Sometimes You Gotta Write Tropes

SasuHina: fake relationship trope-fest. I’m just trying stuff out to get the juices flowing. One shot or maybe a teaser or maybe a half thought scene, I dunno.
***

The engagement should have been a thing that registered like a falling dew drop into a vast sea, hardly noted in his life. 

It should have. That was how the engagement for Itachi had gone. Izumi had said yes, and the wedding itself had mutated into a monster of an affair out of sight of Sasuke’s life. His one job was to keep the rings safe during the wedding day, and to stand there in a suit, something he had been trained to do since he was old enough to sit up on his own. Hardly a trial. 

It was stupid that he had anticipated the same sort of approach with Naruto’s engagement. There was nothing subtle about the blonde and never had been so, it made sense that his engagement would make an atomic bomb dent in his life. 

Why he was not prepared was a question even he couldn’t answer. 

“You have to stop calling me." 

"You didn’t even say congratulations. What kind of a sick bastard best friend are you?”

Sasuke rolled his eyes as he loosened the tie around his neck and tossed it over his head onto the leather couch in his living room. 

Inside the fridge several take out containers beckoned with moldy smelling things and in the end he bumped his forehead to the freezer door and rummaged blind for the beer can he was certain to feel in the door. 

“I think your mental health is likely more at question than my own. You are the one that insists on being in my life." 

"Sometimes I think you’re joking. Other times… whatever. This is not about you. This is about me." 

"Pretty much everything is always about you, idiot.” Or at least, somehow it always felt that way. 

“I am going to ignore the fact you did not congratulate me on the fact an actual live, beautiful and willing female agreed to marry me if you agree to be my best man." 

The sharp derisive intake of breath that hissed from Sasuke’s mouth had Naruto hurrying on. 

You already have practice because of Itachi! And I mean you hardly have to do anything, except you should probably throw me a Bachelor Party, but besides that-“ 

"Uuugh.” Sasuke snarled. “No, I don’t know… I am no good at any of this-" 

The phone beeping irritably in his hand signalled another call coming in and staring at it’s face revealed his brother’s photo, the image familiar as his own visage in the mirror.  

"Itachi is calling, I have to go." 

"I’m going to assume you said yes then because-”

“No, I never-”

“Bye! Thanks! See you soon!" 

"Idiot- wait- Fuck.” Sasuke growled, slamming his thumb on the cell to tap his brother’s face before jiggling it onto his shoulder. 

“What?”

“Miss you too, Little Brother.”

“Sorry, I’m kind of-”

“Feeling old? Alone? Left behind?" 

Sasuke paused before taking a sip of his freshly opened beer, eyes squinting with displeasure. "What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, I just heard about Naruto’s engagement and considering the sound of that beer opening I figured you were drinking your woes away. Nearly thirty and still single? Can’t be easy." 

The long pause that followed was only punctuated by Sasuke’s throat gulping down half the beer in one go. 

"Itachi, you got married at thirty two. Do you really want to start this conversation?" 

"Ah. I forgot you can’t take a joke. I was calling to let you know that Mother will be calling any moment now because…well, Naruto is getting married and that means she’s going to be wondering again if there’s anyone you might be thinking of proposing to." 

Wandering from the kitchen to the wide glass expanse that was his balcony window Sasuke sighed and downed the rest of the beer before answering.
"If I was to just…remain single…?”

“Uh…well… I mean, if you told her you were going to be a buddhist monk she might swallow it." 

Beyond the glass the window glowed, flickering with a million artificial city stars in a multitude of colors. There, in the concrete and electricity was the world he understood. There would be no buddhist monastery for him, this he knew.
And it wasn’t his first choice anyway. Returning to his apartment to the calm and quiet had it’s perks, but he wasn’t an idiot. 

Sometimes the echo of the silence was not as soothing as it could be.  

"She’s going to be a nightmare, isn’t she.”

“It will probably get worse as the years go by, yes." 

The lilting song that was his door bell ringing echoed through the quiet, infernally loud considering the silence that had preceded it. 

"What the-? Is someone at your door?”

“That’s usually what the door bell ringing means, yes. I gotta go.” Sasuke’s face did not match his calm tone, with his shirt unbuttoned and the empty beer can in hand he eyed the hall down to the front door like it might vomit out a viper. 

“Wait, Mother is going to call any minute and if you don’t have something to-”

Itachi’s voice died with the beep of his phone and tucking the item into his pants pocket he straightened his shirt, tossing the beer can into the sink before pausing at the door, frowning. 

Inside his pocket the vibrating tell of his mother’s onslaught made him sigh, the pull of parental disappointment dragging his shoulders down an inch. There was no pleasing the woman. No one who had ever showed the least bit of interest in him had been suitable, according to his Mother, and although he agreed he found her consistent dislike of all females unnerving. Even if he were to go scouring all the opposite sex for a wife, a thing he did not think he would be able to endure, the likelihood of finding someone to make her and him happy was low.  

Very low.

She wanted someone traditional, mild mannered, from a respectable family. A short but impossible list considering all his female acquaintances. Save, perhaps one or two…

Perhaps another beer would have to do, after dealing with this intrusion. One more beer might make answering the phone bearable.

Opening the door, however had the pleasant surprise of knocking any thoughts of his mother right out of his head. 

“Hi.” Hinata Hyuuga fidgeted in the form fitting dress before him, one plump lip bit nervously before she glanced away. “Hi, Sasuke-kun." 

And that’s when an idea hit him.

***

Finding herself standing there, looking at him was not surprising when you looked back on the series of events of the last two days. 

First had been the catastrophic word vomit of a confession, spilled out in a mildly intoxicated state while wobbling on heels she did not feel safe wearing and clutching the arm of the only boy she had ever really wanted. 

This nightmare of a situation had happened outside in the chill of a late spring night, just humid enough to hint at the coming summer. Inside of the restaurant she could hear the riotous laughter of their friends, people she considered more family than her own biological relatives. 

Naruto had stared with all encompassing blue eyes, mouth gaping as she tripped and stumbled through admitting she had loved him for the better part of her life, laughing all the while and spilling champagne down the length of her silk sleeve. 

The silence that had replied at her admittance had been sobering enough that her eyes had widened back and in a desperate and impossible attempt to save them all from the disaster she had unleashed she had tacked on an artless little after thought of, "Just kidding!" 

Needless to say, she had phoned a car to retrieve her, crying too hard and laughing too loud to really hear anything Naruto said in response besides, "I’m so sorry, Hinata,” and “Don’t even worry, of course we’re still friends." 

Maybe it had been that she had overindulged in the champagne of the engagement party, or maybe it was her body rejecting the rejection. Either way, she had thrown up non stop all the way home.  

The second event to lead her irrevocably to his apartment door, to his front step and the blank mat that stood before it was the first gathering of the bridesmaids.
Ino was not the kind of girl to keep issues unresolved. After ducking her calls for half a day Hinata had opened the door in pajamas and puffy eyes expecting to find the pizza delivery man only to come face to face with the bride of her longest running crush. 

She thought meekly that Ino was a better friend than she had ever realized. She didn’t even punch her in the face on sight. 

"So.” The blonde began, arms crossed and immaculate pant suit tailored to kill. “First you tell my fiance that you have loved him forever, and then you screen my calls." 

Shoulders drooping, hair a rats nest Hinata simply blinked back with a slow sigh.  

"I am a terrible person.” Her whisper had the raspiness of long tears, although if she was honest she was unsure of what she had been crying for. At first it had seemed to be the rejection she had long dreaded. However as the hours passed and the sun sank in the sky she had begun to think more and more about the destruction of her friendships, the dissolving of the new family she had cultivated with so many of her dearest people eroded by her selfish drunken act. 

“No.” Ino scowled. “No, you did a terrible thing. Did you think he was going to… leave me?” The last bit was whispered, as though she was scared to ask despite the force with which she began the question. 

Hinata sighed again, feeling the whispery movement of her bangs on her forehead at the touch of her breath. 

“No, Ino. I didn’t." 

Ino’s gaze flickered with relief, and then hardened again. "Did you… hope he would?" 

And there was the crux of all her crying. Hinata gazed back, glad for the numbness of her swollen face there to hide the tell tale flinch of truth. 

"No.” She admitted softly. “I was…tipsy….” She paused, watching as Ino waited expectantly for something more, something less cliche. 

Something solid. 

“And I… I…” Hinata floundered, panic blooming in her chest as she studied her friend, the threads of possibly rectifying everything she had wrecked slipping through her fingers as she lingered. 

In desperation she threw out a lie.
“I..was just…trying to clear that up..cuz I am…interested in someone…else." 

Ino studied her intently, the subtle curve of her brow hinting at her disbelief. Sometimes it felt as though the blonde could x-ray through her forehead, peering into the thoughts that fluttered through her brain. Thoughts that were, in that moment full of shame and dismay at her own gall. No one would buy that lie, least of all a friend she loved so much. 

To her surprise the intense second of scrutiny disintegrated like a dry leaf against flame, leaving Ino’s face smooth and calm. 

"Of course you are, I’ve known all along." 

There should have been a different thing, coming out of her mouth. Something along the lines of "I’m disappointed in you,” or “I never knew you were such a liar.”

This was not what Hinata had anticipated. 

“You…do?" 

"Yep.” Ino had pushed into the apartment then. “I have known since New Years.”
A long series of queasy minutes and some vague responses later Hinata had discovered who Ino was certain she had had her eye on.

And that’s how she now stood on his doorstep, breathing out a long teary sigh as he studied her in turn, cold and generally uncommunicative as usual. 

“H…Hi Sasuke-kun.” She swallowed, shifted in the black dress Hanabi had assured her accented all her assets and tried to keep her eyes firmly on his face.

“Hyuuga.” Calm did not disguise the puzzled curiosity that made his head cock just slightly, mouth quirking with unspoken questions. 

“I… don’t want to waste your time.” Slowly, she clenched her purse tightly at her side. “I have a really…really embarrassing favor to ask of you." 

"A favor?” This was said with both derision but just enough interest to keep her face from completely melting. “It is not often the Hyuuga ask anyone for favors.”

“No… I… it’s to do with Naruto-kun, which.. is why I thought perhaps you might help.” Hinata hung her head finally in shame, fingers pressed hard over her eyes so that she saw spots in the dark. 

“Hm.” The Uchiha hummed knowingly. “That idiot." 

This was not how she had wanted this conversation to go, but feeling the heat spreading right down her neck and to her shoulders she mustered all her courage and plowed head on. 

"I need… I need someone… I need you to be my fake boyfriend.”

There. Heart racing, face melting she took a step back, expecting his snappy refusal or even worse a chilly laugh. Perhaps if she could get back to the stairs she could avoid seeing the look of disgust on his face that would surely flash before her eyes everytime she blinked for the rest of her life. 

“Sure.”

And the universe splintered into a thousand different colors she didn’t know how to name.

did-you-kno:

Ambient-Mixer.com has a section dedicated to the background sounds of fictional worlds, so you can study to the sounds of the Gryffindor common room, read in Belle’s library, or browse the Internet while you’re being chased by a hoard of Dothraki. Source Source 2

just saying.

There’s someone who comments on almost every single new work I post in a series, without fail. Their first few comments were in broken English, and they later confessed to using Google Translate to read both my works and responses to their comments, and I was so touched? So when they said that I used Google Translate to give my response to their comment in Spanish. Every update, without fail, I get a wonderful comment on my fic in Spanish, and I always respond back. I love that reader.

winglesscrows:

ao3commentoftheday:

wolfdancer333:

ao3commentoftheday:

I love everything about this post

If you read my stuff, do not be afraid to comment in your native language. I promise I will do my best to respond back in the same language. This is touching and this honestly how all writers should be to their audience. After all, if not one of them read our books or our fics, where would we be? Sure we would still be writing but…..Wouldn’t that be awfully lonely?

So thank you to all the beautiful readers, no matter who you are and no matter what you read: you are the reason writers write. ❤

Yes, i have a fic where people would constantly say “sorry my English isn’t good” so i just told them to comment in their native language and then I could just google translate it. Sometimes people can be comfortable enough reading their second language, but not as comfortable writing it themselves, so i think it’s nice to let people known that they don’t have to comment in the same language the fic was written in. And it creates more excited comments as well! People are usually much more expressive in their native language!

It is SO heart warming to get messages in different languages. I love it so

writingmyselfintoanearlygrave:

carnie-vorex:

fierceawakening:

callmebliss:

feynites:

minesottafatspoollegend:

i love in fantasy when its like “king galamir the mighty golden eagle and his most trusted advisor who would never betray him, gruelworm bloodeye the treacherous”

When my sister and I were kids we had this one action figure, who was actually a brutalized batman doll without his cape (the dog chewed half his head, too), who we dubbed ‘Evil Chancellor Traytor’. The idea was that in the fictional society of our toys, ‘chancellor’ just came with the word ‘evil’ in front of it, as a matter of ancient tradition. Like ‘grand’ or ‘high’ or something along those lines.

Anyway, the running gag was that the king (an old Power Rangers knock-off doll) had absolute and unwavering faith in Evil Chancellor Traytor, who basically comported himself like a mix between Grima Wormtongue and Jafar from the Aladdin movies. Everyone was always sure that Evil Chancellor Traytor had something to do with the nefarious scheme of the day. The dude even carried around a poisoned knife called ‘the kingslayer’.

The additional twist on the joke, though, was that he never was behind anything. The king was actually right. Evil Chancellor Traytor was the most devoted civil servant in the entire Action Figure Dystopia. He spent his nights working on writing up new legislature to ensure that broken toys had access to mobility devices, was always on the lookout to acquire new shoeboxes for expanding city infrastructure, and drafted a proposal that once got half the ‘settlement’ in my sister and I’s closet moved to the upper shelf so that vulnerable toys were less likely to be snatched up by the dog.

The knife, as it turned out, was as symbolic as the ‘evil’ in his name. See, Action Figure Dystopia had a long history of corrupted monarchs getting too big for their thrones and exploiting the underclasses. The job of the Evil Chancellor was to always remain vigilant, and loyally serve a good ruler – or, if the regent should became a despot, to slay them on behalf of the people.

But since killing the king would be a terrible crime, the Evil Chancellor had to be the kind of person who would willingly die to spare the people from the plight of a wicked leader; because the murder would be pinned on them, in order to keep the ‘machinery of politics’ working as smoothly as ever.

Anyway, Evil Chancellor Traytor had a diary, in which my sister I would take turns writing out the most over-the-top good shit he’d done behind the scenes. Usually after everyone else had finished talking shit about him. I don’t know why but we got the biggest kick out of being like:

Barbie With the Unfortunate Haircut: Oh that Evil Chancellor Traytor! Why can’t the king see how wicked he is?!

Charmander From the Vending Machine: Char!

Jurassic Park Toy of Jeff Goldblum With Disturbingly Realistic Face: At least if someone puts a knife in the king’s back, we’ll know where to look!

Evil Chancellor Traytor’s Diary: Today I was feeding ducks at the park when I noticed another legless action figure sitting by the benches. I put a hundred dollars into his bag while he wasn’t looking. I really need to increase budgeting to the medical treatment centers. If only we had enough glue, I think we would see far fewer toys trying to get by without limbs… *insert iconic evil laugh*

Anyway, Evil Chancellor Traytor eventually fell victim to one of my mom’s cleaning sprees, and she decided he was too busted up to keep and tossed him out. My littler brother, who tended to follow my sister and I’s games like he was watching a daily soap opera, cried so hard that we had to do a special ‘episode’ where one of the toys found the Evil Chancellor’s diary, and so he got a big huge memorial and the king threw himself into the empty grave and then ordered the toys driving the toy bulldozer to bury him so that ‘Traytor’s grave would have a body’ (this seemed very important for some reason).

And then we had the Quest For a New King. Somehow or another that ended up being a giant rubber snake called ‘Tyrant King Cobra’.

::closes tab, shuts off computer, and proceeds to have the best day ever just by knowing this exists::

i will always reblog Evil Chancellor Traytor

tbh that’s some A-grade worldbuilding and use of tropes, these kids should be hired to direct movies instead of crusty idiots like Michael Bay 

Quality story telling lol

My gosh i love this

newrageinc:

delightfulharmonypoetry:

to all my darlings messaging me asking for Vital to continue- I TRYING! I promise! I haven’t abandoned it! It’s still my baby! I am nursing it back to health, I promise~! Thank you so much for your constant support!

Friendly reminder that patience and understanding are /important/

👍🏼 you’re doing a good job ink

I love you dearly, chickie ❤

to all my darlings messaging me asking for Vital to continue- I TRYING! I promise! I haven’t abandoned it! It’s still my baby! I am nursing it back to health, I promise~! Thank you so much for your constant support!