#quality content maybe someday for now never heard of it

[octoberland]

In Memoriam

This post is personal in nature and discusses my spiritual beliefs with mentions of death. I have followers here for many different reasons including fandom, writing, and real life. I don't have the time or the spoons to separate out content so you get all of me, for better or for worse. Just skip this if this kind of thing bothers you.

Many of you here know that I am Lokean. I felt drawn to Loki when I was young but it wasn't until several years ago that I finally dedicated myself to him/them. I have re-dedicated myself to him/them every year since then.

I have obsessive qualities in my nature and so when I first embarked on this journey I scoured the internet learning. I read books and blogs. I watched Youtube videos and Instagram content. I learned a lot but I also felt disconnected from much of it. Everyone was so SERIOUS. And yes, I take my faith seriously. But I also believe in not taking oneself too seriously, and I feel like Loki agrees with that.

So not too long ago - maybe a couple of years ago - I found a Youtube channel: Why So Sirious. Here was this older woman, with this sort of nasally and yet somehow comforting voice, posting gaming and music and card drawings, all while surrounded by plushies and butterfly stickers and talking about all sorts of things Lokean and Heathen and Norse. She was inclusive and funny and exuded a warmth that had been lacking in other spaces I'd searched in for community.

I subscribed to her channel and watched faithfully. My favorites were her card draws and her discussions and meditation videos. She made me feel connected to Loki in a way I hadn't before. For the first time I felt like there was someone else out there who understood my spiritual journey and wouldn't judge me for it.

I never interacted with her. And I never sought out other places she lived online. Honestly? It just didn't occur to me to do that. I was happy with the content I was seeing. I didn't feel a need to look for more. I regret that now.

In order for this story to make sense I need to backtrack a little.

On Samhain of this year I re-dedicated myself to Loki. This is something I do every year. But something was different this year. Not too long before I re-dedicated I felt him slip away. I don't know why. It just felt like he wasn't with me any more. I knew from my research that this could happen. Sometimes he only stays with people long enough to incite necessary change in their life. Sometimes he just gets busy. He is a deity, after all. I had always heard that he would never leave a devotee without the care of another deity but I did not feel the presence of another. So I surmised that he would be back someday. I chose to re-dedicate myself despite his absence because I had faith that he would return. I spent the next several weeks continuing my daily practices, holding this faith.

This past weekend I had a quiet weekend. That's pretty normal for me. Some weekends are super busy and others are very quiet. I spent the weekend home alone just relaxing and watching stuff. On Saturday I felt an urge to cry several times that day. I didn't know why. Nothing bad had happened. I wasn't depressed. The urge to cry was completely at odds with how I was feeling and what I was doing.

I also felt Loki return on Saturday. I can't explain it. It's just a feeling. For weeks I felt "empty". Then, suddenly, I felt full. Full of his light and his presence and his voice. I was overjoyed, practically bouncing up and down all day long. And yet I felt that urge to cry. It was with me Sunday too.

Then today. Today was nothing special. I overslept. I got up and took care of the animals. I made myself some tea. For lunch I sat on my couch and put on Youtube. This is something I do as often as I can. It's a way for me to slow down and eat in the moment instead of inhaling food in front of my computer. I scrolled through my subscription content looking for something to watch. And there it was. A voice video explaining that Kitty had died. I never even knew her name until that video.

Everything clicked into place after that. I learned that she had passed on Saturday. The same day I began feeling like crying. The same day Loki returned to me.

I have spent all day today crying off and on in earnest. Which I feel slightly ashamed of doing because I never once exchanged a single comment with this person. But she had such a positive impact on my life. And I regret it now. She'll never know how much she helped me or how included she made me feel.

I am very struck by the void this will leave in my life. She filled a much needed role. I feel as though I have no else to talk to even though I never actually talked to her. But connection happens in all sorts of way. And we communicated in a way, her as guide and me as a student of sorts.

I spent a lot of time today thinking about Loki's absence and return, the timing of everything. A part of me thought he came back to comfort me during this time, but that's hubris. Even gods need comfort. Maybe he came back because her death is a loss for him too. Maybe he just wants to feel close to all of us right now.

Tomorrow is the start of Loki Fest. I am hoping I have enough time to make some connections there.

Anyway, all of this really is to say that the Lokean community lost a bright and loving voice this weekend. I am so incredibly saddened by this loss. My heart goes out to her partner and to all other community members affected.

And to Loki. Always, to Loki.

Fire is destructive. But it's also cleansing. And death is but transformation. Painful, yet beautiful.

I can hear Kitty now, from the other side. Well, hello there...

[totallynormalfanficauthor]

“Doctor?” 

Sally called for her creator as she headed down the ramp to the bottom floor of the tower. She strolled daintily across the tile to his lab, and went inside without hesitation. Finkelstein was right where she expected him to be- off to the side of the room working on some sort of project. Jewel was standing to his left, presumably helping him. 

They both looked up as she entered. 

“Ah, Sally. Come in, my girl.” The doctor turned his attention back to the work in front of him. “Do you need something?” 

“I just wanted to let you know I’ll be heading out now,” She told him.

“I see. And where will you be headed?” 

“Well…” Sally hesitated, “...Jack made some plans for us today, I believe. Although I don’t know exactly where he’s taking me..”

The Doctor made a noise through his nose, “-fooling around with that boyfriend of yours again, I should have guessed.” 

“Ohh, leave her alone, Finky. I think it’s sweet.” Jewel smiled at her and nodded kindly. “Have a horrible time, Sally. We’ll see you later then.” 

“Just don’t be out too late.”

She nodded, thanked them, and was on her way. 

Needless to say, Sally had been pretty ecstatic when she received a phone call from her lover earlier that morning. He informed her that he cleared his schedule so the two of them could spend the day together, and she agreed to meet him in town by the fountain, right before lunch time. At first, Sally was worried this was some important date she was forgetting. But it wasn’t. He explained that he just wanted to see her again, and that this was something he wanted to plan for a bit now. She figured he must have been missing her- Jack was like that sometimes.

When Sally arrived in town, it was about as busy as it normally is. Creatures and monsters of all kinds were hurrying around, continuing out their day. She gazed up at the pumpkin sun, smiling as the warm light washed over her face. A murder of crows could be heard in the distance, squawking about. Sally could already tell she was going to have a horrific time this afternoon, and she couldn’t wait to see her beloved skeleton again. 

The fountain was within her view now. And so was Jack.

The Pumpkin King was standing just where he said he’d be. His back was facing Sally, and he had one hand on his hip. He waved to people as they passed him, mumbling a few greetings here and there too. Her heartbeat quickened at the sight. Smiling wider, she sped up her pace and approached him. He jolted slightly and whipped around to face her as she grabbed his hand with zero hesitation. 

“Jack-”

“Sally! There you are!” He placed an arm around her to pull her into a hug, “I’ve been waiting, I’m so glad you’re here.” 

She blushed a tiny bit and hugged him back, “...Glad to be here as well, very horrible to see you again, Jack.” 

“Yes, I missed you dearly..” 

She laughed, “It’s only been a few days..” 

“Still..” He chuckled lightly and let go of her. “Alright, Sal… thank you for agreeing to come with me today. I have.. Quite a bit planned, I’m sure it will be the most dreadful experience.”

“I can’t wait..” Sally brushed a piece of hair away from her cheek. “Where are we headed to first, darling?” 

“I was thinking… lunch.” He took her by the hand, “if you want to… I thought, a picnic by the lake would be nice?”

“Ohh, that sounds marvelous..” she squeezed his hand in return, “I’m quite hungry, actually. I’d love that.”

“Fantastic. I was hoping you’d say so… I kind of..  set it up already.” 

Sally laughed, “thinking ahead.. I like that.”

“Shall we be off then?” 

“We Shall.” 

—

By now, Sally was used to the stares she would get whenever her and Jack were seen around town together. It had, after all, only been a few weeks since the two of them started dating. After the pumpkin king had gone so long being a single man, it was odd to see him… well, not single. 

But Sally didn’t mind the curious looks. If anything, it only fueled her. She was proud to be the one to have won his heart. Hard for her to believe sometimes, yes, but it was true. She squeezed his hand tighter, sighing contently. 

The two of them spoke briefly on their stroll towards the lake. Sally asked how Zero was doing, and Jack was curious to know if she was working on any new projects. But for the most part, they just wanted to enjoy each other's company. And it only seemed moments before the lake came into view in the distance. 

Jack was speaking truthfully when he said he’d already set everything up. Sally could see there was a rather large, dark blanket lying on the ground in typical picnic-like fashion. Sitting on top of it was a basket, with a couple small plates and napkins stacked next to it. Dark, rich red roses were scattered around the edges. It was a very pretty set up- very romantic. 

“Ohh… this is lovely..” Sally spoke as they approached.

“...You think so?”

“Of course,” the two of them strolled forward and came to sit on opposite sides of the blanket. Jack looked pleased as he reached for the basket. “...What did you bring?”

“Well, I made us some sandwiches,” he answered, “-one has worms, and the other, beetles. I was going to let you pick.” 

He placed down two plates and reached into the basket. Pulling out the sandwiches he spoke of, he placed those down on the plates. Then continued looking through the basket. “I brought some other things too, of course… a bag of spider legs,- oh! And here.” He pulled two tea cups out of the basket as well. Sally watched as he filled them with what she could only assume to be tea, out of an unlabeled bottle. She smiled.

“Oh, this is all so wonderful, Jack. I’ve never been on a picnic like this before. Thank you..”

“It’s my pleasure, my goal is for you to have the most horrific time today.”

“Mm..” Sally leaned back to rest on her hand, folding her legs. She couldn’t help but think.. something seemed off about her boyfriend. What with the way kept mentioning he wanted her to have a ‘horrific day’, and all. She knew he had good intentions, but she couldn't shake the feeling there was more to this he wasn’t telling her. Almost like there was something on his mind. 

“Which sandwich would you prefer, Sal?” She looked up suddenly. 

“What? Oh, um..” she thought for a second, adjusting her dress as she was snapped from her thoughts, “..I don’t mind. I guess, worms would be good.” 

She nodded her thanks as Jack leaned over and handed the sandwich to her. It did look really good- she’d nearly forgotten how hungry she was. Taking her first bite was just as satisfying. 

“So,” Jack spoke, deciding to strike up a conversation, “How was your morning?” 

“Just fine, thank you. I was very glad to receive your phone call. How was yours?” 

“Pretty uneventful” he paused to sip his tea, “..most of my time was spent trying to convince the mayor that taking one day off isn’t going to ruin our plans for the rest of the year.” They both chuckled. 

“He’s quite dramatic, isn’t he?” 

“That he is. He means well, though.” 

They both fell silent. Sally studied Jack’s face as she crunched onto a spider leg, trying to read his expression. His eye sockets shifted over to hers suddenly and she blinked, slightly embarrassed to have been caught staring but didn’t look away. 

“Sally?” 

“Yes?”

“..this is a bit of a random question, but” he put his cup down, “..do you ever think about… your future?”

“My future..?”

“Yes. You know, like..” he leaned back a bit and thought for a moment, “...like, where you’d see yourself. Or how you’d want things to be.” 

“Hmm…” Sally pondered this question, “..well, yes, I suppose I do..” 

“Really?” he looked intrigued, “..and what sort of things do you think about? If you don’t mind me asking..” 

“Well… oh, I don’t know..”, she put her sandwich down to reach for her own tea, “Just..the normal things, I suppose. I think I’d like to...get married someday…” she broke eye contact and stared down at the orange liquid in her cup. “...and maybe.. have a family… you know?” 

“A family…” Jack paused, “you mean, like… children?” 

The ragdoll felt her face warm. “...yeah.” 

Once again they both went quiet. Sally wondered if maybe she said the wrong thing. But that’s a perfectly normal thing to want, right? Surely.. 

“-That sounds lovely, Sal.” She looked up suddenly as Jack spoke. His posture was relaxed and his expression looked understanding. “..I guess it’s just a matter of seeing where things go, then.”

“I suppose so..” She tilted her head at him, becoming sort of curious, “-why do you ask about this, Jack?” 

“What? Oh, well… I don’t know..” He glanced away for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I guess I’ve just… been thinking about it quite a bit myself, lately.”

“Really?” Sally put her cup down, “And what sorts of things do you think about?”

He hesitated, his gaze shifted downward. “...about the same as you, I guess..” 

“I see…”

After a moment Jack looked back up. It was then that he decided to change the subject entirely.

“-How are you enjoying the food?”

“Oh, this is delicious, thank you.”

“I’m glad you think so, let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

“Of course.” 

Jack and Sally spent the next hour or so chatting away as they finished up their picnic. It was very nice to be spending quality alone time together like this again. They both found themselves enjoying it immensely. 

Sally didn’t try to think about or pry anymore into what Jack might have on his mind. If there was something he wanted to talk about, Sally figured he’d say something. Otherwise, she wanted to be respectful and leave it be. So she tucked away her suspicions in the back of her mind instead, and decided to carry on with whatever Jack had planned. 

Once they finished eating and everything, Sally thanked him yet again for bringing her out there. With such a fine view of the lake, it made for the most lovely date. They packed everything up and headed back to Jack’s house where he ran inside to put his stuff away. Sally was able to say Hi to Zero, and the two met back outside by Jack’s gate. Sally squeezed his hand. 

“What did you have planned next, dearest?” 

“Something simple,” He squeezed her hand back, “I was thinking we could take a walk? It is such a terrible day afterall. Through the Hinterlands maybe? What do you think?” 

“Oh, I’d love that,” Sally smiled happily as they started forward, “-and after all that sitting too, my legs really need stretching.” 

Jack chuckled, “Sounds like a plan then.” And started them on the path towards the Hinterlands. 

By the time they got there, the pumpkin sun was high in the sky. Its orange light swept over everything, gracefully as the bat flies. It truly was a terrible day, the perfect weather to take a walk. Sally was practically beaming as they started down the trail. She gazed up at the swirling trees all around them, wondering just how tall they were. Leaves and sticks snapped and cracked under their shoes as they strolled along. 

“This is so peaceful, Jack… it’s just what I wanted..” 

“I’m glad to hear you say that. Have you ever visited the Hinterlands?” 

“Not like this..” She shook her head, “I’ve come to the edge of it to collect herbs before… but I've never walked around or through it.” 

“Ah, I see. You’re in for a treat then, It's a gorgeous place.”

“I can see that... '' Sally gazed around, wide eyed. “..this is where you discovered the holiday doors, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, indeed. It’s a pretty far walk though, so we don’t have to go there today. Maybe another time though, I’d love for you to visit Christmas Town.” 

She chuckled, “You really think Sandy Claws would let you over there? After everything?” 

“Hey, now, he and I are on good terms now.” He laughed a bit as well, “Besides, if it’s just for a visit I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. It’s not like I'd be going there to steal anything… again.” 

“Fair point.” 

They continued on, making small conversation but mostly enjoying each other’s company and the view of the trees around them. 

As they walked Sally briefly let go of Jack’s hand to adjust hair that had blown into her face by the sleight breeze that drifted through them as they walked. She couldn’t help but notice the sticks scattered on the ground, some of them bigger than the others. She wondered if maybe a recent storm had knocked them down. 

As she turned to ask her boyfriend a question, she neglected to see a particularly large branch on the ground a few paces ahead of her. Unfortunately, in just the wrong spot. 

“Jack, why does- !” She gasped as she suddenly tripped, her foot caught on the jaggedy surface. Jack tried to reach out and catch her, but because he didn’t have her hand, he missed. Sally went tumbling down with an ‘oof’. 

“Sally!” Jack's voice was edged with panic as he shouted for her. He crouched down to her level trying to help her up right away, “Are you alright?!” 

The ragdoll lifted herself up onto her elbows, turning to face Jack and taking his hand. “Eugh...y-yeah… I’m okay..” Her face and chest were covered in dirt from the impact. Jack helped her sit up a little bit more, and only then noticed the rest of the damage. 

“Darling, your leg..!” 

Sally looked down, surely enough, her leg had become detached at the knee. The thread was completely broken, and leaves were spilling out everywhere. She could feel her left arm was a bit loose as well. 

She brushed the dirt from her cloth skin as she tried to reassure her now worried boyfriend. “Jack, I’m fine, really. I didn’t get hurt-”

“But your leg-”

“Is fine! I brought my spool and needle with me, we just need to reattach it, that's all.”

“It really doesn’t… hurt?” 

“Not at all.” 

Jack sighed, still on edge but very relieved that she was okay. Sally flipped around so that she was sitting up straight, and reached into her pocket.

“...That was some fall, what happened?” He asked. 

“I think I.. tripped on something..” She pulled out her spool of thread and reached behind her ear for the needle. Then motioned toward her detached leg. Jack took the hint and grabbed it, pushing it up towards her. Then he paused. 

“May I… help you? If it’s alright?” 

“Help me?” 

“Yes,” he pointed to her limb, “I’d like to try… sewing you.” 

He’ll admit, that sounded like an odd request outloud. But Sally didn’t seem to mind. She thought for a moment, then handed him the respected tools. 

“Yes, alright. Go ahead.” She decided to take this moment to tighten up the stitches on her arm instead. While she did that, Jack got busy with her leg. 

He threaded the needle first then stuffed all her leaves back inside. Then did his best to line it up with her knee. After some reassurance, he hesitated, then pushed the thread through until it broke the skin. With that, he began to sew her up. 

Jack couldn’t help but take note of the other details across her leg that he had never noticed. The way her stitches made such a cute, intricate pattern. He also noticed how smooth, and quite soft her skin was, something he’d never thought about considering he had never done this before. He found himself staring at her legs and, slightly ashamed of himself, opted to look up instead while his hands continued to work. 

He noticed Sally tugging at the seams across the middle of her arm, presumably tightening them. They must have come loose in the fall as well. 

Finally finished, he tied a small knot and snapped the end off. He briefly gazed over his work- it seemed to be pretty good, but Sally would have to be the judge of that. 

“What do you think?” he asked, “Tight enough?” 

He sat back while the ragdoll stretched out her leg, bent it, then brushed her fingers neatly over the seams. 

“-It’s perfect, Jack, thank you. You did wonderfully.” 

“Not a problem at all” The skeleton stood up, and offered his hand to her. She took it, stood, and walked a few paces just to be sure. Jack rejoined her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, chuckling lightly. “This time, I’m going to make sure you’re safe. You won’t be falling again.” 

Sally giggled, “My hero..” And wrapped an arm around him in return before they both continued on their walk, happy, ready for their date to resume right where they left off. 

—

Sally was ecstatic to be spending the rest of the day with her beloved. Jack wasn’t kidding when he said he had a lot of stuff planned. After their walk through the Hinterlands, They decided to head back to Jack’s place to spend some time there. Jack had some books he wanted to show her, then they watched a movie together. Snuggling on the couch- that was most enjoyable. 

By this time, the afternoon was finally turning into the evening. They hit a couple different places before Jack took Sally to their favorite restaurant for dinner. He paid for all their food, and even bought Sally a very delicious dessert- a Melting Blood cake. Which they shared, and were barely able to finish. 

Once they were done eating, the sun was just about starting to go down. Jack informed her that he had one more thing on their to-do list for tonight, and he suggested they watch the sunset from the top of spiral hill. 

Sally was more than happy to oblige, that sounded like quite the wonderful idea to her. Like the perfect way to end what had been the most perfect day. 

 The ragdoll followed him to the top of the hill, reaching out to grab his hand when they got there. They turned, faced towards the sun setting across town. It edged slowly, washing its golden light over the buildings as it did. Sally sighed contently. Here she was, holding her lover's hand, watching the sunset from the place they’d shared their first kiss. Oh, how could things get any better? 

“…Sally?”

She glanced up as Jack spoke her name, very softly. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you happy?”

Sally blinked, slightly surprised at the question. “Oh, yes, Jack. I’m very happy, more than I’ve ever been before.”

“…and your day today. Just as horrific as I said it would be?” 

“Even more.. you’ve done so much for me. I’d..I’d almost say you’re treating me like a queen.” 

The sentence rolled off Sally’s tongue before she could really think about it. Not that she was wrong- he was in fact treating her extra special that day. One could wonder.. why?

She blushed a bit and looked up at him, waiting for a reply. For a moment, his expression was blank. Before his sockets went half lidded and he smiled. 

“Funny… that you would say that.” 

“Oh..?” her heartbeat quickened a tiny bit. Surely not..

“Yeah..” he turned towards her suddenly and cupped both of her hands inside his own. “Sally… I need to ask you something.”

“W…what is it..?” She trembled slightly, having a feeling what might come next but finding it hard to believe. He continued. 

“I know we… haven’t been together for very long. But.. these past couple weeks that I’ve had you by my side, have surely been some of the best. And I know, from the bottom of my heart, that I don’t want anyone else by my side. And I never will want anyone else by my side.” 

Her heart rate quickened yet again, eyes swelling up with tears this time. 

“J…J-Jack..”

“-I know that… every part of me loves you, so very dearly. And I want you by my side forever.” 

He got down on one knee. 

Sally clasped a hand over her mouth as her tears began to fall. She sobbed lightly, her heart overflowed as she could hardly believe this was real. She tried one more time to say his name, but it came out cracked and broken amidst her cries. Jack almost looked ready to cry himself, as he squeezed her hands one final time.

“Sally Finkelstein…. My dearest friend… and most beloved angel of my nightmares…” 

He leaned forward.

“…Will you marry me?” 

…

…

….

“….YES!” 

Sally burst into tears and sprang forward, barely leaving Jack anytime to get back to his feet and catch her. They wrapped their arms around each other tightly. Neither wanting to let go nor planning on it.  Jack could feel her crying into his suit, not that he minded at all. He went to give her a kiss on the cheek before she lifted her head very suddenly to catch his lips. Jack melted into the kiss and they held each other, staying there for several moments. Neither of them needed air anyway. 

Finally they separated and Jack cupped Sally’s face, moving close so their foreheads were touching. Tears were still spilling out from her eyes, and a large smile was plastered across her face. She attempted to get words out, only partially succeeding. 

“J-Jack….I-I…I can’t believe… you…and-and me…” 

“Shhh,” he hushed her calmly. “Take a deep breath, my love. It’s alright.” 

Sally did as he suggested and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. That seemed to do the trick. 

“Jack…” she choked out, wiping her eyes, “I love you..”

“I love you too…I really, really do.”

“D-Did you have this planned… all day..?” 

“Of course I did. I needed it… to be special, you know?” He held her close and chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry, I don’t.. have the ring yet. It’s currently being made- but once I heard, I ah, got so I excited… I just had to ask-“

“N-No, it’s okay, Jack. It’s okay. I’m glad you asked… oh.. you’ve made me so, so happy.”

“And you’ve made me happy, Sally..” 

She nuzzled into him more, holding him tighter. 

“So… this means, I-I can, move in with you?”

“If that’s what you’d like”

“Yes…yes” more tears fell, “oh, Jack, I love you so much.” 

“I-I love you too, Sal..” he wiped his own socket, realizing he’d become a bit choked up himself. “…we’re not.. moving too fast, are we?”

“Oh, oh no…” she reassured him, “believe me, Jack, there’s nobody I’d rather be with either. I love you, okay? With all of my heart.”

“So you said… I feel the exact same.”

The sun had gone completely down by now. The moon gradually rose above them, and the graveyard swallowed in the darkness. The atmosphere couldn’t be more perfect. Jack and Sally collapsed into kisses on top the hill, all they really wanted was to be by, and with each other right now. 

Right now.

And tomorrow.

And forever.

[chatonne-rousse]

Orange You Glad I'm Not Seeing Green (Nope, Totally Not Jealous At All)

A continuation of my Gifts from the Heart series, the whole of which is written as a gift for my dear friend @sketchy-panda.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Follows Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike, which can be found here.

*********

The first forty-two minutes had gone so well.

Marinette was acting weird, but a normal, endearing weird - the kind of weird that warms his chest with affection and makes him smile. There is no one quite like her, and Adrien knows her friendship is a sweet blessing indeed. Even if it takes a moment or two to decipher her jumbled sentences sometimes. Even if she's a teeny tiny bit of a disaster.

When Ms. Bustier had paired them up for a literature project, he was thrilled. Adrien would never scoff at the chance to spend time with his dear friend, much less to enjoy a window of escape, however short, from the echoing silence of his own home. He'd turned to her with unabashed excitement to find her cheeks and ears pink and a strange mix of joy and terror in her eyes.

"Yay!" she'd squeaked, the word accompanied by awkward jazz hands. This had prompted a nudge under the table from Alya that didn't escape his notice. With that, she'd taken a deep breath, set her shoulders, and asked if he'd like to come over after school to work on it together.

Would he ever! The wave of happiness that had risen in his chest must have shown on his face, but when Marinette's smile had softened to match, he realized he didn't care if he grinned like a fool in front of the class. An afternoon with a friend - a friend! - was such a rare treat. And he's already read The Three Musketeers, so he'd been sure this would be a breeze.

And it was. Until six minutes ago, when they realized that the plate of cookies they'd been snacking on had dwindled to one. This discovery came by way of both of them reaching for it without looking, hands meeting over the plate amidst blushing cheeks and murmured apologies. With an awkward laugh, he'd taken the final cookie, carefully broken it roughly in half, and offered the slightly larger piece to his wide-eyed project partner.

Their fingers brushed in the handoff. She breathed a thank you. He smiled graciously.

It all happened so quickly after that.

Before he could take a bite of his cookie, her elbow had knocked into her glass, sending orange juice across her desk, her lap, his stocking feet.

"Disaster!" Marinette had shrieked, prompting Mrs. Cheng to peek through the open trap door a few moments later, looking first at her daughter dancing frantically around her now-toppled desk chair and then to a bewildered Adrien, still holding half a cookie in one hand and Marinette's keyboard, rescued from the rogue wave of orange juice, in the other.

She'd just smiled. "I'll bring up some towels, dears."

Adrien could only nod.

Now, Marinette stands in front of her sink, wiping the front of her pants with a damp towel and sighing every thirty seconds. He's barefoot, his socks whisked off to parts unknown, ostensibly to be laundered, though he'd protested that wasn't necessary. Their cookie and juice supply has been refilled, and calm has settled over the room again. Sort of.

"I'm so sorry, Adrien," she says quietly, a tinge of misery at the edge of her voice. "I'm so clumsy."

He tries to make her smile the best way he knows how. "It's okay, Marinette. Orange you glad it didn't get on your drawings for the project?"

She stops trying to clean off her jeans and raises her eyes to his. "Did you just...?"

His eyes gleam. "You know, workers in the orange juice factory will lose their jobs if they can't concentrate."

Her surprised giggle is incredibly gratifying. He takes it as a green light to continue. "Do you know what language oranges use to talk to each other?" When she shakes her head, he gleefully answers, "Mandarin!"

"You'd fit right in, then!" Marinette laughs heartily, the sound making his grin widen until it hurts. (It's worth it.)

"Well, I am very a-peeling. I have a real zest for life."

She groans, though she's still laughing, and facepalms with the hand holding the towel. Adrien watches as she realizes how sticky it is against her face, throws it on the counter, and blushes when she makes eye contact with him once more. His own smile never dims. Making a friend laugh like this is one of life's great joys. Laughing with a friend like this is one of the greatest.

Finally, she washes her hands at the sink and he takes a moment to right her desk chair, gazing around the room to the sound of her drying her hands. Magazine photos of him still remain, though they mix on corkboards and wall collages with pictures of friends and family. His own face smiles - truly smiles - back at him from several of them. He remembers each of these days, shining memories with beloved friends that he treasures. He's glad Marinette treasures them, too.

His gaze slides to the corner of her desk, near her sewing machine and a large box he assumes is full of sewing notions, and his breath catches. There, on twin display stands to keep them upright, are two figurines he doesn't know how he missed earlier. Ladybug holds her yo-yo in her right hand, Chat Noir's baton is held in his left. Their tiny plastic hands clasp in the middle, just as they were molded to do for the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition figures he would know anywhere.

Marinette sits back down in her desk chair, looks at him, then follows his gaze to the figurines. Adrien turns his eyes to her.

"I didn't know you were a superhero fan, Marinette!"

She laughs a nervous laugh as a blush rises to her cheeks. "Me? A fan of Chat Noir? Psssh." She waves a hand as if to dismiss the idea.

He isn't sure if he should be offended or gratified. He'd certainly prefer the latter.

"Why wouldn't you be a fan? I am. I think the heroes are awesome."

"You do?" she breathes, eyes wide.

"Of course! Paris is lucky," he elbows her arm gently and winks, "to have them."

Her giggle makes him smile again. He always feels so light and so carefree here, in her warm home, with her friendly parents and a plate of cookies and the sweetness she seems to radiate in his presence. Paris is lucky to have superhero protectors, but he's lucky in his own way to have found this kind of gentle contentment in a world denied to him for so long.

"I guess we should get back to the project--"

"Where did you get them?"

They each speak at the same time, twin blushes and stammered apologies following just as with the cookie incident.

Marinette breaks the ensuing awkward silence first. "One of my best friends gave them to me."

"I'm not surprised," Adrien responds with a grin. "Alya might be the biggest fan in Paris!"

The blush on her cheeks spreads to the tips of her ears and her eyes widen before she blinks. "Oh, um...it wasn't Alya." Marinette looks at her hands in her lap and then back up to him. "But she does have this set. She's kind of obsessed."

Strange, he'd never heard about any other best friends from Nino or Alya, though that didn't mean Marinette didn't have a very close online friend or someone in the design community she just hadn't talked much about before. He hopes this person knows what a good friend she has in Marinette, that she treasures her like Marinette deserves to be treasured. Though of course she'd gifted her with the set of figurines, so this friend at least knows quality merch when she sees it. Adrien's heart warms at the thought of Marinette having such good friends. She deserves nothing less.

"Adrien? Are you okay?"

He blinks twice, shaking himself from his reverie. "Oh. Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You were far away for a minute there."

He smiles warmly. Marinette is so thoughtful. "I promise. I was just thinking what a great best friend she must be to have given you such a cool gift."

"Oh," she says quietly, looking at the figures again, though Adrien is still focused on his friend. He watches as her eyes soften and her smile turns gentle before she speaks again. "He definitely is. There's no one better."

Her gaze snaps to his again. "I mean! I'll bet you're better! At being hot. I mean cool! I mean..." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "So! The Three Musketeers, eh?" She pulls her notebook back in front of her and opens it to a random page that contains nothing having to do with Alexandre Dumas. She laughs nervously, resolutely staring at the page and not the boy beside her.

The boy who hasn't breathed since her quiet "oh." The boy whose brain is still stuck on one word.

He.

Adrien can feel his smile turn brittle at the edges and forces his face to remain neutral, but it's difficult all of a sudden.

It shouldn't bother him. It shouldn't affect him at all. Marinette is friends with Nino, Kim, and Max, and he doesn't think twice about it. Why should he? This is different, though, somehow. An unknown entity. A boy friend he's never heard of who makes her expression soften like that, with memories of private jokes and gift exchanges and laughter. Probably. That's probably what it's like with Marinette and her other best friend, who isn't Alya and whose name he doesn't know.

An odd feeling twists his stomach. Adrien doesn't like it.

"Well," he starts, sliding his own notebook over and opening to the last page they'd been working on before the orange juice spill, "he has very good taste in Ladybug and Chat Noir merchandise. I have that same set myself."

"You do?" she squeaks, and their eyes meet again.

"I do. But I didn't take mine out of the packaging." He chances a cheeky half-smile at her, the knot in his stomach loosening just a fraction at the smile she returns. "Mine will be pristine when the set is worth millions someday."

When she laughs, the tension in his chest dissipates like springtime dandelion seeds, floating away on a sudden breeze of fresh, sweet joy.

Maybe Marinette's mysterious best friend can make her laugh like this, but right now, Adrien is the one sitting beside her - something rare and precious and not to be taken for granted - and it makes no sense to do anything other than enjoy the moment.

[bugaboo-and-kittynoir]

Quite the Taste in Boys (Miraculous One-Shot)

Edit: This is now on AO3, link here.

(Warning) TIMELINE: This one-shot takes place directly after Gang of Secrets (S4E3). Do not read if you haven't seen the episode or if you don't want to spoil it!

Summary: A conversation between Marinette and Alya after Marinette reveals her secret. Alya asks Marinette one of her most burning questions; how does Marinette feel about Chat Noir?

Words: 871

Chapters: 1/1

Title: Quite the Taste in Boys

Content: miraculous one-shot, post-alya reveal, alyanette, ladynoir vs. adrienette, love square flip, chat noir vs. adrien agreste

—

“You have to tell me what’s up with you and Chat Noir!” said Alya.

“What do you mean?” said Marinette. The two of them sat beside each other in Marinette’s bedroom. Alya had about a million questions to her since Marinette confessed that she was Ladybug.

“You’ve kissed him, twice!” said Alya, pulling up her phone to look for her Ladyblog pages on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s relationship. She found two pictures of them—and in both, they were unmistakably kissing, right on the lips. “I didn’t even know you had your first kiss!”

“I know, I’m sorry. But it’s not like I could tell you!” said Marinette. She frowned. “I really wanted to.”

“I know you did,” said Alya, patting Marinette on the back.

A brief silence passed between them until Alya got the courage to ask the big question.

“Do you like him?” Alya asked. For a second, Marinette’s eyes widened in shock. She was not used to talking about Chat, ever. Not even with Tikki.

The first thing she thought of was his jokes; how they made her laugh. Or the way he laughed and smirked when she joked back with him. She thought of how selfless he was; much more heroic than her, she thought. He was always willing to step up and make a sacrifice when it was necessary, and even though she hated that quality so much, she knew his intentions were pure. Not to mention his brilliant green eyes, brought out by black leather...

No, Marinette thought. She thought she would die if Chat could read her thoughts right now. Everything he ever said would be right; that she would fall for him someday, and that he was just waiting for her to find him. There was no way he could be right, her stubborn mind told her.

“Pfffft, me, like him? No way. He’s my partner!” Marinette scoffed. And she wouldn’t trade him for the world. But that’s all he was—her partner.

No, not anything else.

He would be over the moon with satisfaction if he knew how often he crossed her mind.

Alya folded her arms. “I thought you were supposed to be opening up.”

“I like Adrien,” said Marinette, almost like it was a default answer. It was the first time Alya had heard her say that outright in a long time.

Marinette felt immediately guilty for thinking of Chat. What about Adrien? She loved him, she knew that for sure.

“I know, but that’s not what I asked,” said Alya.

Marinette paused and thought for a second. She hated that she knew her answer, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “I like Adrien,” she said instead.

As she said it, images of Adrien flooded her head, too, just how Chat occupied her mind just moments ago. How could she sit there and think about them both? It was hard not to hate herself for it. Just because she had a superhero alter ego doesn’t mean she was two people with two hearts to give.

Adrien was the most genuine person she knew. He was so kind but still so funny, and such a good friend, even though his life made it so difficult for him to be. There was some type of unbreakable bond between them, one Marinette could never understand. It all started from a piece of chewing gum on a seat and an umbrella. His humility to apologize to her. He was so easy to talk to. Charming to no end. She didn’t have to question it; she loved Adrien Agreste, that she knew.

“I know how conflicted you must be, and that’s okay! The heart wants what it wants, even if your brain can’t quite figure it out yet.”

Boy, was that the truth. Chat Noir walked, or more like strutted, back into her thoughts then, but instead of pushing Adrien out of the way, the two of them stood side by side, staring at her, waiting for her to admit the truth, stop all of the lies, and finally give up her last secret.

Alya saw Marinette’s cheeks redden. “It’s okay to like both you know! Or to not like Adrien anymore, or to not like Chat. But I can see, when you two are together—”

“Okay fine,” said Marinette, conceding to Alya’s advice and the two boys in her mind looking into her very soul. Marinette's volume dropped drastically. Maybe if she whispered, it wouldn’t make it so real, she thought. “Maybe I like him a little bit.”

Alya displayed a satisfied smirk. “I knew it!”

“Shut up!” Marinette groaned, planting her head into a pillow.

Alya laughed heartily. “You’ve got quite the taste in boys, Marinette.”

Marinette briefly turned an eye up from the pillow and towards Alya. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean!? Marinette, you love a supermodel and a superhero!” Alya said, still chuckling.

“I don’t love—” Marinette paused.

She couldn’t lie anymore. Not even to herself. She was all out of effort. It was time.

Adrien Agreste.

Chat Noir.

God, when did this happen!?

Alya smiled sweetly, seeing her friend finally break down that last wall.

“I love them, Alya. Both of them.”

[shedreamsofstars]

our union is a secret i’m hoping, dreaming, lying to keep - chapter nine

you’ve all heard of ‘pretending to be married when you’re not’, now get ready for ‘actually married but pretending you’re not’

When Tohru and Kyo accidentally find themselves married, they must keep their new union a secret from their friends and family. That’s easier said than done when you’re both newlywed dorks who just want to spend some quality time with one another whilst said friends and family are always one step away from discovering the truth.

start from the beginning | previous chapter | next chapter (coming soon!)

Kyo watched with quiet contentment as the landscape beyond the train windows shifted from open country fields and rolling hills to flat crop fields and back, waiting for the more industrialised and sharper sights of the city to mark their arrival in Tokyo.

He leaned his head against the headrest of the train seat, a hand casually twined with his wife’s fingers as she talked on the phone. Her own head was pressed firmly against his chest, every word she uttered sending gentle vibrations rumbling through him.

“Oh … I see.”

Kyo frowned at her change in tone, glancing down at the top of her head. He squeezed her fingers lightly to get her attention and she looked up to flash him a small smile. It was likely meant to ease his concern, but it was far too strained to do anything but the opposite.

He shifted in his seat, forcing Tohru to sit up beside him, phone still pressed to her ear. “No, no Grandpa, that’s okay, really. I completely understand,” Tohru said in her typical cheerful tone before falling quiet for a moment, a distinct sorrow tugging at the smile she forced onto her face.

“Okay, take care of yourself. I’ll call you again soon.” Tohru nodded slowly at the conversation on the other side before pulling the phone from her ear and ending the call.

“That doesn’t sound like good news.”

Tohru pressed her lips into a thin hard line. Kyo leaned in towards her, forcing her to look up at him. He barely had time to register the soft sigh she whispered into the space between them before she slumped in his direction, landing carelessly against his chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and gently stroking her back. “I’ve got you. What’s wrong?”

“Grandpa can’t see us today. He’s really busy with some appointment,” she said after a long silence. “He said he’s fine and not to worry but … I really wanted to see him today.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Kyo soothed, letting his chin drop onto her head. Tohru was almost faultlessly happy, so to see her upset made him want to do whatever it took to cheer her up. “We’re here for a few days, maybe we can try and find some other time he’s free?” he offered, hoping it might be enough to boost her mood.

“Hmm,” Tohru replied noncommittally, curling in closer to him as if he were shielding her from the hurt. She had been looking forward to seeing her grandpa, and though she wasn’t saying anything right now, he knew it was only because she was still trying to figure out what she was feeling.

Kyo didn’t push her on it, knowing she’d talk in her own time. He pressed a reassuring kiss to her temple and left it at that, deciding to distract her thoughts with other things in the meantime.

He let the quiet silence that fell around them heal her disappointment, holding her close as the train rolled closer and closer to the city. They’d be arriving at their station soon, so if he wanted to cheer her up, he was going to have to think of something quickly.

“You know, instead of heading straight over to Master’s place, we could just wander around and sightsee for a while. You want me to check if Hanajima and Uotani are free this morning?” he asked.

He wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of meeting the two of them the moment they set foot in Tokyo, but Tohru had already been disappointed once this morning. He could suffer their presence for her sake.

Tohru lifted her head to look up at him, her hair falling into her eyes that brightened at just the mention of her two best friends. “That would be really nice,” she said, a small smile blooming on her lips.

“Alright.” Kyo brushed the hair out of her face with his fingers, stealing a quick kiss. “I’ll call them.

“So, Tohru,” Arisa said casually, leaning against a tree and stretching her arms above her head. “How’s living with that hot head going?”

Tohru and Hana sat at the base of the tree, shielding their eyes from the sunlight that filtered through the canopy of leaves above as they glanced up at her. The three of them had paused their stroll around the park to rest, and Kyo had wandered off to find refreshments.

“It really is wonderful,” Tohru admitted, her cheeks flushing involuntarily as a myriad of thoughts about her husband ran through her mind. He’d only been gone a little while, but already she missed his presence and found herself glancing around to see if he had returned yet.

“Look at that beautiful glow,” Hana said, pinching her cheeks playfully. “He might not be us Arisa, but it seems he’s at least figured out how to keep Tohru happy.”

“Oh, I’ll bet he has,” Arisa said, chuckling as Tohru’s face burned so hot she wondered if she’d start melting. “So, any idea of when he’ll propose?”

Tohru’s heart dropped to her stomach. “What?” she stammered out.

“Well, despite his many many flaws, he does seem prim and proper. You know, the type that wouldn’t keep a lady waiting. In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t done it already.”

The back of Tohru’s neck broke out in a cold sweat and she giggled nervously, hoping that Kyo would come back and help her before she blew their cover.

Unfortunately, he was still nowhere in sight but luck took physical form in Hanajima, who broke through Tohru’s strained silence with her own observations.

“Tohru has always wanted to get married someday. There is no chance that Kyo would risk losing her by holding off. He’s as loyal as a cat that one, so I don’t think we have any need to worry in that department.”

“Hana, I think the phrase is loyal as a dog, not cat,” Arisa corrected.

“Oh is it,” Hana replied, gazing wistfully off into the distance as if the mix up didn’t bother her at all. “I’m not sure I see the difference.”

Not for the first or last time, Tohru found herself wondering just how much the dark-haired girl knew about the Sohma’s history.

“Well … as much as I could watch Kyon suffer, I can’t stand to see you being hurt Tohru,” Arisa said, leaning down and running a comforting hand through Tohru’s locks. “You know, we can talk to him and set him straight if-”

Tohru never got the chance to hear the rest of Arisa’s words as she straightened up at the sound of her name being yelled across the park. Tohru followed the sound to see Kyo heading down the path, four ice cream cones balanced precariously in his two hands.

“Come give me a hand before I drop all of these you damn Yankee!” he called out, struggling to keep the cones upright as he slowly made his way over.

“Who’re you calling Yankee, you damned idiot!” she fumed back, and Tohru wondered if she was more angry at being called a delinquent or the fact that Kyo had interrupted her midsentence.

“Do you want to eat ice cream off the floor? Cause that’s what’ll happen if you don’t take some of these off of me!” Kyo responded, grimacing as some passers-by stared at him for causing a commotion. Arisa rolled her eyes before slowly and reluctantly heading over to help him out, taking both her own and Hanajima’s cones off of him.

“Thank you for going all the way,” Tohru said as Kyo dropped to the ground beside her, handing her the double scooped cone of vanilla ice cream, a tantalisingly warm stick of chocolate fudge sticking out of the top.

“Now that you’re here Kyon,” Arisa said, taking a large bite out of her ice cream as Kyo watched on in horror. “I got a question for you.”

“No!” Tohru squeaked in alarm, her hands flying up so fast that she almost dropped her cone. “Please don’t ask that,” she said, her face flitting between helpless and panicked as she realised where the conversation was headed.

“Something isn’t right,” the blonde girl said, glancing between Tohru and Kyo with a look of pure clarity and an odd gleam in her eye.

“I agree. The waves are in turmoil … but in a pleasantly insistent way. It’s very strange indeed,” Hanajima added, her gaze never leaving the sweet treat in her hands as she devoured it.

“It’s nothing … really,” Tohru said nervously as she glanced at Kyo for support, hoping he’d catch on to what was happening. “We just haven’t really discussed marriage and proposals and … any of that stuff really.”

There was a soft thud from beside her and both Hana and Arisa looked at the source with a curious surprise. Tohru followed their lead only to see Kyo lift his head up from the crook of his arm, looking as if he’d given in.

“No, it’s not nothing,” he grumbled, looking over apologetically at Tohru. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t make you lie to your friends about this.”

Tohru stared at him in shock. “But … what about Master?”

“He’ll find out later tonight, so I guess it doesn’t really matter if we tell them first.”

“Tell us what?” Arisa said suspiciously, a smile on her lips that seemed a little out of place considering the fact her tone was laced with concern.

“Uh,” Tohru stammered a little helplessly, biting her bottom lip as she considered where to begin. With a deep breath to centre herself and a reassuring glance from Kyo, she told her friends everything that had happened over the past week.

About how a simple visit to a festival had spiralled into so much more. Both Hanajima and Arisa listened quietly and patiently as she explained everything from the mistaken paperwork to the ritual and everything after.

“Wait,” Arisa said once she was done, trying her best to hold back a hearty chuckle. “So the two of you got married accidentally,” she said, beginning to cackle gleefully. “And you’ve been hiding it this whole time?”

“A normal person would usually say congratulations or something,” Kyo grumbled.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get there, but that’s gotta be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You two are such dorks!” she replied, wiping a tear of mirth from her eyes.

“An unpredictably bizarre turn of events, I’ll admit. Although it still doesn’t explain the strangeness I sense around you,” Hanajima said, locking onto Kyo with her sharp gaze. Tohru’s chest went tight as her husband shrank under her scrutiny.

“Okay, that’s enough Hanajima. Let the poor guy live. He can’t be a good husband to Tohru if he’s traumatised by your waves.”

“I suppose not,” she agreed, relenting her mental attack on the red head in favour of reaching for Tohru’s half eaten ice cream who handed it over without a second thought. “I shall send you both blessings on your marriage of absurdity,” she finished, mouth full of pilfered ice cream.

“Thank you,” Tohru replied, looking perkier and less nervous than before. She felt so much lighter and excited about everything now that she knew she could share it with her two best friends.

“Yeah, what she said. Congrats to you both,” Arisa said, leaning forward to thump Kyo on the shoulder. He made a small whine of pain, rubbing at his arm with a deep frown as she took a seat beside Hanajima. “Good job on locking her down,” she added a little more softly, looking as if the words hurt her soul a little.

“Thanks,” he replied to the tall blonde, reaching for Tohru’s hand, and pressing a casual kiss against her knuckles. “It means a lot to both of us.” Tohru wanted nothing more in that moment than to reach for him and press kisses all over his face for being so wonderful and doing his best to get along with her friends, but that would have to wait.

For now, she settled on holding tight to his hand as she caught up with the others and how their lives had been going. It was so delightful and nostalgic, that she almost didn’t notice how the time had flown by. Before she knew it, it was almost time for her and Kyo to meet with Kyo’s father. Hers now too, she realised as an afterthought.

“We should make a move if we want to get to Master’s in time. Tohru and I planned to get there a little earlier, just in case he needed any help in the kitchen since the guy can’t cook for anything,” Kyo explained, his face betraying how horrified he was at the thought of leaving his father in charge of dinner alone.

“I’m sorry to have to leave you both so soon,” Tohru admitted sadly.

“That’s okay. As wonderful company as one of you are, Hanajima and I really have to get going too,” Arisa said, glancing pointedly at Kyo who bristled in response. “Relax, we don’t hate you just yet,” she added with a smirk, noting his response.

“Oh yes, our appointment for this evening had almost slipped my mind. It would be best if we get going too,” Hanajima agreed, reaching to pull Tohru into a warm hug that reminded her of the types she’d get from her mother. Arisa ruffled her hair affectionately before heading off with a goodbye of her own.

“I’ll miss you,” Tohru said a little tearfully as the two girls disappeared down the path that led out of the park.

Once she and Kyo were alone, the first thing Tohru did was grab a hold of his jaw and pull him down for a hard kiss, her teeth skimming against his bottom lip as she pulled away.

Kyo was stunned, looking for all the world as if he had forgotten his own name let alone how to speak actual coherent sentences. “What … ?” he started helplessly, unable to find the words he needed to finish his thoughts.

“I wanted to show you how much I appreciate what you did for me today,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t really do anything,” Kyo protested as he rubbed at the back of his neck bashfully, but Tohru frowned lightly at him.

“I know how much you wanted Master to be the first person we told about our marriage,” she explained as she shifted her hand to press gently against his warm cheek.

“Your happiness is more important than something superficial like that. Besides, Uotani and Hanajima seemed to take the news well, so no I have hope that maybe Master will too.”

“Of course he will,” she reassured him, pulling him into another kiss, longer and softer than the last. “Master thinks the world of you Kyo, and I hope you see that someday.”

Kyo took a deep breath but said nothing more on the subject. “Ready to go?” he asked before a mischievous glint flickered in his eyes. “Or we could find somewhere a little more private for a while,” he murmured against her cheek.

As much as her skin heated at his words, she knew that neither of them were really serious about following through. Not when Master was at risk of burning the entire Dojo down without their supervision.

“I’m sure we can find somewhere,” she said, pressing a soft kiss against his nose as she reached for his hands. “But … not right now,” she smiled happily she began to run, dragging him along behind her with a burst of laughter.

… xxx …

um, lol, so i might have accidentally forgotten to post anything for the last five months ... sorry? this chapter probably wasn't worth the wait, but unfortunately it's all i have right now so i hope you at least tolerated it.

i hope you're all doing good though, especially since the final season of fruits basket is feeding us all that good kyoru content <3

[nobody-knose--archive]

i’ve been aching to commentate spirit phone’s commentary for ages. glad i finally got around to it, this was an ejoyable experience. liveblog below the cut

-i'm like half certain i've heard this commentary before. maybe not the whole way through & it was probably actual years ago

-nice hearing stuff like this. in-depth personal view of the album-making process. makes it seem like more of a real thing i could do myself someday

-neil cicierega real person momence

-i could probably go real in depth about neil cicierega/tally hall parallels specifically concerning like. the arc of their musical careers. but i won't, here

-wild how i legitimately don't care much about micheal jackson

-didnt we get a bunch of spirit phone stems from the needlejuice release/his patreon? we could probably hear the funny track he speaks of here in that

-i love hearing musical artists, especially neil cicierega, talking about the meanings of their songs. like, not only has this song been claimed to hell & back by the tumblr gays, but with later ones i just can't see where he gets these ideas from. also, claiming there's any one meaning or plot to a song just seems silly to me

-shoutout to neil reusing a midi from like, 1998, that he made at 12 years old, whose entire melody was reused for the main verses of everybody loves raymond. loved finding that out on my own 2 years ago. now it's common trivia in this fandom. not bad times

-it'd be neat if neil did individual trans tracks here like he did with view monstel, those things are half of why i consider it my favorite album

-it's a lot easier to ignore the creator's intended meaning behind a song when he can't even remember it. thanks neil

-seesaw effect

-and there's my joke all but 1 of my followers wont get. moving on

-what kinds of movie theater lobbies has neil been to where there are arcade machines. i mean im not one to talk but that does sound rather strange

-why do songs' titles even need to be taken from the lyrics. ive never seen that as any sort of requisite. it's like titling any form of prose you can just give it whatever name ya like

-"this part sounds pretty cool right"

-is neil's vocal range only mildly better than mine? with training i could change that

-oh i haven't processed any of the last 25 seconds hold on

-god. a shit ton of vocal modification in this song. it's like neil returned to his roots but with quality this time

-i, as an ace/aro, have never related more to an allohet guy in my life. what is the point of eyes!

-professional humming/whistling takes skill. it's different from the recreational or casual stuff. i'd know

-there's a name for the way sound (especially music) gets distorted when moving past you and i can't remember it but it's probably what neil's referring to here in the way he recorded the intro

(- update: it's the doppler effect no need to tell me cas already did)

-as someone who hasnt seen the rugrats or take me there by blackstreet i'll just say it sounded like a bouncy music box melody. nice to hear a song that messes with the typical scales though. lydian & diatonic.

-that's a rather specific thing to be glad about, but given what he talked about in his last full audio commentary about the jew harp i suppose i'm not surprised

-i know that tmbg song now. listened to it & saw the music video too. yep they're different alright

-where the hell does neil get all these instrumence from anyway

-huh. hadnt heard this part of the commentary before making my oc concerning this song but i like to hear neil's approval concerning part of my interpretation

-i love how ive heard a billion different tellings of this mellified man story from lem dem fans talking about this song and neil's is by far the wildest

-good god that does only make it worse neil

-i love making liveblogs of lemon demon albums. with the fullerenes or tally hall i cant name a specific dude to take out my woes on generally but with lemon demon i can just say neil all the time. i like being on a casual first name basis with this dude ive never interacted with once ever

-is sweet bod the one other than cabinet man with a demo in the bonus tracks? i forget

-holy shit the boston molasses disaster someone call up soapy if it doesnt already know, it'd love this

-two thousand nine. god i miss the fiddle solo. the ver with it is truly the best one

-he pronounces it jeff? i've always read it as gef with a hard g. that's what i get for knowing words that are never spoken aloud

-that's a fun meta interpretation of this ghost story that's over a century old. i like that

-i've noticed neil generally does the same synths across a whole album. it's especially more clear in the earlier ones, and does mean i occasionally mix up songs between clown circus & live from the haunted candle shop

-ah! ancient aliens! my least favorite track on this album. i cant even claim to have the least interest in a popular one i've just generally not liked this one much from the beginning. so im curious to see what neil's got to say, i think ive been in ~new commentary zone for a while now

-anyway. newest update on the loolin not realizing a song's funky time signature front: i think this one's in 6/4. or at least switches a lot between time signatures. granted i dont listen to it very often for the reasons stated above

-see the way neil describes it. eldritch horror upon being visited by the unknown at a time when humanity'd hadn't even yet had a chance to imagine such a thing occurring. should be right up my alley. but the sound itself & many of the lyrics simply turn me away.

-must i specify i don't dislike it? spirit phone is neil's best album it not being my favorite doesn't mean i think it's bad yadda yadda nobody should be surprised by this it's not like anyone in these fandoms reads my liveblogs <3

-granted i think this is. the first bit of spirit phone content i've made on my blog ever. so who knows things can change <3

-the transitions in spirit phone are much less view-monster transition tracks & more extended outros. view-monster's were a bit more intro than outro sure but they also seemed directed upon making a 2-way rather than 1-way bridge between tracks. or something like that

-.............soft fuzzy man is an incredible nickname for a cat. i'd steal that if i werent afraid of introducing my relatives to lemon demon

-jirls

-an underlying metaphor is good enough. the literal side of the lyrics are fun. nothing but agreement here neil my good man

-the transition into as your father i expressly forbid it from soft fuzzy man is the best one in this album

-buddy you ask if a musical idea has been used before odds are the answer is yes in this day & age the question is has it been used in the way you're using it. like sure this soul jazz record from the 60s that was sold out in kansas stores for a week used this bassline that youve found yourself copying. but seeing as youre using it in some angsty garage rock ballad type tune does anybody actually care

-doesn't everybody like to say things in an unhinged manner from time to time

-imagine having a guitar dad, i say, with my dad being a folk accordion/fiddle dad, which is infinitely worse in every way

-i think he was in an actual folk band at some point. idk the 90s were weird

-iron my life?

-m-more intimate? there are a lot of ways i'd describe this song but intimate isn't one of them. granted as your father is negatively intimate so from there i guess you've got nowhere to go but up

-...still glad to see his interpretation kinda supports my oc at least

-the way he says characters in songs shouldn't worry about death really strongly makes me think this is some sort of. thematic continuation of stuck from dinosaurchestra, even if there's no real death in there. interesting. would also mean that the dad from these past 2 songs is named carlos betty (no last name)

-i literally never assumed this was a flute solo. piccolo at best. it's pretty clearly a recorder

-my mom plays the recorder. i wonder if she can play recorder better than neil cicierega

-we can throw a party in honor of the crushing weight of responsibility! i simply won't be the one throwing it because i have enough on my plate already <3

-what the hell does "a sense of intent" mean

-i've never heard rush before however i disagree with neil's understanding of 6/4. 6/4 is meant to have emphasis (onbeat or another term i can't remember) on the 1st & 4th beat of every measure, which is greatly different from a measure of 4/4 then a measure of 2/4. it's why his 5/4 always sounds weird, because while it's recognizable in sequences of 10/4, it's more 2 measures of 4/4 with one of 2/4 tacked on the end. that's also how it's different from 3/4. i don't know much music theory but what i do understand i will fight to the death about

-"canonized" that's. a very interesting term to use when referring to a former president

-from now on i will interpret every love song directed at some unseen "you" to be inviting me to marry them for tax purposes. thanks neil for being an aromantic icon

-ah hell yes hell yes man-made object is my favorite goddam song on this album

-short & sweet & good damn vibes. neil's thoughts on it all are only making it better

-wild how he uses very few vocal effects for a song that he clearly is straining his vocal range for. go off neil

-the qualifier of man-made is a wonderful thing. oldest or biggest thing? oldest or biggest man-made thing? what a incredibly important specification. a world of possibilities lie between the two. oh i love it

-just gets me thinking yknow! what we consider weird/impressive in another species, in our own species- what kind of equivalent to that would there be from an outsider looking in? are there alien versions of the significances we place upon things, that we could never imagine? the limits of the human imagination mean we could never conceive of something else in the world that isn't, in some way great or small, just like us- and are we wrong for thinking that? such a juicy topic i wish there were a name for it because it's kinda hard to explain concisely

-spiral of ants. my second favorite song from this album, in fact. a good one to experience

-the vocals are just another instrument. they really truly are. i wasn't going into this commentary expecting to feel solidarity for neil cicierega in this chili's tonight on more than one occasion but here i am.

-like, his whole stance on interpreting songs is something i agree with almost entirely. you can take it at face value, you can dig to their very depths, you can listen to songs without caring what the lyrics mean whatsoever, and those are all fun. & yeah while any of these people can be annoying as one of the types who enjoys gliding on the surface more than anything i find those who dedicate themselves to figuring out the whole meaning of a song over anything else to be both slightly scary & slightly annoying <3 keep up the good work

-i want to make songs for my siblings the way neil makes songs for his sibling(s)

-spinch

-neil really shouldn't be allowed to be this funny like this whole album youre thinking golly! he's just a normal man this neil cicierega! and then he starts listing the cat hacks jokes & you remember he's had ridiculously consistent viral success with all his humorous endeavors and holy shit it's neil cicierega in action talking about his music. god bless you neil

-you're welcome, no problem, my pleasure. good eveternoon, radio audience!

[fatefulfaerie]

Honesty

Hi, again. Here is more content for all you lovely people because you deserve it and also because I need my distractions. Unless, of course, my downward spiral into mental unhealthiness is making my writing and quality complete strangers. Let me know if that’s the case and I’ll stop.

Anyways, here’s a one-shot that’s kind of long. Pre-calamity fluff is always fluffy until I remember that Link loses his memories and then it’s sad. I make everything sad, don’t I?

Zelda’s fingers were interlaced where she sat at her vanity, watching as her thumb brushed up and down the opposite finger. She tried to focus on the small tickle it produced, not the unsettling feeling in her chest, her flighty and unrestrained heart, her thoughts and feelings she couldn’t get a hold of.

“Your Highness,” Urbosa said with a few casual knocks on the open door. Zelda looked up as she came in. “You requested me.”

“Yes, yes,” Zelda said, turning in her chair. “I...need some advice.”

Urbosa’s eyebrows twinged upwards in surprise.

“It must be important,” Urbosa said. “Your father’s banquet starts soon.”

“This won’t take long,” Zelda insisted. “I…”

She exhaled a shaky sigh.

“I have a friend,” Zelda said. “She likes someone, but...she doesn’t know what to do. He’s below her station by quite the amount and although she doesn’t care...she knows everyone else will.”

Urbosa smiled warmly and knowingly.

“Sounds like your friend is in quite the situation,” Urbosa said.

Zelda forced a small smile.

Urbosa sat down in a nearby chair.

“Do you know how courting works in Gerudo culture?” Urbosa asked.

Zelda nodded.

“Once a Gerudo comes of age, she leaves the town in hopes of finding love,” Zelda started. “She explores Hyrule, gets to know herself, and finds someone who matches her.”

“When she finds that person,” Urbosa added, “someone she likes. She doesn’t delay anything. We as Gerudo are accustomed to be very outright with our feelings. A Gerudo interested in someone, whether they are male or female, comes right out and tells them.”

“Seems rather direct,” Zelda said.

“Gets the job done,” Urbosa said. “And it’s what I recommend to your...friend.”

Zelda peered at Urbosa’s expression. She knew. She absolutely and completely knew.

“Is it that easy to tell?” Zelda asked.

“You are blushing profusely, Your Highness,” Urbosa said with that hearty Gerudo laugh. “Come on, who is it?”

Zelda hesitated before her head bowed.

“The knight,” she said quietly, “the one with the sword that seals the darkness...Link.”

She wished she could dampen the way her heart swelled at the utterance of his name, the heat in her cheeks.

Zelda looked up to Urbosa to see her reaction, and she was smiling from ear to ear.

“You have a crush on your knight attendant?” She asked rhetorically. “That’s adorable.”

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” Zelda explained. “And I don’t want to stop, but I must have to. He is far from acceptable as a member of the court. My father would never approve.”

“You don’t know that,” Urbosa said.

“And with this whole calamity thing...I already can’t access my sealing power. He calls my studies frivolous, but an affair with my knight attendant really would be frivolous. Link has his own duties as well, not to mention the public already has marked me as a failure. I can’t add anything to their arguments.”

Urbosa nodded along.

“But…” Zelda continued. “Sometimes...sometimes when I see him...his blue eyes, his smile...sometimes all I want to do is forget everything and just sink my lips into his.”

“You and half of Hyrule,” Urbosa jived, a small mumble.

“Urbosa…” Zelda said despite the joke. “I don’t know what to do.”

Urbosa took a pause with pursed lips.

“You already know what I suggest,” she said. “Be upfront. Maybe after Calamity Ganon appears and is defeated, Link’s commendation will be enough to officially court you.”

Zelda looked down at her hands. Her hands that lacked the sealing power of the goddesses, her hands that were necessary to defeat Calamity Ganon. Until then, the prudent option would be for her to bury her feelings and focus solely on the power.

“Good call, though, little bird,” Urbosa said, Zelda tilting her head back up. “You two would make an adorable couple.”

Zelda inhaled to tell her to stop, knowing her heart could only take so much, but she was interrupted.

“Reporting for duty, Your Highness,” they heard outside. Urbosa stifled a laugh at how much Zelda blushed, the panic in her expression like a doe that had spotted its hunter.

“She’s decent,” Urbosa replied, completely amused by the way Zelda composed herself, standing up, smoothing out her dress, brushing away strands of hair that escaped from her updo.

Link, in contrast, was the complete opposite as he entered the room, the very picture of a royal guard. Not only was he in the uniform, but he was standing straight as a log, expressionless and waiting to be an escort to the banquet and nothing more.

At first it really was nothing more, the King worried of Yiga assassination so much that Zelda walking from her quarters to the dining hall was a worrisome affair. It was only after Zelda reminded the King that Link was a champion along with Mipha, Daruk, Revali, and Urbosa that Link was invited to the banquet. It also helped that Zelda acted like she was worried about assissination at the banquet as well, telling her father that it couldn’t hurt to have Link around and reminding him of the incident with the pot lid. Her father praised her wisdom but behind all the farce, she just wanted to spend time with Link.

“Hi,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

“Hello, Your Highness, Lady Urbosa”

His greeting was much more formal.

“Don’t worry, Link,” Urbosa said as she stood up. “You won’t have to escort me tonight. The Yiga know to stay away by now or else their numbers would decrease exponentially.”

She stopped before the exit.

“I do have a question for you though,” she said, Link turning his head.

“If someone had a crush on you,” Urbosa asked, Zelda’s eyes widening. “What would you want them to do?”

Link scratched the back of his head.

“Uhm.”

“Thank you, Urbosa,” Zelda said as she pushed her out the door. “I’ll see you at the banquet.”

Zelda returned to Link, averting her glance as she walked to meet him.

“What was that about?” He asked.

“Nothing,” Zelda replied.

She imagined telling him, him smiling or laughing with that chuckle, or hugging her, or kissing her. But he may very well show no reaction, his lips straight and unmoving, his expression warping to express confusion or, worse, disdain or disgust.

But for now he offered his arm with a small smile, something she wagered was the only thing that could pull her out of her flustered state. She remembered them talking at length at how he no longer shows his emotions outwardly. Zelda questioned why that was starting to change when it was just them alone before she realized she was staring into his eyes.

She latched her arm into his, them taking a stroll along the hallway as she looked anywhere else but at him. It proved pointless though, a blush adorning her cheeks at the mere thought of whose arm was linked with hers, his eyes, his smile, the way his blonde hair was messy under the cap, the thought of running her fingers through it…

Goddesses have mercy on her heart. Someday it may swell right out of her chest.

“It is customary for me to offer my compliments on your appearance,” Link said. “Escorting royalty to formal gatherings is an honor paid with those compliments. They told me so yesterday, briefing me on all sorts of things to say like ‘I hold envy towards the man who steals your heart’ or ‘No creature but you could take my breath in such a manner’.”

“Those sound familiar,” Zelda stated.

“And a bit outdated, don’t you think?”

Zelda laughed.

“You’re telling me,” she said. “Did they tell you about ‘In just one glance I know the meaning of lust’?”

“Yikes,” Link said with a similar laugh. “They must have left that one out.”

“The entire practice is outdated,” she said. “The whole thing is a precursor to courting. Most of my escorts are esteemed knights that are later suitors. It doesn’t seem so bad but when I have men twice my age doting upon me...it unsettles me to the core.”

“Also, like,” Link started. “Why is it only your appearance that matters? Why not your character or your intelligence?”

“Exactly!” She said excitedly. “Goddesses, I’m so glad you agree.”

“I’m just glad you finally got someone who isn’t going to say that stuff,” Link said. “And I’ll beat up anyone who has in the past. I’m serious, give me names and provinces.”

Zelda laughed again. It was so easy with him.

“That’s not necessary, Link,” she said. “But I appreciate the offer.”

The conversation lagged as they continued along the hallway.

“I hope you don’t mind that I give my own version,” Link said. “That you are gorgeous, inside and out.”

Zelda smiled. It wasn’t rehearsed. They were his words. He didn’t have to say them.

“No, I don’t mind,” she said.

They stopped, facing the large doors that would lead to the dining hall.

Zelda could already hear the bustle of straggling conversations, the clatter of plates and silverware, the shuffle of maids and kitchen staff as they prepared for the banquet to follow. Just one push, one crack of the towering doors and their time would become everyone else’s.

“When we go through these doors,” Zelda said quietly. “You’re going to go silent and stoic again, aren’t you?”

“I told you it’s my default,” Link replied.

Zelda shook her head, looking to him.

“Not always,” she argued. “With me it...it’s like you come alive.”

“You understand the pressure I’m under,” Link said, turning his head as well and Zelda praying to any goddess that her impulsiveness remains curbed. “It’s easy to just talk to you. When I’m with you...I feel like maybe everything is going to be okay. I feel my stoicism fading quickly when I’m around you, even though I know it should increase, you being royalty. Perhaps I should apologize.”

“No, no,” she implored. “Please don’t apologize. Your candidacy makes me so happy. I like you a lot when you become yourself.”

Link tipped his head with a smile.

“Really?”

“Well, yes,” she said. “All those emotions and thoughts you hide, of course you’re not yourself when you hide them. After all, haven’t we established that it’s what is on the inside that really counts?”

Link looked to the doors, Zelda tracking the movement with her eyes.

“Not to them,” Link stated. “You know the stories better than I, of all the heroes before...their unflinching bravery and how because of that, they overcame so much. I must be that image, for the public, for the King, for the champions, for me. Hyrule can’t afford for me to be anything else, especially now.”

“How do you do it?” Zelda asked. “Restrain your actions that act on empathy? Hide the deepest parts of you and show nothing? I used to think you were void of emotions, thoughts and feelings you had to have but simply didn’t. You convinced me so well that my frustration overcame me. How...how did you do it so well?”

“You wish to emulate it,” he stated. His voice was sharp and dark.

Before Zelda could voice her affirmation Link voiced a,

“Don’t.”

Zelda didn’t know what to say before they heard her father’s voice shout something from the inside. Authoritative, the muffled exclamation surely signaled the start of the banquet.

In silence, the Princess and her escort pushed upon the doors, pulling the eyes of all in attendance. Murmured conversations ensued as the guests took their chairs. Link tried not to listen and so did Zelda, the knight guiding her to a pair of empty chairs close to the head of the table.

Zelda was closest to her father, who was the head, with Link next to his charge. Link knew the champions were on his other side, but paid them no mind. The only thought that occurred to him was that he was glad to see smooth red skin closest to him instead of prickly blue feathers.

“You shine too bright,” Link said, whispering in Zelda’s ear. The volume and closeness made her blush. She listened intently, but watched her father, ensuring he didn’t see the overwhelming evidence of her infatuation. “To dim yourself would be a sin. Silence is a lonely and dangerous road to take. As your knight attendant, I must protect you from it.”

“So you value honesty, then?”

“I’m unaccustomed to the practice myself,” he said. “But I appreciate yours, how you go on about this or that. It’s an enthusiasm that fascinates me. If this burden stopped you from the happiness you find in that, I would be very sad for you.”

Zelda smirked, anticipating words in her head of teasing her knight attendant for that comment.

“Greetings, all!” the King boomed, Zelda’s focus going from Link’s stoic profile to her standing father. “We celebrate another year of prosperity in our kingdom. We are stronger than ever and with my daughter on the cusp of a great breakthrough, the goddess Hylia will strengthen us further.”

His words were laced with a commanding tone, a subtle reprimand and demand of Zelda that only Link seemed to catch. The King shot Zelda a distinct glare of discipline, to which Zelda bowed her head and Link furrowed his brow.

If it weren’t against his sworn duty, Link would have protected Zelda from her father.

“Tonight,” the King continued as Link took Zelda’s hand under the table. From the point of view of any of the other guests, Link and Zelda showed no change, even as their grip tightened. “We welcome you all to celebrate Hyrule together. Enjoy!”

“I’m sorry I can’t protect you from him,” Link said as the food was served. “His words.”

“No one can,” Zelda said. She didn’t look at Link, but her voice was hushed and her focus was on the food. Link similarly reacted, or rather, lacked reaction, his hands going through the same motions of handing to the next person a plate of food. Any more obvious conversation and hushed whispers into each other’s ears and they knew onlookers and gossip-mongers would cry affair.

“I want to,” explained Link. “But it’s hard for me to be honest about some things, given the situation. Not honesty in the strictest sense of the word, but...it’s more a problem with speaking openly and frankly than actually flat-out lying. As much as I want to, I can’t defy the King. Hylia knows what will happen to my commission and I doubt he’ll let me protect you anymore. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do,” Zelda said. “You have a duty, like me. Speaking where it isn’t our place is something else we can’t afford. We must focus on defeating the calamity first. Nothing else matters.”

Link took her hand again, the connection hidden under the wood of the table, away from the eyes of those who look to scorn.

They spoke no more words to each other that night. Their hands stayed connected until the sweat made Link withdraw, not wanting to disgust his charge when in reality Zelda missed his touch.

Link exchanged a conversation with Mipha and one with the King where his voice wavered a bit, but otherwise he was a man of few words. He was praised for his heroism and resisted speaking once again at the King’s comment that Link specifically has done everything he can to fulfill his destiny. King Rhoam went on to hope with a fervent heart that the calamity will be defeated. Link always knew he intended well with his words but that didn’t mean they stung Zelda any less.

But as far as formal gatherings went, there was only really one good thing about them. The attire was thick and scratchy, always a size too big. The eyes were numerous and weighed heavily on them. The way he felt closed off, the silence he was accustomed to made him feel trapped. Every time he opened his mouth, he felt as if he would be better off closing it, that the wrong words would escape it.

So Link was glad when the one good thing about these kinds of gatherings fell asleep on his shoulder.

He looked down and smiled at the way she breathed, cooed with a peaceful sleep. It was more than an excuse to get him out of there. It was something that warmed his heart.

The King acknowledged that it was getting late and told him to take her to her chambers. Link nodded and gently picked her up so that her bent knees drooped over one of his arms, the other supporting her back.

With a soft concern he handed her over to her waiting handmaidens and the door to her chamber was closed before him.

Something rose within him, something hot and cold and good and bad. He stood, staring at the intricately carved doors as he realized, for better or worse.

He was in love with her.

[smallheathgangsters]

Business Deal (Part Two)

Header made by the amazing @flowers-in-your-hayr​ 🌻

A/N: Here it is!! Part two of probably three! I hope you all enjoy it and I’d love to hear some feedback about what you think 🙃 I’ll be working on a few requests again before diving into part three, but I’ll make sure it won’t take too long lol, promise.

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @tranquility-or-chaos @claire-loves-music

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2710

Type: angst, violence, a lot of swearing

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

Only a few days later, Tommy had taken you on a date to a lovely restaurant and you hated to admit that you’d very much enjoyed his company.

He was charming, polite and seemed to be interested in you and what your interests and passions were.

“Are you trying to get insider information about my family out of me or do you genuinely want to know all of these things?” you had chuckled half-way through your dinner. Tommy had known you were joking but still insisted strongly that his interest in you had nothing to do with the business he had going on with your father.

After a delicious dessert the two of you had driven to his house and spent the night there, exploring each other’s bodies. In the morning though, Tommy had already left for work, leaving you to firstly, find your way through the endless hallways of his home and secondly, catch a maid who was willing to prepare a little breakfast for you. After some eggs, bread and strong cup of coffee, you had called a driver to come pick you up and bring you back home.

Your father had known about you and Tommy having gone on a date, but he didn’t mention it that evening when you sat at the dining table with him and your mother and you were glad, he didn’t. Especially since you’d been the one protesting so intensely against your father’s suggestion to get to know Tommy and now all you could think about was when you’d see him again.

It wasn’t that you’d already fallen for him. It was more curiosity that lingered in your bones, wanting to know what the man was hiding behind his mysterious cover. He had told you about the war and him being a tunneller. He had also mentioned something about still suffering under the psychological scars that time had given him. But you could sense that he didn’t want to talk about it too much, so you didn’t dig any deeper. If he wanted to open up about it more in the future, you were sure he would come forward.

It also didn’t take you long to figure out what kind of business Tommy and your father were involved in together. One Sunday afternoon, while spending some quality time with your mother in the large garden of your mansion drinking tea, she accidently let it slip. They were involved in the illegal shipping of booze to America.

“Please don’t tell your father!” she had exclaimed. “He was very clear about wanting to keep you out of this deal.”

You had rolled your eyes and told her not to worry. “I don’t care about the deal anyway.”

“But you care about the Shelby man, don’t you?” she had teased you, giving you a suggestive wink.

“Oh, shut up mum!” you had laughed, burying your face in your hands.

Your mother had frowned, giving you a questioning look. “What makes you so embarrassed about it?”

You had sighed and looked up at the sky thoughtfully. “I was so sure about me not liking him. I had a huge fight with father about not wanting to get to know him, because all I want for my future is getting as far away from this type of business as I can. But only after twenty minutes of conversation, I grew very fond of him and I feel like I’m betraying myself and my standards.”

“Love …” your mother had said soothingly, “maybe you need to stop overthinking everything you do and just see where this path is leading you. I’m sure life has some wonderful surprises waiting for you.”

You had given her a kind smile. Even though there were a lot of things you and your mother disagreed on, she had always been there for you whenever you were doubting yourself and cheered you up when life was hard and unfair. Her opinions were questionable at times, but her soul was kind. Something you were very grateful for in a mother.

“Thank you, mum,” you had said to her, giving her hand a squeeze. “I love you.”

Your statement about not caring for the business between Tommy and your father had transformed more and more into an untruth, the more time you spent with the Shelby. You knew they were selling alcohol to the Americans, but that was really all you knew.

That’s why you decided it was time to dig a little deeper and combine it with an excursion to Tommy’s betting shop you only ever heard about, but never been to. You let your chauffeur drive you to Small Heath and let out directly in front of the shop. Without thinking much, you walked over to the entrance and pushed open the door, stepping in.

Immediately, you heard a man’s voice call out. “Oi, lady! What do you think you’re doing here?”

You didn’t even have time to actually look around in the betting shop before being approached by a few men, alarmed by the unknown woman bursting in.

“Gentlemen,” you said, “I was only looking for Tommy. Is he available at the moment?”

“Who the hell are you?” one of the men asked sceptically, looking at you from head to toe.

“I’m Y/N,” you answered, not wanting to reveal your identity, hating the way people reacted when they heard your last name.

Another man suddenly grabbed you by your arm and tried to manoeuvre you out of the shop. “I’ve never seen you around Small Heath and I can’t trust a woman without a last name.”

You twisted in his grip, trying to free yourself. “Just go tell Tommy my name, he knows me.”

“The fuck I will,” the man grunted, continuing to push you back out of the front door.

“Fucking disrespectful,” you cursed quietly and kept on trying to escape the man’s grip.

“What’s going on here, eh?” you heard a deep, monotone voice call out all of a sudden. You whipped your head abruptly into the direction of the sound and spotted Tommy standing in the main room of the shop, trying to understand what was happening.

“This woman, Tommy, she’s–“

“A Y/L/N,” he cut off the man, who was still holding you tightly. When he picked up on your last name, his grip loosened immediately, and he took a step back. You noticed his eyes jumping from you to Tommy and back. The other men surrounding you also started acting somewhat nervous. You didn’t think too much about it, receiving that kind of reaction rather frequently.

“Didn’t you just send someb–“ the man who had tried to get rid of your presence started to stammer awkwardly, but Tommy rudely interrupted him again. “Did I ask you to talk?”

“N– no, sorry Tommy,” he replied, a puzzled expression on his face. You didn’t know what to make of this situation, but you felt like it was time for you to say something to make the atmosphere a bit less uncomfortable, not only for the other men but also for yourself.

“Look, gentlemen, I don’t know what this is all about but …” you gave the men a forced smile and then shifted your attention to the handsome, blue-eyed leader of the group, “I was hoping to speak to Tommy, if there are no further objections.”

The men around you scattered instantly, going back to their workplaces. You watched them return to their tasks and then walked over to Tommy, giving him a cocky smile. “Is that your pack of wolves?” you teased.

Tommy raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Your self-confidence is going to get you killed someday.”

“What a lovely welcome,” you huffed sarcastically. Tommy gave you a quick grin and then brought a hand to the small of your back, leading you through the betting shop towards his office. He closed the door after the two of you entering.

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

You snorted, shaking your head amused. “How about offering me a drink first? I thought you’d be happier about me surprising you at work.”

Tommy didn’t answer, simply walking over to a table with glasses and bottles of liquor. He pulled the cork off of a whiskey bottle and filled two glasses, handing you one.

“I’m curious about your business deal with my father,” you admitted, when you had to accept the fact that not answering his initial question would get you nowhere.

Your confession made Tommy smile. “What made you change your mind, love?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to hide a smile. Your eyes wandered to the floor. “Is there something wrong about that?”

“You like me, don’t you? That’s why you want to know about the deal,” Tommy stated, having read your mind.

You took a sip from the alcoholic beverage and strolled around his office, inspecting the paintings and decorations. “I know you’re shipping booze to America.”

“So, what is there left for you to be interested in?” he asked, lighting a cigarette and smoking it lazily. You took a few steps into Tommy’s direction, locking your eyes with his. “I want to know the exact content of your deal.”

Tommy sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly and watching it rise to the ceiling. “And why, if I may ask?”

“Would there be a problem with me knowing?” you countered, giving him a challenging look and taking another sip from the whiskey, though not breaking eye contact. “Did my father tell you to keep me out of it?”

“I just think it’s better for you to not know,” Tommy bluntly said, shrugging. “And I can also recall you telling me that you wanted nothing to do with your father’s business. Didn’t you also say you wanted to get away from this kind of work completely?”

You groaned quietly. “I did. But I didn’t expect myself to actually be intrigued by you.”

“That means you do like me,” Tommy chuckled, bringing his glass to his lips.

Just as you wanted to affirm his words, you heard shouting and yelling from outside the office. Your head snapped towards the door and then back to Tommy.

“What is happening out there?”

You could see Tommy’s gaze harden, fixated on the door, as if he was waiting for something to happen. It only took a few seconds before Tommy’s office door was slammed open and a group of armed men stormed into the room. Everything happened so fast, making it impossible for you to defend yourself when one of them grabbed you forcefully. “Let go of me!” you screamed, trying to kick the man holding you in a way that was incredibly painful.

From the corners of your eyes you could see three other men tackling Tommy and throwing him to the ground. Then they started beating him repeatedly, the blood from his probably already broken nose splattering across the floor and wall. You could hear him moan and grunt in pain.

“Leave him alone, please!” you screamed in panic. “You’re hurting him!”

“Fuck, Y/N! Are you daft?”

That was when it hit you. When you realised that you knew those men and that the voice talking rudely to you was Gerald, one of you father’s fellows.

“Gerald?!”

You stared over your shoulder at the man who was still not letting you go, giving him a bewildered look. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same. What are you even doing here? Have you not heard?” Gerald asked you, seeming very confused. Finally, he started loosening his grip. You pushed yourself away from him violently and took a few steps back, trying to take in the scene unfolding in front of you. “Heard what? I don’t understand what this is all about!”

Suddenly you weren’t able to control your voice anymore. The words coming out of your mouth sounded shaky and insecure. Your lack of knowledge about something you seemed to be expected to know about gave you an awfully unsettling feeling.

“You father’s dead, Y/N. Shot by one of his men,” Gerald spat, pointing at Tommy laying on the floor, bleeding intensively from every part of his head, while another kicked him in the guts right after the last syllable left Gerald’s mouth.

Every part of your body froze. While your eyes stayed stuck on Tommy, the whole room started spinning. A few seconds later, you had to stretch out your hand towards the wall to try and support yourself. You tried to breathe calmly, but you were only able to inhale in short gasps, fuelling the panic attack that you felt creeping up to the surface. You wanted the room to stop rotating, but the harder you tried to concentrate on the fixed point, the faster it went.

“Fuck!” you screamed when you sensed yourself losing all control over your mind and body. “Fuck!”

You closed your eyes tightly, gritting your teeth together. Suddenly, you felt rage taking over the panic in you and every fibre in your body itched to let that anger out. You let out another scream, ignored the two men rushing towards you to bring you out of the room and grabbed Tommy’s whiskey glass that was placed on his desk. Forcefully, you hurled it at the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. The men who were trying to get closer to you immediately jumped back at your actions.

“We need to get you out of here, Y/N,” one of them said frantically, although not daring to step any closer to you yet. “Somebody’s going to bring you home, where you’ll be safe.”

“I don’t want to be fucking safe!” you cried out, breathing heavily, your chest rising and sinking rapidly. “I want to know why my father is fucking dead!”

“You’ll be informed about everything after we get you home, safely,” Gerald said, grabbing you by the shoulder. His unwelcome touch made you lash out, shoving him away with both your hands. “Get your filthy hands off of me!”

Your eyes landed on Tommy once again, but this time, all your pity had vanished. Like a furious animal you charged at his badly wounded body, still stretched out on the polished wood. Without caring about his pain, you grabbed him carelessly by his collar, lifting up his upper body a few inches off the floor. You weren’t exactly sure if he still was conscious, but you couldn’t care less. “What the fuck have you done? Why the fuck did you kill my father?!”

You gave him a quick shake, telling him that you were expecting an answer. At first, Tommy was only able to let out a wheezing sound.

“You’re fucking pathetic,” you hissed, letting him fall back to the floor. He groaned, trying to open his eyes weakly. Then, he was finally able to squeeze out a few hoarse words. “Your father’s … a fraud. He got … what he deserved … for betraying me …”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” you yelled angrily, offended by his statement. “My father may have been involved in sketchy fucking business, but he was an honest man and I won’t let you talk shit about him, especially since you only just fucking shot him in cold blood!”

There was nothing holding you back. Even though you never saw yourself as a violent, uncontrollable person, you simply couldn’t stop yourself from slapping him brutally across the face. Even more blood splattered out of his nose. “Fuck you for making me like you. You didn’t deserve even a minute of my attention.”

With that, you got up, straightening yourself and wiped your bloodied hand on your dress. “Now, I’m ready to go home, Gerald,” you stated bluntly, your breath calming down slowly. You never expected hitting Tommy would actually somewhat help the overwhelming emotions you were feeling right now. For a moment, you thought you had gotten a grip of yourself. You thought, that you’d overcome the initial shock that came with the news about your father’s death. But you were unbelievably wrong.

Just as your foot stepped outside of the betting shop into the dirty air of the streets of Small Heath, your body collapsed.

[crystalirises]

The Final Answer (36 Questions AU 9/13)

Pain ;-;

Also robbed you guys of the line “I was speedrunning on a Tuesday night” for the previous chapter.

Ninth part.

REALITY

They settled back to their respective positions, their barely touched dinners left on the table as they curled up on the chair Dream had sat on. A momentary silence hung over the air, though it wasn’t as awkward or as tense as one might expect. They were both exhausted, their heads leaning against each other as they cherished the moment they had together. Their fingers were entangled, the warmth of their bodies mixing in with the other. It was a damning reminder of the cold they had both felt the first few days when they went to sleep, the other not by their side. Dream had gone to sleep the first night, hoping that when he awoke, Fundy would be curled into his arms. He held onto this moment. Fundy had gone to sleep the first night, tears in his eyes as he looked into a room that wasn’t his own. He clung to this moment. It was a fragile and loving peace, one they haven’t had in a long time. Not since the war began, and not since the war ended. Both of them feared to break it, but one of them had to. The tranquility had to end at some point.

“This is nice.” Fundy whispered, nuzzling his face to the crook of Dream’s neck. He felt the blonde shift beside him, a gentle arm wrapping around his form as Dream pulled him closer to his side. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, wishing that he could stop everything and remain in the blonde’s embrace for as long as he wanted. Thepitter-patter of rain echoed from beyond the safety of their little cabin, a world and time away from what they had then and there. Batry squeaked contentedly, flapping their wings on the small perch on the ceiling that they had settled on. Fundy missed the warmth of the home they shared. He missed the nights they used to spend together. He missed the lazy days where he would turn in bed to see a freckled face with beautiful forest green eyes that gazed at him as if he was the world. “I miss this. I miss us.”

“I miss you.” Dream buried his face in Fundy’s hair, laughing as a twitchy ear slapped him against his cheek. Fundy’s hair smelt like sunlight, bits of sand still stuck on the soft red strands. Dream really didn’t understand why Fundy would choose the desert of all places. He always thought that if Fundy ran away, he’d run towards the taiga lands. He had actually checked there first and almost got mauled by wolves. He hummed beneath his breath, content to hold his husband like this for the rest of the night.

Fundy sighed softly, knowing he would have to break the peace. “We should go back to the questions, huh?” He felt Dream tremble beside him.

“… If that’s what you want.”

“Isn’t that what we both want?” Fundy glanced up, nearly hitting his head on Dream’s jaw. He laughed softly, “You hunted me down to Dry Waters for that sole reason, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t hunt you down, Fundy.” Dream scoffed into his husband’s hair, pressing closer as if doing so would make him forget the situation they were both in. He felt a hand swat his shoulder, a playful gesture that Dream hoped didn’t harbor any resentment. He leaned towards Fundy, hoping that the fox hybrid wouldn’t pull away as soon as they resumed the questions. He liked the moment they were sharing. He didn’t want to let go. “I went to look for you… And it’s your turn to ask the next question.”

“Right.” Fundy’s gaze flickered over to the ceiling of the cabin. He recalled the hour before his first date with Dream, his mind had been a flurry of worry as he thought of how he could possibly make it a night to remember. As he paced the restaurant floor, a series of questions flew into his mind. The questions his father had asked his mother… at least that’s Wilbur said. Wilbur loved to change the narrative. “Question 12. ‘If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?’”

“It’s pretty hard to top admin magic.” Dream murmured beneath his breath, Fundy humming as if in confirmation. Dream wracked through his brain, wondering what he could possibly answer. He glanced around the room, at Fundy… the love of his life. “Maybe… if I could gain one quality, it would be … actually being normal for once.”

“Well, if I could have one ability, I would like invisibility.” Fundy felt Dream’s chest move, a wheeze echoing through the room. “What? It’ll be so much easier to scam and rob people that way. I wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught, ya know?”

"Of course you would pick invisibility. Why am I surprised?" Dream remembered the time he had given Fundy a taste of admin magic. The fox hybrid spent his entire day doing nothing but pranks to anyone who unfortunately got into the crossfire. He would have let him keep a bit of magic if it didn't mean chaos. "Question 13. 'If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?'"

"I'd definitely want to know why my family is the way it is. Like, you've seen how fucked it is right? I have a grandpa who's the 'Angel of Death' or some shit that I don't know about. I have an uncle who probably wants to murder me for being an orphan and another uncle who my ex-husband exiled to fuck knows where." Fundy rolled his eyes as he listed every member he could think of. He wasn't even going to mention the fridge – his supposed grandmother, according to his father. Speaking of, "Then I have a dad who's now a ghost and was probably a fish-fucker. Yeah! I want to know which deity cursed this fucked-up family tree. I love them, Dream you know that. But... I... I don't understand it. I don't know how any of that works."

Dream blinked, his mouth agape in surprise as he stared down at the fox hybrid. He'd never... Fish? Wilbur fucked a— "WHAT?!" Dream couldn't bring himself to even think about it. He pulled Fundy closer to his chest, hoping that he wouldn't wheeze himself to death as he thought about what type of family he was marrying himself into. He's heard about Phil and met his sons, but he didn't know any of them aside from Tommy and Wilbur. He let out a soft sigh, glad that Fundy had chosen to keep their wedding small... By not inviting his family because he didn't want to get murdered at the altar. "You know what, star? I'd have to say that as my answer because what the fuck was all of that?"

"I know, right?" Fundy chuckled, his breath ghosting against the skin on Dream's neck, the blonde shivering at the heat. Fundy couldn't begin to imagine how he'd ever introduce– He curled closer, pressing his face to Dream's neck that Dream nearly jumped. There won't be an introduction. How could he have forgotten? He felt his lips crease into a frown, his hands reaching out to hold onto Dream's waist. An embrace that the blonde melted into. Fundy wished they could stay like that. Fundy moved on, "Question 14. 'Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?'"

"I want to spend one day of peace with you. No obligations. No responsibilities. No wars springing up out of the blue. Just you and me. In this cabin." He would do anything to have that. Dream only ever wanted peace in the Essempy, and he was close to having that. He needed to stick to his plan. He was doing it for everyone, this is what everyone needed. He wasn't doing this just for him and Fundy. It was for everyone. He just needed more time. He'll give everyone the peace and quiet they deserved. He smiled, pressing a chaste kiss on top of Fundy's head. The fox hybrid's tail began to wag. "With everything that's been going on, we never had the chance to do that. Someday, we'll be able to."

"I'd... Love that." Fundy winced at how bitter his voice came out, Dream's relaxed hands reached out to pull him further into the embrace, spooked at the tone in Fundy's voice. If Fundy didn't know any better he'd think the blonde was scared he'd run off. He wouldn't do that. They weren't done with the questions and Fundy wanted to finish what they'd begun. "If there's one thing I wished I could've done... That would be fishing with everyone I loved... Which isn't a long list of people but it would be perfect. You and my dad would get along, Tubbo and Tommy would probably end up drowning while Techno and Phil have their whispered conversations."

"Idyllic. Peaceful. Maybe one day we could all go fishing." Dream looked down into Fundy's beautiful brown eyes, a flicker of light dancing across the irises. There's a questioning look in them, a confusion that Dream couldn't solve quite yet. He reached up, ruffling Fundy's hair a bit. They'll cross that bridge when they get to it. Dream cleared his throat, smiling as he thought about the next few questions. They weren't as difficult. Easy. "Question 15. 'What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?'"

"I've created beings and worlds into existence. I don't think anything could ever top my level of expertise when it comes to creating and designing." As if to make a point, Fundy gestured to the cabin, raising a brow as if daring Dream to argue. They'd both seen the houses Dream makes, and Fundy insisted he built mostly everything in the cabin after seeing... Dream's creative side. Fundy wouldn't even let him into the cabin until it was done. "Can't beat me on that, babe." 

"My greatest accomplishment would be gaining admin powers." Dream looked down at his hands, his mind a haze of what he'd actually done to get his powers. George and Sapnap had refused to tell him, telling him it was better that he never knew. He couldn't help but feel worried. What did he do to get such magic? He shook the thought away. It wasn't important. This moment was important. Not that. He could worry about that later. "I don't remember how I got them and I swear to you Fundy, I'm not lying about that. I swear it! You have to believe me on that, I really don't remember how but I might have done something right."

"I get it, Dream. You don't have to explain that." Fundy sighed, knowing that would probably be one of many mysteries that even Dream himself couldn't answer. At least both of them were in the dark about it instead of it being Fundy... By himself. Alone in the dark. Dream might never find the answer to how he got his magic and... Fundy would accept that. "Question 16. 'What do you value most in a friendship?'"

"Loyalty." They both paused, bursting into wheezes and laughs. It was one of the many answers that didn't change. It was the same answer as the one they'd said on their first date. That didn't change at least... Except, this time Dream was alone and Fundy had more friends than he used to have. Funny how change works like that.

"Glad to see we both agree on that." Dream struggled to keep his wheezes in, hiding the pain he felt as he uttered that one word that shouldn't have meant so much to him. "Question 17. 'What is your most treasured memory?'"

"My mom." Fundy's tone was soft, a muffled whisper that almost sounded as if it was but a trickery of the wind. Fundy felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Wilbur didn't know but Fundy vaguely remembered what his mother looked like: the soft curls of red hair reaching down to her waist, a gentle voice that soothed his cries, a pair of kind brown eyes that looked at him as if he was a precious treasure to protect. He remembered so little and yet so much. "I remember a little bit of how she looked like. Wilbur refuses to tell me where she is or if she ran off or if she— I don't know. But I know she loved me."

"I would've loved to meet her, she sounds lovely." Dream caressed Fundy's hair, a gesture of comfort. He knew how badly Fundy wanted his mother to still be alive somewhere in the world. But Dream was still confused, was his mother-in-law a human or a fish? "My most cherished memory would have to be our wedding. If I close my eyes I could still remember the ceremony. My dress. Your suit." He doesn't tell Fundy of the nightmares that took over his mind the moment he ran away. The morphed images of a ruined wedding haunting the back of his mind as he so desperately clinged to the life he and Fundy had made together.

"The wedding was fantastic. I wished it was bigger but we couldn't risk my dad." Fundy shook his head, wishing he wouldn't have had to worry about that. "Question 18. What is your most terrible memory?'"

"Dying the first time was pretty terrible." They both shuddered at that, both having had the displeasure of facing Death and emerging back to life. It was an awful sensation, to feel your senses fall numb as the world around you fell into dust. It would be an endless void after a cacophony of noise that screamed into your very being until you suddenly woke up in the bed you'd slept in the day before you'd died. 

"Mine would have to be the entire Schlatt Administration. Those were the worst years of my life." Fundy stuck out his tongue, disgusted at the memories of what he had done just to survive in Manburg... Feeling guilty about the sword that was in his inventory.

"Schlatt... Was the worst." They both left it at that, the air tensing at the mere mention of that name. "Question 19. 'If you knew that in one year you would lose all your three lives - or remaining lives - would you change the way you are living now. Why?'"

"I suppose I'd try and get closer to my remaining relatives, it would be difficult seeing as how estranged we are." Fundy let out a tired sigh, "I don't even know how I'd be able to explain you to them without getting both of us killed on the spot."

"So there'd be a need to explain us?"

"What?"

"You'd have to explain to your family why we're married?" Dream glanced down, Fundy struggling against his hold all of a sudden. He let go. "So, we... You and I, we can work this out? We have a chance to work this out?"

"... That isn't the question, Dream." Fundy got up from the chair, backing off into the hall. He heard footsteps follow after him. "You don't have to follow—"

"It's the only question! This is exactly why we're here in the first place!"

"We have 36 Questions left to answer, Dream!" Fundy wanted to tear his hair out. Why the fuck did he accidentally say that? They were getting through everything just fine but of course Fundy found a way to fuck it up. Of course he did.

"Well most of these you already know my answer for!"

"No, I don't Dream! I don't know anything about you anymore! How can I when you’re wreaking havoc to everyone right now?! When you’re out there terrorizing people for Deities’ know what?! And you won’t even tell me what you’re doing..." Fundy began to storm off, pulling the door open as a blast of cool wind entered the room. "Just give me a minute, I need to calm down."

"I told you to trust me! I need you to trust me, star! I just don't know when you'll finally forgive me for this, Funds!" Dream groaned into his hands. He wanted this to be over. He managed to get Fundy home and now he was trying to run away again. "You're leaving again, aren't you?"

"Wha—?!" Fundy looked at him, the rain splattering against his hair as he took a step outside. Dream followed him out, both of them immediately soaked in rainwater. "I'm not running away, I just need a moment to collect my thoughts!"

"What is there to even think about? Will you ever forgive me or not, Fundy?"

"NO!"

They both froze, the word hanging in the air.

Fundy breathed, trying to keep himself calm. "No, Dream. I... I can't forgive you. Not after everything. Do you really think I could ever trust you again? Did you actually think we had a shot here? Dream, we can't—"

"You kissed me."

"What?"

"You. Kissed. Me." Dream couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice. "You kissed me and now you say we never had a chance."

"Dream—"

"We have a chance here, Fundy. Just give me one last—"

"Dream. We can't. I can't." Fundy rummaged through his inventory, taking out the trident he had brought along with him. Dream looked at it, surprised in his forest green eyes. "I wasn't supposed to give you a chance, Dream. I’m sorry I kissed you, that was wrong. I should have never let you into my house. I shouldn’t have led you on like this. I’m sorry."

"Fundy—"

"I'm leaving. Batry can stay until the morning. I'll come back to get him."

"Fundy—"

"Enough, Dream!" Fundy shivered underneath the cool rain. "That's enough."

"We could have our old lives back, Fundy. Don't you want that?" Dream tried to reach for him, his voice cracking beneath the weight of his emotions. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you love me?”

Fundy turned away, a pained smile on his face.

"I have to leave you behind. I know that sounds harsh…” He felt the trickle of rain at the back of his neck, the salty taste of tears clinging to his lips. The trident in his hands felt heavy, beads of water tracing the edges of his fingertips. Fundy closed his face, felt the harsh wind caressing his cheek as Dream's pleas rang throughout the desolate night. His heart ached, a semblance of nostalgia begging him to return to the want embrace of the man he once loved. He wanted to return to the warmth of their home, the light casting shadows down onto the cobblestone stairway. “…but that's the reality. I wish we had our old life.”

A searing pain tore through his insides, a burning want that he needed to quell if he wanted to escape the fire unscathed. "But that shit's impossible. That's just reality." He bit back the sobs that threatened to rise from his throat, tremors running down his spine. He spared a glance at the blonde, a whimper slipping past his lips as those forest green eyes he'd love so much begged him to stay. "I should have told you the minute you came, but you sounded distraught standing out in the rain."

He knew what he had done, presented a silver lining of hope in a whirlwind that would end in demise. He forced himself back, further into the consuming darkness of the night. "And I wanted to let you in, swallow your pain, because that's what I always do." They both needed the closure... But why did it hurt him to leave? To tear himself away from a life he promised himself was dead? He gripped at his chest, knowing he had lied to both of them. "But I made a pact with my friends, under no circumstance..."

He heard the hitch in Dream's breath, the realization of what Fundy had done casted into the unforgiving air. "...should I ever hear out Dream. Unlike you I keep my word." He knew how the story ended, knew it the moment he'd open the door. He felt the shadows cling to his form, beckoning him to make his escape. They were done here. He should go. But he can't. Not like this. He stepped closer despite himself.  "And promises I make become my reality. You like to live your life blurring the lines."

Dream did what he wanted, without the thought of what others needed. It was a bitter truth that needed to be said, "Bending the rules to make yourself look better. But all that I wanted was something concrete." Al he had wanted was a life with the man he had fallen in love with. He reached up a hand, the tear-stained cheek cold against his hold. Dream clung to his wrist, a desperation in his eyes that Fundy knew would haunt him until his final moments. "And to know for a fact you are real. What I know is..."

He felt a sorrowful and bittersweet smile form on his lips, agony tearing at his heart, "I still love you!"

Tears rolled down Dream's cheek, his mouth open in silent protest. He couldn't say anything. "That's my reality."

He felt their bodies press close together, their shared heat against the storm made his mind muddled and hazy, "You know..."

He leaned his face closer, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. They shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be doing this. But he wanted to. "I'd give anything to wake up with you next to me. You and I spent these years of our lives lost in your lies." He could feel the ghost of the other's breath, their lips a few inches apart. Dream pulled him closer, and for a moment Fundy let him. "Far from reality. And it felt like a dream..." Their lips met, a long and desperate kiss mixed with the taste of salt, lime, and orange.

He pulled away, "'Cause it was"

He felt those shaking and slender fingers try to pull him back, but he was leaving the embrace. The cold stinging the sides of his arms as he finally let go. "Why do I always give in? That is on me to change." He turned around. It was done. They were done. There were hands clinging onto the back of his shirt, not pulling, but there. He knew what Dream wanted to do, pull him into an inescapable embrace until his resolve melts away. He took a shaky step forward, his foot nearly slipping at the cobblestone stairs that led away from their home. He can’t turn around. Not if he wanted to leave. "That's my reality. I can't do this to myself again."

They needed to move on. No matter how much it stung. "I deserve someone who accepts reality."

He felt the cold chill of the rain mix in with his tears, the world engulfed in a monochrome hue without the presence of the celestial lights. What a fitting way to end. Fundy took another hesitant step, raising the trident in his hand. "I can't imagine rebuilding my life with you, constantly on the edge of what I know is true." He could feel Dream’s hold on his back. If he didn’t leave now, he never would. Why did Dream have to make it so difficult? All they needed to do was let go. It was time to let go. "And you would string me along like you always do..."

Fundy laughed, a bitter cry of anguish. He wished he could scream and let the whole world know what they had lost. What’s done is done. It’s over. "Knowing I will never let go."

He turned to pry Dream’s fingers off him, a hollow stare in the blonde’s eyes as their gazes met.

“Fundy…” Dream tried to reach for him again. Fundy shook his head, a goodbye. He raised the trident.

And with a flick of his wrist, he was gone. “FUNDY!”

‘I’m sorry.’

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

prev / next

[themuzzleofnemesis]

3–Memory of the Four Seasons; Scene 6

The Muzzle of Nemesis, pages 108-117

Shakuson and I had officially started dating.

It was Shakuson who had proposed we go steady. Under the cherry blossom tree, whose leaves had all scattered.

I had no reason to refuse.

Though truthfully I should have.

Everything between us was too different.

He was so smart, and I was so stupid.

He was so kind, and I was so cold.

He was a police officer--and I was a killer.

Such a pair couldn't be together.

But--

Even so--

I couldn't lie to my own feelings anymore.

The moment he had embraced me.

The moment he said, "Let's always be together".

I had been overcome with emotion.

And I could not go against it.

.

Should I be honest, and tell Shakuson everything?

My real name.

That I had once sunk the S.S. Titanis.

That I was an assassin.

…No matter how I wanted to, I couldn't.

If I told him, everything would end.

.

--I had completed another “job” tonight.

When I returned to the room, the red-coated “Postman” was waiting for me as always.

“…Yeah, here.”

I handed over the gun, done using it.

He wordlessly took it back, and then moved to leave the room.

“—Wait a second!”

Of course Postman didn’t reply when I called him to stop, but he did come to a halt and turned to me.

“…You’re a member of this organization—of Pere Noel too, right? Do you have no doubts about your work?  Or do you at least harbor some grievances, of any kind?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…Humph. You never speak with me, and you never answer any of my questions—just as Bruno said. Well, that’s fine. You don’t really need to speak, just please pass along my request.”

Postman nodded.

“—Lately the quality of my guns have been poor. Thanks to that I wound up with several misfires tonight. The cleanup afterward is important, so make sure to send me a better gun next time.”

He nodded once more, and then left.

…I wondered how long this was going to go on for.

There was the list I had been given at the beginning. Among the five written there, I had already stolen the lives of four of them.

But that didn’t mean they would release me once I had killed the one remaining.

I was positive they would have me do the same thing again somewhere else.

I had thought about running away, many times. But the organization—or rather, the Dark Star Bureau that stood behind it, had immense power. On top of having their own private police force, PN, I had heard that they were currently allied with the Freezis Conglomerate.

An even worse problem was the fact that they had far more frightening assassins than me at their disposal.

“Number 5”, Jorm Zusco, who had murdered the members of Zeus.

And—“Number 1”, Shiro Netsuma, the expert marksman who had taught me how to use a gun.

I had once been chased by Shiro in the forest. Even back then I had been able to tell that I couldn’t win in a fair fight against her, but now I much better understood her true ability. I couldn’t hope to match her skill.

Shiro was a kind person, but she also had sworn a fierce vow of loyalty to Bruno. I was certain there was no way she would help me if it meant going against him.

I didn’t want to die.

Obviously everyone is afraid of death.

So—I had to keep going.

I pulled out the list of assassination targets I had hidden in my closet.

It was written in a cipher, so even if someone were to find it they wouldn’t be able to understand the contents.

The only one left is…

Nyoze Octo. Former soldier.

He was arrested for murdering a prostitute and sentenced to fifteen years of imprisonment by the Dark Star Bureau, but he’d escaped from prison.

They’d established that he’d smuggled himself into the Republic of Lucifenia, but hadn’t been able to ascertain his movements after that point—

Unlike my other targets up until now, he was a full-fledged criminal. …Though I wasn’t in any position to talk.

Since he was a fugitive, PN’s “public” forces and the World Police must have already been hunting him down. So then, why go to the trouble of having him assassinated?

--The long and short of it was that this Nyoze must have had some information that would be inconvenient to “Master”.

Since my target was the sort who would murder prostitutes, I felt a bit less guilty about it.

Only, considering he had been left for last, the organization probably hadn’t managed to pin down his location just yet.

They would probably find him someday, but I prayed for that day to come as slow as possible.

I could continue my life here until Nyoze’s assassination was complete.

With Shakuson by my side.

“…I think he had a day off from work today.”

I was overwhelmed with the desire to see his face.

After I had showered and changed, I went to Shakuon’s room.

I knocked, but there was no reply.

“Has he gone out?”

He’d given me a spare key. So I used it to let myself in.

I figured I would wait inside until he came home.

“…”

As always, the place was scrupulously clean.

The fact that it appeared cluttered even so was probably because he had too many things.

“Like all those difficult-looking books on his bookshelf.”

Frankly, even reading the titles of the books was enough for me.

“I don’t care much for books on education or politics…Doesn’t he have any novels?”

Eventually I found some books like that.

They had the title of the “Freezis Fairytale Collection”. Ten volumes.

I figured I could read fairytales, and so took out the first volume and opened it.

“Ough…There’s a lot more words than I thought. …Hm? What’s this?”

I noticed that something had been wedged into the book. I thought maybe it was a bookmark, but when I opened the page I saw it wasn’t. It was a letter.

“Is this…”

Maybe it was a love letter from a past girlfriend?

It feels awkward to snoop…but I have a right to see it! …Probably.

And thus convincing myself, I boldly made to look over the letter’s contents.

--Written at the top was the sentence, “To my dear older brother”.

Whaat, it’s a letter from his younger brother. …I didn’t know he had a younger brother.

And then I decided to read on.

.

To my dear older brother,

.

Have you gotten used to life in the Lucifenian Republic? I’ve heard it’s much warmer than here in Holy Levianta. I’m a bit jealous.

I’m still coming and going in Levianta and Elphegort, as always. Being a member of a political party isn’t easy, but even so I think it’s better than when I was in the military. I don’t need to stand on the front lines with a gun in my hand, after all.

--Just as we anticipated, the country of Asmodean has declared war on Lucifenia. We still don’t know how the other countries will react, but I expect Elphegort will wind up taking Asmodean’s side.

Thanks to the verdict that Gallerian Marlon passed down, the whole world is being caught up in a vortex of war. I wonder what the bastard thinks of that? Maybe he doesn’t think anything of it. Gallerian can’t think about anything but the satisfaction of his own greed.

We have to give him punishment someday. This time it’s our turn to judge Gallerian. The man who sent you to prison, brother.

Our preparations have been proceeding steadily along. But we still lack a trump card. The distrust the public has for the Dark Star Bureau has been growing, but we need something to make it decisive.

Our time will come eventually. Just hold out until then. I’m sure there’s a chance the Dark Star Bureau will revoke the sentence Gallerian gave to you once we’ve thwarted him.

And more important, the sword. The family heirloom katana that he stole from us…We must get it back.

Are you alright, brother? Sometimes I feel like I’m going mad. I first learned this once we lost it, but—that cursed sword is like a narcotic. Surely we—no, our entire family line from our ancestry—have been taken over by something that dwells inside it. We need to get that sword again, and soon.

Are you doing well as a police officer? I thought it was pretty outrageous of you to borrow Shakuson’s name and position like that. But, well, I guess you could call that not seeing the forest for the trees.

As for the real Shakuson, he’s been working hard as a member of the Tasan party. Since you’re currently using his name, he’s going by the name of Ben. I gave him that, though he didn’t seem to like it that much. But then, what else could we do? It’s not like he can go by your name of “Nyoze”.

And then…about this “Nemesis” girl that you wrote to me about in your letter. I did some digging, and it’s just as you thought.

Keep a close eye on her. You might have a use for her. Maybe she could be the trump card we need to take down Gallerian.

Just make sure to take care with her. If she finds out your real identity, it’ll all be over.

And don’t forget that you’re on the run.

If the situation demands it, kill her.

Well then, I’ll write again.

.

-Gammon Octo

.

I slipped the letter in the book as it had been before and then put it back on the shelf.

Shortly thereafter, the door opened.

“Oh, you’re here.”

Shakuson had returned.

“Sorry. There was another killing. They called me out.”

“Right…That’s rough, considering you were off-duty.”

“Well, I got it wrapped up decently enough. Apparently we’ll be starting the full-scale investigation tomorrow.”

“I see…Well, I guess I’ll head home.”

“…? You didn’t come over to stay with me?”

“…You have an early morning, don’t you? I don’t want…to be any trouble. And…I’m not feeling well.”

“You do look a little peakish. Alright, take it easy then.”

“Yeah…Sorry.”

Then I left the room and went back down the stairs.

Once I returned to my room, I immediately collapsed onto the bed,

.

Several thoughts swirled through my mind.

But…I didn’t want to think about anything.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[anneshirleycuffbert]

Anne’s letter to Gilbert - #3

[for an index to the first two shirbert letters and awae shorts, click here!]

Dearest Gilbert,

Thank you for the chamomile tea. It could not have come at a more perfect time.

Half the girls have caught colds and I am afraid I will be next to fall victim to their sickness, seeing as Diana has contracted it. Nevertheless, I swore to love her as long as the sun and moon shall endure. When I was an orphan staying at the Hammond’s–who had three sets of twins! three!– I nursed them all back to good health when they had croup. A cold is nothing compared to what the Hammond children went through that bitter February, so I’m positively certain we shall all be well in no time.

I believe taking care of someone because of and despite their illness is one of the most beautiful and valiant things a person can do in their lifetime. I suppose that is what began to soften my heart to you that day I came by to drop off your books whilst your father was ill. From the short time I talked to him, I felt that he was kindred. May I ask, do you miss your father terribly?

Marilla and Matthew do their best to hide their aging and all that entails from me, but I know better. They are not getting any younger and I dread the day that will inevitably come when I will not see Matthew feeding the goats or Marilla making her famous plum puffs. When my imagination conjures up the image of an empty Green Gables, I must stop myself then and there lest I plunge into the deepest depths of despair and never escape the nightmare. I’ve never told this to anyone, not even Diana. How my greatest fear is not being able to pursue my passions, which are too numerous to count if I tried, but of losing my dear Matthew and lovely Marilla. I was afraid that no one would understand, but I think you do.

I haven’t made my mind up yet which is worse, for a person to never know love or for them to have known it and lost it. But when I am at risk of letting these pesky thoughts run my heart to the ground, I think on the happy things. Matthew polishing his most unusual radish and Marilla and I buying material for my dress. I think of the day you and I marched to the town hall and protested for the right for freedom of speech alongside our classmates. I think of you, Gilbert Blythe, and how you love me despite my many faults and flaws. I’m still pinching myself.

Bash was most elated to see me when I visited, and Delly has much grown since the last I saw her that you’ll have trouble deciding whether to laugh or cry the day you return. Although she is still a baby, I see dear Mary more and more in her. She possesses an unusual resolute wisdom and I patiently await the day when I can converse with her and unlock all that lies in her imagination and mind. And Elijah– oh, he adores his baby sister. He takes her for morning strolls around the farm so that Bash can sleep in after long days of working. Miss Hazel, Elijah, Delly and I walked all the way to where the stream meets the Lake of Shining Waters and found Miss Stacey fishing with some of her students and Rachel Lynde, of all people! Miss Stacey sends her warmest regards and a reminder to keep the promise you made to her.

Jerry certainly made a point to tease me about you. I asked him about the post script he wrote to you, but he infuriatingly would not reveal its contents, saying that I must learn to accept that I cannot always get what I want and I should thank him for teaching me this lesson. The nerve! I didn’t thank him, of course, but I will keep his words in mind and practice them by refraining from asking you to divulge the information I desire. To answer your question, Jerry had made it a habit to spell my name without an E and one day I was made to believe he did it for the purpose of annoying me, rather than simply being ignorant to the proper spelling–which I may have been able to tolerate–so I might have snapped at him. Okay, I did snap at him but he only found it hilarious. Now he overcompensates with a capital E.

As for your request to visit me at Queen’s and escort me to Avonlea, you have my enthusiastic approval. Please be advised that Mrs Blackmore has strict visiting hours for suitors, who may only visit between the hours of 2:00-4:00pm on Saturdays, in the parlor. (But I wouldn’t be too worried because Mrs Blackmore has already taken a liking to you, and I suspect it’s because chamomile tea is her favorite.) The girls and I have become much acquainted with the parlor, for many students at Queen’s have developed a taste for the Avonlea scholars. Mrs Blackmore, it turns out, has quite a number of redeeming qualities under her intimidating exterior. She has a no-visiting policy for suitors during exam season and when there is sickness in the house. One of the benefits of having half of my housemates ill near exam season, is that we finally have a respite from the boys who’ve made it a habit to visit.

I do feel sorry for Moody and Ruby, who I never knew until recent how devoted they are to each other. Ruby, one of the fortunate spared from sickness, was caught trying to sneak out of the house after hours. We all presume it was to meet Moody under a nearby willow tree, but Mrs Blackmore has no solid evidence and therefore no collateral to prohibit him from visiting again once we’ve all recovered from our colds. I think Mrs Blackmore does not really want to expel Moody Spurgeon from the house, because when he visits he usually plays us a few songs on his banjo and Mistress Mang–our term of endearment for her–dearly loves music.

How are you and Benjamin Frederick Wright getting along? I am intrigued to meet him. Dr Emily Oak, as well, for as you said, she is a kindred spirit. I figure she must be if she’s worked her way, beating all, to become a doctor working at an acclaimed university.

I joined the Poetry Reading Club and the Writing Club and found many kindred people there. Yesterday I was asked by one of my professors to consider joining Theatre and another to think on applying to be one of the editors for the Queen’s Verdict, the college’s newsletter. I’m still thinking on it, seeing as I’m already in two extra-curriculars. And, as you very well know, the last time I was involved with a school newspaper, there were many negative consequences. I don’t think I could bear to disgrace myself in Charlottetown.

I hope you aren’t holing yourself in your books and studies for too long, Gil. It’s important to take time to be at leisure and refresh your soul. Promise me that you’ll take a walk, talk to your classmates, and try something new. Maybe explore the city with your dear roommate. I heard they have a camera at U of T, so if you ever get the chance, have a photograph of yourself taken! In regards to your all-inclusive apology, it is wholeheartedly accepted. The slate has been wiped clean.

As I write this letter, I am sitting under one of my favourite trees in all of Charlottetown. I will introduce you to her when you visit me. Oh, how I wish tomorrow would come sooner than later because then I would be one day closer to seeing you again. But I must admit, I do appreciate our correspondence via letter, as it helps me filter my words and choose them carefully. I’m afraid of how I might act and what I might say when we are reunited, given my horrible habit of callously spewing out the words I think in the moment I conceive them. I miss you terribly and I do not trust myself to act proper when I see you in person. But Mrs Blackmore is determined to make a lady out of me yet, so only time may tell.

Take care of yourself, Gilbert. I love you. Come home someday.

Anne

P.S. word of the day: Retrouvailles - the joy of reuniting with someone after a long separation. (A bosom friend who is studying French is just as handy as any foreign vocabulary dictionary)

P.P.S. Oh, darling Gil, do you not know? In order for a duel to be classified as such, there needs to be a prize. I propose the loser gives the winner a kiss. And as Rachel Lynde says, pride comes before the fall—so pucker up, Slateface. I hereby engage in this long-distance duel.

———————————————————————

lolol I know I said I wouldn’t be posting during exams, but writing this was like a mini-break from studying so I hope you enjoy! I’d love to know what your favorite part of the letter is!

This is Letter #3! for an index to the first two shirbert letters and awae shorts, click here!

[ohmightydevviepuu]

happy birthday!

for my twin separated by a time-slip, my very favorite sexy librarian @shireness-says

please enjoy this lieutenant duckling-flavored persuasion drabble as a sign of my affection.   i hope your day is full of friends and wine and macaroni and cheese as you embark on the next quarter-century!

(also the amazing @profdanglaisstuff chiming in with emma’s side of the story)

no two hearts AO3

Coming here was a mistake.

Killian Jones--Captain Killian Jones--knew it the moment he found himself staring into an extraordinary world anchored only by the green emeralds that were her eyes. His breathing hitched; his posture faltered. He forgot everything: Where he was, who he was.

When he was.

He had never believed in destiny until that moment, the moment when Killian Jones--Cadet Killian Jones--stumbled upon her.

Or, perhaps, the moment she stumbled upon him. It had been much the same, the desire to run his fingers through his hair, wondering if he had somehow hit his head. Her eyes widened and he had forgotten everything until she’d just as quickly looked away, her lips parted slightly--

Her hand was on his arm; she jerked it away as soon as she realised, giving him a small shove as she did so. And yet something inside of him prevented him from stepping back, from moving as she so clearly wanted him to; as if he had waited his entire life for exactly this.

“Your hand is cut,” he’d said. “Let me help you.”

And, without waiting for an answer, he’d lifted her hand in his, pulling his handkerchief from his uniform pocket.

“It’s fine,” she’d said, but he was already wrapping the cloth around her palm, memorising the feel of her skin and the lines that marked her hand. “There’s no need for you to--”

“I am a gentleman,” he’d said, but he’d stepped toward her as he said it and her eyes responded to whatever she saw in his face. “A gentleman would never leave a lady in distress.”

“Who says that I’m a lady?”

He still held her hand in his, could still feel the warmth of it and the quickness of her breathing.

“So who are you, then?”

And she’d smiled; a smile that felt brighter than the sun. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He’d bowed, brushing his lips just against her knuckles. “Perhaps I would.”

And she’d curtsied as she’d said, “Emma. Emma Swan.”

In the intervening eight years--when he had allowed himself to think of her--he saw her as the girl he had known. In his mind, only his life had carried forward since the day he’d left, broken pieces of his heart in his hands as he carried them off to sea. He couldn’t allow himself to imagine the life she might be living--without him--when she’d taken the ring he’d offered her and then changed her mind.

He hadn’t known her at all; that was now obvious.

Mistake, mistake, mistake.

Unfortunately, a captain of the Royal Navy was not in a position to say no to royalty when summoned. He owed his career to their grace and good fortune--and, though it pained him to admit it, to her.

If he had stayed--no matter.

Killian Jones, Captain, had no choice but to obey the commands of the king and queen he served; to accept the honor of this audience with them, and with their daughter, the crown princess. King David and Queen Snow, the sovereign rulers of the corner of Misthaven referred to by its residents as the “Enchanted Forest”.

(“My grandmother used to say there’s always a bit of magic in these parts,” she had said, and though Killian had spent the better part of the last decade denying it, he still remembered the amusement in her tone and the sparkle in her eyes as she had said it.)

The trumpets faded; Killian could only remark to himself how drastically they understated the importance of the evening.

He hadn’t known she would be here.

How could he?

He hadn’t known that Emma Swan was Princess Emma, not until this moment, standing upright from his formal bow and recovering from the world he saw in her eyes. The small wedding she’d claimed to have wanted. Perhaps, someday, children. He had never known he wanted those things before her, and he had spent eight years and a half convincing himself he had never wanted them at all; it was a world of regrets and might-have-beens and a career that never would have happened if he had stayed.

Killian had not been born in this realm, but had found himself left shipboard--at a very young age under circumstances best left forgotten--in Misthaven. And the Enchanted Forest spilled out into largest port not controlled by the maritime kingdoms. Better, the laws of indenture were less severe in this portion of Misthaven than in some of the neighbouring realms, and he had been granted the opportunity to better himself by means of a naval position.

(That had been her reason, her plea to him. “This is your best chance,” she had whispered through her tears. “Let me give you your best chance to live the life you deserve, that you’ve fought for. Go to the sea, Killian, and maybe someday--” She hadn’t finished. She hadn’t needed to. He knew her, knew her in all the ways that mattered. “Come back to me,” she wanted to say, but he wouldn’t let her, couldn’t let her.)

Killian had once believed that in all of the realms, there were no two hearts so open as theirs; no feelings so much alike. He had been lost until he met her, and he had never seen a woman since whom he thought her equal.

A bow, a curtsy passed--he heard her voice.

“Captain Jones,” she said.

“Your Highness,” he said.

Now they were strangers; worse than strangers, and they could never become acquainted. Emma Swan had deserted and disappointed him, and Killian Jones had not forgiven her; Princess Emma could never lower herself to consort with a mere naval captain, no matter the secrets of their personal history, the tears on her side and the anger on his. He was nothing more than an inferior officer.

Somewhat belatedly, Killian realized that the King was speaking to him. Words, words, words; words that he had fought and sweat and bled for, in service to king and queen and realm against the Dark One, and now he was to be rewarded with their favour. When Killian and Emma met, he had nothing, but was confident he would soon be rich. Fortune had already favoured Killian Jones and he meant to make something of himself; he was full of life and energy and he knew that he would have a ship.

All of his expectations--all of his confidence--proved justified, and The Jewel of the Realm was now returned to port, and he to her.

“Come back to me,” she had very nearly said, and now he had. He searched her countenance for a hint of recognition and saw nothing but the barest flash of relief, well-hidden in the depths of her irises; Killian did not know how he knew, but she had been, somehow, expecting him--waiting for him, and for this moment. Her hand went absent-mindedly to her neck and Killian felt his fingers twitch as he remembered the feel of the skin there, following the movement of her hand with his eyes.

A necklace.

Queen Snow stepped forward, a gentle smile on her face. Slight lines at her eyes and mouth suggested it was a habitual expression for her, and she looked kindly between Killian and her daughter.

Killian did not hear a single word that she said.

It was a necklace, and it should not have drawn his attention; it had nothing to do with him, for he had left her with only memories. The piece was small and unassuming, and nothing like the quality of jewels worn by Queen Snow, for it bore the patina of constant use.

“Captain Jones?” The princess’ voice was cool and polished, polite and full of ceremonious grace as she held her arm out to him.

He bowed again as he slipped his hand under hers, grateful for the gloves they both wore, and for the second time that night, he faltered.

The figure she wore on a chain around her neck was a swan.

---

Being here was a mistake.

She should have found some excuse to give her parents—illness, cramps, maybe thrown herself down the stairs, anything to get out of this, to postpone this awful moment she knew was coming. What she’d always known was coming. It was too late now, though, far too late for escape and… oh, gods she’d forgotten how blue his eyes were. Or no, not forgotten, just that her memories could never be more than a pale reflection of the reality of him.

She’d been raised on tales of true love, but even as the fabled child born of it had never quite believed the tales were real. Until that long-ago day, that young cadet, the gentle touch of his hands on hers and the warmth in his gorgeous eyes as he’d tied his handkerchief around her hand. Warmth for her, for Emma, not for the royal princess, heir to the throne of her kingdom. The shortness in her breath and the pounding of her heart as she’d exchanged with him those fateful words.

“So who are you, then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

She’d thought of him since, oh yes, every day of eight interminable years. Every storm that rolled in from the sea was agony to her, her greatest fear that he would be lost in the waves and that she might never know… for who would report the death of a simple naval captain to the Princess of Misthaven?

And now that he was here, whole and safe and in her throne room, she realised that her greatest fear was for him to look at her as he was doing, with cold indifference in those blue eyes that had once shone bright with love. Until the day she broke her promise, returned his ring to him and sent him on his way.

They should never have met, this she knew, and she almost wished they never had. Perhaps then she could have been content with the weedy princes and dukes her parents tried to foist on her—but once a woman has known the touch of Killian Jones, she doesn’t go back.

He’d never said this to her, she thought, though it was something he would say, with a smirk and a raised eyebrow to make her laugh. No one had ever made her laugh as he did, teasing the lighthearted girl out of the over-serious princess, by simple virtue of not knowing that she was the princess.

Well, now he knew. And though his face was blank, his posture straight as was befitting his rank and station, Emma fancied she could see the betrayal she knew he must be feeling in those eyes.

It wasn’t because of who you are, or who I am, she wanted to cry, wanted to take his hand in hers and beg him to understand. It was for you. To give you your best chance at success. What would you have been if you had stayed with me? What could you have been, if I denied you your destiny?

She’d allowed herself the indulgence of fantasy, of the simple life they had built together in their minds. The intimate wedding, the cottage by the sea. The children, she thought with a piercing ache; the little blue-eyed girl that she could see so clearly in her mind. She’d allowed herself to think that maybe, maybe such happiness might be possible for her.

She’d been foolish, and she’d paid a bitter price.

And now, watching him bow formally to her parents and then to her, she felt the pain of that price as sharp as it had ever been. Once she had believed that in all the realms there were no two hearts so open as theirs; no feelings so much alike. She’d been so lonely until she met him, the lonely princess adored by all but loved by none.

He bowed to her, and her voice was breathy as she acknowledged it.

“Captain Jones,” she said.

His was gruff, and deeper than she remembered. “Your Highness.”

Now they were as good as strangers except far worse. Emma knew that she had wronged him and he had not forgiven her. Strangers could become friends but the chance of that for them had long since passed. Princess Emma could not have friends of his station, and Emma Swan he now knew to be a lie.

Her father began to speak and Emma sighed in relief as Killian’s eyes moved to rest respectfully upon his King. Hers were free now to feast on him, to enumerate and catalogue each change the years had wrought upon the boy she once knew. He was no taller but he stood straighter and with his shoulders squared; the proud stance of a man accustomed to command. His jaw looked sharp, the beard upon it thicker, and his hair was short and tidy in the military fashion; Emma’s fingers itched to muss it up as she had so freely done before.

Come back to me, she’d nearly said, that awful day when she had sent him away, away from her but to the life he deserved, the fortune and riches that Blue’s prophecy foretold would come to him. Come back to me… and now he had.

Her fingers were restless, unconsciously they reached up to caress her one memento of him, that foolish indulgence she’d not been able to resist. They toyed with it where it hung around her neck then froze when she realised he had seen them.

Her mother drew his attention away again and Emma fought to calm her racing breaths. Her necklace was small and unassuming, easily lost among the finely wrought metals and glittering stones of the royal jewellery. Surely there was no way it would catch his notice.

Queen Snow nodded at her and Emma, with her mask now firmly back in place, stepped forward to perform her royal duties.

“Captain Jones,” she said again, pleased that her voice this time was cool and polished, with all the polite and ceremonious grace the occasion required of her. He bowed again and then his hand slipped under hers, setting her heart racing and making her for once grateful for the stiflingly hot gloves that were an indispensable part of Misthaven’s formal attire.

They had barely moved a step when she felt him falter, heard his sharply indrawn breath, and realised far too late that in her earlier confusion she had not tucked the pendant on her necklace into the bodice of her dress, as was her custom, but left it out for all to see.

For him to see—the only other soul alive who would understand precisely what it meant.

[jammatown919]

Estranged (Brainia)

Content: Maeve's birthday rolls around and brings up some painful memories for Nia.

Nia had managed to get through half her day without realizing. She'd gone through her entire morning routine, arrived at work, and made some good progress on her latest article, all while being blissfully unaware of what day it was. She was forgetful like that; it was why she set alarms for everything. The alarm she'd set for this particular occasion went off right at the start of her lunch break. Upon hearing the buzz, Nia's first thought was that Brainy was trying to call her. Perfectly normal. Instead, the words "Call Maeve" greeted her as she retrieved her phone from her purse. It was her sister's birthday. Her newly estranged sister's birthday.

Hastily, Nia silenced the alarm and moved to shove her phone back into her bag, but something stopped her. She really did want to call Maeve and pretend things were normal, but they weren't. Not a single word had been exchanged between them since their mother's memorial service; since Maeve had declared that Nia was not a real woman.

She understood why Maeve was upset; the powers she'd trained her whole life to receive had chosen Nia instead, and then Nia had lied about it. What she didn't understand was why Maeve used her anger as an excuse to invalid her sister's identity. To revoke the support that had been so vital during Nia's transition. Nia shook her head and stowed her phone away. It didn't matter why. What mattered was that Nia wasn't going to call the sister who had responded to an attempt to spare her feelings with downright cruelty. No matter how much she wanted to repair their relationship, it was not Nia's job to seek out an apology from Maeve. It was either coming or it wasn't, and considering how much time had passed, it probably wasn't.

For the rest of her work day, Nia tried in vain to get her mind off of her sister. Her concentration was pretty screwed at this point, so progress on her article had all but stopped. No matter what she tried, her thoughts always managed to circle back around to Maeve. To how they were probably never going to fix their relationship if neither of them took initiative. But you shouldn't have to, she told herself over and over, it's her responsibility to make it right.

Needless to say, Nia got absolutely nothing done between the alarm going off and the end of the day.

By the time she got home, she was considering a nap so she wouldn't have to think about anything for a while. She had a couple of hours before Brainy was due to be home. With any luck, she'd feel better afterwards and be able to make up what she hadn't been able to accomplish at work before bed.

Upon opening the door, however, Nia was surprised to find that Brainy was already home. Perhaps it was one of the DEO's rare slow days. She knew Alex would sometimes send him home early in order to give him in the breaks he never gave himself. Of course, he was still on call, but it was better than nothing.

"Nia Nal," Brainy, perched neatly on the couch, smiled over his shoulder at her. "How was work?"

"Are you watching Dateline?" Nia asked instead of answering his question. She'd suggested it to him weeks ago, but things had been busy at the DEO and he hadn't had the time nor the focus to watch much tv.

"Ah," Brainy glanced back the screen. "Yes. As per your recommendation. I find it quite frustrating."

"Really?" Nia inquired as she walked around the couch to take a seat beside him. Perhaps some quality time with her boyfriend was just what she needed to cheer up.

"I was able to identify the culprit quite early on." Brainy replied, casually slipping an arm around her. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "It wasn't difficult, and yet these detectives haven't a clue." He gave a little huff of annoyance, and Nia chuckled at him. God, he was cute.

"It wouldn't be a mystery if everyone caught on right away." She pointed out, only slightly teasingly. "We can't all be twelfth-level intellects."

"But the evidence is all there." Brainy protested. "How can anyone not see that it was his wife?"

"Spoilers!" Nia lightly thumped his arm and he fell silent with a small sigh.

For a few minutes, Nia thought that the show might be able to distract her, but that hope was quickly dashed. She couldn't focus on the unfolding mystery - although Brainy had been right in saying that the culprit was incredibly obvious - when her sister was still lurking in the back of her mind. Fortunately, however, she'd been both blessed and cursed with the ability to fall asleep anywhere, and she was already kind of tired. She'd nap to get her mind off everything, and hopefully she'd feel better once she woke up.

Falling asleep took no more than five minutes. Snuggled up against Brainy, it was easy to let herself drift into the dreamscape.

It presented itself in a way with which she was not familiar. All around her, there was nothing but dark, empty space. It seemed to be open, but Nia felt as if there were invisible walls on every side of her, closing her in, preventing her from leaving this one spot.

"Hello?" She called out, listening to her voice echo. No answer came.

All in all, not the worst dream she could've found herself in, though it did kind of defeat the purpose. She'd gone to sleep so she wouldn't have to think about anything, and now here she was, alone with her thoughts. Maybe this was the dreamscape's way of telling her that she needed to deal with this rather than just ignoring the problem.

But what was there to deal with? She still wasn't going to swallow her pride for Maeve's sake. Not this time.

You weren't supposed to get the powers.

What the hell? The dreamscape had never spoken to her directly; certainly not to tell her something like that.

"What?" She asked, not entirely sure that she'd heard correctly.  

When are you going to stop playing hero?

Was that... Maeve?

"What are you talking about?" Nia called.

Why couldn't you save Mom?

Nia froze. That was definitely her sister's voice.

"Maeve?" She asked tentatively. "What's going on?"

Why couldn't you save her?!

The scream startled Nia back into the real world. She jolted upright, eyes wide and heart racing.

"Nia?" Instantly, Brainy's hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I'm fine." She muttered. "It was just a dream."

He gave her a look, and she realized how odd that must sound coming from her.

"A normal dream." She corrected. "It's fine."

"Regardless, it seems to have caused you distress." Brainy observed, his voice soft. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"We don't have to."

"I know that we don't have to." Brainy replied, removing his hand from her shoulder. "I asked if you want to."

Nia let out a sigh. She didn't particularly want to get into it, but maybe this was how she was supposed to deal with it. Going to Maeve to directly was out of the question, so talking about it with someone else would be the next best thing.

"It was about my sister." She said vaguely.

"You don't talk about her much." Brainy remarked. "I assume there's a reason for that?"

"Yeah," Nia replied. "I told you about how my powers were passed down from my mother. All our lives, everybody assumed that Maeve would get them because my mom had a dream when she was pregnant with Maeve that her daughter would inherit the powers."

"But your mother had two daughters. Once you came out, did nobody think that perhaps you would be the next Dreamer?"

"We'd already spent so long thinking it would be Maeve. Even I didn't consider that it could be me. I didn't even want it to be me." Nia looked down at her hands, recalling the feeling of fulfillment she got from using her powers. They were so much a part of her now that she could hardly believe that she'd spent so long trying to get rid of them. "Maeve didn't want it to be me either."

"She didn't react well?"

"No, she didn't." Nia's voice cracked, and she took a moment to compose herself so she wouldn't start crying. "She told me I shouldn't have gotten them because I'm 'not even a real woman'."

"She said that to you?" Brainy straightened, his voice as angry as it was disbelieving. Nia gave him a little nod.

"We haven't talked since." She sniffled, her voice growing thick with emotion as her eyes grew wet with tears. "Today's her birthday, and usually I'd call her and we'd catch up, but I can't just call her like everything's normal. A-and it hurts, y'know? We've always been so close, and I hate not being able to talk to her."

"I'm sorry." Brainy said softly. Slowly, gently, he wrapped his arms around her.

"It's not your fault." Nia mumbled, leaning into his chest.

"I know, but you're in pain," He said. "And for that, I am sorry."

"It'll be okay eventually." This was the thought that Nia was choosing to cling to. At some point, one occasion or another would force her and Maeve into the same room, and once they were together, they'd work it out. They had to. She couldn't for a second allow herself to believe that she was going to be permanently at odds with someone who had been her best friend for so long. "Doesn't make it any easier, though."

"Is there anything that I can do to help?"

"You're already helping."

He tightened his hold on her slightly, and she relaxed against him, sighing as he began running his fingers through her hair. Despite her fractured relationship with Maeve still weighing heavily in her mind, being here, tucked safely against Brainy's chest, made Nia feel like things were okay. And they would be. She wasn't sure how or when, but someday, things would be okay again.

[veganfortheearthlings]

Hello Earthlings!

Today is February 6

I want to write something that I've been thinking a lot about lately. Before you read on I want to share:

> TRIGGER WARNING < mention of suicide! Some content may not be suitable for all readers and if that's the case please skip down the numbered list.

Today isn't a particularly significant day, but I realized it has been 26 months exactly since my brother passed away. Two years and two months. December 6th, 2017 was the last day my brother was alive. We didn't discover his body until two days later. After a blurry couple days of grieving the autopsy results came back:

Suicide by hanging

It was egregiously sudden. I knew my brother was going through some serious stuff but suicide??

I have my own history of suicidal thoughts and self harm in the deep dark abyss of depression and I turned to my brother for help or advice from time to time. I was finally beginning to emerge from the gripping darkness when my oldest sister picked me up from work. With my mom in the car they told me that the police had found my brother's body. The police immediately declared it a suicide and I knew in bones that wherever my brother was he wasn't happy with his decision.

It has been 26 months today since my brother took his life so today I hope I can help someone out by writing this list of "15 Reasons To Keep Living".

1.) The most said reason is surprisingly true. Things WILL get better! I remember those long nights where I'd drink alcohol and energy drinks in my bedroom at 3 am even though I had to be at work at 7 am. I cut. I drank hoping my organs would shut down or my heart would literally explode. I remember thinking it wouldn't get better, but I'm here typing this today because it did! Its hard and it's gonna hurt but I believe you can get through anything!

2.) Depression can seem lonely, like your friends and family care but they seem to keep you at arm's length. That's bullshit. If you're reading this I care about you. I've bled and been broken a thousand times and it's put me in a place where I can hopefully help you and I chose to take that chance. I am always available if you need someone to talk to :)

3.) You are the reason someone is happy! Have you ever seen a baby smile? The next time you're in a store and see a baby looking at you give them a smile. Most of the time they'll be super excited you even acknowledged them! It's the purest way to make someone else happy I've found to date.

4.) Animals. I'm vegan because I decided my existence shouldn't involve the exploitation of any other being. I have a cat (or to be honest my cat has a human) and she's delightfully sweet when I need her to be. Animals know when someone is hurting and most of them, if they're not predators, will try to show compassion. Just think of how many dogs you can make happy. If the noblest of species on this planet thinks you're worth love then maybe they're right!

5.) Books!

6.) Music!

7.) Foooood! Maybe you've lost all passion for things that used to make you happy. Books aren't as fun to read, your favorite music doesn't cheer you up, and food doesn't seem appetizing anymore. Or maybe they're an escape for you? If they are then that's a reason to keep living! Live to read new stories, hear new music, and try new foods!

8.) Maybe you haven't been able to travel and see more of the world. I know sometimes you might feel trapped in one place but opportunities to leave will present themselves in time. Suicide isn't an escape, it's a self made prison sentence that you can't escape from.

9.) Love. Okay here me out! Most people are lonely or just ended a relationship when they take their own life. I don't believe in God and I dont believe in heaven or hell but I do believe everyone in the world is compatible with someone! Not all love has to be romantic either. It could be love for a friend or even a pet. Maybe you haven't met yet but trust me please. They're there and they are waiting patiently to meet you!

10.) Art. I know I've always had an eye for art. 90% of the time I don't know what Im even looking but I appreciate all the time and energy that went into it! It opens the mind up to different cultures and different ways to do things. It might be poetry, music, sculpting, filmmaking, etc. People are coming up with new interesting stuff everyday and you can be there to enjoy it all.

11.) Little things. Petting a dog or a cat in your lap and hearing them purr. Brushing your teeth with your possible children. Snapchat filters. Singing in a goofy voice. Playing an instrument. Kindly buying someone else a drink out of the blue. Making a child smile. The little things you might have forgotten could be someone's precious memories of things you did.

12.) Regrets. You'll never get to have the satisfaction of saying you lived the life you wanted to live. My ideal life when I was depressed is nothing like the life I'm living now but that's because I changed as a person and now I've found happiness in simple things. I treasure life and I don't want to waste a second of it. Your life is precious and you should live it in a way that will make you truly happy.

13.) You can be a voice for others just like you. The world won't get any brighter if you turn off your light. My favorite inspirational quote goes like this:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness

That most frightens us.

We ask ourselves

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

Your playing small

Does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking

We are all meant to shine,

As children do.

We were born to make manifest

It's not just in some of us;

It's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,

We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we're liberated from our own fear,

Our presence automatically liberates others.

You can be a voice for the voiceless. You can be a whisper heard by the people who choose to ignore the screams of the suffering. One moment can change a day, one day can change a life, one life can change the world. That one can start with you.

14.) Nature. Humans aren't meant to be surrounded by concrete and steel. No being on this Earth can say their natural habitat is made in a factory or at a construction site. No, we are all primitive beings and nature is where our souls belong. Give yourself a reason to live by saying you're going to live how you are meant to live. School and 9-5 jobs weren't mother nature's inventions. I'm not saying quit school but there's always more to life than getting a piece of paper saying you're educated or having pieces of paper in your wallet with a made up value (money).

15.) You will never be able to see yourself smile again. Look in mirror. Chances are you might not like who you see. I certainly didn't. You have odd quirks and maybe disproportionate body parts. Maybe you have a tooth gap but that's what makes you original. There's no one else on this Earth with all the same qualities as you. I love you just the way you are. No make up and no shaving. You are naturally beautiful, it's the world who's ugly. If you took your life your uniqueness will leave this world. Don't become another statistic like my brother. I love him and he'll never be forgotten by me but the world will continue on. Only now he can't contribute and make my life or anyone else's life, including his own, any happier. You deserve to be happy. You deserve someone to fight deep and hard to show you that you deserve to be happy. I hope someday soon you'll see how special you are and you'll love yourself because you deserve the realest purest love there is.

Thank you so much for reading this! If this helped you in any way please like and leave a comment if you have any questions! I put a lot of time and thought into this today because I love you and I think you deserve to be genuinely happy and I hope you find the happiness you're looking for soon.

Anyways that's going to be it from me. I will be back again very soon. I hope you have a good rest of the day!

Bye-bye!

☮️💚🌎

[beingdaniellarebecca]

How to Make Imposter Syndrome a Thing of the Past

Imposter syndrome: A fancy savy turm for feelings of severe inadequacy and self-doubt regarding one’s skills and achievements. You may have heard of it?

Recognizing Imposter Syndrome

My own experiences with imposter syndrome can be traced far back. One memory stands out really clearly in my mind. I am 15, clad in black sweaters and eyeliner, lying in my bed, listening to My Chemical Romance. I feel depressed and hopeless, and here is the thought causing those feelings: Woe is me, l will never be able to be the frontwoman of a famous emo band because neither of my parents were drug addicts. 

I’m super serious. I legitimately thought that because my life did not look like Gerard Way’s, I would never be able to create music the way that he did. 

Years have passed, my music taste has evolved and rotated, and this imposter syndrome I speak of has lessened. Actually, these past few months, it’s lessened so much, that I can look back and fully recognize the state of imposter syndrome I was once in. At the time, it felt so real, like all my fears were true and there was no other option but to believe them. Like a fish who doesn’t know what water is because he’s never known anything else. 

Exposing Imposter Syndrome as a Jumble of Untrue Thoughts

In retrospect, I can now put a name to that cloud of confusion that surrounded me, the fear that I'm not good enough, that I don't know enough, the paralyzing self-doubt that I was doing everything all wrong. The absolute conviction that I do not have what it takes.

In my opinion, this is really the essence of imposter syndrome. This conviction that we are lacking something that other’s have, like they are all ‘real’ artists/musicians/entrepreneurs, and I am only an imposter. Be it a specific education, more money, a different nationality, we think we can’t be like them cause we aren’t them.

These days, when imposter syndrome comes for a visit, I politely direct it towards the nearest exit, reminding it to take a mint on it’s way out. You see, I’ve figured out how to see through imposter syndrome's cloudy veil. I've found out how to unravel all the little knots it has tied up around me.

I have a friend who draws and paints. Often when we talk, my friend and I, she brings up all her insecurities and self-doubts regarding her art Instagram account. She wants to someday have lots of followers, and make money off of her art, and share it with the world. But she sees other artists’ accounts, the kinds with 15k followers, and she compares herself to them. 

"I don't have a consistent style like them." 

"I'm not interesting like them." 

"I don't have the confidence that they do." 

(Enter imposter syndrome.)

Let me tell you something about my friend. Her art is really good. She posts consistently, just like all those other people do. When I open up her account and look at it from an outsider's point of view, it looks like a blooming art account, with all the right stuff happening in all the right places. High quality art. Consistent posting. I look at her account and see no difference between hers and that of one of those famous people she mentioned, content-wise. She’s doing everything right.

So I tell her that. I say, “Dude, from where I’m standing, your account looks just like all those other accounts. I know you, so I know about all your overthinking and indecisiveness, all of your insecurities and self-doubts. But if I was looking at your account and I didn’t know you, I would see a flawless account and assume a flawless creator. So aren’t we doing that to all those successful artists that we don’t know personally? They probably are thinking exactly what you’re thinking. That they aren’t good enough, that they aren’t consistent enough…you just can’t see it from their account. Someone below you is probably looking at your account thinking ‘I’ll never be where she is.’”

BAM. 

Do you get my point? Did I make it clear enough? 

If not, let me clarify that for you: Imposter syndrome is a trick of the mind, misinforming us and coming to mythical conclusions based on the little we know of other people.

Here's another example. My mom started doing Facebook lives lately, to promote her mind-body chronic pain coaching service. One time, literally in the same house as her, but in a different room, I went on Facebook and tuned in to her call for a few minutes. 

From my computer, it looked like any other Facebook live. It could've been Joe Dispenza talking. (Super famous mind-body guru. Look him up.) Except it wasn’t, it was my mom, and there weren’t as many people watching. But again, content-wise? Same quality.

What I knew about my mom, that all of her viewers didn’t, was that she had a glass of wine before she went live, to calm her nerves, and that as soon as it was over, she was anxiously overthinking all the things she said, cursing herself for whatever unnoticeable mistakes she made. I don’t know Joe Dispenza personally. But I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he goes through a similar ordeal, unknown to his viewers. Or that he did, at some point in his early beginnings as a New Age sensation.

We see what others do from the outside, and we think it was all smooth sailing for them. That they were born with a 300k fanbase and a soaring talent for whatever it is. We see their posts, their videos, their finished projects, and for the most part, we don't see their thoughts, feelings, fears, self-doubts....and we believe that we are different than them. We think they have it all together. We think that because of that, we can never succeed because we don’t have it all together. But neither do they! Or at least, they didn’t in the beginning! And that is perfectly fine and natural. It’s just part of being a creator. Everyone experiences it. (Maybe a few people don’t. I’m not sure where they come from or what they’re doing here.)

Now I’ve shown you the untruth fueling this notorious imposter syndrome. Now I’ll tell you what is true. 

Feeling the Fear and Doing it anyway

What is true is that you definitely will not succeed if you don't try. The difference between those who are out there creating content, music, films, art, and those who aren't, is that the first group feels the fear and does it anyway. While the second feels the fear...and maybe gives it a little too much space.

I’m all for giving your fear a little space. See it, allow it, accept it, acknowledge it. And then do the thing anyway.

Realizing that there is nothing significant that separates me from the people out there succeeding has helped me lower the volume on my imposter syndrome. And now I have a blog, where I write articles that I don’t feel so confident about, but I keep working at. I know now that most people started exactly where I did, and if I keep at it, I have a chance of getting to where they are. Because the only difference between them and me is time and experience. Skill is aquired. (If you think talent is something you’re born with and have no control over, than read Daniel Coyle’s The Talent Code. Basically, it’s not, but that’s for a whole different article.)

I hope that I’ve helped you open your eyes a little bit more to the reality that you have everything you need to get started. Or maybe you already knew, and you just needed a little reminder. Go out and follow your dream. Go do the thing. Feel your fear, call it by its true name- a false thought- and do it anyway.

[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

The prompt A finds B crying in a corner, in which A is Odo and B is reader + “The doctor ordered me to smoke”. Reader cries over his crush that don't share their same feelings them and Odo is there to cheer them up or help somehow. Odo can understand reader's feeling because he also loves Kira but she ignores his sentiment.

{ This one is very intense, long and a little angst, just how I like it. }

Share and like if you appreciate my job, please!

> Everyone can ask for a PROMPT, send only detailed requests!

💔 ODO 💔

Love was a strange feeling.

A feeling that the changeling still did not fully understand and Odo didnot know how the humanoids could live with this feeling inside of them. It wasunbearable.

For a while, Odo had ignored it, it was impossible that he was in lovewith Kira, this was not his duty nor need. He had always lived withoutthe necessity to breed or fall in love. He was not made for this. He was nothimself.

His responsibilities were others, his job was the most important valuefor him and this irrational, primitive and frivolous feeling called love wasblinding him, destroying him from the inside like a deadly virus. Nevertheless,when his eyes met Kira’s, all his fears faded away and a feeling of joy invadedhis entire existence. Nothing was so terrible anymore, he felt satisfied, contentand relaxed but when Kira was not next to him, his heart drowned into the abyssof agony and regret over and over again. As if he wanted to rip his own heartfrom his chest, if he had a heart but the only thing he had was an emotion of numbness.

Alternatively, when Odo saw Kira in the company of Shakaar, a newfeeling took possession of his soul. A feeling of anger, hatred andnervousness. Simply, jealousy. He was jealous because he wanted to be in thatman’s place. To kiss her lips, caress her skin, smell her perfume and play withher hair. Things that Shakaar already did. Odo could only savour this realityin his secret dreams.

Odo did not want to think about Kira or Shakaar or his broken heartanymore. He did not want to think about anything and anyone so he decided totake a walk through the promenade, maybe checking Quark out would havedistracted him but the bar was about to close and no one was around anymoreuntil he heard a strange sound. Sounds of sobs accompanied by a smoke, grey andunknown.

Was something going on fire in the station? Perhaps the situation wasnot as quiet as it seemed and then Odo ran towards that smoke. But what hefound made him even more confused because he found no danger. On the contrary,he found you in tears. Were you smoking? He believed it was so, an old bad humanhabit, he had read about it in some of the crime novels that O'Brian had lenthim. Odo could not believe you had that terrible vice.

You were his colleague, a member of security, an honest, trustworthy andkind person who had never disappointed him. Odo, on the other hand, was yourboss and you had a great respect for him. Odo was your role model but not the reasonyou were crying. Perhaps the changeling was not the only one here to have abroken heart because you were crying out of love. Unrequited love. An ingrate love,as ingrate as this life and universe.

“Smoking is not allowed in the station!” Odo said withseverity.

“I haven’t read any rules about it. I’m sorry.” You answeredin a cold tone of voice, a tone Odo had never heard from you.

You blew a cloud of smoke from your mouth, observing how it vanished in theair.

“You should know the rules better than anyone.” He said, warybut also worried about your behaviour, too weird to be realistic.

“The doctor ordered me tosmoke.” This was your unrealistic and absurd answer.

Then you took another taste of your cigarette, you felt the smokeburning in your throat. It tasted good and warm, you almost forgot your painbut then you remembered it when you tasted pure oxygen.

“Really? You could have invented a better excuse.” Odo sighedand he started finding all this smoke annoying. Luckily, he could not taste orsmell it since he had no sensory organs but he still did not like it. He wouldnever like it.

“Actually, it’s relaxing; it helps me to get distracted. Not tothink of anything. I know this attitude is bad but not as bad as others…” yes,something different from the pain you kept in your heart.

There were worse addictions in the world and you did not think smokingwas the most dangerous. Maybe falling in love was one of the worse addictionsbecause it also killed you slowly and miserably. No choice. No escape. You feltprisoned and hopeless.

“I do not think the Doctor Bashir would agree with your opinion. I donot understand why humanoids like destroying their bodies this way. I know thatsmoking can cause so many diseases but they seem to forget about this littlebut not so insignificance detail. Maybe they do not have all that self-respect,or, simply, they are so selfish that they want to be the cause of their own destruction.Humans are really devious and extravagant creatures. I will never understandtheir way of behaving, it is so irresponsible but I would never have expectedit from you.” Odo explained his opinion, he did not hate humans but he justfound some of their behaviours so odd and irrational.

“I am still a human being. I also make my mistakes. I can also beirresponsible and want to destroy myself slowly.” You confessed withbitterness in your voice.

“You are not yourself! What is happening to you? Yesterday you evenarrived late at job but I decided not to pay any attention, I can make amistake on purpose as well but, obviously, something happened to you and I wanta reasonable explication now.” Odo’s voice was severe and his sentence lookedlike an order.

“Nobody can hide you anything, Constable. I have always admired youbecause you always manage to be professional, cold and serious even in theworst situations. I would like to have your determination. I am very sorry. Butit’s true, something happened and I don’t feel fine.” You confessed,taking the last breath of your cigarette and then you threw it away, steppingon the cigarette.

“And what would be the problem?” Odo asked.

“It’s not about work and I don’t know if you can understand. It’s ahumanoid thing, a matter of feelings. A nuisance.” You confessed, keepingon stepping on that cigarette as if you were venting on it because you wereangry, sad and confused.

“I have always observed and studied the behaviour of men so it ispossible that I can understand those feelings even if they are a nuisance. Onthis we agree.” Odo has always found emotions as a bother, an obstacle, itdid not allow people to performance their job properly. Sometimes, he hatedhimself because of those feelings. He continued to hate himself for loving Kirathat much, he could not do anything to stop it and this was unacceptable. Aweakness. Even now, he felt weak because that thought was still there and didnot go away.  

“Well, it’s about *your crush name*. And I don’t even know how toexplain it.” you snorted.

“Do you like them?” Odo got to the point, he did not likewandering around things.

“Yes, but I have no hope or courage to confess my feelings to them.”

“A quality that I noticed in humans is their innate determinationand therefore you should not give up without even trying.”

“Reality is not so simple, constable Odo. They already love someoneelse and I’ve been so idiotic to give them a good advice. Since I’m a goodfriend, I told them to try and ask that person to go out to dinner. For amoment, I was deluding myself that they were talking about me. That I was theperson they were in love with but these things only happen in movies. I justpushed them into each other’s arms and I’m alone now. They’ve said that I amthe best friend of the universe. Such beautiful words.”

At that moment, Odo felt suddenly uncomfortable as if theblade of a sword had hit him. It was a lightning out of aclear sky. A realization. He hadalready heard this story and had already lived this experience on his own skin.He remained silent, unable to speak; he did not know what to saybecause he had not found the solution to this problem nether.

You sighed, giggling nervously, “I’m sopathetic. There are so many problems I should think about, like the security ofthe station, the threat of the Dominion but I’m still here crying like ateenager over stupid heart problems. You have the right to pity me because I ampathetic, a stupid sentimentalist.”

You just felt so miserable and you did not want to appearso weak, not in front of him. Not in front the person you estimated.

“You are not stupid or pathetic at all. You are onlyhuman and I do not believe that loving a person makes you a fool. Certainlylove makes people do silly things and in fact you were poisoning your body withthat cigarette’s smoke.” Odo said, his tone was calm and he actually didnot blame you because he knew the feeling, he understood you very well becausehe lived and was still living the same your sorrow.

“And doesn’t that make me miserable?”

“No, just human.”

“Thanks, constable Odo.”

“I know that my words will not cheer you up, but Iassure you that you are not the only one with a broken heart. Maybe workingharder can help you get distracted and use the energy you got inside forsomething useful instead of hurting yourself in that atrocious way.”

Odo did the same, he worked harder than his usual sincehe had realized the feeling he felt for Kira and how he also comprehended howhopeless and pathetic he was to keep thinking she could consider him more thana mere friend someday.

“It’s true. I understand, I’ll do my best. Thank youso much Odo.” You smiled, softly.

“Do not worry.” Odo nodded, proud as always.

“Odo, would you like to have lunch with me one ofthese days? I know you don’t eat but I also know that you are reading *your favoritebook’s title*. I would like to discuss with you about it. What is the point inreading a book if you can’t argue with anyone?”

After the conversation you had with Odo, you decided youwant to know him better and you were sure it would be worth it, even if he wascold, austere and severe, you knew he was also understanding and opened-mindedin his cynical way. You could learn a lot from him and maybe even Odo needed alittle company, a new way to distract himself and not to think about his brokenheart and illusions of love.

“Sounds reasonable. You humanoids care a lot aboutthese social rituals; you are able to discuss about every kind of topic.Impressive, a bit useless, but I may find it interesting.” Odo commentedyour idea in his usual skeptical way, but it was his way and he accepted afterall.

“You said you were an observer of the humanoids andso this is also an aspect that is worth studying.”

“Exactly.“

Then you and Odo decided to help each other, not to fall apart, not now, not until you could count of each other's friendship. 

Better days would come on DS9.