#fic: anachronism

[tranakin-skywalker]

Oooo I adore the anachronism fic idea!!

Thanks!

Time travel fics are my weakness, but most of them seem to involve either [insert OT character, usually Luke] going back to the prequal era, or Anakin/Obi-Wan's consciousness getting dumped into their younger body. Which I do love, don't get me wrong, but I see it so often and I wanted something different.

Originally the idea was just to have RotS Anakin pop up sometime after Empire and realize what a shitshow everything is, but then I had to wonder "where's ESB Vader in all of this?" Having them swap timelines made the most sense to me, but then Vader kinda stole the plot. Just the sheer absurdity of him getting plopped in the middle of RotS took me over. He's decided he's going to curb-stomp Sidious into oblivious but a gaggle of magic children decided that he's their dad now and that's just something he has to deal with.

Also he definitely kidnaps Ahsoka at some point and explains absolutely nothing to her. He can't escape his Anakin-ness though so she does eventually figure it out.

#fic: anachronism

[anachronic-cobra]

Love that while online fandom in general is having a weird meltdown about the morality of enjoying anything darker than sanitized fluff in fiction, the Danny Phantom fandom is still sitting in the corner 16 years after the show ended with a blankie and cocoa and their 10,000th deep-fanon supertorture cannibalism vivisection psychological horror fic

#from the desk of anachron #danny phantom #my favorite fandom honestly those are some good fics too

[shih-coulda-had-it]

“Of course it is! It’s us, it’s the sky, it’s flying!” Torino let go of her to spread his arms wide as if embracing the sky. “We were born to do this, Shimura!”

my beloved @thisauthorisscreaming is updating bangers for Anachronism

(keep reading is just this picture again, but with them in their new masks + a picture with no frills)

#bnha #nanahiko #shimura nana #gran torino #torino sorahiko #anachronism fic #thisauthorisscreaming #much like nana i too get overwhelmed at torino expressing uninhibited joy of living

[ltbarnes]

Anachronism masterlist

Or the placing of persons, events, objects, or customs in times to which they do not belong

Last update: February 13th 2023 COMPLETED (with occasional additions)

Summary: Sprained ankles, snowstorms, blood-thirsty wolves and feral super soldiers. What was supposed to be a peaceful walk in the woods surrounding the cabin you're staying in with your best friend Steve quickly turns devastating, forcing your path to cross with a mysterious and burly man who can't seem to grasp social cues and the concept of privacy. His past is a puzzle that can't seem to be solved and your feelings for the sweet and giant man quickly develop from friendly gratitude to something neither of you can't quite grasp.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader, Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Warnings: Bigfoot!Bucky, 6'6" Bucky (he's massive. so beefy), manhandling, technically kidnapping but it's all good, reader almost gets hypothermia, Smut (18+), mild violence

A/N: I present to you beefy!Bucky that is also technically a hot Yeti. Feral vibes only and also obsessed with his girl. So ridiculously self-indulgent but any and all suggestions, thoughts and wishes are so, so welcome since I’m still writing the rest of the series.

Main Masterlist

Chapters

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Valentine’s Day

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers angst #marvel Christmas fic #bucky barnes fluff #beefy!bucky #anachronism

[obstinatecondolement]

Kinda funny that I went to much more extraordinary lengths re: historical accuracy today by trying to figure out if people said "lemme smash" "get boned down" and "girlfriend experience" in 2000 for a Ghosts fic I'm writing than I ever did fact checking things for OFMD fic.

#that said a) david jenkins was not aiming for historical accuracy and I think intentional anachronism is a very valid approach for ofmd fic #and b) I did do that deep dive on historical dildos that unearthed some very cursed stuff regarding stale breadsticks that one time #but I spoke to a linguist friend who works for The Dictionary professionally for advice about how to figure this out lol #but I mean tbf a lot more people who can remember y2k are likely to read my fic than people who remember 1717 #(with apologies to any ghosts from the early 18th century in my readership) #ghosts cbs #trevor lefkowitz #h-money

[epersonae]

Truth or dare! 🔪🧩🪲

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

ngl I am very low research for my fics, back in the TAZ days the most it ever was is looking at tazscripts for specific lines from the show or looking up D&D spells for the characters to use. and ofc David Jenkins School of Historical Accuracy - but I will say that I did do a bit of a deep dive when I was working on chapter two of Hungry for love, ready to drown to figure out what books Stede might have looted, and took way too long figuring out when the Jacquard loom was invented. I think there's a balancing point of having an understanding of what's plausible historically in order to know when to play with it, and writing that fic was a fun place to play with it.

actually, no, wait, speaking of Hungry for love, ready to drown: that is the fic that prompted @emi--rose's Stabifesto, which was merely my attempt to answer the question: how much would Ed be bleeding after getting stabbed? ended up being a waaaaay deeper dive into the subject than I had intended, and I ended up using like three details.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

minimum bar of writing quality, I also have a minimum bar of characterization which is a "know it if I see it" thing (and occasionally if the writing is good enough I'll forgive it not quite being in-character), in particular there's sort of a constellation of things with Ed and Stede specifically that if I see it I'm like oh you don't get these guys. And like, write what you want forever, but also I'm not going to read it. honestly, anything with Izzy alive post-canon.

and then there's this weird, I don't know how to describe it, with canon-era fic, but it's related to my thoughts about use of history, and knowing the rules you're breaking, and sometimes the wrong anachronism will throw me out of the story so badly that I can't keep reading. (there's an absolutely gorgeous fic that I know a lot of people love, but it reads to me like it's set very clearly and solidly in the late 1800s or early 1900s, and I kept getting thrown by the details because they're so lovely rendered, it's a beautiful world that is entirely wrong. if it had been written as an AU it probably wouldn't have bothered me so much!)

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

I'm actually going to skip this, the thing I was working on last is in a spot where I don't want to post anything to tumblr 😅 (but who knows, maybe I'll come back and reblog this with an addition)

#I have a whole train of thought about “realistic” vs “naturalistic” in canon-era fic (and the show itself) #and the uses of anachronism #which the show does so well and pretty thoughtfully for the most part #(there is a sub-rant about s2 costuming in there but alas) #which I think is hard to do well in fic and it's totally a crap shoot as to whether something bugs me too much to read #ask games #my writing #my fic

[youwillfindilluminating]

This has maybe been done before, but I would love to see secretly-a-country-music-fan Eddie. Wayne clearly has a Southern accent and I’m sure he has some old records he used to play (still does, sometimes) and it totally reminds Eddie of his childhood and he just loves it, alright? 🥺💖

Steve finds out - maybe he comes over early and sees Eddie doing the dishes and dancing to Wagon Wheel or something. 😂

Steve wants to poke fun at him a bit, but then he learns the story behind it and is actually endeared.

#steddie #eddie munson #wayne munson #this is inspired by my very selective country playlist on spotify #ignore the wagon wheel anachronism #steddie prompts #if there are similar fics out there please send me the link! #Appalachian Eddie

[porphyriosao3]

OK, my madness is showing, but that's just what it is. Recently read a fic in which Thorin takes a bath in Bag End, and he is happy to encounter the hot water available but considers it totally unremarkable. The copper pipes are commented on. Absolutely no shade to the author - fic is excellent and well written and OCD fans are not their problem - but that scenario is a) wildly anachronistic and b) would put anyone from the respective tech levels of hobbits (or even dwarves) well into "how the fuck??" territory.

One of the reasons taking a bath was such a Big Deal in the old days was that to carry the 20 or so buckets of water from a possibly distant water source, HEAT all that water, and then have a vessel big enough to serve as a wash tub was beyond a pain in the ass. The resources to do all this were also uncommon. If you didn't have servants to do it all, even more so.

Pipes are hard to make. Like, very hard. Likewise to fit and solder. It took us centuries of careful (and sometimes crazy) experimentation to figure out how to make them and keep them even sort of working. Now, I'll give the dwarves metal extrusion tech because sure why not, but what causes the pressure in the pipes? Is it gravity? If so, who's in charge of filling the giant ass (incredibly heavy) tank on top of the smial, and what keeps it from coming through the roof one morning for some Second Breakfast? How does the water get heated? So many questions...

#fics #fanfics #anachronism #insanity of porphyrios

[lydias--stiles]

#6 for the kisses prompt makes me think of engagement juke 😭

6. Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift (princess x guard au)

*~*~* Solaria, 1845 *~*~*

Princess Julianna Molina of Solaria has never left the island. She spent most of her time inside the gates of the castle though rarely found herself promenading in the city to visit lords, ladies, ambassadors, or the orphanage. But beyond were strange waters and unknown worlds.

Her father said the sea creatures and pirates didn't like princesses, but still: at night, she wondered what else was out there.

Her lady-in-waiting, Kayla, came from the mainland Los Dédalo. She rarely spoke of her time there. All she knew of Kayla was the tragic history of her deceased father, the Marquess Caro, which led her to live with the court of Molina.

"It's colder," she once uttered, untangling Julianna's curls, "and the woods extend for miles and miles. They use brown brick instead of pale stucco for their houses." A gentle, foreign smile lifted on her thin lips. "And there's a lot of dancing."

A week after Kayla's quiet words, her father beckoned her to his study for news. A new batch of guards would commence on their grounds, of which one would become her personal guard.

Julianna frowned. "I have my chaperones and Lady-In-Waiting. I don't need more protection, father."

King Raymond shook his head. "You are seventeen years of age. Soon, you'll start attending balls and getting called on by nobility. I won't have your reputation be ruined because I was lenient with your protection."

The words made him perk up. "Attending balls? On the mainland?"

"Yes." She gasped. "But do not get your hopes up. The mainland has nothing on Solaria, the monarchy you'll rule over one day." A rueful smile twisted on his mouth. "Though I'm sorry your mother isn't here to guide you."

Julie placed her hand on her necklace, on heirloom from her mother, and tilted her head to the ceiling. "She's here, though. Don't worry."

Ray placed a kiss on her forehead and told her to go. Her large purple skirt ruffled around her as she went.

Twelve guards descended onto the island by ship the next day. Guard Lukas Patterson was assigned to her. He had a strong built, a kind smile, and no issue speaking to her whenever she allowed it. At first, it unnerved her to find a guard standing outside her quarters at all times, but soon he became part of the routine. Wake up, get washed and dressed, and greeted Lukas as she went to break her fast.

She was walking around the garden with her Lady-In-Waiting Kayla and Viscountess Flynn, when she peeked over her shoulder at Lukas shadowing them a couple feet back. Before she realised what she was doing, a question sprung from her tongue.

"May I ask how old you are, Guard?"

His brows raised in surprise. From her periphery, she felt the confusion of her friends. "Eighteen, Princess," he replied.

"Isn't that young to be a guard?"

"We start training at thirteen."

A curious smile lifted on her lips. Thirteen? At thirteen, she was learning Latin, Italian and Greek, was called a genius on the pianoforte by her governess, and had her hair trimmed for the first time in her life. She couldn't imagine a life so different from hers.

The conversation should end there, but instead she continued, her interest piqued. "Is it hard? Training?" She nodded at the sword in its sheath draped around his hips.

"Julie," Flynn whispered, gently reaching for her elbow. "Perhaps we should walk another lap."

The words had a sheen of warning. It wasn't a request. Flynn was perhaps the only woman of nobility that didn't oblige to every of Julianna's whims. The princess nodded and turned away from the guard.

Her curiosity was often chastised as a child. Princesses didn't need to know things that didn't concern them. Professors taught her politics, history and geography, but the moment she begged for personal anecdotes or an odd detail, the books slammed shut. At least she had her pianoforte. Then, she could escape into her own imagination and create the most beautiful compositions.

Later that evening, she sat alone in the grande library, curled into a velvet couch while reading with candlelight. But she couldn't focus. Outside the mahogany doors, Lukas stood still, alert and waiting for her to make a move.

Would it be improper to invite him inside? Nothing would happen. Julie just wanted to talk, listen to his years of training.

And so, she did.

Tiptoeing to the door, she craned her neck around the corner and caught Lukas' eye. He straightened up. "Is everything okay, Princess?"

"Yes," she said. A hesitant pause. She never broke the rules. "Would you... like to come inside, Guard Lukas? I still want to hear the story about your training."

His expression fell into an incredulous gawk, not at all like the cool gaze he usually sported. She withheld a giggle. Her guard was sort of cute. "Uh... I- I'm not sure if-"

"You won't get in trouble," she rushed. "I asked you, didn't I?"

Slowly, he nodded, lightly bowed his head, and entered the library. He sat down in the chair opposite of her, a little awkward, though seemingly in awe by the grandeur of the space and the buttery texture of the furniture. Her long hair was down and she wasn't wearing her gloves, but somehow, she didn't feel exposed.

"So, tell me about your training."

And so it began. Luke wasn't just her guard, but a confidante. He told her about his life before the Molina court. That he used to live in the uppermost province of Los Dédalo and joined the military to take care of his parents. That he made his best friends there, Reginald and Alexander, but that he called them Reggie and Alex, and they called him Luke.

Luke. It wasn't at all like the names people chose in Solaria. But she liked it. Short and sweet and it rolled off her tongue in a pleasant manner.

Meanwhile, balls had commenced across the islands and mainland. Julianna wore dresses dripping in gold and gemstones, her hair braided with pearls, silk gloves and glass, sunkissed skin. She was the vision of perfection; a wonderful dance partner, too.

Except much to her disappointment, she didn't match with any suitor. They called on her the days after a ball, of course, but none have her an easy feeling. There was no comfortable rapport.

All the while, Luke stood in the corners, the shadows, watching her.

One evening, Julie paced along the glass-stained windows of the sunroom in agitation, venting about the lack of ardent men on the dance floor. Luke listened while leaning against the wall, slight amusement on his face.

"I'll be frank: do you even like these balls?"

"I like the dancing," she conceded. "But nothing else. Not that my opinion matters." Julie sighed and plopped down in a rattan chair. "I know these are... quite luxurious problems, but it's still my life. And I want a love match, as silly as that might sound."

With a frown, he moved towards her. "It's not silly, Princess. I dream of a match like that, too."

That surprised her. If she was honest, she didn't think guards had dreams. Their lives were pre-determined, just like hers, unless they wanted to flee and be marked as a treasonous fool. "Really?"

The guard nodded, his eyes flitting from her to the lush gardens behind the glass. She wished to step closer, place her hand on his arm and ask what that fond look meant, but it was a risk too great to take. It was daylight still. A passing servant wouldn't be pleased seeing their easy relationship, and would no doubt gossip.

Pressing her hand in her side, she mustered a comment. "Do you want me to set you up with one of the kitchen maids?" she giggled. "Chef Gisela is a catch!"

Luke rolled his eyes. "No thank you, Princess."

"Please," she found herself saying, "call me Julie."

He paused. "J- are you sure?"

No, she wasn't sure. Her proposal screamed impropriety. Them talking in the sunroom like this, with him unguarded and smiling, shouldn't even happen in this realm of existence. But Julie never backtracked. With a raised chin, she uttered: "Yes"

Luke's green eyes shimmered in the golden light at her conviction. "Okay. Then Julie, please don't set me up with Chef Gisela." A smirk danced on his handsome face. "I don't really have a thing for redheads."

That night, she dreamt of Luke. Of that smile he sent her, of his eyes and kind voice, of his bold statement. What did it mean? She hadn't really thought about what she had a thing for. A man that connected with her on a soul-deep level, sure, but what else? Did she imagine a blonde or brunette by her side? Pale or dark skin? One with a culture similar to her own, or wildly different? She was woefully unprepared.

Tossing and turning, she came to the huffed conclusion that she had to speak to Luke further about 'having a thing'.

"You're not seriously asking me this!" he squeaked the next day. His hair was unkept, brown strands standing in all directions and curling at the nape of his neck. Something she should chastise, but it looked rather nice on him.

"I am," she stiffly replied. They were in the garden, away from the preening eyes of the court, and she busied herself picking flowers and placing them in a basket, in fear he'd see her plum blush and shy eyes if she faced him. "You don't have to indulge me, but I'd be grateful if you did."

He puffed. "It doesn't sound like I have a choice."

"You do." Julie straightened up and dared to lock eyes. Her hands folded together in front of her floral dress. "I'm asking this as a friend, Luke, not as a princess."

The guard sighed, looked over his shoulder to check they were indeed not being eavesdropped on, and uttered: "Okay... at these balls you attend, what catches your eye?"

"About people's countenance?"

"Sure."

"Well..." A zinnia twirled between her fingers, a pensive expression dancing on her face. "I like men that are taller than me."

"That's not hard," he jested. She stuck her tongue out.

She continued: "And... I like when they appear strong. And I suppose that I like darker features, like dark hair." As tangled as her thoughts were last night, as clear as day they were now. "Blonde looks so lifeless to me, for some reason."

Luke smirked. "Wasn't that Viscount Nick Dawson you spoke about a blonde?"

"Maybe."

"But there you go!" With a bounce in his step, he closed the distance between them and plucked the flower from her grip. Surprised, she looked up at his looming figure, her breath catching in her throat when he gently tucked the flower in her updo. "Now you know what you like. What your 'thing' is."

Her head tilted. "What's your thing? If it's not redheads?"

He smiled. She wondered if someone ever told him he had a perfect smile; the perfect ratio of lips and teeth and scrunch of the eyes. But then he dismissed her with a slight bow. "What I like is not important."

"It is! You said you wished for a love match!"

He took a step back. "We both know I'll be protecting Solaria until my retirement, whether as your guard, or at sea."

Right. His position as her guard wouldn't be forever. After she married, or went on her honeymoon, or the military needed reinforcements, or after her inauguration as queen — somewhere in that timeline, he would be gone. And no one would speak of him, as though a ghost, as guards weren't meant to be friends with.

Julie looked down, hoping to hide her sorrowful expression. "Right. You're right."

The following days were devoid of Luke. She didn't feel like talking to him. She never had to anticipate losing a friend before, and didn't know how to deal with it. And so, she spent her free time playing the pianoforte.

Her father noticed her mournful demeanour. "Don't fret, my Dahlia, more suitors will call on you when we host a ball."

Her fingers paused on the keys, a sharp sound piercing the quiet. A ball? The last one was a couple weeks ago, given the several engagements between nobility that had popped up left and right. Julie hadn't been there to celebrate, obviously, isolated on her island.

She frowned. "We're hosting one?"

He laughed. "Of course! And you'll be the diamond." His finger laid beneath her chin, his eyes boring into hers. "No one will compare to you."

"I don't think that matters, dad," she whispered, losing all decorum as hope sunk to her feet. "It's been months since the first ball, no one is interested. I'm not interested. I think I'll have to try again next season."

"At eighteen?" he stammered. "Your mother married me at sixteen."

"Lady Wilson married at twenty-one," she argued.

Father sighed. "Yes, and now she's across the world in a land with the coldest climate, away from her family. That is not a life I wish for you."

His voice was resolute. Don't fight, it meant. Without another word, she returned to the pianoforte, though her hands shook with frustration.

The night of the ball, Julie was a mess of nerves. The maids fluttered around her in the quarters, helping her into her purple gown and adding crystals in her hair. If her father's conviction she'd find a match at their ball, than he no doubt would chat up the mamas and papas with charming eligible sons. Didn't matter if Julie found them uninteresting. It was time for her to choose. To act like the princess she has trained for her entire life.

Kayla fanned her flushed face, concerned, to which Julie mustered a weak smile. "I'm just excited," she lied. "So excited."

The first dance had begun by the time Julie and Kayla padded down the luxe hallways to the ballroom. The double doors were closed, music and chatter and warm light bleeding through. God, she didn't want to go. She really didn't want to go.

"You can already go inside," she heard herself say.

Kayla appeared surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Enjoy yourself," she encouraged. "I just need a second to- to collect myself."

Her Lady-In-Waiting hesitated for a beat, eyeing the ballroom that lured her closer, before she sighed and nodded. "All right. If you're not inside in five minutes, I'll come and get you."

Finally, Kayla left. The servants opened the doors for her and she entered the ball. As they shut, with only servants that chatted amongst themselves, Julie had her privacy to take a breath.

"Princess."

Julie gasped. Twirling around, she found Luke standing in a dark alcove. Flitting her gaze to the servants, she ensured they paid no attention and picked up her skirt, rushing towards him.

He looked distinguished: a crisp white shirt and his gear polished for the party. Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes raked from his clothes to his imploring gaze. They hadn't spoken in weeks, but it felt like days, and yet, she had missed him.

Her conversation with Luke shot to the forefront of her mind. Her 'thing': that was what she should look for. A tall, strong man, with brown hair... and handsome features... and a sense of humour... and-

Oh. Her racing thoughts came to a standstill. Oh.

"You've asked me what my thing is," he whispered.

Julie blinked. That was why he called her? Glad the shadows hid her disappointment, she sought her voice. "I... yes."

"I just wanted to say that..." He took a deep breath. "It's girls with brown hair in pretty dresses."

Oh. "Luke..."

"I wanted to give you this." From his pocket, he revealed a strip of elegant white lace. At the ends, dried zinnias were sown on. Dainty and unassuming, but a fortune for a man like Luke. Tears welled in her eyes. Luke seemed flustered. "It's— I mean, I figured you could wear it as a bracelet, but—"

"I love it," she exhaled, "thank you. I—"

Surging up, she grabbed his cheeks and pressed a hard kiss on his mouth. He was frozen. Fear overtook her senses and she stepped back, about to exclaim okay, bye! when his hand gripped her wrist, mumbling a breathless wait and pulled her back in his chest. His lips locked back on hers. Relieved, her hands fluttered from his arms to his neck, settling there. His own touch rose up her back and stopped when his thumb grazed the skin of her shoulder blade.

Oh, no. Kayla.

Julie took a step back and found Luke chasing her, but she pushed him back into the dark. The servants would have his head if they saw.

"I need to go," she whispered in a flurry of excitement and nerves and elation. Her heart hammered in her throat. "I... I'll find you at the end of the ball."

Luke smiled. "Not if I find you first."

kiss prompts (closed!)

#i love anachronism so yeah julies dresses are 1840 to 1855 but luke has a late medieval style going on à la sean teale in rosaline (2022) #anyway #princess x guard my beloved !! #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fics #jatp fanfiction #i'm incorrigible

[roosterbox]

Me, an old, reading a fic set in the 80s that refers to a VHS tape having a “menu”: oh. oh honey no.

#lol #anachronism aside #I still absolutely adore this fic though #and I’m sure I’ve made similar assumptions #about past technology myself #so don’t sweat it kids

[afrenchaugurey]

Not me beginning another WIP again just to deal with the stress 🤷

Instead of sleeping or (at least) working on my endless WIP's list...

So ... apparently I needed to write about Theseus' backstory. Probably because I watched "the last letter from your lover" tonight and too many of my HC related to Theseus and Leta's story. (Not literally but enough to preventing me from sleeping)

#theseus scamander #world war 1 #ww1 #I know about the anachronism #but I don’t care #wizards aren't suppose to take part into ww1 #so he could join anytime #and it ransak Newt's timeline a bit less #fic: another shade of blue #fantasticbeasts #the last letter from your lover #fantastic beasts fanfiction

[awordwasthebeginning]

Moonacre Week 2023

Day 2: Strawberries and Mint

1523

When the sun shone on the red, red skin of the wild berries, their scent sweetened the air at the seam of the forest. Half-hidden beneath fern and moss, they gleamed like rubies on green brocade. The forest was dressed expensively; hundreds and thousands of them lined the edge of the woods at the far end of the valley, undisturbed by the animals who feared the traps, and the humans who feared each other.

Only the young human came here, the one who knew little about fear and all about strawberries. She came with the sun at noon, hair and cheeks and lips in varying shades of the berries’ red, and her dress as green as the leaves between which she knelt for her secret harvest. Only her eyes would not match the warm midday, cool and silver as they were.

She never did pick much, only a handful, and some more directly with her lips. Then, usually, she would hear her name called in the far distance; she would get up from her knees and brush off her skirt, and turn to the forest, a finger on her lips as if to ask for her secret to be kept. And she would run away, her quiet peals of laughter scattered in the grass between the strawberries.

The forest kept her secret as the meadow kept that of the boy who came at night. He came from the other side, from deep in the woods, and no sunlight ever led his way. His feet found the ground in silver moonlight as well as pitch-black darkness. He made no sound and was not seen, in his clothes of soft dark leather and linen, silver-metallic buckles fastened tight.

His fingers wandered through taller grass and fern until they found curly leaves and rubbed them, releasing the sweet, sharp scent into the night. One hand full, and not a stem more, was all he took, and sometimes a leaf found its way between his teeth, where the same sharp sweetness exploded on his tongue. If the moon then found his eyes, they shone in a strange honey-brown colour, as if to defy the cool, silvery darkness all around him.

He never found the sweet strawberries in the dark, and she never found the sharp spearmint among the foliage, and eventually they grew up to fear the edge of the forest as all the other humans did. Wasn’t it odd, that the sun knew the moon, and the meadow knew the forest, and the strawberries knew the mint, but they should never know each other?

#moonacreweek2023 #fic: did you miss me? #awordwasthebeginning writes #ft. fragaria vesca and mentha spicata #(aka wild strawberry and spearmint because i don't tolerate botanical anachronisms in my fics :D) #loquor

[anachronic-cobra]

You know, Batfamily fics and art are great, but we as a society do not talk enough about Batman's son Jarro the alien starfish

#from the desk of anachron #batman #batfamily #he's batfamily too #I want to see fics where jarro is a sibling #he's a wayne too just put a little moustache on him and play dumb

[shih-coulda-had-it]

old dog (re)learning new tricks? @thisauthorisscreaming

“I’m shy around you sometimes. If you felt as much as I do towards you,” he muttered, “you’d have a hard time pulling this kind of shit, too.” And that was the bitch of it, he added mentally. Everything was on the line now: every move was life and death. Nana pulled her hand away—his stomach dropped—only to lace their fingers together in a more comfortable way. “You’re not going to scare me off by showing me you care about me, jet-head. Believe it or not,” she joked, “that’s the exact opposite of what will happen.”

#bnha #nanahiko #shimura nana #gran torino #torino sorahiko #anachronism fic #shih's art #thisauthorisscreaming #tearfully bidding op's spring break a farewell

[nishibai]

an u can tell from the state of my room that they let me out too soon

#nishi thinking.. #theres so many good fic titles in girl anachronism. ugh

[engenesis]

fuck it, the Nanahiko tag on ao3 ain't gonna update itself

#i'm gonna do it #no one's gonna stop me #i've suffered enough #i've been rereading the same fics over and over again #Anachronism i'm talking to you #mha #nanahiko #torino sorahiko #nana shimura