#(so not the /longest/ they could be but certainly on the long side for Tumblr)

[amtrak12]

Fanfic Meta: First Draft vs Final Draft w/ Examples (1/2)

Does anybody remember those LiveJournal posts on fanfic meta? Like not actual fanfic, but meta on how to write/post a fanfic? There was a whole big table of links that I can no longer find, but I HAVE tracked down synedochic's posts on dreamwidth. These were hands down the most helpful things I've read on story structure until I discovered Helping Writers Become Authors years later. Just INCREDIBLE work.

Anyway, you still see meta on how to post fic on Tumblr, but you don’t really get writing meta much, unless someone is analyzing the text of a specific fandom. So now that I’m finally hitting the point where I can write to the level of my tastes (or near enough to enjoy reading my own work), I thought it might be fun to bring back that vibe and share some writing meta. Maybe some other fic writers or aspiring writers will find it helpful :)

My current WIP is a Lucifer story called “Can We Keep Her”, and it’s a full sci-fi/fantasy novel length fic. Like it’ll be 190k words long when all is said and done, easy. (And there’s still two sequels planned oops.) It’s my longest fic to date BY FAR, and I am utilizing every skill I’ve ever learned and still learning five more with every chapter. One of the biggest techniques I’ve been utilizing is using multiple drafts to take the story from concept to final draft. Now, I am not following the common writing advice that says to write the entire story first before editing. Maybe if I wasn’t writing fanfic that could work? Or maybe if this wasn’t my first story over 100k words? But right now, that common writing advice is firmly not for me. Instead, I’ve settled into a pattern of drafting several chapters (anywhere from 2-4 with several more outlined in detail) and then going back and editing them into a state that I’m happy with. Then, when they're edited to at least "readable", I go back to drafting. This pattern is working for me and, as a result, means I’ve gone through the outline -> first draft -> second draft -> final draft stages many times over the last few months. Which is why I figured it was a good place to start with fanfic meta :)

Some caveats on my writing system for this fic before I begin:

I did have a broad strokes outline (the major plot points) completed before I started the first draft, and certainly I had those before I started posting any chapters on AO3.

I might be an underwriter when drafting, but I’m an overthinker when outlining and editing so I don’t really struggle with plot holes. It’s more likely I’ll be able to fill in a plot hole later because of some detail I had already slipped into the story.

“Can We Keep Her” is by far my longest fic, but it isn’t my only novel-length fic or my only plot-heavy fic. I gained a decent understanding of what works for me when it comes to multi-chapter fics from my previous attempts.

All that is to say: your mileage may vary on editing chapters as you go vs writing an entire draft start to finish before editing. But the information I’m covering here should apply no matter when you prefer to edit.

It just so happened that Chapter 10 in “Can We Keep Her” provided a prime example of first draft vs final draft. I had a to rewrite the final scene in an entirely new POV, and as a result I still had the original first draft preserved in a separate document. (Typically, my first drafts get absorbed into final drafts through editing or else they get straight up deleted after I rewrite.) So I’m going to provide the first draft of the scene in this post below the cut, and then I’ll share the final version in a separate post (linked here and at the bottom of the post). Separate posts isn’t ideal, but Tumblr formatting doesn’t allow for better options. This way, though, you can open the posts in separate tabs (on desktop at least) if you prefer to view them that way.

At the end of each version, I’ll share my thoughts about them and cover things like why I chose the original POV, why I changed it, what my goals were for the scene, how the second version supports those goals better, and where I still think it could improve but ultimately ran out of time before it needed to be posted. I hope you find these thoughts helpful or at least interesting!

Original closing scene for Chapter 10 behind the cut:

Chloe was late for lunch. After waiting hours, watching time drag on, a family member of Joey Pillegi agreed at the last minute to speak with them over his lunch break. Chloe wore every professional mask in her arsenal to hide her impatience. Dan knew her too well to be fooled, but she didn’t think the grieving brother noticed. Unfortunately, the interview didn’t lead to another clue. The brother didn’t even know where Joey had been living the last six months, let alone that he’d joined a mob.

At least, Lucifer had finally texted after his therapy session had ended. ‘Apparently pink was the missing feature of the infant’s car seat’ wasn’t the most descriptive message, but it offered a few insights. Lucifer had bought a new car seat for Rory, and Rory liked it. Now hopefully, the rest of their morning had gone as well.

The penthouse elevator opened to the sounds of Rory’s happy chatter against the backdrop of the television. Lucifer spotted her immediately, but Rory remained out of sight, presumably tucked inside the largest blanket fort Chloe had ever seen.

“You two have been busy this morning,” she said.

“Hm? Oh, yes the fort.” Lucifer frowned. “The infant has this frustrating tendency to scoot herself underneath the couch. She’s bound to get herself stuck if she keeps that up!”

“So you made a blanket fort instead?” Chloe’s mouth quirked up into a smile. He’d done this before: complain about something and then do something incredibly thoughtful and sweet under the guise of removing an annoyance. She shouldn’t be surprised at this point, and yet it still managed to impress her every time.

Rory finally noticed her arrival and came crawling out of the blanket fort. “Mommy!” She sprinted over and Chloe dropped to her knees to catch her in a hug.

“Hi, baby!” Chloe grinned. Relief crashed over her as she got to hold Rory in her arms again. The morning had lasted way too long, and she was so glad she could check on Rory again. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Lucifer,” said Devil corrected her. “Get her to use my name.”

“Right, sorry.” Though, internally, Chloe rolled her eyes over his continued denial.

Rory bounced excitedly on her toes. “I saw Aunt Linda!”

“I know you did. Were you good while you were visiting Linda?” Chloe stood up and asked Lucifer, “Did she give you any problems?”

“Yes,” Lucifer said. “She accused me of not listening.”

Given the context of therapy, Chloe wasn’t entirely sure who he meant. “Who did, Linda?”

“No, the infant!”

Chloe bit back a smile.

“She also accused me of arguing with her which I wasn’t doing,” Lucifer gave Rory a pointed glare, “until she said I wasn’t listening.”

Chloe leaned down to talk to Rory. “Was Lucifer not listening to you?”

Rory gave her a conspiratorial smile. “No, he didn’t listen at all.”

“At all?” Chloe gasped. When Rory giggled, she grinned.

Lucifer was far less amused. “Okay if the little demons-in-training are going to team-up together then you’re not allowed to gang up on me too.”

“I’m not making promises,” Chloe said, crossing her arms. She smirked at Lucifer’s annoyance.

“Mommy, Mommy!” Rory tugged on her jacket.

“What is it?”

“All of Charlie’s toys were gone!”

“They were? Oh, no!” Chloe had no idea what toys Rory was talking about. They might be toys back at her mother’s house or at a friend’s house or even a daycare her mother had taken her too. But playing along with the girl might get her more answers than asking direct questions.

“Yeah, they were all gone because Charlie’s mad at me.”

“You think someone’s mad at you?” Chloe asked.

Rory nodded. “Charlie is.”

“Why would Charlie be mad at you?”

“Because I flew without him.” Rory pouted either in a mimicry of how she imagined this Charlie must feel or because she didn’t like the idea of someone being mad at her.

“I see,” Chloe said, though Rory’s responses had only generated more questions. “Well, maybe we should just keep our feet on the ground and not fly for awhile. What do you think?”

“Maybe,” Rory said, stretching out the word in a very unconvincing agreement. Chloe hoped Lucifer was right and that Rory couldn’t truly fly with her wings. She seemed to grasp hiding her wings when they were in public, but if she could fly, Chloe feared the temptation would be too much for the little girl to resist.

She turned to Lucifer and in a quieter voice asked, “Who’s Charlie?”

He threw up his hands. “I have absolutely no idea. I thought she was trying to say Charlotte at first, but either that’s wrong or the girl has a poor grasp on gendered pronouns.”

“No, she seems to have pronouns down,” Chloe said, remembering Rory’s firm correction that Roger Bear used ‘she’.

“My only other guess would be an imaginary friend,” Lucifer said. “Apparently young children can have those.”

“Yeah, an imaginary friend is possible… or,” Chloe braced herself as she suggested, “it’s someone she knows back home with her mother.”

Predictably, Lucifer’s face twisted in disagreement.

“You think she was still made by your parents,” Chloe said.

“It’d have to be my father if she was,” Lucifer said. “Mum doesn’t have a way back to our universe. But I still don’t know why my father would try making a baby angel.”

Or why that angel would think you were her father and not her brother, Chloe thought as Lucifer walked off towards the bar. She could almost understand why he was having such a hard time accepting the obvious. If an angel child being born was so impossible (and for Rory to be Lucifer’s only child over the course of humanity’s entire history, it certainly seemed like angel children were pretty damn impossible), then why couldn’t something equally preposterous like God creating a toddler angel on his own be a valid explanation for Rory’s existence? The problem was, they weren’t trying to determine which explanation was more or less likely to have happened. They were looking for the explanation that best fit the evidence, impossible or not.

Rory desperately wanted to give her a tour of the blanket fort. Chloe assured the girl, she could show it off soon and they could even eat lunch under it, but first Chloe needed to talk to Lucifer. After pulling a pinky promise out of her, Rory toddled off to continue her Fringe episode, and Chloe walked over to join Lucifer at the bar.

A large stack of paper rested on the countertop, but Lucifer leaned on his elbows beside it, staring off into nothing.

“Celestial craziness or not,” Chloe began, “maybe you should start looking at this like one of our cases. Keep your mind open to all of the possibilities and follow the leads until you can rule something out.”

“Not everything is possible,” Lucifer said.

Chloe replied, “In Rory’s case, it sounds like none of it is possible. But she’s here, so there has to be some explanation for her.”

Lucifer sighed. “I know.” He turned his gaze down towards the stack of papers, but he didn’t touch them.

“What is that?”

“Just some names I need to look into.”

That was purposefully vague. Chloe reached across him and pulled the stack towards her to read.

“They’re just some names, Detective,” Lucifer repeated.

He sounded concerned, but he didn’t stop her from taking the papers or try to pull them back. Chloe really hoped he hadn’t backtracked to hunting down the mysterious Sinnerman he was so obsessed with. He had a daughter to worry about now.

The stack was indeed a list of names printed out on computer paper, but each name had a date recorded beside it.

“What are the dates for?” she asked.

“It’s when I last saw them,” Lucifer explained. “It’s probably a fruitless endeavor.”

All of the dates were from 2014. Three years ago and some change. Now, Chloe understood what this list was.

“You’re looking for Rory’s mother.”

Lucifer pulled away the stack of papers. “Like I said, it’s probably a waste of time. She might not even have a mother.”

The denial wasn’t as strong as he wanted it to be. He did realize Rory being his daughter was the only explanation that fit. He just wasn’t ready to accept it yet.

“It’s a pretty big list,” Chloe said.

“My printer can’t print on both sides,” Lucifer replied.

Chloe wasn’t commenting on the length of the list specifically. She remembered all too well just how many people he managed to sleep with in [a week? Two weeks?]. Multiply that out to an entire year since they didn’t know Rory’s birthday, and Chloe almost expected the list to be longer. Then again, not all of his sexual partners could’ve given birth, so that would’ve narrowed down the list.

“Give me half.”

“What?”

“That’s a long list to go through on your own,” Chloe said. “I can help, so give me half.”

Lucifer shook his head. “You have a murder to solve. At least one of us should get to investigate something fun.”

“That murder investigation is stalled until we can either analyze those hairs we found or someone comes forward with information. There’s nothing ‘fun’ to do on the case right now.” Chloe held out her hand for the list. “I bet I can get through my half first.”

“Really?” Lucifer said. “You think turning this into a competition will get me to hand the list over?”

Chloe shrugged. “I mean, it’s not really a competition when I have every California and federal database to work from and you’re just crawling through social media.”

“I am very adept at finding information on social media,” Lucifer argued.

Chloe smirked, already knowing she’d won. She leaned in again to split the stack of papers up. “Here, I will take the bottom half so you can continue where you left off in the beginning of the list.”

“You don’t know that I’ve already started investigating,” Lucifer said, but it was nothing more than his game night protests as he searched for a loophole in the rules that allowed him to not actually lose. He was an extremely sore loser.

“Uh oh!” Rory left her castle-sized blanket fort to run over. “Fringe stopped, Daddy. Look.” She pointed back to the TV where the current episode had ended and the question of whether they wanted to continue watching had interrupted the end credits.

“That’s because the episode’s over,” Lucifer said.

“Fix it.”

Chloe answered, “Hey monkey, how about we get lunch first? Are you hungry?”

“I want more Fringe,” Rory said, glancing back to the paused TV.

“We can watch more Fringe, but let’s get food first, okay?”

It took a little more coaxing and challenging her to a race to the kitchen before Rory pulled her attention away from the television. But then she grinned and ran off down the hallway with Chloe while Lucifer yelled after them about falling. His list of names hovered in the back of Chloe’s mind all through lunch. She didn’t know which of them would ultimately find Rory’s mother, but if she found them first, that mother was getting such an ass chewing for giving the girl up. Chloe didn’t understand how anyone could look at Rory and decide she wasn’t worth fighting for. She’d been away from the girl for just a few hours and had still missed her desperately. How could Rory’s mother not be frantic after days apart? It was infuriating.

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

My Thoughts:

Yes, I do use the square brackets for notes to myself. :P I told y'all this was the first draft version!

So I went with Chloe’s POV originally for several reasons. First, I just kind of default to her POV? I tend to default to women characters in general in my fandoms (maybe because I’m a woman, maybe because I’m queer, maybe both). But also Chloe’s POV is a little more clear-headed and therefore easier to show the reader what’s going on. I do step out of her POV when she becomes super emotional like in Chapter 3 when she learned Lucifer is the Devil. (If a character is too emotional, it can be hard to portray their POV so I like to swing outside of them in those scenes.) But if Chloe’s present in a scene, she tends to be my default POV.

But there’s also a downside with being more clear-headed and not as emotionally invested in the plot (yet): sometimes it means you have less interesting things to say. Which is exactly the problem here. Chloe has nothing real to add in this scene.

Well, she has exactly one thing to add and that thing is the other reason I chose her POV initially: she missed Rory while she was at work and I desperately wanted to show her relief at getting to see her again. I’m more than a little obsessed with all the parental feelings in this story, and Chloe definitely has the stronger parental feelings in this moment since Lucifer is still in conflict over Rory being his daughter.

Except Lucifer’s conflict is exactly what we need to see at this point.

In addition to showing Chloe had missed Rory as if she was the girl’s mother (the dramatic irony, of course, being that she is the girl’s mother), I also wanted this scene to end with the decision to search for Rory’s birth mother. Which it does! Technically. But it doesn’t do it very well, and I always knew I’d have to smooth that out during editing. And while it wasn’t the primary focus here, I always want more Rory cuteness (the family domestics is kind of the whole point of this fic) and I wanted some glimpses into how Lucifer and Rory’s morning alone together went. This version of the scene covers both of those things, but again, not very well. And if I want to show how Lucifer and Rory’s morning went, then why wouldn’t I use Lucifer’s POV to show that more directly?

I realized pretty quickly when I went to edit this scene, that I should switch POVs. So go check out my second post over here to see what changed when I used Lucifer’s POV. Or if you’ve already read it because you’re reading “Can We Keep Her”, then just scroll down to the bottom and check out my thoughts on the changes.

[lazywitchling]

Alright, here we go. My review for The Dabbler's Guide to Witchcraft by Fire Lyte

Final rating: ??/10 - it broke my numbers system.

TL;DR - I like the book. I'm angry at the author. It's great for new practitioners. If you're going to get it, please get it from the Spiral House Shop, get Alex Wrekk's two witchcraft zines to go with it, and go look at/reblog/contribute to the original Dabbler's Week project.

(Also I think this is the longest review I've written yet. I'm sorry.)

This book is very good. I'm mad about that. The author is an excellent writer. I'm mad about that. I want to dislike this book but I can't, and I'm mad about that.

So let's get into the breakdown of why.

First up, a housekeeping thing: "Fire Lyte" is a pen name that I don't believe the author uses anymore, so I will be referring to him as Don Martin, the name he is using on his current projects. I know he's on TikTok, formerly of Inciting a Riot podcast, now of Head on Fire podcast.

Second, some links relevant to the review-which-is-actually-just-a-rant:

The breakdown of things I found that were taken uncredited from Tumblr

I COULD be making this up and reading it in bad faith, but this bit about 'heteronormative marriage' has my alarm bells ringing

Why I hate the title of this book

The original Dabbler's Week project links

Anyway.

I picked this book up specifically because of the title. It's been 3 years since it was published, so it took me a while, but I remember looking at that title when it was first out and thinking "Hey... the timing of this... did this person just wholesale lift the 'Dabbler' idea from Tumblr?"

The answer is: Yes, probably!

(He also summarized the Malachite Dick post from February 2020, but he actually credited Tumblr along with relevant usernames, so that's good and also made me laugh.)

But... yeah. The fact that he's crediting Tumblr from something that specifically happened in February 2020, when the original Dabbler's Week was from late January 2020 and seems to have inspired his whole book? Don, would it have killed you to mention ANYTHING about that project and the people involved?

He's very big on talking about following trails of information, listening to podcasts, listening to the podcasts of people talked about on those podcasts, reading books talked about on those podcast, and so on. But if he doesn't start off by saying "Dabbler's Week was a project issued by asksecularwitch on Tumblr", then how is anyone supposed to follow THAT chain of information, hmm? If his whole advice on finding good witchcraft resources is to follow the chain of people who are sharing information from each other, but he makes no mention of where he got the whole idea for his book, then what?

Side rant: I'm real tired of how Tumblr information is simultaneously treated as too shitty to ever bother reading or mentioning, but good enough to screenshot, repost on other sites, recite word-for-word on tiktok, and apparently write a book about.

ANYWAY. I'm angry about it. I'm gonna be angry about it. Here, please look at these links to the shenanigans that began the original Dabbler's Week, because Don certainly won't tell you about this part.

Anyway.

Some bad things:

I mean, the plagiarism. I keep hesitating to use the word 'plagiarism', because to me that seems like wholesale lifting entire works and slapping your name on them, when all Don did was fail to credit a few Tumblr users he quoted. But then again, if I did that on a research paper in college, it would be called plagiarism, so.

This book is in fact not a great guide for 'dabblers'. The point of Dabbler's Week was that if someone didn't know if they wanted to commit to witchcraft but wanted to fuck around with casting some spells for a week to try it out, there were week-long guides on things someone could do to try that. This book is not for fucking around with magic, it's for people who are already sure that they want to make this a thing in their lives. It handles some heavier topics (e.g. vetting mentors and not getting sucked into a cult) that are very very important for someone who is BEGINNING, but may be too much for someone who just says one day "lol I think I'll cast a spell for fun". A far more accurate title would have been "The Beginner's Guide to Witchcraft", but then he'd lose that punchy and marketable and googleable term 'dabbler'. (Yes, I'm going to be petty about this.)

"Wow Jes, it sounds like you really hated this book."

NO I DIDN'T, AND I'M SO MAD ABOUT THAT!

Some good things:

The author has a writing style that I enjoyed very much. This is a personal preference, but I like when books are either written so that the author is fully invisible (Bree Landwalker's books do this wonderfully), or the author is fully visible, like they're sitting at the table having a conversation with you (Kelly-Ann Maddox's 'Rebel Witch' comes to mind, as does Alex Wrekk's 'Brainscan 33: DIY Witchery'). Don Martin is the table conversation kind. That makes this book very easy to read, while also getting information across in an easily-understood sort of way.

This book fills a very necessary gap in modern witching books. It talks about the online community of witches, and a lot of the pitfalls that have come along with the bonuses of having so much witchcraft available at our social-media connected fingertips.

He gets very in depth with things like cultural appropriation. That's something that you can find in a lot of modern witch books, but Don actually spends the time breaking the concept down and explaining WHY it's harmful, HOW it affects people, and quotes people from the affected minority groups. I have seen the appropriation topic come up in a lot of the witch books I've read, but Don is the one who has covered the topic the best, imo.

He spends time on topics that I myself would have been dismissive of. The example that comes to mind is the chapter 'Can I Make Sh*t Up?' My knee jerk reaction was "Yes, you can make your own spells, you don't need to get someone else's permission. Next question." But Don goes through the full breakdown of yes you can make up your own spells, yes you can make your own correspondences, but no that doesn't mean you can just throw a water soluble crystal in your water bottle because you think it's good for cleansing.

Actually on that topic, he covers a lot of the why not just the what. It's not just 'appropriation is bad', it's 'and here's why'. It's not just 'research your herbs', it's 'here's some examples of things that can and have gone wrong.'

SPELL CANVASES! There are 11 'spell canvases' in this book, and they're pretty much all just kids/teens science experiments (e.g. dissolving an egg shell in vinegar, lighting a tea bag on fire so it flies, and using food dye to color a white flower). He does not give intentions for these spells, but gives a spell technique and then some examples of how you could apply your own purpose/intention to it as needed. It's actually pretty smart, and now I wish there was more stuff like this.

He actually explains what UPG means. Man, 'UPG' is one of those things that I keep seeing as a 'I don't know what that means and I'm to afraid to ask' blog post. When someone pops into the witchy social media circles, we can throw the term 'UPG' around as if everyone knows what it means, and forget to actually explain that it's Unverified Personal Gnosis and what that means. Don's got us covered. Good on you, Don.

The one throwaway line about why you don't have to buy fancy witch things. Tucked away in chapter 12 is this almost nothing-sentence mentioning why you shouldn't be "going broke hoping to buy your way into 'effective' magic" (pg. 161). I have seen, reblogged, probably written posts about 'No you don't need the fancy tools! You can just use whatever! But you CAN buy them if you want, you just don't NEED them.' And we've all seen those around, right? But damn, if Don didn't just get to the heart of it. You can't buy your way into skill. YES, Don, THAT!! THANK YOU.

Alright. I'm running out of words. This isn't a review, it's a rant. Holy shit. Let me shut up with a TL;DR

Almost without doubt, Don liked Tumblr's idea enough to write a book about it, but failed to give credit. But he's an excellent writer and covers a lot of topics that are not often written about in printed books, and to get those blogosphere-ideas onto bookshelves is invaluable. This is a good book for beginners starting out in witchcraft, but not for dabblers who just want to screw around with some spells. Do the pros outweigh the cons? Is it ethical to buy a book when the author gets royalties but the bloggers he got the idea from do not? I don't know. I can't tell you that. You'll have to weigh all this against your own moral compass and decide for yourself. My recommendation is that if you're going to buy it, please buy it from the Spiral House Shop, because if Don Martin's going to get paid for this book, Alex Wrekk should too. Buy Alex's zines. Reblog Sec's posts. Links are up at the top.

[crunchyraccoon]

Ango walked so Tachihara could run

Hello people, this is baby's first analysis post. It is in honor of @hina-has-no-life and it won't be as long or elaborate as most usual posts on here, whoops lol Anyways

So... spies. Ango used to be a (three-way!)spy and Tachihara was a spy turned double-agent.

The difference between them is that in the end, Ango built emotional connections in the mafia (namely Dazai and Oda) but he still returned to his job in the Special Division. Meanwhile Tachihara, through his prolonged mission in the mafia, found them to be closer to him than the Hunting Dogs ever were. Couple that with their respective moral compasses, it's not surprising that Ango stayed on the "Good Side"¹ while Tachihara ultimately turned his back and walked back to the "Bad Guys".

My friend @pumpkinsinaugust has made some excellent posts on Tachihara and his shift from Mafioso Tachihara to Hunting Dog Tachihara and back to Port Mafia's very own Tachihara Michizou!

And while Ango staying as a double agent in the Port Mafia or fully switching over would've been interesting to see, it's good that he remained with the Government. It makes him a quite powerful third party, controlled by neither the Agency nor the Mafia. He will cooperate with either side if the situation calls for it (though there definitely is one of them he prefers for good reasons lol) but can also be a strong foe... as long as you don't make him do actual combat lol

I'm also wondering since when Mori knew about Tachihara being a Hunting Dog. He knew about Ango for pretty much the longest time and certainly isn't above turning a blind eye or creating double agents if it benefits him. The Port Mafia sure is a popular place to plant spies in. Where's the Agency's spy? (hmm... unless?)

And this is where my thoughts are running dry. Keep your eyes open for Hina's take on this topic!

¹ I'm saying it like that from a moral standpoint of a normal civilian. Since BSD has us all sympathizing with the mafia <3

[whispering-woodlands]

Obligatory posting of my fanfic also on tumblr just because.

How to Be a Dog

Summary:

A Dog Waits

A Dog Loves

A Dog Hates

Warnings: None? Just general angst, Rinzler does not think very good about himself

Rain is a near constant on the Grid, happening more often than not. That isn’t to say that there are not other forms of ‘weather’. There is snow out in the Outlands but it’s rare that Rinzler is ever sent there. He has heard, in passing, programs musing on the rain. Rinzler doesn’t find it an important enough subject to devote any time mulling over. There’s more important things to focus on.

Usually.

It’s been at least a millicycle since Clu had told him to stay outside of the building he had entered. To keep watch, not move from his post until he was called upon. It’s not the first time Rinzler has been ordered to guard the sysadmin, or just to stay and keep watch over a certain post. But it’s certainly the longest that he’s ever been left to do so outside, exposed, without being given any updates.

For a moment Rinzler irrationally wonders if Clu had possibly been injured or derezzed. No, he couldn’t have been. Rinzler would have felt it, he’s sure. Could Clu have forgotten him? Highly unlikely, at least he thinks so. He’s useful, necessary, at least for now. Clu reminds him of that often.

With nothing else to think about Rinzler finds himself thinking about the rain. He realizes for the first time how truly cold it is. Standing exposed in it for eight hours now it’s soaked every inch of him. The droplets cascade down his helmet in little rushing rivulets like tiny rivers. They plink softly against the glass, the rhythm almost calming. His body feels numb. It’s shattered quickly however. An alert is brought up on the inside of his visor, flashing red insistently.

Energy Levels: 15%

Seek assistance from authorized personnel.

He dismisses the alert and silently curses it. The pain from his scars is a constant, always their ache but the freezing cold of the rain had turned it into an icy numbness. But the rain cannot reach under his helmet, meaning that the only part of him that he can still properly feel is his face.

His face.

Burning, aching, an acidic rot.

The long arcing scar across the left side. Slowly crawling further up, chipping, eating away at him like a virus. But Clu wouldn’t allow such imperfection, this is a part of him. Integral. Necessary. A reminder from a lesson long ago forgotten. A part of him longs to retract his helmet, lift his face to the sky and let the rain wash over his face as well. Let it numb the constant burn until it shifts into a freezing chill. It’s so very tempting. It would be easy, just a small command.

”No”.

Rinzler isn’t sure if the voice that internally rebukes him is his own or Clu’s. He’s never to remove his mask. Not without Clu’s permission. How weak he is to even think of it. He can withstand the pain, it shouldn’t be much longer anyways.

Clu will be back soon.

He just has to wait.

[trope-appreciation-tuesdays]

My dearest Tumblr Friends,

I’ve been putting this off for far too long, so here goes.

I’m not sure how many of you may know this, but TAT has been around since 2017. 2017! Can you believe it? That’s five years. Five years, 260 weeks, and over 13,000 posts, to be exact, and I’ve been around for every single one of those 5 years, 260 weeks, and 13,000 posts.

I know the issues I went away for a bit to ponder are polarizing with many a strong opinion on all sides, but I think we can all agree that 5 years is a very long time. A lot can change in five years: a community, for one, and a blogger for sure. I am certainly not the same person I was 5 years ago, and I think that fact is starting to show. My personal squicks and triggers were beginning to interfere with my ability to run this event as the open and honest space it deserves to be.

That being said, it is with a heavy and yet relieved heart that I am announcing my retirement as the custodian/moderator of TAT.

I do want to make one thing perfectly clear to anyone who may feel this is not the right decision to make. Stepping down as moderator of TAT isn’t about me cowing to anon hate or the discourse in the community previous events generated. This is about me, the person who runs this blog, who is ready to hand the reins over to someone else after 5 years at the helm of an incredible project that was imagined up by a fellow whumper. An event that was entrusted to me 5 years ago and transformed into one of the longest running and, if I may be so bold, one of the most popular events in the community.

What it all boils down to is that I am ready to move on. I’m ready to focus on other things like my writing (I want to try my hand at writing a novel!) and gifmaking. I want to take a step back, hang up my spurs, tuck up beside the fire and enjoy the fruits of the community I’ve helped build. I want to retire.

One thing has become very clear to me over the course of the last year or so, and friends have even pointed this out to me on more than one occasion. I haven’t been happy running TAT for a while now. In the words of Marie Condo, it no longer sparks joy. I was canceling the event more and more and you guys deserve better. TAT deserves better. It deserves a moderator who is excited about tropes and who isn’t on the verge of a burn out. (And I am dangerously close to that precipice.) I want to be able to enjoy tropes again. I want to write them and read them for fun and comment on them, not because I have to, but because I want to. And so, I think my tenure as moderator has come to a natural close. I want to step aside on a high note, and 13,000 posts seems like a pretty good high note to me, don’t you think?

I think TAT has a lot of life in her yet and I don’t think it should go away just because I have made the decision to step down. I was thinking I could possibly rename the blog to archive the previous posts so that the TAT name could be reused and someone new could take over. I would only ask that it be made clear that I am no longer affiliated or providing input for the blog and the owner would be free to do with it what they will. If anyone is interested, please contact me over DM to discuss. The askbox will remain closed.

I know I said above that I’m dangerously close to a burn out, but that does not mean I haven’t enjoyed every single moment of running this blog. Or of interacting with the amazing members of this incredible community. I am going to miss seeing those 100+ asks in my askbox every week. I’m going to miss getting that first glimpse at the limitless creativity and infectious enthusiasm you all have for whump. This has been an incredible 5 years and I can’t thank you all enough for all the support, love, and understanding you’ve shown me over the years.

I will forever be grateful to you all for making TAT so incredibly special.

Yours in whump,

Marie

[galeforged]

{ ooc } Right... this has been weighing heavily on the brain for a bit there, but part of me is wondering whether it's time I retire from the Bleach RPC on Tumblr. Bunny was of the same opinion just recently and is thinking of archiving her blog, and since the thought crossed her mind, it's honestly been something I've thought about a lot for myself as of late. I'm of the opinion that if it's not something I felt strongly about, I'd have let it go already, but... I'unno, here we are over a week in, I guess.

Case in point, it's gotten harder with time for me to keep Kōtarō and Shigeru's muses going, and these two were my flagship Bleach muses for as long as I can remember! Between reinventions and hiatuses—going as far back as high school and, of all things, deviantART—they were my longest-running OCs online and for quite some time, so naturally I'll always feel attached to them in some capacity. But lately though, it... kinda feels like they've run their course on here? There's no one reason for it, but there's certainly a few I can think about, including but not limited to the following...

I've already gotten to tell all the stories I could tell, and it doesn't feel like I'll get to expand on these that much further, or even tell new ones I've always wanted to for reasons I'm about to get into – which, ultimately, sucks monkey butt for me

Friends come and go, yes, but at least personally, I've seen more people leave than stick around even in spite of the anime's revival; plus, not everyone I actively wrote with is as active as they were (that's no one's fault, really - life's just like that, and I won't bemoan others for being busy or wanting to spread their wings elsewhere)

Something always seems to break out on the dash every couple of months or so, that ends up fracturing the community and splits my friend groups down further, which just sucks the joy out of writing on here all the more

As a result, that leaves only a select few (and I mean few) who're still keen on writing things at length with my boys, and making communication with other writers—even longtime mutuals—a bit more nerve-wracking to initiate

Thus, dwindling muses and waning interest in continuing to immerse myself in the Bleach RPC on Tumblr, which is outweighed by how much fun and easier it is for me to write on the Fire Emblem side of things, where I don't feel anywhere near this level of dread or hesitation

So... yeah, I don't know what this will mean for the immediate future. Maybe I wrote this out for a pity party or simply wanted to vent, or I'll make the Bleach boys request-only, or I remove them outright (with... no other recourse for them anywhere else, which, again, sucks) and commit to other RPCs... or I just take a break for myself and refresh/reboot asks and threads for Kō and Shigs, and then see what happens?

[snowbellewells]

One More {Part Four}

Oh goodness, Melanie @searchingwardrobes This is still your birthday fic (even though I apologize for taking so long to finish it that we could now be celebrating your half-birthday!) One more chapter after this - and I think by the end of this one, things will finally feel like they are looking up for our younger Emma and Killian...

Also available on AO3, if that’s your preference - 

Or from the beginning here on Tumblr

iv. 22 years old (three years old)

“One more move, Henry,” Emma murmured, glancing at her little boy in his carseat behind her as she adjusted the rearview mirror to start out. “We’ll try one more town, okay?” She offered the happily babbling toddler a reassuring smile - really as much for herself as Henry - though he couldn’t agree in words or fully understand her. His gummy grin bolstered her courage all the same.

“Yep,” she repeated with a bob of her chin, putting the loaded car in gear. “This will be the one.” She pulled away from the curb near the small fourth floor apartment she’d rented for the last few years, almost since bringing Henry home from the hospital, and after carefully making sure there was no traffic coming, eased her beat-up yellow VW onto the two lane road out of town.

Despite what she had told Sabine, a friend she had made through Tink Green and whose mother had rented her the apartment she and Henry had called home, Emma didn’t truly have a good reason for moving on . Things had been tough at first - her money certainly stretched to the limit - but she had also found true friendships and gotten as close to putting down roots as she had ever come. Bless Tink’s sweet, mothering soul; the nurse had stuck to her side from the delivery room all through Henry’s infancy and beyond, allowing Emma to finally feel what having a bestie, or even a sister, might have been like. Tink had introduced her to Sabine - no-nonsense, wryly hilarious owner of her own Creole food truck and maker of the best beignets east of Louisiana, and thankfully with a family in all levels of real estate. Between the two of them, they kept Emma afloat, pinch hit as babysitters, and were the only reason she hesitated when the urge to go began to stir within her bones once more.

Despite the small semblance of roots she had established, no place had ever quite felt like where she was meant to stay. Emma couldn’t explain it; she only knew that an itch would start to prickle beneath her skin, restlessness to stir until she couldn’t focus, couldn’t help but think about where she might go next, and then she’d be packing her bags again. Largely due to Henry, and wanting him to have a more stable childhood than she’d had, and the support system she had gained, these three years since his birth had been the longest Emma stayed anywhere since she had lost - 

“Nope,” she hissed under her breath, shaking her head fervently as she glanced back to be sure her sharp reaction hadn’t disturbed her little boy’s quiet doze. “We’re not going there,” she admonished herself, forcing away images of the wrung-out despair on Liam Jone’s face as he’d come to deliver the earth-shattering news, the hopeful excitement in Killian’s bright blue eyes when he had left, those front porch steps where they’d both met and said goodbye, and the cozy den at Liam and Killian’s house, where all three of them had laughed and talked and stuffed their faces full of popcorn as they’d journeyed the world via tv travel shows, all scrunched onto the brothers’ small overstuffed couch together. That was only place she had ever left that she truly missed.

By this point, she had lived all up and down the eastern seaboard, from Maine to Florida, and each of the bustling cities and small hamlets had their charms, but not one had ever stuck to her, not the way she felt that a home should do. When Tink had demanded to know where she was heading, why she suddenly had to go, Emma didn’t even have a good reply, other than to say Maine and that she felt like giving it a second chance. She just knew some thread inside was pulling her, and instead of forward to some unknown once more, she was winding her way back.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left so quickly years ago. She had been shattered, yes, and there wasn’t anything holding her there, but she could have been present for a devastated man who might as well have been a brother; they could have grieved together, found some sort of closure and peace. Instead, she had been romaing ever since - as if some new place, some view over the water or the right stretch of highway could ever fill the void in her soul.

Flicking her turn signal, Emma left behind the quiet street she travelled nearly every day, guiding the sturdy older car smoothly onto the busy highway that would have them slowly beginning to wend their way northward. Henry slept contentedly, though Emma left the radio on a gentle, folksy station just in case, hoping the easy rhythms might be soothing if he woke fussy. Her whole world and reason for being sat just behind her in that carseat, and though it had been painstakingly hard to trip, fall, fail, pull herself up, and repeat the whole thing over and again, she wouldn’t choose to live her life differently, or she wouldn’t have him.

Not doubt there would be those who considered her a terrible parent for uprooting her son from the environment he was used to, the extended family who had been there for them both when Henry had colic, or she just needed a few hours to herself, or who were willing to accept rent just a couple days late if her paychecks didn’t fall quite right one month. Emma was well aware that she was working without a net and didn’t have much of a plan either, but then, that had been the case her entire life. When it came right down to it, she had to depend on her own grit and determination - having known a bit of backup and support in the last couple years didn’t undo a lifetime of prior experience.

Plus, if she was to keep a brave face for Henry, to show him a strong, capable front as he got older and doubtlessly more perceptive, then she had to see to her own needs and desires occasionally, whether they made sense to the rest of the world or not. When she finally stopped for the evening, to find them some supper and a motel room for the night, they were almost out of Georgia and up into North Carolina. Henry whined grumpily when she extricated him from the carseat and took his hand to lead him into the all-night Waffle House, but he cheered considerably at the prospect of chocolate chip pancakes, just as she had known he would.

It was only as she curled up in bed that night, surrounding her little boy’s small form with her own body as she attempted to get comfortable on the thin mattress which had clearly seen better days - certainly not a lot of support for her neck and back already stiff from driving for hours - that she found she still couldn’t relax. With a resigned sigh, Emma forced her eyes closed and tried to rest. She’d chosen to make this journey on as small a budget as possible, not wanting to decimate the tiny nest egg she’d scrimped and saved to put away for the future. They could have stayed somewhere a bit nicer, if her earlier life hadn’t trained her to be frugal to the extreme - even now as an adult gainfully employed and getting by better than she might once have been able to imagine.

Thankfully, the thickness of mattresses or the age and wear of motel wallpaper made little difference to a three-year-old. Henry was simply excited by the whole adventure; he’d gotten chocolate chip pancakes, an extra story as he fought valiantly to keep his eyes from closing in sleep, and the promise that tomorrow they would see and ride a real train on the Tweetsie Railroad in Blowing Rock. Emma wondered if she had ever been that easily joyful - happy and unafraid. Unconcerned for what a new day might bring, and excited to find out.

Exactly as she’d wanted, exactly as she’d hoped and sweat and clawed and fought to make reality, Henry’s first three years had been so different from her own start in life. The way he was resting calmly without a care in the world right now, while she lay staring into the dark restlessly, was proof enough of that.

Despite how physically tired she was from remaining alert and driving for so long, Emma was lost in her thoughts, her mind unable to let go of its restless swirl as her limbs had done. She had just forced herself to close her eyes regardless, when she heard the buzz of a text message from her phone on the nightstand.

Rolling over and then reaching out for the offending object, Emma pulled the cell close to her face, squinting a bit without her contacts and much less light than normal by which to see, she stubbornly strained to decipher the type before her on the small screen. It was from Tink, because, of course it was. In some ways, it felt as if the woman had been hovering over Emma’s shoulder, waiting to cushion her falls like her magical Disney namesake ever since they met. It was little wonder Tink would feel the need to make sure they had reached somewhere safe and stopped to rest for the night. Belatedly, Emma chided herself for not messaging her friend with an update first, so she wouldn’t have had to worry.

‘Hey, E – ‘ the message began before charging ahead in her friend’s typical quick, effervescent fashion. ‘I couldn’t sleep, and I wondered if you might be having the same problem and see this. Anyway, I got to thinking, you’re headed for Maine, right? Some place you spent time in when you were younger? Well, I know I told you that I did some practicum hours several years ago at a physical therapist’s office up that way…’

Emma couldn’t help rolling her eyes playfully at her friend’s way of rambling effusively, even when typing instead of speaking aloud. If they were together, she would be teasing Tink to ‘get to the point already’. Instead, she only shook her head and kept reading.

‘While I was there, I met this gentleman… retired Navy, if I remember right… Anway, he was very nice - helpful, dependable… You should look him up once you get settled. You know, if you need restaurant recommendations or to know which repair companies won’t rip you off, that sort of thing. The guy is noble to a fault, probably why we only went on one date because - Whew, girl, was he handsome!’  Tink’s winky-faced, tongue-out emoji had Emma chuckling to herself just imagining the diminutive blonde saying all that in her usual rush of words and accompanying facial expressions. It made her shock at the last lines of text on the screen all the more pronounced, her breath catching in her throat, choking down her windpipe and making her cough and gasp for breath. Reading the lines over again, Emma still couldn’t wrap her mind around how it was possible. She had never told Tink - or anyone - about the Jones brothers, the closest people to family she’d ever had, and yet there it was in black and white: ‘His name was Liam. Liam Jones’ followed by a telephone number and the promise that she wasn’t trying to set Emma up, her feeling on that had been made perfectly clear.

Stunned, Emma sat the phone back on her nightstand before it fell from her nerveless hand and blinked away the moisture stinging the corners of her eyelids. However it had happened, Fate had either an incredibly cruel or patiently hopeful sense of humor. She might have eventually tried to find her self-adopted big brother once more - if she’d ever felt she could see him without Killian and not bawl until she made herself sick - but it would appear that destiny worked on a schedule all its own.

            %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Three days later, having stopped occasionally for picnics in parks, sleep at motels that seemed relatively clean and safe, and a few other attractions that had caught Henry’s fancy, Emma finally found herself at the address she had seen advertised for rent, not very far from the street where her old foster family had once lived. She could have made much better time without stopping as often, but with a three-year-old in tow, breaks were a must. There wasn’t a particular need to hurry anyway, other than the strange pull in her gut which had set them on their current journey. And in truth, why shouldn’t she sightsee and let Henry have a little fun along the way? She meant what she’d told her son, whether he understood enough to hold her to it or not. She didn’t intend to drag him all over the country like some rootless nomad. She would find a way to silence the wanderlust and stay in one place for him; as long as he liked it here, that would be what mattered.

Dusk was just beginning to gather in the evening sky, pink and orange streaks in the clouds darkening to lavender and gray as late afternoon inched toward the night. Emma exited the Beetle, stretching her back with a groan, and moving to round the front of the vehicle and get Henry from his carseat in back on the passenger side. Her hand had just grasped the door handle when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

Wheeling, Emma froze at the sound of her own name whispered hoarsely on the gentle breeze. Blinking and dumbstruck, she tried to correct her vision, knowing she had to be imagining the sight before her. 

But the vision didn’t melt away, and her heart leapt, finally daring to believe what she saw. “K - Killian?” she breathed, not sure the words had even come out loud enough to be heard. “Is it really you?”

Tagging a few who might enjoy @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @cosette141 @anmylica @sotangledupinit @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @lfh1226-linda​ @gingerpolyglot​ @gingerchangeling​ @thislassishooked​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @scientificapricot​ @tomeandflickcorner​ @winterbaby89​ 

[tirednotflirting]

I posted 3,022 times in 2022

303 posts created (10%)

2,719 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@caramelcalum

@daydadahlias

@burstingsunrise

@calumsash

@pxrxmoore

I tagged 2,615 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#l - 335 posts

#5sos - 205 posts

#a - 168 posts

#c - 126 posts

#h - 97 posts

#m - 68 posts

#cake - 60 posts

#tmh22 - 53 posts

#lashton - 30 posts

#cashton - 30 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#y’all ever have something you reference all the time around people you only ever remember have no idea what you’re talking about until after

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

hi look at him

thank you

46 notes - Posted December 3, 2022

#4

a fic rec list that quite literally no one asked for

I’ve felt incredibly uninspired lately with fic. It’s a shit feeling. I may just be done writing. TBD. But as I’ve been sitting around trying to determine my feelings on fic, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about how I read fic. I’ve been reading it for awhile. I like to think that even in the 5SOS space, I’ve read a really good variety of things. So I wanted to make note of the fics that come to mind when I think of fics that have inspired me/made me feel something/are just really good. This probably will not be very organized and I apologize for that now. 

I’ve been very VERY lucky to get to know a few of the folks whose works I mention here. I feel so grateful to have had even small glimpses into your creative processes. Just before the world Stopped a couple years ago, I was shuffling toward a mindset of writing off fan fiction as a thing of my younger years and I’m thankful that so many people metaphorically hit me over the head with their incredible works. 

there’s some 1D, 5SOS, Shawn Mendes, and also solo 1D boys in here. i think a lot of them are at least a touch nsfw at points but not all of them? yeah. i think everything that is is noted of on the pages they link to? certainly not an exhaustive list of my favorites but these were the ones on my mind today.

Okay, in probably a really strange, completely non-linear order, here we go.

sugar on the asphalt by @justanchorandhope

I genuinely cannot even begin to describe the love in my heart for this fic. this is the fic (and writer tbh) that kept me around on tumblr in 2013 and is the perfect example of everything i loved about 1D fic back in the day. an OC to die for, the perfect dash of so many different tropes, CUPCAKES, southern charm, it has it all. just the sweetest cast of characters. i cannot believe i was 15 when this fic was first posted and now i’m 24 and re-reading this still feels like a curling up with a cup of tea at the end of a long day.

okay basically everything written by @harryandmolly but specifically the following:

like the back of my hand + fear and loathing in mandeville canyon

okay so fun fact i was so thrown off the first time i read the first fic listed there (the second one listed is a sorta AU of the first one taking place in early pandemic/lockdown times btw) bc the OC’s bff uses the exact same nickname i used in high school. okay but Lilly is a GOD TIER OC. i love a story that takes place over a really long period of time + really shows the progression of a relationship. also super random but as a woman in my mid-20s with crazy unrealistic dreams of living in a big gorgeous house with all my friends, the descriptions of the house Lilly lives in make my heart sing. for a story that takes place in a totally normal version of the world, the world building (maybe the wrong term here idk) in this is so great.

i could write it better than you ever felt it

three words: warped tour au. no but seriously there’s this blanket of nostalgia over this whole fic bc of the setting that is so fucking fun (she says having never gone to warped tour but shhhhh). another bright and brilliant OC, SO many lovable side characters, really driving plot. reading this feels like summer in all the best ways. (+ a brilliant sequel of sorts.) perfectly captures silly punk boys + hayley williams is there just being the goddess that she is. my introduction to jasey rae lol. so many things and all of them so great.

the emancipation of ginny

got momentarily distracted reading the teaser sorry i’m back now. ginny: bad ass and gorgeous business woman lady navigating being the assistant for an international pop star who is also her ex. andrew gertler is so stressed the whole time. i like a story that jumps around in time and this one does it in such a unique way. the writing in this is STUNNING, i feel like i am in every scene feeling the misty fog in london and the sun in my eyes on a summer festival tour. a Masterpiece imo. also the niall in this is wonderful in all the ways he can be + taylor swift shows up for a minute.

perfect teeth by @stylesmoothie

why yes i am in fact linking you to MIBBA bc 1DFF was the only other place to really find this i think rip to our fallen hero and what a throwback adlskfjdsl. i am NOT joking when i say that i literally cried when people started reblogging around the final update for this a few years back bc it had been like 5 years since this fic was updated. this fic holds such a special place in heart (as so many 1D fics from this era do). ezra is a brilliant OC and her story is SO GREAT. something i loved about ~this era~ of 1D fic was how expansive the backstories for the OCs were and ezra’s especially just made me fall in love with her. i remember that reading the conclusion to this story (so many years after starting it) felt like this beautiful sense of closure. i had very few constants in my later teenage years but stories like this one were one of them. love love love this story.

(took a brief pause so anna and i could hunt down an old zayn fic from back in the day slkdfjlds leesh came to our rescue bless her)

nom de plume by @stylesprimes

another fic that truly feels like it just? defined an era of my life???? (just had to do some internet wizardry to verify this was a 2014 fic lol) another OC with just the most sick backstory and story told throughout the fic. in this era of fic i was a HUGE fan of the harry styles london indie crew kinda fic. could not tell you why aside from how fucking cool i thought alexa chung was. you really get to see everyone make mistakes and grow in this story which i really admire from both a reader and a writer standpoint. like that’s not easy to do sdlfkjdsl. i love all the twists and turns and it’s a story i love returning to every once in awhile. cecilia’s experiences in this are so so unique and i’ve never really read anything quite like this story. the dynamic between the characters and just the overall vibe of ndp has always been so novel. i love it.

scene 14 by @daydadahlias

this FIC OH MY GOD. so backstory: i feel like i was the last person to read jess fic esp this one like. i was so intimidated by the fact that everyone had already read this and i had all of this knowledge of the vibe and how much everyone loved this that reading this almost felt like being introduced to a friend of a friend, ya know? this fic is Stunning. like i didn’t think it would be possible to be so impressed by college au world building at this point in my life (i’ve been reading college AUs for like. literally over a decade) but this little world that jess created was SO immersive. these characters were all so bright and i loved and cared for each and every one of them despite how many there were. i laughed, i cried. reading this reminded me why i love fan fiction and i feel so SO grateful to be in this fic space at the same time as jess.

love would burn this city down for you by @calumcest

helen has shared so many amazing stories but this one is always going to be my favorite. there’s so much soul and heart and love in this short little piece. i barely have the words for it. i started writing myself bc i felt inspired by the space that helen was helping to create a couple years ago and it’s pieces like this that i think had a lot of influence on the style i would try to adopt in certain ways. she’s so great at showing love in the little, quiet ways. pieces like this one feel like a secret and i’m so thankful i get to be in on it.

another night of takeout by @roselirry

lol i’ve had the second part of this bookmarked on my computer for MANY years and just realized there was a third part to it i had never read. this is a niall fic, little slices of three different days from the perspective of Vee, niall’s assistant in a solo era world. reminds me of a lot of the reasons i love the emancipation of ginny. one of my favorite tropes, a bit of that ‘omg they’re so in love but just refuse to really fully acknowledge it’ kinda situation. only three little bits in this but through the bits of background you get such a FULL story (despite the fact that it’s technically not finished i think?). SUCH a comfort read, i’ve read this so many times that it feels like a cozy, worn cardigan. (also i’ve historically been SUPER picky with my niall fic and this one has really stood the test of time for me)

all the things yet to come by soysauceharry

so i’ve never been a big self insert fic kinda girl. i think i just started out with OC fic so it was just this foreign thing to me for so long. i’m also a very big character person so when a character is really vague for the purpose to trying to be easy to fit a variety of looks and/or personalities into, i struggle to find enjoyment in it at times. but jesus christ, this story is cool. for me, reading this story gives the vibe of like a dream where you’re watching yourself do something? so despite the fact that it’s written in the second person, i don’t feel like i’m watching the story from the eyes of the OC. also despite all of the ‘you’s i just have never read this as a true self insert. i have an MC in my head that is very much a unique character. MC is a graduate psych student, Harry is her graduate advisor for a min and then later just a colleague. follows MC through her graduate studies. the setting and the story are just so pretty and lifelike. i think i read this for the first time in the winter while i was still in school which added a lot to the vibe. i return to this whenever i want cozier vibes.

If you dance with me darling, if you take me home… Will we talk in the morning? by @kaleidoscopeminds

i love a meg fic for so so many reasons. i love this one especially bc the tone of it to me feels like how you tell the story of a fun night out. it feels fun and silly like the stories you tell the night after the night out about all the wild shit you did in the early hours of that same day. i’ve always been very fond of this fic because meg posted it when i was feeling very VERY down about the world and it just made me smile. this fic feels like laughs after shots idk how to describe it just good fun. she is the cake QUEEN but i always found so much inspo in her earlier lashton pieces. they remind me of all the good things about summer 2020. i’m glad they can still take me back to those times of first getting to know some of the folks that i just love so dearly now (baggy salt forever <3)

sail the wildest stretch by @beautifulletdownfics

See the full post

47 notes - Posted February 19, 2022

#3

hi i would like to discuss

thank you

119 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

#2

5sos playing the same fest as green day, good charlotte, and blink???? can someone check on those boys omg???

124 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i can’t believe ashton is the cutest dude on the planet and we just have to deal w that

227 notes - Posted October 23, 2022

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[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi, sex witch! Can you recommend any (preferably online bc we've still got a pandemic after all, also i'm not sure how comfortable i'd be around other people Getting It On) resources for researching getting started on kink practices/bd/sm play and scenes? I've been talking to a long-term and close friend about exploring some things - however we're both inexperienced in sexual things in general, let alone kink. i've found few advice/guide websites for subs (and/or bottoms, most if not all pages i've seen seem to not make a difference there?) some of which are at least somewhat helpful but ngl they're not exactly my focus anyway i've found nearly none for doms and/or tops and the ones i've found so far all seem to focus on 'training' and 'lifestyle' advice while what i'm more interested in is (setting up/planning/practising) play scenes, not any kind of permanent mindset or arrangement or anything like that many articles also paint oddly overbearing ideas about dominance - the interpretation of masculinity and/or domination some sites have made my hair stand on end; not bc they're necessarily toxic but a bit too, well, overbearing. i don't care about "training" anyone (at least i think? not every website defines what exactly they mean when using that word but i'm *not* looking to change my playpartner or their attitude or anything) and i'm certainly not looking to make a lifestyle out of wanting to play for fun some times either - i'm looking to give my partner a good time for sexy things, that's it! (if i could choose a label i really love the idea of "service topping" (service domming? idrc about ~being dominant~ itself that much - i don't mind either! think it could be fun to play that part indeed - but mainly i know my partner would get off on it and i'd love to entertain them!)) bonus hurdle: we're both trans masc vagina havers and i've found a lot of pages (esp with advice for doms/tops) focus either on PIV, anal only and/or cishet scenes and play partners. and while we'll make do either way advice that's not all cishetnormative would be awesome. (also something that's not mainly toy-focused bc, well, we're beginners and it'd be nice not to get any more advice to spend a ton of money on - albeit probably fun, sure - gadgets from the get-go) side note: the search for advice or something like it is mostly to get ideas and reassurance for myself about dipping toes into that kind of play and taking up a top/dom role for one scene or another. ofc we're figuring out the specifics for ourselves with lots and lots of talk and planning and careful experimentation. settings up the basics like protection and prep, check ins, safewords, limits, aftercare and taking things step by step is a given! tl;dr: my sex partner and i are both new to sexual stuff and looking to get into kinky/bd/sm things, do you (and/or your followers) have any pointers on where to start looking for advice, reassurance and ideas for playing and setting up/going through with scenes?

hi anon,

sorry it's taken me a bit to get to this; it got a little buried in my inbox. I'd also like to commend you for sending me maybe the longest ask I've ever received! I didn't know tumblr anons were allowed to be this long and I think perhaps they shouldn't be!

I'm not sure if this part was a question, but my red flags went up the second you mentioned it so I do feel the need to address this just in case someone needs to hear it: "sub" and "bottom" are not the same thing, and neither are "dom" and "top." there are subs who top, doms who bottom, people who will happily top and bottom, people who are delighted to be a dom or a sub, and folks who sexual proclivities are really too slippery to fit neatly into any sort of tidy category.

aside from that, I'm gonna be honest: there are A LOT of words here and I'm not exactly sure where the question is in all of it, aside from the initial request for resources for getting started and getting a general layout on things. for checking out kinky stuff and general idea gathering I'd recommend checking out Evie Lupine's enormous backlog of videos on youtube, and since you mentioned you and your friend are both lacking in sexual experience - which is fine, but adds an extra layer of risk when exploring kink - I'd also really recommend exploring Lindsey Doe's Sexplanations videos for all kinds of primers on anatomy, specific sex acts, and safety.

[poltoreveur]

Save Your Tears

Pairing : James Potter x Reader

Summary : James couldn't able to make up his mind whether or not he wants to stay or to run away from the entire relationship. You made the conscious decision to ended it all.

Warning : Angst, Swearing/Cursing, Underage Drinking.

Words count : 2,7k+

A/N : I've been listening to the weeknd all week and I got an idea while listening to this song. Btw, this is actually the THIRD time I tried rewriting this fic, I hate tumblr for not saving. Not read proof. After the second time, I got upset and just winged it.

The gif is mine.

The party was packed with students, all from each of the houses.

They were all laughing and having a great time with one another. Everybody certainly had their own thing and another to talk to ━ some were flirting and others were trying to make small talk with, but then there was James.

He noticed his friends had already have their own company and left the party moments ago.

It left him by himself but it wasn't like it was the first time, that it had ever happened.

James couldn't really remember what they were there for.

It was not like they had a quidditch game, that wouldn't explain the fact that everybody was practically there.

As his thoughts led him nowhere, instead he let his loneliness take charge and whisk him away to the bar, as he finally gotten himself a drink for the first time that night.

But then, he just stood there - with nobody but a cup full of firewhisky in his hand. Despite the drink being the thing he absolutely love, it seem like it couldn't save him this time. Even with his reputation as a drinker, he only had a sip of his drink so far.

As much as he couldn't refuse not going to a party this massive, he still couldn't bring himself to enjoy it.

He didn't wanted to be there.

His enthusiasm already left him body ages ago.

It was replaced with the feeling of heat as he felt his body tensing up. It all came rushing to him when he couldn't find anything else to stare at but you.

I saw you dancing in a crowded room. You look so happy when I'm not with you.

He kept on eyeing you from across the room.

You had came in to the party with your friends, having the time of your life, laughing and joking since the moment you entered the room.

It was the first time he saw you enjoying yourself in quite a while.

Your attention was so easily distracted that you failed to notice his fiery gaze on your back, watching your every movement.

You felt your body suddenly colliding with another on someone's back, you smiled once they turned around to see the seventh grade student that you've been talking to recently.

You've known him for quite a few weeks, when the two of you had ran into each other during one of his study sessions in the library.

He wasn't that terrible looking if you had to admit to yourself, and he certainly was a decent guy at first glance.

And as the time goes, the two of you started hanging around each other much more often.

You didn't really thought of much of the relationship you had with him until there were days he started to flirt with you.

And you couldn't deny it, you absolutely love the attention he was giving in to you. And at times, you would flirt back to him, trying to tease him a little.

As you noticed that your friends had paired up with some of his, you felt his hands reached down to your waist. You didn't mind it as you surely enjoyed it and lean your body back against his.

In a way, you knew that he wasn't really that interested in you. Your mind slowly realize that he probably had some other intentions than just dancing. And you were quickly proven right as you felt his hand slither down your sides again.

Though, you didn't like the idea of being taken advantage of, you certainly didn't objected to the idea of having sex with him for the night.

You let your mind take charge of your body rather than your conscious and it quickly turn heated when you felt him kissing your neck up his way to your jaw.

You couldn't deny it, you were certainly enjoying it.

As you turned around to face him and hooking your arms around his shoulder, you finally saw the eyes that was staring at you from the moment you walked into the party.

But then you saw me, caught you by surprise.

His gaze was still fixated on you, even when you already caught him red handed.

But then you soon came to realize, that you haven't seen his face this clearly for a long time.

It had been a while, it seem like you had almost forgotten how he looked like.

With all your attention suddenly averted to him, from where he had stand, the light from the room slowly showed the broad of his facial structure.

You hadn't realized how much you really do enjoy looking at him.

From where you were standing, the light had seem to bring out of his features than you had noticeably ignored before.

His face was lit only by the beam of light circular in the room. With that, you could see that he was building himself a sharper jawline than before and his face was becoming more structured somehow.

You started to wonder if it had anything to do with the two of you or you really couldn't care less to pay attention even back then at the time you were together.

Ever since the two of you parted in your own ways, you tried your best trying to avoid him at all cost.

Finding the longest way possible to get to class. Making yourself the last person to enter and first person to leave.

Even went out of your way by pushing those people who are ever close with him and avoiding the same crowd altogether.

During the time, you felt more like yourself, having your own crowd and being associated by who you are and not just James Potter's girlfriend.

Cutting off the people that surrounds him was quite easy and relieving to say the least. But his friends, couldn't stand the idea ━ mostly, Remus.

He had kept on insisting and trying to get the two of you back by saying how the we should 'sit down and have a nice conversation together.' Which you had replied by laughing in his face and promptly walking away.

But here you are again.

Finally looking at him, after weeks has passed that you seem to forgotten how his eyes may even look, you didn't know if it was from rage, the heat of the room or looking at you with someone else.

A single teardrop falling from your eye.

"You alright?"

If it wasn't for the boy to speak up, interrupting your thoughts ━ you wouldn't have even noticed the tear that was already rolling down onto your cheeks.

"Oh, yeah, 'm alright."

You look back at him, he was gripping his drink as tight as he can but his face showed a different type of emotions.

It was desperation.

You didn't know from where, and you certainly didn't stop to think if you had cause it because, how could you.

"I need to go for a moment, if you don't mind."

You excuse yourself from the senior you were dancing with, which in that moment, you didn't want to admit that his name got washed away in your mind.

I don't know why I run away.

The breakup wasn't entirely your decisions.

Though it was you who ended things off, it still wasn't your full decision to do so.

And now anger.

Anger was filling up your body from the thought of your relationship with James.

You started to think back to the night of the break up. How much there were lots of screaming and fighting, but funny was that it wasn't from your part.

You were absolutely baffled and disgusted on how you have learned to love someone as a monster like him in this world.

Not even back then you would give a thought to slap him or shout at him or even hit him no matter what anger you were building up.

But this time, you wanted to scream.

You wanted to shout at his face.

Screaming in the top of your lungs and asked him, how. How could he made you feel like that.

To make you feel as if being with you as a struggle, a problem between the choice to stay or just to end the entire relationship off.

But you knew since the moment he told you, that whatever comes next, it wasn't even your choice.

You could've asked me why I broke your heart. You could've told me that you fell apart.

That night, he kept on pushing you, edging you, trying to make you think that he wasn't there to stay. He wasn't gonna be there.

From his choices, from the moment he started to push his ways with you ━ everything that you did that night, is because it was everything he wanted to do but couldn't bring himself to do so.

But that night, it wasn't the only thing that was already handled off without you.

The thing you felt most absolutely disgusted from him was his reaction. It was the only you didn't hope for and the thing that you didn't expected from his was, relived.

The emotion plastered across his face and if someone could truly die out of a broken heart, yours was that moment right there.

You couldn't even stop to question him.

You couldn't bring yourself to ask him, why.

Because even though that question was drumming in your head, that question was already long answered when he is going back and forth between his two options.

To stay or to leave.

Funny how it was the only thing that was running through his mind during the relationship.

You couldn't stay.

Not in the relationship, not at the party.

But you walked past me like I wasn't there. And just pretended like you didn't care.

You knew this awful painful night had to end.

You couldn't stand there with the thought of hurting and breaking in your head while he was glaring at you from across the room.

The tear was already dried up from the moment you started reminiscing back to what you were.

It was quite a while before your body could function properly without breaking down in the near sight of him.

You needed to leave.

Your throat had felt so much more drier than before you were quickly hit with the wave of emotions.

But you held it against yourself.

You told yourself that you couldn't bring yourself to do so, not after the damage he had caused you.

As you tried walking pass him, trying to get to the nearest exit, something stopped you from doing so.

"Please."

You heard his voice called out over the loud sound of the room, the first word you heard from ever since, as you tried quickly walk pass him.

Take me back 'cause I wanna stay.

The question 'why' started going through your mind again. And come to think of it, you knew it was stupid for you to question why he did it.

No matter how and technicality that it was you who broke it off, but it was his conscious idea to make you drive away and leave him.

You still wanted to scream at him.

Out of everything, he made you an option.

Even in the relationship you were almost disposable, easily abandoned in his eyes.

You kept on walking, ignoring his calls for you but of course, your terms of avoidance had to stop sooner or later.

"Fucking Merlin, would you please just stop already."

You didn't, you still kept your pace as you walk pass him and was heading for the door.

"I swear to- fuck. Won't you just stop it?"

"I did, James. I stop it."

"I stop the relationship that you were so confused to even continue or keep fighting for."

You too tired for another argument.

Seeing him tonight was already draining your energy.

But not for James, he surprisingly stunned.

He had never seen you with such anger, even in the relationship or with other people, you never let yourself to implode and scream at them, no matter what mistake they did you wrong.

But every person has their limit. And James coherently proved yours.

"Fucking hell, just- please, just listen."

"What do you want? Wasn't driving me away enough? Do you want me to feel bad as well for your sorrows?"

Her words really did pain him.

But in a way, he knew he deserves it ━ after everything he had made go through.

"But can we just-"

"Fuck James, I don't want to talk about it."

His lips slowly connect with each other again, sealing himself from saying another word.

He let go of your arm that he didn't even knew he was clenching on to and slowly let his hand down.

"You can't do this to me."

She stated as she slowly turn her body to face him.

"You can't make me feel like this and just come running back for me, that's not how this works."

His thoughts of what he wanted to say to you, quickly vanishes from his mind.

The pain.

Is this what you have felt back then?

Forcing you to do something that he could've done on his own but didn't have the guts do it himself.

He was stringing you along the relationship ━ dragging you to this long, unwanted emotional battle with his demons.

He kept on pushing the better part of the relationship, making you think that he would've always stay.

But there was a point where he didn't think that he deserves you. It built up a conscious in him, saying to leave, even though he wants to stay.

I said some things that I should never say. I broke your heart like someone did to mine.

"I can't stand it, and I don't want to listen."

"Why James, why? Couldn't you at-least give me a reason why? It's the best you can do after driving me to absolute madness these few weeks."

"Because-"

"Because?"

"You know the answer, please don't make me say it."

"No."

"I want to hear it ━ say it to me."

"I can't-"

"James Fleamont Potter, you fucking say it right now or, or."

"What?"

You sigh, you know you can't stand this. You couldn't do this anymore. The argument was getting old and the fights now have nothing to meet its goal.

"We need to break up."

And now you won't love me for a second time.

I realize that I'm much too late and you deserve someone better.

"Don't make me do this the second time, please."

You plead as you stare at him.

As he reach back to his conscious, he could see the tears those were starting to form in your eyes.

Though it pains him to see you sad, your eyes were remarkably beautiful with the gloss of tears over it.

"I can't-"

He started, trying to find the ways to stop you from leaving like the first time but he only could mumbled and trip over his own words and he started to get angry at himself this time.

"I can't- I, I- this isn't fair! You can't! Tell you wouldn't do this, please don't, I-"

"James."

You voice sounded softer as you called out to his name and brush your hand on his shoulder.

He look back at you, seeing that the gloss in your eyes have fallen down from your cheeks all the way to the bottom of your jaw.

Save your tears for another day.

He couldn't stand seeing you like this.

'No, no, no.'

As his hand tried to reach for your face, you reluctantly move away and stop him from doing so.

He didn't want you to cry.

All the things that had happen for the last few minutes had been even more harder for him than it has for the last few weeks.

He knew he still loved you a lot, and maybe in a different, you still love him as well.

As you lowered his hand down, pushing it away, you gave him a weak smile before promptly leaving the room.

Even if he did drove you to it, James feels regret for breaking your heart.

When he realizes he made a grave mistake by letting her go, he tried attempting to rekindle the relationship you both once had but there was never a perfect time to do so.

Now, seeing that you're no longer interested in a relationship with him, really broke him.

It wasn't like you weren't hurting either, but it pains him the most that he will never get a chance to find someone who loves him like you did.

Furiously, he finally gulped down the drink he was holding for the past hour.

It burns his throat as he drank it with anger and smashes the glass onto the wall, causing everybody to look over at his direction.

He wishes that you walk back into the room and leap into his arms again like you use to.

But he knew he couldn't wait for something to happen, the universe just doesn't work like that.

Now, it was already way too late.

[whattheheehaw]

Hi! I’m sorry you’re getting shitty anons about this and you’re probably sick of it so I apologise for asking this but I’m genuinely curious what made you start actively disliking zutara? Like, considering how much excellent and insightful content/meta you yourself used to make/write? I get that interests change over time and you’re totally valid!! the anons sending you hate over it are really dumb, but if you’d be ok with sharing, I’d be really interested in hearing why you’ve done almost a complete 180 on the ship? Was is just burnout/end of a hyper-obsession? Or was it some of us in the rest of the fandom that turned you off? Or was it even something about the ship/characters themselves that you changed your mind about? xx

In short, it was a combination of burnout, dissatisfaction with fandom, and disappointment in myself that caused my disinterest for Zvtara.

I got asks similar to this one a couple of times before, but I never gave a comprehensive answer, mainly because I didn't know how to articulate my reasons why I don't like it anymore. But now that I've been out of ZK fandom for a month and have had some time to reflect, I think I can give a much more thorough response. Beware, this is long and I heavily critique the Zvtara fandom, so if you're a ZK shipper, keep reading at your own risk.

My first minor annoyance with Zvtara is that the fandom has a tendency to idolize certain fics and creators. And while there’s certainly nothing inherently wrong about that, I feel like the Zvtara fandom does it to such an extent that it influences the type of content that content creators make in order to get recognition. And to illustrate my point, I’m going to talk about one of the most famous Zvtara fics of all time: Once Around The Sun by eleventy7.

Don’t get me wrong, I love OATS. I think it’s a great fanfic and I think the author devoted a lot of time and effort to make it such an excellent fic. The plot, the development of the characters and their relationships to one other, and the messages about family and love were all brilliantly written. I mean, there is a reason why it’s regarded as the “Zvtara Bible”. This one fanfic had such a profound impact upon the ZK fandom, and I think the biggest impact that came from it is the dramatic influx of post-war Zvtara AU fanfiction. 

Because so many people kept reading OATS and recommending it to others, I think there was an overall interest in ZK fics that take place in a post-war setting. And I think that all of the high praise towards OATS made more fic writers start to write post-war fanfics because of this demand for post-war AU.* I normally wouldn't complain about it because more content is more content, but in my opinion, 99% of ZK post-war fics are the same fic but in different fonts.

Like, there's at least 3 of these elements in every ZK post-war fanfic:

Ambassador Katara

An assassination attempt (usually on Zuko's life)

A healing scene between Zuko and Katara (usually Katara heals Zuko)

Aang and/or Mai is pushed to the side or vilified to some extent in order to make ZK happen

A private journey between Zuko and Katara to facilitate #6

S L O W B U R N (that's not really slowburn and more like "I love you and I very much want to be vocal about my feelings but #7 is in this fic" but the love story takes up like 30 chapters so I guess it's a slowburn?)

Zuko's advisers don't want him to get married to Katara because ✨racism✨

Ursa is found

Azula is in the fic because a) she's going to get a healing arc ft. Zuko and Katara and thereby helps them get together or b) she's the villain and thereby helps them get together

ZK wedding happens in the FN

After reading multiple post-war fics back to back, I could tell that the format was pretty much the same across the board, which isn't very interesting for me to read. My only other fic options in the Zvtara tag on AO3 are canon divergence fics which almost always take place during The Crossroads of Destiny or after The Southern Raiders. And to some extent, those stories are pretty much the same too. There's nothing really new or creative going on in the ZK fandom fic-wise, and because of that, my interest in ZK fandom started to dwindle.

My second issue with Zvtara is that it's a very old ship from a very old show. Because there's been 10+ years since the end of A:TLA, every nuanced point about shipping and the show itself have been talked to death.** There's just nothing new to say. It's the same arguments being rehashed over and over again in the tag because there's no other interpretation one can come up with.

For example, there's so many people who talk about why Zvtara as depicted in The Southern Raiders is not toxic and that's great and all, but I (and most likely many others) have read those same points about five times already. And for some reason, each time this happens, people act like someone just discovered the lost city of Atlantis when they bring up their new-but-not-new argument in defense of Zvtara. Honestly, I'm ashamed to say that I'm not exempt from being part of the group of people that reiterate old arguments. I've done it with one of my posts about The Southern Raiders and I've done it again with my Zutara/Omashu parallels post.

There's no new content to really dissect and analyze (especially considering Zuko and Katara are rarely in the same panel in any of the post-war comics), and because of this, people are just restating points that someone else made several years ago.*** And even if someone did have a different interpretation of an episode, their ideas would most likely be shut down because for the past several years, the same interpretation has been recycled through the fandom repeatedly and people are resistant to new perspectives.

This brings me to the third thing that I dislike about Zvtara: the insistence that there can only be one way to interpret The Southern Raiders. For the longest time, I've read take after take that said if Katara decided to kill Yon Rha, it would be ok because that's her grief to deal with and if she thinks that's the best way to mete out justice, then good for her. And again, I'm ashamed to say that I perpetuated that idea in a few of my own posts. I have always thought that "Katara killing Yon Rha is ok" is just a bad take in general, but I didn't want to vocalize that opinion when so many people—so many of the nice mutuals that I made—all shared that same opinion. Taking down a popular opinion of your own ship is completely different from taking down a popular opinion of a ship that you dislike. The Zvtara fandom is the first fandom that I was actually active in and I wanted to fit in so badly with everyone else that I just parroted whatever other people said, even if I didn't agree with those sentiments.

This leads me to my final reason why I don't want to be a part of ZK fandom anymore. I think I established myself as a "meta" person pretty early on and because of that, I constantly felt pressured to come up with new takes on the ship. And when people started flooding my ask box with stuff like "Can you write a meta about your thoughts on the idea that 'Zuko only took Katara on that field trip in TSR because he wanted her to forgive him'?" and "What are your thoughts about antis saying Zuko and Katara are toxic because of TSR?", I realized that I don't need to come up with new takes. People just want me to paraphrase something that 10 other people said about the same exact topic, because if I said what I actually thought about the subject (i.e. there is some truth in what antis say about TSR and it's not as much of a "Zvtara episode" that most people make it out to be), I'd probably get ZK shippers in the replies telling me that I'm wrong because x, y, and z or "you shouldn't tag this as Zvtara".

And that was pretty much how my love for ZK turned into disinterest. I was and still am disappointed that I didn't stick to my personal opinions. For as much as I talk about herd mentality on Twitter, I certainly don't practice what I preach. In all honesty, the only reason why I held on so long to ZK fandom was because I had so many nice mutuals there and we all shared this collective distaste for antis. I think I started to become more anti-Zvkka and anti-Kataang than pro-Zvtara, which isn't what I wanted to do when I made this Tumblr blog.

The thing that made me joke about becoming anti-Zvtara was the fact that some ZK shippers just like to send shitty anons to people whom they've reblogged countless different metas from. Sending shitty anons to people in the first place is wrong, but sending them to people who tagged their posts correctly and did nothing wrong is just disgusting.

*I'm not a fic writer and can't speak for fic writers, but it definitely feels like a lot of ZK fic authors are pushing themselves to write the next OATS, and by doing so, they are proliferating the tag with post-war fics that have very similar aspects to OATS.

**I think that as more people point out the same nuanced points about Zvtara, it diminishes the actual significance of those points. Like, it's hard to explain but the more people talk about the subtleties of the ship, the more those parts become glaringly obvious and I become numb to their actual impact on the characters and the show.

***At this point, if someone wanted to make a new argument about Zvtara, I think they would have to look very closely at every little detail in every single one of their scenes together to find a crumb of new meta material. And speaking from experience, it's not very fun trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. Whenever I post a "meta" like that, I feel like I'm reaching to make a point that doesn't exist.

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

Blue Lions: S/O doesn’t want kids

{Hi! Someone submitted this as a request, but sent it to the wrong ask box. I keep trying to tag them yet Tumblr seems insistent that the account doesn’t exist? @angel6776 if you’re out there, this one’s for you love} 

Dimitri: 

He is slightly disappointed, yet relieved at the same time

We all know that Dimitri doesn’t bode well when dealing with fragile things. A child is such a large responsibility and this is a conversation he has feared for so long 

He won’t deny that the dream of a family hasn’t crossed his mind 

After all, there are pressures. He needs to produce an heir...but maybe this is where the Blaiddyd line should come to a close. His family has endured for so long despite their own sins. Perhaps relinquishing the crown may be what’s best for his people 

Naturally, he keeps this thought from you. He doesn’t plan to resign from his position anytime soon, but later on it may be time to choose a new line of government for Fargeus to follow 

One step at a time, things will fall into place. They always do with you by his side

Dedue: 

He is...well, he’s sad. It’s very rare Dedue shows such emotions and I won’t lie about it 

Dedue wants a family. He likes children and gets along with them well despite his intimidating appearance. Hearing that you don’t want to have any does make his heart ache 

It was only up until a short while ago that he deemed the idea impossible. His life was his highness’, but recently he began to have little dreams. Ones where there’d be a mini you in his life. Someone he could pass his traditions from home onto...

He wants to ask if you’ve thought it out completely, but knows better. This is a heavy topic and you’ve always been thorough 

He accepts the fact as it is and doesn’t push the topic for your sake. He may not get to have a child, but he does have you. That’s more than he ever bargained for in a long time 

Felix: 

He’s never been much of a family man. Not to say that he hates kids, but they’re not the easiest for him to deal with. He lacks patience and they are also very demanding 

He’s definitely the quickest to let the subject go. What’s the point when he never cared that much in the first place? 

If you wanted kids he would definitely agree, and he would try to be a good father. Though Felix is pretty certain that in the early years he’d be no good...it’s hard. Anyways, you don’t so that’s one less thing to worry about 

Now he can go adventuring and not have to think about someone hurting his kid. It’s bad enough that people already target you not that they ever succeed

You can’t miss what you never had in the first place, right? 

Ashe: 

Like Dedue, Ashe does want a family. The difference between the two is that he’s always dreamed of it 

Ashe thought for the longest time that he did not deserve happiness. He thought that his life should be used to help other people no matter the cost. There were already two lovable kids waiting for him back home, and he knew better than to ask for more 

The man does not have a greedy bone in his body...yet? The thought of having you has his (husband/wife) made his heart soar. To become a knight, marry, help his siblings, and eventually create a place to call home 

He dreamt all that up without thinking of your own feelings. He feels conflicted between your wants and these newfound dreams he’s become to internalize 

His friends showed him that does have the right to be happy and to move on from the past, but you are his happiness 

It may be greatly disheartening. He may need some time alone; yet, he can’t imagine that ‘family’ dream without you in it. He loves you, so it’ll be okay. The orphanage always can use volunteers too  

Sylvain: 

The runner-up in terms of not caring 

Does he like kids? Yeah, but they’re not a life necessity. Times are different and the Gautier legacy isn’t his biggest concern 

He’s pretty sure that he can just leave the house to Felix’s or Ingrid’s descendants. It may be a burden on them but they’ll definitely do better with it compared to how his family has

He may jokingly behave as if it bugs him, but he’ll shut up quickly if you appear to be upset

Kind of thinks that they’re overrated? Firm believer of the “if you don’t want them, then don’t have them,”  policy because they need proper love and attention. He has no doubt in his mind that he’d love them with all his heart, but doesn’t want to make you go through with it simply because he wants them. This isn’t like when he convinced you to hang a napping hammock on your shared balcony 

Ingrid: 

Well...she’s sort of grateful. She’s heard some “fun,” things about the birthing process from her mother’s midwives at a young age 

Ingrid also doesn’t want to take time off from her work for maternity leave. She’s very busy and sometimes finding time for her spouse is hard enough, so a child? It’s almost unimaginable 

She’s lived her entire life worrying about her family. They needed her to marry and in turn have children. Note the past tense in that sentence 

“needed,” thanks to her position in the war and Dimitri’s assistance, things have improved back home. That urgency is not as prominent as before

So, you don’t want kids? That’s quite alright. The population won’t risk dwindling anytime soon and a few less noble kids won’t harm anyone 

Annette: 

Annette would have liked to be a mother. She doesn’t know if she’d be good at it, but raising a child is something most people seem to do 

If Sir Jeralt was able to raise the professor into such a wonderful person while still being a mercenary, then maybe Annette wasn’t so hopeless? She could teach the little one magic, sing them silly songs, make cakes, and do lots of fun things with them 

It was fun for her to think about, but maybe it isn’t meant to be? She also wanted to work in academia which would be very demanding 

In addition to caring for her students there would also be a child under her wing. She didn’t want to risk neglecting them; so, if you want it to be only be just you guys then that’s fine 

She’s already happier than ever before. Not to mention that she can do all those things with you! Maybe her students would like to have cake? Or she can be the “cool,” auntie to her friends’ children 

Mercedes: 

Mercedes feels similar to Annette. She cares for children and has a deep protective instinct towards them. All the orphans at the church are treated like they’re her own, and because of this she is very accepting of your decision 

She simply decides to give her in place of the parents that cannot be there for the orphans. She cannot be their mother, but that doesn’t mean she cannot help raise them. This way her personal life with you will remain unaffected, and she can still make a difference 

Would it be different to have a child of her own? Certainly. However, that life is not for everyone. She loves you immensely and doesn’t want this to be an issue. All will be well 

There’s much to do in life that doesn’t revolve around the formal picture of a family. Many people out there need you just as much as she’s needed at the church. You both can easily live your separate lives while still having your relationship remain intact and achieving your individual life goals 

[ombreblossom]

Whatever you do don’t open your eyes” for the prompt!

So, I’m not entirely sure what one says before posting fanfiction on Tumblr, but here we go! This is decidedly not horror at all, but uh. Maybe more fitting for something posted on the eve of Act 3, which will inevitably destroy us all.

I’ve never posted fanfiction before, and this is the single longest creative work I’ve ever written, fanfiction or not. Not to mention I haven’t written anything creative, really, in almost a decade. All this said, I hope you enjoy!

The Ins and Outs of Surprises

Content warnings for panic attacks, dissociation, and tooth-rotting fluff.

Summary: In which Jon has a little bit of a rough time with knocking and then goes on to have an unquestionably fluffy evening. Featuring: kitties, the author projecting mightily onto Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist (as is tradition), good-natured teasing of everyone involved, and loads (and I mean loads) of affection.

(An AO3 link will be added to a reblog.)

Jon whipped his head up from his laptop screen at the loud knocking on their front door. This was a situation in which The Beholding would have unhelpfully supplied information about acute tachycardia and panic attack onset signs—if he and Martin hadn’t averted the apocalypse and banished the fears, at any rate. They could scarcely believe their luck some days, could scarcely believe that they’d both managed to live to see an after, to see time march on once more unperturbed by cosmic terrors.

These days, Jon had to recognize the symptoms of an imminent panic attack and allay them himself. Well, Martin helped, kind and loving soul that he was. That Martin had stuck around after they’d ceased being two of a handful of fully conscious people left in the entire world was another thing Jon couldn’t believe sometimes, but he couldn’t be happier that he did.

The knocking continued to barge in on his thoughts every several seconds as he sat stock still at his desk, flanked on both sides by bookshelves filled to the brim of his and Martin’s books and various knick-knacks: Polaroids of the two of them with their friends leaned up against the spines of their books, souvenirs purchased from museums around London, and a collection of small ceramic cats of different breeds and colors. A brief vision of everything on those shelves coming tumbling down in what is solidifying as an inevitable scuffle ratcheted up Jon’s anxiety even more. 

He was tempted to get up and look about their flat for anything that could serve as a weapon, but there wasn’t much other than perhaps a chef’s knife, dull with constant, loving use, that Jon was likely to find, and he was just as likely to harm himself with it as the intruder. Jon’s hands found their clumsy way to his upper arms, gripping them tightly enough that surely there’d be half-moon divots left where his nails bit into his skin. His chest was starting to feel tight, as if someone were sitting on it in spite of Jon’s verticality.

On one hand, he wished desperately that Martin were here because surely they’d be much more capable of taking on an impending intruder together now that Jon was “powered down,” so to speak. On another hand, he was so grateful that Martin wasn’t here to possibly get murdered. Better him than Martin, who’d been through so much (and largely on Jon’s account).

All this, and someone was still loudly rapping on the front door. The regularity with which the knocks came didn’t suggest an urgency or an immediate threat, so why hadn’t the knocker announced themselves? Maybe this mystery person was just trying to get his attention? But who could possibly know The (former) Archivist lived here? Was this even related to his status as Doom-Bringer? Jon remained in his seat where he’d been sending correspondence to the copyright holders of the next drama he was arranging for his theatre club to perform, paralyzed by indecision and a million swirling questions.

The person demanding his attention pounded their door once more, but this time a voice rang out, clear as a bell in crisp winter morning air.

“—you please open the door? I had to leave my keys in the car!”

His heart stammered and shuttered in his chest—much like Jon himself when he was excited, talking in stops and starts about the latest subject that he’d found interesting, but there was everything wrong with this kind of excitement. Martin had always found it endearing, or so he claimed, but he was sure he wouldn’t find this endearing, seeing Jon wavering on the precipice of panic. Jon, mouth gone bone-dry, croaked a response: “M-Martin?”

A little louder, Martin shouted, “Are you there, Jon? I don’t remember you saying you were going out today.” He audibly jerked the door handle, clearly checking to see if the door was locked. Even knowing who was on the other side of the door didn’t stop Jon from panicking. All sorts of gruesome scenarios danced through his mind. What if someone was using Martin to get at Jon, making it seem safe to leave their home only to ambush him once he was exposed?

Suddenly, all noise outside stopped, and this sent Jon spiraling further. He hadn’t really been taking note of his breathing this whole time, but he felt the encroaching fuzziness that he knew came with dropping oxygen levels. 

“Mar...tin?” Nothing still. Martin hadn’t returned yet. Gripping his cheap particle wood desk that carried none of the same gravitas his elaborate oak desk had at the institute, Jon stood up. It was a precarious thing, his legs shaking and threatening to send him to the floor if he moved too quickly, but he needed to know what happened to Martin.

Just as he had been about to take his first wobbly step toward the door, Jon heard the faint sound of a key sliding into a locking mechanism. In no time at all, his dear heart was in front of him, saying something Jon couldn’t parse.

“—okay to touch—Jon?” He sounded worried for some reason, his voice pitching up just that little extra bit, something Jon knew happened when Martin felt powerless in the face of someone in danger.

Where was the danger? Who was in danger?

Something light brushed against his shoulders and stayed there. In the back of his mind, he was sure Martin had meant it as a comfort to focus on instead of the menacing fuzziness. “Why don’t you sit down, Jon. Everything will be all right. Hey—hey. It’s okay. Just sit down, love, and breathe.” So Jon did.

For a while, he drifted, sightless and senseless save for the tightness in his chest.

When he came back to awareness, Martin was there; he’d pulled another chair up close to Jon and pulled him into a loose embrace, loose enough that Jon could escape with very little effort if he needed to. Soft shushing noises filled the room.

Jon lifted his head from its position buried in Martin’s chest and immediately lost himself again in Martin’s eyes. Dark and speckled as soil and just as full of life. Jon had read enough comparisons to celestial bodies in his lifetime (and made similar comparisons himself once upon a time when their relationship was new and Jon had no idea how to close the distance between them, so up on a pedestal Martin went) to think them useful now. Martin’s beauty didn’t come from being a lonely, unreachable, incomprehensible light in the night sky. Martin was beautiful for far more mundane reasons. He celebrated life and the ups and downs of it all. He sowed seeds of happiness whenever he could and hardly anyone left his presence the poorer. Certainly, Jon recognized, he was somewhat biased, and, no, Martin wasn’t a perfect human being and had his bad days when being around people was too much to bear, when he’d snap and sneer and hide, but those bad days were fewer and further between as time went on.

Martin was talking to him, as it turned out. Maybe he should pay attention to that? Push through the words upon words criss-crossing and overlapping in every direction and orientation. Like microcurrents in the ocean just off the coast of Bournemouth. He’d been warned off from swimming too far from the coast by his grandmother when he was younger. Not that he would have regardless (too many tourists, too many people looking to see only what they wanted to see of his shore-side city), but Jon’s wanderings only made her more fearful of what lurked beyond their small bubble.

Focus, Jon. Focus.

“Are you with me? I’m starting to get more worried here.” Ah, there’s the helpless sarcasm. 

Not able to speak just yet, he leaned back, loosening Martin’s hold on him. Without really comprehending the in-between, Jon’s arms wrapped around Martin’s middle. There was a rather inviting spot on his chest that perfectly pillowed Jon’s head when the opportunity arose, but now wasn’t the time. He’d be lost for hours in the comfort of it all. Instead, Jon looked at him.

“I’m with you,” he said, the gravel that rumbled around in his throat more pronounced than usual.

A full sigh blew out of Martin as he glanced away from Jon. “I’m so sorry, Jon. I totally forgot about the knocking….” This was when the guilt set in. A momentary indulgence, Martin told him once when the world was still Wrong. Time to put a stop to that.

One of Jon’s hands pulled Martin’s face back into view and stayed flush against his cold cheek. “Martin, it’s all right. Most days it wouldn’t bother me, but today…. Something about today has me a little on edge. It feels like something’s about to happen, but I don’t know what.”

Martin still looked worried. “Something is happening today, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” Mirroring his gesture, Martin raised his own hand up, thumb following the path of Jon’s cheekbones, gently passing over the scars left by Jane Prentiss’ worms.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. I promise it’s a good thing, though. No traps, no ulterior motives, no earthy manifestations of eldritch fear entities. It’s completely terror-free!”

“You promise, huh?” Jon said with a teasing lilt.

“I mean, as long as you discount the constant low-grade terror of living in a city with several million people and where anything can happen to you at any time.”

“I must say, Martin, you’re exceptionally reassuring today.”

“Thanks! I try.”

Jon just hmmed. 

With a hand still stroking Jon’s cheek and the worried look on his face softening by degrees, Martin said, “How are you feeling?”

Jon took a moment to honestly assess himself. He’d been trying to do that more often since distancing himself from the institute and everything it had represented to him. No more unreasonably late nights of work when he could just as easily spread his work out over the next day or several, and even when he couldn’t, Martin helped him make sure he stopped working no later than seven o’clock each evening. And while his pushing aside his bodily needs was a complicated matter with multiple causes, he’d been working on communicating when he needed to rest, when he was on the verge of pushing past his limits. (He’d been slowly coaxing Martin to do the same, though he’d just as often brush it off when Jon brought it up to him.)

After some examination, Jon replied, “I’m a bit tired, I suppose, but I’ll be all right once I get moving again.” He half-smiled at Martin, hoping to convey a sense of earnestness. Martin trusted him, he knew, and would take Jon’s words at face-value, but it didn’t hurt to lay it on thick sometimes.

The hand on his face was so soft. So pleasant a feeling it was, Jon nuzzled his face into that hand, eliciting a light-hearted giggle from Martin.

“Well, then,” he started, “Up we get! I’ve got something to show you. It’s a little chilly outside, so let’s grab your coat.”

Jon looked puzzled. “Outside? What’s outside?”

Martin gasped loudly. “It’s a surprise, Jon! How could you possibly ask me to spoil a surprise? The sheer audacity—I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed, clutching his chest and a look of profound offense on his face, completing the ensemble of mock outrage.

A warmth settled in Jon’s chest. This silly man was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, no matter how long that ended up being. He let himself be overcome with affection and took the hand Martin had been using to stroke his cheek and brought it to his lips, placing a sweet kiss onto his palm.

“Oh, Mr. Blackwood, whatever can I do to repay you for this betrayal?” Jon crooned, that sloppy half-smile morphing into something a bit more mischievous. He would take any opportunity he could get to coax Martin’s infamous blush into existence, a handsome spreading of color across warm tawny skin, reaching as far as the tips of his ears.

With the expected flush rising on his features, Martin eyed Jon with a mixture of equal parts amusement, affection, and disdain. He gently removed his hand from Jon’s hold and walked over to their coat closet. “What you can do for me, Jon, is come over here and let me help you into your coat!” There was no heat in his words—no, Jon would tease that there was none left to imbue Martin’s words because it was stuck preciously under his skin—and Jon chuckled as he rose from his chair and followed Martin over walked over to where Martin was waving Jon’s pea coat in front of him expectantly.

“All right, all right,” he said, turning around to face the direction he came from, back to Martin, allowing him to guide one woolen sleeve then another over Jon’s arms. (Their bookshelves were intact, if disorganized, to his mild surprise.) Martin tugged on the collar, a signal for Jon to face him.

Though he managed to retain most function in his right hand, despite Jude Perry’s desolate flame ravaging it, it was sometimes painful to flex his fingers. Thus, it became customary for Martin to help him into his outer layers. Buttons were especially difficult some days, but Martin would grab Jon’s lapels and bring him in close enough that only several centimeters separated them and he’d fasten Jon’s buttons for him. Today was no different, though today it was more about the casual intimacy that underlaid the gesture than it was about the practicality of it.

Almost ready to face the damp cold outside, Jon asked, “What’s the rush about, Martin?”

A royal purple scarf suddenly in hand, Martin said, “Well, it’s getting late, and Georgie is still waiting outside with—well, waiting outside, and she and Melanie have a date soon, so we can’t keep her waiting.” Martin curled the scarf around Jon’s neck just so. “Not to mention how miserable it is outside. And I had to turn the car off to take the keys when you wouldn’t answer the door, so it’s probably cold by now, and….” He trailed off, looking at the ceiling with a far-away expression as if contemplating what else to tell Jon in this moment. “In any case, we are in a bit of a hurry, so get your boots on and let’s go!”

Aforementioned boots on and otherwise bundled up, Jon cocked his head to the side. “But, why is Georgie—” He stopped. He didn’t need to know right then. He knew Martin would answer his questions when he felt he could. This was knowledge that could wait. “Lead the way, then, dear.”

They turned toward the door hand-in-hand. Before opening the door, Martin looked back at Jon and said, “I meant it when I said this was a surprise, Jon. I want you to close your eyes and not open them until I say to, okay?”

The proposition of keeping his eyes closed for an indeterminate amount of time didn’t exactly appeal to him, but he trusted Martin. Before he could provide his assent, however, Martin pressed on.

“I know you don’t feel safe when you can’t see anything, but it’s only for a short walk to the car, and I’ll be there every step of the way to make sure nothing happens to you,” he assured. 

Jon could let himself be caught in Martin’s gaze forever, sunny and bright as it was. Now wasn’t the time, he realized. Later on, Jon would lead him to their overstuffed couch by hand and drape himself over Martin and press kisses underneath the line of his jaw and down the line of his throat, as he knew Martin loved.

“I trust you, Martin.” Jon closed his eyes and used his unoccupied hand to gesture to them with a flourish. “Lead on.”

A blast of cold, saturated air assaulted them as Martin opened the door. Taking their first steps outside, Jon tried to place the temperature, figuring it was no warmer than five or six degrees. It was still kind of novel, not having the exact knowledge he was looking for beamed into his head without his consent.

“Hold on, Jon. Stay right here for a moment. I have to close the door. Don’t want our heating bill to go through the roof.” Jon did as he was told, resisting the urge to open his eyes in spite of Martin’s insistence and already missing the solid presence of his hand. As if he were the one with omniscience, Martin yelled back, “Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes!”

Thoroughly thwarted, Jon waited for Martin to take his hand again before moving.

They parted the slow-moving air around them as they walked. Not forceful enough to be considered wind in his book but enough to siphon some of the scant amount of warmth his body produced away from him. People breezed by them, heeled shoes clacking against the sidewalk and snatches of conversations not meant for them drifting in and out of focus. “You said Georgie was here, right? Where is she? I don’t hear her at all.” 

“Georgie has been sworn to silence. Come on; we’re almost there.”

Martin pulled him forward, careful indeed to guide Jon around deposits of snow, soon to be gone, and depressions in the uneven sidewalk filled with slush. London and the surrounding area often got like this in the dead of winter; it didn’t snow overmuch, but when it did, rain soon followed, the temperature never remaining cool enough to sustain large amounts of snow for very long.

“Okay, Jon. We’re here. Keep your eyes closed for a little while longer.” Jon heard the tell-tale sound of a car door opening. The anticipation was roiling in him now; it was hardly bearable. He alternated between centering his weight on the balls of feet and then his heels—and back and forth—trying to dissipate some of the unease.

Just as Jon’s anxieties were building in intensity to a roaring crescendo, Martin spoke again: “You can open your eyes now, love.”

In front of Jon was a cat carrier—no mistaking it. He knew their shape intimately from all the hurried trips to the vet after The Admiral had gotten into food he shouldn’t have. The time The Admiral had eaten a sizable chunk of cold margherita pizza Georgie and he had left out on the table came to mind easily. Several frenzied Internet searches later, words like pancreatitis and anemia rolling around in their minds, they rushed The Admiral to an emergency vet. (It turned out that he hadn’t really eaten enough of the pizza to really worry about it, and the vet had a laugh at their expense, but the experience stuck with both of them.)

Someone had thrown a blanket over the carrier, making it difficult to make out what (who?) was inside, so Jon crouched down to get a better look. He could only imagine the look on his face right then.

A Maine Coon cat stared back at him, its amber eyes searching his and its head displaying a rich coat of golden yellows and deep browns. Jon was nigh speechless. “Who is this, Martin?” he whispered reverently.

Martin crouched down with him. “Well, as far as I know, she doesn’t have a name, not an official one anyway. I started feeding her a while ago on my way back from Tesco, and eventually she started following me back home. I wasn’t sure if she was actually someone’s cat or if she was a stray, so I always shooed her away before we got close to home.”

“That doesn’t answer why she’s here.” He wanted desperately to open the door of the carrier and run his hand through her fur, but Jon settled for poking his finger through the grate. The yet-to-be-named cat sniffed his finger from a couple angles and proceeded to rub her nose and face all over it. Jon nearly wept. 

“I can answer that one,” Georgie interjected, having been nearly forgotten by the other two. She came over and kneeled down with them, eyeing them both with mild concern. “Remember those couple times Melanie, Martin, and I all took off while you were working? Well, this guy was waffling on what to do with Goldie here”—Jon mouthed “Goldie? Really?” at Martin, who could only shrug helplessly—“and came to Melanie and me, your resident cat parents, for advice.

“We discovered pretty quickly that Goldie was a stray, or at least not microchipped. That made the decision that much easier. I walked him through all the different tests he’d want to get done to to make sure she was healthy and spayed and all that. The vet figured she’d been a house cat at some point, seeing as she was fairly clean and decently-well fed, even taking Martin feeding her into account. But no microchip, no tags, and no other indicator of who she belonged to, and the several weeks this guy had been asking around the area to try to find her owners with nothing to show for it?” 

Martin shot her a look. Georgie laughed, saying, “Oh, there was no way I wasn’t going to mention that. You talk a good game of resisting her charms, but you knew you were going to try to bring her home. You exhausted all your options trying to find her owners before we even showed up! The point is, we figured Goldie would find herself in good company with you two. Plus, I know how much you’ve missed The Admiral, Jon.”

This was too much to take in. He hadn’t been aware of any of this happening. In one sense, it was relieving: another piece of evidence to add the mounting pile that The Beholding had truly lost its grip on him. But how could Jon have missed all of this? Surely he joined Martin often enough in his London travels to have noticed him asking around about this cat.

“Hey.” Martin bumped their shoulders together. “I know what you’re thinking. I tried very hard to keep this from you in case it didn’t work out. I didn’t want to tell you about Goldie and get your hopes up only to find out that she had a loving family looking for her. And you’ve been so preoccupied with your theatre club’s new show; I wanted this to be a pleasant surprise.” Jon remembered the playbills scattered around his desk, a cursor left blinking, hovering over a supplicating email.

“You doing all right there, Jon?” Georgie leaned in closer to him, eyebrows furrowed. “We should get Goldie inside soon. It’s awfully cold.”

He’d heard enough. Standing up without warning, Jon waited for the other two to follow suit.

There was a moment when nobody moved. 

In a (in hindsight) hilarious attempt to force both Georgie and Martin up to their feet, Jon grabbed a hold of their collars and pulled, not too hard as to choke but enough to make his intentions known.

Jon advanced on Georgie first and threw his arms around her shoulders in a tight hug. This was familiar; this was safe. It took them a long time to return to a place where they would love each other like this after everything. He’d thought once that it would be impossible, too many misunderstandings and too much unintentional harm a seemingly unending flood under the bridge of their relationship, but here they were.

Pulling away slightly, Jon pressed a brief kiss to Georgie’s dry cheek, a pleasant contrast to their overwhelmingly wet surroundings. He stared deep into her eyes and said, "Thank you for your part in this, Georgie. For helping bring—heh—Goldie to us."

Eyebrows shockingly close to the edge of her hairline and eyes wide, she stuttered out, "Oh! Yeah, sure."

He turned on Martin next, who stood stock still close by, watching the scene with rapt attention. 

“Martin.”

Jon didn’t give Martin a chance to respond, stealing his words with a kiss. Several kisses, really, all short and soft and sweet, with little regard for location. Nowhere was safe: Martin’s nose, cheek, temple, jaw, hair. All had kisses laid upon them in pretty short order. 

As if just realizing he had an armful (and lipful) of Jon, Martin pulled him in closer. “What was that for?”

Jon let his smile take over his face. “For all the kindnesses you do me—big and small, extravagant and simple, whether you believe them to be or not.” And he pressed one more kiss on Martin’s forehead. “Thank you.”

“Oh,” he said. Wobbly, he continued, “Of course, Jon.”

Passersby walked around them. How Jon managed to forget this was a London street where people other than him, Martin, and Georgie existed was beyond him. He only noticed them at all because the chill of the languid London wind was starting to make a home in his bones. Better to work on getting everyone inside before the cold became too much.

“Where’s Melanie? I know she’d hate it, but I want to thank her as well.”

“Oh, Melanie would have loved to be here, if only to laugh at the hilarious conclusion of this rom-com movie plot we’ve all found ourselves in. But a meeting with one of the families she’s been working with ran late.” Melanie couldn’t talk too much about her work for fear of violating the confidentiality of the people she worked with, but from what Jon understood, she had essentially created a career adjacent to social work, in which she helped people living with the aftereffects of the fears’ full emergence reintegrate into society at large. She reasoned she was in a good position to help others shed the influence of the fears, given that she’d spent the last almost year before the Change doing the same. 

Georgie clasped Jon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, though! I’m going to be telling her a~all about this.”

“Are you trying to give me a coronary? Melanie can’t know I have feelings.”

Georgie threw her head back and laughed. “Consider it our payment for the invaluable advice we provided throughout this harrowing process that Melanie will get to tease you about how disgustingly cute you two are later.”

The two bickered for a little bit like this as the sun sank further further beneath the horizon, Martin occasionally chiming in with support for whomever would create the most chaos. He may have been the love of Jon’s life, but Martin could still be a little shit when the mood took him.

Georgie was right earlier. It was cold and starting to get colder, and, frankly, all Jon wanted to do right now was pet this cat that he was legally obligated to rename to something more dignified. Something like The Duchess or Empress Dowager Cat or something else of equal stature would do. He’ considered having Martin help him decide, but if “Goldie'' was anything to go by, then perhaps it’d be better to leave him out of the proceedings.

Starting to move the blanket away from Goldie’s carrier, Jon said, “It’s about time we brought her inside, don’t you think, Martin? I’d like to get her settled in before dinner.”

Georgie stayed a couple extra minutes to help get Goldie, some food she and Martin had picked up for her on the way back, and a few toys into the flat. Jon offered to walk her to the tube station, and Martin offered to drive her back to the flat she shared with Melanie, but Georgie refused both and sent the two of them on their way to go bond with their new furchild.

As Georgie rounded the corner of their block and left their sight, waving to them all the while, Jon and Martin returned to the warmth of their flat. And there she was, lying against the grate of the carrier, not a care in the world. He and Goldie would become fast friends, Jon was sure.

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

Outerwear hung up to dry and boots neatly sequestered on their drying mat, it was finally safe to allow Goldie to explore their flat, which she accomplished in approximately 5 seconds, zooming around from room to room in a series of excited dashes. She stopped in the middle of the living room floor and made several pointed sniffs into the air.

Martin looked over to where Jon stood; he looked positively gleeful with a loose fist poorly hiding a still obvious smile. Frizzy fly-away hairs haloed around his head with some plastered to his face and the rest of his black, silver mottled hair in a hastily-done up-do. It was well known that Jon's hair expanded a good thirty percent in moist air, and today was no exception. It was so charming, seeing this man so unguarded, so unmade compared to his historically meticulous appearance. 

Choosing this moment of loving staring to make herself known once again, Goldie wound herself in around their legs in figure eights, rubbing her scent onto their closes and purring loudly. Jon couldn’t stop the high keening noise that escaped from his mouth.

"Are you all right over there, love?" Martin snickered.

"Quiet, you."

Jon turned to face him. It didn't happen too often, but every once in a while, Jon would gain an extra depth of color in a delicate line across his nose and cheekbones, a warmer brown than what otherwise lived there. Martin was wholly pleased to see the color now, and that it arose from something he helped make happen made his heart soar. 

"This is your fault, you know," Jon said mildly.

"What's my fault?"

He huffed. "These entirely embarrassing reactions I'm having."

"Oh, is that all? Sorry that I can't find it myself to feel guilty, then. I happen to love all these embarrassing reactions you're having." Placing a kiss on Jon's temple, he continued, "You're adorable when you're like this, you know."

"I know you think that, you incorrigible man."

“You are!” 

Jon laughed fondly at this. “There’s no sense in arguing with you about this, is there?”

“Not really!”

Seemingly sensing the end of their dispute, Goldie plopped herself down on Jon’s foot. It didn’t seem possible that she could purr any louder than she was a couple minutes ago, but Martin’s life had always taken one look at his expectations and summarily ignored them.

“Are you seeing this, Martin?” Jon whispered, the awe in his voice unmistakable. “Her Most Esteemed Empress Dowager Cat has deemed me worthy of her attention. I am honored to be in her presence.”

It took everything Martin had in him to not bark a laugh at that. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t quite hear you. What are we calling our cat?”

Their cat. Their cat that they’d be taking care of and cuddling together. Somehow the thought hadn’t occurred to him before, and it threatened to make him speechless now.

Jon muttered indignantly, “Like your name was any better.”

Martin gathered Jon into his arms easily, despite Jon’s defensive posture.

“Why don’t we come up with a proper name for her tomorrow. We’ll call her Goldie for now”—Jon started to protest, but Martin pushed on—“because that’s what she’s been answering to, but let’s just make dinner and enjoy her company tonight, hmm?”

A short moment later, Jon replied, “Yes, that sounds wonderful.”

They debated the relative merits of whipping up a quick curry versus spending a bit more time on a soup with a homemade broth and eventually decided on the former. The sounds of chopping potatoes and the clinking of glass jars containing garam masala, turmeric, red chili powder, cloves, star anise, and everything else necessary for aloo kurma spread throughout the flat. And if Goldie leapt onto the kitchen counter once or twice, knocking over bowls of ingredients and leaving inordinate amounts of fur in her wake, well. That was just fine with them.

[positively--speculative]

I posted 7,830 times in 2021

1241 posts created (16%)

6589 posts reblogged (84%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 5.3 posts.

I added 2,535 tags in 2021

#answered - 578 posts

#anon - 446 posts

#good baby - 442 posts

#kitties - 287 posts

#long post - 284 posts

#good babies - 218 posts

#loki - 128 posts

#loki spoilers - 59 posts

#harlivy - 50 posts

#mcu critical - 43 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and then they get mad when we get frustrated showing them how to do the same basic things over and over again on their phones or their compu

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Capitalism and greed has really screwed with people’s ability to be casual moviegoers. Every studio needs to make a “universe” now and some of you don’t walk in the theater with the mindset of, ‘This is going to be good!’ Instead, you walk in the theater thinking, ‘This is totally going to blow the other franchise out of the water!’ You don’t see a movie to enjoy a movie anymore. You go to compete. And the idea that someone could just enjoy movies from either universe is unfounded to you, because you’ve adopted this ‘pick-a-side’ mentality. Sorry, but it just seems so exhausting. Doesn’t it make you tired?

875 notes • Posted 2021-04-30 21:10:21 GMT

#4

I'm glad Ruby Rose is telling her story, but remember that Ray Fisher has been speaking on the abuse he endured from WB since last year. This isn't a new problem just because a white victim has come forward.

890 notes • Posted 2021-10-20 15:46:07 GMT

#3

I want you all to know that seeing Taika Waititi kissing Tessa Thompson and Rita Ora AND seeing Rita Ora and Tessa Thompson kiss made this poly bi woman feel validated, even if I don't know the context of the pictures.

931 notes • Posted 2021-05-24 04:01:19 GMT

#2

I think Gen Z teens and young adults really need to know something about Emo fashion and music as they enjoy its revival.

I'm not writing this to talk down to anyone just to be clear, but some of you really do take for granted the fact that you have more freedom than millennials and other generations before you to cross manufactured gender boundaries.

I was a teenager at the height of the popularity of alternative bands such as My Chemical Romance, The Used, and AFI. Believe it or not, bands such as these were dunked on because they looked and sounded "like girls." Also, the fact that a lot of their lyrics were emotionally charged didn't help either. Back in the 2000s, boys and men were not allowed to be sensitive. If they were, they risked being identified as gay, and yes, things are a little better now, but in the 2000s, you DID NOT want to be identified as gay. Also, this wasn't just a thing with boys. If you were a girl and had a crush on any of the members of these bands, you got the sideways glances. More than one person in high school suspected I was gay or at least bi (I mean, I am and I just didn't know it back then, but that's not the point). I didn't get it as bad as some of my friends, but the stigma was certainly there.

I just want Gen Z fans to be a little mindful of that when they pish posh someone like Gerard Way's influence in queer culture. Yes, now their aesthetic doesn't seem like a big deal, but it certainly WAS in 2004 and you have people like them to partially thank for your ability to be a little less scared of being identified as queer.

1138 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 17:55:23 GMT

#1

I really want to write an article about how Twilight vampires were "safe" vampires that stripped the queerness of the monster to appeal to white cishet audiences, but I'm lazy and I don't know where to start. 😖

1415 notes • Posted 2021-02-20 19:35:05 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[stargazing-dreamer-girl]

Royalty

Fandom: The Irregulars

Pairing: Billy x female!OC, Leopold x Bea, unrequited Leopold x female!OC

WC: 17k (You can also find it on ao3 here)

Summary: Mary-Belle has always been like family to Leopold. The only one who stuck by his side and rather stayed inside with him than to go outside. That was, until he decided to leave the palace for an adventure and found new friends there, a new family. But, of course, Mary-Belle was still worrying about her friend, the one she had been in love with for years. She watched as he fell in love with Beatrice and still tried to keep him out of trouble, getting pulled into it herself by doing so. With the end of the world near she tries her best.

A/N: This has taken me so long to write and it's the longest one-shot I've ever written. I put a lot of work into this and I hope you guys like it as it is my little baby xD I also posted this on ao3 and linked it above since reading longer stuff on tumblr can be a pain. So, Enjoy!

Whenever she moved through the castle, Mary-Belle carried herself with grace. Her back straight, her head held high, so as to proclaim her status without uttering a single word. Nobody stopped her on her way to Prince Leopold’s room. Somebody knocked on the door for her when she came to a stop in front of it. It was opened right away for her to enter. She gave the servant a small nod in thanks. They knew not to enter after her, so as soon as she was in the room the door was closed behind her.

“You’re back,” she spoke the obvious. Leopold was standing in front of the mirror that looked just as expensive as anything else in the room. He met her gaze through the reflection. She had moved to the middle of the room, hands on her hips and eyes glued to him. He let out a sigh and gave up on arranging his clothes before turning around, feeling the whole weight of her disapproving stare. “You can’t keep disappearing on me. I don’t care if you run away from your family, but not me. You tell me where you go. I worry too, you know. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” She had stepped closer, her hands on his coat, adjusting it to sit right with harsh movements.

“I know, Mary. I’m sorry.” Her touches got softer adjusting his collar before she took a step back when he looked presentable. “But you don’t have to worry. They probably hate me for leaving again and there’s no way I can go back with the soiree taking place tonight.”

She went to sit on the sofa by the foot of his bed, patting the spot next to her, so that he would sit down as well. “Tell me what happened since the last time we saw each other.” So, he sat next to her and told her about the woman who had stolen people’s teeth and tried to assassinate the duke of Winchester and about the mansion they were trapped in and the tarot cards. “If you were anyone else, I would not believe these stories at all,” she laughed softly. Stories about magic certainly were quite unbelievable. On the other hand, the danger Leopold seemed to be putting himself in was very real and believable. “Is there anything else?” She knew that there was. Having known him since childhood she had learned how to read him like an open book. All his mannerism and quirks, she knew about.

“I kissed Bea.” She ignored the way her way heart seemed to constrict at the statement. The way he smiled and the gleam in his eyes let her know everything she needed. The girl, who she had hoped would just be of short interest to him, had made its way into his heart and taken it over. There was no way now for her to find her place there. So instead, she smiled and placed her hand on his arm reassuringly. “But right after, I left. I heard the bells and was about to be late for the weekly breakfast with my mother. I did miss it actually and now Daimler is onto me. He’s the one who talked to my mother, so that I would be allowed to go to Louise’ birthday soiree. All that so he can keep an eye on me.”

“You are helpless, Leo,” announced Mary-Belle. “You cannot kiss a girl and then just leave. Imagine how she must feel.” His gaze moved to the floor. His thoughts had been about how he would make it back in time and not how Bea would be feeling in this moment. He wanted to hit his head for his ignorance. “But there is nothing you can do about it now. Let’s just enjoy the soiree. You might actually like it.” She stood and walked towards the door, not waiting for Leopold. He would need another moment to gather his thoughts before he would attend, so she made her way down to the room by herself where everyone already appeared to be having a good time. There were couples dancing and people talking. A lively atmosphere filled the room. A servant offered her a glass. She lifted it off the tray, her gloved fingers gently holding on to it. The sweetly bitter taste filled her mouth when she took a sip. It took some getting used to before she actually enjoyed the drink.

Rather quickly she was able to find Louise between all these people and made her way over to the girl to wish her a happy birthday and talk to her. “Have you seen Leopold’s entrance? He is already rather popular,” noticed Louise, gesturing towards the dance floor where Leopold held a blonde girl close while they swayed to the music. Mary-Belle hadn’t even realized he was present. “Although he does appear to be a rather inept dancer. I thought the two of you had practiced.”

“Ever since we were little, yes,” confirmed Mary-Belle, “his thoughts are elsewhere tonight which seems to be translating into his dancing. He is quite competent at other times.” The two girls watched as Leopold once again stepped on his dancing partner’s feet, but fortunately the song came to a close and they moved off the dance floor. He apparently didn’t lose his appeal to the girl either since she led him over to a group of people and introduced him. “He seems to be doing well enough for himself,” she pointed out.

Louise agreed before her attention was taken up by another person. “Oh, I almost forgot, there was someone I wanted to introduce you to.” She grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her along past the group Leopold was sitting with, coming to a stop in front of two men. They were quite handsome but didn’t seem to have much to offer other than that. They appeared to have grown up with the idea that having good looks made a personality unnecessary. She entertained them for a little while for Louise’ sake before she wandered off on her own.

She noticed Leopold leaving the room with the girl he had been dancing with. She considered following them but decided against it and let herself get distracted by her surroundings. Louise got ahold of her again, pulling her to another couple of girls whose behavior was already influenced by the alcohol. They were laughing loudly, holding each other up while they filled Louise and Mary-Belle in about Eleanor Margot, the girl Leopold had been spending his evening with. Like how she only cared for herself. A trait she shared with many people present tonight. It came with the upbringing.

But when Eleanor Margot returned, Leo wasn’t by her side anymore. An uneasy feeling filled Mary, so she excused herself and approached Eleanor. “Where is Leopold?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I left him upstairs somewhere.” She waved her hand dismissively, rolled her eyes and turned away from Mary-Belle who was equally as irritated by the short exchange. Making her way upstairs to look for Leopold she passed some people who had separated themselves from the happenings of the soiree and a passed-out girl. She checked one room that was being occupied by a couple that didn’t even realize someone had entered. She quickly left.

The next room was barely illuminated. She entered cautiously but there were no noises coming from the direction of the bed this time. But, through the thin curtains hung in front of the windows she could make out two figures out on the balcony. Curiosity took over. When she came to a halt in front of the window, she moved the curtain slightly, just enough to look through the opening, but hopefully not enough to be noticed. On the balcony, Leopold and Daimler were in the middle of what looked like a very intense conversation with Leo standing on the other side of the railing.

Before she fully realized what was happening Leo had jumped. A shocked gasp escaped her. She moved away from the window, the curtain slipping from her hand. Her shaking hands came up to cover her mouth. What had he done? She hurried to the door to the balcony. Daimler was already gone and when she looked down, Leopold was nowhere to be seen either. She hoped he was alright, that he hadn’t hurt himself and was on the way to his friends. She would have to go look for him herself to make sure of it, but for now she would return home. Too many thoughts filled her head, worries about Leo’s wellbeing.

She made straight for the doors, taking one of the awaiting carriages and drove home. As she looked out onto the streets of London her thoughts were on Leo who had to be out there somewhere. Once again, he had left her without a word. It had been just by coincidence she had seen it happen. She didn’t want to think that she would never be as important to him as Beatrice and his new friends were even though they had known each other almost all their lives and he had just met them. It hurt too much, so she pushed that thought away. She wouldn’t think that way. She would find Leo and he would have a reasonable explanation for it all. Or at least she hoped he did.

Her plans to look for Leopold had to be moved to the day after because after waking up the next morning her mother announced that Mary-Belle had to accompany her. It was a rather annoying thought to be stuck by her mother’s side all day when she could be out. She’d rather use the day to find Leopold than to attend boring meetings with other ladies who would just end up talking about themselves, their husbands or their children. But she complied. They went to a tea house first. If she weren’t as worried, she might have actually enjoyed it. The place was quaint with only a few tables for guests to sit down, the food looked delicious and the tea smelled even more so. The woman who served them the tea always had a friendly smile on her round face that put Mary-Belle at ease. She was quite certain that that woman would provide better company than her current one. But she couldn’t leave. It would put a bad reputation on her family. How ironic life could be. That she had more sense for keeping up her family name than Leopold did. And he was the Prince of England! If she were more like him, she’d just stand up, walk out and search the streets until she found her friend.

She stayed. She stayed and listened to the conversations that were always the same with a small smile on her face that was as fake as the friendship between her mother and the other women present. When appropriate she chuckled. When it was expected of her, she told an anecdote that didn’t happen the way she said but that didn’t matter. Not to these people. Not to her. She could come up with anything as long as it was a story that fit the picture her family painted of themselves in public and what was demanded of her.

The sun was already setting when they returned home. Going out now would be a lost cause. She wouldn’t find anything, even if she didn’t get lost. It had to wait until tomorrow. Maybe she could study a map. Her father had to have some of them. She would ask at the dinner table. Most of the time she got what she wanted, so she was hopeful. It might make it easier to find Leo. And, like she had expected, her father let her into his study after dinner, rolling out a map on the desk. He asked her what she needed it for, but she waved him off with the explanation that she was just curious about London’s infrastructure which – even in her ears – sounded like a weak excuse, but her father believed her. He left her alone with the words that she can stay there as long as she wanted. She just had to be careful and put everything away when she was done.

When the door closed, she allowed herself to relax a bit more. She wasn’t exactly sure how the map would help her now, but she had hope. Leopold did mention some stuff when he told her about his new friends, so she just had to look for some of those markers. It couldn’t be that hard to do. She could find the cellar somehow, she was certain.

The Duck and Quiver. That’s what she needed to look out for. It had to be around here somewhere. She had followed the roads the map had told her to take and she was sure she was in the right place. She had to be. She took a turn to get off Baker Street. It was already a lot different from the environment she was used to, but it was oddly nice. The way the people interacted here out in the streets felt a lot more genuine than she’d ever experienced with people of the royal court. A man was shouting at another, shoving him before they both broke into laughter. Two women sat off to the side watching some kids kick an old can around in the middle of the street as they talked with each other with genuine smiles on their faces.

She took another turn and, in the distance, saw the sign she was looking for; the Duck and Quiver, it read. A relieved sigh left her. She had been looking all morning and finally found it. She made her way over and even before she got there, she saw Leopold. He was up on his feet, so he wasn’t hurt too badly, she concluded. He actually looked happy standing there with the crowds of people passing him.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him further to the side before he knew what was happening. But, when he saw her there, he smiled at her. “You found me!” he announced happily.

“I did! But I only went searching because I saw you jumping off the frigging balcony! Do you know how dangerous that is!” She shoved his shoulder. “I was so worried! I mean, you jumped off a bloody balcony, for fuck’s sake! I thought you wouldn’t put yourself in danger like that. We had just talked about it and then you go and do that. I can’t believe you!” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Leopold tried the same by putting his hand on her arm but she shook it off. “Are you hurt?” she asked. For the first time she completely took in his appearance. His clothes were clean and the patches of skin she could see seemed unharmed.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry,” said Leopold.

“Well, I do worry because you’re my friend,” she explained, hitting him in the side this time. He hissed at the contact. His face scrunched up trying to fight the pain. “You have got to be kidding me! Leopold! You are not fine. How bad is it?”

“It’s fine, really.” She wanted to protest and look at the wound but Leopold didn’t let her speak or pull up his shirt to reveal his side. “I was hurt a little. There was no going around it, you know that. But I have been lying in bed since then to heal and it’s gotten a lot better. I can move, no problem.”

“That didn’t look like it was fine though,” she argued motioning towards his side.

“Well, yes, but you hit me! It’s fine if there is no one purposefully hitting me there. See,” He stood straight, opening his arms and jumping a little, “completely fine again.”

“Fine.” She gave in. There was no way she could convince Leo to rest anymore now. She has had to deal with his injuries before. He never stayed in bed for long. She looked around the place again, watching the people walking by, wondering if any of them were his new friends. “So, they forgave you?” She didn’t need to say which ‘they’ she was referring to for him to understand.

“They did.” He nodded. He noticed the distaste in her face, correctly assuming that it wasn’t aimed towards the people around, the place itself or his new friends. She was still mad at him for leaving. “Please, forgive me. I didn’t mean to leave like that. It was just all getting too much. That life,” He gestured towards the general direction of the castle, “it’s not what I want. I can’t keep living like that, if it means living a life of unhappiness. I wasn’t meant for that kind of life. All my life I was being locked away in the palace. It’s not what I want anymore. It wasn’t ever what I wanted, but I didn’t have a choice. I was born into that life, but now I found a way out. I found another life for myself with friends who like me for who I am and don’t just try to get close to me because of my family.”

“So, you think I’m not a real friend, that I don’t care about you and just want to spend time with you because – what, because you are the prince?” Leopold reached for her hand but was once again shaken off as she took a step back, tears collecting in her eyes out of both anger and sadness. “I was always there for you. Always. And not because of your status or your family but because of you, Leo.”

He tried again to reach out and pulled her back towards him before she could run off. “That is not what I mean. You are my friend, Mary. You are one of the few people in that place I actually care about and leaving you behind wasn’t easy. I never thought you were just there because of my status. Hell, you wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t care about me. You mean a lot to me, Mary, and me leaving that life has nothing to do with you.” He wiped the stray tear that had escaped off her cheek, his voice soft. “I told you everything about how I felt in that place, how trapped I felt. I often thought, you might even know me better than I do myself, but you can’t say stuff like that. It’s simply not true.”

“I know,” she admitted in a small voice. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry. And I’m happy you got out, really, and that you made things right with your friends. I’ll be here for you no matter what. You can always count on me.” She looked up at him. They both calmed down and stepped a little farther apart. The close proximity felt too intimate all of a sudden.

“Well, uhm, do you, maybe, want to meet them?” He asked, unsure of what else to say, but she shook her head no.

“No, thanks. I… should probably go home before my parents notice and everyone thinks we ran away together.” She laughed, even if she didn’t quite feel like laughing having to leave Leopold again shortly after finding him, but it was true. She had to get back. “But I will come back tomorrow, if that’s alright.” At least now she knew where to find him.

“Yes, of course!” He nodded excitedly. But then his attention was caught by something behind Mary-Belle. She turned to follow his line of sight. There stood a girl with a round face that was framed by her long dark hair. She was beautiful. By the way Leopold looked at her, that had to Beatrice. Bea, for short. Mary-Belle wouldn’t call her Bea. She didn’t know a lot about her. Leo had told her that all of them were orphans. Beatrice had a sister, but Mary-Belle had forgotten her name. And of course, Beatrice was the one Leo was in love with. She was looking right back at the pair, confusion clear on her face. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” said Mary-Belle and went in the direction of the Baker Street to find her way back from there.

“Mary-Belle!” Leopold called after her before she had gotten far. “And don’t tell anyone where I am!”

“Of course not,” she reassured him. “Just… be safe.” He promised her to be, but given what they had already experienced, he would probably not be able to keep that promise. He would try though. Or at least not tell her if he weren’t. They exchanged a last smile before they each turned towards where their life was taking place.

All the while they had been watched by Billy and Spike who had been sitting in the perfect position to see when Mary-Belle had pulled Leo to the side, catching Spike’s attention. “Hey, who’s that girl with Leo?” he asked his friend pointing towards the two of them who seemed to be arguing. Spike flinched when Leo was hit in the side, imagining the pain that must have caused him.

“I don’t know,” said Billy, taking in the situation with suspicion. “Looks like another rich girl who wouldn’t look our way twice. Just another one thinking they’re so much better than us. Just look at her.” The distaste on her face supported his argument. “Maybe he used to have something going on with her.” He shrugged. The situation interested him. Her presence alone and the way the both of them seemed to be close spoke against everything Leo had told them. When Leo cradled her face, Billy was convinced that what he had said was the truth. The way that girl looked at Leo held a lot of emotions.

“But what about Bea?” asked Spike. “I thought Leo liked her?”

“Maybe Leopold is a wanker, like I’ve been telling you guys. He doesn’t deserve Bea. Especially not like that.” He looked on, like Spike did, until they went their separate ways. “I’ll be right back,” he let Spike know before walking after her.

When Mary-Belle stepped out onto Baker Street the scenery changed immediately. Men were walking by in expensive suits and the road wasn’t as dirty. She let out a yelp when she was pulled back. A blond boy was towering over her intimidatingly, staring her down. With every step he took, she moved back, away from Baker Street and the people who might intervene in this situation. “Who are you and how do you know Leo?” he basically barked at her. Mary-Belle felt more at ease at his statement, not backing away anymore. Her searching eyes stopped to look at his face. This guy knew Leo. Not a lot of people did, so he had to be one of his friends. She hoped he was. Her change in composure didn’t go unnoticed by him which aggravated him even more. His chest heaving heavily, his fists clenched by his sides.

“I’m Mary-Belle, Leopold’s… acquaintance,” she said studying the face in front of her. His blue eyes stared right back at her. His dark-blond locks were cut short. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you are?”

He ignored her question. “That back there didn’t look it was between acquaintances,” he argued. Mary-Belle’s eyes left his face shortly to look back to the direction she’s had her conversation with Leopold.

“I fear, that’s not any of your business. Why should I tell you anything anyway? You won’t even tell me your name.” She smirked. His face turned red, his muscles flexing. He looked a lot more intimidating like this. Maybe that was a mistake, maybe she shouldn’t have provoked him.

“What are you doing, Billy?” called Leopold’s voice. Mary-Belle let out a sigh of relief when ‘Billy’ backed away from her. She looked to where his voice came from. He was making his way over quickly, followed by Beatrice and two others. A pale girl with long dark hair that was pulled back into a braid, who she assumed must be Beatrice’ sister, and a boy with brown skin who focused on getting between Billy and Mary-Belle and talking the former down.

All eyes were on Leo and Mary-Belle when he came up to her, asking if she was alright and if Billy had hurt her. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just surprised. Not hurt or anything.”

“Who is that, Leo?”, asked Beatrice, her arms folded in front of her chest and an eyebrow raised. The other three were standing behind her as if to back her up, metaphorically and literally. Billy had seemed to calm down, but his eyes never left Mary-Belle even when Beatrice addressed Leo.

“I’m Mary-Belle.” She answered in his stead. “And I can speak for myself, thank you.” She smiled sweetly at them. “I’m a childhood friend of Leo’s.” This answer had to satisfy her because she couldn’t think of much else that wouldn’t reveal Leo’s identity this quickly but she was already thinking about a believable story. She’d stick to the truth as far as she could. It would make it easier.

“And what are you doing here, Mary-Belle?”

“Well, Beatrice,” if it affected Beatrice in any way that Mary-Belle knew her name, she didn’t show it, “I knew that Leo had run away from his home situation, so I was worried. But now that I know where he is and that he’s fine, I’ll be leaving. Which, by the way, had been my plan all along, hadn’t your friend here stopped me.” She eyed Billy up and down once more who was still looking back at her. “Well, it was nice to meet you, but I’m gonna take my leave now.” Instead of going around the group to get to the street she moved straight forwards. Beatrice moved out of her way, but Billy remained where he was. She ignored it, shoving him lightly with her shoulder as she moved past him. This time they let her go, but the questioning wasn’t over. Now they focused on Leo.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” said Jessie. Her tone was not accusing in any way, just curious, different from all the looks he got from the others.

“I did say that. I lied,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. She’s the only friend I have. This is the truth, I swear. She’s the only one at home who ever really cared for me. She cares enough to know that I couldn’t stay there, that I had to get away from that life she’s a part of. That’s also why she came, to check up on me, to see if I was alright. I swear to you guys, that’s the truth. I didn’t tell you because…” He stopped for a second. Why hadn’t he told them about Mary-Belle? “If you had known that there was this person at home that cared about me like she does, you wouldn’t have let me in, we wouldn’t be the way we are now.” And he had wanted to keep her a secret. She had stuck by his side all their life. He never understood why she had decided to stay inside with him when there was so much to see outside of the palace. She did go outside, partly due to his request, but she’d always come back and tell him about what she’d seen. Even if it felt wrong, she belonged to a different part of his life. A life that didn’t fit into this group.

The others were still unconvinced, but let it go for now. He had broken their trust, but his reasoning was understandable, so they would forgive him soon. But now they had things to do. They huddled together revising the plan they had made the night before on how to efficiently shadow Watson before they started the operation.

The next day, Mary-Belle followed the same way she had taken before. Now that she knew where to find Leopold, she didn’t have to stop and overthink whether she should have taken that turn back there or the one up ahead, whether she walked in the right direction or should turn around. The streets were just as crowded as before but a familiar sight made her stop in her tracks.

Men of the castle, dressed in their uniform, were roaming the streets. As she took a closer look, she recognized one of them as Daimler who had been responsible for Leopold for as long as she could remember. They talked shortly with each other, three in total. Then they parted ways. But none of them walked back towards the castle. Rather they seemed to stroll down the streets, their gazes moving over the people. It took her a second to understand what was happening, but when she did, Mary-Belle hurried, taking a different way to get around them and to Leopold before Daimler did.

She kept looking behind her to reassure herself she had lost them or that she at least was in front of them. She had just thrown another look over her shoulder when she bumped into someone. She was about to apologize and move on when the voice of the person she had run into reached her ears. “What happened that you look so panicked, Mary-Belle?”

Leopold looked at her questioningly when she grabbed his arms and looked at him with wide eyes. “Daimler is out looking for you. I saw his men stopping people who resembled you. He’ll be here soon.” She looked back over her shoulder seeing one of Daimler’s men already down the street. “There is one of them!” She pointed him out to Leo. “I’ll distract him,” she offered. “You go hide!” Leopold thanked her quickly before he turned on his heel and ran in the other direction.

She did her best to regain her composure taking a deep breath before she moved into the path of Daimler’s man, looking as much of a fine lady as she was born to be. Her mother had taught her well. “You’re looking for Prince Leopold, have I heard correctly? Did something happen to him?” She faked a surprised gasp, leaning in conspiratorially. “Did someone take him? I had thought my eyes were deceiving me when I saw him in Acton, but it seems he indeed left the palace. He must still be there. It hasn’t been long since then.” She was lucky this man didn’t recognize her as he thanked her for her help and ran off. Not even the fact that she knew of Leopold’s existence threw him off.

While that man was now going to look for Prince Leopold in the wrong part of the city, she remained in the right one. Since she didn’t know where exactly he went to hide, she walked on towards the place she had talked with him in yesterday. He wasn’t to find there either, but she recognized two of his friends standing around there. One of them was the brutish one who had rudely confronted her the day before. Billy, if she remembered correctly. The other one she hadn’t caught the name of but he was the one walking up to her now with a friendly smile on his face. “You’re Leo’s friend, aren’t you? I’m Spike! Nice to meet you! I actually wanted to apologize for this lad’s behavior yesterday.” He pointed his thumb back over his shoulder at Billy who was eyeing the two of them skeptically. He leaned in and whispered, “He can be nice too, y’know, just doesn’t show it in front of new people.” She chuckled. He seemed the type.

“I understand. I guess, I would be reluctant too if a stranger showed up all of a sudden. My name’s Mary-Belle, but you can call me Mary if you want,” she offered.

“Are you kidding me? Of course, I remembered your name. How could I forget? Grumpy over there wouldn’t shut up about you last night.” This caused a real laugh to bubble up in her throat. Spike laughed with her and led her over to mentioned Grumpy.

“Always a pleasure, Billy.” She smiled at him. His expression turned even sourer. She hadn’t known it to be possible hadn’t she seen it with her own eyes. She turned back towards Spike who seemed to be more willing to engage in a conversation with her. “Have you seen Leo by any chance? I was looking for him.”

“Haven’t seen him since he left the cellar this morning, but he’s supposed to meet us here soon. You’re welcome to wait with us.” Spike sent another one of his charming smiles her way which she returned.

“Thank you. I think I’ll do just that.” Turning towards Billy she cocked her head to the side. “So, Billy, harassed any girls already today?” Spike moved to stand between the two of them before Billy could do anything.

“Don’t you think that takes it a bit too far?”, he asked her.

“No, I don’t actually. He cornered me and wouldn’t let me go until you guys came around. That’s not alright, so no, I’m not taking it too far. I was lucky he was actually your friend and not a random person. Who knows what would’ve happened otherwise!”, she argued. Her voice remained calm, but her eyes gave away the storm of feelings inside of her. Spike looked taken aback, so was Billy. They hadn’t thought of it that way.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing she ever heard Billy say without any menace lacing his words. Their eyes met for a moment before he looked away again and went back to being quiet.

Spike looked from one to the other, wondering if there would be any more or if she had made her point and that’s it. She didn’t say anything either. Rather she opted to lean against the wall they had been standing next to. Spike followed her move to stand next to her.

“So,” broke Mary-Belle the silence, “what have you guys been up to?” Spike and Billy shared a glance, their uncertainty about what to say evident on their faces. “Leo has told me all about the monsters, so don’t worry about that.”

“He has?”, blurted Billy.

“He has,” she confirmed. The boys shared a look, the meaning of which remained unknown to Mary-Belle, but the moment was over quickly and Spike turned towards her. Billy went back to watching the people who passed, seemingly uninterested in the conversation.

“Just boring things, really. Nothing you have to concern yourself with. But we barely know anything about you. Why don’t you tell us something?”

“There is not much to know, to be honest. I’ve lived a fairly easy life, everything dictated by my parents, much like it had been for Leo, but I always had a roof over my head and a warm bed. Whenever we were together, I felt free, like I could just be myself without having to behave the way everyone expected of me.” She stopped talking quickly, thinking back over her words and let out a chuckle. “That was probably not something one should share in their first conversation with someone. Anyways, my favorite colour is blue.”

“Oh, that’s Billy’s favourite colour as well!” Mary-Belle let out a relieved breath that Spike chose not to focus on the first part but kept the topic of conversation light. Her eyes met Billy’s for a second before he looked away again, ignoring Spike who had grabbed his shoulder. “Mine’s orange. You know, when the sun’s almost down but still colours the water. That orange.”

“I don’t even remember the last time I saw that, but it sounds nice,” she admitted. She probably had never seen that, having been held in carriages if they were out at that time. They barely went near the water either. Most of her travel was between her home and the castle.

Billy opened his mouth to add something to the conversation, but stopped himself when someone called out to Mary-Belle. Leo made his way over and asked to speak to her alone for a moment. “Thank you for keeping me company,” she said to the two boys, “both of you.” Her gaze went from Spike to Billy. Then she walked a few steps with Leo until they were out of earshot.

“Daimler found me,” he came right to the point.

“What? Then why are you here now? And not on your way back to the castle?” She tried to keep her voice calm, but failed as it was slightly raised.

“Mother wasn’t informed of me running away. He would lose his job if she knew he let me, so he won’t bother me again.”

“Are you sure? He’s smart, whether you like it or not. He will probably come up with another way to get you to come back. He knows where you are now.”

“He won’t be a problem. I know it.”

“If you say so.” She wasn’t convinced of it.

“I actually have to go now,” he noted. Over her shoulder he could see that Bea and Jessie had joined Spike and Billy and were now just waiting for him. “We will talk soon, I promise,” he adds at the hurt look that flashed across her face. She nodded and watched him go with the others.

Spike turned and waved at her as they were leaving. She raised her hand and gave him a wave as well. A small smile had made its way back onto her face. Another pair of eyes watched her before his focus was taken by Spike prodding him with his elbow.  “Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart, Billy!”

Early the next day Mary-Belle heard word that Prince Leopold was to entertain his cousin Helena with a possible marriage in the future. Her mother had mentioned all that off-handedly during breakfast, making Mary-Belle choke on her tea. “I shall meet with him afterwards.”

“I’d assume they already count on you showing up on a day like this. Just be safe, your father had mentioned rising disturbances in the streets.”

“Of course, mother. I will be on my way shortly, then.”

Now she was walking the grounds, having been too late to show Leopold off to his meeting or talk to him about what had transpired the day before and too early since he was still having tea with Helena. Her mind was racing with thoughts about what might have happened, whether Leopold had come back willingly which she doubted but it was an option. Or maybe her worries had been legitimate and Daimler had found a way.

She got distracted by a commotion ahead of her. Palace guards stormed over to a person who had seemed to have jumped the wall. She neared cautiously which turned into confident steps when she identified the person being escorted off the grounds as Spike. She held herself high to convey as much authority as possible. “Let him go!”, she ordered, her voice not giving away the nervousness she was feeling as she stood up to the guards.

“But Lady-“, one of the guards who seemed to be in charge of the rest tried to argue.

“I said to let him go. He will come with me.” The guards who held onto Spike looked from her to their superior who nodded after a moment of consideration. They reluctantly let go of Spike who dusted off his jacket and reorganized his clothes. “And now you should go back to your posts.”

“Yes, Lady Mary-Belle!” They left, but not without wary side glances at Spike whom she turned to next.

“And you, follow me!” She started walking towards the castle. Spike easily fell into step next to her.

“That was amazing! I didn’t know you had it in you to have palace guards tremble in their knees. Thank you!” He looked back over his shoulder to watch the retreating guards.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’d rather you tell me what happened yesterday that Leo is back now.” Her brain seemed to just now catch up with her actions and the fact that Spike had tried to actually break into the Buckingham Palace. “And how you knew to come here! And why you did it. You just risked imprisonment or even a death sentence! Do you realize that? A lot of bad things could have happened, hadn’t I shown up.”

“Yes, but this is important! I had to come here and get Leo. He needs to come back with me.”

“Why? What happened?” She stopped next to the door she had used to enter the gardens. Her hand was already on the handle before she put it down again. This conversation was better to be had out of earshot of nosy palace personnel.

“Didn’t he tell you?”

She shook her head no. “I didn’t get the chance to speak with him yet.”

“Some guy told Bea who Leo is. He was in the cellar when we came back yesterday. She threw Leo out after. But we need him for what’s to come. She doesn’t know I’m here, but I know it’s what needs to be done.”

“I understand. Alright, come with me. He’s doing something right now, but I will make sure he speaks with you.” She led him through the palace halls, ignoring the hushed whispers of the people they passed at the sight of him. “Why did you come alone?”

Spike hesitated. “Bea doesn’t want to see him and I don’t know where Jessie is. Her and Bea had a fight.”

“What about Billy?”

He hesitated again. “He was imprisoned because he accidentally killed Vic Collins,” he admitted.

Mary-Belle stopped abruptly. Spike almost walked into her but caught himself before he did. When she turned towards him her eyes were widened in shock. “He did what? Wait- how… wha- how do you kill someone accidentally? And who is Vic Collins?”

Spike started to feel uncomfortable under her intense gaze and with the questions. He looked around before leaning in and whispering, “Can we talk about this somewhere else?” She realized they were out in the open, easy for anyone to listen in to their conversation.

“You’re right.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the next room. A quick look around told her that they were alone, so she put her attention back on Spike. “Explain!”

“Well… don’t you want to sit down?”, he asked gesturing towards the chairs standing in the middle of the room.

“No, I don’t want to fucking sit down, Spike! Tell me what happened!” Her voice came out louder than intended. She tried to compose herself again with a few deep breaths but couldn’t help the anxious thoughts of all the possible things Spike might tell her now. Even though she hadn’t been particularly friendly with Billy, she never would have thought him a killer.

“Vic Collins was the master of the workhouse Billy and the girls were at. I don’t know everything that happened to them there but it wasn’t pretty. Billy saw him the other day and then last night… I don’t know exactly what happened but he told me it was an accident. Billy hit Vic. His head hit a pile of bricks and that was it. But Vic was one of them, so even if this was an accident…” He didn’t like speaking those next words. Luckily, he didn’t have to because Mary-Belle understood him anyways.

She knew how important these people were for Leo, so she made a decision rather quickly. “Where is he being held?” Spike told her. “I will take care of it,” she promised. “Leo will get out of his meeting shortly. Until then, I will leave you in good hands.” She once again led him out of the room. He was too perplexed to say much more. She was different than what he had imagined, doing that for a person she barely knew. Billy would be surprised, he thought.

She opened the door to the room she knew Louise would be occupying. She introduced Spike to her who was already charming his way into her heart when Mary-Belle left. On her way out, he called after her to meet them at Baker Street 221B, whether she succeeded or not.

Her first stop was her father’s office. The door was adorned with a plaque announcing the name of the person within. She entered after a voice from inside told her to come in. Her father was not a scary person. He might look the way with his stern gaze and his broad-shouldered physique and if Mary-Belle didn’t know him she would certainly be intimidated by him, but the person in front of her was her father who had never shown her anything but kindness.

“Mary-Belle, what a nice surprise!” His features softened as he recognized his daughter. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be at the palace.”

“I was.” She neared the desk her father was sitting behind. It was a big one, elegant, dark, something conveying his status. “I need your help, Father.”

“What is it, Mary-Belle? Come, sit!” He came around the table and led her to sit in one of the comfortable chairs he had standing by the wall. He took a seat next to her, taking in her troubled expression. “What can I help you with?”

“There is this boy…”, she started, but was interrupted.

“Are you in love, darling?”

“No, no, that’s not it.” She had to laugh a little at the absurdity of the thought. “He is a friend of mine, but something happened. He… There was an incident. He defended himself, but while doing so the other man… he- he died. And now my friend is going to get a death sentence because he is poor and the man he killed was a master at the workhouse. But he is not at fault, Father! It was in self-defense! He does not deserve this, so I need to get him out. Please, Father, will you help me?”

Her father hummed understandingly. “That is quite the situation your friend has gotten himself into. But I might be of help. If he is important to you, he is important to me.”

“Oh, thank you, Father!” She couldn’t hold back the smile as she threw her arms around him. When she let go of him, he walked over to his desk and pulled a piece of paper out of one of the drawers. She watched as he wrote something down on it, put it in an envelope and sealed it. He did the same thing a second time, putting names on both envelopes.

“Now I need you to do something. I do not have the time to do it myself, so I’m leaving this task to you.” She nodded, already reaching out for the envelope her father held towards her. “Bring this to Governor Jameson. If he does as it says in the letter, he will give you one as well. Then this one,” he handed her the second envelope, “you bring to the Chief of Police. As well as the one you will get from Governor Jameson. It will probably not be enough, so,” he opened another drawer. Two little sacks were put onto the desk, the content clinging as they were moved, “here is some money. He may not let him out just by the words of some important people, but I know the man. He is as greedy as they come. Give him this. Save some coins to give to the ones working where your friend is being held. I can’t do any more than this, but I hope it is enough.”

“Thank you so much, Father!” She grabbed the coin bags and put them into the pockets of her skirt before she turned to leave.

“I hope you can get him out, darling. And take care!”

“Of course! I will see you tonight!” She held onto the letters as tight as she could without damaging them as she ran through the streets of London. Governor Jameson’s office was not far but the streets were rowdy. She let out a sigh of relief when she entered the house.

The governor wouldn’t speak with her right away. She was told he was in an important meeting, so she waited in the hall. Every now and then someone passed her but they usually didn’t pay attention to her. As she waited, she thought about what was happening at the palace right now, if Spike already had the chance to speak to Leopold and what he had said. Maybe he went with him. She hoped he did. From what Spike told her they needed him. He had become a part of their group. And now she had to work on getting the last member of that group back.

Now that she had time to think, the pressure she was under sank in. She was responsible for getting Billy out of jail and through that saving his life. If she failed, what other options would he have? Would it be over for him then? She didn’t like to think about that outcome. This needed to work. If not, she wouldn’t know what to do anymore.

A young man came towards her. “Governor Jameson will see you now, Miss.” He showed her the way, knocked and opened the door for her to enter.

“Ah, Lady Mary-Belle. How is your father? I would believe he has much to do with the way people seem to be acting at the moment.” The man behind the desk had a round face. He usually tried to hide his receding hairline with a hat which was now hanging from the hat stand next to the door. He invited her farther into the room before he asked what he could do for her.

“My father sent me. He gave me this letter for you,” she explained and held the envelope out to him. He took it with a smile that couldn’t quite hide his surprised expression. It was unusual for anyone to send their daughters for business purposes. He opened the envelope, intently reading the letter inside, nodding along as he read. “I see,” he muttered when he put it down. “That’s quite the dilemma. I will support this, but tell your father he owes me.” He picked up a pen and pulled a piece of paper from a drawer.

“Of course! Thank you, sir!” He quickly scribbled some lines down before he sealed the letter into an envelope. “I believe you have somewhere else to go now, so I won’t keep you any longer, but remember that this won’t come without a price.”

“Yes, thank you again, sir. I will be on my way then.” She took the envelope from him. Now that she had the letters whose content she was unfamiliar with she felt like half the work was done already, but she was unsure of how the conversation with the Chief of Police would go. He might be the biggest obstacle in her way.

Even getting an opportunity to speak with the Chief of Police turned out to be quite the deed. The whole building was bustling with people running around. There were shouts and clamoring. Everyone was restless. She tried to go about it as usual, walking up to the reception and waiting for someone to offer their help. But even behind the reception desk there was no one who spared her a second glance as they went about their business, frantically looking for things and calling people’s names. She stood there for what felt like forever just watching them ignore her. The door kept being opened and closed, the slam filling the air each time it fell shut. And each time it did, Mary-Belle jumped a little. When the loud noise of the door closing sounded again, she decided she would not wait around any longer. Since nobody paid attention to her anyways at the moment, she used it to her advantage and tried to find her way through the hallways to the one person she needed to speak with.

She never thought it would be this easy to get inside the Headquarters without being stopped, but there she was reading the signs by the doors that would tell her which room she had to enter. She blamed it on the current situation with all that negative supernatural energy or whatever it was in the air. It might’ve helped to ask more about that, but now it was too late. The thumping footsteps came and went, but they never stopped next to her.

When she finally found the right room, she was out of breath. The building was larger than it looked like from the outside. But she was also incredibly nervous. Now was the moment that would decide Billy’s future. She fumbled for the two letters in the pockets of her skirt. The paper got scrunched a little by how tightly she held onto it. This was it. This was possibly the only chance.

She knocked. She wanted to knock with force, letting the Chief know that she was no person easily intimidated, but it was a faint, polite knock. A knock in the way her mother had taught her. Still, it was heard, even over the commotion happening all around and she was asked to enter.

The midday sun illuminated the room, its rays finding their way through the big windows behind the desk the Chief was sitting behind. He watched intently as she entered, curious as to what a young girl was doing there at a time like this. “Please, sit down. What may I help you with, miss?”

She did as she was told, sitting down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. It was uncomfortable, not meant to be sat on for a long time and Mary-Belle felt utterly unwelcome even though the Chief of Police gave her a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes though which were accentuated by the dark bags under them. She once again made use of the mask of confidence she put on at the palace. “Hello, sir. My name is Mary-Belle Heavensforth, daughter of Lord Aaron Heavensforth. I come to you regarding the case of a young man who is now in confinement. I may answer any question you have, but first, you should read these letters.” She handed them over, surprised at the fact that her hand was not shaking.

He broke the seal of the first letter quickly, scanning over the lines before he turned his attention to the second letter. He held one in each hand, his gaze darting from one to other, humming in acknowledgement. The content of the letters was unknown to Mary-Belle, so she had to assume her father only gave information he had known from her. He might have left out some details – the letter wasn’t long enough to have the whole story and the plea – so it was on her to fill in any information he might still need and to do anything it would take to get Billy out. “I see,” he said before he looked over the brim of the papers at her. “So, you believe this boy to be innocent.” She nodded. “Explain to me then what transpired and why you think we should let him go.” So, she gave him the story that Spike had told her, about the master at the workhouse, his history with Billy and his friends and what had happened the night Vic Collins died. “And were you there that night? Did you see it with your own eyes?”

She faltered. What was the best way to go about this? “I was not.” She chose to stick with the truth. “But,” she followed up, “I do know this boy. He would not consort to this kind of violence if he weren’t defending himself or the people he loved. And he would never kill someone with intent. In front of you, you have the testimonies of two highly educated and sophisticated men with power. They speak out for his release and vouch for him.” At least she hoped that this was what was written on those pages her father had sent with her. “I vouch for him as well even though my word might not mean much to you. I will see to it that such thing will not happen again and that you may not hear of him badly anymore.”

“It does say here that your father will see to it that the boy may be put under his supervision. I do believe that your father is a man of his word. I have not been proven to think any less of him yet.” The Chief put one of the letters down to scratch his beard in thought. “But I can’t just write you a release form for this boy out of nowhere.”

“My father had guessed you might say something like that, so he gave me this for you.” She reached into her pockets once again and pulled out one coin bag. She sat it on top of his desk, making sure the coins made a sound as she dumped it on top of his papers. He snatched it up immediately, opening it to look inside at the shiny coins.

“That is indeed a compelling argument,” he pondered. He weighed the bag in his hand eyeing the coins with great interest. “Alright, I will write a release form for this boy, but do have your father contact me again in a few days. I need to speak with him.”

“Of course.” She could barely suppress her smile. She did it! She actually did it! Billy would get out and not die by judge’s rule. She looked on as the Chief shouted for someone. The door swung open revealing a rather young-looking man. His hair was disheveled and he seemed to be just as busy as everyone else in the building.

“Please, show this young lady to our front area,” he addressed the man. Mary-Belle felt panic rush in. If he had just betrayed her, taken the money and the letters, she would have lost. She would have fought for Billy’s life without success and would have to leave him to his destiny. As much as she had thought about it, there was no other way. She would be back on the streets with no trumps up her sleeve and the impending death of a boy weighing down her heart. But, the Chief turned back towards her as she lifted herself off the chair. “I will have the letter brought to you shortly. Just wait down there and that boy will be free as soon as you get the letter to the according office. That is, if your father follows up with his promise that the boy will be put under his care. He will be responsible for the boy’s actions, so he better behave or it will be over with your father’s good standing.”

She recognized his words as they were. A threat. As easily as he could get Billy out of prison now, he could put him back and take her father down right beside him. “Yes, Sir!”

She had to wait in that front area for way too long. People passed. She watched the same people that would enter the building leave it again. A cycle that seemed to find no end and still no release letter in sight. The doubt crept in slowly again. He could just take the money and act like nothing ever happened. She would have nothing against him. And who would believe her? She had no such standing as he did. She was already thinking about how to break the news to Leo and Spike and their other friends. She wasn’t even able to do that. She was quite useless apparently. And replaceable. Leopold had shown it clearly. Each time it seemed so easy for him to leave her and just run off to his new friends and go on adventures with them. Compared to them she had nothing to offer, except for her love but even that he didn’t want.

When the letter finally arrived, given to her by the same man who had led her out of the office, she just took it without another word and left. He would probably not care enough to take the story of her rude behavior back to his superior. She had somewhere to be now and she didn’t care about other people’s opinions at the moment. She felt troubled enough, torn between her love for Leopold and the selfish wish of having him back at the palace with her, away from his new friends and the fact that they were nice people who did nothing wrong. They offered Leopold some form of family, something he couldn’t find at the palace. Something she apparently couldn’t compare to. And now one of them had his life on the line. No matter how she felt towards them she could not just let someone die who didn’t deserve it while knowing she could do something about it. And apparently, she could. Or rather her father could. For the first time ever, she realized how far connections and money could get someone. It opened doors and gave you leverage. She had always been amazed by her father. Now even more so. Even though she didn’t spend that much time with him, she’d always admired him, his hard work and how far it had gotten him.

The scene outside had changed since she had entered the building. Where before the streets seemed quite deserted and eerily quiet, there was now clamoring coming from every corner, frightened screams, angry yells, shocked cries. She dared a quick glance down the first alley she passed on her way to where Billy was held. Two men were rolling in the dirt, their shirts already speckled with blood that dripped from their respective faces. Dirt covered all their clothes as they held onto each other, throwing punches mindlessly. As long as they made contact, they seemed satisfied. She hurried to get away from there and stayed away from small alleys the rest of the way.

She was stopped right after entering the building. An arm shot out, followed by a body that moved in front of her. The burly man sneered at her. “This is no place for a little girl like you.”

She brushed over the comment, choosing to stay professional. “I am here on business,” she announced, handing over the letter from the Chief of Police. “I am to get a boy you are holding here.” He snatched the letter from her hand. He took a quick glance over the written words before he let out a groan. “Fine. Jackson,” he screamed into the room he had previously come out of, “get that orphan kid from the cell. We’re letting him go.” He didn’t seem pleased about it as he looked back at her. “You should be careful. He’s dangerous.”

“I am aware,” she answered nonchalantly before she pulled the second coin bag out of her pocket and put it into the hands of the officer. “For your troubles.” She smiled politely. His eyes narrowed onto the bag, intrigued by the weight in his hand. His demeanor changed drastically in a split second.

“Of course. It is our duty to be here for the people of London. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to work, but you will be brought to the boy shortly.” Mary-Belle refrained from rolling her eyes, but gave him a polite smile and nod instead. At least until his back was turned towards her. She doubted he would work now. He will probably go to sit down in private and count the coins in the bag.

Another man appeared in the door. “Please, follow me. He is being held in the back.” The smile on this man’s face seemed way more genuine than the old man’s. He couldn’t be more than a few years older than her. He led her down the narrow hall and down some stairs into a gloomy basement that held the cell. It was packed to the brim with all different kinds of people. She couldn’t find Billy at first glance, the many bodies obstructing her view. The man, Jackson, walked over to the guard by the door telling him what was about to happen. His eyes wandered over to her figure shortly before looking back at Jackson and narrowing his eyes. It took him some more talking to before he turned around and focused his gaze on someone. “You, orphan boy,” he called out catching the blonde’s attention, “you’re free to go.” The barred door rattled as it was pushed open. The surprise on Billy’s face was obvious as he stepped out of the cell. “You have that lady over to thank.” The guard gestured over to you.

A look of confusion washed over Billy’s face as he saw Mary-Belle standing at the bottom of the stairs. He never expected to see her there, especially not to get him out of jail. He was too shocked to say anything as he neared her. Mary-Belle quickly grew tired of his non-reaction. She grabbed his wrist and led him out of the shabby cellar and out onto the street where the people were still clamoring and screaming at each other. A different picture than what she was used to seeing in the streets of London.

Billy got ahold of himself quickly after they made it outside. The fresh air helped him focus his thoughts. As soon as they got to the street, he jerked his hand out of her hold, making her turn to look at him expectantly, eyebrows raised and hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”, he asked, still in that tone like he hated her guts and was spitting accusations.

“You know, you should be nicer to the person who got you out of a trial that would most definitely have ended in your death.” That shut him up, at least momentarily, but he also did not deem it necessary to thank her. He glared at her for another moment before he left her standing there. She watched after him in bewilderment at his audacity. But Billy rethought his decision when he saw at least five people in a fistfight happening over a dead body. It was already worse than he had thought. He walked back over to her, grabbed her wrist like she had his before and dragged her along with him, past the fighting people.

“We are supposed to meet Spike at Baker Street 221B,” she told him after they had walked in silence for a minute. Billy wondered shortly how she came to know this, what happened while he had been in that cell that now this girl he barely knew got him out of his certain doom, but he kept quiet and led her to Baker Street 221B.

They were the last to arrive. The whole group was already present. Bea and Spike were happy to see Billy out as a free man and greeted him happily, enclosing him in hugs. They thanked Mary-Belle for her help before they turned their attention back to him. When the three of them and Leo moved to the other room, she didn’t know whether to follow them or leave. Eventually, she took some steps to follow them but stopped in the doorway. There, in the room, a dark-haired girl was lying unconsciously on the sofa with the others gathered around her. It seemed an intimate situation that she didn’t want to intrude on, so she made the decision to leave them now. She had done her part and was not needed anymore.

A tall man walked towards the room the teenagers were gathered in when Mary-Belle was about to open the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her. His gaze followed her arm to the door handle. “You shouldn’t go out there now,” he advised. Joyful sounds came from the adjacent room. The girl must have woken up. “Come with me,” he ordered and so, she followed him back to the room.

The girl that had been previously unconscious was sitting upright on the sofa now and told this man about a place they needed to go to. He nodded sternly and told the boys to follow him, leaving Mary-Belle alone with the two girls. She felt entirely out of place and didn’t know what to say or do. She couldn’t even look at them, so she walked over to the window and looked outside while the other two were speaking in hushed voices among themselves.

Outside was a mess, people running around, swinging weapons of all sorts, handmade, bought or just using whatever was available to hurt others. Just outside the window she was looking on as a man bashed in the skull of another, his teeth fletched. He even seemed to be growling at the man who was lying at his feet, blood flowing out of his fatal wound, coloring the sidewalk a dark red. Mary-Belle covered her mouth with a shaky hand at the barbaric act that had occurred in front of her eyes. And when the man looked up, his crazy eyes staring right into hers she let out a gasp and took a step back. She had seen pure rage in his eyes, no clear thoughts, just the urge to hurt and kill.

Her eyes were still fixed on the curtain. It had fallen back into place but she still had the image of the open skull and the look in the man’s eyes on her mind as if she was still staring at it. A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Her gaze travelled to the person who sat her down on a chair far away from the window. She was still shaking. It was Billy whose place was quickly taken by Leo. He had looked out the window to see what had left you in this state. The crazy man was gone, but the body was still lying there on the sidewalk. Leo kneeled down by her side. His hand rested on her knee as he talked to her reassuringly. Her breathing calmed after a short while as the others looked on. She found words to answer Leo’s worried questions in a quiet voice.

As it was clear that she would be fine the other’s attention shifted. Beatrice and Jessie shared a look that had a clear meaning. They had to go. Now. Beatrice announced it to the group that immediately moved to the entrance. Bea stayed back a moment longer with Leo and Mary-Belle. “She’s coming with us!”, Leo insisted, looking up at Bea from his kneeling position.

The girl did not have the time to argue with him right now. They were in a hurry, so she agreed. “As long as she doesn’t get in the way.

“I won’t,” Mary-Belle promised and stood up to join the rest of the group.

When they left the building, warned by Watson to stay together, she threw a glance in the direction of the window she had been standing in. The body looked different now. Pieces of the skull and brain were scattered around it. Bile rose up in her throat, but she forced herself to look away and keep moving. She promised not to be in the way and so she wouldn’t. And she wouldn’t slow them down either. She hiked up her skirt – which was a very inconvenient choice of clothing for the occasion – and hurried after the others.

She was filled in about the whole situation by Leo on the way. To say she was shocked would be an understatement. “I thought you said you’d be safe!”, she exclaimed in frustration and anger. “That is not ‘being safe’! It’s like the opposite of safe. We are literally running towards the danger!”

“The danger is all around us!”, he retaliated. “We have to stop this! We’re the only ones that can because we know what is happening.”

They came to a stop in front of the entrance to Aldgate Station. Watson tried to open the door, unsuccessfully. It was jammed. It only took him a moment to come up with a different plan. He showed them another entrance, through the sewers. All of them stood around the hole looking down into the dark. Even though it was the only way to get to the Linen Man and Sherlock, a shudder crept down Mary-Belle’s spine at the thought of going down there.

Billy nudged Spike to tell him to go first, but he refused. There was another moment where none of them moved a muscle but then Mary-Belle heard distant noises which made her overcome her fears for a moment and announced, “Then I’ll go first!” She quickly climbed down before she could change her mind again but the growling and yelps coming from up there just helped to reassure her in her decision. Her skirt tore on the way down. She didn’t complain though as it gave her more freedom to move although it was a bad day to have worn one of her favorite dresses.

Surprisingly, the sewers were lit well enough to see without any additional gadgets. It only took Mary-Belle a moment to get used to the dim lighting. By the time she was able to see completely fine, the others have found their way down. Watson instructed them to stay together and to be quiet. It would be over for them if the Linen Man knew they were there. In moments like this Mary-Belle regretted tagging along. She was pretty certain she would die today. How could a bunch of teenagers save the world? Especially from some supernatural Rip that’s threatening to absorb this world? She still didn’t quite get what was actually happening. It was all a bit hard to wrap her mind around.

She kept close to Watson while moving through the tunnel. Sticking close to the only adult seemed like the most reasonable decision. He gave the impression he knew what he was doing which made her feel a little safer.

Nobody noticed the moment Beatrice stopped moving with them. Only when she cried out in agony they realized and quickly rushed back to her. Panic washed over Mary-Belle as she remembered the words Watson said about what would happen if the Linen Man found out they were there. Watson covered her mouth to stop her screams, hoping against all hope that the Linen Man and Sherlock hadn’t heard them yet and thus knew that they were close.

They started moving again after Beatrice had calmed down. It hadn’t taken long but time was precious now. With every second passing the world was closer to its end. Mary-Belle still remained close to Watson while she kept stealing glances at Beatrice to gather whether she would be alright. Every single sound had her on edge.

That the boys were not behind them anymore was suddenly realized when they started crying out. Beatrice did as well, clutching her head and sinking towards the ground. Tears were streaming over her face and she mumbled, “No, no, don’t go! Mum! Mum!” Mary-Belle tore her gaze away from Beatrice when gunshots were fired right next to her. The loud sound left her ear ringing. She only saw a flash of white before it was gone, scared away by Watson’s gun. Jessica ran after it and left them to deal with Beatrice who would not calm down.

The boys’ cries could still be heard as well, Leo’s standing out to Mary-Belle the most. She couldn’t bear hearing that and doing nothing, so she ran towards him. Watson shouted her name after her, telling her to not walk off alone, but she didn’t listen. If he didn’t have to take care of Beatrice, he would’ve gotten up to stop her, but he couldn’t leave the crying girl on the ground alone there.

Mary-Belle ran back down the path they had taken, following his outcries, she quickly found Leopold. He was sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest and his head between his hands. He screams and cries out. Each cry tore more at her chest. He removed his hands from his ears to stare at them as if he could see something on them that she didn’t. She dropped down next to him and tried to talk him out of it like he did with her back at Baker Street, but she couldn’t get through to him, so she just sat there, quiet tears rolling down her face at seeing the boy she loved in this state.

And then it stopped. From one moment to the next, his screams quieted down. He looked up from the ground and towards her in confusion, not grasping what had just happened. Relief flooded her system as she threw her arms around him. It took a moment, but then he returned the hug, desperately holding on to her.

Billy’s voice called out to Leo prompting them to let go off each other. He appeared in front of them seconds after and helped Leo off the ground who in turn helped Mary-Belle. His movements were still slow and staggered like he didn’t quite have a grasp on reality. Billy then called out to Spike who called back immediately. The three of them moved towards where his voice was coming from, finding him on the ground as well. He was already back on his feet when they came to a stop by his side. They made sure he was unharmed, physically at least, before continuing on the way they had gone before this happened, hoping to reunite with Beatrice, Watson and Jessica.

When Beatrice and Watson were already in sight, just down the tunnel, the earth began to rumble, debris falling down, dust collecting on their heads and clothes. Leopold pulled Mary-Belle back before the ceiling of the tunnel collapsed in front of them, separating them from Beatrice and Watson.

When most of the dust settled and she could see clearly again she saw Billy lying on the ground. His leg was pinned under two big stoned and he knew that it was wrecked. “Billy! Leo!”, Beatrice shouted from the other side of the rubble as Leo and Spike helped Billy up. He couldn’t put weight on the leg without crying out in pain, so Spike supported him. They let Beatrice know that his leg was probably broken.

A short argument broke out since Beatrice wanted them to go back to the cellar but Billy refused to leave them. “Be reasonable, Billy,” Mary-Belle chimed in. “The tunnels aren’t safe and you wouldn’t be of much help anyway with your leg. You should rest before it will get even worse,” she argued.

Billy was about to retort when Beatrice spoke up again. “Listen to her, Billy!” She sounded desperate. “And promise me… Promise me that you’ll keep each other safe.” Silence overcame them for a moment as they thought about what they were going to do before Spike agreed and gave her the promise. Leo followed suit. For Billy to agree it took some more demands from Beatrice. Her voice still sounded strong despite her desperation and in that moment Mary-Belle realized what Leopold saw in her. “Mary-Belle?” Beatrice called out to her as well, this time a bit calmer. “Will you promise me, too?” She was surprised that Beatrice wanted her to give the promise as well. After all, she was not a part of their group.

“Of course,” she replied nonetheless, never having thought of doing anything other. “I promise.” With those promises made they went on their way, Leopold going to Billy’s other side to support him as well. Mary-Belle walked behind them. Still feeling uneasy, she kept throwing glances over her shoulder like something would appear there at any moment. Thankfully, it didn’t and they made it out of the sewers without any more incidents.

“Mary-Belle, here, take over!”, Spike instructed you, so that he could move in front of them to protect them. She took his place at Billy’s side. He slung his arm over her shoulder begrudgingly. He didn’t have much of a choice now about who would help him move. He just needed to get home and off the streets, so he would have to get used to the idea of Mary-Belle supporting him on the way.

The streets were ruthless. Never had she seen anything like this. The people had turned crazy. The ones that hadn’t either fell victim to the ones that had or hid out in their homes behind barred doors and windows. Having to basically carry Billy through the streets slowed them down immensely. Each time they came upon someone she tensed but kept moving in the strong believe that when it came to it, Spike would protect them. Most of the time they were ignored though. Maybe they were not interesting enough for those who found liking in eating someone’s intestines. The things Mary-Belle had already seen today were nightmare material for the rest of her life, but she doubted that it would be all. The day wasn’t over yet, the world hadn’t ended yet. There was still time to be traumatized even more.

With each step Billy hissed in pain. He tried his hardest not to scream but some steps were even worse than the ones before and he couldn’t stop the screams that escaped him.

The sight of the ‘Duck and Quiver’ sign was a relief. They had made it. Mary-Belle was out of breath. Her body was hurting from having to haul Billy all the way through the city but she did not dare compare it to the pain he must be feeling. He had to sit down for a moment on the stairs across the street from the pub, groaning and hissing. They had tried to stabilize his leg. It didn’t do much but was probably better than just leaving it without.

“Watson was right,” said Leo, “the city’s turning. With the Rip the way it is every time someone prays for help or wishes, that’s all it takes now.”

“We should’ve stayed and found a way through. We’re useless here,” added Billy.

“You would have been useless there, too,” Mary-Belle remarked, growing tired of his behavior. “I mean, look at you. You can barely stand. What would you have done there? Going back was the best option whether you choose to believe it or not.”

“You-“ Billy’s answer was cut short as what looked like blue lightning soared through the sky. It rumbled, crackled and sissed as it came down from the sky and connected with the building that held the pub. Blue lines danced along the walls as the magic – there was no other way Mary-Belle could describe it – made its way into the building.

“Jessie still hasn’t closed the Rip,” observed Leo. “It’s nearly over. It could be too late now.”

Spike rushed them to get moving again, so that they could find shelter in the cellar and hope for the best. Mary-Belle moved back to Billy’s side and helped him get up as Leo took his other side. They stopped again shortly after as terrified screams came towards them and a bunch of people came running from behind the corner, a weapon-swinging attacker after them. They tried to stop him as he had a nun cornered against her door but without any luck.

Spike didn’t hesitate as he lunged forward and knocked him out with his rifle. The man fell to the ground having lost his consciousness. Spike was rather excited about the fact that he succeeded in taking him down. “I rifled him! I rifled him!”, he announced in disbelief. Leo, Billy and Mary-Belle moved over to him as he helped up the nun who had been cowering on the ground. She told them how the man came after them in the church. She was desperate as she told them that they had nowhere to go. Billy immediately offered that they could come with them and so, they made their way to the cellar together.

Mary-Belle let out a sigh of relief when Spike closed the door behind them and barred it. With walls surrounding them she felt a lot safer than out on the street. They set Billy down on a chair. Without him weighing down on her she stood up straight again and rolled her shoulders to get at least some of the tension out. It barely worked. The stress and anxiety just made her more tense. No rolling her shoulders would help with that.

Sister Anna, as Mary-Belle had found out the nun was called, moved to the back of the cellar with the other two they had taken in while Billy, Spike, Leo and Mary-Belle stayed more in the front. She went to stand with Leo. “How are you feeling?”, she asked.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. That was close back there. You do realize you were almost crushed back then, don’t you?” His gaze was fixed on her, worry in his eyes.

“Don’t turn this on me now,” she scolded. “I asked how you were doing. I am fine, thanks to you, but the Linen Man got into your mind. What did you see? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I- There was blood, so much blood. I-I don’t know. I thought I was about to die.” His eyes glazed over as he thought back on the visions he had. “I was all alone and I thought I was dying.” He didn’t say anything else, stuck on that feeling. Mary-Belle wrapped him into another hug bringing him back into the moment. “Thank you!” He smiled at her softly before his gaze moved over to Billy who was breathing heavily from the extortion that getting to the cellar had been for him. “How did you get Billy out of jail anyway?” She recalled the story for him, stressing that it wouldn’t have been possible if she had done it without her father’s help. “How did he take the condition that he would be under your father’s supervision?”

“I didn’t tell him yet,” she admitted, avoiding the reproachful look he gave her. “How am I supposed to tell him? I can barely be near him without him hating every moment. That doesn’t really make me enjoy his company either. He hates me. I’m sure of it.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Leo argued. “That’s how he was with me at first as well. Now we’re friends. New people are not really his thing, I guess, especially rich ones.”

“Leo’s right.” Mary-Belle jumped at Spike’s sudden appearance by her side. “It may be hard to believe for you, but Billy is actually quite nice and a good friend. He cares. More than he admits himself sometimes. And I bet he doesn’t hate you. You two just got off on the wrong foot.”

“So, you’re saying…”

“You should talk to him.” Spike and Leopold both rolled their eyes at the groan she let out. They kept looking at her expectantly as she waited to see who would give in first.

“Ugh, fine.” She was the first to break. She turned towards Billy and even got a little shove from Spike to get her to move. She shot a sour glance at him over her shoulder but went to sit down next to Billy. He looked up from what he was doing to focus on her. She couldn’t quite decipher the way he was looking at her. It might be hatred, might be intrigue, might be disgust.

“What are you doing?” He asked after she did not speak up after sitting down.

“I just wanted to sit,” she replied but she could feel Spike and Leo watching her, their gazes boring into her and giving her the motivation to talk a little more. “How are you feeling?”

“Still think we should’ve stayed, should’ve been there for Bea and Jess,” he grumbled.

“Look,” she tried to explain once again, “I told you. With your leg like that, you can barely move. Just getting here already took such a strain on you. If it had come down to it, if we had to get out of there quickly, you would’ve held everyone back. You can’t do much with your leg like that. And if we hadn’t come here, who knows what would’ve happened to Sister Anna. It was the most reasonable decision. I am sure, Beatrice thought the same. Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t have sent you back. She wanted you to stay safe and I bet she won’t let herself get hurt either. You will all be together again.”

He considered her for a moment. “I guess,” he agreed begrudgingly. They sat in silence for another minute or two. Both of them looking anywhere but at each other. “Thank you,” he finally mumbled. At her confused gaze he groaned once more. “For getting me out of the trial, I mean. You’re right. If they had gone through with it, it would have ended with my death sentence, so thank you. I appreciate it.”

“How about we start over?”, she proposed, turning so she could properly face him.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Start over.” She paused for a second before giving him a bright smile and extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mary-Belle.” Throwing all the things she had learned about etiquette out the window she introduced herself with only her first name.

Billy seemed surprised at that. He looked thoughtfully at her outstretched hand before he grasped it. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he pressed her hand gently. “Billy. The pleasure’s all mine.” He laughed a little as he let go of her hand. It brought a genuine smile to her face as she chuckled along. “So,” Billy stated. His gaze was on Leo and Spike who were looking over in a manner that was not very inconspicuous, “do they think I would murder you or is there another reason they are watching us this intently?”

She followed his gaze. The two boys weren’t bothered by the fact that their attention was now on them. “They might. Or they think I would you. We do not have the best history after all.”

“You’re different from what I thought,” Billy admitted which took her by surprise.

“Elaborate.”

“Do I have to?” His eyes found hers again. A teasing smile adorned his lips.

“You do,” she insisted.

“I guess, we met you at a time I was also very suspicious of Leo. For good reason, I might add. He lied to us. I have forgiven him for that, don’t worry,” he added after he saw the look that she gave him before he continued, “But my experiences with nobility hadn’t been very good. I didn’t trust him, so I wouldn’t trust you either. I was rude and I scared you. I’m sorry about that. I thought you’d be just like the others who are well-off, up-tight with a stick up your arse and thinking you are better than everyone else, especially those living like we do. But you are… not like that.” He didn’t explain any further.

“I take that as a compliment, so thank you. You’re not as much of a rowdy as I thought you were.” She squeezed his shoulder as she got up as a way to end the conversation, before she walked over to Leo and Spike.

“He seemed to have taken the news well,” noticed Leo.

She just sighed, hanging her head in shame. “I couldn’t do it. We got along for once and I didn’t want to destroy that right after.”

“You have to tell him at some point.”

“I know. Let’s just survive the night first and then I will tell him. I promise.”

They were shaken out of their conversation when a rattling sounded from the door. Someone was trying to get in. They came together at the bottom of the stairs, ready to defend the cellar. Somehow, Mary-Belle ended up next to Billy who noticed the way she watched the rattling door. Each of them grabbed a weapon. Billy handed her one as well. “Scared?”, he asked.

“Of course. Unlike you apparently, I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“I’m scared, too,” he admitted quietly before chaos reigned down upon them. Surprisingly it didn’t come the way they expected with the door splintering and bloodthirsty people storming in but with the Sister finishing a prayer. They hadn’t been able to stop her from saying that last faithful word. They barely moved fast enough to watch her turn. Her eyes turned black, no light shining in them, no life, no recognition. The dark lines crawling over her skin made her look monstrous, inhuman. But even as her appearance had changed into something not quite human, her voice remained calm as she spoke to the two who were kneeling in front of her and had been praying with her. They too were overcome with the magic of the Rip, not moving away from her, not screaming as she broke their necks.

She then turned her attention to the four of them, calling them heathens as she neared. Her skin was pale, a stark contrast to the dark veins and her black eyes. Mary-Belle was terrified. The feeling only deepening when the bullet Spike shot at her did her no harm. Mary-Belle was pulled back and down some stairs until she moved on her own. Leo supported Billy again as they ran from the cold-hearted monster that had once been a loving person filling people’s hearts with warmth. Spike stopped to reload his rifle. Even if the bullet might not do damage, it might slow her down. But before he was able to target her, she grabbed the rifle out of his hand and threw it to the ground. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt and threw him into a corner. He didn’t move or make a sound, worrying his friends. Mary-Belle could just watch, frozen in place, as Billy attacked the monster. She flinched with every punch and kick he got before he too was thrown across the room. His body slid on the ground until his head bumped against the wall and he fell unconscious.

Her feet were frozen. No matter how much she willed them to move they wouldn’t. She stood there and watched as the monster came towards her. In the corner of her eye she still saw Leo trying to get between her and the monster before she felt her hands on her, felt a dull pain and everything went black.

She came back to when her body was shaken. Slowly opening her eyes while trying to ignore the searing pain behind them she saw Leo towering over her. The worry on his face changed into relief when her eyes found his. She groaned as she sat up, holding her pounding head. Leo helped her up, holding onto her arms tightly. “It’s over!”, he explained. “It’s over! Jessie must have closed the Rip!” She felt great relief as she clung onto Leo.

“Is Spike alright?”, she asked after pulling away from him.

“Am fine, love,” the boy called over having heard her ask the question. Her face lit up as she realized that he was indeed alright. She rushed over and gave him a hug as well, surprising him, but he didn’t complain. Near-death experiences did bring people closer together. Either way, she had always liked the charismatic boy. In her mind they were friends. In his, too. She just didn’t know.

“And you?”, she asked Billy who was sitting down again. The fight could not have been good for his broken leg.

“Not much worse than before,” he answered honestly. Apart from the throbbing in his head, his leg gave him the greatest pain, but it had done that before, too. She nodded at that. They were well and alive and the world wouldn’t end today. She looked around the cellar once more, noticing the absence of the Sister and the bodies. They must have already taken them out while she was unconscious.

“I should probably go, then,” she started, but was stopped by Billy.

“You should at least wait until Bea and Jessie come back and tell us what happened. You deserve to hear the story, too.” The other two boys agreed. It didn’t take much convincing to get her to stay a little longer. They sat in silence, much needed after everything that had happened. It was interrupted after a while by the door opening. Steps made their way down into the cellar. The two girls appeared, covered in dirt with sad looks on their faces that were replaced by happy and relieved ones at the sight of everyone being there.

Mary-Belle watched the way Leopold and Beatrice looked at each other as they got closer and enveloped each other in a hug. It was adoring, loving, in a way Leopold had never looked at her, but she understood now. Understood how she could never compare to Beatrice who was so adventurous and brave. More hugs were exchanged while Mary-Belle just sat there and watched on. There was a short moment Beatrice and her held eye-contact. The black-haired girl nodded at Mary-Belle as a sign of respect and as a thank you for keeping the promise she had made. She couldn’t justify not liking Beatrice anymore after today, but she didn’t know if that made it harder or easier to let go of her feelings for Leo.

She stayed seated as the girls found their own seats and the boys went back to theirs before they started telling what had transpired. Jessie filled them in about her mind battle with the Linen Man and together they told them about their mother who had appeared from the Rip. It was a heart-wrenching story. Mary-Belle’s eyes filled with tears that she didn’t want to let fall in front of the others but the story and the expression on the sisters’ faces made it hard. She admired them even more now. Having to make such a decision wasn’t an easy weight to bear and then having to live with it.

Soon after everyone filled the others in on what they had experienced the groups dispersed. Mary-Belle took that as her cue. There was just one more thing she needed to do before she left them. She walked over to Leo and Beatrice, hesitant to interrupt their conversation but doing it anyways to get it over with. “Excuse me,” she butted in, “Leo, can I talk with you outside for a moment?” His gaze fluttered over to Beatrice who agreed silently before the both of them climbed out of the cellar and onto the street that had already gone back to some sort of normalcy. People were bustling around, going after their business, others were in charge of picking up the dead bodies and cleaning up after them.

They came to stop a short way away from the cellar when Mary-Belle turned to face him. “What are you going to do now, Leo? Are you going to return to the palace? What is your plan?”

“I… would like to stay here. These are my friends and I belong here, not in the palace,” he announced.

She nodded, a sad smile on her face. “I understand, but I’m certain the Queen will have people looking for you when she notices that you are missing. You can’t stay away from your responsibilities forever.”

He let out a desperate sigh. “I know, but… I want to enjoy this time for as long as I can.” She nodded and squeezed his arm briefly before she watched him descend into the cellar again to live this life for a bit longer.

She turned to walk away, home, back to a life so unlike the one Leo chose to live, but she didn’t get very far before she was stopped by a hand hesitantly reaching out to her. Jessica stood there. She quickly retrieved her arm after gaining Mary-Belle’s attention. “We were actually going to get fish and chips later. You, um, you should eat with us. After all, you’ve helped us.”

“I didn’t really do anything actually. I was probably just in the way most of the time, but thank you. You guys should enjoy your evening by yourselves.”

She wanted to walk away again, but Jessica spoke up once more to stop her. “That’s not true! If anything, you got Billy out of jail! The others told me. You didn’t have to do that. You barely know us, but you did! Please, I would really like it if you would eat with us.”

In the end, Jessica had convinced Mary-Belle and when they were all sitting together that evening eating fish and chips she felt content and happy. Looking around at their smiling and laughing faces she could understand how Leo found his family in this group of people.

She caught the expression on Billy’s face when Leo and Beatrice walked past him to get up to the street. It was a sour one, full of jealousy. So, she walked over and sat down next to him. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”, she noticed quietly, following their retreating figures with her eyes until they disappeared outside and closed the door behind them.

Billy’s head whipped around to eye her suspiciously. “What would you know about it?”, he asked.

“Well.” She let out a sigh. “I’m in love with him,” she revealed, “so, I guess we’re in the same boat.” The two of them shared a mutual understanding that the people they loved, loved them too, but not in the same way.

“Should we do something about it, then?”, Billy asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What are you thinking of?”, Mary-Belle asked with a smile, before Billy grabbed her face and pulled her close. His lips hovered over hers for a moment, enough time for her to pull away if she wanted too, and then he kissed her. A gasp sounded which pulled the two apart. As they looked over to the source of the sound, they found Spike staring at them, his hand dramatically on his chest which made them all laugh. Billy threw a chip at Spike to get him to stop with his antics. He had a carefree smile on his face again. Even as he looked over at Mary-Belle, which he used to do with such a dark gaze, it didn’t falter and maybe, she thought, she could find her place here as well.

[softysuho]

pretty boy & zombies

pairing: yunho x reader

summary: In the year 3013, the government unleashed their first wave of "natural selection". They took out elderly by offering a vaccine that was told to prevent further sicknesses and stated that it was mandatory. After the elderly were wiped from the earth, phase two was put into action. There they unleashed a monster. The government started the zombie apocalypse in hopes that the elite human race would show itself.

word count: 1.9k (a/n its been awhile and this is lowkey shit, I also can't figure out how to put "keep reading" in with the new Tumblr update, but I hope you all enjoy this drabble💖)

It was day like every other day, humid and way too hot for any sort of physical activity. The small house you sit in does little to keep the warm weather out, it was a cute place from what was left. There had been an old couple in here prior, from what you gathered. They looked cute and happy in the photos that were scattered across the walls. Most of the food leftover had gone bad, but they did have a decent amount of medical supplies. 

You sighed as you thought back to your home, your parents and your little baby sister. It was hard to keep track of the days you have been without your family, four or five months maybe. Your college days were long behind you now, no more parties, no more all nighters doing homework. Everything had been taken from you. 

On an average day supply run, you can still see the tall billboards, promising a better future. The face of the man who decided to play God and Mother Nature. What bullshit. You wondered if he is dead now, if the zombies got to him like they did to everyone else in the towns. 

One could only hope. 

As for other survivors out there, you know that there are some sharing the near city with you. One day stores could have shelves of food and the next day there seems to be half. Although you haven’t crossed paths with any. Who knows if they would be friendly. 

Maybe they’d put you out of your misery. 

Most days that sounded nice. To be able to join your family in the afterlife. Somedays you knew you didn’t want to die, the fear of what comes next after death chilled your bones. You certainly don’t want to feast off human guts and brains for the next eternity. What if the undead are still the people they were before? Maybe they can only watch themselves turn into a monster.  

As you were running low on filling meals, left with light snacks, you decided it was best to into the deeper parts of the city. It was risky, considering it used to be the most populated, but desperate times come to desperate measures.

You grabbed your gear and your sharp machete and adjusted your makeshift armor straps before taking off. Staying low in the tree was one of the safer moves, taking the longest way into the city in hopes of avoiding hordes. The nature was a beautiful sight, the refreshing smell of pine and the distant trickling of water. Normally it'd be calming if you didn't have to fear the undead lurking.

You wondered if nature would begin to go back in time, before the greedy human fingers that destroyed their beauty. However, you wondered if there would be any animal left once the zombies come and eat them as well. One could only hope they'll be okay.

As the trees began to thin out, you could see the city that used to home to many. The streets were covered in half eaten corpses, trash from the chaos and blood. In the beginning, this sight had you emptying your stomach in a near by bush, 10 deep breaths and one 'you can do this'. These days though, it was just the normal sight you'd become accustomed to.

Normally, these trips would be to the same grocery store you've been too for the last few months. You knew these roads now, and every nook and cranny on the way there. But today was different. You were tired of looking like you just crawled out of an old ladies closet, no offense to her. So you decided to head towards one of the stores with both clothing and food. Hopefully you'd find a new blanket to take as well.

There was a light pep in your step as you made your way there, a small amount of excitement you haven't felt in a long time at the thought of some new clothes. You wondered what else there would be there besides what you need and that thought was fun to think about. So similar to what would've went through your head before the destruction of humanity.

You stuck close to the walls of the tall buildings, trying to be as quiet as you could. You couldn't afford to risk being caught now, out in the open by the dead before you even had a chance to see how bad the rest of the city really was.

What you didn't realize, though, was how lost you were in your thoughts. You inched closer to that dark alleyway you would've avoided originally, one that could hide several lurking bodies within.

It was too late by then, a large and warm hand covered your mouth as an arm wrapped itself around your torso. Alarm bells were going off in your head, slowly realizing that you had to escape before you met your doom. Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes, praying to whatever was out there to let you live for another day.

"Would you shut up? I'd rather not regret saving your ass." It was a harsh whisper against your ear, but it did its job as you calmed in the unknown (hopefully) humans arms. "You were being followed." This time the voice was soft, hand finally falling away from your mouth to pull you closer and further into the darkness.

Only then did you notice the scuffing of feet and deep voices. You could tell they weren't far, and they clearly would've seen you walking alone at some point. A thousand 'thank yous' raced through your head towards the person behind you and you could only hope they could feel how thankful you were. You turned to look towards the stranger, only seeing that is was a male who was taller than you. Or at least, thats what you assumed.

The two of you stayed within the alleyways darkness even after the group walked past and out of ear shot. You heard a breath of relief behind you, followed by a brief brush of shoulders. As the man peered out from the darkness, you saw the messy mop of black hair and a quarter of his face. Inching closer to the man, your eyes popped over his shoulder and scanned for any signs of movement. When you both deemed it safe, he motioned you with his fingers and brought you in the opposite direction of the group.

"The hell were you doing out in the open like that?" He said above a whisper. However you were shocked by the way his eyes sparkled in the sunlight, simply managing a small shrug. He rolled his eyes at you in response, "I'm Yunho.. I've been living in that upscale apartment complex a ways down for about a month, and I swear I've seen everyone who is left around here. You're new?"

You scoffed lowly and looked over your shoulder. Why was he telling you this? Did he want to take you back and murder you for supplies? "I've been living in the woods, there was a farm a little ways out and I've only stuck to the store on that side of town."

Yunho hummed, seemingly lost in thought. He didn't seemed too beat up for being out here alone, not like you at least. There were scratches on your arms from shrubbery as well as old blood from a run in with the dead. Yunho was handsome and from the glimpses of his smile, you could tell it was bright.

You had been walking side by side for awhile now, going into the town deeper than you ever had been. The building were getting taller, more expensive and grand. First floor windows were either boarded up or broken, probably either hiding or stealing. You could picture the busy streets, the high class fashion of the upper working class.

"If you've been here for a month, how come you haven't tried to make friends?" You said softly, looking up at Yunho curiously.

"I had ran into the leader about two weeks ago," He scratched his head, looking from side to side while he kept an eye out. "It was fine at first, we made small talk in one of the stores." Yunho pointed behind him and rolled his eyes, "Somewhere back there, I don't remember. We talked for awhile before one of his buddies came in and claimed he could see a bite mark.. All hell broke out after, but I snuck out the back."

You rose your brows and patted him on the shoulder. "His buddy sounds like a real winner."

When you reached the building, you were pretty amazed at the shape it was left in. There was only one window that was broken, leaving the rest of them untouched. "I don't think anyone attempted to stay here so it was pretty much abandoned." Yunho smirked to himself and took a deep breath before he opened the front doors. "After you, ma'am." He bowed and gestured for you to take a step indoors. You gaped at the interior, if you thought hard enough you could see this place lit up and running as it should. The fountain glowing as the clear water fell into each bowl, grand chandeliers brightening the room. Your face was stuck, awestruck with a small smile. You wished you could've saw everything work in action or had the opportunity to stay a night here with room service.

"Woah.." You whispered when an arm was thrown around your shoulder.

"Wanna go room hunting with me? I've only been to the first five floors." Yunho whispered back as, he too, studied the hotel lobby. Pursing your lips, you shrugged and looked up at Yunho. Studying his features for a few brief moments. He was, indeed, very handsome.

Yunho watched you from the corner of his eye, his lips twitching into a smile. As fast as he could, Yunho turned his whole head to catch you in the act. The smile turning into a giant smirk. "See something you like?" He spoke first, head cocking to the side. "It's okay, I see something I like as well." A wink was sent your way, causing a blush to cover your features.

"Shut up," You joked, side eyeing him before your elbow met his ribs. He chuckled at you and took your hand to pull you to the stairs. "Find me some nice clothes and I'll reward you with a treat." Instead of your voice giving off a confident tone, it came out small and squeaky, leading your blush to darken a tenfold.

"Oh? And what is the treat? I think I should know before doing what I'm told."

"Guess it depends on how well you do."

After several hours of searching, jokes and excitement from not expired food, Yunho was able to come up with a nice sturdy set of blue jeans, a pair of leggings, some new combat boots, three shirts and one giant ass hoodie. He looked at you with wide and innocent eyes, silently asking you for his treat.

With a long sigh, you plopped yourself down on the couch and gestured him to come closer. As soon as he was within arms reach, you gripped his shirt and pulled him down on top of you. "Y/n.. you can't have my shirt." He said with a shit eating grin.

"Just shut up and kiss me."