#also re: me literally saying i felt like a child because i explicitely wanted to draw attention to our age difference

[universitypenguin]

What happened to u? U okay?

Hello!

First off, thank you for your concern. I appreciate it and I needed it after the past two days. To answer your question - I'm doing great.

I don’t have a lot of context about your question, but I’m guessing your concern is due to my recent blocking spree. A day ago, I went through my followers list and found some minors. I’ve previously seen smut fanfic writers concerned by underage people interacting with their posts. Until I had to block a few of them, I wasn’t aware how uncomfortable it would make me feel.

Since the blocking spree, I've had a lot of thoughts. I'm about to spew them everywhere. You might regret asking me if I was okay. Sorry about that. No one needs to read this whole manifesto about my rollercoaster of emotions the past few days. But in the interest of transparency, I'm posting this very long note.

What I want my readers to know is the following:

Tumblr is both a place for fanfiction and a social media site.

When I interact with followers and write explicit content, I have to be careful about what I'm saying and who I'm saying it to.

I don't intend to block or purge my followers in the future.

As long as I appropriately tag and put warnings on my work, that is adequate protection for my blog. Everything I write containing explicit content is tagged.

However, I won't interact with users who don't have an age stated in their bio.

There have to be boundaries, given the content of my writing. But I've also come around to the realization that I'm not capable of policing every interaction. Tumblr is a public forum. Minors following me makes me uncomfortable. But by the same token, my work is clearly labeled at 18+ and so is my blog.

There's a lot of explicit content out there for minors if you really think about it. In my high school freshman English class we talked about the book "The Color Purple." Believe me, that was explicit and we were only 14. Any minor with a library card and a Google browser can access a lot more intense content than what I write. I hope they're all being safe, but I can't have a melt down blocking spree again.

I'm not a cop, I'm not a parent, and what minors consume is down to them and the adult responsible for them. If I know someone is a minor I'll block them, should I notice they're trying to interact with me. Otherwise, I'm not purging my followers ever again. It's too much drama. I'd rather leave Tumblr than do that twice. I'm tired and I'm starting to work on my post graduate classes, I work full time in a demanding job, I'm in the process of editing my novel, and trying to keep up with my personal life. Quite literally, I don't have time to block. Writing fanfic is supposed to be my fun time. Let's keep it that way.

Due to the fact that some people I blocked were later unblocked after I took a closer look at their blogs, I'm posting a full explanation below. A quick summary is this:

After only writing for three months, I'd amassed 500 followers. On Monday I blocked almost 200 of them. Then I reviewed my block list and editing down some people who were prematurely blocked. [I assume the anon is one of the unblocked who had me disappear from their dash. Sorry!] This blocking thing isn't sustainable. In the future I'll run my blog differently as far as interaction goes in an effort to be responsible.

Continue reading for the saga of:

The Great Blocking Spree and Existential Crisis of an Erotic Fanfic Writer.

The Blocking Spree:

On Monday I realized a thirteen year old was following me and interacting with my work. This creeped me out.

*Commence blocking spree*

Then I realized how daunting my followers list was. I had 500 followers prior to Monday. That day I blocked about 200 people (some of them prematurely - more on that later.) So after the daunting task of trying to assume, to check bios for ages, to review blog content and determine the user's age, I was tired. Today, I even took a moment to reconsider if I wanted to use Tumblr. Because if all this is my responsibility, maybe I don't have the time or dedication to manage it. When I can be chill, I try to be. This attitude also affected by blocking. It contributed to me unblocking people. When I was doing the blocking spree, I'd give people with no age in their bio a fair shot by reviewing their posts.

I blocked some bot accounts, then a bunch of blank blogs, some ambiguous people who very well could be of age. For the first 100 followers I was pretty aggressive. Then my attention span dropped off and I was a bit more ambivalent. I realized I was doing a crappy job of moderating and wondered what the point was.

The point was that the thirteen year old interacting with my work freaked me out. When I found two sixteen year old followers, it pushed me to continue the purge.

So on I go, blocking. I'm so responsible for doing this, right? But my methodology is crap. What is context for being an adult? Someone had posted about budgeting advice. I thought the budgeting advice was too good for it not to have come from an adult. But my father's a financial advisor and to be honest, I could have given that level of advice at fifteen just from osmosis. Someone had pictures of themselves entering their marijuana plants in the Oregon State Fair. Okay, you've got to be over 18. I didn't block them. Someone else complained about their stats professor and I didn't block them. But in retrospect, one of my high school friends got permission to take college level math courses when we were seniors. She was seventeen when she had a stats professor. The thought circles back - what am I accomplishing here? Next, I went back and unblocked someone who ranted about her Tinder matches being 60 year old men. I wondered if their post was even real. I've lied on the internet before. Nonetheless, I persisted and worked through all 500 followers. When I was done I had 312 followers left.

Post Blocking Spree Existential Crisis:

I know that all the blocking in the world can't stop a teenager who wants to read smut fanfic. I'm not much for posting on social media and I'm not used to a lot of anonymous interaction online. Honestly, I got rid of my SM accounts during college when I felt it was wasting my time. This is the first time I've really use a social media site to post content since college. My twitter account is unused, my Instagram is for close personal friends only, and my TikTok is for mindless consumption of cat videos. (I've trained the algorithm to feed me only cat videos, it's great and I highly recommend it.) I don't post on TikTok, so I don't consider it full use, just lurking.

Okay, Alice, get back to the point....

Right, being anonymous on social media. My blocks are a fence and it's based on self identification from the blogs that follow me. I have little faith in underage consumers to out themselves. I have even less faith in their honesty or respect for an adult's boundaries. They're at a stage in life where they want to push the boundaries. Telling them no is all but inviting them in. I did my blocking spree because I was worried about backlash from someone's parents. But what reasonable judge would come after a fanfic writer? Come on. Logical thoughts but me emotional distress was still brewing.

Why I am the one responsible for who clicks the follow button on my blog? I've always clearly identified what I write and tagged my work as smut.

That thought snapped me out of my whirlwind of anxious thoughts. So I started looking into the laws. My regular work involves medicine, not the legal profession, so I was lost. I found some state level laws that made me glad I'd gone on a blocking spree. California and Florida have specific language in their laws about 'providing minors with explicit content.' But what exactly is that? What I researched applied to the following activities: co-writing smut fanfic with other people, sexting, roleplaying and online messaging.

I run a fanfic blog with limited interaction. I've never done an ask. I don't roleplay on here and I don't want to.

The blocks weren't personal. They were partly based on the awareness that Tumblr is an interactive site and a place that's had a problem with child pornography in the past. But I'm not the smut police. I suck at blocking, and I doubt I did a good job of purging my followers list. This is when it hit me that boundaries are only what I can enforce. They've never been about how other people relate to me, only how I relate to them. (Wow. I've never sounded more like my mother in my life...) After this thought, I started considering what actions I ought to take if I wanted to keep posting fanfic on Tumblr.

My Post Blocking Spree Clarity...

It's up to me who I interact with. I don't have to reply to every comment and re-blog, but I'd like to. I'm stuck between wanting to write for everyone and handling interactions on a social media site that's mostly anonymous.

The fact remains: I can't be the smut police because I suck at it.

What I've decided is that I'll make it very clear on my blog that this is an 18+ space where I publish erotic fanfiction. Smut will always be appropriately marked. I'm not going to interact with reviews, re-blogs, and messages from accounts who don't have their age in their profile. I won't include them in my tag list either. The internet is a public forum. Just as with publishing erotica, once it's out there online for download, it's done. As a ghost writer and an author, I don't control who buys my original fiction, which is just as spicy as my fanfiction. (Trust me, it's explicit. I once had a romance editor tell me I should dial it back on the smutty parts of a novel because "it's a lot of sex for a non-erotica market.") The key difference on Tumblr is about interaction. And that's something I can control. I can decide when I reply to other users. What brought me around to this was the realization that even after the blocking spree, I can't review every single like I get. That's an amount of time and mental energy that's beyond me. Just the past two days have been exhausting and sapped my will to write. Which sucks because I need to go write the next chapter of "Restitution" before tomorrow.

I think the reasons I went on the blocking spree are nuanced. The thirteen year old freaked me out. So did the other underaged people who had ages in their bios. But it also relates to my work. In my job I've seen some nasty child abuse cases. Early on in my career, when I was a 23 year old new hire, I was working on an autopsy for a child abuse victim who'd been murdered by their parent. It was so terrible and graphic, I had to ask one of my older colleagues to take the case. This colleague didn't like me. But she took one look at my face and took the file. She closed out the review without a question and never brought it up again to anyone. I was very grateful. Where I used to work (and where this incident took place) was a major city that holds the unfortunate title of being the human trafficking capital of the US. And something I learned working there was that most human trafficking victims go with their captors willingly. In two years at that job, I never saw one who'd been kidnapped from a dark alley like you see on TV. They were all groomed on social media and thought they were escaping their families (who were often overbearing, toxic, or dysfunctional) for a get away with friends. It was a fun adventure with their internet buddies, until it wasn't.

In retrospect, the underage interaction I found on my blog made me react because of what I've been through. The autopsy case kept coming back to me today while I was at work and I've finally untangled my emotions enough to figure out what caused my melt down. When I was blocking, I was feeling an anxious motivation that I know can only stem from the stress I deal with at my job. Don't feel sorry for me about this - I know my work in medicine helps a lot of people and it's a tremendously satisfying career.

Our Saga's Resolution & How I'm Going to Deal With This In The Future...

- - - - -

In post block clarity, I offer this conclusion:

I'm writing on a public forum. My work is appropriately tagged as smut. In the future, I will also use the tag #no minors to help with filtering. I've always asked underage people not to interact. And on a public forum, what more can I reasonably do? Going forward I will only interact with those who have their age posted in their bio. But blocking sprees and policing every interaction isn't feasible.

I'll review how I'm going to run my tag lists as well. I need to think it over and let my followers know my decision as to if I'll continue using them. Because tagging is definitely interaction and my current tag list was not screened at all. *face palm*

Finally, to my readers who have blank blogs or don't have an age listed. I respect your right to privacy and I'm careful with my personal information as well. But I've also had an uncomfortable two days. If you've lasted through this venting session until now, you must understand that I'm upset by underage interaction. I'm setting my own boundaries and going forward, I'll own my side of the internet. No interaction from me, unless I know your age. Full stop - no exceptions. I think it is reasonable for me to suggest that you leave something on your blog that signifies you are not a minor, whatever that may be. Someone who I didn't block that stands out in my memory had a bio that said "90s baby." It was simple, direct, and left no doubt they were over 18. No age reveal and not even a name. If you put something like this on your blog it'll help explicit content creators feel more comfortable about their interactions.

I went on a spree this Monday and I admit to being heavy handed and aggressive about pruning followers. I had an emotional reaction due to work stress and I didn't think things through logically. I'm relieved for the chance explain myself and set new boundaries that I'm capable of sticking to in the future. But remember - the block button is on my side of the screen. At the end of the day, you might be unhappy with me for the block, but it's my button, it's my blog, and I'll use it as I see fit.

Thank you for reading.

[ajaegerpilot]

in my first year of uni i had like 0 (zero) friends except for this one guy in my bio class whom i chatted with and made the mistake of giving my number to bc he’d text a lot and i dont like texting ppl except to exchange relevant information like plans or memes and anyway I remembered him (he was like 23 i believe) and like lmao at one point he did ask me out and i read him the ‘friendship is magic’ speech and he backed off. but that last text message was just like... i was Outtie...

[buckybeardreams]

Unwanted

Chapters: 5/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Words: 2,258

Tony bit his lip, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was sticking up in weird places from trying and failing to sleep last night. There were bags under his eyes that made him look like he hadn't slept in weeks and, well, really that wasn't too far off. Sometimes he drank enough to pass out for a little bit here and there, but he never just got a solid night's sleep. To be fair, Tony didn't sleep all that well even before he found his soulmate and then pretty much rejected him by never calling him.

Tony didn't sleep well when he was alone, but even when he wasn't and he did fall asleep instead of tossing and turning restlessly before giving up and going for a cup of coffee, Tony didn't sleep more then five hours tops unless he was passed out drunk. So maybe that's one of the reasons that he drinks so much.

He wasn't drinking right now, well, not much. He had a couple of beers, but that was nothing. Just a little something to take the edge off before he went to re-meet Brock's new mate. Tony sighed, took one last look at his disheveled appearance and flinched away from it, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch before heading out.

It was a cold day, windy and blustery with clouds hanging overhead that threatened to soak the inhabitants of the city as they walked down the street in large groups, pushing and shoving, each desperate to get where they're going before the rain ruined their hair or makeup. Tony was far less concerned and when the rain did come down and he was left with wet hair clinging to him and soaked clothes and a gloomy atmosphere that the rain couldn't wash away, well, he thought at least his hair wasn't sticking up all over the place.

He showed up on Brock's doorstep and was relieved when it was Brock who opened the apartment door. Brock was grinning, but it faltered slightly when he saw Tony.

"Hey, you okay?"

Tony nodded.

"Yeah, 'course. Now are you gonna invite me in or make me stay out in the hall for dinner?" Tony said, trying and failing to sound like his usual snarky self.

Brock still looked concerned, but he nodded and stepped aside to let Tony in.

"Yeah, of course, come in."

Tony entered into a small hall, kicking off his shoes before heading further into the apartment. He froze when he saw Steve sitting on the couch next to Sam. Tony's heart raced in his chest and his mind was thrown through a loop, because what the fuck was his soulmate doing here?

"Tony, this is Steve, Sam's friend." Brock watched him anxiously, wondering how he would react.

Steve was staring at Tony, clearly just as caught off guard as Tony was. Steve looked far more put together than Tony did, like he wasn't completely miserable about his mate rejecting him, and didn't that just make Tony feel way worse about looking like a wet rat. Sam's confusion quickly gave way to understanding as he put the pieces together. Anthony, who works at a bar, and is Steve's soulmate. Of course it would be Tony. By the looks of it Brock was already aware of this. Sam sent Brock a stern look and Brock returned it with a sheepish one.

"What?" Brock asked innocently, going to settle in his Alpha's lap.

Sam rolled his eyes, but hugged him close. Tony and Steve were still staring at each other, neither one moving or saying anything. Tony was the one to break the silence after a few more awkwardly drawn out moments.

"No, you're not Steve." Tony shook his head in denial. "You can't be Steve."

Steve's mouth opened and closed a few times like he was trying to say something, but couldn't quite get the words out.

"I am... um, Steve," Steve managed to get out, blushing over how awkward it was.

Tony rubbed at his temples and shook his head again.

"No, I can't- I can't do this right now."

Tony headed straight back to the door, grabbing his shoes, not even bothering to put them on, and walked out. Steve whimpered, looking hurt and lost and like he kinda wanted to chase after Tony, but was also afraid of just being rejected again. Brock just groaned, grumbling under his breath about being way too fucking stubborn before heading after Tony.

"That's- That was my soulmate," Steve said, somehow sounding both shocked and heartbroken.

"Yeah, I kinda got that," Sam said, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder. "You okay, man?"

Steve swallowed and nodded, but truthfully, he had no fucking clue if he was okay or not. He was completely blindsided by the sudden appearance and then just as sudden disappearance of his soulmate and he had no clue how to feel about that. He thought devastated might be the right word, but then somehow that didn't seem like it fit at all. Steve felt like he was dying, and no, he did not think that was an exaggeration.

*****

"Tony, stop!" Brock called out to him. "Don't make me run after you."

Tony groaned, coming to a halt at the end of the hall and turning to glare at Brock.

"You knew," Tony accused.

"I did, or at least I was like ninety percent sure about it."

"You should have told me. You know how I feel about Alphas."

"I know, but you told me-"

"I know what I said!" Tony snapped. "Don't use my own words against me. I confided in you and you used it against me."

Tony swallowed back the lump in his throat, feeling betrayed and confused. He wanted an Alpha, but he didn't want the things that inevitably would follow, like being controlled or looked down on. Most of all he was scared that Steve would be perfect and Tony wouldn't be good enough for him.

"Tony... I'm sorry, but I knew you were going to be stubborn about this. You told me that you regret not calling him. This is your chance to get to know him. You might like him if you give him a chance."

Tears pricked at Tony's eyes. He wasn't worried about not liking Steve, well, he was worried about that. Mostly though he was worried about falling too hard, too fast, only to be rejected. He wasn't the kind of Omega to just submit and say yes, sir. He had opinions and dreams and no intention of letting anyone else tell him how to live his life, but those weren't the kinds of things that most Alphas wanted in a mate.

"Tony, I've spent time with Steve and he's literally the softest Alpha I've ever met, and I'm mated to Sam so that's really saying something. My Alpha is totally wrapped around my finger."

Tony smiled a little at that.

"Sam does seem nice... for an Alpha," Tony teased.

Brock laughed and nudged his shoulder.

"He is and Steve is too. Just talk to him, Tony. See what happens."

Tony groaned, but let Brock lead him back to the apartment. Steve was still in shock, only a few minutes having passed since Tony walked out. It wasn't nearly enough time to process what had happened and suddenly Tony reappeared. Tony shifted on his feet, his hand slipped into Brock's, his palm sweaty. Brock squeezed his hand encouragingly and leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

"Do you want some space?"

Tony licked his lips, not sure he wanted this at all, but he owed himself this. He needed to at least try or he'd always be left wondering if it could have worked out. Besides, Brock was not going to let this go until Tony at least gave it a try. He swallowed down his fears and nodded. Brock nodded, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and pulled Sam deeper into the apartment. Steve and Tony stared at each other and it started to feel tense and awkward.

Tony groaned.

"We need to talk."

Steve looked nervous, certain that Tony was about to reject him, but he nodded.

"I don't like Alphas," Tony blurted out when the silence dragged on.

Steve flinched like Tony had slapped him.

"Oh," Steve said, unable to hide his disappointment.

He just knew that his Omega was about to reject him and Steve wasn't sure he would survive the rejection.

"Yeah..." Tony said. "I'm willing to give this a try though, but if you try to go all Alpha on me..."

Tony shook his head and Steve's brows furrowed.

"I don't like the way Alphas feel entitled to an Omega's body. Like Omegas are beneath them and only there for an Alpha's pleasure."

Steve bit his lip, not wanting to get his hopes up. He was pretty sure his Omega was suggesting that he wanted to be the dominant one in their relationship. Or maybe he was just saying he didn't want to submit to an asshole Alpha. Either way, Steve could definitely work with this.

"I would never force myself on you, Anthony."

"Tony."

Steve blinked at him in surprise before smiling softly. He didn't want to assume that Tony was comfortable enough with him to use a nickname, but it touched Steve to know that his Omega was trying. Tony wanted to give this a try even if he was worried about it and that was enough for Steve. He would be the best Alpha ever, because he would be exactly what Tony needed him to be. He knew already that he'd give Tony anything he wanted and he'd try his best to be whatever Tony wanted him to be.

"Tony," He breathed out.

The word rolled off his tongue like velvet and Tony felt all fluttery inside. He cleared his throat, feeling the urge to escape the foreign sensation.

"How old are you even?" Tony blurted out, feeling awkward and uncertain in a way that he hated feeling. He was so not used to the warm feeling inside of him or the desire to go to Steve and touch him and be held close.

Steve blinked at the question, caught off guard by it.

"Um, I'm not that young."

Tony raised a brow at him and Steve squirmed.

"You look young," Tony pointed out.

"I'm legal!" Steve said defensively.

"So you're what? Eighteen?"

Steve looked down at his feet, looking awfully small for a six foot, two hundred pound hunk of pure muscle. Tony took that to be a yes.

"You're what? Ten years younger than me?" Tony said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're practically still a pup. I can't date you."

Steve pouted.

"I don't want to date you. I want to mate with you. I want you to be mine."

"That's infinitely worse," Tony said, flinging his hands up in exasperation. "You do realize that right? That's so much worse."

"No, it's not. There's nothing wrong with an age gap, besides no one would judge us for it. The goddess chose you for me," Steve insisted.

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Or maybe she chose you for me. Ever thought that maybe it's not the Alpha that owns the Omega, but the Omega that owns the Alpha?" Tony snarked.

Steve blushed.

"Okay," Steve said, a little breathless. "I'll be yours, if only you'll have me."

Tony narrowed his eyes at him.

"You'd let me own you?"

"God, yes. Please, just don't reject me."

Tony licked his lips.

"Okay, come here, pup ."

Steve's blush deepened at being called a pup, but he didn't object to it. The moment Steve was within reach Tony grabbed his shirt and slammed their lips together, turning them so he could shove Steve up against the wall. Tony's hair was still dripping wet and his shirt was drenched. It got Steve wet, soaking through his own sweater, but he didn't care.

"Okay, then, pretty Alpha. You want to play, then let's play," Tony said, coming as close to a growl as an Omega could.

Steve gasped when Tony's hand grasped him in between his legs and groped him through his pants. His face lit up bright red and Tony smirked at his blushing Alpha. He was so fucking sweet. Tony thought that maybe, just maybe, this could work out, but they were going to have to agree on one very important thing if there was going to be any chance of them mating.

"Let's be clear, I still want your knot, but I'm in charge here and you do what I say or I'll throw you out and you won't get another chance."

Steve swallowed, nodding rapidly.

"Yes, sir."

Tony smirked, licking his lips.

"Good boy," Tony purred in his ear, his tongue darting out to lick his neck, his teeth sharp on his skin.

Steve whimpered, his head falling to the side to give his Omega better access. Clearly, the goddess knew what she was doing when she paired them up, because this was better than Steve had dared to hope for. Steve had always been excited about having a mate, but he had always thought he'd present as an Omega. When he didn't, he was concerned that he'd never be a good enough Alpha, but the moment he saw Tony in that bar he knew that he was in love, knew that he'd do anything to please this man.

Now here they were and Tony wanted him, wanted to use him, and Steve was in heaven. There was nothing that he wanted more than to please Tony, to be used by him, to be ordered around by his pretty little Omega.

Tony tried not to think about how young and naive Steve was. He didn't want to admit that a part of him was thrilled to be more experienced, to be the one teaching his Alpha about pleasure. It was pretty obvious that Steve had no experience, because when Tony kissed him Steve had no idea what he was doing. He had no rhythm and he clearly didn't know what to do with his tongue when Tony licked at his lips and dove inside his mouth. Tony thought it was cute though. Steve squirmed and whimpered, his blush spreading down his neck, and Tony ate it all up.

"Fuck, you're cute," Tony groaned when he pulled away. "Maybe I'll keep you after all."

[sclfmastery]

Oooh please talk about the “with me at your side” line when he’s revealing everything to the doctor 😃

I think what it boils down to for me is that the Doctor and the Master are more than mere opposites: they’re foils.  

A foil is a complement, meaning it’s not simply an oppositional force, and not simply a mirror image, but it’s two halves of a whole which, together, make each of the two parts more distinctly itself, as well as more complete.  It’s an exercise in simultaneous unity and individuality.  It’s a totality of binaries (life and death, observation and conquest, liberation and control, diffusion and direction) that define each other.  It’s an intensity of love so great and complex, and, as Missy once put it, so past human comprehension,  that it becomes identity.  

A lot of people say that this pairing is toxic. I can’t strictly disagree, but for me, exploring it within the safe realm of fiction, and ONLY fiction, provides the freedom to examine how the Doctor and Master are essentially the same being diverged in a fork in the road produced by environmental factors and resultant personal choices.  

Both the Doctor and Master felt the existential dilemma of “not belonging” on Gallifrey. If you accept Timeless Child canon, then you know part of why the Doctor felt this way.  But even without that, both children ultimately felt a need to shirk the rules of their forebears, to abandon structure in favor of adventure and of freedom.  Non sequitur, but a lot of authors and media producers in the fandom believe both the Doctor and Master are metaphors for neurodiversity in modern-day society, and how neurodivergent people lead parallel but different experiences from neurotypical society.  I have to agree with this, and I think it finds their story compelling. In essence, the Doctor knew they didn’t belong, and knew that running, both metaphorical and literal, was the immediate solution, from the moment they looked into the Untempered Schism (that is, again, if you accept NuWho canon, in this case RTD canon): and they CHOSE the Master to be their most important partner in running.  Because, no matter how many lives the Doctor may have had before the Master, redacted by the Division, the fact that “[the Master] is the only person remotely like me,” wild, creative, ambitious, quixotic and ingenious, remains. 

Fast forward to their current faces, and their current identity crisis. Who better to usher in the Doctor’s most shattering epiphany–an epiphany which, to take Ruth’s words to heart, may one day also liberate–than her complement? Her equal opposite?  Her foil?  It’s very appropriate that the Master–best friend, recipient of her Confession Dial, and so on–would be the one to take her hand right back (you can’t tell me Chibs didn’t do that on purpose, the “take my hand” motif, which is a reflection of the first moment they met, just as was his comment about being a “bad sprinter”) and show her the reality of her origins.  

This “with me at your side” remark then, was the Master trying to RECLAIM his half of their joint identity, just as was his request that she kneel and say his name, in Spyfall.  He’s telling her, “I’ve just given you the gift of the truth. I’ve just given you your real origin story.  Now I want to engage in the ritual, the very EXPLICIT and UNDENIABLE ritual, of REGAINING MY OWN SIGNIFICANCE, as the best friend AT YOUR SIDE, watching you transform into The You Who Knows Everything.” 

A partner in crime is sometimes just the person who Bears Witness to Greatess. That’s what the Master wanted here.  No one is greater to the Master than the Doctor. No one. 

I mean, remember what Ten said to Simm, about bearing witness to the wonders of the universe?  “That’s ownership enough.” Maybe he just didn’t realize that he was the Master’s universe, and the Master had been bearing witness already. For a very long time. 

And I’m sorry to say that, in her reeling pain, recognizing she was an abandoned child and survivor of serial abuse, at death’s door, needing to feel victorious, the Doctor dashed that to pieces.  She dashed the Master’s hope of being her complement–in essence, she vanquished his EXISTENCE on a very mythic, allegorical trope level–when she re-established, more firmly than ever, the supposed difference between the two of them: “I am so much more than you.”

But she’s not. And before you say I’m just stanning the Master, neither is he.  They’re both halves of a whole.  They’re foils: who, whether you “ship” them or not, can’t fully exist without each other. 

[tiaragqueen]

can i request a shy and gentle yandere jimin that manipulates the reader into staying with him? he would never hurt her or others but threatens to hurt himself is she wants to leave. thank u and i love ur writing 🤩

Yaksok

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Park Jimin x Reader

✂ Word Count: 2,9k

✂ Trigger Warning: Self-harm, mentions of depression, suicide attempt, manipulation, possessiveness

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don’t believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Donot re-upload my writing to another website or use it without mypermission.

[Edited]

***

To be honest, I didn’t expect this one-shot to get so dark. I had to prevent myself from imagining certain scenes too vividly in case I became too uncomfortable. They’re not too explicit. So, if anyone feels the same way as me, please don’t force yourself to read this. Feel free to click the back button. Thank you.

If you like mywriting, please support me on ko-fi!

“I don’t think I can do anything without you. I can’t live a day without you. I’m gonna try to handle you. I’m not dangerous. So, baby, don’t worry.” – Stuck [Monsta X]

Jimin’sfavorite expression of yours was when you were simply glowing. No, not in a literal sense. It was when you skippedaround, with a huge smile gracing your darling face, and the sunlight hittingall the right spot of your visage. Heespecially loved it when he was thereason for your joy. It gratified himto know that he had succeeded in making you happy, however small it might be. Because your smile was worth it, and Jimin would do anythingto see that sight forever.

However,he couldn’t find it in himself to be as happyas you did today.

“Baby,you look beautiful. Where are you going?” Jimin asked, sitting on the marooncouch with his legs spread wide.

Hewas indirectly inviting you to sit on his lap; something that he always didwhen you both didn’t have anything to do that day. He simply loved wrapping hisarms around your stomach, or sometimes, you would be the one who hugs him frombehind. Jimin was initially wary with your offer, thinking that you might nolonger like sitting on his lap, while turned out you just wanted to repay his favor.

Thatwas what he loved from you; your sense of gratitudeand indebtedness. Sure, Jiminshowered you, unconditional love, freely and never demanded you to reciprocate, but it felt nice when you acknowledgedhis efforts.

“Oh,really? Thanks!” You grinned shyly, the apples of your cheeks reddened alittle. “I’m actually going to go out with my friends.”

“Who?”

Youlooked up, trying to remember the names of your friends who would join.“Bambam, Lisa, Jennie, Kai, and Xiumin.”

Thebeam on Jimin’s face slowly disappeared like a setting sun. “Xiumin…?”

“Yeah,Xiumin.” You nodded absent-mindedly as you put on your shoes. “You stillremember him, right?”

Oh,yes. Of course, Jimin still remembered that guy.How could he not? Xiumin was, afterall, your ex. The man who had datedyou before you met Jimin. The man whogot to be your first in everything;first kiss, first hug, first touch. Though, you’d claimed that you never hadsex with him. Jimin felt an incredible relief washed over the rock that weighedhis chest, because how could he go on knowing that that filthy guy had taken your virginity?

Yeah,sure. Jimin hadn’t touched yousexually, either. The furthest thing he’d ever done was a make-out. But evenso, he was careful not to step the boundaries that you’d set before you twostarted dating. It wasn’t as if you refused to be intimate with him. It wasjust you wished to prevent unplanned pregnancy, and he readily complied,however heavy it felt to him.

Jiminfrowned as he tried to word his question properly. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but he also didn’twant you to leave him. Especially to meet up with that… that guy. He knew that you’d parted ways with Xiumin peacefully, asyou felt that the relationship was going nowhere, but Jimin still couldn’tshake off the jealousy that bubbled on his chest. What kind of man doesn’t feelthat way when his girlfriend is about to walk with her ex?

“Doyou really have to leave, baby?”

“Yeah,we’ve been planning that since last week.”

Last week. You’d been secretlyplanning to go out with other people – with your ex – since last week. Well, technically it wasn’t so much of a secret since Jimin hadn’t asked about ityet. But at the very least, you could give a heads up right?

Thiswas too sudden. Too much for him tocomprehend at once.

“Chim?Jimin?” A hand snapped in front of his glazed eyes. “Earth to Jimin.”

“Don’tgo,” he whispered.

Youstrained your ears in order to hear him more clearly. “Huh? Did you saysomething, Chim?” you inquired.

Helooked up, gaze resolute yet pleading.Begging you to just say yes. “I said,don’t go.”

“Whatare you talking about, Jimin? Of course, I’ll go. It’s been a long time since Imet my friends. Surely you can allow me to have some fun once in a while,right?”

“AmI not important to you anymore,[Name]?”

Youstraightened up. Jimin preferred to call you with affectionate nicknames, sofor him to suddenly call you with your name suggested that he was being serious with you. Of course, it didn’tmean you would immediately obey his plea. You were his girlfriend, not his maid. There was no reason for you to kowtowjust because he refused to let you go out.

“Jimin,you know that you’ll always be important to me, right?” you said earnestly. Youhad seen first-hand how hysterical Jimin could be when cornered, and you’d liketo avoid it at all cost. Patience wasn’t something that both of you really hadbefore, but if you wanted to keep this relationship, then one of you needed tolearn how to be patient. Therefore, you’d decided to take on the challenge andbe the voice of reason in case Jimin got too agitated. It wasn’t easy, given how prone he was to anuncontrollable display of emotions, but it was worth it.

Atleast, that was what you thought.

Afew years ago, if someone were to tell you that you would date a man-child, youwould surely scowl and tell them to piss off. Because you didn’t need a guy wholiked to throw a tantrum nor restrict you in any way. However, fate just hadthe strangest way of setting you upwith your partner. And now that you already met one, you ought to maintain it.Besides, where else would you find such a devotedboyfriend like him? Someone thatdidn’t mind his pride as a man and loved to throw himself on to you at pretty much any given opportunity.Someone that didn’t pretend to be cold or aloof to make you chase him like oneof those foolish love-struck girls.

“Then,just tell them that you’re sick and stay at home with me.” he whined as though it was that easy to decline an invitationthat used to be a ‘small-talk’ amongst you. Your friends already had theirlives and lovers, thus making the reunion a difficult thing to do. And now thatyou were finally available, and onthe verge of going out, Jimin decided to act like a toddler?

“Ican’t, Jimin.” You took a deep breath to quell the bubbling anger in yourchest. Oh, how tempting it was tojust scream and curse at his selfishness. “This is the only day where all of my friends have a day off. Besides, it’s notlike I’d take long anyway. I’ll definitely be home around seven pm.”

Jiminbowed his head like a guilty child. For a moment, you’d thought that he finallysurrendered. But you were proven wrong when he stared at you dead in the eye. This time, there was nosign of pleading that you saw earlier.

“Ifyou leave,” he paused for dramatic effect, lips set into a thin line. “ThenI’ll hurt myself.”

Perhapsyou should’ve used those precious few seconds to prepare yourself for hearinghis next statement.

“Whatthe fuck, Jimin?!” you shouted, unable to conceal your shock anymore. “Are you crazy?! Did you even know what you were saying?”

Jiminsaid nothing. He didn’t even bat an eye at your exclamations. Usually, he wouldstart defending himself. But now, he just kept silent.

Andthat was scary because this was thefirst time he’d ever been trulyserious with you.

“Chim,I–” you sighed, massaging your throbbing temples. How did a simple question goto a heated fight like this? “I thinkyou should rest or something. Get your mind off of that ridiculous thought. If you’re jealous because Xiumin is there, thenI assure you I have no romanticfeelings for him anymore. I’m not some woman who would go behind my man’s back.You know me, Jimin. I’m loyal. Iwouldn’t date you if I still loved Xiumin.”

Thebell suddenly rang, shattering the growing tension between you. You ran a handthrough your hair and sighed.

“I’mout now. Don’t get close to knives or any sharp things. I’ll bring home somepizza later.” you mumbled before heading to the front door to greet yourguests.

Jiminlistened to the boisterous voices of your friends’ and your cheerful one. Younever spoke to him that way. Heck,you never even greeted him sojoyfully like that. Your tone was alwayscalm, resembling a mother that tried to pacify her wailing child. And your face… It never glowed when meeting him.

Wereyou happy with him? Were you just humoring him all along? Did you feel burdened being in a relationship withhim? He knew that it was wrong to attempt to manipulate you, but was it so wrongfor wanting to spend more time with you?

Youloved him, right?

Frowning,he went into the kitchen. You had told him to not touch any sharp things, but you had disobeyed his demand. So, why should he obey yours?

Jiminpulled a knife from the cutlery drawer and inspected the sharp edges. It wasnewly sharpened and had never been used before since you tended to use the sameones for eating. The blade reflected his forlorn face as he brought it to hisarm. Slowly, he pressed the tip against his skin and winced a little at theharsh sting. He dragged it along the once smooth surface and crisscrossed eachline. Blood began to trickle from the self-inflicted gashes, creating tinypools on the white floor.

Onlyone name floated in the iron smelledair when he finally gathered the courage to slit his wrist, signifying what might be the end of his life.

“[Name]…”

Yourstomach was churning.

Itwas odd since you hadn’t eaten anything,and yet you felt like wanting to puke. You stopped on your tracks, holding yourtummy with a pained frown. Maybe the meat you ate last night had reached itsexpiration? No, of course not. You clearlyremembered the expiry date when you went shopping two days ago, and it stated aweek from now.

Unlessthe factory purposefully put stale meat inside one of its products…?

“[Name],”a deep voice called your name. You glanced towards the speaker, finding Xiuminalready stood beside you. “Are you okay? You look constipated.”

Yousmiled wearily, paying no heed to the subtle tease. “Yeah, well. I don’t feelso good.”

Hecocked an eyebrow and tilted his head a little. “Why? We still haven’t eatenanything, though.”

“Right,but suddenly I just feel like vomiting.”

“Maybeit’s a sign of pregnancy?”

Lisasnapped her head towards you, eyes dilated and mouth slightly agape. It was themost scandalous expression you’d ever seen from her. “Eh, what’s this? [Name]’spregnant?”

“My,my. You’re growing old now, eh?”Beside her, Bambam wiggled his brows teasingly.

Youslapped Xiumin’s shoulder and shot a vicious glare to the snickering duo, heavyblush coated your cheeks. “Shut up, both of you! And Xiumin, how could you eventhink about that?”

Xiuminstifled a giggle at your flushing face. “Well, how else am I supposed to guessthen?” he questioned. “It was the only logicalexplanation.”

“Well,that wasn’t the only explanation,okay?” you retorted, crossing your arms at his quick - and honestly blasphemous- conclusion. “I might behaving a minor stomach-ache rightnow.”

“Areyou saying that you haven’t had sexwith Jimin yet?”

Bambam‘oh’-ed at the bold inquiry, while Lisa giggled against her palm.

“Xiumin!” you hissed, glowering in thescariest visage you could muster.

“Okay,okay, I’m just joking.” The said man wiped a tear that escaped from his eye andraised his hands in mock surrender. “But, seriously. Have you ever-?”

“No,”you immediately cut him off. “I don’t want to get a pre-marital pregnancy.”

“Oh,okay. That’s understandable.”

Youpeered at him. “Well, what about you?”

“Nah,we’re taking it slow.” Xiumin sighed and looked up at the darkening sky. “Don’twant to rush anything.”

“Butyou’re gonna propose her, right?”

“Later,when the time’s right.” He looked at you through his peripheral vision. “You?”

“Idon’t know,” you shrugged. Marriage was something that crossed your mindoccasionally, yet never had the guts to bring it up to Jimin in fear ofrejection. You didn’t even know if he wanted to have a family since he seemed content with just the two of you. “Someday, I guess. I’m not so sure.”

Xiuminhummed. “Just don’t forget to give me the invitation.”

Yourolled your eyes and smiled. “Obviously.”

Whenyou broke up with him, you feared that you might break your friendship too.Xiumin had been your best friend since elementary school, and you couldn’t bearto see him turning his back on you after years of being together. But you’dunderestimated his maturity because the following day after your separation, hehad texted you first. It then occurred to you that while you no longer datedhim, it didn’t mean you couldn’t still befriend him. Sometimes, you wonderedwhat you did in your past life to deserve such a mature friend like him. Someone that was willing to move on from the pastand tie back any loose strings that you’d accidentally cut back then.

Theringtone of your phone blared amidst the light chatters. Jennie stoppedchatting with her boyfriend, Kai and glanced through her shoulder.

“Yourboyfriend’s calling you already,[Name]?” she asked.

“Oh,uh,” you quickly fished out your phone from the bag and frowned at the caller.“No, it’s not him. Wait a minute.Hello?”

“[Name]-noona, where areyou?”Jungkook’s breathy voice rang your ear.

“I’mout with my friends in the city. Why?”

“Oh, um, well. There’sa, uh… bad news.”

Thecolor instantly drained from your face as every sound became white noise.“What? What do you mean ‘bad news’?”

“You see, Noona.” Jungkook coughed acrossthe call, and you resisted the urge to snap at him. “I came to your apartment to play video games with Jimin-hyung, but hewasn’t in the living room. So I searched for the whole place and I found himlying on the kitchen floor.”

“And?”you inquired impatiently.

“He was bleeding, Noona.There’s a lot of gashes in his arms, and I also saw a knife beside him. Thepolice suspected that he was trying to kill himself from the laceration in hisleft wrist. Luckily, the paramedics saved him in time. He’s in the hospitalright now.”

Ifyou weren’t already shocked, then you were frozen.Hollow eyes gazed forward as you attempted to digest his explanation. Jimin…tried to kill himself? But, why? Whydid he do that? Did he secretly havea depression? No, that couldn’t be it. He always asked you to coddle himwhenever he was feeling down in the dumps. And besides, he was the type to wearhis emotions on the sleeves. So, why?

Therealization dawned on you as you rushed to the hospital, ignoring your friends’frantic calls. When Jimin said that he would hurt himself if you left him, youhadn’t expected him to truly carry itout. But, of course, you were stupid to think that he was being plain ridiculous. When did he ever lie to you, anyway? He always kept his promises, and that wasone of the many traits that you liked from him.

Andnow, when the situation had turned grave, you finally realized the terrifying depth of his love.

“Jimin!”

Youburst into the room, indifferent to the noise you’d caused. Jimin lied on thebed with gauze covering his arms. Tears stung your eyes as you slowlyapproached him, still couldn’t get over the fact that he really did attempt suicide an hour ago.

“J-Jimin…”

Thesaid man fluttered his eyes open and beamed at the sight of you. “Baby, you’re back!” he croaked.

Younodded vehemently. “I’m here. I’m herenow, Jim,” you whispered, trying to reassure yourself that you hadn’t lost yourboyfriend yet.

“I’mglad,” he smiled softly; a simple yet meaningful action that pierced yourheart. “I thought… you wouldn’t come.I miss you.”

Cradlinghis bandaged hand, you gently kissed his knuckle. “Of course, I came. You’re myboyfriend, after all.”

Jimin’ssmile widened a fraction, the hopeful gleam returned to his drowsy eyes. “Then,will you promise me that you won’tabandon me again from now on?”

“Iwasn’t abandoning you, Jim–”

“Will you?”

Youstared down at his imploring face. You knew what he was doing, and you knew whathe wanted you to do. Sure, you might not be the sharpest person in the world,but you were aware of the manipulation people often attempted to project on toyou.

Andyet, you willingly let yourself be manipulatedby him. All because you loved him too muchto see him die on his own hands.

Butwas it really love, when you only felt pityand guilt at his current condition?Was it really love, when you merely humoredhim like a lowly servant you came tobe?

Youdidn’t know, but you nodded anyway.

“I will.”

Wereyou the victim here? Or was it him?

Nevertheless,the joyous smile on his face was worththe emotional baggage that you’d carried these past few years.

“Thankyou, baby.”

Andat least, he appreciated yourefforts. However wrong his tacticwas.

[phoebewallerbrigde]

All For Us, (a Reddie x Euphoria HBO) fanfiction

"It was the end of summer, back-to-school was coming up, I had no intention of staying clean and Richie Trashmouth Tozier was back in Derry." 

Without any filter but with humor and franchise, here's the harsh coming of age story of Derry's youth through the eyes of Eddie Kaspbrak, 17, fresh out of rehab.

read it on AO3 || Explicit || 8k || 1/?

Hope you like it guys !

There was a time in my life where everything was fine, but that, that was before I was ripped out of my mother’s womb. Since then, it’s been shit.

Chapter 1 : Screwed.

I was born on September 3rd, 2002 in a world post 9/11 completely overwhelmed by the mourning and the duty of memory. It has been four months since Sam Raimi's Spiderman was at the top of the world box office and that Peter Parker had managed to give hope to America and New York. Far from everything and from New York, there was my mother and my father, and I was their Spiderman. Nice, huh? I don’t think so.

---

My life begins without warning with a childhood in a big house in the depths of America's asshole. Derry, Maine. A small town so small that everyone knows each other and knows everything. That’s where the problems start. My father became ill when I was 9 years old and my overprotective mother was already beginning to fall into what I call "parental and marital abuse". Life at home was absolutely not great, especially because of my "not fitting" behavior.

"Eddie-bear, is everything okay?" asked Sonia Kaspbrak worried.

A 10-year-old Eddie was still staring at the front door counting seconds every time he heard the clock tick of the dining room.

"Eddie-bear, look at me." she added in a calm voice. "You did not even touch your .."

Eddie turned her head to Sonia and began to cry at once. Sonia and Frank looked at each other in amazement, feeling completely helpless.

They did what every healthy-minded parent would do, choosing to consult several doctors, a psychologist and a children's psychiatrist. I wasn't physically abused, I always drank at least a liter of water a day, my mother prepared me good dishes, my father did not hit me... 

"Your son has OCD, ADHD and anxiety. He has a higher brain activity than the average child for his age, probably due to hypersensitivity and perhaps also to behavioral disorders... But he’s still too young to tell."

The psychiatrist's voice left a blank in the room and Sonia Kaspbrak burst into tears. Frank stroked his wife's back for reassurance and Eddie turned to his mother without understanding what was happening.

So why do I have this?

---

"Neuroatypical, you are neuroatypical, Eddie-bear."

Eddie mimicked his mother while eating his cereal bowl, she glanced him, he stopped and sighed.

"Show me your phone, I'll check your alarms."

An 11-year-old Eddie contemplated the capsules, pills and other medications that his mother was carefully distributing in each compartment of his medicine box. He handed him his yellow iPhone 5c that he had already unlocked on the alarms page.

"You have to take all your medicine, at the times indicated."

"I know, Ma."

Sonia looked at her son, who continued to eat with a peeved look on his face. She sat down beside him, putting down his cellphone and the box of compartmentalized tablets.

"You know ... there are lots of famous people like you - famous people, super creative and smart." She managed to catch Eddie's attention and then continued. "Look, your favorite actor who plays in The Truman Show for example."

"Jim Carrey?" 

"Yes!" exclaimed Sonia with a smile.

Yeah, and we all remember Jim Carrey during the 00s New Year Eve on David Letterman's set.

"A genius." ended Eddie with a smile before getting up and packing his box in his fanny pack.

I don’t really remember my pre-adolescence and all that time when I was 10 to 12. I mean, I remember my friends, how meaningless life was, how fast everything was falling apart for us because of daddy’s pneumonia, and how the world was going way too fast for my brain. And that sometimes, if I happened to think too much about everything, to concentrate too much on an smell or on the number of germs present under the table on which I wrote or on the strange way that I breathed ... I had a violent asthma attack. The space of a moment. But very quickly the space of a moment became all the time and all the time became a fight to fight these crises. And frankly...

"So this day, son?" Frank asked with a smile as Eddie walked into his room still dressed with his backpack.

He could hear his father listen to Queen and David Bowie's Under Pressure, one of his favorite songs who became one of his. That made him sketch a small smile.

"I'm fucking done with it."

--- 

I’m not necessarily proud of the choices I’ve made, but it wasn’t really like my mom didn’t push me. The house was full of meds. Meds here, meds there, meds in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the guest room, in the garage. My mother ordered meds profusely but gave me "gazebos" when I was perhaps the one who needed treatment the most. A treatment, I needed a treatment. I got it. It was there in front of me, everywhere, I knew every name and every dose of what the psychiatrist was giving me, it was not hard to remember, so I took it. I took but nothing. I did not feel any difference, the asthma attacks, the tremors, the sadness were still there. I took again and again and always more. When I went to the doctors, they increased the doses and I changed my mother's gazebos with my real meds. It made me feel something in the end, but it was too late, I was already addicted. But after all, is it really my fault? Oh, and I think we say "placebos".

12 years old and already on medication dependence. 13 years old and I stole my father’s morphine and other painkillers. 14 years old and I was asking for more with my psychotropics. 15 years old, I took my 1st taz and smoked my first joint. 16 years old and I sniffed my first rail, the first among others. That's why Georgie Denbrough found me unconscious in my own vomit. I had become a junkie ? I don’t know. I just liked the feeling. The feeling that it gave me, the nothingness. For once on earth, for as long as I can remember, I felt something new every time. It was this need that had led Georgie to scream with fear, which alerted Bill Denbrough to run to discover the disaster and tell him to look for my mother as he tried to wake me up. Poor Big Bill, he thought I was dead. I believed it, too.

I spent the whole summer in rehab after that, I never understood why. Well, I did but I didn’t think I was addicted to drugs. Drugs filled the gap that meds sometimes leave when it’s over. But I’ve learned that meds, too, are drugs.

"Eddie!"

"Georgie!"

Georgie ran into Eddie's arms, Eddie couldn’t help laughing and making remarks about how Georgie was almost ahead of him now. This made Bill laugh when he came to give him their secret handshake before taking the smallest in his arms.

"Hey!" whispered Eddie with a big smile.

Sonia in the distance watched her son squeeze the only two friends she had allowed to come with her to pick up Eddie, since they had been present and saved him with the accident. They ended up taking the road with them to their house. 

"I'm so happy you're back home, Eddie-darling, I missed you so much, never do that again, you gave me up for 3 long months, you realize, I could not to do nothing without you, I was so lonely and you know how much I hate it, never do that again, I made an appointment with the hospital for full exams and we will change you your doses, I will take good care of you my ... "

Eddie stopped paying attention to his mother, he looked around, Georgie and Bill cheerfully discussed everything Bill had planned to do to make up for lost time with Eddie. Not to mention the Losers, but Eddie figured out they were in. The brunette one landed on the windowsill and let the wind caress his face. He noticed in the distance a boy on a bicycle, this long and thin figure was telling him something. Brown curls, an alternative style between neglected but sought after, worn out converses, pale skin to death. Eddie’s eyes marveled at his sight when the car passed him. He felt his heartbeat accelerate and his heart pounding.

And that’s when the beginning of the end really began. It was the end of summer, back-to-school was coming up, I had no intention of staying clean and Richard Trashmouth Tozier was back in Derry. I had to talk to the one person who knew everything about everything.

---

"So ... How long have you been back among us? You have completely hidden your return." Mike asked, eating his salad.

"A week and I didn’t hide everything! I was in quarantine between the hospital and at home all week, thanks Ma. Bill didn’t tell you?" said Eddie watching Mike eat.

"Bill and I don’t really talk right now when we see each other. You know that."

Mike is probably the smartest person I know, yet he still didn’t dare tell the love of his life that he loved him. At the same time, he was living on a planet other than ours and didn’t really have time to be a normal high school student. It was easier to fuck Bill and continue to just be his bro than become his significant other. 

"Richie is back, by the way."

"Ah."

"Yup, he went to the farm and got a 50$ of weed. He didn’t even want me to give him a price."

"D'you know more?" "Hm... He’s already been here for two weeks. He seemed pretty happy to be back, California changes you a man." said Mike laughing what made Eddie smile. "We’ll see when we get back to school."

Eddie nodded at Mike.

"How are you feeling ?" Mike asked, carefully watching Eddie.

"Great since I gave my life to abstinence and I stopped jerking off." Eddie answered seriously.

"Oh ...... Cool, cool, cool, I'm really happy for you."

"Mike, I’m messing with you. You should see your face." Eddie laughed while Mike gave him a pat on the shoulder. " Anyway, that’s not all, but is your grandfather here, Vegemike?"

"Are you serious bro?"

"Hey, it's not because I'm doing a rehab that I'm going to stay clean."

"But.... Isn’t that the point of a rehab? I won’t let you do something stupid again."

"Come on, just weed."

"You do not like weed, Kaspbrak."

"Fine but can I at least have your cherry tomatoes?"

Mike nodded and smiled at his best friend who continued to eat his salad with him.

Something I missed this summer? My trips to the Hanlon farm. Mike being a divine cook and plus a vegan, obviously, his food was safe and harmless to me. And the Hanlon house was the best hostess for parties, it was big, rebuilt in recent years and far enough to be quiet. I must have missed a lot of parties, but if there was one coming up, Stanley Uris'. And if you thought I was gonna miss it, the last big party before school, so the most important one of the summer, you can suck my dick. That’s probably why that piece of shit of Henry Bowers brought his ass back to the farm. It’s a good thing the Hanlons were selling him their wares for twice as much.

"Yo, there you go! That’s his mama’s boy!" he cried as he entered the storefront. "I thought you were dead. Good, because my knife will be able to tate the ground."

"Go get your shit and get off him, dude."

"You’re lucky I haven’t touched you since you’re the best drug dealer in town, but don’t trust me, nig.."

Mike rose sharply and faced Bowers. His eyes were black and Bowers backed away.

"All right, all right, I’ll go."

I never liked Henry Bowers, and I truly believe no one has ever loved him. Even his father hates him. If you were looking for someone to identify as the rich cis hit white man in this city, it was him. He was "untouchable" or rather believed himself untouchable because his father was the most influential guy in the city. He had been sheriff but had ended up building his business and it had taken. It was quite unbelievable, however, now Bowers was living his best life and did not think he had to be accountable to anyone when he still had a mullet cut in 2019 and that he should clearly shut up the fuck up. Before, he harassed me as well as the rest of the Losers club, for my part I was entitled to homophobic insults in profusion. But one day we humiliated him front of his friends. Since then he has left us alone and yesterday’s nerds his become today’s popular. Karma, as they say.

 ---

It was about to get dark in a few hours, a young man was cycling in the streets of Derry. He was tall, fine and handsome. A car passed by him and he was destabilized.

"Back among us, motherfucker, this is my secret sauce as a welcome gift, Tozier!"

Bowers' voice was loud and Hockstetter's laugh had not failed him. Richie had managed to avoid the milkshake he had sent him. He gave him fingers as he went away and Richie sighed on his way home. He passed by the kitchen and dropped off his racing bag and went to his room where he threw himself into his bed. He took out his phone and went straight to Grindr. Richie was scrolling, watching nudes, messages, chatting with people, going from Grindr to Tinder, and finally finding happiness. For tonight, anyway, then took a nap.

If there was anyone that nobody expected to see again in Derry, it was Richie fucking  Tozier. He told me he was back from his parents' divorce. His father had kept the old family house in which he lived in Derry. Something must have happened with his mother in California because Richie preferred to come and live with his father in our good ol' Derry, but he refused to tell me what happened. That Tozier really is a moron.

Richie awoke. It was already 7 pm. He sighed, got up, went downstairs to eat with his father who had prepared some homemade pizzas and then went back to his room. It was 8 pm. He got motivated, launched his "Party times" playlist which debuted on Plus Putes Que Toutes Les Putes from the French band Orties. He took a shower and picked out an outfit. When he found the right one, he couldn’t help but smile. A black wide sweater with a yellow stripe in the middle and "The villa hopes" written on it, simple black slim jeans, red socks and its Converses x 70 x OFF Springs Velour Patchwork. He rolled up his sleeves, made himself up by putting on black, blue, yellow and red eyeliner to make an editiorial makeup, nothing too dramatic. He was dancing in front of his mirror and laughing. He passed his hands several times without his brown curls, put big silver rings on his fingers and finally put on his necklaces including his favorite, the one with a red balloon pendant. He took his Lacoste fanny pack and while looking at it, he had a little smile thinking of the one person who had never stopped wearing these before it became trendy again. He went down the stairs and fell on his father.

"Oh, look at yourself ! So, where are you going?" asked Wenthworth Tozier while observing his son.

Richie arrived in front of his father after crossing the living room. They lived in a beautiful house, quite luxurious from the outside as well as the inside. Richie hugged his father to reassure him.

"To a party, with friends."

"Friends ?"

"Yes, my old friends, dad."

Wenthworth nodded and Richie waved his hand with his index finger and middle finger at his temple before moving them away.

"Watch out, have fun and protect yourself, Rich!"

Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Tozier, Richie was sure to protect himself properly with those Saint Laurent condoms in his bag.

Richie smiled at his father before taking his bike and leaving.

Richie did not want his return to make too much noise. Yet it was all the opposite effect. Everyone who had lived in Derry between 2002 and 2016, so everyone, knew Richie Trashmouth Tozier. The first to know about Richie's return was Ben. Simply because the two were following the same two-week artistic summer course that the school had organized. It was a little stupid because Richie was a little genius despite appearances and Ben was just good at everything without having to force. At least Ben had been able to reconnect with Richie and pass the information to the rest of Losers, but except me, of course.

When he arrived in front of a hotel in the city, he smiled at the message of the chosen one and sent a message to Ben.

[Forget me for tonight, I have a date.]

Ben glanced at his phone, and then at Beverly. Both exchanged suspicious looks.

"What’s going on?" Beverly asked.

"It’s Richie. He says he’s not coming tonight."

"What did you told him?" Beverly looked at herself in the mirror.

"Nothing! He’s just gonna do his little business with someone."

"Oh okay, chill, he’ll come later. Why you scare us like that!" replied Beverly getting close to Ben to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Ben went red in action and Betty Ripsom made a disgusting sound. Beverly stopped to look at the brunette, she had completely forgotten her presence. After all, it was her who'll dropped them off at Stanley’s. "Stop. You’ll do the same thing tonight and even more," she said looking at her.

In case you're wondering, yes, Ben is in love with Bev. For far too long for me to remember. For Bev, however, nobody really knows. Bev is a mystery to everyone, I still wonder why she's friends with us. She's a cheerleader, she's so popular, much more than Mike or Bill or Stan. She has a reputation behind her, yet it has never stopped her from being the baddest bitch in town. A real rolemodel to the twink that I am. Perhaps the most amazing thing is that she was fake dated for a month with Bowers just for a bet and it lasted until today, well, until two days ago. She still made 200 dollars on it every month.

"You slept with Bowers, you do not have the right to speak." Betty retorted.

"A hand job. It was a hand job and it happened once during the 3 months of the bet. Then anyway, Bowers is a clown. It’s not Penny Wise who’s gonna say otherwise. I was able to take away as much as I could before I dumped him. And tonight, we move on." she said, turning to Ben.

"Yes, that’s what everyone wants to hear! Shit Ben, tonight you have to fuck! Not just a handjob or a blowjob! It’s not the '80s anymore, you have to catch some pussy."

Ben smiled slightly embarrassed and turned to Beverly who grinned while listening to Betty. He totally ignored Betty’s words, then lowered his head, a little disappointed. He really wanted to disappear underground at this very moment.

In his place, I’d like to, too. Thank you, Betty.

 ---

"Ma ? I’m leaving."

"Where, Eddie-bear? And so late? You can’t leave me like this." Sonia said as her son came into the living room. "And dressed like that? You look like a bad boy, I don’t like it."

"That’s my usual style, Ma. It’s only 10 pm and I’m going to Bill’s. Don’t wait for me and don’t panic. And yes, I took my medicine with me and my insulin just in case. See you, Ma."

A 16-year-old Eddie closed the front door and leaned back against it, looking down the street and sighing. He was divinely handsome, he had combed his hair, put glitter on his eyes and mascara which gave him an even more intense look. He had put on a silk shirt with patterns like the rich women's scarves, the colors were soft and pastel like salmon, beige, yellow or baby blue but it contrasted with his lame bomber and his slightly tanned and brilliant skin. With that, he had put some necklaces and he also let see his chest. He was wearing his white low converses and black skinny ripped jeans. He took a puff from his inhaler and looked at his bike lying on the ground. He turned his head away and began to walk. He took out his airpods and launched one of his Daily Mix on Spotify, he closed his eyes at Alphaville's Forever Young.

It is never easy to leave this house with a mother as unbearable as mine. In fact, I lied. I’m not going to go to Bill’s, it would be too much of a detour. We’ll meet at the party. I preferred to walk because when I drink, I don’t take the road because...

All the times he passed out, in the middle of the road completely drunk, kept coming to his mind as a nightmare.

You got it, anyway. I know, you're surprised that I drink, but alcohol is pretty much the same as my meds. Except for beer, I hate beer.

Eddie was quietly walking around, dancing, listening to Rubberband Man from the Spinners, and clearly living his best life. When a noisy car because of the music made itself heard more and more as it passed by. The passengers listened to Dang! of Mac Miller and that made Eddie smile, he loved Mac Miller.

"Oh my god, stop the car." exclaimed Beverly. "I said stop the car, Betty."

"Why ?" Betty asked, slowing down.

"We just passed Eddie Kaspbrak!" said Ben looking in through the back window.

"Oh my God! I think he was dead." Betty laughed.

"Shut up. You should be the one to die, Ripsom." Ben replied.

Eddie walked in front of them, not paying attention.

"Yo, the comeback!" yelled Beverly what pulled Eddie out of his music.

He turned to her and looked at her with a smile. She had a big smile and he leaned towards her.

"It’s good to see you again, we missed you." she said in all sincerity.

Ben nodded, which made Eddie smile, he almost had tears in his eyes. His best friends had not forgotten him.

"Are you being dropped somewhere?" Betty Ripsom asked.

"Well, thank you !"

Eddie waved to him and Ben opened the back door. He got into beautiful Betty's Volvo and Bev turned to him.

"What the hell are you listening to? Certainly not the New Kids On The Block." She said looking at Ben who shook his head negatively by squinting his eyes.

Eddie looked at his iPhone 8, Rubberband Man was finished, he pouted at the next song.

"London Calling." he answered hesitantly.

"Perfect."

The music started in the car, all four began to jam in the car while singing.

The party was already in full swing when I arrived with the others. Stan’s house was shining from the outside and eclipsing all the other houses, it was beautiful to see. From the inside, it looked like it was going to explode. In every room, chaos. A kind of stifling heat emanated as Megan Thee Stallion’s Hot Girl Summer filled the house. The minute Stan’s eyes crossed mine, he left Patricia for my arms. It was nice, it wasn’t every day that Staniel gave you a hug.

"Oh, fuck, Edward Kaspbrak himself, that's crazy, I .. I'm so happy to see you!" Stan shouted in his arms. Stan held him so tight that Eddie felt he was going to choke him. He must have been a little drunk. He was wearing a stretch short-sleeved shirt in washed jeans with black pants and chelsea boots. It was divine.

He had always been, it was Stan, he could afford it. He was smart, mature, funny, an excellent counselor, the mom of the group and he also organized the best parties in high school. How having money is really cool.

"Hey everyone! Look who’s back! To Eddie!" shouted Bev while lifting up her shot of tequila in the air.

The people present in the room did the same and repeated these two words at the same time. Bill raised his glass in my direction, he gave me a big smile and I was a little embarrassed. Everyone drank their glasses. Bev gave me a shot of tequila, everyone was looking at me now. It was weird. Being the center of attention is clearly not my stuff. But, I drank that shot and after that, everyone screamed for joy. Bev gave me a hug, then Mike just added himself to the hug, then Bill and then Stan. The Losers were together and I could clearly hear Billie Eilish’s Bellyache in my head.

---

The hotel was rather classy, the room too, thought Richie. He did not know that places like this existed in Derry. The chosen one was therefore fortunate. When he returned from a room that served as a kitchen with two glasses of champagne. Richie looked at him carefully, he liked to sleep with older men, but he never imagined that Butch Bowers was that kind of man.

Thank you." he said, looking at the man standing in front of him.

"Your face is familiar to me, have we ever seen each other?" Butch asked, looking at Richie.

Later, Riche told me that at the moment he wanted to say yes. He really should have done it.

"Not that I remember."

Butch nodded and drank his glass of champagne.

Richie had said he was 18, technically he was not lying, he was actually going to have them. The knowledge. And Richie was consenting.

Butch watched Richie.

"We will not fuck, you're too young."

Richie nodded, he avoided swallowing.

"I envy your generation, however. When I see you, I see two life choices."

He stroked Richie's cheek, then his lips with his thumb. Richie was looking at him almost religiously. There was a kind of tension in the room. They were not going to sleep together, but it was almost as if. In a parallel dimension, it was happening.

"You can leave, live an extremely beautiful life elsewhere, be fully yourself, find love, or you can stay here and end up like me, hanging out in fancy hotels." Butch continued looking at Richie's eyes.

"Both choices are possible." retorted Richie.

Butch's thumb sank into Richie's mouth.

"If only I could, I'd smash you." he said in a low voice.

Richie closed his eyes. He could not really say what he was looking for in this kind of completely barge plan. But there was so much he was looking for. One was definitely that special bond he had once bonded with a unique person in his life. When both made leave of this vocal flirtation, this visual fuck. Richie put California by Lana Del Rey in his ears. 

He looked at the door of the closed bathroom because the chosen one was taking a shower, he must have met someone before him and shoot his shot. Richie looked at his phone and left the room without making a noise. Once outside the hotel, he lit a cigarette. He took a few steps to his bike, when the song ended, the cigarette was too. He changed his song and went straight to Stan's house.

And there. The evening went fucking nuts.

The huge stairs in Stan's house were flooded and mobilized by people kissing, drinking or whatever. The music was in full swing, Eddie did not know the song, but he would have sworn it was one of the songs that Mike composed during his free time. He pushed people a bit to pass and went to the nearest toilet. He closed the door and looked at himself in the mirror before taking a breath of his ventoline. He kept looking in his bag with a tiny vial of white powder inside. There was almost nothing, but it did not matter because Eddie knew it was extremely strong. He spread it on a small spatula attached to his keychain which he had disinfected before and sniffed everything. He ran a hand through his hair and left the room. The sensations becoming stronger, his brain seemed to be reviving.

Blackbear’s Hot Girl Bummer burst into his ears. Suddenly, the world around him seemed to be totally out of sync with him. He almost lost his balance. Standing on the wall, clinging to people, Eddie laughed. The world revolved around him and he danced on the music that filled his brain.

All you need to know is that there are several versions of what happened tonight. It all depends on who tells you the story and... I’m not necessarily the most reliable narrator for this evening. But what I can assure you is that Bowers screwed up.

Bowers had been drinking since before with the party. He spent the night looking for Beverly and she wasn’t that hard to find she was in the Uris pool. Even wet, she was still the most beautiful girl of the party. She made a fairly simple make up. You’d think she had nothing if you didn’t know the basics of makeup. She was having fun with Betty and Audra Phillips, Bill’s ex, by doing a water fight and singing along on to Russ’s Do It Myself. And who knows why, Bowers as the fragile man that he is, wanted to break the moment.

"Slut!" he shouted as he reached the terrace.

He pointed to Beverly who turned to him.

"Yes ?" she replied, with a great deal of irony, a smile on her lips.

Everyone laughed and scolded Beverly's name. Bowers turned speechless. Beverly's smile widens.

"Well then, 2 minutes 30 lost his big mouth?" she said, coming out of the water and facing Bowers. "That is what I thought."

Everyone was watching the confrontation carefully. The first one since Beverly dumped Bowers and announced that it was all just a bet between her and Stan.

"Shut the fuck up, you only suck anyway."

"How could you know that since I would never suck you Henry Bowers? Now, please stop humiliating yourself in public. Go back to Greta Keene and forget about me, okay."

Bowers wanted to fight back but Beverly pushed him into the water and Georgie grabbed his leg to make it easier for him to fall. Everyone shouted and laughed. Stanley stood up and turned away from Mike, Bill and Eddie and apologized to see what was going on with Beverly.

"Really ?" He asked.

"You'll pay me Losers." he said as he stepped out of the pool and back inside.

Losers: 1. Bowers: 0. The school year is starting well.

Bill and Mike were laughing and Eddie smiled at Beverly.

It was at that moment that they concluded. The funny thing is that Bill, when he's alcoholic, totally loses his stuttering. So it was amazing to hear him speak clearly to Mike, especially when it was a rim job. I would have preferred not to be here to hear that. But I'm sure I heard a "I love you Mikey" so finally it was worth it.

"Everything's okay, bro?" asked Mike, noticing his presence again.

"Yeah.. Yeah, that’s fine... Glad to see you two are okay." he said, smiling and watching Bill blush.

At the same time, there was another one for whom things were going well. Ben Hanscom. Ben was playing truth or dare in one of the upstairs rooms with several of the Cheerios like Myra Stonehart or some of the guys from our class. Normally, truth or dare was the game we used to play when we were playing between us only, but here, it turned into a conversation about sex. And Ben Hanscom wasn’t a pro on the subject.

"What are you really virgin?" asked one of the guys in the discussion. "And do not say that a pipe, that counts."

"It counts." retorted Myra.

"You know nothing about it Myra. You're the one who wants to fuck Eddie Kaspbrak while everyone knows he's gay and clearly not interested."

Myra looked up at the skies with a grin.

"Who are you saving yourself for, man?" asked another one of the guys.

Beverly Marsh.

"No one. I’m just waiting for the right moment." Ben replied.

"Like, now’s not a good time?" asked another cheerleader. "If, I asked you to sleep with me tonight, what would you say?"

Ben blinked several times at Anna’s question and remained speechless.

Of course, Ben is an eternal romantic. He writes rose water's poems, appreciates courteous love stories and is much stronger when it comes to putting his thoughts on paper than saying it out loud. But, Ben Hanscom was definitely not a coward. He was just a virgin in a society where we wanted boys to breathe and eat porn all day long.

Anna leaned back to Ben.

"You’re super cute, Ben. You used to be before you started working out. In 5 years you’ll be a sex bomb and I want my cut now." she said in a rather serious tone.

The whole room was breathless, Anna was one of the sexiest girls in high school. Ben nodded softly and Anna smiled.

"Everybody clear this room now!"

---

While Ben surely lived what would be one of the most memorable evenings of his life. Richie Tozier had arrived at the party, and I was sprawled on that couch by the pool watching Mike and Bill be in love. Shit, I want what they have. At the same time, Beverly was playing in the pool with Audra and Betty, but you already know the rest.

"By the way, Eddie, you owe me 120 bucks." Mike said looking at his friend.

"Yeah, but I thought our friendship and the fact that I'm alive made up for that." Eddie replied.

"If you say so." Bill replied.

Stan came to join them.

"Frankly, Eddie, I missed you, we missed you all, it was not the same this summer without you, your drug stories make me feel bad."

"Aw Stan, don’t be sentimental."

"No, that’s not it. I love you, man, but... you really scared us." he said, taking a break before turning to Eddie.

Mike and Bill nodded in agreement with Stan.

"We thought you were dead. And seriously, Eddie, I’ve seen a lot of people die, but I would never agree to see you die for that. I’ve seen a lot of people die, but not people like you." Mike added. "I don’t know exactly what’s going on with your brain, but I can tell you one thing, drugs and getting high is not your solution."

A blank settled in between these four. He was not unpleasant, on the contrary. It was peaceful. They watched Beverly and Bowers fight.

"There’s one thing I remember... it happened when I was nine years old, shortly after my father was diagnosed. We were told that he was going to get better, I mean, that he had a chance of getting better. So, we celebrated it, we went to New York, seven hours back and forth. One of the best moments of my life. I told my dad that when I grew up, I would go to New York and live there."

Eddie’s voice started shaking and Stan gently shook his hand.

"Then we came home and I remember... that night, I slept with my parents and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. As if there was no oxygen in the world. My parents called the ambulance thinking I had a violent asthma attack. At the hospital, they gave me opium. Liquid. To calm me down and... then I thought, 'Okay, so that’s what I need'. Not mom’s medicine. That. Because all of a sudden, it was as if everything had become simpler. The noise, the voices in my head, everything was gone. Everything. Being in my head wasn’t a problem anymore. Four years later, he passed away and the asthma attacks that were actually anxiety and panic attacks continued. But that’s okay. I found a way to survive. I have you, guys. I have my psychiatrist. My medecine. Maybe it will kill me..."

Stan kissed Eddie's hand in support then got up and went to see the mess with Bev.

"Hey! Don’t say that!" yelled Bill slowly to Eddie before giving him a pat on his head.

"Touch me again in that ugly mustard buffalo shirt and I’ll kill you, Big Bill." Eddie laughed.

The three friends focused on the story of Bev and Bowers. Then Eddie stood up to give his best friends more privacy. Bowers had stormed into Stan’s apartment in the kitchen to get drunk. Blur’s Girls and Boys was in full swing throughout the house and the first thing Bowers did was not to drink, but to sweep a few bottles here and there with the back of his arm. Eddie and Stan followed Bowers wanting to throw him out of the party and Beverly Marsh had left the pool to annoy Mike and Bill that she had dragged inside after getting dressed.

"Get out of the kitchen!" screamed Bowers scaring everyone. " Get the fuck out."

The people around him backed back carefully to avoid getting a piece of glass, while watching Bowers lose it. Richie dug himself into a corner of the kitchen staring at Bowers totally destabilized by his behavior. Eddie, Stan, Mike, Bill and Bev entered the crowd.

"What's your fucking problem?" he said looking at Richie.

Richie looked at the sides and then looked at Bowers, he didn’t know what to say.

"Why are you here?" he says, moving forward and sticking to him. "Huh? You can't speak ? Aren't you Trashmouth Tozier for nothing?"

At the Trashmouth name agreement, Eddie’s attention got bigger. Shit, what is Richie doing here ?

"Can I know who invited you? You don’t even have any friends here. Everyone forgot you."

"Listen, uh. I don’t want any trouble, I just want to spend a chill night in my corner." Richie said, looking him in the eye.

He didn’t even blink.

"People like you are not here to stay in their corners. You are a problem here, you see, nobody answers. Nobody!" he shouted at Richie.

Richie grabbed the first kitchen knife and pointed it at Bowers, who backed away.

"You think you scare me? You think you scare me, Bowers? You know what we do to sons of cops like you in California?" yelled Richie in turn as he moved towards Bowers. "Back the fuck up!"

"I was fucking kidding. I was fucking kidding !"

"I’m not afraid of you, Bowers."

"W-put the knife down, okay? Put it down! I was laughing."

"You want to hurt me? You have no idea who I am." Richie yelled when he put the knife down.

At the same time he cut his hand without intentionally doing with one of the glass pieces of broken bottles. The spectators cried out in complete shock at this spectacle.

"You see. I absolutely don’t feel pain."

"Are you fucking crazy or something, Loser !?" added Bowers.

Bowers stood in his trembling corner, everyone watching the scene between confusion, admiration, shock and total chaos.

"No, I’m Richie Tozier. And it’s good to be home. Great party tho, Stan the man !" he said while smiling before leaving the room.

Oh yeah... fuck me.

Eddie quietly left his friends after that.

Ben came back down the stairs and saw Richie leave the party in fury.

"What did I miss?" Ben asked Mike.

"Where were you, man? You missed the craziest thing ever !" Mike asked Ben.

"I took care of my business."

Mike stares at Ben not fully understanding what Ben meant.

"I’ve lost my virginity."

"What? With whom?" asked Mike.

"Anna Addams."

"Wow. The Anna Addams?" he said with a smile. Ben confirmed by nodding his head, then Mike took him in his arms. "Well! Congratulations! How was it?"

"You should ask her."

Mike laughed and joined Stan in the kitchen. Stan gave Bowers a broom, cleaning supplies and a shovel.

"Clean up, or I’m going to get Richie." Stan said with a black look and a cold, stern voice.

Bowers took them and resigned himself. He glanced at Mike, Mike supported him, and Bowers resigned himself.

"I will stay in case you botch the job. Oh, after that, you and your friends will leave the party. Thank you." added Stan who was joined by Patricia, his girlfriend.

---

Eddie came out of the Uris house looking for Richie Tozier. He found him quite quickly getting his bike back.

"Hm... is everything all right?" Eddie asked while watching Richie.

Oh my God.

"Uh, yeah, it's good, don’t worry, m... Eddie Spaghetti?"

Richie smiled and blinked several times before moistening his lips. His smile came back, but this time in a corner one. He watched Eddie attentively, capturing every detail of his face. His hair was slightly unscrewed, his mascara had dripped a little and mixed with the glitter on his eyes. His pink lips, his freckles, his smile. Richie hugged him.

Wow. I think I’m getting hard.

"Yes yes, it’s m... Hey, don’t call me that!"

"You look good. It just smelled like trouble in here."

Eddie opened his eyes and began to blush slightly.

"Thank you, you’re not bad either... Yes! Yes, I understand your action. It’s just what you did... It was deadly classy."

The two stared at each other for a moment. Richie noticed the necklace on Eddie’s red balloon pendant.

"You still have it! That’s so cool."

"Oh the necklace? Yes! I’m not leaving it. You too, from what I see! You... you’re going somewhere?"

"At my place." Richie replied.

"I.. Can I come?"

"Yeah, of course! But your mother ? How is she since the last time I fucked her ?" Richie asked while mocking Eddie.

"Fuck my mother."

Yeah, fuck my mom. I found back the only boy I’ve ever loved in my entire life, looking like a fucking greek god and I still have to think about my mom ? Not today, Ma, not today.

The two took the road on Richie’s bike. Bowie’s Heroes passed on Eddie’s little JBL bluetooth speaker. Then, Richie suggested him to put Eddy de Preto's Fête de Trop. He was thrilled, clinging to Richie’s waist and resting his head on his back. He had strangely waited for this moment all week. It may not have happened the way he hoped, but Eddie was appeased.

Once they entered the Tozier house, they both went up to Richie’s room. Not much had changed compared to before, it was perhaps closer and more harmonious. Richie undressed and changed into pajamas, Eddie did his best not to look and Richie laughed at him. He gave her one of his sweaters that turned out to be too big for him, but anyway, he loved it and Richie loved seeing Eddie like that. He was just so...

"Cute. You’re so cute, Eds!"

"Stop it, won't you ?!"

Eddie rushed to clean Richie’s wound and apply a bandage with his first aid kit. Richie teased him by calling him Doctor K. and it was like Richie never left Derry. Richie had always been there somewhere and Eddie had seen him become a young man. Once the wound was cleaned and dressed. They took off their makeup and then the two men went face to face in Richie’s bed. They didn’t really need to talk to each other to say all the things they had on their hearts. They both laughed and Eddie snuggled in Richie’s arms. Nothing has changed. They still liked sleeping together. They still loved each other.

Mike, Bill and Georgie went home to the Denbroughs, Georgie fell asleep in the car, but Bill took him to his room quietly and then brought Mike in, then in his room where for the first time they spent the night talking when they were only the two of them.

Bev had gone home in the early morning and managed to miraculously avoid her father. She took off her makeup and changed her clothes at Stan’s after helping her clean everything up.

Ben had slept at Stan’s with Anna and had also cleaned everything with Betty, Patricia, Myra and others who had planned a sleepover at his house.

Bowers didn’t go home after cleaning up Stan’s kitchen, he went to Hockstetter’s to get drunk until the morning. Humiliated, uprooted, and completely high. He was severely taken back by his father and mother but especially by his father and went to his bedroom having already found his future victim for the year.

The next day, Richie and Eddie woke up early. Richie stopped by to brush his teeth and wash himself because Eddie forced him to do it and then Eddie did the same. Once back in Richie’s room, Eddie stared at him as he sat on his bed.

"I have an idea." he said softly.

"What?" Richie asked while stroking his hair softly.

"Wanna get high?"

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Can you be more specific on why you like Arya and Sansa? So many people like Arya for being strong and fierce, but for some reasons so many hate Sansa for what she was like in the earlier seasons. Can you give specific instances why you like both of them? And why not Daenerys? Thanks! (I'm just really curious, please indulge me :) )

I’m going to talk about Dany first (and I’m sticking to the show here, though I have read the books, but they’re never getting finished, let’s be real), and then I'll put my thoughts on Sansa and Arya in another post (hey, you asked, so I’m delivering) because otherwise this will go on forever and it’s cleaner this way. Putting a ‘read more’ here because this is long (lol I’m at work I should be working)

To preface, I would not dislike Daenerys as much as I do if she didn’t want to be queen. I’ll touch on this when I talk about Arya, but I appreciate characters who have the self-awareness required to know who and what they are. Since Daenerys does want to rule Westeros, I have so many issues.

I also think the eighth season is going to see her turning on most of the people she’s currently allied with and I think the catalyst for that is the discovery that Jon is the legitimate child of Rhaegar and Lyanna, and therefore his claim to the throne supersedes hers. I’ll gladly admit that I’m wrong if I am, but right now I don’t think I am. Here’s why.

1) She is an ineffective ruler

After Dany liberated the slave cities of Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen, she stayed to rule and did a terrible job of it. Nobody in particular was better off, the majority of the slaves she freed were homeless and scraping for food in mess halls, and she killed elders who had spoken out against slavery without even listening to what any of them had to say. She has the mind for conquering, not for ruling.

(side note: why does she even want to be queen? It’s something she just seemed to jump on in season two without ever reasoning it out, and from there on in it’s like an obsession that has grown inside her. Now she says she wants to make the world a better place but she hasn’t the skills to do it. It should be enough for her to liberate oppressed societies and allow somebody qualified to fix them. But it’s not.)

The truth is, Meereen saw no real improvement until after Dany skipped town on Drogon, because Tyrion had the idea to replace the slave trade with actual trade. He made changes that impacted the city’s economy and allowed its residents to start supporting themselves, so of course, the slavers attacked just as Dany came back, at which point her bright idea was to decimate an entire armada when she needed ships. Tyrion had to talk her out of it. Which brings me to her next point.

2) She requires constant babysitting

It’s ironic to me that Tyrion told Cersei that “the difference” between Cersei and Daenerys is that Dany knows herself well enough to hire advisors who tell her not to do dumb, impulsive things, firstly because that is such a low bar, Tyrion! There are people out there (Sansa) who do not require that kind of monitoring! Secondly because Cersei is far more self-aware than Dany.

Cersei knows that the things she does are bad and does them anyway because fuck it, she knows she wants power for power’s sake. Dany has such a narrow view of justice that actually thinks she’s being righteous when she burns people to death (more on that later) and that is the most dangerous mindset a leader can have. Compare that, if you will, to Sansa, who quite sensibly told Arya that chopping off heads might feel good but that’s not the way to make people work together. Jorah, Tyrion and Jon have all had to speak out against Dany’s more violent predilections and she’s fast running out of people she wants to listen to. She and Tyrion are certainly hanging on by a thread. Which brings me to my next point.

3) She mistreats her own Hand

The relationship between Dany and Tyrion absolutely reeks of Aerys and Tywin, their respective fathers, who were the best of friends until Aerys’ jealousy and paranoia forced them to opposite sides of a bloody war. Dany is all too happy to take credit for Tyrion’s best ideas when they work (and he is happy to let her) but as soon as one of his plans go wrong she whirls on him and berates him like he’s a piece of trash. Everything’s his fault when a plan goes wrong.

When he brought up the matter of the succession she accused him of plotting her death with his brother, which not only is batshit insane but proves that Daenerys gives far less of a shit about the future of Westeros than she claims to, because if she cared that much, she’d care about planning to carry on the legacy she wants to build. She can’t seem to forgive Tyrion for the heinous crime of…loving his siblings? Trying to broker the most peaceful end to the war? Not wanting his brother to die?

Honestly, her treatment of Tyrion is one of the most telling aspects of her character and I am aghast that nobody seems to be talking about it.

4) Like all of the maddest Targaryens before her, she gets off on burning people

This one isn’t subtle at all. Sorry to drop the intellectual veneer for a moment but she fucking loves that shit. It doesn’t bother her a whit to watch people scream as they’re being burned alive. She takes pleasure in burning people, you can see the satisfaction on her face, and a good leader should never take pleasure in something like that.

(FYI people like to mention how Sansa smiled when Ramsay’s dogs ate him when I make this point and to that I blow a raspberry. That was her personal moment of justice against her rapist and abuser, not the lord of some house who wouldn’t submit to her, there is no fair comparison)

Dany was smiling like a satisfied cat when she burned down the temple of the Dosh Khaleen and killed everybody inside it, which was something she did to seize power, by the way. She didn’t do it to stick it to a bunch of misogynists, though I’m sure that was an added bonus. She did the exact same thing Cersei did to the Sept of Baelor and for the exact same reasons, yet only one of them is painted as a villain by the viewing public even though you can argue that Cersei was also sticking it to misogynists when she killed the High Sparrow. The only reason for that is that Dany was given humble origins while the narrative told us that Cersei was bad from the very beginning.

Theon is still beating himself up for killing and burning those two farm boys — as he should. Stannis burned his daughter and everyone was horrified. Jon was so repulsed to watch Mance Rayder burn that he defied Stannis and shot him in the heart. How many times is the show going to have to tell us that burning people alive is a terrible act of evil before people stop cheering Dany on for it? When Ned Stark was Lord of Winterfell, he understood and felt the weight of executing a man. Jon feels the weight of it, too, as we’ve seen on a couple of occasions. Sansa clearly thought long and hard about executing Petyr — that’s what her moment of reflection on the battlements was meant to show us. Dany just… doesn’t care. I think she cared a bit when she had Daario execute Mossador, but I can’t think of any other occasion where she has been directly responsible for a death and been remotely bothered by it.

So. yes.

I think the reason a lot of people – and in particular a lot of women – support Daenerys is because she has a girl power narrative. She does have a girl power narrative, it’s true, but that is not a good enough reason to support a character who on so many occasions has proven herself to be unqualified for the job she wants, not to mention bordering on dangerously unhinged and increasingly paranoid. In that sense I think her season 1 narrative was genius, because her origins and the way in which she started to gain power (as well as her gender) has granted her a kind of automatic forgiveness for behaviours that several male characters – and Cersei, most importantly, because she also has a girl power narrative (and she and Dany are two peas in a pod) but the show told us she was a baddie from episode one – would be dragged through the mud for. And I’m sorry, but it’s not good enough for me. I’m not going to support a powerful female character just because she’s a powerful female character who did some good things once. Powerful women can be good or bad.

Some other points re: Daenerys

The dragons are weapons of mass destruction and need to be killed. They’re nukes with wings. She’s burned her own people with those monsters because fire doesn’t fucking differentiate. Sorry not sorry.

The Targaryens are literally GRRM’s interpretation of the Aryan race. It’s practically in their name.

“I have tried to make it explicit in the novels that the dragons are destructive forces, and Dany has found that out as the tried to rule the city of Meereen and be queen there. She has the power to destroy, she can wipe out entire cities, and we certainly see that in Fire and Blood, we see the dragons wiping out entire armies, wiping out towns and cities, destroying them, but that doesn’t necessarily enable you to rule – it just enables you to destroy.” – George R R Martin, folks.

One of the show’s directors, Jack Bender, made a reference to Hitler when talking about her. He said we should be “horrified” by her. No shit, Jack. No shit.

“Do you wonder if the gods ever get lonely?” Just… this line. Get a grip, woman.

[aion-rsa]

The 100 Season 7 Episode 16: The Last War

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This THE 100 review contains spoilers

The 100 Season 7 Episode 16

Ultimately, The 100 turned in a series finale that’s better than the back half of its final season, but not by a whole lot. The use of two fan-favorite characters (Lexa and Abby), and a last-minute twist, are responsible for much of the emotionally satisfying material. So much of the rest, including the saber-rattling and Sheidheda skulking around, feel like a waste of precious time, plot missteps from earlier in the season that long overstayed their welcome.

The most successful moments were based in the characters we’ve invested in for so long. Octavia’s jaded takes on war, culminating in her speech. Raven holding it down for absolutely everyone. Murphy and Emori grieving what they thought were one another’s deaths. Miller and Jackson’s reunion and dancing juxtaposed with Emori and Murphy’s dire goodbye was a beautiful way to let us say goodbye to those characters, because even if everybody lives, we’re still saying goodbye.

This episode spends quite a bit of time on the concept of judging Clarke’s actions as a proxy for all of humanity. While that has always come with the territory of the show, it feels like an extremely reductive way of viewing seven seasons with a strong ensemble cast and far more robust storytelling, yet it’s the one the finale imposes upon us. Clarke was right about one thing: getting Raven back in the mix should have been Plan A, not cleanup.

It’s far too easy to judge an entire show based on whether you like the main character, even moreso when that character is a woman or girl. It feels odd for The 100, the same show that quietly gave us so many accomplished women and girls as leaders, to spend so many of its final minutes on this. Even with Raven and Octavia course-correcting, the series finale of the show still comes down to a question of Clarke’s choices, and whether we think they’re justified or not. Surely after all this time, The 100 could have aimed higher than that?

Up until the reveal that Clarke’s friends returned to Earth for her, the episode has almost no emotional heft outside of Emori’s fate. Seeing Indra vanquish Sheidheda for her mother was nice, but long overdue considering we’d watched her fail to pull the trigger so many times before. Raven’s pleading on behalf of humanity had more punch because it was with Abby, but it came so late in the episode and was so brief.. 

One of the more promising opportunities was Clarke’s conversation with her judge. While it’s not actually a long-awaited reunion with Lexa, it’s recognition that Lexa was Clarke’s greatest love, and perhaps her greatest teacher. I appreciate that the higher being pushed Clarke to justify some of her choices, though she mostly let Clarke slide on her intent to murder her own child.

Continuing this season’s theme, there were a few beats we never got to unpack because The 100 preferred to go for surprise (also a problem during season 5, which has more similarities than I’d like to this final season.) Octavia stopping the war was something only she could do, but rather than seeing the faith and growth it took for Blodreina to lay down her arms, the moment was clipped. Clarke killing Cadogan was a badass moment, but shooting him at that point in his test meant we never got to see what it looked like when he had to respond to the higher consciousness, who was in the process of grilling him about giving up love when Clarke takes him down. Similarly, we learned the mystery of what Becca saw, that she was asked to take the test and declined. But there wasn’t time to consider what that actually means.

Did Emori transcend? Her body was dead but her consciousness was alive, and we saw her orb swirl around John’s and transcend. Is she in his mind? Apparently she was in the final scene, but she was hard to spot, even on re-watch. This feels like an odd loose end to leave hanging and not make more explicit, especially after spending so much time this season building up these two possible deaths. Whether she lived or said goodbye in the mindspace, both could have been satisfying, but the in-between space feels accidental or even thoughtless.

In the end, it got me to see all these characters back together on Earth and building again. While they didn’t transcend, it’s their own kind of heaven to be together and to create a life that’s (presumably) free from violence and war. It doesn’t hold up to much scrutiny of course, but when I think of the show from seasons one and two that I fell in love with, it’s the final scenes on the shore that I’ll recall, if I think of the finale at all. 

More likely, I’ll think of Octavia’s time on Sky Ring, Indra’s relationship with her daughters and how she let them teach her as much as she taught them, Gabriel’s humanity and eternal sense of curiosity, and the way Murphy and Emori changed so much, but always back to one another. How much I enjoyed meeting Hope, how Diyoza evolved beyond my wildest imagination, Raven’s strength and how she owned her mistakes, and so much more from so many seasons gone by and characters long gone. And how much this little show that people ignored or made fun of had to say about grief, trauma, colonialism, found family, and what we do to survive. 

May we meet again. 

Other notes…

The high power mind palace place looks like the galaxy version of Rainbow Road but a lot less fun. Carved into the wood are Cadogan and his daughter’s initials, plus “Ben was here,” and JR + JR in a heart, which I assume was Jason Rothenberg’s tribute to his wife Joy. Any idea what these mean, or spot any others? Let us know in the comments.

They still have not explained how Earth even exists right now. Are they back in time? Is this one magic? Are we in a multiverse? Alright, I know, I give up…It just feels relevant since a spinoff is happening on Earth at another time to know if that’s how Earth has suddenly cropped up all fine and dandy again.

Can we just take a moment to appreciate how incredibly long Raven’s to do list was during this episode? Did she time travel? She must be exhausted.

War is bad and stuff, but hell yeah O in her OG Trikru war paint! Linctavia forever.

I just want it on the record that I’m bummed out that Jordan’s plan did not involve spraying algae on all the invisible Disciples.

One thing I do appreciate is that The 100 continued to reckon with the doctrine of jus drein, jus draun and various aspects of Grounder culture until the very end.

The contemporary music for The 100 has always been used sparingly and generally to great effect. Here we got a heavier hand than usual, but I think it still worked. The cover of REM’s “The One I Love” had the sort of intensity needed for the battlefield, though it seems they were using a very literal interpretation of the title. The Vance Joy song Miller/Jackson and Memori dance to felt like a lighter touch, especially when was filtered through some brain waves. Using U2 for the final scenes is the perfect Dad Rock move from Jroth, though “Bad” is somehow both surprising and on the nose. (Were they not allowed to use “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” or “Where the Streets Have No Name”?)

It is low-key hilarious that Murphy is the first person Clarke assumes might not have transcended

Clarke not getting to go to the Promised Land is very Moses of her, which sort of works because Clarke is very Old Testament.

Birth control suddenly being handled feels like a real gift but also a weird thing for the Lexified higher being to mention, since this show has very much ignored birth control for seven whole seasons.

The post The 100 Season 7 Episode 16: The Last War appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[tigereye771]

New Year, New Beginnings (Part 13/?)

Title:  New Year, New Beginnings

Part: 13/?

Pairing:  Jon/Sansa (Modern AU)

Notes:  Thank you very much for your patience in this next part.  As I mentioned a while back, my work situation changed dramatically a few months ago.  My boss passed away unexpectedly and I’ve been acting as the Interim Head AND doing my regular job, so as someone said, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends.  Literally the last few months have been a blur as I’ve tried to handle two jobs and do an enormous amount of traveling (right now, I’m sitting in a hotel room about to post this).  Fortunately, the workload, at least the travel bit, has eased a little so I’ve been able to catch my breath and update this story.  I hope you enjoy.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12]

“Ms. Targaryen directed that your deliveries be put in the blue guest room.”

It took a moment for Jon to realize that the servant was talking about his purchases from yesterday. He had just walked into the house after Tormund had dropped him off at the front door, the bigger man saying he would take the car back to the garage and wishing his friend good night.  Jon had been ready to just drop into bed, feeling a little tired, but satisfied with himself, believing, despite Mance’s last minute improvising, that none of the Starks were any wiser to the fact that he had arranged for them to “find” that particular car for that very good price. Though, after watching Sansa and Arya tag-team haggle Mance, Jon wondered if his help was really even needed at all.

Jon nodded in acknowledgement of the servant’s information and started up the stairs to begin sorting out the various packages.  As he passed Ygritte’s room, not realizing that he no longer thought of that room as “theirs”, the door flew open.  Jon looked up in surprise.  When he left that morning she had not been around and he was not certain she would be here at the house this evening.  

She was dressed in jeans and sweater, not one of her expensive and somewhat revealing dresses she had taken to wearing for a night out.  Her feet were bare and her hair loose around her shoulders.  For a moment, Jon felt something clench in his chest as he remembered another time she had been dressed this way, in jeans and a simple sweater.  It was a complicated time as he pretended to be something he was not, but also a simpler time when their feelings seemed to be purer and more understandable.  In that moment, Jon felt as though they were back in The Gift and it was just the two of them in Ygritte’s cozy, rundown apartment.

“You didn’t meet me for lunch,” she said, not in an accusatory tone, but in a voice laced with hurt and a bit of resignation.

Jon felt a stab of guilt. He had said they would lunch together, but he completely forgot, so wrapped up in his plans to solve Sansa’s car issue, and feeling quite pleased with himself with what he thought was a rather clever idea.  If he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t thought of Ygritte at all today.

“I’m sorry, Ygritte,” Jon sighed.  “You have every right to be angry with me.  I just forgot and it was thoughtless of me to do so.  It’s just the Starks needed-“

“Jon!  I need you!” Ygritte cried out.  She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “Look.  I get it. You’re happy to be reunited with them and you want to help them out.  That’s great. I don’t expect you to do anything less. That’s just the type of guy you are, but Jon, I need you sometimes too!”

“Ygritte, they’re just kids! They need someone older to-“

“Jon!  Why did you bring me here if you were just going to ignore me?”

That stopped him short. He had been ignoring her, but not intentionally.  He had been dealing with his own jumble of confused emotions as he dealt with a new family and realization that he was a Targaryen.  It was not Ygritte’s fault.  Jon’s way of dealing with such life changing news was to shut himself off and ignore everyone else around him so he could focus on the issue in front of him. It was selfish and he could see how Ygritte could be feeling lost and alone because she was.  She knew  noone here and the few who did know her, Tormund and Edd, didn’t particularly care for her nor she them.

He reached out to gently put his hands on her shoulders.  “You’re right and I’m sorry.  Let’s-, let’s just wipe the slate clean and start over.  How would you like to meet the Starks?  I made plans to go to the movies with Bran and Arya on Wednesday. Come with us.”

He saw a flash of irritation on Ygritte’s face but it was gone in a moment and then she smiled at him. “And we’ll have dinner tomorrow and Tuesday night together?”

Jon nodded. “Yeah.  It’ll be good to talk to someone not associated with TI.  We’ll even go out so we’re not having dinner here.”

Ygritte’s smile widened and she hugged Jon who returned the hug warmly.  ���Stay with me tonight,” she said softly in his ear.  “Not that we have to do anything.  I just like to feel you next to me and holding me.”

Jon nodded and let her go. He gave her a small smile and walked into her room, not seeing how Ygritte’s face fell slightly.  He didn’t find her request to simply sleep together odd, but she was specific about that and making sure there was no reason for her to disrobe completely in front of Jon.  At least not for a few more days.  The evidence of her rough sex with Ramsey still covered her body.

*/*/*/*/*

Mrs. Mundy, Targaryen Industries’ Executive Office Manager frowned down at the tray of delectable and elegant pastries that Sansa Stark had just set out.  There was nothing wrong with them and for the past two years, Highgarden Café had been supplying TI with the Monday morning catering for the weekly executive staff meeting.  This Monday was no different and despite the fact that this was Rhaegar’s son, Jon’s, a celebrated military hero in his own right, first day, Mrs. Mundy, per orders from Rhaegar himself, had not asked the Highgarden Café to alter the order in any way.

Yet, it was different. More than different, there were bear claws in among the pastries.  Not just any bear claws, but misshaped ones. If Mrs. Mundy were asked, she would say they look more like, well, giant paws.

Mrs. Mundy liked her routine and she liked everything carried out to the letter of her instructions. Not once had those girls at Highgarden ever made a mistake in the TI order, yet here it was staring her boldly in the face.  Three bear claws!  No one here ate bear claws!  It was why Mrs. Mundy expressly asked them to be kept off their order.  And they didn’t even look right.  

Sansa finished setting up the last coffee urn.  Gilly or Margery would come by later to pick up the Café equipment, but Sansa always did the delivery as she made everything fresh that morning.  She turned to smile at Mrs. Mundy but it started to fade when she saw the older woman frowning at her.

“My dear,” Mrs. Mundy began with a slight sniff of disapproval.  “I haven’t had any reason to complain since your little store has been catering these meetings, but I’ve explicitly told you not to bring bear claws, yet I see them here,” she gestured towards the platter on the table, “and I have to say, they are in the most curious shape!  Yet, even in their malformed state, I can tell they are bear claws!”

Sansa flushed.  “Well, I understood there would be some new people at this meeting and I thought someone might-“

“But I have been explicit in my directions,” Mrs. Mundy continued, fluffing herself up like an agitated hen. “I always give you precise orders and I expect them to be carried out.  You cannot go against what a customer wants.”

“No, Mrs. Mundy, but perhaps-“

“This is unacceptable,” the older woman continued, working herself in a righteous state.  She never wanted to go with Highgarden Café, but someone higher up insisted that they be seen as helping to support the neighborhood businesses and they did supply delicious pastries and nothing had gone wrong until now.  Mrs. Mundy had always thought such work should go to one of the larger catering firms and not a small operation run by two girls.

“I don’t expect to be paid for those additional pastries. The entire order is there, I just added three-“

“Unacceptable work, Miss Stark.  I’m afraid we’ll have to reconsider our arrangement.”

Sansa looked at her in shock.  “Just because of three bear claws?  Mrs. Mundy, I’m sorry I-“

“I don’t think there’s more to discuss.  I’ll have to re-evaluate this arrangement,” Mrs. Mundy continued coolly.

“But-,” Sansa began.

“Sansa?”

Both women turned their heads and saw Jon Snow standing there, with Rhaegar and Sam Tarly behind him.

“Sansa,” Jon said coming forward.  “What are you doing here?”

Still in some shock that Mrs. Mundy could pull the TI business from the Café, Sansa could only smile weakly at him.  “Good morning, Jon.”

All eyes were on the couple as they wondered how Jon knew the pretty redhead, Mrs. Mundy’s being especially sharp.

Jon frowned, taking in Sansa’s paler than normal face and the slightly bewildered look in her eyes. “Sansa?  What’s wrong?”

“The Café, it does the catering for the Monday staff meetings,” Sansa replied.  She glanced at Mrs. Mundy.  “Or it used to.”

Jon’s frown deepened. “What do you mean ‘used to’?”

“The order is wrong,” Mrs. Mundy intervened.  “We cannot have mistakes made.”

Jon glanced at the pastries. “What’s wrong with the order?” His eyes suddenly lit up and he leaned more closely to examine the platter.  “Are those-, are those?  Wolf paws?!”

Mrs. Mundy gave him a startled look at also turned to glance at the platter as Sansa smiled faintly.  

“They are.  I used my mother’s recipe.  I remembered how much you loved them and thought you’d like them your first day,” Sansa replied.

Jon gazed at Sansa in wonder and he could feel his throat tightened as he remembered lazy Sunday mornings as Catelyn Stark baked fresh pastries for her family and the lonely foster child they had taken in.  He had loved her “wolf paws”, bear claws that she had shaped into a wolf’s paw to symbolize the direwolf on the family’s crest.  Jon had loved how they tasted and it made him feel more like a part of the Stark family.  Every time he had some big test or some important sporting event or really anything he felt nervous undertaking, Catelyn would bake him wolf paws as a special treat for breakfast.  To Jon, wolf paws were just another way to show him he was loved.

“Thank you, Sansa,” he said softly as he gazed at the lovely young woman before him.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a gentle smile.  Her eyes shifted over to Mrs. Mundy.  “I’m sorry you’re upset about the order, Mrs. Mundy.  I just wanted to make sure Captain Snow had something special on his first day.”

Jon whirled on the older woman and with a touch of his “Captain” voice, he said crisply, “I take it then there’ll be no more talk about canceling business with the Café as Ms. Stark was merely trying to please me?”

Mrs. Mundy stiffened and her jaw became tight.  “Of course not,” she replied.

“Well, well, well, Jon, are you not going to introduce us?” Rhaegar said as he came forward curiously. His son was a military man and used to commanding, but since he had known him, Jon was also unfailing polite and courteous, especially to women.  Yet, Rhaegar had just seen a flash of defensiveness on behalf of this pretty young woman that Jon had never displayed for anyone, not even Ygritte, before. And Jon had called her “Ms. Stark.” She had to be one of the Stark children, yet from how Jon had always referred to them, calling them ‘children’ or ‘kids’, Rhaegar, and more interestingly he was sure Daenerys and Ygritte too, believed they were barely if not quite adults.  Yet, here was a beautiful, young woman at least over twenty.

Jon tore his eyes from Sansa and looked at his father.  He nodded in what seemed to be a reluctant way and said, “Sansa Stark, Rhaegar Targaryen and Samwell Tarly.”

“Charmed and delighted,” Rhaegar said as he took Sansa’s hand and kissed the back of it.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jon stiffen and had to suppress a grin.  Rhaegar didn’t give Sansa her hand back, but clasped it between both of his.  “Jon has talked so much about the Starks that I’ve longed to meet you and your siblings.  Imagine my delight when he told me that you had reconnected.”  He looked soulfully at Sansa.  “But he never said how incredibly lovely you are, my dear Miss Stark.”

Sansa blushed and tried to pull her hand back.  Rhaegar made a show of reluctantly letting her go and noted with delight Jon’s lips thin and his eyes narrow. A very interesting reaction, Rhaegar thought.  The boy is very protective.  

“I echo what my son said,” Rhaegar continued as he looked at Mrs. Mundy.  “The tray of pastries look absolutely fabulous and we’ve only the best and most delicious things from the Highgarden Café.  In fact, I do need some holiday cookies baked for me.  Sugar cookies in various holiday flavors and shapes and colors.  Whatever you see best.  Separated out to two dozen in a box.  Make sure the boxes are festive yet elegant.  We give these boxes of cookies to various business associates.  I’ll need about 500 boxes by the second week of December.  Can you do that?”

Sansa’s jaw dropped and she blinked at Rhaegar for a few seconds before she said.  “I can work up a quote for you, Mr. Targaryen-“

Rhaegar waved his hand dismissively.  “I���m sure you’ll quote a fair price.  Just give Mrs. Mundy a figure and we’ll draw up a contract.  Mrs. Mundy, whatever Miss Stark thinks is a fair price, put that into the agreement.”

Sansa continued to look dazed as Rhaegar smiled winningly at her.  He could see Jon glowering at them.  “Just bring by a sample plate at the end of the week and I’ll let you know what works and what doesn’t.”

“Thank you, Mr. Targ-“

“Rhaegar.”  He positively beamed at her and his eyes danced merrily.

Jon grew more irritated.

“Rhaegar,” Sansa replied with a small smile.

Mrs. Mundy let out a loud sniff.  “Miss Stark, if you will come with me to my office, I’ll give you your check for today and we can discuss details about the new contract.”

“Thank you, again, Mr.-,” Sansa hastily stopped herself and said instead, “Rhaegar.  I’ll be sure to have a sample platter here on Friday morning.” She turned to smile at Sam.  “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk, Sam.”  She turned to Jon.  “Sam comes into the Café for lunch quite often.”

Sam blushed at Sansa’s words and for one moment, Jon had the uncomfortable thought that Sam might be visiting the Café for more than the food.  He looked sharply at his friend and then sidled his eyes over towards Sansa. Jon would have to try to figure out if his suspicions had any merit.  However, Sansa was turning to him now.

“Jon, I hope you like the wolf paws,” she said.  “I remember how mother would bake them for you the mornings before you had a big test or something important for that day.  I just wanted to give you a little of something like that again.”

Jon couldn’t help it, and everyone in the room could see how his face relaxed and softened as he gazed at Sansa.  “Thank you. I’ll call you later,” he said in a soft rumble.

Sansa smiled at him and turned to leave, followed by Mrs. Mundy.  Jon gazed after Sansa until she was long out of sight.  It was only Rhaegar clearing his throat that brought him back to the conference room.

“So, that is one of the Stark ‘children’,” his father drawled out.  “Not very small is she?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jon replied stiffly.  He glanced sharply at his father.  Rhaegar had a well-earned reputation as a womanizer.  Now single, he was often seen in the company of a multitude of beautiful women, some young enough to be his daughter.  Some as young as Sansa.  “She’s not someone you trifle with, Rhaegar,” Jon ground out.  “I won’t stand for something like that.”

“My dear boy,” Rhaegar replied easily.  “I never trifle with women.  I am most upfront and honest with them about the relationship.”

Jon bristled and Sam shifted nervously on his feet.  “I’m serious, Rhaegar.  Sansa has been through a lot in the last few years.  The last thing she needs is some older, rich man stalking her.  I swear, if you try to make her one of your play things, I’ll-“

“Jon, relax,” Rhaegar said in exasperation.  “I will leave the beautiful Miss Sansa Stark be.”  He grinned suddenly.  “Though, I cannot wait to see your aunt and Ygritte’s reaction when they meet that ‘child.’”

TBC

[weconqueratdawn]

#fannibalselfrec event - Hannibal season one

Thanks to @hannibalficwriters for organising this, I’m looking forward to checking out everyone’s recs :)

I nearly decided not to take part - I have problems with self-reccing, especially when I think something has received ‘enough’ attention. It just seems greedy. But that’s a) stupid and b) I have a story I want to tell about the writing of this fic.

I have literally only one (1) which qualifies. Others have strayed too far into AU-land to count as taking place in S1. That fic is *drumroll*:

Cathexis

Hannibal/Will ~ 57k words ~ Explicit

A Season 1 BDSM AU

Summary: What if Hannibal's sadistic tendencies only find expression through consensual BDSM relationships? Set in a Season 1 AU where Will is allowed to continue teaching, relatively undisturbed by Jack, and seeks Hannibal's professional help of his own accord.

The story I want to tell is how I went from not even thinking about writing, to writing something which juuussst about qualifies as a short novel (if we go by word count) in the same bound. (And how you can too! No, just kidding - I hate those kinds of terrible advice blogs. But stick with me, there’s things in this story which might be relevant for anyone reading.)

Before this fic, I wasn’t writing. Anything. Not only that, but I wasn’t even a frustrated writer who wanted to write but couldn’t. The idea of writing had never occurred to me. Sure, I was a frustrated creative person - I have been all my life, even since I was a very small child. Just before this fic, I had been studying fine art with a load of other adult learners and trying to engage with the contemporary arts scene in a fairly amateurish but genuine way. I would have described myself as an artist. My creative friends are sculptors and printmakers and painters. We had just finished putting on a group exhibition - just to see if we could - and were thinking vaguely of other things we might do together in the future.

Enter fandom. I had come to Hannibal post-cancellation and watched all three seasons breathlessly, then wandered around Tumblr reading meta and finding great fic and thinking WHY OH GOD WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS in a way which is familiar to anyone who has just Found Hannigram.

My gf is a fandom-savvy individual and we usually talk about our obsessions, whether they're shared or not. We came up with something which we found funny and which you most likely won’t - after steeping ourselves in Hannibal's god-complex we thought it would be hilarious to reduce him down to a common-or-garden bedroom sadist. He would make bad bondage puns and have a dungeon instead of a murder basement. Lololol etc. I even went so far as to refer to this as Fifty Shades of Graham, which if you know me, demonstrates how un-serious I was about it.

I DID NOT INTEND TO WRITE THIS is what I am trying to say. It was a joke, a bad one, and a private one. I never intended to be a writer* at all. 

Because apparently, unbeknown to me, that’s what I’ve been all this time. Secretly, under the surface somewhere. And what I think is this: I just wasn’t ready to be a writer before. I wasn’t ready to discover this about myself. The things that I did before - all the visual art, all my academic studies and crap jobs - all have, in differing and subtle ways, all fed into this part of me which wasn’t ready to come out yet. 

And I also think that this is happening to all of us. It’s just as true for you as it is for me. We all have hidden pockets of potential, things even the most self-aware of us do not know about, or refuse to look too closely at. Those pockets might not lead directly to anything life changing, they may be paths to other, deeper and more difficult to find pockets. Or simply to activities and interests we find enjoyable, a way of doing something just for ourselves or of meeting people we need in our lives.

A wise person on the internet said “follow the rabbit-holes”. They all lead to the same place anyway, and the easiest path there is the one of least resistance. Follow that strange tug, dive in, see where it leads you without worrying about the destination. You might end up being very surprised.

*It took me maybe six months to start to feel I could use the hallowed word Writer when talking about myself, and now I can even tell complete strangers this without blushing and feeling like a fraud.

18 months later and I can't imagine not planning all my not-work time around writing - I think about it constantly. It nags at me when I’m prevented from doing it by other commitments. My weeks and weekends are based squarely around which project I'm working on and how much time I have until that deadline, self-imposed or not. I have so many projects lined up they are constantly being juggled and re-ordered so I can try to maximise my available writing time in the most effective way. I’m even looking beyond fandom and beginning work on an original novel. And it all started with this fic.

For the really curious, here is how Cathexis got written (under the cut):

I read even more fic (really amazing and intimidatingly good fic too) and even more meta and I thought more and more about Hannibal and Will’s complex dynamic. The BDSM AU became less of a joke and more of a place where that could be explored without getting too tangled up in the difficulties of Will’s relationship with Hannibal. I thought about it often. There was so much discussion and activity in the fandom that the idea of putting down your feelings in the form of a story didn’t seem so strange.

But still, it didn’t seem like that was the route for me. Until, one morning after Christmas, I woke up with dialogue in my head (those moments just before and after waking are so good for weird happenings like this). I didn’t move, didn’t do anything at all, before I wrote it down on my phone. It felt like a strange thing to do at the time - trespassing in a place I didn’t quite belong. It was a compulsion. I just knew I had to do it.

I had no idea if more would follow or if I even wanted more to follow. But more did. I wrote that down to, in the same place (which, by the way, was the note app *not* anything as official as a Google Doc - the very idea :0 !!) 

It took me maybe three-four weeks of this to brave the idea of doing something with the snatches of dialogue and scattered notes which had built up. They had become pieces of a puzzle which I needed to solve - until then, I knew I wouldn’t find any peace.

I had been talking with @wraithsonwingsposts​ about the show and had encouraged her to work on a fic idea she had been playing around with. She returned the favour and was so fantastic and supportive all the way through - and therefore, this is all her fault, as she already knows ;)

The rest of the story was the same for anyone undertaking a piece of writing - one word at a time, much time staring at a blinking cursor, a lot of editing. But overall, I think what got this written and completed was keeping my aims simple. The were 1) see it through to the end (i.e. solve the puzzle), and 2) try not to make a complete tit out of myself.

I know for certain I hit one of those goals.

**************************************

Bonus: for the very-very-very curious, here is the original and un-edited version of the I wrote that morning (a version of which appears in Chapter 8), and the first thing I wrote since school:

"What kinds of things do you say when you... afterwards?" "I thought you found it too difficult to hear?" "I want to know. I can catch the odd word, but the way you say it... I like the way you sound." Hannibal hesitated for a tiny moment. Will smiled and said, "I thought it was for my benefit only you don't say it in English." Hannibal sighed and conceded, "Perhaps it's easier, sometimes." He moved closer to Will, made it almost impossible for Will to escape from what Hannibal had to tell him, and to study his face as he spoke. "I call you my darling, my lovely Will, so precious to me. I tell you how beautiful I find you, how complete my desire is and how abandoned you make me. I tell you that you are mine and belong to me, that I shall never leave you, that you have made me yours. I praise you, for being so very good, for indulging me, and for indulging yourself also. I tell you that you deserve it, and more, and I tell you I love you." Will went very quiet, almost not breathing. He had known what to expect but to hear it stated so simply was almost too much. Hannibal continued to look steadily at him, waiting. Will turned over suddenly, so he no longer could watch Hannibal's face, and pressed himself back into his body. Hannibal moved to accommodate, folding him arms around him and holding him tight. He brought his legs up so his thighs pressed into the back of Will's, and his ankles tangled with Will's also. They lay there for a few moments without speaking, bodies perfectly aligned. Will felt safe again. "If you wish to explore these issues, I have a suggestion. There are things you could wear, even in public, which could serve to remind you of my possession. Something more concrete than a bruise or a bite mark." Will considered how it might feel to have such a reminder, one he could feel wherever he was. An image came to him of a collar made of plain but good quality leather. It could be concealed under his shirts, especially if he wore ties. It would be slim but solid, with one heavy buckle to fasten it. He could almost feel it's weight resting on the back of his neck, like Hannibal had placed his hand there. Will opened his mouth to speak and then realised Hannibal was holding and touching his hand gently. The gesture was so soft and specific that Will had to look, to watch Hannibal's hands. Realisation dawned on him. Hannibal was meditatively rubbing small circles up and down in between the second and third knuckles of his third finger on his left hand. Will turned over to catch Hannibal around the shoulders and demanded, "Did you just ask me to marry you?"

Cathexis on ao3

[midnightiscoming-kasabian]

Kasabian interview: Serge Pizzorno talks For Crying Out Loud, festival headliners and Noel Fielding's Bake Off debut

02/05/17

To want to make a record, Kasabian’s Serge Pizzorno has to have a good reason.

"I get pretty obsessed," he says. "The idea of just servicing the machine isn't very inspiring."

Keep reading

So while he didn’t have any explicit plans to start writing a follow-up to the band’s record 48:13, the guitarist and songwriter found himself setting a challenge of sorts - to pen the music for something new in just six weeks (material for its predecessor took one year to complete) - doing “9-5” shifts rather than writing late at night.

This resulted in material for the band’s sixth record For Crying Out Loud, which sees them return to the sound that made so many fans fall in love with them: a disco-infused, joyous indie-rock roar that kicks off with album opener and absolute belter of a second single: ‘Ill Ray’.

"There was a lot of experimentation on that record [48:13], and I wanted to take all that out of it," Pizzorno says. "So I could only use the guitar and the piano. It was weird, because I’ve got a nice collection of old gear - but I wasn’t allowed to do any of that.

"I wanted to try and write a great guitar album,” he continues. “I was interested in Berry Gordy’s approach, Motown and that 70s period where guitar music… the songs were really strong and the melodies were really strong… but there’s also this amazing disco-funk thing on it. I thought it’d be nice for my brain to go ‘it’s done in six weeks’. In that period I wrote 10 songs - I wrote more than that but they didn’t work - and I decided I wouldn’t have anything on there that didn’t fit."

Compared to artists who contradict themselves by saying they understand how audiences have 'shorter attention spans'… only to wheel out 20-track monsters: Pizzorno says that he’s “cut away all the fat” from the record until they were left with a 10-track album.

"I wanted to go with that approach, that old-school way of going ‘first eight bars, everything has to draw you in’. I cut away all the fat, all the layers,” he says.

"Then I went on holiday for a while, and then I came back to it and wrote ‘Ill Ray’ and ‘Acid House’. And I feel like going back now, I’ve… executed the plan. Sometimes you get these ideas and end up doing something completely different. And obviously that’s great too. But this time I did what I said I wanted to do."

On ‘Acid House’ there’s a definite Ramones/Buzzcocks feel, that roots itself in a great melody then brings on that distortion that Pizzorno says "adds another element".

"We did really basic recording - some of it took place in a big studio but the whole thing was all done on instinct, really quickly, and it felt right to make this kind of album,” he said. “Because there’s not been a lot of guitar albums made in a long while."

In an interview with Q Magazine Pizzorno claimed that Kasabian were back to "save guitar music from the abyss” - a rather grand statement that seemed to have been made purely to serve as NME headline fodder.

"That was very tongue-in-cheek, pure joking," he says with a sheepish grin. "It’s context. I assume people read it… they probably don’t actually… but if you knew me you’d know it was standard."

While he may have been poking fun at his own band, he is utterly sincere when it comes to the lack of new talent making it onto the radio.

"I just feel that we have a platform, we headline festivals and our tunes get played, and at the moment it sounds so weird - one of them came on the radio on the way to this interview, sandwiched in-between bleeps and clicks. And there’s something beautiful about that - and if we can get that through, hopefully people will go 'we should have more of that'.

"The bands don’t get a shot and that’s really unfair," he adds. "It [guitar music] needs a platform… the reason why certain things get big is because people decide that it’s allowed to. So if we stop playing a certain kind of music it’s gonna disappear.

"If Ed Sheeran had come out 10 years ago things probably would have been very different. Slaves, Cabbage, there’s some cool stuff getting out. I just wish it got more of a push."

While his mop of dark hair, penchant for black clothing and the slight stoop of a man aware that he's taller than most - like a rock and roll raven - would fool you into thinking otherwise, Pizzorno is like the antithesis to Tom Meighan’s outlandish, swaggering frontman, and the pair seem so different to one another that you wouldn’t actually think they belong to the same band.

"We do occupy different universes - he’s the sun, I’m the moon," Pizzorno smiles fondly. "A sense of humour is what’s kept everything ticking over… we make each other laugh a lot."

Making this record helped Meighan handle a difficult 2016, after a close friend passed away and he split from his long-term partner, with whom he has a child - in that same Q interview the frontman revealed: "In every way, 2016 was great for Serge, great for Leicester City, s*** for me."

"I wanted to make a really uplifting, feel good album. And it’s family business, you know?” Pizzorno says now. "So making a record, getting into the studio, I think it helped Tom. It was nice for him to get lost in that -  especially making the tunes that were super upbeat."

Somewhat unbelievably Pizzorno says he doesn’t get recognised when he’s out with one of his best friends, comedian Noel Fielding - "even more so now. They think I’m his brother, probably".  

He reckons Fielding - who stars in the band’s video for 'You’re In Love With A Psycho' - will do a great job as one of the new hosts on The Great British Bake Off when it re-launches on Channel 4.

"He’s so warm, he’s such a warm soul. And he’s really clever," he says. "Whatever people are expecting I don’t think they have any idea… he’s gonna be so good at it. Him and Sandi [Toksvig] is a great combo as well, she’s wonderful. I don’t think it’s too dissimilar to what was going on before."

Pizzorno’s love of comedy is present in pretty much every Kasabian record, but most obviously so on this one - quirky surrealism crops up in first single ‘You’re In Love With A Psycho’ on lyrics like: "The doctors say I’m crazy, that I’m eight miles thick/I’m like the taste of macaroni on a seafood stick."

"The story of that song is a man or a woman who has visions of being the prodigal son, thinking he’s friends with Axel Foley… having an argument outside an off-licence and reciting Bukowski to win back the person they love," he says.

"We all have those moments in relationships… or we know a friend who has, where you look at each other and go: 'That was a bit strong... I only forgot to put the bins out'. I’ve had a few texts off mates asking: 'Is that me?'"

How does he answer?

"I say 'no!'" Pizzorno says laughing. "It’s nobody. It’s all of us."

In August Kasabian will headline Reading & Leeds festivals for a second time, having started out as the first band to perform - "literally the first band in the tent" - after the release of their self-titled debut in 2004.

You can guarantee that they’ll put on a good show, but alongside fellow headliners Muse and Eminem, it makes for a disappointingly predictable top three.

"If I could reel off 10 bands that could headline and do a good job then I would, but I don’t think I can," Pizzorno says. "It’s far from easy. You have to stay relevant for that long, and that’s what the trick is. Most bands can put out a nice couple of albums, then everyone disappears."

Ahead of For Crying Out Loud’s release, Kasabian have been touring around much smaller venues to what they’re used to, flexing their muscles a bit and testing the new songs for the first time.

"That’s the optimum place to see any band, 2,000 seaters," he says. "That’s the ultimate live music experience. No matter where you are in the room you’re not that far away.

"It’s nice to do that. And it’s the hardcore fans that’ve stayed with you, even if you’ve gone… offtrack. You know they’re there."

www.independent.co.uk

[delineative]

writing year in review

i was not tagged but i've wanted to do this meme for years, and FINALLY this year i wrote more than 2 fics, so here i am at last!

total number of completed stories:  

ao3: 15 (+1 unrevealed)

tumblr: 3

overall: 18

total word count:  

ao3: 46 302

tumblr: 1 881

overall: 48 183

fandoms written in:

7 seeds

boku no hero academia

haikyuu

mystic messenger

pokemon go

yugioh arc v

looking back, did you expect to write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? way more. way, way more. to put it into perspective, i wrote 11 572 words for 2014-2015 combined. i can't believe i somehow managed to write nearly 50k this year, particularly considering how busy i was with school… it's not much in comparison with other writers, but i'm a notoriously slow and unproductive writer, so i'm very proud of that wordcount!

what’s your own favorite story of the year? a tie between 'a girl of routine', which i'm ridiculously fond of despite the pacing problems, and 'the snow covers us', which i think hit the balance between pretty prose and intensity of emotional impact. they're not perfect, but i really love them!

incidentally, least favourite would be 'all the choirs in my head' and 'all of those better days' because i'm not happy at all with the characterisation (i've kicked them both onto a pseud).

did you take any writing risks this year? quite a few! i signed up for hqhols for the first time, wrote treats for the first time (1 in hqhols, 3 in yuletide), broke 10k on a fic for the first time in 'A History of Storms', published a fic on the same day i wrote it, and tried out epistolary for the first time! i did quite a lot of experimentation with my writing style, going from super dense and flowery ('an outline of shapes i used to know', 'the dimming divide') to more relaxed and subtle ('a girl of routine', 'i won't say it') and ending up somewhere comfortably in the middle.

do you have any fanfic or profit goals for the new year? next year i enter the Hell Zone of school so honestly, i'll be happy if i can finish just one fic. i'm going to try signing up for yuletide again (even though it's right in the middle of my exam season) as well! this year i spent a lot of time working on dialogue and narrative flow, and next year i'd like to work more on pacing and plot. i'd also like to figure out how to strike the balance between authentic narrative voice and my writing style.

best story of the year? 'A History of Storms', definitely! overall i think it's my best work in terms of plot, pacing, characterisation, prose and general narrative construction, and i'm very happy with how it turned out.

i'm also very proud of 'emerge in the telluric light', which i feel was a sort of turning point re the quality of my writing--it was the first fic i'd written that i felt didn’t have any glaring errors in flow/pacing/characterisation/dialogue.

most popular story of the year? 'i won't say it', which is sitting on an incredible 630 kudos and 24 comment threads! the reception to this fic has really blown my mind. i wrote and published this the day the team leader designs were released, and i suspect getting in early (creating the blanche/candela tag, no less!) played a big part in this fic's popularity… thank you pokemon go fandom!

story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: i'm not generally surprised when my fics don't get much reception, because i tend to write rarer fandoms/ships/characters, but that being said i think 'how the sky looked after they left' is still a pretty nice story. it's a short gen character study of a minor female character, though, so i understand why it hasn't gotten as much attention as my other fic.

most fun story to write: all of my 7 seeds fics were a blast to write, but particularly 'show some entrepreneurial initiative'! shoutout to my best girl mayu for having such a fun pov to write in, and for the general weirdass hyperspecific summer a narration style.  

story with the single sexiest moment: um… i think the scene where candela kisses blanche's hand in 'A History of Storms' is very sexy. there is also a wound care scene in the unrevealed fic which is pretty hot, imo.

i don't think the actual pwp has any sexy moments.

most sweet story: i think the most straightforwardly sweet story i've written is 'tell me we'll never get used to it' which is pretty much just 1.3k of domesticity with slight edges, but even that dives a little bit into the oikawa talent narrative. maybe 'show some entrepreneurial initiative' if taken purely at face value and ignoring canon etc?

”holy crap, that's wrong, even for you!” story: n/a nothing is wrong for me, this year it finally hit me that i don’t owe anyone anything and i can literally write whatever i want, which i did.

but i guess i did venture past a soft T rating for the first time and write something slightly more explicit than my usual fare of 'thinking about holding hands'/'intense eye contact', so that's something.

story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: i began 'the snow covers us' with a vague but earnest enthusiasm for minor female characters in general and finished the fic as fuyumi's #1 fan. i have so many thoughts about her position as the eldest child in a family like the todorokis (and all the failed expectation that comes with that), and her relationship with her youngest and most powerful brother. i wish someone else would write an epic fuyumi biopic so i won't have to!!

most unintentionally telling story: all… of them… but i projected particularly hard on blanche in 'the dimming divide', and jaehee in 'heart wide as the sea'. something about that imposter syndrome and repression of feelings. you know. the sudden shift in tone to optimism in the endings is pure wish fulfilment.

and i didn't realise it while i was writing it but 'a girl of routine' was absolutely me setting out one of my biggest fantasies ie being able to step away from something you've devoted a huge chunk of your life to so you can evaluate how you feel about it from a safe distance, and then reengage with it on your own terms, surrounded by a support network, without any fallout or consequences for leaving in the first place.

hardest story to write: i started 'an outline of shapes i used to know' last year and it took me half a year to finish because i really wanted to do oikawa's character justice and acknowledge as many different facets of his personality as possible! i was also working through a lot of personal stuff re his natural talent vs hard work arc and publishing the fic was definitely kind of cathartic.

biggest disappointment: pokemon go fandom at the height of its hype really spoiled me with my first two fics, so i'm a little bit sad that the kudos count on 'A History of Storms' doesn't really reflect how much effort and energy i put into it ;v; especially considering that it's my best and longest piece by far! it isn't the fic with the lowest kudos count--that would be 'antebellum' and 'all of those better days', both on 3 kudos--but since those are for small fandoms like yugioh arc v i'm not too disappointed by that!

biggest surprise: still not over that word count?!?!? also, breaking 100 kudos for five different fics when i'd never managed to do so before (my shock when 'all the choirs in my head' and 'i won't say it' broke 100 kudos in like a day…)! and the fact that people have offered to translate three of my fics, which i will never be over. honestly i will probably never, ever be over the fact that people like my fic at all, so if you've ever read/kudosed/commented on/recced anything i've written, thank you from the bottom of my heart ❤️

[anothergirlrecovering]

Lynn 104

Honestly this kind of just felt like another wasted session. We basically just talked about like directions for treatment and she has reminded me so many times now that maybe EMD our isn’t the best thing for me and if we can’t make progress with it then it’s OK to try something different which would mean seeing a different therapist and I think that’s why she always tried so lightly around saying it but I know what she’s indicating. She asked about my initial target memory and I said that it just feels like I want still but that the feeling of I only matter if I’m sick Still really bothers me and I explained how even with saying that I Titian there’s like that anxiety there of feeling like I’m supposed to be sick which makes it harder to get better and I’m not saying that that means I am trying to get worse or anything but it creates an added layer of anxiety because it feels like I shouldn’t be getting better. She asked how the dietitian when I said I saw her this morning and I had cried. She asked what happened and I explained how she had weighed me and we set goals for the week that we’re a little bit more explicit them last time and she gave me a worksheet about my values to do and she wants me to set healthy boundaries with my parents because they fit into my anxiety about food and I explained how I think initially it did start off by unintentionally missing breakfast and lunch with that eventually like this last week when I tried to add things and I realized I had a lot more anxiety doing it. She told me about some Brene brown Interview she had watched which was about self-care and how important it is to take care of yourself and I had apologize for our last session and for being argumentative and defensive and it wasn’t my intention to come across as rude and she said it was OK and I asked her if she was still mad at me and she was confused and I was like because of last session and she was like no And I was like well then was there something else that you were mad about because you looked confused and she was like no I was confused because I wasn’t mad. She asked me about what I did with those feelings after session and I explained how all the next day I really examined how my affecting my clients and explained how like I really don’t think that I’m doing them harm and that I was really angry at myself for not communicating well with Lynn because I think it was taken in a different kind of way then I had meant it and I explained how I don’t feel overwhelmed by my clients but I felt overwhelmed by my caseload in the fact that I was full and couldn’t take on more clients but had a lot of people asking to be seen. She said she understood. She asked about where I felt stuck and I was like honestly just kind of depends on the day I don’t know really sure and then Lynn one on this tangent about perfectionism and how that’s the block that we keep hitting and how she thinks self deprecation is sort of a secondary game for me at this point because it reinforces my attempts to be perfect and how We have to address that and then she asked me if Sony had ever brought that up and I was like no I mean she was pretty rigid about sticking to the protocol and didn’t really talk about anything outside of the phobia other than that one session that she lectured me about moving and then asked me to bring in a sheet of paper where I had written down everything about moving because I had said I was considering moving after I was licensed. At one point when Lynn started lecturing me again about taking care of myself and how important that is in our field I started smiling and she was like what are you smiling about and I was like it’s just funny to me because you and Peggy have such opposite approach is and she was like what do you mean and I was like she’s just so nice and compassionate and I was like and it’s not that you’re not nice but you’re just a lot more harsh and she was like well is this a good fit for you and I was like obviously I like you and she was like well but it’s a good therapeutic conversation to have because is this a good fit for what you are needing and I was like I mean I think it honestly just depends on the issue because there are sometimes when that is really helpful like the fact that you were the first therapist to ever even tell me that my mom was never going to change And that I basically need to work on getting over that but want to comes to food related stuff I think that idea better from a more compassionate approach because when it comes to more of like fear tactics I think I just get anxious and defensive and then I’m not really hearing what you’re saying even though you aren’t wrong but I’m not really even listening anymore because I’m just defensive and frustrated and don’t want to ever talk about it with you again basically and she was like well it’s my job to bring it up again and I was like yeah but it just makes me not want to really discuss what’s going on and not that I would lie to you but I think I would just not really say anything about it. She had me fill out a release of information for the dietitian and she asked about If the perfectionism was gone how would that affect how I eat what I be able to eat anything whenever I wanted and I was like honestly I’m not really sure because it’s not so much like this self deprecating thing for me to not eat as much as it is that at this point in life I just get so much anxiety about right and wrong which is been heavily influenced by my parents and ultimately I would rather eat nothing then eat something that’s “bad “God for bid I have GMO’s and then I’m worried that I’m going to get Glyphostate related issues and pass on autism to my child and so it’s a lot of anxiety about right and wrong and rigidity which she seem to think was still a form of perfectionism which is fine. I realize I was rambling one point because she was asking about where I feel stuck and envisioning my life without self deprecation and what not and I was just going on anon about 1 million different tangents and I was like I’m sorry I know that I’m rambling at this point I don’t even know if I’m making sense and she was like yeah you are. She asked about what it would take for me to really believe that I matter and I was like honestly I’m not sure but like it really feels like and maybe this is super irrational but if my mom were to call and just tell me that I mattered if feels like it would fix everything because it’s like I look back at all of those memories and it’s like how do you just leave your kid to have panic attacks by themselves and how do you let your kid knowingly go to bed starving and under weight and how do you let your kid beg the other kids at the lunch table for their leftovers because they’re being starved at home like if your kid matters to you then why wouldn’t you at least say sorry for those things are acknowledge that it wasn’t right and that they do you matter or something and when was like I agree and she brought up how if I was my childhood therapist that we would’ve called DCS and they would’ve had to make changes whether it be bringing me in for therapy your family therapy we’re having to let me eat normal foods and she said she calls but I went through abuse because they were starving me and I just didn’t really say anything and she pointed out how different my life would be if I actually liked myself and how I need to have fun and I told you that I bought tap shoes which my husband isn’t thrilled about and I said I’m just really bad at having fun and she was like well you’re learning. She also asked about my blogging again and I was like what the heck so I literally took out tumblr and was like look I will show you so I showed her the dashboard and then I showed her my own page and was like you can re-blog things that stick with you or you can write your own stuff and she basically had been thinking that I was writing after my sessions all the negative things that I felt about myself and I was like Lynn this literally isn’t a blogger I just write about how fucked up i am and how much I hate myself. I was like I just write about how our sessions go and insights that I have and I might mention some of the struggles i’m having because it’s helpful to look back and see the progress that I have made in the areas that used to be hard but aren’t anymore and it’s just nice to be able to look back and see the progress that is me because otherwise it’s so easy to forget and I was like it’s not like I’m literally looking back on them all the time because after it’s done on the car ride home I don’t look back at it and it’s not just a bitch fest about myself being a terrible person and she brought up that we are from a generation difference and how she just doesn’t know how these things work and she sees a lot of danger journaling is a lot of times people just go on and on about their negative thoughts about them self and I was like it’s honestly not like that but during the week I might notice something upsetting or something might come up and I usually blog a few sentences about it and then before our session I scroll through and see what I had written to see if there was anything important that I needed to talk about or process for when you ask how my week was and I was like Lynn your name isn’t even mentioned in the blog and neither is mine and neither is our location and she was like no I’m not worried about that it’s just new to me because I didn’t know how all this works and I was like that’s fine and she was like OK but I feel a lot better knowing that you aren’t just blogging all of these terrible things about yourself all the time and I was like you know it’s not that at all. It’s honestly hard to recall these sessions when they’re like this because everything is scattered and all over the place and there isn’t a specific thing that we are addressing but it is what it is the session was fine. Nothing particularly great or bad. Also when she was having me fill out the release of information it was funny because she wrote down requested by client and I laughed and was like requested by client I see and she was like I mean I can change it and I was like it’s fine I just think it’s funny because I didn’t request it but I was like honestly I’m still laughing about that hippa vio from last week and she was like what are you talking about and I was like remember when you double booked your clients and then you told the girl in the waiting room where I had driven from and she laughed and was like whatever it worked and then we actually did have some conversation around Violations and how her friend apparently works for auditing and prosecution with all of that and I case they were working on was where a therapist apparently maliciously told the hospital about her client having an abortion because she was mad at her and it’s usually more of those things along the lines of malicious intent which I think makes sense and I was like I mean honestly there are some that are going to be impossible to prevent and she was like yeah and I was like I mean anytime that I’m with somebody in public and I see a client I’m essentially giving away how they know me because with my husband he knows everybody that I know so it’s like if I’m not explaining why I know them then he obviously knows that they are clients. I also asked her at the end about being audited and she said that she had been audited by insurance and that they don’t ask for your like written part about the sessions and that since it’s just like the standard note or whatever it’s pretty easy and it’s pretty subjective so there is an a lot of things they can say you owe money for. I said that made sense and she said how she thinks the actual written part in the note can only be accessed if a judge is subpoenaing it which I’m pretty certain it’s accurate. Also we talked a little bit about how I feel like I don’t matter and how that influences everything that I do because I don’t matter then I don’t matter enough to take care of which includes is why I worked myself to death and wine not always nursing myself and caring about doing things that I want to be doing because I simply just don’t really matter and I told her about how Peggy had asked about my goals last time and how she pointed out that my motivation for covering not a single one of them had anything to do with me and I was like I can recover from my husband or my job or my dog but the thought of doing anything for me just feels a relevant because it feels like I don’t matter.

[dmitri-smerdyakov]

Barely Holding Onto You - a Newt/Tina fic (Clean Version)

Tagging: @pinkdiamonddolphin

Based on THIS post

Basically, due to the lightning curse/whatever Grindel!Graves used on Newt in the movie, it’s left him infertile. Now Newt and Tina are married, and they’ve been discussing having a family but nothing’s working.

This fic has been…painful to write. Not because I have experience with the topic(s) but because I just struggled writing it. It’s been a labour of love, blood, sweat and tears (literally that last one), so I hope that I’ve done it some justice.

This is NOT related to any of my other Newtina fics – this is a one off. As such, some other things are different too so that I can separate it more clearly from my other fics: for example, Jacob/Queenie and their kids are different, as are the years that everything happened etc. etc. It’s a whole new fic-verse!

To add a few other notes:

I’m not sure how much they knew regarding sperm and eggs during the mid-30s but I’ve tried to be somewhat accurate on everything else historically.

The “glass/jar” was used instead of a plastic cup for male (in)fertility tests – thank you @katiehavok for that information!

This post is for the CLEAN VERSION OF THE FIC. If you want to read the explicit, read it HERE. Because this one is the clean one, I’ve had to edit the original smutty fic down – it’s still heavily implied what is going on, but I have done my best to make it clean without taking out important parts of the story.

Anyway, here’s the fic - enjoy!

She already knew what she’d find before she pushed back the duvet – she knew because of the tell-tale cramp in her lower abdomen, because of the sudden stickiness between her legs, because she just knew.

It didn’t soften the blow at all when she saw the crimson stain on the sheets and her pyjamas.

Tina inhaled heavily, closing her eyes and lowering her head; it wasn’t the first time she had gotten her hopes up, and it probably wouldn’t be the last…but she had hoped so desperately, and for a moment that seemed like it might have been enough. She allowed herself a few seconds to wallow in her own self-pity before pulling herself together; there was no point in sitting in bed depressed over such a thing, and she had to get ready for work.

All it took was a quick Scourgify for the evidence to be removed from the sheets – it was as if it hadn’t happened. Newt would never know any different, really.

Tina had a quick shower before dressing, ignoring the pain she felt inside as she pulled on the elastic belt that always pinched at her skin, the one with the persistently-stained cloths that never seemed quite clean no matter how much she washed them, and hurriedly finished dressing. When she re-entered the bedroom, her husband was still blissfully unaware as he continued to sleep; he would be rather disappointed, she knew, once he found out that another month had passed and they still hadn’t been able to conceive a baby. It had been more than two years now since they had discussed and agreed on starting a family, more than two years of regular trying…but nothing was happening, no matter how hard they tried.

It’ll happen soon, Queenie had assured her just a few days ago, just you wait.

It was easy for her to say, Tina had thought, for her sister and Jacob already had three children of their own (with many more sure to be on the way, the rate they were going).

She immediately felt guilty for thinking that; she adored her niece and nephews – she and Newt both – and she was of course happy for her sister because she knew that it was what Queenie had wanted since she and Jacob married. Having said that, it was difficult not to feel slightly bitter that her sister was able to do yet another thing that she didn’t seem to be able to: perfect blonde Queenie was of course able to have as many children as she wanted without really trying while Tina – bland, plain, prickly Porpentina – struggled with something that should have come so naturally to her.

She slipped on her shoes and shrugged on her jacket before casting one last look at Newt; he would see the bloodied pyjamas in the wash basket and he’d know that this month had brought yet another failure – that she had failed him again – and she didn’t really want to be around when that happened.

I’m sorry, Newt. You deserve so much better.

Newt was silent when Tina joined him the case that evening, not even looking her way as he finished throwing pellets for the mooncalves; she didn’t say a word either, watching him intensely as she waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, merely casting a glance her way before moving on to the next habitat, she cleared her throat loudly.

“Newt.”

He stopped, slowly turning to look at her; his eyes, usually so alive and bright, seemed dullened with misery. For a moment they just took each other in, waiting for the other to say something to break the course tension in the air – neither of them wanted to be the one to do it, even if it was a topic they absolutely needed to discuss.

Finally, Tina looked down at the ground and folded her arms. “I got my period.”

“I know,” Newt muttered, voice rather hoarse. “I saw your pyjamas in the basket this morning. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Her glare was half-hearted, clearly not convinced by his feeble words.

“No, I really am sorry,” He repeated, louder this time. “Next month…maybe things will be different.”

“You say that every month,” She stated, and though she was trying to stay strong there was the faintest waver to her tone. “And they never are different.”

Newt swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly wishing that he knew the right things to say, the right things to do. “Oh, Tina… I’m so sorry.”

Perhaps it was the tenderness in his own voice that caused her to crack, or maybe the pained expression on his face – but either way, Tina found herself suddenly moving forward into her husband’s arms as she struggled not to allow her feelings to overcome her. He held her dutifully as she pressed her face into his shoulder, his hold on her secure and comforting as he listened.

“I’ve let you down again.”

“You could never let me down, love. Never.”

“What if it’s my fault?” She asked, no louder than a whisper – but he heard it as if she were shouting, painfully clear. “What if it’s my fault we can’t have a baby?”

“It could just as easily be me,” Newt reminded her despondently. “There are a number of things that mean it could be my fault…the war, an experimental potion gone wrong without me realizing…”

She pressed closer to him, obviously trying to hide the fact that she had broken into tears. “I’m sorry, Newt.”

It was a word that was continuously being used between them lately, it seemed – but it was also the only word that really seemed to fit their situation too.

Later that night, as they lay in bed tucked closely together, Tina rested her head on his shoulder and took a deep breath, avoiding his eyes.

“What if I can’t have children?”

“Tina…”

“What if…if I’m physically incapable?” Her eyes were glistening again. “What if I can’t give you children?”

Newt brushed a finger against her jaw before using it to tilt her chin up to look at him. “Don’t say that. I’m more than sure that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you – it could just as easily be me.”

“But what if-?”

“Then that’s fine,” He interrupted gently. “We’ll love each other and grow old without children; we’ll have all of our creatures to love, and our nieces and nephews. Besides, for all we know, we could conceive in just a couple of weeks from now if we continue trying regularly.”

“I…I suppose.” Her fingers drifted over the hard lines of his chest slowly, her mind clearly miles away. “I didn’t think I’d want a baby this much…but I do. I want our baby.”

He exhaled heavily, closing his eyes as his lips brushed over the top of her head. “I know. I want that too, Tina; I want more than anything for us to have a child together…we’ll just have to wait and hope that it will happen soon.”

As always, the bleeding came and went within just a few days that seemed to stretch on more than they should; as soon as their creatures had been fed and settled for the night, Tina had taken his hand and led him upstairs to their bedroom. She was somewhat unsure as she kissed him, and it was this uncertainty that made him falter.

“Hang on, love,” Newt murmured, hands resting gently on her shoulders. “We don’t have to…not tonight, not if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to,” She stated quietly. “Not because of a baby – I just need to know that…that you do still love me, even if no baby does come of it.”

“Oh, Tina… Always,” He affirmed, leaning in to-capture her mouth in a searing kiss. When they pulled away briefly, his words were warm and soft against her lips. “Always and forever.”

They turned down the lights in the bedroom completely before moving to the bed, kissing and stripping off the layers of clothing bit-by-bit; they were slow as they laid together, whispering words of love and devotion to each other.

“I love you.” His words were muffled into her skin as he pressed his lips to her neck, inhaling her. “Don’t forget that…I want you, no matter what.”

Their love-making was tender and sweet beneath the covers, thriving on the touch of skin-on-skin as they moved together. They held each other close as they finished, sighing and gasping with relieved relief.

Afterwards, as they shifted and he tucked her underneath his chin, he felt her crying openly; he didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what was bothering her. “Tina…”

“I’m fine,” She dismissed weakly, pressing her ear against his chest; she could hear the steady beat of his heart, a strong thrum.

He ignored the burn of his own tears, clouding his vision, and instead closed his eyes. “Please don’t forget… I need you, Tina – no matter what comes, I need you.”

Tina remembered how it used to be before – before they had started trying for a baby, before things started to go wrong – and ached at the memory of what she was now missing; instead of passionate love-making it was now the business of trying. Each time they both worried if it might have worked, and each time it was proven that it hadn’t; it was tiring, a routine…and she hated it, she hated that something so intimate and wonderful felt like a chore.

But this hadn’t been trying – this had been different, this hadn’t been about if they could conceive a baby, but rather just being together, loving each other. She didn’t want to lose him – couldn’t – because she knew, as self-sufficient as she made herself to be, that she needed him too.

Over the years, Credence had found himself growing more and more at home inside the case; perhaps because, when he was there, he didn’t feel so strange or like a freak (a word he still hated with a passion, a word that brought back awful memories he’d rather forget), not when he was surrounded by all of these wondrous beasts. While at first he had been hesitant to come out of his shell, scarred in more ways than one by the past, he was now a far cry from the frightened young man who had repressed his magic with frightful consequences – and he had two people in particular to thank for that.

It was more than easy to quietly study Newt and Tina in the case; both of them were rather awkward in the real world, outsiders like himself, but down here they both seemed just as at home as he himself felt. They had helped him more than they could possibly imagine, giving him shelter and protecting him, making sure that MACUSA were unaware he had in fact survived their attempt to kill him, and they had even helped to teach him magic in whatever ways they could – they had given him a place he could call home, and that was this case.

Credence usually enjoyed watching them from afar: they had both grown as much as he had with time, their relationship moving and blossoming like the various herbs that Newt grew in and around his shed, and while they weren’t overly affectionate as a couple there was still a certain aura that seemed to encompass them when they were together. He knew that they were both very happy together, that they certainly loved each other (unlike some couples he had occasionally witnessed); in a strange way, being in their presence put him at ease and watching the small moments between them gave him an inexplicable warmth.

Things hadn’t been like that recently.

A certain tension had seemed to materialise between the couple over the past few months, driving an invisible wall between them that neither acknowledged – but Credence knew about it, and he felt it as though he were trapped in the wall like a ghost, caught between the two. There were no arguments, of course, for they weren’t the type – but their interactions had turned rather frosty with the time that passed, as if they were avoiding talking about something they should and instead fumbling for something else, something meaningless. It was clear that things had changed, and certainly not for the better.

It greatly unsettled Credence, if he was being honest: he didn’t like the terse interactions he witnessed, didn’t like how cold things had become – it reminded him too much of how things had once been, and he hated it. The comfort and ease he had once felt at being surrounded by wondrous magical creatures had faded into something strange and unpleasant because it didn’t feel right at all.

That July afternoon, Newt had appeared somewhat more frustrated than usual; he had lost his temper quicker than usual when the Niffler stole his wedding ring, shaking it more vigorously than he normally did, and Credence could just tell that something was very wrong. This was why he approached the older man with slight trepidation later, debating just how best to discuss the matter.

“Mr Newt?” It was a habit he still hadn’t shaken, no matter how many times they corrected him for it. “Is…everything okay?”

“Completely,” Newt stated firmly, not even looking up from the Occamy he was tending to. “I’m absolutely fine.”

Credence gave a nod. “O-Oh. Well. It’s just that…that you seem kind of tense. You and Miss Gol- Miss Tina both, I mean.”

The Magizoologist seemed to freeze at his words; the Occamy in his hands gave an indignant chirp at being ignored, and after a moment he lowered it back into the nest. “I see. What makes you say that, Credence?”

“Nothing really,” He hurriedly dismissed, suddenly worried he’d annoyed the older man further with his remark. “It’s just that I’ve noticed you and Miss Tina are…cold. Neither of you smile so much, and I just thought…it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Newt assured him half-heartedly, looking somewhat surprised. “I suppose…you’re not wrong, really.” He sighed as he straightened up, avoiding his assistant’s eye as he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. “Things aren’t exactly…easy for us at the moment, I’m afraid…you see, Tina and I have been hoping for a while now that we might have a baby.”

Credence blinked owlishly at this, clearly taken aback. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” He muttered. “We’ve been trying for two years now to have a baby, you see.”

“Two years?” The younger man was quite shocked by this revelation. “Does it usually take that long?”

Newt’s expression darkened. “No.”

Finally Credence understood where the sudden tension had come from – while he wasn’t quite an expert on human relations (he felt himself grow pink in the cheeks just imagining it sometimes), it made some sense that having trouble having a baby might cause a couple to grow apart with time with stress. “I’m sorry, Mr Newt; I had no idea that-”

“It’s fine,” Newt interrupted, looking up; his eyes were glistening with tears, a clear sign that he was pained by the subject. “We’re going to continue trying…it will happen at some point, of course…sooner or later.”

Credence wasn’t so sure that this was true – even he knew that two years was a rather long time to be trying and waiting to have a baby. He didn’t dare say this, however, out of the fear that he would upset or push Newt away if he did; instead, he gave a small nod and merely said, “I’m sure it will, Mr Newt.”

He hoped it would – in his opinion, if two people deserved to be happy and get what they wanted, it was Newt and Tina.

She could have sobbed when she woke up to blood-stained pyjamas that morning, any hope she had held broken and shattered.

Instead Tina cast a cleaning spell on the bedsheets before retreating to the bathroom to clean up; she let the water in the shower run blisteringly hot, scorching her skin and turning it pink, hoping that perhaps the pain she felt inside would be numbed by a different kind of pain outside. She put on the awful cloths and belt again, hands shaking somewhat, and left the ruined pyjamas in the washing basket – a silent sign for her husband to notice every month, a representation of her failure.

She dressed for work quickly, not wanting to have to face him when he woke now, before taking a moment just to study him; Newt was blissfully oblivious to her agony as he slept on peacefully, and a tiny part of her wanted to hate him for it. He would wake in an hour or so, go to the bathroom and see the pyjamas in the basket – and then any affection he felt for her would probably ebb away, perhaps replaced by loathing or disappointment.

I can’t even give him a child – something that should be so natural and easy.

Not for the first time, Tina wished that she were more like Queenie; usually it had been some envy that her younger sister was so confident, so vivacious, so perfect – now it was resentment due to the undeniable fact that her sister had no trouble whatsoever having children. She still loved Queenie, of course, but it was unfair that her perfect blonde sister had to be able to do yet another thing that Tina herself couldn’t.

No matter what her husband said, she still felt that she had let him down – that he deserved someone else, someone who could give him what he wanted…someone who wasn’t her.

As had become the custom, things were once again tense between the two of them: they barely spoke for the next few days, awkwardly avoiding any topic of conversation that would have required them to speak more than a few words. It was only at the end of the week, when things seemed unbearable, that Newt finally brought the topic up whilst they were working in the shed together.

“Tina, I know that you…you had your period this week,” He stated carefully. “I think that perhaps we should talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” She denied, gritting her teeth together as she plucked some herbs from a plant.

He gave a sigh. “Tina-”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Tina snapped, turning on him. “Mercy Lewis, Newt, can’t you just leave it alone?!”

“I’m trying to help!” Newt defended, frowning deeply at her. “Tina, it’s been well over two years now since we started trying for a baby and nothing has come of it – something is wrong, and we both know it!”

“Nothing is wrong!” She snarled, slamming her hands down on the wood of the workbench. “Everything is perfectly fine-”

“We both know that’s not true!” He interrupted, and his voice sounded harsh even to his own ears. “If it were perfectly fine then we would have a child by now – we would probably have several, the way we’ve been going – but we don’t and there’s something not right about this! Merlin, Tina, can’t you see that something must be wrong with one of us?!”

Tina straightened up, her glare almost-murderous. “How dare you?!”

“Can’t you see that we need to seek out some help?” Newt questioned. “If there’s something wrong with either of us then we need to be aware of it so that something can be done… The way we’re carrying on, Tina, we’re never going to have a child and we’ll end up hating each other because of it!”

There was a long silence that seemed to stretch and settle over them as they stared each other down, the tension reaching a painful peak that only served to remind them how far a chasm had been created.

Suddenly, there were tears in Tina’s eyes – and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop them from rolling down her cheeks; Newt was by her side immediately, anger vanished and replaced by concern as he embraced her. “Tina…”

“If you want a family and I can’t give it to you,” Tina wept, shoulders shaking. “I’d…I’d understand if you wanted someone else.”

“What?” He felt his heart sink into the deepest pit of his stomach at her words; for a moment he was quiet, avoiding her eyes as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Is that what you want? Is this what this is truly about? You…You want to be shot of me?”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all!” She choked out. “No, I mean…if you want children and if I can’t give them to you, you…you should just put me away, get rid of me, and… I wouldn’t blame you, Newt, if you wanted to marry someone else, someone who can give you children and a family.”

Newt pulled away, shaking his head as his eyes filled with tears. “No…No, don’t say that…don’t ever say that, Tina!” Suddenly he was sobbing, pressing their foreheads together as he broke down without any warning. “Never…Never, I could never want anyone but you.”

They were crying together steadily, holding each other in the middle of the dimly-lit shed as all of the feelings and emotions they had kept hidden poured out into the open; Tina buried her face into his shoulder, clutching to her husband as though he would be pulled from her grasp at any moment. “Of course I want you too, I could never want anyone else either, but…but you deserve so much better, you deserve someone who can give you what you want-”

“I crossed oceans to be with you,” He whispered, still crying heavily. “Do you not know how…how awful it was, some days, being separated from you? I wouldn’t ever be fool enough to give you up, Tina, never, never in a thousand years would I be that big a fool… What I want is you, as trite as that sounds, a-and I want you for as long as you’ll have me.”

The noise she made was somewhere between a laugh and another sob. “I know, I know…I waited for you too: I waited for your letters, for your book, for you… Do you think I’d push you away after all that?” She took his face into her hands, pressing their foreheads closer together. “I’m not going to abandon you, Newt, not now and not ever…but if you really want children, and I can’t give them to you-”

“Stop it,” Newt interrupted, his hold on her tightening just a tad. “If we end up never having children, then so be it – you’re all I need, Tina, and I mean that. I’m not going to leave you, I’ll never leave you.”

He was surprised when she pressed a kiss to his mouth, but he responded all the same; she was still crying, her body trembling somewhat, but he pressed himself against her as his hands drifted to her waist. When they separated, both somewhat out of breath, Newt could feel his eyes stinging with tears again.

“Tina…”

“I need you,” Tina exhaled, voice breaking. “I need you, Newt, I need to know for certain that…that you mean it.”

Somehow they managed to stumble to the bunk that was in his shed, never once separating; he laid her down beneath him, licking his lips before leaning down to trail kisses down the soft expanse of her bare throat. She sighed, a mangled variant of his name mixed with pleasure and tears, hands tangling in his hair. He was tender as he undressed her, his lips following his hands in worshipping her body devotedly.

“Is this still okay?”

“Yes,” Tina agreed, voice tremoring slightly. “Completely.”

It wasn’t long until he undressed too, leaning over her and stroking her cheek. “My absolutely stunning wife. I love you so very much.”

“I love you too,” She managed. “It’s only ever been you. Please, Newt, do it…make love to me.”

As they made love, he mumbled loving sentiments into the hollow of her throat, holding her to him; he would never abandon her, he told her, for she was his wife and she was his – and he was hers too. He didn’t want some exotic wife, not even one whom could give him a family, for all he wanted was this beautiful woman he loved so dearly.

He was there to catch her as she finished, and he was not far behind. They held each other close for a few moments afterwards, recovering from their activities; both were blissful and sated, if only for a short time.

And then she felt the wetness of tears against her collarbone.

“Newt?” Tina whispered, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “Dear, what’s the matter?”

Her husband was silent for a long moment, body still shaking from the intensity of his release, before lifting his head to gaze at her. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I’m so sorry…”

“Shhh, love,” She soothed gently. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m here.”

“I know, I know, it’s…I just…you are everything,” Newt admitted, face flushed from their activities – but also some embarrassment. “I don’t want to be without you, Tina.”

Tina was suddenly cupping his face, her eyes also filled with tears. “Without me? You won’t be, Newt, I promise.”

“But…” He choked, suddenly overcome. “What if it’s my fault we can’t have a child? I know you’re convinced that it’s somehow your fault, but what if it’s my fault? It’s a fair possibility…”

And just like that, she understood. “Newt…”

“What if it’s because of me that we’re not having children? What if I’m…I’m the problem?”

Tina had grown very quiet, clearly trying to sort through the thoughts in her head and comfort her distraught lover efficiently. “Perhaps…Perhaps you had a point earlier.” She took a deep breath, swiftly looking away from him. “Perhaps we should seek out some help.”

A torturous silence fell in the room at her words, and it took a moment for Newt to find the words to respond. “Okay,” He muttered weakly. “Okay.”

They didn’t speak as they separated, moving to clamber underneath the covers of the bed – usually they would sleep outside of the case, in their usual bedroom, but for some reason it seemed only right that they rest in the shed, near to their creatures. Once they were both settled somewhat (not bothering to dress, for there didn’t seem much point), Tina rolled over onto her side to face him; even in the dark, he could tell that she was torn.

“I’m sorry I reacted badly earlier,” She said finally. “But I think you were right and we should see a Healer…like you said, at least we’d know for sure.”

Newt found himself reaching for her, needing to feel the warmth of her bare body against his own, his favourite comfort. “Yes…I do suppose that would be for the best really. There’s no point in continuing this cycle, not when it’s making us both so miserable.”

Tina pressed herself into his side, resting her head on his chest – her preferred position to sleep in – and closed her eyes. “No matter what happens…no matter what they say…you’ll still love me?”

“Of course,” He agreed, his hold on her tightening just a tad. “No matter what, we’ll still love each other…nothing will change that, love. Nothing.”

As expected, the Healers at St Mungo’s had decided that the best course of action would be to run various tests in order to determine any possible problems. An additional appointment was made for a week later to run a few examinations on Tina – and, as it turned out, for Newt to “leave a sample” for testing.

It was a week later, and they were once more seated before Healer McCarthy, Newt bouncing his leg nervously as Tina chewed at her bottom lip. The older woman smiled kindly at them as she went through their papers, making sure that everything was in order; finally, she stood up and used her wand to levitate the files into the air.

“Alright, Mrs Scamander, if you just come with me then we can start the physical examination. Mr Scamander, one of my colleagues will be with you in just a moment to take you to a quieter room.”

Tina looked rather nervous as she was led away, and Newt wished he could go with her, if only to make sure that she wasn’t alone; instead he looked down at the floor and tried to calm the beating of his heart. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done this, if he was being honest, far from it – but it was rather embarrassing all the same.

The male Healer who came to accompany him looked rather sympathetic and smiled cheerily at Newt as he took him down a long corridor and to a small room; it was white-walled, sparse, little furniture save for a few chairs and a table. There was an empty glass object on the table, and he tried not to go too red-faced at the sight of it – he knew exactly what it was for.

“Take as long as you need,” The Healer said kindly, still grinning somewhat as he closed the door behind him. “Just leave it behind the glass window when you’re done.”

Newt sat down on one of the chairs nearest to the table, trying to avoid looking at the cup again just yet; of all the things he had been asked to do, this might have been the most embarrassing – it was one thing in the privacy of a place you called home, but a hospital did not qualify as that at all. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and willing himself to remain level-headed: the sooner he got this over and done with the better.

What a coward he was, he thought to himself: the only contribution he really had to make was by pleasuring himself – Tina would be prodded and interrogated mercilessly, asked intimate questions that even he wasn’t quite sure the answers to, and yet she had gone ahead without a single complaint. He knew that it was because she wanted a child – she had for two years now – and if this perhaps brought them one step closer to achieving that then it would be worth it.

Truthfully, he was terrified of what the results would be: he had made sure to constantly assure Tina that, should the blame lie with her, then he would love her no matter what – but what if it was his fault? What if he was the reason that they had been so far incapable of producing children?

Thoughts like this weren’t helping him in any way – especially not with this – but he couldn’t help it; once the sample was tested and the Healers had the results, that would be it. There would be no uncertainty, no returning to how things had been before – there would be a final outcome, and they would have to work around it no matter what it was.

Newt thought about his wife – how she was most likely feeling the same way he was – and sighed; she was the reason he was doing this, he reminded himself, the reason he was sitting in a small room with a glass jar on a table. For the past two years, he had watched Tina grow more and more disheartened, more depressed with each month where they didn’t conceive a child, and it pained him to see her so unhappy. They had been stuck in the same dreary cycle for two years now: trying to conceive, failing to do so, feeling miserable, trying again…it was exhausting, and it had taken a toll on Tina as well as himself.

He cast a look at the cup and looked away again hurriedly; pleasuring himself into a small cup had not been something he’d ever imagined doing, yet here he was.

I’m doing this for Tina – if this is what she needs me to do, then so be it.

With that in mind, he tried to force himself into that headspace: he’d never get anything done worrying about the future, and he had been the one to suggest seeking help…he had to square up and get on with things, as one might say.

Alright, Newt forced himself to think: I’m doing this for Tina. She’s the reason I am here – I’d do anything for her if it made her happy, even this… She wants for us to have a baby, my baby, and I want her to, so I have to do this…

Somehow he manged to get it done; it took a great deal of imagination and recalling memories on his part, but eventually he managed to do what he needed to into the cup. He took a few minutes to recover, cheeks flushed; when he opened his eyes, he was rather embarrassed by the sight of the cup and had to drag his gaze away to look at something – anything – else. He knew that there was a reason he had done it, but all the same…it was not something he would ever want to do again.

The hardest part was over, Newt told himself as he readjusted his clothing; he just had to leave the cup behind the small sliding glass door on the other side of the room, and that was it. The Healers would test it to determine if there was any problems and give them results in a week or so.

Being honest, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the results or not.

He carefully placed the lid on the cup, making sure not to spill anything, and silently left it behind the sliding glass door; no one appeared to be on the other side watching him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone knew what he’d been doing in this small bare room. Briefly, he found himself wondering just how many other men had been in his position – how many had done the same thing he had just done in a moment of desperation.

It’s okay, Newt told himself in a half-hearted attempt to reassure himself; after all, it’s not as if anyone but myself or the Healers will see it…it’s for us to have a family, it’s important. No need to be so embarrassed really.

Even with that frame of mind, he didn’t want to remain in this room for much longer – the sooner he left and attempted to forget this the better.

Tina’s examination and questions ended that afternoon with the conclusion that she was healthy and didn’t appear to possess any illnesses that would have made it difficult to conceive; far from putting Newt at ease, it only increased his anxiousness for his own results, which would not be available for another week or so. The Healer affirmed that she would let them know when his results were ready so that they could come in for another discussion on what the next step would be.

As soon as they had apparated home, Tina looked visibly relieved.

“I thought…I thought there was something wrong,” She admitted. “When they started asking about my…periods…and they asked if I got them heavy, I was certain that they were gonna say it was me.”

“Well, it doesn’t appear to be you,” Newt assured her, forcing himself to smile despite the fact he was internally worrying very much. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

It had been a week since they had last been intimate together, and so as soon as all of their creatures were settled for the night the two retreated to the bedroom for some very much needed time alone. There were no words as they kissed and embraced, moving together in a way they were rather fond of, and it wasn’t long until they were cuddled underneath the covers together, both sweaty and sated.

Newt’s eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. “If it’s me-”

“I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with either of us,” Tina interrupted quickly, sensing the silent struggle he was enduring. “Maybe we’ve just been trying at the wrong times…maybe there’s nothing at all to be worried about.” Her hand cupped his cheek gently, a kind warmth in her touch. “Don’t fret over this, Newt. Please. There’s no use in it.”

There was no disagreeing with her when she used that tone of voice, firm and set, so he simply nodded and pulled her closer to him so that they could get some much needed sleep; as Tina dozed off beside him, rather content, he couldn’t help but wonder just how much longer he had left to enjoy sleeping beside her before it all crumbled away.

Healer McCarthy was smiling as she greeted Newt and Tina a week later, a folder full of papers in arm. “It’s lovely to see you both again. Now, Mr Scamander, you have a choice; some men prefer to be given their results in private, as a matter of pride – so if you’d prefer for your wife to wait outside then that’s perfectly fine.”

Newt cast a look at Tina – and he knew immediately what his answer would. “No, I’d prefer for Tina to be with me, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” The Healer agreed kindly. “If you’ll just come with me then, we’ll go to my office for a chat.”

Her hand slipped into his, a small comfort but a comfort nonetheless, as they followed the older witch down the corridor and into a small but well-decorated room. As soon as they were seated, Healer McCarthy looked at them both seriously – and it was obvious that whatever the news, it wasn’t good.

“As you’re both aware by now, the examination that we performed on you, Mrs Scamander, showed that you’re relatively healthy – even with a heavy cycle, it should still be more than possible for you to carry children.” Her eyes shifted to Newt, and he felt his stomach drop. “I’m afraid, Mr Scamander, that the issue here seems to lie with you.”

He could feel his wife’s hand squeezing his own, an anchor as he listened to the very news he had dreaded hearing for so long.

Healer McCarthy looked rather sympathetic as she gazed at him, her papers and folders spread out before her on the desk. “In the sample you gave, we found that while there were plenty of seminal fluids, there weren’t very many… “swimmers”, as it were – certainly not enough to impregnate your wife. To add, the ones that were there had a low motility…any would have died before having the chance to join an egg.” She paused. “I’m very sorry. I know that this is very difficult for you both to take in. If you like, I can leave you two alone for a moment before we discuss the options that you both now have.”

Tina gnawed on her bottom lip, looking to her husband; his face was uncharacteristically darkened, angered, as he swallowed. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Alright then,” The Healer acquiesced calmly. “The chances of you getting pregnant with your husband’s child, Mrs Scamander, are extremely low.”

“But not impossible?”

Healer McCarthy gave a small nod. “Nothing’s impossible, dear, but it’s extremely unlikely – I wouldn’t count on it happening, I’m afraid. Now, if you both decide that you still want children, then there are other options; adoption, fostering…they’re both very big decisions, not to be taken lightly, so I don’t recommend making your mind up immediately, especially after the news you’ve just received.” She paused. “Again, I am…truly sorry.”

Neither of them spoke as they returned home and went through the usual daily motions without enthusiasm; immediately after they returned, Newt retreated into the case with his creatures – Tina knew, even without him saying a word, that he needed to be alone for a while. Instead, she settled for making herself a cup of coffee (as strong as she could) and curling up in the bedroom upstairs with a book.

Newt appeared a few hours later, avoiding her gaze as he walked into the room and started to undress; by this time, Tina had changed into her nightclothes and was waiting for him in the dark whilst sitting against the headboard. She silently watched him as he undressed and changed into his own pyjamas before settling into bed; he didn’t look at her as he rolled onto his side to face away from her, clearly not in the mood for words.

But it needed to be spoken about, whether they liked it or not, and they both knew it.

They were silent for a few minutes, both waiting for the other to speak first; finally, Newt gave a sigh, his voice quiet as he finally allowed himself to speak to her.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, still not looking at his wife. “I’m so sorry.”

Tina’s heart clenched in her chest. “Newt…”

“This is my fault,” He stated, tears glistening in his eyes. “It’s all my fault we can’t have a child…it’s all because of me. I’ve…I’ve failed you as a husband, Tina.”

“No, you haven’t,” She denied weakly, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning him towards her. “You haven’t failed me at all, dear, I promise.”

“It’s my fault that we don’t have a baby,” Newt murmured, looking up at her through bleary and tired eyes. “You deserve so much better…you deserve a husband who can give you what you want.” He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I know I’ve let you down…and so if you wish to end our marriage, to wed someone who can give you what you want, then I won’t blame you-”

“Stop it, Newt!” Tina exclaimed, though it was clear she wasn’t angry. “Don’t be so ridiculous – I’m not going to ask to annul our marriage because of this, not at all!” She cupped his face with her hands, forcing him to look up at her so he knew she was serious. “We promised in our vows that we’d never leave each other, and I intend to stick by that promise until I die – nothing will change that, Newt, nothing.”

He choked, emotions suddenly getting the best of him. “But…But you want a child…”

“I wanted a child with you,” She reiterated firmly. “Our child, something we made together – but if we can’t have one then I will learn to accept it. I don’t need a herd of children to make me happy because I’m at my happiest when I’m with you, Newt, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“Tina-”

“We have our creatures,” Tina stated firmly. “They’re our children already, even if they’re not human; we already protect and love them so much, both of us. Besides, you heard the Healer: there’s a chance that someday we will have a child – nothing is impossible.”

She wrapped him in her embrace, holding him as he started to sob into her side; she said nothing, instead waiting patiently as he finally release the emotions and heartbreak he was feeling to her. She was also disappointed by what they had been told, just as much as he was – but she had meant every word of what she had said too: there was no one else she could imagine spending the rest of her life with, no one else who made her feel the way he did.

“I love you,” She told him firmly, turning his face up towards her. “Baby or no baby, I will always love you.”

Newt was still crying as Tina brushed the hair from his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead; for a few moments they remained this way, a quiet calm settling over them. After a short time he shifted, and she could feel his warm breath on the skin of her neck and chin – and then his lips seeking hers; despite her surprise, she found herself kissing him back on instinct, and for a moment it was easy to forget.

But then she felt him tense, and he was pulling away suddenly.

“You don’t have to,” He muttered, avoiding her gaze. “There’s…There’s really no point, we won’t make a baby…”

“I am not doing this to make a baby,” Tina stated firmly. “I’m doing this because I want you… But if you don’t want me to, then that’s fine; I won’t force you, Newt, not if it makes you uncomfortable. We can just sleep if you want.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, casting his eyes downwards before closing them tightly. “I…I don’t know,” He finally said. “I feel silly and pathetic saying this aloud but…but I do need you, Tina.”

“Yes… I need you too,” She agreed, cupping his face and trying to pull him back towards her. “Let me show you, Newt: let me show you how much I want you.”

“I…I need you,” He repeated, voice extremely weak. “I need you, Tina…I need you…”

She shushed him gently, pressing small kisses to his face; when she reached his mouth, however, she hesitated for just a moment. “Let me look after you, just this once…let me take control of things.“

He gave a small nod, and with that she leaned forwards to kiss him; there was no fire or passion but a loving tenderness, as if she was waiting for him to push her away again. It took a few moments for him to respond, and she wondered if he did want this – but then she felt his mouth working against hers slowly, his hands coming to grip her own tightly, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

When they separated, his eyes were glistening again. “I…I…”

“I know,” Tina said sincerely, rubbing her thumb over his cheek; he hadn’t shaved over the past few days, and his stubble felt rough to touch. “You don’t need to say it – I know. You’re mine, Newt, alright? You’re always mine.”

For a few minutes they merely kissed, slow but warm, familiarising themselves with each other. As her hands drifted down to his pyjama shirt, she pulled back somewhat and looked at him seriously, a question.

“Is this…still okay?” She asked, resting their foreheads together. “You can say ‘no’ at any time if you want, I promise.”

“No,” Newt said hoarsely. “Still okay. Please, Tina…”

There was no rush as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it down his shoulders; with this off, she leaned in to press another kiss to his mouth, reassuring him gently. She could feel the tears wetting his cheeks as he returned the kiss, could feel the pain he was going through as keenly as her own.

“Hold on,” Tina whispered, reaching for the buttons on her own nightwear. “Only fair.”

He was reminded of their first time all of a sudden, of how tentative they had been, and his heart ached at how simple things had been once. Not for the first time, he became aware of just how lucky he really was to have her – why she would have wanted to marry him in the first place had always been a mystery to him, but he hadn’t questioned it in case it ruined things.

Tina embraced him once more, her arms welcoming and as familiar to him now as his case with his creatures; as her mouth found his in another soft kiss, he hesitantly found himself moving his hands to her back so as to hold her. He wanted to feel her, not out of lust but because he needed to know she was still there, that she hadn’t abandoned him: he wanted to hold her close, just to know that she was there with him.

“I love you,” She murmured again between kisses, one hand cupping his face while the other slid around his shoulders. “I don’t want you to ever think otherwise.”

Newt closed his eyes as he tried to relax more into the kiss; he had been admittedly worried that she would no longer want him after the news, that she would want to leave and find a husband who could give her what she wanted…but she hadn’t, she had proclaimed that she still loved and wanted him. A part of him was relieved – the other slightly less rational part was still waiting for her to turn around and kick him out of their bed.

A soft hand dusted over his shoulders, down over the hard planes of his chest and his stomach; it stopped just above this waistband of his pyjama bottoms, and she pulled away to allow them both some space to breathe and to look him in the eye. “Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to push you-”

“No,” He interrupted, not looking at her. “I don’t want to stop. Keep going.”

She remained slow as she continued, reaching for him – only to falter when she found evidence that he was not quite enjoying this as she had hoped.

He choked suddenly, lurching away from her. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” Tina said quickly, pulling him back towards her. “Newt, listen to me; I’m not upset. If you don’t want to do this then please don’t force yourself – I won’t be angry or disappointed. I only thought that…I mean it, if you want to stop then I promise that I will not mind.”

“It’s not that,” Newt muttered, and he was starting to cry again. “I want to, I do, but…but I keep thinking about it, Tina, that I can’t give you a baby and…and I can’t help it.”

“Newt…”

But he was moving away, hiding his face like a wounded animal. “I can’t give you children – the one thing I should be able to do naturally. You deserve so much better, Tina, and I am…so sorry.”

“No, love,” She disagreed, shaking her head as her own tears started to prick at her eyes. He was surprised when her hands suddenly cupped his face, steering him towards her. “Listen to me, Newt: you are more than…than that to me. Nature doesn’t always get things right, and you know this better than anyone. I won’t lie to you, I’m…I’m devastated that we can’t have a baby,” She admitted carefully, wary of hurting him. “I wanted to have our baby more than I thought I would…But this doesn’t change how I feel about you at all. I married you because I love you – if we cannot have children together, then we have nieces and nephews and our creatures.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” He sniffed, looking away.

“I am not lying!” Tina stated, clearly appalled by this. “Newt, look at me: I would never lie to you, never." A tear rolled down her face, and he watched it fall with wide eyes. “You promised that if it was because of me then you’d still love me…why can’t you believe the same of me?”

Newt swallowed thickly. “I…I don’t know.”

“I do still love you,” She insisted fiercely, and she was suddenly crying with him – he couldn’t remember a time when she had cried quite like this. “For better or for worse. Please don’t think I don’t, Newt, please… I don’t need a baby to make me happy – you’ve already made me so much happier than I imagined ever being.”

For a few minutes they just held each other, sharing the grief that they both felt as they cried and embraced; it felt painful and raw as they both came undone, trying to offer each other comfort whilst also allowing their own miseries to wash over them. It was only as they both started to calm down, sobs dying into hiccups and sniffles, that Tina pulled away and rubbed at her eyes; underneath the hurt and sorrow, he could see that she was understanding too – giving even when she was upset herself.

“I don’t think we should,” She whispered mournfully, reaching for where her pyjama shirt had been discarded further up the bed. “I…I don’t want to force you.”

Newt felt his heart constrict in his chest. “No, you’re not forcing me at all, I promise. I do want you…I need you. I want to do this – I want to be close to you.”

Tina hesitated, her shirt clutched between her fingers as she considered what he had said. “Are you sure?” She questioned uncertainly. “Are you really sure about this?”

“Yes,” Newt affirmed, and he suddenly found himself reaching out for her, needing to feel her skin against his own. “Please, Tina…please.”

She dropped the garment back onto the bed, moving closer to him; she still looked unsure, even somewhat anxious. “Only if this is what you really want…as I’ve said, we don’t have to-”

“I want to,” He repeated, bringing his fingers to brush along the edge of her cheek. “I… A part of me needs to know that you do still want me.”

She took a deep breath, resting their foreheads together for a moment. “I do…always, Newt. Always.”

It was a newfound tenderness that they joined together in the dark; Tina continued to murmur and breathe reassuring sentiments into his ear – he could feel his heart swell when she called him “My Newt”, but he tried not to show it, for getting too emotional would do him no good really. He agreed, instead, for he was hers. Each kiss that she peppered him with was to convey to him everything she wanted him to know; she wanted him to know that she loved him so much more than she would have dared admit aloud, to know that she would never leave him, that of course she wanted him, in all the ways it was possible to want another person. His response was somewhat more obvious this time, fumbling as he kissed and drank in everything she had to offer like it was his last chance.

When they broke apart again for much needed air, Tina’s hands came to gently push at his shoulders. “Lie down for me, Newt; let me show you.”

Newt did as she asked, somewhat hesitantly, and watched as she moved to hover over him. Her mouth started near to his ear, kissing softly at first before moving down to his bare throat and nipping – not hard enough to hurt but enough to make him gasp out her name.

“Mine,” He heard her murmur into his skin. “Always mine…always.”

The kisses started to trail lower, over his collarbones and his chest; she paused over a particularly visible scar, just a few inches from where she knew his heart was, and brushed her lips over it. He couldn’t help but shiver slightly at the feeling, tilting his head back with a low sigh.

“My brave husband,” Tina stated, moving onto another scar. “You’re so brave and I am so lucky…and nothing will change how I feel…nothing…”

He closed his eyes as her kisses drifted down his torso, worshipping each of the scars she found and whispering an adoration into his skin to reassure him. She watched his face as she did this, studying his reactions to be sure that he was still completely consenting and comfortable; when she had finished kissing a scar on his lower stomach, she sat up and slipped her hands in his, squeezing his fingers in her own.

“Don’t you see?” She whispered to him, suddenly emotional. “You’re so much more to me than…than having children; you’re my husband, and I love you. I will keep saying it until you realize it, Newt – I love you, and I’ll always be here for you.”

Newt felt the air catch in his throat as he looked up at her, suddenly struck by the realisation that he was so ridiculously, unbelievably blessed; that afternoon as they had returned from their appointment he had thought that she would surely leave him, be so repelled by the fact he was the reason they could not conceive a child – but she hadn’t talked of leaving him at all, instead being so incredibly understanding and giving. She was a giver in every sense of the word, giving him so much more than he felt he deserved sometimes, and he found himself overwhelmed.

Tina brought one his hands, still linked with her own, to her lips and pressed a kiss to where their fingers interlocked; she maintained eye contact with him, gazing with unabashed adoration. “My Newt.”

“Please,” He found himself muttering, a surprising desperation in his voice. “Tina, I want you…will you show me?”

The corners of her lips lifted as she leaned down over him. “Of course, love.”

Newt found himself watching as she unlinked their hands and peppered kisses back down his body; when she had finished worshipping him once more, they met in an impassioned kiss that caused him to reach for her. They sat up together, holding each other close, as they continued their activities; when they were joined in the most intimate way possible, Tina shifted and looked down at his face – even in the dark it was obvious that he was trying to stop himself from crying.

“I love you,” She found herself murmuring softly, pressing her lips against his temple.

It took him a moment to reply, and when he spoke his voice was quiet. “I love you too.”

The pace that they made love with was erratic and heated – but it wasn’t about the physical gratification, really; he could hear her soft adorations in the air around them, could feel the love in her touch. Similarly, he wanted to drink her in and forget himself; it was a wonderful dance, he found himself thinking, a dance where they both gave and took in equal abundances.

He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, to thank her for still wanting and needing him – but he couldn’t find the words, instead only the occasional sound of pleasure.  He refused to cry – not now, not while he had her loving him in such a way. He wanted this moment to last forever, this moment where they were intimately close and connected.

It didn’t last particularly long, but that was hardly the point.

Tina recovered first, her breathing shallow; she retracted her nails from his shoulders and instead slowly spread her hands over his skin – she had left light scratches and marks across his torso, marking him as hers and hers only. He had pushed his face into her chest when he had finished, and his entire body was shaking with small tremors; she pressed a kiss to his forehead, running her hand through his hair and feeling the sweat-soaked curls through her fingers.

It didn’t surprise her when she felt his tears on her chest, his quiet muffled sniffles echoing in the air.

“Newt, love,” She whispered, still slightly out of breath. “Talk to me – tell me what you’re thinking.”

Newt gave a choke, trying to contain himself. “I’m…I’m sorry,” Her husband croaked, lifting his face to look at her. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Tina stated calmly, brushing her thumb over his cheek ever so softly.

She held him as he cried, burying his face into the crook of her neck; it was uncomfortable for them to remain in this position, especially seeing as they were both sated and sweaty, but neither of them made to part just yet. She didn’t say a word as he allowed his emotions to pour out, instead dutifully stroking his hair back and holding him against her body.

Eventually his tears stopped, replaced by unsteady exhales and a slight hiccup as he forced himself to calm down; she was still there with him, gently cupping his face and tilting it towards her so that they were eye-to-eye.

“I’m sorry,” Newt said again quietly.

“You don’t need to be,” Tina repeated, resting her forehead against his. “It’s not your fault – you had no control over something like this… Besides, I don’t need a child to be happy, not really – I just need you. We can continue trying because it’s not impossible, the Healer herself said so, and if nothing comes of it then that will be fine because we’ll have our creatures and our nieces and nephews…and we’ll have each other, of course.”

His grip on her tightened, firm but not painful, and he inhaled heavily; for a moment he was silent, and she waited patiently for him to speak again. When he finally did just minutes later, his voice was weak and pained – but there was also a sense of relief too, she noted.

“Thank you.” His eyes were teary once more, though not with misery now. “Thank you, Tina.”

They slowly separated, not bothering with their nightclothes and instead slipping beneath the sheets; immediately Tina was wrapping her arms around him, nestling into his side with her head on his chest – as normal, as if nothing had changed between them.

Nothing had changed, Newt realized, and he felt the slightest feelings of hope and warmth settle in his stomach at the thought.

“I love you,” He murmured, closing his eyes as he relaxed into her touch.

Her voice came to him in the dark, clear as day and like a shining beacon. “I love you too – always, love.”

Two Years Later

It was relatively late when Tina joined him in the case that evening; Credence had gone home, and most of the creatures were either asleep or preparing to rest. She looked somewhat tired, but her smile was genuine – and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Long day at work then?” Newt mused, turning back to the Graphorn he had been attending to; it wasn’t the first night she had come home late, usually caught up with paperwork or another task at the office. “You should get to bed early, love, I can settle everyone for the night.”

“Actually,” Tina said quickly, and there was the slightest hint of nervousness hidden in her voice. “I’ll wait for you to finish your rounds…we need to talk.”

He was admittedly surprised by this but nodded nonetheless. “I see. Very well then – I won’t be long.”

It took just ten minutes to finish putting all of their creatures to rest for the night; his wife was waiting patiently for him near the tree that homed their Bowtruckles, arms folded as she gnawed on her lip. She forced herself to smile, however, as he approached and took the hand he offered without hesitation.

“Alright, what do we need to talk about?” Newt asked, looking her over.

Tina hesitated, looking across the expanse of the case – their case – at all of their creatures. “I…haven’t been feeling all that well lately.”

Ah, yes, he knew that already: she had come down with quite a nasty bout of flu just a couple of weeks previously, and he had helped to nurse her back to full health despite her complaints. “Are you feeling ill again?”

“Not quite,” She said slowly, looking back up at him. “But I haven’t exactly been feeling myself, so I thought I’d go to the Healer to check – just to be sure.”

“You should have told me,” He stated, somewhat anxiously. “I would have come with you-”

“It was a last minute appointment,” She confessed quickly, casting her eyes down at the floor. “I…I wasn’t sure if I should go, really, it seemed silly…”

Newt frowned but didn’t comment on her latter comment. “Well, what did the Healer say? Is there something that we need to be concerned about?”

Again, Tina paused and seemed to consider something before speaking. ���I’m just thinking… Do you think we’ll have room for a new addition?”

“Well, I suppose it depends on the size,” He pondered thoughtfully. “There’s only so much space, even if I do extend some of it more. To add, there are some creatures that I’m sure we sadly can’t keep down here, no matter how much we might want to-”

“Newt,” Tina interrupted, and she waited until he looked at her. “I’m not talking about a creature…not really…”

He stared at her for a long moment, not quite understanding – and then their eyes met, and it hit him suddenly just what she meant. She waited with bated breath to see how he would respond, not looking away.

“Tina.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you mean…?”

And then she beamed at him, tears in her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Suddenly Newt was kissing her hard on the mouth, pulling her towards him; when they broke away, he gave a shaky delirious laugh. “Oh Merlin…”

Before she could respond, her husband had sunk to his knees in front of her; he placed his hands on her stomach, spreading his palms wide as he looked on with wonder. Tina felt her heart warm when he pushed his face into her stomach, kissing it through the fabric of her work blouse – when he pulled away, however, he was sobbing.

“Newt, what’s the matter?” She asked anxiously. “Have I done something wrong?”

He choked, shaking his head. “No, no, not at all, it’s just…” His hands slipped into hers, fingers intertwined as he struggled to find words. “I think I need to hear you say it. Please, Tina, say it so I know for certain…”

She tearfully laughed, squeezing his hands tightly. “Newt…I’m pregnant.”

The noise he made was halfway between a sob and a chuckle. “Again.”

“I’m pregnant,” Tina repeated, and there were tears streaming down her face now too. “I’m pregnant – we’re having a baby, Newt.”

“Yes,” Newt gasped, resting his head against her abdomen. “Merlin, we are.”

“We’re having a baby,” She cried joyously, heart feeling as though it were about to explode through her chest. “We made a baby.”

His breath caught in his chest.

“We made a baby, Newt,” She reiterated tearfully. “After so long…”

He unlinked their hands so that he could push up the fabric of her shirt; before she could say anything else, he was pressing soft kisses to her navel as his shoulders shook. “We did it,” He whispered disbelievingly. “Tina…this is real.”

“You’re happy.”

“Of course,” He agreed, standing now; his hands remained on her stomach as he leaned in towards her, lips brushing against her temple. “I am so…so unbelievably happy and overjoyed, Tina. You are…glorious…magnificent. And you, you’re happy too?”

Tina forced back a sob of her own as she held him close to her, mouth turning up into one of the most beautiful smiles he had seen. “Yes, yes, I am!”

“I’m going to worship you,” Newt declared, taking her hand and leading her towards the shed. “I’m going to worship you and every single moment of this…I love you so much, Tina. Thank you.”

Tina gave a small laugh as she followed him eagerly, squeezing his fingers tightly in her own. “I love you too, Newt – always.”

*

THIS BASTARD IS FINISHED, THANK FUCK FOR THAT.

Literally. This fic is like…an alien, and I have finally killed it. (okay that’s a weird thing to say but it’s late and I’m tired)

I hope you all enjoyed (kind of). I kind of did enjoy writing it on a weird level…? If only because it was something new and separate from what I’ve written before.

Anyway, thanks for reading, I love you all!