#...you somehow have forever lost fundamental pieces of Who You Are and you could never come back from that...

[uncanny-tranny]

I love you smile lines and worry lines and grey and white hair and wrinkles and purple spiderweb veins and the process of aging and living in a body that is standing the test of times. I love you experiences that make you wiser and stories that make you laugh, and every little process that happens to get to the point where you have so many memories because you have the fortune to be here and be so radiant

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[taggingtim]

Why I love Pre-Boot Tim Drake and why the Reboot has ruined him

I love Tim Drake.  He is my favorite comic book character of all time.  I’ve been really upset the past few days about what DC has been doing with him lately, and I thought it would be cathartic for me to write something up about it.  (No, this isn’t a rant about Tim being bi/gay; it’s a much larger problem than that. But I’ll get to that in a bit.) Bear with me for a bit of history, first.

When I was a kid I loved the Batman Animated Series.  I know this will lose me a lot of internet cred, but I always preferred the fourth season. In particular, I loved Tim Drake. He was fun and funny and I absolutely adored him.  I used to beg my mom to take me to the mall so I could buy issues of Gotham Adventures. For my birthday one year my parents got me a subscription to the comic, and I was blown away by the idea that I could have comics MAILED to my HOUSE.

Around middle school I started collecting Marvel comics, mostly X-men stuff.  I loved them, but when I started college I quit the hobby for financial reasons.

 Fast forward a few years, and I felt I was financially stable enough to start buying comics again. Rather than going back to Marvel, I decided to give Batman comics a chance.  I had no idea where to start, and when I found out my beloved Tim had his own comic series, I thought it was a perfect entry point into the Batman universe. I bought the complete series from a local comic shop and dove in.

 Tim’s Robin series was exactly what I was looking for in a comic.  He was very different from little Timmy Todd from BtAS, but I loved him. I built the rest of my comic collection around him, grabbing up every book that he was featured in, from Young Justice to Teen Titans to Batman, Detective Comics, Nightwing, Red Robin, and many others.  I have random books from series like The Demon just because Tim was in them.

 So why did I like Tim so much?  What about this character made me so excited for more?  I found in Tim something that I had never seen in a comic book before: character growth.  Somehow, though he was written by many different authors over many different years, Tim managed to have a character arc that is consistent and makes sense. Sure, there were a few small bumps along the way, but on the whole Tim has always stayed true to his character, and he’s developed in a way that the big name characters, like Batman, never can.

 When we’re first introduced to Tim, he’s a young teen who has been neglected by his parents growing up. He’s smart, healthy, and strong, but he lacks so much self confidence and has little sense of self worth.  Tim notices Bruce’s increasing violence as he grieves for the loss of his son, and Tim knows he needs to step in and help.  Batman needs a Robin.

 For most characters, this would be the part where Tim put himself forward for the job.  But he doesn’t.  He seeks out Dick Grayson and begs him to come home instead.  It’s only when Batman and Nightwing are in danger and there is literally no one else to help that Tim steps up and dons the cape. And once he does, he’s constantly plagued by self-doubt, terrified he will screw up and leave Batman worse than ever before.

 From there, Tim undergoes intense training.  He never begs to be in the spotlight, doesn’t push to go out on the streets before he’s ready.  His goal is to help Bruce as much as possible.

 Here’s where I started to fall in love with him.  All that self-doubt, the constant need to be useful?  That’s exactly what you would expect to see from a child whose parents had ignored and neglected him.  He finally has a parental figure who sees him, who values him, and Tim does everything he can to make himself worthy in the hopes that Bruce will keep him around.

 This is the first example of character consistency that we see with Tim.  And it continues.  When his mom dies and his dad is put in a coma, you see Tim struggle to come to terms with losing the people he loves, but never had a relationship with.  Tim almost never mentions his mom after her death, because she just wasn’t present in his life.  When his dad recovers and decides to stick around, Tim struggles to build a relationship with him.  He’s plagued with guilt because he’s finally found the father figure he needed in Bruce, but he thinks that he’s supposed to feel that way for Jack.  It’s a running undercurrent in their relationship that creates distance between them for years.

 This is already so long, so I’m going to try to summarize a bit more.  We get to watch Tim grow up.  We see his awkward relationship with his first girlfriend, Ariana.  He doesn’t know how to treat her; he’s never had the opportunity to observe a healthy relationship.  But he tries so, so hard.  All of Tim’s relationships are awkward, because he’s never had a model of a good one. Steph is a great match for him, because she’s very vocal about what she wants and needs, and she isn’t afraid to call Tim out when he messes up, which is exactly what Tim needs.

 Big things happen to Tim. He’s stuck with Jean-Paul Valley, who slowly goes insane, leaving Tim to try to keep the city in one piece.  He’s infected with the Clench, a plague that sweeps over Gotham and kills everyone it touches, and barely escapes with his life. His girlfriend is sexually assaulted, leaving him to deal with the fallout.  His family moves out of Gotham, and he has to sneak back in during No Man’s Land to help.  His relationship with his dad has intense ups and downs, resulting in him being sent to boarding school, punished in a variety of ways, and generally caused a lot of trouble in his life.

 Then people start dying. Over the course of about a year in his life, Tim loses his girlfriend, his dad, a close friend, and his best friend, each of whom dies under tragic conditions.  Tim’s grief is intense, and he is understandably traumatized by the losses. We see fundamental changes in his character.  He changes his costume from something bright and cheerful to something darker that reflects his emotional state.  He’s more subdued, his adventures a little more serious.

 When Bruce first tries to adopt him, Tim literally creates an uncle and hires an actor to play him, just to avoid dealing with the situation.  Bruce has viewed Tim as a son for years, so to him the adoption is an obvious step.  For Tim, it feels like a betrayal of his father, and it takes a while before he’s ready to accept Bruce’s love, home, and a place in his family.  

 When Damian shows up on the scene, Tim really struggles with him, and not just because early Damian is a horrid brat who tries to kill Tim on multiple occasions.  Tim has always felt the need to earn his place with Bruce, and Damian constantly throws all of Tim’s biggest fears in his face—he’s not wanted or needed now that the “real” son is here, he’s not worthy of a place in the family, he’s not good enough.

 Tim tries to clone Conner, his best friend.  He’s lost so many people, and he’s desperate to get them back.  Conner was cloned to begin with and fully matured over a very short period of time; the technology clearly exists, so why can’t Tim use it to get his best friend back?  And if he can get Conner back, why not the others he’s lost?  He eventually gives up, but when he eventually gets access to a Lazarus Pit, he immediately wants to incorporate the waters into his process so he can revive his loved ones.  With Dick’s help, Tim eventually decides to let it go, but it’s such a poignant moment for the character.

 Then Bruce dies, and Dick takes Robin away.  Tim switches to the Red Robin persona as he travels the world, alone, trying to prove that he was right.  He has to deal with the trauma of losing another father, finds out that his girlfriend never died but let him hurt so much for so long.  His brother and the only close friend he has left both think his grief has overwhelmed his sense and that he’s gone crazy.  He’s utterly alone.

 The Red Robin series is such a great culmination for Tim.  He finds a place for himself as a hero, as a CEO.  He gets parts of his family back—Bruce, Steph, Bart, Conner.  He finally figures out who he wants to be and creates a place for himself.

 This overarching character development is what I love about Tim.  His many, many traumas impact his decisions, and you can clearly see how he changes over time as a result of them.  I didn’t even go into his development as a leader from his early fumbling with Young Justice to his strong leadership of the Teen Titans, or how his relationships with Conner, Bart, and Cassie develop so fluidly and realistically over the years.

 This is why I love Tim. Characters like Batman are static; nothing that happens to them will ever have a lasting impact, because in the end the character always returns to what they were.  Tim, on the other hand, has changed and developed A LOT since his initial appearance.  His growth has always been consistent and logical.

 When the reboot happened, all of that character growth was lost.  Tim was replaced with a jerk who betrayed his friends and cheated on his girlfriend.  DC has basically retconned all of this and tried to turn Tim back into who he was, but by taking away all of the things that have happened to him over the years, Tim has lost SO MUCH.

 I keep looking for my Tim in recent comics, and I just can’t find him.  It breaks my heart, because I love him so much, and it feels like he’s lost to me forever.  The most recent Young Justice comic series actually gave me hope; I felt like maybe, finally, someone was going to write Tim correctly.  He had his primary friendships back, his relationship with Steph was developing (even if they seem to have completely dropped all the development around Steph’s decision to let Tim think she was dead).  The actual book itself wasn’t fantastic, but it felt like they were headed in the right direction.

 Over the last few days, I read the Batman: Urban Legends books.  I actually read the Batman/Red Hood story first, which was fantastic.  I was really excited to read Tim’s story (though I already knew how it ended).  Jason’s character was handled so well, and he seemed to actually have some character development that will hopefully last.  I anticipated the same for Tim.

 But Tim’s story was awful. The plot was all over the place—kids are being kidnapped, so Tim has to join a pain cult to get them back?  He’s somehow helping Oracle with computer issues while simultaneously questioning witnesses?  He’s broken up with Steph, off camera, shortly after telling her how much he loves her, but Steph somehow thinks that they should have a caring relationship where Tim tells her what he’s feeling?  Bernard has somehow become a good enough fighter to stand side by side with Robin?  Tim STILL doesn’t have a code name?  Why is everyone suddenly hounding him about what he wants to do with his life?

 It’s just such a mess of a story.  If it didn’t end with Tim agreeing to go on a date with Bernard, no one would ever have even mentioned it.  There’s nothing particularly re-readable or enjoyable about it.

 I actually liked that they brought Bernard back. I really enjoyed him in the original Robin series. It’s been a while since I read that part of the series (I’m actually working my way back through it now).  I know Bernard always read as gay to me, yet somehow I felt like he was out of character in these books.

 And then, the climax of the story.  Tim is bi, or gay, or has at least agreed to go on a date with a boy.

 If this had happened in the pre-boot, when Tim was Red Robin and had an actual character arc, I honestly wouldn’t have had an issue with it.  I do think it would have needed a LOT more build up than it was given here.  Tim has always been a very introspective character, and we’ve been party to so much of his internal monologue over the years.  It seems very strange to me that such a huge thing just sneaks up on him out of nowhere when he’s never even thought about it before.

 But more than that, this story just feels like the final death blow for the Tim I loved.  The whole arc is about how Tim doesn’t know who he is or who he wants to be.  What will his hero name be?  Will he go to college?  What is he going to do with his life?  These are all great questions, and his answer to all of them is… date a boy?  

 Is this going to be his defining characteristic going forward?  From here will we just see Tim exploring and discovering his sexuality?  The Tim we have now doesn’t have a family, a team, a purpose, or even a code name.  Why was this the thing that DC decided to give us?  It feels like they wanted to make a gay Robin and decided it would be Tim because they didn’t know what else to do with him.

 It’s stupid, but I honestly feel like I’ve spent the past few days grieving the loss of a loved one. The Tim that DC is presenting now is just not the person that I knew.  Tim would never break up with Steph that abruptly for what he admits is no apparent reason.  He would never say “just call me Robin, since Damian’s out of town.”  Everything that I love about Tim seems to be gone, and in its place DC has given me a date with a boy.  

 Again, it’s not Tim being not-straight that I have an issue with.  I’ve never read the character that way, but it’s something I can live with. My issue is the way it was handled. Why not make Tim an actual person first, and then explore his sexuality?  Send him off to college!  He’s obviously thinking about it!  It’s the perfect opportunity to give him his own book.  He can move to a different city, choose a new name, and DC can introduce a whole new set of characters.  Figure out which parts of Tim’s backstory are still canon, and which have been dropped. Make him a person again, and then let him explore his sexuality.

 I know this post is all over the place, and I don’t have time right now to go back and edit it.  I just really needed an outlet for my frustration.  Right now it feels like there are so many people who are so excited about Tim being bi/gay, but they don’t know anything else about him.  I keep seeing people comment how DC has been “dropping hints for years!” with no evidence other than “he and Superboy were really close!”  I guess I’d just really like to have some dialogue with other people who are fans of Tim, rather than fans of Tim-as-bi/gay or fans of Tim-as-straight.

 Does anyone else feel this way?  I’d honestly like to have a dialogue about it with other long time fans.

[dwlrmoon]

Astrological Analysis: I.M "Duality"

An astrological analysis of I.M's solo album "Duality" & how his astrological placements manifest through the songs. Changkyun said that he poured his entire soul into this album, so I thought it'll be really cool to dissect the songs in the astrological lens because I'm in love with his artistry.

REMINDER

Observed & analyzed through western tropical astrology; we are missing information due to lack of confirmed birth time, so I can only deliver using the traditional 7 planets (mainly the personal chart) without a house system.

DUALITY

Having the album entitled "Duality" with songs expressing this topic (esp. the title track) reminds me of his Aquarius placements, mainly the Sun. I.M has his Sun in detriment, meaning that his Sun is "weak" or uncomfortable in that sign. As the sister sign of Leo, Aquarius symbolizes celebrities, fame, the star in tarot, as well as hopes & dreams. Aquarius can represent notoriety & infamy while simultaneously having the stereotype of the loner or outsider, not wanting to be perceived or "understood."

Using traditional rulership, Aquarius is ruled by Saturn who also rules Capricorn. If Capricorn rules authorities & conformities, Aquarius is the rebellious younger sibling refusing to conform & rather revolt, deviating from the norm. I.M placed his artistry in precedence; convincing SSE to use God Damn as the title track despite the profanity requiring him to release this album digitally in addition to him creating the tracks in his own style that may or may not be in line with k-pop or Monsta X.

GOD DAMN

In true I.M fashion the song & MV are very concupiscent, & since I already talked about the duality that is expressed through this song, let's talk about the MV specifically. Pisces rules escapism & addiction & his Pisces Venus was very on brand to go with alcohol as the imagery of getting high to hide from his frustrations. This piece is highly self-reflective & he encourages listeners to read between the lines, it's quite Saturnian in nature. I also love how the lyrics have that duality of hating & loving whoever/whatever that is ruining/comforting him—I really associate this with his Martian Moon (him assigning Misbehave as the song that represents him is so... Aries Moon).

HOWLIN'

No more taming 'bout my color I swing 'till I get, what’s the problem? Problem I ain't follow simply what I see I go follow what I need 'Cause I see that I'm loyal Imma go on my speed, even I'm slow

The 1st verse reminds me a lot of his Saturnian + Martian energy��no more wanting to be someone he's not, doing his own thing without care of what others may think. However, the last 2 lines really highlight the fixed modality of his Aquarius: I love that he says he's loyal even if he goes on his speed which can be slow; he doesn't care as long as he gets there.

I don't celebrate 'till I make it till the end Ain't time for the 'hol up' You want me be a shade but I'm made for a big wave Ain't time for the 'hol up'

This song has a lot of Saturnian themes esp. the chorus. It reminds us that Saturn rules time—he doesn't succumb to the challenges & distractions or "hold ups," rather focusing on his goal & only celebrating once he reaches the mountaintop. Saturn is karmic, it takes its sweet time to give you your rewards that you must work laboriously for. He knows he's made for something bigger (Aquarius), & with his perseverance (fixed), determination & passion (Aquarius Mars + Aries Moon), he will be rewarded despite all the struggles (Saturn).

Don't call me, I'm drivin' I just wanna keep on ballin’ Even though when you are hatin’ Woah Grab me when I'm fallin’ 'Cause I make myself so lonely You know that I'm howlin'

However, Saturn can be extremely isolating & Aquarius is akin to the underdog. Of course we don't know where his placements are, but his Pisces Venus contributes to that isolation. He feels lonely & he knows that, but he inevitable makes himself lonely which Aquarius natives can do when they develop that mentality of me v.s. the world sometimes. Keep in mind that Aquarius rules community yet the outsider, showcasing that wanting to be alone while wanting someone to be there for him. Saturn is burden & he's a lone wolf used to being alone carrying all that burden himself.

BURN

The night has become cold and now it's a meaningless fight I don't wanna waste my time on the past time Endless shot, let me head to the top I don't wanna waste my time on the past time Burn the accumulated emotions, burn Burn everything without leaving anything, burn

An Aries Moon anthem? I find that Aries placements love having fire/burning imagery if not in their songs then in their MVs. Aries is Martian, cardinal & fire by nature, which means that Aries Moons may get irritated fairly quickly—a quick temper? But they get over it super quickly, kind of like blowing off steam & then letting it go right after. The Moon rules our emotions, & I think the lyrics speak for itself here. The allusion to the fight is very Martian as well.

I'm mixed and complex, yeah I don't know myself well, eh Yesterday I couldn't empty it out, yeah I'd rather burn it, yeah The tears that fell are oil Make the flame burn higher Pour it out, no more regrets Burn it all up and high, yeah

I really enjoy I.M's introspective & intrapersonal nature; he always says he doesn't know himself well & accepts that rather than fighting it. He accepts all facets of himself, & that's very refreshing. The 2nd verse made me chuckle a little bit because the first 2 lines look Aquarius while the rest is Aries. Not to mention he has an Aquarius Mars conjunct Sun, so, more Martian energy there. Cardinal + Martian give me that attitude he portrays very well in this song—throw some more oil, let it burn more so that there'll be no regrets. Another Aries placement who wrote something like this? Yoongi.

HAPPY TO DIE

I could die right now, yeah I can never lie, yeah You bring me to sky Let me be yours till I die When you say goodbye, yeah Bury me on your heart, yeah Don't you say that word Could you keep it till I die? You brought me back to the real love I wanna get lost here forever

There is so much to unpack in this little song... The chorus is a mixture of Saturnian commitment & Aries headstrong, passionate reckless energy motivated by his romanticist Pisces Venus. The title itself, the whole concept of this song, is fundamentally Pisces (his DSC would be really cool to talk about here, if we had the birth time, but we don't, so).

We're childish like we were when we used to play back then I let go of rationality as if I'm drawn by the wind I don't know what this feeling is Even if I try to pretend I don't know, everything seems to be obvious, yeah I don't know, I like it the way it is I don't know me well, I don't know I guess it's not a lie that I really like you I'm happy to die right now

Verse 1 truly has my heart in a grip. He has a rational & intellectually-minded Saturnian Mercury & Sun, yet once he's in love he gets enamoured & childish, rendered completely irrational. It's giving me Aries meets Pisces—of the moment, idealistic, just overwhelming emotions taking control of his Saturnian mind, which I find funny because he has Moon square Mercury.

Things of mine might go away and shape Will just change, but don't you change When I'm low, could you make me not alone? I could die right now if we were just this crazy about each other

Pisces is sentimental & can represent past lives, that feeling of being stuck in the past? Pisces Venus is visionary & idealistic, they're more in love with the idea of love than love itself sometimes. Here we see that theme of isolation again, his Aquarius could play a role here, but his Pisces placements are also desperate to be loved. The last line, like said before, is utterly Pisces because Romeo & Juliet is known to be a Pisces type of relationship, plus with that Aries Moon... it just makes sense since Aries Moons love the rush & passion.

시든 꽃 FLOWER-ED

Somehow I have no strength to resist I stay right where I am It's not like I'm longing for someone But I'm standing there

Personally loving how his songs gradually grow more & more Piscean? The overwhelming emotion of yearning with no one to long for is so Pisces/Jupiterian Venus in general. Like I said, they're idealistic & in love with the idea of love more than anything—not the happy kind of love either. I notice that Jupiterian Venuses play with the theme of wanting a lot, mainly because they are ruled by the planet of expansion. Distance is a huge theme in Jupiterian signs, & they idealize that.

When you step on me like it's nothing I desperately want you to come back and hug mе I deeply remember your smilе that laughed at me While I was being illuminated by you

Because Pisces placements love the idea of love & the feeling of longing for someone they can get into the habit of sacrificing themselves, hence their association with the hanged man in tarot. They are too focused on the fantasy of love to take off their rose tinted glasses.

I don't really blame you I know your days by my side Have faded away Please don't disappear, oh

The hand that held me, the eyes that captured me are all blind The scattered hands, the shining eyes are gone

I don't know what else to say here, like, I think you guys understand how these verses really depicts his Pisces Venus very well... With a Venus conjunct Saturn it can really emphasize isolation & rejection as well—this aspect feels like they are deprived of love, so they crave it desperately even if it hurts them which is a theme of Pisces. Him titling this track "withered flower" in Korean is so Pisces Venus of him overall.

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.5

If One Should Fall...

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader  Word count: 3120

Summary: In which distribution of forces on the stones-retrieving mission changes. Because— reasons.The reason being a special visit someone pays you.

Warnings!: skip to post-Infinity War and the summary of it - you can imagine; deaths, violence....briefly tho, + language, mention of the inability to bear children, brief suicidal thoughts, kinda religious motives because SPN

A/N: Enormous time skip, because obviously CA:CW didn’t happen and the timeline is changed from canon already. Also, the title (What I’d Never Say or Do had I been in my right mind) is reeeeeally applicable in this one and somehow… it felt right to connect the chapters like this. Do not murder me…?

Part 4

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Forever was a funny word. A funny concept, perhaps. People always said they wished for some moments to last forever and what they meant was for them to last as long as possible, with no change in sight. Or they said that something unpleasant felt like it lasted forever, their souls craving an end of the misery, a fundamental change as the polar opposite to the first case.

You lived through both in the past years.

Sitting on your ass in a Wakandian palace, watching a battle unfold in front of you, an ensemble of great warriors fighting yet another army from space, that felt like forever, a never-ending nightmare and you only got to watch.

It set a pattern for you for several more years to come. To only watch.

You watched an alien creature steal the sceptre that the Avengers had decided to store in the palace and it did so while killing everything in its way. Princess Shuri had the great idea of hiding you and cuffing you so you wouldn’t stand in the creature’s path while she tried to stop it with the others. She ended up in shattered glass, only unconscious, as if thanks to a miracle.

You watched as… as she fell apart to ashes only minutes later; just like many, oh so many others.

Half of the population, they said.

Thanos, The Mad Titan, had wiped half of all living creatures.

The moment was carved into your brain forever. And the eternal time you waited for anyone to come back from the battle, to see Steve alive, because God, please, let him live – yes, that sure as hell felt like forever too.

Lives were lost. Bucky, Sam, Ryan, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, Shuri, T’Challa, Strange, Fury… the list went on and on. All of them, gone. Forever.

The world changed. Avengers  ow officially didn’t exist and yet recruited new members all over the freakin’ space, which was the only way of finding out Tony Stark, who had disappeared on a spaceship, in fact, survived.

The missions of the greatest defenders of Earth changed as well. Some members took off to start a family, lucky enough to still have a partner to do so. Or to have the ability to pass their genes.

You couldn’t. Or maybe Steve couldn’t, it didn’t matter. You never pried after the source of your inability to have children; you two were one, a unity. You didn’t want to know so you could point fingers. You could tell Steve blamed himself, as well as he knew that your irregular period was definitely not helping. You made your peace. In fact, you admired Tony for finding the courage to create an environment for a child in this mad world; your lack of faith in being able to do the same had the opportunity rose ironically helped you to come to terms with the fact of your body was not functioning right.

In a way, it only drew you and Steve closer. You had valued each other before, yes, but now… you truly were like one. You backed him up in how he decided to honour Sam’s memory by starting a support group and he was the one to sense that in a search for reassurance, strangely materialistic, you craved an official bond with him, despite never saying a word.

You were Steve’s wife now – and you were each other’s rock, even during the poor attempt at defeating Thanos again.

Five years was a long time, a forever, one might say, but when Scott Lang, one of the people believed to been dusted, reappeared, forever and never became relative again.

Which led you to now; what was left of the Earth’s mightiest heroes was planning on retrieving the infinity stones.

Because they figured out how to time-travel.

Observing your reflection in the mirror, the circles under your eyes, you couldn’t but run your hand down your face and sigh.

You were still struggling with accepting the incredible fact of the possibility of coming back in time, yet you had to shush the hope inside you. Hope was a dangerous thing; certainly on such big scale as everything could being as it had been, hope that all the people who had lost their lives during the Snap could be resurrected.

As for a person who in fact had died once, it was easier for you to believe it was possible and you weren’t sure that it was a good thing. The fear of losing what you still had – read Steve, mainly – in the process, was paralyzing. It would mean your end, one you might deliver by yourself if it came to it, because you weren’t as strong as your husband. You wouldn’t make it through. Not after everything that happened.

You sighed again and tried to shake off the darkest thoughts.

When your eyes fell on the reflection again, a man stood behind your shoulder.

You spun on your heels and jerked away, your bottom bumping into the sink with a startled yelp escaping your lips.

In a fraction of second, several ways of defending yourself flashed through you mind; but the man was already three feet away; in a blink of an eye, before you could even move further.

Chest heaving with frantic breaths, hand over your heart, you stared at the intruder dressed in a three-piece suit and a red cravat. Of average height and maybe few pounds over healthy weight, smoothly shaven so his smirk could stand out, he looked… peculiar, especially given the fact he had found himself in the ladies’ room.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he spoke up with some kind of an accent on top of everything, but it did.

“Saving the world is exhausting, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, speechless. Your brain kicked into an overdrive, analysing how much of a threat he was, if he was like Pietro, too fast for Friday to catch him, or what was he-

“Who the-“

“I’m Crowley, darling. And you don’t need look so scared. If I wanted you dead, you’d be already lying here in a puddle of blood,” he reassured you like a sleazy businessman, all pretence at kindness.

You winced at the visual and narrowed your eyes.

“Alright, Crowley, what do you want? And what exactly are you?” you demanded, uncertain why you felt calm despite the man appearing out of thin air and speaking of you dying in the bloodiest way. Were you truly so numb these days?

He smiled, as if he was old friend. “I am a friend of Moose and Squirrel-“ What. “-or Sam and Dean, as you know them. I have no doubt they mentioned me. After all, my mother is assisting them more than she would like. You met her, incidentally.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out – you hadn’t met many people during your time with the Winchesters. This man… was probably a warlock. A witch. Rowena apparently had a son.

Well. Shit.

“Okay. So… you’re a witch or something. Means I shouldn’t trust you fully. Noted. Now what do you want?”

His face twisted in a theatrical insulted grimace, his palm laid on his chest as if you just shot him through the heart – which, by the way, would probably do nothing to him.

“First of all, I am here to help, so I don’t think you have other option than trusting me. Second of all, I am not a witch, I am the King of Hell, thank you very much-“

Somewhere in the back of your mind, Sam Winchester’s voice whispered something about the King of Hell having been Dean’s bestie for a while, which did not make you feel any better, only more confused.

“And thirdly… I’m here to tell you what you, my darling, need to do for this mission to be successful.”

You stared at him incredulously, his casual stance and animated speech bewildering, and had no clue what to make of it.

Yet, you let him speak. You let him give you the advice no one ever wanted to receive. Ever. But this sleazy man had told you about how he had saved the world before, side by side with the Winchesters and everything suddenly made sense.

Crowley, the King of Hell, answered the most burning question you had been asking yourself ever since coming back from the death, doing so more and more often these days.

Why.

Why were you given the second chance at life? Why you of all people? What was the purpose?

And now you knew.

Rowena was the greatest witch the supernatural world had ever created and she supposedly looked through all the possible futures she could. Tony had once told you, drunk and hurting, that Strange had done the same right before the battle and he only saw one way of how it could end with Thanos’ loss. Now Crowley told you the ‘one’ future was still in play, that everything was actually still on the way to the world’s victory.

The price of victory was high. History had taught you that.

But the price people paid for losing was higher.

And as much as you hated what you apparently had to do…

“Okay,” you rasped, guilt already gnawing at your chest, tears strolling down your face, fear eating you up from the inside, fear of unknown and yet known, instincts fighting the urge to do the right thing and finally actually help to the heroes you found yourself among while still useless.

You were only watching too long. Forever, one might say.

“Okay?” he echoed, clearly surprised by your antics.

You only nodded, wiping away your tears and forcing your breathing to calm and steady. There was no way you could go back to the base of operating in the living room like this. You needed to be a fucking grown-up. Grown-ups had to be okay with not being okay. You must finally become worthy of being Captain Amer- Steve’s wife.

“Yes, Crowley. I’ll do it. Though I still have no idea why you came here to tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you teased him lightly, your mouth speaking its will without permission, the question only half-expecting an answer.

“Well, my darling. It’s the end of the world as we know it. It doesn’t matter now if you’re good or bad. Not if you want the world not to end.”

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You were a terrible actress; a Razzies-nominee kind of actress. You couldn’t lie to save your life (the irony of such statement was not lost on you, yet it wasn’t properly appreciated either) and you were aware of the fact that Steve liked that about you. You could never lie to him. So you never tried.

You knew you couldn’t break that streak now, because he would see right through you. So you stooped lower than ever. Omitting the truth. Lying by not sharing the whole story. Whether you could make that work, only time would tell.

When you finally managed to compose yourself – at least more or less – and exited the bathroom, you found out that not much had changed. The team was still debating the details of best approach, uncertain but determined expressions on their faces.

Steve spared once glace at you and instantly was able to tell something was wrong. He hid you from the view of the others by his broad figure, concerned eyes scanning your face, observing and searching for any clue; for the source of your distress. As if the fact that they were – you all were, even if they didn’t know yet – about to time travel wasn’t enough to give one palpitations and serious stress-induced headache.

His tender fingers tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as if it would help the mess your hairstyle must have been. A small encouraging smile graced his lips despite his own mind no doubt weighted down by numerous worries.

He didn’t have to ask for you to start talking, the brilliant colour of his eyes sweet and inviting enough.

“What if something goes wrong?” you questioned in a hushed whisper, not having to pretend to have such haunting thought. “What if… I don’t even want to think about what could it be. You’re going to need someone capable to pull you out. I am… I am not that capable. Definitely not when it comes to science of time-travel.”

Despite Steve acting like a human shield, your concerns were acknowledged by everyone, their heads snapping your direction. Steve, feeling all the curious eyes, cleared his throat and gently took your arm, leading you away from the prying ears.

“….excuse us for a second,” he hummed absently, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak with you again. “Doll… what- what is this really about?”

“What do you mean-“ you bluffed lamely in an instant, but the look Steve gave you shut you up.

“I know you, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me.”

If you weren’t dreading what you were about to do, you might throw a ‘watch me’ back at him. Instead, you aimed for an irritated tone – one that would be justified in case he would truly be questioning the claim you were about to point out.

“So you think I’m not afraid for you?”

A frown crossed over his face, his palm on your bicep tightening before he eased his hold to brush his thumb over the very same spot. “No! That’s not- I just know there’s something more. What is it?”

Gulping and averting his gaze, because the intense burn of genuine concern was unbearable, your mind raced with the effort to find the right words.

Your stomach was tied in tight knots, turning at the idea of playing Steve, more so for such nefarious purpose. But how else you could have convinced him that it couldn’t in fact be him and Natasha going to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone?

“I… I want to help. I need to help, Steve. You’re— you're so strong, always the hero and I’m not even close, I-“

“-need to prove my worth?” he finished easily, a knowing look in his eyes, and fuck him, how did he know—

He might not understand fully, he had no way of knowing what Crowley told you to do, but still, Steve was still able to recognize what fuelled your determination, what were your motives.

You opened your mouth uselessly, a shaky exhale brushing Steve’s face as he lowered his head to you, his eyes wide and genuinely troubled. God, you couldn’t bare the intensity of his gaze.

“Christ, doll. Where’s this coming from? Don’t be rid-“ From the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips as he swiftly cut himself off before calling you ridiculous. His large warm palms framed your face, forcing you to lock your gaze with his, passionate words accented by the burning fire of his irises. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to them, certainly not to me. You are my everything and you are the most amazing person I have ever met-“

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your better judgement. You never doubted Steve’s feelings, yet he was always quick to reassure you, having the patience of a saint whenever he noticed a hint of insecurity.

“I know. I swear I know that, I know how you feel, but- let me do this. What if… what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t come back and I’d be just sitting here, knowing I could have done something, but I didn’t. You’re too familiar with that feeling, Steve. Please. Let me come with you,” you pleaded in a hushed voice, hating you reminded him of losing you, but knowing it might be effective. “You know you can protect me when it comes to it.”

Brows drawn together, Steve observed you, baffled and yet understanding at the same time, torn between the instinct to have you protected at the compound and the responsibility he felt towards this mission. This was the fight of your lives; deep down, he must have known he couldn’t afford to jeopardize that even if it came to you. Which, naturally, didn’t mean he had to like it.

A clearing of one’s throat that sounded a bit like a clap of thunder interrupted your staring contest and you both glanced towards Bruce’s huge green form in the doorway, sheepish expression comical on his massive face.

“…sorry to interrupt, but… we kinda all think she has a point so-“

Steve’s sucked in air between his teeth, letting his hands drop from you face, only for one of them to run through his hair, the other balling in a fist.

You shrugged, the battle of emotions – victory and defeat at the same time, because God, why – no doubt visible on your face as Steve turned his attention solely to you once more.

“I’ll give you guys another sec…” Bruce hummed, backing out of the door, leaving you to deal with clearly irritated and reluctant Steve.

Thanks, buddy.

Wordlessly, Steve’s fingers slipped beneath your jaw, pulling you in for one of the strangest kisses of your life. H poured all his emotions into one simple gesture, hungry and intense, intimate wet sound of a dirty encounter of mouths echoing in the otherwise silent room. You allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of Steve’s lips on yours, in his arm grabbing you and pressing flush against his hard chest; it was all too harsh for anyone to believe it was not a display of affection of a half-desperate man.

Breathless and with vertigo nearly overcoming you, you rested your forehead against Steve’s, mirroring his action once you parted. His eyes were closed shut, as if too heavy to kept open, but you could see that something in his expression shifted; you and Bruce won.

Peripherally, you noticed Crowley’s faint figure, the shortest of appearances as he nodded in approval and goodbye. You suspected he did something so Steve gave in; you didn’t care what and how, hoping it didn’t harm your soulmate.

Tears stung in your eyes when you realized what was to come and you forced them to be kept at bay, shutting your eyes close again.

“Fine, have it your way,” Steve rasped, his voice clearly irked, yet resigned. “But if you get one scratch on you, doll, just one, I’ll hold you responsible.”

No, you won’t.

You charmed a guilty smile, a lame tiny thing, and he inhaled sharply, only for huffing the air out.

“How could I, having my chivalrous man by my side?”

It earned you a kiss on your forehead, Steve’s fingers interlacing with yours when you made your way back to the other room where everyone waited.

Oh, how much it now hurt, the amount of faith Steve could put into you, charmed by your teary smile, that little thing puling on his heartstrings.

Oh, just how much it would hurt…

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Part 6

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This chapter might seem a bit strange, but hopefully it fits the atmosphere of Infinity War and Endgame…

Thanks for being here. I love you for your encouragement :-*

P.S. Here, have the last part of a SPN guide - visuals and references for Amara (God’s sister who gave back ‘reader’s’ memories) and Crowley (from this chapter).

[unaccomplishedwriter]

THE HERO YOU NEED

. Chapter Two .

- Chapter One here -

if there were ever anyone close to being the personification of perfection, it would be Cedric Diggory.

The older boy was a hit with the first-years, and everyone else actually. He was kind and informative, making sure the younger ones were made to feel welcome and comforted. You watched with interest as he animatedly explained how the Hogwarts staircases worked to the crowd of students behind him, fiddling with your wand as always. Following behind slowly, your mind began to wander as you blocked out the noises surrounding you.

Hufflepuff was a choice you’d made after careful deliberation; their house values most matched what you wanted yourself to achieve as a wizard. You were no stranger to the history of Beauvais wands; their propensity for dark magic contributed to much of the doubt surrounding Seraphina Picquery in her earlier days. But she made her place, as will you yours. Your dream was to become a living counter to dark magic; someone who could strengthen all aspects of magic through extensive study of its usages, dark magic included. Your wand was powerful, and held exactly the kind of power you needed if you were to be able to research your goals as extensively as possible. Magical application was one thing, but learning how magic affected the body as thoroughly as possible would prove to be an invaluable asset to the fundamental understanding of magical power to begin with. Hufflepuffs were similar to Pukwudgies in that sense; their members were often curious and good-natured, usually going on to have careers that were based in care.

After the incident as a child, you wanted nothing more but for others to never have to go through such a thing again, even if you had to study the usage of the very dark magic you were so afraid of.

A sudden emptiness beneath you snapped you out of your thoughts, your body suddenly being jerked back and into open arms.

“Are you okay?” 

Frantically panted the lips near your ear. Your heart was pounding, and all thoughts in your head flew out the window. What on earth happened? Why...

“You nearly got yourself killed! Were you listening at all?” that same voice scolded. You finally snapped out of your thoughts, turning your head only to meet with someone’s chest. Your nose met with a soft, warm and good heavens, he smells like caramel --  neck before trailing upwards, coming face to face with one very flustered Cedric Diggory. Desperately piecing your scattered brain together, you realized that you two were standing just a foot back from where a staircase had previously been; now just an empty abyss that you’d nearly walked right into. 

“I’m so sorry!” you stuttered.

“My mind was elsewhere.” 

“And was elsewhere worth nearly falling to your doom?” he raised a brow. You almost apologized again before you noticed the suppressed quirk of his lip - he was making fun of you. You rolled your eyes and pulled away, only just registering how close you two still were. He let his arms fall from around your shoulders, his hand lingering in your hair for just a moment before brushing it off your shoulder as it fell. 

“Maybe,” you teased, resuming your trailing of the first years, now following behind another well-meaning senior.

“Was I that boring?” Cedric grinned, twirling to face you as he walked backwards. The irony of the boy who just chided you for not watching your step walking backwards just to speak to you was not lost on you, and a mirthful smile painted your lips. His cinnamon-brown locks were swept out of his face, cheeks seemingly forever flushed a lovely red hue. You’d known him for all of two minutes and could already tell he possessed a magnetic charm. He reminded you of one of your friends back at Ilvermorny, Ben, and the smile on your face grew wider.

“Not really, but if you were half as klutzy as you are charming, I’d think I was in the wrong country,” you replied thoughtlessly. You could tell from the confused look on Cedric’s face that the sentiment was lost on him, so you rushed to fill in the blanks.

“I mean -- you remind me of my friend is all. For all the charm that oozes out of Ben, I swear he lacks the same amount of grace,” you sniggered, delighting at the thought of your awkward (yet somehow still immensely popular) friend. 

“You guys are around the same age, too.” you added. 

Cedric slowed to a stop in front of you, forcing you to stop as well. He leaned in close, close enough for you to smell the sweet scent of the chocolate frogs on his breath that he’d no doubt eaten on the train -- before bringing a hand up to rest on your head.

“All I’m getting from that comparison is that you think I’m charming,” he said. Face burning, you brush his hand aside as he lets out a loud laugh, stepping back. You feel him sling his arm around your shoulders as you guys start walking again, a rather familiar act for such a stranger. You found yourself rather comforted by his presence, a welcome reminder of the warmth of your friends back home you’d been missing. 

“Rather familiar already, Cedric?” you ask pointedly. Cedric raises both brows at you this time, tightening his grip.

“I’d say we’re best friends already, wouldn’t you? You even called me Cedric!” he joked.

“That’s because I’m an American,” you rolled your eyes. “It’ll take some getting used to the whole last-name-basis you lot like to use. It seems too...unfamiliar.”

A blast of cool air hit your face as your group passed the Great Hall once again, seeming to come to the end of its tour.

“Well, I’d be glad to be a familiar face for you,” Cedric offered. “First name basis and all...(Y/F/N)?”

You let out a giggle at the questioning tilt of his head, before nodding enthusiastically. 

“Thank you,” you said gratefully. “You don’t need to pity me though. If that’s what you’re doing.”

“Not at all,” he responded. “I think we’re on our way to becoming best friends already, actually.”

The cheeky grin on his face was enough to break down the last of your walls, a smile blowing across your face as well. As you two chattered away, a certain blonde haired boy was watching you from across the hall. Still ~salty~ about your abrupt change in attitude during the two of you’s conversation earlier, you’d been on Draco Malfoy’s mind ever since. And when you were sorted into Hufflepuff house, he’d decided that you certainly would fit in amongst those muggle-loving, tree hugging weirdos anyways. But despite that, he still felt a weird thump in his chest when the sorting hat was finally placed on you; as if it would agree with him that you needed to be amongst Slytherins, where you truly belonged. And seeing you laughing alongside Cedric Diggory reminded him of a few hours earlier, when you were laughing with him — or maybe at him, but whatever — and he also decided he didn’t like that. Draco almost found himself marching over to confront you before he remembered that Cedric Diggory was a full three years his senior, and a skilled enough wizard that by the time his father heard the news he’d have probably already spent a few days in the Hogwarts infirmary, hexed to oblivion. While cursing his age and how it’s the sole thing keeping him from giving you a piece of his mind, Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when you suddenly turned and made eye contact with him. Giving him a large wave, the smile on your face suddenly convinced Draco that he’d do anything to see it again, and any earlier rudeness on your part was thrown out the window. Weren’t you angry still? Wasn’t he angry still? Lost in thought, Draco didn’t notice his friend coming up behind him until he felt Blaise’s hand drop heavily on his shoulder. He flinched, immediately turning his back on the Hufflepuffs across the hall. “What are you staring at, man?” Blaise inquired. “Nothing at all,” he said defensively, moving his body even more in order to block his friend’s view. The other boy looked at him in suspicion before shrugging, wrapping an arm around his shoulders before steering him towards the doors. “Flint’s talking about organizing the tryouts for this year,” said Blaise. “We should go check it out.” Nodding his head along to whatever else Blaise was mumbling in his ears, Draco felt the annoying compulsion to turn around once more. Stifling the persistent feeling, he swaggered out of the Great Hall. But, he couldn’t help but wonder if your eyes were still on him or on Diggory.

A/N: this chapter is shorter because as I said in a previous post it’s been sitting in my drafts and I just wanted to get it put out. This is also really more of a bridge chapter. My MacBook crashed so I wasn’t able to write more and I got annoyed with my phone bc I feel like it inhibits my creative juices :( I’ll try and get ch 3 out soon! Lmk if I should create a tag list :)

[pastthebutterflies]

Amantes Maledic

Fundamentally, human dances and witches’ balls sound the same: fine clothes, plentiful food, corny decorations, endless dancing. Amity has to admit, without the added risk of being cursed hanging over your shoulder, human dances almost sound like more fun. Almost. Or, Luz and Amity go to a dance and gay panic ensues. 

Read here or at https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159519 

The Hexside Enchanter’s Ball is the quadrennial highlight of any learning witch’s life.

Amity hadn’t been, not yet, no one at Hexside had, but her parents insisted it would be the best night of her young life.

The ball, fun fact, had been where her parents had met for the first time. Both being adept spell-casters with a twin knack for illusions, it was a wonder to half the student body that they hadn’t met stumbled upon each other sooner.

But her father, having been the night’s first victim of what was known as the Lovers’ Curse, had slipped off to the hall to sulk alone only to find her mother in a similar state soon after. The rest, as they say, is history.

(“The curse may be meant to break hearts,” her mother says one day, staring lovingly at her ring. “But I think it mended mine.”)

According to Luz, who, since joining Hexside’s ranks, had taken to skipping up beside her in the halls between classes, human schools held their own Enchanters balls- called dances , there- once, sometimes twice a semester. How they don’t lose their charm happening so often, Amity isn’t sure. A ball is a special night, meant for moments like her parents’, happening every few months, to her, they lose all meaning.

(“Then there’s this one called the Sadie Hawkins Dance, where the girls ask the guys out. I was never really sure where that left me, though…” Luz tells her one day as they walk to class. She’s not quite sure what a Sadie Hawkins is, but Luz seems into it so she tries to like it too.)

Fundamentally though, human dances and witches’ balls sound the same: fine clothes, plentiful food, corny decorations, endless dancing. Amity has to admit, without the added risk of being cursed hanging over your shoulder, human dances almost sound like more fun.

Almost.

So, a few days later, when Luz asks her to go as her date, Amity is a little less than surprised. Their relationship as it stands is rocky at times, but overall hardening into something stable, familiar.

They’ve kissed, once, in the heat of the moment after a particularly grueling rescue from the Warden’s prison on the edge of town. Neither of them had mentioned the moment and since then, Amity was nearly tempted to believe Luz had forgotten all about it.

That is, until a bundle of flowers fall out of her locker as she’s leaving.

The flowers, yellow human world orchids if she isn’t mistaken (she isn’t), are tied together using a loose ribbon with a small card attached. In Luz’s careful handwriting she reads:

Turn around? <3

When she does so, Luz is already waiting, having somehow snuck up behind her. She’s rocking on her heels, wearing a crooked grin with her fingers tangled together in front of her.

“I know the whole ‘being seen in public with me’ bit isn’t really your thing and that our relationship is kind of-” Luz makes a scattered up and down gesture with her hand that actually sums them up rather well, “but do you want to go? With me? To the dance, I mean.”

The entire speech comes out in a single, rushed breath that leaves Luz looking as if she had just run a mile. With every syllable, her eyes had gotten wider, until, by the end, there are two wide saucers where her eyes should be.

“Luz, I-”

Don’t trust her, she thinks. Luz had helped the twins that night in the library, this was all just another trick. But she stopped them, too. Not to mention helped her stop Otabin the Bookmaker from sealing them both inside his story with him forever. But the abomination trick- which she had apologized for.

Saying no would be so much easier, she thinks, then, unfortunately, remembers that she still has the fifth Azura book in her bag. Yet another thing Luz hadn't had to do.

Amity looks to Luz, to the flowers, back to Luz. Her heart stutters.

“I’d love to.”

The week leading up to the Enchanter’s Ball, Amity’s parents dart around in a flurry of excited preparation.

She and her siblings are swept up into the commotion until they’re tried every piece of formal wear in the Boiling Isles. Her mother drags Amity and Emira all across town until they eventually agree on something suitable, while their father takes Elric to get his suit fitted.

Overall, it’s a busy week filled with nothing she finds all that important, but goes along with for her parents’ sake. The dress she eventually settles on is a mix of purple and black that stretches to her knees- a bit simple for her family’s usual taste, but it’s comfortable, she likes it, and she thinks Luz will too, so it stays.

She isn’t sure what Luz will show up in. Considering she had jumped here from the human world with only her backpack, Amity isn’t sure where she’s planning to find clothes without any money, short of raiding Eda’s closet. With how secretive Luz had been about the whole night, Amity doubts she’ll know much of anything until they get there. But, knowing Luz, she had a feeling things will work out exactly as they’re meant to.

Well, that, or the entire evening will descend into chaos like they are prone to when Luz is around. She figures there’s a fifty-fifty shot.

“You know, break her heart and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The morning before the ball, Willow chases her down on their way to school. It only takes her a moment to realize that they are stopped in the same clearing as the day Willow’s ‘abomination’ had stolen her spotlight in class...so she had tried to have Luz dissected. Good times.

The glare Willow wears as she plants herself in front of Amity is more threatening than she ever remembers her being in all the years they had known each other. She’s almost proud, Luz must be rubbing off on her.

Still indignation pokes at Amity and pushes her to snap back, “Or you’ll what? Poke me with one of your thorns?”

Willow crosses her arms in a way that’s so Willow, that it causes a twinge of regret to rise up in her chest. “I’m not the one you should be worried about, or did you forget that Luz lives with a demon king and the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles?”

Amity scoffs, “please, King? He’s harmless.”

“But Eda isn’t.”

She’s heard the stories from Lilith countless times. Eda was- and still is- a menace when she wants to be. She won’t admit it, not to Willow, but Eda is the last person she wants to get on the wrong side of.

“I won’t hurt her,” she promises, and means it.

“I know.”

That night, her parents think she is going alone and, for once, the twins don’t try to correct them. Her parents wouldn’t care that Amity is going with a girl, people don’t care about that nearly as much as they seem to in the human world- it was more the human aspect that concerned her. Humans weren’t common in their world and neither Amity nor the twins were exactly keen on explaining that she was kind-of-sort-of dating the first one to visit in over a decade.

Instead, when it came time, the three of them slipped out the front door and went their separate ways. Elric and Emira vanished as soon as the house was out of sight. They claimed that, with every adult worth worrying about being distracted, the opportunity in front of them was too good to waste.

She hadn’t asked for details.

When she arrives, Luz is nowhere in sight. Running late, most likely.

As her classmates begin to file into the building, she waits outside, pressed against the wall. The wind ruffles her skirt as she scans the crowd, but there’s no sign of Luz, not even as Gus and Willow head in, who seem to be searching as well.

Inside, the music drifts out to shake the walls of Hexside so hard she can feel the vibrations underfoot as she waits. Party of a lifetime, now she just needed to enjoy it.

Eventually, the crowd thins out and leaves Amity alone. If she heads in now, chances are that she will find Luz waiting, ready to bounce off the walls all evening and wondering what took her so long. With all the students flooding by, she had probably missed her heading in. Nothing to worry about.

Knowing this, Amity stays outside a moment longer, scanning the empty treeline, before she kicks off the wall and finally heads in.

Down the road, just out of sight, Luz swallows around the lump in her throat, then pushes ahead.

The Lovers’ Curse, otherwise known as “Amantes Maledic,” has been with the Hexside Enchanter’s Ball for as long as time can tell.

First cast against Delaney Wail and her date, Frederick Morrister, by an angry ex-lover at Hexside’s first ever Enchanter’s Ball, the two were doomed to be bitterly torn apart by night’s end. However, inexperienced but powerful, the spell’s caster not only cursed Wail and her date, but the entire ball.

On that fateful night, every couple in attendance is said to have turned on one another in the span of an hour and, in the process, nearly tore the school apart from the inside out. Though the spell has since lost its potency, legend says that each year, the curse will still take a victim.

-Pg. 198 of “A Cohesive History of the Enchanter’s Ball”

Luz still hadn’t shown.

Amity has checked every place she can think of, then checked them again. But the dance floor is no less wild than she would expect one filled with wild, sugar-crazed witches to be, the buffet is still in stock, meaning Luz, with King most likely sneaking in behind her, hadn’t yet been raided, and Gus and Willow only look at her pitifully when she asks if they knew what was going on. She’s not here.

Luz isn’t here, but Amity is, alone.

There’s no one else around she can sit with, either. Boscha and her other friends aren’t exactly her biggest fans at the moment and sitting with Willow and Gus by herself is asking for an awkward time. If Elric and Emira were here, she could hide with them, but they’re off doing who knows where doing who knows what and Amity isn’t sure she wants to get involved in another one of their schemes anyway.

After a final loop around the room, Amity all but throws her hands up, and Willow was worried about her being the issue.  

Stupid Luz, stupid dance, stupid- what were you thinking?

Deep down, she should have known this was going to go downhill. Every second with Luz was another way to crash and burn, the girl was a walking disaster magnet. For all Amity knew, she was off helping the twins on their latest plot- or this was their latest plot. But, she wouldn’t, this time wasn’t like the library, she hadn’t known.

With no one around to see, Amity kicks the wall, only to hop back, hissing, as her toe connects with solid stone.

“Come on,” she cries as she flies off balance.

Her arms start to flail as she tumbles backward, only to suddenly stop just as she expects her head to meet stone when arms wrap around her middle and pull her back up.

Better than bleeding out in an abandoned hallway, she supposes.

As soon as she’s back on her feet, Amity spins around, a thank you on her lips, when-

��Luz?”

Her outfit is a patchwork mishmash of tuxedo, bright pink skirts, and heavy leather boots, in a way that’s handsome and beautiful all at once. She’s thoroughly, one hundred percent Luz. In short?

She looks absolutely stunning.

“Amity!” The sudden sheepish expression she wears doesn’t match the rest of her at all, it’s unnerving.

“Where have you been?” She demands.

“I-”

“Did you realize I’ve been waiting all night and you couldn’t be bothered to show? Did Eda need you for some crazy spell? Is that what’s important to you?”

Hurt flashes across Luz’s face and, for a split second she thinks good, then remembers what Willow said and knows she has to prove her wrong, if only for Luz’s sake.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says. “That wasn’t fair, whatever happened probably wasn’t your fault. You just really worried me.”

“No,” Luz says, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “I should have told you sooner. About tonight. I got scared, I almost didn’t come.”

Oh, oh .

She really should have seen that one coming. Of course Amity couldn’t keep this, she had never had it to begin with.

“You didn’t want to be here, not with me.” She backs up, ignores the way her voice breaks. “Gus and Willow are inside, you should go find them.”

She pushes past Luz to find the exit, a bathroom, somewhere that isn’t here. She knew it, knew it.

“I was scared of the curse,” Luz shouts behind her.

At that, Amity pauses, frowns. Turns around again.

“The what?”

“The curse ,” she repeats. “The Lovers’ Curse, the one everyone keeps talking about.”

Amity blinks and presses one hand to her temple.

“You...Thought we were going to be cursed?”

Face red, Luz nods.

A part of Amity wants to laugh, another part wants to kiss Luz on the spot and never let her go, while a third, much smaller part still wants to walk away while she has the chance.

Thankfully, logic steps in and tells her to take Luz by the shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She shrugs, “look, I still don’t get all the ins and outs of the Boiling Isles. I was scared it might all be some dumb joke or just another thing I didn’t understand. I wanted you to think I knew what I was doing for once.”

There’s a good chance Amity is blushing, hard, right now. In the darkness of the hall, she hopes Luz can’t tell.

“I don’t think anyone has ever cared that much before,” her hands slide down to intertwine with Luz’s. She leans close and kisses her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Never,” she promises. “And if it helps, I heard Ervin Fowler and his date stormed out about an hour ago.”

“Those two? They seemed so solid…”

“It’s a curse, what did you expect? If it helps, they’ll both bounce back by tomorrow. Their relationship may be a mess, but the physical effects of the curse don’t last long outside Hexside.”

“So, they’ll be okay?”

“As okay as you can be after a bad break-up.”

They’re both less tense, now, she can feel it in the way Luz’s shoulders drop, not wound up, like she was waiting for the final blow. An easy grin has taken over her face, as well, the one that, on a good day, would mean she was up to something.

“Hey,” Amity says after a moment. “Do you wanna dance?”

“More than anything.”

As they slip into the crowd, the music quickly rises up around them, filling up the space between them until there’s nothing left but her, Luz, and the beat.

As the world slips away, Amity leans in and holds on tight.

[tysonrunningfox]

Two Night Stand AU: Part 7

Ao3

Hiccup (3:52am): Astrid please, I can explain.  Better than I did.  I’m sorry. 

Hiccup (3:52am): Astrid

Hiccup (3:53am): I keep saying your name, I don’t

Hiccup (3:53am): It’s my favorite name

Hiccup (3:53am): I know my name I just a bodily function but I love how you told me that and also none of this matters because I

Hiccup (3:54am): Please, if you get these, please give me your number.  Please. 

Hiccup (3:54am): I’m not begging.  Not in the manipulative way.  Or any way. 

Hiccup (3:56am): Except I actually am begging. 

Hiccup (3:56am): In the pathetic way. 

Hiccup (3:58am): I thought about running after you.  I didn’t because well, I was naked, or not, that’s not, I

Hiccup (3:59am): Please, just say anything.  Please.  I need to talk to you.  I

Hiccup (4:02am): I’ve been saying ‘I’ a lot, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about what this means to you and I’m guessing it couldn’t be worse.  This couldn’t have gone worse.  I was everything you feared and more.  Or less. I don’t

Hiccup (4:03am): I don’t want your comfort, not that you’d give it, I’m saying I’m the worst.  I’m saying I’m awful and I’m sorry and this is so bad and it looks even worse than it is and I’d like to talk about exactly how bad it looks with you.  Only you.

Hiccup (4:04am):  Please, just message me back or give me your number or your address, I won’t stalk you, I’ll just send you a long-winded letter in cursive on cardstock. 

Hiccup (4:05am): I’ll buy cardstock, I can’t write cursive though

 This is pointless.  And stupid.  And the only thing Hiccup cares about even as he gets the notification that Heather’s plane has landed.  She’ll be home soon.  Fine.  It’s fine. 

He should make the bed.  He should shower.  He should do anything but obsessively message the perfect girl who isn’t responding. 

Astrid. 

Astrid. 

Astrid who feels like home.  Astrid who’s gone.  Astrid.  Astrid. 

He keeps saying her name like it has a hidden definition.  Like it’s a code that can unlock some way out of the mess he’s placed himself in. 

It can’t, because there isn’t. 

Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck. 

Because he made a mess.  Not just a mess.  A mud pit, in which he voluntarily brought dirt into his life, and then mixed it with water, and then invited someone who lacked the qualifications to turn mud into structure into his life, and somehow, instead of being a disaster, it just lit everything on fire.  

The mud pit is a clay-pit.  The moving sculpture of his life fired into place the second that he realized Astrid for what she truly was.  Is. 

It has to be possible.

Or, you know, there’s just no reason to any of this. 

But the thing is that after pulling the short stick enough times, it ceases to be random chance and starts to feel like reserved karma.  And Hiccup would like to cash in. 

And yes, he understands that the idea of karma is not a genie in a bottle, it is not a magic wand, it cannot magically bring Astrid into his life, not that he’d want it to because—well, she’d hate it—but he thinks there should be some sort of cosmic station where one could exchange the sum of their theoretical suffering for what they want. 

Like he lost a leg, that’s…big ass misery, ok?  That was a gigantic ‘fuck you’ from the universe.  He endured it with a mostly strong chin and stubborn sense of humor, but right now, he is willing to drop it forever just for a specific configuration of ten digits. 

That’s a pretty good deal, right universe?  Deal or No Deal?

Spin The Wheel of Fortune, Universe. 

Do You Want to Be a Millionaire, Universe? 

The Price is Right, as in this is the best he has to offer, so Universe, maybe make your move. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Heather calls from the living room as she disarms the security alarm. 

Check.  The universe says, sliding the queen of the castle into view. 

“In the bedroom,” he says back, staring down at Heather’s note, wondering how leading with it would go.  Not well, not that there’s any way any of this will go well. 

It’ll be faster maybe, if he leads with the Dear John letter he knew about for weeks that led him to make a ‘fuck you’ account on a dating website and God, he is so stupid. 

“What the fuck is this?”  Heather dives right into it, standing in the doorway with a folded piece of paper in her hand. 

“Oh, sorry, I was supposed to be vacuuming with my pearls on,” he says flatly, “I forgot we were going to roleplay Leave it to Beaver, which takes on a very different meaning when you add the sexual element—”

“Hiccup,” Heather sighs his name like it’s an impossible to squelch bodily function, and he can’t keep Astrid off his mind for even a second, can he?  “The note, by the front door, what is it?” 

“I’ve…” He swallows hard, wiping his hand on his boxers before picking up his only shred of pitiable evidence, “I have the note right here.” 

“Trade me,” she raises a non-plussed eyebrow, but her hand shakes as he puts her own letter into it and takes the scrap of paper from her. 

Thanks for last night.  I had fun.  Great apartment!

xx Astrid

It’s smeared, written in makeup, casual in a way that Astrid isn’t.  In a way he thought he was before he met her.  His mouth goes dry and he tries to hide it, looking up at Heather and waiting for her to react to her own note. 

She stares at it for a second before frowning and folding a new crease in it.  When she holds it up at him like the last card in her Uno hand, it hits him for the first and final time that he really was batting out of his league with her.  Not because she’s too good for him, even though his decision process over the last week or so corroborates that, but because she’s wrong for him at some fundamental level that he never believed in. 

He knows he’s playing fast and loose with the concept of karma, but for the first time, fate makes some kind of sense. 

“When did you find this?”  She looks ashamed under her hard edges, the ones that don’t blunt and crumble even when they’re alone.  The ones he used to think were strong when maybe they’re actually cruel, but he’s not dumb enough to blame her for making him that way. 

Maybe they bring it out in each other.  Brought. 

“When did you write it?” 

“Does that matter?”  She laughs and Hiccup shrugs, willing himself honest even though it’s hard. 

“Probably not.” 

“Because of Alison, or whoever wrote the slutty little note you left me to find?” 

‘Yes’ is the honest answer, but not the right one. 

“Because you’re right.  It’s not working.”  He sighs, “it hasn’t been for a while, we’ve been…growing apart—”

“You haven’t been growing at all,” she retorts, “and your snarky, cryptic thing isn’t as charming as it used to be when I’m around it all the time—”

“That’s fair,” he taps his temple, “I live here, it’s not great.” 

“You waited until I was out of town and cheated on me instead of just telling me directly that you’d found my note.” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “and you didn’t give me the note, I think it’s fair to say that communication has been breaking down for a while.  And communication is the cornerstone of any relationship, so suffice to say when that breaks down, the relationship goes with it.” 

She shakes her head at him, slowly, a little shocked.  He doesn’t remember the last time he actually surprised her, the last time she authentically laughed at his antics instead of spurring him on with a half-interested glint in her eyes.  She doesn’t quip back though.  That hasn’t happened in a very long time. 

“What happened to you?”  She asks after a too long minute and he shrugs. 

“I…realized it was time to be honest.  To stop doing this just because we feel like we’re supposed to, because we’ve put so much time into it.”  He feels it now, everything that drew him to her in the first place.  All the hours and days and weeks they spent together, making friction like it was a resource.  “The fact is, I don’t think we’re right for each other.  I think we’re just…or at least I was scared that there’d never be anything better.” 

“So, you’re breaking up with me because you’re infused with optimism that we’re both going to find something better.”  She shakes her head, looking lighter and bored and not hurt enough for what he did.  “You really believe that?” 

“Not believing it wasn’t working.” 

“You’re an idiot,” she points at Astrid’s note, which might as well be his prized possession now, because he’s going to have to move and it’ll fit in his wallet. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yes, I’m furious with you but…I get it.  I wrote the note, I wish you hadn’t found it while snooping, I should have just given it to you.  I would have if I thought you were capable of being this mature about this—”

“No, not about—we’re broken up, I think we both understand it, but umm…did you ever fake it?”  What starts as half a joke ends in some bitter, curious, cringing place that he never wants to visit again, but given that this is probably his last chance to get the facts, he goes for it.  “When we were together?” 

He makes a hand gesture that he wishes he hadn’t.  Heather shakes her head and he thinks she’s feeling the bad fit too.  He thinks, because he’s realizing that he never learned how to read her face, not really.  And not because she didn’t let him, and not because he didn’t try, but it’s a language with a different taproot, something he could struggle with for years and never be fluent. 

“A year together.  A fucking year and—all this,” she gestures at the apartment that he didn’t even really like, but agreed to because going with the flow was the way to make their bickering day touring apartments end, “gone, and you want to know if I faked it?” 

“You shouldn’t do that,” he lectures, internally cringing but feeling lighter.  Vindicated, maybe.  Fully through the veil of embarrassment and into someplace free.  “It’s no good for you, it didn’t help me.” 

“Right, you do so well with criticism.” 

“Maybe I do,” he shrugs, “I think we both know there are a lot of things we never learned about each other.” 

“You’re an asshole.” 

And that makes him think of Astrid, and how he’s never felt closer to anyone, and how he wants this to be over with and then, how Dagur is probably going to beat him up.  He probably should get in touch with his long lost cousin, that’s probably his only chance against Dagur’s impending wrath. 

“I can move out.” 

“Ok.”  She stands up and looks at him with dwindling recognition, the polaroid of the present crystallizing in her memory and affirming him eternally as ‘that dickhead’.  It’s…it sucks.  He sucks.  “Let me know when you’re out, I’ll go stay with Dagur.” 

“Shouldn’t take that long,” he regrets how mean it sounds until it seems like she doesn’t care, cut off from him in a way that isn’t new.  He should have noticed.  They should have talked.  They didn’t, he was an asshole, and now the idea of Astrid is a North star brighter than the blizzard and definitely brighter than the vengeance his ego would like to imagine in Heather’s expression. 

Except it’s not there.  And he has no ego, not right now, not when he’s so eager to exit this conversation and this chapter in his life. 

She is too.  She wrote the note. 

He should have just told her he found it. 

He’s so glad he didn’t, and he’ll hate himself for it later, when the leak in his heart is patched. 

“Alright.”  She stands up and he half thinks she’s going to shake his hand, but she doesn’t, “well, bye, Hiccup.” 

Her voice might catch.  His throat might hurt. 

As soon as she leaves, he opens the dating site again and tries to message Astrid. 

Hiccup (5:10am): I broke up with her

CustomerHelpBot (5:10am): The account you are attempting to contact has been inactivated

Hiccup (5:11am): good job changing your name, very convincing

CustomerHelpBot (5:11am): The account you are attempting to contact has been inactivated, for further information, please contact customer service at 303-555-7893

Hiccup (5:11am): that’s a really weird way to give me your number. 

CustomerHelpBot (5:11am): The account you are attempting to contact has been inactivated, for further information, please contact customer service at 303-555-7893

Hiccup (5:12am): I’ll call the number

He gives the supposed threat a minute to sink in before doing just that, and the robotic voice that picks up honestly shocks him. 

“You have reached the customer service hotline for America’s Favorite Dating Site, what can I do to help you?” 

It’s not Astrid. 

Not remotely. 

For one, the voice is entirely humorless, entirely dead.  Bored in a way she’s not capable of, he’s seen it as she prowled around this apartment he hates, looking for something to do.  Also, it’s a guy. 

“Hi, I—Hi, you’re not—I’m actually looking to get in touch with someone I met on your site—”

“What is your name, sir?” 

“Hiccup Haddock, my username is—”

“PrincessOutpost?” 

“Thanks for not making me say it out loud.”  He was drunk when he thought of that.  He was drunk when he made this stupid plan.  He was sober when Astrid showed up, eyes bright and shoulders strong, breathing hard as she introduced herself and shook his hand. 

So awkward.  So pretty.  

And no, that first time wasn’t great.  It was…necessary, like spring cleaning, but after they talked…after they got to know each other…

“I’m afraid we can’t give information about any of our cancelled accounts to anyone but the police.” 

“She cancelled?” 

“The last profile that you interacted with is inactive, as of even earlier this morning.” 

“That—come on, man, it—”

“I’m sure it was magical, but we are legally obligated not to give our customers information out.” 

“I really just need a phone number or an address or…or a last name.” 

“I get that sometimes you don’t get a chance to talk much—”

“Rude,” Hiccup snaps. 

“But we are legally obligated to not give customers’ information to anyone but the police.” 

“The police?”  He pauses, picking Astrid’s eyeliner note up off of the bed and staring at it, resisting the stupid, fond, useless urge to swipe his thumb across her name. 

“Yes, they’re men in blue who enforce the laws.” 

“So, if I know she’d broken the law, you’re saying I could get that personal information.” 

“Sir, our service doesn’t exist to help stalkers—”

“What about people who break and enter?” 

[sometimeswritingsometimesdying]

The Sun and the Moon-Maybe-Bird

A/N: me? projecting onto Logan? pffffft. of course. (Look, i wrote this while sleep-deprived as fuck so idk how good it is)

Warnings: angst, fluff, lots of fluff, overly extended metaphors that make little sense in the end, pat’s parents aren’t really there, kissing, let me know if i miss something!

Pairing: logicality

Summary:  Logan likes to think of himself as the moon. Patton is the sun. They're not supposed to touch, the sun and the moon, but they don't abide by the laws of physics.

AO3

The moon was in love with the sun.

He had been since the beginning, probably.

Well, the moon didn’t remember his beginning. In fact, he often wondered if he ever actually had one. Light and darkness cannot survive without each other. The sun and the moon knew this, very well, and they dared not touch, for whatever balance they had, which often precariously jittered and wobbled but never actually fell, would be broken.

But the moon wondered whether he did ever start being. If he ever did come to be something, someone. Someone with a heart and a soul, someone that was somehow known to others.

And the moon was indeed someone, but he was not someone. He was a boy, with dark hair and dark eyes and everything the moon has. Secrets and dark places and weak gravity that makes people flutter away rather easily, like birds perched on the edge of a tree branch.

To the moon, people were a lot like birds, and he was so far away from them he’d never understand what made them want to be birds. Perhaps, they liked it because they were unaware of being birds, as most people are.

They always think they’re free, but they’ll never see space. And the moon liked that. The moon, had, for the most part, the universe to himself.

The moon had a name, too, but not many used it. To him, the riddle What is yours but others use more? Never would’ve made sense. He said his own name to himself more than others said it to him, or about him.

He never forgot it, however. It was easy to not forget things when it’s one of the few things going on in his head.

Logan. That was his name. He also had a last name, but no one really cared much for it if not the occasional teacher. 

Logan wasn’t the actual moon, of course, but he did feel like it was the right analogy for him. He wasn’t exactly gloomy, but he wasn’t the brightest light either. He liked to be alone, and his voice would echo around his head, twisting and turning, until it sounded like someone else calling him. He used to fall for that trick a lot when he was a kid, but with time he learned to ignore when he heard the echo come back for him.

Then there was the sun. And once Logan didn’t know much about the sun, if anything at all. To him, the sun used to be like other people. He used to be like a bird.

But, when one took a closer look, at the sun’s bright eyes, golden hair, golden skin scattered with freckles, and radiating smile, they realized the sun was very much burned, from the inside out. The sun bursts into flames periodically, eyes gleaming and smile becoming radioactive, infecting everyone around him. The sun was a star, and all Logan was was an old piece of stone created from the sun’s birth.

Maybe the sun had come first.

The sun had a name too, a name that was said more than a thousand times each day, each hour, each minute, each second, until all you could hear was that sound burying itself in your mind, until you could never forget a name such as that of a boy such as him.

Patton. That was it.

The sun and the moon were never meant to touch, but it didn’t stop the two of them

No, instead, Logan and Patton didn’t abide by the laws of physics, or the rules of the universe, or whatever all the science books Logan read said.

Instead, they sat together under the trees, one reading the other drawing. They’d head out and go see a movie. Sometimes, the sun will come up in the middle of the night and ask the moon to come out with him, have some fun at some party the sun had been invited to.

Because everyone wants the sun at their party, but who wants the moon to be there? With its quiet eyes and calm nights.

And sometimes, the moon and the sun would just sit on Patton’s bed, which happened more often than not as his parents happened to rarely be around anymore.

They’d put on a cassette and play their favorite songs.

Sometimes, the sun would stand up, shining his radioactive smile, and Logan would follow him, and holding hands the sun and the moon would dance.

Two celestial objects dancing to jazz music, nonetheless.

And some days, they’d put on music and they’d just talk. About everything. About nothing. About whatever crossed their minds.

And sometimes, Logan would say stupid things. Things he’d only heard echoed in his mind along with his name.

“I think I’m like the moon.” Patton didn’t laugh. He never did. Logan wondered if it was because he was crazy enough to understand the things that slipped his mouth at times.

“How?” Logan shrugged. Patton rolled over to end up with his head in Logan’s lap. Logan smiled at him.

The moon’s smiles weren’t nearly as nice as the sun’s. They were harder to find, harder to notice. Slightly crooked, no matter how much he had tried to change it, slightly too small, slightly too him. People called him a lunatic sometimes. Which only added to his theory of being like the moon.

Patton hummed as Logan’s fingers carded through his hair, a song about summer on in the background. It was summer after all. The moon had a hard time realizing when time passed, when the seasons changed. He only new day and night, the occasional test date, which was very unuseful now that school had ended. His teachers always described him as a daydreamer, even with his high scores on exams, which wasn’t true. 

He wasn’t daydreaming, he was listening to his echo.

“Patton?”

“Yes?” he didn’t ask for him to complete his thought. Logan often forgot his trail of thought or got lost in something else. Sometimes he just forgot that he actually had to talk to explain what he’s thinking. Sometimes he’d just give up on his thoughts completely.

“You’re the sun.” Patton sat up, golden curls flopping back down over his forehead.

“That would make sense. I’m the sun and you’re the moon!” Patton tilted his head curiously. “They’re pretty far away though. And I like having you close.” Patton tilted his head the other way as if considering another side of the problem. “But the moon is very beautiful. And it brings light when it’s dark!”

Logan smiled at the other, wondering how he followed his thought process. “The sun reflects its light of the moon, making it shine, Patton.”

“Still.” Logan laughed quietly, as the music faded and moved onto something more melodic and sad.

“The sun is fundamental to life. Without it, everything else wouldn’t exist.” Patton’s lip quirked, feeling silly and giggly for some reason. Which made Logan feel silly and giggly too. And they made each other silly and giggly until they both started laughing, light and carefree and fun.

Like birds, they laughed.

Once they were done, several moments, or eternities as it seemed to Logan, they both fell down on the bed, facing each other.

They quieted, and the music seemed to do so with them.

Logan observed Patton. His freckles, the small gap between his front teeth that had been persistent through childhood and most of adolescence. His eyes, so alive and free and burning.

Icarus had gotten too close to the sun and died. But Logan wasn’t like Icarus. He was already too close to the sun, but he hadn’t died yet.

They moved together, at the same time, and like the beginning, neither started it. It just happened, as all things do. Some force of gravity at play perhaps.

They met in the middle, mouths fitting together clumsily, noses bumping, but in every way perfect.

Galaxies were created between them, stars burst and stars were born. The whole universe relapsed to the singularity and then back again.

Logan felt Patton’s hand settle on his cheek, and the two pulled apart reluctantly but remained close.

There was something simmering in him. Something that was lighter and lovelier and felt better than he had in a long time.

He felt free, alive. Because he had kissed the sun.

Logan got close enough to the sun to feel alive.

And he realized that he felt like a bird. Was this it? Had he finally learned what most people felt like? Like everything that was being showered in the light of the sun?

Logan thought that couldn’t have been possible. If everyone felt like he did at that moment, there wouldn’t be wars. There’s wouldn’t be blood spilled for stupid causes, people wouldn’t be cruel.

Everyone would feel like birds then.

He opened his eyes, searching for Patton’s blue, so blue ones.

“Do you feel like a bird?”

“I think I always have. Or maybe not. I don’t know Logan.” Patton laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Logan smiled, and this time he didn’t hide it. “I don’t know either.”

They smiled. Only for them.

And then the sun and the moon-maybe-bird fell forward, lips interlocking again, this time with more precision.

Logan decided that if Patton was the sun, he wanted to bask in his light forever.

[hes-writer]

One of My Own

Summary: Harry falls out of love with Y/N

Warnings: angst!

Word Count: 3.1k

Based on: Y/N and H being a couple for a long while, however, H falls for someone else and that person turns out to be Y/N's sister. @littledreamybeth

Harry came into Y/N’s life at the best time possible. Although she lived away from her family, she received news and updates from her sibling who did stay with their parents. It was bad. Every night, Y/N’s parents fought about the tiniest things and her brother, Carlos, did his best to intervene so it wouldn’t get any worse, but to no avail. It was unfair for him since he was so young, he was only in high school too; he didn’t deserve to be muddled in their parents’ mess. Daniela, their sister, was a few years older than Y/N and had decided to travel for the past two years meaning that she couldn’t do anything about it since she was far away. Y/N tried to come home as much as she could, she didn’t want Carlos to be alone more than he should but it was difficult for her as well. She was in university; broke and barely had the necessities to make ends meet, surely she didn’t have money to spend to travel to and fro from campus residence to a three-hour train ride back to her hometown. But she tried her utmost hardest.

When Harry and Y/N met, her parents were just beginning their disagreements. They mentioned divorce during dinner once with Daniela joining through video chat from across the world--probably the last family dinner that they’ll have-- and Y/N took it the hardest since she was the closest with both of her parents. Carlos got on well with their dad and Daniela preferred their mom more. Y/N was the middle ground, the middle child, and her relatives often asked her if she was doing okay when she younger because apparently that the second of three children was the one who was often forgotten or not paid attention to enough. That wasn’t the case for Y/N’s family because for as long as she was aware of, her parents were loving and passionate, both of her siblings were normal--some teasing here and there but all in all, they were the picture perfect family of five, the only thing missing would be a furry pet dog.

The stress of her education, the environment of her job, and the state of her crumbling family took a heavy toll on Y/N and suddenly, everything she did required a little more effort from her already weak body. The simple things, like getting up in the morning or making herself eggs for breakfast was substantial for her and Y/N slowly slipped into depression. She was in denial at first, having experienced some unhappy moments in her life, but she could tell that this time around was dissimilar. She was uneducated you could say, she had a schema of what it was like to have depression and most of them were false and untrue. Y/N always thought that that had to sprout of a giant traumatic event-- which could be the case-- but she hadn’t thought that her parents’ upcoming divorce would be a reason for it. Hell, they didn’t even make it official yet! It was only a suggestion so Y/N was a bit confused why she was waking up sluggishly, walking lethargically, and seemed to have no motivation for anything. Y/N realized, then, that depression didn’t have to begin with something so huge-- it could be small things that build up into something bigger and bigger and before she knew it, she was in this state.

It seemed that meeting Harry was the one good thing in her life at the moment and it was true. He sparked up joy back into her life, made it feel like it was worth living. Her grades were on an all-time high ever since it decreased last semester, her home wasn’t as much of a mess, most importantly-- he made her feel loved again. It was a slow burn for their relationship and it took months before he had the courage to ask her out on a date. Their feelings for each other were pretty obvious, but Y/N didn’t want to risk losing their friendship so she shut up about it. Besides, most of her relationships never ended well, and she lost parts of herself to the people that didn’t deserve it. Soon, he asked her to be his girlfriend in the cheesiest way and Y/N was a happier person than she was before meeting Harry. She seemed to have a deeper understanding of her parents’ decisions and her heart didn’t ache as much when she envisioned the future of her family.

Y/N knew that self-care was the utmost achievement that she needed to reach. For years, she had been building up, fundamentally gathering the pieces she lost to make herself a better person; more open-minded and less secluded from people around her. Of course, she wasn’t always like this. Her mother kept saying that it was high school that changed her, and that time of school did change her. Except that being two years younger than Daniela caused some problems for Y/N. You see, Daniela was the stereotypical popular girl. Both of them were pretty but Daniela was prettier. Both of them were smart and made the honor roll, but Daniela was smarter and situated herself on the principal’s list. The sisters were equally talented but the eldest had the guts to actually showcase it at school talent shows. Y/N was the one left in the shadow of her sister; always being approached by the teachers to recommend Daniella to try out for this club or congratulate her for whatever achievement she somehow outshined Y/N on.

And Y/N didn’t really care for boys, not until Billy Watson (her first real crush) approached her when she was putting books away in her locker and saw him from her peripherals. Her heart was pounding and she could hear warm blood rushing through her ears and she swore that her cheeks had turned pink. He smiled at her, making Y/N want to combust from swooning right then and there, but she also wanted to run away as fast as her legs would take her to squeal to her best friends about how he even looked her way. But none of those things happened because Billy asked if her ‘sister was single’. Suddenly, the blush on her cheeks were ones of embarrassment, wondering how she ever conjured up a thought that he was coming over to talk to her because of her. Of course, it was going to be about her sister. That was the story of how Daniela stole Y/N’s first crush. It wasn’t really stealing, but she felt as though she did.

Daniela didn’t just steal Y/N’s first crush away from her; she also managed to snag Y/N’s first boyfriend. It was puppy love, Y/N thought in retrospect. He and she had feelings for each other and didn’t know any better but to join the bandwagon of relationships. They were dating for a solid two months when Leo came up to her after class and asked if they could speak in private. Y/N was glad because he was finally talking to her again. Some communication had been lost between them leading up to their talk. Leo led her into the parking lot to talk about how it ‘wasn’t working out’ between them and that he found a more ‘mature’ person to be with-- his words. Since it was puppy love, Y/N got over it quickly, nodding at him in understanding and hoping him for the best with his new partner. She rarely saw him in school afterward, not until Daniela announced that she was having a guy over to study and he might ‘stay over for dinner’ did Y/N find out the more mature person Leo was talking about was her sister. It was a shock to Y/N to step into the dining area, sitting down at her usual spot around the table only to be met face-to-face with her ex-boyfriend. She was flabbergasted when Daniela took his hand into hers and made the official declaration. Her parents had some obvious concerns because Leo was younger than her, but Leo swooped in to explain that he was wiser for his age. Her sister didn’t know that Y/N and Leo were dating; he never mentioned it and Y/N didn’t either.

That wasn’t all though. There was an instance during Y/N’s senior year and she fell hard for a guy named Kelvin. She hadn’t dared get into another relationship after Leo for quite some time, but when Kelvin approached her with a bouquet of flowers with a nervous quip to his voice, she thought to herself that maybe all guys aren't the same. It was her longest relationship thus far, ten months and Y/N was smitten with him. She wanted it to be that way forever, it was a powerful bond between them and Kelvin was the sweetest to her. They made plans for their post-secondary institutions, noting not to go too far away from each other. They went to senior prom as each others’ dates, and they graduated together. It was during the summer when their relationship fell through the cracks and Y/N got the message that Kelvin met someone new. He explained to her how he never cheated on her and thought that it would be best if they broke up because he didn't feel the same as he used to. His feelings were ailing, thinned by the insignificant distance between them and it was being developed for the woman he had met. Imagine her surprise when Daniela came home during the holidays with a man wrapped around her arm to see that it was Kelvin.

After that, she abstained from getting into relationships while Daniela was around. It wasn’t that difficult since she was timid and hesitant when meeting new people. Plus, she was fine on her own. She moved out from her parents’ house and into residence. She learned to be independent with herself and not co-dependent with another person that will only hurt her in the end. In summary, Y/N’s experiences weren’t the textbook example of finding true love or fate bounding you to your soulmate because it inevitably concludes to her sister getting the guy she loves.

So when Daniela announced her journey to travel the world, Y/N was saddened by the loss of her sisters’ presence, but she was hyped about finally having her chance at love without the possibility that she was going to steal that away from her as well. It was for two years, she had said. Months after, her parents started fighting and then she met Harry.

-----

Harry and Y/N have been together for such a long time. Y/N was afraid of commitment because of her sister’s actions, but Harry had somehow broken down the barrier and he single-handedly tore it down with his kindness. Y/N knew that Harry genuinely loved her, not only through him saying it but also through his actions, his eyes and the way he looked at her with so much love that she could drown in it. He was different. He was mature, caring, and loyal. Trustworthy, she thought. He was the best match for her and he reassured her that his love won’t be swayed--ever. Y/N believed him once her heart started feeling lighter instead of denser when she was around him. It was a feeling that she couldn’t ignore because no matter how much her brain flashed to warn her to get away, her heart fluttered tremendously and Y/N took that as a sign that maybe he was the one.

The best version of herself appeared when he flashed her the brightest smile that she couldn’t help but mirror his expression. His humble heart and the knack he had to help others influenced Y/N to be the same.  A little kinder to the world, he’d say before wrapping his arms around her from behind. He’d give her kisses on her cheek and act like the most adorable person ever. She was full of love, love for Harry and the feeling was reciprocated. It wasn’t like the past and Y/N gained hope each and every day that things can turn around for the better.

-----

Daniela was set to return in a week, just in time for her to talk to their parents and help finalize the divorce; help them settle if this was what they really wanted. She had asked Y/N to pick her up from the airport since her driver’s license had expired during her time abroad, but Y/N had to take an important test that day. Needless to say, Daniela was disappointed and Y/N’s softer heart couldn’t bear to hear her sister’s sad voice through the phone. She offered for Harry to pick her up instead.

“Harry? Who’s that?” Daniela questioned. Y/N gulped, not knowing how to respond. The memories flashing back into her head.

“H-he’s my boyfriend,” She whispered and she wished that her sister didn’t hear her.

“Y/N Y/L/N, why did you not tell me that you have a boyfriend?”

Because I was afraid that you would take him away from me like you’ve done before.

“Slipped my mind, I guess.” She concluded. “What time is your flight?”

“10 and woah woah woah. Aren’t you gonna tell me about him?”

“Um … he’s not your usual type,” Y/N began, but she decided that Harry was someone that she wanted to show off. “He’s the kindest person ever and his heart is made of gold, I swear.”

“Ooooh, sounds like a keeper. Is he hot?”

She changed the subject after that.

--------

It was three nights later since Daniela got back. Y/N was currently putting on her make-up for a catch-up dinner with her sister and Harry. She was too busy with school to spare time for Daniela, but she said that she understood and that she appreciated Y/N for having met Harry. An alarm would usually start blaring in her head, but she ignored in favor of Harry’s loyalty to her.

“Harry, are you ready yet?” Y/N asked while carefully applying black liner over her eyelids. He didn’t respond to her even though it was her second time saying it in the past minute or so.

He hummed back at her and she couldn’t help but turn around to face him to see what had him so distracted that he couldn’t even reply to a simple question. He was sitting on her bed, legs spread open showcasing his muscular thighs in his black dress pants. His dress shirt was a pale blue, the first couple buttons unbuttoned to expose his chest. His blazer was hung in front of her closet to avoid getting wrinkled while he sat down, waiting for her. He was on his phone, clutched between his large hand and close to his face that meant he was chatting with someone. His small mannerisms were what Y/N noticed the most about him.

“Who you chatting with there?” She joked, taking steps towards his direction so that she could grab the pair of heels she’d planned to wear tonight. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Harry had twitched to make his phone inaccessible to her, his finger pressing on the lock button quickly. That was another warning she had failed to label as important.

“Just Dani,” He slipped out casually, phone lighting up against his palm indicating that he had received a new message.

“Dani?”

“You sister, innit?” He told her, looking up for a brief second.

“Oh uh, why are you texting her?” Y/N asked, nibbling on her lip while she fiddled with the straps of the shoes.

“Is it a crime to text?”

Y/N paused her actions, alarmed at his defensive tone. “No, it’s not,”

“She said that she just left. She’s on her way at the restaurant,”

She nodded at his brief update.

----

HIs attention was divided, she could tell. If it wasn’t for his long response time, it would be his actions. The couple arrived first at the restaurant despite Daniela saying that she had left earlier than them-- according to Harry. They were seated in a decently sized table, it was only three of them. Y/N was in the middle of talking about her busy week but she couldn’t help but notice Harry anxiously turning his head in circles as if he was looking for someone. He was fine, he said. And he proceeded to ask Y/N about Daniela with the excuse that he hadn’t heard her talk about her sister that much in the months that they were together. Y/N thought it was sweet that Harry was making an effort to get to know her sister.

When Daniela arrived, it was Y/N who spotted her sister first, standing up from her chair to rush over and give her sibling a hug after not having seen her in a long time. The hug was short and it was filled with a gracious exchange of ‘i miss you’ and ‘how have you been’. Y/N never really noticed how much she missed her sister until she was standing right in front of her. They pulled apart from the hug, Y/N walking them over to the table were Harry sat quietly with a small smile and a gleam in his eyes.

“You’ve already met but Harry, Daniela. Daniela, Harry”

As Y/N sat back down, an uneasy feeling settled itself in the pits of her stomach as she watched Harry stare at her sister conspicuously as if she was an art piece in a gallery. It didn’t help that Daniela was looking at him right back with a bitten lip that Y/N could only label as desire.

She brushed it off but thoughts and conclusions bounce through her head the entire dinner. She couldn’t help but compare herself to Daniela again like she did when she was younger. The make-up she’d applied felt heavier as she looked at Daniela’s natural looking face, emphasizing that she didn’t need to do much to look beautiful. She wore a pale blue dress as well, almost white with the lighting whereas Y/N decided to wear an eggplant colored dress that she now realizes doesn’t match Harry’s dress shirt combo. 

It was an accidental coincidence, it’s not like they planned it, she thought.

-------

new series, let me know what you thought!

@ynm1505 @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango

[awesomecodies]

Elle, the lost wolf. #lorwolf

Hi guys, this is my submittion for the Lorwolf Giveaway. I everyone’s having a good time and enjoy my piece of fan fiction. --- Every day in Loria, I fell lonely, scared, and lost. Everything here was never safe, never enjoyable, and never fun. There were just shadow hills and vast, barren wastelands. There is nothing that would interest my Wolfie-little-mind.

I don't know how I got to Loria, but somehow I did. After that, I have been trying my best to survive this wasteland. Yes, I have tried very hard. But nothing works according to plan. When you are a wolf, you suppose to go with packs. It's "suppose" because I am not sure. After all, I never was apart of one. One day, I woke up, and here I am.

But it's not that bad. One day, suddenly, everything changed. It feels like I was in fairyland. Suddenly trees have leaves, lakes that were holes and lines across the land some hours ago, there seems like some energy that is giving Loria this appearance. An invisible force pushed me outside the core of Loria, which now is glowing in bright white. Just a few seconds, then it's disappeared, nowhere to be found.

Loria is now a paradise of life, beauty, and harmony. The last day I was lonely, now I could see other wolves. But still, I don't have any friends yet; everyone who sees me always tries to speak with a weird tone and use a lot of weird-sounding words that I bet no one understands. After some tries, I end up giving up.

My life continues as usual, but more comfortable in some extend. I don't have to hunt for trees that still have some editable fruit tied to them; someday I eat leaves. But now, every tree has life, and the food they offer is tempting. Everything seems so bright. The so they called "Elder Wolves" rule over the land. And they say that as long as they are here, Loria will be land of unity, and bounty.

But like everything in life, nothing last forever. One day, the core of Loria lights up again, but this time it's not bright white, it's bright red with shades of black. The appearance screams "bad guy". And then there was a sound, screaming from all angles:

"I am Chaos, I am here to help this land gets better."

"Wolf-crap" Somehow I heard that, after some time I realised I was the one he said that. "How could Loria be better?"

Without answering anything, from Chaos strikes our dark-green spheres. After it hits some wolf near em, the wolves that already been slightly touched by the spheres, starting howling in rage. Their eyes began to glow green, they seem to be not as friendly anymore, they started attacking the nearby wolves. And like wolves do, the other non-infected wolves started attacking back. We can't control it, it's what wolves usually do.

The battle was lengthy and somewhat exhausting. I did get attacked, but my fundamental skills for hunting and my excellent eye-sight helped me a lot. We killed some of them, but some of us are also killed. After some of us are supposedly dead, they rise up like some source of zombies and start attacking others. Just fighting back won't help if we continue, we will perish.

The others continue to fight back, defend our motherland, Loria. But it's seem something is off, The Elder Wolves are nowhere to be found. Instead of the Elder Wolves, there are some glowing orbs of white, surveying the land. In a few minutes, all the shining orbs started to combine to 1, I felt a push, like every other non-infected wolves. We started rising and flew in rows neatly around the glowing orbs. Just then, a force field started rising from the ground, created a globe around us. The infected wolves began running, trying to pass that force field, but, how many they tried, they always are pushed out.

Then, the orbs started to transform into the Elder Wolves, but they still flying. They said they are surprised and inspired by some of the wolves that always keep fighting. They have thought of destroying the entire Loria and build them from the ground up. But after seeing how brave the wolves are, they decide otherwise.

They end up calling upon the sons and daughter of Totema, and gave them powers to protect us. Totema told that she actually has 5 sons and daughter, but one of them is missing or 5 years now. The Elder Wolves steered at Totema, then.. started casting spells on the 4 siblings. But, right then, I started feeling a sudden pulse, my heart stopped for a few seconds, then started beeping again. Right after, my eyes began to see other wolves, not just their appearance, but there insides. What their heads are thinking, what they are scared and not scared, their memories... I seem to like to have mind-reading abilities.

The other 4 wolves also seem to have super-powers as well. One got over strength, one got fortitude, one got the master of cunning, and one got over restoration. I don't know why I also been giving a super-power. They started to glow in bright white, and then, the Spirits Wolves are born. I don't glow in white,.. but still... I still got the powers.  The Elder Wolves told them, but they seem to also tell me, to go and protect the other wolves.

Our story is just beginning, and we have so much to share.

And soon, we're going to be able to go to the unknown.

[jayyrayy90]

I'm so angry and disappointed. I'm so frustrated with my own self too bc no matter how hard I try I can't even force myself to hate you. I have numerous reasons to hate u but I can't. I guess I'll never be able to.

What's so fucked up to me is how you can just erase me like I'm nobody to you. How you can flip a switch in your brain and I've suddenly become your enemy. How you so easily can make so many promises to me, how you can look me right in my eyes and lie to my face so easily, and how you act like you've done absolutely nothing to me or act as if the things you done were something insignificant and dumb and I'm just being overdramatic about them. Like the shit you did shouldn't matter just bc of shit i did 5 years ago or simply bc u hated me so those things were justified.

To this very day you have no respect for me and treat me as if i meant absolutely nothing to u. I don't think you will ever understand how bad that hurts me Jasmine. You, of all people in this entire world, broke me down piece by tiny piece until there was nothing left of me. You drained me of my last bit of sanity, hope for love, and I will never let another human being get close to me again as long as I'm here on this earth. You took all of that away from me so effortlessly, carelessly, and easily. I never meant anything to you and I wish like hell I knew exactly what made u hate me so much that you'd even consider doing the things you've done to me.

In some sick and cruel way, I believe u got some kind of enjoyment out of watching me fall apart. You enjoyed knowing you could go do whatever you want and come back to me whenever you got ready bc like a dummy I'd always be there waiting. I was so stupid and foolish to even think any of your promises were sincere. What made me look even dumber was the fact that I believed you and in you. I had faith in you. I was so gullible and blinded to believe that the person you used to be was still somewhere inside of you. That loving, honest, sincere, faithful, and LOYAL person u used to be had been dead and gone years ago and you kept showing/proving that to me. Yet i kept fighting to bring her back. I kept praying, hoping, and wishing that someday I'd get my baby lovey bear back. I failed to even try and believe the things you were so effortlessly trying to tell me with your actions. You've been trying to tell me that you didn't love me anymore for so many years. I was trying so hard to be/say/do everything you wanted just to make you love me. I pushed the things you were doing to me so far in the back of my mind that i allowed myself to become blinded. I just kept telling myself that you were lost and didn't know what u were doing at the time, every time I would think about the things you did.

Truth is, you knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly what risks u were taking. U knew exactly what u were jeopardizing. You knew. Yet you still did it anyway. You didn't care and still don't about what happens to me or my life. You have no idea the amount of pain that causes me. Its honestly like I'm loving the shadow of a person who never existed.

The way you left me, I would've never left you like that, even if i did hate you. All those years we spent together and you just leave me like that knowing I was broke. I would've never in a million years plus some, NEVER left you like that. I would've bet my entire life that you wouldn't have ever done that to me.

When you came back in my life, the one thing you would always say was, "The way I left you last time was fucked up and I know it. I got my karma. I'd never leave you like that again." Something similar to that anyway. But guess what, you left me even worse than you did the first time Jasmine. And u don't even care. How can you not even care?!! I have no words to even describe the pain. Words couldn't even come close..

In the beginning i wasn't much of the person I should have been. I had issues and addictions. I wasnt really worth your time. I put you through hell and for that I will forever be sorry. If im being honest you terrified me, no one had ever saw me the way you did. No one had ever wanted me the way you did. No one had ever made me feel the way you did. I had walls that had always kept me safe and kept me braced from the world but you... you somehow made them fall over time with your undying love for me, even when i was awful. You saw me through the worst times of my life. If not for you i wouldnt be here today. you saved me.

To me, we had a beautiful bond and an amazing love. You were everything i ever wanted and i couldn't believe you were mine. Maybe looking back that is where the trouble started...I had such guilt for who i was and how i treated you at the start and i felt so lucky to have you that i started to compromise on the things that were fundamental to me. I started to give way more then i received and i started to let you think things were okay that honestly weren't. I let you start to walk all over me and looking back maybe if i had stood up for myself then, instead of just feeling like i owed it to you for sticking with me then maybe things would be different today..

I stood by you, i did any and everything for you. I let you take out your anger on me. I would pretend to sleep until i knew you were asleep so i could just make sure you were okay. I was watching you hurt in a way i couldnt fix. I didnt know how to help, so i decided to just be everything and anything you needed. I put my entire life aside and made you my priority, my world. I dont regret it, you needed me and i was there without question.

This is where it started to go downwhill, you were changing into someone i didnt even recognize and the worst part is you couldn't even help it. Our life had become one full of fights and make ups only to fight again shortly after. You were pushing me away and i didnt know why. I dont even think you knew why, so i took all the hateful words, the poor treatment, the lack of time invested and the lack of love being shown and made it into excuses for you because of what you were dealing with. Looking back i dont think this helped you the way i thought it did. It taught you that i was always going to take it. I was going to let you walk all over me and i was going to apologize when i didnt do anything wrong simply to avoid a fight. It didnt help, you left me in such an agonizing way. i was shattered, my entire life had just fallen apart and i was lost. You were my world and you were just gone!!

I was your friend. I was your family. I was your lover. You are a person that could have been any number of things to me. Heartbreak plays no favorites when it chooses people in life to let you down. I really always had faith in you. I trusted you and the promises that you made to me. I believed in your aspirations and disregarded your ambiguity. I let you in, against my best wishes. I relentlessly defended you. I saw the beautiful parts of who you were. I made plans with you and kept them in my head like a guaranteed magnificent destination.  I loved you. I gave you all that I had and now I am left feeling empty and cheated. But do you know what the strangest and most unbelievably frustrating part of all of this is? I forgive you.

Your betrayal shook my foundation. Not just the foundation of us, but the foundation of everything I thought. All that I believed about love was up in the air. I wasn’t sure about anything. It wasn’t just about you. I was now questioning everything.

The truth is, you didn't really love me. Maybe you loved the idea of me. Maybe you loved having me around because I would have done anything for you, but if you really loved me, you wouldn't have destroyed me the way you did. That's not love.

I loved you so much that I lost sight in everything else, especially myself.  I glued myself to you so tightly because I was so terrified of losing you. Lets be honest though, you were never really mine to lose, were you?

You always treated me so coldly, and I couldn't ever understand why when all I ever did was love you. Sometimes the harsh words you used still stay inside of my head.

I was never good enough, or at least that is how you would treat me. I was always wrong, I was the crazy one after the break up, it was never you. It was always me. You were poison to my heart, and I wanted so badly to save you, but I couldn't. You destroyed me mentally and emotionally to the point where I can’t even feel emotions anymore. To the point where I am literally completely numb to feeling anything or having real true emotions towards anyone or anything.

When I met you, I knew. I knew in some way, shape, or form, you would hold incredible significance to my life. I knew you were going to be a constant. I knew you would change me.

Yes, we had our disagreements, but we always made our way back to each other. I always felt you in my heart, there was nothing you could do to make me that upset for long. I already needed you. I knew, the second I held you close to me, I knew, that this was it for me. You were it. All I wanted, and all I would ever need.

You have issues, my love. Internal struggles with yourself, external issues with your family and others around you ­and it weighs you down. I never have held that against you. But the struggles you faced made it impossible for you to love me the way you wanted to, the way I needed you to. Still, I held on, praying you would stay with me, praying you would get better. Through all the fights, the petty disagreements, and the abuse, I stayed. Why?

I loved you blindly of course. I loved you without restrictions, and without caution. I loved you wildly. In my head, I knew you could be better. I wanted to see that happen for you. I wanted to help you get to where you should be. I believed in you. I loved you so deeply, I would have, and did do, anything on Earth for you.

The truth is, you are not who I once loved. That person is gone. That person took some of the deepest parts of myself with them. I will always love them.

Had you tried for me, love, had you tried for you, we would have been in love forever. But you didn’t, and sitting around waiting for you only made things harder on me. I’ve accepted the fact that the you I once knew is gone.

I didn’t want to move on from you. I hoped in the deepest cell of my heart that you would come back and sweep me up and make things better. But eventually, I chose to move on. I chose to heal myself. I chose to fix what you shattered. It didn’t come easily, and nearly everyday is a struggle… but I have to. You are the love of my life, but you are long gone now...

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Broken Glass Diamonds; Chapter Three

Word count: 2184

Warnings:

Summary: The year at the hotel continues.

AO3 Chapter One Two

Roman studied the large blackboard. On the plan of the week, they always wrote down not only the date but also how many weeks it had been since the beginning.

Now it read 46.

Forty-six weeks of physical training, first aid, lessons in controlling powers and finding ways out of all kinds of theoretical predicaments. Later the situations would be training simulations and then, maybe one day, they would be real.

They had started out with 200 people and true to what Thomas had announced at the very beginning it had been watered down to 75.

"Are you coming?" Patton's voice startled Roman out of his thoughts. "I already checked. We have free time till lunch."

They wore a dress and had a frog clip in their hair.

The elevator had gotten stuck just a few days ago and had been closed off completely since then so they had to take the stairs up from the basement.

Not-Julian, who still refused to tell Roman his real name, didn't look up from his laptop as they passed him and just gave them a quick wave. The kid looked sickly pale lately but Roman hadn't asked what was wrong. He had been busy and he was pretty sure that the kid wouldn't come to 'work' if he was actually ill.

"I heard there's a shopping mall somewhere around here," Roman mentioned as they stepped outside. "I don't have much money but we could just look around and stuff."

"Sounds great! I'd like to be around other people again," Patton beamed. "I mean - civilian people."

"Yeah, I get it," Roman smiled back at them. "Plus, I haven't seen the news or read a paper in forever. What even happened since we got here? Has the world been taken over by corn - wielding cows in astronaut helmets?"

Patton giggled at his theatrics.

"Why astronaut helmets?" they asked.

"I don't know. Maybe they're alien cows. They came from a galaxy far, far away to conquer Earth because someone send a TV signal out into the Universe and they saw all the alien invasion movies. So they thought it was a party. An invasion party," Roman shrugged.

Patton laughed. "And who send the signal?"

"Mhm. Good question," Roman stroked an imaginary goatee. "NASA? Nah, too obvious. Maybe it was Netflix and they somehow got someone's password?"

They went on like this, Patton asking questions and Roman building out the story of the corn - wielding alien cows in astronaut helmets. Which, by the time they got to the mall, apparently also had a burning hatred for Justin Bieber and an undying love for beagles.

The mall had big windows but a solid roof, much to Roman's relief.

They walked around aimlessly for a while, just looking around and trying on a few things here and there. It was the kind of stuff Roman's friends had tried to get him to do when he was younger but he had never had the time for. But now, as a legal adult, he found that it was actually kinda fun. Especially with Patton,  who switched the green 'they' wristband for the blue 'she' one at about ten o'clock.

"Hey, let's get some ice cream!" Patton suggested and pulled Roman towards the food court.

"I told you I don't really have money," Roman said but let her pull him along anyway. Mostly because he was pretty sure that he couldn't escape Patton's grasp unless she let him.

"I do. I can just pay for you!"

Roman went to protest but Patton didn't let him.

"It's not that much! I really have more than enough to invite my best friend out for ice cream!" she smiled at him over her shoulder and Roman knew that he had lost.

"You can be so stubborn sometimes," he muttered with no real malice behind it, shaking his head and Patton laughed again.

There was no queue by the ice cream parlour since it was still before noon and most people were either still at work or getting actual meals for lunch.

There were a lot more flavours than Roman remembered from when he had been younger. He did his best to ignore both chocolate and banana even if they were the only ones he actually knew.

"What can I get you?" the man behind the counter asked in the most deadpan voice Roman had ever heard. His nametag read Chad.

"Er, I'll take a scoop of cookies with rainbow sprinkles... and what do you want?" Patton played with her wristband.

"The same," Roman blurted out. If Patton ordered it, it couldn't be bad.

"That'll be 3.60$," the cashier said, still without any inflexion and put the first ice onto the counter.

"Hey, we have the same glasses!" Patton noticed excitedly as she pulled out her money.

The cashier looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Roman could tell that the guy was getting feed up with them so he quickly took both ice creams and gently pushed Patton away, only stopping to tell the man to have a nice day. He didn't respond.

The ice was good. Roman closed his eyes and could perfectly picture the small kitchen back at home where he and Remus would steal some of the dough on the rare occasions that Mamá baked. It tasted just like that raw dough and even had some chocolate pieces inside.

"Let's head back," Roman suggested. "So we're not late for lunch."

Patton stopped abruptly.

"Wait! I forgot something!" she handed Roman her cone. "I'll be right back!"

With that, she vanished into the crowd.

Roman stared after her for a moment. She hadn't had a bag with her that she could have left anywhere as far as he could remember and he had no idea what she could have possibly forgotten. Had she wanted to buy anything that she just hadn't mentioned?

With nothing better to do Roman licked off some of his sprinkles and chewed on them.

A few minutes later Patton appeared again with a small paper bag under her arm.

"Sorry I made you wait," she smiled apologetically and took her own cone back.

"It's fine," Roman shrugged. The question of what was in the bag burned on his tongue but he didn't ask.

Patton took ahold of his now free hand and together they walked towards the exit they had come in from.

The walk back was mostly silent and Roman finished up his cone just as they arrived outside the hotel. Patton had eaten a bit faster than him.

Someone had apparently oiled the door while they had been gone because it opened easily and quietly. Roman wondered if they had repaired more than that but the one neon light was still broken so he guessed that they hadn't. Baby steps.

Not-Julian didn't look up as they came in. He looked even paler now. Maybe he was sick and just too stubborn to stay at home. It sounded like something Roman would do and - if he was honest - had done multiple times. Except that he had done it because he couldn't afford days off. He was pretty sure that Not-Julian didn't have the same problem.

The next time they got a day off was on Christmas.

They were allowed to go home over the holidays or stay at the hotel if they didn't want that. Naturally Roman chose to go home.

He had enough money for two tickets with him, one to get home and one to get back to the hotel, and Patton had insisted to loan him some to get his Mamá a small present. They had also given him one, with the strict instructions to not open it before Christmas morning.

Roman took the first possible train. It was foggy and smelled like snow. While waiting at the platform he made a small ball fire between his hands to keep himself warm. It had become so much easier to control his flames over the past months.

He wondered if Remus would be there. Most likely he would. Would come back from somewhere and for just a few days they would all be together again and would catch up with each other about everything that had happened while they had been apart.

They train came, Roman got on and just a few minutes later fell asleep.

He woke up just barely before his stop but at least he was awake now. Well, more or less.

The walk from the train station to the apartment building they lived in wasn't very long but as soon as he turned the first corner Roman was made aware of how long he had been gone.

The place where the rundown cinema was supposed to be was empty. Something new was being built in its place but the constructions had barely started with the fundaments.

Roman hadn't know that the cinema would close, let also be torn down. A poster by the sidewalk showed an apartment building with prices. One of the flats that hadn't even been built yet was already sold.

With a heavy feeling in his, stomach Roman continued on.

There were new graffitis on the walls. A new store, selling cigarettes, alcohol and lottery tickets. Too many new things.

The apartment building was the same.

Roman slid his key into the lock and turned it and the door sprung open. The elevator was still full of the same writings and scribbles. The tenth floor, where Roman got out looked as grey as ever.

He pocketed his key and knocked. They had a doorbell but the sound of it gave Mamá headaches.

He heard shuffling and then the door opened.

Mamá wore her old apron, her hair was up in her usual bun and held back by a blue headband with polka dots on it.

"Hola, Mamá," Roman smiled and opened his arms.

"Estás en casa," she enveloped him in a tight hug.

In the kitchen, a timer beeped loudly and demanding and Mamá ushered him inside.

"Your brother will be here in just a few hours," she informed him in Spanish and went to put on her baking gloves. But Roman beat her to it and pulled out the tray barehanded. Another thing he had discovered through the program; he wasn't immune to only his own flames.

For the next hours Roman told Mamá everything while they made dinner.

He told her about the hotel, Patton and how they had become friends, Thomas and the other instructors, Not-Julian and his weird family and everything he had learned.

Mamá listened, asking questions from time to time and smiling at him almost the entire time.

It was already getting dark when Remus came.

He had grown a moustache and a patch of his hair was grey. He grinned at Roman and one of his teeth was missing.

But he didn't talk about where he'd been.

He stuck a toothpick into his gap to find a way that it would stay there but he didn't tell them how he had gotten it.

He joked that now he and Roman finally didn't look the same anymore but didn't give a real answer when Mamá asked why he had dyed his hair, other than claiming that he hadn't.

So Roman continued to carry the conversation during dinner and after until they wished each other goodnight and went to bed.

Christmas itself was almost normal. They exchanged gifts, ate cookies they had baked yesterday and lit candles.

Still, something felt off.

Roman couldn't figure out what was wrong until he stood on the train station again and hugged Mamá goodbye.

The promise of departure.

The fact that no matter what happened they'd have to leave again.

Not-Julian sat on his counter when Roman arrived late in the evening. There was a plate of sweets next to him and a lonely string of Christmas lights had been hung up over the key wall. It looked sad in the otherwise grey environment.

"How were your holidays?" Roman asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

"Alright, I guess," the teen shrugged. Roman noticed that his voice had gotten a lot deeper. "Babushka couldn't make it because she was the main suspect for the murder of her fourth husband, so that was kinda disappointing. But otherwise, it was okay. Uncail Ronan introduced us to his new partners and they are pretty cool."

Roman stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out whether he was supposed to ask or not.

"How was yours?" Not-Julian asked before he could decide.

"It was nice. I got to see Ma and my brother again," Roman shrugged.

"That's nice," Not-Julian said in a way that Roman couldn't tell whether he meant it or not. "By the way, your friend is here too. Same room as before."

"Really? Thanks," Roman smiled and swiped a chocolate bar in passing. The elevator was still out of commission so he jogged up the stairs and dropped off his bag in his room before going back to visit Patton. He had missed them.

---

So, I'm not completely sure yet, but this might be the last chapter of Broken Glass Diamonds. I might write one more but likely not.

I am not done with the story tho (by far). But since it'd probably get boring to only have Roman's view for the entirety of this story I want you to please comment or send in asks about who's PoV you want to see. Whether to see the story continued from their view (for that only Roman and Patton would currently be options) or to get some more information about them (basically everyone mentioned so far except for the people that die in the first chapter and Remus). Depending on the person some parts might be a bit shorter tho.

Have a nice day!

[hazelnmae]

Lies Travel Faster: Chapter Ten

Summary: Sophia Murphy’s life seems to be on the upswing when she takes a job with Birmingham’s notorious Shelby Company Ltd. But when she falls for her boss, CEO and ruthless gangster, Tommy Shelby, she finds herself wrapped up in a tangled web of danger and deceit. After all, lies travel faster than the truth.

Tags: Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character; Tommy/Assistant Trope (it’s a hill I’ll die on)

Warnings: angst; smut; violence; language; rape/non-con; death

CHAPTER 10 (read Chapter 9 or start at the beginning with Chapter 1)

Sophie met Robert at the tea rooms.

The irony of this was not lost on her, though why she continually agreed to meet Ada at the tea rooms was still a mystery. In truth, she longed for Ada’s companionship and relished in a few quiet hours out from under the watchful eye of Tommy and his men. Even though it had been three months since they took out Changretta, Tommy still insisted on posting protection around the city for his family. And he still considered Sophie part of that family despite the fact that they hadn’t acted like much more than acquaintances since the night of the fight.

Robert had already been seated in the room when Sophie and Ada were escorted to their table. She’d noticed his gaze, but ignored it for most of the afternoon. As he was leaving, though, he approached the women and, after a few moments of small talk about the weather, he apologized for his forwardness and asked her for a date. It wasn’t until after he left that Sophie realized she hadn’t said a word to him.

She could tell from her friend’s face that she was disappointed. Ada hoped that Sophie and Tommy would somehow put their issues behind them and would find a way to rekindle what she was sure had been stirring between them. Sophie, though, had convinced herself that none of those stirrings had actually occurred. She and Tommy had only ever wanted one thing from each other. She’d needed a job and he’d needed an assistant. Sure, they were both lonely and may have drifted toward one another because of it, but in the end they both seemed to believe it was a mistake and seemed relieved it had ended as quickly as it began.

It had been three months since she moved back to Small Heath. She’d called Robert the next day, although she’d struggled to recall what he looked like. She remembered he was blonde and thought he may be handsome, but she only saw Tommy’s face when she closed her eyes. When they met for dinner that night, she realized she was right--he was quite handsome. Tall, blonde, green eyes, and wide shoulders--he was different from Tommy. She needed different.

Through the conversation she came to learn he was in local politics. Another fundamental difference. He was a man who could give her an honest life, a man who smiled freely, a man who said he wanted to fight for the residents of Birmingham. But a man as bland as the crackers served with her soup.

She courted Robert for the next few months, but she only allowed him to court a ghost of herself, something that didn’t exist and never would--something that was better suited to his life. It had been easy enough and she couldn’t help but think this is how Tommy had been living all those years since the war.

Tommy hadn’t said a word about the relationship, though she was sure he'd known. He hadn’t said much to her at all and even avoided being alone with her, opting to leave the office door open if he did need to conduct business with only Sophie. It was so unlike him that she didn’t know what to make of it. Tommy never seemed to care what others thought and certainly never seemed uncomfortable or less than perfectly self-possessed. But now he acted as if her presence was almost unbearable.

It hurt her more deeply than she let on.

There were days she thought he paraded women past her just to make her jealous but really she knew he was just moving on with his life.

Not wanting to choose between her friend and her brother, Ada attempted to bridge the gap and spent some time with Robert, later giving him her stamp of approval. To the rest of the Shelby family, Robert wasn’t a topic for discussion. Polly secretly hoped it would fizzle as slowly and dully as it’d started.

But it hadn’t.

Then Sophie found the ring in Robert’s nightstand.

She knew he’d ask her soon.

And she knew she’d say "yes" when he did.

____________________

She entered his office as quietly as she’d knocked, careful not to draw too much attention to herself. When Tommy looked up and realized it was her, her dropped his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair.

“What can I do for you, Sophie?” he asked.

She felt a cold sweat break on her neck. Brandishing a perfectly wrapped box from behind her back, Sophie responded, “I just have a little something for Charlie’s birthday.” And after a pause, “I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

He took the gift from her and thought a moment before clearing his throat. “Why don’t you join us for his party tomorrow?”

“Oh I couldn’t impose.”

“You’re invited, Sophie. You can even bring Robert, if you’d like. I’ve yet to meet him.” Tommy forced a smile.

It startled her to hear Robert’s name on Tommy’s lips. She assumed he knew about them, it wasn’t a secret, but she somehow hoped they could go on forever never discussing it.

“I’m not sure he’d be available,” she stammered, trying to mask the uneasiness in her voice. “But I’d love to see Charlie. It’s been so long.” She responded.

“He misses you too,” Tommy said quietly, looking down at the box in his hands.

____________________

The car pulled up outside her flat at 10:00 am sharp. A young man in a peaked cap was driving and Sophie did her best to make small talk with him during the drive to Arrow House. He answered every question calling her “ma’am.” Sophie just laughed. “I’m hardly old enough to be a ma’am to you,” she said.

“True, ma’am, but Mr. Shelby instructed us to show you the utmost respect,” the young man replied. “He said you were a real classy lady.”

Sophie could only smile. Of course he had.

“Alright, well just between the two of us, then, you can call me Sophie,” she’d told him with a wink. The rest of the drive was pleasant and decidedly more comfortable. So much so that they’d arrived at Arrow House much quicker than either driver or passenger had realized.

Upon entering Arrow House, Sophie was greeted by an exuberant birthday boy who, after a quick but tight embrace, told her she could find the whole family in the back garden.

It was the most relaxed she’d ever seen Tommy--even after all those weeks she’d spent in his home. He was wearing his usual three piece suit, but his hair was a bit tousled and he seemed to actually be enjoying himself. Life was, no doubt, a little easier with Changretta out of the picture. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he may be finding a bit of peace finally. He noticed her across the yard and came to greet her.

“You made it,” he said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she blushed.

“Well, it may be Charlie’s birthday, but I have a surprise to share with you.” And he nodded in the direction of the stables.

________________________

The horse was already saddled up when she entered the stables. He was a deep chestnut with darker coloring on his mane and tail.

“Is this Charlie’s gift?” She asked, smiling wide.

Tommy only hummed in assent as he lit a cigarette. “Well, go on then,” he said, motioning toward the horse.

Sophie looked the horse over and ran her hand down his silky coat. He reacted by leaning into her. Much like the first time she met Belle, Sophie had a sudden urge to ride--to get out in the fresh air and leave her worries behind. She imagined what a brisk ride might do for her anxiety about being back at Arrow House. The anxiety that came with actually talking to Tommy again about more than just ledgers and appointments.

“He likes you,” Tommy said, eliciting a small laugh from Sophie.

“Are you planning to ride him today?” She asked.

“Hmm, yes,” he responded. “I thought we’d both go.” He moved to the back of the stable and retrieved Belle, who was also dressed and saddled.

Sophie couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. I’d been months since she’d been on a horse and she missed it terribly. Sensing her excitement, Tommy handed her the reigns. She noticed the hint of a smile spreading across his face.

________________________

The rain came suddenly and, of course, just as they had turned the farthest corner of the lower field. Tommy was in front and turned to get her attention before moving his horse into action back toward the house. He’d turned a few times to ensure Sophie was still close behind him as he navigated over the muddy terrain, finally arriving back at the house soaking wet. The party had moved indoors and only remnants remained strewn through the garden.

Standing in the kitchen, she gladly took the towel he offered and worked it through her damp hair. He’d taken the brunt of the rain, having shed his coat and thrown it over her head and shoulders as they made their way across the lawn to the house.

She handed the towel back to him. “I think you need it more than I do,” she said.

Tommy chuckled and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before taking the towel. She only remembered seeing him smile a handful of times, and was reminded just how lovely it was.

Just then, the door to the kitchen flung open and Ada and Polly entered, a concerned look on both their faces.

“What is it?” Tommy asked, his brow furrowed now, the smile having completely drained from his face.

“There you are!” Robert exclaimed as he entered the room. “I’ve been worried sick. Damn foolish of you to go riding in the rain.” He was belligerent as he pushed through the women still standing in the doorway. The dark shade of red that covered his face would have betrayed his anger if his words had not.

“It wasn’t raining when we set off,” Tommy said in his calm, low brum. He’d sensed Sophie’s shock and wanted to spare her the embarrassment. “We haven’t met. I’m Tommy Shelby,” he continued extending his hand and brandishing his best, most disdainful smirk.

Robert looked straight at him but didn’t extend the same pleasantries. Ignoring Tommy’s outstretched hand, he turned to Sophie instead.

“It’s time you head home,” he said.

“But Robert,” she replied with a smile, “the party has really just begun.”

“We still need to open presents and cut the cake,” Ada said, trying now to diffuse the situation.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Tommy added, hoping he’d refuse.

“Sophie really must be going,” Robert continued, sternly. “We both should.”

It was Polly’s turn to interject, watching the hatred grow in her nephew’s demeanor. “We can make sure Sophie gets home safely,” she said.

Sensing he was fighting a losing battle, Robert turned to Sophie. “Can we speak somewhere privately?”

They turned back toward the kitchen door, Robert forcefully grabbing Sophie’s elbow. Tommy’s jaw clenched in reaction, but Polly stepped forward and stopped him before he could make matters worse. Sophie jerked away from Robert, but led him out of the hallway and into Tommy’s office.

“This is ridiculous,” he spewed through gritted teeth. “You have no business spending so much time here alone, and you certainly shouldn't be riding off on horseback with strange men.”

“I'm hardly alone, Robert. And Tommy’s hardly a stranger,” she said as she rolled her eyes. She’d never seen him so worked up and assumed it was simply out of worry for her safety.

“Tommy?” he replied. “That’s a little informal for your boss, isn’t it?”

"He’s a friend. They all are.”

“What they are,” he continued, moving closer to her now, “Is a bunch of Pikey criminals.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d been seeing him for three months and had never once witnessed Robert lose his temper or raise his voice--let alone so openly belittle someone. He was supposed to be a good man. An honest man. And a good and honest man wouldn’t find it so easy to be so hateful.

“Friends,” he scoffed, turning away from her again.

“They’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

“Only because they want something from you.”

“And what is that, Robert? What could I possibly have to give that the Shelbys would want?" She felt herself getting angry now and fought the urge to break into a shouting match.

He swung back around and moved closer again, she could feel his hot breath on her face.

“Just one Shelby. Thomas doesn’t want something from you. He wants you. For himself.”

Sophie couldn’t understand how he’d jumped to that conclusion. She'd hardly spoken of Tommy, or any Shelby, to him. She'd certainly given him no reason to believe Tommy wanted her--or vice versa.

“Or has he already had you?”

Anger bubbled closer to the surface now. He was jealous. Still, Sophie said nothing.

“Oh my god. Have you fucked him?”

Robert didn’t know about her past with Tommy--about how close they’d come to letting the spark ignite. Again, though, she refused to answer him. Her mind was racing too quickly to even muster a response. She was reminded of the first time she'd met Tommy and how at that meeting he'd accused her of sleeping with John. Fucking idiots, she thought. All of them.

“Answer me.”

“No,” she finally said.

“Have you kissed him?”

“Robert--” She tried to move away, but he interrupted her answer and her movement.

“Answer the question, Sophie.”

What was the fucking point, she thought. He already had his mind made up.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“It was noth--”

“Don’t give me that,” he shouted, pointing a finger in her face. “You’re quitting that job tomorrow.”

Her job was the only thing in her life that provided earnest happiness. It’d been hard since her fallout with Tommy, sure, but feeling useful, getting to see her family daily, growing closer to Ada, all of that was thanks to her job. She couldn’t imagine giving it up. And she couldn't believe he was asking her to do it.

“And why aren’t you wearing your ring?” He asked now, searching her over for the first time since he'd arrived.

“Robert, no one knows about our engagement. You said you wanted to announce it--”

“I'll announce it tomorrow and you’ll resign your job. Then we can put these fucking Shelbys behind us.”

“Robert--”

“I expect Polly to bring you home. I don’t want his dirty hands all over you.”

With that, Robert stormed out of the office, past Polly who was standing in the hallway, and out the front doors. Tommy hadn’t heard their conversation, but he watched Robert leave the drive as Charlie opened his gifts at the dining table.

________________________

Tommy stood in his office, turning over the small wooden horse Sophie had gifted Charlie.  His son had turned eight and while it still hurt to know she wouldn’t watch him grow, he knew Grace would have been proud of the person Charlie was becoming.

They'd given the boy the same thing--each gifting him a horse in their own way. Sophie told him she saw the toy horse in a shop window and couldn’t resist. He wondered how many times a day things reminded her of Charlie. And of him. He wondered if she thought of him as much as he thought of her. And he wondered what she saw in a man like Robert.

“I’m leaving now,” she said, entering the office. “Polly’s giving me a ride.”

“I could take you,” he replied sadly.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. Besides, Polly has to go that direction anyhow.” She said quickly, before he could object again.

They each stood for a moment, letting the awkward silence fall between them as it had so many times over the last few months. He’d been leaning against his desk, but Tommy now moved toward her slowly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” she responded. “And thank you for the ride. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed that” She said, looking down at her hands.

“You know you can come ride anytime you want. Belle is as much yours as she is mine,” he answered. “And I’m sure Charlie would be happy to share Henry with you.”

Henry. 

He’d named the horse after her brother. 

Tears welled in her eyes. All this time, she thought he was pushing her away because he didn’t care. Maybe he’d been pushing because he cared too much.

Stepping even closer now, so that his hands could reach her shoulders, Tommy asked, “You sure you won’t let me drive you?”

Sophie looked up and met his eyes. She wanted to say yes. Wanted to spend a few more moments with him alone. Maybe she’d even work up the nerve to tell him she was engaged. He could walk her to the door and brush her cheek with his calloused fingers. His breath would blow the delicate hairs around her face as he leaned in for a kiss.

But no. She couldn’t let him drive her. She’d made her commitment, her choice, and she knew getting wrapped up in Tommy again would be a mistake. Despite the horrible side she'd seen of him today, she still wanted to believe Robert was a good man--a good man who could give her a good life.

“I just want to spend more time with you,” Tommy said.

It was the most heartfelt thing he’d ever said to her. He looked away as he said it, as if he knew it, too.

“We both know that’d be a mistake, Tommy,” she responded.

________________________

As she sped down the road, Polly glanced over at Sophie. She was more concerned than ever about Sophie's future and how it may impact her nephew.

“He doesn't know you're getting married,” Polly said.

Sophie thought better than to ask how Polly knew. Polly had her third eye, after all, and may as well have known everything. There was no keeping a secret from her--especially one that impacted the people she loved.

And as much as he infuriated her, Polly loved her nephew. She had also grown to love Sophie.

“Robert wants me to tell him tomorrow,” Sophie said, looking out the window. “Wants me to quit my job.”

“And why is that?” Polly asked now, lighting a cigarette as she balanced the wheel on her knee.

“He's afraid of Tommy.”

Polly scoffed, letting out a puff of smoke as she did. “Yeah, well, he should be. They way he grabbed your arm tonight, I thought Tommy--”

“No. Not like that.” Sophie interrupted. “I mean, he's afraid of me and Tommy.”

Polly just hummed and drove on.

_____________________

Read Chapter 11

Thanks so much for reading! Feedback welcome and appreciated!! XOXO

Here ya go!! @justanothershelby @l0tsofpennies 

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

[dhanushch]

How I became a UX Designer!

(Yaar! It’s not easy)

Part 1 – First Class to Failure

Once upon a time a boy was born to a certain couple in Andhra Pradesh, India who happen to become a designer 18 years later. Growing up as a kid I was very bright in studies and other extra academic activities. Once, my teacher asked me what I want to become I said “Aeronautical Engineer”(…… big pause, ahem🤫), TBH I don’t actually know what exactly Aeronautics was at that time, all I knew was it has something to do with aeroplanes😂. But you never know, it’s kinda nice to sound posh😎.

Just like that life passed by, I studied my way through to the top. 10th grade school first, +1 and even +2 I topped my intermediate college🤓. Trust me, I even received Chief Minister's medal twice one for 10th and the other for 12th. Aeronautics was still my plan before my university counselling and I discussed with my career counsellor from Intermediate college about my dream about Aeronautics and how I planned to take Mechanical in Bachelors and Aeronautics in Masters. I had it all planned it out🤠, and always used to think about me building aeroplanes(LOL😂) and seeing stars🤩. But obviously it didn’t happen that way.

Somehow I got manipulated into taking computer science that too at National Institute of Technology, Warangal (damn you career counsellor😑, I don’t even remember her name). Apparently my career counsellor’s both children are doing CS in some NIT and it is pretty good. Maybe she just was being considerate🤗, but still, she should partly take blame for what I have become. And I got my seat at NITW and there, me being a bright student streak ended🤧, and my life changed forever. But you know I was like, “be optimistic you can handle CS”. And believe me it got worse😭.

On the second day of college, the first period was 8 in the morning and a class of PSCP(Problem Solving and Computer Programming)😳. PSCP was like a killer shark😱. Believe me It was a like a nightmare😨, I had the feeling of watching Korean Horror movie without subtitles😵 and that day I decided, or I should say my fate decided that I can never be a Software Engineer😶. But I don’t give up that easily, I tried hard, harder and hardest and the result was the same🤕. I don’t know if it was me or if it was C++, our affinity was worst. To my surprise I got a passing grade on that subject which I thought I was gonna to fail ruthlessly. Somehow I got through the first year and came to second year😪.

Then in second year came DSA(data structures and algorithms)😱. If PSCP was a killer shark then DSA was a dementor(it slowly sucked life outta me)😓 and along with that came the psycho professor, life couldn’t get any worse than this and I was still trying to get a hang of it🤧. Then things happened and I stayed home for two months🤒 and I completely lost interest in Computer Science, that was the lowest point in my life and a failure that I have never experienced before😞.

I was in pieces, I lost my identity😣.

Part 2 – And to Kinda Success Again

So things were getting pretty ugly around me and I thought I should get a hold of myself and started searching alternate career options. And while I was at that time, Graphic Design🤔 lit a spark in me🔥. I found it interesting, I took my very first Graphic Design lessons from Gareth David Studio. His youtube channel, the content is like liquid gold for anyone who want to start in Graphic Design🔑. My top picks from his channel are

1. Beginner's guide to Graphic Design, 45 episode series where he explains all the principles of graphic design crystal clearly.

2. Learn Adobe Photoshop, 33 episode series where he explains the fundamentals of how to use Photoshop by doing a project. For something free on youtube, it's so well organised.

3. Learn Adobe Illustrator, 19 episode series where he explains the fundamentals of how to use Illustrator by doing a project. For something free on youtube, it's so well organised.

So, months passed by and I slowly got the hang of these softwares and doing some design work to keep me occupied😇. Slowly 2018's summer vacation came for sophomore year and loads of free time. The first book I read was The Fundamentals of Graphic Design Book by Gavin Ambrose and Paul Harris, the book was one of the best books I have ever read(given that I've only read less than 10 books😉). So, to raise my game further I took up Adobe Photoshop Masterclass and Adobe Illustrator Masterclass from Udemy🔥. It was very much worth it, after the completion of the courses I can play around with those softwares🤗. While all of this is happening I barely remember the time when I was at the lowest point in my life but could never forget it either🤫.

Then I started applying to internships, I had the skillset and attitude to become a Graphic Designer😇 and before I knew I landed with two internships. User Experience and Graphic Design Internship from Appswise Technologies, Bangalore and Graphic Design Internship from Draftss, Mumbai(remote). I felt like a phoenix, I felt like I rose from the ashes🔥.

While I was doing my internships, my mentor from Appswise Technologies pointed out that "User Experience Matter" when you are using a product. That was the foundation of my career😍. I looked up what UX and Product Design is all about and found out that is another field of design and interesting too. I took a membership from The Interaction Design Foundation, Denmark in August 2018, which is like a gold mine🔑 of resources for UX Designers. It's so abundant and well-structured. I looked up courses that I need to learn, picked them up and started doing projects on UX Design🤓.

Things started to add up even more together and as time went I was more and more into UX and that's the only career path that I can think of🤗. The free courses I did were Udacity's Product Design course and The Design of Everyday Things course, Gymnasium's Beginner guide to User Experience Design course and Rapid Prototyping course and Udemy's courses, wherever they existed for free🤩.

One such course and one such books were The Design of Everyday Things by Don Norman. Over the course of time I tried Game Design and 3D Design but left them for hobbies and continued to pursue UX full-time😂.

At this time I was like… CS who?! PSCP who?!?! DSA who?!?!?!😎

The UX learning and implementation went on for over an year and I got the hang of it and I thought I was job ready in September of 2019.🤓 Started applying for various jobs, networking thru linkedIn, whatever means I can do to get a job. Interviews went on till November end thru Mid-December, I used to get rejected in the third or fourth rounds. And I slowly started to lose😣, this is where supportive friends come into play and played an important role in shaping my career😍.

My 8th company interview was Nuclei, the first two rounds went on like any other company I got through them😀, I know I'm that much talented. Then comes the dreadful design challenge😱 which will spread over a week. But for Nuclei, the design challenge was just 5 hours for both UX and UI. It was one straight task and one goal and one screen design. So I spent and panned my 5 hours carefully and submitted the task with iterations🤩. The final round was in Bangalore which was Design Critique of Paytm and Book My Show's movie booking experience and design assessment of the design challenge given earlier which went pretty well. I was very positive with the whole process😇.

"I got the job! Hurray!"

Again I was like… CS who?! PSCP who?!?! DSA who?!?!?!😎

And I started my job as UX Designer at Nuclei from Jan 2020😇, an aspiring young man who wanted to become an aeronautical engineer became a designer☺️, quite the turn of events. Things were pretty great since then and I'm waiting for more exciting opportunities in the future.

"More importantly, I found my identity again😍."

[fifiliphaser]

take my hand and follow me into the sun (Cherik fic)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[AO3 Version]

A story, inspired by that beautiful scene at the end of XMDP, exploring how Charles and Erik’s relationship develops from there, and how this development helps Charles to sort out his issues and finally find his peace.

So, yeah. Hi, everyone. Took me long enough. In my defense, I initially intended to post it all at once, but—as it keeps happening to me lately—the story has gradually become longer and longer, so, in the end, I decided to divide it into four parts. I hope you’ll enjoy it. I tried to explore Charles’s state of mind more, because I doubt he was completely alright at the end of XMDP. As always, it’s proof-read and not beta-ed. So, I’d be grateful for any and all comments. The title comes from the song Where We Come Alive by Ruelle. The name of the café comes from this post by @miss-melodypond, because I couldn’t help myself.

Part 1

You love someone, you open yourself up to suffering, that’s the sad truth. Maybe they’ll break your heart, maybe you’ll break their heart and never be able to look at yourself in the same way. Those are the risks. That’s the burden.

Like wings, they have weight, we feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us. Burdens that make us better than we are.

Burdens which allow us to fly… 

—Bones, season 4, episode 26

The Old Friends Café is a truly pleasant spot, which Charles has quickly taken a liking to, what with its accessible location and tasty treats. He’s been coming here almost every morning since he arrived to the neighbourhood. Thanks to the mild weather, he could sit outside and observe pedestrians rushing in various directions, the soft hum of their thoughts surrounding his mind and drowning out any bleak images overflowing from his subconscious.

It has become a sort of a ritual of his, a morning coffee among passing people who have no idea who he really is. Quite refreshing, to blend in without the need to use his ability. That’s one of the reasons why he decided to leave the US and head somewhere else. Perhaps it was in an attempt to run away from the past, from his mistakes; to run away from what he is. As futile as that running fundamentally is, Charles finds himself strangely content, lost in the bustle and vibrancy of the City of Lights.

He tries to smile when a waitress places his coffee in front of him, but part of him knows that this smile is just a shadow of what it once was. Despite his great efforts, he cannot muster enough enthusiasm to radiate joy like he used to; he simply lacks energy for that these days. Even the usual politeness of his tone sounds off to his ears, as if an ill-fitting mask started to slowly slip down his face.

It is truly ironic, how what made him the Professor in the first place—his focus on others, on their well-being, his compassion and how tuned in he tries to be to everyone’s feelings but his own—has essentially become his greatest downfall. He’s come too far, flew too close to the sun, and paid the price for it, greater than he could ever imagine.

The memory of the colourful flowers scattered on the freshly turned earth, bathed in the unrelenting cold rain, is as vivid as if he was still looking down at what was left of one of the people he cherished the most—his sister whom he thought he had got back, only to lose her yet again, long before wooden splinters could even slice through her chest. Even so, it isn’t only her death that has broken his heart, shattering it into a million small pieces.

Charles looks down at the cracked, uneven pavement, not even fighting the urge to compare it to his pathetic emotional state. Although he finds his mind constantly drifting in every feasible direction, a muffled, yet relentlessly suffocating sense of guilt is always colouring even the most idle of his thoughts nowadays. After all, it was his fault that they lost Raven, what with his recklessly desperate attempt to prove to his sister that he respects and trusts her opinion. It was his fault that Jean started wreaking havoc, his actions bringing her to her breaking point and his efforts to help her only making things worse. It was his fault that Hank left, feeling raw, wronged, and seeking vengeance. It was his fault that he didn’t notice those soldiers earlier, too occupied with Jean to realise he should find a way to stop them from capturing all the mutants.

None of that would’ve happened if it hadn’t been for him.

That was why he left. He was tired after years of keeping the school going, surely, and after the fiasco in New York his reputation has been tarnished forever, yet those reasons alone wouldn’t have stopped him from staying with his family, if only he was able to look them in the eye. He couldn’t do that, not with the knowledge that it was him who tore this family apart.

His departure from the mansion was rather unceremonious, as if he were leaving only for short holidays rather than retiring completely. Many students bid him goodbye, unaware that they probably won’t see him again in a very long time. It pained him terribly to leave the children who had grown on him so much over the years, yet, as egotistical as it might’ve been, he didn’t have the heart to admit to them that what he was actually doing was running away.

Even Hank, though their relationship has still been a little strained ever since the Jean Grey incident, tried to talk him out of the retirement idea, honoured with Charles’s wish for the scientist to become the new headmaster, but rather unwilling to take his place. It took Charles a while to convince Hank, but he just couldn’t bear it anymore. Looking at Scott trailing forlornly around the mansion, at Ororo trying to keep the team together and step into Raven’s shoes, at Peter doing his best to bring Kurt’s humour back, at the children’s enthusiasm remaining somewhat subdued after the threat of the school being shut down; it was all too much for him, the relentless whispers flooding his mind and only amplifying the grief-fueled darkness lurking in its corners.

Hank eventually relented, although he insisted on driving Charles to the airport after he unsuccessfully tried to fish out from the telepath where he intended to go. Despite Hank’s good intentions, born purely out of concern for him, Charles couldn’t afford anyone knowing his destination, foolishly so, perhaps. Not much of him has remained in the mansion, and that is precisely what he wanted, with the school having the name changed and being under the new management. He even briefly considered altering everyone’s memories, so they would have hardly any recollection of him; he decided against it in the end, however. Nevertheless, it hasn’t made him feel less of a coward, roaming the busy streets of Paris in an attempt to fade into the background, to become nothing more than another nameless face in the crowd.

In the aftermath of the Jean Grey incident, it initially seemed that the mutant cause was lost, but they somehow managed to sway the government from taking any drastic measures, what with the main threat being “neutralised.” The damage to the mutant perception in the eyes of the general public has been done, however, and although many haven’t supported the idea of the mutant confinement centres, the discourse has quickly become exceedingly mutantphobic.

There’s a bit less hostility in Western Europe, as there has been no incidents here, which doesn’t mean, though, that people are not fearful. Therefore, it is the most reasonable not to attract any attention, even if the vicious voice at the back of Charles’s mind mocks him for hiding. It isn’t the world he’s fought for, but it’s the one he wakes up to in the wake of his mistakes.

With his jaw set firmly, Charles eventually reaches for the cup. He’s come here to forget, not to dwell on what is left of his aching heart, so these thoughts are really of no use to him. He reigns them in, perhaps for the thousandth time, his gaze boring into the smooth, dark surface of his coffee. However, before he manages to do as much as raise the cup to his lips, he feels something, a small, familiar tendril of thought.

A presence which he isn’t sure he’d like to feel right now.

For a moment, he can’t help but entertain the idea that maybe it’s just an illusion, conceived in the depths of his lonely mind. It wouldn’t bode any good for his sanity, and yet Charles would rather not face the possibility that Erik is indeed here. Although they didn’t part on particularly bad terms, their history having seen much more hostile farewells than that one, their relationship just isn’t what it used to be, even though after everything that happened, Erik has appeared to be less distant and perhaps even willing to rekindle their friendship.

What a twist of fate that it was Charles this time who shied away from this connection. It seems, though, that Erik is more unrelenting than the telepath expected.

Charles braces himself, unable to stop a sigh from escaping his lips. His body is tense as he watches Erik pass him and walk casually toward the other chair at the table. He places a folded chessboard on the ground before he sits, while Charles puts the cup away, pulling a saucer a bit closer to himself.

Erik seems to be quite relaxed, looking more put together than in the aftermath of the battle, when they saw each other for the last time. There’s a small smile curling on his lips as he asks, “How’s your retirement treating you?”

So different is Erik’s demeanor from the coldness that Charles has come to associate with him, that the telepath cannot stop suspiciousness from blooming in his mind. It doesn’t seem right, to see Erik so calm—so serene—when Charles feels like his own mind resembles one huge beehive. There’s only one way to confirm his suspicions, to see if what Charles interpretes as blissful indifference isn’t in actuality a completely different emotion, but he refuses to go anywhere near Erik’s mind, even if it leaves him at a significant disadvantage. 

“What are you doing here, Erik?,” he says instead of acknowledging the man’s question, not bothering with any pleasantries, not even trying to hide his reluctance.

His clipped tone does little to deter Erik, however. “I came to see an old friend,” he answers simply, his eyes trained on Charles’s face thoughtfully. Charles tilts his head, but doesn’t say anything, which Erik apparently takes as a cue to continue. “Fancy a game?,” he offers briskly, glancing down at the chessboard next to his leg.

Charles follows his gaze, and then crosses his arms, leaning slightly away. Normally, he would never say no to a chess match, especially with as challenging an opponent as Erik can sometimes be, but he doubts his game would be any good now, what with the whirlwind of not only his own, but also all the other people’s thoughts threatening to consume him.

“Not today, thank you.” A meagre sad smile crosses Charles’s lips and he looks away, his stare once again fixated on the pavement.

Despite his greatest efforts, however, he cannot simply ignore Erik’s presence, not when it brushes against the edges of his mind, surprisingly comforting in its tranquillity. Charles barely suppresses the urge to dive inside, to drown in Erik’s consciousness and forget about everything else, so he quickly strengthens his shields.

He can see out of the corner of his eye how Erik leans in, resting his elbows on the table. He’s thoughtful for a little while, before he looks up at Charles once again.

“Long time ago, you saved my life and you offered me home,” he says firmly, and Charles can’t stop himself from glancing back at him, utterly taken aback by the sudden change of topic. “I’d like to do the same for you.”

Erik’s expression is wary, but earnest, and Charles catches himself sifting fleetingly through the man’s surface thoughts, which seems to confirm the genuineness of his words. All the while his eyes are trained on Charles’s face, not leaving it for even a second. Even though being a subject of Erik’s undivided attention used to excite him beyond compare back in the day, now that piercing gaze feels nothing but overwhelming, as if Erik could see his very soul and notice all the darkness lurking in his heart. Charles cannot stand it, he has to look away.

This is exactly why he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see him. Charles doesn’t seem to have been particularly good with people lately, not that he ever actually was. It’s easy to smile to a stranger, to offer a helping hand to someone who looks up to you, but looking in the eyes of those close to him and seeing his true reflection—an overconfident egomaniac, convinced that he has the higher moral ground and is the only one who can make the world a better place, who’s in reality nothing more than a lost little boy, seeking validation and love from others—is at times simply too painful. No wonder he has struggled with getting closer to others, and even if he managed, they always ended up seeing through his poise and leaving him sooner or later. Not that he holds it against them; he would leave himself, too.

Seemingly unaware of Charles’s turmoil, Erik reaches into his pockets. After a moment, he pulls his hands out, clenched into fists, and lifts them in the air, leaning in, resting his elbows back on the table.

“Just one game,” he asks good-naturedly, and his lips slowly form an encouraging smile. “For old times’ sake.”

Hunched slightly over, Charles has to look up to face him. Why Erik is so insistent escapes his comprehension, but there is no harsh judgement nor bitter disappointment which Charles expected to see in those bright mesmerising eyes—nothing but a bit exasperated affection.

That’s not the way it should be. It has always been Charles who’s tried to help Erik find peace, to help him become a better person. And now that they’re sitting at the small Parisian café, it is Charles who’s struggling to find it in himself not to run. After all, he knows what he is, and what he is isn’t worth all that trouble.

And yet there’s something so pleasant about Erik’s mind, almost welcoming, even if all Charles feels is just its very surface, that the telepath cannot pull away. He wants to say no, to ignore Erik long enough for the man to leave, but he eventually relents, slowly reaching and tapping Erik’s left hand. He quickly withdraws, though, despite pleasant tingling in his fingertips that just a quick brush over Erik’s skin has evoked.

Erik smiles, with an excited glint in his eyes, and spins his hand. He slowly unwraps his fingers, revealing a single white pawn.

Charles’s colour.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Erik assures as soon as Charles has snatched the pawn out of his hand, even though his voice sounds rather mischievous.

Even if you come in, Charles hears, clear as day, and it cannot not be a projection. For a split second, he thinks that maybe he’s just overheard something he’s not supposed to, but he’s been shielding himself from Erik ever since he sensed him, so it must’ve been Erik’s intention for Charles to hear it. Something pangs in his heart, even though Charles is too miserable to get his hopes up, to see it as anything more than just teasing.

But his hope has never needed much to spring back to life.

A small smile spreads on Charles’s lips almost on its own accord. “No, you won’t,” he says, a bit of cheer returning to his voice, and continues in their thoughts, Even if I come in.

Erik grins at him, his eyes warm, and he looks so unguarded—so delightfully open—that Charles’s heart skips a beat. It hits him in this moment that no matter how many decades have passed, how many wrinkles have started to adorn Erik’s face, how many of his hair have already turned to grey, he continues to be as beautiful as he was on the day they met, in the cold Atlantic waters thirty years ago, if not even more so. Charles cannot help but try to mirror Erik’s smile, his stomach twisting into knots. He never expected that he would feel like this again, giddy and excited, flushed with the intensity of Erik’s gaze as his companion doesn’t seem to be able to look away from him, so it is Charles who averts his eyes first.

Erik sets up the board swiftly, his deft fingers placing meticulously all the pieces in their proper places. Charles follows them, mesmerised by the grace of even the smallest of movements. He is used to seeing Erik do that with nothing more than a gentle wave of his hand, but he has brought a wooden set and is forced to set up the game in a more traditional way. They don’t draw unnecessary attention to themselves this way, at least, and Charles appreciates that.

Even so, he cannot help but feel the bitterness seeping into his heart. There would be no need for hiding in the world he once hoped to build, but the dream has been shattered. Much as he loathes himself for this, he cannot refrain from wondering that perhaps prioritising trying to gain the humans’ approval over keeping the mutants he was supposed to take care of safe was never the proper course of action; that he should’ve focused on the school, not his political ambitions. But what is done is done, and all that Charles is left with is the bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach that Raven was right all along.

After all, he did sacrifice his team—his family—for the cause which seemed to be less about mutants and more about building his own public persona. Clearly, he lost his touch so thoroughly that he has become what he had once stood so strongly against—a politician focused solely on his own success rather than people he was supposed to serve. It was bound to end in disaster. So many years devoted to the mutant cause, and all of them wasted because of his own vanity and the fantasy of mutants becoming the heroes of humanity.

To think that it might have been different if only he had been less stubborn, not as lost in the vision of the world which was as idealistic as it was impossible to achieve. Perhaps, had there not been a division between the mutants, their efforts could have brought much better results. Maybe Erik was right, and that rupture was meant to weaken them, as it has quite clearly done so.

Leaning away from the board, Erik gives Charles a quizzical look. Even though he isn’t the one with telepathic abilities, he stares at Charles as if he knew exactly what the telepath is thinking. Perhaps he does; perhaps he has similar regrets, Charles muses, still determinedly blocking out Erik’s thoughts. They both wanted to make the world a better place for mutants, even if using drastically different methods, and all of it has been for naught.

Perhaps not all—there is still Genosha which seems to function better than Charles suspected. It may not be a mutant utopia yet, as his friend certainly wanted it to be, but it does provide mutants with the place where they can live free of persecution, given a chance to create their own system. He even remembers a couple of his students with more visible or not so easily reined in mutations choosing to move there after their graduation, something that should go against his goal of mutant-human integration, but deep down Charles felt relief every time one of them found a safe home in Genosha. Erik might’ve had a point while insisting on the separation between mutants and baseline humans, after all.

A quiet snort escapes Charles’s nose, and Erik raises his eyebrows, a corner of his lips rising in a lopsided smile as he asks, “Something’s funny?”

Charles studies Erik for a long moment, his gaze tracing wrinkles which replaced the lines once almost permanently running across his friend’s face. Now, though, despite the years, Erik almost looks younger, his eyes bright and his expression serene, and Charles thinks that he’s falling for him all over again, enticed by the soft humming of Erik’s thoughts, its pull akin to the strength of the magnetic force that the fascinating man before can bend to his will.

“Nothing, just…” Charles sighs and pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way of putting into words a strange paradoxical feeling. He cannot refrain from snorting again as he shakes his head. “I didn’t expect that we would swap places,” he admits at last, an edge of humour to his voice.

“Life’s full of surprises,” Erik murmurs, with smugness written all over his face.

The chessboard momentarily becomes forgotten as Erik holds Charles’s gaze, his eyes flicking to the telepath’s mouth every now and then. Were they alone, in a more secluded place, Charles wouldn’t probably stop himself from reaching out to Erik, but—as it happens—they sit in a public space where any more intimate gestures might be as frowned upon as a display of their abilities.

Charles could just make everyone else look away or think that something completely different is happening, he knows that. Part of him is tempted to do so, yet he doesn’t feel like meddling with all those minds, unsure of how his erratic emotions impact his control; whether he’d be able to draw the line before hurting somebody. Maybe it’s for the better; he’s not sure if he’s actually ready for anything to happen just yet.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Charles says instead, his voice soft, surprising even himself with how blunt his words are.

Perhaps he’s too old and too tired to hide his vulnerability anymore. Perhaps, despite him running away, he doesn’t actually want to be alone. Wallowing in self pity and letting himself be consumed by his pent-up emotions certainly won’t solve anything, he’s perfectly aware of that, and yet, it’s not that easy for him to pull himself out of that dark place. But Erik is here, offering to throw him a lifeline to which Charles so desperately wants to cling.

For a moment, he is afraid of Erik’s reaction, of his possible ridicule of such sappiness, yet Erik only smiles tenderly, and the wave of fondness encompassing at once Charles’s thoughts makes it clear that he must share the sentiment. Once again, Charles finds it hard to shake off the feeling that the scene playing out before his very eyes isn’t real; that he’ll soon wake up, alone in his bed, hating his mind for conjuring images of what he’s always wanted, but will never have. After all, the Erik before him is nothing like the man who left him over and over again, not with the serenity which is practically pouring off of him.

His mind, however, has the achingly familiar tinge to it that Charles isn’t sure he could so easily recreate, not even with the help of his rather remarkable memory. Yet again, the telepath has to suppress the urge to plunge into Erik’s thoughts and allow them to wash over his troubled psyche. It’s almost painful to hold himself back; even so, Charles cannot quell the fear that his presence won’t be welcome. After all, nobody wants a telepath rummaging through their heads.

His throat feels suddenly dry as Charles tries to clear it, his gaze boring into the chess board. Despite his doubts, if Erik’s projection is anything to go by, it seems that he could’ve tried to prompt Charles to do something. Perhaps it does sound too good to be true, but Charles has to ask.

“Could I?”

There’s a swell of mild surprise on the surface of Erik’s mind when he says calmly, “Could you what?”

Charles looks back up at him and finds Erik gazing at him curiously. Although there’s a hint of a smile in the corners of his lips, Charles hesitates. Part of him knows that what he’s about to ask is quite a lot, probably more than he deserves after everything that he’s done. But he cannot help himself.

“Could I—,” he hesitates momentarily, with his heart practically in his throat, “—come in?”

Charles struggles not to drop his gaze, as the world around him seems to have come to a halt. It surprises him how desperate he is to sink into Erik’s mind, even though he hasn’t done so in a terribly long time, and waiting for his friend’s reaction only makes him jittery. What’s worse, Erik keeps a straight face, and the surface of his thoughts brushes against Charles’s calmly, doing very little to help the telepath gauge his friend’s reaction.

Some of Charles’s desperation must be evident in his look—or it could’ve been his voice—because Erik’s expression softens, and he glances down at the chessboard.

“Your move,” he says casually, as if Charles hasn’t just asked him about something as intimate as opening a mental link between them.

The telepath tries to hide his disappointment, clearing his once again awfully dry throat. He shouldn’t be suffering from such disenchantment, not after his gift has been routinely rejected throughout the vast majority of his life. After all, people generally value their privacy quite highly, and Charles really understands that, even though he himself would give anything not to be alone in his own head at the moment.

Scarcely does he have a chance to slip back into the thick darkness of his mind, however, before he feels the deliberate caress of a thought against his consciousness. Another projection, but much gentler than before. You can if you’d like.

Charles finds himself blinking again, and the question escapes his mouth before he can do as much as consciously register asking it, his voice small and vulnerable, “You don’t mind?”

Erik’s gaze is on him again, although this time there is a flicker of something else in those kaleidoscopic eyes, greenish in the warm light of day, something much less peaceful. Regrettably, the odd ripple on the surface of Erik’s mind is gone too fast for Charles to put a finger on what his friend might feel, as Erik takes a deep breath, the playful smile back on his lips.

“I know you won’t cheat, you’re too bloody arrogant for that,” he says teasingly, though there is no actual bite to his words.

Charles doesn’t know if he’s more relieved that Erik seems to be genuinely unbothered by the prospect of Charles’s presence in his mind, or affronted by the suggestion that the only reason why he wouldn’t go as far as to cheat during their always wonderfully engaging games of chess is all due to his arrogance. In the end, his relief wins over, what with the familiar mischievous glint in Erik’s eyes.

“I simply happen to have a moral code, thank you very much,” Charles argues, even though his tone lacks any actual disdain, his hand hovering over the board. He ponders for a moment how he should start this time, and ends up picking the pawn before his queen. With his fingers wrapped around it, he continues, his voice matter-of-fact, “And I find that cheating essentially kills the purpose of the game. After all, it’s hardly any mental challenge to just take a peek into your mind to foresee your intention and adjust my strategy accordingly—”

Even though he quickly realises that he’s started mumbling, it is a gentle touch of Erik’s fingertips to the top of his still extended hand that puts him out of his reverie.

“Charles.” Erik’s voice is tender, yet unyielding. “You can read my mind.”

Despite the reassurance, Charles hesitates, which clearly doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I’d like you to,” Erik adds firmly, his fingers slowly starting to draw comforting patterns over Charles’ dry skin.

As little as it is, this amount of physical contact is enough to make shielding from Erik that much more of a bother, so Charles eventually just lets go, his consciousness instantly washed over with Erik’s thoughts. They are as serene as Charles expected, but there is also a different tinge to them, one that he didn’t really pick up on before.

Affection.

He’s barely able to compose himself enough not to let out a quiet whimper. It’s been ages since he felt anything remotely resembling this; Raven didn’t really allow him into her mind, even when their relationship was much less strained, and with Hank it’s been a different kind of companionship, one that has never included that kind of affection. That has been the void that even the children couldn’t fill, not with their respect and admiration, and even though he loved them—and still does—very dearly, being the authority figure for young minds has always put him in the position hardly allowing for forming equal connections, even when they grew up.

And to think that those are just surface thoughts… Although he’s well aware that he probably shouldn’t be doing that and most certainly will come to regret it later, he feels his mind plunging deep into Erik’s, flowing through the beautiful buzzing stream of consciousness. It won’t last long, Charles is sure of that, so he sets his mind to enjoy that while he still can, before Erik changes his mind and forces him out.

Instead of this anticipated withdrawal of Erik’s consent, Charles is once again met with a playful smile. “Want to know everything all over again?”

Charles can’t help but wince, even though the question hasn’t got any accusatory undertone whatsoever. Despite that, he’s quick to start withdrawing, his thoughts curling tightly around themselves. He hasn’t invaded another person’s mind like that in years, and he has no idea what’s overcome him to act so recklessly, unmindful of Erik’s boundaries.

“Don’t,” Erik says warningly, stopping Charles in his tracks.

He squeezes the telepath’s hand reassuringly, and even though he promptly lets go, his touch lingers, leaving the pleasant tingling sensation in its wake. Charles swallows, his mind still surrounded by Erik’s calming thoughts.

That is the moment he feels it for the first time, something relatively new in the mind that he once was so familiar with. A cool, metal-like surface, of which the tendrils of his ability slid off smoothly, feels as foreign as it is fascinating, and it can only be one thing.

“Shields?,” Charles finds himself asking incredulously.

The mischievous look is back in Erik’s eyes. “I had some practice,” he admits cheekily, though his thoughts get a slightly melancholy tinge that he is clearly struggling to hide.

Charles can’t do much more than stare at his friend. “I—”

“It’s easier for you this way, isn’t it?,” Erik observes lightly, his eyes back on the chessboard as he makes his move. “If there’s something I’d rather you didn’t see, I can take care of that myself.” He once again gazes at Charles, the smile still on his lips. “Other than that, you’re free to rummage around.”

It is difficult to even describe the feelings that one sentence evokes in Charles. It seems like the whole world around him has suddenly brightened, filled with the warmth that Charles has clearly been missing. Rarely has he been given such an explicit permission, a wish even, to allow his telepathy to run free, unchecked and unbound. It’s truly exhilarating, how it feels to let his mind wander aimlessly in the space where he’s very much welcome.

“That is…” Charles’s voice is rough, his throat weirdly constricted in his elation. He soldiers on, however, not minding it that much—the need to express his overwhelming gratitude is much stronger than his self-consciousness. “Thank you, my friend,” he says with a watery smile, reaching across the table to cover Erik’s hand with his own. “It means a lot.”

The softness is back on Erik’s face, his thoughts brushing tenderly against Charles’s, and as surprising as it was for Charles to feel it just moments ago, it slowly becomes a familiar—and very much cherished—sensation. “I know,” Erik murmurs, focusing again on the chessboard.

The game is rather unhurried after that, not that Charles minds. It’s actually a very pleasant reprieve from the mundaneness of his recent routine, and Charles finds himself more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, even before the incident. It feels very nice to stretch his mental muscles while coming up with the suitable strategy, even if his whole heart isn’t exactly in the game.

They are slowly making progress, at first chatting idly about things of little importance, such as the charm of early summer, even in the city as frequently bathed in pouring rains as Paris. There is an undercurrent of worry to Erik’s thoughts, even if he doesn’t voice it, and Charles can tell that he’s not the only one avoiding some more sensitive topics. Instead, they focus mostly on Charles’s stay in the City of Lights so far, the struggles of daily life in Genosha, and the atmosphere at the mansion when it turns out that Erik has recently pay the school a visit. It surprises Charles, but not altogether unpleasantly; after all, it is a good thing that Erik seems to be on good terms with Hank now, even if the circumstances leading to that were rather unfortunate.

Despite the concern swirling somewhere deeper in Erik’s mind, the man keeps steering away from the questions that are clearly pestering him. Charles is grateful for that because he isn’t sure how he would explain what is going on inside his head.

Rather than tackling those topics, the telepath allows his mind to drift, floating freely through Erik’s thoughts. Surrounded by calmness and affection, Charles realizes with a start that he feels at peace for the first time in years. It isn’t until now that he notices how much he was missing that feeling.

Unfortunately, Charles doesn’t get to enjoy that feeling for long. He is about to make his next move when a thought comes to the forefront of his mind—one that demands an explanation for something that has been bugging him distantly for quite a while now. He looks up from the board in time to see Erik’s eyebrows furrowing as he’s observing the progress of their game. The board is already lined up with a bunch of the pieces, both black and white, but the real struggle is only about to begin.

There’s something truly endearing in Erik’s focused expression, in the way his eyebrows are drawn and his eyes flicker about the board with a playful glint, and Charles is pretty certain that the affection must be written all over his face. As much as he wasn’t actually aware of that, he’s been missing this sight deeply. This, and the simple, yet undeniable pleasure of the companionable game of chess.

And yet, the question of the real reason behind Erik sitting at his table right now brings his hopes back down.

“I doubt you came all this way just for a chess match,” Charles says, still smiling lightly, even if his voice comes out a bit strained.

The telepath’s attention is yet again on the board, though his thoughts have already drifted away from strategising. He can’t see Erik’s face, but he feels his intense gaze.

“You’d be surprised,” comes Erik’s quiet answer, which nevertheless manages to take Charles aback with its fervency.

It is still rather unlikely that Erik has travelled across the world solely to play one game, which leaves Charles with a couple of explanations to consider.

“Are you meeting somebody?”

Erik keeps studying him for a long moment, before he finally decides to answer.

“No.”

There is yet another possibility, since Erik has mentioned swinging by the mansion. “Did Hank send you?”

Charles’s question hangs in the air for a long moment. The telepath can feel the myriad of thoughts swirling in Erik’s mind as the man tries to figure out what would be an appropriate answer. Hardly comforting, Charles thinks distantly.

“He did say that you’d probably use some company,” Erik eventually admits, caressing a white pawn in his hand thoughtfully, one that he’s just picked up from the board. “But I don’t think he believed that I’d bother to find you.”

“But you did.”

Erik’s attention snaps back to Charles, his thoughts sharpening, his gaze wary. “Clearly.”

“Why?” Charles barely suppresses the urge to look away, afraid of being too much of a bother with all those questions, but he has to know what hides behind Erik’s carefully dispassionate tone.

The waitress chooses that moment to walk up to them, a questioning look on her face. She’s about to ask a question, her thoughts brightening with mild interest at the appearance of an earlier unseen man at the otherwise rather lonely table. She doesn’t get a chance to, however, when Erik simply shakes his head, giving her a polite smile. In the end, she rushes past them, to another table, greeting another guest.

“Why do you think?” Erik asks, and the waitress is soon forgotten.

Erik’s thoughts continue to be calm, gently lapping against Charles’s mind, and yet the telepath doesn’t fail to notice a shade of worry which colours them. It should be reassuring, he thinks briefly, that somebody still cares about his well-being, more so than he does himself. Somehow, though, it only triggers the anger that lurks deep in his thoughts. Perhaps it’s his pride, feeling wounded at the suggestion that he, Dr. Charles Francis Xavier, the honoured professor of genetics and the creator of the first school for mutants, might need rescuing. Perhaps it’s seeing Erik’s concern as patronizing. Or perhaps he simply doesn’t deem himself worthy of it.

Whatever the reason, Charles cannot stop himself from snapping, “I don’t need help, I’m fine.”

Despite Charles’s sharp voice, Erik doesn’t do as much as flinch, seemingly unbothered by the man’s harsh reaction. His fingernails are drumming against the table as he goes back to contemplating the advancement of their game.

Eventually, Erik decides to speak up. “Charles,” he starts slowly, his voice calm, almost soothing, “you come here every morning, order one black coffee and sit, sometimes for an hour, hour and a half, just idly looking around.”

Erik’s tone isn’t accusatory, he merely states the facts, and yet Charles cannot help but feel a burning stab of shame, as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t allowed to. It’s ridiculous; he’s an adult, he can do whatever he pleases, and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a morning coffee and revelling in the pleasant surroundings.

Even so, Charles catches himself continuously being defensive as he asks, “How did you know?”

“I’m observant,” Erik says simply, finally making his next move, one of the corners of his lips curling up slightly.

Charles takes a deep breath, hoping to clear his upset mind somewhat. Getting angry doesn’t serve anyone, and neither does it help in finding out the real reason behind Erik’s visit. Charles could just pluck it out of his friend’s mind, but the mere thought of it fills him with a sense of self-disgust.

“I’m just… taking a breather, I suppose,” he allows, reaching to the chessboard. “Enjoying my retirement,” he adds, more of an afterthought than anything else. 

“That’s what I came to see.”

A grimace crosses Charles’s face. “There isn’t much to see, as you’ve noticed.” His voice is as tight as it is bitter.

“Still worth it,” Erik says firmly. “Especially when I can do this.” His hand hovers above the board for a moment, a quick move of one innocent piece, and when the man pulls it back, it doesn’t take Charles more than a quick glance to know that he’s just lost. “Checkmate. I warned you.” There’s pride, glistening in Erik’s eyes, but his thoughts lack an undercurrent of boastfulness which tends to be sparked off by Erik’s victories.

Nevertheless, Charles purses his lips, deeply unsatisfied, even though he hardly expected any other outcome. “I’d like a rematch, if you don’t mind.”

“Let me take you to lunch first.” Although Erik’s proposition is rather nonchalant, seemingly unprompted, there is a sense of nervousness creeping in his thoughts.

As if he was hoping to ask, but dreaded that Charles would refuse. But Charles finds himself unable to turn down the offer, in spite of the strong desire to bid Erik goodbye and continue on with his mundane day. 

Charles clears his throat, reminding himself that he only agreed to one game. There is no need for him to entertain Erik, to keep him company when all he wants to do is hide somewhere where he’d be alone, preferably in his Parisian flat, yet he finds himself thinking that maybe this is what he needs right now, a little bit of comfort, and he smiles, a small, but genuine curl of his lips, for what feels like the first time in weeks. 

“Actually, lunch sounds lovely.”