#i've been struggling with chapter nine for a very long time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

polarisjisung · 8 months ago

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LOVE ON THE COURT | 12 BIRTHDAY PARTY

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, friendship jealousy?, a very brief mention of some guy hitting on y/n + spiking of drinks but I didn't want to go into too much detail so it's not a very in depth description or anything

NOTES | I so badly wanted to write this chapter better but it just hasn't been working for me, I think I've reached my wits end with this chapter and this is the best I could do which honestly I'm really disappointed with it, but I want to get back to regular posting and I don't think I can rewrite this chapter again after going in circles with it for the past week so I'm sorry if it's not v good

Jaemin's happy, spending his birthday night with the people he cares for most, having a good time. It helps him forget, the struggles the worries, the events of the past week. He forgets it all. And even if just for a moment, jaemin feels free, like nothing could stop him.

It's not a feeling that lasts long, and as the sound of sweet laughter echoes in his ears, despite the blaring music, jaemin reminds himself that he doesn't have the right to feel so happy after what he'd done. Or at least he thinks so.

Y/n's laugh is quiet but he hears every part of it intricately, his head shooting over to the left where she's a few drinks deep into a conversation with Mark and Haechan. His heart thumps in his chest. Jaemin follows Chenle and Renjun's eager eyes, watching the way they navigate through the crowd to join the conversation. His palms are sweaty, clammy even, and the bile almost rises to his throat, resting in that uncomfortable position that made him shift his weight from one foot to the other. The events of the other day seem to play in his head, on loop, on repeat, at every sight of the girl. The bitter feeling causes his hands to shake, almost eating hik alive. How could he have done that?

A lump in his throat, jaemin can't help but remember the days, those days where he knew everything there was to know about the girl across the room. The days where y/n was deeply integrated into the mix of the 6 other rowdy, loud and messy but sweet boys he called his best friends. Those days that were long gone. Relationships that could never be restored taken with it. Those days when nights like these, like today, would be nothing but a distant nightmare.

Y/n was dressed to the nines in a pretty red dress that she'd never have worn before, with features so different, a sign of the time that had passed, Jaemin swore he barely knew the girl he saw in front of him.

But for a flash of a second Jaemin does see someone he recognises. He sees y/n. His y/n.

The y/n with slightly shorter hair, softer features, happier eyes and a brighter smile. The carefree y/n, the y/n who fit to a T the memories he stored in his mind. The y/n who would never have done what she had to him.

He had given his best shot to forgetting those exact memories but they were vivid recollections that would never escape his mind no matter how hard he tried. Today for the first time in 3 years Jaemin had let himself look back fondly on what they had once been. He wondered where it all went wrong, what he had done wrong back then for it to end like this.

Jaemin sighs, pulling his hand back from the open bar and taking just a few steps back to observe. Haechan seems to have cracked a joke. From afar it seems like one of those things that gets funnier as each person adds, and soon he notices the four of his friends doubled over in laughter, grasping each other for support and laughing to their hearts content. Something about that site in front of him makes it feel as though time hadn't changed a thing, their bond still as unbreakable and robust as before, a bond that ran beyond verbal description and light sentiment, it was a deep rooted bonding of their souls.

He felt jealous.

Jaemin, for as long as he let his eyes play the scene in front of him, felt sickeningly jealous.

He wanted nothing more than to have his friendship with her to be untouched, the bond he had with his best friend, that had been stronger than any other, he wanted it back as though nothing had hapenned and nothing had gone wrong in the first place.

His stomach churns with nausea, and jaemin subconsciously steps further away from the makeshift bar, watching Y/n closely.

Her mannerisms had changed, no longer that same rough reflection of his own habits, but a distinct and sharp contrast. There's no scrunch of her nose or reeling back when she tips back a shot, no hesitance to get herself another drink without tugging someone along with her

No sign of the girl he once knew inside out, other than a few vaguely familiar facial features.

Jaemin's too occupied in his thoughts to notice how his friends now begin to pile into the other room, setting up for beer pong, hell jaemin barely notices when Jeno invites him over to play, with a pat on his back and a smile on his face.

His eyes instead find themselves glued to the captain across the room. Where she was stood at least, because once Jaemin shakes himself from his thoughts and his blank stare grows fuller, he realises that y/n isn't anywhere to be seen.

He knows for a fact that she wasn't in the other room, crowding around the table and cheering for whoever she decided she'd be supporting. Instead, his eyes shoot over to the kitchen, and his legs follow. A concerned Isa scurrying out of the kitchen, only giving him reason to trust his gut.

The sound of slurred conversation fills his ears and suddenly he finds himself walking a little quicker. Intuition was always his strong suit and the churning in the pit of his stomach made him gulp.

"I'm really not interested" he hears y/n's voice, slightly muffled as he enters the kitchen, stood in the doorway to see some guy, he's not really sure who, stood towering in front of her

"oh come on, I make the best drinks" he says, holding out a red solo cup in front of her.

Y/n rolls her eyes. Nobody presses for a drink that much unless they're up to something. She knows that despite being a few too many shots into the night. And she certainly knows better than to accept a drink off a stranger.

In moments like this, she assumes violence isn't the answer — she knew she lacked the coordination to even walk in a straight line right now. So she gladly accepts the drink, taking it in her hands and swirling it about in the cup. Although the urge to splash it in his face was strong, Y/n knew getting out of the situation wasn't that simple. But she didn't exactly have many ideas now either.

"So what's in this mystery drink of yours?" she asks with a sickeningly sweet tone, trying to buy herself time. There was no way she was drinking this, especially not considering this guy had been hitting on her for the past 5 minutes

Her eyes dart across the room, searching for any sign of a way out of the situation, her eyes finally landing on the doorway. Y/n had never felt so relieved at the sight of Jaemin, certainly not in recent times.

It took less than a second before he was already taking a stride towards her

"Hey y/n" he smiles, walking over and placing his arm over her shoulder. Jaemin feels her body tense under his hold, his faux smile almost dropping at the realisation.

But he has no time to take offence, grabbing the cup from her hands "I could use a drink." he says despite the fact that right now, even the mention of alcohol had his stomach churning. Paired with the blaring music and the crowd of people, the nausea was overpowering.

But the second his eyes land on her, he feels a sense of ease, just like the old times. And for the second time that night jaemin can't help but think where it had all gone wrong, where they had gone wrong.

He wants to stand and ponder whether this grudge he'd been holding against her for years was really worth the loss of the most treasured relationship he knew. But the amused stare of the creep opposite him gives jaemin no room to think, in fact he barely has the room to breathe with how close he is.

That sick smirk on his face, jaemin wants nothing more than to knock his jaw in and his teeth out. If it weren't for y/n beside him, jaemin probably would.

But the brunette only gets a quick glare from jaemin before he guides Y/n out of the kitchen with him. His arm only falling back down to his side when they were in the hallway.

"Thanks" she mutters out, and it's clear to jaemin that she's far from sober, even clearer when she takes a shaky step forwards.

"Woah" it's instinctive the way he reaches for her arm, steadying her in his hold. "Let me help you"

But she pulls her arm back.

"You really don't need to be nice to me because of what hapenned the other day" she sighs, leaning against the wall behind her. "I'm over it, honestly" she says, her hands held up either side of her head. But her eyes remain latched ontot he floor.

"That's not why I'm‐" his words are cut off again, this time by his own thoughts. His muscles tensed and jaemin had no idea why, but her words didn't seem to sit right with him.

"Look I appreciate it" she pauses, "but it feels awkward, you're not supposed to help me, it's just not what you do" she says, shrugging

The feeling inside him grows as each word passes her lips. His throat tightening.

Jaemin feels a sudden sense of urgency overcome him, the need to defend himself profound.

"Come on peach, I wouldn't let some creep get away with that no matter what, especially not with you"

His voice comes as a soft whisper, rushed, but gentle.

Jaemin for the first time had spoken before he could think, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, barely able to process his own words. He wants to say more, but he can't, like his tongue is tied as he waits for a response.

He searches for any sign of belief in her face, any sign of trust, anything he could work with, he'd take.

"I'm sorry" he musters up the courage to say, though he's not sure what it is he apologises for. All he hopes is that he'll see something, anything.

But the blank expression that laid across her features was far from what he was looking for.

Her lips lay flat in a straight line, her eyes latched onto the floor, expression stoic. He wanted her to scream, shout, kick, do anything. Jaemin as ever before, just wanted to get a reaction out of the girl, the slip of the once endearing nickname from his lips no mistake.

"Say something" he bends down ever so slightly, now eye level with her slouched figure "please" his speech is breathy, desperate almost. He doesn't care.

For the first time, jaemin knows what he wants. And though he's too scared to say it, jaemin finally admits to himself just how much y/n means to him. It seems a lot easier to do when she's by his side, like all things had when she was around. And the question arises once again, where had everything gone wrong? and perhaps more importantly, why had he let go of everything so easily?

The thoughts cloud his mind again, his eyes trained on the girl opposite him, her lips between her teeth.

Y/n felt silly, that stupid nickname causing tears to well up in her eyes, that nickname that she had never known to mean so much. Peach. She used to love when he called her that, now she wasn't so sure.

She holds his eyes in her own for a moment, not breaking the silence until a shaky breath falls from her lips.

"I should go" and her eyes return to the floor "Happy birthday jaemin."

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#jaemin #nct jaemin #nct jaemin smau #nct smau #nct dream smau #jaemin social media au #nct social au #nct social media au #nct dream social au #nct dream social media au

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brainworms-all-night-long · 8 months ago

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Hello hi, I'm Brainworms and this be an all inclusive intro to the hellspace that's my brain and this blog!! Do not attempt to find any parallels in my blorbos to my behavior and desires I promise it says nothing about the very core of me as a living being haha

I also have a Bsky and PillowFort in case this place kicks the bucket fr

And if you feeling like you have a lot of money and don't know where to put it, you can Commission me (OPEN) or Buy Me a Coffe!! I am currently saving up for a new phone and headphones

While you're still here, please donate to these fundraisers for Sahar Shehab, Maryam, Wasim, Heba Al-Dahdouh, Mahmoud and Ali as I'm unable to do so myself

Every silly appearing above lives full time in my brain and refuses to pay the mortgage, in fact, is very adamant they will never do so. Henceforth, I yap about them sometimes!! Some more than others *coughNinecough* but they are always present

>Now to the tags I actively use!!

sonic prime / sonic the hedgehog / miles nine prower – The most of thoughts at the actual documented begining of life for this blog, and I like Nine!! A lot!! A character made specifically for me I think....

murder drones / arcane / nimona 2023 / dreamtale (UTMV) – Other stuff besides Sonic that I draw and yap about, although this is still mainly a Sonic blog

me does arts / littol doodl / actually finished doodl – My art tags!! I've been drawing the same character for over two years now help :D Have no idea why I decided to split them into three separate categories but I believe the names are pretty self explanatory

me when I finish writing – I do a drable or two sometimes as well just, don't expect for me to actually finish anything I start writing even though I say I will, that tag name is a lie

the silly text box – answered asks whenever I remember to use the tag lmao

silly brainworms – my yappings, Nine character analyses and headcanons!!

There's no talk tag, if you see my random unrelated thoughts, it was destined and once in a lifetime event

>I also have a few AUs but mostly of the "What if crossover" variety

Prime bros – a more or less non committed collaborative effort of random.headcanons and drables between me and @/000marie198 and anyone else who has thoughts and wants to join in on the fun on the idea of having the Shatterverse foxes (Nine, Sails, Mangey and Tails) living together in green hill and causing mayhem because the way the show left them was bullshit and unsatisfying!!

The same but different is my own personal version of the prime bros universe that is now actually being incredibly slowly written and the first three chapters are on my Ao3!!

Project 09 – a Tails gets adopted by Eggman AU except it's Nine getting "adopted" by the Chaos Council and to no one's surprise, it fucks him and everyone else up in a special way

Over the hills – is a Dreamtale and Sonic crossover brought on by The Nine-tailed travel guide through the multiverse event conceived by @/Donelywell and mashed with my long time held dreamswap au idea of Dream taking Night and running away from the village after taking some drastic measures that is also posted on Ao3!! (more stuff will come to it in time. I hope)

running from a Nightmare – another Dreamtale au, this time about corrupted Nightmare being set loose on the Sonic world by none other than Eggman and the suffering that comes with it (also fighting tooth and tail to get it written)

the n 'n n's (read as m&m's) – unserious crossover where I put Nine Night and Nimona together and have them be silly (perhaps Nuzi will tag along some day too...)

And because I keep having Dreamtale & Sonic thoughts, I do lump them all together under the dreamtale and sonic tomfoolery tag!!

prime arcane – as seen above, I like arcane!! Jinx and Nine are eerily similar in their sibling and identity struggles, I put them together, boom an Au :D other characters are there too but I need to get around actually designing them....

>This will get updated in case I get possessed by something new or remember a tag I forgor

——

Hey you scrolled this far might as well put some more random trivia abt me here :D

>paleontology and zoology nerd, but only as an avid listener to four hour YouTube documentaries, I don't actually know shit- (Miniminuteman, Casual Geo and Lydnsey Nikole hyper carry this special interest shoutout to them)

>Obviously a followup to previous point needed, favorite dinosaur is the Archeopterix and the animal ever is the Blunt Headed Tree Snake (which is also my Sonicsona by the name of Shoelace)

>I have a pet snake, her name is Ebi and is a black head spider python!!

> Graduating a four years study of Mechanical engineering in a weeks time I also have no fucking clue what I'm doing ill be happy if this is finally over

>Favorite color is pink!! (In case you couldn't tell by my art and this whole post lmao) I went through a goddamn hero's journey to learn to love it alright you can pry the seven plain hot pink shirts and hoodies I own from my cold dead hands

>I'm Slovak!! Niečo niečo hokej, Tatry, a zlatý Bažant

>Aro, Ace and Agender (that's where the AAA battery comes in lmao)

>undiagnosed but there's.... something...

> I could recite the story of the ugly duckling backwards as a kid (unrelated to previous two points)

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heyidkyay · 1 year ago

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part One

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Warnings: This is gonna deal with a lot of controversial shit surrounding Matty and his past I'm ngl, so if you're not into that then I'd suggest not reading this! But if you are, then hi!! I hope you enjoy?

Authors Note: I'm back...:)) Back with a series too, or it will be if this first part goes down well! Lmao so pls don't hate it! Butttt in all honestly, I do have to quickly thank @procrastinatinglikeapro for all the kind words she gave me on the snippets I annoyed her with recently and for forcing me to actually believe in this fic because I very much was on the fence about posting again. So thank youuuu, it means a whole lot<3 Also, the skeleton of this was taken from a very old fic of mine which I started during the height of covid that I've just been thinking about trying to better for a long while now, so... enjoy?

And I guess let me know if this is something anyone would want to read more of? Yeeeeah, I really don't know what else to write here now, it's been a while, so! Hi, help, bye:)

Masterlist

Chapter 1: He's got the whole world falling at his feet

“Yeah, yeah! I’m really into their sound at the minute! Honestly fell in love with their recent performance at the VMA’s– didn’t overdo it and kept it true to themselves. Definitely did a great job there, so well done with that one if you’re listening in, lads!”

I was grinning from ear to ear as I spoke into the microphone before me, which was to be expected whenever I was at work. Strange, yeah I know, but only to any typical person with the usual nine to five, because I truly did love my job. It was tough work, strenuous at times, contrary to what most might believe, but it was pretty much everything I’d ever dreamt of.

See, I’d grown up on the outskirts of this tiny village in the Isles, where everybody knew everything about everybody. Secrets were never well kept– you could just ask our local priest about that one, who often used to regale most of the confessions he’d heard in the only pub around for miles whenever he’d been pissed beyond being able to sit on his barstool.

It was also incredibly tight-knit, as in, all the kids who went to school together, then grew up and married one another, settling down and taking over the jobs that their parents or grandparents would soon retire from. Hardly anyone moved away, if ever.

In reality though, it was actually just a place I’d always felt like a stranger in. Where I’d struggled to fit in and make friends, to form bonds outside of the one I shared with my mum.

Which sounds sad speaking about it, but still true, I’d had a real tough go of it back in school. ‘Mouse’ was what they’d seemingly dubbed me back then, a nickname which had travelled throughout the masses all too quickly seeing as there had only been about sixteen kids in both my year and the one above.

The name had mostly started due to me just having been an extremely timid child, hiding behind my mum’s flowing skirts whenever we went into town and much preferring that of my own company whenever other kids were mulling about. But that fact hadn’t gotten any easier for me once I’d been forced out of school for a few years after an accident that had flipped my entire life on its head. Resulting in me being further isolated from the rest of the world and my fuck-face of a father running for the hills.

Still. Shit happened, I supposed, and I’d been forced to deal with it and grow up.

Too quickly, in truth.

So whilst everyone else had been out living, I’d been holed up in our little dove cottage miles away from them all, with only books and music to keep me company. Music which had been a true constant in my life and just about the only thing that had gotten me by.

As well as my mum, who’d forever be my rock. And back when we’d both been growing up– because that was how it’d always felt with us– she had constantly had the tele on full blast throughout the day, cycling through the freeview channels that played the recent top 50 and old school classics.

It was one of my favourite things to look back on now. Sometimes if she was ever in the mood, or when the power would finally flicker and go out completely when a storm hit, she’d spin this old phonograph her own father had gifted her in the days before she’d left home. The two of us would dance around the living room whilst she would clean on Saturday mornings and then hum to it as we settled in for a long downpour, her working on her trusty crossword whilst I would read or draw. The brass pavilion would croon out old French records she had bought long before she’d moved to the UK, and before she’d ever even met my father.

And I would just lose myself in it all.

It wasn’t just the basic premise of music that I had enjoyed though, it was everything else that also came along with it. The opinions, the reviews, the personal stories and thoughts, the way it could make a person think and feel.

So, for years I would just sit down at the kitchen table and write for hours on end about the sound, the rhythms I’d felt and heard, the lyrics that had had me bellowing out or playing on a never-ending loop in my head. And then, as a teen, Twitter had come along and had been just another way for me to express it all.

It was actually Twitter that had eventually led to all of this.

The radio.

At first, I’d never paid much mind to all of the people who had started to discover the small page I’d created, the few users that had enjoyed reading my inner thoughts. But then one day I had and it had been an insane concept to comprehend, the very idea that people cared enough to stop and read my thoughts, but it was also what had, ultimately, pushed me into continuing with it.

From there, opinions on genres of music and their style throughout different decades quickly turned into thoughts on up and coming artists, then actors and other A-list celebrities. So I had ended up spending an awful lot of time online, simply just tweeting about it all, on subjects followers had wanted to hear about and answering questions on whether I loved a certain album or this new EP.

The account had grown rapidly shortly after and by the time I’d had the balls to tell my mum I had wanted to leave home and make a start for myself, in London of all places, the account I used had gained well over fifteen thousand followers.

I went to uni down there and met people. People who didn’t shy away from me or shine a light on my odd quirks. I met my best mate there, too. And Finn was unlike any other. The platonic love of my life, or so I’d since dubbed. He was eccentric, witty, and didn’t care about what anyone else thought of him. Forced me to feel that way too, slowly but surely. And it had only taken a few weeks before he'd grown rather suspicious of my constant need to always have my phone near.

He had, pretty early on, decided that I must’ve had some secret boyfriend back at home that I’d yet to tell him about and had annoyed me about it at every twist and turn, basically backed me into a metaphorical corner. So to say I’d relented fairly quickly wouldn’t be a lie, and I’d told him all about the account soon enough.

Finn had actually been the one to suggest that I take it further, somewhere bigger, make it into something that people could actually tune into and not just read about. I had taken the consideration on board way back then, but had only acted on it when shit had hit the fan a year or so later. But we'll soon get into that.

So with it all, I ended up making an actual radio show out of my thoughtless Twitter account, allowing people to listen in and actually get to know the person behind the name.

That was essentially how ‘Mouse On A Mic' had come to life.

Yup, I’d kept the fucking nickname! I couldn’t not in truth, it was familiar, reminded me of the person I once was, and who I currently am now. But the only difference was, I’d given it a new story. I’d reclaimed it.

The show's audience grew fairly quickly during that first year, I was new on the scene and seemingly refreshing. I had a no-bullshit kind of attitude that my listeners apparently admired. I called celebs out on their crap and went to new extremes to conjure up inventive ways to get followers involved.

Ultimately ended up doing things that other radio presenters were too afraid to do at the time. Which was fair enough, in hindsight, they had actual endorsers and brands that were backing them up and funding their streams. Me, on the other hand, I had no-one to answer to for my mistakes or any of the backlash the show received. It was just me, sat alone in my bedroom, speaking into a mic.

Only, a few years had since passed and now it was me sitting in a quaint little studio in East London, not too far from my flat and walking distance from any and every coffee chain that the city had to offer.

Anyway, I forced myself to adjust my headset over my right ear as I wheeled closer to the table, aware of the one too many monitors and power cables I had to constantly avoid, and glanced upwards, locking eyes with my co-producer, Adi.

The girl shot me a hurried gesture, a circular wave of her hand that had me chuckling to myself even as I silently waved her off, knowing I’d already gotten off track one too many times this recording.

"Alright! It seems as though we've got to move on with the next segment of the show now! Unfortunately, Ads here has informed me that I can't just sit around all day and talk about Inhaler forever. A right shame that, don’t you think?”

I huffed theatrically whilst Adi merely shook her head in return, dark ringlets brushing the length of her shoulders as she mouthed the word 'prick' through the thick sheet of plexiglass that separated us.

Ignoring that loving endearment in favour of continuing on with the commentary, I hoped I hadn’t steered too far off track seeing as there was still an awful lot scheduled for today's show that I had yet to go over.

“So moving on!” I sighed on into the mic and rubbed my palms together, eyes flitting over the few sheets of paper I had perched before me, “It seems like quite a few of you lot, over on Twitter especially, have made it loudly known that you want to hear my thoughts on Manchester’s very own Matthew Healy. God, is there yet another scandal under his belt I don’t yet know about? Makes me wonder where he’s finding the time.”

I shook my head briefly at the bulleted point I’d been given and rolled forward in my seat. The wheels squeaked beneath my weight and I made a silent prayer that the mics hadn’t picked up the sound.

What a fucking topic, I thought quietly to myself and sent Adi a semi-amused smile before peering down at the recent headline she had handed over to me earlier that morning.

It was the same old thing. Expected really at this point.

“Healy’s at it again! Whatever will we do?” I gasped, playing up the whole thing as I stared down at a few images of the haughty singer that were plastered across the printout I held in front of me.

There were four of them, a quick succession of pictures that had all seemingly come from a clip at a recent concert. Bit blurry but the title gave away to what was happening.

A laugh bubbled up out of my throat as soon as I read the headline. “Oh God! It appears Matty Healy is– wait for it!– back at it again, only this time it seems he’s gone and traded off a drumstick for…” I paused to drum quite the anticipating beat against the tabletop of my desk and, as stoic as I possibly could, I then added, “A joint!”

A smug grin slid its way up onto my lips when I heard Adi’s faint cackle echo from just outside the booth.

“Honestly, I swear that everything this man does makes the rags! Reckon I actually saw an article about how he took his tea this one time. And like, do me a favour, yeah?” I rolled my eyes but relented, “A man of the people though, in’t he? He’s got to be! I mean, just look at this headline. Fucking who the hell writes this shit?”

Tossers, I supposed. But even so.

“It’s madness.” I muttered, gently clucking my tongue as I shook my head at the so-called news that had made the front page. “But anyway, I’m guessing that most people claim him to be the epitome of a real time rockstar, and sure, he might just be. 'Sex, drugs, rock & roll', all that shit. But really, how much longer is it going to last until everything goes tits up, hey?

“I mean, Healy can pretty much do whatever he wants at this point in his career, he’s got half the world either falling at his feet or complaining about him- has done since he was what, a kid? Following his parents amongst the shadows of their fame before he eventually stepped out and made an actual name for himself. Saying that, it still is insane to see how much he’s changed!”

And it was. Healy and his band had risen to fame so evidently, their music everywhere, they sold out shows constantly and had the privilege to fly across the globe doing whatever they pleased. But they’d also practically grown up in the limelight, Matty especially. So it was hard not to notice the resounding changes that shone through in all the news and gossip that ran riot.

“But, if I am being truthful.” I went on to say, thumb toying with the page’s sharp edge, “And when am I not? I thought that most of the shit that went around about him at first was a load of crap– publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that. Or maybe just him being an idiot, a young lad who’s had to grow up with all these cameras consistently on him and had to basically learn what he can and can’t say in front of them. Slipping up from time to time, like most do. But, now? I’m honestly not too sure… It’s just a bit sad. Isn't it? There was so much potential there.”

I shrugged, a hearty sigh falling with my shoulders.

“I actually used to quite like his stuff a couple years ago, he’s got a way with words, with music overall really. Reckon if he’d gotten his shit together that he probably could’ve been ranked higher up on the list of rockstars. Could’ve changed or paved a way for newer musicians entering the scene. But not so much anymore. His songs lack the passion they once had, they’re not what they used to be. He works hard, I’ll give him that. Still, I can’t help but wonder if it’s just his band pulling his dead weight along with them now.”

I took a slow breath, then gazed down at the small amount of sticky notes I had pinned to the monitor beside me: the next segment. I’d have to wrap this one up quickly.

“Maybe that’s a bit harsh.” I said, chewing on my lower lip, “But honestly, I just hope that he takes an actual break sooner rather than later. The band looks spent and he just seems like he could do with some shut eye, some time away from all the cameras and prying eyes. Just so he can sort himself out good and proper, you know? Then again, that’s just my opinion among a sea of many.”

In truth, I really did think that Matty had real talent, that raw kind, and he seemed like a nice enough guy– or at least he had done, a couple of years back, before all the controversy and whatever else.

Now though, the man just seemed so caught up in it all, in the fame, the tabloids, the drama. Unaware of just how far he’d fallen.

Me, I’d seen it one too many times before, with many of the greats even, and as painful as it was to watch, what more could I say or do? I'm nobody in comparison.

I blew out a short breath.

“Fuck, that got all serious didn’t it?” I tried to laugh it all off and only felt a little more at ease when I finally glanced up and caught Adi’s sincere smile, “Anyway, onto our next segment, reading a couple of your lots tweets! Let's see what everyone's saying about our amazing Adi today, shall we? What was it last week, Ads, those yellow trousers you were wearing?”

“Oi, will you two please stop mucking about? We’ve got to get going!” I scolded without any actual heat, shaking my head as I held back a chuckle, forever amused by the infamous pair stood a way away from me.

I’d not long since left the studio, having walked with Adi to the nearby tube station so that she could hop a train home before I had headed on over to Finn’s. It was a typical route for me and not too long of a walk, but since arriving I’d been roped into packing up the many belongings that had been messily upended from the Spiderman backpack I was so often seen carrying about.

My gaze skittered over to the other side of the room once I’d teethed together the bag’s plastic zipper, over to where my son, Teddy, was currently in the midst of being whirled around by his godfather, tawny coloured curls flying in every-which direction whilst his cheeky grin grew even more prominent.

I felt the corners of my mouth lift upwards as I watched my best mate laugh at whatever it was the toddler had just said to him, tickling the boy’s sides as he did. If I was feeling incredibly sappy, I’d tell Finn then just how thankful I was to have him around, because he truly was incredible.

From the moment I’d found out that I was pregnant, Finn had been there for me. He loved my son almost as though Teddy was his own, he adored the kid like no other and had placed him on a pedestal high above everyone else since the day he was born.

Finn was always free to take Teddy whenever I had the show to fret about too, or if I was ever in dire need of another helping hand. He was fiercely protective of the two of us and I knew in the very depths of my heart that there would never be a hair harmed on my son’s head so long as he was around.

I was pulled from my thoughts just as the toddler in question came bounding over, giggling uncontrollably as Finn chased after him, his arms stretched out wide and crouched down low to mimic the small boy's height. I couldn't help but notice the matching grins they both wore.

“Help!” Teddy squealed as he flung himself into my awaiting arms, allowing me to wrap him up and settle him safely on my hip, using my frame as a shield to block him from Finn’s view.

"You can't hide from me Teds, I’ll always find you!" Finn taunted playfully, laughing merrily whilst he wiggled his fingers at Teddy, who was only just peeking out at him from over my shoulder.

Teddy squirmed in my grasp, giggling and screaming senselessly as he tried to dodge Finn’s oncoming hands that had since managed to softly graze his sides. I could only roll his eyes in fond exasperation, the pair never failing to brighten my day, and couldn't help but feel ever so grateful for whatever being had brought Finn into both mine and Teddy’s lives.

You see, Finn was the closest thing I’d ever had to a brother, let alone a best friend. He’d been the family I’d never known I’d needed, a home away from home. And I knew that I could always count on him for just about anything and he had proved that the day I’d turned up on his doorstep in the pissing rain one Tuesday night, utterly terrified after having just found out that I was expecting.

“Alright, you lot!” I began, batting away one of Finn’s advancing hands as he made to grab at Teddy's tiny ankle. “We've got to get home in time for your bath and tea, and I think Finn here has to pick up Liv from work.”

I was directing my voice towards the toddler in my arms but also sent a knowing look Finn’s way, one which caused the man’s eyes to widen in immediate realisation. ‘Liv’ was actually the lovely Olivia, Finn’s newest fling– only she had managed to last quite a while longer than the rest, a new record for him really.

“Shit, yeah.” Finn muttered mostly to himself before he hurried on over to his desk in the far corner. I could only laugh quietly, Teddy joining in too when he noticed, and watched on as Finn hastily started to grab at an array of items, shoving them into his jean pockets. Phone. Wallet. Keys.

When he was finished, and somewhat out of breath, Finn spun back around towards us and shot an accusing brow our way, not too pleased about having been the source of our mirth. Teddy and I couldn't help ourselves then and laughed a little harder at his impervious expression.

But with that all done and over with, I simply pressed my nose against the side of Teddy's head and smiled contently into his curls whilst Finn merely rolled his eyes at the two of us, chuckling before he made a start for the door. I followed just behind him, Teddy's backpack slung low over my shoulder and a happy little boy nestled in my arms.

***

People lover @/user1 Imagine being a mediocre radio host and thinking you know the ins and outs of the music industry.. #CancelMouse

102 @/user2 Don't mind me, reckon I just found my new favourite radio show:)

Ugh! @/user3 Mouse sounded proper excited today but switched up so quick when that 75 bloke came up://

Soloveme @/user4 Hate to see people supporting toxic behaviour, sit down.

Milk @/user5 Don’t hate me, I'll forever be a matty girlie!! But @Mouseonamic I kinda agree??

Paris @/user6 Do you think he’s seen it yet? > Too_shy @/user7 Probably, it’s trending rn >> Drummepls @/user8 Hope he’s okay and doesn’t take it as a personal attack..

He should’ve known really.

He should’ve fucking known.

Even in his drunken state he should have known not to look at what they were all fucking saying about him. Slumped on the floor of his hotel room, propped up against the bathroom door, too exhausted to think about moving, let alone try.

He’d only heard a small snippet, caught the last of a conversation on it in a cab ride back from the club the band had found themselves in. But he had heard it, and he had listened.

"He's got the whole world falling at his feet." He fucking wished. "Changed." Too right. "A load of crap- publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that- but now I'm not too sure." Laughable, man. "It's just a bit sad." The story of his fucking life. "Potential." When’s he never not disappointing someone? "Lacks passion." Passion lies in living, mate, and he hasn't felt alive in a very long time.

"Not what it used to be." Who he used to be.

He lit another cigarette from a crumpled pack he’d pulled from his back pocket and watched on as a curl of smoke unfurled in the air. He only wished he’d gone and brought something upstairs with him, or grabbed one of them little bottles from the minibar before he had decided he’d needed a piss. But if he closed his eyes hard enough he could imagine it all going dark, the world just fading around him, and the cigarette was suddenly enough.

Though, even then he still couldn’t quite muffle the loud, pitying laugh that escaped him as he continued to scroll through the mass of tweets that never faltered on his phone. They were like a freight train, unable to stop.

Matty wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Never had he ever felt so fucking lost. Desperate for everything to just pause for a simple second. To stop and just leave him alone for a bit. To have the world let him wallow in the dark dank pit he's hollowed out for himself.

But what a fucking life, hey?

Carelessly, Matty thumbed across the dimming screen, his intoxicated mind too focused on the task at hand to remember why exactly it was he was even sitting there on the cold bathroom floor. Something to do with Hann, he supposed, or George. Perhaps another heated encounter? Probably.

The sound of his phone's keyboard echoed off the surrounding walls and he breathed out a self-depreciating chuckle when he clicked send on the tweet he’d been attempting to curate, not caring enough for the consequences. Hardly even thinking, in truth.

He was far too gone to care anymore, already knew firsthand what the repercussions would be tomorrow. But at that moment, he just wanted honesty. To tell the truth, for once. To let them all know that he knew he was a shit excuse for a person.

What more could the world possibly say anyway?

Everyone around him was the same. He was simply just a puppet on a string. They’d make him sing and dance until the day he finally wrapped those wired strings tightly around his neck, and then all they'd be able to do is sit back and watch the show. And he'd enjoy every unabating second of it.

Matty @/trumanblack 10s ago Radio shows are sick man, gotta love them! And I sort of am sad haha. And I do lie? We all lie, I spose. But just listen to the radio, kids! Open your ears!

He laughed silently after, thoroughly amused with himself, and tossed the phone off somewhere off to the side so that he wouldn’t have to look at it again.

Bullshit. It was all just fucking bullshit.

219 notes · View notes

imagines--galore · 1 year ago

Text

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Eighteen

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen,

A/N: Prepare yourselves people. Note - Italics is Flashback.

It was late.

But for some reason, she couldn't sleep.

Sighing to herself as her blue eyes flitted from one waterbender form to the other, Orora could feel her hand start to fall asleep where she was resting it under her chin. Setting the scroll she had been studying to the side, the young waterbender glanced at the night sky through the window. She should probably be sleeping, considering they had an early morning tomorrow.

Picking up her bag, she put the scroll inside and was about to put it away but she paused when she spotted a paper at the very bottom of the bag. Taking it she unfolded it, and was surprised to see a drawing of Appa. Orora didn't remember keeping it.

And honestly, with Zuko being sick and then moving to the Upper Ring, she had actually forgotten that Aang, Katara and Sokka were actually in Ba Sing Se.

She gnawed at her bottom lip as set the paper aside. Had Appa found Aang? And if so, had they already left the city? Maybe if they were still here she could go and meet them.

That would be fun, she mused to herself, her mind wandering to those few days she had spent with all of them aboard the Water Tribe boat while sailing towards land.

The candle flickered low as she sat on her futon with her back against the wall. Her blanket pooled around her legs, where one was stretched out in front of her, while the other she had pulled up towards her chest a little, wrapping her arms around it in a loose embrace. As she continued to stare out the window, her mind began to wander to the first days of her journey.

They seemed like such a long time ago, and yet she remembered every single detail.

After all, she made her first friends during those few days.

————————–

With her bag slung over her shoulder, and the gentle breeze from the open waters brushing against her face, Orora could hardly dare to bring herself to believe that she was actually about to do this.

She had initially thought even getting on the boat would be a struggle, since she didn't think Master Pakku, the appointed leader of the small expedition, would even allow her to go.

But luckily, she had asked him while Katara had been standing next to him.

And that girl had been able to convince the grouchy old man and invited Orora onto the ship.

"So, are you excited? I mean this is your first time away from home right?" Katara's happy voice had Orora breaking away from her thoughts and turning to look at her. She smiled and shrugged. "I guess I'm a little nervous. I mean, I've never even seen actual land before." She said with a small laugh.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll love it. I did when I saw land and trees and plants for the first time. More then what you've seen at the Spirit Oasis." Katara reassured her, smiling she glanced over her shoulder where her brother, Aang were helping Appa settle onto the boat.

"Come on!" The girl reached out to take Orora's hand, an act that took the other girl by surprise. "Sokka? Aang? This is Orora, she's going ashore for the first time."

To say Orora was a little stunned would be an understatement. She'd just been introduced to the Avatar.

The Avatar.

Sliding down from where he sat on top of the giant bison's head, Aang grinned and held out his hand. "Hey! Nice to meet you! You must be pretty excited."

Orora blinked.

Like any other person living in their world, she had heard fantastical tales about the Avatar. She had been told about the power they possessed, had read up on all previous Avatars out of curiosity and been fascinated by it all. She had even witnessed that awesome power during the Fire Nation attack.

And yet, here stood the Avatar.

A young boy.

A kid.

Aang frowned as he waved his hand in front of Orora's face. "Erm....hello? You alright there Orora?" He asked. The girl quickly shook her head, her thoughts returning back to her as she nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry. Its nice to meet you Avatar Aang." She said, taking his hand and shaking it. "Just Aang is fine." He replied, still smiling.

A loud grunt from behind had him continuing. "Oh and this is Appa, my flying bison and this is Momo." He added when a small creature landed on his shoulder. Orora smiled, it was cute.

"So you've never gone ashore your whole life?" The other boy, Sokka, asked as he walked to stand next to them. He looked like the typical boy she had seen play soldier in the streets. Orora shrugged. "My father didn't believe in women leaving the house unless they had to." Beside her Katara frowned. "Well that's just wrong. If we had that rule at the South Pole, Sokka here would never get anything done. He relies on me to do everything for him." She added with a grin.

Sokka frowned. "Not everything." He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Katara smiled good-naturedly at her brother before adding. "Why don't you go put your things downstairs, then we can have lunch together."

Orora nodded. "Sounds good to me."

————————–

It was a little strange being invited to sit with people her own age. Growing up she had always been something of an outcast. Girls were taught of marriage, healing, keeping house and babies the whole time they were growing up. And that was what they talked about as well.

But not Orora.

She was more interested in reading books and learning as much about waterbending as she could. And other topics as well, but waterbending was always her favorite subject. That wasn't to say other girls didn't like to learn, they did, just not at the same obsessive level as Orora.

So there she was, sitting in a small circle with Aang, Sokka, and Katara.

With no idea what to say.

"Now that you've satisfied your curiosity about Soulmates, why don't you tell us why you decided to come on this expedition?" Katara, ever the friendly and kindhearted girl asked.

As was her nature, Orora stuck to the truth.

"My father found out I used waterbending to defend myself by fighting off some Fire Nation soldiers." She shrugged. "So he banished me."

An awkward silence followed her words, where the other three stared at her before glancing at one another. Sensing that whatever she had said was wrong, a feeling she was familiar with, Orora made to leave.

"I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I'll just-"

"Wait, where are you going?" Aang suddenly asked, reaching out to grasp her wrist since he was sitting the closest. "You didn't make any of us uncomfortable. Its just, your news surprised us that's all."

Sokka and Katara nodded along, to which Orora blinked. Sensing that maybe she didn't have the best social skills, Katara decided to intervene. "Hey Sokka? Why don't you take out one of your maps and show Orora all the places she can go visit?"

The girl had barely gotten the word maps out of her mouth before her brother was speeding away to take them out of his bag on Appa's saddle. He'd already started to chatter away, going a mile a minute, prompting Orora to glance at Katara and Aang. "Is he always this excited about maps?" She asked. Both of them laughed, with Sokka pouting slightly at her words, before continuing with his tirade of words.

Still it was fun sitting there, bent over the map and having all three of them point out the locations she could visit, should she choose to. In between their recommendations, they began to tell stories of their own adventures while they had been visiting those locations themselves.

Orora was fascinated, and began to ask questions herself. It didn't take long before all four of them fell into a comfortable and easy rhythm where they were chatting and exchanging thoughts as if they had been doing so for a long time.

And they continued to talk, long after the sun had gone down and only stopped when Pakku said it was time for bed.

————————–

The next few days would come to be the best days Orora had ever had.

Why?

Because she made her first friends.

Orora had worried that all three of them were simply tolerating her for as long as they were there.

How wrong she was.

It actually surprised her that they wanted her around because they liked her. And truthfully, she liked them back.

Sokka with his jokes and penchant to think of himself as more then he was, always managed to make her smile. And when he got to know that she didn't know much about hand-to-hand combat, he took it upon himself to teach her a few moves. For her own safety.

"I could always use my waterbending on them." She had countered.

"Yeah, but what if you don't have water available to you?" He had asked. "Look, I've taught Katara a few moves too, even though she's good at waterbending. Its better to be prepared. Trust me."

It was strange to have someone else be so sincere with her and actually worry about her. While she went through a punching move Sokka was making her perfect, a random thought occurred to her. She paused, standing just a few feet away from Sokka and frowned at him.

"Is this what its like?" She asked.

"Is what like this?" Sokka asked with a confused frown.

"To have a brother? Is this what its like."

He may have known her for only a few days, but Sokka had learned that Orora tended to speak her mind no matter the thought. She didn't worry about offending anyone and that took guts. It kind of reminded him of Katara and her own beliefs.

Though having her ask him if having a brother meant someone looking out for her, he did feel a small amount of pity for the other girl. She'd told them about her entire family, and he couldn't really wrap his head around the fact that her brothers didn't take care of her like he took care of Katara.

Weren't all brothers supposed to take care of their sisters?

Still Sokka smiled. "Yeah, I guess in a way it is, though it also comes with healthy helping of teasing and arguing." He added with a grin.

"It must be nice." She said, her demeanor turning a little sad. "Neither of my two brothers acted like you are. Its strange. But nice." She added, to which Sokka waved an arm. "Their loss. They're missing out on having a cool sister."

Grinning at his compliment, the young girl dropped into the stance he had just taught once more, committing all that he had to teach to memory.

The best part of chatting with Sokka, was when he showed her his weapons and she created exact replicas of them out of ice. He nearly burst into happy tears when she created one for his boomerang and it had actually worked when she'd thrown it in the air.

Though it took off half of a passenger's beard as it went by.

He had looked around in confusion at the sight of the ice boomerang stuck in the post in front of him, before he began to lament the loss of his facial hair.

Sokka and Orora glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes, identical expressions of nervousness on their faces and sneaked away as if nothing had happened.

Forming a silent pact, neither of them spoke of that moment again.

————————–

For someone who held immense power, being friends with Aang was a breeze.

Pun not intended.

On the very second day, he had offered to take her up on Appa. And Orora had very nearly screamed out in joy when he did.

"Sorry." She said, once she had calmed down. "But since I saw Appa I've wanted to go for a ride, but I didn't want to offend you by asking."

Aang shook his head. "No worries. Appa loves giving rides to new people. He thinks its the best way to travel, and I agree with him." The boy grinned, patting Appa on the nose as he did.

"Well I guess its a good thing I was saving something for him then." So saying, she quickly reached into her bag and pulled out a hunk of bread. It was a little stale, but Appa didn't seem to mind. With one swipe of his tongue, he'd swallowed the bread and let out a happy groan.

Before licking one very wet tongue all along her body.

Aang had laughed himself hoarse at her expression. Though with a quick waterbending move the saliva had been thrown into the water. Still, that did not deter her from climbing up beside Aang on Appa's head and waving at Katara and Sokka who watched from nearby.

"Appa! Yip yip!"

Her initial reaction was letting out a yelp of surprise and hanging onto Appa's reins for dear life. But that was the only sign of nervousness she showed. Pretty soon she was enjoying the cool wind in her hair and against her face. Not to mention the view from so far up.

"I agree with Appa." She said, after a few minutes of enjoying the ride in silence. "This is the best way to travel." They didn't go far, the boat they were traveling by stayed in view, but it was still an astounding experience.

"Does it always feel this freeing and amazing? Flying whenever you want to?" She sighed wistfully. Aang nodded.

"Yeah, it is. And its even better when I use my staff." Orora had seen it many times and had asked about it some time ago. "I wish I could go with you so I could fly all the time." The waterbender sighed, holding her hand out to catch a cloud as it floated by.

"Well why don't you?"

His words had her frowning at him. "What do you mean?" She asked, to which he shrugged, his arms held out in front of him where he was holding the reins. "What I mean is, you could always come travel with me, Katara and Sokka. You'll fit right in!" He added with a grin.

Orora pursed her lips, forehead creased as she thought over what he had just said.

Travel with the Avatar and his friends? That would truly be an adventure. They were all so nice and they were her friends. People who actually liked her and didn't mind that she was so forward with her words. Really Katara seemed to get a kick out of it whenever she would knock Sokka down a notch from whatever pedestal he put himself on.

And yet..........

She looked away, staring out at the horizon, the clouds floating around them. So far up here, it felt like she was in a whole other world.

Seeing her hesitate, Aang reached out to pat her on the shoulder. "You don't have to decide now. Just think about it. Its just Katara and I were talking." She stayed silent so he continued. "But I know its also important to go out into the world on your own and find yourself, as I'm sure that's what you're trying to do."

Orora raised an eyebrow at him. "How did you figure that?" Aang grinned.

"Through my mystical powers as the Avatar." He said in a low spooky voice, prompting Orora to roll her eyes and smile at him. Aang chuckled. "And also because, I'm pretty observant, and well, I can see that you feel a little lost now that you don't have a purpose in life."

Still surprised at his ability to observe so eloquently, Orora nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I want to see the world. This is going to be the first time I'm out there and just being myself and not hiding behind a mask. I've been doing it for so long that it feels strange walking around and being just myself." Aang smiled at her in an encouraging manner, prompting her to continue. "And you're right, I want to find my place in it as well. As the Avatar, you know your place in the world, and for Katara and Sokka, their place is beside you."

Silence followed her words for a good few minutes, where the both of them just sat there with Appa lazily moving through the air. Finally, with a clearing of her throat. "Maybe, in the future, when I find out more about myself, I can come with you guys?" She asked, feeling a little uncertain and shy.

Though his response told her she didn't have to feel that way at all. "Well there's a spot reserved just for you then. I'll tell Katara and Sokka too, make sure Sokka doesn't try to fill it by buying a new pet or something."

Orora laughed.

"Hey, did you know you could bend clouds because of the water in them?"

"You can really do that?"

"Yeah! Here, I'll teach you."

————————–

Katara was a force to be reckoned with.

Orora had heard whispers of the girl who had found a place in Master Pakku's class. The Healing Huts had gossiped non-stop about it. And while she had admired the girl from afar, now Orora actually got to practice and exchange knowledge with her.

The other girls at the Healing Hut had either thought her too snobbish or too intimidating for their likeness. In reality, Orora had just been uncertain when it came to approaching them.

Mostly because she didn't know how to make friends. And no matter how hard she tried, there were no texts in her father's library that could help her with that either.

Talking with Katara was easy. She was so eager and ready with a kind word. It was amazing how she had turned out after all that had happened to her. The other girl had told Orora about their mother being taken by the Fire Nation, and while Orora had never had a strong relationship with her mother, she knew it would devastate her if something were to happen to her. And even though Katara carried that sadness with her in her heart, she didn't show it.

And that was incredibly strong of her.

With her own expertise in the art of Healing, she was able to teach Katara new things. It was fun talking to another waterbender and exchanging information. Katara, for her part, taught waterbending moves Orora didn't know. Her scrolls helped, but they could only help so much. In a span of few a days, Orora learned more then she could ever hope to.

She and Katara would go through waterbending forms together in the evening. Sometimes Aang would join them, having still a long way to go till he mastered waterbending. Between the three of them it was fun and Sokka would often get splashed with water more times then they could count.

One night, after finishing a good session where Orora had taught Katara a few waterbending tricks using ice, the girls settled around the fire to chat. "I heard you guys are leaving tomorrow." Orora's words had Katara sighing and nodding.

"Yeah, we have to start flying now that we're closer to land. We need to find Aang an Earthbending teacher." She added as a way to explain further. Orora nodded, eyes staring into the small fireplace that had been created to keep them warm.

"Did you think about Aang's offer?" The younger girl asked, her voice soft and gentle as she tried to gauge the older girl's reaction. It was strange, how Orora was older then her, and yet Katara had more world experience then she did. But then, maybe it wasn't fair to compare their lives.

"Thats all I've been thinking about the past two days." Orora finally responded. "And I......I don't know." Reaching up to where her long braid rested over her shoulder, she began to play with it by running her fingers through it. The fire crackled in front of them, casting shadows all around, and a warmth to settle in them.

It reminded her of the fire she had seen when her supposed soulmate had saved her.

Allowing the silence to continue, Orora sighed before moving to lay down on her back. Already the constellations had begun to change, the further they traveled from the North Pole. Katara glanced at Orora before grinning and laying down beside her as well, arms tucked behind her head. At last, the older girl spoke.

"Katara?"

She hummed in response to show she was listening. Orora licked her lips, eyes tracing the stars above. "Do you ever wander about your place in the world?"

"Huh." Katara frowned, pausing briefly as she thought over her answer. "Well, I don't really wander about it. I mean I've always known."

Turning her head to the side, she glanced at Katara, a little surprised. "You did?"

Her gaze trained to the heavens Katara shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, when my mom died, my place was at the South Pole taking care of my family. And when we found Aang in that iceberg and decided to travel with him, my purpose shifted to making sure he got to the North Pole safely. I mean, the whole world depends on him."

Orora smiled softly, gaze returning to the sky. "In a way, the world depends on you too. Since you're making sure Aang doesn't get himself eaten while riding a sea serpent or something."

Katara laughed softly before she continued. "True. Lately though, I've found that my place in life is to fight for the innocent alongside Aang and Sokka. To try and end this war and make this world safe."

The older girl was silent for a moment. "That's a pretty big commitment to make isn't it?" She said, her voice soft. "Especially considering you're all just kids, and I don't mean that in an offending way."

Katara pursed her lips before nodding. "No, I get what you're saying. And yeah." She moved to sit up, resuming her previous position. "I suppose it is."

The two of them remained motionless for a little while, each lost in her own thoughts, contemplating on what they had just spoken about. Finally, Katara turned her head to smile at Orora who was still on her back.

"But that's my place in the world." She said with a determined gleam in her eyes. "And, I'll be seeing it through with Aang and Sokka beside me."

Sitting up, Orora smiled at the other girl. "That's very brave and noble of you Katara." Fiddling with the end of her braid, the girl pursed her lips. "I wish I had that kind of strength."

Smiling kindly, Katara reached out to wrap an arm around Orora's shoulders. "Once you find your place in the world I'm sure you'll do the same. You're very brave coming out here and thinking of going off on your own Orora. I don't think I would be able to do it."

Orora grinned at the compliment before playfully nudging Katara with her shoulder. "Yeah, but you've already done so many other things. I mean what fourteen year old can say that she's helped earthbenders bust out of prison."

The other girl grinned proudly and nodded. "True, but, my point is, that no matter what you decide Orora, we'll understand."

Sighing Orora nodded smiling at her. "Thanks Katara." She smiled back.

"Anytime."

————————–

Someone was shaking her.

"Orora?"

And calling out to her.

"Orora, wake up."

Reluctantly, she forced her eyes to open just a little. The room was bathed in early morning sunshine, and she could hear the birds chirping outside. But what really caught her attention, was Zuko crouching beside her, hand on her shoulder and looking at her with a concerned expression.

"Are you alright?" He asked, reaching up to brush her tousled hair from her face. "I came in to wake you, and you were just sitting up like this." Her back was aching from where she had been sitting up the entire night, and her neck had a slight crick in it. Nodding the girl reached up to rub her eyes. "Yeah, I just fell asleep thinking."

"And you couldn't have fallen asleep thinking while lying down?" Giving him a grumpy yet sleepy look, she raised her hand, only to cover his face with it and push him backwards, making him fall back.

"I'm still too sleepy to deal with you Zuko. At least let me wash my face first." She grumbled, already moving to stand up and stretching to get rid of some of the ache in her body. Zuko laughed as he stood. "Yeah well, you better be quick. Uncle wants us to set out within the hour."

She pushed him towards the door. "I'll be out when I'm ready."

Taking advantage of her still semi-awake state, he couldn't help but tease her more. "And that will take you two hours? Or three?"

He grinned at her as he stood at her door. Orora glared at him. "At least I don't spend half an hour on my hair making sure it falls perfectly over my forehead."

With that she slammed the door in his face.

Zuko stood there for a moment, reaching up to the aforementioned hair and running is fingers through it. "I only spend fifteen minutes on that." He called through the door.

————————–

A carriage was waiting for them outside. Iroh and Zuko were at the foot of the stairs that led up to their apartment above the tea shop, waiting for Orora to come down.

"Whats taking her so long?" The Prince grumbled, tapping his foot impatiently, his back towards the stairs. Iroh, going through a last minute checking of whatever they would need for the tea serving, glanced up and chuckled.

"You should prepare yourself for such tardiness my nephew. A lady always takes her time." Seeing movement at the top of the stairs, he smiled at the sight of his descending Pupil. "But it is always worth the wait."

Hearing her footsteps behind him, Zuko whirled around. "Finally! I knew you woul....." He trailed off, his eyes widening. Behind him, his Uncle laughed to himself before sneaking away. Orora, looking up from where she had been adjusting the folds of her dress, raised an eyebrow at him.

"It takes time to get ready Zuko." She responded, reaching up to fix her signature blue dragon comb in her hair. Since their arrival in Ba Sing Se, Orora had taken to wearing dark greens and gold. And while those dresses had been pretty on her, the lighter green of the dress she wore currently, fashioned after the latest Earth Kingdom fashion, made her an absolute vision.

Or at least to Zuko's eyes.

The soft green seemed to make her skin glow and her eyes seemed to.....Spirits! When had he begun to take notice of things like that and started writing poetry about it?!

It was all Orora's fault, he mused, as she stared up at him with a questioning look in her eyes. She made him see things in a way that even the ugliest of things looked beautiful.

After all, she had claimed his scar as beautiful, despite the fact that it marred half his face.

Or maybe it was just his lovesick brain that was making her appear much prettier to him then she really was?

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, a blush clear across her pale skin, he cleared his throat. Avoiding her gaze, he reached out to grab her hand and pull her out of the tea shop. "You better hope the Earth King doesn't mind people who are late." He said, helping her into the carriage, and climbing in behind her.

She shrugged. "If we're lucky, maybe he woke up late." Iroh laughed as he sat across from the two teens. Given his more robust figure, he had to take up one side of the carriage, while Zuko and Orora sat next to each other on the other side.

The carriage ride was silent, all three of them looking out of their respective windows and it wasn't long before they were standing in front of the palace where they were to meet the King.

"Many times I imagined myself here, at the threshold of the palace. But I always thought I would be here as a conqueror." Iroh continued, as all three of them walked towards the entrance. "Instead, we are the Earth King's personal guests, here to serve him tea." He chuckled. "Destiny is a funny thing."

Zuko glanced at Orora out of the corner of his eyes, only to catch her doing the same to him. The two smiled at one another. "It sure is, Uncle." The Prince stated.

Once inside they were shown to a spacious and beautifully decorated room. Setting the small basket he had brought down, Iroh started to unpack everything. The three of them settled next to one another, with Iroh putting the ingredients and everything else on the table. Orora helped him make it appear like a proper presentation, as they waited for the Earth King.

They waited.

And they waited some more.

And a little more.

The teapot began to steam away, and Orora yawned hugely, her eyes actually tearing up as she did.

"What's taking so long?" Zuko finally spoke up, clearly at the end of his patience.

Iroh shrugged as he poured some hot tea. "Maybe the Earth King overslept." Orora smirked at Zuko. "Well maybe I was right then."

No sooner had the words come out of her mouth when several Dai Li agents entered the room and began to create a circle around them. The moment they entered the entire atmosphere of the room changed. The hair at the nape of her neck stood up on end, an icy feeling trailed down her back as her eyes darted around.

Zuko seemed to be thinking along the same lines as her, as he leaned forward to whisper. "Something's not right."

And then suddenly, Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, and more importantly Zuko's sister and her Master's niece, was standing in front of them.

"It's tea time!" She stated, a gleam in her eyes that had nothing to do with the joy of seeing her family.

Zuko quickly stood. "Azula!" He shifted so he was standing in front of both Uncle and Orora, the latter of whom was staring at the Princess with a look that could freeze even the brightest of fires.

"Have you met the Dai Li?" Azula continued as if she were talking of the weather and not the multiple deadly earthbenders that surrounded them. "They're earthbenders, but they have a killer instinct that's so firebender. I just love it."

Orora stood to stand just behind Zuko, placing a hand on his elbow. A gesture that did not go unnoticed by the ever observant Princess, who narrowed her eyes at them. Picking up the steaming tea, Iroh smiled at his niece. "Did I ever tell you how I got the nickname 'The Dragon of the West'?" He asked, his voice pleasant.

Azula made a face, checking her nails as she spoke in a condescending tone. "I'm not interested in a lengthy anecdote, Uncle."

Iroh smiled. "It's more of a demonstration, really." He brought the cup to his lips, closing his eyes as he took a deep sip. Zuko looked over at him, smiling briefly. The next moment Orora felt him grab the hand on his elbow and pull her against him, and behind Iroh.

And not a moment too soon.

Iroh opened his mouth wide, letting a huge stream of fire. It was so intense that she could actually feel it, despite Zuko shielding her. Taking the distraction as an advantage, Iroh made an escape route through a wall and out into the corridor. Zuko kept a firm grip on her hand, pulling her along. But she quickly pulled away from his grip, pulling out a stream of water from the hidden water satchel around her thigh and sending several icicles flying through the air. Catching and stopping a few rock projectiles shot by the Agents. Up ahead was a dead end, but that didn't stop her Master, who blasted a hole through the wall, and quickly jumped down and land on some bushes.

"Quick! Jump!" He called out to her and Zuko. Orora did not hesitate, creating a frozen slide and skating down to come to a stop next to him.

She glanced back up to where Zuko stood at the edge.

"Come on! You'll be fine!" Iroh called, just as Orora yelled. "Zuko! Jump now!"

But then he said something that made her heart stop in her chest. "No! I'm tired of running! It's time I faced Azula!"

She froze, a coldness settling in the pit of her stomach. "Zuko! No!" The girl screamed, moving as if she were about to go back to him. But Iroh wasn't having it. Reaching out he quickly and rather roughly grasped her wrist and pulled her away.

"No! Master! We have to go back! We have to help him!" She cried, trying her best to break away from him, stumbling as she did. "So you could be captured like him?" Her Master yelled over his shoulder. "We have a better chance of helping him from out here!"

Despite the panic churning in her stomach, and the fact that she felt as if she were choking on her heart, the girl was quick to see sense and stopped struggling, following after him.

————————–

"That son of a hog-monkey! What in the world was he thinking?! Was he dropped on his head as a baby?! Facing off against all those Agents and his sister! I cannot believe him!"

Once they were at a safe location, all that fear had melted away to be replaced with an anger that burned in her eyes. She was growling under her breath, while also threatening to maim or seriously harm Zuko for being so stupid.

Iroh glanced at Orora as they hid behind an abandoned living quarter. He neglected to state how she had been about to follow after his nephew in the same amount of danger.

Best not to aggravate her then she already was.

Still, he shushed her, motioning for her to lean forward. "We need to secure an Agent for information. Then we shall both go to the Avatar and ask him for his help."

Orora blinked. "Wait, Aang? Can't we do this on our own? I don't want to involve him, Katara and Sokka. What if they get hurt?" Iroh shook his head. "There is strength in numbers, and it would do us well to have that on our side."

Peaking out from behind their hiding place, her Master turned back to her with a smile. "Now, lets see how good you've gotten with your bending." He motioned for her to step forward and take the lead in capturing a Dai Lee agent.

She could hear footsteps as they approached. The moment they sounded near enough, she threw her arm out, catching the Agent around the waist with a water whip and swinging him in the air. The Agent screamed his head off, his loss of composure costing him the stone gloves he wore as they fell from his hands. Twisting her arm, she slammed the man down on the ground, knocking him out.

"Excellent form my dear." Iroh applauded as he appeared at her side with some rope. "Now lets get to find the Avatar."

————————–

It really didn't take long.

Once the Agent woke, he was quick to give up any information he had. It helped speed things along that Orora threatened him with an ice dagger. She wouldn't seriously hurt him, but enough to make him see she was not in the mood for any false leads.

Iroh knocked and the door slid open to quickly reveal........the girl they had met while traveling the countryside. Orora blinked over Iroh's shoulder, having not expected her to being there.

"I need your help." Iroh stated in a grave tone, to which the girl simply waved at him. Behind her, Orora could see Sokka and Aang in varying degrees of disbelief.

"Aang! Sokka!" She called out, rushing past Iroh to envelope both boys in a brief hug. "Wait! Orora!" Aang's voice came muffled against her shoulder before she pulled back and grinned at them both.

"You cut your hair?" The girl rolled her eyes. "Really Sokka? That's the first thing you notice about me."

Sokka nodded. "Well in my defense its the first thing I observed. And your white hair." He added head tilting in curiosity. Aang, having recovered from his shock, hugged Orora again. "Its so good to see you! I like your new look." He added with a small smile, referring to her white patch of hair. Orora smiled back before Aang's attention returned to Iroh and Toph.

"You guys know each other?" He asked, surprise coating his voice. The blind girl nodded. "I met them in the woods once and knocked him down." Iroh smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "Then he gave me some tea and some very good advice."

Iroh took a tentative step forward. "May I come in?" The girl nodded and stepped aside to allow him in. Once she'd shut the door, he turned to look at them. "Princess Azula is here in Ba Sing Se." He said, his voice grave and serious.

Aang frowned. "She must have Katara." Orora's eyes widened in horror. "She was captured too?" Sokka frowned at her words.

"Too?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow. Iroh nodded. "She has captured my nephew as well."

A beat of silence, in which Orroa glanced nervously at Aang, ready to step in. If she had to beg them to save Zuko, she would.

"Then we'll work together to fight Azula, and save Katara and Zuko." Aang finally stated, looking at Iroh and then Orora. She closed her eyes briefly, before shooting him a small smile of gratitude.

Sokka, though, had other thoughts. "Whoa there! You lost me at Zuko."

It was Iroh who stepped forward to make a case for his nephew. Placing his hands on Sokka's shoulders he spoke. "I know how you must feel about my nephew. But believe me when I tell you that there is good inside him." He said, almost sounding like he was begging Sokka to believe him.

Sokka pushed Iroh away "Good inside him isn't enough!" He stated with venom in his voice. "Why don't you come back when it's outside him too, okay?"

Aang stepped forward. "Katara's in trouble." He said, trying to reason with his friend. "All of Ba Sing Se is in trouble. Working together is our best chance."

Sokka pursed his lips, looking just as reluctant as he felt. A moment passed, before Orora stepped forward. "Sokka." She said, her voice soft. He turned to look at her. Orora gulped, pursing her lips. "He saved my life at the North Pole. I would be dead if it weren't for him. I owe him."

A beat of silence.

"Please."

Finally, something shifted in his eyes and Sokka nodded silently. Heaving a sigh of relief Orora moved to hug him briefly, to which he patted her on the back a little awkwardly.

"We brought someone along who might help us." Iroh said, already leading the way outside to the nervous looking Dai Li agent. The blind girl quickly eartbended a couple of pillars around the man, forcing him to stand up. Orora reached out, yanking away the cloth that covered his mouth.

The moment it was off, the Agent started to speak. "Azula and Long Feng are plotting a coup! They're going to overthrow the Earth King!" He confessed, eyes wide with fear at the sight of several angry looking people in front of him.

Sokka stepped forward, waving his weapon in the man's face. "My sister! Where are they keeping Katara?"

The Agent eyes the weapon nervously. "In the Crystal Catacombs of Old Ba Sing Se, deep beneath the palace." That was all the information they needed. Glancing at one another they nodded, and leaving the Agent where he was, set off to find the Catacombs.

————————–

There was no way to actually find the Catacombs.

Toph, as Orora learned the blind girl was called, was able to feel them underground. "Well, what do you know? There is an ancient city down there. But it's deep." Taking up a stance, she made a tunnel through the ground, leading downwards. Sokka stood to the side, going over what they were all supposed to do.

"We should split up." He finally said, turning to Aang. "Aang, you go with Iroh and Orora to look for Katara and the angry jerk." Turning to Iroh, he placed a hand on his shoulder. "No offense."

Iroh simply shrugged in response. "None taken." He stated in a tone that told Orora that he actually agreed with Sokka.

Continuing where he left off, he went on. "And I'll go with Toph to warn the Earth King of Azula's coup."

Orora stepped forward. "We can meet back at the Jasmine Dragon. Its the new tea shop that just opened up. Ask anyone about it. They'll know."

Sokka nodded. "Good idea. Its best if we have a meeting spot. Good luck!" With that, he patted Toph on the shoulder and led her away. Orora turned to where Iroh and Aang were standing at the entrance of the tunnel.

Inhaling deeply, she gave a nervous smile. "Well, lets get going then."

With every step they made their way deeper and deeper underground. Aang earthbended their way forward, while Iroh lit a small fire in his hand to give them light as it slowly grew darker.

"Congratulations on learning a new element Aang." Orora said, smiling at her friend. He smiled back. "Thanks Orora. I'm still getting the hang of it, but its been coming to me. Toph is a great teacher."

Orora nodded. "She looks it. Her ability to sense things with her feet is amazing." Though she was speaking normally, Orora was actually really worried about both Zuko and Katara. She just hoped neither of them were hurt.

"Have you really been traveling with Iroh and Zuko all this time?" Aang asked, a little curious about his friend's choice of companions.

"Iroh has been my teacher these past few months, and I've learned a great deal from him." She finally responded. "And.......Zuko........he...well......." She pursed her lips, her gaze flickering towards her finger where the thread was wrapped around the tip.

And that small movement was enough for Aang to stop short and stare at her. "No way!" He breathed, grey eyes wide and disbelieving. "Zuko is your soulmate?!" He asked, or rather demanded to know. They had paused where they were. "No wonder you had all those questions about Soulmates back on the boat."

He raised a hand to his forehead as he blew out a small breath. "I can't imagine what you went through when you realized your soulmate was the Prince of the Fire Nation itself."

She let out a dry chuckle. "Tell me about it. Seems fate has a weird sense of humor." Glancing at Iroh who was looking at them both patiently, she extended a hand to lay on Aang's shoulder.

"Look, I promise I'll tell you everything once we get out of here with both Katara and Zuko safe." She promised. Questions burned at the tip of his tongue, but being reminded of Katara had him nodding and moving the next piece of boulder that was in their way.

"Well at least it'll be easy for us to find Zuko. We can just follow the string." Aang said, before glancing at his own little finger. "Then again, it wouldn't have mattered since we would've found Katara the same way."

It took a moment for Orora to realize what he had just said. Grinning, she quickly threw her arms around Aang from behind in a brief yet fierce hug. "I'm so happy for you Aang. You both deserve each other." She added, to which Aang beamed, though the light in his eyes slightly diminished.

"Whats wrong?" She asked, frowning at him. Moving another section of earth out of the way, he sighed. The young Avatar was silent for a good few moments before he turned to Iroh who had remained quiet, wanting to give the both of them the time they needed to catch up and ease their worries however they could. Even if it meant idle chatter.

"So, Toph thinks you give pretty good advice, and great tea!" He added with a smile.

Iroh chuckled. "The key to both is proper aging. What's on your mind?" He asked just as Aang earthbended again before replying.

"Well, I met with this guru who was supposed to help me master the Avatar State and control this great power, but to do it, I had to let go of someone I love. And I just couldn't." All three of them came to a stop.

"Wait! He wanted you to break your bond with Katara?" Orora demanded, sounding disturbed. She turned to look at her Master.

Iroh gave her a small nod of confirmation. "Perfection and power are overrated." He stated. "I think you were very wise to choose happiness and love."

"Especially since both of them can be very hard to come by." Orora added, to which Aang nodded in agreement.

"But what happens if we can't save anyone and beat Azula?" Aang added, sounding frustrated. "Without the Avatar State, what if I'm not powerful enough?"

Iroh hummed in thought as they walked further underground, his fire the only source of light. "I don't know the answer." He responded honestly. "Sometimes, life is like this dark tunnel. You can't always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you just keep moving." Aang earthbended the last of the rocks away to reveal the Crystal Catacombs. Iroh's fire went out and the sudden gust of wind and he smiled. "You will come to a better place."

Reaching out to place a comforting hand on Aang's arm, Orora smiled at him. "You have people standing beside you Aang. Ready to fight with you. Avatar State or no, you won't be fighting alone. And that's another kind of power."

Aang smiled in gratitude. "You've changed since I last saw you Orora." He said, to which she shrugged. "We've all changed." Lifting her hand, she observed it closely.

"Come on. Lets find our Soulmates."

————————–

Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would be imprisoned alongside the water tribe girl he had hunted alongside the Avatar for so long.

Katara, he remembered Orora saying her name was. After the initial yelling, and his confession about loosing his mother, just as she had lost hers, they had both fallen silent.

He couldn't help but berate himself for trying to face off Azula. But then when it came to his sister, he tended to not think and just do, to try and overtake her. A sigh left him, as his mind conjured the face Orora had made when she had realized he wasn't going to follow them.

She was going to tear him a new one when they were together again. The thought of her yelling at him had a small smile pulling at his lips.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you before." Katara's apologetic voice cut through the silence.

Zuko shrugged, indifferent to her words because really, they hadn't hurt him. He'd been hurt worse by his Father. "It doesn't matter."

There was a brief pause before she continued. "It's just that for so long now, whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy, it was your face."

Raising a hand to his scar, he nodded. "My face? I see."

She shook her head, approaching him. "No, no, that's-that's not what I mean."

Zuko sighed. "It's okay. I used to think this scar marked me. The mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever." He paused, as once again his mind wandered off to Orora. "But then someone made me realize that it wasn't an ugly thing. Not when there was another reason behind it." He wasn't about to tell Katara the whole story. So he just shrugged and added. "But lately, I've realized I'm free to determine my own destiny, even if I'll never be free of my mark."

Katara pursed her lips. "Maybe you could be free of it."

"What?" There was an element of disbelief in his tone. Katara nodded.

"I have healing abilities." She said, pulling out the vial that contained the water from the Spirit Oasis.

"It's a scar, it can't be healed. Besides, Orora has been traveling with us, and I'm sure she's a much better Healer then you. And if she couldn't heal it, I doubt you could." He hadn't meant to undermine her abilities, but he knew Orora more, knew that she was a strong Healer and would've offered to heal him if she could.

Katara shook her head. "She is a better Healer then I am, but she didn't have this." She held up the small vial. "This is water from the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. It has special properties, so I've been saving it for something important." She moved to stand in front of Zuko. "I don't know if it would work, but," She trailed off, reaching up hesitantly to place her hand on his scar.

Just as Orora had done so many times.

And yet when he closed his eyes, he only envisioned her, with her gentle words and the ability to knock him in his place.

Suddenly he felt a tug on his finger.

A loud rumbling sound followed by a crash had them both jumping where they stood. As the cloud of dust settled, three figures emerged from the opening.

Aang, Iroh and Orora.

"Aang! Orora!" Katara ran to hug the both of them together, while Iroh ran to embrace Zuko. Aang smiled briefly at the hug, before glaring at Zuko. Zuko glared back at Aang, not liking the way Orora was hugging him.

Granted she was also hugging Katara, but still. "I knew you would come." Katara said to Aang before smiling at Orora. "Its so good to see you again Orora." The girl smiled back.

"And you, Spirits, you had us all worried. Both of you." She added, finally moving to give Zuko a brief hug. Brief because Zuko pushed her off a little, prompting her to look a little hurt at his dismissal. But he barely noticed as he rounded on his Uncle.

"Uncle, I don't understand. What are you doing with the Avatar?" He asked, pointing to Aang.

Aang glared at the Prince. "Saving you, that's what." He said in a slightly sarcastic tone. Zuko growled, fists clenching as he took a step in Aang's direction, but was stopped by Iroh and Orora both.

"Zuko, it's time we talked." He turned to look at Aang and Katara. "Go help your other friends. We'll catch up with you." The both of them move to walk away, but then stop when they realized Orora wasn't following them.

Noticing their hesitance, the older girl quickly smiled at them. "I'll be right there guys. I hope that spot on your team is still open for me." Nodding, the both of disappeared into a cave.

Spot on the team?

Was Orora leaving?

Was she leaving him?

She was leaving him.

Orora was leaving him.

Dread filled his heart and clouded his mind, as he turned his head to the side.

"Why, Uncle?" He voiced, the hurt evident in his tone. Though from the fact that his Uncle had gone to his enemy, the Avatar for help, or that Orora was probably leaving him to go with the Avatar, he did not know.

"You're not the man you used to be, Zuko." He smiled. "You are stronger and wiser and freer than you have ever been. And now you have come to the crossroads of your destiny. It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good."

Good?

He had done good once before.

And that had earned him a scar.

He had done good before.

And had saved his soulmate, who was now leaving him.

Doing good had never worked in his favor.

He felt Orora step forward. "Zuko, you-AH!" Her words were cut off with a scream as the Crystals around them grew and encapsulated her and Iroh. Zuko assumed a fighting stance, and was greeted with the sight of his sister and two Dai Li agent sliding into the chamber.

"I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle." Azula spoke, her voice soft and sweet like honey. "But Zuko, Prince Zuko, you're a lot of things, but you're not a traitor, are you?" She asked, her voice soft at the end.

"Release them immediately!" He ordered, power behind his words as he glared at his sister. Orora grunted slightly as she tried to free herself, but stopped when Iroh shook his head at her. His message was clear.

Don't draw attention to yourself.

Azula shrugged. "It's not too late for you, Zuko. You can still redeem yourself."

Iroh, not wanting Zuko to be influenced by his sister's words tried to intervene. "The kind of redemption she offers is not for you."

Azula sighed in a way a mother would sigh at a naughty child. "Why don't you let him decide, Uncle?" She said, before turning her sweetened attention back to her brother. "I need you, Zuko. I've plotted every move of this day, this glorious day in Fire Nation history, and the only way we win is together. At the end of this day, you will have your honor back. You will have Father's love. You will have everything you want."

She painted a pretty picture. She painted the exact picture he had wanted for so long. The very picture Orora had said he deserved. He deserved honor and love. He deserved everything.

Didn't he?

Hadn't he suffered enough?

For once Orora was silent. She knew if she spoke, Azula would not hold back in shutting her up. Iroh was right, maybe it was best to stay quiet and let Zuko decide on his own. He was changed now.

He would make the right choice.

Still, that didn't stop Iroh from pleading with his nephew. "Zuko I am begging you. Look into your heart and see what it is that you truly want."

Azula shrugs. "You are free to choose." She gestured to the Dai Li agents who promptly left, probably to get reinforcements. With one backward glance at the three of them, she disappeared into the darkness of the cave where Aang and Katara had gone.

The chamber echoed with a silence that pressed against his chest. His mind whirled, his heart burned. He could feel the eyes of his Uncle and his Soulmate at the back of his head.

"Zuko." Her soft comforting voice floated through the air. "Listen to your heart. What does it tell you?" She said the same words as his Uncle.

Finally, he turned. He looked to his Uncle first, who gave him a gentle smile. Then he looked at Orora.

Amber found blue.

He knew the moment she understood what he was about to do. He could see it in her eyes.

So without a backwards glance, he followed after his sister, leaving his Soulmate to call out to him as he raced away.

As far away from those heartbroken cries as possible.

————————–

As soon as he had disappeared, Orora began to struggle even more fiercely. "We have to get out. We have to help Aang and Katara. Azula will kill them." She was speaking in an almost frenzied tone as she tried to free her wrists where they were encapsulated in Crystal.

Iroh stood where he was, his eyes closed, a look of utter sorrow and disappointment on his face. "I thought I taught him enough." He lamented.

A wave of emotion rose within her, threatened to overtake her. But she stomped it down with a vicious growl.

No!

Her friends were in danger!

Now was not the time!

And maybe, maybe they were wrong. Maybe Zuko had gone to help Aang and Katara.

Maybe he would change his mind.

Suddenly the earth rumbled and a lone Dai Li agent appeared. He quickly looked around and once he was sure no one else was there, he quickly earthbended the Crystals, freeing them both.

"I am honored to help a High Ranking Officer of the White Lotus." He said, bowing respectfully to Iroh. Iroh nodded, before turning to Orora.

"Go help your friends. I need to take care of some business."

But his Pupil was already gone.

————————–

She arrived to a horrific scene.

Aang flying through the air, crashing into a building. Azula, Zuko and more then a dozen Dai Li agents, surrounding Katara who was on the ground.

Sheer anger coursed through her veins. Taking a running start, she leaped from her heightened location, using a large wave from a nearby canal to create a slide of ice which she quickly skated down, coming to land in front of Katara.

Her arms raised on either side of her body. The water slide split apart, only to create multiple sharp yet deadly daggers of ice.

Pointing straight at her Soulmate, his sister and the Agent.

"Take one more step and I'll send one right through you." She warned, her eyes dancing with a deadly gleam as she glared at them all.

One of the Agents, thinking she was bluffing, did step forward. Only to find two ice daggers embedded in his forearms. He dropped to the floor screaming in pain as blood oozed from his wounds.

Letting out a grunt, she threw her arms out, allowing each ice dagger to fly forward. While several hit their marks to various points of injuries, many of the Agents brought up shields of rock, while Zuko and Azula simply sent forward a burst of fire, melting them.

"Out of our way peasant." Azula growled, blue fire burning in her hands. She allowed a huge ball of it to fly towards Orora, who dodged, only to be knocked flying back by a Dai Li agent. She slammed into a pillar wall. Her entire body screamed with pain as she slid to the ground. Pushing herself onto her knees, the girl shot into position once more.

It was fight or die, and her entire sense of being had gone into survival mode.

In front of her, Katara had gathered enough strength to stand up. Waving her arms she created an octopus like creature around her, and not a moment too soon.

More Dai Li agents arrived.

While several surrounded Katara, even more surrounded her. Orora growled, bringing up twin whips of water in her hand. The ends of each tip was topped with a spiked boulder of ice. She panted as her eyes darted from one enemy face to another, looking for a chance to land a shot if any of them tried anything.

But then a light shone in the chamber.

Brighter then a hundred candles.

Every eye turned to Aang as he floated in the air. His eyes and tattoos glowing.

Orora gasped. Was this it? Was he about to go into the Avatar State?

So lost were they all in the sheer power of what Aang was about to unleash, that no one noticed Azula sneaking up behind Aang.

Until it was too late.

Lightning flashed, and the tips of Azula's fingers smoked as her aim found it's target.

Aang dropped to the ground.

"No!" A scream tore from her throat. With a single move of her boulder water whips, she was able to knock down the still surprised Dai Li agents. Seeing the path clear, she ran for Aang, creating a wave to catch his body just before he crashed to the ground.

And she wasn't the only one running towards him.

Both her and Katara reached him at the same time. Katara's hair was undone, her clothes torn. And Orora was sure she was in a similar state. Tears streamed down the other girl's face, as she cradled Aang's body and wept loudly.

Knowing exactly what Katara had just lost, Orora moved to stand protectively in front of the younger children. Waving her arms in a circle around her, she managed to call the water towards her and create several circular trunks of ice in front of her. With a flick of her wrist, a sharp round slate of ice lifted from each trunk. One move and they would fly through the air, cutting off limb or head if she desired.

Her eyes were full of pure hatred when she looked at Azula.

"I will kill you." She growled in a threatening manner. Azula simply smiled in a condescending manner.

But then Orora's gaze found his.

Where she had looked at him with such trust and adoration just this morning, now there was only hurt, anger and disdain.

So powerful were her emotions, that he actually hesitated in attacking her, his stance softened and his arms lowered a little.

A blast of fire stopped Azula from attacking. Iroh, the source of the blast, jumped down from the wall of the cave and stood in front of Orora and her friends.

"You've got to get out of here. I'll hold them off as long as I can." He called over his shoulder as he sent another wall of raging fire at his own family and the agents.

Her heart dropped and fear settled in her bones. "No! Master!"

"Orora!" He roared, stopping her in her tracks. "You swore an oath to do as I asked you. You swore!"

She stopped short.

After a moment a cry of utter frustration fell from her lips, and she threw her arms forward, allowing the trunks of ice to fly through the air and take several Dai Li agents down with them.

Running towards Aang and Katara, she quickly gathered them both close. Katara looked at her with such hopeless eyes that Orora felt her heart break for the young girl.

"Hang on." She said, creating a pillar of water and waterbending all three of them out by way of a waterfall.

————————–

Once his Pupil had disappeared from view, Iroh took a deep breath and submitted. The Dai Li quickly encased him in crystals. He raised his head to see his niece smiling in a triumphant manner.

His eyes met Zuko's before Iroh looked away, ashamed, disappointed, but most of all, saddened.

————————–

It was no easy task, taking both Katara and Aang back to the tea shop. The girl was barely walking, so lost she was at the realization that her other half was dead. Luckily, the waterfall had opened up to a canal close to the tea shop, and Orora had managed to get Sokka's attention from where he kept watch on Appa.

The moment they were on, Orora wasted no time. "Appa! Yip yip" She called. They had to get out as fast as they could.

Once they were in the air, she turned her attention to Katara and Aang. The girl was placing Aang's body against Appa. And though her eyes still held that lost and devastated look, she reached around her neck to pull out a vial.

Bending the water from inside, the young girl pressed the now glowing water against the wound on Aang's back.

She was sitting beside Sokka, anxiously peering over the saddle just like the rest of them. In her heart she prayed. She prayed to every Spirit out there. She prayed to Yue.

She prayed and prayed.

A gentle glow suddenly ignited the night sky and Orora watched as Katara suddenly smiled, tears in her eyes and hugged Aang to her chest.

He was alive.

Aang was alive.

He was alive.

But then, why did she still feel like the world had ended.

————————–

"We've done it, Zuko." Azula stated as she sat on the Earth King's throne. "It's taken a hundred years, but the Fire Nation has conquered Ba Sing Se."

Zuko, still reeling from what had happened, was having a hard time believing everything. "I betrayed Uncle." He said in a low voice.

He betrayed his Soulmate.

Azula stood. "No, he betrayed you." She clarified before continuing. "Zuko, when you return home, Father will welcome you as a war hero."

Zuko shook his head. "But I don't have the Avatar. What if Father doesn't restore my honor?" He asked his sister, feeling those first lick of panic along his skin.

"He doesn't need to, Zuko." She reassured him, placing ah and on his shoulder. "Today, you restored your own honor."

With that she walked away, disappearing into the dark.

His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the entire world was on them. His hand had been clenched in a fist at his side the entire time, but now with Azula gone, he lifted it up.

Opening his fingers he stared at the object within.

A small blue hair comb set with the carving of a dragon.

————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos @violet-potter @rennysketch @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy @punksnotdeadbutiam @ablofftoneverland-blog-blog @slut-for-menn @vyliie

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sflow-er · 9 days ago

Text

Writing tag game

Thank you so much for the tag @starvalisedham!

I'm going to follow your example and put a cut here...

How many works do you have on AO3? Nine. -

What’s your total AO3 word count? 356,524... Sounds like a lot, but the number is skewed by one 238k longfic. -

What fandoms do you write for? Only Young Royals since I started again. I'm not going to name the fandoms for which I wrote before my 14-year hiatus, but most of them were anime. -

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Other people's secrets (1,245) Matters of adjustment (198) The real deal (186) Like you better (161) Last chance (138) I write (mostly ace) fic about background characters in a fandom that leans heavily towards the juggernaut ship, so with that in mind, I'm very proud of these numbers! -

Do you respond to comments? I always respond to comments on my WIPs! Those mainly come from a handful of regulars, and the comment section is a lovely little community for discussing each chapter. I also used to respond to every comment on my finished works, but I've had too much on my plate in the last year or so to keep it up. Lately, I have actually been so low on "spoons" that even a couple of comments from readers who had related to the story in meaningful ways have been left hanging... I don't think I'll ever clear the backlog but I will get to those particular comments eventually! ETA: This game gave me the kick I needed to reply to one of them! Yay! -

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? My August character study/background fic Årnäs, February 2016. It depicts him as an isolated and impressionable twelve-year-old who idolises his manipulative and emotionally abusive father and has difficult feelings about/for his absent mother, and it does not end on a cheerful note. -

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All my finished Walty fics end happily! It was a conscious choice I made when I started writing them as an ace/allo pairing. As to which is the happiest, I guess it's a matter of opinion. Maybe Other people's secrets, as the long time spent with the characters and their struggles adds to the payoff, but you could also argue for the shorter fics which are fluffier throughout. -

Do you get hate on fics? I have received some anon hate here on tumblr for posting the same kinds of takes that I write in my fics, but the response to my actual fics has always been lovely. Some of my regular readers may occasionally question something, but they are always nice about it. We have great discussions! Oh, and I do have one rude public bookmark on OPS. It upset me a bit but I wouldn't necessarily count it as hate. -

Do you write smut? Not at present, no. I did write some before my long hiatus, but back then, I was just emulating what I had read. Somehow, it was easier to take the scenes and the characters' supposed experiences at face value when I had no personal frame of reference. I mean, smut is always exaggerated fantasy, and there are plenty of ace writers who excel at it! But to me personally, as a grey ace who struggled for years with my very bland experience of sexual attraction, anything I write just feels disingenuous and takes me to a really weird head space. I don't want to write a story or scene where I can't buy into the characters' thoughts and emotions at all, and I just can't seem to manage that with smut. Still, a day may come when I feel differently. You never know! -

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Nah, I'm not really creative enough to combine storyverses. -

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of! Although everyone who's got unlocked works on ao3 has probably had their works scraped into the CommonCrawl dataset (and potentially others) used to train AI, and I only started locking mine halfway through 2023 so... -

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. -

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not co-written, I don't think that would work for me as even the thought of a beta reader stresses me out. But I did ask my spouse (who has extremely relevant professional experience) to help me get August and Carl Johan right in ÅFeb16! It was a really great experience. -

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I've got two languishing WIPs on ao3 at the moment, but I fully intend to finish both of those. I also have some unpublished ones: a one-shot of August and Rousseau at Årnäs, and a multi-POV Walty + Stedrika + Madisander fic. I still have some hope of finishing the one-shot someday, but the multi-POV one is probably doomed. -

What are your writing strengths? I've been told my dialogue is good and the more straightforward style I use for it contrasts nicely with my frillier style of prose. Also, people have said they like my characterisations and the way I write (romantic and other) relationships. I'm good at research and worldbuilding, and I like to think the overall quality of my writing is okay when I'm not too stressed. -

What are your writing weaknesses? I'm too wordy and write my teenage characters too mature, but those weaknesses pale in comparison to my problems with compulsive editing, perfectionism, and excessive self-criticism. I get stuck in rewriting loops and easily spiral into writer's block. Oh, and I'm terrible at maintaining a healthy life/writing balance. I neglect my wellbeing and burn myself out when I feel creative, and when real life gets stressful, the quality of my writing declines or I can't write at all. -

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I do not mean to criticise anyone who likes to use it, everyone can do whatever they like in their own stories! But as a professional translator, my work is all about conveying a message written in one language in another language, as fluently as possible. I can't just turn that mindset off for writing. If I write a story about Swedish-speaking characters in English, I'm going to approach it the same way I'd approach the translation of a Swedish story into English. The English dialogue is already understood to be in Swedish, so to me personally, it makes no sense to render random bits of it in Swedish. (Of course, a character suddenly speaking a language other than Swedish is a totally different matter, but I assume the question isn't about that.) Not to mention that languages work differently, from word choice and connotations to grammar and from communicative conventions to thought patterns. My focus is on making the dialogue flow in English, and I'm too much of a perfectionist to mix in phrases or sentences that a native Swedish speaker might not even say in that context. (That goes both ways as I also try my best not to use fully English-based word plays etc., but sometimes they slip by me.) Again, that's just my opinion and the logic I apply to my own fics. Everyone who disagrees with me is just as valid! -

First fandom you wrote for? I wrote a fix-it fic for Final Fantasy X in my English notebook back in seventh grade. Never posted it anywhere, but it still counts! -

Favourite fic you’ve written? Other people's secrets. It was the first fic I wrote after all those years of thinking I'd never write again, and considering how massive a project it was, I'm enormously proud of myself for having finished it. It's one of the best stories I've ever written, and one of the most meaningful (to me personally, and I guess also to some of the people I've heard from). That being said, I am also extremely proud of ÅFeb16, which is my most mature writing so far - and of my outlined version of The Windsor! I've only managed to post one chapter of the latter, but if and when I eventually finish it, I think it will be my third favourite. It's an aged-up retrospective and explores some themes I've actually wanted to write since outlining OPS back in 2021.

Phew, that was the last question! Thanks for reading all this way! <3 No-pressure tags: I feel like most of my writing mutuals have been tagged already, but maybe @silvagrey @sunnyelfs @crownedwille would like to join...?

#young royals #young royals fic #yr fic #tag game #fic writing #writing ask #thanks again for the tag! <3

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ladystormcrow · 4 months ago

Text

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thank you so much for the tag, @les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques, and I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to answer it! I've been in a writing slump for the last few months (for both personal and external reasons), but I've started writing again recently (trying to get back into my old groove of at least 500 words a day), so I feel like I can answer this in good conscience.

How many works do you have on AO3?

Nine at the moment, plus four others on FFN that I still haven't transferred over.

What's your total AO3 word count?

208,006

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Katabasis

Trio Sonata

Mine

I'll Keep You

Imprints In Time

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do try to, though sometimes I fall behind or choke on what to say; I feel bad when I find myself struggling to respond to a long, thoughtful comment with anything better than "thank you, glad you enjoyed!". I realize it's never too late, though, so I'm hopeful I'll be able to catch up on responses in the future!

(The only time I've ever deliberately not responded to comments is when I was aware that the person who sent them was a piece of shit who I didn't want to engage with, but thankfully that's only happened once or twice. Very much a "your approval fills me with shame" moment for me.)

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Imprints In Time. It's a backstory fic for Madame Giry that ends with her estranged from her family and culture, recently widowed, and on the verge of being forced to retire from the ballet career she's worked so hard for, and thus deciding to help Erik make his start as the Opera Ghost (which we the audience know is going to end in more tragedy).

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

It's technically not finished yet (there's still an epilogue chapter to come), but I'd say Katabasis has a quite a happy ending: the dead have been sent to a peaceful rest, the exiled urSkeks have saved their planet and will be able to change their society for the better (and keep other urSkeks from harming Thra in the future), and Jen and Kira have gone from being the last of their kind to the adoptive parents of several dozen Gelfling children who will be a new beginning for their species.

Do you write crossovers?

I'm very much open to doing so, but so far I haven't, mostly because the fandoms I currently write for don't lend themselves well to combining universes. The closest I've come is the Les Miserables reference I included in Chapter 5 of Trio Sonata (or the SWAT Kats/Redwall fic I started but never finished when I was 15, but the less said about that, the better!)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, no. The closest I've come is someone who complained they were disappointed that Agony and Ecstasy featured skekSa as the one topping during sex; I simply added a tag that made that clear and left it at that.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I didn't used to, but I've gotten more confident about both writing it and sharing it publically over the years (my experiences in the Tumblr RP scene helped a lot with that). The first fic I ever posted where sex was explicit rather than implied was Mine, which was a pretty standard wedding night consummation story (well, except for the part where one of the pair is an elderly hermaphroditic bird alien), but after that, I branched out quite a bit with Agony and Ecstasy (I'm pretty vanilla in my own sex life, so writing about characters having a BDSM session with cutting, bloodplay, and other kinks that I'm not personally into while still making it appealing to an audience was an interesting challenge).

Currently, Trio Sonata is my first experience of trying to weave sex into the plot of a longer story, rather than just a standalone smut fic, and I'm really trying to make sure that the smut is in character and serves to move the plot forward and develop the characters (not that I've got anything against smut for smut's sake, it's just not what I want to write for this story).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, though I've helped other writers with brainstorming and suggestions before (and they've helped me in return). I'm open to it, though.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oh man, don't make me choose! I'm pretty flexible when it comes to shipping as long as it's written well, so there are a lot that I like, even multiple ones with the same character. But if I have to narrow it down, I will say that I still love Megamind/Roxanne Ritchi after 14 years since the movie, and I also don't forsee my love for Erik/Christine/Raoul fading any time soon.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I started my own fanficverse for Megamind in 2011 with Life Is What Happens, and got partway through the sequel, The Storm and the Stars, before I stopped writing.

I always had meant to come back to that ficverse, but I now realize that's probably never going to happen, for two reasons. The first is that my own political and social views have changed enough since then that I'd have to completely rewrite parts of the story (for example, one of the main OCs is a former police officer, and I wasn't a believer in ACAB back then). The second is that the Megamind Rules TV series exists now, and both fills in the timeline when my fics took place and includes a number of the same key story elements, so I feel like there isn't really room for my fics in the fandom sandbox anymore (especially since most of my friends are fans of the TV show, and I really am happy that they enjoy it, even if it's not to my taste).

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I'm pretty good at descriptions, especially giving a strong sense of characters and places in just a few lines, and coming up with interesting plots.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not so good at character introspection, especially angst and romance. I worry about bogging down the flow of the story and falling into telling rather than showing, and that it won't be interesting or believable to the audience.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it can be effective if it's just one or two lines, especially if it helps convey character or setting, but it should be used sparingly and only if you're sure of the translation.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I've toyed with the idea of writing an AU for Imprints In Time where Erik doesn't leave France after his fight with Antoinette, and they repair their friendship and eventually become a couple, which changes a lot of events that would otherwise have happened in canon (no Persia, for starters, unless it's under very different circumstances). I've also pondered an alternate OT3 involving Pharoga plus Madame Giry, but that's probably never going past pondering.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

At this point, it's a tie between Katabasis and Trio Sonata. I've mentioned it before, but they have a lot of the same basic story elements (hero and villain have to team up against an outside threat, which leads to them bonding and the villain becoming a better person), and since those are some of my favorite tropes, it's probably inevitable they'd be my favorite fics.

I shall tag: @cornistasiathecoblinking, @chaifootsteps, @locksnek, @musicalhell, and @flagbridge, plus anyone else who'd like to answer!

#crow writes a thing #tag game

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bedlamsbard · 30 days ago

Note

⭐!

Odin's arrival in Better in the Morning 4! (I have been thinking about Morning, it's next up after Home wraps.)

Thor's confusion during the Observatory scene in Thor 1 is really interesting -- he really doesn't seem to realize that there's going to be A Consequence until it's actively happening.

In all his long life, Thor had only ever really been afraid of his father once, and at the time it had happened so quickly that he hadn’t registered it as fear until afterwards, suddenly exiled to Earth with unworthy unworthy unworthy pounding in his ears. He had stood in the Observatory with the slowly-dawning realization that something was about to happen, something bad, and it was his father – his father – who was doing it to him. Even then, he had known it from Loki’s horrified expression first, because even while it was happening Thor hadn’t been able to bring himself to believe that his father would actually hurt him. And then it had been done and he had been in the Bifrost alone – falling for an interminable amount of time that could have been eons before he finally landed.

Until just now, it had been the only time in his life he had ever heard his father’s rage directed at him – a god’s unyielding anger, the kind of fury that burned enemies to ash and consumed worlds. Odin and I drowned entire civilizations in blood and tears, Hela had said back on Asgard, her voice bright with barely contained glee, and while Thor hadn’t disbelieved it then, this was the first time he had known, deep in his bones, that it was true.

Part of the reason that Thor is struggling in Ragnarok is how many of his underlying assumptions about how the universe functions are being undone -- I know in fandom we talk a lot about Thor realizing that he isn't the firstborn etc. but I do think a lot of it is also registering the violence inherent in Asgard's conquest. I've thought a lot about what Asgard's actual status in the Nine is, and when I wrote this -- this was my first MCU fic -- a lot of it hadn't been fully developed yet. One of the things that Thor is parsing in Ragnarok is "dad is not just dad."

“I haven’t even done anything,” Loki protested wearily, making Thor blink and look down at him. “I’ve been too busy being strangled.”

Loki, of course, knows none of this.

“I don’t think he’s talking to you, brother,” Thor said. From where he was sitting, he couldn’t see his father no matter which way he turned; all he had been thinking about was getting Loki away from Hela and his blind side was to the hallway Odin had approached from.

The fact that Odin can't see Thor's or Loki's faces due to the angle they're sitting is very important, but Thor doesn't realize that yet.

“Thor.”

The sheer threat in his father’s voice made Thor want to throw himself down on the floor and beg for a quick death, but neither was in his nature. He fought the compulsion back and got his shoulder under Loki’s to help his brother to his feet as they stood.

Neither was in his nature is a callback to Loki's "satisfaction is not in my nature" from TDW.

“Odin –” Frigga began, her hands outstretched, at the same time Hela said, her voice bright with laughter, “Odin.”

Hela's having a great time. Note that Hela is the only one in this scene who's not in the TVA jumpsuit.

Thor turned, Loki still leaning heavily against him, and had the always disconcerting experience of seeing his father completely taken aback. Odin’s one-eyed gaze moved from Thor’s face to Loki’s and back again, then settled on Thor’s. Loki looked away.

It will not be revealed until Chapter 8 why Odin knows instantly that this Loki and Thor aren't his Loki and Thor. I think I knew at this point that altverse Loki had pretty dramatic facial scarring, but not the specifics.

While the Fury flashback of invader Thor at the end of the previous chapter revealed that there was a universe where something went different and the TVA didn't do a reset, this is when the characters start figuring out that the TVA's definitions of the Sacred Timeline might be very different from the baseline assumption. (Note that this is essentially a Loki 1.01 AU -- it doesn't take into account literally anything else from anything else in the series or Phase 4/5 MCU.)

“You are not my son,” Odin said.

Loki’s head snapped back up. “I already knew that,” he snarled, his voice a harsh rasp. He jerked away from Thor, his face a mask of rage and hurt that was all too familiar.

Odin and Loki both thinking that Odin is saying something very different from what he's actually saying.

All at once Thor was aware of the too-fragile rapprochement between them, the repairs that he and his mother had begun to make – with Hela’s mostly unhelpful contributions – suddenly balanced on a knife’s edge. What had been scarred over in the Loki he had left behind back on the Statesman was still an open wound here; there was no resigned it hurts, doesn’t it? being lied to? There was just the viciousness of a trapped animal ready to gnaw off its own limb in order to escape.

Thor hadn’t seen that in Loki in many years. Not since – well. Not since New York.

Thor was for very understandable reasons extremely angry with Loki in The Avengers and did not really process what was going on with him at the time. And the next time he was dealing with Loki is...not necessarily more chill, but TDW Loki has other issues, and Ragnarok Loki actually is more chill. (From Thor's perspective Loki died and factory reset to mostly normal when he came back.)

“Brother –” he said hastily, reaching for Loki and trying to think of the best words to get through to him, but a hand closed around his wrist even before Loki could do more than flinch back from him.

Both he and Loki turned to stare at their father, though Loki’s expression suggested he was now firmly convinced he was hallucinating.

For a surprisingly long time a lot of readers interpreted Odin not wanting Thor and Loki near each other as altverse Thor having killed altverse Loki, which really surprised me. They're both very much still alive! Though the circumstances of that aren't revealed until Chapter 8, since a lot of what's hanging over the story is how things went so different but also so the same in the altverse.

Odin thrust Thor backwards with so little effort that Thor might have been one of the TVA Minutemen he had been throwing around earlier. “No, Thor,” he said, putting himself between Thor and Loki.

“What?” Thor said, badly confused.

Nobody's yet made the connection that Odin's universe is very different internally from the others' universes because they've all come from timelines that only different for like...thirty seconds to five minutes from the main canon timeline. There's no reason for them to think that Odin's universe has been different for two years -- but on the flip side, the same thing is true for Odin. He doesn't have any reason yet to think that the other four members of the family are coming from universes that have dramatically differed from his for the last four years, just that Loki is unscarred and Thor is messed up in the face.

The last time this Odin saw his Thor was during the court scene just after New York, the flashback at the end of 8, almost a year earlier. He knows that his Loki goes down to the prison to talk to him every day, but Odin refuses. Which means that the last time he saw Thor was getting dragged screaming and furious and scarred out of the throne room, five seconds before Loki collapsed with lightning burns down one side of his face. Altverse Loki, Sif, and the Warriors Three all have very visible scars from fighting Thor in New York, because altverse Thor was a lot more vicious about it than main timeline Loki.

Odin's first assumption about this Loki is probably that it's a Loki who lost it immediately after finding out about the frost giant thing (which isn't. you know. untrue), but obviously main timeline Loki found out about that very differently than altverse Loki did. His best guess about Thor is post-BONY -- his BONY, which was very, very different in the altverse.

#juliana677 #bedlam replies #meme response #morning behind the scenes #family reunion concept

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chemical-processes · 2 months ago

Note

deimos -- you should ramble about chapter 10 for a little bit, i need an annotated version for my mental wellbeing 🙏🙏

Thanks for the ask :3 potential deimos spoilers below the cut

Ch 10 was a struggle and I realized approximately twelve and a half seconds after posting it that, like, strictly speaking there was no reason for it to exist. I had it in my head that pacing wise there needed to be an intercession between Jason's last reveal-heavy chapter and one of the first climactic fight scenes of the story, but now I'm doubting that instinct.

There's nothing technically wrong with ch 10, except that it was supposed to be conjoined with ch 11 and I don't think it functions as well on it's own. Maneuvering Dick & Barbara around the hospital was definitely important for the plot (and likely the only reason Tim isn't dead already, lol) but not necessarily interesting to read about. I don't know if it's just me being picky, but I also slaved over Tim's reunion with the Bats, and Dick's introduction to the series (we will not acknowledge my 30k of deleted scenes) and both of those were knocked off in quick succession in chapter 10, which to my mind did not lend to the gravitas of what those moments were supposed to be. I do appreciate undercutting the expected tension of a plot point with the lack of it, but only in small doses. I think this was fixed for me by the bang-up job I did with Barbara's internal monologue, so I'm not completely displeased by it.

There's a few parts that I really enjoyed writing,

She knows what his parents look like, what it feels like to drag his father’s body through the walls of Drake’s manor. She went into his childhood bedroom and crawled under his bed to see the things he hid in the mattress. The dead roaches, the ants picking over his small food stash. The blood stains on his pillows and blankets.

The contrast between Tim's perspective of his room (and Drake Manor at large) and Barbara's & Jason's. Tim's still afraid of the dark, but he drew comfort from safe places like the bathroom, under his bed, his mother's sitting room. And retrospectively Barbara is reframing that. Not even those safe places were untainted.

I also do ship Barbara/Dick, and that's made very obvious:

Dick steps up behind her. So close he could hook his chin on her shoulder. She stops short, still a good three feet away from his bed, hands limp at her sides.

And:

He’s gotten taller since the last time Barbara saw him, filled out in the shoulders. She can’t help but stare at him as he works over her, deftly swiping his hands across her shins and the joints of her ankles. A trauma sweep.

I really doubt they'll get back together over the course of the Hunted series, but details like these make me happy :)

All in all, while chapter 10 wasn't the worst thing in the world to write, it really paled in comparison to chapter 11. I was somewhat worried that it would take me a while to write ch 11. I think part of what pushed me to get Jason's chapter done with the feeling that, after so long waiting (upwards of nine months right?) updating with a lukewarm, pacing-driven chapter wasn't fair to the people who had been waiting for a step in the direction of where everyone wants to see this go (Jason and Tim finding each other, ofc). Plus I've been dying to write Pamela going berserk on everyone since the very first chapter of Vrykolakas. I really enjoyed the visuals, and the fun thematic little nods I could fit into that fight scene by way of floral & botany motifs :)

Plus it's utterly disgusting. Big fan of gross things.

#vrykolakas #deimos #my fics #long post #Thanks for this ask love #Lots of (unhappy) thoughts about chapter 10 #We try to balance it with the positives :)#like barbara telling Dick she's going to peel off his face like shucking corn~!

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caeli0306 · 9 months ago

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20 questions for writers tag game!

tagged by @widebrimmedhatsblog and @hockeyspiral23

Total number of AO3 works

Nine!

2. Total AO3 word count

287,489

3. Fandoms I've written for

Empyrean and that's literally it lol

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Violet Sorrengail's Guide to Spinning a Scandal, castles crumbling, Tales from the Airport Bathroom, Did Someone Say Shots?, and Did Someone Say Vacation?

5. Do I respond to comments?

Yes! Sometimes it takes me longer to get to them, especially if I get a lot within a short period of time, but I always respond to comments.

6. What has the angstiest ending?

definitely the present, the past, and you in between. That was the first one shot I ever wrote and I still get comments of people being iike "bro why did you do that???"

7. What has the happiest ending?

All of my fics (except for the one mentioned above) have happy endings if they're done, more or less! If I had to choose one, I think it would be VSGTSAS.

8. Have I received hate?

Yes, once, but honestly in my line of work I get so much online hate that I just find it funny. I wrote a very sarcastic response and moved on. One of the reasons I love this fandom is because its super positive and accepting, so why dwell on the single outlier I've come across?

9. Do I write smut? And what kind?

Yes, and as of now just Riorgail

10. Do I write crossovers?

Unless you count the Top Gun AU I've been working on a crossover, then no. I think trying to mix worlds and characters would get too confusing for me, so doing an AU based on another world is about the extent for me.

11. Have I ever had a fic stolen?

As far as I know I have not! Hopefully it stays that way.

12. Have I ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have I ever co written a fic?

I have not! I feel like it would be fun though

14. What is my all time favorite ship?

Riorgail. They are my Roman Empire.

15. A WIP I'll never finish?

So I will always maintain that I will finish everything I start, but if there is any story that I think has a chance of not getting finished, it's Swan Song. I haven't had the inspiration to write it for a while, and my backlog just keeps getting longer. I hope I'll get around to finishing it eventually, but it won't be for a long time.

16. Writing strengths?

I've been told that I write angst well, and that I'm good at writing tension between characters. Personally, I think my ability to research (thank you journalism) and write things as close to realistically as I possibly can is my greatest strength. Not kidding when I say I had a 15 page document of job descriptions for senate office staffers that I got from a friend who works on the Hill back when I was working on VSGTSAS and that bad boy was open the entire time I was writing chapter 4.

17. Writing weaknesses?

I think I struggle to describe movement and action in a way that isn't repetitive, and sometimes my writing sounds a bit robotic (thank you journalism). I also think sometimes my sentences can get a bit convoluted.

18. Do I like foreign language dialogue?

I'm not sure - I don't think I've read any fics with that.

19. First fandom I wrote for?

Empyrean!

20. Favorite fic I've written?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I'm going to include Violet Sorrengail's Guide to Spinning a Scandal and castles crumbling because I love them both and they are both my favorite.

I'm tagging @skyfallscotland, @suebswrites, and @witch-and-her-witcher (unsure if any of you have already been tagged!)

#caeli's adhd thoughts #caeli's fics #fourth wing

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ifishouldvanish · 1 year ago

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(sorry, one more bc it's been on my mind for a long time)

I worry though, about... the dynamic. Can someone really find and bond with another through their grief and loneliness, without this grim depression they share becoming *worse?*

For me, personally, whenever I think about them... I think there's going to be a level of catharsis. They have something that would be very hard to find in another living being, and a certain love for humanity and the past that would be difficult to find among vampires, and this shapes them into shattered pieces which fit together. But would they still be able to find happiness? It kind of feels like they're two damaged clocks that have coincidentally been stuck on the same minute and hour hand. Would they be able to heal and move time forward?

Okay so like!!!!

I see it less about bonding over the shared grief itself and more about what their responses to that grief have exposed in each of them. Like, in the beginning and on the surface level, yes. It is the grief and loss and loneliness that brings them together. But they are foils!!! I'm telling you!!! They can learn from each other!!!

I've mentioned probably all of this before in scattered pieces across all my posts at some point but!! I think the lowest common denominator, the core of their dynamic, lies in how they seem to have established their senses of self.

Alucard struggles with how not to define himself by his father, and then having to define himself in opposition to his father. "Slave to our families' wishes" etc. And when that chapter of his life closes he's like, "welp, guess I'll just entomb myself here 🤷" until Trevor and Sypha are like "what?? Dude no??" And he's like "oh haha I guess you're right, I can uphold the legacy of the best parts of both of my parents!!" And they're like "ya!!" But then a month goes by without anyone coming round to say "hey!!! Share that knowledge with me!! Fulfill the role you've given yourself" and he is just... so fucking bored and unfulfilled?

He needed they-who-shall-not-be-named to come along so he could fill that role, needed Greta to come along so he could fill that role. He tells Greta about how rescuing others sort of fills a void for him/gives him purpose, which is honorable, yes. But like... It's also so sad imo?? This comfort in denying his sense of self? "I don't know what to do with myself, just gimme a shout if the world ever needs saving again"?? Like Alucard, honey, babygirl, sweetheart... you need to learn to live for yourself 🥺

Olrox on the other hand is... not selfish exactly, but he knows what he's about and he refuses compromise himself. You killed the only man I ever loved? Okay, then I'm killing you, and no, I don't care if your nine year old son witnesses it. You want the juicy story of why that boy is terrified of the big bad vampire? Okay, but you will learn about my humanity first so you can sit with your cognitive dissonance about it later. You think I'm just going to throw myself at your feet because you promise us all eternal night? How about you kindly go fuck yourself? You happily stump for Erzsebet because she promised you that she'll create a world that will allow you to relive your glory days? Couldn't be me!

Like obviously we have a much more limited viewpoint for Olrox because we know so much less about him and his past, but this is not a guy who's waiting for someone to give him a purpose. He acts alone, he doesn't play nice with others, he has his own agenda, and is even a little bit of a hedonist: investigating the relationship between the abbot and Erzsebet? Might as well fuck a hot monk while I'm at it. I said eat the rich, but I might as well look good doing it. You hate/fear me cause I killed your mom? Get over it already. You think the opera singing night creature is annoying? Well, I'm familiar enough with opera music to know he's actually reading you all for filth, so I think it's great!

I think at the end of the day, Alucard is a character who defines himself by others, not understanding why he still feels so empty and alone. And Olrox is a character who defines himself by his own terms, but in being caught between both human and vampire worlds has learned to push people away because he thinks he is better off that way. But by the end of the season, his worst fear is realized: I cannot do this alone. I am at the mercy of someone else's help.

But Olrox isn't like anyone else Alucard has rescued before. He's a fellow vampire. He's a fellow immortal. He's going to be around for as long as he is. And maybe, in that time, a little bit of that ego can start to rub off on Alucard. Maybe he can learn to live for himself without apology, without feeling like he has to atone for the sins of his father. Maybe, just maybe, he can learn to exist outside of the role of the mythical savior.

Because Olrox doesn't want one of those—heaven's no. He can take care of himself, thank you very much. But what if he could learn he doesn't always have to? Who better to restore his faith in the world than the guy who has his mother's conviction that all of this mess is worth saving so deeply ingrained in him that it's been the primary source of his identity for centuries?

I'm starting to ramble here so I hope this is coherent, but in conclusion: they would be so restorative for each other and look so hot together and that is why I believe in Alurox supremacy 🙏

#castlevania nocturne #Olrox #Alucard #adrian tepes #Alucard x Olrox #alurox

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hypermoyashi · 5 months ago

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Hi, Allen! 12, 17, 29 for the ao3 wrapped! 💜

Hello, Trai!!! Thank you so much!!! Hope you're doing well!!

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

Ohhh this one is a little bit difficult to say? Specifically for Trigun since that's what almost all of my writing has been for, both Demon AU and the Vashwood Roleswap AU aren't going to be complete before year-end, so that's at least two. I have two more completed but unedited/unposted fics ready to go for Ladies Week so far, with one more I'm currently working on in the drafting stage and four more planned (whether they all get written in time is another story). I'm also planning at least one fic for sapphic week. In terms of other things I've already started and hope to start posting next year, I've also got the Castle in the Sky AU, the timeloop fics/series, more SWAP AU, and the little lumberjack/dryad au one-shot. In terms of things I haven't started and hope to work on next year, the Mecha AU and the Garden of Sinners AU are the two ones I'd really like to work on and start posting!

So, to summarize, the count for things I've started for next year is nine WIPs, and that jumps to sixteen if you count the things I haven't started but hope to finish and post. Hopefully I can do a little more than that, too, given that only gets me a third of the way through my ideas list and I'm sure I'll have more ideas rolling in.

Rest of the answers under the cut!

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

...Very much Vash lol. I also love Wolfwood, Meryl, and Milly a whole lot, but I relate to a lot of Vash's personal struggles and find him cathartic and comforting to write. He's also just a pretty complex character, so it feels like there are always other layers to him to explore via writing.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Oh, this one is hard... I've written so much... Hmmmm, well, Chapter 31 of Demon AU was actually written in 2023, even if it was only posted in 2024... I think part of what makes this hard is that I'm the kind of person that's more enamored with scenarios and characters than specific lines or writing styles, so I don't fuss too much over word choice as long as it's functional to get the mood and whatever else I need conveyed. That being said, maybe it's the recency bias, but (Spoilers for the Vashwood Roleswap AU)--

Maybe he’d lost, but he’d forever deny Knives of the one true thing he wanted—affirmation that what he was doing was right, that he was a righteous protector instead of a ruthless, cruel tyrant. That his actions, born of fear that only served to inflict their pain onto others, were just. Vash loved Knives. Vash loved Rem. Vash loved humanity. So he’d never give up on them. He’d never forget Rem. He’d never betray humanity. And he’d never stop defying Knives, so long as he clung to fear and refused to change. Because… Well, call him naive, but a part of him still thought Knives might change.

I think it just encapsulates my feelings on the relationship between Vash and Knives pretty well. Things are just... Messy, and complex, but no matter what Knives does, Vash is never going to just roll over for him, not anymore. And I love him for that.

But! Thank you so much for the ask, Trai!! I had a ton of fun answering these!

[from this meme!]

#ask meme #markcampbells #trigun #about my writing #spoilers

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kitkatt0430 · 1 year ago

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Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

Thanks for the tag @goldheartedchaoticdisaster :D

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Writing fanfic was something I just started doing because I wanted to have more Voyager stories about Seven of Nine when I was still pretty young. Actually posting up fanfics I'd written? Junior High, I think - so preteens/early teens - when a friend introduced me to the wonderful world of Fanfiction.net; I started reading fic and worked up the courage to actually post my own after a bit.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

51? I think? It's at least that many, anyway.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

I joined FFnet in 2002 so let's just go with 22 years. I did write some stuff before that, but none of it was posted and all of it is lost.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I read more, but I certainly do write a lot. :D

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I've gotten a lot better at world building. But also establishing initial characterizations and making character growth make sense.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Not necessarily weird, but I've looked up information on various degrees and how long they take to complete as well as different types of power of attorney - yes, there is more than one! - and the different ways they apply.

7. What’s your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I like the comments that have reactions to different parts of the fic/chapter and maybe favorite quotes as they read along. Those are the types of comments I like to leave most too.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Lol, does writing a Fringe/Flash crossover fic count? ;)

I've got some pretty rare pairs that I've written for - Reverb/HR and Savitar/Reverb and Savitar/Eobard are probably the most rare thus far but I find I enjoy the challenge of rare pairs that are of the ships that pass in the night variety so I may wind up with more very rare pairs as time goes on.

There's been a few experimental-ish fics I've written, like Spiral which… I'm not really sure how to describe the style for that fic.

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I struggled a lot with the ending to You Must Live (For Me) because it was a bad guys win fic and so I knew from the start I'd be killing off Iris. But it was still difficult to do.

So overall I think fics that kill off main characters in some way? I don't write that often, but even just the aftermath of such a thing can be really difficult to write. Grief is just… hard to write because it hurts so much.

10. What is the easiest type?

Fluffy, silly fics. Things like Buzz Buzz often just flow easily because they're silly and fun.

But often also fics that address things I feel strongly about. Not always - sometimes I get in my own way with those fics - but sometimes that strong emotion will just carry me through writing something until suddenly I have an entire fic. Seeress was definitely one of those where replaying the ending of Final Fantasy 13-2 where the bad guy has basically pulled a 'heads I win, tails you lose' scenario (which the final game rectifies) had me speculating on how some of the foreshadowing in the game indicated there could have been a different ending to things.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

On my computer - though a tablet + keyboard combo will do in a pinch. Rarely on a notebook these days because I can't guarantee I'll find the motivation to transcribe it later, though notebooks are a good place for making story notes instead of fic writing.

I'll typically use LibreOffice because it's easy to use and free. I'll also use Notion, which has a free tier and is good for when I want to be able to work on a fic from my tablet or on a different computer from usual.

For my sins… sometimes I'll write a fic directly into Ao3's editor.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I'm trying to get better at making 'one day' become 'today' when it comes to this sort of thing. I feel like my Flash/Fringe crossover series falls into this because what I want to do for the series is ambitious and so while I don't want to bite off more than I can write (as it were), I don't want to keep putting it off because it makes me worry I won't do it justice. I won't do it anything at all if I don't at least try.

13. What made you choose your username?

My sister picked it out when she helped me make my first email account as a kid and I've been partial to it ever sense. Kitkatt0430 is in many ways as much my name now as my real name. I've used it for FFnet, my short lived attempt at Live Journal, Ao3, Tumblr (though I have Starstruckpurpledragon here too), and a few other places.

@sophiainspace @coldflasher @incorrectcoldflashblog @terrie01 @fezwearingjellybananas & anyone who wants to play :D

#kitkatt0430 answers #writer ask game

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cousinkooksbackup · 2 years ago

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EXCHANGED LOVE. || a bellyjere au fic.

chapter nine

chapter one | previous chapter | book summary

bellys pov

I despised dancing. It had never been my forte, and my feet seemed magnetically attracted to each other in the most inconvenient way possible. But tonight, it was a lifeline, a brief escape from the relentless barrage of questions about my thoughts on America. Conrad and Susannah had thrown me a much-needed lifeline, and I clung to it like a drowning sailor.

Dancing with Conrad felt acceptable, albeit a bit awkward due to my lack of dance floor expertise. Still, it beat the uncomfortable conversations at our table. I couldn't shake the feeling that I stood out like a sore thumb at this gala, with everyone's eyes fixed on me as if I were a stain on their pristine fabric.

When the dance with Conrad ended, my plan was to retreat to our table. However, I hadn't anticipated another guy boldly approaching me, making it difficult to refuse. His buddies grinned like Cheshire cats, so I put on a polite smile and accepted his hand.

"Warning, I'm not much of a dancer," I said softly, offering a small grin, hoping to fill the silence with some conversation. Dancing in silence was just too awkward for my liking. His response was a smirk and a dismissive shake of his head.

"What?" I inquired, my eyebrow raised, struggling to maintain focus on not stepping on his toes.

"Nothing," he mused, shaking his head, but then he continued, "You're the new Fisher exchange student, right?" His eyes, a piercing greenish gray, bore into me, far from warm or inviting. Despite his handsomeness, he gave off an unsettling vibe.

"Yes, Isabel," I replied hesitantly, holding back my nickname. I reserved that for friends, and based on the energy I felt from him, he didn't fit the bill. I just wanted this dance to end, and each passing second felt like an eternity.

"Well, Isabel, I've been dying to find out if foreign girls do it better," he whispered into my ear, his breath laden with alcohol, and his touch felt sharp, like daggers in my back. I swallowed down the rising discomfort, praying for the song to end.

As if my prayers were answered, the song faded away, and without thinking, I stepped away from him without a word, turning on my heels. As he vanished from my sight, the room seemed to close in, and my racing heartbeat replaced the music. Panic welled up inside me; this was the worst time and place for it. I was no longer at the safe Fisher summer house but at a gala, surrounded by their friends and colleagues.

Once outside, I had no idea where to go. I had never been here before, and the sun had set long ago, leaving only moonlight and scattered lampposts in the parking lot. I found a garden and slumped onto the nearest bench, my hand gripping the satiny fabric of my dress. I no longer felt beautiful; instead, I felt exploited, exposed, judged, and overwhelmingly uncomfortable.

I didn't hear Jeremiah at first when he said my name. I was too busy trying to calm my racing heart and focus on my breathing, but none of it was working.

"Isabel?" he called again, louder and more concerned. My head snapped up, and I met the gaze of the curly-haired boy. He was the last person I wanted to see me like this, but there was no hiding now. Pretending I was okay was not an option.

"What do you need?" he hurriedly closed the distance between us, clearly worried by my silence. The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat, just like my ability to breathe. This situation was beyond frustrating; this was the second time, and what if Susannah found out and decided I needed to go back? I didn't want to return; I wasn't ready.

"Just... Can you... I just need you to wrap your arms around me tightly," I managed to say through small sobs. It was much harder than I expected, trying to talk while struggling to breathe. Asking the very guy I'd been avoiding for most of the week to hold me was the opposite of my intentions.

Jeremiah didn't hesitate. "Okay, yeah. Whatever you need. Is this okay?"

His arms enveloped me, pulling me against his chest. My body shook against his, and my face was buried in his chest. I knew I was probably ruining his shirt, but I couldn't stop. I felt so stupid; Max Breeland's comment had triggered all of this. It was just a stupid comment, but it had sent me into a panic attack. Jeremiah's calming presence helped, though. He whispered words of reassurance, and his touch was a lifeline in the storm of my emotions.

Even when I managed to calm down, I made no move to let go. Letting go meant acknowledging what had just happened, and it meant being alone with Jeremiah Fisher, defenseless and vulnerable. I didn't have the energy to keep him at arm's length now, so I allowed myself to sit there in his arms, listening to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Sorry about your shirt," I sniffled finally, sitting up and wiping my eyes. I must have smeared my mascara, ruining all the effort Susannah had put into making me look pretty. I looked at him through wet lashes, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth.

"I don't care about the shirt," he assured me, his bright blue eyes searching my brown ones. I felt exposed, as if he could see right through me, and it made me want to scream.

"Still... Sorry."

I wasn't sure if I was apologizing for staining his shirt or for shutting him out since that first night. Maybe it was both, but I'd let him interpret it as he wished.

We sat in silence for a moment, and I wiped the tears that continued to fall onto my cheeks, willing them to stop

"What did Max say to you?" Jeremiah finally asked, his jaw tensing. He seemed upset, maybe at Max, perhaps at me for causing such a scene, or perhaps it had nothing to do with me at all. He couldn't even look at me, and that hurt more than I expected.

"Bells," he urged on, still avoiding my gaze.

"He just made a stupid comment. It was no big deal," I tried to downplay it, resulting in a scoff from Jeremiah.

"Isabel, it's clearly a big deal if it sent you into a panic attack," he said softly, his blue eyes meeting mine once more.

"It wasn't really about what he said; he just reminded me of something I've been working really hard to forget." I'm not sure what made me be so honest with him. Maybe it was because I was too exhausted after hours of conversations and my panic attack, or maybe it was because I felt safe around Jeremiah.

I remembered that day vividly, the day everything had changed at school. Flyers with my face, X-ed out with bright red marker, plastered throughout the hallways. They were everywhere, each one bearing a different, horrible, untrue lie. But it didn't matter; everyone had seen them, and there was no rewind button in real life.

As I walked to class, people stared, and some whispered, but others shouted out hurtful things across the hallway, earning laughs from their friends.

One kid, a stranger to me, shoved a flyer in my face.

"Is it true you're easy? That's my favorite type."

I'd pushed past him, fighting the urge to vomit. Everyone was staring, and his friends were laughing. When I reached my locker, dozens more flyers fell out, and I cried right there. The torment never really stopped; it just took different forms. Forms that wouldn't get people in as much trouble.

Tears welled up again, and Jeremiah was quick to pull me back into his embrace. He whispered soft words, and his fingers drew comforting patterns on my back. It helped more than he knew. I focused on those patterns, wondering if he was writing a secret code there. I didn't dare ask; my energy was depleted.

"Jeremiah? Isabel? What are you two doing out here? I was looking for you both," Susannah's voice interrupted from across the garden.

"Oh, my poor girl," she cooed, joining us in front of the bench. I didn't want to look up from Jeremiah's chest. I felt safe there; I'd been vulnerable enough tonight, and I didn't need the only other Fisher who knew to break down the walls I'd built.

But I couldn't be rude, so I forced myself to lift my head and offered Susannah a weak smile. Jeremiah made no effort to remove his arms from around me. In fact, it felt like he held on tighter when he sensed me moving away, though perhaps I was imagining things.

"Jeremiah, you can take her home? Right, Angel?" Susannah glanced at the Fisher boy who still held me close. I felt his nod, and he reluctantly let go of me for a moment, standing up while keeping a hand on my shoulder. He gave Susannah a quick hug, whispered something in her ear, and kissed her cheek before telling her that we'd see her back at the house.

His attention was back on me quickly, offering his hand to help me up to my feet. I despised these heels; my feet ached, and the thought of walking around the building to reach the valet was daunting. So I kicked off my shoes, holding them by the straps now.

"Bells, you can't walk here barefoot; what if you step on glass?" he said, concern in his eyes.

"Well, then I step on glass, but I'm sure I'll be—"

Before I could finish my sentence, he scooped me up into his arms. He smiled at his mom, who watched us with a smile I hadn't seen until now. I wasn't sure what this smile meant, but I was relieved she wasn't angry with me.

Too tired to protest being carried and too emotionally drained to argue, I surrendered to Jeremiah's arms, letting him carry me to his Jeep. I could muster the strength to rebuild my walls tomorrow.

previous chapter | next chapter

#belly conklin #bellyjere #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #jeremiahandbelly #if you like this so far and see this pls like or smth so i know i should keep it going!#el09

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satancopilotsmytardis · 2 years ago

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7, 9, and 17!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

I like just being able to make something entirely with words! Whole worlds, histories, feelings! Just made out of strings of letters. I have always been a person who like making things, so writing is a wonderful way of doing so for me.

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

I believe that the energy of living things must be changed in some fundamental way when it leaves the body and I believe that people may not fully understand that process. (I have no fucking clue but sometimes places do be 'spooky' in strange imperceptible ways and I'm open to the possibility that ghosts are the cause.)

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I have. NINE current WIPS. Thankfully I can group up a good number of them.

I have a bunch of installments in the Mishap series that I'm working on which while looking like nothing more than PWPs, are actually a fun way of exploring emotional intimacy as much as physical intimacy because one of my favorite things to do is discuss the idea of BDSM as a way of exploring vulnerabilities that it might be uncomfortable or frightening to do in other settings.

There's also Bonded, which I am really struggling with. I started writing the series just because I was having fun playing with a lot of silly ideas, but Shattered is much more serious in tone and while I usually love that, and I have a full outline of Shattered as well as outlines for the next two installments as well, I just haven't found the joy in it that I did in the beginning. I really like how chapter 6 wraps up, and it's been torture trying to move on to chapter 7. I don't know when I'll get over that hump, but it's been 3 months and I still haven't managed it yet.

Tumblr prompts, going well enough. Taking this as an opportunity to just write fast(ish) snippets. I often really want to linger and show how relationships develop thoroughly because (and especially with ShigaDabiHawks) I need a believable progression to show how those character could have possibly ended up together when they're at odds with each other's goals. However, for these I'm just going ham and that's a nice little change of pace.

Stalling out on the original piece (shigadabi with the serial numbers filed off because I wanted to use an original fantasy setting I've used for other OC work). Having trouble balancing how to progress the plot without losing the spark between the two characters after a... disagreement.

The Hanahaki piece is my fucking baby right now. Feeling as good about this one as I did about Honeytrap and Grey Area. It's so achingly tender and I love it to absolute bits. I have one area that I'm still trying to make a decision on and thought that the tumblr prompts would be a good way to step back and give it some breathing room after banging out 27k for it in two days. I'm very excited about this one.

And last but not least, the Time Travel fic! I'm enjoying this one too but I'm thinking about it logistically right now and trying to decide if I'm going to make it a multi-chapter or not. I usually don't like to do that because I write very differently for a multi-chap than I do for a one-shot and I much prefer the style of writing for an insanely long one-shot than a multi-chap (yes this may be why Shattered is fucking me up so badly, also why I really hated Playing Favorites by the end), but I'm not sure if it would be too jarring to go from Hawks' POV to Dabi's after minimum of 12K in Hawks' POV, but I need some scenes to be from Dabi's so eeehhhh. I'll figure it out. I like this one, alternate timelines are always fun to play around with and the butterfly effect here is so fucking strong.

I think I'm going to be finishing the Tumblr prompts before going back to the Hanahaki fic, but we'll see! And this is all dependent on me not starting any more pieces in the meantime. Which. Oof.

Thanks for asking!

#tanco speaks #ask #asks #writer ask game

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theamateurhimself · 11 days ago

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Be Sure It's True - Chapter 1

Foreword: This is a work of historical fiction that I've been working on and off for since 2019. The beginning of the story is set in 1936, and is a semi-accurate depiction of those times. I've been fascinated with history since as long as I can remember, and I've always wanted a romance story like Casablanca or any of those film noir pictures of that time featuring a same-sex couple. Here is my meager attempt at such. CW: Homophobia, Violence, Blood

The shop was quiet now, aside from the polishing rag squeaking its way down the soda shop’s counter. James Mallard, the kid behind the squeaking, had been working tirelessly to keep the counter at a near mirror finish between dozens of high schoolers, mothers picking prescriptions up, and the occasional shipyard worker fresh off shift to get a cool milkshake. The air moved slowly, driven by the lazily spinning ceiling fans.

It was his job not only to cashier and hand out medicine to customers, but also to keep the shelves in line, and to prevent the brand new Wurlitzer jukebox from playing the same record over and over again, as it was liable to do. Instead of the jukebox, however, Mr. Jenkins, the owner, allowed James to have a little Zenith tombstone radio on the shelf down behind the counter. Today, it was tuned to 570, the local CBS affiliate station. The only condition was that if someone put a nickel in the jukebox, the radio had to go off. But, as of now, the tinny sounds of Joe Reichman’s Orchestra filled the empty store.

James stopped scrubbing and stood triumphantly, looking over the pristine shop. It was a work of art, especially since the shop had been overrun with customers coming in at the last minute for pomade and makeup. However, the homecoming dance was only about 45 minutes from now, and the onslaught calmed down. James removed his little white soda jerk’s hat, and wiped the same cloth he used to polish the counter across his moist brow. His light brown hair was curly beyond belief, and did not always agree with his hats, especially when between haircuts.

James was lucky to get this job from Mr. Jenkins, as he replaced the recently outbound cashier over the summer as he had gone off to college. College was still a very distant thought in James’ head, since it was just over four years away from being a reality. Besides, this job paid handsomely for being just a freshman, at just under a dollar an hour.

Mr. Jenkins could afford it, luckily. He was a veteran of the Great War, and the deep wrinkles across his face betrayed the fact that he was a mere 42 years old. From the stories he sometimes told, James could only assume that he faced some of the worst that the Hun threw at the Allies over there in France. After the war, he was able to save enough cash to buy the struggling pharmacy. Jenkins even marched with the Bonus Marchers on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., before his emphysema really caught up with him.

His reminiscing quickly faded as the front door bells rang and a group of three couples traipsed through the pharmacy’s double doors. All of them were dressed to the nines, with well-fitted tuxedos for the gentlemen and glamorous, but not gaudy dresses for the ladies. Each man clutched their date’s arm, while the ladies clasped handbags that matched their spangled gowns. At the head of the pack was Art and his girl, Leona.

Arthur Haviland was the captain of the South Kitsap High School football team and was someone that you would make sure that you would get on his good side. He could get away with almost anything at the High School, on the accounts that his arm was one of the best things that ever happened to the football program since its inception. It certainly helped that his father was the captain of one of those huge dreadnaughts docked at the shipyard. Those factors combined to create a coddled, overpowered brat who roamed the halls of the High School with a cadre of underlings willing to bully anyone he deemed fit for torture.

Upon entering the shop the trio of couples went their separate directions. The first couple, Beau DeLisle and Margaret Branagan, made a beeline for the Jukebox on the right side of the store, parked next to the end of the counter. “The Silencer,” as they called him for his ability to silence opposing crowds with his impressive runs, did not live up to his nickname off the field. The pair took a seat at one of the small tables and began to chat up a storm. James saw this with a sigh, reached down and turned off his little radio. Luckily, Beau and Margaret had decent taste in music. The needle dropped, and the opening to “It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie” crackled through the cloth speaker grille.

The second couple was led by Ruth Stevenson, who dragged Peter Laurence by the wrist to the cosmetics section. Peter was a very quiet kid for someone who ran with Art and could easily beat anyone in the school in the 100-yard dash, he could not outrun the incomparable, though conceited Ruth. A little birdie told James that Peter was Ruth’s fourth boyfriend since she became an upper-classman. While she sifted through the loads of different lipstick and mascara, Peter had a look on his face as though someone had laced his tonic water with barbiturates. Every so often, Ruth would put two lipsticks or blushes in front of his face, and he would choose, with a disinterested finger, the cosmetic he thought looked the most different.

But the first couple, the one that James despised the most, walked straight up to the counter.

“Well, well, well,” Arthur said in a very condescending tone. “If it ain’t James, the goody two-shoes sophomore I’ve heard so little about.” He leaned one elbow on the mirror-polished counter, while he wiped his other hand down it. The Trans-Atlantic accent was thick and clear in the words of the overgrown Navy brat. After all, his dad was a big whig in the Navy, and secured a nice cushy job in the Naval Shipyard across the inlet, and Arthur boasts that it was his dad that brought the big green crane to the Shipyard.

James huffed, and asked, “What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a chocolate milkshake and,” he turned to his girlfriend. Even in the harsh light of the pharmacy, she looked like a doppelganger of Fay Wray, down even to the wavy texture of her immaculate hair.

“Nothing for me, James,�� Leona said, in a tone that suggested an apology for the actions of her date. Leona, though she always ran with the jocks and bullies, still was courteous in her demeanor, something that not even going steady with Arthur could do.

“You can handle that, can’t you? Oh, and be sure to make the damn thing thicker this time.” Arthur asked with that patronizing tone, before turning back towards Leona. “I am a growing boy, after all!”

James turned to begin work on the shake, powering up the mixer on the back counter. The bell rang from the front door, signaling another customer. James did not see who it was, because he was bent over the ice cream cooler, scooping out of the large ice chest. All he could see was a cleanly kept crew cut of dark brown hair floating down one of the aisles, before the head of hair ducked down behind a shelf of borax and turpentine.

James then took those scoops and dumped them into the tin cup before jamming it under the mixer. The machine rattled loudly. There must have been a screw or two missing on the chrome nameplate that was strapped across the mixer’s head. Arthur began loudly and annoyingly flirting with Leona, loud enough to be heard over the racket of the mixer. Between quick glances, James thought that whatever he was saying to her, it must have been rather flattering, as even through the rouge on her cheeks, he could see her blush. It wasn’t before long that Arthur noticed these side glaces, and redirected his attention back to James.

“So, why are you stuck at this joint on a night like this, James? It is homecoming after all.” Art teased, sounding like James Cagney. He could almost hear Arthur say ‘You could go for an eighty year-old chick with rheumatism!” Suddenly, his tone changed to something between the previous teasing and sincerity.

“You know, you could’ve had a girl like Lea here,” then he knocked himself on his head in faux realization.

“Oh, no you couldn’t, ‘cause you’re not the captain of the football team, and you ain’t packin’ a pair a dese puppies.” He clapped his right hand on his left arm, which he flexed to prove his point. The neatly tailored tuxedo sleeve bowed outward in a rather grotesque shoe of strength.

James watched the display in front of him in side glances between checking on the shake. He flipped the machine off, and took the tin cup and the agitator, the former to put into a glass milkshake cup, and the latter to put in the sink.

“Come on! Come on! I’ven’t all afternoon, James. We can’t be late to the dance on account of you,” Art pressed, even though the milkshake was mere seconds from being finished. James sprayed the whipped cream on top, with the cherry to finish it off, and turned to serve the impatient meathead.

However, the radio, down low on the bottom shelf, had a different idea. The cloth-covered power cord, usually tightly tucked behind the shelf and taut to the outlet below, was loose due to a monthly cleaning that Jenkins had him carry out, and had wrapped itself around the front of James’ shoe. Down came the radio off the shelf, as well as James, who tripped and fell into the counter. His hands, along with their contents, flew forward towards the couple, and James’ face plummeted directly into the countertop.

Just as he picked his head off the counter, he could see the milkshake all down the front of Art and his tailored tuxedo, like someone is splashed with mud from a passing car on the side of the road. From the top of Art’s neatly pomaded hair to the cumberbun wrapped tightly around his waist, the football star was covered in thick iced cream. It almost looked deliberate, and perhaps, in the split second that the whole motion took, it was, as Stacy only seemed to have a few specks of it splashed onto her from her beau. The chatter had stopped from the other two couples and the familiar stranger, who now turned and looked at the sticky situation before their eyes. Only the voice of Ms. Etting could be heard, reverberating through the shop.

Like a cartoon character, Art wiped the shake from his face and shook it off of his hand. The chocolate ice cream had begun to soak into the shiny silk lapels and dripped from the faux pink carnation tucked in his buttonhole. He then turned his livid eyes towards the culprit, who stared slack jawed at the varsity athlete. James was caught in the snare of a look that sliced through steel.

In an instant, Art’s hands flew up to James’ lapels, snatching them tight and pulling them hard up and closer, yanking the frightened James into the counter. The tin milkshake cup slipped from James’ hand and clattered to the ground, punctuating the sound of the music echoing through the store like a neon sign on the side of a desolate highway. Dots of bright crimson blood began to form on his white work coat, dribbling from the bloodied nose that was smashed onto the counter. The needle on the record drifted into the playout groove before lifting and turning itself off with a click. The store was now dead silent, making the blood rushing in James’ ears all the more deafening

“You sonuvabitch just couldn’t see anotha’ guy have a good time, could ya?” Art sneered, spittle flying out of his mouth, punctuating his diatribe with a stiff jerk to the lapels that brought James off of his feet each time. “You lousy, no-good, pansy bastard!”

For a moment that only lasted an instant but which felt like minutes were slowly ticking by, James was nearly pulled nose-to-nose with the angry behemoth. The wide chestnut-colored eyes of Art’s seemed to inspect every nook, every cranny of James’ visage, both physical and emotional. It was as if an entire crowd of people suddenly stopped their daily lives to simply watch you, inspect you.

The squeaking of a swinging door ended the torturous scene for James, as the behemoth looked to see its source. “You better get outta here, you punk!” Jenkins shouted, shaking his cane in futility while rounding the corner of the counter, limited by his lame leg and, eventually, the emphysema. By this time the other two couples had dropped what they were doing and walked up to the counter and tried to quietly convince Art to drop him. However, they were hushed as the mysterious man from before approached Art. He stood behind him and cleared his throat.

“Drop him,” he said in the same tone a hunter would speak to their dog in. Art turned a little, still clutching the lapels of James’ coat and pulling him even further over the counter.

“Who the hell do you think you are? This little poof’s guardian angel? I’m so touched.” Art said sarcastically, turning back to the task at hand.

“I said drop him!” he repeated, this time louder and more stern.

“Alright,” said Art, “you win. I’ll drop the little bastard.” He did just that, and James nearly fell fully over the counter before pulling himself back over it. But he remained where he stood when the whole incident started, bolted to the floor, not only in fear for himself, but fear for this stranger. He had seen in the past what one punch from the chowder-fed footballer was able to do to someone, and it was not pretty in the slightest.

Art turned around, his hands up either side of his face, like he was a gangster getting busted by Elliot Ness. He even had the smug look on his face, like he was just playing along, knowing he would face no consequences for any of this. The stranger remained unphased, his cool blue eyes staring lances directly into Art’s chocolate-stained. Art even seemed taken aback. Nobody in a long while had been this defiant towards him.

“Whaddya itching for a fight?” Art shouted, then chuckled, “‘cause I’ll give ya a fight!”

Art quickly reeled backwards, twisting his body clockwise as he clenched his right hand into a fist. Just as quickly as he reeled back, he sent it flying towards the stranger’s jaw. James had already seen this scene before. A couple of kids at school got this treatment before, and one of them spent a week and a half with his jaw wired shut because of it.

But this was different. The stranger reacted just as quickly as Art in launching that punch. Dropping his left foot back, he ducked out of the way of the incoming fist, spinning his left arm around to catch it in a motion reminiscent of waving goodbye. Art’s fist flew past the stranger’s forearm, but was stopped short of connecting with his body. His left hand snatched Art’s wrist, his fingers white with effort, and he pulled the surprised bully towards him. At the same time, the stranger had sent his own express package hurling towards the now open-mouthed Art.

James was sure that the dull thwack that sounded when the fist connected with the bridge of Art’s nose was louder than it actually was. Art was knocked back into the counter, his head flicking backwards as he did. Then, he dropped to the floor like a duffle bag of wet laundry, landing on his backside against the counter, blood dripping onto his white ribbed tuxedo shirt from the freshly broken nose.

Immediately, Stacy and the other two couples rushed over to Art, trying to talk to him in his dazed state. They all noticeably kept giving the stranger sideways glances, both out of anger for their felled leader, but also out of fear that he would come for them next. The stranger, however, seemed to not pay the group any mind, simply turning away from them and making for the exit.

“Uh, thank ye kindly, stranger!” Jenkins piped up over the hushed chittering of the footballers and their girls. The stranger made a backwards, half-hearted wave, all without turning back, and exited the store, turning to the right and towards the waterfront. It was by this point that Art was lifted back onto his feet by a combined effort of all five of his party members, and was ushered quickly out of the store.

The entire time, James remained still. His nose had just begun to clot up, finished with ruining his white work shirt. Tears that had been forming in the corners of his eyes slowly began to run their way down his cheeks, dropping with his jerky breathing erratically onto the ruined shirt. Jenkins approached him, and James finally tore his eyes away from the doors, and focused on the old man.

“James,” he said softly, “are you alright?”

Snapped back into the moment, James attempted to compose himself. He stole a glance of the clock on the wall.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he said, his voice still quivering, “only got another hour anyhow!” He tried to sound cheerful as he dipped his rag into the bucket of water and began to sloppily clean up the mess. Distracted by his mind, he made the mess much worse, spreading around the chocolate and ice cream slurry and dripping it onto the floor.

“I can clean this up, James,” Jenkins offered, proffering his hand for the rag. James looked into the old man’s face. Through the dark wrinkles and creases of his face and past the thick coke-bottle lenses, the weathered face offered a sympathy matched only by his grandmother. James sighed, looked down, and dropped the wet rag into his hand.

“Go take the rest of the night off, wash up, get some fresh air. I won’t dock your pay.” he said..

“But…” James whimpered, his still bloody nose forcing him to breath through his mouth.

“That’s an order, James. I’ve got this.”

Slowly, James untied his apron and balled it up in his hands, making his way to the back of the store. A little water and a bar of Ivory soap seemed to do the trick for his face, and he looked presentable. At least, presentable enough so that his mother wouldn’t ask him any questions about it. He took off his work hat and uniform, hanging the former neatly on the peg near the door to the storefront and tossing the latter into the wastebasket. Grabbing his overcoat and wool cap, he made his way towards the alley door.

On the way out, he passed the mirror mounted to the wall above the sink, the same one he washed his face not three minutes ago. He could not bear to look himself in the eyes while washing. However, now he stopped and looked at himself, looked through himself, beyond the mask he wore, the mask that was cracked hard tonight. There he was, just like he always was, just like he was this morning. The same hair, the same teeth, the same ears. The only difference was the blood on his face and the look in his eyes. He felt like he looked different. Was it obvious, he thought. Could everybody tell?

He could feel the tears welling back up, and he tried to hold them back until he escaped to the alley behind the shop. The cool late afternoon air greeted the wetness on his cheeks. Checking both ways down the slowly darkening alley, he saw nobody to violate his privacy. Nobody to hurt him again.

After moving an ashtray, James sat down on the milkcrate left there by Mr. Jenkins for his smoke breaks and he let everything out. The tears streamed down his face, with some dripping onto his handkerchief and the rest falling to the dusty pavement below. His crying and sniffling prevented him from hearing the footsteps approach him from behind. James heard the shoes click against the ground too late.

“Hey there” the voice called, a voice that James recognized as the stranger, a voice that sounded confident, but soothing. Not too nasally, not too precise, just naturally, tenor speech. It was comforting “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” James said softly after regaining enough composure to speak properly, “Th-thanks for getting that… that…” he stammered, “asshole out of there.” By this point the man had walked in front of him and pulled one of the other milk crates over.

“Not a problem. Really pisses me off to see guys, ‘specially meatheads like that, bully nice, well-meaning people” he said, opening up the pack of bubble gum he concealed within his pocket, “I only came in for a damned pop, ya know, not a fight.”

James looked up towards the stranger, then quickly turned back away. The thought that this guy, a stranger, had to stand up for a yellow-bellied coward like himself was too much for James, and he broke down again, leaning forward, elbows crossed on his knees.

The sobs hung in the still evening air. The passing rumble of a truck sputtered in the distance. The stranger lingered still, quietly chewing his bubble gum. “So, James - it’s James, right?” the stranger asked, his voice cutting through the silence in the alley.. James nodded his head erratically, and the stranger continued, placing a hand on James’ shoulder.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” James asked, breaking down a little bit, “You didn’t have to go and break Art’s nose like that, it’s just gonna cause more problems down the line.”

“I don’t think he’s going to be messing with you again any time soon,” the stranger said, doing his best to try and calm James down.

“Why? Because I’m the little coward who had to let some stranger protect him?” James angrily retorted, “I should be able to protect myself.” He turned away, facing his back to the stranger.

“Doug,” he said.

“What?” James asked, confused as to who the hell Doug was.

“Doug,” he repeated. “My name is Doug.”

James raised his head up from his arms and twisted back around in his seat to see the handsome stranger, like a bad cliche from one of those Zane Grey novels his dad liked to read, looking at him with a big cheesy smile, his hand outstretched and waiting for a handshake.

Chuckling at the absurdity of the whole interaction, James took the handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you, Doug,” James said, a little lilt to his words, his mouth curling up into the smallest of smiles.

“How do you do, James,” Doug responded, chuckling at the end of his line. They both laughed.

#Be Sure It's True #original story #story writing #original fiction #gay love #romance #historical romance

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