#not that tumblrs the only thing making me anxious/ deeply sad but its like

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

oh the tumblr news is….. actually bumming me out real bad

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph, got any good old (maybe new?) bedsharing fics for a fanfic obsessed lurker?

Thanks 😘

Hey Nonny!!

Hahha! I actually just did a list recently of my old ones, but I just double-checked my offline lists and I actually DO have some fics on my next Bed Sharing list, so GUESS WHAT? Your ask is the one to start the next Bed Sharing one, LOL.

As usual, if anyone has any they’d like to add, especially if they’re brand new fics, let us know! <3

BEDSHARING Pt. 5

See also:

The Speckled Blonde / BedSharing

BedSharing Pt. 2 and Insecure Sherlock

Bed Sharing Pt. 3

Bed Sharing Pt. 4

Bed Sharing “Just Happens”

Soft. Happy. Content. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 223 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Spooning, Morning After, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock reflects on his state of mind.

And When The Night Is Over by Simply Isnt On (K, 329 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Platonic Bed Sharing / Not Slash) – Sherlock and John sleep together.

I Knew You Loved Me by inevitably_johnlocked (T, 743 w., 1 Ch. || Morning Cuddles, Fluff, Clingy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slice of Life, Morning After, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Declarations of Love, Pet Name, Bed Sharing, Snuggles) – John and Sherlock share a lie-in the morning after their first time. So fluffy and gross your teeth will fall out. Part 4 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Sleep Tonight by Jenn1984 (T, 1,220 w, 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Worried Sherlock, Sick John, Hugs/Cuddles, Touch Neediness) – Fingers begin prying open his jacket looking for a wound and John would really like to swat at them. No, he's not hit anywhere, he's just damn sick.- John Watson has a fever.

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It's because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

Human Body Pillow by Lunavere (K, 4,122 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Sleepy Johnlock, Bed Sharing) – A story about the five times John fell asleep on Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock fell asleep on him.

The Myth by AGirloftheSouth (M, 4,329 w., 1 Ch || Sex Toys / Anal Beads, PWP, Romance, Bottom John, Prostate Stimulation) – Sherlock believes something to be a myth. John proves him wrong.

When We Sleep by PrincessNala (K+, 6,660 w., 1 Ch || Post-TGG,  Alternating POV, Bed Sharing, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Hugs) – Sherlock needed to feel every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was the only way to completely assure himself that John was alive and right there next to him, and not dead, no, never dead…

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[godblessthese20somethins]

106/365 (‘22)

what are some of your biggest regrets?

i think this is a great prompt for me to just tell tumblr how i’m having a career crisis. i work in education and i absolutely love mentoring the bright leaders of tomorrow. things i hate about my job include how unfair the overarching district itself abuses its power, steals and withholds pays, and isn’t as proactive regarding everyone’s safety against the pandemic. i’m thinking of returning back to graduate school to earn a master’s degree. i’ve been considering the notorious HR, business analysts or management, information systems, or clinical psychology. i care about how i invest myself for the future and want to make sure i can take care of myself no matter what. it’s always you first and never forget that. it’s not selfish to think that way because it IS reassuring that if you are able to care for yourself first; you can also take on someone else too. i’m not saying adding another person is a negative thing, but it is nice to give your most authentic, responsible self to another person. i want to make sure i can give that to my partner, my friendships, my family, everyone. i think it’s important to not be as irritated or stingy. it’s nice to be able to be with yourself— really be deeply rooted and aware before being there for others. i can’t stress that enough. anyways— all of my psychology friends return to graduate school after earning their bachelor’s because there’s too many psyc majors. the pay isn’t adequate enough and the work is meaningful. it’s emotional, intuitive, stressful, and really to-the-heart if you know what i mean. each human interaction is special because there’s 7 almost 8 billion people, tons of known animals, and many unknown that we can come across at any time and at different times. i want to wake up every day feeling like i don’t have to survive paycheck to paycheck, sidejob taking up my free time, and just losing my social life! i know my worth and there’s a path presented to me that’s easy, but i don’t want easy. a temporary, easy path for a lifetime of sadness is not what i want and i can see that before i even apply. i could go further in education but being in that can only do so much. i don’t want to bash on any teacher as teachers are literally so STELLAR that i am saying i’m not fit for it. i won’t be happy and i want to be more. learn more to grow and expand my mind more! i’m going to do it and apply to many master’s programs that i think will be worth it. being in education has at the very least have reminded me of how i love honing my skills and knowledge. i can absorb and repeat to show it’s on my brain!

omg anyways; tldr i gave up my dream of being a nurse long ago because i failed in biology in high school. ever since then, i didn’t think i was fit as someone that can be in stem. i was wrong. i took summer school in college and had extra mentors to help me retain information. i was so anxious and afraid from failure that i let it overshadow my goals and aspirations in life… and let them go. so if anyones ever reading this, don’t do what i did when it comes to failure. if you fail, fail with the attitude to come back harder than the previous time. take it as an “almost there, but not quite” and persevere. you got this and please feel free to get back to this whenever you feel like you can’t… because you can! its better to keep trying than to let go of your failures and to think later back in 3-4 years, why didn’t you just try? grow! GROW!!!!!

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 6: Crooked House

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Harry and Y/N find a house in the middle of nowhere.

Word count: 5k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

ANNOUNCEMENT: 

I’ve been so busy this week and I have an exam on Friday so there won’t be an update next week :’( Chapter 7 will be posted on Friday, September 11, 2020 on Patreon and Wednesday, September 16, 2020 on Tumblr and Wattpad. Love you guys so much! Thank you for loving this story!

.

.

.

Y/N woke up recalling Harry pulling her from the river and carrying her back to his horse. She recalled his hands on her skin, him whispering words in her ear to keep her from slipping away. It wasn’t until reality set in, and she found herself completely naked underneath the fur coat, that she knew it wasn’t just a dream.

She’d almost died, and he’d saved her, again.

She propped herself up, her arms shaking. She was in a cave, the horses were there and the fire cast eerie shadows on the walls. Harry was nowhere to be found. She would assume he’d left her here on her own if his sword weren’t lying there by their satchels. Outside, the birds were chirping.

How many days had passed?

She flexed her fingers until the numbness went away, secured the coat around herself and gripped a rock for balance as she got to her feet. Her joints cracked and her head spun a little as though there was still water trapped in the hollows of her ears. She thrust her feet into her boots and followed the faint light to the cave entrance, stepping out into the snow.

Her muscles were weak, and the cold almost knocked her over. She put a hand on the wall for support and was thinking about going back inside when Harry emerged through the white branches, shaking the snow off his hair.

He halted when he saw her. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, crossing the space that separated them. He was holding some dry sticks so he must have left the cave to collect them. “Go back inside. It’s too cold.”

“The air feels good,” she said, blinking slowly. He shook his head, his brows knitted as he rested his hand on her shoulder to spin her around, but she took his wrist. “Just let me stand here for a little while.”

Harry exhaled as he rolled his eyes and his hand fell away from her shoulder. Her pout had worked like a charm. “Do you feel better?”

She nodded and cleared her throat. “How long was I asleep?”

“Three days.” He sighed deeply. “You woke up a few times, but I assume you weren’t aware of it.”

She wrapped her coat tighter around herself then noticed that his eyes flicked away and a bit of colour brightened his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to do it. You were...dying.”

“I understand.” She tried to suppress a smile. It was funny to see him so flustered just from thinking about what had happened. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, giving a tight smile. “But...why did you go out on the ice?”

“I thought I saw someone,” she said, trying to recall what had happened. “I think it was just my mind playing tricks on me.” She didn’t fully believe that, as she could have sworn the woman had been real until she wasn’t. Thankfully, Harry didn’t ask more questions about it.

She held onto his arm as they walked back inside the cave. Her legs were still wobbly but she was growing more confident on them. She sat down by the fire, watching him feeding the flame with the sticks he’d collected and fumbling through his satchel for her clothes. He was still blushing when he handed them to her.

“I didn’t...k-know how to put them on for you,” he said timidly. She bit back a smile as he sat down beside her. Before she could thank him, he went on, “We’ll eat and then go back to Isolde, or do you need to rest some more?”

Y/N was taken back. “Go back?”

“Yes.” Harry raised his eyebrows. “We’re on our own and you’re unwell. You need to be returned to the castle.”

“But we’re already here.”

“We’re not very far from the castle.”

“No!” she snapped, making him flinch. “We’re not going back. If you want to go back, go alone.”

“I can’t leave you here.”

“So don’t!”

Harry said nothing, yet the reluctance in his eyes made her feel like bursting into tears. And so she turned away and roughly unfolded her shirt, not sure if she was angry at him or herself.

.

.

.

“What?” Y/N snapped as Harry kept on staring. “Have you not seen enough?”

He cleared his throat. He was supposed to look away for her to change. She was a queen and he could be beheaded for what he’d done. Though he didn’t know much about royals, he believed she must save herself for marriage, and he of all people should not have been the first man to have seen let alone touched her body.

“I just didn’t expect to see so many scars,” he heard himself say and immediately regretted it as she pulled the giant coat tighter around herself to cover as much skin as possible.

“And what’s wrong with them?” she asked, looking offended.

He shook his head fast, holding up his hands. “No, no, there’s nothing wrong. I only meant to ask if you got them from fighting in battles...”

She cocked her head to the side and gave him the kind of look that made him think she could stab him at any moment. But instead, she slipped her arm out of the coat and showed him the scar on her bicep.

“My brother gave this to me during our duel,” she said. “The cut was so deep they had to stitch it up. I lost so much blood that day that I passed out on the field and Lance had to carry me back to the castle.”

Harry didn’t realize he’d been gawking at it until she let out a breathy laugh and proceeded to show him a few more on her arms and legs. She didn’t go into details about them, only telling him she’d got them during the journey last year.

Harry wished he could remember. He wished he knew how he’d reacted to the things that had happened to her, or if he’d tried his best to protect her, and if he had, he must have failed, because now she was carrying these bad memories on her body, while to him, they didn’t even exist.

“What about the one on your back?” he ventured. And his face turned scarlet when he received a look of shock from her. He hoped it hadn’t sounded like he’d counted all the scars on her body and memorised them while she’d been unconscious. He hadn’t. But he had spent a lot of time watching her sleep.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he said when she didn’t respond. “I’m sorry for asking…”

Her lips arched at the corners when she met his nervous gaze. Slowly, she reached behind her back to feel the scar he was talking about.

“I got shot trying to save you in the ambush,” she said.

“Oh,” was probably not the best response, but it was all he could manage. She was staring, so he felt like he should say something else. “T-Thank you.”

“Why?” she snorted. “I couldn’t save you.”

“But you tried to.” And never had Harry thought someone would’ve done that for him. But perhaps it was just how the Queen was. Hadn’t she almost died because she’d thought she’d heard someone crying for help in a snowstorm and felt the need to jump off her horse to save the person? Harry didn’t have to get his memory back to know that she had a good heart. But would it do her any good or only bring her more trouble in the future?

He took a deep breath and shook off the thought. It wasn’t his place to question these things.

“Oh, there’s something,” he said as he suddenly remembered. “When you were sleeping, I think you were having bad dreams.”

Her eyes went round. “Oh?”

“You kept saying, ‘Do not take him from me,’ and that you’d find the lake to save someone from dying.”

The subtle change in her expression got Harry feeling anxious.

“This mission isn’t about Calanthe, right?" he asked. "At least that’s not the only reason.”

When her gaze fell to the floor, he knew that he was right.

“The King is sick, isn’t he?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. She seemed rather confused.

Harry raised both eyebrows. “You’re looking for the lake to save His Majesty because he’s sick?”

It took her a moment to answer with a gentle dip of her chin.

He thinned his lips and exhaled. “I’m sorry."

“But also for Isolde,” she said, not looking at him. “For Lance and Isolde."

Harry only nodded.

She must really love the King, because as soon as Harry had mentioned his sickness, the light in her eyes had gone out. Harry now felt like an arse for having touched her without their clothes on even though he’d only done it to save her life.

“Would he kill me if he knew we—” He widened his eyes to hint at what had happened. As her cheeks turned pink, he couldn’t help but agree with his past self that the name Peach really did suit her.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” she said, her eyes crinkled at the corners.

Harry thought about how lovely she looked when she smiled like that. When she really smiled. But of course, he wasn't going to tell her.

“Will I be invited to your wedding when we get back?" He grinned.

“If we make it back,” she said, lifting her shoulders and pursing her lips.

She looked sad again. And so Harry told himself not to mention the King's sickness until they’d found the lake.

He sat up straight and put on a tight smile. "Are you hungry, Your Majesty?"

.

.

.

“She’s looking for the lake?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said the Lord Chancellor.

Calanthe sank back into her chair and rested her chin on her knuckles. The room was so quiet that if there were a fly, she would be able to hear it flapping its wings. All eyes focused on her, waiting for the next thing she said. But it was another voice that broke that undisturbed silence.

“Your Majesty, I have a question.”

Everyone’s attention shifted to the man sitting on Calanthe’s right at the other end of the table. She motioned her hand for him to speak.

“I don’t understand why we haven't invaded the North,” he said. “We’ve got the upper hand now. Their cities are burning and the low courts of Isolde are in chaos. Now their Queen is absent, and the North is like a headless snake. Why do we have to wait when we can just win without a fight?”

Whispers passed around the room as Calanthe took a deep breath and tilted her head. “What’s your name?”

“Brion Warton, Your Majesty.”

“Sir Brion,” she said, lacing her fingers together on the table. “How long have you been serving in my court?”

“Ever since the King died, Your Majesty.”

“That’s not quite long, is it?”

“No, Your Majesty, I–”

“Guards! Seize him!” Two men violently yanked Sir Brion out of his chair, twisted his arms behind his back and forced him onto his knees. Nobody else made a sound as Calanthe gave her guards a dismissive wave. “Take him out of here and cut off his tongue.”

“Your Majesty, please!” cried Sir Brion, but no one dared to speak and ask the Queen to spare his life. Calanthe could see the fear in their eyes as the guards dragged Brion out of the room. They were just glad it wasn’t them.

Calanthe looked to her left and gave the group of men wearing black cloaks a satisfied grin. The Monks seemed proud of her. They were convinced she was the chosen one.

She’d been looked down on her entire life, been called a little girl and a whore, been told that she could not rule a kingdom. Well, look at her now. People feared her, and she had never felt more powerful.

“If you’re planning on staying in my court,” she said loudly, pulling all eyes back to her, “you ought to know that you don’t get to give me ‘advice’ unless I ask for it. And you don’t get to doubt me or question my decisions.” She looked at every single face to make sure they knew that any of them could end up a tongueless fool if they crossed her. “I bet a lot of you have the same question as Sir Brion but are smart enough to not ask it aloud. So I’m going to do you a favour and give you an answer.” She sucked in a breath, sitting up straight. “Y/N has set off to look for The Lake of Tears. No one has ever succeeded. We don’t even know if the lake exists. So chances are she’ll not make it back. That leaves the high court of Isolde for Lance Devanny, The Bastard King of Attwell. It seems like the perfect opportunity for us to take the North, right?”

A frightful silence ensued as people exchanged uncertain glances.

“Wrong!” Calanthe slammed her fist onto the table, startling several of the men. “Lance Devanny is a living saint in Attwell. He’s freed his people from his half-brother’s tyranny and is betrothed to the Queen of the second-largest kingdom. The low courts of Attwell worship him. They’d kiss the ground he walks on. So if we take advantage of this ‘opportunity’ and invade the North, who’s to say that Attwell would not fight for their King? And when the West is against us, so will the East and every living soul in Isolde who’s blindly pledged their loyalty to Y/N. We must be patient and win this war on the battlefield, so all one hundred kingdoms could see that I deserve to be their one true queen.”

With that, she pushed away from the table and got up. Everyone immediately rose from their seats.

“Court dismissed.”

Calanthe took her sceptre from a servant, and without a second glance at any of the frightened faces, she spun on her heels and sauntered out of the room.

A guard ran up to her when she stepped into the corridor. “Your Majesty!”

“Speak.”

“News from the North! They’d survived the snowstorm.”

“They?”

“Y/N and the thief.”

Calanthe lifted an eyebrow. “Good,” she said, a corner of her mouth arched. “If the spirits of the mountain don’t kill her first, we’ll make sure she suffers when she gives us what we want.”

.

.

.

Harry and Y/N had run out of food so they decided to go for a hunt. It was difficult to find prey in the woods during winter. Still, they managed to catch two rabbits and brought them back to the cave. Y/N had done the catching, killing and cooking, and Harry was mostly there for...emotional support.

It was funny how impressed he seemed watching her roast the rabbits on the fire. She felt his eyes on her and had to speak. “We used to do this all the time.”

“We?”

“You and I. Before you went missing, we used to go hunting together.”

“Oh.” His mouth formed a tiny circle, which made her laugh. “So I actually knew how to throw a knife at a rabbit?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “You were also there for emotional support.”

Harry scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe you. You could just tell me anything because I don’t remember.”

“If you don’t want me to manipulate you then you should try to remember,” she said it as a joke but deep down she hoped that he was still trying.

They finished their meal and Y/N had gained enough energy to set off. She waited for Harry to try to talk her out of it. If Lance were here, she knew that he would. But Harry said nothing as he saddled the horses and helped her mount Thunder.

They rode side by side through the forest, the cold settling beneath her skin. She was lost in her thoughts and worries when Harry decided to break the silence between them with a random question. “How did you and the King meet?”

She snorted yet didn’t look at him. “I was betrothed to his brother. Then he killed his brother and I killed mine. Now we’re King and Queen and soon to be married. Happy ending.”

“Wow,” Harry breathed. She didn’t know what to make of that reaction. “Couples who kill together belong together," he said.

She wanted to tell him that it was the exact reason why they belonged together. However, she continued to pretend that she was not interested in having this conversation, just so she wouldn’t end up saying the wrong things.

“Have I told you how I met Kenny?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied flatly.

Harry chuckled. It seemed like he didn’t get the hint that she wasn’t in the mood to chat about their ‘love interests’.

“So,” he went on, “have I told you that I have a sister—”

“I already met your sister, her husband, and your mother.”

This information made Harry shut up for a few seconds before he spoke again. “I was going to say you reminded me of my sister.”

This time, she allowed herself to look at him. His dimples made an appearance as their eyes met.

“Did my family know that I was serving in your court?” he asked.

“Yes. You used to write to them before Calanthe closed the border.”

Harry heaved a sigh of relief, and she could tell it’d been bothering him that he might have left his family without a proper goodbye.

She expected him to drop the conversation now, but then he said, “You know so much about me and I don’t know anything about you.”

“You do,” she said. “You just don’t remember. But if you’d like to be reminded, you can just ask me.”

“Anything?”

She shot him a warning look. “Make sure it’s appropriate.”

“I’ll try.” He smirked and pursed his lips. “Hmm. Let me think.”

And so he spent the next few moments asking her about her childhood, just boring questions about herself. But seeing him so excited and interested in knowing about her made her feel at ease.

They’d lost track of time as the conversations went on and on. They had no idea how long they’d been travelling until they saw a smoke pillar rising from the trees.

Y/N’s chest throbbed as the pictures of the burned village and black corpses flashed through her eyes.

But there was no village here. So where was the smoke coming from?

And so they kept on riding until a small lovely house appeared behind the trees, with its chimney blowing dark smoke into the white cloudless sky.

“Someone lives here?” Harry asked as their horses stopped. “In the middle of nowhere?”

“Probably another witch,” Y/N mumbled, trying not to sound worried despite her wavering voice.

She would suggest that they ignore the house and move on, but they were out of supplies and there might not be small animals for them to hunt as it was getting colder.

After a thorough discussion, they both agreed to walk up to the house and ask for food and water.

To their surprise, the door was left open.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed as Harry walked in as if he owned the place. He ignored her and dashed straight toward the fireplace. Taking off his gloves, he sat down and started warming his hands.

“Relax,” he told her with a smirk. “We’ll apologise to the owner when they return.”

Letting go a breath, Y/N timidly stepped in and looked around. The living space was small yet clean and cosy. Everything was made of wood. And in the corner of the room was a table with bread, meat and wine. Harry jumped to his feet as soon as he’d located where the wonderful smell was coming from, but Y/N snatched his coat and pulled him right back before he could make himself too comfortable.

“We’ll just warm up while waiting for the owner to come home,” she said, glaring at him. He heaved a tired sigh, looked regretfully at the food before returning to his previous spot by the fire.

Y/N shrugged off her coat, draped it over a chair and joined Harry on the carpet. She watched the flame dance in his eyes as he was completely mesmerised by it.

“Who do you think lives here?” she asked.

“Probably a lonely old lady,” he said with a shrug. “But it could be anyone. With all that’s happening in the North, this seems like the most perfect place to live.”

“You’re right,” Y/N murmured. She would rather have a life like this, completely isolated from the rest of the world, alone with Harry.

For a second, she didn’t want to go back or even go on.

She just wanted to stay here.

Her thoughts were cut off by the embarrassing sound of her stomach growling. She clutched it, face burning red as Harry chuckled and pushed up from the floor. He went to the table, took a loaf of bread, broke it in half and handed one half to her.

“We can’t!”

“The food’s all cold, Your Majesty. The master of the house is probably stuck somewhere in the storm and won't be back until morning.”

Y/N stared at the piece of bread in her hand and let go a shaky breath. “Fine,” she said. “Just don’t take anything else.”

Despite what she’d said, the two of them ended up eating everything on that table.

They’d been starving, and Harry reassured Y/N that with all that was waiting for them on this journey, dying in the hand of an old lady would be the easiest death.

By the time they’d finished the meal, the sky had turned dark and another storm was coming. The master of the house would certainly not return anytime soon.

Harry and Y/N let the horses into the house, spread a blanket they’d found on one of the chairs out on the floor and lay down together by the fire. The snow and wind were beating down on the roof and against windows, but the crackling of the fire and Harry’s slow breathing had drowned out all those horrifying sounds for Y/N.

For the first time in so long, she felt at peace.

“What if she’s a witch?”

“Who?”

“The lady who lives here,” she whispered and scooted closer until their shoulders touched.

His eyes fluttered open as he turned his face to her. “Then she eats us.”

She swatted his chest playfully and he burst out laughing. Both of them turned on their sides and lay face to face with one another.

He gave her a lazy grin. “Are you scared, Your Majesty?”

“Never.”

“I’m scared, though.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“You’re a big whiny baby so of course you’re scared.”

Harry snorted at the remark. “I am big, but not a baby nor whiny.”

“I’m just going to say nothing because I’m too tired to disagree,” she said, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

Before she nodded off, she heard him whisper, “Let’s just stay. Let’s never leave this house.”

“I agree,” she whispered back, yawning. “Let’s do that.”

She felt happy.

She was happy.

And she didn’t ever want to leave.

.

.

.

When Y/N woke up from a dreamless sleep, Harry was still sleeping soundly and the fire was still burning. Outside, the storm had cleared and the sky was growing light.

They were still in the house.

Good, she thought. They weren’t going to leave anyway.

Y/N pushed herself up and came to the table to find it full of food just like when they’d first arrived. Someone had prepared all the food for them while they were asleep.

She was right to have decided to stay here forever. There were food and fire and water and Harry – all the things that she needed to survive. Time didn’t matter here. She didn’t have to care what day it was. She could have been asleep for days and she wouldn’t even know.

Time made you weary. And she was glad to be rid of that burden.

She sighed happily and grabbed a chair, and a sting at her fingertip made her jump. A drop of red blood flooded the surface where she'd pricked her finger. She stared at it unblinkingly.

Reality rushed right through her. She snapped her head up and was horrified to find herself standing in front of a crooked table, empty and undusted, just like the rest of this place. It wasn’t the same lovely house they’d spent the night in. It was dark and filthy and looked like it’d been abandoned for ages. The sweet smell of wood was now the stink of a dead rat rotting in the corner of the room. The only thing that had been real was the fire, now burning in a hideous black fireplace.

Y/N stood completely still. Sweat formed on her forehead as her heartbeats thundered.

Harry finally awoke. He slowly pushed himself up from the floor, yawning and stretching his arms as he looked around the room to find her. From his expression, she knew he still saw the same room they’d been in. His eyes lit up as they spotted her. No, not her.

“Food!”

Y/N stumbled back as Harry rushed toward the empty table and grabbed a fistful of nothing and shoved it into his mouth. Then he started chewing.

“Harry!” She shook his arm, terrified. “Harry, we must leave. None of this is real!”

“Leave?” He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You said you wanted to stay here forever.”

“No, Harry, wake up. We can’t stay here forever. What you’re seeing right now...is not real!”

Harry grimaced as he roughly pushed her hands off him and took a step back. “I’m not going. We’re safe here. Everything we need–”

She charged forward and gripped his arms. “Is not here! We must go! I think this place is messing with our heads. We must get out of here.”

The fireplace flared to life, and Y/N jumped. The wind gusted against the house, groaning like a monster waking from its hibernation. The fire had caught on the dirty carpet and started spreading onto the walls and broken furniture. Y/N grabbed their coats and things as the horses kicked the door down and sprang outside. She seized Harry by the hand but he didn’t budge.

“Harry! The house is burning!”

“It’s not. You’re seeing things again, Y/N!”

She was seeing things? Was she the crazy one or was him? Or were both of them?

Y/N was frozen when Harry took her face between his hands. The smoke thickened quickly, burning her eyes but Harry seemed more concerned about her than the fact that they were going to die if he didn’t come with her. “You saw the woman in the forest and she wasn’t there, Y/N,” he said, his voice calm and soft. “We’re safe here. Trust me.”

“No,” she snapped. “You’re going with me. Whether you like it or not.”

He had the strangest smile. “Do you hear that music?”

“Harry–”

“It’s like a party!” Harry sighed happily. “Let’s dance. You love to dance, don’t you, Peach?” He swept her into his arms, turning her around and nuzzling his face against her neck. “Isn’t this everything you’ve wanted?”

She pushed away from him at once. The walls sighed, she could swear, as if it were making fun of them, taunting them before swallowing them whole. She coughed into her sleeve, feeling dizzy but Harry looked like he couldn’t even feel the heat. She must wake him. But how.

She grabbed his face and smashed her lips to his. When she pulled back, he was startled, then a light came to his eyes and he whisked his head around the burning room. He could finally see what she saw.

She grabbed his hand and he didn’t protest as she pulled him to the door. The roof fell and crashed right in front of them and they jumped out of the way just in time, coughing and pulling each other up to find their way through the blinding smoke. Harry nearly fell. Y/N had to yank him back to his feet. When they broke out into the cold air and tumbled down onto the snow, the crooked house collapsed right before their eyes and was completely engulfed in the vicious flame.

“What was that?” Harry asked, gasping for air.

“It’s this place,” Y/N said, tears welling in her eyes as she could not stop coughing. Harry’s arms sought her and pulled her close to him as they lay there in the light of dawn, shaking from terror.

So this was why most people who'd come here could not return to tell the tales. It wasn’t just the cold or wild animals or snowstorms. It was the magic or whatever power that was protecting this place from intruders.

The legends were all true. The lake existed.

[charmedseoull]

The Aftermath of Fanfiction Authors with Reba Interview

Before You Read the Interview

I contacted Reba after she posted a Reddit thread titled “When a fic becomes too popular and the author deletes their account and/or work. Explained.” on a throwaway account. We discussed details of the interview during December over email, then started the interview in January. This interview is not associated with a project and is its own independent work. Reba has chosen to remain anonymous.

She provides insight on potential reasons to why fanfiction authors abandon their work from the perspective of a fanfiction reader. She also answered general fandom questions and questions about herself so readers could understand her background.

Charmedseoul is a BTS-focused anonymous historian who documents fandom history using Fanlore. If you would like to be interviewed to help document perspectives in fandom, please contact her on Twitter @charmedseoul or on Tumblr @charmedseoull.

Parts of this interview have been edited with links to Fanlore and Wikipedia pages for understanding. Any information in [brackets] serves for further clarity for readers and elaboration of information.

Now presenting the interview with Reba, long-time fanfiction reader and participant in fandom:

When did you first join fandom culture?

I joined fandom culture in 2014. I feel like fandoms really peaked during this time. [Presence of SuperWhoLock and other Tumblr specific fandoms.]

What fandoms are you in? How have your experiences in them been?

I will be honest and say fandom culture isn’t for me- so I can’t say I’m active in any fandoms (I’m just a silent consumer) but growing up I was a fan of music artists mostly; Justin Bieber, Ariana Grande… I loved the IT 2017 movie adaptation for a long time (I still do), and early 2020 is when I got into BLACKPINK, then BTS. My experience with all of these has been good, and maybe that’s because I don’t see any of the drama and arguments online- but I don’t regret any of my past interests because they all made me happy at one point in time.

What do you like about fandoms?

 What I like about fandoms is how happy it can make an individual; getting excited for a new music video, smiling at behind the scenes photos… it can bring someone a little joy if they are having a bad day.

What do you dislike about fandoms?

I don’t like stan culture at all; fandom drama, arguing on twitter with strangers to defend an artist who doesn’t even know you… it all seems toxic. While I'm sure healthy stanning does exist, I don't think it's easy to achieve at all.

How long have you been an ARMY? What are your opinions about the fandom? How has your experience in the fandom been? 

I became an ARMY in early 2020 when Map of the Soul: 7 was released, so only a year. I really do like the fandom; ARMY is the only fandom I’ve seen where there are so many fans worldwide of all different ages, and that just shows how BTS and their music really is for everyone. There is so much BTS content that there’s never a dull day, so my experience in the fandom has been enjoyable!

Did you ever leave ARMY and take a break then come back?

 I’ve never left ARMY, that being said, I’m a newbie and haven’t been here for long.

When did you first start reading fanfiction? 

I have been exposed to fanfiction since 2014, but I wasn’t in any fandom back then and started reading fanfiction in 2017.

What do you think the purpose behind fanfiction is?

 We mostly read for entertainment but there is definitely a purpose to fanfiction, as for all art. Fanfiction is a great thing for both reader and writers, it can be an outlet for many people, a way to experience things that you don't have a chance to experience in your own life. It also can be a good base ground for people who want to start writing, or for someone who finds reading huge paperback novels difficult. Fanfiction is so easily accessible, you can pull up a story to read or share your work at the press of a button.

As you’ve read fanfiction over the years, do you feel like anything about fanfiction has changed?

Yes! Fanfiction is taken a lot more seriously now, people who write fanfiction treat it like an actual novel with plotting and editing- the quality of fanfiction in general is a lot better. Fandom ships have also changed; when I was a teenager Harry Styles fanfictions were crazy popular, now the fanfics that seem to be more popular are BTS! So that just shows when music evolves, pretty much everything else does too.

As a reader, how do you view authors?

I'm always amazed by fanfic authors because they practically write whole novels for free. Writing can be such a personal thing, and it does take talent; there is a story the author wants to convey, and when a story is told in a beautiful way, it leaves a lasting impact on the reader. I’m sure that must be a euphoric feeling for the author- it means they told their story, and they did it well.

Do you think many other readers share the same view as you?

No, not at all. There are readers out there who don’t really think about the time and effort authors put into their stories. I’ve seen readers expect so much, and criticise something so little. It’s sad- people should be able to write whatever they want, writing is supposed to encourage creativity. Authors shouldn’t have to fear backlash for doing just that. Being creative. 

Why do you think so many authors delete/orphan their work after it gains popularity?

When a story gains popularity- it attracts good and bad attention alike. Unfortunately the negative affects us a lot more, it’s just human nature. While authors do put their work out there, I don’t think they are ever prepared for their stories to become so popular. I am sure it is overwhelming and that’s why authors feel the need to distance themselves from it all and delete/orphan their work.

What stories prompted you to start thinking about why authors delete/orphan their works? 

I read a story called mixtape (IT movie) and I was around long enough to see chapters be uploaded each week. I also saw the struggles the author went through when their fanfic began to rise in popularity, which eventually led to the story being completely deleted from the internet. So I thought this could have been a one-off since I hadn’t read many fanfictions. I then moved onto BTS fanfiction and decided to read the most talked about ones first, only to see a lot of them were by orphaned accounts (so not just a one-off occurrence!). House of Cards by sugamins was the one that got me thinking, I thought “why would somebody not want to be associated with this amazing writing?!” That’s when I began to do some research and stumbled across your interview with the author!

How do you think backlash for a work harms an authors mental health? 

An immense amount of feedback, positive or negative, can take a toll on one person. A lot of authors can be reserved people and they write because they are passionate, as an outlet or just a hobby. So when their work does receive backlash it can be very upsetting- it could make them doubt their reasons and capabilities and affect an author so much they might stop writing all together.

How do you think some authors manage their mental health and not delete a work? 

This is a hard question because everyone deals with backlash differently. I know some authors who are not bothered by backlash and they choose to ignore it and move on with their day, and then there are other authors who are more anxious and have to put a lot of measures in place to protect their mental health; from your interview with sugamins they explain how they didn’t want to destroy their work, just distance themselves from it, so that’s always an option.

Taking time away from social media and getting enough rest, it is important to not neglect your well-being. Finding a way to cope when you feel low; animals tend to ground me and improve my mental health- they are loving and don’t judge you for who you are. Maybe you cope by talking with friends, or listening to your favourite song. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it helps. 

At what point with mental health do you think authors start to consider deletion/orphaning?

I think an author starts to consider deleting/orphaning their work when it completely consumes them. It is not healthy to be fixated on something that is no longer bringing you happiness, you need to let it go. If you are an author reading this, just know you are not your feedback, it doesn’t define your existence, okay? Fanfiction should add to your life, not take away from it. 

Why do you think some readers invade an authors privacy?

Sometimes, people care more about the author than the work they have created. So when a fanfic has deeply touched a reader and helped them through so much, they want to reach out in any way and tell them so- this can be invasive if the reader is not careful about their approach.

How do you think authors manage this privacy invasion?

Stopping it before it happens; not using your real name, having a separate account for writing, don’t link social media accounts in your works etc. If privacy has already been compromised and a reader is making the author uncomfortable, then disabling comments on their works, making a new social media or changing their accounts to private would be smart. Just knowing how to keep safe online.

At what point with privacy invasion do you think authors start to consider deletion/orphaning?

When you are at risk of being doxed. I think when readers are going as far as finding authors’ personal accounts and messaging their friends- anything along those lines is scary and the reader is going from a supporter to an intrusive stranger real fast.

Why do you think anonymity is important for fanfiction writing?

When your full name is attached to everything you do, people have a very easy way to get back to you. This is why authors keep an anonymous profile, and it is important readers respect that.  Most authors don’t want their family, friends, employer etc to see that sort of stuff. It is completely okay to remain professional and keep fanfiction writing separate from personal life.

Do you think fanfiction writing should stay free? Do you think authors should be paid for their work? 

I do think fanfiction writing should stay free on the sites they originate from (AO3 for example). However, if the author wants to take their work elsewhere to earn money then I don’t see an issue in that. I am glad you mention copyright law with fanfiction in particular because the author of mixtape (the fanfiction I mentioned earlier) tried to self publish their work while keeping canon names, the author tried to justify it as a parody work and everyone was so concerned that they reported the book until it got removed. I have seen stories on Wattpad become published books to purchase, however, the names had been changed to original characters- I think this seems like a much more logical move to avoid any legal repercussions.

As a reader, how has an author’s work connected with you personally? 

I have had works connect with me on a personal level, one in particular is Somebody To Love by LOVERVMINS (orphaned). My standards are impossibly high after reading that fanfic and I don’t think I will ever come across something so beautiful again. Somebody To Love is a taekook fic that was uploaded to AO3 in 2019, the author ended up deleting all their works but thankfully left this particular story up. I was immediately captured by the incredible writing and unique plot; the story of two lovers who were never meant for each other, but destiny found its way anyway… I apologise in advance for how long this summary (with spoilers) is, but I think my thoughts are proof of how this story has connected with me so much!

(Spoilers for Somebody to Love by LOVERVMINS. Please feel free to scroll to the next bolded question to avoid spoilers.)

In this story, Taehyung is a successful lawyer while Jungkook is just a student, despite the difference in status and wealth, they are intrigued by one another from the very start. After meeting Taehyung, Jungkook is left feeling confused about himself, the internalised homophobia is strong to begin with but as the chapters progress Jungkook goes from someone who is afraid of society and what people may think, to strong and outspoken. Taehyung plays a fundamental part in this, because if Jungkook were to never meet Taehyung, he wouldn’t have realised who he really was, he wouldn’t have been brave enough to discover his sexuality and fall in love in a time where it was so unaccepting. Taehyung is bold and confident on the surface, giving little regard for anybody other than himself, but his concern for others soon changes after he meets Jungkook, he becomes a better man. He could have had his heart desires- but Taehyung was no longer selfish from those few months he spent with Jungkook, so he stayed with his wife to be a good father.

Taehyung makes Jungkook promise him he will find somebody to love (hence the title), and he does, Jungkook finds somebody to love and he is happy- Taehyung finds this out when they unexpectedly meet a few years later, this is the final time Jungkook and Taehyung see each other… but knowing Jungkook is happy, leaves Taehyung happy.

There are different kinds of love, some last forever, and some just for a chapter of your life. It is clear Jungkook was Taehyung’s forever. And I don’t think Jungkook’s love for Taehyung ever went away, he just found another kind of love like he had promised. Jungkook had to live his life; he couldn’t wait for Taehyung, to leave his marriage in the unforeseeable future, or watch him raise his kids from afar, this shows that even if society were accepting, their circumstances were too far gone- if only they met sooner, or in another life. It makes you imagine a world where they could have been together, it makes you think beyond the story even when it’s ended.

It has been a month or two since I read LOVERVMINS work, and I still feel a pang in my chest every time I think of Taehyung’s letter for Jungkook in the epilogue.

Why do you think others think they have the right to know an authors personal information?

I think in this day and age, everything about a person is on show, so people just expect that sort of information from you. Authors appreciate feedback- but they don't know the reader, their family or what they do for fun. Vice versa. You only see a small glimpse into the authors life, and the stuff you see is what they feel comfortable enough to show. That should be enough.

Do you consider writing an art form?

  I do consider writing an art form. Writing is like painting an image in the readers mind. I think it is better than visual art because when you are reading a story, not everyone is going to envision the exact same thing, it is up to the imagination. I think that is what makes it so beautiful- we all collectively love a story, yet, we somehow interpret it differently.

Why do you think Archive of Our Own is the ideal platform for fanfiction writing?

I think Archive of Our Own is ideal for fanfiction writing because they give you many options with your work so you are comfortable- it is easy to remove comments, delete an account, or orphan works while keeping your account etc. It is important authors get control of what happens to their work if they want to leave and go in a different direction.

Do you think other fanfiction writing platforms like Fanfiction.net and Wattpad are ideal or lacking?

I think Wattpad is ideal for younger audiences; it’s more visual with book covers and the layout in general is more appealing, I also feel like the stories on there are targeted for pre-teens. When I first got into fanfiction, I did start on Wattpad because it was easier to navigate. I look back now though and do think it is lacking in terms of quality, a lot of the stories are written for shock value and don’t really make much sense because of that. It is hard to find a story on Wattpad that ticks all the boxes (but not impossible). Wattpad also had a breach with data last summer and everyone’s emails got pwned so that made a lot of people move to AO3. I have never used Fanfiction.net so unfortunately I can’t speak for that one. Overall, AO3 has much more content, you can find a story with ease once you know how to use the site.

How has fanfiction writing affected the people in your personal life?

How did you find out that your sister is writing fanfiction?

My sister wrote a Harry Styles fanfic in 2014 which gathered around half a million reads on Wattpad, she got comments from people telling her how much her fanfic has impacted their lives pretty much every day. My sister and I are close and we share the same friends, I noticed when we would have sleepovers she was always on her phone and never paid attention to the movies we were watching. I think all the numbers did affect her for a moment and it wasn’t until my sister started her exams that she realised she had to put her concentration into those to pass, that’s how she came to the decision to delete the story. I asked her recently if she regrets deleting it and she told me she doesn’t at all, she now looks back and doesn’t think her writing was good back then. So I think that shows authors do know what they’re doing and what is best for them in the long run. 

My sister had a one direction fan account on Instagram that had 100k+ followers (insane!), she was always open with her interests and I found out she started writing fanfiction through that account.

What personal reasons do you think authors have for deleting/orphaning works?

The list is endless; maybe the author wrote the story in a bad time in their life and they want to delete it because it reminds them of that time, they could have left the fandom, or they simply do not like their story anymore- they grew up and know they can do so much better. It is okay for an author to grow apart from their work, it shows they are growing as a person too.

Why do you think authors get backlash from writing dark themes?

I think authors receive backlash from writing dark themes because it can be triggering for some and can bring up unpleasant memories.

What do you think are the responsibilities of an author when writing dark themes?

 A safe bet would be to tag anything relating to abuse (physical, emotional, etc), mental illness (eating disorders, self harm, suicide, etc), graphic violence and rape/sexual assault. That’s what comes to mind. And if a trigger occurs only in a certain chapter, then having an additional warning in the chapter notes would be helpful.  

What do you think are the responsibilities of a reader when reading dark themes?

If dark subjects are included in the tags, don’t read the story if it could trigger you. It is as simple as that. People decide to read the fanfic then get mad at the author for triggering them. I am not trying to insult anybody who has triggers, maybe they read a story and their specific trigger was never mentioned in the additional tags… this is what the ‘chose not to archive warnings’ box is for, with this option, it is handled in AO3’s FAQ that major tags are not necessary. In shirt, this means there may be triggering content in the fic that is not disclosed by the author. Plus, there is usually a pop up banner before you click on a story which reads ‘this work could have adult content. if you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content’. There are so many warnings, you can’t miss them. It is a case of reading at your own risk, you can’t blame the author if you do not like the result.

Do you think authors are facing too much pressure from readers about what themes they write?

I do think authors face unnecessary pressure with the themes they write; they are put on such a pedestal that when they write something that isn’t what the audience want, they receive a lot of negative criticism. Authors, no matter what themes you are writing, there is no need to worry if you are writing for yourself and putting out the content you set out to create.

Why do you think authors write dark themes?

 Dark themes are simply an exploration of difficult emotions along with unpleasant events or consequences. Authors write dark themes because it serves a narrative purpose. And authors don’t have to be ‘dark’ people or experience all of these unsettling things to write such content. 

Why do you think readers read dark themes?

Dark themes are not for everyone, I personally don’t think there are enough dark works out there. I read dark themes because it interests me more, I want to know how the characters are going to cope with the consequences, or heal from the trauma. Other readers might prefer dark themes for the graphic content, this is fine too. Fictional violence is not real- we all know this, so there is no reason to be terrified. 

Why do you think so many authors want to have their work get popular?

 People may disagree, but I think it has a lot to do with validation. Subconsciously, authors want people to like their work- a rise in popularity means readers are seeing the authors work, and hopefully taking enjoyment from it. This isn’t a bad thing as long as you realise validation does not equal self-worth. There are people out there who write and do not gain much attention, but that doesn’t stop them from posting their work anyway.

Do you think a work’s popularity is important?

I personally don’t. I read a range of fanfictions- some are super popular, others are not. It is the content I am more interested in, not how many hits/views it has.  

Should we judge authors for deleting/orphaning their work?

Not at all! I am sure authors have thought long and hard before coming to their decision.

How should we view situations where authors delete/orphan their work? 

For a reader, it can be upsetting when authors delete/orphan their work, especially if there is no possibility of reading that story again. However, we need to show compassion and view the situation from the authors perspective; gaining popularity on a fanfic isn't as pleasant as it might seem, it is much more complicated than that. A lot of feedback, both good and bad, can be overwhelming. Mental health is important, and if that means distancing yourself from something so popular, then it must be done. Privacy can be compromised, people in your real life might find out you write these stories and not be accepting, or readers become invasive which is a scary situation to be in. And a mixture of personal reasons, people are allowed to grow and change and want to distance themselves from things they are no longer proud of. 

What do you think authors should be aware of in case their work does get popular?

This is a good question… I think authors need to be aware that with good feedback, also comes bad feedback. You cannot please every single person on this earth, but that is not your job- so do not take it personally. 

Do you have any last messages to readers of this interview?

 I want to thank you in particular, Charm. This interview is probably the coolest thing I’ll ever get to do for the BTS fandom and I’m so grateful that our paths crossed so we could create this interview together. You are such a kind soul and it has been a pleasure from start to finish. 

For the authors reading this interview; I am just a reader, but I do understand how it can be hard for you to continue on when you are going through so many struggles readers don’t get to see. Just know you are appreciated, and you are supported no matter what you decide to do with your works in the future. Having popular works shouldn’t feel like a burden, there are blessings hidden in there- you have made readers feel a rollercoaster of emotions with your talent, you are able to engage with readers around the world, and you have created a beautiful story from nothing… you did that! 

For the silent readers like myself: let the authors of your favourite work know how much you loved it (in a respectful way) before it is too late! I so wish I had the chance to tell the author of Somebody To Love how their story broke my heart then healed it again. Treasure the fanfictions you love because they very well could be gone tomorrow!

Thank you for reading this interview. Further below are reminders and information about this interview and Charmedseoul’s Fanlore projects.

Reba has chosen to remain anonymous. No social media or information about her will be released publicly.

This interview was conducted through email from January 31, 2021 to February 1, 2021 with Reba’s consent and protections under Fanlore’s Identity Protection policies and the posting website’s privacy policies. Unauthorized reposting of this interview is forbidden. 

Due to the casual nature of this interview, repost of this interview is strictly prohibited. Linking and sharing is appreciated. Translation and unauthorized repost of this interview is forbidden.

Thank you for reading. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask and I will do my best to answer them.

[letteredlettered]

Do you have any tips for coping with people making problematic comments on things you have written? I'm currently writing a fic that explores communication problems & societal gender narratives. In this context, the main (cis/het) couple have a nasty fight & there is clear fault on both sides. I've had several people attack the female character in the comment section, saying that she is a complete bitch/piece of shit & her husband should leave her - I'm finding it quite upsetting.

First of all, I’m so sorry this is happening to you. It’s painful to receive comments that aren’t thoughtful about your work or you and that are hateful toward a character that you love and in some way is a part of you.

I do think sometimes people don’t mean to be hateful with comments like this. They’re trying to show that they’re invested. Also, sometimes people read fanfic to reinforce feelings they already have about canon, and they’re not really interested in fics that deviate. Sometimes people don’t even seem to notice that it deviates, which took me a long time to understand. Apparently, so many people are used to reading fics in which Draco Malfoy is a pure flower and Harry Potter is a jerk that they assume that’s the fic I’m writing, when as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I was pretty sure we were all starting on the premise that Draco Malfoy was a bigoted bully who was a party to genocide and Harry Potter is a brave and generous savior.

Knowing that people aren’t really understanding my story or considering what it’s actually trying to say--that they’re just kind of repeating the shipper or fanon or headcanon feelings they want all fics to have--isn’t actually comforting. After all, they’re not thinking about my story. But at the same time, it is somewhat comforting to me to realize that my story probably doesn’t suggest that Draco Malfoy is a pure flower, that they’re bringing that from somewhere else, and that even though they’ve decided to ignore nuance in my story, that doesn’t change what my story is.

So, honestly, my response to these kind of comments is usually to just ignore them. But there are other options:

1) Delete. There is absolutely nothing wrong with deleting a comment.

2) Reply. I got a comment not too long ago that to me was the complete opposite of what I was trying to write about. I have to say it horrified me. My reply went something like, “I’m so glad you’re enjoying this story, and thanks for your comment. I must say I’m very sorry this is the impression you received, as I was trying to convey the exact opposite. As someone who deeply cares about [X], its makes me sad that you believe this story [bashes X]. However, I also deeply believe that readers should feel free to have their own interpretations, and in that sense, what you get from the story is just as valid as what I intended. Thank you again for reading.” The commenter clarified that they didn’t exactly hate X and had meant something a little different, which was a little comforting (as I gotta say, the initial comment was SHOCKING to me), though I’m honestly still disturbed about it.

My reply was very polite (I hope), but it’s also okay to just tell someone how you feel--that you’re frustrated/hurt/upset by their comment. It really depends on whether saying that will make you feel better, and whether you’re willing to deal with that person getting angry or there being a confrontation in your comments. Confrontations are okay. Expressing yourself is good. But if it makes you anxious or upset, it’s also okay to avoid it in this instance. The stakes for honesty are low here--the only thing to be gained by it is making yourself feel better, so if just unloading frustration or rage would make you feel better, eh--go ahead. If it won’t, don’t. (If it’s someone you know and must deal with repeatedly, the stakes for honesty are much higher.)

3) Ignore, but formulate a reply. Sometimes the point of expressing all your feelings isn’t for the sake of honesty--it isn’t so the other person now knows The Truth. Sometimes expressing yourself is important so you can understand how you feel, face it, let yourself feel it, and move through those emotions. Sometimes I find it comforting to just let all my feelings out in a reply without posting the reply. When I express my anger and frustration in a reply, I often feel better by the time I finish the reply. I feel no need to release that anger and frustration onto someone else, because I’ve already released it within myself. Then I just erase my reply and basically forget about the comment.

4) Ignore, but talk to trusted friends. Sometimes a comment is so frustrating or upsetting that I feel kind of at a loss. By sharing the comment with people I know and trust, I can a) once again, express my feelings and allow myself to deal with them, b) receive the comfort and reassurance of my friends, who are going to say nice things about me and my story regardless, c) avoid confrontation and upset with a stranger whose opinion I don’t particularly care about either way.

What I would advise against when it comes to this is mentioning the comment to people you don’t know/trust, which includes semi-public spaces like tumblr/twitter/discord/instagram/etc. This, to me, is the absolute wrong thing to do and can be very ugly and unkind. Sure, you get to express yourself and receive the support of your friends, but there’s always the possibility that people will go troll that commenter or make life difficult for them.

The exception, I would say, is if the offensive comment is offensive in a way that deserves public attention. I personally believe that it can be fine to call public attention to things like racist and misogynist slurs or comments inciting violence towards real people etc. In those cases, I believe that social condemnation can actually be useful, though personally I still believe some care should be taken in how one approaches such a situation.

Anyway, this was a long response, but I’m sorry again you’re dealing with this, and good luck on your story! It sounds like a good fic.

[supremecourt23]

Don’t Glorify My Mental Illness

In my personal opinion, one of the best Netflix original shows is the dark comedy BoJack Horseman. I could list several reasons why I believe this show to be superior to others: It’s diverse characters and how they’ve developed over six seasons, the creativity of the anthropomorphic world the show’s creators have built, or the way the show uses its humor to its advantage to craft an even more compelling story. Those are all really good things. The thing that had me hooked by the end of season 1 though was how it portrayed mental health.

Mental health is a huge subject matter in BoJack, even when not directly referenced. The way severe depression, anxiety, and how the characters cope with these realities really struck me. The show tackles addiction, abuse, unhealthy relationships, and tries its best to address topical issues all while keeping the characters as real as they can for a show featuring talking animals. I don’t want to spoil the show for those who haven’t seen it so I will keep things vague. I’m not recommending this show. It’s a hard watch, but the show does something that very few people in Hollywood and social media, are doing. This being that it doesn’t glorify mental illness.

The “tortured artist” character is a popular trend in film, tv, and literature and even stems into real life. Bipolar Disorder is often associated with highs that often bring about great creativity and it’s even theorized there are higher levels of intelligence. Beethoven was one historical figure believed to have this diagnosis and some associate his work with his disorder. Van Gogh, a man believed to be deeply depressed, is said to have channeled these feelings into his artwork. We can look at more modern names such as Kurt Cobain and Robin Williams. I do not want to diminish who these people were or what they went through. I want to propose a challenge, and BoJack Horseman is the perfect catalyst to do so.

For those unfamiliar with the show, the premise is that back in the nineties BoJack was in a very famous tv show. The sitcom ran for several seasons, but following its end, he’s been mostly unsuccessful. BoJack is depressed, an alcoholic, and not a great horse. He uses his friends and those around him to achieve his goals. The framing device for the first season is that an author is assigned to BoJack to write a memoir about him. It’s through this process that we begin to peel back the layers of BoJack Horseman and find out who he truly is, despite his hardened exterior.

BoJack is an individual that is hurting badly. As the show progresses we learn about where his sadness stems from, his alcoholism began, and his negative patterns formed. He takes these pains and it affects his life sometimes positively and other times, very negatively. He’s tortured by what is in his head. Some of it, he admits is his fault, circumstances he has control over. As he claims responsibility for the hurt he’s caused, he also has to come to terms with what has happened in his past, both the rational and irrational. The BoJack we see at the beginning of season 1 and the BoJack we see at the end of season 5 part 1 are very different. The writers never showed him as an actor channeling his depression, addiction, and alcoholism into his roles for greatness. In fact, they showed the opposite. The unfortunate reality that plague many.

As someone with mental health issues, I was drawn to BoJack. Not because I wanted to be like him or even because I related to him. I was drawn to him because I wanted to see him get better, just like I wanted to get better. If BoJack had been making his depression into something great and he was continuously reaping positive benefits out of it, he wouldn’t be the same character. Why would the audience want to watch him change? I look at my past and I see where I’ve hurt myself, I’ve hurt friends, family, and others around me, and I would use the excuse that I wasn’t well so it was okay. That’s not okay. BoJack realized the same thing, prompting his character to develop further. The tortured artist trope is a reality for some, but it should not be the goal.

I used to be fairly open with my mental health in an attempt to help decrease stigma. I would talk about my struggles, my victories, and what had been happening in my life. Now I keep a lot of that to myself and my close circles. I don’t do this because I’m afraid the stigma will be turned towards me or because I fear what else could come. Instead, I just asked myself what I was really accomplishing. People would comment really encouraging things. No one ever said anything negative to me. But, I would read things that would go on to trouble me. People that would tell me that my mental illness was a beautiful thing because it made me, me.

I’m sure this sounds like a really nice sentiment. I don’t want to crap on social media sites like Tumblr, Twitter, or Reddit where entire sections are dedicated to the “Sad Girls Club” or a t-shirt that says

“Stressed, Depressed, but Well Dressed” on it, but is this really how we want to combat mental illness stigma? Let me tell you right now, and I think a lot of people in or near my shoes will agree with me, I don’t like having a mental health problem. Whether a person is depressed, bipolar, anxious, schizophrenic, or whatever their case may be, telling them it’s beautiful, that it makes them who they are, or they should just accept themselves for who they are, is not a good thing. Telling a mentally ill persons their illness beautiful doesn’t remove stigma, it reinforces it. It reinforces it to the individual and the people around them. If what I do or what I am is beautiful, why would I change it?

BoJack repeatedly sees that something is wrong in his life. He takes responsibility for the things in his control and learns to cope with what he can’t. The “Sad Girls Club” movement on Tumblr just groups people who are depressed together and then celebrates it. Shows like “13 Reasons Why”that claim to educate about tough subjects, glamorize things like suicide and cutting with long drawn out sequences that make most viewers uncomfortable and not in a good way. There is a difference between raising awareness and creating “relatability.”

BoJack Horseman doesn’t just raise awareness, it goes a step further and says you can change. I believe this is fully true for every person who is struggling with their mental health, addiction, an eating disorder, whatever it is. The first step is to acknowledge that problem. Identify what you can control and what you can’t and then how you can cope with those things. Just because there isn’t a cure to what I’m facing or what you’re facing doesn’t mean there isn’t hope. There is always hope.

To the person reading this who doesn’t have a mental illness, I want to say three things. The first thing I’ve already said, but I want to say it again: There is a difference between raising awareness and relatability. I understand you are trying to encourage me with your story about how “sometimes I get anxious too” and you’re intentions are good, but the best way we are going to beat stigma isn’t through relatability, it’s through listening and acknowledging and offering to be an ally in their recovery process. Secondly, don’t reinforce negative stereotypes or behaviors. I’m not offering you the chance to control people, but in a world that pushes for a certain body weight, uses bipolar as a word to demean someone, and tries to push that it’s beautiful to be this way, speak up. Just do it in a polite, edifying way. And finally, thank you for being an ally. The support of those around me has meant the world. I’ve hurt a lot of them and they’ve stood by me over the years. I’ve hurt a lot of people in my past, but a lot of them have forgiven me and rallied around me in my road to fighting the pain that is inside of me.

I don’t know how BoJack Horseman ends. The final few episodes come out at the end of January and while I’d like to believe it ends with a horse and his friends who finally find the happiness they so badly crave. That may not be how it ends. In a world that glamorizes the tortured genius, be the person that advocates for change, for healing, and for growth. I’ll leave you with one of the many amazing quotes from the show:

“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m happy for the first time in my life and I’m not gonna feel bad about it. It takes a long time to realize how truly miserable you are and even longer to see it doesn’t have to be that way. Only after you give up everything can you begin to find a way to be happy.”

-Fuzzy Whiskers

[spacegaywritings]

The Wonders of Sleep - You are a Nightmare (4/5)

Summary: Remus is in another chaotic frenzy and refuses to calm down, so Virgil has to step in and convince the Dark Creativity that sleep can be fun too. At least Thomas well get to rest with this.

Tags: Remus things! Talks about murder, death, violence, inflicting pain etc on others/self (your basic favourites in intrusive thoughts), weapons, brutality, Remus, virgil, dukexiety, the duke of nonsense and bullshit, caps, angery remus, moth man/ rat man mentions, sexual innuendo, food, (eating) worms, plants, weird living conditions, disgusting room description, absolute chaos, caring about thomas, mutual care, fluff, domestic fluff, swearwords, lotsa cursing, dismissive nicknames, self harm (mention)

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Story under the cut: (<2k)

A gargantuan mace hit the ground, sending splitting stones and other pieces of damaged ground flying through the heart of the imagination.

 “KILL HIM, I SAY!”

 Dark Creativity screeched into the air. He ripped the mace out of the ground with great effort and immediately struck the ground with a loud war scream.

His deafening screams and yells filled the vast emptiness of the mindscape. Other than that, the slightly more silent noise of Remus consistently breaking and devastating the rocks and mountains of the desert he was in.

 “Thomas just needs to get a simple baseball bat and SMASH HIS SKULL IN!”

 Remus repeated his motion of shattering the bleeding ground as he hurled his mace out and behind his back for the maximum amount of swinging power science would give him.

 “No more PAY! No more BILLS!”

 He worked the mace down into the ground, his whole body following the movement. His upper body went down with the large weapon and stopped just shy of the unsteady ground, splitting it.

A growl could be heard. It erupted from the depths of the ground could as the dark floor slowly drove itself away from one another in two halves.

 The Duke’s rage had halved the currently imagined world.

He freed his mace and brought it back to his chest. One of his hands brushed over the end of it, the one without stabby spikes! Still a pretty side, to Remus.

A little light bubble, dark pink, grew at said end with a bit of distance to the stick-part itself.

 Remus shook the mace, letting the spikes give way to nothing but a long, black stick. Once the hurty spikes were gone, he YEETED the consistently expanding bubble in front of him and repeated.

 “KILL HIM!”

 The bubble manifested itself in the air, sticking to the invisible laws of the Duke’s whimsy. Slowly, a picture started to fade onto the dark background. Thomas could be seen, holding a bat. It was just as Remus had predicted.

The scene became crystal clear and with a simple snip of his fingers, Thomas moved as if trapped in the gifset of a violent mind. He bashed into his head, again, again, again and again as Remus chanted in moral support.

 “GO! YES! GO! AGAIN! MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE-”

 “Remus.”

 The Imagination shifted at once, the bubbling magma morphing into a small river while the dark ground, the stones and rocks and destruction turned into a field of grass.

While the air remained heavy, the bubble popped and Remus’ stick became nothing but an elegant twig.

 “Why are you up so late?”

 Creativity growled in response and shook his body like a wet dog. His flouncy outfit floated as if in timelapse.

 “Why are you up so late? Stop asking me silly questions. I am creating.”

 Virgil hopped over the small river and turned to look directly at the raging side.

 “You look as if you are pouting”, he stated calmly, much like Logan would, “what got ya stinki mood up, poopy boy?”

 Remus glared back at the smaller side and cleared his throat. He bowed to pick up his twig.

 “My mace.”

 That was definitely a pout. Remus’ lips were pursed into a pout, even his words seemed to pout despite his sentence being so short of them.

The mustache seemed to stretch his face into a long, sad face. Maybe he was actually manipulating his appearance, maybe the facial hair really put an extra emphasis after all.

 “You are the Duke of Creativity. If you want it back, you do that. Now, how about we give this financial discussion a break and fucking chill for a minute.”

 Remus threw the twig away and shook his head, arms crossed in front of his chest.

 “Yeah, you would like that. How about Thomathy here gets it on with a hot dude and I will shut up?”

 Virgil rolled his eyes.

 “We could eat that cockroach Thomathy squished this morning! I will get it from the trash!”

 The Duke started running for time before the other could even react. Anxiety kicked in, shifting the imagination in a way, they found themselves in Remus’ messy bedroom.

A huge vine came out of the closet and ended mid-room before the bed.. or whatever one wanted to call the mess of clothing. There was a glowing blue trail of splatter on the floor. Weapons and.. hair??? were cluttered all over the floor.

Virgil could hear a distant slapping of meat.

The floorboards seemed rather loose and rattled.

 “My room! ROOM ROOM ROOM!”

 Remus drew Virgil close.

 “Emo! Look at my plant! It is really cute! It will love you!”

 Virgil clung to the ever-changing mess of ideas and shook his head.

 “I want to sleep, Remus. Shut up and go to sleep with me. You can wreck havoc and reek tomorrow but Thomas needs to sleep or else he will be shit in the morning.”

 The man in question bounced.

 “If I make Thomathy beat up himself, he will look like shit for sure!!!”

 The emo rolled his eyes and nudged Remus towards the bed. He had not even expected the room to look as bad. Maybe he should have taken this to the living-room or literally any space that had a comfortable ground to lay on. He was a metaphysical being who could not really perceive pain after all - the choice to sleep was really just allowing Thomas to deal with things more calmly, at least in the case of Anxiety. Also, only given that Virgil did not deliberately clock out in order to spare Thomas any effect from his side.

 “Nah, that is work. Work sucks. We wanna sleep forever and eat weird shit, right?”

 Remus grumbled.

At heart, he sort of agreed. Right now, he was driven to do things, to be active and creative or destroy and simply do as much as he could because he had that energy.

 “Nap time, Dukey.”

 Virgil tugged him towards the bed.

 “Oh, Virgil ~ I did not know you were into this kind of thing ~”

 The addressed side blushed but shook his head.

 “In your dreams, fucker.”

 He stepped closer to the unmoving wall of Creativity. Confidently, he let their chests collide, sending Remus backwards.

The wavering Duke gasped in surprise and squeaked insolently.

 “EmO!”, he screeches with a voice that got scratchier and scratchier by the minute. His arms flailed into any direction until he drew them in front of his chest to cross them.

“How can you be cunning and cunt-y?”

 Virgil could hear his brain yell a conditioned “language!” response at him. He literally heard Patton scold Remus in his brain. Judging from the sour look on the other’s face, the anxious trait assumed he could hear it too.

 “Now you know how tiring it can be to hear something in you, that you can’t stop? Pretty fucking shitty, huh? Move, babysitting you is tiring.”

 The reveal of a long, pink tongue was the response but Remus kicked off his boots and patted his clothings until they dissolved into some sort of magical glitter dust. It silently trickled down onto the floor and was blown into all directions of the room.

This place really had a mind of its own. Not that Virgil really minded this.

 “Good Remus”, Virgil praised softly as he joined the other on the bed. They laid down together and Virgil kicked a bundle of weapons and books off the bed, “oops. My bad. I thought it was your pet raccoon.”

 Remus giggled.

 “No! That is you!”

 Virgil shook his head, grinning into his oversized mess of a self-ruined jacket. The Duke looked at him in his own naked glory and patted the space next to him. To join him on the fun, he eyed the stack of his dirty single socks collection and gave it a strong kick.

 “PARTY!”

 “Nooo, nap time. We wanted to be nice to Thomas and fuck shit up tomorrow.”

 Creativity blinked at Virgil. A rare occasion. The blinking and directly looking at someone. He usually just stared into something nobody but him could see. It was chilling and so deeply terrifying, Thomas would feel it in his bones when anyone but Logan or the (former) Others interacted with him.

 “You will join me?”

 Virgil threw his head back as he slowly snuggled up to Remus, filling the spot he had previously patted. A groan escaped his lips and he let his head roll against Remus’ shoulder.

 Instead of answering, he clapped his hands together, summoning a little bowl he thrusted into Remus’ hands.

The bowl was full of little gummy worms which looked surprisingly disgusting with how slimy and wet they appeared to be. They had a certain shine to them and the colour was so unnaturally neon orange, they were glowing in the dim lighting of the Duke’s room.

 “Have a cursed snack and get your creative energy into a fucked up sex dream instead of making Thomas uncomfortable. He’s got some shit to do tomorrow.”

 Silence took over the room.

Virgil caused some rustling sounds as he curled up next to Remus. The room was surprisingly un-stinky compared to what he had expected.

Loud chewing sounds interrupted the momentary silence.

 It was good while it lasted but Virgil was willing to trade his own discomfort for the sake of Thomas’ well-being. He needed his sleep with another tough schedule coming up.

 “Virgil?”

 He hummed in response.

 “Are you anxious because of the new projects they planned?”

 The former dark side curled further into himself, shaking his head stubbornly.

Chewing sounds continued for a bit until Remus took a small break and suddenly snapped his head back and emptied the whole bowl into his mouth. Without even moving his jaw to chew, he swallowed his big ball of cursed sweets and made a lewd lip-smacking sound.

 Virgil opened his mouth to comment on how disgusting the other was but he interrupted him.

 “Come cuddle. It is okay to be scared. I will eat your mean anxiety.”

 He shook his head. The Duke turned to pull Virgil into a hug. The anxious side chuckled.

 “This is not how I work.”

 “Yeah, but it is how I work.”

 “Whatever, Remus. Shut up if you wanna cuddle, you rat man.”

 It was Remus’ turn to chuckle.

 “You just wish I was moth man!”

 Virgil shook his head, smirking into Remus’ neck. He finally allowed himself to close his eyes and hold onto the other.

 It was silent.

For real.

Within minutes, Remus was asleep and Virgil was ever so silently snoring, nobody could hear it.

[amberandmetal]

Good bye, loves

Hi, its been a while. So what has happened is that I have taken a step away from fandom. I don't know if I will come back or not. See the thing is that Infinity war broke me. I cried in a shaking ball in my seat and refused to watch it again until Endgame would come and make it all better. Ehum. Yeah... So, when watching Endgame I actually hardly shed a tear because something just died in me. I didn't cry when Nat died, I didn't cry when Tony died. I didn't feel any of it, because they took my two favourite characters away. Not the ones that I loved deeply and secretly(okay not so secretly.. blatantly might be a better word) wanted to marry in a fantasy wedding and live happily ever after with (Bucky and Steve for instance), but the ones I identified with, the ones that I could read fanfics about and feel so deeply about, the ones I could really relate to. In a way reading Tony fix it fics was like therapy for me and a balm on my traumas. They took that away. Once being characters that I thought of and felt warmth and strength now I just feel sad, anxious and overwhelmed. Marvel wasn't my only fandom but def my main and biggest one. The Russos destroyed that for me. I have tried reading fanfics or scrolling through Tumblr post-Endgame but it just fills me with a sense of sadness and heartbreak. So this is my good bye. I may come back sometime in the future, but rn it doesn't seem likely. So thank you to the few friends I have made here, thank you to the wonderful writers and the amazing readers who commented and reblogged my stuff. It feels horrible to go but fandom used to be a safe haven for me and now just fills me with sadness and anxiety. Hope you understand. All the love/K

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 34) COMPLETE

This is it. 

Tis the end.

If you’re wondering why I’ve not linked all previous chapters, I made a post about it before. But Tumblr won't show my posts in the tags if they have links in them. Even links to other Tumblr posts which is fucking stupid. Like seriously Tumblr, sort that the fuck out.

Thank you for coming with me on this wild ass journey. The journey of writing a drabble, thinking it wasn't gonna be anything, to having 34 chapters written and falling in love. This story means the world to me. Just like Softer Sin, I wrote this solidly, none stop with no other stories. It's rare this happens to me. Its the sign of a story that inspires me so deeply that I fall in love with it.

Emotional isn't even the word right now loooool

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

“Make sure you drink it all and then rest up. Daryl will kill me if he comes back and you’re worse,” Amy snorted, tucking Charlene into the sleeping bag. Charlene was still sick and Amy was making it her personal mission to be her nurse and help her. It seemed to be some kind of chest infection. Charlene had a rattly cough and a bad fever. A couple of days had passed by now and in the time Charlene had joined the group, she had become close to Amy, the pair had become friends.

Half of the group had gone to Atlanta on a run, Merle and Andrea being among them. So Charlene and Amy were both anxious and Amy was more than happy to help her and distract them both. It also didn't help that Daryl was off hunting. She had begged him to take her with him, fucking pleaded but he had refused because she was sick. So now she was here worried about Merle and Daryl and hoping they would be okay and she was fucking sick. She knew they could both look after themselves, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming their way. She tried to ignore it as she focused on Amy.

In the hours that passed, she lay in the tent miserable. Amy coming in and out checking on her every now and again. She wished she felt well enough to be with the others. She wanted to help around camp. She wanted to prep the meat to get better at it. Daryl had been teaching her how to prep the meat and she could finally do it without gagging. She was surprised by how easy it was to prep and skin a rabbit. She was trying her hardest to hone her skills. She had been on her own for a while at one point and she knew it could easily happen again within a blink of an eye. She didn't want to leave herself up the creek without a paddle. So she was trying to learn as much as she could.

She was hoping Daryl would have taught her about tracks today. She didn’t get why he didn't let her come. Usually, he wanted her by his side at all times but he had been adamant she was safer here and she needed to rest. She didn't agree. The only place she was safe was by his side. She hated being away from him like this. Sure she had a cough, and sure her fever was steadily getting worse. But she would much rather be sick and by his side than here without him. She drifted off into sleep and Amy was getting a little worried as she checked on her overnight. She had been sleeping for a while and her fever was getting pretty bad. She kept rubbing her head with a cool washcloth to help her a little as she had a fitful sleep. She decided to let her rest, not waking her whenever she checked on her.

Daryl stalked through the woods. He had been chasing this damn deer for fucking ever now. He had shot it a few times but his aim was fucking off. He knew it was a combination of things. Despite the days that had gone by, his head was still spinning from the revelation that he was in love with the pretty green-eyed girl. He should have seen it coming, he knew that. I mean who else goes to a fucking store for no other reason than to see someone smile? A lovesick fool. That's the only person. And that person was him.

It wasn't just that though that was making his head messy. Merle was on the run to Atlanta and Daryl didn't like it. He didn’t like being separated from his brother but Merle was insistent he went. But Daryl fucking knew he had been using coke before he left. His brother was all hopped up, powder around his nose. He was disappointed. He remembered those words Charlene once uttered to him. How at some point, the hard shit would be all Merle had left. Even though his drug use had cut down, it seemed that his stash had eventually started dwindling and now he was left with the shit that made him the biggest asshole ever. He knew it hadn't helped with how hard Merle had hit the drugs again when they thought Charlene was dead. His brother had jumped right back into the deep end, resulting in the weaning process starting all over and now all he had was the hard shit.

It made Daryl's stomach sink pitifully. He had been enjoying his brother's company. He had enjoyed how they finally got along and Merle was finally acting like the big brother he had always needed. And he knew without a doubt that if his brother kept using the hard stuff, shit was going to get out of hand again. All that hard work would have been for nothing. He wasn't sure if Charlene knew or not that Merle was using that shit again. He felt like if she did she would have said something. He didn't have the heart to tell her, to let her know his brother was at it again. He wondered if Merle could go cold turkey now. His drug use was a lot less than it was so it wouldn't affect him as badly as it would have done before. Maybe they needed to toss his stash. A fucking intervention before things got bad. He could try and cope with his withdrawals now. They were in a group, he could keep the girl away from him. And he hoped they wouldn't be as bad now he wasn't using as much as he had been. He needed a word with him when he got back from the run.

Just before Daryl had left, he had spoken to Merle about his plan to rob the group. Merle had told him he had put it on hold since Charlene came back, and Daryl didn't need to ask why. She would never be up for the plan, and she would be mad as all hell if she even found out about it. He knew deep down it wasn't going to happen. There wasn't a way in hell he would be able to do it and drag her away from the group. She would refuse, or worse, she would go with them and then hate him. She always harped on that he was a good man, and he knew if he did that he would prove her wrong. And despite the deep need to leave these assholes and take what they had to keep them all safe, the thought of her being disappointed in him made him feel sick to his stomach. Merle had said he would try and think of something. Something that meant she had no choice to go along with it. But Daryl felt like he just needed to accept it wasn't going to happen. They were stuck in this group now, sharing their fucking supplies.

His thoughts drifted back to his girl. He could just see her in his mind right now. Sat there worrying like she always did, no doubt hacking up a lung if he went by the state of her when he left. He hated that she had to stay behind but it was better that way. Now he knew he loved her, he had accepted it. He needed to keep her safe. In the past, he would have gladly brought her with him because it had just been the three of them. Her safest place was with him. But now, the group was safer. She would be there with people and weapons, vehicles if they needed to get away. Not out on the woods with just him.

It killed him being away from her but it was for the best. He would rather she be safe there without him than in danger with him there. Her sad face was haunting him though. She had literally begged him to let her come and he almost gave in. But then she had a coughing fit and he pictured her decaying face. The one that plagued his mind every night after he thought she had died. It was enough to make him snap out of it and give her a firm no. He was concerned that she was sick. It was just some kind of chest infection but without the right medical care, who knew what it could turn into or how bad it could get. He hated that he couldn't help her. So he figured trying to catch some decent game for once might help. Get some good food in her belly and get her strength up.

He had given Amy strict instruction to keep an eye on her and make sure she was fine. The bitch had the audacity to ask him what to do if the worst happened and it felt like someone had thrown ice cold water all over him. This girl was Charlene's friend, she had no right saying that shit to anyone, least of all him. He had swiftly told her that if the worst happened, he would set the fucking place ablaze and make them all wish they were dead. She had nodded, wide eyes blinking up at him, knowing he meant every fucking word.

He heaved a sigh as he followed the deer through the trees. It was getting weak, he knew that. Hopefully, it would just fucking keel over soon so he could take it back to camp. He was getting tired now. He had been out here for days and he was hungry. He had drank the last of his water over an hour ago. His steps were slower than usual as he followed the tracks of the deer. He couldn't see it anymore but he didn't need to. He could follow the tracks and eventually it would lead him to the dead body when it finally gave out. He just wanted to get back to Charlene. Not being able to see her was making his chest feel tight. Anything could happen when he wasn't there. She was safer there than out here with him, but it didn't mean she was safe completely. Nowhere was safe anymore. He dreaded to think of him going back and the group was gone or overrun. Or the sickness had developed into something more.

His mind was running rife with his anxiety about her and Merle, picturing all the bad shit that could happen to either of them. He hadn't enjoyed the solitude of being alone out here. It had been hollow silence without Merle to fill it with his usual bullshit or Charlene’s smile to make him happy. This is what it would be like if he was left with no one. The thought made him feel sick and he felt the bile rise into his throat. Angry it even crossed his mind at all.

He started getting agitated. Angry at Merle using again, annoyed that the girl would be upset when she found out. Fucking angry that in order to keep her safe she couldn't be by his side. Pissed off she had to get sick when they didn't exactly have a fucking doctor or the right meds to help her. He always did this. He always focused on the negative shit in his life until suddenly everything seemed pretty dark and bleak. And now this fucking deer he was after was quite a bit in front of him and he felt like he’d be walking for fucking ever. Just die already, Jesus.

He pushed through, just wanting to hurry the fuck up and get back to his girl. The anxiety was seeping through every pore of his body and he felt ready to rip his damn skin off. When he came out from the trees, he was met with the barrel of Shane's shotgun as some of the group surrounded the deer. Of course a biter had to have got to it before him. Why the fuck was he even surprised that his luck had seemingly run out? Now he had failed the girl yet again and his anger started to flare up.

“Son of a bitch. That's my deer,” he huffed as he pushed past the brush and came out the where the deer was. There was nothing worse than having your kill fucking tainted by these undead pricks. He waltzed over to the deer, glowering as his nostrils flared in anger.

“Ah look at it. All gnawed on by this filthy, disease bearin’, motherless, poxy bastard,” he growled, enunciating each of his valid points with a kick to the biter lay on the floor, its head no longer attached to its body.

“Calm down son, that's not helping,” Dale said warily. Daryl couldn't help it. All his anxiety and his anger was just radiating out of him and this asshole was trying to tell him to calm down?

“What do you know about it old man? Why don’t ya go take that stupid hat and go back to ‘On Golden Pond’?” he sneered as he stepped towards him.

Daryl heaved a sigh as he walked back to the deer, pulling his bolts from it. He was angry at himself if he was honest. If his aim wasn't off because his head was too loud, he might have fucking got the deer sooner.

“I’ve been trackin’ this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of food, water and sleep that was making him desperate, or the thought of failing his girl yet again.

“What d’ya think? Think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?” he asked, even though he knew the answer deep down.

“I would not risk that,” Shane stated, giving him a dirty look that made Daryl's eye twitch in annoyance. Asshole stood there like the big I am. He sighed again as he stood up properly, looking down at his kill. The kill they wouldn't get to eat. The kill that made him stay away from his sick girl for no fucking reason.

“That's a damn shame,” he muttered, almost to himself.

He turned back to the group then, his eyes scanning them briefly. He saw Andrea, Glenn and some new fucking idiot so he presumed the Atlanta group was back, so Merle must be around.

“I got some squirrel, about a dozen or so. That’ll have to do,” he said as he tugged at the rope with the squirrels on. The biter’s head on the floor started to chomp its teeth as the group looked down at it horrified.

“Oh god,” Amy muttered, looking ready to throw up as Andrea ushered her away. Daryl inwardly shook his head. Of course he would be stuck which a bunch of stupid assholes at the end of the world. How the fuck they had survived at all was beyond him.

“Come on people? What the hell?” he asked, raising his bow and aiming it, shooting a bolt right through the dead things eye. He stepped closer, putting his foot on its head and he yanked his bolt back out.

“Gotta be the brain, don’t y’all know nothin’?” he asked, giving them all a look as he walked off. He caught up to Amy before they got back to camp and she glanced at him.

“Wheres Charlene?” he asked gruffly.

“The tent sleeping. She's slept near enough the whole time. Her fever got really bad last night but it seemed a little better when I checked on her before,” she said softly. Daryl grunted with a nod. He was worried she was sleeping so much but he was glad her fever was letting up. Amy looked weird though. She wouldn't look him in the eye and he squinted suspiciously as he watched her walk away. He shook his head as he walked to camp, glancing around.

“Merle! Merle! Get yer ass out here. Got us some squirrel, lets stew ‘em up!” he called out as he set his crossbow down.

“Daryl, just slow up a bit. I need to talk to you,” Shane said, eyeing him carefully. Daryl narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to talk to this prick and he had no idea just what the fucker would want with him.

Charlene suddenly appeared then and he frowned as she walked over, Shane forgotten. She looked paler than usual, a little sheen of sweat on her forehead with her long brown hair pulled into a high ponytail. She coughed into her hand, her lungs burning as she made her way over to see what the noise was about. She couldn't believe she had slept for so long. Her lungs were still sore and her throat felt raw, but she didn't feel as hot and she felt a little better. She was glad to see Daryl, her body flooded with relief as she walked over to him.

He frowned down at her, putting his hand on her head, checking her temperature as he looked at her concerned. She wasn’t as hot as when he left her but she still looked rough. She leant into his touch, his hands cooling and soothing her. His face scanned hers, trying to make sure she was okay and she gave him a little smile. He couldn't help but return it, leaning down to kiss her forehead affectionately. He hadn't really meant to do that with eyes watching them and she looked a little surprised. He couldn't take it back now though and he wouldn't if he could anyway. Being away from her for a couple of days, worrying because she was sick. He fucking missed her and he’d been worried. So what if he kissed her on the fucking head?

Shane was still lingering, waiting for the chance to tell them the news everyone had been dreading, knowing it was about to cause a shit storm. Charlene wrapped her arms around Daryl’s middle, ignoring the squirrels attached to him.

“I missed you,” she muttered. His hands came up around her, stroking her back soothingly as he buried his nose into her hair. He shot Shane a look over her head and smirked to himself. He was sick of watching the prick looking at his girl all the time. When she moved away, her eyes scanned the camp. She could see the people from the run were back. She had presumed they were back when she heard a car alarm blaring at one point. But she had been that out of it from her fever she had gone back to sleep. Her eyes settled on the new guy for second and she got that weird feeling again. The one that something was wrong. Everyone in camp was watching them both warily and Merle was nowhere to be seen. Her stomach dropped a little, wondering just what the fuck was going on. She looked at Shane then and he wiped a hand over his face, averting his eyes. She pursed her lips as she tried to ignore how her lungs were burning, tilting her chin up as she tried to stand up straighter.

“Where's the hell is Merle?”

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

I hope you enjoyed this guys. I'm actually excited for the sequel now I'm not doing canon. I have some ideas for where I'm gonna go with it and its gonna be a fun ride. Once I've got some of my other fics done and out of the way, I'll start on it.

Thanks for being here, I love you all.

Taglist: @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog @walkingdead-dixon

[scourgewins]

Mafia AU Part 2.3

(This chapter was the hardest to write and I have no idea why! Drawing Entity had to help me with editing this one, so once again, THANK YOU, Drawing Entity! You’re a lifesaver! Enjoy the fruit of our labors, people of Tumblr. This is officially the end to Chapter 2.)

(For anyone who needs to catch up: Part 1, Part 2.1, and Part 2.2)

(Warnings: Guns, mentions of drinking)

The alleyway leading up to Joey’s headquarters was dark, with only the light from street lamps at the end to guide them. Sammy kept his weapon trained on Norman, though he was reasonably sure the other gangster wouldn’t try and make a break for it. He could see Allison and Edgar were on guard duty as they approached. Allison had her machine gun in hand, her gaze sweeping over her surroundings. Edgar seemed oblivious as to what he was meant to be doing and had seated himself on one of the steps, his pie eyes blinking up at the night sky.

Norman turned to look back at Sammy. The musician, reading the look in his eyes, nodded. Moving swiftly yet silently, Norman disappeared into the shadow of a building, presumably taking a more covert route into their headquarters. Allison didn’t see or hear him, and Sammy couldn’t help but feel a touch of respect for Norman’s skills. Sliding his gun back into his coat pocket, Sammy turned his attention back to the main entrance and stepped back into the open.

He’d moved barely a foot before Allison’s machine gun was aimed straight at him. Edgar leaped up as he sensed Allison’s movement and growled, all six of his limbs tensed. Once she recognized her ally, Allison lowered her weapon, motioning to Edgar to relax. The cartoon looked up at her then back at Sammy, his gaze curious.

Sammy glanced about himself once more to make sure no one was watching before strolling up the steps.

“You sure took your time.” Allison said as he came to eye level with her.

The musician shrugged, “Things have been hectic over there; I wanted to see what Henry would do after the speakeasy fight.”

“Are you sure you weren’t just recovering from your time at the speakeasy?” Allison asked, raising an eyebrow, “I noticed you weren’t entirely sober that night.”

Sammy waved her concerns aside as if there was no truth in them, “I can handle my alcohol.”

Allison looked skeptical, but didn’t argue. She gestured with her chin up the steps, “He’s been waiting for you.”

Not needing to ask who “he” meant, Sammy jogged up the remaining steps and into the building. The entrance led into a large hallway that branched off into a kitchen and a parlor. Grant sat reading a book in the parlor, a lamp beside him allowing for some light to read by. He must be on guard duty next, Sammy figured, though it wasn’t uncommon for Grant to be up at this hour when most everyone had gone to bed; he seemed to enjoy the lack of people.

Grant seemed to sense Sammy’s gaze and looked up, his glasses glinting in the light. The musician dipped his head in greeting. Grant narrowed his eyes and returned to his book. Rolling his eyes, Sammy proceeded down the hallway and up the staircase to Joey’s office. Definitely not the sociable type.

The steps creaked underfoot as Sammy made his way upstairs. Reaching the third floor, he strode briskly over to the office, preparing himself for what lay inside; depending on Joey’s mood, this interaction could go a number of ways. He’d planned on ranting to Joey about how he’d almost been killed that morning, but now that he was right outside his office, the idea was losing its appeal.

Sammy sighed and knocked firmly on the hard wood of the door. There were muffled voices from within, and soon the door was opened by Bendy. The musician was taken aback by Bendy’s appearance. The living cartoon looked deeply sad and troubled, his mouth set in a frown instead of its usual grin. The demon’s pie eyes widened once he realized who was before him, and his grin perked up again, though Sammy noted it looked forced.

“Well, look who’s here!” he said in that high cartoon voice of his, stepping aside to let Sammy into the room, “I thought you’d be drinking with your pals over on Henry’s side.”

“Quiet, Bendy.” Joey’s voice was calm yet dangerous. Bendy’s smile faltered and he hastily returned to his place beside Joey, lowering his gaze.

Sammy deemed it wise not to say anything until his boss had addressed him. He took off his hat and held it by the brim as Joey considered him a moment.

“Any news?” the mob boss asked. His voice was much more chipper than it had been a second ago..

Sammy’s mind flashed back to his conversation with Norman. If he didn’t tell Joey now, and Joey somehow found out about it, Sammy knew he was as good as dead. But risks were apart of this line of work, and Sammy was willing to take this admittedly large risk for some extra cash. So he kept his mouth shut on that matter.

“They’re anxious.” Sammy said, in regards to Henry’s side. “They’re not sure what we’re going to do next. Henry’s been trying to protect people on guard duty with his ink shields. Everyone’s on high alert.” Sammy glanced over at Bendy, who was staring at him intently, before returning his gaze to Joey’s snake-like green eyes, “There’s not much to say; Henry knows you well enough to expect a follow-up attack.”

Joey nodded slowly, the smile on his face widening, “Then we’ll give him one.”

Sammy felt his eyebrows raise, “How big?”

“The biggest so far.” Joey stood up abruptly. He was much smaller than Sammy, but the sheer ferocity in his gaze was enough to make the musician want to take a step back. “We’re pulling out all the stops on this one.”

Sammy felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he registered those words, but didn’t let any of that inner turmoil spread to his face. Steeling himself, he said slowly, “You mean it’s time I revealed myself?”

“High time!” Joey exclaimed cheerfully, unheeding of the jolt of panic Sammy felt at those words, “I’ve got a plan I’ve been concocting for awhile now. I just needed some time to experiment.”

“Experiment with what?”

Joey’s eyes adopted a mischievous glint, “With a particular brand of dark magic.”

Despite his trepidation, Sammy was curious, “What sort of ‘particular brand’?”

It was obvious Joey had been building up to this exact moment. The mob boss spread his hands out in a showy manner, his grin impossibly wide, “Mind control!”

That was unexpected. Somehow, Sammy had thought Joey’s plan would be more of a frontal assault. This idea was much more clandestine.

He decided to voice the obvious question, “Who will you mind control? Henry?”

Instantly, a change settled over Joey’s face. It took on a sinister air, though his grin didn’t fade, “Of course not! He needs to feel how I felt.” His upbeat voice became laced with malice, a combination that Sammy found quite unnerving. “I want him to know what it’s like to have someone you trust stab you in the back and slice you in the eye.” An absent hand raised to the scar across his right eye, “I want him to know how it feels to have someone you love snatched from you, to look on as that someone turns on you, too.” 

Joey’s eyes had remained pinned on Sammy as he spoke. The corners of Joey’s mouth twitched as he finished his speech, for once confused as to whether to smile or frown.

Sammy didn’t know what to say, and so kept his mouth shut. Bendy nodded, a grim expression on his usually bright face. He agreed with Joey’s plan. Sammy wasn’t so sure if he was as on board; there was still much Joey hadn’t explained.

“Well,” the musician said at last, “If not Henry, then who?”

At once, Joey was cheerful again, “Boris!”

Bendy stiffened beside the mob boss. A tentative grin spread across the little devil’s face. Sammy would have thought he’d be more alarmed to learn his friend - one could even say brother - was going to be mind controlled, but came to the conclusion that just having Boris back on his side was all Bendy was focused on; the two had been close before the split.

The plan came together in Sammy’s mind, “So you want me to kidnap Boris, thereby betraying myself to Henry’s side, so you can get him on our side?”

“Exactly right! You’re as sharp as ever, Sammy!” The gangster settled back down in his seat, “Now, let’s go over the details.”

The next hour was spent briefing Sammy as to Joey’s plan to “enact his revenge.” It was past one in the morning when Sammy was at last allowed to slink back to Henry’s headquarters.

Sammy would be forever grateful towards street lamps for letting him find his way to and back in the dead of night. There were much less voices emanating from the speakeasy at this hour, more because most people had drunk themselves into a stupor than any real testament to the time.

Why is the walk back always longer? Sammy sulked to himself. He’d taken another route back than the one he’d used to get to Joey’s place, a route which was supposed to be shorter. All he wanted was to crawl into his bed and drift off to sleep, relieving himself of the thoughts that plagued him.

The day he’d so long dreaded now had a fixed date. Just a day from now he would be kidnapping Boris and shooting anyone who got in the way (“Don’t kill Henry, though,” Joey had said, “He gets to watch.”). Shooting anyone who got in the way. That someone could easily be Matt or Susie, his closest friend and… well, whatever Susie was to him. You agreed to this, Sammy, he reminded himself, No going back.

Despite all his misgivings, he knew he wouldn’t.

[jokiking-blog]

Stay

From the moment Keith stormed from his apartment, Lance fell into a restless depression. It was subtle at first. Daily routine had been altered to fit two humans in his small studio apartment and his habit of putting a coffee cup under the Keurig was something now that he stared at, losing track of time. He started, inhaling deeply and turning around, leaving the cup untouched in its rightful position. Then it became hard. Sleeping alone was the most obvious hint that he was beginning to fall. Half awake, the boy would roll over and reach for ebony strands, pale skin and the smell of lavender. It lingered on his sheets for a week. But only the scent was there, accompanied by a pillow that was his half ass attempt at combating that loneliness. Lance would stare at his phone, waiting for texts or calls. Each one that came in from someone else was a killer. His heart ached. He wasn't even sure what he did, to tell the truth. Keith had grown tired of him. That was the only reason he could logically conclude. And this realization of his own invention sent him further down the rabbit hole. Meals were pushed away. Calls were left unanswered. The blinds were drawn and he would only step outside to smoke, a nervous habit he had quit long ago that suddenly came rocketing back in full force. He had sores on his hands again from over washing, anxious chewing and the occasional strike against the wall. Lance was spiraling. Not even Allura could find a way to cheer him up, her wisdom meaning nothing to a heart that could not hope for a light in the dark. No one could figure it out. Give him time he thought, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed. But time went by and still nothing soothed him. The phone beside him rang and he turned his eyes to it, drawing another drag from his cigarette. He had given up going outside. The whole dark room was hazy. Keith. His name slid across the screen and Lance stared at it, unsure of how he should react. He picked it up hesitantly and swiped to answer. "Lance?" God that voice. It made him want to cry. He bit down on the cigarette, instantly regretting it. "Lance, you there?" "I am." An exhale from the other side. "I'm sorry." Silence. Sorry for what? For leaving him to wonder why he was wasting away over a single human being? Sorry for forgetting that he existed and had a soul and heart too? What was he sorry for? He popped the cig back in between his lips and sucked in. After he breathed out through his nose, he responded. "Why?" That was apparently a labyrinth to the paladin. It took him a long time to answer. "I left you and didn't keep in contact for three weeks. I needed space." Space? He couldn't connect the dots in his weakened state and simply thought that he would give him the stars. He would name constellations after and for Keith. "And?" Keith was beginning to get frustrated. Lance could practically feel his energy through the speaker. "I'm at your door." "It's locked." "No shit." Lance didn't say anything. The cigarette burned his fingers and he put it in the ash tray on his bedside table which was already crowded with the corpses of cancer sticks. "Well?" Still he said nothing. This guy had the power to break him. Just as he had been broken before, over and over by countless others. He was tired of the game. "It hurts." Keith stopped breathing. Or at least it sounded like he did. What hurt? Everything. He was starving, but not hungry. He was bleeding, but not bandaging up his wounds. He was hiding, with no desire to come out again. "I'm coming in." "Please.." Please? Please go away. Please come back. Choosing between the two was so difficult. His shoulders slumped when he heard the lock turn. He knew he should have removed the key from under the mat. Mindlessly, he lit another cigarette and puffed twice before Keith's footsteps fell across the wood floor. He made no comment about the smoke as the lock clicked behind him. Clothes were strewn across the usually spotless apartment. The bed wasn't made and it was dark. Keith reached to flip the light switch and then decided against it, leaving his shoes at the front door. Then he walked, closing the distance between him and his partner, if they could even still be called that. Keith had no clue what Lance was going to say about their relationship. He stood, a hitch in his breath when he saw Lance. He was a mess. His hair had been allowed to grow, he hadn't shaved in a few days and the amount of cigarettes in the ash tray next to the bed was ungodly. Blue eyes turned slowly to look up at him. Keith frowned and reached down to pluck the cigarette from Lance's mouth. The boy merely reached shakily for another one. "Why are you back, Keith?" Keith met his stare. "I was wrong." "And now you're right?" "No. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." Lance turned his head away from him, moving to stand up. It was then that Keith noticed the shitty job he'd done of bandaging his knuckles and spaces in between. Angry bruises exploded around the raw joints. "What can I do to say I'm sorry?" Lance wavered, swaying a bit before standing right in front of him. Grabbing the cigarette Keith had taken from him, he alternated between the one he had just lit and the one he now had back. He closed his eyes and whispered his response. "Stay." "Done." It came so quick, Keith didn't even have time to consider what stay meant. Lance elaborated for him. "I mean, stay, Keith Kogane." Keith's brows knit in slight confusion. "Stay with me even when things aren't right. Stay with me when you're wrong. Stay when you don't want to be near anyone. Stay when I say the wrong things and stay when I am unsure of how to cure your sadness or anger. Stay with me." He was beginning to realize that this was more than just a request. The man searched Lance's eyes, feeling the seconds tick by painstakingly slow. "What are you asking, Lance?" "Stay with me." "....forever?" Lance nodded, wincing when the first cigarette burned his fingers, but he refused to let it go, mainly so he would not turn away from Keith. The two waited in the dark room, the sound of cars outside echoing off the walls. How was Keith supposed to answer? Was this a marriage proposal, or something else? "Burn me." Keith's eyes snapped back to his. "Tear me apart. Slit my throat. Carve my heart out of my chest. Grind my bones to dust. I'd gladly take all the pain if it means you'll stay." Keith choked out the question. "Lance, are you proposing to me?" His partner didn't smile, laugh or make any movement to show he was flustered. He merely stared, waiting before he slowly broke the silence. "Would you like me to ask differently?" "No- I mean..." "Fine." Lance turned and put both cigarettes in the ash tray before he slid his wounded hand under his significant others. Then, he bent to one knee. "Marry me, Keith Kogane." The world stopped turning. A million thoughts went through Keith's head but he could only get three words out. "...Oh my god." Lance paid no mind.

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Well there it is folks, my first one-shot fanfic on tumblr.  Annnd it’s Klance for the win.  I kind of just threw in that Lance smokes because I can see him doing it so sorry if that’s not for you. Anyway hope you enjoyed.

[catboyrightsdefender]

Can you tag the crush anons because it makes me uncomfortable to see them (probably jealousy, but either way I don't want to see them) of course I don't want to unfollow you because I like you a lot, but... at least the anons could be braver than me and actually reveal themselves so they could get together with you or somehow this situation could get solved another way, because like this it's just really hurts my heart. I hope you get this message, because a lot of mines don't get to you somehow

oh anon im really sorry :( from now on i will tag these asks with ‘c anons’ so you can blacklist it if you want. to be honest with you, these kind of anon make me a bit uncomfortable (i try to stay detached from things that happen online, but now that whole thing makes me kinda sad) because 1. i dont know who any of you are 2. the people here who claim to have a crush on me would never have a crush or whatever on me if they knew me irl. i dont look like i do in my selfies all the time, im deeply flawed, im a depressed dumbass. im almost 22 and my only real relationship lasted 3 months. im not a lovable person. the only persons who find me lovable or attractive are anons here on tumblr, and that makes me feel a bit bitter. im sad to read that your heart is hurt anon. i get attached to people really fast, and i got some crushes here too, but the few times i tried to say it it never worked out. who are you, anon? have we talked? are we friends? i dont want you to be sad. this isnt worth being sad. and sorry for not answering all asks, sometimes i get too anxious and then i feel like its too late to answer them.its not against you or anything, its just me being a dumb bitch. im really sorry that you feel like this anon, and again its not worth feeling sad. its just tumblr. i understand tho. please know that i care about you, and that i dont want you to feel bad. take care anon 💙💙💙

[myheartislookingforyoualways]

03.29.2021 Dear G,

Another restless night after another restless night last night. I am so tired of not being able to talk to you call you see you be with you. I done the very best I can to make and keep that promise i made to us when we last emailed each other when I told i wouldn’t contact you until I was a month sober. I’m am just coming to you now to ask you if it is ok if i contact you before . I know I made the promise to us and I know I did . I was going to keep it I really was and I’m sorry. My full one month of active sobriety is on the first of April . I can’t hold back anymore. I can’t be silent and on the sidelines . I just want to talk to you G. I just miss you with all heart each and every day I miss you more and more. I’ve laughed with you in silence at our snaps, I smiled at the tweets you’ve made, I’ve cried with you whenever you’ve posted to your tumblr, I’ve seen each and every lonely sad day that you’ve fought through and struggled through to get this painful time. It’s been painful and i’ve cried with you and for you. I’ve laughed at your tweets that are, i’ve smiled at your tweets that were you and so cute. Mostly though with each and every day I’ve gotten more and more deeply sad and longing for you and i just can’t take it anymore . I just cannot stay in silence here any longer when every single day and night i’ve talked to you, i’ve laughed with you, I’ve smiled with you, I’ve cried with , I’ve cried for you, i’ve longed for you, i begged for you, i’ve hoped that somehow you could hear me and you know that i’m thinking and feeling for you. I’ve done this all in silence. I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait any longer I just cannot wait to contact you any longer than this. I am so restless now each and every day that drags on and on and on. I had a countdown on my sobriety calendar beside our bed and i was just getting so anxious each and every day. I am saying to you now that i am here and I’ve always been here every single second of every single day and night since the last time that we emailed each other. I’ve read and reread that email over and over and over again. I’ve screenshooted the email where you told me not to contact you until I was a month sober. I’m sorry I took longer than expected and I’m sorry that I am few days short of a full month, my love. But I just cannot wait any longer in the sidelines, in the shadows, in the wings, waiting to step forward and back into your view, when I’ve been here the whole time, loving you from distance, from a veil, from a promise that I made to us. I am here my love and I am asking you very simply and plainly if I can come back home to us? 

It’s been struggle to be honest G and I’m sure you know because you know me inside and out. You know that by not contacting you until now that meant that struggled with sobriety after we last emailed. I have nothing but my openness and honesty now with you, because i have already lost you, and I may have lost you, the love of my life, forever, so I have nothing left to lose save for the last bit of openness, honesty and vulnerability that i can share with. Yes i did relapse twice after we emailed. Yes i was me that did that to myself. Yes i did choose to relapse and push the timeline for getting back to you and to us behind further behind than what I had asked for. That was all me . I didn’t give up . I tried and then I tried again and then I tried and I now I am here with almost a full month of active sobriety. It is not a on and off switch like so many times i said to you. It is a choice that I make for myself each and every day when I wake up , again and again and again , until I close my eyes and go to sleep at night. I put the red sharpie on the calendar beside our beside on the date and I cross it out. Every time i crossed it out, i said to myself ‘ I coming bb , I’m coming’. You know what though in this time that I’ve done that I’ve grown stronger each and every time I’ve done that. I’m even growing stronger in my resolve as I write these words to you . I have tried and failed in the past for my sobriety. Yes I did . I desperately and painfully did each and every time . Sometimes I gave for awhile . Sometimes I gave for way too long . Like what you saw when you came back with all the hopes and dreams for us in February. I still struggle every day with guilt, shame and regret for all that happened. But something happened last time i relapsed . I didn’t want to do it for anybody else. I just simply and plainly wanted to finally and fully and completely be happy with myself and who i was. I knew that this was just not working at I was failing at being the best person I could be in my life. I was failing and cheating myself out of happiness that i knew i wanted but didn’t want to and was afraid to get for myself. I cried and cried and cried day in and day out at the situation before i was able to see myself for what was. Then I stopped for what I was and I started making little choices every single day to be the person that I wanted to be. You my beautiful lover were always right and you were always there to tell the things I didn’t want to listen to but were the right things. Sober is just sober . Thats just it . That all I am either sober or not. But it is a life full of choices to be sober. I had to first want to desperately be sober for myself , then I had to not just get rid of the negative but full my life up with so much promise of joy and hope that I simply could not want to put any more negative in it . I had to make the littlest things a celebraion , such as getting out of bed, making that bed, having a shower , changing my clothes, and those little joys gave me more and more so that I could tackle the bigger ones day by. Then I needed a working plan that I had to have in place . Another thing that you told me and I didn’t want to listen to until now. Well here I am now with all three things : my absolute desire and burning passion to be better with every day , my little life full of things that are so joyful in the little things that I don’t want to go back or even look back, and a plan that i work every day because it is my number one and most important task in life and always has been : me . In the short time that I’ve been sober, I’ve had more clarity than ever before and I realize that there is peace in sobriety because there is only one choice to make : sobriety. Active addiction is full of a maze of choices , pathways leading to lies and more lies . The lies build up until it is exhausting. I am finding peace in that one simple choice . It is the way for self care and the way i can show myself the most love I can. It’s not all roses G and it never will . I will need to relentlessly work on my sobriety for my entire life and that will never ever change nor can I ever take it for granted, get arrogant about it, or take my hand off the wheel. But there is joy everywhere for me in this that I never saw before and even now I am grateful and I love you for you. You had to leave because you couldn’t stay no matter how much I wanted you to no matter how much it hurt you , no matter all the promises I made I wouldn’t have been able to keep them because I had no tools to build out my sobriety. Each and every day Im learning how to use tools on how to cope with life recovering drug addict and alcoholic. Yes it hurts. Yes its struggle. Yes I miss you so fucking much it pains me now to even write the words still that you are gone . But i realized I would rather be sober and feeling the pain of losing over numbing it for a quick escape . It’s not an escape thats a lie. Its all lies. I used to have so many conditions on my sobriety. You know . Well I’ll be sober if that doesn’t happen or if this happens or or or or or or or or or. It goes on and on. Now its just peaceful. It just is really one choice. That is the best way I can love myself now. 

Sobriety doesn’t make life any easier if anything it harder. It’s harder to wake up and face challenges and difficulties head on, face on, face them with every ounce of your strength and not run from them to a bottle or a line. But it is a life worth living because there is good in being able to proudly say to myself that i did that each and every day. It’s not easy and i never take it for granted every day. I struggle with the guilt, shame and regret of the choices I made when i was with you when the one i was to just desperately be able to have the chance to make is the choice of us. You and me. You and me. Us. But i face it every day. I face it every day. I whisper to you every day. I cry for you every day I beg you every day. I do all of it with full clarity and I don’t want it any other way. You know that we never really stopped communicating even when were weren’t technically talking to each other there was no way that we couldn’t talk to each. I mean with your twitter and your tumblr account and of course our spotify playlists. I really just wanted a way to be able to talk to you in some way any way that i could and I am grateful that i was still able to talk to you in whichever way that you deemed was appropriate for you. I lived for each and every song you uploaded , I listened to each and every song , every lyric, every note, every verse, the painful ones, the less painful ones, the hopeful ones, more painful ones over and over again. I made my playlists just for those sweet ears of yours . I handcrafted it knowing full well that you would be listening to it . I hoped that you would be able to be sustained like I was in love and yearning and passion just like i was all this time. This entire I felt like i was on a special language that we were both speaking to each and you know you felt that too. I hung on every tumblr post you made. I saved them all . I kept every little perfect morsel of you and I thought and i felt my through them . I felt the pain that you felt . I had hope through it . I made that promise to us that no matter happened i would still have hope. Even all the Tumblr posts you deleted i saved and read and reread. There is just no end to how much I want you G. There is no end to my love for you. It never really ever will be over for you and even if its just in my own heart and my own mind. But even now I am praying and hopeful that i can come to us and come to you and your love. I saw all your VSCO posts and the last one I saw of you in that beautiful red bikini I thought and I hope that you were motioning me back with your hand to the home of your heart my love. The last post where you asked where i was I wanted to just call you just hear your voice your sweet sweet voice. Still now I just want pick up the phone and call you my love and tell you I love you and I am here and I always will be here for us even if its only just me on the end of the phone. I’ve written and deleted so many emails over the past month. Not being able to talk to you, my best friend, all of sudden one day was just too much and it still is. I just want to pick up the phone and call you each and every day as I’m sitting here on our uncomfortable couch listening to your en espanol playlist. it is you and always will be you . you will always be the one i want. 

You are the love of my life G. I know that. I just know that there is no other way that i will be ever want to be with than you mi morenita, my wolf queen of the mur, the most beautiful girl in the universe. I will always want you and chase you and yearn for you and want to come back home to your heart.That will never change. You are my soulmate. You are the one that i was every lifetime with. Forever and day. I always have and I always will. I watched all of the snaps from the first to the last of us and I saw the love and the passion and the burning fire that was us and still is us in me. I’m aching for you as i write this. I am just wishing for you so badly and I do every single second of the day.  We can never be strangers even if I don’t see you for a million years, you’ll never be a stranger to me and I’ll never to a stranger to you. I know every single corner of your heart. I know how you are the most sensitive , caring , gentle soul with those that are the ones that you love. I know what makes you laugh , I know how you laugh , I know just how to make you smile. You know me just the same. You know every single part of me inside and out . You know my sensitive caring, gentle soul too. You know how much I love to enjoy the quiet moments. You know how to make me laugh. I know your love language and you know mine. I know all your hopes, dreams fears and desires and you know mine. I know that we dreamt of us together and we both dreamt that dream together. I still have that dream I still see you in my dreams and in my life. I still see myself in my life.  I still see an us and I want to come home to us. I never lost hope in us for one second this whole time . Even if you have I am asking for you to give me and us any bit of luck and hope that you may have left. Yes. I am fully and unabashedly, openly and honestly asking you G right now. I told myself that when I did finally get ahold of you again I wouldn’t hold back anything . I’m not going to . I never really did ever with us and I’m not about to start now. G I just want to come back home to your heart. I want this to work . I can’t lose you . I can’t lose us. I can’t lost us and you and me to something that i cannot hold, love, hug, squeeze, caress , hear the words of love and express the words of love to . I’ve lost so much to my addiction and I don’t want lost anything and most of all I don’t want to lose the love of my life to it. You. G. I want to be with you. If I was on mountain right now I would scream it at the top of my lungs to you but I’m saying this to . G I can’t lose you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to ever have to go through life knowing that you are somewhere here on this planet in this same existence in this same time as me but now with me and not with us. Yes I do know that you are my soulmate. I want to be you now. Forever and a day. Just talk to me . Tell me exactly what you want and what you need . Let’s come back to each other and let’s talk it through my love. You tell me what you need and I will my utmost to provide it for you openly and honestly and with truth. I will all put all of my energy into you and us that I always should have but cheated us out. Just tell me what you need my love. I know you love and you know I love you. Love and loving someone is choice made every single day. I am choosing you and I am asking you to give me a chance to be with you to be with us. I cannot and I will not be able to have it any other way. Just talk to me . Let’s talk to each other like we always did. You’re my best friend, the love of my life and the only one i think of dream of and want to come to right now. I can’t lose you don’t want to lose you. Tell me exactly what you want and tell me exactly what you need and tell me exactly what you don’t want. Just talk to me. Just tell me. Whatever you need to feel secure , however much time you need, whatever it is my love you just tell and I will do it. I will do it with the most that i can because the thought of being able to be given the chance to be with the love of my life is something that I will be forever grateful to you. Just give me the chance to come back to us and I will step by step piece by piece put your heart back together with the pieces of my heart. I know we can do this. I know we can . It is just a choice that we both have to make together. I choose you and finally I just choose you and only you now. I am fully and completely at your feet right now and I am asking you to choose us just once more. Peash my love peash let me back into our lives, let’s dream again once more. Let’s make new memories together. Let’s make plans . Lets live life together bb. Peash . You know me inside and out and I know you inside and out. Lets make the new memories together. There are enough that I could live off them forever but I don’t want be just a memory I don’t want to just be your first love . I want to be with you and loving you forever and a day. It’s just you and me and that it. Its just us and thats the choice that I’m asking you to make. I am not just asking I am begging you to give me just one more shred of luck. I’ll take it and cherish it and cherish and cherish you. 

I know that there is healing that still has to happen between us . I’m not saying that this is a reset. It never could be and I wouldn’t even want it to be. It will always just be you and me and our past and our present and our future too if you want that. I am here saying I want that if you do too. I will always want that for us. We need be able to heal and forgive and mend each other and learn how to move forward from this. But I want to do that with you. I want you to tell me every single little thing you need and want until you don’t want to talk anymore. I will listen to every single little thing you have to say. I will do all this with openess, honesty , humility and my love and caring for you. I won’t lie to you. If what you are asking is something I cannot do I will tell you. But at this point I will do anything for you and for us. I want so much for us. I wish so many things too. But it just starts with us talking. Can we start there? Can we talk this ? I want to talk to you openly and honestly. I want to talk to you directly. Not through Tumblr, not through VSCO, not through songs, not through anything else than just talking my love it starts there. There are alot of things that I’ve realized in the past month of my CAMH outpatient rehab that i do know I need to work on and work on relentlessly. There were good things about me i know that much. I know that because you love me. I also know now that you just love me and thats it. No further conditions needed. Thats just what love is. Its a process and way of living that I’ve only started to understand and to really come to terms with. Yes you’re right I do need to love myself first to love you properly. Yes there were many good things about the way that I loved you but there were also many toxic things about the way I loved you too. I am seeing it now and I  am not shying away from it. There are conversations that have to happen if were are going to move forward. Conversations about what didn’t work before and what needs to change if its going to work for us if you do give us another chance otherwise it would be the same. I don’t want the same either. I want change . I want be able to love you securely and without putting any of my toxic behaviour into. There are issues surrounding my childhood trauma that I’m only now starting to accept and to recognize . These are things that I need to address right away in my life if I am in the interest of being happy and being able to be in a relationship with somebody that is loving and lasts and is secure. I want to do them all. Right away. I want to be with you free of the trauma that made us not work before. I want to talk to you about everything that could possibly hold us back from our happiness together and prevent us from being able to love each other properly and in an healthy way.  I want to just love you securely and I want to do that with you right away. Communication and honesty has to happen first. I know its a process but its something I want more than anything because I just want you and I will always want you G. I miss being able to talk to you openly and honestly . I just miss you G.  I am asking you to if I can come and can we build this again step by step brick by brick?

I am giving you this choice completely. For so long I took the choice away from you .  So now I am giving this choice to you. G will you choose to let there be new memories for us, will you choose to give me and us another chance for this love that I know we both have. It was real and it still is real for me. You can take it as slow as you want. You can tell me whatever you need or don’t need. I will listen and follow anything and everything that you tell me you need to feel safe, secure, valued and cherished in this relationship if there is to be one . That’s your choice . I’m leaving it up to you. You know my choice . You know my heart is yours. You know me and you always will. I am your lover boy. Your huevito. Your gringito. Your little whimpering doggy. You know everything. Can you just take all the time you need but just give it some time. I will be here and I will be waiting . Forever if I have . I really will . I will wait for you . I just want you G and I only ever will . Don’t worry though this isn’t going sway my choice to be sober in any way. My sobriety is a life choice and its unconditional and seperate from you or anyone . Its what i want for me . Nobody else. Of course if you do decide to come back to us then i will be open and honest with you about my sobriety and my state of being at all times. I will give you that every single second of the morning night and day. I will do everything in my power to make you feel safe and secure and aware of my sobriety journey at all times.

So don’t do anything you don’t want to do . Just do exactly what you want to do and do what is best for you. I will always love you G that will never. If I’m so lucky to see your face again, to pick you up in my arms, to smell your hair, to kiss your beautiful lips then I will be the luckiest guy in universe again. If you do not want to for whatever reasons, then I would have been the luckiest man in the universe. If you do come back to us I do promise you one thing I will scream to the world of my love to you and I will never stop loving you harder better and more than I have ever every single day for as long as I can. If you let me I want to to see you. I want to just take the time in my life, in our lives to appreciate you and us. So much of our time was in between other times. If you so want to do us again I want to see you again on a beach somewhere. Let’s take some time to get away and be together somewhere were its just us and just our love . You just tell me yes and Ill  be there. 

G this is it. This is my big letter to you. This is me asking for you back . This is its G. I had planned on this big thing. I had so much built up but this is it. This is my big letter to you asking for you to give me and us one more chance. I wanted everything with you and I still do. Everything we talked about I still see and want. You already know my choice is and always will be you. I am again begging you and asking you to give me that last little bit of luck the only luck I’ll need for the rest of my life. But it all starts with you one single choice . I will leave that choice to you.  I’ll wait for you as long as you need. I’ll wait as long as I have to. I know that is that only thing I’ll besides running back to your heart . If you were motioning me back with your hand in the red bikini I wont waste a second. If not I’ll keep waiting. You are the love of my life. 

Te Amo

Y Siempre 

Te Amare

Forever 

and 

A 

Day

[illness-to-wellness]

Everybody has their own relationship with social media, but I think one thing is common to all of us who use any of the sites like Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, Tumblr, and so on: There are pluses and minuses of our use of them, and it’s all too easy to get sucked in and have the minuses drown out the pluses.

None of these facts will come as a surprise to many of you, but I wanted to put them in here anyway: Technology, if used too much, affects our health and productivity. On social media sites, it’s all too easy to believe that others’ carefully-curated shares about their life are what their lives actually look like; we accidentally compare our own lives’ messes and middle parts to others’ highlight reels. We compare ourselves negatively, believing that others have it together or that they have more friends than we do (and some of the friends we want to have, or the friends we already have but apparently aren’t hanging out with), and it can affect our own self-images and even our mental health; in other words, it can make us depressed.

I’m writing this article both because I think it’s a public health issue and because it’s been one of my own issues. I noticed this at the beginning of the summer and decided to make some big changes in my life because I was tired of thinking things like why did this status only get 5 likes? Why hasn’t anyone commented on this; I look so cute in this selfie? Why didn’t they invite me to this party? Should I be at school socializing instead of at home, resting? Am I enough, or am I too much? I was tired of constantly checking my phone to see if someone had texted, Facebook messaged, or Snapchatted me back. I was touching my phone and checking my Facebook so many times an hour that I lost track.

These thoughts and actions are embarrassing for me to admit, but I know that I’m not alone here. I got tired of wondering how people were reacting (or not reacting) to my public persona, the person who was constantly giving to others and living an interesting, vulnerable, and wildly authentic life. But is it possible to be truly authentic if you’re constantly putting yourself out there, excited to see others’ reactions to you? Is it possible to be true to yourself if you’re always considering what others will think (and then how you will think of yourself in response), and always thinking about snapping just the right photos and writing just the right words to represent your life moments? If you’ve become even half as ridiculous as I was being at the beginning of the summer, this article is for you because maybe, just maybe, the kinds of changes that I’ve made to my life this summer could help to free you, too.

  This is a drawing that I did many years ago, and there are so many aspects of my life that fit its theme. This time, the cage was social media’s tougher aspects.

  Smartphone apps that I’ve used to reduce my phone screentime:

Moment. (Free; can get premium, which I recommend.) It tracks your phone usage every day and tells you exactly what apps are taking up your time. You can set your maximum screen time so you see what kinds of things push you over your limit. (It’s also worth considering your emotional state on the days that you go over your limit – I noticed I was often sad, lonely, or anxious on the days that I went over my limit.) If you get the premium version ($5), it has a 14-day training program to help you use your phone less. I highly suggest it – it was helpful and even illuminating.

Unplugged. (Free) You set a goal for how long you want to leave your phone untouched and this turns on airplane mode until you touch it again. Nothing is as productive as completely shutting the notification possibilities off.

Forest. ($1) You set a goal for how long you want to leave your phone untouched and if you reach it, you get trees that grow. The point is to grow a full and lush forest, and it’s nice to be able to see progress and get a tiny reward at the end of each session.

Apps that I deleted off my phone:

Facebook. This one’s obvious, no? If it’s not there, you can’t mindlessly check it. It requires a slight increase in intentionality to log on later on your computer, which means it can’t become an unintentional habit without your consent.

Snapchat. This one was less obvious for me. I decided to delete it while I was in Europe so that when I was traveling alone, I wouldn’t have as many temptations and opportunities to feel lonely or think that I wasn’t where I was “supposed” to be. I shocked myself by never feeling lonely while I was alone during those 1.5 weeks of my trip (except when I had the flu; I wanted my mom, but I think that’s a common thought rather than an isolating one). I cherished my solitude and silence, and I think a large part of that was because I wasn’t comparing my moments to others’, my solitude to their togetherness. And it was truly magnificent.

Guess what? This surprised me, and it may surprise you: Once I was back from Europe, I never added it back. It’s just that good for me to have it gone. I sometimes miss having a large swath of friends know things about my life (and vice versa), and I sometimes miss the sweet snaps from people who thought of me when they saw something, but there are other ways to communicate these same things. I cherish its absence because I once used it mindlessly and almost always ended up constantly wondering if I had an exciting enough social life (or life in general). What I’ve come to think over this summer is this: Who cares? My life is my own. And it’s beautiful. And these are the moments that I’m dancing like nobody’s watching and living like it’s my last day.

Thoughts that help me move through this process:

You are enough. Write this on your walls until you believe it. You can’t imagine just how a sense of self-compassion will change your life. Here are some self-care ideas to help you learn to spend time taking care of the most precious person in your life, the one who’s with you forever: you.

You have real connections. In fact, at this point in my life, I have more friends than I know what to do with. God has blessed me with a ridiculous amount of love. I don’t need to worry about the number of likes I get; I have people who celebrate or mourn with me in person. I have people who know my story and love me, and vice versa. Does everyone need to know everything? Do I need everyone to love me in order to know that I am a person of value? The response to both of these is a confident “no.”

Your life is exactly what it’s supposed to be. I don’t need to go to every party. Especially with the kind of fatigue that I deal with on a daily basis, I can’t go to everything (though I have many tools that help me to thrive, despite the fatigue). I don’t need to win every award or get every degree. I don’t need to be married with kids yet. I don’t need to do the things that “everybody else” is doing. I love my life. It’s imperfect, but it’s real. It’s daring. It’s unpredictable in the best kinds of ways. It’s full. It’s mine, and it’s perfect for me in all of its imperfections (even in the moments that I don’t love it so much!).

You are loved. I don’t need constant reminders of it in the form of notifications. I know this; it is deeply-rooted in my soul.

[image description: a white piece of paper with two different kinds of texts on it. One is a lowercase handwritten cursive and that comprises the top and bottom lines: “you are enough” and “you always were.” In the middle of these sayings are black capital letters with yellow, green, and pink dots in them. This font is smaller than the handwritten cursive and it says: “not because you did or said or thought or bought or became or created something special, but because”. Looking from the whole, this says: “you are enough not because you did or said or thought or bought or became or created something special, but because you always were.”]

Actions that I’ve replaced social media and phone time with:

Connecting with people in person. This seems obvious, but in some ways, it’s not. As much as I miss my friends who are far away, it’s crucial for me to cultivate and strengthen nearby friendships. I’ve carved out more time in my calendar for true, face-to-face connection, the kind of moments when it’s just me and one other person (or a small group) and my phone is in my purse, untouched.

Being more focused. I’ve gotten so much more done. Multi-tasking isn’t a strength of mine (or of people in general).

Reading books. I’m embracing my nerdy, introverted self far more than I used to. If you need any book recommendations, here are my shelves on Goodreads.

Exploring my surroundings and not worrying about snapping the perfect picture of it. I’ve come to love the moments that are just for me, moments that I won’t share about (not because they’re secret, but just because people don’t need to know everything about my life and me – and it’s wonderful to have moments and memories that are just my own). 

Journaling and pondering my current paths. Where is God at work? Where am I changing and growing? Where am I going, and do I like it or hope to tweak it?

I’m not exactly an expert or role model here, y’all; I still check my likes and wonder what people think of me. I think that’s called being human. We have made our lives more connected and complicated with our social media usage, and it can be truly positive if you have a strong self-image and an awareness that our posts are the glossy depictions of our lives that we all put up for public consumption (and an awareness that life isn’t really just like that for anyone on your newsfeed – even you!). It can easily become more negative than positive, though, and that’s where I found myself at the beginning of the summer. Now, with the changes that I’ve made this summer, I’m posting on Facebook less, writing my thoughts in a journal before I consider sharing them, texting my life’s sweet and sour moments to my dearest friends rather than sharing them with my entire social network through Snapchat, comparing myself with others less and less, and putting my phone away for longer and longer periods.

My life is good. I might even go as far as to say the cheesy phrase that I’m living my best life. I’m increasingly content with exactly where I am and what I’m up to, both in the short-term and the long-term. I’m learning to dance like nobody’s watching, to cherish being alone and not wondering what others are up to, and to love myself just as I am, and just where I am at this moment in time (and not worry about the number of likes and the kinds of reactions that I get in response to this moment, if I choose to share it). I can use social media in the ways that fill my heart, like connecting with friends who are halfway around the world and celebrating my friends’ life events, like marriages, babies’ births and milestones, and new jobs. And then I can walk away from social media before I get to the negative aspects that weigh my heart down (or, at least, too high an intensity of them – you can’t avoid them entirely).

  [image description: Emmie, the blogger, standing with her back to the camera in front of hundreds of paper cranes on strings. She is wearing a white dress and her bird tattoo is visible].

Whatever your route to an increased sense of freedom may look like, I hope you search for it and choose to get on it with all your soul and strength. It’s worth it. Learning to Dance Like Nobody’s Watching in the Age of Snapchat Everybody has their own relationship with social media, but I think one thing is common to all of us who use any of the sites like Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, Tumblr, and so on: There are pluses and minuses of our use of them, and it's all too easy to get sucked in and have the minuses drown out the pluses.

[green-violin-bow]

Post-Sherlocked I think people are doing a bit of reassessment on where they stand in the fandom. I’m no different; I’m currently going through real-life events (illness and probable death of a close loved one; intense therapy) that are making me sad, anxious and panicky on a daily basis. For my own good I need to disconnect from the negativity that has raged in the fandom since Series 4 aired. My follower count has been fluctuating wildly in the past few months and I think it’s because people are following thinking I’m one thing and unfollowing again a while later. I just want to make a post letting you know where I’m at on the major issues being talked about post-con, and what I’ll be doing with the blog from now on; anyone who chooses to unfollow after that – seriously, no hard feelings, even if we’re mutuals or even buddies. There are people I’m going to have to (for my own mental health) unfollow right now, but who I hope to be able to follow again later, when/if the fandom gets an injection of good news and positivity.

I’d like to stress – if we have differing opinions, that does not mean one of us is ‘right’. My opinions do not constitute a judgement on yours. I’m trying to do what helps me right now.

Series 4: I hated it, not going to lie. I have made my share of salty/snarky comments in the past few months. However my coping strategy in the last little while has simply been to try and avoid thinking about the series, except for reblogging ongoing analysis posts. I now want to start trying to engage with it more. I’m actually going to rewatch the damn thing again soon, and start trying to read the subtext once more. What’s the point?, you may ask, and honestly that’s why I’ve been so depressed for the past few months. But that brings me to…

TPTB: I was horrified to read from con-goers that TPTB have received death threats and harassment. I honestly feel ashamed for our fandom. If you think threatening and harassing the creators is acceptable, please unfollow me now. (Note: there is a difference between harassment of the creators and expressing your disappointment in private fan spaces.) Similarly, for my own mental health I need to disconnect from the idea of the writers as somehow maliciously fucking with us. I feel as though I was queerbaited, and yes I’m hurt, and I hate that others are so hurt. But I have to just keep plodding on; and for me, that needs to include viewing TPTB as very human humans doing their best with their own specific set of views, biases and prejudices which I may or may not share. In particular I have been tearing myself apart in recent months over the fact that I have admired Mark’s work since I was 11. I have not known how to reconcile that with my feelings post-S4. I’m letting go now. No matter what you think of him, the fact is that he has been a vocal activist for a lot of LGBT causes (including Switchboard, which I myself had cause to use in a very low time). He and his husband are a visible, loving gay couple in a time when it’s still not that easy (just look at all the hate they received on the BBC comment boards during promo for The Boys in the Band). I don’t have any such fondness for Moffat; honestly I didn’t particularly know his work until Sherlock. I think he is rude, condescending and nasty to young female fans. I revolt against that. He and his family still should not be attacked – not only is it awful, it makes the fandom as a whole look insane.

Analysis of the show: I think with the current lack of understanding of S4, it’s hard for me to tell anymore whether Johnlock is endgame. I joined the fandom at the end of 2015 as TJLC, and TJLC is staying in my bio; it is useful shorthand for the fact that my personal reading of the show from this point forward will include speculation on whether Johnlock could still be endgame. To those who think that that makes me some kind of doxxer, harasser or threatener: you are wrong. Check my blog: I deliberately don’t use the word ‘anti’ and I have tried not to use ‘casuals’ in anything but its most innocent sense. I have never sent (or thought of sending) hate to TPTB. I have never started or perpetuated ship wars. The only thing I tag that could be construed as this is ‘mary wank’ because I understand that it upsets some people to see her discussed as a villain (my personal opinion of her). I have been scrupulous in tagging for this. I am not interested in hate and ship wars. I am on Tumblr to appreciate my ships, to analyse the show, and to explore the idea that there could be a romantic Johnlock ending to this story.

Ships: Johnlock and Mystrade. Mostly writing Mystrade recently, because TLD hurt me deeply and made it hard for me to write Johnlock.

Ben’s relationship/family: This is bizarre. I go out of my way to avoid stuff like this. It creeps me out and I will never reblog anything about this.

Other things my blog contains: Benedict, Martin, cake (for Mycroft), fic recs, cats, bunnies, guinea pigs, flowers, Keira Knightley, Discworld and Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, kitchens, Ghostbusters, feminism, ACD Holmes and other adaptations, detective novels, politics, ranting about Brexit, Morse/Lewis/Endeavour, Parade’s End, Pride, Maurice