*22*Lesbian*Writer*Slytherin*Stark*Weeb* All those I'm following are zines/projects that I'm currently in or have completed~ c: Also on Ao3 under the same name!
Hey, I saw you on AO3. I fell in love with your fanfic “You’ll Be Back”, and I go back and reread it occasionally because it’s just so damn good. I was wondering if you had any plans on continuing it because I would do just about anything to see how it ends. XP
Hi there! Thank you very much, it means a lot to me that you enjoy it QwQ Honestly I'm not sure if I'll ever go back to it, though I do think about it a lot. At the time when I was actively writing the next chapter I was struggling with my writing in general and felt that everything I wrote wasn't good enough. I was scared to disappoint and became too doubtful to continue with any of the stories I was working on at the time. However, I've been in a much better mindset for a while, and I'd really love to go back to it one day! I'll definitely look at it again, maybe I'll get a spark of inspiration hehe~ c: I almost feel the need to rewrite it since it's been so long, but we'll see!
I came from Ao3! Since you say that you’re open for prompts ask— Atem & Yugi and the sexual tension between them (they haven’t confessed to each other yet) when they’re dipping in onsen together :P Write this one shot please? :3
Hiya! Ohh that sounds really cute, I’ll get to it soon :D
This was written for @atlazine :D I was assigned Air so I wrote this focusing on Aang, but also added as many characters who’ve impacted him as I could~ Look out for leftover sales!
A Hero’s Love
Word Count: 1,998
Rating: G
Summary: About a decade since awakening from his snow globe, Aang prepares himself for his most pressing challenge yet: summoning the courage to propose to the most incredible person he's ever met. With the help of many old friends, Aang will do just that without looking too much like a babbling, love-stricken fool.
Aang fell in love with Katara the moment their eyes met. Of course, he hadn’t known to correlate such awe with newfound love right away, but even as a child he could sense how the waterbender left a mark on him within moments of occupying the same space. The girl's gaze had been full of concern and curiosity, her aura demanding the younger boy's attention even while his chilled mind was rebooting after spending a century as a popsicle.
She was, and still is, the most beautiful soul he's ever encountered. That day, as Katara’s ocean-esque eyes collided with Aang's cloudy greys, he knew she was special. Years later, Aang's feelings for Katara haven't dimmed, only intensified with each second he shared at her side. Now, blossoming into an adult, the Avatar was set on acting out what was once mere fantasy to him when he was young: asking his beloved to spend the rest of her days with him.
But before doing so, Aang wished to spread word of this decision and, consequently, the joy that comes with it. Aang would finally propose to the woman that had saved his life and stolen his heart while spreading the jittery excitement he feels with those who've supported him along the way. Eager to share, the Avatar had soared through the skies once again, saddled on Appa's warm back with Momo perched on his shoulder.
First on Aang's journey had been Guru Pathik. This may seem strange, as the wise man had been the one who previously demanded Aang let go of Katara. However, it’s precisely because of this that the Avatar visited him before anyone else. After the war, Aang never had a chance to return to the guru and question the believed importance of severing ties.
Aang, though he struggled to admit it, harbored a little resentment for Pathik after he went against his teachings. He still respected the elder, but part of him was eager to face Pathik, to stand proud knowing that he made the better choice as a boy rather than abiding by the wise man's ruling. He was determined to marry the one Pathik told him to leave behind, so Aang was as spiteful as he could ever be. Despite this ire, Aang truly hoped that he and Pathik could reconcile over the most pleasant of news.
Upon landing, the two shared some niceties before Aang's desire to open up overwhelmed him. “I’m going to marry her, you know. If I’d listened to you, she would’ve died.” Aang could barely look at the guru when he said this, mixed feelings of avoided grief and desperation swirling about his mind. Pathik wasn’t blind to this, and quickly sat the Avatar down as he began emptying his thoughts.
“Connections to others limit our ability to prosper. Any ties to this world and its people weaken our chance to explore the strength laying dormant within.” Aang did his best to sit still and listen, but he couldn’t cease the curling of his toes and twitching nose. He’d waited a long time to hear Pathik’s explanation, but it was harder than expected to eye the man responsible for Katara’s near-death experience.
He was so restless that Aang was oblivious to Pathik’s similar discomfort. The elder shifted his hands from his knees to his calf over and over again, running his fingertips along the fabric as he spoke. He too struggled to hold eye contact with the man he hurt. “I didn't wish to harm you with my judgment. I thought I was doing what had to be done, both for you and the fate of us all. It seems that… I may have been wrong, in your case at least. I hope you can forgive me.”
With each word Aang’s tight clench of his fists loosened just as the viper’s grip on his heart receded. “I haven't a single doubt that you and your beloved will be very happy together. Cherish her and those you love, young man.” Both men’s gazes steadily rose, meeting for the first time since Pathik began illustrating his convictions that were left wrongly unspoken for years. The guru smiled at Aang, taking in all that the Avatar had become without him.
“Your ties to them seem to make you stronger. I'm sure dear Gyatso would agree.” The conversation dissipated any lingering frustration in Aang's heart, unaware that so much had existed until Pathik’s sincere admission of regret. Aang pulled the elder into a hug when he initially intended to part ways after a stiff, procedural bow. He experienced an unexpected ease wash over him, a tension in his stomach unraveling once his reconnection with the elder appeased his perturbed psyche.
Driven by the gratifying experience, Aang immediately met up with another man from his past— though undeniable wisdom and age is all that connects the two elders. King Bumi jumped on Aang upon his arrival, and the two puffed out giddy, exhausted breaths. The longtime friends discussed the good old days before Aang announced he was planning to propose.
The king was so ecstatic that he moved to tackle him again. However, the Avatar was ready the second time around—though just barely pivoting away. Nevertheless, the king was undeterred. For several minutes he continued to leap at Aang, who somehow managed to stay untouched. He was out of breath until Bumi came to a sudden halt and offered some sort of approving nod, like their game of cat and mouse equated to something far beyond Aang's comprehension.
With that, Bumi resumed his full height and rubbed Aang's forehead as if he were a fortune teller prodding his crystal ball for answers. The Avatar merely stood in silence, holding in a snort while he waited for his friend to finish his inner analysis. “You've grown so much, yet your spirit has remained passionate and humble. You'd be surprised how often power corrupts. You're still the friend I made all those years ago, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm sure that spunky waterbender gal feels the same.”
Aang nearly teared up at the sentiment. Just as he placed a hand on Bumi’s shoulder, the elder grinned before slamming the unsuspecting Avatar onto his back. The two friends continued to run about for hours until Aang insisted for his own safety that they stop. With a tight hug that both men groaned through, laughing through the glorious agony, the king and the Avatar parted ways.
Aang set out to the Southern Water Tribe to meet with the last wise man on his list: Hakoda. The surprise visit prompted Katara’s father to suspect exactly what the Avatar wished to discuss. He ushered Aang into his home, seeking privacy for the topic. “If you’re here to ask for my approval in marrying my daughter, do know that it’s not necessary; Katara is a grown woman who doesn’t need her father cradling her, but I appreciate your sentiment nonetheless.”
Hakoda’s shoulders shook as he emitted a low chuckle at Aang’s wide eyes and tense frame. “Come now, don’t look so embarrassed. Why else would you be here? I don’t suppose you plan to confess your feelings to my son and marry him instead?” The Avatar smiled sheepishly and rubbed his neck, joining Hakoda in laughter.
Just as the men made earnest, understanding eye contact, an ear-shattering scream disturbed the moment. Sokka barged in, gaping like the recent catch of fish balanced on his back. “You’re finally going to do it? Okay, so when are you planning on asking, exactly? Oh, and where? How? I have a million questions, man! Or, wait, I guess I can call you brother now, huh?” His babbling was met with blank stares which quickly melted into bright smiles. The men spoke of the future until nightfall, and Aang said his goodbyes, his soul satisfied at the reciprocated excitement from his closest companions.
Each meeting had left the Avatar with a newfound clarity, and he now feels ready to propose to Katara. Knowing that he and Katara would appreciate the hijinks of it now that time and fear have passed, Aang brings Katara to Ember Island after requesting its theater group to put on the same reenactment of their journeys solely for the couple. As expected, Aang and Katara laugh throughout the entire production.
Aang admires the waterbender’s uncontrollable chuckles and glistening eyes, growing eager for the play to end so he can propose. Once the curtains fall, the couple clap and cheer before Aang tugs Katara out of her seat, guiding her to the beach. The two gaze in silence at the shimmering waters, both sneaking not so subtle glances at each other for a marvelous eternity. Aang almost hates that he has to break their trance for any reason at all, but he just can’t wait any longer—not with how beautifully illuminated she is under the moonlight.
“Katara, there’s something that I want to ask you. The thing is, uh, you see…”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Hang on, let me get through this,” Aang holds up a palm while rubbing his temple with the other, forehead creasing. The Avatar curtains his eyes, vacuuming up oxygen through his nostrils as if he’s never had any fill his lungs before. “Okay, so when two people love each other very much—”
His hands retract to his center, fingers spreading out and motioning to the air. Aang continues the anxious spasming of his limbs until Katara's words process in his overloading mind. “Wait, what? How did… I mean, who told you?”
“You shouldn’t have trusted Sokka. That goof is terrible at keeping secrets, especially from me.” An airy chuckle tumbles out of the waterbender, recalling the event from just a few nights ago, “I barely looked at the guy before he broke down into gibberish, going from formal venues to invitations or something. All it took was a few seconds of hard eye contact for him to snitch every last detail… and then some. I know way too much about Sokka's love for Suki now, it's kind of disturbing. I'll spare you the trauma.”
With a sigh, Aang smacks the center of his arrow, though his taut expression is quick to dissipate. He shrugs his shoulders, chalking up the reveal to one of Sokka's many charming moments. “Figures. I didn’t even tell him since I was sure he would blab. He was eavesdropping when I was talking to your—um, never mind.” The two share a laugh, but Aang’s nervous rocking on his heels silences both of them. “So, you really mean it? You'll… marry me?”
Katara’s smile stretches further as the Avatar eyes her from under his dark lashes. “Of course, sweetie. If I’d never met you, there’s no way I would’ve discovered half of what I’m capable of. I was able to become strong like my mother wanted me to be, and I even got to help save the world with the Avatar himself. Now, I’m—” She pauses her spiel when Aang’s head tilts to the side, though roses seem to bloom within his cheeks as they burn red. “Okay, okay, sorry. Enough about me.” Clearing her throat, Katara sets her hands on his shoulders. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re everything to me, Aang. I’d be honored to spend the rest of my life with you.”
His face bursting with color, Aang lowers his gaze “I’m the one who’s honored to be with you... I may have saved the world, but you, ya know, saved me and all. And not just from being a snow globe.”
“I know.”
With the promise made between them, Aang and Katara melt into each other’s arms. They seal this new bond with a kiss while a gentle breeze twirls through their bodies. It's almost as if the Air Nomads’ spirits were applauding their pupil, embracing the pair in gusts of caresses like the lovers are the heart of a hurricane.
This was written for @pkmnvillainszine !! Digital copies of it may go on sale again if there’s enough interest~ I loved being able to write about Lusamine, she’s one of my favorite characters! Her past is hinted at in the game so I did my best to add to it :D I do feel that this is important to note: no one’s past is an acceptable reason for abusing someone else, and in no way am I saying that!! I just think Lusamine is a really complex character that we didn’t get enough focus on, thus this was born c:
Beautiful Disaster
Word Count: 2,583
Rating: T
Summary: Lusamine is an abusive mother, her heart black and mind rabid with dangerous dreams of destiny. However, she wasn’t always so void of morals; quite the opposite, in fact. It takes quite a traumatic past to corrupt an angel into her sinister counterpart. [A Lusamine-centric overview of her history as well as the Aether Foundation’s]
Lusamine’s heart was, once upon a time, one of overflowing love. Her gentle soul was angelic, admirable, just bursting with kindness as it sought hurt to heal.
She was renowned for her remarkable compassion, it being deemed her most defining and enticing trait. This unparalleled kindness led to swarms of adorers, treasuring her and the calming aura she carried with each soft step against the earth.
She was treated like a saint by strangers; a mere conversation would be enough to fall under her coaxing spell. Of course, Lusamine had also been blessed with a youthful exterior.
Her lithe physique, long locks of golden sunshine, and glowing green eyes may have intrigued passerbys, but it was Lusamine’s pure heart that caused many to revere her. It’s why Mohn married her.
Despite her perceived perfection, too beautiful to be of this world and a compassion rivaled by none, there was yet another factor that made Lusamine beyond mortals’ comprehension.
Lusamine had a brilliant, curious brain. She’d eye a problem, an equation, a mystery, and with ease, the answer would come together like puzzle pieces.
However, her vast Intelligence was often omitted, made irrelevant by her exceptional beauty and caring disposition. Of course, Lusamine’s logic was respected in her work environment, given its scientific purpose.
Even so, as Lusamine contributed to breakthroughs for the good of all Pokemon, compassion was viewed as the main driving force by those around her, all while bearing the form of a gorgeous young lady.
It didn’t matter that her brain functioned like that of a machine. Rather, the attention was, as usual, on the fantastic results of such endeavors: All the time, all the effort, was chalked up to Lusamine’s caring nature instead of her wondrous intellectual mind.
To many, Lusamine wasn’t even human, too above such a dull title and abysmal fate. She was spawned from the sky, an angel among men who’d abandoned the glorious heavens to be marveled at as she aided those in need. A wingless deity with a pure soul, not to mention the IQ surpassing the common genius…
Then her children were born, and everything changed. None of those things that marked Lusamine as heavenly mattered anymore. Only her babies mattered.
Those first moments of existence for Gladion and Lillie, the shallow breaths as their children entered the world and the cries that followed, set the stage for the future. When Lusamine held her perfect children close as Mohn caressed her shoulders, reality froze.
An unforeseen flash captured the family in a still frame. The picture hung in the forefront of Lusamine’s mind, framed and isolated. That day, she sought to claim this bliss for eternity, expanding the feeling of absolute joy across her timeline.
Life was perfect, too perfect to let subside. A certainty cemented itself in Lusamine’s essence: she would enjoy this perfection every day until she dies, still bearing a smile.
After experiencing the utmost level of happiness, Lusamine wasn’t going to let it go so easily.
Perfection was tasted, and she refused to spoil her tongue with anything else. They were a family, so beautiful in their completion. Everything was as it should be. Lusamine didn’t expect it all to be finite.
While studying Ultra Wormholes, Mohn was ripped from his dimension right in front of her. An experiment had erupted into chaos as Lusamine tried with all her strength to pull her husband away, but it was futile. She’d managed to ground herself behind a sturdy column.
Mohn had been less reactive, mesmerized by the wormhole while Lusamine had immediately fled. By the time her husband ran, Lusamine could barely grip his hand before he was sucked into the unknown, forever lost, forever out of reach.
When the wormhole vanished, Lusamine screeched as she fell to her knees, calling for her husband over and over until it sounded like anything but a name. The love of her life was gone in an instant, their children left without a father. They founded the Aether Foundation together, yet the work Mohn had dedicated himself to betrayed him. It wasn’t fair.
This was all that ran through Lusamine’s broken mind when she screamed and pounded on the floor. Wicke and Faba had burst in to find her beating the tile until her hands were bloody. Neither of them could ever erase their boss’s shattered voice from memory.
They’d tried to lift her from the floor so she’d stop harming herself, but Lusamine refused to be moved. Each time Faba and Wicke pulled her up, Lusamine crumbled back down. Eventually, they dropped to either side of Lusamine, stroking her back and waiting for her to explain what had occurred.
The two employees, though very different, met each other’s gaze with the same look of concern as they comforted their sobbing, shaking superior. They were so caught up in Lusamine’s meltdown that they failed to realize that their other boss was nowhere to be found.
The wings of a grounded angel cascaded one by one, abandoning the once seemingly perfect being. Lusamine was crumbling, cracking and crying until her wings were eventually ripped from her back.
She snapped, stripped of all that made her desirable. While her pretty face remained intact, her interior was corrupted. She was still beautiful to the eye but her soul was made ugly, twisted and distorted to the point of obscurity.
Most abandoned her, just as she abandoned kind motives. Ripping it out, taking a bite then stomping on it, Lusamine discarded her broken heart, blackened and useless and slowing her down.
The few who stood by Lusamine were employees, and most feared her. Those with any power within Lusamine’s ranks respected her for the panic she instilled in others, as if she did so by reaching into one’s chest and applying the pressure directly onto their heart.
Faba was one of those who idolized her. The Branch Director had always hungered for authority, and Lusamine was ripe with it from the start. Before, she ruled through inspiration, which is admirable in its own way, but Lusamine’s shift to an iron fist left Faba with no complaints.
How could he mind it? After all, Faba may be sneaky and influential when need be, but such magnificent brute strength was quite a sight to behold. He respected Lusamine before because he had to, given his position underneath her.
Then, like how most had been before her change, Faba was drawn to Lusamine like a marveled moth knowing flying into an unsympathetic flame. Lusamine didn’t simply fall apart when her husband was snatched from her grasp despite how easy it would’ve been.
No, Lusamine toughened up and got to work, doing whatever she could to get him back while crushing those that dared to slow her down. That’s the type of person Faba can proudly state his allegiance to, unlike the soft-hearted pushover Lusamine had once been.
On the other hand, Wicke was one of the few who was neither terrorized or in awe of Lusamine. Wicke attempted to replicate her boss’ once tranquil presence. Sure, the atmosphere she paraded around each floor of the foundation was warm and healing and gentle.
Wicke may have been a descendant of fae at most, her marvelous qualities stemming from mythical origins, but Lusamine was a goddamn angel. At least, she had been an angel, once.
Regardless, Wicke could never compare to the deity among men Lusamine had been, and in a way still is. Her soul was tainted, yes, painted black by bitterness and despair. While no longer a heart of heaven, a demon is still deserving of awe when compared to the mediocrity that is mankind.
All in all, she didn’t let herself latch onto what anyone else thought of her anymore: she didn’t need their opinions to get her husband back. Mohn needed her objective and alert; anything else was unnecessary. Nevertheless, a low growl always toppled out Lusamine’s lips when she spotted Wicke offering someone a hug, advice, or a shoulder to cry on.
Lusamine may’ve left all that behind, but seeing someone essentially replace you isn’t the greatest feeling. Not to mention when that replacement is less than subpar, though it’s not fair to Wicke to say so. After all, there’s no comparison between a queen and a goddess.
Lusamine thought, at the very least, she’d have Gladion and Lillie. Her sweet, obedient children would comfort her, praise and admire her as she spent every waking minute on saving Mohn.
They were supposed to keep her somewhat sane, grounded enough to focus. Instead, they betrayed her as well, tossing Lusamine aside when her halo shattered, the pieces contorting into horns. Thorns sprouted out of her stem, pricking those who once found peace in her embrace.
Fine, Lusamine didn’t need them. She didn’t need anybody! Her studies of the Ultra Beasts and their wormholes were finally bearing fruit after about a decade. One way or another, Lusamine’s quest to locate Mohn would soon come to an end.
Returning to consciousness, the scientist cracks her eyes open. She immediately regrets it. Not only is the sight of anything but blackness agonizing, but the room is drenched in absolute white.
The overbearing amount of it blinds Lusamine, and she groans through the oncoming pain thundering in her skull. Squeezing her eyes shut for half a minute, she tries again, though with more caution. At least she’s prepared for the searing sensation that’s to come.
Lusamine anticipates the unavoidable pain from her brilliant environment, but she’s an intellectual. The throbbing need to know the details of her situation outweighs the desire to fall back into a kinder, oblivious unconsciousness.
Her curiosity burns much as her assaulted irises. She gnaws on her lip through the pain as Lusamine attempts to raise her eyelids further bit by bit.
Fingers claw at the material beneath them. Thin cloth curls under her intense grip, though the odd texture peeks her already raging curiosity. Uncurling her fingers, Lusamine runs her hand over the fabric.
Gritting her teeth, she lowers her gaze away from what’s directly in front of her to the bed. It’s a specific type, one that Lusamine hasn’t experienced since…
Since childbirth. Lusamine manages to open her eyes fully, brow furrowed as she gapes at the hospital bed. She can’t help the immediate disdain that sours her mouth when she spots her hideous paper bag of a gown. Why…is she here? What happened to her?
Lusamine’s unforgiving headache punishes her soon as she tries to recall any recent memories. Using any extra brain power isn’t worth the agony, so she returns to her original quest: analyze her surroundings.
The bed and thin, teal gown give away where she is, but she’s desperate for more information when left with so little outside of that. Peeping from under her eyelashes, Lusamine notes the expected: white sheets, white walls, white furniture.
The room is pure as her angel wings had once been. Although, the white of the room portrays anything but purity. It’s more of a lack of color, devoid of passion, joy, and life itself.
Dull and soul-sucking and somehow so bleak in its blankness. Lusamine’s weakened state has made her even paler, almost ghost like as she blends into the monotonous background.
At the same time it’s bright, scorching Lusamine’s eyes, existing as the opposite of oblivion. It empowers the hammering within her head to stare anywhere and at anything in the room.
The paint gleams as rays of the sun exacerbate its shine, protruding through a window that consists of almost the entire back wall. Lusamine can barely take it any longer, eyes watering as they cry out for her to show them mercy by shutting them, but she doesn’t.
The tears streaming down her face don’t stop her. Her blurred vision manages to pick up the IV embedded in her left arm, and the outlines of contrasting items on the bedside table to her right. The shapes become more clear after Lusamine sets her gaze on the stark objects, willing her mind to settle and focus.
Several more seconds allow her to make out the assortment of flowers, stuffed Pokemon and cards piled atop the small table. Leaning towards them, Lusamine finds that a few have even fallen onto the ivory tiles due to the little space and the sheer amount of trinkets awaiting her upon waking.
Her stare is blank as she reaches for a toy Teddiursa. Lusamine drops it onto her lap, gaze flickering up and down the one of many similar get well gifts.
Get well from what, Lusamine wonders, though a sharp pain in her skull cuts off that thought train. She clutches the soft, eternally smiling bear tighter and tighter like a lifeline. Fingers threaten to strangle it, grip demanding answers that she’s unable to ponder on her own.
Propping it beside her, Lusamine ignores the few other knick knacks on the floor and grabs one of the cards off the countertop. An elementary poem about the strength behind recovery is printed inside, along with the names of several Aether Foundation employees on every inch.
They’re not many in the mess that she recognizes, but there’s enough that she realizes that these are the lowest ranking peoples in the branch. So they couldn’t even bother to buy separate cards…
Lusamine snatches another from the table, finding a similar set of stanzas inside. Although, unlike the previous card, this one is less than twenty signatures. Faba’s cursive and Wicke’s blocky handwriting with a heart instead of a dot on the ‘i’ are found underneath the printed text.
She doesn’t spare it a second glance as she grabs one more card. Her eyes are dull, unsuspecting when Lusamine opens it, doing so just to pass the time and sate her incensed curiosity.
What Lusamine finds wracks her already disheveled mind. A sharp inhale burns her dry throat. Inside is a polaroid picture of Lillie and Gladion smiling shoulder to shoulder, along with sweet messages and their signatures underneath.
It all comes crashing back into her in a single wave. Memories of the Ultra Beasts, being merged with one, Lillie’s distraught expression as she begged her mother to stop. Somehow, what sticks out most of all is her daughter’s defiance, the determination behind her hardened green eyes, her mother’s matching eyes.
Lusamine drags a hand across her face, tears forming again. Despite the rivers flowing down her cheeks, Lusamine can’t pinpoint why she’s suddenly so overwhelmed. Grief over what she’d become and the people she pushed away in the process.
Shame from letting herself be blinded by her search for Mohn that she disregarded the legacy they shared as husband and wife, their precious children. Longing to embrace her babies, knowing how much they’ve suffered.
Lusamine lost her husband, but because of her distorted desperation to be reunited with him, Lillie and Gladion lost both their parents.
They seem to have forgiven her last Lusamine can remember. However, being able to forgive herself is a whole other venture.
What wonderful children they’ve become without her. They’re kind enough to give a monster like Lusamine a second chance even when she believes herself beyond redemption.
“When did you both become so beautiful?”
Maybe if Lillie and Gladion see something worth saving in Lusamine, it just might be plausible. With a small smile, she raises the picture to her lips, kissing both of her babies’ static foreheads.
A preview of my fic surrounding Bort’s view of Dia for @elysianzine , a Land of the Lustrous zine :D Pre-orders are open now, so please consider checking it out if you like HnK!! The artwork is just gorgeous, the stories are beautiful, and the merch is super pretty ;w;
Bort is not weak, and is far from a coward. Their skills in combat are unmatched among the gem family, and this prowess defines Bort's existence. Not a single Lunarian has managed to chip a piece of Bort's outer shell, and they intend to keep it that way. Dia, on the other hand, has had crystalline limbs decimated on multiple occasions, fueled by their foolish desire to prove some ridiculous point to her patrol partner: that they're not weak either, but Dia only racks up further evidence for Bort's own beliefs.
While Dia may not be so fragile, this is not enough to fare against many vicious Lunarians. Bort is stronger than them. They're stronger than most, and that should be the end of this argument. Never mind the seemingly straightforward concept, it's not enough to close the case. Not to Dia, for one idiotic reason or another.
Bort didn't understand. In fact, they were adamant about dismissing Dia's fruitless explanations because no matter how many times Dia countered Bort, their stance wouldn't waver. If you're weaker than those around you, or if you're simply not cut out to handle a particular foe, it's your responsibility to stay out of harm's way: make room for those who are equipped to deal with the situation and scatter as to not be a burden.
That's how it’d always been, but while it should've remained this way, it didn't.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Here’s the full piece I wrote for Foundations: A Naruto Founders zine by @incubuswingszines :D I was given summer, so I wrote about Hashi, Tobi and Mito as kids just having a fun day at the beach~ c:
This is an excerpt from my fic for @onepunchmanzine :D Preorders are open now~
‘Focus on the task,’ the hero repeats the mantra in her mind, levitating her coffee cup forward to take another sip. “Okay, love, now that your hair is nice and dry, what style are you looking for?” As if preparing to chastise a child, Tatsumaki releases an exaggerated sigh heavy with disappointment. The styrofoam cup’s return to the counter reverberates louder than it should’ve.
“Do whatever you think is best. That is your job, isn’t it? You shouldn’t be asking me anything.” Curling her head back, Tatsumaki narrows emerald eyes at the upside-down worker. “Just no cutting, understand?” Normally, the hero would’ve specified exactly what style she wants since she obviously knows what looks best.
Nonetheless, Tatsumaki is loosening her grip on the reins that guide her through life, just for today, allowing others to share some responsibility. She’s more than capable of relinquishing control in a few minor situations, such as her blow dry. The sudden fidgeting in the salon chair is certainly unrelated. “Um, o-of course, Miss Tatsumaki. Thank you for honoring my salon with your patronage. I’ve owned this place for five years and have never served someone so remarkable!”
Tatsumaki responds with a curt hum, her eyes remaining set on the magazine hovering in front of her. She’s not oblivious to the twitching smile that spreads too far on the hairdresser’s taut face. The nail technician cleaning up her tools next to Tatsumaki’s feet shoots her boss a sympathetic look. She’d chosen to refrain from speaking while painting Tatsumaki’s nails a dazzling deep blue unless absolutely necessary, given what she knows about the hero sitting above her. Clearly she made the right decision.
The stylist starts to straighten Tatsumaki’s hair, causing the esper to gnaw on her lips to keep from spouting an objection.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Prince Todoroki feared becoming a monster like his king and father his whole life, but the love of a humble village boy has freed him from the very possibility.
AHHHH I FINALLY GOT THIS DONE!! This is my response to @crzangel ‘s fic "Quest for Love" :D These fics are for @tododekuvalentine, a valentine's day/white day exchange~ The first fic was through Izuku's perspective, and mine is through Todoroki's~ I'm so sorry for taking so long dearie, life has been kicking my butt recently OTL I'm so happy to finally have my part done, I absolutely love the scenario you came up with and I hope that my response does it justice ;w;
A preview of my fic titled “ Requiem of the Fallen” for @undertalezine :D I’m so honored to be working with so many incredible people, this zine is absolutely gorgeous!! Pre-orders open on January 27th~ ^3^
This is a preview of my fic for @bananafishzine-wishes :D You can pre-order it here (there's also an adorable merch bundle as well): bananafishzines.tictail.com
Here's all the other links for the zine:
Instagram: instagram.com/bananafishzines
Twitter: twitter.com/bananafishzines
Tumblr: bananafishzine-wishes.tumblr.com
From the moment Ash met Eiji, something in him seemed to shift. Outside of his role as a leader, Ash didn’t really care what others thought of him. He never had. But, ever since Eiji entered his life, not only had someone else’s opinion of him begun to matter, but Ash suddenly wanted to matter to somebody, to Eiji, as if the Japanese teen were some deity, an overseer whose fingers dropped the dice that determined all future possibilities. Ash’s family and many of his friends were gone, but Eiji reawakened a piece of his soul that had long been forgotten. Ash genuinely cared about Eiji’s perception of himーhe did right away. It hadn’t taken long for a newfound desire to grow inside of him: Ash wished to be everything to Eiji. He latched onto the idea of Eiji valuing him, admiring and holding him in the highest regard in his heart, subsequently purifying him. Through the horrors he continued to face along this pathway carved by Lucifer, that idea helped Ash’s heart fend off further darkness.
Arms crossed and back straight, Ash grows tense as Eiji swings his hips to the electric beat pounding throughout the refurbished warehouse, music echoing along the walls and ceiling. While everyone else loses their minds to the dizzying rush of the rhythm, the ever self-conscious Eiji merely sways. It's just enough movement to be considered dancing, an invisible string guiding Eiji’s waist along the edge of the recently-tiled space. Ash presses his shoes into the barstool. What enchants Ash so much isn't how subtle, delicate, and beautiful Eiji is as he twists on the makeshift dance floor. No, his thin physique isn't what Ash is marvelling at. It's what Ash can see underneath each gentle, wary step. Ash focuses instead on the nervous smile tugging at Eiji's lips, how his hands clench and release as he attempts to let loose like everyone around him. The soul inside Eiji conveys a symphony of raw emotions behind his bashful effort. No one can deny how gorgeous he is. Without knowing him well, one could describe Eiji as simple, but they would be intolerably wrong. Tonight is a perfect rebuttal to such an assumption.
Despite splurging on bright, eccentric clothes to fit in, Eiji stands out amongst the frenzied, energetic crowd in his lack of chaos. It only makes Eiji all the more radiant, his clear tenacity and willingness to try shining through him. Eiji dares to lower his eyelids and nod his head from side to side, visibly relaxing more and dipping deeper into the tune’s spell. Arms uncoiling from around his shoulders, Eiji lowers one hand to bounce on his thigh. The other reaches into his hair, threading dark bangs across his forehead...
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