#seriously i love this story but everyone please stop leaving negative comments just keep it to yourself

[missdaviswrites]

“Write for yourself” and other well-meaning(?) but misinterpreted advice

Because I don't know when to shut up I'm posting this comment from AO3 and my response to it. Hi person who wrote it and follows me on Tumblr! Instead of sending me anon messages about this, you should probably just unfollow me now! 

I’m bolding the parts that I think are relevant to all writers and not just about my specific story. (Which you can find here with this link since I am obviously a person who will do anything for readers including, you know, write a story and want people to read it.)

reader01 on Chapter 7 Fri 10 May 2019 01:38PM EDT        

 Wait, did you write this fic just because you felt like people reacted well to one thing from Breakable? I know writing's hard, but it sounds like you're not enjoying it, which makes sense if you're not writing it for yourself but for other people, and only looking for comments/kudos/hits. I say this because I saw your post on tumblr about how you just posted a new chapter and it wasn't getting any feedback. Why not write a story for you? For, you know, fun?

My reply:

  Okay, wow. First of all, I do write fic for an audience, after spending many years trying to write original stuff and failing to finish anything. The only way I can motivate myself to finish is if I know people are waiting for it. "Write for yourself" is common advice, but not the whole story. Yes, write the thing you yourself would want to read. But why would I write a whole story for myself? A ficlet of 500 words takes a few hours. A chapter takes minimum a week, probably 2 or more. A whole novel-length fic takes a year or more. Why would I spend all that time writing if it was just for me, when I could just tell myself the story *in my head* without having to do the work of writing it down and editing and polishing it, which is normally about 8 stages of editing for me? Why would I do that for myself only? That's not "fun." Writing has some fun moments, when I'm in the groove and the perfect phrase comes out, but overall it's not a fun hobby. It's not even a hobby, most of the time. It's a compulsion and when I'm in periods of my life where I'm not writing, I feel less complete, even if everything else in my life is going well.

Anyway, you are mistaken about the genesis of this particular story. The very first thing I wanted to write when I found Sherlock fic was Breakable, because I really wanted a hurt/comfort story where John was the one injured, to see how Sherlock would react, and I wanted the injury to be permanent, because I didn't see that often and I thought it more realistic than being cured by the end of every story, like most that I read. I read a lot of stories where one character was blind or deaf, but not many with mobility issues, so I settled on the set-up of Breakable, with John being permanently paralyzed and Sherlock blaming himself and the two of them taking 120K words to get to a good place together again. And I loved that story, and I still do. I love the characters and even though I don't think they are too different from canon John and Sherlock, they still hold a very special and unique spot in my heart. So I really, really like it when other people read this series and enjoy it. I get to share my love for the characters and universe with other people. "Write for yourself"--nope. I write to share my love.

So after I finished writing this story that I love, I didn't think I'd ever write a sequel, because I couldn't imagine what it would be about. I knew I wasn't going to write a fic where John gets cured, and I didn't think I had anything else to say that would be enough for a longer fic.  I wrote some ficlets with the characters, and that was fun (for the sense of fun as described above—I like the end product, the process is pretty terrible). Then I had an idea about Moriarty. I'd meant to mention him in Breakable, but he never made it in. My idea was that he had died as in canon, and Sherlock had nightmares where he was taunting him about having broken John. But it just never fit into the story as I wrote it. But a couple years after I was done with Breakable, I had another idea. If John and Sherlock were together from the beginning as they were in this universe, then most likely Reichenbach never happened. Maybe Mycroft kept Moriarty locked up when he first had him in for questioning, instead of letting him go like he does on the show. But if Moriarty learned Sherlock married John, what would he do? Flip out and escape from prison so he could torment them, obviously. So there was the idea for this fic.                                                                

BUT. It wasn't enough. This is where your mistaken assumption comes in. When I wrote Breakable, I put all the stuff with Sherlock's mental health in it without thinking about it too much—it just seemed to be what the story required. But readers really reacted to it, which made me realize it was an important aspect that lots of people (myself included) could relate to. So now, 2 years later, I saw a solution. The plot with Moriarty was fine, but it wasn't very much like Breakable, in that what I enjoyed about the original was the internal plot—how John and Sherlock's relationship both changed and didn't change, and how we saw Sherlock's internal thoughts and emotions. But the stuff with Moriarty was external, and writing that would have a completely different feel and tone from Breakable. I love the feel of Breakable, and I'm not much interested in external plot or cases in general. But with not wanting to pursue anything further with John's injury, and Sherlock and John settled pretty firmly in their relationship by the end, I didn't know how to recreate that feeling, which was, to me, essential if I wanted to write a long sequel. Sherlock's mental health offered me a way to keep that feeling and tone. I knew about the study on dementia and anticholinergics, which had come out while I was writing Breakable. I thought Sherlock would definitely have strong opinions on it, given that he is taking one of the drugs in the study. So there was my plot—external incidents with Moriarty, plus an internal side for Sherlock in regard to his mental health. (Of course in the 2+ years I have been working on this, a lot more stuff has also made its way into the fic.) But I certainly didn't think, "Hey, I'm going to write this story about this because people will want to read about this one specific thing and so I will have an audience." Yes, I want an audience. Yes, I go through the cumbersome process of writing and editing and posting so other people can read it. But the story itself is the one I want to tell. If I wanted to write something designed to pull in readers, I'd be writing fic about how Mary was evil and the baby was fake and John never really hit Sherlock and everyone is soft and smol and no one ever does anything wrong. I write what I want to read. And then I offer it to others, and hope they like it, too.

And telling a writer to stop writing a story is more than a bit not good, even if you think you are doing them a favor. It's much like telling them they wrote a chapter wrong and out of character, which is not a very good thing to do. Would I stop writing something because of poor reader response? Probably not, because I know some people are enjoying it and don't want to let them down. But there are many, many abandoned fics where a writer stopped because of a hurtful comment, which is what triggered my complaining in the first place. I think you are not the same person who made that comment, but I can't say for sure since you posted your comment anonymously. But I suggest if you don't enjoy reading this because you think it's somehow lessened by being a product written for an audience, you stop reading it and maybe don't follow me on Tumblr anymore. I'm not a person telling myself stories as I fall asleep at night. I'm a fic writer posting my fic to share it with the world.

[vemuabhi]

The Wedding Day

Hello everyone!! This is one of my piece for the Sanji fest 2021 hosted by @burnthoneymint​​ I hope you like the story! Thanks for letting me take part in this!

Prompt : “Say something. Are you hurt?”

Word count : 2K

Warnings : nothing but Fluff

A/N : I was listening to EXO Kai Amnesia from Mmmh album (clickable) while I wrote this. You can check it out if you want. It got me the feels when I was writing this. (You won’t regret it)

Please do refrain from commenting the spoilers please!

Gif and picture not mine

It was the most awaited day. You wore your lavender dress and stood in front of the mirror as you looked at yourself one last time before leaving your apartment. You went to the destination which was the beautiful castle and went inside. You walked to the room allocated for the bridesmaids. Yes you were one of the bridesmaid for one of your dear friend. You greeted the other bridesmaid, Kaya and went to the room of the bride. There stood your beautiful friend. In a non-traditional peach coloured mermaid dress. You went towards her and stood beside her.

“You look beautiful Nami”, you said. She smiled and thanked you. You knew she was nervous. You took her hand in yours and assured her everything is going to be alright. Even though never met her partner (But heard of of course) nor even Nami’s friends, you knew Nami, and she would make the perfect choice. After some encouragement, you left the room.

You were searching for restroom. The castle was so huge and had hallways and so many closed rooms, which was so confusing, like a maze. You searched for a while and went to other side of the castle, where the partner of bride was supposed to be. You went towards that place and saw a person with a straw hat dressed in black tuxedo. Beside him was a person with long nose in the same outfit, stuffing themselves with food. ‘They are eating this early’, you thought. You passed them and went ahead.

While you turned in a corner, you bumped into a tall man dressed in the same black tux, the previous two were wearing. He had wavy black hair, had freckles on his face and was really gorgeous. You apologised, as well as he did and you went ahead. ‘So handsome and polite’, you thought.

‘Where the hell was this bloody washroom?’ you cursed inside your head and somehow at the end of one hallway, you found the washroom. 'Thank god!', you thought as you went towards it. You saw a man in a fine black suit, blond hair with a cigarette in his hand. He was pacing fast and seemed nervous. You walked passed him into the restroom.

After a couple of minutes, you came out of the washroom and saw that this man was still in the same place. Except for the fact that he wasn’t pacing now but, he sat down and placed his right hand on his hair and was mumbling something. ‘What is this man’s deal? So weird’, you thought to yourself and were about to pass him but you heard sobs. You gulped and slowly looked at him. He was sobbing with his big eyes watery. ‘Why was he crying all of a sudden’, you thought. You really wanted to leave but you felt a bit guilty. You sighed and crouched down before him. But you maintained a safe distance from him because you felt like it.

You asked, “Hey! You seem… not okay. is everything alright?” but he continued to sob like a chibi anime character as he looked at you. ‘What was this person’s deal?’, you thought as you questioned again, “Say something. Are you hurt?” this time handing him your kerchief which he accepted and wiped his tears.

“I…”, he said in between his sobs and continued, “I’m scared. I am nervous. This is a big responsibility and Nami san gave me this opportunity but”, he said and wiped his tears again. You continued to listen to him as he sobbed. ‘Why the hell is he so nervous as if he was the groom. Im sure not even the groom would cry like this’, you thought but listened anyway because it seemed interesting.

“I am…”, he continued, “So honoured but… I cant stop this nervousness. I keep getting these negative thoughts like ‘What if I mess up’ or ‘What if I don’t do it properly’ or 'what if Nami san thinks she made the wrong decision', so I am crying like this in front a beautiful bridesmaid”, he said as he again started to sob as he placed his hands on his face. ‘Oh, he said I was beautiful!’, you felt happy in your heart but didn’t let it show on your face.

“See, look at me”, you said and he slowly looked at you. You looked into his blue eyes and said, “Listen to me. You can do it. Don’t worry. Believe in yourself. You won’t mess up. Follow your heart. Be positive. See, I never met you. I never saw you. But I believe in you. So don’t worry.”

You rambled those words in a way to cheer him up and thankfully, he kinda took those words seriously and flashed you a smile. He got up and offered you his hand. You took it and got up. He thanked you as he bowed. You waved at him and walked to the Nami's room. Thankfully not getting lost. There you saw a raven haired beauty, who wasn’t there when you got here.

“Hello mademoiselle, I am Y/N, can I know your name”, you said as you offered her your hand. She giggled as she placed her hand in yours and replied, “Robin”

“Such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman”, you said and everyone in the room laughed. You looked around confused and the maid of honour, Nojiko said, “You are just like Sanji, the ladies man”

‘Who was that Sanji the ladies man? Why did they tell, I was like him?’, you thought

“By the way, where were you all this time?”, asked Kaya

“I was looking for restroom. Damn it was so far away. I’m happy I didn’t get lost”, you complained.

“But… there is a restroom right here”, said Robin chan as she pointed towards a door inside the room.

“And also in the bridesmaids room”, said Nojiko.

"And also literally in every single hallway", added Kaya.

Your eyes and mouth were wide open as they said that. “I..What…but...”, you tried to say something but ended with, “Damn it”, everyone in the room laughed again as you lowered your head in defeat.

Finally it was the time of the wedding. After Kaya, walked with a man with long nose. Then you and the man with freckles whom you bumped into before offered his arm to you. 'Ahh! The handsome man!', you thought as you both linked your arms. He smiled at you and you both walked down the aisle.

Then you saw a familiar face in the centre of the place with droopy shoulders. ‘That cry baby blond is here’, you thought. He looked at you and smiled. You smiled back as you straightened your back. He got your indication and straightened his shoulders and nodded at you. ‘Damn that was cute’, you thought. Then came the beautiful Robin chan, with the man still wearing his straw hat.

You took a deep breath and turned as you looked at the blond. He was biting his lower lip with stress. He noticed your stare and looked at you. You smiled as you gave him a thumbs up. He nodded and you both looked at the maid of honour, Nojiko and the man of honour, who had green hair come in.

Nojiko stood beside Robin and said, “Zoro almost got lost for the third time”. For which Robin replied with a giggle. ‘Her laugh is so precious’, you thought. Then the music started to play. Everyone stood up and looked at the door.

There she came, in her beautiful, traditional, pearl white princess dress. Her veil covering her face and she held the beautiful Gloxinia flowers, which was so unique. She was so beautiful. You smiled as she came slowly and stood before the blond.

“So that is Vivi, so beautiful”, you said as she turned to look towards the door. Then came your friend, in her non-traditional peach mermaid dress, with her veil back on her beautiful hair as she held the pretty baby romantica roses which you selected for her. You really were touched at how she valued your opinion for this. You were so happy for her getting married. She came and stood beside the other beautiful bride Vivi.

You and the blond looked at each other one last time and he started to officiate the wedding. Nami and Vivi said their vows. They were so perfect for each other and loved one other to the core. You wished you could find a person who would love you unconditionally. They both exchanged rings. The blond wiped the corner of his eye with the kerchief you gave and said, “I declare you as wife and wife, you both may now kiss”.

Then the both brides kissed and walked together as the music was played by a famous musician named Brook. You tried not to cry at the moment. Everything in this wedding was so precious and emotional that you were trying so hard not to cry. After taking photos and congratulating them, then came the main event. The bouquet toss.

You stood a bit far, from the crowd and tried to calm yourself and not to cry. You looked as the flower bouquet came towards you. As if it was a reflex, you caught the bouquet. It was the Gloxinia flowers bouquet, which Vivi held. As if that was a snap, you couldn’t control your emotions and started to cry. You walked and stood a bit farther and looked at the pretty flowers. The blond officiant saw that you were crying and started to walk towards you. The second bouquet of baby romantic roses was thrown and you looked at the flying bouquet as it landed in the arms of a person. You looked and now started to laugh. The blond officiant caught the bouquet and everyone started to laugh at it. Well, it was a refreshment for you as well as the people in the wedding, 'cause everyone remembers a good laugh.

Then the next event was where everyone danced. You calmed yourself down and stopped crying. This wedding was very overwhelming for you and you loved it. You sat at a table alone as people danced with one other. You looked at your flowers and smiled as you touched their soft petals.

“Would you like to dance with me, milady”, asked a familiar voice. You turned around and saw that it was the blond officiant. You smiled at him and said, “I am not a good dancer though. You may want to dance with someone else”

He smiled and said, “I can… lead you though. It would be an honour for me to dance with you milady”. Then he offered his hand to you. You couldn’t say no to that sweet request so, you took his hand and got up. He gently placed his hand on your waist and started to lead you. Even when you stamped his foot a few times, he just smiled but didn’t complain. You liked how gentle he was with you. He had a rose flower in his tuxedo pocket, which was from the bouquet he caught earlier.

“The bouquet symbolises the good fortune for the people who caught it”, you say as you carefully touch his rose.

“I didn’t believe these kind of stuff but, here I am, dancing with the most beautiful bridesmaid, so i guess its true after all”, he replied as he looked at you. You blushed as you slightly tapped his shoulder and said, “Cheesy aren’t you” to which he said, “It’s just a spoon of it. If you spend time with me, you’ll get to know how much more cheesy I can be”, he said confidently. You really liked this confident side of his. So contrast to him crying in the hallway.

"Very confident huh. So would you like me to think of you as the cry baby officiant or would you tell me your name”, you said for which he pouted and replied, “That’s not true...totally.... Well, the name is Sanji, milady”

“Oh! So… Sanji, the ladies’ man”, you said and he scoffed.

“I wish”, he sighed then continued, “So, do you want me to think of you as the beautiful bridesmaid or would you give me your name”

“You know what, I kinda like it when you say that I’m beautiful. So, why not stick with that”, you replied making him whine. He of course continued to laugh with you though.

“Y/N, the name is Y/N, so stop whining”, you said to him making his face glow with happiness.

“Y/N, such a beautiful name for a beautiful lady”, he said, which made you realise why the girls compared to you two before.

You both talked as you danced and then exchanged your phone numbers. You smiled thinking of how you got into this.

You both really were into each other from the beginning itself. Fate was so... Unpredicted. It can bring two individuals together at one place, make them fall in love.

‘Who would have thought that the cry baby weirdo would become your husband in 3 years from now’

XOXOXOXOXOXO

I hope you liked it! Please forgive me for any mistakes.

Did you like the story or the song. Tell me how you feel by giving me a Like, Comment and Reblog. Thanks for Reading!

Please do refrain from commenting the spoilers please! I dont know much about Christian weddings, so if the order was a bit wrong, please forgive me

The Gloxinia flowers were mentioned by @nakunakunomi​  in her valentines event where she wrote for Sanji (Clickable) you can also see how the flowers look, in her post. I really loved the flower she mentioned and its meaning was hella romantic. I just felt like there were a lot of flowers other than Red roses and Lilies. Of couse they are beautiful, but we need to explore and look at different types of flowers too.

If you are wondering what Baby romantica flowers look like here, I took these image from google. I just fell in love with these roses and they have been in my favourites from a long time. Their name itself is so romantic and they look precious.

[jalapeno-princess]

Coffee For Your Head

(He’s so pretty)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst with some fluff and a happy ending 

Word Count: 7.1K

Summary: After an exhausting and frustrating day at work, all you want to do is go home and fall apart in your boyfriend’s arms. However, a comment that is meant to be a joke turns in to a full blown argument between you and Mark; causing you to storm out of your shared apartment. 

A/N: Hey guys, so this week has been pretty shitty. I had to pay $700 to get my car fixed only to have someone steal my muffler (Hawaii is not the paradise everyone paints it out to be) but I’m not letting it get in the way of my life. Anyways, this imagine was inspired by that deathbed coffee for your head song but literally just the first verse (the song is actually so sad). I also have a couple of surprises for you all! The last and final chapter of crazy little thing called love is in the works, and I’ve decided to make a part 2 to “nobody compares to you” by popular request, so stay tuned. I’m also a few followers away from 700 that’s crazy!! Anyways, happy reading!

Never in the four years of your relationship has Mark ever felt like he didn’t want to look at you. Hell, there was never a time he wasn’t looking at you. From the moment Mark first laid his eyes on you, he was captivated by your beauty in ways he has never experienced before. 

Some days, he had to force himself to stop admiring your breathtaking looks so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. After what took weeks of building up the courage to ask you out on a date, it didn’t take him long to realize that you were just as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside. He honestly felt as if he was the luckiest man on earth to be the one who was extremely blessed to love you. 

Unfortunately, the two of you had your first actual fight just a few hours prior and he honestly wishes he could go back in time and keep his mouth shut so that the two of you wouldn’t have been in this disheartening situation. Although there were a few times the two of you would disagree and have a couple quarrels here and there, this was the first time you actually stormed out of your shared apartment out of anger and frustration. 

He was well aware that he went too far tonight; Mark knew you like the back of his hand. Just by your posture and the way you slammed your bag down on the counter, he had a feeling something bad must have happened at work. You were a registered nurse at your local hospital and as much as you wish you could say being a nurse was everything you could ever hope and pray it would be; it was quite the opposite. 

Sure, you had the honor of witnessing many miracles such as pregnancies, watching patients win their battles against cancer—just being able to help anyone in need were a few perks that came with being a nurse. However, being a nurse also came with great responsibility. There were lives on the line and just the simplest mistake; giving a patient the wrong medication, scheduling the wrong surgery or assigning the wrong diet could really affect the lives of those you were in charge of. 

Being a nurse was very exhausting; you were constantly on your feet for eight to ten hours a day and there were many people, either the patients or family members of the patients who always felt the need to take out their stress and worry on you. Tonight had been one of the most tiring and stressful days at work and there was nothing more you wanted to do than to change in to your pajamas and fall asleep in your boyfriend’s warm embrace. It was obvious Mark had other plans. 

Normally, whenever you came home so distraught and obviously shaken up, Mark would do whatever he could to comfort you and make you feel better. He didn’t understand what got over him tonight though—what started as a joke about you leaving the dirty dishes from earlier that morning in the sink as his way to cheer you up turned in to hours of yelling at each other and getting at each other’s throats. 

You told him he was a selfish, egotistical asshole who didn’t care about anyone but himself and he called you an aggressive bitch who takes things too seriously. As soon as he saw tears falling from your cheeks while you yanked at your purse and your keys that were still on the kitchen counter before storming outside, Mark was well aware that he fucked up. You weren’t a sensitive person; you did cry occasionally when work could be too much for you to handle, when you felt home sick being 3,000 miles away from your family or if there was a sad scene in a movie the two of you watched together then yeah—you would shed some tears, but it was only natural. 

When you guys did argue—if ever—you did tear up out of irritation; but you never allowed Mark to see how much your little disputes would hurt you because you didn’t want to feel vulnerable. He may have been your boyfriend, but you didn’t want him—or anyone for that matter, taking advantage of how timorous and fragile you were as a person. It took him a while to process that you actually left. He was too focused on the fight; there were so many things he believed he wanted to say to you in the heat of the moment, but he knew it was best that he didn’t. 

Now that he was all alone in the apartment, he felt like complete and utter shit. He knew the entire fight could have been prevented if he had just kept his mouth shut. What came over him that he felt the need to make such a stupid comment? You weren’t all that familiar when it came to California seeing as how you would only go out for work, with friends or with Mark. 

California was different at night; it’s was more dangerous and scarier, even for your boyfriend who has been living there his entire life. Seeing as how your family lived in New York and you hardly made any friends in the couple years of living in the relatively sunny state other than a couple coworkers, he had no idea where you could have run off to. For all he knew, you were at a bar getting drunk off of your ass and someone could have been taking advantage of you—or worse, you could have been driving and got in to a car accident because of how frustrated you were. 

From what he experienced with being in the passenger seat while you drove, he had to admit you weren’t exactly the best driver. You had two of the worst qualities a driver could have—impatience and anger. Normally, you were calm and collective. Even if life as a nurse could get very hectic and frantic at times, not once in your three years of working at the hospital did you show that you were on the verge of a mental breakdown. 

Mark never understood how you did it—but you were very good at managing your time and completing your tasks while under pressure. Your driving however was a completely different story. As much as he could only hope and pray you were somewhere safe, it wasn’t enough to stop the many negative thoughts and scenarios that his conscience came up with. Out of force of habit, he turned on the news to make sure nothing bad happened to you—God, why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut? If he just gave up his pride and took in to consideration the stress you were under, you’d be cuddling in his arms right now while the two of you watch reruns of Cake Boss—but instead, you were out driving in the freezing cold, alone and angry. He had no idea what he should do; even if he were to give in and admit his faults first, what good would it do? You were just as stubborn as he was. 

Knowing your headstrong tendencies, there was a big chance you would leave his messages unread and let his calls go to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you though, if it were the other way around and you were the one trying to get in touch with him, Mark would’ve ignored your attempts entirely. His guilty conscience got the best of him only after ten minutes; he knew there was no way he’d be able to go to sleep without finding out your whereabouts.

Mark: Hey. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: I’m sure you’re still mad at me and my apologies probably mean jack shit to you right now but just know that I am really fucking sorry. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: You don’t have to return my calls, but do you think you could at least let me know that you’re safe? 11:58 p.m.

Mark: I didn’t mean anything I said—you know me better than I know myself baby. I would never do or say anything to purposely hurt you. Fuck, the last thing I ever want to do is upset you y/n. I’m sorry I’ve made you so sad. 12:03 p.m.

Mark: I love you so much y/n. Please come home soon. 12:03 p.m.

He tossed his phone somewhere on the floor before releasing a frustrating groan—where could you have gone? A lot of places were closed at this time of hour and he decided that since you were driving, there was no way you could be drinking. Any club or bar was immediately crossed off of his list. There was also no way you’d go back to the hospital; it was painfully obvious that something occurred during your shift that made your mood sour—so you probably didn’t want to get near the establishment until you had to return back to work in the morning. 

Shit, that’s right. 

You had another shift in less than eight hours, God, Mark really felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Knowing that there was a huge chance he wouldn’t be hearing from you any time soon, he decided to set up camp in the living room just in case you came back home and wanted to go straight to bed. He was also secretly hoping that you read his messages and forgave him; or at least felt a little less infuriated with him. 

No matter how much he tried to take his mind off of you, there was nothing that could distract him. None of the many video games he owned nor the new unsolved mysteries series Netflix had to offer could ease his unsettling nerves. Something inside of Mark was telling him to go out and look for you, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Honestly, he wouldn’t even know where to start. California was huge—he’d probably drive in circles for hours. 

The idea of getting in contact with his friends also popped in to his mind; you’ve grown close to his group of friends over the course of your relationship to the point where you could consider them all family. However, you were the kind of person who hated being a burden to others. You also didn’t want to involve anyone in your personal business unless you really had to. 

All he could do was lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling; growing more and more irritated with himself as the minutes went by. Your disheartened facial expression was imprinted in the back of his mind—this was the first time you looked at him in a way other than lovingly and with so much adoration in your eyes. He hated it; hated himself even more. 

He just really wanted you home safe. 

Your boyfriend had no idea how long he was waiting for you; minutes felt like hours as he continued to lie on the couch, doing nothing. As soon as he heard the click of the door sound off, he abruptly sat up; not caring if he seemed too eager. He sincerely meant everything he said over text message—your health and your safety meant more to him than his stupid ego. 

His heart began to race watching you walk in; there was nothing more he wanted to do than to run over to you and pull you in to his embrace while he repeatedly apologized for everything that he said and all the hurt he made you suffer through. For his inconsiderate actions, for not running after you, for allowing his pride and wanting to be the winner of the argument get in the way. But you looked so exhausted—so tired. Your body language spoke for you; it was evident that you were probably still hurt from his words and from what he learned with past experiences, you probably just wanted to go to sleep. He was curious if you got around to reading his messages or if you listened to his many voicemails.

His heart was begging him to get up and make his way over to you, but his mind didn’t want to make matters worse. Although he wanted to fix things immediately, he was going to wait for you to take control of the situation. You slowly took off your sandals and made your way in to the kitchen. The battle going on between his mind and his heart was currently consuming his thoughts; as much as he knew it would’ve been better to continue giving you his space, his heart had other plans. 

You looked as though you saw a ghost when you heard him make his presence known and only then did Mark realize it was 2:15 in the morning. His chest hurt when he saw you tense up; he began regretting his decision. You obviously weren’t ready for reconciliation. 

“What are you still doing up?” 

You still had your back faced toward him, but he was going to take whatever he could get. Instead of continuing to ignore him, which is honestly what he felt he deserved, you actually responded to him. It had to be a good thing—right? 

“I know you’re well aware that there was no way I’d be able to go to sleep knowing you were out all by yourself this late in a city you’re not all that familiar with. Especially because I was the reason. I—I was so worried.” 

The tension in the room was thick; he was practically walking on eggshells while thinking about what to say next. You were the definition of a sensitive person and it was a trait of yours that Mark was still getting used to. It was the truth though—Mark cared about you more than he did anyone else on this hell forsaken earth. If something were to happen to you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. You were his person. That man would die for you if he had to. He found himself reaching out to you as a force of habit, but he retracted his hand as soon as he realized what he was doing. 

“Can we—can we talk?” 

You took in a deep breath and finally allowed yourself to turn around and face him. There was no way around this—you knew as you drove around that he would want to talk sooner or later. When you saw that he was still awake, you weren’t surprised. Being with him for all these years, you’ve grown to learn that Mark never allowed you to go to bed angry. He was the type to want to solve your problems before you were to fall asleep. 

The idea of you crying yourself to sleep because of something he said made his heart hurt. Only once in your entire relationship did you go to bed without listening to Mark’s apologies and it was because you didn’t want to deal with the drama any longer. He felt extremely bad that entire day though and when you arrived home that night, there was a bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite cake from your favorite bakery and a stuffed animal all sitting on the counter. 

Mark was going to make sure you knew just how sorry he was, even if it meant having to sleep on the couch tonight. You were much more calm than you were when you first stormed out. Right after the fight, you went straight to your car and sat in it for a while; allowing yourself to breathe and come to your sense before driving away. Then, you decided to go drive around the city until you pulled up to a 24-hour coffee shop. 

The exhaustion from your extremely stressful day was finally taking over you; and since you planned to stay out for at least another hour or two, you were going to need something that would keep you from falling asleep—and what better than a caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso? To your delight, you were the only customer there; you didn’t want anyone witnessing your breakdown as you cried quietly to yourself while remembering Mark’s harsh words that he directed towards you. 

Mark was the only good thing going for you in your life at the moment; all you wanted to do was collapse in his arms and have him comfort you—you wanted him to run his fingers through your hair while you were perched up on his lap, hiding your face in the juncture of his neck. Every single time you had a rough day, whether it was because of work, or something else going on in your life; but your boyfriend was really good at taking your mind off of any problems, worries or negative thoughts that you had. 

Coming home, only to hear him complain about how you didn’t wash your cereal bowl made your blood boil. You were scolded by your manager for almost giving a patient the wrong medication and it was the mistake of your colleague in training—yet you didn’t have the heart to confess that it wasn’t your fault. You understood how intimidating it was for first and second year residents; you’ve been there before, so you were fine taking the blame for something that you didn’t do. However, hearing your manager insult you and claim that you were inadequate and had no idea what you were doing made you feel as if it were true. 

The last thing anyone in the medical field wanted to hear was that they weren’t good at their job. You didn’t go through so many years of crying over how hard clinicals were on top of pulling all-nighters every single week there was a test or exam just for someone to make you feel like you had no clue on how to complete the tasks given to you. This was the first time you were scolded for something that you didn’t think was all that bad; the medication the patient was meant to take helped with soothing a sore throat. The one that the medical resident gave them had to do with decreasing heartburn—it wasn’t like it was a life or death situation. 

Mark never did anything to upset you purposely; sure, he had a tendency to leave the toilet seat up every now and then and sometimes he would get crumbs all over the couch, but that was as bad as it would get. When he called you a bitch, it genuinely felt like a slap to the face. It physically hurt and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched in anger as he continued to say such hurtful things to you. At one point while you were drinking your coffee, it became bitter—which was odd considering how sweet it actually was and you found yourself no longer wanting to finish it. 

Your argument with Mark was just taking up the entirety of your thought process that you were growing agitated with anything and everything. After reading his text messages and listening to a few of his voicemails, you didn’t know how to react. Mark Tuan was never the type to admit to his wrongdoings; he had so much pride and such a big ego—but not once did he ever use it towards you. You’ve watched the way he became ruthless while playing video games and said some things to his friends that you considered to be a joke; something he said to throw them off while being focused on winning. 

Even at work, if he did something wrong, he’d never admit to his faults. That’s just who he was; so for him to say that he was wrong—that he didn’t mean a thing that he said and he shouldn’t have upset you at all gently pulled on your heartstrings and you found yourself throwing away the remainder of your beverage and making your way back to the apartment. 

You weren’t sure what was going to happen once you were to walk in the door; he might have apologized, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was going to talk to you or apologize again in person. Your mind would not let you get any rest; it was currently in a battle with your heart—your stupid, stupid heart that belonged to the man that made you feel like you were wrong for having a bad day. 

That—you had no right to lash out on him. You wished he would have heard you out first before attacking you for something so small and unnecessary; he could’ve washed the damn dishes himself if he was so bothered. But your heart wouldn’t stop telling you to forgive him. His job could get extremely frustrating sometimes. It might not have been as time consuming or energy draining as yours, but there were times where he would need you to hold him every now and then because his executives expected so much out of him. 

He probably had just as much of a hard day as you did—maybe he came home pissed off from something that happened at work and noticing that there was dishes in the sink that he knew were there from this morning got on his nerves. You felt like he could have handled it better though and you couldn’t help but think like he was growing tired of having to be your backbone; having to comfort you almost every single day on top of his own problems. Your mind wouldn’t stop coming up with all these thoughts and lies you knew weren’t true and you were well aware that it was best to start heading back to your place knowing that you had to be up again in less than five hours. 

Seeing him practically leap at the sight of you walking through the door sent so many emotions to your chest. You hated any time spent away from him—there were occasions where your schedules would collide and the only time you would see him was right before bed or if you were coming home from a graveyard shift while he was getting ready to leave for his job. 

The dried tears on his cheek confused you; he was the one who caused all of the drama and he had no problem making you feel like you were overreacting and being too sensitive. You were upset with yourself for wanting to walk over towards him and wrap your arms around him—but it was only natural for you to want to do so. 

For the entire duration of your shift, he was all you could think about; the thought of Mark was what kept you sane throughout the entire day. No matter how upset he made you, he was still the love of your life—your best friend, your favorite person, your soulmate. One fight wasn’t going to tarnish or falter your feelings for him in any way. 

Arguments were considered healthy in a relationship; sure, you could have done without the harsh words being thrown back and forth to one another, but you realized in the coffee shop that you would rather bicker and disagree with Mark every now and then for the rest of your life, then to have a relationship filled with constant joy and laughter with someone else. 

It was obvious that he was probably just as tired as you were, but the thought of him staying up worrying about where you were and waiting for you to arrive back home filled your stomach with butterflies. You made your way towards the dining table and took a seat; you waited for him to make the first move because you didn’t know where to start. 

“Did you—uh—happen to get my texts?” 

You decided to keep your gaze on the cup of coffee he placed in front of you; you didn’t even notice him heating some up for you. Your boyfriend was very observant of the way that you practically lived on coffee; on the days you had morning shifts, he would set an alarm to wake up before you and prepared all the things you needed so that you had less to worry about—coffee being your number one necessity. If you were to look up at him, you were well aware that you would probably cry just at the thought of how considerate he was even under a negative circumstance. 

“Yes. I didn’t have a chance to read them though.” 

That was a lie. You read every single one of his messages; each message pulling on your heartstrings the more you continued scrolling through them. Although you no longer held any anger towards Mark, you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. A part of you also wanted to hear him apologize in person rather through messages—but you felt in your gut that he would sooner or later. Honestly, you wanted to wait until you were to come home from work tomorrow afternoon so that you were well rested enough to have the right mindset if another argument broke out. 

“Oh. Well, I—For starters, I want to apologize for the way I acted towards you. I don’t know what made me say the things I did—I meant it as a joke but you obviously didn’t think it was funny and I don’t know why I expected you to. I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve it at all. I know I said some really cruel things in the heat of the moment, but I hope you know I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not a bitch nor are you over-emotional and you don’t get on my nerves. At all. I just—hearing you say those things about me sparked something inside that I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me. It took every bone in my body not to run after you. I’ll admit, sure—it was because I wanted to give you your space, but I was also very prideful and still so irritated with the entire ordeal. I regret every single thing I said and did tonight as soon as I realized just how scary it is being out late at night by yourself. I’ve never hated myself more than I did in these last two hours worrying about where you could have gone and what you were doing. I couldn’t stop thinking about your broken expression as you grabbed your things and stormed out the door.” 

His voice quickly grew shaky; you knew he was on the verge of crying again just by the tone of his voice. For some reason, you found yourself giving in to him and finally looked up. It felt like a slap to the face; seeing him with the most heart wrenching frown—not once in your relationship did you ever question Mark’s love for you and right now, hearing that he beat himself up for the last few hours while he was going crazy thinking of the many possibilities that something bad happened to you made you come to the realization that the beautiful man in front of you loved you more than you could ever fathom in to words. 

“I know you’re tired from work—I don’t know why I didn’t just keep my mouth shut. If I could, I’d go back and prevent this entire night from happening. I was so fucking scared y/n. You don’t know California all that well; you could have taken a wrong turn and ended up on your way to Las Vegas—your car could have broken down in the middle of nowhere and someone could have came and—I don’t even want to think about it. I’m sorry for hurting you—I know you’re well aware that I would rather sit and suffer through listening to Yugyeom and BamBam screaming while playing MarioKart than to hurt you in any possible way. You don’t have to forgive me. Hell, scream at me; yell at me, hit me, do whatever you want to me. Just know that I’m extremely sorry, and I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get you to trust me again.” 

He hesitantly stood up and didn’t even spare a glance at you before making his way back into the living room. You were upset that he didn’t give you any time to respond, but at the same time—you were extremely grateful. Right after he left you all alone at the table, you allowed the tears to flow freely from your eyelids as his apology continuously replayed in your mind. Whatever exhaustion you felt from earlier that disappeared right after you abruptly left the apartment was quickly returning—though, you didn’t know if you were physically tired or just mentally drained at this point. 

You gave yourself a couple of minutes alone just to plan out what you were going to do. Going to sleep sounded like the most rational decision to make; especially because you were meant to wake up in less than four hours to work another long, grueling and tiresome ten-hour shift. But you didn’t want to go to bed on bad terms with Mark. If he was willing to give up his pride and raise the white flag first just to make sure you were well aware that he was extremely regretful and apologetic of his actions, then it was only righteous of you to forgive him. You got up from your seat and put away the cup of coffee before taking in a deep breath and making your way in to the living room. 

The lights were off; but the lights from the hallway were still dimly lit enough for you to notice that Mark was lying down on the couch with a pillow and a blanket wrapped around him. This was the first time since you moved in together that you found him outside on the couch. A small smirk raised on your face—your boyfriend was always so courteous and considerate. 

He began tossing and turning in order to find a sleeping position he would be comfortable in. Your couch was pretty spacious and the two of you have slept on it countless times while watching movies together, but you were sure he was probably bummed by your response or lack thereof. You walked over to the end of the couch and gently tapped his thigh with your knee to get his attention. 

“What are you doing?” 

Although there was barely enough light to even see his figure, you were able to see him shrug nonchalantly at your question—as if you already knew the answer. 

“You’re still mad at me. I don’t want to make matters even worse. I’m giving you your space—“ You surprised both yourself and your boyfriend by flopping on top of him, earning yourself a soft whimper. Nonetheless, his hands made their way down towards your lower back without hesitance. His heart was racing against your chest; you had a feeling he wasn’t expecting for you to forgive him tonight let alone throw yourself in top of him. The two of you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound that could be heard was your breaths and his fingers tapping lightly on your skin. He placed a couple of gentle kisses on your jaw and gripped at your chin; lifting it up to make eye contact with you. 

“I lied. I did read the messages and I cried like a baby—you ass. Okay, I’m gonna start off by admitting that there were some things I also said that were out of line and that I did not mean. You are not a bad boyfriend at all Mark—you are the best boyfriend—hell, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. A lot of what I said was because I was so pissed off at you. I had such a terrible day at work. I was scolded by my manager twice for things I didn’t do, I had to work two extra hours to help out because three people called in sick, I was thrown up on and my break was cut short because we were so low staffed today and everyone in California all seemed to have kidney malfunctions on the same damn day. All I wanted to do was fall apart in your arms and have you comfort me like you always do—but then I come home and you make a comment about how lazy I am and I just—I cracked. Normally you’re always so good at picking up on the fact that I’ve had shit days; so, for you to make me feel even worse when all I wanted to do was find solace in you—it made me so fucking sad. And then I went out and drove for a while but I came to the realization that it wasn’t a good idea for me to roam around in a city I’m not familiar with while I was fuming so I went to a coffee shop and just thought about everything.” 

Feeling his grip on your hips tighten only made it evident that your words had an effect on him. Sure, you were telling your side of the story and you had every right to—Mark deserved to hear what an asshole he was towards you—the last person in his life that he ever wanted to hurt. But he could just picture you sitting in your car; sobbing and blaming yourself like you’ve done multiple times in the past even if it wasn’t your fault. You were the kind of person who had a tendency to think you were the reason why things went wrong. 

Usually, it was in situations at work; but he couldn’t help but feel as if you were beating yourself up about the argument that could have honestly been prevented if he observed your posture and body language and just kept his mouth shut. You wiped away a tear that fell from his cheek before placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“I wanted to continue giving you your space, but I had so many negative thoughts running through my mind. I was so, so worried about you. Baby I am so fucking sorry—“ you playfully pinched his cheek before covering his mouth with your hand. 

“No more apologies okay? Our argument is in the past. I just want you to know what happened and why I decided to return back so soon. If I’m being honest with you, I was planning on staying out until I had to head in to work again but sleeping in my car is not the most easiest thing to do. You hurt me Mark—I know it wasn’t purposely but for a few minutes, I actually contemplated on staying at a hotel or something. I didn’t want to see you for the rest of the night and I hated that I felt like that—even if it was for a split second. I always want you Mark. Every second—every minute—every hour spent away from you is spent thinking about you. What you’re doing, if you ate your meals on time, how you’re doing, if you miss me the way I can’t stop missing you, when I’ll get to see you next—then I got your message and they just solidified the love you have for me. Not that I ever questioned it once in our three years of dating. I’m sorry about the dishes—I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself these last few days but please Mark—I’m not acting this way on purpose. I’m so tired. You’re the only reason why I don’t end up in a mental institution at the rate I’m going. I’ll try to be better okay? I love you too by the way—so much.” 

The longer you spoke, the more tears fell from his eyes knowing how you must’ve felt so unhappy while overthinking the argument and just your entire day in general and he just felt so angry with himself. It was one thing for him to think about how much the argument must have bothered you, but it was another thing to hear you confess what had happened at work before coming home to a nagging and complaining boyfriend. 

He felt sick to his stomach and it was even more upsetting because he didn’t have the right words to explain just how sorry he was nor did he know what to do to make it known that he was regretful of the entire situation. Your boyfriend didn’t give you any time to prepare; he cupped your face in his hands and roughly connected your lips together. His lips were chapped and dry and tasted like salt from the tears. However, his movements were dominant and quick; his desire and need to kiss you was all that was on his mind at the moment. 

He wanted you to feel how much he loved you and how remorseful he was through the kiss. His tongue pushed down all but gently against your bottom lip before bringing it in between his teeth. The kiss continued to deepen the longer your tongues battled for dominance; any anger you held for your boyfriend was completely gone at this point. As much as you loved the way his lips melded perfectly against yours, you were finally feeling the wave of exhaustion re-enter your body and to Mark’s disappointment, you pulled away and placed your forehead against his.

“Babeeeee—“

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

You got up from off of him and reached your hand out in order to help him up. Mark was the definition of a clingy boyfriend—everyone who knew the two of you both witnessed and heard just how possessive he was over you and how he constantly had to be touching on you. But nobody ever complained—it was so adorable. He wrapped his arms around your stomach and placed his head on your shoulder while letting you guid the two of you towards your shared bedroom. You attempted to escape his hold in order to move around freely, but he had other plans and continued to cling to you like a sloth.

“Babe, I have to get ready for bed—“

“You can get ready while I hold you.”

“I can’t take off my scrubs with your arms around me.”

“I guess that means I have to take them off for you—it would be my pleasure baby.” You rolled your eyes and gently shoved him while grabbing one of his shirts and making your way towards the bathroom. 

“Baby?” You hummed in curiosity and gingerly smiled at him. 

“It’s already 3 in the morning. Maybe you should call in sick. I don’t like the thought of you going to work with barely any amount of sleep and I know we’ve moved on from our argument—but it’s only human for you to think about it again. I don’t want you getting yelled at again if your manager senses that you’re tired. Plus, you’ve been working so much this last month. I know you love your job, but it’s okay to take a well deserved rest once in a while—“ 

He had a point. Besides Mark, work was your ultimate priority. Sometimes, you put the hospital before your own health and private life. There were occasions where Mark would invite you out with him and his friends, but a lot of the time, you would either be at work or sometimes be called in as you started getting ready. Working so much led to over exhaustion every now and then but no matter how sick you felt—whether it was a cold, the flu or nausea, you would still find yourself tending to patients. It was something Mark wasn’t all too fond of; especially because your boyfriend seemed to be the only one genuinely concerned about your well-being. 

As soon as you finished your nighttime routine, you wasted no time making your way towards where Mark was sitting on the bed and crawled on top of him. He gave you a tired yet toothy grin and pulled you close to his chest. His hands returned to your lower waist and he even playfully pinched your butt; earning himself a slap to the shoulder. You brought one of your hands in to his hair while cupping his cheek lovingly with the other. 

“I know you don’t want me apologizing anymore, but I just want to say sorry one last time. I can’t promise we won’t argue again—we’re both stubborn as hell—but I promise to be more patient; more understanding. And I don’t want you leaving—you really did worry me baby. I love you so much y/n. I’m sorry if what I said earlier made you question my love for you—but I love you. I’ve loved you for the last three years and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.” You placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth before smashing your cheek against his chest. 

“I love you too. A lot more than I get around to telling you. Fine. If I stay home tomorrow, you owe me.” He gently pulled away from you and began wiggling his brows. 

“Oh, and what do you have in mind? You know babe, we don’t need to wait till tomorrow, I can give you what you deserve right now. I’ll take such good care of you—“

“I don’t mean sex you horny ass, I meant you make me breakfast in bed or prepare a bath for me. If I’m calling in sick, I want a relaxing day off.” He gave you an adorable pout while playfully hiding his face in between your breasts and whining softly. 

“Making love can be relaxing. Come on Y/n, it’s been almost a week since I had your pretty lips around my cock. I’m sex deprived. As much as I prefer you topping me and riding my cock like the professional cowgirl you are, I’ll take the lead. I’ll eat your pussy out until you cry—fuck you till you scream. Might as well you call out for the entire week. I think you and I both know angry makeup sex is the best sex. Don’t lie y/n, you miss having me inside of you just as much as I miss feeling your tight walls wrapped around me—“

“I think I made a mistake telling you to come in here. Go back to the couch.”

[princeanxious]

Part One; “A Wounded Snake Lies Still”

A continuation fic in the au i built from this art piece I did and this post that I’d written that inspired this whole idea. I don’t know how many parts there will be, but the plan is for it to be hurt/comfort? It’s just that the comfort comes in small increments, but I promise the ending will be happy!

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Ships: mentions of past healthy Anxceit, start of story begins w/ analogical, end goal is analoceit! Side royality, Remus is lowkey Aro.

Minor Trigger Warnings: in no particular order.. brief mentions of painful memory loss, brief food mention, Remus and Deceit as sympathetic characters in general, accidental revealing of a secret-Remus feeling awful about it and Deceit being completely forgiving on it. Deceit being sorta selfish but also being very selfless without realize it. Deceit lying when he speaks/ backwards talk.

Serious Trigger Warnings: (slight spoilers) Deceit ignores his own distress in favor of keeping up a nonchalant act around the others, and doesn’t process his inner emotions in a healthy way. Deceit repressing years of his own resurfacing emotional trauma that originally came from his separation from Virgil, Deceit also briefly relives said trauma in the fic and pretends nothing is wrong even though something Really Is. Patton has minor empath abilities in this au and accidentally gets hit with a ride of very negative emotions that Deceit is already internally feeling when he touches Deceit.

(Let me know if I need to tag something else!)

Summary: Virgil’s missing memories have always been a touchy subject. After Remus and Deceit gain their acceptance of from the Light Sides and Thomas, Deceit still seems to have a few secrets to hide. If you asked him, he’d tell you it was for the best that he kept them. Partially concealing the truth was a slippery slope, indeed. But, could you really blame him? When Virgil was dating Logan and finally seemed happy again? To him, All the repression of his own trauma was worth Virgil’s happiness. Their years of love were lost with Virgil’s memories of the past, and there was no way in hell Deceit was about to jeopardize Virgil’s current stability now, not when the only person at fault for losing was Deceit himself.(or, was it? He’s never sure anymore. Trauma is a fickle beast.) Well, one slip up from Remus is all it takes before Deceit finds himself faced with that exact dilema fast approaching, and he finds he is less than prepared to face the music..

[[MORE]]

“Ugh, gross. In front of my deodorant?? Could you guys like. Not?? Be romance-y in the living room?? You two remind me of when Dee and Virgie were dating.” Remus grumbled offhandedly, too tired to deal with his twin’s particularly loud and loving attention directed towards Thomas’s literal representation of the heart this late into the afternoon.

They’d been loudly and shamelessly flirting back and forth from across the room while everyone set up for movie night, Roman in the living room with the others and Patton in the kitchen with Deceit making snacks. It was only seconds later that the duke realized his slip up as everything and everyone around clattered to a halt, the other sides turning stare at him in confusion.

Three years. It had taken Deceit three long, painstaking years and counting to distance himself from the years of memories he’d spent in bliss, to separate his mind from the heartbreak of losing his only love. Three years to come to terms with the fact that his only love now held no memories of the time they spent together, to accept that his love now deeply loved another.

Three years to come to terms with the fact that Virgil would never know what it was like to watch helplessly as his love writhed in pain. To watch as The Line ripped the memories from his love’s very being, forcing Virgil into a clean slate. Three years to come to terms that Virgil would never remember.

Three years of patience and heartbreak and anguish and lies, telling himself that it’d be okay, telling himself that he would move on and heal eventually. Three years of painstakingly separating himself from the narrative he and Virgil used to share, and ensuring that Virgil never had any inkling to what had been of his past. It was the only secret Deceit ever asked Remus to keep.

Rest assured, he’d tried to respark Virgil’s memories many times in the first few months after Virgil crossed over The Line from Dark side to Light, having ultimately crossed for good. It’d only led to fight after fight, driving a wedge further and further between them with each escalated argument. With a bleeding heart, he’d eventually given in, and stopped any further attempts. After all, each attempt only seemed to fuel Virgil with irritation. It had been clear then, that whatever they’d had, was never going to be again.

Three years it’d been. He thought he’d nearly healed, really. Most days he found he could exist and interact with the others and not be reminded of the past, and be comforted that he himself would not be a reminder to the past. Repression had always been his strong suit, though, conciously or not.

The Line had diminished as of late, after Thomas had really begun accepting Deceit and Remus. They could cross The Line for long amounts of time now, and mostly be fine. Occasionally they suffered from a bout of fatigue when disagreements with the others briefly turned sour, feeling The Line tugging back at them insistently. It never lasted for long, but there was always that underlying worry that The Line would finally snap them back into the dark for good if one of them made a final wrong move. The Light Sides didn’t know about The Line, not even Virgil remembered stumbling away from it after all that had happened. And well, if it were up to Deceit? They would never find out about it. Too many questions, too many messy answers.

Three years later, Deceit finds his heart splintering once more, an ache sinking into his chest that he knows Patton feels as they stand nearby one another. Memories flood in harshly, a deep painful longing resurging from the depths of his mind as it always did when faced with his reoccurring trauma sinking its claws into his psyche.

It’s only been seconds, but the silence is starting to feel heavy. Instead of moving on from the previous comment, Remus glances to Deceit, eyes pleading and devastated by having made his mistake, breaking the only promise to Dee he’d ever been seriously asked to keep. And Deceit knows he must do what he does best to save face, there is still time to redirect the carnage.

“Remus, please don’t refrain from spreading lies, that’s certainly not my job, after all.” He teases lightly, keeping his tone precisely on the edge of amused confusion, though his eyes hold an understanding none of the others know to read for. “Next you won’t be telling me that your favorite animal is a squid, not an octopus. Not your worst try at shock humor, yes?”

Remus catches on after a millisecond, drawing out a full cackle. “Sorry, not sorry! You should’ve seen the looks on your faces though! Priceless!! Who knew a shitty joke falling so flat would shock everyone so good!”

Their reactions held the desired effect. Quickly, everyone around the room seemed to relax, Roman even firing back his own playful quip to further lighten the mood. In the end, it was just a bump in conversation, something Remus caused every once in a while as everyone adjusted and Remus learned. Not a single step amiss that wasn’t already expectedly out of line.

Still, he’d have to talk to Remus in private later. Remus was just as sensitive to rejection as Roman was, and paired with his inherently intrusive thoughts, it would come to no surprise if Remus already thought Deceit now hated him. He didn’t, it’d been an accident, and Remus’s first ever slip up in three years since making the promise. Even if Dee had been mad about the slip up, he wouldn’t have had any right to be. He’d be sure Remus was the first person he sought to soothe when they got a free moment alone, it wasn’t right to let those kinds of thoughts fester.

Remus first, Virgil next, as it wasn’t quite crisis averted. He could feel Virgil’s eyes on his back from the living room. He denied his bleeding heart the closure of meeting Virgil’s gaze, of sharing his expression. He was too vulnerable, even now the anxious side could read his tells far too well, often without even realizing why. There was no doubt Virgil would try and talk to him later about it, and no matter how good the terms they were on with each other now were, Deceit knew the conversation would be a rough one. Virgil knows he has missing memories, and only recently had he accepted Remus and Deceit’s vague answers when he’d asked lightly about his past. It was at least him acknowledging they had the answers to the past he doesn’t remember.

If he wasn’t careful, each and every brick in the wall that Deceit had carefully worked to build up in the past three years could crumble right before his eyes, leaving him stripped emotionally defenseless, his trauma bared for all to see. And who knew what the others would do if they knew so much? What would they think of him then? Deceit inwardly shivered at the thought. It would not come to that.

Slipping into the nonchalant act was an easy card to play, it being his strong suit and most comforting form of security, a version of his own little lie of omission to soothe the bumpy situation over.

What he didn’t account for, was Patton gently reaching to touch his arm when everyone else had settled and their attentions returned to their tasks at hand. Deceit fought against his immediate urge to pull away, knowing the moral side just preferred connection through touch when addressing another, and instead looked up to meet Patton with a questioning gaze.

Whatever Patton was about to say died on his lips as he suddenly seemed to reflect an absolutely heartbroken expression, tears welling up in his eyes. Pain and sorrow and surprise seemed to seep into the other’s expression, warring for dominance amongst the primary confusion. It was only then that Deceit realized that Patton was still touching him, his bare arm with an equally bare hand, to be exact. The memory that Patton bore minor empath abilities that were tied into his existence as the representation of Thomas’s morality and feelings sunk in two seconds too late.

Direct skin to skin contact, something Deceit sought often to avoid in general nowadays anyway, was a direct way for Patton to tune into another's current feelings through said abilities, often by accident. There were limits that Patton could control, of course, and Patton only ever seemed to struggle coping with that ability when faced with an overwhelming swell of emotions from the other side. And, well.. Deceit’s mind certainly hadn’t taken well to being reminded of his repressed past, seeping through his protective mental walls with all sorts of roiling negative emotions.

From self-loathing, to dread. From anger, to guilt. From longing, to grief, then to depression, and finally apathy. It just couldn’t be helped that Deceit, a master of disguise and deception, had had three whole years to perfect the act that hid it from the outside and controlled it all from within.

Carefully, Deceit pulled Patton’s hand from his arm, and gently tucked it against the moral side’s chest. Still, he keeps his gloved hand there, letting Patton grasp it with both hands to ground himself after such an emotional ride.

“Deep breaths, dear Patton. Whatever isn’t the matter?” He asks gently, still playing into his act but his eyes plead a different story. ‘Not now,’ they say, ‘I will tell you, but not here,’ they beg. Patton nods slowly, and Deceit carefully wipes away Patton tears. In a move he knows he might regret later if it raises questions, he slips his hat off to gently plop onto the moral side’s head, and gently presses against the others clothed shoulder with his own in a show of comforting affection. It has the desired effect of distracting Patton and lightening his mood, Patton’s lingering upset masked by a watery smile only they can share. Deceit silently mourns the loss of his safety blanket, but accepts that a few minutes of feeling vulnerable while comforting Patton is a good trade to escape having his distress found out. He couldn’t have the other sides cornering him into explaining why Patton had suddenly begun crying without reason. It certainly wasn’t the fact that he felt guilty for Patton having experienced second hand an echo of his painfully raw emotions, no, not at all.

Thankfully their little scene goes unnoticed by the rest of the preoccupied sides, who are far too busy bickering over the movies they want to watch. Well, unnoticed by all but the one who sits to the side. Said side keeps an unconcerned but intrigued eye on the two in the kitchen, glancing over every time he adjusts his glasses to avoid suspicion. Logan says nothing, but knows he has questions for his dearest Virgil when movie night is over. He can only hope that the answers Virgil gives will not raise more questions.

(..Unfortunately, they do raise more questions than answers.. However, they now know exactly who has the answers they seek. It’s only a matter of getting those answers that is a task far harder than they’d ever expected it to be.)

To be continued..

[rushingheadlong]

Hey everyone. I’m sorry for not replying to the messages and asks I’ve gotten over the last day. I don’t have the spoons for individual responses right now, but I just want to thank all of you for your kind words and support.

I’m going to dip for a few more days. The queue is running, posts are scheduled, etc. etc. If you don’t want to read this whole post, like I said yesterday anon is staying turned off and if you need to contact me about Tim Weekend you can send me an ask off anon and just note that you want it answered privately and I’ll do that.

As much as I’d like to just leave this whole mess alone, I want to better address the accusation from that anon yesterday morning because I don’t know if I was clear enough at the time - but also because I’ve been keeping quiet about a lot of harassment that I’ve been dealing with for months now, and I’m done pretending that this hasn’t been going on.

 DO NOT REBLOG THIS POST Anyone who reblogs this is getting immediately blocked.

First, I want to reiterate that I have no idea what’s going on with this user at all. I have never followed them, I have only ever had that one interaction with them on tumblr last summer, and I don’t read comment threads on AO3 (especially for other people’s stories) to know what’s going on over there.

But I do not approve of bullying and I don’t approve of harassing anyone in this fandom. I’m really not sure how I got caught up in this mess at all but I would hope that the contributions I have made to this fandom have shown that I’m not a bully. I fully acknowledge that I can be prickly and curt at times, but I would never attack someone like this user has been attacked.

Second, like I said yesterday, please don’t harass this user about any of this. I am deadly serious about that. I don’t know if they’re even aware that people have been doing this and it’s not fair to put the blame for other people’s actions on them.

And with all that out of the way, I’d like to explain what I’ve been going through because I think trying to keep quiet about this for so long was a mistake on my part. Hopefully this puts my answer from yesterday into better context and, if there are multiple people sending these messages, maybe they’ll realize the cumulative effect that they’ve been having and stop.

The long and short of it is that since my one interaction with this user last summer I have gotten numerous comments on AO3 and asks here demanding both to know why they were blocked and that I unblock them so they can interact with my content. Most, but not all, of these have been sent anonymously which has made it impossible to know where they’re coming from. I’ve been deleting these comments from my fics and deleting the asks without answering them because I didn’t want to add fuel to this fire or get dragged into a debate about my decisions here.

These messages have run the gamut from guilt-tripping, such as an anon ask saying “I think [user] would have really liked participating in Tim Weekend”, to openly hostile assertions that I am being a “c*nt” by keeping this user blocked. I got asks about this almost every time I turned anon on. When I explained to one person off anon that I wasn’t going to unblock this user, rather than accept that decision they have continued to send me multiple messages and leave comments demanding further explanations. Lately I think at least one person has been using post notifications to time their asks for when they knew I’d be online because I’ve been receiving these messages immediately after answering a different ask (as was the case yesterday morning).

I have been dealing with this harassment for over seven months. The stress of this has directly and drastically affected my mental health. It sounds stupid, but this was a large contributing factor to a breakdown that sent me back into therapy and onto medication to manage my anxiety better.

Again, this is simply over me having blocked someone - not because I have bullied them (I haven’t) and as far as I can tell it’s not because of anything I said to them in our single interaction last summer (you can see the entirety of what I said in my answer yesterday). Not that this level of harassment would be warranted in any circumstance, but I genuinely don’t know why I’ve been targeted like this. Having this thrown at me without knowing what I did to deserve this has only made an already upsetting situation even more distressing to deal with.

This ongoing harassment is the reason I kept anon turned off for so much of last year and have had my DMs restricted since last summer. This is why I don’t allow anonymous commenting on my fics on AO3 and why I usually don’t reply to comments over there at all. This is also a large reason why I’ve pulled back on writing Maycury and Freddie fics and why I don’t write Freddie meta/opinion posts at all anymore, because those are the things that were attracting most of the attention from these people. I have seriously considered leaving the fandom on multiple occasions because of this harassment.

I try my best to keep this blog positive and I avoid posting discourse and negativity over here as much as possible. I didn’t want to publish any of the asks because I didn’t want to encourage whoever is behind these to send more, and I also didn’t want y’all to have to see everything that was being said. I know this means that the ask yesterday seems like it came out of nowhere, and I’m really sorry for any drama that I stirred up by answering it.

However, I reached my breaking point about this and needed to finally say something. I’m sorry if the wording in my response wasn’t the best. It was one of the first things I saw in the morning and I answered it at about 8:30am with little proofreading, which is entirely my bad and I do apologize for that.

Like I said at the start of this post, I’m going to keep anon turned off on this blog. I’m really sorry to do this again because most of you are genuinely lovely and I enjoy chatting with you! But I cannot keep dealing with these asks and messages, not if I want to stay in this fandom.

And finally, If you’re one of the people who has been sending me the harassing messages over the last several months, please just stop. Please leave me alone, please stop insulting me and dog-piling on me in my fic comments, please just let me go back to my quiet corner of the fandom and enjoy myself over here.

I have never bullied this user and have only ever had that one interaction with them. Whoever you are looking to blame for whatever has been happening, it isn’t me - and frankly, after the months of harassment about this I am never going to unblock this user so you can stop trying to convince me to do that too.

Please do not message or harass the user in question over this and please do not reblog this post.

[whatevshollandarchive]

Spring Cleaning (T.H. x Reader)

request: Hey, can I maybe request a Tomxreader where she lives with the four guys. And she always/often appears in the background of ig stories, but she kinda gets a lot of crap and hate and that's why she never wants to be on live ig and stuff, but the boys (who all love her so much) dont know. They find out because her phone won't stop ringing, after she was in Tuwaines story, dancing with Haz. And they all make a live from her phone, and say that all the hate is not cool and that she's family. Thanks❤ - @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven​

summary: Tom & the guys find out that their roommate has been recieving hate after a morning of spring cleaning and go live to ask the fans to stop spreading negativity.

words: 3k

warnings: minimal swearing, hateful comments

a/n: the usernames included in this are supposed to be fictitious and i apologize if these are anyone’s real username. please leave feedback! requests are open! 

links: masterlist;

(not my gif)

The boys were becoming more active on social media as days came and went, which meant you were appearing on people’s timelines more and more often. And that was both a blessing and a curse. 

You loved seeing the guys share silly little moments with the fans. Tom had so many people supporting him online and he just loved letting them in on his life every once in awhile. But, that came with the fact that people didn’t necessarily like you being in his life.

Dating Tom and living with him and the guys had been a secret for awhile. You didn’t know what the fans would think of you, and you were worried it wouldn’t be good. And turns out, your suspicions were correct. 

Anytime you’re featured in something that any of the guys post, you’re spammed with hate from their followers, even if you were just in the background of an Instagram story. It was pretty bad, but none of your roommates ever seemed to notice it. And the last thing you wanted was to bother Tom about it, so you kept it to yourself. You built up a facade against the comments when they were all around, trying to be strong regardless of what people had said about you.

“Spring cleaning!” Harrison announced, holding a broom and dustpan in his hands as he walked into the living room. You were sitting beside Harry on the couch, in the middle of an episode of New Girl on Netflix, when Harrison moved to block the screen. 

“Hey!” You laughed, before pausing the episode.

“Come on, get up off your lazy bums,” Harrison said, gesturing for the two of you to move along. “It’s time to get some cleaning done.”

“How much cleaner can this place get, Haz?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised in dismay. 

You stood up, shaking your head at the two boys. Tom and Tuwaine wandered into the room from the backdoor, catching sight of Harrison holding out the broom to Harry.

“What’s all this?” Tom asked, looking from you to Haz.

“Harrison says it’s time for “spring cleaning.”” You replied, giggling. Harrison shoved the dust pan out to you with a pointed look, and you frowned, hesitantly taking ahold of it.

“Mate, since when were you into cleaning?” Tuwaine asked, laughing, but Harrison just glared back at him.

Eventually, you all followed Haz’s instruction and began to clean up the house a bit. Music played from Harry’s speaker in the kitchen as you and Tom wiped down the counters and cabinets, laughing to one another about how ridiculous Harrison is.

“Spring cleaning,” You giggled. “I’ve never heard Harrison say that before in my life.”

“Right. Literally two nights ago on live, he said that he hated having to clean,” You smiled to yourself, but Tom stopped what he was doing, studying you while you worked. “Hey, we were thinking about going live later. You should hang out with us then.”

You lifted a shoulder in a small shrug, pretending to be immersed in wiping down the white countertop in front of you.

“I dunno, Tommy,” You told him, feeling his eyes on you. “I don’t feel up to that, you know?”

He watched as you casted him a small glance over your shoulder with an apologetic smile before turning back to the counter.

“Love, please, just for a few minutes?” Tom asked, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout when you turned to him.

“Maybe.” You walked away, setting the rag down on the counter to go find Harrison to see what else there was to do.

But, Harrison wasn’t doing much other than controlling the music on Harry’s phone. And it looked like you weren’t the only one noticing that.

Tuwaine appeared at your side, arms crossed.

“Harrison, why haven’t you been cleaning?”

The blonde looked up at the two of you, before holding up the phone.

“I’m DJ-ing, man. Gotta have a good soundtrack to clean.” He stated with a grin. Tuwaine sat down on the couch with a mirrored grin, shrugging slightly.

“Then I am taking a break.” You playfully rolled your eyes at them, putting your hands on your hips as you looked down at Haz. He scrolled through his phone before deciding on a song. His thumb pressed down on the play button and the music began to play through the speaker. 

“Okay, I guess I’ll let your little break slide since you picked a good song.” You told him with a smile. He hopped to his feet, singing along with the song, coming up with a silly dance to the beat.

Harrison made his way to your side, grabbing your hands to make you dance with him, earning a surprised laugh from you. You gave in, singing and dancing around with him. Tuwaine was chuckling from the couch, and you heard Tom ask, “What in the world?”

You noticed him leaning against the wall of the hallway, watching you and Harrison with a small smile.

Harrison let out a triumphant laugh, swinging you around with a grin.

“I think I’m stealing your girl, Holland.”

“Keep dreaming, kid.” You told him and he let go of you with a wink.

“We’ll see.”

Harrison turned down the volume a little bit, humming along to the words. Tuwaine was looking down at his phone, typing away, as Tom came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“So,” Tuwaine began, tossing down his phone and turning to Harrison. “Has spring been cleaned?”

Tom laughed, his chest vibrating against your back as you leaned into his touch. Everyone’s eyes fell onto the blonde, who gave a small shrug.

“Sure, as long as Harry’s done in the garden.”

“I’m gonna go hit the showers, then.” You said, wiggling out of Tom’s hug. You glanced around the room quickly, trying to see where your phone was, but figured you’d find it later and went on to get in the shower.

After you left, Tom plopped down onto the couch with a sigh. Harrison raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“What’s up?” The sound of the water rushing in the shower filled the silence along with the music from the speaker between the three of them before Tom began talking. He understood wanting privacy, he really did. But, you were always so quick to opt out of photos or live streams, or just anything like that. He wanted people to see how involved in his life you were.

“She said no to the live again,” Tom said, staring down at the coffee table in front of the couch, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t get it. She’s so private all the time, but just a little check-in with the fans would be enough.”

A phone vibrated on the kitchen counter but they all ignored it. Tuwaine pursed his lips.

“Have you tried talking to her about it, like, seriously?” He asked, and Harrison nodded, pointing towards Tuwaine.

“Yeah, maybe you should sit her down and explain to her that it’s worrying you.” Tom looked up at his friends, nodding a little bit, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I’ve tried that, though, and she always just dodges it,” He replied, sadly. “I dunno, I don’t want to pressure her if this is just wanting to be private.”

Another buzz of a phone sounded from the kitchen, and then third, and a fourth. They’re heads all turned in the direction of the phone.

“Who’s is that?” Harrison asked, confused. Tuwaine held up his phone, and Harrison pulled his own from his pocket, and held up Harry’s, which was playing the music on the speaker.

“Mine’s in the bedroom.” Tom rose to his feet and walked into the kitchen.

“Must be Y/N’s then.” Tuwaine commented, watching Tom intently. Tom leaned across the counter to pick up your phone as it vibrated another time.

“What the…” His eyes fell upon your lock screen, which was filled with notifications from what looked to be a bunch of fans. 

“What is it?” Harrison’s voice called, but Tom didn’t respond. Instead, he started scrolling through the notifications. People were mentioning you in comments and tweets, and were DMing you over and over. 

erika.holland: you don't deserve to be with tom

summers-tom: why would you wear that? it doesn’t even look good on you

gigglyosterfield: anyone else see tuwaine’s story with @y/n? yeahhh, i’m not into that.

More and more notifications appeared on your phone as Tom looked through some of them. He couldn’t even begin to process it. He sat back down on the couch, passing your phone to Tuwiane. His eyes widened when he saw all the hate being thrown towards you. Harrison leaned in, brows furrowed as he flicked through some of it.

“Oh my god.” Tuwaine said, scratching his chin as he glanced between Tom and Haz.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, walking inside from the backyard, wiping his hands down on his jeans. Harrison handed him your phone. The screen had gone dark, so Harry gave them a confused look. “What-”

“Just..,” Tom began, his voice tense. “Look at her notifications.”

The phone buzzed in his hand, and his mouth fell agape. Tom put his head in his hands. This is why you wanted to be so private online. He felt like an asshole.

“Oh...that’s…” Harry trailed off, letting the screen go dark again. He passed Harrison the phone and it vibrated in his hands. 

“Can you turn do not disturb on?” Tom muttered, and Harrison fumbled to figure out how to do that, but Harry ended up grabbing the phone again and turning it on. “How could I not have noticed this stuff?”

“It’s not just on you, mate.” Tuwaine told him.

“Yeah, we haven’t noticed it either.” Harry added, setting your phone down on the arm of the couch.

The sound of the water stopped and they heard the shower curtain open. Tom’s head snapped up, and he glanced back in the hallway before looking back to his friends.

“Look, don’t post anything about this yet, alright?” Tom said. He kept his voice lowered, and he looked each of them in the eye. They all nodded in agreeance, watching as he got up off the couch. “I want to talk to her about it first, and then we can all do a live or a video explaining how this isn’t okay. I just need to talk to her beforehand.”

He made his way into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind him. You were standing with your back to him, a white towel wrapped around your figure as you looked through your jeans in the dresser drawer. Tom slowly sat down on the end of the bed, trying to figure out what he was going to say to you. 

His brown eyes looked to you, wondering why you didn’t talk to him about the hate. He could have stopped it, he could have prevented it from getting this far. He wouldn’t have left it as is if he had known it was happening.

“Y/N.” Tom began, his voice soft. You hummed in response, your back still to him as you decided on a pair of pants and shut the drawer. When he didn’t continue, you faced him, eyebrows raised.

“Tommy?” You tossed the jeans onto the bed beside the other pieces of your outfit, but waited for him to respond before you started to get dressed.

“Um, I want to ask you something real quick.” You nodded, starting to slip on your underwear and clothes. Tom let out a small sigh.

“Okay,” You replied, pulling your shirt on over your head. “What’s up?”

You pulled on your pants and plopped down next to him on the bed, looking at him expectantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting hate?” He asked. His eyes studied your features, watching your body rise and fall slowly with the deep breath you took. You tore your eyes from his face and just shook your head.

“It wasn’t your problem to deal with.” Tom watched as you pushed yourself up off the bed in disbelief.

“Y/N,” You wandered over to your vanity, picking up your hairbrush. “If I had known it was happening, I would have done everything I could to stop it.”

You pulled the brush through your wet hair, feeling some water droplets fall onto your forearm as you did so. You wondered how he even found out, but then you realized you hadn’t bothered to find it before getting into the shower.

“It’s not your problem, though, Tom. And besides, I’m fine, really.”

“It is my problem. You’re my whole world, love. I don’t want people treating you like that,” You turned away from him, letting out a sigh while squeezing your eyes shut. A few tears roll down your face, recalling a few of the comments that stung the most in the past. Tom’s arms snaked around your waist, pulling you in close. You let out a small sob, cracking open the facade you’d once worked so hard to keep up with. Tom rested his chin on your shoulder, tightening his grip on you. “This shouldn’t be happening, Y/N. Let me say something about it.”

You lip quivered as the tears kept falling from your now puffy eyes. Tom softly let go of you, moving to stand in front of you. He brought his hand up to your cheek, wiping away some of those tears with his thumb. His eyes were soft and reassuring. 

“Okay.” You whispered, watching a small smile grow on his face before he pulled you in for a hug.

“I love you more than you could ever know, darling.”

An hour and a half later, you found yourself sitting at the dining room table with all your roommates. After you had finished crying into Tom’s chest and put on some light makeup, you walked into the living room to find Harrison, Tuwaine, and Harry all sitting there anxiously. Their eyes all flew up when they heard you walk into the room, wondering how you were doing. You gave them a smile, silently thanking them for being there for you. 

“I think we should say something on the live. And then afterwards tweet something or make a post on our stories?” Tom said, and Harry nodded.

“That’s a good idea.”

“How’s that sound, Y/N?” Tom met your eye and you didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to wrap your head around this.

“Let’s do the live on my account.”

So, everyone positioned themselves at the table while Tom set your phone up against one of Harrison’s shoes. He opened up your Instagram and pulled up the camera. You grew nervous, hoping this would work, even in the slightest. He pressed live, starting it, and within a few seconds, people came pouring into the livestream. 

You watched as the different usernames appeared on the screen, little colored hearts floated up from the bottom corner. You were too scared to say anything yourself, so you bumped your knee against Tom’s. His fingers interlocked with yours as he greeted the people who were sending in wave emojis and hellos. 

“How’s it going, everyone?” People already were asking questions. You scanned the chat, dreading the inevitable comments that would be typed about you. But, nothing mean was appearing yet as more people filled into the stream. So far so good, you thought. “We decided to do the live on Y/N’s account today, obviously.”

“You know, to keep you on your toes.” Tuwaine joked, giving a wink, which made everyone laugh. 

“Yeah, but also we want to talk about something that’s been going on for way too long.” Harry said, leaning further into frame. You looked down at your hand in Tom’s underneath the table with a deep breath. 

“We wanted to address the things that people have been saying about Y/N and the messages being sent to her,” Tom began with a sigh. Harrison nodded somberly, his blue eyes watching the comments. “It’s not cool to consistently comment rude things about her at all. She’s the nicest person ever and she doesn’t deserve this.”

“Yeah, this never should have become such a huge problem. Y/N’s been pretty quiet about these messages and we’ve unfortunately overlooked them for so long, but seriously, you guys shouldn’t be doing this.” Harrison added, running a hand through his hair. You watched as people in the comments began to send heart emojis, and call the people who were sending hate clowns, which put a small smile on your face.

“Y/N is super important to us and she’s a huge part of our lives. We shouldn’t have to hide her or exclude her because some of you out there have mean opinions.” Tuwaine said, and the guys all nodded.

“We love her and it’s sad to see all this negativity about someone we all care about. It’s hurt her and I just don’t get how some people can take pride in hurting someone’s feelings. Especially when they’re as amazing and talented and beautiful as Y/N is.” Tom smiled at you, and you hid your face in his shoulder, trying to hide your red face.

“So, if you’re posting or sending in hate, please stop because she’s in our lives and she’s not going anywhere. No use in being a jerk about someone you don’t even personally know.”

The people in the comments were overwhelmingly supportive and nice, and you slowly became more comfortable throughout the rest of the livestream. After addressing the issue, you and the guys began answering fun questions from the chat and hung out with the fans. And then, after you had ended the live, each of you individually sent out tweets, quickly giving a recap of what was said on the live. 

Instead of getting tweeted about how horrible your outfit choice was, you were being tagged in posts talking about how you didn’t deserve the hate and how beautiful you truly were. It was a start, but you knew that things would get better soon. And more importantly, you had the best boyfriend and roommates you could ever ask for.

[charmedseoull]

The Aftermath of Fanfiction Authors with Reba Interview

Before You Read the Interview

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

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

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

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

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

When did you first join fandom culture?

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

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

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

What do you like about fandoms?

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

What do you dislike about fandoms?

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

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

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

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

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

When did you first start reading fanfiction? 

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

What do you think the purpose behind fanfiction is?

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

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

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

As a reader, how do you view authors?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why do you think some readers invade an authors privacy?

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

How do you think authors manage this privacy invasion?

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

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

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

Why do you think anonymity is important for fanfiction writing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you consider writing an art form?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why do you think authors write dark themes?

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

Why do you think readers read dark themes?

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

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

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

Do you think a work’s popularity is important?

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

Should we judge authors for deleting/orphaning their work?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[renaroo]

Super Brothers (2/12)

Disclaimer: Superman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Child Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, PTSD and Anxiety, Character Death Rating: T Synopsis: Jon Kent knew he pretty much had the perfect family life, but something still felt wrong with himself. At the height of feeling like an alien in his own skin, however, his world got turned upside down when his parents took in a troubled child who embodied everything he felt he lacked. However, becoming a brother ended up being the smallest of the trials brought by adopting Christopher Kent. And being best friends with Damian Wayne has not exactly helped keep a neutral perspective on the matter.

A/N: This is almost late and I apologize. I have no excuses other than my brain is turning into as much mush as everyone else’s. But I really am enjoying where the future of this story is going and am really excited to get there. But, first, we have to reach some difficult places first. 

Before we go further, I must say this: TRIGGER WARNING. There is overt child abuse and child harm in this chapter. It’s not super detailed and it gets cut off, but I do not want people to get upset from it without warning. So please take care of yourself first and foremost.

I’m blown away by the support this fic is getting so far and I appreciate you all so very much! Special thanks to the lovely comments and promotion from @secretlystephaniebrown, @spiralcass, @noartificialfruitjuice, @fred-astairs-dark-impulses, @karagordon, and elietrope on AO3 and tumblr!

Chapter Two: Pay in Full

Damian isn’t surprised when he is the lone attendant of breakfast the following morning. His wrists are still bruised up and a little painful from his restraints, but he ignores them under the cuffs of his school uniform and is the picture of polite society and manners. He eats confidently and alone.

It isn’t unusual, only disappointing.

Fortunately, Alfred is nothing if not an excellent reader of the atmosphere and does not force conversation or dullness on Damian that is unwarranted. He leaves the youngest Wayne to a peaceful meal.

The quiet makes it easier for Damian to overhear Alfred conversing just a step or so into the hall.

“Ah, Miss Cassandra, it is unusual to see you up and about at such an hour,” Alfred’s voice carries with a genuine mix of praise and surprise.

“Yeah, um,” Cass mutters, speech slurred with sleep, “can you, um, take me? Soon? He wanted to talk to me.”

“But of course. I can take you as I take Master Damian to the academy this morning.”

Starring toward the door, Damian lets his oatmeal slip off of his spoon and carelessly plop back into the bowl. He doesn’t even pay attention to the splashes of oats which end up on Alfred’s meticulously cared for table runner. He’ absorbed by the implications of the conversation happening in front of him.

After an encounter with Professor Pyg which ended as eventfully as his did, Damian anticipated some negative news getting to either his father or Grayson. And while Damian didn’t want for Dick to hear about Damian’s poor performances without him, there was at least some trust.

Grayson would be annoyingly supportive and want to use the entire event as some sort of learning experience.

Father is something else entirely.

After a few moments of subconsciously holding his breath, Damian glances down to his oatmeal and finds it suddenly subpar.

He pushes out from the table, chair legs protesting loudly, and tosses the handkerchief from his lap onto the table. Damian is on his feet and in the hall before Cassandra even has time to leave Alfred and redress herself for the day.

“Alfred, I do not need to attend the academy today,” he announces.

The butler tilts his head slightly and raises his eyebrows minutely. “I believe the education system would disagree with you entirely.”

“I have things to discuss with Father,” Damian elaborates stiffly. “Important information that outweighs any supposed social-developments I am pretending to make.”

Cassandra scratches at her jawline and frowns at Damian. She’s assessing him, her dark eyes boring into Damian’s soul and evaluating every tremor of his muscle.

Which makes it even more annoying that her choice of commentary is to say, “Bad at it. Pretending,” she jokes.

“Silence, you,” Damian hisses ferally. “The entire first year I lived here, I had to listen to everyone talk about you and never once did they mention your sass.”

She offers a half-shrug. “Forgot the best part.”

“Tt, more like the worst,” Damian teeters, hands on his hips.

For a moment, Cassandra seems to be ignoring him as she looks over Damian’s head at Alfred and rotates her shoulders. “Maybe shouldn’t go to school,” she offers, surprising Damian entirely.

Alfred seems just as taken by the suggestion and looks at her suspiciously. “Why so, Miss Cassandra?”

“Had a bad night,” she explains. “Probably does have important stuff to say.”

Heat flushes into Damian’s face. His eyes glaze into a distinct red hue and his shoulders tremble as he clutches his hands into fists by his side. There is almost certainly steam coming off of him as anger overtakes him in a way that it hasn’t for ages now.

“How dare you!” he roars.

All too casually, Cassandra glances down to Damian and raises an eyebrow at him. She doesn’t say anything with words.

“How dare you assume so much about me! You don’t even know me!” Damian continues, bringing his fists up as if ready to brawl. “Perhaps what I’m going to do is while you wish to tattle to Father, I’ll tell him the truth about how you are nothing but an interference here in Gotham! That you do not deserve to trespass on my affairs! And that absolutely everyone wishes you would bugger off again so that everyone can go back to the way things were!”

“Master Damian, that is enough!” Alfred says coolly. He never raises his voice, but he never needs to.

Despite himself, Damian snaps his jaw closed. But he doesn’t stop glaring into Cassandra’s face, her eyes. His anger is still boiling over, no matter how much he’s contained it.

Cassandra looks back at him, her face drawn and unreadable.

It makes Damian even more upset.

“That is no way to speak to anyone, certainly not family,” Alfred reminds Damian. “Considering your injuries—“

“I am not injured that gravely, Pennyworth!” Damian sputters again.

“—I can see the benefit to a day of recuperation from school, so long as we do not continue this theme habitually,” Alfred persists. “We will leave for your father’s office as soon as Miss Cassandra is ready to leave. And we will not leave a moment sooner than that.” He looks to Cassandra and pats her shoulder. It’s the only thing that gets her to pull her gaze away from Damian. “I encourage you to get ready for the day at your leisure, my dear.”

After that, the conversation is over, and Damian ends up sitting in the foyer waiting for the better part of an hour as Cass does just as Alfred insisted.

***

“There he is!”

Jon is still wiping at his eyes as he stumbles through the apartment. It’s difficult, in these early mornings, for him to focus on appropriate amounts of strength, so he shoulders into furniture a touch too hard or bangs into the doorframe with enough force to send pictures lined down the walls tumbling down.

Some things that are less natural to him since his coming into power, like flight or his special types of vision, take more effort and alertness. Not his super strength, however fortunately or unfortunately.

He stumbles his way into the kitchen, his feet padding over the shift from hardwood to tile. He can smell the scrambled eggs before his dad even set them on Jon’s prepared plate.

At the table across from Jon is his mom, already in a beautiful silk top with a gold necklace of large geometric squares. Her chin-length hair is curlier than usual which means she hasn’t straightened it. Her lashes are long, nearly swooping down to her cheeks as she looks down to her iPad as she reads. When she takes her cup away from her lips, a dark purple lip stain is left behind on it.

Jon admires her for a moment, scooting into his seat but not pulling up to the table.

“Good morning, honey,” his mom says full of affection. Her violet eyes glance up to his face.

“Good morning,” Jon says back, smiling brightly.

“Leave walking room, champ,” his dad says from behind. Before Jon can even think, two massive hands close in around the edges of Jon’s backrest, then his whole chair is lifted and scooted up until Jon’s chest nearly bumps the table.

“Sorry, Pa,” Jon says automatically, sparing a glance as his father moves over and plants himself in one of the two chairs between Jon and his mom.

Even in a collared shirt and sweater vest, Jon can see what a massive shadow his father leaves for him. He is broad-shouldered and firm, even with his softness. He has a body that exudes power and strength. It’s only with folded in shoulders and deflated presentation that Clark Kent can convince the world there is a difference between himself and Superman.

At home, among family, as Pa, Jon knows his dad is unmistakably Superman.

When Pa’s large hands reach for his cup of orange juice or poke at scrambled eggs with a fork, it makes Jon look at his own hands.

They’re thin, nimble hands. Soft.

Mom has said on more than one occasion that with fingers as long as his, Jon needs to either learn piano or practice keyboard typing. And Jon is certain he has no ear for tunes.

“I almost came to get you a second time, young man,” Pa says between bites of eggs. “I warned you before about staying up late. I know there are plenty of things an eleven-year-old boy thinks are cooler than sleep.”

Curling his nose, Jon shifts uncomfortably. “I’m almost twelve now,” he reminds them. “You said I could push curfew when I turned twelve.”

“And you’re still not twelve,” Mom says, closing out the tabs on her iPad. She looks very seriously at Jon. “And it doesn’t matter what age you are, my mother’s intuition tells me you’re watching scary movies with the Wayne kid again.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Jon squeaks. “I promise I wasn’t!”

“You had nightmares last night, Jon. We share a wall with your room,” Pa says, face the picture of sympathetic. “And it’s okay to have nightmares sometimes, but you’ve been having them a lot lately. Something like that would usually require something scaring you.”

“Like movies,” Mom adds, still eyeing Jon suspiciously. “Is it Gotham? Maybe we shouldn’t let you go to Gotham so much. Especially this time of year. I hate that stuck-up little island, Clark. No wonder he’s scared.”

“Wait, no, it’s not anything to do with Gotham or movies or Damian,” Jon argues emphatically.

Both of Jon’s parents stop and do the thing Jon has come to hate most during their meals. They look up, toward one another, and seemingly carry out an entire conversation with each other through micro expression alone.  It would be adorable if they weren’t his parents.

Jon decides to take the time to begin shoveling in his eggs. His dad’s cooking may be simple but it’s always filling.

“Do you want to talk about these nightmares you’re having, Jon?” Pa asks gently. “You and your body have been put through a lot of changes very quickly over the past year or so. You’ve gotten your own powers, you’ve moved schools twice, your mother and I both are back at full time. That’s a lot.”

He chews over his father’s words for a long moment and considers them.

For most of his young life, Jon Kent has been able to tell his parents positively everything on his mind. They are loving, supportive good people. The best people. Whether they’re superheroes or super reporters, they make Jon proud with almost every second of every day.

But his nightmares make his throat fill closed and tight in ways that are impossible to express. He likes to think they could know, but it feels like they couldn’t.

They couldn’t know how certain words or certain looks or certain things make him feel like he’s crawled into someone else’s skin. Like he’s been lying to everyone on accident this whole time. That what people see him as is undeserved.

What could he ever say to explain that?

Not to mention, explaining that he was patrolling in Gotham and got captured by some madman like Professor Pyg is probably worth far more trouble than simply admitting to scary movies with Damian.

“I don’t remember them,” Jon lies through his teeth.

“That can happen,” Pa says warmly.

When Jon looks up, it’s unsurprising to see that his mother’s face is fairly neutral. She looks at him worriedly and unconvinced.

If she plans on saying anything, however, the moment eludes her. Her iPad lights up simultaneously with the default ding of her phone. She glances at them both before getting to her feet. She’s a full inch taller in her heels and wearing Jon’s favorite skirt of hers.

“Clark, are you going to take Jon this morning?” she asks. “I can use it to excuse you from any early bellows from Perry.”

“Of course,” Pa says, leaning back and tilting his head for the optimal kissing angle.

Mom comes around the table and ducks down, holding back her hair delicately as she kisses Jon’s forehead. “Have a good day, hun, I love you.”

“Bye, Mom, you look beautiful,” Jon informs her as she leaves.

He watches her go and takes a breath. His gaze is only broken when his dad holds his glasses out in front of his vision.

“Don’t forget these,” Pa reminds him.

“Oh, thanks,” Jon mutters, taking the thick frames. His motion is stopped, though, as his father doesn’t let go. He glances back up to Pa and raises a brow.

“Jon, do you know how polygraphs work?” Pa asks, still not letting go of the glasses.

“Um, not really,” Jon admits.

“They measure your heartbeat, because if someone’s not a good liar then they will increase their heart rate, and the machine records it,” Pa explains as he finally lets go of Jon’s glasses.

Despite himself, Jon’s heart picks up its pace. He glances down to his lap. “Do you always listen to my heartbeat?”

“Since before you were born,” Pa says softly, running his broad hand over Jon’s hair. His thumb strums the locks affectionately. “And you thought I was the easy parent, huh?”

“I just don’t want to talk about my nightmares yet,” Jon explains worriedly.

“That’s okay,” Pa assures him, letting go of Jon’s hair. “But I’d appreciate you not lying to me or your mother.”

Jon frowns. “I won’t, Pa, I promise. Sorry I did.” He glances toward his mother’s seat and notices her coffee mug sitting where she left it. Her purple lipstick is still staining the side. “Do you listen to mom’s heartbeat?”

“Practically since the day I met her,” Pa laughs, picking up both of their finished plates. “I always listen out for the hearts of the people I love. It’s,” he pauses in thought before continuing his walk to the sink, “it’s comforting to know everyone’s safe.”

Humming some, Jon puts his chin on the kitchen table and focuses. His mom should be in the elevator on her way down. If he uses his x-ray vision he could even watch her. But instead, he listens. It’s hard to focus on the beat alone, to isolate it. It could give him a headache until he’s better at it. But Jon can do it.

It’s one of many things he can do, he can be because of his father — a polygraph.

But as he listens for his mother’s heart, Jon wonders if there are more things he can do and be because of his mother.

“Pa, it’s a good thing to want to be more like mom, right?” Jon asks before he can stop himself.

His pa lets out a deep laugh over the running water in the sink. “Jon, everyone wants to be more like your mother. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

And that, Jon decides, is comforting.

***

Lor-Zod learns through the sunstones in silence. His eyes are transfixed on their histories and piloting and mathematics, but his mind is distantly occupied.

His mother has stood vigilant at the door, unmoving, the entire morning. She has not greeted him yet, has not introduced herself to him. Standing, quietly, scathingly.

The moment Lor finishes his aeronautics lesson, he feels his mother’s hand close around his wrist. He is reaching for the next lesson, but she is suddenly upon him, stopping him. Her face is mere centimeters from his own. Her nose snarls.

“You are summoned, Lor,” she tells him, as though he should already know.

“Where, mother?” he barely has air in his lungs to ask before he is jerked into the air and guided through the halls of their palace.

As they travel swiftly through their palace, Lor notices for the first time that he has not seen servants or even heard servants all morning. That is beyond unusual, and it makes their giant crystalline halls even more empty than normal.

Something sits unsettled and worrisome in Lor’s chest. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

“What are we doing, mother?” Lor attempts again, voice tight with fear.

“Is a child to speak out of turn?” she asks angrily, her brown hair whipping across her face as she looks over her shoulder.

Lor obediently shakes his head. “No,” he answers.

“Then you have no turn,” she informs him. When she looks ahead once more, her fingers tighten around his wrist. “There is a lesson to be learned today.”

Silence overtakes Lor as they reach the grand hall and entrance of their palace. There still are no servants to be seen, and there is also no sign of the general. Every hair on Lor’s body stands on end as he realizes just how wrong everything is set up to be.

But he cannot even force himself to speak. He knows better. His body knows better.

As they bound out of the giant doors to their palace, Lor realizes that they are opening up to an enormous gathering. There are purple-skinned Jekuul natives for as far as Lor’s unaided vision can see. They all face forward, toward the intimidating staircase to the palace’s entrance. And to the general.

General Zod does not even turn his shoulders toward Lor and his mother as they come to his side. He is facing forward, over the crowd.

Lor is positioned harshly, stood in front of his mother. She swiftly shifts her hand from his wrist to his shoulder, her other hand matching it. They grip him fiercely, nails clicking against the Kryptonian armor beneath.

When Lor looks up to his mother’s face, he can only see her chin as it faces the general obediently.

Then, when Lor follows her gaze, he lets out a soft gasp.

They are not the only ones standing on the stairs. There is also a familiar, tiny purple girl in his father’s grips.

“Ti’ahl? What’s she doing here?” Lor asks before his mother’s grip becomes even more constricting. He feels his chest freeze up, his heart pounding again.

“You are out of turn, child,” she hisses down at him. “Watch.”

Swallowing, Lor looks back to the General.

The General seems satisfied after Lor falls silent, and he begins speaking out in a tongue so strange but familiar. His voice booms and echoes over the silent crowds below. He’s speaking in Jakuul, Lor knows that much, but still not what his father is saying.

For a moment, Lor tries. He tries desperately to understand what is being said, but none of it makes sense. There aren’t even the familiar possibilities of understanding like he had with Ti’ahl just the day before.

Thinking of Ti’ahl, Lor glances down from his father’s face to where Ti’ahl stands trembling in the General’s grip.

She looks paler than yesterday, her purple skin lighter in the face and almost blue in her cheeks. Her big, dark eyes are tear-filled and sunken, her hair messy. It occurs to Lor that she is wearing the exact same clothes that he last saw her in.

Only at that moment does Lor realize she never made it home last night. But he can’t imagine why.

Deep down, Lor wishes to speak to her, to comfort her, to offer his cape once more, but she doesn’t even have it now. Lor wonders, idly, where it might be.

The General’s voice picks up in fervor, growing in a tempo as the crowds below become unsettled.

Lor doesn’t know what to think, what’s going on when he sees his father wrench Ti’ahl’s arm back and up into the air at a frightening angle. It makes the little girl scream in shock and begins crying, tugging.

Not sure what is going on, Lor opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

With a flick of his wrist, the General turns Ti’ahl’s arm completely upside down and a hideous snap echoes through the hot Jekuul air.

Stunned, Lor stares at his father and at the little girl he played with yesterday. The air erupts with high pitched squeals and sobs from the crowds below. Ti’ahl herself hangs limply unconscious, only held up by the General’s tremendous grip on her arm.

His mother holds him down with so much force, Lor feels as though he will sink through the stairs. He can’t look at her, can’t hear her past the thundering pulse in his own ears. He stares only at his father who is happily soaking in the shock and awe of the crowds.

Then, Lor snaps.

All he can see is red and then his father’s shoulder is smoking, singed.

And, for the first time since the night before, General Zod looks at Lor.

“I am disappointed, Faora,” the General says angrily. “You assured me that our child was being raised in the traditions of Krypton. Are those traditions not that punishments are handled by the mother?”

“They are,” Lor’s mother says, aghast, before yanking Lor into the palace doors.

Lor hits the floor before he even sees the smack coming. And it is only the first.

He hardly feels any of it, numb to everything with the sound of that crack echoing throughout his whole body.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Help Wanted (final chapter)

Thank you so much to everyone whose enjoyed this fic! Writing it has been a real joy and a relief right now, especial thanks to @minky-for-short​ and @spiky-lesbian​ my lovely beta readers!

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 if you’ve enjoyed this fic!

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

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Fjord and Caduceus get the happy ending they deserve

WARNING: This chapter deals with physical domestic violence, it doesn't happen on page but the results are seen. Also, conversations around internalised homophobia

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“Are you really going to let him leave without saying goodbye?”

It was all Yasha had said to her that evening, since she’d come storming in after her disastrous ‘conversation’ with Fjord. Not at first, of course, both of her girlfriends knew better tha to approach her when she was in a mood like that, giving her space to burn her anger away. Jester, of course, had immediately crept onto the sofa as soon as the coast was clear, wrapping her soft arms around her and not asking for an explanation, just holding.

Yasha didn’t speak her love through touch as much as Jester, instead there was a cup of warm tea in front of her all of a sudden and the strong, sure presence behind her he knew so well, a hand on her shoulder.

And those words, in her quiet, level voice.

Jester looked like she wanted to say more, that expression on her face like she was just full of words and was about to burst, until Yasha laid a gentle hand on top of her head and suggested that maybe she could go and help her make dinner. The tiefling bit her lip and flared her nostrils but eventually nodded and hopped over the back of the sofa, Yasha turning after her and leaving Beau with those words.

“Are you really going to let him leave without saying goodbye?”

Not admonishing or judging, there was none of that in her tone, as steady and sure as the sight of home from a long distance. It was just another moment where Beau felt her girlfriends knew her better than she knew herself, like they saw what was under the anger at the surface, the anger that many would assume was all there was to her. So many that sometimes Beau would believe it.

Because of course she wasn’t going to let her best friend go for gods knew how long without a goodbye. She couldn’t have their last interaction be them screaming at each other on a street corner, throwing words like weapons. No matter how she felt about his choices, he was still her friend. They’d been through far too much to leave it like that.

It had just taken her up until now to realise it.

Sighing, Beau unfolded herself and stood up, heading for the door, “I’m going to go to Fjord’s.”

Relief flooded Jester’s expression and Yasha gave a small nod, “We’ll have dinner ready for when you come back.”

Beau gave them both a rueful smile, taking a moment to admire the simple domesticity of them with Jester chopping carrots and Yasha stirring a pot on the stove. She couldn’t believe this was her life now, after so much time believing she was undeserving of anything half as lovely. A square window of warm yellow light on a dark street, always there for her.

And she would repay them by continuing to get better.

Beau shouldered on her jacket and slipped her feet into her comfy walking trainers, already planning out what she was going to say, how she was going to rescue the clusterfuck that had been their last interaction. At least it wasn’t the first time they’d had to do this, they were practically experts at navigating their way back to friendship after both letting their anger do the speaking for them.

She was a second from putting her hand on the door when someone knocked on it.

Frowning, Beau opened the door and sucked in a sharp breath.

Fjord stood on their doormat, panting heavily like he’d run there. A gym bag sat at his feet, haphazardly stuffed and hastily zipped. He was shivering in just a t-shirt and jeans, the cold night air turning his joints a harsh, dark green, arms wrapped around himself protectively and his eyes red and raw.

And an angry swelling around one streaming eye.

“I…” his voice was raspy, like he was struggling to get the words out, “Um, I broke up with Avantika. Can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

Fury flooded Beau within an instant, her jaw clenching hard and her hands turning into white knuckled fists. Adrenaline snapped hard in her chest, making her voice a low growl, “I’m going to kill her. I’m going to fucking kill her.”

Fjord closed his eyes, shrinking down, looking so completely defeated, like a man with water up to his jawline and rising, “Beau...please, I...I just need a friend right now. Please?”

Beau found it hard to control her emotions, as a rule, particularly negative ones. They seemed to take root in her, in her muscles and chest and nerves, and take over until it was so hard to care about anything else.

But the one thing Beau did care about more than anything was the people she loved.

So she inhaled deeply, feeling it fill her up, as the monks had taught her. And as she exhaled, her jaw unclenched, her fingers spread and palms opened.

“Of course,” she reached out and put her hand on Fjord’s arm, gently bringing him inside, “Jester can have a look at that eye and we’ll make a bed up for you. Stay as long as you like, man, seriously.”

Fjord’s lower lip trembled and he bit down on it, hard, just nodding.

“Hey,” Beau murmured quietly, dropping her voice before folding him into the attentions of her family, the wide eyes and gasps and immediate action, the realities of his healing, “You’re safe here. Okay?”

Fjord gave a shuddery gasp and in it Beau could hear every time he’d let something slip as a teenager about the realities of the Asylum, every disastrous break up with women he couldn’t force himself to love, every impossible rule he’d been given to live by, every nightmare and flinch away from a raised voice, every scar he’d been given by so many people. She heard a lifetime of hurt start to shift like an earthquake starting to stir.

“Okay,” Fjord breathed, tears starting to fall.

Caduceus stayed in bed far past his alarm, lying on his side and listening to it’s dull buzz in the predawn gloom. He’d been awake long before it sounded but now it had, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

All he could do was replay the kiss over and over in his mind, the last moments he would ever spend with Fjord. He frantically searched for something, anything he could have done to change the outcome, changing his words and actions over in his mind like puzzle pieces he couldn’t make fit. Was there any way he could have kept Fjord close to him, taken the fear out of his eyes, any way he could have turned him around in the darkness?

He knew it would do no good but he couldn’t stop his mind chewing it over, punishing himself for every choice and everything he could have done differently.

It was as if the clocks had turned back on him and he was the firbolg he’d been two years and change ago. The one with weights on his wrists and ankles keeping him pinned to his too small bed, lost and depressed and scared to go out into the loud, foreign city he didn’t know, endlessly punishing himself for leaving too soon, for leaving too late, for leaving full stop. Falling before he’d even taken his first step, building walls around himself when he’d worked so hard to be free.

He couldn’t bear that again. So Caduceus did what he had done two years ago and touched the earring that looped through his right ear. He’d always played with his ears as a child, running his fingers over their soft edges to calm himself whenever he was anxious. Apparently he’d done it as a baby too, when he’d been born with the largest set of ears any of his family had ever seen on a newborn, so the story went. So when he’d been thinking where to set his mark of the Wildmother, the choice had seemed obvious.

He ran his thumb over the carved, polished oak, following the whorl of the wood and took a deep breath.

“Please give me strength,” he murmured, “I’m going to need you to get through today. And...wherever he is, please protect him. Please make sure he’s okay.”

And then he got up, far from ready to face the space in the cafe beside him that would always feel empty, but at least able to try.

He tried to focus on simple things, once the door to the cafe had closed behind him, letting out it’s usual cheery ring.

Take off your coat. Hang it up. Take out your apron. Put it on, double knotted at the front. Take the first chair down. Then the next. Then the next.

Simple instructions for an exhausted brain and an aching heart. And it worked, for a time. It stopped him thinking about how Fjord would be coming up the street right now, how the bell would seem extra bright when he pushed it back. How he would call out a friendly hello and probably use some slang term Caduceus wouldn’t understand but he would put together from context. How he’d be wearing shorts, even in the cold and Cad would tease him for it and Fjord would jokingly call him his grandmother in return. How he’d help him take the chairs down, going twice as fast as he did, asking when Cad would be putting the croissants in the oven because it just so happened he’d missed breakfast that morning, just a coincidence. How he’d call him Caddy and be the only person who ever had.

Maybe it wasn’t working as well as he’d thought.

Fortunately, the ringing of the bell above the door gave him something else to think about.

“I’m sorry, we’re not quite open yet,” Cad straightened up, “But if you’d like to take a seat, I can get the kettle on…”

“I think I’d like that,” Fjord answered, his voice small and hopeful, “If you had the time.”

Caduceus froze, eyes widening, wondering if he was still back in his bed, listening to the alarm and had finally drifted to sleep. But he never would have imagined Fjord like this, looking so tired and hollowed out, with a fading, sickly yellow shadow over one eye and a fresh scab on his lip.

The marks were all he could see, hand lifting to touch them, heal them without question but he forced himself to stop, “Who…”

Shame darkened Fjord’s expression and he hunched his shoulders, “Um...Avantika…”

Cad’s jaw dropped and he felt a pit of disbelief open up inside him, quickly filled by an anger he’d only felt rarely but when he did, it was like a forest bursting into flames, “What?”

Fjord winced, “Don’t worry, I’m done with her. I mean it, for good. She’s leaving anyway and...and I just want to let it go, okay?”

Cad quelled his anger, tucking it away to examine later, “So...she’s going and you’re…”

Fjord smiled then, even as it clearly tugged painfully on his lip, “I’m staying.”

Cad blinked, shaking his head slowly, wanting to believe it so desperately but terrified of being hurt again, pulled in two directions at once, “You’re staying? For good?”

Fjord nodded, “With Beau and Jester and Yasha until I can sort something more permanent than their couch. I mean, I still need to get stuff from...from her place and...I-I’ve never really put down roots anywhere so…”

He even sounded different. His accent had shifted slightly, like a layer of it had been pulled away. A lot of him seemed to have been pulled away, actually, pared back and stripped down and he was trying to figure out what was left.

“I’d like to work here again, if you’d have me,” Fjord asked shyly, “I mean, I’d completely understand if you weren’t comfortable with that. After...after everything.”

Yes, Cad wanted to answer wholeheartedly but he made himself stop.

“After what, Fjord?” he said instead, “I think we need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be right now but we need to.”

Fjord shook his head, “No. I mean, thank you but no. You’re right, we need to talk about it and we need to talk about it now. I’ve waited far too long already.”

Cad nodded and gestured to the table he stood by. None of the tables or chairs in the cafe matched, as he’d sourced them from half a hundred different thrift stores and flea markets and scrap yards. This one was black wrought iron with a mosaiced top, flowers done in squares of leaded glass. It was a table made for partners, for third or fourth dates, only big enough for two people to sit close with not an inch of spare space.

Fjord sat across from him willingly. He’d looked like he’d slept in the clothes he was wearing and judging by the room, they were probably Yasha’s. Cad wondered if the ladies even knew he was here, as early as it was.

“I, um…” Fjord cleared his throat, “I want to apologise for the kiss last night. Not that I did it, just the way I reacted. Well...maybe how I did it too. That wasn’t how I’d want our first kiss to go. What I mean is, I want to kiss you, Caduceus. I...I like you. In that way.”

Cad felt something come to life in his chest, a fluttering that settled in his throat as his heart began to pound, “I like you in that way too, Fjord. I have for a while.”

Fjord’s golden eyes widened, “Really? I...I hoped, I thought I saw it sometimes but I didn’t know if I was seeing what I wanted to see.”

“Neither did I,” Cad smiled kindly.

That made him smile again, that shy hesitant smile. He took a deep breath, fixing his gaze on the table top while he marshalled his thoughts, like he was having to rearrange everything with this new information.

“Um...it might seem stupid but knowing I...I can feel this way, I’ve kind of only known it since yesterday. Well, not really, it’s always kind of been there but up until now I tried to hide it, even from myself. It just wasn’t something I could be, it wasn’t allowed in the world I lived in until I met you,” Fjord swallowed hard, “In the orphanage, I would have been beaten up for it. In high school I would have been even more rejected than I already was, on Vandran’s ship, I...I would have lost the only man who I could call a father. But I didn’t realise how much it was hurting me, how...how it was like an infection? The more I tried to hide this part of me, the sicker I got, the more twisted, the more sad.”

Cad only nodded and gazed at him, trying to be a constant, sure presence.

“But...I’m done feeling sick,” Fjord took a shaky breath, “I’m done hiding it. I’m...I’m gay,” his voice broke almost immediatley and his face crumbled, tears flooding into his eyes, “Gods, I’m sorry…”

Cad leaned forward, voice soft, “Oh, Fjord, it’s okay. I promise it’s okay...can I touch you?”

Fjord nodded wordlessly as his shoulders shook, gripping back just as tight when Cad wound their fingers together and held fast.

“It’s okay,” Cad stroked his thumb across his knuckles, feeling the scars and callus there, “Fjord, it’s okay to feel grief, it’s okay to feel lost and confused and happy, all of these things come with realisations like this. But I need you to understand you’ve just done a wonderful, brave, beautiful thing and I am so very proud of you.”

Fjord didn’t fight his tears, they fell on their joined hands as he gasped out, “But...I don’t know when I’ll feel comfortable kissing you, I don’t know when I’ll be able to say ‘I love you’, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to have sex with you...Cad, I can’t ask you to take all this on.”

“Yes, you can,” Caduceus said, firmly, “You can, Fjord, because you are worthy of love. You are worthy of patience and care and kindness. You can always ask. And I am saying yes.”

Fjord gave a sodden, shaky gasp and collapsed fully into his tears, pitching forward, stumbling until Caduceus caught him. He caught him and he held on tight, as strong as any anchor had ever held a ship, folding him into his arms and letting him sob into his chest. With the scent of fresh breeze and dew heavy flowers around them, Caduceus held the man he loved and who loved him back and let him cry. As he would through so many hard days and difficult times.

Eventually, Fjord’s tears ran out. In Cad’s arms he felt so small, like he’d shrunk down without the weight of the poison he’d purged. He let him pull away for air, holding his face in his hands and stroking his damp cheeks so gently.

He wasn’t looking at the mask of a man who had believed all the lies he’d been given and swallowed the hate he’d been shown for long, long years. But nor was he looking at the man who’d made him laugh so much, who’d been occupying his cafe for the last months, the one who had reached out to the Wildmother and Caduceus with hope and desperation in his eyes.

Caduceus was looking at someone new, someone halfway between those two and someone entirely himself. He was looking at Fjord at the very start of a long and difficult journey. He was looking at the man he now realised the Wildmother had put him on this earth to love.

They kissed, a soft and gentle kiss, shy and sweet as honey. And this time, Fjord smiled from ear to ear.

It would be hard for both of them at times. They would both struggle and cry and need different things at different times. But it would always wash up better than when they started, they would grow together stronger.

And both of them knew the light would always be left on.

A year was a long damn time to keep a secret. Beau was pretty pleased with herself for managing it.

She would hide her knowing grins behind her coffee cup as they’d all sit together in the Blooming Grove and someone would bring up how strange it was that Caduceus hadn’t found someone for all the time he’d been in the city. She’d feel a burst of pride when one of them would comment on how much happier Fjord was looking, how his tusks were coming in, how therapy seemed to be doing him a world of good, if they really were just going to ignore the fact that his accent had totally changed. She’d snort down laughter whenever Caleb would cluelessly comment that Fjord and Caduceus had been in the back room an awful long time for guys who were just supposed to be getting sugar and why did that take two people in the first place anyway?

Because she’d spent nearly her whole life looking out for her best friend, ever since they were in high school. There was no way she was going to miss how Fjord would put his hand in places it had no rightful reason to be during work hours, when he thought the counter was hiding them better than it was and Cad happened to be passing by. She wasn’t going to miss how, whenever busy days or stormy weather would have Fjord paled and shaking, Caduceus would be the person he’d turn to. She wasn’t going to miss the extra long lunch breaks in the back room or how late Fjord would come home some nights, after cleaning up apparently took hours longer than expected.

But she said nothing, shrugging innocently whenever asked, all while watching through the corner of her eye as Fjord stole a kiss to the back of Cad’s hand behind the coffee machine.

There were no secrets with family after all.

[luna-almighty-god]

Guardian Angel N°9 [No passion could be greater than mine]

Hello everyone, this is chapter nine !

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

===

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

===

Lingering in the darkness, not thinking. Not to think about his growing terror, his suffocating spirit. Forget the pain, the long, nagging suffering that gripped his heart. Not to think anymore, to close himself off. To no longer exist.

To push away his horror.

The nightmare suited him so well though. Wasn't it his symbol, his whole being? That darkness that had consumed him from within for years? The latent darkness of his soul, his emotions he couldn't allow to escape.

For he was made only of darkness. The same darkness that frightened him. And as the death knell of silence struck him, he searched in vain for air, a way out, a way to heal his wounds. A way to heal his distorted mind that screamed at him... screamed... screamed...!

[ Screaming at him to wake up.]

His eyes widened in fright, bringing him back to reality. The coldness of the room hit him hard, his bones cracking brutally, vibrating with a rage that threatened to explode.

Bile rose up his throat. He became livid, he straightened himself up and threw himself on his sack. Without understanding, without trying to know, without paying attention to what was around him, he could only feel his salty and burning pearls that escaped his gaze, which moistened his face in half-stifled sobs.

His fits were becoming more and more present, too, much too present. And the mere thought that time was running out for him, without knowing exactly how much time he had left, once again failed to make him implode, to destroy the barrier he had erected around his soul.

He chewed the apple with force. The taste never seemed as vile as that day, giving him only one more reason to regurgitate what he had in his stomach.

But he remained of marble, partly in control of his body. His physical suffering didn't matter too much to him at that moment. There was another element that worried him much more than that.

He was asleep. He fell asleep more and more often, for only a few minutes, but ...

It was still abnormal.

[ Nyx wasn't supposed to sleep ]

*** ***

Ink was stamping his feet, mad with joy and impatience, while a huge smile had taken place on his face. Sitting on Nyx's bed, he forced himself to remain calm but his excitement was far too great: the secret club was open again and started again its ultra-secret meetings ! Well ok, he was getting a little bit excited by himself since this 'secret club' only existed in his mind.

But in any case, being there in the presence of Nyx and Nightmare brought back wonderful memories - well, it was all relative.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” grunted the impatient nightmare master. He'd been pulled from his important files and was hoping to expedite this 'meeting' and get back to work.

Nyx, scribbling at his desk, laughed again:

“Cross must also comes.

- What? Why? Nightmare wondered.

- He could be useful to us.”

At the same time, the door opened to reveal the swordsman, who blew with difficulty and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve:

“S... sorry...have to sow... Horror ...”

This time, Nyx allowed himself to puff. It was true that he had asked the monochrome to come here without being seen, but he didn't expect the other one to take such precautions.

“No problem, thank you for being so careful!”

Cross gave him a smile before collapsing on the bed, exhausted, trying to ignore the gaze of his superior. Ink clapped his hands, overexcited:

“So, tell us everything! How are we going to help these new lovebirds?”

Nyx took a new sheet of paper to draw up the plan:

“The first step would be for each of us to admit that we love the other. Horror seems to be in full denial and refuses the idea of loving Dust, while Dust seems unwilling to think about love.

- Maybe they don't love each other, Nightmare grunts. Love isn't a necessary part of life, you can be happy without going out with anyone.

- I don't doubt it and I agree with what you're saying. Maybe deep down, they're just very good friends. But I have to admit that I have doubts when I see them doing their movie night from time to time, or when I see how well they know each other and can guess the state of the other with a simple glance. The other day Horror wasn't on his plate and Dust noticed it immediately, unlike us. Afterwards, as I said, they may only be very good friends.

- They say that a perfect couple makes two best friends.” commented Cross.

Nyx's smile widens:

“I've heard about it, yes. Look, I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable, nor do I want to force Dust and Horror to be a couple. Maybe we can just put them in situations that will demonstrate whether or not they love each other? Then we'll see what happens.

- And what kind of situation?" Nightmare asked, sensing the trick coming.

- Jealousy!” Ink exclaimed.

The master of the house grunted:

“Is this a joke?

- No! Think about it, if they really are best friends, they'll support each other in going out with their loved ones. But if they're in love, they'll be jealous and won't let each other date!

- That's stupid.

- In what way is it stupid? You'd let Killer go out with someone else, wouldn't you?”

The air suddenly vibrated under the charge of a violent negative aura. The eye of Nightmare began to glow with an icy light as it shot the artist in the eye:

“No way.”

Ink chuckles:

“Ah, you see!

- Tch, shut up!”

Cross sighed while casting a jaded look at Nyx, looking for some support in the drawer's gaze. But his blasé look turned to surprise when he saw Nyx's face. Nyx was watching Ink and Nightmare with a broad smile, as if their childishness made him crazy with joy.

Cross held back any comment, but it goes without saying that the situation left him forbidden.

It was Ink who ended up bringing back the lack of seriousness of this meeting:

“Well, how can I make them jealous? The two of us should get closer to them, shouldn't we?

- Indeed," Nyx confirmed by becoming neutral again. One person will have to hang out with Dust, especially when Horror is around. Physical contact is preferable. As for Horror, it will be better to encourage discussion and laughter. Thus, I think the most qualified will be ...

- ...you.” cut off Nightmare.

Nyx was startled and had great difficulty in regaining his usual neutrality. His gaze struck that of the prince of nightmares as the latter approached with a sly smile:

“You're always being clever without doing anything direct. It's time for you to participate in your plans. Especially since there's no way I'm going to intervene.

- But, you know...

- Killer's going to freak out on me, and I didn't have a hard time proving my feelings to him just to lose him to some bullshit plan. So, you get off your ass and deal with it yourself.”

[Alone]

Nyx used violence to keep himself from flinching.

[Alone]

His faint smile returned as he ignored the pressure on his soul:

“All right, I could probably handle Horror.

- And I Dust.”

Nyx was astonished, as were Ink and Nightmare, who turned their heads to Cross. He had straightened up, massaging his neck with embarrassment:

“Ink is also in a relationship”, he justified himself. “I don't really want Error to come back and blow us up.”

The Creator went into a frenzy of laughter:

“Ahah, it's true that Ruru is terribly jealous!

- Ruru ? relieved Nightmare. What a nickname for...

- Oh, stop being such a grumpy Nighty!

- Nighty?!”

And they left in a squabble, under the jaded and amused gaze of the other two. They finally decided to separate, just to go back to their activities so as not to attract attention.

But when Cross last came out of the room, he was apostrophized by Nyx:

“Thank you”, he said.

The monochrome tilted his head to the side:

“Why, he said.

- For devotion to you.

- Well, you weren't going to handle it by yourself anyway!”

They exchanged smiles, but Cross couldn't help but shudder. Shivering at the strange look in Nyx's eyes, a warm and grateful look. Yet he hadn't done much, had he? He had only offered to help him!

“W-well, I'll go!” the swordsman let go with embarrassment before moving away quickly.

Nyx just nodded his head and watched him turn into another corridor. His smile became painful, he lowered his eyes, clutching his coat where his soul lay:

“... Cross ... why do you always have to protect me ...?”

***

He collapsed to the ground, his skull smashing against the concrete in a terrible, morbid crack. His soul twisted, twisted so violently that he felt his stomach compress, and before he could realize it, he vomited unidentifiable contents, a black and viscous liquid that came to form a vile pool. His face was undone, marked by tears and wounds, and painfully straightened as he struggled with a coughing fit.

“L-Leave him! I beg of you, let him go!” he sobbed, unable to get up, only being able to observe Ink holding Plum by the collar.

The Creator cast an impenetrable gaze upon him, empty of all life, observing him the same way he always does: as if he were nothing. Nothing but the accumulation of his mistakes.

Nyx leaned on his hands and yelped in pain without turning away his tear-fogged gaze:

“He-He didn't do anything! I forced him! He had nothing to do with it!”

Plum was livid with terror, trembling on all sides without daring to intervene, holding his breath miserably in the face of growing apprehension.

Ink took a step towards his son while strengthening his grip on Plum:

“You're going to make me believe that you, who is at the mercy of everyone, who is mostly chained up in a cell, who is worthless... You forced Plum, one of Nightmare's subordinates, to have a relationship with you?”

Nyx remained silent, his throat tying itself in front of his father's gaze, his pupils turning slowly red:

“Hilarious... Really, really...”

A grin appeared on Ink's face and he gently sneered:

“So... So hilarious...!”

His laughter grew louder and more terrifying as his pupils began to alternate between red and yellow, more and more rapidly and uncontrollably:

“Do you think I'm a jerk?!”

Plum coughed as he felt more pressure on his throat, while Nyx petrified in horror. And Ink, who laughed like crazy as his pupils turned an icy blue, used his foot to crush his son's skull against the ground.

“YOU ARE STUPID! STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID! YOU STILL DON'T GET IT, DO YOU? THIS RELATIONSHIP IS NOTHING BECAUSE YOU ARE NOTHING! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE EXISTED, YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN BORN!”

Plum widened his eyes, suffocated, searched in vain for air as his body tried to struggle, to free itself from this monstrous hold. Nyx felt a twitch, tried to get up, but his father's foot struck him violently in the skull, holding him down in a state of semi-consciousness.

And Ink, whose pupils had now disappeared, reaped the joy of his son's distress:

“Ah... ahah ... Pathetic and miserable... so that is what you have inherited from me.... ?”

The fracture sounded like a mirage, a distant sound. A distant sound but yet so close, too close, too violent.

Nyx's soul seemed to shatter. For a split second, he saw the neck of his soul mate break.

Then there was nothing but dust.

Nyx opened his eyes, his mouth open in a scream without the slightest sound escaping him.

[Plum was dead]

It was just a nightmare.

[Plum was dead]

He wasn't supposed to.

[Plum was dead]

He couldn't sleep.

[Plum was dead]

Why... ?

[Plum was dead because of him]

WHY WAS HE SLEEPING AGAIN?!

Nyx stuck his teeth directly into his wrist, ignoring the creak that echoed against the walls, narrowly choking a new scream that escaped him, choking the storm that roared in his lair, choking his rage and sorrow, his anguish and guilt, ignoring his pupils that shot between red and blue, ignoring ... ignoring ... ignoring ... ignorant ...

He sobbed, closed his eyes...

...and cowered a little more in his sheets.

[He wouldn't sleep.]

*** ***

The noise of the hotplates filled the kitchen like every morning, and like every morning Horror thought he was the first one up and had started breakfast for the whole castle. And like every morning for several weeks now, Nyx came quietly to join him at the table, watching him with attention and curiosity.

Aren't you fed up with it?" Horror growled as he did every time. Seriously, do you find it so hard to sleep in the morning?"

[If he knew...]

Nyx smiles:

“And you? You don't have to get up so early either.

- I always go to bed very early, so I wake up early. That makes sense.

- Yes, it makes sense.”

Horror was uncomfortable. He could feel Nyx's gaze on the back of his neck and it was destabilizing him, as always. He grunted, concentrating on his pancakes:

“Don't you want to doodle instead of looking at me?

- My apologies, I just admire your work.”

The cannibal stopped moving, blinking in amazement. His head turned towards Nyx, without him daring to believe what he had just said:

“...you? Are you in admiration?”

Had he known Nyx a little better, he might have detected the embarrassment that had taken hold of him.

Holding his gaze with embarrassment, the cartoonist nodded:

“Yes. You're hardworking and talented.

- ... Well, I just get up and cook, that's all.

- You're the only one in the castle to do so. Not to mention your dishes, which are a delight! Really, I never get tired of tasting them!”

Horror raised an archway:

“Yet it's nothing too complicated. The basis of the basis what. Here, make some pancakes yourself, I'm sure no one will see the difference between yours and mine!”

But Nyx's suddenly discombobulated mine silenced him, and even though the black-boned one quickly regained an impenetrable air, it was too late, Horror had understood:

���Nyx ... Can't you cook?”

The drawer hiccupped, his face suddenly taking on a soft mauve color, a sign of intense embarrassment. He sharply averted his eyes, hiding part of his face in his scarf:

“Indeed, I've never tried it...”

Which made Horror laugh. A bright and frank laugh that bothered poor Nyx a little more:

“I know it's ridiculous, but please don't laugh ...

- Ahah, sorry, really! But admit it's funny! You, who spends your time looking perfect and giving advice, now I learn that you don't even know the basics! How were you raised? By overly loving parents who didn't teach you independence?”

[If only he knew]

Horror's laughter died at the sight of a tense Nyx, trembling, as if the words spoken had violently shaken him.

Horror suddenly realized that he had probably said something stupid, and anxiety took hold of him. Damn it... When he said that Nyx looked perfect, it wasn't a joke. Nyx really seemed perfect, leaving the impression that he was always in control and that he excelled in everything he did. So why did... why did he suddenly seem on the verge of tears?

“N-Nyx...?”

The cartoonist was startled, as if from his own thoughts. He loosened his scarf and turned back to Horror, returning to his usual expression. An expression that suddenly seemed quite false to the cannibal.

“Excuse me, I was thinking!” Nyx replied with a slight smile.

Horror felt his soul squeeze. How many times had his comrade found himself playing the comedian, to appear so sincere in his lies?

“... okay. You want me to teach you how to cook this time?”

Nyx tilted his head to the side:

“.... Doesn't that bother you?”

The cook had a smile on his face:

“Of course he didn't.”

The black-boned one hesitated for a long time, then laughed:

“Well, why not? It might be fun!

- Yeah. Let's do it tonight?

- Yeah, perfect!”

Yes, the evening was fine. That would give him time to... do what he had to do.

*** ***

Maybe he was paranoid. No, not "maybe"... Nyx knew he was paranoid. He was always, every moment, despite his apparent calm. But it was stupid, he didn't have to be anymore. He didn't have to be, did he?

[There was no longer any danger.]

Of course you had to be suspicious. But from there to watching everyone at all times?

No, no, that was stupid. He had to stop. The others were right: he paid too much attention to their private lives. He was getting too involved in lives that no longer concerned him.

But, um... (Sighs)

He watched with a keen eye the breach he'd opened up in front of him. A breach that allowed him to see the whole world of UnderLust, especially a familiar skeleton that was walking around the streets looking like nothing, a shopping bag in hand.

Sugar Plum was still as beautiful as ever. No, it wasn't. No, it wasn't. He was even more beautiful than before. Nyx could not help but melt in front of his resplendent smile, his joy of life that emanated from his whole being. Because Plum had now blossomed: freed from his hated work, he had dared to confess his feelings to Grillby only to discover that they were mutual, and so he fell in perfect love with the fireman while finding a quieter job to earn a living without selling his body.

A sweet victory for Nyx, who enjoyed seeing the other skeleton finally live a life he liked.

[A life he wasn't a part of]

His smile cracked as his soul cracked.

Yes... Here, Plum didn't know him. At least he only knew him by sight, if he hadn't already forgotten him.

“... Ahah... What I expected... ?”

Nyx had a nervous laugh, passed a hand over his undone face. He had prepared himself from the beginning, knowing that he would go from disillusionment to disappointment, but each bad surprise managed to make him feverish, to weaken him a little more.

It was silly, wasn't it?

He knew the consequences. He had decided on his own to change the course of events, and each of his choices had led him to a painful conclusion. Seeing the way that timeline had unfolded, he realized the sad truth: everyone was much happier... without him.

[And ironically, thanks to him]

He's still laughing, a bitter laugh. You'd think his life would never stop being ironic.

His gaze returned to Plum as he entered an alleyway, probably with the intention of going home. Silent, Nyx continued to follow him with his eyes, moved by the vision of the one he had loved so much, and still loved so much ... before he frowned at the sight of three monsters.

Plum seemed to have been ambushed. Oh, it wasn't the first time. Many monsters had a hard time swallowing the fact that 'their' fetish prostitute had run away, but usually they would attack when the skeleton was in the company of his brother or boyfriend, or simply when he was in full control of his magical abilities.

But this time it was different. Plum had spent an exhausting day and found himself alone on his way home, surrounded by monsters greedy for violence and sex, in a dark and deserted alleyway...

Nyx's blood only made one turn, he didn't ask himself the slightest question: a gate had already opened in front of him and he rushed in without waiting, to land directly on one of the assailants, smashing his face against the asphalt with gentle violence, without killing him.

Plum widened his eyes, surprised by the sudden appearance of his saviour, while the other two monsters retreated in fright.

Nyx offered them a mischievous smile:

“Gentlemen, if you'll allow me to attend the party...”

The monsters simultaneously grunted, threw themselves on the black-boned skeleton who quietly dodged them, moving with ease as if dancing, only to end up turning on himself and making a mocking curtsy to his opponents.

It was not his purpose to kill them. Only to scare them away.

The humanoid dog that he had put down got up grunting, his nose bleeding. He was the quickest to return to the charge, but Nyx only had to step aside for his opponent to explode his fist against the wall, screaming in pain at his visibly broken hand.

It was simple. These opponents were no match for him.

The other two monsters were a giant religious mint with sharp fangs and a humanoid rabbit that came and attacked him with a metal bar. Nyx dodged for the umpteenth time before suddenly disappearing into the shadows of the alley, leaving his enemies panicked and watched around them with apprehension.

Neither thought to look at their feet, and it was only too late that they saw their own shadows move to make Nyx appear to be grabbing their ankles, before firing a sharp blow to knock them to the ground. The skeleton disappeared again, leaving the three oddballs moaning in pain and incomprehension, and crawled out of the shadows near Plum :

“Are you all right?” he hastened to ask, madly worried.

Plum was startled and turned sharply back to him, stunned:

“Y-Yes! But are you all right?”

A lovable question that brought a tender smile to Nyx's face:

“I feel much better when I see you in one piece... Be careful when you go home alone.

- Yes, I'm sorry...”

Plum sighed before smiling shyly at him:

“Thank you very much. I didn't think ... I didn't think I would ever see you again.”

[ "Neither do I." ]

Nyx remembered this answer which reminded him of the horrible night he had spent.

But you can't erase the past.

“I've come to believe you're a guardian angel!” Plum laughed softly.

*

Plum used to visit him in his cell

“I love you, little angel...” he whispered to him.

*

Nyx stopped breathing, assaulted his memories once again, frozen, disconnected from time.

A poor mistake.

[He should have remained suspicious]

He perceived the attack far too late, had just enough time to push Plum before he suffered a violent pain, shuddering when the religious mint stuck its fangs in his wrist.

[The wrist he bit in the night, which he hadn't thought to treat]

Nyx vrilla. This suffering awakened a deaf terror, an impulse that seemed to break the limit he had set for himself.

His pupils disappeared.

Shadows metamorphosed... ...into black, slimy tentacles. Tentacles that skewered the mint with a sharp blow, making it scream in horror before it fell into a pile of dust.

The other two froze in horror at the sight. Fearing they might be the next targets, they ran away without asking for the rest, horrified.

Nyx returned to him.

A cold sweat ran down his face.

He turned his head, feverishly, to Plum, who sat on the floor and watched him in amazement and confusion, his face livid:

“N-Nyx... you...”

The black-boned one retreated, terrified of his own reaction, terrified of the dust he had caused, terrified of his pupils, which he knew had turned blue.

He swallowed.

He threw himself into a new portal.

His body fell heavily on the floor of his room. His erratic breathing, unable to control his jolts, he rolled himself into a ball against the wall, could not choke the sob that escaped him. He brought his broken wrist against his chest, trembling all over, the pain making him want to vomit.

[Pathetic and miserable]

He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, his soul beating far too hard.

[He shouldn't have existed]

He needed it. He needed it more and more, more and more.

His able-bodied hand grabbed his bag blindly.

The touch of the apple seemed to him more painful than ever.

He bites into it once. Just once.

The pressure was too much.

He burst into tears.

===

Next Chapter

You can support me on my Utip or on my Ko-fi account !

===

Credits =

Dreamtale->  Joku

Error -> LoverOfPiggies

Ink -> Myebi

Killer -> Rahafwabas

Cross -> Jakei

Dust -> Ask DustTale

[paige-from-my-book]

Aaaaannnnddd because I'm a useless lesbian, obviously I'm also writing a sports team romance. Here's a snippet from my rugby story (because I'm obsessed with rugby)! This one will take a long time to finish, it clocks in currently at 37 pages, but has a long ways to go. It is still pretty rough around the edges, so I would love feedback on how to make it better!

"I run up to practice as fast as I can. The spotlight is going to be on me enough being the new girl who became captain without even playing on the team first.  The downside to being the coach’s family friend.  Or upside, depending on how you feel about earning spots of leadership.  I’ve never been handed anything.  But no one on the team will see it that way.   All these girls know is that I’m coming from a few towns down the road and am taking who knows what popular girl’s spot on the team.

No one sees the years of experience, or hours of practice to make sure every tackle is right, or the drops of sweat I shed at the gym.  All they see is a new girl coming in, taking some well-liked leader out of the running, and trying to tell them what to do.

All of that would have been looming enough without my chemistry class running late, meaning now I’m showing up as the girls are finishing their lap.

I throw my bag down and get my cleats on as fast as I can. As I’m finishing up my second shoe, I hear a throat clear.

I turn around to see a girl a few inches taller than me looking down with annoyance.   She has bleach blonde hair, icy eyes, and looks like she could punt me across the pitch if she wanted to.

“We like to start practice on time.  We’re all busy, be considerate,” she says, raising one eyebrow.

“I know, I’m really sorry, my class went late. I rushed over as fast as I could,” I explain.

“Chris!  Hey no worries, there Becca.  Chris let me know she was going to be late.”  The sound of Len slows my quickly rising heart rate.  Even if the girls here don’t think I belong on the team, they can’t be too rough about it while the coach is here.

“Oh, you’re Chris!” a shorter girl smiles, holding her hand out.  “Rex.  How’s it going? You get started off with your classes alright?”  She’s stouter than most of the girls there and has a much lower voice. Her small face glistens already with sweat.

“Yeah. I am. It’s good. Ya know, just got moved in and such.  Learning where everything is.”

“Oh, so you’re our new field captain,” a third girl says, almost coolly.  I turn to look at her and have to hold back a gasp.  She looks down at me, since my head only comes up to her shoulders.  Her dark, almost black, long hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but some of her bangs have escaped her headband already, blowing in her toned face.  Her eyes stare into mine, like an ocean blue beating against the dark brown rocks that were my eyes. Her tank top shows off her muscular shoulders and neck as they ease into her rising and falling chest.

“Y-y-yeah, I uh…. I-I am,” I stutter, realizing I was staring at her incredible jawline for a bit too long. Great first impression, Captain. 

She nods.  “Right. Well we usually start practice off with a lap and some dynamic stretching.”

I nod back. “Oh for sure. I don’t want to be changing too much here.  I just want to… You know… Get us some w’s….” I stammer, clapping my hands together.

The tall girl gives me an amused look, also raising an eyebrow, but not in an annoyed way.  Her look was more of a “What are you even doing here and who put you in charge?”

“Right so with Chris now at scrumhalf, we’ll need to switch some people around.  Jordyn, you’ll be on the forward side now, and we’ll need to switch some others around to make everything fit.”

“Coach, you know I’m a better back. I just can’t run with the ball as well when I’m a forward,” Ocean Eyes complains. 

“Sorry, Jordyn. The only spot I have for you is in the pack, now.  All the other backs just aren’t as good at being a forward as you are.”

Jordyn looks down and I feel my face getting red.  As Len starts shouting out instructions for our first drill, I gently nudge Jordyn.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ I start to apologize.

“It’s fine,” Jordyn says, looking back up and beginning to walk to where some cones are set up.

“Jordyn, really, I-“

“Seriously, Chris.  It’s fine.”

I sheepishly follow everyone over to where the cones are set up. As far as first five minutes on a team goes, that was probably one of the worst-case scenarios.

Later that week I go to my Spanish class.  I sit in my desk about fifteen minutes before class starts.  I’ve found the earlier you show up, the better pick of seats you have. 

I sit at a desk in the second row, next to the wall.  I sit on my computer and look at different housing off of campus.  The dorms are already getting on my nerves.  Apparently 10 pm quiet hours doesn’t actually mean it’s quiet by midnight.

“Hey there, Chris,” a familiar voice spits my name out awkwardly.

I look up to see Jordyn and another girl from the team standing in front of me, almost cornering me to the wall.

“Hey, guys,” I say, trying to give a friendly smile, but I know it looks faked and terrified.

“Do you just shoot up the ladder in everything you do?” the other girl asked with a half grin on her face.

“I uh…. I did pretty well on the um… entrance exam,” I manage to get out.

“Clearly.  I might need to cheat off of you,” Jordyn says, tapping my notebook lightly with her pen.  She flashes me an equally forced half smile, not even showing her teeth, and turns to sit down next to some friends of hers. 

The professor starts class by handing back our tests.  As I go up to grab mine, Jordyn catches my arm on the way back to my seat.

“How’d you d- Holy crap!” she exclaimed as she saw my test score.

“Oh, it’s just… I actually had a student that was from Spain stay with my family for a bit and we would talk all the time….”

“Yes, I’d encourage some of you to seek out help, maybe form study groups that don’t just include your friends, Miss Bellings,” the professor comments, hearing our conversation.

Jordyn pressed her lips together and looked back up at me.

My eyes and mouth opened wide as I tried to stammer out an apology.

Jordyn held up her hand and shook her head. “Whatever newbie. It’s not your fault you’re perfect.”

“I’m… I’m really not.”

Jordyn is already talking with a guy and laughing at something he said, so I walk the rest of the way back to my seat.

I pour coffee into my mug.  In high school I was fine getting up for eight o’clock class every day.  In college I have to slap myself to wake up enough to get out of bed. 

“Man, eight AM’s, right?” someone leans over and mutters to me.

“Yeah, definitely,” I mumble back as I continue fixing up my coffee with some cream. 

A hand next to me provides a stir stick. I take it and look up to say thank you to see Rex.

“Oh, hey, Rex.” She looks amused that I'm only just now realizing it's her standing next to me.

“Hey Chris.  You excited for our first game this weekend?”

“I’m not sure.  The girls don’t seem to want to listen to me.”  The last couple weeks at practice had been hard. Any time I tried to introduce a new play or give tips or run a drill it was always met with resistance. One particular forward, Ashleigh, would sometimes outright ignore me, even if I talked directly to her.

“Once they see you really play in a game, they’ll have no choice but to respect you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Chris, Jordyn and I watched those tapes you sent Len.  We know his brother’s been training you with that men’s team in your town. Plus you’re always so good at letting us know what to do and changing your coaching to fit the players. They’d be nuts not to.”

“Why did you and Jordyn see the tapes?”

“Because I’m the president and Jordyn was the field captain.”

I feel my face go red again.  “Man.  I really screwed things up for her.”

“She knows why.  Soon everyone else will, too. And it’s not like she minds.”

I look back at Rex as we start walking to where my books are. “I just don’t like being handed things, and I feel like that’s all she sees from me.”

Rex gives me a small smile. “She doesn’t feel that way. She may feel a little intimidated that you beat her in everything, though, including Spanish.”

“How do you know what Spanish I’m in?” I ask, trying to remember if I saw her in that class.

“Jordyn and I are roommates. She told me you looked familiar on the first day of practice and then once she found out you were in the same Spanish class, she told me.”

I nod. Jordyn talks about me? And not in a negative way?

Rex pats my shoulder as I stop at my table. “But anyway, give it time. The team will warm up to you.”

Those words ring in my ears as the actual ringing ebbs away. That had been a hard hit.  Ashleigh should have never passed me the ball high like that, especially with the other team so close.  The wind had left my lungs completely and leaves me sputtering and coughing a bit.

“Three, come here please.  Her feet were still off the ground, that’ll be an illegal hit, ball to blue,” I hear the sir call.

“Chris, you okay?” Rex asks, standing over me.

I nod, still unable to talk.  Finally I’m able to suck air in just in time to cough it back out.  My breathing steadies as the forwards come to where the ball is. 

“Hey girls,” I wheeze.  “We gotta keep those passes low and smart. No more hospital passes.” I have to cough a few more times before my breathing is fully steady again.

Ashleigh rolls her eyes as we set up and keep play going.

After the game, I look for ice to put on my cheek.  I can feel a swelling there from getting kneed at some point. 

“Hey, Chris, good job,” Maddy says. Maddy is a blonde, about 5’6” inside center.  She has curly hair and tattoos covering her toned arms.  “You really helped the flow of our game.”

I offer a smile but it hurts my cheek so it turns into a wince. “Thanks, Maddy. I appreciate you being with me when I would make runs.”

“Yeah.  I’m sorry the whole team hasn’t warmed up to you.  You really do make a difference, though.  They’ll come around.”

“Hey and even if they don’t, I just have to wait three years for them to graduate,” I joke. God three years. Transferring schools sucks.

Maddy laughs and claps a hand on my shoulder.

“Jokes on you, I’m gonna be a super senior and outlast everyone on the team,” Jordyn says, walking by us to grab something out of her bag.  “Hey, your cheek isn’t looking so great, are you putting something on that?”

“Well, I was going to go look around for some ice of some sort,” I answer, not sure at first if she was talking to me.   I can’t tell if she’s concerned or not.  Her face so rarely shows emotion, I have no idea if she likes me or not.

“Oh, don’t bother.  Just put one of these on it,” Rex interrupted, also walking up to our small group.  She hands me an ice-cold beer.

“Oh, I’m only nine-“

I’m cut off by a hand on my mouth.

“We don’t want to hear it, as long as you want it, it’s yours,” Rex says, taking her hand away from my face.

I take the beer, not wanting to seem ungrateful around my new and desperately needed friends.

I crack the beer, take a drink and put the cold can on my cheek.  I’ve only had beer a couple of times in my life.  My father always wanted someone to drink beer with, and since my older sister hated it, he’d let me try his from time to time.  

Still, this isn’t what my dad would order. The light blue can shouts college budget beer.  I’ll need to get used to this.

“There you go, kid,” Jordyn says, patting me on the back with her muscular arms.

I smile and then wince at her.  I’m glad she finally said something to me that was positive.  Ever since I learned it was her place on the field I was taking, I’ve wanted to make it up to her.  Maybe tutor her if she doesn’t hate me.

She chuckles at my attempt at a smile.  “Man, gotta love rugby.”  I notice long cleat marks down her leg.  She favors it slightly as she walks.

“You coming to the social, Chris?” Rex asks.

“Oh, I don’t know.  I might try to go back and do some homework.”

“I might go back to do some homework,” Becca says in a mockingly dorky tone.  “Come on, Chris.  You played great today, you earned a fun night with some beers.”

I nod sheepishly, again not wanting to be rude.  I can never tell if Becca likes me or not either.  She’s nice to me at times and never makes fun of me or disrespects me.  But she also never goes out of her way to talk to me. But she’s straightforward and works hard.  She’s given me absolutely no reason to dislike her.  Maybe one by one I can win the team over."

[frossen-fantasi]

Part 2 of 4 - The Reckoning

As always, this charades game was hosted by Sven the reindeer.

There was tension between the sisters, which seemed to go unnoticed by Kristoff, but it was commented upon with quick, sly remarks by Olaf.

Such an almost continuous stream of words rolled out of his mouth that no one really seemed to follow them, with perhaps the exception of the reindeer Sven who at times looked down at him with curiousity or irritation - with an obvious attraction to that big carrot.

Kristoff acted out sliding a ring onto a hand, self-hugging, and two people angrily pointing fingers at each other quarreling. Anna guessed “sisters,” which Olaf noticed. It wasn’t guessed correctly by anyone, but turned out to be “Marriage.”

Olaf bounded out in front of everyone, laughed and pulled a slip of paper. Quickly he ran around shaking a hand-branch at them. The little snowman was joyfully bouncy and acted out like he was one, then two people talking to each other, switching quickly from side-to-side. He pointed to Elsa’s hand, next the floor, then jumped straight up and down. Lots of wildly random guesses totally missed the mark, and no one got Olaf’s answer, which was “Breaking the ice.”

Elsa elegantly placed her first draw back into the basket, being stared at by Sven shaking his head in disapproval. For her second draw, Elsa made heart-shaped motions in the air with her hands, which Olaf guessed correctly as “Love.”

Anna started out making the same love-symbol by shaping her hands and body, but went on to holding hands, hopping up and down, making a silly duck face, and twirling around, holding out her arms and letting her skirt swing to a hoop, which turned out to be “Sisters.”

And so went their game on into the night, until it was Olaf’s bedtime - and for that reason it was also everyone else’s.

Elsa still had the parents’ bedroom as her own, so that was where she went, but it wasn’t long before Anna joined her, in a very cute nightgown with a big bow on it.

Elsa noticed the nightgown Anna was wearing. She flustered and blushed profusely.

“Wow, Anna. You look, great.”

She wasn’t sure if she should put her gaze on Anna’s beloved face, that darling nightgown, or the lovely bow slightly loose around her cleavage. Stop staring! she thought. That’s why she ended up scanning up and down between her face and the dress. Hum… is it the nightgown? This realization struck her like electricity passing through her body.

The last time she saw Anna in nightwear... it was usually something cute and comfy. But her style and Elsa’s were a little different. This one was a little more wide-neck, a little bit more… coquette fashion.

“Found something you like?” Anna’s tone was almost teasing.

“I – where in the world did you find that nightgown?” Elsa looked away, pretending to smoothen out the bedsheet. Anna shrugged and got under the covers.

“A lady gave it to me as a gift. She said it’s for my husband to be. I don’t know why she said that. Do you like it? This bow can literally be untied.

Come here.”

Anna lifted the covers and gestured for Elsa to get under them along with her.

“I see. It’s for Kristoff then.” Elsa’s jaw was set and frost crawled from her hands. She laid her head on her pillow, keeping her distance from Anna.

Anna giggled, “I’m just teasing, but I’m glad you like it. You’re always wearing beautiful gowns and dresses.” There was a brief pause and Elsa could see the shift in her sister’s eyes. They looked forlorn. “You look good in everything.”

Elsa could feel her face warm. Luckily it was dim enough in the room that Anna couldn’t notice… she hoped.

“You always look lovely yourself, Anna.”

Anna’s gaze still hinted sadness, but this soon washed away as she playfully replied “Oh please.”

“Tell me more –” she said in a dramatically gaudy tone, her eyes widening with a curious intensity, making a dramatic pose out from the sheets. Elsa laughed holding her hand to her mouth, and shook her head. Anna decided to scoot closer, remembering how it is to be with her sister and not the fifth spirit who was never home. “Mmm, your smile is always so bright, no matter what you put on, your smile always shines like a sunflower.” Anna smiled and shifted again, getting comfortable as if a child listening intently to a story.

Elsa laid her head down on a pillow again, meeting with Anna’s eye, eyes to eyes now. “And there are your eyes,” the older sister said, quieting and deepening her voice, “Anyone who sees them knows how gentle yet strong you are.” Anna breathed in, and her smile slightly loosened as her full attention was on Elsa. Her eyes did sparkle with joy. Elsa made the mistake of glancing down when she noticed Anna’s chest rise. That damn bow… she looked back up, “Freckles.”

Elsa swiftly recovered her composure, “Yours… “ Elsa paused, suddenly without realizing her own hand was grazing Anna’s cheek. “They’re like little stars kissed all over your face, or how autumn leaves look when they fall.” Elsa felt herself trailing off, as if wanting to say more, but nothing came. She mumbled into silence. The freckles that had hypnotized her and bewitched her hand to them, she now noticed, were washed with a warm pink. She looked back at Anna, who was blushing. She was blushing?… oh…

Anna tilted her head down, nervously playing with her fingers. The words from Elsa’s tender lips were too sweet, they made her heart beat. She wondered if Elsa could hear the rhythm pulsating under her skin, feeling hot air breathing on her hair. Anna looked up and met Elsa’s bright blue eyes. Elsa was gazing at her. Elsa reached over and placed a finger outstretched under her sister’s chin, then leaned in while pulling her face closer. Her heart was pumping her blood so rapidly that she felt dizzy like she was going to explode. She jerked away.

“S… So, are you going to tell me what you were thinking about when you made that ice barrier earlier today?”

“I don’t know, Anna, I… “ the Queen regally turned her head to the side and pursed her lips, making a profile that reminded Anna of a painting of a goddess. “I wanted to ride in here and make you so happy... make sure that you would be mine.”

I’m yours. You’ll be mine. Anna was no stranger to these sentences. She had read hundreds of thousands of novels in those void years without Elsa’s company. Countless times she had imagined her Prince Charming would come for her and save her from the emptiness. She was always the energetic one, bright, optimistic, fun and chatty. The description of Anna of Arendelle – and she couldn’t deny it. Ironically, people seemed to forget that light always comes with shadow. How many nights she felt so lonely in the grand library, reading her book alone, wondering if she would ever have a chance to meet The One? She imagined kissing the love of her life, the love who was hers, the one who would never leave her alone. So, if her sister said so, does that mean she would be the one holding her hand, loving her unconditionally, kissing her… She was shocked. She imagined her sister kissing her. Even more to her surprise, she didn’t feel at all against this idea.

However, there was a slight problem if she wanted to pursue Elsa. Kristoff.

She was engaged to the guy, and even now she couldn’t believe she even said yes. Did she really love him, really? More than she loved Elsa?

No, thought Anna, no.

Her love for Elsa was immeasurable. But then, why did she say yes to the second guy who proposed to her? Now that Anna thought about it, she felt heartbroken. She remembered the heavy grief of when she believed Elsa had gone too far and drowned.

Then the elated happiness of the moment she saw Elsa galloping towards her and then so gracefully unmounted from the water horse, and their eyes locked again.

She was so ecstatic and then Kristoff proposed, and she said yes because how could she say no in a moment of such unprecedented happiness. It was an extreme situation, and she said yes, but mostly she was happy about Elsa’s return - it was not really because of Kristoff that she was so overjoyed.

Dread crept onto Anna’s chest. Had she made a mistake for the second time?

It had been months since the forest was freed, and yet the idea of marriage with Kristoff had not crossed Anna’s mind very much, besides wondering if she actually should. Maybe this was because now she was Queen and had a lot of duties, but then again she could have someone do the planning. She frowned, which did not go unnoticed by Elsa. “Anna? Are you okay? Look, I’m so sorry for saying weird things like that. Please forget I said it,” she expressed in a bit of a panic.

“Elsa, we need to talk,” Anna uttered with a seriousness. Elsa looked at her, patiently waiting for her to continue.

“When you said you want me to be yours, do you really mean it?”

Elsa panicked more. She wasn’t sure why she said that. All the abnormal feelings that she experienced today for the first time in forever. The excitement she felt on her way to Arendelle, the warmth she perceived when Anna was hugging her, the anger she lashed out when Anna was leaving her alone there, the pain and bitterness she went through when she saw Kristoff kissing her cute little Anna. With Anna, it was always joyfulness and love. That was why she didn’t quite understand those negative feelings in her today. She was riding an emotional roller coaster, all different types of feelings were exaggerated. Not that she was really a master of concealing her emotions, but years of practice should have made her better than this.

Uncertain as she was, she still nodded yes.

“So, before we talk, I want you to kiss me.” Anna spoke out firmly.

Elsa’s mind was reeling.

Anna asked her to kiss her. Kiss Anna, her sister, her sister toward whom she was having a not-so-sisterly feeling. “W-What? A-Anna! What in Skadi’s name… What?!” Elsa gaped as her heart beat erratically, as if it was about to explode inside her. Her usual pale cheeks were dusted with shades of red. Her breathing became labored.

“I need you to kiss me. Now.” Anna almost pleaded, and moved into Elsa’s personal space. Little hands behind her back, she stretched up onto her toes toward Elsa’s mouth in expectation.

Elsa recoiled as Anna advanced. Her powers started to go haywire as the entire expanse of wall near them covered with frost. No Anna, No. Elsa was not ready for this. Nowhere near ready for such intimacy between them, especially as she was still trying to figure out her feelings. What if Anna wanted something more than simply being sisters? Would that intrude between her and Kristoff?

Elsa pressed her hands against Anna’s shoulders, holding her back. “Anna.” Her mind swirled with all the possibilities of how this could play out, and if this was what she chose, how it would affect their relationship, with everyone. What if she denied Anna, and Anna, embarrassed, would no longer want to see her? What if she was just confusing her happiness with, with this?! What if – “Elsa” the small quiet voice silenced Elsa’s running thoughts. She brought her worried eyes to her sister’s.

She could feel something swelling behind Anna’s calm expression. Something desperate, fighting and wild. But Anna was taming it. “I need to know… if this is what… I want, and if you can decide…” Elsa held her breath, “if you want it too, or if you want to leave.” A sober sadness washed over them both. Frost was still plastered over the wall behind Elsa, and time seemed to stop.

For the first time in a long time, Elsa herself felt frozen. The air was still and chilled from her powers, but this same air soon would be filled with Anna’s warm breaths as she again drew closer to her sister. Elsa wished she could freeze time itself to hold it still, but her eyes led her in another way as they trailed to Anna’s cute freckles, then her soft lips, the same color as Elsa’s own.

“Anna, I still love you as a sister,” Elsa thought, unable to pull the words into being. Their heads rested on the other now.

“But… “

Nose to nose

“But for some reason, I… “

The space between them became undeniably close.

“I don’t want you to stop this either.”

Elsa could no longer feel the tight pounding in her heart, lost by the soft warmth of Anna’s lips on hers. It was warm and felt more like home than she ever would have expected. Well, she never would have expected this. Anna’s flowery scent was making Elsa let go of a breath she had not realized she had been holding for so long.

Anna’s kiss was not tantalizing nor greedy, it was warm and gentle… purely honest and sweet. The frost slowly began to melt away from the wall behind them. Hands that had held and clenched Anna’s shoulders now began to loosen their grip. Elsa had a choice to make now. Anna was ready and waiting for her to decide.

“Open your eyes, Elsa,” Anna said sincerely. Elsa didn’t realize she had her eyes shut tightly when they kissed. Slowly she opened her eyelids, and all her sensation gradually came back to her.

Candlelight reflected on Anna’s face. Anna was gazing at her like there was nothing else in the world.

Anna used her thumb to stroke Elsa’s lip gently. With a soft but warm smile, she muttered “How do you feel?”

“I feel like you were made for me.”

“Well, we are two sides of the same bridge,” Anna glanced down, tucking hair behind her ear. She looked back at Elsa with a sideways glance, “Right?”

Elsa gushed and felt blissfully happy. Somehow now in balance. She petted her sister’s arm and let her know “I love you.” “I love you more!” was the quick response.

They held both hands to hands, and gazed into each other’s eyes. Anna giggled, and Elsa giggled too.

Then Elsa picked up a pillow, squished it a bit, and challenged her sister to a pillow fight. “Are you up for it, Anna?”

[ftazcras]

was  that  azura  chesky  i  just  saw  hurrying  across  the   quad  ?  you’d  think  they  would  know  what  happens  when  a  sophomore  is  late  to  class .  then  again  ,  the  fashion  major  has  been  known  to  be  pretty  finicky .  maybe  being  so  effulgent  helps  keep  them  out  of  trouble  .  i  heard  they  are  bicurious  and  love  daddy  kink  &  choking .

name   :  azura  juliette  chesky  .

nickname/s   :   az , zura  ,  aj  .

birthdate   :   november  fifth  ,  thus  making  her  a  scorpio  .

age   :   twenty  one  .

gender   :    cisfemale  ,  she   ╱  her . 

hometown   :  charlottesville   virginia   but  she  lived  in  venice  italy  for  four  years  after  mother  left  .

sexuality   :  bicurious  .

   INCEPTION :

honeyed  hues  and  rosy  lips  ,  you  are  porcelain   features  and   the  daughter  of  a  man  who  would  give  you  his  world  and  everything  beyond  that  ..  you  grew  up  with  financial  privilege  and  the  sound  of  sweet  laughter  falling  from  reflected  features  .   your  childhood  consisted  of  cotton  candy  skies  blending  into  the  craved  oceans  that  devour  painted  toe  nails  .  the   gentle  tug  on  your  arm  as  you  allow  your  twin  brother  to  pull  you  into  one  of  his  schemes  .   you  do  not  like  to  talk  about  the  day  your  mother  walked  out  on  you  ,  nor  the  nights  you  begged   the  skies  above  you  to  answer  all  of  the  why’s  you  had  ..  why  did  she  leave  ,  why  weren’t  you  good  enough ..  why  did  she  not  love  you .  it  shaped  you  more  then  you  would  like  ,  but  you’d  never  admit  that  .  

PERSONALITY  AND  FAST  FACTS  :  

effulgence  in  human  form  is  accurate  for  azura,  she  is  a  bubbly   energetic child  who  does  not  know  how  to  stop  her  lips  from  rambling  .   as  her  brother  would  announce  ,  she  likes  the  sound  of  her  own  voice  (  despite  everyone  else  around  her  having  a  different  opinion .  )  

she  is  clumsy  ,  which  is  ironic  considering  she  is  a  beast  on  a  cheer  mat  .  but  the  minute  she’s  off  she’s  tripping  .  falling  .  busting  ass  .  all  of  her  most  embarrassing  moments  consist  of  her   falling .

she  is  a  goof  ball  ,  tends  to  always  be  teasing  someone  .  

entirely  affectionate  and  not  always  in  a  sexual  way  ,  she  genuinely  just  enjoys  simple  acts  such  as  holding  your  hand  .  resting  her  head  on  your  shoulder  .  she  is  the  friend  that  is  always  jumping  all  over  you  ,  will  sit  on  your  lap  despite  there  being  an  open  spot  right  there  .  and  of  course  ,  when  in  an  relationship  her  affection  does  not  differ  .  this  intensifies  when  she’s  drunk  .

despite  her  being  a  doll  baby  ,  when  it  comes  to  getting  to  know  her  on  an  emotional  level  she  can  be  difficult .  hard  to  please  ,  hard  to  get  .  

she  is  convinced  everyone  will  leave  her  ,  and  with  that  she  is  either  clinging  to  you  or  is  pretending  like  you  dont  mean  anything  to  her  to  help  convince  herself  that  when  you  do  leave  it  wont  hurt  .  

her   abandonment  is  not  something  she  admits  to  herself  ?  but  mostly  it’s  because  she’s  playing  this  game  of  hey  i  barely  even  remember  her  who  even  cares  i  dont  need  anyone  who  doesnt  need  me  .

she  is  entirely  loyal  to  her  friends  ,  and  takes  loyalty  seriously  .  there’s  nothing  worse  you  can  do  then  betray  her  (  or  lie  to  her  )  .

she  craves  meaningful  bonds  with  others  ,,,  it’s  her  most  toxic  and  selfish  trait  .  has  this  weird  thing  of  needing  to  know  that  if  she  disappeared  one  day  that  people  would  miss  her  ..   lose  their   minds  .  it  ties  into  her  constantly  feeling  disposable .

is  passionate  about  everything  she  does . super  ambitious    likes  having  things  to  put  her  energy  into  .

she  hates  being  viewed  as  anything  but  the  fun  loving  angel  she  usually  is  and  with  that  she  rarely  speaks  about  her  negative  emotions . refuses  to  cry  in  public .  which  is  funny  because  she  is  definitely  a  insensitive  to  the  streets  and  sensitive  in  private  kind  of  person  .

she  is  learning  that  being  her  sensitive  vulnerable  person  is  not  a  bad  thing  but  its  hard  for  her .

is  an  adrenaline  junkie  !!  likes  doing  things  that  make  her  heart  race  !!  loves  travelling  but  that’s  her  dads fault  .  

would  live  on  the  beach  if  she  could  (  she  grew  up  on  a  beach  literally  lived  in  the  water  )  .

she  grew  up  involved  in  almost  every  sport  .  soccer  ,  volleyball  ,  softball  ,  cheerleading  ,  she  even  did  competitive  surfing for  two  years .

cheerleading  is  her  sport  .  and  it  is  something  she  still  does  in  college  and  damn  is  she  good  at  it  .  ( prefers tumbling to most things ) 

she  is  one  of  those  party  girls  i  can  already  feel  in  .  stumbling  in  at  four  am  and  still  getting  up  at  nine  am  to  head  off  to  class  and  then  practice  before  doing  it  all  over  again  ..  she   is  adventurous  and  never  says  no  to  something  that  seems  fun  so  ??   dont  tempt  her .

she  speaks  fluent  italian !! 

highkeys  likes  being  handled  .  rough  sex  is  just  up  her  alley  .  likes  being  spanked  .  aggressiveness  turns  her  on  .   clearly  she  loves  being  choked .  is  definitely  a  please  daddy  puppy  eyes  and  all  kind  of  girl  .   more  submissive  then  anything else  .  cuffs  ,  ropes  ,  she’ll  do  it  .  oral  ,  tends  to  love  giving  but  who  doesnt  love   receiving  .  the  more  comfortable  she  is  with  you  the  more  she’ll  tend  to  do  . 

WANTED  CONNECTIONS  :  

platonic  soulmates  .  i  mean  picture  your  favorite  tv  duo  and  this  is  them  .  i  want  the  full  nine  yards  .  knowing  everything  about  each  other  to  their  orders  at  taco  bell  to  their  biggest  regrets .  summer  breaks  and  winter  breaks  you  can  spot  them  on  one  another  stories  doing  something  absolutely  stupid  .  they  text  non  stop  just  to  talk  shit  and  vent  about  their  day  ..  non  sexual  bubble  baths  .  sharing  clothing  .  anytime  one  posts  a  picture  you  can  see  the  other  in  the  comments  with  an  annoying   yesssssss  baby  .  

a  group  of  friends  !!  i  just  want  a  group  of  three  of  four  that  are  always  together  doing  the  most  .  they  have  a  groupchat  ,  post  pictures  non  stop  on  instagram  together  .   snapchat  stories  while  one’s  yelling  at  the  other  and  the  other  two  are  doing  something  stupid  and  laughing  about  it  .  inside  jokes  and  even  petty  arguments  that  always  end  up  in  being  solved  …  of  course  after  a  few  subtweets .

the  first  love  ?   good  terms  or  bad  terms   .  each  other’s  first  everything  .  still  have  such  a  soft  spot  for  one  another  .  could  still  be  friends  .  

an  on  and  off  lover  ..  something  a  little  messy  .  stupid  things  like  arguing  about  seeing  another  girl  on  his  story  or  watching  her  run  off  with  another  guy  .  late  night  texts  and  soft  forehead  kisses  .  only  if  they  could  get  their  shit  together  and  admit  how  much  they  actually  love  each  other  .

confidant  ?  something  real  soft  .  opening  up  about  their  darkest  secrets  .  her  finally  admitting  to  someone  that  she’s  scared  everyone  will  leave  her  .  drunk  sobs  as  they  play  with  her  hair  and  tell  her  everything  is  okay  .  that  she  will  be  okay  .

a  partner  in  crime  .  almost  getting  arrested  together  ?  three  am  stops  at  diners  to  eat  pancakes  and  bacon  .  vacations  that  consist  of  things  they  can  not  repeat  .  encouraging  each  other  to  take  that  last  shot  or  hook  up  with  that  person  .

friends  with  benefits  .  it  does  not  mean  anything  .  it  doesnt  ,  it  really  does  not  ..  or  at  least  thats  what  they  tell  each  other .   pulling  on  another  way  from  the  crowd  to  have  a  quickie  in  the  bathroom  .  late  night  on  rooftops  giggling  and  smoking  .  blowjobs  before  practices  and  games  .  wondering  if  they’re  more  then  friends

honestly  ??  give  me  all  types  of  plots  with  different  dynamics  .  i  live  for  cute  friendships  and  angst  angst  angst  .  i  want  childhood  friends  that  remind  her  of  when  times  were  much  simpler  .  family  friends  she  considers  cousins  because  that’s  how  close  they  are  .  ex  friends  that  refuse  to  speak  to  each  other  .  ex  friends  with  benefits  that  stopped  because  one  caught  feelings  or  maybe  they  were  just  bored  .  bad  influences  and  good  influences  ..  toxic  friendships  because  not  friends  and  then  friends  again  is  so  common .  one  sided  friendships  .  unlikely  friends .  love  /  hate  relationships  !  ex  best  friends  who  miss  each  other  like  crazy  ,  old  flings  and  teammates  .  study  buddies  who  help  her  keep  her  grades  up  in  the  mist   of  crazy  stories  and  hangovers .  friends  who  only  get  along  when  they’r e  both  drunk  out  their  minds .  actual  cousins  from  her  mothers  side  ???  her  dad’s sides  ? 

[comicteaparty]

July 29th-August 4th, 2019 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from July 29th, 2019 to August 4th, 2019.  The chat focused on Millennium by Deo.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Millennium by Deo~! (http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Remember, though, that while we allow constructive criticism, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic. Below you will find four questions to get you started on the discussion. However, a new question will be posted and pinned everyday (between 12:01AM and 6AM PDT), so keep checking back for more! You have until August 4th to tell us all your wonderful thoughts! With that established, let’s get going on the reading and the chatting!

QUESTION 1. What has been your favorite scene in the comic so far? What specifically did you like about it?

QUESTION 2. Do you believe Keith and Aaron will get their acts together as Luzio wants, or are they doomed to be thieves forever? What is your reasoning regardless? Also, how do you think the two became so downtrodden in the first place?

Nutty (Court of Roses)

1) I'll admit, my favorite scene is Luzio comforting Sage after the terrible nightmare he had. It's a small scene, but parts like that really hit me hard.(edited)

2) "Doomed" assumes that being thieves is bad by default. ;P In all seriousness, while klepto habits die hard, the two seem good-hearted, so I feel confident that whether they clean up their act or remain thieves, they'll have good intentions behind it. I think, based off bits of their story we can glean from conversations ( http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/107/ http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/113/ ), their state may have to do with them both avoiding their families to be together, or running off altogether. At least Aaron's dad keeps in contact, so that's something.(edited)

snuffysam

All the scenes of Luzio and Sage interacting are so pure . I agree, Nutty, this scene was my favorite (http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/104/). I also love the scene of the gang fighting in the colosseum (http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/44). A strong action scene is always a plus in my book!

I suppose it's nice that Aaron's dad keeps in touch, but i'm not sure that counts for much when your calls are attempts to arrest your son lol.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 3. At the moment, who is your favorite character? What about that character earns them this favor?

QUESTION 4. What do you think was going on in Luzio’s life when he met Keith and Aaron? How do you think the two of them helped Luzio? What other theories or questions do you have regarding Luzio’s personal life story?

RebelVampire

1) My favorite scene in the comic so far is probably when Luzio realizes Sage isn't with them and basically busts through a wall. Not only was it really comical, but it was excellent character development for Luzio both showing his power level and the depths of his ability to care for someone. But also it was badass. 2) No. Keith and Aaron gonna be thieves forever. Maybe thieves with real jobs, but still probably thieves. I don't see either them as the type to suddenly be like, "Oh yeah we should follow societies rules." I don't think they have enough respect for society for that. Which I leads me to how it happened. I get the impression that they're the type of got really down on their luck, society didn't help them, so ya know, if society wont help damn society. Or something like that.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 5. What has been your favorite illustration in the comic so far? What specifically about it do you like?

QUESTION 6. What do you think was the end goal for the experiments done on Sage? Besides plant powers and health issues, what other consequences do you think there are? Do you think Sage will grow past them (and if so, how)? Also, will Sage remain with Luzio?

RebelVampire

@snuffysam I don't see the problem. What's a few threats about calling the police between father and son? XDXDXD

3) Probably maybe Luzio is my favorite? That's a hard call cause this is the sort of comic where I'd really like more content before I can diehard settle on anybody. At the moment though, I like that Luzio has this cute blend of being strict and being the type of person who wants to let all the strays in the house. It makes for a cute and interesting dynamic. 4) Luzio strikes me as the type who left, did some stuff, and then it suddenly dawned on him he didnt really know what he wanted to do with himself anymore. Thus he was filled with wanderlust, maybe poor and stuck in emotional turmoil. If this is the case, then Keith and Aaron are at least good for being cheerful, and what better ways to cheer someone up. I am excited to find more about Luzio's home, cause compared to the others I get the impression he was relatively more privelaged. So I'm eager to see if that's the case or if Luzio is just good at hiding everything.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 7. Which characters do you enjoy seeing interact the most? What about their dynamic interests you?

QUESTION 8. Do you believe Luzio giving so many people second chances is a good or a bad thing? How do you think it will overall help or hurt Sage? What do you think the story can teach us about life and the nature of second chances?

RebelVampire

5) My favorite illustration is probably all the ones rom the nightmare sequence. http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/comics/102/ I love the vague angles and the dramatic change in color. It's a fantastic way to really drive the horror in while at the same time capturing the dream like quality nightmares can still have. 6) Given what we see happening on Kessiah's planet and with the new location, I imagine plant growth is pretty important. So important that just leaving plant's to their own devices means bad things. So the end goal of the experiments on Sage were to create plant experts who could vastly increase the speed at which colonization happens and prevent famines by being able to watch for crops. As far as consequences for Sage, there's definitely mental trauma there. Although maybe he has more than just sway over plants. Like he'll wake up one day and discover he can photosynthesis. I don't think what happened to Sage is something you grow out of though. He'll learn to manage it emotionally at some point, but it'll be a permanent scar upon his soul. Sage better remain with Luzio. I'll be mad otherwise. O_O

RebelVampire

QUESTION 9. What sorts of art or story details have you noticed in the way the comic is crafted that you think deserves attention?

QUESTION 10. After escaping John, why do you think Stitch remained with Keith and Aaron? Further, why do you think she didn’t want to tell Luzio the reason? How might her blossoming relationship with Kessiah affect her relations with the others?

RebelVampire

7) Ummm....ummm! It's a tie between Luzio and Sage and then Keith and Aaron. I like Luzio and Sage's relationship for how different then are. Luzio has the stren work thing going on whereas Sage is kind of a soft, doofy dude. So it's really beautiful to see them still manage to keep along with each other and, as I've said several time before, demonstrate the depth of their care for each other. Keith and Aaron I liked though because they do have these similar goofy attitudes. They're like a great dynamic duo and when they're together, they bring the barrel of laughs. That being said, I also like the serious moments that sneak in too, showing it's not all fun and games either. But mostly they just bring so much energy to the story and I love it. 8) I mean...I believe in second chances, but it's gotta bite Luzio in the butt one day. Cause just imagine if he invites the wrong person in and they do something to Sage. Like a mole from John or something. That being said, I also can't say its a bad thing, cause distrusting too much is also how you wind up never getting along with anyone. Overall, so far, I feel like the story shows us that a healthy distrust is good. You don't want to give everyone the keys to the city on day 1, because they might fleece you.

9) The scars. There are so many scars, so many different types, and I love it. Particularly, though, I love the shading on Stitch's scars. It's that right blend of simple and detailed that makes it look very groteque and painful. It's the sort of scar I can look at, wince, and not wanna know how that happened cause it looks like it hurt like hell. 10) Honestly, I get the impression Stitch felt a) indebted to them and b) had nowhere else to go. Cause no matter where Stitch goes, there is probably a risk of John showing up or something. As for why she didn't want to tell Luzio, maybe its a vulnerability thing. Like Stitch just didn't want to admit needing companionship cause its a sign of weakness or something like that. I can't imagine Stitch is gonna be happy when Kessiah is ready to blow the joint, and I think that will be a negative mood that with affect everyone.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 11. What do you think are this particular comic’s strengths? What do you think makes this comic unique? Please elaborate.

QUESTION 12. Do you believe John is more of an entity for good or more of an entity for evil? What do you think John’s ultimate end goals are, especially given the increasing deaths going on? Also, why do you think John abandoned Sage and the lab Sage was in?

snuffysam

My favorite character is easily Stitch. I love the way she starts out shy and standoffish, but grows into being more confident and part of the crew's family. She also has my favorite design of the cast. With that said, all the character designs in this comic are great - in fact, I think it's Millennium's strongest aspect. The way different elements work together with colors to make a cohesive design. Like, you could show me any of these characters in any outfit and with any artist's artstyle and I'd still probably be able to recognize them.

It would be a wild twist if John turns out to actually be a good guy the whole time. I suppose it's possible that he's going about a noble goal in a corrupted way? For Sage, perhaps he was created as an experiment to see if humans can... survive on sunlight, maybe? Whatever he was really going for was probably a failure, given that he abandoned the lab.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 13. What are you most looking forward to in the comic? Also, do you have any final thoughts to share overall?

QUESTION 14. Ultimately, do you think Kessiah will get the help she needs for her planet? If so, do you think she’ll go back, or will her bond with Luzio’s crew sway her to stay? Even if her planet gets help, can the planet actually be saved?

RebelVampire

11) I have to second @snuffysam on this one. The character designs I think are the strongest asset. Not just visually speaking, but also in terms of their personalities as well. They all have their own interesting role to place in the story, and see how each individually triumphs or fails is really interesting. Of course, though, the visual designs are all super amazing as well, with lots of beautiful details in them. 12) I don't think John is really either. He strikes me more as an "ends justify the means ethics be damned" sort of scientist. So he's going to drag and progree society even if that means he has to murder half hte universe. As for John's end goals, I assume part of it is out a good willed intention to bring more prosperty. I think some of it is just progress for progress' sake. And I think this latter is a lot of the reason that might have to do with why so many ppl are dying more. Progress comes with certain sacrifices at some point. As for abandoning Sage, tbh, I don't think John meant to. I think John had to flee, intended to come back for Sage, but then was under the impression that nope, everyone was lost. Or something like that.

13) I'm looking forward to Kessiah getted help for her planet, ironically. I think her intentions coming out is really gonna drive some drama and ill feelings that we'll get to enjoy. 14) I kind of feel like this is a yes and a no. Like maybe Kessiah will get the help, but the help will be too late. Or something like that. I think Kessiah will want to stay with Luzio's crew though. Not to say it'll be an easy decision but I think bonds + new experiences + bad things happening on the planet will drive her to want more. or at the very least, to punch john in the face like everyone else wants to do.

LunarDolphin

Joined a bit late but I'll answer what I can cause I really do love this comic 3) Stitch (But I recently found it it may be because she has a few similarities to one of my characters, also her character building with sage is so good) 5) Favorite illustration is page 3 of chapter 6, that whole space transition had me audibly gasp it was so pretty

LunarDolphin

That sent early but.... 7) Luzio and Sage of course, Luzio and Kessiah also have a great dynamic, Sage and Stitch's growing friendship is adorable and I love that they're opening up to each other, and Stitch and Kessiah crushing on each other gives me life 13) Luzio telling Sage "I wont leave you, okay?" after the nightmare with John is going to come back to bite them, I can feel it, something is going to happen between the two of them and John. And it's not "'"confirmed""" he's alive but I really hope he appears in the comic.

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Millennium this week! Please also give a special thank you to Deo for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Millennium, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/

Deo’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/deo101

Deo’s Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/deoart

Deo’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/deo_101

[mlpdestinyverse]

“A Helping Hand”

In the face of uncertainty, Eventide Twister finds the courage to aid another kid in need.

Feat: Eventide Twister,  Monochrome

Story and Description Under The Cut

-Playing with some stray grass blades in her lap, Eventide awkwardly glances between her best friend, Heather Tart, and two unrecognizable fillies from another class as they sit together in a circle during recess. She quietly listens in as they heartily chat away about different things, from class to hobbies to the latest trends. As much as she wants to add in her own input, a wave of nervousness swallows her words when she notices how deep in conversation the three already are. She finds herself feeling self-conscious, far too aware of the two strangers she had never spoken to before. Eventide had noticed that her friend had been befriending the fillies for the past two weeks. She only wished Heather could have warned her before having them meet up with them during their half-hour break outside.- Filly 1: -raises eyebrow and smiles- You’re really quiet, Eventide. Eventide Twister: -perks up a bit at the sudden acknowledgement. But before she can respond, she hears Heather laugh beside her before giving the top of Eventide’s head a light pat Heather Tart: Pft, she’s always like that. Filly 2: (?) -glances at Eventide- Well, what about you? What kind of music do you like? Eventide: (!) -finds herself smiling excitedly at the subject- Oh! Ireallylikesongswithpiano! Or really nice guitar! My mom knows how to play guitar and she’s been trying to teach me but now she might schedule piano lessons for- Heather: -quickly interjects, wincing as she quietly hisses- Slow down, Eve. Eventide: -halts completely, glancing at Heather to find her friend eyeing her with a frown. She can’t help but stare, bewildered and taken aback. Never before had Heather ever corrected her. Turning back to the other two fillies, she realizes they’re glancing at each other before looking back at her without a word. Feeling a pang of guilt, Eve looks away- Sorry… Filly 1: It’s okay- ooh! -both she and the other filly notice another group of kids - presumably their friends - on the other side of the playground. One of the colts waves them over- Sorry, we gotta go guys! Filly 2: -stands up with the other filly, and waves at them as they move away- See ya Heather! Bye Eventide! Heather: -grins and waves enthusiastically- Bye guys!! Eventide: -smiles shyly and waves as well. Admittedly, she feels relieved that they’re alone once more. She looks up at Heather as the filly giggles happily and stands. When Heather holds out her hand, Eve happily gratefully takes it, pulling herself up- Heather: -blissfully swings her and Eventide’s hands together- SEE, I told you! Aren’t they the coolest?? They’re, like, the smartest girls in our grade and- -Heather yelps as she turns and ends up tripping over a stray root. Eventide tries to pull her back by her hand and is ready to steady her, but Heather manages to balance herself- Eventide: Areyouokay?? Heather: Uuugh, I’m fine…-continues to tug Eventide along by her hand- I didn’t see it, that’s all… Eventide: -frowns, moving to match her friend’s pace- Shouldn't you wear your glasses? Why’d you take them off? Heather: -pouts- They make me look lamer than I already am… Eventide: (!) Hey! You’renotlame! Heather: -scoffs, eyelids drooping- Maybe. But being a part of a family of hicks is. -groans and slaps a hand over her eyes, sliding it down- I’m telling you, Eve, I can’t WAIT until the day I can live it up in Canterlot and get away from this stupid farm life. It’s so embarrassing… -As Heather frowns, looking rather distant as they walk (forcing Eve to keep an extra eye on the ground), Eventide finds herself...worrying about her friend. Time and time again, the lavender filly has vented about how she felt about her family; what it was like to feel like a nobody in such a large, expansive family tree like her own, unable to stand out amongst her many cousins. How she desperately wanted to be more than just a farm hand like her parents and most of her family. Not enjoying the sight of her friend in one of her negative moods, Eve can’t help but try to offer positivity- Eventide: You can be an Apple AND be cool! Look at Applebloom and Applejack! One day you’ll be real big like them, and- Heather: Hmph...Applejack’s really annoying and just forces me to do farm work when I don’t want to...it doesn’t matter if she’s friends with the princess, she’s like, the lamest out of all of Princess Twilight’s friends. And Applebloom might be kind of popular, but she’s still just some farmer with her weird accent and dirty clothes and whatever. I doubt anyone takes her as seriously as her other friends. Eventide: -looks at the ground nervously. She doesn’t agree with those statements, recalling how kind both mares were towards her, but doesn’t want to accidentally worsen her friend’s fragile mood- Oh… Heather: -sighs dreamily, cupping her freckled face with her free hand- But it’ll be different for me! No one will ever see me as just another Apple! -holds out her hand in front of her, as if she could already see the future- One day, everyone will be seeing Heather Tart walking with Canterlot’s greatest socialites and nobles!! I’ll be going to fancy parties and talking to all of the famous ponies, and even the princesses! Eventide: -smiles, squeezing the filly’s hand. This is the side of her best friend that she admires and loves seeing; the one that cherishes her dreams- You’ll totally get there! You’re really good at blending in and talking to ponies! Heather: -grins, clearly priding in that comment- It IS my talent~ -gestures with her head towards the group of kids in the distance that were no doubt a blob of color in her eyes- Which is AWESOME, cause I read that knowing how to make social connections is important if you want to make it to the top~!  -meeting Eventide’s eyes, her own magenta orbs glitter with ambition- And if I’m going to get to Canterlot’s high society one day, I need to start early. Eventide: -smiles sheepishly- That’ssocool...I wish I had a big dream like you. I like doing a lot of things, but I still don’t really know what I want to do… -Eventide glances down at her cutie mark displayed on her shoulder; a colorful twister with out-of-place music notes dotting the design. How that aspect connects to her talent is beyond her. No matter what she did, looking at it still felt weird. To think flying fast enough to catch Ms. Pinkie Pie's stray, flying cake at her own birthday party the previous year was all it took for her to gain her mark (it was a shame that the pretty dress her mother had bought her for the occasion managed to get torn on twigs in the process) . Flying fast was nice, but what was she supposed to do with that talent? Everypony kept recommending the Wonderbolts, but the thought just...didn’t click with her.- Heather: -chuckles and shrugs- Well, whatever you end up doing, learning to stop being so socially awkward could help. Eventide: -winces, feeling a bit of discomfort in the comment. The strange smile Heather flashes her only worsens the feeling, as if the filly found some amusement in her own remark- Idotry... Heather: Psh, well try a little harder! Eventide: -lowers her gaze, uncertain how to respond and still feeling discomfort- Heather: -hums obliviously, swinging their hands again as they follow the back wall of Friendship Elementary and head towards the side of the building where the entrances to the outdoor bathrooms were- Anyway! You’ll go inside the bathroom with me, right?? It’s all creepy and quiet in this corner- -Heather quiets when the two of them hear some voices from around the corner of the building. While at first Eventide assumes some other kids were either leaving or entering the bathrooms themselves, the two fillies slow to a halt when they begin to make out voices- ???: Please give it back! ???2: Whoops! Missed it again! ???: Stop throwing it like that! ???3: HAH, come on, this way! Eventide: -exchanges wary glances with Heather before the two of them quickly tiptoe to the corner together, peering around it-

-She immediately sees an older filly and an older colt throwing a blue notebook to one another. Between them, a shorter pegasus with dark hair and light streaks turns from one kid to the other, their rounded, stressed green gaze following the notebook- ‘Bullies...even Princess Twilight’s school has them.’’ Heather: -cringes, whispering- Yikes...nevermind, let’s go. Eventide: (!) -whispers- Shouldn’twehelpthem? Heather: -pulls her head back in disbelief, whispering harshly- Wha- no! They’ll just go after us like that kid! -tugs at her hand- Come on! Eventide: -brows narrowing back, Eve can’t bring herself to budge from her spot. Hearing the kid’s pleas, watching how increasingly upset they’re becoming, Eventide feels a great deal of worry, as well as anger, as she watches the scene- ‘What would mom do…’ …-biting her lip, she soon finds her body moving from their hiding place, ignoring Heather hissing her name. With clenched fists at her sides, she manages to find her voice- Hey! -All three kids turn their heads towards the voice, only to find Eventide standing there, wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf- Colt: Psh… -raises an eyebrow and rests his hands, one still holding the notebook, onto his hips- What? What do you wa- ???: -realizing the colt is distracted, they dart for the notebook and attempt to grab it back- Colt: (!) Ha, no way-! -yanks the notebook back. However, the harsh movement and tugging causes the notebook to tear, leaving a cover and numerous ripped and crumpled pages in his hand- ???: -gasps, staring in horror and distress at the mess- Filly: Well geez, way to overreact kid. Colt: -laughs- Whoops! Hey, you’re the one who pulled first-! Heather: I'M TELLING PRINCIPLE TWILIGHT!! -the three ponies, including Eventide, turn towards the direction of the loud voice, only to find no one there. The sound of quick retreating footsteps around the corner can be heard, causing the two older kids to exchange worried glances- Filly: W-wait, we were just playing! Colt: -throws the papers in his hand to the ground and begins running, completely ignoring Eventide as he passes her and quickly rounds the corner with his friend in tow- Yeah stop, it was an accident!! Eventide: -while she feels some worry for her friend, she hears soft rustling and turns, seeing the remaining pegasus on their knees to pick up the scattered ripped papers. Taking in their disheartened expression, Eve moves to pick up the closest paper to her and moves to kneel by the kid. Holding out the paper, she smiles sadly- Here. ???: (!) -surprise flashes across their face. Another second passes before they carefully take the paper from her, their voice soft- Thank you… Eventide: They were real jerks…areyouokay? -notices how the kid’s mouth presses into a tight line, their green gaze downcast and only deepening her worry. Yet they nod- W-whathappened? How come you were over here alone with em...? ???: -sighs, gathering the papers into their lap- ...I saw this dragonfly and...really wanted to draw it. It flew over here so I followed it. But I ran into them instead... Eventide: -puzzled- Draw-? -Eve cuts herself off as she picks up a ripped paper she noticed laying behind the kid, her expression full of wonder as she gives it a good look.  A half-finished drawing of a pegasus with bug-like - dragonfly-like- wings stares back at her. Eventide: Holymoly...thisissopretty! ???: -peers at the drawing in her hand. But their expression quickly twists into dismay- No… Eventide: -looks up- W-what’swrong? ???: -balls up their fists in their lap, miserably staring at the ripped paper- I drew that for my friend...h-he said he liked dragonflies the last time I saw him, and he’s been really sad lately so I just- -bites down on their lip and lowers their gaze, tears pricking at the corner of their eyes, their voice coming out hoarser- Now it’s ruined. Eventide: -ears flatten, watching the kid wipe at their eyes with a fist. Newfound determination bubbles up within her and she shoves a hand into one of her vest pockets- Holdon! ???: (?) -glances up at her in confusion- Eventide: -whips out a small roll of clear tape- Therewego! ???: -blinks- ...you...carry tape with you? Eventide: My dad says you can never go wrong with tape. -places a hand on their shoulder, smiling gently- It’llbeokay! Watch! -lays the drawing down and lines up the ripped edges before carefully fixing the rip with tape on both sides. Feels the kid quietly watching- Aaand there! Itstilllooksamazing! And even if you don’t give this one to your friend, maybe it can help you if you want to redraw it? ???: …-slowly exhales- Yeah, that’s...that’s a good idea. -takes their drawing back. Meeting Eventide’s blue gaze, they finally offer her a soft, sincere smile- Thank you… Eventide: -grins cheerily- Mhm! Hey um, what’syourname? ???: Oh...my name’s Monochrome. But it’s kind of long, so um...you can call me Mo, or Momo- Eventide: (!!) -claps her hands together, eyes sparkling- ‘Momo’issocute! Okay! Um, my name’s Eventide Twister! YoucancallmeEve! It’s nice to meet you! Monochrome: -blushes- That's a really pretty name. Um.... -nervously shuffles the papers in their lap- Nice to meet you too... Eventide: How come I’ve never seen you before?? Monochrome: Oh. Well, I’m in 5th grade. Eventide: (!) Whoa, you’re two years older! Monochrome: Yeah. And I usually draw during recess. -shifts their eyes away- I’m...not really good at talking to ponies. Eventide: Aw, that’s okay…-glances down and sheepishly rubs the back of her hand- I’mthesame… Monochrome: -stares at her curiously- Really…? Eventide: Mhm. I get real nervous talking to anyone I don’t know. But it kinda helps to have a friend with me- -both Eventide and Mo glance up upon hearing the ringing of the school bell. Standing up, Eve offers Monochrome a hand, one they stare at for a moment before gently taking, pulling themself up- Monochrome: Well...thanks again, Eventide. -smiles softly- Bye then... -begins walking away, the remnants of their drawings and notebook clutched against their chest- Eventide: (!) I’llseeyouaround! -when Mo turns to give her a puzzled look, as if surprised by those words, she continues with a bright beam- I wanna see more of your drawings next time! Maybe we can doodle together! -Something about that lights up Monochrome’s eyes, and they eagerly nod and smile back. As they begin to rush off and round the corner, Eventide notices them suddenly jerk back, as if almost running into something. Ducking their head, Mo murmurs a quick apology before walking around whatever is around the corner. To Eventide’s relief and delight, Heather walks into view, though she eyes Monochrome with a strange look as they retreat.- Eventide: Heather!! -runs towards her- Heather (!): -opens her arms and catches Eventide as she throws her own arms around her. She snickers- Well geez, missed me much? Eventide: -pulls back to clasp Heather's hands between her own- I’msogladyou’reokay. Did those bullies catch up with you? Heather: PFT, catch up? I hid behind the first door I saw! -smirks and pulls her hands back to cross her arms in satisfaction- They were dumb enough to go running around for somepony they never even saw! Eventide: Huh…? You...didn’t tell a teacher? Heather: -scoffs- No way...! I’m no snitch, Eve! I already told you they’d start picking on us if we messed with them! If that kid wants to report it, they can speak up for themself. Eventide: -face twists in confusion, her ears flattening- A-areyousure...? Heather: 'Course I am. Speaking of, I saw you were making friends with the loner?? Eventide: ‘Loner’…? Heather: Yeah, that kid. The one who just sits in a corner all quiet and writes stuff in their notebook. Eventide: Oh! Theirname’sMonochrome, andtheyactuallydraw! They’re really good! Heather: Eeeh sure… Eventide: And they’re really nice! You should meet them! Heather: -laughs uncomfortably, glancing off to the side while rubbing her arm- Yeah, not really the kind of friend I should make, Eve. -raises an eyebrow, that strange amused smile on her muzzle again- But I guess you being friends with them kind of makes sense? Eventide: (...??) -hesitantly smiles back, not quite understanding- Huh? Heather: (!) -takes Eventide’s hand and begins leading her again- C’mon! We’re gonna be late! Don’t want to miss choir, right~? Eventide: -manages to perk up again at the mention of one of her favorite classes- Ah, right! -following a step behind her friend to their lined up class, she worries about Monochrome, just catching a glimpse of their dark tail as they disappear into the school with their class. New prickles of guilt hits her when she spots the two bullies following the older classes into the building.- ‘Is it...really okay to just say nothing?’

Presenting the day Eventide and Monochrome met as kids, kill me softly. I just want to give a fair warning to the people who will inevitably ship ChromeTwister that I too am fond of this relationship and if different ships can be canon in different AUs, this one is absolutely a thing in some AU of Destinyverse. But in this main canon timeline, it isn't the end-game relationship in mind for either of them. Doesn't mean you can't enjoy their ship of course!! Have fun with different pairings in Destinyverse! Just keep it in mind and um, don't have ship wars? That's all I ask. <xD

If you want a reminder of what their general friendship was like, check out Mo's little speech in "Admirer".

[hopefullylovelyxx]

Ça te rend belle.

part one

Authors Note:

This is my first writing post so sorry if it’s not fantastic but I’m growing as a writer everyday so it’s only up from here. Also all the French in this story stems from me being in AP French and all the mentions of high school memories/actual events taking place at the high school are based on my high school experience in America so sorry if you’re from another place and it doesn’t make sense. Also I’m not sure if this high school name is an actual high school somewhere so if it is then oops. If you have ANY questions or comments regarding the story PLEASE send me an ask and I’ll happily answer. Huge thank you to @nips-and-tats for encouraging me to go through with this story and giving me the confidence to post my writing <3. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy. xx

. . . . . .

Wednesday August 15, 2018 6:52 am

Anxiety. Tests. Homework. Studying. Anxiety. Loneliness.Embarrassment. Insecurity. And more anxiety. The words that describe Y/N’s high school years best. As she walks up the steps to the high school her university assigned as her student teaching school she’s puzzled as to why she’s choosing to spend the rest of her life working in the exact same environment that she desired to break away from just 5 short years ago yet, for some odd nostalgic reason the environment is sort of comforting. She walks up to the front office door preparing herself by rehearsing what she planned on saying and running through the scenario she just practiced on the car ride over. Once she has everything on the tip of her tongue she pulls the door open and walks in with a smile she hopes they don’t look too closely at or else they might see right through her nerves and fear.

She approaches the desk and confidently begins to say “Hello I’m-“ but is cut short by the secretary holding her finger up for Y/N to take as a cue to hold her sentence. Y/N is taken aback as the scenarios she had thought up didn’t include one in which she’d be cut off by the secretary on the phone with a parent she presumes based on the answers being given. “Yes ma’am school started Monday....well I don’t know why your son would say the school burned down....okay...okay....no problem....thanks you too, bye.” She hangs up and looks up at Y/N with a warm smile, “How can I help you?”

Y/N smiles back and scraps whatever she’s practiced for the past 24 hours because now it’s all a bunch of jumbled up words that make no sense. “Um I’m Y/N, the new student teacher for French. My university said they sent over all the information.” She looks a bit confused then recalls the memory and says “Ahhh yes! Welcome to Meadow High School. I’m just gonna need to see your ID please.”

As she retrieves her drivers license from her bag Y/N recalls a brief memory of her mom getting her out of school early after calling her about fake stomach aches having to show the office secretary her ID. She shows the older woman and she gives Y/N a badge on a lanyard with her name and the schools name. She recalls all her years of schooling staring at her teachers badges yearning for one of her own.

She puts it on and has to keep her excitement contained as the secretary who she learns is named Kathy, gives her a map of the school and explains that the language buildings are just straight out of the office door leading into the school. “202. Can’t miss it. Mrs. Meyers is very...patriotic about the French culture.” Y/N just nods wondering what on earth that could mean.

As she walks out into her new but temporary life she immediately understands what Kathy was talking about. She walks the small distance between her and the French flag wrapped around a Eiffel Tower statue nearly as tall as her and knocks on the door before entering.

She’s met with a tall blonde, blue-eyed, woman perhaps in her mid to late 50’s rummaging through stacks of papers. She looks up at Y/N and says “ah you must be Y/N.” She stands up and shakes her hand. Y/N recalls the past couple days of emailing Mrs. Meyers. Just going over the basic classroom norms and requesting that 1 of the 2 class periods Y/N was required to teach be 6th period because she wanted to leave work early. Once Y/N informed her that the university has a policy of an actual teacher being present for each lesson a student teacher gives, Mrs. Meyers explained to Y/N that she had done this with multiple student teachers in the past. Not wanting to stir anything up Y/N just accepted it and although teaching seniors AP French wasn’t her first choice- as she felt she couldn’t connect with the older students as they might not take her seriously being only 5 or 6 years older than them- she requested first period as it was Beginners French aka French 1/2 meaning most if not all the students would be Freshman.

Most people would dread being stuck in a class in front of the youngest more immature of the school but Y/N felt the opposite. She felt that it was a privilege of some sort and great responsibility to teach the younger students not just French but also set them up for success in all aspects of life and prepare them for the next few years of school. It filled the maternal role Y/N always felt growing up wanting to take care of her baby dolls with extra care and now as a 23 year old wanting to care for students as her own children in a weird sense.

She knows that this student teaching job is only a semester long and that by the time winter break is over these students won’t be hers anymore but at least they were hers at all. Having only 4 months with them is good enough reason to make time with them even more precious she thinks. Or perhaps the school will allow her to stay another semester, perhaps she can be a teachers aid if they don’t allow her to keep her French teaching position.

Y/N is shaken out of her thoughts as Mrs. Meyers asks her to set the printed seating chart up under the document camera to be projected onto the white screen at the front of the classroom. Y/N recalls dreading those box representations of desks with names in them, she never liked change. School gave her enough anxiety, adding change to it made everything worse. The recollections of finding out she had to sit next to someone she didn’t know makes Y/N’s heart race for a second then quickly stops once she brings herself back to Earth remembering she’s 23 and not 17.

Once the bell rings Mrs. Meyers turns to her and says “Get ready for hell.” Y/N gives a little laugh but is quite confused as to why she would say that to someone who’s here to practice how to be a teacher.

She shakes the weird statement off and quickly brushes over the black silk of her plain romper and adjusts her jean jacket making sure the cuffs are folded perfectly. She looks down at her feet and wonders if she should’ve worn other shoes or if gold sandals will be fine for the tasks ahead. Now second guessing her entire outfit choice Y/N shakes herself out of it remembering it’s summer and 1000 degrees outside plus she’s a student teacher, who cares what she’s wearing.

When the first few kids come in they are noticeably confused by her presence but when they look up at the seating chart they’re too annoyed to even care. They all share glances and eye rolls as they go to their seats.

Y/N doesn’t know if she should want silence in the classroom being a teacher and all because the overwhelming sounds of the students talking are helping to make the negative thoughts in her head be muffled. By the time she knows it the second bell rings and the announcements go on continuing to stall for her. She can’t hear announcements over the students talking but is not bold enough to quiet them down and she’s not sure she wants to.

Finally the announcements fall silent and Y/N takes a deep breath. As she opens her mouth to speak Mrs. Meyers beats her to the punch. “Everyone be quiet!” The young faces notably aggravated turn away from their conversations and look at her. “This is Ms. Y/N and she’s a student at UCLA ( my university/location for the story but you can imagine any university or any location of your choice :) ) and she’s going to be your teacher this semester.” She looks at Y/N to take over and goes to sit at her desk in the back right corner of the room. She smiles and says “As Mrs. Meyers said, I’m Y/N. I go to UCLA. I’m studying to hopefully be a French teacher and I’m looking forward to teaching you all.”

A girl in the middle of the class raises her hand and Y/N smiles happy to have her first ever question from a student. “Yes?” The long blonde haired girl with foundation a few shades too tan but maybe that’s the style -who knows it’s been years since Y/N has been in high school- furrows her eyebrows and says “So like...you speak French fluently?” Y/N nods and says “I started learning French in 7th grade and continued all the way until college.”

A boy in the front row raises his hand and once Y/N gives him a nod he says “Say something in French.” Y/N thinks for a moment then settles on the basic introduction, after all this is just beginners. They probably don’t know a word of French. “Bonjour classe. Je m’appelle Y/N. J’ai vingt-trois et je suis très content d’être ici.”

They all stare at her in awe of her skill. All their hands fly up and Y/N says “I’d love to answer all your questions but I really want to get to know you.” There are some audible groans so Y/N says “You get a candy if you state your name and something about yourself.” Almost everyone’s hands go up and Y/N smiles to herself.

. . . . . .

*annoying iphone alarm that makes all our ears bleed*

“Fucking hell!” Harry groggily yells trying to stop his alarm. When he can’t seem to feel his way to his phone he groans and sits up grabbing it off his nightstand silencing it. 5:30 am. He throws his head back against his headboard reminiscing to just last week when he was able to sleep in. Which for harry meant sleeping until 7.

He’s always been an early bird ever since he moved to LA. Perhaps it was the time differences between here and England or maybe he’s just got the soul of an old man like all his ex’s have inquired for some odd reason.

He never quite understood that but assumes it’s because of his music taste and love for literature. It could be the fact that his closet is full of suits, nice button ups, trousers only your 70 year old Irish-uncle would find appealing, and his array of paper boy hats.

Whatever it is, Harry doesn’t mind. His confidence is thick like the copy of War and Peace he has on his bookshelf and will never deteriorate no matter how many shots anyone takes.

This confidence has also made Harry seem quite closed off to some. This mixed with his rather reserved nature has definitely made his social life quite dry. But he’s learned to become accustomed to it.

Harry rises out of bed in nothing but a grey tee shirt and black Calvin Klein underwear. He sleepily walks into his apartment bathroom and strips the few clothes he had on as he waits for the shower water to reach the perfect temperature. He gets in thinking about the past two days of school. It may only be his 3rd year teaching but he can tell his students this year are gonna be his favorite.

He thinks back to their discussion about the classes summer break reading assignment on the first day and chuckles a bit remembering what Kyle Patterson said about Romeo and Juliet, “The only reason I’d poison myself after knowing a girl for a few days is if she ghosted me.”

Harry knows he seems like a nightmare of a teacher to everyone on the outside but he enjoys the little curtain he has up. It makes it more fun when his own students to realize he’s not some pretentious boring British guy but actually a pretentious funny British guy.

Harry gets out of the shower and quickly dries himself before tying his towel around his waist. He brushes his teeth and shaves his face before going back into his bedroom and picking out a nice white button up and charcoal colored trousers with some nice black loafers. He lets his hair air dry as he packs his lunch and breakfast into a paper bag before putting it into his brown leather satchel making sure he has everything he needs for the day.

Upon arriving to the school he notices his usual parking spot is taken by a car he’s never seen before. “fucks sake.” He mumbles to himself driving around to the other aisle and parking in the first spot he sees.

Once Harry’s in his classroom he lets out a big sigh and immediately feels at home. He contemplates making a seating chart but decides against it considering they’re seniors and in an AP class, he doesn’t feel the need to control where they sit. It’s one of the things he likes about teaching seniors.

Their independence and self sufficiency. Yes, harry helps them when they don’t quite understand underlying symbolism or when they need something to be translated into “teen terms” rather than 19th century English, but more often than not they’re capable of figuring it out themselves. He’s always happy to guide them if they need and definitely loves to crack jokes throughout his lessons. His students past and present know how hilarious and lively he could be; but it’s day and night between his interactions with students and with the world around him. It’s why harry loves his job. He’s able to be his fun free spirited self then his tranquil reserved self all at the click of a button.

The bell rings and after a few seconds students funnel in taking seats. “Mr. Styles?” Harry looks up at the voice not knowing who it belongs to, after all it’s only the third day. “Yes?” He answers standing from his desk and closing the few inch gap between him and front of the classroom. “Are you married?” All the students look at him curiously. Harry is confused as to why they’d ask but simply says “No. Probably won’t ever get married f’I’m honest.” with a shrug he lets it go but it just leads to more questions being asked. Luckily for him the second bells rings and announcements start so the classroom is brought to a complete silence.

. . . . . .

Thank you for reading! Next part will be up soon so stick around. xx