#this originally started silly and then became. devastating as well

[ofpd]

video description: a video edit of the 1972 miniseries adaptation of les misérables. it focuses on éponine and her relationship with marius, and is set to “you belong with me” by taylor swift. end description.

why can't you see!! || a birthday gift for @jondrettegirls <3

[nichoskittycorner]

Shooting your shot (An Euijoo smut)

>> perv!Euijoo, stalking,( Is he considered a yandere?), praise kink, pet names, oral sex, sub!Euijoo, Euijoo embodies the "Don't bully me, I'll cum" meme (aka degradation), overstimulation, multiple orgasms 

>> Synopsis: You never noticed him- but he always noticed you. And even though it scares him, he's going to try to prove his love to you. But things take a very drastic turn very quickly when he gets that chance 

>> Word count: 5.1k

A/N: I had a lot of mental back and forth with this one and ended up saying screw it- it's a bit long so sorry about that-  and now theres a part two- which can be found here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Euijoo didn't think he would be the type to fall in love. Especially not this hard. How hard you may wonder? Well to the point that he's followed you from every class you had on campus, had lunch watching you, watched you at your job, and is now following you home.

  It wasn't this bad at first, it was never meant to get this bad. At first, he thought it was a little crush. You passed by with your friends many years ago and he was instantly enchanted by you. Everything from your beauty, your smile, even the faint scent of your perfume as you passed by. 

  You both were in high school then, so of course he chalked it up to a silly crush and would move on, right? Well, that night he went home and looked you up on just about every platform he could think of and asked around about you. 

  Once he got your name, he etched it into every note keeper he had. Planners, journals, his phone, everywhere. He never wanted to forget a name so beautiful.

  And when you followed him back on social media, he jumped for joy. Taking screenshots and printing them out- they still hang on the walls in his room. 

  Little things started to snowball into worse things. Watching you from a distance turned into learning what perfume you used when even you didn't remember the name. Holding the door for you became him learning your locker combination and studying your house keys to replicate( Although he never did use those-). 

  Helping you carry bags turned into keeping every piece of trash you tossed away that he could get his hands on. He spiraled so fast, he didn't even realize it. 

  The only somewhat good thing that came from trying to be noticed was his academic improvement. He wanted you to notice him so badly. Sports wasn't his thing, he wasn't brave enough to start a conversation and any friendly gesture seemed to be thanked like a random kind act. 

  So something Euijoo could do was study harder. Between watching you and daydreaming about you, he pushed himself into Valedictorian status seemingly overnight. Becoming the 'smart kid' on campus. You had to notice him then! 

  But by the time graduation hit, all he got was a "congratulations Euijoo!" and that was it. It would have devastated him completely, all that work for nothing. But you did know his name, and that made him happy. His only regret was that he didn't record it to listen to you saying his name every day. 

  So university was the logical next step. And with his high grades, he could get into just about any one he wanted to. No surprise it was the same one you started attending. 

  And although he had his own schedule to keep, every moment he was free, was dedicated to you. 

  Maybe to the point that he started to act even worse than he originally thought. You had attended a party with some friends and your guardian angel (Euijoo) had been watching in the wings. 

  Standing not too far away but close enough that he could still hear you without being noticed. Taking fake sips of his drink to blend into the crowd. 

  People had tried flirting or dating you before. But for some reason, it never worked out. They would always turn tail and leave before anything could happen. Was there something wrong with you? 

  No. You didn't notice it but Euijoo was the one chasing them off. When guys would approach you at parties, he would manage to corner them and threaten them out of talking to you or pay them off. 

  At this party, a man you clearly didn't know wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Euijoo could tell in an instant with the way you shrunk away from his embrace that you were uncomfortable. 

  It took everything in him not to go over there and pull on that man's hair, dragging him down to the ground and beating him within an inch of his life. 

  To dig his fingers in deep enough to make the man's scalp bleed, listening to him scream. The sound made his own blood rush. Would he decide to choke him, slowly taking the air out of him? 

 Possibly drag a knife into his skin all over his body, alternating between shallow and deep cuts until he died. Leaving a love letter to you in his skin so you would know who did this, who protected and loved you- 

  Euijoo's dark thoughts were cut off suddenly. He noticed you move quickly away from the stranger, looking around for a way to escape. And like a miracle, you both made eye contact. 

  A warm feeling blossomed throughout his chest at that moment. But he didn't have a chance to indulge and savor the moment. You quickly made a beeline for him, putting yourself under his arm and giggling. 

  This couldn't be real- you were touching him. You, his angel, his long-awaited love, were finally noticing him and touching him.

  "Hey baby! There you are, I was wondering where you went!" Your eyes filled with a bit of panic as you looked at him. Silently pleading he would play along and get you out of this situation. 

  This was his chance, all these years in the making! He couldn't mess this up! Holding you tightly, he rubbed his fingers against your arm to comfort you- and himself. He still wasn't believing this was real. You fit so perfectly under his arm. You were so warm and just perfect. 

  "Yeah, I'm right here angel. I didn't want to bother you and your friends. Is something wrong?" His first words to you in years! Well, that wasn't 'thank you'. 

  Euijoo could still see the strange man lingering nearby. His usually soft and sweet eyes shot deadly daggers at this man. Like his soul evaporated away and left a demonic shell in its place. 

  He could see the man stagger. Seeming to try to put words together but scared and drunk- he just hobbled off like a dog with his tail between his legs. 

  Without a moment to spare, Euijoo turned to you, his sweet and reassuring smile back in an instant. You relaxed upon seeing it, sighing in relief. 

  "Thank you Euijoo. I was getting worried about that creep." Euijoo, Thank you Euijoo- You said his name again! Oh dear, he wanted to bounce off the walls and cherish this moment, he had to stay calm. 

  "N-no problem Y/n- Are you alright?" His tongue felt heavy but he had to speak. If he just stared, it would freak you out more. He was your prince, your hero, he had to be perfect for you. 

  You looked around the room with a slightly nervous glance before giving him a nod. "I think so. I am a bit unnerved though." 

  "Do you want to go home? I'll walk you back!" He almost bit his tongue- he couldn't come off too strong or desperate. So it surprised him when you nodded slowly. "Y-yeah, parties aren't really my thing anyway." 

–-------------

  Euijoo was more than happy to whisk you away. The two of you walked back to your apartment in mostly silence. To Euijoo, he was in heaven. Just the two of you, walking together in the quiet night. His arm still resting on your shoulder, his nose sniffing at your hair. Engulfing himself in the scent of your shampoo. 

   You couldn't tell what you were feeling. Euijoo was someone you had known for years so that brought you comfort. But you were never close. He was nice and one of the top students but that's pretty much all you knew. 

  But you did appreciate that he hadn't tried to kidnap you or something. The least you could do was try to speak- 

  "So Euijoo, how's life treating you? We went to high school together if you remember-" 

  He smiled and nodded. "Yes, we did! And I've been well, thank you for asking. How are you?" 

  A little conversation stirred up from there. Talking about after high school, work, family, all sorts of things. Euijoo purposely left out the details of all time he spent watching you or that he had known everything you mentioned- and more. 

   It was like talking to an old friend. There was something comforting in his presence. "So, have you had any relationships? Any girlfriends?" You teased, nudging him slightly. 

  While your laugh was beautiful, your words caused his jaw to stiffen. He wanted to go on a rant, but it was better to hold his tongue- A girlfriend?! No! The only girl for me is you! I would never touch another girl, because I am yours alone, just as you are mine. I was made for you and I would never break your heart like that! 

  "No, no girlfriends, guess I just don't have any luck haha!" He laughed it off making you gasp. "No luck? But you're great from what I know- unless you're secretly crazy or something." 

  Somehow you were unknowingly making this worse. Euijoo wasn't crazy, he was in love. 

  As you approached your apartment you could sense Euijoo getting nervous. Maybe he had something he wanted to say or was just tired. 

  "So um, do you wanna come in for a bit? Maybe get something to drink for my hero?" 

  This night was only getting better for him. He accepted your offer as you opened the door. 

  Your apartment was even prettier from the inside. Decorated with memorabilia from your life and little hints of your hobbies. It even smelled like you faintly. Lord only knows how badly his body and mind were reacting to all of this. 

  Both the pure and wholesome thoughts- thinking of your day-to-day life. You doing chores, singing to no one, or dancing around.

   Even if he was there with you- all the hugs and kisses he would give you all day. Holding you, cooking for you, laying his head in your lap as you played with his hair. But his mind quickly started to drift to dirtier places. 

  Thinking of making love and bringing you pleasure all over this place. In the bedroom, in the kitchen, on the couch, tables, the bathroom- everywhere. Even the thought that you had touched the surfaces he was now touching had him heating up. 

  Euijoo must have blanked out, because the next thing he knew, you placed a cup of hot cocoa before him. "Ta-da! I hope you like it. I'm gonna go shower so you enjoy." 

  It surprised him. Had it been any other man, you would've been more cautious. But it seemed your childhood connection lowered your guard. He was grateful. 

  Euijoo tried to focus on the drink you offered him as he heard the shower water turn on. His mind was already racing with the images of your body as you showered peacefully. 

  He bit his lip harshly to try to make the idea go away. But the distant pit-pat of the water only egged him on. He never would peek in on you showering. 

  Instead, his feet took him elsewhere- into your room. It was glorious. Like the main space but smaller and so much more intimate. 

  Euijoo was honestly conflicted. Did he stay and indulge in this Heaven, or should he leave and stop this privacy invasion? 

  It stopped being a question as his fingers dragged along the furniture. Tracing what he had only seen from a distance, into a tangible reality. 

  He was shaking and bursting at the seams. He wanted to roll around on your bed, smell your clothes, read your journals- he was just ready to drown in the essence of you all around. 

  As he was lost in his head, he almost lost his balance as a sudden dip off the desk came from nowhere. Looking down, he found something he never thought he would. The dirty clothes hamper. 

  This, oh this was too much. The thought of rolling around and smothering himself in your dirty, sweat-filled clothing had racked his mind for years. Bringing up the most perverted thoughts and feelings in him. 

  He shouldn't feel this way. He needed to leave immediately. But the sound of the shower water still running filled him with a new sense of excitement. If you were still busy, he would have time…

  Digging into the hamper, he found exactly what he was looking for. A part of Euijoo was quivering at this. Shouldn't he feel bad about this? Invading the most private places of yours. 

  But he felt like he earned this. Years of doing things for you, watching you, protecting and loving you- it was all rationalized to him. And it only melted him more as he buried his nose in your dirty panties and sniffed deeply. 

  The scent had him letting out a long moan. It was the best thing he had ever experienced. As if you had embraced him in such a deep and intimate way. He couldn't stop the drool that threatened to trickle down as he felt himself harden in his pants.

 He had to have more. Getting lost in the soiled fabric, any sense of shame had melted away. Rubbing his face into the panties as little whimpers left him. 

  Anyone would think he was crazy or pathetic by this display. Especially as his hand desperately reached down and undid his belt. He had to get some relief for his strained member. 

  His breaths became shaky as he released his cock from his boxers, sighing in relief as the cool air touched it. It proved barely helpful. It all happened so fast. 

  One minute he's just sniffing dirty panties and now he's jerking off and rutting into his hand as he continues to bury his face into the fabric. 

  He was close, so close and he knew it. How pathetic of him. He could barely control himself as he stroked himself faster, his cares fading away. 

  Just as he felt his orgasm about to hit, a loud gasp cut him off. He turned and saw you- watching him with horror all over your face. Wet hair and a towel gripped tightly around yourself. 

  And yet, being caught didn't stop it from coming- if anything, it only made his orgasm more intense. His body shook as strings of cum shot out into his hand. His face flushed and his eyes glossed over. 

  "W-what- Euijoo what are you doing here?" He had no answer. Only noticed that you reached for the door handle. 

  "W-wait! Y/n wait I can explain!" Without another thought, he wiped his hand on his pants and tossed the panties to the side. His large frame corners you by the door.

  But he didn't seem to be trying to scare you, instead, he seemed desperate. Falling to his knees as his eyes watered and he pleaded for you to listen. 

  "Okay! Okay! But you better have a fucking good reason for all this!" You couldn't believe this is what you were doing. He was clearly crazy or unwell and yet you didn't want to believe it. 

  The sweet Euijoo that came to your rescue, the valedictorian, the kind familiar face- there was no way he was in your bedroom, doing something so… perverted. 

  He lit up with that sweet and pure smile you had come to familiarize yourself with. Pointing to the bed, he seemed to understand and sat there, waiting patiently. 

  It reminded you of a dog obeying commands but you shook that thought. Digging through your dressers, you pulled out a large shirt and the taser you always keep in there for safekeeping. Stepping into your closet, you changed into the shirt and joined him. You decided not to bother with underwear in case you riled him up again with the thought. 

  As you sat down on the other side of the bed, you hid your weapon just within arm's reach and beckoned him to speak. 

  Suddenly you noticed his change in demeanor. He was neither sweet nor perverted here. He looked shy. His head lowered, eyes avoiding you, playing with his thumbs. 

  He seemed to debate heavily about what to say first. Starting and stopping repeatedly. A part of you wanted to give him his time to think but also you wanted answers. 

  "Will you hurry up already? I really don't have all night for this." It can out snappier than you planned but it caught his attention. A blush spread onto his face. Almost like instinct he had rushed to your side and was on his knees before you. 

  "Y/n I… I don’t know where to start… I never wanted you to see me like this but in some twisted way, I did." What- what in the world could that mean?! 

  "Go on then. Explain." You noticed he flinched a bit before continuing. "I… I've been in love with you since the day I met you. Every waking thought and idea was consumed by you and how I could get you to see me, to love me too-" 

  Oh… oh so he was stalking you or crazy. As he continued his insane love confession your feelings fluctuated from pity, to fear to even something you couldn't explain. Were you turned on by this?! 

  By the end of his rant, he was breathing heavily, and almost teary. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just wanted a chance to prove my love to you and I got carried away. I'd do anything, anything for you Y/n!" 

  "Wow… wow I don't know what to say. Euijoo this is so new. This is so weird." 

  A little whimper left his lips. Pushing his head against your bare leg. Oh no, he was pulling at your heartstrings. Any other man could try this and would instantly get kicked out. 

  "Okay! Okay fine! I'll let you prove yourself, but no putting your dick in me." Euijoo beamed a smile and nodded. "I promise I won't, I'll stop when you say so! No questions asked!" 

  You couldn't help but crack a smile. Euijoo's large hands rested on your thighs, pushing your legs open. His hands were warm and the cold air touching your core had you shivering. 

  Euijoo almost froze, this was perfect. Somehow you were giving him a chance despite the freaky situation. 

  Pushing your shirt up a bit, he was grateful for the lack of underwear. His eyes greeted with your beautiful folds, much more heavenly than he could've ever imagined. 

  After staring for a moment and drinking in the sight, he leaned in. His tongue touches your clit first. You both jumped in surprise but he quickly recovered. Taking his place on your pussy and starting to eat you out. 

  But after a few minutes, you couldn't help but feel off. Something was uncomfortable with whatever he was doing but you couldn't pinpoint what. It wasn't until he bit down a little too hard did you snap. 

  Your hand shot out and gripped his hair. Pulling back harshly to detach him from you. It was honestly surprising to hear a moan leave his lips when you did so but that could wait. 

  "What are you doing? Do you actually know what you're doing down there?" 

  Euijoo was confused but yet still feeling turned on by your grip and the demeaning look in your eyes. 

  "I-I thought girls liked that?" 

  You sighed. "Where did you hear that from, a porno?" 

  His face blushed all the way up to his ears. Of course, he did. Based on his confession, he had never actually been intimate before, only living in his fantasies. 

  "Euijoo, you can't take that as real advice." 

  "I-I can't? I thought it's where everyone learned…" Somehow he was adorable like this. So eager and yet, so clueless. 

  "Sure it is. If you're stupid. Are you a stupid boy Euijoo?" 

  His voice caught in his throat. He didn't know what to say. Was he… stupid? After all this, was he stupid? 

  "Answer me Euijoo. Are you?" You honestly thought he would deny it, maybe citing his academic achievements to counter your petty insult. But instead, he let out a whimper of a 'yes.'

  "Y-yes I'm stupid. I'm so stupid. Please, teach me how to make you happy. How to please you- I'll do anything." 

  Something in you stirred. Was it his pleading eyes? His pathetic whimpers? His beautiful lips and the pout on them? You didn't know why but you were even surprised when you pulled him into you, smashing your lips together. 

  It was quite intense for a first kiss but it didn't matter. Your lips moved along his feverishly, only for him to respond just as eagerly. The two of you break away with swollen lips and heavy breaths. 

  "Fine, I'll teach you. But you listen to everything I say." 

  It wasn't a question. It was a command. And Euijoo was more than happy to obey. 

  You didn't wait for him to reply, instead spreading your legs a little wider and shoving his face into your pussy. Putting one of your legs over his shoulders, your hand never letting go of his hair. 

   "Now, you're going to be gentle. You're smart enough to figure out gentle, right?" Euijoo let out a feeble moan in response with a nod. 

  "Good. Now, lick." He seemed hesitant at first but he followed your instructions, his tongue poking out shyly before making contact with your folds. 

  Soft kitten licks brushed against your wet pussy. His nose brushed on your clit causing a chill to course through you. Even though you told him to be gentle, you couldn't help but want to grind your core against his face to get more pleasure. 

  But if you could take it slow, and actually teach him, this could be a long-term relationship of some kind. He already worshiped you, giving him an inside look at how to pleasure you would just benefit you both. Might as well make the best of this crazy situation. 

  Your grip on his hair tightened, making him moan. Pushing yourself closer to his face. "Okay- okay, you can lick a little more, especially on my clit, but don't bite." 

  Guiding him step by step was both a chore and yet exhilarating. Every time you spoke, he held onto your words and put them into practice. 

  Soon, he had gone from barely touching you to expertly playing with your soaking and twitching pussy as his fingers thrust inside of you. Your hips started grinding harshly against his face, spreading your juices on his face. 

  "Fuck, aren't you a good boy Euijoo? Doing exactly as I say, mhh, you make me feel so good." He couldn't speak but the hum against your pussy let you know he was happy with your praise. 

  Your free hand snaked up your shirt, playing with your nipples as you got closer to your orgasm. 

  You let yourself get lost in the rush, bucking your hips more to get closer before coming completely undone. Moaning and gasping as your orgasm came over you. Continuing to ride his face until your body had settled. 

  "T-that's enough Euijoo- go ahead and clean me up baby." Euijoo licked up your juices eagerly, removing his fingers as you let go of his hair. Patting his hair as you come back down from your high. 

  When you felt it was enough, you rested a hand under his chin, making him look up at you. His eyes were sparkling like he had an otherworldly experience. His face still messy and his lips were swollen. 

  "Heh, you're so cute Euijoo. Such a good boy for me aren't you?" 

  "Yes! I'll always be a good boy for you!" You leaned down and kissed him once again. The contact seemed to light him up inside. 

  Well, although you had found him in a compromising position earlier, and he did cum from it- you thought he was deserving of another one. 

   You kissed him again before guiding him onto the bed. Pushing him to lay back and started to pull at his pants. 

  Euijoo felt like he was on fire. Everything was happening so fast. Not only did you touch him, you kissed him, pulled his hair, made him hard, taught him how to eat you out and how wherever this was going. 

  You, his love, his angel, his everything. You were making his wildest dreams come true. Suddenly, all those years of watching and waiting were worth it. 

  His goofy smile remained as you pulled his pants off. Not realizing you had noticed his happy high. Feeling a bit mischievous, you grabbed his hard dick with a firm grip. Making him jump and open his eyes wide. 

  You only let out an innocent giggle as you squeezed a little harder, getting a yelp out of him. "Oh, that's such a pretty noise Euijoo. I wonder how much prettier you'll be when you're fucked stupid." 

   Wasting no more time, you took your hand and spit on it, grabbing his cock and starting to stroke him again. Moving your hand quickly from base to tip, brushing your thumb over his slit, and repeating the process. 

  Euijoo was quickly turned into a gasping and shaking mess. Stuck between wanting to close his eyes and keep them open to watch you. 

  His hips bucked and twitched and you loved the sight of it, soft moans and high gasps leaving his mouth. Watching him fall apart so easily in your hands was pleasing to you. This insane man was nothing but a shy, horny, and admittedly determined man. 

  It didn't take long before he came undone, cumming into your hands. Shaking and breathing heavily. But you weren't finished. You were nowhere near finished with him. 

  Before he could come down completely, your mouth had latched onto the tip of his cock. Taking him into your mouth without a second thought. 

  Licking up his cum from your hand before taking him back into your mouth. Euijoo yelped and whimpered as you worked. He was already sensitive and yet only wanted more. 

  Drowning in the sounds of your mouth, the movement of your tongue, the tightness of your throat. It was all so much. Maybe getting to be too much. 

  Sure he already felt another knot building in his stomach, but he was unable to keep his eyes open, shutting them tightly to stop the tears that wanted to fall. 

  Not quite sure if they were of pain or pleasure but he started to sob and shake as he came again. His cock sprayed almost recklessly and added to the mess as you pulled back. 

  You continued to stroke him but at a much slower pace. Euijoo couldn't think, his body only responding with shivers and mewls. 

  "How are you Euijoo? Do you feel good? Can you cum again? Hm? Just one more for me." You kissed the tears that had run down his face. He nodded. Yes, yes, anything for you Y/n.   

  "Good boy. Tap me if it's too much." And with that, you went back to his cock. Kissing along his belt line, moving to underneath his member, kissing and sucking lightly from base to tip. 

  His legs jerked and his little sounds turned to full-on cries of pleasure. Gasping, moaning, and borderline sobbing and you took him into your mouth once again.

  His back arched and his fingers buried themselves in your sheets. Trying to ground himself in any way. Thrusting his hips up desperately as he chased his high. 

  You wouldn't admit it in any situation but you loved this. This beautiful man, crying, begging, and trying to fuck your mouth to cum one more time, all because you asked him to. He was wrapped around your finger and you didn't even have to try that hard. 

  His head was thrown back, gasping heavily as you could hear him pleading through his tears. "Please, please, mhh, wanna cum please!"

  Just his words and the taste of him were enough for you. More than enough for you. Removing your mouth, you continued to stroke him at a furious pace. 

  "My sweet stupid boy Euijoo. Do you wanna cum? Is that what you want? Want to make me happy?" 

  He only nodded furiously, his body barely staying up as he cried out more pleas but they jumbled together into a tearful and whimper-filled rant. 

  "Go ahead baby, you earned it." With a couple of more strokes, he exploded. Another orgasm rippled through him. Hot strings of cum shot out of his tortured cock, tears ran down his cheeks and his vision became full of stars. 

  Your name fell from his lips on repeat as he came down. His sweet droopy lips and all the lewd words and sounds that came from them were music to your ears.

  A smile stretched onto your lips as you took his hand, stroking your thumb along it to comfort him. He looked so beautiful. His mind clearly fucked out as cum covered his cock, legs, stomach, and your bed sheets. 

  Face flushed, eyes shut, and breathing heavily. You placed kisses along his cheeks, neck, and even on his lips as you praised him. "Good boy Euijoo. You did so well! I'm so proud of you!" 

  You comforted him with your words as you cleaned him up with your earlier discarded towel. Scooting up next to him, you held onto him, cradling him in your chest. 

  Placing kisses on his forehead as you kissed his tears and petted his hair. Whispering praises as he came back to normal. When his arms wrapped around you, you couldn't help but chuckle. 

  How did you go from learning you had a stalker, a yandere possibly, to having him curled up in your arms as you whispered sweet words into his ear…

  What did that mean for the two of you now? Who knew? But you were sure you heard him whisper "thank you" and "I love you Y/n" as he drifted off to sleep. 

  It warmed your heart in a way. Regardless of where you guys ended up, you would cherish this crazy little guy for now.

[swearyshera]

So we are at the end of the road on something that has always been about the journey, not the destination.  I’ve taken my time to gather some thoughts.  This blog has meant a lot to many people, not the least of which is me.  I’ve had a hard time these last few years – I think it’s been hard times for everyone, in one way or another.  Personally, I seem to remember discovering this blog not too long before I had a breakdown and handled it very poorly, making bad decisions that cost me a lot of friends, or at least people whom I thought were my friends up until a breaking point.  (Your blog was unrelated to this).  When I came out of hospitalization I had a few things to rely upon – a video therapy group was one, certain family members and, well, as silly as it sounds, hitting up tumblr for my daily dose of Sweary She-Ra to make me laugh. And then in mid-January, 2023, one of the people who was closest to me in my entire life died suddenly of technically unknown cause but considering his health issues, probably a heart-issue. It was sudden and devastating.  We shared She-Ra and the Princesses of Power together because he was kind of curious about it and I was a nostalgia-fan of the ‘80s series.  We both became massive fans of Entrapta.  In fact, my nephew / best friend got me into the fandom in the first place because he had a silly idea for a fanfic about Entrapta wrecking havoc in the Fright Zone just post first-season and had little confidence in his fanfic writing, but decided to pass along said idea to me, an inveterate fic-writer for many fandoms.  I was put through the wringer this year – it’s the first time I’ve been in partial charge of a memorial service.  I am feeling better now than I did at the beginning of this year because I’ve found the strength to keep doing things that he and I liked to do together and time helps.  And again, in all of this, I had a silly little comic where a sparkly purple princess calls people “twattingler,” others make liberal use of the word that originally meant Fornication Under Consent of the King, one character swears all the time but apologizes for it, one character is contractually obligated to use Ned Flanders style cursing and there’s a fourth wall breaker and an incompetent boss with indecipherable accent and Marxist unicorns and all the rest.  No matter what was happening with my emotions I could just… take a little break and look at the funny fancomic.  Sweary She-Ra for me has been like a warm mug of tea on a cold day or a bowl of baked macaroni and cheese with a butter-cracker crust made out of the old 1960-70 something Betty Crocker cookbook.  It’s been Internet comfort food that has been sorely needed at times.  So thank you.  I just want to thank you for this funny little fan project.  I don’t think you have any idea how much it has meant to your audience.  @freedfromthegalactichivemind

And I don't know if the audience has any idea how much it has meant to me!

When I started this, things were pretty shit, weren't they? Here in the UK we'd just come out of the second Covid Lockdown, with the third expected to happen imminently; the weather was miserable, we'd barely seen our friends in months, the world in general just sucked. And I'd love to say that I felt a calling to break through that with some humour, but no... it was nothing like that. This is what happened...

And so it all went from there.

I almost just went for random scenes as I thought of them, rather than starting from the beginning. But I thought "Eh, fuck it, let's see how far I get", and the rest is history.

Even as the storylines got more complex (bear in mind, I started purely with the intention to do the original script with a few swear words peppered in), I always wanted to keep things upbeat. The painful moments are those 'this is the good stuff, hurt me more' moments rather than actually horrifying things - I know there's been a couple of exceptions, but in general it's held true.

But I've always been driven by one thing - the world isn't very funny right now; it's stressful, sometimes downright terrifying. And if I can alleviate that for ten, twenty seconds per day and make that tiny bit of difference to someone, then I consider that a job done. I'm not out here claiming to have the cure for depression, or some kind of plan to save the world, but I (hopefully) can make a few people smile in the midst of all the shit that's happening, even if it's just for a moment.

So much has changed in the last three years, but this blog has been such a central part of my world, it'll be weird when it's over (maybe that's why I don't want to stop there!). But if this coming Friday really is the last chapter in this part of my life, I'll still be happy that it happened. And if you've ever smiled or laughed at the blog, I'm happy that happened as well.

[stormbreaker101]

As per your recent bingo, I am asking about Maulwurf. He's a silly little guy and I hope musicology becomes something we can be taught in the future.

HI. YES. OKAY. SO. WARNING. THIS POST IS RAMBLY. MAULWURF IS MY BOINKY AND MY CHEW TOY. I HAVE BEEN VERY MEAN TO HIM. I LOVE HIM.

putting all my rambles under a readmore to spare the people.

First things first, my interpretation of Maulwurf has veered somewhat off from canon. This is because I started writing my AU Corrupted Spiral before Maulwurf was introduced, and so the scene has changed significantly and some aspects of Maulwurf's story changed with it.

Some completely original background for the guy: his father's side of the family had been involved with the Schismists for generations, and so it simply made SENSE for Maulwurf to follow his father's lead. Maulwurf's father also died when Maulwurf was young, which only pushed Maulwurf further into the Schismists because having the Old One as a father figure is totally not going to devastate his moral compass and emotional wellbeing in the long run, right? RIGHT? Under the Old One's teaching, Maulwurf became a brilliant musicologist and businessman. Creative, analytical, but loyal.

fast forward to the main time period of my AU. It's post Arc 3, but Arc 4 never happens properly because the Scion had what I officially call the Calamity (bc she's a storm wizard who isn't named Calamity herself but i had to get that name in somewhere) and unofficially call a divine meltdown/temper tantrum. Basically, she fucked up bigtime and now magic is running haywire, harming entire worlds (the why doesn't matter here). She also decided to LEAVE the Spiral for a time, so sorry fellas! No Savior figure no more!

Karamelle's taste of the Calamity is torrential storms that threaten to flood and dissolve the entire world. The Old One had been hoping to host his Summit with the Scion like in canon so he could get back to the Arcanum and his pet project Lemuria, but with the Scion going AWOL, that ISN'T a possibility anymore. So he sent loyal loyal Maulwurf to the Arcanum as a spy. The cover story was for Maulwurf to ask for aid fixing the Calamity.

Maulwurf ended up staying in the Arcanum for well over a year. And though he spied on the Arcanum, he also.... became genuine friends with the Arcanum folk. And he saw their consistent determination to save the present Spiral, rather than be complicit in its fate and destruction.

uh oh. smells like traitorhood.

ultimately, Maulwurf is a man who believes in the joys of existence and creation, be it music or magic or food or crafts. He'll create a tune, try to create something more with it, have it explode in his face, and laugh it off. For an explosion requires someTHING to explode, ja?

And the Arcanum were being better co-creators than the Old One and whatever remained of the Schismists were. And the Arcanum fought for existence, while the Schismists promised an eventual destruction of the Spiral and that said destruction is okay.

uh oh. smells like traitorhood.

Of course, it's hard to turn your back on the man who acted as your primary father figure for the majority of your life. But not impossible.

Maulwurf does eventually cut his loyalty to the Old One, and it is one HELL of an emotional Moment for him. However, he still hasn't told anybody but Stallion (yes Stallion happened to get out of the ice despite Arc 4 not happening normally. that's a WHOLE other loredump post) about his history and ties as a Schismist.

oh speaking of ties Maulwurf has to the Schismists. Maulwurf replaced the feather in his cap with a feather from Quake Charmer. They had been buddies. QC is dead now. That's just a small detail headcanon.

GODDDD THERE IS SO MUCH MORE I CAN SAY. All of this stuff doesn't even begin to really touch upon the kind of character he's become in the writing I've done with @klaraflamez. AND BELIEVE ME. HE'S. HE'S. I cant even fucking word right now lmao.

Ultimately, I try to keep Maulwurf someone who holds hopeful even with all the strain he had undergone. His loyalties and connections pull him one way, but he pushes the other way, determined for a brighter existent future. A man of whimsy and creation and depth.

Or in other words, I used to have this Maulwurf-

[imaginarylungfish]

my ex introduced me to jjk. it was the last good piece of themselves they gave to me.

eventually, it became mine.

jjk got me through the breakup and subsequent processing of trauma my ex left in their wake. as silly as it sounds, gojo/geto's relationship reminded me of me and my ex. i kinned as gojo, slotting my ex into the role of geto, someone once so close to me who hurt me in ways no one else could.

i've since let go of that kinship. the parallels didn't stick. unlike gojo, i won't forgive my ex. i don't love them. i don't want to see them again (even in airport heaven thankyouverymuch). they did not understand me most in this world. they just made me feel that way in order to manipulate me.

but even if one of the original reasons i got into jjk is gone (thank god), that doesn't mean the connection to the story is. in fact, with more time to see it without those original lenses, the more i am able to appreciate it as a beautiful story in its own right.

i will forever love jjk (even though the second half left much to be desired). it was always a manga about darkness and hope, even though those are contradictory things. but that's exactly what drew me in and kept me reading. the devastation and hurt in the story, it was only there because there was once love. it came from wanting to protect something and create a better future, yet things failing. it came from the desire to not let the world slip into a cursed oblivion. and there were silly-goofies!

light among darkness was not only a theme in the anime/manga, it's a theme of life.

the start of 2023 (when i got into jjk) was bleak for me. i was deeply hurting. yet i also started a new job teaching environmental ed to elementary school kids. that's when i realized that even though so much darkness exists, at least i can be some light for these kids, for my coworkers, for my friends. and that light would compound. that was healing.

(if you don't understand my deep love for gojo's character at this point, the plot has been lost on you. no offense. we are just different people. which is fine!)

i am no longer a child, i don't believe in god nor fate nor karma. i don't think you're rewarded by the universe if you're good or punished if you're bad. i think things just happen.

i didn't deserve the bad things that happened to me. neither did you. but they happened anyway. what am i supposed to do with that?

well, i'm gonna keep believing in goodness. in people. in what humanity can do (not the universe, not god). i will create a good life. i will love and be loved. i will protect the innocent. i will shoulder burdens for others. i will let others do the same for me.

it seems silly to relate such deep parts of my life to a manga, but it makes sense too. gege created something from their own mind. they shared of piece of themselves with us all. some of us found connection, some of us didn't. that's okay.

the cycle (*cough* sukuna *cough*) will repeat. darkness will rear its ugly head over and over again. the question is, will you fight with your inner light, or will you let it overcome you?

[dxsole]

It wasn't foolproof, she knew, but 85 trusted numbers. Facts. And statistically...it's better. Not by much, but enough for her to feel like she has a semblance of safety.

"Hm." It's a vague reply, somewhere between she understood their concern and yet didn't know how else to proceed. 85 feels like her time alone has somewhat degraded her social skills and she isn't quite sure how she's going to repair it. Does she need to? Could it not, in fact, be beneficial to keeping others away from her and her business?

She takes the seat closest to the wall. It's protected. Nothing can sneak up on you. "Thank you." The comment about her chosen name is not something she really should be saying thank you to, but she feels prompted to be polite. "I think it suits me as well." For a brief moment, she wonders if they know why she did. It's not a devastating secret or some grand, deeper meaning, she thinks. More of a silly, childish thing just to remember.

If they do know, she doubts they'll tell her. "Well," She's digging into her coat pocket for a notepad— a small, cheap, spiral one that looks as worn down as she is. It's flipped open, 85's gaze dropping from Andro to her own scrawled writing. "My client is a lawyer. Apparently, one of his best friends was also his client; and they passed away." She glances up at them for a brief moment just to clarify; "Of old age. Nothing suspicious."

"However, in their will, unbeknownst to my client, there is mention of an unknown person who is to be given ownership of a part of their remaining estate. Now, the lawyer has done all he can to find this mysterious heir, only finding...old, vague letters of a falling out in the safety deposit box. The return address is old, the building is gone now. So we have no lead."

"But it's in the will. And it is the law. And it's his friend." 85 briefly wonders if anyone looked for her with the same fervor. "The person is referred to as Dante. There is also an indication that his last name starts with an 'E'. From that I was able to look at records of occupants at the address but none are quite right...or he lived under a false name." She poured over those letters for hours, now that she thinks about it. Studying the linguistics, the syntax, the small, inside jokes she had no context for...all until the final letters where the shift in tone became more bitter, heartbroken.

"I can show you the letters. The original address. The records I've found. I do not know what you can glean from all this. But any information is better than what I have now." Her lips purse a bit. "I think...I think he would like to know that he was still loved. That he was missed."

YOU HELP ME, I HELP YOU | Cont. from X | @losinmortalesperdidos

It was cruel, she knew that. And she wouldn't have gone so far for help if she hadn't truly needed it. 85 didn't like working with anyone, mainly due to her fear of a companion being used as leverage. When you're utterly alone in this world, with no connection or ties to anyone or anything...it's difficult to be hurt.

Andro's assistance should be minimal. And she'd keep the secret of their whereabouts in the vault of her mind, the only safe she's confident no one could ever crack. "...They did." She continues staring through the guilt. "And, if it's any consolation, I am not looking for anyone dangerous." Not all missing people were wanted criminals after all. Some were just deeply missed.

She quickly patters after them, patting herself on the back for at least getting through the door. "Tea please." 85 grapples with another bout of guilt for even allowing them to bother with getting her tea— but it's been a long journey and she would relish a chance to get off her feet. "You can call me 85 by the way."

[bts-hyperfixation]

The Princess and The Duke – Part 1

Duke!Namjoon x Princess!reader

I know I said this wasn’t going to be out until Friday, but after the Scammys, I thought I’d put it out today! This has not yet been edited.

Warnings - future smut, allusions to smut.

The first time you met you were six months old. Barely aware you existed, let alone there was a whole world existing around you. Namjoon was two at the time. A chubby little toddler clinging desperately to his mother as he tried to hide away from all the other strange people in the room. Most of the kingdom had turned out for your christening, so obviously the future Duke’s family had also made an appearance. They stood with the rest of the court at the front of the church, most of the adults attempting to corral children of their own instead of watching the Princess’ baptism.

It was only when a shrill cry echoed through the church hall that Namjoon looked up from his mother’s shoulder trying to locate the noise. Turned out you didn’t appreciate being dipped into freezing cold holy water. From then on, he’d watched intently, each movement made by the priest and your family, craning his neck to watch you wiggle in the queen’s arms. You were just so small, and so pink. He liked pink, and you were wrapped in piles of pink lace. He knew these were traditional colours for your kingdom, his mom liked to tell him stories about the pink flowers that grew throughout his homeland. Beautiful pink daisies. They were his favourite bedtime stories.

Stories of a brave king leading his army into battle. Each week he would send home a bouquet of the only flower that grew on the battlefield. Each week the queen would know he was okay, until one week they didn’t arrive. For the next few days, the queen was inconsolable, after that she was catatonic. She sat draped in black watching the last of the pink daisies wither. As the last petal fell from the shrivelled bud, a shout was heard throughout the kingdom. The king had returned, enemies slain, and with him he brought as many flowers as the cavalry could carry. The seeds were planted throughout the country, and those were the same flowers that remained to this day. The flowers that were lining the pews of the church, and the ballroom at the palace.

After the christening, members of the court were invited for a meal and to meet the infant princess, to meet you. The banquet was held in the ballroom, a long table adorned with wreaths and favours for each of the guests. You were placed in a cradle close to the king. A place where all could visit to pay their respects and your father could protect you. Once his family had finished their meal, they visited your crib, offering a gift and paying their respects to the royals. Namjoon tugged at his mother’s dress until she lifted him to get a better look. As he peered into the cot, he was shocked to find you staring straight up at him. Other babies he met always seemed to be asleep, but not you.

He wriggled in the duchess’ arms until he could reach you. The room fell silent as he extended his chubby hand to poke at your own curled fist. No one outside of your family, the priest, and the doctors had dared to touch you yet. They waited with bated breath for a response from the king. Little Namjoon paid no attention to the eyes on him, too focused on you. Your small fingers wrapped their way around his. The king had cooed at the event, closely followed by everyone else in the room.

…

The next time you met Namjoon properly you were four, he was almost six. You’d been allowed outside to play with the other children of the court. The problem was, many of them were considerably older than you. None of the ‘big’ girls wanted to play silly little girl games. So you sat alone and watched them as they made daisy chains together. You tried to copy them from afar, but your pudgy little fingers wouldn’t cooperate, ripping through the stems instead of creating the holes needed to thread more flowers.

Namjoon had been following around the gardener when he saw you. Decapitated daisies lay by the dozen around your feet. He couldn’t bear to see the carnage continue, so he took pity on you. He picked a flower with a thick enough stem and passed it too you. To say you were thrilled was an understatement. You’d taken the flower excitedly and threaded another through before giving it back to him to make another hole. The two of you had then spent the next half hour together, him piercing stems and you threading them into long chains. He laughed as you concentrated. Your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you focused on the task at hand.

When you decided the chain was long enough, he made one last hole so you could form a circle. With the ring complete you stepped on your tippy toes to place it over his head, nodding in approval as the string draped from his neck to his knees. He looked down, assessing his new accessory and beamed a smile back at you. The first time you ever saw his dimples. Immediately you were compelled to poke them. He didn’t stop you as you reached for his cheek, instead laughing so they deepened.

You weren’t like any princess he had seen in his books. Those princesses were graceful and dainty. You were more like a bull in a china shop. Honestly, he was relived. All the other boys were in high school, they had no time for him. And the girls all wanted him to play ‘prince charming’. It was fun playing with you. You’d run around the gardens with him, dig in the mud, and exchange the stories your parents read at bedtimes.

…

Age six brought the loss of your first tooth. The tooth had been placed in a tissue under your pillow and the next morning it had become money! You had been so excited to tell Namjoon all about it, only for him to burst your bubble.

“The tooth fairy isn’t real Y/N” he’d stated matter-of-factly, his nose turned up at the notion.

“Is too!” you’d cried back petulantly. You’d seen her with your own two eyes. Well you’d been half asleep, and it was dark… but you were certain it had been her.

“Is not!” the eight-year-old boy retorted. “I’ll prove it! Next time you lose a tooth don’t tell nobody. She won’t come I promise.” He’d sounded so smug. You wanted to hit him. instead you set out to prove him wrong. You kept wiggling your teeth hoping one would come loose. It’s around a month later you get your chance. The tooth came out in the apple you were eating for dessert. Carefully you hid the bone from your nanny so she couldn’t tell your parents. After you were tucked in that night, you slid the bone under your pillow and waited for the fairy to visit you. But she never came.

The next day when you saw Namjoon, you were devastated, but still not ready to concede the fairy’s existence.  

“Maybe I upset her?” you sniffle at him “You’re not supposed to wait for her, I broke the rules! That’s why she didn’t come! What if she never visits me again?” tears fell freely down your face. Namjoon had never felt so guilty, not even when he lied about breaking his mom’s favourite vase. He had watched you cry for a moment, unsure of where to go from here. He had made the heir to the throne cry… could he get locked away for this?

“It’s my fault Y/N! I was just jealous” he quickly tried to formulate a believable story in his head as you wiped away your tears.

“Jealous?” your voice was small, a little hope filtering through the sadness.

“Yeah… jealous. See I… uh… I’ve nearly got all my big teeth now, so she doesn’t come to see me as often. I bet if you put the tooth under your pillow tonight and go to sleep, she will come!” your face had lit up at the news. Immediately after he’d said goodbye to you, he went and told the gardener about your tooth. When you woke up the next day, a shiny coin was in the tooth’s place. You’d held the discovery over Namjoon for the few months, but he didn’t care. He was just happy you were happy and that he didn’t get into trouble.

…

At age eight you were definitely not shaping up to be the perfect princess. In fact you were quite the rambunctious little tot. Your mother became more and more exasperated every time you turned up with a new grass stain on one of your best gowns. She begged you to spend more time having tea parties with the girls instead. It was never your fault though. The tea parties were dull and Namjoon would challenge you to a race through the maze, or to see who could climb highest in the trees. You couldn’t just let him win.

If you weren’t running around or rolling down hills, you were lying together staring up at the clouds from the middle of the topless bandstand in the middle of the maze. The beautiful white stone structure had quickly become ‘your’ spot. None of the other palace kids showed any interest in exploring the maze, and the adults always seemed to get lost trying to find you. Hours were wasted with the two of you just staring up at the sky, sometimes talking about your day, sometimes in complete silence. It was just nice to be with him.

On calmer days he would read aloud from a book while you made daisy chains. You could do it by yourself now. Much more in control of your own limbs than you used to be. The summer before Namjoon was due to go to high school you made a chain so long you could coil it around the entire base of the bandstand.

…

After he started high school, you saw a lot less of Namjoon. He wasn’t able to come around as often between his homework and extracurriculars. Instead you begged your father to let you attend his football games. Each Saturday you went in disguise with your nanny to watch Namjoon play, regardless of the weather. You weren’t even sure you enjoyed the sport, but it was worth it for the smile he flashed every time he found you amongst the onlookers.

Each week you wore a different disguise wanting to make it difficult for him, but each time he found you without fail.

You melted every time, knowing that smile was just for you. Originally you told yourself it was just a swell of pride, watching your best friend play. Eventually you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than that, but you swallowed the crush. After all he was in high school, he wouldn’t want a silly little girl like you anyway.

…

When you turned fourteen it was time to for you to be presented to the kingdom. A ball was thrown in your honour, the first of many you would attend in your lifetime. The thought of being alone at any big event made you feel queasy. The fact that this one was going to be focused entirely on you made you ill for an entire week before. Namjoon had spent the week trying to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. Luckily, your birthday had been during a break from school so he could spend the time with you. He grew more and more concerned as he watched your health deteriorating to a point where you could barely keep water down. Eventually he came to a decision and asked for an audience with the king himself.

He’d dressed in his best suit making sure not a single hair was out of place. He marched straight up to the double doors to your father’s study and took a deep breath, more than prepared to argue his point. Your father had welcomed Namjoon into his office with open arms. He’d always been fond of the boy, especially knowing the weak spot you held for him. Regardless of the warm reception and his original confidence in his idea, Namjoon felt the nerves begin to overtake him. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his suit jacket, breath coming out shakily.

“Can I escort Y/N to her first ball.” The king had been taken aback by Joon’s sudden outburst, his face showing obvious surprise at the young man’s bold request. Namjoon mistook the expression for a dismissal and so, in a much less eloquent way than he had practiced in is shower, he fought his case.

“Y/N has been ill all week; she doesn’t think she can do this alone…. And I just thought… maybe she would be okay if I were with her. I know I’m only a duke, but I just want her to be okay and I really think this would be good and it’ll only be for this one ball and…” Namjoon’s rambling came to an end when your father raised his hand. Namjoon clenched his fists as he waited for an answer.

Your father had taken his time to consider Namjoon’s proposal, enjoying the way the boy had squirmed under his gaze. To this day, Namjoon refers to it as the second most terrifying day of his life. Eventually a smile had broken over the kings face, no longer able to contain his laugh. He clapped Namjoon on the shoulder and sent him off with his blessing.

On his way to meet you in the gardens afterwards, he had gathered the prettiest daisies he could find. He found you lying on the floor of the bandstand, looking a little too pale as you stared up at the clouds floating past. He cleared his throat on arrival, making you look at him with the offer of a weak smile, not really taking him in.

When he didn’t take his place beside you, you’d sat up to look at him properly. That’s when you saw the pinstripe suit and quaffed hair. It looked so unlike him you couldn’t help but giggle. Normally Joon was a t-shirt and basketball shorts kind of guy. He had rolled his eyes and extended his hand to help you up. You took it, every question in your mind had gotten stuck in your throat when his eyes had met yours. You never did get over that silly little crush. He didn’t release your hand like you expected him too. Instead he placed the bouquet into your free hand and asked you the question you’d been dreaming he would.

“Just to protect you of course… I don’t like when you aren’t well” He’d broken the moment by ruffling your hair, a sure sign he was doing this as a favour.

He took you to every ball you attended after that one.

…

The summer you turned seventeen was the summer before Namjoon left for university. You snuck out passed your guards in the night to see him. There was a very convenient secret passageway that led from your room to the gardens. You would meet him at the bandstand and talk until the sun came over the horizon. The lack of sleep had been worth it to spend those last fleeting days with him. You talked about anything and nothing, just like you would in the daytime, but this felt far more intimate.

The first time you convinced him to meet you after curfew his eyes flitted everywhere. Always nervous someone would find the two of you there and assume the worst. You on the other hand were just desperate to soak up as much of your friends company as you could before he left.

Over time he’d become more comfortable with the routine. In fact he had been certain that your sneaking around hadn’t even been that sneaky, your parents were just allowing you to rebel like this. Eventually he got used to walking you back to the entrance of the secret passageway, spending an extra few moments together.

His final night in town had been an emotional one. You’d sat side by side, your head on his shoulder staring up at the stars in complete silence for a long time. A tear fell down your cheek every time you thought about him leaving you. He’d wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close just as a shooting star arched across the sky. You immediately had a wish in mind. Eyes scrunched tight and fists clenched, you wished as hard as you could that he would stay, or at least that he’d come back fast. But unfortunately, he had to go, and morning came around far too fast.

You’d dragged your feet as he walked you back to the passageway. Shoulders bumping together, fingers brushing, glances stolen when you were sure the other wasn’t looking. The wall that concealed your entrance had come into view far too quickly. You’d sighed as you reluctantly pressed in the stones that would open the doorway, far from ready to say goodbye to the boy you’d grown up with. You hugged him goodbye, tears streaming freely down your face. You’d released him and turned to walk back into the castle, but as you’d taken that first step, he grabbed you sharply by the wrist and pulled you back to him.

His lips were so soft as they met yours. The surprise had knocked all the air out of your lungs forcing you to pull back sooner than you would’ve liked. He wiped the tears from your face and pulled you back to him, kissing you once more. And then he was gone.

…

The following autumn had dragged by. With no Namjoon, you had been forced to invest in the idle gossip of other members of the court, actually pay attention in your elocution lessons, and, perhaps worst of all, prepare for your first ball without your trusty escort. Every time you thought of Namjoon your lips tingled at the memory of your first kiss. You were devastated when his parents had told you he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the Christmas ball.

When the time came, you’d prepared for the ball like you had every other. A team came to pinch, primp, and style you to within an inch of yourself. This year they’d decided on a snow theme. Your pale blue ballgown had been the most beautiful one you’d worn at that point. It glittered like freshly fallen snow in the winter sun. The skirt poofed out around your waist and fell just above your feet so people could still see the matching shoes with little snowflakes. It was the best you thought you’d ever looked, and it broke your heart to know Namjoon wasn’t going to see you like that.

When the time came, you’d taken a breath and readied yourself for a night of refusing advances of handsy nobles, and questions you weren’t prepared to answer about the whereabouts of your usual date. You took a hold of the banister and began your entrance into the grand ballroom, desperately trying to keep your eyes forward and not trip at the same time. Whilst concentrating on not falling flat on your face, you had failed to notice one crucial detail about the room before you, until he took your hand and brought it to his lips. Namjoon had made it home after all.

You spent the entire event together. For every slow dance you were in the middle of the floor swaying together as he whispered sweet things in your ear. Time not on the dance floor had been spent laughing and catching up. The night came to an end with you escaping to your spot.

He’d picked a daisy and threaded it into your hair, trailing his fingers down the side of your face when he was finished. You’d boldly stepped even closer to him, lips inches away from his, daring him to repeat the night he left, and he’d gladly taken the opportunity.  He’d pulled you impossibly closer, lifting you on to your tiptoes and kissed you like a man starved. You’d wrapped your arms around his waist. Desperately trying to make up for lost time. Eventually you came to rest, foreheads resting against one another, breathing hard.

“Y/N I love you.” It was the first time he admitted it out loud, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. In fact he said it at least twenty more times that night.

“I love you too Joon.” You kissed him one more time before taking his hand and breaking into a sprint. You came to a stop at the passageway to your chambers. “Come in with me?” You’d asked, flashing him doe eyes he had never been able to resist.

“Are you sure?” He brushed a stray hair behind your ear and met your eyes, you’d never seen him look so serious.

“Well I can’t get out of this dress alone.” You’d tried to joke. When his expression didn’t change you gulped down any reservations and nodded. “I’m completely sure.” He’d swept you into his arms and carried you through your room laying you down on your bed. His coat and tie had been immediately discarded across the room. You’d sat up to get a better look as he undid the buttons on his white dress shirt, biting your lip at the thought of running your hands across his bare skin. He stopped undressing himself to look back at you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He embraced you, fingers finding the zipper at the back of your gown. You allowed the sleeves to fall down your arms, exposing your chest to him. Immediately his lips had gone to trail along your collarbones. He mumbled ‘I love you’ as he went. Each kiss punctuated by the words you’d longed to hear from him. You pushed his shirt down his shoulders, letting your hands linger on his biceps, rubbing little circles on the perfect skin.

“Joon?” he answers you with a hmm. “Is this real?” he pulled away from you to meet your eyes.

“I hope so.” He responded before kissing you deeply again. When you’d gotten the chance you’d stood up and allowed the dress to puddle around your feet.  He reached out to pull you in again by your newly expose waist, positioning you underneath him. He’d kissed down your stomach until he reached the top of your underwear.

“Maybe we should stop here?” he’d said, pulling away from you, “I want our first time to be something amazing.” You’d nodded, a little reluctant, but you’d waited this long for him, you could wait a little longer. Instead you’d settled into your bed together, cuddled close in just your underwear, praying that you didn’t wake up from this dream.

…

Everything was perfect, you stayed together throughout both his and your university experience. The whole kingdom knew of their childhood sweethearts. The duke and the princess destined to be together. The night of your graduation, a large ball had been put together in your honour and while no one dared say it aloud, everyone was certain there were hidden intentions behind the congratulatory event. The feeling was in the air, the whole of the kingdom whispered rumours of how the young duke was going to propose. They wondered how it would be announced, if he was going to ask you in the middle of all the guest, or if he’d elect to be more private about it.

But then the day of the ball arrived and Namjoon wasn’t waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs like he usually would. You assumed he would be waiting somewhere to surprise you, but the whispers started as soon as you’d turned up to the ballroom unescorted. No one had seen him. The entire night people had congratulated you on graduating, but your heart wasn’t even your replies. Instead you’d spent the night searching every face in the room for a sign of your missing lover.

As the night wore on it became clear that he had no intentions of attending. You’d put every ounce of your princess training to good use that night as you tried not to cry, humiliated in front of everyone you had ever known.

Awaiting you in your bedroom at the end of the night was a bouquet of pink daisies and a simple note that said ‘I’m so sorry’

You wouldn’t see Namjoon again for two years…

Part 2

Masterlist

Losing Virginity drabble

Taglist: @uraveragefangirlsposts

[caffeinated-cryptid]

patton and the no-good day

5.9k words | AO3 link | warnings: angst, alcohol, swearing, arguing, lashing out, minor injury, crying, fire, repetition.

“Patton wants to know what it’s like to make the right choices, so he tries...And tries. And tries and tries andtriesandtries-

(aka: a time loop fic where patton manages to revisit the day of svs, this time with the goal of making everyone happy. he quickly discovers that he's bitten off more than he can chew.)”

________________________________

Patton was unhappy. And he was unhappy because everyone else was unhappy. After the wedding, he had become so intimately aware of every mistake he had made. From Logan’s quiet dismissal when he tried to talk to him, to Virgil’s obvious avoidance of everyone, to Roman’s complete shutdown.

The only sides he could assume weren’t mad at him at the moment were Janus and Remus. And Remus was only a maybe, just based on how excited he’d been to hear that he had turned into a giant muscular frog alone.

Patton could only grimace upon recalling his breakdown. It was supposed to be the turning point for him, an indication of ‘Hey, I've come to realize that I’m deeply flawed but now I’m able to start fixing things!’. But of course, it didn’t turn out like that. Every day that passed only grew harder and harder with his mistakes staring him in the face. He was tired of waking up, dreading the insurmountable process of trying to make things right and failing, only to fall asleep and try again the next day.

It was like he was trapped in a loop of identical days, each one as ineffective as the last.

Patton could barely imagine the end of this tunnel, until one morning, he woke up and for once everything felt... different.

He ignored the feeling at first as got ready as usual, heading out towards the kitchen with the expectation of seeing empty chairs at empty tables once more. Except when he walked in this time, preparing to make a breakfast no one would eat, everyone was there already seated. It was just like how everything was before-- Janus and Remus were absent, but Logan, Virgil, Roman...all of the sides he considered his best friends were there, all togeher in one place for the first time in weeks.

He burst into tears on the spot and they collectively startled, immediately questioning what was wrong. It took a few minutes to convince them all that he was fine, that he just got emotional seeing them all because he loved them so much (which wasn't even a lie!), and in the end they accepted his explanation because sometimes that was just what Patton was like. As he sat down and tried to act as normal as possible, he couldn't help but stare at all of them, so carefree as they chatted and poked fun at each other. There wasn't a single furrowed brow, or a hidden frown, or a look of hurt. It was unfortunately because of that that he knew his gut feeling was right; there was something strange going on here.

Throughout the morning, Patton couldn’t put his finger on what was so familiar about this day until he felt a certain series of events occur: Thomas gets a call. He picks up the phone and talks with the casting agent for a famous director. He’s told that he got the callback for his audition and he’s terribly excited, so excited that his sides come out to celebrate with him and-

Oh. Oh! That was his cue, wasn’t it? Patton bit back a frown, rising up to share their excitement and then to remind them about the wedding that was scheduled for the same day. It was hauntingly familiar, seeing the way Thomas and Roman became dejected and knowing that this was only the start of an uphill battle.

And then Fauxgan came in- or rather Janus, disguised as Logan- and when Patton saw his new snakey friend, his chest swelled with excitement. This was his opportunity to change things! He knew that in the current script, Janus would soon reveal himself and begin pushing back against what Patton had said. So when that happened this time, he could simply agree and make it seem like he had been convinced to change his mind. That way, they could reach a different solution and everyone would be happy.  Simple!

Patton watched and waited patiently as the others made comments back and forth; Virgil and Janus snarking each other as Janus made his case to be listened to.

“That...can not be where the bar is!” Virgil protested in disbelief once Thomas agreed to hear him out, based on his vague 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend' ideal.

“Well, the bar for skipping an important opportunity should be higher than a...social engagement.” Janus replied distastefully.

This was where he originally jumped in to disagree. Patton saw Roman grow shifty out of the corner of his eye and knew: this was it!

“Maybe Janus is right! This is a huge opportunity. We should try to figure out a way to make both events if we can, but this means a lot for Thomas so we shouldn’t just skip it.“ Patton said confidently, even though the argument felt strange coming out of his mouth. At least he knew this time around he was making the right choice by backing down.

But the others only looked at him strangely, with varying degrees of confusion across their faces.

“Who’s Janice-”

“You’re agreeing with  him?! I knew you were acting weird-”

“How do you know my name-”

Patton’s eyes widened, realizing his subconscious mistake. He had gotten so used to referring to Deceit as Janus over the weeks that they’d been friends that his name just automatically slipped out. It was too late to take it back; the conversation was quickly derailed, with too many accusations coming out at once to even try geting back into the dilemma. At one point Janus wondered aloud if Remus had somehow gotten out and taken the form of Patton, which only raised more questions and ended with a sword pointed at his throat.

It was a disaster. They make the last-minute decision to go to the wedding out of spite for Janus and Patton.

________________________________

The next morning, Patton woke up with a start, looking around his room to find that it was exactly the way he had left it the day prior. Normally this wouldn’t be such a cause for alarm, but today it was because Patton was certain he had thrown a few things last night in childish frustration at himself for messing things up. Only soft items, because he couldn’t bear to accidentally destroy anything in his sentiment-filled room, but the fact remained that seeing his pillows lined up at the end of his bed again was a strange sign, one that had him suspicious about how this day was going to go.

To test his theory, he went down to the kitchen without bothering to change out of his pajamas, only to see the other three sides already sitting there in the exact same places as yesterday. He paused in the doorway, waiting for them to show recognition of the day prior-- for some kind of hostility or accusation. The only thing he received were snickers.

“Nice PJs, Pat.” Virgil smirked over his bowl of cereal before going back to scrolling on his phone.

Patton’s mind slowly processed this. It was as if the day had reset, back to the world he had woken up to yesterday. He sunk down into the last remaining chair and forced himself to make a joke about ‘having a PB&J sandwich to match this PJ day’, despite Logan’s protests that he would not be sharing the last jar of crofters (He always said this to deter them from eating his jam, but it was always a lie and he'd always let them have some in the end. Patton didn’t realize how much he missed that habit of his until he almost started crying again over Logan passing him the jam jar).

After a perfectly normal breakfast, he quickly returned back to his room to change and prepare for what was ahead of him. Now that he knew the day was definitely repeating and could recognise where he went wrong yesterday, he just needed to ensure he didn’t make such a silly mistake right off the bat again.

He went through the motions: Thomas getting a phone call, him reminding them of the wedding, and then the beginnings of debate.

“I agree with Deceit.” He said this time, smiling as he remembered to not use Janus’ name.

Despite his conscious effort, it doesn’t go over much better. Janus was surprised and suspicious of Patton’s sudden change of heart and Virgil immediately got on the defense. Once again, the argument quickly escalated.

“Why would you side with him?! He’s one of the others! You can’t trust him!” Virgil cried, hands tugging on his hoodie strings as he desperately tried to convince them. It was currently three against one. He must have felt cornered, having no one on his side, Patton realized belatedly.

“And how are you so sure of that?” Patton still responded back, feeling offended on behalf of his friend. He had promised himself he wouldn’t make things worse this time, but seeing Virgil get so angry at him hit a sore spot. As long as he was right about his theory, this day was already ruined the moment he sided with Janus, anyway.

“Because I was one of them!” Virgil yelled, and his expression quickly changed from frustrated to devastated to frightened. And then he sunk out, giving no one the chance to stop him.

The remaining sides stood in silence before Janus broke into hysterical laughter. Patton could hear it echo in his mind as the day reset for the third time.

________________________________

The next time, he didn’t bring up the wedding at all.

Patton didn’t want to kid himself; he was scared from seeing Virgil sink out so suddenly. After having Virgil’s anger directed at him twice and seeing him leave upset once, he figured that meant that outright siding with Janus was a risky thing to do if he wanted to make sure everyone was happy by the end of this.

So instead of trying to change his stance, he simply removed the confusing aspect out of the equation altogether and made sure no one remembered it or brought it up. This way for sure, he thought, everything would go a lot smoother.

...He was wrong.

Weeks passed after the phone call and everything was peaceful-- Patton didn’t experience any resets and he took this as a good sign, enjoying the time with his family which he had dearly been missing out on. The sides were excited for the opportunity, which only grew when the callback came and went and they aced it. It was like Patton had finally achieved the dream scenario, until one day later when Thomas summoned them with a horrified look on his face.

“I skipped Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding when I went to the callback.” Was all he said.

“...Huh? How is that possible?” Virgil asked, simultaneously looking like he was going to faint and/or run away. “That couldn’t have been yesterday, could it? I mean, the odds of that…”

“It was. However…” Logan spoke up, and everyone watched as he summoned his calendar, wearing baffled expressions when he pointed to yesterday’s date-- revealing that the wedding had never been written down at all. Thomas had somehow pushed it completely out of his mind.

“But...it was for a big opportunity! Surely they’ll understand if you explain why you had to miss the wedding.” Roman argued, glancing around at the panicking sides.

“That’s the thing, they’re upset that I didn’t tell them about it beforehand and they think I blew them off on purpose. Now all of our mutual friends think I only care about myself.” Thomas stressfully looked down at his phone as he got another text message- and not a very kindly-worded one at that. “I don’t know what to do to fix this!”

Patton paled. Surely that couldn’t be right. Could things really have gotten this bad, just because he hadn’t reminded them of the wedding?

“It looks like Thomas has become a social pariah.” A smooth voice cut in. “And I’m sure you all know who’s to blame.”

No-

________________________________

The next time, Patton woke up in tears, unable to get the image of Janus turning against him out of his mind.

This time he doesn��t try to avoid the debate. Debates were crucial; they were how they got through most of their problems! In retrospect it was silly to try and skip that part of the day altogether, but at least now he had a clearer idea of what to try next. The issue from the last attempt was that Lee and Mary Lee weren’t spoken to, so this time he’d back Roman up when he suggested communication.

When they were next able to arrange a meeting to talk, Thomas explained the situation to the couple; how he had gotten a last-minute once in a lifetime offer. They were excited for him and encouraged him to take the opportunity, but Patton saw it in their eyes, how they gave Thomas sad smiles and looked at each other with disappointment.

He panicked, and Thomas changed his tune, pretending to check his phone and coming to the ‘realization’ that he got the time wrong, that he could go after all.

Lee and Mary Lee were thrilled.

But the others hated him for it.

________________________________

The next time for sure, he thought he’d get the courage to do it right.

They talked to Lee and Mary Lee. Thomas explains the situation, and this time Patton doesn’t make him change his mind. They’re disappointed, but despite knowing this deep down Thomas stays firm and decides to go to callback anyway.

During the lead-up to the 13th of April, Roman keeps looking to him for guidance, asking if this was really alright. Patton tries to assure him, but even he doesn’t know. He feels like everything he’s doing is putting them on the right track, but after thinking he was doing the right thing and being wrong several times, he isn’t able to say for certain that they were making a good choice. Especially not with the unknown variable of Lee and Mary Lee's disappointment thrown into the mix.

Eventually Roman learns to stop coming to him with his fears, and when it comes to the callback he chokes during the performance. Thomas messes up and someone else gets the role.

They don’t get to go to the wedding or win the callback.

Roman ducks out the same day and Remus takes his place.

________________________________

The next time, Patton was overly aware of his lack of certainty. He hadn’t realized how close Roman had been to falling over the edge, so during his next attempt he can't help but keep it fresh in his mind.

Throughout the debate he makes sure to agree with the creative side. He didn’t oppose any of his arguments or call him out where he originally thought he was being selfish; he’s as kind and gentle as can be, haunted by what had happened one cycle ago.

It makes Janus upset. He knows Patton’s true stance and can’t understand why he’s silencing his voice so much for one side alone. He ends up pointing out how Patton is being underhanded by trying to use flattery to get things to go his way and then mentions how that must be how he's managed to keep everyone under his thumb for so long. Patton sees red.

It’s nice to get his steadily building frustration out. Perhaps Janus is an undeserving target of his anger, but the criticism just hit too close to home for him to accept lying down. He didn't want to be a manipulative person. He had been trying so hard to let others have their voices be heard and not seize control the narrative too much, but in the end wasn't that what he was doing now? Trying to manipulate everything, even if his motives were good? The realization had blood pumping in his ears, drowning out everything but his own voice.

Everyone becomes tense when he starts yelling and Janus only stares in shock, confused and oddly enough, hurt to be the focus of the usually happy pappy's wrath. Patton yells until his throat is hoarse, and then some more because he knows he can't damage his vocal chords here. He does it for Logan, who had been pushed aside almost every time they've done this. For Virgil, who had so many doubts and fears and was too afraid to share them until they become too much. For Roman, who was the most likely to get crushed whatever they did. For Janus, who was just trying to get a seat at the table. For Remus, who potentially never would.

For himself, who just couldn't get this right.

When he's done the room is so silent that they would have been able to hear a pin drop and he feels a weight off his chest. He's made his point, loud and clear.

Even though the others have no idea what he’s talking about.

________________________________

The next time, Patton wakes up feeling guilty for losing his temper, despite how cathartic it had been to let loose a little bit. He can’t look the others in the eye when he goes to breakfast, and instead spends the whole time in his head, trying to figure out what to try next.

This time he decides to soften his voice. He already knows it’s a mistake based on prior experience, but he doesn’t know what else to do-- doesn’t have the time to consider any other approach to take before Thomas is getting that phone call once again.

Throughout the debate, his statements fall short. He lacks conviction. He subtly tries to side with Janus and Roman, but not to the extent where it makes Virgil upset, and it only makes him look flakey. He’s flimsy; uncertain, and everyone can tell. He can practically feel Logan’s desperation to take his place from the back row.

In the end, Thomas is convinced that he’s a completely horrible and selfish person due to Patton’s lack of assertion otherwise and avoids both events out of a self-induced spiral of guilt and anxiety.

________________________________

The next time Patton is too firm. He keeps assuring Thomas that he’s not a bad person, and realizes too late that he fell back into his old habits.

Roman sentences them to the wedding again.

Patton summons a pillow to scream into in frustration.

________________________________

By the 50th loop, Patton had more or less given up. He starts the day by rolling out of bed and popping open the cork of a wine bottle right into his face. It’s in the moment he starts feeling a black eye form that he makes the formal decision: fuck it.

He skips breakfast to sip wine through a silly straw (because casual alcoholism doesn’t count when you make it fun. Or when you’re stuck in a figurative nightmare), and he changes into the most ‘dad on vacation’ clothes he owned; a gaudy hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. He forgoes shoes because decidedly this isn’t a shoes kind of day, and after 50 god-forsaken attempts at trying to get this right, he thinks he’s earned a little self-indulgence.

When the time rolls around to start the video, he belatedly rises up in the living room tispy and wearing his old 2015 new years novelty sunglasses. The others are immediately taken aback at his appearance while Thomas grimaces.

“Ah… So that’s why I’ve been thinking about cursing people out all day.”

“You should. It’d be funny.” Patton giggles.

“...Okay.” Virgil states, likely finding his behaviour too familiar for comfort. “What the fuck."

Janus doesn’t join them this time around; instead the real Logan shows up because suddenly everything had switched courses into a completely different problem. The four of them try to figure out what’s wrong with Patton, and he refuses to cooperate the entire time, just for the heck of it. Eventually he grows bored of watching them fuss and squabble, so he starts saying the first things to come to mind, the deepest opinions that were buried under all of his repression-- things he wouldn’t dare say if he were sober and free from this hell.

“I hate all of you sometimes.” He announces over their discussion without guilt, too far gone to care how hurt the faces that looked back at him were. He knew it wasn’t real anyway, at least it wouldn’t be when the next loop started.

“I hate how I can apologize forever and it’s still not enough. I hate how I have to accept the mistakes made against me, but you all get to sulk for weeks and not even let me try to make things right. When all I’ve ever wanted is to make you happy.”

“Patton-” Logan begins hesitantly. He looks like he wants to contradict him and Patton doesn't care for it.

“Stupid of me, right Logan?” He cuts him off with a laugh, dry and completely unlike himself. Logan closes his mouth, regret flashing across his face, and it just felt so good in that moment to be the bitter one for once. He’s never done it before; always having to take the high road while everyone else chose to be petty and self-absorbed in their own egos. No fault to them for that; he felt pretty amazing right now, going against the moral code he had built and adhered to for so long. It felt forbidden and like the sort of thing he’d regret later. (And heck, with all the mistakes he’d been accidentally making, perhaps doing something wrong on purpose was like taking that power back.)

“I’m doing all of this- going through this day again and again- for what?” He continues, glaring at them individually. “I’m doing my best here- just to make everything alright again, and- fuck.”

Patton ignores the shocked expression he gets when he swears. He’s getting too close to feeling bad again, so he summons another bottle of wine. He learns from his mistake and points it away from himself this time, and the cork doesn’t hit him in the face; instead it smashes into the tv screen. Roman and Virgil yelp. Thomas stares.

“...Patton, what are you talking about?” Thomas asks.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Patton giggles again after taking a long swig, sliding back against the blinds until he's on the floor. Away from the cameras, at last. “None of you will remember this anyway.”

And they don’t. (They never do)

________________________________

The next time, he wakes up without a black eye or a hangover and considers not leaving his bed today. He does anyway, just to make sure he hadn’t done something irreversible and ruined everything for real this time.

He goes to the kitchen to find everyone sitting like they always do, in the exact same positions at the exact same time with the exact same food, without fail. They acknowledge him the same way they always do as he enters the room and he can’t help but grind his teeth when it feels like mocking. So he walks over to the cupboard and starts pulling out plates to smash against the ground.

They’re surprised, worried, taken aback, and as he stands in a sea of broken china he doesn’t care about what they have to think about him. He already knows nothing he does right now will have later consequences, even if it means cutting up his feet like an idiot.

He’ll just have to do better next time.

________________________________

He doesn’t do better. Instead, he gives into the urge to stay in bed all day. No one comes for him and the discussion happens without him, which he knows because he resists the summons to go testify.

Maybe Logan got to be the lawyer this time. That’d be nice, he supposes. ________________________________

The next time he sets fire to his room, just to see what it would feel like to see everything he cares for burn.

(It doesn't feel much like anything, because he already knows it'll be back the next day. He hates it in unspeakable amounts when he's proven right.)

________________________________

The next, he goes over to the other half of the mindscape and steals Janus’ hat, feeling a bit more carefree as the side pursues him around the mindscape and the rest of the day is derailed.

________________________________

The next, he tries to make a cake to celebrate the callback and accidentally burns it. He feels like there's some sort of cosmic irony there.

________________________________

The next, he does nothing but make puns until the others cry in frustration.

________________________________

Next, he goes to the other half of the mindscape again and hangs out with Remus all day, just to check up on him after not seeing him since he took Roman’s place that one time.

Remus tries to attack him several times but Patton is past the point of being afraid of him. At one point he catches the shuriken Remus throws at his head and he finally manages to earn his favour.

They end up having a good time, talking until everything resets again.

________________________________

Next, he kisses everyone on the cheek and apologizes for getting drunk and being mean to them.

(Despite them being reseted versions of themselves and therefore not remembering any of it. He still does it anyway and it still makes him feel slightly better afterwards).

________________________________

Next, he finds the energy to make a genuine effort once again.

This time Logan ducks out. Patton spends the next few loops in mourning.

________________________________

By around the 75th loop, he’s finally had enough. There’s no more fun to be had messing around with these constantly-reseting sides, and he’s so so tired of trying to keep the peace and failing. Nothing he does was working-- in fact it seemed like he was just making things worse based on the amount of times one of the sides had broken down in front of them or tried to duck out or left with undealt with emotions. (There were so many things he had seen that would stick with him for a while, wondering just how close they were to having something similar happen in reality. He couldn't even rest anymore, kept awake by the questions.)

If he were a different side, one more accustomed to problem solving, perhaps he would’ve had a solution by now, but he just doesn’t. It's not how he was meant to operate. So instead of trying to figure it out, he goes to Virgil’s room after breakfast and starts blubbering in front of him until he’s led onto his bed where he's awkwardly consoled.

Virgil, without even knowing why he’s upset, places a comforting hand on his back anyway which sends Patton into even greater sobs. It had been so long since he'd let someone hug him or show him affection- so upset with himself for his failings that he stopped believing that he deserved any of it. This time he just lets it happen because he needs some comfort and if he doesn't get it he doesn't know how he'll be able to continue forward.

The two of them end up moving to a more neutral part of the mindscape as to not make his feelings worse, and he allows himself to indulge in just being held. He's aware of exactly how long they have until the start of the debate, so he milks his time with Virgil for all he's got, until eventually his crying evens out into sniffles, leaving him with tired eyes and a runny nose.

He knows Virgil wants to ask what’s wrong, but he breaks the silence first when he finally manages to calm down.

“Do you know how to get out of a loop?”

He can’t see Virgil’s face from where they’re hugging, but he can tell that he’s at odds with the question.

“You’re asking me, the MVP of spiralling, how to get out of a loop?” Virgil asked unbelievingly.

“Yeah, you’re right- It was stupid.” Patton begins, pulling away before Virgil stops him.

“I didn’t say that.” He says quickly, worriedly. Then he goes quiet in deliberate thought. “...You have to rely on the people around you to get out of it, I guess.”

When Patton makes a questioning noise, he continues.

“I mean… Sometimes it’s all you can do, y’know? You’re always gonna be biased when you’re living in your own head, and if you’re struggling to get through something yourself... the best thing to do is ask for help. Get a different viewpoint.”

"Sounds scary." Patton laughs wetly. Virgil joins him, sounding relieved.

"Yeah. It's definitely not as easy as it sounds. Being vunerable and reaching out to people, that is."

"...How do you manage?"

"Well..." Virgil pulls back a little. "I don't always. But you just have to trust that it'll be worth it in the end. And it usually is."

After a moment of thinking that over, Patton draws back fully and stares at him. Virgil meets his eyes with barely-veiled worry as he continues. “So… If you’re dealing with something, you can always tell us. You should know by now that you don't have to deal with everything alone, popstar.”

Patton can't meet his gaze any longer when his eyes heat up once more. "...I just want to be there for all of you," He finally admits in a small voice. "It's my one goal, and I feel like I only let you down. I can't expect you to carry my problems with you, on top of that."

Virgil's frown deepens. "It's not us carrying a burden for you, Pat. It's sharing the load equally so you don't fall under the pressure." His hand found Patton's back again, rubbing small circles. "If you feel like you have to be the one to fix everything all the time, then maybe we failed you as friends."

Once again, the dam broke, and Patton sincerely did not know what to say to that. Virgil pulled him back to his side, letting Patton rest his head on his shoulder as he let out his second round of tears for the day. They were spending too much time talking about his issues, he realized as the video started once more, but Virgil didn't make any move to leave his side, and for the nth time that day, he was incredibly greatful to him.

Something about their conversation clicked in his brain, and it was like he knew exactly what he needed to do. When he was finally ready to let go of this day, he gave Virgil one last hug and thanked him for his advice. He then sunk out back to his room and fell into bed, waiting for the cycle to start over again.

Perhaps he had known all along what he would have to do to end this, and Virgil had given him the final shove.

Either way, he so was ready for it to be over.

________________________________

On the final loop, Patton decided to follow Virgil’s advice.

He goes back to acting as normal-- eating breakfast, getting the call, rising up, reminding them about the wedding-- and this time he doesn’t do anything especially different.

Unlike his previous attempts where he tried to change his tune, tried to see through every possibility, tried to stop arguments before they started; he instead tries to do everything the same way the original debate had gone, to be the best of his memory.

He didn’t falter when he said things he now knew to be insensitive, he didn’t hold back on disagreeing with the others, or insert himself into problems that weren’t his to help with yet. He watched as the cracks formed between each side, watched the gavel swing down, watched every other side sink out after shooing Janus away.

And he knew it would be just fine.

He looked into Thomas’ eyes and felt nothing but pride. Just like the real thing, this one looked uncertain, but was briefly relieved by the conclusion they came to, putting his trust in Patton as he reassured him in his decision. He knew that by choosing this route he was accepting the heartbreak that would come later, but he accepted that. He understood now that hiding in fantasies of getting everything perfect was counterproductive and unrealistic. He knew it was time to go back.

As he sunk out to his room for the final time, he realized that if this exercise taught him anything, it was that above making the right choices, above having the right things to say to fix everyone’s problems, all he needed, all along…

Was patience.

________________________________

Patton opened his eyes to the sight of dim spotlights overhead. With a loud dad grunt he was glad no one else was around to hear, he rolled over to sit on the edge of the stage, looking out to the seat in the crowd he had once been impersonated at.

He took in the room once last time before the lights continued to dim, which he instinctually knew to be the mind’s way of telling him to leave. He was ready for it; so he did.

Hopping off of the stage, he walked between the aisles towards the exit, pushing the doors open to be greeted with the familiar space of the mindscape. He stood there for a second, letting his eyes adjust from the darkness of the theatre as his memory slowly returned to him-- compressing the months he had just gone through until he could remember why he had come here in the first place.

“So.” He heard a familiar voice come from next to him as he regained his bearings. “Are you satisfied with what you found?”

“...Yeah.” Patton said softly, turning to smile at the figure.

“And?”

“I didn’t need to change anything in the end.”

There was a sharp exhale, barely a scoff. “Well, I could’ve told you that, and it would’ve saved you a lot of hassle.”

“You could have.” Patton agreed. “...But it was helpful seeing all the way things could have been different, too.”

His eyes fell to the ground, recalling the different outcomes that were wildly different and much much worse than their current situation. It made him grateful for the way everything had turned out-- imperfect but not broken-- and made everything seem so much less bleak than how he first thought it to be. When he was so lost that he had chosen to relive that day for the sake of getting peace.

“Oh? And what exactly happened in there?”

“A lot. One time I stole your hat. You got so mad that you started hissing.” Patton’s smile widened at one of the better memories, even more so when his friend grumbled.

“Wow. I’m so glad the hour I spent out here waiting was used productively.” Janus sighed, pulling his hat down subconsciously. “...I am glad that it helped, though.”

“I am too.” Patton hummed. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Janus finally returned his smile and Patton brightened up. They weren't yet confident that they could fix everything that had happened between the sides, they didn’t even know if it was possible for them to do so alone, but they were at least willing to take that step forward and offer a helping hand.

And that's all that matters, right? No matter how many times they were let down or faced an obstacle, they just kept getting up to try to be better. It didn't matter if things weren't alright again right away; sometimes earning forgiveness meant trusting the other person to come back to you eventually. Waiting for that opportunity to glue back the pieces together.

And if Patton was certain about anything, it was that he was more than prepared to wait.

________________________________

Tags: @nasatshirts @quinnthequeer @mayflowers07 @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @foxxsong @omnicrex @nadiestar @mistythegirlfluxmess @greenninjagal-blog @hit-or-mish @slytherin-halfblood @i-need-a-life-8903 @lemonlinelights @logicaemetus @bluestarfan10 @marshmallow-fluffy @enby-phoenix @arrestjellyfish @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @impatentpending @killjoy-3000 @nonasficcollection @mhep24601 @atomic-cat-dragon @puffydove @qrowdraws-notforyouthough @randommuffinyt @bubblycricket @theactual-devil @viana-dascolli @modsnow

[ikleesfiction]

I'm a fucking alcoholic (with a sweet tooth)

Fandom : Chicago PD TV Word count : 1,623 words Pairing : Jay Halstead x reader Author's note : This is the third one shot of "Will you follow through if I fall for you" fic continuation. It would be better if you read it first. But if you don't, here's the quick summary. Warning : It's fluff. I hope it doesn't end up too cringy?

Disclaimer

◢◤

It is a cold Friday in Chicago. You would say it is super cold since you worked in the warm weather of Los Angeles last week. Jay is coming over to your place after work. Now both of you are snuggling on the couch, watching movies on TV.

"I cannot watch this part," You hide your face in Jay's chest, preparing for the frightening scene. The darkness in the room increases the tension.

"What are you talking about? This is not even a horror movie," Jay looks down at you, bemused.

"Say you! Watching Tom Cruise blowing up a Gallardo distressed me. My soul is crying. It is a nightmare!"

You move out from Jay's embrace to point out the screen where Maggie Q said it is such a nice car. "Yes, it is! Don't do it, Zhen," yell you at the TV.

However, The Lamborghini on screen still went kaboom and was engulfed in fire. "Oh, no!" You put your hand on your heart, feeling devastated.

Jay grins at your silliness, "I'm sorry for your loss," He rubs your back, offering his condolences. However, his smile turns flirty. "If there's anything I can do to ease your pain..."

You play along with his idea. "Hmm, is that so?" Your hands wrap around Jay, pulling him closer. Your nose is tracing his neck, up to his jaw, his cheek. Your lips softly grace his skin, make their way closer to his. Jay wasted no time to kiss you and keep kissing you.

You don't know how long it goes, and you don't care to know. Until Jay moves back abruptly, tilting his head away from you, "Your pho..."

Your lips cut his words as you get on his lap. Jay puts his hands on your waist to stop you, halfheartedly, "Babe, your phone is ringing,"

Your hands curl behind his neck. "Let it ring." You whisper to his ear. Jay shudders when he feels your breath on his neck. Your mouth soon follows to make a mark on the same point. Jay tries to hold himself back from reciprocating the gesture.

Unlike Jay and his work, you got no obligation to pick up your phone. No life or death depends on you tonight. But the phone keeps shrieking. It started to annoy you because Jay stops participating in this make-out session.

"Might be important," This is one of the rare times you want to curse Jay's occupation.

"I assure you it won't be," You try to get Jay back in the game.

"Well, at least you can tell them to call you back later," Jay lands a soft kiss on your forehead. With a loud sigh, you move away from Jay's lap to pick up your phone.

Seeing the caller ID frustrates you even further. "You are interrupting our date night," is the first thing you say to your best friend, Alex, when you receive the call and put it on speaker.

"Hi, Jay!" Alex chirps his greeting, ignoring your complaint.

Jay greets back with a chuckle, "Hey, man. Nice to hear from you," He takes the remote to pause the movie, where Tom Cruise is gunning a Mercedes CLK down the road.

"No, it's not." You grumble under your breath. "What's up? Did you just come up with a song idea that would make Bruno Mars wished he wrote it?"

As a fellow songwriter/producer, you understand that song inspiration could come anytime. But it would still piss you off if Alex insists on working for it tonight.

"Not yet. But we do have a potential project for you,"

"Couldn't it wait until next week?" You moan your refusal. "Jay and I got plans for the weekend,"

"Of course. As long as you promise to pick up your phone when Angelique calls. I know you have been dodging her." Alex chides you.

Huffing your aversion, you lay your head on Jay's lap. In reflex, he plays with your hair. "Who's Angelique? A new talent?" Jay never heard that name before. He is pretty sure that he knows everybody at Pyramid, Alex's record label in Amsterdam where you work for.

Alex starts to explain, "She is a singer. Been around for a while,"

"Country singer, turned bubblegum pop singer, and now I guess she wants to try dance music as well?" You elaborate to Jay and asking Alex at the same time. You have written and produced songs from various genres, but your notable works so far are mostly EDM.

"Maybe," Alex answers casually.

"Angelique..." Jay ponders for a moment before lighting up, "Oh! Is she the one whose songs you keep skipping whenever they pop up, babe?"

Your best friend lets out a big laugh from the other side of the phone. "Angelique wants Y/N to produce her next album, but all of a sudden Y/N here cannot find the receive button on her phone," Alex emphasizes his sarcasm.

"I took yours, didn't I?"

However, Alex begins his interrogation. "Why are you avoiding her calls anyway?"

"I don't wanna work with her," You know you sound petulant.

"Come on, Y/N, it would be great! Angelique's third album sold triple more than her second. Her last single went neck to neck with Taylor Swift's song. Now, she is gonna let you work on her fourth album! Other producers would kill for this opportunity," Alex tries to reason.

Jay whistles, being impressed by the story.

"Well, my boyfriend here is a cop. I don't wanna get involved in any criminal activity," You are intentionally being obtuse. "If it were so great, why don't you do it? You're the one who still works on stage."

"You know people talked about how you could be the next Max Martin, right? Made sense that she asked for you," Alex states. "Angelique doesn't need another artist to perform with her. She needs someone who writes and produces good stuff."

"Every producer could be the next Max Martin if they work hard," You shrug the notion.

Jay looks confused with all these new names. "And Max Martin is...?"

"We are never ever ever getting back together?" Alex starts singing a couple bars to show Jay some examples of Max Martin's works.

"Uh..." Jay doesn't show any recognition.

"ou make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream?" Alex sings another song. Your best friend is nothing but persistent.

"Uhm.." And yet, Jay is still clueless.

"Jay is not keeping up with pop music for the last decade, Lex," You joke to your best friend. "Try some songs from the Backstreet Boys,"

"Hey!" Jay protests. "I know your songs," He smirks at you in full smug. "Especially the ones that were written about me."

You laugh at his adorable and sexy smirk. Sitting up from Jay's lap, you kiss the smug out of him.

"Guys, I'm still here." The flat tone of Alex on the phone stops Jay from taking the kiss further.

You peck a corner of Jay's lips one more time. "Your own fault. Who told you to call during our date night anyway?"

"Since I'm not there to poke and pinch you, I hope Jay could help me convince you to take this project." Your best friend is shameless.

"Is Angelique not a good person or something?" Jay tries to understand the situation. He knows you are a hard worker. It is rare for you to run off from a big project like this. "She ought to be a good singer, right? With all of that achievements,"

You cross your arms and glare at your boyfriend, "It is a prerogative to hate your best friend's exes, no?"

Jay frowns, "Wait, Angelique is Alex's ex?"

"Oh, come on!" groans Alex. "It was years ago!"

"You know how the saying goes. Quote-unquote, "You are my friend. She is your ex. You get to forgive and move on. I get to hold a grudge until I die”

"That was kinda harsh," Jay comments.

"Your best friend still hates me until now, Jay." You roll your eyes at your boyfriend.

"Mouse doesn't hate you. I even haven't got a chance to tell him about you since he's been deployed," Jay raises his eyebrows.

"She meant your work partner," Alex answers Jay for you.

Jay frowns deeper, "Hailey doesn't hate you."

"Wanna bet on that?" You challenge him.

Alex prevents the couple from bickering further, "Guys, listen! Angelique and I broke up amicably. There were no hard feelings between us now,"

"Excuse you!" You exclaim. "I still remember those dark days. You cried over so many Tequila bottles. And those boxes of chocolate!! Why did we have to consume that much chocolate over a breakup?? My waistline did not come back to its original measurement for three months!!"

Jay lets out an amused snort.

"Oh, you don't get to talk, man!" Alex hits the couple back. "Your temporary breakup also forced me to replenish my Jenever stocks! I got bakeries phone numbers on speed dial for chocolate cake emergencies!"

Jay puts his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. You guys continue to discuss business," He stands up from the couch. "I'm gonna go warm up some pie," Jay gestures to the kitchen area. "Alex, it's nice to catch up with you. Hope the next time we talk, it would be more social and less about business,"

"And you, love, try to listen to what Alex offers first before you cut him off," Jay bends down to kiss your lips teasingly. "Please don't pull out any bottles with more than 40% alcohol content. I need you sober for our plans tonight." He winks at you before moving to the kitchen, leaving you to deal with your pushy best friend alone.

+x Taglist +x

@lorenakaspersen @life-treatments @itsdesiree86

Foot Note: - Tom Cruise and Maggie Q blew up a Lamborghini Gallardo in Mission: Impossible III (2006). All of the MI movies are classics in my household. - Max Martin is a Swedish record producer, songwriter. You might not know his name, but I'm sure you know his songs. In reference to this fic, he co-wrote and co-produced Taylor Swift's "We are never ever ever getting back together", co-wrote Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream", co-wrote and co-produced some of Backstreet Boys' biggest hits. - "You are my friend. She is your ex. You get to forgive and move on. I get to hold a grudge until I die" line is taken from Henrietta Wilson on 9-1-1 TV Series S02E04 "Stuck". I thought it was hilarious. The line became the reason for this particular fic's existence.

I'm sorry for the long note. Thank you for reading this fic and the note. You are so welcome to reply, ask or tag me. We can talk about music, series or Jesse Lee Soffer's abs. :p

[oathofoaksart]

LEGION OF SUPERHEROES/DC OC: AMELIE “ZEPHYR” GWIN

bio under the cut!!

General Name: Amelie Gwin A.K.A: Zephyr; Zeph, Zephy, Amma Age: 16 [S1], 18 [S2] Gender: Cisgender Female Orientation: Biromantic Bisexual Occupation: Founder Legionnaire  

Race: Metahuman Location: Legion of Superheroes Headquarters; Earth Hometown: New Metropolis, USA; Earth

Relations Parents: Sinclair (deceased) and Cornelia Gwin Siblings: Sable, Kahlo, and Drexel Gwin Friends: Chuck “Bouncing Boy” Taine, Imra “Saturn Girl” Ardeen, Luornu “Triplicate Girl” Durgo, Tinya “Phantom Girl” Wazzo, Clark “Superman” Kent, Brainiac 5, Brin “Timberwolf” Londo, Galatea @generalfandomsofthefreak​, Reep “Chameleon Boy” Daggle, Rokk “Cosmic Boy” Krinn Partner/s: Garth “Lightning Lad” Ranzz (ev.); Mekt "Lightning Lord" Ranzz (AU) Misc.: Mekt Ranzz, Ayla Ranzz Affiliations: The Legion of Superheroes

Appearance Skin: Medium Fair, rosy undertones Hair: Jet black Eyes: Black; turn fully white when concentrating a heavy attack Height: 5’1” Build: Generally small, but limber; similar to a cheerleading flyer Distinctions: Considered averagely cute; often told she has big, pretty eyes. While she’s rarely out of uniform anymore, she has what’s considered a “tomboy-ish” style.

Personality

Energetic | Playful | Dedicated | Impulsive | Brash

Type: ESFP-A (The Entertainer) Temperament: Sanguine-Choleric Alignment: Chaotic Good

Lively, loud, fun-loving; Amelie takes the role of being the Legion’s resident jokester. Even during dangerous situations, Amma is given to flippant (and most of the time, cringe-worthy) wisecracks and one-liners, staying relaxed and seemingly carefree all the while. She’s shameless flirt, constantly spouting lame pick up lines to anyone she sees as the least bit attractive (although she does very poorly at actually getting a date). Despite her general goofiness, she’s incredibly dedicated to the Legion cause and her fellow Legionnaires, giving her 100% and beyond.

Amma’s happy-go-lucky attitude is for the most part, for the sake of relieving the stress that the life of a hero often brings. Not just for herself, but for her friends as well, however it’ll occasionally blow up in her face. While she might not mean to, she has a habit of coming across as immature and reckless, especially compared to the other founding Legionnaires. Over the years, this had started to shape into a suppressed inferiority complex that when exposed, leads to sporadic and intense clashes with others.

Powers/Advantages

Amelie uses air manipulation as an offset of telekinesis, maneuvering the air in and/or around objects she moves them to her will, including herself, enabling flight without the use of her Legion flight ring. She can also manifest her aerokinesis in strong gusts, whirlwinds, and gales. By controlling air waves, Amelie is capable of sound amplification and negation.  

Like all Legionnaires, Amelie owns a Legion flight ring, which enables flight outside of her natural metagene, provides communication between other Legionnaires, can emit light like a flashlight, and protects the wearer from the vacuum of space. The Legionnaire belt works as a cloaking device.

Amelie is unable to create her own atmosphere, she can only use the air that's already available; her powers are rendered useless in a vacuum. They’re also tied a bit closely to her emotions, she has a hard time reeling them in if her emotions get the best of her.

Biography

Amelie was first born to Sinclair and Cornelia Gwin, followed three years later by all male triplets. The Gwins lived a happy existence, making their living off the small but successful restaurant under Sinclair’s name. Amma was an active, sporty girl throughout all of elementary and middle school and from a young age was smitten with the idea of running the restaurant when she was old enough. Her parents were loving and doting of her and her brothers, but she was particularly close to her father, who was known for his jolliness and all around silliness.  

Tragedy struck the Gwins when Amma was twelve, her father was caught in the middle of an armed robbery while closing the restaurant. Sinclair was found dead at the scene. The Gwins stumbled at the sudden blow, Cornelia scrambled to not only trying to keep herself from falling apart, but console her children while keeping the business stable. Seeing her mother doing her best to keep everything cohesive, Amma did her best as the eldest of the children to comfort her brothers and help in any way she could in the restaurant.

The incident of her father’s murder molded much of her personality. She loved her father dearly and his death devastated her, but instead of allowing herself the time to grieve she took up Sinclair’s jovial disposition. She forced herself to stay strong for her family, shoving any of her own trauma down where no one could see it, and instead focused on trying to brighten everyone else’s day. 

The stress of keeping up her mask of cheeriness eventually came too much not more than a few months after Sinclair’s death. A particularly nasty crying spell came to a crux, alone in her room, Amma felt as if everything was too much and too soon, her feelings erupted. She didn’t realize the roar in her ears wasn’t just her blood rushing, but that her room had been seized by a whirlwind, ripping through posters and hurling around furniture. The noise alerted her mother, who came rushing to her daughter’s side, which proved nearly disastrous. The storm correspond to Amma’s emotions, who was now in a panic, as the wind tore the roof off and sent both Amma and Cornelia sailing through the clouds.

Amma, in what should have been a futile effort, imagined that they’d somehow make it down safely. When the force of the impact never came, the mother and daughter opened their eyes to see they were hovering unharmed over the remains of their house, the triplets staring up at them in awe.

Amma, due to the stress of grief that went unchecked, activated her own metagene.

The Gwins made their home at the restaurant, loyal customers and helpful neighbors contributed in making the place comfortable for them with generous donations. Meanwhile, Amma experimented with her new found abilities, all under the careful eye of her mother. While abilities such as her own was no longer too outside the norm in the 31st century, Amma couldn’t fight the feeling that her powers could perhaps make a difference, instead of having them just thrown under the rug as a quirk.

She developed the habit of dropping by the remaining superhero museums, Superman and the Flash, as they were the first few who came to time with abilities that helped the world. The prospect of being a hero herself was something that called her greatly, but Amma couldn’t think up a way to start. Her chance would appear however, just a little after her thirteenth birthday.

Once again roaming through the Superman Museum, Amma encountered three kids right around her age, huddled far off to the corner of the building. Experience in having three younger brothers who were more often than not up to no good, Amma tried out a new trick she had been practicing. By keeping together the air waves from their voices a longer distance, she was able to carry their conversation to where she was staying, essentially eavesdropping. What she thought was three kids potentially plotting to trash the museum was actually plan on solving the conspiracy behind the threat over billionaire, R.J Brande’s, head.

Amma practically forced herself into the conversation, much to the surprise of the other three. A Braalian with magnetic manipulation, Rokk Krinn, a Titinian telepath, Imra Ardeen and Winathian electrokinetic, Garth Ranzz. Rokk, Imra and Garth were skeptical of Amma, who shoved herself into their plans with no sense of the danger to come. She won them over however, by showing them her own abilities, namely, her flight and the ease of transportation it would bring. And so the four became a rag-tag team of heroes, coming together to save R.J Brande.

Brande was grateful for their quick-thinking and selflessness and in return now helps fund their team of defenders, The Legion of Superheroes.  

Amelie goes by Zephyr, a senior Legionnaire, and fights so that the galaxy can be safe from the likes of the Fatal Five and that no one should have to experience her loss.

Notes

Zephyr is a skilled cruiser pilot, since her abilities are void in space, she didn't want rendered useless. Her fighting style bleeds into her piloting, very quick on her reflexes.

Amma prefers to float everywhere rather than have her feet touch the ground, reason being she’s the second shortest member of the Legion and it’s hard to tell when she’s in the air.

One of the few things Amma takes with extreme caution is kitchen duty, she’s taken the title of the Legion’s Head Chef. Other Legionnaires take scheduled shifts helping her set up meals for the day. She’s surprisingly stern when it comes to the kitchen, from food preparation to cleanliness.

She’s notorious for developing inconvenient crushes, such as with a constant thorn in the Legion’s side, Mekt Ranzz, and far beyond her league, the President of United Planets, Winema Wazzo

Amma is well aware of her status as a founder, but dislikes drawing respect out through it. However, she does wish that her fellow founders took her a little more seriously, something that causes friction mostly between Cosmic Boy and herself.

She had originally named herself Gale Girl when the Legion first came to be, but with Imra, Luorno and Tinya’s hero names all ending in “Girl” as well, Amma wanted to stand out. Zephyr looks and sounds cool.

[lindorthedragonslayer]

Aerith/Cloud’s Resolution Scene ✨

Normally, I like just reading other people’s thoughts on things, but since this scene, and Aerith herself are so tragically underappreciated, I decided to contribute to the conversation myself. :)

Warning: “there will be monsters.” (I.e. there will obviously be spoilers for FFVII Remake, but also the original game - based on my vague childhood memories of it, anyhow - Advent Children, and defs some Clerith bias shining through, so if that ain’t your cup of tea, please scroll away~) 

This scene was one of my absolute FAVOURITES in the remake because - on top of it being both visually, and musically stunning, as well as amazingly well-acted - I felt like it showcased Aerith, and Cloud’s characters, and their dynamic SO incredibly well. 

⁑ On Aerith ⁑

First, there’s Aerith. At the start of the scene, Aerith is her usual spirited self. When Cloud asks if she’s okay, she immediately reassures him, telling him that being back at Shinra was like “going back to [her] childhood home,” that it wasn’t "that bad,” even though that was far from the truth. Similarly when Cloud informs her that her “mom’s really worried, too,” Aerith, true to form, latches onto the chance to further lighten up the mood by teasing him about the unsaid sentiment that he was also worried about her (although this unexpectedly backfires on her).

Time, and again, it is implied that Remake!Aerith knows details that she shouldn’t, and the outcome of events that haven’t transpired yet (maybe the Whispers showed her glimpses of the future like they did with Cloud, and co.?). So, I believe that it is her awareness of her tragic fate paired with her own grief over suddenly losing her mom, Zack - and now Elmyra, and her home, too -  that prompts her to deliver her hauntingly beautiful speech about cherishing the present moment, to express her heartfelt gratitude to Cloud for all the happiness he’d given her, and to say her iconic “you can’t fall in love with me” line. She knows perfectly well how devastating it is to suddenly lose someone precious to you, so she tries to find a way to both prepare Cloud for that seeming inevitability, and also prevent him from getting too attached to her, and experiencing the same profound sense of loss she has because of her. 

I think it’s so sad, yet beautiful how Aerith’s loneliness is at the very heart of so many of her words, and actions. Aerith is so spirited, and lively, so full of life, because, to her, the girl who suffered so many great, and sudden losses, each, and every moment is “so precious, and fleeting.” Because of her early childhood, she learned to find, and appreciate the little joys in life, and the good in the people around her - even, and especially when neither were immediately apparent. This sad, pure girl, who is so touched by people simply seeking her out to be with her, works so hard to ensure, and protect the happiness, and lives of those precious to her, even if it comes at the cost of her own. 

⁑ On Cloud ⁑

Then, there’s Cloud. In this scene, Cloud refuses to go along with Aerith’s charade: he calls her out on her “childhood home” lie; ignoring her teasing tone, he sincerely admits to being worried about her; and, he listens attentively to what she does honestly say, encouraging her to continue speaking, even when she’s uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

For the very first time in the story, the seemingly aloof Cloud actually takes a firm stance on something, and even fights for it. When Aerith tells him “not to fall in love with [her],” that his feelings for her “[aren’t] real,” Cloud responds with,  “Don’t I get a say in all this?” With this curt response, Cloud actually asserts himself for a change. Cloud, the boy who, up until now, never really bothered to correct anyone’s (often misguided) impressions of him, who repeatedly chose to drop matters, and distance himself instead. Who later has an identity crisis, and doubts whether, or not “Cloud Strife,” and all his thoughts, feelings, and memories are truly real, and his, and not something Sephiroth simply created. Right here, and now, for the very first time, Cloud interjects, gets annoyed, and stands up for himself when someone tries to decide how he feels, and keep him away.  

And then, Cloud, the boy who coped with social rejection all this time by setting himself apart, reacts to Aerith’s attempt to push him away by taking a page from Aerith’s own book: he holds his ground, and further inserts himself into her life. “I’m coming for you.” This quiet, but firm resolution of his marks the beginning of Cloud’s journey to becoming the hero, and person he always wanted to be, I think. Previously, Cloud simply, and begrudgingly went with the flow: while he helped Avalanche, Jessie, T*fa, and Aerith (because “he’s a merc,” and, a good guy at heart), he never offered his own input on matters, and always yielded to their decisions, even if he wasn’t too keen on it himself. However, taking Aerith back from Shinra was so immensely important to him; it was a cause he decided to fight for all on his own, regardless, and in spite of everyone’s (Aerith, Elmyra, T*fa, Barret’s) contrary stances on the matter, and a cause that he gradually started calling all of the shots for. By the end of the mission, and game, the others actually look to Cloud for direction on what to do next, cementing his role as the leader of their ragtag group.

⁑ On Cloud & Aerith/Clerith ⁑

Now what I’ve always loved about Aerith, and Cloud’s relationship with each other is that - whether you see it romantically, or platonically - their connection is based on an easy friendship that brought both of them so much happiness, comfort, courage, and strength. Their bond with each other wasn’t built on any epic, world-shattering event that brought them together, but rather on a thousand quiet, little moments that they chose to share together.    

For Aerith, who was weighed down by so much sorrow, and unwanted responsibility, Cloud was someone who gave her so much to smile, and fight for. With Cloud, she was able to just let loose, and really live: being with him allowed her to be her true cheeky, mischievous, and energetic self without any restraints; to adventure in, and be part of the outside world she longed for without fear. At the same time, Cloud inspired her to be a little more open, and vulnerable, as well as to face her Cetra heritage head on in order to save the Planet that he, and all her loved ones live on - two huge shifts for her as someone accustomed to hiding behind a smile, and turning away from trouble. 

Likewise, for Cloud, Aerith was someone who both accepted him for exactly who he was, while also inspiring him to be better. When presented with Cloud’s cold, and distant SOLDIER facade, Aerith wasn’t deterred in the slightest; in fact, she became even more determined to stick by his side, and get him to open up to her. Through her relentless teasing, silly antics, and steadfast friendliness, Aerith quickly broke down many of the walls Cloud built around himself, encouraging him to just be himself without any pretenses. After meeting Aerith, Cloud was inspired to do so many things he previously scoffed at, like taking a break, and being more actively involved with others. In Aerith’s company, Cloud was happy, and showed that he did actually care in his own awkward, clumsy way. However, Aerith didn’t “fix” Cloud with her love, nor did she make herself the centre of his universe: she simply stubbornly stayed by his side, which encouraged him to really appreciate, and rely on the people around him, work through his issues himself, and even save the Planet.   

All in all, I believe that Aerith, and Cloud’s resolution scene perfectly captured every aspect of their relationship together. As usual, they’re initially shown directly across from each other, gazes locked, but choosing to close the distance between them. It’s a quiet moment where nothing particularly major, or dramatic happens - even the music is quiet, and gets quieter still at its climax. Yet, there’s so much love evident in every little moment, and gesture they make: they inspire honesty in each other, give each other the motivation to face another day, and once again make their desire to be together for just a little bit longer so heartbreakingly obvious. Furthermore, Cloud’s later claims about being someone who cherishes everything, and being okay because he isn’t alone anymore are so reminiscent, I think, of Aerith’s monologue here, proving that he really did take her words to heart.  

Despite the game’s purposeful ambiguity in the romance department (lest they make multiple version of the same scene, or have Cloud come off as a player), it is still clear that, as friends, or lovers (this part is up to personal interpretation, and preferences), Cloud, and Aerith’s bond with one another is one that brought them so much happiness, and strength, making it one of the most precious ones they have. In a game that heavily highlights contrasts, Cloud, and Aerith are an example of how opposite personalities can complement each other so well, making it all the more beautiful, and tragic. That’s what I believe, anyway. 

[strangebrews]

tea for two

Summary:  After nearly two hours of preparation, Alfie was finally ready. The table was set, the tea was brewed, and the poison watched at the end of the counter. That was Alfie’s source of entertainment. // Alfie engages in tea party Russian roulette that he himself organized. Tommy, eventually, reacts.

Notes: i had a tiny idea regarding alfie organizing lethal tea parties for funsies a while back, and it became this. also thank you to @sholomons + @those-peakyboys for reading bits of this as a sanity check <3

Warnings: Suicidal Ideation/Suicide Scare/Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms/ - those are the main ones, but if you think there should be more let me know. The rest of them can be found on the AO3 post. I promise this isn’t some devastating ending though, lmao, technically is supposed to be //romantic// in a twisted Tommy Shelby way.

On AO3

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

Alfie indulged in the art of organizing tea parties later in life, once the crime became routine and uninspiring.

The idea came to him one afternoon, while thumbing through the day’s post. He was struck by a revelation, of sorts, “yeah, because when I went to pick up my cup, right,” he had described the moment to Tommy in detail, “I noticed that there, at the very bottom where the tea leaves floated—there was a message.” His eyes had narrowed, voice low, fingers motioning in the air trying to conjure up the image, “and you know what they were saying to me, those leaves, Tommy—they were saying Alfie, you have got to stop hanging around that Shelby—his witchcraft and madness are starting to rub off on you ” he’d cackled then, which meant the origins would remain unexplained. 

Alfie did, however, commit himself to the task. 

He decided the event would take place in his dining room, using the hand-carved table featured there. Tommy watched him prepare from afar the day of the first tea party. He did not endorse the fucking behavior, but he was curious—it was rare to see Solomons fuss over plate placements.

A frilly tablecloth was dug out from the back of a cupboard, and freshly picked flowers decorated the middle. Alfie used his best porcelain set—the one he claimed was the last heirloom still in his possession from the mother’s side of his family. That bit was a lie, he had admitted to Tommy one day. Instead, he had Ollie scavenge it from some shop window with a sock over his head and tears in his eyes—but that tale was far less interesting. And the foundational role of any host, Alfie knew, was to entertain his esteemed guests.

Tiny silver spoons—ones which nearly disappeared in Alfie’s hand—lay atop carefully folded napkins. He drew the shades, and arranged the biscuits, lips pursed in concentration. The scene looked quite pretty, actually. Meticulously organized—an unexpected detail coming from Alfie Solomons. 

And after nearly two hours of preparation, Alfie was finally ready. The table was set, the tea was brewed, and the poison watched at the end of the counter. 

That was Alfie’s source of entertainment. 

  +++

  His guests were an array of different people. Old friends, new enemies, long standing members of his payroll, a few of the fanciest individuals he knew—each person with some form of stain on their record, at some point having wronged him. Alfie was not entirely cruel. 

“It’ll be a shame,” he had said, “but everyone dies at some point, yeah?”

The trick about the poison was that it took a while to pollute the veins. Alfie had considered this detail as thoughtfully as he had the decorations—determined to avoid frothing mouths from ruining the appeal of his parties. The winners would appear fine until the next morning, so the poison was untraceable in both taste and source. 

For a while, at least. Though even if the pieces were eventually slotted together—who would be brave enough to accuse an aging man of serving tea?

“It just might be genius, Tommy.” Alfie had lifted the vial towards him, eyes glazed over with self-admiration. Going after him would look ridiculous, Alfie knew this. Tommy knew this, and he smiled besides himself. Perhaps it was.

And as any good host, Alfie partook in the activity himself—an equal player in the game. A few clear drops coated the bottom of a cup, the cups were mixed up, the location was forgotten.

The fact that Alfie had grown desensitized towards his own death was no shock—he and Tommy shared the same indifference. Though what Tommy struggled to understand was his sudden interest in openly pursuing it. 

Though, didn’t they do that already? Alfie had asked. Their years brimmed with pacts, vindictive partners, with mouthing off to men whose fingers trembled against triggers. They had never run in the opposite direction of death, rather alongside it—the place where their paths would converge had always been just along the horizon. Alfie’s behavior was nothing but a variation of that.

“More creative.” he had claimed—better than being killed by a gun or a knife, “Or by a blade sewn into a fucking hat. Imagine that.” he smirked. It was only funny because they were past killing each other now—Alfie had beaten Tommy to the initiative.

+++

  Of course, the cordial invitation had been extended to Tommy Shelby as well.

“And how have I wronged you?” Tommy had asked. Alfie laughed, promising it would be a clean cup, but Tommy refused regardless. The whole matter was much too dramatic for his taste.

He would stay the night of the tea party, though—was due for a fuck, anyway. 

-

In truth, Tommy had been staying the night more frequently. 

It was Alfie who had initially offered to move the location of their meetings . The official reason he’d cited was for more security, but Tommy had seen him holding his back in pain each time he’d stepped out of the office. 

Fucking in a bed, as opposed to on a desk, toed the line with an intimacy Tommy was cautious about crossing, but the suggestion was too enticing to refuse—aging had not been doing either of them any favors. And because it was Alfie who had made the proposal, Tommy still had room to cut himself free of any strings attached.

The routine had continued as usual at first—business, fuck, leave. Tommy would gather his clothes frantically afterwards, hopping out the door with only one sock on. He was terrified of the implications staying longer would have—the consequences it could bring.

Though that chaos eventually transitioned into a slower collection of his belongings—fatigue and the haze of his orgasm tethering him to the bed. He stayed for longer, counted the cracks in Alfie’s ceiling and the number of stripes on his sheets. These extra moments seemed progressively less threatening. 

“Are you truly that desperate to return to that lonely fucking castle of yours, mate?” The question came months later, while Tommy sat on the side of the bed, rubbing the stiffness from his legs. He was startled by the voice—Alfie tended to slip into a slumber nearly immediately after they’d pulled away from each other. 

Lonely castle. It sounded worse when phrased that way. A kingdom crafted at the expense of everyone around him. Pitiful.

Tommy had not entertained Alfie with an answer, but still chose to lay back down—comforted by the idea of a few more hours of sleep. He left the next day wordlessly, and sleeping over became routine. The castle would still be standing in the morning.

Yet that change didn’t mean anything, Tommy reasoned. Whether he permitted himself to stay or not, it was still just fucking —nothing more complicated than that. 

So perhaps it’d be a shame if Alfie finally won one of his rounds, Tommy thought the evening of that first tea party—his business would be missed. But he remained, on the whole, unbothered by it.

Everyone died at some point.

+++

  Each chair was occupied with an esteemed guest the first time. They were all impressed by the sudden burst of hospitality—thankful for Alfie’s unspoken forgiveness of their past transgressions against him. 

Assumption was quite lethal. 

Meaningless chatter swelled the air in the room, shrill laughter echoing off of the walls. Alfie floated from place to place, offering stories and more food, savoring each one of his sips.  He chuckled often, rolled his eyes on cue, and held his pinky up.

It was a performance, yet no one in attendance was aware they were a part of the show. 

He caught their attention in particular with a story from before the war. Something to do with a stray dog, an appalled mother and a wet carpet—certain elements of which were exaggerated. “Oh Alfie!” he’d felt a small pat on his shoulder, a gesture which in any other circumstances would have earned the person a cut on the cheek, but Alfie simply smiled and patted back. It could be you . 

Alfie found excitement in it all—an ironic strengthening of the energy which had been slowly draining from his body. 

It was nearly enough to forget about the cancer.

-

Cancer could have been considered a motive—it was the letter from the doctor speculating about his expiration date which had sparked the inspiration for the tea party business. Though Alfie didn’t like to dwell on that coincidence. Much rather preferred to keep the reason as Alfie’s sudden burst of twisted thrill-seeking . Not that anyone would know about the sickness, regardless—Thomas Shelby included. He fully intended to live out these days undisturbed by sympathy.

He came to bed that night with cheeks flushed and things to say. Granted, Alfie always had a mouth full of words, but they were stories this time—things he’d seen and heard. Tommy had propped himself up against the headrest, pulling on cigarette after cigarette, feigning disinterest. 

A cousin of the Sabini’s had brought Alfie a bottle of wine, he learned. There had been a bit of tea spilling on the carpet sometime in the middle, though it had occurred after a refill, Alfie reassured. Nearly everyone offered some comment about the design on the porcelain, sniffed the flowers, and claimed they had enjoyed themselves in the doorway.

“Silly little puppets, yeah—every last one.” Alfie had laughed and blown the candle on the nightstand out. It was nice, actually, being able to share this bit of secrecy with Tommy. An outlet, of sorts, and it helped that Alfie did not have to truly explain himself to him. 

It was the first night Tommy stayed which did not involve fucking.

+++

Tommy continued accepting the invitations to be an invisible guest. 

Unsurprisingly, one party had not been enough to satiate Alfie’s newfound appetite for this version of Russian roulette and finger sandwiches, so he kept organizing them. It tended to be the same crowd each time, with a few new faces here and there—replacements for any vacant seats. 

Alfie gradually grew fancier—a nicer tablecloth, more biscuits, a larger array of tea. He had different stories to tell, new rings to show off and even Ollie had grown quite fond of the flower picking aspect of his job, asking a few days in advance if he had any preferences. 

Alfie collapsed beside Tommy after the fifth party, exhausted and unwilling to relay the night’s events. It wasn’t necessarily healthy for his back, Tommy had mused—all those hours of wandering around the room, hunched over chairs—but his mouth stayed shut, and they fell asleep in silence. 

-

Even after nights when his insomnia had been generous, Tommy woke first. 

Alfie breathed beside him.

It was a relief, Tommy admitted—spared him the dramatics of having to drag Alfie out from between the sheets himself. He’d imagined that scenario once or twice while waiting on Alfie to stop his entertaining, considering what exactly he would do with Alfie’s body just—laying there. Notify the staff most likely, but he wasn’t quite sure what beyond that. Perhaps shake his hand, or pay his respects through a whispered congratulations , yet Alfie always managed to interrupt that train of thought before anything concrete was decided on. 

He was hesitant to leave the morning after the fifth night, oddly disappointed that Alfie had not shared any stories. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but he decided to wait until Alfie woke. There was time to spare, Tommy argued with himself, it was the weekend—as if that meant anything in this line of business. 

Idling in bed until the moment arrived was out of the question. Roaming his halls also seemed inappropriate—and risky, in case Ollie had let himself in. So Tommy settled on visiting the kitchen to eat. Attempt to, at least.

Preparing food provided only momentary relief from the fact that staying had been an absolutely idiotic idea. Tommy brewed some tea—for the irony, if anything else—and made toast. Some for him, some for Alfie, though he winced at the choice and threw Alfie’s portion in the bin. Too much.

He opened the morning paper. Squirmed in his chair. Checked the time. Returned to reading. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Alfie eventually joined him in the kitchen, sleep still settled on his limbs. His hair was sticking up in uneven tufts, beard flattened on the side he’d been lying on. Nothing indicated he was surprised that Tommy had remained in the house.

“So you’re still here then, eh?” Tommy said, eyes on the news, but desperate to fill the silence.

Alfie only ran a heavy palm across his face. “Yeah, still fucking here.”

+++

  The parties remained successful and Alfie’s enthusiasm persisted. Guests streamed in week after week—whether out of fear or curiousity was unclear. It was quite unusual to be in Alfie Solomon’s presence within an unthreatening environment, but they seemed to appreciate his change in character. 

And the tea was always delicious. 

It was Tommy who suffered the change in opinion, pacing the bedroom with a clenched jaw.  He had certain ideas—to make an appearance, peek through keyholes or press his ear to the door, to somehow interfere—but he cast them all aside.

Time alone had never been healthy for him. Funny, for a man who ensured his own abandonment.

-

 Nervous. The word finally rose above all of the other thoughts at one point and settled bitterly on his tongue. Tommy was nervous. 

“Aren’t you fucking bored of this yet, Alfie?” he asked as casually as possible, in between pulls of his cigarette, but Alfie had shook his head.

“I should have done this sooner.” he claimed, eyes dancing, and for some reason the sentence felt like a slap to the face.

Tommy did not fight back. 

+++

Alfie retired earlier than usual one night, reasoned it was due to a headache. Tommy bit down on his lip to prevent any visible reaction.

He slipped under the covers, hand searching for the band of Tommy’s pants —ar ousal had always reigned above pain for Alfie —but Tommy swatted it away, ignoring the slight tenting. “Not today, Alfie.”

Alfie grunted. It was not necessarily unusual for Tommy to refuse him, though Tommy’s face was flushed, teeth gnawing at the inner flesh of his cheek. There was still potential in the moment.

“But Tommy,” he whispered, sliding up against him, lips grazing Tommy’s neck and fingers playing at his hip. “I may be dead tomorrow.” and he placed a firm kiss to his Adam’s apple. It was only meant to be a teasing remark —nothing more than Alfie’s greedy attempt at extracting a fuck out of the other man—but the words wrapped themselves around Tommy’s throat.

Tommy snatched Alfie by the hair, tearing him away from his skin. Their eyes met, Alfie squirming besides himself under the cold stare. “You might be dead tomorrow.” Tommy repeated, nodding in agreement. Out of reach . 

And he kissed him.

Once. Twice. Grip slowly loosening, hips finally shifting into Alfie’s touch. His hand remained in the hair, the other one snaking around Alfie’s waist, clothes being peeled off feverishly. Alfie’s efforts proved successful.

They fucked that night to the brink of exhaustion, wrapped in the darkness, spent and gasping for air, and when Alfie pulled away, Tommy choked on a please echoing in his throat. 

It was a hollow plea—for something he was too terrified to admit.

+ ++

The following morning after he woke, Tommy lingered in bed.

Alfie snored facing him, rested on top of his left arm. Sleep softened him, Tommy noted—hid the pain behind his eyelids, smoothed the creases from his forehead. He reached out hesitantly to run the backs of his fingers across Alfie’s shoulder, along the shell of his ear, his jaw, tugging down the covers to find his thighs. It was a peaceful moment—rare and terminal—and Tommy was suddenly gripped by an urge to memorize it. Drink in every detail. 

Tommy took advantage of the safety unconsciousness had provided him and settled back down, shifting closer to Alfie’s body—close enough so that the tips of their noses were brushing against one another. He lay still, soaking in the warmth of Alfie’s exhales, and tried to align their breathing. 

The task proved to be more challenging than expected. Tommy stumbled over his own inhales, yet Alfie continued to be one breath ahead of him. Inhale. Exhale . Out of sync. And it was a silly effort, naive and trivial, but Tommy’s heart still hammered at his ribcage in frustration. Because there had to be something there , in the alignment. Some kind of meaning, a mutual understanding shared between their bodies. A form of reassurance. A sign of togetherness —that Tommy was not fucking mad for wanting to share these breaths with Alfie for longer than the bastard had planned for himself.

But each attempt sputtered and failed.

He slammed his fist into the mattress and rolled off the bed, waking Alfie in the process.

-

The toast was burnt that morning. 

No tea— fuck tea. 

Alfie walked into the kitchen, rubbed a palm across his face instinctively. The regular question never arrived, but he answered its ghost regardless. “Still here.”

Yes , Tommy thought, miraculous . 

He left for Birmingham immediately after breakfast, and abandoned his tendency of visiting Alfie in between the special occasions. He would know when the next party would be—the invitation would arrive in the post a few days before it.

+++

A week later, there were only 16 people in attendance, two couples were missing. Whether they had grown suspicious or were dead was left unclarified—Alfie was only interested in one outcome. 

The event proceeded as usual: eat, laugh, sip, Alfie refilling his cup more frequently than usual. Nobody questioned the absence. It was normal.  

And then it was not, because Tommy Shelby walked into the room — eyes bloodshot, scanning the scene. 

There was a 1 in 16 chance that Alfie poisoned himself today, Tommy noted, but he had endured this night after night and he found he’d grown quite bored of the adrenaline. The uncertainty. So he took a stand at the head of the table this time around, his hand hidden behind his coat.

It was meant to be a distraction, perhaps a form of confession —anything to get Alfie to stop these fucking games. Whispers swept the room, mouths parted in surprise—it was a rare occurrence, seeing Tommy Shelby in attendance—and Alfie sighed, because he knew, he fucking knew that Thomas was here to spoil the fun. 

The gun pointed to Tommy’s head, and Tommy’s head pointed towards Alfie.

“One,” 15 pairs of alarmed eyes stared at Tommy’s finger on the trigger. Only 1 pair glared back into his own. Alfie refused to set the teacup down.

“Have you gone fucking mad, mate?” Tommy had actually heard they called this love . 

“Two.” The guests were moving, tripping over chairs, rugs, each other, searching frantically for the exit. The taboo of witnessing a potential suicide outweighed their curiousity, it seemed. So easy to clear a room.  

The doors slammed shut, silence replacing the sound. It was empty now. Just him, and Alfie, and the gun, and the poison laughing out from one of the cups. 

“Three.” Bang.

Tommy’s body crumpled to the floor.

-

He was lying half underneath the table when Alfie finally walked over. His eyes were wide open. Unscathed.

Alfie snatched the gun from his hand, clicked open the cylinder. “Tommy, you know, you’re not fucking invited to the next one, yeah?” the first shot had been a blank, but there was a single bullet inside. “Right—on account of the fucking mess you’ve made here today.” 

“I’m well aware, Alfie.” he was tracing the pattern of the table’s wood with a shaky finger. Alfie grunted and tossed the gun aside. He collapsed awkwardly beside him, taking Tommy’s hand into his own. It would weather his joints even further, lying down here on the floor, Alfie was well aware, but this was the only act of affirmation which seemed appropriate. 

He did not ask about the bullet. He knew why it was there. Kept as a precaution—in case Alfie had decided to drink anyway. 

They breathed together. 

[akechicrimes]

tomorrow A-side / tomorrow B-side

@blazhy​ this got so long and im so sorry in advance 😔

the story of the two endings is a whole mess. i set out to write a story where akira and akechi reunite, akira becomes incredibly angry with akechi after reuniting post-royal, and in the original premise, akira just absolutely tears him apart--even moreso than he already does in B-side, because the original conceit was an angry fistfight and then horny makeouts. LMFAO. and then, i think, i vaguely imagined that akira would tell akechi to leave him the fuck alone, at least for a little while, while akira figured his emotions out.

also, i imagined that the story would be about 2-3k long, so as you can see by the fact that both editions of tomorrow are longer than 17k, you can see how this did not work out. LOLOL.

so with this premise in mind, i tried to figure out how they’d get to such a falling-out argument, and started with a external third person pov about the phantom thieves noticing how sad akira was after akechi left. i scrapped that because i feel a type of way about stories that center around validating the main character’s pain, switched to close-third person, started throwing around super mournful, angry, and generally upset paragraphs about how akira felt with akechi gone, which later became the sections nearer to the end (e.g. his dream about akechi’s funeral).

i really liked the strain of “akira daydreams about all the ways that the reunion could go, only for the actual reunion to be a total letdown/wake-up call,” so i kept writing the passages about his daydreams and how they eventually became more and more exhausted from the strain of waiting. and because i kept chasing that thread, it turned into the whole 16k saga that’s up on ao3.

around the midway point, i realized that the original ending wasnt going to work, because the original ending seemed weirdly fantastical and too picture perfect, especially after 16k of words about akira imagining picture-perfect scenarios where everything works out, and it felt wrong to play right into his fantasies of a reunion where things turn out alright.

so about the midway point, i came up with a series of different ideas that later became the B-side ending--rather than necessarily an argument that turned into an emotional reunion, maybe something less fantastical. in one of these endings, akira says he’s tired of being in love with goro, which finally sparks a conversation about their feelings. (i did not write this because it was a hugely guilt trip move on akira’s part. it made sense considering akira’s very very long wait for three years, but it made me want to gag, thinking about akira throwing his feelings at goro like goro is responsible for them.) in another one, akira apologizes for being in love with him (i dont remember WHY this was a thing). these were kind of floating around in my head, but it was ultimately all iterations of “akira and goro have some sort of argument but not in a horny way” at the end of the fic.

so a whole good chunk of the fic was written with an argument ending (essentially B-side) in mind: i wrote the scene in the jazz club with that in mind, as well as the strains in the fic about akira feeling like akechi was the one person he could be honest with, and a bunch of stuff about how much both akechi and akira appreciated and depended on each other to disagree with them.

but by the time i had gotten all my sections in order and written them back to november 2019, when the reunion was supposed to take place, i felt... really weird about the B-side ending. i’d basically dug my own grave, because i’d written 16k of akira slowly realizing that maybe he had to let akechi go after all, and the original ending didnt make any sense. and it felt really weird as an ending for the same reason i scrapped the original premise: it seemed like bad form to play into the idea that they’d reunite and everything would turn out alright, especially after all that time of akira imagining ridiculous and unrealistic lovesick daydreams. it doesnt make any sense to have a story about akira daydreaming and then end with more daydreaming.

*through gritted teeth* so i. had to put on my big boy pants. and admit. that i’d written myself into a corner. and i was narratively obligated. by virtue of pushing back against akira’s silly daydreams. to write an ending. where shuake. does NOT resolve everything. and instead. *grits teeth louder* their reunion goes disastrously. and. they break up. and. *grits teeth loudest* go their separate ways. for the foreseeable future.

i wrote it and was immediately so fucking devastated with my own ending that i DM’d vintgecassette like oh god please read this thing and tell me what you think of the end (please tell me that there is another option) and she was like “no actually this ending makes sense. im crying but it makes sense” to which i dramatically fell upon my knees and had to accept that i’d written SEVENTEEN THOUSAND WORDS about shuake reuniting after royal only to have them IMMEDIATELY BREAK UP.

i hated it instantly. i talked to kat about it some more and told her about the other ending ideas i had, and somewhere in that conversation she said that the B-side ending sounded actually really cool, since there was already lots of good foreshadowing for the ending set in place, and also because goddamn if anyone should open up a bit, it’d be akira “i dont talk about my feelings” kurusu. (again, i wrote most of the fic intending for the B-side to be the ending, so it made sense.) so i was like owo? and pulled all my scrapped content for the B-side back out of the Trash and started reworking it purely out of spite for the A-side, despite the fact that the A-side existed in the first place as a pushback against the B-side.

i think this is a very longwinded way of saying that i posted both endings because i thought both of them, if by itself, was just ridiculous. a sad ending like A-side felt like meaningless sad feelings unless there was a universe where things could have been better. B-side felt unrealistic without acknowledging that things could and maybe should have turned out for the worse. of course, this is just how the endings game to be written, and i think the effect they have is more complicated--ive read some really cool comments on what people feel and think about the endings, and i think all those interpretations all extremely cool and extremely valid.

tldr, i dont actually know how to write and everything was a mistake. thanks for the ask, im sorry again this is so long 😔

ask for the director’s cut on a fic i’ve written

[fireember345]

Tang Shen, Jade the Cat Kunoichi Prompt

A TMNT Prompt

Do not own TMNT

Anyone can use it

 If Tang Shen survived but was sent into a coma, still lost their daughter to Shredder

Tang Shen was scarred by her back that showed even when she mutated

Once his wife woke up, Tang Shen was devastated at the loss of their daughter, Yoshi deciding that it would be best to leave Japan and make a fresh start

Yoshi bought four turtles for his wife, to help her heal when they both discovered the Kraang and that strange ooze

While Yoshi became a rat mutant Splinter, Tang Shen became a calico cat named Jade half her original size while the baby turtles were changed too

Tang Shen/ Jade is a skilled master kunoichi with her weapon of choice being the Kusarigamas

Jade and Splinter decided to raise the turtles as their children in the sewers, becoming their father and mother

While Splinter is strict and wise, Jade is gentle and motherly, making sure the boys played nice and they eat a proper meal

Splinter and Jade often contemplate on the loss of their daughter but are happy with their sons

The turtles call her Mistress Jade

Jade often frets over her sons in constant danger

Leo has a soft spot for his mother as he wanted to make her proud

Jade often embarrassed Raph, telling him it is a mother’s job to and to make sure her sons do not get a big head

Donnie makes trinkets because it brightens Jade’s day

Mickey makes Jade laugh and often enjoys the meals she makes

Jade personally trained April

Though Jade comes off as the oblivious grandmother type, but she is a deadly warrior as her speed and strength is even greater than Splinter’s

Jade’s speed grants her the ability to walk or rather run on water and walls with ease

She often offers cookies and tea to guests and her sons

When she learned about her sons’ stroke with the Shredder, she feared her sons’ safety as she made sure none of the foot were near their home and guilt that this is all her fault

Shredder still believes that Tang Shen died and hated Splinter for that

Sometimes Jade is a tutor to her sons as well and is often much stricter than her husband, though she does it in a more jovial style

When Casey met Splinter and Jade, he was surprised that a cat was married to a rat, pointing out that cats eats rats, earning a tail slap from her husband

Jade often helps Raph calm down with Chamomile Tea with honey

Jade loves drama shows and often watches them

Jade adopted one of the Fear Mushroom Mutants and trained it as her personal pet

Splinter and Jade would often have romantic dates and the turtles get gross out by them being affectionate, like kissing

Jade often gives her son romantic advice to son, saying that even though she was their mother and teacher, she is also a woman

Due to her mutation, she often enjoys catnip, tuna, and milk

When Splinter pointed out that it wasn’t the first time a girl made a fool out of a warrior, Jade told them the story of how Splinter once tried to pluck an apple from a tall tree and landed in an apple barrel, laughing at the memory

When Shredder confronted Splinter, he was shock to learn she was still alive and a mutant, blaming Splinter for it

But Jade told him that she will never love him and that she hated Shredder for what he did to their daughter

Both Splinter and Jade were shocked that their daughter was still alive, but a student of the Shredder

Shredder told Karai that Splinter mutated her mother and brainwashed her

When Karai found out the truth, she met with their parents and Jade told her she could never love Shredder for the hate inside him

When Karai became a snake Shredder blame Splinter, believing that Splinter would turn everyone they love into mutants

Jade was thrilled her daughter was freed by Splinter as she told her that she will always be her daughter, both hers and Splinters

Jade was shocked by the truce by Shredder, saying that she was proud of him letting go of his hated, but she was wrong

Jade joined the Turtles in space, missing her husband

When they traveled back in time, Splinter nearly fell over at the sight of two of his wives, both were poking fun at her silly husband, but his future version of Jade was happy that Splinter survived

Both Jades took down Shredder with Splinter, telling him that he is the true monster

The past Jade went with the boys to make sure they stay out of trouble while the future version stayed with the future version of April, Casey, and her boys

She tells Splinter that their daughter is a grown woman now and needed to respect her decisions, despite Splinter’s right to be worried as a father

Jade was a master to Alopex when she fled from her brother with his tail

Jade tried to sway her from vengeance long ago, but Alopex never listened and left her master

When Jade confronted Alopex when she was about to deal the final blow to her brother, she stopped and apologized to her former master for rejecting her lesson in mercy

When Tigerclaw was going to blast Alopex, Jade cut off his arm with her claws, telling Tigerclaw that he had no honor and Alopex was a better warrior than him

Jade offered Alopex a place to stay, but the fox declined, wanting to find herself

Jade and Splinter were both willing to die together as they fell with the Shredder into the abyss

Splinter Awakes from his hallucination to find an unconscious Jade as he awake her from her nightmares of the Shredder 

Jade often give her daughter advice and tell stories of her youth and father

Karai asks if men are often drooling idiots, Jade smiles and said that only when they are infatuated, which Jade tells her and April that is the most deadly weapons of a Kunoichi, even Splinter can fall under her spell in sparing

Super Shredder was obsessed in finding Jade and Karai then killing them

She was heartbroken when Shredder killed Splinter and fell into a coma once more, only when Super Shredder was slain, did she awake, worrying her sons and daughter that they would lose her too

Jade is visited often by the spirit of her husband as they knew that not even death would separate them

When Shredder was resurrected, all he wanted was to earn the forgiveness of Tang Shen

Right before Shredder sacrifice himself to stop the Demodragon, he looked to Jade and told her that he was sorry and that he still loved her

As Splinter’s spirit was ready to ascend, Jade and he shared a final kiss before he disappeared, her promising to look after their family

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

Happy (Slightly Belated) Birthday, Baghdad Waltz!

*CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BAGHDAD WALTZ UP TO CHAPTER 37*

I know these are stressful times right now, but I wanted to post a little something for BW’s third birthday on 3/13/2020 (and I’m a little late because I had a lot to say). THREE!! I cannot believe it. Truly, I cannot, but here we are. I know there are still a few stragglers hanging around from when I first started posting this story (extra hearts to you all), so many people who have come and gone and sometimes return again, and so many new people joining this crazy journey all the time. 

You are all so great, and you make it possible for me to keep writing this. I probably would have quit a long time ago without your support, because this shit has been quite hard to sustain sometimes. I know I am very bad at keeping up with comments and things, and I’m so sorry.  I am terrible with social media, too. People IRL will say the same thing about me. I am super old school and still talk on the phone with my friends. I KNOW. 

(Heyyyy Bayside High)

I’ve prepared a couple of things for BW’s birthday. First, a few statistics I thought I’d whip up. Then a few questions and answers about BW, both from myself and from my beloved beta, @pitchforkcentral86​. And I’m still trucking away diligently at chapter 38! I just have a few scenes to go. 

 -- BW Statistics -- 

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

Words to date: 526,011

Chapters to date: 37

Shortest chapter: 3,821 words (Prologue)

Longest chapter: 31,395 words (Chapter 33)

Number of words per chapter: 12,530 (median), 14,257 (average) (note: the median is probably a better measure, since this is such an abnormal distribution - see below for the changes in chapter length over time)

Estimated total work to date: 2,890-3,120 hours (approx 18-20 hours/week). This includes writing, rewriting, editing, research, conversations with beta, outlining, and a small portion of the brainstorming. This is a conservative estimate and only includes a fraction of the ambient thinking I do about this story. And God, I do so much processing when I sleep! Perhaps I will be a BW “expert” -- estimated at around 10,000 hours I guess? -- by the time I am done with the story and all my revisions hahahahaaaaaa D: 

Money spent to date (estimated): $600-700. This includes books on various subject matter and writing craft, video access to therapy education resources, and other educational materials. This does not include the incalculable sum in lost productivity from thinking about BW when I’m supposed to be doing other things!

Most of you probably don’t know this, but @pitchforkcentral86​ is not just a beta reader. She is my partner in crime with BW. She knows my characters as well as I do, sometimes better. She helps me troubleshoot scenes, she tells me when my writing sucks, when my I’m not being true to my characters, when I’m not being real enough (sometimes when I’m being TOO real). She gives me porn inspiration and listens to me bitch and calls my bullshit and makes this story what it is. I really mean it - this story would not be nearly as good without her, and you can see how much better it gets once she starts to get involved around chapter 17. 

So I decided I would answer some silly little questions about BW. Just my own personal opinions about stuff! And asked @pitchforkcentral86​ to contribute as well. See below. 

What are my favorite scenes in BW and why? 

In no particular order: 

The 9/11 memory (Chapter 26): When Steve is in therapy with Hope remembering when Bucky returns from Ground Zero. This was one of the first times I experimented with writing in a sort of stream-of-consciousness way (though certainly not the last!). I have done several tweaks to it since the original version, texturing it more. It’s so rich in detail, visceral detail, little details about their relationship, pieces of Bucky’s past, clues about his alcoholism, the way he handles stress, his difficulties letting Steve in, the love Steve has for him, Bucky’s need to be loved and cared for and his aversion for it, it’s so, so rich. Gah. I love it. (GUH and @buckydunpun​’s ART - just murder me. Thanks.)

The Thor “breakup” scene (Chapter 28): This is the moment I think that many people realized Bucky is not a reliable narrator. Maybe they suspected it before, but this is when it’s very obviously apparent. His entire interpretation of his relationship with Thor is thrown into question. He built a rich fantasy about what they were, holding hands in the grass, all this bullshit, and he could actually say they were boyfriends, which makes complete sense because there were never any stakes. It was always surface. There was never any intimacy except as veteran/soldier friends who had sex, which is about as deep as Bucky can go anyway without getting utterly terrified. 

This is in such stark contrast to Steve, where there is actual intimacy, ongoing demand for more intimacy, and this relationship feels VERY real to Bucky, and it’s very frightening to him. And that’s why he runs from the term “boyfriend” with Steve. It’s all so real. It’s easy to engage with a fake boyfriend. But still, he didn’t deliberately realize he was doing this, so it was devastating to find out the truth of his own self-deception. And to hear that he’s not the kind of guy you settle with, he’s the guy you fuck… wow. But how can you really hate Thor? (I’m sure some of you can but…) He’s a nice guy. Even Bucky knows it. So he’s run from something good and real (Steve) to something good but false (Thor) and then he gets rejected from both. It’s horrible and so self-defeating and so quintessentially Bucky. I love it. 

A Close Second (Spent Brass fic): This whole side fic came together like a glorious dream. I love everything about it. It’s such a wonderful look into their relationship, into their dynamics, into their individual personalities, their idiosyncrasies, so much push-pull between them. Whispers of things that have happened to Bucky in the past, a lack of understanding from Steve, a desire to know, so much affection. Some good sex. I love this SB. But I love all the Spent Brass fics. They are so close to my heart. 

Honorable mention: Bucky’s masturbation scene during his bender (Chapter 32). I had an absolute BLAST writing this. Thanks to @pitchforkcentral86​ for proposing that Bucky’s core sexual/romantic desire is just to be kissed. Dayum. It all unfolded from there. 

Who is the character I think about the most? Bucky. I think because he’s got the most complex history and the most complicated psychology. He’s actually fairly rule-bound in terms of how he operates, but he’s got a lot of back story that explains how he became the way he is, and I spend a lot of time considering what happened to him and how he developed his self-image, his coping strategies, and his ideas about others and the world. I think a lot about his relationship with his parents. I think a LOT about bby Jamie. It’s not because Steve is not important or any less complex. But Bucky’s childhood experiences have shaped him in very specific ways, and I want to make sure that I represent them very thoughtfully. 

Who is my favorite character to write? Bucky. His voice and thought processes come to me more easily than Steve’s. Perhaps in part because of my personal penchant for the word “fuck.” I love writing his perspective, his preferences, his interpretations of situations. I love imagining the way he imagines the world. 

Who is my favorite supporting character? Winnie. I know she’s a very polarizing character, but I have so much affection for her. I think she’s a badass. She joined the military as a female officer back in the 1970s, which is incredible and rough. She kept her maiden name. This is a Southern conservative woman, an Air Force brat, raised by very conservative Southern people in a very conservative Pentecostal church, but she has always had an irrepressible rebellious, feminist badass streak in her even before she knew what feminism was. She might not even define herself as a feminist now. She has always done the best she can under very difficult circumstances, and she loves her kids, even though she sometimes sucks quite badly at mothering them. I love her for her imperfections. 

Favorite topic to research this year: I’ve been really enjoying researching emotionally focused couples therapy, which was developed by Sue Johnson, EdD. I’ve been watching therapy videos of couples going through this and having a wonderful time imaging Bucky and Steve going through something similar with Claire. I don’t think Claire is the strictest adherent to EFT, but I think she’s informed by it. It’s tough, because I’m very used to cognitive behavioral type therapies, so this one has been different to think about writing. I’ve also been really getting into reading about childhood sexual abuse and its effects on boys and men. It’s greatly helped my conceptualization of Bucky and Bucky and Steve’s relationship. I mean, it’s a grim topic, but there have been some fascinating threads in terms of understanding one’s self perception of sexual orientation, etc. and thinking about how Bucky would consider and contextualize his experiences. 

Am I more of a Steve or a Bucky? Hmm. I don’t strongly relate to either, but I think if I had to choose, I’m a bit more of a Steve. I’m pretty expressive of my affection and positive emotions, and I’ll complain about daily life things enough. However, when it comes to major life events that really bother me, I tend to err on the side of not processing them and turning my feelings into headaches and other physical afflictions. In other words, I’m a suppressor of major emotions and events. It’s FINE. I’m FINE. Nothing to see here. But I am definitely not as tidy as Steve, nor as smart, and definitely not as buff or hot. So that’s where most of our similarities end lol. I do eat a lot of tofu though. 

Who would I want to hang out with for a day? I initially thought Rikki, but like @pitchforkcentral86​, think she’s actually too cool and smart for me, and I would probably just make an ass out of myself. I think probably Elektra. I know, this is a left field answer, but it’s one day! To do whatever with anyone! I want to choose someone who’s going to make it worth my while. So many of the characters are either too busy, too rigid, too anxious, too conventional, etc. I would want to run around NYC with Elektra for the day and have drinks with her and Matt afterwards at some weird-ass underground bar. My more infield answer would probably be Hank. I want him to tell me gay stories about gay things. I want to see his apartment. I want to drink coffee with him. I want him to tell me about what the AIDS crisis was like for him. I want to hear about his relationship with Howard. I want all the shit that Bucky takes for granted every day. He can be my fairy godmother any day. 

Who would I want to be friends with? Probably Sharon. She’s one of the most reliable, loyal, and level-headed people in this world. She’s smart, she’s flexible, she rolls with things pretty well but also doesn’t take a ton of bullshit. She also has a good sense of humor about things. I feel like she’s someone I could call with my Zack Morris phone and talk with for hours about all sorts of things. We could also split a bottle of wine and talk some real shit. 

Wait - Why not Bucky or Steve? I don’t think these two are entirely likable, to be honest. They’re good humans, they mean well, but I don’t think they’re very well equipped in the friendship department.  I care about them very deeply (I hope that’s clear), but I don’t know if I’d want to be particularly close to either of them at this point in their lives. They’re both lacking in the skill and perspective to be good friends and partners, which is a major reason why they are in therapy. 

Who would I want to be my therapist - Hope, Bruce, Scott, or Claire? Claire. Given how much I suck at talking about the things that are really deeply bothering me, I think I would need an emotionally focused therapist who is going to dig in there and really get me to focus on all the emotions I’m trying to shove away. I would probably try to over-intellectualize everything and deflect, and I don’t think she’d let me get away with that. 

Okay, on to @pitchforkcentral86​~~~~~

What are my favorite scenes in BW and why? 

Oh boy. Well, this is a difficult question to answer since it feels like every chapter becomes a new favorite simply due to sheer amount of time spent planning and composing and revising and whining and complaining. And also my memory sucks. BUT, with that said, I think I would like to mention three scenes specifically:

1)      Bucky on deployment, cleaning a Humvee (Chapter 7), Steve standing nearby. This scene conveyed the tension of deployment and between Steve and Bucky so well, and, perhaps more importantly, built my respect towards Bucky as a competent, caring NCO (to that effect, the small scene in which we see Bucky the NCO on film telling all the little grunts to eat so they can become big and strong is another favorite).

2)      Beautiful Boy (Spent Brass), Steve’s memory from childhood with Sarah at the park, naming animals. I really don’t have a good reason other than that scene was so clear to me in my mind and was especially tender.

3)      Steve sleeping with Sharon in DC (Chapter 33). Honestly, it was just a great scene, and we had a really good time planning it out.

I can include many more, and certainly the ones Dread mentioned are favorites too, but I have to stop or this will just be a squeee fest.

Who is my favorite supporting character?

 Hank. His particular brand of honesty is extremely appealing to me, and I think Bucky secretly, or not so secretly, loves him too. And also Quill, just for shits and giggles because he is reliably there as an ice breaker, that lovable Mountain-Dew-drinking goof.  

Favorite topic to research this year: 

Well, I don’t do the research myself, but I spend many, many m-a-n-y hours listening to and conversing with Dread about all the things he’s delved into for this fic. So I guess maybe I’ll turn this question into favorite topic to discuss/conceptualize. In that respect, Bucky’s and Jack’s relationship has been by far the most intriguing, grueling, fascinating and difficult aspect of this fic to conceptualize – those were some of the best talks in the process. [Dreadnought edit: You will see much more of this in future chapters, folks!] And for a fun answer, planning out sex scenes is hilarious.

Am I more of a Steve or Bucky?

Bucky, no doubt. Sometimes it feels like Dread has climbed into my brain, found a horrible nugget of truth about me, and then put it into words coming out of Bucky’s mouth. Those moments are both wonderful and terrible in equal measure.

Who would I want to hang out with for a day?

For a whole day? Can it maybe be a coffee or, like, a quick lunch? I honestly don’t know… Neither Steve nor Bucky will be very good company, I think. Not in their current versions, anyways. Rikki is hella cool but she intimidates me, so, not her. Um.. Huh. Nope, don’t have an answer.

Who would I want to be friends with?

Probably Hank, again. He has a really good attitude. I’m starting to feel like not picking Steve/Bucky is selfish because it’s like “oh, they have too many issues and it won’t be fun”. But it’s also true! Friendship is reciprocal, and I really don’t think that’s where they’re at. (But I would have totally been dying to be friends with Steve in his bookshop days). 

Who would I want to be my therapist - Hope, Bruce, Scott, or Claire?

Hope or Claire. Both are no-nonsense competent therapists. But I think maybe Hope will be too put-together for me. So, yeah, probably Claire. 

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

Okay, everyone. Back to the grind. I’ll update as soon as I can!  Remember to wash your hands with the fastidiousness of BW Steve Rogers. (And also remember to sing the “happy birthday fucking everyone” song, which should actually be sung TWICE or resentfully enough that it lasts 20 seconds.)

[br4tcult]

﹒☼﹒

UPON RETURN ⎟  T. SHELBY

﹒♱﹒

✒︎requested: no i just loved the gif ✒︎warnings: swearing & narcotics + mentions of blood, bruises & violence && lots of tension ✒︎word count: 5000+ ✒︎season set: 1

[originally posted on my wattpad, bc idk how to post via tumblr but we tryin’. feedback majorly appreciated x]

﹒♱﹒

You took a deep breath as you lifted your bruised and dried bloody knuckle to the oh so familiar door. A thousand thoughts racing through your mind as you tapped your foot, both with impatience and disconcertment of what consequences would follow. 

You had moved to Small Heath at the age of seven, give or take, your father had got a job promotion which meant moving up country. When you first arrived you were known as 'The Cockneys At The Bottom Of Watery Lane'. You weren't even from London. You just happened to live near the capital. Not that anyone cared.

When you started school it was the same, only worse. All the girls would pick on you for speaking funny and the boys would pick on you for being too 'brash'. It wasn't your fault your parents had raised you to not take any shit. With your fathers line of work, he wasn't around an awful lot which mean you and your mother had to do a lot of things yourself. Which you, of course, didn't mind but it did mean that a lot of people would be confused and usually straight up rude.

They'd say things along the lines of, 'Whys a women doing this' and, 'Are women even capable of doing that', and so on, when you and your mother were doing the simplest of things.

Anyway, when you joined the school in Small Heath you found that being a girl with her head held high and strong arms wasn't easy.

One day you were minding your own business under the oak tree in the corner of the playground, reading Oliver Twist, if you remember correctly. When out of nowhere a group of kids made their way over to you; three girls and about five boys, all looking irritated.

"Wot ya doing, girl?", a boy with a scarf on asked you.

You rolled your eyes, turning to look at him as you put your bookmark in your book, "I have a name, you know?".

The boy scowled, "I don't care".

'What do you want?', you asked again, looking at the rest of them, "I'm busy".

A girl took a step forward, her hands behind her back as her plaits fell in front of her shoulders, "Just wanted to know why you're such a freak?".

You laughed, "I'm not a freak", you stood up.

"Yeah you are", a little boy from the back spoke up, "Ya read all the time n wear trousers". Another girl nodded, "Yeah girls don't wear trousers, they're for boys, ya freak".

"Girls can wear trousers too, you know?", you crossed your arms, "They're actually really comfortable".

The first boy that spoke to you shook his head, "I bet you wear trousers coz your mum n dad can't afford dresses, ay?", he said as he turned to look at his friends.

You didn't think twice before you lunged forward and brought the boy to the ground, "Fuck did you just say?", you spat as his friends gasped. When the boy didn't answer you shook him by his collar a little, "Didn't hear you".

"I said", he spoke, "You're poor and a freak of a girl", he sniggered.

You narrowed your eyes and lifted your fist before hitting him in the nose. He yelled and pushed you, knocking you slightly but you didn't fall over.

The kids started shouting "Fight... Fight... Fight...", causing a crowd of other kids to come running.

Soon enough you had hit him about four times before you heard an older voice, "Wots going on 'ere then?". You turned around to see three boys in flat caps, the voice belonging to the tallest.

"Wot's it look like?", you said, "I'm beating him u-", you were cut off as the boy beneath you grabbed one of your braids, yanking you down to the floor with him.

You quickly kicked him in the stomach before the three boys grabbed you and held you back, the other boy groaning in pain.

Walking you away as you shouted the boys laughed.

"Wot's your name then?", the smallest one asked as they sat you on a bench. You kept your chin up as you studied them, "Y/N", you narrowed your eyes, " 'ho uh you's then?".

The other two boys looked at each-other and chuckled before turning back to you, "That", they motioned to the smallest boy, "Is John". You nodded. "I'm Arthur", the tallest said before turning to the boy in the middle, "And this is-".

"I'm Tommy", he said as he held his hand out for you to shake, "These are my brothers".

You shook his hand and sat up straighter, "So Wot?", you began, "Yous the topdogs 'ere or sumin?", you asked.

They laughed as John spoke, "Yeah! We're the best here". Tommy gently shoved his brother, "Shut up, John", he said and looked back to you, "We're not yet, but no one messes with us if that's what you mean".

You nodded again, "So can I join your little gang?".

Arthur laughed, "Well you're not a Shel-", his brother Tommy cut him off.

"That's what I wanted to speak to you about actually, Y/N".

You smiled, "So that's a yes?".

John looked over to his older brothers, "Oh please, she's funny!".

Arthur looked back to you, "Where'd you live?", he asked you.

"Wa'ery Lane", you told him, "'bout a month now".

"Oh you're that girl", he said, "She's the cockney down the bottom of the Lane", he nudged Tommy.

"Alright we'll come and see you after school and you can join us", Tommy smiled.

You jumped to your feet and stood on your tippy-toes to be at the same height as Tommy, "Nah", you simply said as you watched his eyebrows furrow, "I'll meet yous, by the bridge at 'alf three", alright?".

Tommy sighed, "Deal". The two of you spat on your hand and shook on it.

The rest was history. You and the three brother became best friends.  Wherever you went, they followed and whoever they met up with, so did you.

You and John were the same age, you two were practically the same, it was hilarious. As you grew up you and John would always be playing pranks on the others and messing around with baby Micheal. No one left the two of you alone because they knew something would end up alight.

As for Arthur and Tommy, you all got on well. Whenever anyone messes with you, a seldom occurrence, they wouldn't mind paying them a quick visit. You helped Arthur with his maths and various other things as often as you could, although you didn't tell everyone about that, he wasn't proud.

As for Tommy, you two always loved to talk about the bigger picture and such. Often you two would walk down to the Canal or Charlie's Yard and spend a good few hours just talking about life and theories and your life aspirations.

By the time you and John were 18 your life had changed a lot, along with his. Of course you were still close friends but what with work and relationships you didn't see him as much as you would've liked. The same with Arthur, he always seemed to be busy, doing what you weren't sure exactly but when you did see him you'd always stop for a chat.

You saw Tommy most, he always made a point of stopping into the Newsagents you worked at, just to say good morning. You appreciated the gesture but couldn't help but feel as if you were wasting his time, you were always so busy trying to set up for the day you never got a minute to sit and chat with him.

As you had grown older, yours and Tommy's relationship had shifted slightly. Not that either of you dared to acknowledge, but you knew. You were both guilty of finding excuses to be around each-other and touch one another. Purposely bickering to clear a room of Shelby's out so that you were alone. Stealing glances whilst the other weren't paying attention. Just silly little things that you would try and pass off as platonic intimacy as you laid in bed at night overthinking every single word you said to the man that day... and every other day you'd ever known him.

Of course you wondered if he felt the same. It felt like he did but you could just be imagining that. And you weren't prepared to ruin what you had just because of some silly crush.

However come the end of 1913 your father was now too old to do the job he had moved here to do. And your mother missed her home town and family and as one thing led to another and they decided it was time to move back.

Of course you were devastated, you loved your job even though it was more than trouble then it was worth and you loved your friends. But you were also excited to go back, of course you had been back, Christmas and Easter and what not. But you missed living there, the bustle, the accents, the opportunities and fast changing trends.

So that's what happened, you spent your last few weeks making the most of it with the Shelby's and your job before the day you left came around. You promised you'd visit, and of course you would. You promised to write, and of course you went out and brought new writing pens and paper.

By the time you were settled back into your hometown war had broken out and it seemed almost every man you knew here was off to war. The brothers back in Birmingham as well. You couldn't bare to think about the consequences of that. You still kept in touch with all three of them though.

Until you didn't.

Around a month after the boys were back from the war the letters stopped coming. You weren't sure why or how but they did. So you stopped writing. Your pride was to big to just simply write to Aunt Pol and ask if everyone was ok incase they were and they just didn't like you.

So how did you get to knocking on their betting shop front doors at 11 o'clock at night?

The door opened after you had began knocking constantly after a minute of waiting.

"The fock do ya wan-", a deep voice began before releasing who they were speaking to.

You looked up, almost shocked, "Fuckin' 'ell, Arthur, you ain't 'alf grown since a last saw ya", you let out a strained chuckle as you looked at the man who seemed to be stunned.

"You gunna let me in or should I just bleed out over your shop front?", you joked dryly, "Don't think it'd be good for business".

"Uh yeah", he said as he shook his head, "No come in, yeah, just watch your step, it's busy". You furrowed your eyebrows as you stepped past him, it was 11 at night why would it be busy?

It was though. The entire room was full of people racing back and forward, counting money, writing numbers, sneaking an extra line now that Arthur had his back turned.

"There's a race tomorrow", Arthur told you as he placed a hand around your shoulder, "Now come on, let's get you fixed up, and then you can tell me what the fock happened to ya hands".

You nodded and followed him through the busy shop, keeping your head. Avoiding catching anyone's eye. Someone's eye.

"Polly!", Arthur shouted as he closed the green doors behind you, "Ay! Polly! Ada! Get down 'ere!".

"Sorry, am I causing you trouble, I didn't mean to end up here I just sort of- did?", you mumbled to Arthur, nervously.

"Wot you on about? You're always welcome here Y/N, you know that", he smiled before shouting for Polly once more. "And besides, this is a great time coz Tommy needs a fucking cheering up", he said as he pulled out a chair at the table for you to sit at.

You looked down at the table as you carefully held your hands above it, trying not to ruin it, "Is that so", you began, "dunno if I can help with that mate".

Arthur reached forwards and tilted your chin up to face him, "I hope for both our sakes that ain't true, you're the only hope left, Y/N", he said honestly.

"Wot do'ya mean?", you asked quietly.

Before he could reply you heard two squeals from behind Arthur. Looking up you saw Polly and Ada, and a little boy following behind.

"Y/N!", Polly said as she lifted her hands in the air, "You're here! You're well", she smiled as she walked over to you, wrapping her arms around your side.

"Oh my god", Ada said as she walked over to the other side of you.

"Wot the fuck happened to ya-" Polly asked as she grabbed an old tea towel and placed it carefully under your hands.

"To make a long story short", you forced a smile, "I thought it would be a good idea to find the man that burgled my parents", you cut yourself off with a 'fuck' as Ada began tending to your bruises, "And let's just say.. it wasn't".

Arthur sat up straight, "Can't be that bad", he laughed, "What'd'ya kill him or something", he joked, making light of the situation.

You licked your bottom lip, not saying anything for a moment before looking up from your hands to Arthur's face with a gulp.

"Wait you-", he began.

"You fucking killed someone!", Ada raised her voice in shock.

"Who's killed who then?", A chirpy voice asked as they walked in the room. You knew that voice from a mile off.

"John?", you called out, "John is that you, come 'ere", you said as you tried your best to turn towards the direction of the voice but Ada and Polly were blocking your view.

"Oh fuck off", John said as he pulled out a chair next to Arthur and next to you, "You didn't come and see me first! I'm offended" he joked, "When did you get back?", he beamed as he leant onto the table, hands clasped, "How are you? Any crazy stories to tell me coz I've got loads and- The fock happened to your hand?", John besieged you with questions.  

You laughed, "Yeah, missed you too, mate", you said simply as you looked back down at your hands which were stinging now as Polly cleaned them with neat alcohol.

"So do you wanna go down the Garrison after this then?", John simply asked you, ignoring the fact you were being patched up and hadn't seen him since 1913. It was as if you hadn't even spend half an hour apart let alone five or so years.

You looked up with a beaming smile across your red lips, "Fuck kind of a question is that .. of course I do, John".

Arthur cheered as he got up and reached up on top of the kitchen cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whisky. Finding a few small glasses he poured out some drinks, passing them around. John holding yours as both your hands were currently being worked on.

"To this one", Arthur said as he ruffled your hair slightly, just like he had to when you were kids (which you hated, but now it seemed comforting), before everyone cheered slightly and downed their drink.

"Who we toasting to this time then, ay?", a quite deep voice spoke from across the room. Arthur turned around in shock, spilling the bottle of whiskey over that he had brought over and left on the table. "Oh fuck sake Tommy, look what you made me do!", he shouted.

"You fucking idiot", Polly complained as she looked up, "I brought that whiskey to drink, not wash the floor with!".

John burst out laughing as he watched Arthur scuttle around trying to find something to soak it up with. As Ada left your side to help her brother, you looked up back to where the voice had come from.

Thomas.

You gulped softly, running your eyes over the man across the room. He seemed colder, more mature but rather in a sense that he had lost any grip on hope or joy. A contrast to how John seemed. As you looked back up to his face you blushed as you realised he was already staring back at you.

He walked over as he took his cap off, shoving it into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette.

He sat down at the table, stealing Arthur's seat, who was still trying to apologise to Polly for spilling her drink.

"Bet you're glad to be back", Tommy joked dryly as he placed his cigarette in his mouth and nodded in your direction as he pulled out out a light.

You smiled, "Yeah, I definitely missed this", you said sincerely, looking over at everyone, "Whatever 'this' is", you laughed, looking back over at Tommy.

Everyone pretended to still be busy as they all secretly listened in on the exchange between the two of you - amazed that Tommy had even cracked a smile.

"Right, well that should be fine now", Polly tapped your shoulder, "Just don't get into any fights for about a week, at least", she smiled before walking off, taking Ada and Arthur with her. Leaving John who was playing with his thumbs.

"So the Garrison yeah?", you looked over at your best mate, "tonight?".

"Yeah", he smiled, "I'll buy the first round".

You tilted your head with narrowed eyes, "Don't you practically own the pub", you asked as the smell of Tommy's cigarette filled your nose, in a weird sense it was comforting to you.

John nodded with a shrug, "So you won't be buying it then, will you?", you laughed, "And I will".

"Yeah something like that", he laugh as he stood up, "That's what you get for leavin' us".

"Yeah, coz it's not like you went away to war or anything anyway", you shouted after him as he walked off, acting offended. You let out a quiet snort as you watched.

"Why didn't ya visit?", Tommy spoke after a moment, "Y'know, when we got back".

"Yous stopped writing", you said plainly, "So I thought yuh didn't wanna see me", you shrugged as you looked down at your bruised hands.

"We didn't stop.. you stopped", Tommy leant back in his chair.

"Um, No", you furrowed your eyebrows, "I didn't stop writing first, why would I've done that", you argued.

Tommy shook his head slightly, blowing smoke out as he rubbed his temples, "I know what happened". You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain. "Someone stopped delivering our letters and stealing yours when they got here", he leant forward, looking down at your hands, clenching his jaw, "Wot happened?".

"But- But why would someone do that?", you asked, ignoring his question.

"Dunno", he said and thought for a moment, "I'll ask Finn, he used to collect our post and such".

"Finn?", you raised your eyebrows, "Oh my god, is Finn the boy that- oh my god he's so grown up now!", you gasped.

Tommy smiled, "Shot up when we all went away, didn't he?". You nodded, shifting in your seat, turning towards Tommy slightly as you leant back.

"What happened?", Tommy asked again, in reference to your hands. You watched as he brushed away any dirt on the table, not wanting anything to get lodged in your cuts even if they were now covered and treated. You studied his hands now, all the small marks left from old cuts and gashes.

"Um", you didn't know where to start, "Just after the war ended, y'know, everyone settling back in best they could, everyone still disorientated", you absentmindedly began tapping your foot under the table as you continued. Tommy noticed but kept quite. "Well this man, I knew him actually — right cock'ead, worked at the butchers and spied on all the school girls when they walked 'ome", you grimaced, "So yeah anyway, it was a Wednesday evening, I'd popped round to me parents 'ouse, just two roads away from mine, and um", you licked your bottom lip, lightly biting the skin on the inside.

"When I got- when I got there they were both knocked out cold, only just fuckin' breathin'", you shook your head as you remembered, your tapping growing louder, "That's when I realised someone was in thee 'ouse". Tommy held his chin high as he tried to contain his displeasure, not only had this mysterious man caused you pain but also your parents - who he knew well and respected.

"So I goes up stairs and the pig is filing though my mothers jewellery box ain't he?", you laughed dryly to yourself, "Only to realise everything is sentimental and barely worth a fuckin' thing", you cursed.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what to say but he wanted to comfort you, even if he was a little late. He didn't get the chance as you began speaking again, the anger in your voice more present.

"I mean what the fuck did he think was gonna be there? Fucking Faberge Eggs? We're livin' on the outskirts of London for fucks sake", you wanted to clench your fists but it would ruin everything Polly had just achieved, instead you decided to throw your head back and angrily  shout 'fuck'.

Tommy stifled a laugh as he watched you so desperately want to lash out, "So what did you do?".

You lifted your head back up slowly and looked over at Tommy, dead in the eyes, "I told him to fuck off and never come back", you simply said, adding, "With a butchers knife in my hand, and a pistol in the other".

Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette as he looked at you, "And people say I'm threatening", he joked.

Shrugging with a small smirk you leant forward, crossing your legs in hopes of stopping yourself from tapping them. "Anyway, he left with his hands up and then I never saw him again".

Tommy butted his cigarette in the ashtray and folded his arms, ready to hear the gruesome end to your story.

"That was until I obviously tracked him down, I wasn't going to let him get away with hurting my parents".

"Did it take long?".

"No", you looked down at your hands once more, "I found him in a day or two, moved up to Coventry .. I went up to visit him once a month— secretly of course, just to make sure he was still there and what no", you raised your eyebrows before you spoke, "And then today I decided he was finally comfortable, my threats of finding him finally at the back of his mind".

Tommy looked you over as you sat, one leg still bouncing as your thumbs rolled over one another, your bottom lip a piece of meat to your top teeth as little bits of your lipstick began to wear off.

"I'll spare you the gore but let's just say he got more then I intended to give him and now he's resting in his own fire pit", you smiled sinisterly as you looked up to Tommy. "I feel bad of course, I guess", your smile faded, "But he deserved it, and it wasn't as if he had any family that cared about him".

Tommy took a short breath, straightening his back and smoothing his waistcoat down before looking at you with a concerned look.

"Wot?", you asked as you saw the look in his eye, "Look, if you're going to ask any questions about my well being- don't .. I'm clearly fine, aren't I?".

"What about the stuff that's not obvious", Tommy said lowly, "Why are you really here? Hmm?", he leant forward, adjusting your bloodied shirt cuffs, "I'm sure you could find many people to patch you up, and better then Pol too", he joked.

"Ay don't discredit Pol, she did a great job", you changed the subject. "And anyway", you carefully stood up, standing behind your hair as you pushed it under the table with your hip, "It's easy to hide in plain sight here".

Tommy watched you as you walked over to their sink, turning on the tap and bending to drink the water. The prospect of filling and holding a cup in your bandages wasn't looking fun right now. Tommy held back a giggle as he raised a brow at your behaviour, "How so?".

You turned around, leaning on the kitchen surface, "Well not only do I just have to put some coal on me and call it day, my best mate is the leader of arguably one of the most powerful organised gangs in the country, no one would dare give me up", you smirked.

"You reckon John's in charge?", Tommy stood up, leaving his chair untucked as he walked over to you, placing his hands either side of your waist, "Is is that what he's told you".

You gulped with a playful expression still on your face, "Well Arthur's too hot-headed and you're too collected, Johns a mix of both", you half lied, just to test Tommy's patience. He narrowed his eyes with a sly smirk upon his lip.

"You don't think that", he said simply.  

"Says who?".

"You".

"Well I literally just said the opposite so I don't exactly understan-".

Tommy cut you off as he leant closer, his hands subconsciously moving closer to your body as they glided across the surface edge, "Your body language", he said as if it was obvious, "Your heart".

You let out a loud dry laugh, trying to outwit him as you held your chin high, feigning confidence, "What do they say then? Because my brain is saying that you're embarrassed by my opinions".

"Well for starters you've ended up in my old house, pinned to a surface by me", Tommy took a shallow breath as he stood up straight, now his chest was practically touching yours, "Not John", he looked down into your eyes, holding your gaze, "Not Arthur, and not Jack from down the lane who used to flirt with you every fockin' chance he got".

You bit your lip, praying that no one would interrupt this, wanting to see how far it could go.

Of course you had thought about this before. You and Tommy. The way you both bounced off of eachother so well, the way you never felt awkward around eachother, the way you just understood eachother. Tommy and You. Of course you had thought about his lips on yours before, his hands on your waist- around your neck. The two of you cuddled up after a long day of running the betting shop. It had occupied the small space at the back of your mind since you were fourteen. You ignored it best you could though.

But over time that small space had become bigger, migrating to the front of your brain. And after all of your hard work getting it to shut up whilst you were back home, you had to come back to Birmingham and run into him. He had to ruin it and make you fall for his rubbish all over again.

Or maybe you came to Birmingham for that exact reason. Shit. He was right.

"No, you're in front of me", He said as you looked back into his eyes, "And I think we both know why".

"Do we?".

Tommy narrowed his eyes a playful smirk grew upon his lips, he chuckled to himself quietly, just above a whisper, "You know what your problem is?", he asked.

You shook your head a little, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid you would give in to him first.

"You're too stubborn, your ego is the size of a circus".

You furrow you're eyebrows with a gasp, "Am not!", you childishly defended yourself, "What makes me stubborn then, huh?".

"The fact you won't admit you've come here to see me".

"Well in actual fact, if I had come to see anyone, it would be John", you raised an eyebrow, "But as I said, I just ended up here and I'm glad I did because Polly is the only other person besides from my mum that I'd trust to patch me up".

Tommy returned back to his infamous imperturbable expression as he looked at you, "Why aren't you with John Boy now then? Ay?", he pressed, "Why aren't you terrorising Harry with him down at the Garrison?".

You shrugged, "Maybe", you smirked, "Maybe because you've trapped me in this godforsaken little kitchen because you're to scared to admit that you fancy me", you flushed a little as you finished your sentence, your heart racing as you wondered if this was the end of you and Tommy. Whatever you and Tommy was.

Tommy clenched his jaw, his eyes darting from your eyes, to your chest, to your hands, to your lips. "Well go on then", he stepped back, leaving you just enough space to walk away, "Go off and play with John then".

You frowned, eyes narrowed as you wondered if he was being serious, it was hard to tell with him.

You pushed yourself off of the counter, closing the gap between you both again as you stood as tall as you could. Your nose practically touching his chin as you looked up to him. "Fine", you said coldly, "I'll see you later then, after I'm done catching up with John", you quickly turned and headed for the front door before you could fall victim to Tommy's eyes again.

"And my Gin", you shouted before the door slammed shut behind you.

Damn both of your conceit.

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✒︎author note: part two? + plus plz comment any spelling mistakes etc ✒︎requests: open 09/2019

~ published: 29.10.2019 ~

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