#sugary sweet is exactly what this fanfiction is!

[everthewip]

Prompt: 1. "It's not too late, let's go."

Fanfiction 

Fandom: Shadows of Doubt (video game)

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of death and murder

Notes: You don't need to have played or know anything about this game for this to (hopefully) be understandable. Also no, this is not edited or beta read.

Banner by @fictober-event

Wednesday, Jan. 4th 6:20AM

I wake to the apartment building shaking again. Entire damn city feels like it's going to collapse into the toxic water any day now. Don't really have time to care about that, though.

Breakfast is leftover lo mein and a can of Kola. I sip the bubbly drink, ignore the way its sugary sweetness irritates my teeth, and study the case board on my kitchen wall.

Omarr Jack. Slashed to death in a bloody mess two days ago. Different colored strings and pins link his picture to photographs of the crime scene, some to sticky notes with vague details. Black string leads to the time of death, between 9:00 and 10:00am. Yellow links to his workplace address, a scrap of paper with his hours written down, a list of colleagues to question later. Green is more personal, linking to a note about his girlfriend not being home during time of murder. Red focuses on the crime scene, a picture of the body, the bloodied carpet, the business card left behind with no traceable fingerprints and only a cryptic message: Didn't have what it takes.

There isn't much else to go on; the murderer covered their tracks too well.

One more sip of the Kola and I grimace, already feeling like my teeth are going to rot out any second. Wonder how much it'd cost to buy my own fresh water dispenser and keep it filled. Only ever seen them in the office buildings around here. Probably costs a fuckload of Crows and Social Credit to keep those full.

I set the can aside and reach up, fingers poised on the pin keeping poor Mr. Jack stabbed to the board. His expression is solemn, professional some might say. He stares out with a gaze as dead as he is now.

“Sorry buddy,” I mutter. “Don't think I can handle your case.”

But something keeps me from pulling the pin and clearing the board. Maybe it's the folders sitting in my filing cabinet, the ones that whisper in the night and keep me awake, the cases still unsolved. Maybe it's a bitterness at Starch, our megacorp president that replaced me and the rest of City 46's police force with their incompetent Enforcers. Maybe it's the notice taped to my fridge, reminding me that rent is well overdue and repossession is imminent.

I leave the picture pinned, the center of a chaotic web that may never get unwound.

7:04AM

“More coffee, detective?”

Blake stands with one hand on her hip, the other holding an old coffee pot full of fresh, steaming brew. The scent is mesmerizing, almost overshadowing the greasy aromas ever-present in the Phat Model Diner. Shitty name for a shitty place with shitty food. Only good thing about this shithole is Blake.

“Hope you're ready to take credit if my heart explodes.”

I push my empty mug closer to her, smiling a little as she chuckles and fills it about three-fourths full; just enough to still add creamer, exactly how I like it.

“Maybe I should stop servin' you, then.” She places a few extra sugar packets on the table, gives me a wink, and then steps away to offer coffee to the few other diners. There aren't many this morning, but even if this place was packed, Blake would still serve me first. Never asked her to, but she always does.

I lift my coffee, take the first blissful sip, and watch her drift along the row of booths. She's a big woman, Blake is. Broad and muscular from years working as a security guard for a gambling den in her old city. She can hardly move through the diner without bumping into tables, but when you're that imposing, who the fuck is gonna call you out on it? I'd watched her toss a man out the door with one arm once. She'd just started to wear glasses and the idiot thought, “Hey, Four Eyes” was a smart way to call her over to his table.

She's finished her rounds now and I'm quick to look down before she sees me staring.

There's a newspaper someone left on the table, so I scan over the front page.

Omarr Jack's face almost makes me choke on my coffee.

“Heard it was brutal.”

Blake's returned, squeezing herself between the booth and table across from me. I almost don't register what she's said, I'm too busy noticing her arms as she crosses them, rests them on the table.

“Yeah, it was.”

“You saw it then?” She leans forward, voice lowered. The table wobbles a bit, but she doesn't notice.

“Yep, investigated what I could.” I lift my drink to take another sip and shrug. “Think this is another case for the cold filing cabinet, though.”

Blake's frown deepens as she studies me, and I have to look away so I don't blush like an idiot. If anything, maybe she'd think the coffee is what warms my cheeks. This isn't even the time to be crushing over the hot butch waitress, not when a dead man's murder stares up at me from the damned paper.

“It's not too late, Rory,” Blake says, her voice softer than the steam rising from my coffee mug. I look up, lips parted, and try to find the right words to say.

But then my old police scanner is going off in my bag.

There's been another murder.

Before I realize it, I'm already getting my shit together to leave. Blake's eyes are on me and when I look up she's got this half-grin on her face that makes the breath catch in my throat.

“Let's go, detective,” she says. “Solve the case.”

She winks again.

I can only nod.

And then I'm through the diner door and out into the rainy morning of City 46.

#writeblr #fanfiction #shadows of doubt #fictober23 #1

[millennialgrandma]

August Wrap Up

I have officially been doing these monthly wrap up posts for a year now. How surreal is that?

This was sort of a wild month for me. I ended up taking the first two weeks of August off of work, with all these grand plans to catch up on hobbies and do home projects and read to my heart's content and write fic and dive back into astrology again and visit family and...and..and. What actually happened was that I went to Home Depot eight fucking days in a row and painted exactly two rooms of my house, in between doing a whole lot of nothing before I traveled to my hometown to celebrate another rotation around the sun.

Things I Wrote

Most of this month was spent wondering why both my desire to write and my muse decided to run off together. I did, however, manage to squeak out a silly little crackfic called bone broth (dramione, M, 1k) as a birthday present for @ambpersand. You can find other delightful little treats in the birthday collection here.

Things I Read

A whore is back to her old tricks - no books this month. I at least got back into my groove in terms of reading. And finally caught up on all the WIPs I'm following/have since been completed. I have a handful of other WIPs I have been eager to start, so I gave myself a strict rule about catching up on the others first.

Fiction:

Nonfiction:

Fanfiction:

Complete: (approx. 129.6k)

A Bloody Idiot by @eveningstruggle (dramione, E, 8.2k)

Home Again by @indreamsink (dramione, E, 7.2k)

Bad Kids by @sodamnradd (dramione, E, 18.3k)

Feint by @ambpersand (dramione, E, 5k)

Right Time, Wrong Place by @forgotten-traveler (dramione, E, 2.2k)

Bloody Knickers by @emilyinwonderland (dramione, E, 4.2k)

She Thinks by @mightbewriting (romione, E, 15.8k)

Group Read: Not In Our Stars by @biscuitsforpotter (theomione, M, 9.7k)

Medicine by RegulusBlacksSwimTeacher (dreomione, E, 4k)

Tension by @inadaze22 (dramione, E, 10.4k)

round figures by pankycranda (dramione, M, 2.3k)

Heavy Hung by @malfoysmugglemrs (dramione, E, 8.8k)

On the One Hand by @willhavetheirtrinkets (scorose, M, 2.1k)

Sugary Sweet by @sweetestsorrows (dramione, E, 3.8k)

In Search of a Husband by @sweetestsorrows (dramione, E, 3.7k)

Forbidden Fruit by @sweetestsorrows and @roseheira (dramione, E, 3.2k)

The Better To Love You With by @sweetestsorrows and @roseheira (dramione, E, 10k)

A Cat Declawed by @sweetestsorrows (dramione, E, 3.7k)

Lonely by @sweetestsorrows (dramione, E, 3.3k)

Cat Daddy by @holygnocchi and hellodarknessdarling (dramione, M, 3.7k)

WIPs: (approx. 158k)

Not What This Is by @whimsymanaged - Chapter 1 (dramione, E, 2.4k)

Intuition, Blue, & You by @smoke-and-plume - Chapter 1 (dramione, E, 5.3k)

Tainted by @catmintandthyme - Chapters 1 - 3 (dramione, E, 15.8k)

Change of Plan(t)s by @whimsymanaged - Chapter 1 (herbadbottom, E, 1k)

disparate by @starsin-motion - Chapter 1 (dramione, E, 10k)

Kingdom Come by @inadaze22 and @jaxx-in-a-box - Chapter 1 (dramione, E, 4.3k)

Let the Dark In by @senlinyuwrites - Chapters 17 - 21 (dramione, M, 28.7k)

Season Pass (To This Ass) by @mightbewriting (NOW COMPLETE) - Chapters 4 - 6 (dramiome, E, 7.5k)

Probably a Scam by @catmintandthyme - Chapters 13 - 14 (dramione, E, 6.5k)

Ten out of Ten by @morriganmercy (NOW COMPLETE) - Chapters 13 - 16 (dramione, E, 25.6k)

The Curse of 100 by @rosedevents - Chapter 15 (dramione, E, 2.8k)

In These Silent Days by @heyjude19-writing - Chapters 1 - 3 (dramione, E, 12.6k)

All Live To Die by @willhavetheirtrinkets - Chapters 1 - 13 (dramione, NR, 35.6k)

Things I'm Currently Reading (Heading into September)

Listen. I still need to read the last chapter of Love and Other Historical Accidents. I just don't want it to end, alright! I don't think I have anything else I'm working through at the moment. Maybe that means I'll pick a long fic off my TBR for September! Honestly, who's to say?

#august wrap up #wrangling the words #fics i've read #fics i'm reading #apparently i'm writing?

[artigas]

Hi!I 👋 I was so happy that you updated Striking the Match! I really liked the last chapter (especially because of THAT scene) but I was pretty confused by the ending. Could you maybe share a bit more about what happens in the last chapter?

Sure thing, thanks for reading and reaching out to me! NGL, I worry I lost some folks with that ending. From the start, I really wanted the story to have a bit of darkness to it. To some extent, that's probably due to the fact that I tend to find bittersweet endings the best of all -- in fact, I can't think of a single fanfiction I've ever written were I didn't at least plan to have it end with some real sadness. I actually have @twobrokenwyngs to thank for changing the ending of what became my most popular fanfiction from, like, terribly sad to moderately hopeful lmao

Let me just say this about the MM fic ending . . .

I wanted to honor the fact that, in canon, John is doing a terrible thing to unsuspecting people. He's motivated by love, but I don't think you have to think about that for very long before you'll become discomforted by his intentions. Why does he feel like he has a right to uproot Millie's life? Why does he so easily believe (and the show entirely conceit, it seems) that everyone would want to be younger, to go back, to live their past all over again? How exactly does he imagine things are going to go with Sarah, anyway? Is it kind to pull the rug from under her feet and reveal the truth of her parentage? Does she owe anything at all to the stranger who didn't play the role of her father, but simply contributed to her birth? What about the love she has for the man who presumably raised her, the man she believed to be her father, where does that go?

I think, in canon, John is a character who is willing to cross all sorts of boundaries because he didn't want to die alone and he mortally regretted living like that way. In StM, I tried to imply that John was exposing Hassan to the vampiric blood from pretty early on and, in my mind, that's his motivation. He sees someone who understands him in Hassan. He maybe even sees a way into having a family and he is, for the first time, unburdened by the shame that I imagined kept him in the clergy. He can have love now, he can have a life now, and the only obstacle is that Hassan doesn't see the full picture just yet, so why not give him some gentle pushing in the right direction?

in short . . . I wanted to just acknowledge that he's an asshole lmao like, i didn't want my fic to be sacchrine and sugary-sweet. i wanted to capture a little bit about that terrible man who forces his way into Riley's darkest insecurities and throws his fear of being a murderer in his face. The last chapter was meant to make that all more explicit. It's a betrayal of trust and consent, of course it is, but I'm hoping to write a rather short sequel that will grapple with the guilt and the wrong of that. And I also want it to be happier, in the end, because to be loved is to be changed and I want to write Hassan as a character who would change everything because that's how significant he is. And it will also have another steamy scene because, lbr, that's half the fun of this shit.

#asks #midnight mass #striking the match

[agerefandom]

Sugary Sweet

Fandom: Twilight

Characters: Jasper Hale/Alice Cullen, regressor!reader

Words: 1,700

Summary: A simple morning in the life of an age regressor who lives with Alice and Jasper, full of sugar and fun. Reader is gender-neutral and regresses to a baby age-range in this story!

Warnings: Food, pacifiers, a little temper tantrum, diapers, and changing. 

You wake up slowly, warm and cozy in the embrace of the blankets. The morning light is soft and hazy, a mobile circling above your head. Your eyes slowly begin to focus on the stars and rocket ships dangling above you.

A big yawn stretches your mouth, and you start to wake up properly, shifting in the crib. The bars stretch up around you, and you reach an arm up to the bars, wrapping fingers around its length and rattling them a little.

It’s enough sound that Alice is at your door in a moment, sweeping into the nursery with a wide smile.

“My baby is awake!” she coos, making her way to the crib and sliding down the bars so that she can reach in and smooth back your hair. “How did you sleep, darling?”

You catch Alice’s wrist and bring her fingers to your mouth, biting down on the knuckles lightly. Her skin is cold and almost sweet-tasting. She laughs at you and withdraws her fingers, picking up your paci and slipping it into your mouth. It fell out in the night, but the paci clip attached to your onesie makes sure it never goes far. “There you go, much better.” She boops your nose and then lifts you up, effortless despite her slight frame. Vampires are the best, you’ve watched Alice pick up huge rocks for fun but it somehow always makes you feel surprised when she lifts you. Like you’ve suddenly become weightless and you could just float away if Alice wasn’t holding on.

“Amabbaba,” you babble around your paci, snuggling against Alice’s chest as she brings you across the nursery to the changing table.

“Oh, really?” she replies conversationally, trying to set you on the table. You cling to her, unwilling to let go of the embrace. “Silly little one, you need a change!” Alice says, nuzzling her nose against yours. “Come on, only a second. And then we can go see Jasper for your breakfast!”

“’asper!” you gasp. He’s been gone for a few days with the other Cullens, and you missed him a lot. This time when Alice puts you on the table, you reluctantly release her shirt from your grasp. She slips a rattle into one of your hands, and you hold it up above you, enjoying the shh-shh sound of the beads inside. You experiment with tilting it this way and that, listening to the different sounds it makes, and hardly noticing Alice changing your diaper.

“There we go!” She pats your hip, pressing into the soft diaper that holds you safe and padded. You wiggle under her touch, giggling as the diaper crinkles under your bottom. There’s nothing else like that sound, sending you straight into your safe place where there’s only hugs and stuffies and naptime. “Up we go!” Alice scoops you up again, settling you on her hip. You wrap your legs around her waist, resting your head on her shoulder as she carries you downstairs. She bounces you lightly on the stairs, a fun little movement that keeps you aware of her effortless embrace and the padding of the diaper. You giggle again, feeling safe and weightless.

“’asper!!” you shout when you reach the ground floor, unwrapping your legs so that you can put your feet on the ground. Alice lets you stand and you start to run towards the kitchen, off-kilter and clumsy but too excited to wait for Alice to help you.

“Sweetheart!” Jasper’s voice calls back, and he’s running towards you a second later, sweeping you up into his arms and spinning you around in a wide arc, the kitchen wide enough to allow the movement. You come to rest in his arms, and he grins at you with that open smile that you’ve only started to see. Jasper used to be really careful around you, but once you got used to each other and Alice built your nursery, he started to get a lot cuddlier. You’re glad: Jasper gives really good hugs, even if Alice’s are the best. “How’s my baby this morning?”

“Hung’y!” Jasper makes the best food and the promise of breakfast is so very exciting.

“Well, that’s good because I’ve made a proper feast.” He carries you into the kitchen, and Alice follows behind. Sure enough, the table is laden with plates of fruit and whipped cream, a stack of waffles waiting to be dressed up with all the extras.

You squeal excitedly and squirm in Jasper’s hold, trying to get to the syrup. He laughs and keeps his grip on you, strong enough to foil your best efforts to escape. Alice and Jasper work together to get you into the high chair as you grab for the fruit on the table. Alice locks the little belt over your hips, keeping you in place, before they add the plastic tray in front of you.

“Here we go.” Jasper pretends to wipe his forehead once you’re all settled, as if that was really hard work. He likes playing human more than Alice does, especially when you’re a baby. It makes him happy, and that makes you happy.

They flit around the table, letting you pick the fruit and toppings for your waffles and then arranging them into fun little patterns like kitty cats and smiley faces. Alice adds extra syrup with a wink and Jasper cuts them up into little pieces, feeding you by hand. His fingers get sticky and sweet, and you can’t resist biting them a few times while they’re in your mouth. It only makes him laugh, and he doesn’t bother to get a fork, so you know it doesn’t bother him.

Breakfast is sweet and messy and there’s blueberry juice all over your hands and face by the time you’re finished. Jasper is also covered in syrup, but Alice has managed to stay mysteriously clean.

“Looks like the two of you are taking a bath,” she says, pressing a kiss to Jasper’s temple as she lifts the tray up from your chair. “I’ll clean the dishes, darling, you take the baby upstairs.”

“As you wish,” Jasper says. His accent gets stronger when he talks to Alice, and it’s clear how much he loves her. You’re so lucky to have them in your life, to be squished between the huge amounts of love they have for each other. Alice laughs and disappears into the kitchen as Jasper undoes your bib and starts to free you from the table.

“No bath,” you protest, trying to push his hands away. “No bath!”

“Yes a bath,” Jasper tells you, easily maneuvering around your flailing limbs. No fair! He’s too fast and strong for you. “You’re a very sticky baby.”

“No!” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. It was such a nice morning. You don’t want to take a bath. Jasper quietly lets you feel your frustration, finishing the unbuckling process and picking you up for the trip upstairs. You struggle against his grip. “No bath!”

“Sweetheart, you love baths,” Jasper sighs. He doesn’t react to any of the squirming and kicking as he carries you up the stairs. “You’re going to be happy once you’re in there.”

“No!” You can hardly remember what you’re upset about, but it means everything. Jasper won’t put you down! Everything is awful! No matter how hard you kick your legs, his grip is gentle and unyielding. “No, no, NO!” Finally giving up, you slump in his grasp, the tears coming in full force. Jasper holds you close and now you feel his powers slipping into your mind, easing the panic without stopping the tears entirely. You’re still sobbing when Jasper sits you down on the toilet seat so he can start your bath, but by the time he comes to take your clothes off, you’ve finally cried yourself out.

“Hi sweetheart,” Jasper says soothingly. You blink up at him, eyes sore from the tears and head fuzzy with exhaustion. “Arms up, please.” You oblige, and he slides your onesie off in a smooth movement, unwrapping the diaper from your waist so that when he helps you to standing, it gets left on the seat behind you. He moves it into the garbage and guides you into the bath.

As always, it’s the perfect temperature, and your toys are already waiting there, little floaty fish and boats with flashing lights that you can drive around while Jasper washes you and his own arms. You can make motorboat sounds with your lips and you do that while Jasper cleans your hands with a washcloth, splashing in the water once your arms are free again. Baths are the best. There are so many things to do!

Jasper washes you from head to toe, and the water gets fuzzy with soap and bubbles as he goes. You trail your fingers through the suds, watching them cling to your hand as you go. You’re still feeling tired from your tantrum, and a big yawn takes you by surprise as Jasper goes to drain the water.

“Early naptime today!” Alice calls up the stairs from the kitchen.

“As the missus commands,” Jasper murmurs to you. “An early naptime it is.”

You’re feeling cozy and pliant as Jasper helps you out of the water and scrubs a towel over your head before wrapping you up. He brushes your hair with gentle motions and dresses you in a new onesie once your diaper is securely on. A pacifier is produced from one of the cupboards and the next time you yawn, Jasper pops it into your mouth.

Sucking on it, you lean into his grasp, already starting to drift back to sleep. You know they won’t let you sleep too long, that the day will be full of blocks and games and getting bounced on Jasper’s knee. So you don’t bother to fight the drifting feeling, and you barely feel Jasper setting you back down in your crib. You hold onto him as he draws away, and a soft friend is pressed into your arms, settling your mind. You cuddle the stuffie close and roll onto your side in the crib, giving one last suck to your paci as you drift off to your nap.

#sugary sweet is exactly what this fanfiction is! #this made me want a little sib so bad #regressors who wear diapers are valid and precious and make for very good cuddles #agere writing #agere stories #twilight agere #twilight #alice would make the prettiest nursery everrrrr #i feel very soft after editing this #sfw agere #babyre #stories for regressors

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Other Masterlist

Hello Hello, this masterlist contains everything that isn’t Geraskier, Gerlion, Lambden, Triskel, or Lambskier, all which have their own lists! Checkout my Fanfiction Masterlist to find all of my fics! 

Rating listed in summary, warnings/triggers before fics.

I have written for:

Jaskel

Valdskier

General/No Pairing

Yenralt

Lambskel

Geralt/Jaskier/Eskel (Gereskier?)

Priscilla/Lambert

Jaskilion

Jaskier/Ciri

Ciri/Cerys

Yenskier

Calanthe/Eist

Gereskel

I also have other pairings like Yenskier and Geraskifer (and many more) on my Event Masterlists!

Fics under the cut

Jaskilion

Join Us

Jaskier and Dandelion have found a fun way to explore their similarities and differences, and they want their Geralt’s to join in. Rated T

Warmth

Jaskier watched in delight as Dandelion writhed underneath him. He had known that the man would enjoy the warm sensation on his body, just as Jaskier knew he would enjoy seeing the marks it left behind on his pale skin afterward. Not that Jaskier was particularly possessive but… well. Maybe he was. Rated E

Teeth and Silk

Jaskier knows Dandelion will look beautiful tied up for his enjoyment. Rated E

Go Back to Sleep

The moan coming from their room wasn’t exactly surprising. Many a night Jaskier had come home to find Dandelion touching himself, a delicate hand wrapped around his cock and a toy in his ass. It was honestly the best welcome home Jaskier could think of. Rated E

Jaskel

He Always Gets What He Wants 

Jaskier has set his sights on a new target and, luckily, Eskel doesn’t mind. Rated E

Chaos In Love

Jaskier has had a terribly rough day but his husband is there to help make everything better. Rated T

Ache

They weren’t perfect people, they both made mistakes. But they love each other - and love and communication could save them. Rated T

Valdskier

Thrill (ambigious ending)

Jaskier writes a new song and dedicates it to his nemesis, Valdo Marx. Jaskier is surprised when Valdo turns his own words against him. Rated M

He’s Not Important

Valdo is the perfect man, he really is. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he loves Jaskier. Jaskier wants something else. Rated E

Rivarly

Valdo and Jaskier have a professional rivalry of sorts, it was always bound to end up in the bedroom. Rated T

Sometimes

Jaskier didn’t want it, but he just couldn’t seem to quit Valdo. There was a pull that he just couldn’t quite explain. A need. Rated E

Begging for Respect

Gritting his teeth again, Jaskier spun around to glare at Valdo as he heard the man’s sugary sweet voice sing-song his name. His given name. The one he hated with every fiber of his very being. Rated T

Gen/No Pairing

A Melody of Suffering  (Sequel listed below)

Jaskier is shocked when he finds a witcher chained up on display, a village watching his suffering with joy. He has to do something, save the witcher somehow. Rated T

Home For Winter 

When witchers come home for winter, their defenses drop, and they're able to just enjoy the company. Rated G

Destiny 

Yennefer finds herself trapped in a room and unable to use her magic. At least she isn’t alone. Rated T

You Did The Right Thing 

Eskel and Lambert are there for Geralt on a bad mental health day. Rated T.

Commitment 

Dandelion finds the courage to confess one of his greatest secrets to his best friend Jaskier. Rated G

Refuge

Jaskier and Ciri run into each other while both on the run from Nilfgaard. Rated T

The Words Were Spring on the Tongue

Dandelion was cold. Until he wasn’t. Rated G **MCD**

Pretty, Curled Up on the Cell Floor

Jaskier wasn’t sure how it had come to this, but he supposed a hanging wasn’t the worst thing. Rated T

I’m Ready

It wasn’t supposed to end that way. Eskel... he wasn’t supposed to end that way. Geralt’s heart was shattering and all he could do was a small mercy. Rated T **MCD**

Protect Her

Geralt’s hand had itched with every risk she took. All he had wanted as he watched her walk headfirst into danger was to protect her and to keep her safe, but that wasn’t his job, not really. His job was to support her so she could grow and learn and be able to protect herself.

He should have protected her. Rated T **MCD**

Yenralt

His Trust Means Something 

Part one of the Femdom Universe. Geralt is ready to experiment with a new toy and Yennefer is more than happy to oblige her favorite client. Rated E

Lambskel

Take Me To The Edge 

In his experimentations, Lambert accidentally ruins his orgasm. Eskel helps teach him why that isn’t such a bad thing after all. Rated E

Thighs

“I think we should head to bed and you should let me fuck your thighs.” Rated E

Gereskier 

An Absolute Disaster

When Geralt first suggested the threesome, Jaskier hadn't been quite so sure. Now though, in the heat of the moment, he couldn't help but wonder why they hadn't done it sooner. Rated E

Priscilla/Lambert

A Bard’s Praise

Priscilla finds a witcher in need and does everything she can to help him. Maybe there’s a muse in it for her, too. Rated T.

Clanthe/Eist

Tease

Calanthe knows just how to drive her husband wild and she isn't afraid to do so in public. Rated  E

Yenskier

Toys

It was her favorite toy. His too. Rated E

Ciri/Jaskier

Finish What You Started

Jaskier wants nothing more than to worship Ciri in their stolen moments together, and so he does. Rated E

Ciri/Cerys

Unexpected

With a small smile at Cerys, Ciri pushed past her and walked out of the door. It had been far too long since she’d last visited Corvo Bianco. Rated G

Gereskel

Axii

Eskel didn’t particularly like using axii, no matter how good he may have been at it. Manipulating someone’s mind was a line he preferred to not cross when he was able, and he knew Geralt felt much the same. But he needed sleep. A tired witcher was a slow witcher, and slow witcher was a dead witcher. Rated M

INCOMPLETE

Jaskel

A Melody - Ch 1, 2, 3, 4 (hiatus - being rewritten)

Sequel to A Melody of Suffering. After saving Eskel from certain death, Jaskier travels alongside the witcher to Kaer Morhen. Rated E

#masterlist #fanfiction masterlist #the witcher #yenralt #jaskel #lambskier #gereskier #lambskel #trisskel #valskier #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lamberrt #eskel #valdo marx

[thekitchenismykingdom]

Kitchen Shenanigans - Lovestruck Fanfiction

Relationship - Lucien Rivercrest/Roman Tarrenglade  Rating - G Summary - Lucien and Roman, navigating the waters of a new relationship, spend some time together in the kitchen. Unfortunately for them, they can't quite keep it professional. A/N - I was inspired to write this solely because I was flipping through a food magazine at 2am when I couldn't sleep. The chili potato tart recipe is real, and the crust is delicious.

Another lazy Sunday came to Sweet Enchantments, and the two denizens of the kitchen were spending the day inside, crafting and perfecting recipes. Lucien was busy with a fresh batch of golden éclairs, a charitable donation requested by a supportive and well-respected customer. Liora was only happy to oblige, and volunteered Lucien to prepare something for the event. Lucien couldn’t remember exactly what it was for, but he recalled the organization helped incarcerated magicians find gainful employment after serving their sentence or as a condition of early release.

Living and working at the café had expanded his thought process about magical society and how it treats people, judging them based on their background and ability. While he would have preferred spending his day off in other ways, Lucien knew this was the right thing to do. He had been given an opportunity here at the café, so why not give back and help others?

He glanced at Roman on the other side of the kitchen, who had been preparing some kind of pastry for dinner. A dozen thoughts swarmed his head all at once, but Lucien shook his head and focused on the task before him.

While he carefully filled the éclairs with a marbled lemon and raspberry cream, Roman took his chili tart crust out of the oven. The baking paper crackled as he shook it slightly, the baking weights rolling over each other.

“This smells incredible already,” Roman said with a pleased smile. Lucien paused in his work and sniffed the air.

“It’ll be even better with the filling.”

Roman turned toward Lucien after placing the partially-baked tart shell on the counter.

“Oh? Mr. Cool as a Cucumber broke his concentration for my little tart?”

Lucien smirked and picked up another éclair.

“Mere mortals of the kitchen deserve to be graced with a compliment from time to time,” Lucien replied, not taking his eyes off the dessert in hand before placing it down and picking up another.

Roman shook his head fondly, returning to his tart. He peeled the roasted tomatoes, garlic, and chili and set to work mashing them together, seasoning along the way. He poured the mashed tomato mixture into the bottom of the tart and spread it evenly before reaching for his thinly-sliced potatoes. Arranging them carefully into concentric circles, Roman reached for the pile of grated cheese to his left.

“Perfectly placed potato slices? On your food?” Lucien teased from behind Roman’s shoulder, and Roman jumped slightly.

“Lucien! I’m concentrating!”

Lucien hummed and grabbed a few strings of cheese to taste.

“Mmm. Buttery, and slightly nutty. Good melt factor.”

“It’s a type of Swiss cheese,” Roman explained, sprinkling it on top of the potatoes. “Emeril introduced it to me a while ago, and I thought I’d incorporate it into a new dish I’m crafting.”

“You’re using the first tomatoes of the season?”

Roman hummed and placed the tart into the oven, setting a timer. He stretched out and set to work cleaning his station, opting for a traditional approach as opposed to using magic. Lucien had a habit of needling him about his messy cleaning magic.

“Well, would you like to assist me in finishing the éclairs?” Lucien asked as he observed Roman clean up.

Roman paused for a moment in wiping the counter down, eventually replying, “I might sit out in the garden. Tend to some of the vegetables.”

Lucien blinked.

“Weren’t you out there just this morning?”

“Yes, but it’s a nice day and I have to wait for the tart to finish baking anyway.”

“Hm.”

Lucien slowly walked back to his station, staring at the éclairs. He picked up one of the few left and inserted the tip of the piping bag, gently squeezing until the felt the éclair expand slightly. He worked on two more before asking Roman, “Are you sure you’d rather go outside?”

This time Roman turned to him, curious.

“Did you need help with something?”

Lucien visibly swallowed, but his voice was its normal cool tone.

“I don’t really need help.”

Roman stared at Lucien as he finished filling the éclairs, placing the nearly empty piping bag to the side, squished and crinkled. He walked over and placed his chin on Lucien’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to stay so we can finish these together?”

Lucien was quiet for a moment, glancing at Roman from the corner of his eye.

”...Yes.”

Roman smiled and brushed a kiss against Lucien’s cheek.

“That’s all you had to say,” he said, taking his place beside Lucien at the workstation.

“I’m still new to this,” Lucien mumbled, letting out a huff as he turned to grab a bowl of melted dark chocolate and place it on the station.

Roman understood Lucien’s feelings well; a situation as complicated as theirs required a mutual understanding. Lucien had never acted on his feelings for another man before, and they were both involving themselves with a co-worker. Roman didn’t wan to believe that their good working relationship would be soured if their romantic entanglement ended, but it was always a possibility.

Shaking away these thoughts, Roman gave Lucien a bright smile and reassured, “We both are. We’ll navigate any challenges that present themselves, and we’ll do it together.”

Lucien returned Roman’s smile with his own, albeit, smaller one, before shifting his focus back to the filled but bare éclairs.

“I need these dipped in the chocolate, Roman,” Lucien explained. He grabbed an éclair and dipped it in the bowl, slowly pulling it out and allowing the excess chocolate to drip. He delicately twisted his wrist so the éclair faced up and showed the glossy chocolate finish to Roman.

“Think you can do that?”

Roman was tempted to take a bite right out of Lucien’s hand, but he had no desire to ruin the nice time they were having preparing the éclairs together.

“Of course! Leave it to me, O Master of Pastries.” Roman then set to work dipping the éclairs into the chocolate, flourishing his wrist just as Lucien showed him to ensure the chocolate covered the tops of the pastry evenly.

Lucien, meanwhile, whipped ice-cold cream with a balloon whisk until it stood up in a stiff peak on the whisk.

“Shall we turn it over your head to make sure it’s whipped enough?” Roman suggested, a small smile playing on his lips.

“These aren’t egg whites, Roman.”

“Oh, yes. Well, maybe you should use your big strong arms to hand-whip some egg whites next? Then we can use that bowl trick.”

“Something tells me you want to see me covered in-”

Lucien stopped himself, and Roman raised an eyebrow at him, his smile morphing into a smirk.

“Yes? Go on, Lucien. What were you saying?”

Lucien ignored him and dropped the whipped cream into a clean piping bag, twisting it closed. Quickly he piped a perfect star of whipped cream on one end of each éclair, quickly catching up to Roman.

“You’re lagging,” Lucien pointed out, and Roman sniffed at him, but hurried in his task until each éclair was dipped and covered in a thin sheen of dark chocolate. Lucien hummed his approval as he finished piping the last bit of cream on the final few éclairs.

“What’s next?” Roman asked, and Lucien gestured to a bowl that he had floated over a minute before.

“We decorate the éclairs with a few strands of these candied lemon peels,” Lucien explained, and showed Roman just how many slices to put and how he wanted them arranged. They worked together quietly after that, both men concentrating on the task at hand. Lucien looked over at Roman to evaluate his éclairs, and noticed how his long fingers carefully placed each strand of lemon peel in an artful arrangement on top of the whipped cream.

“The sugary peel is a nice pop of colour against the black and white on top of the pastry, don’t you think, Lucien?”

“I- Yes, that’s one reason I chose this garnish.”

Roman heard the slight hesitation and turned his head to look at Lucien. Lucien swallowed, acutely aware of Roman’s eyes scanning his face, deep red rippling pools that finally settled on his mouth.

“Would you mind if I stole a kiss?” Roman whispered, dessert completely forgotten.

Lucien’s professionalism and respect for the kitchen came to the forefront of his mind, but something else told him that he could make a small exception. Just this once. Roman’s sweet expression rivalled the pastry in front of them, and Lucien found in this moment, he could not resist the temptation.

“Not this time,” Lucien whispered back, leaning in and-

“How are those éclairs coming Luci- Oh!”

Lucien and Roman sprang apart as if pulled by magic, Liora’s voice ringing out in the silent kitchen.

“Ah, Liora, I wasn’t- We didn’t expect-” Roman scrambled, immediately trying to cover for his indiscretion. The surprise wearing off, Liora schooled her features into a neutral mask, the usual calm she exuded settling Roman down.

“I can’t say I’m not surprised to see you both in such a... position,” Liora began, a hand on her hip, “But I hope that the kitchen won’t be a place to tiptoe around in the future.” She gave them both firm, even looks. Lucien fidgeted for a moment, certain that Liora’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than it had on Roman, as if to say she was more disappointed in him for this uncharacteristic lapse in judgement.

“Absolutely not,” Lucien managed to say, standing a little straighter. “This...won’t happen again.” He looked to Roman, who nodded in agreement.

Liora gave them another once over, light eyes practically glowing with intensity, before her posture relaxed and the hand fell from her hip back to her side.

“How are the desserts coming?” she asked, taking a few steps towards the counter and observing their work.

“Nearly everything is ready. All the éclairs are filled and dipped, and only a few remaining pastries need their garnish,” Lucien explained. He picked up an éclair and placed it on a small dish before handing it to Liora for inspection. She accepted the plate and brought it closer to her face, scanning the pastry while slowly rotating the plate. With a satisfied hum, she put the plate down on the table and gave Lucien a pleased smile.

“These look delectable as always, Lucien. Great work. I appreciate you taking the time to help this initiative,” Liora said, and Lucien only nodded. Liora’s support was a welcome thing, unused to it though he was, and he sometimes felt ill equipped to respond to it.

Liora then turned to Roman, one light eyebrow delicately arched.

“I trust that the next time you assist Lucien, things will stay clean and professional?”

Roman actually blushed, cheeks as red as his hair, and Lucien had to hold back a grin. With a cough, Roman stood up straighter, some natural colour returning to his face.

“Of course, Liora. Today was... Today won’t happen again. Promise.” Roman gave her a winning smile then, and Liora nodded her approval.

Looking around the kitchen, Lucien half-expected her to comment on something else amiss, but she merely smiled and told them to keep up the good work that they do. With a graceful turn, Liora walked towards the dining area, but paused and turned to Roman.

“Whatever you have in the oven smells delicious, Roman. I’d love to try a slice at dinner if it’s not burned yet.”

Then she left the kitchen, heels clacking on the floor as she disappeared.

Lucien and Roman were both silent for a moment before Roman sprang into action with a yelp, grabbing a thick dishtowel and opening the oven door, reaching for the tart he had put in to bake earlier. He quickly but carefully set it down on the counter, scrutinizing the top of it. The cheese was well browned and bubbling, slightly crisp in some spots, and the tart crust was just shy of overcooked. Roman visibly deflated as he let out the breath he had been holding, and Lucien sidled up beside him, just barely brushing shoulders.

“It looks fine,” Lucien said, and Roman sighed again.

After a few moments, Roman leaned into Lucien slightly and asked, “Want to go out into the garden with me? I have to wait a while for this to cool, and...” He trailed off, looking thoughtful.

“I think I’ve had enough kitchen today,” he finished, and Lucien thought back to their intimate moment before Liora walked in. Shame burned under his collar, knowing he was better than that, but he realized he never answered Roman’s question and shook the thoughts away.

“I understand what you mean. I’ll garnish the last few éclairs and I’ll join you once I’ve finished.”

Roman gave him an appreciative smile, squeezing his arm and exiting the kitchen. Lucien watched him leave, smiling to himself despite the day they’d had. Everything between them felt new and just a little bit confusing, but Lucien was ready to face these challenges as long as Roman would be there with him.

Wandering back to the éclairs, Lucien picked up the plate with the lone dessert and gave it a once-over. He decided that Roman needed something sweet, so he would bring the éclair with him for Roman to try.

“Maybe if I’m lucky enough, he’ll share,” Lucien said to himself. With that, he left the kitchen to join Roman outside, two forks hanging loosely in his fingers.

#lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #sweet enchantments #lucien rivercrest #roman tarrenglade #my writing

[peppermint-chocolate-cherries]

What are your favorite writing tropes, particularly when it comes to romance? Are there certain ones you avoid?

Great question, thank you for sending it!  I don’t know if you are specifically asking in terms of my several Hetalia plot bunnies, or just in general, but all my fanfiction writing is specifically for how I characterize those - let’s be honest - absolute idiots known as personifications.

I’m not sure how I would describe exactly which tropes I love, hate or use the most.  I draw a lot of inspiration from the movies and television I have watched over my many years, along with books I’ve read a long time ago and other fanfics I’ve read way more recently.

Some examples are the stories I have already published or worked on for Hetalia fanfiction.  Absorbing the Deck had lines stolen from LOTR, Maleficent, Inside Out, and Hamlet, and really pushed the “power of friendship and love” trope at the climax of the story.  The Nefarious Mathilda Jones was ripped off of the Christopher Nolan trilogy of Batman movies, and I really felt the Danganronpa vibes of despair when writing the climax.  The Havana Lunare, one of my plot bunnies that is now on hiatus, is a classic vampires vs wolves series with the very familiar trope of a youngster leading the way to peace and reconciliation between the groups.

Dare I mention my current work in progress, The English Quixote?  The deliberate rip-off of multiple fairy tales including Cinderella, Swan Lake, Beauty & The Beast, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, The Snow Queen, The Frog Prince, and Don Quixote?  Can you guess how many tropes are going to be in this comedic fantasy adventure?

Ultimately, if it can even be described as a trope, my favourite writing technique is the deliberate placements of tiny clues throughout a work foreshadowing a huge plot twist to be revealed later.  For example, those tiny clues that someone is hiding their actual identity or their possibly villainous master plan.  Even in the environment you can find clues, I still remember learning the term “dramatic irony” in high school when it comes to Macbeth.

I’m not sure about the romantic side of tropes, since it’s hard for me to write romance.  As mentioned above, I’m much more into the action and plot twists than the romantic scenes.  Still, I have had to write flirting and kissing into my stories, and they turned out quite well.  My first-kiss scene with Matthew and Lilli in Absorbing the Deck was sugary sweet, on a balcony after dark with maple leaves caught in the breeze.  I do also have Arthur sacrificing his own life for his beloved, so maybe there’s that romantic trope too.

I don’t hate much on tropes, they just make me shake my head at how obvious they are when they present themselves.  But if there is a standard category of tropes I would hate as much as their primary source material, it is chick-flick material.  I’ve avoided chick flick movies like the plague for most of my life, they are not relatable at all and neither are their common romantic drama tropes.  How can I relate to these gorgeous women who seem to have their adult lives together and are either fighting with another girl over a stud or can’t decide which stud they want?  I have never had any interest in those tropes or the frivolous drama surrounding them.

(Maybe that’s part of why I think I’m on the aro-ace spectrum, what an interesting coincidence...)

Long story short, I’m all for the tropes related to fantasy adventures, thrilling drama and life-and-death situations, and against frivolous chick-flick drama tropes.

Thanks for the great question!

Now, back to what I was thinking about before I saw your ask: how to adjust the Snow White plot line for a rebellious Princess Natalya who is definitely NOT an absolute sweetheart...

#ask answered #long answer #i got carried away #send me questions #inspire me to write

[gogo-karasuno]

Haikyuu Self-Ship Meme

I was tagged by: @haikyuudreaming

Tagging: @samwrights @bokutokoutarou @queenktbigal @pinkieperil @iwaixiumi Sorry if I’ve tagged someone who has been tagged before.

Rules: Ship yourself with your favorite character and give headcanons on how your relationship would go.

Notes: I’m an overly complicated, dramatic bitch so there’s like some build up here. Y’all getting some character set up and my personal headcanon for various characters too. This is about being Self-Indulgent and damn am I here to Indulge.

--- ---

Tsukishima x Tadashi x Gogo: TsukkiYamaGo

- The Basic Background: I’m a first year student at Karasuno and from Kitagawa First along with Nozomi Watabe, the Girl’s Team Libero. We’ve been friends for so long we kind of function as the same person sometimes. Since we’ve also been playing volleyball for just as long it makes us Something on the court. Because we went to Kita we’ve possibly had classes with Kageyama, Kindachi, and Kunimi. My personality has things in common with Kunimi so I imagine were were friends and this brought Kindachi into my friends group. Since I’m a Setter (for the pout, perceptiveness, strategy, and tendency to enjoy pulling the string) I did totally did some pick up games with Kindachi and Kunimi because sometimes a person just wants to get a toss they can hit. Nozomi and I both knew were were walking into Something for the Karasuno Girls Team but we still made that call.

- Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and I are all in the same class first year. Because I selected the college prep course I knew I wouldn’t share classes with Nozomi but it is still a total bummer. I’m at a new school, kind of introverted, and sort of on my own in class because she’s not there. This should, in theory, make me pay attention in class but it absolutely does nothing of the sort.

- If I reached out to someone first it would be Tadashi. One of those “Introverts Unite” kinds of things because maybe we can at least Exist near each other. I was used as the person to split up talkative kids in school and here is no different.

- Tsukishima and I do that thing that cats do where they circle each other while deciding if they want to coexist or slap each other. We’re both sarcastic piles of salts so we’ve got to figure out how that is going to meld together. I’m also delightfully bitch on top of this and am always ready to throw down at a moment's notice. If anything, we probably get along too well while shittalking other people.

- Before the Saturday First Year’s Game for the Guys I find out they play volleyball. There’s some actual apologizing because wow they have the King of the Court. Between my own irritation at Kageyama for being so Kingly (Part of being the Control Tower is Communication) and hearing even more details from Kindachi and Kunimi...I’m just so unhappy. This school doesn’t have an Oikawa to carry through the year either.

- I hide behind Yams a lot in class so the teacher forgets I exist with how quiet I am. If I could change it up to sit behind Tsukishima I would. After meeting the Girl’s Team, my free, and not so free moments, become trying to figure out how to make this team workable? There has to be something to do with what we have to be better.

- A lot of our original Just Us interactions outside of school tend to involve notes and homework. Sometimes I miss things in class or I need extra explanation for math so Yamaguchi helps me. Tsukishima, having nothing better to do, tends to show up with him to snark while helping. However, I won’t study with them because I’m very much a solitary studying kind of person.

- Eventually we start hanging out more and more without homework or class as the excuse. Sometimes it is the three of us watching movies, listening to movies, or just kind of moving around town. Other times, Yamaguchi and I throw a volleyball around while talking with Tsukishima sitting nearby and doing his own thing. Volleyball takes front and center more after Interhigh. The girl's team did way better but they lost out in the end. So, I double down practicing with the team and on my own. This carries over to a lot of practices with those two and occasionally Nozomi. I have a strong belief that everyone should be rock solid at receiving and as someone with a pretty great serve I openly admit to targeting Middle Blockers. It is something I really encourage Tadashi to learn because "A pinch-serving, Middle Blocker screams 'Target me!' if they need a person to spike at."

- A big note from Interhigh, though, is the guys actually saw me cry for the first time. I'm so frustrated at working so hard and still losing that it turns into angry, frustrated tears rolling down my cheeks. Nozomi and I are both just seething at losing to Niiyama because we were hellbent that this would be the time we went to Nationals. The past three years was playing second fiddle to Shiratorizawa Junior and now we've got Niiyama standing in our way.

- The first thing that should be a Clue about what is building up is very much the first time I slip up and call Tsukishima "Tsukki". I'm perceptive enough to have noticed that it is very much a Yamaguchi for Tsukishima Nickname and not a "For everyone" Nickname. I go  to apologize for my slipup. However, I actually get that it is okay. Tsukishima admits he doesn't mind hearing that name from me. Should be pointed out that I turn fucking scarlet because I blush at any major emotion. Yamaguchi also isn't annoyed at me using that nickname.

- I can also see Yams and I falling into a habit of being touchy with each other. When given the chance we sit close together we just do. We aren't exactly touch starved but there is something so reassuring to both of us. It goes from slight brushes to being draped around each other more or less. Sometimes Tsukishima is slightly pulled into things. We'll lean against him while animatedly talking in front of him or just watching something.

- These should be like Giant Obvious Hints that we are all clearly getting to be more than friends. It goes directly over the top of my head. Honestly, all three of us missing such hints feels like an ongoing theme for the three of us. For a perceptive trio of people we really are not picking up each other's hints.

- At some point I admit that they are like Nozomi to me in that they are don't count as "People". I'm very introverted by nature so there are very few people who don't drain me. It is a huge thing when someone doesn't tire me out let along finding two people who don't tire me out at the same time is gold.

- Since I'm a storyteller by nature I start to let it slip to them that I enjoy writing a lot and even want to make a possible podcast telling stories. Tsukki teases me because that is just how Tsukki communicates with people. But, I also see him sending me links later that night for microphones and headphones that would be great to start with. Yams is like 500% supportive from the get go. I tease them about how they should join me. We can all banter together, especially when Tsukki and I riff off each other so well.

- Summer is training for all of us and our time spent together is honestly trying to speed through summer homework. Sometimes it becomes more talking to each other over video calls or text than truly getting to see each other. I do make it a point to ask Yams about learning the Jump Float. I've got a regular jump serve but I need something extra for the next time I see Niiyama. I also Tsukki about blocking. Even if my team as a whole depends more on receiving than straight blocking there has to be something I can do.

- Sometimes before this I feel like it comes out that I have a couple of Mental Illnesses (and I headcanon as Yams having Anxiety and Depression as well) so like sometimes we are just both coping together. I also have a very poor reaction to "Fight or Flight" because I literally turned it into "Fight or Fight". It means I jump straight to arguing or spinning on my heel while swinging. Also, tears. I could see Tsukki originally being an ass about it until it quickly sinks in that this is actually a very serious thing. I could see both of them getting kind of protective over me because of these and I'm just as protective over them.

- Us actually getting together probably comes in the Exhilaration of both of us getting to go to the Spring Tournament to Represent Miyagi. There is something about doing the Impossible on top of Pure Exhaustion that just drops all sense of filters. It kind of comes out that hey we all kind of like each other as more than friends probably during a like 2am video call that night. Tsukki acts like he totally knew what was going on the entire time and was waiting on us to catch up. I admit I thought I was just misreading things a lot. Yamaguchi is probably the most together and we realize this is a thing. How do three people date? Well, that's something we're going to figure out.

- A lot of our dates are probably to museums or to the planetarium with cute cafe visits after. Tsukki's love of sweets, and mine too, mean we've been to a lot of cafes together. It is just like one of our Things.

- I am a caffeine fiend so sometimes I bring everyone coffee or one of them surprises us. Kei Tsukishima is weak for super sugary Starbucks style drinks and nothing will change my mind. Yamaguchi teases us about how much we love them. But, I will also drink coffee with two creams if it is good coffee.

- Tsukki blames Tadashi and I for the "Lame" Hobbies he picks up. My phone games expand to include the two of them so I have partners for things. Tsukki is fond of the quiz and stratgey games so we kind of get way too competative. Tadashi already pulled him into playing Pokemon but I double that need to actually play. Tsukki teases me, and to a lesser degree Tadashi, for reading fanfiction until a series he loved ended poorly. Guess who got really into Fix-It fics after that?

- I bitch and moan to Tsukki about “Playing volleyball with glasses *sucks* like. We get such ugly goggles to keep from shattering glasses.”

- Tadashi, and Tsukki who would die before saying it, thinks it is so cute when I argue up at him. I have to fully tilt my head back to make eye contact but that has never stopped me. In fact, Tsukki is a total dick about me being way, way shorter than him. Honestly, I look like an angry Porg when I argue with him. That being said, at concerts he works to get us seats where I can see.

- Yams has a picture of Tsukki and I flipping him off when he told us we look "Cute" with our sports goggles when playing. Even if we both found "cool" designs we still don't like them. But, we're also both smart enough to know that taking a volleyball to the face can crack contacts. 

- I told Nozomi about us but we otherwise were just like, "People can find out when they find out." and that's going to take a while. None of us are okay with PDA beyond like hugs or handholding. It's also not something out of the ordinary with Yams and I by this point. Yeah, I'm prickly about being touched unless asked but I'm also pretty touch oriented when I've given someone the go ahead. I also get lost easily, especially when paying more attention to my phone, or get super anxious in crowds and touch calms me down. 

- Akiteru nearly cried when he realized Tsukki had two partners. He cried when he realized Tsukki finally got along with a team and made a friend beyond Tadashi. Him dating Tadashi wasn't unexpected but the fact they're both dating me just causes him to have pride at coming out of shell to date people.

- Tadashi and I are flavors of nonbinary so we totally trades clothes with each other that fits sometimes. I love his hoodies and he gets my skirts or dresses sometimes. Makeup is a little out of my league beyond the basics but I could see him taking to way easier. I paint his nails a lot and introduce him to the base and top coats. I also totally braid his hair and put cute clips in it. We trade body sprays too. Tsukki glares at people who think of saying things to us.

#gogo tagged #self-shipping meme #gogo things #lots of my own headcanons #i'm poly bi and nonbinary #so i'm catering to me

[dramionediscussion]

I don’t think Hermione is perfect, but I can see where people are coming from with that. Closely related to that, admittedly she is JKR’s self-insert, which is relevant, but I don’t think in a way I see it often levied against her. That word and especially its manifestation Mary Sue gets thrown around a lot these days, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with self-inserts. If one has humility, introspectiveness, and honesty to truly examine and portray themselves truthfully, with all their follies and flaws displayed openly at the world. Realistic self-inserts after all are full-fledged and multidimensional characters, and it has been done well often by many authors throughout ages (like Agatha Christie or Kurt Vonnegut to name a few). Presenting highly idealized and (unrealistically) flattering portray of oneself, and then living out one’s fantasies vicariously through that fictitious avatar is entirely different matter. Regardless of exact nature of those fantasies (be them power fantasies, or erotic, or romantic, or just world, etc. Whatever ends up in those “then everyone clapped”-moments). It would be a stretch and unfair to describe JKR and Hermione like that. My theory for Hermione is that she started out more closely as a somewhat authentic if not exaggerated portrayal of her younger self at earlier books. Slowly as the series progresses JKR became ever more attached and fond of Hermione as a character independent of herself and her own life history. Earlier books Hermione’s flaws are lot more pronounced, and they also feel a lot more raw and personal. They get ironed out, refined and almost sublimated, to a point that while they are never entirely absent, they are so muted at the end that might not even be there. In the earlier books she frequently comes off as awkward, overconfident, precocious, tactless, stubborn, self-righteous, and she often totally lacks subtlety and doesn’t seem be at all aware of her actions are perceived by others. She also lacks humility, when her own moral intuition and sense of justice is concerned.   To a degree, she gave her something of an idealized past and certain experiences she probably wished she would’ve had (like the princess moment at the Yule Ball. I don’t know if she fantasied of being belle of the ball exactly like that, but in general an experience of being desired and beautiful). Despite those certain indulgences, there’s brutal honesty there as well (her classroom behavior, S.P.E.W., etc.) Yet, as books went on, It never reads like a narcissistic projection of the self, but more like an attachment between parent and child, protégé and mentor, biographer and biographee, teacher and favorite pupil, or author and her favorite character. It’s not unrealistic ofc, that when people grow older, they mature and their personality flaws are at least tempered, or they entirely grow out of them. However, usually something else comes along molded by new experiences and circumstances, thus even if people don’t have problems they had as young, something or other comes along to fill that void.   Hermione is not entirely without fault even in later books, but often even when she’s wrong her thoughts are well-founded and usually even partially right (like with Draco as a Death Eater. She was technically wrong, but it’s not like Draco was a Death Eater in a way Bellatrix or even his father was, which totally was the way Harry thought he was). When she acts childishly or selfishly she usually is justified at least somewhat. Ultimately her errors are quite inconsequential compared to Harry and Ron. I believe, it was partly because JKR had become so much more fond of her, that she simply didn’t have heart to give her defects, hardships and failures as much as she had in the beginning. It was a gradual shift without a clear turning-point, but it never goes to the total extreme that she’s absolutely flawless and perfect, nonetheless the process is there. Closest to a turning point is perhaps the Yule Ball, though despite everything, I always found it to be kind of sweet and fluffy in itself rather than self-indulgent. What was more came afterwards, when she kind of dismissed it, because you see it’s not like she’s vain about her looks. I mean, she totally could be pretty, if she just wished so, and paid enough attention to her appearance. But no no, she’s not superficial like all those other simpering girls. Yet, she totally could be because she’s naturally pretty beneath it all. I would totally win, only if I bothered to even play is kind of an ultimate flex.    Another major element for this is the genre of Harry Potter series is. It is a coming-of-age story, and a school drama as well, but above all else, the overarching narrative is a fantasy adventure. The main-plot is the struggle against and an ultimate defeat of evil antagonist. The main plot becomes ever more relevant as the series goes on, to the final conclusion of the Deathly Hallows, which is devoted almost entirely to it. This affects characterizations, not only that the trio are heroic protagonist, who overcome obstacles and perform extraordinary feats and heroic deeds against all odds. It’s given that even if they do mistakes, and don’t always win, they’ll triumph and succeed in a way, that wouldn’t be appropriate if it was just a drama, or a realistic depiction of teenagers. This is especially true for both Harry and Hermione at the later books (little less for Ron, but he’s there). They are going to be way more competent, capable, virtuous and lucky than teenagers or children that age would be realistically, or most other literary genres. Second effect is sort of economics of a story. At the later books, so much has to be allocated to the main plot, with all its many intricacies. Events have to be told, and one has to build up everything up from the Macguffins to Voldemort himself, and then resolve all it. Less and less time and attention can be devoted into Hermione’s backstory (or anybody’s), or interpersonal drama or individualized character development. In my opinion earlier books stroke a much better balance than the later ones between these different elements. Or perhaps I just never found the main-plot or the Second Wizarding War (my God, it could even abbreviated as WW2) to be all that interesting or compelling. Also, as HP become more about this epic fantasy adventure, and less about growing up, being in a school and the interpersonal drama, fitting in, finding and forming friendships, and so on. As this happened, I am quite sure that Hermione become more divorced from JKR’s own experiences and her self-insert as Hermione. Even if it is a magical school, it is still a school, with all the anxiousness about friends, future, crushes and dating, school work, teachers, etc. It’s easier to project yourself in that common setting such as a school is, rather than riding dragons and breaking into banks and hunting down and destroying evil magical artifacts. I can understand, why writing Hermione become more difficult, as environment and rhythm of books changed considerably from more familiar to more fantastic, and I can see how especially Hermione didn’t make the transition as well, because she was more heavily grounded into former. I can see why in its entirety Hermione comes of as a little contradictory, because there’s truth to both claims that she’s at the same time too perfect and that she’s multifaceted and complex. There’s interesting core to her character, and there’s a lot of material and potential to work with. Unfortunately, due many aforementioned reasons JKR didn’t manage to realize that potential and set-up she had constructed. I don’t think it was an utter failure, even at the latter books, but missed opportunities and unrealized potential were many. I didn’t meant to write JKR or canon apologia here, but I don’t detest either of them. There’s clearly something there, both to Hermione and canon, but it’s kind of uneven and conflicting at the times. A mixed bag, but usually that’s most interesting starting point for a fanfiction, unlike a perfection or fiasco. Trying to turn shit into gold is not worth of the effort, but neither is trying to fiddle around a divine masterpiece. I’ve always felt that fanfiction actually benefits, if author has left a lot of ground uncovered and has some internal contradictions, which gives way for different possibilities and avenues for fanfiction writers to broaden horizons and deepen characterizations, and fulfill those missed potentialities. If HP was this crown jewel of perfection by all means, solely without any missed potentialities or loose ends, then I probably wouldn’t even be interested in reading fanfiction about it. As it would’ve been done so wonderfully in canon, that fanfiction could never match up in comparison, and there wouldn’t be room for other attempts (couldn’t imagine reading Dostoevsky fanfiction as an example). I’ve always held, that one main reason why Draco as an example is so prominent and popular in fanfiction, is because he fit so comfortably in that perfect sweetspot of canon coverage. He’s not Theodore Nott, which has almost no hooks or knowable features, but neither is he Harry, who’s so well and extensively covered, that I’d find it suffocating to write in his perspective. P.S. If there’s one thing JKR didn’t spoil her was romance lol. No hot steaming affairs or a passionate romances for her. Not even giving her that cultured and sophisticated (if a bit dangerous) chad vying for her attention, who is inexplicably attracted to her, and ends up worshiping her. Actually, it’s not like she even got a sugary and mushy teenage dating treatment either. Awkward courting, necking at the make-out point, him carrying her books and suddenly developing uncharacteristic interest at the schoolwork and library. What was there, jealously and couple grand gestures at the end. Poor girl. I’ve always wondered whether JKR meant to write Romione as she did with Hinny. A little schmaltzy, “then the best friends, the heroine and heroine fell in love, and got married and lived happily ever after”-affair (kind of fitting for a fantasy adventure novels primary aimed for children and YAs. Hinny was ok I suppose as compatibility goes, but Romione in the other hand… well the basic idea if not characters chosen were acceptable). Or was it suppose to be a gritty realism, more in line with her self-insert, in which the smart girl gets roped in by almost the first guy she’s ever into, who’s actually really unfit for her.

#dramione #this is a very good take on things! #submission

[acelikesturtles]

“Crushed”

Prompt: #2 (Childhood Best Friends AU)

Warnings: Mention/Experience of Childhood Bullying, Angsty

Word Count: 2,201

A/N: This is from this ask game that I posted a while back and just now was able to fully get around to. This is a little more angsty than it is fluffy at first, but the end result is kinda cuddly and fluffy if you ask me lol. I obviously took quite a few creative liberties with the interpretation (because this is an AU prompt) and the set up was rather heavily inspired from the vibe/aesthetics from the now abandoned fanfiction I wrote back in 2013/14. It was nice to be able to get back into that headset again, I miss that fanfiction a lot actually. That may be why it took me so long to get this finished? Reminded me a lot of what once was and it was healthy to be able to reflect on some of those old creative notions and get some of that out.

The moment Mikey stepped onto his balcony and into the crisp, early summer air, a gust of cool wind hit his lightly freckled cheeks and carried the smell of freshly roasted marshmallows, smoke, and melting chocolate through the breeze. As of only a few hours ago it was officially summer vacation. For Mikey, seeing his three best friends gathered around a small propane fire pit pelting marshmallows at each other gave him a sense of zen that his mother would not be able to sympathize with given the mess and the ruckus unfolding on their balcony that the landlord would surely complain about the next morning.

“Ow! Raph that could’ve cracked my lenses!”

Donnie frowned and removed his glasses to wipe the powder and mess from the right lens with the sleeve of his dark grey hoodie. In an act of childish revenge and in solidarity for the quietest of the group, Leo grabbed a handful of marshmallows out of the bag in front of them and threw them at Raph, only for the quarterback to catch a few sugary bullets in his mouth instead of allowing them all to go to waste on the concrete beneath them.

“Nice try, fearless.” Raph laughed through a half-chewed mouthful of marshmallows.

Mikey sat down on the remaining patio chair, the squeaky green one that he usually reserved for Leo just to annoy him, and began snapping graham crackers over his paper plate while Leo handed squares of chocolate out.

"How was your last day, Raph?" Leo asked, dropping the chocolate square onto Raph’s paper plate. Raph was too busy trying to finish the unintentional 'Chubby Bunny Challenge' he had started. With one clearly painful swallow which almost provoked the turtle to tears followed by a couple hard fist pounds on his plastron, he cleared his throat before giving an unceremonious shrug of his shoulders.

"It was alright. Mrs. Barkley wanted us to write a letter to our future selves er somethin' stupid like that. Kinda lame if you ask me."

"Hey, I thought that was fun, dude, don't ruin the vibes!" Mikey pouted. Even though Raph and Mikey happened to share the same teacher, that didn’t mean that their experience in her class was at all similar to one another. This was in part because Mikey was often pulled for extra assistance and missed some of the in-class instruction. This didn’t annoy him most of the time since he was typically pulled during math class and numbers never failed to make him exceptionally sleepy. "Did you even write anything?" He asked, swatting at a mosquito that had landed on his thigh.

"Yeah sure," Raph waved his hand at him nonchalantly, then leaned back in his patio chair so far that he almost tipped himself over. "Nothin special, just words, you know."

Leo clucked his tongue and shook his head. He was smirking. Leonardo carefully skewered a marshmallow and held it over the gas flame before looking back up at Raph. He had leaned forward in his chair again and was digging in the marshmallow bag for the biggest, puffiest marshmallow that he could find. "Yeah, and what are you gonna do when your mom wants to see it?" Leo asked in a challenging tone.

"Who said she's gonna?" Raph countered back as he stabbed his marshmallow rather aggressively onto his skewer.

While Raph and Leo continued yet again to engage in a pointless discussion about the value of doing busy work, respecting elders and all the other boring stuff that Leo learned from his dad’s dojo, Donnie and Mikey were left to fend for themselves with their friends' arguing voices serving as a backdrop like it usually did. Mikey looked up at Don’s particularly well adapted technique for marshmallow roasting and did his best to try to subtly imitate it. By slowly rotating the skewer in his hands, Donnie would undoubtedly get an even roast on his marshmallow and the perfect, ASMR-inducing crunch when he placed his graham cracker on top. Don had been noticeably quiet for the most part, focused on cleaning his glasses after Raph’s earlier ambush. At first Mikey didn’t think much of his quiet demeanor since, at times, this was normal for him; sitting back and listening to everyone else was more mutually beneficial than blabbing on and on about what he did in his gifted extension classes, especially since the only details and stories that Mikey and Raph found interesting included local “hottie-of-a-teacher” Ms. Carlton.

What made this period of quiet different was how glazed over Donnie’s eyes seemed coupled with an unusually tired expression for a day that was supposed to be nothing but fun with friends. There was some sort of tension bearing weight on Don’s shoulders that Mikey wanted to relieve, even if it meant just being a comfort.

“Hey Don, how was your day?” Mikey asked, breaking the turtle from his trance. Donnie blinked a couple of times before pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up a little on the bridge of his nose with his index finger. He made a face, one that expressed some combination of anxiety and unspoken discomfort over being confronted, then tried to shrug it off.

“It was alright. We didn’t do anything like what you or Raph did.” He said. A light smile tugged at the corners of his lips but it still seemed more tired than it did genuine.

"Course not," Raph chimed in. He had broken away from one pointless discussion for long enough to insert himself into another to escape from Major Lieutenant Leo’s endless lectures. "You probably made like, a rocket ship or somethin'. The USS Nerd-Brain, right?” He joked and nudged him with an elbow playfully.

“No, that was last month's project. Today was just final project presentations, everybody had to do one.”

“That’s what you made the solar energy converter thingy for.” Leo acknowledged.

Donnie resisted the urge to correct his terminology and nodded. “Yep, I got the best grade.”

“Then why do you look so uncomfortable talking about it?” Mikey asked. It was the obvious question that had likely been on Raph and Leo’s minds too now that he had drawn attention to it, but Mikey was apparently the only one with the balls to bring it up so nonchalantly as if it wasn’t going to trigger Donnie to metaphorically slink back into his shell and never come back out again.

A silence fell over the group only punctuated by honking horns and distant ambulance sirens. All eyes had turned towards Donnie who was now fully thrust under the spotlight. He swallowed. After about ten seconds with no response from him other than the appearance of the slightest red tint on his cheeks, he cleared his throat and removed his marshmallow from the flame and set it onto his graham cracker.

“It was Grant. You probably don’t know him, he-” He froze in the middle of a thought and sighed through his nose in defeat. “We...got into an argument.”

“Why?” Raph asked, scrunching his nose up in disgust. “Do I gotta hit this kid?”

Don snorted. “No, I handled it myself. Sort of...ish.”

“Sort of? Donnie, what exactly happened?” Leo frowned.

At first he wanted to dodge the question but he knew that the more he put off answering, the more poking and prodding at the subject matter would result. He closed his eyes, scrunching them up really tight while gripping and lightly massaging his nose right beneath the bridge for his glasses. With his other hand, Donnie grabbed his now completed s'more and took a single bite, feeling that sweet, sugary relief wash over him that had notably been absent before.

"I was presenting my project and there was this girl—is this girl, Lucy," He corrected himself. "You probably also don't know her but, she's kinda pretty and—"

“Woah woah, how pretty we talking?” Mikey butted in. His investment in this story had suddenly peaked. “On a scale of “cute” to “total babe”, how would you rank her?”

“Brunette?” Raph guessed. “Not a brunette, okay. Redhead? Blonde?”

“Totally a blonde.” Mikey snorted and gestured towards Donnie’s face, which despite his best efforts was still managing to grow redder by the second from embarrassment. “Am I right or am I right? She’s a blonde, isn’t she?”

Donnie brought himself back into the focus of his own conversation rather than answering what felt like a silly question given his circumstances. "Listen, I'm not her type."

"Says who?" Asked Raph.

"Says Grant, who told me I'm on his turf." Donnie grumbled under his breath.

"What, he knows what she's thinking?" Raph snorted.

“No, but-”

“Then go for it!” Mikey cheered.

“You don’t-”

“Grant isn’t the boss of you Donnie, you should talk to her.” Leo joined in.

There was a faint ringing in Donnie’s head that grew louder and louder the more he listened to their voices merge into one, all chanting for him to do what he felt like he just couldn’t, drowning out his words amidst a sea of voices that were louder and prouder than his was. It was only a matter of time before the feeling of being ignored became too much, and he had had enough. “Don’t you understand?” Donnie snapped. “Grant doesn’t want me on his “turf” because I’m a mutant!” He took a deep breath in, then slowly released it through his nose, to try and calm down. “She probably thinks I’m a freak.”

Everyone paused and yet again another quiet came over them. Mikey’s eyes drifted down towards the concrete beneath their feet, mind busy with thoughts that he had always kept in the back of his mind that were now plaguing him again. He never liked to think about the fact that their status as mutants hindered their ability to find friends or someday fall in love, but Donnie was saying it too. If the smartest one in their little posse was falling prey to the same cycle of thoughts that he often had before falling asleep at night, what did that mean about the validity of those thoughts?

“Do you know that for sure?” Leo asked, breaking the silence with a calm and collected tone that was so characteristic for his zen demeanor.

Don shook his head. “But Grant does. So do his friends, I mean look at me--look at us.”

“So, we’re mutants,” Leo sighed and pulled his marshmallow from the gas flame. It was perfectly toasted to an even golden brown on all sides and oozed out the sides of his s’more when he put another graham cracker on top. “I don’t believe we’re freaks though.”

Raph gave Leo a look, then laughed. “How do you figure?”

“Well, my dad always says that we can create our own truth,” Leo explained, earning an eye roll from Raphael who again seemed caught in a never ending cycle of lectures that Leo picked up from his dad. “So even if Grant thinks that we’re freaks...we have the final say on whether or not we feel that’s true.”

“Yeah, and what if this Lucy chick thinks that he’s a freak too? No offense, Donnie.” Raph said, patting Don on the shoulder in consolation. “You can’t just make that not true, genius.”

“No, that’s not the point,” Leo countered, then turned to Donnie. “What Grant says doesn’t matter because he doesn’t control how we think about ourselves or what you think is true. You do.”

Donnie blinked once. Twice. He looked down at the concrete again and shuffled his feet around beneath him, feeling a little silly that he had wasted his last day of 8th grade feeling gloomy and sad while looking at Lucy with wistful eyes that felt they had no chance on earth of ever meeting hers in a way that wasn’t just as friends. Was what Grant said actually the truth, or was he just allowing it to be the truth like Leo was suggesting? Would it be easier to stay away from Lucy and let Grant take his swing at her then risk a lifetime of heartache if he was rejected by her for being what he was?

Without warning, two arms wrapped around his slumped over shoulders and he looked up from the ground to see that Mikey had gotten up from his squeaky chair and was fully latched onto Donnie’s side.

“Its okay bro, I think you’re pretty awesome.” Mikey mumbled into Donnie’s shoulder.

“Me too, for the record.” Raph joined in, giving Donnie a playfully affectionate punch on the opposite arm.

A sigh escaped through Donnie’s nostrils chased down by a genuine smile. It was a gradual process, but he was beginning to feel a little better. Maybe Lucy did think that he was a freak like Grant had told him, or maybe Grant was just making it all up. His chances weren’t completely gone yet, and he had the whole summer ahead of him to have fun and forget about people like Grant and focus on more important things like science camp, gifted extension applications for the next semester, and then...maybe working up the balls to say something to Lucy.

Yeah, maybe that was what he would do.

#yes that is my oc thats been mentioned #no she doesnt think hes a freak #tmnt #acelikesturtles #tmnt 2014 #tmnt donatello #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2012 #ace is typing... #authoring by ace

[vartouhix]

tanuhwo’deyn : : lust season : : ‘ fertile period ‘

Balahyan women* go through what they call ‘fertile period,’ though the word tanuhwo’deyn literally translates to “lust season.” (Tanu, the word for love, combined with the particle, hwo, that represents similarity or association with the word it’s attached to. Combined, the resulting word means “lust.”**)

Similar to human women, whether or not a Balahyan will have such a period depends greatly on their health. Unlike human women, a Balahyan’s body is much more finicky with it. If the Balahyan is not hydrated enough, has not had enough sunlight or nutrition or sleep, has ingested or inhaled too many pollutants, feels too cold on a regular basis, or her health is otherwise compromised (injury or stress or illness--even something as common as their equivalent of a cold), she will not have a fertile period.

Ideally, a healthy Balahyan woman will have a fertile period once a month. It can last anywhere from 5 days minimum to 12 days maximum. Historically, the original Balahyans valued reproduction, as most of their species was wiped out by their previous overlords. (Another reason rabbits are a sacred animal to them, actually, because they are similar in that regard.) Hence, evolution dictated their fertile period should be somewhat generous in length of time.

So, what are the main symptoms of the fertile period? Every symptom is meant to encourage the woman to be closer to her mate, or encourage potential mates to court/seduce her.

As for what changes take place in the woman, the first thing that will become apparent is that the skin all over her body will be softer, and hold more moisture, giving her a faintly ‘glowing’ or ‘radiant’ sort of complexion. Next, the Balahyan’s respective fragrance will gradually become stronger. Off of fertile period, the fragrance can only be noticed if someone is very close to the Balahyan. (Think like hugging her and burying their face in her neck.) On her fertile period, the fragrance can be noticed in passing. (Think like when a woman with just the right amount of perfume walks past, and you can smell it lingering in the air behind her.) As stated in her profile, Vartouhi smells of tea roses.

Her fragrance is the symptom that affects others. If there is already physical attraction--slight or not--her fragrance acts as somewhat of an aphrodisiac. It’s not strong enough to be considered what fanfiction would refer to as ‘sex pollen.’*** The degree to which it affects others depends on the level of attraction. For example, a stranger that, in passing, thinks Vartouhi is pretty, may start to find themselves imagining her flirting with them, or feel inclined to start an interaction, or, if already in one, prolong the interaction just to be with her a bit longer. For someone that would already be interested in asking her out, whether stranger or not, Vartouhi’s fragrance would probably give them the burst of courageous foolishness to toss their inhibitions to the wind and do it. They would also probably be much more interested in physical contact--even fleeting touches on the arm or shoulder would feel much more satisfying, and yet make them crave to continue to do so. For someone that is 100% attracted to her, and already fully realizes it, it may actually be somewhat of a nuisance. It’s not strong enough to have an intoxicating effect like fanfiction sex pollen does, where the affected person isn’t in their right mind. Instead, it brings that attraction that’s already there to the surface of their thoughts with more frequency. So someone who is low-libido and has a crush on her may just want to hold her all the time, or be sweet and affectionate with her. Someone who is high-libido may find that the urge to back her up against a wall and kiss her keeps hitting them.

It should also be noted that this effect works on both men and women. Though of course, nature intended it to be a means of inducing reproduction, if a woman is attracted to the Balahyan on her fertile period, it will affect that woman just the same.

The next symptoms to appear come around the same time: the hair becomes softer, more vibrant in color, and shinier, and the lips begin to secrete a thin film of oil that tastes vaguely sugary. (Think like a woman wearing the barest amount of sweet-tasting chapstick.) In addition, the Balahyan begins to run at a slightly cooler temperature. (It’s usually at this stage that a Balahyan women not paying close attention to it will realize that they’ve hit their fertile period, as Balah is not typically cold enough to cause them to feel uncomfortably chilly. For Vartouhi, it’s easy for her to confuse the chilliness for just the weather, because of Earth’s fall and winter seasons.)

The next symptoms are more behavioral than anything else. Balahyan women will be more susceptible to their maternal instincts, and to baser desires. You can expect them to be ‘in the mood’ more often than normal--for some who get this symptom particularly bad, they could even be described as ‘insatiable.’ (Vartouhi’s elder sister, Kohar, is one such woman. Vartouhi herself does not get it as bad as Kohar, but she certainly does get it.) Evolutionarily-advantageous attributes are more likely to arouse a woman on her fertile period. (Examples include displays of strength, domesticity, affection with children, the capability to provide for her, and the desire to take care of her.) Balahyan women will also become more needy for physical contact--hugs, cuddling, hand-holding, leaning against her mate, etc.

As for Vartouhi, her anxiety on Balah used to suppress her fertile periods from time to time. On Earth, her fertile periods don’t come with any regularity. The different weather and air pollution are the biggest factors that hinder it from month to month. The longest she’s ever gone without a fertile period was 7 months--back when she first came to Earth, and was constantly struggling with stress, trying to afford food, constantly being outside (as she was homeless) in the pollution and bad weather, getting sick and injured often, and struggling to stay properly hydrated. If she carefully minimizes her exposure to pollution, extreme heat, and extreme cold, and gets enough sunlight, she will have a fertile period that month. But it’s not something she prioritizes (she’s not exactly trying to reproduce), so it’s not something she actively works to make sure of.

*The use of ‘women’ rather than ‘females’ is intentional. Transwomen on Balah can experience fertile periods, though it usually takes longer for them to reach their first. (The body is slower in producing the related hormones, but there are therapies to expedite it if, for whatever reason, the Balahyan wishes.)

**Yes, this does imply that, historically, Balahyans viewed lust as an integral component of love. There are in fact asexual Balahyans, and with more and more interaction, knowledge, and understanding of these somewhat different breed of kin, Balahyans of today don’t truly believe that lust is necessary for every Balahyan to experience love, or that love and lust have to be related at all. Every Balahyan is fully aware that the word tanuhwo, which implies love and lust are inextricably tied, is outdated. However, its use continues because asexual Balahyans view it as such: the Balahyans who use the word probably do require both love and lust for successful relationships. Therefore, it’s accurate for them to use the word, whereas they themselves can simply use tanuos, “love (only).”)

***Sex pollen kind of operates like being drunk and having sex, which obviously hinders true consent. Which is why the fragrance thing is not like that. Not demonizing anyone who likes the kink, but it’s just not something I want to include in my worldbuilding for Balah.

#headcanon #v: my own home #[ FINALLY I wrote it up. Dear Lord. #I've been meaning to make a post on this for forever #since it's pretty important knowledge for anyone who wants to ship with Touhi. ]

[mx-ishikawa]

F/O February Day 17: Coffee Shop AU

okay but honestly the coffee shop AU is freaking perfect for me and Emmet, so here’s a li’l drabble!

It was like something out of a cheesy fanfiction, really. I was just a tired barista at a rather shabby coffee shop, and all the other employees and all the customers that were served were either just as tired and cynical as I was, worse, or simply didn’t give a damn. I genuinely enjoyed working, as it kept my hands occupied and provided me with some sense of purpose; it was the people that I could do without. I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with people in general, the kind of person who wanted friends but also wanted to be left the hell alone, so I was very awkward in social situations. My co-workers were rather dull, taking their jobs way too seriously, and the customers… oh the customers. Best case scenario, they were cooperative, but weirded out by my attempts at friendliness—I learned that the hard way. Worst case scenario, they chucked their scalding hot coffee order directly at my chest and proceeded to scream at me because I didn’t put just the right amount of creamer in it. It wasn’t exactly a dream career, but it paid the bills as long as I lived alone in a tiny apartment. More often than not, it was very drab.

But then, one fine day, as cliché as it sounds…

He walked in.

He entered the shop with a happy bounce in his walk. He was average in height and build, donning orange safety gear. He had short brown hair and a small nose. But what really grabbed my attention was his smile. A wide, white, genuine smile that showed he was happy just to be here. The kind of smile that flowed into the rest of his face, lighting up his big blue eyes and putting a cute rosy blush to his cheeks. That smile lit up the entire shop, a stark contrast to the neutral faces of everyone else present. In a bigger city, he might’ve been nothing more than a face in the crowd, but in this town of dull colors and detached people, he was the breath of fresh air I didn’t even know I needed. I couldn’t take my eyes off him—never before had I seen such a beautiful smile. But when he turned his head in my direction, I found myself quickly averting his gaze. I didn’t want to come off as a creep for staring.

He happily skipped up to the counter, looking up at the menu displayed above with an innocent expression. Oh no, he’s way too cute. I cleared my throat as quietly as I could before addressing him.

“Hello, may I help you?”

“Oh!” The impossibly adorable man snapped out of his daze to acknowledge me. “I’m still looking, thank you.”

“Take your time, don’t rush,” I smiled.

“I think I’m just gonna get my usual, though.”

“Alright, and what would that usual be?”

“A smooth blend medium roast coffee with just a hint of cream and twenty-five sugars!”

I almost choked on nothing in surprise.

“I’m sorry sir, did you just say twenty-five sugars?”

“…Yyyyeah…?” He tilted his head in confusion as if that wasn’t an insane request. Still, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the cuteness of the action.

“Well alright then.” I moved to start brewing the coffee. “Just don’t complain if you get diabetes.”

He giggled at my joke. “Thanks! I’m used to having lots of sugar, so no worries!”

“Good to hear it!” It felt good to act like a normal, friendly human being and not a damn robot for once in my life. Plus, this guy was freaking cute. For the next minute or two, he was silent as he let me prepare his coffee. When I reached for the creamer, I turned to smile at him and spoke again.

“You might wanna watch me pour the creamer and tell me when to stop, because the last time I made coffee with creamer, I had it thrown back at me because it wasn’t the right amount.”

“Oh no, that sounds terrible!” he gasped, hands flying up to his mouth. I shrugged.

“It’s okay, it only hurt for a couple minutes and I’m used to screwing everything up anyway, haha.”

“Aw, don’t say that! I’m sure it’ll be great! Just put a teeny bit of cream in there, and if it’s too much or too little it’s no big deal!” There was that smile again, this time aimed directly at me. This was too good to be true.

“Haha, thanks…” I put a small splash of creamer in and rung him up. “Here ya go!”

“Thank you!” He paid for the coffee and took a small sip. “Mmm, this is awesome!”

“Really? Thank you.”

“No problem!” He stretched out his free hand that wasn’t holding the coffee. “My name’s Emmet, by the way.”

Emmet, huh? That was pretty cute. A cute name for a cute boy. I shook his hand.

“Call me K.”

After that day, Emmet became the shop’s newest regular, as well as my favorite. He typically ordered his usual brew that was more sugar than coffee, but sometimes he switched it up. Sometimes he also got a black coffee for a friend named Lucy. But he always came into the shop with that bright smile and something nice to say. I found out he was a construction worker, and I became flustered upon realizing this wide-eyed innocent could probably lift me up with ease. Thanks to Emmet, I actually looked forward to work. Needless to say, it didn’t take me long to develop a crush on the cutie, and not much longer after that to fall head-over-heels for him. One day, he brought his friend Lucy into the shop with him. At first, I was discouraged—she was so much cooler and more attractive than I could hope to be, and I felt I didn’t stand a chance against her at winning Emmet’s heart. But it turned out she had a girlfriend she simply called “Sweet”, so that put me at ease. Still, it seemed to take me forever until I could make my feelings for Emmet known to him.

“Here’s your sugar—I mean coffee!” I joked to him one day. This made Emmet laugh, something else impossibly cute about him that gave me the butterflies.

“Thanks, K! You always make my coffee extra sweet, just how I like it!”

“Of course! But you know what’s even sweeter than this sugary coffee?” I asked as smoothly as I could, leaning towards him a bit.

“What’s that?” Emmet asked innocently. I smirked.

“You.”

This seemed to catch him off guard. An adorable squeak escaped his throat as a heavy blush rose to his cheeks. “Oh my gosh…” he giggled, raising a hand to his face.

“It’s true. I hope I’m not coming on too strong, but… I really like you. A lot. And… I’d like to get to know you more outside the shop sometime.”

Emmet smiled that beautiful, perfect smile at me.

“It’s a date.”

#my writing #self ship #self shipping #self shipping community #au #coffe shop #self ship fic #coffee shop au #selfship au #f/o february #fictional other february #f/o: Emmet #everything is awesome with you #unrelated but today's my birthday oof

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

halloween special 2019

(Or, Halloween Special 2027, because this is set immediately after Turnabout Academy but contains no reference to it besides the fact that Juniper exists.)

A Fae AU side story. A classic meme of the autumnal season gets a cannibal joke twist, and the real horror story is the friends we made along the way. Written with the profoundest apologies to the professor from whom I took an entire semester course on Edgar Allan Poe. 

----

It still feels like the crack of dawn, after the week they’ve had, but dawn is admittedly later in late October, and the sun is already risen, so it’s not early at all. It’s no one’s problem but Phoenix’s own that his brain is still zombified. Trucy woke him up, flinging her things all around the apartment to get ready to head out: Juniper has joined her trick-or-treating group that already consisted of Trucy, Vera, Jinxie, Athena, and Pearl, and Pearl still doesn’t have a costume, and now neither does Juniper, and Vera hasn’t finished making hers, and it’s T-minus two days until Halloween.

So he scrambled some eggs for his daughter and ushered her out the door after making her promise to say hi to all of the other girls for him, and then he crawled back into bed. Barely three minutes after, his phone rang. That was marginally better than his phone ringing once he had fallen back asleep, but this deprives him of the chance of going back to sleep at all, probably, and actually it’s not better. Phoenix doesn’t know why he thought that. He squints at the tiny screen on his phone to see that an impossible amount of symbols, including what looks like some Japanese characters, a pentagram, and a simplified pixel art hand making a middle finger. 

“Hello, Maya.”

“Niiick! I need you to settle a dispute!”

Phoenix groans. “Between who?”

“Hello.” Iris’ voice comes through as clear as Maya’s, clearer than humans ever are on phone calls. Magical speakerphone. Phoenix drops his face into his pillow. 

“Iris says that the only one of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories to involve cannibalism was his one weird-ass novel that he never finished. But he’s gotta have had more than that right? He strikes me as a cannibalism kinda dude.”

“I don’t know,” Phoenix mumbles into his pillow, and then, resigned to his fate, he lifts his head and repeats clearly, “I don’t know. I’m not the literature guy.” He knows Shakespeare, and what he knows about Shakespeare is that he needs to keep Maya away from it, else she might decide that Puck is a role model. “Iris would have more of an idea than me.”

“Nick! You can’t take your ex’s side over me!”

Iris giggles in the background. “This is an argument about objective facts, Maya,” Phoenix says. “I’m not ‘taking sides’ personally.”

“Okay, but, Montressor was definitely saving Fortunado down there to chill him to a good eating temperature and then have him as a snack with the Amontillado. Like that’s gotta be why he killed him that way.”

That’s one of the few Poe stories Phoenix knows. He can answer this one. “There was no Amontillado,” he says wearily. “That was the whole point of the story, Maya. He lied about having the fancy wine to get Fortunado down to the catacombs because that was the best place to kill him quietly. There wasn’t any cask of Amontillado.”

Maya gasps. “What?” She sounds so betrayed that Phoenix almost laughs and almost feels bad. “He lied? He can’t lie!”

Now Phoenix does laugh. “What, did you think he was fae because elaborately killing someone for some unmentioned slights is a fae thing to do?” She sounds more scandalized at the lie part that the murder part, which, for anyone even slightly versed in fae culture, does make sense. 

“Well—” Maya sputters. “Yeah!” She heaves an exaggeratedly loud sigh. “I guess The Cask of Amontillado really isn’t a story that implies cannibalism.”

“There was other wine in the wine cellar where he walled up Fortunado,” Iris says. “Perhaps one of those would pair with him just as well for Montressor’s meal as you imagine the Amontillado would.”

“You don’t need to patronize me,” Maya says, sounding less irritable than Phoenix expects. “But, oh, Nick, other question! Why would the narrator, obviously possessing greater strength and no morals, not simply eat the old man so as to get rid of his creepy staring eye and better muffle the treacherous tattletale heart?”

“Telltale,” Iris says. Maya groans at the correction.

“Bitch-ass snitch,” Phoenix says.

“No,” Iris says. “Definitely not. Now, to return to the heart of your question, Mystic—”

Maya and Phoenix both snicker. What follows is not a long silence, but it is a loaded one, and then Iris resumes speaking, her clipped tone betraying her annoyance with the inadvertent pun. “The heartbeat was not a real sound,” she explains, “but rather the psychological manifestation of his guilt at committing the murder.”

“Oh,” Maya says. “So it’s like when you want to get coffee you have to have a barista make it and hand you the cup because if you tried to serve yourself from a machine it always explodes back in your face. It’s not the machine that hates you, it’s you who hates you, and the machine is the expression of it!”

“That is…” Iris trails off, clicking her tongue in thought. “Actually, yes, similar, though no one but the narrator could hear the sound of the heart.”

“So he wasn’t fae either,” Maya says. “Otherwise the whole house would’ve been, ba-dum! That they all felt it! And then probably it would explode.”

“Y’know, if he had eaten the old man,” Phoenix says, because sometimes it is fun, a flex of creative muscles he doesn’t usually get to stretch, to play along with Maya when she has her inane musings, “he still would’ve heard the heart beating, right, because it was just in his head. But instead of yelling at the cops that it was under the floorboards—”

Maya knows where he’s going with it immediately; either he knows the way she thinks too well, or she knows him. “—dude woulda been yelling about hearing it in his own stomach. Man, can you imagine? You’re just some beat cop coming in to investigate and then the guy starts shrieking about killing a dude but instead of starting to tear up the floorboards to show you the body he starts trying to claw open his own stomach?”

Phoenix considers that. He decides that yeah, it would be pretty far over on the scale of fucked-up things he’s seen as a lawyer. Sort of like Matt Engarde tearing up his own face in despair and fury, but also way worse because it would involve definite cannibalism and possible disembowelment, depending on how far the narrator got in his attempts. “Yep,” he says. “That’d be fucked up.”

“You could write it,” Iris says. “Poe is public domain, is he not, and you an adult man who could get away with it under the name of ‘literary reimagining’ rather than it being called ‘fanfiction’.”

“No thanks,” Phoenix says. “I’m not gonna be the man who messes with the classics.” He’d pitch the idea to Larry if Larry made his name on literally anything other than wholesome life-affirming picture books. Actually, he still wouldn’t, because Larry is an artist as well as a writer and there’d be a chance that he’d turn it into painting rather than prose and that is a level of horror Phoenix doesn’t want to go to. Better just to stay on the level of Maya reading cannibalism into every horror story that crosses her path. 

(Would Athena call that projection? He is not going to think about that any longer.)

“Glad anyway you could help with our dispute,” Maya says. “Cuz” - she’s never settled on one nickname for Iris, but cousin or a derivation usually means she’s not angry with her - “was getting wistful when Pearly went off to talk shop with all your daughters, so she wanted to get in the holiday spirit and it spiraled. I made it spiral.”

As tends to happen around there. As Maya is wont to do. Phoenix isn’t surprised. He also decides to ignore the “daughters” remark. It’s not worth arguing that Trucy is his only daughter, and okay maybe Vera half counts, but on the other end of the spectrum, he’s known Juniper for not even a week. 

So instead he voices the matter that is bothering him. He’s afraid to speak it into the world lest she hadn’t thought about it, but he also needs to be prepared. “So, Maya,” he begins warily, “you planning on venturing out for Halloween?” 

He’s dreaded this holiday ever since that first year, when she figured out what trick-or-treat meant and decided that this was the most fae of holidays, what with one being allowed to threaten and extort strangers for goodies. It’s more blatant than the fae usually are, even. That first year, he had to keep her entertained and distracted all night, with candy and other sugary sweets and campy movies, so she couldn’t go and fulfill her suggestion of egging Edgeworth’s car as revenge for him being “a huge douchebag to us in court”. She had gotten the eggs ahead of time and stashed them in his fridge so at eleven they made a run to the corner store for other ingredients to teach her how to make omelets. 

“Nah, don’t worry, I’m staying right here. Pearly can have her fun. But you and I are totally on for our post-Halloween bargain bin on-sale candy shopping spree. You’re buying! It’s tradition.”

“Huh?” It happening three years in a row, and then not for the next seven years, does not a tradition make. “Objection!”

“Nope!” She sounds positively gleeful; he can picture exactly what her smile looks like, how wide and toothy. “Ignored! What’s it that judges say again - overruled! You are overruled! And your penalty is reading Poe for a refresher so we can talk about it more! We need to talk about the one with the cat because I can’t decide if the cat is fae! Or even if it’s one cat! I want everyone’s input!”

His phone display shows a pixel jack-o-lantern with a grin in a probable approximation of Maya’s. He drops his head back onto his pillow. “Goodbye, Maya.” 

The second Halloween, they carved pumpkins in the office; Pearl demanded they not have scary faces, Maya ate half of the seeds even before they roasted them, and Phoenix tried not to think about how last year at that time Edgeworth was around that they could consider the prospect of egging his car. When they dropped pumpkin guts on the floor, Mia flung it right back at them to get it stuck in their hair. The third year, they brought Pearl along for candy shopping, too, and she sat in the cart atop a throne of bagged sweets and pointed out clearance decorations she wanted for next year. They’re boxed up somewhere. He should find them for her and the other girls. For next year, or seven years later, it’s not that much of a difference, is it?

“And,” he adds, “I’ll see you in November.” Start anew. “Tradition, right?”

#fae au extras #roddy fanfics #fae au tag #fic: the witches of los angeles #Wolf would you believe i had this concept BEFORE talk started of the poe musical in chat

[emeraldtawny]

Zero x MC: Baby Steps

Request from one of the main reasons I scream over fanfiction: @chiefofthepigs :

May I request something fluffy where Zero finds out that MC is pregnant? ♡        

My brain took this idea and completely ran with it so much so that it turned into a 2k fic oops. I hope you enjoy Zero being his usual adorable self (ft. the rest of the Red Army officers) ;3

“You wanted to see me, my King?”

“Zero. Yes, come in.”

It’s not Lancelot’s request to come to his office that confuses Zero, but rather his lack of reasoning for doing so. Zero stands before the King of Hearts and salutes, eyes of a clear night sky mingling with ones of a striking sky blue. Lancelot produces a small, neatly folded note and pushes it across the desk to the Ace.

“Take this note and follow its instructions to the letter. Is that clear?”

Zero takes the note and nods, “Yes, my King.”

“Good. You may leave now.”

Zero turns and leaves as orderly as he came, completely unaware of Lancelot’s kind, reverent smile as his eyes follow him out the door.

(I hope you enjoy the surprise that waits for you, Zero.)

Now back in the corridor, Zero looks at the note held between his thumb and forefinger. His curiosity needing to be sated, he unfolds the paper and reads.

[“Alice asked us to help her in preparing a surprise for you, hence this note and my likely abnormal behaviour calling you to my office with no reasoning.”]

(___? Hmm, only you would be able to convince our King to do something like this.)

His lips naturally curl at the thought of you, himself hardly aware of the pure radiance of his smile. He continues reading.

[“You are to head to the kitchen and heat up a saucepan of milk, enough for one person. Only when you have done this action will the next clue reveal itself.”]

“A scavenger hunt, huh?” Zero refolds the note and drops it into his pocket as he begins to walk towards the kitchen, “Alright, ___. Now I’m really curious about this surprise.”

The kitchen is quiet as Zero enters it, getting straight to work at abiding by the instructions given to him. Soon the gentle bubbling of milk fills the air, Zero’s thoughts wandering as he reminisces about your first attempts at teaching him some basic recipes. He lets out a breath and his lips curl upward once again at your intrusion into his brain, moving the milk from the stove top to let it cool before pouring it into a glass.

“Took you long enough, Zero.”

Zero turns in mild surprise, blinking at the man standing in the doorframe. The Queen of Hearts was the last person he expected to be standing there, but Zero catches on quick to Jonah’s weirdly bouncy - almost nervous - attitude.

(You even got Jonah on board with this? I’m impressed.)

Mentally praising you, he places the saucepan in the sink before addressing Jonah, “I would guess you have the next clue for me?”

With an awkward clear of his throat, Jonah characteristically produces a similar neatly-folded note with a flourish. However, Zero doesn’t fail to notice the flush on Jonah’s cheeks, his eyebrow quirking at him.

“Ahem! Yes, you are right. Since you’ve heated up this milk for the bab-uh!”

“The what?”

Jonah’s eyes widen to the size of saucers for only a moment before he composes himself with a blink and another clearing of his throat, “Um, hm! I said I will use this milk for the baby mille-feuille that I was about to eat. As such, your reward is the next clue.”

Zero takes the note from Jonah’s outstretched hand - albeit with a hint of scepticism - and walks out of the kitchen. As he leaves, he catches the sound of a heavy sigh of relief and a gentle uttering of “that was close.”. With a muffled laugh, he walks out into the dining hall.

“Oh! Wait, Zero!”

Zero turns to find a small brown paper bag being thrown towards him. He catches it without issue thanks to his astute reflexes, but still blinks in shock. He looks up to see Jonah, his arm extended in what was clearly a throwing motion.

“You’ll need that for the next clue.”

“Uh...okay, thanks.”

Choosing to not question his superior’s behaviour, Zero simply shrugs and walks back out into the corridor. As he leaves, Jonah sighs quietly under his breath and a tiny smile graces his lips.

(___ would have killed me if I ruined the surprise. The Queen of Hearts wouldn’t ruin such a momentous announcement...even if I came really close.)

Once again, Zero opens the neatly folded paper, recognising Jonah’s refined handwriting immediately as he reads.

[“Follow these instructions for your next clue. Head to the courtyard and look for a sitting duck, or three. You’ll need the paper bag as payment if you wish to advance.”]

Zero sighs, picking up on the order of officers he’s progressing through. He pockets the note and heads out into the courtyard, mentally preparing himself for whatever will come from talking to the man in question.

Sure enough, squatting down in the grass surrounded by the calming sound of quacking is exactly who Zero expects. He approaches quietly and simply waits. Within seconds, the Jack of Hearts returns to his feet and meets his protege’s eyes, the glimmer of amusement in his jade pools not missed by Zero.

“Alright, Edgar. I’m here, so where’s the next clue?”

“Oh dear. I hope you weren’t this rude to King Lancelot or Jonah.”

“I have no reason to be rude to them. You, however…”

Edgar chuckles amiably, his hand slipping deftly into his pocket to procure another folded paper. Zero reaches for it, but Edgar steps away from him in response. With a frown and a sigh, Zero reluctantly holds out the paper bag to Edgar.

“Jonah said I needed payment, so here. Give me the clue so I can continue.”

With a sly smile, Edgar places the paper directly onto Zero’s hand whilst simultaneously grabbing the paper bag. Zero already knew its contents without even needing to look and he watches as Edgar grabs a small handful of jellybeans and pops them into his mouth. Zero turns and begins to walk away, reacting none when Edgar speaks gleefully out loud.

“Ah, yes. The wonderful sugary taste of candy. A shame I can only hoard them all to myself for another year or so.”

(What on earth are you talking about?)

Rolling his eyes in clear exasperation, Zero grumbles to himself as he heads back into the barracks. Edgar watches on, the smile on his face heartfelt and genuine.

(I promised not to tease him, and I didn’t. Poor, sweet Zero. I’m disappointed I won’t get to see your reaction when you hear the news.)

Unfurling the paper and reading Edgar’s oddly simplistic, almost childish handwriting, Zero’s eyebrows twitch.

[“My boy Zero is growing up so fast. I’m so extremely proud of you. I hope Jonah didn’t ruin the surprise too much for you. If I were you, I would head to the infirmary - a place that I’m sure you will become very familiar with.”]

Stuck between confusion at Edgar’s note and the desire to just ignore everything written on it because Edgar wrote it, Zero resigns himself and begins making his way to the infirmary. As he reaches the door, he sees exactly who he was expecting to see leaning against it, the sight a relief after dealing with Edgar. Eyes of azure meet those the colour of olives, both men sharing a calm smile and relaxed grin respectively. Kyle pushes himself off the door and rolls out his shoulder casually.

“Hey, Zero. You took your time, huh?”

“Edgar wasn’t exactly the most compliant.”

Kyle grunts, a laugh hidden in the brusque noise, “Yeah, that’s what I expected from him. I don’t plan on keeping ya, so here.”

Kyle digs around in his pocket and grabs a messily folded scrap of paper, the sight fitting for the resident doctor but still grating at Zero’s nerves regardless. After he takes the paper, Kyle pats him on the shoulder and walks past him.

“Congrats, buddy.”

“Huh? On what?”

Kyle doesn’t respond as he continues down the corridor, sparing only a lazy wave of his hand. His patience thinning from Kyle’s words, he unfolds the paper and reads the few words written inside.

[“Go through the door.”]

Not needing to be told twice, Zero twists the door handle and steps inside, his face immediately relaxing at the sight of you sitting on the edge of one of the infirmary beds. He’s in front of you in an instant, wrapping his arms tenderly around your back in a longing hug, your own arms reaching up around his neck to return the gesture. He pulls back, but not before pecking your nose with a soft, swift kiss, his eyes crinkling at the edges in delight at your responding giggle.

“So, what’s this about a surprise you have for me?”

You smile tenderly, removing Zero’s hands from around your waist and stroking your thumbs absently over his wrists. You take a quick breath of reassurance and then meet his gaze, his eyes swirling only with affection and love for you.

“The truth is, I have something very important to tell you.”

Zero’s expression remains neutral, unsure what to expect but understanding well enough that you’re serious. You scooch forward to stand from the bed, a small groan accompanying the ascent.

“Are you still feeling unwell?” His voice holds a hint of worry as he rubs his hand gently down your back.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m going to have to get used to this.”

Zero’s hand stops dead, his eyes widening at your words, “What do you mean? Is that the surprise? Are you...sick? Is that what Edgar meant when he said I’d need to get more familiar with the infirmary?”

You know you shouldn’t laugh at his distress, but you can’t help the small bubble of laughter rising from you.

“No, no. It’s not a bad surprise, at least I hope you don’t think it’s bad.”

With a heavy sigh, Zero pulls you towards him again, his fingers tracing patterns against your hips.

“Please just tell me, ___. So I know whether to be happy about this or not.”

You laugh again, once again removing Zero’s hands from around you and placing them on your stomach. When you speak next, your voice is nothing more than a hushed whisper.

“You’re going to be a dad, Zero.”

Time seems to completely stop in a matter of seconds, Zero’s brain seemingly unable to comprehend what you have just told him.

(Sh-she’s...I’m…)

He stares at you but his mind is elsewhere, still lost to the void of his thoughts, hardly aware of the broken sentences he speaks.

“I’m...so that means...Edgar said I needed to...and Kyle told me...so that’s why Jonah...y-you...”

You can’t help but grin at how effectively one sentence has shut down the brain of the man you love. You squeeze his hands in yours - still resting against your stomach - and he seems to come to, blinking himself back to reality.

“You’re-” He swallows, desperately searching for composure, “-you’re certain? You’re...you’re pregnant?”

You nod, unable to speak for fear of losing your own composure at how perfect this moment is - Zero’s almost childlike curiosity as his hands gently stroke across your belly, his gaze occasionally meeting your own, your heart melting at the beginnings of tears pricking in the corners of his eyes.

One hand moves from your stomach to your cheek, cupping it like one would a frail flower. He leans in, pressing an ethereally gentle kiss against your lips, the pure emotion in it hard to miss. Your collectedness falls apart as soon as he breaks the kiss, the feeling of his fallen tears on your cheeks and the sight of the remnant tears in his own eyes breaking through your resolve to keep yourself together. A choked laugh escapes you and Zero both as you both lean in to rest your foreheads against each other.

“Thank you, ___. I love you. I love you so much.”

Zero speaks his gratitude and irreplaceable love for you over and over like a mantra and you let him, perfectly content to stand in his arms as you both bask in your present happiness and future plans for the bundle of joy who will be brought into this world.

#ikerev #ikerev fanfic #zero #this was really fun to write ngl

[thesinglesjukebox]

CARLY RAE JEPSEN - WANT YOU IN MY ROOM

[7.80]

Give a [10]! or a [4]! We don't care! Anymore! (actually we clearly do care)

Josh Winters: The sound of the heart set aflame. [10]

Tobi Tella: Oh my god. The synths, the sultriness, that goddamn HOOK. Dedicated had a lot of great and fun, pop music, but this comes out of left field in the best possible way. It's one of the most direct and sexy things, she'd ever done. Is this what gay heaven feels like? [10]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Big "looks-up-grinning-like-the-devil" energy: when CRJ sings, "I wanna do bad things to you," the mischief is both inexplicably sweet and dirty. [8]

Michael Hong: "Want You In My Room" might be Carly Rae Jepsen at her horniest, but it's also Jack Antonoff at his least restrained, together making something that's thrillingly giddy. Carly Rae Jepsen drops some of those thinly disguised hints for more straight-forward temptations, coming across as intense where Dedicated erred more towards tepid. There's still room for coyness, with the distorted "want you in my room" bashfully buried in the mix and the way Jepsen's voice brazenly glides across the instrumental on the line "slide on through my window." But most importantly, "Want You In My Room" feels completely uninhibited and absolutely freeing as Carly Rae Jepsen delivers any line with as much of a wink as she desires. [9]

Kayla Beardslee: Pure joy. [9]

Edward Okulicz: Every song that goes by, I find myself enraged by how average I find the average Carly Rae Jepsen to be, and I'm not entirely sure that I'm not jealous of the euphoria she inspires in others. But honestly, she's no Vengaboys, let alone a Paul Lekakis; I believe Jepsen, but I don't buy her abandon. [4]

Alfred Soto: With Dedicated proving an ephemeral listen, "Want You in My Room" does a professional job as any discrete track at isolating her strengths: finding a hook for any title and singing as if any doggerel were Heidegger. The outro sax wipes the smear of the redundant vocoder, suggesting other paths that the arrangement avoids. [4]

Kylo Nocom: Given the runtime and production choices, one would think somebody had went out and decided to parody the style of Emotion with its Wikipedia article and five hours to complete the task. "Want You in My Room" slightly lacks sophistication in both songwriting and in aesthetic: it feels like half of the song is missing by the time the track decides to fade out, and the wonky percussion/clean guitars/fucking SAX are rather ungraceful signifiers of '80s kitschiness, as if hints were taken from Carly's turn with the Fuller House theme song. These tiny grievances immediately disappear once those robot-voices and shouts burst out, an exercise between restraint and shamelessness that's completely undeniable. I didn't register that the vocoded voices were actually saying anything the first few times I heard this, let alone the title, but it's quite sly how that turned out: the most explicit demand of the hook is obscured, leaving "I wanna do bad things to you!" which beats around the bush a tiny bit (thankfully, less embarrassingly than Camila) and additionally gleeful cheers before that lovely inquiry of "baby, don't you want me too?". I'm still frustrated this ends so quickly, but even this doesn't matter when it's the Carly song I've been using to soundtrack the crush-anxiety interludes of my life. Really, this could cut off after the first chorus and still be more exciting than nearly every other song on Dedicated. [8]

Joshua Lu: It's tempting to draw connections between Emotion and everything Carly Rae Jepsen has done since Emotion -- thematically, her work hasn't evolved much since 2015, with her primary concern being PG-13 depictions of love and heartbreak. But Emotion's portrayal of affection was grandiose and imposing, fit for blasting out the windows of your car as you get lost in the streets of LA, while Dedicated's take feels distinctly slighter and more intimate. "Want You In My Room" takes more of its cues from Kiss, if anything -- even overlooking the disco tinges and how that was the first time she worked with Jack Antonoff, Kiss employed intimate lyricism that could verge at times on the diaristic, with songs like "Turn Me Up" and "Curiosity." The song's title, conveyed through Antonoff's phalanx of robots, renders that closeness literally, but that intimacy comes through metaphorically as well, especially with that quintessentially Carly-esque grotesque lyric of "press you to the pages of my heart" and that absolutely filthy request to "slide on through my window." I'll always prefer this mode of Carly, whose depictions of carnal affection feel more genuine and evocative when she's cooing them in your ear instead of bellowing them to the world. Even the outro works for me; the music video helps to explicate that her lover has finally made it to her room, and the bleating saxophone becomes an aural metaphor of whatever the two of them are doing, now that the song has accomplished its purpose. [10]

Will Adams: The discourse around Jack Antonoff and his status as the supposed ingenue behind female pop stars' critical reappraisal is exhausting, mostly because it ignores my biggest gripe with it: the production is bad. As we've seen before, his penchant for vocoders sinks the songs and, in this case, the entire chorus. The rest is his typical beige, vaguely '80s, vaguely '90s, vaguely everything feel, as if those "Dreams" guitars haven't been done better elsewhere. Carly's not off the hook either, with lyrics as empty as "press you to the pages of my heart." The sax riffing at the end would have been nice had it not resulted in a fade-out, which only serves to let you know that no one involved bothered to write a bridge. [4]

Joshua Copperman: That post-chorus is peak Carly - her songs are best when they're anxious but sensual, innocent but winking. But that's the problem with this song, content to be an E*MO*TION throwback when the best cuts on Dedicated ("I'll Be Your Girl," "Everything He Needs") push her sound forward in ways that still remain consistent with her past. Antonoff's on autopilot, lifting his own Tom Petty rip from "Don't Take The Money" for his usual mix of 80s and non-80s signifiers. Singles Jukebox editor and writer Katherine St. Asaph's issue with Dedicated was that Carly didn't play to her fanbase enough. This goes too much in the other direction giving the gays exactly what they want but nothing more. That doesn't mean it's bad, but it's too slight when Carly's beloved for her maximalism. [6]

Andy Hutchins: Fun, frivolous, brisk, and brief in the way so many great pop songs are, and a better spiritual successor to "Africa" in 2019 than Weezer actually covering it. But I will admit that listening to the potential [3] or [15] that would have been CRJ riffing on Rye Rye's spin on Vengaboys was deeply distracting. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: "Want You In My Room" is the worst kind of song to write about: so self-evidently joyful and skilled in every aspect (those synths!! that sax solo!!) that it's hard to point at any one thing to analyze. Is it enough to just say that the song is the best execution of crush pop in the catalog of an artist who is the queen of crush pop? Is it enough to say that I listen to the song in the shower and my morning walk to class? Is it enough to say that this song (and really, the whole starting run of Dedicated) is an excellent soundtrack to a roadtrip with the one you love? I don't know, and I don't quite know how to express how good it is that Carly Rae Jepsen is around and making music like this, but I hope this helps. [10]

Jackie Powell: Carly Rae Jepsen knows her base just as well as she knows herself. All of the elements of "Want You in My Room" confirm that."...And I'll press you to the pages of my heart" in the pre-chorus proves how Jepsen simultaneously views love and her music. She loves fantasy and probably adores fanfiction (Does anyone have confirmation on this?) "I think I like when people look at music from a way that's this childlike magical thing that happens to us," she said at Electric Lady Studios recording her Spotify singles session. She has made it her brand for the nerds who love love--but struggle to capture it-- feel at home with the awkwardness and desire that they feel inside. Jack Antonoff knows how to extrapolate Jepsen's inner feelings and give them a sound; the track begins with three different percussive loops which symbolize the racing heartbeat of sexual and romantic excitement. The aforementioned Spotify session version of the cut further echoes the idea that this song is an orgy that would take place at a campfire for young adults. (I guess I just described Woodstock. Imagine Woodstock in 2019...oh wait.) She proves once again that both fantasy and desire are natural and shouldn't be a source of any shame. [8]

Vikram Joseph: There's probably not much that my 11-year-old self has in common with me right now. But I remember getting up an hour before school to listen to the radio, and the way that I would lose myself in pop music and it would carry me through the day, painting the cyclical banalities of breaktime and double chemistry in weird, vivid colours that I didn't fully understand back then. And it's not so different to the way that I respond to it now; the way that caffeine and Dedicated made my commute shimmer and glow on sticky mornings this summer. For me, "Want You In My Room" has been the album's febrile, halcyon peak from the start - a high-camp maximalist fantasia of love and lust, the rare ecstasy of uncomplicated desire played out in a technicolour dreamscape of synths, vocoders and sax solos. It took four months for it to acquire a music video, but there must have already been a million existing in our imaginations, us as the stars, cameras panning as we walk down streets as flamboyantly as our queer little hearts dare to. It's garish, sugary and barely sounds real, and that's fine - because great pop is escapist, always has been and always will be, and "Want You In My Room" makes me believe I can have it all (even if it's fake). [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Carly Rae Jepsen #pop #music #music review #writing

[unwillingadventurer]

K and C’s fanfiction challenge

A fic to make someone laugh  smile

One, Ian, Barbara, Susan and fluffiness (and sweets!)

Bursting through the TARDIS doors, carrying bags of shopping, Ian, Barbara and Susan stopped to join the Doctor at the console.

The Doctor was astounded by the number of items. “Dear me, have you bought the entire contents of that 20th century emporium through my doors?”

Susan twirled on the spot in delight before running over and kissing him on the cheek. “Oh Grandfather, it was wonderful! Clothes and knick-knacks from every decade of that fabulous century.”

The Doctor snorted. “Fabulous hmm? Two world wars might go against it, child.”

“Every century no doubt has its problems, Doctor,” Ian said, “just ask Barbara.”

Barbara stopped rummaging through her bag and looked up. “And that’s because I’m a history teacher not because I lived through them all…” She paused. “Although, maybe I have now!”

The Doctor chuckled. “Well, show me what you all spent my money on then.”

For the next few moments the travellers emptied all their bags all over the floor until the console room resembled some kind of market. Susan’s pile mainly contained clothes and make-up but there were also books and a yo-yo and a small music player called a ‘Walkman’. Barbara’s pile predominately consisted of books and things that reminded her of her home in the 1960’s. Ian’s pile was mostly games and technology.

“What on earth is that, dear boy?” the Doctor said, peering at a small circular gadget in Ian’s hands.

“Not sure exactly. They called it a ‘Tamagotchi’ and whatever it is, it’s already died.”

“A child would have loved it in there,” Susan said excitedly. “We even visited the sweet aisle which had sweets from all eras.”

Ian took out a small white bag and placed one of the sweets in his mouth. “I’ve missed these, Doctor- Liquorice Allsorts.”

The Doctor helped himself and placed one of the allsorts into his mouth. It had a weird bobbly texture and tasted quite strong. He grimaced. “Terrible. Anything more edible?”

“Try one of my parma violets,” Barbara said, placing a small purple sweet into the Doctor’s palm.

He crunched on it and again he grimaced, spitting the sweet into his handkerchief. “Good gracious, that’s even worse than the first one!”

“Sherbet dib-dab?” Ian offered but the Doctor turned his nose up. In fact, he wasn’t entirely convinced that Chesterton was saying real words.

Instead he made his way over to another giant bag of sweets and pulled out one in the shape of a flying saucer. “What is this?”

“It’s a flying saucer obviously,” Barbara told him. She was revelling in the fact she knew something the Doctor didn’t.

“Oh yes, my dear, I forgot you humans imagined that aliens actually travelled around in ridiculous shaped ships like this.”

“Ah, but the real ones don’t melt in your mouth do they Doctor?” Ian said.

“What about a jelly baby?” Barbara said as she held a yellow bag under the Doctor’s nose.

“What are they?”

“Exactly what they sound like,” Ian smirked.  He took one from Barbara’s sweet bag and bit into it. “Oh dear, his heads come off.”

Susan also reached for one of the sweets and scooped out a green one, biting into it and smiling. “Lovely flavour. I bit off his arm, Grandfather.”

Barbara selected a red one. “The colour disguises this one’s blood as I go for the leg!”

They all laughed.

“Grotesque,” the Doctor mumbled under his breath.

 Barbara put her arm around his shoulder. “Doctor, why are you trying so hard not to enjoy the 20th century? Yes, it was terrible in some ways but it also offered many wonderful simple things and what’s not better than eating sweets with your loved ones?”

He looked at her and smiled. Once again, the wise words of Barbara Wright had made sense to the old man and he chuckled. “Very well, I shall try and be less critical, pass me one of those jellied babies.”

Barbara placed a yellow one in his hand and he put it into his mouth, chewing immediately on the sugary treat.

“Verdict?” Ian said, unable to read his expression.

The Doctor finally swallowed the sweet and grimaced yet again. “Sorry, I’m just not sure I could ever get the taste for those. Any of those delicious boiled sweets instead?”

Barbara handed him one from her lucky dip bag. “I think there’s one here but you be careful Doctor, they’re very hard. They’ll pull your teeth out if you’re not careful.”

“Nonsense, my teeth are far stronger than yours, my dear. I haven’t visited a dentist in 300 years.”

Ian and Barbara glanced at one another. Did he really say what they thought he said?

Susan laughed and rushed over to her pile of things on the floor. “Oh Grandfather, I almost forgot, I got you a present.”

With a stiffening of his back and a puffing of the chest, the Doctor waited patiently for her to bring the gift to him. He wondered what it could be. He unwrapped it from a sheet of paper and held it in his hands.

“It’s a mug for my drinks,” the Doctor said with a smile. “How thoughtful, Susan.”

“You’ve got it the wrong way ‘round, read the text.”

The Doctor turned the mug around and written in bright blue letters was ‘World’s Best Grandfather’. He smiled momentarily before it turned into a frown. “Of course, there’s just one thing wrong with it.”

 “What’s that?” Susan sounded disappointed.

Ian folded his arms, unimpressed by his attitude. “Doctor, I think Susan’s gift was very thoughtful.”

“I was simply going to say Chesterton, that the only thing wrong with it is that I’m surely the universe’s best Grandfather?!”

Susan hugged her grandfather tightly and giggled. “Grandfather, you’re the sweetest.”

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#k and c fic challenge #was going to do a comedy but ended up just doing fluffy