#if true I’m probably going to spend my free time on myself resting

[alienssstufff]

Do you plan on joining in on ArtFight this year?

hmmmmmm….. probably not 😔

I’m always even busier around winter (well summer break) I wish they had art fight twice a year yknow for the poor Southern Hemisphere folks who have to work

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[naneun-no]

Hi! So... Am I the only one who thinks Jikook haven't been living under the same roof for quite a while now? I feel like some people, esp Jikookers, don't even want to see it as a possibility, but if we don't want to start acting like a cult we need to start developing some critical thinking (which I think is healthy and needs to be done) Also, I've seen a lot of people say "JK is having a hard time, imagine not spending every second with your partner like you used to bc of his crazy schedule" and tbh, I was thinking just like that at first, but now? Jimin is busy, yes of course, but he clearly has time to hang out with Hobi or even going to visit Jin (which was so nice to see btw, not complaining) I honestly don't think JK and Jimin are hanging out much, actually, I dont even think they see each other often, since JK seems to be living his best introverted life and quite isolated from the rest of the boys (except Tae, which Im kind of glad, at least he is getting out of the house and having a good time) Maybe we should start considering the possibility of them just not sharing time bc they simply chose to and not bc Jimin is busy with his album. I now what they chose to share with us is just a small part of their lives, and there could be a million other possible scenarios, Im not saying Im right or wrong, just what's been on my mind lately. Im not coming here as an insecure Jikooker to seek for aproval, or with bad intentions, Im just sharing my thoughts and genuinely curious to know if anyone else thinks on a similar way. Thank you for taking the time to read💜

Hey! I appreciate the kind way you phrased all of this. In short, if you’ve ever read anything I’ve posted you know what I’m gonna say next: maybe that’s true and feel free to think that 🤷‍♀️

I still don’t get why the idea that they’ve chosen not to spend any time together (which we have no evidence of except for a lack of evidence the other way) is more compelling than the idea that they do in fact spend plenty of time together and just don’t share it (which we also have no evidence of except for the way they treat each other when we do see them). Both have a dearth of evidence, except one seems out of character.

Does that make sense? Like it’s perfectly possible they don’t hang. But also, they were like magnets on all the final Run BTS episodes. Not just magnets but affectionate, touchy, best-friend-or-more type magnets. But also, Jung Kook asked Jimin to come over during a recent live, while being all giggly and cheesy and excited to see him. It didn’t seem like a “it’s been so long, I’m saying this just out of an awkward sense of duty,” to me — it seemed like something that probably happens often. Jimin said something to the effect of “I’ll come after work” or something close, right? (He said many other things too but that was the only one that correlated directly to hanging out other than the one where he expressed desire to tie back JK’s hair which could be innocuous or could be something he does when they hang out, who knows?). But also, JK told his boxing instructor that JM would come soon, but also JM talked to that same instructor like he knew him well, and likely has gone with JK to lessons in the past. But also, it really hasn’t been that long since JK’s weirdly sexual/teasing birthday video for Jimin and now several members have had birthdays pass and nobody else got that treatment. But also… the list goes on, I’m sure there’s more but my coffee’s getting cold.

So, I can’t speak for all Jikookers because we are in fact not a cult, so there aren’t established patterns of belief that we all must adhere to. You think maybe they’ve stopped hanging out cause they haven’t shared it with you. Cool. Many others, myself included, think it’s unlikely that you would abruptly stop hanging out with someone who clearly means so much to you while still continuing to treat said person in a loving, flirty, domestic manner. They don’t act like exes, not even a little bit, so we have no reason to think they are. I think it seems much more in character for them to be preserving the final shreds of privacy they have to protect the relationship that means more to them than the other ones; or at least means something different.

Idk, but if you actually believed them to be dating at any point, or even just as close of friends as they appear, regardless of dating, think of how that would look if they suddenly stopped speaking.

Remember when Tae and JK did kinda stop hanging out? Remember how it was kind of obvious through their interactions that they weren’t as close, and then they full on addressed it in that conversation and talked about how they needed to put more effort into their friendship (which kudos to them, like you said, seems like they are). If anything, Jimin and JK’s relationship over the years has seemed even more close and symbiotic than almost any other friendship in the group except maybe vmin. So I would think if that was crumbling away, we’d see a lot more in their interactions than giggly, sweet, heart eyes and “eat well my baby” comments.

Feel free to disagree!

[roman-cup]

The butterfly effect (Wrightworth)

this is a old fic I posted on ao3 awhile ago and I realized I don't think I ever posted it here

Summary:

Its late at night, and as Miles and Phoenix lay down to go to bed, they end up discussing an important topic

What would they lives have been like is Miles father had not died?

Link to where it's posted on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47882047

Fic under cut

It was 10pm at night, and Phoenix was finishing getting ready for bed. He had just taken his shower, then he brushed his teeth for the night, all before walking into his bedroom. He hummed as moved to sit on his bed and then he turned to look over at Miles, who was currently laying still, hands clasped over his chest, staring up at the ceiling.

Phoenix frowned, concerned. “Miles?” He pulled his legs over the bed and he moved to sit next to him. “You ok? You are glaring at our ceiling.”

Miles blinked and looked over at Phoenix. His expression softened but still looked bothered. “Wright, I was,,,just thinking.”

“About?” Phoenix said, moving now to lay down next to him. Once he was laying down he moved slightly to place his head on Mile’s shoulder. Which Miles casually accepted.

Edgeworth went quiet. Phoenix frowned “You don’t have to tell me if it bothers you-”

“No no…” Miles hummed quietly “Its…I- its fine” he mumbled “I was just,,, I was thinking, about my father.”

“Miles..” Phoenix frowned, he reached a hand over to grab on to one of Edgeworth’s. Miles looked down at their hands, he held Phoenix's hand back and squeezed it.

“Its alright-” Miles moved his head to look Phoenix in the eyes, to try to reassure him. “It's just- more specifically, I have been thinking about what would have happened if he- was still alive.”

Phoenix nodded slowly. He can’t imagine how stressful everything Miles went through with his dad was. Of course the ‘what if’ idea would be in his head. Back in college, Phoenix had similar thoughts after the whole Dahlia thing. Like, y know, what if she hadn’t framed him for murder.

Phoenix knew those weren't the same experiences. An 8 month long relationship vs Mile spending 15 years of his life thinking he had killed his father. But still, Phoenix thought he could kind of relate.

“What do you think would have happened? You know,if he was alive.” Phenix asked tentatively. He didn’t want to pry but if Miles wanted to tell him, he would listen.

“I- don’t really know. Despite my best efforts, all my daydreams end with us leaving the elevator and going back home.” Miles frowned and looked away from Phoenix. Squeezing his hand again. “I can’t even bring myself to imagine what would have happened afterwards.”

Phoenix rubbed circles with his thumb on Mile’s hand. “Well,,,you would have probably stayed in school with us,” he commented.

Miles though, then nodded “you’re right. There would have been no reason for me to leave in that situation.”

“Maybe we would have grown up together.”

“Maybe?” Miles asked, a small laugh escaping his lips. “For some reason I can’t imagine you letting me get away from you long enough for that to just be a ‘maybe’, Wright.”

“Oh come onnn” Phoenix laughed. “I mean, who wouldn’t change their major to law in order to meet their old friend in court. Happens all the time.”

“Yes I’m sure thats true.” Miles smiled. Phoenix smiled back

“You know- seriously though- I’ve said it before, but, I don’t regret it.” Phoenix moved slightly to somehow cuddle closer to Miles, “I’d do it again, in a heartbeat.”

Miles looked back at him, he stared forward at him. He closed his mouth then opened it again, then closed it again. He cleared his throat. “Yes well-” Miles took his free hand which was just resting in his chest and ran a hand though Phoenix's hair. “Uh-,,,thank you.” he mumbled.

Phoenix hummed content with the contact. He looked up at the ceiling. “You know though, if you stayed in school, I probably wouldn't even have become a defense attorney.”

Miles thought for a moment. Before he quietly added. “Right, but I might have been.”

“I would have got my art degree.” Phoenix continued. “And you would be a defense attorney, what a pair.” Phoenix laughed a bit.

“That's what I think Ms. Fey would call ‘a power couple’.” Miled hummed. He was getting tired. Phoenix could tell with how his head was drooping. Phoenix smiled at the mention of Maya. Her and Miles have been hanging out more, they meet up weekly to watch the steel samurai. Which is good. Since Phoenix does not want to watch the steel samurai. It seems she is even having an influence on him. Still, one thing Miles had said stood out to him, he couldn't help but ask about it.

“You think we would still be together in this case?”

Miles paused, before he looked back down at phoenix. He still had a hand running through his hair, though a bit slowly since he was dozing off. “Why, I do not see why we wouldn’t? If anything I figured it would happen sooner- why do you not think so?” he frowned.

Phoenix just shrugged. “I mean- I dunno. I’d like to think we would be” He laughed “But I mean, geez thinking about it, Maya was the one who even convinced me to tell you how I feel, and I wouldn’t have met her if all this had happened.” Phoenix didn’t want to show it, because this was supposed to be a fun idea of ‘if Miles dad lived’ but the thought upset him greatly, never meeting Maya. She was one of his best friends, truly. He wouldn't want to imagine a world where they never met.

He should tell her that one day.

Miles stared blankly at him, like he could not comprehend the connection between his dad living and Phenix meeting Maya. Phoenix decided to fill in the gaps.

“I met Maya through Mia, and I would probably never have met Mia in this situation.”

“I don’t know.” Miles started “I know she is your mentor, but you still met her through a court case, if the same were to happen here too, I can imagine you and her having an unprofessional friendship of an attorney and her client. ”

Phoenix ignored the casual insult of the unprofessional comment. Mainly because he couldn't tell if it was aimed at him or Mia. Instead he spoke and said “Nu-uh. Wont have been on trial without Dahlia.” Phoenix leaned up to look Miles into the eyes before he grinned. “Why would I have been in a relationship with Dahlia when I had you~” he joked as he sang. It was deflection. He knew that, and he knew Miles knew that, he just hoped Miles was nice enough not to bring it up.

Miles frowned looking at Phoenix. “Wright…”

“Look I- just don’t want to talk about the Dahlia thing, y know?” Phoenix frowned. Miles wordlessly nodded, gesturing for Phoenix to lay back down. When he did, Miles went back to running his hand through his hair.

Phoenix felt selfish about it, in a way. Here Miles was getting better about opening up and discussing his father, and Phoenix still won’t talk about his thing, but he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about how he was technically the reason Dahlia got away with poisoning that first time. Plus the whole Iris situation…he just, didn't want to think about it.

Plus, that wasn’t the point of this.

“Besides, Miles.” Phoenix started “ part of the reason Mia ever became an attorney was because of her mom. No Dl-6, no Misty Fey getting slandered as a fraud. Maybe Mia would have just stayed in her village.”

Phoenix remembered being told that Mia may have also left because she didn't want to fight Maya for the title of Master. But he wasn’t going to bring it. He wasn’t Mia. He had no way of knowing what she would have done if her mom stayed.

Miles made a noise in his throat at the mention of Misty. Phoenix figured he could understand why. Miles eventually just mumbled “So you would not have met either of them then, Mia, or Maya.”

Phoenix nodded “Yeah,,,probably not.” he frowned. He worried he was making Miles feel guilty about this. He opened his mouth to say something but then Miles spoke.

“I probably would not have met Franziska.”

Phoenix paused before he hummed a bit “Yeah, probably not, although if you were a defense attorney you may have faced her in court. Y‘Know, More than once.”

“You know that's not what I mean.” Miles sighed, he looked back up at the ceiling. Phoenix looked up as well. They would both silent for a moment before Miles spoke again “I don’t think I would like that. Not knowing her.”

Phoenix nodded wordlessly, understanding how Miles felt.

“Though it would be less painful.” Miles chuckled.

Phoenix thought about Frankziska’s whip then shuttered, before nodding again “Definitely.”

“So, where does that bring us?”

“Hm?”

“We were discussing if my father had lived, what would have happened, what have we established?”

Phoenix thought. “Well. You would have stayed in school,we probably would have continued to grow up with each other.” Phoenix started.

Miles continued where Pheonix left off “You would not have had to deal with being accused of murder, however, you would not have met any of the Feys.”

“But Mia and Maya would have had their mother, but you wouldn’t have met Franziska.” Phoenix nodded along.

“She would have probably continued to learn under her father.” Miles grumbled. Phoenix nodded.

“It is fascinating,” Miles started “How different things would be, if not for one terrible event.”

Phoenix nodded once again “It is really weird to think about, the butterfly effect really hurts my brain.”Phoenix laughed a bit, before getting somber “How do you feel though? Sorry, we were talking about your father and I made it kinda sad.”

Mile shook his head. “No no, I don’t think you caused anything, its just the natural progression of conversation.” Phoenix turned his head to look back at Miles, Miles looked at Phoenix as well before continuing “Weirdly, I feel,,,fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, it is odd. Really. I would never say I am happy about what happened to my father, but..I don’t know.” Miles closed his mouth before opening it again. “I guess this just helped, a bit.”

Miles moved slightly, and he learned to give Pheonix a kiss on his forehead. “I do wish I could have my father back, but I also, am quite happy with how things are right now.”

Phoenix smiled slightly, he hummed in response. He willed himself to stay awake for Miles, but his eyes were getting heavy, though he would tell Miles would be close to falling asleep as well. “Yeah,” Phoenix hummed. “I am happy with how things are too.”

[niallerspayno]

We’ll Be Alright - Chapter Eight

Masterlist

Your POV

Five minutes later Harry’s words become true as my dressing room is flooded. One woman batters makeup over my face while another starts to arrange my hair into loose waves.

Once they’re done, another person comes over with a rack of clothing. She flits through it, her eyes looking between me and the pieces until she plucks out a gown.

It’s a silver sequinned mini dress, “Perfect for an up-and-coming pop star!” She exclaims, she pairs it with white heels.

I’m finally given time alone to change and mentally prepare. I stare at myself in the mirror, brushing down my skirt. My insecurities come in waves as I look over the parts of my body I’ve hated but tried so hard to love.

The way the dress hugs my body, it makes me want to throw up. There’s thousands of people out there and they’re going to see me like this! They’re going to hear me sing, and I’m going to mess up. I decide a need a quick walk to clear my head. I walk out the door not looking where I’m going and immediately bump in to someone.

“Sorry.” My voice is a whisper.

“Y/n, are you okay?” There’s a hand on my shoulder and I look up to find Liam’s kind eyes on mine.

I swallow and nod, “Just need to clear my head.”

“I know going for a walk seems like a good idea, but trust me it’s not. You’ll get stopped by an assistant, security or a fan in a heartbeat. You’re better off in your dressing room where you can have a moment alone.” He advices, rubbing my shoulder gently.

“Okay.”

“I can come sit with you, if you’d like? Until you have your go on stage.” He smiles.

I nod again, “I’d like that.” I lead him back into my dressing room and close the door.

We sit on the small couch against the back wall together. His arm comes around my shoulders and I rest my head on his shoulder. We settle into a comfortable silence for a moment. I fiddle with the hem of my dress trying to pull it down a little more.

“I forgot to say before, you look absolutely beautiful, Y/n. Wow.” Liam exclaims.

I look up at him, “Really? I don’t feel beautiful.” I admit.

Liam uses his free hand to reach out and cup my cheek, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, with or without that dress on.”

My face heats up slightly, our faces close together, “I know you’ve probably had hundreds of thousands or people say it. But you’re beautiful too.”

His thumb rubs over my cheekbone, “It means more coming from you than anyone else in the world though.”

We’re so close that I can feel his breath mingling with mine, electricity crackling in the air. All the nerves in my body tingle, alive with energy.

“Liam, kiss me.” I say, not giving myself a second to think about it.

At first he’s hesitant. He leans forward and his lips brush softly against mine, barely a whisper. It’s enough to still send shivers down my spine. And then he presses his lips more firmly, coaxing me into the kiss. I melt.

I move my hands around the nape of his neck, needing to feel him closer to me. He in turn snakes one hand into my hair while the other gently presses to my hip.

Kissing Liam is like sipping a warm cup of tea on a rainy day while burrowed in blankets. It’s comforting and warm and it’s a feeling that no one but him could replicate. He feels like home.

I feel him smile against my lips as we finally pull away, our foreheads pressed together.

“Wow.” Is all he can say.

I chuckle, “Wow, is right.”

“I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I first saw you.” He presses another soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I'm too giddy to say anything so I bask in the moment. I move my hands up to his hair, feeling the soft, warm strands between my fingertips. His breath hitches slightly, and the hand at my waist tightens.

"God, you're perfect." He gasps, he finally pulls back, "Though I'd love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night kissing you. We have a concert to put on."

"Unfortunately you're right." I sigh.

He strokes a soothing hand up and down my arm, "Do you feel a bit better now?”

“Definitely, thank you.” I smile, but then I begin to overthink it, “But I hope you know I didn’t kiss you to make myself feel better, I did it because I wanted to. Though it also made me feel better, but-”

My breath catches as Liam cuts me off by pressing another soft kiss to my lips. It’s short and sweet, but it calms my racing mind. I forget was I was going to say next.

“I know.” He says as he pulls away, “But even if you had kissed me just to make yourself feel better, I wouldn’t have minded.” He gives me a cheeky wink.

I don’t get the chance to respond because there’s a knock at the door, me and Liam move apart as an assistant bursts through the door.

“Hey, Y/n. You’re on in ten, are you okay if we get your earpiece and mic all set up?”

I give her a smile, “Of course.”

Liam gives my shoulder a squeeze as he goes to leave, “I’ll leave you to prepare. You’re going to be great, Y/n.”

He leaves the assistant to fit my earpieces and mic. Once it’s all ready my guitar is placed in my hands and I’m positioned at a set of large doors that lead onto the stadium. A few seconds later I feel Niall’s presence at my side.

“You ready, superstar?” Niall grins at me.

I smile back, “Ready.”

He reaches out and takes my hand, “They’re going to love you.” At that moment the door opens and we step onto the stage, Niall raises our hands “Hello Columbia!” The roars of the crowd are deafening, “I’m so happy to present our opening act, Y/n Y/l/n!”

Niall and I let go of each other and I wave at the crowd, “Hello Columbia! I feel so honoured to be here. Is everyone excited?” The crowd screams in answer, “Amazing! I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed one of the boys for this first song.” I give them a wink.

Niall and I position ourselves to sit at the end of the stage again, our knees touching. I look out at the crowd, taking a deep breath. And that’s when I see them, Liam, Louis, Harry and Zayn are hidden off to the side but they’re eagerly watching. Liam blows me a kiss.

Niall and I look at each other and I give him the nod to let him know I’m ready. We begin to play the familiar melody and the crowd settles. I keep my eyes on Niall the whole time and the world disappears. I feel at ease as we sing together, as if there’s not nearly 35,000 people at my feet. As the song concludes the crowds goes wild.

“I’m going to leave you guys with Y/n for now!” Niall waves at the crowd, “Look after her for me, I’ll be back soon!” He gives me a wink as he leaves.

I look out at the crowd, “Are you guys ready for another song?”

They scream back at me as I begin to play Let Her Go by Passenger. I feel much more at ease in front of the crowd now, they seem to hang on to my every word. I follow up with Some Nights by Fun before finishing up my performance.

I stand up and wave at the crowd, “Thank you so much for having me, Bogotá! I know there’s five boys eager to get out here, so I hope you all have an amazing night!” I blow them an air kiss then exit the stage, leaving them all cheering.

As I get off stage I’m immediately engulfed in a hug, “That was amazing!” Niall squeezes me.

“Can’t- breathe-” I joke, he lets go, grinning at me.

Then I feel Liam’s arms come around me from behind, “I don’t know how we’ll follow that up, sweetheart.”

“Thanks guys!”

“Liam, Niall, stage door now!” Paul instructs.

Liam lets me go as the two join their bandmates at the doors.

“You’re going to kill it, boys!” I encourage the five of them as they step out onto the stage.

I sneak around to the side of the stage so I can watch them. The crowd is deafening as they step out to greet them with a performance of Midnight Memories. I spend the whole concert in that position, in awe of the five of them. This is truly a night I’ll never forget.

Next chapter

…

Author’s note: Liam’s funeral is soon❤️‍🩹 Be kind to yourselves, grief has no time limit. I hope my fic can bring comfort in even a small way.

[great-tusk]

🆘: How do you let (S/I) know that they’re on your mind when you’re someplace crowded? (for Blue!)

(@i-put-the-s4p-in-s4pphic and @zomboyfren.)

“Thank you so much for the asks!!! I’m so excited to talk about my boyfriend! And thank you, Hunter! Me and Quentin are so perfect together.” -Dawn

“Feel free to shoot me an ask anytime. I like these ask games. I love talking about Quentin (and a ton of other things, too).” -Blue

🆘: How do you let (S/I) know that they’re on your mind when you’re someplace crowded?

“I like to keep my hand practically glued to Quentin’s when we’re out. If it’s not that, my arm’s around his waist. So he’s always reminded I’m there, and he’s always on at least a piece of my mind, no matter what we’re up to. But if I feel like he needs an extra little reminder, I’ll squeeze his hand or give him a kiss or pet his head until he rests it on my shoulder. If we can’t be physically touching, I’ll look at him until he looks back, and I’ll blow him a kiss when he does.”

“I love holding Quentin’s hand, too. I keep him close to me. And I like to nuzzle my head into his neck. If I have something to say, I’ll whisper right into his ear, and I’ll make sure to tell him super nice things.”

🧸: What does your bed look like? Is it just you and (S/I)? Are there stuffed animals? How many blankets and pillows do you have? Do you prefer the bed to be hot or cold?

“Well, Quentin loves plushies. So about half of our bed is taken up by them. Luckily we have a king, so we both still (barely) fit. He needs three pillows, and about 10 blankets. I only use like two pillows, but we share the blankets. It helps, since he keeps the room freezing cold to stay cool under the blankets. I like to keep warm, and he likes to be cold, but he doesn’t mind if he heats up while we’re cuddling.”

“My bed has a bunch of stuffed animals, and so does his! When he comes and visits me, he always pets mine. I have a few thick blankets and a couple of pillows, but he has a TON of blankets and three pillows! His bed is so super cozy when I stay over and sleep in it.”

👾: What are your favorite things to do with (S/I)? Who’s better at them?

“Training! Battling! I’ve put a lot of time into it, and I’d like to say I’m better, even if there’s a possibility that it’s not QUITE true. I also enjoy the time that we spend at home. He’s definitely better at sleeping. I don’t wake up super early or anything, but Quentin probably spends more time asleep than awake. He’s a super heavy sleeper, too, and he needs his rest, so I don’t even try to wake him anymore. But it’s basically together, since I’ll sit in the room and do something quietly while I watch him. His chest rises and falls so rhythmically under all of the blankets.”

“When there’s a duos contest, he likes to join me. Otherwise, we compete separately. I have a hard time ranking us, since I’m maybe a little biased due to liking him a lot AHAHA. He looks stunning up on that stage, and he always chooses moves that compliment his Pokémon perfectly.

“We like to go shopping together, but that’s not exactly a competitive activity. I probably enjoy it more, though. I think that he mostly just joins because I like it and he likes me.”

🎃: Are you or (S/I) artsy at all? Do you ever hand-make things for each other?

“He sometimes puts himself down when it comes to art, and I pout at him about it. He’s super talented, and I treasure everything he’s ever made me. When he makes me cool digital art, I pull it up on my phone to show anyone who’ll look. It’s my phone background. (My Lock Screen is a cute picture of me giving him a kiss while we share a scarf on a cold fall day. His cheeks are so rosy because of the cold and the closeness between us.) He’s also an amazing author! Sometimes he just writes about memories with me. Like what he thought and how he felt in little moments. My heart practically melts. He’s literally the cutest person ever!

“I never really thought of myself as an artistic person before Quentin. I kinda put myself in a box, but he’s had me try a bunch of things with him, and I’ve grown attached to some. My favorite is probably making pottery. I’m really good at it, too! I’ve given Quentin a nice vase that I hand-built and glazed myself, and he keeps flowers that I give him in it.”

“Does baking count? I love making poffins! I even make them for his Pokémon, too. And not to brag, but I totally perfected a recipe for ones that his Haxorus adores. Other than that, I like to draw sometimes, when I make time. It’s super relaxing, and I give Quentin some of the ones that I’m most proud of. He draws for me, too, sometimes, and I love it! He keeps a lot of creative things private, so it feels super special, too.”

🌾: Name five of your favorite things about (S/I). (Feel free to be as descriptive as you want!)

“His eyes! They practically sparkle in the sunlight, and my favorite color is always whatever I see when we make eye contact.

“His lips! He hates them because they’re rough and chapped, but there’s nobody I’d rather kiss.

“His perseverance! He tries and tries and tries and never stops. We’re both super determined and somewhat stubborn, and I like it a lot about him.

“His talents! He’s amazing at battling and contests and singing and art and just everything!”

“And for the fifth thing, his kindness! He’s so nice to me, but he’s nice to everyone else, too! Unless someone’s really mean, he’s always so good to everyone. I like it a lot about him.”

💐: If you saw this thing in the store, you would instantly buy it for (S/I)! What is the thing?

“Anything dragon related! Quentin’s a fan of every dragon! He has a cute little Bagon figure that I got him, and he keeps it on his dresser. His Mega Salamence likes it, too.”

[bronte-deserves-better]

Candor

Pspsps Bronte and Tiergan fans, new fic about them-

Title: Candor

Wordcount: 5219

Summary:

noun: candor

the free expression of one's true feelings and opinions

-

“It-“ under Bronte’s icy stare, Tiergan finds his usual lies slip away. “Fine, it’s not fine. What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing in particular. I just wanted your honesty.”

Tiergan considers snapping at him and finds that he has no energy left to do so. He sighs. “It should be better now that Sophie’s better, shouldn’t it?”

“I regret to inform you that that is not how elven minds work.”

-

Or, Bronte and Tiergan talk in the aftermath of Sophie's shattering and subsequent healing.

(Sequel to Ancillary)

Warnings: death mention, mentions of injury, referenced deadnaming, discussion of homophobia and transphobia

-

It's a Tuesday.

It’s a Tuesday, and Tiergan should probably be grading assignments or talking to the rest of the Collective about their next move against the Neverseen or any of the infinitely many other things he has to do, but all he can think is that he should be at Foxfire, in one of the cramped rooms they use for telepathy sessions, two prodigies sat in front of him.

No one wants to make Sophie go back to Foxfire after the events of last week. And no one can muster the energy to argue with Sophie’s friends, who are insistent on spending as much time with her as possible. So Fitz and Sophie are both home this morning, and Tiergan, for all that he’s always hated working for the Council, finds himself lost without the obligation of mentorship. 

His imparter dings, and he scrambles to grab it, expecting to see Prentice or Wylie’s name.

Instead, displayed on the screen is

Councillor Bronte:

Do you want to go to lunch today? I find myself (against my better judgement) almost missing your tendency to snark at me. Besides, I think we should discuss some of what happened last week.

Lunch with Bronte would normally sound horrible in all ways. Today, it’s a blessed distraction.

Tiergan Alenefar:

Where and when?

Councillor Bronte:

12:00 in Eternalia, Arty’s Café (24 Favriel Way, in the historic district). It’s a nice place. Run by a friend of Oralie’s from a while back.

Tiergan Alenefar:

I can’t believe I’m saying yes to this.

Councillor Bronte:

Trust me, I can hardly believe I’m asking this.

Tiergan sets his imparter down and debates if it’s acceptable to go to lunch with a Councillor in his pajamas. Probably not, though, as Livvy would say, it would be funny.

Ultimately, he does pick out a decently nice (but comfortable) tunic and even manages to pull his hair back before he sets out. Though he’s never been to this particular café before, the historic area of Eternalia is the part he feels most comfortable navigating, at least. Not that that’s a high bar. Tiergan generally avoids crowds and loud places to the best of his ability, which consequently means he doesn’t spend a lot of time in any of the elven cities. Combine that with a below-average sense of direction, and you get the incredible ability to get lost approximately thirty seconds after leaping just about anywhere.

It's fine. He has time before he has to meet Bronte, and wandering Eternalia is better than sitting at Solreef and trying not to remember how the vacant expression in Sophie’s eyes was a perfect mirror of Prentice’s.

He should feel better. By all rights, he should be okay now. He got Prentice back. He got Sophie back, against all odds, against all that they had known to be possible. But once the initial relief faded, he just felt…. empty. Tired. Exhausted, even. There’s so much still to be done, so many battles to be fought and wars to be won. It all feels like too much.

He knows he’s been avoiding people. There are three unanswered hails on his imparter from Livvy, and he counts himself lucky she hasn’t run out of patience and showed up at his door yet. Wylie hasn’t found the time to yell at him over the events of last week yet, and for that too, he’s grateful. Prentice, as well, has been a victim of Tiergan’s unwillingness to interact with people; though he made such sweet promises and held Tiergan so softly in those fragile moments after the healing, there’s still a part of Tiergan that screams at him to run and hide from the raw vulnerability of Cognatedom. He’s almost ashamed to find himself still afraid after all these years.

It's something a lot like shame as well that he can’t bring himself to talk to the people who love him yet is happy to meet with a grouchy Councillor who he absolutely detests. Maybe it’s the freedom of knowing that he doesn’t have to measure his words carefully around Bronte- he can be raw and cruel and honest, and Bronte will still come back the next week to be bitter and blunt and honest right back.

Tiergan slows to a stop, realizing that, lost in thought, he walked straight past the café he’s supposed to be meeting Bronte at.

By the time he winds his way back, Bronte is already standing by the entrance. It’s strange to see him so dressed down in a simple dark grey tunic and cloak, clasped with a silver pin. No circlet, no glimmering jewels. Just Bronte, as unbreakable and unyielding as steel.

The knot in Tiergan’s chest loosens a bit.

“You’re late,” Bronte says dryly.

“I got lost.”

“Of course you did.”

“Asshole,” Tiergan huffs, because he can, because he’s not afraid of Bronte, much as neither of them likes the other.  

Bronte snorts, very undignified for a supposedly perfect Councillor. “Rude.”

“As if you’ve ever known me to be anything but rude to you.”

“True that. Let’s go in, shall we?”

“Sounds good to me.”

The door makes a gentle clinking noise when Bronte pushes it open. Inside, though he’s never been before, the interior appears intimately familiar. Cozy armchairs and booths, the scent of fresh mallowmelt, and elves with balefire jewelry glinting from their ears and wrists, phoenixes shining from around their necks, long hair and beards, short hair and dresses.

Oh. The sense of safety creeps in slowly at first, then all at once, and Tiergan lets out a long breath. “You would take me here, of all places.”

“It can be nice to be among others who are alike us.”

He can’t argue with that. “I didn’t know this place existed.” “There’s not a lot in Eternalia, but there’s this, and a few ballrooms. You get to know the scene well when you live in a city for a few thousand years.”

“I wasn’t aware Councillors were supposed to sneak around so,” Tiergan says, raising an eyebrow.

“And I wasn’t aware that Foxfire mentors were supposed to join rebellions or pine for their best friends,” Bronte snipes back. “Yet here we are.”

The words stir emotions Tiergan has been trying very hard to forget about, the ache that steals his breath when Prentice’s hands brush his. “Careful, Bronte.”

“Would you ask me to pull my punches with you now, after all that?”

“As if you and I have ever pulled punches with each other.” His own words echo in his mind. He was right, he knows, but…he’s tired. “Fine, you’re right. I’d be a hypocrite to ask for your kindness.”

Bronte halts abruptly and turns to him. “Are you alright?”

“What?” “I could have sworn I just heard the words ‘you’re right’ pass your lips.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Bronte doesn’t quite grin, but the edges of his lips curl up with undeniable smug amusement.

The person in front of them in line gives them a very odd look but is just as soon distracted by ordering their pastries.

Then, it’s their turn. Bronte orders mallowmelt and strong coffee for himself, and then glances back at Tiergan. “You want anything?”

“I-“ deciding sounds like far too much energy. “I’m fine.”

“Three strawberry ripplefluffs and some mint tea,” Bronte tells the employee, who grins at him.

“Coming right up!” She punches in the order, grinning. “How are you doing?”

“Well enough, all things considered. Yourself?”

“Oh, same old, same old, you know how it is. Who’s this, by the way?” She gestures at Tiergan with her free hand.

“A-“ Bronte looks at Tiergan, who shrugs back at him. “A coworker of mine from Foxfire. His name is Tiergan. Tiergan, this is Zelda. She and her husband are old friends of Oralie’s.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Zelda chirps brightly.  “I hope this old grouch has been nice to you.”

“Well- he’s been grouchy,” Tiergan settles for, not really sure how to reply.

Zelda laughs. “As always!” She takes Bronte’s birth fund cube and swipes it, handing it back to him. “You two are good to go sit down. I’ll have El bring out your order in just a moment.”

“Thank you, Zelda.”

“No problem. Next!”

They go find a seat in a warm, cozy corner. Tiergan sinks gratefully into the softness of the chair, marveling at how this odd little café is just the right kind of quiet and dim. There’s a faint hum of background chatter, but the abundance of fabric is enough to absorb some of the noise, and the gauzy curtains filter the light into soft shades of purple, pink, and blue. Across from him, Bronte is lit in a gentle rose, softening out his harsh features and making his dark hair gleam like copper.

For once, Tiergan finds himself without anything to say.

“So. How has your life been going? Better than mine, I hope,” Bronte says dryly.

“It’s been…fine.”

“That makes me think it has not been fine.”

“It-“ under Bronte’s icy stare, Tiergan finds his usual lies slip away. “Fine, it’s not fine. What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing in particular. I just wanted your honesty.”

Tiergan considers snapping at him and finds that he has no energy left to do so. He sighs. “It should be better now that Sophie’s better, shouldn’t it?”

“I regret to inform you that that is not how elven minds work.”

“I know.” He knows better than anyone. Nightmares of Cyrah’s death and Prentice’s shattering still haunt him, even to this day.

Bronte sighs as well. “I have to admit that I find myself not unaffected by it as well. Even with all the millennia I have seen, there are some things that are impossible to forget.”

“Such as?”

“Seeing your brother’s mind broken, how a burn from Everblaze feels, the sting of an ogre’s rusted blade, your prodigy collapsed and vacant-eyed.”

Tiergan shudders. He’s never going to get that image out of his mind either.

“You-“ Bronte starts, and then looks away.

“What?”

“There were… several minutes between you losing your connection with me and Prentice’s arrival.”

Oh. Was that…worry in Bronte’s voice? “I was unaware.”

“You were essentially dead to the world, I’m not surprised. But yes, there were several minutes where you were not responsive, and I was unable to act effectively.”

“You did help,” Tiergan tells him. “Your inflicting was part of why I was able to hold on as long as I did.” It rankles his pride to have been so reliant on Bronte, but not nearly as much as it would have before.

A glimmer of surprise flickers through those icy eyes. “Were it anyone else saying that, I would be confident it was a reassuring lie.”

“But you believe me?” “I don’t believe you of all people would ever lie to spare my feelings.”

A small laugh spills from Tiergan’s lips before he’s hardly aware of it. “True, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly.” Bronte’s lips quirk in a wry smile. “I suppose I should have known that I was capable of positive inflicting when even you believed I was. I just assumed you were in denial about the reality of our situation.”

He doesn’t like to admit this, but- “I was, to some degree. I was right, in the end. But I had no real reason to believe you could, only that you had to be able to or all was lost.”

“Desperation is a powerful motivator.” “It is.” He has to swallow the sudden lump in his throat, recalling those horrible, desperate hours when he thought Sophie was gone forever. The grief, the rage, the dreadful, agonizing guilt. She was gone, and it wasn’t fair, and he should have protected her.

Tiergan knows better than most the fragility of the elven mind and consequently, the danger of allowing yourself to dwell on the past. Yet some days it seems like looking backward is all he can do. Ever since Prentice’s mind break, the future has seemed too daunting, too terrifying and exhausting, to even consider. Even now, even with Prentice back, there’s the Neverseen to fight and a cognate bond he’s been avoiding and a thousand worries about Sophie, her friends, Wylie, Tam, Linh, Leto, Prentice- the list goes on. It’s easier to look at the past, whether with yearning or regret, than confront how the lingering fear that all he’s gained is only temporary has carved itself into his very bones. Will he ever be able to look at Prentice without fearing he’ll break apart before his eyes? Will he ever not see Cyrah in the curve of Wylie’s jaw and the quirk of his brow? Will he ever look at Sophie without seeing a mirror of his own, younger self and how he saw no way to go on, no happiness in his future? He could drown in those aches, those fears, hearing Wylie’s pacing on sleepless nights and Sophie struggling in the throes of the same despair that once took him.

He only realizes that he’s been staring at the worn wood table for far too long when a cheerful elf with a wide, easy smile comes to give them their drinks and sweets. “Mallowmelt and strong coffee for you, Bronte?”

“As ever.”

The elf beams and sets the plates down before levitating two more around to set in front of Tiergan with a flick of their wrist. “And mint tea and strawberry ripplefluffs for you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No problem. I hope you two are having a good time.” They pair that with a slight wink.

Bronte sighs. “It’s not like that, El.”

“Ah, sorry for the assumption.” El cracks another easy grin. He reminds Tiergan a little bit of Prentice before the mind break, all warmth and smile lines.

“Easy mistake to make.”

“Do you make a habit of taking guys you’re flirting with here?” Tiergan has to ask.

“Not in particular.”

El laughs. “This café just generally sees a lot of that sort of thing.”

“Indeed, and not the least from myself and my friends over the years,” Bronte says dryly.

“True that. You’re our best customer,” El jokes.

“Please, that title absolutely goes to Albert.”

“Oh, true that. Speaking of which, I need to get goin’. It’s busy today.”

“We won’t keep you any longer, then,” Bronte agrees.

El beams once more before turning to take another table’s dirty dishes.

Meanwhile, Tiergan blinks at Bronte, baffled by how comfortable he seems around this near-stranger, particularly when it comes to secrets so large and life-ruining as what they are.

“El is one of us,” Bronte explains, seemingly anticipating his questions. “I’ve known him for many years.”

“You’re very open here.”

“I am.” He pauses to take a sip of his coffee, setting the cup down again with a gentle clink. “Em- someone I know once asked me how I could stand knowing that there were so many people who knew what I am. I gave him the same explanation I’ll give you: there are numerous things that I am forced to hide, and numerous elves who would depict me as things I am not. I have played this part for too many years to deny myself the opportunity to be seen for even a small part of who I truly am.”

“Does it not scare you to be seen?” It scares Tiergan. He never wanted Bronte to know the truth of him, shies away from even Prentice’s kind gaze.

“Of course it does. I simply find that when one grows accustomed to perpetually playing the part of a perfect Councillor, being seen more truly becomes more a relief than a burden. I suppose that’s part of what Oralie and I see in each other: someone who can look past all our facades.”

Tiergan watches Bronte’s slim hand curl around the cup and tries to breathe. “You think it’s worth it, then?”

“I like to think so. Though I’ll admit that it can be…difficult.”

“It can be.”

“It’s easy to grow so accustomed to hiding parts of yourself in order to survive that secrecy begins to feel like safety. It is, I suppose, for elves like you and me.”

It’s like Bronte’s struck him, head reeling with the unpleasant feeling of his longest-buried griefs being brought to light. “It is,” he manages to rasp.

“It is,” Bronte agrees. “Yet I find that it can be a hindrance as well. The fear of that secrecy being overturned follows us even in places of safety; it prevents us from finding one another.”

Tiergan can’t breathe. His heart is stripped bare, fears and pains laid out under Bronte’s discerning gaze. “You’re not an expert on my fears.”

“No, I wouldn’t imagine I am.” He says nothing more than that, allowing the quiet chatter and clink of dishes to fill the silence instead.

Tiergan takes a sip of his tea. It’s still warm, sharp and fresh and minty. The band around his chest loosens a little.

“I knew someone who would swear by mint tea as a cure for any emotion, you know.” Bronte’s tone is strangely melancholy, eyes focused somewhere behind Tiergan’s head.

“Oh?”

“Anxiety over school? Mint tea. Angry at your brother? Mint tea. Heartache? Mint tea.”

Tiergan manages to smile. “Did it work?”

“Unfairly often.”

“Is that why you bought it for me?”

“It was the first thing that came to mind.”

He sips at his tea again and decides that whoever this person of Bronte’s was, they were at least a little bit right. It doesn’t quite wash away the fears that are carved into him or the ache that’s nestled in his chest, but it soothes the sharp edges a little bit.

Across from him, Bronte takes a bite of mallowmelt. Tiergan is struck by how similar and yet how different this feels to their time at Foxfire; instead of the uncomfortable chairs and gleaming light of the mentor’s cafeteria, there’s the soft glow of blue through the drapes and plush fabric on his seat, but the core of it remains unchanged. Him and Bronte, Bronte and him. Forever opposite one another, even as, on some fundamental level, they’re a little bit the same.

Which reminds him-

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, actually.”

“Do tell.”

“The one day at Foxfire that I snapped at you and told you that you were worse than a monster. You didn’t sit with me that Thursday, but the next week you came back. Why?” It’s a bold question, but here, in the little café where Bronte is so open, almost unguarded, seems like the right time for bold questions.

“I didn’t lie to you, if that’s what you’re asking. That Thursday I did genuinely have a Council meeting that ran over into lunch. As for why I came back… I will repeat what I told you before. I have hidden for too long to deny myself the opportunity to be seen truly.” He sighs, setting down his fork. “You have to understand that I have been spoken of as a monster for longer than you have been living, Tiergan. From the moment I manifested as an inflictor, those whispers have followed me, and I am ashamed to say that I’ve proven them right, at times. Though I am not proud of it, there comes a point when even you start to believe yourself a monster, incapable of being anything else. You saw through that. Though you have ample reason to hate me, you still saw me for an elf capable of good or evil as opposed to the monster I’ve so often been said to be. That is worth more than you can imagine.”

“Even if that meant I hated you more because I knew you could have acted differently?”

“Even then. Your hatred matters less than the truth of your perception.”

“That cannot be a healthy way to handle that,” Tiergan informs him.

“I’m well aware.”

For once, Tiergan doesn’t understand. He’s grown used to seeing a mirror of his own pain, not just in Sophie but in Bronte as well. Twin reflections of the trauma of a life lived in forced secrecy. This, though, is something completely different. “I don’t understand you sometimes.”

“I would be concerned if you always understood me, honestly.”

 “I understand how you can be open about some things. That’s the point of signaling. What I don’t get is-“ the words stick in his throat.

“Is?” Bronte prompts.

Tiergan lets out a breath. “It doesn’t scare you to have someone look at you and see the truth- not just a piece, but all of it?”

Bronte’s eyes are, in that moment, unimaginably ancient. “You ask that as if anyone has ever looked at me and seen the entire truth.”

“Has no one?”

“Oralie comes close, some days. Fintan was closer.”

Another breath. He can taste mint at the back of his mouth. “I shouldn’t be afraid of him. He loves me.”

Bronte is silent.

“Secrecy has always meant survival for me. For us. How do I unlearn that?”

“In my experience, you don’t.”

“You don’t, but-“ But he’s given Prentice everything he was ever able to give, save for one thing: himself. “But I owe him more than secrecy and avoidance.”

“Do you?”

Tiergan can’t answer that. “I love him. I want to trust him.”

“Love doesn’t always mean trust. I’ve certainly loved men who I couldn’t trust as far as I could throw them, or however the saying goes.” Bronte takes a long drink of his coffee.

 “That sounds…”

“Like a bad idea? It was.” Tiergan must look startled, as Bronte snorts. “Don’t look so surprised. Even I was young and foolish once. And I find we are all often proven fools when it comes to love.”

If the brief curiosity of wondering just who Bronte loved had banished the ache in his chest, now Bronte’s words return it tenfold. A fool is certainly what Tiergan is, to hope and grieve and rage and yearn all these long years, and yet to run from Prentice now that he’s finally returned.

The edges of his fork are digging into his hand, and he makes an effort to relax his grip. “And if someone deserves your trust but you can’t seem to give it to them? Does that make you a fool?”

“Not a fool. Cautious, perhaps. If I were more poetic, I might call it scarred.”

“Like a solider coming home.”

“Exactly.” Bronte’s gaze is far away, eyes watching something no one else can see, as he says “You’ve been at war for so long that you don’t remember what peace felt like.”

“You can’t be the same as you were. Not even elven medicine can erase some scars.”

“You’ve become what you needed in order to survive. But there is no coming back from that.” Bronte’s balefire earring flashes in the light when he turns his gaze away from the window.

Tiergan’s breath rasps in his throat. “How can you be soft again after you’ve been asked to be brave for so long?”

“I don’t know if you can. Not entirely.”

“No. Not entirely.”

“You’ll never be the same as you were.” The twist of his mouth says that he speaks from bitter experience.

“How could you be?”

“You couldn’t.”

“You can’t,” Tiergan agrees. He’s no longer sure if he’s talking about Prentice’s mind break or Cyrah’s death or Sophie’s shattering or the war against the Neverseen or even just growing up as himself in this world where he cannot be anything but brave. He carries so many losses and scars, the sharp edges of his heartache pricking at his soft skin like so many thorns.

The lines of Bronte’s face and the scars on his hands as he lifts his cup tell a tale of his own silent griefs, wars waged and won under the cover of darkness and closed doors. “I suppose I should have faith that any struggle can be overcome, given sufficient time. However, I doubt that certain things can ever be undone.”

He’s right. He’s right, and that makes it even worse that he’s done all that he has. “You can’t undo some things. Even if you reverse it, the damage is done.”

“The damage is done,” Bronte repeats. His face should be shadowed with regret, twisted by guilt. Instead, he just looks tired.

Tiergan’s grief burns like hot tea in the back of his throat, aches like a broken rib above his heart. “He’s still gone in my head. I’m still at war.” It should be euphoric to have Prentice beside him again and Sophie healed, to be surrounded by people he knows he can trust with the truest, most fragile parts of himself. But he can’t seem to stop running.

“Some days, I’m still sixteen and called by a name that was never mine,” Bronte answers. A grief for a grief, vulnerability laid out on the table between them like a quilt.

Here, in this quiet little bakery, they are both utterly exposed; if he takes this chance to strike Bronte where it hurts, Bronte will find the chink in his armor just as easily. Mutually assured destruction. Maybe that’s why Tiergan says “We once said Sophie was just like you and I at fifteen.”

“Scared and alone in a world that wasn’t built for us. I remember.”

“I sometimes wonder if we’re like that even now.” Sometimes it feels like the shadow of that fifteen-year-old follows him still, overlays his every word and action.

“Not exactly like that. For one thing, neither you nor I are entirely alone.”

“True.”

“Still, you may be right- though don’t tell anyone I said that.” He sets his cup down with a soft clink. “Once you’ve been that child, you will never quite let go of that part of you. I’d imagine you know that better than anyone.”

He bristles at the assumption, balks even more at the fact that it’s correct. “Don’t act like you know that about me.”

“I’m only extrapolating from what you’ve told me.”

Tiergan lets out a breath. “Then I’d imagine you also know that very well.”

“I was just like you were at fifteen,” Bronte reminds.

“And Sophie is just like I was at fifteen.”

“And even I was like how you are now, once.”

Tiergan doesn’t want to be alike Bronte. But he is tired of denial, of fear. “I wonder if I’ll end up how you are now.”

“I hope not.”

“Me too.”

“Like my brother, I am the way I am because the world has written me into this role. I hope that you won’t allow yourself to be twisted into bitterness the same way.”

“I would argue you haven’t let yourself be twisted as much as he has.”

“No, perhaps not.” Bronte sighs. “Still, I have become more bitter and resigned than I ever wanted to be. There was a day when I struggled against the world like you; now, I find I have become the person you and others like you struggle against.”

“That’s not the end of it, you know,” Tiergan tells him. “You could choose differently. Even now.”

“Some things cannot be undone. But yes, I can do differently today, and tomorrow, and all the days that will come after.”

“Some things can’t be undone,” he agrees. “But it’s worth trying to do better the next time.”

“I suppose so. And I will remind you of the same- whatever regrets you carry, you can always start afresh.”

It’s a marvel, really, Bronte’s ability to tell what Tiergan needs without it ever being spoken aloud. The words can’t quite put together the fractured glass of his soul, but they soothe the jagged edges just a little. “I know. I should…I should talk to him.”

“Probably.”

“You don’t even know who I’m talking about.”

“I could guess. And besides, Emery insists communication is important to any relationship. Admittedly, I don’t usually listen to Emery, but he might have a point about that.”

“It is, as I’m always telling Fitz and Sophie.” It’s ironic, really, that he’s teaching the teenagers how to handle their Cognate bond while his own is something he’d been avoiding for years even before Prentice’s mind break. Still, he’s been given a second chance, something he never really let himself believe that he would be able to have. He would be a fool to waste it, he knows. He’s going to get it right this time.

Bronte’s dry voice breaks him from his thoughts. “Ah, yes, the young Cognate pair.”

“They’ve struggled with communication at points. And I doubt my advice has been the best, given…everything. Teenagers can sense a hypocrite from miles away.” He realizes his ripplefluffs have been laying abandoned for most of the conversation, stabbing one idly with his fork.

“Oh, certainly. As Sophie is happy to let me know when I attempt to advise her on handling her emotions.”

Tiergan can’t help a small laugh at the idea of Bronte giving advice on emotions to anyone. “I have to agree with her there.”

“Of course you do. At least you listen to my advice on other things occasionally,” Bronte sighs.

“When you have a decent thought, so very occasionally.”

That earns him a glare.

He takes a bite of his ripplefluff, resisting a smile. It would be a lie to say that the lingering grief of Sophie’s shattering doesn’t still lay heavy on his shoulders, that he won’t still fear the intimacy of a Cognate bond, that the shadow of that wounded fifteen-year-old doesn’t still follow him. But all those burdens seem less for having been spoken aloud, the air in his lungs less like shattered glass.

He's going to try again. He and Prentice are going to try again, and Tiergan is going to whisper softly to that wounded child that’s curled up in his heart, it’s okay, it’s alright, we’re safe here. We’re safe with him.

They finish their food, and he thanks Bronte for taking him to lunch. Bronte stares at him like he’s grown a second head, and Tiergan laughs again at his startled expression. “I can be nice, you know.” “Yes, but the fact that you’re choosing to be nice to me makes me wonder who you are and where the real Tiergan has gone,” Bronte deadpans back. “This is a nice place. And there are some things you understand better than anyone else.”

“True, I suppose. Well, thank you for coming to meet with me. I’m sure the rest of the Council have managed to cause at least three crises while I’ve been gone, so I should be off, but our conversation was…enlightening.”

“The same for me. I’m sure Wylie and the other kids have broken at least one of my nice vases,” Tiergan jokes, though now that he thinks about it, that has definitely happened before. “I’ll see you at Foxfire, then?”

“Sooner or later, I’m sure.”

Tiergan walks out into the bright sunlight of Eternalia, pulling out his imparter as he does so.

Tiergan Alenefar:

Do you want to talk about Cognate stuff + a few other things this week?

Prentice Endal:

Of course <3

Wednesday, maybe?

Tiergan Alenefar:

That works for me

[mysteriouslover1516]

You Are Enough

SUMMARY: MC is insecure from a past relationship, and Jake comforts her.

TRIGGER WARNING: Insecurity and form of eating disorder.

The constant rhythm of the keyboard being typed upon ceased, silence filling the air.

Jake stopped, furrowing his eyebrows. Where was MC? He hadn’t seen her all morning, that wasn’t like her.

Concerned, he pushed himself away from his desk and walked out of his study. Venturing into the kitchen, he was surprised but also worried when he couldn’t find her, usually by now she was eating breakfast.

Jake walked down the hallway to their shared bedroom, maybe MC was still sleeping, after all she had insisted on staying wide awake past two in the morning just to spend time with him.

A small smile graced his lips as he saw the sheets and blankets wrapped around MC’s familiar figure. His smile faded however as the sound of sniffling and crying reached his ears. Within a moment he was kneeling at MC’s side of the bed, gently wiping the hair out of her face.

“What’s wrong, love?” Jake whispered, quickly scanning her for any injuries. MC’s eyes were red and puffy from crying, her lips chapped, nose red from wiping it so much. “Are you sick?”

MC shook her head slightly, “I’m sorry,” she said shakily. “I didn’t mean to disturb you and draw you from your study. I’m okay.”

“You’re clearly not,” Jake said in a firm voice. He almost regretted stating that when he saw MC’s eyes brimming with tears more rapidly, but it was true, he knew she wasn’t okay. “Do you want to talk about it?”

MC shook her head, this time more adamantly. “No.”

Jake sighed and for a moment he rested his forehead on the edge of the bed. How could he forget? MC was the type of person to hide her pain, always scared of opening up, one who always tried to bottle up her emotions. He should have remembered it, especially after she witnessed Richy’s “death” in the forest. He had to coax the words out of her, and then she finally vented, she finally let him tear her walls down. It still scared him how similar MC was compared to him, but that was what made them so compatible with each other. He sighed again, he needed to get her to talk to him, which meant he needed to push her more.

“MC, please. Remember? It helps to confide in a person you trust when you’re going through these type of situations.”

“He texted,” MC whispered.

Immediate anger seethed through Jake’s head, causing his vision to go blurry for a second. He knew full well who this “he” was, MC’s ex, the one she had told him little about, but still enough for him to hate his guts. “Where’s your phone?”

MC pulled it from under her pillow and handed it to him, more tears rolling down her cheeks as she did so.

Jake tapped on the message icon, only to find the conversation with her ex still open.

Have you realized it’s been exactly a year since I left you? I still remember you crying on the park bench as I walked off. I was right, wasn’t I? You would never amount to anything, no one would want you. Or has some fool actually taken a liking to you, I guess all things are possible, right? A sudden urge to scan through your social media hit me and I clicked on your profile, no new pictures, MC. Just the posts you made when we were still together, so I’m guessing no new lover. You are probably asking yourself why I’m texting you all this, after a whole year of no contact. Let me answer that for you: Leaving you was the best decision of my life. You held me back to much MC, when I left you I was free to pursue my interests. You wanted commitment, who asks that of someone? And furthermore, who would want to commit themselves to you of all people? You remember that girl you were always insecure about, always asked if I was interested in her? Well we have been happily going steady for eight months. And she is beautiful, MC, a quality you can’t even imagine inside your small little brain. I still am bashing myself for staying with you as long as I did, especially when I had her right at my fingertips. So thank you, MC, for helping me realize I deserve so much better. Happy Anniversary to a better life.

Jake reread the conversation twice, anger boiling inside him. He was considering hacking into this guy’s bank account and wiping out all his savings when MC's voice filled his ears.

“He was right, Jake.”

“How could you say that, MC?” Jake asked, lifting her out of the covers and wrapping her into his arms. “That piece of crap threw you away like you were worthless. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve anyone, especially you.”

MC just shook her head and started to cry harder, her back shaking as she sobbed.

Jake gently placed his hands on her hips in an attempt to comfort her, but something caught his attention. He lifted her shirt up to her mid-waist, MC shivering at the sudden contact upon her skin. "MC...." He started, voice dangerously cool.

MC's eyes widened with fear and she tried to pull her shirt down, but Jake prevented her. "It's nothing," she mumbled.

"What do you mean it's nothing?!"Jake's voice rose, "I can literally see your ribs. How is this possible? You told me you got over that, you said I helped you through your eating disorder!"

"You did," MC cried. "But-"

"No, MC. You are literally going to kill yourself if you keep doing this! You can't keep starving yourself! Why do you even do this?!"

"Because other girls are so much more skinnier than me, they have a waist, they have the bodies of models." MC whispered.

"And do you see me chasing after them? Do you see me spending my life with girls like those? Do those type of girls catch my eye and do I shower them with love and affection?" Jake asked. "MC, you're beautiful. You're all I want, you were the first person that I found myself falling for after I lost my whole identity. Your spirit, your beauty, your humor, everything, I want all of it. Just please, stay with me, MC. You are enough." The hacker then bent his head, capturing her lips. He let his teeth drag gently against her bottom lip, causing her to let out a small gasp. "You are more than enough. You are beautiful."

Jake kissed her again, his tongue begging for entrance. As MC kissed him back, his hands found their way back to her bare waist. "Let me show you how beautiful you are, every single curve and inch." He whispered, gently lowering her back on the bed, hovering over her. "I simply adore you." He said, his lips ravaging hers once more.

Please leave comments, I would love to hear from any of you and know how I can improve my writing!

[theoddcatlady]

A Bachelor to Die For, Week Two

Week One

Hi, I’m still here. Not dead. Thank god.

I didn’t want to get out of bed the day after Justice’s death. I slept like hell the night before because, yeah, my room’s closest to the heart eating monster. I imagine you’d probably sleep badly too if you were alone.

But this week was our ‘first dates’ with Donovan. We drew straws for it, Jade threw a tantrum when she realized she was going last. I didn’t know why she was excited to date Donovan, but maybe that was her way of finding a way out. If she wins, she won’t die.

Tara and Taylor, ‘Team T’ as Diana has called them, spent their time trying to find a way out. The day after the elimination Taylor pretended to be filling her plate with me at the breakfast buffet while murmuring to me what they’d found out so far.

“There’s armed guards around the edge of the property. It took forty five minutes to drive out here, right?” Taylor murmured as she added another spoonful of scrambled eggs to her plate.

“Give or take. That’s quite a hike back to town,” I said while pouring myself a glass of orange juice. “Is there a reason we’re being sneaky about this conversation?”

“Because there’s literally cameras everywhere. Tara and I were exchanging facts when Bruce burst into the room to ‘chat’ with us. I read between the lines. I wish we could ask the crew if there are any blind spots, but…” Taylor trailed off and glanced behind her to see a camera man slowly rolling up on us. She laughed loudly and headed to the table. “So, Shannon’s first up today?”

I tried not to look at the camera as I sat beside Taylor. “She should be. My date’s tomorrow. What should we talk about?”

“… What do they call the kind of diet he’s on?”

I nearly snorted my orange juice. It’s always a bad idea to eat around Taylor, she always cracks jokes right when you’re about to swallow but that was more than a little dark. Guess it was called for though, considering the situation. “Jesus Christ, Taylor, I’d like to keep my heart in my chest for as long as possible thank you.”

“I would too,” Taylor took a bite of scrambled eggs before grumbling, “Hope if he does take it he bloody chokes on it.”

I spent the rest of the morning in the Queen’s Room and intended to spend every free moment I had in there if Diana didn’t come in shortly after noon.

She knocked twice before letting herself in. “We have a problem,” She announced as a cameraman followed her in.

“Yeah, we’re trapped on the dating show from hell,” I got up, “What’s up?”

“Shannon’s date starts in a little under two hours and she’s barred herself in her room. She won’t come out no matter what I say,” Diana sighed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “Can you come help?”

“If she doesn’t want to go on the date, she shouldn’t have to,” I said with a shrug.

“If she doesn’t, that’s an automatic fail and…” Diana shuddered as she drew a finger across her throat, “She’s done for. She needs to try, at least!”

That was true. I got up and made sure to shove Camera Guy off balance as I hurried to Shannon’s room.

I did try opening the door, but it was locked tight. Judging by the shadows, she’d pushed something up against it as well. “Shannon? I think it’s time to get ready for your date.”

“I’m not. Going.”

Shannon’s voice sounded so, so tired. I sighed as I rested my head against the door. “Shannon, if you don’t-”

“I said no!”

Jade picked the most lovely time to pass by, but I think the woman has a camera radar a mile in radius. “You’re still trying to help her? Are you stupid?”

“Are you actually heartless?” I cringed at the phrasing I used but there was no taking that back.

Jade rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I’m just saying, if she wants to get her heart ripped out, it’s better for all of us,” She said.

“Just go away if you’re not going to be helpful!” Diana shooed her away as I tried to think of another way.

The only one that came to me was going to suck. A lot. But I didn’t have a choice.

“Hey Shannon, if you need another night to yourself, I think we can switch spots. I’ll go first, tell you how it goes, so you know what to expect?”

Shannon was quiet for a few moments.

“I’d… I’d really appreciate that, Paige. Thank you.”

I turned to Camera Guy, who was still watching us. “Hey, where can I go to get ready?” I asked.

I got whisked back to make up. Thank god they had a professional crew for all of that, I can barely apply lipstick. By the time I was all done over, I looked pretty damn good.

I was escorted out to the back balcony, and there he was, sitting at the small table set for two. Donovan. He looked so perfectly normal. No tail, no blood. He looked, well, like Mr. Right. I smiled and cleared my throat. He glanced up, clearly surprised it was me. “… Didn’t quite to expect to see you. Wasn’t it Shannon’s turn? That’s her name, correct?” He asked.

“She, um…” I swallowed, my mouth was dry as a desert, “She wasn’t feeling well. Might be a twenty four hour bug… thing. So we switched spots. She should be here tomorrow though?”

“Well, I suppose that’s all right,” He smiled before he stood, pulling out the other chair for me, “Come, sit. I’d like to get to know you. Paige, right?”

I nodded as I took a seat, repressing a shudder as his palm brushed up against my shoulder. “That’s my name. And you’re… Donovan.” I hoped he’d read me just as socially awkward rather than actually terrified.

Donovan chuckled as he took his seat again. “Yes, that is my name. You don’t have to be so tense around me. I don’t bite.”

My expression must have been hilarious and quite telling, judging by his laugh. “Well, I certainly won’t tonight. Dinner should be out here soon, how do you take your steak?”

“Medium well.” I folded my hands in my lap, doing all I could not to dig my fingernails into my skin too deeply. “Can we just talk? Like, honestly?”

Donovan nodded. “Of course. Say whatever you like,” He said.

“What the actual fuck are you?”

I expected dinner to end right there. Camera Guy’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. But Donovan actually seemed amused, even if he was taken off guard. “Well then, you don’t censor yourself at all. And as for that, I don’t have an answer. Not even my mother knows, I suppose it all comes from my father’s side of the family. And she has no idea how to locate him, it’s not like they exchanged phone numbers. All I know is that I must regularly eat hearts. Human hearts, we’ve tried beef and the result just makes me ill.”

“How often?” I cocked my head to the side.

“Preferably once a week, but I can go a little over a month before I start to become weak. The longest was…” Donovan twisted his mouth as he thought, “I think about three months? It nearly cost me my life though.”

Still stunned that he wasn’t pissed at me, I continued on my line of questioning. “Must suck, knowing that other people have to die in order for you to live,” I said.

“It’s something I’ve come to terms with. You have to if you have to live like this. Thankfully Cecil has connections at the hospital, so more often than not I’ve gotten hearts from those recently passed from natural causes.”

“Cecil?”

“My apologies, the man my mother married. I suppose he’s my stepfather?” Donovan shrugged. “But enough about me. How about you, are you close to your parents?”

“Let’s see…” Now I had to be charming… or since he didn’t mind, I’d just be myself. “They divorced when I was six, but I’m on good terms with both of them. I think I’m closer to my mom though, we’re more alike.”

“I see. Any siblings?”

“Stepbrother, on my dad’s side. He’s a pain in the neck but he’s a good kid.” I tried not to think too hard about the fact I was probably never going to see him again. “You an only child?”

“I am. Oh, looks like it’s time to eat.”

Our plates were set in front of us and I was so damn relieved to see that Donovan also had a steak, and not another heart. He clearly saw my relief and he laughed again. “What? Did you seriously think I was going to eat another heart? I think having you faint during dinner would be in poor taste.”

“You’re just going to remember me as the fainter, aren’t you?” I said as I cut myself a piece. I had no appetite because of nerves, but I needed to eat something.

“Probably.”

The rest of the dinner I think I nailed. We talked about our interests, he was absolutely fascinated by my desire to write a book and I managed to work up some enthusiasm about his collection of various first editions. Turns out the first edition of The Hobbit is his, he got it when he was thirteen as a birthday present. He recited the first page from memory and for a moment I forgot he was a monster.

It would’ve been probably one of my better dates if I could’ve actually forgotten.

As you can clearly tell, I didn’t do the worst of all the girls as I still have a heart in my chest. Each of the dates were livestreamed to the rest of the contestants in the living room. I was surprised to see Shannon among the group of girls, but seeing her give me a small smile and a nod made going first worth it.

Shannon actually did end up going to her date the next day, although she barely talked and didn’t even have a bite of her food. Diana was so perfectly charming, she faked it better than I ever could when it came to wooing Mr. Right. Tara was passive aggressive for a good portion of the date, but she actually gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, more than the rest of us. Taylor absolutely killed the mood with her bad jokes, but I’m pretty sure that came from how nervous she was.

…. Well, there’s a reason I’m saving Jade for last. Jade more than bombed her date. During all of the dates until Jade’s, Donovan had been the perfect gentleman. Even when Taylor made a ‘that’s what she said’ joke, all she got out of him was a twitch and an irritated sigh. But Jade pushed the wrong buttons. She talked only about herself and barely let Donovan get a word in. She criticized everything about the meal. She was quite sexually aggressive, even when Donovan would politely change the subject or remove her hand from his thigh.

It was the third time she it that I saw he was getting pissed, his typically calm expression turning darker. Taylor was shaking her head and Diana pulled Shannon’s attention away from the TV by asking her about some cartoon she really liked. We all knew this wasn’t going to end well.

Donovan abruptly got up about halfway through dinner. “I think it’s time you retire for the night, Miss Hutchison,” He said.

Jade got up and snaked her arm in with Donovan’s. “How about instead I go to bed with you? Forget those other girls, I can be what you need,” She said.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The growl that came from Donovan didn’t sound at all human before I blinked and Donovan had Jade pinned up against the wall, hand on her throat. She struggled as hard as she could but it didn’t even shake him.

“You know, I let the producers choose one contestant, and they asked that I let her stay on for as long as possible to make it a good show. But I think it’ll be a much better show, now that you’ll be gone.”

That scorpion like tail flicked out from behind him and her eyes went wide. We heard the bloodcurdling scream outside just a second before it blasted from the TV speakers. Donovan’s tail stabbed her in the chest, cutting her off as it twisted around inside of her before yanking out her heart. Her body went limp and Donovan tossed it away like it was trash.

“Turn off the fucking camera,” He snarled before storming off. I saw Monica running after him before the feed went dark.

There was no official elimination the next day since, well, it had taken place the night before. Apparently Monica had given Donovan quite the tongue lashing about it, so no more eliminations will take place again before Friday. I am no longer in the Queen’s Room, that now belongs to Diana.

I feel sick that I’m actually glad it was Jade that was eliminated.

Because that means I’m still here.

Week Three

[lillie98]

I Figured It Out

So I saw a series of posts on TikTok this morning from @connect_dots7 regarding the connections between the Original Labyrinth and Stranger Things. It was fascinating. Their main thesis connected the Upside Down’s creation/Frozen Time to Mike. That maybe, potentially, Will was NOT the one who froze the Upside Down on November 6, 1983. Instead, they posited that MIKE was the one who subconsciously stopped time. Stay with me here. In Labyrinth, Sarah wishes for her baby brother, Toby, to be taken away by Goblins. She turns off the light in her brother’s room and he is then abducted by goblins. In order to get them back, she must reject her childhood and own up to the fact that she is indeed growing older. It’s sad and melancholy, but it fits her character. The theorist, however, suggested that Mike must do the opposite. We all know Mike wants nothing more than to play DND and Nintendo with Will for the rest of his life, but he does not see a reality in which this is possible. He must grow up, like Sarah, reject these childish dreams, and move on.

But, unlike Sarah, Mike’s resolution is to EMBRACE this part of himself. His nerdiness, his Queerness, and his love for Will, his childhood best friend. He CAN grow up and embrace his childhood at the same time, he only has to allow himself to do it. Mike froze time in the Upside Down as soon as Will pulled out of his garage by flicking off the lights. He didn’t know it, but HE set this entire plan in motion. He wants to be with Will so badly that he was willing to freeze time to make it happen. Now, he must turn the lights back on, this reigniting the flame of their relationship (Hide in the Light).

Notice how EVERY season begins with Mike running late for something? He wants more TIME. More time to be a child, more time to hold on to the things he holds dear, and more time to figure out who he is. When he accepts himself, his interest, and his love for Will, everything will be undone. Remember, Hopper said Mike was the key (with a literal green key behind him). It’s up to Mike to set things right and give himself permission to move on. One cannot truly heal until they work through their own trauma and Lord knows Mike has not done that yet. The moment he realizes that Will loves him exactly as he is and wants to spend the rest of his life with him will set him free. It’s Forced Conformity, that’s what’s KILLING THE KIDS!!!

The theorist also connected this idea to Mike jumping off the quarry in S1. He jumped not because he was trying to save Dustin (although that was certainly part of it), but because he was CONVINCED that Will had jumped and drowned. He had no idea that El was going to catch him and save him. He was ready to d!e for Will. Mike must confront that action (probably by jumping again 😖) and why he did it. When he realizes that he jumped for Will and not Dustin, he will be confronted with his true feelings. (Think Jesus and the Devil, not that I’m comparing Jesus and Mike) All Mike wants is to love and be loved it return. He just thinks that that world can never exist. There’s more on @connect_dot7 but I’ll allow them to explain because they’re more eloquent than me. 😛 But I’ll add this to the equation.

As I read these theories the song “Slipping Through My Fingers” from Mama Mia (don’t judge me) played in my head. It’s written as a Mother/Daughter story, but really centers on Growing Up, losing time, and wanting to FREEZE THE BEAUTIFUL MOMENTS FORVER. This is Mike’s story arc and what he must accept in order to move on and release the Upside Down. I rewrote the lyrics only slightly and when I tell you they fit PERFECTLY!! I actually made myself cry. I’ll post them below. Thanks for listening to my long-winded InfoDump. I appreciate it. (I also think this could EASILY play into the whole “Mike is in a Coma and Must Confornt His Feelings in order to Be Set Free”)

Slipping Through My Fingers  (Rewritten for Mike Wheeler and Will Byers)

Schoolbag in hand, he leaves home in the early evening

Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile

I watch him go with a surge of that well-known sadness

And I have to sit down for a while

The feeling that I'm losing him forever

And without really entering his world

I'm glad whenever I can share his laughter

That funny little boy

Slipping through my fingers all the time

I try to capture every minute

The feeling in it

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Do I really see what's in his mind?

Each time I think I'm close to knowing

We keep on growing

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sleep in our eyes, him and me at the breakfast table

Barely awake, I let precious time go by

Then when he's gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling

And a sense of guilt I can't deny

What happened to the wonderful adventures

The places I had planned for us to go?

(Slipping through my fingers all the time)

Well, some of that we did but most we didn't

And why? I just don't know

Slipping through my fingers all the time

I try to capture every minute

The feeling in it

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Do I really see what's in his mind?

Each time I think I'm close to knowing

We keep on growing

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture

And save it from the funny tricks of time

Slipping through my fingers

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Schoolbag in hand, he leaves home in the early evening 

Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile

[rvnwtch]

@craftygamerkm1714 tagged me in a tag game thing!!! Here’s some answers!!

1 Are you named after anyone?

Oh this is a REALLY good question. I don’t think so. I think my parents just picked out a name they liked the sound of. (Which I’m glad for. I don’t need to carry on someone else’s legacy.)

2 When was the last time you cried?

Last night because I was listening to this woman tell a beautiful story and it-it just GOT me okay? (which is impressive, I don’t think I’ve cried from a story since Addie LaRue was early released for book of the month) also whenever I read Song of Achilles I cried for the last 16 pages.)

3 Do you have kids?

No. And I don’t know if I ever will. Part of me wants to be a mom so bad but also… I don’t think I have the patience and I think that’s very grown up of me to realize and not sad at all!

4 Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Every word out of my mouth

5 What’s the first thing you notice about people? 

If they look upset or not. I’m not judging anyone, I’m just shy and debating how to interact with people.

6 What’s your eye color?

Eye color is the color of someone’s irises! They come in a variety of colors ranging from light to dark. Hell maybe some people have no eye color at all. (Remember that sarcasm question?) That would be very badass of them.

7 Scary movies or happy endings? 

I was gonna make up like a super high stakes “I would rather do x,y,z than watch a scary movie!!” But then I decided that was untrue and I don’t want to jinx myself. (The intrusive thoughts started getting me on this one LMAO). Happy endings, when done right, are very nice.

8 Special talents? 

I pick up on things really fast (as long as I’m not anxious or being pressured! Or bored.) I’m just a quick learner so long as I’m interested. 

9 Where were you born?

In a hospital. Probably in an operating room of some sort.

10 What are your hobbies?

I’ve been trying to figure this one out lately. Outside of ESO and reading I don’t do much. I do Like tarot cards, there are some really fun editions out there. And I can’t say any of these things to people I’ve just met! I need more things to do.

11 Do you have any pets?

On Elder Scrolls I have so many pets that my little sibling heard me talking about getting the free Gallen Wisp or whatever it’s called and shouted “I don’t think you need any more pets.” Which is blatantly untrue. I will not rest until I’ve collected every pet in that damn game. My favorite is the wicker fright banekin (but don’t tell the other pets I said that!)

12 What sports do you/have you played?

I was gonna make another joke and say something like “exercise is for the weak!” But that is like the opposite of true so I’ll answer this one. When I was in preschool I “played” soccer. But the coach was mean and I was like four, so I refused to go to the practice sessions or play in the games. I wanted to do volleyball in high school, but I didn’t want people to look at me (being a high schooler and all!) so I didn’t do that either. And I don’t really regret either of those decisions.

13 How tall are you? 

Taller than the tallest mountain peak. I’m so tall that I wear clouds as hats. My goal in life is to always be admired for my pure and authentic height. (Tall for a woman but I will not be sharing anything too identifying on my social media account where I write about video game vampires, Hahaha!)

14 Favorite subject in school?

I’m sure this will come as a surprise, but anything that involved writing! It took less effort than math, and science class has always been hard for me. History was fine, but it had gotten repetitive by high school. I was almost always excited for Language Arts/Reading class. Or any time we got to use class time in the library.

15 Dream job? 

Something that’s partially remote. I wouldn’t mind working from home two or three days out of the week and going in only once or twice. I need something that gets me out of the house, but I’m a major homebody with anxiety so… I need to spend time in my room to recuperate. Also important would be something where people won’t yell at me. 

I’m tagging @simping-master-69 and

@i-simp-for-fennorian !!!

[angelbluediary]

My entire 20s has been spent telling myself my one true passion has no place in my day-to-day life / goal planning and that I need to focus on “real” pathways. Maybe I’ve been looking at it all wrong. And it’s not a matter of conflating my passion into my job (even if it were possible) because that would no doubt suck all the joy out of it.

My career is not the most important thing in my life and it never will be.

That’s okay. That’s who I am. For years now I’ve been digging into myself searching for new clarity, like I’d wake up one day and suddenly be invested in a specific job and know exactly what I want to pursue. It has never happened and it never will: I am exactly who I always have been and who I am now. I don’t see that changing anytime soon, either.

There is both relief and reluctance in taking my future career off the pedestal society placed it on for me. Relief because now there’s room to breathe, knowing I can work a job that will sustain my lifestyle and through my lifestyle and home, find my contentment, my peace. With the job being just another fact of life, a neutral entity that could be rewarding in its own way.

Reluctance because the idea that I can make a living by doing what I LOVE has always been pushed hard onto me. To lead with creativity, to dare and dream, to be an artist, to be a WRITER (as that’s all my parents know me as), to be fulfilled by my career. I get defensive when I read practical career advice urging the dreamers and romantics to settle for a job they’re not passionate about. My inner child is like, “that’s stupid and you’re wrong and just bitter and cynical” but they’re not wrong. There needs to be a healthy balance when we talk to teens about career paths. Follow your dreams if you’re THAT passionate about it but really, really be open to just not caring all that much about your job. Unless it’s an unhealthy environment, so long as you’re making decent money to spend towards the things that DO light you up, and so long as you’re realistically satisfied with your work-free time ratio, what’s the harm! That’s the society we live in. It’s not perfectly ideal. I’d love to lounge around for the rest of my life never ever having to labor or base my value as a person on the amount and type of work I do. But that’s where we are and we need to live.

I have always been in love with kink. Enamored, obsessed, inspired. It’s like coming home to myself. It’s the one time I feel fully present and in control and EXCITED. I can talk about it nonstop. It lights me up completely. That’s my passion. It’s a difficult one to bear because I can’t just tell anyone about it, but it feels extra amazing for that same reason.

I can interact with the community online, sure, but I can’t actually participate or foster new connections without attending real life events. And that takes money.

I love music. I can’t go to concerts without money.

I want to soak up more art. Go see movies in theaters again. Attend plays. That all takes money.

I know my career is not going to save my soul now—but it will give me the means to do so. I just need to make use of what I’ve got now, the decisions that will lead to decent life choices and steady pay. I CAN do this. I have the qualifications already to go into administrative work at least—editorial, though it’s competitive. Publishing maybe, although that’s difficulty level Master and not at all practical at this current time.

If in the future I want to become a librarian, maybe I can work out a new master’s degree in library science while working a salaried job so I’m not stuck with unbelievable extra debt. Right now, that’s not a practical option for me. I was thinking desperately before, but this is the truth.

It’s funny that while trying to be practical, I keep returning to the creative writing MFA. It all depends on a difficult acceptance, but I’d have a salary there too. I’d get professional benefits while acquiring a new degree and resume add-ons. I’d probably have an easier time trying to get a job in academia. If I played it really smart, could possibly even save money as a student—and come out of it having more work then ever to get myself closer to my goal of publishing a novel.

Because that is still a goal of mine. It’s not the fire in my life, but it is a persistent want I’ve always had, to print out my manuscript and mark it all up; to hold my own novel with my hands and see it sell copies. To have something to show for my artistry (beyond the adult content I’ve made that obviously can’t be shared with everyone I know).

I want to be financially secure and be able to have fun experiences again that balance out all the not-so-fun shit of adult life. I’m single, I’m childless, I’m STILL IN MY MF 20s so why am I not having ANY fun?

I will restructure my goals. My goal is to enjoy myself; it’s to indulge in my wicked passions. I’ll be grateful to any job and career path that gets me there.

I want to write dirty stories. I want to make lots of MP3s and audio scripts and play around with my voice. I want to buy a cool mask and rebrand myself (again). I want a rich inner life AND a life outside my room/phone.

There is more relief now in knowing my real priorities and accepting who I am. I hope it’ll be easier from here on out to find and apply to new jobs—from administrative roles to video game website editorial staff, to whatever else seems like a decent enough match. I can rise to any occasion.

[sapphireginger]

Chapter #34

Summary:

I had no idea she was there until she sat down next to me and nudged me. "Zorro?"

I blinked several times and looked at her, the hazy feeling fading slowly until I could speak. "Hmm?"

She could tell my mind had been elsewhere and softly asked, "What's going on in that mega mind of yours?"

I looked down at my giraffe and sighed only able to say, "Her."

Full AO3 Fic

Chapter #34 

Zach’s Past

☣ ♡ ☣

Despite the fact that Giana held me the rest of that afternoon, after I walked her home, I didn't see her for a few days. In fact, I didn't see her for almost a week. Alright I saw her, but we didn't hang out and I knew it was my fault or at least I assumed it was my fault. It was hard going from seeing her, speaking to her and spending time with her every day to the near polar opposite. To be honest, I spent a lot of time in my room because I wasn't sure what else to do. I still played video games with Gecko, still played catch with Boa, still played soccer with E-Z, and still played volleyball with ZuZu. I still cooked with my mom and still helped my dad balance his household accounts. I even found a website where I could pick a level of difficulty and do as many math problems as I wanted to. Now to you that probably seems boring, but it kept my mind busy and as I've said before, I love math.

One afternoon, I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom cross-legged with Zoe, my stuffed giraffe, in my lap and my fingers were idly fiddling with her tail. I was zoned out, deep in thought and didn't see ZuZu walk by, hear her knock on my doorway or hear anything she said. I had no idea she was there until she sat down next to me and nudged me. "Zorro?"

I blinked several times and looked at her, the hazy feeling fading slowly until I could speak. "Hmm?"

She could tell my mind had been elsewhere and softly asked, "What's going on in that mega mind of yours?"

I looked down at my giraffe and sighed only able to say, "Her."

ZuZu quirked a small smile, but I averted my gaze. My sister was too observant and had probably known for a while just how I felt about Giana. It seemed to me that ZuZu had always seemed to know things about me before I did. I suspected that was even more true after everything with Jayden. I truly didn't feel like I knew who I was anymore. I would lie awake at night, puzzling over what had become of my identity. While with Jayden, my identity was tied to his every word, action and desire. I became dehumanized and now that I was free of him, I had to wonder who I would be now. I wouldn't be the same ever again, but I wasn't so far from the me I've always been that I couldn't reclaim that. For now, it was nice to know that even if I felt like a stranger to myself, ZuZu would always know me better than I know myself. If I got lost in the eye of the storm, in the bottom of the Bermuda Triangle, she would steer me out, a compass to guide me home and anchor me to the present. ZuZu and Giana were my anchors.

Anyway, as I was saying, I averted my gaze at her smile, not wanting to be so easily read. Still, she didn't do more than ask, "What about her?"

I sighed and started fiddling with Zoe's tail again, chewing my lip. There was much to say about her, but the one thing that had been on my heart and mind was—"The other day, about a week ago, everything was perfect but then Jayden texted me."

"He what?!" ZuZu interjected, her body tense as a livewire, a bomb ready to go off. 

I took my hand and wrapped it around her wrist, moving my thumb back and forth on her pulse point. "I'm okay ZuZu," I whispered. I waited for her to nod and let her take my hand and squeeze it as I continued, "Giana saw my face because I suck at hiding how I'm feeling. She tried to come closer in order to comfort me and I..." I teared up, guilt churning in my stomach over how I reacted to Giana's attempt to console me. "I fucking yelled at her to...GET AWAY FROM ME..."

ZuZu helped dry my tears but didn't say anything, letting me take a moment to collect myself enough to continue.

"I apologized to her. My reaction to her attempt to comfort me was just rotten on my part, even if I was scared in that moment."

ZuZu started rubbing my back and I relaxed a little at the familiar gesture. "Then what happened Zorro?"

I looked at ZuZu and softly replied, "She asked what he said. I don't know how she knew it was him."

"Maybe she knows more than you think or pays more attention than you realize. She cares about you. I can see it and so can the rest of the family though they may not realize it the way I do. I can't think of anyone else who could text you and have you react that way."

With a choked off wet chuckle I nodded. "She's so smart and so observant. I feel so stupid now."

"Don't," ZuZu said. "You're not stupid. You were triggered Zorro. I'm sure she doesn't blame you."

I shrugged one shoulder, sure that Giana did in fact blame me, but I didn't voice that belief. "Well, I showed her the text. Then I told her she needed to go home. She thought I meant Lu's house, but I told her she needed to go home to California."

ZuZu's eyes widened, her mouth gaping slightly. "Why?"

My shoulders sagged in defeat. "Because I don't want Jayden to hurt her, and I know he would. I care about her too much to risk him harming her. Well, she then quoted Shakespeare to me, a passion we share. She said, 'I care about you Zach. You're my friend. I'm staying right here.' Those words struck a chord in me, and I've been trying to sort through my thoughts and emotions, my feelings ever since."

Apparently, when I repeated to ZuZu what Giana had said, I may have put an emphasis with slight disappointment in my tone on the word friend. It wasn't a conscious decision which said a lot to be honest.

With her head tilted, she asked me, "Zorro? Why did you say friend like that?"

I looked at her and then down again. "N-No reason."

She sighed. "You can't lie to me. I always know when you do. Come on, Zorro. Throw it out there and we'll deal with it."

"We will?" I asked.

"Always."

"Together?" 

She grinned and squeezed my hand. "How else would we do it?"

I hugged my giraffe tightly, with the arm that wasn't within her grasp and mumbled an incoherent response. 

ZuZu quirked a brow. "What? What was that? Sorry, I couldn't hear you. Could you speak up?"

My cheeks flushed bright pink and I cleared my throat to speak up more. "I-I had t-thought m-maybe—I-I don't want to b-be—I-I w-want her to b-be..." I trailed off, hating how difficult it was to just say the words.

ZuZu wanted to hear me say it and I was trying, grateful for how patient my sister had always been. Finally, I just blurted it out. "I want her to be more than my friend. I want to date her." I covered my face with my hands. I didn't want to see her reaction, too afraid she would think I was delusional for wanting something like that with Giana.

"Heaven's sakes, Zorro! Why haven't you told her?"

I peeked at her through my fingers and then slowly lowered my hands. I was surprised, to say the least. I had expected a different reaction but then I realized that I was still living with a sense of fear. No one in my family, nor a single one of my friends was anything like Jayden but I kept waiting for that to change or not be true. Jayden would've laughed in my face, smacked me around, fucked me until I bled and thrown me in the basement if I had expressed such a sentiment. The reminder of how broken I was led to the tears that slipped down my cheeks when I answered her. "Look at me, ZuZu. I'm a mess. I just got out of an abusive relationship. I'm weak, pathetic, and I have nothing to offer her. I definitely can't bring as much to a relationship as she can. Most of all, I don't deserve her."

ZuZu's expression was the definition of devastated. Slowly she reached out and took my hand, rubbing circles on the back of it with her thumb. She swallowed thickly as she formulated her reply.

Later she would tell me just how hot the hate for Jayden burned in every fiber of her being and I couldn't begin to imagine how much hotter that hate would burn if they knew everything he had done.

"Those words are words that you believe because they were told to you over and over and over again, not because they're true. Look at me, Zorro."

I turned to face her, my heart racing as I took in what she was telling me.

Once she was confident that she had my complete attention, she continued, "You are special, strong, caring, selfless, and honest. Zorro, you have so much love to offer. You are important and you love her. You love Giana. Anyone who is paying attention can tell that you love her, and it's not love like the love you have for Lu or the love you have for your family. It's the kind of love you have for a significant other, a love that is true."

I teared up again, my heart hurting and swelling at the same time. "Do you think she—How can I possibly—Why would she want me, ZuZu?"

ZuZu took my hands in hers and sighed softly, blinking to relinquish her own tears. "You'll have to ask her in order to know the exact reasoning on her side of things, but she came all this way and she's still here. She has spent time with Lu, time with you and time our whole family. She spent time with each of your siblings, doing something they loved. She cooked with mom and well, she didn't do as much with dad cause he's dad but the time she's spent getting to know each of us speaks to her character. Everything she has said and done, speaks volumes about how she feels."

The words made my heart soar, and butterflies flitted about in my stomach. "W-Well what should I do?"

ZuZu let out an exasperated sigh. "TELL HER!"

I blushed and nodded. "Ok," I whispered.

☣ ♡ ☣

After ZuZu and I talked, I got on my computer to see where I could get the perfect flower. There was a flower, a blue rose to be precise, that I had thought about getting for her quite a while now. I was so excited when I found it and was relieved to see that I could easily order it or go pick one up. I decided it was best to order it because it would come protected and fresh. So that's what I did, and I also discovered the meaning behind giving someone a blue rose. The meaning of blue roses is to transmit trust, loyalty, affection and reserve. When I chose blue, it wasn't for the meaning but instead because it reminds me of her eyes, but the meaning was perfect. I was antsy waiting for it to be delivered, but when it arrived and I saw it, my breath caught. It was perfect, just like...her. Then, of course, I was fretting on what to wear when I went to give it to her, but I realized that wasn't what mattered. 

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, having finally decided on an outfit. I wore dark wash jeans, a white fit tee with a blue button up over it that I left unbuttoned and a pair of blue converse. I then grabbed the rose and took a deep breath to steel my nerves. After a few minutes of deep breathing, I left my house and made my way to Lu's house. I had considered telling them I was coming but a part of me was too nervous that I'd chicken out and another part of me was afraid that she would tell me I couldn't come.

I arrived about twenty minutes later, walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. I hid the rose behind my back to prevent her from seeing it right away. I heard someone coming to the door and I a small smile formed on myself when I realized it was Giana who was opening the door. As I tried to figure out what to say, I saw and heard a few things that made me pause.

Giana was in a pair of black pajama shorts with low battery symbols on them and a black t-shirt that had a low battery symbol on it and her hair was down, slightly curled, cascading over her shoulders. I realized just how short the shorts were and I found it difficult to keep from staring. Then I saw Lu get up from the couch, but he was in pajama pants and shirtless.

He walked towards the kitchen but glanced at the door, seeing me and then glanced at Giana. "Hey Zach. Hey, GiGi? I'm getting more popcorn. Do you want anything?"

She glanced at Lu, but it didn't escape my noticed the way a light blush formed on her cheeks. The sight caused my heart to sink and the smile on my face to fade away. Still, I didn't say a word while she answered Lu's question. "How about a soda? Ooooh and some M&Ms?"

"Sure!" Lu said and headed into the kitchen and the door swung shut behind him. 

"Thanks Luigi." She called out and then turned back to me.

I couldn't meet her gaze at first, believing that I was about to make a fool of myself. Here they were in pajamas together, eating popcorn, watching a movie and to top it off, they even had pet names. I looked down at my feet and wished that I hadn't come.

Just as I was debating the pros and cons of leaving without saying a word, Giana's voice broke through my thoughts. "Hey, Zach. Everything alright? I didn't know you were coming."

"Clearly," I muttered bitterly.

That made her tilt her head, and I could have sworn she flinched at my tone. However, before she could reply, Lu reappeared. "Hey GiGi. Toby just called and he's stuck at the airport. Will you be alright if I have to head out?"

She looked at Lu and nodded with a smile. "Of course. Can't have the boyfriend stuck at the airport now, can we?"

Lu chuckled, shaking his head. "Definitely not." He then hurried upstairs to get what he needed in order to go pick up his boyfriend. I wasn't sure what emotion I was feeling at the fact that Lu had a boyfriend. I hadn't heard about Toby but then I had to remind myself that Lu and I hadn't stayed in touch after we broke up aside from the gift that he gave me. I had no claim on him anymore of course and I didn't want to but sometimes there was still a phantom ache in my chest when I thought of him with someone else. I hadn't ever been in love with Lu, but I did love him once. Now however...

It suddenly occurred to me that my assumption had been so far off base. I felt so terrible in that moment for having assumed. It was said that to assume was to make an ass of you and me.

When Lu came back downstairs and left, I finally looked up at Giana who wasn't meeting my gaze either, but she softly said, "So um...what brings you here?"

I clutched the rose tightly behind my back and took a deep breath. "W-Well t-there um—I-I had a thing t-to s-say—Had words to do—I mean, I wanted to say that um—I had a question but—I had something t-to tell you a-a-and I f-figured I s-should b-bring you s-s-something to um—" I was so nervous and couldn't seem to get the right words to come out.

Giana tilted her head, her face giving no indication that she was annoyed or impatient which was a relief. She smiled gently and looked at me. "Zach? Take a moment. Take a breath."

I did as she said, taking a deep breath in, held it and then let it out. I did that a few times and then met her gaze, my voice soft as I tried again. "I-I wanted to t-tell you something a-and I f-figured I-I should b-bring you something."

Her smile grew. "Ok. What did you bring?"

I breathed out and pulled the rose from behind my back, offering it to her and trying to ignore the way my hand shook as I waited for her to take it. I hoped she didn't notice the tremors.

She gasped softly, her eyes widening and slowly reached for it. As she graciously accepted the rose, our fingers brushed, sending a shiver through my body and I quickly pulled my hand away, shoving it into my pocket and clearing my throat.

"Z-Zach?"

I shoved my hands further into my pockets, my nerves high and my heart racing a mile a minute. "Yes?" I said, the words barely audible.

"It's beautiful."

I looked up, my eyes wide with surprise even as a small hopeful smile formed on my face. "Wait. R-Really?"

She nodded, "Really. I love blue."

"A b-beautiful flower for a b-beautiful girl. It's b-blue like your eyes."

She blushed deep red and couldn't help chuckling softly. My head perked up when she asked, "Would you um..." she trailed off for a moment and then cleared her throat. "Would you like to come inside? Then you can tell me what you wanted to tell me."

I nodded slowly and when she stepped aside, I walked inside. I was surprised when she headed to the living room and didn't close the door behind me. She would later tell me that she wanted a closed door to be my doing. She figured after everything with Jayden that I would want to choose whether or not to be alone with someone. That made me melt completely when she later revealed such consideration to me.

She cleared off a spot for me to sit beside her. I briefly wondered about how the sitting arrangements were prior to my arrival and would later learn that she and Lu had taken to friendly cuddles but no more than like a head on a shoulder under a blanket. She held the rose close the entire time before sitting on the right side of the couch. She smiled and patted the spot next to her. "Join me?"

I nodded and slowly sat down on the left side, my eyes finding hers. If I could have seen the expression on my face, I knew it would be akin to admiration. I had always and always would, admire Giana. "S-So um..."

She tilted her head, "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

I knew exactly what I wanted to tell her. There was no question about it, no doubt as to the words, but I found myself saying pretty much everything except that. "Well, I wanted to again apologize for yelling at you when you tried to comfort me. That was a rotten thing for me to do, and it was a horrible way to repay all your kindness."

She smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "It's alright, Zach. You were scared and that's nothing to be ashamed of."

I relaxed more, letting out a breath of relief that I didn't know I was holding. The more we talked, the more I was able to relax.

Eventually, I ended up kicking off my shoes and shrugging out of my button up shirt. the warmth of the house making it more comfortable to remove. Then we started a different movie, both agreeing on Nerve. I loved the movie, and I loved it all the more because I was watching it with her. 

☣ ♡ ☣

After the movie ended, it was pretty late and so I softly spoke, gathering as much courage as I could. "Giana?"

She looked at me, her sapphire blue eyes bright and her countenance one of contentment. "Yes, Zach?"

I swallowed thickly and cleared my throat. "Can I ask you something?"

She nodded. "Sure. What's up?"

I chewed my lip and had every intention of asking what I had wanted to ask her all evening, but something held me back from doing so. Instead, I asked, "I was wondering if you would like to go swimming? W-With me. L-Like you and me."

She tilted her head and then blushed lightly. She would later tell me that she wanted to ask if I was asking her on a date, but she simply said, "I'd love to. When? Where?"

I smiled, the butterflies returning to my stomach and my heart alight with excitement. "Tomorrow and um...I know a place."

Her smile and excitement were infectious and apparently so was her yawn followed by fluttering eyelashes, both of us tired and acknowledging the later hour. "Sorry. I'm tired."

I shook my head, waving off her apology, "Don't be sorry. I um...I can go home."

She took my hand in hers and very softly suggested, "Maybe you could stay?"

I knew the heat on my cheeks was making them turn deep red, but I didn't let it bother me or keep me from replying, "Y-You want me to s-stay?"

"Yes. Please?"

The ability to deny that request wasn't within my capabilities at that point. So, that was how we ended up asleep side by side on the couch. Then, well, when I tell you what happened next, you'll find out how we ended up sleeping throughout the night.

☣ ♡ ☣

Lu and his boyfriend Toby had gotten back really late, around 4 am and he went to check on us since we had left the tv on. He would later tell us that he melted completely at the adorable picture we made. He had been severely tempted to capture it in a picture, a true Kodak moment.

ZuZu showed up at Lu's house around 12 pm since I hadn't yet returned home. She rang the doorbell and Lu quickly answered the door, a huge grin forming on his face as he gestured for her to come in. "Come here. Come here. You have to see this."

She followed him inside and he led her to the living room where he pointed to the couch. ZuZu peeked in and she would later tell us that she grinned so hard at the sight. Giana and I were cuddled closer than we had ever been before, our legs intertwined and our arms around each other.

When Giana and I woke up, I admit to you that it was both awkward and yet not awkward in the slightest. For her it was me and for me it was her. We sat up and parted slightly, our eyes meeting and locking.

I gently tucked her hair behind her ear and softly asked, "S-So swimming? You and me?"

She leaned into the gesture and nodded, her voice coming out just as soft, "You and me. What time?"

"I was thinking that we could go for a midnight swim. I can come pick you up."

With a light pink tint to her cheeks, she nodded. "S-Sounds perfect to me."

I was on cloud nine and I swear I could've kissed her. That's how excited I was, but of course I didn't kiss her...yet. I did however kiss her cheek before I left and made my way home. I was beyond excited, looking forward to the evening I would spend with Giana.

As I walked, I told myself, 'You're going to take her swimming and you are going to ask her to—You're going to ask her to be your girlfriend."

I had a skip in my step, a grin on my face and my heart full of hope, soaring and racing in my chest. All of that because of the beautiful blue rose—the beautiful blue rose that was Giana and, well, I trusted her. However, most of all, I was absolutely falling in love with her, that was if I hadn't already fallen.

[buzzings]

letter no. 7

i guess i haven’t written much lately. to be fair, nothing is really happening, though. i’m just existing. i mean, my emotional state is still very wonky, but i think it will be for life, so that isn’t really surprising at all, either. but this post is about to be very rambly.

i’m writing this in a bad mood, which is something i tend to avoid doing because it always sounds very flat this way, at least to me. maybe it’s just my voice in my head reading this as i type that makes it sound that way. if i was in a better mood, i wonder if this same text would sound the same.

i’ve been doing fuck all in my free time. i’m in the middle of replaying assassin’s creed odyssey for the second time. it was really fun at first, but now it’s getting to the point where i’m running around doing random side quests instead of progressing the main story, just because i know how it ends—and i don’t want it to end. because if it ends, i’ll have to find interest in another one of my hobbies, and i don’t think i really have the energy for that either. i tried doing a little crochet project, and i got bored very quickly. which sucks. i love my tactile hobbies. this is the curse of having adhd, and also living in today’s general society.

i’m still twenty-five. i’ll be twenty-six soon, and this is the first time i vehemently don’t want to go up in age. if you’re wondering, it’s not because i’ll get kicked off my parent’s health insurance (i haven’t been on someone else’s insurance since i was twenty). i just really like the age twenty-five. twenty-five is a good number. twenty-six is too even (i’m not sure this concept would make sense to anyone else). now that i think about it, i just really don’t like even numbers, actually. the only even-number-birthdays i really liked were twelve and twenty-four. i couldn’t tell you why.

though, as i settle in to my mid-twenties, the concept of dying alone is more pressing. i never really cared much about finding a partner or getting married (the reasons for this, though, are a whole separate musing for another post), or having an executor, or life insurance, or anything else “adulty” (this probably has something to do with the fact that i was never able to conceive of living even this long). in fact, i was actively and belligerently against settling down to the point that it was pretty much my entire personality. now, i can’t stop thinking about it.

(i know i don’t want children. i do not want to be responsible for a human being that isn’t me (not including the people i already have in my life. that’s a different kind of responsibility). i do not want to have a person depending on me to take care of them, the stakes being that they would literally die if i were to neglect them. i don’t trust myself to not fuck things like that up, and i probably never will, with the exception of my cat.

i know full well that i will never in my existence create a life using my own body. what the actual fuck is that shit, am i right? you’re telling me that i’m growing a living thing in my body that will then exist outside my body with its own separate sentience? you’re buggin’. that’s some extraterrestrial shit. gross. no thanks. unsubscribe. keep your bodily monstrosities to yourself.

regardless.) i cannot stop thinking about being in love with someone. finding someone to spend the rest of my life with. growing up and growing old with someone who wants me along for the ride. a partnership. my best friend. my once in a lifetime green flame.

but because i have spent so long being vehemently against the idea, i have to rewire my logically-inclined—as opposed to emotionally-inclined—brain to accept that this is something i actually do want. it’s not cringey or weird to want to be loved by someone. and i do deserve it. i think everyone deserves it. i used to think everyone but me deserved it. but i know that’s not true, i just need to convince myself.

all i really know is, i want to love and be loved, and i’ve never felt this way before. i’ve had crushes. i’ve longed for romance. i’ve—countless times—admitted my feelings for someone only to realize that i didn’t actually want to pursue them, i was just attracted to the attention they gave me. i didn’t want to date (i still don’t want to date. i want to be with someone), but i did want the attention, and now it’s hard to tell where that kind of interest ends and genuine interest begins. i don’t know if i will ever find out. it scares me. it makes me feel crazy (and i’m not entirely sure if it’s mutually exclusive from the kind of crazy of people in love).

jesus fucking christ.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

150 of 2023

Random Secrets from Others 6! [True or False]

Created by joybucket

These are random secrets from people that I've found on the Internet. Put an X by the secrets which you share, and elaborate if you wish. Have fun! :)

Someone told me I was ugly when I was in elementary school, and it's stuck with me all these years. Someone told me I was stupid when I was young, and I've struggled for years with feeling stupid because of it. I had a very violent childhood. I was kicked out of my house when I was 18 years old. My mom called me a piece of sh*t and told me to get the f*ck out of her house. The most painful thing I've heard was my mom asking me, "How could I ever be proud of you?" I attempted suicide, and my dad made fun of me for it afterward. I go to therapy. My mom told me that no one will ever love me unconditionally with my scars. The most painful thing I've ever heard was being told a loved one had died. I was told I was good for nothing. ....and it hurt at the time, but now I know it's not true. The person I loved the most told me he didn't love me anymore. The person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with told me he didn't love me anymore. The worst day ever for me was the day my ex dumped me. When I proposed to my ex, she laughed at me and then broke it off. I still remember the pain of being told my parents were dead. I was told I was not attractive, and that cut me deep. It still does to this day. The day my parents disowned me replays itself over and over again in my head; I can't get past it. My mom blamed me for my grandmother's death. I can't sleep without a nightlight. I'm scared that if I live my dream, I'll never find a guy who appreciates what I do. I'm afraid that I'll never find someone who can love me for me. I hate having to keep secrets. I've loved, but I've never been IN love. I fear I never will. I don't think I will ever find the perfect job. I'm scared I'll never be loved. As soon as I begin to think I can trust again, one little thing happens and throws me off balance again. The guy I dated is completely different now...I kinda miss the old him. Everyone I've ever cared about has left me physically and/or emotionally. Now I'm terrified about letting people into my life, because I don't want to miss them when they leave. All I want is one person to stay. I'm worried my boyfriend is cheating on me, but I would rather him be cheating on me than me have to try to live without him.... I don't want any more kids, but I'm afraid if I come out and say it my partner will leave me. I still believe in fairytale romances and happily-ever-after. I keep every boy at a distance in fear he might be just like you. I'm afraid I'm not good enough for anyone. I'm worried no guy will ever fall in love with me, because of the way I look. I wish I didn't suffer from depression. I hate that I still love you. Sometimes I have thoughts of suicide. If they found out my boyfriend wasn't a Christian, I'd have to dump him. I wish I could go to school without makeup and still feel beautiful. I felt my stressful desk job, and I don't think I've ever felt more free. I think I am finally starting to become myself. When I started smoking, I wanted to die. Now I want to live, but I can't quit. 🚬 I don't hurt myself anymore. I've never been so confused about my sexual identity. It makes me sad that we live in a world where people aren't free to believe whatever gets them through. I'm so scared I will never find the place that feels like home. It makes me happy to know that none of us get a how-to guide. We're all just kind of winging it. I pretended to be religious so a certain person would like me more. When I was a kid, my mom said, "I should have aborted you." The most painful thing I've been told was that my parents lost custody of me. The most painful thing I've been told was probably, "Go kill yourself." The most painful thing someone has ever told me was, "I cheated on you." The guy I liked in middle school called me a "fat pig." ....and ever since then I've been uncomfortable with my weight. The most painful thing I've ever been told was, "You have cancer." My mom read my journal and then insulted me and made fun of me afterward. My older sister got ran over by a truck when we were playing at a park when I was little. ....and my mom blamed me for her death. The most painful thing I've been told was when a family member asked me, "Who are you?" When I was hospitalized, the doctors said they weren't even sure how I was alive. ....and my mom never came to visit me. My dad told me, "You are the reason my marriage is falling apart." The most painful thing I've heard was my aunt and uncle telling my cousin they didn't love her anymore after she came out as bisexual. ....she was kicked out, and her parents told her they didn't love her anymore and that they hoped she would rot in hell. She was only 13. The most painful thing said to me was, "If you want to be dead so badly, why haven't you ended it already?" People tell me that I look good, but honestly, I don't believe it, because I have insecurity issues. I'm in my 20's, and I've never dated anyone, been in love, or had my first kiss. I am really obsessed with my figure and my body, and even though I know I should be proud of it, I'm not, and I'm really hard on myself. I think my boyfriend is cheating on me, but I'm still nice to him, and I don't know why. When I was a kid, my dad used to beat me. I'm happy. I don't know 100% where I'm going, but I'm ok. I've been in college for eight years now, and I still don't feel like I have any clue as to what I want to do. I dated a guy for a year, and I've been proposed to, but I've never been in love before. A guy recently slept with me, and then the day after, he told me he wanted to ask my friend out. I don't really trust people, and I have to convince myself that not everybody is evil. I once stole a car. 🚘 I love animals more than I love people. I'm vegan, but I occasionally eat dairy. When I was young, I used to pick my nose. 👃 I'm not wearing a bra right now. When I'm alone, I want to be around people, and when I'm around people, I want to be alone. I worry that I'm actually a really bad person, even though people say otherwise. I'm in love with a person that killed himself, and I fear I will never get over it. I feel uncomfortable with my family and even with my friends. I hate myself for being a bad person. I'm afraid of making mistakes, so I usually end up not doing things. I constantly feel like nothing is real. I never feel enough. I tell others to love themselves, but I can't tell myself the same thing. I always tell people I'm doing fine, but I'm not... I feel alone all the time. I never feel like anybody loves me or cares about me, and it's devastating sometimes. I know a lot of people, but I don't really have friends. ...but everyone thinks I do. I'm afraid of my death and the death of my loved ones. I'm happiest when I'm alone. I'm incredibly insecure with my relationships....I'm so scared of losing my friends. I don't go to sleep when I'm supposed to. I don't practice what I preach. I can't emotionally connect to anyone no matter how hard I try, and I feel like there is something wrong with me.

[batfam-slash]

Tim avoids thinking about his 30th birthday until Bruce reminds him that there are only six months to go.

“I know the last year has been difficult for you,” Bruce says quietly, “and I’m sorry to bring it up again…but we really need to find you a mate.”

Tim doesn’t want to think about this.

If Kon were still alive he wouldn’t have to think about this. He’d be happily mated to an alpha he loves, and he be complying with the stupid outdated law that requires omegas to be mated by their 30th birthday.

But Kon is dead and Tim is unmated, and his 30th birthday is in six months. So he does have to think about this.

If he doesn’t, he’ll be auctioned off to the first alpha that wants him, and in a city like Gotham that can only be bad. He’d like at least some say in the alpha he is to spend the rest of his life with.

The problem is, Tim is late to the party. Nearly all the other alphas he’s friends with or likes or respects are mated already. Tim has spent the last year mourning the man he loves - loved - and now he’s too late.

Kon isn’t here to save him.

“I know you won’t like this,” Dick says to Tim gently one afternoon, “but what about B? He’s unmated. He’d do it for you in a heartbeat if you asked. He’ll probably offer anyway if you don’t find someone soon. And I know it’s a little…ew, but it’s worth seriously considering if it’ll keep you from being mated to a stranger. At least you know B and can trust him. He’ll take care of you.”

Dick never had to worry of course. He had a string of alphas lined up to mate with him well before he was 30, and Jason was one of them.

Jason would have been Tim’s second choice after Kon.

Tim resigns himself to the fact that he’s probably going to end up mated to Bruce, and he should probably be grateful because it could be so much worse.

So he’s pleasantly surprised when Damian turns up at the WE offices and makes him an offer one afternoon.

“Father is going to ask you to mate with him before you turn thirty,” Damian tells Tim, green eyes focussed and serious. “But I wanted to offer myself as your alpha, if that’s something you might want to consider.”

Tim can only blink in surprise. “You want to be my alpha?”

“It’s not a matter of want, Drake. I’d want you to be free to choose your own alpha, but that’s not the world we live in.”

It may be the nicest thing Damian has ever said to Tim.

Damian has always behaved older than his years, but that seems particularly true now. He’s no longer the boy that used to taunt and argue with Tim constantly, but a man who’s earned Tim’s respect and is fiercely protective of his family.

“It’s a big offer to make,” Tim says gently. “You’d be giving up your life for me. You would never be able to mate with anyone else. You’re still so young-“

“I’m old enough to know what I’m offering. I’m not a child anymore.” Damian’s voice softens. “I just wanted to give you some sort of choice. It’s a mockery of a choice really, because you should be able to pick any alpha you want, or none at all, at a time of your choosing. But at least you can have some say in it. Me or Father. I won’t be offended if you choose Father, but know that I offer myself willingly and freely, and I will do my best to be a good mate for you.”

Tim can’t even look at him. “You’ll fall in love with the omega of your dreams one day and will hate me forever when you can’t have them.”

Damian snorts. “I already can’t have them. I’ve loved Richard since I was fourteen and I’ve had to watch him be mated to Todd. I’ve lost my beloved and you’ve lost yours. We are united in that at least.”

Tim doesn’t think he’s ever seen this level of vulnerability or openness from Damian before. He really is a man now.

“I guess we are.” Tim smiles tiredly. “Dami…you’re sure? This is huge. And let’s not forget you once described me as utterly repulsive.”

“Lies,” Damian replies softly. “I was a child then. You and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, but we’re pack. Richard may be the most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen, but you also come close.”

Tim laughs at that.

Damian spends perhaps another ten minutes reassuring Tim that he wants to do this before Tim accepts his offer.

“I will protect you,” Damian promises before he leaves, bringing Tim’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

And for the first time in over a year, Tim realises he’s sat through a whole conversation without thinking about Kon.