#( THIS IS SO OLD BUT LIKE I WROTE HIS UH IN JUNE OR JULY AND NEVER POSTED IT LOL )

[techniiciian]

the sky here is clear. so clear, in fact, that each star and planet cluster could be seen perfectly.

'night is beautiful on this planet.' the thought crosses matt’s mind as his gaze shifts from constellation to constellation, from star system to star system, until it finally lands on a familiar cluster of twinkling lights — home.

a small, wistful smile makes itself home on matt’s face; his softened stare lingering on that patch of precious sky. whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder might have been telling the truth. fondness or not, all matt really felt was a desire to go back to his family.

there’s still weeks left of negotiations, of planning, of possible fighting, left to do on this planet. and with things going the way they had been, he wouldn't be making a return anytime soon. and with that thought a wave of unpleasant emotions start to bubble forth. matt rests his gaze on the twinkling of lights in the sky for a moment longer before closing his eyes.

'breathe in, breathe out. exhale the emotion into the force and clear your head.' the smooth echoing of his father's teachings help him clear his head and heart. repeating the mantra and actions till he's settled and centered again. yet loneliness clings like tar against his rib cage. a deep longing that he can’t shake despite how he tries to rid himself of it.

aware the heaviness of his isolation won’t truly fade until he’s back in the safe and secure embrace of his family, matt returns his stare at the sky. his concentration on the stars never falters as he pulls out his comm and flicks to his contacts as the familiar tones of connection fills the quiet surrounding him.

he doesn’t have to wait long before the comm is answered. the quickness of it making his lips twitch up only to stretch into a wide, lopsided smile.

— @skysaunter asked : why did you call me?

warmth bubbles in his chest causing a small huff of laughter to escape him. “hi, papa.” matt hopes his jovial greeting reassures his father, answering the unspoken worry lacing luke’s inquiry — i’m safe, papa, i’m okay. no need to worry. “just missed you ‘s all,” is his sheepish reply

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (2)

May 1st, 2270

“Hello, Izuku.” “Hi, dad.” Izuku hadn’t exactly been dreading this conversation, but he hadn’t been looking forward to it either. He’d hoped his mom would do all the talking, having to break the news to his friends had been hard enough. For him. Most of them seemed to have gotten quite the kick out of it. “How are you? Your mother told me you’ve been having a rough couple of weeks.” “Mh.” “Still upset over that visit?” “Mh.” “Speak, son. Sulking doesn’t translate well over the phone.” His father chided gently.

Izuku sighed. “The doctor said I’m never going to get a quirk. I’m sorry.” “Whatever for? It’s not like you have any choice in the matter. Quirks are innate, surely you know that.” “Yes, I do.” Izuku said, staring at the paused frame of All Might’s debut video on the computer screen. The reflection of his own miserable face was superimposed with the triumphant silhouette of the hero. “But I’m sorry anyway. You have such a cool quirk… and mom’s useful too. I could become a great hero with one of them, but I’m never going to get any.” “Again, that’s none of your fault. And I wouldn’t be so sure of that anyway.” “Uh?” Izuku gulped, gripping the phone tightly. “Y-you don’t think I’d make a good hero?” “No, that’s not what I mean.” His father chuckled. “I mean that I wouldn’t lose hope just yet. You’re very young, there’s still plenty of time for your quirk to manifest.” “But the doctor said that all quirks appear before one is four years old. And I’m four. And I have the extra toe joint-” “Tsk! Some doctor they assigned you. As if one could unerringly guess the nature and development of something as unpredictable as a quirk with a single test. An x-ray, of all things. Ancient technology.” “The doctor said there was a study...” “I have an extra toe joint too, you know.” Izuku’s father laughed hearing his son’s surprised gasp. “Studies like the one your doctor mentioned draw conclusions based on the analysis of hundreds, thousands of cases. Those conclusions may hold true for the majority of them, but there are always outliers. Having that oh-so-precious joint and a quirk is indeed rare, but not unheard of.” “B-But…” Izuku’s eyes burned with the feeling of impending tears. He hadn’t expected his father’s reaction to be like this. No one had even remotely doubted the validity of the doctor’s opinion. No one. It almost hurt to hope. “I’m also too old…” “My own quirk didn’t show until I was… fifteen? Maybe sixteen. Way older than you are, anyway. Another important point to consider, don’t you think?” Izuku sniffled. Then cried, quietly. His father remained silent as the boy let the tears flow freely, wiping them on his arm now and then. There was a tangled ball of emotions deep in his chest, that he couldn’t quite unravel. After a couple of minutes though, the sobs abated and he felt better. Better than he had been feeling before his mom handed him the phone. “...Do you really think the doctor was wrong?” “You shouldn’t believe everything doctors tell you. My personal physician keeps calling me ‘the peak of biological and anthropological evolution’, but that’s because he’s been fishing for a raise for years. Clearly you’d expect a Darwinian champion to be able to walk under the sun without protection for more than five minutes without turning into a peeling tomato.” “Uh? Does that really happen to you?” “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that I’m albino? My skin is very sensitive to sunlight, and it burns easily. I have atrocious eyesight too.” “I didn’t know that.” Izuku winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry. That sounds terrible.” “Not nearly as much as you think. I have plenty of skills and tools at my disposal to compensate. It isn’t an inconvenience at all these days, although it did cause me some grief when I was a child.” His father’s tone got softer. “Sometimes it does feel like our bodies are our own worst enemies, doesn’t it?” Izuku hummed in assent, very much agreeing with the sentiment. “I’m happy it doesn’t hurt you any more.” “And I’m glad you didn’t inherit this nuisance from me.” A sudden thought made its unwelcome way in Izuku’s head. “If… If I didn’t inherit your skin and eyes… maybe I won’t inherit your quirk either…” “Izuku.” His father’s tone was kind but firm. There were times when his presence, even just through his voice, felt way more real and solid than that of many people Izuku habitually shared a room with. “Your ability will emerge one day, I’m positive of that. Just give it time and don’t agonize over it.” Izuku nodded, even though he realized that wouldn’t translate well over the phone either. “...Okay.” “Now, what else have you been up to in this past month, other than brooding over a criminally incompetent diagnosis?” Not much, honestly, but Izuku told him anyway. As he kept chatting, his heart grew lighter than it had been in weeks. Mom did always say that his father was a good listener.

July 1st, 2272 “They were talking about it on TV yesterday. It’s an old incident from some years ago, before All Might met Nighteye!” “I see...” “Not many people know about it, because there’s no villain involved, and villains make all the stories more interesting! But it’s a great story nonetheless!” Izuku rattled on enthusiastically, taking advantage of his father’s unresponsive compliance. “Uh-huh...” “So this boy was having some big troubles, I think, and he jumped into a river because he didn’t know what to do about them. But luckily All Might was around! Do you know what he did?” “He offered to cover all the expenses for the years of therapy the boy would need afterwards?” “Uh… They didn’t say that on TV. I don’t know. I think he just rescued him from the river.” “That doesn’t seem to address the underlying problem.” His father commented icily. “Daaad, you’re ruining the story.” Izuku chided him. “Anyway, the funny part is that this boy had a quirk that could turn water into vinegar, and he activated it in a panic while he was drowning.” “Mh. A peculiar quirk...” “So All Might got all drenched in vinegar when he dove in to save him. He made this very silly face in front of the cameras, it was great! And when the boy apologized for causing trouble, guess what All Might told him?” “I’m sorry I’m the living embodiment of this unfair, hypocritical society that has driven you to the brink of despair?” “No. He said,” Izuku continued, breezing past his father’s petty remarks with practiced ease, “It is I who should thank you. My skin’s looking ten years younger now.” “Oh my God…” The man groaned, and a loud thunk-crash noise accompanied his words. “Oh, come on!” Izuku giggled, covering his mouth with his free hand. “It’s so funny!” “Just because they’re called ‘dad jokes’ doesn’t mean I’m legally obligated to laugh at them.” “But it is funny! All Might’s the funniest! Did you know that he just wrote a joke book? It’s called All Might’s Gags and Jokes: A Compendium. It already has amazing reviews! They say it’s warm and relatable and cy.. cyclical…” “He wrote a joke book. A veritable Renaissance man, this one...” His father muttered. Izuku heard something clink in the background. Probably the pieces of whatever his father dropped. “Mom says she’ll buy it for my birthday!” Izuku added, swinging his whole body on his chair in sheer excitement. “That is such a poor use of your remittance. I’ll need to have a couple of words with her…” “It’s for my education!” Izuku enunciated with solemnity, straightening his posture. “There’s a whole chapter of American puns and word plays! It will help me learn English!” “If you want to learn English on your own so soon, please choose a decent source. Start with basic grammar and alphabet books, watch some subtitled shows and movies to get the hang of the correct pronunciation-” “I’m learning a lot from All Might already! The catchphrase he used when he was in college in California was I am here! When he’s surprised, he says Oh my goodness! When he doesn’t believe something, he says Nonsense!” Izuku parroted, taking great care of imitating All Might’s confident, surprised and disbelieving expressions respectively. They would be lost on his father, but he needed to practice them anyway. “If that’s a good American accent, I’m the next Symbol of Peace.” “Dad.” Izuku said, suddenly very serious. He had a very important question to ask, and it had been a long time coming. “Why do you always make fun of him? It’s like… It’s almost like you don’t like him at all.” The words sounded so wrong he almost wasn’t brave enough to say them. Izuku would have been mortified if anyone had moved such an accusation on him. “I suppose he has a sort of… charisma about him.” His father admitted ruefully. “I can’t say it strikes any chords with me though.” “Are you just jealous of him?” Izuku asked shrewdly. “Kacchan also talks a lot of trash about All Might, but it’s obvious he’s just jealous. It’s all right if you are, though, I mean, he’s so-” “I’m this close to hanging up, Izuku.” “But- but how can you not like All Might?! Everyone likes All Might! Boys and girls, children and grown-ups! From age 0 to 100!” “...I guess I just don’t fit the target demographic then.” Izuku huffed. “You’re so boring, dad.” “Says the one who’s been talking my ear off about the same topic for the last forty minutes.” The boy frowned, nibbling at his lip. “...Sorry. Am I annoying you?” “I’ll admit I may have hit my monthly tolerance limit of All Might trivia. Don’t worry about it though.” Izuku did in fact stop worrying, his father’s amusement clearly detectable in his voice. “I think I’ll be able to bear with your unabashed enthusiasm until you hit your mandatory disillusioned teenage phase. Then we’ll see if that obnoxiously cheery act of his will still resonate with you.”

June 2nd, 2274 “His normal body temperature is about two degrees higher than the average. Around 38-39 °C.” “And what can you deduce from that?” Izuku’s father goaded. The boy stared at the scribbles in his notebook in deep thought. “Uhm… that it’s difficult to tell if he has a fever or not?” His father laughed, but not unkindly. “I wouldn’t think so. You just said yourself that that is his normal temperature. Therefore, I wouldn’t call Endeavor’s doctor unless his thermometer read more than 39.5 °C, probably.” “Right.” Izuku nodded. That was obvious, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he understood that on his own? His father didn’t seem to mind his blunder though. “Try again.” “I think…” Izuku’s eyes were just about to bore a hole into his rough sketch of the hero’s costume. He gave up after the silence started to make him uncomfortable though. “...I don’t know. What can I deduce from that?” “Hm… You did bring up an interesting point. Do you know how fever works, Izuku?” “Yeah. Your body temperature rises when you’re sick. If it rises too much, you can get in serious trouble, you could even die. It never really gets that bad though.” “But why does it rise? What does your body accomplish by doing that?” “Uh…” Izuku frowned. He was sure he’d read or heard something about that, but the details escaped him at the moment. “To help you fight off the sickness, right? You feel worse at first, but it actually helps you get better.” “Exactly. Most bacteria and viruses that infect men thrive and multiply optimally at around 37 °C, which is the average person’s normal body temperature. But the growth of these microorganisms is hindered when the environment gets too hot. That is the principle that makes fever useful for humans. As your body gets hotter, it debilitates the invasors, so that your immune system can remove them more easily.” “..Oh.” It was a pity that his father called him only once a month, Izuku could have easily listened to him for hours every day. He always had so many interesting things to say about so many different subjects, and he always exposed them so neatly. “So. Can you deduce anything new now?” “Uh, uhm… He… I guess he...” Izuku snapped out of his reverie. Right, this was a conversation, not a lesson. He went over the new information in his head as quickly as he could. Higher temperature than normal... Fever... Microorganisms... Immune syst- Oh! “He heals quicker than- no, wait! He doesn’t get sick at all! Because he’s always too hot for the microorganisms! They can’t grow in his body!” “Excellent reasoning!” His father’s warm praise made Izuku’s chest swell with pride. “Obviously he isn’t completely immune to any and all infections, there are lots of exceptions to the mechanism I just explained to you. But yes, I do believe it’s safe to assume that our esteemed Flame Hero suffers from the occasional seasonal maladies far less often than the general population, if at all.” “That’s so cool…” Izuku immediately added the new data to his notes, almost breaking the tip of the pencil in his enthusiasm. “Is that what you wanted me to deduce? Or did you explain that just because I brought up the fever thing?” “I was actually thinking of something else. But, on second thought, it may be too technical a topic for an eight-year-old.” “...Can you tell me about it anyway?” “Of course.” Izuku would never not be grateful for the patience his father had, never denying him any clarification on anything. He was just about the only adult who never got tired of his questions. Even his mom sometimes hid her fatigue behind a mildly insincere I don’t know. “High heat isn’t exactly conductive to the activity of human cells either. That’s one of the reasons why you feel exhausted and achy when you have a fever, your body struggles to keep doing what it’s supposed to do above its normal temperature range. But Endeavor not only is at peak condition at 39 °C, he can also withstand open flames with a much higher temperature. This suggests that his cells must be fundamentally different from the average person’s on a biochemical level, that his quirk must provide some particularly efficient cellular mechanism to prevent heat damage. One example might be some dedicated enzymes to protect proteins from denaturation, but now I’m entering mere speculation.” A pause. “Did you follow me?” “...Kind of.” Izuku said, kind of lying but not entirely. He had followed most of that. He scrawled and circled a couple of terms he hadn’t grasped - Biochemical - Enzymes - Denaturation - on the page. He didn’t want to waste his father’s time by asking him to explain the meaning of words he could easily look up later on his own. “The gist of it is that Endeavor’s Hellflame has at least two facets. Not only ‘creating fire’, but also ‘not incinerating himself’. The first trait would be a fatal liability without the second.” “Got it!” Izuku cheered. Now that he had understood completely. “You sure know a lot about quirks, dad! Like, a lot! About anything, really!” “For the sake of intellectual honesty, it must be said that it isn’t difficult to impress a primary schooler.” His father laughed. “I’m just older than you.” “How much older?” Izuku asked, realizing for the first time that no one had ever told him his father’s age. “Oh, by a lot. Centuries.” Izuku cackled. “You can’t be that old. You still go to work. Our neighbors are 80 and they’re already retired.” “I do try to keep a youthful outlook on life. But yes, quirks fascinate me quite a bit. And they make for the perfect topic to distract you from your incessant yapping about All Might.” “Speaking of All Might-” “No, I-” His father sighed theatrically. “I just walked into this one, didn’t I?” “Yep.” Izuku grinned. “What about his quirk? Do you know anything about it? He never gives straight answers when people ask him about it…” “That may be the single sign of intelligence he’s ever displayed. The more your enemies know about your quirk, the easier it is for them to find your weaknesses. I’m surprised the other pro heroes aren’t as reserved.” “I wonder why All Might does that, though. His quirk is… pretty obvious.” Izuku pondered. “It just makes him strong. Very strong. Like, the strongest ever. But that’s it.” “Allegedly, yes. But as you noticed yourself, if raw power was all there was to it, there would be no reason to skirt around the issue in interviews, no?” “So there must be something else… What do you think it might be?” “I think it would be no less than cruel to deprive you of the thrill of carrying out your own research.” Izuku let out a dissatisfied moan, and his father chuckled. “You are already so very proficient at it. Your mother told me you’ve already filled a whole notebook with hero and quirk analyses.” “Oh, ehr… It’s just stuff I read here and there…” “Mh, I’ve heard enough of your ‘stuff’ to know that there’s more than random factoids in that head of yours. In fact…” Izuku felt his cheeks warm for the compliment. “I think you’ve gotten old and judicious enough to be trusted with my emergency number.” “Uh? What emergency number?” “It’s a phone number I’ll always answer to, on any day and at any hour, in case you may find yourself in a bad situation. Hopefully you’ll never need it, but better safe than sorry. Now…” His father’s voice raised slightly, drowning out Izuku’s impending interruption. “Can I rely on the fact that you are aware that desperately wanting to tell me that All Might saved a kitten from a meteor does not qualify as an emergency?” Izuku pouted. “I know what an emergency is, dad.” “Good. Ask your mother to give you the number then. Don’t save it on your phone or write it anywhere. Memorize it, and be responsible with it.”

December 3rd, 2275 Sorry for the long silence. I had an accident on the job and I won’t be able to speak clearly for a while. We can talk with the included devices. Use your ring finger to activate them. Usual days, usual hours. Hisashi That short note held the first words Izuku had received from his father in the last five months. The first month he hadn’t phoned, Izuku had felt slightly disappointed, but understanding. His father was a busy man, surely something very important must have been requiring his full-time attention. It was fine, Izuku was confident he could manage to sweet-talk him into a double-length call the following month to make up for that. The second month, he had started to worry. His mother hadn’t heard from his father either. It was unprecedented not to hear from him for such a long time. Since Izuku could remember, his father had never skipped one of their monthly calls. They often talked on the first day of every month, and he kept trying to contact them exactly once each following day if his calls were missed. He never failed to reach them past the third day. He always called from a hidden number, so trying to get hold of him was not an option. The third month, Izuku’s mother had decided to use the emergency number. She hadn’t been able to get through to her husband, but the polite colleague of his who had picked up had reassured her that he was indisposed but overall fine, and would get in touch with them as soon as possible… which could still take a while. Curiously, the coworker had also instructed them to collect a sample of their fingerprints and send them to a specific address. Izuku had been mystified by the request, but his mother had readily agreed, commenting that it was “not the strangest thing Hisashi’s ever asked for”. The silent wait that followed had been a little uneasy, but not harrowing. Izuku and his mother reread the message a couple of times before opening the box they’d just been delivered. Inside were only the two mentioned devices with their respective chargers, snuggled among waterproof packaging and stuffing. They looked very much like ordinary mobile phones, except they had no buttons or ports on any side. Some quick experimentation proved that they could be turned on simply by pressing the indicated finger on the touchscreen. The display showed a very minimalistic chat interface, with a fixed red dot on the top left corner. No amount of tapping on the screen could bring up the virtual keyboard though, which was puzzling. There was no way to access the rest of the phone’s functions, if it even had any. It was the third day of the month, so technically still within the familiar communication window. Izuku kept poking and prodding at the buttonless phone for the whole afternoon until eventually, shortly after dinner, the red dot at the top of the chat became green. A minute later, a message popped up. Hello, Izuku. Izuku almost dropped his cup of hot chocolate in excitement, which was quickly replaced by frustration because he still couldn’t type anything in any way. How was he supposed to- Speak. I can hear you. “...Oh! Nice!” Izuku exclaimed. “Hi, dad! How are you? What happened?” I’ve been better. I got decked by a hysterical ape. Izuku frowned. “That’s not funny. Mom and I were very worried.” That wasn’t really a joke. What? What even- “...How? Did you break into a zoo or something…?” Sorry, you’re right. Let me rephrase. I had a violent disagreement with a brute. “Oh…” Izuku was about to ask for further explanations but he waited. The three bouncing dots at the bottom of the screen signalled that his father was still writing. We will have to communicate like this for a while. I hope it isn’t too much of an inconvenience for you. Judging by how long it took him to type even the shortest messages, Izuku thought it was going to be much more of an inconvenience for his father. He felt sorry for him. “No, not all. Is it… is it really bad? Shouldn’t you come home so we can help you get better? It sounds like you won’t be able to work anyway…” I’ll receive better medical treatment here, and I can still get some work done while I recuperate. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll recover fully sooner or later. Izuku picked at the lint of his blanket, choosing his words carefully. “You could… come home anyway. Even if you could work. When you’re feeling a little better. So we could spend some time together.” The three bouncing dots reappeared, but Izuku kept talking. He already knew what his father’s answer was going to be, but he wanted to take advantage of the delay to get a few more words in. “Some of my friends have parents that work far from home too. They’re away a lot, but… they do come back to visit sometimes. Usually for the holidays. At least… At least once.” At least his friends had actually met their fathers once in their whole lives, Izuku completed only in his head. You know how things stand. My job doesn’t afford me this kind of free time. “...What do you even do that won’t let you ever do anything?” Izuku muttered, out of sheer petulance. That was another familiar point of contention, to which his father replied with the same, word-for-word justification he always used. Every detail concerning my activities is classified by the government. We’ve been over this. Don’t be childish. And that was usually the end of it. Any further questioning after the ‘classified’ thing invariably turned Izuku’s father into a slippery wall of smooth deflections. But, considering the current situation, Izuku felt like he could get away with a little more nagging, if he played his cards right. “I know you can’t say anything. But how about…” He physically leaned forwards, trying not to let his tension seep through his voice. “How about I try to deduce something? About your job. Just… for fun.” No new message showed up, not even the typing dots. Izuku decided that it was as much of an approval as he was going to get, so he started to voice his thoughts as they formed. “...Your job is classified by the government. So it’s important, very important, so important that other people can’t know about it.” When he was very young, Izuku had obviously interpreted it as irrefutable proof that his father must be some sort of secret agent. He had exposed his conclusion to Kacchan and his gang once. They had… not-so-respectfully disagreed. Izuku had never brought up the matter with them afterwards. “Your note said that you got hurt on the job. So someone you know from work punched you so hard that, even after five months, you still can’t talk well.” Izuku paused. That was… a scary idea. It dawned on him, for the first time since the beginning of this whole ordeal, that his father may have really dodged a bullet there. What kind of a brute could possibly want to injure someone that much…? Surely a criminal… A villain, maybe…? “Your job is dangerous, and it leaves you almost no free time. It also pays well.” That last item was admittedly a shot in the dark, Izuku didn’t really know much about money handling. But he had noticed that his mother never denied him a gift or a treat on the grounds of its cost (his vast collection of All Might memorabilia was a testament to that), like so many of his friends’ relatives were wont to do. She didn’t need a job herself, and Izuku remembered overhearing a conversation she had with Kacchan’s mom where she had said that they were ‘well provided for’. “You know a lot about a lot of stuff, especially about quirks and heroes. You know a lot of things about quirks and heroes that I couldn’t find anywhere on the internet.” Izuku paused, racking his brain for anything else that stuck out. Before he could come up with more points to make, his father finally wrote back. You sure put some thought into this. I’m impressed. The lack of reprimands was an encouragement in its own right. Now came the hard part. These were all facts that he already knew, now he had to put them together… and no matter how much he tried to come up with different possibilities, there was only one explanation that rang true in Izuku’s mind. “Dad… are you some sort of… undercover hero?” Izuku waited with baited breath for the dancing dots to turn into a complete message. Definitely not. ...Aw, shoot. Although I guess I do happen to deal with heroes quite often in my line of work. Izuku gasped. That was the first real piece of information his father had ever shared with him about his job! And wow, he worked with heroes! And whatever support he lent them had to be pretty vital if he was always so busy and tight-lipped. “So you’re like… a policeman? An informant that tracks down villains for the heroes to catch? Or an engineer bound by trade secret? Or-” Enough, Izuku. I’m supposed to be resting. I don’t think being given the third degree by my own son counts as such. Izuku deflated. So close to the truth, and yet so far… Maybe he could manage to get some other clue out of his father later. But… there was one more thing he simply had to ask. “...Have you ever met All Might?” I’m just going to ignore you after this. Well, it had been worth a try. Izuku finally relented, reasonably satisfied with the result of his investigation. “Okay, okay. Sorry. No more questions. And no All Might stuff. Not that I have much to tell you about him. He hasn’t really been around lately.” Hasn’t he, now? Uh, odd. It wasn’t like his father to miss an opportunity to dodge All Might gossip. Izuku supposed there’d be no harm in taking advantage of this atypical spark of curiosity. “Yeah. It’s been like this for a few months. Rumors say he’s abroad, working on some large scale mission. Something very secret, that’s why there are no articles on him in newspapers from other countries either.” I wasn’t aware of this. That’s very interesting. Although I couldn’t imagine anyone less suited to hushed-up operations. Izuku couldn’t help but snort. In light of the recent revelation, he wondered if his father was so unapologetically critical of All Might because he had worked with him and they hadn’t gotten along… which seemed kind of impossible. How could All Might be the unpleasant type of coworker? Or maybe his father really was just jealous because he couldn’t work with All Might often enough. A sudden thought occurred to the boy. “...Sorry, I guess you don’t want to hear about hero stuff now that you’re, uh… on forced vacation.” Actually, I’d love to. I’ve been a little out of the loop lately, I need to catch up with the news anyway. Fire away all the information you have. Izuku smiled. “Even about All Might?” Especially about All Might.

[lennonmccartneystuff]

I Was There For You in Your Darkest Times

Summary: Cool and confident 16 year old John Lennon meets a shy and broken Paul McCartney, 15, still reeling from his mother's death. When John loses his mother a year later Paul helps him through it.

Pairing: John x Paul (platonic)

Warnings: like one curse word

Author's note: I'm so excited this is my first fanfiction! Overarching note for all of my works...I don't own the Beatles haha

John Lennon rushed down the hallway on his way to class at Quarry Bank High School. He bumped into a boy slowly crossing the corner. He knew he recognized the kid, it was Paul McCartney. Something about Paul always confused him; he got a vibe from him like something was wrong but he couldn't figure out what. People made fun of him a lot and John didn't really engage with them because something about Paul made him feel like he didn't need more problems.

They collided and Paul fumbled to pick up his books trying to spit out an apology but just sounding muffled and anxious.

"I- sorry I didn't um, I didn't mean to"

"No worries man, my fault." John said while handing him his books and looking at Paul for a moment, trying to read him.

The boys went their separate ways heading to their own classes but John couldn't get Paul out of his mind for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

"Had Paul always been so nervous and quiet?" He thought to himself on the way home. Granted, he didn't know Paul personally but he had seen him around the last few years and something had definitely changed about him as of late.

John sat at home fiddling with his guitar and writing the first few verses to a song about a mystery boy (obviously influenced by his curiosity about Paul's story). He always turned to music when he couldn't get something off his mind. Sure, it wasn't necessarily a quick fix but it helped.

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

For the next couple of days John just kept watching Paul. Not to be like a stalker or anything but he wanted to kinda know if he was ok. Problem is you don't just approach someone you've spoken to like twice to ask if they're going through something so he was at a loss.

Anyway, John had a free period so he headed down to the auditorium following a brief stop at his locker to get his guitar. He always went there there to practice in peace since it was empty during fifth period.

When he turned the corner he could swear he heard a voice but couldn't figure out who it was. He peered into the room and saw Paul McCartney huddled on the floor clearly trying not to cry.

"Hey man, are you ok?"

*sniff* "I'm fine, just leave me alone."

"I'm not going to tell anyone about this so if you want to tell me what's wrong, you can."

"I- um... today's a year since my mom passed away."

"Paul. I-I'm so sorry."

"Breast cancer"

"I had no idea"

"Is that a guitar?" Paul looked over to John's hand.

"Yeah! Do you play?"

"Yes! And bass too, that's my favorite."

"no way that's sick. We should play some time. Come by after school?"

"Yeah! I'm down, that sounds fun."

The bell rang and the boys went their separate ways; John with a new understanding of what Paul was going through and Paul happy that someone wanted to talk to him about something other than how he had been coping for the last year.

At the end of the day John and Paul made eye contact and headed to their own houses aknowledging that they were going to get together later.

Later they hung out at John's house playing around different musical snippets. John, with a little hesitation at the thought of bringing of bringing up mothers, answered Paul's question saying that it was his mom that got him into music and bought him his first guitar

"That's awesome! Does your dad play?"

"Well I uh, don't know my dad so I couldn't tell you." John chuckled nervously.

"Oh I'm sorry."

"Nah it's no big deal, he's a piece of shit anyway. My mom's the great one, I wish I saw her more often."

"Why don't you? If you don't mind me asking."

"She's actually not that far. It's just that she's with this guy and my Aunt Mimi wouldn't let me live with them cause it was too cramped or whatever, so here I am. We still talk often though"

"that's good" Paul said wistfully.

"Oh sorry, we can change the subject"

Paul nodded.

The rest of the night went on and Paul left a couple of hours later to go home.

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

For the next few weeks John and Paul hung out at each other's houses almost every day after school just to play guitar and do homework and stuff. John noticed a change in Paul's disposition, he was still really hurt over his mom and that wasn't going to go away, but he seemed even close to happy for the first time since he lost her. Apparently Jim McCartney noticed it too because one night he pulled John aside before the two boys went up to practice and thanked him for being there for Paul. Of course John wasn't doing it for thanks, he really like hanging out with Paul, but he was glad it was doing something good.

One night at John's house Paul quietly brought up that he had been working on writing some original music.

"I um, wrote some lyrics this past week. I don't know if you want to hear them. Maybe you can help me come up with the riff for transition from verse to chorus."

"Yeah of course, let me here 'em"

"Well, I woke up late this morning my head was in a whirl only then I realized I lost my little girl oh, oh, oh, oh. Well, her clothes were not expensive her hair didn't always curl I don't know why I love her but I love my little girl oh, oh, oh, oh."

"And then I think the chorus is going to be: Well, gather 'round people let me tell you the story the very first song I wrote. But I don't know if that sounds stupid or where to go from there and I need help with that transition."

"Wow- the uh, the lyrics are beautiful, Paul."

"Thanks. Any advice for those parts?"

"C to Am?"

"let's give that a shot."

John and Paul were constantly with each other at school, always hanging out at home too and never far from a guitar. They quickly grew to be very good friends and Paul hung out with John's other friends in the group.

The school year was winding down. John and Paul lived pretty close to each other so they planned on basically spending the whole summer playing music together with the rest of the guys. On the last day of school they said goodbye but of course they weren't apart for long. For the entire month of June Paul was either with John and his other friends or with George.

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

The middle of July rolled around and suddenly Paul didn't really hear from John and he couldn't figure out what was up. They didn't have a fight and it seemed that none of the other guys had talked to him either.

After a few days of not wanting to smother John during whatever was going on Paul had to check on him so he went to his house to at least see if Mimi could tell him anything.

"Hey is John around?"

Mimi stood in the doorway with tears in her eyes, it looked like she had been crying for days

"Is everything ok?"

"Let me see if he'll come talk to you."

"John? Paul's downstairs. You should really talk to him if you're ready, he's worried."

"I'm coming. I'm going to tell him."

John walks down the stairs into the living room where Paul is waiting near the doorway.

"Hey John. Are you ok?"

"Let's take a walk, I need to talk to you."

"Is everything alright?"

They walked for a moment and John readied himself to say what he was about to say. Paul was the first person he told and he was trying to prepare himself even though no amount of waiting would make this any easier.

"My uh, my mom was killed a couple of days ago, died in a car crash." John said, barely above a whisper.

Paul froze. He didn't have specific proof that they were in this part of their friendship yet but he had to go with his gut. He leaned in and gave John a hug and they just stood there for a moment.

When they pulled away Paul took a look at John while he wiped his eyes. He had never seen him like this before. John was strong and nothing ever really got to him but he had never looked so broken. Paul remembered that feeling unfortunately and while his mom passed away under different circumstances he still knew all too well the pain of losing someone so important so young.

John was never one for showing his emotions, even to his best friend. Though if he had to cry in front of someone it wouldn't have been anyone else.

Paul tried his hardest to keep John out of the really dark place he found himself in last year before they met. The trauma that comes from losing a parent so young will never be erased and there was nothing anyone could do to make that better but Paul's priority was keeping his best friend from being consumed by this. He knew what it was like to lose yourself and he wasn't going to let that happen to John.

Eventually John told the rest of his friends what had happened, with Paul by his side for moral support, but he didn't really hang out much the rest of the summer. The only person he ever really saw was Paul because he wouldn't leave him alone for too long. John wasn't the best with words so he didn't know how to say it, but he didn't know what he would've done without Paul that summer.

"Are you ready?" Paul asked as he turned to John before looking at the big doors to Quarry Bank High School.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The two made their way into school with a new closeness between them, an understanding of what it's like to experience living hell and survive it.

That shared experience was part of what brought John to immediately include Paul in the lineup for The Quarrymen, a group initially consisting of John, Pete, Eric, Colin, Rod, and Len. The group evolved a year later when, at Paul's request, George was added.

This gave John and Paul something to distract themselves with and direct their attention to instead of how much they missed their moms. The Quarrymen performed at dances, school events, etc. When they moved in the direction of rock and roll, only John, Paul, and George remained.

If it wasn't for John and Paul meeting and helping each other through the hard times it would've been so much harder to get to the good ones.

[ladyxxdaydream]

a year-in-review meme - for writers!

I thought up this writing meme for fic writers who might have been staring at the artists having their lovely and well-deserved collages of their work through the year - and wanted to join in the fun! also this works as a great reminder for those of you (and me) who’ve been thinking that they haven’t been writing as much as they want to, and allows you to go back to enjoy your old fic ;D

Rules: pick your favourite sentence from a work you posted / wrote during a month of 2020! if you didn’t write anything in any particular month, don’t worry! tell us what you were doing or use it as free space for runner-up sentences. after that, tag 8 people or more to do the meme!

That being said, here’s mine:

Tagged by: @rikacain !!

I’m tagging -- @flailinginlove @aviss @kiitsvne @stupidbadgers and @tea-blitz who doesn’t use tumblr anymore but WHATEVER. and anyone else who wants to do it! <3

~~~

JAN: (from Heavy Weight)

“Iruka felt Kakashi’s eye on him. Most people feared the Sharingan, and for good reason, but Iruka feared his real eye, his own eye. It had a way of seeing straight past Iruka’s defenses, no dōjutsu required, and deep into his soul.“

FEB: (from Old Pine)

“Do you want children?” Iruka asked, feeling like the timing was right.

Kakashi was quiet for a few moments. Iruka had learned to read Kakashi’s silences for what they were. It wasn’t hesitation like he had initially thought. Kakashi simply liked to think things through before answering immediately. Iruka liked that about him.

“I think we have four already,” Kakashi said, eyeing Sasuke, Naruto, Ino, and Sakura through the glass door.

Iruka laughed, but refrained from clarifying. He knew Kakashi understood what he meant and would answer him shortly. Iruka had also learned that Kakashi had a tendency to be indirect, before he got around to what he actually wanted to say.

MARCH: (from Mouthful)

“So, Kakashi.”  Iruka said, unable to stand still any longer.  “We both like what we see. Now what?”

 He wasn’t usually this forward, but he was feeling it tonight. All of this playful banter was riling him up—it was his favorite way to flirt.

 “I like a man whose direct,” Kakashi said, shifting his stance to lean an elbow on the table. “But hmm,” he hummed. “I don’t know.”

 He gave Iruka a seemingly bored look, as if the obvious invitation to leave together was lost on him.

 “Well, I like a man whose decisive, so I guess that rules you out.”

 Kakashi let out a hard, surprised laugh. He downed the rest of his beer, and took Iruka by the hand, pulling him out of the bar without a word.

APRIL: (from A New Chapter)

 “I don’t know how to put this,” Sakumo started, “but… what the hell is that?”

 Kakashi looked at where his Father was pointing.

 “Uh… a diaper…?” Kakashi guessed, not sure where this was going. They had about a million others, in every color and pattern you could imagine, folded and stacked in the closet. Iruka wanted to go the re-usable route, and several of his students mother’s were eager to gift them. Kakashi had been less than thrilled by the extra laundry.

“Yes. It’s a diaper, Kakashi. Very good. Tell me, did you have both eyes closed when you put it on?”

MAY: (From Cake Substitution No Jutsu)

 “What’s this?” Iruka asked as Kakashi entered the kitchen, a fully dressed Tomo whizzing past them both.

 “Ah, it’s a backpack,” Kakashi said, crossing over to Iruka excitedly. “I saw it on display in a shop window while doing Gai’s scavenger hunt. Its arms and legs are the straps, so when you wear it, it looks like it’s riding on your back.”

 Iruka smiled, turning it around in his hands, noticing the zipper and a few pockets.

 “That’s actually pretty ador—”

 Iruka stopped speaking. The tail was tightly curled up inside plastic casing still.

 “Kakashi,” Iruka said, feeling his eyebrow twitch. “Is this… is this a leash?”

 “No. It’s a Puppy Pal… with an exceptionally long tail.”

“It’s a leash,” Iruka deadpanned. “A leash for a  child.”

 “You put Tomo inside a barrier the other day as a playpen,” Kakashi said, a matter of factly. “Why can’t I have some help controlling her?”

“That’s… that’s different!” Iruka exclaimed, feeling his cheeks heat in contradiction. “Would you like it if I put  you  on a leash, Kakashi?”

 Iruka regretted it the second it came out of his mouth. He could practically see the wolfish grin forming beneath Kakashi’s mask.

JUNE: (from Use Your Imagination)

They laid in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the night through the cracked window—distant cars on the street, a lone dog barking, upbeat music wafting from a floor below them.  

Kakashi never wished for time to stop. In fact, he tried to keep himself as busy as possible—he chose a career that ate up most of his life for a reason. But right now? He wished time didn’t exist, hyperaware of how quickly it would pass before Iruka was back on a plane tomorrow.

He traced circles into Iruka’s lower back, watching as the brown skin pressed against his broke out in a wave of goosebumps. Iruka shivered, and then shifted, and Kakashi wondered if he was falling asleep.  

He selfishly continued his adorations, wanting to keep Iruka in this realm with him for a little while longer. He expanded his rake, sliding his fingers up Iruka’s spine, skirting around his scar, and back down again.

Kakashi wasn’t one to believe in divine intervention, or soulmates. He’d acted in enough corny films to almost make him hate the notion entirely. But the fact that a man as perfect as Iruka had come into his life so serendipitously—and just as scarred as he was—was something he couldn’t overlook.

It made Kakashi’s heart ache with want, before that ache traveled down, and curled into his gut.

JULY: (from Love Me As You Are)

“And then you demeaned their lives by calling them your soldiers—”

 “—is that not what they are?!” Kakashi cut across him, getting upset. “You’re as much a part of this system as I am, sensei! We both know the truth of it, whether we like it or not. I just called it by it’s name.”

“But they’re people too, Kakashi! Kids. They’re so much more than soldiers…”

“That’s not how I was treated,” Kakashi said before he could catch himself.

 Iruka’s mouth fell open with a punched sound.

 “Kakashi…”

 His tone was soft and free of the anger it held a moment ago.

 “Forget I said that,” Kakashi said, turning away, his cheeks heating up—the last thing he wanted was Iruka’s pity. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No,” Iruka said, shaking his head as he took a step towards him. “I’m not going to forget you said that. It does matter because  you matter.  You deserved to have somebody stand up for you too, Kakashi. I’m so sorry Konoha failed you.”

 Kakashi’s eyes burned with tears—he bit his tongue, refusing to let them fall. Those words pierced him straight through the heart. It was everything he never knew he needed to hear.

AUG:

um I didn’t write anything this month because my wife and I separated annnd my whole life was uprooted as I moved to a different country ksjdhgkdsj

SEPT: (from I’ll Fall, If You Do)

Their relationship was going really well. There were days where Kakashi still turned him away, usually corresponding with the mornings he had therapy. It was frustrating, because Iruka just wanted to be there for him, for Kakashi to open up to him completely, but he didn’t push. He knew that would only make it worse. They didn’t fight anymore, but Iruka regularly had to correct the language Kakashi used towards himself, and sometimes it was irritating for the both  of them.

But mostly… it was amazing. Their chemistry was incredible. Electric. And not just in the bedroom—they were never far from each other, drawn in like magnets, grounded by a simple touch or brush of hands. Kakashi hadn’t even left the room twenty minutes ago, and already Iruka felt the pull.

He jumped up from his seat and went to go find him.

OCT: (From Language Gap)

Iruka glanced out the bus window, his body instinctively knowing where they were about to pass. The building was still empty twenty years later, the brick still scorched, and Iruka’s nightmares were still plagued by the fire despite not being there when it broke out. He’d been sent on a delivery on foot — one steaming container of karē udon — two blocks away. He delivered to the same old lady everyday, and she always kept him longer than necessary, pressing sweets into his palm. When he had come back, the noodle shop was aflame. In his shocked state, he distantly heard something about a grease fire, before he was whisked away by the hand by his childhood friend Asuma, living with him and his father from that day on.

Iruka sighed and stood up, making his way towards the door since his stop was next. He really wished the city would do something about the building. Every time he saw it, it made him feel oddly exposed and vulnerable, like his past was staring straight at him.

He shook his head a little and stepped off the bus.

NOV: (From Brand New Sound)

Kakashi watched in stunned silence for a moment, trying to get his heartbeat under control as color effortlessly flowed from the artist’s hand onto the brick. Whoever this was, they had sort of become one of Kakashi’s heroes. People always said meeting your heroes was never a good idea—bound to be disappointing—because it brought them down to a human level.

But that was precisely what attracted Kakashi to this artist in the first place—the sheer, raw, humanness. The way they tackled hard emotions and vulnerability, baring everything through their work for others to see. It was honest and transformative, and Kakashi spent more nights than he could ever count wandering the streets when he couldn’t sleep, hoping to catch a mural he’d never seen before it was painted over. Sometimes he did, and sometimes he’d sit in front of ones he already knew and found new meaning in them.

DEC: (from Perks of Promotion)

“But why now?” Iruka insisted. “Why ask me out now? Right after I’ve made tokubetsu jounin? When we’ve known each other for years?”

 Oh.

Kakashi paused, the realization dawning on him. He didn’t blame Iruka for being suspicious of his intentions; he’d heard the way people said ‘the chuunin sensei’ or ‘the chuunin desk worker’ like it was some kind of insult. It always pissed him off.

Kakashi stared at his feet for a moment before lifting his head again, leveling Iruka with a serious stare. “Because I didn't think I’d live past 21. Because it took me an obscenely long time to become a barely functioning adult. Because I never had the guts before… I-I still don’t, not really, if you can’t tell by how much I’m fumbling around here,” he said with a nervous laugh.

[lastsonlost]

Seriously, what does this bitch have to do before people Stop defending her.

Amber Heard ridicules Johnny Depp for claiming he is a victim of domestic violence in an explosive tape recording, exclusively obtained by DailyMail.com

She says: 'Tell the world Johnny, tell them... I Johnny Depp, a man, I'm a victim too of domestic violence... and see how many people believe or side with you'

Heard adds: 'You're bigger and you're stronger... I was a 115lb woman... You're going to get up on the stand, Johnny, and say, ''she started it''? Really?' 

'I have never been able to overpower you... there's a jury and there's a judge will see that there's a very big difference between me and you' 

The divorcing couple spoke over the phone in June and July of 2016, with Heard ultimately yielding to Depp's plea to settle out of court for $7m 

Their truce crumbled in December 2018 when Heard wrote an op-ed saying she was a domestic violence victim, although not naming anyone 

Depp hit her with a $50m defamation suit, saying she implied he was the abuser, which caused him to lose his prized role of Captain Jack Sparrow

In their legal battle, both accused the other of domestic violence and  DailyMail.com published a recording in which Heard confessed to 'hitting' Depp

Amber Heard ridicules Johnny Depp for claiming he is a victim of domestic violence in an explosive tape recording obtained by DailyMail.com - telling the Pirates of the Caribbean actor: 'See how many people believe you.'

The estranged couple were barred from talking to one another in May 2016 when Heard filed for divorce and sought a restraining order to escape her 'abusive' A-lister husband.

But the pair continued to clash over the phone, arguing bitterly about who was responsible for the blood-curdling violence that marred their toxic 15-month marriage and accusing one another of leaking to the press, DailyMail.com can reveal.

It's unclear if Heard realizes she is being taped during the expletive-flecked, 30-minute recording, the second bombshell audio released exclusively by DailyMail.com in the space of a week.

You are f**king killing me. Your f**king people are trying to kill me,' complains father-of-two Depp, as he begs Heard to go through private mediation rather than thrashing things out in open court.

'You've turned me into a... my boy goes to school and has kids go, so your f**king dad's a wife beater?'

Tearful Heard denies pushing Depp, 56, 'under a bus' and accuses the actor's associates of circulating details to the press of her arrest record and lurid rumors she was a stripper.

The 33-year-old actress also rejects accusations that she instigated the wild, physical violence that she pinned on Depp in divorce papers,

suggesting a court would be unlikely to take the side of a man over a slender female.

The full list of audio clips can be found in the Daily Mail article.....

Part 2

Do you know I'm a 115, well not anymore, but I was a 115lb, almost 115lb woman,' Heard protests. Adopting a jeering tone, she says: 'You're going to get up on the stand, Johnny, and say, she started it? Really?'

The former lovebirds spoke several times on the phone throughout June and July of 2016, skirting the restraining order by having a family member initiate the calls, according to a well-placed source. 

Heard would ultimately yield to Depp's plea to settle out of court, retracting her allegations the following month as the pair announced a $7 million divorce settlement. 

Their marriage was 'intensely passionate and at times volatile, but always bound by love,' according to a joint statement issued on August 16, 2016. 

'There was never any intent of physical or emotional harm.' 

The truce crumbled in December 2018, however, when Heard penned an op-ed for the Washington Post lamenting her experiences as an alleged domestic violence victim, though never naming anyone. 

Heard is currently dating her new girlfriend Bianca Butti and was seen arriving at the 4th Annual Women's March in Downtown Los Angeles last month.

The actress has said she is bisexual and previously dated women, including photographer Tasya van Ree from 2008 to 2011.

Depp responded to Heard's op-ed last year with a $50 million defamation suit, saying the 'hoax' account implied he was the unnamed abuser and caused him to lose his prized role of Captain Jack Sparrow. 

'Ms. Heard is not a victim of domestic abuse; she is a perpetrator,' his suit alleges, accusing his ex-wife of manufacturing evidence and faking injury photos. 

Heard doubled down with a 300-page filing of her own, cataloging the years of abuse she suffered at the hands of 'the monster', whom she met on the set of The Rum Diary in 2011 and married in February 2015. 

The actress stood by those claims last week when DailyMail.com published a separate recording from October 2015 in which she confessed to 'hitting' Depp as well as throwing pots, pans and vases at him.

"I'm sorry that I didn't, uh, uh, hit you across the face in a proper slap, but I was hitting you, it was not punching you. Babe, you're not punched,' Heard says on the tape, recalling an incident the previous night.

It's understood that she and Depp routinely recorded conversations consensually during the breakdown of their marriage, paving the way for yet more bombshell recordings to emerge. 

The latest audio clip published by DailyMail.com begins with Depp imploring Heard to reach an out of court settlement rather than waging war in public.

It appears to have been taped at Depp's end of things and the conversation has already begun when the audio supplied to DailyMail.com begins.

'I've been through the f**king hurt. You've been through the f**king hurt. I love you more than anything in life,' he tells his soon-to-be ex-wife.

'I do not want to go into a f**king court with you. I do not want to f**king tarnish your name... I want this to be done peacefully, between us. 

'And if you don't like the way that mediation is going, take me back to court kid. Cause I can't. 'This is the last f**king chance Amber. This is it. Once I file those papers we don't turn around man.' 

Heard insists, however, that it's Depp's team who are refusing to mediate, refusing to sign a gag order and leaking damaging stories about her to the gossip site TMZ. 

'Everything has been a defensive move because I'm being called a liar and a gold-digger,' she says.

'And I am not lying about any of this s**t, and I am not after a dime of your money.'

Depp suggests the pair should write a 'mutual letter' declaring that the divorce will be settled privately.

'Listen to me,' he warns the Hollywood beauty. 'Defending yourself by throwing someone under the bus is not going to look good.'

Heard fires back: 'It's not about that. It would not be about me throwing you under the bus. 

'You know what it would be? It would be released through documented people, coming on the record, and, having the protection to do so, that haven't had yet. 

'It would be eyewitness statements. It would be evidence. Tons of it. And it would be through years.' 

Heard goes on to ridicule Depp's doubts over the facial injuries she turned up with at court when she applied for the restraining order on May 27, 2016.

She also claims to have a trove of incriminating texts, paraphrasing a message to her publicist Jodi Gottlieb ahead of an appearance on The Late Late Show with James Cordon: 'I think, I've had accident, um, I think I may have, I busted my nose and two black eyes tomorrow'.

She tells Depp: 'No one is going to believe that one of the two alternatives, that I'm in a fight club or I've been getting, going through hair and makeup. . .through all these years where I have corroborating text messages between people that match those dates of those time stamped validated photos.' 

Heard warns Depp that her lawyers are urging her to make a formal police statement, saying that a criminal prosecutor told her it was 'most solid evidence, case of domestic violence case we've ever seen'.

She declined to do so, however, because she did not want to hurt Depp further, 

Heard says, complaining that their public spat has already led to her receiving death threats. 

The blonde actress also denies that it was her who rang the cops during the May 21, 2016 dust-up that took place the day before she filed for divorce. 

Depp was accused of hurling a cellphone in Heard's face at their downtown Los Angeles loft but two LAPD officers later said in a deposition that they found nothing to suggest a crime took place.

The  actor-musician reminds Heard about an incident in which his building manager, Travis, had 'to come up and f**king pull me away from you' though it's not clear which incident Depp is referring to.

Heard also refers to Depp's security guards, 'who by the way,' she says 'have said to me multiple times that I am going to get killed.'

She adds: 'I'm sorry because the last time it got crazy between us I really did think I was gonna lose my life. And I thought you would do it on accident.

'And I told you that. I said oh my god, I thought the first time.' 

Depp replies: 'Amber, I lost a f**king finger man, c'mon. I had a f**king, I had a f**king mineral can, a jar, a can of mineral spirits thrown at my nose. ' 

Their exchange seems to refer to a violent incident that took place in Australia one month into their marriage in which Depp suffered a severed finger. 

He claimed his then-wife 'went berserk' when he asked her to sign a 'postnup' agreement, hurling a Vodka bottle at him which shattered on a marble counter-top and ripped off the tip of his finger. 

Heard maintains in court filings, however, that Depp cut the digit off himself during an argument while he was 'drunk and high on ecstasy.' 

'You can please tell people that it was a fair fight, and see what the jury and judge thinks. Tell the world Johnny, tell them Johnny Depp, I Johnny Depp, a man, I'm a victim too of domestic violence,' she says on the tape. 

'And I, you know, it's a fair fight. And see how many people believe or side with you.' Depp cuts in: 'It doesn't matter; fair fight my a**.' 

Heard replies: 'Because you're big, you're bigger and you're stronger. And so when I say that I thought that you could kill me, that doesn't mean you counter with you also lost your own finger. 

'I, I'm not trying to attack you here, I'm just trying to point out the fact of why I said call 911. Because I was, you had your hands on me after you threw a phone at my face. 

'And it's got crazy in the past, and I truly thought I need to stop this madness before I get hurt.' 

Seemingly stunned by his former flame's version of events, Depp can simply reply: 'Oh my god.'

He reminds his ex-wife that she will have to repeat her allegations under oath in court.

'Do you believe all this Amber? Do you believe all this,' Depp asks. 

'Yes, the f**k, yes, yes,' Heard replies.

'Do you believe you're an abuser? he asks. 'Do you believe you abused me physically?' 

Heard replies: 'Do you know I'm a 115, well not anymore, but I was a 115lb almost 115lb woman. . .have I ever been able to knock you off of your feet? Or knock you off balance?

'You're going to get up on the stand, Johnny, and say, ''she started it''? Really? I have never been able to overpower you that's the difference between me and you. . .and that's a difference, that's a whole world, and there's a jury and there's a judge will see that there's a very big difference between me and you.' 

Depp finally seems to lose his cool when his ex-wife accuses him of spreading rumors she was a stripper, snapping: 'I will f**king see you in court.' 

He adds: 'You don't want to make f**king nice nice? I'm trying. I'm trying. 

'But you know what? I loved you for so many f**king years but you know what? You didn't exist. You don't exist. You're not there. You're not there. 

'You are a f**king made up thing in my head. And I can't believe you are doing this to me.' 

The 31-minute recording ends with Depp saying he needs a moment to himself before a door can be heard slamming in the background. 

Heard has thus far failed to have her ex-husband's defamation case thrown out or moved from Virginia, where the Washington Post is based, to California. However she did succeed in having it pushed back from last December to August of this year.

Depp's attorney Adam Waldman confirmed the recorded conversation took place while Depp was subject to a restraining order but said Heard initiated the call.

'Ms Heard delivers a chilling message to Johnny Depp any real abuse survivor will instantly recognize: Nobody will believe you. So you better do what I want,' Waldman told DailyMail.com.

'Ms Heard may continue to masquerade as a 'survivor' but the audio tape speaks for itself.'

Heard legal team offered a radically different perspective when provided with a transcript of the tape recording by DailyMail.com, complaining the recording was taken without Heard's consent and was also 'doctored'.

DailyMail.com has decided to publish the audio in its entirety so readers can form their own opinions.

'The latest recording provided to the Daily Mail continues Mr. Depp's ongoing efforts to abuse Ms. Heard,' her spokeswoman said.

'On the transcript of this recording (which notes that it is only a portion of a longer conversation), Ms. Heard repeatedly makes it clear to Mr. Depp that he was physically violent and abusive, that she feared for her life, and that even Mr. Depp's own security guards told her that if she stayed in the relationship, 'she was going to get killed'.

'What is most important on the tape, however, is not what Mr. Depp says, but what he does not say - not once on the tape does he deny Ms. Heard's statements about his violent attacks and the damage they caused, including her broken nose and black eyes.

'In fact, Ms. Heard specifically recalls that during a portion of the conversation not provided to the Daily Mail, Mr. Depp asked Ms. Heard whether she was recording the call and when she answered that she was not, admitted that she was not lying about the fact that he had abused her. As a result, Mr. Depp's use of this doctored recording at this time is not only a fraud and a crime, but an act of desperation.'

Amber Heard's spokeswoman provided the following statement from Dr. Laura Brown, a trauma expert and former president of Society for the Psychology of Women:

'Abuse is attempting to control a victim by any means necessary, including pushing this kind of news story. It is not unusual for victims of physical and emotional abuse to respond by acting to defend themselves. 

'But because intimate partner violence is about coercion and control every bit as much as it is about acts of violence, abusers often respond to these acts of self-defense with attempts to reassert control. 

'They do so through attempts at coercion, which often include projecting accusations of abuse at their victims for having had the audacity to attempt to defend themselves. 

'It is not unusual for the perpetrator of intimate partner violence to try to use the self-defense responses of their targets to claim the mantle of victimhood for themselves. 

'This is classic DARVO- Defend, Avoid, Reverse Victim and Offender – the construct developed by Dr. Jennifer Freyd. 

'When society and the media buy into these false abuser narratives, they are enabling the perpetrator to re-abuse the victim. We should not be fooled by a DARVO narrative.'

From the audio conversation..

'You're going to get up on the stand, Johnny, and say, ''she started it''?' Amber Heard and Johnny Depp clash over the phone during divorce

JOHNNY DEPP: But I'm telling you now, if I file, if they file the f**king papers tomorrow, which means the s**t I've got to file before we go to court on Friday, if they file those papers, first of all, it's very bad for both of us. 

AMBER HEARD: Well, your people are not going to file anything that's bad for you, trust me. 

JD: No, no what you're saying, you've got to do something to protect yourself which means throwing me under the bus for the, some video about me beating you? 

AH: Not me. I have to respond. I mean I'll have to go and pursue, no I'll pursue the whole course of action, because here's what you don't understand. If, if we do this, and basically will know. I called my lawyers and I said why aren't we negotiating now, what's going on, where are we, and they're like everything's under court. 

JD: No, they won't settle. Your agents won't settle. Your lawyers won't settle baby. I'm telling you. 

AH: We want to mediate. We even have a mediator, found a mediator and everything. But that was all worked out. But the thing that Laura [Wasser, Depp's attorney] wouldn't agree to, she did not want to agree to a mutual gag order. That's the problem, she doesn't want the gag order, why Johnny? Why? Why wouldn't she? Why wouldn't she want both parties not to talk about this in the press?

AH: I just want you to know. I'm not doing anything and have not been doing any move. Look it up, the timeline. Nothing was on the offense. Everything has been a defensive move because I'm being called a liar and a gold-digger. And I am not lying about any of this s**t, and I am not after a dime of your money.

JD: It's hurting You. It's hurting You. And it's hurting me. But the worst f**king thing is (unintelligible). Do you want to go to court Amber? Seriously? Do you want to go to court with this? I'm offering you an opportunity for us to make this finish in peace. Peaceful, man. We walk away. You go do what you gotta do, I go do what I gotta do. I, I, I've been through the f**ing hurt. You've been through the f**king hurt. I love you more than anything in life. I do not want to go into a f**king court with you. I do not want to f**king tarnish your name. I do not want to f**king tarnish. I don't want nothing. I want this to be done peacefully, between us. And if you don't like the way that mediation is going, take me back to court kid. Cause I can't. This is the last f**king chance Amber. This is it. Once I file those papers we don't turn around man. I know you hate me, and I know you whatever, I'm telling you now, there's no call, it doesn't need to happen like this. Please, for f**ks sake trust me man.

JD: Continuing through court is going to end up nothing but bad for you, and for me. It's just going to be bad. In any case, no matter whether we ruin each other or not, it's going to be f**king heartbreaking, it's terrible. Let's write a mutual letter that says look, in lieu of what's transpiring out there in the world with all this f**king crazy s**t, we have decided to take this private. We're not going to go to court, right now, over this. We are going to try to work something out, together. And then at least, at the very f**king least. I know you want to respond, and I know you want to defend yourself. Listen to me. Defending yourself by throwing someone under the bus is not going to look good. 

AH: I'm not. It's not about that. It would not be about me throwing you under the bus. You know what it would be? It would be released through documented people, coming on the record, and, having the protection to do so, that haven't had yet. It would be eyewitness statements. It would be evidence. Tons of it. And it would be through years. And it would be unbelievable. Unbelievable, um, to imagine that either I'm (a) in a secret fight club, or (b) I've had um...

JD: A secret what? 

AH: A secret fight club. Or that I have been plotting to do this for three years, and, while taking pictures of it, and documenting it, just saving it up for the right time when I'm not asking for any money and have nothing financial to gain from it. But no one is going to believe that. No one is going to believe that one of the two alternatives, that I'm in a fight club or I've been getting, going through hair and makeup or going through makeup through all these years where I have corroborating text messages between people that match those dates of those time stamped validated photos of either corroboration between people hearing us.

AH: All of that won't be me throwing you under the bus, that will be evidence, in the case. Which I will have to, it will be criminal as well, because I cannot go on Friday and file without filing a police statement first. And the only reason I haven't filed a police statement, which has been used against me by the way, every day, and the only reason I won't do it, haven't done it, is because I don't want to hurt you and that means it goes out of my hands and every, we had a third party guy, a third party prosecutor come and a criminal lawyer come, and they went, the problem is hearing from you like your biggest struggle, this is just, is that it is the most solid evidence, case of domestic violence case we've ever seen. And if you get this over to them or any part of it they will prosecute him. And I felt like, I would never want that. For you. Because I don't even, it's hard for me, I don't even call myself, like, in my head it's hard for me to even accept any sort of victimdom, ever. And I don't want to hurt you.

JD: I understand. I understand. And I don't want to hurt you either. I'm only going to say this. I love you. I love you. I've always loved you. And I know that, look, you do whatever you feel you have to do. I'm telling you now it's a mistake to go to court. If you want to go to court, we'll go to court. I would rather take care of it in a different way, I think it would be very good for you, and it would be very good for me. But you know what? 

AH: I've been called a liar. 

JD: Baby, you know what? 

AH: And I've been called a golddigger. 

JD: Baby. Baby. Amber, I didn't call you those things. I didn't call you those things.

JD: It's been going on too long Amber and we've got to stop this. It's got to stop it. 

AH: I don't know how to get my reputation back. 

JD: We write a letter together. Saying that we are going to take this out of the public eye. Saying that we are going to try and work this out on our own. Saying that the media has created such a f**king hateful storm that it's sickening. That we love each other. And that we want to make sure each other's OK. Have we had fights in the past, have we had this or whatever, f**k it, whatever, they already know all that s**t, it don't matter. Here's the deal. 

AH: Oh, it matters. I have been, I have been, you have no idea, every ounce of my credibility has been taken from. And done so in a dishonest way. You know.

JD: Amber, the abuse, the abuse thing is, is we've got to deal with that, yeah. We've got to deal with that Amber.

AH: We don't have any way of, my credit, It's my credibility. 

JD: Then why did you put that out there? 

AH: I did not. You forced me, your team, forced me to by going on the offense.

AH: Well I'm sorry. I'm sorry because the last time it got crazy between us I really did think I was gonna lose my life. And I thought you would do it on accident. And I told you that. I said oh my god, I thought the first time. 

JD: Amber, I lost a f**king finger man, c'mon. I had a f**king, I had a f**king mineral can, a jar, a can of mineral spirits thrown at my nose. 

AH: You can please tell people that it was a fair fight, and see what the jury and judge thinks.

Tell the world Johnny, tell them Johnny Depp, I JOHNNY DEPP, A MAN, I'M A VICTIM TOO OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. 

JD: Yes.

AH: And I, you know, it's a fair fight. And see how many people believe or side with you. 

JD: It doesn't matter, fair fight my a**. 

AH: That's exactly. Because your big, you're bigger and you're stronger. And so when I say that I thought that you could kill me, that doesn't mean you counter with you also lost your own finger. I, I'm not trying to attack you here, I'm just trying to point out the fact of why I said call 911. Because I was, you had your hands on me after you threw a phone at my face. And it's got crazy in the past, and I truly thought I need to stop this madness before I get hurt. 

JD: Oh my god. 

AH: And I never think about myself that way. I never defend myself that way. I never see myself as a victim.

JD: There's also Travis coming to get me, there's Travis having to come up and f**king pull me away from you.

JD: You're going to have to do this under oath too you know. 

AH: I will because the unfortunate part is I can talk about all of this. 

JD: Do you believe all this Amber? Do you believe all this? 

AH: Yes, the f**k, yes, yes. 

JD: You believe I'm an abuser? 

AH Yes. 

JD: You believe I'm an abuser? 

AH: In May, In December, in, in April 

JD: Do you believe you're an abuser? 

AH: No. 

JD: Do you believe you abused me physically? 

AH: Do I physically believe, I mean do I believe I physically abused you? 

JD: Yes? 

AH: Do you know I'm a 115, well not anymore, but I was a 115lb almost 115lb woman and you have the capacity...

JD: That's not the question. That's not the question.

AH: Have I ever been able to knock you off of your feet? Or knock you off balance? 

JD: You started. You started these things. 

AH: You're going to get up on the stand, Johnny, and say, 'she started it'? Really? I have never been able to overpower you that's the difference between me and you. 

JD: Why did you try? 

AH: And that's a difference, that's a whole world, and there's a jury and there's a judge will see that there's a very big difference between me and you.

JD: You cannot automatically, you cannot think that it's just my side. You are f**king killing me. Your f**king people are trying to kill me. You've turned me into a, my boy has to go to school, my boy goes to school and has kids go 'so your f**king dad's a wifebeater'? You don't think about that Amber. 

AH: You don't think also my family, and all the death threats? Me and every single person in my immediate circle of friends and family is getting also matters? And you don't think I, you don't think I? 

JD: Death threats?!! 

AH: Your people put this out. Why, why, why, why did your security go on the record and lie? Why, that's a proactive measure. Why did your divorce attorney get to file for divorce period? At all? Second, why did she have to go and leak to TMZ? Why if you wanted it private, is TMZ being fed information literally by Laura Wasser and Marty Singer every step of the way? My, my my my arrest records. Who put that in the media? The rumors that I was a stripper? Or, of course I can expect that. I've known every step of the way, every single step of the way everything you give 'em. 

JD: I give 'em? I give 'em? That's it. I give 'em? I'll see you in court. No. I'll f**king see you in court. I will f**king see you in court. I never f**king said that. I never told anyone that. You f**king trusted me with that and I never f**king told anyone that. And you know what, Amber? 

AH: Thank you. 

JD: This is not, no, this is me. This is me saying I tried. And thank you. And I will see you in f**king court. You don't want to make f**king nice nice? I'm trying. I'm trying. But you know what? You, I loved you for so many f**king years but you know what? You didn't exist. You don't exist. You're not there. You're not there. You are a f**king  made up thing in my head. And I can't believe you are doing this to me. 

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #2: Frogs

Words: ca. 1,600 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: Brief mention of bullying

  June

  Anna Sommers adjusts her bangs and checks her teeth in the reflection of her phone’s camera before pressing down on the button to start her video. “Hi y’all, it’s been a minute. I’m all moved in and my new neighbor just told me about an art market a couple of blocks away. I thought I might take y’all there to see what’s up. Let’s go!”

  The new Apartment Therapy blogger and wannabe social media influencer walks down the street as she speaks to her phone about her new house and all of the ideas she has for it.

  Upon arriving at a park, she is surprised to see that there are at least a hundred tents set up with various wares for sale. Art, homemade soaps, textiles, and food all line designated pathways, and Anna takes no time getting lost in it all.

  As she walks, she puts her phone away, wanting to enjoy the moment for a bit. The market is crowded with families with mischievous children, young adults, old folks, and all sorts of people looking for things to buy. It’s Anna’s element, and she grins as she tells herself that moving to this neighborhood was the best idea she’s ever had. She walks down the path and stops to chat with the vendors, looking for her next story but also looking for inspiration for her new home.

  When she spots a tent with a table of several brightly colored flowers, she lights up. “Perfect,” she says to herself as she walks over.

  Though the plants drew her in, it’s the woman that stops Anna in her tracks. “Gorgeous,” she says a little dazedly.

  A dark brow arches and a pink lip quirks. “Excuse me?”

Anna shakes her head and blinks. “Uh, you are- your flowers are gorgeous.”

  The woman- with the most beautiful pale blonde hair Anna has ever seen- smiles. “Thank you. Are you familiar with bromeliads?”

  “Bro what now?”

  Anna’s ignorance illicites a light laugh from the woman. “I suppose not then.”

  “No,” Anna says, her cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. “I’m what you’d call a plant murderer. I’ve killed succulents.”

  “Succulents are actually not as easy to care for as people think,” the woman cocks her head.

  “That doesn’t reassure me,” Anna says with a self-deprecating scoff. “I’m more of an appreciator of plants though. Experience has taught me to love them from afar.”

  “I bet you’d be a good plant mom if you had the right tools.”

  Wishing to know more about this woman, Anna steps further under the tent. “Thank you for the confidence…” She lingers to see if the woman will take the bait.

  “Elsa,” the woman smiles.

  Anna grins. Hook, line, and sinker. “Thank you, Elsa. My name’s Anna; I just moved a few blocks down.” She turns and vaguely waves her hand in the direction of her house.

  Elsa turns around but continues. “It’s nice to meet you, Anna.” Anna watches as she picks up a plastic pot with a small bromeliad in it. When she turns and holds out the plant to Anna, Anna’s eyes widen.

  “I bet you can keep this little guy alive for a month,” Elsa says.

  Anna holds her hands up defensively. “Oh, no, I don’t think-” The plant is thrust into her hands.

  “I believe in you,” Elsa smiles again.

  Anna nearly melts at her sudden infatuation with Elsa. Never before has she fallen so hard so fast; but, Elsa’s words have struck a chord deep inside Anna, and she wants to know Elsa more.

  “Anna?” Elsa’s mouth quirks up again.

  “Huh?” Anna’s eyes focus on the blonde. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I was just saying that I’m here every month so you can bring it back and let me inspect it to see how you’re doing.”

  “Wait, really? You’re giving me a plant? Shouldn’t I, like, pay you for it?”

  Elsa shakes her head, and Anna wishes she could play with her hair. “Consider it a housewarming gift.”

  July

  Anna practically runs from her house to the market, excited to show Elsa that her bromeliad hasn’t died yet.

  “I’m proud of you,” Elsa grins when Anna arrives at her tent, red-faced and out of breath. “I told you you could do it.”

  Anna puts the plant down on the table. “It’s all thanks to you. After I downloaded that app you showed me, I made a plan to keep Olaf alive.”

  “Olaf?”

  “I had to name him, Elsa.”

  Elsa’s laughter makes Anna grin, and she thinks that all she ever wants to do is make Elsa laugh.

  “So, I forgot to ask you last time: why bromeliads?”

  Elsa walks over to her table and grabs a book to hand to Anna. “Have you ever heard of Terry Pratchett?”

  Anna takes it as she says, “Didn’t he write Good Omens with the Neil dude? I forgot his last name.”

  “Gaiman; and, yes, they did write that together. But Terry Pratchett also wrote tons of books on his own. This is my favorite.”

  Anna looks down at the book. “Wings,” she read aloud.

  “I learned about bromeliads from it.  My grandmother bought it for me when I started to read chapter books. I especially loved that it talked about how frogs live inside bromeliads in the rainforest. I was the weird little girl that loved frogs, lizards, salamanders, and anything slimy.”

  “That’s not weird at all. That’s so cool!”

  August

  Anna has to wait until an older couple finishes purchasing a bromeliad from Elsa before she can ask her question. As soon as they turn to leave and she acknowledges them with a soft “hello,” she steps up to where Elsa is sitting behind the table.

  “Elsa, will you help me on my journey to be a plant mom?”

  Elsa smiles up at her. “Sure. I know a few places that have hardy plants that even you can’t kill.”

  “Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Anna deadpans as she pulls out her phone. “Do you have plans tomorrow? I could get your number, and we can meet up to go together.”

  “I’d love that.”

  September

  Anna takes a few calming breaths. She’s outside Elsa’s front door and working up the courage to knock. They’ve been spending more time together outside of the art market, but this is the first time Elsa’s invited her to her home.

  Just as she psychs herself up, the door opens and Elsa is there grinning. “I was wondering if you’d ever knock.”

  “For your information, I was admiring your door knocker,” Anna hedges.

  Elsa just laughs. “Well, if you’ve finished, I want to show you my greenhouse.”

  Anna nods. Her own plant collection is growing rapidly thanks to Elsa’s encouragement and advice, but she’s ready to see Elsa’s.

  They walk through the house, and Anna is excited to see bits of Elsa’s life. It’s as clean and organized as she imagined. The den has a cobalt sofa. There’s a kettle on her stove and pristine tea towels hanging from her oven door in her kitchen. Plants are everywhere- hanging from macraméd planters, in otherwise empty corners, trailing along walls. In short, Elsa’s house is Anna’s dream house.

  Elsa opens the back door and leads Anna through her garden. It’s small but brightly colored, with butterflies and bees pollinating all around them.

  A pot of dirt and a bag of bulbs outside the greenhouse catches Anna’s attention. “What are you planting?”

  Elsa turns to the pot. “Crocuses. They’re one of my favorites. They bloom in the spring and are beautiful shades of purple, white, and yellow.”

  “Purple’s my favorite color,” Anna grins.

  Elsa returns her smile. “Mine too.”

  October

  Fall has finally arrived, and with it, Anna’s favorite holiday. The market is decorated for Halloween, and Anna is a little relieved to see a few other adults dressed in costumes. Her own costume isn’t so much a costume as it is an adult onesie, but she doesn’t care. She’s on a mission to ask Elsa out, and she’s opted to do it as a frog.

  When she arrives at the table, Elsa’s looking down at her phone.

  “Hi,” Anna holds her arms out joyfully. “Are you hoppy to see me?”

  Elsa looks up with a smile that’s quickly replaced with a frown.

  Anna lowers her arms. “What’s wrong, Elsa?”

  “Are you making fun of me?” Elsa’s brows furrow.

  “Wait what?”

  “I told you I like frogs, and now you’re dressed up like one. Are you making fun of me?”

  “What? No, Elsa, I,” Anna pushes back the hoodie on her onesie. “I’m sorry. It was supposed to make you smile.”

  Elsa’s blue eyes soften. “Oh, I’m sorry, Anna. I was made fun of for liking frogs as a child, and I get a little defensive of it. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  Anna feels terrible and embarrassed and shifts from foot to foot. “No, it’s my fault.”

  “It really isn’t. It’s just me and my stuff. Please stay.” Elsa pats a chair next to her’s.

  Anna nods but never does get to fulfill her mission.

  November

  “Okay, Anna, do it. Do the thing,” Anna pumps herself up to finally ask Elsa out. She’s even found purple tulips to give Elsa because they resemble crocuses. She walks up to Elsa’s door with a purpose. Only to falter. “What if she says no? No, Anna, she won’t.”

  The door opens as she squares her shoulders.

“Are those for me?” Elsa smiles.

  “They are,” Anna hands them to her. “Elsa, will you go out with me?”

  Elsa grins. “I’d love to.”

  Epilogue

  Anna adjusts her bangs and checks her teeth in the reflection of her phone’s camera before pressing down on the button to start her video. “Hi y’all, it’s been a minute. Today I’m finally moving into my girlfriend’s house and I can’t wait to show y’all. She’s perfect, our home is perfect, and our new pet frog is perfect. His name is Sven by the way.”

[keroujack]

hey anon? you’re way too sweet and you own my entire heart, thank u ❤️ also i uh. wrote this listening to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack so. 4k Dirty Dancing AU? cool? cool. hope you like it!!

5. You have to leave right now.

Steve hates the Catskills. He’s always hated the Catskills. Has hated them from the time he was 7 years old, the first year his parents dragged his ass up here for an entire summer, all the way through to right now at 18, fresh off high school graduation.

Class of ’63.

He hates it. He hates this trip, he hates leaving his friends for a whole summer, and he hates the cheap façade his parents play at for three months, the way they pretend they’re a perfect, little family like the rest of the guests at this stupid fuckin’ resort.

Robin’s the only person that makes this place halfway bearable.

The Harrington’s come from Indiana, the Buckley’s come from Ohio, and Steve’s spent every summer plastered to her side since he was ten years old.

So it’s not a huge surprise that Robin’s pulling him into a hug before he’s even taken his suitcase out of the trunk. She squeezes him tight and asks him how he’s been, what the hell took his family so long to get there when hers has already been there for three days.

And then she says something else. Leans in real close so nobody else can hear her say, “And just wait until you see the new lifeguard.”

Steve has to laugh because of course she’s trying to set him up already, has probably spent the last three days setting herself up with somebody to keep her busy for the rest of the summer, but a lifeguard won’t do.

Staff’s off limits to guests and guests are off limits to staff.

Steve doesn’t feel like getting somebody fired just because the Catskills are the summer equivalent of watching paint dry and he doesn’t want to hang around his folks whenever Robin’s busy.

So, no. He says, “Nuh uh,” and shakes her off, tells her, “No staff.”

But she just quirks an eyebrow at him, looks at him like there’s something she knows and he doesn’t, but she drops it.

Leaves it alone until the next morning, when she drags Steve to the lake and all it takes is one look for Steve to know that the thing she knew and he didn’t was that the lifeguard is.

Gorgeous. No other word for it. Just fuckin’ really, really gorgeous.

All tan skin and short blonde curls and hard muscles that would make Steve’s mouth go dry if it wasn’t actually watering.

And suddenly that whole ‘Staff’s off limits to guests and guests are off limits to staff’ thing feels a lot more like a suggestion than a rule, a rule that could cost somebody their job if they’re not careful and Steve’s not great at careful, knows he’s staring, knows he hasn’t said anything for at least a minute.

And he knows his goose is well and truly cooked when he looks over at Robin and she’s got a big, fat grin, got ‘I told you so,’ written all over her face.

Steve elbows her in the side, says, “Shut up.”

To which she reminds him that she actually hasn’t said anything and he lets out a huff. Keeps walking and finds them chairs near the water to spend the afternoon in.

And if they’re in perfect view of the lifeguard stand, well. Nobody has to know.

Nobody has to know that Steve’s got this funny, little twist going on somewhere behind his belly button either. That it feels like something’s too big, gonna crack in his chest and break all his ribs.

And with it, he knows he’s about to spend his entire summer sitting right here. With a perfect view of that lifeguard.

Because looking never hurt anybody, it certainly never got anybody fired.

So Steve’s content to do just that. To look.

Which. Only lasts about a week.

Five days, if you really wanna know how weak Steve’s resolve is, how poor his impulse control is.

Steve’s been sitting at the lake with a perfect view of the gorgeous new lifeguard for five days when he realizes he needs more.

He wants to know what color the lifeguard’s eyes are when they’re not hidden behind sunglasses. He wants to know what his voice sounds like when he’s not shouting at kids. He wants to know what he smells like when they’re not all covered in sunscreen and if his lips are as red up close as they look from this far away.

He wants the lifeguard to look back.

Looking never got anybody in trouble.

So Steve’s bathing suit shorts get shorter. If he’s got a shirt on to save his shoulders from the sun, he leaves it unbuttoned all the way down. He makes it a point to walk down to the edge of the water and wet his hair almost every hour, on the hour.

Steve also starts looking for him, the lifeguard, whenever he’s not at the lake.

That’s when Steve knows he’s half past fucked.

When he realizes that he sits at dinner with his parents with his head up, eyes on the rest of the dining room. He gets dragged to evening shows and spends more time watching the doorways, watching the crowd than the acts on stage. Walks around the guest cabins every morning with the sun still low in the sky and contemplates going down to the lake to go see him before the rest of the world wakes up and life gets too busy.

Steve feels like he’s looking for him everywhere.

But staff’s off limits to guests and guests are off limits to staff.

And Steve hates it. He hates the Catskills, he hates being stuck here with his parents, and he hates that stupid fucking rule, has never hated it more than this summer, but that’s the way it is.

He can play his games and look and want more, but it’ll never be more. It can’t be more. It’s not even anything, it’s nothing more than a crush, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.

But it’s a little over a week of this, eight, maybe nine more days of Steve losing his mind and fighting with himself and trying to catch the lifeguard’s attention despite his better judgment when he finally sees him looking back. The lifeguard.

Steve catches him.

Is on his way back to his chair after a minute at the edge of the lake to wet his hair when he looks up and catches him.

The lifeguard’s got his sunglasses hooked in his shirt, got his head tilted back. Got his eyes on Steve and Steve’s heart starts beating like a jackhammer in his chest when he realizes that his eyes are blue, the lifeguard’s eyes are so blue and Steve’s definitely staring back, only narrowly avoids tripping and eating shit over a chair he hadn’t seen in front of him.

But he’s smiling. He doesn’t want to be, wants to play cool and act indifferent, but he’s pleased, undeniably so, and the only thing that makes him feel a little less stupid, a little less like he’s a 12 year old with a crush is that the lifeguard’s sort of smiling, too.

The lifeguard’s staring, too.

Steve catches him staring a lot more after that day.

Looks up and over at the lifeguard stand every so often and sees that he’s got his head angled in Steve’s direction, chin tilted towards him.

His eyes are still hidden behind sunglasses and Steve doesn’t know for sure where he’s looking, not right away, but he knows it when he tests it.

Settles a little further in his seat, lets his legs splay open a little wider and smiles at one side of his mouth.

When the lifeguard smiles back, when he shakes his head once and turns it back towards the lake, Steve knows he was looking.

Feels a bit like Steve’s winning.

Like maybe he’s not the only one wondering just how airtight of a rule ‘Staff’s off limits to guests and guest are off limits to staff’ is.

It’s almost been a month. Steve’s almost been here a month. June’s getting ready to give way to July, his parents are off getting dancing lessons, Robin’s off with some girl she met in the dining room the other night, and Steve can hear music at the top of the stairs.

The top of the stairs, where the staff cabins are.

Staff parties are no secret, everybody knows about them. It’s not the first time in the 11 years Steve’s been coming to the Catskills that he’s thinking about wandering up there, feels a certain sense of curiosity when he hears the music that’s echoing somewhere up out of view.

And he shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. He knows just how much he shouldn’t, but it’s almost been a month and he’s still looking for the lifeguard everywhere he goes. Wants to know if his eyes are actually that blue and what his name might sound like on his lips.

And Steve, he’s never been good at careful.

The music gets louder as he makes his way up the steep set of stairs. Continues to get louder once he gets to the top and follows the noise all the way to the doorstep of a cabin with an open door.

There’s music thundering from inside, the space is packed with staff Steve’s seen at some point or another.

He hesitates. Because he shouldn’t.

Off limits.

But clearly his legs aren’t connected to his brain because one second he’s outside and the next he’s walking in through the front door, eyes a little wide at just how many people the cabin can hold. All dancing, drinking, completely carefree and loose.

There’s only one person he’s looking for, though.

So he drifts further into the room while he lets his eyes wander, glances over all the waiters, the dance teachers, the fitness instructors, the activity leaders.

He’s looking for short blonde hair and tan skin when he feels a smack on his shoulder. Comes face to face with a freckled kid around his age that he recognizes as a busboy.

The kid’s got a beer in one hand, eyes narrowed at Steve. Voice almost drowned out by the music when he says, “You can’t be here.”

Which. Steve understands. Really he does. But he doesn’t want to stop looking. Doesn’t want to leave.

Shakes his head and has to angle his chin to look down at the kid. “Look, pal. I’m not here to get anybody in trouble.” He even puts his hands up in front of him for good measure, hopes they look like a white flag. “M’just lookin’ for somebody.”

The kid doesn’t budge, though. “Do it tomorrow,” he says. “Guests aren’t allowed up here.”

Off limits.

Steve’s liking rules less and less with every second that goes by, but he’s never been good at careful.

“Just gimme a couple minutes,” he tries. “After that I’ll be outta your hair.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve huffs. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that you’re not allowed to be here,” the kid states. Hard. “So you have to leave.” Steve doesn’t move. “Seriously. You have to leave right now.”

Steve stays put, but apparently this kid’s had enough because he grabs onto Steve’s arm and says, “Alright, asshole. Let’s go,” and starts pulling him towards the door. Gets him halfway to the threshold by the time he’s saying, “Now go back down to Mommy and Daddy and leave us alone so we can-”

“Hey Tommy, don’t you got anything better to do?”

And the freckled kid stops dead in his tracks. And Steve’s eyes go wide. And the air catches in his throat and all the hairs stand up on the back of his neck because he knows that voice.

He’s been thinking about that voice and those eyes and that mouth since the day he got here and when he turns his head he’s. He’s right there.

The lifeguard’s right there.

He’s in jeans and this short-sleeved, baby blue button-down that he’s got cuffed around his biceps, undone all the way down to his navel, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other, and Steve’s got half a mind to keep his knees from buckling.

But the freckled kid doesn’t take his arm off Steve and the lifeguard raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t speak, but Steve can hear the, ‘Well?’ in it, the motion.

The freckled kid’s voice is higher now, less certain, like he’s back on his heels.

“B-but he’s not-guests shouldn’t be up here,” he stutters.

The lifeguard hides half an eye roll behind a long blink. Moves the cigarette over to his other hand so that he’s got it and the bottle both in one and grabs Steve’s other arm to pull him out of the freckled kid’s hold, makes the kid let go.

Pulls Steve further into the room with him and turns his head to call an easy, “Get the fuck over it,” over his shoulder.

And Steve’s pretty sure he hasn’t breathed in a minute. Maybe longer. Feels sorta lightheaded. Thinks maybe he’s passed out and died and gone to heaven.

The lifeguard shakes his beer bottle out in front of them while he walks, easy, tilts his head up so Steve can hear him over the music when he says, “Can I get you somethin’, pretty boy?” and his breath is so warm that Steve feels the heat of it spark at his insides.

He has to swallow, push down some of the nerves, the excitement, the finally sitting at the top of his throat when he leans in and says, “Whatever you’re having.”

And the lifeguard laughs at that, an easy rush of air that twists something in Steve’s stomach. He brings the bottle up to his mouth and tips it, must finish it off because he throws it in a garbage can and grabs two more off a table along the wall.

He takes his hand off Steve’s arm so that he can take one last drag on his cigarette. Stubs it out. Uses the two bottles to open each other and lets the caps fall to the floor, hands one to Steve.

Brings his own halfway up and says, “I’m Billy,” before he wraps his lips-his red lips, his really, really red lips-around the rim and tips it back for a drink.

“Steve,” he says, has his eyes on the lifeguard’s-on Billy’s mouth, the curl of his hand around the neck of the bottle while he brings his own up for a sip. Puts his lips to it, tips it, feels warm beer slide all the way down.

Billy says it back to him, is watching him, eyes all half-lidded and pretty when he says, “Steve,” and fuck it sounds just as good coming from his mouth as Steve thought it might.

He has to take another long sip to keep from gasping, from doing something stupider. Like asking him to say it again.

He’s got his mouth back around the bottle when Billy looks away, looks out towards the floor, towards all the couples dancing, and he’s got this smile pulling at the corner of his lips, has his head tipped back when he looks at Steve again.

Something mischievous in his eyes. Something bright. Or maybe dark. (All depends on your point of view.)

Steve’s about to ask him what he’s thinking, what’s so funny when he leans in closer, gives Steve the chance to notice that he smells a little like smoke, a little more like sandalwood, drags his eyes down Steve’s face and opens his mouth.

Asks, “You wanna dance?” and gestures with his chin out towards the floor.

Steve can’t help the flush that crawls up his neck at the idea, the tone, all casual and smooth like Steve’s been here a thousand times before and this is any old Saturday night.

He tries to shake off the embarrassment, the flush with a laugh while he says, “I don’t really know how,” but Billy’s expression doesn’t change.

If anything, it’s like the words make Billy’s smile widen. Make his eyes go brighter. Or maybe darker. (Point of view.)

But he doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches Steve with that smile, doesn’t look away while he takes another sip of his beer and puts his arm back down at his side.

And then he’s wrapping his free hand around Steve’s wrist. Gets real close, smells like cigarette smoke and sandalwood, and says, “Lemme show you.”

And he pulls Steve away from the wall and out into the middle of the crowd.

Steve’s legs are too slow for his body and he’s grateful as all hell that he doesn’t trip, doesn’t stumble, but Billy doesn’t let go once they’re completely surrounded by people, is still holding on when he turns around to face him.

He’s holding Steve’s wrist in his hand and watching him, looking him in the eyes and Steve’s not sure he’s ever seen a blue that vibrant in his whole life and Billy.

Brings his hand up, Steve’s hand. Puts it on his shoulder, Billy’s shoulder.

And Steve understands now that Billy hadn’t just been asking him if he wanted to dance. In general.

Billy had been asking Steve if he wanted to dance. With him.

He’s gotta be in heaven.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epPiqIUlhPU&feature=youtu.be&t=15)

He’s got his free hand on Billy’s shoulder, Billy’s got his free hand on his waist, the radio in the corner’s blaring, ‘Tell me, baby, do you like it like this? Tell me, tell me,’ and oh, Steve likes it like this. Almost tells him.

Feels the words die right on his tongue when Billy starts to move, starts to sway, starts to move his hips and gives Steve no choice but to follow. He has to. Wants to.

And Steve, he can’t bring himself to think about rules while he and Billy are sharing the same air.

Would do just about anything to keep Billy looking at him like this forever, blue eyes locked low, red lips pulled into a smile.

He’s got sweat curling the hair near his temple, some more of it down his neck and Steve wishes they weren’t in the middle of a party so that he could lean in and taste it. Wants to close his eyes and drown in the smell of smoke and sandalwood, but they are in the middle of a party so he can’t.

So he settles for something sort of bold.

Slips his hand beneath Billy’s collar and rests his palm over the smooth skin of his shoulder, feels the muscle, the hard lines he’s been watching for weeks and lets his eyes dip down to watch Billy run his tongue over his lower lip. Brings them back up to look at his eyes.

Darker. Billy’s eyes are definitely darker.

Billy’s eyes are dark, his skin is warm, the air is hot, and the music is good.

He’s not sure how long it goes on like this. Dancing, laughing, looking.

Billy’s voice is deep and smooth and he has to lean in close whenever he talks so that Steve can hear him, can smell smoke and sandalwood. Some of his curls have fallen down over his forehead and Steve would reach up to push them back if it didn’t mean taking his hand off Billy’s shoulder, out from its place beneath his shirt.

At some point they finish their beers and Billy hands the empty bottles off to some kid, tells him to throw them away for him.

Frees them up enough that Billy can put both arms around his waist, can put both hands on his back. Steve can keep one hand beneath Billy’s collar and loop the other arm around his neck.

Steve doesn’t know his left foot from his right, but if dancing means getting to touch Billy this like? To look at him without sunglasses to block the view, to talk to him without a sea of guests to get in the way and a list of rules to ruin his life? He’s willing to do it forever.

Willing to dance with him and touch him and forget that the rest of the world exists so long as the music is loud and the crowd is thick enough to hide them away.

And he’s pulled from the thought when the song changes.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbCV_fTyedk&feature=youtu.be)

‘Stay, just a little bit longer.’

The whole mood changes, shifts from fast to slow, warm to hot and Billy doesn’t miss a beat.

‘Please, please, please, tell me that you’re going to.’

Billy pulls him so close that their chests are flush, their noses are bumping, their hips are lined up. Steve has to take his hand from Billy’s shirt, but he just loops it around his neck like the other one, gets rid of the rest of the space between them and rests his forehead against Billy’s.

Lets the rhythm fall slow and hot and easy so that he can feel Billy everywhere.

‘If we have another dance, yeah. Just one more.’

Billy slips his hands under his shirt, spreads them, splays them wide over the skin at the small of his back.

‘Oh won’t you stay, just a little bit longer?’

Steve finds Billy’s hair with his fingers, twists them in his curls, grinds his hips into Billy’s and watches the blue of his eyes recede as his pupils blow wider. Feels Billy push back, feels him roll his hips long and slow and hard and so, so good that it’s got Steve gasping.

‘Won’t you place your sweet lips to mine?’

If Steve looks down, it’s because Billy does, too. Wants to lean in and kiss him until their lips are both red and raw with it, until his mind goes fuzzy and he’s got no air left in his lungs.

‘Stay, just a little bit longer.’

It’s electric. Dancing with Billy, being this close to him. Steve feels like he’s got lighting beneath his fingertips, running through his veins, sparking, pulling tight, tight, tight in the pit of his stomach.

‘Come on, come on, come on, stay.’

They’re both panting by the time the song ends. Steve can feel Billy’s chest heaving against his, can feel the hard thumpthumpthump of his heart if he tries hard enough.

Can taste Billy’s words in his mouth when he swallows and says, “Wanna get out of here?”

And Steve wants to laugh, wants to say it’s ironic to leave after dancing to that song, a song about staying, but he’s not gonna take any chances at scaring Billy away, at saying anything that might make his answer sound anything less than a yes.

So he tugs his lower lip between his teeth, watches Billy’s eyes drop and nods, watches Billy’s smile spread wider for having seen it.

Billy doesn’t grab his arm, doesn’t grab his wrist.

Billy takes a step back, takes his hand, and threads their fingers together, pulls Steve through the crowd and out the open door into the cool night air.

Walks him through the rows, the lines of staff cabins and knocks their hips together while he leads them to what has to be his own.

Steve’s got anticipation bubbling at the top of his chest and one thought screaming louder than the rest.

Staff’s off limits to guests and guests are off limits to staff.

But Billy pulls him into his cabin, shuts the door behind them, and crowds Steve against it.

And Steve loops his arms around Billy’s neck like he’d done while they were dancing, pulls him in so close their chests are touching, their noses are brushing.

Billy steps closer and slips his hands beneath his shirt again to rest them on his sides.

Tips his head and leans in and kisses him and shatters every single thought Steve’s ever had about rules and guidelines and ‘Staff’s off limits to guests and guests are off limits to staff.’

Because off limits?

Off limits doesn’t mean a thing with Billy’s lips on his and Billy’s weight pressing him into a mattress.

Not a goddamn thing.

[stormears]

FF7R Fanfic Exvacation - Trends of the Times PART 1

Welcome to my ECOLOGICAL SURVEY OF FF.NET’S FF7 ARCHIVE.

I’m scrolling through (most of) the 36 thousand English FF7 fanfics on FF.net. I’m mostly a new fan because of the remake (know some spoilers now tho) and got curious what the fanfic culture of years ago was like...of FFN specifically. Because that’s what I know and used for many years. I’ll go up till shortly after Remake’s release date, I think. 

PART 1, YOU ARE HERE! // Part 2: May - Dec 2005 // Part 3: Jan - Jul 2006 

I had 1458 pages to go through at the start. Got through 30 of them before deciding I would, uh, take liberties and skip a few pages sometimes. Sometimes 2, sometimes up to 4. Because while I liked this project, I also want to eventually, actually READ some fics for this new fandom of mine. And the oldest ones don’t often...have that high-quality writing. Or they’re about late-game plot deets that I, a newbie fool, don’t know or want to read about yet! (Note 3 months later, I kind of regret this and may go back and read more deeply about the 1999-2004 fics. Future posts of mine don’t skip nearly this much.)

SOME FINDS AND FACTS:

- July 23, 1999: first English language FF7 fic posted

- February 2000: First mention of Aerith, instead of original translation Aeris

- Dec 3, 2000: First Sephiroth/Cloud fanfic posted, refers to the pairing as “shounen-ai”. Did not see the pairing being called “yaoi” till later, in fics published June 2001 and after.

- GENERAL: a lot of poems and songfics. Often mournful fics with son lyrics set in between every few paragraphs, from popular bands of the early 2000s (Metallica, Creed, Weird Al Yankovic, Avril Lavigne) or just the song with FF names and words plugged in

- GENERAL: Humor or light-hearted crackfic is the most popular genre, followed by romance. By mid-2001, TifaxCloud and AerithxCloud seem about neck-and-neck in popularity. 

-  June 14, 2001: First Tifa hate fic I came across. It’s written in script style, about the characters having fun and drinking at a house party. Author says in opening AN: “I truly think she is a slut.”

- GENERAL: My knowledge of what happens after the Remake is spotty but I didn’t expect there to be more than 10 AerithxRufus fanfics and there’s been...at least 10?

- GENERAL: One story has just 1 chapter, and the summary invites readers to go to the author’s Geocities page to read the rest! May 31, 2002. 

- January 2, 2003: a “fic” that is a group of haikus about the Turks, that was neat. Points for uniqueness. 

- One summary: “Not yaoi - you ought to read it just for that!” Although M/M pairings and/or self-declared yaoi makes up 10 - 15% of everything I’ve scrolled through so far. “Crazy yaoi fangirls” doesn’t appear to be a popular demographic here yet.  

- 1999-2002 fics often had very short, poorly written and meta-factual (?) summaries. Not detailed, more like facts about the story you might write on a sticky note, and poor grammar. One might be like: This is a story from Aeriths perspective. Its about her talking to thhe planet.....I wrote this in math class btw. Thanks for helping me Ashley R&R! (In 2003 to 2004 times, this is really tapering off and legit summaries get more common.)

- 2004 sampler platter of fics: 1) Aeris (not “th”) watches an irl Australian tennis player’s match on TV, goes to his house and kills his girlfriend, is sentenced to death by chocobo pecking 2) Sephiroth is a vampire looking for a mate and sets his sights on Tifa, also a vampire; they meet in a seedy/dangerous bar 3) After President Shinra is killed, the Shinra grunts discuss how they like Rufus much more because he doesn’t view himself as too good for dirty/dangerous work and isn’t afraid to be on the front lines with the grunts

- First mention of the Advent Children in a modern AU crackfic about child Sephiroth and his “little brothers” posted July 24, 2004. But google says the movie didn’t come out till September 2005? Idk. And yet a later, unrelated fic posted on February 20, 2005 mentions “the upcoming movie Advent Children.”

- 2004 and 2005 have a lot of Yuffie representation. I haven’t seen the word “Yuffentine” since I last seriously used/surfed DeviantART in 2012.

- We are at May 2005, I’ve skimmed and simplified almost 6 years of fanfic.

I’m going to put the brakes on my liberal skipping policy. There’s 1144 pages left as of this time of writing, April 24, 2020. I will only skip 2 pages max if I want to “hurry,” so I will view at absolute minimum 644 more pages of fanfic before I’m done. Again, I’ll probably go up to the day of Remake’s release (I’m more concerned with the PAST trends here) or maybe just a bit after its release for better comparison of the very old and very new. 

This is taking a long time, and obviously eating into time I could use for my own fanfics or anything else in life, but damn it’s fun.

(Note August 2, 2020: I SWEAR I’m gonna update this post soonish with more ‘99 - ‘04 fics :/ ) 

[nerianasims]

Billboards #1 1963

Under the cut.

Steve Lawrence – “Go Away Little Girl” -- January 12, 1963

"Little girl" didn't mean "little girl" in songs of the era. She could be 49 for all we know. And yet, having to constantly remind onesself of that does not make for a pleasant listening experience. Nothing about it is a pleasant listening experience. Okay, he's drawn to someone he shouldn't be and doesn't know if he can resist. That's a common enough human experience. But he's so smarmy about it. And musically, it's light and boring lounge schmaltz.

The Rooftop Singers – “Walk Right In” -- January 26, 1963

It's okay. It's catchy. I can believe the singers are living breathing people, and not automatons, which is saying a lot for folk-pop of the era. There's some nice acoustic guitar work. I just can't get over the feeling this was originally either about drugs or sex work and has been sanitized. It's fine though. Which is a major improvement over the offensively bad "Michael" two years back.

Paul & Paula – “Hey Paula” -- February 9, 1963

They want to get married as soon as possible because they just can't wait. Why is not said -- this song is Wonder Bread -- but it's obviously because of sex. Also they're singing to each other's stage names, Paul and Paula. "Hey Paula" and "Hey Paul." Getting married very young because you can't handle not having sex any more is a really bad idea. Anyway, it's hard for me to think about the lyrics much because the music is so bland I think it killed some brain cells.

The Four Seasons – “Walk Like A Man” -- March 2, 1963

Can't sleep, Frankie Valli will get me. That falsetto. Dear lord. Anyway, his girlfriend has been spreading lies about him and he's gonna "walk like a man" to get away from her. I'd run like a woman to get away from his voice.

Ruby & The Romantics – “Our Day Will Come” -- March 23, 1963

Now here's a wonderful voice. Ruby Nash has a rich, beautiful contralto, and she puts a lot of joy into it. She's telling someone not to be upset about waiting, because "our day will come" and they'll be able to live happily ever after together. The bossa nova arrangement is nice, but this is all about Nash's voice. Quite good.

The Chiffons – “He’s So Fine” -- March 30, 1963

The narrator is in love with a shy guy whom she's having problems getting close to, but she's determined. "Sooner or later/ I hope it's not later." A nice bouncy girl group song. Also George Harrison ripped the melody off for a much worse song years later.

Little Peggy March – “I Will Follow Him” -- April 27, 1963

In high school, one of my friends and I made up words to this song that went "I hate him/ I hate him/ I hate him" and etc. So uh. This song. As-is, I find it annoying. It's a good jumping off point for you and your friends when you're deeply pissed off at some guys, though.

Jimmy Soul’s “If You Wanna Be Happy” -- May 18, 1963

If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life, don't marry a pretty woman, marry an ugly woman who can cook. This song makes me laugh. It's dated and problematique. Whatever, I find it amusing.

Lesley Gore – “It’s My Party” -- June 1, 1963

Johnny and Judy are colossal jackasses. They timed starting to go steady at Johnny's girlfriend's party, sheesh. It's all rather unlikely. Considering she's going through something that would be both heartbreaking and horribly embarrassing, Lesley Gore doesn't sound too terribly broken up about it, even if she is supposed to be crying. It's still a good song.

Kyu Sakamoto – “Sukiyaki” (originally "Ue O Muite Aruko") -- June 15, 1963

Kyu Sakamoto had a wonderful voice for pop songs or light tenor roles on Broadway, and he used it well. This is a bittersweet song in Japanese about looking up when you walk after your heart is broken so no one sees your tears -- after your protest movement against U.S. interference in your country fails. Hm. We tend to underestimate how much people in the past knew, and it is entirely possible this song became a hit partly in solidarity with that protest movement. Or maybe because people happened to hear it on TV because of the movement. Or maybe just because it's a pretty song, sung beautifully.

The Essex – “Easier Said Than Done” -- July 6, 1963

The narrator's friends are saying she should tell a guy she's into him, but she can't seem to do it. It's a buoyant little song, but nothing more than that.

Jan And Dean – “Surf City” -- July 20, 1963

This song is explicitly not for me. "Two girls for every boy" sounds no fun at all. And they keep singing it in falsetto. As for the sound, it's an early 60s surf song. Yawn.

The Tymes – “So Much In Love” -- August 3, 1963

The narrator and his fiancee are so much in love, and his backup singers are snapping and woo-wooing to support him in the background. It's nice, and kind of a big nothing at the same time. There's something very assembly line about it.

Little Stevie Wonder – “Fingertips (Pt. II)” -- August 10, 1963

Stevie Wonder was 13 at the time. Which means I don't like this song. He's just too young. Also it's live and sort of all over the place, though it's mostly harmonica. I'll be much happier to hear Stevie Wonder when he's back a few years from now.

The Angels – “My Boyfriend’s Back” -- August 31, 1963

I consider this song close to perfection. It's musically fun and taunting, and the taunting is serious. "Look out now, cuz he's comin' after you." This piece of shit who's been spreading rumors about and sexually harassing the narrator is about to eat dirt. Oh yeah, I love it.

Bobby Vinton – “Blue Velvet” -- September 21, 1963

Apparently David Lynch named a movie for this? I avoid David Lynch like the plague, so that doesn't influence my hearing of the song. The narrator and the woman in blue velvet were in love, but then she "left." It's melancholy enough that I feel she may have died, not just left. Pretty, sad, but that's about it.

Jimmy Gilmer And The Fireballs – “Sugar Shack” -- October 12, 1963

The titular "sugar shack" is supposedly a coffeehouse. I have my doubts. They had to bury implications under a lot of layers in 1963. Or maybe I'm just trying to make the song more interesting, imagining the narrator wants to marry a sex worker and not a waitress. The song is bouncy and bubbly and dull.

Nino Tempo & April Stevens -- "Deep Purple" -- November 16, 1963

I find this song very unpleasant due to Nino Tempo's singing. There's something about it that grates on me, the woo-woo's especially. This is about dreaming an old -- possibly dead -- lover is coming back to you. And it's sure cheery and peppy. Also there's a spoken word section that's not good at all. I do not like this rendition of this song one bit.

Dale & Grace – “I’m Leaving It Up To You” -- November 23, 1963

No Ray Charles this year? I'm in desperate need here. Sigh. Grace's voice is high and nasal and I have nothing to say about Dale. The idea of the song is that they're leaving it up to the other person in the relationship whether to keep going. The lyrics are nothing special, but they're fine. The music is boring except that Grace's voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I don't know how much more stuff like this I can take.

The Singing Nun – “Dominique” -- December 7, 1963

Well, it's different. It’s French. Jeanne-Paule Marie Deckers, the Singing Nun, wrote this cheery song about the founder of her order. He chose poverty and only talked about God, you know the drill. I don't connect with it, and I also have nothing negative to say about it. It's a refreshing song.

BEST OF 1963: My Boyfriend's Back and Sukiyaki in a tie  WORST OF 1963: Nino Tempo & April Stevens' rendition of Deep Purple, though there were many contenders

[arcanaheadcanons]

Carmen Meets Muriel

over my vacation, when i wasn’t on the internet because the place i was at had very sketchy free internet that probably would have given my laptop an std, i wrote a li’l oneshot fic. it was one my ideas for a carmen comic but it would have taken too much effort to draw soooo it’s written now. idk what tumblr’s post limit is but i doubt i’ll go over it (seriously it’s less than 2k) so i’m gonna paste it under the cut and we’ll see what happens.

word count: 1899

description: muriel has to talk to carmen (character concept here) and he’s not very happy about it

The sun had disappeared under the horizon and darkness was washing the last orange stains from the sky when Muriel, cursing himself for even being there, approached the shop. He had one final errand left in the day, and it was crucial: he had run out of angelica. The herb, a thick stalk with umbels of little white flowers, was sometimes used for medicines and sometimes used in spells for protection. In Muriel’s case, it was a necessary component in the wards he had placed around the forest, which were in need of replacing. As angelica favored a colder climate than sunny Vesuvia, he had to rely on the magic shop’s supply. Asra was always more than happy to lend him a hand free of charge, but the magician was currently unconscious in a magic circle on Muriel’s floor while his spirit roamed the realm of the Arcana. Which meant that, if Muriel was going to an Asra-less shop, he would have to deal with…

…his apprentice.

Muriel winced as he heard a muffled, off-key sea shanty coming from the upper floor. To his knowledge, Carmen had never set foot on a boat. However, as she kept sneaking off to the south end of town ever since her incident, it made sense that she had picked up a thing or two from the local color; the “local color” being every seedy bar in the city. He knocked on the door and almost hoped she didn’t hear him. The singing stopped.

“Closed!” she half-shouted, her voice coming from the back of the shop this time. She must have moved closer to the stairs to allow the sound to carry.

It would have been so much easier for both of them if he could just leave – if he could go back home and let her think he was just another customer who hadn’t noticed the porch light was out. But he didn’t have the option. He imagined the wards he had placed breaking, Lucio’s ghost being allowed full strength, and Asra, unguarded, out cold in a hut in the middle of nowhere, and knocked on the door a second time.

“Ohhhhmygodddddddddddddddddd whyyyy.”

A string of irritated muttering started up and ended just as quickly as it was replaced by the sound of someone falling down a flight of stairs.

Muriel froze, concerned and unsure of what to do about that, but soon enough the door opened and Carmen, slightly frazzled, looked out into the space she typically expected a person’s face to be. That space was located squarely in the middle of his chest.

She slowly corrected her gaze to meet his, almost having to crane her neck to do so. “Well, damn,” she said. Muriel had seen her mouth those words during other chance meetings of theirs, but this was the first time she said them aloud. He didn’t like this. His face was getting hot. He had to explain himself, finish his errand, and leave as soon as possible.

“I’m–”

“Muriel, right?”

What.

Carmen opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come on in. I’ll uh, make tea? Or something?”

What. Why. How. What was going on. Muriel entered the shop and watched as she sifted through the jars of herbs on the shelves in search of tea. He noticed as he looked away that the front of the shop was the only area that hadn’t gone to complete disarray. Everything from the base of the stairs to the back was covered in a mishmash of belongings. Trinkets and clothing were heaped into piles with no immediately apparent category, flanked by an unsettling amount of empty alcohol bottles.

“Sorry about the mess.” Carmen resurfaced from the shop’s stock with a short, squat jar full of the blooming tea that Asra made. “I was. Well. Y’know. Looking. Through stuff.” She began her quest to the stairs, carefully stepping around the stacks with amazing precision for someone who was having balance issues. “This is what happens when I’m left unsupervised. Be right back.”

As Carmen went to the upstairs kitchen and started a new batch of worrying clanking sounds that aren’t typically associated with the tea making process, Muriel wandered over to the jars and picked out the angelica. He counted out the necessary number of stalks, placed them in one of the pouches tied to his belts, and returned the jar to the shelf. He strongly considered leaving the shop then and there, but there was a question gnawing at his guts and it couldn’t be ignored, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. While he waited for Carmen’s return, he busied himself with reorganizing the jars that she had disturbed.

Fifteen minutes later she came back down the stairs with a large soup mug filled with green tea and a larger bottle that, judging by the scent, contained brandy. As she gave to mug to Muriel, he noticed that she must have spent the extra time and effort looking for a cup that fit his hands. The emotional impact of her thoughtfulness was interrupted when she ripped the cork out of the brandy with her teeth, spat it into a corner, and took a deep swig.

Once she came up for air, he decided to confront what had been bothering him. “How do you know about me?”

She lowered the bottle and stared at him in mild confusion. “Was I… not supposed to?”

Muriel didn’t know what to say to that, but apparently the look on his face spoke for him.

“Oh. Oh, whoops. Sorry about that. I, uh…”

He continued to stay silent so that she could elaborate.

Carmen set the brandy on the shop counter and turned towards the piles. “The old me kept some notes on you,” she started. She reached out to one of the piles and a notebook shot into her hand. “Because of the whole Forget-Me thing. She made sure to jot something down every time you met before the spell kicked in.”

She offered the notebook to him, and he set down his yet-untouched tea to flip through it. It was a small, flimsy thing, and he had some difficulty picking the pages apart. Sure enough, there were several notes on his appearance and habits, the entries of which were no more than a few words long, and they were dated some years ago. Back when her hair was short, and her smile was wide, and wildflowers grew in her footsteps. When Carmen continued talking, he remembered the dull-eyed stranger she had become and snapped back to reality.

“So yeah, with hints like ‘about seven feet tall’ and ‘GREEN EYES’ written in capitals, it wasn’t too hard to recognize you,” she said. She studied him intently. “You know, I didn’t know what she meant by using capital letters, but I get it now. Your eyes are really green, like–” Stopping herself, Carmen winced and looked away, blinking hard as if she were trying to wake up from a dream. “Sorry. I’m losing my mental filter. What were you here for again? Asra’s out of town if you were looking for him.”

“I know,” Muriel said. He dug through his belongings until he found a pouch full of myrrh and tossed it to her.

“Oh! Um… thanks?” Carmen opened and closed the bag. “What is this for?”

“To ward off the spell.”

She looked even more confused than before. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to know about you?”

“You already do, and I don’t want to have this conversation again.” He turned to leave. At this point, he had far exceeded his limit on social activity. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Huh? But you didn’t even have any– aaaaand he’s gone.” Carmen’s words faded as he shut the door behind him.

 It was well into the night when Muriel returned home. The journey was long enough already, but the added detour he took to replace all the wards by the roadsides added a considerable amount of time. He would have to rest a little before replacing the rest of them. The hut was a welcome sight after the day’s adventure. Though cramped, it was a safe haven from the rest of the world; a place so deep in the woods that it was rarely stumbled upon by strangers. He examined his house’s ward – a bundle of sticks hanging from one of the great tree roots that engulfed the structure – and decided that it was strong enough to leave as it was. Then he opened the door.

Everything was exactly as he had left it. The runes in the magic circle on the floor were thankfully undisturbed, and Asra was still sleeping at its center under a thick blanket, which Muriel had given him when he had to extinguish the hearth on his way out. In the corner, Inanna stirred from her makeshift bed and trotted over to him.

“I’m home,” he said redundantly.

The wolf acknowledged this by placing her head firmly under his hand for scratches. Muriel gave her a standard head-pat and asked her to wait while he restarted the fire in the hearth. When he returned, he pulled up a chair and complied with her request. With his free hand, he began removing pouches from his belts and putting them on the table with the intention of reequipping the ones he’d need before he next left the hut. His task was stopped when he took a pouch he couldn’t recall the contents of and Inanna abruptly leaned out of his grasp to smell it.

Curious, Muriel opened the pouch and pulled out the little notebook that Carmen had handed him earlier that day. He must have absent-mindedly pocketed it. He had no idea when, how, or even if he’d be able to return it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to. It was bad to take someone else’s property, but now that Carmen had some myrrh, she wouldn’t need to read about him to know who he was. He idly opened it to a page somewhere in the middle.

“Doesn’t like to talk. – May 11”

“Shame, he has a nice voice. – May 27”

“Wears a big tattered cloak with a hood. – June 9”

“Likes snow. – July 30”

“WHY DID NONE OF YOU WARN ME HE’S SO HANDSOME – November 3”

Face burning, he closed the book. Inanna, sensing that he was done with it, moved closer and gently took the notebook in her teeth. He released his grip and she retreated to her bed with it.

“You miss her, huh?”

Inanna nibbled on the notebook a little before putting her head down and sighing gruffly.

Muriel looked at Asra and watched his chest rise and fall to confirm that he was still breathing normally. The magician and he had been closer than siblings ever since they were young, and Muriel could feel the emotional weight of the past three years on his shoulders. Even though Asra raised her from the dead, Carmen – their Carmen – would never come back. It had been a bittersweet victory, embittered even further when they realized how truly unhappy she was without her memory. Tonight was not the first time that Muriel had found her seeking refuge from the bottom of a bottle, and it wouldn’t be the last.

When Inanna turned her attention back to the notebook, so did Muriel.

“Yeah… we miss her too.”

[thestoryofme13]

Fireworks

A/N: So I wrote this fic about a year ago for the lovely @nyxwordsmith for their birthday. This was based on a dream they had and so I made it a thing. 

Summary: Roman and Patton are back together for the summer but something gets in the way, so when they do get time together after a schedule change they take advantage of it.

Warnings: Minor anxiety, Showering scene (is safe for work but a little odd), crying, kissing, non-sexual nudity, swearing

Pairing: Royality

Part of Two Hearts Beat as One AU: Part 1

Finally, summer break was upon them, which meant Roman and Patton would be together without interruption. They had both decided to opt out of summer classes, their normal semesters were stressful enough. Summer was a much-needed break from the school work and never-ending hours of other obligations.

The summer thus far had been relatively slow which neither of them minded. Roman had taken up a part-time job at an ice cream shop, while Patton had decided to work at the hospital as an externship.

Roman and Patton had tried to keep their schedule as similar to each other as possible but sometimes it didn’t work out. The past two weeks were a very good representation of the best-laid plans often going awry. Patton had been given the overnight shifts because the usual intern that worked was on vacation and he was incapable of saying no.

Telling Roman that he had taken the overnight shifts for a couple of weeks had gone better than he thought but it still was one of his least favorite conversations.

~Flashback~

Patton had planned on meeting Roman after they both got off work, actually, he planned on picking his boyfriend up from the ice cream shop, Sweet Divine. He pulled up to the curb and smiled as he saw Roman.

Roman got into the car and immediately noticed that Patton was more fidgety than usual, “Baby, what’s the matter.”

Patton sighed and laughed a little, “Sometimes I wish you weren’t as observant as you are.” He took a breath, “I--um...don’t be mad.”

Roman’s breathing increased and his hands got sweaty, it was rare for him to see Patton looking so nervous and scared to say something, which meant it must be important, “Pat...100% honesty remember?”

Patton turned the key and shut off the engine of the car, then shifted to face Roman, “The intern who usually works nights...well they are on vacation. Soitooktheshift…’m sorry.

“Baby...you had me worried. I know we wanted to keep our schedules as similar as possible but this isn’t the end of the world. What times do you work now?”  Roman let out the breath he was holding.

Patton looked away, “11 at night to 11 in the morning….”

Roman sighed, “Okay yeah that fucking sucks considering I work 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.”

“I ruined it….”  Patton said as he scrubbed at his eyes now realizing that tears were falling.

Roman gently reached out his hand to Patton’s, “I’m not angry, baby. It is frustrating but you want to help always and I know that. Someone said they needed help and in a very you fashion became their knight in shining armor, just like you are mine.”

Patton giggled, “Ro….that was sappy!!!” His voice whiny and giggly.

Roman laughed, “Of course it was sappy. I am your soulmate. It would take a lot more for me to be angry than for my plans to be a little skewed.”

Patton smiled and leaned over the armrest to kiss Roman quickly before driving back to the apartment.

It had been a long shift and all Patton wanted now was to go home and sleep. At this point, he wasn’t even sure what day of the week it was.  Just that he needed to get back to the apartment. It was at this moment he was very thankful for living in an apartment rather than in the dorms still.     

Patton had wanted the college experience for his first year but once that was over he was more than ready to live off campus and not share a room with someone. He and his roommate, Logan, had gotten along enough that they decided to share a two-bedroom apartment off campus after freshman year ended. Which worked out great because when Roman came back from Julliard he could live with them, Patton had checked with Logan to make sure it was okay first.

He pulled into his parking spot noticing that Roman’s motorcycle was still home, but didn’t think much of it. Sometimes Roman walked to work or caught a ride with someone else and Patton was aware that his boyfriend was never home when he got home so that didn’t even cross his mind. The only things on his mind currently were getting out of his scrubs, a hot shower, and his bed. Oh and his day off tomorrow since the overnight intern, Remy, would be back.

He put the car in park and got out heading toward the complex and up to the apartment. It was a battle to keep his eyes open but Patton felt gross and was in dire need of a shower. He opened the door to his apartment and headed straight for the bathroom.

Roman was watching TV on the couch when he saw Patton walk in the door, his boyfriend looked tired beyond words. He followed Patton and entered the bathroom after the shower had started. He sat himself on the lid of the toilet, “Hey baby.”

 “Roman what the hell! I could’ve died,” Patton screamed and pulled the curtain back slightly.

Roman rolled his eyes, “And you say I’m dramatic….I missed you.”

Patton stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend,  “I missed you too, but why are you home?”

Roman looked confused, “You have no idea what day it is, do you?”

Patton blushed, “I think it is June 30?”

“Baby...you didn’t even get the month right, it is July 4th,” Roman shook his head and laughed.

Patton’s eyes went wide, “Oh! That’s why you’re home! The shop is closed for the holiday!” He moved back under the water to get the shampoo out since he had been distracted by his boyfriend’s existence, “Oh, Ro?”

Roman just laughed as it set in just how exhausted his boyfriend was,  “Yes, my love?”

Patton was now spreading the soap over his body, trying to finish his shower quickly. His boyfriend being home giving him new energy, “I have my old shift back. Remy is back starting tonight.”

Roman squealed and jumped in the shower wanting to hug his boyfriend and completely forgetting he had clothes on and that he would get soaked, “That means you get to enjoy the holiday and we get to hang out again!”

Patton squeaked as he felt Roman’s arms wrap around him, “Roman!!! You are dressed!!! I am in the shower!!! What is happening!”

Roman laughed and blushed hard, “I got excited okay! I missed you. Going to sleep without you these past two weeks have sucked, it was like being back at school and I am not ready for that yet.” He moved towards the back of the shower letting Patton go begrudgingly.

Patton smiled as he finished washing off, then turned the water off, leaning to kiss Roman, “I love you and you’re so adorable.” There was no point in trying to keep Roman from getting wet considering he was already drenched. He wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck pulling him in close for a slow kiss.

Roman immediately melted against his boyfriend, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around Patton’s wet waist. He sighed happily against Patton’s lips, leaning against the back wall of the shower.

Patton pulled away with a smirk, “I need to dry off and you need to either undress and shower or get changed. I will put you in the dryer!”

Roman made a noise of offense, “Patton you would not dare put me in there...again!”

Patton smiled and kissed Roman softly, “I did not put you in it last time! You decided to see if you could fit and I closed the door.”

Roman playfully batted at Patton’s arm, “You’re awful. Why do I put up with you?”

Patton laughed, “Because you’re mad--ly in love with me.”

Roman groaned and smacked him lightly, “That was awful. Get out of here!”

“Did you literally tell me to get out of the shower? Excuse you! I was in here first and actually showering,” Patton said with a smile and shaking his head.

Roman laughed, “Okay fine. Counterproposal, we both get out and get dressed.”

Patton laughed and interlaced his fingers with Roman’s “Okay fine but you are coming with me. I missed you, Ro.”

They both got out of the shower. Patton grabbing his towel as Roman peeled his wet clothes off and grabbed another towel. Then the pair headed to the bedroom to change into some dry clothes.

Once dressed Patton flopped on the bed, his second burst of energy having passed. His eyes fluttering closed until he felt the bed dip and saw Roman.

Roman smiled at his tired boyfriend, “I think a nap is in order, baby.”

Patton whined and curled in on himself, “‘m not tired.”

Roman laughed and shook his head, “Uh-huh. If you’re not tired then I’m the queen of England.”

Patton laughed a little, “I don’t wanna sleep, Ro.”

Roman moved Patton so that he was on his side of the bed and his legs weren’t hanging off the edge. He wrapped his arms around Patton’s waist as he laid back with his boyfriend on his chest.

After a couple minutes and some more whining from Patton, Roman gave up and decided to use his ‘off switch’, “I’m sorry, baby, but you are tired. I’ll wake you up later.” He slowly moved one hand so it threaded through Patton’s hair. After repeating this action four or five times, Patton was asleep. Roman felt himself drifting off soon after, completely content to spend the entire day with Patton asleep in his arms.

Patton woke up first. He opened his eyes and released a content sigh against Roman’s chest. Letting himself adjust to the room, he rolled over and looked out the window, it was dark. How long had they been asleep? He moved and grabbed his phone from the bedside table, checking to see the time, it was 8:30 p.m. They had both been asleep for nearly seven hours.

He moved back into Roman’s arms, looking up at his boyfriend and tracing his jawline with sweet innocent kisses. Once Patton came to kiss Roman’s chin, he was met with his boyfriend’s lips instead. Patton hummed happily into the kiss, “You’re awake, babe.”

Roman smiled and tightened his grip around Patton’s waist, “Well you found a great way to wake me up, dearheart.”

“Babe....You know that one makes me all flustered,” Patton managed to squeak out, hiding his face against Roman’s neck.

Roman laughed, “Exactly why I used it. I love you, Patton.”

Patton removed his head from Roman’s neck and looked down at him, “I love you too, re mio.”

“We should get up, watch the fireworks,” Roman suggested as he tried to fight off the blush spreading across his face.

Patton frowned, “Ro, neither of us even like fireworks. They are too loud.”

Roman sighed, “Ah yes, but they are so pretty.” He moved Patton a little and sat up some more, “We could probably see the ones downtown from your balcony.”

Patton smiled, “Then it wouldn’t be so loud. They are going to start soon though babe, let’s get up.”

After much moaning and groaning from both of the boys, they got up and moved towards the balcony, deciding that dinner could wait until after. Neither of them really big fans of eating immediately after waking up.

Patton opened the glass door and allowed Roman to step out first. They leaned against the railing shoulder to shoulder for a few moments taking in the warm and humid night air.

Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s waist knowing that the fireworks would be starting soon and that the contact would help keep both of them grounded.

The fireworks started soon after they walked out onto the balcony. The dark night sky painted with so many different colors: red, blue, purple, and white amongst others. The designs ranging from simple spirals to intricate flower shapes.

Patton tried focusing on the fireworks but each time his mind would wander to the beautiful man standing next to him. He found himself staring at Roman more than the fireworks, not that he truly minded.

“You’re missing the show, baby,” Roman said teasingly when he felt Patton’s eyes on him.

Patton blushed at having been caught but quickly recovered, “You are my show, Roman.”

Roman tore his eyes away from the display and looked at Patton, “W--what?”

Patton smiled, flustering his boyfriend didn’t happen often but when it did it was so cute, “The fireworks are beautiful and I know that I don’t see them often but Roman… You’re so much more interesting. The way your eyes light up when you see one that is particularly pretty or the face you pull when they should’ve built up the dramatic effect for the larger displays.”

Roman blushed, “You’ve been watching me this entire time?”

Patton leaned in and kissed Roman’s nose, “Of course I have. My boyfriend is far more interesting than some fireworks display. Roman, you are the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen. You know how I can never get anything done when we video chat?”

Roman nodded prompting Patton to continue, “I get so lost in all the faces you make when you are working on things. Or when you try new dance moves your eyes light up when you get them correct or if you mess up you get this look of determination that says you’ll repeat this until you get it right.”

Roman wiped at the tears on his face, “I didn’t know that you were that observant.”

“I am always watching you because you are so interesting. You are similar to me but not, in so many ways. I want to be able to remember everything you do for when we have to go back to school, back to long distance. While I know we have our entire lives ahead of us to be together, I like to take advantage of the time we spend together whether in person or video chat,” Patton said as he smiled looking into Roman’s eyes like he was the only person on Earth.

Roman was full on sobbing, “You are not allowed to be this sappy, Pat!”

Patton took Roman into his arms, “You do this to me all the time! With surprise gifts and displays of affection! Let me have this!”

“Fine. You can have this but only if you kiss me,” Roman retorted the words coming out mixed with laughter. Then he moved his face away from his boyfriend’s chest slightly, looking up at the other man.

Patton laughed and smiled, “Deal.” With that Patton placed his hand under Roman’s chin bringing his lips to meet his own in a slow drawn out kiss. The fireworks around them having been long forgotten. At this moment the only thing that mattered was each other and how their lips felt against the other.

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Royality Tag List: @fandersfic-royality​

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[purrincess-chat]

Midnight Rose CH1

Hello! Here is the first chapter of my JuleRose story for my fantasy AU! It technically goes along with a few prompts from the JuleRose June calendar, and I will warn you now, this is a sad story (for now anyways), so come chapter 5 don’t expect a happy or even bittersweet ending like A Merman’s Heart. The ending of this one is kind of a wtf moment, but that’ll make sense when we get there. No one dies (who isn’t already established as dead from the beginning), so don’t worry about that, but this story isn’t as cheerful as Within the Garden Walls, okay? I say this with full transparency so no one gets their nose into something they don’t want. You’ve been warned. Proceed with caution.

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Rose didn’t like to cause trouble.

She was a good girl from a well-off family, and she bore her title with grace and propriety. Of course, this didn’t mean she was stuck up, in fact, she was quite the opposite. Wherever she went she did her best to show everyone kindness and fairness, and as such, she had friends in many different walks of life. Working women, nobles, and even a few peasants for Rose never really saw herself as being above anyone else given the circumstances of her birth, and she sought to treat everyone with respect.

It made her one of the most well-liked bachelorettes in town, and many sought her hand in marriage, though she had yet to find a match that suited her. Most tempting was a prince in a neighboring kingdom, but she was reluctant to leave behind her friends and family, so she had declined him for now. They still wrote each other letters from time to time and remained good friends.

It was a rather bemusing situation that she found herself in with so many men asking for her hand in marriage and yet none of them quite convinced her to take the plunge. How could someone so eligible have such a hard time finding love? She absolutely adored the idea of being with her true love, but the truth of the matter was that she just hadn’t found that person yet, not that she let it get her down. No matter how bleak her love life looked, Rose strived to live every day to the fullest, brightening as many faces as she could with kind words and service. She’d come to know everyone in town quite well this way, and new faces didn’t go unnoticed by her. Which is why when a mysterious new girl moved to town, she was the first to know.

Rose first spotted her in the market picking up some herbs and fish, and after a moment, she realized that it was a face she’d never seen before. It was against her personal code of conduct to allow someone to go ungreeted, so she approached her with a sunny grin.

“Hello,” She said, stepping in front of her as the girl sifted through the fresh sage.

“…” The girl seemed to startle a little upon being addressed, and she mumbled what Rose supposed was a greeting.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before. My name is Rose; are you new to town?” She asked, and the girl flicked her gaze around as if looking for an escape route. Coming up empty, she simply nodded, hoping to appease her. “That’s so awesome! Do you need help carrying your groceries home? Which direction do you live in? I’d be happy to walk with you.”

“Ah…” She averted her gaze, covering her mouth with her fingers a little.

Why was she so interested in Juleka’s life? Had she been acting suspiciously? Did she suspect Juleka’s secret? She wasn’t used to people talking to her so much, and she suddenly missed her quiet village back home where most people left her alone in peace. Moving to this town was already risky enough, but Juleka couldn’t stay at her old home any more. The people there had become too wary and had she stayed longer, things could have gotten dangerous.

This girl seemed nice, but Juleka knew that underneath her cheery smile was someone that could never accept her for who she truly was, and when you lived a life like hers, it was better to keep your head down and avoid making connections with people. Doing so would only cause her more trouble in the end, and the last thing she wanted was to be discovered.

“I’ve got it. Thanks,” She said quietly, but Rose didn’t seem to hear her because she took the bag off Juleka’s arm and draped it over her own.

“So tell me about yourself. Where are you from?” Rose continued as Juleka debated just leaving her purchases and making a run for it, but she really needed that lavender for her latest…project as she’d call it.

“It’s a small village. You’ve probably never heard of it,” Juleka replied, attempting to distract herself with shopping to no avail. Rose was quite persistent much to her annoyance.

“I have friends from all over the place just try me,” She insisted with a proud glint in her eye, and Juleka suppressed a sigh knowing that it would be easier to just cooperate until she was satisfied.

“Étoile,” She answered finally, and Rose tapped her chin in thought.

“I think I have heard of it actually,” She said thoughtfully. “Isn’t that the place where they burned a witch coven 15 years ago?”

Juleka felt her blood run cold at the mention of that day, but she hid her fear behind an emotionless mask. She’d learned a long time ago how to conceal her true feelings to save her life, but that day was a particularly sore subject.

“Yeah.” She said flatly, examining a potato and concentrating on remembering the things her brother asked her to pick up. “I don’t really remember it much cause I was just a little kid.”

“It must have been awfully frightening, but I bet you felt safer once they were dead.” Rose shuddered at the thought, and Juleka trailed her thumb over the ring on her finger with a frown.

“I really don’t remember.” She shrugged.

“Oh, I guess it’s for the best then,” Rose pursed her lips but didn’t stay down for long. “Do you need someone to show you around town? I’d be happy to give you a tour!”

“No thank you,” Juleka shook her head and quickly added, “I’m actually staying with my brother who has lived here for a while, so he’s already shown me everything I need.”

“Oh really? That’s awesome! Who’s your brother?” Rose was really beginning to grate on her nerves, but she knew better than to let her temper flare up after what happened last time, so she played along throughout the rest of her market trip until they made it back to her brother’s apartment.

“Hey, you should come to my house for tea some time,” Rose offered, handing the rest of the bags off to Juleka.

“Uh, I’ll probably be busy for a while, settling in and whatnot,” She said just wanting this interaction to be over.

“Oh, right.” Rose winced, knotting bits of her dress in her fist. “Well, don’t be a stranger, okay?”

If Juleka had her way they’d likely never speak again, but she offered a nod and pushed the door open with her back effectively closing the door on that relationship as she made her way up the stairs. Luka was napping on the couch when she entered, but she made no effort to be quiet as she slammed the bags down on the table in the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets to put everything away.

“Julie, you’ve always been the quiet one. Why all of the noise now?” He groaned after a while, shifting onto his side.

“Sorry, I’m just annoyed,” She mumbled, and he sat up with piqued interest, stretching an arm above his head.

“What happened? Are you okay? Do you feel like you’re gonna-”

“No.” She cut him off abruptly, stuffing the vegetables into the fridge and slapping a fish down onto a cutting board. “I’m fine just some chatty girl at the market.”

“Yeah, there are a lot of those around here,” Luka said dismissively, retrieving the carton of milk from the fridge and taking a swig.

“She brought up the night mom died,” Juleka stated as she cleaned the meat off the bone for her lazy black cat who laid in the window in the living room, and Luka paused momentarily before closing the milk and returning it to its spot.

“And?” He cocked a brow. “How’d you handle it?”

“It just reminded me that I’m not exactly welcome here,” She growled, eyes burning, and Luka placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re lucky that you ended up mortal like dad. You don’t have to worry about hiding your secret from the world.”

“No.” He nodded, pressing his lips into a firm line. “But I do have to worry about my baby sister being burned at the stake for something she can’t help.”

Luka placed his hands over hers and gently removed the knife, setting it aside as Juleka buried her face in his chest. He held her tightly, petting her hair and whispering soothing vows of protection until her shaking ceased. Penny left her perch to join them, rubbing against Juleka’s legs and purring until she stooped to pick her up.

“I’m surprised this old hag is still alive,” Luka remarked, scratching behind her ears.

“Familiars live as long as their masters do, so hopefully she’ll have many more years left in her life,” She said matter-of-factly, kissing her forehead and setting her on the counter next to the plate of tuna she’d cut up. “Besides, she’s one of the last things I have that Mom gave me.”

“Are you going to practice in the woods tonight?” Luka asked, rubbing an apple on his shirt before taking a bite.

“Just a few protection spells to cast on the house,” She said with a nod, leaning against the counter while Penny munched away happily.

“Be careful,” Luka instructed solemnly with a pointed look, and Juleka flashed him a sardonic grin.

“Aren’t I always?”

[silverleafnightshade-blog]

The Omen

Richard Donner’s 1976 film about the Antichrist’s early days is touted by critics as one of the scariest horror movies of all times, and I am in agreement. I first watched this movie at far too tender of an age, with way too much Catholic upbringing holding sway over my wee brain. Apparently, though, the screenwriter David Seltzer was no believer in heaven and hell. He stated that he wrote the script for the money, and he set it in London because he wanted a free trip to England. Seltzer was somewhat horrified at the public’s reaction to the film, which he considered based on superstitious rubbish. Religious superstition or not, though, there are several scenes from this flick that are indelibly inscribed in my memories, e.g. the grisly deaths of the priest, nanny, and photographer, even if some of the special effects have not aged as well (see: severed head).

Seltzer’s moxie in getting a free trip to London is as refreshing as a glass of his namesake, and our cup bubbleth over with amazing landmarks on location. Front and center is the British abode of Ambassador Robert Thorn (Gregory Peck), scouted for him by his lovely wife Kathy (Lee Remick). The actual location is Pyrford Court of Surrey, and the old Guiness estate to boot. Let’s compare their former Italian digs (in Rome, where they adopted their son Damien):

I like that wallpaper, I do, but I feel like we’re supposed to find the Italians tacky, what with their self-referencing busts, shiny finishes, and demon-spawn adoption policies. In comparison, you get the Brits and their “classy” take on the Roman-Greco expo:

Pyford Court is classified as a Grade II historic building, built in the Neo-Carolean (or Restoration) style. This is probably what most Americans might think of as the ���Masterpiece Theater” style, all velvet upholstery and tapestries and scrolls on every goddamn thing. Its heyday was really only a quarter of a century (1660-1685), during the reign of Charles II, but the trend reared its gilded head again about 200 years later. It was to the early 1900s as midcentury modern is to now, maybe.

We really get a good look at that scroll work after nanny (Holly Palance, Jack’s daughter) ends up dangling next to one of the windows. “Look at me, Damien!” she shouts before jumping off a ledge with a noose around her neck. “It’s all for you!”

My next birthday, maybe just get me gift card, okay? But check out those flanking scrolls and floral carvings!

Yeah, I can see how the eye might get distracted.  

Kathy starts to suspect there’s something not right with the boy after a couple of disastrous visits to a church and the zoo. Upon approaching the church, Damien loses his shit. 

Of course, the angel statue on top is giving a Nazi salute, so that might be the problem. 

Or maybe Damien just hates Kathy’s turban?

I think it’s quite lovely, but that shit gets torn off and fast.

At the zoo, giraffes run in fear from Damien and the baboons attack the car. The giraffes, sure, but the baboon attack seems to just be what baboons will do if given the chance. As a kid, my family often visited Parc Safari in Quebec, which is also a drive-through zoo. What brilliant parkitect came up with the idea to let visitors drive their own cars through a preserve? It seemed like there was a mauling at least once a year. I don’t remember a time where we didn’t have a primate of some sort pissing on the windshield or ripping off the antennae (which made for a grimly radio-free drive back to Vermont). My research shows that the drive-through is still there, but they now keep the feistier creatures off the road.

Meanwhile, Robert is getting visits from Father Crazy Eyes (Patrick Troughton), who suggests maybe a little Abraham-Isaac cosplay. And did he mention that Kathy is pregnant? Robert gets offended and all finger-shaking, and warns off the padre. 

Wasted breath, as the poor priest ends up impaled in a freak storm outside a rather charming church (All Saints in Fulham). I guess that’s just what happens when a Catholic priest tries to access the Church of England? 

But a curious photographer named Jennings (David Warner) thinks this is no accident, though. He’s been taking photos that seem to predict the demises of Nanny Noose and Father Crazy Eyes, and uh-oh, there’s one for him too.

Kathy discusses her feelings with Robert. For some reason, she has a photo of herself bedside. I don’t understand this. If it’s for Kathy, then why not just a mirror? If it’s for Robert, then why not just roll over? 

Anyway, that’s a pretty bedroom. 

Still, Kathy is feeling less than motherly, though, and who can blame her? Look at this goddamn painting!

Ferfuckssake, who decorated this room, Tod Browning? Kathy distracts herself by engaging in some fern watering practices frowned upon by OSHA, and little demon-seed plows his trike into her. I love these shots of Damien looking down on the fallen Kathy through the balustrades…

…and then booking it the hell out of there.

Robert and Jennings book it themselves to Rome to find some answers. They go to the hospital where Damien was born and there they also find my favorite archived architectural feature, the paternoster! It’s an open elevator on a chain that loops open compartments, and Jesus Christos, they were dangerous. People died or lost limbs in those death boxes all the time. The name comes from the “Our Father” prayer, ostensibly because the chain of compartments were like rosary beads, but more likely because you said a prayer before jumping on.

Thorn and Jennings find the corrupt priest responsible for Damien’s adoption, then tangle with some devil-dogs at the cemetery where the real Baby Thorn (Wee Prick?) was interred. Meanwhile, Kathy takes a swan dive out of her hospital window, courtesy of Mrs. Baylock (Billie Whitelaw).

Robert and Jennings hit a little town outside of Jerusalem, where they meet Carl Bugenhagen (Leo McKern), an archeologist and exorcist whom I shall refer to as AMB (Alcoholic Mel Brooks). 

AMB has a nice bundle of knives and instructions on how to stick them into Damien. Robert balks and Jennings completely, uh, loses his head. Robert manages to fly back to England with the knives (pre-9/11, amirite?) but he gets gunned down by the police before he can slay the beast. The last shot is of Damien standing with the President of the United States, his foster dad’s old buddy and Damien’s new daddy. 

And thus a franchise was born!

I am getting this one in just under the wire - it’s technically still June, right? For July, I’ve got the original 70s horror house planned. Check back in!

[simplegift96]

Of dances and second chances

My SNS secret santa gift to @naruhinaluvrx. I am so, so sorry that this is about a week late! Things got a bit too hectic the past month and before I knew it, Christmas snuck up on me without me having anything to show for it. I pretty much got free reign over this so I really hope that you enjoy it!

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!

~~oOo~~

May, 2007

“Hi! I’m Naruto. What’s your name?”

Silence.

“Hey, kid, do you have a name?” Naruto asks once more, scratching the back of his head. Is he deaf or what?

“You realise that you and I are the same age, right?” The other guy scoffs before turning back around to listen to their camp counsellor.

“So, you did hear me!” Naruto grins, folding his arms in front of his chest. “So do you have a name or not?”

“Tch, idiot.”

“Tch, idiot,” Naruto mimics, turning back to the front of the room.

“Alright, guys, I’ll just do a quick roll call and all of y’all can head off to your rooms, okay?” The camp counsellor calls out, quickly gathering everyone’s attention.

“Have you gone camping before?” Naruto questions, tuning out the camp counsellors and turning to the nameless guy beside him again.

Silence.

“Ouch,” Naruto remarks, tuning back in just in time to catch the last few names on the roll call.

“Sasuke Uchiha.”

“Here,” the guy beside him calls out.

“Naruto Uzumaki.”

“Here,” Naruto answers faintly, turning back to the guy from earlier. “Sasuke Uchiha, huh? Nice to meet you.”

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

Naruto paces back and forth in his dressing room. To say that he’s nervous would be an understatement.

“C’mon, Naruto. You’ve done this before. You’ve entered competitions before, and you’ve always nailed them. What’s so different about this one?”

Oh, who is he kidding. Of course this competition is different. It’s his first international competition, not to mention that he’s competing against Sasuke-freaking-Uchiha. Sasuke Uchiha. Damn. He hasn’t heard that name in years.

Knock. Knock.

Hinata peeks her head inside. “Hey, Naruto, are you ready?”

Naruto smiles. Never has he been more grateful to have Hinata as his dancing partner. She always manages to calm him down, especially before all their competitions. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do without her.

~~oOo~

June, 2010

“Naruto, calm down,” Hinata says fondly, placing her hand on Naruto’s shoulder in hopes of calming down his furious leg shaking. Naruto startles, turning quickly towards Hinata. He gives her a sheepish grin and promptly stops shaking his leg.

“Sorry, I’m a little nervous is all.”

Hinata offers him a small smile. “I know. But you’ve worked really hard for this – we both have.” She takes his hand and laces their fingers together. “No matter what happens, just remember to have fun. Besides, we get to meet other professional competitors! Maybe get their autographs, or tips from them!”

Naruto laughs. “You’re right. This is a great opportunity for both of us. Oh! Do you think we’ll get to meet Haku and Zabusa Momochi!?”

Hinata lights up, clasping her hands together. “I hope so!”

“Oh! Here’s our train!” Naruto exclaims, quickly standing up and gathering both his and Hinata’s luggages.

“Naruto, slow down!” Hinata laughs.

“C’mon, Hinata, we’re gonna get left behind – oh, sorry!” Naruto apologises, turning towards the stranger.

“Tch, idiot.”

“Hey, I said I was…,” Naruto trails off, staring dumbfoundedly after the stranger.  No way. It couldn’t possibly be him. But it’s been three years. There was no way that Sasuke –

“Excuse me, sir!” Naruto starts to call out before a hand grabs his attention.

“Hey, Naruto, I found free seats over here,” Hinata informs him, pointing to the opposite direction of where the stranger – no, Sasuke. It’s definitely Sasuke – is headed.

“I’m, uh, yeah. I’m coming,” Naruto stammers out absentmindedly, looking back once more at where he thought he’d seen Sasuke head off. But when he turns around, Sasuke had already disappeared.

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

It’s been seven years since then. He hasn’t seen neither hide nor hair of Sasuke Uchiha. Well, at least not in person, and certainly not in as close a proximity as back then. Heck, he and Sasuke aren’t even living in the same countries! The last Naruto has heard of the three-time Professional World Ballroom winner is that he’s off living the time of his life out in France, while Naruto is still stuck in Oregon. But, whatever. It’s not like he cared about him or anything. Sasuke is the first to cut off any sort of contact with Naruto after all, not that he still holds a grudge against that or anything, but a little heads up would’ve been well appreciated. Instead, Naruto is left waiting patiently for Sasuke’s next message. Naruto just… waited, and waited, and waited… For several months, Naruto waited patiently for Sasuke’s next message, until his mom sat him down and told him that maybe Sasuke didn’t want to contact him anymore.

At first, Naruto couldn’t understand it. Why would Sasuke suddenly stop messaging him? They’re, well, they were in a relationship together, and they had promised to keep in contact with each other no matter what. But after a few tentative messages, Sasuke just… stopped. No warnings, no preludes to it – nothing. Naruto didn’t understand it. Oftentimes he would replay what he said in his texts, taking apart each word that he wrote down, trying to pinpoint where, exactly, he went wrong. But he’s no closer to an answer now than back then, all those years ago.

He just… He just misses Sasuke. He misses him so, so much.

~~oOo~~

May, 2007

“Hey, Sasuke, are you coming to bonfire night tonight?” Naruto asks, excitedly, bouncing up and down on his spot on the floor beside Sasuke’s bed.

“Probably.” Sasuke raises an eyebrow. “Besides, knowing you, I’ll probably get dragged out whether I want to or not.”

“You bet your ass, you will!” Naruto grins unabashedly, pulling a small, soft smile from Sasuke. “You’re such a boring homebody that as your best friend, it is my duty to make sure you socialise and not give in to your inner vampire.”

“Tch, who says I haven’t gone full vampire yet?” Sasuke challenges, marking his place on his book.

“Well, you haven’t tried to drink my blood yet, so I’m pretty sure! I’m pretty irresistible, after all.” Naruto smirks, gesturing up and down his body.

“Uh-uh,” Sasuke replies, turning back to his book.

“Hey, I so am! If you were a vampire, you wouldn’t be able to resist taking a bite out of my veins, ‘cause I’ve got the tastiest blood out of everybody here!” Naruto boasts, puffing out his chest.

Sasuke puts down his book once more and regards Naruto intensely, making Naruto shift self-consciously at his spot on the floor.

“What, bastard? Why are you looking at me like that?” He demands.

“Nothing. I was just thinking that I wouldn’t mind tasting your blood at all,” Sasuke casually says, turning his attention back to his book.

“Wh-What?” Naruto sputters. “You can’t just say stuff like that out loud!”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“’Because’ what? Isn’t that exactly what you were saying just a minute ago?”

“Well – yeah. But that was different!”

“How?”

“Just – they just are!”

Sasuke hums. “Whatever you say, idiot.”

“Hmph! Bastard.”

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

Naruto grips Hinata’s hand as they stand side-by-side awaiting the final results. They had managed to snag second place; a feat that is amazing in and of itself, considering that it’s their first ever competition. Naruto places a soft, chaste kiss at Hinata’s temple, sighing in relief. Hinata giggles in response, taking their shared hands and swinging it back and forth gently, her other hand gripping the flowers that’s been given to her.

It’s over. The competition is finally over, bringing with it about forty percent of Naruto’s worries and tension. The other sixty percent, however…well. The other sixty percent is standing less than five feet away from him and – damn. Naruto almost forgot how breath-taking Sasuke is. His mere presence demands attention; from his elegant poise to his striking eyes, none would dare take their eyes off him. Naruto isn’t sure if they even could – he certainly couldn’t.

“And the winner is Anko Mitarashi and Sasuke Uchiha!”

The two winners approach the centre stage with a sense of self-confidence and pride that Naruto isn’t sure he could ever achieve. He watches them receive their medals and trophy, acutely aware that he’s glaring holes into their sides, which is totally uncalled for. He’s happy with what he’s won, with what he and Hinata have won. It was more than he could ever hope for, entering a competition as big as this. Next year, he’ll be even more ready, work even harder and succeed in taking the trophy home. Next year he’ll swipe that arrogant smirk on Sasuke’s face that he’s directing towards… him… Wait, what?

Naruto shakes his head profusely. Sasuke couldn’t possibly be – but he is. He really is. Sasuke is looking straight at Naruto with a look of barely veiled contempt, haughtiness and sadness…?

Does he… does Sasuke remember Naruto? After all these years?

~~oOo~~

July, 2016

“Naruto, be careful!” Kushina berates him as he attempts to walk upstairs using his crutches. Naruto rolls his eyes in exasperation. Ever since he accidentally broke his leg all those weeks ago, his mom has constantly been fussing and fretting over him. Honestly, it’s getting a little suffocating.

“I’m fine, mom. I’ve gone up the stairs, by myself, plenty of times before.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man!” She scolds him, even as she hovers by the stairs until he has reached the top landing. Naruto loves his mom, he really does. But sometimes, he wishes that she doesn’t baby him so much. He’s twenty-four years old now, for crying out loud. He can handle himself.

“I can hear you muttering over there!”

Dammit. He’s forgotten how good her hearing is.

Naruto carefuly manoeuvres himself onto his bed, elevating his injured leg with a few pillows, and then supporting his back with a few more pillows. Frankly, he has more pillows around him than he thinks there is in the house. He wonders briefly where his mom got them from.

He props his laptop onto his lap and proceeds to scroll through the latest news. Because of his injury, he couldn’t compete at this year’s World Dance Championships. As a result, Hinata also backed out of this year’s competition, being Naruto’s partner. He shakes his head self-deprecatingly. He feels guilty at having taken this chance away from Hinata because of his own stupidity. He’s worked so hard to reach this point, and only to what? Throw it all away because a stupid injury? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He continues to scroll through the news, excited for everyone involved, but ultimately frustrated at not being able to join them, before he stops at the picture of, surprise, surprise, Sasuke Uchiha. The article says that he’ll be competing at the World Dance Championships for the third time with his new partner, Temari Suna.

New partner, huh?

Naruto wonders what happened to the previous one, or the one before that, or the one before that. Sasuke never seems to keep the same partner for more than a year, constantly flitting about from one new partner to the next. Is this some sort of a challenge for Sasuke? Is this him challenging himself with new partners every single year? Not that it makes much difference. Sasuke has brought home the trophies for the previous two years, and would undoubtedly bring home this year’s trophy as well.

Naruto takes a split-second to debate re-watching Sasuke’s previous dance performances, before he inevitably pulls up his favourite dance performance and settles in to watch.

Sasuke is… well, breath-taking. Otherworldly. Beautiful. Throughout the years, Sasuke only seems to grow more in grace and stature. To Naruto, he’s unreachable, and it’s hard to believe that they were once playing in the same field.

But Naruto is nothing but persistent, and he is determined that next year, he and Sasuke will be in the same stage once more. He swears it.

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

Naruto only takes a moment to question his decision before he heads to Sasuke at the far corner of the room. He’s been contemplating talking to Sasuke ever since the end of the competition; ever since Sasuke stared at him with such intensity that all of his previous memories with him are brought back in stark clarity.

His hands are shaking; his palms are sweating; he can’t do this. He can’t… he can’t do it.

Instead, Naruto changes course and heads out into the balcony of the two-storey building. He would rather be alone with his own thoughts that risk facing Sasuke and not have him remember Naruto at all. He would only make a fool of himself.

He sighs in frustration, carding his hand exasperatedly through his hair. He takes a good, long sip from his champagne flute before setting it down at a nearby table. His hands are too unsteady; he might end up dropping the glass, and that would be another thing he’d have to worry about.

“Naruto, are you okay?”

Hinata. Wonderful, wonderful Hinata. His second love and confidant. He isn’t even sure how she knew where to find him, or that he would need the comforting presence of another, but, really, he shouldn’t be so surprised. He and Hinata have known each other for so long now that they practically share the same thoughts together. He wonders where it all went wrong, wonders why his heart didn’t pursue Hinata with the same fervour as Sasuke. After all, it’s Hinata that stayed with him all these years. It’s Hinata that remained patient with him after he became hung up after Sasuke cut his ties with him.

Despite all this, he knows that it would’ve been unfair to Hinata, and to himself, if they remained in a relationship together. She deserves someone better; someone who would cherish her with all their heart; someone who wouldn’t remain hung-up after someone they met at a summer camp ten years ago.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m fine,” Naruto answers her after a moment of silence. He cards his hand through his hair once more, messing it up even more – really, his hair is a lost cause anyway, so why not muss it up just a bit more?

“I just… I didn’t realise that it would feel like this, y’know? That seeing him again would make me feel so…” Naruto gestures vaguely, searching for the right word.

Complete.

Yeah, that’s the word. Sasuke makes him feel so whole and complete. It’s such an odd feeling to have, and one that he didn’t think he would ever feel again. It feels like a void within him is being filled once more, and it’s addicting. Naruto isn’t sure what would happen if he leaves tonight without having, at least talked to Sasuke. Maybe he’ll recover. Maybe he’ll be okay. One thing he knows for sure is that he won’t be the same again.

“I really,” he starts again, “I just really want to talk to him again. To ask him why he left me all those years ago, y’know? Maybe if I get that closure, then maybe… maybe I can finally stop being so goddamn obsessed over him,” he nearly growls in frustration.

“Naruto…” Hinata begins, but Naruto ploughs on anyway as if he hasn’t been interrupted.

“And what’s his damage anyway?” He lets out, his voice growing in volume. “Who the hell just promises to be with someone, promises to persevere, no matter the distance, and just… doesn’t!?”

“Naruto, I think you should…” Hinata tries again to no avail.

“Did I do something wrong, Hinata? Was it me?” He asks desperately, finally turning towards her. “Was he lying to me all those years ago when he said that he loved me?”

“Oh, Naruto…”

“I just,” Naruto sobs, fitting himself within Hinata’s embrace, unable to continue anymore.

“Shh,” Hinata hushes him, soothing his back as he sobs, and sobs, and sobs, uncaring for who might see. “It’ll be okay.”

~~oOo~~

July, 2007

“Hey, Sasuke.”

“Hmm?”

“What happens after?”

“…”

“After what?”

“Y’know, after camp ends. You live on the other side of the country from me. And it’s not like we can afford to see each other that often…”

“We’ll still keep in touch.”

Naruto turns to look at Sasuke.

“Hey, Sasuke… Thank you.”

Sasuke cocks an eyebrow at him. “For what?”

“For being you.”

“Stop being a sappy idiot and just lie back down on my lap.”

Naruto grins, settling back on Sasuke’s lap. They stay in silence for a while, Naruto counting Sasuke’s breaths and timing it with his own until he feels his eyelids droop down. He snuggles closer towards Sasuke, letting out a huge yawn before letting sleep stake its claim.

“Hey, Sasuke… I love you,” Naruto whispers.

“Idiot… I love you, too.”

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

Naruto and Hinata decides to spend the rest of the after-party out in the balcony. They recall memories from the past as Naruto rests his head on Hinata’s shoulder while Hinata runs her fingers through his hair. It’s nice and comfortable. Naruto nearly forgets about why they were outside in the first place.

When it gets too cold for either of them, they decide to head home. The part is still in full-swing inside, with most of the dancers out on the dance-floor, jamming it out to whatever hip-hop song is playing. Normally, Naruto would be out there, dancing to his heart’s content. But not tonight. He’s too spent to think about doing something as strenuous as dancing.

The pair nearly makes their way out the front door before a hand grabs a hold of Naruto’s arm, effectively stopping their movement.

“Naruto.”

Speak of the devil.

“Can we talk?”

Naruto turns at the request.

“Sorry, Mr. Uchiha, but my friend and I really ought to be going home right now. It’s getting fairly late.” With that, Naruto turns back towards the front entrance and resumes his exit. But Sasuke is persistent, his grip on Naruto’s arm tightening marginally.

“Naruto… please.” And, well. Naruto couldn’t really say no to that.

Sasuke leads Naruto into a secluded place at the back of the building, his grip on Naruto’s arm never letting up until they reached a back alley. Sasuke lets Naruto go, only to start pacing in front of him. Naruto remains silent. If Sasuke wanted to talk, then he’s going to have to talk first.

Naruto crosses his arms in front of him, patiently waiting for Sasuke to stop his pacing and finally talk to him.

Moments pass. Then moments turn into minutes. For all Naruto knows, he and Sasuke could’ve been out here for hours, with no hope of Sasuke actually speaking.

Naruto is a patient man. He can wait this out – He refuses to be the one to break. He is patient. He’s got patience in bucket loads, after all. He can keep his cool….

…Fuck it.

“Are you gonna start speaking anytime soon or did you just want an audience for,” Naruto gestures vaguely towards Sasuke, “whatever it is you’re doing right now?”

Sasuke makes a noise that seems to be a cross between exasperation and defeat before facing Naruto once more and just… staring at him. Seriously, Sasuke needs to stop doing that. It’s getting unnerving at this point.

Naruto tilts his chin up in defiance, refusing to back down.

“What do you want?”

Sasuke hesitates for only a second, “You.”

“…”

“…”

“…Y-you can’t just -! You can’t just say things like that after not seeing someone for over ten years -!” Naruto sputters indignantly.

“Naruto, I… I screwed up. And I missed you.” Sasuke breaks eye contact, making to start pacing again before seeming to stop himself and opting to look towards the ground instead.

“No. You can’t just… you can’t just say that after ten years of no contact. You cut off ties with me, remember?” Naruto does his best to glare at Sasuke, but he couldn’t keep it for too long. He’s angry; pissed beyond words, but he’s finally getting what he needed. Maybe this will finally be the closure that he needs to move on.

“I… things got complicated on my end. If… if you give me the chance, I can explain everything to you.” Sasuke tugs at his hair. “I know that it’s my fault. I’m not stupid, and this?” He gestures in the space between them. “This is something that I haven’t forgotten; couldn’t forget.”

“Sasuke,” Naruto tries again, desperation colouring his voice. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want for you to give us a chance again. Another shot at what we once had. I know that it won’t be the same anymore, but, god, Naruto. I want you back so much that it hurts.”

Naruto turns away. He couldn’t… he couldn’t bear to see that look in Sasuke’s eyes. It’s a look that he knows all too well from staring at the mirror. But could it possibly be that easy to rekindle whatever it was that they had? That they might still have?

“Naruto, I…,” Sasuke hesitates. “I’m staying at the Hilton Hotel downtown. If… if you want to, uh, to talk.” Sasuke stays for a second longer before turning on his heel and working back towards the front.

Naruto didn’t move for what felt like the longest time. He feels cold and numb. Sasuke just… he just up and offered him everything he ever wanted and he couldn’t just accept him back in his life. He doesn’t know what the matter is with him but… Naruto sighs. He just needs more time.

~~oOo~~

June, 2007

“Sasuke, can we talk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Naruto shuffles closer to Sasuke, his pulse skyrocketing to dangerous levels. He can do this. He can definitely do this.

“What did you want to talk about?” Sasuke asks, tugging Naruto to sit beside him and wrapping his arms around him.

“Um,” Naruto gulps. No, Naruto, focus. You got this. “I just, I just want to say that I really like you. Like, really, really like you.”

“Mhm, go on.”

Naruto sputters, moving to get up from the couch. Sasuke only tightens his hold even more, making Naruto sag in defeat, snuggling closer to Sasuke and unconsciously seeking Sasuke’s warmth.

“Don’t be a bastard, bastard.”

Sasuke laughs, low and comforting. “I love you, too, Naruto.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, bastard.” Naruto smiles. “And I want to spend more time with you.”

“Aren’t we spending a lot of time already?” Sasuke asks gently, softly.

“I know that, but I meant… I want to spend more of my years with you, as your boyfriend.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’d – I’d like that too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

~~oOo~~

November, 2017

Knock. Knock.

“Naruto…,” Sasuke says, his face showing something akin to tentative hope.

“Hey, Sasuke. Can we talk?”

[alia15]

2020: Who Saw THIS Coming?

Remember when I retired from blogging?

I actually did retire, except, I consider this little corner of the Internet -- MY corner -- to be a place where I document the big stuff. I told you about my engagement and then came back several months later to recap my wedding. Remember that? The wedding that THANKFULLY occurred in late 2019 before the world turned to shit??

Yeah. You know what happened. “The pandemic.” “The virus.” “Covid.” Covid-19″ (I personally prefer the first five Covids; I feel like they really fell off after that). “CORONAVIRUS.” 

THE DUMPSTER FIRE THAT IS...2020.

Suuuuuuuuure, good ol’ Rona robbed Leo and me of our Italian honeymoon, but aside from that? We were able to squeeze in all kinds of fun things in good ol 2019 -- oh how I miss you, 2019 -- and have an unforgettable year. This year is proving to be unforgettable too -- just, ya know -- in like, a traumatizing sorta way.

Anyway, as I was saying, I have to document the big stuff on here. I imagine myself reading and looking back on this blog like an old, embarrassing diary (hell, I do it already) (the dating posts make me want to die) and who can omit THIS chapter? It’s got it all: a deadly virus, racially fueled riots and protesting, social injustice, a deranged madman in the oval office, and... MURDER HORNETS?

exactly. 

So rather than write out a whole long thing about my experience in 2020, I thought I’d break it down by month, starting in March. I’m going to be documenting the good, the BAD (there’s a decent amount of that), and anything new that transpired in that time frame. Did I take up any hobbies? Start baking sourdough? I guess you’ll find out. 

Let’s start with: 

MARCH. 

The good. There was immediately a novelty to this whole Covid-19 thing. In the first half of the month I was commuting, going to work in my NYC office, and doing my usual amount of social things on weekends. When it was decided in mid-March that we’d have to work and stay home for a “bit” (lol), there was something exciting about it. We made jokes about social distancing and masks and had cutesy puns for “quarantining.” We hit the ground RUNNING with Zoom calls/video chats. There was something fun and exhilarating about all this.

The bad. People I KNOW got this virus. People I know LOST people to this virus. My Grandma’s health took a turn and things did not look good, but I couldn’t go see her. Shit, I didn’t see ANYONE except Leo, and even he was going to work in his office every day. I had to get used to this abrupt abundance of...alone time. 

What’s new? I’ve always taken to social media as a creative outlet, but I QUICKLY started using it more -- and differently -- once things in the world got hairy. I treated my Instagram like my one gateway to the outside world, because it was: I surveyed my followers and asked how they were doing. I took silly videos talking to myself in the mirror. I wrote long captions on my photos letting everyone know what my experience was like. I tried to entertain those who were stuck at home, as I was, and needing an escape. 

Oh, and ya know... Tiger King.

APRIL.

The good. The weather was getting nicer, so Leo and I took advantage and often went for walks around our complex and even a local trail/preserve in our town. We started doing “lawn visits” to see our families from a distance, and that helped. For two people who were used to seeing their ‘people’ regularly, 3-4 weeks of not seeing them took a toll. I also started doing “Grateful April” on Instagram, where I shared a few things each day that made me happy/appreciative. Some followers of mine followed suit, which was awesome to see. 

The bad. Hmm, I think all this sitting and lack of moving is hurting my back? (#foreshadowing). Also, ENOUGH with the Zoom calls and “virtual happy hours,” for the LOVE OF GOD! Oh, and that “novelty” I mentioned in March? That wore off quickly, and a lot of us started to feel weird, sad, isolated, uneasy, unproductive and stir-crazy. Myself included.

We were also reminded that this was the month we were supposed to depart for our honeymoon. Ugh.

What’s New? I did some arts & crafts (I painted ceramic bowls I bought from Target), gave myself a mediocre pedicure, found new/creative ways to engage and interact with folks on social media (polls, asking questions like “what’s in your Amazon cart?” and “who sponsors your quarantine?”), and got to see what it was like to have a husband with hair. I also discovered my love of tie-dye and wore...a lot of it. 

Oh, and I was on CBS news talking about screen time. Iconic. 

MAY.

The good. The weather got summer-like and I definitely felt a MAJOR shift in my mood. Leo and I spent more time outside on our deck: listening to music, making margaritas, talking to neighbors. I even took work calls outside and got some much-needed Vitamin D. I had my first real “beach days” (bathing suit, chair and all). I started to FINALLY see my family in person; first, outside only -- and then eventually indoors.  

The bad. Ahmaud Arbery. George Floyd, obviously. Dumb-dumbs protesting the lock-down and demanding haircuts. CLEARLY more to come on this. (See: June)

Oh, and my back pain? WAY worse.

What’s new? Some more arts and crafts: I started painting shells I found on the beach (lol).  I bought a pair of Crocs and documented the most absurd series on social media where I paired the heinous footwear with items that rhymed (Crocs & socks, Crocs & shamrocks, Crocs & botox...you get the idea.) I experimented with a few new recipes (made lemon poppy muffins & homemade vodka sauce). I re-watched Mad Men and it made me miss my office and coworkers. 

JUNE. A rough one. 

The good. We started doing more social things with our families: BBQs, celebrating Father’s Day, our nephew’s baptism. Doing this truly felt like “normalcy” and in those moments, we’d forget about all the garbage going on around us. I also decided (yes, after 3 friggin months of lock-down) that I needed to start exercising; something I needed for my physical AND mental health. I thought it could help my back -- which, yes, was feeling worse as time went on -- and it did make me feel good to spend a little time each day walking, jogging, lifting weights and just MOVING. 

The bad. Um? Everything? For starters, the racial tension in the country came to a head and erupted in a MAJOR way -- and while the protests and all the #BlackLivesMatter movements were a positive thing, it absolutely brought out the WORST in so many others. There was rioting, looting and violence. Racism ran RAMPANT. Karens went wild. “Covidiots” were ENRAGED about being told to wear masks. There was police brutality and a President who threw fuel into the fire. Tensions and emotions were at an all-time high and we all got a harsh dose of reality that this country has SO FAR TO GO in regards to equality and civil rights and even basic human decency. I was -- and still am -- sad for this country.

Also? I finally went for an MRI on my back and found out I have two herniated discs; well THAT certainly helps explain things! Shortly after, I pull my back out entirely, and could not walk or move. The pain is excruciating; debilitating and I think, “can things get any worse?” and then...

My Grandma passes away. 

It hurts. It still does. It was inevitable -- as death is, especially given her age and health condition at the time -- but it still felt like taking a bullet. I will always be grateful that I was able to get to see her one day before she passed away to say goodbye, but it’s hard not to be resentful that she didn’t get the memorial service and send-off she so deserved because of the pandemic.

(Side note: read about my amazing Grandma HERE)

In short, June sucked.

What’s new? We got a new stationary bike and set it up outside on the deck which was awesome, and I ended the month getting some epidural shots at the spine doctor. While the (strong) meds and injections didn’t exactly *cure* my issue, they made things a LOT better. Leo and I also drove into NYC (my first time there in MONTHS!) so I could go get my migraine Botox treatment at my neurologist. 

I voted by mail (which is not fraudulent, by the way) (#eyeroll) in the NY Primary. 

I also got not one, but TWO, amazing rainbows the week my grandmother passed away. I needed those, and I’d like to think she knew that.

JULY.

The good. More beach days and some consistent amazing weather (thanks, Mother Nature!). I started seeing a chiropractor twice a week and quickly respond REALLY WELL to treatment and start feeling a lot better. I put things into perspective and realize how lucky I am to live where I do -- on the beach -- and get to enjoy all this newfound free time doing things I enjoy. We also celebrate some family birthdays and have a small family gathering in honor of our beloved Dorothy. 

Have you noticed that “seeing family” always ends up in my “good” section?

The bad. Naya Rivera died unexpectedly, John Lewis died, REGIS died. Our President remains as unhinged as ever, we desperately want to #FreeBritney, and Kanye West has a really sad, scary and concerning, uh, episode. He’s also running for President, maybe? Or not? On a personal note, Leo and I tried to eat dinner on the beach one night and LIT-rally got attacked by seagulls. Weeks later, bull sharks are spotted in the ocean RIGHT WHERE WE LIVE, and they prohibit swimming. 

What’s new? Hamilton on Disney+: need I say more? The fig tree that’s been on our deck for three summers FINALLY started to grow figs! I re-watched Broad City and it is just... *chef’s kiss* perfection. Taylor Swift releases her album ‘folklore’ and I listen on repeat for seven days straight.

AUGUST.

Well, who knows? We’re not there yet. 2020 has certainly been a ride (and it’s not over yet; dear GOD), and I still can’t believe it ended up being this insane year, unlike anything I’ve EVER experienced. And while it undoubtedly has come with its fair share of challenges, it has also come with some blessings.

I have all this extra time now and I make a point to use it productively (most days). I log off from working and go outside, I walk the beach, go in our complex pool, ride the stationary bike, catch up with friends/family on the phone, read, and watch/re-watch shows.

The commute and hustle and bustle of every day in my pre-pandemic life would make me stressed and anxious; I was constantly snoozing alarm clocks, rushing in the mornings, dealing with overcrowded/delayed trains, and getting home late each night. 

Life has become slower, in a good way, and it’s made me appreciate the simple things. I care less about material things and more about the basics: enjoying nice weather/the outdoors, my home, my husband, my family and close friends.

I genuinely stopped caring about getting my hair and nails done, going out to dinner, getting dolled up, or traveling. Don’t get me wrong: I enjoy all these things and I’ll of course do them again, but this whole situation made me realize that what I need *most* in this world are the simple joys that money can’t buy.

And for that? I’m grateful. 

*stay safe, friends.*

[taonsil]

end of year fic summary \o/

this is copied over from dw so isn’t a tagging thing, but please do take it if you want~ it was in shareable format originally.

dhjfd I set my w/c goal at half of what my actual output was last year because I hoped to do more art, I didn’t realise it was gonna be because of the block from hell. but! the last minute burst of enthusiasm at the end of the year got me there, just makes for a pretty repetitive summary orz

january: - february: autochoris yeol, chansoo drabble march: april: may: june: round trip july: watch the time cause no one's watchin' august: september: october: suyeol drabble november: sparkle dust, unbeleafable december: useless husbands wip!

total number of fics (edited and reuploaded drabbles included): 7

total word count: 61k

favorite: gonna have a lot of same-y answers this year as there's less to pick from OTL but favourite, definitely unbeleafable. I really had a love-hate relationship with creating it, but I'm so pleased with the final result. It's a 'verse I'd happily have continued writing if there hadn't been a deadline

the best: unbeleafable. maybe it was due to lack of practice or coming out the other side of a massive writers block, but my style changed a little and I think it really benefited this fic! but also it was my first real attempt at writing explicitly nd characters and a plot that revolved around those themes. I'm the first to hold my hands up to my first attempts at other subjects having been clumsy, so I feel like I spent months just tweaking and editing it;; I really bonded with the characters in this (and the sideplots/supporting characters) n, yeah, it's just something I'm really proud of

most underappreciated by the universe: round trip! it's probably the only true gen fic I've ever written, and pokemon au. I found it very fun and cutesy to work on and (again, probably bc of the block that was getting me down most of the year) I was pretty happy with how the details worked into it. it's not super interesting, but I did hope it would be enjoyed ;u;

most fun to write: sparkle dust and unbeleafable. sparkle dust was ripped from a draft I created around march, and it was awful. it was when I could barely string a sentence together. it got real fun rewriting it once I felt back on my feet and feeling more confident of the direction it was going in, and that it's on a subject I enjoy, as well as knowing it was a gift for cat :'D unbeleafable was much the same - I started it in may, dusted it off in october and basically rewrote the entire thing at a personal best speed once I felt connected to it and comfortable with how the writing was going (and I enjoyed adding in little details so much, I was honestly laughing like a loser at some scenes while I was working on them). also the gross husbands wip I’m working on rn, it’s 6k in and I’m enjoying it a lotttt

sexiest: I mean..it's sparkle dust bc its the only one with actual sex in lol (if it could go to a character it would be tao in watch the time though, before he knows that yeol isn't up for anything his dialogue and actions are pretty sexual). and the wip but I can’t really talk about it cause it’s not up yet D:

“holy crap that’s wrong even for you”: everything was just standard Me this year imo.. it's not /wrong/ in any way, but writing an explicitly autochoris fic was pushing my own boundaries wrt comfort writing a subject. I mean I guess a sloppy blowjob wasn’t very Me but

fic that shifted my own perception of the characters: unbeleafable and watch the time. watch the time because that was also lifted from an old (2015) work, and writing the 'verse in more detail changed the character's attitudes. it's the first time I've written a tao who is so charming, mature and relationship driven, while cy is softer and more anxious (where as previously he was usually my filler character when I needed someone loud). and unbeleafable was just uh..honestly jm's depression was an afterthought. it wasn't in the original outline (which in fairness was only aiming for a 4k meet-cute, not the extensive slow burn it turned into). that his depression started to become detailed and was then a major plot point basically developed as I wrote, and I was backtracking to adjust earlier details to fit it. that jm really defined himself and I had to catch up;;

hardest to do: watch the time, god. I think I spent four months on it. I can't even words how terrible my block was this year, it really got me down. even when I was writing stuff that I can look back at now and see was ok, it was like I couldn't even tell if what I was reading made sense. it's the slowest I've ever worked on something and it was a really painful process, but I loved the idea of it so it felt like something good to work on when I was in a bad spot. (unbeleafable caught some of that too - I was poking around the same 5k of it for several months and considered dumping it so many times orz)

biggest disappointment: sparkle dust..a bit..bc I'm still terrible at smut lmao even with the context of the scene I just feel I could have done it better

most telling: I mean, everything. watch the time is chantao, ace themes, gender themes, (there's even a mention of tao's tattoo) it's a very very Me fic. a few people guessed unbeleafable was me. in a different sense that was telling, because I wanted yeol to be so loveable and worked hard to portray issues that matter to me in good lights

a thing I’m surprised at: that my w/c is as high as it is all considered djhf but no like, really the biggest surprise I've ever had in all my time writing fic was how positive the response to unbeleafable was. I was so genuinely shocked, I was even saving screenshots of some of the comments in case they were deleted or something. I still am surprised tbh.

what pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you never would have predicted in January? chantao and chansoo were probably the only thing I did expect tbh. pokemon au, subaek smut, suyeol..none of that was exactly what I anticipated, considering last year and previous was mostly focal around suchen and sutaohun

story with single sweetest moment? hnnn the lil chansoo drabble about yeol cutting his hair is overall entirely affection based. and there's two scenes in unbeleafable - when cy hugs jm after their sort-of-date and jm buries into it, and when cy offers jm his sleeve to hold while they're talking. (djhfd also this marrieds wip. they’re Very married, there’s a lot of gross husband-ing)

the story that made you cry: unbeleafable 🌿 the entire theme of it is personal to me, both yeol's autism and jm's depression. at times I was letting it write itself, and I got quite upset when they reached the point of being unsure if their communication issue would resolve. it was hard writing those scenes, because I absolutely couldn't change yeol's character to make it easier, but at the same time I really felt for how desperate and hurt jm was. (also in a nice-cry kinda way when they resolved things I was just, YES ; A;) (hmm also watch the time a lil bit when they had the confrontation and yeol was sure they’d have to break up)

easiest story to write: round trip was kind of a breakthrough wrt the block, after a lot of struggling it came pretty easy and got done in a day or two~

most overdue story: watch the time. I've wanted to write about sex repulsion for a long time but always skirted around it. also literally, seeing as it took me months longer to complete than intended :'D

did you take any writing risks this year? what did you learn from them? mmm kind of, in the subjects I chose. writing about an autochoris experience and writing a repulsed ace wasn't uncharacteristic for me but my confidence was very low at the time and I felt very uncomfortable about it. and unbeleafable honestly terrified me, I felt so vulnerable waiting for that to post and probably wouldn't have done it if it weren't for the fact it was anon initially. for me it felt like a big risk posting something that I felt could get a bad reception to an fest. I nearly contacted the mods at one point to ask them if it was even a good idea orz (also I feel my style just..changed somewhere, idk, but I decided to go with it instead of trying to change it back. its going ok ??)

in regards to writing, what did you learn this year: dghfd that blocks do end and that forcing yourself to produce has varied success. most importantly, I learned that sometimes bad things /dont/ happen :P

do you have any fanfic goals for the new year? I'm gradually working through my list! from last year I've achieved 4k+ averages for smaller fics and also writing 15k+ longer ones. and even managed something rated :P hmm idk though. I've always said 'more plot and a chaptered fic', but I wonder if I even want to do that anymore? it was more just something to tick off than a personal goal. I kinda would still like to write something plot driven but I'm accepting that my niche is what it is and it's probably what I'm best at/won't get bored doing. it feels like it's taken me until now to really decide and gain the confidence to write about the kind of people I want. so a very gentle goal for the new year would just be regaining my confidence, getting around to making that inspiration/techniques page I've always meant to have, continuing to polish up my style, and enjoying! writing!! again so I can get back to having fun !! upping suyeol’s page count also sweats