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petnews2day · 1 year

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Guide to refinancing your home loan – Forbes Advisor Australia

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Guide to refinancing your home loan – Forbes Advisor Australia

As interest rates soar, Australians are looking for a better deal on their loan. Here’s what you need to know about refinancing your mortgage.

Record numbers of Australians are refinancing their home as the Reserve Bank of Australia continues to hike up rates from record lows at the beginning of the year.

Figures from the Australian Bureau of Statistics reveal that $17.9 billion in loans were switched to an alternative lender in the month of July, with this figure likely to grow as the cost of living continues to rise and people pay greater attention to their biggest monthly expense: their mortgage.

If you’re contemplating refinancing your home loan, the good news is that it’s a much simpler process than you might think.

Refinancing can be worthwhile if you are able to find a better rate with an alternative lender, or if you want to increase your existing home loan to withdraw some equity from your home.

So, stop paying loyalty tax—which is the price you pay for being loyal to your lender— and instead make the time to see if you can get a better deal in the market.

Best Interest Rates Available

Interest rates vary between lenders, so do your homework. The Reserve Bank of Australia raised the cash rate by 50bps to 2.35% in September, which is the third rise in three months. This has bought the cash rate to a level not seen since January 2015.

Interest rates across most of the lenders are hovering around 3.6% but even .1 of a percentage reduction can make a big difference if your mortgage is significant.

The lowest home loan rate in the market at the time of writing was 3.50% with Goulburn Murray’s Credit Union’s Fixed Rate Loan.

When shopping around, make sure you look at the comparison rate, which is usually published alongside the variable rate. A comparison rate takes into account not only the interest rate but any fees you will pay as part of the loan package, so reflects the actual cost of the loan. An interest rate offer, with a high comparison rate, is not a great deal as it means the true cost (the comparison rate) is much higher when fees and costs are factored into the loan.

Some borrowers prefer the certainty of a fixed home loan, which, as the name suggests, refers to a static interest rate during a fixed-rate period. Some people opt for a bet each way: fixing part of their loan for a period, and keeping the remaining loan on a variable rate.

Others opt to refinance to digital loans, or neobank loans as they’re called n Australia, which offer competitive rates and a simple online application process but are best suited to borrowers with a straight-forward loan and not a complex set-up.

There’s no hard right or wrong when it comes to a fixed or variable home loan. You will need to do your own risk assessment based on your situation.

However, be aware that if you choose to make changes to your loan agreement, you could be stung by fees.

Before you Switch Loans

Before you do anything, pick up the phone and ask your current lender for a better deal. Let them know that you’re thinking about switching, and that to keep your business, you would need a lower rate.

Let them know where you’re looking at moving to, the lower rates on offer and how much the fees are compared to what they’re offering so you’ve got some bargaining power.

How successful this strategy is will depend on a few things. For starters, the size of your debt, and how much equity you have in your home.

Your credit score will also impact your ability to negotiate, so do a quick check on your current score before you pick up the phone.

One advantage of asking your bank to lower your interest rate is that you are spared the hassle of having to go through the refinancing process: your loan package, with all its bells and whistles stays the same, only your interest rate changes. They may also want to charge you a fee for the administrative burden of changing your rate, but many consumers have successfully requested these fees be waived and so should you.

Other Home Loan Features to Consider

There’s plenty of other things to consider before making the decision. For example, when you refinance, you will need to go through a formal application process with a new lender. If you’re in a worse financial situation, you could be knocked back, particularly given that lenders are tightening up their lending criteria amid the tougher economic conditions.

If you haven’t been with your current lender for long, you may not have paid down enough of your mortgage to reduce your loan-to-value ratio (LVR). Given that lenders prefer borrowers with LVRs below 80% for competitive home loans, switching lenders may not be available to you.

Your loan term also comes into play here. If you don’t have long left to pay off your home loan, bear in mind that a new lender may put you on a longer loan term, meaning you are tied to debt for longer.

Decide whether you feel more comfortable with a larger bank, or a smaller digital lender, and what the advantages and disadvantages are for each. You may also wish to talk to a mortgage broker for help.

Steps to Refinancing your Home Loan:

Shop around and see what’s available on the market. Make sure you talk to a few lenders you’re interested in switching to, and find out if they are prepared to take on your debt.

Once you’ve chosen your preferred option, you will need to go through a formal application process. This means digging out details about your income, assets, liabilities and expenses. The lender will then prepare the paperwork for you to sign.

Once you’ve been approved, your new lender lets your current lender know that you’d like to be discharged from the existing loan. Bear in mind that the new lender may want to conduct its own property valuation on your home.

Once your new lender has shared the date of settlement with your current lender, you will be given a final pay-out figure. Make sure you take the time to go through the documents to make sure there are no nasty surprises.

Your new lender will pay out your old loan and set you up in their system, with new documentation sent to you so you can start making repayments.

Don’t Forget the Fees

You’re going to want to get across the fees involved in refinancing. Here’s some of the likely costs you’re going to be up for, so make sure you add it up and decide whether the savings you’re going to make in the long term are worth it:

Discharge fee: Your current lender will charge you a fee to exit the loan contract, which is usually around $300 or $400.

New application fee: The new lender may charge a fee for the paperwork, usually around $500. Some lenders won’t charge anything in order to secure your business.

Mortgage registration fees: This state government fee to register a new mortgage is usually around $100.

Insurance fee: If you purchased your home with a deposit less than 20%, the original lender would have charged you Lenders Mortgage Insurance. Your new lender could charge you this fee again, which could be tens of thousands of dollars. This is important to ascertain at the start of the process.

Early exit fee: You signed a contract, so there will be a fee to break that. Known as an early exit fee, this fee, also known as a ‘break fee’ will be determined by how long you’ve been with the lender. Again, this fee is important to understand before you consider refinancing elsewhere.

It’s worth noting that as competition for mortgagees heats up, banks are going above and beyond to prevent customers from refinancing and to lure new mortgagees. Many of the above fees are up for negotiation, so shop around to see what your new bank will cover for you on your behalf.

FAQs

Does refinancing start your loan term over?

Unless you want it to, refinancing generally speaking doesn’t reset the repayment term of your loan. Instead, it replaces your current loan with a new loan of the same length. For example, if you have 15 years left on the 25-year loan, then the new mortgage after refinancing will reflect that same timeline and will not revert to 25 years. However, some people opt to change their loan term as part of the refinancing process, either lengthening it to pay less off each month (however, you will usually pay more in the long run) or shortening it so that you pay more each month but pay off the loan term sooner.

Is it good to refinance your home loan?

Only if it will save you money in the long run. Make sure you do your homework and understand all the costs involved in leaving your current lender, and how that compares to the savings of joining a new lender on a lower rate.

How do I refinance a home loan with the same bank?

If better loan terms have become available with your current lender, you should enquire about refinancing and what fees are involved. Your current lender will be able to help you with this process and may be able to simply lower the interest rate on your current home loan product, rather than shifting you across to a new home loan. They may wish to charge fees for this, but many banks and lenders will waive these fees on request. If you’re after different home loan features, such as an off-set, you will need to shift across to a new home loan.

When should I refinance my loan?

There’s never a right or wrong time here. It depends entirely on what else is available out there, and whether the costs involved in refinancing make it worthwhile to switch.

Can I refinance if I am on a fixed rate?

It is possible to refinance a fixed rate mortgage. But because you’ve entered into a fixed term (which is usually between one and five years), and you signed a contract at the time, there will be financial penalties. These vary between lenders, so make sure you know what you’re in for.

What is a digital home loan?

A digital home loan, or ‘neobank’, is a lender that operates solely online, with the main benefit being a streamlined and simple application process. They generally offer a competitive interest rate on many occasions, but are best suited to borrowers after a straight-forward home loan without added features. CommBank has recently moved into digital loans with its Unloan product. Do your homework before you sign up to neobanks to ensure the loan suits your needs.

#Pet Financial News

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hey-hamlet · 3 years

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The SCP AU has only been mentioned ONCE but I’m already thinking about it! AU where sometimes, children have anomalous abilities and attributes. They may be showing it of to their classmates. They may be desperately hiding. They may not be of this world. They might not even notice it. But there is a foundation that calls them SCPs, and it wants to steal them away to a place of cold cells, calculating researchers, and containment. Where they will never see the light of day again. That is, if they don’t succumb to their own powers or get killed by some other SCP. But if they are careful, and brave, and in need… a door will open.

those doors lead to UA! And UA isn’t just a high school. It’s also a research center, a college, a middle school, an elementary, AND a preschool. Anything a lost child could need while they learn who (what) they are and what they can do. SCPs get a basic curriculum for whatever dimension they plan to live in, plus the skills (if possible) needed to blend in- the courses offered are varied. Most move to a more accepting place (three Portlands is a popular destination). They can also choose to live permanently in UA, as staff. Adults… can SOMETIMES get in. If they’re lucky. And Nedzu is looking for new employees. (parents of young anomalies might get an exception)

UA is… if a place could be the definition of “reinforced”, that would be it. The main building gets, well, destroyed or blown up every now and then, but it always puts itself back together by sundown. Reality benders find the locally reality to be unusually… stiff. Unbendable. It has separate buildings for each school level, student dorms, staff apartments, Several massive underground bunkers, all the regular stuff. A few gyms open up into seemingly indefinite planes of grass, for especially dangerous SCPs to practice.

As for where UA is… nobody can tell if it’s a pocket dimension or a parallel world, but across the wall is a view of regular Japan. Getting close to the walls is impossible- you simply find yourself on the other side of the property, or right where you started. Students have attempted to cross reference the view of “regular” Japan to events happening in REAL Japan, and things don’t quite match up! Some swear they’ve seen Nedzu exit the front gates and return with a little bag of groceries, but he’s probably just messing with them. Maybe.

As for the price… Nedzu is a little fey-like when it comes to the price. A student can pay back tuition as a no-interest loan, but most are encouraged to instead become alumni- basically pledging to protect UA and its students in any time of need. Protecting can mean many things, from obtaining critical resources to infiltrating oppositional groups to straight up serving as Nedzus own private (hero!) army. (1/3)

Random character backstories:

Eraserhead has the ability to drag halt abnormal things. But if he stares for long enough, he will bring ALL things back to normalcy- a grimoire becomes a book. a teleporter is forced to walk. A god becomes a man.

Of course, living in normal society, he had no idea. But one day his friend came to school nervous and excited and pulled off his hat and his hair was made of mist!! And he could make little clouds!!! And Shouta thought it was some crazy prank, but he went along with it. Until lunch time when a bunch of strange men in black robes with guns and tattoos all over their faces broke into school! They demanded to have “the missing link”, and then they blew up a hallway and people were screaming, and then black ooze was dripping from the walls and blood was dripping out of their eyes and they killed someone. and then helicopters were landing outside and different men in white were running in and shooting back and the cafeteria ceiling collapsed and the sky was RED and someone grabbed Shirakumo and tried to drag him away but Yamada started yelling except he was SCREAMING and the ground was shaking with his voice and his mouth was too wide and the building started to collapse and this is all TOO MUCH and this is ILLOGICAL and WRONG and Shouta grabbed his friends and ran for an exit but Shirakumo turned around to throw a cloud over a kid under a falling wall and Shouta and Yamada fell forward and the door shut and there was a little white mouse in a tuxedo and Shouta.

Blacked out.

Tokoyami bought a fake grimoire on eBay and accidentally summoned a real demon to his soul

Recovery girl wasn’t hired by Nedzu, she just showed up one day on UA grounds to heal. Sometimes she mentions ancient history like it was yesterday.

Ectoplasm is a ghost. Like, a dead guy. Nedzu had his grave, dirt and all, moved to one of the apartments so he could “haunt” (teach) at UA.

Shoto is the son of a high ranking manager in the SCP foundation. Endeavor very much does not believe in sympathy for SCPs, and he made that clear when Shoto was locked up.

Hawks is a first responder to attacks on UA, due to his ability to “fly” between dimensions. He is also somewhat overworked.

Iida didn’t need rescuing- his parents are well respected alumni so he and his brother got in free. Having practically grown up there, he is among the few who NEVER get lost no matter how many times the school rearranges itself. Some kids joke that he is one of the many robots that keep UA functional.

Ashido ate an entire packet of Wondertainment® ExTrA sOuR gummy worms.

(2/3)

A bonus Crack backstory- the SCP UA is situated right in the regular BNHA world. Nedzu grew up in a lab like normal, but he never escaped. He just… popped out of existence one day. Twenty years later he returned, older, wiser, impossibly powerful. He sniffed the air, wandered Japan like a little cryptid, and finally found a nice hill in the woods. The next day… UA sprouted like a sunflower fell from the sky unfolded from the wrong dimension materialized from nothing APPEARED, and everyone aptly freaked out. Heroes stood guard as scientists and researchers poked and prodded at the walls, but nobody could get through the barrier. The people inside are weird and wrong but don’t seem to notice them, or even the occasional nearby villain battle. Even all might tried to break through, decades later, when he spotted a little girl get decapitated (she’s fine), but UA simply isn’t of this world. The main cast goes to Ketsubutsu, I guess. And if there are rumors of doppelgängers, of heroes swearing up and down that they saw themselves (but WRONG) inside The School, well. Those are just rumors.

!! Everyone read this this is so good!!

#asks #bnha au #scp children au

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simpsiren · 3 years

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the lookalike;

Huang Renjun, astronomy major. He’s your typical college boy. Responsible, in between average to top in the smartness level, outgoing but wouldn’t bother talking to you if you never approached him. He is however playful and gets violent with his friends very often, verbally and physically. But you wouldn’t know he’s that type of person at first glance. He’s simply soft and kindhearted— if you don’t push his buttons like how his friends do 24/7.

description. What’s worse than having to go though the sufferings of a broken heart from my relationship of five years? Having to get myself tangled up with another man right after, when all I wanted was to sit alone, carry myself through the pain. But when mindless words start to slur out when you’re wanting to simply be done with life, you can’t really do anything about it, now can you? It depends on how the person you said it to interpreted it. And my words just had to be taken seriously.

genre. strangers to lovers, fluff, angst

word count. 8k~

!as they should masterlist!

Tears had been blurring my vision for who knows how long now. I didn’t even know where I was walking. I simply let my legs carry my body, letting it have a mind of its own and deciding where to take me. I wanted to escape, go anywhere but here. Where he lived, where he worked, where he went to school.

Right, on a Sunday night, here I was, walking like a lifeless corpse that just had its life being sucked out when I got dumped from my five year relationship. Of course my heart was shattered into pieces. But right now I didn’t have the energy to pick up each shard that fell. It would take forever. I’d start, just not tonight. I’ll pick myself up quick. All I needed was a night’s rest.

Surprisingly enough, I ended up at a café, or bar. Seemed to be both. Either way it was the only shop which had its lights shining on the pathway through the glass windows that gave me a full view of the inside. There weren’t many people inside, perfect place for me to cry out in one corner. Not that I’d be embarrassed if people were to look at me. I wouldn’t be coming here again anytime soon.

I silently pushed open the door and tiredly slid myself through, not even having the energy to push open the door fully. I scanned my eyes across the place, spotting a table made for two at the very corner, where it was slightly dim due to how deep in it was. I chose to seat there. I threw myself onto the seat and slumped my back into it, letting my body loose and have my head dangle feely looking down as I closed my eyes for a brief moment, thinking “Just how low do I look right now?”

A cough was suddenly heard from beside me in an attempt to get my attention. I shot my head up so fast it almost gave me whiplash. “Do you want to buy anything?” I blinked at the man before me twice. Once at his face that I couldn’t get a clear view of, and the other to his hands that held a notepad. I rubbed my forehead, softly answering, “Is there anything that’s like alcohol but isn’t?” I could tell he already looked confused at my request, his head tilting to the side a few degrees. “I’m sorry?”

I waved a lazy hand at him. “Um...” I trailed off, trying to think of something. “You know what? Get me anything that’ll knock me out in two shots.” I blankly said, giving up on even having to choose what drink I wanted. He hummed and downshifted his head. “Alright.” He walked away soon after. But I knew he had his eyes scanning me up and down for a brief moment, inspecting me before doing so. I sighed and looked out the window. I closed my eyes, the tears falling down yet again. I didn’t bother to wipe a single tear away, admitting and claiming that they’re all mine despite knowing my pride would have never allowed that.

After a few minutes, I was shocked by the knocking on the table. I fluttered my eyes open, seeing the reflection of me as well as the man from just now standing behind me with a cup in his hand. I slowly turned around, my eyes trailed from his shoes all the way to his hair. He seemed to have a small figure. But with that face I’m sure no one would even care about that. He cracked a soft smile and placed the cup down on the table. I looked down into the cup, the reflection of myself making me scrunch my nose. “I didn’t order tea.” I whispered, pointing my finger at it yet keeping my head down.

“But you look like you shouldn’t be drinking.” I tilted my head up to look at him, who had his arms folded and weight placed on one leg. “Do I look that bad?” I gulped, running a hand through my hair with a tired sigh that could go on for three days. “Rough night?” He asked, suddenly pulling the chair from the opposite side to take a seat in front of me. Pulling himself closer to the table, he raised a brow, waiting for my answer. I opened my mouth, yet words couldn’t come up as I looked around the place. “S-Should you even be sitting right now?” I asked with concern.

He shrugged and glanced at his watch for a brief moment then proceeding to lean back into the seat. “Well I can rest unless more customers come, which I highly doubt. It’s Sunday after all.” I chuckled at the last part, nodding my head agreeably. “Yeah... Sunday night.” I reminded myself mentally that I had classes tomorrow. I could only hope I’ll wake up in time. Silence pursued its course between us, with me having my gaze down to the cup of tea, for some reason I wasn’t feeling the urge that I got when coming here. I just wanted to sulk and sink deep into my despairs.

“Drink. You seem to need it.” I sighed quietly and picked up the cup, hands shaking unintentionally from my weakness as I tried to steady my hands more and bring the edge of the cup of my lips. I carefully took a sip. It wasn’t too hot, nor too cold. It was just right. It was the one thing in this cold night that had brought some warmth down my throat and to my heart. Temporary warmth. I could deal with that. “What’s your name?” I suddenly questioned. I figured if he’s going to sit here longer and he needed to then it was best to start a conversation.

“Huang Renjun. Second years in college.” The familiarity of the name rang through my ears. I narrowed my eyes on him, now trying to take a better look at the features of his face. My eyebrows furrowed for a moment as I leaned back and closed my jaw shut before it had time to drop to the floor. “Renjun?! The Huang Renjun?” I echoed, blinking my eyes rapidly as if all the tiredness had escaped my body. He chuckled softly and nodded. “Took you long to recognise me.”

I laughed in embarrassed and hummed. “Sorry about that. Guess I really am not feeling well.” I ran a hand down my face, shaking my head. “I didn’t know you work here.” I began. “I didn’t know you worked at all.” Renjun leaned forward against the table, shoulders raising as he did so. “You never knew because you never been off campus before, now have you?” Renjun tilted his head, a playful and teasing smile dancing on his lips. I frowned. “My major’s a lot harder than yours.” I feigned exasperation and rolled my eyes, making him cover his mouth politely as he laughed.

“I know.” Renjun muttered. “So?” He asked. I raised a brow in a questioning manner. “So what?” Renjun smacked his lips, raising both eyebrows at the same time and letting then fall back down. “So why did you suddenly come here this late into the night looking like a wreck?” I breathed out a short laugh, one that wasn’t suppose to send humour but more of disappointment and sadness. If I had the opportunity to talk it out, might as well take this chance to, no matter who it was I was telling it to. “I broke up with my boyfriend, Kim. Last night.” I gulped. “Well, it’s more of him dumping me.” I shrugged weakly.

Renjun’s silence made me observe him for a moment. He was expressionless, but his eyes were sending feelings of pity, one that I for one didn’t want to see, but I can’t avoid it anyway. “Why did he dump you? Did you do anything wrong?” I scoffed loudly, glancing sideways before laughing in amusement. “What are you, my therapist suddenly?” I asked, expecting him to ask for full details on the whole story. Renjun curled the side of his lips upwards ever so slightly. “I don’t mind if I get paid.” I laughed and shook my head, taking another sip of tea. The weight in my body was slowly lessening the more I talked to Renjun, my body began to feel lighter. I know a feeling like this would only be for tonight, just having to sit here and have a normal conversation about my situation without falling apart.

I proceeded to tell the story from square one, how I met Kim, to going sidetracked a little by describing how perfect of a boyfriend he was but I was simply blinded by my own love for him to realise his toxicity until the very end. Bad choice, of course. “And look at where that got me.” I closed my eyes for a short moment, my memories with him flashing by like a movie tape. It disgusted me, but it also made my head ache in many ways but one. I hated it. “It doesn’t seem that bad.”

I widened my eyes, surprised at his reply. “What do you mean?” Renjun ruffled his hair casually as he said, “You got to meet me.” Renjun played a confident smile, which only seemed to be charming. Though Renjun and I never met in a proper setting, we were mere acquaintances, one that would see each other on campus often and nothing more. But this was the start of our relationship.

We talked for hours, I had forgotten about time completely. Topics changed like flickering lights and varied in the most weirdest ways possible. I slowly grew tired, my brain working slowly with its gears getting weaker. I had my head on the table, the emptied cup pushed to the side against the clear window. I had my eyes half opened at this point, I wasn’t even able to think straight as if I actually did get drunk. “Do you want to help me?” I softly murmured. Though I think it was only for my ears, it was loud enough for Renjun to let out a, “Hm?”

“Help me...” I whispered, slightly louder this time. “Help me get this shit show over and done with.” I couldn’t hear his reply, but I was fast asleep the second after.

“I said that?” I asked, not sure if I was directing it to myself or to Renjun who was just coming with two cups of coffee, so surprised that I leaned back with a hand to my chest. Renjun sat down and nodded his head. “How could you not remember? It’s not like you were drunk last night.” I scoffed softly. “From how sad and dead I was last night, it kind of felt like I was.” I whispered, quickly taking a sip of the coffee in hopes to got myself to wake up a little.

My mood had still been feeling the same as last night the moment I woke up today. My heart was still heavy, it didn’t allow my body to loosen up. I was dragging my existence from place to place I was that lifeless and mentally drained from that one night my heart fell apart. “Well first order of business. No going to classes for a week.” I almost wanted to drop the cup then and there, but I held it firm and place it down, the noise from it making contact with the table loud and clear. “Woah I’m sorry what?!” I asked in shock.

Renjun’s expression was unbothered by my reaction. “You heard me right.” Renjun took a sip. “You’re physically and mentally drained. It doesn’t take a sidekick to see that. So just rest for awhile, and we can hang out in the meantime.” He shrugged and leaned back into his seat, shoulders relaxed and calm. “Don’t you have classes too?” Renjun smiled gently. “Haechan told me you guys start your lectures after mine which means I can still go without missing any.” I lips formed an ‘O’ as I nodded slowly. How did he know Haechan? That I questioned mentally. I did know Haechan practically has connections with the whole school somehow.

“But if you insist on going I don’t mind waiting for you at your department building.” Renjun raised his eyebrows. “But don’t take the lectures seriously for awhile, you know? Loosen up a little. Cheat, steal notes or something. Just have time to rest. The breakup really has hit you hard, huh?” Renjun eyed me up and down, not in a scrutinising manner, but it really did felt like one with a gaze like his. “Woah are you seriously telling me to do things you would never do?” I gasped loudly. Renjun bobbed his shoulders. “I mean I would do it if I wasn’t keeping my good student image. But I don’t see you having that much so.”

I rolled my eyes. “Rude.” Renjun chuckled. “I should be going for class now. See you at four?” Renjun quickly stood up, grabbing his bag from the other chair next to him. After he reassured that he had everything with him, he made eye contact with me. “See you.” Renjun downshifted his head, his lips curling up to form a smile that not going to lie, looked cute. But I quickly shook that thought out of my head before it could get any deeper.

The day went by. All I had my mind on was my ex, but my focus was slowly shifting to Renjun as time passed. Why did I even meet him in the first place? What was the purpose of someone who was of no significance in my life would suddenly be playing a big role in me wanting to get over my heartbroken phase? Questions like these circled and wrapped itself around my brain. So much so that I couldn’t properly concentrate during the lecture, which had me asking Haechan for notes just like how Renjun suggested me to.

I was making my way to the entrance when I saw Renjun standing right outside at the side. His hair captured the sunlight beautifully and it took him zero effort to have him noticed by the girls who were walking out. I had to admit he was attractive, now that I was not blinded by the fact I always thought my ex was the most perfect human on earth. I made my way to Renjun. But surprisingly, Haechan made it before I did, shocking the life out of Renjun with a rough pat on the shoulder. “Renjun!” Haechan shouted.

Renjun let out a disgusted expression and pushed Haechan away from him. I walked up to them, with Haechan surprised to see me standing before them while Renjun greeted me with a welcoming smile. “I swear I will throw a chair at you if you stop being annoying.” Renjun said as he adjusted the straps of his bag on his shoulders. Haechan leaned back and gasped loudly, giggling right after. “Like hell you would.” Renjun shot him a scary glare, one that even made me scared and intimidated by him. Haechan grew quiet instantly. “So uh why’s she here?”

Haechan took a step back when Renjun went towards me to stand by my side. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jeans casually. “I’m going to hang out with her today. So don’t bother calling me out tonight alright?” I turned my head to look at Renjun, who had a cheeky smile on his face. Haechan frowned and let out a whine. “You promised to join the party!” Haechan folded his arms. Renjun lifted up his shoulders. “Sorry.” Haechan huffed loudly and walked away.

“If you have a party to get you don’t need to-” “It’s fine. Really. They aren’t my thing. I usually study.” Renjun flashed a reassuring smile. He walked forward while I was still standing still, probably feeling surprised that I was even about to go out with someone I’ve never interacted before until now. “What are you waiting for?” I looked up from the random spot on his back I was staring at and blinked my eyes rapidly. With a slight shake of my head, I smiled amicably and walked up to him after adjusting my bag that was slung on one shoulder.

“Wait where are we going?” I questioned as Renjun and I took slow strides on our way out of campus. Renjun glanced up to the sky thoughtfully before looking back down and meeting my eyes. “Not sure, actually. Any ideas?” My lips formed a thin line. “Can we head to a library?” Renjun made a disgusted face, tongue sticking out slightly to add on. “Library? So you’re the kind that studies your problems away or what?” He feigned exasperation. I rolled my eyes and chuckled softly. “I mean... well that’s part of it. But I want to find a book to read too.”

Renjun shrugged casually. “If you want a book we can buy one from a bookstore.” My eyebrows go up, eyes narrowed at him. “Buy? Does it look like I have money?” I said, moving my hand up and down my outfit as if that even gave him an idea of how broke I was. “I could pay. If you promise to read the book, that is.” I scoffed and waved his words away. “Ah please. I can finish a book within a week if I truly like it. And trust me, I know when a book catches my attention.” I folded my arms confidently and I fought back.

“Bookstore it is then.” Renjun announced with a nod of his head. Though it was silent on our way there, I didn’t mind it. It wasn’t the kind of silence that breathed down our throats and would force us to let out a word at all. Comfortable silence, was what I’d describe our trip. We finally arrived, the name of the bookstore sitting above the door with a sign that said the shop was opened on the clear glass door. I took a peek inside for a moment. Though I’ve never been in quite some time, it didn’t seem to change much. Renjun was quick to open the door and almost letting the door shut. He was able to notice it and open back the door for me to enter. I smiled and looked to the floor as I walked in.

My gaze lifted itself from the floor and to my surroundings, which is basically shelves and shelves of books with two display rectangular tables in the center. I looked above the bookshelves, seeing the labels of the different genres. I instantly took quick steps to the fantasy books. “So you read fantasy?” Renjun said in an unusually low voice, adding on was his close presence behind me which could’ve made my breath hitched in my throat if I didn’t hold myself up. “I used to like romance. But the shit in romance novels never happen.” I picked a book off the shelve that seemed to have an interesting title. I flipped to the back and ran my index finger down the synopsis, quickly scanning through.

“It’s all... fake.” I whispered in the end, my voice was barely audible at the mention of ‘fake’. Renjun hummed and stood beside me instead of behind. With clasped hands behind his back, he scanned hus eyes over the bookshelf, head turning along while he did so. “Fantasy is fake too. They’re called fiction for a reason.” Renjun commented, which made me frown slightly when I realised what he meant. “I was just referring to the romance ones. Just too good to be true. And...” I lips formed a thin line as I exhaled sharply. “You can easily get sucked into holding the highest of standards without realising how harsh the real world is.” I forced a smile, looking at Renjun as I shoved the book I skimmed through back into its place, keeping my eyes on him.

I walked down to look through more books, Renjun would either be looking at me, peering with his head beside mine to read whatever I had in my hands at the moment, or skim through some books for himself. With quick glances I could tell he was only doing that out of boredom. “Okay, I have to choose one of these.” I muttered to myself, noticing how I had a large stack of books piled in my arms. I quickly eliminated most till I was down to two. Placing them both on the bookshelf, I nudged Renjun on the arm, turning his attention from the outside to me with a questioning hum. “Which one should I get?”

Renjun didn’t give a verbal reply, immediately picking one up to quickly read through and doing the same for the other. “Can I get one of the books? It seems interesting.” Renjun mumbled at he grabbed one of the books. I shrugged. “I don’t mind. But we’re switching books once we’re done with them. Got it?” Renjun furrowed his eyebrows. “Excuse me I’m the one paying for these.” I stick my tongue out like an annoying kid. “Yeah, whatever.” I turned sharply and headed straight for the counter. Renjun proceeded to pay and we checked out.

I never had an outing like this in a long time. My ex would simply drag me out to do other things that were out of my comfort zone, that were thinga I didn’t want to do. But being here, especially with Renjun, had made me feel that sense of belonging, one that I so dearly forgotten and missed. All I could think about now while laying in bed was Renjun, but I smacked my lips, forcing to shove the thoughts of him in the back of my mind and open the book to the first page.

“I’ve been here before. A lot of times, actually.” I said, with a finger to my lips. Renjun wanted to surprise me by taking me to a place to hang out, little did I realise it was the place my ex and I always went to. I turned to look at Renjun, who now had a frown on his face. One that so closely resembled Kim. It made my stomach form tight knots. “Is this where you’ve been with your ex?” As if Renjun read my mind, I slowly nodded. Rejun clicked his tongue and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. If this place brings you bad memories then-” I brought my hand up to hold his forearm, flashing him a gentle smile. “It’s fine.” I whispered, heading in.

We bought the picnic basket and headed out to the large field on grass, with flowers surrounding the perimeter. We chose a random spot, making sure we had a good view... of whatever we could see in the sky and sat up. We began to unpack and once we had all the food laid in front of us, we sat down next to the each other, legs both crossed with our knees touching. “So you wanted to take me out on a picnic?” I questioned in surprise, reaching out for a slice of watermelon. Renjun breathed out a short laugh and nodded.

It did make me think about how Kim and I used to come here a lot. It was our place. Though it pained my heart to be here, the burden somehow lifted itself with Renjun’s presence. His aura and being got me distracted. Indeed, whatever Renjun had always been doing, has helped me move on from Kim. We chat and ate laughing and coming up with random things to argue about for the fun of it. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know cats are the most adorable house pets one could ever have!” I shouted with force. “No! Dogs!” Renjun protested and the both of us laughed.

At a time like this, I realised just how similar Renjun was to Kim. The way he smiled, laughed. When I got home, the small decor we got from the picnic basket in my hands, I recalled the day I had with Renjun. How we got to see the sunset, the sky turning pink with streaks of orange, slowly turning itself into ink black to allow the night to settle in. My thoughts were at first innocent, but it was slowly growing dark. “Why do I see Kim in your eyes, Renjun?” I whispered to myself, thumb hovering over the decor. I couldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t even have a single thought of this.

Another time like this came about when Renjun took me out of a hangout to the arcade. He offered to pay, like he always did. And we played for hours. I saw the way he played with so much fire and passion, even if it was over a simple game of DDR or a shooting game. He’d do anything to beat me. He was competitive, just like Kim. “You didn’t have to go hard on me!” I whined, placing the gun down with a hard slam and a huff of annoyance. Renjun turned me around by placing both hands firmly on my shoulders. He took a large step in front, closing the gal between us till our chests touched, the strong sense of pulling him closer was there as he dipped his head down to meet my gaze.

“You mad, babe?” Renjun whispered, sending an electric shock throughout my body from the contact of his hands. That was the first time he called me babe. And that made a feeling in my body that I knew all too well. The butterflies fluttering in my stomach, how my lungs clenched at the close proximity of his face to him, yet I wouldn’t bother grasping for air, I wanted to stay like this— close. I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes. “Excuse you can I not be? You beat me at almost every game!” I rolled my eyes and jerked myself off his grip. I wanted to turn around but he was quick to have a hold of my wrist to pull me back into his embrace.

With his hand slowly gliding around my waist, he placed his hand there gently, somewhat leaving a gap between his hand and my skin but was still able to pull me close with the tug of my wrist. Renjun pouted deeply and shook his head. “Not true! I let you win the basketball game.” Renjun curved one side of his lips up in a defeating smirk. I stuck my tongue out in annoyance. “No you just sucked at playing basketball.” I teased, laughing loudly which made Renjun laugh as well, smacking my arm lightly. “Shut up.”

I looked into his eyes. In a busy place like an arcade, it’s as if everything else had been wiped out, leaving Renjun and I with pure silence in my head when we locked eyes. I was falling, trapped in his gaze. My feelings for Renjun only grew more and more when he began to express himself as more than just a friend. He was trying to get me. I knew he began to like me that day. When Renjun and I walked home, he had his eyes on the ground. We were silently walking, which felt unusual to me. He never seemed this quiet.

With a quiet sigh I looked to the side, looking at the street lamps that illuminated the pathway with an orange hue, with a cold breeze whispering through the trees. Suddenly, I felt a touch of electricity. I slowly looked down to my hand, seeing Renjun sliding his hand to meet my hand and threading his fingers between mine. The touch sent a shock through my veins. It felt like I was suddenly lit and energy coursing in me. “Is this why you were quiet this whole time?” I questioned Renjun, a small smirk of tease playing on my lips as I lifted our hands up in front of him.

Renjun widened his eyes for a split second and quickly shook his head. He scoffed in denial. “What? No.” He retorted back. “But it was smooth, wasn’t it?” Renjun asked with a light giggle. I breathed out a laugh and sighed loudly in satisfaction, tilting my head up to meet the dark sky of the night. “Tonight’s been fun.” I whispered softly. But I stopped in my tracks, making him turn his body to face mine. “But we’re going to study once we get on campus.”

Renjun gaped his mouth open in shock, eventually turning his shocked expression into a pitiful one while letting out a long whine. “Why?! I don’t wanna study.” I chuckled and brought my free hand up to play with his soft hair. “You don’t need to. Just accompany me while I study. I have a lot to catch up on.” I smiled softly, which he responded with a sweet smile back.

It didn’t need a confession. We didn’t need to say it out loud. We felt our longing for each other and it naturally began, more physical touching, calling each other babe. It was just the beginning of our relationship, but what confused me was how easy I was able to fall for Renjun, after trying for so long to get over Kim. Just what was it in me that had me make that quick switch?

As time went on and I got to spend more time with Renjun, my feelings for him spurred quickly. But I knew it was the wrong kind. It’s the one that held my feelings for Kim still. I just saw Renjun as him and wanted to get close to him for the sake of feeling the love again. “Fuck. I’m using him.” The realisation came quick, though it took me awhile to know. I might have noticed from the very start, but I chose to ignore it, thinking it wasn’t true. With this keeping me up all night and putting me in a bad place with my overthinking, I wanted to distance myself from Renjun for awhile, which in the end got me to continue with this lie.

“You good?” Renjun questioned. We were hanging out by the field of flowers, having a silent book readin session as I laid my shoulder on his. He probably noticed me staring off into the distance and haven’t read a single line on the same page for at least ten minutes. I shook my head slowly and forced a smiled, turning my head to look up at him. Trying to seem normal, I answered, “Yeah. Just stressing over an assignment.” I tilted my eyes back down to my book. I trailed off in my thoughts too much that I even forgotten when I was at in the novel.

I did what I only could’ve thought of, which only led to his stubbornness and determination track down why I’ve been avoiding him for an entire week.

“Open the door. I know you’re in there.” I woke up to Renjun’s voice and his violent knocking that shook me awake. I winced at the sunlight that went in through the window uninvited and clearly unwanted. It was too much light for someone who’s going through a confusingly hard time. I gulped and rose out of bed, slowly walking to the door when the realisation hit me. I had to tell him about it. I couldn’t avoid it any longer.

I slammed my palm hard on my forehead. Why was I even dumb enough to do this in the first place? I knew all too well he’d come for me eventually. What was the point of me running away to avoid my feelings? I breathed out slowly, wanting to steady my heart which had been pounding so hard in desperation to get out of my ribcage. After closing my eyes for a moment, I grabbed the door handle that was creepily cold to the touch and opened the door.

I looked at Renjun standing in front of me. He looked tired, as if he stayed up all night. He didn’t bother to look presentable with his messy hair, puffy face, eye bags as dark as the moon. He looked restless. This wasn’t him at all. He seemed out of place. He said nothing, simply walking into my room after shoving me aside lightly with his hand. I followed behind him, too scared of how he might react while he interrogate me.

Renjun went to sit at the edge of my bed. I took the chair of my study table and pulled it to seat in front of me. With my actions so uptight and out of place, I knew that he knew that something was wrong. Clearly wrong. I watched as Renjun closed his eyes, somewhat in a way to compose himself of whatever feelings he was having at the moment. But when he met my eyes, it was intimidatingly dark. He was staring right into my soul, possibly reading whatever’s in my heart.

He leaned forward and interlocked his fingers together in front of him. “An explanation would be nice.” He said in a monotonous voice. I wasn’t liking this one bit. Renjun was scary. Like there was a fire inside him that no one could put out yet he’s able to keep his tone raw and bare. “I...” I began to trailed off, trying to quickly form a sentence. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I tried to force myself to speak.

“I’m sorry.” I let out, looking down. With my head tilted down, my eyes looked to his again. And I could tell they were now filled with anger, and disappointment. “I know you are. But why?” Renjun asked again. I swallowed all my feelings down my throat in hopes that I won’t spill them out and cry while trying to explain. “I used you, okay? When I first met you, and we began to hang out, you just so vaguely resembled Kim and I...” The tears began to well up in my eyes. My vision got blurry and I lost sight of Renjun.

“I just thought I could get over him if I forced myself to fall for you.” I blinked my eyes, the tears giving in and streaming down my dried cheeks, wetting them with guilt and resentment towards myself. Renjun was sitting still in front of me. There was no expression change in his face, and that scared me even more. But what was said next, had my heart shattering even more than it did last time. “So I see there was no point in liking you in the first place.” Renjun stood up. But after he took one step, I quickly rose from the chair and grabbed his wrist, holding onto it tightly as if trying my best to hold onto his heart that could now slip away from my grasp at any second.

“What?” Renjun asked, a hint of annoyance shining through his tone. That simple word rolled hard off his tongue, and I knew he meant for it to slice through my sliver of hope. I feel the sting of the word, like a pinprick, like the word itself is trying to pop me the way it pops my thought bubble “My feelings are real, Renjun. None of it was fake.” I pleaded, holding myself back from shedding more tears. “You’re just contradicting yourself.” Renjun jerked my grip off him roughly, hard enough for me to stumble a step back in shock. My mouth was still agape, my brain trying its best to work fast on how I could make this even the slightest bit better. It’s as if the

But as soon as I saw Renjun taking his steps to my door, I knew there was nothing left for me to do. The door slammed shut, and he was completely out of my view. When he went away, for a long moment, I went empty too, like all of me just flooded out and disappeared. Then it hit me. Renjun wasn’t going to come back. He’s never going to talk to me again. I dropped to the floor as if all the life has been sucked out of me, the earth wanting to drain me of my ever happiness as punishment. It’s like the world went blank and still, and so do I. My chest is clenching tighter and tighter, suffocating my lungs and stopping me from breathing in air.

“Fuck you’re stupid.” I croaked out, my eyes shut so tight with my head hanging loose to face the ground in embarrassment. My heart pounded so hard I thought my bones might shatter. I could hear it in my eardrums as all the feelings that were pinching me inside slowly grew numb. My eyes were puffy and I was loosing myself in that moment. I risked everything I had with Renjun for the sake of my pride. And I’ll never know if I could ever overcome this swelling pain.

Weeks went by. I used to count how many days I went without Renjun, but I stopped. What was the point to that anyways? I guess it served me as a coping system to reassure myself that I could be well withhout Renjun. But I knew deep down I wasn’t. Not at all. The hours, minutes, seconds of ever day went by as if forever. And it hurt every time. I never got Renjun out of my mind, no matter what I tried to do. Study, go out for a drink, read. Nothing. Because it all related back to Renjun. He was so entangled into my life within that short time span that it felt almost impossible to do anything.

I would occasionally see Renjun walk on campus with his group of friends. He had the smile that he mentioned he’d only show to me, for me. I could hear his laughter down the hallway and my heart would break just a little more. It was hard. He was my only friend. And yet he’s better off without me, knowing he had others to go to. I was alone, and I had myself to blame for that.

One day, I couldn’t bare it any longer. I wanted to talk to him. In any way. I just needed a second of his time, of his touch. This afternoon after my lecture, I saw him walking alone on campus. He had his head held high and confident, occasionally greeting people he knew. The smile never left his face, and his hair captured all the sunlight as if it was all shining on solely him. I wanted to move, but something in me had my feet rooted to the ground. Perhaps it was me knowing that he was indeed better off without me, and I had to live with this weight in my heart.

“You’ve been staring at him for so long.” I startled awake from my trailed off thoughts when a voice sat itself low beside my head. I turned around, meeting Haechan’s face close to him. I leaned back from the sudden shock. “I know something’s wrong.” Haechan He shrugged in a blasé, god-could-care sort of way, knowing it would get me alert. “He told you, I suppose?” I whispered, looking down to my feet that missed their chance at carrying me to Renjun. Haechan scoffed, almost in a sarcastic manner. “He told me nothing. I’m just observant.” He corrected me with a professional sort of tone.

My eyebrows go up in question, but I soon gave a lifeless expression after. “It’s none of your business.” I was about to walk away when he prevented me from even taking one step with his grip on my wrist. I turned around to meet his eyes. For a moment it flashed pity. “Care for coffee?”

I gulped, my eyes never leaving the coffee that was in front of me, reflecting my terrible face in it that made me grimace at myself silently. I frowned, looking up to Haechan who was staring at me as if watching my every move with his lip cup resting on his lips. “What am I here for?” I finally asked after the long silence passed by. Haechan sighed for three days. “Don’t think Renjun has been well off without you.” He said straight up, no filter, no nothing. I stared at him, rendered clueless. I tried to sink in his words but I quickly got cut off when he continued with, “Trust me. I know Renjun my whole life. He’s putting on a show for you. Though you and I don’t know what he does behind closed doors. I know the way you currently view him is not him at all.”

Haechan’s words got me wanting to speak, but not a single word could leave my mouth. So many things came into my mind. So many questions I wanted to ask. But I guess the overload made my brain lag and unable to process anything but Haechan’s words. “How is he?” I managed to spoke, though it cracked for a moment and it was barely audible. “He acts fine around us. As if we don’t know him enough to know that he’s been ditching us to hang out with you.” Haechan chuckled lowly and shook his head. “If anything, he needs you to approach him. I mean I know he’d be doing it first if it wasn’t for his god annoying pride.”

Haechan leaned closer, with a mysterious gaze that pulled me in response, as if he wanted to tell a secret. “Whatever you two have going on, fix it. I don’t like seeing my friend put on a show for a girl. Make him happy again. And do whatever it takes.” Haechan rose from his seat, the screeching of the chair making contact with the floor as he pushed it back to allow himself to slip away from the table. He casually walked out, his footsteps sharp and precise and soon disappear. Bullets of Haechan’s harsh words buried themselves in my chest. But soon a coil of hope unraveled in my stomach.

I sat there, still in awe. How could I not believe Haechan’s words? He’s Renjun’s best friend. If Renjun really was going through a hard time, all the more I had to do something about it. I sighed, slowly changing my gaze from the random spot on the chair in front of me to my phone that sat quietly on the table. With a shut of my eyes, I reached for it, turning it on and going to Renjun’s contact. I never changed it. It was still ‘Annoying prick<3’ I breathed out a short laugh. My thumb shakily went to the call buttoned and hovered over it for awhile. I had no idea what I was going to do if he picked up. But I went for it anyway.

The ringing was beginning to haunt me by the fifth time. And just when I wanted to end the call, it picked up and I could hear Renjun’s shallow breathing through the speaker. “Hey.” He simply said. Hope provided a burst of warmth inside of me. “Are you free tonight...?” I questioned slowly with much uncertainty. A long pause went by. It was killing me. “Yeah.” Renjun’s short answers sounded normal. But something about it sent a cold chill down my spine. “Meet me at the park at 10. You know where.” I quickly ended the call and pressed the phone close to my chest. I was so nervous that I didn’t even get his confirmation that he’ll be there. Looks like I’ll be taking my chances like a real idiot.

That night, the cold seemed to be pinching my bare face. I sat there on the bench. At first my hopes were high and I was waiting with my back straight and shoulders back to give a good impression. But as hours went by as the temperature seemed to drop tremendously and I could feel my lips and face freezing up, I slowly slouched and huddled myself in a tight hug, claiming desperately for warmth. The only thing that was currently giving me hope was the bright moon shining its light on everything with the stars to accompany it with its little to no presence, yet still as prominent as the moon to me.

I wasn’t prepared for such a night at all, simply coming here in a hoodie and sweatpants. I bit my lower lip as my overthinking began to trail itself down a dark path. I swallowed down my hurt feelings, closing my eyes and simply wanting to take a break from all I had endured. I needed the rest. Suddenly, I felt something heavy draped over my shoulders, wrapping around my around. The action got me to hold my body still. But I managed to flutter my eyelids open and turn to look the one responsible.

“Renjun.” I softly called out. I cracked a weak smile. “You actually came.” “You dumb fuck.” Renjun’s words got my expressionless and tired face to make mold itself into a shocked one. He roughly placed his hands firmly on my shoulders and turned my upper body to face him. My eyes met his, and he was examining every inch of my face in worry. He cupped my cheeks in his hands, his palm welcoming itself with warmth. His gentle touching imbued with care was instantly recognisable. “How long have you been waiting out here?” Renjun’s voice was highly concerned.

“Not long.” I slowly replied. Renjun shook his head intensely and pulled me into his embrace. It was tight, yet not suffocating. It was one that’s all too familiar. “You idiot. Don’t you know how to determine when it’s finally time to go back?” Renjun whispered, his worrisome still obvious in his tone. I rest my head against his chest, his heart beating rapidly against my ear that was pressed right at where his heart was. Did he come running here?

“How can I? I know no bounds when it came to you.” I whispered, a teardrop instantly falling out of my already overflowing eyes. I pressed myself into him more, my hands eventually lifting themselves up on instinct to wrap around Renjun’s chest. Renjun placed his chin on top of my head, slowly tilting it down to plant a soft and feather-like kiss on the crown of my head. “I hate you. I still do. But I’m not worth enough to have you waiting out here in the damn cold.”

The ground between us feels a little more solid but the rest of the world shakes like it’s built on a high wire miles above the earth, crashing down and leaving only Renjun and I still standing, still here in this moment. My heart began to pick up its pace, with a heartbeat that threatened to tear through my ribcage from Renjun’s ever so careful touch. Renjun sighed and pulled away, my body still close to his. He gaze met mine and he never failed to have it locked on me. That action alone was enough to make me break out in goose bumps, to make my stomach crisscross into deep knots.

“Say that you love me.” Renjun was studying my eyes, as if looking into my soul for any more lies. But I quickly reverted it. “I love you.” I was sincere, from the bottom of my heart. And I tried my heart to have my eyes and voice tell it for him. Renjun hugged me close again and kissed my forehead, letting his lips stay there as it brushed lightly above my skin.

“I may be Kim’s lookalike. But I’m much more different when I’m with you.” I hummed in reply, my body going limp under his touch as I let his warmth surround me with his love that I truly missed.

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mistergrass · 3 years

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Zodiac Mom Headcanons: Hatori’s Mom

This post in the series is a little different because it incorporates a lot of my headcanons about the dragon bloodline in general

If you’ve read my behemoth of a fic, you probably know the gist of it, but to keep it brief, here is the tl;dr before we get into the Mom Stuff

Other than the god, the dragon is the only member of the zodiac to come from one singular bloodline

No other zodiac bloodline can erase memories

Members of the bloodline, even if not cursed, are expected to become doctors and to learn the memory-erasing technique

Non-cursed dragon family members have the ability to erase memories with a lot of training, but it is not nearly as potent or powerful as when an actual dragon does it

(Also thanks to @lilbeehive for bouncing around ideas with me.)

Rat & Snake Mom | Ox Mom | Tiger Mom | Rabbit Mom | Dragon Mom

Hatori’s parents knew early on that a love marriage was never going to be in their future.

Hatori’s father is the grandson of a dragon, and the only child of his parents. It was decided from a young age that he would become a doctor, and once his grandfather passed away, it was also understood that he was expected to have a child — a child that would be the next dragon.

He doesn’t resent this — being from a well-known zodiac bloodline, he grows up knowing that his loyalties need to lie with the Sohmas and with the zodiacs. And, quite frankly, he’s very suited to medical work, especially the kind demanded by the family (which I’ll talk about more later on).

The point is, this parental situation is unique. The other zodiac mothers have varying levels of surprise when they find out their child is a zodiac. But to ensure the safe and healthy birth of a dragon, this is something that is meticulously planned in advance. That means the mother must have full awareness and revere for the curse.

Initially, Hatori’s father was engaged to another woman — the granddaughter of the former rabbit and a woman five years younger than him. The plan was to marry as soon as she finished high school, but a few months before their wedding the woman gets cold feet and runs away with a man she fell in love with in school.

It’s then that Hatori’s mother is chosen, as the great granddaughter of the former ram. She’s also three years older than Hatori’s father.

Almost immediately, Hatori’s mother is informed that — following a successful medical examination — she is now engaged to be married. She accepts this gracefully. Her family’s long-standing wealth and status come from their zodiac ties, as well, and she knows that this is a duty she must accept.

And, quite frankly, she was never a woman who thought much of marriage. It’s not as if she considers it a big sacrifice.

In a few short months the two marry. And suddenly these two very obedient, introverted people are stuck alone in an inn for their honeymoon, never having said more than a few words to each other.

Hatori’s father has also never been with anyone previous to this, and the two are rather socially awkward. Hatori’s father has always been the kind of person to put his studies first, which developed a very serious and aloof persona. Hatori’s mother is much the same, and has never really been one to enjoy a lot of company, regardless.

They both do their best to try and follow through with it, but Hatori’s father (fumbling through it all himself) recognizes his new wife’s nerves. Without any prelude, he stops before it can get any further. After a very long, weighted silence he says, “elephants can stay pregnant for up to 23 months.” When she states her obvious confusion, he simply replies “these things take as long as they take.”

They don’t say anything for the rest of the night, but Hatori’s mother finds she appreciates both his attentiveness, and his straight-forward (if bizarre) nature (she’s not the type of woman who enjoys being coddled or talked down to).

All things considered, they find they’re actually very suited to each other.

Neither ever develop true romantic feelings for the other, but neither ever really viewed marriage as a romantic institution to begin with. Them becoming each other’s closest friends ends up being the best case scenario.

In Sohma social circles, they’re considered the odd couple. Hatori’s father’s dry, monotone way of speaking tends to make the delivery of jokes or earnest questions come off harsh and offensive. While his wife, who has come to understand the nuances of his personality, never seems to care to bother to clear up misunderstandings this could cause — and even seems annoyed at people’s inability to read her husband with the same fluency she quickly acquired.

Hatori’s mother also takes a deep interest in her husband’s work. Not just as a doctor, but specifically as a zodiac doctor.

The doctor’s position is not only to erase memories, but to provide proper care for the zodiacs when traditional hospitals are not an option. In addition, because of the supernatural nature of the curse, and the longstanding tradition of zodiac doctors within the family, Hatori’s father not only studies conventional medical science, but old records kept from previous Sohma doctors, some veterinarian studies, and even holistic/witchdoctor practices. The true science behind the Zodiac Doctor’s work tends to become an experimental gumbo of many different healing practices through history. Something Hatori’s father is fascinated with, and tends to lean into more heavily than maybe previous generations had.

(He also becomes deeply superstitious as he gets older and continues his studies, which only intensifies after his wife passes away).

Hatori’s mother is also just as taken by his practice, and ends up becoming something of a research assistant for him. She’s a fast reader, a very quick learner, and overall an extremely intelligent woman. Something Hatori’s father values highly in his wife, and is more than happy to allow her into his work. In the last few months of medical school, she even reads over his final papers and makes corrections.

Eventually they’re comfortable enough with each other to have sex, which they only ever do in order to try and get pregnant. Two years into their marriage, and just as Hatori’s father is graduating medical school, Hatori is born — the first zodiac of this generation.

She does love her son, but just as she was raised that her life and marriage was not her own, she knows the same applies to her child. On paper, she is the perfect mother — home cooked meals, proper clothes, clean house, books and toys purchased. Yet, she has no real idea how to interact properly with a child, and generally treats her son like she would any other adult in terms of the expectations she places on him, and her general lack of verbal and physical attention.

She also takes up tutoring Hatori in what will eventually be his occupation. They study for three hours after each school day as soon as Hatori is old enough to spell. Though neither of his parents get angry easily, and both are generally very patient people, Hatori’s mother can still be very strict and has no problem scolding her son when he doesn’t pay proper attention.

However, Hatori’s father does insist that they have dinner together every night. Though his parents are strange, and seemingly-cold people, these dinners never feel forced. It’s clear to Hatori that his parents enjoy each other’s company, and because they treat Hatori as if he were an adult, it feels as though they enjoy his company, as well. Not quite the same as a loving pat on the head, or being told “good job”, but it’s something he remembers fondly as an adult.

Hatori, as a result, grows up very disciplined and with a deep sense of duty and loyalty that is exemplified by every aspect of his parents’ lives.

With the birth of other zodiacs, it becomes natural for the mothers to begin to befriend each other, as well.

Hatori’s mom and Shigure’s mom had already been family friends for as long as she can remember. Though Yuki’s mom and Kureno’s mom, with their change in status, also become incorporated in this circle.

She finds an unlikely friend in Kureno’s mother. She likes her earnest, down-to-earth nature, and her friendliness has always seems genuine. She does not, however, hold the same opinion of Yuki’s mother. Their problems start early on, and slowly escalate all the way up to the final years of Hatori’s mother’s life.

The problem is Yuki’s mother’s embarrassingly apparent desire for status. The way she acts, dresses, and talks all come across as desperate and irritating. Hatori’s mother, admittedly, is a bit of a snob. She’s been in a high-class family her whole life, which means she’s never had to think about acquiring status. She also has a very secure position as both the wife of the current Zodiac Doctor, and the mother of both the dragon and the first born zodiac of the generation. And when Yuki’s mother tries to insert herself into Hatori’s mother’s life, she is, politely, but undeniably rebuffed.

For that, she holds quite a grudge against the woman. One that only gets exceedingly worse a few years later when Hatori’s family become the first and only people to discover Yuki’s father’s extramarital affairs.

It happens like this:

Fed up with his wife’s needless possessiveness of him, and irritated by her instance that they become pregnant with a second child, Yuki’s father starts to become more and more distant in the months during Yuki’s mother’s pregnancy. By the time Yuki is born, they hardly even speak to each other. Six months later, Yuki’s mother decides to take a trip and leaves her children behind with a swarm of maids and her stranger of a husband.

Deciding he wants to sleep in his own bed for the night, and reveling in his wife’s absence, he invites one of his many mistresses to his house instead of a hotel. In the middle of the night, the woman is woken up by the sound of a baby crying. She finds the nursery, and in an attempt to soothe the restless newborn, she goes to pick him up.

Yuki’s crying may not have woken up his father, but the piercing, terrified scream of his mistress certainly did.

Yuki’s mother knew about his affairs, she knew about his slew of mistresses. But she had made him promise that no one else would ever, ever find out about them. What’s worse is when Hatori’s father asks to question them about what happened (a standard procedure before erasing anyone’s memory), he doesn’t even have the decency to show up.

But Hatori’s mother is there. And so is Hatori.

Though the young dragon boy is only ten, it’s a good opportunity to learn one of the most valued aspects of his future role. As his tutor, and as her husband’s unofficial research assistant, Hatori’s mother is also included in the process.

Yuki’s mother finds herself hating the woman’s calm, clinical stare as she is forced to explain the most grievous humiliation of her life and marriage.

Convinced that Hatori’s mother will eventually let slip the truth about her marriage, Yuki’s mother sets out to turn the other mothers against her. She even develops a small resentment for Ayame, who she is believes will learn the truth from his friendship with Hatori. Shigure’s mother, who has always been happy to follow the social tide, goes along with this very easily. Haru’s mother, new to the group, is also easily swayed against Hatori’s mother. Even Ren and Akira find themselves taking Yuki’s mother’s side, causing Akira to advise that Hatori’s mother no longer assist with her husband’s work.

This might have been a more devastating blow, if it hadn’t already become an impossibility.

What Yuki’s mother never seemed to understand, was that the family of the dragon deals in privacy. Hatori’s mother would never have told a soul about Yuki’s father. Hatori’s mother doesn’t even tell her own son when she starts to get sick.

Hatori’s parents believe that everyone’s affairs should be their own, and there are certain things you just don’t tell children. So for the two years that Hatori’s mother is ill before her death, no one other than their immediate family knows.

Hatori’s father is heartbroken having to watch his dearest companion slip away, and he leans even further into holistic remedies in order to try and aid her recovery. As a child, Hatori knows something is wrong but is never told what. But he has clear memories of coming home, his mother absent from the house again, to his father having deep, serious discussions around the kitchen table with men who called themselves shamans.

Eventually her illness gets so severe that she stays in the hospital full-time, though she still tutors Hatori over the phone. Her unexplainable absences from the Sohma social circles make it easier for the other mothers to believe that she’s snubbing them out, just as Yuki’s mom is saying. And by the time Akira orders Hatori’s mother to stop assisting her husband, she’s already been too sick to do so for months.

The only person who knows among the family, is Kureno’s mother. She comes to visit the hospital at least twice a week, and promises not to say a word to any of the other family members. They become quite close, in the end.

Her death comes as a surprise to everyone but her husband and Kureno’s mother.

At the funeral, Hatori doesn’t cry. Instead, there’s a heavy, leaden weight in his stomach for weeks. Though she was never conventionally affectionate, she was a consistent, reliable, and comforting presence that is suddenly gone. One that, in hindsight, he realizes he misses terribly.

Because his father is not an expressive man, Hatori wonders if his father even mourns her loss. That, along with his father’s general nature, causes a distance that lasts between the two for a long while. It isn’t until Hatori starts to apprentice with his father in earnest at the end of middle school that he realizes how wrong he was.

All the notes, research, reports, and every other contribution his wife attributed to his practice, Hatori’s father has preserved so reverently that they look more like freshly printed medical journals than well-used notebooks. Hatori isn’t sure he’s witnessed a greater demonstration of love. This is cemented further when he stumbles upon old research papers from his father’s days in medical school covered in abundant, but neatly written, notes.

“I like her handwriting,” his father explains. “It always helps me focus.”

This conversation becomes Hatori’s most prominent memory of his father after he also passes away two years later.

Friends with: Kureno’s mom, Shigure’s mom

Doesn’t like: Yuki’s mom

#Fruits Basket #Fruits Basket Headcanons #Zodiac Mom Headcanons #Hatori's mom #Hatori Sohma #I ended up really falling in love with this family

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timerainseternal · 3 years

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It has occurred to me that Five’s life is basically one big stream of failed successes, which is very interesting since he’s a very competent character overall. We know he is extremely good at physical tasks (best assassin in the timeline and has the ability to manipulate space, yeah I think he has it covered), mental tasks (solved time travel with equations on his own, can consistently come up with pretty solid, if risky, back-up plans), and is resourceful and able to improvise. Sure, his social skills are pretty bad, but he even improves on that in season 2 with his attempts to bring his siblings together instead of being almost solely independent like season 1. This isn’t to call him perfect (he really isn’t) or anything like that, but just to point out that rightfully, he should be more successful in the show than he is. I know his failure is mostly because the writers can’t have him actually succeed, since his goal is basically to stop the conflict in the show, but I’m pretty sure he thinks the universe hates him a whole lot (and it does!).

To emphasize how constant this is, I’ve gone overboard and made a timeline of Five’s major goals, and how they failed. I’ve counted most of them as failed successes, in that he technically did complete his goal, but not in a way that mattered to his actual goal, or in a way that created new problems to solve. Below a read more, since I am incapable of being concise.

Time Travel:

The first, and biggest, failed success. He did succeed at time travelling! He just was unable to go back and got stuck in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Confirmed failed success.

Time Travel Back:

Well, it took him forty-five years and he accepted a deal to become a time-travelling assassin, which wasn’t getting out on his own steam. Despite that, it didn’t take him that long to finish his equations while at the Commission, so presumably he was pretty close to getting it at that point. Also, even though he was technically time travelling forwards from 1963, he was able to get all his siblings back in time like a week later without time to work on his equations between, so he probably would have been able to get back. In short, he did get back (though only to 2019 and not 2002, so he didn’t ever get back to when he left), but became an assassin, and also physically thirteen, in the process: failed success.

Prevent the Apocalypse:

This is a big one so I will break it down into steps as well, but it is also a failed success as a whole since he did not, in fact, stop the apocalypse (or he stopped the original one but caused a different one in the process, depending on your point of view), but he did protect his siblings and himself from it as well as give themselves another chance to fix it. Failed success.

Get Information on the Eye:

Did eventually get the information from MeriTech, which told him nothing about who the eye belonged to. Failed success.

Get Information from the Commission:

Found out who they were protecting, did decent damage to the Commission HQ, and managed to hunt Harold down. Success! But Harold was already dead when he found him and had already set the apocalypse in motion, and the Commission was only temporarily damaged and it gave Five a shrapnel wound. He was also lulled into a false sense of security by the apparent end of the apocalypse. Failed success.

Mental Healing:

Goes to put back Dolores, finally able to let go of her as a coping mechanism and realizing he can find other avenues of self-exploration and development. Wonderful, Five, I’m very proud! His absence from the Vanya situation keeps her trapped (since presumably he would have jumped her out of there?), leading to the apocalypse that is the root of most of his trauma. Whoops. A very failed success, and a very sad one too.

Stop Vanya from Ending the World:

Well, he doesn’t actually really help that much here? He agrees to kill Vanya but doesn’t succeed. This one is mostly on Allison. As a group, though, they succeed in not making her set off a sonic boom or whatever it would have been, but they do blow up the moon, so. This one is just a failure.

Escape the Apocalypse:

As mentioned, Five does manage to get them all out of the apocalypse safely and without bodily changes! He did scatter them across the sixties and landed himself in another apocalypse immediately, so: failed success.

Gather Siblings:

It's like herding cats. Luther says no, Diego breaks out of the asylum, everyone has a love life all of a sudden, etc. This becomes an ongoing goal, and one that has varying levels of success at different points. Success level: oscillating.

Find Reginald:

Well, they do find him. He also stabs Diego and Pogo scratches Five :(. Then they go to the gala, get attacked by the Swedes, but they do get Reginald’s attention which leads him to invite them to a light supper. This one is a successful fail, since they basically get Reginald to find them at a time and place of his choosing.

Get Advice from Reginald:

Well, this meeting leads to everyone getting un-adopted, and the advice Five gets isn’t helpful to his immediate dilemma. He also has to see Reginald again :(. However, the advice is useful later, so: failed success.

Make a Deal with the Handler:

It does technically succeed, this one, in that he is extremely good at murdering the Board, and the Handler does give him a briefcase. It does have a time limit because the Handler is awful, but presuming that it actually did what she said, and if the siblings had all shown up, it would have been a full success! In practice, however, given the actual results: failed success.

Gather Siblings (Speed Round):

He gets 3 (2.5, sorry Ben) of them, so fully half! Only half, though. And the others had planned to come (sometimes with others, you naughty rulebreaker, Vanya), but got attacked/kidnapped/knocked out. So, getting half is kind of successful, but in this case it was all or nothing, so it’s a straight failure.

Get Briefcase from Past Self:

He doesn’t murder himself, so that’s a kind of success! It’s the only one, though, since even though he told other-Five the right equation that doesn’t actually help him any, since he remains thirteen and without a briefcase. He also gets to kick Luther square in the nuts, which is a success of sorts. Still a failure, though, especially because as he deals with that, Vanya’s preparing to end the world accidentally again and he doesn’t even know about that.

Go With Vanya:

Admittedly, it seems like he kind of doesn’t have another goal at this point, but that’s okay, since the apocalypse of ‘63 has been prevented and this is finally granting full success to the goal of Gather Siblings! However, since he is being framed for the murder of the Board (well, I say framed. He did actually do it), the Handler can use that to justify all of the Commission agents showing up, and can use this opportunity to kill the whole Academy and get Harlan too. I mean, she totally would have done the same thing whether or not he killed the Board, but it’s a nice excuse, and Lila also hates Five. In any case, though he has technically completed the goal of going with Vanya and supporting her, now they have to fight a whole lotta people. Failed success, I guess.

Protect His Siblings:

This, really, is the only actual goal he has in the show, and everything else is the steps to get there. And he fails the first time around! Traumatic! Luckily he was able to turn back time in a feat of badassery, and turn the biggest failure--a situation where he watches his siblings die and cannot save them and will never be able to save them and they’re dead forever--into his biggest success--discovering a new and very useful power, saving them all from death, ending remaining threats [the Handler and the Swede, (though the Swede is technically the one to actually kill the Handler, Five did thwart her plan and semi-directly led to her death, and I think he deserves to be the one who killed her, so there)], making a truce with the Commission, and getting them a way back to an apocalypse-free timeline. Failure followed by success.

Go Back to 2019

They did go back to 2019, just not their 2019. They’ve been un-adopted and the Sparrows exist, but there doesn’t seem to be an apocalypse in sight. Failed success.

Basically what I’m saying here is that despite being one of the most focused, consistent, and results-driven characters on the show, he rarely truly, fully succeeds. The real message here is that Five needs a win, a break, something. I hope in season 3 he gets it, or at the very least gets the chance to go absolutely wild. He deserves it.

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua meta #five hargreeves #he deserves better #absolutely nothing really works out for him #also before this he was a child soldier #which he seemed to be good at but can we really call being good at being a child soldier a success?#i dont think so #to be fair the other siblings don't get that much success either #i think their counts might be a little higher than Five's #they just also get a little bit longer to process things than Five does #and also their goals aren't quite as cataclysmic when they fail #(except for Vanya #but I don't think the apocalypse was ever necessarily a goal per se #but more of a byproduct)

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borkthemork · 4 years

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Color Symbolism - How Steven’s Shirts Portray Different Portions of His Life

A quiet musing from last night had me thinking about this and I knew I had to do a bit more in explaining. But basically, throughout the three main SU mediums — the main SU show, the SU movie, and SU Future — we all know the main color schemes Steven adorns himself regarding his star shirts. We have salmon pink, bright blue, and the heavy black he likes to tow around, but looking into the way these colors were implemented is what we will dive into.

Color themes and symbolism are very potent with Steven Universe. From the use of pinks, yellows, whites, blues, and the menagerie of other colors we could think of, Rebecca Sugar and the crew put a lot of deliberate thought into the design, especially on a thematic level.

For Steven, not only do his shirts represent a very iconic symbol towards the show as a whole, but it represents the main arcs and emotional statuses of our main character throughout the show’s running.

Edit (11/30/19): For sourcing, I’ll be putting the links to stuff I’m referring to in my reblogs. However, my post already got hit off the radar because of Tumblr’s broken algorithm, so if you liked this post then I would be grateful if you could help reblog and spread the word as well!

And with that, let’s begin.

Pink - The Arc of Innocence and Nurture

Pink harbors a lot of connotations regarding femininity in Western culture (and even a good load of masculine connotations in Eastern tradition) but it has a lot more than that under its belt.

It represents tenderness, cultivation, gentle love, nurture, safety, optimism, strength, but most importantly the color itself is seen as non-threatening, calming to one’s eyes, inviting to people.

But with this optimism comes the consequences of lack of awareness or vision. How do you think the concept of rose-colored glasses ever came about? It’s always the idealism or ignorance of the person that allows them to not see red flags or the reality of it all.

And with that, we could start connecting this to Steven Universe.

Throughout the five seasons, this boy always had this priority of being involved with the people and figures in his life as a therapeutic role model. He wants to heal the corrupted gems; he sees empathy and nuance in people’s struggles, and this mindset definitely kept going up to the point of CYM and onwards.

He sees the best in people and wants to encourage them to get onto the path of improvement and healing. There’s definitely innocence at the start, even if his life and the show’s antagonists challenged him to the brink.

However, the lack of vision could be found way back to the start of episode one. Season one was a slow burn of information since the POV showed that his family dynamic was never challenged to him because y’know, it’s his family, they’re gems, and they fight monsters. It portrays his mother as an amazing person to his parental figures, a martyr who loved everything and everyone. There doesn’t seem much for him to challenge at the start because that’s what his reality is, his status quo. He never questioned it. Why would he challenge something that he believes is the norm?

Of course, this illusion of a perfect family does get chipped away. With each episode that showed his family as flawed — with the world around him starting to expand more with information, his understanding towards the severity of the situation and what his status is gets questioned.

Steven will continue to keep his cheerful paradigm, but weariness has implanted a seed into him (among many other emotional issues from upbringing, but we’ll talk about that farther along).

Blue - Stability and Tranquility

The contexts for blue could vary a lot. Very polarizing definitions such as the relation to inebriation, water, and everything in between could dampen the straight-forward process on how to analyze the color associations further; it makes sense for this polarization since the use of it in the ancient and contemporary world isn’t rare, particularly in its application towards clothing, art, and other forms of creation.

But what we’re going to focus on is the sky (or light) blue, the one that Steven tows around before and amid the SU movie. It’s a color that’s mainly associated with the sky, hence the listed qualities found.

”Light (sky) blue: peace, serenity, ethereal, spiritual, infinity (The origin of these meanings is the intangible aspects of the sky.)” -Color Matters

Jill Morton, a color psychologist, also states that the color has a connection to conservatism, passivity, security, and introversion (which are important for later).

For now, let’s talk about Steven and his main goals.

Steven, throughout his two years of intergalactic diplomacy, became focused on bringing about a new form of Homeworld, cited in the game as him deteriorating the former authority doctrine and allowing people to do activities that aren’t limited by their former caste system. And with this, he brings forth the aim of peace and tranquility.

Cue the events of SU the Movie. Now at 16, Steven has been hinted to have never had full-on rest for the past two years he’s been doing his duties to the Era 3 reformed Homeworld. In his announcement, he declares that he wants to finally go back now that everything with the former empire is stable enough for them to function without him.

His main goal now is to relax, have time for himself, and gain his “happily ever after”. And we all know that this attachment to this idea will be played out for much of the storyline, to where it becomes one factor for him in a whole slew of others that prevents him from channeling his gem capabilities.

The catalyst towards him returning is through the concept of change, the ability for him to grow and adapt even throughout the trauma and pressure; Steven, in this movie, however, didn’t realize this because he was already at a state of his life where he just wanted a break from the morphing status quo. He wants a moment to himself, away from the anxiety of responsibilities placed on his shoulders at the age of bloody 14, and overall, just allowing himself to be a kid again.

Yet, even with him helping Spinel and returning life back to the Earth’s poisoned areas, Steven admits to the prospect of never having a happily ever after, and that he’ll “always have more work to do”.

This is where the color of his shirt changes, and with it, the break of Steven’s ideal stability.

Black - Aggression, Power, and Death

But with the expectation of stability for Steven’s life crushed after the events of the movie, I found it very interesting that his blue shirt wasn’t seen or even used anywhere from the stills and trailer shots we’ve seen.

This could be a deliberate usage on Rebecca’s part to discern SU Steven, SU Movie Steven, and SU Future Steven, but I’d like to believe that in-universe, Steven’s wanting to change into black-colored apparel is a mental choice on his part. For black, in color psychology, is a color that protects...and conceals.

“In color psychology this color gives protection from external emotional stress. It creates a barrier between itself and the outside world, providing comfort while protecting its emotions and feelings, and hiding its vulnerabilities, insecurities and lack of self confidence.” -Empoweredbycolor

A great deal of SU content creators have pointed out that Steven, for the entirety of his own life, has been brought up with the idea that emotional vulnerability, no matter how potent or minuscule, can become a weapon or a pain for not only their own being but for the people around them.

I can’t delve too much into it, sadly, but I will link to posts that commentate more on this in my reblogs.

His upbringing has brought him to the paradigm of repression, where his own priorities and needs are swept to the side for other people — even extending to the whole body of Homeworld because of the way he handled his diplomacy. He had to solve other peoples’ problems; he placed himself rock bottom in importance, and now he’s suffering the consequences for it.

Out of all the pieces of symbolism here, black is the most void and mysterious because of its absence of color. It’s used a good amount of the time as a motif of authority, power, and fear, but the ones I’d like to hone in on are death and the concept of being overwhelmed.

Now, we have no clear indication over how the series will go but hear me out. I don’t think a physical death would apply in this situation but more of a metaphysical death — a death of one’s current self.

We find Steven at a crossroads: it will bring his personal imbalance out in the worst ways, and through the fact that the sypnosis foretells of him handling powers uncontrollable by his cognition, then we know that this is a force that’ll bring him into strife over who he is and what he wants.

What does he truly want for his future and how will he come about it?

In Joseph Campbell’s template called The Hero’s Journey, a hero’s death has to come about by a new revelation, a new form of meaning and objective than what they originally intended. The death of one idea will then lead to the true answer, something new the character hasn’t explored but wants to explore since the concept’s been there from the beginning, yet needed a push for it to be unveiled.

”Black is the end, but the end always implies a new beginning. When the light appears, black becomes white, the color of new beginnings.” -Empoweredbycolor

If Steven has been chasing for a happily ever after for most of his life, then a paradigm shift will have to occur.

He must face the brunt of his problems, and in this, he’ll find the answer.

#steven universe #suf #steven universe future #steven unvierse analysis #su #bork speaks

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 20 - Just Kids

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what consequences?, 4.9k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19

All too soon, two very familiar colors filled the back of the van. Alex’s heart immediately submerged into the dark ocean it always went to in despair, knowing they were all screwed this time. He could already see Bobby pulling onto the shoulder - they didn’t need the sound of sirens to tell them what was up. Willie still seemed like he wasn’t all present, and Alex squeezed his fingers and shook his hands to bring him back to the now. They had really hoped it wouldn’t happen. None of the guys could’ve anticipated the alarm, or that Caleb would be in town when they definitely thought he was gone, or that everything would go wrong.

Not knowing didn’t matter, though. Hours later, all five of them sat inside a holding cell at the LAPD, heads bowed as none of them dared to make eye contact with each other. It was early morning by the time all of them had been processed, and they were all varying levels of exhausted. The time passed at a frustratingly slow pace, although there was no way of telling what time it was. Thankfully, they were the only ones in the cell at the time; if there had been other inmates it would’ve sent Alex’s nerves past their threshold. A guard sat just outside a doorway to the rest of the station while another sat directly outside the cell.

Alex was tempted to wrap his arm around Willie’s shoulders, since he remained dissociated, but the eye contact from the officer sitting across from them was too unsettling. He didn’t like the thought that came through his mind - the one that made him feel like an even worse criminal, even though he knew he wasn’t. Stubbornly, Alex fought to push the feeling away, and settled for putting a hand on Willie’s shoulder. There was almost no reaction, but then Alex saw his brown eyes flicker in his direction and that was all the peace he needed.

“It’s my fault, you guys,” Reggie murmured, barely peering up from where his head hung dejectedly. “I was just so caught up in getting back - ”

“It’s not your fault, Reggie,” Bobby interrupted him gently. “He was waiting for us.”

Luke didn’t speak. His eyes couldn’t leave his empty hands. Alex almost couldn’t look at him; it was a sad image.

They had all been so sure that Caleb was finally out of LA, never spoke about their plans at the studio, had been so careful about the way they acted around him - there was no way. There was just no way that he could’ve been so ready to show up just as they were trying to get the master copies of their album out of his hands. And worse, now Alex had dragged Willie into it, and the guilt mounted even higher from there.

A female officer approached the cell with a clipboard, not bothering to look up from the page she had her eyes glued to.

“Bobby Wilson?”

Bobby raised his head at the sound of his name.

“You have an older brother here to pick you up,” she said monotonously. “You’re free to go.”

The door to the cell was opened and Bobby made his way out in slight confusion. He threw a conflicted look back toward Luke.

“Did he say if I was taking anyone with me?”

“He came for Bobby Wilson and Bobby Wilson only.” Her tone shut down any further questions that he had. Looking back apologetically, his shoulders slumped as Luke shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luke said, although not as assuring as he likely wanted to be. “I’ll be fine.”

Alex watched as Bobby’s eyes lingered for a few seconds on Reggie, who was still hunched forward with his gaze fixed on the concrete floor. It seemed so uncharacteristic for him, but Alex understood he was probably shutting down at the mere thought of returning home. The emotions ran high enough in his home as it was. They hadn’t really been given options as for who got called when they’d been brought to the police department. Finally, Bobby turned and took the car keys and wallet that had been confiscated and disappeared.

Luke moved closer to Reggie and put a hand on his back, and he began muttering something to him. They were just far enough away that Alex couldn’t properly hear what they were saying.

“Sheldon’s gonna be so freaked out when I get home,” Willie spoke suddenly. Alex turned to see him finally looking around the cell, fully aware of his surroundings.

“Hopefully he’ll be okay,” he assured. “They can only hold us for up to twelve hours; that’s what they said.”

Willie looked at him and nodded, eyes once again immediately training themselves onto empty space.

“How are you doing?” Alex asked carefully. Willie didn’t move his eyes, but he appeared to be brought back into focus again.

“I just have all these images running in my mind,” he said. “Things he did. Things I did. He decided to pretend I was dead rather than deal with my existence. It’s like he was already trying to bury me by taking away any connection to my past. Sometimes I wonder what I was like before the accident. What if I deserved this?”

For a minute, Alex merely sat with his jaw agape, as if he’d been slapped upon hearing what Willie was saying.

“Wha- ? No. Willie, that can’t be right,” he started. “You couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, no matter what happened in the past.”

Willie shook his head.

“I was in the foster system, Alex,” he argued. “From the few things I know, I was passed around a little bit. Caleb was someone who took difficult kids; he had a reputation with social services. I wanted him to be the bad guy because I got a taste of something better, but when I look around, Alex? I have no one to call. Not even family.”

It was the first time Alex had seen tears well up in his eyes since the night at the Stratosphere, but he felt that any comfort he wanted to offer wouldn’t be accepted. All he could do was look back at this beautiful boy who deserved far more than he believed, brow furrowed in silent protest. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Willie had a point. There was a possibility that the guys’ dislike of the man had become biased based on Willie’s story, as unintentional as it may have been. Still, Alex refused to believe that it was because Willie was the real menace.

“Look, we may never know the truth,” he started, trying to look at him as directly as he could. “But I’m the one who got you here; I take responsibility for that. And sometimes having someone to call doesn’t mean they’re there for you.”

Willie gave him a look that was mixed, but he mostly read concern. Frankly, Alex wasn’t sure what his own parents’ reaction would be, but he didn’t dare hope for any sort of understanding.

“Reggie Peters?” The same female officer approached the cell again with her clipboard.

Reggie turned away from his conversation with Luke, sucking in a nervous breath.

“Your mother is here to take you home; you’re free to go.”

Pressing his lips together anxiously, Reggie simply bowed his head as he was escorted out the same way Bobby had been. Luke promptly spread himself out along the bench, pulling his beanie over his face.

For a while, Alex let his mind wander as he kept his hand resting on Willie’s shoulder. What Willie had said made him want to reevaluate the whole situation with Caleb. It wasn’t that he thought Willie was as bad as he said he was, but it stood to be examined. He remembered the difference between his short first impression of the man at the diner, and the second time he’d seen him. He even remembered his own reasoning - how it was possible that Caleb could come off as so severe while running a diner but maintain such charisma while serving guests.

A pang of memory also came as Alex had noted he didn’t seem like a straight man and after months of actually working with him there was even greater evidence toward that notion. It had been what made Alex want to trust him in the beginning. Finding an adult figure who offered him a break from being constantly vigilant about the way he naturally felt had been a blessing. Not even Alex could ignore that. However, something still told him that just because they had that in common didn’t make Caleb trustworthy.

“Luke Patterson?” All three boys looked up in surprise when they heard the officer’s voice a third time. Luke clutched his beanie to his chest, confused most of all as he sat up from the bench. Instead of announcing who had come for him, the officer stepped aside as two familiar faces came toward the cell.

Julie Molina and her Aunt Victoria looked at the boys, both with stern expressions.

“Julie?” Luke uttered in surprise, standing up from the bench and slowly moving toward her.

Folding her arms, Julie had her eyes fixed on Luke with a brand of disappointment that appeared to burn like acid. She flashed the same look toward Alex for a moment and he was duly stung. Luke could make all the sad, pleading puppy faces he wanted, but ultimately was struck dumb by knowing he had no room to speak.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Julie told him, the chastising tone not to be missed. Luke’s face fell and he hung his head, looking back toward Alex with a similar apologetic look as Bobby had given.

Alex caught Victoria also looking at him. It was still stern, but more in telling him she was let down. Why it compounded his already guilty feelings even more, he couldn’t understand. Her expression changed, however, as she looked at Willie next to him, as though she were trying to recall where she recognized him. Immediately forgetting his guilt for a moment, Alex perked up and subtly pointed a finger toward him, mouthing the name “Willie!” to her. She looked at him incredulously, and it was a shame the officer was already escorting them out with Luke, because he was sure she had questions.

“Was that Julie’s mom?” Willie asked. Startled, Alex looked at him and cleared his throat.

“Ah, no, that was her aunt,” he told him. “Her mom is still in the hospital.”

“Oh,” Willie replied, casting he gaze to where they had left with a look of empathy. “That really sucks.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed.

For the second surprise that night (morning? Alex couldn’t tell), and for the fourth time, the female officer returned.

“William Taylor?”

Willie looked at Alex in utter perplexity, and then back at the officer.

“Um…” he began saying. Before he finished, Flynn came around the corner accompanied by a woman both boys assumed was her mother.

“Hey big bro!” she said in a highly exaggerated tone, sending them a gigantic wink with a grin that was very out of place. “Looks like you messed up big time mister!”

Willie could only stare back in shock. Alex was too busy trying not to laugh at her poor acting skills. It was so obvious that she and Willie weren’t family.

“Hey...sis,” Willie said finally, still unsure what was happening just then.

Holding onto the bars and leaning close into the holding cell, Flynn dropped the grin immediately.

“Julie tipped us off and Alex’s parents aren’t coming, so we’re doing you guys a big favor,” she said to them in a low voice, laying on the irritation and topping it off with a tilt of her head and a smile that suggested murder.

Promptly, Willie stood up and was let out of the cell, still looking at Flynn and her mom in bewilderment. Alex sat with his hands folded in uncertainty.

“Him too,” Flynn’s mom nodded toward him. The officer opened the door for him and Alex sighed as he came out, realizing just how high his nerves had really been while sitting there for the past few hours. He could suddenly feel the blood rushing into his fingers again.

As he and Willie followed Flynn and her mom outside, he wasn’t surprised that his parents had opted not to come get him. If he guessed right, his father would’ve refused to go in some backward attempt to show tough love, and his mother would’ve been barred from going herself to show she agreed with the choice. Both he and Willie thanked Flynn’s mom as they sat in the back seat of her van.

Flynn turned around in the passenger seat as they drove off and Alex knew what was coming.

“How many times am I gonna save your ass?” she directed at Willie.

“Language, honey,” her mom warned. Flynn rolled her eyes, but backed down a little.

Willie smiled nervously at her.

“Third time’s a charm?” he offered with little confidence.

“There better not be a third time,” she cautioned. “Seriously, what were you thinking?”

Alex opened his mouth to respond but she put up a hand.

“Actually, save it. Anything I have to say is just what Julie will say to you guys later, and she’s the one who’s really mad at you. Right now, I’ve got permission to skip school and I’m not gonna waste it lecturing you two.”

Sharing a look with Willie, both boys were happy to at least not have to endure Julie’s wrath right that minute. It was only imaginable what Luke was going through at the moment.

“So, how did you know I was there?” Willie asked.

Flynn leaned back into the correct position in her seat and took in a deep breath.

“Julie’s aunt is supposed to be on sabbatical, but apparently she can’t stop doing little bits of work here and there. She’s an investigator. Anyway, I guess she was doing something at ungodly hours on a Sunday night for God knows why, and she was already in the station when Sunset Gets-Caught-Being-Stupid was brought in. I guess she tried to make sure nobody called the Pattersons because she promised Julie she won’t, and she found out there was a fifth kid with no emergency contact so she had Julie call me, and I had to wake up at six-thirty this morning to an angry Julie and while I, for one, don’t care that you were trying to steal something, the way y’all did it was just so dumb, I can’t even stand to look at y’all - ”

“Okay, we get it,” Alex interrupted.

“But the important thing is,” Flynn continued. “We can’t take you guys home. Sorry.”

“Wait, why not?” Alex asked.

“I have one hour before I need to be in the office,” Flynn’s mom told them. “So I’m putting my girl in charge of you two for the day.”

Flynn looked back at them smugly.

“Oh, I’m putting you two to work,” she said, not hiding how much she enjoyed being in a position of power.

Alex could only gesture with his hands in a manner of saying “ah, well,” and sighing in acceptance. This was loads better than dealing with his parents for the time being. And Willie seemed to have finally broken entirely out of the strange trance he’d been in ever since they’d seen Caleb.

“Do we get a nap first?” Willie asked. “‘Cuz we’ve been awake all night.”

Flynn’s eyebrows shot up in realization and she flopped back into her seat again with a sigh.

“That’s fair.”

It was well past noon by the time Alex opened his eyes. They had thanked Mrs. Taylor and then immediately passed out on the living room couch. Barely gaining his bearings, he found Willie still zonked on the opposite arm of the couch. He couldn’t help but admire his sleeping form, so much calmer than any other time he knew. The sunlight streaming in from the blinds glanced perfectly off his cheekbones and highlighted the rich brown tones in his hair. Alex had been struck by how handsome he was from the second they met at the diner, but he’d hardly gotten a moment to properly appreciate how beautiful he was.

Somehow there was something so lonely about him that brought an ache to Alex’s chest. Their conversation from earlier replayed in his mind. Willie really seemed to believe he didn’t belong anywhere when the only thing Alex wanted in the whole world was to keep him tightly in his arms. He really hoped to show Willie how much he meant to him some day.

“Oh my god, you are so in love with him,” he heard Flynn saying as she stood at the edge of the living room. He was too tired to give a proper response and could only turn to her still wearing a look of fondness. “Oh my god, stop, you are so precious!”

All Alex could do was lightly chuckle in return. Flynn tilted her head adoringly.

“And to think I was there from the beginning,” she reminisced.

Alex had a realization hit.

“I never said thank you, did I?”

She shrugged.

“No. But now you get to pay me back by doing all the chores my mom left for you.”

Heaving a sigh, Alex sank back into the couch and pressed his lips together, already reeling from exhaustion.

“Yep,” he muttered before reaching over and grabbing Willie’s hand, gently shaking it to kindly wake him up.

“Sheldon...stop,” Willie groaned as his tired face pinched together against the light. Alex giggled as he leaned over and tried shaking his shoulder instead.

“Hey, it’s me,” he said in a low voice, watching as Willie’s eyes fluttered open and immediately gazed back into his face. The absolutely enamoured smile that spread from cheek to cheek as he took in Alex’s face framed with his hair hanging down was more than Alex could take, and he felt honest-to-God butterflies in his stomach.

“Hey,” Willie murmured, his voice a pitch lower than usual from being asleep with just the right amount of vocal fry. It took all of Alex’s strength not to smother him right there on the couch.

“I really do hate to break this up, you lovebirds,” Flynn told them. “But it’s time to get to work!” She clapped her hands and the boys clambered off the couch, still sharing admiring looks at each other. She led them through her house, listing off the many things her mom had demanded: cleaning bathrooms, weeding the garden, and mowing the lawn were all there.

“And last but not least,” Flynn was saying as she led them upstairs. She flung the door open to an unfurnished room with bare walls and plastic covering the floor. “Painting!”

Alex saw Willie’s face transform from bleary task mode to shining with joy at the prospect of getting to paint. He wasn’t sure what it was, but everything Willie did was making him fall even further in a way he hadn’t thought possible. They were doing household chores for heaven’s sake. It made him consider doing all the rest of the chores just to let Willie do something he enjoyed. After seeing his reaction to Caleb, Alex thought it would lift his spirits more than anything.

“I say we divide and conquer then?” he suggested, putting a hand on Willie’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. Willie tore his eyes away from the unpainted walls to give Alex a puzzled look. Before he could ask questions, though, Alex simply looked him directly in the eyes and nodded toward the room before them, insisting he stay and paint without saying a word. He saw Willie’s expression soften and one corner of his mouth turn up in a delighted smirk once he understood the message.

“Okay,” Willie muttered to him, facing the bare walls with newfound glee.

Willie watched Alex head back down the stairs and he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with gratitude. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend as much time with him as possible - looking into that angelic face as he’d woken up had spun his head more than anything else in his life - but it was just the thought of how he was suddenly in Alex’s world and it was so...different. It vaguely reminded him of hanging out with everyone after the show at the Pearl, but it appeared to be so much deeper and so tight-knit. Julie and Flynn and their families went so far as to stick out their necks for the guys when they really had messed up, and it wasn’t even an obligation. Even being made to do housework for people who were still practically strangers to him felt like he was being taken in with open arms. He had the intruding thought that he’d eventually wear out his welcome.

“So, are we painting everything the same?” he asked Flynn, rubbing his hands together. Flynn wagged a finger and smiled with excitement.

“No,” she teased. Going over to a corner, she lifted two cans of paint, handing one of them to him. Looking at the swatch smeared on the top of the lid, Willie smiled to see a lovely teal, and then sunflower yellow on the can in Flynn’s hands.

“Oooh yes, these are some good choices,” he said, rolling up a sleeve with his free hand. All the worried thoughts could be put aside as they began popping the lids off and mixing the paint. “Have you got a hair tie I could borrow?”

“There is something about a boy asking me that question that just feels amazing,” Flynn commented as she briefly headed out to fetch one. Giggling at her remark, Willie lifted the paint mixer and watched the color drip into the can in fascination. There was something familiar about the notion of painting that made him wonder if it was something he’d done often before. Before forgetting. Would putting the brush in his hand unleash some kind of muscle memory or sense of nostalgia for something he didn’t know he had? Flynn returned with the hair tie and handed it to him, and he immediately pulled his hair back into a small bun.

“Alright, so these walls are gonna be the teal green color,” Flynn instructed, pointing toward the walls furthest from the window. “And these over here are gonna be yellow. I’ll start with the yellow and meet you at the corner, sound good?” Willie nodded at her as she moved her paint supplies over to the opposite side of the room, putting her braids up into a ponytail as well.

“Copy that,” Willie replied.

Once the paint was all mixed they got to work, both silently focused on the task at hand. For a while, all that could be heard was the repetitive swipe of brushes against the texture of the wall. There had been no sweeping rush like Willie imagined, but a gentle comfort quickly took over as he watched the color fill the empty space. He heard a loud buzzing outside and for a moment, peeked out the window to see Alex steady at work mowing the lawn below.

“So,” Flynn started, almost making him jump as he turned his attention to her. “It looks like our skater boy likes to paint; do you do art too? I saw your face.”

Chuckling, Willie hadn’t realized he’d gotten himself stuck in a situation that warranted friendly banter. Out of all of Alex’s friends, though, she was the one he’d seen the most, now that he thought about it. Despite how aggressive she had appeared at first, he really enjoyed her energy.

“Yeah, actually I draw. A lot,” he told her.

“Nice!” she nodded. “What kind of stuff do you draw?”

“People...places,” he said thoughtfully as he continued painting. “Memories.”

Flynn kept nodding, her expression becoming more pensive. “Cool.... Memories are interesting. Did you do a lot of cool things when you were little?”

Willie chewed on his tongue for a minute, realizing she still didn’t know. Even now that he’d been away from Caleb for a while and Alex’s reaction had been so kind, sometimes speaking of his amnesia still felt like something that wasn’t allowed. Regardless, it was a pretty important detail.

“I actually don’t know,” he stated. Flynn’s eyebrows knit together in response. “I was in an accident a little over a year ago, and I don’t remember anything - well, I remember a few things, but not a lot. Whatever I can figure out, I try to draw it so it stays with me.”

She gave him a long sympathetic look. Every time it was different; Alex had been a little shocked but then really sweet, Bessie had merely brushed over it like it wasn’t anything crazy, and now Flynn had her big brown eyes staring with such sadness in them. Again, he wondered how much he had really lost along with his memory. It seemed to be a thing everyone else could properly mourn, knowing the difference, but he couldn’t no matter how much he tried.

“That’s really awful,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Willie only nodded, accepting her words.

“It sucks, but I manage,” he said. They both resumed painting after noticing they had stopped for a moment.

“I mean, you made it here, which is pretty amazing,” Flynn told him. “Well, not here as in we just picked you up from the police station, but you know, you left Vegas and have your sweet job at the record shop.”

He shrugged, trying to be casual. Those thoughts were getting to him today in a way they hadn’t ever before. The ones that said he was still messing everything up anyway. He was just in a different city with a different job. It was great that he’d miraculously found Alex, which had been his entire goal, but now that he’d passed that step in his plan, life went on. And it hadn’t really become so different, now that Caleb had his hands on things again. There were still so many questions about that as well, because he really did wonder if maybe he had made everything out to be worse in his mind. Caleb had been his guardian for three years and Willie was one of numerous kids - he couldn’t be that insidious, could he?

“I said, ‘you’re dripping paint on your shirt!’” Flynn repeated to him, enunciating loudly and snapping him out of his train of thought.

“Oh,” he started, looking down at his now ruined shirt and then continuing to work on the wall. He could live with it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just keep thinking.”

“Uh huh. Whole lot of nothing to think about in there.”

Willie shot her a slightly wounded look. She rolled her eyes.

“Sarcasm, sorry. Looks like you have so much on your mind you can’t even function. So what’s up?”

He looked at her, unsure where to begin. It was great that she seemed easy to trust, because it made him less hesitant about talking, but he didn’t want to turn the painting session into something else. His mouth betrayed him though.

“I just keep thinking that maybe I have everything wrong and I brought all the guys down with me,” he confessed. Flynn didn’t respond, but listened quietly. “I met Alex and it was amazing! And I got it in my head that maybe being here with him would make everything better. But it looks like I’m just a bad influence.”

Flynn had nodded along until that last sentence, to which she tilted her head and squinted.

“Hold up,” she said. “Alex told me Caleb was your guardian, right?”

Willie nodded.

“Who also told Alex you were dead for no good reason?”

He nodded again.

“And you think you’re the bad guy here?” She had set down her brush and placed her hands on her hips.

Taking in a deep breath, Willie prepared to explain.

“Well - ”

Flynn simply held up both hands to shut him up.

“Willie. Buddy. You’re just a kid.”

You’re just a kid.

The words echoed around in his brain for a little bit as he let them settle in. She was right. Somehow he’d lost sight of that.

“You made some mistakes, I get it,” she continued. “But you’re not the bad guy. You’re still figuring things out. Actually, you know what I first thought of you? Well, actually, my first thought was that you were some creep who was trying to get into my friend’s concert, but after that, you know who I saw? A really good guy trying to show someone he cared. And bad people don’t do that.”

For a long time Willie just stared back at her in amazement. Somehow Flynn had managed to completely obliterate any other self-deprecating thought he had. It was the most human he’d felt all day. There was a sticky thud as his brush landed on plastic and he rushed to throw his arms around her.

“Oh!” she cried in surprise, slowly accepting the hug in return and patting his back. Willie squeezed her tightly and then stepped back, chuckling to himself as a small wave of embarrassment hit.

“Julie has good taste in friends,” he told her. “You’re really good at those pep talks.”

Flynn beat her chest with her palm and graciously took the compliment.

“Thank you.”

Willie picked up his brush again and continued working. He almost laughed when he had the thought that while he technically already had a boyfriend, Flynn was his first real friend. He was going to make that count.

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razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

My Origin Story

I’m often asked about how I got into self-publishing. It’s something I’ve talked about in previous posts, but I want to talk about it again. It’s been years since I started, and I think time has given me something of a different perspective.

I’ve wanted to be a writer for a long time. However, I first began to take my writing more seriously in high school. I started posting my writing on the internet under various pseudonyms, and I gradually honed my skills. I won’t say I was good back then, but I steadily became less horrible. It still wasn’t something I showed to people I knew in my everyday life, not even to my family. My writing was, in my opinion, still too rough and raw to present to others, except via the anonymity of the internet.

Fast forward to university. I continued to improve my writing as best I could. In fact, I devoted most of my spare time to writing. It was at this point that I began to write fan fiction. Now, I can already tell what some of you are thinking, but writing fan fiction was honestly the best decision I could have made at the time. Fan communities are wonderful things. You don’t have to be the best writer to be welcomed, and you can get access to a far larger amount of critique and advice than you would get as some random lone writer on the internet.

My writing improved markedly during this time since I was now getting regular feedback. Now, obviously, it’s true that most fan fiction readers aren’t professional writers or critics. Sometimes, all you get is “I like the bit where people got stabbed”. Yet amongst all of the one word reviews, random hate messages, and simple but welcome words of encouragement, you do meet people who are genuinely interested in helping you improve. I’m talking about detailed reviews that can be pages long, covering everything from sentence construction to overarching plot critiques.

In my Honours year, I finished my first novel. Before you ask, it’s not something that I’ve published although I do intend to go back and fix it up one day. What mattered wasn’t how good it was. No. What mattered was that I actually finished a novel-length story. It was a bit of mess at times, but it was 100,000 words of original fiction. Sure, it wasn’t great, but it was mine. I actually printed it out and had it bound in a manner similar to my Honours thesis.

During my PhD years, I continued to write, and I began to submit my short stories to fiction magazines while sending out inquiry letters to agents and publishers about my longer stories. Over the four years of my PhD I wrote three novels and many short stories.

And this is where my origin story takes a bit of a dark turn.

Do you want to know how many short stories I got published?

Zero.

Do you want to know how much interest I got from publishers and agents about my longer stories?

Zero.

That’s right. I got absolutely zero interest from anyone about my original fiction.

That’s not a good feeling, let me tell you. It can be very disheartening. I might have thrown myself into fan fiction with a bit more enthusiasm then because at least there, in those communities, people liked what I wrote. Despite all the rejections from publishers and agents, I could at least say that in certain communities, my writing was well-loved and respected.

After bashing my head into the proverbial wall for a couple of years, I began to look into self-publishing. If my writing was genuinely good, then surely I’d be able to sell at least a few copies if I self-published. I wasn’t going to get ahead of myself and predict best-seller status or anything, but I had to be able to sell something, right?

I spent the next few months studying the market and learning how to make eBooks and design covers. Finally, I was ready. The very first book I self-published was The Last Huntress. That book was a labour of love. I pored over every sentence. I obsessed about the characters and the setting. I promoted it as best I could via the communities I was a part of, and then I sat back and waited for the magic to happen.

That last part, the bit about the magic? That was sarcasm.

There was no magic.

In that first month, I sold something like 17 copies.

All told, that translated to around $6.50 for me.

Staring at that result was not the happiest moment of my life. I did the mental arithmetic. Even if I increased my sales a hundred fold, it still wouldn’t be enough for me to make a living via writing. Heck, I could increase my sales three hundred fold and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Luckily, my years of unrelenting failure had somewhat numbed me to this latest failure. I decided to try again. The sequel and some other stories actually managed to do a little better, but that was hardly saying anything. It’s kind of like how if your leg has been cut off, you probably won’t feel the pain of a broken finger all that much.

After a full year of massive failure, my knee decided to explode because of course it did.

Cue surgery.

Cue misery.

Cue six weeks with my leg locked straight in a brace.

Sitting on my couch with my leg propped up beside me, I decided that I wanted to write something different. No more serious fantasy. No more high fantasy. My humorous fan fiction was what had first endeared me to readers, so maybe it was time to write something funny. Besides, it might take my mind off the fact that I had weeks of my leg in a brace to look forward to along with months of physiotherapy.

And don’t even me started on how awkward it was to have a bath or use the toilet.

I was throwing around ideas for what kind of story I could write when a scene came to mind: a necromancer being forced to beat his own wayward creation to death. All I really had was that one scene. It sounded pretty funny to me, so I started writing just to see where it would go.

Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Elf is what that idea became.

That book sold more copies in a month than all of my previous books combined had managed in a year. In fact, it managed to outdo all of my previous books combined several times over.

I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to see those numbers rolling in. It wasn’t a bestseller by any means, but it was the first time that I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t wasting my time, that maybe I could actually do this.

Things have changed a lot since then.

I’ve written more books, and although they’ve had varying degrees of success, they’ve all done so much better than I could ever have imagined during the doldrums of that first year. Humour, it seems, is what I’m best suited to, along with slice of life, and I’m more than happy to embrace that. I’ve even been lucky enough to have some of my books turned into audiobooks.

So there’s my origin story.

It’s easy, I think, to only remember the things that worked, but it’s important to remember the failures too. Writing isn’t an easy thing to do, especially if you’re aiming to make a living out of it. People can be cruel. You’re going to get reviews from people saying that you’re awful, that your story sucks, and that you should quit writing. But you’re also going to get reviews telling you that your story made someone’s day, that you made someone smile, that they can’t wait for the next book.

I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without those years of failure and disappointment. One of the most important qualities to have if you’re going to write humour is the ability to laugh at yourself and to make light of both the very strange and the very mundane. Moreover, a writer should be honest with themselves if they want to improve.

You can argue with reviewers. You can argue with critics. But you can’t argue with $6.50 worth of sales in a month.

I suppose that’s why I tend to be quite sympathetic to the underdog in my writing. I am one. I know what it’s like to put your heart into something and come up empty handed. I had that happen to me for years. I also know how important it is to celebrate the little wins and the small triumphs. Sometimes, they lead to bigger things, and sometimes, they’re all you have.

Well, that’s it. That’s my origin story.

It’s not exactly glorious. It’s filled with more than its fair share of failures. But it is my story. Mine. And that matters. Anyone who tells you that there isn’t some luck involved in the writing business is crazy. Luck is definitely a thing. But just being lucky isn’t enough. It takes years of hard work to become good enough to make the most of that luck, and it takes a certain level of idiocy/stubbornness to keep going despite everyone slamming doors in your face.

It’s a good thing, then, that I’m a lucky, stubborn idiot.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here. Also, just in case you missed it… The Sheep Dragon is out on Audible now! Get it here. It’s 26 and a half hours of fun, humour, and adventure!

#personal #musings #writing

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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

Text

Just a Friend

So I finally started to write another story...

I will try and post weekly, but can’t promise on account of real life and my inability to actually focus on translating what’s in my head onto paper (or screen!)

Getting the courage to post never gets any easier, but here goes. I hope you enjoy this frothy bit of fun. I will also post on AO3.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for being an excellent beta.

Chapter 1: From Airport to Aggravation

Bank holiday crowds, on the whole, are hell.

And this one is rapidly turning into an even deeper level of purgatory. The hottest May for years in Scotland and I’m stuck at Glasgow airport with a dozen women, collectively known as ‘Geillis’s Hen Party Posse’, each displaying varying degrees of inebriation, hangover or general sleep deprivation, and all aiming for the luggage carousel showing the flight from Barcelona. Which apparently is where several hundred other disembarked passengers are also heading.

Eventually, I manage to get a view of the bags and cases slowly making their way around the belt. They’re pretty picked over by this time, apart from the couple of boxes covered in gaffer tape that always seem to be first off a plane—any plane—and last to be collected. They’re always there, on every flight. Why is that?

I pause from my musings to wave frantically at Geillis, who now has a trolley and is clearing a path straight towards me.

“I got us a trolley.” she informs me, stating the obvious. “I thought it’d be easier. Have ye seen ours yet, Claire? I canna see the others. They must have already gone through.”

“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the little hatch, willing our bags to appear. All I want is to go home, put my sleep mask on and try and get some sleep. Three days in Barcelona celebrating Geillis’s forthcoming nuptials have worn me out, and, I glance at my watch, I am due in theatre in approximately seventeen hours time.

"It's there, it's there," Geillis points excitedly at the neon pink and green leopard print bag making its way towards us.

She makes a grab for it as I continue to look for my bag. Predictably, it’s one of the last ones on the carousel. I recognise it immediately from the piece of red gift ribbon tied to the handle of the plain black Samsonite. I load it onto the trolley and Geillis and I head through customs to join the rest of the posse.

We say our goodbyes loudly, with much hugging and kisses. A stranger viewing this scene might imagine we won’t be seeing each other again for weeks or even months. In truth, I’ll be seeing most of them in the next week or so at the hospital as our schedules coincide.

“Shall we two get a taxi, then?” Geillis asks me.

I start to answer as my mobile pings — a text from Frank...very nice, very caring, very predictable.

Darling, it’s been a long three days without you. I am ready to collect you from the airport if you would like. If not, might I see you later this evening? xxx

And that is very clearly Frank. Correct grammar and punctuation, even on his texts. I shake my head as if to drive away my inner bitch and pretend I haven’t read it. I will respond, of course, just later when I’m back at home.

So, I smile at Geillis and agree. “Of course, we can go halves.”

***********

As I walk into my flat, the peace and quiet and sheer bloody calm wraps itself around me like a swaddling cloth. It’s blissfully cool too, with all the shutters closed.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good time in Barcelona. It was actually great. But being in the company of others twenty four hours a day is wearing, much as I love them. And we all had to do everything together. No sneaking off for a solitary walk, or escaping to bed for a little siesta.

I deposit my suitcase by the bedroom door, slip off my converse, pour myself a glass of orange juice, settle down on the sofa and figure out how best to tell Frank not tonight without offending him.

Frank, Sorry but tonight isn’t —

I delete and try again.

Thanks for the offer to pick me up. I was already in the taxi when I got it. Can we give tonight a miss? Theatre in the morning and I’m knackered totally exhausted. You know what Geillis is like. Speak tomorrow, I promise. C

Frank knows what Geillis is like. Frank thinks Geillis is a bad influence on me, with her larger than life personality and wild ideas. I think Frank doesn’t really know me at all if he believes I can be influenced like that. I hang out with Geillis and my friends because they’re fun and we laugh… a lot.

Without realising, I feel my shoulder muscles relax as soon as I’ve sent the message. These are not good signs for my relationship with Frank. He’s investing far more into ‘us’ than I am willing to do. But as long as I’m honest with him…

There are advantages to being with Frank, of course. He’s punctual, very organised and a proficient and considerate lover. He always makes sure I come, even if I sometimes...er… exaggerate my reactions to hurry things along. So much for honesty, then.

I finish my orange juice and plan my evening. Four things to do - unpack, grab some food, shower and sleep. Not even going to wash my hair. That would really be too much effort, struggling with my untameable mane, and it’s going to be stuck under a surgical cap for most of tomorrow anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually move from the sofa. I could quite happily fall asleep there. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night—starving hungry and still smelling of sweaty airports. Reluctantly, I haul myself into a vertical position and head for my bedroom picking up my suitcase en route.

Opening the suitcase, I am not greeted with the expected haphazard mass of sun dresses, t shirts and shorts—all with the evocative aroma of Hawaiian Tropic—but a layer of white dress shirts, immaculately folded and the faint scent of a musky cologne.

Shit, shit, shit!! Some else has walked off with my black samsonite with the red ribbon on the handle. My evening plans are rapidly going awry. I delve into my handbag praying that I kept my boarding pass with the sticky bar code luggage receipt. The relief when I find it lurking in the bottom of my bag is immense. Quickly I google the airline lost baggage number and dial.

After a few bars of some god awful plinky plinky hold music, I hear a recorded message. “Your call is important to us, please hold. Your call is important to us, please hold.”

Good to know, then back to the plinky plinky before another message. “The office you are trying to reach is now closed. Please try again during office hours nine am to five thirty. Thank you.”

“If my call is so important to you, why is no one there at six o’clock?” I yell down the phone, but the plinky plinky ignores me and continues its irritating melody.

I sigh. I don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow morning to sort this out. Besides, by nine am tomorrow morning, I will be somewhat unavailable - reshaping the hip bone of a seven year old boy. So, I have no alternative. I will have to have a bit of a dig around this stranger’s suitcase, looking for any clue or contact details.

As I start to have a feel around, it occurs to me that some stranger might, at this very moment, be doing exactly the same thing — having a poke around my suitcase in the hope of finding my details. No doubt judging me based on my choice of holiday attire. And, I suddenly realise, his judgement may well be coloured by the discovery of some items of a more adult nature.

I say ‘he’, based on the XL white shirts, the pair of battered jeans and faded Scotland rugby shirt, but I could be wrong. I don’t have to dig any further into the case as I spy, in a mesh pocket, a neat rectangle of card with a name — James Fraser — a mobile number and an email address.

Relief sweeps over me. Perhaps we can get this all sorted tonight. Unless this James Fraser lives miles away and was just passing through Glasgow on his way to, say, the Outer Hebrides. That could be a whole other level of problem.

I quickly reach for my phone. Another message from Frank awaits.

Are you sure, darling? I’m looking forward to seeing you. Would tomorrow evening work for you?

I ignore it for the moment. Let me sort my luggage issue out first.

I dial the number on the card and begin to pace around my bedroom as it rings and rings. I am just about to give up when, thankfully, it’s answered.

“Hello?” A female voice asks warily.

I clear my throat and put on my most pleasant phone voice. “Is there a James Fraser there please?”

“Ye’ve the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry, I must have mis—“ I begin, but find myself apologising to dead air.

I try again, carefully comparing each digit to those written, very neatly, on the card.

“Hello?” The same female voice answers, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is the number I have for James Fra—“

“And I already told ye, ye’ve the wrong number. Dinna bother again.”

In the days before mobiles, I’m sure this would have been accompanied by a deafening crash as the receiver hit the cradle. Pressing a soft key doesn’t have the same dramatic effect. But I get the message anyway.

So, new plan needed. All I can do is email this James Fraser and hope he actually has written down the correct email address. If not, I’ll have to sort it out with the airline tomorrow afternoon.

My stomach rumbles and I suddenly realise that I’ve not eaten since breakfast, unless you count the slices of fruit in my jug of sangria. I wander into the kitchen and peruse the contents of my cupboards and fridge. I’m not the most gifted cook, but I’m not too bad and can usually rustle up something edible and fairly tasty. The bread feels a bit on the dry side but will be fine toasted, and I know I have eggs.

I put a knob of butter in a pan and text Frank while I’m waiting for it to sizzle.

Think tomoz will be ok. Talk 2morrow. C

I don’t normally use text speak at all, but something about Frank’s perfectly formed text messages always makes me want to rebel. I can imagine him wincing right now. He’s a professor at the university and is forever complaining about the standard of literacy amongst his undergraduates. If he thinks he has problems, he should try dealing with junior doctors.

With my scrambled egg on toast all eaten, I focus my attention on the email to James Fraser. I write it quickly, brief and to the point: I have your suitcase and therefore presume you have mine, can we meet to swap them over and here’s my phone number.

The longing for a shower and then bed is now overwhelming. I strip off and bundle all my clothes into the laundry basket, tie my hair up with a scrunchie and step into my shower. This is undoubtedly one of my favourite places on earth and possibly the reason that I bought this flat. Large enough for two, I suppose. Although none have yet been invited to partake in this heavenly experience. Maybe I’m saving that for someone extra special. It has a huge overhead rainfall shower head and a handheld shower head too.

My indulgences are all in here — a selection of expensive shower gels, scrubs and lotions and an assortment of huge fluffy bath towels. I choose a lavender scented gel and scrub all traces of the day from my skin.

Wrapping myself in one of my pristine white towels, I slather shea butter lotion on my slightly sun-burnt skin, noticing the uneven red patches where the sun cream hadn’t quite reached but at least it’s not sore.

A quick check of my emails shows there’s no word from James Fraser as yet, so I decide to just settle down to sleep and leave luggage worries until the morning. Fortunately, I had changed the sheets before my weekend away, so I simply unwrap my towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor and slide into bed. The feeling of the cool, crisp bedding against my skin is wonderful. I assume a sort of diagonal starfish position, not having to worry about any other occupants. It crosses my mind whether to reach for the tiny vibrator in my bedside drawer, but I’m too comfortable and drowsy for that, so instead I check my alarm and settle down for sleep.

#outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Just a Friend #chapter 1 #Here goes

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scripttorture · 3 years

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Any tips for handling a character who believes the stereotype that "no scars = no harm" when it comes to prison abuse, and is convinced b/c of this that they have no right to be upset about their own abuse cause their friends got physically smacked around, and they "only" got tazed/ humiliated by the guards? (They were in solitary too but they don't think that counts.) Any way to show that their treatment, while different, was just as harmful, when they themselves don't think that it could be?

Yes, I think I can help you out. :)

I think the key to this one is giving all of these characters space in the story and signalling to readers that this particular character is an unreliable narrator.

It’s easier to establish a narrator/character as unreliable if you’re writing using a third person perspective or switch perspectives throughout the story. However it is perfectly possible to do it from a first person perspective as well.

I’ll come back to that in a moment but I’m going to start with things that I think will help no matter your writing style.

The masterpost on common symptoms of torture is over here, and the post on memory problems specifically is over here.

If you haven’t already take a look at both posts. There’s a lot of variation in survivors: we know the possible psychological symptoms but survivors don’t typically experience all possible symptoms. We don’t know why some individuals experience specific symptoms and others get different symptoms. Which means that as writers there’s a lot of scope to choose the symptoms your characters experience.

You have multiple survivors here. The easy first step is to make sure they all have similar numbers of symptoms at similar levels of severity.

I think it’s also worth having some overlap in what the characters experience.

I don’t know how many character’s you’re planning to have but let’s say there are four, the one who survives clean torture and three others.

Let’s say that the symptoms you pick out for the character who survived clean torture are: depression, panic attacks, learning difficulties and intrusive memories. (I picked these at random.)

Showing variety in survivors is a good thing, so I wouldn’t suggest giving any of the friends exactly the same symptom pattern. But there’s no reason why one of them shouldn’t also have depression. The second could have panic attacks. The third might have learning difficulties and intrusive memories.

This gives you a way to encourage the readers to question this character’s interpretation of events. They’re saying they didn’t suffer ‘enough’, however the reader should be able to see that each of their friends is going through something similar.

If you’re writing from a third person perspective, or switching perspectives between the characters you can describe these symptoms in the same way for every character. Literally verbatim the same. Repeating it in this way should reinforce to the readers that this is the same thing and it’s just as serious for every character.

No matter what the characters themselves think.

Writing from first person perspective make things a little trickier but you still have a couple of options.

The most straight forward is to have other characters call them out. It doesn’t have to be the other survivors doing this (though it can be). Doctors, friends, family, any character who has the opportunity to see all of these survivors afterwards and witness their symptoms can call bullshit on any one of them trying to downplay their own symptoms.

Another option is having the friends talk, perhaps because the character who is downplaying their own symptoms is trying to be supportive. Having them sit there while their friend describes something that’s horribly familiar and letting them slowly come to that realisation on their own is a possibility. It would take a lot more time narratively.

If these characters have access to medical treatment or mental health services afterwards that’s another good way to bring this up.

People/characters can dismiss the opinions of experts. But this does very clearly tell the reader that clean torture is just as serious.

You can also use these similar symptom patterns without any overt conversations on the subject. Describing characters with similar symptoms showing similar behaviours and coming up with similar coping strategies can help underline that they’re experiencing the same thing.

For instance if you pick panic attacks as a symptom for the solitary survivor and one of the others, describing the way both of them flinch or freeze, the way they hyperventilate and shake. They could both (independently or together) discover that breathing exercises help.

They could both go to the doctor (one saying they were tortured and the other complaining of vague chest pains and heart racing) and walk away with the same medication.

Another possible approach is to pick out some symptoms during solitary and some long term symptoms afterwards that are… culturally regarded as more serious.

Most cultures find it a lot harder to dismiss hallucinations (which solitary can cause) and self mutilation then things like depression and anxiety.

I get the impression that in western cultures most people are primed to think of self harm as cutting. In reality there are a lot of behaviours people can engage in which leave them in pain and can cause serious injury. Repeatedly punching a wall for instance.

Having this character walk into a clinic, hand bruised and swelling up, find they’ve broken several fingers- And then having the doctor, still looking at her clipboard casually say ‘How long have you been self harming?’ That can really drive home, for the reader and the character how serious this is.

Self harm isn’t something that every writer is going to feel comfortable tackling. If you feel like it isn’t a good fit for your story and character then don’t use it.

But the hallucinations that can occur during solitary confinement tend to stop once someone is out of solitary. Which let’s you put in a symptom that is usually taken seriously without it becoming long term.

The hallucinations I’ve read about have been quite varied. The majority of them were unpleasant. A few were neutral. Many read a little like waking dreams. They varied in intensity from occasionally hearing voices in the pipes to fully blown immersive ‘worlds’.

There are quite a few examples in Shalev’s Sourcebook on Solitary Confinement. It’s available free on line and there’s a link in my source’s page and in the masterpost on solitary.

The final thing I have to suggest won’t necessarily be a fit for your story. I don’t suggest it very often. But there’s one kind of serious injury this sort of torture could cause that won’t necessarily be obvious straight away and would underline that these clean tortures were bloody serious.

Brain damage.

If someone is hit with a Taser or stun gun while standing then falling injuries can cause brain damage. Even mild brain damage can be incredibly debilitating.

I’ve actually been working on a story with a character that has a mild brain injury and I’ve found this website incredibly helpful for describing the effects.

Now the reasons this wouldn’t necessarily be a good fit is because brain damage can cause some pretty drastic behavioural and emotional changes. People with brain damage tend to be a lot more impulsive, have trouble identifying and controlling their emotions, difficulty communicating and planning. The list goes on. And it includes a lot of things that might make your character… Well something other then what you intended when you created them.

If this kind of disability moves the character too far away from your conception of them you don’t have to use it.

But they’re frightening words aren’t they? Brain damage. They underline the severity of the scenario in an undeniable way. Which makes it a possible answer to this writing problem.

Wrapping up I think it’s important to consider the kind of plot, characters and character interactions you want when you choose your strategy.

Some of these techniques work well together in a story. Some of them are probably better on their own.

Hopefully there’s enough varied suggestions here that you can find a good fit for your story. :)

Available on Wordpress.

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#writing advice #tw torture #tw self harm #tw suicide #clean torture #attitudes to clean tortures #writing survivors #writing recovery #writing symptoms #symptom severity #solitary confinement #effects of solitary confinement #mental illness #disability #brain damage

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atelier-dayz · 4 years

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When you have the time/feel up to it, would you mind sharing what the parallels between Jedi and mandalorians are? Pretty please? 🙏

AYE HELLO I WOULD BE HAPPY TO \o/

So this is rough since most of it is straight C&Ping from my spreadsheets so hopefully you’re not expecting an essay LOL

And this doesn’t include the stuff that I made up for my own stories like Mando’paru vs the Seven Forms of Lightsaber combat, etc.

Starting off with these two excerpts from Star Wars Insider 86:

“Across five millennia, the Mandalorians fought with and against a thousand armies on a thousand worlds. They learned to speak as many languages and absorbed weapons, technology and tactics from every war. And yet, despite the overwhelming influence of alien cultures, and the absence of a true home world and even species, their own language not only survived, but changed little; their way of life and their philosophy remained untouched; and their ideals and sense of family, of identity, of nation, were only strengthened. Armour is not what makes a Mandalorian. Armour is simply a manifestation of an impenetrable, unassailable heart.” - Mandalorians: Identity and Language, published by the Galactic Institute of Anthropology

and

"But the Mandalorians are an exception. They adopted a culture and became completely defined by it. Their nearest parallel, ironically, is the Jedi – with whom the Mandalorians have had so much antagonism and conflict."

1) The Jedi and Mandalorians are two cultures in which they grow/expand their numbers through adoption. They, as a result, absorb a lot of different alien cultures. And members do draw from their home cultures (Shaak Ti and Ahsoka, Luminara and Barris, etc) but there's also a distinct culture of their own.

As pointed out in those excerpts, while Mandalorians have/had the Mandalore system, a major part of their identity is as nomads, a diaspora. And the Jedi don't really a "home world" in a sense. They have/had Ilum, but that’s not an inhabitable planet, and they are based on Coruscant, but people wouldn't consider them Coruscanti.

And there's not one species that defines them, as Jedi or as Mandalorian. Instead each of them are bound together by their culture and philosophy.

(more under cut because it’s Long)

1.5) To reiterate, the primary means of expanding their numbers is through adoption. And! Both cultures highly value their younglings / foundlings. Kids are Very Important.

2) There’s the Mandalorian saying "Aliit ori'shya tal'din" or "Family is more than blood.” Pretty straightforward, found families are a Thing for Mandalorians. And while the Order doesn't disparage against blood ties (see Depa and Sar, Tiplar and Tiplee, etc) blood relations aren't what they use to define family!

Along the same vein, another Mandalorian saying "Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la" or "Nobody cares who your parent was, only the parent you'll be." As SW Insider 86 states, “Mandalorians believe that you are what you do, not what an accident of birth dictates." Similarly, for the Jedi, it doesn't matter where you come from; it's about what you choose to do.

3) Varying however much in adherence, both cultures have a code they live by. The Resol’nare for the Mandalorians, and the Jedi Code -- whatever that specifically entails since we don’t have many details about it. (For those in the back, no, it’s not the same as the meditation mantra.)

4) The Mandalorians hold the education, the raising and nurturing of children (beyond schoolwork, really preparation for life and survival) (referred to as bajur), to such importance as to have it as one of the six acts in their code. As for the Jedi, they very clearly place great important in teaching and learning. To quote Obi-wan, "teaching is a privilege. And it’s part of a Jedi’s responsibility to help train the next generation.” An important part of a Jedi Knight includes teaching initiates and/or taking on a padawan to pass forward the knowledge they have as well as to learn from their own students.

Which leads me appropriately to the shared emphasis in learning, in self-improvement and personal growth. Yoda says in one of the Age of Republic comics, “Good, questions are. Ask them we must. Certainty in our understanding, to arrogance it leads. To the dark side." As for the Mandalorians, there’s a post by freckledmcree that articulates the idea much better, but they have a philosophy against arasuum - which is stagnation. For them, to live is to constantly adapt and grow, because that’s how they can survive and that’s how they become darasuum or eternal.

5) Which is a good segue into their philosophy on death! On a superficial level, both the Mandalorians and the Jedi cremate their dead. And in regards to death, the Mandalorians have what I’ve been referring to in fic as the Litany, something they recite in daily remembrance: “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.” (“I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.”) They also have a phrase about the dead as “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la” or “Not gone, merely marching far away.” So death isn’t The End for them, merely a different journey. As for Jedi, one of the first basic beliefs we learn from the OT and onwards is that a Jedi doesn't really die, they pass into the Force. They continue on, following a path they all travel eventually.

6) Mandalorians and Jedi both have a physical object that distinguishes them as them. There’s the beskar’gam for the Mandalorians, and the lightsaber for the Jedi. However! To again quote SW Insider 86, "Armour is not what makes a Mandalorian. Armour is simply a manifestation of an impenetrable, unassailable heart.” A Mandalorian without his armour is still a Mandalorian. Likewise, to quote Cal, "Having a lightsaber isn't what makes you a Jedi." A Jedi is more than just their lightsaber; it’s their philosophy and knowledge and etc that makes them a Jedi!

7) Gender and gender roles are NOT a thing in Mandalorian culture. (I’m ignoring the gender roles bit in SW Insider 86 because screw you KT.) I can't imagine gender and the typical social constructs we think of that come with gender holding much importance to Jedi either.

Also attraction, for a Mandalorian, is based on character rather than physical appearance. Which I also imagine to be the case for Jedi if they chose to pursue relationships.

8) Training begins when they're young for both Mandalorians and Jedi, and they’re considered ready to venture out into the galaxy in their teens - roughly speaking. Mandalorians are considered "adults" at 13. Jedi become padawans and go out on missions sometime in their teens, though we don’t have a specific age range. (Typically older than 13 before the Clone Wars happened if we’re basing off remarks about Ahsoka in TCW.)

When a Mandalorian becomes an adult, they go through a rite of passage in military and survival skills that make them legally adults. This sounds similar to, of course, the Jedi Trials for a padawan to become a knight.

9) Both groups suffered the effects of genocide. It seems the Sith/Empire targeted any groups that would pose a threat to their power/rule, and these included the Jedi (Order 66 and the hunting of any FSs afterwards) and the Mandalorians (The Night of A Thousand Tears and afterwards).

10) Aaand this one is silly BUT if you want to keep a low profile, wear a poncho! 😂

#notactuallyadeviant #miya replies #not sure what to tag this hm #star wars #mando'ade #jedi order

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

[Extra #7 - Pre-fic by roughly five years, so again the only people who know anything is different from before is Wangxian. I had an anonymous request for a look at A-Yuan living his best AU life, so here it is: a few snapshots of Wen Yuan/Sizhui’s summer school days making friends in Cloud Recesses. Enjoy <3]

[Masterpost]

“Dafan Wen Clan is presenting!”

Wen Sizhui takes a deep breath and steps around his desk, one of Wen Qing’s most highly favored apprentices - besides himself - at his side. They step to the center of the room and Wen Sizhui salutes the men seated on the dais at the front of the room.

“Wen Sizhui, Dafan Wen, here to learn from the Grandmaster,” he greets with his perpetual soft smile. He keeps his eyes trained on Qingheng-Jun and Grandmaster Lan, but it’s impossible not to notice the jarring note of black and red behind and a bit to the left of them. He ignores it for the moment - he’s positive that Wei Wuxian will find him later anyway to ask after Wen Qing and Wen Ning, and Wen Qing will kill him if he messes this up because he got distracted by her friend. He kneels to complete a kowtow and then straightens again. “I know that the Grandmaster values knowledge of all varieties. I present Grandmaster Lan with this book personally compiled by Wen-Zongzhu herself for the study of all as well as for practical use by the Gusu Lan healers. It details her latest research into medicinal practices using ingredients unique to Gusu Province, paired with innovative and varied methods of application. I hope the Grandmaster will find it suitable.”

A murmur sweeps briefly through the room around them, and Wen Sizhui stifles a wider smile, eyes still trained on the Lan Sect Leader and his brother who will be their teacher for the summer. Both of them are too well-mannered to show their surprise at such a highly-sought after gift, but Wen Sizhui breaks his own rule to allow himself a single glance at the men standing on the dais with them. He finds three different variations of similar reactions - Zewu-Jun is smiling gently at him and offers him a slight nod, Hanguang-Jun is practically radiating a pleased sort of smugness as he stares into the middle distance in his general direction, and Wei Wuxian is grinning openly from ear to ear. When he catches Wen Sizhui looking he shoots him a quick thumbs up and Wen Sizhui quickly returns his gaze to the two men seated in front, lest his attention wander too far or his amusement at Wei Wuxian’s antics show in his expression.

“A fitting gift,” Qingheng-Jun replies when the quick susurrus of whispered surprise from the other students has died down. “A treasure indeed, to benefit so from Wen-Zongzhu’s expertise.” He waves for the closest Lan attendant to step forward and take the tome from Wen Huali beside him.

The nervous tension leaves Wen Sizhui’s shoulders as he’s allowed to retreat behind his desk again, the attendant already calling for the next student.

“Lanling Jin is presenting!”

----

“I swear I thought I was going to puke that whole time - and I wasn’t even presenting anything! I’m glad I didn’t eat breakfast but I’m starving now,” Lan Jingyi exclaims that evening around a mouthful of rice and roasted vegetables.

“I thought Lans don’t talk during meals,” Jin Ling shoots back with a hint of a curl to his lip as he looks at the half-chewed food visible in Lan Jingyi’s open mouth with clear distaste.

“We don’t, but neither of you are Lan, and we’re not eating in the dining hall anyway so shut your mouth,” Lan Jingyi retorts, all lazy insolence that Wen Sizhui finds both funny and confusing, given the fact that this boy is a Lan.

“Why were you nervous watching the rest of us present our gifts to Grandmaster Lan, Lan Jingyi?” he asks before Jin Ling can turn a darker shade of red while he splutters for a retort - Wen Sizhui gets the feeling he’s used to being shown at least some level of deference as the oldest of his siblings and the Jin Sect Heir (deference which Lan Jingyi is pointedly not showing him), but he also gets the feeling that Jin Ling is just one of those people who’s generally easy to tease.

“All that pressure! Weren’t you scared you’d mess up in front of everybody?!”

“Who cares? It’s just Great-Uncle Lan you have to impress and he’s not scary at all!”

Wen Sizhui and Lan Jingyi both pause and look at him straight-on at that and Jin Ling blushes again, seeming suddenly surprised to have their full attention on him even though he’s been loud-mouthing since he stepped foot in Cloud Recesses the previous day, practically begging to be paid attention to.

“What?” he adds, defensive.

“I confess that I am not very educated in some of the intricacies of the Great Sect bloodlines, Aunt Qing doesn’t enforce learning it. You are related to Grandmaster Lan and Qingheng-Jun?”

Jin Ling huffs at that and scowls down at his bowl.

“We don’t have time for me to tell you who I’m related to, it’s easier to ask who I’m not related to I swear.”

“Oh is this gossip? Is this sweet, juicy gossip?” Lan Jingyi asks with far too much enthusiasm, leaning over the table to poke a finger into Jin Ling’s upper arm, which the Jin Heir instantly swats away with a glare.

“No it’s not gossip, idiot, and Lans aren’t supposed to gossip anyway! But everyone knows Uncle Chen is married to Uncle Yao and that Uncle Yao is my dad’s brother.”

“I thought Zewu-Jun is married to Chifeng-Zun of Qinghe Nie?”

“He’s married to both of them,” Lan Jingyi pipes up before Jin Ling can. “They all live here but I never really see them much. Well - Zewu-Jun I see slightly more often, of course, but Chifeng-Zun and Lianfang-Zun don’t interact with us disciples very much except for when we’re learning about the Nie Sect and they’re available to give lectures or demonstrations.”

“And Jin-gongzi - you visit your uncles enough to be familiar with Qingheng-Jun and the Grandmaster?”

“I don’t actually come here to Cloud Recesses very often anymore it happened more often when I was a kid, but Second Great-Uncle comes to see us in Lanling all the time, and Uncle Chen comes to see us at least a couple of times a year with Uncle Yao and Uncle Jue.”

Wen Sizhui’s head is beginning to hurt.

“Wei-Qianbei is married to Hanguang-Jun,” he points out next and Jin Ling rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t pop out of his skull.

“Believe me, I know.”

“So you are also related to them?”

“Twice over, yeah.”

“Wait what?” Lan Jingyi interjects, laughter already suffusing his voice. “How are you related to them twice?”

“My mom is Uncle Xian’s sister.”

“Wait whoa hold on that means you’re also related to Jiang-gongzi?!” Jingyi adds and now he’s definitely laughing - Jin Ling’s expression has gone positively pained which Wen Sizhui will admit is actually pretty funny. Jin Ling takes a deep breath in and lays his hands flat on the table, looking like he’s bracing for war.

“Alright, better to just get this all out of the way now. I’m only going to say this once, and you two had better keep up because I’m not repeating anything! I hate when I have to recite all of this, it’s ridiculous. But - okay. My dad’s second brother is Uncle Yao, who is married to Uncle Chen and Uncle Jue. So Uncle Ji is my Uncle once because he’s Uncle Chen’s brother, and then Uncle Xian is my Uncle once because he’s married to Uncle Ji. Lan-Zongzhu and Grandmaster Lan are my Great-Uncles, Madam Lan is my Great-Aunt.

“My mom’s youngest brother is Uncle Cheng, who is married to Uncle Sang who is Nie-Zongzhu, who is also my uncle because of Uncle Jue being married to Uncle Yao, so that’s twice related for both of them, too. My mom’s other brother is Uncle Xian, who is married to Uncle Ji so there’s the second time for both of them. Jiang-Zongzhu is my Great-Uncle and Madam Yu is my Great-Aunt. And then I have my Uncle Yu, but he’s just my dad’s youngest brother and he’s not married to anybody, and my Aunt Su is their sister but she isn’t married to anybody either.”

There’s a long silence while Wen Sizhui and Lan Jingyi stare at each other wide-eyed across the table.

“Remind me to send my Aunt Qing a thank you letter for not making me learn how all of this works,” Wen Sizhui finally says and Lan Jingyi bursts out laughing so loudly it startles a nearby flock of birds into flying off with a loud rustling of wings.

Wen Sizhui hides a smile behind a bite of his soup as Jin Ling shoves Lan Jingyi off his seat (only for him to keep laughing on the ground) with a snapped, “Shut up!”

As he watches his new friends he thinks to himself that he’ll have to remember to also thank her for allowing him to be the first Wen besides her and Uncle Ning to attend the Gusu Lan lectures in decades.

----

Wen Sizhui is doing his best to read Wen Qing’s return letter a few weeks later in the shade of a tree in the back hill. It would be easier without constant interruption, but he doesn’t mind the distraction in the end, and he’ll have plenty of time to finish reading the letter later. New friends are equally as important.

Ouyang Zizhen sighs again next to him and Wen Sizhui glances up from his letter to find him forlornly plucking the petals off a flower, a small pile of plucked blades of grass already neatly stacked in front of him.

“Zizhen,” he prompts, smiling indulgently when the other boy looks up at him with a truly impressive pout. It would work better on him had he not seen Wen Ning give Wen Qing some equally impressive doe-eyed pouts over the years (and perhaps learned how to do it himself from his uncle - it was the easiest way to be given extra sweets as a child). “You didn’t need to stay behind with me if you wanted to go to Caiyi with Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi.”

“Well I didn’t like the thought of you hanging out here by yourself on such a nice day! Are you sure you’re not a Lan with all this...meditating and quietly enjoying nature that you like to do?”

“Yes, I’m definitely a Wen,” he chuckles as he folds the letter up and tucks it into his sleeve. “My aunt says that we have to take good care of ourselves to be able to most effectively heal others, and meditation is good for you. The Lan Sect are masters at it, their lessons are extremely beneficial, and this weather is perfect for it.”

Ouyang Zizhen is grumbling something about how girls are extra flirty when the weather’s nice like this, and that Caiyi is apparently full of pretty girls just waiting to be flirted with, when a cheerful call suddenly rings out through the little field.

“Aiyah - Lan Zhan!! Look at these awful children stealing our favorite picnic spot!” Ouyang Zizhen scrambles to sit up and Wen Sizhui glances further up the ridge to see Wei Wuxian standing there with a wide grin and with his hands on his hips, Lan Wangji a silent pillar of icy white beside him.

“Wei-Qianbei!” Ouyang Zizhen squeaks, already nervous - it had become clear to the other three soon after the Ouyang heir had joined their friend group that authority figures make him nervous and they’ve been trying to help him with it, but it’s slow-going somewhere as tradition-bound as Cloud Recesses.

“Hello Wei-Qianbei, Hanguang-Jun,” Wen Sizhui greets politely for both of them, getting to his feet and helping Ouyang Zizhen to his so they can bow as the two men approach, though Wei Wuxian reaches them first by a long shot.

“What are two fine young gentlemen like yourselves doing hiding out in the back hills on such a nice day?” Wei Wuxian teases with narrowed eyes, a playful grin already tipping up the corners of his mouth.

“I was reading a letter from my aunt and Zizhen was keeping me company,” Wen Sizhui supplies before any assumptions can be made - he knows if anyone will jump to the most embarrassing assumptions it’ll be Wei Wuxian, even if he’s just doing it to tease.

“Ahh Wen Qing! How is she these days? Still terrifying?” Wei Wuxian laughs as Lan Wangji draws level with them - he had taken a much more sedate pace than his husband’s energetic bounding and sliding down the hillside to get to where the two teenagers are set up for their quiet afternoon.

“It depends on what frightens you, Wei-Qianbei,” Wen Sizhui replies sweetly with his most guileless smile. Between one blink and the next he’s got three long needles between his fingers, withdrawn from a pocket in his sleeve, and Wei Wuxian yelps, instantly ducking back a pace to half-hide behind Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“Oohhhh I do not like how much you remind me of her!” he laughs, eyes bright. “Aiyah, put those away, Wen-gongzi! No one’s sick here, no need for your needles, put them away!”

Wen Sizhui tucks the needles back into his sleeve smoothly, still smiling. Ouyang Zizhen has, thankfully, relaxed marginally where he’s standing next to him. It’s difficult to be afraid of a man who goes around hiding behind his husband because of a silly little thing like a needle.

“Wen-Zongzhu sends her greetings to both of you along with a...not very gentle reminder that it is your turn to visit her in Dafan this year as she and Uncle Ning have visited you in your travels the past two years in a row,” he reports dutifully once Wei Wuxian has righted himself and straightened out his robes.

“Ah such a filial boy, passing along your Aunt’s messages! And I appreciate that you didn’t quote her word-for-word as I’m assuming there were threats involved,” Wei Wuxian praises with a grin and a nudge of his elbow against Lan Wangji, who’s watching their conversation with his usual stoicism. “I’ll write her back myself though, don’t worry about it. And Lan Zhan and I will find another spot to while away our afternoon, go back to enjoying yourselves!”

Wen Sizhui and Ouyang Zizhen stay standing even after parting salutes have been exchanged, the pair of them turning in place to watch Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji continue on their way further into the hill, hands subtly linked under the trailing material of their sleeves. Ouyang Zizhen eventually sighs again and drops back down into his spot to continue assaulting the poor flower he’s still picking apart, but Wen Sizhui can’t resist watching the pair of them a few moments longer.

They make for a striking couple, he’ll readily admit that much. The both of them are tall and broad-shouldered, Lan Wangji just slightly more so in both aspects. While Wei Wuxian’s dark wardrobe is a jarring contrast amongst the rest of the Lan Sect while in Cloud Recesses, out here in the mountain with no one around him but Lan Wangji they just look like two halves of a whole, light and dark, evenly matched. The tips of Lan Wangji’s silver guan glint in the sun, Wei Wuxian’s worn and time-dark leather band around the base of his ponytail its humble but equally elegant opposite.

Just before the pair has completely disappeared from sight between the trees, he sees them pause to embrace, Lan Wangji’s arms curling around Wei Wuxian’s waist and Wei Wuxian’s arms around his husband’s neck. He blushes slightly and averts his eyes to give them the privacy they seem to think they have and he returns to his seat next to Ouyang Zizhen, who sighs again but this time it sounds different. When Wen Sizhui glances down at him it’s to find a slightly dreamy expression on his face.

“Imagine having such gentlemen for uncles,” he supplies for an explanation when he notices Wen Sizhui looking at him curiously. “Jin Ling has nearly every major Sect Leader and Heir in his immediate family tree, do you think he’s immune to that...aura they all have around them by now?”

“You should ask him when he and Lan Jingyi get back,” Wen Sizhui teases with a smile, well aware by now of how such a question would be received by their prickly friend. “I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to answer yet more questions about his uncles.”

“A more important question to irritate the Young Mistress with is if Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s love story is true.”

“That depends on what version of it you’ve heard,” Wen Sizhui laughs as he gives up on any further meditation for the day and lays down in the grass beside his friend, eyes closed against the bright blue of the summer sky overhead. “All I’ve heard is the short version from my aunt, and she’s not what anyone would call a romantic - at least not that I’ve seen. Tell me the story?”

Ouyang Zizhen takes to telling it with relish, embellishing so many mundane things with such overly poetic language and dramatic sighs that Wen Sizhui can’t help but laugh occasionally, in the hazy way people laugh when they’re warm and content in the grass with a soft breeze stirring the scent of magnolias through the air.

By the time their friends find them in the evening Wen Sizhui has been treated to as many stories as Ouyang Zizhen can think to tell - romantic ones, funny ones, even folk tales he tells his sisters to help them sleep at night. Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling join them with little fanfare and only a little bit of roughhousing, and Wen Sizhui basks in both the golden hour and the presence of these boys who have somehow, over the course of mere weeks, become his closest friends.

----

“Why the pout so early in the morning, Young Mistress?” Lan Jingyi yawns behind his hand a few days later as Jin Ling joins the rest of them on the path to breakfast in the main dining hall for all the students.

“Uncle Ji stopped me to talk on my way out the door,” he replies around a yawn of his own, not even rising to the obvious bait of Lan Jingyi’s favorite nickname for him.

“What did he want to say?” Wen Sizhui prompts, genuinely curious to know what someone as aloof as Lan Wangji would want to say to his nephew at 6 in the morning that would also make said nephew so grumpy.

“ ‘Dinner’,” Jin Ling replies in such a good imitation of Lan Wangji’s cool, dispassionate tone that Ouyang Zizhen snorts.

“That’s it?” Lan Jingyi grumbles, likely irritated even by the prospect of being approached so early in the morning for something so simple.

“Yeah? He doesn’t usually say much if he doesn’t have to. It means he wants me to come have dinner with him and Uncle Xian tonight, probably so they can ask me how things are going with my classes.”

“And you just...know that. From one word.” The skepticism dripping from Lan Jingyi’s tone is too thick to be missed. Jin Ling makes a rude gesture in his direction.

“Yes, stupid. I’ve known him my whole life, of course I know how to talk to him, and my little brother talks like that too. Don’t judge me just because you’re too dumb to figure out what people are trying to say without it being spelled out for you.”

Lan Jingyi makes a half-hearted grab for him as if to pull him into a headlock and Ouyang Zizhen whines, shoving them both in different directions. “It’s too early for you two to start this, just drop it,” he pouts and Wen Sizhui is in full agreement with that. He doesn’t mind waking early, he actually enjoys it now that he’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean he wants to put up with his friends wrestling in the middle of Cloud Recesses when he could be eating breakfast.

“Is it strange for you to be attending lectures knowing that so much of your family is nearby when the rest of us are far from ours?” Wen Sizhui asks mainly to keep everyone awake and paying attention once the roughhousing has officially been put on hold and they’re all back to shuffling blearily along and yawning behind their hands as they go.

“Not really,” Jin Ling shrugs. “They’ve all been good about giving me space like any other disciple. I probably have Uncle Ji to thank for that, the rest of them are...clingy. Besides, pretty much everywhere I go I’m related to somebody. You get used to it.”

Wen Sizhui startles as Ouyang Zizhen nudges him in the side with a bony elbow and he glances at his friend first to see what he wants before following his gaze. The four of them stumble to a clumsy halt and dip into bows as they realize they’ve come face to face with Lan Xichen walking in the opposite direction back towards the residences, a basket from the kitchens in hand.

“Zewu-Jun,” they all greet and Lan Xichen smiles as he finishes closing the distance between them to return their bows with a nod - Wen Sizhui is determined to find out how the Lans (well..perhaps minus Lan Jingyi) can manage to turn every movement into something so regal.

“Wen-gongzi, Ouyang-gongzi, Lan Jingyi, A-Ling. I hope your morning is going well,” he greets in return, voice warm.

“Yes Zewu-Jun,” they chorus, only Lan Jingyi ruins it a bit with another wide yawn. Thankfully Lan Xichen just chuckles with what seems like understanding.

“I will not keep you from your breakfasts, then, nor would my husbands appreciate a delay in ours. A-Ling, shall I pass your greetings on to them?” There’s a distinct note of teasing under the polite question and Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen both stifle snorts behind their hands. Jin Ling, for once, has the grace to just sigh, seeming momentarily resigned to his lot in life.

“Yes Uncle Chen,” he mumbles, his attitude only making Lan Xichen smile wider. They exchange another round of salutes and step past each other, Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen instantly pulling further ahead. Wen Sizhui glances over his shoulder in time to see Lan Xichen pause to give Jin Ling a pat on the shoulder and murmur something quietly just for him, both of which Jin Ling accepts with an affectionate smile that transforms his whole face. For all that Jin Ling bemoans his truly convoluted family situation to his friends, Wen Sizhui thinks that, if it were him, it would be nice to know that he’s loved no matter where he goes - and looking at the smile on his friend’s face, he realizes it might be possible that he feels the same.

Jin Ling turns forward again to catch him looking and Wen Sizhui expects him to bluster and fuss at him to hide the moment of vulnerability, but instead all he does is blush a bit and duck his head, that pleased little smile still on his face, and step forward to join him so they can finish walking to the dining hall in peaceful quiet.

----

“A-Ling! Hey!!”

“Oh gods it’s Uncle day,” the nephew in question sighs with a roll of his eyes, tipping his head back as if the sky will have any reprieve to offer him from the affections of his family.

“Three out of five before lunch, that’s a decent lead going into the afternoon,” Ouyang Zizhen remarks with a put-upon accent and mannerisms, both of which Lan Jingyi instantly copies, stroking an imaginary beard as he leans his shoulder against Ouyang Zizhen’s and tips his head back to look down the length of his nose at Jin Ling.

“Indeed, will the Young Mistress attempt a full score today? It’s a tricky feat, but it seems the uncles themselves are more than willing to help by seeking Young Mistress out whenever he dares to step foot outside.”

“Shut up you two,” Jin Ling hisses as Wen Sizhui laughs into his sleeve. “You’re so annoying!”

“Shall we count the Great Uncles as double points if they make an appearance as well?” Lan Jingyi addresses the question to Ouyang Zizhen, ignoring Jin Ling entirely save for a hand raised in his face to block his angry glaring.

“No, at least triple, I would say. Sizhui?”

“Four points each for Great Uncles, they are both a rare sighting out in the wild,” he supplies dutifully, as serene as ever as Jin Ling splutters and starts throwing punches - not at him, never at him, which Wen Sizhui would be lying if he said he hasn’t noticed.

“Ah ah, hey!” Wei Wuxian laughs as he draws up next to them to put a restraining hand on Jin Ling’s shoulder. “While I fully support fighting while you’re young you’re supposed to save it for your enemies!”

“They are my enemies,” Jin Ling grumbles as Wei Wuxian waves off the attempts of the other three to stand and bow.

“Don’t get up, don’t get up! Aiyah your manners are too good, all of you. Where are yours, A-Ling?” Lan Jingyi’s eyes and grin both go wide with pure, mischievous delight as Wei Wuxian ruffles his free hand in Jin Ling’s hair, making him squawk and duck away from his grip.

“Da-jiu!!” Jin Ling snaps as Wei Wuxian throws his head back to laugh.

“Hush A-Ling, you can’t expect me to believe you haven’t missed getting teased by an uncle this last month since you left home, I’m just filling in for Mo Xuanyu! I have to go set up to teach the babies their archery basics so I’ll be on my way, but Lan Zhan asked you to come have dinner with us this evening, yes?”

“Yes,” Jin Ling mutters, still looking mutinous.

“Good! The invitation is actually for all four of you, I realized he probably didn’t make that clear.” Wen Sizhui looks up at that, surprise written as clearly on his face as it is on Ouyang Zizhen’s and Lan Jingyi’s. “Why are you all looking at me like that?” Wei Wuxian laughs.

“In the Jingshi? With you and Hanguang-Jun?” Lan Jingyi pipes up, looking starstruck.

“Of course! It’ll be nice, Lan Zhan’s going to cook and I’m going to sneak behind him and spice things properly. We want to see A-Ling and we thought it would be nice to have all of you over together since you’ve become such good friends.”

“Of course, Wei-qianbei,” Wen Sizhui replies with a smile. “Thank you for the invitation, we will be happy to accept.”

“Great! So polite! Jin Ling is so lucky to have such examples of gentlemanly behavior to learn from,” Wei Wuxian teases, ducking away from Jin Ling’s weak punch in his direction with another laugh. He offers them a jaunty parting salute before stepping back onto the main path.

“I’m telling er-jiu that you messed with me so he can come kick your ass!” Jin Ling shouts after his retreating back. Wei Wuxian just laughs again and waves a hand without even bothering to look back at them.

“Hey - Jin-gongzi,” Lan Jingyi says once Wei Wuxian has turned the corner and is out of sight. He smirks when Jin Ling turns to give him a wary look. “No shouting in Cloud Recesses.”

Wen Sizhui has to stand up and back away from the table to avoid several flailing limbs as Jin Ling goes in for a tackle, and he’s glad that the four of them had chosen to study far away from the main teaching pavilions as his laughter and his friends’ playful shouts echo off the trees around them.

----

“Lan Zhaaaan!” Wei Wuxian’s whining is audible as soon as the four junior disciples step through the gate that leads to the yard surrounding the Jingshi that evening. “Come on, they’ve been eating nothing but boring Lan food for a month! I’m sure they’ll appreciate some spice and flavor!”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s quiet admonishment is only audible because their doors are already thrown open to the warm summer breeze.

“Okay fine, we can set out the chili oil and let them decide for themselves. But we already know that A-Ling will want it! Just let me spice my bowl and his at least!”

Wen Sizhui glances at Jin Ling to try to gauge his reaction but the back of his head doesn’t offer any answers. It feels strange to even be anywhere near the private home of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, let alone to approach it with the intention to go inside, but Jin Ling clearly feels right at home doing so - and leading his three friends to do so as well.

“Da-jiu!” he shouts now while they’re still crossing the yard and there’s a clatter from inside the house shortly followed by Wei Wuxian bounding up to the threshold to grin at them.

“A-Ling! My favorite first nephew!” he cries, flinging one arm wide. He seems, if possible, even more energetic than when he can be seen flitting around the public spaces of Cloud Recesses.

“You say that all the time, da-jiu, and it never stops being ridiculous.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me A-Ling, you look just like your er-jiu when you do that, it’s creepy! Come in, come in, all four of you. Lan Zhan’s just finishing dinner.”

The four of them troop into the house and Wen Sizhui tries not to look around the space quite as obviously as Lan Jingyi is doing, but he can’t help but be curious. Their hosts at least don’t seem to notice, or if they do they don’t mind. Jin Ling gestures for them to settle at a table and begins to pour tea for them all as Wei Wuxian flits back to his husband’s side at the hearth on the other end of the main room.

“Where’s A-Xiao?” Jin Ling asks his uncles once the four of them are all settled in with tea and the silence threatens to creep in, thick and heavy. “My cousin,” he supplies quietly to the rest of them at the table.

“Dormitories,” Lan Wangji replies, his deep, steady voice instantly soothing some of the awkwardness curling through Wen Sizhui’s chest.

“Oh. When did he start taking classes with everyone else?”

“Two months ago, right after we gave him his courtesy name and his ribbon. He’s Lan Xiafeng now, so you know just in case you run into him, but it’s taking him a while to get used to it,” Wei Wuxian supplies as he starts bringing finished dishes over to the table with surprisingly good balance. “Honestly he’s been ready for his formal studies for longer than that from a teacher’s standpoint, but we wanted him to choose when to move to the dormitories and begin his lessons with everyone else. He’d love to see you sometime if you can spare him a minute, though,” he continues. Wen Sizhui wonders if he should feel uncomfortable that they’re discussing family business in front of them and a glance at Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen proves that they’re looking similarly at a loss.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji calls without looking up from whatever he’s stirring and Wei Wuxian immediately flaps his hands a bit (thankfully he’s not still holding any dishes when he does it). “Guests.”

“Aiyah, I know Lan Zhan, but A-Ling asked! But of course you’re right anyway, enough family talk,” he sighs as he plops down at one of the two remaining place settings to grin at all of them. “I may mostly teach the babies these days but I remember what it was like both to take and teach the lessons you four are in. Tell me about them, come on! Don’t be shy.”

Lan Wangji brings the rest of the dishes over in silence over the next few minutes as Jin Ling practically bullies Wen Sizhui, Ouyang Zizhen, and Lan Jingyi out of their nervousness to get them talking. It doesn’t take too long before Wei Wuxian’s natural charisma and questions have the conversation flowing more freely, even once they begin eating. Wen Sizhui notices about halfway through the meal that Lan Wangji seems to uphold the Lan rule of no speaking during meals - even when Wei Wuxian tries to get him to offer up an opinion or a potential solution to whatever scenario they’re discussing - but at the same time he makes no move to stop the others from chatting, not even Lan Jingyi.

He studies Lan Wangji as subtly as he can in glances and out of the corners of his eyes, looking for the things that Jin Ling had told them about that afternoon in preparation for dinner. Jin Ling had sworn that if you look close enough, Lan Wangji’s face is actually very expressive, much more so than he seems from a distance, and that his expressions can help with decoding what he says when he hardly uses words. ‘It’s just a matter of knowing what to look for and paying enough attention to spot it’, Jin Ling had said with all the confidence that comes from a lifetime of prior experience, as if it should be that easy for everyone else.

It takes most of the remainder of the meal for Wen Sizhui to begin to see it. Lan Jingyi has relaxed enough to start teasing everyone at the table (well, everyone who’s not Lan Wangji) and something he has just said makes Wei Wuxian throw his head back and laugh. While the eye would normally be drawn to Wei Wuxian’s boisterous character, Wen Sizhui glances at Lan Wangji beside the other man just in time to spot the ghost of a smile on his lips and the way his eyebrows relax marginally out of their perpetually stern set, somehow managing to soften not only his eyes but his entire countenance. It’s such a small, subtle change, but now that he’s noticed it he can’t help but feel like Lan Wangji is...glowing. Practically radiating silent contentment, like a cat sleeping curled in a beam of summer sunshine or on a hearth in front of a fire in the winter.

Wen Sizhui is still staring (on accident) when Lan Wangji turns his head and meets his eyes, his smile somehow managing to gentle even further until it becomes so unexpectedly tender that Wen Sizhui can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed for getting caught looking. He offers his own smile back, an easy slip of a thing that feels right at home on his lips, and after a long moment Lan Wangji breaks the contact with a nod and a return of his gaze back to his husband at his side.

Wen Sizhui returns to the conversation at hand - something about talisman theory that is being hotly debated between Wei Wuxian, Jin Ling, and Ouyang Zizhen (who has also apparently relaxed in response to Wei Wuxian’s gregariousness). The conversation continues to fly quickly for the rest of the evening - witty and loud and fun - until they have to leave to make it back to their dorms for curfew.

They say their goodbyes and their thank you’s on the threshold of the porch and then step out of the warm light of the Jingshi into the dark hum of the evening, Wen Sizhui trailing behind his friends still chatting and laughing amongst themselves. At the last moment, he can’t quite resist turning to glance over his shoulder one more time, back towards the comfortable home tucked unobtrusively into its little copse of bamboo.

The sight of the warmly lit silhouettes of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian standing in the door to their home, Wei Wuxian leaning against his husband’s side with his head on his shoulder, imprints itself instantly into his mind like the bold strokes of a painting. He raises one hand in a tentative wave and instantly receives one in return from Wei Wuxian.

For propriety’s sake, he’s willing to pretend not to hear the gentle, “Be good, A-Yuan,” that follows after him onto the path, Lan Wangji’s mellow tones turning the goodbye into something so soft that it feels like a hug. Maybe, Wen Sizhui supposes as he gets ready for bed in the room he shares with Jin Ling a few minutes later, he’s loved here too.

#The untamed fanfic #the junior quartet #Jin Ling #Lan Jingyi #Ouyang Zizhen #Lan Sizhui #only he's Wen Sizhui this time around #Y'all I know the courtesy name was a product of LWJ missing WWX but I just do not have the energy to come up with something new for him #I already made courtesy names for Jin Ling's oc brothers and for Lan Xiafeng I'm done lol #If anyone wants to know any of my headcanons for these boys/how things are for them in this AU just let me know!#Anon I hope you like it ^_^#Also - Jin Ling has TOO MANY UNCLES I'M SORRY I CAN'T FIGURE OUT GOOD TITLES FOR ALL OF THEM #WHO IN THE WORLD HAS SO MANY UNCLES?! NOBODY #I'm sure it's probably not the greatest for JL to call them all by their names but I just. I can't #prompt fill

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joonkorre · 3 years

Text

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared.

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been.

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up.

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind.

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two).

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

#drarry #drarrymicrofic #drarry fic #fanfic #harry potter #draco malfoy #blanket fort #oneshot #3k words #draco would be the type to get mushy mushy in private and call harry shit like lover darling my love #harry would say draco baby and babe everywhere #thats it hes uncreative like that #and draco wouldnt even care #both of their love languages are acts of service so draco doesnt need reassuring when he knows harry would burn cities for him #they love each other very ardently that simple gestures communicate entire sonnets #and theyre cool with that #good for them #joonkorre writes

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squidbobby · 3 years

Text

Shambles (The Rockiest Rock Bottom Ever), a squidbob fic, Chapter 1

Summary: After the volcano disaster that wasn't, things are starting to get back to normal...except that Squidward's house has been destroyed by earthquakes and he's in shambles. Bikini Bottom's own hero, Spongebob Squarepants, offers to take Squidward into his home until other arrangements can be made, and Squidward doesn't exactly have many options. Feelings ensue.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Living Together, Sharing a Bed, Post-Canon

This work is also available on my Ao3.

I welcome prompts for most ships!

It was a wonder how much of Bikini Bottom had stayed intact after the disaster that sort of wasn’t. Really, with the odds they had been given, the whole place should’ve become a seafood buffet by now. He shouldn’t have been surprised, then, that his place was destroyed. The pineapple was one thing. Round and organic, it had no trouble staying in one piece throughout the quakes, though apparently not everything inside was so lucky, if Spongebob’s unusually somber trash drop-off meant anything. Patrick’s home was rock, same as Squidward’s, but it was low to the ground and dome-shaped, and his entire living space was made out of sand, anyway.

Squidward’s home was not so lucky. He had tried to listen to Sandy through the fog, something about the building being too brittle to withstand seismic activity? Either way, his home--his former home, that is--lay in shambles around him. A few locals including his neighbors had volunteered to help Squidward sift through the rubble, and were now shuffling around in pairs, sorting things into variously marked piles and murmuring sympathetically to each other. Squidward glanced around, dazed, doing little and feeling useless. Occasionally someone had held an object up to him for appraisal, and his positive or negative grunts would determine which pile it went into.

About an hour into the search, a distinctly Spongebob-y series of noises came from behind Squidward. A grunt, a crash, a gasp, and a hurried shush. Even in his state, Squidward knew when to be suspicious. He whipped around to find Spongebob and Patrick grinning fearfully and hiding something behind their backs. Behind them was a toppled-over piece of rock wall that had been covering a significant little area and which nobody had worked up the motivation to move until, apparently, Patrick’s brawn and lack of brain had successfully coordinated. Squidward started towards them.

“Alright, what is it?” he asked with a sigh. “Can’t be any worse than anything else we’ve found so far.”

Spongebob and Patrick exchanged remorseful glances before Spongebob pulled his hands out from behind his back and showed Squidward what they had found.

“Oh…” came out of Squidward as he lowered himself shakily onto what was left of the sofa. So they had finally gotten to the ruins of his art room. He’d known, distantly, that that was coming eventually. It was a different thing entirely to see Spongebob, the picture of empathy, gingerly holding up the splintered pieces of his clarinet while looking at him as if he was going to splinter, himself, at any moment.

And splinter he did. For the first time since the volcano didn’t erupt, tears welled up in Squidward’s eyes.

“I-I, uh…” Squidward began shakily. He barely had time to take another breath before a sob escaped him and his face crumpled as he covered it with his hands. Squidward suddenly felt like everything was caving in on him. First the trauma of the almost disaster, then the shock of coming home to being homeless, and now the humiliation of losing control of himself over a stupid piece of wood in front of a dozen people. He curled in on himself on the sofa and wrapped his arms around each other. All the rock bottoms he thought he had fallen into in his life didn’t compare to this, the rockiest rock bottom ever. His breath hitched when he felt a dip next to him on the sofa, but he didn’t pull his hands away from his face lest the dip’s creator see his face, which was sure to be puffy and red by now.

A small hand tentatively touched Squidward’s shoulder, and he hunched further inward until a soft voice spoke up.

“It’s okay,” Spongebob murmured. “They’re gone.”

Squidward carefully peeked over his fingers and realized that Spongebob was telling the truth. Whether the volunteers had left of their own volition because they were uncomfortable with Squidward’s outburst or had been shooed away by Spongebob and/or Patrick, the two of them were now alone on Conch Street. He considered retreating back behind his hands anyway, but this was Spongebob. The little guy had seen Squidward at all of his worst times, him being the cause of most of his worst times notwithstanding. Squidward lowered his hands, sniffed, and faced forward, gathering up what dignity he could. He could see Spongebob in his peripheral vision, his face open and vulnerable as always. Suddenly he felt a wad of tissues being pressed into his hand, and Squidward smiled despite himself, but it was a sad smile.

“I don’t know what to do now.” Squidward said to nobody in particular. Now that the sobs had died down, he felt hollow again, but this time with a headache.

“What do you mean?” asked Spongebob. His head was cocked like a quizzical child’s.

Squidward huffed. “I mean, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. My mother offered to let me live with her, but that’s hours away and my job is here. There’s nothing left to rebuild my house with, and I don’t have the money or credit for a new place. I’m gonna have to move back home and lose my job and live in my mother’s basement like the loser I am, and--”

Spongebob’s hand tightened where it was on Squidward’s shoulder.

“What do you mean you have nowhere to go? My house is right there!” He gestured next door, where the pineapple stood unfazed by the earthquakes.

At this, Squidward turned to look at Spongebob’s face straight on. His mouth was quirked into a smile, and his eyes were the kind of wide-eyed enthusiastic empathetic eyes that Squidward had seen in him when they’d passed abandoned baby snails in a box or flowers that needed watering. Well, Squidward guessed he was not that different from an abandoned baby snail these days.

“I don’t know, Spongebob…” Squidward started. They’d roomed together for short periods of time before for one reason or another, and it never ended very well.

“Shush,” Spongebob said, headstrong. “I won’t hear any protest on this. I want to help, and this way you can keep your job and we can walk to work together. Oh, it’ll be like a sleepover!”

As Spongebob began talking about matching pajamas and his eyes began to sparkle, Squidward wondered whether it would really be so bad to stay with his neighbor for a while. Besides, what other options did he have? He shuddered to think of what staying with Patrick or Krabs would be like, and he wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to go home and listen to his mother cry “I told you so” every other minute as if it was his fault that he had barely escaped death and his house hadn’t. Squidward sighed inwardly.

“Okay, Spongebob, but just until I find somewhere cheap to stay.”

“Yay!!!” Spongebob released Squidward’s shoulder and ran into the pineapple. Squidward looked around, confused, until Spongebob burst back out with a handful of what looked like empty bags.

“Here,” Spongebob said, handing Squidward a large duffle bag. “Pack up everything that’s in the ‘not completely destroyed’ piles and we’ll get you moved in and go shopping for some essentials!”

So this was really happening. Squidward stood up from the sofa and quietly began putting blankets and clothes from one pile into Spongebob’s bag as Spongebob hummed merrily and collected his own pile into a reusable grocery bag with smiley faces all over it. Squidward watched him and snorted out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. How many times had he been cruel to the little guy, only for Spongebob to come right back the next day, smiling as brightly as ever? And how many times had Spongebob gone to great lengths just to help him, or simply make him smile? For a moment, Squidward looked at him and saw the hero of Bikini Bottom, the kid who helped his friends stop a natural disaster in its tracks and save an entire city. He didn’t seem like so much of a kid these days.

“Woo, let’s go buddy!” Squidward was shaken from his revelry by a shout, and he looked up to see that all the remaining piles, including the rest of the one he was working on, had been packed and left in a pile of overstuffed bags decorated with varying levels of whimsy. Spongebob grabbed his arm and led him to Squidward’s boatmobile, which had been spared. “Best friends’ shopping trip!”

#squidbob #squidbob fanfic #spongebob #spongebob musical #spongebob x squidward #m #shambles

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