HIS ASSISTANT

Severus Snape x Reader

Request: yep, by @Chloelouise02

Summary: (Y/n) was Snape's only friend back in their time at Hogwarts, but they had a falling out just before they graduated so he doesn't know how to feel now that she had been appointed as his assistant. This takes place during the golden trio's third year, or, more specifically - in their first lesson.

Warnings: a swear word or two?; dementors; shouting; pretty much just fluff

Word Count: 1.7K+

"Clean up that mess", he drawled lowly, and for the hundredth time that week I fumed at his attitude.

"Magic word?", I seethed, not moving a muscle to reach for my wand.

"If you wanted me to Imperio you, you could just say so", even through all this I heard his suppressed smirk that I would have loved to see after all this time, but apparently wasn't worthy of.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes in disbelief, and was inevitably reminded of our past shared moments. I'm not sure if it made me sad or happy thinking about. Maybe nostalgia is meant to have both.

"How about the other one?"

After a very long and over-dramatic sigh he gave in, boosting my serotonin levels drastically, at least that's what I think this feeling was.

"...Please."

"See? Was that so hard?" He didn't answer but his expression suggested it was indeed so hard.

I pulled out my wand reluctantly and swung the wood wordlessly, the puddle of rainbow-coloured failure vanishing in thin air.

I mean hey, at least it wasn't as bad as Seamus' rumored explosive draughts.

In fact, there were many rumours about all students of Hogwarts as well as teachers from other schools and Rosemary or someone of the likes from down in a Hogsmeade pub.

If I'm being honest, the teachers' room possessed more qualities of a gossip girls set-up, a talk show or a Comedy Drama movie than a teachers' room at all; but I wisely decided a while ago already to keep this to myself.

Severus apparently enjoyed the talk just as, if not more than anyone else, not that he would ever dare to admit it.

Sev...

It felt strange calling him Severus. It felt stranger calling him Snape, though, so to his dismay that's what he was going to have to put up with. We just weren't on good enough terms again for, well, honestly? Anything.

Now you may be wondering how we ended up like this. To keep it short: I'm the second-last week of our last school year he kissed me. And for whatever reason I kissed him back because apparently I had a stupid crush on him; but then he felt guilty because of Lily (am I a joke to him?) and just left and refused to talk to me again.

Great way to treat your best friend. Really. Wicked.

"Is it just my imagination or are you particularly moody right now? Because I could swear I made you laugh an hour ago and I've basically just lost all of my progress." His lip twitched upward as he positioned himself behind one of the front desks, but maybe it was a trick on the eyes.

"No. I am not moody. I am never moody. And I am most certainly not more moody than usual." Those were the most sentences I had gotten out of him in a row all day, but my accomplishment was quickly forgotten at the rubbish he had just made me hear.

"You're never- oh, I get it. I know you're not Mad-Eye. Believe me. You just haven't got the looks", I grinned, before my face fell and I grew serious for once.

"No, seriously. Have you got a bad relationship to the Potter kid or something? Everyone talks about him so much but never in relation to you. Is that it? Are you dreading him?"

I'm pretty sure if you held a really exact ruler to his eyes and you weren't shaking at the look he's giving me now, you would have seen they'd widened a couple of millimeters. But unfortunately I guess no one's gonna take over that job, are they?

He simply stayed silent until all the students had come in and positioned themselves at their desks, including the Potter boy, who was sitting next to who I think was a Weasley.

The lesson began and I watched in curiosity as his eyes flicked to Potter more often than not, although the possibility was still there that it was only because I had brought it up. I gradually regretted not saying so after the lesson more and more.

"This is my new assistant, Ms. (L/n). She will be helping me keep your dim-witted souls under control and prevent you from destroying anything as best as possible", he sent a sharpened glance at Finnigan as he said the last part, making the boy gulp. That has to count for something, right? He hadn't put it that way all the times he introduced me until now, so maybe he was warming up to me again.

I could tell the students wanted to start whispering, but their fear of Severus seemed to surpass even that.

Once he gave the assignment, however, and they started working, I heard my name mentioned in their conversations more often than i would have liked under any circumstances.

I can't believe how judged and pressured you can feel by a bunch of teenagers, even as an adult.

The amount of times it was suggested Sev and I were together or he had a crush on me or something was even more unsettling, yet aside from a casual blown up cauldron on Seamus' behalf the rest of the day went by rather eventlessly.

...

And so did the rest of the week. And the next. And the next. Although I did get rather invested in the drama of Mulligan's relationships, but who didn't?

The dementors on the grounds were becoming more and more annoying, and I was thoroughly sick of them to say the least.

One Saturday I dared to pass the lake and sit down on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I wanted fresh air, and above all - I wanted to be completely undisturbed.

So, lying down on my jacket I pulled out Tiffany Aching: I Shall Wear Midnight and started reading.

I think I lay there for hours before something happened. Or more accurately, disturbed me.

The air grew cold fast but the wind stood still, as if balancing in the tip of its toes, threatening to plunge forward in one great gust.

As a familiar feeling of sadness invaded me it didn't take long for me to come to my senses and realize what was approaching me.

Dementors. Patronus. Quick. Now.

I spun around, just to look right into it's disgusting face - well, I wouldn't call it that, but then again, what else can one call it?

But before I could do more than draw my wand, before I could utter the words, before a clear thought could even fully pass through my head -

- someone else yelled the spell.

"EXPECTO PROTONUM!"

The voice was suspiciously familiar, so I wasn't all too surprised when I saw the figure of Severus standing on a rock, panting as he held out his wand. The questions that remained were why, how, where and when.

The dementor was being chased away by-

Something that couldn't possibly be true. Anyone who knew Sev - so, not many, I guess - knows that- no, it's can't be.

The figure of a tiger was attempting to pounce on the Dementor, which was gliding away as fast as seemed dementorly possible.

But- a doe- it can't be!

"What were you thinking!?", he raged, marching up to me, wand still raised, "Oh, yes, why not just lie around at the edge of the Forbidden Forest-"

"Severus-"

"-and read a book! Who cares about the dementors whirring around here like a pack of bees!"

"Severus!"

"And what-

"SEV!", I called, but he just yelled louder.

"How stupid are you!? You were never responsible, I guess that never changed, did it? I always have to fucking save you-" That's it.

"SEVERUS FUCKING SNAPE YOU WILL BE QUIET THIS MINUTE."

That seemed to do the job.

"Don't you go on about you saving me, and don't you dare try and embarrass me or something just because you felt embarrassed yourself back then when you were seventeen! How petty can you be? It was one kiss, I don't care!" My breath fell short as I shared the thoughts I had been dying to tell him. "And since when is your patronus the same as mine!?"

He stayed quiet yet again. God, I hate it when he does that. Well, no, I don't, but I hate it when he does it after I confronted him with something.

"I didn't-" Silence again.

"It's been a tiger since the day we kissed." He seemed to deem that enough said as he sulked and began turning away.

Oh, no you won't.

"Is it because you don't regret it?", I called, barely keeping control of my words at this point. "Because you still want to?"

He halted suddenly, whisked around in one motion, and walked up to me. He stood mere inches from me and for the life of me I couldn't tell whether he was about to yell at or kiss me.

The latter was the case.

He simply pecked my lips once before smiling slightly-

I repeat, smiling!

-and walking off yet again. But this time I didn't stop him. In fact, I didn't do anything much as I watched his cape hide him until he felt beyond the horizon.

And I had never minded as much as now.

———————————————————-

A/N:

Oh, to be an assistant...

This was fun, but my autocorrect is actually killing me. Like really. I have French, German, English and emoji keyboards on here and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna lose it

Like every time I'm writing in one language it is ALWAYS, I repeat ALWAYS in a different one.

Anyways, hope you liked this, I would appreciate every comment you can spare :D

-Eren

Hi Liv! Idk if you’ll remember me but it’s ‘In my feels anon’, and I was just wanting to drop in and thank you for all the kind words and support you gave me when I slid into your inbox when I was going through a tough time with my friend a few months ago.

A little update from the last time I was on here, her and I talked it out a bit more over the following weeks, but it became clear to me that she was going to keep making me feel like I couldn’t be who I am around her without feeling like I needed to constantly tip toe around my sexuality, so we’re no longer friends. It’s also kind of disrupted a few other dynamics I had with some of our mutual friends (friends who felt the need to pick sides, which clearly means they aren’t people I’d want to be friends with either) - this whole experience has been pretty hard because I now no longer talk to the same people I would typically lean on day to day, but it’s let a lot of people in my life show their true colours and I’m a lot happier with the quality of friends I now know I have.

As a result of no longer having my immediate circle of friends be the same, I started trying to put myself out there a bit more to meet friends, and I’ve actually met someone romantically. And SHE is great! Ahh it still feels unreal to say it. This is my first relationship with another woman, and although it’s still early days she’s so supportive and understanding, and my friends that I still have love her too. We met at a book club of all places and I literally talked about your fics in my first meeting as some of my favourite things to read - very full circle moment!

Anyways, when all this drama was going to down I felt like the only place I could come to was your page as an anonymous person, because I was feeling so isolated at the time. I know this is literally a bts page and not a free counselling session, but I honestly felt so validated by you and the lovelies, so I just wanted to say a really big thank you. Because now I’m so happy! Ok enough from me, but just, thank you again. All the love!

In her feels anon 💞

Oh my goodness hi! I'm so sorry I'm answering this so late, I'm not sure how I missed this???? I'm sorry to hear about the friend and the mutual friends- though I'm glad you're building a circle of people you can trust fully and be fully comfortable with as yourself, I do know it's still so hard to lose those relationships. It can be very isolating and just sad but it sounds like it's going ok despite the changes.

A woman!!!! at a book club!!!! Omg that's such a meet cute situation I actually can't. I hope things are still thriving with her <3 I'm also honored to have been mentioned, that's so sweet :(

Again I'm so sorry for answering this so late, I hope you still see it. I can only offer so much as a girlie with her own issues lmao but I'm so glad that you feel validated here. Also, you calling the lovelies "the lovelies" is just so cute :( thanks for the update, I'm so glad things are looking up for you! You deserve this! 🧡

13th September 2013

Dear Pete,

 It's official. Christopher has snapped. I have broken him like I break all men. 

 He is such a drama queen. Returns home from a long shift at the hospital and launches straight into an aggressive attack on me.

 "You're moping again," he says, flopping down beside me on the bed.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are. You have been since yesterday. What happened? Which of those men you like to let ruin your life contacted you and sent you into a spiral this time?"

"Are you really going to be a jerk for no reason?"

"It's 5pm, Liv. You're on leave from work and you're lying on your bed, staring at a wall."

There is a tension developing in my shoulders that I am struggling to prevent. "Can you back off? Just a little?" There's a snarl on my lips but I refuse to hide it.

"Why did I say something real or are you still in denial?"

 Tension spreads along the length of my spine, along both arms, and right down my legs. Tears form behind my eyes in that way they do when I'm about to lose control, but I don't take a breath to calm myself.

 "What is that supposed to mean?" Somehow he stays calm despite the crazy lady screaming at him. 

"You're obsessing over a guy who doesn't even like you. Look at you. You begged him to stay. You told him how you feel. You told him that all you wanted was to make him happy. Yet when he told you he could see a future with you he still went off with someone else. Did it ever occur to you that he was lying about every single word? That he never meant even a second of it? Not a single syllable? So will you please stop moping around the house like the world is ending just because some deadshit doesn't want to be with you?" 

Rather than walk away, I felt all the frustration of the last few months bubbling away, read to boiling over. 

"I never even mentioned Big Red. You're the one who has decided I'm upset about him. How dare you! You move into my apartment without asking. You take over half of my space without so much as a simple please, and now you're standing in front of me telling me that I'm living my life wrong? You know what?" Calmed down at this point and spoke like rational woman in control. "Maybe Big Red doesn't love me. Maybe he never will. And maybe you're right in that every word he ever said was a lie. But you know what keeps me going after men do horrible things to me? The idea that they aren't all going to be like that. That eventually I'll meet someone who is worth my time. If I make a few mistakes getting to that person, then so be it. I won't apologise for taking risks."

"And convincing yourself he cares about you?" His voice is still calm and he looks at me with such sadness that I wonder what it really is we're fighting about.

"What? I haven't. I know he doesn't give a shit about me." I grip my face in my hands. "But I need something to believe in. To make me feel like there is a point to this; that not all men are jerks. There has to be a reason that the universe is putting me through this other than it being a lesson I need to learn for no good reason. I would really like to think that maybe I'm not going to be alone forever, that there is a slight chance I'm not the girl that all the guys want to fuck but no one wants to be with. No one ever wants to be with me, Chris. They want to have sex with me, but they don't want to know what my favourite colour is or what really makes me laugh. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be that girl? That girl who you call up when you want to eat pizza on the couch and slob around, but not that girl you want to take out to dinner or show off to your mates. Do you have any idea at all how painful it is to be me and at thirty-one years of age have to accept that you're probably going to die alone because no one ever wants more than friendship or sex? So yeah, I fucked up with Big Red and it probably won't be my last mistake, but I am trying. I am trying to finally get this right."

 Taking a seat, Christopher rubs at his temples. Folding his hands together he looks up at me; so sad. "I don't know, Liv. I'm sorry you feel that way, I am, but I don't want you to go out there with this blind faith that he's coming back, and then bump into him a few months down the track and he's blissfully happy, she's pregnant, and you're there all alone. The other night you made me watch that stupid movie. My Best Friend's Wedding. The gay guy asks her that question. He asks her who is chasing her. I'm asking you, Liv. Who is chasing you? Every night you write a letter to a man who never replies. You keep having dinner with some other prick who only has time for you when he doesn't have a better offer, and who let his mates publicly humiliate you. You spend your days holding onto a hope that some guy you spent one weekend with will realise that weekend meant so much more than one weekend. But you're here. Each night. Sitting with me on the couch. Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?"

 That was the point when the damn of tears erupted and I collapsed down beside him on the bed. Wrapping his arms around me, he held me tight for the longest time. 

 All I did was cry until he kissed me. He kissed me for even longer than he'd held me.

 We're still lying on my bed but he's fallen asleep now. He's wrapped around me as I type this and I wonder what is happening here. Why did he get so upset with me? Why does he put up with my outbursts? Why does he hate them all so much but continue to kiss me like they do?

 I see clearly why the world might think I'm insane, and I know that Big Red and I was nothing. It was only a weekend, but it was a weekend that I needed in order to convince myself that I wouldn't be alone forever.

 As for The Czech, I don't know. I don't know what he is.  

 So I'll keep lying here with Chris until he stirs. Then I'll send him down the hallway to his room, and I'll keep lying on my side of the bed and saving the other side for whomever might come along and actually want it permanently. 

 I can promise you that I will never apologise for believing in true love. Or that people can change. Or that sometimes people get lost on their path. I'm a hopeless romantic, the very worst kind, and I will not apologise for that.

 But, Pete, it'd be nice if you could come home now. This game has gone on long enough and I'm tired. I need a friend who knows me better than I know myself. I need to believe that not all men leave. The nicest thing that any man has said to me in years was tonight when Christopher was falling asleep and under his breath he mumbled, "It's blue. Your favourite colour is blue. It's why you chase all those blue-eyed men continuously."

 How can those few words be the highlight of my life up till now? How can he really be the only man who ever cared enough to notice?

 Liv x

Anyway, HSM2 is about internalized homophobia, and no one can tell me otherwise.

High School Musical is one of the most beloved franchises in the world. Teenagers all over the world grew up watching Troy and Gabriella harmonize together. Three movies, and nearly a decade later it’s still beloved by all. The first film easily forgotten in the ashes of the early 2000’s, the third film stuck in a purgatorial limbo of the rather unfortunate late 2000’s. The second film on the other hand sticks out between the ruckus. 

The second High School Musical film takes place at Sharpay and Ryan’s family country club, during the summer between junior and senior year. The Wildcats are working summer jobs on the country club, often forced to the beck and call of Ryan and Sharpay themselves. Sharpay uses all her prestige to help Troy with college instead of starting at the bottom ( or rather, in the kitchen washing dishes) with his friends. In the time she’s helping Troy, she is also pushing her brother away; replacing him with Troy in their musical number for the talent show, and refusing to hang out with him in preference for Troy. Ryan becomes vengeful to his twin and starts hanging around the Wildcats in the kitchen. At first, he was met with some distasteful looks and words (most of which from Chad). With the help of Kelsey, and her neutral party, Ryan fits in smoothly with the other teenagers, eventually giving the WildCats all dance lessons.

 Throughout the movie, the main conflict continues to be the internal conflict of Troy Bolton. He debates over and over again if he should go through with Sharpay’s shenanigans, or if he wants to “listen to my own heart.”  This of course involves Gabriella, as she is Troy’s love interest. She’s not in the second film except for the beginning, then, where she leaves in the middle of the film - in order to create angst for Troy - then when she shows up again in the finally to sing/rejoin Troy. 

The conflict in the second film  is the combining of Troy’s two worlds. His first - his main world in the first movie, that hence became his secondary world - which is represented by Chad. Then his secondary world - which becomes his main world in this movie - which is represented by Ryan. Chad represents Troy’s masculinity, or his more idealized version of himself. Ryan represents Troy’s femininity or his current version of reality. These two worlds collide in the iconic song “I don’t dance”.  

Since this movie - and hence this scene - came out in the early 2000’s, a lot of the innuendoes went over people's heads. Luckily, as the children who watched this movie grew older and more experienced, and the world became more accepting, we’re able to see this song for what it is. 

Before getting into the lore and symbolism of the iconic “I Don’t Dance” sequence, context is needed. For most of human history, homosexuality was seen as a sin in all places except ancient times (see: Greece and Japan). The modern age is the most accepting on all fronts, such as sexual orientation, race, and religion. In the early 2000’s, High School Musical director Kenny Ortega was not publicialy out yet. He wouldn’t be till 2014. 

Originally, while writing this, my first thought was  that Kenny - the director - would be using Troy as a y/n type character to project his insecurities and struggles with masculinity, and what that means in defining his orientation and societal views that would be placed upon him. Then, it came to me later that this is in fact not the case, Troy (and Gabriella - who is in fact a y/n character for the female audience) is more of a character for a man of his time, confused with his own ideals of masculinity and the views of society because, “oh god, I can’t like theater/drama because only queer people and girls like it!” The second point is pushed further with the Troy and Sharpay sub-plot. Sharpay tries to further Troy’s career as a basketball player, though that’s not what he wants anymore, and Troy is no longer sure if that is what he ever wanted to begin with (enter the song “Bet on it” and the hilarious meme “no dad, I’m giving up on your dream”). 

Keeping these things in mind - Kenney’s queerness, and Troy’s struggle to realize you can in fact sing and be a heterosexual, wow, revolutionary - it became clear to me that Kenney’s y/n characters were Ryan and Chad. 

For those who aren’t into the arts, or find them too difficult after a singular attempt thinking they could write a world class novel on the first go, let me be the first to tell you every author has a y/n character. First, for those who don’t know what y/n stands for, it’s a popular fanfiction trope where a writer will write a story about a character dating, being friends, and so on, with the reader. The y/n stands for “your name” so anyone can be the main character in this story at any time. For a writer of mainstream fictional work, such as High School Musical, Game Of Thrones, Lord Of The Rings, Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter, Hunger Games, even most comics. Now, most writers or directors aren’t going to be as obvious as having a character not named (or named y/n) or even named Jane (looking at you Jane Austin), the y/n character of many mainstream authors/directors/comic artists and so on is usually the character they feel or have given the most attributes similar to themselves. 

It’s the same reason people have favourite characters. You see a fictional character and you either 1. Want to Bob the Builder them, 2. Some sort of weird sex thing, or 3. See more/the most of yourself in this character. Number three - thankfully - is usually the main reason. Some people just create their own favourite characters. An even easier way to think about this, is just projection baby, that’s psych 101.   

Before I went off on a small tangent of fictional works and how human emotion plays into creating them (except anything Disney has made in the past decade, and no you can’t change my mind on that) I mentioned that Chad and Ryan are Kenney’s y/n characters. As a queer person myself, it’s clear for me to see the different struggles each of these characters face and how these reflect the queer experience. 

So, let’s finally get into it. 

Ryan, without it being explicitly said is clearly a character of what people in the early 2000s think a gay man is. He is effeminate, wearing bright coloured outfits with lots of accessories - namely his signature hats - he is also in the theater department doing musicals, and passive/subservient to any of his twin sisters' wills. Yes, now we know gay men aren’t just feminized men, but in the early 2000’s a gay man who can do "masculine" things like change their car oil, like sports, and so on, break the "effeminate" stereotype thus confused many cishet people. Sharpay is painted as more confident - or, for sake of comparability - masculine to her twin in the first movie, and most of the second movie. Making Ryan a bit of her dog who would do anything to get by - painting Ryan as lesser than human, once more, playing into the homophobia of the early 2000's.     

Despite the clear stereotypes playing into his character, Ryan is consistently one of the most confident characters in the movie. The other, being his sister of course. This confidence in himself is what gravitates the other characters towards him, either by being intimidated (Troy, thinking Ryan and Gabriella were a thing), or admiration (Chad, by the end of “I don’t dance”). 

Chad, on the other hand, is a whole different ball game. While he is confident in the first movie, and the first portion of the second movie, he begins to break more and more when Ryan becomes a more integral part of the Wildcat group. To keep in mind, Chad is also the most vocal about his distaste for Troy’s artistic past-time. When the other Wildcats join Ryan and begin learning how to dance for the talent show at the end of the movie, Chad is also the most vocal about his distaste. The baseball game where “I don’t dance” takes place, is the climax of Chad’s arc and his turn towards acceptance to Ryan/Troy’s hobbies. 

Of course, there is more to the “I don’t dance” sequence than just Chad’s realization - the exact one Troy comes to terms with in the second movie as well - of “oh my god I don’t have to be gay to enjoy stereotypical ‘feminine’ things.” That is the main part of the song though, that and all the sexual tension. 

Going back to what I’ve stated previously, Chad and Ryan are Kenney’s projection or y/n characters. Let me do a small recap before we get into the nitty gritty of the famous “I don’t dance” video. 

Thinking back to the first few paragraphs, I stated that Kenney wasn’t publicly out till 2014, about 7 years after the second movie came out. This could be due to the fact that a) it’s the early 2000’s and everyones still very homophobic, or b) self-doubt that comes with the queer experience. The most likely reason is a mixture of both of these. Because of this, Ryan is the more self-assured version, or idealized version of Kenney that he wants to be. Ryan is confident, never being swayed about his lifestyle (could be read as: sexuality) even though Chad - and most of the wildcats in the first movie - put him through relentless “teasing” and humiliation. He’s confident, almost to a fault, he’s sure of himself, and yet still reaches out a hand to Chad and the other wildcats to show them that they’re just being, kinda dick-ish. 

Every queer person wants to be Ryan. Despite his heavily stereotyped characterization, I personally believe he is one of the stronger written characters in the movies, mainly due to Kenney putting the time in to really make Ryan feel like a real person, to give himself some sort of relief of his own anxieties, a chance to see the world through a person who truly has no fear. Unlike Kenney himself. 

This is where Chad comes in. 

Chad is seen as “confident” in the first movie, the second Troy “leaves” basketball though, all that confidence comes crashing down. His best friend has another hobby - one he thinks is “not right” (it’s okay, you can say gay), - they wont be spending all their time together (first, can you say dependent relationship much, yikes).Chad’s defining characteristic up until their fight that instigate act three of the second movie, is being Troy’s best friend. I’m going to take this as if this were truly the case, and not a decently written character arch. Some people base themselves around their friends and their whole identity on being a friend, that they lose sight of themselves, this mainly in high school of course, when your whole world is really nothing but school, and friends. Newly developed independence is there, but that’s scary, so instead of worrying about the future, cling to something that’s reliable. I’ve seen this happen, mainly at the end of high school, when the “real world” is coming a bit too close for comfort. This could generally be the case if a person is lonely, but for timeline sake I’m going to say Chad has got some anxiety about graduating (considering the second movie takes place the summer of junior year). 

His lashing out at Troy’s hobbies and at Troy’s neglectful friendship, make more sense with that background, and are seen more in the second movie where Troy begins spending all his spare time with Sharpay (trying to collect that BAG!). Chad - and others (read: father) - insists that music is not a feasible career option, and Troy should just stick with basketball (like...that is a feasible career option). The tension Chad creates in the studio only grows when the other wildcats decide to take up Ryan’s offer for dance lessons and move from the kitchen, to helping out with the talent show. (Next essay idea: how high school musical two was really about class all along, cause Jesus). 

 Chad is the less obvious option for a y/n character. Though again, the 2000’s were not as cool people like to pretend they are. Chad - for Kenney - represents what he actually feels, this fear of being rejected for how he is and how he chooses to live his life/lifestyle, so he sticks to something reliable. Ryan is new, and exciting, and confident in a way that Kenney/Chad wish they could be, but in order for that to happen they need to understand that maybe people are complex creatures, and can enjoy multiple hobbies (aka: the same lesson Troy is teaching the viewers, but far less boring). But, for Kenney/Chad facing that thought and that realization is scary, and thus, they lash out at anyone (read this paragraph as: Chad mad jealous of Ryan cause Ryan bomb as fuck). 

All this build up, finally comes ahead in the employee baseball match 

                                                       ******

The baseball game is probably the most memorable scene in the whole High School Musical franchise (minus Sharpay’s “Fabulous” solo, but that’s also from the same movie, and it’s kinda rude to give what’s already the best more points); the tension in the scene, and what it implies makes it the best written segment of all three movies, let alone the most entertaining. 

Some things to keep in mind from our background information: Chad is missing his bestie and struggling with what being “masculine” really means for him and others. Ryan of course makes this confusing, because the traditional method is being thrown out the window. In short, Chad has internalized homophobia, and Ryan being open - or as open as Disney would let him - is causing all sorts of problems. 

Despite the song, “I don’t dance” being logged into our collective skulls for all eternity (you’re probably humming it right now, sorry about that), the very brief interaction of Ryan and Chad before the game is lost on the public consciousness. The two are clearly comfortable with each other, though the distaste seems to be on Chad’s side more than Ryans. So, the two start playfully jabbing at each other before deciding to do a bat toss to see who will be in the outfield first. 

Before they begin the bat toss, Ryan says “You don’t think dancing takes some game?” Chad then very clearly checks him out, doing a simple but effective ‘drag-your-eyes-over-them-top-to-bottom-then-smile’ and says “you got game?” (Seen in gif below) 

I don’t know how much you know about sex metaphors and how many of those baseball has in it (seriously though, it’s a lot), but with the bat toss, Ryan’s hand ended up on top, and Chad’s under Ryan’s. Let’s ignore this for now, it’ll be implied again later. Ryan’s team starts out in the outfield because he won the bat toss, and hence, the song officially starts. 

The first lyrics (ignoring the chores of “hey batter batter, hey batter batter, swing”) is 

I'll show you that it's one and the same

Baseball, dancing, same game

It's easy

Step up to the place, start swingin  

This part is sung by Ryan, who is taunting Chad out in the outfield. Before the game, as stated, Chad was taunting Ryan about his lack of “game” (both sexual and not sexual metaphor are implied), and now, Ryan has turned those tables around. Baseball - is seen as more masculine than dancing, not as masculine as football or basketball, but it’s up there. Chad is someone who cares about his masculinity, enough to the point that Ryan playing baseball makes him loose his mind. Makes him question his own personal definition of masculinity, if you will. 

Ryan says, “baseball, dancing, same game,” impyling that, to him, baseball and dancing are one and the same. That is baffling to Chad, cause well, how can something meant for girls even be close to something meant for boys. 

Chad comes back with: 

 I wanna play ball now, and that's all

This is what I do

It ain't no dance that you can show me, yeah

This only proves my previous point. 

I had a conversation with myself about this, and I’ve decided not to include it in this essay, but a second essay may or may not be possible. Basically the premise - the dancing/”musical” moments of High School Musical are conjured up images by those meant to see them (ie: like a visual hallucination, but, not really) but this scene kinda poo-poos that idea. 

Now, the thing I am talking about is Ryan and Chad’s  peacocking at each other during the time they sing these lyrics. The movements they’re making could be mistaken for dancing - as we automatically assume it is because of the title and themes of the movie - or it could be them just getting ready for the baseball game. Ryan swings his leg over the pitcher's mound, tossing the ball up and down into his glove, making wavy hand gestures, etc. Chad brushes off his gloves, swings his legs, hits the bat on each foot, and so on. 

For the peacocking, Chad makes a mock of the ballerina foot stance before strutting over to the home plate. Ryan laughs at this, which earns quite the smirk from Chad himself (see gif below). 

This is when it becomes a conversation.   

You'll never know - R

Oh I know - Ch

If you never try - R

There's just one little thing - Ch

That stops me every time, yeah - Ch

Come on - Ch

When Chad says “Come on” it’s when Ryan throws the baseball at him, starting the game, and giving Chad’s team their first strike of the game (get it, it’s funny). Now, obviously we need to talk about the “there’s just one little thing that stops me every time.” As a queer person, I assure you, two of the things that kept me from living my Best Life were 1) my own ignorance of what asexuality was and 2) the fear that everyone I love would hate me for who I am, and what I have no control over. 

Sorry to get deep like that on main, but, can any other queer person say different? Obviously, your first point may differ, but my point still stands. In the video/scene there is a very short moment (to which I have condensed into a gif for you all, you’re welcome, and I’m sorry about the quality in advance), of the camera moving over to Chad’s team (or his friends in this case since it’s an employee baseball game) as he says this line (gif below). 

I will not be explaining the use of subtly in this essay, but I’m sure you get the metaphor Kenney is trying to use. If not, let me spell it out for you in very simple words. This song has a lot of sexual innuendos (as mentioned pervious with the baseball bat scene and still, more to come), with that in mind, and clearly queer themes at play (as mentioned before, again), this scene only shows Chad isn’t as straight as he leads on. His fear/phobia of Ryan/the arts come from a much deeper place. 

In shorter, and much simpler terms: Chad queer. 

But, let’s get back to the boy's conversation. 

I don't dance - Ch

I know you can - R 

Not a chance, no - Ch 

If I could do this, well, you could do that - R 

Translation: “If I can do this weird, sweaty, dirty, Male thing without blowing a fuse, you can and should be able to dance just fine.” 

But I don't dance - Ch 

Hit it out of the park - Both 

I don't dance - Ch

I say you can - R

There's not a chance, oh - Ch

Slide home, you score, swingin on the dance floor - Both

I don't dance, no - Ch  (This is just the chores, you’ll see it multiple times throughout the essay, I just figured if the song is going to be in your head, go all the way right). 

Two-steppin, now you're up to bat - R

Bases loaded, do your dance - R 

Here we are with the baseball metaphors you’ve all been waiting for ladies and gentlemen. Girls, gays, and non-binary pals. For those who have somehow managed a sheltered existence with access to the internet, lemme help you. Ryan is talking about “loaded bases” both in the context of the game (where it shows each base has one person from Chad’s team on them) and in the term of sex. While you go out there dating - while it’s mostly douche bags and people using it ironically - your nosey friends may ask you how far you got. 

“First, second, or third base?” They may ask. Or something like, “oh wow, did you get to home plate/base?” These are simply the rankings of the stages of a sexual relationship. First - kissing, sometimes just handholding, Second - making out, some light groping, Third - full on groping, no clothes come off, but it gets close. While each person has different boundaries, these are the general accepted definitions for the bases. 

Home base is obviously full blown sexual intercourse. Since Chad has his “bases loaded” it means he’s done all these things before, just never gone completely to sexual intercourse with someone - in the terms of the song and the history we’ve already established, it’s most likely a male character. This is only proven by Chad’s uncomfortable nature towards Ryan (internalized Homophobia, thank you, returning theme) but his easy, and cocky personality towards everyone else. “bUt thAt DoEsnT pRovE” hush, that’s the final cherry on top. Remember this conversation. 

It's easy - R  

Again. Previous points have been made.  

Take your best shot, just hit it - Ch 

I've got what it takes, playin my game - Ch

So you better spin that pitch - Ch 

You're gonna throw me, yeah - Ch 

I'll show you how I swing - Ch

Ah, the famous “I’ll show you how i swing” a very strong baseball metaphor for everyone. Keeps queer people from defining themselves to dangerous (straight) people, and, well, that’s it actually. This term is mostly used by bi/pan people, though if you want to stay in the closet or are in a dangerous place, it is also used to subtly tell other queer people you are in fact, not straight. My favourite is when this term came into play when President Buchanan got elected in 1856 (for those that don’t know, he’s the first and only gay president). 

You'll never know - R

Oh I know - Ch

If you never try - R 

There's just one little thing - Ch

That stops me every time, yeah - Ch 

This is again, the same lyric as before it doesn’t pan, and the tone is much different. The camera stays on Chad as he says this line, meaning he’s reflecting, he is now his own problem, the person that is keeping him back. His friends are not on his mind anymore, which is good, Ryan’s Gay Propaganda has been working. 

Come on - Ch

I don't dance - Ch

I know you can - R

Not a chance, no, no - Ch

If I could do this, well, you could do that - R

But I don't dance - Ch

Hit it out of the park - R

I don't dance - Ch

I say you can - R

There's not a chance, oh no - Ch

Slide home, you score, swingin on the dance floor - Both 

I don't dance, no - Ch

Lean back, tuck it in, take a chance - R

Swing it out, spin around, do the dance - R

I wanna play ball, not dance hall - Ch

I'm makin a triple, not a curtain cal - Chl

I can prove it to you til you know it's true - R

'Cause I can swing it, I can bring it to the diamond too - R

You're talkin a lot, show me what you got - Ch

Again, like the beginning of this song, this is a heavy base for flirting and sexual tension, which this song is drowning in. 

Stop swinging - both

Hey - both

This is the part where they all start a flash mob in the middle of the baseball diamond. Again, alluding to the conversation I had to myself earlier, this only proves my own theory as no one takes notice of this. But, that’s not this essay, this is where I mention how close Chad and Ryan are at the end of the group dance.  

Come on, swing it like this - both

Oh, swing - both

Jitterbug, just like that - both

That's what I mean, that's how you swing - both

You make a good pitch but I don't believe - both 

Here is yet another (and the final) sexual innuendo. This is actually a rather quick one. Pitching in queer culture is considered the person who tops (because queer people even had to straight-ify their sex lives to “top” and “bottom”), this is the person who is giving, if you know what I’m saying. 

I say you can - R

I know I can't - Ch

I don't dance - Ch

You can do it - R

I don't dance, no - Ch 

 Here is where that mosh pit ends, and how they get a little too close to comfort. 

Nothing to it, atta boy, atta boy, yeah - both

The rest of this song is simply a mash-up of the baseball game being finished, and this lovely gem. 

Now, clearly, Chad’s self conscious nature towards his sexuality is gone, he’s sitting close - if not squishing - Ryan, and talking to him like they’ve been friends forever. Take note of the change of close, most likely due to all the tension at the end of the song, and maybe a little of Chad’s own natural human curiosity built in. Now, I leave you with this note: 

If there is anything that confirms all this more, its Chad’s girlfriend wearing the pride colours. 

Also note: this could also be seen as a friend helping his bro discover his sexuality and fighting internalized homophobia, but, that’s ignoring the sexual tension, so go off I guess. 

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.  

Watch the full thing here

Guzhuang Appreciation Month: badass dialogues

(but in the novel)

legend of ruyi :: ep 5 // ep 78

This drama is so amazing, demonstrated by these two scenes. Here you have Ruyi and Hongli watching the same play at two different stages in their lives. In episode 5, they are still clearly in love and are happy watching the play together, leaning lovingly against each other and moving in unison as one. They are also being watched fondly by Aruo, who has yet to have ideas of betraying Ruyi. Many years later, in episode 78, we have Ruyi and Hongli watching the same play, but they are physically far apart and their emotional distance from each other is also clear on their faces. They are literally being divided by the presence of Ling Yunche standing between them.

I find the parallel between the closeups of Aruo and Ling Yunche the most heartbreaking, because Aruo, despite how happy she looks for them in ep 5, would eventually try to break Ruyi and Hongli apart. And yet for all her efforts, she never succeeds because Hongli never actually believes her. On the other hand, Ling Yunche never tries to get in between Ruyi and Hongli, but just the mere presence of him is enough for Hongli to drive a wedge between himself and Ruyi. The presence of Aruo and Ling Yunche in this scene drives home the stark contrast in how the relationship has deteriorated between Ruyi and Hongli, and how Hongli went from trusting Ruyi despite all evidence against her to believing the worst of her despite no real evidence. 

What is even more heartbreaking is the play they are watching. It’s not made very clear in the drama, but the plot of the play has great significance in the novel. The play they are watching is called 墙头马上 / Over the Wall and Atop a Horse. The play is based on the poem 井底引银瓶 Silver Vase at the Bottom of the Well by Bai Juyi.

The poem by Bai Juyi, writes of a broken relationship/friendship where two people once lived happily in harmony, then one person wronged the other, causing the other person to leave and never come back; the relationship is thus severed. 

When the poem was adapted into the play 墙头马上 / Over the Wall and Atop a Horse, the play tells the story of Pei Shaojun falling in love at first sight with Li Qianjin when she was standing by a wall and he was on a horse riding by her house. The two then eloped, and lived together for seven years, having two children together, before they were discovered by Pei Shaojun’s father. Upon the discovery, Li Qianjin was condemned for getting into a clandestine relationship and Pei Shaojun caved to parental pressure and divorced her. She went back to her hometown. Many years later, after having achieved political success, Pei Shaojun went looking for Li Qianjin again, and just happened to discover that the two of them were actually engaged as children. In the play, they then reunited, got remarried and lived happily ever after.

There is however a plot point in the Ruyi novel, where Qingying does not like the ending of the play, feeling that the happy ending was forced. In the novel, Hongli and Qingying only know each other in passing at first. Then on the day that Hongli chooses his wives, Qingying is made to attend by her aunt. Before the selection ceremony, everyone is invited to watch a play, and Hongli chooses Over the Wall and Atop a Horse. Qingying, because she dislikes the happy ending, asks the theatre troupe to change the ending of the play so that in the end, Li Qianjin does not actually get back together with Pei Shaojun but stays firm in her resolve to end the relationship between them. After the play ends, Qingying leaves before the selection, but Hongli becomes intrigued by her changed ending and chases after her. This conversation below ensues, in which you can see clearly how Qingying’s belief on the matter stayed constant with her through the years. In fact, she practically predicts her own fate later with her changed ending.

~*~

Qingying stepped lightly ahead, her gown fluttering in the breeze like a white butterfly in flight. Aruo’s face was robbed of all colour and she was crying in despair. “Gege, what is wrong with you? Everything was well, why did you change the ending of the play? If Huang Hou Niang Niang hears about it, what will you do?”

Qingying shrugged. “At most, Aunt will just scold me a little. I just don’t like that ending. Today, I finally got to see how it should be played out. I’m so happy!”

“Gege might be happy,” Aruo said miserably, “but today is the consort selection. If Gege you are not chosen, then what would we do?”

Qingying’s aunt had already intended her to be the Third Prince’s bride, and now that was not successful, she should be pushed to the Fourth Prince instead? If they needed this one forced marriage to prolong their family’s glory, would that mean all women of the Ulanara clan were little better than slaves? It would be better this way. Regardless of whether she succeeded at being chosen to be a prince’s consort or not, she got to see things done her way, for once.  

She only managed a few steps more when suddenly a voice called behind her. “Qingying Meimei!”

No one had ever called her that before. Everyone in the palace simply called her “Qingying Gege”. Curious, she turned her head to find that Hongli was chasing after her.

Thinking that he must wish to reprimand her, Qingying made herself as small as possible.

Hongli only laughed. “I chased after you to comfort you. Xiyue Gege was rude in speech, I feared that you would be offended.”

“Offended? About what?” Qingying asked in a low voice. “Fourth Prince, do you mean to mention the fact that I was rejected by the Third Prince?”

Hongli nodded, frowning. “I only fear such talk will destroy your reputation.”

Qingying laughed, all her teeth showing, against all rules of decorum, which seemed to astonish Hongli.

“I don’t care!” she declared. “There are many things that women can’t necessarily decide for themselves, such as marriage, or family. But at least, I can decide whether to mind those mocking talks, whether to care about them and let them hurt me.”

Hongli looked sad for a moment, whispering, “Your family…” But then he trailed off. Then, with a humourless smile, he said, “Over the Wall and Atop a Horse is the play I chose myself, why did you not like the ending and asked them to change it? I pick a plum blossom, lean against the wall. / You ride off among the bending poplars*. Is that not a lovely image?”

“Yes, it is very nice, it’s just…” Qingying thought a moment then said, “Over the wall and atop a horse we gaze at each other. / I know you, too, must be heartbroken*. From this beginning, the play is full of conflicts, ups and downs, all very compelling, yet in the end, there is a forced happy ending, everyone is forced to be happy, I really don’t like it at all.”

[* excerpts from the poem by Bai Juyi]

Hongli looked displeased, asking, “To be able to mend a broken mirror, husband and wife reunited and at peace again, is that not good?”

“When Li Qianjin was being insulted by Pei Shaojun’s parents, he did not protect her. He watched her leave in humiliation and did not stop her, as if all the love and years they shared did not matter. Such a heartless and weak man who dares not protect his woman, why would Li Qianjin want to get back together with him?”

Her voice was soft, but also full of conviction. Even though it went against Hongli’s beliefs, he wanted to keep her talking.

“To be reunited and together in harmony is the wishes of all families on earth. If Pei Shaojun is willing to start over, why would Li Qianjin not forgive him?”

“Why must a woman always forgive a man for his failings? Wouldn’t that teach the man that it doesn’t matter what hurt he causes? I don’t care, if he hurt her, she shouldn’t forgive him.”

“Women must be soft and gentle, and give into her husband. If she sacrifices a little, bears a little hurt feeling, they can be reunited, isn’t that happiness?”

“If she must be hurt, must sacrifice herself for this forced reunion, then it is already not a good marriage,” Qingying said stubbornly. “In my eyes, Li Qianjin is a woman who is willing to walk away, to severe the relationship, because all trust is gone.”

“If she walks away, wouldn’t that mean she spends the rest of her life alone? Everyone has their own difficult moments, if Li Qianjin is so stubborn, Pei Shaojun is put in a difficult position too.”

“Who isn’t in a difficult position?” Qingying asked. “If the woman can understand the man’s difficulties, can a man not understand a woman’s pain of being cast aside and humiliated?”

Hongli thought for a moment then laughed. “Qingying Meimei, you are much too unbending.”

Qingying merely nodded. “It’s better to live the rest of your life alone, rather than live to old age with someone who already betrayed you once. So it might be harmonious today, but if a conflict arises, what is to say Pei Shaojun will not just forsake Li Qianjin again? It is easy to change mountains**, that is the principle here.”

[** there is a Chinese saying that it is easier to change the course of rivers and shapes of mountains than to change the character of a person… aka old habits die hard but with more stakes.]

Hongli still did not agree with her logic. “Women should place obedience before all and be pliable. If she does not restrain herself and be more accepting for the greater good, then she would just suffer.”

“If one must accept being humiliated for a so-called happy ending, then I don’t want that kind of happy ending,” Qingying repeated.

“Then is Over the wall and atop a horse we gaze at each other so easily forgotten?” Hongli asked, astonished.

Qingyin turned and stared at Hongli. “If it is not easily forgotten, then why didn’t Pei Shaojun protect Li Qianjin? Hasn’t he too forgotten how they once loved each other when he cast her aside?”

Hongli could not argue against her, and finally admitted defeat. “Meimei, you really are something, I don’t know what else to say.”

Qingying laughed in delight.

“Meimei,” Hongli said, stepping closer to her, “you argued so animatedly, you must love Over the Wall and Atop a Horse. Why don’t we go back and hear the play again?”

Qingying hesitated, thinking that it would be a great loss of face if she were to return now. But Hongli was looking at her so earnestly, she found it hard to immediately refuse.

“I’ll go back first, and prepare good tea to wait for you.”

He said ‘wait’, as if he would not move the day along if she did not come. Her heart softened, and she suddenly stopped in her path.

…

[And then of course Qingying comes back to attend the selection. Hongli, who had originally intended to choose Langhua, changes his mind and chose Qingying to be his di fujin, but then Yongzheng interfered and put a stop to it… But the play is one massive foreshadowing plot device that doesn’t get explained much in the drama, but packs a punch when you read this scene.] -h

teenage dirtbag [four] // wanda maximoff

summary: Things finally explode between you and Nate, and Pietro decides to get to the bottom of whatever is going on between you and Wanda, though in usual Pietro fashion AKA not subtly at all

warning/s: none.

author's note: this is very beefy, i must admit, but i think you'll all enjoy the outcome 😂💘

part one | part two | part three | part five | masterlist | wattpad

Dinner with the Maximoffs wasn't as strange as I envisioned. Her parents were sweet and the twins did their best to make me feel comfortable. Wanda still seemed mildly frustrated whenever Pietro and I would talk though, and I figured she may have thought I was lying when I told her I didn't like him like that. I hoped that wasn't the case.

After dinner, Wanda took me upstairs to show me her bedroom. I'm not sure how to describe it other than it seemed so Wanda.

"I'm guessing red is your favourite colour," I said when I saw the hints of scarlet in her bedroom. On her walls, in her bedding, on her pillows. Just like her car and her jacket, they were all bright and very her.

"Great observation, Sherlock," she teased with a sly smile.

I returned the smile, sticking my tongue out at her playfully, before having a walk around and coming across her massive CD collection and CD player. Her music taste was actually quite similar to mine, which I definitely didn't expect. It just made her ten times more attractive to me which wasn't good, but oh well. I was here for a good time, not a long time. And my crush on Wanda Maximoff would surely be the death of me.

"D'you have any CDs at all?" she asked, joining my side when she noticed me staring at the shelf.

I crossed my arms, glancing at her. "Don't get me wrong. I'd love to collect them, but it's just so much easier to have Spotify, y'know?"

My intention wasn't to make her laugh, but God I was glad I did when her eyes crinkled and the sound rang around the room, making my heart pinch with adoration.

After giving me some of her pyjamas, the two of us got ready and brushed our teeth before I realised she wanted me to share bed with her.

"You wanna watch some TV before bed?" she asked, clearly not registering my hesitance to slide into her Queen-sized bed.

I swallowed hard. "S-sure."

She turned on the TV at the end of her bed as I slipped in beside her, still a bit rigid as I kept a fair distance from her.

"What you feeling? Comedy? Drama? Horror?"

"Anything is fine with me," I said, still tense.

She hummed in acknowledgement before leaning down on her pile of pillows behind her, edging closer to me. My heart was hammering in my chest as her hair tickled my arm from where she was laying.

"You comfortable?" she checked in, leaning backwards so her head was upside down to see me. "I have more pillows if you need them."

I offered her a small smile, hoping it disguised my nerves. "I'm good."

She nodded before flicking through the channels and eventually settling on reruns of The Office. It took time, but I eventually overcame my initial shock of sharing bed with the girl I had a major crush on and instead relaxed, getting comfortable under the covers.

After watching some TV, we called it a night and fell asleep quite quickly, the day taking its toll on us. For once, I wasn't panicking about doing something stupid. I simply fell asleep, trying to ignore the heat she emanated from beside me.

It was a peaceful night – her bed was super comfortable – and I woke up to the sound of Wanda moving about in her bedroom.

"Shoot, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked when she saw me moving about under the blankets. I tried to blink away the sleep as she continued, "I was gonna wake you soon. School starts in an hour."

I rubbed my eyes, yawning, before sitting up and seeing she was practically already dressed. That meant she would have been up for a while, meaning she would have seen me fast asleep. God, I hated when people saw me sleeping. It always felt so weird.

"It's okay," I got out tiredly, before running a hand through my hair.

"You sleep well?" she asked, spinning around in her chair, her makeup half done. "I tried my very best not to use you as a teddy bear."

She was joking, but I felt my neck grow warm at the thought and damn, it was just way too early to be flustered.

"Yeah, I slept great," I settled, feeling her gaze on me. "Thanks again for having me over."

"Anytime," she said, and something told me it wasn't just a friendly response but that she actually meant it. Maybe it was the kind smile on her lips as she said so. "Just like last night, if you wanna use anything in the bathroom, go for it."

I gave her a thumbs up, taking a moment to wake myself up a little more, before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I returned to Wanda's room, I saw she'd already made the bed and had laid my clothes on top of it.

"I've got a shirt you can borrow," she said when I grabbed my jeans.

"Oh, I can just wear the same thing again, it's no biggie," I told her, already grabbing my shirt.

She pouted before grabbing a shirt from her closet. "Just hold on. You'll love it."

In no time, she came out from her closet and held out a Paramore tee shirt on a hanger towards me.

"I got it from the last concert I went to," she explained. "I thought you'd like it."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Wow, Wanda. Really? You don't mind?"

She nodded, shaking the shirt as emphasis for me to take it. I did, having a look over it and smiling to myself.

"I'll wash it and give it back to you tomorrow," I promised, taking it off the hanger and holding it with my jeans. "Thanks."

"You can keep it," she said, scratching the back of her head apprehensively. "I've got loads."

"Oh, no, I can't do that," I began to deny, but she shook her head.

"It's fine, I'm giving it to you," she said, before smiling sweetly. "I'm sure you'll look better in it anyway."

Again with the warmth spreading up my neck...

"I doubt that," I quipped with a small smile.

"Go! Go get changed," she said, already pushing me towards the door. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

I snickered, letting her shove me into the hallway, before heading into the bathroom to get ready. The shirt was oversized, so there was no need to be worried it wouldn't fit. It was actually really nice, plus I liked it that extra bit more knowing Wanda gave it to me. Though I knew I wouldn't keep it. It was hers and she was just being nice.

When I finished making myself look presentable, I headed downstairs and found the twins at the kitchen counter, chatting between themselves. Their chatter ceased when I walked in, with Wanda biting her lip and looking me up and down with satisfaction.

"I was right," was all she said, making me nervous. "You do look better in it than me."

—

The day after that, I did as I said I would and returned Wanda's shirt to her, washed, folded and ironed. Knowing she wouldn't accept it without a fight, I left it in her bag when she wasn't looking during class.

I should have expected her to approach me at my locker afterwards.

"It was supposed to be a gift," she said, and I saw her pretty face reflected in the mirror hung inside my locker.

I turned around, already knowing what she was talking about.

"I told you I couldn't accept," I said politely, giving her a small smile. "I appreciate it though." She seemed disappointed which obviously didn't help with my feelings for her, so I took a leap and added, "Maybe I can get my own at their next concert. In the summer, right?"

She picked up on what I meant and smiled, stifling a laugh. Running a hand through her hair, she met my gaze and I found myself frozen in place as always, unable to look away. I wondered if she knew what she was doing when she did that, knew that she was giving me heart palpitations every time her lips turned into a playful smirk and dark eyes studied me curiously.

My eyes drifted to her lips subconsciously and she must have put on some lip balm or something, prior to finding me just now, as they looked shiny and pink and just so damn kissable. Nate was one lucky guy.

—

Having faced issues with Nate three times now (AKA the three times he happened to launch a football at my head), I'd figured I wouldn't be seeing the last of him. He was a dick, meaning he had a natural inclination to piss people off, particularly me. But I never thought he'd go for Y/BF/N.

We were chilling by our lockers, chatting about his film project, when his books suddenly got knocked out of his hands and he was shoved against the lockers. I straightened up when I saw it was Nate, looking pissed off as he had Y/BF/N's shirt bundled in his fist.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted, trying to shove him off, but he merely pushed me back.

"This isn't your business," he said to me before glaring at Y/BF/N, who was quiet with panic. "You. You've been hanging around my girlfriend and I don't like it."

The colour drained from Y/BF/N's face as Nate slammed his hand to the lockers beside his head, startling him.

"I want you to stay the fuck away from Wanda!" he ordered, and students were starting to pick up on the fight that was clearly about to break out. "You fucking hear me, you nerd? Stay the fuck away!"

Poor Y/BF/N nodded his head, eyes avoiding Nate's. Meanwhile, I was angrier than Nate probably was. Y/BF/N had done nothing wrong. Maybe Nate had just seen Wanda hanging with me and because Y/BF/N was always with me, assumed the worst. Either way, this was no way to handle the situation and I was not gonna let this dick threaten my friend.

"Get the fuck away from him, Nate," I said through gritted teeth, glaring a hole into the side of his head.

Nate barely glanced my way. "I told you this isn't your business, honey."

"Five seconds," I said, standing behind him as a crowd began to form. "You've got five seconds or I'm gonna kick you."

He seemed to ignore me as he tightened his grip on Y/BF/N's shirt, only pissing me off more.

"Five," I began to count down, the grip on my books tightening with nerves and anger. "Four."

He still didn't look my way, just kept slapping Y/BF/N's face to scare him.

"Three, two, one," I said quickly, tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Without waiting anymore, I kicked him between the legs with full force, watching as he instantly let go of Y/BF/N and doubled over. Everybody began to laugh, some making 'ooh' noises, but the consensus was clear – it definitely sucked to be Nate right now.

I tried not to laugh as I watched his face scrunch with pain, turning red. I was starting to appreciate my choice of wearing my doc marten boots today.

"No more balls for the guy who keeps throwing them at my fucking head," I got out, jaw clenching.

He looked up, his face crossing with realisation as he recognised me. In response, he glared in my direction, but it didn't faze me.

"Come on, Y/BF/N," I said, looking to my startled friend. "Let's go."

"What on Earth is going on over here?!" a teacher's voice rang out in the distance, and I groaned internally.

When I turned to leave, I heard Nate from behind me, grunting with dissatisfaction.

"Fuckin' dyke," he mumbled under his breath, and I paused, clenching my fists.

"Y/N, don't–" Y/BF/N tried to stop me, but I was too pissed to care.

I spun around and punched Nate square in the face, feeling good as his smirking face scrunched in pain and his back hit the lockers from the impact.

"Woah!" a teacher came out of nowhere, shoving herself between us and pushing me away from him. "What the hell is going on here?!"

I shook my hand to ease the pain on my knuckles, though the pain couldn't stop the grin on my lips as Nate raised his hands to his face, holding his busted nose. Students were going crazy, egged on by the potential fight, and for once, I didn't mind the attention. Nate had that coming for a while now.

"Everybody back to class! Now!" the teacher yelled, glaring all around her, before her eyes settled on Nate and I. "You two. Nurse's office now."

Nate glared at me behind his bloody nose and, once again, I tried not to laugh. Y/BF/N patted my back, amazement written on his face, before letting me leave with the teacher and an unusually silent Nate.

—

Kicking Nate in the groin and punching him in the face wasn't something I did to get attention, yet that's exactly what happened. Word of the incident spread around the school quite quickly, so much in fact that even students from other grades became aware of the situation and were approaching me to tell me how awesome I was. The whole thing was definitely strange, but I could tolerate it.

What I couldn't tolerate was having Chemistry after lunch and wondering if Wanda knew.

Would she hate me for punching her boyfriend? I wasn't sure. I just knew that when she walked into class and sat next to me, I felt everyone's eyes subtly watching us as if waiting for her to explode at me.

I'd been given an ice pack for my bruised hand after my visit to the nurse's office earlier whilst Nate had been treated for his broken nose (the fact that I'd broken it was hilarious to me, since I knew I wasn't even that strong). The principal had a very angry yell at us both in his office, neither of us willing to reveal the premise of our fight, before giving us detention every day after school for two weeks straight as punishment. Of course, Nate got his two weeks at a different time to mine for fear I'd punch him again (he definitely didn't like that, but he couldn't exactly say that to to principal).

I didn't bother using the ice pack in Chemistry for fear Wanda may ask what was up. I successfully managed to hide my hand and as a second surprise of the day, Wanda mentioned nothing about the incident. Not one thing about her boyfriend, about Y/BF/N, about any of it. I thought she might hint at it, trying to get me to bring it up. But she didn't which made me think she actually had no idea it even happened. Had anyone told her? Had he told her? Nah, probably not. His fragile masculinity probably caused him to change the story to something else so he didn't look like a wimp in front of his girlfriend.

Whatever it was, I was safe for now.

Thinking I'd got away with a confrontation from Wanda, I went about the rest of my day as usual. Well, that was until I was replacing some books in my locker at the end of the day and saw Wanda at her locker behind me, arguing with– yep, you guessed it. Nate.

Y/BF/N was collecting some books from his own locker beside me and we both exchanged looks as we saw the two lovebirds in a heated argument. Just when we were about to leave, someone cleared their throat from behind us, making us turn around.

Wanda was stood there, backpack hanging from her shoulder, beside Nate, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Hi," he started quietly, making Wanda clear her throat. He glanced at her before looking to Y/BF/N. "Look, man, I'm really sorry about earlier. I was wrong about what I said. We cool?"

I tried not to laugh at the way Nate was being forced to apologise by his girlfriend. Y/BF/N glanced to me with questioning eyes, so I simply shrugged.

"I guess...," he finally answered Nate, still a little awkward.

Nate nodded before looking to me. He still had his reservations, judging from the twitch in his expression, but for Wanda's sake, he kept his cool.

"I'm sorry for treating you badly," he said reluctantly. "With the football and just generally."

God, it was so hard not to laugh in his face right now. His nose had gauze taped to it and it made him look like an idiot. I fake coughed to disguise my smile, before meeting his gaze.

"It's, er, cool," I said, not in the mood to be an arsehole to him, even though he deserved it. I'd punched him – I think we were equal for now.

He nodded, before staying quiet. Glancing to Wanda, he waited for her to say something. She rolled her eyes and nodded for him to leave. When he was gone, she sighed tiredly.

"I only heard about what happened after Chem class," she said, mainly to me, a guilty expression on her lips. "I'm so sorry he acted like a jerk."

I chewed my lip, unsure what to say.

"It's okay, Y/N here took care of it," Y/BF/N said, smiling with amusement at me. Okay, well now she definitely knew.

"Yeah, sorry you felt you had to do that," she said with a grimace. "I guess he deserved it though."

"Kind of," I agreed, before noticing the regretful frown on her lips. "He apologised though. It's already happened. I kinda broke his nose... No point in dwelling on it."

She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah..." Her eyes fell to my bruised hand before lifting it gently. I winced at the ache, but let her hold it, studying the purple bruise painted across my knuckles. "That looks bad."

It felt good punching him though, but I wasn't about to say that since it was her boyfriend I was talking about.

"It's alright," I said dismissively, shrugging. "Nate kind of got it worse. I'll live."

The pad of her thumb stroked the bruise gently and I held my breath, the feeling of her hands holding mine sending shivers up my arm. Her eyes flickered to mine, softened with guilt, before she let go of my hand.

"I should head home," she said after a pause. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Y/BF/N said for both of us, sensing my loss of words.

Wanda held my gaze once more, eyes half lidded as they glanced down. Before I could even question what she was looking at, she waved goodbye and left.

"She's either starting to realise what a dick her boyfriend is or she's just really into you," Y/BF/N said, patting me on the back. "Maybe both, who knows?"

—

"You definitely cheated," I told Y/BF/N once we finished yet another round of air hockey. "Nobody wins six times in a row like that!"

He laughed at my expression. "Tell me, dear Y/N. How would I cheat? The concept of the game is simple, really. It's not my fault you're terrible."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Seventh time's the charm. C'mon."

He chuckled, about to put more money in the machine, before his eyes got distracted by something behind me. "Well, would you look at that. The Maximoff twins are here."

"Very funny," I said with a knowing look. "You can't throw me off like that. We've established I'm already terrible. Now c'mon. Let's go!"

"I wish I was joking," he said, shaking his head.

I scoffed, not believing him, and turned around to prove him wrong, but I was surprised when I saw Wanda and Pietro walking into the arcade we were in. They seemed to spot us instantly, waving in our direction before approaching us.

"Fancy seeing you here," Pietro teased with a smile as they stopped before us.

I cracked a smile as Y/BF/N joined my side. "We're hanging out. And you?"

Wrapping an arm around his sister's shoulder, he tugged Wanda close to him. "Sibling bonding time."

Wanda rolled her eyes at his childishness, but I could tell she found it endearing all the same.

"Well, if you want, you can hang with us," Y/BF/N offered, and we all looked to him, myself raising a brow his way. He seemed to sense my reluctance, it egging him on as he grinned at them. "Y/N doesn't mind. Do you, Y/N?"

I swallowed hard as I looked between the twins. "'Course not."

And that's how I found myself playing arcade games with the Maximoff twins that Saturday afternoon. It was actually pretty fun, with Pietro being as competitive as I was and Wanda being the sweetest loser with everything she played. It was so adorable, but I ended up letting her win some games of skee-ball just so I could see that cute nose scrunch of hers as she realised she'd won.

"You gonna let me win like that, too?" Pietro caught on as he took his sister's place in playing against me. He had a mischievous grin on his lips and I felt my mouth go dry at what he was implying.

"You wish," I said, playing it cool, though I wondered if he cared that I clearly let Wanda win. He wouldn't read into it, right?

Pietro took his go as he spoke. "So, I heard what happened with you and Nate at school last week."

I closed my eyes, cringing at the reminder. Pietro merely laughed.

"You kicked him super hard, right?" he asked excitedly. "I heard his face went so red with anger that you could fry an egg on it! And don't forget that punch, goddamn what I would pay to have seen that!"

"Pietro!" Wanda scolded from behind us as her and Y/BF/N played air hockey. "Don't be a tool!"

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment as Pietro continued to laugh. Y/BF/N joined in whilst Wanda tried to hide the smile dancing on her lips.

"You're not even together anymore," Pietro called to Wanda between laughter. Wait, did I hear that right?

"You and Nate broke up?" Y/BF/N asked with disbelief. "Our grade's 'it' couple broke up?"

Wanda ran a hand through her hair to distract from her flittering eyes. "He treated you horribly last week. Both of you." She glanced my way before looking at her shoes. "He was a jerk. It was long overdue... Also, I would have broken up with him there and then had I known what he'd said to you. I'm sorry he said what he did."

She stared at me with apologetic eyes and I wasn't sure what to say or do other than nod awkwardly and look away. The fact that she'd broken up with him put a smile on my face though.

"I just think it's awesome," Pietro admitted, before saluting playfully to me. "Thank you for your service. I knew you were awesome, but this is a whole new level."

I sighed, attempting to hide my smile, before straightening up to play. Pietro and I played some skee-ball before I decided to have a go at the claw machine. Wanda was at the one beside me, attempting to win herself a fluffy black cat plush toy. She'd had three goes before giving up, admitting to defeat.

"Typical Wanda," Pietro teased. "Giving up when the going gets tough."

She punched him in the arm, making him jump and rub it. That elicited a smile from her, making me laugh at their immaturity.

"How about Wanda and I go and get a table in the diner next door whilst you finish up winning whatever it is you're trying to win?" Y/BF/N asked, looking to me, as if assigning blame.

"I already told you, I'm not leaving this machine until I win at least one thing," I stated stubbornly.

"The amount of money you've put into the machine won't make up for whatever you win," Y/BF/N teased with amusement.

"Just go," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I'll be there soon."

"I'll wait with her," Pietro said, resting a hand on my shoulder, making me shrug him off jokingly. "See you soon," he added with a laugh, to his sister and Y/BF/N.

When they left, I looked to Pietro with an amused smile. "I don't need you to look after me, y'know."

He shrugged and looked through the glass of the claw machine. "I know. But I stayed to give you some advice, princess."

"Oh, really? And what advice is that?" I asked, before putting some coins in the machine to have another go.

"People usually tend to win these things for people they like, right?" he asked, nodding to the plush toys in the machine.

"Or for themselves," I corrected with a curious smile. "Take Wanda for example. How badly did she want that cat?"

He crossed his arms, smiling with amusement. "You could win it for her, y'know."

"What?" I asked, half paying attention as I attempted to grab a teddy bear.

"Win the cat for my sister and give it to her?"

I ended up dropping the teddy from the claw as I looked to Pietro with shock. He laughed at my expression, leaning against the machine.

"You do like her, right? Otherwise this is awkward," he added as an afterthought, looking down and smiling to himself.

My jaw hung open. "I– er– I never really– I don't–"

"She must definitely like you," Pietro noted, glancing at me.

I licked my lips as I found my words. "Did she," I cleared my throat, "did she say something?"

"Well, no," he said, "but she looks like she wants to murder me every time I hang out with you."

"That's just a coincidence," I said, shaking my head and looking back to the machine. "She's not–" I thought about, before shaking my head again. "No."

I appreciated Pietro's help, but Wanda definitely didn't like me like that. She was just protective of her brother and friendly to me. It didn't mean anything.

"Look, you don't have to listen to me," he said, straightening up and looking at the machine as I slotted another coin in. "But you could give it a shot. See what happens."

I glanced at him, his blue eyes watching me knowingly, a matching smirk on his lips.

"Fine," I gave in, hoping it wouldn't backfire. "Let's see what happens..."

Yellow Metal - cathartic Review

Here’s something I did not expect to be reviewing this week but when Zayn drops a 24 minute rap track, you fall in line. I had to listen to it a couple times through before I could even begin to make sense of my thoughts because my brain sort of malfunctioned. I have never been prouder to be a Zayn fan. He’s such a nuanced songwriter and there is so much to unpack here.

I think this is the most unfiltered version of Zayn that we have ever been exposed to (and possibly will ever be). I am grateful that he said his piece in this because it needed to be said. As a brown woman, I felt so seen by this and I cannot explain what that means to me. Thank you Z, for your unvarnished truth in addressing racism and various forms of discrimination.

I’m doing a short lyrical analysis below the cut, but the TLDR is that this is a fantastic piece of art that deserves to be heard.

I wish he had released this as an EP because that would be easier to review than a single 24 minute song, structurally speaking. So instead, I have picked out some key lyrics, going from top to bottom, that really spoke to me and decided to study the song that way. His lyricism is hard-hitting in this track. It is beyond anything he has ever released before.

“The planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving until we ascend so fuck the fence.” — I have not seen this lyric being talked about in the fandom, because the lyrics that follow this steal the show, rightly so, but I wanted to give this line a moment because it’s important too. To me, this lyric speaks to where Zayn is at with his relationship with the physical world. He’s out on the farm (about which he even goes to say “tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor”) and I believe he’s happy in his space and he feels connected to nature (also see River Road). So it is a poignant and slightly jaded, but valid perspective that he shares on climate change. It’s never leaving until we ascend. The damage human beings have done to the planet won’t be undone until there are no humans left to do damage. It’s a single sentence that says so much about the depth of the climate crisis. I’m doing my PhD on urban air quality so this is something I care really deeply about and I resonated with.

“And until they stop killing colour, it’s fuck the feds.” — Yeah, agreed Zayn. The systemic racism that he calls out here is echoed throughout the song, in equal parts anger and boldness. I love that he isn’t glossing over it with metaphors, which he could easily do and it would be beautiful in a totally different way, but this makes it harder for racists to overlook. There is so much power in calling it like it is.

“Never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a Benadryl, keeping it green in general.” — It frustrates me to no end to see Zayn painted as this drug-addicted lazy musician that doesn’t care about his work, because we know how untrue that is. This narrative is tired and simply boring too, and I won’t get into the racist connotations of it when you consider it against his white colleagues who smoke as much as him but that isn’t one of their defining traits in the media.

“I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work … it was hard work that got me heard” — I love the juxtaposition in this verse. The public/media perception on his career is that Zayn doesn’t put in effort or that he doesn’t want it. This obviously stems from his leaving the band. It goes back to what I was saying before about narrative, when in reality, as Zayn has said on various occasions, he fights to make his own choices. And that doesn’t have to look the way everyone else expects it to (“I beg you, don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt”), he has his own struggles that have helped forge his path, but it is his path that he paved, himself. He works hard to be heard. He has to. It reminds me of something my parents used to tell me when I was younger about being immigrants: you have to work 10 times harder for the same opportunities just because of the colour of your skin or your name on the cv. It’s a harsh truth to grow up with but it was my reality, as it is for most POC.

“This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm you. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here ‘til they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80…” — There is something about the simplicity of these lyrics are the messaging that I love. He isn’t trying too hard to sound poetic but he still manages it perfectly.

“All I've been achieving, clocking miles in this region, moving like a legion. Promise that I made to myself, an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving? Staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving. // I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy. It’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on the mike.” — This is the only 1D-related lyric I’ll make reference to because this song is about so much more than that. That said though, we cannot overlook Zayn’s experiences in the band because that is part of his story. The tongue-in-cheek of “I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving” is hilarious to me. The line about not wanting to be his own enemy anymore and growing up from 17 reminds me of that quote Taylor (Swift) mentioned in Miss Americana about celebrities getting stuck at the age they got famous. I think this verse is similar to that. None of them ever wanted to be in the band and I don’t care what anyone says, Zayn leaving and proving success outside the band gave the rest of them the courage to follow their own solo careers. Sure there was drama surrounding the split but he did it for himself, to tell his stories the way he is now. Whatever else you have to say about him, you cannot deny his authenticity.

“I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane.” — I think this line tells us 2 things, the first being that this song was not leaked. Z knew what he was doing and his twitter likes tell us as much. He didn’t release it for any sort of attention, otherwise it would be widely available on streaming platforms and for purchase. Which leads to my second point, he released this song to get everything he talks about on the track off his chest. Its referenced in other lyrics too, like “now you see where I come from, the world don’t.” This was for whoever cared to listen, not the world. It’s inaccessible for a reason. I love that he threw those lyrics in. It makes the song feel more like a private conversation or listening to a friend rant. It creates a different form of intimacy between himself and his fans.

“Lessons that I’ve learned, I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself. So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt.” — This one is for anyone that buys into conspiracy theories surrounding Zayn’s personal life. He surrounds himself with real people, real friendships, real connections. I have never bought into the bullshit that he has zero autonomy over his personal life. I love the use of plastic melting as a metaphor for ridding his life of fakeness.

“Feeling trapped. This industry is a cage.” — Zayn is obviously not the first person to say it. Many artists talk about how suffocating the industry is ( which he further comments on in the sung portion: “I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this”). Fame is such a wild and unnatural concept and the exploitation and politics of the music industry only feed further into it. The industry being a cage makes me think of zoos and how celebrities are animals on display, when they should be free in the wild. I also really like the musical interlude following this part.

“Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views.” — Zayn toes the line between keeping to himself and speaking out on important issues, sometimes not very well. I am his biggest cheerleader, but I’m not up his ass. There have been many occasions where he could’ve done better. But I cannot fault him for being offended by the State because same, Z, same. I love that he took this song as an opportunity to real speak out, no punches pulled.

“See I’ve been facing the racists from back when I were a kiddie. Born up in 93’. Living in Bradford City, they kicked me out of the school. Said they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p***, still sit in the classroom, chilling. I’m angry now that I’m older cause I see they treat us different. Got me thinking I’m the problem ‘cause they never dealt with these issues.” — See what I meant about no punches pulled. He said that! He said it like that too. There is so much in this verse that I relate to, it hits a little too deep. I grew up as a brown in predominantly white communities where the colour of my skin was the reason I was outcasted. We know when that’s happening, clear as day. The lyric “got me thinking that I’m the problem cause they never dealt with these issues” says it all. I have many racial traumas that I’m dealing with as an adult because the adults around me when I was a child didn’t deal with racism in the classroom. They do treat us different!

“20 years later, I’m still in the same boat. Tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for. Man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? // Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them. ‘Boy your skin is so light.’ Ok motherfucker, take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.” — Zayn talking his shit is my new favourite art form. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? Something that I will always be enraged by is that POC are expected to de-escalate situations of racism. We have to push our feelings down, as Zayn says in the verse, because the institution is against us. All of the institutions are against us. The fact that he takes it a step farther to say that his name makes him a target for racism, even though he is half-white just nails his point home. Also, can we please quit the whole ‘Zayn is white-passing’ bullshit. He alludes to it again later in the song (“asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define”). Its not a compliment to erase someone identity in favour of white-washing them.

“My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.” — Oh, the amount of times we have heard that age old (v. racist) saying ‘{celebrity of colour} is the new [insert white celebrity here]’ as if POC aren’t allowed to succeed in their own right. It is wild to me that Zayn has to deal with this given his level of success.

“Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening. I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine.” — There is a subtle nod to racism (and Islamaphobia) in this line, because of course the brown man is a threat, but I like the way Z turns it around. I also like the rhyme scheme.

“Raised on the benefit for whose benefit? They’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.” — Okay I might be reaching here, but this is just my interpretation. We all know the benefit system in the UK sucks. Being raised on benefit implies a lack of money growing up, but the benefits aren’t really all that beneficial to the families that rely upon them.

“Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause I hit the nerve.” — Well, okay then, just call me out. It’s fine. I seriously feel like he’s talking to me directly with this line. I imagine a lot of us do. Its one of those lyrics that are a bit too honest but that why we love them.

“Cathartic, I’m an artist. Trying to put my heart in” // “Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name.” — So do we have an alternate persona for Zayn now? Alright, I’m down. I think these two lines are tied together, because both are mentioned in the song title. (I think of the song as cathartic, by Yellow Metal, aka Zayn, or Yellow Metal as the name of the EP if this was officially released). The lyrics that accompany both title lyrics, along with the subject matter of the song as a whole, suggest that his heart is in standing up against injustices. I said it earlier, this is the most unvarnished version of Z that we have ever been exposed to. Almost like the complete picture to the puzzle pieces we’ve been putting together over the years.

“They’re tryna kill us with disease.” — Why did this line scream out ‘COVID-19 outbreaks in developing countries’ to me? Again, I might be reaching, but there is a disparity between how COVID is treated amongst minorities, along with many other diseases, and not to mention rich, primarily white countries hoarding vaccine supplies while places like India (and my beautiful Bangladesh and I’m sure Pakistan too) suffer needlessly.

“Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next. Just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around ’til I’m the best.” — I think this lyric shows off Zayn’s sentimental side more than it does his ambitious side, because we know he’s in this for the long haul. Others may doubt that but his fans never have. But hearing him talk openly about being a father on a song is something else. It’s like Khai added this whole other layer of meaning and purpose to his life and it’s beautiful to watch. I’ve been here since the X-Factor auditions guys!! It makes me so emotional to witness him like this.

“Aint many of me around, p***, I’m just different. Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil, fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto.” — God, we’ve been waiting for a fuck the label moment in this house, haven’t we? I won’t get into my theories on his label or his team, but none of us deny the fact that they should be doing more for him than they are. He has the potential to be the biggest thing with the right team and promo because he has a built-in fan base that would go the mile for him. Obviously, there’s also his aversion to promo to contend with and that’s his decision. Even without it, he could shatter every ceiling. Another thing I want to mention about this verse is the nod to the complete lack of South Asian representation in contemporary Western media.

“Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse.” — I’m just putting this in here because it made giggle. Also going to take this space to say how much I love his energy in this song. He knows he’s the shit, as he should!

“Can’t be louder … so free Gaza on my banner.” // “They’re hating on Palestine ways.” — I love that Zayn has always supported this movement, years ago, before being ‘woke’ was a thing. But now, he has a daughter that has Palestinian heritage and I’m sure that makes this hit that much deeper for him, personally. The apartheid in Palestine is heart-wrenching. It’s so strange to me to watch it happen, because I never thought I would witness something like this happening in 2021, yet here we are.

“Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing. We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route. Say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown. I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.” — This verse is straight up savage and I am living for it! I find it hilarious that he called Biden a snake. This verse addresses the truth about politics, that even electing a left-wing leader doesn’t fix the system.

“I’m Tony Stark, still embarking on a dream” // “Gone green like Bruce Banner” // “He taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten.” — And to tie it all off, I wanted to take a goofy moment to mention all the superhero lyrics Z added in this song, really showing his personality because I’m such a nerd when it comes to this stuff and it makes me wish that we were friends so I could annoy him to death about it.

Did someone say Zoya and Genya getting ready for a ball? I had this sitting in my computer for a while. I've written it at the same time of the Nikolai/Genya interaction and went for that instead, leaving this unfinished, so that's the reason why they're similar. But even if this is not wildly original I decided to post it, maybe some of you will enjoy it anyway!

together now - AO3

word count: 2661 (cause I can’t write short fics sorry)

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“Zoya, if you move again, I’m going to turn your hair purple.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. Drama queen. Whoever believed that getting ready for a party with your friends was fun, clearly never had to deal with Genya’s perfectionist and dictatorial tendencies. She purposely shifted in her chair in front of the vanity, making Genya glare at her.

“Do you want me to complete my masterpiece or not?”

No, not really. Nothing about going to Sainkt Nikolai’s ball seemed to be exciting. Dreadful and annoying were the only two terms she could come up with to describe the evening in front of her. Mainly having to do to the fact that she was going to have to watch Nikolai and his future wife simper over courtiers and nobles, with the bride-to-be practically coerced to attend the ball. And she wasn’t even allowed to get drunk; saints forbid someone attempted to murder the king again.

“Do you want your hair up or down?” Asked Genya, moving some strands of her hair over her ears.

“Are you really inquiring for my opinion?” The squaller noted ironically, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“No, of course not. Down is better, they make you seem wilder.”

She winked at her and Zoya huffed again. Genya began braiding some thin locks away from her face, leaving the rest of her mane free on her shoulders. She weaved the fine tresses with silver threads and held them in place with diamonds pins. Zoya relaxed under her delicate touch.

“A bit more practice with breaking Grisha’s orders and I’m going to tailor myself at some point. What are you going to do when the day comes?”

She had meant it as a joke, the tone light. But through the mirror she saw a shadow pass behind Genya’s eyes and immediately regretted her words and lack of tact. They knew only one person who had held as much power as Zoya was wielding now; he was rotting in a cell beneath them, and Genya would forever wear his marks on her skin. Of course her mind would have run to him; she tended to darken whenever they touched the argument surrounding Zoya’s newly acquired abilities.

“I hadn’t meant to make you think about that, Genya. I’m sorry.”

Genya smiled at her, coming back to her delightful self.

“It’s okay. I’m just a bit worried about - well, about everything. How is it going with these powers? I’ve spied on you summoning fire the other day. You were glorious.”

Zoya curled her lips and held up her arm, making the fetter made of dragon scales dangle. Juris rumbled inside her. She had told Genya what happened in the Fold, in broad outline. Zoya knew that even if they didn’t say it, they were all concerned with this. She caught them glancing at her sometimes, as if they were waiting for a ticking bomb to go off. It was unpleasant, but she understood them; after all, she was waiting for herself to go off too.

“I’m managing. I’m still not so sure of what I can or cannot do.”

Genya kept working on her hairstyle thoughtfully, letting the quiet stretch between them. She bit her lower lip before adding something else, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Does it feel good?”

Zoya understood that question too. Power is protection. No matter the cost, it would always hold its appeal for a Grisha. That was the pull they felt towards the Darkling too.

“It feels risky.” She answered after a while, releasing a long breath. It was not like her to betray uncertainty or weakness, but she hadn’t anticipated how both frightening and fascinating it would feel to be in this position. “It’s so much power, Genya. What if I can’t control it?”

“If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you, Zoya.” There was not hesitation in this answer. Yet, Zoya didn’t feel much reassured. She didn’t have a sense of who – or what – she was becoming.

“What if it’s too much power?” She realized that was not the right question, the one thing she dreaded to come true. She corrected herself. “What if it’s not enough, and I want more?”

At this, Genya paused, avoiding Zoya’s gaze, and fell terribly silent. She looked worried, almost scared. A shiver went through Zoya’s spine at the idea of eliciting something like fear in one of the people she loved most. She felt a stabbing guilt and the sudden realization that she didn’t want to explore this topic more and find out what Genya was thinking. She waved a soothing smile at her friend, hoping to stir this exchange away.  

“Enough of this. Don’t you want to show me the dress?”

Genya’s eye lightened up as she was pulled out from her gloom towards a more delightful diversion. She turned to the bed and pulled up Zoya’s gown, handing it to her. As usual, Genya had outdid herself. The gown matched the decor in her hair: Zoya thought of the dark midnight sky over Pachina while looking at it, one of the few memories she held from her childhood. When Genya moved it towards her, a million tiny crystals sparkled like stars against the sheer fabric. Zoya slipped inside it gracefully and turned to her, making the dress shimmer; the red head was gloating.

“I always give you the best dresses. All eyes are going to be stuck on you.”

Zoya doubted it, considering how equally gorgeous the other girl was looking right now, hugged by velvet the colour of blood. Genya made her wirl around on herself while she smoothed the dress; Zoya tried to reach for the wine, but Genya snatched the glass from her hands. She shrugged her shoulders at her outraged look. “What? I’m not going to let you stain this magnificent gown, excuse me.”

“You know, you have David’s adoration all for yourself.” Zoya pointed out, scowling. “Don’t get greedy. Let them admire me instead. If I can’t get drunk, I can at least have a different kind of fun.”

Genya rolled her single eye turning her gaze to Zoya, furrowing a brow at her.

“I do hope that by now you know that you have someone’s adoration all for yourself, too.”

Genya had clearly noticed the subtle shifts in Zoya and Nikolai’s behaviour, since she had been dropping this casual and mildly vague comments for a while now. At first, Zoya just ignored them; but then it occurred to her that denying what was going on was not the way to fight this. That maybe the right angle was to approach it much like a military campaign: know your enemy before you defy it. Which for her, it meant to understand what was happening so that she could crush it. And since feelings were not an area of expertise for Zoya, she had figured Genya could come in handy. So at some point she had just let it become a mutual understanding that this whatever-it-was-thing was out in the open, and she started posing carefully pondered question of her own. Zoya crossed Genya’s eye for an instant, replying with a sceptical click of her tongue.

“Both his adoration and his efforts better be for Ehri, for all our sakes. Much like his gaze better be kept on her all night like she’s the most beautiful creature to ever grace this earth. If he cannot sell it to her, at least he has to sell it for the rest of the world.”

“With you in that dress it’s going to be a challenge to look at anyone else.” Teased Genya, grinning. Zoya glared at her, pushing down the uncomfortable satisfaction this remark brought.

“He seems rather immune to my appearance and my presence.”

A poor and unconvincing objection, to say the least. Genya scoffed, handing her the wine as if she was going to need it to hear what came next. Zoya gladly took the offering.

“You do realize I’m a Corporalki, right?”

“What would that mean, apart from making people faint every now and then?”

“It means he can keep his eyes trained on the ceiling all night for all I care, because I’ll still feel his heartbeat spike up every time you pass beside him.”

Zoya didn’t much like to have this particular piece of information, that stirred some unpleasant feelings in her lungs. She swallowed the rest of the alcohol, her throat burning for something else entirely.

“Do you peer in all your friend’s visceral reaction for fun?”

“Just the two of you. Want to know what happens with you?” Mused Genya, knowing damn well the curiosity that sparkled in Zoya’s eyes and even more well feeling her breath itch. Know your enemy, right? Zoya grunted, not even bothering to try and look unfazed.

“Fine. Rip the band aid off.”

“Your heart usually beats like it’s at war. On the contrary, it slows down when he’s around, like you feel- I don’t know, safer. At home.”

Zoya fell silent, turning the words over in her head. It was always a punch in the gut when she wondered when things have started to turn and understood just how much they had turned. Instead of lingering on this painful realization, she did what she knew best and deflected the conversation again where it hurt most. She had the strange belief that if the heart was indeed a muscle, you had to train it like any other one in your body. The more pressure and blows you would put into it, the less you would feel the pain with time. Yuyeh sesh. Be cruel to your heart.

“How are the preparation for the wedding going?”

“As good as they can be.” Genya’s gaze turned sweet and affectionate, and she went along. “No one would say anything, you know. If you wanted to stay away for a while or get some distance.”

“We both know that a lot of people would say a lot of things.” Zoya held her chin high. “And you know that’s not my way of doing things. This is my place; I’m not going to let anyone take it away.”

I don’t want to live in darkness. She fought and lost and suffered to get to where she was. She was certainly not going to give it up for a bad timed and poorly chosen crush. An idiotic and simple crush. Genya nodded, getting the hint that it was enough for today. She seemed to remember something and got back to her tailoring kit.

“Speaking of Nikolai, there’s one thing missing. He gave them to me before I came here.”

Genya walked towards her and clipped what looked like a pin on her dress. She made her turn around to look herself in the mirror. Zoya felt something warming her from the inside when she looked at it; it was more of a medal than a pin. Ravka’s double eagle was shining on her chest, pleated gold, with Alina’s sun behind it and an Etherealki blue ribbon. It resembled the medals she saw on the supposedly war heroes’ generals that worked with Nikolai, but it was more elegant. She brushed her finger on it, full of pride.

“Me and David have one too.” Genya showed her the other one she was holding before securing it on herself. It was Corporalki red. “David has a Materialki purple ribbon. Nikolai told me people should always know we are his most trusted generals and friends. That we work for Ravka as much as he does, and we are owed the same respect, even at a ball.”

Respect. Recognition. Another time, Nikolai managed to surprise her. Because this wasn’t just a pretty thing, a nice embellishment. And while she had been his general for almost three years, that didn’t mean people had accepted and treated her with the appropriate regard. This was a symbol of the king’s trust, something that would force the nobles and the army to behave accordingly, even at events where it would be so easy to down-play her and treat her like another beautiful hollow courtier. Stupid thoughtful Nikolai. She was torn between wanting to kill him for making her feel like this or kiss him senseless for the same reason. Get a grip, Zoya.

“You’re not going to be like him, Zoya.” Zoya startled at Genya words, confused for a moment. She cleared her throat, shoving the treacherous thoughts she was having away. Genya had moved beside her, taking her hand in her own. Looking at Genya firm and proud gaze, she realized they were not talking about Nikolai anymore, and that she hadn’t dropped the conversation before because she was scared or angry at her. It was because she understood where Zoya’s fears were coming from, and she was facing them head on now.

“The Darkling.” She added to clarify, lingering on his name with a tremor in her voice. “Even with all the power you have, you are nothing like him. You managed to do what he had always claimed he wanted, and he had never done: you are saving Grishas, you are rebuilding the Second Army and you hold a position as the King’s right hand. What drives you is not the hunger for power; is the care you have for Ravka and your people. The Darkling wanted to control them, to own them. You protect them.”

Zoya tightened the hold of her hand, while looking at their reflections in the mirror, in the stunning gowns and the triumvirate’s pins. Two women who had believed in the wrong man and kept paying the price for their ingenuity, who had saved themselves in the end. She sucked in a breath, seeing someone she barely recognized; there was almost nothing left of the scared little girl. With the medal on her chest, diamonds in her hair and a glowing fierce light in her eyes she really looked like the leader she aspired to be. She wondered if she was still pretending, or some of the act was now true.

“Stop me before I can become like him.” Zoya blurted out, the words unsteady and whispered. Genya shook her head, leaning in towards her.

“You are different in every way. And you have something he never had; you have people who love you. Believe me, Nikolai is going to burn down all of Os Alta before he lets anything happen to you. None of us is going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not afraid of something happening to me, rather than to others.” What if I hurt Nikolai? What if I hurt anyone of you? Genya lowered her head on her shoulder, still holding her hand.

“We fought our way out of his grip once. We’re not going to let him bring us down. We’re stronger than we were before.”

“And we’re together, now.”

Zoya needed something to anchor herself on; the words felt uncertain, more like a question. Because she knew, deep down she knew she was still somehow living by what he had taught her: love is a weakness. And she knew that while Genya talked of friendship, Zoya herself was distancing from everyone. That she was suffocating her feelings for Nikolai, effectively cutting out the person she had relied on the most. That she didn’t know how to be close to someone. That, like the Darkling, she felt destined to be alone. And yet a part of her still needed to believe that a strand of what she conquered was going to save her, that someone was going to reach for her.

“And we’re together.”

Genya repeated, more firmly. We’re not going to let him bring us down another time. A litany. It was our blood on the skiffs, in the sand, on the rocks of a mountain. I’m nothing like him. An enchantment. And we’re together. He had taught her wrong. One day she would be free of this last cage, too.

DOS: A Princely Predicament (Male Human x Dragon/Reader)

Chapter summary: For years the only interaction you hade with humans was pillaging their villages. So when a king comes to you with a scheme on how to kidnap what would later turn out to be your greatest treasure.

F/C = Favourite colour

* = means (my) father

I hated humans. I just hated them. You could hide your quiet, solitary self, high in a mountain, away from all the drama of the world and somehow one would still scurry its way up to jab at you with its tiny metal handheld spike.

And the worst ones were the ones that dreamt of greatness and glory, and killing a great dragon such as myself seemed to be the most popular way of doing it. Obviously, none of them had succeeded.

So, when this visitor arrived, let’s just say I almost bit his head off before he had even spoken. But I’m glad I didn’t; I got some fine treasure out of it.

“You want me to do what?” I spat, peering down at the king who stood in front of me.

He held his pale face calmly, staying stoic and proud. “To kidnap Prince Lansa and keep him here until I send someone to fetch him,” King Darius said. He and King Alo were rivals. And from what I understood, Darius was desperate for an alliance. But he hated doing things civilly, so he figured that this way was the most convenient way.

“And what’s in it for me?” I hissed, flicking out my tongue.

Darius smirked, scratching his black beard. “Why, treasure of course.” He threw his hand back to a knight stood at the mouth of my cave. He led forward a horse-drawn carriage, piled up with gems and gold. The treasure caught the morning light beautifully.

A grin caught my face. So much treasure for babysitting a prince? I almost laughed at the thought.

“And there’ll be more when you capture the prince, and much more will be given once I send someone to pick him up—for the inconvenience.” He grinned. A few of his knights glanced at each other. “So, do we have a deal, (Y/N)?”

I looked up, focusing on the sky outside. The dripping of water from the man-made pond in the other room filled the silence. Darius stayed completely still and silent. “Very well,” I said finally. “We have a deal.”

He offered his hand to shake. I offered him a claw and shook it. “I look forward to working with you, Darius.”

*~*~*~*

“Let go of me! You foul beast!” Prince Lansa yelled. He wriggled in my front talons, punching my claws.

I chuckled and flew higher. “I’m not going to do that, Princess. You’re much too valuable to let drop.”

Lansa groaned, irritated. “I am not a princess. I am a prince.”

I snorted amusingly. “I’m well aware, Lansa.” I looked ahead at the twinkling stars and the spire that pierced the clouds. The spire that was my home. I flapped my wings harder, putting on a burst of speed.

“What do you want me for?” he demanded, hitting my claws again. I felt something tickle my digits.

I chuckled. “Magic will not free you, Princess.”

Lansa scoffed and held himself still. “Well, what are you going to do with me?”

I smirked. “Eat you, of course. After a good game of cat and mouse, or rather, dragon and human.”

He flinched in my hold and looked down. “Wonderful,” he murmured.

I soared towards my cave, seeing its opening and landing just in front of it, by the smooth, round pillars, holding my wings out for balance as I teetered on my rear legs. I placed Lansa on the ground.

He stumbled forward, gathering his balance. I looked down at him in his red evening suit. I picked up a torch on the ground and blew a plume of fire onto the tar at one end, its warm light illuminating his face as he stared up at me in quiet awe. He had several gold pieces and gems embedded in his ears, a delicate gold chain and ruby around his neck, and bands of gold and silver around almost every digit.

I would hate to admit it, but he had quite a handsome, pointed face with light brown skin and long, dark hair in a long plait.

“What?” Lansa spat, noticing my face. “I thought you said you were going to eat me.”

I cocked a brow. “Well, I lied.” I picked him up by the back of his clothes.

“Hey! My garments are very expensive!” he yelled, throwing his hands all over the place.

I growled and walked on the smooth, straight-line cracked floor. I walked passed the stone, seated human in its chair. Its shattered head lay in rubble by its feet. I hit one of the bigger pieces with my tail, shattering it into smaller pieces.

“How dare you?!” Lansa seethed. “Broella did not give you life just so you could smash her head into such small pieces no one would ever recognise her!”

“I washn’t aware see wash shomeome speshial,” I said between clenched teeth.

“This entire temple is littered with paintings and statues of her. How could you not know about the most important deity to ever exist!” he lectured, crossing his weak rope arms.

I hummed and ignored him, making my way to the back of this so-called temple. In the centre was a man-made pool of water with some other human standing with a bucket of water. Once upon a time, water flowed from the bucket in some magical way, but it no longer did. Surrounding the stone pond were piles upon piles of gold and gems and my soft bed made of goat, sheep and oxen hides.

I dropped Lansa on the hides and pinned him down with my rear leg. He uttered a sound of mild discomfort. “Don’t even think of moving.”

He scoffed and rested his head in his hands.

I rolled my eyes and put down my torch in a stand, rummaging around in a pile of gold, remembering what I’d robbed from a town a few years ago. They had kept a fire phoenix in a cage, so naturally I took the cage and released the fiery bird. The cage itself was silver—whether it was actually silver was another thing—and embedded with gems. So, I kept it.

Finally, I pulled it out from beneath its pile of gold. I shook it, getting rid of any loose coins and gems. I placed it on the ground with a clang. Opening the wire door, lifted my paw from Lansa.

He pushed himself to his tiny feet. “You must be joking,” he said in a flat, yet irritated tone. He scowled at me. The cage was just big enough for him to stand and lie in comfortably.

“In. Now.” I growled, slamming a paw down onto the floor beside him.

“What do you actually want with me?” Lansa said with a penetrating gaze.

“Does it matter?” I lowered my head to get a better look at him.

His brown eyes stared deep into mine. He lifted his suspicious look. “You have beautiful eyes,” he commented.

I raised my head, baffled.

Lansa looked at the cage. “I suppose not. Either way, I’ll either end up dead or you’ll trade me for treasure or a feast,” he answered. He stepped into the cage. “But if I’m expected to stay here, I wish for some pillows and some blankets.”

I peered down at him, closing the door with a soft clatter. “And what happens if I don’t provide things for your comfort?”

He smirked. “I can be very aggravating. Plus, I’ve got magic.”

I barked a laugh, making him jump. “Magic? I’d hardly even say you’re capable of a simple card trick.”

Lansa scoffed, clearly offended. “I promise you; I can be very aggravating.”

Continuing to laugh, I walked away. I went over to my bed of hides. I picked up a bundle of sheep’s wool, a deer hide, a blanket and a cushion, all from raids. Opening the door, I tossed in the soft belongings.

“There,” I said, shutting it. I lay down on my bed, yawning widely.

Lansa got to work quickly. I observed him. Placing the wool down first, he made a mattress. He draped the deer hide over the wool and then set up the cushion and blanket on top. He removed his jacket and lay beneath the blanket, dozing off quickly.

I waited a few moments before coming closer to his cage and lifting it up. I studied him for a moment and hung him from the chandelier high above my bed. As I smothered the light, my eyelids grew heavy, and I dozed off.

*~*~*~*

“Get. Me. Down. From heeeeere!” Lansa bellowed.

I cracked open my eyes with a groan. “Shut up!” I groaned, reaching for a piece of gold. I launched it at him, eyes closed, and missed.

He groaned. “Well, I need to get out of this cage!” he whined urgently.

I lifted my head groggily. “And why exactly to you need to leave the cage?” I asked. I yawned and stretched out my wings.

Lansa sighed. “I have an urgent need,” he mumbled.

I forced myself to my feet, exasperated. I looked at him. He was holding his paws over the fork of his legs, his knees together. I sighed and lowered the cage onto the ground. I opened the door. “Just remember that I’m faster,” I warned.

He jogged out of the room to the entrance of the temple. I plodded after him, stretching my legs. Settling in front of the giant statue of the deity Lansa had lectured me on yesterday, I looked at its robes and narrow figure. I stared at it for a long time, unsure why exactly he had taken so much offense to the rock being broken.

“So now you take an interest, dragon,” Lansa said, emerging through the entrance.

“(Y/N),” I corrected. “That is my name.”

He echoed it quietly and stopped by my talons. “I’ll remember that.”

I hummed. “Who is she?” I asked.

“That is Broella,” Lansa said, “the Goddess of Life. She created the world and everything in it. She is the mother of all gods.”

“Huh,” I said, looking down at him.

He looked up at me with another penetrating gaze. “How do you know my name?”

I looked back at the pale stone statue. “I’ve been watching you for a while.” That was partially true.

“And why have you been watching?” he asked apprehensively.

“Because,” I started, “you’re handsome.” That too was only partially a lie.

Lansa looked away from me. “So, is that why you kidnapped me? To make me your…?” he trailed off, uncomfortable.

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

He looked away. “Wonderful,” he sighed.

I hit him with the end of my tail. “Right. Back into your cage, I have things to do.”

Lansa yelped, stumbling forward. “Ow! Alright. Alright.” He walked back to my hoardroom with me. I locked him back into his cage and left the temple, keeping an eye out for Darius.

*~*~*~*

There had been no sign of Darius all day.

I snorted, frustrated, as I walked into the dark temple. I spared the statue of Broella a glance and walked through to my hoardroom. Lansa was sitting on my bed of hides, reading a book with an orb of yellow light hovering above his open palm. It surprised me he hadn’t just left.

“Still here?” I called, lighting the tar torch and placing it in a stand by the hides.

He shrugged. “Did you bring something to eat?”

I snorted, amused. “You ate last night.”

“But I’m staaarving!” Lansa whined. He was already aggravating, and I’d only spent a few spare moments with him.

“Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll get you a rabbit or something.”

He rushed to his feet. “Can I come with you?”

“Fine. But don’t make a sound.” I was willing to do anything not to risk hearing him whine and moan.

Lansa grinned and went for my leg. He gripped my shoulder, and I tossed him back. “What… are you doing?”

He held his hand to his head. “I was trying to get onto your back.”

“And why would you do that?”

Lansa got to his feet. “How else was I going to keep up with you?”

I sighed. How did this tiny thing with needle-like limbs think of everything? “Alright. But no poking or kicking or anything like that. It is a privilege to ride a dragon, Princess.” I raised my nose.

He huffed. “I promise I won’t poke or kick you.”

I nodded, bending my leg for him to clamber up onto my back.

Lansa got up quickly and settled into the spot between my shoulders and neck. “Alright, let’s go.”

Scoffing, I walked out of the temple. I treaded along the path I had made for myself, staying low to the ground. I avoided low-hanging branches and other obstacles for Lansa. It made me feel ridiculous.

Finally, I glimpsed some movement along the trees. “Off,” I whispered.

Lansa slid off my back without a moment’s hesitation, and I pounced on the movement. A rabbit landed between my claws. I swiftly cut its throat and picked it up. “On,” I ordered. He got onto my back, and I walked back to the temple.

“That was quick,” Lansa commented. “Did your parents teach you to hunt?”

“Yesh,” I responded, entering the temple, my jaws clamped shut. I stopped in the hoardroom and dropped the rabbit on the floor.

Lansa slid off my back and looked at it. “Can you cook it?”

I eyed him. “Cook it?”

“Yes,” he said. “Humans can’t eat meat raw.”

I sighed and blew a plume of flames onto the rabbit. Its skin and fur were burnt away, leaving bare, smoked brown rabbit meat. “There,” I said, walking over to my bed.

Lansa picked up the cooked rabbit and scrambled after me. He sat opposite me on the animal hides. He graciously ate the rabbit. You’d know he was a prince.

“Is it to your standard?” I asked, not truly caring if it was.

He nodded, taking another bite. “Yes. Thank you,” he responded after swallowing.

I looked out of the room, towards the statue’s room. “Of course. Can’t let my Princess have food that’s not up to his liking.”

*~*~*~*

It took two weeks before Darius showed up. And unfortunately, Lansa had grown on me. A lot.

It was ridiculous; I know. But I had developed a bit of a crush on him. He taught me a lot about the statues at the temple; he read to me most nights, and he really enjoyed flying, making him an excellent company.

And I’d rather not bring up about how often I thought about him when I was away. I wondered if he was alright, whether some nasty pest might hurt him, or if Darius had sent his knight and snuck past me. At this point in time, I was honestly questioning whether I was going to let Darius take him away.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Lansa said, touching my foreleg.

I stilled at his touch, coming out of my thoughts. “Princess,” I responded, looking down at him.

He looked up at me. “Are you ok? You’ve been out here for a while. Just… sitting.”

I looked back out at the rising sun. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Thinking? Since when do you think?”

I snorted and hit him with my tail.

“Ow!” he hissed. “Okay, sorry.” He rubbed his lower back. “So, what were you thinking about?”

I hummed, wondering if I should be honest. I drew in a breath. “Lansa,” I started.

He tapped my leg, interrupting me. “Eh, (Y/N), who’s that?” he pointed to the rocky trail that led to the base of the mountain.

I followed his gaze. It was Darius, making his way up with three wagons filled with gold and seven knights. I stood up and spread my wings. I tightened my jaw. Add to my piles of gold or protect Lansa? That was what was running through my mind.

Finally, I said, “Get on my back.”

Lansa looked from me to the king and his knights. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

“I’ll explain later. Just get on my back.” I bent my leg for him to get on.

He glanced at the group getting closer and climbed up onto me. As soon as he was settled, I leaped up into the sky, my wings catching the wind. Lansa gripped my neck as I rose into the sky. Behind me, I heard king Darius yell and swear at me.

Finally, I levelled out over the clouds. Water droplets clung to my scales as I skimmed the clouds. Lansa sat up and looked around. He admired the view before looking at my head.

“(Y/N)? Who were those people?”

I faltered, my wings beating irregularly. “That was King Darius,” I replied, ashamed.

“And why was he coming up to you? And how did he know your name?”

“Because… I made a deal with him,” I sighed. I looked up at the horizon, where the sea of clouds met the bright blue sky.

“What sort of a deal?” Lansa asked suspiciously, leaning over my shoulder, trying to catch my eye.

I stayed silent, unable to respond. We had gotten so close; I couldn’t let that fall apart now.

Lansa sighed, exasperated. “What. Sort of deal. Did you make. With Darius, (Y/N)?” he said, his patience waning.

I looked at the rolling cloud beneath me. “I made a deal… to kidnap you, and guard you. In exchange for treasure,” I admitted, my head dipping sombrely.

He took a moment, cooling off before he spoke. I could tell it outraged him with how his heels dug into my shoulders and his finger clenched my spike. He drew in a large breath and looked up, his face still and regal as his limbs relaxed. “So why did you fly away with me?”

I raised my head. “Because…” I took in a breath, mustering up every bit of courage I had. “Because you mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to lose you. So, I’m going to return you home and fight off Darius or move somewhere else, depending on my mood.” I glanced down; we were almost on top of King Alo’s castle.

“My father won’t just let you leave,” Lansa said.

“Then I will fight my way out. No king has ever captured or imprisoned me.” I snorted out a plume of smoke.

He spluttered and coughed. “That’s not what I m—AHHH!” he was cut off as I dove.

They built the castle in a niche of low-lying canyon, so it was almost out of sight to dragons who couldn’t see it. A longer, more hidden niche was close to it, with tiny houses pointing up from the pale rock. Farms made up the bed of the valley, with a meandering river separating the animals from the vegetable patches.

I slowed to a stop by the castle, landing in the cool courtyard. The walls and roofs of the castle were the same beige colour as the rocks and were at almost ninety-degree angles to each other, as were all the other houses’.

Lansa slid off my back as guards came rushing towards me. I growled and spread my wings.

“No!” Lansa hissed, touching my leg. “Stay, please. My father will want to see you.”

“Why?” I hissed back.

Not a moment later, King Alo appeared through the large wooden doors. He wasn’t much taller than Lansa, with long grey hair in an even longer plait than Lansa had. His skin was slightly paler than his son’s. White robes hung on his body and a necklace made of black bone and white beads decorated his chest. He was in fine health, one of the healthiest older humans I have ever seen.

“Oh, Lannie,” Alo cried, wrapping his arms around Lansa.

The guards pointed their spears at me. I shot them deadly glares, wishing I could hit them with my tail, or bat them away with my wings, or lash at them with my claws. But I didn’t. I lashed my tail in irritation and glanced at each one or their painted faces.

Lansa held his father close. “It’s good to be back, Nòsh*,” he whispered.

I looked away from the two. Such a sappy view made me uncomfortable. I shifted on my feet, monitoring the guards.

Lansa released his father, giving him a smile that said, “I won’t admit it, but I missed you”.

“And who might this be?” King Alo asked in the same suspicious tone Lansa used.

I inclined my head to him. “I am—”

“—Nòsh. This is (Y/N).” Lansa introduced, cutting me off. “He/She/They rescued me from the terrible dragon that stole me away.” He put his hand to his heart and looked up at me with the awe-inspired and grateful look. He looked back at his father. “He/She/They brought me back here to make sure I got home safe. Apparently, King Darius wanted to buy me off (Y/N) to make an alliance with you. But of course, he/she/they couldn’t let that happen, now, could you?” He looked back up at me.

I shook my head. Playing along seemed like the best option right now. “N-no. No, I couldn’t.”

A small smile flashed across Lansa’s face. “So that’s why he/she is/they are here. To ensure Darius didn’t capture me and make a fool out of you.”

Alo looked up at me and pinched the triangular stone dangling from his chain of beads between his fingers. “Well, you have done me a great service, (Y/N).” He came closer, touching my shoulder. “Lower your weapons,” he ordered. The guards obeyed, standing at attention. Alo dug his finger into one of my (F/C) coloured scales. “Come. I’ve got so many questions to ask you.” He spun around, striding towards the doors into the castle.

I lowered my head to Lansa’s eye-level. “What does he mean?”

“let’s just say that Nòsh is a huge dragon nerd,” he whispered to me.

“Oh,” I said in understanding. I raised my head again and walked after King Alo Lansa, walking beside me. “So,” I started, once the guards and the king were out of hearing distance. “Why did you lie?”

Lansa smiled at me. “Because I don’t want to lose you either.”

Like I said, I got some fine treasure out of making a deal with Darius.

G1 Hoarder Revamp and the Mountain of Salt

Can we all just acknowledge how much of a total fuck up the new G1 ping system is? I feel bad because they obviously went through so much work and beta testing for this system but it’s absolutely garbage in practice. This isn’t meant as a huge roast (even though I do think the creators could do with getting knocked down a few pegs given how poorly they’ve treated people through this entire process, oops) but I hope they at least see this and see things that they can work on. Obviously, going to them and sharing this stuff in person isn’t possible since L from arcane is notorious for gossiping and overall not super trustworthy, so anon route we go. I’ll give credit where credit is due: they definitely tried to go on the right path and the coding is good in theory. The big issue here is that they tried to fix something that was not great but worked with something that is not great and barely works. Sure there are some good things about the new ping system: if it’s not busy it’s not longer than six or seven minutes to do all of it for a few dragons, which, compared to the previous method? Pretty good timing. Helps automatically tag some colorgroups without having people confused about if their dragon counts or not, and uh... probably something else. The cons far outweigh the pros though: -sheet can only be used one at a time: terrible in theory, terrible in practice, there’s no queue system either so you’re not even guaranteed to go next even if you’ve been waiting ages. This becomes a nightmare around any holiday, as we’ve seen around notn, since everyone flocks to the ping generator and then quickly abandons after seeing the mess there. This should have been something that they found a way to work with from the start, especially since the previous spreadsheet, despite how long it took to sift through if you were actually assed to do all the specifics, could still be used by multiple people. -userface issues: going into the spreadsheet and it may all just be blank, does this mean someone’s using it? Someone isn’t? If you go ahead and assume not you’re going to get warned that you overrode someone since they get the ID to your dragon, if you don’t assume then you end up waiting for ages like an idiot and someone else swoops up the opportunity. The loading bar on the side doesn’t help give that info either since it constantly reloads due to the poorly planned code. Where users have their cells selected also doesn’t help since that isn’t always accurate. There are many times where the loading bar isn’t seen going, there isn’t any visible text on the screen, no comment in the box, but it’s still in use. This isn’t viable for anyone, especially not people who don’t fully understand how the system works. If you’re going to make it for only one person’s use at a time, you need to ensure it’s easier to see what’s going on for everyone. -laggy as all get out: sure, I don’t have to go through 15 pages of different types of pings on the old G1 pinglist and shovel through all the duplicates and specifics list people, but having more than 13 dragons or even doing a bigger lair sale (or even just anything during notn) means you get to wait for the program to chug away for ages (as well as the easy chance for someone to just cut in halfway through a load and have you start all over again or wait) and hope that the three people behind you don’t get impatient or angry as you have to do three separate input sessions rather than massing them all together as you could with the previous spreadsheet. -poorly designed aesthetically: maybe this may sound petty to some, but the design of the system is pretty terrible in terms of layout and color choice. This isn’t to say it’s just ugly though; after speaking about it with people who aren’t neurotypical, have disordered thinking processes, and/or have generalized issues reading things (autism spectrum, dyslexia, semi-visually impaired, etc.) it’s pretty clear that the entire thing is not accessible whatsoever for anyone who can’t immediately decipher what anything is. Black text on bright red is not a good thing for most people beyond old MySpace edgies. If you, as someone without reading or comprehension difficulties, are having a difficult time focusing on it: maybe consider how difficult it’d be for anyone else. The way the rules or tutorial section is laid out also does not help in terms of accessibility! It’s clunky and hard to read, does not flow well, and doesn’t explain as thoroughly as you may think. If you’re someone who uses coded spreadsheets often? Yeah sure, it might be understood. If you’re not? Welp. Good luck kiddo. -very poor user help: this is on the mods or creators more than the spreadsheet itself. If someone has a problem, the first thing you should do is talk with them to find the difficulty and tackle it from there. I’ve seen, multiple times now, where either N (plague) or L (arcane) straight up tell people that they can’t help them and that they should just read the guide on the front page. Like sure, they read them, but something is tricky for them and they’re asking for help. They can read the rules and guide again but without outside help, guess what? Not gonna help them. If you just keep linking them the forum or telling them to read the first page it won’t actually help anyone! One of your jobs as the creators here is to help the community that you made it for, not just parrot that they need to read. Be better. Add that to a system which is not forgiving of any mistakes whatsoever and it becomes a terrible little cocktail. Also does not help that, despite their sugar attitude about having people test it in discord servers, the creators l and r/p (both arcane) don’t actually help people who need help using it. -wait times/queue: this ties in to an earlier point, but there’s no way to organize who goes next. Sure, it might sound strange, but when you have to wait ages to get access despite you being there ahead of anon llama/drama/dingdong/animal because they can all hop in ahead of you, it becomes frustrating. People don’t always type in that itty bitty box to say what they’re doing, and people easily erase it or write over it, or they just outright ignore it. Obviously not everyone is going to do that, but it’s way too easy for people who are greedy/entitled to step over those who are being polite and patient. -no quick ping options this is also kind of minor, but at least with the old spreadsheet you could just click in and say “okay, I just want to ping XXY general for this because I have a quick sale.” Guess what: nah. You have to go through the entire chugging process and queue and everything else just to get that snippet of information on who to ping. What once took maybe five clicks is now five minutes to thirty depending on how many people are using it. Wanna quick check if a dragon with XYZ colours you hatched is one that someone wants specifically? Nah, fuck you. You have to input all the data and wait instead of just doing what was once a super easy quick search. There is so much other shit wrong with this system and I’m honestly surprised N (plague) allowed them to do this. Sure, the old pinglist could have done with some updating, but that should have been done in the form of clearing redundant double pings, maybe a way to sort through specifics like ‘male only’ and mass copy names there. Quality of life things, not this just... total mess. I understand that L and R/P got it into their heads that they needed to fix it and that they wanted to take over the entire system themselves, but they should have kept their pride out of it for once. The sheet to input what dragons you want is also another entire nightmare. It’s frustrating to go through the google poll a dozen times to say exactly what colors/eyes/gender/pasta-shape/siesta-fiesta under the sun you want rather than have a quick way to input it by drop-downs or even just a text based option like the old one had. It’s so easy to forget what you put in or which one you want to put in this time, so easy to end up making mistakes that you don’t see, etc. It’s just not an effective system. It’s great in theory, and sure, it’s all sparkly and new, but it’s like admiring an aluminum trash can. Shiny and sparkly under the sun, still holding a whole lot of hot garbage though. I understand that some people may find it easier, and that’s great! I’ve used it for a few things and yeah, it’s okay, but I wish the old one was back given all the grief and frustration this one has caused. Obviously I’m not in the place to be like DO THIS OR DO THAT since I’m not the one making the sheet here, but I do feel like the people who use it have every right to give commentary and feedback where possible. Even moreso when the creators and team aren’t actually as welcoming as they try to appear to be. As much as it sucks, a lot of L and R/P’s (primarily L) false niceties have kind of come to the surface lately which makes this whole situation just that much more awkward. If people don’t feel like they can approach you because they know you’ll rip into them here or on the anon site immediately, maybe you shouldn’t be a main creator of something for the user base or a mod for a bigger group. Just some side-thought to all this other stuff. Big post, big rambles, I can’t bring myself to organise it though because I’m pretty fed up and tired. Take from this what you may, but basically fix your shit new G1 Hoarder peeps.

Video Games

YangYang x Gender Neutral Reader

Inspired by: My country is facing another lockdown and I never feel very good through those, so I wanted to cheer myself up (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

Summary: Quarantine has you and your boyfriend YangYang locked in together. But you know without a doubt that there is no other person, you would rather spend it with.

Genre: Fluff… just pointless, tooth-rotting fluff

Warnings: Mentions of explicit content

A/N: My first YangYaaaang, yaaay!! About time I write for my WayV bias <3 I had soo much fun making this moodboard, even though it was hella difficult matching all the colours, but I kinda like how it turned out <3

Also, first time writing in past tense haha… so, sorry if there´s some time-switching, I´m very used to writing in present :’D

Hope you enjoy this, love u so much! <3

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Ever since the first day, quarantine has you and YangYang chained to your boyfriend´s apartment. However, unlike most of the people you have heard off, the two of you seem to be of the rare kind that enjoys the withdrawn lifestyle of social distancing. Maybe, though it was just bound to be nice, since you got to spend that time together.

In the beginning, you had been anxious. Hearing about all the statistics of couples breaking up and divorces being signed, had gotten you worried about the same thing happening to the two of you. In the end, you realized that the you worked too well for that to happen. Your communication was good – when one needed space, the other would give it. You shared more common interests than you could count on both of your hands, always leaving you with something to do. And the sex, well… reoccuring enough for the two of you to never run out of passion.

One of your favourite pastime activities though, were video games. YangYang had a large collection of them, quite similar to the one you usually kept at your own place. Sometimes, you´d spend hours, wandering virtual realms together and chat about god and the world, while gathering magical items and battling rare bosses. He made you laugh, you made his heart flutter. A pair, bound to stick together through thick and thin.

“If you keep buying those dorritos we´ll have to up our workout-game.” You laughed, watching him from your spot on the floor. In his hands, he carried a bag of said dorritos and a bottle of water.

Shrugging, he settled down beside you and dumped the food in your lap, “I could do a few more crunchies, if it means I get to enjoy my favourite food. Besides, we already burn so many calories with other… activities.”

As he wiggled his eyebrows, you pushed his face away, unable to conceal your laughter, “Gross.”

“Not what you said last night.”

“Oh god, can you stop?” You squeezed out and he finally complied with a laugh. He knew how much embarrassment you could take, before you´d just roll into a ball and pretend you didn´t hear him. But, the opportunity to tease you, was just too good to pass up. Especially, when your reactions were always so oscar-worthy. “Alright, what will it be today, captain?”

He hummed, skimming through the several titles, “I´m feeling Halo, to be honest.”

“A classic.” You nodded, “Let´s go.”

As YangYang moved to slip the CD into the Xbox, you made work of the dorrito package, trying not to spread all its contents on the floor. Half-succeeding, you held out a chip to your boyfriend, as he returned to your side and he opened his mouth happily. For a good while, you spent your time ganging up on a poor soul you met in the online-mode.

“Y/N, I think I´m going through a crisis.” YangYang suddenly muttered into the silence, as he shot another enemy right in the head.

You raised a sceptical eyebrow at him, “A crisis, huh?”

“Yeah”, releasing a dramatic sigh, he adjusted to sit with his legs spread a little wider, “I feel like you´re just too far away. My heart is twisting in my chest.”

A snort left your nose, “Wow, didn´t know I lived with a drama queen.”

“That´s not true!” YangYang pouted, before grinning, “You knew what you signed up for. Now come here.”

There was little you could do to resist, once he pulled out the puppy dog eyes. You had always been weak for them, almost as much as for his smile. That slightly curled grin with slightly pointed teeth, which made him almost look like a kitten. Sighing, you shuffled, until your back was pressed against his chest and you could comfortably resume playing. It worked for a while, with your boyfriend´s chin against your head and soft puffs of air hitting your hair every now and then.

However, you had never been a very strong person, when it came to affection. His arms wrapped so tight around you, just so he could reach his controller with both hands, had you feel more and more greedy for the boy´s touch. Sometimes he called you insatiable, whether it be with sex or simple cuddling, yoou never seemed to get enough. You knew though, that he liked nothing more than to indulge you. That, whenever you asked for a bit of closure, he was happy, because he felt like he had done something right.

It was the exact reason why you didn´t hesitate to voice your wishes right away: “I´m having a crisis, too.”

“Ah yeah?” You could hear the little grin on his lips.

Humming, you paused the game and put down your controller. As you turned in his arms, to sit in his lap instead, he did the same. It was flustering, but mesmerizing as well, how his eyes seemed to be unable to leave you entirely. You cupped his jaw with both hands, a small smile playing with your lips. A wave of gratitude washed through you – gratitude, that he was the one sitting here, no one else.

“I feel like I´m showing withdrawal symptoms.”

YangYang lifted a brow at you, but his hands settled on your waist anyways, “Withdrawal symptoms? Are you in a sugar rush?”

“Not quite, but close.” You giggled at yourself, “I feel like I´ve been without a good kiss for too long.”

It wasn´t difficult to see the exact moment his face twisted into realization, “I see. That sounds like quite a tricky situation. Where the heck are we supposed to get you a quick fix now?”

Rolling your eyes, you shuffled a little closer, “Just kiss me, you doofus.”

When he leaned closer, hands on your waist pulling you in, you felt reminded of how lucky you were. How this could have been the worst time for you, but you were here, healthy, happy and with your arms full of this boy, who loved you. You could have agonized over all the days, still to come, but what good would that do? When you had YangYang in your arms, his lips chasing yours eagerly and his scent of warm baked goods wavering around you, what use was there in worrying?

You smiled into the kiss, eyes closed and revelling and you could feel him do the same.

-*- FIN -*-

The new Shadowhunter Academy (Fan Fic) - Chapter 1

In the mood for a bit of Shadowhunter Academy drama so there goes chap 1 of my new fic (it's part of my "To never being parted series" though it can be read as a standalone story).

Ao3 link here.

*****

This is how I die, Ash thought. He was surprised by how indifferent he was to the news. He had always imagined he would have more fighting in him.

If he were honest, it was not such a bad place to die. Green grass had started to grow again in the lands of Faerie, where there had only been wasteland and death before. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe Ash was exactly what he had been named after. Ash, the symbol of rebirth, his blood fertilizing the land and giving way to lush vegetation and the chirping of birds. Through his blurred vision, he could see Jace lying a few feet away, unconscious. He held on to the steady rise of his chest that told him he was still alive. But barely.

Ash coughed up blood in the already drenched soil. He tried to lift himself up, but the muscles in his arms were failing him and the slightest move equalled to excruciating pain. He felt as if all the bones in his body had been crushed into small pieces that were piercing through his organs.

He thought about the girl he had met in the weapons room, the girl in the drawing. Drusilla Blackthorn. There had been loneliness in her blue-green eyes, yet there had also been a fierce will to live despite everything. A hope beyond despair. You and I are the same, he told her in his mind. We witness the worst horrors, suffer the most intense grief, but keep our chins up and stand ready to fight to live another day. We do not give up.

Ash craned his neck sluggishly to get a better look at his opponent.

The new King of both Seelie and Unseelie Courts, a Herondale no less, who looked more like a Californian surfer boy with his tousled blond hair and unforgiving bright blue eyes, was standing before him, hands curled into fists against his hips, his white wings tipped with gold rustling behind him. He was glorious, an angel of death, and Ash idly wondered how someone so beautiful could be so cruel.

“Stand. Now. There is no fun in striking someone lying on the ground,” the King said, his blue eyes rolling in a very unkingly manner. Even his voice was not that of a monster. It was a nice, clear voice, that sounded like it belonged to a sweet boy. Ash knew, though, that he was anything but. He needed to distract him, to play for time.

“All these faeries that you have massacred,” Ash managed to utter through the blood in his throat. He flinched at the pain that the mere act of talking caused him. “And you call yourself their ruler… I don’t understand. Why this… bloodbath? What did they do to you?”

“What did they do to me? What did they do to me?” If the King’s face bore any expression at all, it would be pure hatred and contempt. “How about what did they do to my mother? And her parents, and their parents before that? Did they really think I would never find out, stay in the dark forever? Remain a blind and helpless mundane my whole life? I see them every single night in my dreams, you know… I am haunted by the cries and howls of my ancestors. Always running, always hiding, never allowed to rest, never allowed to live. No more. I crushed the faeries who stood in my way as if they were cockroaches under my shoe. If there was still such a thing as Shadowhunters, I would have them suffer the same fate, if not worse, for they have betrayed my bloodline just as much.”

As the Herondale King talked, Ash slowly moved his hand to clutch the folded paper inside the left pocket of his jacket. The psychopathic witch that had grown so fond of him – Annabel, the mere thought of her still sent shivers down his spine – had at least taught him one useful thing. How to get out of this hell hole.

He held on tight to the drawing in his bloody fingers. If he focused enough on creating an interdimensional Portal to her… Surely, he would go back to where he came from himself. The drawing had probably been made with material found in Thule, but the artist… the artist was from the other world. Maybe it could work. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance he and Jace had.

My blood, willingly given. He had lost enough blood as it was, but it had certainly not been willingly given. Trying to grab his sword, which was lying a few feet away, would draw too much attention. A deep paper cut could work. That’s how potent his blood was. He brought the paper to the palm of his hand and sliced through the skin, murmuring the incantation.

As the Portal started shimmering before him, Ash heaved a sigh of relief, causing a sting in his lungs. That was the first step. Now, how the hell would he find the strength to haul himself and Jace through it, without being stopped by the Faerie King?

“Wow, you will have to teach me how to do that,” the Herondale King said, showing for the first time a flicker of emotion. “I mean, I probably have enough power for that – Aren’t you like a cheap knockoff of me?”

Ash was spared to give an answer as the King whipped around at the sound of swords being drawn out behind him. The Riders of Mannan. There were only five of them left.

“You again?” The King rolled his eyes. “Ever thought of a retirement plan? Aren’t you like, thousands of years old?”

One of the Riders shrieked. “You killed two of our brothers. It has become personal. We will never acknowledge you as our new King. So that leaves us with only one option.”

“Yep, got it. You pick option B. Getting your decrepit asses kicked by me, myself and I.”

The Faerie King advanced with a casual stride on the five Riders, drawing two longswords that he immediately started twirling as if they were cheerleaders’ batons.

This was Ash’s chance.

He crawled to Jace, grabbing their two swords - Heosphorus and Phaesphorus - on his way. Pulling on a strength he didn’t know he still had, he finally managed to stand, ignoring the ache in his limbs – he had known torture and pain had become a familiar companion – and hauled Jace’s body up and they both stepped through the Portal, with only two swords and a folded bloodstained paper as their interdimensional trip’s luggage. He let himself be transported in between worlds, drained and already fainting from the strained effort.

When he came to, he was lying on a sand beach, the sun barely peeking out from the horizon, casting a reddish glow on the sea. He inhaled deeply the clean and salty air, like a treat to his lungs, so pure compared to the one in Thule. He turned his head to find Jace’s limp body a few feet away. If only he had been taught how to draw the Angel’s Runes his uncle had told him about. The ones that could heal the wounds and ease the pain.

He heard voices and started to drag Jace’s battered body behind a nearby rock, breathing heavily as he did. The fresh air and the sound of the soft push-pull of the ocean made him feel better already.

He peered around to see three figures approaching.

He instantly recognized the girl. Drusilla. She looked a little bit older than he remembered but she had the same thick and luscious dark brown hair and freckled milky skin. She was wearing her pyjamas, black fabric with a pattern of white skulls. She was laughing carelessly, throwing her head back, and it made Ash smile, his zygomatic muscles almost aching as they awakened from their deep slumber. They hadn’t been put to such use in a while. She was holding the hand of a younger boy with rumpled hair of the exact same colour. Their eyes shared the same singular summer-blue shade. Probably her little brother. He seemed to be around ten years old, but Ash wasn’t very good at guessing age.

The third person was a very tall boy, with hair as black as a crow’s feathers, walking along the water’s edge. Ash couldn’t see his face because he was looking away, toward the sea. There was something fragile, almost poetic, in the graceful curve of his neck and the delicate line of his jaw. Something hypnotising about the careful yet purposeful way he moved his long limbs. Ash almost felt disappointed he could not see the face of the person they belonged to.

“Tavvy!” Drusilla cried out as the younger boy released her hand to run to the edge of a tide pool.

He picked something in the water and held it up in triumph.

“Starfish,” he yelled, hopping up and down excitedly. “I have found a starfish!”

Tavvy ran, though not in the direction of his sister, but of the older dark-haired boy.

The tall boy held out his hand and the younger one put the starfish gingerly into the other’s palm.

“Pisaster ochraceus, also known as the purple or ochre sea star,” the mysterious boy said, after a single, swift glance at the starfish. He had a deep, raspy voice.

“It’s beautiful! Please! Please! Can I dry it and keep it in my bedroom at the Institute? I could have it framed, and maybe even painted by Jules!”

“It’s a keystone species that controls mussel populations. It was nearly wiped out by the sea star wasting syndrome. In other words… Waste of a perfectly good starfish,” the voice of the graceful boy caught at his last words and he trailed off, his head still turned toward the sea, almost as if he was no longer talking to Tavvy. He lifted his free hand absently to grasp a shiny object - a silver pendant? - resting on his chest.

The three Shadowhunters snapped their heads in the opposite direction from where Ash was hiding, when a fourth person called. A blond-haired girl – probably a Shadowhunter as well, though she had pointy ears - was coming down the beach wearing slippers, an apron tied around her slender body.

“Breakfast is ready! I have managed not to burn the whole stack of pancakes this time.”

Ash heard his stomach growl. How long had it been since he had last eaten? Probably days. But much sharper than the pain caused by hunger or even by the battle wounds, he felt longing… Longing for a normal life, in a normal happy family. What would he not give for carefree strolls on the beach in the dawn, surrounded by loved ones, followed by something as simple as a breakfast of – even burnt he didn’t mind – pancakes?

The landscape swirled and changed into the dark, dirty and moisty walls of a cell. He was so thirsty, so hungry, and so cold. Two Unseelie guards were staring at him through the bars, with a smirk on their narrow faces.

“We are here to bring you to your bedroom. Yes, you will get a bedroom. How fancy is that? The King just wanted to make sure you knew it was in your best interest to fully cooperate. From now on, and for as long as you behave, you will benefit from the most luxurious accommodation befitting to your royal lineage.” Ash – the younger, clueless version of him – found he did not care for a fancy room. He had known the most decadent living conditions and the worst. Knowing the full spectrum, he had realized nothing really mattered but a place to call home. Mom, where are you when I need you the most?

The door rattled and one of the guards came in.

“You have a pretty face, skinny boy,” he said, as he opened Ash’s bloody shackles. “When we will have cleaned you up, maybe you and I could have a little fun.”

Ash spat on the rude intruder.

The faerie was about to slap him when the other guard grabbed his wrist.

“Careful… He is the Seelie Queen’s son. You can’t take liberties with him as you can with other regular prisoners.”

“He may be of royal blood, but his father Sebastian Morgenstern died leaving us alone to bear the consequences of his mad plans, to suffer the Cold Peace. The traitor is the reason why the Fair Folk are treated as if they are less than nothing.”

A wave of pure hatred – that he had not felt at the time, having never met his father – woke Ash up from his dreams, his whole body drenched in sweat. He almost sighed in relief as he realized he was in his wide bedroom, in the house in the hollow hill.

There was a pain in his stomach, different from the one caused by hunger. He immediately ran to his bathroom and retched above the sink. There had been no time to run to the toilet. He opened the tap and splashed water over his face. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he noticed there were dark circles under his eyes and that his features, although smooth and ageless as all faeries’ were, bore the permanent mark of having seen too much horror, suffered too much pain, loneliness, and sorrow before he had even reached adulthood. He swiftly schooled them into the mask he wore in public. He had become good at that.

****

“Riders of Mannan, tremble!” Mina cried out as she burst into the kitchen and started running around the table on her little legs, brandishing her Cortana baby-sized wooden replica. Her dark hair was now long enough that she could wear them in two tiny braids. It was Kit’s job, and Mina loved to barge into his room at ungodly hours with a hairbrush to jump up and down on his bed until he had performed his daily task. So much for privacy.

“Oh no, here comes Emma Carstairs!” Kit raised an empty pan from the stove to use it as a shield. “Quick, run! Or she will end us all!”

“Nooooo, Kit-Kat” Mina paused to strike a dramatic pose and rolled her eyes. “You are not a Rider.”

“No? What am I today?” He asked, putting down the pan.

“My fiancéééé!”

“Ooooh.” Kit drew himself to his full height, putting on a very serious don’t-mess-with-mine-and-I-won’t-mess-with-you face and brushed his hand through his hair in a mock nervous gesture. “Beware Riders, I will strike you with my wits, if not my crossbow.”

“No. Not Julian. I have changed my mind. I want to marry Tiberius Blackthorn!” She said and shook both her hands in front of her the way she always did when she was very excited about something.

“Oh. Oh. Well don’t tell Julian that, I am not sure he will appreciate the swap.”

“Do Tiberius! Do Tiberius!” Mina exclaimed, hopping up and down. Kit knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. “Do him, please!” Mina whined.

“Sure, Min. I will imitate Tiberius but please stop shouting that,” Kit said, feeling heat rush up his entire face.

“Yeaaay! Do him!”

“SHHHHhhh,” Kit said, putting a finger on her pouty lips. “Understood, Min-Min. I will play Ty’s part.”

Their parents were in the room next door and though both knew that he and Ty were a thing now, Kit had obviously not gone into detail as to the physical part of their relationship. He expected that they would simply guess and leave it at that.

He had a vivid memory of the time he had been cornered to sit through the “sex talk.” Tessa and Jem had made some Earl Grey tea and scones for the occasion and had taken the opportunity during one of Mina’s naps, to go through the whole process of explaining to Kit that it was the most natural thing in the world and that he shouldn’t feel uncomfortable raising any questions he had on the subject. Kit had dutifully listened, his head bent and his ears red, slouched in the middle of the couch, fingers knotting and unknotting where they rested on his lap. As the awkward conversation had gone on and on, he had disappeared little by little into the plump cushions, wishing he could vanish entirely inside the furniture.

Jem had been the old-fashioned gentleman, talking about “mutual respect” and “the shared responsibility of contraception and adequate protection”, but had been clearly as red faced as Kit, while Tessa had been the modern mom, freely and animatedly speaking about “exploring one’s sexuality” and “ignoring peer pressure and imaginary standards”.

When Jem had started listing all the STDs he had encountered in his life as a Silent Brother, Kit had secretly hoped there was poison in the tea. Dropping dead in the middle of the living room would have made for an adequate diversion. Fortunately, Tessa had silenced Jem with a glare.

In the back of his mind, Kit had wondered if Ty had gone through the same ordeal. He had imagined scary-overprotective Julian discussing sexual intercourse and condoms and had suddenly been profoundly relieved that – where Kit was concerned – the task had befallen to Tessa and Jem.

Kit had to admit, they employed the same thoroughness and dedication in everything they taught him. With Jem, Kit had learnt how to fight, how to heal wounds, how to waltz and – though that part still required a lot of training to get over his bad habits – how to behave like a gentleman. Tessa had taught Kit how to drive, how to cook and how to uncover and harness his First Heir powers. Both his parents had given him history lessons and they were the reason why he now knew how to speak five languages. He had read more books since he had joined their home than throughout the rest of his previous life. While Johnny Rook had taught Kit how to pick locks and steal pockets, Tessa and Jem had taught him trust and boundless generosity.

Truth be told, they were the best parents he could ever have dreamt of. He had the best family he could ever dream of, he thought, watching Mina’s big dark eyes widening as her gaze caught the plate of homemade chocolate cookies.

“Oooh you baked cookies! Can I have one Kit-Kat? Pleeeeeease?” Thank God for her short attention span.

“You already had a croissant this morning, Mina. You can have a cookie tomorrow. Remember, us Shadowhunters must eat healthily.”

Mina raised her eyebrow at him, in a way that reminded him of his boyfriend. Kit slipped a cookie in her tiny fingers.

“One. And remember how generous I was when I am sent away to sugar-addicts rehab and I beg you for one last shot of candy for the road.”

Mina nodded. He loved the way she always acted as if she understood his ramblings.

“Kit?” Tessa called as she entered the kitchen, waving her phone. “It’s Jace. He tells me you’ve been dodging his calls.”

“I am not here,” Kit mouthed.

“He told me you would say that. So, he wants you to know he still has this picture of you from last Christmas and he will not hesitate to send it to a certain dark-haired Centurion if you don’t take the call.”

Kit shot out his hand, palm up, and Tessa handed over her phone.

“This is blackmail.” Kit tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he swept the plate of cookies away from sight.

“Never said I was above blackmail. Just make sure it’ll work if you are ever to use it.”

“Is it another one of your cardinal rules and guidelines to being a proper Herondale? I am pretty sure half of them are made up.”

“They’re not.”

“They are,” Tessa mouthed, grimacing, as she whisked Mina away from the kitchen.

“So, here’s the thing. I usually act as a guest lecturer at the Academy, you know, for basic stuff. Learning how to jump and fall properly, balance in swordfight, choice of weapon… I was scheduled for next week, but Clary decided to plan her art gallery opening at the same time. So, I was looking for the best person to fill my shoes and of course immediately thought… who else than Kit?”

“Liar. I know you asked Emma first. What’s her excuse?”

“She sprained her ankle during training two days ago.”

“She posted a video of herself dancing in a nightclub with Cristina and Mark. That was yesterday.”

“This girl sure knows how to put on a brave face.”

“She was doing backflips in front of a cheering crowd.”

“Like I said, brave face. So, you’re in?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“Not really, but I thought it would be nicer if I asked.”

“Whatever.” Kit grumbled.

“Great. You won’t regret it. I will even buy you dinner in Manhattan while you’re in New York. Fancy restaurant with amazing desserts.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Jace Herondale?”

“Just lie down and let me do the rest.”

“WHAT?”

“Sorry, not talking to you. I’m in the middle of a training session. We’re stretching. Have you trained this morning?”

“It’s 2 PM here, Jace. I’m on my break. I already trained for six hours, starting at the crack of dawn.”

“You put us all to shame.”

“So, I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

“I was not finished.”

“Raziel, what else is there?”

“The Scholomance is sending a Centurion to represent them and provide a two-days training course for the Academy’s senior students who wish to apply to join them after they graduate.”

“Oh,” Kit said, with a familiar flutter around his stomach. “Do you…” He swallowed. “Do they already know who they will send?”

“Probably that Joshi guy. But it’s not set in stone. Jia Penhallow told me they have been trying to convince their best Centurion to go for months now, but he keeps saying no.”

“Oh, so he gets to say no.”

“I told her Herondales can’t resist a challenge...”

“You didn’t.”

“… and that I had a secret weapon to convince him to go this time.”

“You mean me.”

“Use your body!”

“WHAT?”

“Not talking to you, sorry. Beatriz, use your whole body’s strength, not just the muscles in your arms!”

“Thank the Angel.”

“What was I saying?”

“You were using me to try to convince Tiberius Blackthorn – who absolutely loathes talking in public, by the way – to give a two-days training course at the Academy for Scholomance applicants. Jace, I don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t want him to feel obligated in any way, just because…”

“… just because you let him play with your sword?” Jace offered.

“God, Jace. I am going to pretend you never said that.”

“Make us proud.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you, too. Gotta go. Catch up later.”

“Jace,” Kit groaned in frustration, but Jace had already hung up.

Tagging @gabtapia <3

"They knock on your apartment door instead of your neighbor’s." For kksayu or sorayam c:

Cara, dear <3 Thank you for sending something!!

50 Meet cutes - send me some to get my mind of things!!

A day off, certainly not something Sayuri got every day with an incredibly annoying father who at any opportunity told her how harder work would lead to better opportunities in life (but not too many opportunities! because first and foremost, she was to be a mother someday). But today she was free, all alone in her little one room apartment, phone off, head off, Laptop and Netflix on her lap. She hadn't even bothered to put on real clothes besides sweatpants and a sweater that read "Girlboss" (a sarcastic gift from her friend Shinra). She wasn't going out tonight and certainly nobody was coming in.

Munching on the biggest bag of already popped popcorn she could find in the store, she focused on the newest season of her favourite trash tv series, the drama between Angie and Shane just heating up into spicy level, when it knocked on the door. Sayuri hit the spacebar and scratched her ear. She hadn't ordered anything, she wasn't expecting anyone. Probably just someone who was trying to sell her something. She hit the spacebar again and returned to Shane's yelling.

Another knock. Whoever was trying to sell something, they sure were persistent. Sayuri shifted a little from underneath her Laptop to get to the door. It knocked again. Jesus, what a rude person, clearly she wasn't home. Couldn't they just move on. She leaned forward to look through the spy hole in the door when the person in front of it suddenly stopped his knocking and spoke up instead. "Obito, it's me. Don't act like you don't know im here." She said nothing, frozen in place with one hand on the door. "Let me in," the male voice from outside whined. "I get it, I'm sorry you're broken up over Rin, but you could at least open the door for me. I didn't- didn't mean to get in the way of you two."

Sayuri opened the door slowly to the outside, leaving the man scrambling to shuffle back to give it space. He was tall, taller than her, hair coloured in a white silvery mix that she'd never seen on a man before. He wore a white surgeon style face mask over his mouth and nose, but what immediately caught her eye was the scar across his left one. As if he'd been sliced open from his eyebrow to his cheek. "Obito Uchiha..", she said and pointed away, "..lives one apartment down."

He blinked over her, gaze falling from her unmade hair to her baggy pants to the shirt and Sayuri felt red when she clearly heard him mouth "Girlboss". "Oh, apologies" he said and stepped back a little, swaying on one foot. "I guess I must have misremembered." Sayuri nodded mechanically, stunned at the way he looked. He was conventionally beautiful, stunning features and not bulky but broad shoulders. If only she'd looked a bit better. "Thats alright", she said equally as mechanically, trying to keep it together. "All though its not nice to go between him and his girlfriend."

"I- It does not matter" he looked away from Sayuri's face, now embarrassed himself and the emotion looked good on him too. "Anyway," he coughed a little "Sorry for disturbing you with..." He raised his eyebrows. "I was just ... watching netflix", she said. He nodded, a little amused "And eating popcorn I guess" To demonstrate, he picked a popcorn off that was stuck to Sayuri's sweater. He laughed. She wanted to die.

"A-at least I can keep two different numbers apart" she mocked, masking her own embarrassment. "Idiot." He raised his brows again and she could see his tongue move over his lips under his mask. "Well I know how to eat something as easy as popcorn without dirtying myself at least." He picked up another stuck popcorn from her sweater. "Idiot" he copied her and ate it. She could feel a new heat in her face, so unrelated to embarrassment.

"So what? You are the idiot, idiot", Sayuri was scrambling for things to say, nothing to mock him for on her mind quick enough. He laughed again, the sound rumbling at her core. "Fine, this idiot will go now. It was nice to meet you, uh-" he looked at her doorsign, " Sayuri, also Uchiha?" She nodded. "Related?" She shook her head. "Interesting" the man winked at her. "Anyway, see you around maybe." She waved like a robot and saw him walk over to the next door. Quickly she went inside to slam the door behind her, heart hammering against her chest.

She had forgotten to ask him for his name.

Geraskier prompt 💜🥰

(5+1) 5 times Geralt showed Jaskier he loves him +1 time he actually said it out loud (geraskier-trashh)

thank you so much for the prompt, i hope you enjoy! 💕

i.

If Jaskier was in the mood of reciting poetry right now, he would definitely say something about how the soles of his boots had become one with the ground to the point he sometimes wondered if he actually wore shoes. They had been walking all day, barely stopping for ten minutes before they set off again. He dared not speak, he knew they had to reach the next town without any delay, they were really out of supplies now and Geralt wouldn't put up with another night under the stars just because he couldn't move his feet. Well, it was not just because. But he knew better than to whine for the hundredth time that day, realizing he was wasting his saliva.

That did not stop him from grunting though. And if he had to be honest, he didn't grunt to get on Geralt's nerves, although he knew he had succeeded at that with flying colours. But he was tired. Really tired.

At least Geralt was walking beside him. At least. Otherwise he would collapse just by looking at him resting on Roach's back while he was dragging his feet on the ground.

The sun had almost set.

"Are we there yet?" That was the question he concluded to after another choir of grunts and sighs accompanied by a lively performance of stumbling every five minutes. When Geralt didn't answer he took the chance to sigh once more, for the drama of it all.

And then Geralt stopped. Turned at him, and Jaskier knew perfectly well that look of utter indignation. And waited to be sweared at, smiling to himself. Only that Geralt's expression wasn't that of a man ready to swear.

"Get on Roach."

Jaskier was persuaded he heard wrong and didn't bother to move an inch. But then Geralt pushed him forward with a sigh that was almost fond. "Go on."

"Um... Are you–"

"Last chance."

He'd be a fool to miss it. So he climbed Roach as the mare snorted and wiggled her tail and he stroked her neck with an endearment. They went on. He glanced at Geralt. Didn't wait to receive a glance in return though. He just smiled.

Geralt didn't look back. "Don't get asleep up there," he said, even though he didn't mean it, and when he heard a whispered *thank you* that was almost lost with the wind, he hummed.

ii.

"You're a fucking idiot."

"Why, thank you." Jaskier pouted and hissed silently as Geralt cleaned the blood off his bruised cheek with a wet cloth. He knew he had no right to complain now, particularly when Geralt was rather gentle with his movements, albeit the annoyance in his eyes. Yet he would burst if he didn't say anything. "You're not less of an idiot yourself." Geralt opened his eyes wide and stareed at him, making it really hard for him to hold back his laughter. "Excuse me, dear witcher," he snorted, "were you not the one who said you didn't care about what sort of trouble I got myself in from now on? You were, yes, yes, you were. So you had no business dragging me from the fight, as you have no business tending to my cheek right now. Right?"

"Shut up, Jaskier." Geralt pressed the cloth on the bard's cheek ever so slightly, just to receive another his and Jaskier getting his tongue out at him. He hid a smile. "You'd be beaten up in an alley had I not been there."

"Aww, you sweet soul," Jaskier chuckled and had no intention of regretting it although the witcher glared at him. He squinted in thought for a moment, then grinned. "Ohh, I see."

Geralt grimaced. "You see, huh?"

"Yes, I see. You don't want me to get beaten up, is that right? You don't like it, no matter how you tease about it. I know now. You wouldn't let anyone hurt me, Geralt. You love me too much to do that. You would never."

Geralt halted for a second, his hand hovering above Jaskier's cheek. Thought of raising his look but he glanced to the side instead, swallowed. Then went on cleaning the last of the blood.

No sound was heard for a couple of minutes. Paradoxically. He finished applying a salve on the bard's cheek and stood up without turning to look at him.

The air felt a bit heavy.

"Geralt." Jaskier didn't wait for the witcher to answer and the hum he received almost made him choke on his words. "You wouldn't, would you?"

He saw Geralt freezing for a moment, then his breath hitched. He turned around and Jaskier would lie if he said he had seen his eyes soft like that before. Geralt shook his head lightly. "No, I wouldn't."

I love you too much for that.

He stayed silent. The grin he saw on Jaskier's face was enough.

iii.

Geralt returned to the camp to see Jaskier's head hidden in the saddlebags, cursing in a language he wasn't entirely sure he'd heard before. The bard revealed himself with an exasperated grunt.

"I can't find my pen," he said even though Geralt didn't ask and kept on searching inside the bag. "It has to be here, I put it here! It can't just be lost! What, did it pop out legs? No, it fucking didn't, of course it didn't, so where the fuck – oh, what's this?"

Geralt had barely managed to make out what Jaskier was holding in the firelight and his heart flutttered when he understood. "Not that!" He saw Jaskier hesitating, his eyes darkening before he nodded and went to put the little box he was holding back in the bag. Geralt snorted. "No, keep it, it's–" He paused, thought about it for the millionth time since he'd bought it and tried to speak. Not that he would succeed anyway. "I bought it... I-I thought you'd like it."

Jaskier frowned in confusion for a couple of seconds before he understood and his face lit up like the sun. "Oh, for... me?" Geralt nodded. He could watch him smiling like that forever. Jaskier opened the box and gasped. "Oh, Geralt."

He took the ring in his hands, stroked his thumb over it. It was silver, carved with flowers on the top. His cheeks were burning. Probably his eyes too. "Geralt, it's beautiful." He looked up at the witcher and saw him smiling faintly, and his heart singed with love. "Thank you so much, dear." He slipped the ring on his finger, stared at it. Felt Geralt approaching.

"It suits you."

He looked up, met his eyes. Their stares were locked for a second. Then Geralt snorted and glanced at the ground, taking some steps back. Jaskier didn't speak. Only closed his eyes.

iv.

The sound of whimpers made Geralt open his eyes and huffing as he realized it was still night. He stayed still for some moments, heard the whimpers coming from behind his back and turned around. Sleep abandoned him entirely as he saw Jaskier's shoulders shaking, his face hidden inside his hands. He was taking deep breaths that didn't manage to stable the whining escaping his lips. Geralt sat on the bedroll and gently placed his hand on the bard's shoulder. "Jaskier."

Jaskier jerked in surprise and his head whipped to the side just to find Geralt looking at him with a deep frown. Suddenly, he felt worse than before. "Fuck, I woke you, I'm sorry," he panted and ran his hands through his hair, heaving a long sigh and closing his eyes.

Geralt hummed and came closer. "It's fine. What's going on?" Jaskier glanced at him behind his lashes and he discerned unshed tears hanging on their edges. A sudden desire to kiss them dry overwhelmed him and he swallowed hard.

"Nothing, just a nightmare." Jaskier wiped his eyes on his own and cleared his throat. "I'll go to sleep again and it'll vanish." A fake smile curved his lips. Geralt felt his heart aching. The way Jaskier's hands trembled on his knees made it hard to resist the urge to hold them.

Still, as Jaskier laid down without speaking and he saw his shoulders still shaking under the blanket, he knew he'd be damned if he went back to sleep. So he dragged his bedroll closer and wrapped his hand around the bard, holding him tight on his chest until the trembling stopped and Jaskier breathed a sleepy hum and Geralt felt warmth flooding his body. And even if after some time he leaned to press a kiss on Jaskier's head, no one would ever know. And he hoped Jaskier was too exhausted to feel it.

And Jaskier smiled.

v.

"I'm going to win and you can bet to that! Those people are amateurs, can't even compose a proper rhyme. It's too easy."

Geralt shook his head. "Better keep your mouth shut in front of them if that's the only thing you're gonna say for the next days."

Jaskier huffed and strummed his lute, raised his head proudly. "Please, what are they gonna do? Sing me to death? There are barely two or three worthy opponents."

The walls of Novigrad showed up before them. Geralt peered at them before turning to the bard, just to see him wearing the same expression of slight hesitation he didn't dare to make visible. Jaskier lowered his eyes, then looked at him, bitting his lip. "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can," he tilted his head with a smile, "I can buy as as much ale as you want with the money of the prize, we'll... have a celebration."

Geralt would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted, staring into begging blue eyes. But he shook his head. "There's a noonwraith in the next town. I can't stay." The darkening of Jaskier's face made his heart ache. "We can celebrate after I'm done," he rushed to say and really hoped he didn't sound too desperate. Jaskier's wide grin erased his fear.

"You're right!" He shifted the lute in his hands and took some steps, waving his hand at the witcher. "I'll see you then, Geralt." Then turned to leave.

Geralt clenched his fists, sniffed. He raised his look. "Jaskier." The bard looked back, eyebrows raised and eyes gleaming. Geralt gazed at him. Oh, how he loved. How he loved him. "Take care."

Jaskier smirked, stared at him for some moments and nodded. Then turned around again.

vi.

Geralt thought it was a good time.

He had put way much thought into it to reach to a conclusion. Thought that had kept him going for quite long, thought that gave him the illusion of impermanence. He was refuted though by his own self, every time his look flied to the man standing beside him to always find him there, with a speech ready on his lips and a sparkling light flowing from his eyes. Annoying, he would once say. Still said. But not just.

It was simple. Ever so simple, so that he wondered what held him back previously. This time he didn't think about it. Maybe that's what made the difference. He didn't think. Only spoke what he saw.

"Jaskier." The bard was sitting beside him on the log, strumming soft melodies and working out rhymes. He raised his head and met Geralt's look. Geralt tilted his head, observed him. The way his eyebrows raised in question, the way his lips curved into a curious smile.

Jaskier waited, not long though, as the shade he discerned in Geralt's eyes wasn't one of a starting conversation. It was calm and gentle, almost loving. He shook his head. "What?"

Geralt frowned, then bit his lip, as if making a last moment's decision. And when he made it, he spoke. "I love you."

He realised that no matter how many years he knew Jaskier, the expressions that passed from his face at once were too difficult to decipher. Yet Jaskier didn't seem surprised. Only he seemed happy, happier than before as he chuckled softly and placed the lute beside him without turning away. "I love you too, Geralt."

Oh, no. That was wrong. He can't have understood...

Geralt huffed shaking his head. "No, it's not... I mean–"

"Geralt." Jaskier came closer and took the witcher's face inside his hands. "I love you too."

Oh.

It was simple. Ever so simple.

So Geralt simply leaned and pressed their lips together just enough to feel Jaskier's breath warming his face. A simple touch. And then Jaskier went deeper into the kiss and Geralt couldn't believe how familiar loving Jaskier felt, as if every time he'd silently said I love you, he proceeded to be as loud about it as he could.

So it was simple. He had loved Jaskier before. He would love him now too. Not silently, though.

Now he would love him out loud.

~

send me a prompt and i'll write you a fic ✨

Which cdramas would you rate as having the best/most accurate costumes you have ever seen? And are also historically accurate in terms of culture and history?

We always dance around answering this question, because it is impossible (for us) to answer. For two reasons.

1) There is no such thing as historical accuracy in dramas

You can never know everything that is needed to know about how people lived, dressed, styled their hair etc. in ye olden times unless you are a time traveller who has actually lived in those times. Historical records, extant garments, paintings, drawings, statues etc. can give you an idea of what people dressed like/lived like at the time, but historical records are fickle. They do not necessarily reflect the lives of everyone in society and often can be imperfectly preserved, leading to gaps in the knowledge we can have today. Because of this, any dramas that claim to be 100% historically accurate in terms of their costume/make up/whatever is lying because that is impossible.

What dramas can do, however, is do extensive research on the cuts and materials of clothes/jewellery/make up people used at the time and try their best to recreate them with the materials available to us now. Even then, dramas, for the sake of aesthetics, will often take creative liberties, for example using chemical dyes that make clothes in colours that was probably very hard/impossible to get, or not available to that person in that social class, at that time.  

All this is to say, I personally don’t usually scrutinise dramas for “historical accuracy” in their costumes, unless the drama is so bad that I can’t concentrate on the story and that’s what I turn to nitpicking to give myself a reason to keep watching. At the same time, I will forgive A LOT of costuming sins if the drama keeps me engaged with its story. Examples of this include Oh My General with its OBNOXIOUS use of colours and The Mischievous Princess with I don’t even know what to call this travesty they call costuming Ming dynasty.

However, this does not mean that dramas can’t try to be historically accurate, of course. To me, dramas that succeed in this area makes it clear that they have done research and consulted extant garments/historical sources to make their costumes look like it could reasonably have existed in the time the story it is set in.

I guess I will talk about Ruyi and Yanxi because I just know someone will ask us about it again eventually, despite the fact that we have sort of tried to avoid answering the question of whether Ruyi or Yanxi is more historically accurate the last time we were asked.

Here’s our very inexpert, very limited opinion, based on extremely limited research, on this question: both Ruyi and Yanxi clearly consulted extant garments/accessories of the Qing dynasty, and tried to recreate them in different ways.

There is evidence that Ruyi based many of their costumes on extant garments. We have a post about it, even though we do strongly suspect these extant garments were from the wrong time, i.e. they are late Qing circa 19th century, purely because they still exist at all, rather than the early Qing period of Qianlong. Yanxi also based its costuming on extant historical artifacts, including the use of the yunjian collar and the velvet flower hair accessories, which can be seen in paintings of women from around that time.

And then there is this headdress which Er Qing wears to her wedding, which has photographic evidence that it existed, but then the time of photography is clearly not the time of Qianlong.

However, the point we’re trying to make is that, because the Qing dynasty stretched 300 years, it is highly likely that both of these dramas did their research, then cherry picked the aspects of clothes and hair from different times of the Qing dynasty that suited their drama’s aesthetics. Does that make them historically inaccurate? Well, that depends on what level of accuracy you are after. But realistically, to expect them all to dress like it was really Qianlong’s time is likely almost impossible, not to mention would require the costumes to change, as both dramas spanned like 30 years.

Also, even when you can tell the drama did consult extant garments and artifacts, they can still fail in the making of the costume. Case in point, Danshu’s pheasant robe is very polyester and has printed “embroidery”, even though it was set in the actual Song dynasty when they would have worn this garment. 

Compare that to Royal Nirvana, which was set in a fictional dynasty (based on Song), but managed to pull a pheasant robe that looked a thousand times better because it was actually embroidered.

Here’s a more important reason why we often don’t want to answer questions about what dramas are historically accurate:

2) We don’t know.  

Can I just stress again that we are not historians of Chinese period clothing, history, anything? We’re not even Chinese and can’t even read Chinese. Any random “knowledge” we put on here is result of years of accumulation from watching dramas (so take everything we say with a fistful of salt) and yes, sometimes research, but in the sense of we google things. We also have to translate things on google translate, which admittedly is a little better these days especially from Chinese to Vietnamese, but still highly inaccurate sometimes. Sometimes we have sources that has been translated into Vietnamese or English, but whether that’s accurate is dependent on whether the source is accurate and whether the translation is accurate. tl;dr: don’t believe everything we say and don’t look to us for…you know, authority.

And on that note, regarding your other asks, unfortunately we don’t think we can answer them, simply because if you haven’t found the answer you want by Googling, it’s very unlikely that we can do better. Our series of post on Qing dynasty costumes exists because the popularity of Legend of Ruyi meant that this information was available in Vietnamese, and we just did a couple of steps to make sure the information was reasonably believable by looking up the Chinese sources and putting them through translation bots. We would not have been able to do all of this research from scratch. 

ALL THAT BEING SAID, here’s some links of relevant posts on @ziseviolets tumblr, which maybe I should just have directed you there from the beginning:

Hanfu in television dramas

Recs for historically/stylistically accurate Chinese drama

- h

TINSITOGS, a retrospective (happy birthday)

(yes I’m like two days too late I know I’m sorry) 

Why hello followers and ass class fandom, nice to see you there. I’m sure MOST people know about this, but in case you don’t, hi. On AO3 I’m better known as livixbobbiex, writer of maybe one of the most infamous Assassination Classroom fics. 

Which I mean like, if you haven’t read it yet you totally should it’s fanlore at this point I promise- 

Shameless plug that I don’t need aside, I felt that, on its first birthday since actual completion, I just wanted to share some things about it. Some tit bits about writing it, fun facts, maybe even some author advice TM. I appreciate that it’ll be super annoying if I do that in the tags, though, so that’ll all be under the cut. If you don’t want to read the whole post, then no matter what, thanks for the support in general! 

I also want to take the opportunity to announce that I’ve reopened my discord, so if you want to talk about my fics with me (and others), you’re more than welcome to join! (the link is here) 

The origin story 

I’ve stated this many times, I think, but TINSITOGS was never supposed to be a serious story. Taking you back, quite a long time, it actually started in a facebook DM with a friend. We used to come up with “head canons” with each other, which were basically just very condensed fanfiction plots over a multitude of text messages. I believe I was trying to cheer her up, and I tried to come up with some kind of plot line. 

At the time, I was fairly fresh to the Ass Class fandom, and I was joking about how there were no teen pregnancy melodrama fanfictions. It wasn’t that I wanted one, I just thought it was strange for a school centric anime with a bunch of ships to NOT have one. And, back then, I only really cared about karmagisa. So I just decided ‘right it’s happening’. The reason I decided to make it ABO was due to ‘it making sense’. Fun fact: it was almost written as AFAB trans Nagisa, but I decided against it as I didn’t rate my ability to handle it well back then. Looking back on it, I’m glad I made that decision. 

Over around two months, writing out the plot of this story took over my life a little bit. I had no idea where I was going with it, but I was having so much fun with the drama that I decided that Karma and Nagisa shouldn’t get together soon at all, and I had a lot of fun teasing my friend with the ‘will they won’t they’. It was only when I got bored that I invented this intense drama plotline to finish it all off. 

That period of time was a lot of fun. And whilst that friendship didn’t end well, I still have a lot to thank her for. She chose Daichi’s name because I had no idea, and she wanted to annoy me because I didn’t like Haikyuu. When I couldn’t decide on his hair colour, the purple was her suggestion because ‘why logic?’ Daichi speaking Korean was because of how much she liked Kpop. She even helped me choose the title of the actual fic, so there’s a lot you can thank her for, honestly. 

After I finished that story, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Whenever I daydreamed, I used to think about that damn Daichi Akabane, and how much I wanted to tell his story. I’d even come up with extra stuff to fill in a lot of the gaps, and developed his character in my mind. I decided that I was really desperate to write it down. Usually that worked when I had an idea I wanted to work through. 

I wrote the first chapter in late 2017, and then the next two as well. I just, kept going, and realised that I could go further still. TINSITOGS was never something that was supposed to be shared, but I decided I may as well. After all, that fated ‘teen pregnancy drama’ fic still didn’t exist, and I thought it would be funny to make it happen. 

Yes, as I’ve stated publicly a few times, TINSITOGS was a crack fic. If I wanted attention from it, it was infamy. We even joked about me cursing the fandom if it ever became the most popular fic (whoops?). What I wasn’t expecting was a bunch of people, in a fandom where at the time there were NO ongoing karmagisa fics and it was pretty dead, to really seem to enjoy it. It was enough to have me keep writing it, at least. I still don’t know at what point I actually started taking it seriously, but somehow I did, and the rest is history? 

The reception 

In my wildest dreams, I never thought that I would be the author of one of the most popular fics in the fandom. To this day, the amount of views TINSITOGS has is insanity to me. For the record, across all platforms it’s on today it has 238,000, which is literally a number I can’t even visualise anymore. Almost quarter of a MILLION. To this day on AO3, it’s the most viewed Ass Class fic that’s an ACTUAL ass class fic (the others are multi fandom compilations). So yeah, I achieved the original goal, I guess? 

Now you might be wondering, “omg the karmagisa fandom is fujoshi trash”. And, considering the origins, it is kind of funny. The thing is, though, TINSITOGS was written at incredibly good time. It was written when there were, essentially, very few long form Karma/Nagisa stories. If any other fics did get posted on occasion, they were usually just oneshots. I was also, at that point, writing very fast. A symptom of ADHD is becoming obsessively productive over certain things. Since I was able to get a 3k chapter out every few days/once a week, TINSITOGS was consistently bumped to the top of AO3′s default view. And some of those first few chapters were altered canon, and transcribing the canon dialogue didn’t take very long. The more views it got, the more people would read it out of sheer curiosity. 

I think it also helps that, at least after it started getting some positive feedback (which was honestly after the pre written chapters), I purposely tried to make it ‘not terrible’. I mean, I personally think the first chapter is pretty weak and if it wasn’t somewhat iconic to a lot of people I’d rewrite it. But in general, I purposely tried to make the world of ABO my own, to make it more accessible to those who don’t like that genre, and stay away from the inherently grosser stuff as much as possible. I genuinely do get comments about how I introduced people to the genre as a whole, still not sure if that’s a GOOD thing but hey, it happened. 

TINSITOGS turned into a lot more than just a joke. It turned into my favourite hobby. It turned into a research project (honestly, you would not believe the amount of mummy vlogs and legit scientific articles about child development I consumed). It turned into something that, at least I believe, was widely loved. 

Meaning 

I think it might be wrong to say that I don’t have AN idea of when I started to take the fic super seriously. For me, it was around the time someone commented something along the lines of saying my writing meant a lot to them, that they’d spent all night reading it and had been unable to put it down. 

Not to get too dark here, but I do have a past in writing a very long, somewhat popular fic (it’s still on my fanfic net profile if anyone’s interested, but I don’t recommend it). However, in the latter part of my teenage years, the depression struck. Writing was the love of my life, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore. Maybe I’d be able to muster an idea or even a chapter at the best points of that, but I’d never completely finished any story. Starting to write again was a huge step in my recovery, and one of the reasons I convinced myself that life was worth it was being able to impact someone’s life somehow. Even to this day, I still remember the fics I read when I was, like, thirteen. How much I still remember them, and how much they meant to be at the time. I wanted to be that writer for someone else. To be honest, it was actually Yuri!!! On Ice that got me out of the super bad, but I still never wrote anything of real consequence. TINSITOGS was the first time in a long time I actually committed to something. 

And, to be completely honest, there were a lot of times I was tired of it, and wanted to just quit. But, the thing was, I felt like people depended on me in a way. I got so many comments that were just FILLED with support, telling me how much they looked forward to every update. It wasn’t just empty words, either, a lot of the times these comments would be super engaged with the actual writing. I can’t even describe just how much they meant to me, how much I would look forward to reading everyone’s opinions. And then discord happened, which was a lot of fun. 

TINSITOGS went a lot further than I ever thought it would. There were comments, discussions, fan art, fan FIC (which is honestly incredible to me). Someone even added it to TV Tropes, at one point. Not to mention the Cards Against Humanity deck and quiz It makes me so unbelievably happy that I could inspire that much creativity, but it’s a two way street. It was all of that which inspired me to write, too. 

Writing 

The only real goal I actually had was aiming for around 3000 words per chapter. I had a whole facebook log of plot points as planning, and I was mostly just trying to expand on them into prose. I honestly thought that, at its completion, the entire fic would be around 100k words, if that. Not, at one point, being literally the longest ass class fic on AO3. 

There are a lot of aspects that were directly adapted from the original messages, and I tried to stay faithful to it more so at first, even if I later removed some of the pure crack. But the style was also vaguely similar, with the story being told mostly from Nagisa’s perspective with swaps to Karma when it made sense. All the main plot beats, too, are pretty much identical. The plus to this was I was able to add a lot of really fun foreshadowing, and I feel like it’s a fun reread because of it. 

Honestly though, if there’s a demand to release those OG message logs, I will. Mostly because it’s kind of funny, and interesting to see. Isogai and Nagisa were engaged at one point, even. 

Obviously, it changed somewhat. 3000 was the minimum length, and the time to completion was whenever it felt right. One of my big concerns was about pacing, so it took a lot more fleshing out and maybe ‘filler’ content for some of the main arcs to work. 

There’s parts of TINSITOGS I don’t think aren’t written that well, and some that I’m still super proud of. I think you can definitely tell there’s a gradual shift in style, and I get a lot more comfortable with writing them as characters as it goes along. To be honest, my pride for the fic overall is what it represents. 

It is funny to think about the places it got written in, though. I started it when I worked at McDonalds with no life direction, then it went through my first year of university with me. It’s been written in at least four countries. Aeroplanes, night clubs, long haul buses, a train through the Japanese southern coastline. Even the start of covid. TINSITOGS managed to see a lot. I even turned a scene in (the boat scene during the India chapter with altered names) to my university as a legitimate assignment. 

There were also a few messages I wanted to achieve, once I realised I had the platform to put them across. One of them was, obviously, ‘use protection kids’. It was important to me that I didn’t glamorise it too much, and I think that came across. I also wanted to dispute some of the issues with ABO, and subvert the consent issues as much as I could. An arc I really ‘liked’ writing was how abuse doesn’t always look the same way, and that it can be a drawn out change in behaviour. How the most important part of ‘being a good parent’ isn’t perfection, but genuinely loving and doing the best you can for your kid. How love doesn’t solve everything, and effective communication can take a very long time to learn and build a functional relationship. I mean, there definitely was a lot I tried to put in, and you’re free to interpret it all how you want. But, I like to think some people learnt some of these things, at least. 

Daichi 

Honestly, Daichi developed almost of his own free will. I had a good idea of his appearance, and that he was smart. Writing him from birth until around nine years old (older if you read the sequel fic) pretty much allowed that fluidity. It was really fun to explore a nature vs nurture development, and let his own characteristics speak for themselves. 

He’ll always have a special place in my heart. 

This is the first image I ever made. When I was trying to figure out what Daichi looked like, I honestly just edited Karma’s hair (pretty well, actually? I’m impressed with my past skill). That’s where the ‘he looks just like Karma’ meme kind of came from. 

This was the first image I actually created of Daichi. I THINK it was on rinmaru games mega anime creator or something, but it’s literally not available on the internet anymore as far as I can tell, so I can’t double check. This was in the pre-piccrew days. His eyes are closed because they didn’t have the right tone of goldish/silver.  

His sister, Kaguya, didn’t even exist originally, even though I decided on that ending pretty early on. Actually, she was going to be called ‘Irina’ due to some hijinks. Initially, when Karma found out about Irina’s pregnancy, she was going to get super emotional and mad at him and basically force him to name his first born daughter after her. Karma agreed to shut her up, never intending to have another child, so when the surprise second child later came along they had to live with the pain. However, to be honest I just forgot to write in the actual scene that set it all up, and I decided against adding it anywhere else. The name Kaguya was a very last minute decision, and it was a chance for me to explore some ideas that didn’t fit with Daichi’s character. 

Interestingly too, Daichi and Nao were never intended to be a thing. I only decided that towards the VERY end. Even though the reason I named Nao that was because of a ship I had in a J Drama (Good Morning Call). It just kind of ended up happening because I won myself over with imagining the cute. 

The music 

I used to write with a lot of background music, though not all the time. Particularly towards the start, there was a lot that didn’t really make sense thematically, yet I would write to a lot. 

Here’s a link to the spotify playlist if you want it it’s basically all the ones I noted I’d listened to a lot. Not including the smut ones, though, I have a whole playlist for that. 

Some of the notable ones: 

Five String Serenade - the first scene I wrote of the entire fic, in Chapter 25 New Year Time where they fell asleep cuddling. 

Cosmic Love - when I wrote Nagisa’s love confession scene in hospital (I also wrote this pretty early on) 

Northern Downpour (though it was actually a cover by Emma Blackery) - The chapter after Daichi’s born (30) 

When The Party’s Over -  Confession Time Third Period, Chapter 69. I literally listened to this song on REPEAT when I planned and wrote the kind of ‘break up’ scene, and it’s one of the few parts that made me cry writing. 

Turning Page - I know I said no smut, but this song actually gave me the idea to have the “I love you” in chapter 108 be less on a whim and actually more built up. In the original plan, Karma really did just say it without thinking. I’m glad I changed that.  

Bury Me Low and Numb - pretty much all I listened to when writing the last few chapters, because Evil Nagisa core. So much so that Bury Me Low was in my top 2020 songs rewind. 

As for the title, there’s actually quite a funny story. I had no idea what to call the fic, and when that happens I usually just try and find some song lyrics. I really wanted to use something from ‘October’ by the Broken Bells. Not only because it’s my favourite song (has been for years), but thematically it really worked. The issue was, it worked as the WHOLE song, there were no individual lyrics that captured everything. And, if they did, they didn’t flow very well. And naming the fic ‘October’ would have been weird for a lot of reasons. There Is No Sweeter Innocence That Our Gentle Sin really was just plucked randomly, in a desperate search to find any snappy lyrics from any song that had some kind of meaning. After a bit of discussion, we settled that it kind of worked... if Daichi is innocent and they committed a sin or something. It also wasn’t the most obvious lyric from the song (Take Me To Church if anyone doesn’t know) so I just went with it. It works out, I think, because TINSITOGS turned out to be a pretty good acronym and pronounceable word in its own right. 

The merch  redbubble drama 

It’s a well known fact that I’m not very good at art. However, I decided to try pixel art because it seemed the easiest to not mess up. I made Karma and Nagisa, before deciding to also give Daichi a try. 

This, to this day, is the only good quality art of Daichi that I actually own. The only one I’m actually happy sharing and thinking it doesn’t look terrible. As much as I love people sending me fanart, it’s not ‘my property’, right. 

So, I was kind of joking about TINSITOGS having merchandise. At first I just made two funny quote things, and uploaded it to redbubble. I was never intending to actually make money from this, and I’d agreed to myself that if I did, I would just donate it to charity. I was joking with the quotes, but since I had this artwork I figured I may as well uploaded. Separately, there was also an image that had pixel Daichi next to pixel Nagisa and Karma (which I also created). 

Aside from showing up in a few people’s adverts across the internet, there was no real harm with this. In fact, I didn’t make money anyway. It was just... more the joke of it existing. I did, however, buy myself a Daichi phone case, which is one of my favourite possessions. 

The funny ‘drama’ comes in when they got taken down due to copywrite. Sure, the one with Nagisa and Karma, I understand. But the other three literally had no mention or anything to do with Assassination Classroom, aside from being from a fanfiction. So basically, someone who owns those rights claimed my OC as theirs. Which makes Daichi canon? Whatever the case, I found this hilarious don’t worry. 

How has TINSITOGS changed my life? 

This is quite a strange thing to think about. Because, in a lot of ways, it really hasn’t. As I’m sure a lot of people know, I don’t really consider myself to have any real ‘fame’, despite the impressive numbers. Whenever I tell people in my personal life, they seem to think I’m some sort of internet celebrity, but that’s never been the case for me. I mean, it’s hardly a cultural phenomenon. 

In a lot of ways, I’d much rather befriend someone than have them admire me. Possibly because being someone’s inspiration is kind of weird... I’m just an awkward duck who likes to write after all. I don’t mind it, though. I genuinely find it an honour, even if I don’t necessarily agree. I also want to take this time to say that if anyone ever wants to talk or message me, you’re more than free to do so. I’m usually super casual with people who do that, I promise. 

TINSITOGS was the first story I ever finished in the way I truly wanted to. Start to end, a full narrative. And it took a LOT. There were so many times I almost felt like quitting, or took super long breaks. For me, ADHD queen, actually finishing something was a huge deal. And I know I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t owe it to everyone who read it, and myself, to see it through. You know like, if I were to die tomorrow, at least I’ve left something behind. 

In a lot of ways, it’s changed me for the better. It’s helped me develop my writing styles, and way of thinking. It encouraged me to become more active in the fandom, and develop some important friendships. I always feel like my Tumblr and Fanfiction ‘known’ factor is separate. I think most of my Tumblr following is more to do with my theories/Japanese context research if anything, for example, but I know I wouldn’t be so interested in that if TINSITOGS hadn’t lead me to deeply examine character and really look into analysing source material for clues. I also think there’s just... a lot of myself in it. 

I was 17 years old, when I first came up with the idea. I finished the story when I was 20. Now, at the time of writing, I’m 21. That time has seen some pretty significant changes - just in general life facts and my own personal human development. For me at least, a lot of that was pretty turbulent, and TINSITOGS stands as a time capsule for that, in a way. 

I know I gained a lot of confidence, and it affirmed to me that writing is what I love. Telling stories and sharing them is what I love. 

Conclusion

Do I think TINSITOGS is an outstanding piece of writing, or the best fic ever? No. I really don’t. It’s strange to say because I definitely spent a lot of time on it, but it’s not like I put my full unbridled efforts into the story. I don’t fully plan, use a beta, or even read through on my own. And that’s okay - that’s not what I write fanfiction for. Fanfiction is my place to have fun with characters and stories I like, without the pressures of having to stand on my own complete originality. Yes, I’m fully confident that I can write at a “higher quality”, if I really wanted to. I’m also aware that some authors put their full effort into their fics, and that’s just as valid! 

It feels odd to say this about my own writing, but I honestly think there’s just something in this story. It might not be written in the best prose ever, and the premise might be kind of dumb for a lot of people. But, I think, there’s some part of this fic that managed to grab people. Somehow, at some point, many readers get captured into the emotions and so drawn in that ‘they just have to finish it now!’ Again, I’m not sure myself how I actually achieved that. Of course, that won’t apply to everyone, but I do feel there’s some truth in it. And it makes me happy, to have caused that. 

If TINSITOGS is your favourite fic, or if you genuinely think it’s the best story you’ve read, then thank you. I really appreciate your support, and I’m happy to have been a part of your life, I guess. I know how much fanfics can mean to a person, and that’s why I’m not going to take it down, or edit it at all. And it’s fine too, if you loved the fic for a while and moved on -i t happens. Whatever the case, I’m very honoured to have been able to occupy a moment of your life. Or if you find this fic in 10 years time, even, I still wholly appreciate you. 

This story was incredibly important to me, and thank you for reading if it was ever important to you too. 

You may ask, what now? Well, this is only intended to be a detailed look back for whoever’s interested, and it’s likely the only one I’ll actually do, a year after completion. Of course, if you ever want to ask me anything or just discuss the story, you’re honestly good to contact me in whatever way I have available. 

I’m still writing my ongoing stories, of course, despite taking a small break due to the university work load. I fully intend to complete the stories I’ve already started to tell, at least. After that... I’m not sure if I’ll still write fanfiction. Don’t panic, this isn’t a ‘I’m quitting writing’ thing. I may, however, have bled the Karmagisa genre a bit too dry at that point. Who knows? I am pretty interested in writing something original for once, so maybe that’ll work out. 

For now, at least, thank you to anyone who read this fic. To anyone who commented, liked, or interacted with me over it. To anyone who created or learnt from it. I’m really glad that I got to share this story with you all, and ultimately left some kind of mark, no matter how big or small. 

Happy birthday, TINSITOGS. I had a lot of fun writing you.