#i love that my fandom contribution is purely suggestions for

[currantlee]

A Few Words on Unsolicited Criticism

Came across this and yeah... I wanna talk about it. (I know not reblogging is kinda rude, but I don't want any harrassment directed towards this person, and the best way to contribute to that is by not disclosing their identity. It doesn't matter for the point I'm gonna make anyway)

The mindset I can see in the post screenshotted above is, in my opinion, an extremely damaging one - both for the people receiving unsolicited criticism from people like this, as well as for these self-proclaimed critics themselves. How do I know? Well, because I used to be one of these kinds of people, and I'm so glad I got over that, both for the people I have hurt with this kind of behavior (if any of you are reading this, I'm still sorry) and those I would potentially have hurt if I kept going like this, as well as for my own wellbeing.

You see, this "criticism is always valid"-attitude stems from one mindset in my opinion (and that is if I'm being nice and disregard the entitlement-option): the mentality that everyone is (and should be) always trying to improve - which is not a great mentality to have, both for the people you are criticizing and your own work (if you engage in creative endeavours), as it can lead to perfectionism, which can, in turn, damage your ability to create.

The truth is, whether people are actively trying to improve or not is situational. You do not know what another person is going through or why they are even creating. They could be trying to improve their skills, but they could also be creating to vent. Or, you know, purely to have fun, see their ideas come to life or to distract themselves from the stress that is everyday life - which also constantly pushes us to get better. There are lots of reasons to create, and not everyone is trying to get better at all times - and that is completely valid! It doesn't make one any less of an artist, a writer, a videograph, ... if they're not actively trying to improve!

Also, for all you creatives out there: I don't actually think you should take criticism from anyone. First of all, not everyone is actually qualified to give constructive criticism which is a skillset of its own (though I do want to point out that pretty much everyone can point out things and / or make suggestions regarding your work, which can also be extremely helpful), and secondly, there is no ultimate recipe for helpful criticism. It varies from person to person. Some are better off taking criticism from people they're close with (for example folks with trust issues), while others fare better taking criticism from people they barely know (for example folks who persue a creative career and are working with / for people they barely know). Some are better off with criticism that includes a lot of jokes (for example folks who love to have fun while editing and can laugh about themselves without feeling bad), while others fare better with kindly worded criticism (for example folks who are currently working on self-esteem-issues).

Last but not least, I wanna talk about "don't like (it), don't read (it)" (and its variations such as "don't like, don't watch") a bit.

Fanwork is free entertainment, meaning no one wastes any money on it. Yes, there are some people who are actively trying to improve their skills, but a lot of us are just trying to have fun. Unless a fanwork (usually a fanfic or ongoing AUs) is held up like the second coming of Jesus by (parts of) a fandom (and therefore has a big impact) and / or taken very serious by its creator and / or the criticism is tied into the discussion of a bigger topic, for example pretty much every -ism-issue (including in fandom itself), queerphobia or misogny, meaning that the discussion revolves more around these issues than the actual work itself, unsolicited criticism is not only unwanted, but unnecessary. "Dont like (it), don't read (it)" also ties into audience entitlement, meaning the attitude that everything must be made for everyone (think: Penjamin Shapiebro reacting to the Barbie Movie) which is especially common in people that are privileged and don't acknowledge it, when the reality is that you can never please everyone. Therefore not every creative work can or must be made for everyone. If you don't like a work, more often than not it's not because that work is actually bad, but because it's just not for you. That's what "don't like it, don't read it" means: it's okay to dislike something and move on from it, even if it's for no obvious reason. It's a statement that's both empowering to creators and to audiences if you take like this.

In other words: the only thing in this conversation that's "idiotic" in my opinion is unsolicited criticism because it usually helps absolutely no one.

[macncherries]

am i the only one that thinks its crazy when women target popular gay men (or gay/ace/aro insinuated) men with romantic language? because to me its more of a realization that that person loves that character a lot and yet has absolutely no grasp on them as a person or concept. like, im not judging you, because thats your babygirl or whatever, but youve just twisted the image of that babygirl to fit your own notion; its no longer that same character/person anymore.

a lot of this was brought on by a Troye Sivan & Charlie xcx concert i went to a few days ago. there was a girl behind us screaming "thats my husband!" and other various romantically charged quips at him. which i never understood. why are you here? you cant not know that hes gay. if youre attending a concert of his, and comfortable enough to state hes your husband, you have to know hes gay. so why do it? am i taking this too literally? is it just one of those things that "people just say" and there is no deeper meaning behind it? the whole time i couldnt help but to think "girl, you are barking up the wrong tree" which was ironic because i think during "Rush" she was growling and barking at him as well. Also, side note, i love Rush's music video a lot.

this is a lot longer than i thought it would be. more below.

ever since then i realize that the same thing happens very frequently with fictional characters as well. I guess it just depends what fandom im in at the time, but obviously right now dungeon meshi is taking over my frontal cortex like spreading necrotic tissue. Laios specifically, people seem to do similar things with him. i think its because hes relatively 'malleable' as a character— hes easy to project onto and thus easy to mischaracterize. theres also a common theme with him being portrayed as puppy/dog-like and needy and whiny and stuff like that. this is more so in suggestive content. Im not disagreeing with that opinion; honestly i kind of like it, but thats another contribution as to why i think people choose him for the same kind of stuff. I will often see women or very fem-leaning folks hone in on Laios, romantically. And use the same kind of language. "thats my man!" "thats my husband!" "hes so mine" etc. Things that lay romantic ownership. and again, every time i see it, i cant help but to think "girl, you are barking up the wrong tree"

then again, self-ship has always been a little lost on me, so maybe thats where im not understanding. I dont dislike people who do it and i dont dislike it as a concept, i just dont understand why you would use that kind of language with a person who would realistically never be romantically interested in your gender. Obviously, Laios isnt canonically gay, but its highly insinuated he is both queer and autistic. and a lot of people who use the aforementioned language are, in turn, mischaracterizing him. Or at the very least ignorant to his coding and nuance within the character. This ties into the whole puppy/neediness thing earlier. The autism is translated into "dumb" to them, because they want to see the submissive behavior of a male character. Thats a whole different debacle. Im very tired of people categorizing Laios as 'dumb' as a general statement.

I think its still much more acceptable thing to do overall on Laios than it is Troye Sivan though. Doing that to a real person is much much weirder.

I also understand that the point of self-ship isnt necessarily to be realistic, that its more of a comfort thing, but doesnt that also kind of take you out of it? Like, every time i get romantically attached to a character romantically, its out of realism. As in, i would be at least somewhat attracted to them in real life. And inversely they would at least not categorically deny me outright. Getting attached purely sexually to a character is a bit different. And im guilty of being led by my dick to completely unrealistic characters. But im not talking about those, because the people who do this make use of both romantic and sexual language. So its not just a led-by-the-dick thing. Its a genuine belief that not only you "understand" that character, but that when using romantic language addressing that character, it is not just an outright lie.

am i just not understanding the tone? Is the whole "thats my husband" thing a joke and not laying any kind of romantic insinuation? ive only ever seen it used as such, but it could be different on tumblr.

[anotherghoul666]

Confessional booth & general writing update

Hello yall wonderful souls! I've been meaning to make an update for my writing and the whole confessional booth business for a few days but work kicked my ass and plans changed. That being said, I'm here now, so let's shed some light :)

As you might have noticed, my answers to the confessional booth have slowed down considerably these past days. To be honest, I didn't expect it to, but winning NaNoWriMo this year draiiiined me. A lot. I'm freakin' delighted to have achieved this, but also I've also frozen in front of my writing software for a few days now and I need the brain rest. So here's what the new state of my inbox is gonna be.

My inbox remains OPEN for:

questions and advice about BDSM and kink;

questions and advice about ethical non-monogamy / poly / open relationships;

writing related things like comments, fic requests, etc. Please feel free if you have any comments or questions or suggestions or things you want to read about in my pen, you always have the space to leave those.

general tumblr stuff like tag games and question games, etc.

My inbox is SEMI-OPEN for: (by semi-open I mean, it might take me a while but I should get to it eventually?)

character-related imagine scenarios or headcanon asks, so like, about the ghouls and Papas, which ghoul do you think would like this kink, etc.

you guys wanting to share headcanons or mini fics with me about the characters, ghouls and Papas, I'm always down to read you!

My inbox is currently CLOSED for:

pure fiction / imagines about kink between anons and I, what I'd do to yall, etc.

I might re-open the confessional booth when I have more time and writing bandwidth, but for now when I feel the writing bug get me again, I wanna channel it into proper fics! Which leads me to!

General writing update / currently working on:

Stripper!AU;

Ghost fandom secret santa gift exchange;

Probably a shorter kinky pallet cleanser after that;

Thank you so much to everyone who contributed to the confessional booth, to say I expected any of it to get this big would be a lie XD It was pure chaos, it was pure fun, I'd love to do it again someday, I just can't sustain that long term clearly, so it's gonna be smaller events.

Wishing yall the best! ❤️❤️

[dnphan]

hi, of course, i would love to elaborate!! first, i want to say i've been lurking around your blog for a while, and when i saw u in the recent video my jaw dropped. congrats!!!!!

but onto some context i guess? this may be a long one, so strap in!

the younow days were obviously VERY iconic. i do love them and many many times i find myself rewatching the younows that i saw live for the pure nostalgia factor BUT those lives and that era in general also generated some very awkward moments.

dan and phil (but dan especially) were constantly questioned and attacked about their sexuality and relationship, and as they weren't out yet it made everything a little tense. dan had to repeatedly tell his audience he "wasn't gay" and he came across as a little defensive. the phandom around the early younow days was also very "anti-phan" (especially on twitter) and people even went so far as to get accounts banned for suggesting dan wasn't straight or shipping him with phil. in general, this whole situation made me very uncomfortable. (especially now looking back on it knowing that dan was struggling with his identity and internalized homophobia at the same time).

i won't expand on a certain thing that was leaked at the time, but it also contributed to a lot of harassment towards dnp and between the fandom. people joke about how dan hated his fans then.

again though, the majority of this happened in 2012 and the younow days continued til 2018 i believe? (though they were less often later on). i personally think a big catalyst of all of this was how often they would go live on younow. i absolutely loved them during this era obviously, but i much much much prefer their very unhinged and gay energy nowadays!

contrary to popular belief, i do NOT want to go back to the younow days !!!

[luvlaw]

rottmnt edit songs that i wanna see but idk how 2 make edits so imma just throw this out here for y’all:

1. we not humping remix by monaleo

Full plate, so I need me a big meal (let's go)

Big boss, so a bitch got big bills (uh-huh)

Big Benz, back out with the big wheels (go)

Big L-E-O, I'm a big deal

hmm i wonder which turtle could possibly be perf for this part, n e ways !

2. beef by flo milli

now why does every1 do the verse AFTER this part when this one is kinda way better

I need you to have a seat (Bye)

My dad will drill you like a cavity (Cavity)

And he won't let you in on his strategy

Better think twice when you come for our family (Ho)

Honey, you're gonna cause a fatality (You out of here)

YES i want more splinter (and/or lou) in these edits thank u very much

3. best friend by saweetie

literally any part of the song tbh i just need to see donnie n april aka the best bad bitch duo

4.

[tododeku-or-bust]

Tl, Dr: Those "create for yourself" posts always consist of moral victim-blaming from people who don't actually understand what fan creators want, and their arguments never consider the full context.

----

Most people i know who create (including myself) don't necessarily care about the number of people. I would rather have five people happily comment on my fic updates about how much they love it, than 10000 mindless kudos. I would! I will write whole fics for two readers- myself and someone else.

People out here asking for reblogs, "❤️", "wow this is so good!", And literal "Thank you", and y'all acting like they're somehow Bitter Bettys for the audacity 🙄

And i do get the 'create for yourself' argument. I do lmao, some of my favorite works have been purely out of love for what i want to see and I adore them. I don't write shit that i don't wanna see. But i feel like it's become very victim-blaming to suggest that it's all on us as creators.

People get on Tumblr for two reasons- to post, and to consume. Period- don't kid yourself. Y'all literally get on this site to find (usually fandom) community that loves the stuff you love and posts about it, so you can see it and feel a part of something bigger. For free, even!

So i don't understand how, if it's a given that people are here bc they want to see things, that somehow the side contributing to the community should just "do it just because". Like there's not people looming, expectant of your work in this equation lmao.

Cuz i can write whole stories, people can create whole paintings, and keep them at home on their computers where they can love them forever. But then y'all wouldn't have all your fave fanarts, gifs, and fics, the ones you came here for! You assumed that I would create and you would benefit! You were the one that felt owed content just bc you showed up!

"writers, artists are leaving fandom, it must be because they're ungrateful so stop expecting support and you'll be happy!" Sounds a lot like "if you work at a job because of money, you'll never be happy when you don't get a raise so stop expecting money and you'll be happy!" 🙄 You'd sound like a cornball if you said that shit out loud.

Anyway, y'all are not gonna die because a creator asked for a button press of appreciation. Grow up and appreciate the people brightening your days.

[bonvoyagenoona]

About Me 12 | Being Cited in a Teen Vogue Article on Y/N Fanfic, and Linking that with BTS, Psychology, and Narrative Therapy

source: Teen Vogue, article written by Stitch

What are you talking about now, Cheryl?

Lol you all know how much I love talking about writing! Talking about the motivation behind it, the structure and process of it, the way I feel about it, the experimentation I’m doing with it, etc. Thanks for reading along with me as I share those thoughts, which I post under #how i write!

The amazing fandom writer Stitch (here’s their Teen Vogue portfolio, their Linktree, and their Twitter!) put out a call last year for fanfic writers to weigh in on reader insert fics. They asked questions about what motivated writers to use this format. Naturally, verbose li’l ol me jumped at the chance to contribute, and I was lucky enough to get selected as one of the snippets for the article! 

I highly, highly recommend you read the full article, as there are so many discussion points about wish fulfilment, representation, and passion, but here’s my contribution!

source: Teen Vogue

And this relates to what I love talking about when it comes to BTS, writing, and psychology! What I refer to here, this aspect that Stitch so astutely identifies, this process of working through a problem and connecting with others who are going through something similar --- this is narrative therapy!

Here’s a wonderful definition from Psychology Today:

I’ve seen narrative therapy work wonders for people. Some use journaling techniques to get their thoughts on the page. Some use traditional story structure. Some use poetry. Some write raps. It can be very painful to re-access traumatic moments in order to heal, but shown the right guidance, time, and patience, it can make all the difference. And, as I mentioned in the excerpt above, I use some of these elements to reflect on and address my own life experiences.

So how does this relate to Y/N fanfic?

In reflecting on this more, I began unpacking my thoughts on format and the Y/N structure, specifically as it relates to motivation and impact of fanfic. 

Let’s talk about what the fanfic world calls POV, or first-, second-, and third-person voice! 

Here’s a quick summary from Merriam-Webster:

And here are my thoughts on the difference between them as they relate to fanfic!

Using first person, or “I” / “me” / “we” / “they”, indicates a motivation of wanting to share a personal experience from one’s own perspective. It’s common, and it actually reminds me a lot of how stories are told, and how advice is given, in collectivistic cultures. Whenever I talk to family or friends from such cultures and seek their advice, they usually tell a personal story and hope that I can glean advice from their experience rather than answering my questions directly. As it pertains to fanfic, this voice is very intimate. The story and author are inextricably linked, and that suggests that the motivation is to speak one’s truth, to share an experience in order to share oneself with others in a deeply personal way.

Using third person, or “she/he/they” (which I am using for A Map of Mrs. Kims!), provides more of an objective narrator, so there’s more space between the author and the story, though third person omniscient provides some commentary along the way from the narrator’s POV.

Here’s are small examples of third person omniscient with Bongseon and Jihu:

Bongseon suddenly understands why this trait is something her mother found so annoying.

“Jeez, fine, then read or something.” Bongseon replies, focused on her canvas. “Get something from my shelf over there. Just hurry up, and please don’t talk while I’m getting started. It takes me a while to get into the right head space.”

Jihu nods. He should’ve known better by now. Like with all things, there is a process.

It’s less intimate in the sense that you don’t have the author’s presence to shape your experience of the story; they are focused on painting a vivid picture for you. And I think I am leaning toward shaping AMOMK as purely third person for the main fic moving forward for several reasons, including:

It helps with managing a bigger cast of characters’ thoughts, actions, and motivations.

Third person omniscient still allows for fun little commentary, like what the characters are thinking and feeling (see snippet above).

Most of your asks refer to characters as “they” already! You also call Sad Girl and refer to the Bachelorettes introduced so far as “she”, so like with the entire AMOMK universe, I’m following your lead!

Using second person, or “you”/”Y/N”, straddles 😏 these two worlds. Readers are allowed into the story, which provides that rich immersion. You get the sensations, the thrills, the feels. The sexy feel of Yoongi’s hand on your cheek. The caring kiss Jungkook places on your lips. The way Jin fucks you with his massive cock.

Lol but for someone like me, who also writes in order to work out a past experience or inject a personal life theme into the work, it also allows for some separation to provide empowerment and reflection. It’s how I think messages to myself, every day: 

“C’mon, you’ve got this!”

“Wait, what are you doing?” 

“You know better than that!” 

“You need rest. Take a break!” 

At the top of this very post, lol, “What are you talking about now, Cheryl?”

And talking to myself in this way allows me to depersonalize enough to actually do the figuring out part of narrative therapy, the sorting through my thoughts as objectively as I can so that I can focus on telling / rewriting my story --- which is what narrative therapy is all about.

Whoa, that’s a lot to think about. Honestly, I’m just here for the fluff/angst/smut.

Lol thanks for indulging me. But for those of you who are interested, I’m endlessly curious about what you all think! When you read fanfiction, do you think this actively about POV? I’ve certainly gotten questions about in the past, and I’m still developing my thoughts and style on the more common structures that I use. When you write fanfiction, do you think about motivation, or just generally gravitate toward a particular style? At any rate, I’d love to hear what you think!

Also, if you want to contribute to an upcoming podcast on fanfiction, started by a wonderful co-worker and fellow researcher of mine’s friends, take this survey!

Finally, check out Stitch and their awesome work! Follow them on Twitter, check out their sites, and, if you can, buy her original work, too! Talking about fanfic and supporting people who write about fandom are small ways to help with normalizing and detoxifying fanfic, as well as advocating for representation, because they’re trying to showcase just how beloved and powerful fanfiction truly is. 

As always, thanks for reading with me, and I hope you enjoy this content as well. And don’t worry! I promise I’m not done writing about Yoongi’s hands, Jungkook’s lips, and Jin’s massive cock.

[moonstruck-writing]

Roses and friendship

Fandom: A3! Characters: Summer Troupe! (slightly Muku-centric) Rating: General Prompt: Feb 4th - Surprising them with way more roses than expected Event: Be my Valentine hosted by @xxsycamore and @chaosangel767 Contents: purely platonic fluff~ only friendship here~ Summary: Valentine’s Day is approaching and everybody knows Muku is extra excited about it. Word Count: 1.2k A/N: Anything is more than 0 and poor Muku expected nothing. When this idea popped into my mind I LOVED it but oh boi was this hard to write :// Anyway, here’s my contribution to: Valentine’s Day can be celebrated with your friends / family too <3 platonic love is still love <3 (also you can just celebrate it with yourself, self love is as important!!)

It’s the weekend before Valentine’s Day at the dorms, and Muku has just arrived with fresh new manga to indulge in the festivity.

He is telling Kazunari all about a scene he has just read – he is trying to slow down the reading because otherwise, he’ll finish all he has bought in just a day. Muku even shows him a couple of pages, and he offers to lend him the volume when he has started a new one.

Kazunari says he is excited for the next meeting of the shoujo manga club and they start brainstorming titles to suggest for the next reunion.

When it’s time to have dinner, they quickly go to the living room, but there are quite a few members who are missing. That makes it less lively than usual, and they take the chance to continue their conversation on manga and Valentine’s Day.

Yuki, who is within earshot, tries to ignore the conversation at first. However, all that talk about romance and Valentine’s Day is getting on his nerves, and soon enough he can’t help but interrupt them.

“Valentine’s Day isn’t just for couples, you know?” Yuki doesn’t look at them while talking, but he says it loud enough that both Muku and Kazunari stop talking, forks midair. Yuki can feel their gazes still on him, and that further irritates him.

“Yuki…” Muku murmurs, trying to decide whether he should drop the conversation and wait until they’re back in their shared room to resume the shoujo manga talk with Kazunari.

“Oh, yeah! I’ve heard girls celebrate it with their friends too! It seems totes fun~” Kazunari resumes eating, while Muku softly sets his fork down.

“It does seem fun… I wish we could celebrate it, too…” Muku softly says, but because the table is quieter than usual, Yuki and the others hear it clearly. “I, uh, forget I said anything! You must be busy and Valentine’s Day is just another day in the year, it’s not…” He quickly adds.

Everyone knows Muku isn’t speaking the truth. For whom else would Valentine’s Day mean so much if not for him? There’s nothing wrong with that, Yuki wants to say, but somehow the words don’t make it past his lips.

That’s why when that awkward dinner is over, Yuki stays in the living room until he sees Muku go to the bathroom to take a bath. By that time, the missing members of the Summer Troupe have already made it back to the dorms. Then, he starts his plan.

“What’s this?” Tenma asks when Yuki brings Kazunari, Misumi and Kumon into their room.

“Listen up guys. We have one mission to accomplish by Monday.” Yuki makes them sit down on the bed while he explains the situation.

Even if some of them complain at first – Tenma – and most of them are confused, by the end of his talk Yuki has managed to convince them all, and they promptly start working towards their goal.

The rest of the weekend passes by in a breeze, and Muku manages to still save one of the volumes he bought. He’s really looking forward to reading it when he comes back from school on Monday.

At school, he sees some girls giving chocolates to their crushes, and he remembers a scene from the manga he finished last night. In it, it was the boy who gave a rose to the girl he liked for Valentine’s Day – something about a Western tradition. Muku looks out the window and imagines how that would be in real life. The boy looked so princely, too. Just like a knight courting a princess.

He wonders how it would be to live in that world, but he is quickly pulled back to Earth when the bell rings. When he’s done getting his things, Yuki is waiting for him to go home together.

“Yuki! Thank you for waiting. Did you receive chocolates?” Muku asks while walking down the stairs.

“Yeah. Luckily, I managed to avoid getting confessed to.” The green-haired boy talks without looking at Muku. The other laughs and wonders if it would be okay to ask more about the chocolates, but finally decides not to.

Once they’re home, Muku doesn’t notice Yuki is following behind him. When the pink-haired boy opens the door to his room, a joyous group shout is heard.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Muku!!” Everyone in the Summer Troupe speaks those words, including Yuki behind him, who quickly pushes him to enter and closes the door behind them.

“Wha-what are all of you doing here?” Muku asks looking at all of them in turns.

“We have a present for you, Muku.” Kumon is the first to speak, and Yuki places his hands on Muku’s shoulders to guide him to sit down on a cushion they’ve prepared. All of them sit down in a circle around him.

“Okay, everyone, on the count of three, one, two-” Yuki says, and Muku’s heart starts beating faster with anticipation.

“Triangle~”

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, each of them gets a special present out.

“Ah, what- this- what is this?” Muku feels overwhelmed, and still doesn’t fully comprehend the situation.

“Mukkun, we got you special VD presents~”

“What? But Valentine’s-” Muku starts saying, but Yuki quickly intercedes.

“This holiday is not reserved for certain people or a certain type of love. And anyone can celebrate love.” Yuki takes Muku’s hand and places his present on his palm. “Here.”

It’s a cloth patch with a beautiful pink rose embroidered there.

“Woah, Yuki! You did this for me? Thank you so much!! But why-”

“My turn~ here, you can have this Muku.” Misumi hands what seems to be a semi-transparent pyramid, and when he looks at it carefully, he sees it has a miniature rose inside.

“Ohh, Misumi, where did you find this? It’s incredible!”

The older one just laughs and quickly Tenma takes the cue.

“Muku, this is from me.” He hands him a beautiful felt rose, but it is so realistic Muku doesn’t notice it’s not a real plant until he is holding it.

“The hack couldn’t even find a real rose and had to buy something fake, huh?”

“Shut up! I wasn’t going to give him something that would wither away and disappear when all of your gifts will be permanent.”

“Ohh, the hack didn’t want to be left out.”

“Thank you so much, Tenma!” Muku quickly interrupts before their little quarrel can escalate.

“Muku, here’s my gift,” Kumon speaks next, handing him what looks like a typical friendship bracelet, except, it is formed by roses threaded together.

“Kumon, you did this? It’s so cute!” he says rotating the bracelet in his hands.

“And last but not least,” Kazunari makes a sound like drum rolls and gives him a little canvas where he has painted a rose. “HVD, Mukkun!”

“Kazu, guys…” Muku looks up from all the gifts that are now nestled on his lap. Tears are already forming in his eyes. “Thank you so much, I can’t even begin saying how much this all means to me.”

From then on, Muku decides to create a friendship altar on his desk, where he places all the gifts he received from his fellow Summer Troupe members, his friends, his family.

Valentine’s Day has been forever marked in Muku’s heart, but for completely different reasons to what he once thought. The feeling these objects represent accompanies him and comforts him, inspiring him to show his own affections to other people throughout the rest of the year.

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Interactions and feedback are always highly appreciated <3

Masterlist | AO3

Please do NOT repost. Reblogging is okay! Characters belong to their rightful owners, the plot and content here belongs to @moonstruck-writing

[eileen-crys]

Johnica Week 2021 (12-18 January)

Hi everyone! After a lot of uncertainties and overthinking finally I decided to pull myself together and organise a 2nd edition of the Johnica Week! Exactly like all the Queen Ship Weeks this event is meant to express some love to a couple by using your creativity! Once again the week dedicated to John and Veronica Deacon is set during the week of their wedding anniversary, the 46th this year, which takes place on Jan 18th! 💜 Since now that day is a Monday the Week begins on a Tuesday and ends on a Monday, I hope y'all don't mind.

💕 The tag here on Tumblr and also on Instagram is #johnicaweek2021 , remember to use it for your entries! THIS is the new AO3 collection, where you can upload your fics!

💕 At the end of the event I'll make a Masterlist with all the entries. HERE is the one from last year, take a look at it! Also HERE is the AO3 collection of last year’s event!

💕 Under the cut there's the prompt list. Some of them are from last year's event, some are brand new! Your entries can be fluff, smut, angst, written pieces, drawings, comics, moodboards, edits... anything you want! You're free to use the prompts as you prefer: you can use one or more than one prompt together for a single work, get inspired by the songs I added as extra prompts or put it directly in the fic or even completely ignore it, mismatch the prompts and the AUs, etc... You're free to do a piece a day, just some of them or even a single one for the whole week, all that matters is that your contribution, small or big, is always highly appreciated! Don't feel forced to join or to overwork yourself, it's meant to be a fun and relaxing event ✌🏻💕 [Cont.]

💖 PROMPTS:

DAY 1 ~ Tuesday Jan 12

• No kids day

• First time

• New haircut

• Photography

+ “Friends will be Friends”

DAY 2 ~ Wednesday Jan 13

• Songwriting

• Cuddling

• Japan

• Fantasy AU

+ “In only Seven Days”

DAY 3 ~ Thursday Jan 14

• Soulmates AU

• Touring together

• Pregnancy

• Tight clothes

+ “Cool Cat”

DAY 4 ~ Friday Jan 15

• Getting caught 👀

• Social Media AU

• Forgiving

• Bodyswap

+ “Need your Loving Tonight”

DAY 5 ~ Saturday Jan 16

• Nowadays

• Superhero/Superpowers AU

• Far from Home

• Memories

+ “Was it all worth it”

DAY 6 ~ Sunday Jan 17

• In sickness and health

• On holiday

• Playing with the kid(s)

• Chasing your heart

+ “You and I”

DAY 7 ~ Monday Jan 18 💖

• Wedding day/night

• Anniversary

• Royalty AU

• Dancing

+ “You’re my best friend”

💕 NOTE: As you can see I added some AUs in the prompts, but didn't put other very popular AUs such as Fem!Queen (or King AU) where Joan and Veronica are a lesbian couple, genderbent AUs (Fem!John and Male!Ronnie), ABO of any kind and Modern/other timeline AUs, etc. This is in case you want to write your favourite AU for all/some of the prompts instead of being linked to a single specific day. Also you can mix the AUs like Royalty AU and Fem!Queen idk just have fun and be creative! 👀

🔥🔥🔥 IMPORTANT: During the event, if any of you/your entries recieve hateful comments or messages towards you, your entries, the Johnica ship, the event or other creators, please DELETE the hateful comment/message right away with no interactions and let me know! This is no place for haters, just for creativity and love.

🔥 This event is purely made to show some love and appreciation from the Queen fandom to Deaky and Ronnie, always respecting their privacy and their lives! We don't know many personal aspects of their love life and don't want to go in too deeply, gossip or speculate about them, so you can fly with your fantasy to fill up the gaps! All the entries, whether they're inspired by real events or not, are ALL FICTIONAL! So be creative!

Ask me and @john-deacon-fucks if you need any advices or clarifications, we'll be happy to help you if possible! (Ex. Not sure if a woman in a pic with John is Ronnie? Need to know their kids' birthdays or a hand with timelines? Have doubts or want suggestions for your piece? Etc.) This project is meant as a tribute and not as a chance to invade their private lives, judge or harm them in any way, so BE RESPECTFUL towards them and towards the creators!

Happy Johnica week everyone, I hope to see lots of entries! 💜

Header pic edited by me (eileen-crys) • Soulmates Text dividers by @firefly-graphics • YMBF text pic by @80sroger

[sarah-snook]

Can you rec some of your favorite it fics? Reddie and other pairings too?

i sure can! i have so many SO MANY. here are 15 of my many faves with some recs for other works by these authors sprinkled in!!!!!

i can be your hero by @richietoizer​| Reddie | T | 2,205 |an accidental confession fic where eddie finds a college essay richie wrote about him. IT’S CUTE Y’ALL this fic is seriously so slept on. all of ashley’s fics are amazing and literally *chef’s fucking kiss* of course she has her amazing AMTS and SCL fics that everyone should read but this one is just so cute!!! ashley is an amazing writer and i would read anything she contributes to the fandom. she has various WIPs that are amazing as well and that i would HIGHLY recommend you read like the real world and took too many hits off this memory. i love ashley with all my heart and will always be one of her biggest fans but i swear to god, putting my love for her aside, she has a fucking gift for writing. everything she writes is pure fucking gold!

Help Me Remember by @jem-carstairs-is-perfection| Reddie | T | 3,138 |jem carstairs is perfection? more like monse’s writing is perfection! i had a really hard time choosing just one fic of hers because they’re all SO GOOD. she’s literally my fave writer and i love her so much. she’s amazing at prompt fills too! ugh i cannot stop saying good things about mochi she’s just That. Good. in this one, richie gets drunk and makes out with someone and can’t remember who it is the next day so he tries to find out who it is. i highly recommend reading anything by monse because she is a very talented writer. she’s literally a fluff queen but she also knows how to break your heart…but she’ll always put it back together in the end! 

Tandem by @s-s-georgie | Steddie | T | 4,413 |“Everyone finds their soulmate… eventually.” a steddie soulmate au…THE fic that got me hooked on steddie in the first place. just like monse, leigh knows how to break your heart…but she’s also amazing at writing the softest and most tender fic. i ALWAYS rec tender and she’s sick of it. (go read that reddie fic i promise you’ll love it) and if bottom richie is your thing, leigh writes some of the best bottom richie fic as well so i would totally read her fics if i was you :’)

your heartbeat is the only sound I wanna hear by @eddiefuckinkaspbrak| Reddie | E | 16,008 |this is a deaf!eddie college au. amy did a lovely job with this fic and it’s one of my faves! amy is talented writer who has various one shots and multi chapter fics to read. she’s a freaking prompt QUEEN! she has so much to offer and i recommend binging her list of ao3 fics! i can’t even name a couple other fics of hers because it’s hard to choose from they’re all so good! just go read all her stuff and see for yourself!!! 

relationship status: dumbass by @tozierking| Reddie | E | 10,925 |Eddie turns away, but Richie can still see the blush rise to his cheeks, the color deepening when Richie brushes a finger over his knee. Huh. “You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?” Richie grins, the big, toothy one that he knows makes Eddie snort and loosen up. “You want my dick. I knew it.”Eddie makes one of those special Richie shut the fuck up noises, and mumbles, “Yeah, I guess.” allie is a smut QUEEN and i love all of her work. she is such a great writer and i love her so much!!!

a toast and a spirit by @michelllejones| Reddie | T | 13,348 |This was Richie Tozier, his best friend, the Richie he had known for a little more than half his life, the Richie that lent his Pokémon cards to him after only knowing him for two days, the Richie that watched The Exorcist with him for the very first time and let Eddie cling to him through all the gory parts, that kept spare packs of Little Debbie’s Nutty Bars and S’mores Pop-tarts in his pantry just for him—it was Richie and then It Was Richie, and Eddie didn’t even try to put up a fight. The battle was lost before it had even begun, and maybe Eddie didn’t want to fight anymore. LISTEN i put the entire summarry because it’s perfect. THIS FIC IS PERFECT. i love morgan’s writing so much god she knows how to make me cry, she knows how to make me FEEL. she knows how to make me laugh and smile when she wants to also. morgan is a writer who i def rec y’all should read fics from. her mind: GENIUS.

Bon Appetit by @tinyarmedtrex| Reddie | T | 2,855 |a cute one shot with chef!richie and resturant critic!eddie. amelia is an amazing writer who not only writes reddie, but a lot of other loser rare pairs. all her stuff is great and i highly recommend reading her fics!! she has a lot of one shots and various chapter fics that are AMAZING such as georgie has two daddies and operation: hawaii honeymoon!

A Little Less Romeo & Juliet, A Little More Touch Me by @tozierpunks| Reddie | T | 11,665 |When Eddie has a chance to play a lead role in his theater clubs’ take on Romeo & Juliet, he enlists his best friend, Richie Tozier, to pose as his boyfriend and help him snag the part. The only problem? Richie isn’t acting.

Puppy Love by @richietoaster​| Reddie | T | 8,122 |Eddie works at a dog kennel/shelter, and Richie falls for him fast.

Richie Tozier Loses All Hope by @onceyoukaspbrakyouneverkaspback| Reddie | T | 6,127 |Richie Tozier is worried that if his best friend figures out what’s been on his mind lately, everything good in his life will come crashing down.

say what you mean (out loud) by @edsbrak| Reddie | T | 7,404 |Richie can’t help it when something heavy refuses to leave his stomach, something relentless and daunting. He looks at Eddie and can’t help but want, can’t help but need, watching this boy watch the stars and thinking he would be happy to spend the rest of his life just like this, right here standing next to him.[Or, Richie realizes he likes Eddie and promptly goes through the five stages of grief.]

and this is who we are by @lo-v-ers| Reddie | M | 40,763 |In which Eddie and Beverly lie to their friends for five years before finally coming out, much to the surprise of one supposedly straight Richie Tozier.

The Power of Sexting by @eddiesleftarm| Reddie | E | 4,085 |Richie accidentally sends Eddie a shirtless picture. Things escalate from there.Or, Richie and Eddie play Gay Chicken: Sexting Edition.

What’s My Name? by chattrekisses| Reddie | NR | 4,252 |Richie is new in town and finds a number carved next to some suggestive graffiti and decides to call it. Who he finds on the other line is Eddie, a sassy hypochondriac who is done with Richie’s shit.In class, Richie knows Eddie only as Kaspbrak, and they flirt viciously. Eddie makes Richie a deal; if Richie can guess Eddie’s first name within three tries, Eddie will kiss him.

oh, somebody loves you by slytherincosette| Reddie | NR | 12,341|Amortentia is encountered in Potion’s class and everything goes to shit. Basically a romantic comedy set at Hogwarts. Everyone is Bad At Feelings, until they’re not.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Wayhaven Week, Day 7

For Wayhaven Week 2020, hosted by @otomefandomevents. Thanks for having this week, it’s been so much fun seeing what everyone comes up with and getting back to knocking the rust off my own writing.  I haven’t completed a fandom event in some time and it feels really nice to contribute to all seven days!

Prompt: Mend Pairing: Mason/Zoe Dawson Warnings: in-book level violence, slight injury mention, tiny Book 2 villain spoilers Word Count: 1,662 Summary: Take a hike in the woods, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Worst. Date. Ever.

There was something to be said about a warm shower after being soaked to the bone from getting caught in the rain. Zoe curled up in her bed at the Warehouse, the duvet draped over her shoulders like a cape, and concentrated on the material in her hands.  Rain still pounded against the windows, but she was grateful to be indoors instead of out in it.

There was a sharp knock on her door and she turned her head in time to see Mason come in, a mug of something in his hands. “Thought you might need it,” he offered, handing it out to her.

She took a deep inhale, enjoying the scent of freshly brewed coffee as the warmth of the mug seeped into her hands. “Thanks.” She pat the side of the bed. “There’s room enough for two over here, you know.”

Mason smirked, but didn’t hesitate to slide into bed with her. “Just can’t wait to get me in bed with you, could you, Sweetheart?”

Zoe rolled her eyes and set the mug on the bedside table to concentrate on what she had been doing. “That is such a tired line, Sunshine.”

“And yet it still manages to work.” He rested his chin on her shoulder and looked down at the material in her lap. “Is that my shirt?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing with it?”

She held up the needle and thread. “Well,” she started, continuing to stitch as she talked, “you have a hole in your shirt where a hole doesn’t belong and I’m patching it up for you.”

“Didn’t know you knew how to sew.”

“Brace yourself: I also know how to embroider.” She smiled at his soft snort of laughter, his arms casually draping around her to bring her back flush to his chest, his legs bracketing her hips. “You should check out my Etsy shop.”

“I really don’t see you as the type to do those Live, Laugh, Love or Home Sweet Home type samplers.”

“No, but do you see me being the type to do elaborately done flowers surrounding Fuck this Shit or Don’t be a Dick on it?”

His arms tightened around her waist. “Yeah. Yeah, I totally see something like that coming from you.”  He silently watched as the long gash on his shirt’s sleeve was mended, Zoe making stitches so small that he had a hard time trying to see where it had been cut in the first place. “I’m okay.”

She froze, hands reaching for the travel sized pair of scissors in her mini-sewing kit she had brought along with her in an overnight bag once that had managed to just eventually stay at the Warehouse. “I know you are.” Her fingers smoothed over the mended material. It was drying, but she had scrubbed the sleeve to make sure she got all his blood off before she started sewing. “Why wouldn’t you be?” She closed her eyes, desperately trying to tamp down on the fear that had seized her earlier that evening.  She and Mason had been on patrol on the outskirts of town, following up on a tip that some leftover Trappers had made a temporary base of operations somewhere in one of the many abandoned industrial buildings that dotted the countryside.  It was supposed to be a quick reconnaissance only mission, just observe and take note of their whereabouts and then report back so the entire unit could go neutralize them.

And the evening had been incredibly quiet too. The two of them had made their usual banter as they hiked, but Zoe had stopped to simply enjoy the peaceful look on Mason’s face the further they got from town. 

And then the bottom had dropped out of the sky. It had looked like rain all day long, but then again, it had looked like rain for the past week without anything to speak of, so neither of them had expected the sudden thunderstorm to hit.  Luckily, they had been close to the old abandoned steelworks that hadn’t seen anyone in it since probably the seventies. Zoe’s foot had slipped in the softening dirt and while she had wrenched her ankle pretty badly, at least Mason had saved her from a face full of mud by catching her and slinging her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes as he sprinted the last few feet towards shelter.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t been the only ones to find the steelworks. Zoe was hopping on one foot while cursing her ankle when she realized that Mason had gone absolutely still, the sound of his warning snarl warring with the rumbling thunder outside. She’d barely had a second to unholster the Volt from her hip before the Trappers they’d accidentally discovered attacked.  Luckily, even as outnumbered as they were, they’d had the slight advantage of being on their feet where most of the Trappers had been seated around a makeshift fire.  Mason had made quick work of most of them while Zoe had taken down her share, adrenaline making her forget about her twisted ankle.

She had been in the middle of cuffing the unconscious Trappers with their own supply of zip ties when she noticed Mason inspecting his forearm, his free hand digging into his back pocket for a cigarette before realizing that the rain had ruined what was left in the pack.  She wouldn’t have said anything, except she happened to catch the way blood dripped down his arm to spatter on the dusty concrete at his feet.  She’d hobbled to his side as fast as she could, hands ready to rip her own shirt to act as a makeshift bandage before Mason had shoved his sleeve up to his elbow, showing her that while the skin underneath was bloody, it was whole.

One quick phone call to Adam had the rest of Unit Bravo, accompanied by several other agents to transport their quarry, at their location within minutes. She’d protested, but Mason hadn’t listened to her as he scooped her up in his arms and settled her into the back of the SUV Adam had been driving. To his credit, he hadn’t argued when she plucked the cigarette from his lips that he had lit from the pack he found in the back seat console to smoke for herself, he merely sparked up a second one and reached out to grab her foot and keep it elevated on his lap for the remainder of the ride back to the Warehouse.

The debriefing had been quick, both of them tired of being soaked to the bone and their replies snippier than they probably both meant for them to be.  Blessedly, Nate had been the one to suggest calling it a night, seeing that they had gotten enough details for a preliminary report and they’d get back to it after a change of clothes and a good night’s sleep.  For her part, Zoe had shot Adam an apologetic glance before limping towards her room.  There was a silent sorry for being grouchy that was left unsaid between them, but she felt better when he sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly and his eyes softening as he nodded in understanding.

Mason had surprisingly left her alone to shower once he was satisfied that she was able to put weight on her ankle and move around by herself.  Luckily it hadn’t swelled much and after using a wrap from the first aid kit she found underneath the bathroom sink, felt a lot better than it had earlier.

“At least no one died this time,” Mason told her, his mouth muffled by her shoulder and bringing her back to the present.

“No one died the last time,” she countered, turning her head to look at him.  “Though you came damn close.”

“Still here, aren’t I?”  He held her closer, his chin nudging her oversized shirt’s neckline out of the way so he could press a kiss to her exposed shoulder, then another to the side of her neck. “You can’t let one time get to you.”

She exhaled. “I know. Letting things get to me means I become a liability.”  She frowned. “But I didn’t freeze.” In the moment, she had channeled all her fear at the possibility of Mason making a repeat performance of being overwhelmed with no one around to help them into pure rage, attacking hard and fast so the Trappers wouldn’t have an opportunity to hurt him.

“No, you didn’t.” There was a thread of pride in his voice as he shifted closer.  “You did good, Zo.”

“You weren’t too shabby yourself, Mason.” She held up his finished shirt. “Even if you did get tagged in the end.”

He made a dismissive noise against her skin. “Better me than you. At least I heal up without needing stitches.” Mason reached out and took the shirt from her hands.  “Damn, this is good work.”

“You think? I tried to make the stitches small so you wouldn’t feel them against your arm.”

Mason put his hand into the mended sleeve and try as he might, he couldn’t even tell where the rip had happened. “Can’t feel a thing.  I wish we’d teamed up earlier, you could have saved a bunch of my clothes from getting trashed after missions.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Well, I can’t have that. You look damn hot in this shirt.” She moved so she could set her sewing materials on the nightstand next to the now-abandoned mug of coffee. “Though you look damn hot out of it too.”

Mason chuckled. “You flirting with me, Sweetheart?”

“Fucking trying to, Sunshine.”  Zoe laughed when Mason tumbled them both across the bed, somehow pulling the duvet out from between them in the process.  He grinned against her mouth as she tangled her hands in his hair and it wasn’t long before the two of them were lost in the other, the thunder and rain outside muting the world around them.

[broccolianddandelion]

Chapter 277: In which Deku contemplates the worst-case scenario

It’s losing One for All, right? Okay, that would suck big time. But Midoriya’s heroism is grounded in his heart, and his feelings for his sensei trump the more rational part of his brain that Gran Torino appealed to. Both Gran Torino and Aizawa look absolutely shocked by Midoriya’s choices, and remember Aizawa doesn’t even know about OfA.

Bakugou’s position in this panel suggests that he shares Midoriya’s sentiments.

Remember when we first met Aizawa, way back in Chapter 5? Dead eyes, pure apathy.

All his noises about rationality and resources. On fact, clinging to rationality poorly obscures how much he is subject to his heart.

The kids know it though. Aizawa’s expression here is that of a man whose child has just shocked him and broken his heart a little.

He remembers that he thought Midoriya could not become a hero with the early limitations of his quirk, and now Aizawa’’s getting a glimpse of Midoriya’s hidden/latent power--all to save Aizawa’s life.

Before we can get too carried away on a raft of Aizawa feels, Bakugou jumps in with a new move.

Bakugou and Midoriya attempt to take on Shigaraki themselves, which is just like, how did this happen? This fight should not fall on the shoulders of these kids, when yay! Endeavor finally jumps back in the fray.

And he asks the question of the arc--Where’s Shoto? There’s a world of meaning packed into those two words. Todoroki’s actions or lack thereof in this arc seems to be a source of angst in the fandom. Let’s remember, though, that saving is as important as winning even if it’s not as glamorous. But story-wise it feels a little weird for Todoroki to be sidelined. I know this will be a source of disagreement, but in terms of the narrative,I think the manga has always been building towards the Deku-[insert Bakugou’s hero name] show (I haven’t seen the movie, but it kind of surprises me that that they used the OfA trick and didn’t save it for the final battle.) In any case, I expect to see Todoroki now that Endeavor’s back in the fight. And frankly, it would be odd for Todoroki to ditch Uraraka, Iida, and Asui, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they showed up too, even though I don’t see what they would contribute to the story at this point.

Back to the main question--Where’s Shoto? Endeavor’s meaning here is unclear. Is he wondering why Todoroki didn’t show up for the fight? Does he want to make sure Todoroki’s safe? I think it’s the latter case, in that he is thinking of Todoroki less as a masterpiece and more as a son, which tracks with Endeavor’s overall arc.

Everyone’s saying Shigaraki is basically unbeatable, and Bakugou’s all, “Tch.”

I think it is interesting that Endeavor calls Bakugou “Bakugou” here. It means that Endeavor does not know Bakugou’s hero name. In a non-story world, as Bakugou’s internship supervisor, Endeavor would probably know Bakugou’s hero name, since it is his work identity. But that would not be Dramatic.

Endeavor actually has a reasonable plan, given the fact that he’s working with two students. He sends the boys out of the direct line of fire but still gives them an absolutely critical role in the battle.

Endeavor probably should have been more specific about what “guarding Deku” actually means, though, as Bakugou takes the opportunity to nuke Shigaraki. Rock Lock’s, Aizawa’s, and Manual’s expressions are priceless. Aizawa probably only suspected the extent of Bakugou’s power.

Bakugou’s explosion opens the way for Endeavor’s Vanishing Fist, and I can only imagine what that does. Endeavor keeps pulling out these super moves, proving once again why he is the Number 1 hero, even if his actions, at least prior to the manga, are not always heroic.

Gotta end with Mt. Lady vs. Gigantomachia. As per my reblog, I would love Mt. Lady to have a Moment, given how few of the female heroes have had opportunities to shine, Mirko being the obvious exception.

As always, there’s a ton more in this chapter about Shigaraki and All for One, as well as a sad moment when Gran Torino attacks Shigaraki. I just pull out the panels that speak to my interests in the story. Take that as you will, and enjoy the chapter.

[queencarolinemikaelson]

Beyond Mikaelson

Klaroline Bingo as hosted by @klaroline-events Prompt // Dagger

This is set early season three, and is fairly canon compliant until then, except Caroline is an Original. Very Mikaelson heavy, and a little bit gruesome/gory in parts. It’s also very long.

This will be my last contribution to KC Bingo, thank you so much to the team at @klaroline-events​! I wouldn’t have got any of these out without prompting, and I’m glad to have participated in another fandom event! xxx

/

“Rebekah, where are you? Pick up the phone darling, daddy’s dead. It’s time for a family reunion.”

Klaus Mikaelson’s phone beeped quietly, signalling he had a call waiting on another line.

The hybrid couldn’t help the smug smirk that crossed his lips as the name Stefan Salvatore flashed on the screen.

This was going to be fun.

“Stefan! Miss me already?”

“I’m just calling to thank you for my freedom,” Stefan said on the other end of the phone, sounding far too sardonic.

“Well I like to believe I’m a man of my word… more or less,” Klaus smirked.

“The thing is,” Stefan continued. “It came at too high of a price. You took everything from me, Klaus.”

“Let bygones be bygones, trust me. Resentment gets old.”

“You know what never gets old?” Stefan asked, in a tone that had alarm bells ringing in Klaus’ mind. “Revenge.”

As the line went dead, and Klaus opened the back of his van, only to reveal nothing, Stefan’s words truly sank in.

And Klaus felt a white-hot rage bubble through his veins; a rage unprovoked in centuries.

/

It would be weeks until Klaus’ coffins were returned, and when they were, Klaus’ shoulders sagged in relief.

They were safe.

They were home.

They could be whole again; all five of them.

Wait… five?

Any shred of tension that left his body instantly returned.

There were five coffins, five.

Klaus often thought of there being only five in his family, which was likely why it took him so long to cotton to the fact he shouldn’t have five coffins.

He should have six.

Quaking with unparalleled rage, and a panic long lost to time, Klaus tore at the lids from the caskets, flinging each open so roughly he nearly destroyed their hinges.

Elijah.

Finn.

Rebekah.

Kol.

Klaus squeezed his eyes together for a moment, as he stood before the final coffin, knowing everything had a fifty-fifty chance of being okay. If they were together, they would be okay.

But as Klaus tried to open the box, he was met with complete resistance.

And he knew, that box belonged to his mother.

And he just knew, they had her.

His hands shaking, Klaus pulled his phone from his pocket, dialling Stefan’s number.

“Hello there Klaus, not the family reunion you were expecting?”

The young vampire sounded so gleeful that Klaus mentally signed his death wish then and there. Their history be damned, there was no repenting for this.

“Where is the sixth coffin, Stefan?” he asked, his voice shaking as much as his hands.

“Well, see, the thing is Klaus, we found your little cave paintings. We can account for everyone in the coffins, except for this one. She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she? I’m not letting loose an unknown entity in my town, Klaus. Not now. Not ever.”

“Stefan, I suggest you listen…”

“No, Klaus, you listen,” Stefan interrupted. “You’ll get a map. You’ll be able to find at least some of her. And that’s a promise.”

“Stefan, if I do not have her back before sunset, you will regret it.”

“You took everything from me, Klaus,” Stefan cried, his gleeful composure making way for his true anger. “I can’t regret anything anymore than I already do.”

“You have five hours, Stefan. For the sake of this town I hope you hand over my box,” Klaus said, coldly. “The consequences of this will be yours, and yours alone.”

Klaus hung up. He didn’t need any more of Stefan’s amateur postulating.

Nothing mattered, not without her.

Without much more than a heartbeat, Klaus circled the room, removing each dagger from the chests of his siblings.

He couldn’t worry about how they would react to him.

Not now.

/

It took nearly three hours before all his siblings were awake, each waking in their own time; Bekah first, Finn last.

And during that time, it had become quite apparent that, Elijah and Finn at least would not be easily swayed into helping him.

“I don’t much care that you finally killed our Father, I will never mistake our brotherhood for trustworthiness again, Niklaus,” Finn said, in the old, awkward tongue they all once spoke.

“I’m afraid I may have to agree with our eldest brother,” Elijah said, coldly, true betrayal shining in his eyes.

“I never trusted any of you,” Kol said melodramatically, eager to stir the pot. Yes, he was a little miffed that he’d been in a box for about 200 years – but had daggered and undaggered his brothers (never Bekah though) many times himself over the years. Who was he to judge?

It was Rebekah – of course it was Rebekah – who first noticed Klaus’ haunted expression.

“What is it, Nik,” she whispered, fearing the answer.

“It’s Caroline,” he said.

Her name dropped from his lips like a secret, and immediately every Mikaelson ear was tuned in, and listening.

“They have Caroline.”

Caroline was a name buried by time. It was a secret more fiercely protected than any other the Mikaelsons’ held. For she always was their saviour.

“Who are they?” Finn asked.

“The vampire who has her is named Stefan Salvatore. I need your help. We can’t let him hurt her,” Klaus explained, his sparing vulnerability revealed, even if fleetingly.

Klaus’ vulnerability, coupled with their love for their baby sister, steeled the nerves of the Mikaelson siblings. Klaus may have long since given up his right for family trust, and may have done vile and cruel things to each of them over the years. But then they all had.

Except for Caroline. Her unwavering support and love for them transcended the centuries they lived together. She would care for them, laugh with them, cry with them. And through it all, she brought a sparkling joy to their lives.

Until one day, the horrors of being a Mikaelson caught up with her, and she tried to leave. She did it with such grace; such respect.

But they had not taken kindly to her desertion, and had laid to to rest because of it.

There wasn’t a waking moment since that day, when each Mikaelson hadn’t felt their guilt keenly.

“I hope she forgives us,” Kol said quietly.

“Let’s just… get her back first,” Finn said.

“What do you need us to do?”

/

Caroline’s eyes were shut as she began wriggling her toes, revelling in the feeling of stretching through the awful stiffness. In her first moments awake, she felt dread and betrayal, though she couldn’t for the life of her work out where those emotions came from…

Birds were chirping in the distance, the air was fresh, and it seemed like an all-round good day to be alive.

Though she was almost instantly disabused of that notion, as she made a move to roll over, and was met with searing pains shooting through her body.

Her eyes flew open, and her heart raced, as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings; very low light, menacing stone walls, vervain soaked ropes and chains firmly tying her to a jagged wooden table. A bloodied silver dagger was on the ground, not too far from her, as though it had been pulled from her and tossed away.

A dagger.

And suddenly, Caroline’s agonised confusion made way for terrible remembrance.

/

“I want to travel alone for a while.”

Caroline spoke so softly, but so resolutely, that the light mood around the table seemed to still, as her statement was met with looks of confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Elijah said, incredulously, breaking the silence after a moment.

“I want to travel alone,” her voice was steady, but she dared not meet anyone’s eyes just yet. “I love every single one of you, more than my heart can bear. But families are meant to go their separate ways at some point, to live as their own souls.”

Caroline began fiddling with her fingers nervously, but continued to speak, knowing this was her only chance to convince them of her pure intentions.

“And we are a family cursed with eternity. Yes, we are sometimes stronger together, but we’re also angrier, bloodier, more terrifying. I want to discover a world beyond our existence, we have eternity to be together, what will a few decades, maybe a century, of time alone mean in a thousand years?”

“It’ll mean you left us for a few decades, maybe a century,” Finn said, coolly. “Are we not enough for you, little sister?”

“No, it’s not…”

“Caroline, you can’t leave,” Rebekah began.

“You are our sister,” Kol pleaded.

And thus, the damn of silence was broken, each sibling layering their own heartbreak and panic over the next.

“How could you possibly do this?”

“Are we that horrible a –”

“What did I ever –”

“This desertion is –”

“Please, Caroline, please.”

The only to remain silent was Klaus, fury and fear etched in every line of his face, choosing instead to regard her with the coldest of eyes – silence had always been his knife of choice with her.

“We’ll be better. I’ll try and –”

“Who on earth will –”

“You are to leave us, just like them, and –”

“ENOUGH!”

Her own anger and frustration at their judgement of her bubbled over and she couldn’t help the as the scream leapt from her mouth, her eyes turning dark, veins snaking up her face.

“Would this have been easier if I left with absolutely no warning? If I just snuck off in the middle of the night? Without saying goodbye?” Caroline asked, disbelievingly, into the silence her loss of control had created. “I love each and everyone of you, and we will see each other again. But I just want to live, for myself.”

There was silence for another moment, until Klaus finally spoke up.

“And what if Mikael finds you?”

His voice was frank, nearly nasty, and Caroline wished her husband could understand.

“He won’t, I will be less conspicuous on my own,” Caroline replied softly, the sad truth of her statement wracking through her family.

Klaus glared at her, the fear of losing her slowly seeping from his body before their very eyes, making way for only fury.

“Oh yes, Caroline, run away like the little girl from the village who could never see me with Tatia. Run away like the true Forbes your blood says you are. Remember when your parents ran from you? Because you were a monster? You will always be a monster, Caroline.”

His voice was malicious, cruel, but Caroline knew him, she knew him better than anyone, and she knew this was his way of making it hurt less.

It didn’t make it okay, but it did steel within her that this was the right choice for her.

“It won’t be forever, Nik, I promise,” Caroline said, gently placing a hand over his. “Just a little while.”

And with that, and all the grace in the world, Caroline rose, and smiled wanly at those around the table.

“I’m going to bed for the night, we can resume this discussion in the morning.”

As she retreated, she thought she heard Elijah say, “what are we to do about this?” but she blocked it out. Her mind was made up, their pleas and arguments for her to stay would not sway her.

The next morning, Caroline woke just after daybreak. She felt somewhat numb, as she relived the previous evening, but relieved that she finally shared her desires.

She rose quickly, and decided to prepare a meal for them all to share; a last supper of sorts.

As she bustled to the kitchen, she was surprised to find Rebekah already there, as the other woman usually liked to stay in bed far later than dawn.

“Good morning, Bekah,” Caroline said, softly smiling at her, as she leant against the bench next to her sister. “You’re up early.”

A flicker of something unreadable flashed over Rebekah’s face before it was extinguished with a warm smile.

“I feel awful about last night, I couldn’t sleep,” Rebekah said, real sorrow in her eyes, as she took Caroline’s hand. “You’re my sister, Caroline, and I don’t want you to leave.”

“I know, my love,” Caroline said, resting her head on Rebekah’s shoulder. “You could come with me, you know, the Mikaelson girls against the world.”

Rebekah frowned, and Caroline’s face lit up excitedly.

“Yes! Just imagine, we could go wherever we want, love whomever we please,” Caroline’s face fell a little before continuing. “I love Nik, always and forever, but it’s been over 200 years since our wedding. I think I’ve seen him share his love with dozens upon dozens of others, because I understand that life for us is different. But he’s never shown me the same mercy. Not once.”

“I could come?” Rebekah said, her mind racing with the possibilities. “What about wanting to leave us?”

“It’s not about leaving you, or any of you, it’s about living beyond this family. Living as Caroline, not as a Mikaelson. Don’t you ever want to just live slowly? Where the day is cherished, and longed for, rather than feared?”

“We have to fear the day, Caroline, we are vampires!”

“Yes, the original vampires that can only be killed by our deranged father! Living slowly means we won’t have to fear Mikael’s retribution, because he will never be able to find us!”

For a moment, Rebekah let herself dream of a life beyond the Mikaelson name. A life with only Caroline by her side, as sisters. Her sister had always been the best of her family – the most compassionate, the gentlest, the kindest.

But she shook herself; that life could not happen. That life belonged to a girl who died many years ago.

“Caroline, it is a life I do not want, I love my brothers too much.”

The two blondes looked sadly at each other, until Caroline squeezed the hand still holding Rebekah’s and sprung into action.

“Well, let us not waste this day then, my dear sister!” she said brightly. “I was going to cook a feast for our family, care to help me?”

Rebekah smiled, and nodded. Caroline once again missing the flash of guilt across her sister’s face.

It was a few hours before the two women finished their creation, and Caroline sent Bekah away to gather their brothers for the meal, as she picked up the final dish for the table.

It was a beautifully decorated ceramic dish her family purchased her as a gift, even before the six of them turned. She had treasured it and cared for it ever since. She would undoubtedly miss this place, her family, and all the adventures that came along with them – but she hoped it would do some good; learn that a family can exist as individuals.

“Good morning,” Caroline said cheerfully, as she made it to the dining area where each of her siblings were awkwardly standing around waiting for her. “Where’s Niklaus?”

She peered around, trying to find the eyes of her husband. In her distraction, Caroline didn’t notice the predatory ring her family was making around her, until she heard a light ‘whooshing’ sound, and suddenly her husband was in front of her, a glinting silver dagger in his grasp.

“I’m sorry, Caroline,” he whispered, as he plunged it into her chest.

As a reflex, Caroline’s hands flew to grasp her husband’s arms, her beautiful dish falling from her hands, becoming a mess on the tiles below.

“Please, have mercy, Niklaus,” she gurgled, as the ice cold pain worked its way through her body from her heart outwards. Her eyes flicked to the faces of her siblings, and it absolutely shattered her heart to see them watch this happen – knowing they knew this was coming.

Her eyes flicked back to Klaus’ in her last moment, and she didn’t see regret or remorse or love. She saw only fear.

/

Caroline let the memories and pain wash over her, and cursed herself for not being more like her family.

For if she had listened to their scheming that night, had been more mistrustful she would have learned that fleeing in the middle of the night is what she should have done.

She let out a desolate sob.

She sobbed out of fear of not knowing where she was, or when she was. She sobbed out of utter desperation for the pain shooting now constantly through her body. And she sobbed out of deep, deep betrayal at the hand of those she so loved.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

A snide voice came from a shrouded corner of the room, and Caroline was immediately silent. Her grief was for her alone, not this stranger.

“Torture time!”

The man moved from the shadows, to reveal a sadistic, smug smile – that was not dissimilar to an expression that was common on Niklaus’ face – and within an instant, had buried a jagged-edged knife into her side.

Caroline winced at the pain, but did her best to remain silent and defiant, unwilling to give this cretin the satisfaction.

“I’m going to chop you into little tiny pieces and make a scavenger hunt for the Hybrid that wants you back so desperately.”

He continued speaking as he stabbed her, and cut chunks from her flesh, but Caroline couldn’t decipher any of his words, the language he spoke far different from any she recognised.

So she did what she did best, she remained silent, and somewhat calm throughout terrible violence.

She nearly chuckled to herself at how compliant she had always been with her family. Letting them destroy towns and lives, for no reason other than the sport of it. And for them to repay that loyalty with a silver dagger, and goodness knows how many years in a coffin…

She was sickened with herself.

/

Klaus’s leg was twitching anxiously, waiting for the communications to come from his siblings.

The minute he had the green light, he would tear Stefan’s world down, piece by pathetic piece, for even considering toying with Caroline.

His phone buzzed with Rebekah’s name.

“Little sister?”

“Hello brother, almost every thing is in place. Finn has the quarterback and the teacher, I’ve got the doppelganger, thank you for lending me you electric razor, by the way! Kol has the witch and the doppelganger’s brother. The only issue is Elijah can’t find Damon.”

Klaus gritted his teeth.

“I think we might just start without Damon, then; we can’t wait any longer. Have Elijah help Kol instead,” Klaus said.

“And have you done your part, brother?”

“Of course I have,” Klaus snapped.

It was agreed that to lure to bait out, unfamiliar faces would be best – giving Finn, Kol, and even Elijah to an extent an advantage over Rebekah and Klaus. Though, Rebekah had put her foot down, saying she ‘dibs-ed’ the doppelganger.

And thus, Klaus’ task was to line the perimeter of the Salvatore estate with gasoline, and maybe something explosive, then dig a fire break around it, so if Stefan decided not to talk, they could control burn his life around his wretched ears.

“Are you on route?”

“Yes, we’re about five minutes away, I suppose,” Rebekah said.

“Make sure you all stagger your arrival for maximum impact,” Klaus ordered. “I want Stefan to feel hope until the very last moment.”

Without another word, Klaus hung up his call to Rebekah, and sprang into action.

And before those five minutes were up, Klaus was pulling up outside the Salvatore boarding house. He knocked commandingly on the front door, and was infuriated when he was met with a smug smirk from his former friend.

“Stefan, lovely to see you mate, I’m here to collect my prize.”

“Your prize, Klaus, isn’t here. As I said, you will never see her again, not in one piece anyway.”

For Caroline’s sake, Klaus did everything in his power to keep his calm.

“Well, in that case, perhaps we can remake an episode of This Is Your Life?”

As if on cue, Finn arrived, flashing to the front and dumping the unconscious bodies of Alaric and Matt at Stefan’s feet.

“Finn, brother, apparently Mr Salvatore here has plans to mince our darling sister, perhaps you could show him the same courtesy, using these two as surrogates of course.”

“With pleasure.”

Stefan looked between the two brothers, confused and wary, having been unable to decipher much of what they were saying.

But the meaning of the sentence wasn’t missed, as the brown haired Mikaelson bent down, and ripped the finger encasing the Gilbert ring clean from Alaric’s body, before turning to dislocate Matt’s shoulder, leaving it pointing in a wholly unnatural direction.

“Now I will ask again, Stefan, where is she?”

“I will never tell you,” Stefan spat, coldly disregarding the suffering of his friends.

“On your own head,” Klaus said, taking a step back, as Elijah and Kol, arrived on the scene, each restraining a struggling body.

“What would be the best way to torture these two?” Klaus mused aloud to his brothers.

“This one’s true torture will come in due course,” Elijah said, nonchalantly, his vice grip clamped around the muscular arms of Jeremy Gilbert. “However, I suppose I could inflict some physical torture. For effect, of course.”

“Well it’s easy for this pretty little thing,” Kol said, grinning wickedly, biting into his wrist, as forcing it to the mouth of Bonnie Bennett. “Break that connection with nature, become that disgusting creature she reviles so much.”

“Please, stop. Let me go,” Bonnie said, weakly, struggling meekly against Kol’s strong grip. “Stefan please, I can’t turn.”

“Tick-tock, Stefan, time does march on,” Klaus said. “Where is she?”

“I will not tell you,” Stefan said, furiously ignoring Bonnie’s whimpering pleas, or Jeremy’s grunts of pain.

“Fine then. Rebekah!” Klaus hollered over his shoulder.

Stefan furiously hoped they hadn’t found her. He’d told her to stay inside, to not come out for any reason. Surely she would be safe, surely she had –

But he was cut off mid-thought as a swath of brown hair was thrown in his face, and Elena’s perfect face came into view.

Stefan’s knees nearly buckled, taking in her appearance. Her face was tear-streaked, yes, but that was hardly noticeable through the blood dripping down her face from her mangled head, large chunks of skin ripped from her skull.

“I thought I would arrest her of that horribly boring hair of hers,” Rebekah said, poisonously. “It was just so straight all the time.”

“Stefan,” Elena snivelled. “Please, just tell them what they want, please.”

Stefan’s nostrils flared, and fury, and agony coursed through his veins.

“I will kill her Stefan,” Rebekah stated, her hands placing her hands on either side of Elena’s garbled face.

“What about his hybrids,” Elena said, desperately trying to bargain for her own life. “Without me, you don’t get anymore hybrids.

“You broke the curse, brother?” Kol asked.

Klaus smirked in replied and flicked his eyebrows.

“Well, congratulations!”

In lieu of responding, Klaus menacingly strode toward were Rebekah suspended Elena by her head in mid air.

“Without Caroline, hybrids mean nothing to me,” Klaus spat in her face. “So someone tell me, or all six of your pathetic little lives will be snuffed out in the most horrific way possible. And then I will find that horrendous brother, and snuff him as well. Then burn this town, and all its residents to the ground.”

The four conscious Mystic Falls residents stoically kept their silence, for a few moments, until Klaus said, “Fine then, Elijah!”

Before anyone could blink, Elijah had broken Jeremy’s back, and the young boy gargled out a cry of pain.

“No!” Elena shrieked.

“He has approximately a minute left, we can still heal him,” Klaus said, in a sing-song voice, radiating a wrath Stefan never thought possible. “Bonnie is next on the menu, and if she dies, well, we all know her fate.”

“She’s in the Lockwood cellar! With Damon,” Elena sobbed.

“Elena, no!”

“Please just help Jeremy, I need Jeremy.”

“Well, then, that wasn’t so hard,” Klaus said, as he narrowed a smirk at Stefan. “Heal the boy, Elijah. Then make them unable to follow us.”

Each Mikaelson sibling delivered a blow to their charge, and suddenly all was silent, as the whimpers and grunts of pain made way for heavy breathing.

“Does anyone actually know where this ‘Lockwood cellar’ actually is,” Kol said, letting Bonnie’s body flop unceremoniously to the dirt below.

“Well, no but I’m sure it can’t be that hard to find, given that there is a ‘Lockwood Estate’ only a few miles from here,” Klaus said. “Uh-uh-uh.”

It was at that moment Stefan attempted to run, though he made the mistake of passing Klaus, who stuck his hand out and grabbed the young vampire by the neck.

“You took everything from me, Klaus, and now this?”

“I warned you very clearly, Stefan,” Klaus said, coldly. “You and your gang have been quite lucky with your upper hand over me during the sacrifice. But I don’t fight with vigour much anymore, nothing is worth it. But you reunited the Mikaelson family, but kept one of our own to do with as you please.”

Klaus dug his fingers into Stefan’s neck, puncturing hole straight into his windpipe, and watched avidly as the blood drained from the wound.

“But Caroline, she is worth fighting for.”

Klaus dropped Stefan to the ground, only to stake him twice a moment later, one through each leg.

“Can’t you kill him already?” Rebekah whined. 

“No.”

“Can we still set the fire, at least?” Kol grinned, his eyes lighting up.

“Why not,” Klaus mused.

/

It had been over an hour of this man striking and maiming her. And she desolately thought that perhaps in whatever time it was now, not even her family were there for her anymore.

Throughout the hour, the man, who had identified himself as ‘Damon Salvatore’ – what a strange name – had moved her from being tied to a wooden plank, to being hung from the ceiling on suspended metal hooks.

“I had these installed, just for you,” he simpered, at some point or other, though Caroline still did not understand the language he spoke.

She was in desperate agony, as this man had arrested her of her fingers, then her hands, and now he was working on her legs. She still refused to give him the satisfaction of showing him how pained she truly was, but even she wasn’t sure why she was trying to be so stoic.

Damon raised a wooden knife to her face, and was just about to drag it across her cheek when there was a violent crash from above.

He whipped around, but before he could do anything, a figure flashed into the dark dungeon and slammed his body into the stone wall.

In her haze, she couldn’t quite make out the face, but at that moment, she lost her battle with consciousness and fell back into blackness once more.

/

“I know it’s impossible for her to be dead, but do you think she’s dead?”

“Shut it, Kol, she’ll be awake soon.”

“She’s had blood though, why isn’t she stronger?”

“The magic literally had to heal a foot, hands, fingers and ear that was cut off, obviously that’s going to take longer than a little gash in the palm.”

The first thing Caroline registered when she began to regain consciousness was the unmistakable sound of her siblings having a whispered argument. She’d heard similar conversations many times over their lives; outside doors they shouldn’t be outside of, over someone who was sleeping, in a crowded room of too many prying ears.

Though, unlike those times, she couldn’t understand what they were saying, for they too spoke in the same foreign tongue the man in the dungeon had spoken.

She nearly shuddered as she remembered the ordeal in the dungeon, but she didn’t want to reveal her consciousness just yet.

Though it didn’t seem as though she had a chance to rest any longer, as she felt a soft hand pick up her own and squeeze it.

“Caroline,” he said. “I know you awake.”

He spoke in a tongue she recognised, and that, more than anything, compelled Caroline to open her eyes. Her gaze was met with Klaus, his own eyes filled to the brim with love and care – very much at odds with how they looked the last time she saw them.

“Hello Niklaus,” she said, her voice small and delicate.

“Caroline!”

In an instant, each of her siblings were crowded around her, all of them vying for her attention; all of them saying how much they missed her, how sorry they were, making excuses for what they did to her.

“What year is it?” she said, ignoring their words, her voice trembling a little.

“2011.”

It was Klaus’ admission, not too small to take responsibility of his actions, though each sibling had nearly a thousand years’ worth of guilt on their face.

“2011?” she repeated. “So, I’ve been daggered in that box for…”

“Nearly nine hundred years,” Elijah finished.

“If it makes you feel any better, Caroline,” Finn said. “They got me only about 200 years after you, and I was only woken a few days ago.”

“Yes, and me and Bekah have been in and out of the boxes since about then as well.”

“Is this a joke to you?” she levelled Kol, who at the decency to look a little ashamed.

Caroline’s cold gaze moved to her husband – though it nearly revolted her to call him that now.

“And you… you’ve been living… awake… that whole time.”

“Yes, my love,” Klaus said, his deepest shame staring him in the face. “I will do anything to ensure your forgiveness. I love you, Caroline.”

Tears began to well in Caroline’s eyes at his proclamation. For he, still, after over 800 years apart loved her – or so he said.

And for Caroline, her love for him, and for her family, had not been time-tested. She had fallen asleep what felt like yesterday, and then woken up today, no time having passed at all. She loved them all like she loved them then – though their deep and unjust betrayal of her battled to be acknowledged.

“How is one supposed to live in 2011,” she asked. “You all seem to speak the same strange language that the man in the dungeon spoke.”

“It’s called English,” Kol said. “Old Finn over hear isn’t very familiar with it either, though he’s taken to it quite quickly.”

“There’s really a lot of things you would need to catch up on…” Rebekah said.

“Clothes, cars, television.”

“Electricity! The internet.”

“Hot showers – I guess, showers at all.”

“Flushing toilets.”

“Shorts and jeans!”

“Western medicine.”

Caroline listened closely as her siblings listed off so many words she never heard of, nor could even conceive, and it made her blood boil with anger.

“I think you all need to go,” she said, so quietly, they could barely hear her.

“But Caroline…”

“Go!” she spat. “Find something that will teach me this English, then stay away from me for a few days.”

/

Later that day, Caroline heard a knock at the door of her room.

The knock was light but firm, and Caroline just knew that it was Rebekah on the other side. Apparently some things hadn’t changed over the years.

Without waiting for Caroline to invite her in, Rebekah opened the door and stepped through it, a burly, unshaven man following her in.

“This is Alaric, he’s a teacher,” Rebekah said. “He’s going to teach you modern English. You shouldn’t have too much trouble with it, when you… left… we spoke what they now call ‘Middle English’. There is overlap with root words, and sentence structure. And in any case, you were always the best of us at picking up new skills.”

“I didn’t leave, Rebekah,” Caroline snapped. “The five of you put me down. For 800 years.”

Rebekah flushed furiously, but didn’t say anything, just left the room.

“Uh hi,” the man named Ric said. “I know you probably can’t understand what I’m saying, but I have no idea how to help you… I’m a history teacher, not an English-as-a-second-language teacher. But is there a difference to a thousand-year-old vampire who won’t take no for answer? No there’s not.”

Caroline smiled tight lipped at him, not catching a word more than ‘vampire’.

“This is a chair, I guess,” Ric said, pointing to the chair.

“Chair,” Caroline repeated.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ awkwardly. “Chair…”

/

Six weeks later

It had been over a month since Caroline and the rest of the Mikaelson’s had been reunited, and she was still with them in Mystic Falss.

She had been living quite the wild crash course in modern day life, and she was annoyed to admit, she was slipping back into old patterns with each of her siblings. Joking with Kol, reading with Elijah and Finn, giggling with Rebekah. She had even kissed Klaus a few times.

She was now pretty fluent in modern English, and knew about showers and the internet. She refused to get behind the wheel of a car, because she didn’t see the use of them at all anyway.

She was tentative friends with Ric, who she learned only yesterday had been compelled to teach her – a compulsion she freed him of immediately.

She was regaled with many things the family had done other the centuries, and had been given the run down of what went on in the little town of Mystic Falls, during the sacrifice, and the aftermath, as well as what had taken place to get her back.

And through all of this she had not left the Mikaelson Estate alone. It wasn’t that she felt trapped there, as such, but she also knew if she tried to go anywhere, she would be sent with at least two of her siblings, and it irritated her somewhat that even now they were holding her as a bit of a hostage.

“I am going to the village,” Caroline said, now trying to speak only modern English, where possible. “Alone.”

“No you are not,” Klaus spluttered.

“Yes, I am,” Caroline said defiantly. “I am an adult woman, Niklaus, and you will not tell me what I can do. Goodbye.”

With that, Caroline turned on the heel of her very new boot, and flashed away.

Once in the centre of town, Caroline actually didn’t know what to do with herself.

But was spared the trouble of coming up with an idea when someone walked into her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said, apologetically. “I am very clumsy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said. “It’s – it’s you.”

“Do I know you?” Caroline asked, peering at the tall, dark haired man with interest.

“I’m Stefan Salvatore, maybe you’ve heard…”

“Oh… yes… I’m Caroline,” Caroline replied, awkwardly. “I’m really sorry my family were so awful to you… they can get pretty protective.”

“I’m sorry I told my brother to chop you up into little pieces…”

“Your brother?” Caroline said, incredulously. “Yes, you should be sorry, that hurt.”

Caroline let out a tinkling laugh, unable to hold much of a grudge against the man before her. Sure, Niklaus hated him, but didn’t mean she had to. In fact, it would probably irk Niklaus greatly if she were to befriend this young vampire.

And boy Caroline would love to do anything to irritate Klaus.

“Do you want to get a drink? I’ve been in that box for almost 900 years, I have five friends in this time, and they put me there. I could use… someone new.”

Stefan frowned, sensing it was a bad idea.

“It’s not a trap, I promise.”

Caroline gave him her most sunny smile – it was a smile that got her in and out of trouble a lot of the years – and Stefan relented. 

Stefan led Caroline to the Mystic Bar and Grill and Caroline took a seat awkwardly, while Stefan ordered for the two of them.

“So, who are you to the Mikaelsons?” Stefan asked.

“Niklaus and I married when I was quite young, so he’s my husband, and the rest are my siblings.”

“By marriage?”

“Yes, but I grew up in the hut next to theirs. They’re more my family than my blood family ever was.”

The two of them chatted away, Caroline learned a lot about Stefan’s life as a vampire, as well as his life in Mystic Falls over the last two years. She couldn’t always understand the words he used, but he was kind enough to stop and explain whenever such a word came up.

Caroline couldn’t help but feel at ease talking to him, despite his obvious unstable side, she could sense there was a lot of goodness in his heart – even if it had been poisoned somewhat by time and sadness.

It was a familiar sense – it was what happened to her family.

“May I ask a personal question?” Stefan asked, to which Caroline nodded. “Why did Klaus dagger you?”

“It was not just Niklaus,” Caroline said, sadly. “We were all living together, and they all liked being vampires, the murder and the power. I didn’t want that. So I told them I wanted to travel alone for a while. None of them wanted me to go.”

“I see,” Stefan said, shrewdly. “That’s why they were so willing to band together to save you, when they should have been angry with each other.”

“I suppose, plus I am the best sibling.”

“I can see that,” Stefan replied, slipping the lightest of flirts into his voice. “I guess you’re lucky I came into your life. I freed you.”

Caroline stiffened.

It was a thought she’d had a few times since waking, though it was one she always pushed to explore later. But having it so casually raised with her, she realised she couldn’t deny the question anymore.

“I’ve got to go.”

/

Klaus was sitting agitated in his study.

It had been six whole weeks since his family had been reunited, and there were times when it felt like nothing had changed. But there were also times when he could set fire to west wing of the house and still would receive no attention from any of them.

He supposed that was fine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar dynamic.

But, he reasoned, he was the only one of the six of them who remained awake the entire time. He guessed he wished they needed him more, the way he needed them.

Suddenly the door to his office flung open, and there stood Caroline.

Her eyes were full of tears, her cheeks flushed from what he could only assume was the run home from town.

“Would you have woken me if Stefan hadn’t kept me?” Caroline asked, in a strangled voice, reverting back to their old tongue for her own ease.

“What?” he asked, defensively.

“Stefan just said to me that maybe it was lucky he took me, because he freed me from your betrayal.”

“Stefan just said to you, Caroline? Your friends with Stefan now?”

“Don’t avoid my question, Niklaus,” she said, dangerously. “Would you have woken me now? Would you have woken any of us now?”

“Mikael is dead, Caroline, it was my plan to insight a family reunion.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question!” she sobbed. “If Stefan hadn’t woken me to torture you, would you have woken me now? You reasoning has always been Mikael would have killed me if I was alone. So, now he’s dead, would you have woken me?”

Klaus mouth stayed tightly shut, unable, or at least unwilling, to answer her.

“How could you?” she asked, her voice so broken.

“Caroline, you have to understand, you –”

“Understand what, Niklaus? That I wanted a life beyond this family, beyond you?”

“I was –”

“I don’t care, what you were,” Caroline cried, tears freely pouring down her face. “You robbed me of eight hundred years of life that you got to live. You got to live beyond me! Why could you never offer me the same kindness?”

“What if I lost you?”

“What if you lost me?” she shrieked, the words tearing her throat. “Your sense of love and loyalty to me is completely insane if you think keeping me dead in a box wasn’t losing me, Klaus.”

“Caroline, please, I –”

“Don’t you dare say you love me, Klaus,” Caroline spat, the tears on her flaming cheeks mixing with the sweat and mucus dripping down her face, forming a grotesque imprint of the Caroline he’d loved and lost so long ago. “I could have been there in 1492 when you tried to break the hybrid curse the first time, I could have been there when you adopted your son in New Orleans, I could have raised him with you! I could have been there to cheer you on when you finally succeeded in breaking the curse this year! I could have been around for all of it!”

“But you were leaving!” Klaus said, finally beginning to match her level of rage. “How can you not see how ridiculous your notions of ‘being there’ are, when you were – by your own admission – trying to not be there!”

“You’re unbelievable, Klaus,” Caroline scoffed. “That you still fail to see my side of this at all, proof that I was right back then.”

“I can’t stand you when you’re like this, Caroline,” Klaus muttered. “Just get out of my sight.”

“No,” Caroline said, giving Klaus a look of pure petulance. “What did you do with my stuff?”

“What?”

“Way back then, what did you do with my stuff? My books, my dresses, my everything!”

“I packed them in a box and it travelled with us.”

“Good, where is it?” Caroline asked, petulantly. “I want it.”

“Cellar.”

Klaus grunted the last two syllables as he brushed past Caroline, and stalked away from her.

She rolled her eyes, but made her way to the cellar instead of engaging him further.

/

Elena Gilbert was sitting on the couch in her home shaking intermittently.

The past year had taken its toll on the young woman, and the events of only the last couple of days had served to shake her more deeply than she thought possible.

She refused to see Stefan, or Damon – both complicit in disregarding her life, and the life of her family for their own revenge fantasies. She ordered both Jeremy and Bonnie be in her vicinity at all times, though she rarely spoke to them. Matt and Ric were allowed a little more freedom, but had to call or text her every couple of hours.

Despite the fact she was completely healed, thanks to vampire blood, Elena could still vividly feel the vicious and cold pain Rebekah inflicted upon her. And every time she looked in the mirror, and saw her bare head, her eyes would fill with tears, for her scalp was just a visual representation of all she lost since turning sixteen.

She flinched as there was a sudden knock at the door.

She knew Bonnie and Jeremy were upstairs, and Matt and Ric were at school, and surely Stefan and Damon knew better than to come grovelling for her forgiveness so soon?

Trying to pull herself together, she bravely stood up, wrapped her cardigan more firmly around her, and answered the door.

“Hi,” the blonde on the other side of the door said softly. “I’m Caroline. Are you Elena?”

Elena nodded jerkily, but didn’t say anything.

It was at this point, Bonnie came down the stairs, and, recognising Caroline, pulled Elena from the door.

“Elena, don’t, she’s one of them.”

Caroline smiled sadly – that was a line she heard frequently her entire life. She was one of them; a Mikaelson. Once she vowed her life and heart to Niklaus, she doomed herself to an eternity of spite and shame.

“They don’t know I’m here,” Caroline said gently. “I don’t even want to be invited in.”

“What do you want?” Bonnie said, tersely.

“To apologise; my family betrayed me, and I guess they thought their saving me this time would make up for that. I’m sorry for everything they’ve undoubtedly done to you. My husband, especially.”

“Which one’s your husband?” Jeremy asked, from his position behind the two girls.

“I’m sure you can guess,” Caroline huffed. “Niklaus is a brutish man, and I am loathed to admit regret for anything, but now…”

She left her sentence hanging in the air, leaving all four of them to contemplate the terrible twists and turns their lives had taken.

“It is strange,” Caroline said. “I feel as though, perhaps in another life, another universe, I could be a close friend to you three. But I don’t believe that’s for this life.”

For the first time in a few days, Elena gave a small, guarded smile to the blonde at her doorstep, and it was enough for Caroline. It was all the solace she would get from this particular encounter.

“I brought you this, I used a photocopier, whatever that is, to make you a copy from one of my old books.”

Caroline placed an envelope at the foot of the door, and took a step back, gesturing for them to take it.

“What is it?”

“It’s a spell I weaved myself, back when I was a girl, I was a witch, you know,” Caroline said, wanly. “It should spark hair growth. Over night, you should be able to regrow all the hair my brat of a sister stole from you, in any style you want. There’s also instructions on how to spell your hair to different colours, lengths etcetera.”

Elena’s eyes widened, and tears filled them.

“I know it’s not much salvation from the destruction that tends to follow my family, but hopefully it’s something. The world needs pure souls like the three of yours, and I want you to still believe there are good people out there.”

Without another word, Caroline turned and left.

She heard a quiet ‘thank you’ when she was half way across the street, and she smiled sadly again, unsure of where to go now.

/

It was a few days later, as that sun began to peak its beams through the trees, and Klaus was quietly reading when he heard a heartbroken wail, that was unmistakeably his little sister.

“Rebekah!” he called, jumping from his armchair and dashing toward her.

She was crumpled in a heap on the marbled floors of their kitchen.

“What’s the matter,” Klaus said, alarmed, as the rest of their brothers joined them.

“It’s Caroline,” she cried, barely audible through the choking sobs ripping through her. “She’s left us."

It was then Klaus noticed the the thick paper clutched in Rebekah’s hand, and the matching envelopes addressed neatly to each other them on the kitchen bench.

“I don’t know if she’ll want to come back this time,” Elijah said.

“Of course she will,” Finn encouraged.

“She can’t keep away from us forever, she won’t be able to help herself,” Kol joked, weakly.

Klaus reached for his own letter, dread coursing through his veins.

And, as he read both letters she left for him, he couldn’t help but think maybe he would never see her face again. 

/

 Hope you enjoyed! I also hope there’s not too many mistakes, I couldn’t bring myself to read this monster again!! Much love xx

[new-caba]

Response to a Noelle Stevenson interview

This is a publication from my other blog which Tumblr trolled and shut down my reach.

--

I want to respond to some stuff Noelle Stevenson said in this interview.

“Their arc is the arc of the show. It always has been,” showrunner Noelle Stevenson told The Times in a recent phone call. “Every season is about this relationship, even when they’re the farthest apart.”

True, but your narrative is confusing about that. I am sick of people saying "It’s getting annoying the amount they’re focusing on the two” and they say this because, while there are times when the narrative wants to discuss Adora’s past, her relationship with the Horde people and the connection she has with Catra, there are way more times when it pretends she’s just a generic mystical warrior who is cool on her own and beat the bad guys just for fun (usually putting Catra’s life at risk in a non reciprocate way) and ignores that Adora even has a personality other then “to be so much better then what she has done in the past”, and “so much stronger then everyone that she can deny herself as much as she wants” as if those were a positive things. Almost focusing on how strong she is because she can resist abuse, implying that those who aren’t that strong are “bad victims”. That’s what she means by “I will not be controlled” in 4th season.

Adora is just using She-ra as a way

to run away from her internalized homophobia, that’s what being She-ra means to her and that’s the brilliant main narrative. Hear me up: she wants Catra because the old friend reminds her of a safe place to explore and have fun, in a way that this perfect being everyone wants her to become doesn’t allow, and her becoming everyone’s savior is just fueling this problem. However, they imply her heroism is a good thing, so how can it be that her opposite desire, the desire to live a happy life with her love, is the main narrative? Being She-ra (a miraculous problem solver) is her main narrative. If she used She-ra as a way to protect herself, her friends and the love of her life I would find her really cool, but she just used it to run away from herself.

To recapitulate, in the first season, the story is indeed about Catra and Adora because it is about Catra trying to survive with dignity without the help of Adora, and it is about Adora trying to understand how to get the help of the princesses to fight the war. But in the end Adora realized that the fact she has overlooked Catra was a problem because now Catra came back as a leader and she doesn’t know how to go about that.

This would be fine if the second season was directed to the two of them at least trying to get along or to talk about each other, in order to continuous with this theme of them growing up to their own life paths without letting to have a connection, healthy or not. But instead it becomes about Adora mindlessly fighting some battles and Catra alone doing the job of trying to achieve something to herself and to the Horde people in general. When Shadow Weaver runs away from her, she starts to loose hope she will ever have support to continuous. She feels like no one will ever help or love her, and if they do, she better just protect them while she dies, because she does not deserve it. And this is all being reinforced by the way Adora is treating her (being a brutal bully).

In the 3rd season, when Shadow Weaver returns to Adora, the protagonist realizes she had again been neglecting her own past traumas and wants to interact with the witch, to be close to her again. It would be a good continuation of Adora’s story with the Horde people, and, by consequence, with Catra, if she used the witch solely to achieve what she needed, but no. That’s eeeeevil, right? She did someting muuuuuch better: guaranteed the witch was around and always interacting with her, putting bad ideas in her head and aligning herself with Glimmer to be able to torture Catra again. She even says she wanted to believe there was something good in Shadow Weaver still, and to me this feels like she’s just trauma bonding. You cannot expect this person to be nice, it’s not reasonable.

It’s funny that Catra is unforgivable to the point of having to let her go and “live with her ‘choices’”, but Shadow Weaver can do what she wants without consequences, and no one discussed that in the fandom, as far as I saw.

On the other hand, Catra has wanted to interact with the witch solely because she needed guidance, since she had to manage a war being only a teenager, but she kept her arrested. Which, given how harmful SW is, is quite a reasonable boundary until you find a better way to handle her with safery. Still, all the blame of the world falls on her for having been mean to her former mother. Much better to always let her loose, like Adora did, right? I see.

You can say what you want, but Adora could have fought Glimmer to demand the which was actually better locked up, they are in a war, for god’s sake! It is so important for social movements to actually know how to war in order to win those waring them first, yet this so-called “social justice” cartoon is preaching as a value the worse war strategy possible. You do not let the former leader of your enemy loose in a room of your castel if you’re at war, no amount of “non-violent” value is gonna make this make sense. Because it’s the most illogical thing ever. 

Adora is proving not to be trustable to Catra by guaranteeing the witch could pottentially go back to her, which she has proved many times to be very found of. Catra is seeing that Adora will always contribute to her suffering and never defend her. That’s what Catra realizes in the Crimson Waste after Adora says to her she’s living with Shadow Weaver. The feeling is like “it’s me or Adora, I need to act before Adora can control my life and I have no choice but to live in hiding”. She’s not wrong. 

And what good did it do that Adora went to the Crimson Waste, really? Like, what was the point of the mission? Why was that narrative arc important to her? She was just driven by Shadow Weaver’s misguidance. She didn’t learned shit there. She should have learned stuff by talking to Razz and to the princesses about their history, you know. Prioritizing herself in the relationship she had with her friends, so that they helped her figure stuff out. But the narrative wants to mean it’s evil to put yourself first. It’s not, suggesting that is just denial. Why is Catra being the one accused of isolating herself, when she has great reasons not to trust anybody, while Adora is isolating herself in the same way, even though she has trustable friends? Who’s the wrong one there?

And don’t come with the talk Catra could have just lived in the Crimson Waste, she’s not safe there, it’s not a safe place for a teenager who doesn’t know shit about the world to handle without help (or two, if you count Scorpia). It’s absolutelly cruel to suggest that.

It wasn’t just that Adora left. That was actually never really the issue at all,” explained Stevenson. “It’s that for Catra, Adora was her number one priority. Their relationship was her number one priority. And for Adora, it wasn’t.”

It was. Adora run away from the important stuff in battles to focus on Catra. Even when Catra is not in battle, Adora’s thinking she will be there and that she will be terrible. Adora is always thinking about Catra in a bad light, as if Catra was only thinking of destroying her. Catra had other issues going on. She’s first trying to prevent her former mother from killing her, then she’s trying to prevent Hordak from killing her, then she’s trying to take away the territories from the princesses -  rightfully, by the way, because the princesses abuse their power and use it to control Etheria at any cost, as seen by Glimmer in the 4th season, and as seen by the fact the princesses expect Adora to solve all their issues with security herself, as if Adora had to control everything for them with her divine powers. They continuous with this attitude until the 5th season, when Adora loses her sword and finally the princesses have to learn to get along and solve their own issues without her. Despite all the talk about magic friendship, the princesses of power only help each other in a meaningful way against the war in this last season, when Adora finally stops begging to serve them (even though what they were doing to her with these expecctations is still their fault, not hers). And Catra was there, trying to stop them and their toxidity all along. She was the one trying to do something useful. This idea Catra is just obcessed with Adora… like yeah, she is always very concerned with Adora, since the princess can’t stop stalking her, personally attacking and stigmatizing her. This is self defense. And it’s pure projection to suggest Catra is the obcessed one. Noelle you’re… lying to yourself.

Anyways, at the end, all Adora’s narrative arc always ends up in dead end. The sacred connections to the princesses was unproductive, her travel to the Crimson Waste was unproductive, literally everything she finds out about her story is an accident. And they’re blaming Catra for wanting to do something. It’s like they’re so afraid of telling this story that they are villanizing who wants it to happen.

[continuing the last comment] This backstory has made Catra one of the show’s most relatable characters, even though she’s a villain who keeps making bad decisions.

Catra is not relatable because she thinks she should be the priority of people’s life, she’s relatable because, unlike the protagonist, she has actual life problems and challenges like it was never shown on TV before. She is always being tortured, abused and, mainly, oppressed, she has no power what so ever and have to survive this reality. She loses faith in humanity and can get really dark because of it - as people do -, she makes messes because of it and have a hard time healing, even though she gets there, which feels empowering. This is just an ordinary narrative arc, nothing like “only making bad decisions”. You know what is not empowering? The comparations with her and bad people, like she was mean because of these difficulties. Her mistakes are not worse than the ones Adora makes out of trauma. Why is one the villain and the other, the good guy? I have said this in a thousen different times now, but this is discrimination against oppressed people, to call her a bad guy and elevate her to the same level of villains who have magic, body weapons and science on their side.

Also, she did not made bad choices. Not wanting to go into the unknown without protection like her attitude was in the frist season, taking seriously when powerful people threatened to kill her if she does not follow their orders like she did in the second season and not wanting to be in a land full of dangers having to intimidate everyone like she did in the third season, are not life mistakes. They are very healthy and helpful choices. You wasn’t able to sell the idea she was wrong to do so, because it’s a lie. It just made it seem unfair that she’s not the good girl.

Catra’s journey has involved realizing that “you are not always going to be the number one priority in the lives of the people that you love,” Stevenson said.

Catra was absolutelly right to demand stuff from Adora, who basically was running away from her own story. This is the biggest act of love you can do for someone, to stand up for them no matter what, even when they are confused. She did not have to learn how to give space to Adora, Catra knows how to take care of her own business and leave other alone, as she has done the whole series. More projection.

She’s also had to learn “that it is OK to ask for the things that you want, because people don’t always know. Her big, heroic moment in the final season is actually just being able to ask Adora to stay.”

Her big heroic act was to be resilient enough to continuous to do what she has always done, which is to ask Adora to be by her side. Even after Adora neglected her to her abusers to the point she was “raped by the pope” and she stoped believing she was worth of love. She didn’t had to learn that, she just had to not forget she knew that.

Adora’s journey has been about learning that being a hero is more complicated than the willingness to sacrifice yourself for the cause or for your friends.

“Putting the greater good at the top of your list is a good thing to do, but you still do have that responsibility to the individuals in your life who depend on you,” Stevenson said. “Your friends don’t want you to die and sacrifice yourself because they love you. They want you in their lives.”

Are you now suggesting her friends deppended on her? Because they didn’t. Why do you say that? I don’t understand that if it is about Glimmer and Bow, but if that is about Catra, yeah, Adora could have used her magic powers to fight against Catra’s abusers, so you can say Catra was dependent on her to do it and she didn’t. But Catra never directelly imposed Adora to go and do that because Adora could be feeling unprepared. That’s not something you impose on others if you’re a decent person. That’s why Catra tryed to handle what she could on her own in the secound season, before she could find some help. She didn’t want to demand help when people were not openly abled to help.

And this is related to the fact you believe there’s such a thing as heros, and is defending the hero idea. Also that you think there is such a thing as the greater good. Haven’t you learned anything watching Harry Potter? Seriouslly? Oh, wait. You’re probably calling J.K. R*wling a T*RF as you did with me, never mind (censored because my reach was canceled after I said JK’s name on the other account). No wonder you’re such a bully if you keep defending this idea. I won’t even respond, I will just quote Kiara again, ‘cause that’s too basic:

“we’re not here to save the world. we are here to empower ourselves and each other to embrace all of our divine missions here. and that collective effort changes our course rather than a single person taking the lead. […]

i’m not focused on being a hero because i’m self-aware. i’m aware of what my strengths and weaknesses are and radically accept them. that is how i can help and it’s the only way anyone else is going to be able to help. if people don’t start getting real with themselves about what they’re meant to do and not what they wanna impress people with, it’s going to be much harder. i’m focused on what i can do. i have surrendered. it’s not inaction. it’s strategy”.

Well, it was much harder to Adora, wan’t it? It could have been so much simpler if she just cared about herself. She only faced herself in the last secound, with Catra imploring her, as the sweet person she is, to please do stuff just so that people could live on earth to help each other and for nothing else. Funny that Adora is always trying to impress people being the cool She-ra and at the same time Noelle is like “She-ra is this uncomfortable cloth she had to wear”. Either it’s ok to live to impress other people, or it’s uncomfortable. This is cognitive dissonance. As Magdalen Berns used to say, if you have to think about what you’re doing, if you have to make an conscious effort, it’s not natural. Why is this so hard for people to understand?

During this final season, “They become good influences on each other,” Stevenson added. “Adora learns to be a little more selfish, while Catra learns to be good and to be selfless in the way that Adora is.”

Selflessness is such a sin. The fact Catra got selfless is more trauma inducing. Here’s more Kiara:

“virgo-pisces can represent the delusion that the idea of selflessness can become because to be selfless is to deny desire of the self in this physically embodied existence and to deny your humanity, to deny that you are an individual and that you are a Self. it is a complete act of dissociation from reality, where being of Self also means survival because it is also called SELF-preservation. to engage with delusional selflessness it is to project unrealistic expectations onto our world that we will never need something in return. that we can continuously give and give and give while also never asking for help to restore, rest, and be taken care of. it’s just not realistic to pretend we’re okay with being hollow. our resentment and bitterness prove that’s not true.“

Anyway, I hope both Catra and Adora can just become selfish.

I wish I didn’t love Catra that much not to get pissed with those interviews, but I will stop looking to articles like that now not to get the urge to respond. I have been away since Noelle pretty much confirmed my indignation trhough her actions against me on twitter, but this response was almost ready to publish in my drafts for a long time and I just wanted to go and put this out in the world once and for all, so here it is.

i have this dream that we would be able to take what we see in the media and make it our own, not to be so relyant on the vision of the creators and the industries. I don’t think it’s fine for modern society to keep mindlessly watching stuff without discussing it afterwards so that they can be a part of the construction of the narratives. But you see, it is really concerning not only that the creator of the one entirely lesbian show is playing so much mental gymnastics about her own creation to the point of contradicting herself, but that the whole crew, full of remarkfull writers and storytellers, are also doing it. No one said “oh, wait, this is confusing. We’re telling two opposite stories, one about two girls growing up and learning how to love each other, and the other about dissociating from yourself and mindlessly beating people without any connection or growth”. Like, if not even in the crew it is safe to discuss a narrative, the fandom will never be. That’s what i’m learning, even if I still like to see Catra and Catradora Fanart.

[calenheniel]

Queen of the Ashes | extended author’s notes

In which I delve into the themes, symbolism, and creation of my latest fic.

Foreword

I’ve been writing in the Hans/Elsa fandom since 2014 now, and yet, to my surprise, had never delved into the world of the “Hans with fire powers” genre. I’d enjoyed the art and fics for it, but didn’t have a good idea of what to write on the topic myself, though the idea percolated in my mind that I should, at some point, contribute to it. After bandying ideas back and forth with a friend off-Tumblr, the first line of the story came to me: “They met as children.”

Fics about Hans and Elsa meeting pre-Frozen are also common in the fandom, and to my mind, the notion that they would have met before completely changed how they would interact during the coronation sequence (and “every moment after,” as Hans might say himself). Add to that the notion that Hans, like Elsa, had secret powers – in addition to all their other shared experiences, which the fans elucidate through fics and art and posts – and it creates a new and tantalizing dynamic to tease out over the course of many chapters. It also begged the question, to me at least: even if they had met when they were kids, and realized some of their likenesses, could they still have successfully overcome their individual traumas as adults?

I had promised, for some time, that I would explain in full the background behind this fic, including symbols and themes which readers may have missed along the way. In particular, I am aware that the Epilogue may have unsettled or taken unaware some of them who had enjoyed the quasi-happy ending of the preceding chapter—a phenomenon which I was well aware might happen from the very beginning. It is therefore my hope that the following notes elucidate some of the mystery of the story, and why it ended the way it did. (And I’m tagging @yumi-michiyo​, who helped me to summarize my thoughts more cleanly in discussing them with her.)

Theme: abuse (and its consequences)

There are many allusions in Queen of the Ashes to various types of abuse experienced by its main characters: parental and familial; physical and verbal; intentional and unintentional; organizational and relational. While some are described in an overt manner with little ambiguity, others are less obvious, but no less malicious in their impacts on the character. 

When reading into the various traumas of the characters, it is easier to ascribe value judgments to the actions of certain characters over others. It would be difficult for anyone to argue that Hans’s father and brothers, for example, weren’t terribly abusive towards Hans; likewise, it would be hard to ignore that the insistence of Elsa’s parents for her to “conceal, don’t feel” had tangibly negative psychological consequences on their daughter, regardless of their good intentions. The consequences of such abuse on both characters are obvious: towards themselves and their powers, they are taught to feel fear, anxiety, discomfort, denial, and confusion; towards others, they can be perceived as childlike and their decisions arbitrary and cruel, cynical of the outside world, unable to trust, and blaming all else but themselves for their troubles.

On the flip side, the abuse which Hans then inflicts on Elsa – pursuing her in spite of her telling him to leave (on multiple occasions), leveraging family connections (Anna) to pressure her into speaking and meeting with him, taking advantage of her self-doubt and fear to convince her to trust only him, lying to her about his true nature and his past misdeeds, pressuring her to continue hiding her powers up until and even after they are married – is in many ways subtler, disguised as him trying to help her accept her powers and herself (even as he tells her that no one else will accept or understand her, except him). They are also characteristic of the deceptions deployed by the character in canon to achieve his objectives, even if they were, originally, used on Anna (whom he also lies to in this story, for other reasons).

It is understandably harder to view Hans’s actions in the same light as those of his parents, or her parents, as we are led to believe that he truly does care about Elsa in this story, and feels a special kinship with her on account of their shared miseries and strengths. I am not here to say definitively, one way or the other, if he cares about her or doesn’t; that is always up to the readers to decide. The point is rather to illuminate how difficult it can be to tell deceptions from truth when the deceptions are told from a sympathetic perspective, and when the deceptions appear to be borne from circumstances so harrowing and tragic that the readers might be inclined to forgive them their trespasses against other characters.

When viewed in the context of their upbringings, we can more clearly see the full cycle of abuse: that which was perpetrated against our protagonists, and that which they, in turn, can and do perpetrate against each other. In attempting to break this cycle, and start a new life with Elsa, Hans ends up playing into similar patterns of manipulation and coercion with her, her family, and her people which he had internalized over many years of suffering the same. Whether he does this on purpose or inadvertently is up for interpretation, but still beside the point, which is: in trying to be the opposite of his family, and then in killing that family, he begins to resembles them.

Theme: perspective

As in several other of my fics released over the last few years, this story experiments with narrative and perspective, describing to the audience the events of the story through only one character per chapter. For the majority of the story, we are shown events from Elsa’s perspective (Chapters 2-8 and 10), and given special insight into her years of isolation and accompanying mental distress. No other character is allotted as much time and room to think and develop and reflect on everything that is happening to them, as Elsa is; and yet, at the same time, we are rarely allowed all the way in to see and know her thoughts in each moment beyond the whispers of “conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show” that echo through her mind, in empty rooms, and from her own lips.

We are mostly shown her reactions to things that are happening to or around her, and given vague descriptions otherwise about “off-screen” moments like meetings or public hearings where her attention is not fully present. Upon a second reading, it might become more difficult to be certain about what exactly is going through her mind, especially towards the end in Chapter 10 and the Epilogue (in which we are removed from her perspective entirely, and see her only as Hans does).

In Chapters 1, 9, and the Epilogue, by contrast, we are shown events from Hans’s perspective: as a child, then chronologically from childhood through adulthood, and finally just after he is crowned King of Arendelle and married to Elsa. We first meet Elsa and Anna through his eyes and experience his pain, though the source of it is not confirmed until later in the story. When we finally learn about his powers through the confrontation with Elsa in Chapter 8, we are briefly allowed back into his perspective in Chapter 9 in order to experience his ordeals and better understand his motivations.

With so little “screen time,” however, it is difficult to know or understand Hans in the same way we think we do Elsa. We trust him when Elsa does (or perhaps before, if we are sympathetic to the child Hans from Chapter 1), and believe that his version of events as recounted in Chapter 9 must be true and accurate due to their disturbing nature. Even when we are presented with evidence which suggests that his actions aren’t as pure and good as they seem (see notes on the symbolism of roses, apples, and gloves below), we are unlikely to question the validity of his memories and intentions towards Elsa, since, as the victim of severe abuse, we cannot fathom that he would inflict the same on someone he appears and claims to deeply cares for.

It is easy to forget, in these switching perspectives, the complexity and development of the characters, and how certain aspects from earlier on in the story – such as Elsa’s initial suspicion of Hans and his motives – might return even after the “happy ending” of Chapter 10. A common critique of romantic comedies (and Disney movies) is that they end just as the relationship is about to begin—the relationship being the more difficult part of the story to explain and understand, with less romance and more compromise and bargaining.

The Epilogue therefore serves as an antidote to this trope in asking: what would actually happen after Hans and Elsa came together? How would he publicly court her, given his sour reputation? How would he help her to control her powers, while still keeping them (and his own) a secret, and convincing her to do the same? If they decided to get married, how could they continue to keep it a secret? Could Elsa ever truly forgive and forget Hans’s past misdeeds, and cover up his crimes in perpetuity? 

And, perhaps, the kicker: Did Hans ever really care for, or love, Elsa during the course of the story—or does he just see her as an extension of himself and his own trauma? Did Elsa love him in return? Can there be love without trust?

It is impossible to answer these questions wholly when the chapter is presented only from Hans’s perspective, as it is; and even if it were from Elsa’s, we would still be missing half the story. In place of seeing both points of view at once, we are left to put the pieces together ourselves of what happened in the year between Chapter 10 and the Epilogue, relying on our knowledge of both characters’ actions from earlier chapters in the story to make sense of their final decisions and feelings.

Symbolism: roses

Roses play an important symbolic role in the story, and feature both in Chapter 6, during Hans and Elsa’s conversation in the rose garden of the castle in Arendelle, as well as in the Epilogue, wherein Hans offers Elsa a rose made of flames during his proposal (which she then turns into ice).

Hans, comparing Elsa to a rose in Chapter 6, frames it thusly:

“You know, Elsa,” he began, “roses are actually rather difficult to grow. The conditions have to be just right, with plenty of sunshine, well-drained soil, and in areas free from pests, since they’re so susceptible to disease. Without regular attention, it’s unlikely they’d survive.” He eyed her pointedly as he added: “So it’s a wonder that these are still here, and blooming as beautifully as they are.”

The unspoken implication of this analogy is that Elsa, as a delicate and fragile flower, must be taken care of and tended to. Thus, the paternalistic warning underlying his speech is that she will decay without proper handling, and that he is the one who can handle her. Even when Elsa rejects this perspective and the analogy itself (“I’m not a rose, Hans. I don’t require sunlight, or pruning, or ‘regular attention’ to endure”), a feminist reading of this scene might say that he still forces her to take on the feminine duty of caring for him when he plucks the rose from the bush in order to make his point, reinforcing the dominance of the male gaze and viewpoint during this scene.

Likewise, his traditional proposal to her as described in the Epilogue, even with the untraditional aspect of his created rose of flame, could be interpreted as him delineating their roles in their future married life together—with Elsa’s ice solidifying this arrangement. In both chapters, Hans is literally leading Elsa “down the primrose path”: showing her what a world wherein she is free from fear and doubt would look like, but only if she puts her trust in him, and discards the memories of and attachment to her deceased parents. (The idiom itself refers to leading a life of leisure and sin in place of morality and good judgment, and so you can see its application here. You are all also more than entitled to feel that I, as the author, also led you down the “primrose path” in the sudden atmospheric shift between Chapter 10 and the Epilogue.)

Symbolism: apple  

Similar to the rose, the apple featured in Chapter 7 is an explicit nod not only to the temptation of Eve in the Garden of Eden – and the accompanying downfall of mankind – but also to many other stories of temptation leading to damnation, such as Snow White. 

As Hans points out in his speech to Elsa:

“Fine things, apples, when they’re ripe like this. Beautiful, even—your mouth waters just looking at it, thinking about how sweet or tart it might be. But then […] You see something like this, and even though you want to take a bite out of it, you think, ‘well, I’d better just check.’ So you take out a knife and cut it open,” he said, and dug both of his thumbs into the side where the hole was. “And what do you find? […] Nothing but a rotten, brown core,” he continued, a sigh escaping his lips as he gazed into the fruit’s ruined interior.

[…]

“I know that the memories of your parents are precious to you,” he murmured, his grasp soft, “and I don’t mean to deny you them. I only ask you to question what happened—to ask yourself what good it did you to be kept inside all these years, separated from your sister. And all because of what? You hurt her once, when you didn’t know any better,” he said, “and they made you pay for it, for every moment after. But you shouldn’t have to anymore.”

While he is making the analogy in order to imply that Elsa’s parents, though well-intentioned, still raised her within an immoral and abusive environment, the apple also serves to illustrate the darker side of Hans’s own behavior and speech. On the surface, he is trying to help Elsa remove the “rose-colored lenses” through which she still views her parents, and to see her powers as a gift and not a curse; but as he grabs her hand and pressures her to listen to him (“The juice from the putrid core of the apple oozed out from his fingers onto the back of her hand, and she grimaced, the sensation causing her skin to go cold”), the graphic description of the decay, corruption, and stench of the apple implies that he, too, may be acting from less than noble motives.

Symbolism: gloves

Perhaps the most obvious symbolism in any Frozen fanfic dealing extensively with Elsa’s and Hans’s emotional trauma relates to their gloves. What does it mean when the characters are wearing them, or when they’re not wearing them?

These questions have been analyzed pretty thoroughly in various Tumblr posts over the years, and I don’t want to belabor the point by adding on to them. In no uncertain terms, the wearing of the gloves relates to deception, manipulation, control, and fear, while not wearing them relates to the release of inhibitions, and being one’s true self. The former is evident in Elsa’s coronation sequence in the first film (as well as in this story), as well as during the original Hans villain reveal scene. The latter is evident in the most famous sequence and song from the film, “Let It Go.”

In this story, however, the roles are somewhat reversed: where in the original film Hans wore his gloves up until he was revealed to be the “big baddie,” he doesn’t wear them at all in this fic except for in flashbacks (Chapter 1 and Chapter 9, respectively), and in the Epilogue. Meanwhile, Elsa is gloved for almost the entirety of the story, with only short instances of being ungloved (in Chapters 1, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10). Until the Epilogue, almost all of these instances occur due to her interactions with Hans; whether from pressure or curiosity or affection, she reveals her hands to him and him only, deepening their connection and her confidence in him with each new physical encounter.

Unlike the film, moreover, this story does not tie honesty to being ungloved: Hans goes the majority of the fic without them, and is lying to Elsa about his powers up until Chapter 9. Instead, he uses the seemingly improper visage of his bare hands to his advantage in gaining Elsa’s trust, showing her that he trusts her by touching her skin directly—and that she can (and should) trust him.

When Hans’s deception is revealed in Chapter 9, rather than the gloves being an obvious marker of his villainy that the reader can point to, their absence reinforces his power over Elsa. It is a literal “sleight of hand” he performs by demonstrating the extent to which he has gained control over his own powers in comparison to her, as she still struggles to maintain the veneer of “normalcy” in her day to day life. He convinces Elsa, and therefore many readers who see themselves in her character, that he was dishonest for “good” reasons; his hands, bare as before, do not hide anything from her (and us, by extension).

This is turned on its head in the Epilogue, wherein we learn, thanks to Elsa’s observation, that he is wearing his gloves again:

“You’re wearing gloves,” she observes, ignoring his question.

He stifles a swallow. “It’s the least I could do, on such an auspicious day,” he replies, struggling to keep his smile in place. “It would look odd to have bare hands for our wedding, after all.”

Suspicion flashes across her gaze at the answer, but she says nothing, looking back at the dance floor. She watches her sister with something between longing and regret, though the emotions are so fleeting that the king cannot be sure if he saw them at all.

The implication is that by putting his gloves back on, Hans has committed himself – and Elsa, who shares similar abilities – to a future of continued deception and manipulation, never revealing the truth about himself and his powers to the public. In Hans’s weak reply and Elsa’s sharp and suspicious look at him (not to mention her own, bare hands) afterwards, we can surmise that she has already realized this. In her quoting back to him the lines he once told her (““I do. But love… isn’t always good”) and rejecting his overtures of affection, we can see that she will not accept such a fate for herself.

The notion that she rejects his beliefs and worldview might have profound, if unseen, consequences for the story. Will she follow the path of her character in canon, freezing over Arendelle and retreating to her palace of ice and snow? Will she reveal her powers - and his - to the public? Will she tell Anna what really happened to them as children? The possibilities are endless, but the core message of the story is the same: the truth will always come out.

Concluding thoughts

It’s undeniable that I tend to write tragic or “angsty” stories compared to the rest of the fandom (and in particular the Hans/Elsa fandom), though I’d like to think my stories provide a space for those who are interested in exploring that darker side of the story. The purpose of the ending is not to upend what came before for the sake of “staying the course” in this genre, or playing to my strengths as a writer within it. Rather, it is to make the reader think more carefully about the nature of Hans and Elsa’s interactions, the nature of their relationship, and the nature of abuse itself, including all the insidious and subtle forms it might take. 

This is not to say that the ending implies anything one way or the other, in terms of their feelings for one another. One reader might see Hans as a true “knight in shining armor” saving Elsa from the gaslighting of her past, while another might see him as gaslighting Elsa. Another might still see how they lie to each other about their beliefs and pasts, and their feelings around both, and think the relationship is doomed to fail as a result. And that is the true purpose of this story: it is meant to leave us wondering how love can survive without truth, and if the characters would ever be able to overcome their past trauma individually, much less together.

[hutchhitched]

The Vintage Joshifer Series: End of Love—Chapter 21 (Final Chapter)

End of Love by hutchhitched

Finally, y’all! A million years ago during Catching Fire promo, I stumbled into a friendship with some amazing Joshifer fans. Despite not being a full-blown shipper, I was absolutely thrilled to see an interest in writing historical AU fanfiction. For a long while, I knew what I wanted to write, but I couldn’t get the words to come. By the time I started posting, it seemed most of the Joshifer fandom had (understandably) moved on, but I still wanted to write this story and complete the commitment. After numerous delays and more stutters and stops than I can count, my contribution to @thevintagejoshiferseries​ is complete.

Big thanks to @burlesonspride​ for the banner and encouragement to join in on the fun. I know we don’t talk much anymore and you’ve moved on to other ventures, but I still adore you. There are a lot of others who deserve thanks, too, but you know who you are.

I chose the 1960s because the decade of rebellion speaks to me in so many ways. With recent events, I hope it does with some of you, too. There are so many people still struggling for political, economic, and human rights. The fight’s not over. Keep going.

Historical events in this chapter include the following:

The concert at Altamont in December 1969 became the symbol of excess and the end of a peaceful counterculture. If Woodstock was the ideal, Altamont demonstrated excess and danger and a drug culture that was out of control. There’s a lot of information on the event itself, but here are some great articles from Rolling Stone, the History Channel, Forbes, and The New Yorker.

Berkeley, California, December 1969

 “Oh my GAWWWWWWWWWD!!!!!” Brenda squealed as Jen emerged from the airport and streaked toward her college roommate. “It’s been so long. You look so good!”

 “You look so good, too!” Jen cried as she enveloped the other girl. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you so much, honey.”

 “You don’t miss me. I’m nobody. Unlike my former roommate who’s the toast of the networks. I’m so proud of you, Jennifer!”

 “Well, my professional life is great anyway,” Jen offered wryly and swallowed against the anger and pain that always lingered just below the surface since Josh’s disappearance over a year ago. “I’m happy about that.”

 “You really haven’t heard from him at all? No phone call? Not even another letter explaining anything?”

 Jen chuckled as she imagined Josh sitting down to write to her. The last time she’d seen him, he hadn’t been very interested in the written word. She couldn’t imagine that had changed much in the past twelve months, no matter how badly she wanted to hold onto the image of her former whatever-he’d-been as the guy she’d met in college and fallen in love with despite her best intentions. And now look where that had gotten her.

 “Nothing. Besides, I don’t live in Chicago anymore, remember? New York City’s a better fit, and my coverage of Stonewall made my career. He knows how to find me if he wants to hear from me again.”

 “But Jen—”

 “I looked for him, you know,” she admitted. “When I was in the Village and the protestors were marching in the streets. I saw Andre, Josh’s college roommate. He’s been part of the gay underground for years, and I thought maybe he might be there. Still an activist. Still fighting for change. To make the world better, but he wasn’t. None of his friends have heard from him since Nixon was elected, and I’m damn sure not going to call his family. They don’t know me, and I’m not going to beg him to be part of my life anymore. I’ve sacrificed enough for him.”

 Jen’s pronouncement hung in the air, and Brenda had enough grace to pretend she believed her. The silence stretched between the two women until Brenda shook her head and suggested they make their way to the cab line and head to their hotel. After all, they had a limited amount of time to get reacquainted before the alumni event they were supposed to attend.

 Jen blinked away tears as they drove through town and by campus. Memories assailed her at every corner, and she suddenly felt very old for someone who’d only graduated from college a few years prior. She wanted to kick herself for running out on Josh the night they’d first slept together, and she regretted not working through their problems when they lived together in Chicago. It had just been so easy to run or to seduce him instead. Sex had always been good between the two of them, and she liked it. She’d felt empowered when he lost himself in her or when he’d turned to her body for comfort. The problem was that he’d stopped looking to her and started hiding, too. When they’d both ignored their problems, they’d lost each other.

 A year later hadn’t dulled the ache of his absence. She’d been grieving since the election, but Josh had been for far longer. If she was fortunate—no, lucky—enough to find him again, she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice or however many times it was now. It would have to be pure luck to run into him again after all the ways fate had brought them together in the past, and she’d never been one to find four-leaf clovers. Unfortunately, last November seemed to be the end of their love story, no matter how much she wanted it to be another way.

 “You know there’s a big Stones concert tomorrow not far from here. Some of my friends are going.” Jen jumped when Brenda’s words broke through her reverie.

 “Really? I love them.”

 “I know,” her old roommate said with a grin. “Want to go?”

 “Absolutely! Wait, is this at Altamont? Woodstock West?”

 “I knew you’d know what I was talking about. Sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re in the news business and have your ear to the ground more than us mere mortals.”

 “Please,” Jen scoffed, but the wheels in her brain started turning. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick phone call.”

 With that she made a beeline for the payphones on the far side of the hotel lobby. If she could pull a few strings, she could tie this to her job and make her friend really happy. What use was working herself to death and making her way up the ladder, slapping away the roving hands, working ten times harder than her male colleagues only to get a third as far—what use was any of that if she couldn’t sometimes cash in her success for press passes at a major counterculture event? None, that’s what, so she was damn well going to call her affiliate and let them know where she was.

 After she completed her call, she made her way back to Brenda and they retired to their room to get ready for the alumni event. Jen made it through with as much grace and class as she could while attempting to stymie the rush of emotions that hit her every time she turned her head. She drank a little too much and laughed louder than she would have if she’d been acting completely like herself, but she survived. More than anything, she held onto the promise of seeing her favorite band in concert the next day. If she managed to score the press passes, even better.

 “We need to make a stop on the way to the speedway. Can you be ready to go in 30?” Jen asked when they woke the next morning.

 “What’s going on?”

 “I need to stop by the local NBC affiliate to pick up some papers. My boss is being a real stickler about my time off while I’m out here. Something about an assignment. I want to make sure we have plenty of time to get to Altamont before the big names go onstage.”

 “Why?”

 “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but… Because I got us press passes. We’ll be able to get anywhere with them—including backstage.”

 Brenda squealed and hugged her friend, which made Jen smile. It felt good that her hard work could help make someone else feel so good.

 “Altamont, here we come!”

 ****

 “This is a gas!” Brenda yelled into Jen’s ear. “These passes are the best.”

 Smiling, Jennifer nodded and then pointed to the crowd indicating she was headed into the fray for a little bit. Brenda indicated her approval, and Jen headed off by herself for a few minutes. There were so many people at the racetrack. The music was loud, and she needed a break. Besides, she wanted to check out the crowd in case she could use the information she gathered for a news story later. After all, she was a journalist, a damn good one, at that, and her career came first. Now that her love life was dead, something had to.

 Experiencing Altamont made her regret not taking her boss up on his suggestion she cover Woodstock. She’d considered it for a second, but she’d been exhausted from coverage of the Stonewall riots and then traveled home for a family function. At the time, she hadn’t wanted to take off on another assignment when there was plenty of news to cover in the city itself. If she had, though, she’d be able to compare the two music festivals.

 The crowd at Altamont seemed perfectly content, albeit jittery. The lower the sun dropped in the sky, the more unrest she felt. She stepped around a shirtless, bearded man on the edge of the mosh pit in front of the stage and froze. There, not even ten feet from her, was Josh Hutcherson, alive and in the flesh. The man who’d haunted her dreams and had made her weep far too often over the past year was there, cheering and whooping as the Rolling Stones shifted into another song.

 People surged around her. Frozen in place, she couldn’t drop her gaze from his face. Josh’s face. She’d imagined reuniting with him a million times, but now that the opportunity existed, she had no idea what to do or how to act or what to say. Stunned and breathless, she tried to smile, but she was positive her face held more of a grimace than anything else. And then he turned slightly, and she could tell the exact moment when he saw her. His handsome face went slack in shock, and he took a tentative, hobbled step toward her.

 It took a minute for her to realize something had shifted. Someone pushed while another shoved back, and the concertgoers pressed closer together. Squeezed between two large men, she fought for space and scrambled frantically to keep Josh in her sights.

 All hell erupted around her as men in black leather infiltrated the crowd. She saw a person fall and then another. Panicked fans stepped over the bodies on the ground, and she had to fight to stay upright at people swarmed around her. She struggled against the tightening noose, but she was losing ground.

 “Jennifer!”

 Suddenly, he was in front of her, pulling and tugging her free from the throng. He grabbed her hand and bulled his way toward the perimeter where it seemed there wasn’t quite so much danger.

 “What are you doing here?” he shouted over the noise. “I thought you were in New York?”

 She gaped at him. “How did you know that? Why are you here? Where have you been? And why the fuck did you leave me in Chicago, you shitless bastard?”

 Josh opened and closed his mouth a few times before his face broke into a wide grin. “God, I missed you,” he laughed and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could shake him off, he leaned forward and kissed her.

 Stunned, she stiffened under the onslaught, but she gradually melted into him. She’d forgotten how good he was at this, how his lips and tongue and teeth combined to weaken her knees and shatter her resolve. Then, she was kissing him back, passionate and frantic as he held her to him. She was seconds from tearing his shirt over his head when someone slammed into them. Hard.

 He broke away and glanced around them to assess the situation. “We need to get out of here,” he shouted and grabbed her hand to pull her along.

 “Wait! Brenda’s here. She’s backstage. I can’t leave her.”

 “Jen! I want you safe.”

 She shook her head and twisted to look at the stage. Everything was in chaos, but she glimpsed her roommate briefly. She waved and ducked away under the arm of one of the workers who’d been flocking around them when they’d first arrived. If the wide grin on her face was any indication, Brenda would be absolutely fine.

 “Let’s go!” she yelled but allowed him to pull her behind him through the rioting crowd and into a clear area near the parking lot.

 “Are you okay?” he asked, his hands running over her shoulders and arms and then back up to her face. “Are you hurt?”

 “I’m fine. I’m okay. Josh…”

 His lips were on hers again, warm and comforting and more than a little urgent. She wanted to lose herself in him, find comfort in a way she hadn’t been able to for so long. More than anything, she craved his skin against hers. More than she wanted to know why he’d gone or where he’d been or what his future plans were. She just needed him in a way she couldn’t explain. She only knew that she felt like she’d come home when she was with him. After all this time, he was still the person that made her feel more herself than anyone else.

 It felt like seconds and decades at the same time, but finally, their frantic make out session ended and they could look at each other more fully. She had a million questions, but the most important was the one she managed to blurt as he studied her with his hazel gaze.

 “Do you love me?”

 He raised his hand to her left cheek and traced her cheekbone with his thumb. His eyes flickered over her, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Of course, I love you,” he laughed. “I always have. I’ve been an idiot—worse, I’ve been a complete ass—but I’ve been in love with you for a decade.”

 “I live in New York. I’m not moving.”

 “I’ve already got my plane ticket back there. I was just staying with Connor through the holidays.”

 “I don’t trust you.”

 “I don’t blame you. I haven’t been very trustworthy, and I’m sorry.”

 She glared at him, but she couldn’t find her anger. His presence was a balm she hadn’t even known she’d needed. When he’d left, she’d thought it was the end of their love, but maybe tonight was really the beginning. If the last decade had taught her nothing else, everything was a gamble. Maybe she had another big one left in her.

 “Hey, Hutch.”

 “Yeah?” It felt like the world around them was holding its breath.

 “Take me home.”

 When he reached for her hand, she took it.

 ****

 The drive to his brother’s apartment seemed to take forever and not nearly long enough. She wasn’t nervous, exactly, but it had been over a year since he’d left. How would it feel to be with him again after all this time and so much pain between them?

 “Connor’s out with friends tonight. Spending the night with his boyfriend,” Josh announced as they pulled into a parking spot.

 “Okay,” she replied and sucked in a breath to hold. At least they wouldn’t have an audience for their reunion.

 “We don’t have to do anything,” he said, and she raised her eyes to his. Vulnerability poured from him, and she suddenly wanted to soothe him. She had the ability to provide him comfort, and that’s what she wanted more than anything else in that moment.

 “I want to do everything,” she answered firmly.

 He led her up the stairs to his brother’s apartment and unlocked the door. When they were inside, he tossed his keys on the table and turned to her. She went to him, and he pulled her close. His arms wrapped around her back to nestle her against his chest. Slowly, he lifted her chin and pressed his lips against hers.

 It was a chaste kiss, but it lit a fire inside her. She deepened the kiss by tilting her head and opening her mouth. Her tongue begged for attention, and he slid his against hers. His muffled grunt was matched by her lusty moan, and the thin veil of control they clung to snapped.

 “Jennifer,” he sighed. Their hands grappled with their clothing as it fell piece by piece. Frantic, she hopped onto the kitchen table and tucked him between her legs. He rubbed her quickly, just a tiny bit of prep, and then he was inside her, thrusting with his head thrown back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as he rammed into her. The table creaked under them, and she gripped him inside her tighter and tighter as he plunged erratically into her depths.

 “Fuck!” he shouted to the ceiling when his body tensed. He sank into her, and she felt a wet heat pulsing inside her when he came.

 She cradled him to her, grateful for his warmth in the chilling apartment, until he came back to himself. His mouth sought hers in a lazy journey across her cheek until they were kissing and kissing and then kissing more and more and more. She couldn’t get enough of him. He surrounded her, made her feel like she’d found everything she needed, and grounded her to the present.

 “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

 She whimpered, both at his words, and him pulling out of her, but that turned to a forceful howl when he sank to his knees in front of her. She spread her legs further, and he leaned forward. Falling back on the table, she pressed her eyes closed and allowed herself to float. His tongue and fingers and lips and facial hair all worked to drive her over the edge, and she gripped the edge of the table as an orgasm rushed through her. Panting, she begged him to keep going.

 He took his time, nuzzling against her until she writhed under him. He prodded her legs into different positions, interspersed sucking on her clit with shoving his fingers inside her until she was wailing. She couldn’t control the sounds that poured from her any more than she could stop from climaxing multiple times as he took her apart.

 She lost track of time, of her name, of her roles and responsibilities. Nothing mattered but him on her, connected and intertwined in a way she always wanted them to be, that they’d never quite managed when they held back from each other. For the first time in ages, she felt he was completely open to her, and she responded in kind. Any inhibitions she still held fell away, and she ground against his face harder and harder.

 “Josh, I need more,” she whined, desperate for him to be inside her again.

 He stumbled to his feet and scooped her from the table. Half-carrying, half-supporting her, he walked them across the room to the ratty couch in the living room. Woozily, she glanced at the rumpled blankets and sheets where he’d obviously been sleeping and sank onto his lap when he sat.

 “You deserve so much better than a shitty couch in a rundown apartment. I’m sorry—”

 “Stop apologizing,” she slurred and kissed him. “I forgive you. I love you, too. Now, fuck me.”

 Josh buried his face in her neck and guided her thighs to the outside of his. She sank onto him and rocked her hips, meeting his stroke with hers. She rode him, then, bouncing and moaning his name, clutching his hair and raking her nails down his back as they raced to the finish. They reached it together, clinging to each other as they panted each other’s names. Her back bowed, and she dove over the edge, reaching for him, clinging to the man she’d met so many years ago, who’d helped her discover who she really was, what she believed in, and how she could fight for those principles. She didn’t want anyone else to take his place, and this time she’d battle for him as long as she needed to keep him by her side.

 When they finished, they lay together, hearts beating rapidly, and caressed every inch of bare skin they could reach. They made promises and plans, both grandiose and mundane, but most importantly, they made a pledge.

 Despite everything, there wouldn’t be the end of love. Instead, they were at the beginning.