#and sometimes I straight up don’t mention important things in my life that I talked about elsewhere

[0rionz-belt]

I’m so tired of trying to be me

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 14!!!

Happy Birthday to regular reader and commenter @ritz-writes !! :D

Here's the sculpture mentioned in the fic: https://noma.org/collection/history-of-the-conquest/

You'll notice that the poll at the bottom isn't anything suuuuper important. There's just some plot things that I want to get running in the next section, so I'm gonna be writing it up and posting it tomorrow. But I promise you that it's still an important choice to make (also idk what to pick so that means you all get to pick lol ).

Okay! Here we go! Back to New Orleans with The Anti-Apocalypse Crew!

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Now that you all were in the city, it only took Anathema the next morning to hone in on her signal. To Aziraphale's delight, it led you all to the sculpture garden at the New Orleans Museum of Art. To your delight, it led more specifically to a sculpture of a person riding a snail (to victory no doubt).

"I think this might be my favourite statue ever," You say aloud (because this author is assuming you would agree with her opinion). There is a person you don’t know standing in front of the statue. He gives a dissatisfied huff.

"It's called 'History of the Conquest,'" he tells you, despite not being asked, "The ever-slow and over-confident march of the entitled towards a future where they're in charge. Everyone else suffers while they promise glory and prosperity."

Your jaw drops open. This person looks like a 'surfer dude,' but is talking like someone who's spent most of their life in a cubicle changing 1s to 0s for 8 straight hours a day.

"WOW! That is BLEAK," is what finally comes out of your mouth. "Proper ray of sunshine, you are."

Okay, that sounded really British. You briefly wonder about the effect of spending so much time around Crowley and Aziraphale before Surfer Dude starts to laugh.

"I've seen a few things, human. Been 'round longer than you've been alive, will be long after you die. You're no more than a moth in my eyes."

"Wow," You can't help but repeat yourself, "Again, bleak." Also rude, but priorities.

"It is what it is," Surfer Dude replies. You shake your head and turn to Aziraphale and Crowley.

"You're up," You concede. You have no idea who this is, but he called you "human," and compared you to a moth. Whoever this person is, they’re probably the one Anathema’s had you looking for. He doesn’t look like Jesus, but maybe he will know where Jesus is. Either way, Anathema doesn’t get things wrong. If her work brought you to this person, then he’s the person you need to talk to.

That being said, whoever this is, he's the Ineffable Husbands' department and not yours. Sometimes you just gotta tap out and let the celestials handle their own kind. Now, this doesn't mean that you're not going to sit back and watch. Oh no, you want to see how this plays out.

"Can I have some popcorn?" You stage-whisper to Crowley as you pass him.

"Piss off," Crowley stage-whispers back. Despite his complaint, you notice a tiny Michael-Sheen smile on Aziraphale's face, and you return to Anathema, who looks surprised and is holding two small cartons of popcorn. You gratefully take one and have a seat on a convenient bench that is located conveniently within earshot. This is gonna be good.

"Hello," Aziraphale begins as he approaches, "I'm Aziraphale."

"Right," Surfer Dude says with a roll of his eyes, "The Angel of the Eastern Gate. I'm so honoured."

"Here I thought manners were important to angels," Crowley replies, sidling up next to Aziraphale. Surfer-Dude-Who-Is-Apparently-An-Angel takes in Crowley and raises an eyebrow.

"And here I thought demons didn't make a habit of hanging off angels' arms," Surfer Dude scoffs in in return.

Crowley snarls.

"Yes, well, each of us seems to be an anomaly in our own right," Aziraphale says with an appeasing smile, "This is Crowley. Might we have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"No."

"Ah, right. Well, that is to your own discretion I suppose."

"Rude is what it is," sneers Crowley.

"Regardless, we've come to this garden with the guidance of our friend here, hoping to find, well, Jesus as it happens."

Surfer-Dude-Angel-Person throws his head back and laughs outright.

"You're looking for who now? JESUS? HA! Bit of soul-searching for you, is it? Spiritual journey? Pilgrimage to the Holy Land? You're in the wrong place for that!" He keeps laughing.

I mean, you get the laughter. It definitely sounds weird to a third party. Crazy even. But if this guy is an angel, then shouldn't it sound perfectly reasonable?

"Oi," Crowley interrupts, clearly impatient, "We're trying to save the world here. And since angels don't normally take holiday time, I'd think helping us might be in your best interest."

"You think you can stop the Second Coming? Ha! There isn't another technicality that you can throw around this time. This one's it. Enjoy the giant snail statues while they last, because it won't be for much longer."

"You know an awful lot," You call from the bench, "And you like to talk. So just get to the part about Jesus so we can leave you to be miserable on your own." You popcorn is already almost finished, and you frown into your carton. If only you could do miracles. You'd refill it yourself.

Surfer-Dude-Angel-Person laughs again.

"Yeah, okay, I like this one," he says, nudging a thumb in your direction. He turns away from Crowley and Aziraphale and strides towards you. Suddenly your popcorn carton is full again, so you look up. Okay, maybe he's not so bad. He reaches out a hand to you.

"Call me Sardis, Little Moth."

After a moment of hesitation, you shake his hand. He turns back to Crowley and Aziraphale.

"I can see why you've adopted this one," he says, then turns his attention to Anathema, paying no mind to the garbled protests coming from Crowley. "And since we're doing introductions...?"

"Anathema Device," says Anathema with a nod. She would probably shake his hand, but between her equipment and her popcorn, her hands are full.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss Anathema," Sardis nods at her before finally looking back at Aziraphale and Crowley. "You won't find Jesus here. But meet me for drinks later and I'll tell you what you need to know to find him."

"You're unnecessarily cryptic, Sardis," You say with a raised eyebrow and a mouth full of popcorn. He laughs again.

"Well, Little Moth," his eyes have a sparkle in them now as he looks at you, "Gotta keep myself entertained somehow."

Sardis insists on giving you all a tour of the sculpture garden, but refuses to say anything more about Jesus, or how he knows about Armageddon, or why he isn't in Heaven, or anything else that you actually WANT to talk about. He insists that such talk isn't for a quiet garden full of art. It isn't until he lays a cryptic finger beside his nose and winks at you that something clicks in your memory.

Remember, back before JK Rowling turned out to be an awful person, back when everyone read Harry Potter? EVERYONE, RIGHT?? Perhaps, dear Reader, you remember the chapter in book 5 where Hermione calls a meeting at The Hog's Head because it’s less crowded. Hermione figures the sparse crowd means that there are fewer people to see them together. Perhaps you also remember when, later in the book, this action comes back to bite them, and they are told very sternly that they should have met at the Three Broomsticks precisely BECAUSE it was busier. A busy pub meant they would have been less likely to be overheard.

Suddenly you look around the garden and notice the sparse, but very much there, collection of people. Just the right number of people that could listen to your conversation if they wanted to without you being any the wiser. Oh.

Oh.

Maybe the cryptic is a little bit necessary after all. He’s still overdoing it in your opinion, but whatever floats his goat.

You part ways after his tour, agreeing to meet at a local bar at 9pm. There’s enough time to go back to the hotel, freshen up, and get something to eat before you make your way there.

“Well,” Aziraphale says back at the hotel, “This Sardis certainly is a character.”

“I know the name from somewhere,” You trail off in thought. Where have you heard it before? Sardis…Tardis…Sardine….You’re not sure, but it rings a bell.

Anathema is already flipping through notebooks. Aziraphale has picked up his copy of the Bible, and Crowley is on his phone. You figure everyone else has it covered, and sure enough, it’s Crowley who finds it first. Google, no doubt.

“Ha! Found the sod! He’s in Revelation.”

“Oh!” You practically jump as recognition finally hits. “He’s one of the seven angels! The ones we didn’t think were here!”

“You didn’t think any of them were here?” Anathema asks, “Did you even check, or did you just assume?”

“Well Muriel said…” You go quiet, before clearing your throat and trying again. “We didn’t look into it far at all, no.”

“So exactly what work did you do before you called me?”

“Umm…….” You say.

“Nnngggh” Crowley adds.

“A great deal less than we thought at the time, apparently,” Aziraphale finally admits with a sigh.

“You are all really bad at saving the world.” Anathema shakes her head.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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[blueathens]

Once Upon A Time - Chapter One

Summary: Charles was never allowed to leave the castle, until one day he, and his best friend Pierre, decided to break the rule and leave the castle walls, only to bump into the well-known criminal, Robin Hood, who doesn’t see them in the same golden light that they were raised within. But Charles decides to ignore her hatred and becomes the bane of her existence.

Song: Whistle Shop by Roger Miller Quote: ‘You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.’ Word Count: 9819

TW: A direct narrator (only at times, then switches to third person - give the feel of a book being read to you like someone usual did for us when we were children), mention of death, mention of murder, 

A/N: Not proof-read or edited. A/N 2: Taglist and detailed references found in reblog!

Masterlist//Main Masterlist

          ACT ONE, CHAPTER ONE

(Ah, where to begin? How about once upon a time…

…How many times have you heard that to begin a story? Let’s do something else.

In a far-off land, where – what? That’s been done too? In fairy tales? Ha, no, this story is far from a fairy tale, in fact it isn’t even one. Nor is it a legend or a myth, or even a bedtime story that you were grown and raised on as a child, this isn’t a story that you’ll know line by line, and this is not something that will be turned into a film or tv show.

No.

This is simply life.

With our Planet Earth that holds vast oceans, forests, and lands such as England, Greece, Monaco, Zosnurg and – you’re kidding…you don’t have a country called Zosnurg on your version of Earth?

What about pirates? Mermaids? Sirens? Dragons? Fairies? Krakens? Vampire Mermaids? Chimeras?

…None?

So, this would be like one of your stupid fantasy books then? Okay…well, let’s just get some things straight then before we start this boo – these lives that I’ll be talking about.

(Which I suppose in some way is a story if I’m talking abo– I, as a narrator, will stop talking now…)

(I do apologise)

Rule One.

This is not a fairy tale.

Yes, we have witches and princes’, and balls, and enchanted forests, and adult-eating witches, and even the children-eating witches too, mermaids of all forms, dragons, chimeras, and even werewolves and lycans, pukwudgie, and dryads.

And yes there is a yucky love story.

And yes there are sword fights, and war, and love and hatred, and death and –

Alright, I know this may sound like a ‘fairy-tale’ but isn’t everything a fairy tale? You have two love interests who have to go through a lot to be together? Sounds kind of like one to me…Only difference is that we don’t need to battle a dragon, well talking to my mother sometimes feels like I’m battling a–

Anyways, life is a fairy tale, a rubbish one, but a fairy tale, nevertheless.

But this isn’t the typical annoying fairy tale where the knight in shining armour goes and rescues the princess from her tower and shares a true loves kiss once the dragon is slayed.

No, that’s just fucking lame.

Instead the prince befriends a dragon, and he doesn’t save a princess, there are no princesses, well there are, but they aren’t important, this isn’t about them.

This is about the prince and the criminal and – what on earth are you talking about? You’ve seen fairy tales like this before? Get lost.

I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, this isn’t a fairy tale – this is real, not make belief, but real.

This isn’t so called Aladdin or Rapunzel – I mean Tangled – this is real life.

This isn’t a fairy tale.

In fairy tales life is presented as blissful and magical and makes you want to gouge your eyes out because you know you can never live a life where birds will get you ready for the day. Whilst in other fairy tales you feel like you are on the spinning teacups, and nausea creeps up on you from what you’re experiencing.

(Cause I’ll come clean now, I’ve never had any of my grandmothers be swallowed up by a wolf or ever seen a man become blinded by brambles).

No, these lives I’ll be telling you about will either leave you crying or smiling or perhaps even laughing – but most likely you’ll be crying, cursing my name for ever telling you about these people.

I am not sorry.

But just a pre warning – this is not a fairy tale.

Rule Two.

Don’t worry, you won’t have to hear my lovely narration voice all the time, I chose not to.

(I don’t get paid enough for that).

But when I do decide to talk with you I will do so in italics and in brackets (as so illustrated) – I have a few notes about these people for example how bloody stupid our main female character is and –

Rule Three.

We do not, and I mean, do not break out into a musical number, we don’t do that here. Absolutely not. And no singing birds are going to help get anyone dressed either or clean their house – they aren’t lazy – life doesn’t allow anyone to be this lazy.

There are no such things as true loves kiss – a little kiss is not bringing anyone to life – unless magic is involved of course, but that’s an entirely different story.

There is no happy endings too, that doesn’t exist, never has, never will, people will die, we will cry, but then we’ll move on and carry them with us.

Even she will di–

Rule Four.

No spoilers.

(Now, that’s all the rules I can read in my messy handwriting across this coffee-stained napkin that obviously didn’t contain the pretty barista’s number.

…

There was no pretty barista

It was just Sue, the sixty-old woman who knows my order off by heart, but claims to dislike me – however, she did smile at me earlier after I spilt coffee all over myself, so guess she doesn’t hate me…)

Oh and –

Rule Five.

This is not a fairy tale.)

                                             ❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

This is the story about a girl named Y/n and it starts with the sun.

Most are unaware how the once worshipped as a god by various of religions and cults ever came around, and just like the star that’ll burn the believers who venture too close, no one could remember how their King became King and when the Queen fell pregnant three times, gifting their world with three beautiful boys.

The first passed the crown down, the third shall remain a prince, and the second is deemed to be king one day.

To the world, this families beginnings felt like a fever dream – a gorgeous one though, and most carried such a strong love for them, but not all, some carried a strong hatred for them and had been wanting a revolution for ages.

A passerby once told his children, after a trip to Eynsworth one spring, that he never had much thought of their sun being a star, he knew it was, but he never felt like it was. Not until he, after meeting the royal family, had the pleasure in holding their second born, a few months after his birth, and my, the passerby never felt so close to the sun, nor did he fear being burnt. In his hands he was holding something golden; something godly. Just like the sun. But it wasn’t the sun, no, it was a gift from the golden beams above them, he was a star. He was their new star, their sun.

On the 16th of October a son was born. A prince. And he was given the name Charles.  

Their future king.

Our star, our sun.

It was hard not to love the prince who found himself trapped within castle walls, barely venturing out into the world, but when he does he’s constantly close to his father as they enter new lands (for him at least) where all hand his gifts to his knights – his protectors – with flowers and gifts. Only soft smiles were what he was allowed to retrieve, no other gifts of any sorts should be handed to him directly.

(There were many soft smiles which later turns into flirty looks from those his age as he grew up).

Along with growing older, where falling in love was more on someone’s mind, Charles never become blind in seeing how his best friend and his first knight-in-training, Pierre Gasly, wasn’t shy of the extra attention that was given when Charles was allowed to see the world outside the castle walls. Little winks thrown around and bright smiles whilst the prince watched in disgust before taking a strong interest in the world around him, watching how the clouds glided through the sky, forming different works of arts for all to enjoy, and how the branches of the trees waved them off for their travels, knowing the next time they are seen a new image will be formed, quite possibly a picture of what they saw on their travels.

(All in all, one person stayed on his mind, the one he meets growing up, the other main character of our stor–of these lives).

Once, at the age of seven, he saw the sea for the first time, and he wondered what it would be like to feel the salty air tickling his skin, embracing him in a warm hug where his cologne is replaced with the smell of the sea. He even wondered what life as a fish would be like, swimming endlessly through the waves as it dodged every obstacle in their way. He wondered if they felt lonely down there just as he does within the palace walls, hoping for a struck of bravery to hit him to just leave and see the world for a moment, even just for a second, just to go on an adventure without anything bothering him.

He wondered if the sea felt grateful to be holding such beauty in their arms, cradling it, kissing it, and bringing it deeper into their warmth, with some even grazing the sandy fingers of Poseidon. He imagines that the graze occasionally turns into a handshake, welcoming those to a new view, begging them to lie down in the pit of darkness to try and spot a single beam of light – they never do, they’re in too deep.

Charles questioned his breathing ability, the young boy would hold competitions in the pool at home where he timed himself on how long he could hold his breathe as he sits on the bottom, he thinks maybe one day he could be like those aquatic animals that reach the bottom to shake Poseidon’s fingers. Poseidon’s ‘spot the sun’ game would eventually become to easy then, as the sun would be in his grasp, smiling brightly at him as he whispers, “I did it.” And all Poseidon would do is nod as he looks at the boy’s eyes that (of right now) resembles the colour of the sea on postcards that grandparents send to their grandchildren.

The sun child even wondered if the sun felt any different if he was elsewhere, maybe it feels warmer if he was in a place he loves instead in one of the many gardens of his castle or the small amount of times he’s with his father in a different country doing something of work – which his father calls father and son bonding.

Maybe his skin becomes painted in various shades of gold, letting him stand with a cheery smile whilst looking like a lost jewel in a faraway land. Where he watches the clouds shift and change like a person’s mood and observes the sky’s colour platter shattering from the phenomenon of the sun setting.

The Prince of England, Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc of many of the Grandale Islands (a group of various places, islands, and countries that the family have ownership over. One of the most recent ones that the Leclerc’s took ownership of was when Charles was just five years old, after a neighbouring (and independent) country (Zosnurg) became littered with destruction, gore, and weapons as England battled them for land. (Charles’ second home country, despite being born in Monaco, his father decided to move the family to England after the birth of his last son) The air of Zosnurg was filled with numerous of smokes that contributed to the deaths of many on the battlefields. An army of rebels and an army of warriors would once constantly fight each other to the death for the land that both kings desired. It was unclear of what side would win; it formed a tiresome fear for those nearby as they dreaded to think of the war becoming never-ending. The fighters were grimed with pain, exhaustion, and their spirits were broken. The war was soon ended by King Raphaël (the father of the Leclerc’s) killing the King of Zosnurg with his sword.)

Charles recalls growing up with some of the kind souls around the castle, watching with a frown as the lower statuses had to clean the mess up, rebuild the economy that was destroyed by the war with the rich bossing them around. He remembers watching them nearly everyday from his bedroom window, or from the carriage as they rode through the towns like Aramore (a poor town that was mainly affected by the war as it was often targeted with bombs for a few months). Most of England was left undamaged though, only a small percentage of the country was damaged, it was Zosnurg that carried most of the destruction and those of Zosnurg had to rebuild their country like the first citizens of their country once did.

It was the Leclerc’s property now.

He wasn’t allowed to do anything about the mess, nor ask to help, or even ask his family about it. All he got told was it was not his business yet and that he was far too young to worry about such a thing.

So, growing up, trapped in the castle, and venturing out as little as possible, he watched as far as he could see get rebuilt, and become better than it once was. Soon, he was allowed out, it was about a year later, his godfather – his older brother’s best friend – Eric Russo– was given the permission to take him out karting in their city, Eynsworth. He grew to love the sport, later watching Eric, from the TV, travel the world to race.

Along with karting, the prince took up other activities to keep him occupied within the castle walls, even going as far as painting, but was quick to discover that was not his forte.

Charles was ten years old though when he first heard of a person who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. And it was a month after the discovery that he learnt how much his father hated this mysterious figure who’s blacked out silhouette littered the tea-stained wanted posters that was flown to country-to-country, hanging round in various places.

Wanted for £3000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood

That was the name the whispers would call them after the fourth robbery. It was a cool spring evening, and the robbery affected a close family friend, Mr Clive. They took anything that was valuable, and when discovered that there was a robbery, the bells of the townhall began to ring, people of Eynsworth then began to venture out and onto the streets in the early morning, sleeping dust prickling their eyes as they stood in the breeze. They were all dressed in their pyjamas as they watched Mr Clive – the man who was robbed – walk around in nothing but boxers as he stormed right towards the castle with his very young-looking wife begging him to do this at a better time.

No, the only good time was of right now. He demanded for the thief to be found, and the King agreed as he stares at the barely dressed man in the front gardens of his home from Arthur’s (his youngest son) bedroom window.

The following week new wanted posters were being sent out.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

The days after Mr Clive’s robbery, many more got robbed, some even finding arrows outside their houses or even watched how the thief dodged the thrown slippers, wooden spoons, chairs and even vases sent their way.

Many questioned on the presumed age of this criminal, but they never thought on the matter long as they presumed that due to everything happening so quickly they couldn’t quite judge on how old this criminal may be.

However, at first thought they believed the criminal was too small to be of around presumed age, but as mentioned before, they never allow themselves to dwell on the matter long enough.

The week after new wanted posters were sent out along with a new wanted poster for Robin Hood’s partner.

Wanted for £30,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

Wanted for £5,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief and partner of the notorious Robin Hood.

It was discovered that the archer was partnered with someone after Mr Clive got robbed once more. After falling down his stairs, hurrying down to capture the intruders with a broken torch in his hand, he watched the moment he swung his front door open with a throbbing head, as the pair, already at such a great distance, carried sacks of money over their shoulders, laughing with their heads thrown back as they pushed the other around.

On his 13th birthday, the discovery of Robin Hood and Little John being children were uncovered. No one was quite sure who leaked this piece of information, some say that someone accidently let it slip, some even mentioned that perhaps the duo robbed them and then they caught sight of how young they looked, some even suggested that maybe the duo wronged the anonymous person and they wanted to get their revenge.

Charles believes none of the suggestion were the correct reasons.

Robin was 12, nearly 13, (an age that was incredibly shocking and was being slowly processed by the world) and Little John was just 15.

And once again, prices were raised.

“Your dad should hire them to be one of his knights,” Pierre suggested one night in Charles racing themed bedroom, all of his brothers, Pierre and Eric being locked in there whilst a meeting was being held right outside about Robin Hood and Little John after they easily battled and escaped the King’s best men – no injuries were occurred, nothing but bruised egos and dignities.

Lorenzo, Charles’ older brother, scoffs whilst Eric shook his head in disagreement. “Why would someone who sounds like they hate the rich, join them?”

“People change,” the young French boy tries to argue. “Right amount of money and he could be running to Raphaël’s side.”

“The price over their head is a lot already. I don’t think they–”

“He?” Charles arched a brow as he looked over at Pierre, who sat on his bed whilst Charles sat on the windowsill to watch the chaos below him. “What do you mean he? I don’t think it’s a he by how people talk of their movements.”

“It’s a kid our age, Charles, they’ve been doing this for years, they aren’t going to be noisy.”

“Still don’t think it’s a he though. Doesn’t make sense – maybe Little John is, but Robin Hood can’t be.”

“What are you–”

“I think Charles is right…” Arthur looked up from the game device he was playing on, handed by Lorenzo to keep the 11-year-old entertained. “I heard whispers that it is a she.”

“You went out?” Lorenzo’s firm voice came, laced with concern. “You’re not supposed to–”

“No way,” whistled Pierre. “Impossible.”

“Cool.” Charles nodded. “Maybe she can give you all a tip or two on how to fight, shoot an arrow and not be as noisy as a Heffalump.” He teased as he looked at Eric, Lorenzo, and Pierre as he mentioned the skills they’ve been lacking most in.

“Mate do not relate me to those things in the forest,” Pierre groaned. “They’re not cool.”

“How are purple elephants not cool?” Arthur piped in, furrowed brows as he stared down the older boy.

“Are you trying to say you are cool?” Eric smirked as he folded his arms.

Heffalumps are said to be dangerous creatures, but Lorenzo had told Charles about the whispers among the caring citizens (the poor who lived in their lack of riches town; Aramore) that those hunter’s stories are all false, that these creatures were actually rather friendly, and they are cruel to the hunters as they are the ones trying to kill them.

He even told Charles the story of how he even was lucky enough to meet and touch a Heffalump with these three children of Aramore that was around Charles’ age. It was a few years ago, but it was a memory Lorenzo would carry forever as for once he wasn’t treated as a prince, or a knight in training, he was just treated as himself, as Lorenzo.

He felt free.

Charles and Arthur envied him for it, envied how he was allowed to go out and do what he wishes whilst they befriended the paintings on the walls.

Charles looked away from the group and turned to look back out the window only to find a butterfly pressed against his window, his vibrant coloured wings not at show, and Charles begin to hate the insect he was staring at.

Hated how it was allowed to sore the grey skies, hated how it was allowed to taste the sweet nectar of the plants around and he wondered if he would ever be deemed lucky enough to taste something as lovely as that. He wondered if he was beautiful like a butterfly, if someone looked at him like Aphrodite herself, and be able to memorise every part of him with their eyes closed.

Charles doesn’t think he’ll ever be that lucky, so he left himself wondering if a butterfly knew everything about flowers, wondered if they knew which one had the sweetest nectar, and which ones to stay away from, he wondered if they ever felt safe in those cocoons they break out of after the transmission from a caterpillar to a butterfly was complete – he wondered if they felt that change, if they realised they were now a beautiful and elegant insect that everyone admired from afar but were too scared that a simple touch would shatter them.

It was a month after his birthday that two faces were placed onto the wanted posters after they attempt to rob from Eynsworth Castle. Failing to do so due to the amount of protection these places were gaining over the years, his home being the most. A knight caught them, and after a difficult battle that ended with an arrow in the Knight’s thigh, he was able to give the King and Queen a detailed description on their Robin Hood and Little John.

No name was given, and no name was being found out any time soon. But his parents and those of riches were ecstatic with this newfound information.

Wanted for £50,000. Dead or Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Age: 12 approx. Gender: Female

Above the silhouette changed to a drawn picture of the girl and the presumed personal description was ripped out and in came her age and gender. And after the attempted Eynsworth Castle robbery, King Raphaël and Queen Anna agreed that they didn’t not care how this archer was handed in.

Death may even be better as there was no way she would be able to escape.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Age: 15 approx. Gender: Male

And just like Hood’s, his silhouette was changed to a drawn image of him.

Everyone was still in shock about the age, but now their shock grew at the thought that it was a female who was causing them so many problems for so many years. Charles and Arthur were the only ones who weren’t shocked as they collected their packets of chocolate buttons from those around the castle who all disagreed with the idea of Robin Hood being a female.

“It’s not really criminal though, is it?” Pierre asked as he, Eric, Lorenzo, Arthur, and Charles laid on the grass in one of the many gardens of the castle. “It’s more deviant, no?”

“I wouldn’t say it such a bad thing,” Lorenzo muttered, arms under his head as his eyes stayed on the stars above them.

“How bad is it out there? For the poor?” Charles asked curiously, never truly knowing how bad it was for them, only seeing small sights of it when he did go near those areas.

“They have it bad,” Arthur muttered, eyes closed as he too rested his folded arms behind his head. He could feel Lorenzo’s eyes burning into the side of his head at the mention of his little trips outside the castle walls without anyone. “It’s like dad forgets they exist and just shoves them to the side.” He shifts to French casually as his mind thought on the way they live.

“Oh,” he nibbles on his bottom lip as his eyes counted the stars.

He loves the stars, truly does, he wishes he could join them for a moment and just sparkle and dance up there as they guide people home, forming little imagery onto the sky too. He wouldn’t want to stay forever, would find it too boring, but he’ll like to know what being a star was like.

He even wanted to know how to find these constellations, he reads books and searches the web for tips on how to spot them, but still, as night passes he still finds himself struggling to even find the beginning of one.

“When I’m King I wouldn’t push them to the side…we’ll be equals.”

“Cute vision,” Eric utters in French. “But that isn’t as easy as you make it out to be.”

The boys laid in silence as they watched different things. Like for Arthur he was seeing those weird dots you see when your eyes are shut. For Lorenzo, he was still admiring the stars along with Charles. For Eric, he was watching the trees wave in the gentle breeze. And Pierre was sat up, knees brought to his chest as he pulled out strands of grass and twisted them around his fingers to act as a ring.

“She’s quite pretty, no?” Pierre whispered in French, loud enough for them to hear, but they knew the question was more aimed towards his best friend than any of the others.

“Who?” Charles asks, responding back in the same language, oblivious to what Pierre was getting at as he connected the dots his own way to form a future for himself.  

“This ‘Robin Hood’ girl.”

“Does it matter?” Pierre sighed as he looked up from the strand of grass, only to stare at his friend’s side profile as he babbled on in French and avoided a simple question. “I’d prefer if she’s a good person than if she looks nice.”

“But she’s pretty, no?” Pierre arches a brow, corner of his lip pointing up into a smirk as he hears his friend sigh and close his eyes.

“Oui.”

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                             Present Day – February.

 Leather boots walked among the cobblestones, dressed in a cream shirt, dark trousers, and a navy hooded jacket, with the hood over their heads, the two now fourteen-year-olds moved beneath the ever-blue sky with lacy, white-edged clouds that formed a perfect line-up in the blue, as if they were boats safely moored in a celestial harbour, with the singing birds soaring above as they acted as the fishes of the skies.

Across the cobbled streets, critters ran across, dodging the horses trotting down, nodding their heads side-to-side. One of the fourteen-year-olds had to resist the urge to stroke the horses’ head, as they didn’t know what would happen if they were caught outside the castle.

The two made their way towards a concluded alleyway and as they grew closer to the towering brick wall at the end, they decided they would climb over it once they reached that issue. The taller one of the pair, kneeled down first, linking his hands together as it hovered over his propped up knee, the other placed their foot on the other hands, feeling them boost them up for them to be able to grab ahold of the top edge of the wall, their hand brushed against a tea-stained paper hanging on the wall, but before it could move up any further, an arrow whistled past them, skidding the side of the shorter one’s fingers as it hit and wobbled in the poster beside him.

The action made the pair pause, the kneeled down one looked up whilst the other looked over his shoulder to try and find the one who shot the arrow. The taller one let the shorter one down before he takes a watchful step in front of him as they watched the alleyway’s self-crafted shadows in front of them carefully.

Approaching out the shadows was a slightly shorter, and hooded figure, the bow in their hand was still raised whilst the other was over their shoulders, plucking out another arrow from their brown quiver. They stepped into the light more as they nocked their arrow, drawing the string back as they made the pair their target. The archer was dressed in a dark forest green cape with black cargo trousers and ruined boots. Their clothes were already covered in mud, and they watched as the figure instructed with their head for the two to lower their hoods and raise their arms.

“Money, now.” The hooded figure demanded.

“You can shove that arrow right up where–”

“That’s not very princey of you,” they smirk under their hood. “Did the King never tell you how dangerous it was out here?”

“Princey isn’t even a word,” the tallest of the pair folded their arms, muttering.

“Money, now.” They released the arrow; it skimmed past and shot threw the first arrow they released.

One of the two threw a small satchel of coins and the hooded figure just sighed as they placed their bow over their head, nestling it at a safe angle across her back.

“You’re Robin Hood.” The Prince breathlessly says as he watches her pick up the small satchel of coins.

She hums, bowing down dramatically as she grins up at the pair. “It is I,” she then raises from her bowing position and places a hand on her chest as she takes a step closer to the two. “And you two are Prince Charles Leclerc and his…Pierre Gasly?” The figure now stands a few feet away from them now, pushing down her hood for the pair of them to look at her. “Shouldn’t you two be…I don’t know…anywhere but here?”

Pierre mouth fell agape at the sight of her.

“You must know,” she continues, “we don’t like your type very much?”

“And what is our type?” Charles arches a brow, arms mimicking his best friends as he folds them across his chest.

“Rich pricks,” she offers them a fake smile, as she rounds them, ripping the poster off from her arrows as she inspects it, the two boys didn’t dare to make a run for it. They knew the stories already, even if they ran she would still catch up with them.

Her brows raise. “Still just £50,000? Is that all I’m worth to you guys,” the corner of her lips quirk up. “Suppose I should do something soon to make that go higher, ay?” The pair stayed silent as she span on her heel and moved closer to the wall to take down the other poster from the wall.

Their eyes were on her back as she looks down at both posters, they hear an airy laugh leave her lips.

She now turns back to face the two as she presented the two posters to them, as if it was the first time they ever saw them. “At least they can get my nose right,” she comments as she peers over at the other wanted poster. “Unlike Danny’s.”

“You just–”

“Told you Little John’s name?” She looks up, a smirk still playing at her lips. “Thought our little rat told the royals that already?” They shook their heads as she hummed in surprise. “Well, it be rude to not introduce ourselves, no? Considering we’ll be the ones who will take down your type of people.” She scrunches the posters up in her hands before stuffing it into her trousers pocket, she then holds out her hands for the pair to shake. “I’m Y/n – Y/n L/n, and my mate is Daniel Ricciardo.” She awaits for them to shake her hand, but their pair just stays staring at. “Suppose you don’t shake a peasant hand,” she puts her hand down, “proves to show why we don’t respect you.” She spat out before shrugging her shoulders as she too mimicked the way their arms were crossed against their chest. “Do what you wish with our names, no doubt that little mole be telling that King sooner or later.”

“You’ve got quite the reputation.” Pierre couldn’t help but say.

“Reputation?” She tilts her head, smirk still playing at her lips, they thought it was painted on as not once have they ever seen it fall, except the small falter of it when neither of them shook her hand. “I have a reputation?”

“Yeah, the steal from the rich and give to the poor reputation.”

She lets out another airy laugh.

“I’m just doing what the King can’t do.” Y/n half-shrugs as she pulls her hood back on. “We aren’t lucky like you, Princey.” Her eyes shifts to just focus on Charles.

“It’s still not a word,” Pierre comments next to Charles.

“Still don’t care,” she rubbed her dirty hand down her face. “We don’t have people running us a bath and we don’t have someone baking my bread, but at least I know that I earned that bread; and my god do I deserve it.”

“They say you’re a common theft.”

“Can’t be common with that price over my head.” She teased, sniffling her nose slightly as she looked around before looking at Charles again, the one who was mainly speaking to her now.

She noticed how clean the pair looked and how well put together they were. They didn’t look as slim as she did as they were able to get the food they needed. Their hairs were slightly longer than she expected it to truly be, she thought their highly paid hairdressers would be there giving them a nicer cut, but instead they looked like two teens who were just experiencing different styles for their hair.

The thirteen-year-old girl looked at the two fourteen-year-olds curiously, examining every difference they had over her. They held themselves tall, but their eyes held a sense of disorientation in them, it was like they were a lost puppy, not knowing what to do or where to go.

“Do you think I’m a criminal?” She questioned. “It wouldn’t matter if you do. We’re not going be friends,” she rambles. “Just curious to know how you see u–”

“No.” Charles answered over her short rambling, and she stopped and looked over at them. “I don’t think you’re a criminal for trying to keep everyone alive.”

Y/n titled her head to the side.

“You don’t know what it’s like do you?” She asked quietly, and for once in their meeting she wasn’t carrying that smirk. “You really don’t know how bad it is, do you?”

They just shook their heads.

“It’s best you don’t,” she cleared her throat. “Don’t need to save anymore of you guys.”

Pierre raises a brow. “Who have you saved?”

“Eric and Lorenzo,” she purses her lips, “more times than I can count on one hand.”

“My younger brother, Arthur,” Charles begins, “he hasn’t been around here, has he?”

“Why? Scared we’ll do something?” She rolls her eyes. “I haven’t seen him, but I hear he’s with Wyatt and Lando a lot.”

“Who are they exactly?”

“Good kids that you won’t ever go near,” she narrows her eyes at them. “In fact, it be best if the pair of you leave Aramore and don’t come back. Tell those three that too. Stick to your little rich friends and the things you know, alright? And I’ll go home and tell my folks that I hit the jackpot, that I robbed the Prince and his knight in training.” She takes one more step closer to them. “If this was a story, I’ll die in the end. You know, with being wanted and all. They know enough and I’m surprised they haven’t caught me at least once yet.” Y/n shook her head as she walks past the pair. “Go back to your little castle.”

“Huh,” Pierre unfolds his arms. “She really don’t like us.”

Charles shakes his head, “but perhaps we can change her mind.” He states as he too puts his hood back on, Pierre copying before they walk out of the alleyway. Despite her leaving mere seconds before them, she was nowhere in sight when they exited the one-way alleyway.

“Get your Daily News right here!” A voice yelled as he held a stack of newspapers whilst the boy next to him waved one in the air, holding his cap out for change to fall into. “Get your Daily–”

Charles hits Pierre in the arm, nodding his head towards the two, what he presumes, are twelve-year-olds. They swiftly make their way towards them, standing in front of them as Charles places two coins into their cap.

“Bonjour,” Pierre greets with a smile as he takes down his hood, watching as the boys faces drop at the sight of his hood falling, their eyes then switch to Charles, who also pushed down his hood. “We’ll like a paper, s’il te plait.”

The boys looked between one another in confusion before they handed the dark-haired boy a paper.

“Not to be rude but what you doing here?” One of the British boys asked as the other elbowed his side.

“Lando!” He whispered loudly.

“Wyatt – they shouldn’t be here. What if Y/n and Daniel–”

Pierre and Charles looks at one another at the mention of the boys names. These must be the ones that Arthur sneaks out to hang out with.

“Oh,” Pierre smiles, “we’ve met that Robin Hood friend of yours. Robbed us and everything.”

Wyatt looks into his hat with a frown, “clearly not well enough.”

Charles tucks the paper under his left arm.

Lando carefully looks around to see if anyone else has noticed the Prince and his Knight in training with them, he then leans forwards slightly to speak with them quietly. “Aramore doesn’t like your family very much, your highness,” Lando quips.

“But our Robin Hood and Little John have always held the highest of hatred for those in Eynsworth and spits at the names of the Leclerc’s who has wrong us all,” Wyatt continued off from Lando.

“My father is a good man,” Charles tries to convince the boy, perhaps even try and convince himself, but the two Aramore boys just shakes their heads with laughter.

“Suppose she is right after all. All you rich folks are as stupid as it comes.” Charles and Pierre share a look.

“But you met her?” Lando speaks up again. “Like you actually met her?”

They both nod.

“And she didn’t knock either of you out?” He watched the pair freeze. “Oh,” Lando pauses, “I only asked because of how much she hates your – your type. But Y/n isn’t a bad person. Sure, she’s made mistakes – but she’s a good person.”

“Thought you be more careful with sharing other’s names like that.”

Wyatt shrugs at Charles’ pointed look. “Don’t need to when the whole city now knows it,” he nods his head to the newspaper under Charles’ arms. “It’s the headline today – Y/n L/n and Daniel Riccardo are the Robin Hood and Little John. The King doesn’t want this shared with the whole world yet though, perhaps that’s the smartest thing he’s ever asked.”

“So the mole has already told my father?”

Wyatt only shrugs.

“You two should really leave though,” Lando stutters out slightly. “Aramore won’t be safe for either of you and when night comes it will only become even more dangerous.”

“It is a full moon,” Wyatt smiles and now Lando elbows his side.

“Dude!”

“What?!”

“You saying that werewolves be out tonight?” Pierre laughs slightly. “Ah, werewolves don’t exist.”

Lando and Wyatt share a look.

“Just,” Lando starts again, “just return to your castle, your highnesses’.”

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(As long as anyone could remember, it has always been the Leclerc’s throning their land, but it is to be known that they aren’t all as bad as Raphaël and Anna, in fact, they are the only two that anyone could remember being so terrible. His father was a good man – a good King who died far too soon, and then there was Raphaël’s older brother, but no one can remember what happened to him, one moment he was there preparing to be King himself, and the next thing they heard was that he left and wouldn’t be returning and that Raphaël shall be King instead.

Many things crumbled when Raphaël become King, our Robin Hood was about two years old when life become worst, never seeing what life was like before, only knew them from the stories others would tell her, and those stories sketched the idea of revolution into her brain, one could argue that it’s always been in her blood and all she needed was a single lit match to guide her to see it.

So, for as long as she could remember, she always had a desire for revolution, to overthrow Raphaël Leclerc in any way possible and bring back the life that only her ears were ever blessed with hearing. Bring back the world where one shouldn’t be afraid that in a matter of a second they could be stabbed, or questioning if that snap of a twig was a person following them instead of an innocent deer, and even bring back the world where everyone isn’t just waiting for another war too happen.

She wants to bring back the world where others were seen more as equals, the world where the poor was being helped and weren’t clinging onto their last seconds of life, and the world where the rich weren’t so greedy and treacherous and kissed the ground for a man who usurped the crown.

Robin Hood was the people’s only hope. She robbed from the rich to feed the poor. She was beloved by all people from England, and by the age of twelve, she was known and loved in other countries. Robin and her best mate Little John – also known as Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo – are found hidden in Aramore, one of England’s poorest town’s.

King Raphaël has heard rumours on this information, but it is yet to be confirmed to the rich if it she truly awaits in Aramore.

You know, there’s been a heap of legends and tall tales about our Robin Hood. All different too. Well, fellow readers, here is the true version).

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“This is the story of how I died.”                                                                                                  

“Y/n!” Daniel shoved the younger girl’s shoulder who was left chuckling at the frozen states of youngster’s with their mouths wide open.

“How can you be dead?” One questioned, tilting their head. “You look alive.”

“Because she is.” Daniel gave a short glare to his best friend before turning his head to beam at the kids. “She just messing with you,” he elbows her side. “Jokester this one.” The children looked between the two. “Now, Y/n, tell the real story.”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “this one is more boring though – Once Upon A Time…”

(Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo weren’t originally from Eynsworth, instead they were from a town called Neverland – which was a small island in the region of the Harsano Islands. They were both raised in an orphanage that was ran by some very cruel people. They all evacuated though when their country got overtaken by Raphaël.

They all escaped to England; Y/n was just nine).

The Orphanage – The Lost Boys – were a worldly known orphanage that many thought to be a good, well-run place, instead, for the children that lived there, it was like a game of survival. Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo were always trouble, even back then, both being secretly taught how to survive by a woman who was only meant to teach them English, but instead she was their mentor for fighting, how to use a bow and arrow, and basic survival skills.

It happened away from eyes that would hurt them terribly if they ever discovered the truth, whether that was children that will tell on them or if it was Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil themselves catching sight of this little self-made club.

Growing up, they were taught on how to be everything wrong – in the eyes of the owners it was everything right – with being raised with the wrong thoughts of the poor and how they should be mistreated, that creatures out there should be killed, and even the fact that if one isn’t hurt then they will never learn.

Children shouldn’t have parents, and they shouldn’t grow up either.

They shouldn’t know how to survive in the real world, and they shouldn’t be able to protect themselves.

Y/n was told she was wrong in the way she thought, that children have a mind of their own, and that they will all grow up and leave Pan and Cruella here in this huge building alone – Pan didn’t like what the six-year-old was telling him, not one bit, so in front of everyone’s eyes, he bashed a rock into the side of her head until she fell unconscious, only waking up at the feeling of a cold flannel being pressed against her head by Daniel and their mentor – Tania – checking her over.

She still carries that scar on the top of her head.

She was six years old when Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil saw her as their main target to hurt, Y/n didn’t mind though, as long as the other children were left unharmed, then she’ll carry as many scars that will tell her tale.

“My mother wasn’t a good person,” Y/n mentioned one day in her training, when she was just seven years old, Tania raised her brows in surprise that Y/n knew this, she wasn’t meant to know but here she was talking about it, “She – it was mentioned in my file.”

“You read your file?”

She nods. “I just wanted to know more about…I just wanted to find out–”

“No,” Tania shook her head. “You shouldn’t have looked at that.”

“I didn’t think it be bad,” Y/n frowned, looking down at her feet as she kicked a piece of gravel from the ground away. “Why did you agree to do this after what my – what she did? I could be the same, you know.”

“You aren’t,” Tania was quick to mention. “You aren’t the same and you never will be. Your mother was a bad person, I know this to be true. I know this as she was the one who slit my daughter’s throat. But if I’d seen even an ember of that cruelty in you I never would’ve agreed to mentor you,” Tania took a step forwards, rubbing a gentle thumb across Y/n’s cheek before holding her hands in a motherly hold. “She may have given birth to you, but she doesn’t get to decide who you become – you do that.”

“Was my father a better person at least.”

“He was one of the greatest men I have ever met, he just, he fell for the wrong person and death caught up with him sooner than we would have liked.” Tania squeezes the youngster’s hand. “He would have loved you and would been so proud of you.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n shrugs, “maybe not because if he was still alive then I wouldn’t be here, I would be living with him and I would be a different person.”

Y/n was still seven years old when there was news that Cruella’s new fur-coat belonged to the creature that she yells to all on how she believes they’re all bad, and all should be skinned alive, she never was quiet on her hatred for werewolves. It was still the same day when a friend of hers questioned her opinion on werewolves – Wyatt Poitier.

“Are they bad?” The girl shoots them a confused look. “Werewolves? Are they bad? Cruella says they are – says they deserve nothing but painful death. She always said that when she finds one, she will kill it, and wear it as a fur coat.”

Y/n doesn’t think they are. Not all at least. She knows a few, all nice and all just scared humans who have extreme attributes that the average human do not carry, and perhaps their even more terrified of themselves than others are of them, because each time the moon is full they must go through the painful transition that causes others to call them a monster.

However, she was never clueless on the horrifying one that lived over in England.

Her werewolves’ friends never asked to be who they are though, they never asked to be something people find only in their nightmares. Where once someone discovers that secret, most will treat them differently, will want their death to full upon them, and some will begin to silently judge them before a simple hello is ever spilled again.  

“No,” she shakes her head. “I don’t think they are. They’re just people who also happen to be wolves. Some are good. Some are bad. Just like people.”

“Pan agrees with Cruella.”

“Well,” Y/n sits up, and leans her back against her headboard of her bed. “They would say that when they’re just the same as the bad wolves.”

The two days before they evacuated to England, Y/n and Daniel’s mentor was found dead, the news the next day insisted she died from the fire of the orphanage burning from the children – but Y/n knew it couldn’t be right as she knew no one was left in the building when she lit the match to start the amber glow.

Y/n carried the belief that it was Pan, Cruella, and the King – who was seen in Neverland earlier that week.

Y/n was just nine when she escaped to England, and she was still only nine when she become the Robin Hood who had revolution fogging up her brain.

 “And just at that moment, the ugly little frog looked up with his sad, round eyes, and pleaded, ‘oh, please dear princess, only a kiss from you can break this terrible spell.’” Y/n spoke to the kids as she told them a story she had memorised in her brain due to the amount of times the children of the orphanage read it to one another. “And–”

There was a sharp three knocks that echoed throughout the small, stoned room, all the kids that sat cross-legged on the ground whipped their heads round to look at the door, whilst only Daniel and Y/n had to lift their heads up a little. They all await for the handle of the door to be pulled down, but yet, it never does, not until Daniel calls out a “come in,” did the handle move and the door was pushed open ever so slightly, enough for young Wyatt to nervously poke his head in as he looked at the duo.

“Er,” he looked over his shoulder at something, “you two won’t like this but,” he looks at them again, “there’s a visitor for you,” he mutters before moving away and slamming the door shut.

The pair moved away from the self-crafted beanbags as they moved towards the door, ignoring the pleads from the children as they asked them to come back and finish the story. Daniel was quick to reassure them that they be back after they see who was outside. Slowly, the children moved from the floor and went off to play with some of the toys in the room.

The two slowly moved out of the door, but a hand was quick to land on Daniel’s chest as they tried to push him back into the room before he could even close the door behind him.

“Wyatt what are you-”

“Change of plans, they only want to see Y/n right now.” Wyatt whispers as he pushes Daniel back into the room whilst Wyatt followed closely behind, closing the door as he goes, leaving Y/n outside, hands on her hips as she squinted to try and find this visitor.

“This is ridiculous where is,” her eyes fall on a slightly taller figure standing in front of her, her face scrunches up in disgust. “What are you doing back here?”

The figure removes his hood.

“I’ll keep my hood up if I were you, don’t want anyone to pass by and see who you are.” She utters as she takes a look around to see if anyone was close by whilst he pulls his hood back over his head. “I thought I told you earlier that you should return back to your castle. And where’s that friend of yours? Not out here is he? Better not be causing any trou– ”

Charles rolls his eyes. “He’s with the horses.” His fingers nervously reach to the side of his cloak, running up and down the steam of it as he looked at the girl in front. “I wanted to come back and apologise.” Y/n raised a brow. “Look, I just think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Well, I think we did too.”

“Okay–”

“But I appreciate your apology.”

“Apology?” Charles breathlessly laughs before scrunching his face up. “Who said anything about an apology? I was just saying–”

“Please don’t talk anymore, okay?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she turns to look away from him. “It’s only going to upset me.”

“Well you have already me upset so–”

“Is this about robbing you?” She turns to look at him, hands dropping to her side before raising her right hand to gesture towards him. “Come on, like that’s going to hurt your bank account.”

Charles chose to ignore this as he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, he held it out for Y/n to take.

“So you wouldn’t shake my hand, but you’ll happily hand me things?”

“Your really annoying, has anyone ever told you that?”

She pinches the other side of the envelope, leaving it to dangle down as she held it from a corner. “What is this?”

“Real mature–”

“Hey if you didn’t want to shake my hand, then I don’t even want to touch you.” She eyes the golden colour of it, it almost matching her reward posters. There was no cursive writing addressing to who it was for, but it did have the blue royal stamp sealing it shut. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at it, but she should have guessed it was an envelope from the Leclerc’s due to it being handed to her by one.  

As she ignores the colour of the envelope, she notices, without much surprise, that it was made of high-quality paper with a slightly rough feel to it – it wasn’t like the recycled stuff with bits in it like the people of Aramore use. It was just thick and heavy like letters from hundred of years ago.

Well, it be no shock if they were still using material for letters that they once did many times ago, the rich liked the traditional, they weren’t ones for big changes, so it should come to no shock that their paper felt like a rich metal, or that they weren’t even with the times and recycling their paper.

“I wanted to give you one,” Charles shrugs. “I thought it be a nice thing to do and–”

“This isn’t going to be the leading cause to my death is it?”

His eyes widen, “I hope not.” He responds in French, watching as Y/n’s face scrunches up from not understanding a word he just said. “Oh,” he frowns slightly, “I said I hope not.”

She clicks her tongue at the root of her mouth as she continues to eye the envelope and the boy in front. “Can you go now?” She questions, and before she could even watch if he does leave this time or not, she was already heading back inside to the small room she once was in, coming face-to-face with an annoyed Daniel and a Wyatt wouldn’t stop shifting on his feet.

“What’s that?” Daniel points to the thing that was still pinched in between Y/n’s thumb and forefinger.

“Poison,” she mutters, still eyeing it up in disgust.

“O-Oh, Y/n,” Wyatt stutters, “You must go,” The duo’s brows knitted together at Wyatt’s wording as they watched his eyes lit up at the sighting of what she was pinching. “You must! It be an amazing opportunity for you and, oh, Y/n, you can’t run forever; he’ll find you one day,” Wyatt warned. “Just go and have some fun and do what you do best; steal.”

“Who says I’m running?” Y/n lets out a scoff, which was slightly merged into an airy laugh too, “I’ve been here for the last five years, and if he ever gets the courage to come for me, I’ll still be right here.”

She understood that Wyatt must have figured out that this was from the royals, and by he, he must mean the King, and perhaps Wyatt thought this was a letter personally from the King, and maybe he believed this letter was going to mend everything.

But it wasn’t – that only happens in fairytales.

“But Y/n–”

Her finger slides underneath the lip of the envelope, tearing it open. She watches how the royal blue stamp that had a golden rose engraved onto it and is then surrounded with an aureate circular frame, splits into a near perfect half.

She tugs the folded black card out; she then holds it in one hand whilst the other crushes the envelope into a ball.

With her other hand, her thumb slips up from the bottom of the card, pressing down on the lined spine to open it up. Swiftly falling down like snow on a winter’s morning came two glistening silver and black tickets. The silver glitter littered across it shimmered like those elegant mirror balls found hanging from those darkened ceilings, producing thousands of different circular lights around the room.

She ignores them, but Daniel doesn’t as he bends down to collect them, eyes widening just like his friend’s as they read the same word, however one read it from the tickets, and the other read from the letter itself.

 You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.

References (in order of appearances): reference to chicken little || reference to tangled || reference to swan princess || reference to robin hood || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to 101 dalmatians || reference to the princess and the frog || reference to anastasia ||

Detailed References and Taglist found in reblog Likes/Reblogs/Comments always appreciated along with any ideas one may have as this very long series proceed. 

Act One Masterlist//Character Profiles//Playlist

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten (Part 2)

I smile and shake my head, because I’m sure that I won’t be. Jude shuffles on the bed to readjust himself, and when he settles, his leg is resting against mine. It’s warm, mine feels cold. I notice it and wait for him to move but he doesn’t, so I just let our skin touch, and I get a shiver from my toes to the top of my head.

“When you go to Berlin,” I start. “Will you know anybody else there?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m going on my own, which I’m kind of excited about.”

“Scared though?”

“Yeah, a little bit I suppose. More excited.”

“I think I’d be scared to leave and be away from everybody I know.”

“Yeah, I get that, but I wasn’t really thinking that way when I applied for university there, it was honestly more about the experience I’d have and what I’d learn from doing my degree there.” He shrugs “Plus when I applied I didn’t actually think I’d be going on my own.” 

“No?”

“My girlfriend at the time and I applied together, actually, but she didn’t get in. It was brutal, we got our letters on the same day. Art schools work like that sometimes, they send their offers out earlier than other courses because your Leaving Cert points aren’t important. I got accepted and she didn’t, so it was a bad day.”

“So you decided to go alone anyway?”

“Yeah it felt like the best choice for me, I just didn’t see myself being in Ireland anymore, I don’t want to waste my early twenties in this horrible recession, and I don’t want to graduate into it with no job prospects. I just need to get away from it.”

“and your girlfriend?”

“We broke up. We called it quits before our exams. I didn’t want to put her through the long distance thing, like, honestly I didn’t want to put myself through it, because I knew I couldn't handle that. I really just… I don't want any attachments when I go, like, no responsibilities towards anybody else. Having a relationship while trying to navigate the changes that are ahead of me,” He shakes his head. “It would be too hard.”

“Wow. How long were you together?”

“Almost a year.”

That seems like forever to me. Nobody I know has been in a relationship for that long. “It must have been a hard decision.”

“It was, she’s a great person.”

“Well you can always get back together at some point in the future, you know, like maybe someday when you graduate…” I don’t continue because he’s already shaking his head no. 

“I don’t think so – It’s just over, I can’t really see us picking up where we left off, like, nothing to do with her or the relationship per se. It’s just that I feel like I can’t ever go backwards, once it’s done, it’s done for me. I just don’t really hang on to other people in that way.”

I think about how I do. I’m a clinger and I always have been, so his philosophy on life is totally foreign to me, just like the idea of jetting off to some unknown city all on my own without speaking the language or knowing how a single thing in its society operates. I think that he’s much braver than I am for doing it, but I’m a little sad that he’s going. Maybe in a parallel universe he and I would have attended the same art college and been friends who hung around in Dublin together after our respective classes, sitting outside coffee shops in the city and talking about art and sculpture and our silly assignments, but none of that will happen. In a few weeks he’ll be gone forever and I will likely never get to see him again. 

I look down at our legs and move mine away from his. Perhaps it’s not a good idea for us to be touching after all. 

“You look a little sleepy.” He says to me gently, and I am. I’m more than sleepy. It’s so late now that I must be awake for almost forty hours straight, running purely on the last shreds of adrenaline from being with him, but as soon as he mentions sleep my eyelids feel so heavy, and even the hard, flat wall that my back rests against feels cosy. I’m certain I could doze off in this exact position. I admit it, “I am.”

“Then sleep. I’ll leave.”

“Okay.”

He makes a tiny movement towards me and then hesitates and begins to get up. “Okay Evie, I’ll see you again soon.” 

I reach out my weary arms for a hug goodbye and when he leans in to embrace me my face grazes his neck, and he’s warm and his arms are strong and I wonder what the consequences would be if I let myself fall asleep on him right there and then. Maybe he’d be forced to stay here with me all night.

“I’ll text you when I’m free to hang out again.” He says, letting me go.

“Mm”

I lay down to sleep on the bed. The blankets are so warm from where he was sitting. 

Before my eyes drift closed and I surrender to my exhaustion I glimpse him climbing nimbly out the window and hopping down onto the grass outside, disappearing into the darkness and leaving the gauzy curtains fluttering behind him. It’s like he was never even here. 

Prev // Next

[sanchoi21]

Entangled

Song Mingi x Reader

Warning: Has mentions of smut and sexual themes and this is my first time writing about an idol. I don't mean to be disrespectful so I am keeping the smut part as short as possible, so please understand. Enjoy.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, feeling his abs under his skintight t-shirt. The night air blew past you two, blurring the surroundings as your focus was now completely on your man. Mingi chuckled in his deep voice as he caught your hands roaming all across his skin, his voice was enough to get you wet anyways. First you had met Mingi at the studio, where you worked as his costume designer. One talk always lead to other and soon enough you find yourself in a relationship with him, which he did make public and his fans were ok with it.

Every night after work you both went home together. Being devoid of him for hours on end, always lead you to be clingy for him. Everytime you got clingy, you found yourself entangled with him in his bed as he made up for all the lost time you spent without him. Today too was one of that nights when you craved for him and so did he as now you both were straight heading towards his apartment. He too needed you after being stressed so much about his comeback, now that it was done finally. The night air felt ever so ethereal as you could easily smell his cologne, his scent always intoxicated you as if it was a new kind of drug. Mingi was the only drug on which you could get drunk for hours on end, without actual alcohol being in your veins. He found you in your darkest times, so you being clingy was something he had gotten used to. Mingi haulted, parking his bike at the parking spot in his apartment area. As soon as he got off, you grabbed him by the collar smacking your lips on his soft and plump ones. He responded you by kissing you back hungrily. He was a different person when he was with you, sometimes extremely cute and at other times, someone you could only call “Daddy”. As your kiss got rougher and hungrier, Mingi hurried towards the lift with you in his arms, still with his lips locked onto yours. You didn’t notice entering in the lift as your sole focus was Mingi and his plump lips. Once you reached your floor, Mingi fumbled, struggling finding the keys in his pocket. Once he found them, he opened the door without wasting a single second. Once you both were in, you locked it behind you, earning a chuckle from Mingi. You got closer to him as you swiftly took off his jacket.

Mingi: Someone’s impatient, I see!!

You didn’t reply as, getting his shirt off was the important thing in the world for you. Once you both were out of your clothes, Mingi appreciated your view in front of him. He picked you up and laid you in bed. Without wasting any time you both got engaged in each other’s charms and bodies, as his thrusts got quicker and harsher from his initially smooth rhythm, your eyes rolled back and you almost had a nosebleed staring at his intense eyes and sweaty form. Being with Mingi was something you never even dreamed of, but it was fated and still happened as you were more than happy to have him. Mingi too felt like he was the luckiest man in the world ti have you, as you were the only person who understood him so well. And just like that you spent one more awesome night entangled with him, knowing that there will be more waiting for you in the future. You don’t know how much more longer are you gonna stay entangled in his warmth, under his large arms, but you surely love every second of it, as Mingi glances down at you cutely, wishing you a “Good morning”, in his groggy morning voice which is indeed music to your ears. Just like that you were quite certain that you will be spending all of your life with him, worshipping him and supporting him, as he indeed was your Lord.

[rubykgrant]

(Here is my fantasy-adventure love story I have been working on! I'm just sharing the beginning right now, but I may post more later. I started writing this by accident, not expecting to at all, and somehow managed to make something that was surprisingly descriptive, and I even had fun creating it~ This involves a character getting an injury, nothing too gory, but there is a small wound and mentions of blood without being graphic. Just a heads-up! Fairly long, so be ready for that. I hope anybody who reads enjoys it~)

When I was still very little, and feeling especially unhappy, I left my home without telling my family.

I had no destination in mind, mostly because everybody knew my usual hiding places, and I didn’t want to be found. Not right away. I wanted to be alone for a while. Really alone, not just surrounded by people who were ignoring me. By myself somewhere quiet, able to think my own thoughts, enjoy my own company, and not cringe each time I heard somebody shout. All the shouting was giving me a headache that didn’t really end, it would just lessen then intensify, throughout the day.

I wanted to hide, but not stuck in some dark and cramped little corner, and that meant leaving home and going somewhere else.

I also wanted to make my family come look for me, to actually worry about me. That was selfish, I know, but I was young and upset. I was also filled up with another feeling, one I couldn’t find the words to describe at that age. I was somehow bored and hopeless, tired from all the constant fighting. Everybody in my family had their own problems, but took out their frustrations on each other, then sulked without finding a resolution. Nobody was trying to actually talk or fix anything.

Being the youngest, my problems didn’t seem as important to my parents and older siblings. I was pushed aside, sometimes literally, and had no way to properly voice what was wrong. It was like something in my heart or in my head felt broken. This was depression, I know that word now. Yes, even young children can be depressed. That feeling doesn’t care how old you are, it happens when it happens. I don’t think my family would have believed me if I tried to explain it to them back then, and even without knowing that word, I knew that I had asked for help before, asked for a little more kindness, and it was refused. I had also asked why my parents and my siblings were fighting so much, a true explanation for what seemed to be causing all this anger and anxiety, but I was not important enough to be answered.

To be clear, my family didn’t hate me. That’s the worst part, I know they loved me, and I loved them, but the love didn’t do anything to stop all the hurt. It would have been easier if they just hated me, but even then, I probably would still love them when I was little. You can’t help that, when you’re young.

Because of the painful feelings and the love that didn’t help, I reached a breaking point. When you are as young as me at that time, every decision feels like a very important life choice. Something that will change you forever. Obviously, as we grow older, we usually get some perspective. The decision I made to leave home that day was just the immature action of a child who wanted some breathing room, and later some attention. It still wound up changing me forever. I suppose that proves life is unpredictable.

While I was still oblivious to the things that were out there, waiting to happen, I thought my only options were throwing a loud tantrum or leaving.

So I left, and went farther away than I ever had before. I decided to try and go in a mostly straight line, so I could find my way back if nobody came looking before dark. I thought myself very smart for this.

I left behind all the familiar sights near my home, and at first, it was fun to feel like I was exploring a new area. I was on an adventure, which distracted me from my unhappiness. I intentionally broke several rules about wandering into places that were off-limits. I found a hill, one that rose up and turned into high cliffs. Normally, I wasn’t allowed to even think about going up that high. So naturally, I did. I should have stopped when I could no longer even recognize the shapes of rocks and mountains around me, but I was excited, and determined, and enjoying this sense of rebellious freedom.

I still could have gotten home alright, eventually. Then I got hurt.

I felt something sharp snag my arm as I moved around a cluster of rocks. For a short moment, I thought perhaps a small creature had stung or bit me, but that wasn’t it. There was something sharp and metal hidden in all the plant growth here, and it had caught my arm, above the elbow. It wasn’t very painful at first, but as I turned to see what happened, the sharp little metal thing twisted, dug in deeper, and suddenly my arm was on fire with pain.

I panicked, tried to jerk away, and that made it worse. The metal thing was, in fact, a barbed hook. Longer than the first finger of my hand, curved in a way that intentionally made it perfect for not letting go of anything it snagged. It also had a tangle of more metal connected to it, but these bits were thin and interlocked, like a chain that acted as a wire. This all snagged me as well, pinching and cutting me everywhere.

I didn’t know what this was. I had never seen a trap or a snare like this before. I just knew that it hurt, horribly. I also knew that it was making me bleed, and that turned the panic into terror. My stomach felt like a tight, cold knot. I finally figured out that I should stop struggling, or it would just get worse. I wasn’t able to rest in any position that was comfortable, no matter what I tried there would always be some part of me that pulled against the metal. After crying and then catching my breath, a new fear hit me.

A predator could smell my blood. I was so far from all my safe places, who knows what might be lurking out here. It started to get dark, and I did the only thing I could think of.

I started crying out for help. I screamed so loud it made my throat ache. Even if my family couldn’t hear me, there had to be somebody, somewhere. I hoped.

As it got darker, I panicked again, now knowing that I was too far from where anybody lived. I also realized that nobody lived here because it was unsafe, and it was unsafe because of things like the hook in my arm. Suddenly I was very aware of how small I was, and what a vast world I was in. I felt surrounded by emptiness… but it was a deceitful emptiness, because dangerous things were hiding everywhere. So much was unseen and unknown.

It’s a pretty humiliating feeling when life just seems to prove every thought you ever had wrong. I thought I could take care of myself for a few hours alone, I thought I could leave my home and easily find my way back, and I thought it would serve my family right to finally be concerned about me. Life had literally added insult to injury. The hook in my arm hurt, and even though nobody else was there, I was mildly embarrassed underneath all the fear. Insult to injury.

In my childish imagination, I pictured my family coming along, seeing me like this, and telling me it was my own fault, this was what I deserved for going off on my own, exploring unsafe places. I deserved to be hurt and trapped, shame on me.

In truth, they would be mad for making them worry, but they would have helped me, taken me home, and tended to me. Kindness didn’t come easy to my family lately, but the love was there. They weren’t coming, though. I was too far away, too high up. They must be worried about me by now, and probably looking in all the wrong places. Why would they even imagine I would ever come here?

Eventually it was completely dark, true night, and I started to think I would be extremely lucky to see tomorrow. I wouldn’t be able to sleep or relax while I was here. A big predator could eat me. Small predators could start picking me apart, and I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I might just keep bleeding until I died. Even if none of that happened, if I wasn’t able to get free, I would starve. My whole body hurt, I was terrified, and hungry.

The depression I couldn’t name seemed like a beautiful dream compared to this.

In the darkness, I reached out, feeling my way to the other end of the wire so I could try and detach it from the rocks and plants. Even if the hook was still stuck, I might be able to go home and bring the mean little thing along, if the wire wasn’t holding me back. It was agony to move, and my fingers were almost numb from pain and cold. When I finally found the other end, I realized the wire was connected to something large and round. Like a boulder, but perfectly smooth, it was made to be this way, and made to connect to the wire with the hook. It was also metal, and much heavier than me. Bigger than me, too. I couldn’t lift it, or get the wire loose, or free myself from the hook.

At some point, early that miserable night, a miracle occurred. I had no other way to think of it at the time. Later, I still consider it a miraculous event, even with all I’ve learned.

Somewhere up above me in the darkness, I got the sense that something was moving. Shortly after, it wasn’t entirely dark anymore. There was a strange source of light. At first it was a soft and distant glow, but different than anything I had seen before. It got brighter and bigger, before seeming to burst, shooting in all directions. The burst of light made a sound, and I heard it echo, sharp and powerful. The light was part of something, some shape I could see against the furious shine the light turned into. I heard a deep rumble from that shape, and then a crashing noise. A short distance away, something was moving downward, hitting other mountains, crushing the rocks. I couldn’t see it properly, but from that sound, I knew it was huge. The lights didn’t follow it down here. The thing groaned as it fell into the rocks, almost like a wounded animal, but it didn’t act like anything that had ever been alive. Just a big, heavy thing, like the metal ball, but it was falling apart.

I could feel the force of that thing falling slowly pass over me, aftershocks coming in waves, and with it a smell drifted over. I couldn’t recognize it, but it was unpleasant. It left a bad taste in my mouth. As the huge thing settled in the rubble it made, the glowing lights above changed. They seemed to quiver and flicker. As I looked up in wonder and shock, I saw a new shape moving. This thing was most definitely alive.

I had heard stories about strange things that live somewhere in another world, high above. They can sometimes look similar to us, but are completely different creatures. They are mysterious, and often very dangerous. They can abduct us, steal us away from our homes, never to be seen again.

The stories are mostly told to frighten little children like me into behaving, so we don’t wander far from home, or follow the towering cliffs too high up. I had done all that, just to get away from my family. Now that this was happening around me, I also remembered stories about these creatures making cruel weapons to kill us. Things like metal hooks and wires.

I was so high up on the rocks, the lights were shining down on me. Whatever was up there could easily see me if it cared to look.

After a moment, it did. The creature paused, hovering up there in place, and seemed to dip lower, rising back up, and pausing again. It was watching me. It was curious. I froze.

Another loud noise, another burst of light, another large object falling down, a little farther away. More rocks rumbling in the dark. The creature moved on, maybe deciding I wasn’t worth the trouble.

Then it returned, rushing down toward me. It moved with an intense purpose, as if it suddenly decided it had to hurry. I had no idea what to do, and even if I thought of something, it was impossible to actually do anything. I was still trapped. I was hungry and tired, no chance to escape or defend myself. I could only watch this creature get closer.

Soon, it was right in front of my face, and I was struck with an intense sense of familiarity that I never expected. The creature truly was similar to me, at least from the waist up. A head with a face, eyes, nose, and mouth. Arms with hands, and fingers. Still, very different. Clearly not meant to live in the same world as myself. The creature also seemed to be just as shocked to see me as I was to see it. Eyes wide and uncertain, but also amazed. Surely, this familiar appearance was a trick to lure in victims. Why else would something so alien almost mirror myself?

After a few moments of looking at me with disbelief, it moved away, rising upward again. I barely had time to wonder if it would move on, when it returned, even more urgent than before, and this time reached out to touch my wounded arm. I flinched, but couldn’t really do more. I felt the fingers, warm and gentle. Not directly doing anything yet. I realized, it wanted me to know it was trying to help. The eyes were pleading, no cruelty at all in the expression. In fact, it was worried more about my reaction. It didn’t want me to struggle and fight, making the wound worse. I held my arm up a bit, and braced myself.

It dug out the hook, able to maneuver the barb in a way I wouldn’t have thought of. It hurt, but then the pain eased, and I was so relieved I cried again. Then it helped unwind the wire from my body, doing some kind of trick by bringing the little links close together, moving them so they fell loosely away. This particular creature might not have set this trap, but it knew what it was and how it worked. Once I was free, the creature shot itself upward, pushing off the rock where the metal ball still sat. I thought about trying to find my way home in the dark, but with everything that had happened, the large objects that were now in my way, I wasn’t sure it would be possible. My “go in a straight line” plan wasn’t an option anymore.

I was also curious. You’d think I would have learned my lesson about exploring the unknown, but I had just experienced something that was utterly unusual and fantastic. It was impossible to resist trying to find out more. I didn’t think I would ever have another chance like this. The fact that the creature had just saved my life also intrigued me. It wasn’t an evil monster at all.

I followed it.

I caught up quickly, despite its head-start, and also despite my own injuries. I was built for swimming, after all.

Some of my fins were a little torn, but not in danger of getting shredded as I moved through the water. The wire had scrapped my skin and my scales, but thankfully none had been ripped off. The worst was the cut on my arm from the hook, but I covered it with my other hand, and could swim just fine without moving my arms. I wasn’t as big and strong as my older siblings, but I was a powerful swimmer for my age. Now that nothing had me trapped, I could work my shoulders, arch my back, and roll all that movement down through my tail, building momentum. Up, and up, and up…

We both broke through the surface of the water at the same time, and I heard the creature let out a high-pitched noise. It couldn’t breathe in the ocean, like me. That’s why it had been hesitant to dive down, and in such a rush to get me free. These beings didn’t just live in the surface world because it was their territory, it was the only place they could survive. I could breathe air, I knew that almost as an instinct, but also from experience.

When we weren’t out swimming through the ocean, we lived in caves with air pockets under the water. The ones that became out main homes were all naturally formed, but long ago our ancestors carved them out to make tunnels that helped the water flow through different caverns. Somewhere from the cracks in the ceiling, air from the surface would rush down. Somewhere below, from cracks in the floor, bubble filtered up. There was always air and water in our caves… but some tunnels didn’t wave the flows for water. Occasionally, me and my siblings would pull ourselves up to crawl across the rocks, trying to see who could go the farthest into these tunnels as a dare.

Nobody had ever gone very far, and we never knew if these tunnels lead anywhere. Partially because we would all eventually lose our nerve, but also because our parents would catch us, then scold us. If we wandered too far away from our pools and paths, and got stuck somewhere with no water, we might die. That wasn’t just an over exaggeration to frighten us into behaving. Being too dry never felt good… it was also an instinct, understanding that without access to the water, we would die.

Without air, this creature would die.

I remembered some of the old stories, about how our kind would have to pull these creatures from the world above deep in the water. Down so far that they would never be able to swim back to the surface, even if they got free. In the stories, this was called “drowning”. It was the only way to stop them from pulling us up, where we would meet all forms of terrible torture and evenual death, like being denied water until we became dried husks. At this description, I always imagined left behind shells when certain creatures molted, but shaped like one of us.

This creature had risked it’s life to swim down and save me. Now, instead of pulling me up, I had come willingly. I wondered again if this might be a devious trick somehow.

The creature turned to look at me, the sounds it made grew quieter, more even. Catching its breath. I hadn’t been sure before, because even though the creature was small, size doesn’t always matter. Now I thought for certain, this must be another child. Perhaps my age. I looked back, my face resting closer to the waves. My nose was still below the water, but the creature kept its chin up. With the urgency gone, I could tell it was was amazed to see that I had followed.

I watched as the creature moved their arms around to stay in place, and also… I wasn’t sure what to call it. The creature didn’t have a tail, like me. Instead, two limbs below the waist, and these limbs bent almost like the arms. It had another set of hands on the ends, but they were longer, and the fingers were stubby. This was how it moved through the water, using these two limbs. I wished somebody else was here, to see the creature. Somebody who would be better at understanding how it looked, how it worked.

The creature turned, looking around, and then swam toward the top of a cluster of mountains. Above the water, I could finally see what they turned into. It was a little like some areas of seafloor where I played, with small hills, and plants growing around. These plants were much different than what I was used to. It all looked more sturdy, somehow. Nothing flowed continuously up here. The air moved, though. Not quite like the water, but I was surprised to feel it moving at all. The air pockets in my home never felt like this. Those were contained. Up here, it was like the whole world was breathing.

As the creature swam toward a hill that rose out of the sea, I continued to follow, and we both wound up sitting in the sand, side by side. Waves rolled up around us, then went away, then came back. I had never seen water do this in my life. I had always been within it, feeling it around me completely. Even in our caves with the air pockets. The times I’d been able to see a clear view of the waves above me, at a distance, it had been in open water. Nothing for them to crash into or wash over.

It had a rhythm, a pattern, but occasionally it shifted and changed, the water pulling away for a longer stretch of time, and a rather big wave following, then finding the rhythm again. Bubbles turned into foam at the edges of it. Seeing the way the ocean, my whole entire world, moved up here was fascinating.

Out across the water, I saw the flickering lights. They were dying out now, whatever they were. I could see clouds rising from each one. The smell I noticed below the water was up here as well, and even worse. We had sources of heat in my world, and this smell was like when something touched that heat for too long. Burning.

I looked at the creature again, and found they had been looking at me as well. We looked at each other for a long time. Still getting used to the fact that we both existed, and also resting. We were very tired.

They were better at sitting up out of the water than I was, but that made sense. I noticed the creature had a scratch on one side of their head, above the left eye. They were hurt, too. The creature was almost entirely covered in some kind of clothing. We have clothes too, usually just worn for special events, or simply because we like them. Having clothes all the time gets heavy and slows us down when we swim. It must not be a problem for creatures up here, except right now, because those clothes were wet.

As we sat there and looked at each other, the moon began to rise in the sky. I knew the moon, even from a distance deep below the water. It was also connected to some instinct. The moon was part of the water, part of me, part of everything that lived in the sea. Tonight, the moon was round, bright, and pale. As if it wanted us to get to know each other better, the moonlight shined down on us.    

Now I could see more details and differences between me and the creature. They had a slightly slender face, while mine was a little more round, but my chin came to a tiny point, and theirs ended in a small squared jaw. The features they had were defined, but not harsh. Graceful is the word I would have used, if I’d known it. Their hair was very long, made of thick curls. My hair fell around my neck, barely touching my shoulders, just a bit wavy.

This creature might not be at home in the water, but I could tell they had strong muscles in their arms. This strength seemed somehow fragile, though. Maybe that was because I could see another child there beside me, and sensed that no matter how strong a child is, it is terribly easy for us to be broken.

Eventually, the creature reached out a hand, and I touched it again. The fingers were still gentle. Nails shorter than mine, but more little rough areas of callous on the palms. Their face had a reassuring expression. They didn’t want to frighten me, even now, and I greatly appreciated that. They looked at my arm, not bleeding as much anymore. The creature carefully pushed the torn parts of my flesh together, attempting to close the wound. I didn’t know how to explain that wouldn’t work, as soon as they let go it would open again, but then I heard a ripping noise.

With their free hand, the creature was pulling off a shred of clothing. They already seemed to be torn and tattered in a few places. Once they had a section they considered to be the right size, the creature wrapped the fabric around my arm, tying it in a way that kept the wound closed, but still loose enough that it wasn’t uncomfortable. My other scratches weren’t as severe, thankfully. The creature still wanted to check me over, just in case. I have to admit, I was no longer worried about this creature trying to trick me in some way.

As they fussed over me, I was suddenly filled with a funny feeling of delight. I had been saved by a being from another world! They had gone to great trouble to help me, and were still concerned with my safety. Just as I didn’t have the words to describe depression, I didn’t have the words for how I felt right there. Many years later, I would learn the word “enchanting”. I had gone from feeling neglected, to desperate and forlorn, to incredibly lucky all within a single day.

What made me so special, to find myself in this moment? Still no answer for that, but maybe that’s alright. You never know when something special will happen. It doesn’t matter how old you are, either. Life does whatever it wants.

I was also falling in love with this creature, just a little bit. Perhaps not seriously, considering I was very young, and we had only just met, after all. Still, it was a very big feeling, and I had never felt anything quite like it before. They had rescued me, and were now caring for me with genuine kindness. How could I not fall in love?

When the creature was satisfied I was alright, they settled down again, sitting closer this time. As I watched them look out across the water, a new expression of utter despair filled their face. It occurred to me that the creature was alone, just like I was. Had they also left their home, and now couldn’t return? I thought about the objects that sunk into the sea. I’ve never been that close to anything like it before, but I’ve seen strange things made of metal and other material come down from the surface before. Some are very old, but others more recent. Stories told the creatures from this upper world make large structures for themselves that float on water. Some of them have loud, dangerous blades that slice through anything that touches them. That must have been what sunk before.

Now the creature had no way to move through the water without trying to swim, which wasn’t an easy task for them. We were also pretty far away from other cliffs and hills that reached above the ocean, so I doubted their home was nearby. The creature might have also lost their entire family when those objects sunk. Everything went down, deep into the water. They drowned. I was safe, but what about this creature? Who would find them? Who would help them?

I wished I could. I wanted to.

I tried to say that, telling them “I don’t know who you are, or what happened to you, but you saved me. Thank you for that. Do you know where your home is? Please, tell me how to help you,”

The creature’s attention was back on me, curious and confused. They made new noises, and it was clear we had different languages. We couldn’t understand each other with words, but… I thought about how they had communicated wanting to help me with their face and movements. I tried to do that.

I clasped one of their hands with my own, and brought it over to touch my injured arm, then pressed the hand to my chest, while smiling.

You helped me. Thank you.

They smiled back, and seeing the joy in that smile, I fell a little more in love. Yes, foolish and childish, but forgive me. I was foolish and a child.

I moved our hands toward the creature, until it touched their chest. My other hand, with the arm that had been bandaged, reached out to touch the same spot on their arm, above the elbow. They had no injury there, but I hoped I was clear.

I want to help you now.

The creature made a sound, almost like when they burst through the water earlier. Their head bent forward a little, and I saw their shoulders shake. They were crying. I had done the same, many times in my life. I knew how it looked, and how it felt. They leaned forward, just a bit, and the creature let me hold them in an embrace. We were different beings from different worlds, but we were also two children that were hurt, and lost, and alone. So, we understood enough to try and comfort each other. They might have just lost their whole family. Even though mine made me sad and angry, I would not want to lose any of them.

Thinking of my family made me wish I could communicate how I felt with them like this. I wished we could all comfort each other, find a way to understand each other. Two different creatures who had only known each other for an hour and didn’t speak the same language were figuring it out. Maybe there was hope with my family.

Soon, the creature took a deep breath, calming down. They briefly squeezed their arms around me, just a bit tighter, before moving away. It was a physical sign of gratitude. Now they looked like they were trying to think of what to do next.

The creature could see the area better thanks to the moon, and they motioned to me that they needed to find a safe place to rest. I watched in awe as they rose upward, using the two lower limbs to move. Now it was plain to see why the ends of those limbs were shaped differently than the hands. It was for balance, and the creature was much better at using the limbs out of the water. It moved along the sandy hill, and I followed from the shallows of the waves. Things had also washed up in the sand, objects that must have come from the same structure as… I felt bad, thinking of the one who saved me as a “creature”. We didn’t know each other well yet, but I decided to call this individual my friend. At least, to myself. We could try to find shared words to call ourselves later.

[tkblythofficial]

How does Rachel feel about Tom currently?

10 of cups reversed, queen of cups, queen of swords reversed

OH

so the 10 of cups reversed came up in her individual energy check so there’s definitely a link here, between her connection with Tom and her current energy. I assumed it was about Josh because he’s her boyfriend, but I wonder if she’s more focused on the connection she (doesn’t) have with Tom. She’s feeling dissatisfied with the current state of their connection (who would have thought 😭). She’s feeling a bit disconnected from him? I wonder if he’s pulling away to focus on Britt ? There’s definitely distance here. This card actually fits them a lot because it’s about chaotic romantic life. For example, friends or relatives meddling with your connection with someone, and that’s exactly what’s going on since they’re both involved with other people who would very much like for them to stay away from each other. I feel like Rachel is going through a tough time right now and she needs Tom by her side, because she remembers how he was there for her in the past, and misses that. She feels frustrated because she likes him very much. Based on how things currently are, it’s hard for her to imagine a future with him, and it’s making her depressed I tell you. This relationship means so much to her and he’s so important to her, but she does not see a path forward right now. They definitely have some communication issues but understandably so.

Queen of cups, upright, oh this girl LOVES him. She thinks about him often, she misses him, she cares about him, she still has deep feelings for him. Sometimes she gets a bit lost in her feelings and it hurts her. It’s almost like Tom was a healing presence in her life, he was a great listener and supporter, she feels warm in his presence. She would do anything for him.

Queen of swords reversed, girllll. Okay. My girl is holding a big ass grudge. She feels very bitter about something. Is it that kiss tarot 2.0 talked about or something more recent? I can’t tell. Whatever she’s feeling, this card indicates lack of clear communication, she’s struggling to express her feelings openly, there are unresolved conflicts and misunderstandings. Either something he recently did or didn’t do pissed her off, or it’s something from the past, or maybe just the general situation. Like his relationship and her relationship. A chaos to put it simply.

R and T are messy and chaotic lol

Someone needs to lock them in a room so they can speak and work it out.

R is very intense so I’m wondering if it’s the physical distance that’s driving her crazy? She saw T pretty much all the time for like 3 months straight and now she doesn’t physically see him at all. Someone like her wants to touch and communicate in person.

J and BB definitely don’t want zeglyth near each other. It’s very obvious with J during the interviews, he couldn’t wait for the press tour to end.

Holding a grudge? Oh boy, R needs to talk to him about it then. Tarot 2.0 said mention R having a hard time letting stuff go and being emotional immature about it.

[thecleverqueer]

Why is Barrissoka not cannon? It should be, and the only reason it isn’t is because SOMEONE SOMEWHERE was/is too cowardice to do it.

I will start by mentioning the fact that it is heavily implied.

We know that the director of the “Weapons Factory” episode, Giancarlo Volpe, pushed it. That episode was shippy. Very shippy. I think the most shippy thing (outside of the flirtatious looks and them holding hands waiting to die in the tank) was Ahsoka handing Barriss her lightsaber. I know, but hear me out… this is kind of a big deal as we know how important the lightsaber is to a Jedi “this weapon is your life.” This only happens one other time during The Clone Wars series, when Anakin hands his lightsaber to Padme and basically tells her that his life is hers.

The “Brain Invaders” episode was equally shippy. In that one, Ahsoka can’t bring herself to kill Barriss despite Barriss begging her to after a Geonosian worm infects her brain which makes her attempt to kill Ahsoka. Ahsoka ends up freezing out the worms, but she’s a Togruta, and she nearly freezes to death on the bridge while holding Barriss in her arms. Kit Fisto takes the padawans to med bay. As soon as Ahsoka comes to, she asks about Barriss. Ahsoka confesses to Anakin that she couldn’t bring herself to kill Barriss because she had formed an attachment to her. Hmm.

We don’t see much of Barriss in the show for a while after that episode, but there is a Forces of Destiny comic where Ahsoka and Barriss spar, and Ahsoka does some dumb Ahsoka move to try and show off. Barriss was not amused, and she made Ahsoka feel embarrassed about her lack of form. Once again, Ahsoka handed her lightsabers over to Barriss so that she can show her proper form. After they part ways, Ahsoka has to mediate (“meditate”) to clear her head. The artists that created the cartoon makes note of Ahsoka and Barriss’s “magnetic attraction.”

Barriss re-emerges in The Wrong Jedi arc. It’s actually this arc’s sequence that made me ask the question “WTF is going on between the two of them(?)”. Truthfully, I’m daft about picking up on gayness in media sometimes. I always assume people are straight until they do something that makes me say, “wait a minute…” and it usually has to be something pretty blatantly obvious. This arc did that to me.

So, we all know what happened in that arc, but this conversation:

Ahsoka: (running up to Barriss from the left hand side) Company?

*Both Barriss and Ahsoka looking angsty*

Barriss: Sure.

Ahsoka: Every time I think about this, I feel conflicted. It’s…hard not to let feelings turn into attachment and pain.

Barriss: Ahsoka, have you ever wondered if it was right to ignore your emotions?

Ahsoka: My master would say, “Our struggle as Jedi is to move past them.”

Barriss: You make it sound so easy.

Ahsoka: *Heh*. No. It isn’t easy. But, it’s possible. Like, when we were stuck inside the battle tank on Geonosis. It was hard not to be afraid. Still, you and I got past it. And, I guess we’ll get past this.

Barriss: You’ve always been capable of seeing things clearly.

Ahsoka: *Ha ha* I guess I fooled you like I have everyone else.

Um, didn’t feel like they were talking about the bombing…it’s almost as if they were talking about something else entirely.

After Ahsoka makes her way to the lower levels of Coruscant post-prison break, she immediately coms Barriss who acts completely alleviated to be hearing from her. They stare a little too long. Barriss looks as if she’s trying to reach through the holo and caress Ahsoka’s face.

Then, there was that attack. Barriss made her way down to the lower levels and kicked both Ventress and Ahsoka’s ass. Based on the ferocity of her attack (a ferocity she didn’t show in her duel with Anakin), it was jealous rage. I’m not sure what triggered it, I have a theory, but it jives because during Barriss’s duel with Anakin, Barriss mentions that “trust is overrated” after Anakin points out that Ahsoka had trusted her.

Finally, there was the trial. When it was revealed that Barriss was the mastermind behind the attack, Ahsoka practically has to scrape her jaw off the floor. She then can’t bring herself to feel any joy behind the fact that she’d been exonerated by the revelation. It’s like her heart was shattered. I know she was aware of the council’s politics/ blatant stupidity, and I know that played a role in her leaving the order, but I think Barriss betraying her was the straw that broke the camel’s back. As Ahsoka put it to Anakin, “I can’t stay here any longer. Not now.”

It was abundantly clear that Barriss was still living in Ahsoka’s head rent-free in the seventh season. The Walkabout arc, which most of us refer to as the Rebound, had many moments which would suggest this. For instance, when Rafa tells Ahsoka what happened to their parents during Zero’s prison break, you can tell that Ahsoka knows exactly what she’s talking about. That “green alien in dark robes”. When Rafa and Trace ask her why she left the order she replies with, “it’s complicated”. Yeah. Her girlfriend was a kind of crazy. And on the bridge after the Siege of Mandalore, Ahsoka tells Rex while clearly trying to digest everything “As a Jedi, we were trained to be keepers of the peace, not soldiers. But all I've been since I was a Padawan is a soldier.” It was originally a Mace Windu line, but it was also a kick back from a conversation that Barriss and Ahsoka had during “Brain Invaders”. So�� do with that what you will.

I would argue that the chemistry between Ahsoka and Barriss was far more convincing than that between Ahsoka and Lux. I would also mention that if Barriss had been a male character, the fact that Barriss and Ahsoka had something romantic going on wouldn’t have been questioned. It’s abundantly clear to me, and anyone else that paid attention.

I say all of this because we deserve more serious representation in Star Wars cannon… ESPECIALLY after retconning Kaeden Larte. And lesbi-honest, Ahsoka is ours. She’s been queer-coded to death, and honestly, any other options at this point would put Disney into baiting territory (which is a fancy form of gaslighting). Barrissoka would be an easy out… if Disney / Lucasfilm / Filoni had balls. I won’t hold my breath.

[beginningobserver]

[RE:CONNECT - blog v.] Link 9- Red alert?! I hate gossiping…!!

[AO3 version]

[CW: Murder mention; body horror mention]

“I don’t like gossip, sorry” Rui was talking to someone on the phone, pretty much upset with that call the next day.

“But you have to listen to me…! Takeru was around when he saw your childhood friends talking about something…”

“I’ve been spending most of my life hearing rumors and gossip about me, please don’t… Don’t tell me anything. I prefer to not know.”

“It’s important… We weren’t gossiping, it’s… It’s about--”

“Daisuke-kun, I know you want to help me, but eavesdropping on Nakajima-san and Koyama-kun is bad…!”

“Sigh…”

“Let me try to talk to him,” Rui heard Takeru’s voice in the background. “He said he doesn’t want to know about it…” “I have to explain to him what actually happened. You’re just bad at explaining things, so it’s okay.” “Dude?! Then why didn’t you call Rui in the first place?!”

“... I’m sorry I have to go now,”

“Wait, Rui--”

And he hung up.

“What’s wrong?” Ukkomon blinked, and floated around Rui’s face, “You seem tense.”

“Takaishi-kun heard something from Nakajima-san and Koyama-kun and told Daisuke-kun, who called me urgently to tell me what it was.”

“And…?”

“I hate gossiping. I hate it because it usually was about me, and that stupid big digimon eye I had for almost nine years…!”

Ukkomon had a sad frown on his face after hearing that. Rui noticed it and gasped silently.

“Ukkomon, I… I’m sorry I didn’t--” his facial expression softened, and he was regretful for what he had just said.

“No, it’s okay. I knew you hated that eye… I should’ve thought better before giving you my eye back in time…”

“... It was my fault too, I kept relying on you for everything. I couldn’t do anything by myself…”

“But you were just a kid, Rui. You can’t blame yourself for not… becoming an adult that early.”

“... I know,” he sighed, depressed.

“Maybe Takeru and Daisuke wanted to help you out, not… To gossip about Ayame and Hiroomi.”

“... I prefer to not know.”

“But it can be… important.”

“I… I don’t want to know,” he sat on the floor, hugging his own legs.

“...” Ukkomon just watched it silently and still with that sad and concerned gaze at his human partner.

"He hung up..." Daisuke sighed deeply.

"I think we should have come straight to the point." Patamon commented with a shrug.

“This is because Daisuke sometimes doesn't like to give bad news” and V-mon shook his head in disapproval.

"H-hey! I can't just tell Rui that Takeru caught his friends doubting what he's been saying!"

"But what did he tell them?" Takeru asked, "To make them doubt the veracity of the facts?"

“... Sigh,” Daisuke sat on the couch from his living room, “Rui tried to tell them about what happened on his 20th birthday, and then he lied about how he got the digimon eye.”

“Why would he lie about that…?”

“Takeru, would you be honest with me if I wasn’t a Chosen Child like you and just an ordinary friend and then tell me that the reason you got your eye injured was because you tried to destroy the digivice after knowing that Patamon had been playing house with you for 7 years?”

“Uh… I…”

“That Patamon was the one who killed your family?”

“I did not kill anyone!!” Patamon protested.

“Relax, Patamon. I’m just putting us in Rui’s shoes, not claiming either you or V-mon would… kill a human being by accident...”

“You’re right…” Takeru looked down, “I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone that my digimon was the cause of my parents’ demise.”

“That’s why he lied: to protect Ukkomon,” Daisuke said, with a serious tone.

“But… wouldn’t they understand it was an accident…?” Patamon asked next, “Ukkomon had no intent of killing them…!”

“I assume it’s because Rui thinks he can get in real trouble if he confesses that.” Takeru mused, “Ukkomon is a digimon, but there’s no penalty or judgment for digimon cases yet.”

“Wait, can he get arrested for murder?” Daisuke blinked and gulped, “I was thinking about both of them getting hate for an accident…!”

“It’s not that simple, but he was a child when it happened,” Takeru explained, “It is possible that they would have taken his age into account when it happened and not his current age."

“But… He’s hiding it right now, wouldn’t it give him problems?” V-mon asked quickly.

“Hmm…”

Daisuke and the digimon looked at Takeru, impatient with the other's long pause and silence.

“I did not get a degree in law, sorry” Takeru chuckled nervously.

Daisuke, V-mon and Patamon just fell on the floor: Patamon from flying, Daisuke and V-mon from the couch.

“But we know who is training to be a lawyer, remember?”

“OH RIGHT, WE HAVE TO ASK IORI!” Daisuke got up from the floor.

“But Iori is busy gathering the material to solve the imminent copyright infringement caused by our giant singing clione.”

“I can’t believe Ukkomon has caused a ton of troubles despite being the first partner digimon in the world…” Patamon commented with a sigh.

“If you say that next to Rui he will be sad and upset” V-mon pouted.

“... I can’t turn my back on him.”

Takeru, Patamon and V-mon looked at Daisuke.

"Damn it, I don't care what the others say! I can't let him get arrested for this!" Then he lowered his voice, quite melancholically, "But it's my fault for... suggesting that he try to get in touch with people from his past, ya know..."

“Huh…?”

“Sigh, what should we do…?”

“... Let’s wait and see what happens,” Takeru said with a firm tone, “If Rui-kun gets in legal trouble, we can help him out. We’re his friends now right? He’s not alone anymore.”

“Yeah… Still I do notice he doesn’t seem to like to bother the others” Daisuke frowned worriedly, “Like, when Ken was thinking he had to solve everything alone.”

“He keeps those inside, like Hikari-chan used to be too…” Takeru replied quietly.

“But, I’ll ask Iori-kun about this once he gets some free time,” and the blond guy smiled at Daisuke, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Daisuke is really concerned about Rui and Ukkomon, huh?” Patamon commented with V-mon.

“He’s like that because he doesn’t like to leave anyone behind” V-mon then replied, “Besides… We saw how Rui’s mom was…. And his mom…”

“If you don’t get worried about your friends when they’re in trouble, can you really say it’s a real friendship?” Daisuke pouted.

None of the two friend circles Rui was part of were understanding what was going on with him. The only assumption the 02 group had was that Rui is trying to prevent people hating both Ukkomon and him. And on the other end, with Ayame and Hiroomi, they thought Rui was hiding something from them in the fear of making them hate him and Ukkomon.

Meanwhile Ukkomon was still trying to understand the consequences of his own acts, and how to help to compensate for them. Rui was feeling pretty well before he tried to explain about the giant Ukkomon incident…

“Are you… upset?”

“...?”

… But that completely got messed up by Rui’s whole insecurities and fears.

“Do you want to go out and take a walk?” 

Ukkomon asked, trying to get Rui out of that gloomy mood.

“We could go to the karaoke and sing together! Or… Or go out and drink something! Or eat street food--”

“I appreciate it, but… I don’t think I want to do those things. Besides, my shift hasn't ended yet.”

“Oh…”

“...” he was doing nothing at the moment though, had just finished doing anything Yuna had told him to do, so now he was sitting there in the kitchen looking at the messages on his phone, with a sad face.

Too sad to check the private DMs he got from both Daisuke and Ayame, by the way. So he was just watching the recent discussion of Daisuke’s friends about Miyako’s trip to France and Italy.

They really seem… really good friends. Was he… jealous?

Nah, just… wishing he was a little more active there. Those people welcomed him, and here he was… just thinking he didn’t fit there at all.

“...”

“Rui…?”

He possibly hit the rock bottom again.

“... I wish I wasn’t just giving people more and more problems, I’m definitely just being an inconvenience for them all.”

“...”

“I’m an adult now!” he punched the table, “I’m supposed to take care of myself…! N-not to drag others into more trouble!”

Suddenly, the cafe’s door bells rang. Once again, he was alone while Yuna and Makoto were out buying supplies, so they left him the duty to keep taking care of the shop.

“Rui, we got customers…!” Ukkomon turned to the entrance of the kitchen.

“...!”

He got up immediately and went to check who was. A little peek thru the door window and he saw…

“Y-Yagami-san…?”

He just went there, calmly and unlike the time he had just casually met Ayame.

“Rui-kun…!” Hikari greeted him, “I didn’t know you worked here…”

“Hi… Y-yeah.. I do.”

“You didn’t tell them you worked here?” Ukkomon tilted his head.

“... I didn’t want to bug them,” he shrugged, “they all are busy people, and I’m also busy too so--”

“You’re acting all tough now…?” Tailmon found that suspicious.

“Did we come at a bad hour…?” Hikari asked, sensing something was off.

“N-No… I’m f-fine!!”

“It doesn’t seem like you are, though” the cat digimon raised an eyebrow.

“... It’s just that I… I don’t want to…”

“He doesn’t want to bother anyone anymore.”

Rui blushed and looked directly to Ukkomon.

“But… you’re not bothering anyone,” Hikari said, concerned.

“... Ok, I’m just nervous. I can’t express myself very well about it” he felt defeated, avoiding looking into Hikari’s eyes, “Besides… I keep worrying about only causing trouble for you and your friends… And to Nakajima-san and Koyama-kun.”

“Why do you say that?” Tailmon asked with a worried look, “What happened?”

“... Besides fearing to have people hating Ukkomon and me, and the… lawsuit and maybe getting arrested for the crime I don’t want anyone but you guys know about…”

“Rui thinks he’s just relying too much on others and that he cannot handle things by himself.”

Ukkomon got another embarrassing look from Rui.

“Oh…” the girls said together.

“He thinks he does not belong here…”

“Hmm… he’s feeling what Ken felt a long time ago, huh…” Tailmon mused, Hikari just nodded in silence.

“What…?” Rui frowned, “What do you mean…?”

“When we were kids,” Hikari began, with a calm voice, “Ichijouji-kun was our enemy for a while. But once he started to try fixing his mistakes, he would usually say he didn’t want to bother us, to not ruin our team work.”

“He… he felt like this too…?” Ukkomon said, vaguely.

“Daisuke-kun kept being stubborn and tried to keep both of the parties working together. Until he successfully managed to convince all of us to cooperate and we became closer.”

“Basically,” Tailmon continued, “we became friends with Ken because of Daisuke’s persistence. And since then, we’re not only a group of Chosen Children and Digimon, we’re a group of close friends.”

“...”

“What do you mean with this…?” Rui asked, shyly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get it…”

“We are trying to reach for you,” Tailmon said, “So are your old friends. You’re not alone, and it’s ok to get help from others too.”

“...!!” Ukkomon’s eyes widened, then he looked at Rui.

“You… don’t feel like I’m… inconveniencing you…?”

“We prefer it over abandoning you,” Hikari said, with a serious tone. That didn’t sound harsh though.

“... Thank you,” he smiled back, timidly.

“Rui was a bit troubled because your friend Takeru heard something about Ayame and Hiroomi,” Ukkomon explained, “he had been thinking all of them were gossiping about us.”

“U-Ukkomon, you d-don’t need to--”

“Hmm… Takeru-kun is not the kind to gossip about people” Hikari raised an eyebrow, “If he heard something, it might be important.”

“... What if… If it was something about me? I thought that Nakajima-san and Koyama-kun…”

“There might be a misunderstanding right there,” Tailmon said calmly.

“And I was rude to Daisuke-kun…”

“I’m sure he didn’t take it personally,” Hikari said, “Daisuke-kun knows you’re going through a lot of things at the moment, he might be just worried now.”

“... I have to apologize for that.”

He took his phone from his pocket, and opened the lonely unread DM there. Fearing for the worst, about something he wouldn’t like…

But it was…

Hey, Rui! 

I know you felt upset about that call and thought it was about gossiping or saying something bad about your friends Nakajima and Koyama…

But it wasn’t that. Takeru just heard them chatting about how worried they’re about you.

Won’t give details, since you don’t want to know… 

And I’m sorry for messing things badly before 🙇‍♂️

I think they’re worried because they really like you and are trying so desperately to understand what happened to you since the last time you three were together before ‘that incident’ you told me and the others, y’know?

I feel like you’re scared thinking if you tell them what really happened they might hate you and Ukkomon. But they don’t seem to be the kind to turn their backs on you, ESPECIALLY if they were trying to contact you for years!

Maybe… You should trust them a little more, kiddo…!

“...”

Daisuke’s really got a way to explain what happened, and it was indeed a misunderstanding. He lied to Ayame and Hiroomi, and they probably noticed it. But Daisuke was comprehensive about his actions, again. Those people were trying to help him to make amends and fix mistakes.

But he was too scared about Ukkomon and him getting all the hate for those mishaps.

“Rui?” Ukkomon asked him, and he looked at the digimon.

"... I was trying to avoid getting a backlash or being thrown in jail for murdering my parents that... I was completely blind to reality."

“Being thrown in jail?” Hikari and Tailmon blinked.

“Oh uh…” Ukkomon turned to the girls, “Rui thought telling Ayame and Hiroomi that I accidentally killed his parents would make them mad, and that they would report it to the police and then they would arrest him for murder.”

"I see..." Hikari said, "You think that since you are Ukkomon's partner, you are an accomplice in the murder?"

Rui silently nodded his head, quite embarrassed for that.

“But, you were a kid when it happened” Tailmon said, “You won’t be condemned to jail. All you can get is some penalty for that.”

“P-penalty?!” Ukkomon and Rui gasped.

“Considering that my brother and our digimon seniors are fighting for the digimon’s rights and to protect them from several issues, I’m sure they can help you deal with it too.”

“Will I have to… pay a fine for that, because I can’t--”

“That we’ll have to ask Iori later, I guess” Tailmon tried to calm him down, “Don’t worry.”

“T-this won’t give him another bad fame, will it?” Ukkomon asked immediately, as if he could predict what Rui was thinking.

“I don’t think that community service would make him become infamous,” Hikari replied, still worried about Rui and Ukkomon’s reactions.

“Still I don’t think it’s a good idea to make a public announcement about that…” Rui had a crooked smile, something inside him felt a little… broken.

“Yeah, better not put a target on your backs like that,” Tailmon nodded in agreement.

“I guess you’re feeling less tense now, right Rui?” Ukkomon looked at him.

“Y-Yes… I think” he sighed in relief, “If this means we won’t get people loathing us, I think it’s all fine now.”

“He reminds me of someone…” Tailmon commented with Hikari.

“Oh, you mean…” and she giggled.

“Huh?” the other two looked at them, clueless.

“It’s nothing,” the girls said together with a smile.

[decaydanceredacted]

don’t get me wrong i love the way hornies think of william but as as hugeee TAI TV lover/obsessed autistic(tm) i think non ooc bilvy deserves some love too

like he’s a kinda quiet artist who tries so hard to be so kind and understanding and make his fans happy even if they can be a bit weird sometimes. i think all the people hypersexualizing him made him a bit uncomfy and confused but he was just trying his best to be understanding(see dick mold dildo post.) contrary to popular belief i don’t think he was even that shy,, he was just quiet. i mean fast times makes him sound like a bit of a slut but also tad bit stalkerish in hs and siskys description of meeting him is literally that some girl in pe mentioned how hot he was. he was not really a bullied loser outcast or super duper insecure ever imo. because of see above i also don’t think he was really a like nervy stuttering mess that just loves to get fucked until he couldn’t remember his own name, and i don’t think he was THAT whiny and pathetic- but i still think he was kinda loud which is a fun contrast to how quiet he usually seemed. all that being said i think he was a top but def not a like big hard mean dom, maybe sometimes he soft dommed just adoring his partner and doing all the work to make them feel good while calling them sweet little things(see the wine post i sent in) i think he was bi but had sex with women a good amount of the time. i think he liked having them in his lap while they were wiggling around on his cock and sucking hickeys into their neck and softly playing with their tits and moving a hand down to their clit while whispering ‘taking it so well sweetheart, my good little girl, you feeling good baby?’ i think he kissed all super sweet and gently holding their face with one hand and playing with their hair with the other. i think he was a lover. i think as he got older maybe he liked it when partners called him daddy just in the way that he could take care of them and protect them. i think he could get a bit protective and possessive sometimes. i think he’s still always just had like straight up vanilla missionary sex a good half of the time where they’re not taking themselves too seriously. also just. hands. his fingers are so long and elegant i think he would spend so long just feeling girls up and smoothing over their curves. i need to feel two of his fingers steadily pumping in and out of me while he kisses at my thighs and clit. i need him to write a poem or little song or something afterward about how pretty i am, in general and during sex. like talking about how lovely i am in bed without getting super vulgar. i need him to call me his boy. i think he’s just so artistic and philosophical/emotional about everything he does and that extends to the way he thinks about sex,, like it’s never super aggressive and impersonal to him even when it might be kinda rough/a one night stand. i think he’d be super cuddly and get you water afterwards and maybe give you a massage with his deft pretty fingers slowly and intentionally working over your muscles to relax you until you fell asleep in his arms. i think he likes wearing nice outfits and feeling good about himself. i need this man biblically.

anyway j thought i’d send some love to more realistic william sex/partnership because i love him he’s my favorite he’s my girlfriend and i love him so much. obvi it’s probably not actually realistic cause yanno,, i don’t know him or his sex life b j my idea of it based off how he actually seemed to act. <3

also idk why b i feel like the fact that i’m an autistic transmasc with heavy ass daddy issues(bats eyelashes endearingly) is important context to all this

-spiral anon

.

[hairdestroyer]

TW: Grooming, mentions of NSFW content, mentions of s/h & sV!c!de

The tags are the fandoms he’s most active in so please be cautious, everyone

Okay, I was initially planning on waiting until I had taken screenshots of my own to talk about this, but I then realized I can make a separate post, this is serious and has gone on long enough so it’s time I mentioned it. However, before I do, this is not some big creator, I realize that, but they are a /very/ active user and though I only have screenshots from one victim and soon my own screenshots, there are at least five, possibly six, more that I know of, but I am no longer in contact with most of those people and I don’t want to go asking people to unblock someone like this. If they want to come out about this, that’s their choice, not mine. And, yes, you read that right. Five others.

This post is about @Mauroisthattired on Pinterest or @joshuakidd on here.

Because I know you’ll see this, hi, Josh, don’t even think about sending people my age and younger to beg me to take this down and forgive you again, you did these things, you are aware you did these things, now here are the consequences. And because I know you will, don’t you DARE hang your life over my or my friend’s head for this either, you have done that 100 times already and I do not have the energy to deal with it anymore. I may not have a big platform, but if you have publicly interacted with this person or know someone who has, please listen.

First, Joshua is not almost eighteen, he turned eighteen in March. I never wanted to mention my age on here, but it’s not like I’m posting p0/n so idc anymore, I kind of have to:

In late September, after I had newly turned fourteen, is when Josh reached out to me on my rp account on Pinterest, I hadn’t been active on there in awhile but I thought “what the heck, I need someone to talk to” so I agreed to role play with them. Josh was 17 at the time. Obviously, it was idiotic to have a rp account in the first place, but I’m aware of all the things I’ve done wrong so I won’t be focusing on that, that’s not why you’re reading this. I had admitted to him that I wasn’t online a lot so I sent him my main account, and god do I regret it.

It only took a few weeks for Josh to start overstepped boundaries, I had acknowledged that s/h is deeply upsetting to me so we wouldn’t get it involved in role plays, but he did. Not only that, but he would vent a lot and that would always end with me having to convince him not to harm himself. I will say, he was unaware of my age when this first started happening, but that isn’t that important because he didn’t give a shit. Very quickly it turned into I couldn’t not reply for a certain amount of time or else I would get berated by Josh or he would threaten to hurt himself. He’d always claim it was because I left him on seen even if I hadn’t been there to open the message in question at all. Whenever someone blocked him, he’d send their account to me in a “you know what to do” fashion, I never asked people to unblock him, but sometimes I’d block or unfollow them because I was afraid he’d check and go ballistic if I hadn’t.

At a certain point, he started begging me to add him to a group chat with my friends, always because he “needed more friends,” I never did because it didn’t work, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out. He’d spammed one of my friend’s comment sections asking them to chat with him until they gave in. Once they had he’d vent to them nonstop, send them NSFW art (never his), and once pressured him to send him pictures of his face despite his wishes. This friend is younger than me and was 13 at the time.

After he had ‘befriended’ my close friend, Jay, is when he got brave enough to start sending me NSFW, he would send me it to make fun of or just mid conversation without saying anything else. He never did straight up smut role plays, but he’d convince me to do suggestive ones where the s*x scene was always skipped (but still held the before all the way up until getting fully undressed and the direct after, not even the next morning), because he “refused to do suggestive role plays with anyone under eighteen” I never questioned it. At one point Josh threatened to end our friendship when I was disturbed that he was going to have a character attempt so it scared me out of asking not to do a certain scene, but ofc, he could tell me to stop because something was upsetting him whenever he wanted

Eventually there was the incident, my friend and I were taking a break from Josh and he didn’t respect it so I blocked Josh for the first time, while Jay was too scared to. Josh went mental. He screamed at my friend until I unblocked him to defuse things and had to explain to him what he was doing wrong, at the time the NSFW being weird hadn’t crossed my mind so I didn’t bring it up. He apologized, I tried to get him to understand, understand what he’d done wrong but the apology of “it’ll never happen again” was all I got either way. Around this time is when I had admitted my age, a few weeks or a month prior I had meltdown about how I was too young for this while Josh was venting to me, of course, that meant nothing to him.

[These screenshots do not belong to me, they belong to my best friend, Jay, like I stated. There are more examples, months upon months upon months of examples, but he didn’t want to relive any more than this and I do not blame him for that. He doesn’t go by either of these names anymore] Jay mentioned that he had gotten uneasy during their conversation about MLP, that’s why it was added

These screenshots are from /after/ everything had gone down. Eventually, my friend had enough, especially after being so shaken by the situation, so a few weeks after Josh’s 18th birthday he blocked him. I successfully comforted Josh after that and things went back to the “normal” of before. However, whenever Joshua wanted to vent he would try to manipulate me into letting him by saying things along the lines of “oh, but someone my age shouldn’t be venting to fourteen year olds” and he’d manipulate the situation so instead of him sending me NSFW out of nowhere I’d be asking him to because he “found something.”

I think Jay’s words of “he talked to me like I was a fucking dog” sum everything up. He did more bullshit, but this is long enough and I still need to make a post with my own screenshots.

If you took the time to read this, thank you, I just want people to know how abusive this person is towards everyone, including people his age.

When I finally blocked him for good it was because I realized he shouldn’t have been sending me literal NSFW, it took he about a week after with the Colleen Ballinger situation to realize what he was actually doing so I’ve been planning to make this post for awhile and realized that I’ll never truly be ready so I need to just do it.

Once again, hi, Josh, you took 50 years off my life. Congrats.

I realized early on how abusive things were, but I thought that being someone’s therapist was all I’m good for so I never brought it up. Funny. Expect a lot of vent art in the future along with screenshots of what he’d said to me, I lost an entire school year to this fucker and this post was just me recalling the basic outline of what happened

[izacore]

I'm ashamed to be a louis fan at the moment. I used to post him and his music all over my socials but some of my followers only know him for his public image and I don't want them to associate me with the kind of person that straight louis is. I don't know what happened to h and l after covid that change their perspective about the world so drastically, because they are not the same person. What happened that they now value money more than anything? And don't tell me they don't, because the last two years proved it.

And I'm not saying that you shouldn't continue with your dream and with the desire for more money, but they are already millionaires (billionaires if you use my country's currency) why are they desperate for more?

Please I'm not accusing them of being greedy or something like that I'm just stating facts here. They started to value their careers and the money it brings above more important things like health, family, rest etc.

Their way to interact with fandom has changed too once they decided to use stunts as a way to make us look more stupid to others. Before they were on our side but now it looks like they are on their management or whatever rich white guy side. Both of them. If they started to believe the lies or were convinced that this is worth is another story, the fact is that they changed their mind and we as fandom don't know if there's some big plan or if they are just lost. But what I really know is that it has always been hard being a larrie but since 2021 it's been a hell of an awful experience. I'm starting to question if I spent 11 years of my life supporting them to end up like this. I can't recognize them anymore and it's terrible and truly scary.

I'm sorry this is so long and confusing 😫

Hi nonnie, don’t apologize. I think your ask sums up all the conflicting feelings that a lot of people in the fandom are dealing with right now but are just scared to voice them publicly. I am as confused as you are about every aspect of the post-pandemic era you mentioned. And I think it's completely valid to feel that way and reevaluate if you still want to support those people whose values may not align with yours that much anymore.

In my opinion from what I talked to others, for many it just feels like betrayal in some way? The fans supported them through everything for years and years but everyone has its limits and there's only so much one can take. As much as they don't owe us anything, we also don't have to follow them without any thought. And maybe unpopular opinion, but I really don't think everything they're doing can be excused with their closet. Sometimes bad actions and decisions are being taken, that have no relation to that and it's tiring to see it be used as a wild card to absolve them from any responsibility.

I wasn't really helpful but I guess what I'm saying is that I have no idea what's happening. I'll be here cause this fandom is just interesting to me but I'm glad I am starting to detach emotionally. However I know that it's very easy for them to bring my emotions back cause if anything, larries always have hope for better times. Hang in there nonnie and feel welcome to vent anytime 🤍

[catb-fics]

🤰💖 Van had always been extra affectionate around Christmas. He would make the effort to hang mistletoe everywhere so you couldn’t deny him a proper snog. He’d hang it in doorways, on the fridge, in the car, above the bed, the toilet and more. You name it, there was mistletoe.

“Daddy’s snogged you 64 times today mummy.” Grace would groan. “I want a boyfriend for Christmas”. Van always feared his kids growing up too fast. Every second of their childhood he could hold onto he took advantage of. “No boyfriends till you’re 16. You’re all mine till then” Van would state. Grace would March towards Van keeping eye contact with him. “I want a boyfriend!” she’d exclaim again, making a grumpy face at him while she sat in his lap. He’d give her a forehead kiss and brush her hair with his fingers. He had found that helped her silently calm down whenever she was frustrated. “Why do grownups get to do everything? It’s not fair”.

“Mmm, boyfriends aren’t always good sweetheart. Mummy can tell you all my bad behaviour before we got married. Mummy set me straight after a big argument when she left me in Italy all alone. Realised that night I couldn’t live without mum and needed to change”. “3 months later daddy gave me a ring and asked me to marry him. I love our little family so much. Can’t imagine life without you three” you’d smile at Van then turn to the Grace. “Fell madly in love with daddy when he listened and treated me well. Not all boys will. It’s important to find someone who loves you just as much as we do”. “Daddy’s still naughty sometimes. I don’t want a naughty boyfriend” Grace would state softly. “Maybe I’ll get a well behaved boyfriend” she’d joke as you and Van would give off a mild chuckle for being so persistent.

That night, Van had to go to the studio to finish tracking guitars after the kids had gone to bed. He'd be given a Santa suit to wear for photos and come home late at night still dressed. All throughout the week, Grace had been sneaking a look downstairs late at night attempting to catch anyone, especially Santa leaving presents early. She’d see a man dressed as Santa sitting with you by the fireplace talking about her and Leo’s gifts. “Leo’s new guitar is in the car and Grace’s tickets for Liam Gallagher are in the tin on the tree” Van would mention. “The kids have it the best” you’d smile at Van, pulling him in for a snog underneath the mistletoe Van had attached to his Santa hat. In complete shock, Grace would run back to her and Leo’s shared bedroom saying “wake up Leo! Mummy’s snogging Santa! Mummy’s being naughty!”

Leo would roll out of bed half asleep and hide at the top of the stairs with Grace. “That’s daddy!” Leo would exclaim while rubbing his eyes and take another look. As an older brother, he had always tried to help Grace out. “Those are daddy’s boots and Santa’s a bit thin. There’s a cut on his face where daddy cut himself shaving. Let’s ask mummy tomorrow. I’m tired” Leo would rub his eyes again and yawn while grade would nod. They’d both quietly crawl back into bed, wondering what they just saw. The next morning would throw you off guard.

“Why were you snogging Santa under the mistletoe last night? What about daddy?” Grace would question first thing in the morning. You’d nearly spit out your morning tea unprepared with how to deal with such a question. “Santa has special privileges if it’s an emergency!” Van would shout from the other room before you had a chance to respond. “Only for Christmas emergencies” he’d continue, rushing to your side. “Santa was thin and shaved his beard off” Leo would give Van the biggest “don’t mess with me” look. “Santa looked a lot like daddy”.

“My kids are too smart for their own good!” Van would admit in total defeat. He’d turn to you and say “I should’ve kept the elf costume. We’d get a few more years of getting the kids to believe Santa is real out of them.”

“You two were supposed to be sleeping! Why were you not in bed?” you’d question, still recovering from the initial question. “Trying to catch Santa” Grace would respond with a big smile. “We caught him!”

🤰💖 anon I loved it so much!

“Santa has special privileges if it’s an emergency!” 😂

I never knew I needed to see Van in a Santa outfit but now I do! Can’t wait to hear more of your Christmas thoughts. And would you mind if I pinched a few of your ideas for some dad Van Christmas Headcanons? Xxx

[maygrcnt]

I do agree with your last reblog but the thing is, that isn’t a sentiment that just exists in the fandom, it’s something both Oliver and Ryan have talked about, especially Ryan, albeit with more sincerity than the fandom often does. He shared how important Buck’s coming out to Eddie was for him in the context of: a bisexual man opening up to his heterosexual best friend about his sexuality, and having it make no difference on the love and affection he holds for him. He talked about how that scene was reflective of a very similar, very significant moment in his real life. He’s also talked about the importance of seeing a deep and vulnerable friendship between two men on screen when talking about buddie in past interviews as well. I know actors don’t have full creative control of what happens with their characters, so how Ryan sees buddie and what aspect of their relationship is important to him may not matter in the grand scheme of making buddie happen, but he definitely has some say (as seen by the switch from queer eddie to bi buck) in the story and if he feels the platonic friendship aspect of their relationship is an important enough story to tackle, that may influence what is written and what creative decisions are made by Tim and TPTB. That’s not to say Ryan wouldn’t be on board with canon buddie, because he has said in the past he could be, but right now, the view he holds about this relationship is that it’s a deep and loving platonic bond between two men, with the added layer that one has come out as bisexual and the other one is straight. And to that point, while we do have ample representation of deep and vulnerable friendships between two straight men on screen, how many solid, deep, and vulnerable friendships do we have between two men on screen where one is straight and the other is not? The number isn’t very high. That is representation that is needed. Not to say that the, ‘romantic slow-burn between two male best friends’ isn’t needed or wouldn’t be revolutionary, just offering an alternate perspective. I would also argue that while we have seen many solid male friendships in media, we haven’t seen a friendship between two men like Buck and Eddie’s (even before Buck came out), and some may say, “well that’s because they’re clearly not just friends, there’s more there, purposeful or accidental”, I agree, but at the end of the day, the romantic side of buddie is predominantly subtext that we pick up on through metas and analyses (and sometimes just our eyes) but the general audience does not. Quite a few people that I know that watch the show, but aren’t in any of the online spaces connected to the show, view buddie as really good best friends. I’ve even pointed to certain moments that we in the fandom have pinpointed as more than platonic but they say, “friends can do that too.” Of course, heteronormative ideals play a role in their perception of things but I would say the romantic elements being subtextual at best doesn’t help the situation of their perception. There’s also the mention of their natural chemistry, Oliver and Ryan’s, with each other. Both have either said, or at least heavily implied, that they aren’t directed to act “romantically” in their scenes. What we see is just their natural chemistry at play. So, if that is just how they naturally, as actors, act as two people who are best friends, what’re we supposed to say to that? I hope you didn’t find this to be dismissive or offensive. That wasn’t my intention. I’m with you in terms of how I view buddie, I’m just trying to understand and contextualise them in the other perspective.

respectfully anon, i think the issue with the “we need more male friendship” take is not that platonic male friendships CANT exist in media without them being turned romantic, but instead that there’s absolutely no feasible reason it can’t be simultaneous. fans can want two guys to date while also being appreciative of the friendship they have on screen. i know you don’t mean this towards me personally i promise, but i swear there’s no one more appreciative of buddie bestieism than me. that’s the whole reason the ship EXISTS is because they have such a profound and natural friendship. to quote the big man him self “[the friendship] is really the core of that coupling”. like no one who ships buddie is ever saying that male friendship is unnecessary or that buck and eddie ARENT an example of intimate male friendship, there’s just a little something more that’s fun to explore!

[anthropologyg3]

Interview with D (Cis-Female presenting, Any Pronouns, Queer, Dominican, 22)

*These are direct quotes from interviewees*

Has being queer impacted your life negatively?

yeth bc many people have seen me as not queer enough due to my gravitation towards cis men, but oftentimes they are feminine as a projection of wanting to be with women. however i am fearful of those dynamics because of the manipulation tactics and the common ground of understanding how a person can work when you share the same sex

Is there any symbols or slang that surrounded you before that you previously didn't understand?

probably dyke. I didn't grow to understand the meaning of the word until mid high school, when I thought I was fully lesbian. that is not the case but i often feel like the word can be thrown around without people knowing the connotations behind it. but earlier this year i felt myself identify with the term as i was seeing someone that was gender-fluid and had a uterus, and it was the most masculine i have felt

How does this impact your friend groups?

sometimes i’ve felt left out. once again i usually gravitate towards cis (but queer) men, because their thinking is a lot more simplified to me even when i rack my brain over them. the answer has always been to cancel them out of my life but i can’t bring myself to do so because things get more complicated to me when i’m seeing someone with a uterus, moreso cis women. they oftentimes don’t realize that no matter what i am attracted to anyone

Relationship with your identity?

i try not to think too much about it. a lot of the time i wish to be with people that have uteruses as there will always be an understanding of both sides, but i’ve never felt “queer” enough, esp around people that are strictly gay or lesbian

Were you exposed to any LGBTQIA+ individuals when you were younger?

no, not really

Have you had experience being in the closet? Are you out?

i still feel like i am. i don’t talk to my family about it just my friends, i just think it’s insight into my life they are not owed to have

Life after coming out

i wouldn’t say there was much of a point where i properly came out but people that knew just knew and it never made me feel afraid to talk about what my interests are in that area, but i’ve barely come out to my mom and no one else in my family is aware of my identity because they are conservative/traditional due to our catholic upbringing

How [long] you knew?

i knew by the time i was around 8-9. like most queer people they have their first experiences with this stuff when they are young, and with a neighbor or close friend. for me it was my neighbor

Unpacking own preconceived biases?

 for a long time i felt like i was not allowed to be seen as queer just because i didn’t have more formal experiences until this past year, but i was always aware of my attraction to everyone despite their sexual orientation and/or anatomy

Experience with the community?

i feel like the community can come off as very exclusive. not to bring up gabe/kiki (but it’s important because they mentioned things to me i have experienced myself, but this is more through the lens of cis men). with gabe, he went to a halloween party of which he felt like he was unable to fit in because he wasn’t queer enough or presenting in a way of which he has been sexually active with other men. and with kiki and his ex partner, their friends would always try to water down his queer identity through polyamory and not having seen so many people at the same time, despite knowing he had been sexually active with other queer/trans people. to me polyamory does not equate to how queer you are (as you can be polyamorous and straight) and in terms of presenting queer i don’t think you have to appear a certain way to prove your attraction to the opposite sex. these are collective experiences of which i’ve experienced myself and it was quite interesting to see the way in which they can fall in the laps of people that “visually” present themselves at straight while being queer.

How did people react?

people have reacted to me with doubt when i tell them i’m queer. most people assume i am just based on my general demeanor but there have been so many times, moreso with people in my life that if they don’t see me actively “being queer” they just assume that i’m not

Have you felt that you’ve experienced Bi-erasure?

bi erasure is the reason why i just simply identify with being queer. i’ve gotten a lot of flak for it, and came to realize identity as queer is more of a spectrum rather than just focusing on identity. i also don’t fully understand the term bi as it seems to exclude trans identities, but in my head being bi means you like both cis men and women, and being pan is liking everyone, so i feel as if the general umbrella term is queer

Have you felt unseen/disenfranchised for being queer?

If you havent have you witnessed a friend who has? A place of privilege in that?

at times yeah, just because perception has always been heavily tied to the way people identify you. i unfortunately have a friends of which said they consider people that are bi as just straight without realizing that it’s not meant to be a consistent thing. To like both sexes doesn’t mean you have to have to show that in terms of who you’re sleeping with or talking to romantically. i feel like it sets up the expectation that to be bi you have to constantly be back and forth in terms of the sexual orientation of the people you see, and it overall just isn’t true to what one may desire at the certain moment.

Anything you feel like adding?

i feel like if people had more open conversations about queerness it would kill the rigid ideas that many seem to have about it. people that try to invalidate queer folk while being in the community themselves are to me not that different from people that are homophobic. because you are trying to label someone and put them in a position of which they have to be decisive over something that can fluctuate. i’ve also seen and felt the ways that organized religion has caused people to push down identity, so at times it feels harder for others and people like me to wrap their heads around it being okay to like whoever you want. this has heavy involvement in people’s journeys to queerness and it is often those who have not had those experiences that find it easy to invalidate others without understanding the religious trauma and guilt that is derived from understanding that they do not fall under cis/het ideologies

[mari-beau]

When the Bough Breaks: Chapter Four

(A Brokenwood Mysteries fanfic)

FANDOM: The Brokenwood Mysteries PAIRING: Simmers (Kristin Sims/Daniel Chalmers) CHARACTERS: Mike Shepherd, Kristin Sims, Daniel Chalmers, Gina Kadinsky, Random OCs RATING: Teen+ (for now; later parts may become higher) WARNINGS: Dead bodies/death (and other such associated with Murder Mysteries) STORY SUMMARY: When a woman is found lying dead outside a treehouse motel, it hits close to home for one of the detectives. Meanwhile, Brokenwood is facing a spree of seemingly random petty crimes committed by random persons. And Kristin and Daniel's personal relationship faces challenges. CHAPTER SUMMARY: (Kristin POV) Kristin tries to get some more information about the deceased woman, but her personal connection may be a distraction she can't avoid.

READ ON AO3

READ CHAPTER ONE

READ CHAPTER TWO

READ CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

Kristin Sims took a deep breath, let it out slowly, tried to employ the technique of going to her happy place, which failed entirely, since she’d learned it from the people she was about to inform their friend was dead, not to mention her happy place was cuddling up with Daniel on the sofa (or in bed) but thinking of him was also currently a source of stress.

So, this was probably going to be a spectacular failure.

Just like that morning. Throwing up on the job. Like some kind of rookie.

But Veronica’s death had taken her by surprise. It still felt surreal, that someone she’d just talked to, what two days ago, texted the previous day, was dead. Gone. She’d never see her again. Hear her voice again. Talk to her, small chat or important shit, nothing. No one would. Ever again. She was just… gone.

Life could certainly take a hard left turn sometimes. A U-turn. Crash entirely. Give a person whiplash.

Kristin felt like she was suffering from emotional whiplash.

But she was good at her job. A professional. She had this.

Kristin pulled the door to the tea shop open and walked into the parlor of the faithfully restored Victorian house, making her way straight to the settees and chairs in the corner where the women’s group usually met. There were only three of them, one whom Kristin had never met. Less attended the Tuesday Lunch meetings, and she was rarely free to show up. Apparently, had almost missed them today.

“Ah, Kristin.” Sally effused. She was the effusing type. Kristin was not. And generally was suspicious of those who were. But, weirdly, it had been what she’d needed at the time, when Veronica had introduced Kristin to the group. And so she let Sally pull her into a hug. Even returned it a little. And the effusive woman knew to keep it brief.

“We were just leaving,” she said, pulling away but keeping her hands on Kristin’s arms as she looked her over with her gentle blue-grey gaze. The retired nurse was a genuinely kind and caring person, even when challenging you to ask yourself the hard questions. “Will we see you at the Friday Evening Meet-Up?”

“Uh, I’m not sure…” Kristin cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m here in a semi-official capacity. Can I steal a few minutes to talk to you all?”

It was likely some, if not all, the other women had to get back to work.

Sally’s expression sobered as she read Kristin’s face, body language and tone. She resumed her seat, as did the other women, giving Kristin curious looks.

“Kristin, I don’t think you’ve met Elaine,” Sally gestured to the unfamiliar brunette. She nodded and smiled at Kristin.

“You’re a member of the group?” She phrased it politely, but her eyes asked the implicit, unspoken question. 

“Yes,” Kristin said. “But I don’t go around announcing it to the general public. My partner doesn’t even know.”

Elaine nodded. Message received. They all shared some pretty private and personal things at their meet-ups. Discretion was just an unspoken agreed upon rule. 

Kristin sat up straighter in the tufted chair.

“I’m not sure if any of you are aware, aside from Sally, that I’m a detective sergeant with Brokenwood CIB.” Elaine’s eyes went big, but Cynthia and Kay nodded. “I have some bad news.”

Sally frowned, something Kristin had only seen twice in the three months since they’d met. 

“Veronica Howell was found dead this morning.” She winced, not just in anticipation of the shocked responses of the women, but because it felt inherently wrong to be talking about the deceased before informing their family. 

But one couldn’t notify the family if they couldn’t identify the next of kin. And these women might know, might help Veronica be returned to her loved ones. 

Well, maybe not that much help. The shock was blatant on their faces. And it could be hours or days before they processed it properly. Kristin hoped it would only be seconds or minutes until they could function, listen to her questions, provide some answers.

“You must be mistaken, Kristin,” Cynthia said. “I saw her just yesterday. She seemed fine.”

“A sudden death can be confusing and difficult to understand,” Kristin said. One thing the women’s group had done was improve her ability to provide comfort and consolation, even if she often didn’t feel comforted by the meet-ups herself. Okay, she did. They helped. Had been helping. But now this happened. “I’ve seen her. I’m certain it’s her.”

“I don’t suppose you can tell us what happened?” Sally asked.

“No. It’s still under investigation.”

“Investigation?!” Elaine’s big eyes widened to cartoon-character levels. When she spoke again, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do you mean like… murder?”

“I mean like, ‘there’s no official cause of death yet.’ But we’re having trouble identifying her next of kin. So I was hoping maybe Veronica mentioned something about her family…?” Blank looks met Kristin’s gaze as she made eye contact with the women each in turn. “Parents? Siblings? A partner?”

They seemed to snap out of the shock somewhat, processing her question, brows furrowing, lips pursing, little shakes of their heads. 

“Did she mention the father of her baby to anyone?” 

Sally was studying Kristin as intently as she was studying the other women, and met her gaze straight on.

“It seemed like Veronica was closest to you, Kristin,” Sally said. “She didn’t talk about any of those things with you?”

Kristin cleared her throat. It was easy to detach herself from the death in ‘detective mode’ but she wouldn’t be able to entirely avoid her hastily smothered shock and grief, not when she had a personal connection to the case she was in the midst of investigating.

“No,” she said. Veronica hadn’t talked about those things with Kristin. And Kristin hadn’t asked. “I know she was doing remote work. That’s why she moved to Brokenwood, to be off the beaten path. Does anyone know anything about her employer?” 

Kristin held back the company name Daniel had come across, just to see if she could get independent verification.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. That she was doing remote work,” Cynthia said, looking to Kay, who nodded.

“She was staying at that treehouse place,” Kay said. “A little bit of a weird choice, if you ask me. But to each their own.”

Kristin nodded, scribbled down the information, even though it was nothing new. Veronica hadn’t seemed the mysterious type, but she was proving to be an enigma now that Kristin was actually trying to figure out who she was. Maybe she hadn’t been a very good friend at all. Veronica had always been there to listen to Kristin’s worries, fears, regrets over the past few months. But had she not provided the same level of confidant to the now-deceased woman?

If her death hadn’t been an accident, could Kristin have done something to prevent it? Would she have known Veronica was in some sort of trouble? If only she were a bit more of an accessible person, could she have saved her friend?

“Are you alright?” Sally asked, her hand settling lightly on Kristin’s arm.

“I’m fine.” She shook off the distracting thoughts she couldn’t afford to have, professionally, or personally. And gave the women her ‘everything is fine’ smile, which Sally could see right through, she could tell, but the retired nurse said nothing.

“Thank you for your help,” Kristin said. Although there hadn’t been anything helpful offered up. She passed out her card, although she knew Sally already had her phone number. And Cynthia and Kay, probably, too. “If any of you think of anything else. Anything at all. Please call me.”

The women got up and went back to their lives, perhaps a little less content than if Kristin hadn’t injected sad news into their day. Sally stopped her before she, too, could resume her work day.

“You should really try to make it to the Friday Evening,” she said. “Especially after what’s happened with Veronica. It would be good for you.”

Kristin just nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.