#sorry if i ruined anyones childhood with this but it happened to me with rainbow dash when i was a kid so i'm paying it back

[bansq]

some ponies inspired by gen1 designs :)

specifically princess primrose (though i did lose the princess part because i couldn't get a crown or a hennin to work with the hair but got too attached to change it) and sunbeam

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 12 paragraph viii

Only here’s what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can’t be trusted—? What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one willfully and in a cloud of unspeakable radiance away from health, domesticity, civic responsibility and strong social connections and all the blandly-held common virtues and instead straight towards a beautiful flare of ruin, self-immolation, disaster? Is Kitsey right? If your deepest self is singing and coaxing you straight toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? Stop your ears with wax? Ignore all the perverse glory your heart is screaming at you? Set yourself on the course that will lead you dutifully towards the norm, reasonable hours and regular medical check-ups, stable relationships and steady career advancement, the New York Times and brunch on Sunday, all with the promise of being somehow a better person? Or—like Boris—is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name? It’s not about outward appearances but inward significance. A grandeur in the world, but not of the world, a grandeur that the world doesn’t understand. That first glimpse of pure otherness, in whose presence you bloom out and out and out. A self one does not want. A heart one cannot help. Though my engagement isn’t off, not officially anyway, I’ve been given to understand—gracefully, in the lighter-than-air manner of the Barbours—that no one is holding me to anything. Which is perfect. Nothing’s been said and nothing is said. When I’m invited for dinner (as I am, often, when I’m in town) it’s all very pleasant and light, voluble even, intimate and subtle while not at all personal; I’m treated like a family member (almost), welcome to turn up when I want; I’ve been able to coax Mrs. Barbour out of the apartment a bit, we’ve had some pleasant afternoons out, lunch at the Pierre and an auction or two; and Toddy, without being impolitic in the least, has even managed to let casually and almost accidentally drop the name of a very good doctor, with no suggestion whatever that I might possibly need such a thing.

[As for Pippa: though she took the Oz book, she left the necklace, along with a letter I opened so eagerly I literally ripped through the envelope and tore it in half. The gist—once I got on my knees and fit the pieces together— was this: she’d loved seeing me, our time in the city had meant a lot to her, who in the world could have picked such a beautiful necklace for her? it was perfect, more than perfect, only she couldn’t accept it, it was much too much, she was sorry, and—maybe she was speaking out of turn, and if so she hoped I forgave her, but I shouldn’t think she didn’t love me back, because she did, she did. (You do? I thought, bewildered.) Only it was complicated, she wasn’t thinking only of herself but me too, since we’d both been through so many of the same things, she and I, and we were an awful lot alike—too much. And because we’d both been hurt so badly, so early on, in violent and irremediable ways that most people didn’t, and couldn’t, understand, wasn’t it a bit… precarious? A matter of self-preservation? Two rickety and death-driven persons who would need to lean on each other quite so much? not to say she wasn’t doing well at the moment, because she was, but all that could change in a flash with either of us, couldn’t it? the reversal, the sharp downward slide, and wasn’t that the danger? since our flaws and weaknesses were so much the same, and one of us could bring the other down way too quick? and though this was left to float in the air a bit, I realized instantly, and with some considerable astonishment, what she was getting at. (Dumb of me not to have seen it earlier, after all the injuries, the crushed leg, the multiple surgeries; adorable drag in the voice, adorable drag in the step, the arm-hugging and the pallor, the scarves and sweaters and multiple layers of clothes, slow drowsy smile: she herself, the dreamy childhood her, was sublimity and disaster, the morphine lollipop I’d chased for all those years.)

But, as the reader of this will have ascertained (if there ever is a reader) the idea of being Dragged Down holds no terror for me. Not that I care to drag anyone else down with me, but—can’t I change? Can’t I be the strong one? Why not?] [You can have either of those girls you want, said Boris, sitting on the sofa with me in his loft in Antwerp, cracking pistachios between his rear molars as we were watching Kill Bill. No, I can’t. And why can’t you? I’d pick Snowflake myself. But if you want the other, why not? Because she has a boyfriend? So? said Boris. Who lives with her? So? And here’s what I’m thinking too: So? What if I go to London? So? And this is either a completely disastrous question or the most sensible one I’ve ever asked in all my life.] [That little guy, said Boris in the car on the way to Antwerp. You know the painter saw him—he wasn’t painting that bird from his mind, you know? That’s a real little guy, chained up on the wall, there. If I saw him mixed up with dozen other birds all the same kind, I could pick him out, no problem.] And he’s right. So could I. And if I could go back in time I’d clip the chain in a heartbeat and never care a minute that the picture was never painted. To try to make some meaning out of all this seems unbelievably quaint. Maybe I only see a pattern because I’ve been staring too long. But then again, to paraphrase Boris, maybe I see a pattern because it’s there. [Do you ever think about quitting? I asked, during the boring part of It’s a Wonderful Life, the moonlight walk with Donna Reed, when I was in Antwerp watching Boris with spoon and water from an eyedropper, mixing himself what he called a “pop.” Give me a break! My arm hurts! He’d already shown me the bloody skid mark—black at the edges—cutting deep into his bicep. You get shot at Christmas and see if you want to sit around swallowing aspirin! Yeah, but you’re crazy to do it like that. Well—believe it or not—for me not so much a problem. I only do it special occasions. I’ve heard that before. Well, is true! Still a chipper, for now. I’ve known of people chipped three-four years and been ok, long as they kept it down to two-three times a month? That said, Boris added somberly—blue movie light glinting off the teaspoon —I am alcoholic. Damage is done, there. I’m a drunk till I die. If anything kills me—nodding at the Russian Standard bottle on the coffee table—that’ll be it. Say you never shot before? Believe me, I had problems enough the other way. Well, big stigma and fear, I understand. Me—honest, I prefer to sniff most times—clubs, restaurants, out and about, quicker and easier just to duck in men’s room and do a quick bump. This way—always you crave it. On my death bed I will crave it. Better never to pick it up. Although—really very irritating to see some bone head sitting there smoking out of a crack pipe and make some pronouncement about how dirty and unsafe, they would never use a needle, you know? Like they are so much more sensible than you? Why did you start? Why does anyone? My girl left me! Girl at the time. Wanted to be all bad and self-destructive, hah. Got my wish. Jimmy Stewart in his varsity sweater. Silvery moon, quavery voices. Buffalo Gals won’t you come out tonight, come out tonight. So, why not stop then? I said. Why should I? Do I really have to say why? Yeah, but what if I don’t feel like it? If you can stop, why wouldn’t you? Live by the sword, die by the sword, said Boris briskly, hitting the button on his very professional-looking medical tourniquet with his chin as he was pushing up his sleeve.]

And as terrible as this is, I get it. We can’t choose what we want and don’t want and that’s the hard lonely truth. Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us. We can’t escape who we are. (One thing I’ll have to say for my dad: at least he tried to want the sensible thing—my mother, the briefcase, me—before he completely went berserk and ran away from it.) And as much as I’d like to believe there’s a truth beyond illusion, I’ve come to believe that there’s no truth beyond illusion. Because, between ‘reality’ on the one hand, and the point where the mind strikes reality, there’s a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic. And—I would argue as well—all love. Or, perhaps more accurately, this middle zone illustrates the fundamental discrepancy of love. Viewed close: a freckled hand against a black coat, an origami frog tipped over on its side. Step away, and the illusion snaps in again: life-more-than-life, never-dying. Pippa herself is the play between those things, both love and not-love, there and not-there. Photographs on the wall, a balled-up sock under the sofa. The moment where I reached to brush a piece of fluff from her hair and she laughed and ducked at my touch. And just as music is the space between notes, just as the stars are beautiful because of the space between them, just as the sun strikes raindrops at a certain angle and throws a prism of color across the sky—so the space where I exist, and want to keep existing, and to be quite frank I hope I die in, is exactly this middle distance: where despair struck pure otherness and created something sublime.

And that’s why I’ve chosen to write these pages as I’ve written them. For only by stepping into the middle zone, the polychrome edge between truth and untruth, is it tolerable to be here and writing this at all. Whatever teaches us to talk to ourselves is important: whatever teaches us to sing ourselves out of despair. But the painting has also taught me that we can speak to each other across time. And I feel I have something very serious and urgent to say to you, my non-existent reader, and I feel I should say it as urgently as if I were standing in the room with you. That life—whatever else it is—is short. That fate is cruel but maybe not random. That Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to bow and grovel to it. That maybe even if we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open. And in the midst of our dying, as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch. For if disaster and oblivion have followed this painting down through time—so too has love. Insofar as it is immortal (and it is) I have a small, bright, immutable part in that immortality. It exists; and it keeps on existing. And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.

[loserslibrary]

pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak [Reddie] written by: Amy rating: Teen word count: 2,864 prompt: How about a reddie fic where they’re broken up and get back together

Eddie stepped out of the subway, his eyes trained on the schedule in his hands that he had received that morning. After a lot of change and moving around, Eddie had finally made the move from Maine to New York, intending to finish his college degree in a place far away from his overbearing mother. When he had decided to change schools, there had been a fight of course with his mother claiming that he didn’t love her anymore, and that he was leaving her all alone to die. 

For his whole life, his mother had used that excuse with him, guilt tripped him into always staying with her because he felt obligated to. She was his mother, after all, so he shouldn’t want to leave her alone...right? She had taken care of him when he was sick as a child, always reminding him to take his medicine so his allergies didn’t get worse. He believed her for years, always carrying his inhaler with him for his asthma as well as a watch attached to his wrist that beeped when he was due to take a pill. It wasn’t until she started to control who he spent his time with that Eddie started to become wary.

Sometimes, Eddie would deliberately forget to take his pills, just to see if there was any difference, and once when his teacher brought in some fresh flowers, he had walked up to them to take a whiff, just to see if his allergies kicked in. Both times, nothing happened, but Eddie didn’t want to question his mother as she was his mother, and mothers were meant to take care of their children, not lie to them about being sick. 

Then, when Eddie was fourteen, he had stopped at the pharmacy to pick up his prescription and the pharmacist’s daughter, Greta, informed him that the pills were nothing but placebos. Sugar and water. After that, Eddie started to question all of the illness’ his mother claimed that he had. Did he even have allergies? Did he even need the inhaler? 

It was a long, aggravating process, but eventually Eddie managed to get it out of his mother that he wasn’t actually sick, and that she just wanted to protect him by making him think he was weak and sickly. What followed were four years of high school filled with anger, animosity and a lot of tears. Especially when he came out as gay a few weeks after his sixteenth birthday and annouced that he was dating none other than Richie Tozier. 

God, his mother hated Richie. Not just for being Eddie’s boyfriend, no, she had always hated him, ever since they were little kids and he would run around getting dirty and splashing in all the puddles. She had turned her nose up, reaching for five year old Eddie’s hand, but it was too late as he had already rushed off to join him. Since it was cold, wet and windy, Eddie had ended up in bed with a cold for a week, but it had been the best hour of fun he had ever had, and since then, he and Richie were inseparable. 

At the thought of Richie, Eddie came to a stop, stepping to the side so he didn’t get into anyone’s way, his heart clenching in his chest as his throat closed up. He had spent the past two years trying not to think about Richie, as all it did was make him cry hysterically and cry into his pillow. The thing was, Eddie’s mother had nothing to do with Eddie’s break-up with Richie, at least...not completely. 

When senior year had come around, Richie as well as the rest of the losers began to plan for colleges, applying to all the different places that would get them the hell out of Derry. Bill was even going to London for a year to study as part of a special literature honours programme. Eddie, though, was to remain in Maine, as his mother refused to pay for him to attend any other colleges, and he didn’t qualify for any scholarships. Richie, on the other hand, had been accepted into a college in New York City that would specialise in drama and entertainment. 

They had spent the entire summer together, practically attached at the hip and even his mother couldn’t say anything about it. She was getting rid of Richie after all, so she had no right to say anything about how they spent the rest of their time together. When the last week rolled around, Eddie sat in Richie’s now bare empty room and they had cried together, making the adult decision that it would be too messy to do long distance, and they wouldn’t want to risk ruining their friendship.

That had been that, the next week Richie was gone and Eddie was the only one of the Losers Club left in Derry. The days that he had classes, Eddie treasured as it was time out of the house and away from his mother. Yet, even when she knew he was at class, she would call non stop. Once, when he was in the middle of an exam and had told her so, the police had to interrupt them as she had called the police to say he was missing. He had never been so embarrassed over something in his entire life. 

It was after that specific ordeal, that Eddie made the decision that it was time to leave, and from under her nose he had applied for a transfer to a college in New York that offered his course in medicine and would accept him the following year in their classes. He was accepted almost immediately, and what followed was a quick search for a dorm room as well as packing up without his mother catching on. He had made it up to the week he was meant to leave when she figured it out, causing the biggest argument to date, but there was nothing she could do. He had been given access to the college fund his father had kept for him as well as some extra. Without looking back, Eddie left his mother alone in his childhood home and was on the next train to New York City.

Now here Eddie was, making his way onto the campus to meet with his professors and have a short induction into the course. He had been in touch with them via email, and completed all the same summer work the other students in his class had been given, but they wanted to meet him in person just before the new year began. He had been so focused on not getting lost, that Eddie wasn’t even paying attention to where he was going, and therefore didn’t see the person in front of them until he collided right into them. 

“Shit!” Eddie gasped, dropping the bag he was carrying as the stranger he had bumped into reached out and held onto him. “I am so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He looked up to face the person who he had almost knocked to the ground, when his heart leapt out of his chest and slammed against the concrete. There was no mistaking the man in front of him for anyone else, yet Eddie wondered what twist of fate this was, for out of everyone that Eddie could have bumped into, it ended up being Richie Tozier. 

Richie hadn’t met Eddie’s eyes yet, and time seemed to turn into slow motion as he raised his head, words forming on his lips, “No no it’s okay-” their eyes met and Richie’s jaw dropped a little. “Eds?” His eyes widened to the size of saucers, pupils dancing around as he scanned Eddie’s face. “Oh my god, Eddie!”

Before Eddie could even blink, he was being pulled into a hug, his face trapped in Richie’s jacket. He inhaled, senses being filled with the familiar scent of his ex-boyfriend, and the tears filled his eyes within seconds. He wrapped his arms around Richie’s waist, holding onto him so tight that he didn’t want to let go. He was too scared that if he did, Richie would just vanish and Eddie would wake up back in Derry, still under the control of his mother. 

Yet, that didn’t happen, and Richie pulled away after a few moments, his own eyes filled with tears. He lifted a hand, which Eddie noticed the nails were painted the colours of the rainbow, and wiped them away, unable to stop smiling. Eddie felt as though his face was just the same, his mouth hurting from the smiling. It had been such a long time since he’d seen Richie in person. Of course, they had kept in touch the first few months, but then their schedules got busy and it turned to a few text conversations every few weeks. It was surreal. “I- oh my god...it’s really you…”

“It’s really me!” Richie nodded his head, his hands lingering on Eddie’s arm where it had held on to steady him. “What- what are you doing here? I thought you went to college in Maine?” he asked, biting his lip. Eddie took that chance to scan over Richie’s features. He was a little taller than the last time they’d seen each other, and his hair had grown out, which was now messily tied back into a bun at the top of his head, waves and curls sprouting out at all angles.

Eddie bit down on his own lip, trying to steady the rapid beating of his heart. “I- I transferred. I finally got fed up with my mom and her bullshit and I just left…” he shrugged a little, looking from side to side. “I got accepted to transfer into a course here, and they were happy to have me so I accepted and moved. Stressful but I hope it’ll be worth it.”

Richie’s eyes were shining at this point and he bounced on the balls of his feet, “So...you’re here? Like permanently?” he asked and Eddie nodded his head. “That- fuck...that’s amazing. Uh, shit.” Richie was right back to grinning now. “Uh, are you...are you seeing anyone?”

Eddie’s mouth went a little dry at that and he slowly shook his head, fluttering his eyelashes. “No- No I’m not seeing anyone. I haven’t since- since-”

“Me neither,” Richie confirmed, moving the hand that was settled on his arm moved down to take Eddie’s hand in his, squeezing tightly. Sparks shot up Eddie’s arm and a flush took over his face. It was almost like they were never apart, falling back into their old, almost perfect relationship. Richie hadn’t been with anyone else and neither had Eddie. It was almost like they were just...  waiting for the other. “Do you have plans for tonight?” Richie asked, eyes glinting with hope. 

Slowly, with a smile, Eddie shook his head. “No, none at all. Why?” he asked, even though he knew where Richie was going with his question. “You want to change that?”

“Definitely,” Richie nodded. “I have to go to an appointment right now, but I’ll text you right after and we can meet up when you're done? Spend the rest of the night together? How does that sound?” he asked and Eddie couldn’t nod his head fast enough.

“Yes, yes that...that sounds perfect.” Eddie agreed, glancing at the large clock tower that displayed the time. “I- I need to go, I don’t want to be late…” He really didn’t, but he also didn’t want to let go of Richie. 

Richie smiled, warm and soft, before lifting Eddie’s hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. “Until later then?” He breathed before letting go, taking a step back. 

Eddie nodded, “Yeah...until later.” 

* * * * *

That night, Eddie spent way too long getting ready for his date with Richie, at least he hoped it was a date. Seeing Richie again after so long had just reignited all those feelings he had buried deep down in his chest. He was grinning like a teenager as he put the final touches to his hair. 

When he was ready, he messaged Richie to let him know he was ready and within seconds, Richie was sending him an address to meet him. Eddie wasted no time rushing from his dorm and onto the bus that would take him to the restaurant where Richie asked him to meet. True to his word, Richie was standing outside, flicking on his phone and looking just as handsome as always.

“Hey…” Eddie breathed, walking up to Richie, stopping just a few metres away from him. Richie looked up, his eyes brightening as they landed on Eddie. His stomach flipped. “Hope you haven’t been waiting long?”

Richie pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arm around Eddie’s waist and pulling them closer together so their chests were touching. “Eds, I’d wait forever for you,” he whispered. He brought a hand up and pushed some of his hair behind his ear. “God, it is possible for you to be even more beautiful now than you were this morning?”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed and he leaned a little closer, “Are you always this much of a flirt?” He whispered back and Richie broke into a large grin.

“Only when it comes to you, Eddie baby,” Richie shot back before taking a step back. “Shall we? I got us a table last minute, the food here is amazing, a perfect place to try for your first night in New York.” He winked, leading Eddie into the restaurant. His eyes widened as they were led over to the table set up for them, handing them a menu. “Get anything you want okay? It’s on me.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked, sitting opposite Richie and immediately, their ankles hooked together under the table. It was like they had never been apart, immediately falling into their old routine and Eddie just hoped that the evening would end with another date. He wanted nothing more than to rekindle his relationship with Richie. He was still very much in love with him. 

Richie nodded his head, “I mean it, Eds. Anything you want.” He winked. “Yet, may I recommend you get the carbonara though? It is the shit.”

The waiter came by and took their order, with Eddie following Richie’s advice and ordering the carbonara. Just like Richie had said, it really was the shit and Eddie found himself dragging it out so he could savour the meal more. “Holy shit, this is the best carbonara I have ever had in my life. I don’t want it to end.”

“What did I tell you, sweetheart? You deserve to have your first dinner in New York be one to remember,” he lifted his glass and clinked it against Eddie’s glass. “I don’t want this night to end yet...take a walk with me?” 

There was no way that Eddie was going to turn Richie down. He nodded his head and Richie paid the bill, taking Eddie’s hand as they left the restaurant and walked across the street to the park. They walked in silence for a while, fingers brushing until Eddie couldn’t take it anymore and laced their fingers together. “I can’t believe out of all the people I bump into today, it was the one person I really wanted to bump into.”

Just then, Richie stopped and Eddie stumbled a little, falling back into line with Richie. Eddie looked up at him with a little confusion. Once again, just like he did at the beginning of the night, Richie wrapped his arm around Eddie’s waist to pull him closer, “Eds...fuck I missed you so much. I’ve never stopped thinking about you and...and now you’re here I don’t think I can let you go.”

“Then don’t,” Eddie breathed, his whole body feeling as though it was on fire. He barely managed to suck in a breath before Richie was burying his free hand into Eddie’s hair and pulling him into a kiss that made his toes curl up in his shoes. He kissed Richie back as though he was a starved man. When they pulled away, Richie was grinning and Eddie was grinning. “W-wow.”

Richie pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead and squeezed Eddie’s hands. “I know that this is...soon and all but my feelings for you never went away and they never will. Feel free to say no but...would you be interested in being my boyfriend again?”

“Richie...my feelings for you never went away either, and they never will. This- this was fate, us meeting again.” Eddie let out a breath. “I definitely want to be your boyfriend, there was never another answer in my mind. Yes, yes yes!”

With a grin, Richie picked Eddie up, spinning him around and sealing the deal with a kiss. “God, I missed you so much,” he breathed as he sat Eddie back onto the ground. “Want to catch a movie?”

Eddie laughed and nodded his head, “I would love to.”

[artificialqueens]

Favorite Place, Chapter 2 (Crygi) - Lily Bee

AO3 LINK

Summary: Crystal works at a French literature book store, and can’t help but fall for the pretty girl that comes in -also known as a cheesy bookstore au :)

A/N: hey guys its lily! thank you so much for the love on the first chapter :) thank you so much jazz for editing as per usual! trigger warning for panic attacks / mention of abusive relationships for this chapter! its just a bunch of angst i’m sorry… not really though :)

“Hey Crystal,” Nicky called across the bookstore. Crystal looked up from her book to see her boss staring at her.

“Yes?” Crystal yelled back, hoping she wasn’t in trouble for seeming to only ever be reading at work.

“Do you mind staying an extra hour tonight and closing up the store for me?” she asked. Crystal really didn’t want to, but extra money was always good, and she knew Nicky would be thankful. Plus, she would get an extra hour of reading in.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I can stay,” Crystal responded.

-

Around 9pm Nicky headed out for the night, thanking Crystal again for closing up.

Crystal had not done much besides read, and it seemed there were no customers left in the shop, so she got on with cleaning. She put away the books that people had moved around throughout the day and left discarded in the wrong spot. Nicky had a particular way of organizing so Crystal had to make sure everything was in the right place.

As she was finishing up, multiple rushed knocks came from the front of the store. Crystal began to panic; who in the hell would be trying to get into a bookstore past 9pm? She had never dealt with an intruder before. Did she call the police? Did she hide?

Over the sound of the knocks she heard a panicked female voice yell, “Hello, is there anyone in there?” The voice sounded distressed and familiar to Crystal. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew she had to help. She rushed up to the door, and saw a worrisome Gigi peering through the glass. She stepped back as Crystal unlocked the door, opening it softly.

Gigi rushed in, tears rushing down her face. She paced around the room, fingers grabbing her own hair and pulling on it, small strands coming out. Her breaths were staggered and she coughed as she continued to cry. Crystal could see her hands were shaking.

Gigi mumbled, “I had to get away. I couldn’t stay near that damned house any longer. I couldn’t look at it. There was too much of a risk of someone walking out of it and trying to talk me out of my decision. I was stranded. Drive, and I could cause an accident. Not drive, and I was still too close to what had happened.” Her words were rushed and staggered, not making much sense.

She didn’t even register Crystal as she continued. “I clutched the steering wheel, my hands wrapped so tightly around it that my nails dug into my palms.” She glanced down at her hands, which still had marks from where she had gripped them.  Breathing was hard. Really hard. She cried harder, her chest growing tight as bile rose in her throat. She felt the blood pounding in her ears.

“What are you talking about? What happened?” Crystal didn’t know what to do. The girl was clearly having a panic attack. Crystal didn’t want to get too close, didn’t know how she would react.

“I ruined everything! I fucking always ruin everything!” She collapsed to the ground in defeat. “Of course this fucking happened to me! I shouldn’t be surprised ‘cause god, I deserve it!” she shrieked as she clenched her fists, forcing her eyes shut.

“Gigi,” Crystal spoke as she got on the ground facing the girl, “Gigi! You need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Gigi snapped. “You don’t get it!” Too tired to fight more, she collapsed into Crystal’s lap, tears still falling from her eyes.

“He fucking cheated on me,” she mumbled amongst the cries.

“Oh my god,” Crystal uttered. “Hey, this is not your fault. This is his fault, not yours.” She tried to assure Gigi, but she just shook her head.

“I went to his apartment to give him the fucking book to apologize for ever thinking he would cheat on me, but when I walked in, he was with another fucking woman. God, she even looked like me. He didn’t even see me, his tongue was so far down her throat to notice.”

Crystal just rubbed her head, brushing her fingers through the blonde locks, detangling it carefully. “He’s a bastard to ever do something like this. None of this is your fault. You were being a supportive girlfriend, and you don’t deserve this,” Crystal assured her.

“I just can’t believe he would do this,” Gigi weaped. She layed in Crystal’s lap for a while in silence, the only noise being an occasional sniffle from Gigi as she tried to settle her breathing. It felt like they had been sitting there for hours when Gigi finally pushed herself up.

“I need to speak to him. I didn’t even break up with him, I just left.” Crystal could sense the wheels turning in Gigi’s head as she continued to speak. “Oh my god, all my stuff is there. I was living there, I can’t go back, not tonight.” The panic in her voice started to come back.

“Hey, don’t worry, you don’t have to go back,” Crystal said. “If you want, you can crash at my apartment tonight.” It’s not like Gigi seemed to have any other option.

“Really? I don’t want to impose, but that would be great.” Her words were sincere. She looked like she was minutes away from passing out so Crystal quickly finished closing down the shop. She locked the register and switched off the lights as she led Gigi out the door.

-

When the pair got to Crystal’s house, they were greeted by her bookshelves, beloved and beautiful. Crystal looked around the living room. The shelf in the corner by television she didn’t really want (but let her old roommates get so they could play video games while she read) held her hardcover nonfiction. The shelf next to it featured antique hymnals and schoolbooks nearly a hundred years old, from her grandfather’s childhood.

Against the wall, the bookshelf with the plants on it had her childhood favorites. Fantasy, young adult fiction, children’s books, Shakespeare—she couldn’t tell you exactly where and when she got each and every one of those books, because getting a book was a privilege and she considered herself a collector. The other shelf was full of textbooks and reference material more recently acquired.

There were books on her shelves that she hadn’t even opened yet—ones she’s waiting to review, others she just wanted to own. It was easy to buy more books than one person was ever capable of reading, and Crystal had every book imaginable and more.

Gigi took one look around the room before mumbling, “Wow, you’re a nerd.”

Crystal elbowed her sharply in her side. “Hey, I’m the one giving you a place to stay.”

Gigi just giggled, having calmed down on the way home. “I’m only kidding. Your home seems lovely.”

“I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” Crystal said, gesturing towards it, “though it is a pull-out.” She started to remove all the cushions, discarding them on the floor.

“Here, let me help,” Gigi offered. They pulled the bed frame up until it was brought toward them as the frame started to unfold. They dragged the frame gently down to the floor and unfolded the last third of the mattress.

“Voilà,” Crystal beamed, gesturing towards the bed.

“Thank you again,” Gigi said. “I feel bad asking, but can I borrow something to sleep in?”

Oh shoot, Crystal hadn’t even thought to offer. Looking at Gigi, she was still wearing the dress and heels from when she met her this morning. “Yeah of course, let me grab you something.” She scurried off towards her room, digging through her draws for a shirt. She found one of her old band t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants and walked back out to Gigi. She tossed her the clothes and pointed towards the bathroom.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, walking out of the room. Crystal wasn’t exactly sure what to do, didn’t know whether she should leave Gigi alone quite yet. She walked over to her shelf above the television and grabbed a book she had wanted to read for a while now. She took a seat on the bed, resting her head on the headboard, and started reading.

She managed to get a few pages into the book, not even realizing that Gigi had walked back into the room and was sitting next to her. Gigi stared at Crystal, observing her features. She had curly dark auburn hair cut into a mullet with little pieces of hair that fell into her face; it was a strange look for a girl, but somehow she pulled it off. Her face was gorgeous: She wore a lot of makeup, with bold eyeliner and overdrawn red lips. She sat still in her work uniform, not even seeming to care about anything besides her book.

“Like the view?” Crystal asked laughing at herself after. Gigi was taken aback. Had she known that Gigi was staring the whole time?

Instead of responding she just layed down on the bed trying to make herself comfortable.

“Here, let me get you a blanket,” Crystal offered. She placed her book to the side and headed back to her bedroom. Gigi was too tired to respond, instead resting her head on her arm as a pillow.

Crystal returned with a huge rainbow blanket and draped it across Gigi. The girl clutched to it immediately, wrapping herself in the soft fabric. “Thank you,” Gigi breathed.

Crystal just smiled and headed to her room for the night.

[evengayerpanic]

Beyond the Hollows [Week 2]

Read Another Part: [One]    [Two]    [Three]    [Four]

_________________

By the time Sae opens her eyes again, the sun has finally gone down and the hotel room she lays in is dark aside from the faint glow of a light on behind the closed bathroom door. The room is silent.

For a second, it all feels like a dream- no, it feels like it’s all been a nightmare. Zombies... Lukas... Kate.

The best part of a nightmare is that you can wake up from them. Maybe a little anxious, a little on edge, a little worse for wear for a moment... But when the sleep shrugs off and your mind clears, the nightmare is over. It’s over and done with and you can move on.

Sae waits for the nightmare to fade, but it doesn’t.

A brief glance around the room confirms to the twenty-two year old that she didn’t hallucinate the horrors she saw what felt like only moments ago.

Kate isn’t there, all that remains is the blood stained over the cocktail dress Sae was supposed to wear out to Copa Cabana. Lukas is missing too, the face of fear and concern he had as he tackled Kate away from Sae flashes painfully in the young woman’s mind.

She stifles a sob, only stopping herself upon seeing the young girl curled up in the bed across from hers.

The child sleeps. The man that rescued Sae, her Father, curls up around the girl protectively. Their brows are furrowed in identical worry, but the evenness of their breath denotes just the slightest moment of peace between the two.

Sae isn’t willing to ruin that for them, even in her grief.

Her grief is quiet, the agony swallows her up and for a moment Sae wonders if her sister is still in the hall, if she can go find her... They promised their whole childhood to never leave each other, maybe Sae can-

“You’re awake.” A voice breaks through her planning.

“What time is it...” Sae whispers, not turning to face him, not able to turn and look Curtis in the eye.

She knows its him, if it wasn’t obvious from the fact that there is only four people in the room, she can tell his voice from anywhere. She’s grown up hearing that voice; her sister’s boyfriend for almost six years and fiancee for two... He’s been like a brother to her, or he was her brother, at least, until a few hours ago.

“Four, I think, I turned off my cell to save battery.”

“It’s quiet.”

“You missed all of the screaming.” His voice is flat and emotionless. “You could hear the entire resort go to hell until about one, then it all went silent.”

Sae doesn’t speak, the air between the two is tense and thick. A shiver runs down her spine as she realizes the reason for the silence. “Everyone’s dead.”

“Not everyone, not us.”

“Not yet.” She spits out the words like poison.

Her name comes out like a trickling of wind. “Sarah...” Curtis breathes, his head dropping to his hands. “I’m so sorry, okay, I never should have said what I said.”

“You never should have left him out there, Curtis-”

“Sarah...”

“No, I know that Kate is dead or something, but Lukas? Lukas wasn’t. You left him out there to die.”

There is silence again, before a small sniffle is heard and Sae turns to face Curtis finally... His face is red, and his eyes are puffy, and she knows he’s crying but she just can’t feel sorry for him. Not after what he did.

“I had to keep you safe.” Curtis finally whispers.

Mouth dropping open just slightly, eyes squeezing tight to stop the tears that threaten to fall, a single word escapes Sae’s mouth. “Why?”

“You’re like my little sister... No, you pretty much are my little sister. I couldn’t save Katie, but at least I could save you, so that was more important.”

“He was your friend, you should have saved us both.”

The sound of a snore quiets the two again. A minute goes by. Two. It’s almost five minutes before Curtis starts to speak again, his voice strained with emotion.

“Look, when you decide you are going to propose to someone, a lot of thoughts go through your head...” He starts with a wistful sigh. “If you’re good enough, if you can provide for them, if this is really the person you want to love for the rest of your life.”

Sae turns to stare at Curtis.

“You don’t really expect that the rest of your life, is going to suddenly just end in the blink of an eye.”

His words hit Sae in the chest. “I’m sorry.” She admits, hanging her head. “I’m not the only one that lost her.”

“I’m sorry too, I know you really liked Lukas, but in that moment, the only thing I could think is how Kate would want me to save you, no matter what.”

An admission escapes her. “I actually didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t like him... not like that. I mean he was nice and all, but I don’t...” She struggles to find the words.

“I like girls.” Her heart thuds in her chest painfully with the realization that this is the closest she’ll ever get to telling her family the truth. Her sister’s gone, before she could know what Sae wanted so badly to tell her.

“Oh.” Curtis goes quiet.

“Did you know, that I thought the worst thing that could happen this weekend... was that I’d tell Kate and she’d be angry with me.”  A bitter laugh escapes Sae. 

“I never imagined that all of this would happen.”

Curtis nods in recognition. “None of us did.”

He’s quiet again for another few moments, Sae can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he processes the information she’s just dumped on him.

“She wouldn’t, you know.” He settles on.

All Sae can do is make a soft ‘hm’ in response.

“Be angry? She loved you. She just wanted you to fall in love and be happy, whoever that was with.”

“I know, Curtis.”

“I’m not angry either.” Curtis looks her in the eye when he says this. “When we get out of here, I want you to know that I’ll support you, no matter what.”

In the first show of solidarity since everything fell apart, Sae reaches over to take Curtis’ hand, squeezing it to show her appreciation. “I know.”

“Now let’s figure out a plan to get out of here.”

_________________

The older man wakes not long after Sae, he’s careful to not disturb his daughter as he slips out of the bed and over to the two young adults near the door.

Together, the three of them brainstorm how to get out of the resort. Curtis is convinced that as long as they can get to their cars, they can go find help.

Sae isn’t too sure of that, but it’s the man, Martin Hess, as they find out (here on a special week-long vacation with his eight year old daughter Caroline), who happens to be the deciding vote between them.

“If we stay we’re sitting ducks.” He explains, offering a water bottle to Sae, and a chocolate protein bar to Curtis. “This place is locked up tightly, which fortunately means nothing from the outside is getting in... But, unfortunately, it also means that those monsters aren’t able to get out on their own, either.”

“So?” Sae asks, grimacing at the thought that her sister is lumped in as part of the ‘monsters’ roaming.

“He means that they’re all still out in the halls, and the lobby, and they aren’t just going to go away.” Curtis interrupts, glancing at the door. “We can either run for the cars, or we stay in this room until they find us.”

“Couldn’t help find us too? Police or something, they’re probably out looking for survivors.”

Martin shakes his head. “In a city this big... I don’t think anyone will be going room to room in each resort searching for uninfected folks for quite a while.”

“We could wait right? It’s safer in here isn’t it?”

“No.” Martin voices, adamant against that idea. “We’d run out of food. I packed a few snacks for the trip; cheese strings, water bottles, bear paws... Snacks so Cari wouldn’t ask me to stop every five minutes for a Beavertail or Dipping Dots, but it won’t be enough to feed all of us properly for more than a day or so.”

Curtis nods his agreement. “Look, Sarah, if we go, we go now... We need to get to the cars and get to the police, or a fire station. One of them will keep us safe.”

“It’s our safest bet, I agree.” 

Sae looks between Martin and Curtis, for a moment she can see how scared they both are, how utterly terrified they are of leaving the room and she also feels that same fear. They seem to know what they’re talking about, but the idea of leaving the safety of the room and willingly going out into the hall, it’s crazy.

Her heart pounds in her chest, but slowly she lets herself nod. “Okay, whose car are we going for?”

“Mine.” Martin insists. “It’s an SUV, it can take a hell of a beating and Cari’s carseat is in the back.”

“Okay.” Curtis nods. “Sarah, I want you to take your keys just in case we get separated or anything.”

Sae nods, the tiny breath of air she was holding expelling from her body as she glances from Curtis’ determined face, to Martin’s concerned one and finally to the girl still curled up on the bed sleeping.

“When do we do it?”

_________________ 

It isn’t quite seven in the morning when the four survivors decide that they’re all ready to go.

They’ve woken up Caroline, and made the official introductions between the eight year old and her two new friends. They have also gotten her to pack the rainbow unicorn backpack she brought on vacation with all of the snacks that they can fit in it.

The two men have broken apart the desk chair that sits in the hotel room, using the metal legs for bats, more reliable bats than the wooden chair leg that Curtis found and used the night before.

Sae, from some stroke of luck, has managed to change out of the cocktail dress stained with her sister’s blood and into a pair of jeans and plain tee-shirt that Martin had in his suitcase. The jeans are too wide and need to be held on with a tight belt, and the shirt swims on her, but anything is better than running around in a skin-tight dress with the memory of her sister being bitten seeped into the material.

The plan is simple; Curtis and Sae are going in front, with Martin and his daughter following close behind.

Curtis has Martin’s keys because he’s the fastest runner out of the four of them, his role is to get to the SUV as quickly as he can... If he can start it up, they may be able to make it before they get overrun.

Sae and Martin’s roles are to beat away any of the monsters that get too close using the metal chair legs, their only weapons against arms, legs and teeth.

Cari? Cari’s only job is to be brave.

It all seems so easy, until the door to the room opens and they’re met with the carnage in the hallway.

It’s like the scene of a horror movie; blood stains the floor in pools, people (or what remains of them) are crumpled into heaps, and the only sound you can hear comes from the piles of bodies littered along the hallway; moans, groans and the unmistakable noise of something gnawing through bone.

Sae has to cover her mouth to conceal the gasp that threatens to escape, Martin shields his daughter’s eyes before the whimper on her lips can make it’s debut, and Curtis motions the group to move on.

They’re able to walk down the hall a little, moving away from the lobby where it all began and instead following a little hall to a fire exit, it had been decided that going the path more secluded had less of a chance of running into the monsters they were trying to stay away from. It almost works... almost.

Curtis has his hand on the handle to the door, ready to open it, when a scream erupts into the near quiet air stopping him and Sae dead in their tracks.

As they turn their heads towards the scream, the sight meeting them has Sae’s heart still in her chest.

Cari has been knocked to the ground, her eyes trained in horror on the beast that advances on her father.

Sae lets out the gasp she held earlier.

The creature is easily six feet tall and over two hundred pounds, as a human he would have been intimidating with the muscles swelling around his arms, chest and legs... As a mindless and relentless zombie attacking them, he is absolutely terrifying.

In mere seconds he goes from advancing on Martin, to tackling him to the ground. All at once, the man, Sae and Cari scream.

“Curtis we have to do something now!” Sae begs, taking a hesitant step forward and brandishing the chair leg like it’s a bat, she’s set to take a hit on the zombie before she’s stopped by Curtis grabbing a hold of her arm and pulling her back.

“We can’t.” He quirks his head to the hall they’ve just come from, another creature stumbling it’s way over to them, foot dragging like it’s been broken.

“We need to go now, Sae, we can’t help him.”

Sae turns to stare at her almost brother-in-law in horror, Caroline’s screams pierce the background at the same time as Martin’s pleas for help start.

“Curtis, we need to.” She’s determined as she tries to break out of his hold, her eyes narrowing as he holds her almost painfully tightly.

“We have the keys, we can still get to their car and get out of here.” His eyes are wide in his frantic demands. “Come, there’s no way we can help him.”

Sae stares at him for another moment, her eyes filling with tears as she shakes her head. “No, I can’t, she’s just a little kid, we have to help them.”

For a moment, his eyes soften and Sae feels like she’s broken through to him... But then Curtis is holding her arm tighter and trying to drag her towards the fire door, his face red in an unrecognizable fury.

“It’s us or them, Sarah, and I sure as fuck choose us. Come on!” He growls in her ear as he struggles to pull her towards the door. “If the roles were reversed, they’d leave us behind in a heartbeat!”

Her eyes flicker between Curtis, anger and determination written across the features that once held nothing but humour and adoration... And then they flicker to Martin and Cari, the tiny girl screaming desperately as her father tries to fight back against the monster that has him pinned to the floor.

“No!” Sae finally screams, her mind returns to the night before, Martin putting not just himself but his daughter in danger to try to get Sae and her friends into his room, into safety. “No, they wouldn’t!”

She rips away from Curtis’ hold, and stands facing him, panting in desperation. “I’ve got to help them!” She demands, refusing to give in to him.

“Then I’ve got to leave you behind.”

Her heart breaks in ways Sae never imagined as her sister’s fiancee turns away from her and pulls open the door to the fire exit, rushing down the stairs and out of sight. For a second she’s frozen watching the spot where he used to be, until another desperate scream from Cari snaps her back to reality.

She turns back towards the chaos, swinging at the zombie with the metal chair leg and hitting him in the shoulder just as he ducks his head and sinks his teeth deep into the flesh of Martin’s throat.

“Noooooo!” A scream breaks out and it takes Sae a moment to realize that she’s the one screaming, as Cari joins her crying out in anguish.

She pounds the chair leg into the zombie’s shoulder again, trying to beat him off of Martin but the damage has already been done, blood spurting from the open wound in the older man’s throat.

Sae is screaming and crying and pounding on the six foot monster’s shoulder as Martin twitches and spasms on the floor, the only sound escaping him is a gurgled plea to “Take... Ca-ri... Run...”

It takes Sae a moment to react, dropping the metal chair leg as the beast she was attacking turns to face her, his mouth a crimson red and his eyes the same milky white as her sisters were only the night before.

The seconds that follow, all Sae can hear is the blood rushing through her veins as she jumps into action.

She runs for Caroline, scooping the child up with one arm and not stopping as she flees from the nightmare unfolding in front of them. She’s holding the girl against her side, just barely able to keep them both upright as she races down the hall in the opposite direction from the fire exit, the path to safety being blocked by six feet of pure horror and Cari’s own father who she’s sure is either dead or turning into one of them.

Sae races past other creatures, zombies she supposes, some of them are too preoccupied with their own catch to worry about a sprinting twenty-two year old and the eight year old arm luggage she’s picked up.

A few turn towards them and Sarah tries her best to run around, or shove them away as she races desperately towards the fire exit on the opposite side of the building, the one that���s just past her own room.

There’s a thought that occurs to her just moments before she can see the doors to the fire exit.

What if Kate is still around.

The thought is just barely in the back of her mind, her instincts to flight taking over until it’s almost too late.

She catches sight of Kate, skulking around what Sae can only assume is the body of Lukas... From the barely visible blonde hair and bright blue v-neck he had been wearing the night before, it confirms exactly who it is.

Sae freezes, Cari still pressed against her body, as she stares at the shambling, grotesque mess that her dearly loved older sister has horrifically become.

A hole where her shoulder once was now shows skin flaps barely clinging on to the meat underneath, blood drenches the front of Kate, from her mouth and shoulder all the way down her dress. Red bits adorn her neck and jaw, and it’s with a shudder that Sae realizes that the red bits are pieces of Lukas’ flesh.

Kate lets out a groan that runs down Sae’s spine, and the blonde stumbles backward into the fire exit. She’s shaking her head, tears collecting in her eyes when she steps in a puddle at the top of the staircase.

She loses her balance, arms flinging out to try and correct herself, but all Sae manages to do is slam the door to the fire exit closed in front of her, before her ankle twists and she sends both her and eight year old Cari crashing down the staircase behind them.

[willel]

I’ve been doing some thinking lately. Here’s some rambling below the cut

I’ve been thinking about El’s trauma vs Will’s. And no, not like some kind of competition, but how they’re dealing with it. 

El should be extremely traumatized thanks to her upbringing. In season 1 and season 2, I think they did a very good job showing this. She still had trust issues. She was fighting with herself whether to go out on her own or stay safe and hidden away from anyone that could find or hurt her. 

In season 3... I just don’t know. I mean, obviously the signs of her upbringing are still there in her speech patterns and her often defaulting to nonverbal communication. She’s still deathly afraid and guilty of stuff involving the Upside Down too. I still feel like they glossed over her anxiety with being public and out in the open too quickly.

For Will, he had a ‘normal’ childhood in comparison. Things didn’t really start going down the drain for him until he was taken to the Upside Down. To be honest, I don’t think he’s ever truly recovered from that and you know what? The show makes sure to show that. He wasn’t better in season 2, he was arguably a little worse. In season 3 he was still stuck in the past and couldn’t move forward until he had a frustrated outburst and essentially destroyed or gave away the things that made him happy. 

Why was the narrative so quick to push El past her trauma? That’s my biggest hangup. Is there a purpose to El getting better and better and Will getting worse and worse? 

I often roll my eyes at people who are like “Will stans trying to steal El’s backstory!!!” but that’s not what it is. Will and El have two different kinds of trauma that took place over varying lengths of time. That’s a duh. 

One of them is slowly recovering from their trauma and the other isn’t, this is the real question for me. I want to know if it’s on purpose, or if it’s just bad writing. 

This leads me to another question. And I please ask that whatever side you’re on, leave your shipping goggles at the door.

This whole situation has me wondering about WHY Will had his outburst, truly. 

We have El, traumatized for 12 years, coming out of her shell and starting on her journey to be a normal teenage girl. Most of her trauma is nowhere to be seen and her life is pretty great. The narrative did not hold her back at all and pushed her right past the trauma from the last two season.

So that leads me to question if trauma is actually what’s holding Will back.

We keep on saying, “His childhood his childhood”, but his childhood was ruined nearing the end. El had no childhood at all, you know?? Why write Will’s trauma but leave out El’s, you know?

Was it just an oversight?

So my mind started thinking, what other logical reason is there other than the trauma of missed time or being left behind?

Maybe it’s not trauma, but fear. Fear of growing up unrelated to what he went through He’s scared of growing up because clearly growing up to him means getting into a relationship and/or leaving his hobbies behind. 

We’ve been shown at least twice in this show despite Will’s reputation, he probably would have no issues getting a girlfriend if he cared or wanted to. 

My conclusion? I really think whether the writers intended it or not, this further feeds into the idea that Will is LGBT. If we remove Will’s trauma from the equation just like they did for El’s trauma this season, all that’s left is a fear of growing up, changing, and from his perspective, having to get into a relationship.

But he clearly doesn’t want a relationship. And at the very least, it’s pretty heavily implied he doesn’t like girls at least (that takes quite a few colors off the rainbow flag)

This also had me thinking about Robin. Maya pitched repeatedly for her story to be changed so she’d be a lesbian. That’s kinda sad that she had to convince them to do that, but also I’m not sure if that bodes well for Will. Or if it actually helps? 

Will was originally written as a kid struggling with sexual identity issues. Easy season they drop a breadcrumb here or there alluding to the possibility. But if they need the actor to push for this story line to take place, is then is that really going to happen? Know what I mean? 

Mmmmmmmm

Sorry if none of this made sense. I needed to get some thoughts off the mind. 

[nxtsoprincess]

Flashback Solo Para: What’s in Your Head?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: PHYSICAL ABUSE, SELF-HARM, GORE, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, MENTAL ABUSE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, JUST... FUCK, MAN

The five-year-old skips along through the streets of town, going to her and her mommy’s favorite bakery in Corona to get a snack. Mommy and daddy were busy with royal things anyways and when the babysitter put Ruby down for a nap Hannah had stubbornly snuck out to get something to eat.

She jumps through a hopscotch game some girls had set up and waves with a happy smile as she carries on her path... when she rounds the corner and bumps into the man.

His face is obscured by his hood but she’s not worried. Sometimes people just liked being mysterious. “I’m sorry!”

“That’s all right, no harm done. You’re the little princess, aren’t you? What are you doing out here on your own?”

“I’m big.” Hannah Cassandra Fitzherbert crosses her arms and holds her head up.

He chuckles. “Of course you are. Do you think you can help me? I bet you know all the ways out of town. I just came over the bridge and I was looking for another way back besides the main bridge.”

“Uh-huh! This way!” Without a second thought, Hannah leads him off to a place she knows with a much smaller and older bridge back off Corona’s little island.

As they reach it, Hannah smiles. “All right. Here you are, mister! It was nice meeting you!”

But before she can run back home, he grabs her wrist tightly, and she looks at him, confused... growing scared when she can’t pull away. “Uh, excuse me, I need to go--”

He smirks, and her heart falls. He pulls her in and covers her mouth before she can scream, in one swift motion his cloak is off and she’s bundled in it... gone in a blink.

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

“Please. Please, I’m telling you, I don’t have magic,” whimpers the seven-year-old, looking down and crying.

He smacks her, hard, but doesn’t say anything. Because he’s said it so often the past two years. He doesn’t believe her. Hannah sniffles, looking down and crying harder, only for him to yank her head upwards to look at him as he sneers. “It’s going to get easier for you, blondie, if you’ll just heal yourself and show me how it works.”

And with that he slashes his knife down her arm, scraping a patch of her skin right off, and she yelps in pain and cries.

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

She’s missing teeth. Not baby teeth. She’s bruising and she thinks he broke her leg... not to mention, the ten-year-old adds dryly to herself, that he’d stabbed her and left her for dead.

Hannah wasn’t going to make it through this. She wasn’t going to see mommy, daddy, or Ruby ever again. She wasn’t going to grow up and run away. No.

No, ten-year-old Hannah Cassandra Fitzherbert, princess of Corona, was going to die, alone, and never be found, in the place she’d watched her life get torn apart from the inside out.

Her breathing rattles. But then to her surprise... the door bursts open, and daylight pours in. Except, it’s not him.

It’s Carter, her best friend when she was a child... or so she thinks. They’ve both grown up since way back then. And he’s followed by the captain of the guards and... and this can’t be real.

Delusion from the blood loss, she decides, as she closes her eyes.

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

She wakes up three weeks later, in a hospital in Corona... and there’s mommy and daddy. The boy who rescued her... and a girl, a girl Hannah doesn’t recognize at first.

But then she realizes... they’ve both gotten bigger, after all. It’s Ruby. It’s her sister, it’s mommy and daddy and Ruby and Carter and--

“Is this real?” She croaks out, and mommy looks up and immediately peppers her with kisses as daddy takes her hand.

And it’s real. It’s real, it’s happening.

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

But it’s not okay. When Hannah finally goes back home, Ruby’s leading her around it all again when a loud crash echoes down the hall and Hannah cries out in panic.

Because it’s not home and it’s not her family and it’s not safe. It’s back there and it’s him and he’s angry and she’s in danger. She can’t breathe, she can’t get away, all she can do is curl up and cry and--

But then she hears daddy’s voice. She doesn’t know how long it’s been, but Hannah takes a deep breath suddenly, looking up at him and wiping her tears away. Back home, back to her family... back to safe.

Not okay. Not going to be okay for a while.

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

At fifteen, Hannah Cassandra Fitzherbert has changed.

Being blonde got her taken away. So her hair’s purple.

Being a princess made her an easy target. So she wears all black and spikes and other gothic details.

Leaving the palace had led directly to trouble. So she doesn’t go out.

Going anywhere without her family was why she’d made a bad decision. So she’s always with her parents or her sister.

But it hurts.

Everything just builds and builds in her head and she just wants it out, just wants--

Carter walks in one day to find her slitting her wrist.

He takes charge of the situation... never once telling her family. Simply taking precautions to keep her from trying again... or worse. And then he takes her out to town.

Even though she’s scared, he saved her life. She follows him. And he takes her to a tattoo parlor in town. He’d spoken to her parents, there was already a waiver signed and ready. She doesn’t know what he told them... but he promised he wouldn’t tell them what he saw.

So Hannah gets her first tattoo. Something simple and small to start... even after five years of worse, somehow, she’s scared of her first tattoo hurting.

Five small black tally marks, across the scar left by her last attempt. A reminder.

Five small white tally marks on the other wrist. A promise.

Her first big tattoo matches with Carter. A rainbow heart puzzle piece (him) and the rainbow colors missing a heart in the center (her), with the words “I will follow you” (him, across the top) and “into the dark” (her, across the bottom).

It gets easier... and it helps. Hannah stops harming herself. Hannah starts feeling ready to try living again.

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

So before she knows it, she’s at Auradon Prep again. All her childhood friends... but she doesn’t know them, not anymore. And they don’t know her. It’s not easy fitting back in.

So she takes it one day at a time. Hannah makes great friends with her roommate, Isabella, who becomes her greatest confidant and... one of the only people who makes her feel safe without the slightest trace of judgement or question.

One of the first people to help Hannah feel... normal, again.

Then she meets Hollis. From the instant they speak to each other she knows that they’ve seen their own fair share of shit. And it’s not right... it’s...

She wants to help them. And anyone else... who feels like the two of them do. Anyone else who just seems... stuck, in their own mind. Because god knows Auradon’s not great at this.

So they create Works in Progress. A promise to try and make things better... for everyone.

And, of course, there’s Hakon. A pain in the ass that she can’t seem to get rid of... and it’s not like she’s trying too hard. He’s amusing, what can she say? Even when he’s annoying.

Plus, she has his permission to slap him! He’s great! Even if he calls her “buttercup”. He’s a drama queen anyways.

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

She and Ruby get into a fight. Hannah’s not even sure she remembers over what anymore. It feels stupid.

But Hannah spirals. Badly. She destroys the mural she’d been working on in her room, ruining Ruby’s face within it before realizing she couldn’t take it. Holly, Ruby, the stares she still felt...

Hannah Cassandra Fitzherbert ran into the woods, planning to never be found again. Just a half-hearted attempt at a note to tell Izzy not to worry, besides the fact Izzy was on house arrest and couldn’t go after her...

...but Hakon could, and he did.

When night fell, she’d panicked. She was lost and it was dark... and all she had were the clothes on her back, nobody was going to find her, and it was cold... but he found her.

Hakon hadn’t dragged her back. Had just sat with her until she was calm before taking her back to AP.

It was the first time she realized... that maybe, just maybe, she could have someone who genuinely... cared for her like that. But she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know if she wants to be in love.

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

But she is. And so is he. He’s so flustered when he asks her on their first date and she’s in such shock that Izzy almost has to answer for her. It’s so embarrassing and just... insane.

Then their first date and he spoils her, and cares for her and for the first time she’s not scared of trying. For the first time she’s ready to give it her all.

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

For the first time in her life, Hannah Cassandra Fitzherbert fucking fights back.

Because Homecoming was not supposed to go this way. This witchy little bitch wasn’t going to spell away her boyfriend, Holly fucking Ericsdottir was not going to fuck up this night, hell to the no.

So she, Ruby, and Izzy go back in to fight. But they get paralyzed before... to her shock, Ruby heals them. Ruby makes them able to fight off the gas and... and oh god, Ruby has mom’s magic hair and Hannah wants to panic...

But she can’t, not now. So she gets onstage and squares up to Sarah... winning, in the end, to her surprise. Because she’s never been strong. Never been tough, never been a fighter. But she had to.

And she’ll do it again,

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

Hannah put so much effort into her recovery. She’d even bleached her hair for a while. But when November comes around she realizes she’s not ready, dyes her hair back and cuts it again, trying to ready herself for the day of.

Nothing she did could prepare her for what would happen. Painting a mural in the art room when he comes in behind her... dragging her back into the woods, because he wants Ruby... but she’s the easy target.

A trade. Hannah’s world is upside down and she doesn’t know how to breathe when Hakon arrives with what looks like Ruby. And she cries, tries to tell them not to do this, but as she makes the approach...

She sees under the cloak, and it’s Eira.

It’s not Ruby.

But he saw her relief, he’d grabbed her and Eira and... Hakon tries to defend her, only to get stabbed instead.

Eira freezes through her kidnapper’s heart and... and that’s over. He’s gone... it’ll never happen again.

But Hakon... Hannah sobs, shakily, as she cradles his body, pressing a final kiss against his lips.

And to her surprise, he wakes up.

True love’s kiss. Works every time.

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

She wasn’t okay, not by a long shot but... Hakon was getting better, recovering in the hospital. And really?

Hannah Cassandra Fitzherbert is ready to try again.

She’s ready to be strong. Somehow.

[pinesconessecrets]

A perfect holiday

For @say-hey-im-gay  Hope you like it! :D

“Hey…Dipper?” he said, making his roommate turn slowly to look at him with tired eyes “I… I made cookies, do you want some?” he offered while showing the tray he was carrying, which was full of slightly misshapen gingerbread men.

“Sure, thanks Wirt” he sat up and he smiled a little in his direction, patting the space in the bed beside him for him to sit as well.

Wirt almost sighed in relief. Ever since receiving the news of the airline suspending their flights Dipper had been devastated, because unlike Wirt that could visit his family every weekend if he so desired, distance made that practically impossible for him. It had been a year and a half without being able to see his sister (because studying in Italy made it hard for her to travel too often) and two without seeing his parents and great uncles. But that Christmas everyone had the time and money to reunite and spend the holidays together, thing that had Dipper almost bursting of happiness and energy, allowing him to take his finals head on and to smile despite everything bad that happened that year. And then the airline called, saying that his flight was canceled due to the weather. No matter how hard he tried to find another way to travel, everything had either been canceled or was full to the brim.

It wasn’t fair.

“Wirt?” he called, a headless gingerbread man in his hand that could easily be the eighth wonder of the world with how hard he was looking at it “I know you want to cheer me up, and I’m really thankful for that, but…” he sighed, turning his eyes to watch him instead “you don’t have to spend winter break with me, Wirt, your family is waiting for you”

And that was the thing, wasn’t it?

Dipper was completely right, his family lived two hours on car away and even with the snow and the cold wind it wasn’t that hard to go home on time. What was stopping him, then? Camaraderie towards his best friend? A lack of desire to see his family? A ‘better safe than sorry’ situation?

No.

The real reason was the big crush he had on Dipper, and that spending a couple of days together without the pressure of school on their shoulders was too big of an opportunity to pass.

“I already told you” he faked a cough trying to pretend his voice didn’t sound an octave higher than normal “they are going to spend Christmas with Dad’s side of the family, and they don’t like me very much. Neither do I” he added with a whisper “So I decided to go until New Year’s eve or a few days before it. And hey, if that allows me to hang out with you in peace, then it isn’t that bad. Right?”

“Hang out with me”

“Yeah…”

“while the weather is this awful”

“Yes…”

“And almost everything that we could’ve wanted to do is closed”

“Well… the ice ring the school has is open to students… and the coffee shop in front of the library is serving a delicious hot cocoa or so I’ve heard…”

A pause. And then a laugh.

“Well, how the fuck can I say no? You certainly know your way to a boy’s heart. What’s next, watching cheesy movies while cuddling?” Dipper said with a joking tone in his voice.

“If you’re lucky”

The blush on Dipper’s face was totally worth the embarrassment he had while saying that.

* * *

While it might look weird for a school to have a totally equipped ice ring at campus, no one at Ghibli College minded seeing as it allowed the hockey and the ice skating team to practice without trouble, just the same as the other clubs. And, even though all year long the entry was denied if you weren’t part of one of the teams, at winter break the ice ring was available to all the students staying at campus, as a way of making their stay more enjoyable.

Which was just so fucking perfect for Wirt, because while (almost) no one could argue his specialty were the poetry and playing the clarinet, he was also pretty decent at skating.

“Okay, okay, I think I’m getting the hang of this…” Dipper said, before slipping (again) and barely managing to grab Wirt’s arm on time to avoid fall on his face “Or so I thought���

“Well… it isn’t that hard, Dip. Just… think of it like stop being human for a second. And then, you are mythical being, freely roaming around the beautiful world Mother Nature has given you, gliding gracefully over…” he coughed, feeling how his cheeks seemed to go warmer by the second. What a way to ruin the moment “Sorry… I just…”

“No, it’s okay Wirt. I quite liked what you said” he smiled, a shy look in his face “It was cute. And really inspiring” he added with a wink “I might just drop out and go live in the woods like I’m mean to do”

“Shut up, Pines” embarrassed he gently pushed him, totally forgetting the lack of balance the other had “Oh God, Dipper!”

****

After apologizing over and over (and picking Dipper from the floor), they stayed an hour skating (or, in Dipper’s case, trying not to fall) before finally deciding that it was enough and they were cold, hungry and sore (and that last one wasn’t only in Dipper’s case, because he had gotten his sweet revenge pushing Wirt to the ice a few times).

As they made their way towards the coffee shop, Wirt couldn’t help but to watch Dipper from the corner of his eye. He seemed to be feeling better, his eyes shining the way they did when he finished a mystery book and a soft smile that he had only saw a few other times before. And considering that one of those times was the day he met his friend Soos’ daughter… well, could anyone really blame him for wanting to stop the world and bathe in the feeling the thought of making Dipper that happy gave him?

“So” said Dipper after a moment of comfortable silence where they cautiously sipped their drinks “where did you learn to skate like that?”

“You say that as if I were a professional and not just a person that doesn’t have balance problems” he laughed as Dipper punched him softly in the shoulder “Well… when I was a kid Mom was always encouraging me to try and make friends, and that included her taking me to different clubs or courses” he sighed and frowned a little at the memories “One day she took me to the ice skating club of the city, and I stayed because it was one of the few activities I enjoyed”

“I see…” he munched on his second cupcake before speaking again “my parents did the same. I hated it because they never gave me the chance to choose one, but thanks to it I discovered my passion for the piano so…” he shrugged and smiled with chocolate stained lips “worth it”

He smiled and took a sip from his coffee, his mind immediately moving from his childhood memories to the ones of Dipper playing the piano: his long fingers moving through the keys, his fingernails painted just like Mabel had done them in his first concert; his lips that tried to stay in a perfect line in order to look professional, but that if you payed enough attention you could watch them turn upward when he got lost in the feeling of playing or downward when he thought he had messed up somewhat; and the way the rest of his body seemed to connect with the piano, his entire being focusing on the melody and the melody only.

He wondered if Dipper would like to play with him someday.

* * *

“Okay, I have to admit” said Dipper before throwing himself over the couch “that went way better than I thought. Thanks” he turned to smile at Wirt, only to have a blanket thrown at his face “Hey! What the-”

“Hush. You have a lot of luck so I’m gonna put the first sitcom I find in Netflix and then we are gonna cuddle. Any questions?” he said faking confidence. Oh God, he really was going to do it, wasn’t he?

Dipper blinked slowly. Once. Twice. On the third, Wirt had to fight a wince.

And there it was, the cute laugh Dipper was so ashamed of, the one he always tried so hard not to do. But right now he didn’t seem to care, laughing as if he didn’t have a single problem in his life.

“Oh, my, I’m way too lucky, uh?” with a big grin in his face he turned and shifted until finding a position he liked “Hurry up! Come here and cuddle me, loser”

It wasn’t long before they were watching the fourth episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, their limbs intertwined and their bodies warm and comfortable. It felt so natural to be together that way, yet Wirt couldn’t help but think it could be so much better. He just had to take a chance.

“I’m in love with you” was mumbled into soft brown curls. A snort soon followed and arms tightened their hold around his body.

“I thought it was obvious that I love you too, dork”

The rest of their day was spend that way, with the two of them watching Netflix while cuddling and talking in low voices. Their Christmas’ eve dinner? A pizza they made with the few ingredients left in their pantry and that was miraculously comestible. Their Christmas’ gifts? The ones they already had for the other and a sweater exchange they thought of in the moment.

Looking around, at Wirt asleep by his side wearing the Doctor Who themed sweatshirt he gave him (it was the only one that fit him) and the rainbow blanket Mabel had gifted him two years ago covering them both, Dipper couldn’t help but think it was perfect.  

He might not have everything he wanted, but at least love wasn’t something he lacked in his life.

[lighthouseofthewanderess]

Goodbye

We’re all clear success isn’t a measure of the cars you own, the house, a perfect job, or family vacations every year. I’m sick of all the quotes that do nothing but bounce off the surface. The supposed pushing of self to do better and get to the end of the rainbow. But a rainbow’s a pretty swell thing by its own. The pot of gold is just a carrot to think you’re getting somewhere. Here’s a thought -- what if every day, you’re already there. Whatever moment you’re expecting when you reach the end is what you’re capable of feeling right here, right now. People underrate the small things that contribute equally to the meaning of ‘success’.

Being a single parent is harder than they say it is. I’ve seen my mom spend all her time with me for the past 2 decades and give up equally much. She stayed in a job just because there was no other alternative. She broke it to her daughter that there simply was no money to pursue medical science. But I see her stand tall next to me; as If I represent all the years she’s put in. Her face has wrinkled, her eyes widen up as she counts out change for the groceries. She forgets things, sometimes even gifts that I’ve got for her. I’ve never seen her pamper herself, try to marry again, or meet anyone even. Her life was simply never in the equation. It was always about me. For her, the measure of success is giving me a life she thought she couldn’t. Not without the concept of a family. Her little ways of knowing she’s done good is letting me pick whatever color of curtain I wanted in my room. To take me around town in a first-hand car. To cover the prices on the menu and warn me not to piss her off. That’s what I’m talking about. Yesterday maybe, none of this would’ve been possible, but today it is. And they’re all a bunch of little things that reflect equally on a point in life when things aren’t out of whack. When I take her out for dinner or book ourselves a spa date she shies away and says its a lot of money. But it also gives her another measure; her daughter is spending on things that were a luxury in her time. Here progress is success.

I remember making a little list of things I want to buy when I get a job. To me, success meant landing a good job. It meant reaching a moment where you can start building castles in the sky. But once I got there, I didn’t feel like I achieved anything. I felt it in the little things but not in walking into a job that I had landed. In a coffee from Starbucks -- a shop that was always far from my reach. In buying books off Amazon and watching the parcels reach an address. In a solo trip where money just melted away. Where I would have the luxury to take a couple days off and see a new place without anyone to steer my ship. I would smile whenever I found myself not giving it much thought but just doing the things I want. That was a little victory. For someone who’s always thought of the money first, to spend on herself. Here freedom is success.

Maybe I’m still talking about elusive things. Let’s come down to my clear compass for a sense of achievement. I’ve seen how movies have it all wrong. A serial killer probably turned out that way because he had an abusive childhood. The villain got his pure hatred because he was bullied in school. She saw violence as a child and ended up in prostitution. What are these character sketches even? Taking a minuscule sampling and repeating it on film over and over again until the jokes along the same vein start to prop up. Those who have gone through some trauma run the risk of personality disorders, clinical depression, insomnia, and a whole host of other issues. But there’s two ways to look at it. Either you add to those silly stereotypes or prove them wrong. And as a strong-headed Aries, I just had to prove them wrong.

The last few years saw me deal with all my big D related problems. I was doing great at work, the organization was bagging awards with things I had helped on. That’s because I had high-functioning anxiety. It helped me be super productive, have my mind on multiple things and move really fast with it all. It didn’t do anything for my self confidence. For the award night, I remember shopping alone trying to pick out a dress that would help me look like ‘I got this thing’. Even when I found it, I felt insecure wearing it. And on the stage a pretty girl smiled and shook hands but I was caving into myself. This wasn’t the sweet taste of success if inside I felt I didn’t deserve it. Getting out of the house was a task, every day felt like I didn’t have the strength in me. It was as though the wind would blow me away. On my bike, riding slow, I would feel the wheels drifting off to the side. Where was my center of gravity? Where was that core that would forever burn my light like the sun? Even on the off days, I wouldn’t like to get near the bed and give myself a break. I kept myself busy because the mind was a great magician who convinced me I wasn’t doing enough in life. It was a slow but painful process. To get out, to spend time with friends after dark. To tell myself that I am good enough, and where I am is good enough. Getting that positivity in me took forever, but once it did, I found happiness in the small things. In throwing a house party, in buying a swimming costume, in trying on outfits that were clearly chic. But that’s where I found my success. And like it or not, these small bursts count more than publications, headlines, awards, piled up gifts, or insane hikes. Success here is gifting yourself memories.

A colleague of mine, Kavya, brought out another important facet to this whole conversation. We ended up good people. People capable of loving, of giving and taking the world as it comes. The intricacies of why it is hard will be felt only if you went through something equally bad. And while I’m at it, let me give a tip for the people who you might be helping out. Please don’t say ‘I know what you’re feeling.’ It gets us super annoyed; not because we’re better at feeling pain but because it is impossible for any human to know and feel what the other person is going through. So stick to more harmless things like ‘I’m there for you.’ or “Do you want ice cream’ -- these we don’t mind so much. Going back to Kavya’s words as we sat up on the terrace talking about life and the like. Loving had to mean feeling. And just the right amount. If you felt nothing or way too much, it could fall into a disorder. I look at us like double-edged swords. On one side we're reactive and can lash out. And on the other we simply are our past, which could be dangerous in itself. To move from there and give love, I started with accepting what happened to me. To tell myself hurting another person because I was hurt isn’t going to heal me. To believe that the other person is deserving of my love even though I have been deprived of it. And getting comfortable with the fact that revenge is reserved for the movies and in real life it is spiteful. It meant building walls because only you are ever really there for yourself. You may have a wonderful partner, a loving family, but at the end of the day no one is going to war for you when you’re not in the picture. Then it was about operating this mechanism where the walls can come down instead of breaking it down entirely and exposing yourself. And this thought didn’t come without a few burnt fingers. Moments filled with too much hope in the world only to limp back because what else did you expect? Moments filled too much hate that it turned the atmosphere sour and made you cancel plans for the fear of ruining it again. After the walls were strong and the self fortified, there was still one big, huge quality I struggled to get. Trust was my biggest fear. To me it meant giving direct access to my castle, to operate the walls at their will. And I just couldn’t do it. Even with my own mom I couldn't. It wasn’t shown in the big decisions like where to invest what. I am smart enough to let people who know it better, do it. But it came in directing her on the streets because I didn't trust her to do it on her own. In standing next to her as she baked cake because I was sure it’ll get messed up. My mom didn’t know about my anxiety issues for 2 years either because I couldn’t trust her to believe me. I didn’t think she would get it, I was worried she’ll not even consider it a problem. That big cloud of imagined consequences kept me from telling her anything about my life. This is something I did with a lot of people. I kept my castle in plain sight and widened the moat around it. The cold distance could be felt the minute someone saw me from afar. I wasn’t welcoming, I didn’t want to be everyone's friend. I didn’t trust them enough to stay, to not leave me behind. And so, I didn’t want to give them any leverage either to hurt me with my own stories. I’ve stayed with one workplace for 4 years, I saw many people come and go. People I couldn’t deny not loving. Sunflowers that just spread so much light and happiness in my life that I couldn’t stop myself from trusting them. And when they left, I felt pangs of loss. I felt that I will be forgotten, no one sunflower will come my way or that this was all just a game. But thanks to them, and the way they still tuned in on my life, I realized trust is something you build over time. It is like a bridge. The walls stay, the moat stays. But everyone who really wants to know you will spend time to build that bridge and stay inside. Success here is letting love in. Till today, I’ve done a great job of not trusting people. Years have flown and yet the closest ones to me know only a fraction. It is an inside joke with myself. People think I open up easy. I share willingly and matters of sensitivity. That I am an open book. But in reality, it’s only the pages I’ve shown you that you’ve read. But now it’s all out, the entire thing. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to let you in, and now that you’ve met the real me, I hope you stay.

[margridarnauds]

laz and solene pls

THANKS FOR MY LIFE AVERY

Lazare

Sexuality Headcanon: GAY GAY GAY. I mean, the man has a RAINBOW across his crotch at one point. (Now, you could argue that it was a trick of the lighting, but come on. We know the truth.) Possibly with a side of demi, since I really don’t think that he really has any interest in sex until Ronan comes into his life, despite having a longtime (unfortunate and unrequited) crush on Artois and I genuinely can’t see him, say, going to a brothel or even having an affair with another officer or a soldier. I just think the man, with one, single exception, is more or less completely married to his job, and given the emphasis in army training on avoiding libertinism, the idea that “vices” weren’t inherent and could be stomped out, and my own headcanons as far as his family history...it ain’t gonna happen no matter what. Like, there are probably ongoing challenges in court as to who can successfully get the D, with no one being successful. (This has led to a number of young ladies swarming him at any given function in the hopes that they’ll be the one to melt his brooding heart.) In some AUs, like the Polyam AU, he’s obviously bi, but that’s the odd one out on multiple levels and is one of the few I’d really put into its own continuity (Come on, it acknowledges R/O, for God’s sake.) Asexual homoromantic Laz is also Very Important to me, with him trying to deal with everything because Ronan unleashes SQUISHY FEELINGS in him but he still doesn’t feel any sexual attraction towards him, though he’s not 100% opposed to sex in principle, and Ronan taking it personally because it’s Ronan and, in all fairness, it’s not like they have pamphlets on asexuality in the 18th century, though eventually they decide to navigate it in a way that makes them both happy.

Gender Headcanon: Generally, I write him as more or less cis, but trans Laz has a very, very special place in my heart since it puts his need to conform to society in an entirely different light. Like, it could be a Lady Oscar-esque situation where he’s an only child and Mama Peyrol and Papa de Peyrol (mainly Mama de Peyrol because *someone* is probably either in a brothel or on campaign WHOOPS) get worried and just...straight up raise him as a guy from the time he’s about 4-5 years old and he’s okay with it because, well, he is a guy and he’s happy that they finally notice that (and since boys habitually wore dresses until about the age of 7 when they had their breeching, this wouldn’t even be a Major Deal and they could probably come up with some bullshit reason for why they’d had a daughter baptized but now have a healthy son. Or if not, they just, like, bribe the local priest. Because they’re aristocrats and can afford to do shit like that). Then Papa de Peyrol dies, Grandpapa de Fuck comes into play, and it becomes more of a Thing, with always Upholding the De Peyrol Name and Fulfilling His Duty becoming the focus rather than, idk, raising a well-adjusted kid. Like, he gets some points for not misgendering him, but on every other level? Dude’s still an asshole. Because he’s Grandpapa de Fuck.

Laz is taught that he has to be the best grandson and heir that he can be, that no one can ever have a suspicion about him, which also becomes a bit of a strain as the pressure to marry looms in the future and Grandpapa de Fuck dies without even being useful. (Typical). And so Laz tries very, very hard to conform, to not so much as bend a single rule, to be the perfect military man. He gets this reputation for being standoffish from the time he’s a young officer, about the age of 14, never really interacting with the other men, even changing his clothes in secret, always sleeping on his own when he has the opportunity to, and, despite the other officer’s best efforts, never going into a brothel or having an affair no matter how many bets they make among themselves. Until one day some reckless peasant boy charges into his life and Laz really, really tries to fight it because this could ruin EVERYTHING but. It’s Ronan. Ronan’s persistent. And also an oblivious toenail so it takes a little while to get it through his head that, no, Laz is still a man and Ronan’s STILL gay AF. (Sorry, Ronan, you can’t no-homo your way out of this one. Full homo. All the homo.)

A ship I have with said character: R/L is pretty much my be all, end all for Laz, though I also can and do ship O/L and R/O/L.

A BROTP I have with said character: Poor Laz in canon doesn’t really have any friends that we see, unless you count the one time he and Artois conspire. (I don’t.) Even though I tend to have his troops shipping Laz/Ronan, that’s out of selfishness as much as anything else (if he’s getting laid, he might not be so snappish.) In the Abomination (which...obviously doesn’t go with the whole “Peyrol wanting to fire on him”...thing from the Zuka version), I like the dynamic between Laz and Papa du Puget, where you have the latter really helping him out in terms of figuring out where he is in terms of his relationship with Ronan and getting his sense of individuality back. Like, it shouldn’t require a neon sign to say “Hey, maybe not having anything to do with your boyfriend except for when you have sex might be part of the reason why he’s not speaking to you right now, maybe cuddle with him?” but Laz is new to this, doesn’t exactly have a roadmap, and thinks that his relationship with Ronan can be neatly packaged into his schedule. Which...surprise, it can’t be. Since du Puget is also very much a man of the Enlightenment with a HUGE library to match it (really, we know this, because when the Bastille fell he demanded compensation for it), if anyone can help Laz get grounded again, it’s him. And, since Laz is about 24-ish in the Abomination, he’s the perfect age to be Du Puget’s son (with Olympe being about 19), which adds an extra dimension as du Puget (my very, very specific version of him modeled after the historical figure) really mirrors Laz’s father in a lot of ways, from his friendship with de Sade (who Laz *loathes*) to his military career and his habit of occasionally having affairs. (Which is pretty shitty, but not unexpected given the times.) The difference is, du Puget really does get the opportunity to do what Papa de Peyrol never could: Do his best to protect Lazare from Grandpapa de Fuck’s influence, even if the damage has already been mostly done, as well as ultimately give up his career and his post for his family. (For what it’s worth, I tend to headcanon Papa de Peyrol as a wannabe Validad who was just...flawed in his implementation of it. Like, my take on him is this guy who would always bring back his son toys and souvenirs from his campaign, tell him stories when he tucked him into bed, etc., but whose own weaknesses ultimately still led to his death and his widow being left absolutely destitute to the point where she had to make a deal with Grandpapa de Fuck. Because it’s the 18th century and life’s a bitch, especially if you’re a widow with weakened financial prospects and a young child and your father in law is convinced your kid is his second chance from God.)

A NOTP I have with said character: Generally, I’d say Artois/Laz in anything that’s not set pre-canon given that, for all it could be interesting in a fucked up way, there’s no way it’ll end up well for Laz, but I have also seen Danton/Laz and it scarred me deeply. Salieri/Laz is something I’ve also seen a bit, which I don’t *get* because any time they would have met it’d be like: *gay staring*

*gay staring*

*gay panic*

*gay panic*

And then both of them rushing over to their extroverted boyfriends. If anything, I could only really see the two of them bonding over having absolutely ridiculous boyfriends (and, if it gets to postcanon for both, bonding over WHOOPS I ACCIDENTALLY KILLED MY BOYFRIEND).  

A random headcanon: Oh God, pretty much everything I have on him is a headcanon. Like, even the things I take for granted on him (like Sugardaddy!Laz) are headcanons. The man is one massive, walking headcanon because no one in the writer’s room wanted to sit down and work on their contract cop-out; they were just like “fuck, let him keep Maniaque. And give him this new song. And a bit in the opening, where he demonstrates the beginning of his homoerotic tension lifelong hatred with the lead. That’s good, right?”

Laz always liked music growing up; he liked how steady the beats were, he liked the smooth texture of the harpsichord keys, he liked his mother sometimes sitting him on her knee and gently moving his fingers over the right keys, he liked the way he could channel himself into the music. Communication was hard, mired in social niceties that he didn’t always understand, things that the adults treated like they were life and death, but music was simple. Hitting the key one place produced one sound, hitting it in another produced another, every time. When his father was at home, he would sit in the drawing room and listen to the two of them play, applauding at the right moments and praising Lazare enthusiastically. This was the first time young Lazare tasted success and praise, and he basked in it. By the time his father died, when was about seven or eight, he was quite good at it in his own right.

Obviously, since this was a bright, happy period in Lazare’s life, guess what Grandpapa de Fuck did? Yep, it went out the window. A man, Grandpapa de Fuck believed, could only ever be talented at one thing, barring some few geniuses (with his grandson not being among them), and Lazare was going to be a soldier. Everything else was going to go. As with most things relating to his childhood that his grandfather robbed him of, he chose to convince himself that it had been a childish indulgence. He still felt the music, though, in the steady rhythm of soldier’s boots and the beat of the regimental drum, but he could only direct it now, never play it for himself. Once, when he was a young officer being used by enthralled with the Comte d’Artois, the latter took him to a performance of an opera, chastising him when he noticed the way Lazare’s hands moved throughout the performance. Lazare buried it even further, not even talking about it when it could be avoided, much less consuming it.

Then, Ronan comes into his life. And Ronan’s not a music critic; the most he knows are the peasant songs they played at festivals or sang as together in the winter months when things looked bleak and they had little else to do. He probably doesn’t know the difference between a harpsichord and a piano, just that they’re Rich People’s Instruments. But, despite everything else, despite the hard time he gives Peyrol for it at first, he ends up egging him into taking classes again because, Hell, it’s something besides homicide that makes Laz happy and, for all of their differences as a couple, Ronan wants him to be happy. And it’s frustrating, because he should know how to do this; for so long everything in his life has been something that he already knew and could predict and, with this, he can hear his failure. There are many times that he takes his anger out on the keys or scatters the sheet music around. But, over time, he feels himself improving, the keys start to become old friends to him, and, gradually, he starts to play again. And it’s not like it was when he was a child, there is no audience eager to praise him, but, sometimes during a late practice session, Ronan will come over from behind (with some amount of warning, since approaching the experienced army officer from behind tends to have unforeseen consequences), drowsily nuzzle into Laz’s neck, and it’s just as good. (Also, he probably reaches around to play a few notes of “Ah, Ca Ira” or “La Marseillaise” while Laz is briefly distracted because Ronan Mazurier is, first and foremost, a little shit). (Also, they totally bang on the harpsichord at one point.)

General Opinion over said character: MY SON. My useless, emotionally repressed, gay, homicidal, aristocratic son who needs to have some sense knocked in his head but is trying his best and is quite possibly the only officer in Paris who is actually doing his job. Deserves more screentime and/or cuddles from his boyfriend who is STILL ALIVE, thank you very much, if and when he gets into the position when he’ll accept them. I wish he got something resembling character development or an arc, but HE’S MINE NOW. (And, tbh, I’m a little worried that it’ll be a monkey’s paw type situation with him getting more time. Like, I’m fully prepared to sell my soul to the Toho production, but I’m also preparing myself to see a much darker take on my son than I’m used to. Including when it comes to Ronan. And that might be a bitter pill to swallow.) Even though I love all my sons equally, I prefer the opportunity for nuance that original!Laz afffords (and the amount of Done he seems to be most of the time), as the other two lean a little more towards sadistic (though sex dungeon Laz is too good for me to pass up entirely). Also, I still hold Toho!Laz as an ideal faceclaim for Grandpapa de Fuck. 

Someone please save him. I would, but I’m too busy tossing him into the Seine atm.

Solene

Sexuality Headcanon: Solene’s sexuality has always been tricky for me because bisexual Solene is very near and dear to my heart (ONE OF US, ONE OF US), but I could also make an argument for lesbian Solene who separates her working life from her private life. In another universe, she very likely would have ended up with a man no matter what, I’m not sure if she’d have been entirely content, but she probably wouldn’t have questioned it so long as she was decently secure and well-cared for, like most WLW throughout history probably did. Even in canon, I could see her taking up with a man (like in the Zuka and Toho versions where she and Danton have a longer term “relationship”), because it’s a means of security + stability so long as he’s not some abusive assfuck who thinks that he owns her, but as far as actual trust and companionship are concerned? I can only really see it with women, which makes sense when you consider how closely tied Solene really is to women, especially in the French and Toho versions where she’s got “Je Veux le Monde” which is literally her belting out about how awesome women are and how men (specifically Ronan) are too blinded by their own ambition and bloodlust + the fact that we always see her surrounded by the other women, during La Nuit M’Appelle, Je Veux le Monde, and Fixe.

Gender Headcanon: She’s most likely a cis woman. Je Veux le Monde has a great emphasis on childbirth, etc. associated with that, though I could also roll with a significant portion of that being her taking power in her own terms, using the only language she knows, like she also seems to be doing in La Nuit, while still perhaps being a little unhappy with the way gender identity is dealt with in 18th century French society. 

A ship I have with said character: Solene/Olympe. Like...was there any doubt?

“Oh, I think Peyronan’s my OTP and I can’t wait to work on all my fanfiction for them!” *Accidentally writes Solympe fic after Solympe fic*

“How did THAT happen?”

I mean, it does help that they aren’t at each other’s throats for the early part of their relationship, unlike SOME PEOPLE.

In all honesty, given how little Solene actually gets to do, there’s really not all that much room for shipping, save with the women around her and Lucille in the Zuka version. Which is an option, definitely, given that they “become friends” BUT.

A BROTP I have with said character: Despite headcanoning Solene as one of a VERY small number of people who can genuinely scare Laz, I do like to imagine the two of them bonding over Ronan’s more ridiculous moments. Like, at first she’s pissed as HELL at him for obvious reasons, but it also becomes a matter of “What did he do this time?” “He told me that my chess set was royalist propaganda. Then he jumped out the window. I have yet to try to retrieve him” “*Sigh* Let me talk to him.” And, in the Abominationverse, with the advent of the twins, Uncle Lazare is the nearest thing they have to a responsible adult when Solene and Olympe want to have a date night and Olympe’s parents are otherwise occupied, and since the children are already strangely drawn to him, well...there are worse babysitters, especially during the period of time when Ronan is off playing Hero of the Revolution and the twins are the only thing Laz really has to keep his mind off of him.

A NOTP I have with said character: Solene/Danton as a ship somewhat creeps me out, given that (1) He still has the ability to throw her out on the street with nothing and (2) ...Historically, we know how this one’s going to work out. Danton’s married, eventually he’s going to marry a fifteen year old a couple of weeks after his wife dies, and then he gets fucking guillotined. There is no way Solene doesn’t get fucked over AGAIN in this one. (Also, I just...don’t see them as a romantic couple. He was a customer, they did the do, Ronan was SUPER pissed about it and Danton’s probably forever on his shit list for it, but still. It wasn’t a *romance* for her. It was food for the day. It was part of her rent for the month.)

A random headcanon: The pink ring that Solene wears in the “Je Veux le Monde” music video (and, seemingly, in the showcase video) belonged to her mother. When Mama Mazurier realized she wasn’t going to survive her last birth, when Solene was probably about 5-7, she pressed it deep into the girl’s hand, as if hoping that she could press the ring into her memory as well. It was the last movement she would make in this life. As time went on, the taxes mounted up as one disaster after another seemed to befall the family. They sold off whatever they could, with the ring being one of the few things that remained. (And it got to the point where their debt was so high that, really, selling the ring wouldn’t have helped in the long run, and so Papa Mazurier decided that at least Solene could have it, nearly crying for the first time in front of his children when she offered it to him once before firmly putting it back on her finger). She briefly considered selling it off when she got to Paris, to the point where she had it in the palm of her hand, ready to sell to a street vendor before she decided that it wasn’t worth it, feeling the sharp press of metal when she clasped it hard. When Ronan later told her, “When people lose their dignity, it’s the end,” he didn’t know what she’d done to avoid doing just that. Ronan, as always, saw only what she’d lost, rather than what she’d kept.

Also, since I’m just returning home from the angst wars with Laz and he got a nice, long headcanon, Papa Mazurier loved both of his children equally. Really, he did. He was a true validad, which is also why he had to die. But, looking back, Ronan always felt a little bit like he was the least favorite of the two of them, because it seemed like, generally, Solene tended to get what she wanted more. In reality, though, as Solene would later tell Ronan when he, Olympe, Lazare, and her were sitting down together, it was really just that she knew how to ask for things tactfully, including when to wait, whereas Ronan went in guns blazing. Solene learned how to play the long game, and it paid off. (Also, even though she was initially pissed off over her brother screwing their father’s murderer after abandoning her to pursue a half-baked revenge plot, she is also personally amazed at the fact that, not only did Ronan get a gig that her and most of her friends DREAMED of, a furnished apartment with a faithful, devoted, aristocratic lover who is willing to buy him anything he asks for, not the least well-tailored outfits, he did it accidentally. By continuously insulting him. In prison. If Ronan ever screws this up, Solene is going to personally kill him. And then kick Laz’s ass because Ronan is still her brother dammit.)

General Opinion over said character: Hello, continuing evidence of my bisexuality. The Superior Mazurier Sibling, AKA THE ONE WHO ACTUALLY HAS SOME COMMON SENSE. Deserved better writing, hot cocoa, and to have seen Olympe at least one time that wasn’t over her brother’s corpse. She is one of the few things I think the French cast did best with, since later productions really tried to sanitize her, though I love Zuka!Solene directly calling out Ronan in La Nuit m’Appelle. LET HER HAVE A PLOTLINE DAMMIT. Also: WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T WE GET HER SHOWCASE COSTUME?  (Also, Matthieu Carnot would have rocked as her sibling, just saying.) I just...have many emotions about Solene Mazurier and what she deserves and what she got and I will never forgive the show for skimping on her storyline the entire time and then having the last thing we see of her being her crying her eyes out over the brother who abandoned her (and, okay, in other productions, they reconcile, but it doesn’t ACHIEVE anything between the two of them and it’s mainly Solene reaching out to him whereas I want him groveling). It’s a good thing she hooks up with his beard after his funeral, otherwise the angst and overall incomplete nature of her arc might be too much to bear. 

[dreamsinger-rose]

Smacksgiving Day

So I was thinking about the Trolls Holiday Special, and how random and weird some of the holidays were. Also, how some were so in-your-face that they seemed to be intentionally annoying - and then it hit me. What if the holidays served as a kind of social pressure valve?

All holidays are supposed to be to "release the pressure", as Branch sings in the final song, but since the trolls are supposed to live in a happy, non-violent society, what happens when they get on each other's nerves?

It occurred to me that some of these “holidays” would be a great way to work off your anger at someone. Glitter-palooza - throw glitter in someone's face! Shock-A-Friend Day? Bleepy Sound Day? And one that sounded especially out-of-character for trolls - Smacksgiving Day. A holiday where they're allowed to hit each other? And then (of course) hug afterward.

Smacksgiving Day

Poppy stood nearby, looking at the long line that had formed in front of the booth Branch had built as he stood in the open space between the two side counters, which were piled high with frosting-topped jelly-brownies. "You sure you want to do this, Branch?"

He nodded stoically, his dark purple hair catching the sunlight and turning a vivid amethyst. "I do, Poppy. I know I've hurt a lot of trolls, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make peace with everyone."

"Well, okay…" She clapped her hands. "You heard him, everyone. Get ready to slap Branch in the face to give him some peace!”

She caught him giving her a ‘that’s not what I meant,’ look, but she simply smiled enigmatically at him.

***

Earlier that day…

“Happy Smacksgiving Day, everyone!” Poppy grinned at the vividly-colored cheeks that turned in her direction. “Ooo, Cooper, both cheeks? Someone’s popular today.”

She felt the sharp slap of a hand on her face and turned to see powder-blue Chenille beaming at her while her pink twin sister Satin put her hands on her hips. “Chenille, we agreed that I could slap her first!”

Chenille gave Poppy a quick hug, then backed away and sneered at Satin. “Oh, slap me!”

“Well…if you insist,” Satin said slyly, and swung the loop of hair that connected them around Poppy.

“Hey!” Poppy struggled to get her arms free as Satin used her as a pivot point, lifting and yanking and spinning the young queen dizzy as the twins squabbled, thoroughly engaged in what was apparently their favorite pastime aside from designing fashionable clothes.

Yodeling a mock battle cry, Guy Diamond made a wild leap for Smidge, who used her hair to zip up to the heights of a nearby giant mushroom. “Too slow, sucker!” her gravelly voice boomed.

Poppy used her magenta hair like a tripod to push her hair-wrapped body high into the air, attracting the attention of dozens of nearby trolls. “Guys, hold up a second! I have an important request to pass on!”

The watching trolls gave her mixed looks of curiosity and wariness. “For real, or is this just a trick to get us into slapping range?” Smidge asked, then shrugged. “Of course, if you need to resort to trickery, I shall have no mercy, but-”

“No, it’s a real request. It’s from Branch.” The twins loosened their hair and Poppy coiled her hair like a spring and bounced up to stand on the mushroom next to Smidge. “Can everyone come here for minute?” she called out to the brightly-colored crowd that had already begun to gather around their queen.

“Let me guess, he wants us to take it easy on him, since it’s his first Smacksgiving Day and all,” D.J. Suki suggested calmly. 

Many of the nearby trolls nodded their heads understandingly, smiling at the thought of the brave young troll who had given them all refuge in his well-stocked bunker and then left to help the princess on a rescue mission that ended up including the lives of every troll in the village.

“It figures,” Smidge began scornfully, but Poppy shook her head.

“No, just the opposite. He wants us to be hard on him.”

“What?” exclaimed a dozen trolls, with Guy Diamond’s oscillating tone rising above the general confusion. The crowd broke into a gabble of conversation, through which Poppy waited patiently while more and more trolls arrived.

When the majority of the village had gathered, she raised her hands and clapped then over her head. “Okay, listen up, everyone! Yesterday Branch asked me to let everyone know that he wants to make up for being such a buzzkill for most of his life. He’s offering to let anyone who wants to slap-hug him to go see him at the booth he’s setting up in the village square.”

“You mean he’s just going to stand there and let people slap him?” sentimental Satin asked her with wide eyes.

“Where’s the sport in that?” Smidge wrinkled her forehead.

“That doesn’t sound like much fun. It sounds like…punishment,” Cooper said slowly. “The bad kind, not funishment.”

“Poppy,” Biggie said carefully, his face creasing as he tried to understand. “Do you want us to …punish… Branch?”

The crowd gasped and Mister Dinkles mewed. “Oh my gad,” Smidge said, her eyes so huge they threatened to take up half her face.

“Noooo way!” Guy Diamond trilled indignantly. “We don’t punish. That’s not the troooll way!”

“No, no, no!” Poppy rapidly waved her hands from side to side. “It’s not – Well, I think he – I think Branch feels really bad about how mean he’s been to people over the years.”

“Why doesn’t he just apologize? We’d forgive him, wouldn’t we?” D. J. turned to look at the crowd and many of them nodded or smiled or murmured assent.

Poppy carefully noted that not everyone seemed to agree. Some trolls had a harder time forgiving and forgetting than others, including one special troll in particular who sometimes made her heart ache with sadness for him. She’d spent years trying to get through to him, and now that he was finally opening up a little, she was getting a better sense of who he was and how his mind worked. And how to finally soothe his heart.

She spoke up. “But this is Branch we’re talking about. He doesn’t think like other trolls. He takes things too seriously, and he has a tendency to feel responsible for things that maybe aren’t really his fault.” She felt the corners of her mouth turn down as her voice went a little husky. “And then he punishes himself for them.”

By the looks on their faces she knew her friends understood that she was referring to how he’d refused to allow himself to sing after his innocent childhood song had attracted the attention of the bergen that had eaten his grandmother in place of little Branch. Grief and guilt together had kept him gray and guarded for twenty long years, until the love and forgiveness Poppy and her friends had given him after his heartbreaking confession had finally begun to heal his heart. He’d smiled at her, a real smile free of sarcasm or artifice, a smile she did everything she could to bring out so that he would never fall back into the grayness.

At the uncharacteristically somber look on their queen’s face, the crowd’s chatter died down. Poppy smiled reassuringly down at everyone, explaining, “So we wouldn’t really be punishing him, we’d be helping him feel less guilty.”

“Ohhh.” The ripple of understanding caused bright smiles to spread through the crowd.

Smidge shrugged. “Fine by me. Colors or no colors; he’s still such a weirdo, but if it makes him happy…”

“Be gentle, everyone,” Poppy cautioned, watching hair of every color of the rainbow sway as they all nodded.

“Well, of course we will,” Cooper said reassuringly. “He’s our buddy!”

“Princess Poppy, what if we can’t think of anything to be mad at him for?” one of the children asked.

“Oh, you don’t have to do this. Branch just wants to give people a chance to speak their minds. If you’re not mad, it’s all good,” the rosy queen said cheerfully.

***

Most of the trolls satisfied themselves with a gentle slap to his pale aqua cheeks - which quickly became deep lavender, although Poppy suspected it was mostly due to shame rather than blunt force trauma.

Each of the gathered trolls also aired their grievances. The troll queen wasn’t sure how many were genuine and how many had been dreamed up by those trolls who felt it their duty to help lighten the burden of the brave young troll who had literally brought back the light inside all of them, but a few were so obviously fake that she slapped her forehead and groaned. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

"You told me my singing was off-key!" "Electric blue and orange do SO go together!" "You ruined three of my parties with your bergen-warnings! Even though you turned out to be right in the end, you never apologized for those other times!" “I hate cupcakes!”

Poppy raised an eyebrow. How is that Branch’s fault?

"I'm so sorry," he said to each troll. “Please forgive me.”

How could you not forgive that sad little face? Poppy felt her heart flutter and brought her hands up to cover her chest, smiling with loving empathy at the former recluse with sincere sky-blue eyes who was so determinedly doing what he thought was right, even though his method for doing so made more than a few trolls scratch their heads.  

Branch had a soulful, troubled look that made many of them pause, mentally comparing the woebegone face of the handsome aquamarine troll with the sour, hostile gray face that was all most of them could remember. The face that all of them had witnessed gain its long-lost colors right in front of them. The face that had literally brought them all back from the awful gray pit of numb despair, touching them all with his gentle compassion, his tender hope, and his passionate devotion to their beloved princess.

No one doubted that Branch was deeply in love with her, and watching the two of them now, with Poppy standing so protectively near him made most of them feel any remaining animosity for the young troll drain away, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling that was much preferred by the happiest creatures in the forest.

"Of course I forgive you," each troll replied. The hugs that followed were invariably warm and affectionate, and Branch was glad to receive every one.

“Would you like a jelly-brownie?” he offered. “They’re made from my grandma’s recipe.”

Poppy stood nearby with clasped hands, so proud of him she could hardly contain herself. When the last troll had gone, she looked at his puffy lavender cheeks and giggled. "Well, no one can say now that they're still mad at you after this. How long did that take, an hour?"

He shrugged, not wanting to say anything through sore lips. She gave him a sympathetic smile and took his hand in hers. "Come on, let's go put some cold compresses on your face."

He looked down at their clasped hands and fought to control the smile that wanted to torment his sore face. Instead he squeezed her hand, glad that she had not seemed to want to join the line, in spite of all the grief he'd given her over the years. Still, ever cautious, he decided to make sure. "Poppy?" he mumbled. As she turned to him, he shifted his grip to her wrist and held her hand up in front of his face.

"Oh." For a moment Poppy seemed to consider it. It was Smackgiving Day, after all. She twisted her hand out of his grasp and he closed his eyes, tilting his cheek up in silent offering.

Nothing happened for a long moment. He opened his eye a crack to see her giving him a loving smile, and then her hand loomed in front of his face and he reflexively closed his eye. Something made contact with his face, but rather than the sharp sting he had become accustomed to, her touch was gentle, soothing, a caress that slid down his sore face and under his chin, her fingers teasing his downy skin in a way that sent tingles right down to his toes. He pulled in a deep breath and his hands clenched as he held himself still, content to remain like that as long as she cared to touch him.

He remembered the look in her eyes, and smiled slightly despite his tender face, almost sure that the love he’d seen there was more than just friendship-love, but happy to see it there all the same. As long as she loved him there was a warmth inside him, a sense of connection, driving back the dark desolation that had once made him avoid all contact with others.

He dared not open his eyes, standing there in rapt pleasure until finally her hand moved away and he opened them to see her giving him a gentle, thoughtful look. "I guess I don't feel like it this year," she said in answer to the question he’d forgotten he’d asked. The pink queen smiled wryly. "In fact, this is probably the first year I haven't felt like slapping you for all the rude things you've said.” Her voice went husky, a sure sign that she was feeling emotional. “I’m so proud of you, Branch."

He felt a surge of warmth at her praise and his cheeks hurt as the smile he was trying to contain widened. Made bold by her touch, he held up his large hand and reached toward her, making contact even as she automatically winced in anticipation, scrunching her eyes shut. Then she seemed to realize that he was only cupping her cheek gently and giving her a soft look to make his message clear.

"You neither, huh?" She placed her warm hand over his, closing her eyes and pressing her face more firmly into his hand. She took a deep, slow breath, smiling dreamily, then opened her eyes and pulled his hand away to clasp it once more. "Come on, let's go before someone else spots you." She grinned as she led him away, and he was more than willing to follow.

***

Author’s Note:

Thanks to eva-93 for her timely comment that got me thinking of revising this fic to include a good reason for the other trolls to cooperate. When I first got the idea for this fic I had seen the Holiday special but not TTBGO, so I hadn’t yet seen the Creek Week episode about the trolls’ attitude toward forgiveness.

Speaking of trolls and forgiveness, we know Branch and even Poppy finds it hard to forgive. And while we know Poppy’s friends forgave Creek in TTBGO after a simple apology, we don’t know if all the other trolls did. The majority of the village trolls were only captured due to Creek’s betrayal. Poppy, Branch and the others were spared that experience, of looking up at Creek, sitting on Chef’s shoulder like an evil demon with the same serene smile they’d once admired. Considering how terrified the rest of the villagers all were of the bergens in the first episode of TTBGO, even though they’d danced the whole night with them during the movie, I think it’s reasonable to believe that not all trolls can forgive so easily.

Did you catch the Doctor Who reference? The fourth doctor offers people “jelly-babies”. I couldn’t resist, lol.

[eclecticlion]

Quiet Rebellion

@ainekou happy holidays and a happy new year! I'm your secret santa! I wanted to get this to you a lot earlier so I'm sorry for my personal delay ^^

I saw we both like the ship tododeku and i couldn’t resist writing a soft piece of them being best friends, in a modern au where todoroki is just a young teen trying to get by in his father’s household and midoriya is as supportive as ever

anyway, i hope you like my gift! if you have an AO3 account you can dm it to me and i can gift this to you on that site as well :)

Word Count: 1640

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Todoroki/Midoriya

Sleep wasn’t coming easily to Midoriya, just as he predicted. Though there were a few moments where he would get so lost in his own mind that everything blurred into a clustered cloud. But then he would snap back from whatever haze he was in and all his overwhelming worries would come rushing back like a flood breaking through a dam.

Todoroki had said he would call him whenever he got the chance but that was a few hours ago. Hearing nothing for all that time only let his concerns fester into something worse with each passing minute. Could he not get to his phone for some reason? Was he hurt? What if he was kicked out of the house right then and there and freezing out in the snow? He could be a human icicle right then and Midoriya would be none the wiser.

The thoughts ran faster and faster until he fell into another trance, staring up at his bedroom ceiling and twiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Although this time it was the sound of knocking on his window that brought him back to reality.

He sat up in his bed, glancing cautiously over at the window, thinking maybe he was just hearing things—and then he heard it again, louder and with more emphasis on each knock.

“What in the world…” he muttered, tossing his blanket to the side hastily.

His socked feet thumped on the ground as he got out of bed, squinting and trying to make out what kind of bird could make such strong taps. And then through the frosted glass he was greeted with a familiar face and a casual wave.

“Todoroki?” he whispered harshly before fumbling to unlatch the window and yank it open, cold air washing in.

There were millions of questions he wanted—no, needed—to ask his best friend. But now with that very boy right in front of him, he could only wonder one thing.

“How on earth are you here right now?”

“Fire escape,” Todoroki explained calmly, throwing a brief look down and over his shoulder.

“Well, yes, okay. But I meant more like—hold on, come in, it’s freezing outside.” Motioning for him to step back, Midoriya wedged his window open as wide as it could go, helping Todoroki into his bedroom before shutting it again. “I meant more like… how are you here in general? ”

Todoroki shrugged. “I snuck out and rode my bike.”

“In the middle of the night? In weather like this?”

“I didn’t say it was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Midoriya stared wide-eyed both in awe and bafflement. He knew that Todoroki wasn’t ever really bothered by the cold (or even the heat during the worst days of summer) but this was just crazy. Whatever Todoroki had to tell him about what happened back at his house had to wait just a little longer, he had a seemingly-unaffected-but-still-probably-really-cold boy to warm up.

Firstly he maneuvered Todoroki to his bed, all the while fawning over him; muttering that it was ‘dangerous for him to not wear anything thicker’ and that ‘his hands were cold as ice’ and ‘how are your fingers still attached to your body?’ as he wrapped him up in his all of his blankets. Todoroki opened his mouth to try and reassure him he was fine—but then Midoriya smothered him with a comforter from the closet.

After dragging a space heater up from the living room and whipping up a hot drink in the kitchen (as quietly as he could so he didn’t wake his mom) Midoriya stood beside the bed. He looked over his handiwork, a nest of fabric with Todoroki at its center.

“Warm enough? My mom keeps another blanket on the couch if you want that, too.”

Todoroki eyed the blanket cocoon surrounding him and brought the mug of hot chocolate slowly up to his face. “I think I’m set.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I can—”

“Really, I’m fine.” He motioned with his head to the open space beside him. “Sit down. You’re going to work yourself into a fever trying to keep me warm.”

“Its no trouble, I can just—”

He grabbed for Midoriya’s hand, tugging gently as he said, “I just want you to sit with me.”

Midoriya couldn’t help the heat that rose to his face. “O-okay.” He sat down beside him, glancing at Todoroki’s hand as he let go to continue sipping his drink.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to be so blunt with his words and honestly Midoriya was getting better with containing his reactions whenever something unintentionally embarrassing was said. It wasn’t as if Todoroki meant for his words to carry anything heavier than what it could be taken for a face value, even if Midoriya couldn’t help but read just a little between the lines sometimes. But Todoroki had said on many occasions that he was his best friend and Midoriya definitely felt the same so why ruin something like that by getting his own messier, deeper feelings involved?

“Midoriya?”

For the second time that night, Todoroki pulled him from his thoughts. “I’m sorry, what’d you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to hear about what happened.”

Suddenly Midoriya remembered the situation they were in and sat up straight in attention. “Oh, of course! Sorry, I’m listening.”

Apparently Midoriya didn’t have much to be worrying about because where he was expecting to hear about how Todoroki just escaped the clutches of a furious father, Enji had little reaction to the spectacle that was Todoroki’s new hair style, the resulting hard work from one of Midoriya’s close friends, Uraraka.

“He didn’t…” he trailed off when Todoroki finished, letting the implication hang in the air. Todoroki shook his head, understanding what he was trying to ask.

“No, don’t worry. He hasn’t laid a hand on me or my siblings in years.”

“Good.”

They sat in an easy silence, Midoriya finding at least some comfort in knowing things were actually going to be okay for Todoroki after tonight. For someone like him who would expect the worst no matter how he tried to help it, he was beyond relieved. It wasn’t ever going to be the most ideal situation for Todoroki in his opinion, he knew that, at least not until the day he was old enough to move out.

That sparked a thought for Midoriya and he turned to Todoroki, voice softer than before.

“How’s your mom doing?”

Todoroki smiled softly at the mention of his mother. “She’s doing okay. I visited her last week and she told me—” he chuckled, a rare but lovely occurrence that Midoriya reveled in each time he witnessed it “—she told me this story about her two neighbors. A couple of old …”

And they carried on like that for what felt like hours; talking about their days, funny stories about their classmates and family, and everything in between. It was a school day for both of them tomorrow, but neither of them could care.

Eventually Todoroki unraveled the blankets around himself to share with Midoriya and soon enough after that they were lying side by side, shoulders just touching beneath he many folds of the blankets strewn over them.

Maybe it was the atmosphere of a late winter night with the snowing making the streetlights soft and maybe it was also in knowing hardly anyone would be awake at this hour but Midoriya felt like it was just the two of them in the world. He would later say that was the reason he felt so bold to reach his hand out halfway into the air between the two of them, locking eyes with Todoroki and silently asking for permission. When he got a small nod in response he raised his hand the rest of the way, heart thumping a bit faster, to briefly feel a few strands of bright red hair between his fingertips.

“So, is there a reason you went with these colors?” he asked, his hand falling back into his lap, tingling with a sensation he couldn’t put into words.

“I was just thinking anything obnoxious, really.”

Midoriya chuckled at that. “If that’s the case maybe you should’ve just done a full blown rainbow.”

Todoroki smiled fondly. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Tilting his head this way and that, Midoriya considered Todoroki from all angles. “But you know, this color scheme is actually really fitting.”

With a raised brow Todoroki looked up at his bangs falling just into his line of sight. “You think so?”

“Yeah. It’s cool. I wish I could pull of such a drastic color.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

Midoriya laughed but it lacked the brightness it usually carried. “Yeah, right.”

He glanced at Todoroki and was surprised to see the intense look Todoroki was giving him.

“You’re doing that self-deprecating thing again. Don’t. You could die your hair an electric blue and it’d look great.”

He snorted disbelievingly. “Electric blue, really?”

“Midoriya,” Todoroki pressed, in a voice that was firm but not unkind.

After a moment Midoriya sighed. “Okay, yeah, I would look great with dyed hair.”

Todoroki continued to stare him down and after another moment Midoriya couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, I would look great with electric blue hair.” There was a beat of silence before Midoriya added; “Personally though, I think I would go for like a forest green.”

Todoroki snorted at that and Midoriya beamed knowing he was the one to do that, laughing along quietly with his best friend like they might’ve if they had ever had the chance to have childhood sleepovers. And in that moment, in the confines of that small bedroom in the dead of a wintery night, everything was perfect. If only just for a moment.

[hammyhamimagines]

Fat Fingers part 1: Coffee

Note: I know that I am not that active and I am really sorry about that. I post more regularly on my main account, @hamiltontrashfam, if you’d like something more regular. Also, it will probably be a couple of days before part 2 of this is out, sorry. :/

Word count: 2302

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Warnings: A bit of swearing, I guess. Do not read if you are a Trump supporter.

You had openly been supporting Bernie Sanders since the election began. But, when Hillary turned out to be the candidate for the Democrats, you felt that you had no other choice than to vote for her, as you never wanted Donald Trump near the presidency. You had often discussed this with your parents, as they were unable to understand, how you could possibly hate Donald Trump that much. You never really felt like any of them understood you. And unlike you, they wanted the country to be run by a Republican again and whether that was Trump or someone else, they did not care at all. And because of your family's opinion on politics and your lack of social interactions throughout your childhood and teen years, you did not have a lot of friends who agreed with you either and you felt very alone.

The only distraction from the fact that you had no one's accept or understanding of your political views, were the celebrities and online friends who felt the same way about Trump as you did. You never actually expected to meet anyone who felt the same as you and befriending them, because your family had gained quite the reputation after taking action in several demonstration that were against woman's rights and especially against rights for people of colour and queer people. You thought that no one could possibly feel that your views were any different from your family's. You found comfort in music, especially tracks against the Donald, like the song Fat Fingers by the California based experimental hip hop group clipping.

 You had just picked up your morning coffee from the small coffee shop on the corner of your street in downtown Sacramento and were on your way to work. You walked down the street with music in your ears while you sipped from your coffee. You had to look up when a police car passed by quickly on the street, with the deafening siren and the constant flashing of the red and blue lights on. You were unfocused for a short moment, which made you crash straight into someone's built chest, spilling your coffee all over the guy in front of you and knocking your headphones out in the process. It took a moment for you to gather what had just happened and when you did, you really could not help the embarrassed blush that spread across your cheeks. "Oh, God. I am so sorry. I should have watched out. Are you okay?" You rambled. You did not dare to look at the person in front of you and instead you stared straight at the grey pavement, feeling really embarrassed about spilling your coffee on a stranger.

"Shit. It's okay, man." You heard a very familiar voice answer softly. Your head snapped back up to look at the person in front of you and your mouth hang open slightly at the person in front of you. You knew who this was. Very well, actually. As a matter of fact, you were just listening to one of their songs on your phone. It was Daveed Diggs. Fucking Daveed Diggs. You had just spilled your coffee all over a man that you had developed somewhat of a celebrity crush on since you discovered clipping. when the election started.

Your mouth went dry as a desert for a second and you sort of forgot how to even function. You swallowed and took a moment to gather your thoughts before you answered. "I am so, so sorry. I hope I didn't ruin your shirt Mr. Diggs." You answered, unable to stop yourself from mentioning his name and your eyes grew wide with the realisation. You had just mentioned his name. Not creepy at all.

"Oh. You have an advantage, I see. You don't strike me like a musical kid. So, how do you even know who I am?" He asked curiously.

While it was true that you were not much of a musical kid, you still knew what he was referring to. Practically every person who was the slightest amount of clipping. fan, knew that he had been a member of the cast on the hit musical Hamilton. You had not listened to much of it, but you actually sort of liked the small bits that you had listened to.

"I hate Trump." You blurted. You felt another blush spread across your cheeks, as it did not offer much of a explanation as to how you knew who he was. "I mean.... I listened to Fat Fingers and I agreed with a lot of it and after that I sort of just became a fan of clipping." You added with a nervous chuckle, trying to explain how you knew who he was in a way that actually made sense. At least more than your first explanation did.

"Oh. Me too." He answered with a soft smile. You were very much aware that he did not like Trump and the fact that you had a lot of the same views as him made you really happy, because you thought that he was a pretty amazing human being and if you shared a lot of views, that made you a pretty decent one too, right?

"You don't really strike me as much of a hiphop fan, though?" He asked with an arched eyebrow.

It made you chuckle softly. "Yeah, no. I know....My family is very conservative." You admitted with a soft sigh. You then realised for the second time during the last couple of minutes that you had indeed spilled all of your coffee over him. You were actually about to offer him a new shirt, because there was no way in hell he was getting the coffee stain of off it. However, it seemed like he beat you to it.

"I see.... I am fine, by the way. It was an accident and just as much my fault as yours. How about I buy you a new cup of coffee?" He asked. You were actually sort of surprised that he thought that this was his fault too. You were the one focusing on the police car that drove by after all.

You chewed on your lower lip lightly, not really able to make up your mind. On one hand, you had to get to work. But, you always showed up really early anyway and what could it hurt to let him buy you a cup of coffee? On the other hand; If your family figured it out in anyway, they would probably murder you. You looked at him thoughtfully. "I.... I don't know." You answered honestly and lowered your gaze.

"Oh... I see. Is it because of your family?" He asked, hitting the nail right on the head.

You nodded. "Yeah." It was indeed about your family. Of course it was. It always was. They were always the once that fucked up everything for you. If they ever figured out that you had let a clearly democratic, black rapper buy you coffee, they definitely would not let you in their house ever again. You had discussed this with your parents several times. They even tried to send you to an all- white high school. However, that definitely did not work out.

He looked at you thoughtfully, before a soft sigh escaped his lips. "Right. Okay... No coffee then." He answered. You felt really bad for disappointing him, but you had to think about your relationship with your family after all. "Can I at least have your name?" He asked. It was a pretty simple request, but you still found yourself wondering whether you should tell him or not. Not because you did not want him to know. But, if he figured out just how racist, homophobic and close minded your family was, he probably would regret offering to buy you coffee.

"I am...-" You were about to answer, when of your dad's friend, Garrett pulled up beside you in his car. It felt like you were stuck in the middle of some terrible movie scene. Everyone who knew your family, knew who Daveed was, because you were unable to shut up about him when with your parents and they had obviously told their friends and no one approved of what they called your unhealthy obsession.

"Y/N? What a coincidence! What is a nice girl like you doing talking to a stranger like him?" Garrett asked through the window that he had just rolled down. You felt like a deer in the headlights in a way.  He could have just meant, that you were talking to a stranger and that was it, but you knew Garrett and that was definitely a racist remark. The sticker on his windshield of his car, a man resembling the confederate flag kicking another man resembling the rainbow flag with the lettering 'Trump 2016' made it very clear where this guy stood politically.

"Garrett. I um. I accidentally spilled my coffee on this nice young man's shirt." You shot back. You were already caught talking to someone you apparently should not and you knew that you were already screwed, so you might as well defend Daveed.

"Nice? Okay. Aren't you late for work young lady? I can drop you off at the office, if you'd like." The thing about dropping you off at the office might have sounded like an offer, but that was definitely not the case. You knew that you had to obey, because otherwise you would get even more shit from your family and that you definitely did not want.

"I am really sorry about this asshole, Daveed. I am Y/N. I hope that I get to take you up on that coffee some day." You finally decided to say, though not loud enough for Garrett to actually hear. While you hated the guy, you definitely did not want to get on his bad side. He could make your life hell after all and you really do not have any intention of letting him do so.

"I should go." Daveed answered, obviously completely disgusted. You had thought that it had been with you at the time, even if it had not. You had no chance to say anything, before he left and you could feel your mood fall even more. Another thing your family had managed to fuck up, again.  Your gaze followed him shortly, before you got into Garrett's car hesitantly, as he had told you to.

You knew that he was about to comment on what had just happened, so you simply held your hand up to cut him off. "Just go, Garrett." You sighed. You did not want to hear any of his disapproving and racist comments. You just wanted to get away from him as fast as possible.

On your way to the office, you passed Daveed in his coffee soaked Oakland hoodie and you felt really bad for not being able to make it up to him. You could practically feel the tears beginning to sting your eyes. Your family always managed to fuck up your every attempt to meet someone who had the same views as you. It was like they followed you day and night to make sure that you felt isolated and alone.

Once the car came to a stop outside your office, you did not even bother to thank Garrett for dropping you off, because he honestly did not do you a favour at all. You did not say goodbye either, instead you just left without a word. You knew that you had to make it up to Daveed somehow, you just had no idea how. It was not like you knew him at all. But, you felt like you had to apologize on behalf of your racist, homofobic, Trump supporting family, even if it really had nothing to do with you.

You spent the rest of the day knee deep in work, yet your mind kept wondering back to your run-in with Daveed earlier that day. It was on your mind pretty much all the time, inevitably distracting you from your work. You just felt so bad. Now that you had finally met someone who shared your views, you had to fuck it up. Not really you, but your family, but you somehow got into your head, that it was you who Daveed was mad at and not the racist asshole who had picked you up after you spilled your coffee all over him.

Nearing the end of your shift, you were feeling even more defeated than when you arrived. You wanted badly to contact Daveed somehow, but you thought that it was perhaps not th smartest idea after the incident earlier. You sat there, your head pounding from all the thinking you had done during the day and perhaps from your lack of morning coffee, when someone placed a soft hand on your shoulder. "Miss Y/LN. I have noticed that you have been very distant today. Are you alright?" Your boss asked.

You knew that he did not care at all, but you nodded half heartedly. "Yes, I am quite alright, sir." You managed as you gathered your things to leave. You were really not okay though, but you managed to hide it pretty well.

"Well, I want you to focus tomorrow, okay? We have an important meeting coming up." He said sharply. You knew that you had fucked up today, both with Daveed and your job. But, luckily you could actually do something about the later.

"Of course." You simply stated, as you got up from your office chair, stretching lightly from sitting down during most of the day. Then, you left without another word, just wanting to go home and go to bed early to forget everything about what had just happened.