#it's so funny that i used to but not anymore use the same tags regularly

[isjkrowlingdeadnow]

July 4th

No

[nidmightcookies]

Know what I'm sick of? I'm sick of a few fans posting every other fucking day about how some other fans are fandoming wrong, because those fans don't like the same character/in the same way that they do. And somehow it becomes an issue of racism, because fuck if they'll allow stanning of a white guy (funny enough, the only time I've seen race mentioned), not on their fucking watch, nosirree.

And somehow it's the wrong-fandoming-fans' fault that you fine, upstanding citizen fans have to post about this shit AGAIN because it happened AGAIN and you know, I can't remember the last time I saw the outright racist posts in the tags, so I must be curating Tumblr extremely well in that regard (wait... is it ON Tumblr, or is it somewhere else on the internet, but you brought it HERE?), at least. But I still see the regularly scheduled "Fandom was mean again" posts, so. Maybe not that good.

I'm fucking sick of it, and I don't care if this upsets them/you too, so allow me to be specific. I've read too many hypocritical essays on how Izzy fans/Canyon are doing it wrong/never shut up/missing the point/bad people who should feel bad/promoting oppression of insert-group-here (FYI, I belong to some of those groups, so - fucking don't even start it with me) ... yet those essays always have dozens of notes of agreement on them. We all know -ism is bad, we all fucking know that, but I swear some of you act like you're getting points for how many times you point it out.

Judging by the dozens of notes, maybe you are.

I know mine is not going to be the popular opinion, I know I'll get shit, I know you'll dismiss me as a troll, I don't care. I'm not having fun in Tumblr OFMD fandom anymore. You've helped to make it not fun. This constant infighting has got to fucking stop.

As you(generic policing fans) like to point out: it's a SHOW. With characters written/acted to entertain us. Some of them are going to be your favorite, and some of them are not ( I fucking hate Calico Jack, some people love him, that's okay) .

Canyon? Same to you.

Is there another group, non-Ed-non-Izzy, that needs to hear this message? Listen the fuck up:

LIKE WHAT YOU LIKE.

LET PEOPLE LIKE THE SHIT THEY LIKE.

Believe it or not, these two things can be done simultaneously. Stop reading shit into what other people are doing/saying, fucking ignore/block them if they bother you so goddamn much, and get the fuck on with enjoying the fandom the way you want to enjoy it. Let's all just fucking love us some gay pirates. It's what we're all here for.

...and if the way you want to enjoy it, is to ruin other people's enjoyment, then you can just fuck right the hell off. Thank you for your cooperation.

[babyseraphim]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @emryses, thank you for always tagging me in such fun things!!

1. How many works do you have an AO3? 11

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 122,112

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I write pretty much exclusively for Dead Boy Detectives, but I have a oneshot for Marvel from 2017, and an unfinished AU for Critical Role that I'll probably never go back to

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

By Lantern's Light

my healing needed more than time

foolish flame

The Case of the Selkie's Skin

Overloaded

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do when I have the time and energy. All my free time is kind of eaten up by writing the fics themselves, so unless the comment is really long or really funny, I usually don't respond. But I appreciate every comment just the same, they are what keep me motivated to write

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I honestly don't really do fics with angsty endings? Because all of my fics are super angsty in general, so I like to end things on a positive note. I guess the closest would be The Case of the Selkie's Skin because there's not really any closure there, they just move onto the next case. But even that one still has a cathartic ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

foolish flame for sure. A lot of my fic endings tend to be bittersweet in some way, but this one was a pure fluffy ending

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah. I don't think I've been regularly posting fics long enough for that.

9. Do you write smut?

I have written smut exactly once, and while it was a really cathartic/rewarding experience, I don't know if I'll ever do it again. It's a little too far out of my comfort zone.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, crossovers aren't really my thing, though I have toyed with the idea of writing a dead boy detectives/pushing daises crossover just for the hell of it. But it probably won't ever make it onto paper.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and the idea of it kinda scares me lol

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

Literally changes day to day. I think kirk/spock is the one that will truly own my heart forever, but payneland really is the perfect ship for me (hence all the fanfiction)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Case of Eros's Arrow, which is sitting with 4 chapters on AO3. I still like the concept of it, and my OCs in it, but my writing has changed so much since I started it and I just don't really feel connected to the work itself anymore. Which is a shame, because I left my readers on a total cliffhanger. Whoops.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do alright with descriptive prose (or I enjoy writing it, at the very least). I'm also good at worldbuilding and coming up with fun/creative plots.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Transitions between scenes, and general construction of dialogue (though I've gotten better at dialogue over recent months). I can also get a little ramble-y when it comes to introspection, though I'm usually pretty good about cutting it all down by the time the final draft is done.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't have many thoughts on it. I only speak english, and the only language I've ever used in my fics besides english is Latin (for magic purposes).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Supernatural, I think? It was OC fanfiction, I still have it floating around this blog somewhere

20. Favorite fics you've written?

dye it all, rosary I think is my favorite right now. I don't know what the fuck I was on when I wrote that fic, but I wrote chapter 1 in one sitting, and then chapter 2 over the course of a few months. It turned out so much better than I ever could have hoped, and I just truly love it so much.

I also love my healing needed more than time because it has all the stuff that I love in it (magic, lesbians, dogs, kids, and other fun stuff to come). I'm also just really proud that I've managed to stick with it as long as I have; it's the first piece of writing over 14k that I've ever written in my life.

I tag: @many-gay-magpies, @deadtwinksdetectiveagency, @williamvapespeare, and @the-ipre!

[hypokeimena]

on an unrelated note, if you've been using xkit / tumblr savior for a long time, i heartily encourage you to try out tumblr's native filtering system, which is excellent.

IT WORKS ON MOBILE! (unlike browser extensions)

it's located on little person outline -> (gear) SETTINGS on dashboard or person outline -> gear (settings) -> general settings -> content you see on mobile.

this will turn any post of any length into a little block that's like "post blocked for containing [thing you have filtered]" and then you can decide if you want to click to see or if you want to simply move along.

you can filter tags - this will block a post if your friend OR THE OP used a specific tag.

super, super helpful way to find posts made by t/erfs that had been circulating unnoticed - if you block tags like 'g/ender critical' and 't/erfsafe' (with no slash, i am putting the slash in so this post will appear to people who might otherwise want to filter that content!), that'll be blocked on tumblr if OP tagged it that, even if the post is now circulating in genuinely trans-inclusive spaces.

also helpful if your friends have their own weird tags for stuff like one of my friends posts a lot of long screenshots of books and has a tag for that that i have filtered because the posts are always really long and i hate scrolling past them when i'm not in the mood to read. or one of my friends is a wonderful person and i absolutely hate one of her major ships, but she uses a weird individualized tag for that fandom so i just get to avoid her posting about that thing and still see other fandom content for a fandom i don't hate.

this one is going to filter things that are exactly the same as what you put in the filter field. that means that you may have to filter "content", "content cw", "content /" separately, but you can literally add as many versions as you need to. my friends all have slightly different systems for tagging and ykw? it matters more to me that they are consistent in whatever way works for them, so that i can filter what i need to filter, than that everyone uses MLA vs Chicago tagging style.

you can also just filter content. this is for any word that appears in the body of a post (or perhaps also tags? not actually sure)

PARTICULARLY USEFUL WHEN YOU ARE UPSET BY SOMETHING THAT ISN'T REGULARLY TAGGED

for instance: there are certain users who have a tendency to show up in reblog chains. they have consistently rancid takes and annoy me. i filter their url, and then i don't have to see those anymore! or: i know they're going to be in there and when i click through to the post it's not an unpleasant surprise anymore.

for instance: sometimes people tag politics but not specific issues, or you filter the tag "#politics" but then find it hard to click through, expecting funny uk prime minister goofs and instead get posts about genuinely bad things happening. you can instead filter words or phrases like 'crisis,' 'abortion,' 'election' and decide what you wanna see

tumblr's filtering has gotten so so so much better, it's extremely usable, it's cheap and it's easy and it's free to add as many words as you need to. literally no one can stop you and no one is going to notice. you can do anything you want.

[xomoosexo]

https://www.tumblr.com/xomoosexo/727569181743136768/tubbos-live-today-even-tho-he-said-he-wasnt-going?source=share

In regards to the tags : I think it may be bc they simply don't realize a diss is a diss and that it can be taken as such. The pandemic and the DSMP era brought many streamers together and they used to diss each other regularly (on twt, on stream...) bc there was this inate camadery and everyone knew it was jokes or the underlying "I respect them as colleagues and person". But it's not the case now.

Take Tommy's jokes about Dream. They were pretty funny bc people who watched him, as Dream fans, thought that there was still friendship behind those jokes. Now that they're, at best, coworkers, they're just mean spirited and insults.

Jack saying this about Beast is fine as long as we know they're still cool with each others : otherwise it's just freely offered critics and a personnal judgement (which is why they both tweeted they worked things out).

But not knowing is a fleemsy excuse. It's time they realize that yeah, those are diss, not jokes and that it's not unreasonnable or "lacking humor" to get offended or making it into a big deal

Feel free not to answer this directly (or at all lol), I don't want to spark anything. But it's getting tiring to hear criticism hidden behind jokes or "small comment" so people can't return fire

yeah I don't think tub bo realizes that things aren't like they used to be. that 1, everyone isn't friends anymore and the same teasing holds a lot more weight now and 2, that him and tommy are adults now. they aren't 16 anymore. they aren't the underdog kids punching up at the bigger guy big youtubers. they are just like all other established adult streamers/youtubers. and when they, or other big creators make jokes at the expense of another creator- they see that and it doesn't seem friendly because it doesn't seem like punching up.

[magnetarmadda]

20 questions for fic writers

thanks @organchordsandlightning for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 

85, 1 HFTH and 84 TMA

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 

314,915

3. What fandoms do you write for? 

I've got a lot of wips for a variety of fandoms that haven't yet seen the light of day. TMA most prominently of course, HFTH (and a few wips in the back burner), Murderbot Diaries, Star Trek, Sherlock Holmes, Tell No Tales podcast, and Mistholme Museum

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Lucky Stars

Mysterious Love

Here to Forever

Terror in the Archives

My Arms Around You

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do, although not nearly as regularly as I used to. It can take me months to respond, but I always will!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? 

This Is Our Last Goodbye - Jon leaves Martin in the tunnels without saying goodbye

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

Okay, actually, the one I think has the happiest ending hasn't been posted yet (upcoming for jmart week 2024), but this one is in the same vein of healing and recovery and finding happiness after an unimaginable tragedy - I Have So Much of You In My Heart

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Every once in a while, though it's so rare

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

I do, yes, but not often. It's definitely very vanilla, and it almost always portrays some of my own experiences with asexuality and desire

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? 

I don't, but not because I don't like them. I just personally find it hard to write them--one of those kinds of fics that don't store well in my brain. I've read quite a few I really love, though!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 

I have, but it's been a long time now since that happened, and I don't know of any of my recent fics being stolen

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

I haven't, I don't think

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

Yes! I co-wrote all the time with my best friend when we were growing up, and it was a great experience

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? 

Genuinely, I don't know. The ship that's seemed to move into my brain forever is JonMartin, and I do desperately love them, but there are plenty of other ships I truly love but don't engage with in a fandom sense

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? 

I have a couple that I just lost the ideas for (my memory is like a sieve anymore, thanks brain fog), and I may not finish them because I'll be unable either recall where I wanted them to go or find endings that feel meaningful/in line with what I've already written

16. What are your writing strengths? 

I'm great with dialogue and with passing on emotions to readers, and I think I'm pretty funny and good with metaphors and descriptions

17. What are your writing weaknesses? 

I really struggle with writing action and with pacing out stories in a way that lets all of the characters grow along with the narrative

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 

I have no issue with it, but I'm not sure it's something I've done? Partly because I'm only fluent in English and my smattering of German and French wouldn't be very helpful with that lol

19. First fandom you wrote for? 

Encyclopedia Brown, actually, and I'm sure my mom still has the stories somewhere

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

So, caveat--this is the fic I'm most proud of having finished and shared, making it my favorite for very personal reasons. I started i am loving myself out of the dark as both a response to @probsnothawkeye's coffee shop AU series and as a way to process some of my own trauma, and in the year since I finished it, I've actually used pieces of it as touchstones on my healing journey

On that very light note lol, here's a handful of tags, if you'd like to do it: @therealandian, @cirrus-grey, @ollieofthebeholder, and anyone else who'd like to share about their fics!

[symeraid-s]

2022 Retrospective: TV-Shows/Movies

I didn’t really watch any anime this year, so I took all the anime categories out of this retrospective, because I can’t just talk about Spy x Family and Chainsaw Man. So, instead, here are the 2022 shows/movies I watched quickly reviewed.

Zettai BL Naru Sekai vs Sekai BL Narutakunai ni Otoko/The Man Who Defies the World of BL Season 2

This show still is hilarious. I mean, sure, I was hoping for a bit more romance between Mobu and Kikuchi, because they are adorable, and I ship them so hard. But what we got was still good. The last episode of this season had me rolling in laughter and tears. The confession-scene in this show is one of my favourite BL scenes as of now and I rewatch it regularly. Now I only need a season 3 with some actual romance for Mobu and Kikuchi. Come on, don’t leave me hanging, please.

KinnPorsche the Series

Well, this is the big one. Mannner of Death walked, so that this show could run. Some of the scenes in this show are seriously close to pornographic. I still really enjoyed the show, though there were some moments where I thought that it dropped the plot. Mile and Apo are really great together though, so that doesn’t really matter. The fanfictions of this show are really great, and I hope to add some of my own in this new year (most likely not…). Though one thing that is a massive turn off for me is how the fandom baby meow meows Vegas and shits on Kinn. Like, why is there a “Kinn Apologist” tag? Do I really need to apologise for liking a fictional character who is supposed to be morally grey? No, I will not. Kinn is my favourite character, there, I said it. This show also has Jeff Satur in it which is always a plus. And this is also probably just the Ingredients fan in me talking, but wasn’t Gameplay supposed to play Porchay? Why isn’t he? I mean, Barcode is great as Porchay, but he and Jeff by far don’t have the same chemistry that Jeff and Gameplay have.

Old Fashioned Cupcake

Yeah, I think this is my favourite show of the year. The writing is amazing, the acting is fantastic, and the characters are great. The only problem I can see, is that there are only five episodes of this wholesome show. It tells you that even if you’re nearing 40 (which is apparently already considered old) you can always find yourself and that it’s never too late. Kouhei Takeda is absolutely stellar in this show. Funny thing about that is that I watched Kamen Rider Build in 2021, after watching Zettai BL 1 and now three of the main riders have starred in BL Shows and I can’t believe it’s a coincidence anymore.

Kei x Yaku

Another BL with Atushiro Inukai, who is on his steady way to become one of my favourite Japanese actors. It’s a mafia drama bromance, leaning more towards the mafia drama than the bromance. It’s basically Kinnporsche, but with more political intrigue and no porn. Well… on screen at least.

The Umbrella Academy Season 3

This whole season could have been solved in one episode if there were some communication. That’s the most I can say about the story. It’s good. I really liked this season. I really liked the Sparrows. Sloane is a cool character and I really liked Sparrow!Ben. He just such a petty gay throughout the entire season and I love it. The rest of the Sparrows were cool, though I would have loved to get some more development for them and not just meet them for three episodes. I’m really looking forward to the final season coming this year.

Sandman

Yes, this show is amazing, what else can I tell you? The characters are great, the writing is great, it’s a good adaption that uses it’s medium to its fullest. I mean, it’s written by Neil Gaiman, what more can we want, am I right?

Wednesday

Maybe Tim Burton is getting back on track. At least somewhat. There are parts of this show I really enjoy. Jenna Ortega is amazing as Wednesday and seeing her energy clash with Enid’s is one of the highlights of this show. They are cute and I ship them, and they should have been together, mostly because the rest of her love interests are boring guys. I really can’t imagine Wednesday with any guy. Or girl for that matter. I always thought she was Ace. But yeah, make them lesbians, Netflix. I also really like the aesthetic of this show. Though there is one aspect that I just can’t get behind: The rest of the Addams Family. Morticia as a character is fine, though she should have been played by Christina Ricci, it would have been a great nod. My problem mainly lies with Gomez. And no, it’s not because he’s not conventionally attractive. He’s just so slimy and pathetic and that’s not Gomez at all. He needs to be charming. Also, the Addams are not bad parents.

Usogui

I watched this movie on a 14-hour plane ride from Costa Rica back home, when I was unable to sleep. And for what it was, I really enjoyed it. When I got home, I googled the movie and found out it was a live action adaption of a manga. It didn’t dim my enjoyment. I watched the movie again with my sister just for this review and I have to say: For what it is, it’s not bad. It does condense about 100 chapters into two hours, so a lot of stuff gets lost. But, and this is something I can always kind off appreciate about Live Action Adaptions (except Death Note): Most of the time, they get you interested in the source material. I started reading the manga after watching the movie and I do not regret it. The manga is absolutely fantastic. Madarame Baku is one of my new favourite characters. And Ryusei Yokohama is a great actor to play him.

[mosviqu]

IT PISSES ME OFF SO MUCH AND I HATE ALL OF THE THINGS I GOT TO KNOW ABOUT THIS ERA THEIR HARD WORK IS NOT APPRECIATED ENOUGH WAHHH

i didn't even have the motivation to check out the last song from them ngl💔💔very sad about them but maybe i will like it after watching music shows lmao i wont give up (fully) on the 03liners💔 WAITTTT TRUE HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT INTAK WHAT THE HECK I WAS SO HAPPY ABOUT HIM (and same i saw that they are having a cb and i was like:o i forgot about u guys:o) AN AMAZING CREW!!!! also would selfishly add enhypen sunoo he is a lovely 03 liner as well🥹 (idk know mcnd☹️☹️ i heard like 2-3 of their songs but i never checked them out☹️ BUT IM HAPPY THERE IS AN 03 LINER IN THERE!!!)

IT IS IMPORTANT BUT IM STILL NOT SURE IF ITS 100% TRUE😭 i love keeho so much like that was the point where i was like yeah u are going to be my fav from here!! seeing the screenshots of it still makes me laugh so much

i can imagine that😭 my sister was in the exact same situation as u💀

IT WAS!!!! dino is lovely and i would love to see u being his body guard ngl🤣 I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY THEY DIDNT DO IT💔💔just such a big heartbreak💔💔ALSO TALKING ABOUT TREASURE DID U HEAR THE SNIPPET HE POSTED OF A SONG??? it sounds very great imo

I CAN SO RELATE TO THAT!!! english is so hard without english classes i never realized that till now💔 i only talk in english with my sister but it's a mess i even just struggle to put together sentences now😭 writing my replies takes so much brain cells from me so i always just pray that u will get what i'm trying to say even if it's not correct lmao🥸 RECORDING VLOGS IS SO MUCH FUN!! i did it for a while and it was so amazing so i recommend it only sent them to my bestie but it was actually so funny😭 THE BRITISH PEOPLE GOT US REAL HARD💔

(AHHH THANK U SO MUCH;-; I APPRECIATE IT!!! HANBIN!!! I HOPE U WILL HAVE MORE MOMENTS OVER HIM LMAO HE IS VERY GREAT😌 although be careful with asking me about zbone members cuz idk three of them;-; but working on it🤞 and u can tag me or message me ofc i dont mind🥹💕) (liebestraum anon🥳💕)

LITERALLYYYY i saw a tiktok where it compared all the other dances where its a member x woman (ten or baek) and it said "so this is okay, but this isnt?" showing enha and the comments were like "we are the problem" LMAO so at least they are self-aware.

no because i was really disappointed too >:(( but the title track still slaps i said what i said. watched them perform it too and they have cute bubbly vibes i am heartbroken for the lack of interest from my side. NO BC WHEN I STARTED BIASING INTAK AND REALISED HE WAS A 03 LINER I HAD A MENTAL BREAKDOWN. ((still am a jiung girlie at heart tho). i am really excited for their cb tho it sounds amazing!!! HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT SUNOO WHAT THE FUCK AAAAAAAAAA IM SO SORRY he's my fav 03 liner. ((there are actually 2 03 liners in mcnd but i forgot the other one LMAO i honestly cant remember their names anymore but i had a very short mcnd phase lol. all i know is that i'd die for minjae thats all)

i would honestly be a good bodyguard bc i have a lot of rage in me. like i could fully fight someone if i was mad enough LMAOO. everything for dino baby <3 I DID SEE THE SNIPPET I LOST MY SHIT LOWKEY HIGHKEY I AM SO EXCITED AAAAAAA

i mean english isnt really hard for me if we are talking abt writing and stuff but speaking out loud is more difficult if you don't regularly do it >:( dont worry we are on the same wavelength i always know what u mean w your replies AHAH sometimes i speak in eng w my roommate bc she is an english major (she only picked the major bc of me and then i ended up doing psychology so i owe her this bc her english isnt as good as mine) I USED TO RECORD VLOGS W MY BROTHER but we never posted them thank god. i'm still down to do it honestly its so fun LMAO

hanbin.......i looked up his name on tiktok once and now my fyp is filled with him and im so in love he's so cute and adorable and sweet like i saw clips of ppl giving him letters and how much he loves getting them and even asked if anyone has letters for him please zb1 fans give him letters!!!!!! no bc i only know ricky, hanbin, zhang hao and matthew :,) but the more i see them on my fyp the more i am convinced to stan once they debut like i legit debated on watching boys planet yesterday bc i lowkey like survival shows but when i found out the eps are 2 hours long i decided to just....not...do that...

also a small update on the tbz recs i did some progress and i really liked diamond life and survive the night :p i have like 11 songs left from the ones u recommended LMAO but yeah i loved those two

[hyunsuks-beanie]

Pumpkin

Pairing: Mashiho x gn. reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Content Warnings: Long distance-ish au; established relationship; pining; mentions of crying; use of the words "Baby," "pumpkin," "angel" and "princess"

Part of: Mellow's You've Got A Letter Event

Mellow speaks: This is for my super lovely angel, Kari!!!! Thank you so much for being so so so nice to me love, and it really was a pleasure writing this for you. I know the Mashidam hiatus has hit you hard, so I hope this acts as somewhat of a relief to the heartbreak. I love you, do enjoy!

Also, I decided to go with Mashiho since he's actually away from Korea for the time being, while Yedam hasn't actually gone anywhere and so missing Y/N wouldn't make much sense lol.

Tagging: @yedammi @axartia @sweethyuka @ivyvesisi @yunhorights

Hey pumpkin, How are you doing?? 

I know. You're probably thinking, "That's what I should be asking you, Mashi," while shaking your head, right? But that's okay, because it's what you ask me every single time we talk anyway. And that's why I figured that the least I can do is ask you the same, for once. 

I hope you're doing good, and I hope you're taking care of yourself and eating and sleeping on time even without me forcing you to. I mean, yeah, I do call you up during mealtimes and at night just to remind you to do the bare minimum for yourself, but it's not the same as grabbing your arm or lifting you off your feet just to carry you to the dining table or the bed, you know?

Oh and, how are your classes going? Please don't say, "They're being a pain" again, because that's what your probably told me the last time I asked you on FaceTime. I know they're a pain, but it's a pain that you're very much capable of bearing, because you're my fighter baby, right? I just hope you're doing your work consistently and not overworking your cute little body too much. Even if something seems hard the first time you read it, I want you to step back and give it a rest for a while, instead of working yourself till you burn out. 

And now, you better not go all "Aww you care so much!" on me, because both of us know how you care just as much when I'm practicing too hard and not resting. 

I'm doing well here too, helping mum and dad around in the house and playing with Kotetsu in my free time. I'm regularly working out too, just so I can still be hot when you see me again. But don't you worry my angel, because I'm still taking things easy so as to not strain my body too much, even when I'm dancing. 

Wow.....writing a letter is so much harder than I had thought. But I guess it can't be helped since most of the things I'm telling you, I tell you every day anyway. But it's just that....there's still something I haven't said much on call or on FaceTime, because I was shy of seeing or hearing your reaction. And that's why I decided to send you a letter in the first place, so I can show you what's going on inside my head without being shy. 

So, the thing is....I just miss you so much. This is the first time we've been away for so long, and I'm not liking it one bit. Being with my family is great, it really is. But that doesn't mean I've completely forgotten about life in Seoul, about the members and most importantly, about you. It's just not the same without your form sitting on the counter while I cook something for you, and it's not same without having you lean into my shoulder whenever you feel some extra love for me. 

I miss going on dates with you, and I miss sneaking out late at night just to see the surprised look on your face. I really needed this break, heaven knows I did. But I just wish you could be here with me right now. I need to hold you in my arms so bad, and I need to kiss you and call you all the pet names that you know I cringe at. I want to feel your hands running through my hair, and I want to feel your heart beating against mine. 

It's been less than a month and I already miss you so much it's not even funny anymore. I know I'm supposed to be resting, but then again, how I am I supposed to do that when all I can think about is you? I don't want to hurt you by saying this, but I think you deserve to know of all the tears I've shed because of how lonely I feel without having your laughter ringing right next to me. 

Miss, want, need. None of these words is enough to describe what I've been feeling these days, it's like a void in my heart that will only be filled when you're in my arms. I know we can't possibly meet any time soon, and I know it's selfish to even think like this. And yet, I can't help but wonder what it would be life if you could come here to Mie, even if it's just just 2 days. 

Gosh, I'm actually crying while writing this, so please don't mind if some of the words get smudged off. I'm crying so hard right now, and still, all I'm wishing is that you won't cry while you read it. 

I'm sorry for this princess, I really am. But being without you is getting under my skin now, and I just had to let you know. 

Wiping your tears away, 

With love

Mashiho

[chipper-asks]

Any tips on how to grow your own blog by chance?

Aah man I've written a response to this kind of question many times but I always delete it because I'm afraid of coming off as self centered or arrogant, but I definitely have some tips on what works and doesn't work (on tumblr.)

I will say that I never believed I would get to the "Big Fandom Artist" stage. I've seen people drop my name in conversations or descriptions and just assume other people know who I am and that's still incredibly wild to me. I never really pushed to get a big blog it really just happened.

But! I do have rules and personal guidelines that might help if you are thinking of actively building your blog!

1: Keep personal information and vent posts to a minimum

It should go without saying that its not a good thing for your personal information to be on the internet. Once its out there its near impossible to erase. This is for your own safety.

Vent posts give out more information than you might think, but also some people who are following you may be going through difficult times themselves. I go on the internet to get away from my stressors and problems and i've specifically catered my dashboard to reflect my desires. I have no doubt others are the same.

I've unfollowed mutuals because they vented too frequently. I enjoyed what they made! But it stressed me out to read their vent posts because I couldn't help. I realized it was taking a toll on my mental health and I made the tough decision to unfollow.

It is very tempting to vagueblog because its nice getting out all the angry feelings, but a blog with thousands of people following it is not the place to do it.

2: Shitpost vs Quality Foley

I could go into a massive essay on this alone (ive even written out an outline already) but i'll keep it as brief as I can.

Throughout my time on Tumblr I’ve seen a number of posts of artists complaining about the lack of notes on their serious work compared to the abundance of notes on their shitposts.

This is because Tumblr IS a place of shitposts. It's like squeezing a clown nose and expecting it not to honk.

However! It's more complicated than that and i've broken it up into four parts organized by importance.

A. Relevance/Meta: Is it something that people are already familiar with? Is it something that's currently going on?

People want to enjoy things they're already familiar with. For example, people getting into Hollow Knight are more likely to follow a blog that posts HK content regularly over a HK blog that posted a picture of Grimm once and then is full of original content. It's not that people don't like your original stuff, its just not what they're looking for.

If you like striking while the iron is hot, meta jokes are the way to go. Making references to games like Among Us during the height of its popularity for example would get you lots of notes.

B. Hilarity

Is it funny? Does it subvert expectations?

Shitposts will always be more popular than a well drawn post. People like to laugh and share things that laugh. A cool, well drawn post is more often than not met with a "hm, cool. scrolls down."

This is a polished comic I made 10 months ago. I'm very proud of it and i'm pleased with the amount of attention it got. It took me 2 days to finish.

This is a shitpost I made 3 years ago that I still haven't been able to top. It took me 30 minutes to make.

That's not to say a well drawn post can get popular! It's just that people enjoy a good laugh over something shiny. This is a factor of knowing your audience. Some things land better than others and you'll be better off if you just roll with what you get.

I will say tho I appreciate the people who reblog my oc posts 200x more than people who reblog my shitposts and fanart. Those are quality followers and you must cherish them.

C. Appeal

Is it cute? Is it fluffy? Is the design easy to understand? Does it make people emotional? Is it angsty? Is it relatable?

People like cute shit. People like things that make them hurt (albeit not too much). People like things that they can see themselves in.

D. Skill

There is some merit in being good at what you do. People do like funny things more than shiny things, but shiny things are cool too.

If you post things that are funny? You're normal horoscopes.

If you post things that are well drawn? (its really telling that I can't think of someone right off the top of my head)

If you post things that are funny AND well drawn? Well then you're iguanamouth

3: Know your boundaries.

There's a difference between being understanding/tagging things correctly and catering to people who want you to be someone else.

I know that many people get upset with others who gender the vessels in Hollow Knight. While it doesn't bother me, I can recognize the misgendering of vessels as a source of dysphoria and I tag accordingly.

If someone comes into my inbox and tells me to stop drawing a character because they're "problematic," I'm just going to block them and go about my day.

4: This is your blog, its your rules.

I'm apologetically myself on my blog. I post what I want and what inspires me. The reason why I have so many AUs is because its my blog and I like AUs. If a large portion of the fandom doesn't like my AUs, its their loss, I make great AUs.

In fact, its just a good mindset in general to have. If some people don't like what you make, its not your problem. It makes you happy and it makes hundreds of others happy then continue to do what you do. It's impossible to have a large following and not have someone who dislikes you purely out of spite.

Make stuff for yourself, not because you want numbers.

5: Don't feed the trolls.

If someone sends you hate, take a picture of it, share it with your friends, laugh, block the person, delete message, move on with your life.

It's really fun to feed the trolls, but feeding trolls attracts more trolls and soon its not fun anymore. Just laugh when you get your first anon hate, maybe frame it in your room, and don't even acknowledge them with a "fuck you."

6: Recognize your position.

This is more advice for when you do get a big blog. You get to a point when you realize you have a portion of your audience who value much more than a regular human being and are willing to take up arms for you.

Do. Not. Weaponize. Your audience.

It's incredibly shitty and can ruin peoples lives.

7: Post Frequency/Schedule

Now this is one I can't do. It's normal for me to become incredibly active for 2 weeks and then end up posting nothing for a month. I don't have the patience to build up a queue of new things.

However! If you have more discipline than me, posting daily or twice a week builds up anticipation for your next post. You're dependable and people have the chance to look forward to seeing something from you on their dash on Friday.

Thats all I can think of so far.

There's no TL;DR you'll miss my important advice within these tips.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

mila…the way that i am constantly on edge in the best way every single time you post a new chapter is just such a huge testament to your writing! it’s so clever and cool how you weave all the history in, especially since we aren’t seeing anya or bradley in the same timeline? and the fact that they both took a moment to stop and think about each other’s birthdays really put the biggest smile on my face! much much more below 💕

also girl you have my hackles raised already with the mention of that ambassadors daughter ☹️.

Experimentally, you rub your fingers over the shell of your ear; you just want to assure yourself regularly that you can still hear something from that side. It feels odd. You can feel your touch but can barely hear your fingers rubbing against the skin. It’s like the touch is disembodied from the rest of you like it’s not really happening. - in her george bailey era, poor thing! i like how you describe this “like it’s not really happening”

On the right, the skin feels like it always did — on the left, it’s like a flame licked its way up around your jaw, stopping just short of your temple. - oh honey 🥺 the ‘flame licking’ up her body is such a powerful visual!

You hurried to get dressed again, sobbing. You’ve still barely scraped together the courage to see how badly scarred you really are. - you got me crying with this one. i just wanna give her a hug, i know she’s going to be deep into the self loathing/feelings of inadequacy for awhile

But you are lucky, they tell you. - just because you’re lucky doesn’t mean you can’t complain or get mad sweet girl

You trace your thumb over the nameplate, every bump, and ridge exactly as you remember — it’s like a weight is lifting off your shoulders. You can’t keep the fond smile breaking out over your face as you realize it’s Bradley's birthday today. - and it’s his birthday!!! i started crying again knowing she thought she lost it!!? but then emil calls her naive and maybe she is a little? but i don’t believe it

Somewhere, wrapped in warm, hazy dreams, wrapped in the fantasy of Bradley, it was all so clear. The words came so easily. - that dream of theirs was so beautiful, i kept thinking about it since the last chapter. and she loves him! she really really loves him!

How many times has Bradley said those exact words? How many girls has he promised the exact same thing? A shiver involuntarily, like your body is physically trying to rid you of the thought. - no no no he loves you! he loves you anya! you’re special

Emil will never be able to see you as anything more than the little sister figure that tagged along, someone to project his guilt onto. - screw him! like anya said, she got bradley out! she did all the work, her and bradley were a team! (also love that you keep repeating the ‘aren’t you lucky?’ it’s really clever

“If he’s still alive, he has long forgotten about you.” - 1) no he has not! and 2) i had a brief fear that when emil came to pick anya up he was going to ask if she wanted to get married? like let him take care of her or some sort of misplaced chivalry? very glad he did not! (though i knew she’d say no) this is so much worse!

It’s Christmas, after all. That also makes it your birthday. - i love that they both had this same thought! they both stopped for a moment and recognized each other’s birthdays

Your handkerchief is safely tucked away in his footlocker, together with the things dearest to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of carrying it around anymore; he feels like he tainted the luck you bestowed on him. He doesn’t deserve it. But he also doesn’t want to — can’t — let you go. - oh bubs!!! this breaks my heart! 🥺 it’s funny, she was without his bracelet for so long and now she has it and he used to have her handkerchief on him all the time and now he has the physical distance from it

But Mav completely takes out of the equation that Bradley might not want to go. // “But I will respectfully disagree with Maverick,” Simpson’s tone has an edge to it now — there’s no secret that those two don’t really see eye to eye on most things. - okay getting an ally in cyclone! i love it! i feel like bradley and cyclone actually do get along really well all things considered even in canon? they’re both normally pretty even keeled? and obviously bradley does NOT want to go to nevada (first of all ewww) because he needs to be in virginia beach for anya can find him duh

“The trial at Nuremberg has started recently. If you are ready to cut your teeth on red tape and navigate brass politics, Rooster, that is the place to be now.” - mila you have the biggest fucking brain ily like just how you weave everything in here? it’s so cool and flows so effortlessly. and also…europe!!! bradley!!! go get your girl!

How can he explain that you are the only person he is sure he’d ever marry? // If he could follow his heart, he’d be on the first boat back to Europe - oh bubba 🥺 i’m gonna cry again! fuck emil for his shitty comments

It’s like his vision is glazed over as he goes through the motions — flip the page, move his eyes across, flip the page, move his eyes across, flip the page, move his eyes — no, flip back. - the ‘no, flip back’ made me think he was subconsciously looking for her? was he?

But it’s not even that. Just above that sleeve, a bracelet peeks out. A chain too chunky, plain, and loose for any piece of jewelry on a wrist so fine. A round plate at the center of the chain, its weight pulling the chain slightly askew — it’s too small to tell if there is anything written on there. But Bradley doesn’t need to see it. Because he knows what it says; after all, it’s his. - STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!!! THEY ARE SO INVISIBLE STRING CODED!! GET OUT! this is such a clever way to have him find out she was still alive!!

Unceremoniously, Bradley shoots up from this chair, tearing the page from the magazine before quickly folding it and tucking it in his pocket. - HE RIPS IT OUT!!!! BRADLEY!!! IT’S GOING IN THE FOOTLOCKER

But now, he seems to oscillate between apathy and what Natasha can only describe as stupidity. - he def has some form of ptsd and depression, the recklessness and apathy combo is killer

“I never told her I love her..” // “I left her… there,” He sighs heavily. “I had to — but I could have said it. I don’t even know why… I just didn’t.” - BUBS 🥺🥺🥺 sweet boy! oh i wanna hug him so bad! and i totally get why natasha says what she says since she really doesn’t Know? she doesn’t get why he’s so torn up about it, what’s some other girl in the long list of bradley’s past? but it still hurt hearing her say it

“You also have a commendation letter from the president for your service to the republic during the war. It has me intrigued.” - BADDIE!!! icon! this is so cool, how did they find out what she did?

“And now that I see you…” Mrs. Parker’s gaze lingers on the left side of your face. “Well, let’s just say that you’re not likely to attract my husband’s wandering eyes,” - oh 🥺

Of course, re-enrolled the moment you could. You just couldn’t even make it through the first week. Maybe you’ve built it up too much in your head. - oooo this is really interesting! i’m glad she at least tried to reenroll, but totally get that she feels out of place now? like it almost seems naive or childish? if that makes sense?

It’s ultimately, ironically, you suppose, what brings you to the residence of the U.S. ambassador and why the ambassador’s wife seems to be grilling you for her own amusement. - oh gee i wonder if a distinguished american soldier would ever meet the us ambassador to a major european country 👀 (i can imagine it going so many different ways tbh both sweet and sad)

There’s only one thing you want. That dream. Bradley and the beach. - oh sweet girl, you’re gonna get it! i know you are!

“Perfect — my daughter will be joining on our posting here, and she tends to be demanding about the hems of her dresses,” - oh no. oh no no no no no nooooooooooo noo mila i can’t handle it if this becomes an issue i really can’t!

You can’t fool yourself into thinking, you wouldn't even dare to dream, that Bradley would still want you. Who would? It doesn’t matter. He deserves to be happy, even if that’s without you. - oh i know my heart is going to get broken with all this self loathing 🥺 sweet girl he loves you! i can just picture him seeing her again and cradling the back of her head and pulling her in for a hug and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear on her left side and just shushing her and making sure she knows how much he loves her 🥺 anyway i’m gonna cry now

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 18 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 9.4k

Index | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

Library

Chapter 18: You Keep Coming Back Like A Song

Sometimes, it’s like a high-pitched whine breaking through radio static.

Sometimes, it’s a rumble, like water in a big pot coming to a rolling boil.

Other times, it sounds just like an air raid alarm, like a time capsule breaking open of that moment of chaos and screams before all the sound suddenly falls still.

And then it’s back to that strange buzz, or fizz, like gas escaping from a poorly sealed beer bottle.

But it’s always there.

They tell you, you are lucky. 

You didn’t die, and the war is over.

Gently, you brush your hair, trying to ignore how distorted and distant the sound of the teeth of the comb sound as they glide through the strands. It almost disappears in the permanent noise in your left ear. Experimentally, you rub your fingers over the shell of your ear; you just want to assure yourself regularly that you can still hear something from that side. It feels odd. You can feel your touch but can barely hear your fingers rubbing against the skin. It’s like the touch is disembodied from the rest of you like it’s not really happening. It’s hard to describe the sensation of hearing loss: it feels like your ear is stuffed full of cotton wool, both dulling your hearing and filling your head with constant noise.

You feel strange in your own body. 

The fabric of the light blue summer dress sits uncomfortably on your skin. It’s the first time in almost two months you are not wearing something like a hospital gown. The bandages are finally gone. Only a few plasters remain to cover the slowest healing wounds at the creases on your left wrist, neck, and waist. They pull strangely on your painful skin; they feel awkward under the fitted cut of the dress. 

They said you were lucky.

The layers of clothing, your trusty, threadbare green coat, and the way you landed on your side protected you from the fire raining down. Or part of you, at least. You feel anything but lucky when you catch your reflection in the window. Hell, you’re not even sure if you want to stare endlessly at your reflection, pick apart every way you’ve changed, or look away and pretend what you can’t see isn’t there for a little longer.

Your wrist is the only part you can actually see — the skin is an angry patchwork, wrapping all the way around, crawling up your underarm as if the flames spilled down your sleeve. 

You know that the parts you can’t see are worse just because of how much they hurt. Your left shoulder, up the junction of your neck to your hairline, all the way down to your hip: the skin pulls and burns with every move, and the nerves and tendons scream like they are in overdrive when you make the wrong move. When the bandages first came off, you skimmed the skin on your neck with careful fingers. On the right, the skin feels like it always did — on the left, it’s like a flame licked its way up around your jaw, stopping just short of your temple. A chunk of your hair has been scorched away on the nape of your neck, making for a strange wobble in your hairline.

You never considered yourself terribly vain, but you burst into tears the first time you looked in the mirror in the bathroom. With shaking hands, you peeled off your gown, only to reveal what seemed to be never-ending, angry, red, and bumpy scars down your left side. Scalded, melted, torched. You hurried to get dressed again, sobbing. You’ve still barely scraped together the courage to see how badly scarred you really are.

On your nightstand, bottles of ointment, thick cream, and pain relief, a new daily regime. You have enough to start a shop, you think bitterly. But you are lucky, they tell you. The pain will lessen, and the scars will fade — all you need is time and patience, medicine, and physical therapy. 

And accept that you will never hear silence again.

Accept that your body doesn’t really feel like yours anymore.

Accept that the world has moved on without you.

“Excited to go home?” Emil walks in just as you button up your cardigan. It’s too warm to wear a cardigan in summer, but nevertheless, you tug down your left sleeve as you turn to greet him. He’s wearing a new uniform — sharply cut, shining chevrons. His hair is combed neatly. Emil doesn't look anything like the rugged and sullen partisan fighter you met years ago, except for his eyes. There is a weariness in them, a sadness almost. 

In the hazy hospital days, where your heart and soul spent endless days on a sunny beach dreaming about a life with Bradley, Emil dutifully visited you like one of his war buddies. While he brought them cigarettes and brandy, he brought you flowers on your birthday. He would sit with you and softly tell you about what was happening outside. 

It’s over. The war is over. We made it, Anya. Aren’t we lucky?

“More than ready,” You reply, smiling.  “I’ve been packed for hours.��

A small suitcase sits on the neatly made bed. It’s deceptively heavy — while you don’t have many clothes or personal effects here, everything that you had on you in the explosion was beyond saving a disposed — the thick glass jars of ointment and cream add a lot of weight.

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you about something,” Emil starts. He looks strangely guarded. He avoids your gaze as he pulls out a chair, not saying anything. You take it as a cue to sit down on the bed across from him, your legs dangling off the side, even though he doesn’t say anything or make any sort of gesture. 

You shift uncomfortably, your dress pulling on the plaster on your waist. Emil is staring at his fingernails. Swearing softly, you try to find a comfortable position, pushing yourself further back up on the bed. You can feel the muscle twitch in your left shoulder. As you lift your left hand, a slight tremor courses through it from the strain of leaning on it. It’s gone in a few seconds, but the dull pain remains. 

You don’t prompt Emil to speak, just looking at him expectantly as, after a few minutes, he finally looks up at you. 

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bring this up,” His voice is monotone. “But I suppose you have a right to it.”

Another silence falls. There’s a tension in the air.

You raise an eyebrow, following his movements with a skeptical look on your face. Emil reaches into his pocket, taking something out in his balled fist. Wordlessly, he flicks something in your direction. Quickly, you cradle your hands, the flicker of silver catching your eye as it falls. The familiar weight that lands in your palm is a comfort you had almost forgotten about. You thought it got lost. You thought you’d never see it again.

Bradley’s bracelet is blackened by the flames, dirt, and what looks to be dried blood marring the once shiny silver. You trace your thumb over the nameplate, every bump, and ridge exactly as you remember — it’s like a weight is lifting off your shoulders. You can’t keep the fond smile breaking out over your face as you realize it’s Bradley's birthday today. 

It’s June 27th, 1945.

Your heart feels full of hope. Like suddenly, everything you’ve been waiting for and dreaming of is so much closer. The war is over. You made it. Aren’t you lucky?

“Jesus Christ, Anya,” Emil sounds pained. “You’re not really -” He trails off as you look up. Emil stares at you, somewhere between disbelief and anger. You quickly wipe the smile off your face, staring back impassively as you quickly tuck the bracelet away in your closed palm, crossing your arms as if to hide the evidence.

“I’m not really what?” You counter, voice forcibly light. Emil rubs his hands over his face in frustration.

“I really didn’t peg you for being this naive,” He grinds out. You purse your lips, offended, but wait to reply. “You’re actually in love with him.” Emil accuses you.

You scoff, fingers tightening around the bracelet. Instinctively, you want to deny it, even if only because Emil makes it sound like a crime. But the words stick in your throat, and your heart wrenches. You are in love with Bradley; you have been all along. You’ve never said it. Not to him — you’ve barely only admitted it to yourself. Somewhere, wrapped in warm, hazy dreams, wrapped in the fantasy of Bradley, it was all so clear. The words came so easily.

Instead, you roll your eyes deliberately. Theatrically. You scoff, but can’t get the lie out of your mouth. It’s a transparent tactic; it's pathetic, really. 

But you’ll be damned if you admit you’re in love with Bradley while Emil is staring at you in wide-eyed disappointment. 

“What did Bradshaw promise you?” Emil’s voice is frosty. The temperature in the room drops to sub-zero from his tone.

“Excuse me?” You blink.

“What did he promise you?” His tone suddenly turns sardonic. “That he’ll come back for you? Take you flying? Take you with him to America - marry you?”

Your heart sinks.

“What do you take me for?” You bite out. It’s a feeble defense. You know you don’t stand a chance when you see a flicker of sympathy in Emil’s eyes, but it disappears in a blink. The pinpoint accuracy hurts more than you’d like to admit. The words reverberate down your bones, and you hate to admit it’s shaking your resolve. How many times has Bradley said those exact words? How many girls has he promised the exact same thing? A shiver involuntarily, like your body is physically trying to rid you of the thought.

“Do you think he’s coming back for you, Anya?” He spits out. “Do you really, truly believe that?” You can’t help but flinch at the acid in his voice. But your face pulls into an angry scowl. What does Emil know? Who is he to judge? He only met Bradley once. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” You reply overly arrogantly, trying to get some sort of upper hand in the situation. Wrapping your feelings in a shield of lies and diversion is the only way to keep them yours. 

“The ridiculous thing is you running around a war zone with an American identification bracelet on your wrist.” What do you think would have happened if you were captured? What if the Soviets found you with that on your wrist? You’d be halfway to a Gulag right now.” Emil is raising his voice with every word, thundering at you— he shoots up from his chair, unable to stay seated under the intensity of his anger.  Behind him, a stern-looking nurse looks through the door opening before turning wide-eyed and leaving without saying a word. You refuse to be intimidated by Emil’s posturing while he continues to yell at you: “Seriously, Anya, it’s like you’ve taken leave of all your fucking senses!” 

“But none of that happened, did it?” You counter, slowly rising to match his volume to cut off his tirade. The bracelet's metal is cutting into your palm; you are clutching it so tightly. “And now you’re suddenly trading in what-ifs? That’s rich. What if I got arrested with Bradl- Bradshaw?” You almost stumble over his name; embarrassment prickles down your neck, but you don’t let it deter you. “What if they had found the documents and weapons during that raid — that I stole for you and your cause — what would have happened to me then? They killed Eva for less.” You seethe. “You didn’t seem so concerned then.” 

You were left alone to deal with all that.

Emil looks pained at the mention of Eva and sighs deeply, momentarily deflated, heavily sitting back down again. Your heart is racing. He restarts, more gently, more pensive this time, trying to drive home his point. “I’ve known many men like Bradshaw. I served with plenty of them. The uniform, the charm — so completely aware of it.” He pauses momentarily as if to gather his thoughts, his eyes darting about the wall behind you. “And I’ve seen many brilliant, pretty, young girls, just like you, not stand a chance once they got into the crosshairs.”

“You make it sound like I was a puppet getting my strings pulled,” You assert bitterly, not ready to forgive his outburst so easily. “The choice was mine — I made the first move.”

“The fact you think that gave you the upper hand is just proof of how naive you are.” He easily dismisses you. Again.

“Oh, fuck you.” You exclaim, exasperated. “You are so dead set on casting me as the poor fool in this that you will completely erase my decisions. If —” You swallow heavily. “If I believed Bradshaw, it’s because I chose to. I took every step in his direction of my own volition.”

Emil opens his mouth, frowning deeply. You raise your voice, refusing to allow him to cut in.

“If it was stupid or naive; if it was all just a mistake — then it was my mistake to make.” You’re not even sure you’re telling Emil or yourself. “And don’t you dare forget: no matter what I did or chose to believe, the mission was a success. I got him out.” You are struggling to catch your breath, adrenaline hot in your veins. But the words keep pouring out. “You can sit here and judge me all you want, berate me if you need to — whatever makes you feel better. Whatever makes you feel less guilty. But don’t delude yourself into thinking I need lessons in character judgment from you.”

A painful silence falls the moment the words leave your mouth. That’s below the belt. It’s petty. It’s heartless. Jan was Emil’s friend before he was his subordinate in the army before he was his brother-in-arms in the resistance. Before he betrayed everyone. 

The silence drags on, and the ringing in your ear makes you feel off-kilter. You shake your head, trying to shrug off the noise, but it doesn’t help.

“I’m sorry.” Emil finally admits, with difficulty—his face wrenches in pain. You look away in embarrassment, finally uncrossing your arms, awkwardly pulling your left sleeve further over your wrist in a futile attempt to cover more of the scars. “I should have never allowed you to get pulled into the resistance this deeply,” He looks at you sadly as you blanch. Your heartbeat slows as ice pours into your stomach. “I should have never made the decision to leave Bradshaw in your care.”  

Taking a shaky breath, you wait for Emil to continue.

“I feel responsible for what happened to you — for what you had to do,” He swallows dryly. “You were too young, too inexperienced. You just hid it so goddamn well because you are too clever for your own good. Because you throw yourself at things which such confidence and conviction.” Emil shakes his head, the lingering frustration still evident in his movements. “I should have seen through it and sent you home.”

You blink away the tears that start burning in your eyes. It will just never be enough, will it? After everything that happened to you. After everything you did. Emil will never be able to see you as anything more than the little sister figure that tagged along, someone to project his guilt onto. He’s done terrible things. So have you. He’s made bad decisions. God knows you have. And still, he dismisses you without a second thought. 

You will never be his equal. 

The war is over, and as far as you are concerned, so is this conversation. You’ve spent the past years of your life in service of a greater cause, in the shadow of greater men. There is no glory for you at the end. But you got what you wanted, didn’t you? The war is over. You are free. Aren’t you lucky? Getting up, you brush down your dress to straighten it with your free hand, Bradley’s bracelet looped around the shaking fingers of your left hand. 

“Things didn’t quite turn out as I hoped,” A small, sad smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as you vaguely gesture at the left side of your face. “But do me a favor, Emil…” You take a deep breath to steady your shaking voice. “Don’t pity me, please.”

You’ll fight him at every turn if you have to, but you don’t think you can handle his pity. Or anyone’s. You don’t want it. Grabbing your suitcase from the bed, you finally look back up at Emil.

“I’ll see myself home,” your voice is even and polite. “Thank you for coming by and for returning my bracelet. I appreciate it.” With that, you brush past him to the door.

“Do you understand that whatever Bradshaw told you, he tells every girl?” All anger has dissipated from Emil’s voice, yet it does nothing to soften the blow of his words. “If he’s still alive, he has long forgotten about you.”

He just has to get the last jab in; lord your moments of weakness over you as if it will suddenly change your mind. As if it will undo anything. How petty. 

You turn and stare at Emil for a moment, the corner of your mouth still quirked up. Anything you will say now will undoubtedly betray how much his words hurt you. Reacting in any way will just validate his anger and your deepest fears. What if Bradley died? What if he forgot? What if he just stopped caring?

What if he never really cared in the first place?

It’s probably the coward’s way out. But you just turn on your heel and leave, gait steady, head held high.

The screeching in your ear resonates through your whole body now, rattling your bones and making your hands shake. 

But you won’t stop now.

***

It’s Christmas by the time Bradley finally sets foot stateside again. The journey home almost felt longer than the war itself. 

Everything is like it was before. Everything about coming home is oddly familiar. Many things changed, but so many things remained the same. The fat cat in the bar just off base was still mean; the diner still had the same menu, and every street looked just like before. The Christmas party on base is exactly like before he left: full of cheer, alcohol, and off-key signing. 

Maybe Bradley just sees the world with different eyes now. Everything shifted. Imperceptibly almost. But just enough to make him feel like he doesn’t quite fit anymore, like the place he carved out for himself in all those years of training, partying, and flying suddenly doesn’t fit him anymore. It pinches, it irritates. Bradley can’t seem to get comfortable. He really thought the feeling would leave once he finally got home.

At least now he sleeps. It’s enough to get him through the day. He still wanders around at night. He thought getting out of the claustrophobic confines of the boat would make the unease pass. That being home would make him forget the powerlessness he felt locked away in the small room. That the blood, the explosions, and the horrors would fade. But it’s only in the early morning sunrise, as he aimlessly meanders over the base or past the waterfront, just as the first beams of sun creep over the horizon, Bradley finds moments of solace. It’s quiet. The sky is clear, with only stars and clouds as far as the eye can see. 

No planes, no explosions. No fiery trails marring the horizon, no black smoke obscuring the first light.

It’s those strange early hours; Bradley feels he can breathe freely. Even just for a moment, he can relax. The cold air doesn’t bother him; rather, it soothes him. If time could stop, Bradley wishes it would be right then, and he could stay in the fleeting moments of daybreak forever.

But the world never stops turning, twisting painfully around him. The moment is gone, but the memories, everything he’d like to forget, anchor him in place. Alone.

And he feels his loneliness more than ever at Christmas. It had never been his favorite time of year since he was an orphan. Sure, his father’s friends and the Navy always ensured he had somewhere to go. There was always something to do. But the time of year never felt special to him anymore, rather an obligation at best.

The officer’s mess is decorated with loud tinsel — it’s obnoxious in its volume — the flickering reflections cast over the whole room. When Bradley closes his eyes, it almost looks like flak explosions during nighttime. Quick flashes of yellow, the rumble of explosions shaking the air around him. His grip tightens on the dinner fork. He blinks rapidly. Like a record speeding up, the cheery Christmas music is suddenly back; Mav’s voice is loud next to him, the smell of the dinner spread wafting through the air.

Dropping his fork a little too loudly, although the clang against the porcelain plate barely attracts any attention, Bradley slumps back in his chair. His wine glass is full again, the mess staff making sure no one runs dry. It’s Christmas, after all. 

That also makes it your birthday. Bradley takes a too-big gulp of his wine to stop the feeling of guilt bubbling up. Your handkerchief is safely tucked away in his footlocker, together with the things dearest to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of carrying it around anymore; he feels like he tainted the luck you bestowed on him. He doesn’t deserve it. But he also doesn’t want to — can’t — let you go.

“Rooster? Rooster!” Mav’s hand claps on his shoulder, pulling Bradley out of his miserable spiral. “Mrs. Simpson wants to know your plans now that you are home,” He half-whispers. 

“Oh,” Bradley looks up at the kindly lady sitting across the table from him, a smile on her face. In contrast, Admiral Simpson, of course, sat next to his wife, is staring him down. “Truthfully, I haven’t had much time to think about it yet, ma’am,” Bradley admits politely.

“Beau told me you started left for the war as a lieutenant, and now you are a decorated captain,” Mrs. Simpson inquires conversationally. “Surely, you have your choice of assignments.”

“I think I need some time to adjust and enjoy being back,” Bradley replies, plastering a smile on his face, refraining from taking another too-large drink from his wine. He never thought he’d get to this point — it just simply didn’t really occur to him to think this far ahead. After the war. But it’s bizarre not to have orders on stand-by, alarms going off, and scrambling jets all hours of the day. Where does he go from here?

“With his flight hours and experience, the test center in Nevada would be a great option for Rooster,” Mav adds his two cents. Mrs. Simpson nods with interest. “If he were to actually apply,” He shoots Bradley a look. “He could be in the air in the latest jet before the year is out.”

Bradley bites his tongue. Mav always does this. Still does this. His decisiveness and insight make him a great leader in the air but a shitty de-facto father figure. It’s not that Nevada would probably be a bad move for Bradley. But Mav completely takes out of the equation that Bradley might not want to go. And now he throws it out there in front of Simpson, Bradley’s superior officer.

“Rooster has proven himself as a pilot,” Simpson agrees. “He has the stack to back it up,” He adds jokingly to his wife, motioning to the rows of service ribbons pinned to Bradley’s dark blue uniform jacket. She titters.

“But I will respectfully disagree with Maverick,” Simpson’s tone has an edge to it now — there’s no secret that those two don’t really see eye to eye on most things. “Being a test pilot is exciting, but if you want to advance your career in the Navy, there are more valuable assignments.”  His sharp gaze settles on Bradley. “You should take this time to prove those battlefield commissions in non-combat. Hone your skills as an officer. Become a real leader.” 

Bradley wants to reply, but another voice cuts in before he can open his mouth. 

“I think you should consider settling down, Rooster,” Penny leans forward, past Mav, looking at him with a teasing smile. Mrs. Simpson makes noises of agreement. Pete and Simpson take a drink in unison, not taking any chances of arguing with their respective wives.

“I don’t know…” Bradley starts laughing. “First, I’d like to enjoy my first Christmas home in almost four years,” He raises his glass, hoping to change the subject quickly.

If only it were that easy.

Mav clinks his glass against Bradley’s. “Nevada — think about it,” He urges, voice low, probably hoping Penny won’t hear him. 

“The base in Nevada is out in the desert,” Penny complains, clearly overhearing Mav’s comment, turning to Mrs. Simpson for support. “Can you imagine? Nothing for around for miles — you need a weekend pass just to make it to the nearest city!” 

“That’s awful!” She agrees. “How is he supposed to meet anyone there?” She asks, turning to her husband.

“It’s a base, not a social scene, dear,” Simpson tries to do away with the whole conversation about settling down and Nevada, putting his hand on his wife’s shoulder before turning to Bradley. “The trial at Nuremberg has started recently. If you are ready to cut your teeth on red tape and navigate brass politics, Rooster, that is the place to be now.” 

Nuremberg? Germany? Europe? 

He could go back to Europe? 

Bradley takes a deep breath to steady himself from the onslaught of thoughts that are suddenly cropping up. He hadn’t even dared to entertain the thought of taking up a post in Europe again. His fingers itch. 

“You’d send him away again, Admiral?” Penny pipes up. “Bradley only just got back stateside.”

“Pen, darling,” Pete tries to cut her off gently. Although meant well, it’s not really appropriate to discuss. Serving in the Navy means going where the Navy tells you to, when the Navy tells you so. It’s the life they signed up for.

“No, Pete,” She waves her hand dismissively, eager to finish her thought. “Bradley,” Penny now turns to him, expression earnest. She’s worried about him. Simpson, who was just about to take a bite of his rapidly cooling slice of Christmas ham, is letting his fork hover awkwardly somewhere en route from his plate to his mouth in bemusement. “Think about it. Not even you will meet anyone in Nevada,” She continues. “And by God, don’t even think about Europe right now.” 

“Why not?” Simpson asks, genuinely surprised.

“Who is he going to meet in Germany, Beau?” His wife admonishes.

Where in the conversation did they agree he wanted to settle down? 

“An admiral’s daughter, maybe,” Pete jokes under his breath. Simpson coughs awkwardly to disguise his chuckle. Penny is glaring daggers at Pete now.

Bradley downs the rest of his wine in one go. He expects one of his superiors around him to comment on his table manners, but they seem to forgive him, considering the circumstances. 

“Excuse me,” He says a little louder than necessary, effectively ending the conversation as he gets up. “Admiral, Mav, ladies,” He nods politely before forcing a smile on his face, tone joking. “If we are going to discuss my personal life to this level of detail, I think I need something a little stronger from the bar.” 

With that, he saunters away. Posture relaxed, and pace unhurried, like he isn’t bothered in the slightest. He even playfully winks at Penny as he passes. But with every step, the ice in his stomach becomes colder — burning a hole through his bones.

Sipping on a whiskey at the bar smoking his second cigarette in quick succession, Bradley tries to get his thoughts into order before returning to the table. Everyone has an opinion on what he should do. If it weren’t for daily formation, PT, and inspections, Bradley truthfully would have no idea how to fill his days. Thinking about his future seems so overwhelming. Until recently, he wasn’t sure he’d even make it home alive. 

Now, his head feels full from the alcohol and agony. Nevada, Nuremberg, settling down. How can he explain that the only person he would settle down with is someone he was never supposed to meet in a country where he was never supposed to be and he hasn’t seen or spoken to in two and a half years? 

How can he explain that you are the only person he is sure he’d ever marry?

He doesn’t even know for sure you are still alive. He has no idea if you moved on in the meantime. Maybe you were never going to wait for him. 

It’s all too much to think about. He waves at the barman for another round as he presses his cigarette butt into the ashtray. Rubbing his eyes, Bradley tries to summon the energy to be sociable again before dessert is served.

“Hey, Rooster?” 

Tiredly, he looks up. Penny walks up to him, looking a little apprehensive. He nods in acknowledgment as he takes another drink from his freshly served whiskey. She slides onto the barstool next to him. Bradley automatically signals for another drink. Within less than twenty seconds, the barman slides another whiskey in front of Penny. Her gloved hand picks at the napkin for a moment. 

“I’m sorry, Bradley,” She starts.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” He replies automatically, smiling at her, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s a tension in his shoulders. Penny has known him for so long, that she sees right through it.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that,” She continues, honestly. “It was just a bit of fun.”

“It’s okay, honestly.” He dismisses her apology easily, clinking his glass against her instead, signaling to take a drink, and all will be forgiven. “It’s nice to have someone worry about me in my old age.” He jokes, the corner of his eyes crinkling, shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“The old age of 31?” Penny retorts, taking a small sip.

“I’m surprised I’m not graying yet,” Bradley adds dryly.

“You’re not a young upstart lieutenant anymore,” She jokes, lightly hitting his shoulder, before her face turns earnest again. “I’m so proud of you,” She adds softly. “And so happy you came back to us. Pete thinks so, too.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“The war is over, Bradley,” Penny continues in that same soft tone. “It’s a good time to start thinking about the future. Your future in the Navy and beyond that.”

“You’re right, but I -” Bradley hesitates. He plays with his lighter between his fingers. He can’t talk about it. He shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s for me, Pen.” 

“It took Pete all too long to figure that out, although he’ll probably never admit that to you,” Penny’s voice is low, wistful. Her pain is evident. “Don’t go down that path, Bradley — it’s lonely. Follow your heart.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Bradley chuckles dryly. If he could follow his heart, he’d be on the first boat back to Europe if he could follow his heart.

“If it were easy, everyone would do it,” Penny winks at him as she flips open her cigarette case. Bradley offers her a light. “You already beat all the odds; you’ve already proven yourself over and over in the air. Forget about your next professional milestone for a moment.  It’s time to show yourself some kindness, Bradley.” Penny exhales a cloud of smoke, a kind smile on her face again. 

Bradley hesitates, swirling his drink before emptying it. Show himself kindness? Kindness to himself would be to forget everything that keeps him awake at night. Forget the horrors, forget the noise, forget you.

“I think they’re serving dessert.” Bradley pushes his empty glass away, offering his arm to Penny with a smile. 

Maybe he just hates himself so much that he won’t allow himself to forget. The swirling memories, the echo of your voice, the glimmer in your eye — it’s like shards of glass under his skin. If he were to pull out every single one, he’d bleed to death.

***

The haphazard pile of magazines is balancing precariously on the off-white side table. There is barely anyone in the sterile-looking waiting room; a few fellow officers are trying to make themselves comfortable on the hard wooden chairs, staring out the window, playing with a lighter after going through a pack of cigarettes, or just napping. The only real movement is the assistant, sometimes breezing through the room, everyone perking up for a moment, but she leaves without saying anything.

Getting a medical evaluation is the most tedious process in the Navy. Sure, it’s nice to have at least a place to sit in a quiet room as an officer rather than waiting in the overcrowded halls with the enlisted, but it doesn’t make it any less goddamn tedious. Bradley stretches his legs in front of him, trying to find a position where the back of the chair is not digging into every part of his flesh. He’s been here for an hour already. His appointment was 45 minutes ago. It’s a gray afternoon in late February 1946.

Bradley unthinkingly grabs the top magazine from the pile to alleviate some crushing tedium. He leafs through it, not really registering anything. Just going through the motions of doing something. He grabs the next. And another one. 

Only five minutes have passed.

Bradley sighs and reaches for the next magazine on the top of the pile. Life Magazine. He starts leafing through it again, skimming the large pages full of pictures. Nothing sticks.

Victory in Europe.

The large letters are emblazoned over the large picture spread. It is the first thing that Bradley really notices. He slows down, scanning the pictures more carefully despite not wanting to. What starts with pictures of people celebrating will inevitably turn into a report of the horror of the final days of the war. Bradley has seen enough of that. The images of the camps, the burned and bombed-out cities, turn his stomach. He can feel, smell, and hear them right through the ink on the page. 

It’s like his vision is glazed over as he goes through the motions — flip the page, move his eyes across, flip the page, move his eyes across, flip the page, move his eyes — no, flip back.

Bradley’s heart suddenly beats so hard he almost gasps for breath. On that page is a small picture—strangely familiar spires and towers on a skyline, thick clouds of smoke. In the foreground, a wounded man, clothes torn and splattered in blood, is being lifted into a truck on a makeshift stretcher. Chaos frames the man like in a Renaissance painting: the smoke, the people yelling, gesticulating. But it’s not that. It’s none of that. It’s the smallest thing. Negligible even.

At the bottom of the frame, right at the corner, a small hand is holding onto the stretcher: a ratty coat sleeve, the hem unraveling. The picture is black and white, but Bradley knows that the coat is that exact shade of moss green. But it’s not even that. Just above that sleeve, a bracelet peeks out. A chain too chunky, plain, and loose for any piece of jewelry on a wrist so fine. A round plate at the center of the chain, its weight pulling the chain slightly askew — it’s too small to tell if there is anything written on there. But Bradley doesn’t need to see it. Because he knows what it says; after all, it’s his.

It’s like a weight has lifted off his shoulders. You were alive. Feverishly, Bradley’s eyes fly over the text. You were alive on May 7th, 1945. 

You were alive a day before the capitulation of Germany. He tries to calm himself down enough to read the whole text, trying to find any other clue — anything about you. It’s hard to stay seated; Bradley feels like he should be moving, pacing, doing something. It’s the most energy he has had since his last combat flight. His leg is bouncing, trying to release some of the sudden surge of energy. It’s getting him annoyed looks. Folding the magazine over, Bradley uses his free hand to rub over his face, trying to focus on the words swimming in his vision.

“Moments before disaster: the old city of Prague goes up in flames after final air raid. The Red Cross reports… major loss of life…site of the picture leveled.”

The text is going in and out of focus before him. Whatever levity he just felt, the crushing weight of reality is coming back tenfold. Bradley’s leg stills again as he tries to understand. He tries to reason. You wouldn’t have died. You would have found a way out. You would do something clever, have an escape. 

His stomach churns. The dream. V.E. Day.

Were you really saying goodbye?

He thinks of you bathed in the sunlight. So soft, so free.

Unceremoniously, Bradley shoots up from this chair, tearing the page from the magazine before quickly folding it and tucking it in his pocket. He ignores the sounds of protest around him, ignoring his name finally being called by the doctor’s assistant as he decisively walks out of the building.

He doesn’t know where to go or what to do, but he doesn’t want to feel this pain now.

***

There are a few things Natasha hates. 

Cold coffee.

Wet socks.

The way her new uniform heels pinch before they are broken in.

Dragging her drunk lug of a best friend from a bar in broad daylight on a Tuesday before his chain of command finds out while it’s her goddamn afternoon off. 

Rooster has changed since he came back from the war. Sometimes, it’s almost imperceptible. He still sings, jokes, and basks in every sort of attention he can get. Girls orbit him as they have always done, and he smiles and flirts — but then it’s like the light in his eyes flickers, like a darkness is trying to claw its way up in him. 

Sometimes, it’s like night and day. Rooster was never reckless, erring on the side of overthinking and, if anything, choosing to stay put rather than take an uncalculated risk. But now, he seems to oscillate between apathy and what Natasha can only describe as stupidity. Today falls firmly in the stupidity category. 

The bar just off base is every bit as dirty and seedy during the day as it is at night. A drunken sailor stumbles out. Natasha is unimpressed. Serving with the Women Air Service Pilots during the war, she has learned that the uniform on a man means very little indeed. She has undergone the same flight training as her male peers, has plenty of flight hours, and has worn the uniform. Despite that, she never got the same respect. Which was, in the most unpleasant way, eye-opening. 

For all his faults and skirt-chasing ways, Rooster was one of the few male aviators who would speak to Natasha and her colleagues as equals.

Impatiently, she pushes into the bar, ignoring the several pairs of eyes looking at her hungrily. She glances at the bartender, the person who called her, and he just nods at her.

At the far end of the bar is Rooster. He’s hunched over, forehead resting on his hand, shielding his eyes from the world around him. How long has he been here? His khaki uniform shirt is wrinkled, liquid from his glass sloshed around his elbows on the bar, and his hair messy, like he had been running his hands through it in frustration. 

Natasha slows her pace. It’s not the happy-drunk Rooster that just tired himself out, outshining everyone in the room. 

He looks like he is grieving. 

“Hey, Rooster,” Natasha pokes his shoulder. He jerks but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge her. “Get up,” She encourages him, worried about his unnaturally quiet state. Bradley still doesn’t acknowledge her. Natasha is not in the mood for this — she will not spend her afternoon off cajoling a grown man having a drunk sulk into going home. Swiping Bradley’s car keys off the bar and stuffing them in her coat pocket, she grabs Bradley’s cover, forcefully planting it on his head.

That finally gets a reaction out of him, although it’s only a grunt. “Get up, Captain,” She hisses at him. When Bradley finally looks up, she immediately pushes his sunglasses on his face.

“Ow!” He exclaims, followed by a string of incoherent curses. Natasha makes most of the momentum, grabbing Bradley by the elbow and practically dragging him off the bar stool and out of the bar. She can’t stop — if Rooster gets it in his head, he doesn’t want to go, she can’t kid herself — there’s no way she’s making him go physically. So she’ll have to use shock-and-awe tactics at least to get a stumbling drunk Bradley to his car.

“God! Rooster!” Natasha is getting increasingly annoyed as he stumbles, nearly taking them both down. She will rip him a new one if he rips her new nylons. “Can you get it together for five fucking seconds?”

She’s this close to just dumping him at the base gate and having the duty take care of him. “Get in the fucking car,” She hisses, pushing him forward. Thankfully, he was predictable enough to just park behind the bar.

Bradley, completely uncoordinated, slams straight into the car. He groans in pain, leaning heavily against the passenger door. Natasha rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the driver’s side and unlocks the doors. She watches Rooster attempt to fold himself into the car, long limbs flailing. It would be funny if she weren’t so mad. When he finally sits down, Rooster burps so hard that Natasha flinches back at the off chance he is about to throw up — thank god it’s his car.

“You done?” She snipes at him. “Or do you need to hurl up that whole bottle of whiskey first?”

“Fuck you,” Rooster croaks out, leaning back, eyes closed. 

“Oh look, it speaks!” Natasha mocks as she sticks the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life. “So, care to explain? Or do you prefer to wallow in your shitty drunkenness in silence?” Rooster doesn’t reply. Natasha didn’t expect him to. Bradley is really good at pretending he wears his heart on his sleeve — but when things get too real, he clams up. She’s known him long enough now to understand he’s hurting. She’s also known him long enough she knows he won’t talk about it until it stops hurting, which may very well be never.

“Anya called me a shit drunk,” Rooster suddenly blurts out.

Natasha stares at him in disbelief. Is this about some girl? All this over some girl? “Well, she was right,” She scoffs, unsure what else to say.

“I never told her I love her,”

Bradley’s voice is soft, and for a moment, Natasha isn’t sure she heard him correctly. Killing the engine, she turns to face him, mouth hanging open. Rooster is staring off into the distance, a lost look on his face. 

“I left her… there,” He sighs heavily. “I had to — but I could have said it. I don’t even know why… I just didn’t.”

The sentences are coming out disjointed, but his voice is earnest. Natasha is stunned into silence. 

“And now I’ll never see her again,” Bradley’s voice is uncharacteristically small.

“Why?” Natasha is confused. Rooster is actually so out of sorts about a girl, the vague and dramatic statements — he is suddenly like a lovesick puppy. Rooster has been in love, he’s been heartbroken, and he has grieved. Part of him is always grieving. But this is… different. New. Raw.

“I can’t talk about it,” He groans. “About anything — Anya, that — that place. And I’m so scared… I will forget everything about her. She will forget about me. Fuck!”

His sudden exclamation makes Natasha flinch.

“I’m an idiot. I should have told her — that I love her — when I had the chance.” Bradley slumps forward, forehead on the dashboard.

“Rooster, Ro - Bradley!” Natasha shakes his shoulder urgently. He can’t fall asleep now. “Who is Anya? Where is that place?”

“I can’t tell you!” Bradley’s fist lands on the dashboard loudly as he pushes himself back. “I can’t tell anyone, ever.” He hesitates as if he’s already said too much. 

“What did you do?” Natasha’s voice is quiet, barely concealing her horror. 

“I fell in love when I shouldn’t have,” He grinds out. “With someone I knew I couldn’t have.”

“Jesus Christ,” Natasha mumbles under her breath. “So, what — Rooster got into Rooster trouble?” She asks icily. This is the strangest drunk mood she’s ever seen him in.

“Something like that.” 

“But then the tables turned?” Natasha shakes her head, voice softer. Rooster just nods in reply, leaning back again, eyes closed. It’s hard to be really sympathetic to her best friend in this situation — for every broken heart he left behind, Rooster always got away unscathed. If it hurt, he never let on. And if the girl crying in the ladies' room were anything to go by, there were a lot of broken hearts. But still.

Natasha has known Bradley for long enough. She’s seen him in the deepest stages of grief, consumed by anger at the world around him. Bradley lost so much — and because of that, he allowed so little to really get to him. Let alone admit that anything got to him in the first place. Rely on Rooster to always have a joke or a throwaway line ready to defuse the situation. 

“I’m sorry, Rooster,” Natasha finally concedes as she starts the car again, shaking her head. “You’ll get over it.”

***

“Dropped out of college, no typing certification, no secretarial experience…” Sharp blue eyes framed by thin golden reading glasses peer over the paper of your neatly written resume. You straighten your posture, although you could possibly not sit any straighter. Your gray dress starkly contrasts the colorful, tastefully decorated room. The floral sofa you’re sitting on is pretty but anything but comfortable. It’s stuffy in the room and strangely dusty. With every move, the specks of dust flutter through the air in the thousands. 

“Why should I hire you as the ambassador’s personal secretary?” The question is not unkind, to be expected at an interview, but the meaning is not lost on you. Why are you even here?

“I am a quick study, I work hard,” You explain levelly, hands neatly folded in your lap. The high collar of your dress itches against your neck. “I may not have the certifications and diplomas, but I have the work ethic — you’ll see on my resume, that I worked...” 

You trail off. The middle-aged woman sitting actress from you, not looking at you as you speak, stares at your resume unimpressed. You swallow. 

“I worked all through the war to support myself and my parents.”

The woman sighs, finally putting the paper away on the low coffee table between you.

“I’ll be honest with you, miss S-…” Her flickers to your resume again.

“Anna is fine, please.” You interject politely. 

“Anna.” Mrs. Parker echoes. “I will be honest — I invited you for an interview because your letter was well written. Better than most, more qualified candidates. You also have a commendation letter from the president for your service to the republic during the war. It has me intrigued.”

Oh. 

So you’re here just to be gawked at rather than seriously being considered for the job?

“And now that I see you…” Mrs. Parker’s gaze lingers on the left side of your face. “Well, let’s just say that you’re not likely to attract my husband’s wandering eyes,” She clicks her tongue. “That’s a good thing, trust me.” She adds under her breath. You strain to hear the comment. 

You don’t flinch. You don’t fidget or move. You’ve heard it all before by now. The scars on your face slowly become lighter — they’re not as red as they once were, but they are there. They will always be there; no careful curl framing your face or fashionable veil will fully obscure it. At least Mrs. Parker is blunt about it, you suppose. Most people just stare.

“You’re a tough cookie.” She continues with a smile. “I like that. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“What would you like to know?” You inquire.

“Why did you drop out of college?” Mrs. Parker comes straight to the point.

“Because the Nazi regime closed all universities in 1939,” You reply stoically.

“Allow me to rephrase: why aren’t you going back?” She retorts immediately, fidgeting mindlessly with her pearl necklace. Mrs. Parker looks like a lady of leisure — fancy clothes, expensive jewelry — but it’s clear she’s a sharp mind. “The semester has barely started; surely you are still admissible.” Mrs. Parker’s gold-framed glasses glint in the September sunlight.

“It’s not for me anymore,” You answer simply. Of course, re-enrolled the moment you could. You just couldn’t even make it through the first week. Maybe you’ve built it up too much in your head. But sitting through lectures and sifting through political theory just left you feeling hollow. It was too busy. Too noisy. Too strange.

“What do your parents think about that?”

You blink. At 26, you didn’t expect that question to come up at a job interview.

“My parents are dead, Mrs. Parker.” You reply softly, blinking against all the dust in the air. You don’t really listen to the apologies and commiserations. You’ve heard them all by now.

When you told Emil that things hadn’t exactly turned out how you hoped, you could have never dreamed about the situation you found yourself in now. When you got home that sunny day in June, the pile of overdue bills and notices on your doorstep should have been the first hint that something was deeply wrong. You sent your parents money, but your father always took care of all the bills and rent. Everyone that you called was relieved and surprised that you were alive. But no one had heard from your parents since April 1945.

As the SS were withdrawing from the Red Army advance, they razed villages, burned crops, and executed whole families without prejudice. Your tiny, defenseless ancestral village was wiped off the map in less than one afternoon. The house you grew up in was no more than a pile of ashes. Not even the trees that you climbed as a child still stood. The place you once knew so well is now an alien landscape. 

There were no bodies to bury. There was no church to hold the funeral mass. There was not even a graveyard anymore. 

You commissioned a small memorial stone for your parents to sit at what once was the gate to your beloved garden and called the priest from the neighboring parish to say a few words. It’s all you could afford.

That’s the next dump on your ever-growing pile of shit. With a lawyer for a father in a high government position before the war, you never exactly had money troubles. But you were in the hospital for two months, and you still need physical therapy and treatment. The large family apartment is more than you can afford. Whatever money your father left you, whatever hasn’t gone up literally in flames with your childhood home, you’ve had to sink into paying off your debts.

It’s ultimately, ironically, you suppose, what brings you to the residence of the U.S. ambassador and why the ambassador’s wife seems to be grilling you for her own amusement. You need a job, but you can’t do physical labor. At this point, you would have jumped at the chance to go back to a factory if you had to.

You’ve already sold almost everything you still owned in the apartment, except for two trunks of personal items and heirlooms you couldn’t bear to part with. When you were younger, you thought you’d probably be married by 26, not living four to a room in a dorm with other working girls. 

Things didn’t turn out exactly as you hoped. But you suppose that’s also freeing. 

There’s only one thing you want. 

That dream. 

Bradley and the beach.

“Well,” Mrs. Parker recovers smoothly. “I think you can handle me being honest with you, Anna,”

You nod.

“You’re not getting the secretary job,” She announces curtly. You didn’t expect to. “But I require someone with good English, and I see you’ve worked as a cleaner before.”

You hold your breath, plucking at your left sleeve and pulling it down out of habit.

“This place is a nightmare.” She fumes, waving her hand around theatrically. Dust swirls violently. “No one has lived here since 1938, and it shows. But I can’t get the maids hired to do the job properly — I’m not sure if they don’t understand me or just don’t listen.” 

You wait for Mrs. Parker to continue, trying to breathe lightly to stop yourself from inhaling all the dust. “I’m opening a head housekeeper position.” She glances at you as she finally stops wafting new waves of dust around her. “You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and your English is excellent. I encourage you to apply.” Trust your gut.

“Then consider this my application,” You reply immediately, motioning to your resume on the table. Head housekeeper is not what you came here for. You shouldn’t be doing any physically strenuous activities, let alone manual labor. The nerves and tendons in your left shoulder and wrist were damaged. When you put too much pressure on it or move it too much, painful tremors incapacitate your whole arm.

“How is your sewing?” Mrs. Parker inquires, tone businesslike. 

“Excellent.” You lie. You are awful at handiwork, but you will sew till your fingers bleed if it means you get this job.

“Perfect — my daughter will be joining on our posting here, and she tends to be demanding about the hems of her dresses,” Mrs. Parker leans back as if to signal that the formalities are over. “And I am particular about the necklines,” She adds, almost offhandedly.

“Understood,” You reply. “When do I start?”

Mrs. Parkers bursts out laughing, clapping her hands in delight. You crack a small smile in response. You really hope that was the right move. 

“Come by tomorrow to pick up your uniform and discuss salary.” She replies, still laughing. “You can start right away, and get all this goddamn dust out of the house.”

That night, when you are in your tiny dorm bed, you think of that beach — it calms you: the summer sun, the soft sand, and the salty breeze. But when you think about Bradley, you get a sinking feeling in your stomach.

You are not naive. It’s been three years. Emil was most likely correct — if Bradley is still alive, he’s probably forgotten about you and moved on. 

It’s perhaps for the better. The thought hurts, but you try to get used to it.

You can’t fool yourself into thinking, you wouldn't even dare to dream, that Bradley would still want you. 

Who would?

It doesn’t matter. He deserves to be happy, even if that’s without you. Tears prickle behind our closed eyes. You will get used to this feeling. Accept the things you cannot change and seize what you can.

You can go to Virginia Beach. Even if you can’t find Bradley, even if he doesn’t want you anymore, it won’t matter. You just want to feel it once more. It doesn’t matter that it was a dream or a delusion — it was the real in your heart and the happiest you’ve ever felt. 

Maybe you’ll finally find something you've been missing there. 

Maybe you’ll let the ocean wash you away. 

Maybe you’ll finally find some peace there.

note | ffff i caught TWO separate strains of the flu since the new year and holy shit it took me out. still here though. thanks for reading and reblogging!

taglist |@katieshook02 |@gretagerwigsmuse |@yanak324 | @helplesslydevoted | @benhardysdrumstick | @chaoticversion | @cherrycola27 | @roosterschanelslut | @notroosterbradshaw | @eli2447 | @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog | @m-1234 | @phoenix1388 | @galaxy-moon | @indigomaegrimm | @annathewitch | @kmc1989

[robinrequiems]

hey any1 want some superman jon and batman Damian hcs? too bad cause you’re getting them

• damian realized why no one wanted to be batman when he turned 18 and Bruce decided to give him batman when he was 22.

• jon realized why jon didn’t want to be superman when he also turned 18

• oh and right, by gave, I mean bruce sorta can’t be batman anymore. medical reasons…

• damian sorta uh. persuaded clark into giving jon superman.

Damian: look. I don’t wanna be worlds finest with you, old man.

Clark: im- im not old—

Damian: listen here, jon and i? we are gonna surpass you and my dad. so give it to jon and let me prove it.

Clark: this doesn’t seem like a good idea— you aren’t ready— neither is jon

Damian: wait- wait, you don’t believe in your son and i??? wow. WOOOW. okay. i see.

Clark: that’s not it!-

Damian: sure. sure. don’t worry. I see now.

Clark: wait I do!

Damian: no, no you don’t.. it’s— it’s okay, I get it, it’s me, huh?

Clark: no!

Damian: I get it

Clark: please i do! I’ll - oh my rao, you’re playing me

Damian: i am. i cant do this without jon though. please, Clark.

Clark: *sigh, how did he get manipulated by a kid he used to babysit* okay.

• okay so now jon may be a little overwhelmed because one day he’s flamebird, the next, he’s becoming superman? huH. it’s extremely uh. worrying. and really just? wow.

• does Damian feel bad? oh yeah. he does. so bad. but he really can’t do it alone. they always dreamed of being their parents. or being better than them. but they grew up and realized that they really didn’t want to be their parents.

• but here they were, getting fitted for their suits and adding their own details to it.

jon: hey, you look hot

damian: please. shut up.

• they could do this. they could do this. shoot they can’t do this.

• damians own anxiety was going 50 mph. look, okay? remember before heretic when Bruce thought that Damian would become a satanic batman and basically rain hell all over gotham? yeah. that’s what is going on in damians mind.

• he doesn’t want to be that. ( “you won’t be like that, cmon, d, we’re gonna be better.” ) and how Damian wants to believe jon so bad..

• he doesn’t want to become obsessed with Batman like his father did, he still wants to have a life. he doesn’t want to isolate himself away and adopt kids as a coping mechanism. that’s why he needs jon to be superman. jon helps him, he helps him not go off into his own little world and stay there. he believes that with Jon, he’ll be okay. he has to be. maybe he uses jon as his own coping mechanism, but that isn’t the point.

• together, they will outshine their parents. the supersons can do this. they are the next generation, and it’s not like they are alone. they have so many other people to help them. they’ll be okay.

• they have been preparing for this their whole life, but they both feel like they got it too soon. they thought they had more time. Damian does feel guilty when he hears jon talking about how stressed he is about superman and not living up to whatever the hell he has to live up to, but Damian does fear what would. or could. have happened if he didn’t have jon with him. becoming batman took a lot out of him, more than he would like to admit. he just got constant flashbacks to heretic and that whole fiasco he thought he put behind him a loong time ago.

Jon: are you sure you’re okay?

Damian: yes idiot, quit worrying.

Jon: I’ll always worry about, d.

• jon somehow becomes MORE sappier when he becomes superman.

• okay, also, funny story. ( Clark and Bruce don’t find it funny AT ALL ) superman and batman? yeah they sorta kissed after an almost alien invasion. in their suits. uh. in front of an alien who they were arresting for the green lanterns. most people believe that when people say it, it’s a lie, kidding. no they don’t. there were pictures.

bruce: you want to explain this?

damian: not really, no.

• the public knows there’s a new Batman and Superman since yk. Jon’s face is public and was seen as superboy flamebird and now superman, and batman was slightly smaller and had some different moves

• but here’s their main line up: batman ( dami wamie, obvi ), superman ( jonnyboy kent ), nobody ( maya:)) ), green lantern ( tai pham, my baby boy ), lace ( wallace west 2, he goes by lace instead of flash because i said so. ), and shazam ( billy b ).

• fun fact, they have a den mother even though they are all in their 20s. poor dinah.. yeah black canary is their den mother. ( stole it from from yj )

• dinah makes sure they get their injuries checked out, train regularly, and you know. don’t blow up a building.

• again.

• ( when damian and jon were younger, in their teen years, they stupidly accidentally blowed up a building. in their defense, the building was owned by the penguin. and there were no civilians in the area. but they also got a lot of men sent after them.. oops. )

• they are very chaotic. they are the definition of dumbass energy sometimes.

• damian tries to keep the pda down whenever he’s batman, BUT JON DOESNT KNOW HOW TO DO THAT

• hence the amount of photos of jon hugging Damian or kissing him

• damian has never once initiated one in suits

• ( that one time jon almost died does not count )

Damian: thought you were gonna be batman.

Tim: nah, i don’t wanna be bruce. i saw what it did to dick. I would’ve became just like him.

Damian: am i like him??

Tim: god no, bruce would never kiss superman or date him or spray paint the new justice league logo— nice logo, by the way— onto villains bases

Damian: is that a good or bad thing?

Tim; good, that means you probably won’t be a total emotional stunted person using crime fighting as an outlet for unresolved childhood trauma.

Damian: you do realize why i became Robin right

Tim: .. not the point im trying to make. I mean now, brat.

• sometimes you can see some of the heroes dropping by to surprise kids, they heard that their old mentors used to go to children’s hospitals to visit sick kids, so they did that too. on a rare day where there isn’t any crime, which is really rare, they go to a school and talk if it’s a weekday, or they drop by an orphanage to hang out with kids.

• they have gotten into a lot of trouble though. they’re still learning how to work as a team. jon and damian are used to being solo and working with each other, Tai had tagged along a few times when they were younger and knows how they work, along with maya, but billy and Wallace do not.

• they often all get into arguments.

• damian lacks a filter and will criticize everyone if they mess up. and he often goes off alone or is too blunt.

• it takes a long time before they all realize that Damian is just: Damian, he doesnt mean to be mean. ( surprisingly )

• billy is used to being the big kid stuck at the kids table, it’s funny that he’s actually the second oldest when he used to be the youngest. ( lace is like.. 27? shazam is 25.. nobody 24. & the supersons 22. pulled all those ages outta my ass. you’re welcome. )

• dinah is also their therapist. poor dinah.

• like really giving pity to dinah. but dinah loves those kids, she has known some since they were kids. she used to take damian out for ice cream and train with him, and also babysit him. ( AUNT DINAH IS MY FAVORITE GOODBYE ). and she did the same with Jon.

• dinah actually does help a lot of them get over their trauma, not completely, but most have finally spoken about it. they began talking after they all got hit with fear gas.

• that was a bad night.

• they had almost disbanded before when they thought lace had died by the hands of captain cold. they had been arguing all day, and if they didn’t, they might’ve saved him:

• but turns out he wasn’t dead.

• but the argument was still there, and it was strong. it took a while for them to actually work together without dinah forcing them.

• then soon came another new member after maya left to go do some undercover mission for the justice league regarding some alien tech being distributed some place. it was a sad goodbye, but she would be back and she would have a place here.

• welcoming: yara flor. yara was a bit headstrong and wild. damian has screamed at her a lot and almost got into a fist fight with her before being dragged off by his boyfriend 💋

• but she settled in fine. minus the fact damian really wanted to shove a batarang up— anyways. she just had to learn teamwork and shit, she was used to being a solo and she was somewhat new. so they helped her out and she became a solid member of the team.

• sometimes damian and jon just go and sit on a rooftop like they did as kids togeyher. just alone with each other. thinking about how their life changed so quickly.

Damian: i thought we’d ruin our fathers’ legacies and plummet to the ground.

Jon: *he coughed* ..what?

Damian: yeah. i didn’t think we’d get this far, but here we are.

Jon: of course we got this far, and we’re gonna get further.

Damian: i know.

• oh yeah. so. superman. fucking proposed after they defeated darkseid. ( the battle was long, so many people were left injured and on the brick of death, Damian and jon had been separated when it all started. Damian had stayed on earth at first before going to apokolips. Damn he hadn’t seen it since he got resurrected.

Darkseid: oh. I remember you.

Damian: mhm?

Darkseid: ah yes, the little boy who was resurrected here.. the chaos share, your father used it on you.

Damian: i know. i remember what happened. I was there afterall.

Darkseid: I wonder if you are as smart as the original batman.

Damian: i am.

• damian was buying time. he was waiting for reinforcements, namely the people who had powers and could take him down. damian wasn’t stupid. he realized darkseid liked to talk. his friends were fighting off the female furys or whatever they were called. he just had to wait and entertain.

Darkseid: quite the ego there.

Damian: i saved the justice league when i was 13, i deserve to have an ego.

Darkseid: oh, you are by far more talkative than the original.

Damian: thanks.

Darkseid: not a compliment, you fool.

• yeah so. darkseid tried to kill damian, with a beam thing. Damian was about to flip away like the baddie he is, but. jon. went out and yk. took the hit. dumbass.

Damian: you have such a big hero complex.

Jon: wow I just saved you and that’s what you say?????

Damian: yes.

• anyways, after they defeat darkseid, jon pops out a ring from his pocket and asks damian to marry him on apokolips.

Damian: you seriously couldn’t wait til we got on earth?

Jon: dames you almost died. what if- what if something happens, I’ve been putting this off for so long. cmon please?

Damian: you’re seriously asking me to marry you here where, I’m pretty sure, a lot of shit happened to our parents here.

Jon: no time like the present.

Damian: fair. okay.

Jon: just okay???

Damian: im sorry, do you want me to cry or something?

Jon: ughh, you can be so extra and petty sometimes.

Damian: i am not being petty.

Jon: just because I ask you to marry me here you wanna be like “okay” and that’s it

Damian: you’re so dramatic. I’ll marry you. I wanna marry you. Better?

Jon: yeah:)

[kiirokero]

Outro: Love is Not Over (7)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,

Warnings: Family issues, mentions of adoption, mentions of abandonment, mentions of anger issues, some nasty words are said, self-doubt, I think that’s it (?)

Word Count: 1.8k

Note: Ah, I’m sorry for the angst. But it’ll get better! Soon :(

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

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“W-What? Baby no...” 

      Tears started falling from Yunho’s eyes as he held on tight to his stuffed animal and buried his face into my chest. I held him close and put my hand on his back, gently rocking him back and forth. “Baby, why’d you ask that?” I whispered to him. 

      Yunho took in deep, shaky breaths as he tried to calm himself the way I taught him. “I-I was at school... a-and that boy asked me...” He hiccupped, I continued to rock him back and forth, petting his hair just the way he likes it. “Hey, baby, it’s okay,” I kissed the top of his forehead and hugged him tighter. 

     But Yunho just cried harder, holding onto me as tight as he could. “H-He said that... Y-You can’t be my Eomma c-cause y-you... You don’t have ears... Or a tail...” His words made my heart squeeze. It hurt. It hurt to hear those words come from Yunho. 

      It’s not that I never expect these things to come up. We talked about it regularly, the two of us. Yunho knows I’m human. Yunho knows he didn’t get his hybrid features from me. Yunho knows he... had a father. He doesn’t ask about him. Whether that be because he doesn’t care or it confuses him to know that he had a father, but not anymore... I wouldn’t know. 

     However, just because I knew this would happen, didn’t mean my heart hurt any less. “Oh bub, I may not be a hybrid, but I’m still your Eomma,” I whispered to him. Yunho nodded into my chest, sniffling. “And you can tell Eomma anything, okay?” I said, pulling him back so he could look at me. 

      Yunho’s lip wobbled as he whispered, “Anything?” I nodded, smoothing down his frizzed hair, “Anything,” Yunho looked away from me before he whimpered, “When I said that you were my real Eomma... He didn’t believe me and asked if my Appa was human too...” His voice started to crack and new tears pricked the corner of his eyes, “When I said I-I don’t h-have an Appa... He asked why... But I don’t know why Eomma...” Yunho sobbed, coughing as he attempted to choke down his cries. “Why don’t I have an Appa, Eomma?” 

      I bitterly held back the tears that threatened to spill out of my eyes. This was about Yunho, not me. Even though I wanted to hold Yunho tight to my chest and sob with him, I couldn’t. Even if I wanted to whisper to him that I didn’t know, and that I was sorry, I had to pull myself together by the thin threads I’ve been using to sew myself up for years. 

     Yunho continued to sob as I wracked my brain for an answer. How was I supposed to tell my son that his glorified sperm donor wanted nothing to do with him? I can’t. “Hey, baby, look at me,” I cooed, cupping Yunho’s wet face and turning it towards mine. “Baby, remember what Eomma taught you? Deep breaths, okay? Eomma’s here, you’re okay,” I whispered to him as Yunho tried his best to take deep breaths. 

      We both sat there for 5 minutes, taking deep breaths together as we listened to the crickets play their harmony outside. “It’s okay, baby,” I whispered to him as his breathing steadily calmed down. “Some families, like us, only have Eommas. Some only have Appas. But we’re still a family, bub,” I explained, desperately trying to avoid the topic. 

      Luckily, it worked. Yunho nodded in understanding and held me tight, nuzzling his nose in the crook of my neck. “I love you Eomma,” Yunho whispered to me, and I felt tears prick up in my eyes again. “I love you too, bub,” I whispered back, desperately blinking back my tears. 

“Why don’t I have an Appa, Eomma?”

      Those words will forever haunt me, and I knew it. If only I could give Yunho the perfect family. A father that could love him and guide him in ways I couldn’t. A father that could teach him how to lift his other ear. He’s been working so hard on it. A father that could teach him what being a hybrid should mean to him. I couldn’t do that. But god I wish I could. 

Why couldn’t you be a good person, Chul?

      It was a rainy day. A thunderstorm was rolling through town, making the small apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Chul, frigid. The chill air was wafting through the broken window in our living room. The cracked glass a grim reminder of the anger issues that plagued Chul. 

      I could still hear the yelling in my ears, even if it was 2 days ago. I could see why he got upset, it was a bad day at work, we all had those days. But he didn’t have to take it out on the window. Now you were stressed with calling maintenance to explain that Chul had, yet again, damaged something in the apartment during a fit of rage. 

      I sighed, wrapping the blanket around my feverish body tighter. I wasn’t feeling too good this morning. When I woke up, I felt nauseous and light-headed. I could barely pull myself out of bed, but I persevered and got up anyway. I didn’t want to hear from Chul that I was being lazy. I already felt like shit, I didn’t need his accusations making it even worse.

Arguments seem to be the only words we exchange with each other nowadays.

     But it was just getting worse, and I didn’t know what to do. I rashly decided to pick up my phone and call Yoongi. He was smart, he’d know what to do. After a couple rings, Yoongi finally picked up with his same dull tone. 

“Sup buttercup?” He asked. 

“Yoongs... I’m not feeling so well this morning...” I groaned, swallowing down the sickening lump in my throat. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, a little more animation in his voice than before. 

“I just feel sick... and hot...” I complained, sinking into the couch. 

“Sick in the sniffles way or puke way?”

“Puke way,”

“Damn, did you eat anything funny?” I could hear the worry in Yoongi’s voice as he asked his question. 

“No, nothing like that,”

“I’ll send Hyejin over to watch you, okay? I call you after I’m done with work,”

“Okay, thanks Yoongs,” I slurred, feeling exhausted suddenly. 

“It’s nothing, feel better soon, yeah?” 

      Soon, Hyejin arrived with a bag full of medicine and my favorite snacks. “I heard your not feeling your best,” Hyejin gave me a sympathetic smile as she placed her hand on my forehead. “You’re quite warm, but you’re not burning up, which is good,” She hummed, setting down the bag on the coffee table and sitting across from me on the couch. 

      Hyejin continued to ask me questions about what I ate, what I did, if anyone I was around was sick. I answered no to every question. Explaining that I felt heavily nauseous this morning, but it got better throughout the day. Now I was just squeamish and warm. 

     “Alright, you don’t have a cough, or a stuffed nose. You don’t have the symptoms of anything, really. And if you didn’t eat anything weird, then it can’t be food poisoning.” She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Ya know, it was kinda like me when I first got pregnant-” Her eyes suddenly widened in realization as she looked at me. 

“W-What...?” I asked nervously. 

     “No no no no. This cannot be happening. Hyejin, this can’t be happening!” I sobbed as I threw the positive pregnancy test across the bathroom and collapsed on the tile floor. Hyejin quickly knelt down beside me and held me in her arms. “Hey, Y/n it’s okay. It’ll be okay,” She said, holding me tight. “No! You don’t understand! Chul will kill me!” I cried, laying my head on her shoulder. 

     “Y/n it is not your fault you’re pregnant. Birth control never prevents these things 100%. You’re just... One of the odd ones out,” She soothed, her soft tail wrapping around my shaking form. “What do I do?” I whispered, holding Hyejin close to me. 

“It’s entirely your choice. But whatever you decide, Yoongi and I will be there for you no matter what,” Hyejin promised. 

“I have to tell Chul...” I whimpered out, feeling the chilling claws of fear wrap their arms around my throat. “God, I have to tell Chul...”

“When is he coming home?” Hyejin asked. 

“Soon... He said he should be home around 3pm,” I explained, standing up on my shaky legs. 

      Hyejin stood up next to me and grabbed the pregnancy test I threw, ushering me out of the bathroom and back on the couch. “When he gets home, we’ll explain what's happening, and work through it okay?” Hyejin explained, taking my hand in hers. I nodded, too choked up to speak. “Y/n,” Hyejin called, getting me to look at her, “Whatever happens, you always have Yoongi and I, okay?”

And with what little hope I had, we did tell Chul. 

But I’ll never forget the words we exchanged. 

The argument we had. 

“Whatever. I want nothing to do with you or that thing growing inside you.”

Yunho I wish I could tell you that your father was a good person, and that he loved you. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth...

      After Yunho and I had our moment, he refused to go to sleep. He was stuck to my side like glue. “Eomma, don’t go,” He said when I tried to tuck him in for the night. And I didn’t. I knew that sometimes the last thing a person needed was to be left alone. Yunho needed someone to ground him, and I was more than happy to be that someone. Even if I, myself, was crumbling. 

      So now the two of us were sitting on the living room couch watching late night re-runs of old cartoons that I remember watching when I was 10. We just cuddled in silence. Yunho snuggled into my side while I wrapped around his tiny frame. Suddenly my phone rang, Hoseok’s face popping up on the screen. 

      I starred at the faltering picture of the man that lit up the screen. He was occupied with reading a book to the children he was teaching that day. Hyejin sent me the picture. Saying that he was “father material”

      “Hello?” I answered, putting the phone up to my ear. Not wanting to think about Hoseok’s “father material” any longer. “Hey Y/n, are you two okay? You seemed pretty worried when you had to leave,” Hoseok asked. I cringed, feeling bad about having to leave him all alone. I made a note to make it up to him when I felt better. 

     “Um... Yeah.. Yeah, we’re okay just- Family... Issues... Yunho’s a bit upset,” I explained, holding Yunho just a little bit tighter. “Oh no. Is there anything I can do?” He asked, worry laced in his voice. I chuckled, finding his worry for us cute. “I don’t think so, Hoseok... “ I sighed. “Wait! I know! I have ice cream. I can come over and we can chow down. What do you say?” Hoseok offered, and I could almost see the cute smirk that was most likely plastering his face. 

“Sure, why not?” 

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 8

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut 

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh

Masterlist

For Baekhyun, the first half of the week was spent preparing. For the first date of all first dates. A first date that would be heart flutteringly romantic, yet private and comfortable. Exciting, but also intimate. Something where he could talk to you, where he could touch you if he wants, where nobody else could see and judge. But also somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to bend you over and take you if you decided to start teasing him again. That would need to wait until after the date, for which he also had big plans. 

 Endless phone calls were made. Flowers, chocolates, and champagne needed to be bought. His mind was set, this date would be nothing short of perfect. So perfect in fact, that you would have no choice but to fall for him the same way he’d fallen for you. The man was dedicated. 

First though, he needed to ask you in a way that would guarantee a yes Baekhyun, I would love to go on a date with you, and not just an ‘okay’. 

His first stop was the florist, owned by his friend Minseok. It was a quaint little shop where he knew he’d be able to get a perfect custom arrangement with all your favorite flowers. Little did you know Baekhyun had used his professor status to look up Mia’s school email, and had been in contact with her in order to make sure he got the best possible things to fit your preferences.  

“Lilies and roses, those are her favorites. As many of them as you’ll give me.”

Minseok ended up putting together a box, a wide white cylinder overflowing with lilies and roses in all shades of white, red, and pink. It was big, a bit extravagant, and quite expensive. But Baekhyun did not care, if anything he was trying to go as over the top as possible, to really show how much he cared and wanted to make this special. No purchase was too large, no gift too much. 

The chocolates were imported from Switzerland. A large box with endless flavor varieties, each one more delicious than the last. The last time he’d had them had been on vacation in Europe, and it was not so easy for him to get his hands on them outside of the EU. But after a few phone calls, he had them on their way over with 2-day shipping. 

Baekhyun wasn’t one to usually spend much money at all. Not because he didn’t have it, he just didn’t feel the need. He had a nice home and a nice car. There wasn’t anything he regularly bought, aside from food. Most purchases would either be related to movies and games online, or would be for his friends. 

But he loved spending money on you, because for the first time in his life there was a girl who cared about more than just his family’s wealth. You actually cared about him. He’d never wanted to spoil someone like this before out of fear that they might only stick around for the financial benefits, but that didn’t worry him when it came to you. He found it almost laughable that after so many years of dating ‘proper’ women, women his family would’ve liked, women who looked great on paper but brought him no excitement and used him for his money, he finally found someone who actually cared for him at a strip club. The universe sometimes works in mysterious ways, he told himself. 

Once the chocolates had arrived and he had acquired the flowers, it was time to get going. 

~

Wednesday afternoon you and Mia decided to put away your homework for a while and bake something together. Apple pie was the agreed upon project for the day. You were in the process of slicing up the apples when you started to wonder just what was taking Baekhyun so long, after all he’d already told you he was going to ask you out. Why couldn’t he just do it? 

“I wonder why Baekhyun still hasn’t actually asked me on a date yet, he said he was going to on Saturday and it’s Wednesday. Do you think he might’ve changed his mind?” 

Mia had to work to hold back her smile. Not only did she know when he planned on coming to ask, she knew the exact flowers and chocolates he was bringing, as well as the date and time of the date itself, all of which Baekhyun had carefully discussed with her. 

“He definitely hasn’t changed his mind, that’s for sure. He’s probably just taking his time to make sure it’s special.” 

“He’s only asking me on a date. He could literally just text me. It’s not like I’ll say no anyway.” 

At that, Mia couldn’t help but crack up. Maybe that was the norm for college guys, but Baekhyun? Ask you in a text? After everything he’d done? It was laughable. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing!” Mia said and put two hands up in the air in defense, but you’d known your best friend for long enough to tell when she was lying. 

“You know something. Tell me.” You demanded, taking your apple slicing knife and pointing it towards her. 

“Get that away from me! And my lips are sealed, sorry.” 

No matter how much you annoyed her about it, she wasn’t going to tell you. Not only was she sworn to secrecy, she wanted you to enjoy the surprise. 

“Come on, did he say something to you? Just tell me.” 

“I’m not saying anything. You’ll just have to see, but I promise it’ll be worth the wait.” 

“You are so evil.” 

“You still love me” 

The pie was eventually assembled and put into the oven, at which point you returned back to your own room to continue doing homework. Mia stayed out in the living room, since she knew there was a guest arriving shortly. 

~

It was finally time for Baekhyun to go to your house to ask. After approximately 30 minutes of just making sure his hair looked right, he finally grabbed the chocolates and flowers and got on his way. 

It was a pretty warm day, but even with the AC blasting as high as it would go Baekhyun was still sweating. He knew you would say yes, but his hands felt slippery on the steering wheel of his car anyway. It had been almost 5 years since he had last done this, since he had asked a girl out. It had been even longer since he’d asked someone out that he was actually excited to spend time with, and really hoped would say yes. 

The closer he got to your home, the more nervous he became. He couldn’t even explain to himself why. He knew you were home, he knew you would say yes, he knew you were free the day he was going to take you out, and he knew he had the perfect gifts. This was exactly why he’d interrogated Mia via email for days, but when it actually came down to it he couldn’t help worrying. What if you were mad that it took him so long to ask and wouldn’t wanna go anymore? What if something came up last minute and you wouldn’t be able to? He wasn’t sure if his heart would be able to take a response like that. Especially since setting up the date itself had been a whole other story, one that not even Mia knew about. 

Baekhyun could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he got the chocolates and flowers out of his trunk and started walking up to your front door. When he knocked, Mia was the one to answer. 

“Hi Baekhyun!” She said, looking him up and down, and then to the flowers and chocolates he was holding, a wide grin on her face. “I’ll go get her.” 

You heard your name being yelled from the living room so you peeled your thighs off your desk chair and made your way into the common space to see Baekhyun, holding the most enormous flower arrangement you’d ever seen. 

Mia went to her room, leaving you standing before him, slightly flabbergasted. 

“Sorry I didn’t do this sooner, but can I take you out on Saturday?” He asked, peeking over the mountain of flowers that hid the bottom of his face. 

You immediately grinned and nodded enthusiastically, pulling Baekhyun through the doorway. You grabbed the flower arrangement and set it down on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch with him. 

“I would’ve asked days ago already but I wanted to bring these too and it takes a little while for them to get shipped from Switzerland.” 

The flowers had distracted you so much you hadn’t even noticed the box of chocolates he was holding as well. 

“Baekhyun this is crazy, how much did all of this cost?” 

He only rolled his eyes. “You know none of that matter, I just want to make you happy, okay? And you like them right?” 

“Well of course I love chocolate, and the flowers are beautiful, roses and lilies are my favorites.” 

“I know.” He grinned at you.

“I never told you that?” 

“I might’ve found your friend’s school email...” 

Your eyes widened. “You did not-” 

“Professors have access to every students files and that includes school email addresses, and you mentioned her a few times so I figured I would ask her some stuff.” His hand made its way to the back of his neck and he looked down at the ground nervously. “Sorry if that’s weird, I just wanted to make sure I’d get the right things and that you wouldn’t already be busy or anything.” 

You smiled “It’s alright, this is definitely the most anyone's ever done for me for a first date, or any date for that matter, sorry if I don’t really know how to act right now.” 

“Nobody’s ever bought you flowers or chocolates before? Really? Are those boys you go to school with that dumb?” 

“I don’t really date around much anyway, and maybe once or twice for valentines day or something, but definitely never like this.”

“Well you deserve to be showered in flowers and chocolates all the time.” He smiled and grabbed the box and untied the fancy looking ribbon holding it together, and removed the lid. “Try one, this stuff is crazy, no other chocolate has been the same since I first tried it on vacation in the alps a few years ago.”

Of course he went on fancy European vacations. You wondered if someday you’d get to tag along. 

He picked a piece and held it up to your mouth and you took it between your lips. He was right, it was amazing. 

“Oh my god this is so good. Holy shit.” He was right, this would pretty much ruin all other chocolate for you. 

He watched you as you finished eating it and placed a hand on your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his. “Give me a taste.” 

He pulled you in for a slow open mouthed kiss, savoring the flavor of the chocolate on your tongue and leaving you breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get used to the way he kissed you. He was so good at making you feel like your insides were melting with desire it felt almost dangerous. 

“You’re intoxicating, I could kiss you all day.” He said as he pulled away from the kiss just enough to speak. You could feel his breath on your face and his eyes as they bore into your own. 

“Oh come on you’re just saying that because of the chocolate.” You laughed as you pulled away further, face now a bright shade of pink. 

“The chocolate is amazing, but your lips are even better.”

“God you’re so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes at him, but he still just smiled back. “So where are you taking me Saturday?”

“It’s a surprise, I’ll pick you up here around 3:00 and it’ll be a bit of a drive but I promise it’ll be well worth it.” 

“Can you give me a hint at least? Will there be food? What should I wear?” 

“Yes there will be food, and just wear something comfortable and weather appropriate.”  He considered it for a moment, trying to think of something that wouldn’t be too obvious. “It’s an outdoor thing, and something I’m almost 100% sure you’ve never done before, but that’s all you’re getting out of me. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You’re so mean.” You pouted. “You make me wait for days and now you won’t even say where you’re taking me.” You really wondered what was so special that he couldn’t just tell you. It was only a first date so it wouldn’t be anything that extravagant anyway right? 

“Once you see you’ll understand why I want to keep it secret, just trust me, okay?” You rolled your eyes again, “Hey, y/n, look at me.” 

He put his hand on your thigh before giving you a serious look. “I know this might not seem like that big of a deal to you, but it’s been over 5 years since I’ve taken someone out like this, and even longer since I’ve been this excited to. I just, I really want to make this special, so can you trust me?”  

You gave him a soft smile and a nod. “Of course, I'm impatient is all... And I haven’t really done this in a while either...” 

“It’s really shocking to me how someone as beautiful as you doesn’t have a constant stream on boys trying to take you out.” You chucked, and thought back to Lucas and how he’d asked you to a party. 

“Me and college boys don’t really mix well, I’m not someone who enjoys big parties and they usually aren’t really interested in getting to know me anyway, or once they do they realize I’m just a boring STEM major. You saw that guy Lucas, I’m sure he was just hoping I’d go party with him and get wasted enough to end up in his bed. No thank you.” 

“He was so pushy too.” Baekhyun said as his face fell into a frown at the unpleasant memory. 

“Boys will ask me out sometimes, sure, but it’s always just to a party or a movie or something, somewhere you can’t really have any kind of meaningful conversation anyway, so I assume they just want to sleep with me. And I’m not really interested in that.” 

“You seemed more than happy to let me rail you in my office last week.” Baekhyun laughed, making your face blush an even deeper shade of red.

“That’s different!” You said in defense, giving a light slap to his shoulder. “You’re not some college boy, and we have technically known each other for a while already.” 

Baekhyun had a wide smile plastered on his face again, “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m the one who had to keep it from happening.” 

“Which I still think was pretty lame of you...” 

He caught your eyes again, before leaning in to whisper in your ear, “Baby I’ll make sure that was worth the wait too.” 

You shivered, and as soon as he had pulled away you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him and pull him into another kiss. He quickly deepened the kiss and pulled you onto his lap. The two of you sat like that for a while, exploring each other’s mouths, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of it. Eventually you ended up laying down next to one another, still kissing lazily in each other’s embrace. You knew better than to escalate it into anything sexual now, so you just enjoyed the softness of his lips on yours and his arms wrapped around your waist. 

After some time Baekhyun had to go, and you thanked him again for the chocolates and flowers. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Mia emerged from her bedroom. 

“See! I told you he’d ask soon! Also, he’s even cuter in person.” She giggled and you laughed in agreement. 

“Did he seriously email you about me? What all did he say?” 

“He asked about your favorite everything pretty much, when you’d be home this week for him to ask you, when you’d have time over the weekend, all that. I assumed you wouldn’t mind missing work for the date so I told him Saturday night.” 

“Was there anything else? Any idea where he’s taking me?”

“No, I asked but he wouldn’t tell me either. It was really cute though, the way he was talking about you. He’s seriously whipped.” 

“You don’t say.” You laughed gesturing towards the huge flower arrangement and box of chocolates still on the coffee table. 

“You have to tell me where he takes you, I’m really curious. Did he tell you anything?” 

“Just that it’s outdoors and I don’t need to dress fancy.”

You could tell Mia was thinking, trying to figure what it might be the same way you had. “A picnic maybe?” 

“That feels almost not fancy enough for him, but I don’t know. I really can’t think of anything outdoorsy that nice.” 

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to find out! Come on, let’s cut into this pie.” 

The evening was spent eating pie, and with Mia showing you Baekhyun’s emails to her. They made you feel like your heart might explode from the sweetness and consideration he had when planning everything. He’d even made sure to get you milk chocolate rather than dark chocolate. There were a plethora of other seemingly unrelated questions as well, including your favorite snack foods, colors, and more. You felt a little bad for how much he’d asked her about. 

As the hours went by, you were looking forward to the date more and more.

 Saturday afternoon couldn’t arrive soon enough. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Sorry this one is late and a bit short, but the next update will be *much* more exciting I promise ;) 

[thewritingstar]

Beautiful Revelations

Pairing: Gruvia (I know its been a hot ass min)

Fandom: Fairy Tail 

tags: @shellielyzabeth @be-dazzled @nostalgicxslumber @unvalley @tigerfire54

Note: It has happened. I have written 200 fanfics and idk if I should be proud or slightly scared. (feel free to skip this omg why is it so long) 

I want to say thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged or interacted with me in any way. I have always had a feeling that no matter what I write, I wouldn’t matter. But every comment and sweet note left made me realize that even if its just a smile or enough to make someone hit the like button, I made a small difference or added something to the fandom. Most of my fics are quick drabbles full of spelling mistakes, random thoughts and love for the characters. I know I don’t write very long stories or finish my wips (why are we surprised) but even though Im not someone people look to as a big author, each of you have made me feel special. There have been many times, this year especially that I had decided to give up writing. “Im not good enough and no one will even notice” Thats what I told myself if I decided to just back away. But every so often I would look and see that someone new or old had read my work. Every time someone reads something I wrote, I go back and read it too. I look at all the tags and see every comment and I stop and smile and remember how much joy it brought me when I first posted. 

When I first started writing, I thought that I wouldn’t have a place. Yet in a very short span of time, I was welcomed with open arms and people started to tune in regularly for my fics. I had been given many nicknames such as Gruvia goddess, angst queen, satan (yes I know the fic0 and well even Star. 

During my darkest moments, my mind lingered to my writing and to my internet friends. without hesitation I could message someone and feel better and be given the reassure I need. I can't even begin to say how much it means to me that people actually enjoy my writing and even me as a person. 

I thank each of you for giving me a joy that was considered a luxury at one point and allowing me to write whatever I wanted and you took it with love and made me happier than I have been in years. To all the people who made art or wrote me something, it means so much to me. 

Im not saying that this fic is my greatest but I think it has a special place because It shows the growth over time. 200 fics is a lot and whether or not they were all good, it doesn't matter because I did that and I can say that im proud. Im sorry for all that sappy shit but I wouldn't be where I am without you all. 

-Star <3 

ps: im not dying or stop writing fics im just happy lol 

---

  “There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a               heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.”

― Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

---

It was the nights like these that she hated most. The cold would creep through the blankets and make her shiver as her eyelids hung heavy. She could be ready to rest, let the sweet dreams guide her but instead those dark intrusive thoughts toyed with her like a fly on a freshly woven web. They would sprout out of nowhere, tangled with thorns and hold her mind hostage as it injected its sickly venomized thoughts for the night.

She always wondered how she got this far. She was one of the highest members of Phantom Lord, her abilities had rarely been matched. If she desperately craved, she could walk down the hallways and strike fear into the other members, no one could touch her. Hierarchies became a custom here. Once you made it to the top after clawing your way with blood, sweat and probably more blood, you were a god. Yet she walked in and in the next few minutes she was at the table with the master, already receiving a promise that she was special, a delicate and useful ally for the guild.

Special. What a swollen lie that turned out to be.

Maybe that's why she never bothered to search for a light, something to cure the rain. For every life she had bruised or ended, she wanted to feel the pain that followed. She needed to know the consequence of her actions, to be held accountable for ruining another family or taking something from the innocent. Instead she was celebrated.

The days turned to months and she found herself years later not knowing what anything meant anymore. Life used to be black and white. She would walk the side of the kind and good and now she was treading through a swarm of a morally gray compound.

These restless nights, she loathed them but then again, suffering was something that came naturally to her. The only person to ever knock her down was herself.

She climbed out of bed, fuzzy slippers over her feet as she walked to the bathroom. Her headache had worsened and she stared into the mirror. She had looked at herself a thousand times but… have her eyes always been that blue? No, she was tired and her vision was fuzzy, she was fine. Cold water came to her hands as she turned on the facet and splashed her face. Everything was the same as it always was. Expect for today.

Her order was simple. Defeat whoever stood in her way and make sure the Phantom Lord got Lucy Heratfilia. Why did they want some mage? She didn’t know but she was never one to second guess her orders. To go against what she was told was a waste of time, she would have been dead by the end of the day if she did. She had once believed that they accepted her with open arms, that Phantom Lord truly cared about her well being. It was a lie. A bitter sweet lie she allowed to remain in her head.

Hundreds of opponents had come before her. She was accustomed to the way of a battle and had harnessed her skill at a young age. The pure power of the rain pushed her further. She had an unlimited amount of power around her, unlike others, they would run out of fuel. She began to crave that god-like power. Allow the storm to rage on, all she had was herself and the droplets that followed. She understood she was an outcast. Love was never an option, not for someone who brought gloom everywhere.

But this afternoon, fate was a funny thing. She walked onto that rooftop, winning was the only thing on her mind, but he was there. A man who didn’t back down, a man who saw her as an equal.

Her heart began to race. It was forgien and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. She had felt attraction before but this, this was different. Something as small as a single glance had already spun her mind into a muddled mess. It would have been better if she turned around, if he didn’t engage in the fight. Then maybe she wouldn’t be thinking of him like this.

Love at first sight. That wasn’t real. No one could possibly have that happen. What could drive someone's emotion so wild that they become attached to a person in such a short time? And yet it happened. He stood there waiting for the next move and she could only gaze at him with rose colored glasses.

An enemy. A traitor. That's what she would be if she dared to let him escape. She couldn’t hestatite, she never did and now she was frozen in her spot as ice magic danced around her. Peoples magic and abilities never intrigued her, but this, this was beyond anything she had seen.

The light reflecting off of the ice as her droplets froze before her eyes was breathtaking and she hardly noticed that she was losing the battle. She never thought rain could look, dare she say, beautiful? But in this state of its frozen glory, it was all she could think about. She envied those who never had to stay in the rain, a jealousy she didn’t want to admit had festered over the years and she gave up trying to despise the element. But before her was something much more than the state she was accustomed to. Ice. The solid purity of her own and she had wondered what it would be like to hold it in her hands.

She had water locked him, pulled out all of the stops and even with that, he stood again and again. He had screamed that the water was boiling, burning his skin but never before had the water gone above warm. It was usually ice cold on the tipping point of freezing but she could feel the warmth surrounding her.

It shocked her just the same. She had heard people talk about feeling the sun kiss their skin, the warmth spreading as they walked, this was the closest she had felt to that. This warm rush of water was beyond what she had known and yet even as it tinged her hands it felt good, it felt freeing, it felt right.

It burned in a way she had craved for so long. Something other than the fridgeness she had grown used too.

She stared at her reflection in her mirror, tears brimming her eyes. How could one person she just met bring her something she had never felt before? She shut the light out in the bathroom and walked back to her bed, passing her window, she stopped and turned.

Above in the sky was the moon. A soft white glow surrounded the orb that she had never seen before. It was breathtaking. A cosmic power the normal people of the world didn’t dare to worship now became a luxury. The sky was clear and she could see the stars, she could sense them all. How could she have lived her entire life never once seeing the moon and the sun? She had been cursed to live in the rain forever.

But he-he made it stop.

When he grabbed her arm, it was like time had stopped. As if everything she had ever known was washed away and all she could see was a bright light encasing him. She was content knowing her death was coming, there was hardly a reason for her to live. Perhaps she wasn't even living, just surviving day after gloomy day.

He pulled her to safety, her back against the roof as she panted heavily. Those clouds above her moved like a curtain for a show, parting just so that she could see the enchanting mystery she had always craved.  

She had never known a blue sky till then. The brightness was almost unbearable as she stared into a sky she had never known. So many emotions flooded her head but it was clear as those ice crystals that her heart was beating for him. She was his enemy, they made that clear from the start but he hadn’t hesitated to save her. He showed a mercy she had never come across.

Another tear fell as she sat on her bed.

“He saved Juvia.” She whispered to herself. A horrific thought came to her. Would she have saved him? She didn’t want to know the outcome because deep down she believed she was good. Beneath the surface of unremosle power, there was that scared little girl who never had anyone to care for her.

The amount of days she sat in that orphanage alone sewing her dolls and praying that the rain stopped one way or another, it was as if she couldn’t remember it. He had done the impossible. He showed her the sky she hadn’t seen. He had shown her kindness.

A thought came to mind as she stood and packed her things. No more would she be known as “the rain woman”. No more would gloom be her only trait. She was determined to find something much more appealing than those bowing by fear. She wanted love. She wanted that warmth of the water constantly and the feeling of the sun on her skin. She understood it now. There was a power strong than her, stronger than any wizard that surrounded the other guild.

She had vowed to be done with love. Promised herself that no man could hurt her again. She was trembling at the thought of being vulnerable once more. The only time she felt warmth was the scorching burn of a fiery rejection and words that burned like lava. It was too much for someone to handle. So she pushed it down, locked the key and threw it as far as she could. The temptation though. The idea of letting her guard down for someone, someone she barely knew? How she fantasized of that moment. She had once believed that someone of her past had done that, but they were all the same. Ashamed of the rain, the rain she caused, the pain she brought.

And after their fight when she collected herself and tried to run back towards her guild, he stopped her.

“For what it's worth I think you’re an incredible wizard. You may not want to believe that your guild is dark and bad but, Fairy Tail is always open.” He had said it with such sincerity that she wasn’t sure if it were true.

“Juvia thinks your magic is just as powerful.” She had said before he gave her a smile and turned away to go back to his other guild mates.

And here she stood, a suitcases packed in the night and a note left on the desk. This guild didn’t deserve any words. Not when they feasted on her ability. Harvested those negative emotions and almost made her fall into the deep end.

She knew what they would say. They would call her a coward. A traitor and a worthless wizard, at first it was enough to stop her. Make her stay and perhaps bring back the clouds. However what he said stuck in her mind.

“I would rather die fighting than let your guild have Lucy! She is one of us and we don’t leave anyone behind.”

Without hesitation he made it clear that every member of the guild was valued no matter how long they had been there, they were a family. If something like that would have happened, if she were threatened, her guild would let her die without a second thought.

Never again would she allow someone to have a hold over her. She spent too many years sheltered by pain and deviation to go on like that.

She grabbed her bag and closed her door.

--

Juvia stood in front of the door. The morning would be better to do this but it was beyond dark outside and she didn’t want her intrusive thoughts pulling her back to her old guild. Softly she knocked, maybe hoping that he wouldn’t hear it and force her back to the isolation of fear.

The open clicked open and her eyes widened slightly as a sleepy Gray leaned against the door frame, shirtless and rubbing his eyes.

“Juvia?” He blinked and watched as her cheek puffed out in red. He looked down to see that he was only in his underwear and let out a yelp as he grabbed a blanket off the chair. “What are you doing here?”

“Um Juvia thought.” She paused and looked towards the ground. “Actually Juvia apologies for disturbing you.” Her back was to him and she began to walk away.

“Wait!” His hand caught hers and he pulled slightly. A jolt of warmth spread through her, burning her like a thousand suns as well as the chill of ice from his own temperature. She looked back at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Juvia, please just tell me.”

“Such kindness.” She whispered to herself. Her heart rate sped up just like it did earlier and she swallowed a breath. “Juvia was wondering…why did you save her?”

His hand dropped her as if he were shocked that she would dare question his action.

“I wasn’t going to let you die. Enemies or not, I don’t think you deserved that fate. I don’t believe that you are this evil person your guild made you out to be. To be honest when you fell, you look like you didn’t care what happened and I guess I saw myself in you.”

“You saved Juvia because you know what it's like?”

“To feel lost and hopeless I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Sometimes it's hard thinking you deserve to live, that it would be better to harbor all the pain of your past. I don’t know everything about you but that look in your eyes. I couldn’t let you go knowing that there was a brighter future ahead.”

A tear dripped from her eye. Her smile was soft as hugged her arms to her body. “You knew Juvia would join the guild.”

“Well I wouldn’t say I knew, but I was hoping that you would. If you still want to, that is.”

“Juvia would be honored.” She bowed respectfully towards him.

Gray smiled and bowed back. His eyes faced the sky looking towards the moon. “Have you ever seen it?”

“Tonight would be the first. Juvia thinks the stars are remarkable.”

“Lucy knows alot about them, I think you two would be good friends.”

Juvia shook her head as regret twisted in her stomach. “Juvia accepts your kindness and compassion but she doesn’t know if the rest will. Juvia was her rival, she understands if everyone doesn’t see her as a friend.” She frowned slightly.

A laugh came from the ice mage's mouth. “That's the thing about Fairy Tail, no matter where you come from or what your past may have held, there's always going to be a friend waiting.”

Juvia nodded. “Thank you Gray. Juvia will talk to your guild master tomorrow.”

“Like I said before. You’re an incredible wizard, you’ll be just fine.” He winked.

“Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

She watched as he entered his house before turning around and walking towards her hotel. Her shoulders felt lighter and she held her head high for the first time. This was her step in the right direction, this was where her new life began.

Time had slowed and allowed her to pause. A beautiful revelation she never knew could exist came to mind as she just realized that she was in love.

---

She looked down at her leg in the mirror. The voices behind her had faded to the background as she became entranced with the mark of Fairy Tail.

“The blue suits you.” She turned to see Gray standing there with a smile as he was focused on her guild mark.

To say that she was grateful was an understatement. Her mask she wore like a crown had shattered. It unravels in his hands as the months went on and all that was left was the person she wanted to be. She could finally let go of her ghosts, her darkness and begin to forgive herself.  

---

“What do you think?” He asked her as the white sky fell with snow.

Gray had told her of a special spot he used to go to when the first snow came. Past the forest was a clearing of grassy hills that would soon become a winter wonderland. Laid out on one of the hills was a blanket and a few lanterns.

She held her hand out and felt the tiny snowflakes collect on her hand. He sat behind her, one arm snaked around her waist while the other hand rose above hers and created a small flurry of snowflakes.

“Breathtaking.” She gushed. This was the first time she had seen snow fall. Her eyes followed the ice magic as it formed a heart and blew into the sky joining the other flurries. She turned so she could meet his eyes and his normal content face was replaced with a smile.

He leaned forward until their noses touched briefly. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He said and she only had a moment to process his words as his lips landed on hers and her eyes fluttered close.

Her hand went to his cheek as she leaned towards him, her energy matching his and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart. She would be embarrassed to say that she might have dreamt of this moment a little too much but it didn’t matter now. All she knew was that her beloved felt the same.

---

For once she was happy to hear a cry. That little whimper bubbling from the baby's mouth, her baby, she was in disbelief. Perfection was a rarity. No one was perfect, but the being with a tuft of dark blue hair and grey eyes would beg to differ. A child was never in her future. The thought came up randomly but the idea of raising a family wasn’t even a question.

During her missions in her old guild, she would walk past a family. She would see happy faces on everyone and would only be filled with envy and hatred. Disgusting was what it was. How could you love someone else when there was no love for you?

But times change. She would see others holding their child's hand and feel a warmth in her heart at how the children beamed up at their parents. She could sense the love all around them and would smile herself, hoping that it might become a reality for herself.

She would wake in the middle of the night, not from her demons but for her new reason to live. He would babble and tug at the locks of her hair and giggle when water magic danced before his young eyes.

---

It was nights like these that loved the most. The soft rays of moonlight casting shadows through her window as silk sheets wrapped around her bare form. She used to spend nights alone, only her pillow to catch her tears and now delicate fingers trail her backside as she listens to the thumping of his heart. His chest rises and falls as her own follows the rhythm. Her eyes flutter close as her tiredness grows untils it's interrupted by a cool press of lips under her ear.

A peaceful sigh leaves her lips as she tilts her head up to meet dark eyes gazing at her. Flushed cheeks was something she wore often and she lifted off of him to move further up and meet his lips with hers. He pulls her back to him, hating the emptiness between them and adores the way she shivers when his thumb traces her guild mark.

Their love was honest and raw. She had learned that nights like those in the past would haunt him as well. They would keep him up and plague his thoughts with images of death and destruction. But now, they lingered in the shadows, always there but something brighter and beautiful guarded them to peace and she focused on the way he breathed her name then the tears that dropped.

There was an overwhelming amount of happiness that she had gathered after all the years she spent in Fairy Tail. She found friendship and family bonds. Love in all forms that she cherished deeply. Her powers were seen as a gift to help others and lend a hand, not twisted into medled lies that she had spent so long untangling.

Her lips pulled from his slowly and their breaths settled between them. When she looked at Gray she found something more. She had freedom and rebirth. Forgiveness and lust wrapped into something more than love. Their bond was stronger than she could have ever dreamed and when he left kisses over her skin she wanted nothing more in life than to stay frozen in this moment.

He did the impossible. He opened a door, shined a light through her darkness and allowed her to accept the fact that she did deserve to live. She could cherish moments and keep them as her own without the threat of corruption. Her life was now her own to command and she did it with such grace and beauty that Gray couldn’t imagine her being any different. 

“I love you.” He promised and there was no doubt in her mind that he meant it.

“I love you too.” She responded.

The beautiful truth was that she was finally at peace and loved herself. 

---

I hope that you all enjoyed and thank you for being so lovely <3

[all-hail-the-witcher]

please, if you’re in the mood......... tell us more about pre-trials geralt

sorry this got buried in my ask box for a few days i run an ao3 tag blog also and things tend to get a little lost sometimes

here are my pre-trials geralt hcs:

-first of all, his Looks

-pre-trials geralt is Hot

-like okay, post-trials geralt is hot too but like you know what i mean

-he has long brown curly/wavy hair

-bright blue eyes

-his voice wasn't nearly as deep and rough, it was more smooth and he was very good at using it to sweet talk himself out of anything

-obviously he was tall, but like lean muscular, not as jacked as he is later

-and he was always smirking

-essentially he looked like that picture of henry cavill in the sweater

-this one:

-but his hair was a little longer and a little more curly

-and speaking of his hair

-he took much pride in it

-and he would do his best to upkeep his curls 

-he’d braid it, put it up, do fun intricate styles sometimes when he got bored and couldn’t sleep

-he wears leather bracelets

-and he always kept the laces or buttons on his shirt undone

-also he was a fan of just wearing the witcher equivalent of undershirts (chemises? idk)

-at that point he didnt have nearly as many scars, but he had a few from like training and shit

-in his opinion, they were enough to make him interesting and mysterious (and not a “monster”)

-he kept his shirts unlaced to show off the one slicing through his collar bone

-he would regularly work out shirtless (despite vesemir’s disapproval)

-and he’d put his freaking medallion between his teeth every now and then 

-his medallion is the equivalent of a fuck boys gold cross necklace

-essentially he's a fuckboy. a witcher fuck boy. 

-and everyone is in love with him

-and he knows it

-the younger baby witchers are so enamored by him (including one baby lambert) 

-and why wouldn't you be? he's attractive, he’s funny, he loves to pull pranks, and he can talk himself out of any situation

-oh thats the other thing about pre-trials geralt

-he talks. a lot.

-flirts with everyone. other trainees, the older witchers, even the mages (which comes back to bite him later)

-they claim he never uses the same line twice (he doesn't)

-he tries to learn as many languages as possible cause he knows people find it sexy when you speak another language

-and then there’s eskel

-he and geralt are Immediately Bros

-they look similar so they pull pranks on people 

-but it only works on the newbies usually cause everyone else can tell them apart by the fact that geralt’s far more outgoing and talkative and eskels a little quieter

-they know the whole keep inside out and backwards

-every secret passage, every room, every everything

-they hang out on the roof

-they have stashes of food and sweets and alcohol pretty much everywhere

-they “sneak out”

-and they throw parties

-well “parties” 

-which usually consist of getting a few other trainees together and drinking 

-they almost always get caught (cause hello they're in a keep full of fucking witchers) but geralt always talks them out of trouble

-they love pulling pranks on the mages cause they're so easy to annoy

-geralts the mastermind of all of them

-he steals their herbs, replaces them with other stuff, you know, classic hijinks 

-but they love trying to prank vesemir the most

-it never works

-but they still try

-and there are many rumors about geralt that circle the keep

-hes like the regina george of kaer morhen 

-people claim he's slept with everyone to the mages to trainees to witchers 

-he knows all these cool knife tricks and sword tricks

-part of witcher training at this point is being absolutely wooed by geralt

-so then the trials happen

-eskel and geralt have a big party the night before and for once vesemir doesn't try to interrupt because he knows most of them will probably die the next day

-and eskel and geralt are talking about how they're gonna have another big party after they all get through the trials 

-thats another thing

-most of the boys are at least a little terrified of the trials

-geralt is not 

-hes extremely confident and cocky

-he even picks his post trials name: geralt eric rodger du haute bellegarde 

-vesemir rolls his eyes, but knows there's no point in trying to change his mind 

-but anyway

-the trials happen

-geralt and eskel both survive along with a few others 

-and geralt’s eyes aren't blue anymore but thats okay cause he's still pretty much the same otherwise

-all the kiddos are relieved cause they likes geralt and eskel u know and if he can't survive the trials then what chance do they have?

-but then 

-one day a few days after the trials

-eskel notices that geralts not in their room and he's like hm cause they're still kinda recovering from the whole thing so where the hell would he go

-hes missing for a few days. maybe a week or two

-eskels freaking the fuck out

-no one knows where he is

-but then he's back

-but he’s not the same

-the mages got revenge on him for bugging them all those years by giving him extra mutations

-vesemirs pissed cause that wasn't what was supposed to happen

-geralts definitely different this time cause he lost more than just his eyes

-his long curls are gone, replaced by straight white hair

-he has fangs that make it awkward to talk cause he’s not used to them and he bites his lip

-even if he wanted to talk, that is, which he doesn't 

-cause during the extra mutations he had a potion that burned his vocal chords a little bit and now its all gruff and gravelly and it hurts to talk

-eskel realizes very very quickly that geralt is definitely not the same anymore

-starting with the fact that he refuses to look at eskel

-because they looked so similar before, so thats his biggest reminder

-eskel is extremely guilty and cuts his hair very short 

-but geralt still refuses to leave his room for some time

-cause now he thinks he looks and sounds like a monster, and he never wanted that

-everyone else though just falls more in love with him

-hes mysterious and striking and so different from all the other witchers

-he finishes his training as quickly as possible

-only speaking when absolutely necessary and otherwise just grunting (which everyone else finds incredibly sexy)

-he stops really caring about his body and just lets it gat scarred. it doesn't matter anyway what he looks like he's already a freak (in his head)

-and he doesn't flirt anymore. and he certainly doesn't smile. 

-and he changes his witcher name to something more simple and forgettable: geralt of rivia

-but the stories of him continue long after he's left the keep

-and on the occasion he comes home for the winter, the trainees all strain to catch a glimpse of the elusive geralt 

-every now and then when he gets really drunk he might crack a smirk or say one of his old pickup lines

-but other than that, pre-trials geralt is all but buried deep in his subconscious

-that is, until he meets jaskier

tag list cause i like these (hmu if you want on or off)

@percy-jackson-is-sexy-

@barlowarts

@eminasan

@llamasdumpsterfire

@stinastar

@nonegenderleftpain

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde

@geekymagicalpotato

@jaskierswolf

@toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account

@toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian

@littleredhotridinghood

@artemisthehuntress

@love-more-today-than-yesterday

@fontegagrilledcheese

@punksarcasticmisanthropicwriter

@acemoppet

@lookatgeraltmyboi

@gods-oopsie-woopsie

@eya-trying-to-function

@just-a-himbo-and-his-feral-bard

@julek