#feel like i still missed some typos here and there.. hopefully not. this was written at 1 in the morning so. i dunno o.o

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act Two: Chapter Three)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N:

Man, I’ve been feeling like shit lmao

My b12 anaemia has been kicking my ass and I’m not even joking. I went to see Greg Puciato on the 10th and I legit spent the whole first two starting bands throwing up and almost passing out, with zero alcohol consumed. I thought I was gonna die but refused to go home ‘cause no way was I missing Greg loooool I pushed through and it was the best show I’ve ever been to, even if I felt on the verge of death. I also picked up some germs ‘cause now I feel like I’ve got the flu and I haven't even got over whatever I was dealing with before.

I don’t know why my brain has been really struggling with this chapter. I have so much of Act Two mapped out but it's mostly the action and the fun and the angsty bits and the making up and all that. The little in-between parts to get there haven't been written and my brain really wasn't playing ball. Sorry for any typos, It's currently 2 am here and I've literally just finished writing and quickly editing it lol

In the name of our Lord and Saviour, Simon Riley, I beseech you to strike the writer curse from my weary body and allow me to continue feeding my hungry children with Ghostly content.

The last wisps of sleep were still clinging onto Charlotte’s consciousness when she felt her bed dip and the covers rustle and move. Her eyes blinked open slowly, her brain trying to comprehend the shit show that had become her life. For a brief moment, she thought she was back home, dying under the weight of grief and raising a child alone. But then she realised this wasn't her bed, these weren’t her bedroom walls and her husband wasn't dead. She still felt that grief though, it wouldn't shake even if he was breathing and now she had a heaping scoop of betrayal to go along with it. She rolled over to the source of what woke her up to see Beth beside her, giving her a cheeky smile.

“Good morning, mummy,” she murmured tiredly, scooting closer and wrapping herself around Charlotte like a snake. It made all of her tension seep from her body, even if only for a moment. She loved these moments in the morning with her daughter. They made her feel like she was glued back together briefly. 

“Good morning, pickle,” she smiled softly and Beth made a disgruntled noise like she always did at the nickname. They didn't need words as they cuddled together as they both woke up and Charlotte tried to will some backbone to leave the room at some point. 

They’d need breakfast and she hoped Simon wouldn't be in the mess hall. She wasn't sure how Beth was supposed to bond with him when she wanted him nowhere near her. She knew she needed to suck it up for Beth’s sake and Simon was lucky she’d do anything for their daughter. 

“Did you have a good sleep?” Charlotte asked, her fingers stroking through Beth’s unruly curls. The girl shot her a bright smile with a nod.

“I did. I’m excited to go and see daddy at breakfast! Can we go yet?” she asked eagerly and Charlotte tried to stop her stomach from tying itself in knots. 

“Let's get dressed then,” she flashed her best fake smile and Beth giggled, rushing to get out of bed as Lottie sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Can we match, mummy?” Beth asked hopefully and Charlotte nodded.

“You pick what you want us to wear,” she instructed, watching with a fond smile as Beth rummaged around in the bag, pulling some things out and leaving them strewn about the place. 

She picked out two matching hoodies that had Placebo across the chest. Hers was real merch but they didn't make kids stuff so she’d wound up using fabric paint to replicate it on a kids hoodie. She picked out black leggings to match too. They both got dressed in their matching attire, boots to finish off the look and Charlotte really didn't feel like making much of an effort with her hair with how she was feeling so she threw it up into a high pony. Naturally, Beth gave her a look and was only placated once she also had a high ponytail that looked nothing like Charlotte with her blonde curls.

If she thought she felt nauseous on the way to the mess hall, it was nothing compared to how she felt when they strolled in, hand in hand. It felt like everyone’s eyes turned to the two civilians on base and she knew she wasn't imagining how they all murmured to each other. Maybe word travelled fast. 

One pair of eyes in particular felt like they burned her right down to her bones and she glanced over to the table housing the 141, seeing those deep brown hues staring right at her. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her and she looked away quickly, ushering Beth to the food. She grabbed two trays, feeling guilty that Beth was babbling about something but she was struggling to pay attention. She scooped some scrambled eggs onto the plates and some bacon. She was just scooping some beans too when someone approached. 

“Well then, who’s this wee pretty lass?” 

Charlotte turned to see Johnny standing there, a smile that she could only compare to sunshine on a rainy day as he peered down at Beth. she clung to Mr Snuffles tightly, blinking up at the man.

“I’m Beth,” she answered sweetly and Charlotte watched as Johnny crouched to be closer to her height.

“What a beautiful name,” he grinned and Beth beamed at him.

“What's your name?” she asked curiously.

“I’m Johnny but people call me Soap,” he answered and Beth giggled.

“That's a silly name!” 

Johnny snorted with a nod.

“Aye, it is, but it's mine and I love it. We need to get you a call sign, aye?” he asked and Beth toddled closer to him, eyes wide as she nodded.

“Yes please, Mr Soap,” she clapped her hands excitedly and Charlotte didn't miss how she was drawing attention. 

“Alright., let’s think…” Johnny rubbed his chin, making a show of thinking and it made Beth giggle again.

“Do ye have a nickname already? We could use that,” he suggested and Beth pulled a face.

“Mummy calls me pickle sometimes,” she muttered gloomily and Johnny chuckled.

“Nah, we don't want a name like pickle, do we?” he asked her, pulling the same face she had and it made her laugh.

“What kinda things do ye like?” he asked her thoughtfully and Beth’s face lit up.

“I like Halloween and spooky things. Ghosts, skellingtons and pumpkins. I like monsters,” she made fake claws with her hands and growled at him. 

Being the good sport he was, Johnny yelped dramatically, falling on his ass and Charlotte couldn't help the grin on her face as she watched the pair, Beth laughing brightly at him. She was quickly warming up to the man. 

“I have the perfect name for ye, and it kinda goes with yer daddy’s” he announced, looking pleased with himself and Beth was practically bouncing on the spot.

“What is it?” she asked eagerly.

“Spook,” he declared with a flourish and Beth’s eyes were almost sparkling. 

“I love it!” she beamed, dancing about a little, the bunny in her hands getting thrown about in the process.

“Awesome!” Johnny grinned, holding his hand up to her and she slapped him a high-five harder than he expected if his wince was anything to go by. 

He stood back up, a slight groan leaving his lips as he back popped. 

“Now that's settled, let's eat, aye?” he smiled, turning to look at Charlotte as he gave her a warm grin that had her smiling back at him.

“Alright?” he asked her and she nodded, feeling somewhat better by his soothing presence. He seemed happy with her answer, clapping her gently on the back before he swiped Beth’s tray so Charlotte didn't have to carry two. 

Beth was happily chatting to him as the three of them made their way over to the table. Price was at the head of the table to the right, the bench along the back housing a man she didn't know with a cap on his head and a calming smile aimed at her. She smiled back nervously and looked away, her hands tightening over the tray. There was an empty spot beside the man and Johnny plonked into it, not before putting Beth's tray on the other side of the bench which was empty. On the head of the table to the left was Simon, whose eyes were glued to her. Beth’s tray was placed beside him and that left the spot between Beth and Price open for her. 

She noticed two of the men who were there at her outburst the day before weren't here but she was glad. It was bad enough being around just this small group, especially because she’d spilled her heart out in front of them. Worst of all was Simon though and the only respite she got from his burning gaze was when Beth climbed up on the bench, having to sit on her knees to reach her tray as she beamed a blinding grin at him and his eyes now went to his daughter.

“Good morning, daddy,” she smiled up at him. Charlotte wished to tear her eyes away and yet she couldn't, seeing his dark eyes peering out of his mask at Beth, all soft and gooey. It was the same look she had herself when her daughter was being sweet. 

“Mornin’, lovie,” he murmured quietly and Charlotte swallowed thickly. 

“So! Introductions since this spooky bastard won’t be makin’ ‘em,” Johnny started with a smirk and Beth gasped, slapping one hand over her mouth, the other pointing accusingly at the Scot, making him go silent.

“You swore!” she exclaimed and the whole table went quiet as they watched her. Charlotte bit her lip to stifle a laugh as Johnny blinked at her for a moment before he let out a laugh.

“Aye, I did, I’m sorry, lass,” he murmured with a grin and Beth raised a sassy brow at him.

“You owe me a pound now,” she held her hand out expectantly and Charlotte watched the Scot look to the girl's hand before back at her face.

“I owe ye?” he asked slowly and Beth nodded.

“We have a swear jar and every time mummy swears she puts a pound in and then I get to spend it,” she flashed her teeth in a toothy grin and Johnny’s lips quirked upwards as he glanced to Charlotte and then back to Beth.

“Well, I don’t have a quid on me right now, but I’ll owe ye one, aye?” he asked and Beth sighed with a nod.

“So, ye already know the Captain and this creepy fu- fool…” he trailed off after curtly cutting his words so he didn't owe even more money to the mini Riley. He slapped Simon on the shoulder and Lottie watched carefully as his dark eyes slid to Johnny, mild amusement and annoyance shining behind them. But when those eyes slid back to her, she felt like a lightning bolt struck her right in the chest and she looked away quickly, picking at her eggs. 

“This one is Kyle Garrick, also known as Gaz,” Johnny finished as he gestured to the only man on the table she hadn’t met yet.

“Nice to meet you Mr Gaz,” Beth smiled sweetly at him. The man smiled, a soft look on his face.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied politely, his eyes turning to Charlotte then.

“You too, Mrs Riley,” he smiled and her hand tightened around her fork.

“Charlotte’s fine,” she muttered tensely and she could practically feel Simon’s eyes burning into her.

“And all you fuc- idiots know Charlotte and Beth, now also known as Spook,” Johnny gestured to the little girl with a flourish and she grinned, making a spooky noise while she wiggled her fingers.

“You gave her a callsign?” Simon asked and Charlotte couldn't decipher his tone. It was so detached, different to what she was used to with him.

“Course I did. She loves spooky shi- stuff, so it felt right. You like it, aye, Spook?” he asked her and she giggled, nodding her head.

“I love it,” she answered happily before she turned her deep brown eyes to her father.

“Do you like it, daddy?” she asked, her eyes hopeful and wide as she stared at him. He just watched her for a moment and Lottie was starting to think he wouldn't answer her.

“I do. Suits you,” he answered, reaching out slowly and stroking her head softly. Her smile widened as she leaned into his touch and Charlotte felt a burning in her chest. 

“We need a call sign for Charlotte then,” Gaz commented, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Grim,” Simon answered before anyone could suggest a thing. Had he shot her in the chest? It felt like it. So many memories flooded her system, memories of a happier time, of a time where he hadn’t betrayed her trust, hadn’t lied to her, hadn’t hurt her. 

“Aye, that's good. Ghost, Spook and Grim, a proper family,” Johnny snorted gleefully

“What can I say? I like a good theme,” Simon answered dryly but she heard the amusement and it sparked an annoyance in her. 

Five years he’d been gone, five years he’d fucked off, only to live in their old base. Was he here every day eating with his friends and cracking jokes like she wasn't at home raising a child alone and drowning in grief? Did he really care that little that he hadn't even checked in with her once? Didn't have anyone look into where she might be, what she was doing? Would he have even bothered to come back if he knew Beth existed? Would he have come back for her? Did he like it here without her? 

She pushed her tray away from her, a vile feeling creeping into her chest like an infection that was spewing puss. She didn't want to be here.

“Mummy, your breakfast,” Beth murmured, looking up at her carefully.

“I’m not hungry anymore, sweetie,” she replied but her voice felt far away, floating out of reach. 

It felt like her eyes weren't seeing, she couldn't get out of her own head. She suddenly felt warm leather on her cheek and with a start, she realised Simon had reached over Beth to cup her cheek, turning her to look at him with pure worry in his gaze. She jerked her head from his grasp like he’d burned her and his arm dropped back down. She didn't miss the pure anguish in his eyes. She needed to get out of here, she couldn't break down in front of everyone, not in front of Beth.

“How about I give ye that tour we were talkin’ about?” Johnny asked her with a grin but there was something on his face that touched her, soothed her spiralling. He’d never offered her a tour, he was giving her an out and in that moment, she knew Johnny meant his promise from the night before. 

“Sounds good,” she forced a smile and Beth grasped her arm.

“Mummy… could I stay here with daddy?” she asked with a smile and Lottie hated the pain that lanced through her chest. 

It shouldn't hurt her that she wanted to spend time with her dad, she’d only just met him and they had a lot of lost time to make up for. Yet she couldn't help the burning jealousy that hit her out of nowhere. He hadn't been here, it wasn't fair that he got to covet her and she got left in the dust.

“That's fine,” she answered, trying her best to keep herself in check until she left. She stood up quickly, not looking at anyone and not really bothering to think about manners to the other men at the table as she rushed out of the mess hall and outside. 

Johnny was right behind her, hand on her back as he led her to a bench. She crumbled onto it, resting her face in her hands. She didn't want to cry, not again. She was sick of it. She wished she could just pretend it didn't bother her what he did. That she could just be happy he was here, happy he was alive. She couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment though. That the one person who swore he’d never do that to her had done it without care. It hurt so much that she felt she might die.

“It's alright, love,” Johnny murmured sympathetically as he rubbed her back. 

“I just… he’s been here this whole time while I’ve been suffering ,” she lamented, feeling like her sanity was slipping through her fingers. 

“I know… I know, lass. I wish I had the words to make this all better. Ye didn’t deserve to go through all this,” he sighed sadly, his hand still rubbing her back. Silence settled over them for a moment as she fought the deep urge to cry, sitting there staring out at nothing as she wondered how it all came to this.

“Ye wanna blow some shit up?” Johnny asked out of the blue. Her eyes darted to him, wondering if he actually meant what he said and he gave her a roguish grin that told her he did indeed mean it.

“Okay,” she nodded with a sniffle. Johnny’s grin widened, a gleeful laugh leaving his lips as he jumped from the bench, grabbing her hand and yanking her with him. He all but dragged her through the base to get to the demolitions section where training was held. 

Ghost sat stiffly, watching as Charlotte rushed from the mess hall, his best mate in tow like a little puppy at her feet. He couldn’t get that haunted look she had out of his fucking head. She looked so lost, adrift at sea with no anchor to tether her to the world. He’d been that anchor once and now he was the cause of her spiralling. He’d wanted to be her anchor again and his touch had brought her back, but it wasn't the reaction he was hoping for. 

Having her pull away from him like that was more painful than the gunshot wound to his collarbone last year. The fleeting contact he’d had with her filled his dead heart up with so much warmth before it was snuffed out like it was never there to begin with and he cursed himself for wearing his fucking gloves. He just wanted to be okay with her again, wanted her to accept his touch, wanted to fall into her arms and have her make everything okay again. 

It wasn't okay though, it hadn't been for a while and this was his doing. He wasn't sure he’d ever be able to fix it and having Johnny be the one glued to her side was like salt in his wounds. He knew it was a good thing, Johnny would try and get her back on his side like the good best mate he was, yet it still stung. Hurt like a bitch when he saw her embracing Johnny while she refused his touch so viciously. How easy she’d fallen into Johnny’s arms, how desperate for comfort she was. It hurt. It really fucking hurt . 

He was brought out of his depressing musings by a tug on his hoodie and he glanced down, remembering the little girl sat next to him. Her brown eyes were blinking up at him carefully, tilting her head like she was sizing him up. She was so beautiful.

“Daddy?” she asked him, her voice soft and sweet, wrapping him up like a warm blanket.

“Yeah, lovie?” he asked quietly. It was like no one else existed in that moment but her. She nibbled her lower lip as she shifted where she sat for a moment, looking deep in thought. 

“Can we do something?” She gave him a hopeful smile and despite looking so much like him, he saw Lottie in that smile and he wasn't sure if that eased the ache in his heart or made it worse. 

“What do you wanna do?” he asked, unsure what four year olds liked to do and even if that was possible on a military base. Her eyes seemed to light up as she flashed him a bright grin.

“I know!” she shuffled off her seat, moving to stand as she grabbed his hand and tugged on it impatiently. He stood, seeming to tower over her and she refused to let go of his hand as she started pulling him along. He couldn't hear Gaz’s witty remark but he heard Price chuckle at them both as he left. 

He allowed her to lead him until they got outside and she kept pulling him until they moved over to the patch of grass that ran along the gates near the car park. She let go of his hand and he watched curiously as she plonked herself down without a care. She looked up at him expectantly and his lips tugged up slightly as he moved to sit on the grass with her. 

“Daisies are really pretty,” she murmured happily as she started picking them. He’d never really noticed them before but now she’d drawn attention to them, he noticed they were scattered all over the grass. 

He had no idea what to say, couldn't remember how to act around kids, it had been far too long. Part of his brain tried to remember how he’d interacted with Joseph but that was far too painful and he shoved it away quickly. He wanted to bond with her but he really had no clue how, so he just watched her. 

She picked a bunch of daisies, her tongue poking out of her mouth a little in pure concentration as she started fiddling with them. He couldn't really tell what she was doing with them but after a few moments, she grinned triumphantly and put a flower crown on her head.

“What do you think, daddy?” she asked him sweetly and he melted into a puddle looking at her. The sun shone down on her and he wondered for a moment if he was dead and she was in fact an angel. 

“Perfect, love,” he murmured, his throat feeling tight and uncomfortable and he had to clear his throat to ease the sensation. 

Her smile widened even more and his chest felt like it was expanding. She picked a bunch more and he was helpless, could do little else but watch this little part of himself as she busied herself with the flowers. He still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around the fact he was a father now. 

He’d been so ready for it back then, when he’d left for the last time. He’d been so excited to get back to Lottie and start a family. He’d been excited to watch the bump grow, to watch Charlotte glow as she carried their baby, looked forward to the scans and all the milestones. Looked forward to holding a tiny bundle of his own, much like he had when Joseph was born. 

He didn't have any of that though and it was all his own fault. He’d missed out on the most precious moments of Beth’s life because he was a coward. He’d never be able to get those moments back, he couldn't undo what he’d done. Knowing all the things he’d missed made him wish he had died back in Mexico. It would be a relief from feeling what he was currently feeling. 

He flinched with a blink when something touched him, rousing him from his thoughts. Beth was standing in front of him now, a cheeky grin on her face as she put a crown of his own on his head over his balaclava. He felt a rush of warmth flowing through him and he really didn't give a toss who saw him wearing it. She’d made him something and he wished he could keep it forever, wished it wouldn’t wilt away. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he smiled softly even though she couldn't see it. It was like she could sense it or maybe she was perceptive for her age and picked up on the scrunching of his eyes because she beamed at him, such a radiant smile he wanted to burn to a crisp from it. 

“You're welcome,” she smiled, kissing his cheek over his mask before she moved away. 

He was overwhelmed, too many thoughts and feelings running rampant in him and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. An explosion across base felt like it shook the floor and Beth jumped up, a worried look on her face that had a protective streak surge through him. He steadied her with his hands and she settled closer to him, plopping into his lap as if she’d done it a million times before.

“What was that?” she asked with big eyes, looking towards where the noise came from.

“It's just the demo practice. Its where they learn about bombs and things,” he explained, hoping to ease her worries. It seemed to work as she relaxed into him more. 

“So, it's not bad?” she asked him, blinking her pretty eyes at him.

“It's not bad. You don't have to worry, lovie, I won’t let anythin’ bad happen to you,” he meant those words wholeheartedly. He’d burn the entire world down with everyone on it to keep her safe. 

Another explosion happened and this time Beth seemed fine, pressed into his chest as she sat on his knee. While he wasn't worried as the noises were coming from the demo area, he was sure there weren't any classes or training today. It wasn't uncommon for Johnny to go and play around a bit, the only one to get away with it as the demolitions expert and being one of the 141. Was Lottie with him? Was it them making all this racket?

His eyes drifted back to Beth then, happily sitting on him with their matching flower crowns. He wanted to know more about her, all the things he’d already know if he’d have been around. 

“You wanna play a game?” he asked her and she grinned up at him.

“What kinda game?” she asked him excitedly. 

“We ask each other questions to find out more about each other,” he suggested and there was a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes. 

“I already know everything about you. Mummy told me,” she beamed, sounding more than proud of herself. He felt like someone just gutted him, sliced him right open and let his insides splat onto the floor. He pushed it away though and tried to ignore it. Of course Lottie told her everything. 

“How about you tell me stuff about you, then?” he asked her hopefully and she clapped her hands excitedly. 

“My full name is Elizabeth Anne Riley,” she started. No, he hadn't been gutted before, he was now though. The pain that ricocheted through him tore through skin, muscle and bone. He bit down on his lower lip hard behind his mask, drawing blood. The sensation grounded him though as he nodded, trying not to look too upset. 

“That's a lovely name,” he muttered, voice strained and choked. Her smile turned softer then, blinking up at him and she leaned into him more.

“It's a special name. Mummy told me I was named after special people,” she murmured. His chest felt so tight that he felt like he couldn't breathe. Without thinking about it, a hand came to stroke her hair and he found the feeling soothing to him, easing that ravaging ache in his chest. 

“I’m four but I’m five in two weeks,” she held her hand out, wiggling her fingers at him to demonstrate her point and he felt his lips tug up a little at her excitement. 

“My favourite colour is…” she trailed off, tilting her head with that thoughtful look on her face again. “Black. I like black ‘cause it's all spooky,” she flashed him a toothy grin and he melted once again. 

“Mummy’s sketty is my favourite meal but I also love when she does eggy bread on my birthday,” she beamed up at him and he swallowed thickly, still stroking her hair as he nodded.

“They’re my favourites too,” he replied hoarsely and she gave him a cheeky look.

“I know,” she giggled and he made him smile. 

Without warning, she hopped off his lap, his hand suddenly cold now it was no longer stroking her hair but she flopped down next to him, laying down and making her crown fall a little onto the grass.

“Lay down,” little one was bossy and he knew he had no choice so he obeyed. He held onto his flower crown as he shuffled around before laying on his back beside her. He moved his hand back to his side even though he was sure the crown had slipped off into the grass anyway,

“Do you like clouds, daddy?” she asked him softly. He turned his head to look at her and she was laying there, staring at the sky. 

“Never really thought about it,” he replied honestly. She turned to look at him then, scrunching her face up with the most judgmental look he’d ever been given.

“Look at the clouds. Sometimes they look like things,” she murmured.

“I’ve seen that sometimes. Once I saw a cloud that looked like a co-... clock,” he muttered, shaking his head as he changed his words. Wouldn’t bode well for him as his first day being a dad coming out with that. 

He still remembered that day though, in the sweltering heat of Al Mazra in the middle of a mission. Wasn’t every day you see a cloud shaped like a fucking dick in the sky and he’d have thought he was hallucinating due to the heat if it wasn’t for Johnny seeing it too. The Scot had said it was the best thing he’d ever witnessed in his entire life. When Soap had got Price to look, the shape had changed and the old man was sure they were off their rockers. 

“Look at that one, it kinda looks like a bird doing this,” she pointed at a big cloud before she started flapping her arms around weirdly and he shook his head fondly before he looked back up at the clouds. He just watched them go by for a moment, enjoying the peace he felt. Something he wasn't sure he’d felt in a long while.

“That one kinda looks like a bum,” he murmured, pointing to a cloud.

“Daddy!” Beth burst out laughing, smacking his arm and he found himself laughing. Actually genuinely laughing and not the half arsed chuckled Johnny would draw out of him with a bad joke. It was an odd feeling to laugh like that, he was sure he hadn't done it since before he’d left for that mission, the one that ruined his life. It made him feel lighter.

“You can’t tell me it doesn't,” he huffed playfully and she laughed again.

“... It does, but you're still silly,” she snorted, making his whole body light up. 

She was so precious and he wasn't sure just how to handle it. He was sad things with Charlotte were so bad and he didn't want to think about how the hell he was supposed to fix that mess, but being able to spend time with Beth and bond with her meant the world to him. He could focus on Beth for now, one thing at a time. He’d build his family back up from the ground, brick by brick. He’d done it before, back with his brother and his mum and he could do it again. It’d be painful and probably take a while but he wouldn't waver, wouldn't give up. Not when he had the whole world in the palm of his hand. He couldn't give that up for anything.

[xenoglossy-but-also-fishing]

| to carry onward

I haven’t really been feeling all that amazing for a while, and I haven’t written anything for even longer than that, it feels like. So I thought ‘hey! Maybe I can write something to try and make myself feel better.’ 

I still don’t feel 100% better, but I do feel a lot better. So I thought I’d post it since I was happy with it and stuff. And... ya. I don’t really know what to add here. That’s all I wanted to say, anyways.

____________________

It must have been some time near the next morning. Just close enough for the slow beginnings of the day to begin, yet without the majority of the city rising from their beds. 

In other words, Amandine’s favorite part of the morning. 

The slow feeling of dawn, when the sun was just barely awake itself… it gave her a nice spot of time to herself. A good book, a nice cup of something warm, and a roaring fire… 

Then it was out the door to get on with whatever exciting plans she had for the day. 

At least that was usually how her mornings were spent. Yet judging the scent of hot chocolate that wafted through the house, this was not the ‘usual’ morning Amandine had come to know so well. 

Not that she minded. A change of pace was welcome, now and again, after all. After slipping into her house robe and putting on her slippers, Amandine sauntered off into the strongest source of the cocoa scent. 

“Oh. Sorry— did I wake you up?” Oliver stared at her with a nearly startled look. Steaming mug of hot chocolate cradled in between his hands, a blanket draped over him like some sort of veil. It was almost covering his eyes. 

She shook her head at first. Not trusting just him seeing the gesture alone, Amandine replied, “Not at all. I am usually awake at this hour of my own accord.” 

“Really? I had no idea.” 

“You’re quite welcome, then.” She grinned for a moment at her own words as she slipped into the room to steal her favorite spot on the couch. “I put a considerable amount of effort into not making too much noise in the mornings. It disturbs the magic.” 

And in trying not to wake him, either, yet that was likely a given. He struck her as one who did not like being woken up needlessly, and she was frankly not quite interested to find out.

Oliver looked around, eyes narrowed and half-squinted in suspicion. “Magic…” There was a soft hum, then a sudden turn back. “Wait. You don’t mean literal magic, do you?” 

“Metaphorical magic.”

“Right. I knew that,” he said with a nod. The way he looked off towards the fire said otherwise, yet Amandine chose not to mention it. The loudest noise in the room, for a brief moment, was him taking a long sip from the mug. 

“If I may be so bold as to ask, Oliver…” He looked back up mid-sip when she trailed off, “Just how long have you been awake? You’re usually much more... aware than this, for lack of a better term.”

It wasn’t as easy a question as Amandine thought. Oliver leaned forward, placed down the mug, and started counting on his fingers. He stopped for a moment, blinked, then finally shrugged. “...can I get back to you on that one? I can’t do math at this hour.”

“Shall I assume you’ve not slept since yesterday, then?” 

“That’s probably more accurate than any number I could give you, to be honest. Ya.” 

“Fury preserve, what have you been doing, then?” Taking a better look, it certainly looked like he’d been awake that long. She wasn’t entirely sure if Oliver was looking at her, or through her. Or both, somehow. “Attempting to gain a sixth sense through sleep deprivation?” 

At the moment that it took for Oliver to answer, the sudden fear of him agreeing with her response was vivid. Twelve only knew what one could get from so little sleep. Other than hallucinations and a handful of questionable decisions.

“I… don’t think that’s actually possible, is it?” 

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been foolish enough to attempt it,” Amandine answered with a short rise of one shoulder. 

“Anyways, no, I’m not trying to see ghosts. Or whatever a sixth sense entails. Five is good enough for me.” The mug was once again cradled in his palms. Thumb running across the handle in some sort of rhythmic, subconscious pattern. It was oddly distracting.

Amandine’s gaze moved away from the mug handle. “Well then, forgive me my curiosity. I do hope you try and get some sleep soon.” All the talk of sleep did nothing but make her drowsy. A nice cup of coffee would set her right, at least— or, in a brief flash of an idea, “Did you happen to make any more hot chocolate? Assuming it isn’t cold by now, I may pour myself a mug, as well.”

“It should still be warm enough, I think.” Oliver looked up again from where his eyes had dropped. Once more looking rather surprised at the sudden words. More tired than he appeared… how good he hadn’t accidentally spilled hot cocoa on himself from nearly falling asleep like that. 

_______________________

The hot chocolate was far better than Amandine had thought to imagine. Clearly, it was a beverage Oliver had down to a fine art. 

“I’ll need to pester you for your methods of cocoa making,” she remarked to him as she walked back into the living space. The heap of blanket that was curled onto the opposite chair to her own said he was still sitting there. Whether he was awake there… 

There was a sharp intake of breath and a few mumbled words. “Thanks.” That was far clearer, at least. “It’s, um, this recipe that Syd always used.”

“Ah.” She took a long sip, “I see.” 

The silence that settled in was a few shades too tense than Amandine would have liked. Sydessin was still a rather sore topic to speak of. She had some doubts about the idea that their departed friend would stop being one. Death ever seemed to have that effect. 

It took another few moments for either of them to say something again. “Hey, Mandi?” The sleepy hints in Oliver’s tone were almost gone, suddenly. 

“Mhm?” Another short sip and Amandine’s attention was solely on him. 

“I… know we technically are already, but…” he trailed off, let out a breath, and asked, “Could we talk? About… something?” 

For some reason, ‘something’ didn’t feel like it was a hot chocolate recipe. Amandine placed down her mug, shifted in her seat, and nodded a few times in confirmation. “Of course. What is it you had in mind?” 

“Great. I just… wanted to ask, I guess. Do you ever just feel, like… tired?” 

The feeling of ‘not quite what it sounded like’ didn’t leave— in fact, it only seemed to have gotten sharper. “I doubt there is a soul who does not feel tired from time to time,” she answered with a slow hesitance. Head tilted by the slightest hint at the question, and her caution in the answer she gave. “No one is truly immune from feeling tired, after all. Hence why sleep is such a valuable tool, I would wager.” 

“I don’t mean sleep-tired,” Oliver said with a few shakes of his head. “I mean as in tired-tired. Even if you get a full night’s sleep, you still wake up feeling like you didn’t so much as close your eyes once.” 

So that’s what he meant. She’d had a feeling that was… hm. “More often than is perhaps healthy, in that sense, yes.” There was a mutual pause to sip their cocoa. Amandine didn’t bother putting her cup back onto the table afterwards. 

“Ya.” There was a sudden rise in his shoulders, and then all of the tension suddenly dropped. The blanket nearly fell over Oliver’s eyes, yet he pushed it back up to only cover his head. “I’ve been feeling like that for a while.” 

“There is little surprise as to why. These past months have been… eventful, after all,” she agreed. ‘Eventful’ was probably the mildest word she had for it. From Sydessin’s death to Eada’s announced retirement, they did not want for tragedy nor action. 

“And with all we still haven’t even begun to deal with, either… I can barely think of it all without wanting to curl up into a ball and cry, or something.” 

“There is undoubtedly a lot on our plate.” And more to come, as he’d said. Amandine let out a sigh and took another long sip. The hot chocolate was beginning to lose some of its heat. “There is little wonder why it has begun to crack.”

“It’s a surprise the plate isn’t in a million pieces already,” Oliver muttered into his mug. The look in his eyes was somewhere between jaded and frustrated. Or, more accurately, a healthy dose of both at the same time. 

There were plenty of things Amandine considered saying. Flourished and hopeful, frankly— she knew well enough the feelings he meant, and they didn’t feel all together helpful to herself, either. Yet it was worth enough of a try, if nothing else. 

“Well, I know not about the plate, yet I’ve been much helped of late by the support of friends,” Amandine told him. Her pinky finger flicked to his general direction before settling back into the mug. “Their presence does little to alleviate the weight of all that has happened, that much is true. Yet it goes some way to making it a little easier to carry, even if it is for but a few moments. And even should I stagger and fall, they are there to help me find my footing once more. And I for them.” 

Something of a smile crossed his face. Oliver nodded slowly a few times, mug rising just to his mouth before he took a sip. Weighing the words, it seemed to Amandine. “I guess so. That tired feeling is never as bad when I’m with you.”

“I’m full glad to hear it. And, in an unexpected turn of events, I feel the exact same way in your presence.” 

He got up after a moment, finishing off the last few mouthfuls of hot chocolate in his mug. “I should probably be getting to bed… I feel a lot better for talking. Tired, still, in more ways than one, but… I think I’ll be alright.” 

“I wish you a fitful sleep, then. Take care of yourself, Oliver,” Amandine told him with a final warm glance and a wave. 

“You too, Mandi. I don’t wanna sound too cheesy, but… thank you for, you know… being yourself and stuff.” 

“I can be nothing else.” She offered a wink and a laugh as Oliver turned away with a chuckle of his own towards his room. Full silence resumed in the room again, and Amandine turned back towards the fire, watching the flames dance.

What a simple sort of magic it was; both metaphorical and literal. Even in the bleakest of times, or the blackest of nights— there was ever some small hint of solace to take shelter in. To carry onward for and from.

[cerberus-writes]

GAME UPDATE 21/06.

Hello! It’s me!

First of all, apologies for the wait! Secondly, just a heads up that this is not a content-oriented update (that will follow soon-ish), but one that is aimed at testing and working out bugs in the Twine code. Thirdly, I’ve forgotten how to write update posts, so bear with me here. Details below the cut as usual!

Snakeroot is now written in Twine, and hosted on itch.io!

LINKS: DEMO / DISCORD

CHANGELOG.

There isn’t much new content (the demo still ends after talking to Raine), but there have been some edits, additions, and revisions, bringing the new word count up to 15.5k.

There’s been some minor edits to lore & character creation: ursine and crocodilian shifters are now playable, and chimaeras have undergone a little lore revamp.

Illustrations have been added! They’re mostly for the codex right now, but I’m eventually going to look into incorporating a little window for visuals in a VN-type of vibe, so stay tuned for that.

A brand new look! I’ve tried to make the UI decently customisable -- you should be able to toggle between a dark & light theme, adjust font family and font size, and toggle options for things like codex notifications, dialog tags, and content warnings. It should (hopefully) also be responsive to device size!

Also a bonus that I almost forgot about: a Spotify playlist for some instrumental vibes to accompany your reading.

Regarding feedback, feel free to reach out about any code or continuity issues, typos and pronoun inconsistencies, or anything else that stands out as an error. I’m also happy to take feedback on UI adjustments and additions, so please give a shout either in my inbox or over discord. If something looks funky, chances are I’ve missed it; my testing process is as haphazard as ever and I tend to Terrible At Perceiving Things.

Aaaand that should be it! As always, thank you for sticking around!

[zzizzigom]

Fun | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Fem!Reader (2nd person p.o.v but no Y/N use) Genre/Warning(s): no warnings, minor fluff Length: 1.8k words Summary: in which you've joined Sam and Bucky on their mission and have ended up at Sharon's home in Madripoor. AO3 Link

A/N: I haven't written something in AGES, and this isn't anything particularly special but it's something I was able to finish and that's a relief for me right now. If you read it, I hope it brings at least a little joy to your day:)

Apologies for any typos I may have missed while editing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stood at the bar, drink in hand, as you people watched. The overall vibe of Sharon’s house-turned-club was jovial. You’d caught glimpses of Sharon speaking to buyers, tablet in hand. You didn’t know how she got any type of business done in this environment but, looking at the state of the mansion and the fact she has it all to herself, it seemed to be working just fine for her.

From the corner of your eye you caught sight of a figure sauntering towards you. Your gaze dragged to the man and watched with barely hidden contempt as he smirked. As soon as he came within earshot you met his gaze. “Turn around. You don’t want me.”

His eyes went blank and the smirk fell off his face. His voice was monotone and heavy as he repeated, “I don’t want you.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked back the way he came. You watched for a moment, only turning away when he shook his head clearing away the compulsion. Lifting your champagne flute to your lips, you catch sight of Zemo circling the dance floor. Surprisingly, he’s bobbing his head to the music and you almost laugh. You figured Zemo would’ve preferred a classical piece or maybe some type of orchestral villain theme song.

Your eyes linger for a moment, the usual suspicion settling on your shoulders but when he continues to just bob to the beat you figure it’s fine. Next to you, someone plops down on the empty stool and you turn readying the command to leave you alone. It dies on your tongue when you catch sight of Sam.

“You watching Zemo, too?”

“Yeah. But unless his killer dance moves are actually murderous, I think we’ll be fine.”

Sam snorts and takes the drink the bartender hands him. “Anything from Sharon yet?”

“Nope. She’s still doing her rounds.” You sigh and then move in for another sip only to find your glass empty. Setting it down on the bar top, you turn away from it. If you’re expected to be going straight to Nagel’s hideout after this you don’t want to have too much.

“I saw you turn that guy away,” Sam commented.

“Okay.” Years ago someone pointing out you using your abilities would’ve brought you shame and guilt. But now it no longer bothered you…too much.

“If Zemo can seemingly have fun for a little bit, so can you.”

You scoff and cut him a glance. “Sam, that man looked ready to spike my drink the first chance he got.”

“Okay, maybe not with him, but you can loosen up a little bit. You’re over here looking ready to slit a throat.”

Grinning, you shake your head. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m having fun. In fact, this is my leave because I was in the middle of telling a story to some criminals.”

Laughter bubbles out of your mouth, “Don’t get too friendly.” Sam nudges your arm with his elbow and steps away. You see him join a group and you can’t hear what he says to them but you do hear some of their laughter over the music.

Rolling your neck to loosen some of the tension, you turn to the bar again. Screw it. One more won’t hurt. You catch the bartender’s eye from where he stands and point to your glass. He nods and starts to pour another one. Once your new drink is in hand you decide that while you may not need to have “fun” you don’t need to stand in the same spot the whole night.

You take your time moving through the crowd, careful to keep dancing people from bumping into your drink. The top Sharon lent you is a smooth ivory colored silk and the last thing you want to do is return it damp.

Finding the art displays, you move through the lit up cases. The music is still loud, but in the tucked away corner it’s not as deafening. A few other people lingered at paintings and artifacts but none paid you any mind. You pause at a painting you vaguely recognize but you don’t know enough about the art world to name the piece or the artist.

It’s a beautiful painting, the way the soft colors mesh together brings a small calm to you. You feel the presence of someone standing behind you, and with it brings the new swooping feeling in your chest, but before you can do anything a familiar voice speaks, “This one is worth $10 million.”

You give a low whistle and take a sip of your drink. You don’t think you’ve ever had that much money in your life. Looking over your shoulder, you find Bucky looking at the painting with his hands in his pockets. His shoulders are a little stiff and his jaw is tense. His brow is mildly puckered and though his eyes come back to look at the painting, they dart off as if still surveying the room. You imagine this is how you looked to Sam standing at the bar. Lips quirking you nod at him. “Modern day night life not doing it for you?”

Bucky only gives a soft grunt.

You continue, “What? Bucky Barnes didn’t get down back in his day? You said you liked 40's music, right? I could make the DJ switch it up for you.”

The looks he shoots you is exasperated and mildly annoyed. You can’t help but add. “Believe it or not but I can do a mean swing step. You wouldn’t be alone out there.”

“You’re being annoying.” Despite his words you catch the faint smile and mirth in his eyes.

“Ah, ah! I saw a smile!” When Bucky only continues to stare you give him a shrug. “I’m taking the brooding silence as confirmation.”

You start to move on to the next painting, expecting him to turn the other way but instead he moves with you. You didn’t want to dwell on it (a.k.a get your hopes up about it), but you noticed him doing that more and more. As you take in the old looking necklace in front of you, you catch sight of Zemo through the glass case. He’s now in the middle of the dance floor…dancing…

You laugh a little and give a shake your head. Bucky seems to follow your gaze and you hear another grunt from him.

“I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing him dance.”

“You know, if Zemo can have fun, so can you.” You use Sam’s earlier words to you. Hopefully that doesn’t make you a hypocrite.

Bucky is quiet and you don’t think too much about it, starting to get used to it. Moving on from the necklace, you take in another painting. This one is not your favorite, the harsh lines and odd colors bring a mildly confused frown to your face. Your head tilts as you continue to study the piece. Behind you, Bucky says, “I am having fun.”

Without looking at him you reply, “Are you?”

“Yes.” This finally pulls your attention and you turn to meet his eyes. “I think you’re fun.”

Bucky takes his hands out of his pockets and starts to fidget with the cuff links on his borrowed jacket. You can't quite tell if he's telling the truth, or just saying that to make sure you don't feel awkward. However, you know enough about Bucky to know that if he didn’t want to be talking to you he would’ve left, or he wouldn’t even have spoken to you in the first place so he must be telling the truth. At your silence, he drops his hands and clears his throat.

“Are you having fun?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you think about it. Bucky’s face gives nothing away as he waits your answer. Part of you wants to open up your senses and let your powers read his emotions but you stop yourself. Instead you think about the past few days and the situation you’re in. When you practically forced yourself onto the airplane with Bucky and Sam, you figured it would only be for one mission, something to get the sudden need for danger and adventure out of your system.

You never imagined it would’ve brought you to breaking out a criminal from prison and then ending up at a former colleague’s illegal art dealership, and you couldn’t imagine where it’d lead you from here. And yet despite the ups and downs this adventure has brought to your little group…

“I suppose I am having fun,” you finally reply. You can’t stop from adding, “It’s been…fun learning more about you and Sam. We’ve all fought together before, but I never really took the time to get to know either of you. It’s been nice, all things considered.”

There’s quiet between the two of you. The song has shifted into a new melody, this one just as pounding as the last but it doesn’t seem as if either of you are paying attention to it. You give a soft laugh and down the rest of your champagne. “Sorry. That was more than you asked for.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bucky responds. He steps a bit closer. “I agree. I kept my circle to Steve and, against my will, Sam—“ he pauses when you give a quick laugh “—Even during the whole Accords stuff, I didn’t really interact with the team and then I went off to Wakanda. It’s nice to have another person to talk to.”

Movement behind Bucky catches your attention and your eyes are pulled from his soft expression. Behind him, Sam approaches looking around at all the art pieces. “Figure I’d check in on the dark and brooding duo.”

“You just checked on me,” you shot back.

“Well, I’m checking on you again. I lost sight of Sharon.”

“She’ll find us when she’s ready,” Bucky replied. He heaved a sigh and shoved his hands back into his pockets.

You nod your agreement but before you can say anything Zemo’s voice carries through the room as he steps up next to you. “Well, I will admit this has been quite entertaining but I’m ready to get a move on.”

“We were just talking about that.” Sam turned to the necklace you’d been looking at earlier. “As nice as all this art stuff is I’m getting antsy.”

Everyone falls into silence and through your senses you can feel that everyone agrees. You think about telling everyone to split up and find Sharon to ask if she’s found anything but soon she steps around a display case.

“Hey, guys, I got something. Let’s go.”

Zemo steps around you and him and Sam follow after her immediately. Setting your glass down on a nearby table you turn and find Bucky waiting for you. “Ready for this?”

Giving a sure nod you move past him and after a moment you can sense him take up the rear.

[yukimoji]

My World: Part 3 ( Tanjiro Kamado x Reader )

( a/n: hello! welcome to part 3 and the final part of the “my world” series! this became longer than i had initially expected, i apologize deeply for that. also, i'm sorry if it seemed like i shitted on kanao too much, im so sorry bby i still love u. take note there will be grammar errors and typos, bec im blind and i always seem to miss those errors rip. thank you all for following “my world”, and i hope you all enjoy! )

(also, how do u even write angst?? i tried my best and i hope ya’ll dont get too disappointed with my poor excuse of angst lololol)

Part 1 I 2 I 3

Total words: 6600+ words

Genre: Angst and Fluff

!!MAJOR, MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Warnings: Mentions of blood

--

With each passing day, it felt like you were getting closer towards the edge of the line.

In a dark tunnel, you stood there, wandering aimlessly towards the light that could not be even seen for miles and miles. An endless loop of nothingness, as the feeling of dread, terror, and fear consumes you from the hidden depths of your mind.

You hoped and wished that one day you could see even a tiny glimpse of what lies ahead of you. Wondering if there's more to it than the endless bloodshed and horrors you've seen hundreds of times now.

But then, suddenly, a warm entity started to walk alongside you. A feeling as warm as the bright rays of the morning sun, and an inexplicable feeling of something accompanying you on your endless journey.

Even when immersed in darkness, the underlying warmth seemed to radiate from that figure. There was a tinge of happiness in your harsh world that made the road to the unseen light seem less lonely than before.

However, with every step, the distant light gets dimmer and darker.

And the warm feeling beside you blazes into a raging, roaring, sea of fire.

The morning after you received the heartfelt letter from Tanjiro, word broke out that Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu had defeated Lower Moon One.

You were rejoiced to hear that your comrades had defeated another member of the Twelve Demon Moons. When you heard the news for the first time, you promptly darted to find the nearest pen and paper to congratulate the trio. However, you stopped dead in your tracks when your Kasugai Crow screeched out the status of the Hashira that the trio had accompanied.

Rengoku Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, has died after an encounter with Upper Moon Three.

Your eyes were as big as saucers, as you stood there in shock. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Upper Moon 3? Hashira? Dead?

You've never really had a proper conversation with the Flame Hashira, but you've had high respects for him. The way he would hold his sword with pride and his never-ending sense of justice would always bring hope to you and your fellow slayers. You could still remember the words of encouragement he would say every time he would have encountered the lower ranks like you.

"Always set your heart ablaze!"

Hearing about the death of such an important figure in the Demon Slayer Corps made you tighten your jaw. Your hand clenches at the thought of someone so kind and strong had died of such a painful death. You inhaled tiny and long breaths as you try to calm yourself down from the frustration rising in your veins.

He would've wanted his death to inspire the Demon Slayers to fight harder, and you will. His fate will not be in vain as long as the Demon Slayer Corps will continue fighting on.

If you feel angry, you could only imagine as to how Tanjiro felt. Knowing the boy, he would've befriended and had grown attached to the fallen Hashira. Your face contorted into one of sadness. He would be distraught, seeing the Flame Hashira die in front of his very eyes.

You glanced at the paper and the pen at the corner of your vision, and decided to write to the Hanafuda-clad slayer. You went to grab the items and sat down to start writing your letter.

You couldn't be there to physically comfort him, you were too far away. You prayed that this letter would suffice, as you could not do anything more to console the Burgundy-haired boy.

--

Tanjiro made his way back towards the Butterfly Estate, after visiting the Rengoku Estate to deliver Kyojuro-san's final wishes. He gazed at the katana guard that was given to him by Senjoru, Kyojuro-san's little brother. He sighs sadly at the thought of the Flame Hashira, his words echoing in his mind.

"Live on and set your heart ablaze!"

Breathing out softly, his Crimson-hues looks upwards to the sky, staring at the moving clouds high above.

"CAW! A MESSAGE! A MESSAGE FOR KAMADO TANJIRO!"

"Yaah!" Tanjiro yells out in surprise at his crow's loud screeching, but his expression brightened at the sight of a letter attached to it's legs. He then puts his arm out to let the crow land on it.

"Thank you!" He affectionately pats the head of the crow, and proceeds to take the letter placed delicately on it's legs. The crow screeches once more, and takes off.

Tanjiro looks at the crow flying away, and returns his gaze towards the letter in his hands. He reads the message written in it, and can't help a smile forming from his lips.

"What can be done, is for us to not let it define our days to come. We can choose to heal, whilst bearing the scars, whether alone or with someone precious.

For as long as you want me to, I will be here for you."

I read that somewhere, but I couldn't remember where, hehe.

I'm sorry for what happened. I can't imagine what you're feeling, but I will always be here for you. Rengoku-san will not be forgotten, and he will always live in our hearts and memories.

Be kind to yourself, Tanjiro. You mean the whole world to me.

- [ L / N ] [ Y / N ]

Tanjiro chuckles softly at the letter, and holds it close to his chest. He sniffles as he flutters his eyes close, the corners of his mouth turning up into a thankful grin.

"Thank you, [ Y / N.]"

--

Months pass, another mission comes by after the completion of another mission. As the weeks gone by, you could find yourself growing stronger each passing day.

During your time apart, you and Tanjiro would often exchange letters. Usually, it was him describing his missions in full detail and how Zenitsu and Inosuke were doing as they worked alongside with each other. Every now and then, little scratches and odd pen marks will decorate the surface of the paper, which you could only assume is Nezuko's doing.

You, on the other hand, would also write about your missions. Occasionally, you would tell him about random stuff, little things on your mind as you go about your day.

One thing remains constant, though. The two of you would always end a letter with a heartfelt sentence that became your little way of saying "I love you" for each other.  

"You mean the whole world to me."

Today, me, Inosuke, and Zenitsu went to Yoshiwara with Uzui-san. He basically forced us to come with him, because he wouldn't stop harassing the poor girls back at the Butterfly Estate if we didn't go. He said he was looking for his three wives, as they stopped contacting him after going undercover to find a demon in the district. Can you believe it? Three wives?!

When we arrived, Uzui-san immediately dressed us up as girls and we were sent off to brothels where we could hopefully find the demon causing havoc in the area. Honestly, I'm kind of glad that you weren't here to see me. Not because I don't want you to be with me, no no no! I actually miss you so much and I just want see you again and I just-

It's because I looked absolutely ridiculous! Seriously, it was a miracle that I was able to pass up as a girl!

Anyway, it's my first night here, and so far, there's no sign of a demon. There's been rumors going around about young women suddenly committing suicide without explanation. There's something fishy going on around here, that's for sure.

I'm going to end my letter here. Tomorrow's another day, and we will do our best to make this mission a success.

Stay safe, [ Y / N ].

You mean the whole world to me.

- Kamado Tanjiro

Of course, there were moments where you were worried sick for the boy. When news broke out that the Sound Pillar and the trio defeated Upper Moon 6 in the Red Light District, you were absolutely ecstatic. Another Upper Moon had been slain, and you couldn't be more proud  for the trio.

That is, until Tanjiro abruptly stopped sending letters.

During those moments, you could only send letters to the Butterfly Estate, asking about Tanjiro's health and condition. You tried not to get your emotions get the best you, but you couldn't help it. Not when Tanjiro was laying in a bed, unconscious, and out of your reach.

You found comfort of the letters that replied to you. Kanao, the Butterfly Pillar's Tsuguko, started writing back to you, and kept you up-to-date of Tanjiro's well-being that would soothe your anxious nerves. You were thankful for her, as she would always write back to you every night without fail.  

Gradually, you began to get to know her, and eventually thought of her as a friend. Since she was a little shy, you gladly told her about your days and endless missions, and maybe a little bit of jokes and puns to lighten up her day.

It wasn't long too until she started talking about the things she liked, like how she enjoys blowing soap bubbles and considers it a hobby. She would also talk about how she likes sweets and accessories, squishing cat paws and helping with the cooking at the Butterfly Estate.

Who knew, that the girl who wrecked you mercilessly during your Rehabilitation training was actually such a lovely and adorable girl who enjoyed the little things in life?

When Tanjiro finally recovered, you never stopped sending letters to Kanao. She was a fun pen pal and a friend to have, because she would listen to each time you would either rant about your day or just say some dumb puns when you're too bored to function.

One day, Tanjiro told you that he was going to the Swordsmith Village to ask for a replacement for his sword. That night, he spoke of how the Love Pillar and the Mist Pillar were present in the village, and how he had the chance of speaking to Genya Shinazugawa, the Wind Pillar's younger brother.

For days on end, the Crimson-eyed slayer would tell you about a training doll that mimicked the strongest Demon Slayer who ever lived. He would rant endlessly, telling you about a swordsmith who trained him to the bone without food and water. He told you, one day, he accidentally smashed the doll into pieces, revealing a worn and old sword hidden inside of it.

You snickered, and you could already hear Tanjiro's voice, which was loaded with panic and anxiety, just by reading the contents of his letters.

You were pleasantly shocked the next day, when your Crow announced the news of the deaths of Upper Moon Five and Upper Moon Four.

Tanjiro was like a magnet for the Upper Moons, and you can't help but feel a heavy sensation in the depths of your stomach.

It felt like the calm before the storm, as after Tanjiro's experience in the Swordsmith Village, there was a rapid decline in Demon activity all across the country.

--

However, it seemed like the crow didn't exactly tell you everything regarding the Village's aftermath.

After what seemed like forever, you made your way back to the Butterfly Estate. Since demons have not been running all over the place, there weren't as much many missions as there was before. Your crow yelled at you to go back to the estate, but hey, you weren't complaining about that.

You couldn't contain the excitement, a giddy expression ever present on your face. Each step brought you closer to your destination, and as the Estate finally presented itself to your vision, you practically skipped your way in order to reach the area faster.

You heard shouting in the distance. There were cries of panic, seemingly asking someone to come back. You didn't stop your hurried pace, but your eyes widened in both joy and shock when you saw the familiar raven locks of your demon friend, who was now running towards you at full speed.

In broad daylight.

"[ Y/N ]! [ Y/N ]! [ Y/N ]!" Nezuko cries out in joy, jumping at you with all of her strength. You couldn't react on time as she lands on you, and the both of you tumbled to the ground. She was hugging you, a hand affixed on top of your head, patting it relentlessly.

"Oof! Hi, Nezuko!" You laughed at her antics, and hugged her back without hesitation.

You were confused, that's for sure. Even though you were absolutely overjoyed to see your friend, your mind was screaming confused thoughts on how on earth she was able to hug you underneath the blazing sun. Not only that, she was not wearing her usual bamboo muzzle and she spoke your name! She actually spoke! Her voice was absolutely adorable!

"Welcome back!" She cheered happily, and you already feel yourself melt into a puddle at how cute she was acting. She continued to nuzzle onto you, and you felt a sense of pride knowing that an incredibly cute and sweet girl was aggressively showering you with love and affection.

"EH?! [ Y / N ]'S BACK! SHE'S BACK!" You snapped your head to the source, and beamed at the sight of Zenitsu calling out to the residents of the estate, signalling your arrival.

"It's nice to see you again, Zenitsu!" You called out and waved at him, a bright smile present on your face. You couldn't really move, not when Nezuko wasn't done hugging you and spoiling you rotten with her affection.

Zenitsu's eyes widened for a second, until he began jumping around and screaming out a series of chants like the madman he is.

"REALLY? IT'S REALLY NICE TO SEE ME AGAIN?! AW! DON'T FLATTER ME, [ Y / N ]! YOU SHOULD'VE TOLD ME BEFORE THAT YOU HELD ME IN SUCH A HIGH REGARD! YOU KNOW, IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO ASK FOR MY HAND IN MARRIAGE!"

Your smile began to fade, and you could look at him with utter dismay as he proceeded to yell out nonsense.

But then, a familiar voice calls out. The voice that you've yearned to hear for months, as it makes your heart skip a beat as it gets louder and closer.

Tanjiro comes out from the estate, looking around frantically, a desperate expression evident in his gentle features. He looks at your direction and he goes stiff as a statue the moment he locks eyes with you. His eyes began to water, his lower lip quivering from the sight of you.

He races up to you, rivaling with the pace Nezuko had when she assaulted you. Instantaneously, he engulfs you in his loving embrace, and you couldn't hold back your giggles and laughter as he proceeded to wreak havoc on your face with little kisses.

Nezuko lets out a sound of pleasure and releases her hold on you. She watched her brother as he coddled you with so much attention, and she clapped happily at the sight.

After what seemed like ages, Tanjiro stopped attacking your face with kisses and raised a hand to softly caress your cheek. His crimson-hues looked at you with so much passion and adoration, and you gazed at him lovingly in reciprocation.

Slowly he leans in to you, his forehead brushing yours. The corners of his mouth are pulled up, a ridiculously goofy expression adoring his features. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks because of the close proximity to his face, but still, you gave him the biggest grin you could muster up.

He chuckles and closes his eyes, nuzzling on you as he holds you in his arms protectively.

"I missed you. So, so much." He breathes out, and you giggle as his warm breath fans your flushed face.

"I missed you too, you big baby." You fluttered your [ E / C ] close, holding him tight and not wanting to let go.

After months of hardship, stress, and pain, you find yourself once again welcomed by your home and your world.

You spent the next few days roaming around the estate, with Tanjiro beside you, holding your hand at every moment. Not just that, you've got to spend time in the garden with Nezuko again! Only this time, you were accompanied by the presence of Zenitsu, Inosuke, and even Kanao!

Each day was filled with laughter and joy. Even when the Hashiras decided to train every slayer in harsh training routines, your happiness never faded. Given the sweat and soreness of your muscles as you shift from one Hashira to another, you would always be rewarded with the sight of the bright stars shining brightly over all of you.

But one day, that happiness seemed to fade away. The devastation and cruelty that you had faced before came back from the ashes of the past, as each second escalated into the catastrophic hell that you were now forced to face.

One night, every Hashira unexpectedly went on a high alert. You couldn't understand what was going on, and you were even more perplexed when Tanjiro suddenly asked you to stay alert and left in a haste. You stood beside the campfire, confused, and you couldn't control the familiar feeling of dread swallowing you up again.

Your instinct was telling you that something terrible and unprecedented was about to happen. Your heart was thumping uncontrollably on your chest, as you started to sweat and tremble from the overwhelming feeling of uncertainty that made shivers run up to your spine.

Unfortunately, your fears were confirmed when a loud explosion was heard in the distance.

You gasped, as you felt the ground suddenly disappear. You couldn't respond quickly, your mind spinning out of control as you fell down to a fortress filled with demons that seemed to stretch out forever.

You breath hitched as you came back to your senses. You looked around, trying to find something or somewhere that could end your endless free fall. You felt a sense of hope as an area where you could land safely came into view. Your eyebrows were knit together, mouth clenching as you performed a breathing technique and landed swiftly at the edge of the structure.

The moment you landed, demons started to flock towards you. Your blood began to boil, rage rapidly overcoming you. You unsheathed out your sword, tightened your grip on the handle, and immediately slashed your way through the hordes of demons. It was then you realized, that it was the beginning of the end, and that it was going to be a long night.

In a blink of an eye, smiles turned into anger, laughter turned into screams, as what was once happiness was now destroyed and replaced by rage and anguish.

And whenever happiness is destroyed,

There's always the smell of blood.

--

Hours of endless bloodshed. Thousands upon thousands of casualties had rained upon the ranks of the Demon Slayer Corps. You had seen the brutal fighting with your very own eyes, and the rage only intensified with each life taken by the hands of those ruthless demons.

The Twelve Demon Moons had perished. But at the cost of their heads, were the lives of your mentors, comrades, and friends.

However, it finally seemed like their sacrifices were not in vain.

The sun had risen, and Muzan Kibutsuji howled out in pain as the sun's fiery rays started to burn him. He had taken the form of a large, hideous baby, as he desperately tries to hide away from the sun's burning gaze.

Almost everybody was severely injured; there were severed limbs, large gashes, and heavily bleeding wounds.  

Despite the overwhelming pain, the remaining slayers continued to fight on, too high on adrenaline and determination in order to bring Muzan to his demise. Everybody held on, performing everything they could do to make the Demon King roast under the sunlight and suffer for his crimes.

Right now, you were driving a bus, speeding towards the crawling abomination. You slammed on the pedals, accelerating at full speed as you rammed into the enormous, yet horrific excuse of a baby.

"Stay down, you bastard!" You yelled out, a dangerous glint twinkling in your eyes as you couldn't help the sides lips tugging up into smug smirk.

You jumped out of the vehicle right before a big hand smashed the front portion, as a voice commands you and nearby Kakushi to push the back portion to block Muzan from moving further. You all gathered together and pushed with all your remaining strength, yells of determination echoing out to stop Muzan from going further.

Your eyes widen as a large hand rises, but before he could smash you all into pieces, the Wind Pillar successfully cut off it's hand on time. You all continued to push, but Muzan was starting to overpower you all and was slowly going over the vehicle.

Then, you heard the loud clank of chains, and saw the monster stumble back as a large chain had wrapped itself on the demon's neck, forcing him to stay in place. You all moved out, and went to the Stone Pillar, aiding him by holding him in place as he uses all his power to grip unto the chains in order to pin the beast down. Muzan hollered out, as he continued to burn under the sun.

Determined to find shade and escape death, the huge monstrosity resorted to dig himself into the earth. The Hashiras then took turns attacking the abomination, attempting to wear off its stamina. All hope seemed lost, as the chains, and all of your energy rapidly depleted as Muzan continued his struggle.

Then, against all odds, the demon throws his head back in a final, ear piercing scream. Gigantic tears fell down from it's hideous face, and after what seemed like eternity, it's body finally crumbled into nothingness.

There was a pause. You all held your breath, the heavy tension in the air suffocating you all. Disbelief was evident on your faces, as you could not properly process what had just gone down.

Then, you all erupted into loud yells of victory.

Muzan is dead. The Demon Slayers had won.

You all cried out in happiness. Centuries of battle, bloodshed, and death finally bearing its fruit. Everyone embraced each other, beaming smiles present in every slayer's face as the shouts of triumph echoed across the battlefield.

"It's not over yet!" A Kakushi yells out, "Stand up! Treat the wounded! Don't cry, you fools, stay focused! We can save them!" You all looked around, and saw the bodies of several Hashira and Demon Slayers slumped up all around. The celebration ceased as everybody started to scatter; newly found strength flooding them as they sought out to save the heavily injured.

In your peripheral vision, you saw Kanao hunched up and unconscious, and she was being tended by several Kakushi. You ran up to her, and your jaw clenched as you observed the injuries and blows she had taken. You kneeled down, and asked for one of them for bandages so you could help patch up your friend.

As you started to wrap up some of Kanao's injuries, lilac hues started to flutter open. She takes a moment to look at her surroundings, and when she sees you and a few Kakushi patching her up, her lips formed a small yet grateful smile.

"...Thank you."

Your eyes darted to look up to the voice, you gasped in relief and your expression brightened as Kanao weakly gives you a wry smile.  

You stared at her, the corners of your mouth tugging up and your eyes flickering with gratitude. After wrapping her wounds, you gently took her hand and encased it with your own.

"We won, Kanao." You whispered. Shutting your eyes close, you recalled the memories of how hard she fought against Muzan, along with Zenitsu, Inosuke, and the Hashiras. The ravenette just paused, and her mouth falling open as she was reflecting on what you had just told to her. Then, she breathes out in delight, and slowly raised her other hand to caress your own. Kanao's whole face lit up, and she beams at you, nodding her head in appreciation.

But then, suddenly, in the corner of her vision, something captures Kanao's attention. She stiffened, and her hand started to tremble under your gentle hold. Her forehead furrowed and she struggled to find her voice.

" [ Y - Y / N ]-chan..!"

You opened your [ E / C ] eyes, and glanced at your friend's facial features. You grew concerned, trying to make sense as to why she was shaking and sweating so much. Then, loud shouts began to echo and you felt a heavy sensation start to enclose your chest. You started to tremble, the loud yells becoming more frantic by each second. The feeling of dread returned, seemingly to taunt you as goosebumps rapidly washed over you. The girl returned her attention to your bewildered expression, her lilac orbs filled with worry and regret.

You hesitantly turned around and looked to where Kanao had her gaze on to figure out the source of her behavior. Instantaneously, your eyebrows elevated, a hand immediately clasping your mouth. Your eyes welled up in tears and the cries of distress escaped away as you stomached in the scene before you.

You stared ahead to meet the figure of your beloved Tanjiro.

But he didn't look like your Tanjiro.

A beast roared out, screaming and assaulting any being that was attempting to get close to him. You saw a glimpse of Zenitsu and Inosuke trying to hold back your transformed lover, the Water Pillar frantically yelling orders not get close to the boy, but to no avail.

It felt like the whole world had shattered right before your very eyes. You struggled to swallow back the bile rising to your throat, your breathes becoming more erratic as the hot tears endlessly fall from your eyes. You become absolutely racked with sobs, the heavy feeling on your chest intensifying to the point of suffocating you.

"Stop crying!"  You mentally scold yourself. "Now is not the time to cry! You have to help! You have to save him!"

But you couldn't move. You couldn't speak. You couldn't do anything but wail out in absolute heartbreak as Tanjiro further succumbed into hysteria.

No matter how hard you tried, your feet were glued to the ground. Your mind hurled insults, screaming at you to step forward, to run, and try to save your beloved. You could only look up to the heavens, reciting a silent prayer pleading to every Deity who was listening to stop this madness.

In the midst of your emotional turmoil, you have flashes of what once was. You recall how Tanjiro would hold you in moments of peace, how his eyes would fill up with tenderness and love whenever you locked eyes with him, and how his beaming smile seemed to brighten up even your darkest days.

Your heart continues to pound painfully in your chest as you gasp out endless incoherent breathes. You could hear his loving voice resonate in your head, your cries becoming more erratic at the thought that you could never hear his warmth-filled sound again.

"You mean the whole world to me, [ Y / N ]."

You could only look helplessly as the now human Nezuko began to cry out to her corrupted brother, holding him in place so that he could no longer hurt more people. Tanjiro continued to screech and thrash in the sister's grasp, his screams releasing powerful waves of energy that would blowed away anyone who had even dared to come near him.

Zenitsu and Inosuke were swept away by the strong shockwaves, but Nezuko never weakened her grasp, as she continues to hold on to her brother desperately. Tanjiro dropped down, the sound of the tearing cloth ringing around as massive and sharp tentacles exploded out of his back. Zenitsu cries out, terror overtaking his face as he desperately reaches out to save Nezuko.

But something still puzzles you. Your stomach still twisted at the sight of Nezuko bleeding, but what was perplexing was that Tanjiro declined to bite his sister. Even though he had a taste of his sister's blood, he resisted and refused to attack her.

Maybe, just maybe, your Tanjiro was still there, fighting to break free from his eternal prison.

"[ Y / N ]-chan." Kanao calls out. You snap out of you emotional daze and faced the girl. She looked at you with a hopeful expression, and she takes out a small box from her belt.

"We can still save him..." She starts, opening the box to reveal an injection. "My master gave this to me, and she said that this is medicine made out of Wisteria flowers that could turn demons back into humans."

Kanao coughs up blood, her face scrunching up as she groans out in discomfort. She stumbles forward because of the pain, and you instantly hold her to prevent her from falling to the ground. She looks up to you, and gives you a sad smile.

"Tanjiro turned into a demon just now. Even if I could evade his attacks with one eye, my injuries could get the best of me." She coughs again, placing a hand to her re-opened wound on her waist. She takes your hand and places the injection on it.

"There's still time, [ Y / N ]. Tanjiro loves you too much to even raise a hand at you."  

You looked down at the injection, your eyes filled with renewed determination. You nodded in agreement, then took long breaths to calm yourself down. You knew what you needed to do, and now, you could save him.

You wiped the trails of dried tears on your face, eyebrows drewn together as your expression hardened. Tightening your grip on the object, you stood up and turned around to confront Tanjiro.

"Thank you." You breathed out, forever grateful to Kanao for giving you this oppurtunity.

You inhaled deeply, oxygen rapidly flooding your veins. You could feel your muscles become stronger each second, as adrenaline fills you once more. Bursts of energy traveled all across your body, giving you the courage and power you needed to pull this off. You focused your strength on your legs, and in a flash, you dashed towards your lover.

"Tanjiro.."

The demon takes notice of a presence rapidly approaching him. He growls and turns his attention towards you. Scowling, he screeches loudly, tentacles aggressively whipping around at all angles to attack you.

"When this is all over, let's make our own world,"

You looked up to meet his eyes, and you were with scarlet ones, which were filled with hatred and rage. Your breathe hitches momentarily as a shiver ran up to your spine.

"A world where no one could tears us apart."

Tanjiro had never looked at you with such hostility before. However, you didn't let that faze you as you continuously dodged his never ending assaults against you.

"Enough is enough, Tanjiro."

You jumped and evaded the whips his tentacles threw at you. Then, an opening presents itself, your eyes dilating and you bolted even closer until you came face to face with the demon.

"You musn't make Nezuko cry."

Tanjiro howls out loudly, and he raises a hand with the intent to smash you. You quickly caught the glimpse of his clenched fist, and you leapt, avoiding his arm as it plunged downwards with such speed and strength.

"Come back to us, and you won't be ever lost again,"

You swore everything looked like it was in slow motion. In that moment, a bright light engulfed your surroundings. Your body flew above the demon, and when his back came into full view, you immediately pushed the cure into him. Tears shone in your [ E / C ] orbs, as a love-filled smile appeared on your features.

You didn't even feel the pain when a rouge tentacle managed to successfully pierce itself into you. Your tender gaze never left the boy, and you finally breathed out in relief. You fluttered your eyes close, and you tumbled helplessly against the surface.

"You are the whole world to me."

"[ Y / N]!" Nezuko calls out to you, her face contorted into one of pure horror as she watches your body make harsh contact with the ground.

Suddenly, Tanjiro stops moving. His tentacles ceased it's assaults, and slowly, but surely, it retreats back into his body. The boy to started to shake uncontrollably, exhaling out heavy breathes as his eyes trembled wildly as he stares at the sight of your injured body.

With all the remaining strength you could muster up, you looked up to the demon. Instead of the hatred and rage you had saw moments ago, Tanjiro's Scarlet-hues were filled with regret. Tears ran down his cheeks, sadness clouding over his demonic features.

You inhaled softly, and with each passing moment, you saw his eyes slowly turn back into the Crimson colored orbs that you loved so much. As seconds pass by, your vision began to darken. Exhaling out in exhaustion, you felt thankful that you get to see a glimpse of your Tanjiro once more. You heard loud shouts resound through the field, feeling something tending to your wounds before your sight was further consumed by darkness as you fell into unconsciousness.

--

" -Ma..?"

" -Ma!"

"Mama!"

You jolt up in surprise, trying to catch your breath as cold sweat falls down from the side of your face.

You take a moment to observe your surroundings, and you could find yourself sitting in a bench that was located at an open lake. Sakura trees were abundant, and their beauty was obviously not overlooked as pink blossoms flew around with the cool spring breeze. Flora was flourishing all over, and the sounds of the little animals living in the lake was prominent.

A nightmare? You thought. Sighing deeply, you let yourself fall back in the bench where you were sitting on. A small hand shakes on your own frantically, as you turned your head and smiled softly as a gigantic pair of eyes, clearly filled with worry, gazed into your own.

"I'm sorry, Takeo. Did Mama scare you?" You chuckled, as the child in front of you pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Stop dozing off like that! I was really worried when you started to cry in your sleep again!" Takeo exclaims out, puffing out his cheeks as he stomped on his foot in annoyance.

You laughed at his antics, your melodic voice echoing across the peaceful lake. You leaned forward and raised a hand to gently pat your son's head. The boy looked almost the same as you, seeing as he inherited your complexion, your facial features, and even your [H / C] hair.

There was one thing, though, that distinguished him from looking like a complete carbon copy of you.

He had Crimson colored eyes that he inherited from his father.

Takeo continues to huff out in annoyance, but he couldn't fight the flush rising up to his face from your act of affection towards him. Whether he was going to deny it or not, it was an irrefutable fact that he loved getting his head pats. As you observed Takeo's features, you felt warmth and tenderness embracing your chest. You pulled your hand away from his head and just chuckled at his failed attempts of trying to look angry at you.

"Papa asked me to fetch you, ya know.." Takeo mumbles, his Crimson-orbs looking away from you in embarrassment. "He says that Aunt Nezuko and Uncle Zenitsu are coming over today, along with Uncle Inosuke and Aunt Kanao. He figured that you would be glad to see them again."

"I see." You whispered. Your mouth slowly into a grin, and you nodded gratefully. You felt excitement and joy bubble up in you, as you beamed brightly to your son. "Thank you, Takeo. I'm absolutely delighted to hear that they're coming to visit today."

Slowly, you stood up from the bench, one hand holding on your son's arm for support and the other caressing your swollen belly. You looked up to the heavens, eyes sparkling with gratitude as a thankful sigh escaped from your lips. You shifted your attention away from the blue sky, and softly held your son's hand as you began your way back home.

"Let's go home, shall we?"

Once upon a dream, you never thought the possibility of true love coming to you all your life.

Growing up in a demon infested world, life seemed to be fond of throwing you into hardships and struggle. Despite the horrors of the world, you always persevered. For every challenge that has been hurled towards you, the tribulations have only made you grow stronger and better.

Your life may had started out roughly, but that doesn't mean that it did not change for the better. The endless bloodshed had become relics of the past, moments of time that helped shape the world as it is now.

Recalling those moments of uncertainty, the rays of sunlight peeking through what was once the dark and gloomy clouds had now completely engulfed your life with warmth and tenderness. What you once wanted to experience all those years ago, has now become your reality. The little bits of happiness that you yearned for, now held onto you, never wanting to leave any time soon.

As you get closer to your home, you could hear the voices of children laughing and playing. Soon, you saw a glimpse of your humble abode, and little kids that looked similarly to you and your husband came into view. Takeo releases his hold on you, and he excitedly makes his way towards his siblings. Your expression brightened, a permanent smile present on your face as you took in the sight of your children frolicking around with happiness evident in their faces.

Then, a warm hand snakes over your waist, pulling you towards a broad chest that belonged to your lover. You couldn't contain your giggles as your face was immediately assaulted by small pecks and kisses. His hanafuda earrings seemed to ring each time he moved his head, his long ponytail swaying alongside with the cool breeze. His crimson-eyes gleamed in adoration as he gazes into your own, an adorable grin affixed in his lips as he continued to lock you in his protective embrace.

Sakura petals flew all around, encasing your surroundings with a sense of peace and serenity. After years of struggle, you can finally wake up in the morning without the likelihood of a horrible and painful death looming over you, as your cruel and dark world was now behind you.

Those dark days were long over. Now that you had finally avenged your family and the numerous deaths Muzan Kibutsuji has inflicted upon humanity, you could finally spend the rest of your life in peace.

Now, you had finally found a place to call your home. With him, you had created a whole new world. A world that was overflowing with love and happiness. Now that he would always stay by your side, you won't have to be lost anymore.

Tanjiro lifts up a hand to softly caress your cheek, gazing at you with so much love and adoration. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he fluttered his eyes close and slowly leaned forward. Your expression softened, and you chuckled softly as you put your arms around his shoulders. Your eyelids close shut as you felt your chest swell up with so much emotion, as his lips finally captured yours into a love-filled kiss.

"You are the whole world to me, [ Y / N]."

( a/n: thank you, thank you, thank you so much for following “my world”! it means so much to me that some of you had taken a liking on this series :’D im sorry if there were mistakes and ooc-ness along the way;;;

thank you for reading, and stay safe! you all mean the whole world to me <3)

[ohhoneato]

Next up is Polo Dorenmorphercarger.

Yes that's his real name.

Born in a family of assassins run by his mother after his father passed away, the children in his family are asked to choose a new family name at a certain age, as a sign of maturity. His chosen name was Roamer, which is why Nero's last name was Roamer.

Their little brother, born after Nero's banishment, chose this last name. He obviously didn't mature.

I have a full short story written for Polo that shows off his character perfectly, written in a sort of letter format.

Before going any further though, I know I haven't really put any trigger warnings or anything, but this one really kind of needs it, although it doesn'tgo into detail. So:

Trigger warning: abuse, rape and death.

Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy.

Dear brother,

Mother told me I should start writing in a diary of sorts, as I am soon to begin assassin training. Instead of a “diary”, I decided instead to write letters to the one I care of most, you. As youngest I am the last to begin training, making mother quite worried. She is afraid I will not be good enough. I do not have an affinity for fighting, as you well know, so I will hopefully have an affinity for magic. You have just informed me that I am using too many commas and run on sentences. This isn’t actually meant to be read by you, I hope you know! I have informed you of this promptly and I hope you will take it to heart. I will keep you updated (not really) on the regular and be sure to tell you of everything. Please excuse the terrible punctuation, after all I am only nine.

Love, Polo.

Dear broter,

Sorry for any typos I make, I do not have much time between classes. Things have been very exciting within the last two days. I have begun a sword fighting class, mother beleives that I should be trained all around. Even if I am not very good at it, I can be mus….muscule… whatever… memory trained. It has been hard, but I beleive I may be getting the hang of it. Next class I have is to be a magic class. For using magical items. They are taking me out to find my own magical item within the next few days, but first I must pack and this class is to show me what to pack. I must go now, I was supposed to be in class a minute ago and lost track of time writing.

Love you, Polo.

Dear Brother,

It is my first day looking for a magical item and so far, I am having no luck. I had no idea it would be this difficult to find an item I’m supposed to have a spiritual bond with. Mother and the instructors have told me to stop sighing so many times today, I’m sure that could become their catchphrases. I’m tired and I miss you. But I’ve been assure that it will be worth it. I must carry on. After all, the family business rests on our shoulders. It’s about time I started my training. I must go and continue training. Please keep me in your thoughts.

Love, Polo

Dear Brother,

I have much time to sit and talk with you, as I have finally found it. It only took a week too, mother told us it usually took longer. It’s a shame though, I wanted to beat your record of three days. Ah well, you remain the superior brother for now. I’ll one up you one day. Now, more on the magical item. It is a pink spiritual stone, made for possession and deception. I know you won’t approve much of it, but it is what I’ve become attached to. I beleive it is most definatly mine to have. I will not abuse it’s powers, after all, I’m such a natural with it I shouldn’t have trouble mastering it. It has imbedded itself into my hand and can make copies of itself. It’s truely a marvel. It is also quite beautiful, sparkling like a Rose Quarts or something similar. I must be getting ready for bed now, I will write you more later.

Love, Polo.

Dear Brother,

As I thought, you are not pleased with my gift and have personally decided to speak to mother about it. I even now can hear you and mother yelling at each other. Why can’t you be happy about it? Does it seem too dark? I would have thought you’d be proud of me, finding something so fitting for the profession. No, actually, I can beleive you’re angry. You’ve always been quite protective of me, why would you be happy about this? But I am happy. I would like to keep being happy. I am finally making my way along, becoming one with the family, making mother proud! I’ve been trying so hard- You are exiting mother’s room. I must find out what has happened. I will write another letter in a moment.

Love, Polo.

Brother,

It has been a week since I finished my training and you were kicked out of the family for trying to attack our mother. Mother has tried to convince me to stop writing to you, but I won’t. You will always be my brother, no matter how foolish you act. You were the favorite. You were the best. The better brother. Why? Why would you throw that away so easily?! I need to know. I need to ask you. I have completed my training as I said, so mother will let me wander the city looking for work now. Just think, ten years old and I’m already good enough with magic and decent enough with a sword that I can hold my own in the real world. Why won’t you be proud of me? Why?

Brother,

I will not be writing for a few months as I will be traveling and taking jobs alone. I will have to be diligent and cunning. I will hopefully be seeing you soon.

Brother.

I am not sure I will ever be able to talk about this with anyone, including you. It has been months since I’ve written you, possibly years. I am Fifteen now. I looked back through my old letters. It’s sort of silly, I could not even spell believe correctly then, yet I believed myself ready to go out into the real world. I was so passive aggressive, saying things about you being the better brother. I even heard that within all this time, we now have a younger brother. I will treat him better than you treated me, I promise. I will love him more than you love me. This will be a great feat. You loved me more than life itself. You treated me better than royalty could ever expect. I miss you. Nero, I miss you. I love you. I always will. I wish you could have read these letters in life, especially this one. I am about to tell you what happened to me all this time. Well, a kind of short version. Leaving out some minor things. I wish I could leave some gruesome details out, but since you will never be reading this, no one will ever be reading this letter, I must for a therapeutic reason. Here goes the big thing. I was in the middle of a job. Kill the target, get out as soon as possible sort of thing, except my target had been informed of me. I’d made somewhat of a name for myself by then, I was about to turn twelve in three days time. I snuck into his room and instantly got rushed by his guards. I would have prefered almost any other sort of torture than what they did. My entire body shakes when I think of it. I cannot even stand human touch anymore. Which I feel terrible about, if I hadn’t allowed myself to become sloppy, such a vile thing wouldn’t have happened and perhaps I could have saved you. An odd sentence to be writing, and assassin saving someone’s life instead of taking it. But although what was done to me was unspeakable, I must at least force myself to write the words instead of avoid it as I am. They violated me. They raped me. I can still feel them inside me when I think about it and it sends me into waves of panic. I cannot breathe when I think of this act, I cannot sleep, I cannot live. I wish to die when I think of the incident. Isn’t that terrible. The Pink Gem has been trying to convince me to let her take over and I have almost been convinced many times. It’s hurts so much, she can make the pain go away. Then I thought of you and I now think of our new brother and realize I musn’t succumb, for surely she will try to hurt everyone for self gain. She is selfish, as I must admit it was that selfishness for the same end goal that drew me to her. To continue the story, I eventually after another year, found my way to you. You were living your life in hiding from all those who wanted revenge with a beautiful woman named Rose.

She was an all mother of sorts, as it seemed she took in those with magic whom were abandoned or lost. She was kind, gave me a place to eat and sleep, helping to clear my mind of that which had happened previously. She had the same powers as I, yet on a much smaller scale, only able to manipulate a single town at a time. She did not believe she need it on a larger scale, the humans she kept as slaves and pets were all she needed. I found myself both somewhat disgusted and intrigued by her beliefs. Back to you. I hadn’t even been looking for you at the time. I had sat down to eat and you’d walked up to me. You called my name quietly. I glanced up and the first look of hope came into my eyes that had been there in years. I ran to you and hugged you so tightly. And you hugged back. Oh you hugged back so tightly, I miss it still. I still feel it. I started to panic at the touch, but I forced it away, after all I had been the one looking for you, I’d initiated the hug, what would you think if I had just pushed you away. Then you spoke. And it all went away. All of the panic, all of the pain, all of the terrible thoughts, away with a simple “I love you.”

We released and we began to catch up. I skipped details of most that had happened when I’d begun my search till then. I told you it’d been uneventful. I could see you didn’t believe me. I knew you could see the deadness in my eyes. You could see I’d almost completely given up, not only on finding you, but life. I was tired. I still am. But I haven’t given up. Anyway, you told me about living with Rose, that she was kind, finding orphans and those who’d been kicked out of their towns and all. We both decided it would be better to talk in private. We both decided to walk outside to talk. I accidentally stepped outside of Rose’s protective circle. I was immediately ambushed. You raced to my aid, hacking and slicing away at the attackers, you took the initial hit that was aimed at me. We fought side by side, eventually being joined by Rose, who had sensed the trouble and came to help. We beat them. We beat the attackers. Why doesn’t it feel like we won? Is it because you took poison that was meant for me? Probably. I’m not going to lie. I sobbed the whole time, while her medics told us you didn’t have a chance, while I was saying the final goodbye, and especially when you answered my final question. Why?

“Because I loved you too much.”

So now you’re gone. I gained an ally in Rose, but I don’t know if I could ever face her again. She is just so compassionate and I fear I will not be able to be strong around her. I told her I would ever call if I needed help again though, to make her feel better. I must attempt to sleep so I may travel home in the morning. I love you.

Love, Polo.

Brother,

I made it home. I believe traveling home is where I left off. Our little brother’s name is Marco. He is amazing. I will protect him. Mother is gone, dead from childbirth. After all the assassination attempts, having another child is what did her in. That is most humorous. She doesn’t want me to keep writing these. Sometimes she sounds just like mother. I fear I am losing myself to her. I must go, I have things to attend to as new head of family.

Love, Polo

Brother,

What have I done? Oh gods above what have I done. I’ve hurt him. Marco, my only brother, I’ve done to him what was done to me, the act that has utterly destroyed me. No, it was not me. It was my body, but I have not done this. It was her! SHE DID THIS TO MY PRECIOUS SIBLING!

I MUST GET RID OF H-

Brother,

I am almost gone. I don’t have much time to write this. Marco has taken everything She has thrown at him, but I think she has finally broken him. Cori, his beloved Cori. She’s had him killed. I cannot let this keep happening, but I cannot control it. He will obey Her now. Perhaps if he does, She will stop hurting him. I am so sorry Nero. I’m so sorry Marco. I’ve failed.

Love, Polo.

Dearest Marco,

I wanted you to have these. She would have you be a mindless soldier, but I promised I’d be better than him. You need to know what made me this way, a powerless puppet. Enclosed are the letters I wrote to him, starting when I was nine years old. Our older brother was truly wonderful, I wish you could have met him. He would have been much better of a brother than me. Perhaps enclosed you may find a way to reverse this. I’d much rather be filled with pain than be powerless to stop Her from hurting you. Good luck. I love you. I’m sorry.

Love, Polo

[chelsfic]

Chapter 6/18 - Safety - Bucky Barnes x OC Soulmate AU

Masterlist

Summary: Soulmate AU! Bucky/OC. Our soulmarks appear at the moment of our soulmate’s birth. The Asset’s mark appears in the Spring of 1987. The words imprinted into the skin of his forearm. “Please! Don’t hurt me…”

A/N: I wrote this fic over the course of 2017-2018 and it was originally published on AO3. Recently, I decided to do some light revisions in order to fix inconsistencies in the POV, some awkward diction and typos. Please note–I’m aware that a lot of people love this fic just as it is. This is not a rewrite, I won’t be changing major plot points and I’m purposely leaving most of the writing alone. Just sprucing it up. Since I wrote this before I started posting fic to Tumblr, I decided to take the opportunity of posting the revised chapters here as I edit them. If you got to the end of this A/N: thank you!!!

Warnings: Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Eventual happy ending

---

The windows of the (clearly stolen) SUV were tinted almost totally black. There was no hope that anyone in a passing car would be able to discern Sophie through the window--so that avenue of seeking help was cut off. Even if she was daring enough to attempt a tuck and roll in the middle of a highway she couldn’t. He’d tied her wrists together with a nylon cord and roped them to the headrest in front of her. This not only impeded her from unbuckling her seat belt and opening the door, it also meant that she couldn’t lean back in her seat or lower her arms. So this was her state: arms numb and tingling, head aching from all the crying she’d done, body sore from her brief but intense struggle with the man, and the muscles of her lower back forming into one giant knot.

And she had to pee.

Awesome.

She squirmed in her seat for the millionth time in a vain attempt to seek comfort in an alternate position. She hadn’t spoken since he’d loaded her into the car almost an hour before, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She wiggled her hands through the gap at the bottom of the headrest so her fingers could nudge the back of his neck. Even now, she felt the tingle ripple through their soul bond when she touched his skin. This is so messed up.

“Hey, um, you. Man, I wish I knew your name... Maybe we could pick one?” he continued to glower stormily ahead, ignoring her chatter. His silence, like everything else about him, unnerved Sophie. “C-can we please stop soon? I have to use the bathroom.”

Maybe politeness was the way to go. If she couldn’t escape she was going to have to change his mind about whatever mission he was so hell bent on completing. She knew that he felt guilty about putting her through all this, she could feel it. So, he was conflicted but he didn’t think he could disobey orders from whoever was controlling him. Maybe she could work with this. They had a soulbond after all...she could really lay it on him and go for the guilt factor.

“Please! I’m hungry too. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

There it was. She felt the flair of guilt radiate through their bond. And something else. He was irritated with himself. Had he seriously forgotten about food?

“You have to feed me, you know. That’s, like, the care and keeping of soulmates 101. Food. And, you know, being nice to each other…”

He sighed quietly. “There’s a rest stop a few miles ahead. Will you make it?”

“Yes!” she squeaked hopefully. She returned to her quest for a more comfortable position, but left her fingers where they were, gently brushing the back of his neck. He hadn’t told her to move them after all. And even after all of this, physical contact with her soulmate felt...comforting.

---

The soldier had never considered what it would be like when he met his soulmate. He’d never had much time to consider anything outside his missions. He had the vaguest memory of the day they first discovered the mark. He’d felt...hope? It was the smallest spark but it was there, a seed planted within him all those years ago. Now she was here. But everything was wrong. He tried to think back to what he knew of soulmates and bonds. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, was it? She wasn’t meant to be another mission. She was different, special. He felt the strong desire to protect her and keep her safe. He longed to hold her close to him but the exigencies of the last twelve hours had not allowed it. And now he had her tied up in the back of a stolen vehicle on their way to a Hydra conditioning center. This was all wrong.

When she said she was hungry he hated himself for not thinking of it last night. He’d taken her from her home when she was clearly already exhausted, driven her out of the city against her will, yelled at her, demeaned her, been physical with her and handcuffed her to a bed. And he’d neglected to consider her most basic human needs.

They pulled into the parking lot of a busy highway rest stop. He parked the vehicle and turned in his seat, looking at her with hesitation clearly written on his face. She seemed to read his expression. Or maybe she felt it through their bond. He could certainly feel her. She sent him a wave of comforting assurance.

“I...I won’t try to get away or anything. You don’t have to worry about that.”

She looked profoundly sad having to say those words. And the soldier felt another stab of self hatred that he had made her feel that he was someone to be escaped. He gave a single nod, took out his dagger and sliced through the cord connecting her wrists to the head rest. She nearly moaned in relief as her aching arms finally fell downward. He reached around the seat and gently unwound the cable from her wrists, wincing as the reddened skin beneath was revealed. He took a moment to rub up and down her arms, stimulating blood flow. The act of touching her seemed to fire his nervous system and the strange, invisible bond between them thrummed inside his chest. He tried to ignore the sensation. The girl sat there, eyes wide as saucers, staring at him.

He felt awkward as he spoke, “We’ll go inside and get something to eat.”

She gave him the smallest most pitiful smile and it quickly fell from her lips. But still, it touched the cold depths of his heart.

***

Inside the lobby of the rest stop, Sophie stood awkwardly at the man’s side. It was designed sort of like a mall food court with a few different food stalls lining the wall, a convenience store in one corner and a large bathroom entrance tucked into another corner. She shifted back and forth on her feet a little. He noticed her discomfort and immediately stalked toward the restrooms, his hand gently grasping her elbow.

“I’ll wait right here,” he said, indicating the spot immediately outside the ladies room. She nodded and went inside. She could still feel the tumult of his emotions riding through the soulbond. It pained her to feel her soulmate so conflicted. But the pain was justified, after all. This was not how it was supposed to be. She shuffled into the ladies room and made her way to the nearest stall. The bathroom was huge and she didn’t have to wait, thank God.

When she was finished she stood at a long bank of sinks rinsing her hands and staring at herself in the mirror. She looked...not good. She stood there for several minutes, allowing the never-quite-warm-enough water of the tap to run over her hands as she stared ahead. Her mind was blank, as if it’d had enough frantic thinking for one day and had given up. She nearly screamed when a redhead, slightly taller than herself slid up behind her and spoke into her ear.

“Sophie, follow me quietly we’re leaving here. I’m taking you someplace safe, understand?”

She locked eyes with the woman in the mirror, clearly weighing her options. Sophie had no idea what she was caught up in and didn’t know for sure that she’d be able to differentiate between help or danger. But something in the woman’s crystalline green eyes conveyed her sincerity and she silently nodded, following her into a supply closet at the back of the bathroom she hadn’t even noticed. As they entered she realized it wasn’t a closet at all, but a service corridor with an exit to the outside. The woman slunk ahead of her, cracked the exit door open and motioned to someone outside. Before she knew what was happening the woman was gone and she was being ushered into yet another nondescript vehicle by a couple of stoic looking men in dark suits. They shut the door behind her and she was alone. The A/C in the car blasted and she shivered against the cool leather upholstery.

About half a minute after they’d stuck her in the car she heard distant shouts and pops like fireworks...or guns. Then she felt the sickening tug on her soulbond. He was in pain, and panicked. She sensed his worry for her and his fear and confusion. She threw open the car door and burst forward, fully intending to find him and make sure he was okay. The men in suits immediately grabbed her and refused to allow her to leave.

“Let me go, please!” she shouted. “He needs me! He’s hurt!”

“Calm down, miss. Barnes will be just fine. Orders are to capture not kill.” She realized this dumb dumb had meant to comfort her, but the words capture and kill weren’t really doing it.

She growled furiously and struggled against them but they wouldn’t budge. She could still feel the man’s fear pulsing into her. In desperation she tried to comfort him, sending him waves of affection and peace. But if they got through to him she couldn’t tell.

She heard a tinny voice coming over a radio, “Suspect in custody. Is Ms. Reynolds accounted for?”

One of the men pulled a walkie talkie from his hip and responded, “We have her, Sir.”

“Alright, everyone proceed to SHIELD HQ, we’ll be right behind you.”

Sophie didn’t have time to consider what was happening as the men herded her back into the freezing cold car. She could only ponder the sudden quiet that had come over her bond mate.

tagged: @watsonwise​

[mercurysnitch]

Mother Mercury, Part 2: If I Could Only Reach You…

Summary: Questions about Mel’s true identity swirl amongst the main cast, but her mother’s visit to the set may bring some of the answers they’re seeking.

Author’s note: It’s back, bitches! 😂 I know this part’s taken a while, but I’ve had my massive final semester group project due, and exams, and a life, so I’ve had a bit going on lately. I’m on holidays right now, but I’m starting a work placement next week so I’m not sure when Part 3 will be done. I am home alone at the moment, so hopefully it’ll be soon, but I’m not making any promises. At this point it’s looking like it’ll be 4 parts plus an epilogue, but that might change depending on how the story develops. During this part you may notice I’m not big on slow-burn romance (or tension, frankly), but that doesn’t mean there’s not lots more plot still to come.

As I said in the previous part, this story is built around the idea that Freddie Mercury accidentally fathered a lovechild during a drug-fuelled party in the late 70s. If you’re not comfortable with that notion that’s absolutely fine, but I suggest you stop reading now. I know I said the whole lovechild situation would be explained in this part, but I’ve rearranged the plot slightly since then, so that section will be in the next part. In any case, Freddie is still very much gay in this story, it’s just that things also happened while he was under the influence which resulted in a lovechild.  Remember this is fiction, and that particular element basically just needs to happen for the rest of the plot to work. 

This was supposed to be written from Mel’s perspective, but it ended up going in a different direction as this part unfolded. I’m still trying to write it mostly from Mel’s point of view, but the pov character will shift when required. Hopefully it’s not too confusing - there are a lot of pov changes in this part, but there should be less from hereon in (I hope 🤣)

PS: Thanks for all the lovely messages about part 1. Feel free to send me an ask or DM any time, and don’t hesitate to ask if you want to be tagged.

Warnings: Writing about real people, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of teen pregnancy, mentions of labour, multiple perspective switches, I’ve probably missed a few typos so please forgive that 

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

Rami's head was full of  questions the next morning. Could Freddie really have had a secret lovechild? Could that lovechild really have grown up to be Mel's parent? It seemed almost too good to be true for Freddie's grandchild to end up working on his biopic, Rami thought uneasily. Then again, that would only be possible if he had indeed fathered a lovechild in the first place. That was the key question that needed answering, Rami realised. But how to answer it? Mel might be the best source, but he could hardly go and ask her about her family history out of the blue. And she might not know herself, depending on the circumstances. Hell, Freddie’s child might not even know the truth about their origins. No, asking Mel was definitely not an option. But if not her, then who? Who else might have answers?

Rami supposed Brian and Roger might know something, or quite possibly everything. But he didn’t think it would be appropriate for him to ask them about it. More to the point, they might not want to tell him even if they did know the full story. Perhaps direct questions wasn’t the best approach here, Rami mused. Maybe it would be better to start with Mel and work backwards. But who other than Mel would know about her family? Ben was quite clearly the closest to her, Rami realised. Might as well start with him then.

Ben was suspicious as soon as he saw Rami in makeup that morning. There was a look in his friend's eye that Ben was quite sure meant he was up to something. Exactly what that was became clear when they found themselves alone together between takes. "Uhh, Ben?" Rami began, not wanting to rush in to what could be a delicate subject. Here it comes, Ben thought. Outwardly, he smiled reassuringly. "Yeah?" "You and Mel, you're… close, right?" Rami's question mostly confused Ben. "Um, not… not really" Ben replied hesitantly. "We hang out a bit on set, but it's not really any more than that." Rami seemed surprised at Ben's response. "Really?" he questioned. "Why would I lie about that?" Ben said crossly. "I didn't say that!" Rami backtracked. "I just meant, you and Mel seemed so cosy together yesterday, I thought you must be hanging out without us" he explained. Ben glared at him suspiciously. "You've seen us together all of once, Rami." "I know" Rami replied evenly. "But Lucy agrees with me, and she's seen Mel a lot more than I have." Ben sighed. "Look, I do like her, but- wait, why are you even asking that?"

Rami smiled nervously. "I was wondering if she'd told you anything about her family, but I guess not." Ben raised an eyebrow. "I think she still lives with her mum, but that's about it. Why?" he asked suspiciously. "I did some digging in my research last night. About Freddie" Rami explained. "And?" Ben asked, not sure where his friend was going with this. "I found out something… intriguing." "Yes?" Ben urged, suddenly intrigued himself. "Turns out there used to be rumours that Freddie had a lovechild back in the day" Rami said casually. Ben was shocked. "What?" "Keep your voice down!" Rami hissed.  

"Wait, what does this have to do with Mel?" Ben questioned. "I think that could be how she's related to Freddie" Rami admitted. Ben was confused. "But she wasn't even born until years after he died." Rami shook his head. "I don't mean that she's his child" he clarified. "But the rumours seemed to agree that the alleged Mercury lovechild was born in about the late 70s or very early 80s, and Mel was born in… when was she born, Ben?" Ben looked thoughtful as he racked his brains. "Well, she's 21, so she would have been born in-" Ben went quiet while he did the maths. "-1996" he finally declared. Rami smiled. "So if the lovechild was born by, say, 1981," he explained, "in 1996 that child would have been old enough to have a child themselves." Ben wasn't convinced. "They would have only been a teenager though." "Teenagers do have kids sometimes, Ben" Rami reminded him. "I guess" Ben conceded. Suddenly he realised Rami's overarching point. "So are you saying you think Mel is Freddie Mercury's granddaughter?" he gasped. Rami nodded. "But don't tell anyone. Right now there's no way of being sure he even had a lovechild, let alone a grandchild." Ben smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I won't say anything." He paused, shaking his head. "Christ, that's massive though. If it’s true I mean." "It's huge" Rami agreed. "I only hope it's not too big to be true."

Ben found himself gripped with excitement after hearing Rami's theory about Mel's background. If Rami was right, he could have stumbled on one of the biggest secrets in Queen history, hiding in plain sight on the set of Freddie's movie. Of course he could very well be completely wrong, but even so Ben couldn't shake the feeling Mel's resemblance to Freddie was more than just a weird coincidence. Ben was itching to ask Mel about it, but at the same time he didn't want to put her off by trying to be too close too soon. No, he thought, a bit of patience would be needed here. Perhaps if he took her on a date they could get talking and… no, stop it, Ben thought to himself, she might not even like you in that way. But what if she does? suggested a small voice in his head. Ben had to admit the thought was rather intoxicating, but some more skeptical part of him refused to be convinced it was a real possibility.

Ben found himself horribly distracted by the various conflicting thoughts whirring through his head. So much so that he nearly walked into the very girl he’d been brooding over on his way to lunch. “Oh, shit, sorry Mel, didn’t see you there.” Luckily she wasn’t angry at him. “I was wondering how long you’d take to notice me waving” she laughed. “Clearly there’s something on your mind today.” Yeah, Ben thought,  you. But he didn’t say it. He couldn’t. All he said was, “Yeah,  been busy with lines today.” Mel seemed unconvinced, but said nothing. “Anyway,” Ben hurried on, “you headed for lunch?” “Actually, I came to tell you Brian May’s coming to set this afternoon” Mel commented. Suddenly she broke into a cheeky grin. “But I might grab some lunch too, while I’m here.” Ben smiled, internally relieved he hadn’t completely blown his chance with Mel just yet.  “Might as well eat together then” he said coolly.

Lunch was spent with the rest of the band, as they’d taken to calling themselves. Even Allen and Lucy were there for a change. Joe was bouncy as ever, and all in all they were a merry bunch. But Ben felt a small knot of guilt in his stomach when he realised the others hadn’t yet heard about Rami’s new theory on Mel’s origins. Gwilym would never hold it against either of them, Ben knew, but he thought Joe was unlikely to appreciate being left out. Fortunately, Joe was soon distracted by Mel's recounting of her near-collision with Ben that morning. "Jesus, Ben, are you as blind as Roger too?" Joe quipped, when he'd finished falling about laughing. "I didn't know you were that method-"“Oh, come off it” Ben grumbled, not appreciating the joke.

Fortunately Ben was saved from further teasing by the approach of a very familiar grey-haired figure. Brian smiled as he reached the table. “Hello boys! Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to check in while you weren’t busy” he explained. "It's quite alright" Gwilym reassured him, setting off a chorus of agreeing noises from the rest of the table. Brian looked relieved. "Oh good. I must say, it's a bit odd seeing you all in costume together, it's almost like looking into some kind of time warp" he commented, looking around the table at them all. His face suddenly grew puzzled when he reached Ben. Ben was momentarily confused until he realised Mel was sitting next to him. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot you haven't been introduced" he gabbled apologetically. "Brian, this is Mel, one of the wardrobe assistants. Mel, th-" "I know who he is" Mel cut him off, smiling shyly. "Lovely to meet you" Brian responded, shaking Mel's hand across the table. She smiled up at him as she returned the handshake, and Brian had to suppress a gasp when he finally got a good look at her face.

Somehow Brian continued with the conversation he'd been planning while internally, he was absolutely reeling. The girl in front of him bore an absolutely stunning resemblance to Freddie. Far too much for it to be a coincidence, Brian thought. But what was the connection? How could she be related to him? Unless she was… But she had to be too young, surely. Freddie's child would be nearly forty by now, but Mel looked like she was barely more than a teenager, fresh out of uni, perhaps. 

Brian was shaken from his reverie by a sudden commotion at the table. Rami and Lucy were needed on set, apparently, and Mel wanted to get back to work before she ran over her allotted break time. The others had finished their lunch and decided they might as well decamp to Gwilym's trailer until they were needed for filming again later. A sudden idea popped into Brian's head as Mel left the table. "I, erm, need to go and talk to someone for a minute" he said hurriedly, standing up from the table. "I'll come and find you in the trailer later, if that's alright?" Gwilym smiled. "Of course, Brian." Brian flashed him a relieved smile before heading off after Mel.

"Mel, wait!" Brian called, hoping desperately he wouldn't attract too much attention. Mel turned around looking curious. "You want to talk to me?" she asked, surprised. Brian nodded as he caught up to her. "Yes. Has anyone ever told you you could be Freddie's spitting image?" Mel smiled. "On this set, many people" she told Brian. "But it means a lot to hear it from you" she added softly. "Ah, Mel…” Brian began, suddenly uncertain. “I don’t want to seem intrusive, but how old are you?” “21” Mel replied  casually. Definitely too young to be Fred's girl, then.

Brian was suddenly desperate to find out more, to get to the bottom of the mystery, but another part of him was rather nervous. Should he even be asking someone he’d just met something like this? “Is my age important or something?” Mel asked, cutting off his hemming and hawing. That gave Brian the push he needed to forge ahead. “Mel, if you don’t my me asking, is there any chance you could be related to Freddie, do you know?" He sounded almost apologetic as he posed the question. "The similarities… it seems too much to be a coincidence” he explained. 

Melina was taken aback by Brian’s forwardness, but she recovered quickly. “Uh, very probably, we're not absolutely sure." Brian wasn't quite following. "Who's not sure?" "My mum. And my grandmother, I suppose" she explained. Brian was still confused. "What's your grandmother got to do with it?" "Look, I think you'd be better off talking to my mum" Mel sighed. "Would she want to talk to me though?" Brian asked, mildly concerned. He wanted answers, but he wouldn't blame Mel's mum for not wanting to talk to a virtual stranger about something so personal. Mel herself simply shrugged. "She might. It's worth a shot. I think she should, anyway, it's… it's been long enough." Brian found the last comment rather mysterious, but he thought it best not to ask about it just then. Instead, he smiled kindly. “Alright then, when might she be available for a meet’n’greet?” Melina grinned. “She’s coming to visit me here tomorrow.”

*** The band stared after Brian in stunned silence, before bursting into excitable chatter that continued all the way to Gwilym's trailer. "What was that about?" Joe started, utterly confused. "I… don't know" Gwilym mused. Ben felt rather guilty; he had a hunch he knew what Brian was up to, but he wasn't sure if he should share Rami's theory with the others. "I, um, might have an idea" he said sheepishly. "I think he might have wanted to talk to Mel." Strangely, this seemed to make perfect sense to both Gwilym and Joe. "You think he might have thought the same thing as Rami, then?" Gwilym asked. "You know about Rami's theory?" Ben asked, only mildly surprised. "I don't" Allen piped up. There was a pause as Joe explained it to him. Suddenly Allen smirked at Ben. "So Ben fancies Freddie Mercury's granddaughter?" "Quiet!" Gwilym hissed. "We don't want the whole bloody set hearing." Meanwhile, Ben's jaw dropped. "Shit" he muttered. He'd never thought of it like that. What had he gotten himself into?   

*** The next morning Mel was hard at work on some urgent mending when she heard a soft knock on the door of the wardrobe truck . “Come in” she called. “Mel, you’ve got a visitor” Joe told her softly, trying to open the door quietly. She looked around. “Mum! You’re here!” Her mother rushed over to embrace her. “Hello darling!” “I see you’ve met Joe already” Mel commented as they broke apart. “Is he the one playing Deacy?" her mother asked. Mel nearly snorted. "Who else d'you think he'd be playing?" Joe was both surprised and rather flattered. "Do I really look that much like him out of costume?" he asked uncertainly. Mel and her mum both looked at him with bemusement, but surprisingly it was the older woman who answered. "Yes” she said bluntly. “If you looked any more like him I'd be asking serious questions about your parentage." Joe laughed, and Mel's mother looked at him quizzically. "What?" "I thought the same thing the first time I saw a photo of him" Joe explained. "I like him" Mel's mother whispered to her conspiratorially. Mel just shook her head. "Alright, Mum. Now come on, I’ve got so much to show you.”

*** Brian made extra sure he and Roger were both on set that day. He had many questions, and he imagined Mel’s mother might too. They finally got an opportunity to talk over lunch. Mel came bounding over to join them in the queue for food. “Brian, Roger, this is my mum Eve” she introduced. Both men looked at Eve curiously. Her hair was chestnut brown rather than jet black, and her eyes were lighter, almost hazel, but the shape and the warmth they exuded were all Freddie. She wasn’t the precise image of their friend, her jawline was less angular for a start, but the resemblance was clear nonetheless.

Roger suddenly realised hers was a face he’d seen before. It was a long time ago, when she was much younger, but the eyes were unmistakable. “Evangeline?” he gasped. She nodded. “I can't believe you recognise me, it’s been a very long time.” Roger smiled. “Maybe too long. You were just a kid then, now here you are with a grown up daughter of your own.” “So Mel is yours” Brian said wonderingly. “But that would mean…” Eve suddenly smiled nervously. “Yeah, I was a teenager.” Roger was shocked. “You were-? That must have been hard.” Eve’s smile vanished alarmingly quickly in the wake of his statement. “I don't need your 'sympathy' ” she growled. “It wasn’t easy, but I chose to do it. I wasn’t a victim.” Roger and Brian broke into identical bemused smiles at that. “Doesn’t she sound just like Fred?” Roger murmured. “Practically identical” Brian agreed.

“Incidentally, you’ve raised a good kid” Brian commented to Eve. Mel, who'd been watching on in quiet amusement, beamed at the compliment. Eve smiled too, her anger quickly forgotten. "Thanks, Brian." "She looks like her grandad too" Roger commented. "Even more than you do, strangely." "Does she really?" Eve questioned, rather surprised. Roger smiled. “Love, your daughter looks so much like Fred she could practically be his twin. Have you really never noticed the resemblance?” "Mum always said I look a lot like my dad" Mel chimed in. “He’s Greek” Eve explained. “Olive-skinned, black hair. I always assumed she just took after his family looks-wise. He chose her name too, actually.” Brian raised an eyebrow curiously. “Now you mention it, what is her full name? We only know her as Mel.” "It's short for Melina" Mel piped up. Brian smiled wonderingly, but Roger nearly gasped. "Melina? Freddie's granddaughter's called Melina?" "Coincidence" Eve clarified. "I'd forgotten Papa's connection to that name by the time I had her." She paused, smiling slightly. "But as soon as her dad suggested it I just knew it was her name. It just suited her perfectly." Brian and Roger agreed, it definitely did.

"So what do you do with yourself these days, Eve?" Roger asked casually, hoping to ease the slight awkwardness in the air. "I'm an illustrator" she replied. "Mostly kids books, but I enjoy it." Roger couldn't help looking at Brian then, knowing they were both thinking the same thing without needing to say a word. "So you got to uni then?" Brian asked conversationally. Eve nodded. "I did. Well, to art college. Not Ealing though." "Shame" Roger murmured. "That's a fair achievement you know, getting through school and uni while raising a small child" Brian commented. "Oh, I had lots of help" Eve explained modestly. "There must have been times, though, when you felt scared or alone" Roger suggested. Eve nodded. "There were" she agreed. "But Papa was with me."

1996 Eve was troubled. Not surprising, really, considering she was facing the biggest decision of her young life. The decision itself was not actually troubling her particularly, strangely. She knew what she wanted to do, but what worried her was what people would think. Would keeping her baby really ruin her life? Was doing what she wanted really the right thing for either of them? These questions haunted her as she tried to get to sleep.

Sleep, unsurprisingly, took its time to descend that night. When it finally did, Eve had unsettled dreams, the sort where she thought she was still awake half the time. She woke more than once, jolted by restless visions. It was after one of these wakings, when she wasn't sure if she was still dreaming or wide awake, that she saw him.

He was standing at the end of her bed, all dressed in a shining white material that seemed to glow around him. He had long black hair and dark, friendly eyes. Eve didn't know who he was at first, but she felt like she'd known him forever somehow. He smiled gently as he walked around to sit on the end of her bed, and suddenly she recognised him. "Papa?" Eve gasped. "But… how? Why?" Freddie smiled mysteriously. "I heard your call, darling, so I came." Eve was confused. "What call?" she asked suspiciously. "It doesn't matter, I'm here now" Freddie said airily. "Now, tell me your troubles, darling." Eve was uncertain. "Why should I tell you?" "I could help" Freddie said evenly. Eve snorted. "I doubt that." Freddie just smiled wryly. "You won't know if you don't try, dear. Tell me everything." For some reason Eve did. Oh well, she thought, can't hurt to vent to a ghost. Freddie, who now she thought of it looked younger than she'd ever seen him in life, simply smiled and nodded as she explained just what her troubles actually were.

"You want to keep it" Freddie said, almost as soon as Eve stopped speaking. It wasn't even a question; somehow he knew what his daughter was thinking. "I do" she agreed. "But…" She took a breath. "I'm scared. What if it ruins my life like everyone says? What if I'm a terrible mum? What if I never actually get my shit together and they end up hating me for cocking everything up?" The words almost fell out of her mouth in a sort of panicked jumble. Freddie's expression softened at her obvious fear. "They won't hate you, darling, you're their mother" he reassured you. "And it won't ruin your life if you don't let it." Eve stared at him, confused. "So, I should just go ahead and assume everything'll be fine?" He shook his head. "Don't assume. Make the effort to get things to work for you. Get angry if you have to. Make sure you can still live the life you want, even with the bumps in the road." Eve was suddenly crestfallen. "But everyone says…" Freddie grinned. "Fuck what they say. Don't forget, you're not most people. Making the choice you want won't derail everything, the journey will just be… different." Hope bloomed in Eve's chest at his words. Maybe things wouldn't be as awful as everyone said. "It will be alright, darling" Freddie assured her.

It seemed as though Eve only looked away for half a second, but when she looked back he was gone. The next morning Eve woke up feeling peaceful. She was filled with resolve. She knew, now, what her decision would be, and she'd never felt more sure of anything in her life. Talking to her late Papa must have been a dream, a figment of her imagination. But how could a mere dream give her so much reassurance, so much certainty? He must have been, though. He couldn't be anything else. Surely not.

Of course, making the decision was only half the battle. There were still many people to be told. Nikos was surprisingly pleased at the prospect of teen fatherhood, though his parents were a lot less enthusiastic, much as Eve had expected. They'd never particularly liked her, and now they were sure to hate her forever for "ruining" their precious son's life. Eve's own mother wasn't exactly thrilled, but she promised to stick by her daughter regardless. And then there was Uncle Deaky and Aunt Veronica. Strangely, Eve didn't actually have to say anything to them initially. 

It took one look over afternoon tea for Aunt Vee to guess what was going on. "You're not pregnant, are you?" she asked quietly, sounding as though she didn’t want to believe her own theory. Eve's eyes went wide. "How did you know?" she gaped. "I've had six children, dear, I know the signs” Aunt Veronica pointed out. She softened considerably when she realised just how frightened Eve was, despite being absolutely certain about her choice. 

Uncle Deaky was also surprisingly calm when Eve finally told him about her situation, and what she’d decided. He almost immediately pulled her into a hug when he realised she was about to cry. “It’s alright, love, I’m not cross at you” he reassured her. Eve was surprised. “You’re not?” Uncle Deaky smiled. “No. I mean, I’m not jumping for joy, but it’s not the end of the world either.” Eve smiled. “Besides,” he added softly, “I was in your shoes once. Well, we weren’t exactly teenagers, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t scared when we found out Robert was on his way.” “You were scared?” Eve asked, incredulous. “Of course.” Deaky smiled. “Knowing it’s what you want doesn’t mean it's not also terrifying.” Eve found that statement oddly reassuring. And she was very glad when Uncle Deaky reassured her he and Veronica would support her every step of the way. Though when she thought about it, she wasn’t that surprised at this reaction.

Over the following months Eve sometimes felt the oddest sensation while she was alone. It was as if someone was standing near her, someone she couldn't see. She wondered whether it was her papa looking out for her. She found the thought rather comforting, really. But she was never more grateful for it than the day her daughter was born. 

Eve had been home alone when she'd first realised she was going into labour, more than a week early, and she didn't think she'd ever been so scared in her life. She couldn't reach her mum, or Auntie Vee, who'd promised to stay with her at the hospital, and she knew calling Nikos wouldn't help, even if she was having his bloody child. She couldn't even get an answer at the Deacon house. Presumably they were all out enjoying the summer holidays somewhere. Eve was starting to feel very scared and very alone when Jim suddenly turned up at her door.

She wasn't expecting him, but his presence was very much welcome. He'd been visiting her in London as much as he could while she was pregnant. She'd expected him to be angry when she broke the big news, all those months ago, but Jim was only mildly shocked. "You're hardly the first person to be a teenage parent, love" he told her. "You're not the first I've known, either. Doesn't mean I'm happy about this, but you're still my Evie. I'll always be here for you, you know." And he'd proved it that fateful day.

"You have no idea how glad I am you're here" Eve quipped as she let Jim into Garden Lodge. "You know, I wasn't even planning to come today, but I had more spare time than I expected" he mused. Suddenly Eve groaned, and he turned around in alarm. "You alright, love?" "I'm in labour" she griped. "You're just in time to take me to the hospital." Eve relaxed as the pain passed. "Honestly, you couldn't have come at a better time" she said happily. Jim smiled gently. "Well then, Freddie must have sent me for you."

Jim sat with Eve at the hospital for a while, although he absolutely would not countenance staying for the main event. Both Nikos and Veronica had already agreed to be present to support her through that part, but they were taking their sweet time getting to the hospital. Jim agreed to stay for the time being, but eventually he needed a break, so he stepped out for a few minutes, leaving Eve all alone in her stark white room. 

And yet she didn't feel particularly alone. It was as though Freddie was standing in the room with her, somewhere just out of sight. Eve wasn't a paranormal enthusiast by any means, but she almost felt like if she turned her head she would see her beloved Papa next to her, cheering her on. The feeling disappeared as soon as Jim returned, with Veronica arriving soon after. But it returned several hours later, after her daughter had finally been born. Eve was sitting in the bed, cradling her newborn child, and she could have sworn Freddie was peering over her shoulder, admiring the new baby. It thrilled Eve to think her father might have visited her for this momentous occasion, and it brought her comfort to know he hadn't let her go through it alone.  

2017 Brian and Roger weren't the least bit surprised to hear that Eve had felt Freddie with her when she needed him most. But they were a little bit shocked that this was the first they were hearing about her teenage years. "I can't believe Deacy never told us Fred was a grandad" Roger said, still trying to process everything. "I'm sure he had his reasons" Brian said evenly. "I didn't want him to" Eve explained. "I didn't particularly want the world to know I was a teen mum." "We're hardly the world" Roger pointed out, slightly miffed. "I know" Eve conceded. "But he was hardly seeing you by then anyway, it was just easier not to say anything." She paused as something suddenly occurred to her. "Besides, you lot turning up at Garden Lodge again would have caused a sensation, and then all Papa's efforts to keep me secret would have been for nothing." "You're right, of course" Roger sighed. “I just wish we could have been there for you. We could have helped, you know.”

“You did help” Eve said softly. “You kept Queen going.” Roger was confused. “And how did that help you, exactly?” “It meant I kept getting royalties” Eve explained. “Not a vast fortune, of course, but enough to keep me going while I finished school and whatnot.” Roger smiled. "Well I'm glad to know we were able to do something for the two of you." "And I'm sure Deacy was a brilliant support to you" Brian chimed in. "He was" Eve agreed, nodding. "He and Veronica pretty much got me through my teens, really." 

At the mention of his old friend Roger looked thoughtful. “How is John these days?” Eve smiled rather sadly. “He’s… happy enough” she said slowly. “He still misses Freddie bitterly, but he likes the quiet life.” Roger and Brian both smiled in understanding, though they seemed a little wistful. “He was never much into the rockstar lifestyle” Brian commented.

Suddenly the warm atmosphere was shattered by Mel cursing. “Bugger. I’ve gotta get back, the band’s all wondering where I am.” “The band?” Eve questioned. “The young men playing us” Brian explained. “Some of the production staff referred to them that way and it sort of stuck.” Eve grinned. “Makes sense.” “Well, they could hardly call them Queen II could they?” Roger joked. 

“Actually,” he went on more seriously, “you should meet them, Eve. They’re nice lads, and I’m sure they’d enjoy hearing your perspective on a few things…” “Rami and Joe in particular would be very appreciative, I think” Brian added. “Why-” Eve started to ask, but Mel cut her off. “They can’t talk directly to the people they’re playing” she pointed out. “Oh, of course” Eve murmured. “I’m not sure, I wouldn’t want to expose myself to the world” she demurred. “You wouldn’t” Mel countered. “They’d never sell anyone out like that.” Eve hesitated. “Your daughter’s quite right, they’re perfectly trustworthy” Brian assured her. “At least talk to Rami, he’d be absolutely thrilled to speak with you” he urged. Suddenly Eve smiled. “Well alright then.” With a cheeky grin she turned to her daughter. “Take me to the band!” she jokingly ordered. Roger and Brian laughed almost as much as Mel, finally revelling in the joy of the day’s unexpected reunion.

Luckily, the band were still eating lunch together, so locating them all was a simple matter of finding their table in the catering tent. Mel eagerly led her mother towards them, Brian and Roger having quietly wandered off along the way, ostensibly to have a chat with the producers. Eve was almost as eager as her daughter, curious to see what the men Mel spoke so highly of were really like. They were in early 70s garb today, all long hair and flared pants. Eve was rather grateful that Rami wasn’t wearing the moustache; she wasn’t sure how she would have reacted to seeing him dressed as the Freddie she'd known. As it was she thought they all looked equally wonderful in today’s costumes.

Mel couldn’t help smiling when she caught Ben’s eye.  She could have sworn he smiled back, but it was Joe who spoke first. “Mel! Where’ve you been, Ben’s been worried sick all lunch break” he asked dramatically. “Oh, shut up” Ben grumbled, shoving his shoulder crossly. Mel just rolled her eyes affectionately. “I’ve been showing my mum round, you knew I’d be busy today.” “Your mum?” Gwilym questioned. “Yes” Mel replied simply. “Guys, this is my mum Eve.” Polite hellos were duly exchanged across the table, though Eve could feel genuine warmth behind them. Even Lucy, half draped across Rami’s lap, was obviously pleased to meet a relative of Mel. 

The group chattered amiably while they finished their lunch, but before long the band and Lucy were needed back on set. Mel expected them Rami to lead them all back to work, but surprisingly he hung back, telling the others he’d meet them at the set. They apparently accepted this without question, though Mel was quite sure they’d be discussing it at length before they got back to work. When the rest of the band were safely out of earshot, Rami turned to Eve. “Has anyone ever told you that you and your daughter both look like Freddie Mercury?”

Eve smiled. “I know Mel’s been hearing that a lot lately,” she said knowingly. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s said that to me.” Rami peered at her curiously. “Do you… do you have any idea where that resemblance might have come from?” Mel could feel the tension rise at Rami’s blunt question, but to her immense relief her mother seemed untroubled. “Well,” Eve said, grinning mischievously, “I expect it’s the family resemblance.” Rami stared at her, brows furrowed in confusion, until realisation suddenly dawned across his face. “Wait, are you saying-” “I can explain, but I’d rather do it in private” Eve explained, cutting Rami off before he could accidentally reveal her great secret. To her immense relief he quickly flashed her an understanding smile. “I have to go to work now, but come to my trailer later. Mel knows where it is.” He smiled again, and with a quick ‘nice to meet you’ he hurried off back to set.

Mel turned to her mother expectantly. “Well?” “He seems nice” Eve commented. “Actually they all seem like nice lads, I can see why you like them so much.” She paused thoughtfully. “I think I can see why they wanted him to play Freddie, too.” Mel smiled with relief. “So you’ll help him?” “As much as I can” Eve agreed. “Perhaps you could help Joe too” Mel suggested. Eve smiled. “I suppose I could.”

Mel found herself facing a busy afternoon, so she sent her mum to watch the filming while she worked. It soon became clear that none of the band was going to get much downtime until shooting finished for the day, so between takes Rami organised to meet Eve just before he went home for the night. The filming went on for hours, but finally the director called cut and everyone started to pack up. Amongst all the activity Eve managed to slip away unnoticed, to a deserted corner near Rami’s trailer where they were unlikely to be seen.

Rami grinned mischievously when he spotted Eve behind his trailer. “So, about that family resemblance…” Eve took a breath. “I meant that sincerely you know” she said casually. “The truth is, as far as anyone knows Freddie Mercury was my biological father.” Rami raised an eyebrow. “As far as anyone knows?” “He’s not the only, ah, candidate, but I’ve never actually had a DNA test” Eve explained. Rami snorted. “You don’t need one.” He paused, suddenly looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Sorry if this is a bit forward of me, but I’d love to talk to you about Freddie, somewhere a little more private” he said warmly. “So I was thinking we could get dinner at my hotel?” “What, now?” Eve questioned. Rami nodded. “If that’s alright with you.” Eve was hesitant. “Just checking: this isn’t a romantic invitation is it?” Rami shook his head. “God, no!” he burst out, almost too quickly. “Sorry, I just meant I’m kind of not… available in that way.” Eve smiled. “It’s fine” she reassured him. “If it was I would have had to turn it down seeing as I’m a married woman.” Rami grinned with relief. “Well, in that case, shall we?” Eve smiled. “Just let me ring home on the way and I’m all yours.” With that, they trotted off along a less conspicuous route to Rami’s chaffeured car, chatting amiably along the way.

Ben had almost reached his trailer when he spotted Mel lounging against it. He smiled at the sight, but his expression shifted into a frown when he noticed Rami and Eve wandering off together looking very friendly. Possibly too friendly. Mel made to smile at Ben, only to be confused when she noticed him frowning. She turned away just in time to spot Rami walking with her mum. She thought he looked rather excited. Mum must have told him, Mel mused. In which case they must be off for a long conversation about Papa. Mel’s contentment at this development turned to concern when she realised Ben was storming towards her looking less than pleased.  

Ben seemed fairly calm when he hauled Mel into his trailer, but when he turned back to her after carefully locking the door she could see the anger on his face. "What the hell is going on?" he fumed. "With what?" Mel responded calmly, not quite sure where all this was coming from. "I just came across Rami looking very cosy with your mum" Ben growled. “Almost suspiciously cosy.” Mel sighed. "It's not like that, Ben, she’s married for God’s sake." Ben was not particularly soothed. "Well then what is it like?" he snapped. "Cos from where I'm standing it doesn't look good." "Oh my God, Ben, why do you even care so much?" Mel snapped back. "Because he's my friend!" Ben yelled. "And Lucy's my friend, and…" His voice trailed off as he realised something. "What?" Mel questioned, confused by the sudden change of mood. "I like you" Ben admitted. "I like you a lot, and I don't want to think you would allow something like that, but…" "Of course I wouldn't, Ben, I'm not an arsehole" Mel responded, hoping to reassure him. It didn't work. Ben was still cross, and now he was confused as well. "Why didn’t you stop it, then?" "Because she’s helping him!" Mel cried. "Helping him?" Ben questioned, even more confused. "How can she help him?"

Mel sighed. She'd really done it now. There was no way out of this conversation without letting Ben in on the family secret. "Alright Ben" she said eventually, suddenly much quieter and calmer. "I'm going to tell you something, so you'll understand. But you have to promise me, what I'm about to say does not leave this trailer." Ben smiled reassuringly. "I won't tell another soul, I promise." Mel took a calming breath. Here goes nothing. "My mum can help Rami with this role because she's Freddie Mercury's daughter" she confessed.

Ben was stunned. "She's…what?" he spluttered. Mel smiled reassuringly. "It's big, I know." Suddenly Ben stared at Mel wide-eyed. "So it's all true then…" Mel was confused. "What's true?" "The rumours about Freddie. That he had a lovechild." Ben explained. "How did you hear those?" Mel questioned. "Rami" Ben said simply. "He saw you, remembered the rumours, and guessed you must be Freddie's grandchild." Mel was stunned. "Shit. He worked it all out." Ben grinned. "God, he's going to be so pleased with himself tomorrow."

Suddenly Ben reached out and pulled Mel into his chest. She wondered whether he was trying to ground himself after all the big revelations. Not that she minded, of course, it was Ben after all. 

"Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the truth" he murmured into her ear. "Of course" Mel murmured back. They stood silently for a moment, thinking over everything that had just been said. "Can't believe you got so worked up about my mum" Mel commented. Ben smiled sheepishly. "Sorry." "Can't believe you thought her and Rami…" Mel trailed off as something else Ben had said suddenly hit her like a truck. "Wait. Did you say you liked me?" she asked, stepping back to look at Ben's face. 

Ben's gentle smile disappeared instantly. "Shit. I thought you didn't notice." "So did you mean you like me as a friend or…?" Mel asked curiously, her heart suddenly hammering at the possibilities. Ben could feel his own heart race as he opened his mouth. "Well I do consider you a friend. But… I'd really like us to be more than that" he confessed. Mel smiled as she moved closer to Ben. "I'd like that too." Ben could have wept with relief. "So, do you want to get dinner tonight?" he asked, beaming.  "I'd love to" Mel beamed back. Ben grinned. “Great! I’ll just grab my shit and then we can go.” True to his word, within five minutes he and Mel were walking towards the studio car park hand in hand.

***

Less than an hour later, Rami was sat at a table in the hotel restaurant, buzzing with excitement. Freddie Mercury's biological child was sitting in front of him! What a day. Eve smiled with amusement as his obvious enthusiasm. "So I suppose you have a few questions you'd like to ask?" Rami grinned. "Oh, hundreds." "Well, go on then" Eve encouraged. "I guess the biggest one is this" Rami said thoughtfully. "How exactly did a man like Freddie Mercury manage to father a lovechild anyway?"

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Taglist: @wandering-at-midnight @fruityfreddie @trumanjo @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @itsametaphorbriansblog @theedwardscollection @simplyvictoria-93 @kotoamor @j1224  @florenceivy @jennyggggrrr @mercurycrowley @xstrawverrymilktaex 

(I’ve removed a couple of urls from the Though You’re Many Years Away taglist because the tags aren’t working)

[harmoniouspixels]

Nina Sykes’s Interview

Let’s finally sit her down for this, shall we? Chances are this will not have been closely proofread, so typos and mistakes may be present. Feel free to ask anything about them to clarify! CC: @toxoplasmajuice​

[The In-Character Portion (questions written by Clyde Atkins himself):]

Tell me a little about yourself. Y'know, name, pronouns, age, where you’re from, anything else you might say if I asked you, “Who are you?”

Hiya! The name’s Nina. I’m 19, from a small town named Arcadia Peaks, and I’m currently, er, was studying to become an astronaut. I was also going to run for one of the officer positions at my sorority! I’ll miss those gals.

Before the world ended, did you have any long-term goals? Where would you picture yourself in the future if the future didn’t crumble in front of our eyes?

Like I said, I was looking to become an astronaut! Dabbled with a communication minor before deciding to major in biology and minor in astronomy. Would’ve eventually gotten my masters and prepared for the incredibly rigorous tests you have to go through to become an astronaut.

Any talents or skills? What about hobbies?

[Laughs] does my athleticism count? I’ve been training for so long I can lift about anything, and I hold several track-and-field records. I also love to read, if that counts as a hobby! Same goes for table-top games and going for a run or walk.

If you feel like sharing, what was your love life like before this? Totally fine if you don’t wanna talk about it.

I’d say it was good! I had a boyfriend in high school, but we broke it off after we realized that our lives were heading in different directions. I also dated this lovely woman in my first year of uni. We were the same age, were paired up at orientation, she had gorgeous red hair and was just fun to be around. We broke up at the end of the semester because both of us weren’t feeling the best about continuing the relationship when it felt like there wasn’t a spark.

Besides the sanctuary part, what made you sign up for this BC?

Clyde, duh! He’s cute. Plus with my uni ex, we used to watch BCs all the time. Sure, they can be cheesy, but they look like a lot of fun.

Okay, okay, hot take: this question is fucking stupid. First of all, MMBCs have happened even with this question, so it’s not even protecting anybody. Second, if we really needed this information–or if the network did–there’s better ways to do background checks. You can just lie here. You can literally just lie. Third, it’s just so vague. Sure, if you’ve got some degree of murder on your record, maybe that would be important, but–what, being caught with a gram of weed in the summer of ‘15 is supposed to tell me you might be a murderer? And, most importantly, it blatantly contributes to the stigma against felons. Non-violent criminals, people who’ve changed for the better, people who were falsely accused–we’re basically saying all of them might as well be murderers. And I’m not for that. But the program we’re doing this through is requiring that I ask, so, whatever: do you have a criminal record?

Nope! I don’t have one.

Anyway. Random fact about you?

I DJ a bit on the side! It’s a lot of fun, even though I’m still learning it.

Is there anything important I should know about you? Health-related stuff, ancient curses following you, that sort of thing?

Nope! Well, actually. Sometimes I get really anxious? Nothing diagnosed, but papa* always sad I probably got some of his.

[*Papa refers to Parker. She called Mitchell, her other dad, well, Dad.]

Is there anything or anyone you had to leave behind to come here? (This one’s optional, too.)

My dads and my little sibling. I hope I can see them all again soon.

What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when things calm down and we can leave the BC house again?

I think I mentioned it already! [laughs] But I also want to try and find some of our extended family we’ve lost touch with too. Heard they were going to an island with someone by the name of January Wallace? But that’s all I know.

The Out-Of-Character Portion (questions written by toxoplasmajuice themself):

Usual OOC question 1: may I draw your Sim? (No one’s ever said no to this, but it never hurts to ask, right?)

Hell yeah you can! 8)

Usual OOC question 2: do you have any tips for writing your Sim that you feel the interview and/or your intro post don’t already give me?

While she doesn’t have the charismatic trait, Nina is very outgoing. No matter the person, she can find a way to hopefully click with them, even if it isn’t on a deep level (so like, friendly acquaintances type of deal).

Time for some new, spicy OOC questions! First of all: I want to start decorating contestants’ rooms this time around. Do you have any pointers as to decorating your Sim’s room? General themes are fine, and if you have any specific objects you want me to put in your Sim’s room (EA content or CC), that’d be great.

So I was trying to get inspo, but unfortunately I gave her a white room in the legacy aslglksjda. SO! In rewriting that bit of canon, I’d say colors that pop? Or even some sort of black and white mashup that’s accented with red. Make of this unintended Monokuma what you will.

And for the other new, spicy OOC question: will you generally be around for random questions I have regarding your Sim? I might need random bits of information from everyone from time to time… for reasons. :)

Ofc! I’m always here for building that Lore(TM) and fleshing out my characters more.

[yuwrites]

ramen [Kuroo]

Pairing: Kuroo Testurou x f!reader

Genre: sfw, angst(?), fluff(?)

A/N: AHHHHH! This is my first time writing period. I have never written anything close to this this so pardon me for any typos or inconsistencies. I rushed to put this idea to paper before it left my small brain. There are a few flashbacks, hopefully they won’t be too confusing. Thank you!

wc: 2,739

“I learned to make soft-boiled eggs for you”

His smile was tinted with pain. Eyes soft and blurred as he felt them well with the beginnings of tears. His voice sounded parched, almost half strangled. Your own stomach lurched as the rest of your body just froze in place. Of all the things to bring up in a time like this-

“You know they are really annoying to make?”

Kuroo brought a hand to cover his face as he poorly attempted to chuckle through the lump in his throat that still refused to move. His usual teasing demeanor was completely washed away and now the tall tower of a man stood before you trying his best to look at the ground. Somehow despite his stature he look smaller. It was unnerving. It wasn’t Kuroo.

“Kuroo-”

“6 minutes in boiling water. That’s what the old man said. And then you have to dunk them in cold water before you peel them. The amount of dishes I go through just to make some soft-boiled eggs...”

“I get that, but what does this have anything to do with...anything? What the hell is going on?”

The winter wind whipped between the two of you, but neither of you felt a thing. Kuroo, in spite of himself, would bet that your gaze would be piercing through him right about now. Your eyes were like cold water after a game: shockingly refreshing to the point where it would almost hurt. Constantly searching for the truth under all his jabs and trolling. Much like ice, they would melt every time you laughed. And boy, did he love it when you laughed. Especially when he would be the one to make your sides hurt so much that your eyes would crinkled in the corners. He could do that. Your laughing eyes would radiate on him like sunshine on a cool, spring afternoon back when the two of you were running around Nekoma High together. Everyone and their mother knew of course, but the two of you were thick as thieves and just as dense to whatever was blooming between the two of you.

Sure, High-school Kuroo would not have been anywhere close to being able to untangle the complicated feelings within himself. He was already in a whirlwind of classes and volleyball. The cool-headed, constantly antagonizing, captain of the volleyball team had to steer his ship straight through hell or high water. Kuroo didn’t have anymore room in his heart for anything else.

He knew that.

You knew that.

Or so both of you thought. And yet, standing before you today, 2 years into college, Kuroo had every compulsion to go back in time and shake his younger-self senseless. No room left? How wrong he was.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 FLASHBACK 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It wasn’t as if you haven’t seen each other since high school. No, Kuroo made sure that you were going to be within a reasonable distance from him so he could keep bothering you hangouts could still be possible. Thanks to Kuroo’s military-like study schedule, you were actually able get into the same university (your parents thanked him a little too excessively to your liking). Kuroo was heading for Chemical Engineering. To everyone’s surprise, you were going to try Biology. You realized in high school that when Kuroo made you you actually applied yourself, you found biology to be a little interesting. It felt like nothing was going to change. But things did, as life always does.

Your friend groups expanded independently from each other. Kuroo started playing for the University Volleyball Club and when Kenma entered the same university, Kuroo roped him along. Both of you were taking on intense majors that ate up your schedules. When Kenma (bless him) started sharing an apartment with him, he became the only real excuse for you both of you to meet each other, but somehow the two of you seemed more like awkward acquaintances than best friends. As the time between meet-ups grew longer, you both began to notice how different you became.

I don’t remember him being this tall...did he grow?

Ah, she grew out her hair...she looks...

Sometimes you had to dip from a movie night early because you had to cover for someone on a group project last minute. Late game nights would end when Kuroo’s phone buzzed with a few too many messages from a girlfriend indicating he had to go. Maybe back then you would have had the courage to tell him about his current choice in women, but all you could so was feel the dull pang in your chest and wave goodbye as he sheepishly left the apartment. These were the nights where Kenma, your ever patient and trusting friend, would turn to you and ask if you were okay.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” You had a feeling he knew you weren’t okay at all, but you were thankful that he chose not to pry further.

You only didn’t know that Kenma, in his best effort to try and keep his two best friends from self-imploding, was asking the same questions to Kuroo. Despite the few girlfriends that have come and gone or even the good, great, or bad games he’d play...

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Why do I have a very good feeling that is a bold-face lie?”

“ohohoh, since when were you able to read me so well?”

“Because that is literally my job.” Kenma whipped his gaze from his game to Kuroo. Kenma’s eyes were just as piercing as yours, but at this time, they were needle-like, pricking Kuroo rather than analyzing him. Almost as if to try and tease out whatever he was trying to hide. “Are you going to admit you are actively avoiding Y/N-san, or are you going to continue on like this?”

“What do you mean? I am not trying to avoid anyone,” he said half-playfully from his desk.

“Are too”

“Are not”

A pause.

“Are too. I can only guess because it’s going to be Y/N-san’s birthday soon and you are debating on being a no-show...again.”

The last word hit like a dull thud in his chest. He wasn’t wrong. He missed it last year. He had every reason to go. He would have been able to see his old Nekoma buddies and despite how busy the two of you were, he was supposed to be your best friend. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself over to your place. Not after what seemed like a year full of insurmountable awkwardness that built up between the two of you. You both changed and grew up so much he wouldn’t know how to think straight if he were to see you again. It scared him.

Because ever since you both graduated high school and slowly started being pulled your separate ways, he realized how much your very presence was like water in the midst of a desert. Why was it that the cheers from his past girlfriends seem so muted compared to yours when you were hollering from Nekoma’s stands? Others would borrow his hoodies, but yet he can still remember the smell of your detergent after you borrowed and washed it for him. He has held so many hands, but none could really draw warmth into him like the times you have split a hot meat bun in front of the convenience store after practice. He couldn’t help but see you everywhere, regardless of whether he was dating or single. In the sounds, the sights, the smells, he thought of you and would imagine how you look if you were with him in those moments. Would you intensely stare at it, trying to drink it all in? Would your eyes melt like they used to in laughter?

What would they look like if they were looking at him?  

If he could go back to high school, he’d have asked if he could have held your gaze just a little longer. Forever, in fact.

But now? He couldn’t bearing looking straight at you, about to cry over soft-boiled eggs.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 FLASHBACK OVER　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You both were still standing in front of your apartment. The sun was about to set and a few streetlights were beginning to turn on.

You didn’t expect him to show up...at all. You already prepared yourself when Kenma arrived alone yesterday to your birthday party.  He handed you a small gift bag full of stationary (which you adored) with a small card signed “From Kenma & Kuroo”. It was definitely in Kenma’s handwriting, but you didn’t want to bother asking what you knew was going to be a disappointing answer. You went to sleep happy seeing old friends and turning another year older, but it still felt somewhat incomplete. An unfulfilled birthday wish that may never be fulfilled in the future. But by dinner time the next day and one rushed doorbell press later, here he was.

He ran. You could tell from the sheen across his face, but he was trying to measure his breaths as best he could.

He had gotten so tall. His figure almost seemed to block out the doorway as he was leaning on your door frame. His bed head was still very much the same and just what you remembered (although Kenma was telling you it has gotten worse). His eyes...didn’t meet yours.

“Kuroo...is everything okay? It’s freezing...” Your heart was pounding in your chest.

“Do you remember that time you were sick in high school? Really sick that you couldn’t come to class so I had to bring you two days worth of notes?”

“Yeah, but what does this have to do w—”

“You had the worst stomach bug and yet as soon as you got better the first thing you wanted to eat was ramen from the shop down the street,” his hand still hadn’t left his face. “Of all the things a sick person chooses to eat, you wouldn’t stop whining about ramen and how amazing their soft-boiled egg was.”

It was true. That day you felt horrible inside and out, but you were desperately craving something warm and fatty. Weeks prior, you were hounding Kuroo to come try the ramen with you and how ooey-gooey the egg was.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 FLASHBACK 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“It’s perfection. I still see it in my dreams.”

“uh huh, well I have a tournament this weekend so nothing fatty for me this week. So for now, keep it in your dreams,” he laughed and flicked your forehead. You jokingly pouted as the two of you headed out of your classroom.

However, as soon as the team came back from their tournament, you were sick for two days. Kuroo made it his mission to stay by your side. You didn’t have the strength to leave the house, but one night, when your appetite was coming back, Kuroo knocked on your bedroom door and brought in a hot bowl of instant ramen and the best looking soft-boiled egg you have ever seen.

“Your mom let me borrow the kitchen. It’s nothing fancy, but I’d figure this will get you to shut up about ramen and eggs for now,” he smirked as he proudly showed his work.

“I’m just astounded you are able to create something edible”

“Alright if that’s the case, I can just take this back-”

“Wait! I still want it!” His smirk grew bigger as he readied his chopsticks.

“Say ‘ah”

“What no!”

“My patient, my rules. Ahhh.”

“You aren’t even a doctor!”

“Out of the two of us, I think my grades show that I have the better chance of becoming a doctor. Now open up or so help me I am going to call up Yamamoto-”

“Ugh. Fine.”

It was delicious to say the least and the egg? Perfection.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 FLASHBACK OVER　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Yeah...I still remember that. It was...I-it was good.” Kuroo took a deep breath.

“I asked the old man from the shop about how to make a soft-boiled egg.” A small smile cracked beneath his pained face. “He almost laughed me out the door for coming to a ramen shop to ask about eggs. But when I told him it was for a sick friend who was madly in love with his ramen and eggs, he showed me.”

Kuroo dropped his hand and raised his gaze. When his eyes met yours, you felt like the ground was taken from underneath you and the air sucked away from your lungs. The sheer intensity in his eyes was unlike what you have ever encountered. It was like embers burning through you. It was colored in a mixture of pain warped with sorrow and...longing?  This was both a familiar and new face all at once. You’d never though you would be able to see Kuroo make this kind of face, much less towards you. Tears were starting to brim in your eyes as well, but you couldn’t look away. You didn’t mean to, but your hand went to hold his cheek, trying to catch any stray tears that might fall. When you realized what you did, you tried to pull it back.

But he held it there. He held it there as if he needed it there. And he did.

He needed you like a drowned man needed air. He needed to hear your voice pierce the noise of the crowd at his games again. He needed the way your eyes shined whenever you learned something new. When he looked at you now, he could see those eyes he missed so much. This time, they looked so soft and warm. Is this how you always looked at him? Why didn’t he say something sooner? He’s missed so much in a few years, but he didn’t want to miss anymore.

He pulled your hand down from his face, but he still held it in his. He eyes never moving from yours.

“It took me quite a decent amount of eggs to get it right. But what I didn’t realize was that, if I was doing this for a friend who was madly in love with some ramen and eggs...I must also be madly in love with that person.”

You couldn’t have stopped the tears even if you tried, but Kuroo pushed onward while trying to also simultaneously use his sleeves as a tissue. The tension broke and the two of you were half giggling as you both acknowledged what a hot mess you were.

“I am so sorry for being so late...and so dumb...and, I really do need to apologize to Kenma...and wow, you have so much snot”

“You have absolutely have no right to say anything about snot right now.” You lightly punch his shoulder as you feel your face flush. Kuroo chuckled and he brought you into his arms. If you weren’t already an emotional mess, you might fallen over from sheer shock. Face buried in his chest, you could hear how fast his heart was beating. It was also incredibly warm despite the winter cold surrounding the two of you. You wrapped you arms around him and he placed his chin on your head, thoroughly tucking you in. For all intents and purposes, this was what “right” felt like. He squeezed you a little bit, to make sure that this was real. It was.

“What I am trying to say is: (Y/N), I am sorry I am late, in more ways than one. I’m sorry for missing your birthday, but also for not realizing that after all these years...I missed you and I love you. I always have and a lot more than I thought I could bear.”

His heartbeat was now rocketing off into space and you felt your blush grow deeper as you tried to hide your face.

“You don’t have to like me back, but I can only assume from the way we are standing...” His voice was slowly reverting to a familiar teasing tone.

“Of course, you idiot. I-I missed you too. And I love you,” you mumbled, internally dying from the reality of saying it out loud.

“Oh? What was that?”

“Shut up.”

You couldn’t see his face from the way you were burying yourself in the hug, but Kuroo’s face washed with both relief and elation. He was giddy and his heart felt so full, it felt like it could burst. He squeezed you even harder as he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I love you.”

[isthisthingeven0n]

typo : d.d

brief summary: being in a long distance relationship with david and no longer knowing if you can make it work

thank you for the request and I hope you like it.  I found some old poetry and incorporated it into this and I quite liked the outcome. :) - it’s angsty so if you’re in that mood I’ve got you covered

masterlistin’ 

I missed waking up in the mornings knowing I’d be greeted by his sleepy smile or a mumbled sentence that wasn’t quite coherent just yet. I missed the way he’d reach out, bring his arms around me until I was resting against his chest, hearing him hum in complete content.

All of the touches, the gentle kisses and supportive hugs were mere ghosts against my skin now as we sit facing one another over pixelated screens. We’ve been trying long distance for six months now and it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier to comprehend. 

When I was offered a job in Paris I couldn’t turn it down, David knew how much of a boost this would give me in my line of work. He threw a party when I got accepted, but that was when we anticipated me being there short term. That was when they told me there isn’t a current end date to my stay in Paris which strained the last few weeks of our relationship. 

“How’s Paris?” He asks nonchalantly. The excitement of being in one of the worlds most famous cities has become an afterthought and lacks the thrill it first had. 

Shrugging my shoulders I glance out of my window, seeing the street view below near the remains of the Notre Dame. “It’s okay, bit cold.” I respond blandly as I pull at the blanket around my shoulders. 

We’ve passed the idea of him ever being able to visit as he’d be stuck here with no way out. His career couldn’t last here without all of his friends, even if I were the one he would be stuck with. 

It wasn’t easy knowing there wasn’t a date we could work towards. There isn’t a time when I can take a trip back home to be with him, even for a short while. “LA is boiling as ever, remember when we went to that beach?” He asks as his lips are out of sync with his words, the joy of that memory fading with the reality of this poor connection. 

“Yeah, it was a good one.” I mumble as I lower my head, fighting back the tears once more but I know he can’t see them, no matter how good his internet may be over there. “You up to anything today?” Quietly asking I can hear the others in the background, the laughter spreading down the line whilst it remains ghostly on my end, the only sound being the cars outside of the city and my neighbours arguing about their stray cat.

Checking the time I knew it was early, he had his whole day ahead whilst mine was coming to an end. “Got some new bits to film and then hopefully going to record the podcast. How’d you feel if you joined in on a section of it? I’m sure Joe could make that work somehow.” I can’t ignore the hope in his voice, how it is dragging behind him as he raises his eyebrows slowly. 

“Okay, let me know, yeah?” I try to copy his tone, but it falls flat. “I guess I better let you go and get on with filming. Don’t want to hold you up.” I couldn’t help but feel like a nuisance, I was always preventing work from being done when he’d call. 

If I were there it’d be different as David knew I was there, even if I were asleep in his bed he could finish editing and come keep me company. But now, if he wants to see me he has to stop working, call me and have a conversation. 

Sometimes it’s too forced and others it feels like old times. The way things used to be. He was so eager to see the sights of Paris that I’d send his way and I would laugh at the photos he’d send of our friends. But now photos became infrequent, the laughter has officially died down. 

“I’ll speak to you soon,” He states as he glances behind his shoulders, holding his hand up to someone off of the screen. “love you, bye.” Before I can respond he’s gone as the words hover over my lips.

*

My fingertips hover over the keys, unsure which order my words would come out in. I struggle to control the shaking no matter how many times I tell myself it would be worthwhile, that after this the weight would be lifted from my shoulders and his too. Except now it felt like the weight was only increasing as if that all it will ever do and defeat me every time.

I knew the words, I knew each letter and its location. But I can’t bring myself to do it, all of the events play in my head like a broken record, scratched, damaged but still loved. They didn’t need to be on repeat, I need a new record, I need my escape.

Applying light pressure onto the keys I shut my eyes as I type the letters, they remain slow but swift in movement as I can feel a build-up of tears in my closed eyes. 

Opening them they remain glossy, causing the screen to be blurred. But as soon as I blink and scan the words typed on the page, the words I had written as my finger hovered the enter button I hit delete. 

Seeing the words, even for a split second was breaking my heart. I couldn’t do that to him, not like this. To know he could simply block me out, refuse to accept my calls because he had no other means of seeing me was tearing me apart. The painful reality of being long distance is finally settling in as the hope of making it work fades away. 

Closing the lid of my laptop I wrap my blanket around my shoulders tighter as I walk over to my bay window, watching as Paris remains illuminated whilst my final light, a hope finally dies out.

[sheliesshattered]

Fic meme

I was tagged by @primarybufferpanel​ -- thank you darling, this was a ton of fun to do!

This got a bit long, so I’ll put the people I’m tagging here at the top:  @claraaoswald​, @ambitious-witch​, @someillplanetreigns​, and @junoinferno​, if you feel like playing!

My AO3, my old non-updating fanfiction.net

Fandoms I’ve made fanworks for: Oh lord. I’m only going to count fanfiction that has actually been posted, but if I tried to count up every fandom that I’d started writing for and left unfinished fragments languishing on various harddrives and googledocs over the years, it’d be at least double this list. I have two pseuds on AO3, with the fics roughly organized by fandoms that I post about on this Tumblr account (sheliesshattered) and fandoms that pre-date my time on Tumblr that I don’t post about very much (glasscannon). Putting all the fandoms together in one alphabetized list:

Black Sails - 5 Doctor Who - 8 Firefly/Serenity - 1 Game of Thrones - 1 The Hobbit - 1 The Hunger Games - 1 Iron Man - 2 Law & Order: Criminal Intent - 1 Mad Max - 2 Once Upon A Time - 1 Poldark - 3 Star Wars - 3 Twilight - 7 The West Wing - 1

Number of fics: 38, including a big unfinished epic that I never moved over from ff.n, and don’t plan to unless I finish it someday.

Fics I spent more time on: I’m not even quite sure how to measure this. I’m a slow writer, and a single story can easily hold my attention for years at a time, or be something I return to when there isn’t a newer fandom temporarily consuming me. I don’t tend to keep track of how many hours I put into a fanfic, though. The unfinished epic I mentioned is probably near the top of that list, and was a huge part of my life from 2009 to 2013. Other contenders would be the All Hands series (written with PBP!), and Truth Universally Acknowledged, particularly if you include all the massive world-building that went into that one. 

But really probably the one I’ve poured the most hours into, between research and writing, is a Doctor Who epic that hasn’t yet seen the light of day, called Home The Long Way ‘Round. Because I have such a habit of starting long stories and then not finishing them, I’m making myself get that one completely done before I post any of it to AO3, so I don’t have anything to show for it yet, but I’ve put a ton of time into it over the last five years or so. Hopefully someday I’ll actually get to share it. :)

Fics I spent less time on: Like I said, I’m a very slow writer, so any time I can turn out a story in a matter of days I’m just absolutely shocked. I wrote The Message over the course of about 24 hours, which is probably the fastest I’ve ever finished anything in my life ever, lol.

Longest fic: The All Hands series is sitting at 126,800 words, and PBP and I have more finished for it that we’re hoping to post soon-ish. The unfinished epic made it to almost 119,000 words before I ran out of steam. Truth Universally Acknowledged racked up about 54,000 words before my co-writer and I took a break from it, and probably triple that in world-building bibles and timelines, etc. On the works-in-progress side of things, Home The Long Way ‘Round is sitting at about 40,000 words currently and only about a third of the way done, and the For As Long As We Get series is at 21,000 words between what I’ve posted and what I’m still working on, and will definitely continue to grow.

Shortest story: 10 Seconds, at 208 words. Also one of the very first fanfics I ever finished and posted online.

Most hits: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by like a factor of 20 vs anything else I have on AO3. It’s the only time I’ve written for the main pairing in an active fandom (tho my purview in the co-writing was more on the secondary pairing), and that translated to a stupidly large number of hits. Fanfiction.net doesn’t count hits the same way, but the unfinished epic is sitting at about 3500 favs.

Most kudos: Setting The Stuns’ls, the first in the All Hands series -- which is SHOCKING considering that’s a tiny rowboat of a fandom, for a non-canon background pairing that has literally about 30 seconds of shared screentime, and the two romantic leads don’t so much as kiss over the course of 94,000 words (longing looks, significant hand-touches, mutual pining, definitely, but kissing, not so much).

Most bookmarks: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by a long shot.

Fic you want to rewrite or expand: I don’t tend to edit a story once it’s been posted, beyond correcting a typo or adding a missed word. Once it’s published, it’s finished and I don’t change it significantly. I do have quite a few (so, so many) unfinished stories that I would love to finish up at some point.

Total words combined: Counting only published fics, including the unfinished epic (and a companion piece for it) that lives only on ff.n, I’m currently at 376,542 words total.

Fav fic you wrote: How can you make me choose between my children like this, honestly?? Siiiigh. I’m with PBP, whatever I’m working on currently is usually my favorite. I’m having a ton of fun with For As Long As We Get, and can’t wait to publish the next part of that, hopefully sometime this month. I’m incredibly proud of All Hands, and that occupied such a specific time in my life that I’ll always think of it fondly. I’m exceptionally happy with the character voices and use of language in both Breathe Again and Upon This Rock Will I Break Myself, Until It Shows Me Your Beloved Face, and tend to feel like they don’t get enough love vs how much I love them. But my one true favorite is and will always be Home The Long Way ‘Round, and hopefully I’ll actually be able to finish it and post it someday.

Share a bit of your WIP or idea if you have anything planned: Again, how can I possibly choose just one?? Even just within the Doctor Who fandom, I currently have more than half a dozen stories actively in progress. But since I’ve talked it up so much without being able to link to it at all, and just declared it my all-time fav, I’m going to break one of my own rules and post the whole first chapter (eek!) of Home The Long Way ‘Round behind a read more:

Chapter 1: Orange Dreams

The sound of the wind is whispering in your head Can you feel it coming back? Through the warmth, through the cold, keep running ‘til we’re there. We're coming home now, we’re coming home now. —Home, Dotan

 The winds shrieked and howled around her. Clara had never been in a tornado, but she imagined it would feel like this to stand in the eye of one. She could see gusts lifting the tops off the sand dunes in shimmering ribbons, gold against the orange sky. The waves of airborne sand dissipated a few feet from her, leaving only a jagged grittiness in the air.

A woman with long blonde hair was yelling at her, her words ripped away by the wind.

“Tell me again!” Clara called back to her. “Tell me how to find home!”

“It’s just physics!” the other woman shouted, taking a step closer; they were nearly the same height. “No information can ever be lost! Start from zero, and run the math! We’ll be waiting on the other end of that equation!”

There was something Clara desperately wanted to tell this woman who looked at her with kindness behind the steel of her eyes, but in that moment, the words wouldn’t come.

“Look!” someone yelled behind Clara, and though she didn’t want to take her eyes off her, she instinctively looked up, following the line of the other person’s arm up into the gathering storm-whipped dusk. There, silhouetted against the last of the light, was the unmistakable blue boxy shape of the Doctor’s TARDIS, spinning quickly as it flew away—

Clara jerked awake, her heart hammering against her ribs, already sitting up and pulling off her sleep mask before she realised what had woken her was the sound of the TARDIS materialising in the sitting room of her flat. She took a moment to catch her breath, trying to hold onto the details of the dream. In the other room, the TARDIS’s familiar wheezing and groaning came to a stop with a soft thud, followed by the squeak of the door.

“Doctor?” Clara called, not bothering to hide the sleep nor the annoyance in her voice.

He poked his head around her bedroom doorframe, grey hair awry and his most innocent expression plastered on — which meant he knew he was waking her and felt at least marginally bad about it. “Hello, Clara. It’s Wednesday,” he said pleasantly, by way of explanation.

“Is it?” she asked, deadpan.

“Technically.”

“You do know that I have to work today, don’t you?”

“Not for another six hours. So come on, up-and-at-‘em, plenty of time to go out and save the universe and still be back in time for your morning coffee. I’ve an adventure that simply won’t keep, so come on!”

His excitement was infectious, as he must have known it would be, but Clara clung to her annoyance a little longer, mostly for show. “You have a time machine: everything can keep,” she replied, but waved him off before he could launch into a lecture on all the ways that statement was false, at least from a temporal physics standpoint. He lectured anyway, hovering outside her bedroom door as she dressed, though Clara expected it was mostly to keep himself from pacing in anticipation. She followed more than half of it, and worried a bit over how often she let him babble on about the minutiae of time travel these days.

By the time the universe had been set to rights — or at least one small blue world, home to a race of sentient seahorses, that had been facing imminent extinction in the form of a rogue exoplanet — she had nearly forgotten her unsettling, vivid dream.

--

Given the recent events on Skaro, Clara was unsurprised when bits of her experiences there began to filter into her dreams. Truthfully, she had expected to dream of it more often than she did, but in the weeks that followed, more nights than not her sleeping mind instead conjured up the strange orange landscape. She revisited that screaming sandstorm so often it became almost comforting, and before long, other dreams joined it. 

Clara was leaned against a railing on a high balcony, overlooking a large city coming alight as dusk crept on, a rusty sunset that stretched the width of the horizon bathing the world in amber. The woman with the serious eyes and long, straight blonde hair stood beside her, in the middle of a conversation, as happened so frequently in dreams.

“Alright, but what about the last stage?” Clara asked, elbows resting next to hers on the railing. “That bit depends on us actively doing something, and you know we can’t rely on my knowledge. I can’t take any of the engineering or navigation with me, so it’ll be down to him.”

“And he loves a good puzzle,” the other woman said confidently, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a twitch of her head. “He’ll want to find us. He’ll figure it out.”

“Before I die of old age? Are you sure? My mother was one of his professors at the Academy, I’ve seen his test scores. I think we need a fail-safe.”

“He did graduate,” she pointed out reasonably.

“He passed his exams with a fifty-one percent on his second attempt! No, we can’t assume he’ll have all the baseline information to even consider such a solution, much less actually accomplish the maths. We have to find some way to hide it with me,” Clara said. “Or in his TARDIS.”

The woman was silent for a long moment, her mouth set in a thoughtful line. On the distant horizon, the sun had finished its slow descent, but below them the city was coming to life, the light not so much fading as changing sources, becoming ever so slightly more golden.

“By that point in the timeline,” the blonde woman said, speaking slowly, still thinking it through, “you’ll have been exposed to his timestream and to the crack in the universe, so some of your memories will probably start leaking through. If we structure the extraction the right way, we might be able to embed a particular thought or moment into your consciousness before you go into the Schism.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Clara asked, turning her head to look at her.

“This conversation?” she suggested, laughing, her broad smile transforming her face. “No, a phrase would be cleaner, I think.”

“‘Run the math, you idiot boy’?” Clara suggested, also giggling.

“Oh yes, that’d go over well! No, if you want him to do something, call him clever. Works every time!” she laughed, leaning her shoulder into Clara’s.

“The horrid thing is that I know the temporal physics for this is part of my mother’s coursework,” Clara groaned. “If he hadn’t slept through so many of her classes, this would be a non-issue!”

“Ah, but a Doctor who was always responsible? What a boring universe that would be!”

Above them, the stars were beginning to come out, though the glare of the city obscured them. Through the haze of the dream, Clara couldn’t find any constellations she recognised. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I was the one who helped him steal that box in the first place.”

“And if he could take half a moment to remember that,” the blonde woman said seriously, “he might realise the role of his TARDIS in all of this, and start to think of the solution that way.”

“‘Run the math, you—”

“Clever.”

“—boy, and remember when you met me’?”

The other woman nodded, considering. “That could do it. Your chronodeterminate conjugation won’t work until you come into contact with at least a little regeneration energy. Assuming you choose regeneration on Trenzalore, it might start kicking in then, in plenty of time for the last stage.”

“Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me,” Clara whispered up to the distant stars, cradling her chin on her arms against the railing.

The woman mimicked her position, the golden light of the city and the silver light of the stars catching in her long pale hair. “It’s just physics,” she murmured back. “Start from zero and run the math. I’ll be waiting at the other end of that equation. We’ll all be waiting.”

--

As unsettling as they were, at least the orange-tinged dreams were better than nightmares of Daleks, of being locked in the Dalek casing, unable to convince the Doctor that it was her, it was her, she wasn’t a Dalek, she wasn’t a Dalek! Dreams of the Doctor peering at her down an eyestock, this face or the last, or any of the others buried deep in her subconscious, hearing her but not knowing her, seeing her but not saving her.

Clara grasped for that orange sky, let it carry her away in bronze sandstorms, golden cities slowly coming to life, and starlight caught in tawny hair.

--

Monday morning third period found her Year 10 students taking an essay exam while Clara doodled on a scrap piece of paper, trying to pull images and phrases out of the orange haze that had taken up residence in her slumbering hours since Skaro. There were bits that tugged at her memory, like a song she couldn’t quite place but whose tune was intensely familiar.

She’d written Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me across the top of the page, and her eyes strayed to it every few seconds. The phrase had stayed with her after she woke, and had been on the tip of her tongue ever since, as though it was a message she was meant to deliver. Below it she’d rewritten the phrase, but crossed out six words: Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me.

It was too close for comfort to the phrase that had, in retrospect, changed her life, sent her on her current course. The Maitlands’ mnemonic for their wifi password, which she’d said out loud during that first phone conversation with the Doctor, had caught his attention somehow, and it wasn’t until she jumped into his timestream that she understood. It was the last thing she’d said to him before sacrificing herself to save him. Every fragment of her scattered through his timestream had said it to him at some point as well, the words reverberating endlessly up and down his timeline.

Why her dreams would dredge it up now, and in such a strange context, Clara had no idea. They didn’t feel like random images, but more like memory-dreams, like the bits of echo lives that filtered through to her sleeping mind from time to time. It had to mean something.

Half way down the scrap paper she’d written: It’s just physics. Start from zero and run the math. Below this was the very helpful ??? and Clara idly traced over the question marks again. Physics was still a foreign language to her, despite how much the Doctor prattled on about it at times. She could bring this to him, she mused, but what was it, really? Her subconscious doing backflips in the wake of Skaro, that was all. No grand mystery to solve, no universe-altering secret code, just her. She wouldn’t bother the Doctor with this quite yet.

Besides, she was certain she could tease this apart on her own, follow the clues to their logical conclusion without his assistance. The dreams were insistent, and felt familiar, but Clara was sure she’d never dreamed of the blonde woman and the orange sky prior to Skaro. That was the next clue, then, and she jotted it down on her scrap paper. Something had changed after Skaro, something that caused her subconscious mind to dredge up these particular buried memories. 

She needed more information. Dreams about her echo lives were always stronger when she was aboard the TARDIS travelling in the Vortex, sharper and easier to remember. Maybe these orange dreams would be, too. And maybe the TARDIS itself would have some answers for her.

--

Of course, she didn’t sleep aboard the TARDIS very often, with her insistence on returning home for a week of Real Life in between their Wednesday trips. But the Doctor was never adverse to her sticking around longer than she’d planned, and in the end it didn’t take much to convince him: 

“I’ve a staff meeting at work that I’m dreading,” Clara told him on that next Wednesday, when they returned to the TARDIS after their latest outing. “So what do you say I have a little kip and then we squeeze in another adventure before you take me back to face my workday?”

She thought for a moment that the Doctor might question the change in their routine, but he seemed thrilled about the idea. When he announced that he had some tinkering with the engines he’d been putting off that should keep him occupied while she slept, Clara made an excuse to linger in the console room — “just going to finish reading this chapter, then off to bed” — until after he’d gone. Once he’d disappeared down the corridor and around a corner, she quietly set aside her book, then slipped out of her armchair and down the stairs towards the console. The rotors hummed overhead, and somehow Clara knew the TARDIS was aware of her, and was curious to see what she would do.

Carefully clearing her thoughts, she made her way over to the telepathic circuits, pushed up her sleeves, and slid her hands into the strange interface. Focus was the key, she knew, and she was nothing if not focused. She closed her eyes and held two very specific thoughts in her mind: the sand-whipped orange sky in her dreams, and the clear question, Where, please?

She hoped the please would help.

It was a long quiet moment with the circuits warmly cradling Clara’s fingers, and then something on the console beeped. Her eyes flew open and she carefully extracted her hands from the telepathic interface before pulling the monitor down to eye level.

Gallifrey the screen read in English, below an image of a startlingly red-orange planet. Immediately prior to the Time Lock.

Clara felt her heart thud painfully against her ribs as she read the brief text again. She’d been dreaming of Gallifrey? She knew she’d had an echo life on Gallifrey, but she remembered that interaction with the Doctor, and it happened indoors. She had never before dreamt of the Gallifreyan sky. Had it been buried somewhere in her subconscious with the rest of her memories of that life? Why surface now?

More confused than ever, she clicked the screen back to the desktop, unreadable Circular Gallifreyan floating idly across the display. Perhaps she should bring this up with the Doctor — it was his home world, after all. But the whole point of this had been to dream while they were in the Vortex, and if she didn’t get a move on, he’d be ready for their next adventure before she’d even managed to fall asleep. She could talk with him about it later. 

And if things worked tonight as she hoped they would, maybe she would even have a bit more information to bring to him when she did.

--

“Fire suppressant in Pod Four!” 

The frantic call was quickly overwhelmed by the sound of the requested suppressant dispensing from the ceiling. When it ended, the speaker, dressed in the dark red uniform of a technician, brushed soot and foam off his shirt. 

“It hates me, that one,” he said, nodding at the unassuming gray cylinder in the open pod in front of him. It was devoid of features, even its doors invisible now in the wake of the fire, two meters tall and one meter in diameter, just like all the other patients in the workshop. But somehow it did seem to be glowering at him.

“And it always will, stop wasting your time,” his coworker said flippantly. He was perched in front of a console on the other side of the room, deep in his own repairs. “Just get the Impossible Girl to do it, she’ll have it eating out of her hand by lunchtime.”

Their conversation occurred in the time it took Clara to enter the large oblong workshop and make her way to the far end where the two were working. “I heard that,” she said seriously, earning a guilty-looking jump from the man who had spoken most recently. She continued over to Pod Four and leaned against the outer casing, arms folded over her uniformed chest, one booted ankle crossed over the other. “What did you do now?” she demanded of the first technician.

He looked at her with wide eyes, more out of genuine fear than mock innocence, in her estimation. “I just told it—”

“You what?” she snapped, in a tone she usually reserved for misbehaving students.

He wilted a little but started again “…I told it to—”

“Told it?”

“…to give me access to the logs,” he mumbled, dropping her gaze.

“Told it to give you access to the logs?” she asked, voice harsh. “Well first off, Number Four here prefers male pronouns, respecting that might put you on better footing. And secondly, as with all TARDISes, you’ll get a lot further if you ask rather than tell.”

Behind her, the other tech scoffed. “They’re machines, we shouldn’t have to baby them like that. An access request is an access request.”

Clara turned her head to pin him with an icy glare. “Some days I cannot believe I let you work here,” she told him bluntly. “They aren’t just machines, as you very well know. Yes, there’s hardware we need to be able to work with, but that’s nothing more than a radio, at some level — only instead of radio waves, we’re using oswin waves to talk to pan-dimensional beings so large, they can’t have a physical form in this dimension. Who, with a little extra energy, can take us and an infinite amount of folded space to nearly any point in spacetime. Just think about the massive intelligences that speak to us through each of those machines!

“But more to the point,” she said, turning back to the tech still covered in soot, “you have to understand their viewpoint of the universe, and their understanding of time. A Time Lord telling a TARDIS what to do is akin to creating a fixed point in spacetime. It’s in their nature to want to avoid fixed points. Ask instead, let him find his own way ‘round to it.”

Before the beleaguered technician could reply, there came a polite knocking from the far end of the room, and Clara turned to see a soldier standing in the doorway of the workshop, looking a little out of his depth. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a message for—” he paused to glance down at the datapad in his hand, “for the Oswin. From the Lady President. Top priority.”

Clara was moving towards him before he’d finished speaking, curious and concerned, her attention focused on the message in his hands. But the dream faded out before she reached him, her mind moving on to something more abstract, more difficult to hold on to.

When she woke in her bed aboard the TARDIS, she stared at the ceiling with fond frustration. “If that was your attempt at help,” she whispered to the ship, “then I do not understand the message.”

--

It still wasn’t enough to bring to the Doctor, she decided later that day, watching him spin around the console room in the afterglow of a successful adventure, people saved, the universe bettered. So she was dreaming of Gallifrey, what of it? Many of the details in that last dream matched up with what she remembered of her interaction with the Doctor in that life. And while he occasionally enjoyed comparing memories of all the times her echoes had met him, she’d found he wasn’t especially keen on discussing the one in which she’d helped him steal the TARDIS and leave Gallifrey. Susan continued to be a point of pain for the Doctor, all these centuries later, and Clara understood him well enough to know better than to pick at that particular scab.

Still. That phrase was on a loop in her head: run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me. The emphasis on their meeting hadn’t been part of the original phrase, and now she was dreaming of the life in which they’d met face to face for the first time, from the Doctor’s perspective. Clearly they would have to discuss it at some point. 

Eventually, but not yet.

[prepare4trouble]

A fic where Crowley comes across something that cats' eyes dilate visibly when they're interested in things, and then he starts checking out his reflection whenever he can "subtly", to see if it's happening for him. (Eventually he comes across something else that says snakes don't have that thing.)

Not exactly as requested, but close enough. The fic kinda got away from me. I wrote this very quickly this afternoon, I think I got all the typos, but let me know if I missed any!

“The lady who runs the record shop cornered me yesterday,” Aziraphale said, completely out of the blue, one morning over breakfast. “Her cat’s had kittens. Six of them, can you believe?”

Crowley glanced up at the angel and made a noise that he hoped sounded suitably interested.

“Now of course she’s going to have to find homes for them all. Well, most of them. I suspect she’ll keep at least one. She would keep them all if she could; you should have felt the love coming off of her at just the thought of them. Hopefully she’ll be able to find homes close by.”

Crowley swallowed a gulp of his coffee. He was struck with the sudden certainty that the angel was going to produce a cardboard box from somewhere, pull out a kitten and tell him they were parents.

“Did you know cats’ eyes change with their mood?” Aziraphale said.

Crowley frowned and peered at him over his newspaper. That was an unexpected change of conversational direction. The angel was tucking into a croissant with butter and strawberry jam while his tea cooled on the table in front of him. There was no book or newspaper or anything anywhere nearby that might have contained this random piece of information.

Crowley folded the newspaper down to check the front page, to see whether there was something about cats in the headline, but again found nothing. He took another sip of his coffee and shook his head. “No, can’t say I did,” he said.

“It’s quite fascinating, really,” Aziraphale continued. “If you know a cat well enough, you can guess what mood it’s experiencing just by looking at its eyes. You can tell how it feels about you.”

“Uh, great,” Crowley said. “What’s your point?”

“Just that I’ve noticed something similar with you from time to time,” Aziraphale told him.

Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out his shades. “I’m not a cat,” he said.

“Oh, I know. But…”

Crowley put on the sunglasses and continued to read the paper.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale told him. “Please don’t do that. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Crowley turned the page and tried to concentrate on what he was reading.

**

Crowley stared into the mirror, examining his eyes carefully. They did change, he knew that. They changed when he was stressed, or when he was afraid. When he didn’t have the mental energy to put into keeping them more-or-less human shaped. The colour would expand and chase away the whites of his eyes.

He knew that. But that wasn’t what Aziraphale had been talking about.

He leaned in a little closer, examining the slitted pupils. They remained the same, no change in the size or the shape, nothing that would give anything away.

Aziraphale was imagining things.

Only, what if he wasn’t?

What if it was something about proximity to Aziraphale that made the difference? He loved the angel, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that now. But it wasn’t something that he wanted written on his face.

He thought about him and stared into the mirror, but all he could feel was frustration, and his eyes refused to budge.

“Snakes don’t do that,” he said to himself.

But then, was he sure about that?

**

“My dear, what on Earth are you doing?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley turned to look at him, pushing his shades a little higher up his face as he did. He had been looking at his eyes in the rearview mirror as he had been driving through London at somewhere close to 80 miles an hour.  “Driving,” he said.

**

Crowley looked into the screen on his phone, camera on and aimed at his face. He stared at his own eyes.

“Are you taking those selfies again?” Aziraphale asked.

He let the phone drop down onto his lap. “Yeah,” he said.

“Can you take one with me in it?”

Crowley sighed, but raised the phone again and gestured for Aziraphale to move to next to him. “Yeah, come on then,” he said.

**

Maybe it was something to do with the light levels. Pupils also expanded and contracted when it was dark, or light. Maybe that was what Aziraphale had seen.

**

“You look okay,” Aziraphale told him one evening as they were heading out to dinner.

Crowley frowned. “Uh, thanks?” he said, not sure how to take that. It was better than not looking okay, but as compliments went, it was somewhat lacking. “You look okay too,” he added.

Aziraphale smiled. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry.”

He hadn’t been, but now he was. “Worry about what?” he asked.

“Well, you seem to have been a little preoccupied lately by looking into mirrors and other reflective surfaces. I just want you to know that you don’t need to be. You’re perfect just as you are.

Crowley felt himself blush and turned away. He wished he had a mirror so that he could check his eyes. If they hadn’t changed at a time like that, they were never going to.

**

He was an idiot. Weeks of paranoia, of checking his reflection in the mirror, in his phone, in the surface of the duckpond at the park, and all he had needed to do was go online.

And there it was. The answer. He relaxed for the first time in what felt like a very long time.

**

“Snake eyes aren’t like cat’s eyes,” Crowley announced as he pushed open the door to the bookshop that afternoon.

The place was empty of customers, just the way Aziraphale liked it, and the angel was sitting at the desk reading a worn and well-loved copy of some old book he had probably had for a couple of hundred years. He looked up, peering at him over the tops of the reading glasses that he didn’t need to wear, and frowned. “Sorry, what?”

“Eyes,” Crowley said again. “You said mine changed, like a cat’s. They don’t. I checked online.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh. Yes, I know. I checked for myself at the time. You were right.”

Crowley folded his arms. “You mean to tell me you’ve known all this time?”

“Well…” the angel frowned. “Yes. You.. haven’t been wondering about it for weeks, have you?”

Crowley shook his head. “What? Me? No, of course not. They’re my eyes. I know how they work.”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said.  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I think I have to make a confession. To be totally honest, I already knew that your eyes didn’t react like a cat’s. I just had to make a quick change of subject. I had been working my way up to seeing how you would feel about me adopting a kitten, but I could tell from the look on your face that you didn’t want one, so I kind of… steered the conversation in another direction.”

Crowley stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said. “I had no idea it would bother you that much.”

“It didn’t.”

The angel nodded, but appeared unconvinced.

Crowley sighed. “I knew you were going to say you wanted a kitten. I was surprised when you didn’t. They’ll be about ready to go to their new homes now, won’t they?”

“Yes, well I don’t want one if you wouldn’t like it. I want you to feel welcome here.”

“And you didn’t think that maybe the best way of finding out if I wanted one might be to ask me?”

Aziraphale looked up at him for a long moment. He removed the reading glasses and placed them on the desk in front of him. “You mean to say you would…”

“Maybe,” Crowley said. “On two conditions. First, you don’t go around telling people we’re parents, and second, we get more than one. We’re not here all the time and it’s not going to be an outside cat. I don’t want her getting lonely.”

Aziraphale smiled widely. “Last I heard, there are still four waiting for a home,” he said. “I’ll close up the shop, and we can go and meet them.”

[wandercr-arc]

SKY’S BIAS LIST.

hiya! so, i don’t know how common these bias lists are anymore, but it’s been quite awhile since i’ve done one. (probably since 2016?? damn.) but i have a lot of amazing people that i follow, and i feel like you all deserve a little recognition. now, one thing that i enjoy doing with these bias lists is to not only point out the blogs i love, but to tell you all why i do. i feel like it makes these bad boys a little more personal, and can hopefully bring a little brightness to someone’s day. so, without further ado, here’s the list: (in no particular order; i’m just going through my following list)   //   under a cut for length. apologies in advance for typos. 

@fromlandtosea   /   @longthoughtlost   ---   RIN. there’s so much i could write here. you’ve been my friend for so long, and have put up with all of my nonsense for so long. i adore laura and every other muse that you write. you bring such a different life and voice to each of your characters, and i admire your ability to come up with unique and intertwined backstories for them. i will always love all of the threads, verses, and headcanons we’ve come up with together. you have absolutely made my time in the fallout community worthwhile, and i feel so very fortunate to call you my friend. (and also that you only show slight disappointment in all the stupid stuff that i do and tell you about lol)   ♥

@betterhealing   /   @sanguinariis   /   @psychotheory   ---    i love every character that you write. you’ve been willing to write with me on all of my blogs pretty much since the day i joined the fallout rpc, and your consistent support has meant the world to me. you clearly put a lot of time, thought, and effort into your characters, and it shows in their multitude of well-developed verses, relationships, and headcanons.

@iinxsearchofxisolde   ---   we haven’t had the chance to interact much, but you and tristan are always a joy to have on my dash. i think that your choice to write a brotherhood outcast is extremely unique and interesting. they’re a faction that was kind of lost in the fray, and i love seeing your headcanons about them and how tristan fits in. he’s also a very intriguing, multi-facted character with a distinct voice, and it’s been great to watch you develop him over the past few years.

@disciplc   ---   lainey !!! we haven’t been friends for very long, but i am so glad we are. i adore all of our discussions about nisha and el, and i appreciate how supportive and kind you always are towards me. i’ve followed your nisha for a long time . . . technically . . . and i’ve always loved how you write her! hell, i always appreciate people stealing side characters from bethesda and making them their own, and you’ve truly done that with her. she’s a perfect mix of danger and softness (emphasis on the danger ;-0). 

@pinkmanipulated   /   @hydrophobiic   ---   victoria, oh my god, we have written together for what feels like ages, and your writing, art, and dedication to your muses never ceases to amaze me. i’ve already mentioned this, but seeing how you write jesse has made me actually want to watch breaking bad, which is something i thought i’d never say. (and i promise i’ll get to giving it a go eventually ;w;) i can tell how much you care about his character and how much effort you’ve put into your characterization, and i love every bit of it. it’s the same amount of pride and dedication you’ve put into all of your muses, canon or oc, and you know for a fact  that i’ll follow and interact with you on whatever blog you choose to write on.

@fictitioussouls   ---   not gonna lie, i enjoy every character you write, original or canon. i’m so glad to see you back and active on the dash again, and that you still have the same love for all of your muses + a bunch of new ones. :’)) you create such unique and detailed backstories for your original characters (emily, diana, and sophia still have my whole heart tbh), and you keep them very consistent. i also enjoy reading the threads you have with rin, and hearing about the headcanons and worlds you guys have built together! overall, i’m very happy to see you on my dash again.

@america-redefined   ---   eliana might hate having enclave blogs on the dash, but i sure don’t! :’) we haven’t interacted (yet), but i’d definitely love to. i think you do an excellent job writing nathan, and capturing the attitude and aura of the enclave with the way you’ve created him. it’s clear that he has a lot going on beneath the surface, and that you’ve put thought into what kind of character you want him to be. i really like the way you’ve brought him into the fallout 4 timeline, too, and how his life changes once he’s no longer with the enclave. (i was scrolling through your blog the other day, and saw the post about all of his goals in the enclave, and then how those all disappear within the institute and might have chuckled a bit at the “mighty have fallen” trope vibes that gave me)

@adxmortem   ---   the amount of development you’ve done for harlan is just wild to me, i’ve got to be honest. you’ve taken him in his very own, unique direction, and i really admire that! (and it also reminds me that we really need a new orleans based fallout, stat.) he has a very strong voice, and you have an incredible grasp on his character. i’ve enjoyed the threads we’ve done together, and i hope we get to write more in the future! i also very much appreciate you for the immense kindness you’ve shown me in the past when it comes to my personal life. that will always mean the world to me.  ♥

@gwinnetts   ---   oh gosh, you are such a fun and prominent addition to my dash! the funny content and interactions you bring to the dash aside, i’m in awe of the amazingly detailed write-ups you post about your muses as well as the fallout lore. like a lot of the people on this list, you are someone who puts in a lot of thought to your muses, and really brings them to life in a distinct manner. i’ve also greatly enjoyed the ooc chats we’ve had!!

@shellheadtm   ---   we haven’t had many chances to interact, but i think your portrayal of tony is top notch. you capture his voice perfectly, and like gwinnetts above, always bring funny conversations / interactions to the dash, and i think that just makes it a brighter place for everyone! you’re an insanely talented writer, and your expansion of tony’s characterization and verses is fantastic.

@primeacumen   ---   viv is one of those really amazing, multi-faceted ocs that i would highly recommend anybody follows. we haven’t interacted a ton (mostly because i’m slower than molasses), but, from what i’ve seen of her, she’s wonderful. fandomless ocs often don’t get the love they deserve, so i want you to know that i see you and viv, and i am here supporting you 100%. people take for granted the amount of work that goes into building an oc for multiple verses, and it’s obvious you’ve done that work for her.

@not-completely-human   ---   i honestly knew nothing about alita when i first followed your blog; i just knew that you were a friendly and lovely person who i was willing to write with, and so here i am! i enjoy all of our threads together (and i will def enjoy the ones that my slow self needs to write starters for lol). i enjoy how you write alita, and the enthusiasm that you have for her. your writing has a nice flow, is easy to read, and i love all the little details and background you fit into it. and, you, of course, are such a nice person to talk to, and i’m very glad we follow each other!

@remnantrecruit   ---   another enclave oc for eliana to despise and me to love! we haven’t written together in awhile (which we should totally try and change soon :’0), but i enjoy seeing abner on my dashboard as much as i did when we first followed each other! enclave ocs are so rare as it is, but abner really stands out as a character even without that. his background is so sad but good. i also just appreciate your interaction with my posts, irl and character related. (your comment on my post when i was anxious about doing something dumb when i was driving still means a lot to me. it’s always nice to be reminded that we’re all human and capable of doing stupid things with two ton moving contraptions.)

@persistentflower   ---   what is there to say except i love violet ,,,, neutral karma lone wanderers are pretty rare in my experience, and i think you do a good job of capturing what it means for violet to be that. she and eliana contrast well, and i love their relationship, and how they support each other, no matter what verse we write in. (and the fact that we’ve essentially created a mini self-contained verse for our muses). i enjoy our chats ooc, too, and i look forward to us writing and interacting more !!

@miss-moreno   ---   we haven’t gotten to flesh out kay and eliana’s friendship, yet, but i see so much potential for them in what we’ve got going so far. kay has the sort of spirit that eliana loves, and i’m so excited to see where our threads take the two of them! in general, i like how you write kay, and how her life pre-war seems to haunt her quite a bit, and also how she knows she’s playing double agent for the railroad pretty early on. 

@ninesis   ---   i’ve seen quite a few portrayals of rk900, but yours is definitely one of my favorites! i like that your nines is very job-oriented, but still soft and sociable and overall just a Good Boy. he comes across as very likeable, and you write him as a consistent and well thought out portrayal!

@intelligentmiinds   ---   i love all of your blogs, but since this is your main atm, this is where you’re getting love. :’)) bailey, i enjoy each of your characterizations. you bring a unique and accurate voice to each one. based on what i’ve seen from your ooc posts lately, i know you’ve been going through some rough times, and i hope you know that you are so important ! and loved ! and even if people are shitty and don’t understand you, you always have people who care about you, too. (and i hope you can get your ferret soon! small animals are the best. i have two bunnies and can vouch for them. :’)) )

@contrariian   ---   i have been lucky enough to interact with two of your muses so far, but you should know that i adore what i’ve seen of all your muses. you write such a wide array of characters, and each of them has a personality that comes across in how you write them. your writing style is so gorgeous and nice to read, too. 10/10 would interact whenever

@vocaliist   ---   i followed you on your previous blog for magnolia and the one you had for des, and what continues to knock me off my feet about all of your blogs is your style. i always admire people who can write in a way that is somewhat poetic and very pretty without making it impossible to understand, and you do just that. plus, who doesn’t love magnolia?? i look forward to writing with you some more!

@synthesan   ---   i’ve already jumped into your ims to yell about how cute ode is, but here i am again, anyway. we haven’t followed each other for long, but gosh i love what i’ve read from you and ode so far. i’m a sucker for synth ocs, and she’s such a fun one with an amazing backstory. you are also so great to talk to ooc, and i hope we can yell about our muses and videogames more in the future :’))

@synthmama   ---   okay, i can’t lie, your blog is one of those that i admired from afar for a long time because i was a bit intimidated by it. not in a bad way, but in a ‘holy cow this person is an amazing writer and creator’ kinda way. you and quinn have been around for a long time, and you’ve grown her character a lot in that span. it’s so cool to see how you fit her into other universes, and how she interacts with the fallout world. institute sole survivors are also very seldom seen around here, and so i appreciate that quinn took that route, and that you had her do it in a way that doesn’t entirely conflict with her morals. 

@neomacaught   ---   you are absolutely one of the sweetest muns i’ve ever interacted with, tbh. your enthusiasm for threads and the wellbeing of your fellow roleplayers is such a lovely thing to see on my dash!! and neoma is such a cute character. i think she and el’s interactions have just been incredible. i like that she’s a bit awkward, yet very straight-forward, and that she upholds high morals. she fits in with el pretty damn well, and i think they’ll be very good friends!! plus, i can tell that you’ve put a lot of work into neoma purely by taking a peek at your blog; you have so many verses and ideas for her. she definitely deserves a lot of love

@voiceofmany   ---   we haven’t followed each other for very long (or interacted, which is my bad for being slow to talk to people about threads lol), but i wanted to mention you on here, regardless. i honestly am not familiar with a whole lot of your muses, but the way you right them, and your writing style, tends to draw my eye so much that i often find myself reading through your threads as i scroll the dash. the way you change dialogue to fit your characters is pretty damn great, and it’s always obvious you’re writing for/in a different voice for each of them

@theirsalvation   ---   we also haven’t followed each other for very long, but i enjoy the content that i see from your blog!! you have a wide range of muses that all come across as very different and distinct in the way that they’re written. when i read your reply from josh this morning, i was awed by how well you captured his voice and mannerisms, tbh. so, yeah, i hope we can interact a bit more sometime soon!! B)

[woobieiscool2]

9/18/22

I finally had my "big cry" I've been wanting

Finally after weeks of feeling down, I had an outburst. I wrote two separate notes that night. I don't want to read them again just now because I like having original thoughts and a clear mind when I write. I'm not sure what brought on the big cry. It was probably a combination of getting in bed at 9 on Friday again because I couldn't say no to a favor, thinking of how my one in a million chance to see you didn't happen, and being exhausted from the night before. I'm not even sure if I mentioned it in any of those notes, but I drove for a night out to meet someone in your city. Ever since I found out about that show, I was just looking forward to that tiny chance of seeing you, so many scenarios in my head and that reality probably being one billion parallel universes away from the one I'm in.

I expected a sense of relief crying, satisfaction from finally letting go, but it just kept going and going, the tears dripped everywhere and hardly had time to go cold from the next ones running down.

I've been so cold today, all day. Coldy oldy again. I must've clicked on your picture 100 times today. Well, picture of your dog, not you. Nothing changes for me. My new hurtful thought has been how I'm being "ignored" and how you could do it so easily. But that's just my mind hurting me again. I know there must be a reason. You have a good heart. My chest pain hasn't gone away either. It actually got me to workout the day after my cry, that Saturday. I ran in the morning after putting it off for so long and making excuses. I felt really good after. I smiled and worked on things to keep my mind occupied. I still thought of you a bit and wanted to talk to someone about you some more. I only really want to talk to you. I saw a lot of my family that day, and I had some big laughs, but I still felt awkward around everyone. I didn't feel like drinking and was getting anxious to go home at the end of the night. All day today I've been so tired and sleepy, and now I'm in bed and that's gone away. Right now I'm extremely frustrated at not being able to go out on Tuesday night because of something that got scheduled without me knowing. I want to go out that day and see my friend I've made and maybe make some more. It's so hard to talk to people. I think the little window into your life really really made me miss you horribly. I can't see anymore and it just hurts. I don't want you to think I'm a psycho, but I also don't want you to think I'd be willing to quit so easily. But at the same time, it must be so so frustrating if you're already with someone and I'm just pestering. I wish you would just tell me so or at least something.

I was thinking of the box I kept of our dates. My "🖤 box". I think that's the first time I've written your name in any of these notes, well at least written and not erased immediately. I remember the first thing in there was the movie ticket to Easy A. That was our first date together as girlfriend and boyfriend, sweet spot was just our date and the same night I asked you. I just accidentally wrote "Judy" instead of "just". That was one of our little typo jokes. It ended up being our codename for your mom. From time to time I think of her as well. Not in the same way of course, but just wondering how your family has been too and if you've mentioned anything about my messages to you to your sister.

Maybe in time you'll want to say something back or read what I said if it's not already gone. I don't know, it's been so long since that first message already. But like I've said there's so much dumb hope in my heart. All the coincidences I notice bring me back to this place where I'm at.

I'm very sorry. I wish I knew what to do.

I'm feeling like I might get a headache, so I'll stop here. All I did was stare at my phone waiting for you again. Hopefully one of the alternate universe mes got an answer. I'm sorry

[longlivefeedback]

Start with a bang, end with a whimper: the problem with fandom studies

Imagine you start talking about a new fic idea, and it’s a hit! People are excited, they’re weighing in, they’re even signal boosting. This is going to be awesome, you think, and you start writing. A thousand words, five thousand words, ten thousand words - the first chapter is a big one, but it has to be perfect. After all, so many people are interested, and you’re using a lot of ideas they gave you, so you want it to be as good as possible. 

Finally, you’re ready to publish. One last round of editing, then you hit post. Look!, you want to yell. I did the thing you wanted me to do! 

And... tumbleweeds. 

There are a handful of kudos. Those are nice, but what do they really mean? Was it great? Was it adequate? Are they going to stay on for the next chapter? A few comments follow. Some are polite “thank you for writing this” notes - those make you smile. About half of them point out perceived plot holes or typos and nothing else. 

Where are the people who thought it was cool, who sent you ideas, who talked about wanting to see what you’d come up with? Are they there, lurking; or did they just not see the notification; or did they decide it wasn’t interesting enough to bother with? 

Was it worth all those hours you spent writing it? 

As authors, a lot of us have been there. As readers, we can sympathize with authors who have poured time and effort into something, only to receive very little response. 

And thus comes the problem with fandom studies. 

During the data collection phase, everyone is very interested - on the whole, actually getting the information to analyze isn’t difficult, because users are great about signal boosting, answering surveys, and giving their own predictions about the eventual results. 

Then it gets to the cursory overview. Demographics, “this many people said this,” a lot of basic factoids that are cool but not very important or relevant. A lot of time might have gone into taking the raw data and converting it to an easily digestible form, but it’s not what we’re here for. It’s just the foundation. 

This gets some attention. Quite a few people will reblog it and ask questions, and some will mention wanting to see the actual answers to the questions that the study wants to answer. It’s nowhere near the level of engagement reached in the data collection phase, but that’s to be expected - not everyone who was willing to take a few minutes and answer survey questions or signal boost is really interested in the results, but they were being supportive and helping out! 

We finally, finally get to the analysis, the hardcore number crunching, the hours of fighting with excel and desperately reviewing statistics textbooks and sending panicked messages to your old math teachers because wait am I actually doing this right or- 

By this point, most of the engagement has dropped off. There are a fair number of likes and a handful of reblogs, but almost all of the written feedback centers around pointing out perceived errors or problems and nothing else. 

This is, admittedly, to be expected. Truly math- and stats-intensive analyses are much less accessible, less fun to read, and generally harder to understand even if you’re comfortable with the methods being used. However, it also leaves the study authors feeling like they’ve put a lot of work into something that people simply aren’t interested in, despite the fact that it was the stated goal of the project since the very beginning. 

As such, I’d like to make a few suggestions as to how to support fandom studies. 

1. It’s okay to say “thanks!” and leave. 

You don’t have to write an essay or go over every bit of math. If you’re interested, let the author know that you appreciate their work, even if you don’t say anything more than “this is cool” or “oh nice!”

2. The rules of concrit still (mostly) apply. 

When it comes to data, there’s no opting out of concrit. These are facts. If there’s a mistake, it should be pointed out and addressed. However, if this comes in the form of “this should have been considered instead” and nothing else, it’s like getting a comment that only says “your protagonist was OOC.” This is especially frustrating when the author has no good way to respond to the criticism. 

3. If you leave criticism or a correction, make sure the author can talk to you about it. 

First of all, the author may not have enough details to make use of your crit. If you simply say “I’m not sure this was the right statistical test,” but they’re not able to reach out to you for further details, the author will proceed to tear their hair out. Therefore, this isn’t the time for anon asks, which must be answered publicly, or replies, which may not be able to tag you and group blog moderators must respond from their main blog. Furthermore, criticism is best offered in private - frankly, it’s highly embarrassing to have a mistake pointed out in front of everyone, and it’s much more polite and respectful to give them a chance to make any corrections without having to do so in front of an audience.  And finally, the criticism or correction offered may not, in fact, be correct. Everyone occasionally misreads, misunderstands, or gets mixed up. If this is brought up privately, it’s easy to clear up. If it’s public, and the author has no way to respond, and there’s no “thanks for your work,” they will be screaming into the void.

4. Studies are made to be shared. 

The questions a study is trying to address are generally applicable in some wider sense, and the work that goes into this is meant to spread answers as far as possible to people can find them. Therefore, if sharing and signal boosting ends at the data collection stage, the study has failed. 

Reblogging is tricky, especially if it’s not to a fandom blog, but sharing it is still important. Send it to your friends, tag people who might be interested in the replies, link to it if you see related posts that could use some data support (or contradiction), and cite it if you talk about the issue. If you’re a stats-minded person, write a more accessible version of it or use it in some of your own discussions. Post (cited and sourced, tagging the author) excerpts. Use it in your fandom metas. 

Creators thrive on feedback, and this includes those who conduct fandom studies. Please remember that behind every nifty little chart is a person (or several people) who have put a whole lot of effort into their work, and not number crunching machines who happily churn away and assimilate every bit of impersonal criticism. 

Data analysis can be as rewarding as writing a great fic, but when it comes to practicalities, there’s no such thing as information for the sake of information.

Support fandom studies. It’s easy to get discouraged when audience interest goes from overwhelming to tepid to tumbleweeds, especially when the majority of written feedback is neutral or negative. Answering fandom questions isn’t going to help cure cancer - that’s my day job - but it will, hopefully, make fandom better. 

Besides, they’re doing math so you don’t have to, which is always a good thing. 

So to end this post, we want to give a shout out and thanks to @toastystats for their extensive work and analysis of ao3 tags; @ao3commentoftheday for hosting discussions about commenting culture and looking at the meaning of kudos; @dawnfelagund who has written for us and helps keep the tolkien fandom going, including studies like her look at gender in the tolkienfic community; @cfiesler for looking at fan platform use over time.

We are surely missing more, so readers, can you help us out? Link to a cool fandom study you’d like to share and/or tag someone who writes them!