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ricksroaches · 3 years

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Jungkook - Dysphoria ch. 1

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Jungkook, a burnt out gifted student, comes home from summer camp not ready to start his sophomore year of highschool, but his friends are there to help him feel better. Although not in the best of ways.

notes: This is a Euphoria-ish au but mostly it's just heavily inspired by the show (I use a few quotes), and each chapter is based on a character. There's a few parts where I cue a song title that's because I made a soundtrack to listen to while reading but I deleted it a while ago so :( if you feel like it listen to the ones I did write down. I'm apologizing now bc my writing can be a bit choppy/rushed its just cuz i have a more drabble-like style and don't know how to write between big scenes. THIS IS A DARK FIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Hope you enjoy and sorry for this big ass paragraph.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: ass-load of angst, mental illness (depression, anxiety, bipolar, OCD, and probably more), drugs (all of them. just all of them), underage drinking, cursing, mentions of self-harm

Next chapter

[Slideshow - Labrinth]

When Jungkook was 5, he wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to fly into the sky and zip around space exploring things never before seen. His little mind was so strong, wanting to learn anything and everything. When he first learned how to read, he would read every sign he passed in the car and play games with the letters he’d find. It wasn’t long before he was placed in advanced classes with kids he'd never seen before and for the first time in his academic career, he was challenged.

When Jungkook was 10, he wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to wear a white coat and glasses and race around a hospital busy saving lives everyday. He wanted people to look to him for advice and treat him with respect. He wanted to feel needed.

When Jungkook was 14, he wanted to be a paramedic. He didn’t think he’d be smart enough to become a doctor so an EMT would have to do. His classes had begun to pile up in work to the point where he didn’t have the time to think about anything but school. He ate, slept, and breathed homework, projects, and term papers.

When Jungkook was 16, all he wanted to do was graduate. He no longer had any desire to pursue his childhood dreams. When he was asked what he wanted to do when he was older, his mind was a void. He couldn’t see any future for himself past high school. He went day to day not bothering to care about what might happen the next day. He coasted through all of his classes and dropped out of the advanced programs that his parents put him in.

His potential was like a flame. It was small at first, but still had loads of potential, so more kindling was thrown on top. The flame received it well, quickly spreading over the new material. But they kept stacking kindling. Stacking and stacking and stacking putting more and more pressure until finally….the flame died. All because he liked to read.

[Forever - Labrinth]

The clouds inched across the sky and rows of crops and fencing whipped by the car window. A stark contrast between the two. Jungkook rested his head against the glass and watched as the car began to pass more and more houses. The familiar area told him he was almost home. He should’ve been glad, elated even. He would finally get to see his friends again, but after three weeks of summer school to catch up on the class he skipped last year he’d lost the ability to smile or show any form of positivity. To say he felt like a zombie would be an insulting understatement.

The car pulled into the ever so familiar driveway and the rest of his family piled out of the car. He didn’t move. He heaved a long, anguished sigh before snatching his duffel bag from the other seat and throwing open the door.

He was out the front door again before his mom could even ask him where he was going. Speeding his bike down the empty road that he’d ridden countless times before. He could make this route with his eyes closed. The house in question came into view and Jungkook pedaled harder to close the distance. He swung one leg to the opposite pedal and straddled it until he swerved to a stop in the driveway. The house was old, hadn’t been lived in for years, wasn’t on the market, yet wasn’t scheduled to be torn down. It was the perfect place for a group of teenagers to tear apart and put back together. Without knocking, he stepped inside and was hit with the welcoming scent of booze, pizza, and weed with notes of cigarettes and coffee. Music blasting from a distant room in the house led him to the living room where he counted one, two, three, four, five people sprawled about the room. Upon noticing him standing in the doorway, they jumped up and raced to pull him into the room.

“Kook! How you been man? How’d surviving summer school go?” Taehyung was Jungkook’s best friend and unsolicited wingman. He was always trying to set him up with girls so he could get his v card punched. Taehyung was ever the ladies man. Never had trouble finding a date or a hookup. No one could blame him though. If they had that flawless, arrogant face they’d use it too. Despite his fuckboy nature, he was the best friend Jungkook ever had. They’d gone to the same school since they were 7 and Taehyung’s untamable charisma sniffed out Jungkook’s shyness rather quickly. They were inseparable and the rest is history.

“Fine I guess.”

“Kookie, come sit down! I’ve been saving your spot on the couch for you!” Jimin pulled Jungkook to the left corner of the C shaped couch. Jimin was like Taehyung in the sense that he also had no issues with finding partners. He wasn’t near as promiscuous as Taehyung, but he made up for it with his bisexuality. He had an entire other gender to choose from. Jimin was probably the nicest of the group. He always gave the best hugs and was their personal therapist. His aura seemed to coax you into opening up to him even if you hadn’t originally planned on it. He had a way of saying all the right words to make you feel better, even if it was just for a moment. On the other side of him, he was the biggest party animal the group had ever seen. Anywhere else, he was the purest angel that everyone believed could do no wrong. But at a party? Park Jimin was a demon. Seductively dancing in a stylish jacket, pants low enough to show his v-line, sweaty hair flipped back pounding shot after shot until he was the last man standing. That guy could party from sun down to sun up like it was a baby shower.

“Did you at least learn anything you missed last year?” Namjoon. Ever the parent. He was surprisingly humble given his father’s status and money. He easily had the best grades among the friends. School always came easy to him, no matter what it was. However, if you saw him outside of school, you’d never be able to guess he was one of the school’s top students. He carried an energy with him that dared anyone to mess with him or his friends. Although you didn’t see it often, he could make himself scary if he wanted to. All in all, he’s just a gentle giant that made sure everyone turned in their work.

“Absolutely nothing. I don’t know why they keep wasting their time on me.” Jungkook sighed. Hoseok threw a pillow from across the couch, smacking him in the face.

“Yah! Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Hoseok was the human charger. It didn’t matter if someone’s mama died if Hoseok was in the room there would be shenanigans. He was always the one to make some crazy dare that would end up getting them in trouble but they wouldn’t be mad because it was totally worth it. He also had great music taste and almost always was on aux. Hoseok’s vice was coke. Often the driving force behind his hyper nature, it started out as just a thing he did at parties, but slowly creeped into his everyday habits. It hadn’t become a problem yet, he vowed that as soon as he started getting nosebleeds he’d stop, although Jungkook was wary of how difficult that was going to be.

“Where’s Y/N and Yoongi?” Jungkook asked after noticing their usual spots empty.

“They left to get food. They should be coming back soon.” Jin assured him, giving him a comical slap on the thigh. Jin was the eldest, but rarely acted like it. Whenever he wasn’t making stupid dad jokes or eating he spent his time at the classical theater where he worked and sometimes acted. He planned on pursuing acting given his “world wide handsome face.” “It just has to be seen! People around the world need to swoon at my beauty” as he would put it.

No one heard the front door open and shut or noticed Y/N and Yoongi standing in the doorway of the living room.

“Food’s here.” Yoongi finally croaked. Hoseok and Jin yelped and sprung up.

“JESUS! Ever heard of announcing yourselves?! I swear you guys are the exact same person!” Y/N just gave a shrug and plopped onto the large bean bag that she’d claimed.

“Hey, Kooker.” She dragged out.

“Hi Y/N..” His unusual bland reply didn’t go unnoticed by her, but she brushed it off.

“You ready to get shit faced?” A playful grin plastered her otherwise tranquil face. A small smile poked at Jungkooks pursed lips. There was something about her character that always put him in a better mood. She was the one who invited him and Tae into the friend group in the first place, and because of that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

Yoongi tossed him a beer can and his car keys. “Start us off Jungkook.” Yoongi was by far the most terrifying one. It took some time to get to know his true person but there were still times when he still scared the shit out of him. Jungkook remembered when he first met Yoongi. He looked like he’d served time with the seasoned look in his eye that said he’d seen some shit in his day. He hadn’t spoken the entire time the group was talking and Jungkook was beginning to worry that he didn’t like him. It wasn’t til he finally spoke that Jungkook could release the breath he was holding. For someone so stoic and cold looking, he never expected him to have such a low, soft voice. He realized, Yoongi wasn’t scary, he was just quiet like him.

Jungkook took the keys and poked a hole in the bottom of the can. He pressed his lips to it and pulled the tab, sending the amber liquor shooting down his throat. He finished it with ease and crushed the can in his palm while the room cheered and chanted.

The loud music, laughing, and drugs drowned out everything in the outside world. It felt like the world ended and they were the last people left on Earth. Nothing mattered but what was right in front of them. The hours flew by until it came time for everyone to crash. Most of them were still raging drunk or high which only made them fall asleep faster. Jungkook didn’t drink much and he barely smoked. He just couldn’t get in the right headspace to enjoy any of it. So there he was, laying awake among a pile of snoring boys at some ungodly hour of the night. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to read the text in his notifications.

[We All Knew - Labrinth]

Y/N💜: come to my office

He shimmied out from under Taehyung and Jimin and tiptoed out of the room. He followed the smell of weed through the house because where there was weed, there was Y/N. He stepped into the backyard and found her leaning against the wall, blunt between her fingers. The tip of the dark stick swelled into a bright orange when she took a drag. Smoke rolling out of her nose, she held it out for him. He hesitated.

“You're upset. Take it.” Which was a dead-on observation for Y/N, who’s not normally revolving in the same direction as planet Earth. He hesitantly took a puff from it before handing it back. She spread her arms lazily and looked at him with a beckoning stare. He sighed and walked right into her arms that wrapped around his back. She was only older than him by a year, but her old soul and almost motherly demeanor made him look up to her like she was his idol. Sometimes, he forgot he was a whole head taller than her. “Welcome home, Kookie.”

Hers was the only welcome he got that day that brought a genuine smile to his face. She had a way of making him feel welcome and wanted even if she was in a bad mood. She broke the embrace and without a word headed to the old couch by the empty swimming pool. He eventually followed her and flopped down next to her. Another gush of smoke entered the chilly air and it was handed back to him. Feeling better, he took a healthy drag and sighed out the smoke as he sunk further into the couch.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Was what obvious?”

“Me being upset.”

“Not really.” She flicked the ash off the tip of the brown stick, her gaze not breaking from its spacey stare.

“Then how’d you know?”

“Pain recognizes pain.” Y/N wasn’t one for her genius epiphanies, given that nine times out of ten on any given day she was stoned out of her mind. She wasn’t dumb, god no. He wouldn’t doubt that she was smarter than him, but she rarely exercised her ability. As great of a gift that her mind was, it was an even worse curse. An inescapable tomb of her worst fears, thoughts, and intentions, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. So naturally, she tried anything and everything to silence her mind; alcohol, weed, acid, coke, molly, you name it, she’s done it.

Jungkook wasn’t angry or disappointed by the lengths she went. He knew she was just trying to feel better, and to him, that’s all that mattered. He’d take high Y/N over no Y/N at all.

“Y/N?”

“Yep.” There was a silence while he worked up the nerve to speak.

“How…uh….how long have you felt…the way you feel?” She chuckled and let her head fall back against the couch.

“Well I smoked a blunt with Yoongi in the car this morning and then-”

“No, I mean like…w-without drugs.” Her lazy smile didn’t change, but her eyes unfocused and she grew quiet as if lost in a flashback.

“How long do you think I’ve felt this way?” He didn’t anticipate this question.

“Uh…I don’t know…you hide it really well.”

“I couldn’t tell you when it started. I don’t remember much before 7. I’m told I was a happy kid, but it didn’t feel like it at all. All my life I’ve looked around and seen that everyone was so much happier than me, and I’d ask myself, ‘Why can’t I feel like that?’ It wasn’t until I was older that I learned…I was born to suffer. That’s just my place in the world.”

“When did you finally tell anyone?”

“I didn’t. My parents found my razors.” Jungkook always thought he saw scars on her arms and legs, but her milky skin made it hard to tell. It hurt his heart to know that it was true, and that every one of those once caused her pain. The image of her forearms and thighs slick with her blood brewed tears in his eyes.

“They determined they didn’t have the knowledge to help me, so they asked me to take a tour of this mental hospital and think about their suggestion….” She paused to keep her voice from cracking. “I didn’t make it home that day. Never really forgave them after that.”

There was a long silence after that. Jungkook didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Besides, he knew she hated condolences. “What made you start using drugs?” She took a drag of the blunt and thought about it.

“I was 13.” Really? “I found my brothers stash of weed in one of his shoes. I already knew what weed was and what it was used for, so I took about a gram and a rolling paper and taught myself how to roll a joint on my bathroom floor. I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds but when that joint hit, I thought…” She tilted her head to peak at him with an epiphanic smile, “This is it…This is the feeling that I’ve been waiting to feel my entire life. I thought I was sure to get caught and sent to juvie, but I wasn’t. The world went on, and I found a way to live. Now could my lifestyle kill me? Will it kill me? Yeah probably I don’t know, but at least I could’ve had a few years where I wasn’t begging the universe to put me out of my misery.” She paused to take another hit. “People often ask me, ‘Y/N why don’t you try therapy? Drugs aren’t the answer.’ Yeah well, drugs work. Therapy’s a guessing game; you never know if it’s gonna actually help or not and end up wasting your time and money. But when I take that hit, that line, that tab, the world starts to slow…and everything goes quiet…and I feel safe. In my own head. And I can see the world in color again.”

Jungkook watched her blissful face while she was lost in thought. She must’ve been pretty high because this is the most personal she’d ever gotten with him or possibly anyone that wasn’t Yoongi. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“W-what if I don’t feel what everyone else feels either..?” He pinched the skin between his fingers to keep his tears at bay, a nervous habit he’d picked up from her. She reached over and took his hand in hers, the webbing between her fingers had white and pink stripes from years of fingernails digging into the flesh.

“Jungkook,” she didn’t use his nickname, “I know how hard it was for you to say that. I want you to know how much I appreciate you telling me, because if anyone knows how you feel, it’s me. You can talk to me whenever, wherever. Even when you think it’s a bad time it’s not, because nothing in that moment is more important to me than you. I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did, so please, even if you don’t want to talk, maybe I can at least keep you company.”

For the rest of the night, Jungkook told her everything. About the pressure, the stress, the desire to collapse and let the world go on without him, his inability to see a future where he was fulfilled. The words often caught in his throat, having never said them out loud before. Y/N didn’t say much, she just wrapped them in a blanket and stroked his hair while she just let him talk. Sometimes, he’d have to stop to cry and she’d hold him a little tighter, wipe his tears away with her thumbs, and wait til he was ready again.

Eventually, he had nothing else to say, his tears dried, and his body stilled.

Babies didn’t sleep that good.

Y/N nodded off a little later but was woken up by a raccoon tipping a trash can. She rested her cheek on his head and tried to go back to sleep, but it never came. She just continued to rest her eyes while playing with Jungkook’s hair and tracing lines along his features.

She didn’t know how long she laid there but soon the birds began their routine morning songs and she was sure she wouldn’t get back to sleep now. The faint tap of shoes on the concrete perked her ears, but she kept her eyes closed. The footsteps stopped behind the couch where she sat. It was quiet before the person chuckled quietly. A warm hand smoothed back the hair in her face and a little kiss was planted on her forehead. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Yoongi, I’m awake you creep.” She cracked her eyes open to see her boyfriend laid over the back of the couch hovering above her, his dark hair tickling her nose. He smirked.

“Well in that case,” he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up before capturing her lips in a playful kiss. When they parted, he glanced down at Jungkooks still sleeping figure. “You guys stay out here all night?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at him and smoothed his hair back, “he just had a few things to get off his chest.” Yoongi almost asked what it was about but her face gave him an idea.

“It’s cold, you want me to take him inside?”

“It won’t wake him up will it?”

“If he’s as out as as he looks, he won’t.” She nodded and Yoongi circled around and slipped his hands under the sleeping boy’s body. Much to Y/N’s pleasant surprise, he lifted him bridal style with ease and she followed him into the house where he placed him next to the other slumbering boys.

When he straightened back up he saw her in the sliding glass door, gazing at the now dusty blue sky. She could feel his body heat on her back against the nippy outside air.

“I always loved the time just before dawn.”

“Why is that?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers.

“It’s so calm and peaceful. And incredibly quiet besides the birds. It’s the only time I feel truly left alone.”

“You want me to show you my favorite time of day?” She turned to him with a curious look. “Follow me.” Not long after, the two were perched on the flat portion of the roof with Yoongi’s bong sitting between them. His angular fingers effortlessly packed the bowl and held it out to her. “All yours.” She took it with a smile.

“What a gentleman~”

Soon, the sky went from a pale blue to pastel shades of orange and pink. He looked over to see her fiddling with a thread on his hoodie she was wearing. “This,” he took her jaw and guided her eyes up for her to see the sunrise, “is my favorite time of day.”

“Why?”

“It gives me hope. Kinda like you.” He was glad she didn’t say anything. She was lost in the color palette of the scene before her, the weed making everything so much more vibrant and striking. He could see the sky reflected in her eyes, making the view ten times better. More time went by and she rested her head on his broad shoulder while they watched the rest of the sunrise.

Back on the ground, Yoongi cleared the bowl and poured out the bong water before setting it on a table by the couch. Y/N was on her back in the center of the empty pool, slowly tearing a leaf above her face and analyzing how it separated cell by cell. He stood on the edge above and watched her do this another four times much to his amusement. “You wanna get breakfast?”

She was out of the pool and in his face before he could finish his sentence. “Like you have to ask.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes before turning and walking to his car. “Hey, Yoongi.”

He turned back.

“Carry me to the car like Jungkook.” He broke into a smirk and walked back to her.

“Yes ma’am.” She let out a yelp when he scooped her off her feet and marched the two of them to his car waiting on the street.

Cover photo: @BIGHITTED on Twitter

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #fanfic #yoongi #yoongi x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fic #yoongi fic #bts angst

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politalysis · 3 years

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# What has happened to JK Rowling?

Growing up in the early 2000s immediately made Harry Potter a huge part of your childhood. Even if you never read the books or watched the films, you can probably name the three main characters. Even if you weren’t interested in Harry Potter in the slightest, you probably know your Hogwarts house. It’s incredible what Harry Potter did for our generation all over the world. Children would stay up on their eleventh birthdays anxiously awaiting a Hogwarts acceptance letter, knowing full well that owl was never going to come. Our imagination kept the dream of going to Hogwarts and learning magic alive anyway. Even now at the age of 23, I can for the most part keep a conversation flowing with anyone who has read the books or even just watched the films. You could even go as far as to say it was our generation’s Lord of the Rings.

JK Rowling came from very humble beginnings. She suffered with depression in her childhood and early teens, and lost her mother to multiple sclerosis in 1990. These struggles inspired her a lot when writing Harry Potter. She channeled her grief and pain into her writing. In 1992, she married a man she had met whilst living in Portugal, but Rowling suffered domestic abuse at his hands and the couple separated a year later. She lost her job and moved to Edinburgh in Scotland, where she had to sign up for welfare benefits, which left her a poor and depressed single mother spending her time writing in coffee shops. When she finished writing Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, twelve publishers rejected the opportunity to publish the book. Once someone finally agreed to publish the book, it became the best selling children’s book of the year.

We all know how the story goes from there. Rowling wrote six more Harry Potter books, eight films were made, and Rowling went from a poor vulnerable single mother to a multi millionaire in the space of a few short years. Harry Potter is now a global brand estimated to be worth about $15 billion. The last four books have each consecutively set the record for the fastest selling book in history. Rowling is now the richest author in the world, with a net worth of $92 million. But as well as money, JK Rowling has over 14 million followers on Twitter. This gives her massive influence as well as money. Rowling seemed to initially use this influence for good, spreading mental health awareness, LGBT inclusivity, interacting with fans and creating a website for all us Harry Potter fans to determine our houses and let our wands choose us.

I remember being 8 years old when Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was released, and I was attending a religious school where some parents complained and called to ban Harry Potter over the controversial decision JK Rowling made regarding Dumbledore’s sexuality. Rowling had made the claim that Dumbledore was gay. Looking back, the controversy was ridiculous and I can only imagine how embarrassed some of those parents must be. I also remember as I got older, re-reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows I noticed more that the emotion behind Dumbledore’s relationship with Grindelwald was one he held with a romantic love. So years later, when several members of the LGBT community attacked Rowling for only deciding Dumbledore’s sexuality after the books were written, I publicly defended her with my knowledge that that simply wasn’t true. I had this image of Rowling in my mind, that she had always been on the right side of this debate. She had always been inclusive and supportive of LGBT people as far as I could see, and I just didn’t understand the issue. Rowling had always expressed a centre-left political perspective, and although I didn’t agree with all her views, they seemed relatively uncontroversial.

When Harry Potter and the Cursed Child was released, I hated it. It was a literary disaster, completely disrespectful of the original book series, the characters were a shell of the characters we had grown up with, the plot was almost deliberately ridiculous and overly elaborate and I immediately dismissed it as not canon. I have never forgiven JK Rowling for publicly stating the book was canon. She almost destroyed a whole two decades of her own hard work and the franchise that she’d built that had been like a home for a whole generation. All because she wanted to grab a few extra quid for a terrible book she didn’t even write. To this day I can’t help but wonder if she has even read the book. If I had written the masterpiece that is Harry Potter, I would view the Cursed Child as an insult. Perhaps I’ll even write a review one day, just for fun. Rowling also annoyed me by going back on her story, regretting pairing Ron and Hermione together and not pairing Hermione with Harry. Ron and Hermione are my favourite couple from the story, and their relationship had so much meaning. I couldn’t believe that the author who wrote such a clever and consistent relationship between two beloved characters could ever regret it. At this point in my life, I was beginning to wonder if perhaps Rowling was losing her mind. It was almost like she was trying to destroy her legacy.

As more years passed, the Fantastic Beasts films were released. The first film looked promising, but the second film was yet another disaster. Again, it was inconsistent with the franchise as we knew it, for some reason Hogwarts was full of people wearing 3 piece suits instead of the robes they wore in the Harry Potter series and Minerva McGonigall appeared as a teacher despite the fact that canonically there is no way she could have been old enough. The film was a disaster with both fans and critics hating it. Amongst this mess came controversy in December 2019. Rowling lost all respect she had once held amongst the transgender community when she made a public statement supporting Maya Forstater, a British woman who lost her employment tribunal case against her employer who fired her over transphobic comments. Six months later on June 6 2020, Rowling criticised the term “people who menstruate” and stated: "If sex isn’t real, the lived reality of women globally is erased. I know and love trans people, but erasing the concept of sex removes the ability of many to meaningfully discuss their lives." Rowling’s views on these issues were heavily criticised by GLAAD and even by the actors from the Harry Potter movies including lead actors Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson.

Rowling published a 3,600 word essay in response to the mass criticism of her views four days later. The essay did her no favours, as she wrote: “When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside.” She seemed to be suggesting that trans women are often just men disguised as women in order to trick or even harm other women. This obviously angered the transgender community even more, and women’s refuge shelters that allow trans women were reporting no rise in violence as a result, children’s charities that support gender non conforming children were criticising Rowling, she was being made to give back awards and ultimately Rowling was labelled a Trans exclusionary radical feminist, a term often abbreviated to TERF.

JK Rowling is the perfect example of how money and influence can make someone forget their roots so easily. For someone who survived poverty, domestic abuse and sexual assault, she is so lacking in self awareness and how the things she has said and done can be harmful to transgender people. It is widely reported that transgender women are at more risk of harm in female restrooms than cisgender women. With acceptance becoming the norm, transgender people are feeling more safe to come out now than ever before, and so the rise in numbers of the community is huge, especially amongst our generation who grew up with Harry Potter. For a young transgender teenager to grow up wondering how Hogwarts would accommodate them, only to hear the author who gave us Hogwarts in the first place disapprove of equal rights for transgender people, must be very disheartening. However, JK Rowling has proven that she has no idea how powerful the legacy her books created really is. She was tasked with following up the Harry Potter series, and what she gave us was inconsistent and very poorly written screenplays. I have read better sequels on tumblr. Lots of them. Hogwarts doesn’t belong to JK Rowling, it belongs to the fandom. And I’ll be willing to bet my last penny that if Professor McGonigall witnessed any bullying of transgender students in her classroom (or indeed the girls bathroom!) she’d absolutely defend the victim without a moment’s hesitation. Hermione would decorate the Gryffindor common room with little blue, pink and white flags in support of a transgender first year who’d just been sorted into Gryffindor. Luna Lovegood would sit and befriend any trans student who looked lonely, and Ginny would dish out a bat bogey hex to anyone who dared pick on them. No matter what JK Rowling thinks, Hogwarts is not hers to ruin. It is ours. Regardless of what makes us different, Hogwarts is our home.

#jk rowling #harry potter #hogwarts #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #slytherin #gay dumbledore #trans rights #edinburgh #professor umbridge #fuck rowling #cursed child is not canon #ron and hermione #lgbtq #lgbt representation #writing

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sullustangin · 3 years

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Theron Shan Week, Prompt 1: Childhood

Corellia, 14 ATC (3639 BBY)

(Post Annihilation, pre-Hutt Cartel)

Word Count: ~3000

Rating: PG/T

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33142732

A whoosh of air.

He touched down on the last building ledge before the street turned into a crater. He recalibrated his jetpack for the potentially dangerous terrain he was about to face below. This job was to be a quick one. Recover personnel data and exfiltrate to the remains of the Coronet Spaceport. Then it was on to Makeb for initial reconnaissance. That job would take more time than this one, but still, it had to be quick. Too much was buzzing there, literally and figuratively…

Theron Shan was willing to bet there’d be boots on the ground not long after the new galactic year rolled in. He leapt from his perch on the building and activated the retroboosters just in time to let himself touch down softly, flexing his foot against the ground to test stability.

Acceptable. Theron switched the pack to standby and fixed his attention on what was beneath his feet. That was always the center of focus now, lest he plunge down into the sewers as the ground gave way.

Before proceeding any further, Theron called up old holostills. Despite the ruin of Coronet City, certain features remained identifiable, and he’d be damned if he was going to go rooting through the wrong building.

He’d done his best to forget this place, after all.

As his implants matched key architectural features and the crumbling skyline, Theron closed his eyes to conjure long-shelved memories.

Yes, he had stood here before. This used to be the gymnasium. He’d spent countless hours there. It was the one place he could fly. It was the last place his body had been perfect.

Well, almost. He’d had an adventurous childhood. There was certainly a difference, however, between slicing his foot on a shell on the Gold Beaches and being shot in some Czerka factory on Telos IV. Theron impulsively ran his tongue over his new teeth. After Ziost, he estimated he had six original teeth left.

Funny how he thought of that in the place he cut his last molars.

That all said, Theron never had a particularly strong opinion about his body. His body was a tool, something he used to serve the Republic and work in the Strategic Information Service.

Just as his boot nudged a sign, covered over in dust, his implants chirped to confirm his location. Using a heavily gloved hand, he crouched to wipe the metal plate just enough to read the lasered words: CORONET CITY MILITARY ACADEMY GYMNA—

The rest of the sign was broken off, probably somewhere in this rubble. It confirmed everything else though, including his own recollections about this place.

As Theron tread carefully through the ruin, his focus was on the rubble under his feet and the map in his implants, augmented by the old memories that ran in his head like holos.

Those were simple tasks, however. Theron’s mind was far more active than that, much to his annoyance. He thought back…

His mind and body had been sharply honed from a young age. The discipline of a Jedi was more than mental. However, he noticed the first hint that something was wrong with him. Theron had to work so hard, and he had to be so much more fit he than the other younglings he occasionally encountered in his travels with Master Zho. Yes, he was strong and athletic and graceful. But Theron struggled. He fought gravity, as others danced with it.

Theron remembered her in particular. The girl who had bested him with such little effort was also the most compassionate of the bunch. She was going to be a great Jedi, he knew it. She barely bent her knees before she could launch high in the air, and she landed silently, as if invisible wings lowered her back to the dusty earth. Theron had to put everything he had into the launch, and the soil puffed up around him in the arid environment as his body displaced it.

She was poetry. He was gutter-speak.

Theron could defeat ill-disciplined younglings, but someone like her – someone who took this just as seriously as he did – outmatched him. He tired long before she did, and it was a mystery to him how her muscles did not ache, how her breath never managed to run out.

It was only in retrospect that Theron realized he had a crush on her. At the time, the warm feeling that had crept across his face whenever she spoke to him, the small flutter his tiny, preteen heart gave – that had been dismissed. Jedi didn’t fall in love. Jedi didn’t have selfish attachments.

Theron wanted to become a padawan on the off-chance he’d be paired with his mother as his master.

The dream changed – it had to – after Haashimut.

Zho left him without telling him he was as Force-null as his biological father likely had been -whoever he was.

Nobody knew who his biological father was.

His mother didn’t come for him. They couldn’t find her.

As he turned 14, Theron was lodged at Coronet City Military Academy. Here.

Theron turned. This was where the lift had been that went down to the basement, where the janitorial offices and the records facility had been. He peered over the edge of the shaft. No, he wasn’t going to risk it. Theron activated the magnetic picks on the toes of his boots, turned the retroboosters to standby, just in case, and he started the dusty, sweaty climb down. The heat that built up reminded him of one particular shame that came over him --

Theron was put on a brief crash course of all the subjects Jedi hasn’t necessarily prioritized in his education to this point.

He discovered his mother was imperfect and had apparently broken the Jedi code. At least once. Theron was evidence – a body of evidence.

He was embarrassed. He felt like he’d been fooled by everyone about his mother, about his abilities, about his life – everything.

The first bubbling of teenage fury rose up in him, and when the school registrar asked for his name, he did not supply “Theron Zho” as he so often had when traveling with his so-called ‘father.’

“My name is Theron Shan.”

Theron hadn’t known at the time that “Shan” was as common as Smith or Parr or K’tilhok in certain corners of the galaxy. He thought he was being defiant. He was one of nineteen Shans in his class at the Coronet City Military Academy. So much for that rebellion, that attempt at scandal that would surely bring her to confront him…to see him for the first time since he was six months old.

Theron always carried that last holo with him… the one of her with him and her. The anger died away when the news reached him that Satele Shan had rediscovered Tython. It wouldn’t be formally founded and populated for another few years, but she had done the impossible. To her credit, she had sent word to the governors of the Academy that she was gratified that Master Zho’s charge Theron had been safely placed in their care.

The business of Tython would be a long process that took time. She was going to be busy.

Theron continued to train his body and maintain the physical fitness he had, even though he was never going to have the opportunity to do a backflip, summon his lightsaber into his hand, and duel a Sith Lord atop of a ship hull or anything like that.

Theron also found out that the kind Jedi youngling had become a padawan. She was killed at the Coruscant temple. He didn’t want to remember her name anymore. It hurt too much, for he had realized that if he had been Force Sensitive, he wouldn’t be here on Corellia in so many ways.

That first Life Day on Corellia, Theron knew the conundrum of his heart being so warm and yet the outside world being so cold as other children went home on weekends and holidays, and he remained in the dormitory. His bed assignment was changed at the end of term, so nobody thought anything was amiss. Everyone’s bed assignment was changed between terms. He wasn’t thought to be any different than other child. His parents just got him late and returned him early, his peers thought. It was impossible that he stayed there for a month by himself.

But he did.

Theron always remembered the janitors that cared for the building and the one chef that remained to feed him and the residential staff. It wasn’t just a holdover from Jedi teachings about equality and respect. He mouthed their names as he passed the doorless thresholds that were once their offices: C’thik. Donya. Thileo. Danodeen. They cared for Theron. He cared about them the best he could.

Something inside Theron hurt any time he had an urge to express his feelings beyond gratitude. Many impulses to hug were suppressed. When he woke up from the formless terror that pursued him in the night, he did want to scream out, in the hopes someone heard him. But he pushed that down. He grew up, or at least he imitated the idea of what he thought was being a grown up.

Theron’s constant presence at the Academy came with the assumption of an unhappy home, so in the second term, it appeared some well-meaning mothers encouraged their sons to befriend him. He remembered some of them. They’d grown up in places like this too.

Theron didn’t remember the names of his … companions? Fellow inmates? all that well. They were good kids. They didn’t get Theron, who was so mature about some stuff but just so oblivious to other stuff, like girls and music and holos and virtual games.

The girls at the Academy were made of braver stuff than the boys were. Theron didn’t know what to make of them, for the most part, but they at least tried to strike up a conversation with him. They asked how he was. He failed, utterly, at small talk, so once their questions were answered, he moved on. The girls were brazen in coming to watch him in the gymnasium. Theron was already in SIS by the time he figured out they hadn’t been interested in the technical merits of his routine.

The boys (with one exception) never got too close to Theron. They were terrified of him after he knocked an upperclassman’s teeth down his throat for trying to shake down the class runt in Theron’s year for his datapad. They still hung out with him, but they watched him with the same fascination they had when they visited the zoo’s jaggalors. He was a creature so fierce they were never even tempted to tap on the glass, see how he was doing, what was going on inside.

The one exception’s name was Arlo, the runt in question, and the datapad was his comic book collection. The collection had been started by his grandfather and maintained by his father and uncle and passed down to the smallest Gran ever born in that family.

Theron thought it was the most wonderful thing to have a hand-me-down anything from anyone.

Arlo wasn’t bothered when Theron asked why he was being trained in the military arts; the Gran had strict career quotas, and everyone was expected to do their part. Arlo was not an obvious candidate for battlefield hero. “I’m in this to get into the intelligence service. SIS.”

That was the first time Theron ever heard of what would become the rest of his life.

In exchange for self-defense lessons, Theron became very knowledgeable about the last 75 years of comic books. It was still the only element of pop culture he kept up with. Theron kept it to himself; his dates never got it. He and Arlo plotted their schedules so that they could train together, study together, and have a free period on the day of the week when the comics hit the holostands. They took the tram to the nearest major holostand – the one near the academy didn’t have comics, possibly at the behest of the commandant. In their minds, nothing was going to stand in the way of them getting into SIS together and seeing the galaxy and fighting the Empire.

…Somewhere in the middle of that, as he stood in the basement, Theron realized he had still been just a child.

Well, this might have been a wasted trip. Theron stood in what remained of the records office. At the back of the room, there was a great kriffing hole that vented down into the sewer he’d been so anxious to avoid, and half the databanks had clearly collapsed into it. If they’d been swept away, then it was game over for Theron. Ugh. The flimsi work he’d have to file.

Then again, it was only half the databanks. He still had a 50/50 chance of success. Theron activated his implants and scanned for the power source. Aha, there. And it had a battery back-up. Theron waited for the full report on the battery’s health before he did anything. He needed to know how much time he had.

He wanted to be done with this place.

Once the battery passed its health screening, Theron sliced in with his implants and booted the entire system up with the clearance codes he’d been given by the current commandant; the one Theron had known was long gone.

Yes, he knew there was corruption. Yes, he knew critical files were missing. Yes, yes, yes, yes, please boot up now –

Would he like an index of available files?

Yes, yes, he would. It would tell him whether this was pointless –

Or not. It was not. The two sets of files he had been instructed to extract and wipe from this system were right there. The Empire hadn’t even realized it had trodden right over vital intel about the agent now known as Technoplague and the SIS Director.

Marcus Trant had been Coronet City Military Academy’s finest alumnus, rising high and fast before, during, and just after the Great Galactic War. His arrival on campus had turned heads. Not Theron’s. Theron remained focused on his study and his physical routine.

It was after Theron had stuck the landing on his floor routine that the man approached him. Theron remembered watching him with wariness until he introduced himself as the Director of SIS. He was seeking recruits for the agency’s early start program. Promising 16 and 17 year-olds could go. Since Theron was a ward of the state, it was entirely his choice; parental permission wasn’t required.

Theron’s first question was whether Arlo could go with him.

Arlo was ultimately sidelined from SIS due to a heart murmur. Even if he was just an analyst, SIS wanted him to be able to handle himself in a blaster fight, and they didn’t want to kill him while training him. That meant he went back home to become a religious scholar.

Theron went to SIS. Arlo gave him a copy of the comic collection, with his father’s permission.

Then the rest of Theron’s life had started.

Theron checked the files to ensure he’d copied everything over before wiping and reformatting those sectors of the database. For Trant, his files could be a wealth of raw data and inspiration; he could have drawn on his experience at the academy to create codenames passcodes, associations. He could have used innocuous childhood memories to create these items. Someone with enough data about Trant’s life could feasibly put the pieces together.

For Theron, it was all about his biometrics: his medical records, his yearbook holos, even his growth charts could be used to identify him in the field as a grown man. The name didn’t matter as much as the evidence of the body.

He was done here. Theron sent the final command to wipe that area of the database and reformat. Trant and Theron were no longer documented alumni here.

As Theron readied his jetpack for exfiltration (he was keeping it simple: up and out), his implants sorted the images attached to the files before sealing them. He saw something.

He paused the process to have a look at his 14-year-old self. He was 14 years and 5 weeks, actually. Zho had sent him to Haashimut 7 weeks before, just before his birthday.

…and he looked terrified. His life had been ripped apart, and he was flying without a safety net or a familiar face anywhere near him. Theron though he heard the whine of a holocam that would signal a great white flash --

Theron pushed back at the memory, as he always had, and he dismissed the holo, letting the sealing process finish. It was over. There was nothing he could do now. He was no longer a failed Jedi Youngling.

…it was all about context. Theron ignited the jetpack and began his ascent out of the ruin of the Academy.

He’d had a good childhood with Master Zho – if he could forget what happened next. In all honesty, nothing awful had happened at Coronet City Military Academy to make him hate the place. It had been his haven between being a Jedi and being an SIS agent. But it was being between lives that had made Theron so miserable: his past was irrelevant and his future was uncertain for almost three years. That was the context that made every moment there excruciating.

But that was done and over with. He was fine. He had his career. Arlo had his career and his ever-expanding comic collection. They still commed once in awhile.

As Theron landed at the spaceport, a message came through his implants from his personal Holonet box. Oh. Karrie.

Kriff, he’d forgotten to tell her –

Kriff. He was off to Makeb and he’d forgotten to tell the girlfriend he wasn’t even on Coruscant.

Well, if she was the girlfriend after that screw-up. He left it on ‘read.’ He’d try to comm her in transit. Theron really did like her. He was pretty sure he was in love with her.

Theron would deal with the personal stuff later. On to Makeb and the next mission.

Neither the Republic presence on the planet or the girlfriend endured the following year.

Author’s Note: I’ve had this sort of headcanon dump file for Theron, and I drew this out of it. I have a few more bits still in it. In terms of timeline, I imagine that after the Treaty of Coruscant was finalized, Satele disappeared to go find Tython for the better part of 18 months. It’s during this period -- as Theron is 13 going on 14 -- that Zho finally gives up on him and Theron leaves the Jedi. Satele finds Tython and finally gets word of Theron’s situation. I decided that “finding Tython” and the “founding of Tython” are two separate events; the Jedi didn’t just move in the second Satele popped up with the good news. So 3653-3651 is a transition period for the Republic, Satele, and Theron at the same time. It’s a new galaxy for the losers of the war.

@theronshanweek-official

#theron shan #theronshanweek2021 #swtor #swtor fan fiction

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dreaminae · 3 years

Text

We All Need The One Friend

Chapter 8

Hours rolled by as sunlight shifted to moonlight. Friendly competition soon became dangerous as personal tensions rose within the group.

"Rise of Batman!" One person guessed of Jordan's pose.

"Transformers!" A friend playfully argued.

Jordan changes poses in hopes that it might be easier to guess.

With time up, Jordan cracked up as everyone failed to guess his term.

"Okay, what even was that?" Simone giggled.

"Back to the future." Jordan responded in a 'duh' tone as if everyone should've known. "Greatest movie of all time!"

"I've never watched that movie in my life." Simone chuckled, "Plus, the greatest movie of all time is Parasite. Hello!"

"Jordan doesn't do subtitles." J.J laughed. "Like have you met my man?"

Everyone joined in the laughter, but Simone couldn't help but feel like it was strange that she hasn't known a small detail like that.

The game went on as Vanessa took the reigns.

"One word." One person shouted.

"A place. No no, a person." Another one added to list of clues.

"Uh, a painting.... a movie." Layla interjected.

"No, a plane. Wait, what?" One of them fumbled over when Vanessa switched stances.

"You're on a plane."

Giggling, Vanessa changed gestures again.

"Bald. You're bald. A bald eagle." J.J guessed.

"No, not an animal." Vanessa choked up.

"Aye, no cheating." Jordan chuckled as Vanessa spoke.

"C'mon guys." Vanessa encouraged, ignoring Jordan's rules. "You had a poster of him in your room when your ten." She spat out in Asher's direction.

"Samuel L. Jackson!" Asher shouted, jumping up as if he won the lottery.

Liv glanced between the two of them as if they grew two heads. It was stupid how one small detail held a bigger picture.

"Well, you don't get a point for that one." Simone scrutinized, gaining a careless shrug from Vanessa.

The game rolled on, leading to Spencer's turn.

Galloping his feet and twirling his arm, Spencer caused everyone to gather into fits of laughter.

"A cowboy," Jordan shouted first.

"The rodeo." Asher chuckled.

"Wild, wild west." Layla joined in, holding back her laughs.

Adding to his performance, Spencer shook his foot hysterically, while twirling his arm like a madman.

Finally catching on to his charade, Olivia thought back to the night she made Spencer rewatch all her favorite childhood movies. Quoting one of her favorite lines, Spencer had her in hysterics for half an hour. She could still remember him using her belt as a rope, shouting 'There's a snake in my boot'.

"Woody," Olivia muttered with a small smile.

"What?" Her brother asked curiously, not completely hearing her response.

"It's woody!" Olivia laughed, which Spencer replied to with a smirk.

They met each other eyes, before bursting out, "There's a snake in my boot!"

The entire group fell out laughing, excluding Layla.

Spencer returned to his seat grinning like an idiot, but couldn't help but to notice his girlfriend's harsh mood.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Layla nodded lightly. "Guess I am just tired." She muttered, not bothering to look in his direction.

Sensing there was more to it, Spencer left it alone, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his friends.

"Alright, I have the perfect game to play next," Vanessa announced, as she returned from the house with her bottle of booze. "Anyone up for a game of Never Have I Ever. The more you've done the more you drink."

Her announcement soured the mood as Spencer immediately shut down her idea. "Sorry, Ma." Spencer asserted firmly. "Ain't bo drinking happening this weekend."

His eyes flew to Olivia, followed by everyone else's. She rolled her eyes at their dramatics.

"Oh, please. Don't stay sober on my account." Olivia dryly encouraged. After all, this was the first time in weeks she'd been completely sober. With all of her friends within proximity this weekend, drinking wasn't an option for her.

Noting Liv's bitter tone towards her, Vanessa tried to ease the tension. "Sorry, Liv. I forget that you don't drink. That was so insensitive of me." She apologized, placing the booze on the ground.

"It's okay. It's not something I'd expected you to know, so.." Liv shrugged it off, dismissing the subject all together.

"No, liquor. Got it." Vanessa summed up, ignoring Liv's clear implied diss of Vanessa's newness to their group.

Asher rubbed Olivia's thigh, silently asking her to lighten up. Cocking up a brow, she gave him her iconic 'I could careless' glare.

"No drinks doesn't mean no turn-up." J.J cheered. "Introducing the burns of all burns -- jalapeno-infused pickle juice."

"What don't you have in that box man?" Spencer questioned, seriously wondering where J.J randoms items came from.

"Let the burns begin."

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

"Alright, never have I ever walked in on my parents doing it." Simone started the game off.

First victim up, Asher gulped down his first dose of the throat burning juice.

"Oh, God. Asher. No!" Olivia cringed.

"I don't wanna talk it." Asher chuckled at the memory. "RV trip...'08....super weird."

"Oh, you're gonna talk about it." Spencer and Jordan laughed together.

"Not the one to up to Sanoma. How could you not to me?" Vanessa asked playfully, catching Olivia's attention yet again.

Liv couldn't help but wonder just how much did Vanessa know about Asher, that she didn't.

"Cause I was scarred for life," Asher replied, oblivious to the questionable expression of Liv's face.

"Alright, my turn. Never have I ever bought 300 dollars shoes for my one night in Vegas." Simone teased Olivia's bad spending habits.

Tensing up, Liv looked everywhere besides at Layla.

"No cheating. Drink up, Liv." Simone laugh, unaware of the big secret she just revealed.

Layla's eyes narrowed in Liv's direction, fed up with the secrets.

Spencer gawked at his girlffriend, realizing that he and Liv might have to come clean sooner than expected.

"Alright, never have I ever said I love you just to get someone to hook up with me." Vanessa added to game.

All the boys drank besides Spencer.

"Yikes, that was a test that you all failed." Vanessa taunted, "Besides Spencer."

"My bro is a real one. When he says it, he means it." J.J admired, increasing the growing tension between Spencer and his love interest.

In Liv's case, her heart clenched at the mentally, replayed memory of Spencer professing his love for her. She yearned to have a chance just to tell him how she felt, despite the chance he no longer felt the same.

However, in Layla's case, all the times that Spencer claimed to love her we're burning in a flame of betrayal. Because despite that fact she had no solid evidence, that conveyed her worse thought she knew Spencer wasn't being truthful with her.

"You're a lucky one, Layla."

Layla's sneer went unheard by the majority of the group besides the two people who knew the jig was up.

Unaware of the conflicts brewing, J.J continued the game. His hand already pointing at his aimed victim.

"Never have I ever ran naked through a football field."

Admitting the embarrassing memory, Jordan gulped back his shot of pickle juice.

"Jordan! Tell me you didn't!" Simone teased.

"Okay. Okay. I did it. I run through the field, butt naked." Jordan chuckled. "What was it? Freshmen year?"

He and J.J chuckled laughed over the recollection.

"Varsity team stole all of our clothes, thanks to Ash -- over here --- acting like he owned the place during tryouts" Jordan recalled funnily.

"Cause I did." Asher cockily popped his collar. "It's called confidence."

"Confidence. Okay." Jordan playfully mocked. "Whatever you want to call it. Your dumbass stays getting us in trouble."

Asher nodded with a knowing smile. But Vanessa saw nothing funny about it.

"Wow." She gasped seriously. "Okay. Never have I ever crapped all over folks that we're supposed to be my friends."

The laughter stopped, and the smiles dropped in reaction to Vanessa switch up.

"Uh, Vanessa it's alright." Asher tried to jump in before she took things too far.

"It's just jokes." Jordan defended himself, not seeing the harm in messing around.

Vanessa's scornful expression was enough for Jordan to see that she couldn't disagree more.

Maybe it was her role as a protective sister that came into play. Perhaps, it was the jealously towards Vanessa knowing things about Asher that Liv didn't. Or maybe it was simply that Liv didn't feel Vanessa had any right to make presumed assumptions on any of the dynamics within their group when Vanessa barely knew any of them beyond a first-name basis.

Whatever it was, Vanessa's attempt to trash talk her twin was Olivia's last straw. And with that, she felt it was only right to return the favor.

"Hmm, well, Never have I ever spent the summer getting to somebody else's boyfriend a little too much." Liv snapped at Vanessa.

"Liv! What the hell!" Asher choked up, unable to believe that she publically humiliated Vanessa in that manner.

"Yo, Ash. Relax. Let's just play the game." Jordan instructed, trying to ease the tension he caused.

"You wanna play? Fine." Asher groaned. "Never have I ever cheated a concussion protocol to play in a game." He added spitefully.

"What is he talking about?" Simone inquired seriously, over the entire game. "You cheated your concussion protocol? How could you not tell me something like that?"

"You mean like you told me about Princeton?" Jordan asked, trying to guilt trip her right back.

"Wow!" Simone gasped in awe, tossing her blanket aside before storming off.

"Ah, babe, wait! I didn't mean it like that!" Jordan quibbled, following behind Simone. "Baby, wait. Sweetie!"

With the fun atmosphere ruined, the remainder of the group broke off to deal with their own problems.

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

"Can you believe Liv?" Asher groaned, as he and Layla entered the kitchen.

"Not really. Find it hard to believe anyone with all the secrets that's been hidden." Layla replied harshly.

"What do you mean?" Asher asked, clueless.

"Simone's Never Have I Ever!" Layla responded in a duh tone. "When has Olivia ever gone to Vegas."

"Olivia wouldn't lie about going to Vegas. She has no reason to." Asher scoffed.

"You mean like she had no reason to lie about being in Mexico." Layla revealed.

"Liv came to Mexico? When?" Asher asked desperately. "She never told me."

"She went to Mexico to surprise her boyfriend." Layla groaned, annoyed that she had to be the one to tell him. "Only when she got there she saw you and random girl boo'd up." She gestured towards Vanessa as the brunette and J.J entered the room.

"Wait, you and Asher?" J.J asked heartbroken, catching the last part of Layla's statement. "Since when?"

"Where's Olivia now?" Asher requested to know, needing to hear all of this from her.

"I don't think that" Spencer began to suggest against going after Liv, but was interrupted by his girlfriend.

"She's down by bonfire," Layla interjected before her boyfriend could continue to shield his side piece from the mess they made.

Bypassing the other three teens, Asher went to find his girlfriend and demand some answers. Meanwhile, Vanessa and J.J left Spencer and Layla to handle their business in private.

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

#3x07 #all american #olivia and spencer #spelivia #olivia baker #spencer and olivia #spencer james #3x06

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lessonsfrommadamexmas · 3 years

Text

Spite and Temptation

Summary: Brigadier General Armstrong needs competent snipers for Fort Briggs and her eyes are set on a certain hawk. While Lieutenant Colonel Mustang knows she doesn’t stand a chance, the dispute seems too entertaining to pass. Link to AO3 (3-chapter fic).

@meridianheroine here it is! Thank you so much for your endless patience.

Chapter 2

The blonde woman’s long hair locks danced with her every hurried step under the burning sunlight. She only had a few minutes before noon and hoped to find the Hawk’s Eye at the shooting range.

The place was quiet due to it being lunch time, Olivier assumed. The young soldier at the front desk looked busier than his surroundings seemed to demand. He informed her that Hawkeye’s time was up, thus offering to take her to the shooting booth.

Olivier saw an unfazed girl whose sharp senses were traduced in her posture as she aimed and fired. Like child’s play.

— Brigadier General Olivier Armstrong — the man announced.

Hawkeye left her rifle down and stood in attention.

— Sir!

— Ease. So you’re the famous Hawk’s Eye. It is nice to meet you.

Compared to the Lieut. Colonel, her demeanor was on the opposite side of the spectrum. Hawkeye, too, had predominantly immature features, but her wide eyes and round jawline were masked by the seriousness and professionalism that reminded Oliver of herself. So far, she was meeting all expectations.

— Honored to meet you, sir. I’ve seen Major Armstrong speak very dearly of you. Coming to shoot?

— Too bad I can’t say the same about that deserter. I’ve come to speak to you, actually. I know it’s lunch time, so I’ll be brief.

— To me?

The general indicated the way out and both of them started walking.

— Briggs is recruiting and you are the perfect candidate for our sniping team. It has been decided in this morning’s meeting that your abilities are better suited for the Northern border, and I was lucky enough to have you around, so I thought I might come personally to deliver the news.

— That’s, again, an honor, sir — she replied, and although showing mild confusion, she didn’t appear to be easily impressed.

— Now, I heard you’re already aiming at a different position.

— That is true. I plan to stay here in the East.

— Under Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, isn’t it?

Judging by the sniper’s surprised look, the general concluded she might have sounded like some creepy stalker.

— We’ve talked just a while ago — she added. — He told me I might find you here, in fact. I confess I was left curious about what led to this choice. I can see right away how different the two of you are.

— I believe we do have things in common, sir. Apparently, we’ve both made a name for ourselves during the war.

— You, however, isn’t the kind to support yourself on a title, am I correct?

— I would say my deeds in Ishval are exactly what I want to be remembered for. Yet, I hope my future contributions to Amestris can surpass my performance in the War of Extermination in some way.

Hawkeye’s fleumatic humor wasn’t easy to read, despite the fact that she was trying to hide a lot less than Mustang. She was simply being herself and there was some kind of passion, or cause, behind her impassive looks which Olivier couldn’t pinpoint.

— In that case, you could stay in the shadow of an alchemist, or you could step up to a leadership role.

— That’s another thing we have in common, sir. I’m the daughter of Berthold Hawkeye. An alchemist from the region known for discovering and developing the powers of Flame Alchemy.

Armstrong couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that intriguing statement. They had a history, then.

— The Lieut. Colonel may be laid-back, but he does his job — the sniper continued. — He mastered Flame Alchemy on his own after my father passed. A power like the one he carries must be protected, especially when it offers little defense. I am certain I’ll be serving my country by serving under the Flame Alchemist, sir. And I am certain First Sergeant Dorovan can provide you other outstanding names for Briggs.

— Very well. This brief conversation only further proved your potential. Tell me you will at least give it a thought. And perhaps seek advice from someone experienced like the First Sergeant, even though you’re a rank higher than her now.

— I wouldn’t refuse your offer so quickly. I appreciate it.

Courtesy. That was the moment Olivier realized why Mustang had been so smug.

Olivier returned to the building reflecting about what else she could do before her departure to Briggs the next day. It wasn’t as if she had to add the Hawk’s Eye to the team. Undoubtedly, General Solon was an ambitious man who strived for the best he could have, and she was no different. The Armstrong family was determined, hardworking and always ready to reach their goals. Those were values passed down their line from generations! Thus, if her mission was to gather the most competent soldiers to Briggs, she would do her part.

— Brigadier General, sir. How did it go?

Not again.

— What a tiny place the Eastern headquarters is, that we keep crossing paths... — she mentioned, allowing suspicion to fill her voice, but didn’t wait for a reply. — I managed to talk to her. Thanks.

— That’s great, sir — he replied, but his eyes were shining to gather further information.

— Who wouldn’t want a sharp soldier working for them, isn’t that right, Lieut. Colonel? Sometimes a good team takes us further than our own individual efforts.

— Our efforts start with good choices, indeed, sir.

— However, you should be able to let go of an officer more needed in a different position.

— General Armstrong, sir. I would never stay in Hawkeye’s way. Especially when there are several aspiring soldiers seeking to work under the Flame Alchemist. However, not every man is eager to climb the ladder like you and I. I’m afraid all I can do is advise her to consider if I see her around.

If he was shaking behind that confidence, she wouldn’t know, but Olivier was more aware of their strong bond by the second. From childhood friends to war comrades wasn’t something to underestimate.

— I wouldn’t ask nothing else. Till next time, Mustang.

— Sir. Have a safe trip back.

As she continued to walk by the endless hallways of the headquarters, the future ruler of Briggs settled for playing with the cards she had. She wouldn’t say Riza Hawkeye was devoid of ambition, in fact, the officer knew exactly what she wanted and, although reserved, her loyalty to her father and admiration for the Flame Alchemist showed. Olivier could hardly fight that, but she could take advantage of it, in order to at least deliver the hawk to Solon.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to spend the rest of her free time trying to coincidently stumble across her target.

That might have been a mistake. She would have preferred to have lunch on a quieter time, instead, decided to try her luck and search for Hawkeye there. In the crowded cafeteria. Olivier had been the smallest of the family for the majority of her life, but never the most subtle one. That short trip was revealing itself more demanding than she expected and the meeting had been the easiest part so far.

She stretched her neck and started to look around discreetly for a blonde soldier with short hair and prominent bang while waiting in line. The two men beside her seemed to notice, but as long as she wasn’t spotted first by the Warrant Officer, she didn’t care. The general turned her attention to all the food on her track. It was time to move to a table and no sign of Hawkeye around.

She took a few steps towards the wall, behind a group of soldiers chatting with their empty tracks in hand, and continued her search. Soon, she spotted a table on the corner where the Warrant Officer ate by herself. All she had to do was walk a straight line and…

— Oh, Warrant Officer. I see you’re almost done, can I sit here?

The woman returned her fork and knife to the plate and replied:

— Sir, of course — Couldn’t find who you were looking for?

Awkward.

— Yeah, you saw me? — she asked casually while taking a sit across from her and placing her track on the table. — At least this table is free in case he still shows up. And you? Giving my proposal any thought?

— I said I would, sir. However, please, don’t keep your hopes up.

Despite all respect Olivier had gathered for Hawkeye, the woman’s stillness was starting to get to her nerves. She needed to shake her up and see what was in there.

— Hawkeye, I believe you aren’t seeing this opportunity for what it is.

— What do you mean, sir?

— Perhaps you see it purely in terms of getting a position, but there’s a lot more you can gain from trying. The North is out of your comfort zone. Nothing like boot camp or the desert night cold, just another kind of challenge. It is for the few and that’s why we go through a period of adaptation, but I don’t think that scares you.

— Some training process?

Finally, there was a sparkle of curiosity in her eyes.

— It could be seen that way. Practical tests to evaluate who’s physically ready for Briggs. I don’t simply bring people to the fort, Hawkeye. I prepare them so that, wherever they go in the future, they’re better. Grab this chance — the general said gazing at her with purpose — and only then decide if you’ll wave it off.

Olivier Armstrong was now betting on the extent of Riza Hawkeye’s loyalty.

[read chapter 3 on AO3]

#Olivier Mira Armstrong #Roy Mustang #riza hawkeye #royai

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relishredshoes · 3 years

Photo

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello CorvusDraconis and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you so much for sitting down with us to chat.

You’re a well known and beloved figure in the SS/HG community for your many stories - including a personal favourite of mine, A chance for happiness.

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name?

I have always had a fascination for the shiny things and the Northwest Coast depictions of Raven the Trickster/Creator, and, I tend to hoard (and get super protective) of my art supplies. Corvids have always been a positive sign in my life. They tend to show up when I’m feeling down and engage in funny antics in the yard. As for dragons, I’ve always had a love for them and think the Western depiction of them as dangerous beasts with no mind but for hoarding treasure and killing people only to be slain by a knight quite despicable.

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

Severus, actually. I see a lot of my life in his. Hardships, challenges, bullying— trying to be something better and later wondering about unwise decisions. I have a very similar dislike for dunderheads, but I do not share his inclination to denude rosebushes of their petals. Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general) I have always preferred fantasy and sci-fi.

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

I am not sure if you would call it a classic novel, but grew up on all things Tolkien (and even puzzled through the Silmarillion at the grand age of seven), and have a special place in my heart for Watership Down. While I’ve read pieces like War and Peace, Iliad, Ulysses, Pride and Prejudice, Grapes of Wrath, Moby Dick, Great Gatsby, Little Women, Catcher in the Rye, Tom Sawyer/Huckleberry Finn, Scarlet Letter, Don Quixote, To Kill a Mockingbird, Animal Farm, Jane Eyre, Lord of the Flies, Tale of Two Cities, Heart of Darkness, Robinson Crusoe, Alice in Wonderland, Great Expectations, Odyssey, Frankenstein, Dracula, Crime and Punishment, Heart of Darkness, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, The Secret Garden, Treasure Island, Anne of Green Gables, Les Misérables, Peter Pan, Gulliver’s Travels, all things Jack London, 20000 Leagues, etc.— they never captured me as aptly as Anne McCaffery’s Dragonriders of Pern or Mercedes Lackley’s the Last Herald Mage. Though, if I were to pick classic stories I read more than once (litmus test for things I like) it would be things such as The Secret Garden, Call of the Wild, Wild Fang, The Hobbit, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and The Last Unicorn. At what age did you start writing? The moment I could pick up pencil and paper, I was writing. I had notepads full of stories I wrote as a kid. Alas, my dad found them one day when I was off to college, made fun of them, and I came home and burned every single one in mortification.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

The moment TV shows did “stupid things” to their characters. I used to write things about Beauty and the Beast (the old CBS show) when they killed off the main character, Knight Rider, Robocop, Transformers— there are probably far more that I just don’t remember now. I was writing it long before there was a fanfiction dot net or a term to even call it. What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? I am a shameless romantic for the beauty within and sometimes the quite literal love for a monster (not just some person who acts like a monster and changes into a better person.) The misunderstood monster is perhaps my most favourite theme, and it shows up in my stories often if not always. What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? I ship SessKag from Inuyasha, Lucard/Sophie from Dracula: The Series, and Loki/Hermione when I’m feeling crossover-y. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? Other than my favourite fanon that Severus lives/survives/finds a better life free of two masters and his guilt, I would say I would want Harry to wise the heck up and realise his father was a swine, his godfather was an almost successful murderer that used his own best mate to try and kill off another student, and his mother wasn’t all that hot either. I would want him to find value in himself without having to make stuff up about his “perfect” parents. Then again, I would want Vernon/Petunia to be arrested for child abuse and put in gaol, but— then the story would have been very different XD Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? Sometimes quiet, sometimes music. But usually, I am best mates with Spotify.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

In the HP universe: I honestly don’t read many of them because I’m always writing my own stuff XD, but when I really feel like I need a good Ron bashing SSHG HEA, I read just about anything by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse. However, that being said, I often return to “The Sun is Often Out” by Hannah-1888 for just the right amount of angst and HEA to make me happy.

In the Inuyasha universe: A Trick of Fate by PristinelyUngifted

In the Marvel universe: Mutual Respect Sends His Regrets by moor

In the Star Trek universe: Gratified By Your Company by starfleetdream

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I go by the seat of my feathered rump, to be honest. Inspiration is a fickle, unpredictable beast, and I usually don’t know what is going to happen until it does.

What is your writing genre of choice?

Fantasy

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

Chance of Happiness because it was my very first publication. It may not have been my best, but it was my first, and it very well could have been my last yet somehow wasn’t.

Looks Can Be Deceiving and One Step Forward, Two Decades Back are two epic tales that seemed to demand being written. The fact I finished them was something I think deserves a little pride.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

Looks started off with me attempted to write Dramione just once. It failed. Draco demanded to be her brother of the heart, Viktor came in and said “nope she’s mine,” and no one was more surprised at the outcome of that story than me. The characters did what THEY wanted.

I learned that trying to plan a story from start to finish is useless when the characters decide what they want. The story demanded more, and I was just a conduit that typed it down. For me, at least, attempting to outline and plan is utterly useless

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

I think every story I write is personal in some way. The inspiration comes from somewhere inside, and I often have no idea what it is until I go back and read it later. I think the story wrote itself in a lot of ways, which made it easier in a way, but there are a lot of things I can’t say were from personal experience because as a high fantasy of talking gryphons and such I can only imagine it. There is no basis in real life on how any of that would go down. There is a freedom in that but also many challenges in making it real enough to identify with despite how alien and fantastic the idea is.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

Dragonriders of Pern introduced sentient dragons and the idea that despite a vast difference in species there could be teamwork and love between the two as they teamed up against a greater threat.

The herald-mage books by Mercedes Lackley were also important staples in my childhood because it impressed the values of responsibility despite having powers others did not, and that people were fallible despite greatness and potential.

Gandalara Cycle by Randall Garrett and Vicki Ann Heydron: I cannot tell you how often I read this story. I had dog ears on these novels because there was so much I loved about them. It was a search for humanity when displaced in a seemingly alien world, societal clashes, and the great sha’um (the giant rideable cats) that were the main characters’ partners for life.

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C Wrede: A princess rebels against her arranged marriage by running away to be a dragon princess.

All of these books had creatures in it that chose to partner with a human and be with them for life, not as lovers that you find in the more modern supernatural romance blender out there, but the ultimate friend for life— the family you choose.

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

Oh heck no. Hah. They have their secrets, and I have mine. Personally, I think mine are more healthy than theirs.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

Very.

I write for myself. Sometimes I’ll write a story for one of my betas or a sshg friend, but for the most part, I write for my own entertainment because nothing like what I write is out there. There is a lot of SSHG out there, but mine is almost always a creature feature story. I blame X-Files growing up. It tickles me that others enjoy my stories, but in the end I write to get things down and out of my head. They just so happen to entertain others as they do me.

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I will often engage in A/N talk at the end of chapters, but I really don’t engage in the fandom. I loathe social media. That being said, I read every review, and while I don’t reply to everything because FF dot net is a horrible platform for messaging anymore (or ever was really)-- I appreciate every single one. Sometimes it helps to know people are enjoying the story for the story’s sake.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

Get a beta, even if you are pretty good at writing. Get one because a second pair of eyes will catch things you don’t. Read your own stuff out loud. If you trip over it, your audience will too. If you stumble, so will they.

Get a beta who isn’t afraid to tell you that your shite stinks in places and you make no sense. You may want a cheerleader, but what you need is a beta. If you are super lucky, you can have both at once.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

I play computer games and sew things. I’ve sewn a lot of things lately. Scrub caps and masks for work—

There has been a lot of writer’s block lately due to the times, and I will not write when I’m uninspired. I will not force inspiration. That’s not fair to me or those unfortunate enough to share in the reading. I want to be able to go back on a story I wrote and enjoy it and not curse at myself. XD

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Sometimes certain catch phrases and things from real life friends have trickled in as a sort of Easter egg (unbeknownst to them since I don’t tell them I write fanfic). Sometimes random news stories or whatnot find their way in. Lessons of the day. Random events. Things that are too odd not to stick in my brain somehow. I can’t say I always do it on purpose, though.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

No, I have a goal this year to finish off the unfinished stories. This is made harder because Dragon and the Rose keeps adding more and more bunnies into the idea bin, and my brain wants to run with them, but I’m like NO DANGIT, I HAVE STUFF TO FINISH STILL! It’s a hard thing trying to finish what you start when so much interesting stuff pops up and waves at you like “heeeeeyyyyy I’m cool too!”

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Keep writing but remember you can always be better. You can always improve. Writing isn’t a popularity contest. It isn’t about how many reviews you get or how many fans you may or may not have. Write because you want to write. Write what you like not what other people like. Write for you because in the end, you are the one who goes back to read it and say “I wrote this story, and I still love it” instead of forcing yourself to write something just because the topic is “popular” and gets a lot of visitors. Write something you’ll be proud to go back and read and enjoy. You’ll find when you write something genuinely, readers will come. And if only one person leaves you a paragraph review on how much your story meant to them out of someone else’s hundreds of “great!” (with nothing else)-- think of what you value more.

If my story helped someone through a dark time.

Just one person—

Then it was a good effort.

Maybe that person didn’t have the bravery to leave a message. Maybe they are ashamed. Maybe they send you a PM instead of a review.

That is, to me, the ultimate reason why I realised that despite writing stories for myself that there are people out there that needed to hear my story at just the right time in their life. If my story can bring a little joy to someone else, then it doesn’t matter how many reviews I have. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have thousands of reviews like “that other author.” What matters is that I told my story; someone out there read it and it spoke to them.

I love hearing from people and what they liked about my stories, but I also am glad that there are some people out there who secretly like my stories but do not feel safe enough to review.

So, I would say to the aspiring author: write for yourself but share it. You never know whose day you will make with your story. They may never tell you. They may tell you years later (happened to me!). There is a good chance that someone out there needs your story as much as you need to write it. That being said, find yourself a beta to share your journey with you. You may find a few friend in the process.

Thanks so much for giving us your time.

You are quite welcome.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ss/hg #snamione #writing

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margarethelstone · 4 years

Text

Our Sleeves Were Wet With Tears | Chapter 1

“They both knew that it wouldn't last, that, come tomorrow, the so undesired feeling of awkwardness would take over them again, to some degree at least. They would pass each other in the corridors and a nod and a smile would be all they might expect; they'd meet at the train station occasionally but fail to exchange more than a few words.

And yet somehow, it was fine. Because for the first time since Taichi's confession, they could hope that the distance they had built was not that of resentment and sorrow, but of mutual respect and readiness to wait.

It was an agreement.”

Read under the cut and on AO3!

Chapter 1

Suddenly, like an explosion, the words Taichi said to me in our first year came back to me.

"Arata will come back someday for sure. Let's get stronger and wait for his return."

Let's get stronger.

Let's wait.

No matter how long it might take or how hard it might be, let's work, let's fight, let's be patient.

That's what Taichi had said, two years ago, as they’d sat on that train and gone home after their meeting with Arata, which only could have been called disastrous at the time. She'd had trouble believing him at first, so big her disappointment had been – so overwhelming the shock she'd felt when their childhood friend had as much as thrown them away from his house, despite all the effort they had put into coming there in the first place. And yet, she couldn't have disregarded his words completely, not with the sight of Arata riding his bike like a madman on the other side of the road and with the calm certainty echoing in Taichi's own voice.

It was his confidence that had made her regain her faith; his quiet presence and stubborn persistence that had prompted her to believe again, to follow the advice she surely would have disregarded if it had been nothing but words.

In a way, she was convinced that even if Arata hadn't shown up on his bike, or if she hadn't seen him for herself, it would have been enough to hear Taichi's comment to make her keep going.

After all, Taichi was never wrong.

She didn't always understand him – in fact, the last few months had shown her how little she did, how many things there were about him that she still couldn't comprehend, or things she had been too blind to notice. His confession to her a few weeks prior had been a blow, only made more painful by the following distancing that had led him all the way to giving up on karuta and their club.

The club they had built from scratch.

Had he really expected her to stay after that?

Her eyes welled up again, as she stared at the photo Arata had sent her – sent them both, she assumed, since it would have made no sense for him not to send it to Taichi as well. No matter how Arata felt about her, or how all of the sudden her two dearest friends had become rivals in more fields than karuta, the fact remained that Arata and Taichi were still friends to one another.

Or at least, she desperately hoped they still thought of each other in those terms.

More tears came and ran swiftly down her cheeks, the bright screen of her phone doing nothing to make her eyes sting any less, but then again, she could hardly bring herself to care. Vaguely aware of the other students standing around her as well as the glances they were currently giving her, she kept looking at the device, at the bright smiles Arata and his new teammates were giving her. They were so glad, so hopeful, so extremely enthusiastic...

They were everything the Mizusawa team had been in the photo she'd sent after they'd qualified for the nationals for the first time, even though she was pretty sure that she'd been crying of happiness on that one.

He will come back someday for sure.

The words came back to her again, once again proving that Taichi's guess hadn't been an incorrect one... Except this time, it was Arata's voice she was hearing and Taichi's name that was being pronounced. It was naive, foolish, even. For all she knew, Arata wasn't even aware that they had left their precious club and therefore, had no intention of going to Omi Jingu like he expected them to.

And yet... There was something about that message, or maybe about the way he looked in the photo that made her nearly certain that he did know, and that this particular email was not sent out to brag. It was meant to remind them of something – to prompt them to take action, just like their visit in Fukui had prompted him to do it before.

He had come back. And so would Taichi, in due time.

And she would let him, without nagging him or pressuring him, without begging him to come back for her sake. Right now, they both needed time to heal; and time she would grant him.

Right after she talked to him one more time.

She was back on her feet in no time, and running towards the library as if her life depended on it. She burst through the door with a force that was as unfitting to the place as it was characteristic of herself, a perfect reverse of her abnormally quiet behaviour that week. She came over to her desk with no hesitation, no waver in her step, and took the bag she'd left there before leaving right after. She missed the amused look the Empress gave her, as well as the proud twinkle of recognition that sparkled in it.

Three minutes later she was out of the room, out of the school, racing towards the train station that was bound to take her to Taichi's home. She made it just in time, red and sweaty, and barely able to breathe, and yet, feeling more glad with herself that she had in the course of those miserable few weeks.

The satisfaction only made her push harder after she'd left the train – she had travelled that distance thousands of times by now and still, she was sure she had never covered it in such a short span.

She had no doubt that Taichi would have called her an idiot for straining herself so badly.

Smiling against the new lump that rose in her throat, Chihaya wiped away the tears that threatened to fall down from her lashes once more and took a deep breath, hoping that her eyes weren't as red as she was afraid they were. After all, the task she was about to commence was not an easy one; she didn't need her appearance to betray her inner state when she tried so hard to keep it concealed.

Especially as she still couldn't be sure who would answer the door this time.

Bracing herself, she took the final step and rang the bell, while simultaneously summoning all of her strength and will in order not to spin on her heel and run away at this most crucial point. She had been determined before, and that particular thing had not changed; however, the longer she waited on the steps of Taichi's house, the more she wondered why she was being made to wait in the first place.

If Taichi was home... if he knew it was her and decided to ignore it...

Well, that would have been enough to discourage the fiercest soul, while at the time, Chihaya couldn't feel anything but the opposite of that.

She was vulnerable and she knew it; and the more time had passed, the more afraid she became of how – and when – her weakness might take over her eventually.

Right when she was about to give in to her anxiety and run away for real, the door opened to reveal none other than Taichi's dauntless mother. The sight made Chihaya's head spin a little, but she pulled herself together quickly, for once feeling that her quest was more important than any of the glares or remarks she may receive in return.

Bowing low before her host, she choked out desperately, "Please forgive me for the interruption. I need to see Taichi. Is he at home?"

She knew it was not a perfect greeting and certainly not judging by Mrs. Pressure's sky-high standards. Still, she could not afford more; every word she pronounced made her come closer to breaking apart again, and the last thing she wanted was to make a spectacle of herself before any of the Mashima family members.

She supposed it was inevitable when she finally stood face to face with Taichi, but that was no reason to let herself crumble before that time.

"Taichi is at the cram school, preparing for his exams." Reiko's cold, impassive answer roused her from her musing. "He'll be going there regularly this year. Has he not told you that?"

"I-" Chihaya stuttered ineloquently, which obviously earned her another stern look from Taichi's mother. She shook her head and straightened up, intent on not bringing even more confusion into this already difficult conversation. "I suspected he might be doing that. I know how serious he is about medical school... But the last few weeks have been a little chaotic for us all, so we didn't get to talk much."

Reiko raised an eyebrow at her.

"Chaotic, you say?"

"Yeah – yes."

"And that's what you need to talk to him about?"

Chihaya felt her heart speed up – the feeling all the more unexpected as at the same time, she could swear her blood had run ice cold in her veins – however, she remained unmoved. Gathering her courage once again, she raised her gaze to look the other woman directly in the eye and replied, "It is. So if... If you could tell me when you expect Taichi to be back home, I will be most grateful."

She waited breathlessly, her whole body itching to flee. Taichi wasn't there; he wouldn't be there for some time, hence, there was literally no point of her staying any second longer than absolutely necessary. She didn't expect his mother to be particularly helpful, either, given the kind of attitude she had always displayed towards her...

...and yet, she stuck around anyway.

As long as Reiko didn't tell her to give it a rest and go home, she would not retreat. As long as there was the tiniest spark of hope to hold onto, she would not back down.

"I don't know that," she heard her answer at last. "He was supposed to return more than an hour ago, however, he called me to say that he would be staying longer. Apparently he has found his tutor to be extremely competent, so he wants to make the most of it before regular school work kicks in too hard. I asked him when he intended to return, but even Taichi couldn't tell me that. I would not expect him for another hour, however, maybe more... So I'm afraid you won't be able to see him at all today."

"I... I see," Chihaya stammered in response, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for telling me. I'll be on my way then. Have a good night, ma'am."

She bowed again and turned around at last, quiet and stunned, her whole posture slumping under that unwelcome new development. She shouldn't have been surprised – shouldn't have been upset. She had assumed that Taichi might not be at home before she'd even reached his household, and the view of his mother opening the door for her had only confirmed her suspicions. The fact that Taichi had decided to stay at the cram school and study longer was hardly astonishing, either – she'd known him long enough to expect nothing less from him.

He could be the most ambitious, most stubborn person she'd come across, if only he chose to be – and, while her own ambitions made her hot-headed and inattentive, her greediness always making her spread herself too thin... Taichi could still remain organised and composed, setting up plans and following them despite the many obstacles that came in his way.

And given how determined he seemed to burn all of his bridges and cut all the ties now...

Focusing on the cram school seemed like the most obvious choice.

And yet, as unsurprising as it was, learning that particular bit of information still managed to leave her feeling empty, as if all hope, all expectations she had built up so far had been sucked out of her by the use of one simple statement. Up until the very last moment, Chihaya had hoped that she might still be able to speak to him that day – even if it meant wandering around the place for the next hour, waiting for Taichi to return, even if it meant going to her own home and then coming back after she received the news of him arriving.

Now, it was clear that neither was possible.

Behind her, she could hear the sound of a door closing. She had to bite her lip to stop it from trembling, but refused to show the signs of resignation that were slowly but surely taking over her. She told herself that it wasn't much of a deal; after all, she and Taichi still attended the same school so if she tried hard enough, she should be able to reach him without that much trouble. It would be difficult and awkward, what with all those people around them... But it wasn't impossible.

If they could reach Arata and get him to respond, then approaching Taichi surely had to be possible as well.

She was mere feet away from the pavement when she felt her phone buzz. It was more of a reflex than anything else, but she pulled it out anyway, not even bothering to guess who it was that was messaging her now. It could have been her mum, or Chitose, or maybe one of the karuta club members wanting to learn how she was faring – after all, just because she'd taken a break from the game and left the club didn't mean that they had stopped being her friends. It could have even been Arata, for all she cared, sharing more information about his own brand new team or asking about why she'd decided to leave hers...

Any other time, she would have had a million ideas as to who might have been the sender and responded enthusiastically to each and every one of them.

Right now, however, there was only one person from whom she wanted to hear.

Sadly, he was also the one person who sure as hell wouldn't have contacted her.

Only after turning the corner did she stop to look at the device in her hand, while silently praying that the message would not require her immediate response, and certainly not a lengthy or particularly eloquent one. She stopped short at the sight of an unfamiliar email address and the message that demanded no reply at all.

It was an address.

"But who would..." she whispered, bemused, her eyes once again glued to her phone screen and a message she'd had no reason to expect. Her question lingered in the air, unfinished as she reread the message, once, twice, three times. She knew the name of the street; the name of the institution mentioned also rang a bell, even if she couldn't quite put her finger on it yet. She nearly jumped when the device vibrated again, announcing the arrival of another message, and from the same person no less.

Taichi's cram school isn't far off from here, you should be fine going there on foot. I take it you can find your way there.

Chihaya's eyes were wide as she skimmed that most recent email, now more than ever astonished with what she was reading. Who could have sent her the address of Taichi's school and with a commentary so direct and – in a way – casual? And now, after she had just talked to his mother and was sent on her merry way? Was it Rika, Taichi's little sister, who had overheard the conversation and decided to help her out behind her mother's back? They weren't exactly friends, if anything, Chihaya would have said that Rika's attitude towards her was just as haughty and belittling as that of Reiko... However, if not her, then who?

Surely, it couldn't have been...

"Mrs. Pressure?!" she cried abruptly, and so loudly that the passer-bys on the parallel streets could be seen startling at the noise. As for Chihaya, her brow rose even higher when she'd shifted her gaze back to the enigmatic email address which under closer inspection proved to be that of Mashima Reiko, indeed. The sudden turn of events made her head go dizzy, just like the sight of the aforementioned woman had just a few minutes earlier.

So she doesn't completely hate me... Chihaya thought, a weak but warm smile blossoming on her overly tired face. Or at least, she doesn't think it would be harmful for me to see Taichi now, which on its own is a big thing. Or does she...

Does she realise how unhappy Taichi is right now and thinks I can help with that?

"Or maybe she knows he hates me and wants me to find out for myself," she added under her breath, her lips curving in a grimace. "I can never tell what that woman really thinks."

She shook her head again, however, ashamed of the reaction she'd just displayed, and even dared to voice. Whatever her intentions were, the message Reiko had sent was a huge help, for which Chihaya decided to remain eternally grateful, regardless of how her talk with Taichi went in the end.

Plus, there was something about that email, something she couldn't point out but felt nonetheless, which seemed much more like a blessing than a trap to her.

Maybe she was being a naive airhead again, but that was what she chose to believe.

"Alright, it's time for action then!" she told herself and slapped her cheeks, this time bringing to herself the attention of those fellow human beings that were closer to her. Focused on her goal, she remained ignorant to their reactions and continued in the same manner, without a trace of hesitation in her, "If I get this right, Taichi is about twenty minutes on foot away from here. I can make it ten. I will make it eight!"

She broke into a run right then and there, not even bothering to put her phone away, and not because she thought she might need to check the address again. She was already late; she couldn't afford a second more.

She'd already screwed up so badly: when Taichi had confessed his love to her and she couldn't have brought herself to answer him openly; when they still practised together but she was too overwhelmed to respond even to the tiniest of signals; when she'd missed the moment when he'd made up his mind about leaving the karuta club; when she had ran after him when she'd finally learnt that but instead of trying to help and understand him, she'd once again focused on her own selfish needs and begged him not to leave her.

Day after day she'd gone on screwing up even more, unable to find the right words she should speak to him, or maybe simply having been too much of a chicken to approach him with the ones she'd had in mind.

He'd called himself a coward, while the only one deserving of that name was her.

I won't screw up again, she repeated to herself in between her long strides. I won't let my fears take the better of me. I'll get to you, Taichi, I'll find you and talk to you and make sure you hear every single word this time. So wait for me! Don't go home just yet, don't make me miss you again! I will reach you this time!

Her eyes were full of tears again, and not because of the wind and dust that blew in her face. She wiped them hastily, again and again, but it was of little use; and yet, while the dark smudges marked her cheeks, her smile grew wide, once again mirroring the hope that seemed to have left her. The faster she ran, the more tired she was, the greater and more positive the emotions that filled her heart became.

Taichi's words resonated in her mind but they were no longer a threat; somewhere along her feverish race they'd turned into a dare, a challenge she had to rise to. It wasn't going to be easy – she still couldn't give him the reaction he wished for, but she could at least face the truth of his feelings towards her and respond to that truth with a clear, honest answer.

He was her best friend in the entire world. And even if he still needed her to step away for a time, she refused to call it anything but a temporary change.

She was willing to give him space and freedom, if that was what he wanted from her – but she could not imagine a scenario in which she let their friendship end without putting up a fight first.

She wasn't capable of letting him go like this.

She was way too greedy for that.

And she cared for him too much.

"I love you," he had said. "I love the fingernails that you never grow. I love your fingers and your hair, and the mouth you open wide like an idiot. I love your face when you laugh. I love you."

He'd found so many ways to tell her the same, single truth, when he could have easily backed off. Taichi was clever, there was no way that he couldn't grasp her reaction from the very first moments of that stunned, hollow silence that had come over them because she couldn't have uttered a single word on her part. He'd known that she would not respond in kind, that she would not accept him, no matter how long he might have waited for her.

She knew their friendship meant the world to him, too, and so he'd had every reason to retreat and turn the tables again. If he had told her it was a joke – if he'd said that it was just a dumb prank and she was silly to take any of it seriously, she would have believed him.

And yet, he hadn't. In fact, he'd done the opposite, pushing forward until it was all out in the open. Every feeling he'd suppressed, every ounce of affection he'd spent years hiding from her, it was there; even if it hadn't resonated fully in his words, it'd still been reflected in his body, his expression, in the way he'd looked at her. Those big, bright eyes so full of tenderness she'd never been allowed to see, or maybe simply had failed to recognise.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

He had given himself up, made himself completely and entirely vulnerable. Hers to take, and hers to reject. He had offered her his heart, even though he must have known how slim his chances had been.

She had taken that heart and crushed it, and hadn't even had the guts to tell him why.

She arrived at the cram school, one full minute before her proclaimed eight. She stood there for a while, panting, gasping for air she couldn't well take because she kept choking on her sobs. Her hair was a mess, long locks sticking out in all directions while her face was smeared with the mixture of her tears and the dust that had accumulated on her cheeks when she'd dashed towards her destination, the result only made worse by her constant rubbing when she'd tried to wipe the tears away.

She sure was glad that she wasn't wearing any mascara that day – though on the other hand, she very much doubted that it would have changed much.

Focus, she chided herself, simultaneously reaching up to comb her hair with her fingers and contemplating whether or not she should bind it. I'd say it doesn't matter how I look – I'm not here to make an impression, only to talk to him. But Taichi is perceptive... he will notice that something is wrong. And I don’t want him thinking about me today.

She took a deep breath, then another. She straightened up and squared her shoulders, readying herself in the same way she had before ringing at the Mashima residence earlier on, her left hand still buried in the maze of fair strands, while she rummaged through her bag with her right. Somehow, she managed to find a – moderately – clean towel that could be used to clear up her face. She got to work right after, still unsure of how much time she actually had, yet determined not to waste a second.

She didn't have a mirror to look into and make sure that she was presentable enough. She was Ayase Chihaya, a pretty nitwit who never remembered to carry anything that girls like Chitose (her own sister) or Hanano (her surprisingly supportive friend) would have deemed indispensable in a young girl's bag.

A true beauty in vain who couldn't even make sure that she looked decent enough when it mattered.

She heard a noise coming from in front of her and raised her gaze instinctively. With her eyes fixed on the front door, she pricked up her ears, waiting for another sound to come and carry the information she was so eager to learn. Was it Taichi that had made the first one? Was it because he was close to the door, preparing to leave? Or was the sound a random one, and not an announcement of his departure? What was the chance that it had been him that had made it?

She waited impatiently but no other noise came. She supposed it was to be expected – the one she'd heard before was probably caused by some incident, like someone walking into a trash can, so definitely not something people did every day. Besides, even if it had been someone readying themselves to leave, what reasons did she have to think it would be Taichi she'd see come out?

It was foolish to expect him right after she'd got there.

Timing like that didn't happen in everyday life.

And yet, as if to refute her scepticism with a miracle that should not have been possible, the door was cracked open, and she saw Taichi standing in it. With one hand on the handle and one foot over the threshold, his body was still mostly turned to the inside of the building as he said his goodbyes to whoever was in charge. Posed like this, he obviously couldn't see her; but it was only a matter of seconds before he turned again and crossed the doorstep, and then he would have no choice but to face her.

For what seemed like a hundredth time that day, Chihaya felt her heart slow down so much that it seemed to have stopped beating at all, only to pick up its pace with double force a short moment later.

She wasn't ready to meet him and yet, all she prayed for was that he wouldn't run away from her before she could tell him what she had come to say.

Lost in her pleading, she instinctively closed her eyes and thus missed the very moment she'd been so anxious to come upon. It was right after her eyelids closed and her head lowered in a small bow that Taichi did turn around and saw her – and she was too busy clenching her fists and muttering wishes to witness it.

Too much of a mess to properly greet him.

She didn't see the shock that reflected on his countenance when he recognised her. His widened eyes and raised brow, the slight gap between his parted lips, the way his cheeks flushed against his knowledge and will – it was all lost on her, not because she didn't care but because she cared too much.

They stood like this for a while: he, unable to speak because of his astonishment and she, so determined not to miss her chance that she'd become unaware of the world around her. If Taichi had decided to walk past her, she wouldn't have noticed until he was a good few metres behind her.

She would have missed the chance the Heavens had granted her, and all because she was so afraid of that very thing happening.

And yet, the same Taichi who had done his best to ignore her at school – the same boy she'd expected to flee at the sight of her or at best, to say his 'hello' coolly and leave her behind right after – the same boy still stood at the top of the stairs that led to the building, eyeing her cautiously, unhurriedly, as if it was both the first and the last time he'd been given the chance to look at her like that.

His face showed a full range of emotions, from surprise to confusion, to anger, to eagerness, before he eventually managed to summon his trademark stoicism and successfully hide all of those feelings behind a mask of indifference he'd been forced to wear before her so many times before, for both their sakes.

Lost in her thoughts, Chihaya didn't see any of that.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. The simple question was enough to make her bubble pop and spatter into a thousand million drops, a soft, warm mist that now fell down around her. "Shouldn't you still be at school, studying? Or I don't know, at home?"

Unlike the burning feelings swirling inside her, Taichi's words were cold, icy even. His tone bore no emotion and his face was, yet again, an inscrutable mask, one that she'd come to hate so fiercely, because she now knew how much was hidden underneath.

"Why, Taichi? Why do you do everything alone?"

Why don't you trust us?

Why don't you trust me?

He hadn't trusted her before – how could she expect him to trust her now?

"I couldn't focus in the library," she replied, a little too fervently, just like she always did. "I tried for hours, but I wasn't learning anything."

Taichi turned his head away, huffing. "Nothing new there. But that hardly explains why you are here."

"You weren't at home. Your mum gave me this address."

"And why were you at my home of all places?" he asked again, his aloofness fading away a little in favour of genuine curiosity, although it was clear that he still wanted to keep up some of his walls standing. "You haven't been there in ages, it's not like you've had a chance to leave something behind and had to pick it up. And no offence, but hell will freeze over before my mother invites you for a chitchat."

"I wasn't there to see your mum," Chihaya answered him. Her gaze was still locked with his and her chin was raised high, as if she'd wanted to prove that his frigid responses weren't enough to intimidate her... but her voice was quiet and certainly not as firm as she would've liked it to be. Still, she kept going. "I came to see you. And you weren't there."

"But why?" Taichi wouldn't give up. "Why didn't you just look for me at school today? Or, if it was more recent, why not tomorrow? Gosh, Chihaya, you could have called me..."

"Don't you act as if it was so easy to catch you between classes," she replied with annoyance, her usual fire kicking in again. "I barely see you at all. And it's not something I want to talk about on the phone, either."

Silence fell over them again, Chihaya's words still echoing between them. She was looking at Taichi now, and so this time, she could see the change in his features perfectly. The alterations weren't big: a slightly more focused gaze, the most insignificant narrowing of his eyes, the fingers that twitched as if they'd been about to curl into fists but were stopped violently at the very last moment.

Her own vision had never been anywhere near as good as her hearing; she wasn't the most observant person, either. In fact, most of the time, she was downright oblivious...

And yet, she hadn't missed any of his microexpressions this time.

"Stupid," he said eventually, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his trousers and fixing his eyes on the ground before him. "What could you possibly have to say that I need to hear in person?"

And there it was, the susceptibility he'd been trying so hard to conceal but failed to do so in the end, not because he hadn't worked hard enough but because Chihaya's senses made it impossible for her to fall for any pretence on his part. It wasn't just her hearing, or just the fact that she'd known him for years, or even that she was more concentrated now than she had been in the toughest, most demanding of matches – but the combination of all those, additionally supported by her own enhanced sensitivity, that had made it possible for her to see through his defences more clearly than when he had taken them down for her himself.

She did it against his will and against his wishes, and somehow, it worked miraculously.

"You're not a coward!" she exclaimed with as much passion as she could muster, loudly, confidently, despite the tears that were once again gathering in back of her eyes and the tightening of her throat that she couldn't have prevented. "You said you wanted to become someone who isn't one, but that would mean that you are a coward now, and must change to achieve that. And I refuse to believe that!"

She inhaled sharply and blinked in order to keep the annoying, salty drops from falling down too soon. Her golden irises shone with tears and zeal alike; captivated by the vision, Taichi failed to use his only chance to interrupt her speech this time.

"You're not a coward," she repeated, with the same tenacity ringing in her tone. "Even if that's what you think you are, or what you were back then... It doesn't matter anymore. It's all in the past, Taichi, because you have already changed. Without even realising it, you've grown, so much that sometimes I catch myself not recognising you, regardless of how long we've known one another. Just those last two years we spent together prove beyond doubt that you couldn't be further from giving in to your fears and giving up, which is exactly what cowards do. You're ambitious and determined, and you don't let failures get in your way.

"And if you still think this isn't enough," she picked up after another short pause. "If you still need evidence greater than that... Then know that telling me about what happened when we were in sixth grade – telling me about what really happened to Arata's glasses, and after all these years... That is the greatest sign of courage to me."

She didn't say anything else, letting her words reverberate, not expecting to receive an answer to her ardent, most heartfelt speech, but leaving it for Taichi to discern and interpret for himself. She hadn't come here to argue with him, after all. The subject was still too sore for them both and besides, she knew that no discussion could do them any good.

She'd come to meet him to tell him this one specific thing, because something in her had told her that it was important and that Taichi should be allowed to see it as well. It was the one burden she could lift from his shoulders and therefore, she had to. She knew that compared to all the misery she'd caused him, it was not even a beginning of repayment... however, she had to do something.

She wasn't going to do more, though. She wasn't wanted here anymore, she wasn't needed. She'd fulfilled her quest and was not eager to cross the boundaries again.

Slowly, attentively, she bowed her head and cast down her eyes, a silent 'goodbye' that was better left unsaid.

Then she turned and walked away towards the gate.

It took all of her strength not to break into a sprint again.

#Our Sleeves Were Wet With Tears #chihayafuru #taichihaya #mashima taichi #ayase chihaya #IT IS HERE GUYS #I really wasn't planning to publish it for weeks and yet here i am doing it #so i hope you enjoy and make me feel obliged to work on those next parts and the art for it

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bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 3 years

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What Keeps You Up at Night part 2: Michael Knights Pov

Bonnie’s POV X

Dedicated to @aspacerat1 and two other people who begged me to write this.

For most silence is craveable, worth more than its own weight in gold. However, for Michael Knight, the quiet is intrusive. An invading force that extends its wicked tendrils into corners of his life he'd prefer to leave undisturbed. He had enough personal demons plaguing him without reawakening those wicked wraiths left to slumber in the wakes of the past.

Stirring, walking, and working forced those unsettling spirits to remain cast out to bay where they belonged. Observant azure orbs behold Wilton’s garage, taking note of the thermal pools of light exuding from within. Michael pauses outside the industrial doors, his fingers clasped around the solid steel handle. Dare he interlope on the work being done within? Would Bonnie be receptive to the encroachment on her territory at this hour? Or should he travel onwards like the wayfaring soldier he was? Warring deliberation is evident upon his striking face though it rests in the realms of darkness. The unyielding urge to investigate eventually wins over.

Barstow hears him though his practiced steps are hushed. A fact, he deduces, comes from having been snuck up on one too many times. He is pleasantly surprised when she does not berate his nosiness but rather, welcomes it. A whimsical Cheshire-cat-like grin snakes across his lips at her prodding. “Ya know, Bons, I could say the same thing.” He casually leans his weight against Kitt’s door.

For posterity's sake, he casts a glance down at his watch. His azure orbs briefly denote the time. It’s the bewitching hour of three when thick blankets of fog cuddle close to the ground and envelope everything including the skyscrapers of the far-off city. Darkness has not yet tasted the welcoming vibrancy of sunlight. Even still, the sky is gradually perfecting a reverse ombre. Thoughts of any realm outside the present garage fizzle into nothingness.

Michael is genuinely touched by her obvious concern. His lips part ways with a gentler, more tame smile. “I’m fine.” Suddenly, he is overly conscious about the focus of her eyes flashing over him. His large hand smooths through the luxuriously thick tangles of his dark curls, hoping to bring some measure of order to the otherwise half disheveled and unruly appearance. After a pause, he finally embellishes his answer to her question. “Figured I might as well make myself useful since I can’t sleep.” Devon surely had mountainous stacks of manila folders laying around with new cases. Some of them might even become the Foundation’s priority before too long. Yet, he’s not really interested in swimming through the black inked collections of information. By preference, he invests fully in his favorite prepossessing coworker.

His azure eyes practically glow, wired by mild disquietude as if they were neon lights when she lets out a huff. Had he ventured to ask something he shouldn’t have? He is about to apologize for any offense he may have dealt her when she finally begins to speak. Any semblance of a smile completely evaporates. Her first answer to his inquiry felt deliberately vague but in a way, he fully understood it. There had been so many instantaneous reactions and so many moments over the years that he would amend if he was ever given such an opportunity. Lingering at the top of that very list was the way he spoke to the poor dying Wilton Knight the day he stormed into the garage. Devon said Michael had just struck a dying man. That phraseology though simple haunted him still. He’d spend the rest of his life wishing he could take those venom-laced words back.

Sympathetically, Michael nods. In existence, there were probably a trillion comforting words he could offer. Begrudgingly, not a singular term would willfully lend itself to snuffing out her quieted sufferings. Even still, he refused to be dismissive of her pain. “I get it. Trust me, I do.” And the hideous truth was, he painfully did comprehend. He waits till she stands to draw nearer. “Look I know you don’t need me to tell you this,” Michael starts, “but there’s no use in torturing yourself over the past. It just takes your mind away from your present.” A pause. “Besides, every mistake is a lesson propelling you on your way to success.”

“You stole that off some cheesy poster, didn’t you?” Bonnie playfully accuses.

Bonnie wasn’t wrong. He had pilfered some of it but adapted it to fit in his own lax lexicon. Notes of cheerfulness begin to creep back into his countenance and it is denoted in the softening of his eyes. “Well, it’s more like borrowed,” he cheekily returned. Stealing was such a dirty term.

Bon’s next confession cuts him to the quick. He felt as though he had been sucker-punched. The strangled breath that he emits attests to the awful palpable sensation of having been viciously belted by her words. “Bons...” Her nickname is expelled reverently, in the form of a near prayerful whisper. His hands which had been mindful of respecting her personal space now lurch forward, gingerly collapsing around the slopes of her shoulders. He swallows sharply with the realization of just how much responsibility she allowed to weigh down upon her shoulders. They’ve had their share of close calls but not a single one of them had occurred as a result of anything Bonnie had done. Michael couldn’t fathom how she’d ever shift that blame to herself.

Making sure he is holding her gaze, he speaks again. “You’ve never let either of us down. No matter how hopeless our situations have been. I know you constantly say that you’re a scientist, not a miracle worker, but I tend to think of you as both. Without your skills and expertise, neither of us would be here.” His chord is full of unwavering conviction. “I know you, Bon. You will never let Kitt and I peel out of this garage if you genuinely thought we would not return in, at the very least, a salvageable condition.” He knows that this will probably do little to assuage her fears. Yet, he is trying. Michael allows one hand to depart her shoulder to cup her face. His thumb purposefully swipes slow strokes across the smooth globe of her cheekbone half-committing her beauty to memory.

He can discern wisps of terror coiling through those turquoise pools of hers and immediately, his poor heart gives off a series of terrible thrashing pangs. He desired to remove that fear from her, to let her know that he and Kitt are always going to return to her. Perhaps, he thinks to himself; he should take some measures towards being less feckless. “We’re safe. We’re going to stay that way. I promise.” Sure, he knows he ought not to make vows that he is uncertain he can keep but it feels exceedingly important in this very moment to do just that.

He can feel unintentional crater-like chinks forming in his armor both physical and emotional. Shielding her from bearing witness to anything that may translate into the depths of his eyes, Michael opts to press a doting kiss to the expanse of her forehead. It’s a sin. He knows. But he allows the cracked leather of his lips to remain against the warm silk of her skin for a touch longer than he ought. While there, he reveled in the familiar scents of her shampoo and body wash. Man, oh man, he jealously coveted her the way pirates did their treasures.

Barstow’s question causes Knight to unintentionally recoil. It’s something he hadn’t allowed his mind to ruminate on. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he thought about the causes behind his insomnia. Withdrawing his lips and taking a step back, he elects to gaze upon her countenance. She deserved nothing but an honest answer.

The unspoken reply hits Michael the way a barreling freight train might. With every click along the tracks shot fleeting shadows, hollow phantoms of faces and places, resurrecting images imprinted on his mind. Whether they were imagined or real or an unholy collision of the two, he could not distinguish. There was nothing concrete left in the whirlwind the question created and still, the sparks felt indelible. Among these things, Michael dared not give a voice were: oppressively thick jungles with flickering silhouettes of soldiers traversing cautiously through them, glints off of silver and gold shields with the towering engraving of city hall etched in them and the casts of red and blue flashing lights, hot Nevada nights, his father and mother or a man and woman with near enough resemblance to Long, American flags draped over caskets, super-nova like bursts of light from guns being fired, and something- something way back in the blur of memory. He thinks though it is with no absolute clarity, that it might have been home. No. It is not his current place of residence but rather that of his, correction Michael Long’s, childhood. Having taken two bullets to the skull had done little to preserve the things most other people could never forget. Tanya Walker’s bullet managed to wipe out the most solid impressions of the past. While he was grateful not to relive a majority of the horrors and atrocities of Nam, he mourned the loss of recollection towards the rest of Michael Long’s life.

Somewhere along the way, the unspoken reminiscing to the lost voices of the past derails. It takes a wrong turn, spinning on an axis until it conjures up feelings of dread, anxiety, and intense anger. His fingers curl up, clenching tight at his side before going lax again. Just as quickly as the negative emotions arrived, they vanish.

Embarrassment flushes across his cheeks when he realizes that she is patiently staring and he had not given her a response. He had been floundering, drowning without hope of rescue, in things he couldn’t entirely understand himself. He’s never been raw and open about any of his wounds. Discussing them wasn’t going to be an easy feat.

Despite Michael Knight’s outward confidence, insecurities dogged his every step. “Sometimes,” he starts, his voice unusually gravely and husky. “Sometimes I lay awake, wondering why Wilton Knight chose me to carry on his legacy instead of someone else. Instead of Devon or .... or any number of readily available people.” His tongue trails briefly over the jagged edges of his lips. “If anyone deserved a second chance at life, Muntzy did.” It is a fact Michael whole-heartedly believed. He would have traded his life a hundred times over to ensure that poor Rebecca (Muntzy’s wife) and his three little girls wouldn’t have to face a life without their father.

Bonnie listened intently. Her eyes never daring to depart from him. She is so astonished by the revelation, that she finds herself at a rare loss for words. Her brows furrow in disbelief. In her mind, she never questioned Michael’s appointment to FLAG’s most trusted operative. Devon might have earned the position were he younger, more nimble, and less inclined towards a life of predictability. Sure, he had been wild in his youth but those days were long tossed to the wind. Regardless, Wilton had always been startlingly confident in his choice! There had been no doubt in his mind to Michael’s worthiness.

In a softer agonized tone, he rhetorically prods, “why me of all people?” He didn’t fancy himself as being overly special but more than that, he didn’t feel deserving of Wilton Knight’s incredible mantle. The extraordinary burden of which had been thrust upon his shoulders without his ever being asked with the demand that he walks away from everything and everyone he cherished. There hadn’t been one single moment where Michael had been gifted the opportunity to turn back. Michael Long was dead. “What if I cease to make him proud? What if one man isn’t enough to make a difference?” He shifts uncomfortably. His hands briefly delving into the denim pockets of his jeans. His eyes dart around the garage before returning to her. Where he expected to find judgement, he found only empathy. Before she can open her mouth to further comment, he changes the subject.

Taking one of the cleaner rags he could find nearby, he starts running it along Kitt’s outer shell. It was easier to focus when he could be doing some menial task or other. Or so, he tells himself. “There are some nights where fragments of intelligence missions in Nam and my early days of police work come back to me. Can’t make odds or ends outta them but I know they’re there. They’re hopelessly jumbled like a tangled ball of yarn.” It was hard to put to words unless one had experienced it for themselves. It was like trying to recreate a phenomenal recipe with no real idea of what ingredients went into it. Even if you did, by some miracle, manage to secure all of the ingredients, there was still a mystery pertaining to measurements. When they’re all mixed together, it never really turns out like the original. Now, does it? Heck, sometimes it didn’t make for even a shallow reproduction.

When he tried to connect the dots of things that happened in Nam and on the big bad streets of Nevada and Los Angeles, they came out pixilated a kaleidoscope of images woven tightly together. Everything would shift and warp with the slightest touch, altering in their entirety. Reality or fiction? It was impossible to discern which category each memory should be assigned to. There is no one he could ask to assist him with the task of making distinctions. A majority of his work gathering intel reports and sending them along in a timely manner had been highly classified. Worse still, there were no war or cop buddies who were made privy to the knowledge of Michael Long’s rebirth into Michael Knight. He had to circumnavigate lapses in memory on his own.

Relinquishing a frustrated breath, he continues in a low voice, “ there are nights when I close my eyes and see her. I see Tanya and that sharp burst of yellow light from the gun...” The words feel thick and he chokes a little. A frigid chill creeps down every vertebra in his spine. Even talking about it makes him recoil. He knows Bonnie wouldn’t ask him to further elaborate. She knows about the accident and a good bit of the aftermath.

Turning back to her with a plaintive expression, he decides to confess a terror that made every drop of his blood turn to ice. “Hear me out,” he starts, abandoning the cloth rag on Kitt’s T-top so that his hands might return to Bonnie’s frame. He hesitates, pulling his hands away from her shoulders at the last second and opting to cradle her face. “Those things are all intense but thoughts of losing you are by far the worst.” He spoke in a manner that left no debate towards his sincerity. Azure orbs vigorously drink her in. He’s lost one love and he made a vow before heaven and earth that he would stop at nothing to protect her.

#answered ask #bonniebarstowofflag #Michael Knight #Knight Rider #because they don't deal with his trauma like ever or let him talk about it #forgive me as Michael is not my main muse #this got far longer than expected #bonnie barstow

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ziamhaze · 3 years

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Hi, I hope you're well! I just want to start off by thanking you for all the wonderful fics you have blessed me with!

I just finished Red vs. Black and was hoping you wouldn't mind answering some questions I have. As someone who risks his own life to save others, how does Liam justify being with someone he knows has killed innocent people? It'd be one thing if Zayn had only killed those directly involved with what happened to his family, but he's killed innocent civilians over minor inconveniences (such as the teenagers in the convertible). Does Zayn still think he is justified in doing so? Does he ever feel guilty about it? If not, how would Liam and Zayn be compatible if their moral compasses are so different?

Also, did Zayn's father ever make his way to the UK? Or was that just a lie he told Zayn to comfort him? Does Zayn ever find his family, especially his younger sister?

I know it's a lot, but I'd really love to hear your answers if you want to give them! Again thank you for all of your wonderful works!

So sorry it’s taken me this long to reply, but I didn’t forget!

To start I’d like to thank you for clicking, and finishing, Red vs. Black. It isn’t the shortest of fics, nor is it the most delicate - to put it lightly. For the latter alone, thank you.

These are such poignant, important questions. Ones that are nearly word for word what I asked myself while planning the ending.

SPOILERS FOR ALL OF RED VS. BLACK

1) How does Liam stay with Zayn after learning of all his senseless killings?

Honestly, I questioned this the most when feeling out the concept. As a fic writer it’s expected of me to write not only a romance, but also a happy ending. Of course fics exist that do neither, but they’re very rare and not exactly well-loved. And truthfully, a massive point that I wanted to get across - and which in effect answers this question - is that despite people’s pasts, they cannot overcome them without being given the opportunity. 100%. No ands, ifs, or buts. For a prisoner to assimilate back into society and not go back to their old ways, they need to be trusted with a job. With a salary (no matter how small), they need to trust themselves to be able to not buy anything that may contribute to poor habits: drugs, alcohol, weapons, gambling, a means of transport that will give them the ability to visit bad influences (more of a psychological thing, but still). A lot of prisoners are never given this opportunity (especially in the United States), and therefore fall back into their old ways, which are more often than not coping mechanisms to deal with the fact that they can’t fit into society as easily as privileged people to begin with; it’s a terrible cycle. However, there are plenty of success stories of those that truly wish to change and are lucky enough to stumble upon an employer or mentor or sponsor of some sort that hands them an inkling of hope/trust that they use to fight their way back up. The fic is fantasy, and while Zayn’s story is rooted in real world PTSD, I think the prisoner analogy is easy for us to envision and therefore, understand why Liam acts the way he does. I also made it a point in the last scene when they’re talking things out to have Liam voice his contingency: if Zayn so much as spits at anyone, he’s done for. That’s to say, he’s not wiping his slate clean just yet.

2) Does Zayn still feel his useless killings were justified?

I’m going to answer assuming that you’re referring to the time after the fic ends.

Looking back at his actions is something that would be inevitable when he starts therapy, and this is a perfect example of one of the questions his therapist would ask. You may not like my answer, but as an author I find it imperative that I speak of my characters realistically and to keep them true, not how I want them to act. That said, yes, Zayn would still find justification in why he’s done what he’s done.

There are a few instances in the story where this is actually explained. Take the scene in the bar with fancy mixologists. Zayn begins to get aggravated over the people in the room simply because they’re ignorant to the feeling of significant pain. There’s also the scene where he’s back home in Cheshire and Harry straight out tells him, he may be furious at the unfairness of the world, but he needs to learn how to come to terms with it. It’s not going to change. This right here is what a therapist would work with him to do, and also why I had Harry be the one to bring this up in the story - he is one.

I know it sounds incredibly foreign to the average person, but trust me when I say that people struggling with anger problems founded in (un)fairness, exist. I’ve spoken with professionals about it. Add on crippling childhood PTSD and a villain like Zayn can definitely be born. It’s why treatment is needed, and why the answer is ‘yes’ in the beginning of Zayn’s journey to peace. When his answer switches over to ‘no’, that’s when it’ll be outwardly apparent that he’s beating his ailment. Unfortunately, for many, the inner battle with mental health is lifelong; the answer ‘no’ will never turn solid.

3) Does Zayn feel guilty about the above?

Again, there are a couple times when I write Zayn to literally mention how he feels zero guilt. However, if you really really pay attention you’ll notice that these instances aren’t villain related.

For example, meeting Liam’s parents:

After handing his father and Zayn each their tea, Liam looks between them suspiciously. "Leaving the two of you in a room together was a bad idea."

"Don't know what you're on about," Geoff replies innocently. "We were just talking about cars, weren't we Zayn?" Even with all eyes on him, the pressure of lying doesn't get to Zayn. It never does.

"Yeah," he agrees, bringing his drink up to his lips carefully, "cars."

Or, after Zayn walks out from the comedy club:

"It takes a lot of courage to get up there and do something like that, don't you think?"

"Not really."

Liam looks to the side, hoping that he can interpret more from Zayn's answers by seeing the expressions that go with their frankness. "So if I signed you up, you would do it?"

"Why would I want to make a room full of strangers laugh?" Zayn retorts, his right eye scrunching up in distaste, like it's a mannerism of his provoked by moronic questions. "I don't have a superiority complex." Liam thinks he might, but. "I know I'm better than those people, no mediocracy to cover up here."

So we’ve got those, but then we’ve also got this massive character point:

Right as the last of the snake's body emerges, Zayn snaps his fingers, triggering heavy hip-hop music to flow through his headphones and drown out the man's blood curdling cry.

If he could permanently damage people who deserved it, not always because they did something to Zayn, but because he liked to play god and throw them a massive curveball like life had done to him, then why shouldn't he? So long as he pulls his soundproof headphones off the little robot on the inside of his right arm to avoid listening to the pain his choice brutality caused, there's no valid reason he shouldn't take advantage of the gift he was given.

From where he's sitting, he probably won't be able to hear anything, but he fastens the equipment over his ears just in case.

All at once, the atmospheric sounds of central London, mixed with the terrified screams of those in the burning building beneath them, hit Zayn at full force. The sensory overload alone would normally be enough to piss him off, but tack on his protection from audible trauma being taken and being spoken to while in villain mode, and he's seeing red as deep as the pits of hell he knows he's destined for.

I wrote Zayn’s headphone usage as a way to alert that the reader that he does, in fact, feel villain-related guilt. He can’t act on his anger without them on. He’ll have his victims screams stuck in his head, and he’d never be able to handle that a.k.a. there’s zero satisfaction from their literal pain. Think about that and it’ll answer your follow-up question.

4) What happened to Zayn’s family?

Zayn’s father meant what he said - he’d do whatever he needed to reunite his family. That wasn’t a falsity at all. The problem is money. And politics, but let’s start with the issue of money. It took Yaser nine years to save up the amount he paid to have Zayn and Waliyha smuggled across the border. The whole concept of smuggling is that it’s a cheaper option than the legal one. So if we look at this, you can see how long it would take him to save for three adult visa fees, three adult plane tickets, and enough to stay afloat for a month or so when they get to England. Now add in the politics of the early 2000s and the Afghanistan/Pakistan region. We know that Yaser fixed air conditioners for a living. No person with that average of a background is going to have an easy time immigrating anywhere. Even so, would it really take him over 18 years? While it’s plausible, perhaps a man with such determination would find another way. Or...was that unnecessary because he was fed lies?

Think about it. After several weeks and no word from his children, don’t you think he’d cause a riot? He’s the type to drive over to Badar’s house and demand his relatives get in contact with him to find out what’s going on. But, given the flashback Zayn has, it’s obvious that Badar never planned on accompanying any of the children to the UK, and if that’s the case, he clearly couldn’t return to Quetta. I imagine a fully rehearsed story was told to all of the children’s parents about how they were killed somewhere along the way.

As for Waliyha, her whereabouts were told to my gang over on Patreon a while ago. In short, yes, she’s still alive and I plan on pitching the book’s sequel to publishers as a graphic novel series revolved around her location. Louis’ dark web bot finally found a hint as to where that might be, so Zayn and Liam go on a journey across Europe to find her. Each issue would (probably) take place in a new city and involve both fighting a single bad guy.

Just a quick reminder to anyone who reads this, Red vs. Black and all involved characters are my intellectual property and cannot be replicated, manipulated, or stolen.

Again, thank you for your question and time! I know my fics aren’t short and take a huge time commitment to finish. If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to send them my way! I’m super busy writing the next story and doing critical work, but I promise I’ll get around to it.

#thank you for the questions and for CARING #I think the collective of fanfic readers get a bad rep for not being mature readers and caring about things other than fuzzy feelings #so thank you #my writing #red vs. black #anonymous

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dawnwave16 · 4 years

Text

Whiplash

Ok first a little note here: 1) I know next to nothing about Asian culture so I have tried to be as respectful as possible while writing this, however, I probably got things wrong so please forgive me. 2) I have not been feeling well so everything feels a bit scattered in this story but I felt I should post it rather then delete the whole thing like I was planning on doing. 3) This is a messy one-shot and unlike my other stories I don't have any follow up head cannons for this so no amount of begging will get a sequal!

Marinette was excited, in less than 14 hours she would be landing in Singapore for her first visit since she was a little girl. Currently, she was sitting in the first-class lounge having completed all the preflight check-ins that she needed to do. Her sketchbook was on her lap and her phone was next to her as she was chatting to her cousin online about the plans for while she was there. She was so busying with what she was doing that she failed to notice when three other people walked into the flight lounge and one sat down next to her.

“Hey, Mari, what you doing here?”

Marinette jumped and her sketchbook fell to the floor, reaching to reclaim it she glanced to where the voice had come from. Adrien, of course, it was Adrien. She hadn't spoken to him much since Lila had joined her class but she still had her massive crush on him. How could she not? Sure he hadn't stood by her side as he's promised he would but with his father controlling almost everything in Adrien's life, it would have taken a miracle for him to be able to back her up publically. She did think that he was a little too much of a pacifist but nobody was perfect.

“Hi, Adrien, waiting for my flight to be announced. I'm visiting for one of my cousin's weddings. It's going to be absolutely amazing, provided the fights stay at a minimum.” Marinette said calmly.

“Whose wedding, Mlle Dupain-Cheng?” Nathalie inquired. As her tablet was already in her hands Marinette guessed that Nathalie would be doing a google search of whichever name Marinette gave her.

“Nobody you would know,” Marinette replied calmly.

“Are your parents not attending the wedding?” Mr Agreste asked. Probably trying to get dirt to show Adrien how unsuited I am to even be his friend. Marinette thought sardonically.

“They will attend the wedding and stay for a week after it, however, the wedding is in over a months time and my cousin has asked for my assistance with final fittings and details that she might have missed. It helps that I'm one of her bridesmaids so I would have been heading over soon anyway.” Marinette replied, downplaying her role in the wedding as well as what she was really going to be doing. After all, she was the one who had designed all the dresses and suits for the wedding and she was the maid of honour. She had to make sure the bachelorette party ran smoothly ontop of everything else too.

Suddenly her phone went mad. Marinette grabbed it and looked at who was trying to get hold of her then answered and spoke in rapid-fire Chinese to the person on the other end. While all three people with her were capable of speaking Chinese, they were soon lost. She was speaking way too fast and in a dialect that they were not familiar with. The call didn't last long but it was clear to Adrien and his father that Marinette wasn't happy about something.

“What's wrong?” Adrien asked genuine curiosity shining in his eyes.

“Oh, just one of the aunts demanding that my cousin include their child in the wedding party. It's not my decision and as my cousin has already said no there is not much I can do about it.” Marinette closed her eyes and groaned as she flopped back into her seat, “This is going to get worse as the day draws closer, I just know it!”

Mr Agreste exchanged a glance with Nathalie and was about to say something more, probably to ask about how Marinette could afford first-class tickets when an air stewardess walked over to her.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng? It's time for you to board.”

Marinette gathered her things and stood up to follow her. For the first time, the three that had joined her in the flight lounge took a look at what she was wearing. For anyone who didn't know fashion, Marinette's outfit would look just like any other 18-year-olds. To those who were in the fashion industry, however, they could see that her stressed jeans were designer and not worn from age. Her blouse was tailored to her perfectly and her shoes, while slightly worn, were expensive. This led to three very confused people. How could Marinette afford all of the designer clothes? How was she in first-class to begin with? Weren't her parents bakers? It made no sense to them at all.

Marinette was well aware of the turmoil that she had left her former classmate and his designer of a father in. She also knew that Nathalie was in no better state than the two men as she would be the one that had to look up all the answers to their questions. The truth was simple though well hidden and no matter how hard Nathalie searched she wouldn't be able to find it. After all, who would suspect that Sabine Cheng came from a family that owned Billions and Sabine had left for Paris after she and Tom had married so that Marinette would have a more normal childhood. They lived on way less money then what they had but invest wisely anyway, to the point that Marinette owned her own fashion empire, under her real name, and she was the lead designer for it.

Marinette was safely in her seat with a glass of champaign when the Agreste's boarded. Her nose was buried in her sketchbook again and her phone was connected to the sound system that was playing her music while she designed. At that moment she had Machine Heart by Miracle of Sound feat Sharm playing and her pencil was flying across her page. As they watched the song changed and Marinette gave a small smile before carrying on with her designing. Mr Agreste decided to be a little more curious about what she was designing and realised that it out-did even his latest line in terms of style despite being a rough draft. He couldn't help but think that she would be better then him someday and wondered if he should try and offer her an internship before one of his competitors snatched her up.

Adrien, on the other hand, couldn't help but smile as he watched her. She was so lost in her own world that even as she took a sip of her drink her eyes didn't leave the page. The cute frown she almost always wore when thinking was there and he felt a pang of longing flash through him. He'd always had a crush on her even though he had masked it by pretending to be hung up on Ladybug. In the countless interviews he'd had to endure, he had put up a facade of indifference whenever his love life had come under the microscope, something his father had approved of but something he had hated. His classmate was perfect as far as he was concerned, especially after she had stopped stuttering and getting muddled up in his presence. He found her intelligent and witty to go along with how kind she was. Sure she was quick to jump to conclusions but she was equally quick to forgive and try move past what had been done wrong. She had even understood why he could never stand up to Chloe and to Lila despite how uncomfortable they made him.

His smile grew us Marinette started to sing along to the current song, Broken Arrows by Avicii if he guessed correctly. He voice was soft yet so full of joy and hope. There was a touch of pain every now and then as well but as far as Adrien could hear, the overtone in her voice was hope. He had always liked the song so he took the time to enjoy her singing. Or he tried to anyway. His father called for him to catch up when he had decided Adrien had lagged behind long enough, almost like he thinks I'm an errant puppy was Adrien slightly cynical thought as that happened.

Soon enough they were in the air and Adrien was bored. He looked at Nathalie and his father and saw they were occupied with something so he decided to look at what games or apps were on the little in-flight entertainment system in front of him. He was exceptionally grateful to find a messaging app that allowed you to chat to your fellow passengers and immediately tracked down Marinette's seat number and sent her a message, hoping that she wasn't asleep. She wasn't if the slight jump he saw from her was any indication. They chatted for three hours before she dozed off and he did the same. After they were woken for food and they had eaten, they started talking again, however, Adrien never thought to ask about how she could be in first class, nor about the preferential treatment, she was receiving. At one point his father tried to get him to ask but Adrien refused if Marinette wanted to tell him she would.

It wasn't long after their flight landed that he lost sight of her but he knew Nathalie had both his father and himself on an extremely tight schedule for the first few days. After all, he was walking the catwalk for someone other than Gabriel for the first time ever and they wanted to make sure everything ran like clockwork.

Marinette, on the other hand, had disappeared to the butterfly house as she wanted to visit it before she dived headlong into the madness that was preparing for a massive fashion show on top of all the wedding preparations for her cousin. At least the bachelorette party was planned and ready, even if the final numbers were not confirmed yet. Hopefully, that would happen soon! After an hour of exploring the butterfly house and gaining countless ideas for designs, she headed down to where she had been told a car would be waiting for her. She headed straight to the family home, where she was greeted by her grandmother's overly enthusiastic caramel coloured and perfectly groomed Pekingese, Mǔdān (Peony), the youngest of the six that her grandmother owned. All for were kept in the perfect condition for showing and yet every single one of them were completely spoiled as they were all extremely friendly even if they were highly protective of the family. It seemed that despite not seeing Mǔdān since she was a puppy, she still remembered her and was all too eager for the cuddles that Marinette would willingly provide. After greeting her family and having a quick meal and shower, Marinette decided to have a proper sleep to get over her jet lag.

When Marinette woke up again it was early in the morning and she was trapped in her bed by all six of her grandmother's Pekingese who had apparently decided she hadn't given them enough attention the previous day. To her dismay she found that she needed to shower again as she was covered in dog fur and sweat due to the dogs, so she reluctantly shooed the dogs away from the bed and had another quick shower. She was glad she had let her hair grow out over the past few years but she knew she was going to be cursing her hair by the end of her trip. To save herself the hassle of properly dring it she made sure that she didn't get her hair wet and after her shower, she threw her hair into a messy bun. She knew she would have to head to the office today as she needed to go over all the preparations for the show so she headed down to the dining room to ask if she could borrow one of the cars or if a driver had been assigned to her for during her stay. As she spoke to her aunt about that she managed to remember to eat a light breakfast and have lunch packed for her so that she didn't have to worry about that later.

Once Marinette got to the office, having followed the GPS as a precaution, she quickly made her way to the main design floor. She received multiple greetings along the way and she cheerfully waved back, making sure to greet all those she knew by name and learning the names of anyone new. Her first order of business once she reached her studio office was going over the music selection for the runway show. She decided to make a statement to the fashion world with the first song and made it “One Girl Revolution – Battle Mix by Superchick and work her way from there. Some of what she chose was a little on the heavy side but she was making a statement with every song she chose. This show was the one where she would finally be throwing away the fake name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and revealing herself to be Nettie Chang. As she was working she heard a knock on her door and thinking it was one of the assistants called an absent-minded “Come in” without looking up at all. A shocked voice saying her name made her look up sharply.

“Mr Agreste, Nathalie, Adrien to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you all today?” Marinette asked calmly, masking her surprise with practised ease that would shock her classmates if they knew. Years of being Ladybug and training for her identity reveal with her family helping her at that moment.

“Adrien is meant to be making his international catwalk debut with the show that Píngguǒ huā Designs (Apple Blossom Designs) is hosting in a week. We were directed here to meet with the lead designer to make sure that everything was properly fitted. May I ask why you are in here? Are you interning with them?” Mr Agreste was hoping that her answer to his final question was no as he didn't want to compete against her in the fashion arena.

Marinette smiled as she saw that all three of her guests were waiting with bated breath for her answer and was about to do so when one of the younger seamstresses came running into the room. Barely taking the time to catch her breath, the young woman rattled off the problem that had been discovered. Marinette calmed her down then told her to lead the way.

“I hope you don't mind if I deal with this before answering your questions? You are most welcome to follow me if you want to.” She said casually to them but they all picked up on the cue that she had handed them and followed the two ladies to what could only be the main floor. Marinette quickly saw what the problem was and saw a very easy solution.

“Rather then resew everything from scratch, I want you two to swap models and see if everything fits better. If there is no change then we'll have new ones made but I'd rather not have to do that so close to the show.” The two women looked at each other and nodded, hastily sending the two models to change into the sapped outfits which they saw fit very well to their delight. Marinette quickly led her three guests back to her office and looked at Mr Agreste.

“Does that answer your questions?” She enquired in an amused tone, loving the poleaxed look on Mr Agreste's face along with the fact that Nathalie looked like she had just swallowed a lemon. Adrien was laughing softly from his spot behind his father. She glanced at him, it seemed like as soon as the shock of seeing her had worn off Adrien had guessed that she was at the very least the lead designer and had been waiting to see when the other two would catch up. As she waited for their response she poked her head out the door and asked for refreshments to be brought up, then retreated back into her office. After five minutes, Mr Agreste finally spoke.

“Well, it looks like my plan of offering you an apprenticeship won't be needed.” His voice had a slightly bitter tone to it. “So are you the lead designer or owner?”

Marinette didn't answer for a minute as she was finally going over the list of models for her show and had found Adrien's name on the list. She sent off a quick email asking for the appropriate items that he would be modelling to be sent to her office STAT so that she could do the final fittings and only then did she lean back to answer.

“Both. I started this company in my real name three years ago when it became clear to me that ninety per cent of my class were idiots who would rather believe a liar and removed me from the position of being class president. I joined the main student council instead and was soon it's vice-president but I was still bored. When the class was friendly with me my days were occupied with doing designs for gifts, school dance dresses, team uniforms nad planning fundraisers etc. As a result, I had very little time for myself and to be honest I was grateful when they turned on me as they were no longer coming to me at the last moment and just expecting me to be happy to do whatever they wanted. You should have seen the temper tantrums I put up with when I had the nerve to say 'I'm busy'”

Marinette stopped when there was a knock at her door and she waved a hand to allow them to enter. Four people walked in the first had a tray of drinks and eats, the second had a folding privacy screen that had ornate phoenixes and apple blossoms on it and the last two were pushing a rack that had several outfits on it. Marinette thanked them as they quickly set up the screen and after making sure there was nothing else they left just as quietly as they had arrived.

Seeing that Adrien was about to speak Marinette held up a hand. “Drink something first. It's lunchtime and nothing here will cause bloating so you are welcome to eat as well. We can do your fittings after that, provided Nathalie has nothing else scheduled for today,” she said with a smile. Mr Agreste was watching her as though trying to figure something out.

“What's wrong Mr Agreste?” She asked with a slight tilt to her head.

“I'm just surprised that you will be doing Adrien's things yourself. I'm also trying to figure out why there is a screen for him to change behind.” He answered calmly.

“Simple. Yes, he is used to having people see him change and yes I own this company and could assign someone else to do this, but I decided to spare him that this time. Adrien is blond and a natural one at that which is rare here in Singapore thus he will be much sought after and I decided to avoid having my junior designers and interns fighting over the honour of who will do his fittings. I don't know who his dresser will be during the show yet but we'll get there. As for the screen, I am female and while I have grown up in France and as such, I am more liberal than most, but this is Singapore and propriety must be observed. I am an unattached female as is Nathalie and Adrien is not related to either of us, so polite society dictates that we not be exposed to his unclothed form.” Marinette was speaking casually yet they could tell that she meant what she was saying. Either way, Adrien was grateful to Marinette for her thoughtfulness.

Adrien frowned then spoke up for the first time in a while, “What do you mean your 'real name' Marinette? I noticed you said that you opened this fashion house under your 'Real Name' but for as long as I've known you your name has always been Marinette Dupain-Cheng on any of your documents.” Marinette smiled.

“Caught that did you? When mom found out she was pregnant with me, she convinced the family to let her move to France. I was raised there under a fake name so as to keep me out of the news here in Singapore. When I was old enough to start using contact lenses mom ordered coloured ones for me and I've been using them ever since.” She paused to take a breath but before she could continue Adrien popped out yet another question.

“So what's your real name and eye colour? I mean I've never seen you with any eye colour other than blue, even now! Don't they get uncomfortable? I know mine do after a little while!” Marinette smiled at her long-time crush.

“My real name is Nettie Chang and as for my real eye colour, it's grey.” She paused and glanced in a mirror. “Huh, no wonder you look confused, I forgot that I didn't need to put in my contacts in this morning. Oops!” She giggled slightly and walked over to her desk and opened a drawer to get out an empty case to hold her contacts and quickly removed them, revealing her stormcloud grey eyes.

Adrien had to stop himself reacting when he saw them. It seemed just when he thought she couldn't get any prettier, she went and did so. It was unfair as far as he was concerned. Throughout high school, he'd watched her turn down guy after guy always saying that she couldn't return their feelings as she already liked someone. It didn't help that Lila had tried to turn that into Marinette, no Nettie, supposedly thinking that she was better than anyone in the school. Adrien had to wonder if she had ever told the oblivious idiot in question that she had a crush on him.

Mr Agreste and Nathalie looked visibly shaken when they heard her name. Both of them were panicking as they had helped Lila Rossi on a number of occasions and it looked like Nettie knew about those deals. While her three guests were quiet, Nettie had continued working on the playlist for the show and had decided that she was going to stay with her theme of harder rock music as most of the clothes that had been made in darker tones that were designed to show off the wearers pale skin tones. She noticed that there were no sounds of eating and looked up.

“Was everything to your liking?” She asked innocently and received polite thank you's from Nathalie and Mr Agreste and an enthusiastic one from Adrien. She giggled slightly at the fact that he hadn't changed much then stood and beckoned for him to follow her. “This is the first outfit if you don't mind changing so that I can check the fit.” She said softly, handing him the first set for him to try on. The shoes will remain the same for each set so we only need to check those once.”

Adrien nodded and slipped behind the screen to change, all the while Nathalie and Mr Agreste tried to make sense of what was happening. Mr Agreste had expected to be able to walk in and take over but Nettie had blocked him so effortlessly that she made it look like she wasn't trying to block him at all. Thankfully none of the items of clothing needed any major alterations, though Adrien had needed to keep his mind firmly blank when Nettie had run her hands over the clothes to double-check everything. He had practically been able to hear Plagg laughing at him and had been grateful that his kwami had chosen to stay with his street clothes while he changed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As far as Alya was concerned, Marinette getting permission to go on holiday a week before the rest of the class was a good thing. She only knew about the extra week off because Max had hacked the school system and place a tag on Marinette's file so that they knew when she was not going to be at school. The fact that Adrien had also been pulled from school for that week was a minor upset to Alya's plans to her Liladrien plan but one she could handle. Lila had been upset but who wouldn't be when they knew they wouldn't be able to see their crush everyday?

The class had managed to do enough fundraising to afford a trip to Singapore as their final school trip together and everyone was looking forward to it. Mlle Bustier had been persuaded to leave Marinette's name off of the list when it came time to booking anything, so Alya was happy they wouldn't have to deal with her. Mr Agreste hadn't replied to the classes emails about the trip so no-one was sure if Adrien would be able to come and with him not being at school for the week before they left it made things a little harder to plan but Alya was sure they had managed to do so just fine.

The school week passed with very little difficulty and they were all looking forward to their trip. Apparently, Lila had managed to book them an exclusive tour of the Píngguǒ huā Designs studios as well as backstage passes to their fashion show! Lila knew the lead designer for the studio which is how she had managed to organise it all and Alya was looking forward to rubbing the fact that they got to meet him in Marinette's face when they got back.

The only downside of that week was seeing that Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie had gone up for sale and had closed its doors for the last time on the Wednesday at the end of the business day. Nadja Chamack had done a special story on it for the evening news that night and apparently, they were moving to be closer to Sabine's family as her mother was getting on in age. That was the official story anyway, as far as the class was concerned that story was a coverup and they were simply moving away due to being ashamed of Marinette's behaviour.

Alya didn't know why Marinette hadn't just gotten over herself and apologised to Lila for everything and then they wouldn't have excluded her the way they had. Even Chloe had made a deal with Lila to just pretend the other didn't exist and that had been the last of their arguing.

Sure there had been several disadvantages to pushing Marinette away like no new dresses whenever they wanted them, no fresh pastries on test days and no friends and family discount at the bakery but they had made do. It meant a little pre-preparation for some things but it was worth it in the end as far as they were concerned.

The trip to Singapore had been uneventful, though none of them could get comfortable in their economy class seats. They had then all piled into the bus that had been organised for them and when they had arrived at their hotel they had all been too tired to do much so they had checked in, received their keys, dropped their bags off and gone out for a meal. None of them had wanted to try anything from the street vendors, except Kim, but they had eventually found something they could all agree on and had that for their evening meal.

For three days the class had done the tourist thing, visiting the museums and a couple of local site's but that night the class had a rather unexpected surprise. They had all gone back to where they had seen the huge collection of street vendors as Kim had convinced them that it would be a shame to not try anything at least when they saw Adrien. What made it completely unexpected was that Mr Agreste and his assistant, Nathalie, were there too. They also had the last person any of the class wanted to see with them, Marinette. Or at least they thought it was Marinette. The girl had grey eyes and not blue so there was a possibility that it wasn't her

“Mr Agreste, I didn't know you and Adrien would be here!” Lila greeted as she walked over to Mr Agreste's table, Adrien and their guest had wandered off to somewhere as Lila headed their way. Ever the good friend, Alya had her phone trained on the scene in front of her, hoping that it would turn out to be the romantic moment the Lila hoped for when Adrien returned.

“Yes, Adrien is scheduled to walk in the Píngguǒ huā Designs fashion show in two days so we had to come here early so that all the final fittings could be done without needing to be rushed.” Although Mr Agreste had replied politely his tone was so cold it was palpable. At that moment, Adrien returned and placed what he was holing on the table, which smelled delicious. “Adrien, where is Nettie?” Mr Agreste asked seeing she hadn't followed Adrien back to the table.

Adrien laughed, then answered happily, “She's getting a different dish. She is insistent that we try multiple different dishes and firmly believes that it would be a shame to eat here without trying a full range. My job is to track her as she moves from stand to stand and carry the meals back here. I hope you are hungry though as she didn't say how many stalls she would be visiting. Anyway, I've got to run or I'll lose her!”

With that Adrien vanished back into the crowd while Mr Agreste and Nathalie looked at each other and shook their heads with a smile. Lila fumed for a moment and was about to ask if she could join them when it seemed Mr Agreste remembered that she was there.

“Oh, by the way, Mlle Rossi, since you are already here I may as well tell you now instead of when I get back to France. Gabriel designs will no longer require your modelling services, due to a recent market survey that shows that rather than attracting customers with your modelling skills, you are deterring them. You were already paid for the last shoot you did with us, so consider it your last one.”

Alya stared at Mr Agreste and Nathalie, who had nodded along with her boss. Lila looked like she didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry. Adrien had made two more trips and it looked like he was back from his final trip as he had the grey-eyed girl from earlier with him.

“This all smells amazing Nettie! Thank you for bringing us here.” Mr Agreste said with a soft smile as he looked at the girl who was with them. Adrien saw Lila was about to say something and decided to talk to Nette in Chinese until their class was no longer within earshot. Mr Agreste saw what his son was doing and laughed softly as he switched languages too, pretending to have forgotten that she 'didn't speak French.'

Alya walked over and took Lila's arm, “Come on Gurl, we need to find food as well. I don't know about you but I don't want to get in trouble with Mlle Bustier.” Lila nodded numbly, Had she really just been fired she thought before risking a glance over her shoulder and seeing Adrien feeding the other girl something then her returning the favour.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Adrien was having fun, something he hadn't expected to be possible when his father had agreed to have him model in the Píngguǒ huā Designs fashion show. He had been absolutely thrilled to find out he was modelling for his crush and had had to fight to maintain his control during the fittings but as far as he was concerned it was well worth it. He knew that Nathalie and his father had eased up on the schedule due to finding out that the girl his father had wanted to offer an internship to had bought her own fashion company. What a shock that had been to find out she owned Píngguǒ huā Designs but when the four of them had spoken after his fittings were done, everything had started to make sense.

It turned out that Lila had been lying to Marinette, saying that Mr Agreste had wanted nothing to do with her designs and that she was nothing but a social climber so Marinette had decided that she would start her own business instead. She had started by borrowing the original Capital from her parents and by using the money she had earned from her commissions and had already paid everything off. She still did those commissions but she had long since told those that she did the commissions for the truth and they were the ones who had spread the company's name around and had made it as popular as it now was. Nettie had focused primarily on ready to wear streetwear and practical clothing but she did have her more formal lines and he would be modelling a mix from both during the show.

On top of lying about what his father was saying about her designs, Lila had also told Nettie that he didn't want to be her friend among other things which Adrien had not been happy about. The talk had revealed a lot more than that but Adrien and his father had been most caught off guard by the fact that once the misunderstandings had been cleared up, Nettie had forgiven them. A quick call and they had been invited to her family home for supper, which they had gratefully accepted. They were about to hire a taxi when Marinette said she could drive them if they wanted, something they hadn't expected.

Upon their arrival at the Cheng house, she had warned them to watch where they put their feet, only to almost trip over Mǔdān herself making her blush even as she laughed. She quickly scooped the do up in her arms and turned to face them.

“Now you see why I told you to watch where you put your feet. This is Mǔdān and she is the youngest of the six Pekingese that my grandmother owns and she is definitely the friendliest of them. The others are Ming, Tuptim, Yari, Suki and Shari. They are all totally spoiled so don't let their cute faces fool you into thinking they aren't fed or anything like that!” Adrien had watched as she fussed over the dog in her arms and followed as she led them into the house, toeing off their shoes at the door, just like she had. There are indoor slippers if you would prefer to not walk barefoot but none of them worried as she hadn't bothered to put any on either. Soon they were greeted by the family and led into the lounge where they had had a very enjoyable evening, with Nettie and Adrien reconnecting their friendship properly.

They had had a fun evening after dinner watching a recording of SIX and while they had loved the musical, they couldn't help but point out the historical inaccuracies. Just before they had thought to head back to their hotel, the Chang family had offered to host them instead as a sign of goodwill. Adrien had been beyond thrilled when his father had readily agreed and had fallen into bed that night with a huge smile on his face, something that Plagg had teased him mercilessly for! By the time the end of the week arrived, he and Nettie were dating and despite her families super strict rules for them, they were absolutely thrilled about finally being able to show what they were feeling.

By the time they had gone to dinner at the open food market, they had agreed that she wouldn't need to bother with her contact lenses anymore. Adrien hadn't even flinched when he saw Alya and Lila at the food market. He had, in fact, pretended to be oblivious to their presence and had deliberately switched to Chinese when talking to Nettie just to add to the confusion even more.

With a bit of eve's dropping, Nettie had found out that Lila had lied to the class and said that she knew the head designer of Píngguǒ huā Designs and that Lila had organised an exclusive tour of the studio as well as backstage passes to the show. Nettie decided she would send tickets for the show itself but not full access passes as Lila had promised.

She then coordinated with Mr Agreste to pull in as many people as possible that Lila had lied about to be at the show and more especially, the after-party. It turned out quite a few of them were people that were going to be there anyway as they had ordered outfits from her beforehand were eager to be there when she showed herself to the world for the first time until now they only knew of a masked face with what looked like short hair and a voice distorter. Those that had ordered from her prior to her opening her own company knew her but those who she only started working with after that only knew the image she let the world see.

The night before the show, Nettie and her family found themselves in the lounge with their three guests watching a movie that had Nettie and her family in gales of laughter. Crazy Rich Asians was definitely something the whole family could relate to. Tom confided to Adrien that that's how he had felt when he had first met Sabine and that while the hazing he had gone through was nowhere near as bad as what the female protagonist had to deal with, it hadn't been easy. It had been a shock for Tom when he had found out that Sabine was part of a super-rich family, but they were a lot more relaxed than the families in the movie, except maybe the roommate's family!

The fashion show had gone off without a hitch, with all the models hitting their cues effortlessly. The crowd had been wowed by the daring music choices and the stunning outfits that had been on display. Adrien had let Nettie know where the class was sitting and that Alya had her phone out and recording, despite the 'No Filming unless you have signed Authorisation' signs in French, English and Chinese that had been posted at every entrance. Nettie had alerted security to what Alya was doing and they had dealt with it gleefully as the class hadn't made a good impression on them. The reveal of Nettie's identity would happen during the afterparty, so with this in mind, she had created two outfits for the night. The first that she would walk the runway in was gender-neutral while the outfit for the party was an eye-catching dress in her signature pink, with grey accents.

Nettie was calmly talking to some of her guests while Adrien rested his arm around her waist when her class arrived. She had to hide a smile when she heard Alya telling Lila not to worry about how close Adrien was standing to someone they didn't know, how it must be something Mr Agreste had organised. Nettie lost sight of the class as she moved around the room and then it was time. Jagged had pretty much demanded the honour of introducing her to the world so when she saw him standing on the stage, she took a deep breath.

“I know many of you have heard the rumours about a certain girl knowing many of us here tonight. In fact, the Ladyblog has documented her numerous interactions with each of us. From rescuing my cat to Clara supposedly stealing her dance moves. Tonight we decided to share the truth. Yes, we do know a teenage girl who is frankly Rock n Roll in every way. But her name is not Lila Rossi. Lila Rossi is a name we only know due to her lies that the Ladyblog has spread and I know many of us have lawsuits lined up for her. I know Clara is an exceptional dancer in her own right and doesn't need to steal someone else's moves. The only cat I've ever been around, other than Chat Noir, was my mothers seal-point Siamese KisiMi who unfortunately died 20 years ago.

This little liar aside, there is a young lady here that we all know and love. She is talented, kind and brave. When she was told that she would never succeed she brushed off the criticism and stood tall building the company we see here tonight. She has worked with a number of us on numerous occasions and always makes sure that we look our Rock n Roll best for whatever the occasion. I first met her when she was 14 and was using a fake name. Tonight she is shedding that fake name and showing the world who she really is. Please help me welcome to the stage the lead designer for and owner of Píngguǒ huā Designs: Nettie Chang!”

“Thanks, Jagged,” Nettie started once she had walked onto the stage and accepted the hug he offered. “Some people here might know me as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. This is due to my mother wanting to raise me away from the public eye. Nothing travels faster then news on 'Radio 1- Aisa'” she had to pause here as there was too much laughter for her to talk over. “Anyway, I have always wanted to design and just never had enough time to do so, so when a liar joined my class and pushed me out to the point where I barely had any true friends I decided to start this company. I'm glad I did too.

I have worked with so many fabulous people that we would be here all night but there are three people, outside of my family that deserve extra special thanks. The first is Jagged Stone, without whom I wouldn't have met most of you. He has come to be the fun uncle that you turn to when you want to break the rules. The second is Mr Agreste, who hosted a bowler hat competition and gave me the motivation to keep designing. The final thank you goes to my boyfriend Adrien, who supports me from the wings and occasionally gives me the shove I need to get things done.”

Nettie gave a small curtsy to the crowd, without waiting for questions and slid herself back into Adrien's arms. She could see the shouting going on among her class but she didn't care anymore. She was free of the expectations that they had placed on her. Free from worrying about what they thought and free to live her life. That's all she had wanted when she left France two weeks ago. Now she just had to deal with her cousin's wedding. Wouldn't that be fun!

@northernbluetongue, @ash-amg-blog

#salt #mlb #marinettexadrien #marinette is amazing #sleepy writer #don't take it too seriously

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ngame989 · 5 years

Text

“Onward” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 7

Writing: @ngame989

Art: @toxicpsychox

Editing: @toxicpsychox, @seddm, an IRL friend

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: Bloodlines clash over the past on the first anniversary of the Cleaving, while Star, Marco, and others try to focus on looking forward.

Comic Page

Masterpost

Sorry for the big delay. In the meantime, we did a pretty massive in-character RPish Q&A session taking place in the time of the fanfic collection storyline just before this chapter, so check that out here! Post-summer schedules are settling in now, so hopefully we can get back on track for regular updates. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“Think we should head back downstairs soon?”

Star poked her head out from the closet to find Marco had taken his hoodie off and spread himself akimbo on their bed, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. “We probably should,” she admitted, turning the swords she held in her hands over a few times. Her own blade was relatively simple compared to the ornate craft of Marco’s falchion, the Cleaver. That name seemed especially fitting now, since it was exactly one year ago today that their new world was created. She carefully set them against the wall, still in their protective sheaths. “Ooooor we could just use my messiness as an excuse for why it took us extra long to find these!” she drawled out dramatically, giving Marco a sly grin. He finally tilted his head towards her and opened his eyes, treating her to his soft warm gaze while she kicked off her tennis shoes and adjusted her old sky-blue dress. Their day had begun only a few hours ago, yet she was already feeling drained, and his slight wince when she dropped onto the mattress, reclining against a wall of pillows suggested he mirrored her sentiment. “You OK?”

“If your uncle’s hug didn’t break something, your aunt’s sure did,” Marco mumbled, testing his joints for injury with a grimace before scooting himself further towards her and dropping his head into her lap. Normally she’d be all for the rowdy family party going on right under their feet, but today felt like it should be their day too. Earthni was a wonderful place for sure, but today was the anniversary of so much more for her. The perfect bliss of loving Marco, the terror of losing Marco, the overwhelming sadness of missing Marco, the enrapturing contentment after reuniting with Marco...

“Marco, Marco, Marco…” she singsonged, thoughts leaking out into words. Her left hand caressed his cheek while she tangled the fingers of her right in his hair; he closed his eyes and nuzzled further into her contentedly. Her smile grew all the wider as she upped the ante, squishing his cheek and poking his mole then finally honking his nose. After a few moments of trying his best to ignore it he started lazily swatting her hands away, but she persisted nonetheless. This adorable face was hers for the booping, dangit!

“Star.” His tone was firm, but she knew better than to assume he meant it.

“Yes?” she innocently crooned.

He caught her wrists and held them away from him. “What are you doing?”

“Having fun, silly.” She wriggled free and got a sneak attack in, pinching both cheeks at once. When he went in for the counter, she pulled back so quickly that he slapped himself, causing Star to fall backwards onto the pillow clutching her sides and laughing. Marco lifted himself off of her and onto his knees, and she caught only a glimpse of his cocky smirk before he dove forward, pinning both her arms above her. “Oh no! You got me, Diaz! I am at your mercy. Whatever shall I do?” Try as she might to keep up the mock damsel in distress act, she failed to suppress her giggles. Only a second later, he released her hands and planted a quick kiss on her lips before resting his head on her shoulder. Her arms wrapped tightly around him. When she’d made the fateful decision to risk leaving everything else behind for Marco, this was why, this was what she couldn’t see herself living without.

“Star… ow…” Her grip slackened and he wheezed in relief. “You definitely… got that… from your dad’s side of the family.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Hello, dears.” Eclipsa’s voice rang from the doorway, catching them both off-guard. Marco yelped and rolled off of Star, flopping to the floor with a thud. “Don’t mind me, I was just sent up to see if you two were ready for your demonstration. I must say, everyone seems quite excited for it.”

“Oh heeeeeey, there’s the swords!” Star pointed with a totally convincing shocked expression. “Silly Marco, I told you they wouldn’t be under the mattress!”

Eclipsa laughed heartily enough to make the light purple hem of her summer dress sway around her. “There’s no need for excuses, dears. In my younger days, I would have killed to have Globby with me at even a single family outing. I’m not one to tattle on the tomfoolery of love. You should probably go, though, before any more Butterfly-Johansen friction spills over.”

“Uuuuugh,” Star groaned. Things had been pretty civil amongst all the various interdimensional families thus far, but she’d known it was only a matter of time before something happened. When she was a kid it was fun watching everyone punch each other off cliffs to vent their frustrations, but now it just seemed petty and pointless to her. Had they learned nothing from everything that happened? She helped Marco off the ground then grabbed their weapons for the exhibition spar that all their guests were apparently anticipating. He slid into his hoodie while she slipped back into her shoes, then they closed the door behind them and descended the stairs.

The Diaz living room was largely occupied by the Butterflies for the time being, while Star could hear the characteristic Johansen ruckus from the backyard. Wouldn’t it be nice if they could all just get along forever? Probably, but she could scarcely fathom how that might ever happen. She glanced around to find her mom trapped in conversation with Great-Aunt Etheria in the kitchen. Despite wearing more casual clothing, Mom was in total “queen” mode right now, politely tut-tutting at all of Etheria’s observations. Maybe that wasn’t the best term for it, but it was how Star had known her mother most of the time growing up. However, there was still no mistaking the strain in her expression: even the Queen Moon of her childhood couldn’t put up with Etheria for long, and Star had no idea how the mom she’d gotten to know in recent years could handle it for more than half a minute. When Etheria noticed Star’s presence and strutted towards the stairs, Star could see her mother breathe a slight sigh of relief before following.

“Ah, dearie, there you are. Come, come, let me see this magnificent blade I’ve heard so much about.” Eclipsa held it up, but the eldest Butterfly snatched it from her grip without even a glance before running her fingers all over the blade. “Fine craftsmanship, indeed… where did you get such a thing? I must commission the maker for a new display.”

“It was actually Buff Frog who recommended me an old friend of his, she’s really cool. She does experimental art with molten metal that’s really pretty-”

“Ah. Hmmph.” The woman handed the sword back to Star tersely. “Well, it is well-made, I’ll give it that.”

“Speaking of artistry,” Moon chimed in before Star could respond, “weren’t you saying something about Marco’s parents, Aunt Etheria?” Star and Marco glanced at each other anxiously.

The large woman perked up, scorn diminishing in an instant. “Oh yes, they’re wonderful. A poet and a sculptor, how splendid! It’s positively delightful to see such devotion to the most noble of endeavors. The graceful wielding of a blade or a brush are signs of a good temperament. I’m glad at least your family can appreciate the finer, more delicate things in life, boy.” Star cringed a bit, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Marco doing the same, but the tension she didn’t even know she had in her shoulders dropped. Despite the tone, it was nice that Marco was being accepted, but… yeesh. “Let’s get on with this display, shall we?” The group headed outside where the Diazes had taken advantage of their spacious backyard.

Star instinctively shielded her eyes with one arm, blocking out the blinding light of the sun. Two poles held a banner up above a table loaded with all kinds of meats and vegetables. ‘Butterfly-Johansen (and Diaz) Annual Picnic’. Marco’s parents had resisted inserting themselves for long enough that Star had scrawled the addition on herself. They were hosting the freaking thing, why shouldn’t they be an official part of it? The Butterflies who had followed them outside were audibly scoffing at the various Johansen men and women sweeping up armfuls of meats and jamming them into extra large tortillas that were still far too small for the task. Finally she found her dad, who was guiding cousin Rock through the various foods that had become a staple of his diet, and when he noticed her in kind he skipped over. “Star, honey, there you are! And Marco, my boy, tell me: did you have your first encounter with Grandpappy Bear? The man with the grey beard down past his knees?” Marco nodded at the clarification.

“Ha! My father used to tell me stories of how he’d vanquish foes by opening his arms to feign surrender. Many great men and women fell right for it- went for the hug and had the life squeezed right out of them!” His eyes narrowed intensely, getting right in Marco’s face, and Marco’s nose ruffled at the wild beard hairs.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Marco dryly responded. “My everything hurts.”

“Nonsense, lad. If you’re even still standing, you’ve done better than most! It’s like you’re part of the family already.” He clapped Marco on the back with a joyous laugh, and Star grabbed onto her boyfriend’s arm to keep him steady on his feet.

“Try not to break the boy,” Etheria sneered from the doorway behind them, joined by a few of Star’s aunts and uncles.

“They are quite talented at breaking things,” Heartrude murmured low enough that anyone farther away than Star probably wouldn’t hear.

“Aye, we’re just having fun with ‘em,” Aunt Crag hollered back. “From what Rivey tells me, he’s gonna be an honorary Johansen soon enough!”

Daaaaaaad. Star tried to bury the rising heat in her cheeks. While her brain was still putting itself back together, Marco had jumped between them with a nervous grin on his face. “So, swordfighting, huh? What’s the deal with that?”

“Yes, I suppose some entertainment is in order,” Etheria sighed. “Are you quite sure that we can’t stage a rousing game of Flags, Moon? After the last few cancellations due to…” Her gaze flickered to Eclipsa and Globgor briefly. “Circumstances on Mewni, and now the Butterfly Kingdom being dissolved altogether, I dare say some stress relief might do us all some good.”

“Hear, hear,” the Butterflies behind her chanted. Even a few Johansens were mumbling their assent, though they’d never be forthright with their agreement with the eldest Butterfly.

“Be that as it may,” Moon spoke up, “my decision still stands. If there’s anything I’ve learned these past few years, it’s the value of letting go of the past if it’s holding you back, and Flags, fun as it may be, just kept this feud going. We have our whole lives ahead of us. Perhaps it’s best if we can all learn to find that which binds us together.”

“She’s right,” one of the Johansen cousins added. Phew. Finally, maybe people were starting to see the sense in- “Since we don’t have to bother with politics anymore, maybe we just shouldn’t put up with them!” Oh for the love of- calm down, Star. Deep breaths. Though she tried to ignore it, a tiny voice in the back of her mind pondered those words carefully. Why were they trying to make the families get along? Sure, it’d be nice for its own sake, but it wasn’t like her parents were BFFs with any of their in-laws, either. Maybe it was selfish to think, but what did they get out of it?

As the tensions mounted more by the second, Star felt something prodding her clenched fists. She looked over her shoulder to see Eclipsa surreptitiously handing over her sword, while Marco already had been given his. Star took the hint. Too late to turn back now.

“EN GARDE, MARCO!”

***

To anyone else, the sun being blocked out completely in the middle of a summer afternoon would have been alarming, but for Eclipsa it was a most welcome sign. “Having fun, my love?” a deep voice boomed above her.

Globgor shrunk down to smaller than his default size, his form-fitting sweater vest and pants scaling appropriately, and dropped down on the grass next to his wife to hand her a cup of tea. She took a test sip: black, with milk and a generous serving of honey. He only ever put that much in when he thought there was something bothering her, and as always, he was correct. “I get the unfortunate feeling we’re not quite welcome among some of the clan, Globby. Especially those on our side. The Johansens seem quite fond of you, though.”

“Ehhhh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right, they’re definitely nice in their own way, but I think it’s only because I’m strong. They kept laughing about eating people, and said maybe Etheria would be a gourmet meal.”

“Well, that is a perfectly acceptable reason to like you, dear,” she crooned, placing her free hand on his arm. “But yes, that is… troubling.” It didn’t surprise her, really; it had taken her nearly a year to find her place within the small portion of the Butterfly family consisting of just Star and Moon. Eclipsa had accepted being an outcast from the remainder of it, given her supreme infamy in Mewnian lore, but it wasn’t in her nature to sulk, and in all fairness it had been a good year for them. Perhaps she hadn’t been the best at guiding her people safely through dangerous times, but she still had earned respect and camaraderie from much of Monstertown. Rebuilding the town after Mina’s destructive rampage had been a satisfying effort, and she still had far more time to enjoy the company of her family than she ever could have dreamed.

Taking another soothing sip, her gaze wandered over to the only other people she knew that needed this time to be together as much as she had. Star’s combat style was fierce, unrelenting chaos guided by warrior’s instinct, but Marco balanced it perfectly with a keen eye for when to defend and when to counter. Eclipsa had guessed where they’d end up from quite literally the first moment she’d met Star, and where they complemented each other perfectly as a team, they were equally matched as opponents. The shimmering steel clanged over and over, neither combatant spending more than a handful of seconds on the backfoot at a time. Marco deftly ducked under a ferocious two-handed swing and jabbed forward, so Star rolled with her momentum to dash backwards. She was about to back into a cactus behind her when Marco kicked off the ground and lunged towards her, grabbing her free hand and twirling her to the side, eliciting hoots and hollers from the enthralled crowd. They both giggled before squaring their stances, and combat resumed.

“They’re quite extraordinary, aren’t they?” Eclipsa turned away from the match in progress at the sound of Moon’s voice. Globgor extended an enlarged arm towards a chair leaning against a picnic table and dragged it over for her.

“They’ve both turned out to be some of the best of us. Even with all my strongest magic, I wouldn’t want to get between them. It looks like they could keep this up forever.”

Moon raised an eyebrow and folded her hands in her lap, sipping from a mug with an ornate floral pattern. Royal status or not, Moon had a taste for the finer things. “I wasn’t talking about the swordfight, Eclipsa.”

“Nor was I.” Eclipsa playfully smirked, and Moon conceded the point with the two sharing a knowing look.

Globgor shrunk and hopped onto Eclipsa’s shoulder, gathering some of her flowing green hair with his tail as a headrest and reclining into her neck. “Wouldn’t it have been nice to be like that at their age? We only ever had minutes at a time to ourselves, and it’s not like we could just use giant mirrors or big glowy portals to chat whenever we wanted.”

“True enough, my love, but Star had been devoting everything to keeping an entire kingdom afloat at age 15 for half a year, and Marco’s own service merited knighthood in less. Even if we debate the details, I’m not sure I envy them.” She gently ruffled his hair with her fingers. “And besides, we’ve had the last year, and however many more follow to do whatever we wish.”

Globgor smiled back up at her, hugging one of her fingers. “You’re right, dear. Oh Moon, that reminds me, how are those big plans you mentioned a few weeks ago?”

Moon crossed her arms, frowning slightly. “It’s not anything that big yet. I’ve... just been gathering some information. Wrathmelior was quite helpful in finding Historia Homewnum for me, it’s older than the Butterflies themselves. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with it yet, but I want to talk to Star first.” She turned away from Eclipsa and Globgor, gazing with a solemn smile towards her daughter who was laughing hysterically as she chased Marco down and tackled him into the grass, weapons forgotten. “How we look back on Mewni requires guidance from those looking most forward.”

“How do you look back on it, Moon?”

Her brow furrowed as she took one sip, then another, clearly lost in thought. By the time she spoke, the entire glass had been drained. “I’m not proud of many of the things I did, or even those I felt I had to do, in my time as queen, but it’s a legacy left behind nonetheless. The people of this world deserve to know it as it was, sometimes noble and sometimes flawed.” A shout of “why I never!” was heard from the distance, and everyone turned to see one of the younger Butterfly cousins hastily retreating from an encounter with Johansens. “Very flawed,” Moon sighed. “The Johansens at least mean well, in their own ways, but my side… well, let’s just say it’s a good reminder of why the Cleaving was necessary. My apologies for any trouble they’ve caused.”

Eclipsa laughed sardonically. “Until quite literally hundreds of years after she perished, my own mother would have drawn and quartered me just for being in love. Family problems are nothing new.”

Globgor hopped off her shoulder, enlarging as he pointed across the spacious yard closer to Moon and River’s yurt, which had become a veritable house in recent months. “Is that River?” Eclipsa squinted to block out the sunlight and get a better view, and sure enough he was locked in a struggle with Heartrude, who was trying to wrestle a large drumstick out of River’s teeth.

“In all fairness, Moon, the Diazes are excellent chefs. I wouldn’t blame anyone for that level of passion over the catering,” Eclipsa sniggered.

“For heaven’s sake…” Moon grumbled while dragging her hands down her face. “River!” She darted off towards the scene, leaving Eclipsa and her husband alone once more.

A few of the others glanced over their way, but none responded. Globgor grew a little more and stretched his limbs before sprawling himself out on the ground, yelping sheepishly when his actions knocked the chairs over. That’s my Globby. Eclipsa giggled and jumped over the wreckage into his arms, using his chest as a pillow. They both loved their daughter more than anything, but time for just the two of them was always welcome. “There are certain advantages to not having much of an audience…” he said, chuckling and gently pulling her closer for a kiss. When she’d first started secretly dating monsters in her youth, the Mewman lore had maintained that size-shifters were clumsy oafs when large and insidious creeping vermin when small, and that was saying something since the pages written about the middle ground weren’t exactly flattering either. No matter his outward appearance, he always knew how to handle her with precision and grace, and they’d worked up a complete comfortability with the shifts in their daily lives. One of Globgor’s favorite amusements was trying to solve any mundane issue he could with only size-shifting, leading to some incidents such as the shelving unit they’d had to rebuild after he tried expanding in a confined space to reach some baking ingredients at the top, but it never failed to amuse her. They flirted in the grass until they’d lost count of the minutes, uncaring of who may have been looking at their innocent (by their standards) shenanigans, until the sunlight in the corner of Eclipsa’s eye went dark once more.

The moment that it took for Globgor to stop being distracted by her kisses lasted about as long as the time it took her to recognize that the usual cause of this was already beneath her, and both snapped to attention together. “Gotcha! Now we’re even-steven,” Star gloated.

All four eyes below her blinked a few times. “Um, it’s Globgor, not Steven.” The other three looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. “What, what’s so funny?”

“Nothing, darling,” Eclipsa responded. They both stood up, brushing any stray grass marks off their clothing. “Excellent fight, dears, though I’m afraid I was too, ahem, preoccupied to catch the ending. Who won?”

“Star did,” Marco said.

She poked him in the cheek, beaming with pride and doing a little dance. “First time, too! I was like, swing, swing, slash and I did this really cool twirl and knocked it right out of Marco’s hands. I did it!”

He wrapped an arm around her affectionately, which also served to calm her antics. “I was off-balance from pulling you away from the cactus,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Love made you weak, Diaz, but I love you for it.” She nuzzled into his shoulder and he rested his head against hers. “Anyway, how are things going for you guys?” Star wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at them.

“The party is delightful. It’s so nice to get to celebrate with everyone, even if there’s the occasional spot of friction.” It wasn’t worth troubling Star and Marco over; this celebration was in service of them, in a way.

“The Butterflies don’t seem to like us too much, and I think the Johansens like us for not so great reasons,” Globgor ever so helpfully stated. Well, there goes that idea.

Star growled under her breath. “Why are they always like this? It seemed like things were turning around after the last Flags,” she moaned.

Marco shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, sometimes old grudges last a long time. I remember Uncle Miguel didn’t speak to his wife, Aunt Juanita, for 15 whole years because of a stolen enchilada. She’d even bought him one the next day, too. Probably explains why Cousin Bobby is a bit weird.”

Star puffed up her cheeks in indignation. “OK, I know this isn’t the point, Marco, but every story about your extended family just makes me want to meet them even more.”

“Maybe once the government sorts out all the passport stuff,” Marco said, “and maybe on their own, too. I’m glad your family likes my parents, but I’m, uh, not so sure how they would all get along.”

“Good to know.”

“Can’t you just eat like a well-behaved member of society!” The group heard from a distance away.

“I don’t want to be part of any society that has someone do the chewing for them!”

More and more Butterflies and Johansens clustered together in the center of the yard; it seemed like this whole debacle was about to reach critical mass. Eclipsa surveyed the scene carefully: Moon and River were trying ineffectually to calm it, and the Diazes watched from the sidelines, babies in tow. It seemed like they were the only ones left in action. Marco gathered them into a huddle, with Globgor shrinking down to the appropriate size. “Alright, how do we figure this out?”

“Families bicker sometimes, darling,” Eclipsa offered somberly. “Perhaps them getting along just isn’t meant to be.”

“I don’t get it, though! Okay, fine, they’re annoyed by each other, but who isn’t annoyed by family sometimes? Heck, even Marco grates on me when he says I should ‘eat less sugar’ and ‘eat something besides sugar’ and ‘stop pouring sugar into my soda until it becomes a thick paste’! Have you ever seen the nutrition labels on the Sugar Seeds you eat too?”

“Hey…” Marco pouted.

Globgor raised a hand. “Well, Star, healthy eating is an important-”

“Not the time!” she growled.

Marco squeezed her shoulder, which calmed her down enough for him to speak. “Well, when Uncle Miguel and Aunt Juanita’s feud finally ended, it was because his brother stole one of his enchiladas and then gave it back, so they made up really quickly. I guess that helped him realize he didn’t even know why he was still being so mean about it. So maybe if we just got them to realize their issues are normal…”

“They could just be annoyed by each other normally,” Star finished. “Marco, you brilliant man, you.”

Folding her hands in contemplation, Eclipsa finally spoke. “All well and good, but how? Even though my time was 300 years ago, I don’t think much has changed in just how stubborn any of these royal families can be. They’re not just going to give up hating each other so easily.”

Globgor’s tail swished up against her in excitement. “Remember when you helped me become a vegetarian?”

“Yes, of course.”

“For a while, I still thought about eating Mewmans every single day, so you made all those veggie-filled scarecrows for me to find. They weren’t that good.”

“Not my best work, I admit.”

“But being able to still have some way of scratching that itch was what helped the most, and now it’s not even a problem anymore!”

“So you’re saying we just need a way to still let out all their aggression without doing any serious damage, then. Globgor, you brilliant man, you.”

Rafael and Angie poked their heads in between Marco and Globgor. “If I may contribute a suggestion…” he said.

“Aaaa!” The other two couples stumbled back in shock.

“Sorry, we heard you from over there and we had an idea. You’re not that good at being quiet,” Angie laughed, ruffling Star’s hair.

“When I was growing up,” Rafael continued, “we used to always play silly games in the backyard and everyone got very competitive over it. I think I have some of the equipment still in the shed. Maybe a friendly competition is in order?”

“I love it!” Star shouted, her eyes lighting up with joy. She stuck her hand into the middle of the group, grinning fiercely at the gathered crowd. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s stop our families from killing each other over petty grudges. Globgor, lift all the equipment. Nachos can help too, she should be coming back from her afternoon stroll right about now. Mr. Diaz, set it all up. Eclipsa, Mrs. Diaz, plan the rules of the competition. Marco, let’s go try to distract my family. Team Family on three!” Regardless of whether it would work, Eclipsa felt quite enthusiastic about this as well. She couldn’t say whether it would work, or how it might impact her own standing within the group, but the simple fact that there even seemed to be a chance to set things in the right direction for Star’s family at all was far more than she’d ever had the chance to do in her past.

“Alright, on three,” Eclipsa said, leading the charge. “One, two, three, family!”

***

Marco followed Star across the yard, needing to jog to keep up as she pulled him forward by the hand into the center of the ruckus. Moon and River had their backs to each other as they tried to keep the seething rage from either side at bay, but a few people had already crossed the battle lines and an all-out brawl was beginning to erupt.

“Don’t worry Mom and Dad, we got this,” Star confidently shouted over the din. Admittedly, Marco was a bit less certain than she was that this would work. He was the odd one out in terms of his upbringing, and Star’s families honestly spooked him a little bit with their intensity. The Diazes were quirky, sure, but like most other things on Mewni, this whole situation just seemed amped up to 11 all the time. Still, he wanted to see it through for Star’s sake, if nothing else. So much of what they’d gone through was due in some way or another to family disputes, it was very clearly a personal affront to her. “Alright, everyone, settle down!” Didn’t work. “Butterflies! Johansens! Could you please just stop-” Even at the top of her lungs, nothing changed.

River pushed her back a step. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ve got this.” He inhaled enough air that his bare chest visibly expanded. “QUIETTTTTTTTTTT!” Dead silence hung in the wake as every member of the families turned their full attention towards Star, Marco, and her parents. One Johnasen even paused mid-headlock of Heartrude. “Listen to my daughter speak!”

“Thanks dad. Hello, everyone!”

“Hello, Star,” the crowd mumbled hesitantly.

“Butterflies, Johansens, I know you both have your differences. I know that nothing I’m going to say will make you just get along forever. But I have a question for you. Uncle Heartrude, you hate the Johansens for how they eat, but haven’t you ever been annoyed whenever Uncle Jimothy uses salad forks for meat?”

“Well, yes, but I don’t see how-”

Star pointed directly at one of her larger cousins, and even just a sideways look at the fire in her sapphire eyes inspired him as well. “And Boulder, didn’t you once say Rock was a snooty little pebble for waxing his shoulder-horns twice a day?”

“Aye, I did.” His thick brow furrowed and his voice came out a bit muffled from behind his enormous brown beard.

“But you still love each other like brothers, so why are you still trying to break Heartrude’s leg right now?”

“Oi, I guess I am,” he said, letting go of Heartrude’s leg. “Sorry about that.”

Star squeezed Marco’s hand in hers hard enough that he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in exhilaration.

“So sure, we all get mad sometimes. But instead of trying to kill each other over it, let’s just settle it like we would any regular family feud. With friendly, non-lethal competitive fun!”

River tapped her on the shoulder. “Um, sometimes the Johansens do actually settle them by-”

“Not now, Dad,” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Right-o, dear.” He quickly hustled back to Moon, who was watching with a proud but cautious smile.

Etheria shoved her way through the crowd and confronted Star face to face. “That may all be well and true, but the Johansens spoiled our royal bloodline-”

“That was my own choice, thank you very much, Aunt Etheria,” Moon huffed, hugging River closer to her.

“Besides, I’m proud to be a Butterfly and a Johansen,” Star continued. “And so what if it’s not what you wanted for the ‘royal bloodline’? Earthni to Etheria, we’re not even royals anymore! Who cares about some stupid bloodline when my mom was able to actually be happy?"

“Traditions are important, child. Now, I’ll grant you that we no longer hold claim to a royal throne, but neither do you, so why should we listen to you anymore?” A few murmurs were heard among the Butterflies and Johansens both. How ironic that the first time all day they could agree on something was on their right to hate each other.

“Because… because…” Star floundered for the first time in her speech. Her hand trembled in Marco’s, and the Star he knew and loved wouldn’t have faltered until hope seemed almost completely lost. He had to do something. Think, Marco, think… the Johansens respected might, the Butterflies respected prestige, what did any of them have that could appease both? They were so upset about Flags being cancelled in the first place because both wanted its bragging rights so badly. Wait… that’s it!

Alright Diaz, you got this. Marco stood tall and squeezed Star’s hand back to let her know it was OK. “Because I, Marco Ubaldo Diaz, am the reigning Flags champion, and I say to do what Star says!”

“Marco, what the horse-flipping heck-” Star wheeled on him incredulously, but he quickly turned her back towards the crowds. Their gazes roved over the faces in the crowd. All of the fight had left them. His gambit had worked.

“Huh,” Star uttered matter-of-factly, still in shock. “What would I do without you, Marco?” she whispered to him under her breath, and his heart fluttered as it always did. “Alright, listen up, people! This isn’t about epic conflicts or generational feuds. You’ve got a problem with someone? Challenge them to a short, safe, and fun game to settle that score. Marco’s parents and Eclipsa and Globgor are in charge of the event planning. They’ll help you set everything up. May the best person at resolving all their conflicts win! Welcome to the first annual...”

“Game of Yards!” Star and Marco triumphantly shouted in unison.

“Remember to have fun!” Star shouted before tugging Marco’s hand away once more, but she steered them away from his parents and then further away from the entire party.

“Um, Star, what are you- where are we going?”

“Can we talk about something? I need to get away for, like five seconds.” Marco hadn’t heard her sound that exasperated in a while.

“Yeah, of course, let’s decompress. Anywhere special you wanted to go?”

Her gaze frantically darted around them. She’d taken them back towards the forest, near the edge of the territory their parents had acquired. “I don’t know, I just kinda walked. How about there?” she asked, pointing to a small hill in a clearing, covered by the shade of some Mewnian oak trees (thankfully, the benign sort). Marco nodded, and they both went over found a suitable spot.

“What’s on your mind?”

Star shifted restlessly after sitting on her legs. He tried to convey as much support as he could through the gentle caress of her hand laced with his. Even from hours after they’d met, he’d always been ready to be right beside her when she needed, and that resolve had only strengthened as the years went by. Once she’d gathered her thoughts, she began to speak. “Who am I, Marco?”

Of the many ways he’d thought this conversation could open, this wasn’t exactly one of them. “Huh?” was all he could mutter.

“It’s just… Etheria’s right. I’m not a princess anymore, and when all that went down I just wanted to be a normal teenager, but I’m not gonna be a teenager forever either, you know?”

“I understand.”

“Yeah, but when you turned down Eclipsa’s knighthood, already had a plan for stuff you wanted to do. Didn’t you say you wanted to go to college and all that junk? You can do that now since you finished high school, right?”

“Mhmm.” Marco fell back onto the grass, resting both his arms on his chest and staring up into the clear purple sky. “I- I guess I haven’t thought about it much since then, either. Mom told me that the college she teaches at was still taking students, and it’s still really close to home, and- and I thought about signing up but I wasn’t sure.”

She plopped down beside him, rolling over to face him and taking one of his hands in hers. “You should! Marco, whatever you want to do, you’ll be amazing at it because you’re Marco Diaz, and I’ll be right there every step of the way.”

“Thanks, Star.”

“I never had anything like that. I didn’t think about it too much when I was a kid, and then I was gonna be a queen because, well, that’s what princesses did. And then the first moment that I seriously got to thinking about what I wanted, kablam-o! Solarian warriors attack, magic’s gone, and Earth and Mewni merge. Once the craziness finally stopped, all I could think about was being with you. Don’t get me wrong, the past year just being with you and doing whatever we want has been incredible, but now I just need to figure out what else is out there for Star Butterfly, and honestly...” She squirmed uncomfortably and scooted closer into him, resting her head on his chest. “I’m scared, Marco. I know I need to ‘find my calling’, or whatever Mr. Candle might call it, but I have no idea how, and I don’t want to lose this either.” Her arms buried underneath him and held him closely. There was a bit of dampness that Marco could feel seeping its way into his hoodie, and that caused a few empathetic tears to well up in his own eyes.

He brushed them away with a sleeve and then hugged her tighter to him, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “We won’t, Star. Ever. Even if it takes a year, or ten, or a hundred years, or even if you never find some perfect job you want to do forever and ever, that’s fine! As long as you’re happy and fulfilled, that’s all that matters, and I’ll do whatever I can to help. Promise.” They rested in silence for a few moments, holding each other closely as thoughts of potential futures whirred in Marco’s mind.

Her chin lifted up and dug into his chest as she stared at him. “Any ideas?” Those Earth-sky-blue eyes that had filled him with a sense of purpose for so long now implored him to return the favor.

“Well, you’re not a princess anymore, but… maybe the stuff you liked doing as a princess could help? You’re a natural leader, you inspire people to be better than themselves, you worked so hard to make Mewni a better place.”

“Marcoooooo,” she crooned, and he lovingly pecked the blushes rising on both of her cheeks.

“For real, Star, you’re the coolest person ever, you could do whatever you put your mind to. Not long after we first met, you were terrified of all the princess duties, and you ended up figuring out how to do them the Star Butterfly way. Just remove the ‘princess’ part of it, and figure out whatever else you’re gonna do the Star Butterfly way.”

A teasing smirk rose on her face. “Weeeeell, I can think of at least one thing, mister…” she booped his nose with hers, and it was his turn for a fiery blush to arise. “You’re so cute to tease. Have you ever thought about what would happen if none of it happened? Like, if I never stopped being a princess and then I had to be queen someday.”

“A little? That whole year on Mewni was kinda a bit weird and all, with the squiring, and…” His voice dropped to a mumble. “Figuring out how I felt about you.”

“Right back atcha, there. But what if we’d still done all that, just without completely changing the world?”

“Being a knight would have been really cool, I guess, but the whole Lifelong Post thing… kinda weird. Maybe I could’ve been one without it, or something? Or maybe I’d have just picked you, officially,” he said, poking her nose. “A knight and princess being together is a story that’s, like, 1000 years old, after all.”

“That’s really sweet, Marco, but… nah,” Star dismissed him, turning over to stare at the same sky he was, folding his hands inside hers.

“Nah?”

“Nah. You wouldn’t have been a knight for long.”

“Oh yeah? How come?”

“If I was still a princess, then you’d be my prince.”

He jerked upward out of instinct, only stopping because of the weight on his chest. “Uh, Star? I, um, I don’t think that’s how noble ranks, um-” Stream of consciousness took over while he scrambled to collect his shattered thoughts.

“Princesses can do what they want, silly. I’d declare you Marco Diaz, Prince of Echo Creek, and your mom and dad could get little crowns, and there’d be all sorts of ridiculous contracts to sign. You’d be free to whatever you wanted on Earth, too! But we could still be together.” Her head tilted up and her eyes met his once more. “Forever.” The determination in those pools reflected love at him, and even with the impact from the gravitas of her statement, it still just felt natural, it felt right, like everything with Star always seemed to. She leaned upwards to kiss him, slow and soft and sweet as her hands ran over his face and through his hair as his reciprocated. When they finally broke apart, Star sat up, and the Sun framed her hair in the most beautiful way; Marco found himself needing a few more moments than usual to catch his breath. “I’ll always love you, Marco.”

“No matter what, Star, I’ll always love you too. Now come on,” he said, pushing off the ground to a standing position. “Let’s go win some Yards, my princess.”

“We just had a moment, Diaz. You get a pass, this one time… my prince.” She puffed up her cheeks indignantly, but a radiant smile cracked the facade almost immediately, clearly as lighthearted and giddy as he’d ever known her to be, and he felt much the same.

Their fingers intertwined as they dashed away towards their home once more, looking forward to finding their place in the world and - more importantly, perhaps - tag-teaming to kick some butt.

#starco #svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #globclipsa #tgg svtfoe #fanfic

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newtxtinaforever · 4 years

Text

Happy New Year’s Eve!

🎉🎉🎉

I wrote a songfic for the Newtina Christmas Exchange, so here it is! My recipient is @bananachef. I hope you like this! Lyrics from the songs If I Could Tell Her and Only Us (written for the musical Dear Evan Hansen) are italicized. Enjoy!

Enough

~~~~~~~~~

He said

There's nothing like your smile

Sort of subtle and perfect and real

He said

You never knew how wonderful

That smile could make someone feel

~~~~~~~~~

Newt's POV

Not again. The attempt to reinstate my travel permit was denied for the fourth time, and I had begun to lose hope of ever seeing Tina Goldstein. Her picture in January's paper haunted me as the weeks passed by. I made Tina a promise, one I intended to keep no matter how long it took. I would personally deliver her a copy of my book. I just hoped it wouldn't be too late.

Taking a deep breath, I sighed as I caught a glimpse of Tina's face. Her cheeks weren't pink like they were that day on the docks. No, this photograph was an injustice. As thankful as I was to have a reminder of her, there were so many things the picture simply couldn't capture. Like the way the edge of her lips twitched when she smirked. Or how her eyes deepened the happier she became. There was so much to uncover within Tina, and I wanted to explore her world just like I would with any other creature.

Yet I stood in my basement, staring at Tina's photo. If I could talk to her at the moment, what would I say? 'I'm sorry', even though I hadn't the faintest idea what I had done to scare Tina away. Perhaps she had other reasons for not writing back, but I had a feeling that whatever it was had to do with my book release. After all, the letters had stopped coming nearly a week afterwards. Had Tina decided she no longer wanted to be friends with a Magizoologist? Were her coworkers giving her flack for it? Whatever the reason, I longed for any sign of Tina's presence. Life hadn't been the same since I left New York, and I had a feeling that things were about to shift once more.

What would it take for me to get back on speaking terms with Tina? I had considered the possibility of us being more than friends, but that didn't seem probable at the moment. Unfortunately, I continued to go through days where I wished she were here with me in London. I'd invite her if she weren't in the habit of ignoring my letters. Who was I kidding? I could barely look her in the eye, let alone have a decent conversation with her. Why did I think I could be open about my feelings for Ms. Goldstein? I've heard it said that acting on internal desires can often lead to fulfillment or regret. I could only hope the latter wouldn't be true if I ever plucked up the courage to… well, you know…

~~~~~~~~~~

If I could tell her

Tell her everything I see

If I could tell her

How she's everything to me

But we're a million worlds apart

And I don't know how I would even start

If I could tell her

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

Tina's POV

It had been four months since that night in Père Lachaise. Four months since Grindelwald escaped yet again, since Leta sacrificed herself to help us escape. But most importantly, four months since Queenie had joined the darkest wizard ever known to man. I was at a loss for words, and the weeks that passed by did little to ease the pain. What must have been going through Queenie’s mind for her to have made a decision like that? There were so many possibilities—every one of them more appalling than the last— and somehow I blamed myself.

I blamed myself because I should’ve made better decisions. Sure, I had tried to keep her from seeing Jacob, and I stood by my decision wholeheartedly at the time. After all, I was only trying to protect them, to protect Queenie from getting thrown in jail. As much as I loved my job, I knew how ruthless MACUSA officials could be. They had no sympathy in matters like this.

But I should’ve done more to stop her. I should’ve spent more time with her, should’ve screamed at Jacob not to let her go or...

There was no use now. Queenie was gone, and I doubted even she knew whether or not she was coming back. It was hard to tell. Fortunately Newt’s kept me busy.

Ever since that terrible night, we’ve been picking up the pieces and shoving them below the surface again and again. No one dares to speak of it for fear of reawakening the nightmares. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed someone to lean on. With Queenie no longer by my side, I felt alone and more misunderstood than ever before. When would my attempts to help another actually succeed?

Meanwhile, Newt grieved over the loss of his childhood friend. It wasn’t open in the manner that his brother was accustomed to, yet it was his way of coping. Even in my own bubble of misery, I could tell that he needed someone to lean on, too. So many of us were left scarred, and we wanted to be there for one another. But how could we do that when we could barely take care of ourselves? I suppose we could lean on one another for support, allowing the pain to pour from one broken body to the next. It wasn’t the best solution, but it was better than nothing.

~~~~~~~~~

I don't need you to sell me on reasons to want you

I don't need you to search for the proof that I should

You don't have to convince me

You don't have to be scared you're not enough

'Cause what we've got going is good

I don't need more reminders of all that's been broken

I don't need you to fix what I'd rather forget

Clear the slate and start over

Try to quiet the noises in your head

We can't compete with all that

~~~~~~~~~

In light of all that had happened recently, I wished Newt would be more open with me. With every passing day came new challenges and difficulties; we needed to lean on each other. These last few months had been unbearable, yet it seemed like we were finally numb to the pain. We had felt too much for too long, and now we had only the knowledge of the unthinkable events. Despite that, Newt and I were determined to move forward.

There hadn’t been much to say in the days following Leta’s death. A memorial service was put together by Newt's parents, and a small group of us mourned the loss. I tried my best to be there for Newt just as he tried to be there for his brother Theseus. We all had a lot on our minds that week. Since then, things have returned to normal. Well, as normal as they could be with an extremely dark wizard at large.

Nothing would ever be the same, that much I knew. Yet wasn't life always full of unexpected twists and turns? Leta's death impacted Newt greatly; I felt him becoming more and more withdrawn every day. My own thoughts and emotions were often directed towards Queenie, not to mention Credence and the impending search for Grindelwald. There was so much at stake, and I felt helpless.

Thankfully, the weeks passed by and I clung to Newt just as he clung to me. I'd had to return to New York after a while, but our correspondence continued through letters. Much like before, but with a more positive outcome. The two of us had finally put the past where it belonged and worked towards a new future together. A future where concerns would be voiced and feelings would be validated. After all, who knows what tomorrow will bring? Might as well live in the present and make the most of every moment because you never know if it'll be your last.

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

3rd POV

Picture it. Two lovers working on assignments at home in separate offices. Not because they couldn't stand to be in the other's presence, but because one of them had a harder time concentrating when the other was in the same room as them. Newt Scamander found the ever beautiful Porpentina to be very much of a distraction whenever he needed to work on something at home. He didn’t blame her for it, yet there was a sense of obligation to admire her beauty in every moment. After all, Grindelwald’s crimes against anyone who stood in his way were as dangerous as ever, and there wasn’t much spare time for Newt or Tina to enjoy the other’s presence. That’s why both of them (Newt especially) loved after-work hours. He could watch Tina brush stray hairs out of her face and bite her lip out of a mixture of frustration and determination. The previously unspoken couple had since admitted their feelings for one another, which led to their current living situation.

A little over two years had passed since the rally at Père Lachaise. Newt and Tina shared a place in London, and they were as happy as they could be with a war raging around them. Domestic life wasn’t a strong suit for either of them, yet they managed to make the most of it. Each spent their day working for the Ministry—Tina on Theseus’ task force and Newt on whatever special assignment he had been given to aid in Grindelwald's defeat. At night, they came together for dinner and brief conversations. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Newt smiled as he stood in the doorway of Tina’s home office. She scribbled notes and suggestions based off of the latest attack, her shoulders hunched and nose nearly brushing the edge of the parchment. Sometimes there was no telling when Tina would call it a night; her work often led her to stay up late following leads. Yet she always managed to spare a moment for Newt and his creatures, which reminded her that life existed outside of work. For now, however, work was what paid the bills and allowed the wizarding world to be one step closer to defeating Grindelwald and his regime.

Tina’s desk was modest, and stacks of papers neatly lined the sides of the desk. It was clearly well-organized, although just as worn-in as her desk at the Ministry. Both were much cleaner than the desk in a large closet that Newt liked to call his office. Back when both desks were in one room, the sight of Newt’s workstation would vex Tina terribly due to its constant disorganization. She offered to straighten it up for him one night, but the next morning revealed her efforts were in vain.

“Tina, where are my notes on a new habitat for the graphorns?”

“They’re in the second drawer, third folder.”

“And the sketches as well?”

“First drawer, fourth folder.”

Tina tried to pretend she couldn’t hear Newt sigh.

Life wasn't easy; it never would be. But at least they had each other, and somehow, that was enough.

#fantastic beasts #newtina #tina goldstein #newt scamander #newtina fanfic #newtina fanfiction #newtina christmas exchange #new years eve

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justimajin · 5 years

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Catching a Case of the Doctor Blues ⌠Part 18⌡

⇢ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (2.8k) Doctor/Surgeon AU, Enemies to Lovers AU

⇢ Summary: When asked about Dr. Kim, a string of beautifully aligned words are ready spew from your lips. You could possibly go on and on about how his wonderful stubbornness wasn’t similar to talking to a brick wall, or how his observation skills were especially great in preparing your blood vessels for a drastic rupture or even how one gracious stare of his nearly had you on the verge of ripping your essential documents in half. But it seems that, perhaps, there was a lot more to Dr. Kim then what meets the eye…

⇢ Warnings: mentions of death, get some tissues handy

gif credit.

⇢ Moodboard Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

⇢ Last Update Next Tuesday

“Really Dr. L/N?” Chaeyoung says, excitement filling her eyes, “You and Dr. Kim?”

You shyly nod and she instantly squeals, “So that special someone you were describing…?”

“It was Dr. Kim.” A heartful smile is on her lips when she hugs you and continues to squeal.

“It’s about time.” Yoongi says, scoffing, “Told you that you two were a lot similar than you thought.”

You roll your eyes at that, “How long have you two been together?” Jin brings up, currently huddled with everyone on break.

“A while after we did the labour surgery.”

“That long?” Yoongi questions, alarmed from your answer.

You nod, “We didn’t want it turning into a big deal. I’m actually a bit surprised all of you are calm about it.”

“I could see it coming.” Yoongi states, “And I don’t think we’re the ones you should be worrying about it.”

“Y/N~” A voice sing songs in the background, “You still haven’t told me anything!” He exclaims and you gesture to him to lower his volume.

“Like what?”

“Well for starters, have you guys gone to fourth base yet?” He has the same suggestive smile on his face and you glare at him.

“Stop asking me that!”

“Have you guys done anything yet?” Another voice pitches though, the young intern being highly interested in the conversation despite silently listening.

“Um well…w-we’ve kissed…” The words slowly fade away from your mouth but everyone catches onto it.

Chaeyoung squeals again, jumping up and down, “Oh my god doctor that’s so cute!”

“Woahh you guys went there?!” Jimin exclaims.

“Where is Dr. Kim anyways?” Jungkook suddenly asks and everyone’s voices die out at the doctor’s absence.

“Isn’t he in his office?” You ask Chaeyoung.

“That’s where I last saw him…”

“I’ll go find him.” You look around at the crowd you’ve collected, still standing in the hallway, “And everyone get back to work already.”

His office comes into view and you poke your head inside it in search for the particular doctor. The room is empty – files organized perfectly and nothing is out of the order, but the faint soft sounds coming from the chair is what intrigues your interest.

“Taehyung?” You draw closer to the chair but no response comes out.

“Taehyung?” You ask again, but now the chair comes into full view and you finally catch sight of the doctor that remains slumped down on his desk with deep snores escaping his lips. The appearance itself causes a sweet chuckle to bubble out of you when you stroll closer in pure amusement.

You sit across from him, leaning your head against the table from where his own is currently resting as his eyes are peacefully shut. Your gaze is completely attached to the gentle display before you and you can’t help but think how much younger the doctor looks when he doesn’t have his glasses on and isn’t paired with a serious look.

Instead he sleeps with contentment and you slowly reach your hand over, threading through his soft brown locks, “You must have been really tired.” You whisper, gazing fondly at him.

A loud thud sounds at the door and from the corner of your eye you can see a flustered Chaeyoung at the door. She pipes out a quick ‘sorry!’ before closing the door to give you some privacy and you laugh at the abruptness.

The man in front of you stirs and you decide it would be better if you removed your hand but he keens into your touch, a relieved sigh escaping him.

“Y/N?” He mumbles, eyelids still closed and you’re a bit surprised he knew it was you. You hum in response and he slowly opens his eyes, brown orbs landing on you.

“Morning.” You whisper, leaning closer to him, “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

He shakes his head, “I had a long surgery yesterday.” He wraps his leg around the chair you’re seated on and drags it closer to him, “The patient was suffering from heart failure.” His arms come to wrap around your torso, pressing your back against him, “And the surgery was tough, but the patient was fine in the end.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, another sigh coming out.

“But you stayed back late in the night.” You hum, “But you need to sleep, you should have just skipped work today.”

He chuckles, his laugh vibrating through your upper back, “You know I can’t do that. And besides, why are you so concerned about me? Were you going to miss me that much?”

His tone drops into his playful teasing one and you roll your eyes, “Of course I would, I love you.”

Silence drops.

The relaxed, comforting aura in the room cracks when your eyes enlarge and you just take in the capacity of what you had exactly said. But he beats you to the same shaken words that were getting registered in your mind.

“W-what did you just say?”

Instantly he places you back on your chair so you face him but you are not prepared to take in his expression; contorted in utter surprise and dwelling within a drop of excitement.

The words had come so naturally to you, said with no amount of hesitance as they flowed off like honey, but staring in his eyes like this when they are expectantly boring into you makes it incredibly difficult.

But you bypass that, coming to terms that his confession was ultimately getting a response.

“I love you.”

It’s paired with a sincere smile but a surprised gasp slips out from you when he suddenly smashes his lips on your own.

You kissed before, but this was just something else. It was mixed in with a load of longing and sheer love that the tear that freely slips down from his right eye makes you want to never see it re-emerge again.

He parts from you, voice shaking as he catches his breath, “Y-You finally said it.”

Your cheeks tint pink when he rests his forehead against and you shyly nod. His hands lace themselves with your own and suddenly the strength their hold has in tensely increases when he ultimately decides that right now was the time.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“The cherry blossoms?”

You turn around to look at Taehyung, who seems fully immersed in them but then his gaze flickers over to you – in the complete center of all of it.

“You could say that they’re my life.” He says, eyes filled with so much raw tenderness, “And my world is in front of me.”

You sweetly smile at that, wanting to walk over to him but then he raises a hand and gestures for you to stay put.

“Turn around.” He states and confusion crosses over your face for a split second, “Trust me.” He whispers and that’s all you need to do exactly what he wants.

With no remains of a single argument spurring out of control.

“Take out your phone.” He instructs you next and you do so, the shiny metal object coming into view.

“Now?” You wait for him to speak up again.

“Go to your contacts.” He pauses for a moment, the cool breeze flowing around you before he speaks again, “And scroll down.”

His voice sounds distorted almost, like it was getting hard for him to continue. As you scramble around to find the contacts, you slowly trace down until the end and then it hits you.

A single letter, newly added into your phone with a different number, positioned on top of the old number that your precious messages were saved under.

“Click it.”

His voice instantly pulls you out and your hands begin to shake, pressing on it to reveal the messaging screen.

He doesn’t tell you what to do next however, your fingers fumbling around and typing a message.

I missed you.

It’s the only words that can possibly come out from you seeing his name reappear after so long, the only one thing you have been constantly wanting to tell him.

The response is instant, the faint ding of your phone alerting you.

I missed you too.

“T-Turn around.”

His voice cracks and you are holding onto your phone for dear life when the hot tears are streaming down your cheeks and your bottom lip quivers.

You take one step.

You take another step.

You take the final step.

It all breaks. The harsh sobs flood through your system and your hand is over your mouth when you sink into the floor and completely crumble at the sight of Taehyung graciously holding a phone in his hand to showcase the same screen that your phone had.

Once you fall, he runs over to you and holds you when you desperately clutch onto him.

“Y-You l-left me.” You choke out, fisting his shirt in your hands.

“I know.” He sniffles, looking towards the sky when the sunlight reflects the water pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and it only causes another wave of tears to drench your eyes.

“I-I was s-so worried.”

He deeply sighs, “I’m sorry Y/N.”

“W-Where…” You separate from him and he winces at the sheer emotions twisted inside your eyes, “W-Where did y-you go?”

A bitter smile comes forth on him and he gazes at you with remorse, “I went somewhere I didn’t want to be.”

“She had passed away. Then?”

You’re currently seated on a bench further away from the falling cherry blossoms, yet it still gives you a perfect position to watch their beauty. Taehyung keeps a firm hold on your hand, softly drawing circles as you embark on the faded childhood you once shared to relishing the now adulthood.

A tear falls from your eyes and he hurriedly wipes it, making you smile at how it was a habit of his since you were kids, “I was taken in by my aunt, like I told you. Soon after I was thrown into the pursuit of becoming a doctor and then met Jimin and Yoongi.” You explain, “And then was hired by Namjoon.”

“Why did you become a doctor?” Taehyung questions, “I never could have imagined…finding you at the hospital.”

You lightly chuckle at his bewildered tone, “When my mom passed away I felt really helpless. Like I could do nothing to help those who I cared about. And then I just thought…” You pursue your lips, “That maybe becoming a doctor would help me with that. I could save those who need my help and not be so…helpless.”

He hums but you furrow your brows, “What happened to you though? Taehyung you disappeared all those years ago as V and then you came back like this? As Dr. Kim?”

You gesture towards him and if you were being honest with yourself, this was a lot to process through. Not only had you been working with your dear childhood friend all this time, he was considered to be your source of hate for so long before you were officially together.

A low sighs comes out of him and he scrunches his eyes together, looking purely exhausted.

“It’s…a long story.” He whispers, gaze down-casting.

You clutch tighter onto his hand, “Taehyung please.”

He turns to you and softly smiles at your desperate attempt to simply know, but his eyes gloss over when he goes back to a time he simply wants to forget.

The sirens are blaring.

They screech violently when more of them arrive at the scene and Taehyung can only see the red blare in his innocent eyes when the scarlet trails coats the pavement. A blur of words sound from the background.

“….a family of three….sustained major injuries….the mother was eight months pregnant….”

His vision begins to give out as well, right as the paramedic lifts him up and places him on the stretcher.

***

“Can you imagine?” One of the fellow neighbors whisper, “Running into an accident when Mrs. Kim was about to give birth? It’s quite unfortunate.”

“Never mind that.” Another one says, “What will become of their son? Losing both parents and now his home? Is he alright?”

Both of them turn around to view the boy, who sits in the corner holding onto his pet for dear life as he stares at his home being vacated.

He was too young, incapable to keep the house that held so many precious memories for himself and for…

He lifts his gaze, staring at his once childhood friend’s home and then glancing at metallic object clasped in his hand with his only form of communication.

He begins to type, talking about what had happened and how he needs her desperately right now. But her last message is of her eagerly informing her friend that she would love to come visit his home and greet his parents and suddenly he doesn’t have the strength to respond anymore.

He stops typing and the bright light that once flickered in his young eyes disappears as the years continued on.

You bite down on your lower lip, raising your hand to wipe at the fallen tears and then search for his eyes. They remain planted on the ground and there’s a deep void residing inside them, the same void you had always seen Dr. Kim carrying around.

Your friend had excitement always pouring out, his vibrant infectious vibe lifting you up on days you needed him most and there was never a dull moment when he was by your side.

But he fallen down, just like you once had.

And you weren’t there to catch him.

You bring your laced hands closer to yourself, gazing down at them, “I wish I was there with you.”

He glances over to you and all you can see is an empty vessel, torn to pieces by his own loss.

“But you’re here now.” He softly smiles, before leaning closer to you and whispering in your ear, “And that’s all I’ll ever need.”

“You never told me.”

You’re walking through the field of blossoms as the sun begins to settle down and the cool breeze of night draws in. He turns around, stopping ahead of you and tilts his head. “Didn’t tell you?”

“A doctor.” You chuckle, “Why a doctor out of all things?” Slowly inching forward, you continue to walk beside him, “You always had a creative imagination, I thought you would be an artist. But then you told me that becoming a doctor would be interesting.”

“Ah…I remember that.” His grows silent suddenly, lips firmly locked.

“And…?” You attempt to encourage him but he still remains quiet. “Taehyung?”

Leaning forward to get a glimpse of him, you notice his warm skin is now coloured with an alarming shade of red and you giggle at seeing it so drastically for the first time.

“Y-You were always sick...”

You open your mouth, trying to respond but the words are all taken away, “And you would rarely come outside to play…” His words have the weight of gravity on them when he turns around to look at you, but instead he’s left laughing at your sudden awe-stricken expression.

“You wanted to become a doctor because of me?”

He nods, walking over to you with a playful glint in his eyes, “It seemed like you had beat me to the idea though.”

“Because you suggested it!” You retort, rolling your eyes.

“Right, right and because of that you followed me all the way to the same hospital.” He snickers and you scoff at him, lightly hitting him in the shoulder.

“I didn’t know it was you! I didn’t think my loud childhood friend was going to turn into this.” You gesture towards him, whispering under your breath, “You and Jimin would have gotten along perfectly…”

“I didn’t think you were going to be like this! You were always so shy as a kid, sometimes I wondered if you were even going to talk to me!”

“You kept staring at me.”

“Because you were cute!”

He instantly freezes and you burst out laughing, placing a hand on your stomach to contain it. “You would stare at me because I was cute?”

“Yeah.” He smirks, “Like a puppy.”

You gasp, “Taehyung you take that back right now!” You chase after him and he giggles, running away from you.

“Taehyung!” You shout as his form shrinks away from you. “Taehyung I can’t run that far!”

“Too bad you’ll have to catch me~” Laughter erupts from him, “Unless you want me to call you a puppy again.”

“Taehyunggg!” You whine, running over to him when continuously laughs and you smile at truly having missed that laughter.

The sun begins to set and as its rays shine over you, the shadows behind you two shrink, appearing to be much smaller like they once were.

#taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung doctor au #taehyung e2l au #bts taehyung fanfic #bts taehyung fluff #bts v fanfic #bts v fluff #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung fluff #bts taehyung doctor au #bts taehyung e2l au #kim taehyung doctor au #kim taehyung e2l au #bts doctor au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines

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starlitq · 4 years

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hello peaches ! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ this is tia and i’m bringing my baby celeste, a sleepy museum guide who is too passionate about stargazing & constellations. while i’m still crying over not being able to buy new horizons because i’m too broke to buy a nintendo switch, i’ll trying to keep this short. but watch me fail, because very much like resetti , i don’t know how to stop talking. ( i cheated and didn’t put her personality here but on her about page, so it this post will look shorter- )

if you are interested in plotting please LIKE this post and i’ll run to your IMs and beg for plots (ΦωΦ) . also, please never hesitate to shoot me a message to plot because i’d love to write with all of you ! ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ

✿ kim jisoo, cis female, she/her ✿ welcome to lunova CELESTE CHO, your happy little town awaits. you’ve been in town TWO YEARS? wow going taking a chance on a new town at TWENTY FOUR ? I heard you were going to try to be a GUIDE at THE MUSEUM. good for you, I’m sure being SYMPATHETIC & SELF RELIANT will help. careful you’re not to DEFENSIVE & MELANCHOLIC. good luck!

✿ like many others, celeste haven’t always dreamed of becoming what she’d be today. however, since she was a child she loved gazing at the stars and sky, imagining what it would be like to be up there.

✿ celeste had always been a curious and social child. she loved to make friends and it seemed like people also liked to talk to her. her life was pretty uneventful to this point, if not it could’ve been described as perfect. while things definetely didn’t come easy to her, she worked hard enough for it so she’d eventually get to them.

✿ one of these things were her dreaming of becoming a pilot. for her it was the only way to satisfy to her desire to travel the world as well as to be as close to the sky as possible.

✿ of course she knew it wouldn’t be easy and money was certainly needed to invest in her dream. she tried to save up a small amount and with her mother being supportive of her daughter’s dream she tried to help her daughter as much as possible, not only financially but also mentally.

✿ celeste did feel bad about her mother spending all her money on her daughter’s training. thus, she worked even harder so she could repay her mother.

✿ yet, hard work would never make up for the thing that would twist her plans in such unexpected ways. something celeste had never dreamed of happening. her mother had been diagnosed with alzheimer and as time passed it got to the point where her mothr could barely do anything on her own.

✿ it was not only the money that she needed for her care but time, time celeste didn’t have with her being so busy to achieve her dream. yet, she couldn’t bear to leave her mother alone and she quit her training to take care of her mother.

✿ as their financial situation didn’t become better, they also moved to a smaller place located in lunova. there she also picked up her job as a guide in the museum. it wasn’t the worst situation for her. it was another way to be close to the sky.

wanted connections:

✿ best friends: y/m and celeste might have known each other since childhood or they just recently met and instantly felt the connection. despite of celeste, keeping most things to herself, y/m is someone she trusts and even shares her struggles with. to make it short, i just want a wholesome friendship with wholesome and cute moments, like random camping trips, stupid fights or sharing their struggles and ending up crying RIP

✿ star gazing buddies: your muse might be a frequent visitor at the museum and met celeste there. maybe they’ve always been interested in star gazing, constellations etc. or they just like talking to celeste and decided to visit her more often or after her work so they can go star gazing together.

✿ unwanted help: maybe this person always sees her dozing off and is worried about her. they might or might know about her mother’s situation and feel bad for her or they just think she might suffer some illness that might cause her to feel weak and therefore she dozes off. however, everytime they try to help celeste refuses their help. at first, celeste is polite btu after some time she is getting annoyed and might even snap at y/m. y/m is wondering why she’s only mean to y/m when she’s actually known to be a really nice person. maybe, they’ll become friends later or their relationship only becomes worse.

✿ exes : celeste and y/m were in a happy relationship. but when her mother was diagnosed their relationship slowly deteriorated, where she was suddenly becoming more irriated or would always cancel their dates. to make the matter worst, celeste never told your muse about her mother and why she was acting that way. as that wasn’t bad as it is, celeste also didn’t tell y/m she would move to another place and just disappeared with a) only breaking up with y/m via text b) just ghosted on your muse c) anything else we can plot.

✿ unrequited love (doesn't matter if it’s your muse or celeste bcs i just love one sided love PLOTS and suffering :’) ): IT CAN BE ANYTHING, maybe y/m has a one sided love on celeste and everytime they confess to her she just tries come up with a bad excuse bcs she doesn’t want to hurt y/m. or maybe they’ve been friends for a while and celeste just doesn’t want to risk their friendship because it’s one of the few stable things in her life. or celeste could have a crush on y/m but doesn’t tell them but it’s very obvious.

✿ pen pals/online friends: maybe both of them have known each other for a long time but have never seen each other. it’s this weird relationship, where both of them know each other’s secrets because they felt comfortable sharing it only via text. yet, they’d feel awkward if they said these thigns to each other irl. BONUS point: one of them knows how the other looks like and they see the other in lunova but are too scared to talk to the other.

✿ ANYTHING, enemies, bickering friends, sibling type relationship, exes on bad/good terms, bad influence, good influence etc.

i’m brain dead right now, so i can’t come up with more atm. BUT if you have other plots pls don’t hesitate to tell me because i’m absolutely open for everything sjndmds

#lunova:intro #i tried hard to incooperate the not being able to fly- canon and sleepy celeste canon lmao #i'm so excited sndndsnsd #also i'll ge tto the messages soon i just need to go to bed early #bcs i need to wake up early tomorrow and it's already late here </3 #lets ignore the fact that i used the wrong tag at first and that this is also super late rip

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ramblingguy54 · 5 years

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Lemme Let You All In On Something

Inspired by @beaglelover62‘s post about DuckTales helping (2017) those through rough times. I’ll leave the link here below for all to check out, if you haven’t come across this post yet.

https://beaglelover62.tumblr.com/post/187179198864/ive-been-inspired-by-a-few-shared-stories-as-of

Whatever Happened To Della Duck is a truly beautiful episode to be sure, showcasing a mother’s undying determination in getting back to her family, despite the harsh many factors stacked against this determined duck. It left a serious impact on me emotionally, easily ranking it high up on my list of favorite DuckTales (2017) episodes for introducing Della into the TV’s adaptation franchise with such phenomenal execution. However, what I especially praise about this episode is how inspiring it can be to others who suffer through very tough times. People need role models in fiction like this to look up to, naturally, as another way to better cope in their unfortunate situations in life.

That was basically how it helped me better cope in dealing with not only my depression, which I’ve had for the past several years or so, but it also gave me a new positive perspective when I tackled those awful anxiety tremors at the tail end of 2018. To give a better context to this, besides depression I’ve dealt with having an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) where I can’t relax if I see something that isn’t in order, like say cleaning anything particular for example. It’s hard for me to simply take it easy a great number of times because my mind is hollering saying, “Do this now! You can’t relax until it’s fixed! It has to be perfect!”. Not to mention when I’m analyzing stuff this OCD can cause me to keep re-thinking what I’ve already concluded on in terms of my opinions and it’s beyond freaking obnoxious. I’m no stranger to anxiety attacks either, as they happened quite a great amount in my childhood where I couldn’t control myself because I didn’t obviously understand what was going on internally at the time. Although I’ve had experience before with anxiety attacks, tremors on the other hand I wasn’t prepared to face at all in early December of last year. It was terrifying because I had no control of my mind going a million miles per hour, on top of my body already shaking furiously off and on. My heart felt like it was going to explode outta my chest, considering how insanely fast it was pumping. OCD + Anxiety = One hell of an awful time, being a huge factor in what caused me to have this nervous breakdown where I was consistently panicking. Thankfully, I soon got a medication prescribed which helped me recover from that awful state of mind and have been feeling much better by mid-January of this year ever since.

This story of mine ties back into the massive weight surrounding Della’s situation. She’s in such an highly anxiety inducing situation of having no family, friends, losing one of her legs in the ship crash, going through a Lord knows how awfully painful physical healing/rehabilitation process with her robotic leg, and the cherry on top of all this crap being without social contact toward any living thing. Della Duck suffered without any real social connections for 10 WHOLE YEARS straight. She only has her thoughts to keep herself company in this terrible predicament, which no doubt were looping furiously in Della’s mind all those days spent on rebuilding the Spear Of Selene. It’s honestly amazing Della was able to keep her sanity throughout those many passing hours in that cold painful solitude on the Moon. Many people would’ve been driven to the point of insanity of being alone for that long, but not Della Duck in all of her endearing charm. The thoughts of once again seeing Scrooge, Donald, and reuniting with her triplets was enough determination, of course, to fight back against that severity of her current issues. There’s a lot of symbolism I found here akin to OCD, like say with Della’s thoughts of regret for unintentionally leaving her kids on Earth never leaving her mind, no matter how hard she tried to tune that irrational voice of her’s out on focusing toward the bigger picture of getting back home to make up for all that lost time. Despite putting on a such a cheery headstrong attitude, it’s all of course a facade masking Della’s depression and compulsive thoughts deep down.

Della has a low self-esteem for making the decision to hop onto the Spear of Selene and getting torn away from everyone/everything she loved in life. Anytime I look back on this scene where Della drops the headstrong nature for a split second with tears running down her face, these words just write themselves showing Della’s real inner thoughts.

If I hadn’t made the decision to take that rocket, I could’ve been much happier and better off. I don’t deserve to even call myself a mother. I’m a terrible person for not being by my kids side when they were born and helping them grow up. Della, you’re such an idiot...

Regardless of all that self-hatred and doubt though, Della persevered against it because she knew there’s no sense in crying over spilled milk at this current point. Della knows she deserves to be happy and back at home with her family again, so continues working on rebuilding every piece of the rocket ship.

She put every fiber of her being, mind, and soul into learning the fundamentals of understanding how to properly create a rocket ship. All for the sake of one simple important thing...

Family.

Throughout every day of what seemed like a “solitary confinement” on the Moon Della never once let her mind falter from what she was doing it all for. Even though Della has low self-esteem, struggling with depression among this compulsive internal belittling of herself, she never allows that to break her iron will in accomplishing what needs to be done.

Granted, she sacrifices the key of her gold tooth in poetic fashion to help calm down a Moon Mite mother and her baby, but that is more than rewarded in return by the Moon Landers’ helping her rebuild the rocket once more. After all the years of hardship she had to endure alone, Della finally is able to set out back to Earth instead of just viewing it from afar.

Not gonna lie, every time I look at this shot of Della breaking out into tears saying, “I’m coming boys! Mom is coming home!”, it always chokes me up. This is an individual who has been to put it bluntly, shit on by life hardcore for the past 10 years straight never being able to catch a break in getting home until now. Della, much like her twin bro Donald, has been dealt an awful unlucky hand with how much she had to endure on her own for so long, getting traumatized in certain emotional aspects from all that experience on the Moon.

You can damn well bet my emotions were overflowing, like a waterfall, when Nothing Can Stop Della Duck premiered back in the May bomb of episodes. I’m surprised by how quickly they brought Della into the fray because I genuinely believed they were going to hold off for awhile, until much later down the road, like say Season 3 or something. However, I’m beyond glad they didn’t because, besides shaking up the chemistry dynamic of the family by removing Donald temporarily, that hug was so amazing to behold on screen. It’s all kinds of wonderful.

Anytime I think back on that rough anxiety tremor stuff I dealt with, during 2018′s tail end into early January, Della’s story of her hard-headed never say die attitude against immeasurable odds is one all generations should take big notes on. This beautiful story made me feel less alone in my struggles with depression, OCD, and anxiety. Seeing Della never give up because her family was always there for her in spirit hit me in the heart real good. Much like how it was for me when my family, most notably my mother, who helped me through those anxiety tremors that hit me like a meteor. Also, knowing Della will still struggle with trying to be a better mother figure adds a real layer of humanity to the story, reminding people that just because you’ve gotten better doesn’t mean you’re outta those woods yet. Della’s story is a perfect representation on life overall because it’s okay to still have problems and not feel weighed down by them too. You’ll always have loved ones there to back you up when you’re feeling like dirt. I still struggle with anxiety, depression, and OCD every day, even though I’m not in that terrible state of mind anymore, but my family has always helped me through this when it counts.

So with all that said, please remember to think of this message when you’re feeling very down on your own self-worth.

If Della Duck can overcome not only her emotional insecurities, but the large void of space and solitude that came with it for a decade, then I should be able to handle my own baggage with this same attitude.

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this story of an experience from my life and how DuckTales 2017′s story center around Della inspired a more positive outlook for me in the future. Feel free to share your own perspectives in the comments if you’re feeling up for it!

#della duck #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #whatever happened to della duck #ducktales season 2 #my life experience #relatable #huey dewey and louie #scrooge mcduck #donald duck #ducktales 2k17

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