#i just. man. tumblr please stop trying to be other social media sites

[violetsquare111]

honestly kinda sad about the whole tumblr communities thing

like it's cool it's fun but imo it just unnecessarily divides content by having it be One Or The Other. now if you want to look at all the art a person's posted on tumblr, including doodles, you just don't have one place to do that. quick offhand thoughts are no longer available on a person's main blog with the rest of their earlier posts, they're arbitrarily hidden off to the side.

and even worse than being split off, communities are (as of yet) not searchable at all, so anything other than recent posts just gets... lost

you can reblog regular posts to communities but then, yet again, discussion on the post is cut up into two places. you can't see any of the community's comments if you're on the main post, not even as the post creator and not even if you're in that community. idk i really prefer the regular tag browsing system

huge props to the people moderating these things, yall are really awesome, it's just qualms i have with the feature in general

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - y/n jane porter (you) decides to prove men wrong by searching for the lost man, and you happen upon him after insulting a bunch of baboons, only to realise that you will never leave again.

warning - smut, dubcon, chase, marking, insulting animals, swearing, oral sex, creampie, kidnapping/held hostage?

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You huffed as you stalked the forest, searching for a man who had been lost to the world. Explorers have searched high and low for him but have yet to succeed. You were determined to be different, to prove to them that you could find the lost man. Secretly though, you knew he would be feral, not even knowing what a woman was and the pleasure you could bring him. You hiked up your light yellow dress, white-gloved hands scrunching the material between your fists. You spin when you hear a sound, looking up into the trees, and your eyes widen when you notice the many baboons staring down at you. 

“Oh, hello.” You look closer, squinting your eyes and scrunching your nose. “You’re quite ugly creatures, aren’t you?” You stumble back when they begin to screech, looking ready to attack, and you put your hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just…” Your words are lost to them, and you start running as some of them jump from the trees and chase you, the others swinging through the branches. You pick up your pace, dodging trees and rocks, trying your best not to trip or get caught. You feel your breath shorten, and your lungs burn. A scream escapes you as your foot gets caught on a root, but before you can fall, something or someone grabs you, swinging you away from the baboons. 

You screw your eyes shut, not daring to look at what had grabbed you, feeling it would be better if you didn’t see what fate had planned for you. Your brows scrunched as you felt whoever or whatever was placing you down softly, and your eyes widened when you opened them, noticing the man everyone had been searching for. The lost man had saved you from being torn to shreds, and the excitement caused a jolt between your legs. You scanned his physic, noticing how tanned and beautiful he looked. Your eyes landed on his face lastly, eyeing the moustache and imagining what it would feel like in between your thighs, his unbrushed hair all curled and wild, like him. 

Tangerine’s head tilts, doing the same to you. He was curious, never having seen someone like you before. He’s seen others that look like him, but none so… Beautiful, so soft looking. He licked his lips, scanning you like you were a meal for him to feast on. He glared when you lifted your hand, and you returned it with a soft smile. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you… I’m Y/n Jane Porter. Do you have a name?” Tangerine grunts, lifting his hand and cautiously placing it against yours, thinking of his words. You squeeze your legs together at his touch, causing his eyes to snap down to the sweet nectar that lies between your thighs. 

Tangerine’s hand moves from yours and taps his chest. “Tangerine.” Your eyes widen as the words fall from his lips, and you offer a soft smile.

“Like the fruit?” Your head tilts, knowing another name that would fit him. Tarzan stays on the tip of your tongue as you watch him.

He grunts again and stops, looking around before roughly grabbing you, causing a gasp to pass your lips. “Danger.” He growls. You are lifted onto the large man’s shoulders again as he begins to swing away just in time as the baboons swing, missing you by inches. Tangerine lands roughly on the ground. After a while of swinging and making sure you were no longer being followed, he lets you get off of him. You fall as your legs feel shaky, and you stumble back. He spins, eyeing you more, gazing at your exposed legs. 

You clear your throat, brushing the dirt from your dress. “Thank you again.” Your chest moves up and down as you breathe heavily. You try and keep your eyes from looking at the bulge hidden behind the tiny cloth. Tangerine’s eyes lock to your heaving chest. You watch as they become black, filling with feral lust. He stalks towards you, backing you into a tree. You feel your cunt pulse, the large man turning you on. “W–what are you doing?” You gulp, squeezing your thighs together when he traps you against the wood.

“Me do you.” Tangerine growls. He grabs your hips, dragging you onto the ground and climbing over you. “Stay… Still.” He grunts, trapping you with his large body and rubbing his bulge against your dripping cunt. Tangerine had never felt something so incredible, and he hadn’t even explored that far yet. He sits on his legs, looking down at you with dark eyes filled with lust and hunger, growling as your dress becomes annoying. Tangerine grips the material, shredding it and causing you to squeal and squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself clench around nothing. “Annoying” You don’t know why, but this feral man's few words turn you on. 

You whimper, subconsciously spreading your legs for him, watching his mouth open and close as he glares between your legs, watching your pretty pussy drip. Tangerine growls as he dives in, lapping at your sweet cunt. Your back arches, and you let out a scream that echoes through the many trees. Your hands curl into the ground, legs slamming shut around his head as he continues to feast on your cunt, licking and sucking, wrapping his lips around your swollen pearl and sucking, flicking the sensitive little bud with his tongue. You move your hand into his hair, gripping the untamed locks, pulling him closer. “O–Oh! That feels so good!” You exclaim, feeling the band inside you tighten, ready to snap. “Keep going, please!” Your eyes screw shut, and your toes curl, but suddenly everything stops, and you open them again. “What are you doing? Why did you stop?” You felt furious, sexually frustrated. This was the most pleasure you had felt in your entire life, and you couldn’t let it slip from your fingertips. 

Tangerine growls and your eyes widen when you watch him grab himself. The tiny cloth has tented massively and keeps nothing hidden. He rips the pathetic material from his body and throws it aside, tilting his head as you make an embarrassingly loud choking sound. You look at him and back to his cock repeatedly, staring with your mouth open. “That’s not going to fit inside me.” Even as you say those words, your walls clench as you watch his cock twitch. 

Tangerine grunts, shrugging. He crawls on top of you, forcefully placing your legs onto his shoulder and tapping your gaping hole with his swollen tip. “Fit.” You gasp as he begins to push in, his hair covering his face as he puts his head down, never having felt something so good. “Good” The grunt he lets out causes you to clench around him and his hips to thrust forward, forcing his way deeper inside you. Your head rolls back into the dirt, closing your eyes as he picks up his pace, releasing the animal buried deep inside of him. Tangerine slams hard and fast into you, his cock so large it feels like he’s in your stomach. If possible, the bulge that forms causes him to become even more feral.

Your hands fly up and grip his arms, digging your nails into him before whimpering when he pulls out and flips you around, pushing your face into the dirt and lifting your hips before plunging back into you, grunting and growling as he fucks you like an animal. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes roll back, clawing into the ground and clutching onto it, trying to find something to ground yourself too. Tangerine grips your hips, pounding against you, moaning when he feels you grip his cock like a vice, dragging him deeper into you and allowing him to hit your sweet spot repeatedly. “Ah! Oh! Fuck… Right there!” You whine, fucking and grinding your hips back into him, wanting to feel him more. 

Tangerine pulls out again, your mind too fuzzy to get angry as he grabs you and pushes you against the tree, wrapping your legs around his waist and reentering your sweet cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth open in a silent scream as he fucks up into you, his lips against your neck, marking you as his. You are so close, feeling your walls pulsate and clench around the feral man, feeling so dirty and full. “I–I’m close!” Tangerine grunts, slamming harder into you, pinning you against the tree, not caring if the bark marks your flesh. Your vision goes white, and your body goes slack in his arms as your orgasm rips through you, squeezing his cock and coating it with your cream.

A growl rips through the large man. Tangerine bites into your shoulder, fucking deeper as he feels his balls tighten. He had only experienced this when he’d touch himself, teasing his cock and balls until he was close to cumming before stopping and repeating. He knew the release would feel amazing, causing him to continue to thrust, his hand moving between your bodies, locating your swollen, sensitive clit and rubbing. Your back arches, causing another orgasm to rip through you, and Tangerine groans, releasing his cum deep inside you, filling you with thick amounts as you squeeze his cock.

Your head slumps against his chest, your chest moving up and down heavily as you try and catch your breath. Your walls pulsate around his still-hard cock, wondering how he could still be ready for more. Tangerine cups the back of your neck, grunting as he makes you look at him. He grins, leaning close as he slowly begins to thrust again. “Mine.” 

The growl can still be heard as you realise you will never be able to leave again, but maybe that was a good thing.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[ermespop]

Rintaro as your Dad

character(s): Suna Rintaro, mentions of atsumu, osamu and komori

warning(s): uuhh none

author's note: this one's real old it's been in drafts for a year or so 😭💀 and it's short cs my brain dried

HAAAaaaaaah

ppl really liked the daichi one so 🤷‍♀️

this'll gimme so much life ahahaha

Hah so let's set priorities straight

This man would think you're the most amazing thing on the universe

You. Are. The Most. Beautiful. Creation. periodt

And that means he'd either just make you wear whatever(cause you're dAt pretty) OR go the extra mile n get you the most beautiful most amazing most fabulous most stylish clothes you'd ever see on earth

*GASPS* wait lemme catch ma breath that's a long paragraph... K

i've barely written any 💀

k so he posts you a lot you're his treasure

AGh ppl in the street like his fans or wtv will totally take pics when his out with you (kinda creepy ngl)

He'll probably stand behind you like "[reader] pose ✌😗"

OMG UNCLE MIYANS MUAHAHAHAHAHA

rintaro would def try n make you spend more time with samu cause "i don't want my baby to go bad"

AKDJSKSJALDJS PLS

ultimately fails atsumu n you are besties

😎🤙

Actually he doesn't know but when you spend time alone with uncle tsumu he's pretty tame really

Like y'all just have fun in a very quiet manner

Oh komori is upset (almost) always cause whenever you see him you just go "hey bug brows" but all's good as long as you keep fangirling over girlgroups w him

this may not be you but i love all kinda sauces so i can't stop thinking about samu teaching reader how to make like a 100 different kinda sauces to go with any n all foods they might like hehe

you and the miyas are a real menace

your resting face is a poker face so when you and your papa are chlling in public people either think is really really cute or... a bit offputting

you love giving people hugs and everyone whose recieved your hugs loves them too <3

author's note(2): fr y'all request sum my brain got no juice no more 😞

© ermespop | Please don’t ever copy, translate, edit or repost my work on tumblr nor any other social media and/or site.

• Likes, comments, reblogs and follow are so greatly appreciated ๑´ᴗ｀๑

[plumsaffron]

Miracucunts roast pt. 10:

Can we please stop victim blaming young men like Adrien? Come on, he’s actually exploited by his father! And the adults in his life are either complacent or helpless!

This whole time the Adrien fans are more chill than the Marinette fans…

Want an example of toxic communities? There we have it folks! The Miracubozos refusing to move the fuck on from season 3!

Ok what’s with some writers forgetting about Marinette’s Asian heritage in some DC Xover fics?? Y’all are really trying too hard to create bio!dad Bruce AUs! We already have his canon wards, at least those other fan writers are more respectful of the canon sources! Heck, the bio fam batfamily from only their universe/source material is infinitely better than the Xover ones any day!

The DC fans be like, “Huh? What’s up with the Damian tags rising? *looks at social media feed but frowns* Wait why is a soft ass show crossing over with DC? WTF is going on?! They don’t even make sense at all!”

Hope you don’t mind me sharing a few opinions from other similar things:

Danny Phantom x other shows fanfics are probably just diet versions of Miraculous crossovers. But the bashing is quite toned down on his parents and canon girlfriend Sam that a portion of the fandom detests. I don’t mind crossover ships since the DP phandom is chill about it but it’s always the miracubitches ruining crossover fics. Funny thing is that Danny’s fans also do the “Protagonist Morality Centric” and coddle him more/treat him better than the Miraculous protagonists’ fans. Strangely he isn’t an abuse victim yet some fans write him as such. I don’t even follow the tags anymore since late 2023 but I’d occasionally share my opinions/criticism when I feel like it, and nobody dogpiled me on AO3! Pointing out various fandom parallels, they aren’t so different in their stans and hatedoms after all. It’s just certain sections of a community being way louder than others. I’m kinda uninterested in it now because DP’s canon is more bearable compared to Miraculous. At least I’d admit that it’s not the best show in history because of said canon and some fans making Danny immune from criticism, treating him like an innocent angel even though he’s got flaws like everyone. Though their canonically released graphic novel really fixed things.

Turning off the mature button on any art site without tag filtering is a regretful decision… even worse on D/A when there’s clearly sus art that deserves to have the mature filter. I feel bad for innocent and good users who are too used to using the site to upload their content… but they really should move somewhere more manageable like tumblr, AO3 or whatever else isn’t uber cultish or volatile.

I mean, I have nothing against that kind of art but those people should’ve just done that on the more mature sites instead of the mainstream sites… I’m guessing they’re too damn lazy to do it… the staff are either too busy with other matters, complacent with it or just don’t care whilst punishing those who did nothing wrong.

Strange thing is, when other people give out similar toned reviews on other series, they didn’t get deleted by TVTropes staff or mass flagged by the stans. Probably because they are secretly biased when it comes to how opinions are said and done. Or maybe my deleted review was a little too “harsh and mean” for their standards. That site has potential for introducing canon content and fanfics for curious internet users, not just people using creative funny terms. But they’re overshadowed by biased staff who’s more worried about silencing harmless opinions rather than making sure people are behaving. The review section should have the 5 star system like other sites so people can sort them out, hence reducing the likelihood of being silenced.

In mid 2022, I tried to create a page for a popular canon divergent fanfic from One Punch Man but that got deleted for “lack of updates/maintenance”. Yet someone else did the same thing and didn’t get whacked in early 2023. Probably because that current version is better written than the old version. Even so, there should’ve been sections for the old and new versions because some readers were ok with the old deleted one. Even if there were Karens fussing a lot with guest reviews (no login needed so that’s bad for inactive fics unlike AO3 ones where guest emails are required not just regular users) about the old version on Fanfiction.Net/FFN. No good deed goes unpunished huh?

Indeed. It doesn’t take much for these maggots to discard everything they know goes on in Adrien’s life. They gotta find or make a way to blame him or fault him and put him on equal scale of all else. Gabriel Nathalie and Tomoe can hold hands destroying him and everyone but somehow people will erupt against Adrien over some minor inconvenience to them. Then they want to find way to auto drag him into a situation to be at fault cause well idk. People are weird.

It’s so...ugh.

Oh gawd. That Marinette going to DC thing or that strange Damianette thing. EEK. That thing seems like a some methfic people wanna taken seriously to save Marinette or her to live a better life somehow. Huh herritage of Marinette erasure. These people find new ways to even crap on the girl they want to move to Gotham for some reason. I remember scrolling and few of these crossover methfics were for Lila Saltery. Honestly, what are these peeps doing?

People do love choosing when to purge one while turning blind eyes on another or others doing similar to beyond. Seems these people targeting you view you as their real struggle in life. They want to be pissy and triggered and unfortunately higher-ups are lames. The I’m cool with them doing to it but you somehow cause them to commit...

All cause

DA is pretty cursed. I’m like why at times...

Sucks how some sections/fandoms are rather chill whereas other sections/fandoms of are off the deep end (especially when the deep end ones seem or are the more prominent)

[elizabethh1125]

{Eye for an Eye} William Afton x reader (apocalypse AU) -

An: (EDIT: I decided to repost this because I found a bunch of things wrong with it so sorry about that they should be fixed now!!!)

Yo guys! Welcome to my first multi part series!

I know it has taken a few weeks for me finish writing the prologue, but it's long as hell and I have been delayed by hefty school work along with my spring break vacation, so pardon that! Anyways hopefully I can get a schedule going here, so you guys don't have to be left waiting all the time. The prologue will be posted on both my ao3 account and also my tumblr, but the rest of the chapters will exclusively be on my ao3 account, just because it's easier to upload my long fics on one single site. Ty so much for understanding! I love y'all so much.

PS: keep a look out for the next 2 chapters soon, hopefully they should be posted in the next few days since I've had alot of downtime on my vacation!

As always reader is over 18-

Minors dni please!

(Please let me know of any grammar errors! There might be alot since I'm using my phone to write until I get home, so I haven't been able to use my usual spelling check!!!"

Anyways ty for reading, I hope you enjoy!

And have a wonderful morning/day/night!

(oh and one last thing! I apologise for no continue reading- I will add it when I can get back to writing on my computer)

You can read this fic in my ao3 account here:

https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaSunshine

This work is Inspired by Adoste's- The silver state: it can be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36634924/chapters/91379950

-Eli <3

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

Prologue.

A wasteland,

That's all that was left.

Life before the sickness wasn't always cut and dry, but now… you were lucky to even find a place to sleep, let alone survive.

When the first few people died of it, nobody really thought anything of the illness. Just another flu or cold that would blow off by the end of the winter. But when folks began to drop in waves, the government knew something was wrong. Albeit, they tried there best to persuade the public into believing that nothing was wrong. They broadcasted all over that all we needed to do was quarantine for a few days to let the sickness run its course though the already infected.

What they didn't tell the country is that the sick never really died…

They just…

Changed.

Everything happened so fast that nobody really knew the exact story of how things spread so fast. But in the short time they had warned everyone to huddle inside for a few days, more than half of the population had already been infected.

Nobody knew how it was spreading so fast, and the CDC rushed to twitter and other social media sites to try and spread information as fast as possible.

But it was already too late.

You had to learn how it happened yourself.

When things had begun to look really bad, your roommate suggested that the two of you flee to a safezone in Atlanta before the sickness reached your town.

So, the two of you packed all of your shit into a little 2012 honda civic, and busted the fuck out of there.

Only hours into the drive the two of you came upon a blockage in the road.

“Woah, what the hell?” Your roommate stops the car and turns to you, but you're looking out the window at a fence topped with barbed wire wrapping all the way across the highway and into the tree line. It goes as far as the two of you can see.

“What should we do?” You turn to her.

Something isn't right here.

While sitting and trying to come up with a solution to get around and into the city, a group of people from the otherside arrived.

The man of the group seemed angry, kicking the fence and shouting curses. The woman, holding a small child, possibly only two or three years old, called for you to come over to the fence.

“What's going on? Why is there a huge fence blocking the way?” your roommate spoke to the woman as she wandered around the area.

“The military… They are locking us in the city.” a tear fell from her eye despite her straight face.

“What happened to the safe zone?” you questioned,

“There is no safe zone… they said that to lour all the surrounding cities into atlanta so they could lock us all in. we tried to leave when we found out, but clearly… we are too late.” the husband spoke as he eyed your roommate.

she had begun to mess with the bottom of the fence.

“We tried to leave by car, but they- were everywhere, we had to go on foot. But he's right… we are too late, there's no way out for us now…” her curly brown hair covered her eyes as she looked down to the pavement.

Her husband shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“No this can't be it honey, we at least need to get Ray out of here.” with his words your roommate pulled harder at the bottom until a small gap opened. Quickly you spoke.

“Quick! He can come under the fence!”

The dad jumped to help hold it up, but the mother hesitated. You looked at her with sympathy and pleaded with your eyes.

“I know you don't trust us, but I promise we will find a way to get you out-”

“Come on Maria! Give him to them! We don't have much time! This isn't going to hold for much longer.” the man called for his wife,

With his words she looked up to you, hot streams of tears falling down her sepia cheeks.

She turned to her child and gave him a tight squeeze and kiss on the face before rushing to the opening and passing the kid into your arms.

You used your hand to shelter his soft chubby cheeks from the ground as the mother pushed him under.

He began to cry as he left her arms and you held him to your chest to try and calm him.

“Its okay baby-” the mother cooed through the fence, trying to muffle her sobs. “Mommy is gonna find you, okay baby? You be good for your aunties.” your roommate and the father drop the fence when he makes it all the way under. The man is going to join his wife on the other side of the fence. “ Mommy and Daddy love you so, so much!” she fell into his arms, and he nodded with her words.

You brought the child up to hold its parents' hands though the fence.

“Please,” the father whispered slightly under his breath so Ray wouldn't be able to hear.

“Take care of him…”

You nodded and softly spoke,

“I promise I will keep him safe.”

The father swallowed as a tear fell down his cheek.

“Thank you.”

The three of you packed into your car again. Heading west, as the couple had suggested you go. Hopefully you could find an empty town or small refuge in the mountains, but it would take at least 2 days, or maybe even weeks if you had to go by foot, to reach Colorado.

They decided they would try to find a way around the fence somewhere else, hopefully trying to meet back up with the three of you out west, but when you had begun to drive, your roommate spoke,

“They are never going to make it.”

You wanted to retaliate.

You wanted to at least have a little hope for the toddler sleeping in your lap as you rode.

But you knew better.

Even the survival chances of the three of you were low.

“I know.”

The rest of the drive for that day was in almost dead silence, only broken by the shuffling of Ray in sleep, or by small conversation. Your mind was full of thoughts of what's next? Carefully plotting how you were going to navigate through the country with a child, with an illness you knew almost nothing about nonetheless.

As you drove you finally encountered your first sight of the infected.

They seemed to mostly consist of small trios or groups, and they mindlessly walked around in the road.

Some almost looked alive, although they were all easily identifiable by the fast growing fungus spouting from their bodys.

Some had large wounds, but you couldn't see what caused it due to the fungi pooling out from the openings.

Everytime you passed around a bunch of them you cringed.

“Don't stop. Whatever you do dont stop.” you begged your roommate.

“No way in hell… at first I was tempted, just to see what the hell is going on with them. But after getting a closer look as we passed… im to freaked the fuck out to even get close.”

“Plus-” you butted in. “ we have no idea how they actually got infected. What if its by air or something?”

“Oh gosh, don't say that.” your roommate shivered. “Lets just keep going.”

After the sun had gone down you and your roommate decided it would be a good idea to try and find a safe place to spend the night, and eventually pulled over into a rest stop.

You had made it a good 9 hours of driving, only stopping a few times to use the bathroom outside of the car while watching for the infected. But you at least had another 12 hours ahead before you reached colorado. And all you and your roommate had packed was a backpack full to the brim with clothing, a refillable water bottle, a few cans of food and snacks, flashlights, and toiletries. You had also packed your small battery powered walkman, along with a few extra batteries and cassettes. but other than that, you had no weapons, and not nearly enough food or water to keep a kid alive for more than a week.

You needed supplies.

And fast.

“Potty…” Ray mumbled into your shirt.

You hummed and turned to your roomie as you stepped out of the car.

“I'm going to take him to use the bathroom, I might even try and clean the dirt off him in the sinks.” you pondered outloud.

“Okay, I'm going to try and find a map. That would definitely help us tomorrow. After that-” she points to a glowing area of the stop filled with vending machines. “ We should eat, and take the rest for tomorrow.”

You nodded, but wondered,

“How are we going to break the glass?”

She chuckled and moved to the back of the car.

“Sorry , I forgot to mention earlier.” She opened the trunk and pulled out a crow-bar. “ I put this in our trunk before we had left along with one more thing.”

With that she reached inside and pulled out a wooden baseball bat. Tossing it to you.

You caught it with one hand and smiled brightly at her,

“Where the hell did you get this?”

“You know, around~” she closed the trunk and pointed to the bathroom side of the rest area. “ Go ahead and get cleaned up, I'll meet back up with you guys once I find a map.”

With that she headed off to the backmost building in the little rest stop marked ‘visitors center’ and you took little jay into the bathroom areas.

You had barely taken a step inside when you froze.

The lights had mostly gone out, and only one remained in the corner of the room.

But that's not what scared you.

What was under it did.

A woman,

Probably in her late 50’s,

Standing under the light,

Clawing at it.

The telltale signs of infection raked her form.

She was covered in fungi, and her shoulder poured blood where the mushrooms seemed to origin.

She turned as she noticed the light of your flashlight.

Shit.

You threw the light at her face and slapped your hand over Ray's mouth before he could begin to cry, harshly slamming the door and clamoring back away from the building.

You expect her to chase you, but through the window you can see her shuffle back with the impact of your light, then moving to try and attack the light coming from it as it rolls away.

You were confused, but not willing to stick around an experiment, especially since you had left the bat that was tossed to you leaning on the car.

Never again.

You sputtered to sit Ray in the car.

“Potty…” he cried again, tears welting in his eyes.

You shushed him and whispered.

“I know, I know, keep holding it bud. Stay here for just a moment.”

With that you shut the door and locked it, grabbing the bat and running after where your roommate had entered.

But you were halted by a horrid display.

Painted in blood?

Over the entrance to the visitors center.

It read.

“Do not enter! Infected inside! Don't let them bite you! Deaf and blind, but react strongly to-” the last few words are cut off by large splatters of blood.

Is she a fucking idoit!? Who the hell would walk into a building that says don't enter!?

You don't have time to think though,

Screams abruptly from inside the hall, and you rush with your bat inside the building.

Guess you just sound hypocritical now.

Inside you see your roommate running from the far side of the room. She is still holding her flashlight, and blood is pouring out of her arm. A map is clutched in her uninjured hand along with her bloody crowbar, and almost 7 infected are chasing her towards the door

She screams for you to run.

But you pause for just a moment as the puzzle pieces fit together.

Deaf and blind-

That's why the lady in the bathroom didn't chase after you. It's because she couldn't see, or hear you.

But, she was clawing at the light.

And then chased after you when you had the light, until you threw it at her of course.

Your eyes drifted down to her wounded arm.

She's holding her light

Blind and deaf, but react strongly to-

LIGHT.

“Drop your light! You scream at her mere seconds before she reaches the door.”

She does as you ask, tossing it to the side.

It diverts the attention of the infected and they clamor over to it.

You take your chance to grab her and slam the door behind you.

Fear turns to anger as you point to her arm and then the blood warning.

“Are you stupid?! Look at your arm! Do you know how to read?!”

She begins to cry,

“I know! I'm sorry god!” snot pours from her nose and her wound begins to sprout small mushrooms.

“Fuck!” you turn around and try to stop yourself from beginning to cry too.

As you slam the bat on the wall beside you in anger, she falls to the concrete.

You swiftly turn to look at her, dropping your bat on the ground and rushing over to her.

“I'm going to die.” she looks up to you, the dying sunset casting a soft glow over her face.

“No you're not!” you choke out, “ i'm not going to let you die! You can't die! Please!”

You bring your hands to her face, but your eyes are drawn to the bite.

Fungus crawls its way up her arms and out of the wound.

The infection is moving so fast, you know she doesn't have long left,

But what sense goes first?

“I don't have long left, please y/n. Listen to me.” she speaks softly as her eyes begin to cloud. “ take the bat, and smash my head in-”

“What!” you shout.

“Listen to me y/n! I killed one of them while I was inside. It's the only way for them to die. You have to destroy the brain. Don't wait for me to turn, y/n. You have to kill me and get the hell out of here.” she felt around for the bat and threw it at you.

“I- I can't do this! Please don't make me do this!” you shout but she stops you again.

“ Kill me, and Take the kid y/n! Take him and LEAVE! I'm not asking you again!”

You pause and sob for a few moments, trying to build up the courage to fulfill her wish.

But you can't.

You just can't.

“I can't do this. Can't there be another way?”

But she doesn't answer.

You look down to hope and see her alright,

But the fungus has spread to her ears, and she's struggling to breathe.

“Please” she whispers. “I don't want to turn…”

With that you bring the bat down on her head.

The first hit isn't enough.

So you bring it up again.

And again.

Squeezing your eyes shut, and white knuckling the bat.

“I'm sorry. God I'm so sorry..” you sob when you feel like enough is enough, not taking the time to open your eyes, but grabbing the map and bat, before heading back over to the car.

You throw the bat and crowbar in the trunk,

And Pausing before you get in the car to throw up on the grass beside where you stand.

You have until nothing's left.

Reaching back to take your water from your bag, opening the cap, and washing the horrid taste of acid from your mouth.

After Standing and taking a moment to catch your breath, you open the door to the passenger side of the car.

Jay is sitting in the seat, pants soaked.

“Shit.” You mutter softly

“I couldn't hold it.” He tilted his head down in shame, but you couldn't stay mad.

“It's alright. Stay here for just a moment, I'll be right back to get you cleaned.”

Shutting the door behind you again, you grabbed the bat and walked over to the bathroom.

Now that you knew how to get rid of them, your master plan was to take out the one in the bathroom, clean up Jay, spend the night in the car, and leave in the morning after looting the vending machines.

You wanted to stay for longer so you could give your friend a proper burial, but you weren't sure you could stomach seeing her.

It also wasn't safe to linger in the area for too long.

You had a kid to look after now.

And you were not going to let what happened to her happen to Jay.

When you entered the bathroom for the second time, the infected lady you had seen previously was still scrambling at your dropped flashlight.

She was facing away from the door and you took the chance to wipe your sweaty palms against your shirt. Taking the bat, and aiming it high over your head. being careful to not alert it of your presence.

You knew she couldn't hear you, but you still walked dead silent behind her.

You swallowed, and then before hesitating, brought the bat as hard as you could down onto her head.

The first hit was enough to do some real damage, but it still tried to turn around to defend itself. you swung the bat straight back over your shoulder and around again, this time smashing her skull enough that she went limp on the floor.

You did it.

she was dead.

You dragged the body out into a patch of grass outside, and then checked the rest of the building for any remaining infected.

Luckily she was the only one, so you rushed back to the car and pulled Ray out. Apologizing to him for taking so long, you took him inside of the building and washed him and his clothes in a sink.

After you had cleaned the two of you up, you brought Ray back out to the car, settling him in the back seat and pulling a jacket over his tiny form.

“Try and get a little sleep, bud okay? I'm going to run and get cleaned up, then I'll come right back, I promise.” you sat the map in the front, took some spare clothing from your bag, and hung Rays rinsed pants to dry.

You felt bad for leaving him once again, but you needed to rid yourself of the blood now drying and cracking on your skin.

You headed into the bathroom,trying not to look in the direction of the lady in the bush. It's deftly too dark to see that far, but the thought still sends shivers down your spine.

When you made sure the door was closed behind you, you began to walk over to a shower used for truckers that you had found earlier.

“Perfect.”

You striped yourself from all your clothing and started the water.

It was far from hot, but at least not cold enough to be uncomfortable. So you relished in what little time you had to clean yourself, before having to quickly dry yourself, and change.

When you had finished with your shower, you quickly brushed your teeth, and ran back out to the car.

The door handle was cold, and a sad sigh left your mouth knowing that tomorrow you would have to leave your roommate's body behind.

You promised yourself you would come back one day to properly bury her.

You gently opened the door, and closed it. Now sitting in the driver's seat, you made sure to lock the car doors before leaning back the chair and closing your eyes.

Your thoughts pushed to keep you awake, but the adrenaline keeping you awake was beginning to wear off, and the wave of exhaustion was steadily pulling at the lids of your eyes.

And eventually, you succumbed to the weight.

Falling into a deep slumber.

And for just a while,

You could forget the horrors of your reality.

The next morning was quiet.

The sunrise cast an orange glow over the horizon.

When you stepped out of the car you could hear the soft sounds of insects in the grass, and birds calling in the trees.

On a normal day, people would call today beautiful.

But it was a living hell for you.

You rushed and woke the kid so you could get him dressed and fed.

then looting the vending machines and using the bathroom, just like you had planned.

When all was done, you strapped the kid into the seat, and drove off.

For the next few hours you drove along the cross country highway, using the map to avoid large cities or blockades.

You gave the kid your walkman to keep him entertained for a while. And when that wasn't enough, you began to tell him stories, and sing songs.

When you decided it would be a good time to pull over and take a quick food and bathroom break, you checked the map and noticed that Colorado was only about an hour away now.

Your plan was to find a small town, hopefully not overrun by infected, and loot from a store.

Find stuff for you, the kid, and most of all , food for the both of you.

After that you would try and find a house to stay in, and try to find a way to contact other survivors.

So you did just that,

Funnily enough,

Finding survivors wasn't as hard as you thought it would be.

When you had found a store to get supplies from, a large group was already there.

They saw you had a child with you, and told you that they had a safe zone not too far away from where they were.

So you went with them,

And stayed.

At least for a while.

You see,

The first few months were fine.

You were safe,

The kid was safe,

You decided it would be best to give Ray to a mother who had lost her child. And being a kid yourself, you really felt like you couldn't take care of him the way she could.

You spend most of your time scavenging anyway, and learning how to defend yourself.

Your bat hat got a few upgrades along the way, and you had picked up a pretty sick knife to strap to your leg as well.

Most importantly though, you were taught how to shoot guns from a few of the adults in the community.

It took weeks to get the idea down, but eventually you began to pick up on it. You might even brag that you have quite a nasty aim.

When they felt like you were ready, you were gifted your very own revolver, adding to your array of wepons.

Things were nice for a while.

You made a few friends and really began to feel comfortable again.

You had even planned to go back and bury your friend.

That was, until they began to show up.

Not infected.

Worse.

The community began to call them “the ravagers”

When they first started to pop up around camp, only a few of them came at a time. They would try and steal our shit, or kill our people.

And of course,

That shit wasn't going to slide.

So you began to defend the community along with others who wanted to protect the people.

That's how the cycle began.

More and more kept flooding,

Until one day.

You were overrun.

The majority of the group had been out on a scavenge, so all that was left to defend was you and a few others.

To be fair, you held them off for a while. At least making it so families could hide the children.

But when they began to shoot machine guns at you,

You gave up on fighting back.

It was time to get the hell out.

They came in so fast,

Set the whole place of fire.

The holes in the walls began to be flooded by the infected but ravagers didn't seem to be scared at all.

And that scared you.

Before you knew it

They began to loot almost everything.

You weren't going to wait around for them to show up at your place. So you packed all of your essentials again, and left.

You were so scared, all you could do was run, and pray you wouldn't get shot.

You tried to leave from the south west, hiding behind trees and ducking in between houses. If you could reach your car you could just drive away. At least you would have a place to sleep-

“HEY!” your heart jumped to your throat.

“gwen!Come get a look at this sick ride!”

“Please dont let that be my car” You screamed internally as you peeked your head out to see a tall girl with bright red hair break into a car, YOUR car- fuck! turning on the engine like a pro thief. She waved the other girl, Gwen over to her, before hopping into the driver seat and honking the horn.

The other girl walked over, and tilted her head when she saw your car. You noticed she was shorter than the redhead, with thick black hair.

They were both covered in ash and blood, and you noticed a rife in the smaller girl's arms.

“bitch , that is the ugliest car I've ever seen. Get out and let's go shoot up some of these pussys, maybe take some shit while we are at it.” She paused to point her gun in the air and fire a few rounds. You flinched and steaded yourself quickly not to be caught. “if we are lucky, hopefully one of these fuckers will have some bleach to sniff. Or at least some licor.”

The two of them ditched your car and went back to doing whatever they please

You wait a few moments before dashing to your car. But the coast seems to be clear enough and you feel a wash of relief.

You hop into your car and lock the door, going to put your keys in the ignition.

“phew, maybe it will be easier to get out of here than I thought.”

They seemed to be so preoccupied in looting the place that they would be distracted long enough for you to get out-

“Who the fuck told you that?”

Your thoughts were interrupted by a mal voice, and the cock of a gun at your head.

Shit.

“Wow, you should see the look on your face doll. It's hilarious!” you could see him out of the corner of your eye.

Blond, missing a tooth, old. Ew.

You would usualy tell someone like him not to call you that, and to fuck off- but the gun against your temple made you feel like that probably wasnt the best idea.

How the hell did he even get in here?

Your fight or flight response began to kick in. and the adrenaline was making it hard to see or speak.

“What do you want?” your voice croaked out, a little shakier than you had meant it to be. Still you kept your face firm and looking ahead.

“Well darling~ boss told me to keep my eyes peeled for something interesting, and at first, I was going to snag this sick car. But when i saw you headed from the trees, I knew that this must be your car! And I though, HELL! Might as well get two portions tonight. So doll, you are going to put your hands behind your back, and shut the hell up. Because I don't want to have to lose my double portion- but, I might have to put a bullet in your pretty little head if you become a bother.” he smiled brightly and your stomach twisted.

He seemed two crazy to bargain with. So you complied, as much as you could.

Even if he was crazy. Or his boss was too. You aren't going to escape, or even get anywhere if you're dead.

The man hops from the car, introducing you to do so.

After you get you he waves his gun in a ‘turn around’ manor. So you slowly turn around.

Your hands are tied, and then he throws you into the passenger seat.

The next few minutes are a blur, but soon enough you find yourself back at the front gate of the safe haven. Over-run by the ravagers and infected.

The car comes to a halt and your yanked out from the car. Your sneakers drag on the rocky pathway as your bought through hordes of people to the top of the lookout tower.

On your way up the two of you are stopped by two men.

A shorter, slim redhead, with long hair and green eyes, a peice of his hair seems to be braided and anointed with ribbon, and a scar runs along the side of his left cheek. He has some type of small gun on his belt, but the rest of his body is anointed in massive daggers,blades, and knives. He’s scary, but not as scary as the man next to him.

The other man is much, much taller, with short blond hair and brown eyes. He's wearing a shark tooth necklace and what you assume is casual attire underneath all of his guns.

Even though the man is covered in weapons, it's not what haunts you. It's the fact that under all of his weapons you can make out the text on his shirt.

“World's best dad.”

With the photo of a girl peeking out underneath

The buff, tall man standing in front of you has a child.

And something about that makes you ill.

You wish you had time to wonder if he was just trying to provide for the girl, or if she might even be alive- but the smaller one speaks to the man holding you before you can analyze too hard.

“Hey, who the hell said you have permission to see the boss eh?” He had a thick Brooklyn accent as he spoke.

The blond man held his hand out to block the old man holding you and nodded his head towards me.

“Who's she?” his voice on the other hand was thick and dark, like warm chocolate on a cold day.

The shorter guy looked over in your direction and squinted at you.

The man holding you began to seem nervous and pulled you forward, slightly ripping your shirt.

“I got this girl and a nice car.” his sweat began to pool at his neck as he tossed you over to them.

They looked you over once before shrugging. The tall one motioned for the inside, and the small one rolled his eyes.

“Fine. double portions for you tonight. Now fuck off. I'll take her to the boss.`` The redhead grabs you by the arms, pushing you in front of him and guiding you up the stairs, and past 3 more men, and a woman sitting on the steps.

When you worked your way to the top another door stood in the way, and the man behind you paused to knock a few times on the covered glass, waiting for a firm ‘come in.’ before opening the door and pushing you inside.

Once inside you fell to your knees, and looked up to a group of six or so men, all dressed the same. They surrounded a man sitting in a chair, holding a cigar.

The room smelt like ash and whisky and it almost felt like a 1920s mafia movie.

A few more men stood on the side, held on the ground by gunpoint.

You could see they were the leaders of the sanctuary.

A few of the men spoke, but you couldn't seem to take your eyes off of one individual.

In one hand he held a glass of alcohol. In the other he held his cigar.

While the rest of his men wore all black. He wore a purple tie, and spoke with a thick, and eloquent british accent.

His mid length brown hair was perfectly fluffy, and pulled back half way to stay out of his face.

His eyes were a deep silver, and his skin lay pale as a ghost.

His presence was domantiang.

And you were sure that if this wasn't the apocalypse, he would have probably owned some large company. He was definitely that type.

The men seemed to be bargaining but stopped when the two of you entered the room.

Your heartbeat in your throat as the man looked down at you, meeting your eyes and taking a long drag of his cigar.

He paused for only a moment.

“Dagger. I'm in a meeting, who's this? And why is she interrupting us.?”

Dagger.

Fitting name.

“Don't ask me boss. Crazy Jim found her while snaggin a car. Came to us spouting some bullshit about giving her to you and getting second portion.” dagger pulled a toothpick from his pocket and placed it in his mouth, giving you a light kick.

Something clicked inside of you the moment daggers foot collided with your back.

Boss.

He was the boss.

This man is sitting in front of you.

it's as if he noticed you knew who he was.

His aura seemed to grow in that instant. And the room began to grow tight.

You are nervous now.

He seemed to scan your body for a moment, letting out a soft ‘hmm’ as he did so.

And when he seemed satisfied he looked up at dagger again and spoke,

“I think I'll keep her.”

And with that he waved his hand,

You were then dragged to the side of the boss by dagger, where he left you and headed to exit the smoky meeting room.

Oh hell no.

You began to shake and try to escape.

You refused to be taken by these people.

Lucky you managed to snag one of daggers small knives while he was pulling you around.

How he didn't notice was miraculous, but you didn't have time to celebrate.

You quickly slit the duct tape holding your arms together.

You would have no time to plan, no strategy.

You would have to just run as far and as fast as you could.

So you took off.

Surprisingly it took a moment before anyone noticed, and you actually managed to get to the door before a man in the shadows,

One you had not seen,

Grabbed your arm and threw you back across the room to the boss.

You grunt as you impact the ground.

Lucky nothing was broken, but your body would be sore for days.

A dark chuckle came from behind you, and suddenly dagger was back on your side, dragging you over to the boss, closer this time.

“You're a slippery one, aren't you darling?”

He laughs again,

“Tie her up, and you may leave.”

You try to continue to fight, but the redhead is much stronger, and he binds your hands with rope this time. It's tighter and you shuffle your hands in discomfort.

When dagger seems like it is satisfactory tight enough, he leaves you and goes to exit again.

But just before dagger exited, the boss called out,

“oh and that will be enough. Burn this place to the ground, I got what I want.”

Burn this place?

There are children and families here!

You've seen them, running around the safe haven.

Even seen a few babies be born.

And on top of that, so many innocent lives.

You spoke before you meant to.

“Wait.”

The boss and dagger both stopped for a moment before resuming.

Fire burned in your blood.

You should have stopped there but you couldn't let this happen.

“Wait!” You shouted this time.

In an instant the boss sat down his glass of whisky and grabbed your hair pulling you up to face him,

You rose to your feet and stood between his large slender legs.

From afar he seemed smaller,

But now that you were close he actually overtook you in size.

He looked down at your face with his silver eyes, shooting warnings down your spine.

“Please-” your voice shook.

You prayed you could seem brave enough to convince him.

“Don't do this to them. They have children and families here, please!” You try not to seem like your begging.

The bosses lips pull back into a twisted smile as he takes his cigar hand and sets it aside.

He brings his now free hand up to twirl his finger in your hair.

“What's your name?” He asks you softly.

“Y/n” you practically are whispering now.

“Y/n” he tastes your name as he speaks. “Darling y/n. Your so brave to stand up to the big bad wolf. Look at you~” he coos. “Do you think your going to stop me by trying to make me feel guilty?” He laughs again, this time dark and evil. “Oh sweetheart. I could care less about this place. Your heroic words are mere entertainment for me. Although your escape attempt was not appreciated. In fact, maybe I would have listened if you were a good girl~” he released your hair and went back to his cigar.

“Please.” Tears begin to fall down your cheek and he freezes.

“I'll do anything…” You mumble between sobs.

The bosses eyes widen and he sets his cigar down again.

His foot taps to get your attention, and when you look up teary eyed, you swear he looks insane. But when you blink he's back to just looking at you.

“You'll do anything?” He tilts his head at you.

And as much as it pains you.

“Yes” you nod.

“Good~” he purrs and forces you to stand all the way up again, holding your arm.

“I'll be honest with you. I like you. So, I'll make a deal with you. But-” he continued before you could say anything. “ If you don't like the conditions, i’ll burn this place to the ground, no second chances,” he paused to tilt your chin up at him. His smile dropped.“No negotiating.”

You're willing to take that risk.

You nod and he hums in satisfaction.

“Good~ I'll leave these people alone, I'll even leave all of their stuff. Well… Most if it at least” his grin returning. “ All you have to do is come with me. Just you. But, no fighting, no running away.”

Seems easy enough.

“Oh and-”

You should have known.

“You will stay by my side. Until I say otherwise.”

What?!

Was that like his weird way of asking you to marry him?

You don't even know this guy's name!

“make your choice. And quickly darling I don't have all night. You see, I'm losing a whole lot of good loot for you sweetheart, but an eye for an eye right?.”

Your stomach dropped.

Screw it.

“Fine”. You agree, and the boss clicks his tounge.

“Tsk- that wasn't a polite answer, try okay sir~”

You tried not to roll your eyes.

The hell was this guy's problem?

All sense of your pride was gone, but it still made your face burn in embarrassment as you spoke,

“Okay sir.”

He seemed pleased.

“Good girl."

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Rainbow Manor

pairing: platonic DLAMP  words: 5138 warnings: swearing, references to homophobia, toxic/homophobic parents, brief description of a small injury, blood, brief descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks, crying, angst

a/n - hello friends! hope everyone is doing well! i was lucky enough to be commissioned by the lovely @youronelesbianfriend to write this story (side note, their commissions are open too so...whatcha still doin here, go and do that!). i was overjoyed when i saw the prompt she gave me, and had such a good time writing it! (also inspired me to maybe formally advertise commissions? you can peek at my tumblr every now and then to see if i do, but if you also want one you can DM me!)

so without further ado, here is some content ✨

read on ao3!

—

The Rainbow Manor is a lot of things. 

It’s a home for the biggest family that could exist. It’s a safe haven from the cold, stormy outdoors. It’s the kind of blanket made of the same velvet the night sky is made of; it’s quiet, it’s warm, and it’s filled with stars. All it takes is one step inside and you would find yourself filled with a sense of belonging, of hope. 

You could run the furthest distance away from it all, and the Rainbow Manor would always open its doors to you. 

Patton would know. He was the first one to try. 

~*~ 

“Okay, so here’s what happened,” Roman Prince said, looking down at his clipboard as he weaved him and Patton through the halls. “I was going to show the new people around myself, but then I forgot the paperwork in your office — and then I realized, ‘hey, what better person to show them around than The Man himself!’; capital T, capital M!” 

Patton half-heartedly smiled as he snuck a peek at Roman’s papers. 

“How many are there?” 

“Three, so it won’t be too bad. One of them’s Virgil — you remember Virgil, right?” 

“Right.” Patton smiled fondly, remembering Roman’s birthday party last year. Him and Virgil had shown up covered in cake. He never really saw Virgil after that day, but clearly him and Roman stayed acquainted against all odds.

They turned a corner into the break room where three people sat around a table. Roman clapped his hands. 

“Alrighty! Sorry for the wait.” 

All three of them stood up. The one in the black and purple hoodie—the one Patton recognized as Virgil—rolled his eyes. 

“Waiting is part of the contract with you, Princey.” 

Roman faux-gasped. “Hey, that was one time! And if I didn’t take too long that day, we would have taken the wrong cake!” 

“We did take the wrong cake, Roman. That’s why it exploded.” 

“...Oh yeah.” Roman grinned. “Forgot about that.” 

Virgil shook his head, but showed a hint of a smile. Patton took a step forward to extend his hand out to him. 

“Nice to see you again, Virgil!” He then addressed the two behind him. “And if we’re talking cake, I guess you both can call me Patton-cake!” 

The one wearing a black, short-sleeve button up frowned, adjusting their thin blue tie. 

“I read on the website that your name is Patton Morgan.” 

“It’s like patty-cake, but Patton-cake!” 

“...Right.” 

“Ignore my friend’s simply lively commentary.” The last person stepped forward. They wore a pale-yellow button up under a grey vest. “That’s Logan. Do not be astounded by how that pencil is both sharp and dull — he’s always like that.” 

“And that’s Janus,” Logan seethed, crossing his arms. “They’re always like that.” 

Patton chuckled. “Well it’s nice to meet you both. I’ll show you guys around?” 

They all nodded, following Patton as he led them out the door. The icy awkwardness of first encounters fortunately thawed as conversation quickly blossomed. Patton learned that Logan was the new volunteer manager and was close friends with Janus, who was joining the growing team of counsellors. Virgil, on the other hand, was the newly-appointed social media and communications coordinator; a position Roman used to double as alongside being head of recreation and programming, until he overdid it with the website graphics and crashed the site for two days. Sometimes, change was necessary, Patton learned. 

“So that’s pretty much the whole place!” Patton said brightly at the end of the tour, stopping outside his office. He handed them their job description packages. “I hope you all get situated soon! And if you ever need anything, you now know where my office is!” He motioned to the door with jazz-hands. “Here!” 

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan hummed. He looked around idly. “I must say, I am rather impressed by how well-established and organized the facility is, especially for one that is fairly new.”

“Well call me corny, ‘cause all I can say is ‘aw shucks’!” Patton beamed. “You know, if you told me almost a year ago that I’d be standing here today, I think I’d be impressed too!” He nudged at Roman. “But I obviously didn’t do any of it alone. It’s the people that really make this place home — people like Roman, who’s been with me since the very beginning!”

“Oh, Patton! You make me sound like the hero of this place.” Roman pretended to flip his hair. “So thank you!” 

“A humble hero,” Virgil retorted. Roman just stuck out his tongue at him.

“But in all seriousness, Patton’s downplaying his efforts to the floor!” Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s waist and pulled him in close. He waved out in front of him. “He’s a true phoenix who rose from the ashes and built this place with his own two hands!” Roman then spun Patton away from him, a trail of giggles following suit. “Plus he does a bunch of other stuff too! He has, like, a gazillion side-gigs, he sometimes volunteers at an animal shelter…” 

“It sounds like you may also be interested in a day off,” Janus piped up.

“It’s really not that much!” Patton awkwardly shuffled where he stood. “I...I like staying busy.” 

Janus tilted their head at him. “Right.” 

Patton shot them a quick smile before diving back into the end of their paperwork. Then the three of them, along with Roman, said their goodbyes and scattered to their respective offices. 

Patton leaned against his office door with a wry smile. They all seemed like nice people, he thought. He was lucky to have them. 

(Roman’s words from weeks ago echoed in his head; the same words that were said to him the night of his first breakdown, when they first called.

“You need all the help you can get, Pat.”) 

And he needed all the help he could get.

~*~ 

A few days later, Patton found himself leaning against the front of his desk, outstretching his hand towards the teen in front of him. 

“Jonah, your feelings are valid, no matter what they are.”

The words slid off Patton’s tongue almost effortlessly. Jonah sniffled. 

“I know, Pat. And– and I’ve already made a lot of friends here that have told me that. It’s been so good for me here, but…” Jonah buried their face in their hands. “Every night before I go to sleep, I can’t stop thinking about what they told me before they kicked me out. It’s like I get tunnel vision. I can see the person I have grown to be on the other side, but all I’m doing is going backwards.” 

Jonah looked up at Patton with teary eyes. “And I don’t wanna go back, Patton. I...I don’t want to go back.”

Patton felt a chill run through his spine. Quiet echoes buried themselves in the back of his mind. 

“I understand that it’s difficult to feel like you’re moving forward when it feels like the most important people in your life are pushing you back. And it...it sucks. I’m so sorry.” Patton swallowed down the temptation to cave as he continued. “I...I think all we can do is remember that those important forces in your life aren’t what’s given to you, but are what’s found. And I feel like you’ve done a lot of searching — for now, try and let yourself be found.”

Jonah broke into a small smile. Before Patton knew it, the teen stumbled forward into an embrace, holding Patton tight and crying. Patton’s hands hovered in the air behind their back, unsure of what to do. Eventually, Patton came to his senses and hugged them back. 

“I’m thankful I found this place,” Jonah mumbled into Patton’s chest. “It’s– it’s built on a lot of hope. I don’t think I could have found it anywhere else.” 

Patton’s heart shattered.

‘I wish I could give you more.’ He squeezed Jonah tighter. ‘I’d give you all I had, and you’d never know.’ 

Jonah left a few minutes later, thanking Patton for giving them a space to be honest. All Patton could do was nod numbly. He knew Jonah was new and it was hard to be new here, but Patton was certain that they’d find their place. The kids who came here always did. 

Patton walked around his desk to sit down. He took one look at his phone, frowned, then set it aside with a sigh. For a brief moment, Patton relished sitting in the precious silence that finally found his office. 

Then, a knock on his door. 

“Come in!” Patton said, straightening up and folding his hands neatly on his desk. The door cracked open and Logan’s head peeked in. 

“Is this a good time, Patton?” 

“Yeah, of course!” 

Logan stepped inside and handed some papers to Patton. 

“I filed through the volunteer applications and started arranging interviews in the coming weeks. I just wanted to run the dates by you before I start contacting people. Hopefully they suffice.” 

“Wow! Thank you, Lo.” Patton took the papers, slowly sifting through them. “These look really good! I’ll have a look at them tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Logan echoed. “Are you staying late again?” 

“Oh! Yeah, I am.” Patton shrugged. “Just a bit of extra paperwork.”

“Well if you require any assistance tonight, I can stay around–”

“No, no! That won’t be necessary.” Patton waved his hand dismissively. “Go and enjoy your night, Lo.”

Logan’s stare seemed to bury itself through Patton, enough for Patton to look away. 

“...Well, please do not hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.”

As Logan was leaving, Patton felt his phone buzz. He snuck a peek and paled.

‘Missed call(s): Mother (2) - 5:34 PM’

“Um, leave the door open, Lo!” Patton suddenly blurted out. Logan turned around and tilted his head. Patton flimsily added, “I– I think I’m going to try and get some air.” 

Logan nodded, lifting his hand off the door handle before walking out. Patton took a deep breath and then stuffed his phone in his pocket before leaving as well. 

—

Later that evening, Patton wandered into his office in a daze. He turned the lights on and inwardly groaned at the stacks of paper awaiting him. 

He dragged his feet to his desk, only stopping to check his phone. The ‘missed call’ notification lingered, except now the number was ‘3’. 

Patton felt his jaw tighten. He couldn’t run forever. 

As he sat down, he noticed a small cup behind one stack of paper. He grabbed it. The smell of coffee swarmed his head. He smiled, noticing a small sticky note on its side. 

“Keep up the great work. Your friend, Logan.”

 ~*~

“Okay everyone! Grab your brushes!” 

Patton blinked. Somehow, his memory of the manor floors failed him, and he ended up in the recreation room. He felt eyes stare up at him, Roman’s included.

“Ah, Patton! Man of the hour! What brings you here?” 

Patton sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um, got lost! If you could believe it, heh.” 

“ ‘Lost’ is just a way of saying ‘found, but with a few extra steps’!” Roman motioned to an empty seat. “How about you join us for a bit?” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, though felt cornered by all the expectant stares. He even spotted Jonah, who smiled and waved at him. Patton sighed. He had been wound up for days now; perhaps Roman’s theatrics was all he needed.

He finally nodded, going over to sit in front of the vacant canvas. Roman grinned at him with a warmth Patton let himself melt into. 

“Alright! Let’s begin.” Roman cleared his throat. “I want you to pull on the colours of your heartstrings. Forget form, structure– even an outline. Your emotions know no bounds, after all! Just remember, your hand is not controlling the brush — it’s your heart.”

Patton felt the words wash over him. Roman, of course, was right; he didn’t even notice his hand moving as he painted. Though somehow, it didn’t feel as peaceful as Roman described it to be. Instead, it felt like something was being pulled out of Patton, as though a claw was scooping something out of his chest and spilling it onto the canvas. 

Suddenly, his ringtone cut through Roman’s monologue. Patton jumped, dropping his brush. A line of paint dragged across the canvas as it fell. All eyes were on him again. 

“Um, excuse me! I– I’m just going to take this.” Patton pressed answer without looking at who called as he stumbled out of the room. 

“Hello?” 

“I see you’ve finally answered.” 

Patton’s heart dropped.

—

Roman was halfway through the end of his monologue when, in the corner of his eye, he spotted Patton re-enter the room, head ducked.

“Ah! I’m glad you’re back!” 

Patton nodded, but in the stilted way Roman quickly recognized. His eyes looked Patton up and down, barely listening to Patton’s stammering apology for interrupting. His hair was disheveled, which meant he ran his hand through it far too many times. His eyes were red, his jaw was tight– 

He was crying. 

“Anyway, I’m sorry again for leaving so soon!” Patton’s voice brought Roman back to reality. “Keep painting you guys! I gotta Van-Gogh!” 

A shaky laugh followed Patton out. Roman frowned, but he nodded for everyone to continue. He passed by Patton’s canvas and snuck a peek. 

It was rather abstract, with overlapping strokes forming a gradient. Roman’s gaze followed the gradient downwards. The canvas was filled with dull blues that turned into darkening greys. Towards the bottom was a thin line of black trailed all the way to Patton’s paintbrush, abandoned on the floor.

 ~*~

The sun sets on a long railroad, it goes past the horizon, it outstretches a hand like it’s beckoning, it’s begging you to run, run faster, everything is going faster and they just told you to go so you have to– 

“Pat?” 

Patton shot up in his seat with a yelp. He blinked quickly, vision focusing on the silhouette of–

“Virgil!” A strangled laugh escaped his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!” 

Virgil replied simultaneously, “No, I’m sorry, you just weren’t answering and I got worried, but I didn’t realize you were sleeping–” 

“Sleeping?” Patton looked down at the time. 5 PM. 

“Oh sh– shoot, I’m gonna be late.” 

“Late for?” 

“Animal shelter,” Patton mumbled, stumbling out of his chair and grabbing his bag. “I forgot that I said I’d come in today– gosh how could I forget–” 

“Hey.” Virgil rested a hand on Patton’s shoulder before Patton could go spiralling out the door. “Deep breath. I’ll drive you, it’ll be okay.” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, but remembered the time. He sighed and motioned wordlessly at the door. Virgil nodded, leading the two of them out towards the parking lot.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if it’s a bad time, I was just hoping to run some website revisions by you,” Virgil said as he started the car and backed out of the lot. Patton shakily smiled. 

“No! It’s not a bad time at all, you can tell me about your ideas as you drive!” 

“There’s not much. I was just thinking of ways to maybe make it more approachable. There’s not even really an ‘about us’ page or anything about you–” 

“Why would there need to be anything about me?” 

Virgil looked at him, almost confused. “It’s an amazing organization, Pat. Your name should be up there, especially as the founder…?” 

“Oh! R-Right.” Patton let out a sharp laugh. “I guess I never thought about it before.” 

“I could put something together tonight, I was just thinking it'd be cool to hear you talk about it.” Virgil turned at an intersection. The sign of the animal shelter soon came into view. 

“I guess that’d be a good idea!” Patton shrugged. “But there’s, um, not really anything interesting to know.” 

Virgil frowned, falling quiet as he parked the car. When they stopped moving, Virgil turned to face him. 

“Say, would it be okay if I joined you?” Virgil shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “I, um, have a bit of a free night, and I was thinking that maybe I could just ask you stuff for the website now so I don’t have to bother you later…?” 

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds perfect! Liz will probably be okay with it. I think it’s bath night for the dogs, and we can always use an extra hand with that!” 

Virgil chuckled, following Patton out the car and into the animal shelter. 

Patton gathered the energy he had left to greet Liz and everyone else, already cooing over the various animals he and Virgil passed by. They reached the back and, with only a bit of struggle (Patton would never admit to these cute dogs being a struggle), took each dog a bath. All the while, Virgil asked Patton questions about the Rainbow Manor and his life in general, which Patton did his best to answer.

“I ended up founding the Rainbow Manor a year after I graduated.” Patton wiped his brow as they finished drying the last dog. “I had been living on Roman’s couch for so long after being kicked out and I just wanted to turn it around; not only for myself, but for other people.”

Virgil’s stare softened. “I– I’m sorry. N-Not about how you founded the place but, like...why you felt like you needed to. That must’ve been hard.” 

“Yeah.” Patton forced a shrug. “It is what it is. Sometimes, you have to get lost to be found, right?” 

“Right.” Virgil looked up at Patton. “Do...do you still keep in touch with them? Your parents, I mean.” 

Patton felt his heart squeeze. 

“It’s been so long,” he finally said. “I doubt they’d want to talk to me.” 

—

Virgil offered to drive Patton back, but Patton insisted on taking a cab home. Virgil reluctantly conceded, but promised to email Patton when he drafted the additions to the website. Patton just nodded and watched Virgil drive off. 

When he was sure that Virgil was completely gone, he shakily pulled out his phone and called a cab. 

“Hi! I– I just need to go to The Rainbow Manor,” he said to the driver as he climbed into the car. He found himself laughing. “Long work day. It is what it is.” 

~*~

Days passed, and Patton’s workload somehow doubled: new admissions, new initiatives, new everything. 

(And his mother kept calling. And calling. And calling.) 

To say it was a lot was an understatement. 

Patton found himself going back and forth along the manor halls, forcing a smile at those he passed. He closed his eyes, turning a corner before he knocked into someone. 

“Crap! I– I’m so sorry.” Patton quickly scrambled to gather the papers that had fallen onto the floor. 

“Oh, don’t apologize, I always thought that important documentation would make for good confetti– ah, hello, Patton.”

Patton looked up. Janus appeared above him, outstretching their hand to help Patton up. Patton took it, scooping the papers up as he went. 

“Janus! Hi! Well, if you’re looking for me...here I am!” He laughed, though it sounded scratchier than expected. “Everything okay?” 

“More than, thank you. I just wanted to follow up about my schedule for the new admissions? You mentioned yesterday that I should come to you but I couldn’t find you…” 

Patton winced. His chest tightened.

“F– I forgot, goodness how am I always–”

“It’s quite alright, Patton, I can always–” 

“I–It’s not okay!” 

In the corner of his eye, Jonah passed by. He felt their wide eyes on him. The air grew thinner.

“It’s– gah, it’s never fucking–”

“Oookay. We’re not okay and that’s...okay.” 

Janus suddenly took Patton’s arm and led him to their office. They swiftly kicked the door shut with their foot as they let Patton settle on the couch. 

“Breathe for me,” Janus said slowly, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Patton. They took Patton’s hand and motioned for him to follow their lead. “In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8…” 

They repeated this a few more times until Patton let go of his head and his breathing evened out. 

“I– I’m so sorry, Janus. I don’t know what–”

“It’s fine, Patton. I’m glad I could help.” A pause. Janus leaned back in their chair. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

“No, everything’s fine.” 

Janus raised a brow. 

“Okay, everything’s not fine. But...but it will be fine. I have to be fine.” His mind drifted to Jonah. Patton buried his face in his hands. 

“I can’t be like this,” he said, tears threatening to fall. “I...I just can’t. Not now, this– this can’t be happening now.”

“Unfortunately, these things tend to find us — not the other way around.” Janus squeezed Patton’s hand in a sudden moment of softness. “I...I know what this is, Patton. And I don’t have to tell you what to do because I know you know. You help so many people like you, but remember: when the plane is falling, you have to put on your oxygen mask before you help someone else.” 

Patton locked eyes with Janus for a split second, opening his mouth to respond when he felt his phone ringing. Reflexively, he pulled it out in front of his lap. The air disappeared once more. 

‘Incoming call: Mother’ 

Patton quickly pressed ‘decline’. He then looked up at Janus, whose eyes darted upwards as well. 

Shit. 

“I– I have to go.” 

“Wait, Patton–” 

“Thank you for everything, Janus,” Patton mumbled, and before Janus could reply, Patton sped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

 ~*~

“I just don’t get it,” Roman muttered, leg bouncing under the table in the break room. “I’ve never seen him like this before.” 

“You haven’t?” Janus circled the table like a hawk. 

“What makes you think I have?” 

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that he has about a thousand jobs! Or perhaps it’s that he’s been staying overnight every night to work as if he owns the place — oh wait! He does! But I have no idea why that might be stressful at all!” 

Roman glowered at them, but said nothing. 

“I can imagine that his workload presumably doubled this past month,” Logan, sitting across from Roman beside Virgil, adjusted his glasses. “Between the new admissions, growth in our volunteer admissions…” 

“Okay, so he has a lot on his plate!” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I’ve seen him stressed out about these sorts of things. This is different.” 

“So what else could be on his mind?” Virgil piped up. 

Janus suddenly stopped in their tracks. 

“His mother.” 

Roman’s heart dropped. “His– his what?” 

“She called him while Patton was in my office,” Janus murmured. “He left straight after.” 

Virgil frowned. “Why would he...” 

Roman felt as if he had burst into flames. The pieces clicked together in his head.

“The– the fucking nerve of that woman, I can’t believe she’s still–”

“Roman, what are you talking about?” Logan cut in.

Before Roman could respond, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He immediately pulled out his phone. His breathing hitched. 

‘Help.’

“It’s Patton,” he blurted out, stumbling out his chair and making his way out of the room. Everyone exchanged looks, but quickly followed suit. 

Roman weaved his ways through the halls until he neared Patton’s office. Loud sobs were muffled behind the door. Roman felt his heart breaking already as he opened it. 

And there was Patton, on the floor, crying, and surrounded by shards of broken porcelain. Roman recognized it as a vase he had painted for him years ago. He winced seeing small drops of blood surrounding the pieces. His eyes quickly scanned the room as Logan immediately tended to Patton. 

“What happened, Patton?” Logan murmured as Patton curled up closer to him, sobs still wracking his body.

“I– I’m so sorry.” Each word sounded like it was forced out of his lungs and into the air. “I– I tried to clean up, I’m sorry–” 

“Shh, Patton. It’s okay.” Janus knelt down beside him, carefully lifting Patton’s wrist to examine his hand. A long cut ran across his palm. Janus looked up at Roman and Virgil.

“There’s a first-aid kit in my office, as well as a broom and dustpan. Can one of you grab it?” 

Virgil nodded wordlessly, exiting the room. Roman noticed Patton’s phone beside Patton on the ground, and reached over to pick it up. 

“What did she say, Pat,” Roman asked, fear edging the quiet of his voice. The words seemed to stab at Patton and let out more sobs. 

“She– she found out about everything,” Patton wheezed through tears. “The– the Rainbow Manor, where I am– she wants to take it all– she can’t take it all–” 

“Patton, I need you to follow my breathing, okay?” Janus interrupted, motioning at their chest with their hand as they inhaled and exhaled. “Can you see my hand? I want you to try and follow along, okay? 

Patton numbly nodded, trying to breathe through hiccups and sobs. Janus repeated the exercise with Patton for at least fifteen minutes, with Virgil returning halfway and Logan moving to sit in front of Patton to start tending to the cut. Virgil carefully swept around Roman, Janus, Logan, and Patton on the floor. 

“Whatever she told you, it isn’t true,” Roman said after Patton’s breath had evened out. “She can’t touch you here, not with us around.” 

“I– I know,” Patton sniffled. Logan finished bandaging Patton’s hand and offered him a tissue from the box on his desk. “She said so many awful things, but– but the scariest part is that she didn’t stop at just saying things.” 

“What do you mean?” Logan murmured. 

“She...she threatened to shut the Rainbow Manor down.” 

“What?!” Roman shot up from the floor. “But– but she can’t–” 

“You know my mom, Roman,” Patton whimpered. “She has connections all over the city. If she wanted to, she would find a way.” 

“So why hasn’t she?” Janus asked quietly. A beat of silence. Patton brought his knees closer to his chest and buried his face between them. 

“She– she wants a percentage of the donations,” Patton finally admitted. 

“What the fuck,” Virgil growled, stopping in his tracks. 

“I know! It’s– it’s impossible, I–” Another sob. Logan and Janus moved closer to him, with Janus putting their arm around his shoulder. 

“What did you tell her?” Janus pressed on. 

“I– I told her no! Even if I wanted to, I can’t, but– but what else can I do?” Patton looked at his bandaged hand and grimaced. “And of course she got mad, and I freaked out, and I knocked over the vase– god, Roman, I’m sorry about the vase–” 

“The vase is replaceable,” is all Roman said. “You aren’t.” 

Patton just nodded, looking up at the four of them in his office with teary eyes. 

“What am I going to do?” 

Everyone exchanged looks. Roman lowered himself back to the floor beside Patton and wrapped him in a warm hug.

“You’re not going to do anything,” Roman said firmly. 

“Roman…”

“All your life, you’ve taken care of people like they were your family, Patton. Please, let your family take care of you.” 

Patton sniffled, looking around him. Virgil, Logan, and Janus nodded with small smiles, moving closer to him and joining the embrace. 

And Patton just nodded, dissolving into tears; except this time, Roman could feel the relief from them. He felt Patton melt in his touch and smiled to himself, a similar relief washing over him as well. 

(And for a moment, just a brief moment, Patton was home.)

~*~ 

One week later…

“Keep your eyes closed…” 

“Roman, I don’t know how many more walls I can keep bumping into!” 

“Just a little longer, I promise!”

Patton giggled, letting himself be led by Roman through more halls. Then, Roman stopped him. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes in 3...2–” 

“I’m opening them now, I’m too excited!” Patton squealed, and then opened his eyes. Suddenly, a burst of colour flooded his vision. 

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices exclaimed. 

Patton broke into a wide smile, blinking to focus on the sight in front of him. He was standing in the recreation room, with a big banner hanging from the back wall reading, “Happy Birthday, Rainbow Manor!”. Beneath it was a table with a cake, which was surrounded by Janus, Virgil, and Logan, alongside a bunch of other teens Patton recognized. Even Jonah was there, wearing a small party hat with a confetti popper in his hands. 

Patton felt tears well up in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you remembered!” 

“Of course, padré!” Roman grabbed Patton’s arm and led him around the table to stand in front of the cake. “Always normal for a family to celebrate the man who built their home!” 

“Oh, Roman!” Patton leaned against his shoulder, sniffling. “It’s perfect.” 

He then looked at Virgil, Logan, and Janus. “I can’t believe you guys set this all up, it must’ve taken forever!” 

“Actually, it just took a day,” Logan hummed. 

“And the cake doesn’t explode,” Virgil said with a small finger salute. “I checked.” 

“Additionally, we understand that presents are customary at a party,” Logan continued. “So while our present is not materialistic, we do hope it suffices.” 

“Oh?” 

“Sir Nerds-A-Lot is trying to say that we’re pitching in to give you a few days off!” Roman declared. “We handled a few responsibilities over the weekend while you were home, and split your workload for the week ahead! Consider this the fabulous gift of time!” 

“Oh you guys! You didn’t have to!” 

“But we did, and we did so gladly,” Logan said with a nod. 

“Also–” Janus leaned over to quietly whisper in Patton’s ear– “I took care of your mother.” 

Patton frowned. “You...what? Is– is she…” 

“She’s fine, but she won’t be bothering you for a long time.” Janus winked. “Let’s just say I know people too.”

Patton exhaled a breath he felt he was holding onto forever. He nodded graciously at Janus as Roman handed him a cake-cutter. 

“Alright! Before you take the first slice, you gotta make a wish!” Roman motioned at the lit candles on the cake. Patton stepped forward, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and then blew them out. 

Everyone cheered as Patton was surrounded by hugs and laughter. He felt Janus, Logan, Roman, and Virgil crowd around him as they started to help hand out cake to all the teens. 

And in the back of his mind, his wish echoed in his head. 

‘I hope to always be able to share this home with my family.’

[starcloud-nova]

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

 Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

 Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload  Okay, let’s talk HeroCon. 

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

[meruz]

Aforementioned long ask post please excuse me while i try to figure out tumblr's new text editor. I’ll get into the art meme questions first and then the rest at the end.

Ok first of all thank you all for sending in questions! Giving me an excuse to talk hehe. I’ll address these in number order. Here’s a link to the ask meme for reference but also I’ll restate the question for ease of reading.

1. When did you get into art?

Super cliche answer but I don’t remember a time where I WASN’T the weird art kid! I started keeping a dedicated sketchbook when I was about 12? But here’s a page from my kindergarten journal about what I want to be when I grow up.

2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for? 

LOL this is a weird question. Not sure why so many people want to know. Anyways I definitely had a dA. more than one dA account. I used to browse oekakis when I was a kid but I think I was only signed up to some small ones that internet friends owned. What else...? Mangabullet,Tegakie, Paintberri, iscribble back when that was a thing, instagram if that COUNTs, I used to post art on livejournal and dreamwidth too. Patreon, I guess. Gumroad, inprnt, bigcartel, storenvy all for selling stuff.

In terms of resources.. I have a schoolism account that I’m sharing with friends. Used to take classes on coursera for free. I signed up to textures.com for work recently haha. I can’t remember if I ever had an account on posemaniacs. Did they have accounts...? I definitely used to visit all the time.

3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Alright here’s me actually logging into my old deviantart account. These are from September 2008 So I was 13 years old. I don’t have a deviantart account from before then because 13 was the required age for having an account and I didn’t want to lie about my age because I wanted people to be impressed by how young yet clearly incredible at art I was LOL.

4. What defines your artistic style?

You guys are probably more equipped to answer this than me but uh... I wanna say... Focus on colors. And... a slightly heavy hand? Like confident... not always well-considered mark making HAH...

Also I think I have a pretty healthy mix of american comics/manga influences. I feel like people who are into american comics always think my art is too manga and people who are into anime/manga always think my art is too american. And I’m taking that as a good sign.

5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I like to think I switch it up a bunch! I mean, these are pretty different, right?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but one thing I really took away from art school is that, for an illustrator at least, art style shouldn’t be consistent. Your greatest weapon is changing the aspects of your style based on the task, the emotions and message you want to illustrate etc. So depending on the project I’m working on, the fandom I’m drawing for, whether I want something to be funny or serious or dramatic, I’ll change things about my style all the time.

One thing I don’t rly post on here is really tight polished work and that’s because I do that for my day job haha. If you’re not paying me... I’m probably not gonna color in the lines.

6. What levels of artistic education have you had?

I have a whole ass diploma LOL. Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration. from the Rhode Island School of Design. And I had a great college experience tbh. Besides the student loans. If any of you guys are thinking about art school feel free to e-mail or message me questions or concerns, I’ll be happy to help. Be as honest as I can be.

7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

heres the wandavision kids. Uhh what else do I have...I feel like I’m rummaging for loose change here...

assorted valentines prep doodles

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done?

Well, obviously this is gonna change all the time and generally it’s gonna be my most recent piece LOL. So yeah, why the hell not. I’ll say it’s this one. I have a pretty short memory which I count as a blessing for an artist. I don’t dwell that long on older work and it keeps me moving forward.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I like that it’s something that only I would make! I had this thought fairly recently and I wrote it down in my sketchbook, it’s pretty cheesy and rambling but it felt revolutionary at the time:

So yeah. I like my art best when it’s the most me and for me. And I like it least when it feels like I’m just making something for social media or for other people’s expectations or whatever.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

Kids in baggy clothing are like my go-to LOL idk if that’s obvious. but also I like being challenged so lately I’ve really loved drawing multi-character compositions, environments, weird angles, etc.

oh i LOVE drawing the underside of shoes lol. And bandages. People that are kinda beat up.. I think it comes from getting a bunch of cuts all the time. I’m always patching myself up and I want to patch characters up too.

15. What do you like drawing the least?

mmm I try to find something to like in every drawing but lets see... I don’t like doing commissions of people’s dogs. Just because it’s normally like... a family friend and my mom volunteered me without my consent and I don’t even really know what they’re expecting me to draw and I don’t even get to meet the dog. Also I’m not that great at dog anatomy. Trying to learn though.

18. What is your purpose for drawing?

This could have a million answers! Uhhh to GIT GOOD??? But also to express myself... and also to make money... I mean it depends on what the drawing IS. I draw fanart mostly to connect to people in the fandom so if you ever see me drawing fanart please take it as like an open invitation to talk to me about the character haha. 

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

Good!!! I have a lot of self-confidence primarily born out of ignorance and a short attention span. If I don’t think too hard about how many other artists are mindblowingly unfathombly good... its easy to think I’m good too! LOL

In all seriousness though, I think the opinion a person has of their art is like a crazy balancing act, right? Like you have to think you suck enough to want to get better but also you have to think you’re good enough to not want to give up. I think we’re all walking that line, I know I am! But also I’m a glass half-full type of person so. Most of the time I feel good about it.

22. List at least one of your “artspirations.”

This is a good question because I’ve been trying and failing to put together one of those “influence map” memes for like a full month now. What’s giving me a hard time is I feel like none of these are actually really obvious “““influences”““ in my art? Like it’s hard to see a lot of them in the work I make...? But idk maybe you guys’ll see what I can’t.

And these are just a couple! God there’s so many more. I could talk about other artists for ages, from all different genres of art. Daumier, Rockwell like every illustrator out there, Dana Gibson, Alex Toth, Hiroshi Yoshida, a lot of the Brandywine School. Lots of current working artists too, Karl Kerschl, frikkin Masashi Kishimoto lol, Jake Wyatt, Richie Pope, Edouard Caplain, Matt Cook, Sachin Teng, - lots of big internet artists, Sophie Li, Freddy Carrasco, Milliofish, Angela Sung... like all my friends from art school too. I could just keep going but I’ll stop for now lol.

24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.)

I mean if that’s how we’re defining shameful?? sure LOL. It’s not sprite comics but I used to do pokemon sprite recolors all the time. And I used to trace manga panels and color them... Granted this was all when I was like under 12 yrs old so it’s not even embarrassing. Can you really call it shameful when a 7 year old wets the bed or whatever? Not really. In fact some of these are cool as fuck. Look

25. Draw a picture!

Man I’m so tired now but here.

I used to get a lot of compliments for drawing people smiling lol but I don’t think I’ve drawn a lot of smiling lately.. here’s proof I’ve still got it.

OK MEME DONE. onto the rest.

I read this ask first thing when i opened my computer in the morning and it made me really emotional.. I’m so glad my sketches could help you!!

I think a lot of artists on social media talk about the struggle of making art but imo not enough people talk about the joy! Like I know it’s corny but. I really meant what I said at the beginning of that sketchbook about re-contextualizing art around process and progress > product and perfection. I think its super important..! The strength of messy, unfinished, and energetic art! For the feeling of it, for the love it!

That's crazy!!! I hope you like 'em. The whole line of x-books is really good rn imo.

Hi! I totally have the answer for digital stuff on my faq lol. But in terms of drawing on paper.. it varies! I tend to use sketchbooking and any on-paper doodling I do as a way to loosen up/warm-up or experiment. But right now my go-to aresenal is:

from top > bottom

- kuretake no.55 doublesided brush pen

- tombow fudenosuke

- muji 0.38 ballpoint

- medium size poscas

- grey tombow double brush pens

- good ol bic mechanical pencil

not EXACTly sure which inking you referring to from my sketchbook but if I had to take a guess it'd probably be the kuretake no55. That's been my main inker, lately. Great for sketching with the thin end too.

You can print out and eat my art if you like. Just please don't mass produce or re-sell. <3

Thanks! I've come to accept that my art is always gonna be sort of gestural and painty naturally. It's getting it to tighten up enough to be legible that's hard lol...

uh yeah lol I agree actually. I think yolei is great.

I assume these asks are related? LOL

1) Yeah totally true. I love David.

2) I don’t take requests, sorry! But if you want to commission me to draw Legion i would be MORE than happy to. Just e-mail me at isellhotdogs@gmail.com.

<33333333333333333333333333

[notasiren21]

To those who want to kill themselves:

I’m not going to sugarcoat this at all. I’ll be gentle at times and then rather aggressive. And for good reason...

Because you deserve to fucking live.

I’m aware there’s blatant bullying, discreet and subtle bullying that makes you question if you’re just being sensitive and taking things too seriously (most of the time you’re not, trust me), neglect, familial issues, and then situational instances that pound into your heart and head consistently.

Believe it or not, but the cliché term of “it does get better” is true, just as long as you yourself is willing to check its validity and try.

I thought of several ways like drowning myself in the bathtub and hoping my fingertips would slip on the rims so I couldn’t pull myself up when my body got weak/ holding a knife to my chest while crying/ contemplating on just taking those three steps into the road when I was supposed to get the mail/ jumping off my balcony/ finishing off my oxycodone pills from a wisdom teeth surgery/ etc.

Maybe I’m a coward or was weak, but I could never follow through with it. Just left with that same bottle lying in a medicine basket somewhere or had a brief puncture mark on my chest that just broke the skin with the tip, whatever.

Crying myself to sleep almost every night because it was too much.

Honestly, I think being a coward and weak was the best thing to happen to me.

I lost a boyfriend from how much my anxiety and suicidal thoughts consumed me and had to tell my parents why I was dumped which led to me seeing their faces when I fessed up and said “I’m not happy, I’m not okay”.

It’s funny because I’ve had a cry for help several times through stuff I’ve written and published on fanfic sites, stuff I’ve given to my teacher to read senior year, literally telling my AP Lit class two years ago I was depressed and thought suicidal shit (only 8 of us in that class and teacher) and being told “it’s just like that sometimes, gotta shake it off”, “don’t let people’s words get to you”, “yea, same” and having a teacher pretend like she heard nothing.

That one time I was brave, and I was waved off.

I know there are times where you finally find your voice for that one split second and then you’re ignored, and you feel yourself rescinding back to mute and distant.

I know you’re plastering a smile on constantly to fool others because you’re afraid what will happen when they find out.

It sucks, doesn’t it?

When you hear so many voices in your head playing that record on repeat of the things you most want to forget. Having those nightmares occur where someone takes the final step to push you to your edge. Seeing the annoyed rolling of eyes or blatant show of disinterest of you.

Nine years of schooling, because after 3rd grade, I was just one of those girls who females decided to hate for breathing or asking a question. So nine years I was trying not to victimize myself in my head and justifying why everyone acted the way they did to me.

Teenage girls and teachers alike made my life hell. The girls never gave me the chance and teachers treated me like I was some lost cause that couldn’t even make it to merit roll and like my work was shit.

“Oh, you sure you can make it into the media production film? I don’t think you’ll be able to make shows like you planned. Maybe try for something else.”

“Your writing is, it’s okay. Try harder next time.”

I struggled with grades in high school and wondered if I’d even graduate.

I made the president’s list my first year of college. Got straight A’s. My English professors loved to leave excited feedback on my essays and were amazed how quickly I could conjure one up and fix my own mistakes before peer review.

My professors talked about me to one another and when I met the new ones, they already knew of me.

My history professor begged me to write a poem for a book he’s writing and publishing near 2021.

My creative writing professor attacked me with an email of compliments over a chapter book of poems I wrote where i took them in the order written so it was me at my worst, to me fooling myself, to me losing and falling back, to me trying for help, to me being the best I’ve ever been. >I also made him cry in a class writing experiment with less than 300 words.

(Idk maybe the bitch is that sensitive but he was chill)

My point is: fucking block out what other people say or do to you. Tell someone you trust you need help and stop kidding yourself.

And please, for the love of god, if it is really that bad then do not make yourself so naive into believing a friend or partner can take the brunt of it all and fix you.

It may work for some time, but if you’re still suffering, they will too and neither of you will win in the end.

I took to therapy and it worked. And I dropped all the toxic shit out of my life and moved on.

I may not use social media besides Tumblr or Discord, but I’m more present in life than I was before and not comparing myself to others anymore.

I dropped friends that made me feel bad and bashed things I liked or would cause issues and I have a peace of mind (as much as one can have one during a pandemic and such).

Get the help. Find ways to receive help if you can’t financially afford it. Find that courage to tell someone you trust that listens to you that you are suffering and need that professional help and to be taken seriously.

I was the first to walk the graduation stage of my 2019 class, and I thought I’d be the first of us to die because I couldn’t move past everything I’ve endured from a large majority of them.

I would’ve missed how positively my life turned around.

I would’ve destroyed my parents, little sister, and brother for being so selfish.

I’m the middle child, the good kid with a career in mind and the mediator of the family. And I’m used to not being the favorite but appreciated one.

My dad confessed to me that I was his favorite and I never want to hear it again.

You never want to hear a man you see as the strongest person you know say that while trying not to cry and keep his voice normal, you don’t want to hear “You were always my favorite” said in such a thick voice it brings tears to your eyes.

Your life matters.

This isn’t Sims where you can move on to the next household member. This isn’t like throwing LEGO R2-D2 off a cliff with that iconic scream only or lose a few coins. This isn’t a fucking game.

And I am so sick of hearing people treat it like some quest you get once in your life:

“You’ll be okay.”

“Cheer up.”

“It’s just a phase.”

Etc.

It’s all fucking bullshit. We live in a world that sugarcoats the severity of someone’s life when it’s presented in front of us while on the precipice of shattering.

You deserve to live. Anyone who tells you otherwise is the one who loses the right to be considered human or a person, not you.

Do not let someone dictate your life’s outcome because they don’t agree with you or like you.

And please, for all that is good in this world, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re alright when you don’t feel it.

Hang in for one extra day to gather the strength and tell someone you need help.

Everyone acts so ashamed of it but it was the best thing that happened to me after being such a weak coward and now, I’m genuinely happy. And it was a lot of work to get here.

Want to know where all my angst and suffering had gone to? Just ask the characters in the books and fanfic content I’ve written. I’m sure they don’t appreciate it, but those stories wouldn’t exist if I gave up then.

And believe it or not, people will fucking miss you like hell if you killed yourself. It’s just too hard to see it right now and I was blinded before too.

Not everyone has the same opinion of you. Not everyone matters in your life.

You’re living this life singlehandedly by yourself while surrounded by others experiencing the same thing. Don’t let that opportunity go to waste.

And if you need distractions, indulge yourself in the harmless guilty pleasures like I do.

It can get better if you just open yourself to it.

It can get better if you get help.

You really must be so tired, isn’t it time you stopped pretending?

[millennial-star-gazer]

A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath: Chapter: 1 (Nalu Week 2020)

A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath

Nalu week 2020 Prompts: Voice, Flirt, Charm & Smile(All implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing: Nalu/Endlu (Natsu x Lucy & E.n.d. Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature/adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Discretion is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: God knows it was all fun and games at an outdoor guild party until a drinking contest results in a not-so-great time for a certain celestial wizard much to the dismay of a protective dragon slayer and company. Even worse is Lucy's hangover with some kind of mild flu and busted ankle to boot . At least a doting Natsu is more-than-willing to provide his mate plenty of TLC. One of my entries for @nalu-week 2020  and part of the Nalu-centric anthology series The Dragon Demon and His Celestial Princess anthology series (slight au/ canon divergent).

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Chapter 1: A Worthwhile Distraction

A/N: Hey guys, it's me again with my third entry for @nalu-week 2020 in the form of a new story and is also part of The Dragon Demon and His Celestial Princess anthology (TDDAHCP); series which is set shortly after the events of 100 years quest with said quest being completed in a matter of weeks or a few months (hence why it's slight au/canon divergent). Special thanks to @mannyegb again for helping me to edit and further develop this chapter. Now without further ado, here's the story-enjoy!

Scroll Down Past The Read More Button/cut for designated links and the actual chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which instead belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

Read  More  of This Fic and  on other  Platforms

Note: Copy and paste links into another browser tap if reading on desktop site

1.  A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath

A.  Tumblr

Chapter: 1   Next (Chapter) (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/624773467606319105/a-fire-dragon-his-princess-and-the)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13623735/1/A-Fire-Dragon-His-Princess-and-The-Not-So-Terrible-Party-Aftermath)

C. A03 (Click Here:) ( or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24802591/chapters/59983813)

3. Master Post  Of All My Writing And  Profiles (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post)

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Legend

Italics: Fantasy, flashback & literary/ song quotes

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: empathized word

Bolded Italics: outside of main story): A/N

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" The friction between my words and your fantasy is making the atmosphere erotic."

(Soraya Marcelo: Twitter)

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"There you go baby - everything's ready now. It should be perfect for tonight. A guild picnic at dusk and bonfire under the stars, was it?"

"Yep, that's what Mira told us. Even said so on the Magicbook * page for the event. My friends from other guilds like Sabertooth will be attending too— a bunch responded."

"Awesome baby!"

"It really is. Thanks for helping me get ready by the way, Cancer!"

"Anytime. Have fun tonight!"

"Will do— thank you! "

"All right-catch you later, baby!"

"See ya!"

" Wow—- You look beautiful, Luce."

Natsu's arms encircled Lucy's waist from behind with the soft pressure of his lips on her shoulder; which sent a tingly shiver down her spine.

"Not that ya' didn't before. He amended, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Not to mention those striking emerald eyes the celestial mage could drown in. "You always do."

Major fan of this whole look.

"I still can't believe I got such a gorgeous angel as my mate and queen. How am I this lucky?"

"Dunno. How'd you ever get so sentimental?" Lucy shot back, a teasing lilt to her words. (She couldn't help but lean back into his arms ). "If Gray could only hear you now ...but yeah, I really like all this too ."

Golden half-braided hair framed the face of Lucy's reflection in a floral-mini, skater dress; who was gazing back through a mirror. Topping the whole ensemble together was a pair of Grecian-style wedges on her feet that were to die for.

"Still can't believe you're officially mine" the dragon slayer breathed, voice thick with reverent awe. "I love you so much."

"L-love you too... hmm."

The celestial wizard let out a soft hum of bliss from the peppering of feathery-light kisses on her neck leading to her collarbone just after a nuzzle.

"Y-You trying to distract me Natsu?" she inquired, voice coming out as breathy to her own ears. God, the sensation of Natsu's scorching lips on the celestial mage's creamy skin was scattering all train of thought— almost too much to handle!

It's really hard to think right now...

"Hmm.. just maybe I am, sweetheart," came the dragonslayer's reply, timbre, a languid drawl against her skin. "Is it working?"

"Yes," was all Lucy could utter, eyes drifting shut from the sweep of his hand up the curve of her neck in a single caress. Oh and the appealing sensation of a blonde tendril being dragged through his deft fingers was an added bonus too!

"Good," The vibrations of the fire wizard 's throaty chuckle sent sparks ripping across the summoner's nerves; which effectively turned the celestial mage's knees to mush.

"That's what I was aiming for ."

"It is?"

"Yep. Did I mention how amazing you smell?" He rumbled, pulling another shiver out of his mate. "Your natural scent now permanently mixed with mine..."

Dear God, the enticing charisma of this man- so natural! Who was she deny the incredibly overpowering ecstasy exploding through her veins with how the demon hybrid's nose was pressed against the crook of her neck?.

"And is that a hint of jasmine perfume I'm catching a whiff of?"

"Mhmm..."  Goddamn-  how extremely apparent  that Lucy was pretty much rendered incapable of forming any type of response other than a single ,answering hum.

"Thought so-pretty intoxicating if ya' ask me."

"Um..."

It was then Lucy couldn't help but wonder what Natsu's ultimate end game was. No doubt the man was successful in efforts to ensare her with his devilish charms— but where did he intend for it to all lead? Did any of his plans entail steamy kissing marathons on the couple's bed? Slow-burn love-making beneath the sheets, wild romps all over their apartment? Just what if it could be?

Holy hell— that pulsating of liquid heat pulsating that shot between to the keyholder's core from the scintillant flash of images flooding her mind .

Supple digits unzipping the back of her dress, an insatiable Natsu pinning her against a wall, being lightly tossed onto the bed by said dominant dragon slayer, all-too-welcome lips leaving a high-voltage trail of electricity down her bare form before...

"Crap... the time."

Just for that little fantasy bubble to burst once Natsu pulled away from Lucy; who bit back a noise of protest at the loss of contact.

"Eh sorry, Luce," he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Didn't mean to lose track of the time like that. Either way, we should probably start heading over if we don't wanna be late."

"Okay..." Lucy let out a sigh, not able to stop the wave of mild disappointment from washing over her.

"Aw come on now, weirdo!" Natsu wheedled, light-hearted amusement coloring his tone. "No need to be so glum! Tonight's gonna be fun, remember?"

"I know." Lucy conceded, with a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Should be great to spend time with our friends from Fairytail and other guilds. " Her spirits couldn't help but be lifted by the pyro's sunny mood.

Him and that infectious grin of his...

"Great! That's the spirit!" He crowed , planting a light peck on Lucy's cheek;aka the reason for the slight flush of scarlet .

"Tonight's gonna be awesome !"

"It sure will ."

"Definitely!"

"Oh, and one more thing," Natsu paused to shoot Lucy a lingering glance. "Just a little tiny something."

" What that might be?"

"Your outfit. I was thinking that maybe it could use a little extra piece to complete the look? Like, say that necklace I gave you?"

" Oh… that gorgeous pendant? You know what, yeah! Great idea-Thanks Natsu!"

"My pleasure. And pretty sure I saw said pendant in your jewelry box. Lemme' grab it for you."

"Sure thing!"

"Great then- so it's settled!"

"You bet!"

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

A/N: Magicbook is a fictional social media app and site for all magic users and citizens in Earthland- aka the Fairytail equivalent of its counterpart in real life Facebook- in case anyone was wondering. Just a little sidenote about the chronological order for the timeline each fic in my TDDAHCP anthology series.

1. Fire And Gold(prequel)

2. Tantric Flames

3. A Dragon, His Princess and the Not-So Terrible Party Aftermath(this fic)

Figured I'd provide a little guide about the chronological order in terms of how each fic in this series takes place. Anyway, that's pretty much all for now until the next chapter. Hoped you enjoyed the first installment and please free to let me know what you think by dropping a review/comment!

Once again, don't forget to check out my other Nalu week entries along with the rest of my writing! Also be sure to stay tuned for chapter 3 of Fire and Gold which will be posted ASAP once I have a chance to finish the edits and format! Did I mention my other upcoming Nalu/FT projects in the works! Bet you're all fired now as Natsu would say! Oh and why not check out the rest of Nalu week submissions from the other incredibly talented writers and artists while you're at it? (Corresponding links to all my writing and profiles can be found above in this post, the navigation bar and bio if reading this on tumblr. Also on my respective FF and A03 accounts.) Thanks again to everyone for their incredible show of support ! Until next time-take care!

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Ok, so I know this topic is basically over and done with, but I just gotta point out the two confessions were one was like “I don’t tag I don’t tag BC I don’t want people to interact with me/my pics.” and the other that’s like “I don’t want people to see my doll” or whatever. Like, why the fuck are these people on a social meda platform then, where the point is that your pics are seen by other people? If you really don’t want random people to follow, or see your dolls, why the hell would you make an account on a site, or sies, that was literally just built for that exact purpose? It’s literally made to show random people pour pics, and you’re complaining about that exact function. These sound like the kinda people who go to an ice ream parlour, and then complain because the place doesn’t sell steak, and seafood. “But I need to keep track of my dolls!” If you don’t want people to see your dolls, just keep the pics for yourself, or make a spreadsheet to keep track of what you got. “But I only want certain people to see my pics!” Then join a discord group, or FB Group, neither tumblr, or Instagram were made for this type of selective pic sharing.

“But I wan’t new people to see my dolls too! I just don’t want random people to.” Then go to DOA, or the afformentioned groups. Instagram was made for random people to follow you, same with tumblr. Random and new are also kinda the same.

“I only want my followers to see the dolls, since only people who follow me should be able to see them.”(Or something like that.“ Well you’re certainly not gonna get any followers by no-tagging, and even followers migt get tired of that shit. In that case, make Your own discord just for your dolls, and invite your followers. ”But I wanna prevent people from randomly stumbling across my pics, I only want them to be see by a Select few.“ Pretty sure this is repetition, but please go back to the previously mentioned point of joining a group, or making your own discord.

"But what if people see, and then try and streal my oc/"my” doll?“ Stop being so conceited, no one gives enough of a shit about Your OC to go and steal them, and the doll sculpt isn’t yours, only that specfc copy you own. You sound like an entitled kid who throws a tantrum BC some other kid owns the same light-up sneakers, so you go tell to your mom so she can sue the kid fo daring to copy her "sweet angel”. “But what about pornbots, and other annoying type followers?” Block'em, or if you’re really that upset by this (sadly) common experience JOIN A GROUP. Most are moderated. “But I don’t want people constantly asking me about random stuff about my dolls, like sculpt, or company names!” Then tag it, seriously, people will ask way less. “People stil ask though.” Less people will ask, also, some people are just too stupid to check, but such is life, and the internet. <filled With dumb people.

“But it takes so long.” Man, those 3 or 4 extra Seconds it takes to add a tag really must be ruining Your quality of life. Then don’t use a site where tags are such a large part of the sites experience. I probably missed some things, or whatever, but I just don’t get the point of people complaining about the main features of social media platforms, as if it as an affront to them that these sites don’t cater to their specfic internet experience wishes, instead of just finding one that does, and tailoring their own experience. ~Anonymous

[paintedrecs]

For the fandom talk meme thingy: C (not trying to start drama I swear), I, K, R, and X. =D

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

Hmmm, there are a few ways of answering this. One is by listing all my NOTPs, which would be excessively long and ultimately boring because it essentially boils down to “anyone else with either member of my OTP.” I monoship my primary pairings, so I’m pretty strict on what I do and do not like. 

(With the way fandom is now, I should clarify that NOTP means that I personally do not like a ship and I therefore go out of my way to avoid it - by muting terms, carefully filtering tags and search results, curating my own space, etc. It doesn’t mean I think the ship is badwrong or that anyone else should stop shipping it. It just means I do not ever want to see it.)

This feels a little less specific on that front, though, maybe more just: people like this and I’m meh about it?

So Allydia comes to mind. I don’t hate it, and if the Sterek’s good enough I’ll still read a fic with them as a background pairing, but I don’t ever like it as a romantic ship. While I ship Lydia with lots of different characters, including Cora, I’ve always seen Allison as straight, so I suppose that’s part of it? And I love Lydia & Allison as bffs - I see them as entirely platonic, like Scott & Stiles, so introducing romance just doesn’t work for me.

Another one is Sheriff Stilinski/Peter Hale. I...I don’t understand it. Unlike the last answer, this background pairing will prevent me from reading a Sterek-central fic.

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

This turned into a complicated and kind of roundabout answer, so I’m putting the rest of the questions under a long-post cut!

I stopped frequenting tumblr for two main reasons:

that whole weird purge thing that made me think everyone was leaving, so I just gave up, which might’ve been premature cause it seems like folks are still going strong on here

the emergence of antis, specifically within the Voltron fandom (although they’re everywhere at this point)

There’s a saying in fandom now: 

“Why is the younger fandom generation like this?!??” “Tumblr raised them.”

For me, for years, tumblr was a really wonderful space where I had a lot of great conversations and read very thoughtful threads that helped me to learn some important things about myself, other people, and a world much wider than my own.

But I was an adult when I joined this site, and it really does seem like there’s a whole new crop of kids who have no actual context for ideas like social justice, the need for canonical representation in our media, and a lot of other things that eventually got folded into a big ball of disconnected rhetoric that they now fling as hard as they can at the heads of fandom creators who are committing the ultimate sin of creating content for ships they don’t like.

It’s late, and I don’t feel like getting into a whole Essay Rant about all that.

So on an entirely personal level, I quit running appreciatejack (my Check Please/zimbits/Jack Zimmermann blog) because someone sent me really vile hate for daring to ship Shiro/Keith from Voltron (two unrelated adults in a cartoon). It’s why I turned my ask boxes/anon/chats off on most of my blogs, and then eventually just...got tired of running them.

When I started up appreciatederek, I got a couple asks from people who wanted to know if it was going to be multiship or just Sterek, and when I said it was Sterek, they presumably went off to find other things they were into, because I never heard from them again. Y’know, the reasonable reaction. And then the rest of it was wonderful: finding content for it, and getting responses from people who enjoyed that content.

I thought appreciateshiro would be similar, but it was all so messy from the very start. The Sheith tag was FULL of hate. I was initially checking it every day, trying to find artists and writers and gif-makers to reblog and encourage and support, like I’d done in Sterek fandom, but instead I’d spend literal hours blocking people who came into that tag just to talk about how much they hated the ship.

Every day, I’d look for content for my OTP, and every day I’d come away from it angry and sad and frustrated. I never seemed to run out of people to block. And they never, ever seemed to run out of hate.

It was exhausting. It made me reluctant to go on tumblr at all. And eventually I just...sorta stopped.

So the answer to this question is more, I guess, “fandom made me stop liking tumblr, and in the process I stopped liking most fandoms.”

I’m sure you can kinda tell from the fandoms I’m currently the most invested in.

I love Sterek, and I will always love Sterek. Part of that’s the ship itself, of course, and part is because I had an incredible fandom experience with it. People within this fandom are still really great - always so welcoming and super excited about new content, even so many years on.

Otherwise, my current fandoms are kiiiiinda tiny:

Xanatowen (Gargoyles), which currently consists of exactly 2 people and 12 fics (3 of which are mine).

Trevorcard (Castlevania), which only has ~200 fics on AO3.

Taibani (Tiger & Bunny), which is an oldish fandom with only ~600 fics on AO3.

Remember, I came from a fandom that has SIXTY THOUSAND fics.

So while I feel very lonely and very sad about the low content levels in these fandoms, they’ve also given me the space to let go of some of my fandom hurt & anger and remember what it’s like to just...peacefully love something. I really miss just loving things and talking about loving those things and searching for other people who also love those things without running into....thousands upon thousands of people who HATE that you love that thing.

(Until I wrote all that out just now, I actually hadn’t realized how much this had still been hanging over me, or why I was so hesitant to come back to “reclaim” a space I’d once been super active and happy in. Essay over! Next questions.)

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Answered here!

R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom?

Answered here! 

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

Found family. This is probably a big part of why Sterek was my first real fandom, because the idea of Pack makes it incredibly natural to build out relationships beyond just the central romantic pairing. 

It doesn’t have to be a werewolf thing, though. I’m honestly not hugely fond of the whole puppy piles concept - I’m less interested in “biological urges make characters literally physically all snuggle up together in bed” than I am in the actual build of the friendships, and the concept of choosing people who will become the family you’ve been missing for whatever reason.

Maybe it’s reconnecting with biological family, or maybe it’s discovering that your friends have been filling that space for you all along, without you even fully realizing it. (The concept of “home” is another big one for me. Home is where your heart is etc etc.)

And hey! Now I can pull back in another question from earlier: about “pairings” that I might not have initially considered. As I suspected, I do have more! Mostly platonic.

For instance: Derek and Sheriff Stilinski becoming bffs. I thiiiink I can probably tie my ABSOLUTE LOVE of this concept back to HalfFizzbin’s can't be hateful, gotta be grateful. And then Cupboard Love really has to be the source of ALL my alive!Hales feels, which also includes folding Stiles into their family.

Fic is largely responsible for building out Derek’s relationship with Boyd, Erica, Isaac, his sisters...making them into an actual pack and friends and family in the way the show never bothered. And frankly while I don’t like canon!Scott at all at this point, I love his friendship with Stiles in fics, and I absolutely believe Stiles and Lydia would be amazing friends once he got past his crush on her. I’d point to another fic here, owlpostagain’s will to follow through, as the ultimate source for major Team Human feels.

So yeah. I’m always going to be drawn to stories about family, in whatever form that takes, particularly if it’s one that’s a little bit off the normal white-picket-fence path.

In Tiger & Bunny, it’s Barnaby joining the Kaburagi family, and learning how to be a dad and a friend to his new husband’s daughter.

In Gargoyles, I’m completely obsessed with the (canonical!) idea of a family that consists of a man, his wife, their son, and the chaotically loyal fae babysitter/tutor/third parent. It is not a stretch to tweak this the tiiiiiiniest bit to turn it into a nontraditional family structure of a man, his wife, his son, and his fae boyfriend. Honestly.

In Castlevania, the fic that made me sob my eyes out at one point does something the show would absolutely never. It gives Alucard the time to rebuild his physical home while befriending the people in the little town that crops up around it. It’s about Trevor and Alucard falling in love, but it’s also about them making a place for themselves in a world where that kind of comfort and stability and friendship is so badly needed.

I think we all kinda need that in our world right now. So I love being able to find it in fic, for the characters who’ve grown to mean something to me.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅?

been watching criminal minds lately and this guy does things to me😩

summary - you think your boss hates you but maybe it’s something else…

warning - slight sexual innuendos/tension, feeling hated, mentions of slight violence.

18+ only please, the gif and divider I use isn’t mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You thought he hated you and you didn’t have a clue why. Whenever you entered the room, he always seemed to grow angry. Did he question your position on the team?

You walked into the BAU, coffee in hand and a tired expression on your face. You couldn’t count how many times your boss kept you up, the thoughts and conclusions about him nagged you throughout your day and night. You had dreams that he kept you up in other fun ways but the universe wasn’t with you on this.

“L/N.” You blink, zoning back in as you nearly bump into someone. Your gaze moves up, feeling your insides twist at the sight of that damned beard. “Is it that hard to watch where you are going? Or are you planning to knock everyone down as you go?”

You cleared your throat, clutching your coffee tighter. “No sir. I wasn’t paying attention, it won’t happen again.”

His glare somehow hardens, you couldn’t help but wonder how one man could make you feel so small when you’ve built yourself up to never feel small again. “It better not. We don’t need an agent to be zoning out when we are out in the field.”

Before you can respond, he turns and heads up to his office. You stare ahead, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

“You alright, Y/n?” You hum, seeing Derek standing in front of you.

“Yeah,” You nod. “Just can’t wait to get this day over with.” You sigh, shaking your head and walk with him.

You let out a breath, the case had finally been solved and you guys caught the killer. You groaned as you relaxed into the jet, your muscles screaming to be stretched and massaged, your eyes fighting to stay open but you didn’t want to let your guard down even with your team. Especially not when Hotch sat across from you, his eyes never seeming to leave your form.

You didn’t even let out a sigh of relief when the plane landed, you were so tired and you still had paperwork to do when you got back. With a groan, you followed everyone else, the one man that keeps you anxious making sure to stay behind you even though he had every chance to go before you. Your eyes rolled when you notice everyone else leave in one car, leaving you and Hotch to drive together.

You hop into the passenger seat, resting your head against the glass. Unable to relax with the strange tension in the air, your eyes moved as you watched the scenery pass by before the car finally came to a stop. Just as you’re about to get out, Hotch speaks.

“Agent. What you did was reckless.”

Your brows furrow, wondering what you had done? The unsub had tackled you? Or did you miss something?

“Coming to work exhausted and unfocused is not what is expected when you work on my team. You put your life and the team’s life at risk.”

You turn, a frown and glare on your face. “Are you serious, Hotch?” You shake your head, hand grabbing the door handle and letting the door swing open as you stepped out. Without another word, you slam the door behind you, sick and tired of being hated for no reason.

You gasp as you’re suddenly pulled back and pressed against the car, eyes immediately connecting with Hotch’s as he looms over you. His eyes dark, mouth set into a frown. His hand slowly moves to your throat, resting it there. “You didn’t let me finish.” Your thighs press together as you try to swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “I can’t be distracted with making sure you’re okay while we’re out in the field.”

You blink, trying to clear your mind as your brows furrow. “….What?”

Were you wrong this whole time?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[beautifulletdownfics]

‘someday, someday’ :: tumblr edition, #27

In hindsight, given what was happening, I shouldn’t have answered my phone to the unknown number.

The week after we returned from New York was a whirlwind. Harry and I spent our first day back holed up together at his house, snoozing through jet lag and doing our laundry from the trip. I went straight back to rehearsals the day after that, fighting off a tickle in my throat I was adamant wasn’t going to turn into any kind of seasonal head-cold. Harry spent two days in his UK management office, sorting out all the paperwork and legal aspects of him working on his March EP in London with Rodger’s studio before he was straight to work writing and recording.

At some point, I would be joining him in the studio because, as Rod from his management company had alluded to in New York, Harry was hoping to include the song that I helped him with his new releases. He wanted to give me full writer's credit which I was instantly opposed to, but Harry was adamant that without being able to credit my contribution he wouldn't release the song. It was a beautiful song and as much as I was uncomfortable being included, it felt like daylight robbery to have it die because of me.

Alongside that, my dad arrived in town, and in-between my own rehearsals I managed to sneak into his and sit in on him working with the London Symphony. I spent most nights having dinner with him near his hotel and then getting the tube back to my own house because Harry was either out or had already crashed for the night and I didn’t have the heart to disturb his sleep patterns.

Between all this, it was increasingly becoming harder to ignore the chatter that seemed to be following me. I was more and more finding myself ignoring message notification on my phone, avoiding surfing any news sites, and I’d disabled what felt like every possible setting on my social media accounts. Friends from Blackpool and Cambridge were reaching out about Gavin and what he was saying, and more than a few of them were asking questions about Harry. I felt like I was the gatekeeper to some ridiculous secret everyone wanted details on, and what was making me feel sick about it was that, at this stage, the assumption in the gossip mill was simply that I knew Harry. Nobody had run far enough with the whole idea to predict I might be anything other than friends with the famous pop star.

I spent the whole week looking forward to the weekend. Friday night and Saturday were booked doing nothing in particular with Harry. Saturday evening would be spent with Harry, Rodger, Max, Gemma and Ned watching my Dad conduct the London Symphony Orchestra. And Sunday was reserved for spending at Harry’s dealing with whatever hangover resulted from the night before.

So really, answering an unknown caller on Friday just as I was about to text Harry I was on my way and walk into the tube was a stupid move.  It was almost certainly going to be someone that I definitely did not want to talk to; still, there was some part of my brain who thought perhaps it was someone from the orchestra whose number I hadn’t saved yet or a call about an appointment I forgot I made.

“Nina, as I live and breathe,” Gavin’s voice was smooth and precise in my ear, “You really did block me number, huh.”

I stopped walking and turned on my heel, trying to escape but having nowhere to go. I briefly considered hanging up out of sheer panic, but I didn’t like the precedence that set. Before I could figure out what the hell to do, he continued speaking. Holding my trumpet case in one hand and the phone in the other, I ducked into a shop alcove and stared blankly at the passing people in disbelief.

“You’re a tricky woman to get a hold of these days,” He crooned, “Shacking up with a pop star has changed you.”

"Gavin," I said, my voice shaking in a way I couldn't control, "What can I help you with?"

"Straight into assuming I need something from you," Gavin said with a tut, "I was calling to congratulate you. I underestimated you, which isn't something I care to admit."

I tried to give my voice a chipper edge, "That's big of you."

"What I can't figure out though is what he gets out of it," Gavin asked, sounding pleased with himself, "Styles doesn't strike me as needing numbers in the symphonic community."

"You don't know the first thing about Harry," I snapped quickly, immediately regretting it.

"Clearly," Gavin agreed eerily quickly, I'd played right into his hands, "Although no, that's probably not entirely fair to say. On paper, you're a catch. He'd have to have an ego on him, lesser men have fallen into the same trap."

"Gavin," I breathed out, losing my patience with his bating me. My heart was racing, and I turned back into the tube just so I could find somewhere to sit. "Why are you calling?"

"Just checking in," He said defensively, "Been getting loads of questions about you and wanted to speak to the legend herself. Couldn't believe Leon when he saw you at New Years, I was sorry to miss it."

"You're getting questions because you practically begged for the attention," I whispered quickly, suddenly surrounded by other people waiting for the train to pull up.

"Hey," He sneered down the phone, "I can share whatever the fuck I want online, hear me? It's not like Harry fucking Styles is going to sacrifice his perfect little media identity to correct the record for your sorry arse. Not that I technically said anything he needs to get his knickers in a twist about."

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," Gavin all but spat, "What on earth could you possibly have that I would want? It's pathetic to see really, you sucking off The Man to land that interview. Seems I was right, classical music can only get you so far ... You've had to get yourself a famous boyfriend to get anywhere."

"I was in the orchestra before Harry—"

"—Keep telling yourself that, love," He laughed.

"Gavin, just leave me alone, okay? Just ... Don't say shit online about Harry or me. You got the career you wanted, just back off mine, okay?"

"You owe me," He barked, "What on earth makes you think you can tell me how this is going to go?"

Dozens of other conversations with the same tone started layering over in my head, memories from years ago that had taken a long time to write over suddenly crashed through my mind and seized me up inside. He was just the same as always, and having been away from Gavin for so long supplied the harsh reality it—of what he had always been like—that much more jarring. I stopped speaking, which always resulted in Gavin's poison gaining momentum. I found a seat on the tube and pushed myself as far against the glass as I could, adrenalin was making my legs weak, and my eyes star.

"Do you know how embarrassing it was to have my girlfriend go fucking crazy and fall off the deep end?" He continued.

"I'm not crazy," I said weakly, feeling my eyes heat and my throat constrict.

He laughed sarcastically, "Love, you went full One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, we all know it. Jesus Christ, the questions I got when you fucked off. Humiliating is an understatement, I—."

With shaking hands, I held my phone out in front of my face, hearing him continuing to speak but not understanding the words correctly. I pressed the hang-up button and hurrying to go into my call log and block the number. After my phone was safely on aeroplane mode, I slipped it under my thigh and looked out the window at the black tunnel passing by, my own reflection staring back at me.

I looked crazy.

+++

I loved the London underground.

On weekend nights everyone is dressed up and smells terrific, the carriages are dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights, and there’s an air of something intrinsically seductive and winsome. Business people coming home have the relieved look of people who have earned their weekend breaks, and people on their way out have a joyous look of the pending release.

It can be so relaxing, and it's the only place in the world I have ever enjoyed the company of strangers. Because they're non-threatening, and I know they’re not expecting anything from me. I can be invisible, hiding behind anonymity and the simple fact that everyone has somewhere to be, people to meet and life to live.

I distracted myself with these thoughts as I sat on the train, swinging between digesting the call with Gavin and pretending it didn't happen by watching the people of London around me. I hadn't been paying attention to the train I got on and ended up heading in the opposite direction I usually did. I stumbled out of the carriage at some point and changed direction back into the city.

But when the Baker St underground came, I didn’t get off like I should have.

I needed to get on the Hammersmith and City line, but when Baker St came and disappeared again, and I was still firmly planted in my spot in the carriage. I did a quick calculation in my head and figured I could get off at Edgeware Rd, the next stop, and then go back.

But I didn’t.

I completely froze.

The station spun by, and the train breathed with passengers going off and new ones getting on.

Four stops came and went that way. I sat clasping my phone in my lap and trying everything I could to calm my thudding heart enough to allow me to get out at the next stop. I had to get off, I had to call Harry.

Or Max. Or Rodger. My dad. Anyone.

But I was sat on a train on the other side of London to them all. I told Harry I would let him know when my rehearsals finished for the day to see if he was still working with Rodger or if he was already heading home. If he was still with Rodger, we had plans to get dinner nearby before heading to North London where his home was. If Harry was already on his way home, I was going to get the tube to him.

An announcement came over the carriage speakers saying that the next stop, Shepherd’s Bush Market, was the last of the line and all passengers needed to disembark.

Ten minutes later, I found myself standing outside the station, trying to create an idea in my head of what was around this area. It was nearing seven o’clock by this stage, and the only thing I knew would be open was London Westfield, just a short walk away.

I put my phone into my blazer pocket, trying to forget I owned it at all, and followed the crowd into the shopping centre, my instrument case heavy at my side.

Most of the shops were shut, or closing, but the centre stayed open late for the cinema and restaurants dotted throughout.

I walked through numbly, my eyes flitting around all the different exhibits and stores. Most of them were familiar, but there was a level of comfort in the fact there were only a handful of other people I was sharing the space with. I liked being able to hear my heels click on the shiny floors, and the way the music playing through the speakers could be easily deciphered.

I recognised the Ed Sheeran song currently playing, but it was hearing another melody cut over it that halted me in my spot, and I wondered how it had been able to sneak up on me.

‘Romanza’ by Chopin.

A song more familiar to me than any pop song, one that had been familiar for years in a style that was as easy as breathing for me to inhabit.

My steps automatically quickened, and I found myself darting my gaze around, trying to follow the sound. I turned a final corner and hit what Rodger liked to refer to as the ‘Paris End’ of Westfield, where all the high end and designer stores were. The lighting up here was softer, the stores were guarded and underneath an impressive crystal chandelier was a black Bösendorfer grand piano.

There were armchairs arranged in a circle to the side of the piano, and I slowly slipped myself into one, putting my case down and not taking my eyes of the young man playing exquisitely for the whole shopping centre to hear. The acoustics were amazing.

With a small nod and a smile, he acknowledged my arrival but went back to his former state; eyes

closed, back swaying back and forward, and a blissfully serene look on his face. I was jealous of him.

The calmness of the piece eventually overtook me as well, and I rested my head back comfortably and shut my eyes to really hear what was being played. My heartbeat slowed, and the noise in my head disappeared. The scratchiness of my trousers and the damage my simple, black boots had done my feet disintegrated with it.

All that existed was a beautiful piano concerto being played, and my witnessing it.

Halfway through Debussy’s ‘Reflects Dan L’eau’ when I snapped back into the present by the bungle of three completely wrong notes, all in quick succession to each other. My eyes fluttered open and the way the shiny, reflective roof of the shopping centre took several moments to clear from my blurry eyes told me they had been shut for quite a while.

“Thought you’d drifted off, Miss,” he called out through a smile, slowing his playing and speaking over the piano. Something in the glint in his eye told me he knew messing up the notes would be the fastest way of catching my attention. His eyes fell on the instrument case at my feet.

“No,” I mumbled, sitting up straighter and watching as he nodded politely and then went back to concentrate on his playing, “I was just listening ...” I added quietly to myself.

The fact that he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in why I was there, or why I didn’t appear to be making any move to leave pleased me. He simply went back to his playing, and I didn’t see him look my way again.

7:48pm, my phone screen read and when I turned aeroplane mode off the screen lit up with two missed calls from Harry and a string of texts, along with a missed call from Max.

5:12 Hiya, we're wrapping up now, I can swing by Southbank and pick you up for half-past? x

5:25 Sorry, make that 6. Traffic is shocking.

5:38 You're usually finished by now, everything okay?

6:10 Have I completely forgotten something I shouldn't have? Were you going to see your dad?

6:38 Babe, you're worrying me. Call me back x

He was worried, and I felt sick for it. Watching Harry's regular interactions with me and how he was going about a typical Friday night barely felt real. I didn’t know what I felt about what Gavin had said to me, but I knew that as soon as I pinpointed one emotion, the avalanche of all the rest would ensue. And following that would be an overriding sense of panic.

Panic was coming already though, seeping through the gaps and crevasses, damaging the wall blocking out what I was feeling. Because worrying about fear only brought it on faster, making it stronger. It was that double-edged sword of knowing something was coming but then inadvertently making it occur sooner.

I leant forward with my elbows on my knees and my head resting in my hands, putting all my attention on placing my feet in their black heels as close together and perfectly aligned as I could. My phone screen lit up on my lap, and my eyes were drawn to it before I could make myself ignore it.

Everything in me was screaming to call him but because I didn’t know what I would say to him I hesitated. All my mind could make my body focus on was the music swirling around me. It felt like a small miracle to have found it immediately after my conversation with Gavin, to have ended up on this armchair, under a crystal chandelier in the great hall of London Westfield listening to the greats; to Chopin, and Rachmaninoff, and Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. They were being played by a stranger I had never seen before and would never see again but for the last hour everything he had been telling me—everything he was saying through the notes his fingers were commanding—made sense to me. For the last hour, this had been my language, and he was the only other person in the world speaking it.

I looked back down to my phone on my lap. I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t want to. My chest hollowed, blood rushed to my feet, but my thumb was swiping across the glass surface despite the pooling dread.

Harry answered immediately.

“Hey, I've been worried, what's going on?” He urged in a hushed but desperate tone.

“I’m sorry, I'm okay,” I traced the line of my trousers with my thumbnail nervously. I wondered if Harry was at home or not.

I heard him take a deep breath, “You’re okay?” There were a few beats of silence, “Where are you,

Nina?”

“London Westfield,” I said softly.

“London ...” He paused, his voice almost sounding received for a moment like he could conjure a reason why I might have gone there, “Why are you out there?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered pathetically, but it was true. The line was silent for a few painful minutes.

"I'm confused."

"Can I come over?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Of course," he said quickly, "What's wrong, though? Has something happened?"

"I'm not crazy," I told Harry.

"You're not," Harry said carefully, I clamped my eyes shut knowing I was putting him in a shitty position, "What's happened? I'll come and pick you up."

“Harry, you don't need to—”

“—I'm already in the car," He told me, "Now, tell me what's wrong."

I let out a frustrated sigh and tears slip out despite my telling myself not to, "It's stupid."

"Not if you're this upset by it."

"I spoke to Gavin."

"You spoke to ... What? How? Where was he?"

"Not in person," I corrected Harry, I could hear the sound of his car in the background, "He called on an unknown number, and I was stupid enough to answer. I know I shouldn't have—

“—Nina, what did he say?” Harry said evenly, but the directness of the question hit me square in the chest.

"I don't want to think about it."

"I'm fifteen minutes away. Please tell me, I don't want this fucker getting between us."

Slowly, I recounted the phone conversation to Harry, who quietly listened without interrupting. It was more upsetting the second time around, I found myself unable to believe it happened. To think I had let myself be treated that way at any point was shameful and by the time I finished telling Harry, I very much wished I hadn't started.

"I'm sorry," Harry said through a sigh, "You're not crazy, and you don't owe him a thing. Did he threaten you at all?"

I thought back over it all, "No, but I don't think hanging upon him was a good idea. He'll say more online now."

"And he'll only look like a bigger dickhead," Harry grumbled, "Hanging up was the right thing to do, you don't have to listen to his shit anymore, Nina. I've just parked, where are you?"

I told Harry my location as best I could, not having to wait very long for him to appear in my line of vision behind the piano player. He spotted me almost immediately as well, his face pulled into a frowned, worried one that I felt guilty for creating. Still, there was a lifting inside my chest at seeing him. His hair was slightly damp from a shower, and he was in comfortable clothes. I stayed seated until he was a few steps away, and my name fell from his lips, then I was up on my feet and pressed against his chest within moments.

Harry's arms wound around my back, and he rested his chin on the top of my head, "You are amazing and beautiful and talented and so loved, Nina. What he says doesn't count anymore. We're going to get you a new phone number, and if he starts spurting any more shit online, we'll take things further."

"I feel so stupid," I said quietly. "How did I let Gavin into my life in the first place?"

Harry cupped my face in his hands and bent down to be at my eye level, "We're not torturing ourselves with those kinds of thoughts, Nina. We're going back to celebrating that article because I won't have you shrinking yourself because of anyone else, myself included."

I looked at him for a few moments, seeing nothing but sincerity and belief there.

"I should have called you earlier." A smile teased his lips, "Yeah, but you called me, so that's a win."

"I'm sorry."

Harry placed a soft kiss against my lips, "Not necessary. You hungry? I'll buy you chicken nuggets on the way home."

+++

Royal Festival Hall was completely sold out.

My dad organised incredible floor seats for the six of us. Harry and I met Rodger, Max, Gemma and Ned at a restaurant nearby for dinner beforehand, so by the time, we arrived for the performance we were all well into enjoying each other's company.

As we followed an usher down the aisle to be shown our seats, Harry shuffled up behind me and took my hand in his, "Did I say yet how stunning you are?"

"Yes," I kept my eyes ahead but tilted my mouth his way so I could say it quietly, "You did."

"Phew," He said dramatically, squeezing my fingers. "Just checking."

By some incredible force of nature, Harry managed to pull me from the rut I was sure I was destined for before it happened. We spent the night before, at his house, I had a bath, and we watched 101 Dalmatians afterwards, Harry gently prodding me every so often to measure where I was at. I cried a few more times, Gavin's harsh words ringing in my ears even when I woke up the next morning.

Harry dragged me out of the house early, he went for a run while I walked through the Heath loosely following him. He ran literal laps around me and despite all his best attempts, he wasn't able to convince me to join him for anything more rigorous.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, and it was time to start getting ready for dinner with my flatmates and Gemma and Ned, I felt reassured and nearly entirely back to normal. The ugliness still existed somewhere, but Harry managed to drag me into the present and firmly plant me there. Nothing Gavin had said to me changed Harry or me.

I took a quick photo of the stage from our seats and sent it through to my family group chat. Harry leaned over from his seat next to me and briefly dropped his head on my shoulder. He watched my screen as I sent my brother a rude emoji and then sent my dad a good luck text. I was beside myself with excitement at the prospect of watching him lead this calibre of an orchestra.

"Open your girls chat," Harry rumbled right by my ear. Without thinking I did as I was told, fingers hovering over the screen, waiting to see what Harry would say to me to type. "Tell them to keep the first weekend of February free, I'd like them to come down for my birthday if they'd like to."

"Harry," I turned my head to look at him, "Really?"

"Yeah," He nodded earnestly, "I haven't really planned anything yet, but I'll do something. I'd like them there."

"Not just for my sake?"

"Not just for your sake," Harry reassured, "They're your people, and so they mean a lot to me as well."

Ladies, Harry's birthday is in a few weeks, and he'd love it if you could make it?

"Tell them there'll be free accommodation, food and alcohol," He nudged me, nodding at the iMessage I just sent. "I'll pay for them to fly down if that's easier. They can stay at mine."

"You don't have to do that, Harry, they'll come down on the train."

Harry dropped his palm onto my thigh, "I don't want to put them out. And it's not cheap getting down here, I know."

All expenses covered, so he says. The first weekend in Feb. He's offering tours of his linen cupboard as well. x

Harry laughed as he read over my shoulder, "Good one."

"Thanks," I replied brightly, locking the phone after checking it was on silent and dropping it into Harry's suit pocket between us. "And thank you for inviting them ... You and them getting on is a big deal to me."

"I know."

"I've had to unpack a lot of shame after Gavin, and I've always been wary of what they might think of me seeing someone else, whether they’d trust me again," I told him.

Harry squeezed my thigh, "I'm happy you have them. They're mad about you."

"Mad is right," I rolled my eyes, "You may come to regret inviting them. Once there's an open bar, not a lot can stop Bel and Georgie."

He wriggled his eyebrows at me, "Sounds brilliant."

Just as I was about to reply the house lights dropped and a hush came over the concert hall. Before the announcements started I curled my hand around to the other side of Harry's face and directed it towards me, he had just enough time to blink down at me in the dark before I pulled him closer for a kiss.

"Thank you," I said, pressing my lips against his again, "You're magic."

He gave me a dopey smile and then took my hand in his, resting it on his thigh gently. I stole it back from him briefly a few moments later to join the applause for my dad walking out onto the stage. The suite was Haydn’s ‘An Imaginary Orchestra Journey’ by Sir Simon Rattle, and I knew it was one of his favourites. That was the benefit of being the level my father was, he could walk into the London Symphony Orchestra and tell them what to play.

The orchestra was led through a warm-up, bubbling my chest and had me wriggling in my seat in excitement. Then, my dad turned to face the audience and stepped up to the microphone.

“Good evening,” He said, “My name is Richard Lawrence, and I’m so delighted to be here on holiday with you from my home at the Chamber Orchestra of Europe,” He smiled as the room swelled into applause again, “Thank you. We have a fun one for you tonight, I know! An orchestra having fun what a scandal!” The players chuckled behind him, “We’re bringing you a selection from Franz Joseph Haydn’s best movements, compiled by my good friend Sir Simon Rattle. This is ‘An Imaginary Orchestra Journey’.”

He turned back to his orchestra and raised his arms, waiting for the applause to come to a close before he dramatically dropped his hands and picked them up again, bringing the opening notes of the suite with him.

It wasn’t a suite that I didn’t have committed to memory, so sitting and listening on almost new ears was transformative. The players were fantastic, which I already had insight into having sat in on a few rehearsals throughout the work. Soloists propped the whole body up, and I shivered my way through parts. My dad was right, though, it was a fun suite.

“This is so cool,” Harry whispered into my ear halfway through. I turned to face him, and in the dim light, he watched the tears streaming down my face, Harry’s lips curved up and he scrunched his nose at me. He took my hand in his and turned back to keep watching.

By the end of the performance, I was on my feet applauding dad with hands in the air, and my makeup all cried off. I got a wink and a wave from my dad who searched us out in the audience at final bows. Arrangements were already made about where we needed to go afterwards to meet him, given that there were so many musicians in the greenrooms going backstage was tricky, I was given instructions as to how to get into the conductor's studio.

After giving my name at a fire exit, an assistant led us through greenrooms to a back suite that sat under the stage.

"This is incredible," Harry said, stepping in behind me and taking in the room, "This is definitely one of the best green rooms I've ever been in."

"It's pretty swish," My dad said happily from the other side of the room, his suit jacket draped over the small sofa, "I suppose if I pretended it might feel quite rock and roll."

"You were amazing, dad," I told him, rushing over for a hug, "Your players were incredible, and you kept them together, magnificently."

"Thank you, my sweet," He smiled, graciously accepting repeated congratulations from everyone else. I introduced him to Gemma and Ned, who both thanked him profusely for their tickets. "Now, what are you all up to now?" Dad asked us all, "I'm getting taken out by a few of the board, and I'm sure I could bring a posse such as yourselves?"

"We need to head off, unfortunately," Gemma spoke up first, "Ned is on night shift tomorrow."

Similarly, Rodger and Max both had either early work commitments or a big day ahead of them so didn't want a late night.

"We'll come," Harry offered readily, looking down at me, "Right?"

"If it's really not an issue?" I asked.

"It's absolutely not, my dear," My dad said, "And I dare say taking you both along will impress them enough to have me easily in work for the next decade. If you can just give me fifteen minutes to change and go see my players, I'll meet you in the Foyer."

The group said their farewells and Harry, and I joined them, we stood in the foyer for a while chatting. Gemma gave me a hug with the promise of catching up during the week without the boys. Then, it was just Harry, and I left waiting in a near-empty foyer.

"I stand by my comments months ago about loving seeing you cry over music," Harry told me once we were alone, resting his elbows on the cocktail table we were sitting at, "It's magic. I adore it."

I grinned, "My crying my way through our first date does make for a good story."

"I'm disappointed not to have made you cry myself with my Christmas gig," Harry smirked at me, "I have a right mind to be offended."

"Get an orchestra behind you and I just might," I returned quickly.

+++

Four days later, Harry was standing at the front desk chatting to a receptionist when I arrived at the recording studio. She spotted me immediately, and Harry followed where her attention left him for, an instant smile appearing on his face.

“Hello!” He called out to me, pushing off where he had been comfortably leaning against the desk to take a couple of steps towards me.

“Hi,” I gushed, trumpet case under my arm and a heavy backpack from rehearsals slipping off my arm.

“Let me take that,” Harry took the bag from my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug with his other arm, “Hi,” He kissed my head, and the leant back to look at me, “You get here okay?” I’d been here before to see Rodger, but instead of pointing that out, I smiled and nodded.

“I’ve got your pass,” Harry said, whipping a lanyard out of his pocket and adorning my neck with it before he took my hand and started walking, “Thanks, Jen!” He called back over his shoulder as we left the entrance.

Harry was bringing me in to work on the song that I contributed to all those months ago. I really didn’t know what more I was expected to do, from what Harry told me about his last week or so writing it was the lyrics of the song that he was working on the most. Numerous times I’d told him I didn’t need credit, but he was adamant.

“In here,” Harry directed me to a door, and he dropped my hand to prop it open for me, “After you.”

I walked in and immediately froze, there had to be at least ten or twelve people in the room. Harry nudged me in gently, making a quip about not lurking in doorways. He walked into the left where there was a large sitting area, the studio directly in front.

“Babes,” Rodger was to the right in front of the sound desk, I recognised the tech working with him who also gave me a nod.

“Hey,” I said, siding up to Rodger but throwing a tentative look back over my shoulder where Harry was in the middle of the bulk of the people in the room. “I’m—

A warm hand slipping into mine from behind, “Neens, I want you to meet some people.”

“We’ll start soon,” Rodger told me kindly, watching as I was pulled away.

Three people were working on laptops at a small free-standing table, another two on phones sat on one of the sofas, and then three men standing. They were wearing remnants of business suits they had obviously unassembled as the day went on; cuffs were folded up, ties and jackets had been shed, and collars were undone. I wondered if Harry could feel my hands shaking from the one he was holding onto, but if he did, he didn’t let on. I tried to wear a pleasant smile, but there was a sinking feeling that I was about to find myself well out of my depth.

Harry introduced me to his manager, the head of his record label and his business manager.

I felt sick.

Harry happily went on about how excited he was for today, and how this song was probably his favourite of the bunch they were working on for release. He interrupted to add more detail to my deliberately modest answer about what my schedule was like working in a professional orchestra. I hadn’t wanted to seem like I was showing off about myself in front of these arguably more impressive people, but Harry seemed giddy on the whole exchange happening. They were all lovely to me, I expected nothing less from people had chosen to work so closely with, but still, I was intimidated beyond belief and blind-sighted by them all being there at all.

“Excuse me,” I eventually managed to be courageous enough to say, “I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll—

—I know where it is, Harry,” I squeezed his arm, “I’ll be right back.”

I hurried out the room, and a little way down the hall before stopping at a small bench pushed up against the wall. I sat down slowly and rested my head back against the wall. I completely missed the sound of someone following me until I felt the cushion of the seat expand as Rodger sat down too.

“Really had your skates on getting out there,” He said evenly, “Everything okay?”

I pointed back to the studio a few metres away, “The head of his fucking label is in that room.”

Rodger’s expression softened, “He’s not here to intimidate you, Nina. They’re checking in on how recording is going and Harry wanted them to meet you.”

“Who the hell even has a business manager, Rodger?” I added quickly.

Rodger smiled, “Someone who’s in Harry’s position who cares about his career and the careers of the people who work for him.”

“I really don’t know why I’m here,” I hissed at Rodger. “All I did was change the key and alter a melody, and now I’m supposed to what? Pull a pop song out of my arse in front of a room full of people?”

“You fixed a dying song, Nina,” Rodger didn’t blink at my freak out, “The song is yours as far as Harry is concerned, it would be locked on a hard drive somewhere without you. Just because it feels like breathing to you doesn’t mean it’s not miraculous to the rest of us. I could never have done what you did, and neither could Harry. The song wasn’t going to exist and so if it’s going to it’s only right that you oversee it.”

“I don’t even remember what I did.”

“Liar,” Rodger shot back, “You could play it perfectly with your eyes closed, even if you haven’t thought of it since that day. Don’t bullshit me about forgetting a song, you couldn’t if you tried.”

“I’m just a trumpet player from Blackpool,” I said softly, “What am I doing here?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” He replied, “I understand Harry’s team being here is daunting, but we’re gonna go back in there, you’re going to sit in front of the piano and look super cute in the headphones, and it’ll just be you and me at the desk, got it?”

I shut my eyes and nodded, “Don’t let me look bad.”

“That would be impossible,” Rodger stood up, and when I opened my eyes, he was holding a hand down for me. "C'mon."

I let him pull me to my feet and accepted the hug he held his arms out for, "I need to do a nervous wee."

"Off you go then," Rodger chuckled, "I'll get started setting things up in there."

After using the bathroom, I spent a few moments inspecting myself in the bathroom mirror, and I decided I didn’t look half as frazzled as I felt. An excited but sickening churning in my stomach was somehow disconnected from the thoughts in my head telling me making music with Harry was going to be a good thing, probably even a great thing.

So, taking stumbled steps and breathing in almost too deeply, I fisted my hands and placed one leg in front of the other. By the time I was down the corridor and at the door to the studio, I was breathing evenly, and my stomach felt more settled than it had all day.

I walked straight in, and as I passed Rodger at the sound desk I pointed in at the piano, he nodded without removing his headphones and waved me to go in.

The studio air was fresh, but the unmistakable smell of instruments filled my lungs. I stretched my fingers out as I approached the grand piano over to one side and sat down at the stool, pushing it in further so I could reach the peddles comfortably.

"Hear me?" Rodger asked through the set when I put the headphones over my head.

I held up a thumb his way.

"Brill," He said, "Take a few to get settled, and I'll corral the troops out here."

I stared at the keys for a brief moment before placing my fingers across them, fanning through a quiet set of scales and experimenting with how sensitive the keys were when I built the volume. The sound was beautiful, almost as beautiful as the baby grand at my parent's house. I closed my eyes and played around with a few melodies, humming where I thought a voice might sit above them.

"Rodger," I said, waiting for him to look up through the glass window, "Can I open the cover?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I'll come help, it's heavy."

He shuffled into the room a moment later, flipping a few clasps around the piano and then counting down so we could lift it in time.

"Thanks," I sat back down and played a series of major seventh chords to test out how the sound changed.

"What are you thinking? We going to get into piano bashing?" Rodger asked, crossing his arms over his chest and watching my hands.

"Not quite that extreme," I frowned and leaned forward to reach for the treble strings in front of me, "I think harmonic upper partials would give a raspy, ghosty sound that fits though, right? Like having violins without having to deal with violin players."

Rodger laughed at my dig, and I grinned at him, playing the melody from Harry's song while gently touching the overtone positions on the strings of the corresponding keys. A completely different sound filled the studio.

"That sounds sick," Harry appeared next to Rodger and peered into the piano cavity to see what my hands were doing. "Are you allowed to do that?"

"You are if you're Nina," Rodger hit Harry affectionately on the shoulder and then walked away citing a need to finish setting something up.

I stopped my experimenting and sat back on the piano seat, watching Harry watch me.

"Songs about pianos," He signalled softly.

I smiled at him and quickly found the opening chords of the first song that came into my head, "The piano is not firewood yet, they try to remember but still they forget that the heart beats in threes, just like a waltz and nothing can stop you from dancing."

When I paused and raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge, Harry arched his back to belt out his offering, "It's nine o'clock on a Saturday!"

"Stop! Wait," I laughed, ghosting the piano keys to find where I needed to start, "Let me play you an intro."

I played the intro to the iconic Billy Joel song once through and nodded Harry in when he needed to sing, he was smiling the whole time and miming having a harmonica up to his mouth. I stopped after the chorus and pulled my hands away from the key, wondering if this was how his time with Rodger usually went. I didn't like the thought I could be inserting myself as a silly distraction.

"Nerves flushed out?" Harry asked, showing more astuteness to where my head was at than I had given him credit for.

"Tell me where you're at with the song," I prompted him quietly, shuffling to one side of my seat and opening a space for him to join me.

"Well," Harry started, his thigh nestling warmly against mine, "I've completely rewritten the second verse and bridge—

—Tell me about it in terms of the music," I nudged my elbow into his side, "I don't do lyrics."

"Oh," He parroted, and then laughed at himself, "Right. Of course, well ... I'd like it to sound ... Hopeful?"

"So, we'll do a build," I suggested. "You're a guitar man, so I guess you'd—

—I think I want to just have the piano?"

"Just piano?" I questioned.

"Maybe not just piano," Harry swallowed slowly, "But just not be guitar-heavy. I'd like to include some ... Other instruments, I think."

"Other instruments?" I asked, amused by how hesitant he was with the term, his cheeks reddened when he realised I was mildly teasing him for his apprehension. "You don't have to do that because I'm here."

"Play it where we left it last time," Harry nodded at my hands, he cleared his throat and hummed for half a second before singing along with what I had started playing.

He sang in his chest voice, low and sweet with chilling resonance. It was truly beautiful, and I smiled at the way each line of the lyrics played perfectly into the next. Harry closed his eyes as I played into a pre-chorus of sorts, barely reaching to effortlessly switch up to his head voice for the end of each line. I watched him, so I knew when to extend the phrase or move to match his pitch, but Harry kept his eyes closed while he sang.

It wasn't until he fumbled over two lines in a row that he stopped and gave me a bashful smile, "I don't think what I rewrote fits. Let me go get my notebook and—Hey!"

I looked up toward the window to see who had earned Harry's light whine. There was a line of people at the window watching Harry and me at the piano. His manager gave Harry two thumbs up, but Harry flipped them all the bird as he joined them in the room to collect what he needed to continue.

"That sounded great," Rodger walked over to me and then launched into a whole bunch of the technical aspects of what we were about to start doing. A lot of it made sense, and I had been exposed to before, but I had questions about specific parts that he was patient in answering.

When Harry came back, he settled himself off to my left, where the recording mic was set up. He left the room again and returned with a pitcher of water and two glasses, placing it on the floor between us without saying a word. I watched him take a sip and then stepped up to the mic and slip on his own set of headphones.

"Okay, Nina," Rodger said to us through the glass again, "I've got the automatic transcription program on you, so we'll be getting the melodies down in real-time. I know," He assured me before I could protest, "You'll be able to manually edit things after. On the dark side, we're more about the recording than having a perfect transcription, yeah?"

"I didn't say a thing," I mumbled, embarrassed.

"Harry, mate," Rodger addressed him, "Let's go right through once, doesn't matter if we miss bits. Just give Nina the chance to play it out, and by the second take she'll be set."

"That's annoyingly impressive," Harry told him, adjusting where his headphones sat, "Is there a support group you can recommend?"

"I can hear you both."

"I'll get Max to put you on the mailing list," Rodger promised Harry, setting up a click track to guide our timing but then turning it right down so I could only just hear it.

Harry continued to banter with Rodger as the sound was tested, "Good, I'm going to need maximum support," he spoke into the microphone. "Test, this is a test. I am testing the microphone."

Rodger gave Harry a thumbs up and told me to play something on the piano so he could alter the levels on the boom mics positioned over the open cover. To spite them both, I started tapping out the basic tune of Ode to Joy, not looking at either of them as I did so.

I heard Rodger laugh through the headset, and Harry clapped beside me, "Genius at work."

While they both still were laughing, I switched to Mozart's Sonata No. 17, which shut them up very quickly. I looked over at Harry and gave him a smug smile as I played without hesitation or missing a note. He tried to hold my gaze, but his eyes zeroed in on my hands and were transfixed by their movements. I stopped playing abruptly, and he playfully narrowed his eyes at me.

"Yes?" I asked him sweetly.

"Put him in his place, he's a shit, Nina," Another voice spoke up.

Harry and I looked up to find his manager at the glass with a headset on, "You've never spoken wearing that before!"

"I've never felt the need to," was the reply to Harry's exclamation. "You usually behave yourself."

+++

Two and a half hours later, we had a song.

"It's beautiful," I wound my arms around Harry's waist where he had me tucked under his arm. My fingers played with the cords of our headphones where we stood together, listening to a rough cut of just Harry's isolated vocals.

"Give me a second," Rodger said, distracted by trying to layer the piano and backing vocals over Harry's track."Everyone ready?"

Most of Harry's team left throughout the afternoon, the people on phones and laptops had gone as well as the label head. Harry's manager, business manager and a videographer remained. His manager stood and came over to the desk, but the other two stayed seated on the sofa.

"Okay," Rodger decided he was sorted, clicking on his screen back to the start and pressing play.

Harry tugged the ends of my hair, ghosting his fingers up and down my neck as the opening notes filled our ears. We stood together behind Rodger sitting at the sound desk, the song playing out where we had grown used to hearing sections cut up and altered what felt like a hundred times over.

In the end, Harry hadn't entirely stayed true to his 'piano only' idea, I had managed to convince him to add in some strings which were computerised for now but would be live recorded down the track. We also ended up with bass drums to help with the build to the bridge. Throughout the afternoon, the piano part had been stripped back because I refused to let Harry's gorgeous lyrics drown in a sea of complicated notes and melodies.

The end result was a haunting but euphoric song that took Harry out of his comfort zone and showcased the raspiness and dimension of his voice. It was hopeful like he hoped earlier it would be, but it also gave voice to a vulnerable side of him. It wasn't a song with a strong personal narrative, he had written on the universal truth of life and love and the simplicity behind humanity that we rarely pay mind to.

The song ended, and Rodger slowly turned back to us, his face immediately lit up, "Look at you both!"

"What?" I sniffed, bringing the sleeve of my jumper up to my face, I craned my neck to look at Harry who had his hand covering his mouth.

When he looked down at me, Harry's eyes were wet, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. We both took in each other's faces and then started laughing. I hadn't seen Harry have such an emotional reaction to music, but I knew exactly what he was thinking about mine.

"I see tears, I've done it!" Harry did a little fist punch with his free arm.

"Excuse me," I cried out, "I cry all the damn time if anything I'm the one who's 'done it'. Look at you, you're a mess!"

"It's catching," Harry replied simply, leaning down to press one kiss on my cheek, "Thank you," he said to just me.

"The song is gorgeous," I told him.

"It sure is," He confirmed with an edge of wonder in his voice.

FEEDBACK MAKES ME NOT REGRET WRITING 8K WORDS FOR YOU

[togidemicomics]

a handful of updates

hello! i’m not deceased. (sadly.) you will, in fact, be seeing more of me again since creating comics more consistently is a goal of mine this year ʸᵉˢ ᶦ ˢᵗᶦˡˡ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵉʷ ʸᵉᵃʳ'ˢ ʳᵉˢᵒˡᵘᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵘˡˡʸ ᵐᵉ ᶦ'ᵐ ᵗʳʸᶦⁿᵍ ᴹʸ ᴮᵉˢᵗ

but just so i’m accountable to my plans and therefore socially pressuring myself to stick to them: will work on clearing through my inbox within the month. a lot of them are ancient so if you see yours from like... july, august 2019? i’m. sorry i didn’t respond sooner or have anything to say. ;-; and yes BARBARA i DO have to doodle an image to go with every ask i get because i enjoy taking the time to do it. am considering giving out copies of I Am Babie/I Am Adult to help out with the australian bushfires, but i kind of have a problem. i honestly have no idea if i ever promoted it here on tungle dot com, but in august 2019 i put together a reversible comic strip compilation (along with around... 19...? exclusive strips) for komikon indieket that i just never put up for sale online since i sold it for 70 pesos - little over than one US dollar - given how short and tiny it is and didn’t feel comfortable charging $3-ish dollars for that product online.

note the date by the old hairstyle however! if i ask people to instead donate that same amount to help australia stop being on fire, i have zero qualms handing my comics over. however x2! i’m also well-aware that $3 is a TEENY TINY DONATION (of course, every penny counts tho!) but am unable to create other content - commissions, other compilations, etc. - to give in return for a higher donation amount, like $10+.  should i just.... send free digital copies to whoever’s donated to a reputable australia bushfire fundraiser, no matter the amount? if you have suggestions, please please let me know! (especially since i’ll, as abovementioned, be frequently looking through my ask inbox now lol) i want to be able to help asap tbh. will work out a consistent update schedule and try to make the Togidemi Comics Brand™ most active on here. listen. i’m an old man with a boomer’s energy level for social media. i know tumblr’s a dying platform, but it’s the site whose format i feel suits me the most, even though my reach is greatest over on bacefook and i currently spend the most time on tooter. (yes dropping my links regardless because i still crave attention on all sites tho oops) so uh. togi’s gonna actually be actively replying and reblogging now?? yay??? i’m done speaking but yeah them’s the Plans. thanks so much for sticking around!! there’s like 2.5k of you now following this blog? that’s insane wtf

[schroedingersk8]

15. Let Me Draw You A Pie Chart

Or  Why I Refuse To Date For Free. 

I have written this post as a personal opinion, but I think it would be of tremendous use to my fellow Dommes and International Women of Mystery, as a read and perhaps a thought experiment, too. If you have any questions, please contact me via K8Morgan.com

I have woken up today, and have decided to dedicate my inaugural 2020 dating blog post to what is bound to become a very a prickly subject -- remunerated dating. Thing is, that yesterday, before going to bed, I have posted a three-line response to an anonymous question, and woke up to an anonymous answer in a scandalised line of “how dare I?” :)

And I laughed to myself, but also thought that, in this day and age of #mansplaining and with my work as a Dominatrix shrouded in all kinds of myths, maybe I ought to do a bit of #dommesplaining (I am very proud of this hashtag, btw!) and show exactly how, and why I dare. So, my dear, let me draw you a pie chart: 

This is my pie chart of life. 

Are you with me so far? Am I condescending enough? 

You can read it as a day, month, year, etc -- this is an entire life-flow, and I have organised it, for myself, in in the following manner:

There is “Me time” -- a pleasant tea on a sunny bar terrace, a visit to a SPA, upkeeping my good looks -- manicures, haircuts, meditation, just 20 minutes of quiet nothingness to myself. Then there are “Vanilla Life Obligations”-- doing a food shop, waiting for deliveries, arranging household needs, plumbers, boiler revisions, own health check up, cat health check ups, getting paperwork done, etc. Then we come to “Active Hobbies and Social Obligations” -- things I enjoy doing outside of the house -- maybe an opera visit, a museum stroll, a theatre performance, a gallery opening, gym, walk in the park, an excursion, a friend’s birthday party, or crisis counselling, or just a few beers with gossip et al. We also have “Passive Indoor Hobbies” -- things I usually do in the comfort of my own home -- reading classics by the fireplace, covered in Feline Overlords, watching some telly, taking a bath...you get the drift. And then, there is “WORK”. Want to venture a guess and pick which one is which? 

How well did you do? It is, of course, a very rough estimate. But this is how I have arranged my life. 

As you notice, there is no pie slice for “romantic relationship” because for me it is not a necessity. I am very happy with my current life, and 2020 will mark 9 years of me being “emotionally single” and “self-partnered”. Would it be nice to have a relationship? Maybe. But at this point it will be coming at the cost of other things. And I am not willing to surrender those things. Should I skip a visit to El Prado because you want your knob polished for free? Should I stop seeing my friends and family, who have been with me for years, because your ego needs continuous attention for the following 3 weeks, every time you come home from work? Should I banish my cats to an animal shelter because your balls need free shining? No? Then the only thing that has to give is my work time allocation.

“Pah, you dedicate too much time to work!” -- I hear you scoff. Now, have you met many self-employed/entrepreneurial people? Do they spend 30 min a day, only, on their projects? Let me remind you that DOMMEWORK IS WORK. S#X WORK IS WORK. If I were doing a PhD, would you whinge about my time allocation to studying? 

My work is something that brings me joy, my work is something that I find challenging, stimulating and fun. My work is something that pays my bills. All those things are already more than what I can say about your contribution to my life so far. 

And, as any work, it gets even more detailed:

I do not know if you can see it well in the picture, but my work currently consists of seven parts:

Research and Development -- studying marketing and pricing trends, consumer behaviour, strategies, new BDSM fabs, new media tendencies.

Implementation -- with the results of research and development in mind, making website updates, skill updates, new inventory and alike.

Analytics -- establishing what worked, what worked best, and what did not work at all, and changing things accordingly.

Work Admin -- reading and answering all your emails and inquiries, about sessions, pricing, availability, and about chances to date me for free.

Business Admin -- taxes, forms, rebates, etc etc etc.

Social Media Maintenance -- social media is the pipeline from where I get my clients, and no maintenance = no new clients.

Actual Sessions or Tours -- the time actually spent in sessions or preparing for sessions.

This, above, is a VERY rough estimate of what currently goes into my work. This does not even include the work I do for my fan sites. This is just the most basic task allocation in the most basic idea that you might have of my work. 

Yes, I am self employed, but the world these days places same requirements on the one-person-flying-circus as they do on corporations. Everybody expects me to post pretty pictures a few times a day. Everybody expects me to provide customer service. Government expects me to pay taxes. Anyone with a New Year’s Resolution to “date me this year” expects a reply, and then an even longer reply of “why not?” Clients expect me to look my best. To succeed in industry I need to be on top of the tendencies. And to be proud of my work I expect myself to do my absolute best. 

And yes, I HAVE to do everything myself. As such, I employ a cat nanny/cleaner so I can spend few more hours per week learning and studying. Yes, I do as well as I do because I DELIVER on most expectations. And I am able to DELIVER on them because of meticulous hard work that I put in, today and every day, into my business. (Tumblr is part of my Business Profile, by the way, otherwise I wouldn’t be spending time on it. For example, I deemed Instagram no longer cost effective after 3 years as it was not worth the time I had to put into it in terms of prospective client growth, so I stopped using it, at 50K+ followers.) 

As I hope you understand (I simply cannot draw a more basic pie chart!), any reduction in time I spend doing my work results in less income for me. Now, DommeWork, in terms of my age, and in terms of my looks, is an enterprise limited in time. Whatever I save is my future pension, it is my future cash flow, it is my nest egg, for when I retire. Why should I deprive myself of that, so that you could get your knob polished for free? Why SHOULD I make less money for myself just so you can save YOUR money??? 

“Oh, you only have dollar signs in your eyes, you do not value me as a person and as just an cash machine!” -- No, my dear, my stance on “free dating” has absolutely NOTHING to do with you, or how I view or value YOU. But it has EVERYTHING to do with how I view MYSELF, how I VALUE MYSELF, and how I VALUE MY TIME.  Even to give you, a man from the Internet who thinks I owe him free dating, a try for a month, and dedicate 20% of my work time, to you, instead of work, will result in a 20% reduction in MY income the following month. Now, 20% of my average monthly income is roughly my monthly rent. So, I should give up my ENTIRE month’s rent in order to see whether you are worth it? While you do not think you should be paying for dating?

And, what exactly is “it”? The funny thing is that in the “best case scenario” of us moving in together and living happily ever after, you would occupy at least half of my time, ever pushing for more, costing me a 50% reduction of income (that’s TWO ENTIRE RENTS) to then just have to contribute “your fair share” of HALF THE RENT!!! 

So, you are down HALF the rent, while I am down TWO RENTS AND A HALF! And when you yelp “but what about love, love should be free, it is priceless, a relationship should be about two equals!” this is exactly how much YOUR priceless love, by the roughest estimate of the projected loss of earnings based on time allocation is going to cost ME, per month. TWO AND A HALF RENTS. While you insist it should be FREE for you because it is priceless! Show me the equality in that relationship, you equal rights champion you! Where is it? Or is it like in Orwell’s “Animal Farm”, some pigs should be more “equal” than the others? I mean, really???

Do we need another chart to explain to you the “bigger-smaller, up-close or far-away” concepts? Because your parents should have explained it to you when you were about 4 years old... 

“Yeah, well, other women do not expect me to pay them to date them!” -- I do not know what to say to that  -- maybe they value themselves less. Maybe they have too much free time on their hands and are bored. Maybe they cannot entertain themselves. Maybe they need help watching Netflix. Maybe their rents are so high in relation to their overall income that half a rent or half the mortgage for them is worth the trouble. Maybe the contribution they think you will make to their life is worth it for them. Or maybe they need to take a look at my pie charts themselves? In any case, if free dating is what you want, you should address your needs towards them, not me. 

So, my dear, as I dash to my drinks and tapas with friends, as it is a beautiful Sunday afternoon -- and I had to push back my attendance by an hour to finish writing my work blog post to address the topic raised too many times this week alone -- let me give you a word of advice. Before you get your panties in a knot and get thinking of what you can get from me for free -- ask yourself a very hard question: what can you really contribute?

No one, under the penalty of the EU copyright laws, is allowed to use or reproduce my blog or individual posts, or even passages, in any way, shape or form, be it for Netflix series, Amazon books, or anything of the kind, regardless of the credit given. If you have any questions, you may contact me via K8Morgan.com