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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

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Lila Rossi: I’d Say She’s a Good Villain, but Then I’d Be Lying (300 Follower Special)

Deception and cunning are easily two of the most important traits an antagonist could have. It shows that even if they don't have the strength to overcome obstacles, their wit is more than enough. This kind of trait is why characters like Lex Luthor, David Xanatos, and Princess Azula are so beloved, simply because of how intelligent they can be as villains and pose a real threat to the heroes.

It's clear that the Miraculous Ladybug writers want Lila to be seen as this, but the writing seriously fails to back that claim up.

Easily one of the most controversial characters in Miraculous Ladybug is Lila, mainly for the writing surrounding her. But there was a time where she was actually more of an ambiguous character, mainly for the lack of screentime she had until Season 3. But unfortunately, the more appearances she's had have painted a very poor portrait of an antagonist.

Lila's Tragic and Sympathetic Motivation for Hating Ladybug

Lila's first appearance was at the tail end of Season 1, “Volpina”. She was a new transfer student from Italy, and quickly made friends with a lot of her classmates for the lies she told, including being friends with Ladybug (which Alya blindly believed without doing any research like any excellent journalist). But because of how close she was getting to Adrien, Marinette, in a rare act of selfishness, transforms into Ladybug just to chew out Lila for lying about knowing her, humiliating her in front of Adrien. And this is the only motivation we get for what Lila does afterwards.

I'm not saying that it's wrong for Lila to get upset at Ladybug for doing this, and I like the moment of weakness Marinette has, but this is literally the only explanation we get for Lila deciding to side with Hawkmoth, a literal terrorist. As much as I hated the way the arc turned out, I could still understand Chloe siding with Hawkmoth, as it was clear that Hawkmoth was manipulating her and taking advantage of her ego. Lila? Ladybug's mean to her one time, and that inspires her to conspire with a complete stranger who brainwashes people to attack the city, which endangers innocent people and causes God knows how much in collateral damage if not for Miraculous Ladybug fixing everything.

I just don't get how a single negative interaction with someone is enough to conspire with a literal supervillain. Even in Season 3, when Marinette and Lila truly became enemies, it was because she risked exposing all the lies she told, which could damage her reputation. Sure, it's petty, but it makes sense for Lila to want to keep up the illusion. If she was simply an antagonist to Marinette in her civilian life like Chloe was before “Miracle Queen” , I'd be fine with that, but the writers clearly want her to be seen as on the same level of evil as Hawkmoth. I'll get into why that doesn't work later on.

Why Lila is an Excellent Liar

In my Master Fu analysis, I had pointed out that despite all the flaws he had, the narrative insisted on portraying him as an incredibly wise mentor. The same problem applies for Lila as well. We're supposed to see Lila as an expert manipulator and liar, but her lies are insultingly obvious. She always claims to be friends with celebrities and does all these awesome things, and in an age where we can have almost any question answered thanks to the internet, nobody ever stops to question her.

It's even more frustrating when you hear Lila talk about saving Jagged Stone's cat, when Jagged Stone is established to be very fond of Marinette (evidentially more than his own daughter), and nobody ever points that out. I think if Lila's lies were more stories about her travels around the world than outright lies about real people, it could have worked. It'd still be hard to believe, but it's something.

But this is a problem with writing shows aimed at children. As much as we hate writers who need to spell out things to kids, sometimes, they just don't understand some of the media they consume. Seriously, I never got this joke in SpongeBob as a kid, and I can't believe Nickelodeon actually approved this.

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So the dilemma when writing a show with children in mind is finding that sweet spot between assuming your audience can figure it out, but not being too vague in your details. It's even harder when you need to find a way to convey the fact that someone is lying without being too obvious. Unfortunately, the show clearly fails to do that

Okay, this is going to sound like an incredibly weird thing to cite, and I only know about it because I used to know someone who was a huge fan of the franchise, but the movie Monster High: Friday Night Frights does a better job of subtly explaining to the audience that a character is lying. Please, just hear me out.

The movie follows the main characters competing in their high school's roller derby for the season after everyone on the usual team gets injured, and the championship match is against another school whose team tends to cheat to win matches. How they manage to do this without getting caught is anyone's guess. While the main characters are practicing, their coach, Clawd, notices a spy for the enemy team taking video of them to study their moves. In response, he calls over one of the athletes, Operetta, to chew her out for her showboating attitude. In reality, he's alerting her to the spy. Only using facial expressions, he clues her, and by extension, the audience, in on the fact that they know what the opposing team is trying to do.

This soon leads to Operetta pretending to tell the enemy team about their secret plan for the championship match, which was really an attempt to outsmart them to gain the advantage in the final stretch. The brilliance of this is how the audience is informed of this with no dialogue, and there's no scene afterwards spelling it out for those who don't get it. It manages to convey deception without being too obvious that Clawd and Operetta are being deceitful.

I think if there were more subtle hints to show the audience Lila was lying, she would be seen in a better light. As it is, Lila's lies are just pathetic, and it's ridiculous that everyone believes her. Which leads me to...

Lila, the Master Manipulator

I once read a Star Trek: Voyager fanfic that poked fun at the series by claiming that the reason a lot of the dumber episodes like “Threshold” and “Twisted” happened was because one of the crew members was an alien who unintentionally produced mood altering pheromones, with Captain Janeway actually realizing they were all high because of said pheromones, while two of the unaffected crew members were wondering what the hell they were doing before they found out the cause. Why do I bring this up? Sometimes, it feels like Lila is an unintentional parallel to the alien in that story.

Like so many characters, it's clear the show desperately wants the audience to view Lila in a certain way, but her actions do very little to actually back up that claim. When she's not using lies to tell stories about so many famous people she knows like her uncle who works for Nintendo, Lila is using strategies to manipulate everyone that are so obviously deceptive, the Thermians could pick up on them. Everyone and their mother knows how ridiculous a lot of what Lila does in episodes like “Chameleon” and “Ladybug” are, and I've talked about them before, so I'll try to be quick.

First off, as someone who had access to accommodations through high school and has had assistance in college so far, there is no way in hell that Ms. Bustier should take Lila's tinnitus at face value in “Chameleon”. If a student has a disability that could interfere with the education process, physical or developmental, not only does the school have to evaluate their performance, and determine if they're eligible for an Individualized Education Program, or IEP, but her teachers would have to be notified in the first place. As her primary educator, Ms. Bustier would be part of the team to oversee Lila's IEP and determine what accommodations she needs to help her learn better with her tinnitus and arthritis. But because the writers don't know what Google is, they just ignore it, assume that Lila can just say she has a disability, and have everyone believe it. Even when Eric Cartman pretended to be disabled to compete in the Special Olympics, he put in more effort to look the part, even if he looked like a caricature.

Then there's the fact that that in “Chameleon”, everyone just believes Lila when she says Marinette stole her grandmother's necklace when not only is said necklace from the Agreste line of jewelry, but Alya, who is Rena Rouge, can't pick up on the fact that it's a fake. All she does to justify these lies is come up with a sob story about how nobody believes her, yet nobody ever tries to defend Marinette except Alya one time, and it was after she got expelled.

Or what about in “Oni-Chan”, where Lila thinks having Kagami kill Ladybug while claiming she'll back away from Adrien is a good idea? Let's say Oni-Chan does kill Ladybug or at least take away her Miraculous, what then? We know Lila wouldn't go through with this promise, and as soon as Kagami sees her harassing Adrien, she'll be ripe for akumatization again. Overall, not a great plan.

And yet somehow, this last example is what made her worthy enough to become one of Hawkmoth's most trusted agents. I'm just going to say it: Lila is not a good fit for the power of illusion. Whenever she's Volpina or Chameleon, she always goes out of her way to make a big show instead of being subtle with her deceptions. “Chameleon” is the worst offender, as even though Lila gets the power to shapeshift into someone else, instead of being discreet and cornering people into kissing them and gaining their appearance, she just runs around to get Ladybug's attention instead of being subtle. Even Felix had the bright idea to pretend to be Adrien to catch Ladybug off guard. How do you lose to something that happened in “Felix”?

Despite all of these screw-ups, we're still supposed to see her as this master of deception worthy of allying with Hawkmoth in both his supervillain and civilian form, when really, she's a terrible liar on the schoolyard and on the battlefield.

Why Lila is an Important Character

In the grand scheme of things, Lila just isn't as important of a character that the show loves to parade her around as. She's nothing more than a plot device used to raise the stakes in an episode, given how much reality seems to bend over just to accommodate for her lies. Even when the show alludes to her being part of bigger things, like her deal with Adrien, or her rivalry with Marinette, they don't even go anywhere.

She just feels pointless when you remember Astruc's brilliant idea to force Chloe into being the final Akuma for the season while Lila isn't even mentioned once. She only really makes appearances whenever the writers feel like it, which is why it’s hard to take her seriously. Why should I take this character seriously as a threat if the writers refuse to take her seriously as a threat? Why build Lila up as a big threat and not give her a major role in the finale? Why even include her in the show in the first place when you could show Chloe being more manipulative to fill in the plots Lila plays a big part in?

As of the time I am writing this analysis, four episodes of Season 4 have aired, three of them have been about lies or deception, and Lila hasn't been mentioned at all. It honestly seems like she won't appear unless the writers need a easy way to drive up the conflict, so they can justify it by saying that Lila's “superpower” of lying is more powerful than the common sense of everyone else.

I'm sorry this post was shorter than the last one, but compared to Master Fu, there's not that much to say about Lila that I haven't already said. Even the show barely gives her any attention, so it's hard for me to really find a lot to talk about.

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sweeethinny · 3 years

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Hi, Sweet! Ooh, thank you so much for sending me a prompt, I'm working on it! If you could please write "Just close your eyes. I will still be here when you open them again" for any ship, my only request is that it's in some kind of AU. I love your AUs!

Sorry for the delay Mah, hope you like this Jily Muggle AU <3

Ps: for those who don't know, Valentine's Day is celebrated on the 12th of June in Brazil, and in June we have what we call the 'June Party', where it's time to exalt Brazilian folklore, and - for those who are Catholics - is the month of June Saints, the saints who baptized Jesus.

This month, there are parties where people go dressed as hillbillies, there is a lot of food, depending on the party, drinks, a lot of dancing, and it is for many the best time of year.

Couples tend to go matching, always wearing plaid clothes, with lace, ruffles and patches, and usually women braid their hair, paint their cheeks pink and men - for those who don't - paint a fake beard on their faces. They also wear a straw hat, and everything is very colorful.

A typical outfit for you, you understand more or less how it is <3 - HERE and HERE

I hope you all like it, I always like to insert a little of my culture in the fanfics <3

read bellow the cut <3

"Just close your eyes. I will still be here when you open them again" He said, kneeling in front of her.

"Unfortunately," she said, but there was a smile on her face, a smile that James thought was adorable, and it matched her sun-rosy cheeks and the flaming strands of hair that fell over her face.

“I'll pretend to believe you.” He smiled, grimacing when she threw up again, what now felt like just water. "I'll never let you drink again."

"I never want to drink again," Lily laid her head on the toilet seat, her eyes almost closed and stared at James as if she was unable to focus her vision but was trying. The noise from the backyard party was still loud, but inside, the two of them on the bathroom floor, the silence was comforting.

"Famous last words." He shrugged, wanting to laugh but feeling sorry for her, who looked like she wanted to throw up some more. "Evans, you better pull yourself together, or I'll have to take you to the hospital, and I think it's the last place you want to go." James raised his eyebrows, wanting her to remember exactly where they were.

The idea at first was good; a weekend among friends at James' grandparents' farm, abusing every last drop of trust his parents had in him and Sirius. They promised they'd take care of the house, and it was going to be quiet, but now, when he looks out the window and sees Remus jumping off the roof into the pool, and Peter upside down trying to drink beer, he thinks things have lost a bit the control.

As long as nobody ended up in the hospital and nothing was broken, everything was perfect.

The nearest hospital was over two hours away, and none of them had the ability to drive for so long on a dirt road that it took a lot of concentration not to end up with a mired or overturned car.

"I'll be fine." She settled on the floor, leaning her back against the cool wall behind her and closing her eyes. It took James a lot of concentration to keep his eyes off her perfectly sculpted breasts, gorgeous in that black bikini. Her tanned skin made it difficult.

"Can you get up?" James asked, no longer able to stand being in such a small space with Lily so close to him, even though she had been vomiting less than a minute ago. She nodded and accepted his hand when he reached out.

James helped her wash her face and the back of her neck, trying not to think too much about how hot her skin was and how the scent of sunscreen and Lily blended together perfectly.

"Are you better, Evans?" Sirius appeared just as they walked out of the bathroom, cheeks rosy from the sun and alcohol, hair pulled back in a bun and bathing trunks falling over his hips. He had a smirk on his face, which James thought was the drinking's fault, but when Hestia walked out of the room Sirius had just left, her hair messier than before and her bikini smoothing, James understood what was happened. ‘Or do we need to call for help for you?'

"I'm great, Black." Lily tossed her hair back, as if she wanted to prove her point to him. “Dressing problems, Hess?” The girl was almost to the back door, ready to go unnoticed, but she stopped as soon as she heard her name.

Her cheeks caught fire, but her smile didn't waver.

"Yes, the knot was too tight." Hestia shrugged, pointing to the knot in her tanned back. "Sirius was helping me." James chuckled, noticing when Sirius nodded, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"I'm sure he helped." Lily looked at Sirius, then at Hestia, finally walking towards the door, her ass looking like the hottest thing in the world.

"Careful not to drool, Prongs." Sirius slapped the back of his head, looking like he wanted to wake him up from the perverted dream he was having, his drunken brain imagining everything he could do if Lily stopped looking at him just as a friend.

“You're imagining things, you idiot.” He defended himself, following the three of them outside.

The day was sunny, and even with a little wind, there was a mass of hot air that made them sweaty even when they were standing still. Everyone was sporting a tan/redness from their carelessness, and tomorrow probably wouldn't be so kind to them, but James knew that no one here was caring about tomorrow and the possible side effects of spending too much time in the sun.

It was Sirius who had come up with the idea, after looking tired of hearing complaints from Peter and Hestia about how hot it was and how they wanted to go swimming somewhere. James had blamed him for just organizing this because it was a reason for him to see Hestia in bikinis, because this wasn't the first summer Peter had complained about the heat, but it was the first that the girls had joined their group.

They had met in college, Lily was in the lab with Peter, and Marlene was in the same class as James, and when Remus asked Hestia to have lunch with them, somehow they had all become friends.

It was a unlikely group, James admitted that, but having Marlene, Lily and Hestia around always seemed to make their group much more alive and complete somehow, even though James had never thought they needed more members.

As he sat down on the lounge chair next to Lily, James wondered what she would do if he tried to flirt with her; would she repay or would she push him away and their group would break up? He'd seen how a little shocked she looked when he'd taken off his shirt, but maybe it was the tattoos that had caused it to her.

"I always thought you were too much of a mama's boy for that," she'd said, pointing to his chest, where a constellation was drawn.

Maybe that was just the shock, but James liked to think there was something else, and before she wanted to throw up her guts, he was thinking that Lily was returning the flirting start they were having, sitting by the pool while James gave her his seductive smile.

"Feeling better?" James looked over at her, lying on the lounger with her sunglasses on and her belly white with sunscreen.

"Yes now." Lily sighed. "Sorry I made you see me in that situation."

"Nothing." James shrugged. "I've gotten a lot worse, don't worry…" He took a deep breath, gathering his chest boldly and thanking that his mind was a little clouded by the beer. "Lily, are you going with anyone to Liz's party?"

Liz was a girl who studied with James, they were classmates in the Philosophy class, she was a Brazilian exchange student, and had said that she would have a party to celebrate Valentine's Day on the same date that was celebrated in Brazil, and that it was a party with the themed 'june party', which implied that they dressed in checkered clothes, or round and lace-filled dresses. She had also said that they should go as couples, but for singles, there would be something like a kissing chain or something, James hadn't quite understood.

From the photos she had shown, it looked interesting, and any opportunity to ask Lily out, James was taking it.

"I hadn't thought to go, until now." She turned her head toward him, and James cursed her sunglasses, preventing him from seeing those beautiful green eyes. ‘Are you asking me on a date?

"Could be if you want," He smiled, hoping it was seductive enough.

"Are you asking me on a date after you saw me throw up?" This time Lily lifted her glasses, and her green eyes glared at him, her eyebrow raised and an adorable little smile on her lips.

"I said I've been worse." James bit his cheek, a little anxiously. 'Then? Do you want to be my partner? I can wear a dress if you like, I look really cute in lace.” He winked, just to make her laugh—and she did.

"I want," Lily put her glasses back on, and lay back down. 'Just because I want to see you wearing lace and ruffles… I promise to be a good gentleman and court you.' It was he who laughed now, thinking it was alcohol that made him feel silly like that, laughing at anything she said and with all those butterflies in the stomach.

"Fine, can't wait." He grinned from ear to ear, he would probably have his face torn open if he continued like this, but he was too happy to care.

He was going on a date with Lily Evans.

#jily au #muggle au #james x lily #marauders #prongs #james potter #lily evans #jily

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yellowmagicalgirl · 3 years

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Hey, how do you and other Krexie shippers work around the age gap? I mean, I ship Krexie and have my own headcanons, but I'm curious to see what others have done.

I feel like I answered this before several months ago, but I don’t feel like finding that post so I’ll answer again. The full answer to your question is a short essay (and that’s without including the footnotes) so I’m gonna put it under a cut. This is based upon my own experience in the fandom, and the krexie circles I frequent are the ones on FFN, AO3, and of course, here on tumblr. Abuse and grooming (in the context of real people) will be talked about below the cut.

TL;DR I’ve seen three main ways of dealing with the age gap: ignoring it, aging Krel up, and aging Douxie down.

Ignore It

This one actually encompasses two different methods. The first of the two is to treat one or both of the boys’ ages as nebulous, with the maturity level of “teenager” and nothing more explicit since Douxie is about nine centuries old and Akiridion royals live for centuries Krel’s exact age is unknown. In this case, the age of one or both of the boys won’t be mentioned aside from being hundereds of years old. In addition, at least on Douxie’s end, this is somewhat canon. Fun fact: Douxie never calls himself a college student, and neither does Archie. Likewise, neither of them call Douxie 19. That was Steve, who deserved far better of a character arc than just to be the idiot that he is in Wizards. However, even though he deserved better Steve is not a reliable source of information on Douxie’s age, but Douxie and Archie are. In Wizards, the only information Douxie and Archie give on Douxie’s age is that he’s about nine centuries old.[1]

The other method of ignoring the ages is to treat Douxie as a 19-year-old (ignoring the immortality) and Krel as a 16-year-old, and to mention one or both of their ages. Their ages are ignored due to one or both of the following reasons: for one, in real life a three year gap between teenagers doesn’t automatically mean the older person is a predator. It’s something to be cautious about, and the younger person really needs to have people they can trust since if the relationship does turn toxic they would have less power and thus be in more danger (usually, though it is possible for the younger person to be more dangerous to the older one), but that doesn’t automatically mean something bad will happen. The other reason to ignore the boys’ ages is because honestly? If someone needs non-canon ships to tell them which relationships are healthy and which ones are dangerous, then their parents/guardians and teachers have failed them. Fanfic authors, fanartists, and other people creating/consuming fanworks on the internet are not responsible for educating random people on the internet. In fact, they and their content are not responsible for if a random person is abused, even if the abuser uses fanworks to groom the victim. It’s the fault of the abuser for being abusive.[2]

Out of these two methods, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more using the former method of ignoring than the age gap than the latter.

Age Krel Up

This, again, has two different methods. The more common method is to have Krel (and the other Arcadia Oaks High students) age naturally, until they’re at an age that the fanwork creator is more comfortable with having krexie at. These types of fanworks take place years after the events of Wizards. The other method is to create an au where Krel (and likely the other Arcadia Oaks High students) were already the age the fanwork creator is more comfortable with when Douxie and Krel first met. I, personally, have created a lot of content for the first method, and I’ve seen other people use this method as well. My fake marriage au utilizes the latter method, and this method would also work for au’s where Douxie and Krel are both adults when they meet but the au does not follow canon.

Age Douxie Down

This one also has a basis in canon, though I haven’t seen any other krexie shipper use this method of dealing with the age gap. I, personally, use this whenever I want to make krexie content that’s compliant with Trollhunters and 3Below but also do not want to deal wit backwards time travel because I hate backwards time travel. However, someone should write an au where Douxie and Krel are human high schoolers whose biggest problem is being gay for the guy attending your rival school.

Now, while Douxie and Archie gave Douxie the vague age of about 900 years old and Steve made the assumption that Douxie was a 19-year-old college student, Trollhunters actually went out of its way to show that Douxie was a high school student.

In season two episode 10, Mary reveals that she was dating a student from Arcadia Oaks Academy, and Eli remarked that that was their rival school. I was in high school when Trollhunters was airing, and let me tell you: high schools do not have rivalries with colleges. Arcadia Oaks Academy would have to be a high school, or maybe a k-12 or 6-12. However, it’s far more likely that Arcadia Oaks Academy is a high school with the same age range of students as Arcadia Oaks High. In season three episode 1, Mary excitedly tells Claire that a student from Arcadia Oaks Academy is at Arcadia Oaks High. This student is Douxie, and unless I’m remembering wrong he also mentions attending the Academy. Unless Mary knew all along that Douxie was a wizard and was trying to give him a cover story for why he was hanging out at Arcadia Oaks High only for this information about Mary to be cut from Wizards due to time constraints, there is absolutely no reason for Mary to lie about Douxie’s age to Claire. The fact that Douxie was considered to be a high schooler by most of the fandom (some people had been on the train of “he’s a centuries old adult” for a long time) is why the krexie fanworks created pre-Wizards are all treating Douxie like a high schooler. (Yes, people shipped krexie (or at least consumed/produced fanworks for the ship) before Wizards came out. I have my fic on AO3/FFN and other people’s comments to prove it, as well as some fanart saved to my blog. Sadly, some of the people are now antis, and one them has now harassed at least one krexie shipper.)

Personally, when I age Douxie down, I age him down to 17. Only 17. Not 17-plus-several-centuries-without-aging. In-universe he may try to call himself 1492 years old, but he’s really just 17. However, as I mentioned before, if I’m aging him down to 17 then I’m also completely ignoring the backwards time travel aspects of Wizards. And, by doing that, I end up really changing the lore of Wizards. If you would like more information for the timeline I use when I age Douxie down, please refer to this ask.

In Conclusion

Thank you for reading this. These footnotes aren’t nearly as on topic and are more of a ramble.

[1] Re: Douxie having a really vague age of nine centuries. If you take enough chemistry and physics (but in my experience especially chemistry) courses, you will have it drilled into your head that 900 years old could really be anywhere from 850 to 949 years old. So, while 919 is definitely possible in the age range given by the age of “about 900″, it’s really a give-or-take number. However, if we truly want to be accurate, then if we choose to have Trollhunters take place in the 2016-2017 school year, choose to have had the moppet been between 16 and 19 years old at the Battle of Killahead Bridge, and we consider that the late 12th century (aka the time period of Wizards... supposedly, considering that it is not historically accurate) to be the latter half of that century, then Douxie would have to be somewhere between 834 and 886 years old. If we want a 16-year-old moppet and for the 900 years to be an accurate case of rounding, then the Battle of Killahead Bridge would have needed to be in 1183 at the earliest, which is accurate for the description of late twelfth century. If Douxie were to really be 919 in 2017, then the Battle of Killahead Bridge would have needed to take place somewhere from 1114 to 1117, aka the early twelfth century.

[2] Re: the argument that fanwork creators are not responsible for if an abuser uses their content to groom a victim. When I was a kid, the big scare was that strangers would lure off innocent children with candy. We were told not to go anywhere with a stranger, even if they had candy (or puppies, kittens, etc.) I don’t know how many kids have been hurt by strangers promising candy, nor do I know if this is something kids are still being warned about, but I do know that there isn’t some campaign against candy companies for daring to sell candy that an abuser would use against kids. This is because, as horrible as children being hurt is, it’s not the fault of the candy companies. It’s the fault of the abuser. And likewise, it’s not the fault of a fanwork creator if someone else uses their content to harm others.

PS: A side note since we’re discussing ages. I’ve been in this fandom for years, specifically on tumblr, AO3, and FFN as well as one of the discords. It wasn’t until the krexie discourse started that I started seeing people start calling Krel 14. I had seen people call him 15-16 in the past, because the fandom wasn’t sure if he and Aja were twins or had a minimum of a 9-month gap (assuming, of course, that Akiridions reproduce like humans do). That being said, before the discourse I never saw anyone treat Krel (or Aja, for that matter) like he had a canonical age. 14, however, seems to be something that stemmed from the wiki. You know, the same fan-run wiki that claims that Nomura’s full name is Zelda Nomura even though nowhere in the shows, books, games, or graphic novels is she ever called by that name. Yeah, the Arcadia Oaks-Pedia is not a reputable source. I’m going to give the wiki editors the benefit of Hanlon’s razor and hope that they were just going “well, since Krel is Aja’s younger brother and we’re assuming she’s 15-16 years old like the rest of the protagonists he must be 14-15 years old” and it was only after that that antis took the idea of Krel being 14 as canon and then ran off with it to be cruel and cause chaos.

#answered ask #anonymous #krexie #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #3below #toawizards #krel tarron #hisirdoux casperan #fandom discourse #child abuse #abuse tw #grooming #if i wake up to people being dicks about this i will be so mad

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syalmazhafira17 · 3 years

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Ever Since New York

A/N: Hello! This is my first HS fanfiction for the Playlist Fic Challenge hosted by @harrystylescherry. I didn’t specified any Harry era, you could imagine any Harry era you want to! I think this is also a reader insert fanfic, but well, hopefully it does. The pronoun I use here is she/her. I know this is not the real meaning of the song, but the actual meaning of the song triggered me myself, I didn't like to write about it, I'm sorry. If there’s any mistakes, please let me know because English wasn’t my first language. And if you’d like to give me reviews or talk to me, you could absolutely do it! Happy reading! XOXO, Syalma

Word Count: 5.1k

TW: car accident

“I’ve been praying ever since New York” – Ever Since New York

Things started in a place. And for Harry, it was New York.

New York City might not be the most romantic city in general public, but for the Harry Edward Styles, the city is a gift for him. The sweetest memory started here, in the city. When every now and then the city was always busy, but he found comfort in the middle of it. Something he previously never thought to find about in this city.

///

He was just shuffling through the crowd in Times Square. It was at night in the busy hour. He was wrapped in a thick jacket and sunglasses, and everything was so packed, even people, and anyone barely notices him. Which he was thankful about, because it was already a tiring day for him in the studio. It’s already late in his opinion and all he wants is jump on his bed right away. Or maybe a cuddle, even, only if he has someone to cuddle.

The thought stuck in his head, and that night, God given him what he wishes quietly. He bumped into a girl in the Metro. The girl turned around, rising her eyebrow in confusion. When she saw him, she started to freak out. Her head already in a negative view. She step aside a little, giving a space between him and her. He wanted to mumble an apology, before realizing the girl already stepping away from him.

She looks like she’s a college student, he thought. And before he knew it, she snapped her eyes at him alarmingly. He knew she can’t see his eyes staring at her like a lost puppy found its owner, but it surely already makes way to her instinct.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and turned away, locking his eyes at the ceiling of the Metro track.

He didn’t know, that ever since that day, she will be stuck in his daydreams, and out of the blue, making way to his songs and writings.

Ever since the metro, she’s all he thinks about.

///

Their faith tied together again. It’s lunch time and they both met again in the restaurant.

She was looking around the place to find one single unoccupied chair. Her eyes fell on two, one in front of a smoking men and one in front of the curly-headed men. She hates the smoke, and for the sake of it, she makes her way through the table.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to disturb your lunch, may I sit here by any chance?” she asked. The men turned around. He looks right back at her, with bright green eyes and hazelnut curls on top of his head. A moment of silence as Harry regains back his memory of the Metro girl he bumped into.

“I’m so sorry, if you didn’t want to. I’ll find another seat,” she brought her tray away, walking to the opposite direction from the table.

“Hey, um, I didn’t mean to. You can- you can seat here,” he nodded, chewing his lips. He has been thinking about her for some times, once he already got the girl, he messed it up by just looking at her.

“Oh— thank you so much!” she smiled brightly as she turns back to the table and set down her food tray.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, before he speaks up after a war with his gut.

But she did it first.

“I’m sorry, but you look familiar, have I met you before?” she asked.

His mind glued at her until he forget to answer it until she cleared her throat in a code to snap him back to reality.

“Eh, sorry, sorry. Yeah, we’ve met before. In the Metro, the men bumping at you at busy hour,” he scratches the back of his neck, like he always do when he was nervous.

“New York is really a city of possibility. Who knows I bumped into Harry Styles on a Metro?” she laughed. Harry’s smile makes its way back to his face. There’s something about this girl he was very fond of.

“You know…me?” he asked in disbelief.

“Of course I do. Like everyone else. I’ve been a fan,” she nodded.

“You didn’t, don’t get me wrong, look like one,” he stared at her. He wanted to hear her way of saying ‘I do’ in front of their families and kissed in front of everyone. With him.

“Well, I am. Not all fangirl looks like they are a fan, aren’t we? But yeah, I’m a fan. Dying to get a quick snap of you, but I figured you will quickly find my phone’s camera lens as soon as I snap it, considering your sixth sense of it and me sitting only separated by a table, so that might not be a good idea. And yeah, maybe I look calm outside, don’t be tricked by it. I freaked out inside,” she laughed. There’s something about the way she talks that makes him mesmerized by it. He gulped down.

“Do you want a snap?” he offers. Her eyes look back at him in shock. She slowly nodded. She offers her phone, but he already pulled out his.

He snap their picture quickly before he sends it.

“Do you have an Apple product phone? So, it will airdrop?” he asked.

“Eh, no, I have an Android, but I have my iPad with me. Give me a sec,” she pulled out a device from her backpack. She turned it on and Harry sends the picture to it. He glances at the name of her device. y/n’s iPad. y/n. A name he will remembers.

Looking at him glancing at the name of her iPad, she suddenly realized.

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m y/n,” she offered her hand.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Harry,” he giggled.

“Hi Harry,” she said, in a soft tone, that makes him wanted to listen to it for the rest of his life. They both laughed and continued their food.

Ever since the restaurant, he wonders if their faith will collide once again.

///

“Hello, um, no, that’s…probably not a good tone, you have to use the perfect charming tone. Not too low, not too high, not too fast, not too slow. Hey. That’s too informal,” he chippers in front of his bathroom’s mirror.

He didn’t know how much luck he could get right now. He got her phone number, for some weird connection only God knows exist. She was one of his mates’ old friend. Her contact was buried beneath his’ phone for ages and he managed to pull that out of his contact and have the courage to save the number in his phone and gave the girl he met by coincidence a call in one fine Saturday night. And managed to croak out a question in the middle of his nervous state on that simple call.

And fast forward a week, here he is standing in front of the mirror, practicing his line over and over while his nervousness ripping him off little by little. He doesn’t know how he have this whole luck of her.

His phone suddenly rang, snapping him out of his thought and sprinting to his phone as quick as possible. He pulls up the green button after glancing at the caller’s ID.

“Hey, Harry,” she greeted. Her voice ran down his spine and gave him a comfort he never felt before with anyone else.

“Hello,” he said. A dead silence for a moment before she continued speaking.

“Um, I don’t know if I disturb you, I’m so sorry if I do, but I’ve been waiting for about 45 minutes, and I wonder if you will go on the date or cancel it? Because if you want to cancel it, then it’s okay. I’m just checking.”

Harry looking up at the clock on the wall. The clock showed him the time that felt like a slap at his face. And her soft voice asking him in concern make him regret his own feeling. He was supposed to be where she is now an hour ago, he planned on coming earlier than her to make a good impression, but now he’s late, like really late. There will be no way she’s going to forgive him nor agree to go on the second date with him.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I– I just lost track of time, I’ll be there in a sec,” he stuttered. He push his phone to his pocket, ran to his keys, and flung himself to his Range Rover and hit the road as fast as the law allowed him to sped up.

He arrived in the span of 15 minutes from her phone call, panting and sweating, as well as nervous and panicking, scared to look at her face once she pulled up to the passenger’s side of his car. She raised an eyebrow before touching his bicep softly to distract him from his thoughts.

“Harry?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

“Uh- yeah, I’m okay,” he nodded quickly.

“You look pale and sweating,” she examined his face.

“I’m great, that’s just…my natural features,” he tumbled over his words. “Shall we go?”

“It’s okay if you’re not feeling good, I could just go home,” she looks at him with a concerned face.

There will be no way he will let her let out of his grasp. He was already in the edge of not getting her by forgetting the time, he won’t let her go home alone this time.

“I’m perfectly fine, we’ll go to one of my favorite restaurant,” he stated, the thought simply giving him a new pump of confidence.

“Oh, alright, we’ll go then,” she relaxed to the seat and buckled herself. He drives through the night glow of New York with Brooklyn Bridge and Miss. Liberty watching him. Watching quietly as Harry Styles trying his best to get the girl he dreamed of by picking up the rest of the pieces left about him in her that he already broke. And this city being the quiet paparazzi recording every step of him got the love of his life.

Ever since the date, he knew he will do anything to be with her.

///

He shifted in his sleep, making himself a little more comfortable, while scooting further to her arms. She wrapped her arms around his wide form graciously, mumbling something before inhaling his scent to soothe herself to go back to sleep.

They tangled together in her bed, sheets crumpling beneath their bodies. They didn’t need it anymore; each other’s warm presence was more than enough to keep them safe and sound in the summer night.

They have been official for a couple months now, 7 months to be precise, after him, being a nervous wreck having the courage to ask her to be his and his only. He was nervous, sweat covering his palm, and his voice trembling as he asks her. He doesn’t know how he did it, but he did end up driving home with her hand in his and a thin layer of her lipstick left on his lips. And when he got back to his own place, he screamed from the balcony to the busy road beneath, doesn’t even spare a glance at pedestrians looking up at him weirdly, or the fans started to clicking their cameras up secretly, or paparazzi recording him. In his mind, the world was just him and her.

His eyes flicker open, looking up to her, who sleeps peacefully. He stays there and just watching her breathing rhythm. He loves it when she got into peace like this, with no crease between her brows or an upset face painted on her beautiful face.

“Are you going to creepy stare at me forever or tell me what time it is?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“Both, it’s around 1 in the morning darling,” he said sweetly, kissing her shoulder.

“Great! Now tell me everything you wanted to ramble on,” she said jokingly.

He knows she was joking, but he did anyways. He spoke up.

“I want babies, to cuddle! To squish their little chubby cheeks. How cute would that be? They will have green eyes and curly hair like I do, and they’ll have tiny smile that looks like yours! And we’ll squish their tiny faces and kiss them and we’ll spoil them with so much love and—and—and—Gucci!” he giggled after the word came out. Of course, Harry’s staple, Gucci, will be on the list of his babies.

“And we’ll put them in bear onesies I saw on Pinterest the other day! And we’ll paint the walls soft yellow, and we’ll get to cuddle them in our arms at night, and they will squirm in our arms, and when they wake up hungry in the middle of the night, I’ll come to them so you’ll sleep. And I can stop my work while they were little, could almost be packed in the suitcase I brought on tour! And when they got old enough, we’ll go around the world and they’ll meet a lot of people, will see the world in real life. And then…they’ll grow up,” he ended his ramble about babies in a sad face, realizing babies could grow up too, and they will not be so little anymore.

“And then, you’ll make more,” she ended the whole story for him.

“You? Why not— oh yeah, I’m sorry,” he looked down like a sad kitten. “We never talk about this before.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. We’ll be a little family, with babies like you want, yeah? Their little faces and cheeks, want to squish and kiss them already,” she fixed her words. He looked up at her again excitedly.

“And we’ll have kittens! Cute little fur balls in the couch!” he continued on.

He continues to talk about kittens. How cute they were, how many will they have, and how he will fed them.

“I love cats lots, but not as much as I love—” his eyes widen after he realized what he just said.

“I love…?” she didn’t have a single clue what he was about to say. And he was thankful for it. “Babies?” she guesses.

“No,” he shook his head.

“So…what?” she furrowed her eyebrows. “Working in the bakery?”

“You, I love you,” he finally decided to risk it all and said the three words that have been stuck in his mouth for the past months.

“I…Harry,” she said sternly.

“Yes?” he looked up at her like a scared kitten.

“Are you sure about those words?”

“With my whole heart, darling.”

“Like sure, sure?”

He nodded quietly.

“I love you, too,” she whispers right to his ears and kissed his pink lips.

His cheek and his nose flushed red. He couldn’t believe that he just did it.

Ever since that night, he knows he wants to spend evermore with her.

///

He was in LA again. Not staying in New York. It’s the fifth time he did it, with no preparation call, but just a quick text once he arrived. Leaving her confused for a moment before processing her boyfriend’s quick news. She was already living in his New York apartment he purchased for both of them, but he was barely there. At bright days, he spent it with his guitars, music, and studios, and at night he conquers the music industry concert. At weekends, he was busy to move around the world, too busy to text his girlfriend about his plan and whereabouts.

Today, she had enough of it. She stormed out of her class with angry fingers pressing the buttons of his number. Those all because he already sent the text ‘In LA babe, don’t wait x’. But who wants to wait for a week before he came back to NY, gave her a proper talk about his plan, and if he remembered about him having a girlfriend, plan on a date afterwards?

First call, doesn’t get answered. Second call, to voicemail after a few ringing. Third call, straight up to voicemail.

She grumbled beneath her breath, cursing, before trying again. On the last ring, he finally picks up.

“Hello, babe, have you gotten my text?” he asked.

“No, you come home tonight, or I’ll leave,” she said sternly. She doesn’t want to look scary by the people she met in the hallway, but her eyes says otherwise. But she didn’t care much. She cares about the fact that her lover just left her with a short text.

“Hey? What’s wrong with you?” his voice turned from bouncy and happy to a stern confused one.

“You’re the one that needed to be asked that way,” she scolded.

“Darling, I’m not going to be in the joke right now, I have some big stuff to do,” he frowned.

“OH, your girlfriend you just left in New York wasn’t a big stuff? Okay, don’t expect me to wait a week alone in that bloody apartment,” she huffed before hanging up as quick as possible, making sure she did it as he speak up explaining his problem.

He cursed underneath his breath when the call line got cut off. Jeff, reading his face, looked over.

“You okay, Harry?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just…y/n acting up,” he mumbled.

Jeff didn’t answer, he just nodded before speaking to someone on the other end of his own phone call. While Harry tried his best to not thinking about his upset (and alone) lover back in New York, he just��failed miserably. At the time the clock strikes midnight, he gave up to his feelings and book a ticket back to New York.

He got into the plane at 3 AM, bouncy and a nervous wreck. He was scared of what might y/n does. Breaking up? Almost a bit dramatic, but doesn’t make it zero possibility. Mad at him? She does now. No need to wonder. Leave the house? She probably plan to right now. Driving at midnight and blasting sad songs in her car? Not Harry’s type, but hey, y/n is y/n. She could be doing that at this very moment. Getting drunk in a dive bar with her college friends? She was barely past drinking age, and she doesn’t like alcohol much, but everyone seeks comfort when they fight with their significant others right? Stress eating on McDonald’s drive thru or eating a tub of ice cream, crying over a random TV Show? It’s nothing bad compared to other possibilities, but he doesn’t want to know it was because of him. Because in each possibility, he imagined her crying and mad at the same time.

And when he dropped his bag at their apartment, the first view he saw wasn’t a crying y/n, an empty house, a drunk version of his girl, or a girl crying with an ice cream tub or McDonald’s packaging. Instead, she curled up into a ball in the sofa, must have been fallen asleep at some point at night, blanket messily covering her figures, and the TV playing a random bad TV Show. He went immediately soft by the sight in front of him, but he quickly remembered about his problem.

He didn’t want to wake her up and as bad as he wanted to curl up in the sofa and scooping her in his chest (because he know she won’t even think twice to push away whoever cuddle her without her knowing) so he went to the bathroom and cleaning up himself a little before moving to kitchen and made some coffee.

She woke up 30 minutes later, squinting at the light before fully aware of other people existence in the apartment. Her hazy mind translates it as a stranger, but once he dropped a pan and cursing, she knew it was Harry.

She pushed her feet against the carpet and walked towards the kitchen.

“Oh sorry, sweetheart, did I wake you?” he asked.

“Care to come home, Styles?” she didn’t even bother to say hi or answer his question.

“Love…I’m sorry,” he plead.

“No, no, that’s okay. I’m pretty fine alone here, with no company, and with my non-existence physically boyfriend,” she said sarcastically. “He was busy being a company to everyone until he forgot to be a company for his own girlfriend.”

“I wasn’t…I’m sorry, can’t you forgive me? I texted you, I let you know where I am,” he argued.

“That’s okay if you don’t,” she said before taking out her cup and filled it with water carelessly. “I’ve had enough of you anyway.”

It hits Harry harder than he thought it intended to be, so he grabbed her wrist and forced her to look at him, even with a disgusted expression.

And that night, they ended up cuddling on the couch and watching The Notebook with a huge tub of Haagen-Dazs in the middle of them. Half finished, with two scoops stuck out.

Ever since that day, he knew and promised he didn’t want to hurt her in anyway.

///

“Are you Mr. Harry…?” someone at the other end of his phone called.

“Who are you? What are you doing with her phone?” he asked aggressively. He felt sick since he woke up this morning, all he wanted was her to cuddle up against his chest.

“I’m Doctor Alex, and I’m from Brooklyn Hospital Center, are you Harry, sir?” he asked once more.

“What happened to her?” his heart sinks. He didn’t even confirm his name.

“I need you to calm down, sir,” the doctor finally gave up, assuming by himself who he was talking to was really the Harry in the girl’s emergency contact.

“What happened to my y/n?” he asked, rushing out of his bed, threw the comforter off his body.

“I’m sorry to inform you this, but you are the emergency contact in this phone. The girl, the owner of this phone, has been in an effective car crash. No relatives or friends with her during the accident,” the doctor explained briefly. “She’s in coma.”

Harry didn’t answer. His heart sinks, his soul felt like just left his body, his stomach dropped, he froze in place, he couldn’t believe the news, he didn’t want to. He wanted to wake up. Maybe this is just a bad dream, and when he woke up he still has her safely tucked in his arm, and smiling at him. And she will kiss his stubble as he stirs from sleeping, and they will stay like that for 15 minutes before the band called him and yelling from the other line about ‘discipline’ and ‘you lovebirds should’ve kept a clock to see the time’.

He hung up his phone as quick as he could and threw himself to his car.

He drove through New York City street in full speed. He doesn’t care about the laws he broke, how many tickets he will get once a police officer caught him. His mind got clouded by the doctor’s words. This time, Brooklyn Bridge and Lady Liberty watch him, not aiming for a girl’s love, but to aim a hope she will be his forever, not with a tie of marriage, but…he doesn’t even want to think about it anymore.

He parked his car messily and sprint to the front table.

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles. I’m…the girl in the car crash, I want to see her,” his mind can’t even form a perfect sentence.

“Sorry sir, who are you to her?” she asked.

“I’m her…her…boy-husband!” he almost yelled. The nurse knew he wasn’t even her fiancé, but from the panic in his voice, trembling frame, and a mess he is, she finally let him.

When he met her, she was inside a glass room, he wasn’t even get to be in the same room as her. He just watched her breathing heavily with an oxygen tank, the only thing that kept him believing she is alive is the beeping loud noise of machines stuck on her body. She looks miserable, bruises all over her body, casts on her arm, bandages, she looks so…fragile. He just wanted to scoop her up into a hug and kiss her, tell her she’s going to be okay, they’re going to have babies like they always dreamed of. They will have their first house, they will watch their babies grew up as much as he hated the fact that babies will get older one day, they will be old people in their 70s, but she will be the most beautiful girl he has ever seen in her 20s. But he can’t right now, and he felt helpless.

It has been almost 7 hours since he arrived and he doesn’t even spend a second take his eyes off of his girl. Nothing progresses much, but he knew she has to survive. So they could pursue their dreams together, just like they always talk about. At this point, all he wanted was for her to flicker her eyes open and look at him. And he will do the rest, he will pick her up whenever she wanted, he will kiss her, he will give her all the affection he has, he will give her all the love he has even until his heart bleed, he will hold her so tight so she will be always safe no matter the circumstances. He will do anything for her to just open her pretty eyes and look at him.

“If you aren’t going to eat something, you won’t be able to take care of her, um, later,” one of the nurses tap his shoulder. The crack of her end of sentence made Harry gulp down a lump in his throat. She knew her condition better than him. And he knew it, the crack on her word of ‘later’ doesn’t got missed by him. He nodded, the nurse’s words are true, she needed him to be okay.

So he took his time to go to the bathroom and wash his face, looking at the tiredness in his eyes, and he took some time to grab something from the cafeteria, a weird looking bread, looks like have been behind the glass display for ages, but he couldn’t care less. He shoves the bread to his mouth while running to get to her place.

“Sir, are you Harry?” a doctor rushing to his side. Suddenly he felt so empty. The panic in the doctor’s voice, his pale face, Harry doesn’t want to imagine what had happened to his girl.

“You might want to talk to her, she is going to be rolled to the operation room,” the doctor said.

Suddenly Harry felt weak in his knees. The bread feels like its going to threw itself out. He took masks and some weird gown the nurse handed him, and he rushed to her side. The beeping noises louder now he’s inside the room, but the only sound he could hear right now is her troubled heavy small breathing.

“Hi, darling,” he walked towards her with shaky limbs. “They- they said I could talk to you right now, I have weird feelings about it, but you are going to be fine. I- I will propose and we’ll have cute babies like we always talk about. I won’t leave your side again. We- we’ll have our happy ending.”

He kissed her cold fingers. It’s like the world were just the two of them again. No one around her. No weird beeping noise from the computer. No Harry Styles the popstar or y/n y/l/n the college girl. Suddenly they are just Harry and y/n again. Just both of them. In the room. y/n fighting for her life, and Harry, as helpless as he look like, helping her subconsciously.

“y/n, sweetheart, I don’t know if you could hear it, but I’ll be with you. I’ll be here, I’ll be by your side, you don’t have to be afraid, because your Harry will be here, honey. No matter how deep you fall, how hard the challenges, how hurt I will got, I’ll always be there for you. Your Harry will protect you, if it’s cold or hot, if it’s dark or bright, I’ll be by your side, kiss every single tears and cuts it will cause, and you don’t have to be afraid nor alone anymore. Because your Harry will be there for you. Always.”

And then he rolled out of the room. Out of Harry’s grasp, no matter how hard he tried to keep her close. She had gone to the room where her life will be on the thin border.

And Harry, with tired eyes and shaky breath, ran to the empty room outside the glass room and cried. Cried like he never did before. Cried until his tears dried. He dropped to his trembling knees.

“God, I-I know I barely talk to You. But this time…I beg You, please don’t let her taken away from me. I know she will be in no more pain, but I’m too selfish for it, I can’t live without her. I can’t function properly without her. I know I didn’t treat her the best before, but give me a second chance to take care of her. To smell her scent again, to kiss her hairline, brush her hair, give her all I could give, give her all the comfort she needed, give her all my love until my heart bleed. Just…give me one more chance, and I will treat her better,” his shaky voice somehow formed a proper sentence. His cheek wet with stained tears. His breath hitched. His chest felt heavy. He doesn’t even know who he is, when his girl still in the room. “Let me take one more chance to call her mine,” he let out a hitched scream.

After a long waiting and more tears spilled, when the clock told him it was 9 PM, she rolled out of the operating room. He jolted up. Indistinct chatter makes his head felt dizzy. But his main focus was her on the bed.

“Is she okay? What happened?” he could hear his voice yelling those to the medical workers, but he doesn’t even remember saying that.

“Sir, you need to calm down,” a voice called.

“No, no, I don’t need to calm down. I need to know if she’s okay!” he screamed.

“Sir, you have to,” the voice called again.

“Tell me what happened to her, tell me if she’s okay!” he yelled once more.

“Sir, take a deep breath and you’ll get to meet her,” the sentence made him stopped and slowly turned around. His eyes begging for explanation.

“Tell me how she is,” he whispered brokenly.

“She’s…you might want to see her, she might want you to talk to her,” the lady doesn’t even told him how she’s doing. And he knew it. He has only a few percent chance to have her wrapped back in his arms. And only God will gave him it.

The lady (soon he realized she is a nurse), lead him into a room. Not a glass room like she used to be placed, but a more private room, but it doesn’t make him feel any better because she was limp on the bed.

He walked in with shaking legs. The door closed behind him, and his knees gave up. He dropped to the cold floor of the hospital and cried for God knows how many times he had cried. His voice cracked. “Give me one more chance to love her again.”

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles one direction #harry styles x you #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #my writing

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bettsfic · 3 years

Text

how i got an agent, or: my writing timeline

when i started writing, i had no idea how publishing worked and i had a lot of misconceptions about it. but i just signed my first literary agent so i thought i’d share what my experience has been getting to this point, in case it helps anyone else with their own publication goals. i’m also including financial details, like submission fees and income, because “i could never afford to pursue writing as a career” is something that kept me from taking the idea seriously.

for context, i write mostly literary fiction and i’m on the academic/scholarly writing path. this process looks a lot different for other genres.

i didn’t write this in my pretty nonfiction narrative voice; it’s really just the bare-bones facts of how it went down, how long it took, how many words i wrote (both fanfiction and original fiction), and how much it all cost.

background

2002 - 2005: read a fuckton of books, wrote some fiction, wanted to be a writer but knew it would never happen, journaled every moment of my life in intimate detail

2006: started working full-time (at a chinese restaurant) while still in high school, also started taking courses for college credit; no time to write, and forgot i had ever wanted to be a writer

2007: graduated high school, started college (psych major), still worked at the restaurant, moved out of my parents’ house into an apartment with my boyfriend; my dad got diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer

2008: continued college full-time, quit the restaurant and started part-time as a bank teller, broke up with bf and moved in with a friend at an apartment where the rent was obscenely high; had to pick up a second job altering bridal gowns

2009: continued college full-time, started dating someone else, moved in with him, had to support him, took a third job as an admin assistant

2010: continued college full-time, still had 3 jobs; my dad’s cancer became terminal

2011: my dad passed away; i graduated college with a 3.9 and $31k of debt; quit 2 of 3 jobs; got promoted at the bank; my bf cheated on me and we broke up; moved back in with my mom

2012: a very dark time; also, bought a house (because where i’m from, it’s cheaper to buy than rent)

2013: discovered fandom

2014, age 24

this is the year i started writing and posting fanfic. prior to that i was a compulsive journaler but had no drive or desire to become a writer, despite how much i had written when i was a teenager. it seemed like a very childish dream. at this point i assumed writing was just a phase like all my other hobbies i’d picked up and set down.

but fandom proved to be really healthy for me, and i made some good friends who encouraged my writing and made me want to be better at it. i was really not very good at writing. i don’t think i had any natural creative talent whatsoever, or even a particularly vivid imagination. the only thing i had going for me was the ability to put thoughts into words after a decade of obsessive journaling.

i started writing in spring, and by the end of the year my total word count was 311k. i was making a decent income at the bank, insofar as my bills were covered and i had health insurance. i still had a significant amount of credit card debt from college that i was trying to pay down, and which was eating up all my extra income.

2015, age 25

i continued writing through 2015 and went to visit @aeriallon, whom i’d met in fandom and who told me i should consider applying to MFAs. i was miserable at the bank and knew i wanted to go back to school, but i didn’t think there was a chance in hell a grad program would accept me, since my writing wasn’t very good and i hadn’t so much as taken a single english class in undergrad. she told me to just look around and do a few google searches to see what i found.

when i started searching, i assumed i would probably be more compelled toward an MEd or MSW programs and go the therapy route, which is what the plan had been in undergrad before my dad died and my life got derailed. i never wanted to be a banker, but i’d got a promotion into commercial finance that paid decently, so i took it and told myself i’d work for a year before going back to school. but then i kept getting promoted and one year became many.

i ended up being more drawn to creative writing MFA programs because they seemed to want people with weird backgrounds like mine. also the classes sounded fun and the programs were funded. i didn’t know how i would be able to afford my mortgage payment or sell my house on a fraction of the income i was making at the bank, but i figured i’d apply and see what happened.

it took 6 months to get a writing sample ready to apply to MFAs. it was the only ofic story i’d written as an adult, and in retrospect i had no idea what i was doing because at that point i didn’t read literary short fiction. but i got the sample as good as i could get it and completed my applications. i applied to 6 schools and got accepted into 1.

in 2015 i wrote 250k. i can’t find my application spreadsheet from that year, but i probably spent between $300 and $400 on application fees. early in the year, i had finally managed to pay off my credit card debt and save a little bit of money.

2016, age 26

the school i got into was within driving distance of my house, so i didn’t bother moving. i tried to quit the bank but my boss convinced me to stay on 2 days a week working from home. i agreed to it, because my grad stipend wasn’t enough to cover my bills, and i was counting on what little savings i had accrued to get me through the program. i still had no drive or interest to publish. i mostly just wanted to go back to school so i could learn how to be better at this thing i really enjoyed doing.

in the MFA, as you might imagine, i had to read a lot of stuff and write a lot of stuff, and was encouraged to begin submitting some of the short stories i wrote for workshop. i was not particularly into the idea, considering it seemed like a lot of work for little reward, and also i didn’t think my stories were very good.

i also started teaching english comp. i hated it and decided that after the MFA, i never wanted to do it again. haha. hahahahahaha

in 2016 i wrote 343k. i didn’t apply/submit in 2016 so i didn’t pay any fees, but my grad stipend was $14k for the academic year, plus the income i was making at the bank.

2017, age 27

i did a complete 180 and decided i loved teaching more than anything else in the entire world, and i was willing to do whatever it took to become a teacher. i realized that to become a teacher, i needed to publish. begrudgingly i started submitting to literary journals. i also applied to summer workshops and got into tin house, which i highly recommend if that’s something you’re interested in. at tin house i met my dream agent, who seemed really interested in my work and encouraged me to query her as soon as i had a book done.

a lot of personal drama happened that year. i was still working at the bank in addition to teaching a 2/2 and taking a full course load. in summer i had a long overdue mental breakdown.

2017 was a rough year. i wrote 149k. this is the year i started keeping a dedicated expenses spreadsheet. i spent $174 in submission fees. tin house tuition with room and board was a little over $1500 + travel. i thought it was worth it because i met the agent i thought i would later sign, but that didn’t pan out. (i made some great friends though!!) tin house was definitely an unwise financial decision; i paid for it out of what little i managed to save in 2015.

2018, age 28

early in 2018, i went from teaching comp/rhet to creative writing, which only cemented my desire to teach writing as a career. i realized i was far better at teaching writing than writing, but i knew i had to keep writing to keep teaching (shocked pikachu.jpg), so i kept submitting to journals. i got my first story accepted. i didn’t receive any payment for that publication. i quit the bank early in the year (finally! after 10 years!) and was terrified about money, in part because my student loan payments were coming out of deferment and i was still paying off my hospital bills from my breakdown.

in spring semester, i won a few departmental awards (totaling $500ish) and got a second story accepted (again, no payment). i also got accepted to another workshop which i will not name because i hated it. i graduated in may and defended my thesis in july. the thesis would later become my short story collection, zucchini.

in fall, i stayed on at my school as an adjunct, and started writing training wheels which would later become an original novel called baby.

i wrote 450k in 2018. i paid $373 in submission fees. i was also nominated for an award for one of my publications but didn’t win. the workshop i went to was like $4000 with room and board (it was a month-long workshop). i got 75% of it covered with scholarships and i paid for the rest of it out of my savings, and even though i’d intended to drive there, my mom ended up buying me a plane ticket. again, i met a lot of big-wig writers i thought for sure would help me get an agent. i told myself i was networking, and that publication was all about Who You Knew. but that turned out not to be true for me.

as an adjunct i made $3200 per course, and i taught 3 classes in fall. in winter, i got my shit together and started applying for creative writing PhDs, mostly to convince my family i was doing something with my life, with no expectation that i would get in. in winter i applied to 2 schools. with application fees and the GRE, i ended up paying well over $500.

2019, age 29

in spring semester, i taught 2 classes while i revised training wheels into baby. when i had a completed manuscript, i finally pulled the plug and used all my networking contacts to get my dream agent i’d met at tin house. i queried her, and a very popular and well-regarded author i’d met at the other workshop emailed her on my behalf to tell her good things about me. i thought for sure i had it in the bag. this author also touched base with a few other agents whom he thought would like my work.

i didn’t hear back from any of them. not even a “no thanks.” i set down querying for a while.

i got a third story picked up and published around this time, and i was paid $25 for it. they also nominated me for an award, and i don’t think i won? but i can’t find out who did win so idk.

my grandpa passed away and i decided to sell my house and move in with my grandma so she wouldn’t be alone. i got rejected from both PhD programs i applied to and decided to get a “real job” instead, and began applying for random positions that offered health insurance, because i knew i was drastically undermedicated and it was becoming a Problem.

near the end of spring semester, i moved out of my house, put it on the market, and was interviewing for a community development manager position for a nonprofit. at the same time, i found out about another university that was taking late-season applications, and i applied. five days later, i got accepted. one day after that, i got a job offer for the nonprofit. since i had no idea how long it would take for my house to sell, and being unable to afford both rent in a new city and my mortgage payment, i deferred my PhD acceptance for a year and decided to work at the nonprofit for a while. the risk was that i could only defer my admission, not my funding, so there was a chance that the following year i wouldn’t get the same funding package.

i lasted one month at the “real job” before i had another breakdown and ended up quitting.

my house sold for well under the asking price and i received only $4000 in equity once it was all said and done. that’s a lot of money to me, but considering that i’d been paying on the house for 7 years, i was expecting a lot more.

i had a year to kill until the PhD so i decided to take a break from teaching and apply to artist residencies instead. i applied to 8 residencies and got accepted into 4, but only ended up attending 3, because the 4th was outrageously priced and there was no indication of the cost when i had applied.

in winter i picked up querying agents again. i queried 10 agents every other week. i also got a ghostwriting gig writing children’s books that paid $800 a month.

in 2019 i wrote 417k. i spent $441 in submission fees (to residencies and contests, not agent queries. never pay money to query an agent!!). i ended up teaching 3 classes fall semester.

2020, age 30

i started out the year driving across the country going to residencies. the first cost $100 (no food), the second cost $250 (A LOT OF VERY GOOD FOOD), and the third paid me $500. i was at the third when the pandemic hit.

the query rejections started rolling in. i gave up in february after 60 queries. of those 60, i received 7 manuscript requests for baby, but the consensus was that it was too long and plotless (you got me there.jpg). at the second residency completed and revised zucchini and decided to begin querying with that instead. i could only find a few agents who accepted collections so i only queried 16. i got one request for the manuscript but then didn’t hear back. i gave up in april shortly after the pandemic hit.

when i figured the collection, like the novel, just wasn’t publishable, i started submitting to contests which is the more standard route for the genre. i submitted to 12 in total and was a finalist in 1. i was rejected or withdrew from the rest.

the PhD program reached out to ask if i was still interested in starting in fall, and i said i was, so they put me in the running for funding again and i was accepted. the stipend was $17k per academic year.

like most of us, i got totally derailed in spring and stopped doing basically everything. the ghostwriting gig started paying $1500 a month and i also started my creative coaching business, which slowly but surely began to supplement my income. i also received the $1200 stimulus.

when school started, i quit the ghostwriting gig. i had no intention to continue querying either book, but i saw a twitter pitch event called DVpit (diverse voices) and decided to participate. for those who don’t know, a twitter pitch event is where you tweet the pitch for your book and use the hashtag, and agents scroll through the tag and like tweets. if an agent likes your tweet, you query them.

i got one like, so i followed up with the query. the agent asked for the full MS and a couple weeks later followed up with the offer for representation. we talked on the phone, she sent me the contract, i asked for a couple changes, and then signed!

so far this year i’ve written 375k and paid $518 in submission fees. i’ll give more details when i do my end of year roundup next month. oh, and i finally paid off my student loans.

totals

word count: 2.3 million

agent queries: 77

agent MS requests: 9

agent rejections: 28

agent no responses: 44

short story submissions: 86

short story acceptances: 3

short story income: $25

total submission/application fees: $1472

my (final) query letter

honestly this query letter probably isn’t very good which is why i got such a minimal response, but it got the job done eventually.

Thank you for expressing interest in ZUCCHINI through this year's DVpit event.

ZUCCHINI is a collection that views sex through an asexual lens. It poses inquiries into constructs like gender, sexuality, and love to dissect the patriarchal/puritanical foundations from which our social perspectives often derive. Being a collection about asexuality, each story portrays a relationship that develops from forms of attraction other than physical.

In one story, a grieving widow purchases her first sex toy; in another, a woman uses sex to cope with the death of her abusive father, and later in the collection faces the long road to recovery; an administrative assistant seeks out a codependent relationship with her boss; a masochist hires a professional sadist to lead him toward self-actualization; a woman begins to recover from her sexual assault by staging a reenactment on her own terms; and lastly, two lifelong friends in a queerplatonic relationship decide to get married. Asexuality is an under-acknowledged identity within the LGBTQIA community and is often misunderstood. In seven stories, ZUCCHINI dissects the notion of attraction, explores the intersections of sexual identity and trauma recovery, and conveys the experience of intimacy without physical desire.

Three stories in the collection have been published in literary magazines. “Lien” appeared in volume 24 of Quarter After Eight and was nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. “An Informed Purchase” appeared in the summer 2018 issue of Midwestern Gothic and won the Jordan-Goodman Prize in Fiction. “The Ashtray” appeared in issue 16 of Rivet Journal and has been nominated for a 2020 Pushcart Prize.

Complete at 53,000 words, ZUCCHINI is a collection in conversation with Carmen Maria Machado’s HER BODY AND OTHER PARTIES, Lauren Groff’s FLORIDA, and Samantha Hunt’s THE DARK DARK.

If ZUCCHINI is of interest to you, I would be happy to send you the manuscript. Per your guidelines, I've appended the first twenty pages below, which is the entirety of the first story.

what comes next

i’m going to spend january revising the collection per my agent’s feedback. when i send it back to her, she’ll shoot it out to the first round of publishers. my understanding is that the goal is to get multiple offers on it so that it has to go to auction. if there are no offers, she’ll do another round of submissions, and so on, until we’ve exhausted our options. if that happens, we’ll reassess, but by then hopefully i’ll have another novel finished.

meanwhile, i’ll be continuing the PhD which entails teaching a 2/2, workshop, and 2 lit seminars per semester. i’m also still doing my creative coaching, writing fanfic, and working on my original projects. in summer, i’ll finally be moving to hopefully start going to school in person next fall.

the PhD is a 3 year program with an optional fourth year. i don’t see myself finishing in 3 years so i do plan to take the extra year unless something comes up. after the PhD, i’m not sure what i’ll do. a lot will probably change by then so i’m trying not to commit to one idea. i might apply to post-doc fellowships and tenure track positions, or i might leave the country and teach overseas, or i might move to LA and try to get in a writer’s room somewhere. i’ve got a lot of options.

overall thoughts/stuff i learned

first of all, you don’t have to go through all of this to publish a book. you could feasibly just write a book and query agents. the only reason it took me this long is because my PTSD brain was sabotaging me every step of the way and i didn’t start taking anything seriously until i found something i was willing to fight for (teaching). i went the MFA/literary route but other, faster routes are just as good. maybe better. probably better. actually if there’s any chance you can go a different route, you should take it.

reflecting on all of this, very little of it has anything to do with talent or being a good writer. nor does it have to do with being at the right place at the right time. i’ve only made it this far because i took very small steps over and over again, and during that walk met people who could help me -- the authors who have mentored me, the editors who accepted my stories, the agent who signed me. and as i got further along my path, i started being able to help other writers in the way i was helped.

i don’t believe i’ll ever be a great writer. the best thing i can say about my writing is that it’s competent and accessible. everything i write sets out to do something and most of the time it gets the job done. i don’t imagine i’ll ever be able to financially support myself with publishing, and i’ll certainly never be famous or well-known, but i’m good enough to keep making progress. i’ll probably continue to find opportunities that are adjacent to writing and that will keep me afloat, pending my health and provided the country doesn’t devolve into civil war.

probably the most important thing i learned in all this is that having a wide appeal isn’t the goal. you don’t write to be lauded or liked. you have to stay as true to yourself and your interests as you possibly can, so that the people who come across your path can see you and help you. you’ll need those people; no one gets anywhere alone. if you pander, if you’re too concerned with praise and success or being adored, you won’t make it very far. the rejection will eventually kill you.

with all that said, my advice to you is this: never stop writing. the ability to share our stories is the single most precious thing we have. you can’t let anything stop you from telling your stories the way you need them to be told.

#writing advice #the writing life #writing update

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ladyvader23 · 3 years

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Why I Think FanFiction is Important and Should be Normalized

I like to listen to youtube or podcasts while I play video games, usually on informational subjects. The other day I thought, “Maybe there’s some interesting fanfic commentators out there like there are for fiction writers!”

Oh boy. I was wrong.

There were a few one off videos. There’s one wonderful channel that I already knew about that talks about it (ColeyDoesThings). But the majority of videos were so negative. They were usually making fun of fics they considered bad or creepy, as if that represents all fanfic.

On top of that, I’ve met a lot of people both online and in real life who are either afraid to admit that they write fanfic, or they think fanfic is weird because of these popular depictions of fanfic in media.

Before I continue, I think it’s really important to say that it’s totally fine to not want to talk about your writing or reading habits. I had a friend who had to hide writing fanfic because her parents would ground her if she did. I’ve had other friends who just see it as a hobby and they don’t want to draw attention to it, and I’ve had some who hide it because they’re legitimately worried about how people will react. That’s completely valid and I totally support that 100%. Do what makes you happy and safe!

For me, though, I make it a point to be open about the role fanfiction has in my life. Without fanfiction, I wouldn’t have the job I have, or the friends I’ve made. I wouldn’t feel like me without it. For a long time, fanfiction was the only support I had to pursue who I wanted to be.

This is my story.

I have a learning disability. That in itself is a really long story, so to make it short, it made writing really, really difficult. English was consistently my lowest grade throughout my entire childhood and teen years. My English teachers HATED me. I can count...maybe two or three teachers who treated me like my writing had any worth?

And what was worse is that I didn’t even know what I had to explain it to anyone until halfway through high school. By then, any “help” the school system had ever offered me was tailored to issues I didn’t have, and my mother had to explain every single year to my IEP coordinators what help I actually needed.

I started writing fanfic probably when I was in seventh grade? It was hand written and was for Final Fantasy 10. I never published it, but I still remember the plot. My first published fanfic was for InuYasha. It was collaborative with my cousin, and it was reaaaaally badly written. I don’t even remember the title, actually, but it was a wild fic. It was my first real opportunity to experience fandom, to hear anything back from readers about what they thought of my writing. And I learned from that experience. I learned even more as I branched out to other fandoms. And because I had readers, it encouraged me to actually practice by writing more.

While fanfic comments can be negative and unproductive, I’ve had plenty of readers very nicely point out “hey, when someone else starts speaking, that’s a new paragraph.” Literally, I’d NEVER known that before someone said it in a review. I’ve also had people point out good grammar resources that I could use. I had people offer insight on how story structure works and doesn’t work. I learned about giving characters real flaws. I learned about creating conflicts that people actually care about and relate to. Most of these comments weren’t meant to educate, necessarily, but when people reacted a certain way, I wondered, “Why do they feel that way? What did I do right, what did I do wrong? How can I improve?” Then I tried out whatever I learned in a new story or chapter.

And yeah. Sometimes people just don’t jive with a story, or they’re trolls. But you know what? I learned from that too! I learned how to respond or not respond when people just don’t like what you’ve written and there’s nothing you can really do about it. That’s a skill I’ve translated into other parts of my life outside of writing.

Through all of this, from my first fanfic to the ones I write now, I’ve learned so much about my writing and about who I am as a person. I’ve had the opportunity to meet so many cool people from all over the world, which in itself has been a seriously positive, life-changing experience!

But much of my life, I was constantly being told that I couldn’t do it, to not even bother trying. I’d go to school where I had teachers who took one look at my IEP and before they’d even given my writing a chance, treated me like a failure. I once tried to show one of my teachers one of my stories. It was a Twilight fanfic (I was sixteen and it was the height of the craze). I knew my teacher loved Twilight, and I’d seen her make connections with other students over their shared interest. I just wanted to connect with her, too, to show that even though my strength isn’t in what she wanted me to write, I still mattered. I still had a place in her classroom. But I didn’t even finish asking her to read a little before she told me she was “too busy” (and then proceeded to give me an F because I did the entire worksheet, not “just the even number questions.” Like seriously, what?).

It was really conflicting. On one hand, fanfic was so much fun, I had positive and constructive feedback on my stories, and I felt like I’d improved enough to go toe-to-toe with anyone else naturally gifted in writing. On the other hand, I had every authority figure in my life telling me to not bother. When I went to college, I really wasn’t sure I knew what to do. I had dreams to be a writer, but maybe people online were just being nice and I was better off doing something else.

But I signed up to major in English anyway, and to my surprise, my college professors were way more supportive. Feedback was actually constructive. I didn’t have any kind of IEP equivalent attached to my name or record, which...brings up a lot of other concerns I have about the American education system because seriously, why are we judging people’s abilities like that??? But for the first time, I felt like I had a real chance. I graduated in English education, and though I left education because I have a lot of issues with how America runs its education system, I still work in a job where I write their entire policy and procedures. I literally write all day, and when I’m done with work, I write either my fanfiction or my own personal WIP.

If I hadn’t had any of that positive experience with fanfic and the community that surrounds it, I wouldn’t have made the decision to do English as my major in college. I wouldn’t have a job I love. I wouldn’t have the friends I have. I feel like as a whole, I wouldn’t have as much passion as I do for stories...which is a HUGE part of who I am!

I talk openly and positively about fanfic because there are others out there who might be like me. If all they hear about is how dorky or weird or creepy fanfic is, then that might scare them off. And what if fanfic leads them to supportive, wonderful friends? What if it leads them to a career option that makes them really happy? Or, you know, what if they just want to have a lot of fun and fanfic can do that for them (because you can totally just have fun, you don’t HAVE to learn or get anything else from fanfic)?

I think we need to normalize fanfiction. Yes, there are negatives, we shouldn’t not address those, but when it’s positive, let’s talk about that! I think this particular site is really good at that, but I mean in real life. Maybe on other platforms too, I don’t know. I just have a lot of feelings about why fanfic is so important, and I just wanted to share my story to at least explain some of that.

Feel free to add your own experiences, I’d love to hear them from either writers of fanfic or readers!

#writing #fanfic #my story #long post #personal

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the-fixation-zone · 4 years

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a drink from hell

okay so i haven’t written fanfic in literal years (and even then, it was only one, unpublished) and my writing in general is rusty, but i saw this answer by @hurricanezukka and i just. i had to write something. so here it is! it doesn’t follow the prompt exactly, the plot got a little away from me, and if i didn’t just write something i was going to take a billion years on it/not finish it at all so! anyway! the Work!

~5k words

“Your change is three dollars.” Zuko hands over the bills, trying not to wrinkle his nose as yet another person purchases his Uncle’s…concoction. The customer smiles and walks down to the end of the counter, awaiting what Zuko believes can only loosely be considered a drink. He sighs through his nose, turns, and begins crafting. A Thai tea with…boba. He tries not to gag as he finishes it and hands it over with its obnoxiously large straw. The customer’s eyes light up when she sees it, her “thank you!” almost lost in the loud popping of the drink’s seal. Zuko does not say you’re welcome. Instead, he tries to keep his eyes from rolling and goes back to the register. Another day, another delusional person. When Uncle Iroh had said he wanted to try something new in his tea shop, Zuko hadn’t questioned it. It was his shop, after all, and Zuko was only there because of his Uncle’s love. Uncle obviously knew how to run a business without outside influence. But when Uncle had shown him the little…black…balls he intended to put into the most finely brewed tea in the city, Zuko had nearly put his foot down.

“Uncle. What…what are those.”

“They are tapioca balls, nephew! Don’t they look delicious? It will add a bit of fun to drinking tea, if I say so myself!”

Right. Fun. As if drinking hot (or, in this case, cold) leaf juice needed to be a diverting activity. Zuko had said nothing and had dutifully tried one. And then he had just as dutifully spit it out when Uncle wasn’t looking. Honestly, what the fuck was he thinking?

So now Zuko stands behind the counter of the Jasmine Dragon and waits for people to come in and order the monstrosity, forcing him to relive his waking nightmare. Cold tea. And tapioca balls. It isn’t enough to make him rethink working here, but it’s damn close.

“Gooooood afternoon! I hear you guys have something called boba tea?”

Zuko’s eyes clench close reflexively before he remembers the customer service etiquette Iroh tried to drill in him. He opens his eyes and says, through clenched teeth, “Yes. We do. Only place in the city.”

“Wooooow.” The customer is flashing him a bright smile, one that takes Zuko off-guard for a moment. Sure, sometimes customer’s smile at him. It’s usually because they want something. A bit knocked off the price of their drink; to be able to use an expired coupon. But this customer doesn’t seem to want anything. Just the boba. “Is it good?”

Zuko raises his eyes from the smile to the man’s eyes, intending on telling him the honest truth, but he’s arrested by how bright blue they are. Zuko forgets how to form sentences. The customer’s tanned skin makes his eyes look even bluer, the little blue beads in the single braid that comes down into his face tying the whole package together. He has laugh lines.

“Uh—what?”

The customer’s smile falters, just a bit. “The boba? Is it good? I mean, my sister says it’s great, but who can trust a little sister’s taste?” He winks, bringing Zuko into the joke. Zuko thinks about Azula’s taste in, well, anything, and finds himself nodding along.

“Yeah. Yeah, I understand. Uh, a lot of people say it’s good. Like, uh, it’s ordered a lot? Instead of regular tea?” Zuko does not know why he’s asking his customer these statements, but Zuko also doesn’t know why he isn’t just telling him that the boba fucking sucks and to try something else. Maybe it’s because the customer is still smiling, even though by now he’s sure to have gotten a proper look at Zuko’s marred face. Maybe it’s because his hair, the rest of it that’s not in the little braid but is instead in a wolftail, looks so soft…

Maybe Zuko is a bit preoccupied.

“Well, that’s good enough for me! How about I get a small black milk boba tea and let you know what I think?”

Zuko nods numbly, tells him how much it is, and exchanges currency. He’s fairly certain he doesn’t look at the till to do it, but the customer doesn’t say anything about incorrect change so maybe he’s done it right. Zuko makes the tea with shaking fingers. When he finishes, he turns and sees the customer leaning against the counter, looking down at his phone. He looks up, as if he knew Zuko was looking at him, and flashes that smile again. Zuko passes over the tea and their fingers brush.

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.”

Zuko watches as the customer walks to a table near the windows, pulls out a laptop (how long had he been wearing a messenger bag?) and gets to work. Zuko, unfortunately, finds it hard to get back to work for the rest of his shift.

***

Zuko’s off the next few days and he spends his free time reading. Mostly Wikipedia articles, but if pressed Zuko would defend his habits as educational to the last breath. Besides, it isn’t as if he is just reading them for fun, not that anyone asked. He’s editing. The nature of Wikipedia is such that anyone, even idiots, can create a page. It is a beautiful idea in theory, but in practice it gives Zuko a headache. He doesn’t edit every inaccurate page that he comes across (he’d get nothing else done) but he does look through pages he considers himself an expert on. Species of turtle, types of candle wax, the furnace manufacturing industry—well. There are plenty of things to keep him occupied until his next shift. He very pointedly does not think about the blue-eyed bombshell from the other day who stayed in the shop for several hours, long after he had finished his tea. He also doesn’t think about how, after finishing the tea, the blue-eyed customer had looked up and unerringly found Zuko’s eyes to give him a big, hammy thumbs up with another grin. He doesn’t think about how he’d fumbled the teacup that had been in his hand and blushed furiously, thanking the gods the cup had been empty. He doesn’t think about how, though he didn’t look back at the customer’s table ever again, he could feel the man’s eyes on him. He really doesn’t think about that.

Instead, he thinks about how someone has changed all the mentions of “tortoises” to “turtles” as he viciously changes them back. Honestly, if there weren’t a difference why would there be two separate words?

His next shift is an early one. 7am. Zuko doesn’t mind; he tends to rise early anyway. He comes in a few minutes before his shift starts, unlocking the door and bringing down chairs from their upside-down position on tables. He can hear Uncle in the back, counting change.

“Zuko, is that you?”

Zuko sighs. “Yes Uncle. Were you expecting someone else?”

Uncle Iroh’s chuckle can be heard clearly in the front room. “No, no, just glad you are here. Today is going to be a great day!” Uncle comes through the door to the back, tying his apron around his generous belly. Zuko still doesn’t understand why Uncle, the owner of this shop, insists on working when he could easily just hire someone to take his place. He’s asked a few times, wondering why his uncle doesn’t take an early (or, honestly, past due) retirement, but Uncle always gives him the same answer. He grins, slaps Zuko on the back, and says, “Can’t leave all the fun to the young!” before busying himself with some part of the tea process. Zuko doesn’t understand it, but he’s long learned not to question it. He grabs his own apron and gets behind the counter, taking the glass jars of tea out from the cabinets to display them next to the till. Uncle is insistent that people see the tea before it’s brewed, so they know exactly what they are getting. Zuko doesn’t get it. He looks in the jars and sees different shades of dried leaf, which doesn’t help him choose which one he’ll hate least. But Uncle is the boss, so.

The morning goes quickly, a rush hitting a half hour after they open and holding steady until around nine. Perks of being located near the college campus, the best of which being that students in the early morning are dead-eyed and silent. They take their caffeine and go, without much small talk. Zuko decides to take his break after the rush, knowing another one will start up again in an hour or so. Uncle had decided pretty early on that tea was much better with a snack, and so had added café food to the menu. Oatmeal, avocado toast, and smoothie bowls are part of the Jasmine Dragon’s repertoire, among other tasty things, which brings more people in for lunch than they’d get just serving tea. A blessing and a curse, Zuko thinks. A blessing, because more customers mean more tips. A curse because…well, customers. Zuko throws together a sandwich and starts to head to the back. Uncle always says he’s welcome to eat in the dining room, where the seats are more comfortable, but Zuko prefers not to be seen while he eats. Usually, Uncle leaves it just at that. Today, however, he pushes Zuko a little more.

“Are you sure, nephew? I chose these couches myself for their comfort! I think you will enjoy your lunch a bit better if you sit out here today.” Uncle has an odd twinkle in his eye as he says this, one Zuko doesn’t have the energy to parse through. He looks at the clock, then back at Uncle, and realizes if he wants to have any food at all it’s better to just give in now. Zuko shrugs and heads to the dining room instead, taking an armchair close to the back. The room is, thankfully, empty for now. Not knowing how long that will last, Zuko starts to take a bite of his sandwich when the bell over the door rings. He sighs, moving to get up, but Uncle waves him off and heads towards the till to take care of the customer. Grateful, Zuko sinks back into the armchair, eyes drifting to the newcomer in case they try to give Uncle any trouble. As his eyes find him, Zuko freezes. It’s. The blue-eyed man.

Zuko does not drop his sandwich.

The man walks to the counter, familiar grin on his face, and greets Uncle like they’re old friends. Zuko watches, confused, as they immediately launch into a hushed conversation too quiet for him to make out. He does catch Uncle attempting to subtly point in his direction, though, and feels his ears go red. Better not to worry about it, Zuko thinks, and hunches deeper into his armchair to nibble on his sandwich. Not worrying about it, he keeps his eye on the customer.

Eventually, after it seems the man has finally ordered, the customer moves down the counter away from Uncle, and Iroh starts his tea. Instead of looking at his phone like he did last time, the man looks directly at Zuko and makes a beeline for his corner. Zuko eats a bit faster.

“Hey! You on break?”

Zuko wishes he hadn’t eaten so fast. “Mmph? Uhk, er—”

The other man’s eyes fill with concern and he puts his hands up, palms out. “Whoa, whoa sorry! I should’ve waited, take your time!” He watches Zuko swallow with a soft smile, getting comfortable in a nearby armchair. Zuko tries to tone down his impression of a human tomato.

“I—fuck—hi. Hello. Again.”

The customer’s smile stays soft, but a light comes into his eyes. “Hello. Again. Name’s Sokka,” and he reaches a hand out to shake, “what’s yours?”

Zuko definitely drops his sandwich now (onto the table, thank fuck) and quickly meets the man’s—Sokka’s—hand with his own. Sokka’s hand is pleasantly cool. “Uh, I’m Zuko.”

“Zuko. Cool.” Sokka keeps looking at him, and smiling at him, and should Zuko let go now? Or is it okay, since Sokka hasn’t let go either? Zuko wracks his brain for the last time he shook anyone’s hand and how long the shake lasted and comes up maddeningly blank. Has Zuko shaken anyone else’s hand before?

Sokka’s smile grows. He slowly removes his hand from Zuko’s grip, fingers lingering. Zuko has just enough presence of mind to bring his hand back to his lap, and not leave it dangling in midair like an idiot. It’s a near thing, though.

“Uh, so. What were you and Uncle talking about?” Zuko asks, the first thing that comes to mind.

“Oh! That’s your uncle?” Sokka looks over his shoulder for a second, then looks back. “Oh, uh, nothing? Would you believe nothing? We were just shooting the breeze, you know, real casual small talk.” Sokka does not sound very convincing, but he also doesn’t sound like he’s going to change his story so Zuko doesn’t push it.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, he’s, uh, he’s good at that. Small talk.” Unlike me oh gods strike me down now.

“He seems like a good guy!” The nervous look leaves Sokka’s eyes, which is just as well because that means they’re not shifting all over the place and are firmly planted on Zuko’s face. “Must be nice to have such a nice uncle to work for. All the free boba you want! What a dream.”

Zuko’s eyes widen and he coughs. “Uh yeah. All the…the free b-boba…I’d want. Because it’s so good. Who doesn’t like boba? You like it, right?”

Before Sokka can answer, Uncle comes to their little corner with Sokka’s order: same as the other day, black milk tea with boba. This time, though, it’s a much bigger serving. Sokka’s eyes light up when he sees it, and he thanks Uncle profusely as he stabs into the drink’s seal. Zuko tries to hide his grimace, his question thoroughly answered. He looks at Uncle, intending on asking if he should get back to work, but Uncle just gives him a wink and walks off without saying anything. Flustered, Zuko stays put. Between slurps of tea, Sokka begins to ask him about himself and, helpless, Zuko answers. He makes sure to keep his eyes on Sokka’s face, rather than the abomination he’s inhaling, but really that’s not much better. Looking at Sokka makes Zuko feel like he’s on fire. Every time Sokka asks him something his tongue trips over itself trying to provide the best, most accurate answer. He’s sure he looks like a buffoon but Sokka never comments, just keeps smiling at him and encouraging him to answer. He just wants to know and Zuko doesn’t get it.

“Uh, so. What about you? You were working on something the other day…what was it?” Immediately Zuko wants to take it back, sure he’s asked something too personal, maybe the guy doesn’t want to talk about his work, honestly Zuko just think sometimes—

“Oh! I’m glad you asked, I’ve been meaning to bounce some ideas off someone!” Sokka’s eyes light up like he’s been given another boba as he launches into an explanation of his work. He’s a PhD student apparently, trying to hammer out a decent thesis proposal for his dissertation on medieval war tactics. War isn’t really Zuko’s interest, but he does know a bit about medieval history so he offers advice when he can. He’s sure it’s not very helpful, but Sokka seems to take it all very seriously, even pausing for a moment to bring his laptop out and take some notes. Zuko doesn’t have the heart to tell him most of his information was collected from his Wikipedia hunts. Before Zuko knows it, the lunch rush has come and gone and evening is swiftly approaching. When he finally notices a clock he swears, standing up quickly.

“Oh shit, I should go back to work! Oh man, I left Uncle all alone, I—” He looks around frantically hoping to catch his uncle’s eye.

Sokka stands too, seemingly also unconscious of the time. “Oh wow, yeah it’s later than I thought. I’ve got to go, Katara’s gonna kill me…” He quickly packs up his things, having over time brought out papers and folders along with his laptop, haphazardly shoving things back into his messenger bag. “This was good, though! I really liked talking to you. Until next time?” Sokka shoots Zuko a hopeful look as he puts his items away. Zuko blinks a few times, still in Red Alert mode, but takes a second to look back at Sokka. And nods.

“Yeah. Next time.”

***

Next time is apparently the very next day. Zuko isn’t scheduled but Uncle calls him in last minute, as Jin, one of the other employees of the Jasmine Dragon, apparently called in sick. Zuko isn’t planning on doing anything but sweep through Wikipedia so he agrees, taking a quick shower before heading over and arriving with his hair still a bit damp. Uncle gives him a wide smile when he sees him arrive, which Zuko returns, albeit in a more subdued manner, before he spots Jin behind him. His eyes narrow.

“Uncle. I thought you said Jin called in sick.”

“Ah, nephew, you see….” His uncle has the good grace to blush. “She had called in sick, but it seems she felt a bit better and decided to come in anyway!”

“Uncle, you called me twenty minutes ago. Did she get sick and better within the span of half an hour?”

Uncle shrugs, unperturbed by being called out in an obvious lie. “Who is to say, nephew? Illnesses come and go, sometimes. Since you are here already, why don’t I make it up to you? You go sit in your corner and I’ll bring you some tea!” Uncle has that look in his eye, the one Zuko knows means he’s been caught in something he can’t see yet, which doesn’t make any sense….

It’s then that Zuko looks to “his” corner. And sees Sokka sitting in the same chair as yesterday, tapping away on his laptop.

“Uncle! Did you--?” Zuko doesn’t even know how to finish the sentence, but one look at the conniving old man tells him all he needs to know. Zuko groans. “I’m going home, Uncle.”

“No, no! Why go home if you are already here? You may as well relax your poor feet and have some good conversation while you are at it. Go, go sit and I will bring you and your…companion some tea and pastries.” Uncle makes a shooing motion and Zuko finds his feet have decided to make their own decisions, choosing to carry him over to Sokka. Sokka seems to know he’s there because when he gets close, Sokka turns to greet him.

“Zuko! I didn’t know you were working today! Good to see you.” He indicates the chair opposite him, snug in the corner. “Join me?”

Zuko nods numbly and goes to sit. “I wasn’t working today. Uncle called me in, said Jin called out sick…but she’s not sick. She’s right over there.” He points to where Jin is laughing with Uncle about something. He hopes to the gods it’s not him.

“Hmm. Sick but not sick huh? Well, I guess it’s my lucky day then,” Sokka says, beaming a smile at Zuko. Zuko feels warm down to his toes and musters a small smile back.

“Yeah, I guess.” Zuko scratches the back of his neck, feeling the weight of conversation-making drop onto his shoulders. How do people do this?

Thankfully, Sokka seems to feel no such weight and launches right into a story about his sister and their roommate, a blind girl named Toph who sounds like a handful. Sokka doesn’t look like Zuko’s one-word answers bother him, seemingly content to talk about whatever, switching topics on a whim. It’s…comforting. When Sokka wants something from Zuko, he asks. He doesn’t push and doesn’t stray into awkward territory. He doesn’t’ ask about the scar. At one point, Zuko looks down and sees there’s tea in front of both of them, the usual for Sokka and a smaller version of the same for him along with two croissants. He didn’t even notice Uncle coming by. He doesn’t say anything about the cup of boba in front of him, choosing to pretend he doesn’t see it.

“Oh! Can I get your opinion on something?” Sokka asks, his laptop now out. He looks a little nervous, typing at some keys.

“Yeah, sure, I guess. What is it?” Zuko doesn’t know what Sokka could possibly want his opinion on, but he can’t possibly say no.

“Well, it’s this paragraph. I think I’m describing the reign of this king right, but the way you said it yesterday made so much more sense…” Sokka lifts his laptop to hand it over to Zuko, and Zuko doesn’t understand because he could just slide it over and—oh. Sokka’s fingers brush against Zuko’s in the handoff, and Zuko has no more complaints. He takes the laptop, feeling his face heat up, and tries not to fumble it as he turns it around.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me read it.” He does, half his mind on the highlighted paragraph and the other half on how nice Sokka’s fingers had felt on his. “This seems right. If anything I’d just, well…” He turns on track changes and does a few minor edits, hands it back. Hopes Sokka’s fingers will touch his again and is not disappointed. Sokka’s ears seem a bit red but otherwise he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, great! Yeah, see that’s what I meant, you just are so good at that. The words, I mean.”

Zuko looks at him like there’s worms coming out of his eyes. Him? Good with words? What planet is Sokka from? He doesn’t say anything though, just shrugging.

The day passes the same as the one before, Sokka alternating between asking Zuko questions and working on his thesis proposal. Zuko tells him about his love of turtles, and his Wikipedia obsession, though he refrains from calling it an “obsession” and refers to it as “an academic obligation.” Sokka nods as if this makes sense. Zuko finds the courage to ask Sokka a bit too, about his sister (Katara, a bit of a pain but the way Sokka talks about her Zuko knows he loves her), his roommate Toph (exactly as much of a handful as that story made her sound like), his parents (dead mom, Zuko regrets asking, and great dad, Zuko really regrets asking) and his school program. Occasionally Zuko will catch Sokka looking at him in a way he can’t read, like Sokka is puzzling something out. When Zuko catches him, he raises his one eyebrow in question but Sokka shakes his head and goes back to his laptop. Zuko leaves it at that.

When it’s time for the Jasmine Dragon to close, neither are ready for it.

“Time sure flies, huh?” Sokka asks, looking genuinely bewildered at the position of the sun. “I should be getting back.”

“Yeah, me too.” Zuko stands, instinctively clearing the table. “This was. Nice. I’m…glad I came in today.”

Sokka gives him a soft smile, pausing in putting his laptop and papers away. “I’m glad too.”

***

For the next week, Zuko is working every day. When asked why he signed up for seven days in a row, Zuko shrugs.

“Rent is coming up.”

His Uncle, who is very familiar with his nephew’s finances, smiles and says nothing.

And if Zuko’s breaks are spent in the corner of the dining room with a certain blue-eyed regular, well. It’s nobody’s business but his.

He makes sure he doesn’t go over time, feeling guilty about the work he skipped last time, but when he goes back behind the till Sokka doesn’t leave. In fact, he just moves tables, sitting in a chair closer to the counter, angled towards Zuko. Zuko doesn’t know why, but he isn’t complaining. It’s much easier to watch Sokka this way.

The man really was beautiful. Zuko’s never been very good at describing people, wrinkling his nose at the labels people use for body parts. All he knew was that something about Sokka called to him, somewhere deep down, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Or if there was anything to do. Sokka was a customer, after all! He came for his (disgusting) tea and a quiet place to work. And, apparently, to talk to Zuko, sometimes. But that didn’t mean anything. Still. For seven days, Sokka came in and ordered his boba, they chatted during Zuko’s breaks, and Zuko watched him work when he had to go back behind the till. He might have dropped a mug or two. But who was counting? Apparently not Uncle, who only gives him mysterious looks whenever it happens and sweeps up the glass without comment. He also seems to be oddly occupied in the back of the shop, leaving Zuko at the front. Alone. On days when Uncle is not in the shop, but Jin or Piandao are working instead, they also seem to make themselves…scarce, unless there’s a rush. Zuko doesn’t question it, as it leaves him more chances to watch Sokka unobserved.

Somewhere in the middle of the week, Sokka starts coming up to the counter after the lunch rush to ask Zuko some more questions. Mostly about his proposal, but sometimes not. He always goes back to his chair when a customer comes in, ever courteous of Zuko’s job, but Zuko kind of wishes he wouldn’t. Zuko would much rather explain to Sokka his disinterest in organized sports than watch a customer stare at the menu above Zuko’s head for five minutes, just to give a fake laugh and ask what Zuko thinks they should get. Zuko really wishes they would stop asking his opinion on tea.

By the end of the week, Zuko desperately needs a break. All his clothes, even his non-work ones, reek of tea. He doesn’t know how, but they do, and he’s tired. His feet hurt. He thinks he’ll do something violent if he has to make small talk with another customer. But he looks over at Sokka and thinking about the prospect of not seeing him for a few days fills him with panic. Maybe he could come in anyway? But, surely that’d be obvious, right? Maybe he can ask Uncle to loudly call him on the phone…

It’s nearing closing time and Zuko is still thinking about what to do. Sokka’s still there, which isn’t unusual. He hasn’t left before closing time all week. He gets up, stretches, and starts packing his things away. Also not unusual. What is unusual is that, instead of giving Zuko a wave and heading out, he walks up to the counter.

“Hey.”

“…hey?” Zuko’s mind switches from thinking about how to see Sokka in the next few days to how to deal with the Sokka in front of him. “Want a tea for the road?”

“Well, actually…” Sokka brings a hand up to tug at his braid, biting his bottom lip. Zuko tries not to track this motion and utterly fails. “I was wondering. You, uh. You’ve been working a lot this week, haven’t you?”

Zuko blinks. Sokka had noticed? “Uh, yeah. I’m supposed to be off a couple days soon.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, that makes sense, cool. Would…would tomorrow be one of those days?”

“Maybe? It, uh, could be? Why?”

Sokka tugs a final time at his braid before planting both hands on the counter. “Wellyousaidyoulikedturtlesright?”

Zuko frowns. “What?”

Sokka takes a deep breath. “Well. You said you liked. Turtles, right?”

Zuko nods slowly. “Yeah…?”

“Okay. Okay, so, I’m planning on going to the aquarium tomorrow. I have a free day from—” he gestures to the messenger bag on his shoulder, as if that explains anything at all, “—and was wondering if you wanted to join me?”

Zuko’s eyes widen. “Oh, like. You and me? At the aquarium?”

Sokka seems to gain his equilibrium in the face of Zuko’s awkwardness and grins. “Yeah, you and me. Like a date?” As confident as Sokka suddenly looks, Zuko can tell he’s a little nervous. Zuko rushes to reassure him.

“Yes! Yes. I would. I would like that. A date.”

“Great! Meet here at 2?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

Sokka leaves and Zuko allows himself a solitary fist pump.

***

The next day, Zuko comes in to find Sokka already out front, holding two cups.

“I thought I’d get us some boba for the trip over! Here,” and he hands one to Zuko. Zuko looks at it like it’s going to bite him. Sokka doesn’t notice, having already popped the seal on his and taking a big slurp. Zuko watches the boba balls go up the straw with dread.

“Come on, man, no need to be shy. Don’t even think you have to pay me back, just go ahead and enjoy!”

Zuko’s eye twitches but, as if on autopilot, he stabs into his drink. Takes a few sips. He tries his best, but a ball of boba gets stuck in his straw and he has no choice but to bring it all the way up. The moment it touches his tongue he makes the loudest retching sound, dropping his drink onto the pavement and launching the ball from his mouth to land on Sokka’s shirt.

Sokka, for his part, is in hysterics.

He laughs at him the whole way to the aquarium, and a bit more while they’re there for good measure. In fact, he doesn’t stop laughing until Zuko kisses him, right next to the turtle tank.

fin

#zukka #zuko #sokka #atla #fanfic #my work #AAAAAAAAAA i barely read over this so i hope it's okay??#im not gonna berate myself in the tags but that's only due to sheer force of will ok #also thank u hurricanezukka for ur really nice messages on the snippet i posts i freaked the heck out when i read them #and was thinking about ur comments when i kept writing #so thanks

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roguish-gallery · 4 years

Note

How would Jonathan Crane react to eventually reuniting with one of his old students? Someone who actually really looked up to him and admired his passion for teaching, but was one of the quieter students who never spoke up in class. But now that he's no longer their teacher, they feel much more comfortable talking to him?

Sorry this took so long to write! I got... a bit... carried away... uhhh. Here’s my first ever full-ass fanfic, kept under the read more like always! I hope you like it!

p.s. if the formatting on this is too weird, I also have it on my ao3 here

Jon + Reuniting with a Former Student!

It’s incredible how little he seemed to age over the years. His auburn hair might have gotten a bit greyer and thinner, and the lines under his eyes have gotten darker, but he remained just as tall, as intimidating as he was those years ago. After all these years, Jonathan Crane still goes to the same café, orders the same coffee, and even sits in the same seat. In a way, you almost admired how little he cared about keeping his identity a secret.

Of course, the last time you saw him in this café, it was during his office hours, and you had come to talk with him about the midterm. Now he’s… well. You know.

A wanted criminal.

A killer.

The Scarecrow.

You’re shocked how no one has noticed him sitting there except for yourself- a testament to how thoroughly desensitized Gothamites are towards flamboyant villainy. Or, possibly, the burlap mask does work to hide his identity. Probably a combination of the two, you figured.

You absentmindedly tapped your fingers along the table. You should have left the moment you saw him; anyone who’s watched the news would never want to be in the same room as the fucking Scarecrow. Who knows what he might do? What if he floods the air vents with fear toxin? What if he lunges at a waitress for getting his order wrong?

Yet… you still haven’t left, he has yet to create any incidents, and… you still want to talk to him. It’s not like the opportunity will ever present itself again. When will you get this chance?

Fuck it, let's go. you thought. The worst-case scenario is that you get to take a few days off from work to detox yourself. The threat of fear toxin has almost become as routine for the average Gothamite as getting into a car accident; unexpected, unfortunate, and it certainly ruins your day, but it’s nothing new. Finishing your coffee, you rose from your seat to approach him.

As you got to his table, you felt your stomach churn as Crane’s eyes darted from his book to you. He watched you with caution, his mouth pressed into a familiar displeased line. He looked mildly annoyed by your presence, but he said nothing. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand his unspoken threat- what will happen to yourself and everyone in this building if you chose to make his presence known. In an attempt to make things appear more casual, you took the seat across from him. He quirked a brow, but allowed it.

You might have thought you didn’t make a presence, but Jonathan Crane never forgets a face. Especially the face of someone brave enough to take his class.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Crane cuts you off. “No need to exchange formalities here.” he gestured vaguely to the surrounding café patrons. “This is hardly the place. Before you ask, yes, I do remember you- your final paper on cognitive dissonance was… adequate.” He took a sip of coffee. “If you’re asking me to change your grade, well, it’s a bit late for that.”

“Oh...” You didn’t even remember the grade you got on that final. “Well… I won’t bother you for long… I just wanted to pop in for a quick chat.”

He rolled his eyes and dog-eared his spot on his book. “Alright, but make it quick.”

...

.......

“Um..." You stutter. "... What are you doing here?”

Crane’s nose twitched. “All the things you could ask me, and you choose that?” He paused for a moment, and sighed. “Fine. If I’m being honest, no one makes coffee as good, cheap, and black as this old haunt does. Furthermore, even I get nostalgic sometimes.”

...

........

The two of you awkwardly stare at each other.

“If you don’t have anything else to tell me, you can leave.” he said.

...Better cut to the chase, then.

“I’ll leave you alone, but before I do…" You linger off, trying to find the right words. "I just wanted to let you know that you were my favorite professor back when I was in college. You changed me for the better... if you can believe it.”

Crane's eyes widened, and he disdainfully shook his head. “Of all the professors you could have chosen, and you decide that I’m your favorite? I thought I had taught you better than that. All of my research, my field data on fear, and yet I somehow fail to scare away a former student. Pathetic”

“I suppose you still have some work to do, then.” You told him.

“Yes,” he mused. “I suppose so.”

There’s more silence, before Crane decided to press further. “May I ask why?”

“I wasn’t in a good place back in school… I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, and I didn’t know how to articulate those thoughts into a vocal, healthy way... You though, you were always so passionate during your lectures” You explained. “Even if the tests were hard, and I hated having to cram for them. Coming to class and watching you talk about whatever, it was nice. You gave me hope that I’ll have that fire too, once I graduate.”

Something about that seemed to get to Crane. He blinked in surprise, and the irritated expression he had throughout the entire exchange… disappeared. His eyes softened just a bit, and his shoulders lowered into a more natural position. He studied your face, trying to find the smallest hint of deceit; something to let him know that this was just another joke. When he couldn’t find any, he sank back into his chair, his face now unreadable.

....

“... Did you find that fire?” He quietly asked.

“I don’t know... but I at least found enough to talk to you, even after all these years.”

The quiet returned, but it’s less awkward now, more comfortable. The air surrounding the table seemed to settle, and you could finally breathe.

“If it means anything to you, I am... flattered by the kind words.” Crane muttered something else under his breath, but you could make out a very restrained “Thank you”.

“I’ve got to go now, but thank you for your time, Professor.” You got up from your chair, hesitating. “It was good to see you again… I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now.”

He graciously nods his head. “It was… good to see you too… I enjoyed our talk.”

Before you could go any further towards the exit, he beckoned you back.

“Before you go- don’t drink from your tap next Tuesday. I’ll be testing out a city-wide experiment then.” He whispered.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly nodded your head. You needed to update your health insurance anyway. You thanked him again, bid him farewell, and left.

Jonathan remained in his seat as he watched you leave. He took a glance at his watch, wincing slightly at how much time had passed. He ought to be headed back to his hideout, assuming he wanted his plan to work on time.

Hmph- that’s what I get for getting sentimental. He finished the last sip of coffee lingering at the bottom of his cup, and shuffled his papers back into his satchel. It was good while it lasted, he supposed. Jonathan rapped his fingers along the table.

How long has it been since he’s been here last? Ten... no... twelve years? Dear god.

Despite the time gap, the café was just how he remembered it. Of course, things have changed- repainted walls, some refurbished furniture, and all of the regulars he shared the space with have long-since retired or graduated. Still though, things were fundamentally the same. College students mingling with each other, some trying to tutor less than-enthused peers, some study groups feverishly swapping notes with each other. The minimum-wage baristas, as expected, passed the time by flirting, or trying to study for their own classes. Yes, everything was just the same as he had left it.

And in the thick of the chaos, in the corner table sat Jonathan Crane, either up to his neck in library books, or helping out his students. Despite a more casual setting, the café had become just as academic of a place to Jonathan as the Gotham U libraries or the psychology conferences he used to attend.

His train of thought was broken as the waitress gently cleared her throat.

“Sir?” she asked. “Would you like your check?”

He thought about it for a moment. He did have work to do… but…

“Actually, could I get a refill?”

“Of course. Black coffee, right?”

“That’s right. Thank you”

Jonathan watched her take his cup away, and he pulled his book and notes back out. The fear toxin can wait.

Let him stay in this moment... just a bit longer.

#jonathan crane #the scarecrow #headcanons #dc headcanon #DC comics

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captainscanadian · 4 years

Text

Reputation | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

My Masterlist

Summary: Freshman year was all about the failed friendships. Sophomore year was all about the lack of a social life. Junior year was supposed to be about focusing on school, until Bucky Barnes came along.

Word Count: 3245

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), FUCKBOI BUCKY, MINORS FUCK OFF!

A/N: Reputation, as a title, was heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s iconic album of the same name. This is my entry for @buckysmischief‘s 1K Writing Challenge. I know I’m a few days late but I started a fic with smut in the first chapter so... it took some time to perfect it. I’d like to thank my boo @baezen for being a good beta and for the constant love. Lastly, the reason why this whole fic (and my blog itself) exists in the first place was because I was reading @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend‘s College AUs and wanted to write one of my own. It’s been 11 months since then and I finally did it. This fic is an unofficial AU of my own fic, Better, but you don’t have to have read it to read this fic. Same characters, but they meet in a completely different time of their lives, under completely different circumstances. Better!Bucky is back, but he’s at NYU now. I DON’T OWN THE GIF & I DON’T DO TAGLISTS.

Whoever made the claim that college was the place where one would meet their lifelong friends was most definitely the biggest moron on this planet. You firmly believed that when you first arrived at NYU two years ago. Leaving your small town just outside of Philadelphia for the Big Apple, you had so many hopes and dreams when you got here. Education was your priority, but you had been so eager to meet new people and try new things just as much. After all, it’s all anyone who knew had told you. College is the place where you would meet your lifelong friends.

Bullshit. It was all bullshit.

Freshman year was all about newfound friendships. New kids huddled together in an unfamiliar environment, leaning on each other because being on your own for the first time in your lives was not easy. It was inevitable. It was human nature. A new environment meant the search for a sense of belonging. You had found that for yourself too.

A large group of friends, all ten of you being freshmen, you would claim one of the large round tables in the dining hall after your late afternoon biology lab. You ate, you talked, and you walked back to your dorms together. It became a ritual. But expecting that this kind of ritual would last until the end of your undergrad was a naive judgement to make.

By the end of that year, half of your friends had managed to switch to a different program and found another group of people to hang out with. The ones that remained in your group had managed to join their preferred extra-curricular activities and made more friends who shared the same interests. While you did manage to find the time to volunteer with the UNICEF chapter on campus, you hadn’t managed to make any close friends from that.

Sophomore year was to be the loneliest of years. The one friend you thought you would have for life had managed to ditch you for her sorority sisters – not that you had a problem with that. Your friendship had been hanging on a loose thread for a while before it came to a rather abrupt end. People grew up within the first two years of college, and people who grew up also grew apart from each other. It was inevitable. Margaret Sykes was also a complete fucking moron as she was, but that’s a story for another time.

Now in your junior year, you were starting to get back into the swing of things. After landing an on-campus job as an office assistant, you were hoping to keep yourself busy with your full-time course load. No time for fake friends, or real ones at that. You were finally moving on with your life, leaving behind those who had left you behind for good. After all, college was also supposed to be the best time of your life even without those lifelong friends. You might as well make the most out of the experience and build yourself a career.

It was the weekend before classes were to begin, and you found yourself sitting alone in the dining hall with a slice of pizza that was now getting cold. Having picked up your textbooks from the campus bookstore earlier that day, you decided to grab a bite before you would retreat to your dorm room for the remainder of the night. Perhaps you could get a head start on your readings.

Your lack of a social life seemed to be a blessing when it came to how you had planned ahead for the semester. When you weren’t working or volunteering, you would be studying and sleeping. One thing you had learned the hard way from your years of pulling all nighters – they did not work for you as they did to most people. Micro-planning might just be the way to survive the next two years.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see a large group of friends sitting at the same table you used to sit at during your freshman year. You could not help but roll your eyes, an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. Naive freshmen, you assumed they were. They’d learn the harsh truth in the next few months.

You took a bite of your pizza slice as you looked out the window that you had been sitting by. The breathtaking view of Washington Square Park reminded you of your first day in New York when you had stepped out of your dorm room to take a stroll. The summery weather of New York City had brought students, tourists and locals alike to the heart of campus. You loved this city and campus for how lively it was – a true multicultural land of opportunity.

New York had become home to you in the last two years, despite the dull memories of lost friendships. Moving to New York had been the right thing to do for your education. NYU really was the place for students to be. You had no concerns about the academics here as you did the social aspects of your life. But you wondered if you really wanted to stay in the city after graduation. You had no reason to stay, no one to hold you down in the Big Apple. Moving back to your parents’ house in Philadelphia was an option for you. Your father had been hoping that you would return home after graduation and take over the family business from him, but you wanted to do more than just blindly follow in your parents’ footsteps.

Speaking of footsteps, the sound of someone approaching your corner table made you turn back from the window. Your eyes landed on a familiar pair of blue ones, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you recognized the dark haired man who was walking up to you. He donned black skinny jeans and a red Henley, his long brown hair parted down the middle. It was a few inches longer than the last time you had seen him. A part of you had often wondered how hard it must have been to maintain those luscious locks of his. The shine and volume alone put the ladies to shame.

“James.”

James Barnes, or Bucky as he was referred as by his closest friends, had been your neurobiology tutor during your freshman year. After failing your first quiz on the effects of dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin on the brain, you had approached your professor in desperate need of help. You needed to pass that class in order to complete your degree and failing your first quiz was not a great start to your freshman year. But you had been so determined back then to succeed academically. You still were.

Professor Van Dyne had been gracious enough to assign one of her best upper year students to help you get your grades back up. According to her, James was the teacher’s pet in the biology department and the best person to study with. His photographic memory had allowed him to maintain a consistent 4.0 GPA since his freshman year. As impressive as that sounded, his reputation precedes him. He was known around campus, or at least within the biology students, as the Casanova of New York University.

Rumours across the Greek life circuit on campus – Bucky was the resident fuckboy. It was an untold truth around NYU that he had slept with at least one person in every sorority. According to Margaret, one of the sororities even included having a one-night stand with Bucky as part of their initiation. He was apparently the best night anyone could ever have, and even if he never called any one of his flings back, he would still be found lurking around the next party and leaving with someone else later that night. It was apparently a rite of passage - a rite of passage that you had managed to avoid for as long as you had.

“Hey, doll.” He pulled the chair across from you before sitting down at the table. “Long time, no see...”

You raised your eyebrow at him as you set your pizza slice back down on your plate. Picking up a napkin to wipe your mouth and hands, you shrugged your shoulders at him. “What do you want, James?” You asked him, holding up your hand before he could answer the question. You had known him along enough to know what he was going to say. “I know, it’s been two years since I took my first year neurobiology class. And no, you don’t have to show me how oxytocin affects the human brain.”

“You’re really going to break my heart like that, Y/N?” He asked, feigning hurt with a dramatic sigh as he bought his hand up to his chest.

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing softly before shaking your head. He’ll never learn. “Why are you even here right now? I thought you graduated last year.”

“Hey, just because I’ve graduated... summa cum laude, by the way, it doesn’t mean that I’m not welcome here.” Bucky remarked with a smirk plastered across his lips. “I have my own reasons for being here. You don’t own this campus, you know?”

You crossed your arms against your chest, still not breaking eye contact with him. There was no way you would fall for his charm. You had not done so in freshman year or sophomore year and you were not planning on doing it now. “Enlighten me.”

“Did Steve not mention that I got into NYU Med?” He asked you, his smirk not leaving his face.

Steve Rogers was Bucky’s best friend since childhood and the former president of the UNICEF chapter on campus. You had volunteered together for a few charity fundraisers over the years, but you were not as close to him as Bucky was. “Why would he have a reason to mention it?” You asked him as you leaned forward in your seat. “I would have placed my bets on you going to Columbia with him, if I’m being honest. You two seemed to be so inseparable. I can’t believe you just ditched him like that and let him take off.”

It was true. Bucky and Steve were inseparable. After all, they had grown up together since they were young kids. They were always together on campus, having taken a majority of their classes together. It was so rare to see one of them without the other.

“And did you really think that would impress me so much that I would actually end up sleeping with you?”

“Why?” He asked, almost in a whisper as he leaned forward in his seat. “Is it working?”

As the sun was finally setting over the New York City skyline, you found yourself perched up naked against a penthouse window in Brooklyn. The view from up here was much more breathtaking than the view of Washington Square Park from the dining hall window. But that was not the reason why you were so out of breath now. You were panting for air as you stared at the reflection of the man who stood behind you. After a heated make out session from Greenwich Village to Brooklyn, you wound up undressed in his bedroom that had a view like no other.

“I can’t believe that actually worked on me... you obnoxious asshole.” Your heart was pounding out of your bare chest as you felt the moisture trickle down your inner thighs, and you tilted your head back.

Bucky had a smug look on his face, one that was filled with just as much lust as it was filled with pure satisfaction. You had finally fallen for his charm, after two years of fighting it. He had seen the way you glanced at him every time he volunteered with you and Steve. He knew that you must have felt attracted towards him, even though you denied it every time he had brought it up.

He licked his lips as he gently pulled you towards him, turning you around so that he could kiss you on the lips rather roughly. “Playing hard to get doesn't suit you, doll.” His hands grasped your bare ass before his fingers slipped between your folds slick with your arousal. “You want me so badly, don’t you, Y/N? Don’t lie to me now. Your soaking pussy speaks the truth.”

You bit down on your bottom lip as you trembled to find the right words to say, your cheeks growing hot as did the rest of your body. A soft moan slipped out of you as you felt his cold fingers slide right into your entrance, sending shivers up your spine as you forgot how to stand still. You felt defeated by your own desires, having given in to his advances after fighting it for so long. You really thought you could get through your entire undergrad without being yet another one-night stand on James Barnes’ tally. But tonight, your strike was added to the drawing board with the rest of them.

“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me like you fucked every fucking sorority sister on campus?” You gasped. “They all say that you’re the best night they’ve ever had, Barnes. I won’t believe it until I have proof.” You asked him as you began to unbutton his Henley.

“Getting desperate, are we? You made me wait a few years for this, doll. I’d have to make you wait a little longer now than a few minutes.” He was such a tease. “I didn’t fuck Margaret Sykes though.” He pointed out, a teasing look on his face as he pulled his fingers out of you and motioned you towards his bed. “You two were close in freshman year, weren’t you? And then last year, you purged your Instagram of any photos of her. I noticed.”

You rolled your eyes at his mention of your former best friend, lying back in his bed as you still tugged on his Henley. He was fully clothed while you were naked and exposed – the power that he had over you now, it was astonishing. But you could not deny how desperate you were for him. After all, your own body had lost that fight against your attraction towards this man.

“Don’t bring up that bitch when I’m lying naked on your bed, James.” You told him, shaking your head at him. “If I could purge my own brain of any memories of her, I would.”

He chuckled as he sat down at the edge of his bed, his large hands firmly holding your thighs apart. “You act as though Margaret was the Antonio to your Bassanio, Y/N. It’s not like she would have cut out a pound of her flesh for you if you were ever in debt.” His bright eyes glanced down at your soaking core, his tongue peaking through his parted lips at the sight of just how aroused you were. He liked that he had such an effect on your body, knowing that you were attracted to him as he was attracted to you despite having known each other for years now. He pulled at your folds to get a glimpse of your throbbing clit, brushing his thumb over it in a quick teasing manner as he watched for your reaction.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a guy who reads Shakespeare.” You told him, giggling softly as you placed your arms above your head. It was a sign of you giving him full control of this ordeal; let him do what he was known to do best. After all, he did have a reputation. “But I think it’s so fucking hot that you do.”

Another moan as you felt his thumb over your clit; you bit down on your lips not to make any noise. Bucky had warned you that Steve’s bedroom was just down the hall from his and the last thing you wanted was to have an awkward run-in with the blonde haired man who had taught you all about volunteering for charitable organizations for the duration of your undergrad.

“I can recite Hamlet’s soliloquy in its entirety while I fuck you, if you would like me to.” He joked, his fingers now drenched with your wetness as he slipped them through your entrance once again. His thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his eyes watched eagerly for your reaction.

“To fuck or not to fuck... that is the question.” You laughed at your own joke before looking up at him, rather seductively, your left hand pinching your swollen nipples as you began to feel the pain between your thighs relieve with his touch. Moaning once again as he slipped another finger inside of you. “Oh fuck, James... you really want to waste your time reciting Shakespeare with me when you could be putting that mouth to better use? What even happened... to your so called reputation of... being the best night everyone’s ever had?”

Bucky chuckled softly as he continued to finger you for another moment, pulling them out only to remove his Henley. “Desperate.” He pointed out with a wink, unbuttoning his jeans and taking them off as well. “Is that what they’ve all been saying about me now?”

“Are you telling me.... that you’re unaware of your own reputation, James?” You asked him as you sat up against his headboard, feeling the moisture between your legs now seeping through the clear white sheets on his bed as you gasped for air. “Your reputation... precedes you.”

He walked to his nightstand to retrieve a condom, hand slipping below the waistband of his boxers to slowly stroke his cock. A tantalising smirk played on his lips. “Well then, why... don’t we... put an end to it?” He asked you, pulling down his boxers to reveal his half-hard cock.

Your eyes perked up at his length. “Damn...” You gasped. “They really weren’t lying.”

James Barnes raised his eyebrow at you before tossing the condom at you. “Do the honors, doll?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” You giggled, rolling over in bed so that you could reach him. Your hand wrapped around his manhood before stroking him until he was fully erect.

Bucky hissed at the feel of your touch against his length, shaking his head at you. “Desperate.”

Removing the condom from the package, you put it on him before you looked up to meet his lusty eyes. “Are you saying that you’re not desperate for me at all, Barnes?” You asked him before you pulled yourself on all fours, moving your hair out of the way.

“Two years was a long time, doll.” He admitted, his hands caressing your ass before he let himself slip though your entrance. He took his time to position himself, not wanting to hurt you in any way. “Let me know if you feel like I’m going too fast or you need me to stop, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded, eagerly. “Just fuck me already, James!”

“Desperate.”

Whoever made the claim that college was the place where one would meet their lifelong friends was most definitely the biggest moron on this planet. College was the place where one would have the best sex they ever had, and Bucky Barnes really did live up to his reputation that night.

#gabs1kwritingchallenge #reputation #aj writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #Better!Bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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keyenuta · 4 years

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TW Prologue: So enters The Wizard

(this is the first part of this fanfic i’m making, I hope y’all like what I write and enjoy the characters, if anyone is OOC I’m sorry, I’ll try and do better next chapter!) Pt2, pt3

In the Ramshackle dorm there’s only two people sitting in its time worn walls, Grim, the self proclaimed to be greatest Magician, purrs and mumbles in his sleep, muttering of his greatness and power, while his partner, or as he calls them, “minon” is shuffling in their sleep, turning and motioning in their sleep as like many nights before, all that’s on their mind is that mirror that stays perched atop their dusty fire place, Leaning atop its white base as it’s faded gold frame encapsulates its foggy glass.

But ever curious, and having a hard time falling back to sleep, after blinking the early dust from their eyes, the prefect lowly mumbles as their feet rake across the groaning wood beneath them, and as they approached the glass, memories popped into their sleep deprived mind. The queen of hearts, riddle, and as well, ghost pains from days ago, the feeling of thorns and magic arcing across their body, as with a deep sigh, the prefect found themselves in front of the glass once more.

“Ugh, wonder what the dream will be this time, if its something with the queen again, hopefully no more queens for month” They droned, peering into the glass once again.

Soon enough, a brilliant light fills their vision, forcing them to squint while the light spirals into a black and white image.

Four strange looking people were walking-no, rather skipping arm in arm down a brick tiled road, approaching a citadel of towering green spires that glistened while they rakes the sky above. The first of the group seemed normal enough, she was a little girl with long pigtails and a checkered dress, skipping in ruby slippers that also gifted a dash of color to the picture. But to her right, things got stranger. A man made entirely of rusted metal and bolts bounced and hopped alongside the girl, smiling a metallic grin as to her left, things got strange once again. Since there was now a whole lion standing there, hopping and bouncing on his hind legs, lightly shuddering with each step as a worried smile creaked across his face. As on his right, there was a whole scarecrow, filled with hay and everything, skipping along side everyone with the brightest grin out of the bunch, but no matter what, it seemed everyone was singing the same thing as they skipped.

“We’re off to see The Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz!”

But as the dream progressed, soon enough the group stood before two giant double doors, each one intricate in its designs, showing off an explosive array of magic and status before they strode through, only to receive “I AM OZ!” rattling everything around them, vibrating every which way as the wizard continued to bellow in the echoing room.

“The great and powerful! WHO, ARE YOU!” He bellowed, asking over and over “Who, are you!” Yuu listened as the wizard thundered, but all they could think was, If you stopped asking for a second they would tell you, but for Yuu, they couldn’t focus on this for long, as second after second, a low sound increased around them getting louder and louder, until a massive

“Nyaaaaargh” woke them up, groaning awake, the prefect once more blinked the sleep from their yes as they found the culprit of the roar right there on their stomach. Sleep talking again

Chuckling at their partner, Yuu petted the flaming cat as he purred on their stomach, “heh, The only thing great and powerful is that roar of yours” they smirked, running their fingers through Grim’s soft fur.

“prrrr…Nragh! How’s that?! The great and mighty grim Showed that tyrant Riddle who’s boss!~” Grim purred

“Oh, did you now?” said an off sounding stern voice, only to be instantly followed up by a cracking “OfF wItH yOuR hEad!” jolting grim awake with a large yelp as he scrambled to his paws, whirling his head from side to side

“Ffnaah?! Get this collar off m-wait, what?” Grim’s surprise lessened as he touched around his neck, there was no collar to be seen, but what was there was a bunch of laughing from the other red head they knew, Ace Trappola

“Pfft, Ace, that was not funny, you scared Grim half to death” Deuce snickered

“Ahahahaha, come on don’t lie Deuce, you laughed too, just look at his face hehehe” he laughed, clutching his robbed stomach, peering through the blinds of their hair, Yuu began to think, those robes, I saw those before Yuu thought, memories of a dark room, coffins and a lot of blue fire bubbled up to the surface.Raising their hair covered face up at the two suits, Yuu asked

“morning, what’re the robes for?” they yawned, slicking back one of their blinds of hair to at least see them.Now with one working eye, she took in the clothes they wore, a large intricate black and purple robe with gold designs glittered about them, and not to mention Ace had way too much eyeliner on.

Ace paused and lit back up as he answered the prefect

“Oh right, the headmaster didn’t tell you earlier huh?” Yuu shook their head from side to side as Grim grumbled up to his feet growling at the suits

“Hey! Apologize for waking me up like that!” the heart suit ignored the black cat and continued on, earning even more angry sounds from the monster

“Well, there’s an emergency ceremony happening soon, something about late arrivals or something.” Ace droned rubbing his hooded neck, “geez, Dorm head didn’t have to wake us up so early though” he groaned

“I agree, but you know how he is, oh, right, the headmaster also gave us these for you” Deuce said, in his hand he gave the two a large box, peering into the the package, just like the two suits, Yuu found a pair of matching robes for them, and a small cloak for grim.

“Alright, we’ll be on our way, give us a second to change” Yuu said

In the ceremony room~

A room doused in colors of purple and black stands a group of cloaked in the same colors, as ribbons and beads hang over head while coffins and black gates surround the group within already. Some look at attention, while others look as if they would rather be anywhere else but here. And while they stood, coffins floated around them, hovering in the air as they waited to open. And for the latter, Leona, the dorm leader of Savanaclaw was a prime example, standing upon a circle of runes, arms crossed with a bowed head. Lightly snoring before breathy yawn rapidly turned into a sharp grunt, “Ngh” as Ruggie, his vice dorm head jerked him awake, sighing at his friend.

“Oi, wake up Leona, you can sleep later. If anyone has an excuse to sleep it’s Rosehearts over there” Ruggie nagged to a now groaning Leona.

“tsk” riddle clicked, “I can assure you I have more than enough energy to attend a ceremony” Riddle stated pointedly, it had only been a few days after his overblot, but still, he wasn’t going to sit in bed while new dorm members could potentially be coming, he had to lead by example.

“Shishishi, well if you say so, but don’t start crying if it gets too hard” the hyena teased.

“tsk, what was that?: Riddle seethed, his silver eyes leered over to the hyena as he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder,

“Riddle, its fine, please calm down” Trey whispered to hear a sigh escape the dorm head’s mouth before his eyes returned to the coffins.

All the while, Leona muttered holding his head, while his green eyes lazily blinked open, “Do we really have to be here? It’s just a handful of students after all” the lion groaned

“Ozlandia’s standards for time are very different Mr. Kingscholar, for what is late for us, they view themselves as on time, and their students deserve the full Night raven college experience, for I am gracious” Crowley hummed

.yawn “Then they can come on time then, mmm, save us the trouble”

“Speaking of being on time, has anyone see Mr. Draconia around?” Crowley pondered

Each Dorm leader looked around the room for moment and then realized, once again, they had forgotten the third year,

“Hmph, it seems we have forgotten Malleus again.” Riddle spoke

“Oh, what a tragedy, it is quite unfortunate I must say” Azul bemoaned to a wave of eye-rolls at his tone. But soon enough a rush of thumping feet echoed in the room, as Yuu, Grim, Ace, and Deuce had finally arrived.

“Ah Prefect, welcome to the ceremoney, I apologize for not giving you an earlier warning, but, seeing as now we have everyone gathered, It is time to begin” When Crowley said that, the coffins around the students began to fall to the ground, stomping to an echoing thump as clicks and creaks sounded from the boxes.

And from the middle coffin, it’s door creaked open as it showed a boy with brown skin resting atop a coffin of grey roses. His hood’s shadow covered most of his face but soon enough, a pair of brilliant gold eyes peered from the darkness as the future student slowly raised himself from the box, grunting as he pried himself up, cracking his neck, he took down his hood to reveal a nappy black-silver fro, parted on it’s sides by two sharp ears. Much in resemblance to Malleus and Lillia from Diasomnia. And now standing on solid ground, the only thing most of the dorm leaders thought of was,

He’s wearing the robes wrong. By this they mean that the boy didn’t even close the cloak above, like it was just some regular jacket. And most upset of all was Vil Schoenheight, the dorm leader of Pomefiore glared daggers at the boy. His lavender eyes seemed to look angered and shocked at how he wore his formal robes. He would definitely have a word with this boy soon.And to his glare, all the dorm head got was a playful grin. The dorm head began thinking if the boy was mocking him, did he wear it like that on purpose, inconceivable. And for the majority of the leaders no one really piped up but Ridddle, always quick to preserve the rules spoke up first.

“You, fix your robes, if you are going to be in this ceremony, you should wear your clothes properly!” he commanded, silently hoping this would not be one of his dorm students. But cutting through that, the boy have his answer, resting his hand on his waist, the boy chuckled

“Pfft, nah I’m not going to change” he stated, shrugging his shoulders

“Tsk, excuse me?!” riddle edged out.

“Said I wasn’t gonna do it, do I need to crouch for you to hear me or something?” he teased, Riddle’s hands clenched into fists as he could already feel his anger rising, meanwhile, the younger teen still gave him a playful grin, as he motioned the short dorm leader to come at him, his lips pointing into corners as he watched the dorm leader rise in anger.

“did, you just call me short?!” Riddle seethed

Though before the back and forth could continue, each of the other tombs began creaking alongside each other. The first of the 6 remaining to open revealed a baby faced boy with green skin, and curly raven black locks that broke through his hood. He gazed around at everyone and everything in the room with many oohs and aahs while he stood besides the taller boy, offering a wave as the others soon followed behind.

After him, a boy who’s arms and legs clinked and clanked stiffly walked free of his tomb, as his metallic appendages glistened in the room as he stood besides his fellow students. And next up was a boy with straw coming out of his robes? And after him, a student with pronounced lion ears and tail soon followed. But when the boy went to step out of his coffin, he shuddered and shook relentlessly, he scampered forward only to instantly move back from the group, holding up his tail as he tried and failed to glare at the students besides him. And for Leona, he looked dumbfounded, groaning in annoyance at the sorry state of the lion in front of him. What kind of lion was that, he looked like a herbivore just by looks, not to mention scent.

And second to last, there was a big hufff as soon, a gruff sounding boy kicked open his coffin door and strides towards to group, his body was barrel chested and even through the sleeves he had massive arms bulging from the darkness as Peach fuzz raked across his jaw.

Crowley saw each of the teens clump together as he gave a brief ahem to continue the ceremony.

“ahem, welcome to Night raven academy, I am Headmaster Crowley, I am sorry but it seems you have all came late into the school year, but believe me we will be sure to catch you up as soon as possible. mhm, we are truly grascious, but for now let’s get you all sorted.”

The headmaster walked towards the mirror, whispering into the glass as word after word the mirror filled with green energy, illuminating the area in its hue as a detailed face or mask coalesced from the magic.

“The mirror of darkness guides you, please step forward and give me your name” The mirror called. The brown boy from earlier stepped forward as said

“My name’s Zoroaster Ozma” he said, resting a hand against his chest, but as he listened to the mirror, in the background Grim groaned under his breath about how boring this was. But one word seemed to change the whole air of the room.

“Your soul’s shape is...Ramshackle��

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likeawildthing · 4 years

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in full transparency, last night i asked for you all to share the things you’re missing and grieving. I thought I could hold a place on this blog for the collective grief we are all feeling, even for one ask session. but it became too much. everyone is properly upset and I apparently don’t have capacity right now to offer words of support to all. And I don’t necessarily think that I need to. It’s okay that this sucks. There is a moment of collective grief we’re all feeling, we are all missing different things. It’s okay not to compare your loss to someone else’s. A loss felt by you is still a loss. We’re all coping, yeah? but i did read all of your responses, and I’m putting them under the cut if anyone wants to read. I hope you do give it a read because it does affirm that we aren’t alone.

love you all <3 <3 <3

anonymous: My bf broke up with me cause he couldn’t handle the distance due to corona... now I grieve what we could’ve been. I miss him so much.

anonymous: grieving the loss of my senior year of college, my cancelled thesis, my graduation, my job, and my application to grad school which is postponed indefinitely while I work out the requirements. Would love suggestions on how to fill the void

anonymous: i'm grieving the loss of my racing season. i didn't think it was as devastating as it would be but losing all the work that my team put in for years to get where we are today and losing the chance to prove ourselves at nationals.... has been just that... devastating. i can say though that this quarantine has brought the team close together and i am finding myself. thank god i have the ability to but i am looking at myself as a person instead of just a student, athlete, etc. and figuring out myself in the process. whether that means hobbies, what to do with my future, or just what fulfills me, i'm learning a lot of things about myself. also the weather was gorgeous out today and i was able to get a walk with my dad in after my workout. beautiful!!! also made banana bread and have a zoom call with my teammates for sunday breakfast tomorrow. (GOOD VIBES!!!)

anonymous: Due to quarantine I can’t see my significant other for an indeterminate amount of time since we’re long distance and I’m an at-risk person. We’re trying to fill the distance with FaceTime calls but it’s still really hard, mostly because we’re just stuck and don’t know for how long :(

anonymous: I used to volunteer at an op shop every sunday with two of my favourite people. The customers sucked, but we played disney and had a blast and would sometimes do dinner or games after it. I miss it so much. To make up for it, we send regular pictures of our pets, do video calls on sundays and play an online pictionary type game to laugh at each other's terrible drawing skills :')

anonymous: In Germany we are allowed to see one other person at a time. I miss meeting more than one friend. As an autistic girl, communication can be hard and it's easier when you are with three people, cause you can just let them talk and no one focuses on you the entire time. You can just listen and not talk for a bit.

anonymous: I'm a costume designer and after a few years of assisting I finally finally got hired as the lead designer for Matilda. Which of course then got cancelled, and may be pulled from the season completly if we can't reopen by June. So I have all of these fabric samples and sketches that hurt my heart to look at but that I can't bear or risk throwing out.

@empiresprincess I’m grieving making music, running a musical, being with young weird enthusiastic youths, and my health. Also seeing my mom or a few my more beloved friends. I’m snuggling my dog, watching my fav youtuber, rewatching comforting media, trying to take care of myself and to let others know when I really need help. Oh and Im working on not judging myself too harshly.

anonymous: i was just finishing my second quarter at ucla when everything got shut down, and like.. it kinda sucks. i busted ass to get accepted to my dream school, pulled all nighter after all nighter at community college and finally transferred to ucla. i was JUST starting to feel like i had a place there. winter quarter was when i made some really good professor friends, started to get into the swing of things, adn that was when i realized i genuinely WANTED to go to grad school in the uk and get a phd and one day teach. then overnight im back home struggling w online classes and it just feels like im back to square one? they haven't cut our tuition costs either, and i feel like im paying so much for a whole experience, which now is just zoom university. ;~; i know its not the end of the world, but its sad and i miss my roommates. still, i guess it could be worse. i feel bad for the seniors who are ending their ucla journey with this. also my boyfriend and i have been doing long distance for nearly a year, and our one-year anniversary is coming up in a few days. i really thought we'd at least be able to spend that together, but he's an international student and he had to go back to india bc of covid. ;~; i miss him a lot and im terrified that the increased distance/time difference will cause us to just fizzle out. its not like we don't love each other a lot, but such limited contact (he can't ft bc his dad doesn't know about us, and so we only call like 3 times a week for 10 mins) makes it hard.. i haven't seen him in almost three months now, and it's just sad, even though i know its not either of us's fault. anywho!! this got really long; sorry about that!! in the grand scheme of things this isn't that bad though, so i'm trying to grieve the losses (and the loss of being back home, oof!) while still keeping an eye out for some of the good things to come. take care linds i hope you're safe and doing better

anonymous: On one level I am literally grieving the loss of a family member to the virus, but on another I am grieving the loss of my usual life (I had to move back in with my parents temporarily after being on my own for 4 years) and my student (our governor just announced that schools are closed for the rest of the year and I feel like I never ever got to say good bye). I've been filling the void by writing fanfic, but even that has been hard as I have no privacy anymore. I keep getting interrupted.

#grief #covid #good vibes 2k20

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