#a genuine thanks to everyone who has ever treated me like i was worthless and expendable :):):)

[novadreii]

Me writing a scathing, data-supported email to the president of the company I work for demanding that everyone in my office gets double the raise they were offered to keep up with the absurd CPI increases the last 2 years PLUS asking for a bonus:

[ghostonly]

9 times out of 10, if someone accuses you of being ungrateful, it has nothing to do with you showing gratitude wrong and everything to do with them never wanting to help in the first place.

More often than not, "you're ungrateful," is literally just code for one of these:

"I did something for you because I felt obligated to and I now blame you for my past inability to set my own boundaries."

"I did something for you and expected you to do something of equal value for me immediately after, without ever stating that expectation, and you didn't hold up your end of the deal I decided we made."

"I did something for you because I felt morally obligated to and, because the entire situation you're in that caused me to feel that way wasn't immediately resolved by my act of charity, I've decided that you're actually doing this on purpose to extort people's time, energy, and resources."

"I did something for you because I'm a good person and you didn't adequately sing my praises and boost my ego to everyone we know, which is what any normal person would do if they were gifted with my invaluable services."

"I did something for you and expected you to do things for me in return, but your lower class and lack of resources means you have nothing of value to offer me in return, so you're therefore unable to pay your debts for my services, regardless of if you've wasted your time doing things for me that I deem worthless."

"I did something for you and expected this to mean undying loyalty and subservience, but you've dared to disagree with something I said, refuse one of my demands, or treat me as an equal when you needing my help made me superior."

So basically, if someone calls you ungrateful when you've actually put in an effort to show gratitude (like saying Thank You, expressing appreciation, etc.), they were never looking for gratitude to begin with. They're simply using gratitude as a way of making their sour feelings your fault when what they're actually upset about is that their attempt at insincere help didn't gain them anything.

In simpler terms: they're selfish.

People who genuinely care and genuinely want to help don't do so expecting something in return.

If someone wants something in return, they should state that right away, making the entire thing transactional and not an act of help, charity, or assistance.

The same goes for people who say you took advantage of them when you only accepted what was offered.

It is your responsibility, when you offer something (time, energy, money, resources), to make sure that what you're offering is something you actually want to share out of the goodness of your heart.

If you don't put down any boundaries regarding your offered help or resources, it is not the fault of the person you offered them to for not determining your boundaries for you.

[mimzy-writing-online]

You probably know this by now, I don't know if you keep up with Whumptober, but one of the prompts this year includes "blindness". I'm not blind but based on your posts about writing blind characters, and based on how I would feel if one of my disabilities were used as a whump prompt, I'm not super comfortable with it. I was wondering what your thoughts are on blindness being a Whumptober prompt.

(unironically and with feeling) thanks, I hate it.

Yes, I’m familiar with Whumptober, but I’ve never participated myself and I haven’t seen this year’s prompts.

Edit: I later did see the prompts and check out the blog. I think it's a good set of prompts and I look forward to all the promising content, especially since some of my favorite tropes are there. To be clear before you read this, I have no problem with Whumptober2021 or whump in general. This is not the first time blindness has been included for a list of whump prompts, and it won't be the last.

This post directed at the concept of "blindness" as a whump prompt and why I think it's a bad idea. The intended audience is individual writers thinking about future projects.

The timing of this is almost too perfect because I read a fanfic earlier this week that would meet that prompt exactly. Tags included whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. Now whump, hurt/comfort, and angst with a happy ending are tags I enjoy reading, but blindness as whump has a specific message to it.

To explain that message, I want to discuss what whump is. Many readers are already familiar with the genre, but I think taking the specific definitions and picking apart what it means and what expectations we carry when reading whump fanfiction

Urban Dictionary defines it as: taking a character and putting them through physical and/or mental torment and is typically followed by the same character being treated for their traumas. To indicate the characters place in the situation they’d typically be called a whumpee (the character being hurt/comforted), the whumper (the character that causes harm and trauma), and the caretaker (the character designated the helping/healing/comforting the whumpee).

Fanlore has a page for whump that explains it in depth, including where it started in fanfiction, examples of whump, and even a list of “popular targets” in different fandoms. (Warning: you might find yourself called out on the popular targets list)

“The term whump (or whumping) generally refers to a form of Hurt/Comfort that is heavy on the hurt and is often found in gen stories. The exact definition varies and has evolved over time. Essentially, whump involves taking a canon character, and placing them in physically painful or psychologically-damaging scenarios. Often this character is a fan favorite…”

To add to that, I think an important detail is the distinction Fanlore makes between hurt/comfort and whump:

“While some communities and fandoms may use whump as a synonym for hurt/comfort, there is still a recognition that whump refers to darker and more extreme scenarios. And there are still whump fics been written that have very little, or no comfort at the end of the story.”

The big appeal of hurt/comfort is getting to both explore the darker sides of pain and then experience the catharsis of being taken care of, of being supported by your loved ones as you recover from the trauma. The character is the proxy for experiencing those highs and lows while you yourself are safe at home.

I personally don’t read much/any whump without some h/c involved, but I’m happy there are stories out there for people who do enjoy it. I’m not here to judge what you like reading or what you do to your characters.

What I want is to express how blindness, my disability, used as a whump prompt personally makes me feel and what message it sends to me, to others, and how that message affects my daily life.

Whump undeniably involves watching a character suffer through something painful and traumatic.

My use of the word “suffer” is what I want you to focus on.

Vision loss can be painful and traumatic. I personally developed an anxiety disorder in response to vision loss. Others experience depression. For some it might result in relapsing into old, maladaptive coping mechanisms like drug use, self harm, or eating disorders.

A big part of my anxiety was how people reacted to my vision loss. It was a cause of their stress. They were worried because they genuinely believed I would never live a happy life without normal vision, and that my life would only be struggle and pain.

I recently saw an old friend who hadn’t heard about my vision loss. The conversation was awkward, but the worst part was how they reacted as though I had experienced an insurmountable tragedy. And even when I assured them I’m happy with my life, they clearly didn’t believe me. They acted like I was just lying or in denial.

I love that people want to empathize with my situation and ask themselves what they would do in my situation, but I hate when the conclusion they come to is something along the lines of “I could never do that, I’d be too miserable thinking about everything I lost, I’d never be able to do anything I enjoyed ever again.” But I did go blind. And I’m not miserable, I’m actually happy with the direction my life is going, and I still enjoy my hobbies, even if I engage with them differently.

I’m not suffering. My life didn’t end with vision loss. It’s not ruined, broken, or worthless.

I read a fanfic that was tagged with whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. A general synopsis of the plot: the whumpee had gone blind due to a curse. It was true love’s kiss that broke the curse. Even from the summary I knew it was going to end with whumpee being cured somehow and that I’d leave that fanfic vaguely dissatisfied no matter how good the rest of the fanfic was.

I can say this for the fanfic: the whumpee had already accepted that they would likely be blind for the rest of their life, but everyone around them was treating it as a tragedy that needed to be fixed, working tirelessly for a cure despite the whumpee’s protests that they didn’t have to.

It actually hit home to my personal experience.

I still left it dissatisfied with the ending. I might love curse fics in that fandom, and I love the “true love’s kiss” trope, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the fact that: an actual person out in the world thought the best happy ending, maybe the only happy ending, would be if the character got their sight back.

(note: I clicked kudos and exited out of the story's page because no fanfic writer deserves unsolicited critique or hate, especially for content I consumed for free and at my own volition.)

Why read a story I knew would disappoint me?

Because blindness representation is so damn rare that I feel like I’m wandering in a desert, dying from thirst and desperate for that oasis. But sometimes that oasis is a mirage and the author is unintentionally telling you that your life is actually awful and you’ll never be fully happy like this. And that is a shit mentality to walk through life with.

I don’t appreciate blindness being a whump plot. I hate it. Hundreds (thousands?) of fanfictions featuring blind characters are about to enter the internet and the overall message is going to be “You poor thing! You must be in so much pain, you must be miserable! Who’s going to save you? Who’s going to comfort you? Wouldn’t it be terrible if there was no one in your life to take care of you? You poor helpless thing!”

And I feel objectified. I feel trivialized. The mirage in the desert is going to become a starch, empty room filled with dozens of water bottles, almost all of them poisoned. My representation is going to hurt me personally, and it’s going to reinforce that idea strangers have about how awful my life must be.

(I returned to school this past month, and every day I’m hesitant to tell someone I’m visually impaired because I don’t want to be treated differently. If I’ve managed to pass as sighted this whole time and then suddenly reveal “oh yeah, I’m visually impaired” I feel this instant silence, this pause of awkwardness as people suddenly question how they’re supposed to treat me. They treated me like a person, and now I’m something strange and unfamiliar.)

I’ve worked so hard to improve representation for blind people, to give internet strangers the exposure to a blind person they need to normalize blindness because I hope that if they’re ever so lucky as to meet a blind person, they’ll treat that person with respect. That hope that another person in the blind community will find a friend they feel comfortable and accepted with. I hope that I’ll meet people who accept my blindness as just another aspect of me (like being bisexual or gender fluid or a writer or a cat lover).

Please don’t turn me and my community into a caricature. Don’t erase everything I’ve worked for with this blog.

To be clear, this is not just me saying "I hate the cure trope" again. This is me saying "the purpose of whump is to painfully hurt your favorite character, and I hate that your idea of pain and suffering is my daily (wonderful) life."

[balaroo]

Why did Bakugou see Deku as worthless?

Short answer: He didn’t.

“But doesn’t ‘Deku’ literally mean useless?! Of course Bakugou thought he was a quirkless loser!” I hear you cry but please give my rushed analysis a chance and see if I can convince you of something real quick.

This is mainly focusing on their relationship in the earlier manga but there will be references to newer chapters so spoilers if you’re not caught up!

I’m going to go in a vaguely chronological order and remind you of these panels:

So the first part of this with Bakugou already starting to pick on Deku happens before his quirk manifested and even longer before he finds out Deku is quirkless. It makes me think of when Deku said Bakugou only 'started down a bad path' once he got his quirk but it looks like he was being a little shit before even that.

Why does this fit into it at all, doesn’t this just confirm Bakugou has always seen him as a loser? Well, yes and no. With Bakugou having a squadron of children he thought were lower himself that followed him around everywhere, why did he only ever pick on Deku?

That’s something I’ll come back to soon but a few more moments I wanted to remind you of along these same lines are:

When he learns Deku is applying to UA

In middle school, Deku’s classmates finding out that the quirkless kid applying to the prestigious hero school is hilarious and they think that there’s no way he can get in. But the one person who does take is seriously is Bakugou.

He claims it’s because he wants to be the only person from their school to make it to UA but by saying this isn’t he admitting that on some level he thinks Deku has a chance to get in, even without a quirk?

When he sees Deku has a quirk

Now, up until this point, Bakugou has apparently accepted Deku actually is in UA, even without a quirk. In fact, he’s more shocked to learn that Deku does have one but lied to him about it (which only reinforced the belief Deku was intentionally trying to undermine him) and leads me right back to the point that Bakugou absolutely believed Deku made it to UA with no quirk.

He never saw Deku as worthless because he didn't have a quirk, there was something else at play, hence the meta.

Just to hammer that in further, something interesting I remember from the earlier chapters is Bakugou constantly referring to Deku as ‘a pebble in my path’

That specifically made me wonder why would someone who’s always seen everyone else as ‘extras’ and even went out of his way to remind his teacher ‘don’t lump me in with these losers’ refer to a kid he’s deemed to be useless as having any effect on his path to becoming a hero? It just doesn’t add up.

Though we get a lot of closer looks at Bakugou's pride and it's downfall after All Might loses his power, the reason as to why Bakugou was always so quick to hate on Deku is pretty ambiguous until we get to the newer chapters (spoilers for 285+ beyond this point) and we get this amazing piece of insight into Bakugou’s character:

‘I ignored my own weaknesses so I ended up bullying him.' Not only is he speaking candidly about how messed up his relationship with Deku used to be but he's admitting that he cares about him.

It’s by no means a rousing declaration of guilt but it does put the blame entirely on Bakugou himself which was honestly very refreshing to see. People aren’t black and white, not every mean character has a tragic backstory to explain their actions.

Bakugou may have just been a kid with way too many expectations put on him but that gives no excuse for what he did and he knows that and then he decides to make it right which is why his character is so interesting.

So why would Bakugou pick on Deku in the first place? It’s because he was scared of him.

Deku didn't believe that just because someone has a strong quirk means they should be treated like they're invincible (hence the famous river scene) and he treated Bakugou as he would anyone else which terrified Bakugou.

Bakugou is meant to be a strong hero with a powerful quirk but here's this kid who's quirkless, and so by society's standards should be weak and feeble, showing much more strength and tenacity than he should. It goes against the narrative of the world they live in and Bakugou is worried it'll effect how he's meant to be a hero.

Deku excels in every way that Bakugou hasn’t been able to. He’s kind but never hesitates to stand up for what he believes in, he has the uncanny ability to analyse villains and heroes alike in a way that allowed him to beat Bakugou in their training exercise, and to top it all off he has a strength of will that is honestly just scary.

Poetically, it’s only once Bakugou accepts that Deku has always been stronger than him in this way and they start their ‘Save to win, win to save’ dynamic does he manage to overcome those obstacles and start on the path to becoming a more rounded and stronger hero, as well as atoning for what he’s done.

He’s never going to stop being foul-mouthed or aggressive because that’s part of who he is, but he is a much better person than he was at the beginning of the manga. Saying he isn’t is blatantly disregarding so much of the story and just very, very incorrect.

Whether or not he'll outright say “I’m Sorry.” To Deku has yet to be seen but this route feels a lot more genuine to be quite honest. Not to mention, if he did confront Deku with it the most likely outcome would be Deku saying he’s already forgiven because it’s true but Bakugou wants to earn that forgiveness which is so much better.

Seeing how far their relationship has come since that realisation has been amazing and I can only hope we get to see even more development between the two of them.

This was just meant to focus on how Bakugou never saw Deku as worthless but I’ve already gone off topic. I could write essays on this pair’s dynamic but it’s already long enough so I think I’ll leave it here.

I would love to hear other people’s thoughts on it and thank you very much if you read this far!

[awesomerextyphoon]

I love your writing. May I have Loki x Reader? The reader is a sweet, delicate dreamer. Loki has come to conquer the world. He saw her and wants her to become his Queen of Midgard. He kidnapped her. She pleads with him to let her go while she is tied to the bed. He caresses her hair and says she will love him (he doesn't want to use the scepter on her).

***Can I have White Reader x Loki, please? Loki just escaped from the Helicarrier. He saw the reader who is a sweet and innocent creature. Loki doesn't want her dead when he will start battle. Loki kidnaps her and locks her up to keep her safe. When he wins, Loki tells her that she will become his queen.***

Hi! I decided to combine the prompts and make the reader plus-sized. I hope you enjoy! 

His Match

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Plus-Sized Female Reader 

Summary: You’ve tried to live by your grandmother’s rule  of being kind to others, even when the world gives you the middle finger. What if a Norse God decided reward you by becoming his Queen?

Word Count: 1,745

Rating: 18+/Mature

Warning: Kidnapping, Implied Dub/Non-Con, Angst, and some Violence

A/N: Thanks goes to the amazing @angrythingstarlight for beta reading this!

Loki was walking around New York City, scouting Stark Tower making sure the final preparations of his plan was perfect when something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

She walked out of what looked like a women’s clothing store with a forlorn smile. She was plumper than the average female Midgardian last time he frequented the realm. His eyes did not miss the enticing curves that lied beneath her clothes despite her efforts to ensconce herself into the background.

She was a vision.

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments and it felt like time stopped. His heart quickened in his chest and a rush of blood surged to his groin.

He had to follow her. His Elskan.

“Barton, tell the others I’ll be out for a few more hours. Proceed as planned.”

–––––

He found you entering a rather destitute apartment complex. Its lights and foundation were a bit unsound and gave off a seedy ambience.

Loki grimaced at her living conditions. When he ruled Midgard, she would have only the best.

Casting a simple concealment spell, Loki entered her fairly small apartment. She began mixing ingredients together for what looked to be ‘chocolate chip cookies’. He smiled as he inhaled the sweet aroma knowingly; Asgard had only recently started consuming the sweet. She soon laid out a batch of thick, scrumptious cookies with a satisfied expression.

They reminded him of better times when he and Thor would sneak into the kitchens and swipe confections from under the baker’s nose. Loki chuckled at the memory; those were the days.

Not ten minutes after she placed the last cookie onto the cooling rack did her phone ring. It was her mother. Loki felt dread coming off his Elskan in waves.

Loki could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation, if you could call it that. Her mother constantly nagged her about her weight, life choices, and her ‘pathetic’ attempts to get over her ex-boyfriend. His heart broke as he saw tears begin to fall and the croaking of her voice as she bid the odious creature goodnight.

Several minutes after she cried herself to sleep, Loki entered his Elskan’s bedroom. He spied her diary on the nightstand and decided to read a few pages.

He was fuming within two minutes.

How dare that caustic pig sow treat his Elskan, her own daughter, in a such ghastly manner! Her ‘perfect’ sister always slighting and reminding her on how ‘she’ll never be good enough for anything’ and her father’s callous indifference to her cries for help and solace only added to his rage. Combined with the way her ex-boyfriend, the repugnant gnat, treated her (he cheated on her with someone who ‘wasn’t built like a blimp’ and ‘the only thing you thing you had going for you were your tits’) and he wanted to speed up the invasion just to watch the horror become engrained onto their faces.

And yet, she endeavored to treat everyone with kindness harkening back to your grandmother. She strived to be the one light in one’s otherwise miserable existence.

Well, she can be his light as his Elskan and Queen.

Loki took a deep, cleansing breath. He needed to stick to the plan. When he conquers Midgard, she will be their queen. She will grace the undeserving masses with her elegance and beauty and he will worship her every chance he got.

He just had to make her see it that way.

Gently, the light forest green glow of Loki's magic flowed from his hand to the crown of her head like a halo. He leaned in and kissed her cheek with a smile as he left.

He hated to leave her, but he had a realm to conquer. Though he hoped she’d enjoy the introductory gift.

––––––

You were in your grandmother’s living room; spacious yet comfy with all of her quirkiness and splendor included. It was odd since you haven’t been in her house since your parents sold after her death seven years ago. You tearfully smiled remembering all the good times you had with her, the only member of your family you gave you any true warmth or love.

Her piano was in the corner, barely aged a day with all the music sheets, pens, a light scratches you came to know and love. You took your seat and started to play the piano version of one of your favorite movie themes.

You were so engrossed in playing, you failed to notice someone materializing into your dreamscape.

“What a lovely tune! What is it called?” A smooth, honey-tinged voice broke your concentration.

You turned your head and saw what had to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He was tall (6’ 10” / 2.08m) easily towering over any man you’ve ever met. He had smooth alabaster skin, light rose undertones with a little blue-red just under his eyes. His cheekbones were immaculate, somehow looked sharp and soft at the same time. He had thin lips with a fair plumpness to the bottom one. His slicked-back, shoulder-length Ponzu/Shadow Purple hair kissed his lean, battle-hardened physique (if the way he’s filling out his outfit was anyway to go by). All of this deliciousness was clothed in a casual Palm Green suit with a Glossy Black tie and shoes.

It took you a full minute to stop ogling him, “Wha-What did you say?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I asked what you were playing.” His voice had hints of mirth which was odd considering his appearance. Most people in his league would give you a thinly veiled sneer of disgust, but he seemed genuinely interested.

“Um, well, it’s called Merry-Go-Round of Life from the movie Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a favorite of mine. I used to play it all the time until…” You trailed off, not wanting to revisit how your grandmother died.

“You do not have to tell me if it brings you such displeasure.”

“Thank you, um…”

“Loki. Please, call me Loki.”

“Loki,” he inwardly moaned at the way you said his name, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Please, continue playing.”

And you did for what felt like hours, all while your sexy dream companion asked about your hopes, dreams, anything he could think of really. You in turn asked him about his life and interests; you even laughed at a story of his brother having to dress like a bride to get his hammer back.

You soon became enamored with Loki. It was refreshing to be noticed with actual interest, not ridicule or pity. He seemed to taken with you as well, if his gentle caresses and not-so-subtle lustful glances he gave you were any indication.

You were glad this was just a dream. You didn’t want your heart to break like last time.

Loki was about to lean in for a kiss when everything faded to black.

–––––

You jolted up from the mattress and screamed once you realized you weren’t in your room.

No, this room was…spectacular for lack of better word. It had high ceilings, large windows, ornate chandeliers, and magnificent balcony. Luxurious dark greens, gold, and black covered the room in splendor. Extravagant pieces of furniture dripped with precious stones metal worthy of queens or royal mistresses of old.

“What is this place?”

You tried to leave but was forced back onto the bed by a force field. You tried to take calm breaths just like your therapist taught you in order to make an escape plan.

No sooner did you calm down than the door open to reveal-

“Loki!”

Only Loki was wearing radically different clothing; looked like he walked right out of a fantasy epic. And yet, his smile was enchanting.

“What am I doing here? I need to go back home.”

He tutted in response, “That would not be wise, Elskan Mín. This world is mine now and this is safest place to be.” He was right. His brother’s team of desperate souls were no match for his cunning and Chitauri Forces. Midgard’s pathetic leaders gave up in less than an hour once their beloved ‘heroes’ were defeated, broken, and laid bare before them.

“You can’t be serious, Loki. I need to leave.”

“And go where? Like I said, this realm is mine now. That rat poison of a dwelling is no more and I have dealt with your ‘family’ as needed.” Loki smirked at the memories. It gave him extreme joy squeezing the life out of that worthless pig of mother, breaking every bone in your father’s body one by one, and leaving your ‘perfect’ sister alive with partially rotten skin. Not even the scavengers or maggots would find or want the remains of the scurvy insect of an ex-boyfriend, though he was still alive..just barely.

Well, at least until he decided on how to destroy the blight of creature.

Though he did make sure to leave two of your real friend were treated well. You needed to have someone to talk to while he was away.

You gazed into his Spearmint colored eyes in one last attempt, “Please Loki! If you love me, you’ll let me go!”

For a split second, you could’ve sworn you saw hurt in his eyes and he glided across the room. You back hit the headboard in you sad efforts to get away from him.

“Elskan Mín, I promise to always love, cherish, and worship every part of your glorious body. You will become Midgard’s queen and my goddess. No. One. Will. Ever. Demean. Or. Slight. You. Again.” he punctuated each word of the last sentence with soft, open-mouthed kisses to your face, neck, shoulders, and collarbone.

You tried to fight him, but it felt so good. His touches sent shots of lightning to your core; plus his lips and fingers were cook to the touch provided excellent contrast to the spike in heat.

You started crying realizing how pathetic this was, to have the first person to profess such feelings be a kidnapper. You were actually contemplating whether or not he was telling the truth.

Loki sensed your sorrow and kissed your tears away. “I know this might be ‘difficult’ at first, but you will love me in time.” He hoped he did not have to use the scepter.

You thought about your dream and all of the effort he was putting into this. It was frightening, but it came from a place of love.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay.

–––––––

@lookiamtrying @jtargaryen18 @sapphirescrolls @jobean12-blog @sweeterthanthis @gotnofucks @mcudarklibrary@saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @navegandoaciegas @stargazingfangirl18 @opheliadawnwalker3 @tilltheendwilliwritee  @imanuglywombat @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @navybrat817 @anyatheladyclown @buckysbunny @nacho-bucky @donutloverxo @stephanieromanoff @threeminutesoflife @angrybirdcr​ @angrythingstarlight @chixkencxrry @hurricanerin @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil @captain–barnes @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thebanprincess @winteralpine @leslie2898 @buttercandy16 @propertyofpoeandbucky @hevans-angel @thorfanficwriter @afriendlyblackhottie @avintagekiss24 @syntheticavenger @phant0m-queen @tuiccim​ @blueberrythor​ @river-soul @justthehiddleswrites @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

[honhonluigi]

I was wondering, do you think Nagito sees himself as below talentless people? Or at least on the same level? I see lots of people characterize that he hates them and/or would treat them badly, but I just don't agree. I've been trying to study his character deeply and imo you're the person who writes him the best that I've seen so I wanted your opinion. Sorry if this is out of the blue or if you don't want to answer I understand.

I’m the person you think writes him the best? Thank you! That’s incredibly flattering. I try my absolute best to keep him in-character, and to keep his character aligned with the games and not just my own opinions. I study and analyze all of his actions very deeply, and weigh them against each. And to me, the answer is obvious. 

I don’t agree with that either. Nagito is not a prejudiced snob. (That’s Byakuya). He doesn’t hate talentless people. I absolutely believe that he sees himself as on the same level as them, or only very slightly above them, if anything. I don’t ever think Nagito would “hate all talentless people” or treat someone badly just because they were talentless, or make that kind of judgement against them. I talk about this a lot on Nagito’s blog, and I really hope that it comes through pretty clearly. I never want to portray Nagito as some kind of prejudiced asshole. 

Because he’s not. Canon clearly shows that he isn’t. All the evidence points to him not specifically always hating talentless people. Let’s examine it, the way I did when I came up with my conclusions:

First of all, we have a canon example of how he treats talentless people. It’s Hajime. (And I know Komahina/Nagito haters will immediately go “Yeah! See! He treated Hajime horribly because he was talentless!” Well, you’re a fucking idiot, and you’re completely wrong, but we’ll get to that in a second.)

Let’s look at chapter 1. Nagito is nothing but sweet and considerate to Hajime the entire time, despite Hajime “forgetting” his talent. He sits with Hajime while he’s unconscious on the beach before Nagito even has a chance to know that he has a talent or not. He shows him around. He acts like his best friend the entire time. Despite Hajime not having a talent. 

“But he thought Hajime had a talent then!” You may say. And to that: You’re wrong. Nagito specifically says in the first trial that “Hajime and I are on the same level, since he can’t remember his talent.” That’s why he thought he had a shot at being Hajime’s friend. This proves that 1) Nagito viewed Hajime as ‘talentless’ for as long as he didn’t have a talent, since Nagito definitely didn’t consider himself as “on the same level” as Ultimate Students. and 2) That Nagito saw Hajime as talentless and still treated him kindly. 

That sets the tone for the whole analysis. Nagito saw Hajime as pretty much talentless right up until he found the files in the Funhouse, and he still treated him well. 

Let’s look at chapters 2-4 (up until Gundham’s trial). Hajime is consistently awful to Nagito. Nagito does his best to still be nice to Hajime. Yes, they argue a lot, but that’s Hajime’s fault. Nagito just disagrees with him, or says something crazy about hope, and Hajime can’t handle it. He’s a hot-head. Nagito’s not being ‘deliberately antagonistic’ by just...not agreeing with Hajime. Let alone being cruel on purpose or fighting on purpose. Hajime’s hatred of him was entirely his own fault. The whole time, Nagito still acted nice to Hajime, talked to him, assisted in trials, and was kind. Even if he talked crazy about hope and dared to disagree with Hajime, that doesn’t count as “cruel treatment”. 

Alright, now we’ll get to the part that everyone misconceives as proof that Nagito hates all talentless people ever. And it’s so...so unbelievably stupid that it makes my brain hurt just to think about it. 

Let’s talk about the Funhouse. While they were starving to death, Nagito was nicer to Hajime than any other time since Ch 1. He only started being mean to Hajime after the investigation, when he went through the Final Dead Room. Why? Because he found Monokuma’s secret reward files. At least everyone can agree on that. 

But here most people stop and say “Nagito hated Hajime because he found out he was a Reserve Course Student, and what he says to him proves it!” That’s not true. Let’s really think about it. 

What was in the files in the first place? Monokuma admitted after Nagito’s death that what Nagito found showed to him that everyone in his class was in Despair. It had the information on the Despair personalities of all his classmates. Wait...Wait a second? Who was Hajime in Despair? Izuru motherfucking Kamukura, the Ultimate Hope. I don’t doubt that Nagito found out that Hajime was in the Reserve Course, but that wasn’t the only thing he saw. He saw Izuru Kamukura, the Ultimate Hope. And he only got angry with Hajime after finding out that he had a real talent. 

Why? Because the reason Nagito was angry has absolutely fucking nothing to do with Hajime’s talent (or lack of it). And what he says to Hajime proves it. He comes up to him angry and says things like “You think you can just become hope because you want to? That’s so selfish! You can’t just become hope just because you want it badly! A talentless person like you has no chance of that!” 

What Nagito said was aimed at Izuru Kamukura. He would’ve seen in the files that Izuru Kamukura was a leader of Despair. He would’ve seen that he was “The Ultimate Hope”. And he would’ve learned about Izuru’s part in bringing down Hope’s Peak (which in game canon is the Student Council Murders). Why do you think he was so bent out of shape about Hajime “trying to become hope”? In his eyes, he saw Hajime as some selfish Reserve Course Student who got jealous of Ultimates, who tried to just ‘become hope’ because he felt like it, and ended up destroying everything in the process. Including the school and students that Nagito idolized so much. If you replay the actual conversation, the focus of Nagito’s anger is not that Hajime is talentless, but that he tried to become the Ultimate Hope despite being talentless. He doesn’t go up to Hajime and say “ugh, you’re talentless, and I fucking hate you” he goes “why would you do something like that!? why would you try to become hope!? that’s selfish and irresponsible and you should’ve known that it would end in disaster!” 

The reason people get confused is because you hear that conversation before you find out what Izuru did. I was confused too. I was appalled at how Nagito was acting. But once I learned what he read in the files, it made so much sense to me. He was angry at Hajime “trying to become hope” not “being talentless”. 

And if you think that conversation was insulting...Yes, it was. Yes, in that moment, Nagito was trying to be mean to Hajime. Not because he hated him for being talentless, but because he was genuinely angry. Angry for what Izuru did, but also hurt and betrayed. Nagito probably felt very betrayed after learning that. 

He said the whole time that it was suspicious that Hajime didn’t remember his talent. Monokuma told them there was a traitor, “working with the enemy”. Nagito admitted that he suspected Hajime of being the traitor. What do you think he thought when he saw that ‘Hajime Hinata’ was actually Izuru Kamukura, Head of Despair? Especially when Hajime was the only one who didn’t remember his (very incriminating) talent, and the only calling himself by a different name? Nagito probably thought Hajime was the mastermind. That he knew everything. That he started everything. And he was probably horribly angry and hurt. That’s why he wanted to fight with Hajime. Not because he was talentless. 

If you think that’s just a bunch of speculation, then I have two very canon pieces of proof for it. Pieces of proof that don’t make sense if he just ‘hates Hajime because he hates all talentless people.’ 

After Nagito found the Despair files, he hated everyone. Yes, even his talented Ultimate Hope classmates. He was angry with every single person there. During Gundham’s trial, he did nothing but sass and insult them all. He even said “this is the best that Hope’s Peak has to offer? How disappointing. Some Symbols of Hope you are” or something to that exact affect. He was furious with everyone after what he found. Whether they had a talent or not. 

Secondly, Nagito started being nice to Hajime again after the Funhouse. Close to his death, he was talking as kindly to Hajime as he ever did. Try to spend free time with him and he said things like “oh, it’s so nice that you want to spend time with me, and I really wish I could, but--” After Nagito got over his anger, he went right back to treating Hajime as nice as he always did. Even though, by that point, he definitely knew that Hajime had no talent. The Funhouse conversation didn’t prove that he hated Hajime and all talentless people forever. He was just angry. He’s allowed to do that. 

But it goes beyond Hajime. He’s just an example of Nagito’s canonical interactions with a talentless person. 

Look at Nagito’s own words and actions. Obviously he doesn’t see himself as “as good” as Ultimate Students. He constantly calls himself worthless and horrible. And you know what else? Talentless. Nagito refers to himself as talentless. He sees himself as on the same level as them. 

After the first trial, his big speech makes it obvious. The whole trial, he talked about being used as a stepping stone for hope. About his only life’s purpose being to help hope, because it was the only use for a talentless person like himself. Then, after the trial, he goes out and makes a big speech saying “talentless people are worthless and have no purpose but to die for the sake of hope!” And people think he means Reserve Course Students??? Who the fuck would he be talking about if not himself? He had no idea there was anyone talentless on the island, and certainly not a talentless person involved in his murder plans. The only person like that who was involved was him. And he spoke about himself in that exact same way. “I have no purpose but to die for the sake of hope, because I’m a talentless person and my life is worthless” compare to “talentless people have worthless lives and exist for nothing but to die for hope”. Right after that trial. When he didn’t know there was anyone else talentless on the island. When everyone was asking him “why the hell would you do something like that!?” Who the fuck else would he be talking about? He was talking about himself. It was supposed to show how crazy he was about himself and the idea of hope, not about his prejudice towards...characters that weren’t even known yet? And that very much proves that he sees himself as on the same level as talentless people, not better than them. 

It’s also proved by his interactions with Hajime after the Funhouse. By this point, Nagito knows without a doubt that Hajime is talentless. And yet when you try to spend time with him, he still says things like “I can’t believe you want to spend time with a worthless person like me”. Despite talking to someone talentless, he’s still insecure. He still calls himself worthless. He doesn’t act snobby or lord himself over Hajime. He’s just as self-loathing as he always is. 

I could probably explain this better, but it’s 4 AM so. If something is unclear, ask. I will have proof. My proof is pretty indisputable. Otherwise I wouldn’t have formed this opinion. 

Anyway, Nagito doesn’t hate talentless people. He’s not a fucking snob. People who characterize him like that just want an excuse to hate him and see him as a bad person, because they don’t want to admit that they hate him because of how his mental disorder makes him act. And they need a “that’s problematic” reason to hate a character, because simply not enjoying a character isn’t a valid enough reason to have an opinion, apparently. That, or they just weren’t bothering to pay attention to him at all, and only remember the one Funhouse conversation. 

Nagito views himself as on the same level as talentless people. He doesn’t think he’s better than them, even if he doesn’t think that he’s worse. When he interacts with talentless people, he’s still just as humble and kind as he is to everyone else. Maybe he could stand up for himself better to talentless people, but that’s as far as I would take it. He doesn’t hate talentless people. That’s just dumb. 

[fenristheorem]

Lance finding out that Gardienne killed herself? After a while of her being in the HQ again, he has fallen in love with her. She just couldn't bear those seven years, having lost that many people and being here just to save this world by suffering.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he knocked her door, he worried bc no one answered, and he finds her hanged up.

I know this is really specific, it's just kind of my OC ending😅😅 anyway, I'd understand if you weren't comfortable with this.

So I’m going to talk about the boundaries of what I write for a moment, starting by saying that I will write this BUT I won’t write detailed suicide scenes due to the sensitive nature of it.

This ask isn’t asking for a detailed scene, it’s asking for the effects the decision has on Lance, and because it’s asking for the long-term effects and not a scenario I’m just fine with writing this. 

Thank you for asking this, Anon, genuinely. Being this specific was probably what gave me the push to write this in the end because I know you were looking for the reaction and not the actual scene. This is a good example of a post that walks along the lines of what I will and won’t write so anyone requesting future asks with a similar subject gets a better idea of what to ask.

Also, I apologize for how long this took to write. This ask was, unfortunately, the one that spent the most time eaten in my drafts folder so I couldn’t work on it until about a week ago. Fortunately that gave me a lot of time to think over how to best write this, so I think this’ll be appropriately written considering the subject.

*Warning / Note: This post contains heavy depressive themes and suicidal mentions, as evident by the ask and what I wrote above. I’m aware that this is a very sensitive subject and I intend to treat it with appropriate seriousness. This is not a happy post, please only read this if you know this won’t lead you down a dark path. To me, writing is another form of art, meant to express and draw out emotions from the audience, so I won’t subside the intensity of my writing even with this being a sensitive subject. I don’t intend to drive anyone to harm themselves, but I do intend to write with the intensity that I always do because this is my artform; so please prepare for heavy themes or don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this. On a side note: I care about everyone, I really do, so please take care of yourselves. If you’re feeling depressive or suicidal, talk to someone, please. There is always someone who cares about you.

Technically Guardienne's death may have a major adverse effect on Eldarya due to her link with the crystal, but for the sake of this ask I'll ignore any possible effects like that.

~Under the cut~

Lance’s reaction to Guardienne’s suicide:

Lance had seen a lot of terrible things in life and had done many terrible things in his life, but this reached a new type of fucked up for him. Not because it's truly disturbing - although it is deeply disturbing - but because it fucked him up even more in a way that he neither thought could be possible nor that he could bear.

He’s convinced that he’s cursed; everything that’s happened to him has been his fault. He started the war within Eldarya, destroyed so many faeries’ lives, killed his own brother, and now the woman he loved is dead because of him as well. Sure, he wasn’t the one to tie the rope around her neck, but there are signs for these sorts of things. Was he truly that blind that he couldn’t see that she was in pain? Did he ever truly love her if he couldn’t see the pain? Would she have done anything differently if he wasn’t there to constantly remind her of everything that was lost?

Lance believes he deserves this. He’s caused so much pain and agony for everyone, it only makes sense that he should be the one in pain now. Lance won’t try to fight the agony he’s in, he’ll let himself drown in it for nights on end to wake up - or not even sleep to begin with - feeling exhausted, reckless, irritated and - overall - worthless. He’s sure to emerge from his room in the morning without the slightest hint that he’s been sobbing quietly with the feeling of a dagger twisting itself over and over within his chest all night, and he’ll refuse to answer any questions about if he’s alright after the recent events. He was the one to find her after all; it would make sense that he was hit the hardest...

In the daytime he’ll be rough and withholding, keeping the Obsidian guard in a tight hold to reflect how he needs to hold himself tightly to keep from falling apart. It’s one thing for him feel and express emotions, but this feeling is an entirely different thing; this is something that should not be released into Eldarya. He realizes it and knows that this feeling - something that he recognizes all too well from his past - threatens to destroy everything that he worked so hard to gain in the past seven years.

Mathieu will notice Lance’s change in temperament immediately, and being the kind man he is he’ll want to be there for the dragon, but Lance won’t be looking for comfort; he’ll be looking for something that will change the past and take back everything that happened. But that’s impossible - he knows that - and so he’ll be stuck in a state of limbo, deemed to mourn for his unknown, unrealized love until... something happens to change him.

Ice cold fear will wash over him some days as he recognizes the familiar feeling that haunted him in the past, and while he’ll be aching to reach out to lean on someone for support - afraid of this feeling overwhelming him again - he’ll feel that he can’t lean on anyone. He doesn’t deserve that support at this point after all he’s done, and there’s so many others who are busy grieving; the guard needs him to be strong now. However, on occasion - when he has a clear mind - he’ll grieve gently with someone who’s somewhat close to him, sharing kind memories of Guardienne and gently advising them to spend time around friends if his co-worker feels it’s needed. He’ll never completely break in front of anyone though, he can’t bring himself to. 

However, Lance falls apart immediately when he’s alone, sometimes even lingering in the conference room for a few minutes after a meeting to allow himself the private time alone to recollect himself. Grief will randomly hit him throughout the day, constricting his throat, burning his chest, and glassing over his eyes - and every time he’ll excuse himself from his company to isolate himself until he regains control again. This, of course, is taken into notice by a few others around the guard, and slowly there’ll be people who realize that Lance is not fine.

This becomes a further issue over time as his grief slowly turns into anger and disgust, and this is when that familiar, ominous feeling from his past really rears it’s ugly face. He should have seen something. Was he really that terrible to her that she felt she couldn’t trust him? Was everyone really that blind to not see her hurting?

Lance finds that he begins to choose to isolate himself, mentally and physically. He’ll leave the guards members alone that have stated they need time off, but he won’t be very forgiving with those who have chosen to continue their work but seem to be slacking. His mentality is that if you can’t handle continuing on, then don’t offer your service as it’ll become a hindrance, and this quickly becomes a major issue.

Huang Hua - knowing how important Guardienne was to Eldarya, and the guard especially - has let it be known that if anyone needs a break from their responsibilities, then it’ll be allowed, but she will stress that those who feel they can continue to function please try to do so, and be lenient and take on a few responsibilities that aren’t usually asked of them if they feel they can. She can read other’s auras and sense intentions and emotions of sorts, so she can generally get a good read on how someone is doing, but she can’t consistently do that with everyone, so while she’ll use this ability when necessary to enforce that someone take a break so they don’t fall apart, not every unstable case is known to her. This is the main reason why she slightly overlooks Lance for a while. When he first found Guardienne, he panicked immediately, rushing her to Ewelein and not even truly believing her death until many days after the event. Huang Hua - having sensed his shock and panic blocking out any other emotions - let it go for a few days; everyone goes through their own grieving process, some immediately and some not until many years afterwards. There was nothing that anyone could do for him until Guardienne’s death hit him fully. However, she also knew from her abilities that Lance was in love with her, or at very least had a deep liking for Guardienne, so the instant a few members of the guard come to her expressing serious concerns regarding Lance’s recent aggression and distance, Huang Hua knows immediately that it needs to be dealt with. This grief was an unknown factor in Lance’s new life - but his past with this type of grief shows clearly that this can really fuck him up - so it needed to be discussed, otherwise he risks spiraling back into the same place he was seven years ago.

She’ll approach him when he’s alone, or if they’re in a relatively public space she’ll take him somewhere private, sensing all the while the breathtakingly painful feeling of agony, anger and distress that’s clouding his mentality. It was just the same as when he was Ashkore, how did he not yet break? He’ll refuse to follow her if he knows she wants to talk about his emotions - ironic since he’s always been open to sharing his perspective and thoughts - so she’ll just tell him that she needs to talk to him in private regarding a few anonymous tips from some guards members if he happens to ask why.

Being alone with an unstable, emotionally distraught dragon with a history of violence while under heavy states of grief does unsettle her a bit, but she knows the outcome of this will be much worse if he truly feels isolated. He’s not going to reach out for help by himself - he doesn’t know how to, nor does he probably want to - so she needs to be the one to reach out to him and help him stabilize himself before another situation like Valkyon’s death occurrs.

She’ll consider first talking alone with him in his room - where he’d likely feel most comfortable - but considering he’d likely be defensive, that could then translate into aggression in his own territory, and that may lead her to being forced out of his room for her own safety. Lance has certainly changed in temperament, but heavy grieving emotions can blind someone, so there’s really no promising that nothing... destructive may happen, no matter how much he’s changed in patience.

She then considers talking with him in the conference room, but there isn’t a whole lot of privacy there. The conference room is more for business, rather than personal, private, emotional conversations. The last thing Lance needed in this moment was for his emotions to be treated even slightly like a business confrontation and not as an important part of his being. Frankly, even on a day where he’s feeling just fine he would never accept anyone’s emotions to be treated like a business issue, so the last thing she wanted was to imply that by bringing him into a room that could do just that.

Huang Hua then thinks over the idea of talking to him in her room; it would likely be safer, after all. He probably won’t become territorial or aggressive as it’s not his territory, and it’ll be a gentle reminder that she’s happy to welcome him into her personal life to help comfort him (therefore defeating the concern that it could seem like a business confrontation), but since it’s her territory he might emotionally shut himself down. It can be uncomfortable to fall apart in someone else’s room, especially knowing they’re higher ranking and could be interrupted at any moment to deal with something else...

Then she wonders if she should bring him outside of the guard to speak with him - somewhere that’s private and on neutral ground. That way they’d both be in strange territory and may not be interrupted, and if they are they’d receive prior warning by noticing that someone was walking their way.

Of course, Huang Hua then realizes that - no matter how much she’d like to think that she understands what would make Lance most comfortable - she truly doesn’t know what would help him best, but she can be there to provide support at very least, regardless of where they are. At the end of the day, Lance would probably know where he’d feel most comfortable, so when she approaches him to talk, saying that it’s an important but private conversation, she’ll ask him where he would rather talk. He’ll be slightly hostile, especially when he picks up on the fact that she’s going out of her way to word things carefully and prioritize his comfort, but he’ll decide to talk somewhere private outside the guard, where no one is around.

And that’s how Huang Hua finds herself in the middle of the open plains, far away from the guard to talk to a dragon who might as well be stabbing himself with his own dagger with how he’s been allowing himself to feel as of late. She’ll start off gently, telling him the recent concerns of a few anonymous guard’s members and Lance will stand a few feet away and listen coldly with a blank expression until she suggests that he take a few days off. He’ll debate things with her then, and it’ll escalate slowly until Lance is clearly distressed but still unmoving in his decision to remain active, and Huang Hua will know then that she can’t be gentle anymore...

“Lance, take a few days off, for your sake.”

“No.” His tone is harsh and cold as he snaps at her. “The guard needs me, there’s so much I need to do - so much I need to repay-” He didn’t mean to let that last statement slip - after all, his actions certainly couldn’t be made up for, right? - but emotions can be a powerful thing, can’t they?

“You won’t be able to do any of that if you’re destroying everything you’ve helped rebuild in the process.” Lance is pacing, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Huang Hua - despite her anxiousness at the dragon being so stubborn on decisions made under heavy negative emotions - tries to keep a comforting, open atmosphere to avoid furthering any issues. “You know the pain you’ve cast upon on others, you’ve felt that same sort of pain now and you need to take time to be able to recover from that.”

“I can’t take time, it’s not something I can just accept! Everyone I’ve hurt before never had time to accept the situation before I made it worse, but they still pushed forward! There’s no reason for me to have it any easier!”

“And where would we be if we treated you the same way you used to treat the world? Would we be any better than how you used to be?”

Lance stops pacing but his eyes remain on the ground, his throat constricting as his thoughts run rampant. Would they be the same as how he used to be if they allowed him to keep running himself this way? He’s done terrible things, but he’s spent many years trying to keep that from happening again. Certainly he’s an asset to the guard now, so would it be cruel of them to ignore his distress? Or would it be justified payback for everything he’s done?

“Lance, you’ve done wonderful things the past seven years, and we want you to continue that and I know you want to continue that as well. Take some time off so you can do that without destroying yourself or your environment. Don’t ignore your pain like it’s nothing - it’s not nothing, and you have the resources to deal with it in a better way now. Use those resources, Lance, it’ll help you work your way through this.” Huang Hua’s tone is gentle and soft as she pleads with him, hoping that her blunt words will reach his common sense.

He tries to argue this, stuttering the beginning of sentences to try and disprove her point, grasping for any reason as to why his pain is invalid. However, Lance finds that there’s no sound argument against Huang Hua’s words, and constricting panic, horror, and then heavy tides of grief will hit him as he realizes that he is, in fact, dragging himself into his own downfall. He is his own worst enemy, once again.

In any manner, this is all his fault - his past actions, Guardienne’s distress of what’s changed that lead to her death, his emotional isolation, and disruption of the guard is all because he doesn’t know how to deal with himself and his abyss of emotions. How did this happen to him? He was never the type of person to deny and hide away his emotions, so how is it he ended up caging himself like this when under personal grief? Is it because the situation is so personal to him that he has a hard time allowing himself to seek comfort in others who likely couldn’t understand?

Lance will fall apart at this, closing his eyes and turning towards the ground to keep himself together, but falling apart all the same as grief overwhelms him one final time in a push that throws him over the edge. He’ll clench his fist and bow his head, bringing it over his mouth as he desperately tries to steady his breathing, to no avail as tears find their way from his eyes and his chest heaves in quieted sobs. 

Huang Hua will lurch forward to comfort him, but stops as Lance whirls around to step back and snap at her - he didn’t want comfort, he wanted her back!

“Where were you for her!? Why didn’t anyone else see her pain!?” His eyes are tragedy and desperation underneath the weakened cold anger of ice blue, a faint few tears streaking down his face as his voice - thunderous and howling - cracks and breaks alongside his crumbling rage. If he couldn’t have fixed this, then someone else could have - why didn’t anyone fix this!?

“You know it’s not morally correct to monitor everyone’s private emotions all the time. What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t allow my people their privacy?” Huang Hua stills and clasps her hands together at her waist, understanding Lance’s outward anger. However, she realized his statement signaled something else as well; Lance could no longer fight why he should allow himself to grieve, so he was desperately clinging onto some semblance of needing to be distant by turning it to be someone’s fault - someone that he could hate.  “You are right in a way; of the many people who knew her, someone might have been able to catch how torn up she felt, but people who wish to hide their pain, or spend so long hiding their pain that it becomes a part of who they are, learn how to hide their pain in ways too complex for others to realize. And, Lance, if she didn’t want anyone to know about her grief, there wouldn’t have been much that I could have done anyways.”

“You could have helped her!” The dragon’s voice was weakening as he spoke, distant anger being replaced by a cold, hollow emptiness as he realized the truth in Huang Hua’s words.

“Only if she was ready for that help. You can’t force someone to accept help, you can only wait for them to allow themselves to be helped.”

“She wouldn’t want me to find relief during this time...” He looked away toward the ground and hung his head, blinking rapidly as he began to heave for breath. There must be a reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to feel this way .

“Do you think she would have wanted everything good you did - whether she knows what you did or not - to be destroyed because of your grief for her?” Lance’s eyes squinted closed and he tilted his head a bit further away from the phoenix. It seemed as though every reminder of everything good he’s done continues to leave him with a hollow chest. “I think if she witnessed firsthand everything you’ve done the past seven years she would have thought very differently about you now than what she did when first having woken up from the crystal.”

Lance turns to face his back towards her, resting a palm on his forehead before brushing his fingers back through his hair as a tremble rolls through him. He could feel pressure rising from his throat as he bared his teeth in an agonized snarl before parting his mouth to silently gasp for air. His head tilted back to look at the sky, only for a few tears to fall from his eyes when he releases a shaky breath.

“Lance, your situation with her was very unique - no one else could begin to understand exactly what you’re feeling from your history with her. Take some time so you can understand it - and fix, or do, or feel whatever you need to - so you can carry forward knowing yourself better.”

He wanted to fight her statement, but his moral compass argued with his resistance on this as well. If anything, of whatever terrible things came as a result of her death, there should be some good sought from it as well. What’s the point of accepting a tragedy if not to learn something from it as well, even if it’s something quiet that no one else knows you learned?

For the first time in a long while - if not ever - Lance allows himself to break and be comforted. He lets himself embrace the burning, stinging pain that rises in his chest as he turns his head back to the ground and collapses on his knees. Huang Hua immediately reacts and is by his side in moments, on her knees and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she leans against him slightly. Sobs escape his throat as his body tenses and curls forward slightly, bracing a hand on the ground to steady himself as tremulous waves of emotions - any and all emotions that could possibly be named - wash over him and leave him gasping for air.

“I miss her, too.” Huang Hua’s voice shakes now as she leans further against the dragon, bringing her arms as far around him as she can while her head rests against his shoulder, away from the spines on his pauldrons. Lance brings his other hand up and tightly grasps the forearm reaching across his chest.

Huang Hua had spent so much time trying to help others through this that she had completely forgotten to make sure she was alright as well, and seeing Lance - the man she least expected to be torn apart by this situation - completely break and fall apart before her eyes reminded her of the true depth of their loss. They didn’t just lose Eldarya’s savior, they had lost a friend, a great warrior, one of the last angels, someone who was pure at heart and wasn’t afraid to face the darkness of life without so much as a blink of hesitation. They had lost someone who gave everything for the world, and suffered because of it.

Minutes merged until they were unsure of how long they spent in the fields, but in time both of them calmed down. Lance - now able to think clearer on the subject - began to reflect on the situation.

“This wasn’t her fault... the blame is on all of us, for not having seen anything... but she must have known that someone would have been there for her if they knew how much she was hurting...” He murmured this quietly, waves of shame washing over him again as he realized he was perhaps pinning some of the blame on Guardienne. Was there really anyone to blame here? She must have known that someone would have been there for her if she sought help, but it’s not right for others to pry into the personal life of another if the intrusion is unwelcomed, and who was to say she wanted help in the first place? Had she given up? Would anyone have been able to stop her to begin with? Who was to blame, if there was anyone?

“There’s nothing we can do now except honor her and move forward.” Huang Hua whispered back with a shaky voice and Lance faintly nodded his head. There were many things that worked together to lead to this happening, and in between there also were moments where something could have helped deter it, both by her doing and by others. At the root core, everyone and anyone could have helped stop this in some way, even if it was by giving her a small passing smile that could have helped remind her that there is good and hope in the world, but there’s also no guarantee that anyone could have stopped it. Regardless, this is how things happened. They can’t change the past, but they can move forward with her in mind and learn from this.

Lance - despite his heavy grief and complex emotions on everything - begins to soften himself to the situation. He’s not the only one grieving. His situation may have been the most complicated, but he’s still in the same boat as everyone else. He doesn’t feel the need to sob alongside the others anymore, but he does find that whenever the group he’s in begins to fall apart into wailing, he’ll bow his head and won’t hide the obvious pain that he’s in at the reminder of his lost love. His feelings for Guardienne will be kept quiet, and he won’t openly say how he felt about her - it could still be seen as wrong in the opinion of some people for him to have fallen in love with the same woman he hurt so much, especially knowing her pain is what led to her death - but he won’t deny the truth of his feelings to those who caught on somehow. Lance will find that he’ll slowly begin to mend after this death, many months after of course, but it’ll happen, and in some ways this will help him move past his brother’s death as well. After all, in the end both Guardienne and Valkyon came to accept their final moments in life before allowing Lance’s past actions to bring about their end, and although one chose to die to help mend him and the other chose to die to help relieve herself, the root issue of the situation that led to their death was still very similar. He’ll have a hard time allowing himself to move past the fact that his actions played a major part in both deaths, but he realizes in time that that’s what happens when someone has a violent past. It’ll haunt for many years, and the effects of it can never be reversed, but in the end this only inspires him to work harder to provide a better world. Maybe he can’t erase what he did, but he can make sure it doesn’t happen again and work to provide Eldarya with as much good as he can provide now.

Without a doubt Guardienne’s death hits him hard, but he’ll be sure to come back twice as strong from this.

I hope you like this, Anon! I feel Guardienne’s suicide would definitely hit Lance hard and remind him subtly of Valkyon’s death, but I don’t see Lance being held down by this for too long. He’d heavily grieve for her for a good while before he eventually finds himself standing on two feet again and powering his way through life, if not for his own sake then for the sake of others, both alive and dead. 

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[bumirang]

Turtle, Duck, Dragon, Horse: Ch. 8 excerpt

It’s a chilly afternoon when Bumi sits in on Hana’s worst training session since she arrived at Air Temple Island.

Under Jinora’s supervision, she and six other novitiates were walking the circle in a coordinated effort to create a sphere of solid wind nearly twice her height. Intimidating, but she’d managed it before. She actually wasn’t doing too terribly, until she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. Maybe it was excitement or performance anxiety or just the distraction, but that’s when it all went wrong. She immediately fell out of step with the others, but the more she tried to correct for it, the more unstable their formation became, until the sphere was a roiling squall-ball they were struggling just to contain.

Master Jinora stepped forward and summoned a gust with thought alone. “That’s, uh, impressive, but if you’ll slow down and back away, I can safely disper—”

Then it exploded, with a roar like a thunderclap in reverse. Thankfully, they were shielded from the worst of it by a barrier whipped up by their teacher, but it was a close thing.

Hana’s ears are still ringing when she makes in Bumi’s direction, ignoring the accusatory glances from her fellow novitiates. It’s obvious to all of them who messed things up, but they can’t prove anything, so whatever. Bumi, in contrast, just waves happily, absentmindedly petting Bum-Ju on his shoulder.

She stops five feet away from him and plants her hands on her hips. “What’re you doing here?”

“Hi to you, too,” he replies, slightly offended.

“Sorry, that sounded… I mean, did you need me for something?”

“Nope.”

“So, what, you popped by to watch me be a screw-up?”

“Well, I like to get a feel for where the newbies’re at. Didn’t think you’d be out with ‘em.”

She deflates a bit. “You saw how hopeless I am. I’ll be stuck with the newbies forever at this rate.”

“Nooo, no… Your bending’s just, uh, chaotic.” His smile is wide but not very convincing. Oh no. He’s trying to be nice. Her face burns at the realization. Pity is the last thing she wants from him, of all people.

He continues, “Form was great, though. Right, buddy?” He glances at the dragonfly-bunny, who shrugs. “Yeah, he thinks so, too.”

“…Thanks.” She stares past him, at the ground, wishing she were anywhere else. At the same time, Bumi’s easily her favorite person on Air Temple Island, and it’s usually such a treat being the focus of his attention. If only she could be anything other than a pathetic misfit in his eyes.

He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, kid, don’t get hung up on it. We’ll figure it out.” His voice has gone all serious, worried.

“You don’t have to… be nice to me.”

“…Huh?”

“Because you feel sorry for me. I don’t want…” She feels her eyes flood with hot tears. In a panic, she slaps a hand over her face, harder than she intended. “Ow.”

Bumi clears his throat and calls over her head, across the courtyard, “Hey, Jinora, gonna steal Hana for a bit!”

“Oh, we’re all done!” she calls back, sounding less rattled than she probably feels. “No theft required.”

“Great! Seeya at dinner!” His hand slides down to Hana’s arm, sending a wave of goosebumps shivering along her shoulders and neck. She almost jumps when he mutters into her ear, “I know a good place to talk. No lookie-loos.”

Then they’re hurtling through the air, and she forgets about her shame for a sweet thirty seconds. His grip on her arm is firm, but she latches onto him anyway. Just survival instinct, she reminds herself, as she hears him laugh with her ear against his chest. He wraps an arm around her then, and she feels safer than she ever did on the ground.

Bumi sets them down in a little grassy clearing on the eastern edge of the island. It’s not far from one of his favorite places to have class, but without any obvious paths to it, you’d have to survey the island from the air to even know it exists. Or just know its layout like the back of your hand. It’s late afternoon, leaving most of it in the shade from nearby trees. What sunlight there is glows gold on dead grass. Framed by two stunted trees jutting from the cliff’s edge is the skyline of Republic City, painted gold as the grass. Bumi pulls a little ta-dah pose in front of it, which gets a smile out of her.

“That’s more like it,” he says, wearing his own smug grin. “Now what was that about you not wanting me to be nice?”

“I just meant…” She grasps at the air, like the words she needs to complete her thought are buzzing around her. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to go out of your way. For me.” It seems like a moot point now.

“Why not you?”

“I’m not cut out for this. You’re wasting your time.”

He laughs softly to himself and crosses his arms. For a moment, Hana’s terrified that he might be mocking her, but when he looks back up at her, his eyes are kind, and a little sad. “I know how ya feel,” he says with a shrug.

“How could you poss—”

Bumi just raises an eyebrow at her, and she slaps her hand over her face again. It stings worse than the first time, but she figures she deserves that.

“Fu— Nngh! I’m such an—” Hana drops down onto her haunches, holding her throbbing face in both hands. Maybe with enough pressure, she can shove the tears and snot back where they belong. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

She hears him sit down across from her. “M’not mad, kid. Like I said, I’ve been where you are. More or less.” She steals a glance at him, seated maybe a foot away and wearing the city itself like his own personal aura. “I see you busting your ass to do what comes so easy to others, and I know what that does to ya. Shame and doubt. Anger. A lot of anger. It can make ya feel worthless…”

She nods and eases into a cross-legged sit, mirroring him.

“S’not true, though. Everyone’s worth something. You’re worth a lot. Trust me, I’ve got an eye for talent.” Bum-Ju, who’s been hovering at a respectful distance, picks that moment to park himself on her head. “See? So does he.”

Hana wipes her runny nose, trying to hide it at first, but Bumi’s expression is so genuinely affable that she feels silly for thinking he might judge her. He’s on her side. A goopy face won’t change that. For lack of better options, she wipes up with a sleeve.

Hands dry, she reaches up, tentatively, to pet the dragonfly-bunny. “Is it okay if I…?”

“That’s up to him.”

The spirit doesn’t flee at her touch. In fact, he leans into it. She gasps as she runs her fingers through his fur, which is easily the softest, silkiest texture she’s ever felt, like yarn spun from cloudstuff. To her surprise, he gives a happy little chirrup and plops into her lap, landing on his back.

“He says to tell you he wants belly rubs.”

“Heh. Okay.” Petting Bum-Ju is supremely soothing, like lemonade on a summer’s day. His quiet little chirps merge and blend into a purr, and she smiles again. How could she not?

“It… It’s humiliating. I knew training wasn’t gonna be easy, but this is like being a little kid all over again.” She runs a finger along the edge of one of the spirit’s strange insectoid wings. Like the fur, it doesn’t feel entirely substantial. “I was supposed to be an earthbender, y’know.”

“Yeah? Says who?”

“…My dad.”

“Hah! Ain’t that always the way?”

“Heh…”

“You don’t give me earthbender vibes at all. You’re too… squishy.”

Her head shoots up to glare at him, and she notices how the sunlight’s shifted since they arrived. Twilight’s creeping up fast. “Did you just call me squishy?”

She’s caught him off-guard, and he blushes at the unflattering implications of such a word choice. “That’s to say… Well, the way rocks aren’t, right? Does that make sense?”

“No…?”

“You’re, I dunno, airy.”

“So I’m squishy like air…?”

Bumi runs a hand through his hair in actual frustration. “Forget I said you were squishy!” He looks relieved when she giggles and clues him into her teasing.

“My point being,” she continues blithely, “I may be the worst airbender here, but I had no earth talent whatsoever. Dad was not pleased. I never even wanted to do it, except to please him.”

“Sorry.”

“I have a little brother, though, and he’s brilliant with earth. Stone, glass, metal. You name it. Guess it worked out for Dad in the end, but I always… Even though it was crazy, I always wanted to fly. Not in an airship, but like the birds do. It never seemed fair.” She winces at how naive that sounds. “After Harmonic Convergence, I thought, y’know, finally. This is who I’m supposed to be.” Sympathy fills the lines around Bumi’s eyes and mouth, and she looks back down at the fuzzy spirit in her lap. She gives him some experimental chin scritches, which seem to go over well. “But it’s been more than three months now, and I’m still… I’m just a screw-up.”

“You’re the best teaching assistant I’ve ever had.”

Hana blinks. “Aren’t I the only one you’ve ever had?”

“Nah, I used to spend summers teaching new recruits arts ‘n’ crafts.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Says somebody who has no idea how boring it can get on a tour of duty! Keeping your hands busy staves off Sea Madness. And fistfights… Well, that is until somebody badmouths another guy’s macramé. I’ve been called as a witness at some crazy court martials, lemme tell ya.”

“I… Wow, okay. I guess you’d know.”

“And before I forget, let’s get one thing clear,” says Bumi, leaning forward and pointing right in her face. “I like being around you. Aren’t we friends?”

What’s the appropriate response to that? “You… friend… with me?” Well, it’s definitely not that. “I guess I didn’t… I thought you were just trying to figure me out. What’s wrong with me, I mean.”

“That, too, but hey! We have fun, right?”

“Yeah?”

“There ya go! Friends!”

She laughs. She can’t help it. Seeing the way Bumi’s face lights up only makes her laugh harder. Bum-Ju launches clear of her lap as she doubles over. Collapsed on the grass, she finally admits, “Okay! We’re friends! I guess!”

“So…” Only when she sees his shoulders relax does Hana realize how tense he’s been this whole time. “You always wanted to fly, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. More than anything. Thought I could grow up to be a bird if I put in the effort, but I was forced to develop an overactive imagination instead.”

“Sounds like a fun story.”

She pushes herself back into a sitting position and picks bits of grass out of her hair. She could do with a trim, now that she’s thinking about it. “Not a whole lot to tell. I was basically a toddler, and I don’t remember much.”

“Yeah?” Bumi’s grinning at her. He grins a lot, to be fair, but he has a different style for every occasion. Goofball, smart-ass, encouraging, nervous, and so on. This is a pure look of amused contentment, just for her. It makes her feel all gooey inside, but in a nice way, no snot involved.

“Hm. Well, okay. Mom did tell me about one time she found me eating worms out of the garden.”

“Hah! What’d it taste like?”

“Slimy dirt, probably? I only know it happened from Mom. Like I said, toddler.”

Bumi scratches his neck and looks off to the side, like he’s debating something with himself, then says, “I jumped off cliffs a lot.”

“Wow. Dark.”

“Into the water! Got pretty good at climbing. Diving, too, but that’s just, y’know, falling with style.”

“Umbrellas.” He looks at her expectantly, eyes glittering like chips of ice. They might be the palest she’s ever seen, and if they aren’t the most beautiful, they’re definitely in the top five. That’s a strange thought. Despite his age, he’s actually quite handsome. In fact, the wrinkles themselves emphasize his features in a way she didn’t realize she appreciated until just now. They tell a story of a life well-lived.

A quirk of his eyebrows reminds her that she’s in the middle of a conversation, during which she’s just said “umbrellas” and stared at him for ten seconds.

“W-well. Um. I saw this character in a storybook who flew around with an umbrella, so I found the biggest one I could and ran down the street, screaming my head off the whole time.” Hana feels herself blush at the admission. “That part seemed important for some reason. I was, like, five.”

“How’d that go?”

“As I recall, I broke the umbrella, and several people called the cops. They thought I was escaping from a murderer or something. Can’t imagine why.”

Bumi just laughs. Hana revels in it until he quiets enough to keep telling him embarrassing things about herself.

“Then there was the time I spent a month collecting loose feathers around my neighborhood and stuffed them all in my shirt,” she says, with a bit of added pantomime. “Was gonna jump out the apartment window, but I chickened out.”

“So… it worked?”

“Shut up. You are horrible, and I hate you now.”

“Minus 57 points for disrespecting your elder.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault they dress me like a giant baby.” She tugs at a corner of the scarlet shawl sewn around the shoulders of her standard-issue Air Nomad pajamas. They both snicker.

Then Bumi sits up straight like he’s been struck by lightning. “I got it!”

“Hm?”

“A wingsuit. Try one on!”

“That’s not really allowed unless you’ve qualified, though.”

“Eh, if you get in trouble, I’ll smooth it over,” he says with a little hand wave. “It could be just the confidence boost you need to get over whatever mental block is tripping you up.” He gestures at his own outfit. “Think about it. The right uniform can totally change how you see yourself. And I should know.”

“That’s a good point, but…” Hana shrugs and makes various non-committal noises. What she doesn’t mention is her discomfort at the snugness of the wingsuit’s fit. As ridiculous as the pajamas look on her, they’re at least loose and comfortable. Squeezing into a skintight flight suit to practice—probably clumsily as ever—is just another humiliation waiting to happen. It does give her an idea, though.

“Remember when I told you how I’ve had a bit of Kyoshi Warrior training?” she asks with a little smirk.

“I remember you not flipping me, even after I asked nicely.”

“Well, I might still have my fan lying around somewhere…”

[anarcoqueer1994]

So I wrote this and I'm pretty proud it. Some pre-serum 1930s Stucky, period accurate homophobia. If you like it I linked my ao3 for the other two chapters. Am I cringy? Probs but whateves

It is probably one of the coldest winters Bucky could remember. He was thankful that the end of the day was finally here. The biting temperatures were amplified by the air off of the cold water. More importantly though, going home meant he could go check on Steve, his tenement mate, and long-time best friend. Steve have come down with a bout of pneumonia a couple weeks back. He is still fighting to get his strength back, still breaking out in coughing fits and struggling to get around. His weak immune system made sure that it was not going to be easy to get over this. Honestly, Bucky hated that he had to leave him alone all day to work, but they needed the money to afford the rent, even if their tenement was too small and the heat wasn’t the best. So Bucky just spent the day going through the worse possible scenarios in his head. What if Steve got worse while he was away? What if Steve fell somewhere in the apartment because he is too stubborn to stay in bed, and now couldn’t get up? Was he laying their freezing not able to get back to his bed? What if he…dies because I am not there to help him? But now he could get home and check on Steve.

“James!’ Bucky turned around to hear Bill calling after, as he walking away for the day. Bill was another one of the grunt workers at dock. Nice enough guy, kind of rough. Probably his closest “work friend.” Bucky waits for him to catch up.

“Yea?” he says casually, trying not to show the impatience in his voice for the man that is unknowingly delaying him from getting to Steve.

“Want to go get a drink with some of the guys? Maybe we’ll run into some dames desperate enough for a good time to give your ugly mug a chance?” He wiggles his eye brows jokingly.

“No thanks, I’m good, actually.” Bucky replies, turning to leave.

“Oh come on, you never come out. Let loose a little, pal.” Bill pushes.

“I just need to get home…” Bucky responds, a little annoyed at this point because of the hold up.

“What’s the rush?”

“It’s just Steve is at home and he’s expecting me.” Bucky lies. Steve wouldn’t care if he went out. He would tell Bucky he deserves it. In actuality, he was too worried to go out and have fun, not when Steve was at home, miserable.

“Come on then, invite him out too. You guys can meet us at the bar.” Bill offers.

“Maybe another night, Steve is pretty sick. Getting over pneumonia.” Bucky goes to turn away again.

“Then why are you in a rush?” He laughs. “If he’s sick, he’s probably just laying down in bed. No need to babysit.”

Bucky ignores he question and just repeats, “Like I said, maybe another night.”

Bill lets out a little amused huff. “Interesting.”

His tone of voice gets the better of Bucky. “Interesting? What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky interrogates.

“Nothing, man. Forget about it.” Bill half-heartedly replies.

Bucky of course will not forget about it. “No, what did you mean?” His voice a little more irritated sounding then he intended.

Bill shakes his head and lets out a sigh. “It’s just some of the guys…”

“Some of the guys, what?” Bucky urges.

“Some of the guys say you’re a little funny, you know.” Many of the guys on the crew have grown up in the same neighborhood as Steve and Bucky and as such have known them, or at least seen them for a long time.

Bucky feels a sudden weight on his chest but does not let it show. “Funny how, Bill?” though he is terrified that he know what he means.

“You know, you and that roommate are pretty close and have been for a long time. Sometimes it just appears…” he hesitates, thinking about how to say it. “It appears like you treat him how you would treat a dame you were into. It just seems a little queer.” From behind Bill, he could see some of the guys eavesdropping. Some are smirking, and a few other are snickering. Some even are shooting disgusted looks at Bucky.

Bucky stops his face from faltering from the apathetic look he has put on. He replies loud enough for those assholes who are listening in to hear. “Well, I can assure you Bill, that Steve is my best friend, and that’s all, okay?” In reality, his heart is beating through his chest. Had it been that obvious that he liked Steve? How long have they been passing stories about this.

Bill cracks a smile and slaps Bucky on the shoulder. “Yeah, okay. I knew those guys had to wrong about you. Come out and join us later if you change your mind.” Bill gives Bucky the name of the bar they’ll be at, as he politely listens, not intending on changing his mind. As he leaves, he can tell a lot of the guys do not seem to believe him.

Walking home, Bucky was stuck in his head. He didn’t think people could tell how he felt about Steve. Did he act more like Steve’s fella than his friend? How could they tell? To be fair, he hadn’t been lying about Steve just being his friend. Just because Bucky was a little “light in the loafers”, did not mean that he feelings for Steve were requited. Steve was such a good guy and a model Catholic. No way was Steve into him the same way.

Probably for the best since guys liking other guys that way wasn’t looked on very favorably. The anti-sodomy laws made that clear. Plus, he didn’t particularly like the idea of having to get into fist fight with guys who may make a remark at him…or god forbid Steve.

He shakes his, getting himself out of his own thoughts. He didn’t want to think about these what ifs anymore. Maybe he would try harder to act less like a boyfriend to Steve and more like his super manly, non-homosexual, best friend. Its’s not like he didn’t like women, he just preferred Steve more. But he could be less doting. He didn’t need to babysit his best friend. Bill was right, Steve was probably just sleeping and didn’t need him. Maybe he would just stop at home, check in momentarily, and then take them up on his offer to drink with the guys. He hypes himself up in his head as he reaches the steps leading up to his door. These thoughts left his head as soon as he opened the door.

He could hear a pretty bad coughing fit from the bedroom. The place was freezing. The shitty radiator must be on the fritz. It was warmer than outside but not by much. It couldn’t be more than 40 degrees in that house, the paper-thin walls doing little to keep the heat in. Bucky makes his way to the little gas stove. The tenement was only 3 rooms, the front room that consisted of a little seating area and a modest kitchen (if you van call it that. It was a little sink and gas stove, with one cupboard), the bathroom (the only room with a door), and their share bedroom. He turns on the oven, and leaves it open so the heat could radiate through out the place. He discards his shoes and jacket in the front room. Then he quietly makes his way to the back bedroom, not knowing if the previous coughing fit indicated if he was a wake or not. If Steve was asleep, he didn’t want to wake him.

When he walks through the doorway to bedroom, his friend is huddled under some the blankets. He notices that Steve is still covered in his own blanket, as well Bucky’s blanket that he had laid on top of him this morning when he left for work. Steve’s face sticks out slightly even though he pulled the blanket over his head. He is definitely not feeling great. He is awake but kind of staring off in the distance. His usual pale features somehow look paler when punctuated with the dark circles under his eyes. Of course, he hasn’t slept well in a while, constantly being woken up in fits of coughing and wheezing. He hasn’t noticed that Bucky has walked in. There is no way Bucky can leave and go to the bar though after seeing this.

“Hey Stevie.” Bucky puts on a smile, knowing that Steve hates when Bucky stares at him like some pathetic sick thing. Steve looks up and for a moment it looks like a light entered his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. Bucky likes to think he did not imagine it and Steve genuinely lights up because of him. Probably wishful thinking but it’s a nice though.

“Hey Buck!” He tries to sound stronger than he felt. He hated making Bucky worry but he knew his friend, He inevitably is. He pushes himself up lamely to rest his back against the wall behind his mattress. He is still wrapped up in the blankets, still shivering faintly. “So how was work?” Steve asks, just kind of wanting to talk to Bucky. He would never admit it to Bucky, but he hated feeling alone all day while the other man was at work.

Bucky makes his way across the room, sitting on the little wooden stool by Steve’s bed so he could face his friend. His smile had disappeared momentarily when Bucky thought back to conversation he had right before leaving. But he recovers quicky to reply. “Nothing special. Cold as hell though. And this damn apartment is freezing, not making it any better.”

“Yea, I think the radiator is busted. Tried to tell the sup, but I couldn’t get out of bed. I’m sorry Buck.” He gives a sad smile. Times like this made Steve feel so useless, couldn’t even make sure the heat was working so Bucky was cold after working outside all day.

“No problem, pal. Tomorrow’s my day off. I’ll handle it.” Bucky smiles before realizing how sad Steve still looks. He leans over and puts his hand on Steve’s blanket covered shoulder. “Buddy, I promise it is not a big deal, you cannot help that you are sick.”

Steve sighs miserably. “Doesn’t mean, it doesn’t make me feel pretty worthless. For god sakes, look how pathetic I am. I have both blankets and am still shivering like some babe.” He averts his eyes to his lap, avoiding Bucky’s gaze.

This breaks Bucky’s heart, to hear how little Steve thinks about himself. Steve Rogers had the biggest heart out of everyone he knows. He has gotten into so many fights (that he could not win) just because he saw some in justice. Steve was the best person he has ever met so hearing this from him is difficult. “Stevie…” the familiar nickname instinctively causes Steve to look back at Bucky. “I hate to tell you this, bud, but you are wrong. You are pretty great and all this stuff about being worthless or pathetic, is bullshit.”

Steve lets out a nervous huff before quietly whispering “Thanks, Buck…”

“Anytime.” Bucky smiles back at him.

“But, umm hey Bucky…”

“Yeah?”

“Here...” Steve starts to shimmy out the outer blanket belonging to the slightly older man.

“Hey no…” Bucky puts up his hands to signal to stop. “You need that, it is freezing in here and you are sick.”

“Yea but we can’t have you getting sick, either Buck. You may not have my immune system but you can get still get sick.

“Steve.” Bucky says firmly. “I will not take that blanket from you.”

Steve sighs, sometimes Bucky can be as stubborn as he is. “Fine but I can’t have you freezing to death. Come up here. We can share the blanket,” Steve says it so matter-of-factly, like nothing he said was weird. And I guess it wasn’t it is not like they haven’t shared a bed before. Except, in light the conversation at work Bucky can’t help but to start to over think it. Luckily for him, Steve clears his throat to get Bucky’s attention when he notices him staring off. “Hey Buck…did you hear me? Come on, get up here.”

Bucky wants to get up there, god knows he does. To Steve it seemed to be a very practical thing, cold apartment, limited blankets, two bodies make more heat than one, etc. But to Bucky, it felt like so much more. He loved being that close to Steve. And that was his problem. Thinking fast he says “I should start supper. I’m going to heat up the stew for us that Mrs. Andrews dropped off yesterday.” Mrs. Andrews being the nice widow from upstairs.

“Oh…” Steve says before letting a smile come back to his face. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he would say Steve almost sounded disappointed. He did not allow himself to dwell on it too long. Instead, he quickly stands up and makes his way to the kitchen. He throws the small pot of stew on the stoves so he can warm it up.

After a few minutes, he hears Steve shuffle into the room. It really was much warmer in that since the oven, and now the stove, have been on. Steve takes a quiet seat at their modest table.

“You didn’t have to come out. I would have brought you dinner, Stevie.” Bucky says, eyes on the pot in front of him.

“S’okay, I needed to stretch my legs…” No sooner did he say that, did another coughing fit came on. It sounded almost painful, and Bucky could only imagine how raw Steve’s throat must feel. He made his was to his friend, carrying a handkerchief to help with the mess of snot and flem coming from the other man. He stops in front of his friend, crouching down to be on his level. Bucky patiently waits for it to pass before handing his friend the little piece of cloth.

“Thanks Buck…” Steve said almost like he was embarrassed. Bucky instinctively squeezes Steve’s knee reassuringly, before smiling softly and getting back up. He walks back to the pot on the stove. Okay, he thinks to himself. I may be a little too doting. What Bucky did not see when he turned around was Steve smiling at him.

The rest of dinner is uneventful, give or take a few coughs and shivers. When they finished eating, Bucky has to turn off the oven He doesn’t want to leave it on all night, doesn’t want to risk a fire. It is still pretty early in the evening, only about 7:30 but he can see Steve is exhausted.

Steve stands up, but momentarily loses his balance. Bucky, overreacting, stands up and catches Steve before the smaller man can even try to catch himself. They find themselves in a precarious situation. Steve is leaning is weight against Bucky’s chest, as Bucky’s arm is wrapped around the skinnier man’s waist. Bucky’s cheeks turn red as Steve stares curiously at him.

After what felt like years of silence, Bucky lets go of Steve, realizing his friend must be confused. “Uh sorry, thought you were going to fall.” Bucky nervously rubs the back of his neck.

Steve yawns and says “Thanks, I almost did.” He actually flashes bucky a warm smile that honest to god gave the brunette butterflies. Get it together, Barnes. He thinks to hisself, as he watches Steve walk away to their room. He follows noting the apartment temperature going down again.

When Bucky gets to the room, he finds that Steve has set his blanket on his bed. “I told you Stevie, you need this more than me.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Steve says between shivers under his own blanket. “Can’t have you getting sick too. And you are being weird.”

“What do you mean by weird?” Bucky cocks his head to the side.

“Well, it would make more sense to share a bed, two blankets and two bodies would be warmer, and we have done it a thousand times. But ever since you got home from work, you seem off. So take your blanket, punk.” Steve stares at his bewildered friend.

Bucky hates that Steve is so observant. He hadn’t meant to be weird. But now his stubborn friend was going to freeze tonight because he refused to not let Bucky have a blanket. He lets out an exasperated sigh, plays up the drama of course. “Fine. You win. Sharing a bed it is.”

Steve beams at him. Bucky should of know Steve would win this out. With Bucky, Steve could have anything he wanted. He had to face it, he was wrapped around the younger man’s finger.

Bucky makes his way to a pile of books on the ground, grabbing his copy of The Hobbit, before stepping out of his pants, leaving him in a shirt and briefs. He takes the book and his blanket over to Steve’s bed. He scoots into bed with Steve, both men adjusting so that the blankets now cover of them, their bodies inevitably touching on the small, twin size bed. Bucky sets his book on the nightstand, knowing Steve will fall asleep first and he’ll probably do some reading.

Bucky suddenly freezes when he feels Steve lie his head on Bucky’s chest, his arm thrown over the other man’s abdomen. Bucky’s arms are currently under his own head. This is new. Usually, they only got in this position through accidental readjusting while they are sleeping. Stuff that Bucky could just brush off. But now an awake Steve Roger’s is cuddling with an awake Bucky Barnes. He hopes that Steve cannot feel his heart racing in his chest. He continues to look up at the ceiling, hoping to nullify the blush creeping up his face.

Steve doesn’t seem to notice the other man’s reaction, or if he does, he hides it well. He whispers “Is this okay? I’m really cold and I guess I am trying to steal your body heat.” Steve’s voice sounds shy, almost embarrassed.

Of course, when Steve puts it like that, how can Bucky say no? He internally scolds himself for reading more into it. He tries to let out a casual laugh, though it sounded way more choked then intended. He lamely jokes. “That’s why you were trying to get me into bed. To use me?” He finally looks down at his chest, trying to see if his friend laughs. Instead, he is met with questioning blue eyes, genuinely concerned if this was alright. Even with only the dim light of a small bedside lamp, he can’t help but notice how those eyes sparkle. Bucky lets out a small, controlled, sigh and quietly whispers, “Steal away, buddy.”

“Buck?” Steve’s voice sounding even smaller this time. Bucky can’t remember Steve sounding so nervous about anything. He begins to panic internally even as he tries to stay cool externally.

“Yea Stevie?”

“You can say no, okay?” Steve whispers nervously.

“Steve what is it?” His voice more audibly concerned this time.

“Will put your arms around me? I feel like I just can’t get warm.” The way Steve asks is heartbreaking to Bucky, like he was worried Bucky would be upset.

For the first time, Bucky notices that Steve is still shivering. He had been so wrapped up by the way he felt having the smaller man so physically intimate with him, that he didn’t realize that the cold really was getting to Steve. He can tell by the way Steve was acting, he was embarrassed to make these requests. He knows Steve could be a proud man and to be in the position where he had to be so vulnerable was probably hard for him. So Bucky didn’t want to make it a thing, where Steve would feel obligated to have to say more. This was obviously tough enough. So without a word, he wrapped one arm around Steve, as the other fell over his own chest so that he cook connected his hands, locking Steve in, and trying to pull him as close as possible, trying his hardest to warm his sick friend.

Steve didn’t say a word, just flashed a tiny appreciative smile. They laid there in silence for a while before he finally heard Steve’s breath steady in a way that indicated that sleep finally overtook him. Bucky frowned because even in his sleep, the other man’s breaths seemed labored and congested. He hated that this was Steve’s life, that he couldn’t fix this for him. But at least he could help him for tonight. Bucky would be content spending the rest of his life as Steve’s best friend, even if it broke his heart know he could never be with Steve the way he wanted to be. This could be enough.

~~~~

A few hours pass by. Bucky had fallen asleep a little bit ago, still with his arms wrapped around the blonde. It is around 1 am when Bucky is disturbed from his sleep. He had become alarmed when he realized that Steve was no longer beside him. He sits up and desperately looks around the dark room, unsuccessfully scanning for his friend. That’s when he spots the soft glow of candlelight through the doorway coming from the front room. He notices both blankets are still in bed with him, so he worries about the offending temperature in the other room where Steve must be.

He makes his way out of bed, wrapping one of the blankets over his shoulders, and walks to the front room. Luckily, he found when he got in there, that Steve had turned one the oven filling the tiny front room with warmth. He spotted Steve sitting on their tiny old couch, kind of staring off. Bucky clears his throat, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice, still lost in his thoughts.

So, Bucky steps a little closer, stopping when he is a few feet away from his friend. A candle sits on the little crate they use as side table, the dim light barely illuminating his friend’s face. “Hey, bud. Couldn’t sleep?” Bucky says softly.

Steve doesn’t bother looking up, just keeps staring a head. He mumbles. “Was woken…up by something. You can go back to bed.” Steve looks visibly shaken and Bucky was absolutely not going to be able to just go back to bed.

Bucky instead takes a seat next to his rigid friend. Something was definitely not right. The way that Steve was sitting so stiffly, his face was distorted into a broken frown. At this level, Bucky can also tell his friend had been crying, blood shot eyes lit a glow from the candle. “Steve…buddy what’s wrong?” Bucky instinctively goes to rest his hand on the other man’s boney knees. To his surprise, Steve pulls his knee away, repulsed, still not looking at him.

Fear flashed through Bucky’s head. Had he done something? Had something happened while they were sleeping. Had Steve realized the way Bucky looked at him was wrong. He was trying to panic but that seemed fruitless. “Stevie…did I do something wrong?” Bucky didn’t recognize the voice that came out of his mouth. It seemed so broken and pathetic.

Steve let out a pained sigh, before momentarily pressing the palms of his hands over his eyes, like he was forcing back tears. Finally, he turned and looked at Bucky. He sounded frail; his voice laced with sadness. “No Buck…never. You could never do anything wrong. Its me…I am the something wrong here.”

Bucky immediately got defensive, worry coating his words. “What are you talking about? You didn’t do anything wrong? Please tell me why you would say something like that?” He may have been a little louder than he intended, as he felt terrible as he watched Steve recoil at his tone. He lowers his voice before softly placing his hand back on Steve’s knee, this time the younger man letting it rest there. “I’m…I’m sorry for yelling, Stevie. Can you please just tell me what happened. I am sure you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He watches as a tear starts to well up in Steve’s eye again, as he obviously tries to will it to stop before it falls defiantly down his cheek. The dam is broken and Bucky watches helplessly as his best friend falls apart in front of him. Without thinking, he throws his arms around Steve pulls him into a hug. Steve buries his head in Bucky’s shoulder, repeatedly whispering “I’m sorry.” Bucky quietly shushes him, while running his hand over the back of Steve’s neck, trying to sooth his friend.

After what seemed like an eternity, Steve pulls away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Bucky’s eyes are still riddled with worry, his eyebrows scrunched together trying to figure out what could be wrong. Steve whispers “I might as well show you; you will see eventually anyways.”

Bucky feels his chest tighten. What could be so bad that Steve would be this freaked out. He tentatively nods his head, preparing for whatever it could be.

“Buck?” Steve questions.

“Yea, buddy?” He replies automatically.

“Thank you for being my friend and …” There was a sad hesitation in his voice before he continues. “And I get it if you don’t want to be my friend anymore after tonight.”

That thought breaks Bucky’s heart in two. A choked breath escapes him. “Trust me…that’s not going to happen. “

Steve can only give a disbelieving, sad smile in reply. Bucky is now terrified at what could have caused this all.

Without saying a word, Steve picks up the candle and walks to the door that leads outside of their tenement. Bucky gets the idea that he should be following him. When Bucky catches up with him, he notices Steve’s hand shaking as he reaches for the doorknob. Bucky does not rush him, knowing that whatever this was, it was hard. Before long though, Steve opens the door and steps outside. Bucky follows close behind. For as cold as it was inside, the outside was colder. Steve didn’t even seem bothered though, too consumed with grief about something to care.

Steve stopped a few feet away from their door and turned back around to face it. For a moment, he thought he was turned around to face Bucky. Bucky starts “Why…why are we out here, Stevie? It is freezing.” Bucky still only in a shirt, underwear and a blanket. Steve had been a little better dress but not sufficiently enough. The only thing that left Steve’s mouth was. , “Look.” As he pointed behind Bucky at their door.

Bucky turned around and he felt like he got punched in the stomach. On the ground around him were a few broken glass bottles, but that wasn’t the issue. The pale light from the candle illuminated 7 angry red letters, painted sloppily in red on their door. Bucky reads the word out loud, simultaneously deflating with each syllable. “FAGGOTS.” He feels like his world is spinning. Did someone know…about him? Was this the guys at his job? Had to be, after the way they looked at him earlier, knowing he was lying. Worse yet, they are throwing Steve into this. Steve didn’t deserve to be taken down with him.

He was broken out of his thought by the weak voice coming from the man slightly behind him. “I…I was woken up by the sound of these guys laughing outside. They sounded drunk…and you know how much of a light sleeper I am. I thought they were going away but then it sounded like they were at the front door. They were still laughing and I heard glass breaking. You were out.” Bucky silently curses that he was such a heavy sleeper as he continues listening, eyes still fixed on the door. “So, I got out of bed to see what was going on. By the time I get to the door, they are running off, and one called me…this before disappearing down the steps. I tried to go after them.”

“Of course, you did…” Bucky replies, not processing it all.

“Yea, well it was too icy and I am too sick, so I couldn’t catch up to them. When I turned to go back inside, I seen this. And…and I am so sorry Buck.” Steve’s voice crumbles, sounding pathetic and sad, and full of hurt.

That’s when Bucky finally turns to face Steve. “Sorry? Sorry for what? None of this is your fault.” His voice is soft, only focusing on his hurting friend, ignoring his own hurt and panic.

Steve lets out a sniffle, Bucky unsure if from the cold or from fresh tears. “That’s where you are wrong. They did this because of me…”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky stares in confusion.

“These guys…they must have found out…found out that I …I am one.” Steve looks to the ground, terrified of Bucky’s reaction. Tears falling to the frozen ground, his skinny body shaking.

Bucky is overwhelmed with emotions. The most prominent of these emotions though was sadness for his hurting friend. Understanding the irony, he was still heartbroken that Steve thought he had to keep this his dirty little secret. This is why Steve thought they wouldn’t be friend anymore. He was lost for words but needed Steve to know that He was there for the long haul and this wasn’t going to change anything. For the second time this evening, he found himself pulling the younger man into a hug, the candle dropping, putting itself out. “s’okay Stevie…it’s okay. I promise…” He keeps repeating as his arms threaten to never let go of Steve again.

After a few moments though, he noticed the blonde shivering. It was still the middle of winter after all. Without saying another word, Bucky pulled away from the hug(reluctantly) before grabbing his hand and dragging him inside. He drags him to the bedroom where the warm bed wait, Steve not putting up much of a fight. When they get to the room though, Steve pulls his hand away and quickly makes his way to his bed. When Bucky makes his way to Steve’s bed, Steve puts up his hands to make the other man stop in his tracks.

“Buck, thank you for not kicking my ass.” Bucky puts on a hurt look, not believing that Steve actually thought he would. Steve explains himself. “Most guys would have knocked someone out if they found out their best friend was a fairy. So, um, thank you for not doing that.” Steve nervously puts his hand on the back of his neck before continuing. “But you don’t have to lay with me anymore. I get that can be weird now knowing…” Steve still refuses to meet his eyes.

Bucky lets out a huff. He can’t let Steve sit here and feel like he is alone. After what Steve confessed, he thought it was only fair. Ignoring, Steve’s protests, Bucky walks to the bed and sits on the edge, facing Steve. The streetlight out the window dully lighting their faces. He rests his hands on his own thighs, suddenly clammy despite the freezing temperatures. He says “I know…” He stutters “I know… who did this.”

“Who?” Steve sounds surprised despite himself.

“Some guys from the job.” Bucky says sadly.

“Why would they do that?” The smaller man responded, confused.

“Today…they asked me if I was that way you know? They thought that I treated you differently then how a guy should treat his friend.”

“Oh…” is all that escapes Steve’s mouth, Bucky watching an “O” form on the other’s lips.

“I…um of course…told them they were wrong but I guess they didn’t believe me. I’m sorry Steve. I guess…um…” Bucky stops, unsure if he wanted to finish.

“You guess what?” Steve asks, curiosity getting the best of him as he finally locks eyes with Bucky.

“I guess I was too obvious, Stevie. Look, I…I don’t know if I am that way. All I know is that I only got eyes for one person and that person is a fella.” Bucky’s face turning pink with the admission.

Steve stares, visibly confused, unsure exactly what Bucky is getting at. He dumbly asks “Who?”

Bucky gives an uncomfortable laugh, obviously apprehensive. “Are you that oblivious, pal? You…Stevie.” As the other man’s name slips from his mouth, he finds himself trying to look anywhere to avoid the gaze of the blue eyes staring into him.

All Steve manages to choke out is “Really?” His voice sound apprehensive and shy But to Bucky’s surprise, it also sounded hopeful. Yea, he already knew Steve was queer but that did not mean that he automatically like Bucky back. But maybe…he did?

It was this hopefulness that gave Bucky the courage to look back at Steve, his own light eyes staring into Steve’s. He can tell his friend was blushing hard, It was adorable, and pretty impressive for someone who was so pale moments ago. Without thinking about it, Bucky reaches his hand across the bed, and rests it on Steve’s shoulder, still safe in the platonic zone if they wanted to turn back. He whispers almost too quietly for Steve to hear. “Yea…really. You know how much I love you, Stevie, Always have. And for a long time, I thought that love was just because you were my best friend, you know? But overtime, I came to accept that the love I felt for you went way beyond that of a friend, even a close friend.” He looks down before looking back up, sporting a small mischievous grin. “Plus, I think you are really fucking hot.”

Steve somehow manages to blush eve harder, Though he was blushing, Steve was never one to back down from something he wanted. With the knowledge that his best friend was just as into him as he is to him, He scoops forward down the bed, so he very close to Bucky. Bucky’s hand had made its way off Steve’s shoulder, to now gently rest on his hip. He moves his head close to Bucky’s. The older man could feel Steve’s breathe on his face as he replies with a nervous smile “Good, because I’ve had eyes for you since were teenagers. I always got jealous when I seen you with a random skirt instead of me.”

Now Bucky was turning as pink as Steve, red hues covering his face and ears. He made Steve jealous?! He couldn’t believe it. Steve really wanted him. He takes his free hand and moves it to the back of Steve’s neck, wanting so bad to kiss him. He whispers “Can I kiss you?” It sounds so silly coming out of his mouth but he doesn’t want to push Steve.

Unfortunately, to his dismay, Steve says “No, Buck…”

Bucky looks down, suddenly feeling defeated. Had he read the signs wrong. Was Steve admitting he loved him too but did not want to pursue such a risky relationship. His head began to spin as he pulled away. “Oh, I/m sorry.”

Steve lets out a little laugh, grabbing his hand as he went to pull away. “I said no because I am still sick, jerk. Trust me I want to kiss you.” Bucky can’t help but laugh at himself too. Steve continues, “But I would like you to stay in bed with me tonight, if that is still okay."

“Of course, it is...anything for you.” He beams.

A few minutes later, they were laying down, Steve’s head on Bucky’s chest like earlier. Except it wasn’t just like earlier. The action was the same but the feelings were different. Earlier, there was tense atmosphere of secrets they were both hiding. But now it felt like it should have always been like this. Like they were complete more complete. Something that had always been there could thrive. Bucky lazily runs his fingers through Steve’s hair as they begin to drift back to sleep. “Buck?” Steve sleepily asks.

“Yea?”

“So you are my best fella now, right?”

Bucky chuckles to himself that Steve would even worry enough to ask. “Right, Stevie.” only getting a soft okay in response. Bucky lays there, waiting for Steve to fall asleep first. Thoughts run through his head, uncertainties about what to do tomorrow about those asshole, and how this is all going to work. But the one thing he doesn’t worry about is the fact that Steve is his and he is Steve’s

Other two chapters, poorly written smut in the second half of chapter 3.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30749381/chapters/75892694#workskin

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Reasons Doug’s Pretty Great

It’s hard to believe that it’s been nine years since the first episode of S1 was released. I can still remember be a wee little lass first discovering it on youtube and becoming obsessed. At the time, I had no where to play it myself, so I watched as many playthroughs as I could until my family got an xbox. 

While the first episode in this series has a lot of memorable moments, the one that always stands out in people’s memories is the moment where you’re trying to escape the drugstore as walkers pound away at the door and windows, and you realize that both Carley and Doug need your help or they’re going to die. 

But... you can only save one, and whoever you don’t help, they end up being eaten alive by walkers and you get to feel bad about it for the rest of the episode. 

I bring this up because it’s interesting to look back nine years ago and see that... well, not a lot of people saved Doug. Which is crazy, because now the stats are pretty 50/50 with Doug even having a bit of an edge over Carley. That definitely wasn’t the case back then because the stats were more along the line of 20/80.

Why? Well, the writer’s didn’t exactly do the best job of showing how great Doug is in ep1, especially compared to Carley who has more interactions with Lee and more screen time.... which is even funnier because they did actually think they did a good job and were surprised by the results after the episode’s release.

Even back then they had a habit of making imbalanced routes then denying the imbalance... something they never grew out of. 

I guess they were a little butthurt about it since Doug is a favorite among the team given that he’s actually based on a real person, Doug Tabacco, an IT guy they worked with. This got to the point where Telltale never missed an opportunity to tell everyone to #SaveDoug over Carley.

I also love that they use the Stranger to guilt trip everyone who saved Carley by having him be like, “Doug was in a worse position! >:( You only saved Carley because she was a pretty girl!!” just.... real subtle, guys haha

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that more often than not, I choose to save Carley over Doug for many reasons, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate Doug and enjoy having him around in the off chance I do save him. So I thought it’d be fun to talk about Doug as a character and why he was pretty great as a little tribute, y’know? 

5. Doug’s a pretty funny dude

Now, I wouldn’t exactly call twdg a comedy, y’know? It gets dark, then manages to get even darker at times, but if the game was nothing but doom and gloom, it’d get boring and become unenjoyable. 

While other characters do get a laugh out of me from time to time, I enjoy the humor that Doug brings to the group, even if it’s not intentional and just the way he is. 

Even from the beginning, Doug had me chuckling with the fact that this nerdy dude didn’t want to bring profanity to Lee’s ears when talking about Larry, so he’s just like “ He's kind of a dick... pardon my french,” like Doug.... it’s okay, you can call him an asshole, no one will judge hahaha.

Then there’s the biscuit scene that I think we all know and love. Helps break the tension of meeting these weirdo’s who own a dairy and are totally not suspicious or anything. 

But it’s not even just that Doug is funny, he’s also a character that gets you to crack a smile when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about, or when he’s proud of the alarm he rigged up, or when he’s being adorably awkward. 

One of my favorites is in ep3 when Lee goes to ask Doug if he has any chalk, and he goes into this spiel about charcoal-- “You know, a piece of charcoal is a suitable alternative, depending on your marking surface. Since we're on the subject, did you know that while chalk is traditionally known to be calcium carbonate, what's often used in classrooms is actually made of gypsum, thanks to favorable domestic mining conditions?”

And Lee’s response is just-- “Doug, I did not know that.”

“Happy to be of service.”

It’s just really funny... and it makes you feel better after all the implications about Doug’s mental health in the episode... like you gave him a moment to flex his knowledge and get excited about it. 

But yeah, what can I say? Doug makes me laugh and he brings a bit of light to the groups constant shitshow. 

4. Doug saved the group’s ass at the St John farm

And he did so with a laser pointer. 

I always hate it when Doug/Carley leave the group at the St Johns and remain absent for most of the episode, though I chalk that up to the writers trying to make the different routes easier on themselves, y’know? 

But, at least they come back to save the day. 

In Doug’s case, he’s not comfortable with guns like Carley is, so he’s gotta get creative when it comes to getting Lee’s attention and stopping Andy from hurting Duck and Lee. 

That’s where his fancy little laser pointer comes in. 

We first see him with it during the walk to the farm, but then see it in action after Lee escapes the barn and is nearly blinded by the light. Doug claims he was doing morse code before Lee tells him and Ben that these assholes cut off Mark’s legs and tried to feed them to the group. 

Now, here’s the thing... If Doug and Ben had done what they were told and stayed at the motor inn over night, things probably wouldn’t have turned out so good for the group. Doug is the one who shines the laser pointer in Andy’s eyes when he’s got ahold of Duck, giving Lee the advantage of attack. Without that, if Lee tried anything, he would’ve ended up like dingdong Kenny with a bullet in his side. 

Also there’s just a lot of bravery from Doug, y’know? Like as soon as he finds Lee and knows the situation, the first thing he asks is what can they do to help, and he sticks around to do what he can.... even if it is just to point a laser in someone’s eye. 

No one gives Doug enough credit for savin’ the day, y’know? And if you have any doubt, even Lee says, “I never thought a laser pointer would be the thing that saved our lives.”

3. Doug’s friendship with Lee

Speaking of Lee, his friendship with Doug is underrated. The two have chemistry and work off each other well in the scene’s they’re in. While it’s not as strong as Carley’s in ep1, saving Doug and having around in ep2 & ep3 lets you see it at it’s best, y’know? 

After Lee saves his life at the drugstore, Doug is shown to mourn Carley and asks Lee why he would pick him, lamenting that he wished he had picked her over him and you can tell that Doug feels that he owes Lee a lot for saving him. Hell, he even says as much when Lee tries to give him food in ep2-- “Why don't you keep my share today. I know I said it didn't matter why you saved me and not Carley, but... I owe you a lot more than half a day's rations."

Also, I love this one line from Kenny when you’re on bad terms with him and they’re talking about going separate ways where he’s basically like “We all know Doug’s gonna stay with you because you saved him that ONE time >:(” and on top of it being such a bitchy Kenny line, it also shows that every can see that Doug is a loyal friend to Lee and would want to stick with him where ever he decides to go. 

One thing that I think people tend to overlook, though, is how concerned Lee is with Doug’s mental health in ep3. There are implications that Doug might be suffering with depression due to the situation of the walkers, bandits harrassing and threatening them, and believing that he isn’t useful to the group, stating that he feel pretty worthless. Lee asks Clementine if he seems sad, and hell, he even talks to Lilly about it.

In fact, speaking of Clementine, Doug is real sweet with her, too. Of course, he gives her those batteries for her walkie, but he also asks about how she’s doing as they’re leaving the dairy. Hell, 8 years later, Clementine still remembers him by name and how sweet he was when fucking dingdong Lilly can’t remember his damn name. That says a lot. 

Y’all know how important Clementine is to Lee, so he wouldn’t have grown as close to Doug if he wasn’t a genuinely good person who treated Clementine with kindess. 

I dunno, there’s a lot of trust and care between the two and it’s a relationship that I truly love. I just wish we could’ve seen a bit more of it but y’know...#2 happened. 

2. Doug saved Ben’s life

Yeah, I think we all saw this coming...

Look, doesn’t matter what you think about Ben, okay? Not what we’re talkin’ about. We’re talkin’ about Doug saving Ben’s life, which unfortunately meant ending his own.

Still haven’t forgiven Lilly for this one. Though I’ve always found the difference between Doug and Carley’s death’s interesting. With Carley, Lilly intentionally kills her after Carley tells her off. But with Doug, Lilly was aiming for Ben and even when Doug pulled him out of the way, she still fired the gun... even though she didn’t have a clear shot and ended up hitting Doug. 

Then she tries to play it off like it was an accident which, yeah I guess it was but that doesn’t change that you were intending to murder this 6ft tall child. 

It’s just... I dunno, man, it’s sad. I always feel more sorrow for Doug’s death, but more anger for Carley’s? Even though both make me angry, it’s just different characters, different things that led to their deaths, different feelings. This is the first real “Fuck you, Lilly” moment for me and she can spend the next 8 years wandering around for all I can. 

Doug didn’t deserve this shit. 

But, the reason I put this at #2 because it really says a lot about Doug as a character. The second he saw Lilly aim that gun, he yanked Ben out of the way. He could’ve gone into shock, he could’ve just yelled “no!”, or he could’ve gone at Lilly instead.... but no, his first instinct was to grab Ben and move himself in front and it really fucking sucks that that’s what killed him. 

And y’know this isn’t the first time Doug has put himself in danger to save someone. I already talked about him saving everyone at the dairy, but can we not forget how he and Carley met? She was gonna get eaten by walkers then our big hero Doug came in and saved her?? Didn’t know her or anything, just saw her and her crew getting attacked and did what he could to save any survivors?? 

Like... no one talks about that because it’s so played off and never brought up again and I need everyone to remember this, okay? 

Doug selflessly putting himself in danger to help those around him? Fantastic. Beautiful. Love that.

1. Look, Doug himself is just #1. His personality, intelligence, everything.

Wow, Doug’s personality being the #1 reason he’s so great? Who woulda thought?

Well, ME woulda thought because obviously.

Listen... in case you haven’t gather this from the previous four entries, Doug is an intelligent, awkward, caring, selfless, funny, and brave man, okay? He’s likable, he tries his damnedest to pull his weight for the group, he shows actual loyalty and kindness unlike some people, and when he tends to avoid the constant Lilly and Kenny conflicts, he does his best to step in when things take a serious turn, hence the Ben situation. 

No to mention the dude is smart. 

I mean, he really took a random remote and was like, “Oh it’s universal, let me just program it to work on ALL the random TV’s across the street as a way to distract these walkers!” like dude.... you just know how to do that, huh? 

Or his fun little bell trap that alerts the groups of strangers and walkers? Oh, and remember when he fixed the RV by hitting it with a fucking hammer and was like “It works now, drive!” 

And have I mentioned that he bested Andy St John with a goddamn laser pointer?? 

Oh, also wanna add that I really like his voice acting, as well. He’s voiced by Sam Joan, who does a good job at selling Doug’s soft-spoken but intelligent nature, and knows how to pull off “dorky” when needed... and I mean that in a good way, when he’s talking about charcoal Doug is being a dork and I love him.

I mean... what else is there to say?

All that’s left to do is pull a Telltale and--

#SaveDoug

---

Honorable Mentions

-Doug is a pie guy, going off of that time he named all the different kinds of pie he could thing of and I feel that.  -He’s a very fashionable person. I want that weird polar bear deer thing shirt he wears in ep1.  -also, you can’t go wrong with socks and sandals, my dude.  -He had a crush on Carley and honestly, I feel that, too. 

---

There it is, there’s my whole thing about Doug. What are your thoughts? When it comes to that choice in ep1 of s1, do you save Doug or do you save Carley? Do you agree or disagree with any of my choices for this list? Or have anything to add? I’m always down to chat.

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

—

Next week’s T5F

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Longing

Chapter 1

Description: Chris Evans becomes obsessed with you when he realises he can't have you. Eager to be with you in some form or the other, he starts writing fanfiction, where both of you are passionately in love with each other. But what happens when his imagination starts to merge with his reality in his subconsciousness?

Warnings: This entire mini-series will contain smut, bad language and angst. ONLY PROCEED IF YOU ARE 18+

This first chapter is inspired by the GIF below from @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 's ShamelessHoesForChris writing challenge. Click here to know more

A/N: I do not know Chris Evans personally. This fic is a work of imagination and should only be used as such. It doesn't comment on Chris or anybody else personally. It is also not meant to destroy his reputation or paint him in a bad light. I admire the guy and he really seems like a genuinely nice person. Again, I repeat, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION SO TREAT IT AS SUCH!

A/N 2: I did search quite a lot on the internet and didn't come across a fic like this. Which makes me nervous and also kind of excited that I get to do something unique? Please please give me your criticism and feedback on this! Would love to hear your thoughts.

A/N 3: I have used a few big words throughout the series because this fic is from Chris' POV and we all know that he's a bit of a wordsmith 😅 I had never even heard these words before in my life. So please let me know if I have used them in an incorrect manner. 

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

The best thing about shooting Defending Jacob? Chris got to stay in his house in Boston. The worst part about working on the set? He was currently stuck in a room engulfed in hot, angry flames of fire. The fire had abruptly started due to a short circuit and spread across the set in the blink of an eye. Coughing, Chris doubled down on the floor, his breathing becoming more laboured with each second. 

The smoke stung his eyes as he looked around for a fire extinguisher. He tried calling for help, but only small grunts managed to escape his lips. Just as he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he heard a voice. Your voice.

"Is anyone here?" you called out, your voice faint in his ears. "Hello?" 

Chris tried to shout again, but only sank further towards the floor.

Luckily, you opened the door of his room and found his almost crumpled body on the ground. Using the fire extinguisher, you managed to douse as many flames as you could, while also covering Chris with a thick blanket. As the room was still filled with smoke, you pressed a wet towel on his face, asking him to breathe through his nose. 

Slowly, you managed to drag him out of the room and into the corridor, the fire reduced to embers in most places thanks to your fire extinguisher. Chris being a heavy man, you tried your best to support his weight as much as you could, your body almost stooping to form a right angle.

Just as you thought you might be in the clear, you heard a crack from above. Looking up, you realised that the ceiling was about to cave in and so, on impulse, you pushed Chris out of the way, as portions of the false ceiling fell on you, knocking you unconscious. 

Chris, in his state, vaguely realised what happened, before he lost his balance and fell to the ground a few feet away from you, his left arm stretched towards your limp body, as if reaching out.

Sirens of the firetruck and the ambulance filled the heavy air. A deep groan escaped his lips as he attempted to crawl towards you, a failed effort. Where did it all go so wrong? he thought. I was supposed to be the one to save you angel! You should be falling in love with me!! And break-up with your good for nothing fiancé! 

Overwhelmed with emotions, Chris started drifting off to sleep, your name leaving his lips in the form of a desperate whisper.

🔥

8 MONTHS AGO

Chris met you for the first time at the table read for Defending Jacob. You didn't strike him as anyone special. Being the Junior Assistant Scriptwriter for the series, you were just in the room as a formality. It was your job to jot down the minutes of the meeting, and have the parts of the script marked which were supposed to be changed slightly. 

You managed to stay invisible for more such meetings. An introvert by nature, you kept to yourself even when the shooting started. 

It was in the Week 4 of the shooting when Chris actually started to notice you. He realised you were always absent from his house parties, never stayed around on the set for after-work shenanigans and, you never hung out with any of your crew-mates for a drink.

What really drove his attention towards you were your random acts of kindness. He once saw you feeding a homeless man in the alley behind the set. Unknown to you, it was where Chris often hid from his cast and crew to smoke. 

Then there was the bit with setting up of a mobile blood donation camp on the set, which was completely your idea. He had also seen you distribute fliers for animal adoption centres and NGOs who fought for climate preservation.

You always made sure everyone on the set ate before you did, and the ones who couldn't due to work, you were sure to help them and share their load so they could have lunch.

But one particular incident made him see that you were no ordinary woman. 

It was a particularly tough day on the set. They were shooting the 35-second sex scene between him and Michelle. While these scenes looked easy on the screen, they always made Chris feel uneasy about himself. "What if my body is not upto the mark?" , "I don't want to hurt Michelle in any way" , "God I hope I don't touch her inappropriately by mistake" and more such troubling thoughts clawed at his mind. After the scene finally ended, he felt the lustful eyes of the crew feasting on him, admiring his body on display. 

He hurried towards his van, avoiding to look at anyone, until his eyes met yours for a total of 5 seconds. He expected to see the same smirk to be reflected in your eyes as everyone else's. Instead, he saw a completely different emotion. He saw sadness, sympathy, and most importantly, recognition of his discomfort etched on your face.

After that, Chris started to keep a close eye on you. You always wore comfortable clothes, with loads of pockets. Yet somehow, they always fit you well. He also noticed that you always got your own lunch, refusing to eat the food available on the set. 

A few days after filming the sex scene, he decided to try to speak with you. Palms sweaty, he headed towards you and gently said your name. 

"Hi," he said, and stopped. 

"Hello Mr Evans," you greeted him back, a little surprised that he knew your name. 

He continued to look at you, bright cerulean eyes bearing into yours, apparently lost. You blinked twice, unfazed, and a little uncomfortable, "Can I help you sir?"

Chris shook his head slightly. He was so used to women fawning all over him, that your utter lack of excitement on seeing him deterred him a bit. 

He cleared his throat, a little flustered, *Ahem yeah… I wanted to ask… something… karaoke!" he managed to mumble, "It's karaoke night at my house. Tomorrow. Will you come? At night?"

"Umm… No Mr Evans. I am sorry I will not be able to make it," you politely declined while taking a small step back.

"Oh. Uhh… well we can have it any other night if you want," he cleared his throat again, sweat starting to gather on his forehead as he noticed your movement, "You never visit any of my house-parties."

You smiled a bit, "I like to go home early. I want to spend as much time as I can with my fiancé and my cat."

Chris raised his eyebrows at that revelation, "Fiancé? I… I don't see a ring."

"That's because there isn't one," your smile widened as you pulled the chain around your neck and revealed a locket. It was an intricately carved sunflower locket, with small, delicate curls nestled inside the petals. 

Chris glanced at it with disdain. It looked hand-made, cheap, "Is that… is it made from clay?"

"Yes Mr Evans," you beamed at the locket, admiring it with love and pride, "My fiancé is a potter and he made this himself. It took him over 6 hours just to carve all the petals. But he still made it because he knows how much I love sunflowers."

"So he's too poor to give you an appropriate ring?" Chris snapped at you. 

Offended, you looked at him in shock and anger as he continued. "You deserve someone who can afford to give you an expensive engagement ring. Not some cheap craft project."

You grit your teeth at his comment, "Unlike some people, I don't look at the price of the gifts, I look at their value. While this," you held the locket in front of his eyes, "is worthless for you, it is priceless for me."

You placed the locket back inside your shirt and walked away. Chris stood rooted at the spot, biting his cheek hollow. He hadn't meant to drive you away. He had just wanted you to see him as a prospective partner. 

As he turned towards his trailer, an idea popped into his head.

🔥

Next Friday saw you and your fiancé walk into the bowling alley. The production house had organised a "Bring Your Partner to Work Day" and you both were excited to step out of your routine lives. 

A few people on the set recognised your fiancé Aiden from his YouTube channel. Kenneth, an Assistant Set Designer, drooled over him, "Maaahhnnn! I love your pottery videos! They are so calming dude. How do you make them so relaxing?"

The ever shy and soft-spoken Aiden gushed at the compliment, turning a shade of red which you always found adorable. Aiden was almost the same height as you, with a lean figure and a kind, freckled face. Your friends always told you that Aiden's looks were nothing to brag about, but you disagreed. Because for you, this man was the most handsomest, cutest and sexiest person in the world. 

And you knew he felt the same way about you. That's why, even after being together for almost 5 years now, you two still looked at each other with heart eyes.

As the party progressed, you made sure to avoid Chris, and so far, you were successful. That was until he softly said your name. 

With dread in your stomach, you and Aiden turned around to face the man. Aiden knew of your previous encounter with Chris, and tried to square his shoulders as much as possible, but Chris' towering physique and personality literally made it impossible for Aiden to appear tough.

You gave Chris a curt nod and received a sweet smile in response. 

"I believe I owe you an apology," he confessed, "I am sorry. My behavior that day was inexcusable." He paused for reaction, but looking at your hesitant faces, he continued, "It was quite a hectic day on the set and I guess I took it all out on you," he looked towards you, "You know I am capricious by nature. It takes me some time to become gregarious. But," he raised his hands in the air, "I repeat, the way I acted was inexcusable. I am sorry."

He extended his arm towards Aiden, "You are a porter I believe."

"Potter, sir," Aiden corrected while shaking his hand and introducing himself.

You bit your tongue, knowing that Chris was mocking you with his false apology. 

He invited Megan to join the conversation, "Megan loves handmade ceramics. Maybe she would be interested in your work."

Introductions were made again, and as the conversation pursued, it arrived at the topic of your marriage.

"Have you guys decided on a date yet?" asked Megan as Chris looked at you. 

"We are planning to get married as soon as the shooting ends for DJ," you smiled.

"Oh really? Wow that's… unusual," Megan tried her best to hide her surprise.

"We don't know exactly when will the shooting end," Chris said with a frown on his face.

"That's not an issue Mr Evans. We are actually planning to get married at the courthouse," revealed Aiden.

"You know if money is an issue then we would be more than happy to help you guys out," Chris offered in a sincere tone. 

"Oh no no Mr Evans. Money isn't an issue," you clarified, "We have decided to donate the money we had intended to spend on the wedding."

"But thank you so much for the generous offer, we really appreciate it," Aiden added with a sincere smile.

"You know a lot of couples are doing that nowadays. It's a trend I believe," Megan commented, "Where are you going to make the donation?"

"The local orphanage where I grew up. We both love kids and, it just seemed to be the perfect choice," Aiden beamed at you. 

You mirrored his expression while Chris scowled. "I think everybody should get the wedding of their dreams, and you" he stated, pointing towards you, "deserve much more than a courthouse wedding. Don't you want to get married in a beautiful church? Walk down the aisle in a gorgeous white gown? And get married to a man who can actually fulfill your wishes and desires?"

Squaring your shoulders, you looked at Chris dead in the eye, "I am marrying the man of my dreams Mr Evans. The wedding ceremony doesn't matter to me. What does matter is the beautiful life we will begin together. Now if you will excuse us," you linked your arm with Aiden's, "we need to leave."

Chris watched you leave as Megan tried to distract him with something else. Tonight did not go the way he had anticipated.

He left the party shortly after you, directly heading for his home. Standing under the cold shower, he tried to reason with himself. He was acting out of character. There was no reason for his behavior. You had made it ample clear that you loved your fiancé and that nobody in the world could sway you.

Then why was he so hell-bent on claiming you as his?

Because she's perfect for you, a voice answered him. 

Yeah, but she belongs to someone else, he argued.

So what?, the voice urged, Fight for her. You saw her wimp of a fiancé. You can break him into two pieces without breaking a sweat. She is made for you. Just you, and nobody else.

"I… Just… No," Chris stammered loudly as he shook his head, trying to get rid of the voice in his mind.

He tried to meditate, but it didn't work. Dodger too, was unable to distract him. Even his books on self-help and mental health were of no use.

As a last resort, he opened his laptop, but his fingers halted at the search bar, the cursor blinking back at him.

He was too tempted to search for you again. The last time he had Googled you, he had been satisfied with the results. You often volunteered with a few NGOs, coordinated multiple donation drives, visited orphanages and taught underprivileged children. His heart had melted at a particular photograph- you were holding an 8-month-old girl in your arms, while looking over a painting drawn by a 4-year-old boy as the child looked up at you with a toothy smile. 

It reminded him of everything he wanted to have, but still couldn't. 

He closed his eyes and started kneading his forehead with his palms. Everybody he knew always only had the best things about him. Right from Scarlett to Mark to Olivia to every fucking person he had ever worked with, everybody said he deserved to have a loving wife, a stable family. 

And yet, here he was, on a Friday night, home alone with a beer bottle, on the verge of anxiety. 

Was it just anxiety though?

Who the fuck is Aiden and why does he deserve to be with her? the voice in his head was back.

They love each other, they want to get married, Chris reasoned.

He doesn't hold a candle next to you, the voice persisted, People love money more than they love others. She will come to you. But you need to let her know you are available. You need to take her to-

"No," Chris interrupted the voice loudly, "No. This is unhealthy. No."

Reaching for his phone, he searched for his therapist's number, when the voice chuckled, You really think a shrink is going to help you with this? Eh? They are only going to ask you to fuck another pussy, or read more books. And I will be damned before you touch another book about trees. 

Chris shook his head again, but in vain. Unable to find the number in his contacts, he turned to Google for the second time that night and started searching for therapists in his area. The voice tut-ted, Yeah, as if the psycho doctor is going to shut their trap about Chris Evans crying over a girl.

Chris almost crushed his bottle in frustration. He couldn't let the voice take over. Not now. Not after working his ass off to get where wanted in his career. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the screen again and came across the headline- "Why Do People Write Fanfiction?" The word fanfiction seemed vaguely familiar to him. He was going to ignore the article and scroll downwards, but the brief underneath the headline made him stop- …mostly, people write fanfiction to stay in touch with the characters they love," says leading Psychologist Andrea Williams.

Intrigued, he opened the article and started reading. Then he opened another, and another and by the time he was done, he had read 6-7 articles on the concept of fanfiction and what it entailed.

Sighing, he opened a new word document. He was reluctant to type a letter, let alone a whole fictional story. He had tried everything and yet, you chose to occupy a rent-free space in his mind. 

Now all he needed was a reference.

He minimised the document, and opened a new tab on his browser. His hesitant fingers typed the words - Chris Evans Fanfiction - into the search bar, and he instantly winced.

Millions of search results were displayed before him, and as he read the descriptions of each one of them, he realised that 99% of these stories were porn. There was no sugar-coating it. On the 5th page of the search results, he luckily found a story sans the erotica. It was a cute one-shot about him going on a first date with the reader. He read it with squinted eyes, afraid that a sex scene might jump out of the blue, but luckily, nothing of the sort happened. 

Chris liked reading it. It was an innocent story filled with romance. 

But the only problem? It was written from the reader's point of view. He checked a few others, and realised they were all written from the women's perspective, not his.

He sat back in his chair, turning his head such that he was looking at the ceiling, contemplating his options. 

You want her, the voice whispered.

Reluctantly, he typed the first word that came to his mind. Your name. 

Chris rested his chin on his palm, wondering where to start. If this were fiction, would tonight have gone different? Would you have visited his house for karaoke that night? 

Tapping his fingers on the desk, he bit his tongue in thought. Thinking it was better to start at the beginning, he started typing from his POV-

The first time I saw her I thought she was pretty. I saw her during meetings and the shooting. Then one day I saw her giving food to a homeless man-

Deleting his words, Chris shook his head. This was insane! Right? You were a real human being and it was unethical of him to write this! He needed to learn to handle his feelings. 

If you don't have the balls to fight for her, then be with her in the stories you write. Grow a spine Evans, whispered the insulting voice.

Hesitating, he tried to write another paragraph, which ended up getting deleted. 

Try again, the voice coaxed him. Pour your heart into this. Write better. 

Taking a sip of the beer, Chris started typing again-

It was lunchtime when I saw her arranging some equipment on the table. Her back was facing me as I carefully approached her, afraid to startle her. I breathed in her scent, light, floral and fresh, before whispering her name.

She turned around, a bit surprised to see me, but she smiled nevertheless. Oh gosh her smile. I had seen her smile a few times on the set, but in person, it took my breath away. 

"Hi," I managed to greet her shyly. She matched my response.

"I was wondering if you would like to sing karaoke with me? There's a karaoke party tonight at my house if you would like to come," I asked her hopefully.

Her expression turned remorseful as she apologised, "I cannot come Mr Evans. My fiancé won't let me."

Imagine my surprise when I found out about her fiancé. "I didn't know about your fiancé. Why won't he let you come?" I asked her, concerned as she started sniffing a bit.

"He's… he's very strict Mr Evans. He doesn't like it when I go out with my fri-friends or co-workers," she shared between her light sobs.

My heart broke into pieces on hearing her confession. I had often noticed her taciturn behaviour on the set, but I had no idea about the reason behind it.

I raised my hands to cup her face. I was itching to wipe her tears with my lips, but instead, I used my thumbs. 

"I want to help you. Please let me," I requested.

"Nobody can help me Mr Evans. I am stuck with a monster." She pulled a chain from underneath her shirt and I got a glimpse at the marks on her neck. "Aiden gave me this chain and locket instead of an engagement ring. He said it will be better than a ring. And now he-" she started sobbing harder. I pulled her into my chest, running my right hand through her hair as my left hand soothed her back.

"And now he uses it as a leash," my angel whispered, horrified, "he says I do not deserve a ring."

I hugged her tighter and thankfully, she buried her face in my chest, "You are no longer stuck with him. Are you listening to me?" I bent my face to bring my lips near her ears, "I will make sure that you are free of him."

She shook her head, reluctantly pulling away from me, "No Mr Evans. I cannot-"

"Yes you can," I interrupted her. "You are going to come to my house for karaoke tonight. Message Aiden right now, and tell him that I will be dropping you home. Okay?"

After some coaxing, she agreed. I held her close as she typed out the message, her hands shaking around her mobile phone. Finally she clicked on the SEND button.

I brushed a kiss on her forehead, "Wait for me in the back alley after the shoot, okay? I will pick you up from there."

She nodded gratefully in response.

I couldn't wait for the shoot to be over that day. In my eagerness, I even messed up a few takes, mumbling over my lines like an idiot. But eventually, I got through the day. 

I was excited when I picked her up after the shoot. I could see she was nervous and maybe a little bit scared, but she still entered my car anyway. So I made small talk with her and tried to put her mind at ease.

Finally, when we reached my house, she was in awe. 

"This is the most beautiful house I have ever seen Mr Evans," she gasped as I led her inside, "I don't think I have ever seen anything like it before!"

I chuckled, "I am happy you like it. It… it just feels empty sometimes, you know? I find loneliness ubiquitous in this house."

You looked at her puzzled expression and smiled. "Ubi-what was that word Mr Evans?" 

"Ubiquitous," I replied, "it means something that is present and is found everywhere."

"Ahh okay," she nodded, "thank you for teaching me."

"I will accept your gratitude only on one condition."

She tilted her head ever so slightly, "And what would that be Mr Evans?"

I smiled as I slightly bent down and held her hand, "You need to start calling me Christopher."

Visibly flustered, my angel looked down at her feet. "I-I can't Mr Evans," she said in a low voice.

"Why can't you?"

"I respect you too much sir," she confessed.

"Hey," I gently nudged her forehead with mine, "I want you to say my name. Please?" 

I stared into her eyes as she met mine. God.

There was something about her eyes that was absolutely riveting. The depth of her eyes pulled me in towards her as I read the plethora of emotions hidden within them. Her gaze searched my face for malice, deceit, but only found love and trust in return.

I slowly cupped her face as her breath hitched in her chest. I could feel my own heart race. Bringing my face as close as I could to hers, I whispered, the distance between our lips fast closing, "Please."

She parted her lips ever so slightly. I felt her warm breath on mine as she obliged, "Christopher."

I closed my eyes as I heard the most melodious symphony, my name draped in her sweet voice.

I dipped my head to kiss her, feel the shape of her lips, but she stepped back.

"I-I am st-still engaged Chris-Christopher," she stammered.

I straightened myself, my hands no longer cupping her face, "I understand. I am sorry. Would you like-"

Before I could finish, a car honked outside. While I was curious at the intrusion, her eyes widened with fear. 

"That's him," she gasped, "Aiden is here. He found me."

"How is that possible?"

"He has a location app installed on my phone through which he tracks my location," she revealed, visibly shaking at the thought of greeting her fiancé.

"Stay here. You will be safe inside. Let me handle him," I said, squeezing her shoulders.

I walked out of the house and towards the car. The vehicle didn't look in good shape, it's owner even more so.

Aiden manually rolled down his window and spat on the ground. Fumes of cheep alcohol and stale cigarette smoke escaped through the window. "Where is she?" he hollered.

"That's not your concern anymore. She's breaking up with you," I crossed my arms and stood facing him. "If you know what's good for you, you will leave her alone and stay out of her life."

Aiden exited the car at that threat, the door of the vehicle rattled as he opened it. "She said that?" he scoffed, "Color me surprised, I thought the little mouse had no fight left in her. Bring her out here. I want to hear," he wriggled a finger at me, "whatever the fuck you are saying from her own fucking mouth."

"Not going to happen Aiden. You followed her here against her own wishes. Now scoot off before I call the cops," I warned.

"You think I will be scared of some Hollywood prick who shits diamonds?" he sneered. 

"No. But you should be scared of the law. You are currently harassing the owner of this private property, not to mention you have clearly abused your girlfriend mentally, emotionally and physically. So be sensible," I took a step towards him, "and fuck off."

"STOP," she shouted as she trusted towards us. She stood in front of me, as if to guard me from her monster of a fiancé, "Please don't hurt him. I will come with you. Just let him be," she pleaded with him as he smirked. 

Before he could react, I pulled her behind me, making sure my body was shielding her from Aiden.

"She's a gold-digging bitch. You stay away from her," he pointed at me as he tried to reach her. 

I pushed him away once and kept my hand on his weak, thin torso. Turning my head, I asked her for the last time, "Are you sure you want to go with him? I can save you. I will protect you, provide for you and keep you happy!" I urged her.

She looked at me with hope and helplessness. Slowly, she glanced at Aiden who looked like he was ready to commit murder. Sobbing uncontrollably, she removed the chain with the sunflower locket and threw it at his feet. 

"Leave me alone," she managed to mumble at him.

Furious, Aiden growled and tried to pounce at her. Fortunately, I intervened on time and punched his sorry excuse of a face into the ground. 

She gasped as Aiden fell with a thud. Embarrassed, he slowly got up and dusted himself, muttering under his breath as he sat inside his wreck of a car. 

"Don't bother coming back to gather your stuff! I am burning it all tonight you cock-sucking bitch!" and with that outburst, Aiden was finally gone.

She was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably at what had just transpired. I wrapped her in my arms to let her know she was safe. Within moments, I felt her ease into my body. 

I closed my eyes and smiled, my nose buried into her hair. My angel was safe. My angel was mine.

Chris blinked his eyes as he re-read his story. He already felt a whole lot lighter, his anxiety at ease, and mind exhausted. Clicking on SAVE, he finished the last of his beer and went to sleep, hoping that this was the end to his problems. Little did he know about the horrors that awaited him, behind the door he had just opened by writing that fictional story.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Chris Evans and his characters taglist: @onetwo3000

This story: @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @carpediemm-18

(If you guys don't want to be tagged in this, just let me know. No hard feelings 😊)

Taglists are open! Just comment, send an ask or a message!

[themonotonysyndrome]

Time of Realisation

Happy New Year, everyone! May 2021 be everything you ever wanted. Since I just finished writing for part 8 of this series, I wanted to post this one a bit earlier than the usual Fridays as a New Year’s Treat. So here we go! Part 7 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ is here. 

(My Premium Grammarly account disappeared all of the sudden so please excuse any stupid grammatical or spelling errors you might find. I’ve edited this chapter thrice now and it should be ok??) 

Before we start, we must do our ritual and give thanks to the ever amazing @tri3tri for letting us all expand on her Draconia Family series. Hope you’ll have a great year as well, Tri-senpai! 

-

“To be honest with you Ren, I don’t remember much about Sebek. Just his voice. I still remember how loud his shouts were.” 

“Eh, don’t sweat it too much. Take it as a blessing.” 

Renata and Sherrie are in her room. The underwater aesthetic of Octavinelle is so beautiful to take in from the inside. It almost makes Renata wish that she’s a mermaid. Or a killer whale type of mermaid. Now that is a badass merfolk. 

Just like Renata, Sherrie was given a room all to herself instead of sharing it with a dorm member due to her gender. 

And her little sister did not waste time transforming her room just like her old one back at their home. Already her gaming computer has been set up on her study table, cosmetic sets of well-known brands - Nyx, My Pretty Zombie, and Fenty Beauty - are organised neatly on her shelves beside the standard textbooks and stationeries. One of the open drawers beside her cupboard full of her school uniforms as well as her Pastel Goth clothes display tins of green teas and stacks of instant foods. 

Clearly, Sherrie has made herself right at home in Octavinelle. And less than a week too! 

Actually, how much luggage did Sherrie brought from their home? 

After the Entrance Ceremony, Renata waited two days for Sherrie to acclimate herself to Night Raven College, letting her talk to some of her dorm members, get a feel on the teachers before slipping into her bedroom to catch up. It was a mild surprise to see the state of her room after her little sister told her to plant her ass on the bed while she prepared a pot of hot green tea for them. 

While she’s busy with the kettle, Renata wasted no time to explain what Ace told her during Winter’s Break when she inquired about Sebek. It was good to know that due to the dense magic in the Country of Thorns, technology is almost non-existent in the land due to magical interference. It also helps that despite being in the First-Year Forever group chat, Sebek barely checks his phone at all. Over time, Ace and the rest of their group forgot that Sebek is even in the group chat! 

“Still, it’s good to know that Mama’s friends drifted away from Sebek over the years. That’ll help us a lot in the long run.” Sherrie commented after Renata wraps up her report. She handed a cup of tea to Renata and lean against her study table, facing the bed where her older sister is cooling her hot tea by channeling ice magic onto her fingertips. “What about the student body here? What are they like?” 

“Everyone walks around as if they got a twelve-inch dick.” Renata’s sarcasm is as thick as the kelp forest outside of Sherrie’s bedroom window. 

Sherrie couldn’t help but laugh at her deadpan tone; she had to put her cup of tea on the table before it spilled everywhere. “That bad, huh?” She giggles helplessly, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes. 

Renata was about to roll her eyes but stop herself and ponders. Despite their flaws, Hoyle and Rex are good friends. Hell, even Bakari vibes with her. Not quite friendly, but he hasn’t yet turned her away when she scurries over to intrude herself in whatever he’s currently doing. That, and she secretly enjoys finding little treats and snacks in her backpack after hanging out with him. “Ok, some of them aren’t so bad once you can get past their ego. Remind me to introduce Hoyle and Rex to you soon.” 

Sherrie raises an eyebrow. “And what about that one guy who keeps giving you food?”  

“You’ll see him around.” 

“...Right.” Sherrie eyed her older sister with a knowing look when Renata nonchalantly shrugs. She’ll get back to that little topic later. “Have you prepare the little surprise for Mama?” 

“Yup.” Renata affirmed and took a sip of her tea. She lets out a happy, little sigh when warmth travels across her body. “We’ll do it this weekend. That’s the only time that they’re free.” 

The two talk a little more until Renata had to leave when curfew looms. The passing Octavinelle students gave her a side-eye for a few seconds but otherwise, no one batted an eye at seeing a Diasomnia student walking about their dorms. The whole school is aware that Renata and Sherrie are siblings by now. Renata wonders if her sister will receive the same cold politeness because of their horns. 

Meanwhile, as Renata made her way to her own dorm, Sherrie is scrutinising the lock on her door with a frown. The previous used cups and teapot are all washed up and the lights are dim slightly since she’s planning to hit the bed right after she figures out how to secure her room thoroughly. There are just too many sensitive and important information about their family and plans against their father kept here. She straightens her back and tosses a glance at the computer and tablet lying on the table beside it. Sherrie had made sure to cultivate a habit of not storing the complete set of important materials in a single device - one can never be too careful after all. Especially when there’s a dorm here dedicate to Technomages. Hmm... perhaps she should befriend one of the students of Ignihyde to help her with the security of her electronic devices? 

Though there’s still an issue with the simple lock of her door. Anyone can just force it open with a pick. Sherrie made a mental note to consult with her sister for some sort of spell that can solve this problem. 

And with that, she quickly changes into a simple loose shirt and a pair of shorts before slipping under the duvet and turns in for the night. 

Life as a halfling and an Octavinelle student quickly proves to be unlike anything Sherrie has ever experience. 

Renata offhandedly advises her to shrug it off when her dorm members stare at her horns a little too long; they’ll get used to her soon enough. Sherrie cursed under her breath when her sister left and wondered if she could attend her classes virtually instead, but when she brought that up to her Dorm Leader, the shark merman raised an eyebrow and simply asked her if she’s an Octavinelle student or Ignihyde’s. Needless to say, Sherrie set on digging any dirt she can find on her Dorm Leader ASAP. 

Other than the uncomfortable stares and shady Dorm Leader - Sherrie quite enjoys the scarf that comes with her uniform - as well as her dorm leader, tend to keep it to themselves. Underneath the polite offers of tutelage in classes and tours around Mostro Lounge, Sherrie can blatantly pick up the insinuation underneath those favours. 

A favour for a favour - that’s how life in Octavinelle works. Information is worth more than Madols and dealings under the table is practically the norm. 

Sherrie adapts in Night Raven College faster than Renata ever could. 

Speaking of Madols, Sherrie needed to do something about their financial situations in Twisted Wonderland. Currency exchange is not a thing here so their dollars are practically worthless. Fortunately, Octavinelle expects its dorm members to pull their weights in Mostro Lounge. By the second week she’s in Night Raven College, her Dorm Leader already distributed the First Year’s schedule of their shifts around the café. The pay might not be much but it’s a good start. 

There’s got to be a Twisted Wonderland equivalent of Youtube. She made mad revenue as a Youtuber and game streamer back home. 

Today, Sherrie is working at Mostro Lounge with several other First Year students from other dorms. Customers flooded in during lunchtime and kept her busy manning behind the bar, preparing drinks and desserts. 

“Presentation my ass...” Sherrie mumbled under her breath as she struggles to beautify the ice-cream sundae. She had to redo the whole thing when one of the staff - her Third Year senior - saw how plain her work was and taught her to make an art out of the dessert. 

She was in the midst of deciding how many cherries would be enough to make the sundae look prettier when a rich, baritone voice broke her concentration. “Has the ice-cream offend you in some way, MC/S-san?” 

Sherrie moves her face away from the towering glass to see a fellow dorm member smiling at her. How curious, his eyes are like hot, molten gold. 

“No. I was just adding some finishing touches.” Sherrie reply, her voice remained neutral. She hasn’t seen this one around before. 

Her dorm member continues to smile. It comes across as calculative instead of genuine. Renata would’ve spat fire at him already. “My, it looks wonderful. I’ll be sure to inform the customer that his sundae is prepared by your meticulous hand. I’m sure he’ll forgive you for the time he had to wait.” 

Sherrie promptly turns around to store back the cherries into the fridge to hide her smirk. This nobody came forward trying to pick a fight with her? This could be fun. “I’m more than happy to receive our customer if he has any complaint with his sundae.” 

“I’ll be sure to inform him.” He nods once and place the sundae on a tray and left the bar. Sherrie made sure to keep an eye on him after that. 

He’s tall, taller than her, and play the perfect part of a waiter with ease. As if he grew up in this sort of environment. The way how he balances two heavy laden trays of food and drinks on his palms while weaving in between tables, greeting the customers with an impeccable smile is telling. This guy mastered the art of customer service for sure. 

“Who’s the hotshot?” Sherrie asked her partner as she carefully wipes the clean glasses. Her shift partner - a Second Year manta ray merman, who was kind enough to introduce herself to her without any subtle jeer - glances at Sherrie’s line of sight, and his mouth made a small ‘o’. 

“That’s Amber Leech. He’s one of the promising First Year students we got, according to the Vice Dorm Leader. You’re more of a wild card, though. Dorm Leader still doesn’t know what to think of you.” 

Sherrie ignores that titbit about herself; she just hums. Didn’t Mama mention that she knows a Leech? “He’s good at handling the customers, I’ll give him that.” Sherrie admits, stacking the last dry glass onto the rack before her attention is capture by a server with a list of orders. Sherrie was too preoccupied with her job to scrutinised Amber any further after that.  

Later when a Scarabia student relieved her of her shift with a quick exchange of pleasantries, instead of leaving, Sherrie decided to stick around and enjoy some free food in the kitchen. As long as she stayed out of the way, no one really minded her presence. 

“Good job today, Leech-san. You can join MC/S-san in the kitchen if you’re hungry.” 

“Thank you very much. I’ll be taking up on your kind offer then.”

Sherrie paused, tilting her head up from her small tub of ice-cream to see none other but Amber Leech step into the kitchen. Their eyes met and his calculative smile greeted her. 

“Is this seat taken?” He politely asks her, gesturing to the vacant chair opposite her. The round table at the back of the kitchen is a bit small, barely enough to fit more than three people but it was far enough away from the kitchen staff so that they won’t be a bother. 

“Knock yourself out.” 

“Very well then.” 

By the time he took out a red bento from the fridge, heat it up and takes a seat near the table, Sherrie has already polished the tub of ice-cream. When Amber noticed the empty tub, he frowns. It was so sudden that Sherrie couldn’t help but defensively blurted out, “What?” 

“Is that all you having for lunch?” There’s a disapproving tone in his voice and Sherrie doesn’t know what to make of it. 

“That? It was a snack. I had my lunch before my shift.” 

For some reason, her dorm mate nodded, strangely pleased at her answer before he tucks into his lunch. By the looks of it, his bento is artfully made with a variety of colourful foods. 

The two said nothing, simply enjoying the clatter of cooking utensils, sizzling fire on the stoves and the cooks hum under their breath. Here in the back of the kitchen, the chatter of customers outside is almost muted. 

It was peaceful. So peaceful in fact, Amber Leech feels like it’s his sworn duty to shatter it. 

“I suggest consulting either Aeacus Shroud or the other students in Ignihyde’s Basic Magical Technology group as your solution. Shroud-san is the only First Year student in that group but I heard he’s the most approachable of the lot.” 

Sherrie’s heart froze. “What?”

Amber took his time to put away his now empty bento, dab the corner of his lip with a folded napkin that was on the table before replying, “For security of course.” 

His answer is vague. Purposely so as he levels a stare at Sherrie. 

“...How do you know that?” Sherrie all but demanded under her faux, indifferent voice. 

Amber dared to smile and point his eyes, no word escape his lips. 

A Unique Magic then. It has to be. Are his similar to Renata’s? 

Sherrie’s mind races, for once, trying to decipher this strange student beside her. 

And suddenly, Sherrie realises who this boy really is. The eyes were a give away.  

“Amber Leech. Jade Leech’s son, I presume?” 

-

“Mama, I’m home!”

“Welcome back, sweetie. How was cheer practice today?”

“It went really well, Mama. We nailed down the new routine without anyone falling off.” Lucien shuts the door close with his feet. He’s sweaty and still in his cheerleading uniform with a duffel bag sling over his shoulder. Seeing that his Mama is nowhere in the living room, Lucien padded into the kitchen. 

The house is, unfortunately, a lot quieter now that his sisters are off at Night Raven College. Before Sherrie left, she and he talk about how their Mama would feel lonely now. Even more so when it’s his turn. 

Lucien assured her that he’ll keep an eye on their Mama closely. 

His friends would playfully tease him that he’s such a Mama’s boy; constantly texting her of his whereabouts, what she and his sisters want from the convenience stores and Mama always make his favourite desserts more often compare to Renata’s apple pies and Sherrie’s matcha cupcakes. 

And Lucien has no shame in being spoiled by their Mama. 

However, when he steps into the kitchen to witness their Mama re-arranging the dishes in the cupboard for the second time this week, it’s time for Mama to be spoiled in return. 

Lucien can’t wait to see her reaction when they spring the surprise tonight. 

“Mama? Do you need some help with the plates?” Lucien asked instead of pointing out the fact that Mama has been restless lately. Without waiting for a reply, Lucien has already dropped his duffel bag to walk around the island counter towards her. 

“It’s alright, Lucy. I’m nearly done here anyway.” MC wave Lucien’s waiting hands away as she pushes the last stack of plates into the lower cabinet and got up. She shot him a smile but it’s wobbly. “Are you hungry, sweetheart? We still have some leftover dinner from last night that I can heat up real quick. Hang on, just give Mama a second to take it out - ”

“Mama, it’s alright. I know. It doesn’t feel the same without Ren and Cherry.” 

MC froze before she got up and smile sadly. The sight made Lucien’s heart clench painfully. “The three of you have always been close to me ever since you were born. Your Father was... many things,” MC grimace but she soldiers on. “But he would never separate your sisters away from me. I’m not sure what to do with myself now that Ren and Cherry are away...” 

Sherrie’s voice suddenly pops in Lucien’s head like how Renata enjoys busting through his door without knocking: “Mama needs a distraction. ASAP! Go, go, go!” 

Renata interjects after her: “Psst! Try something calming yet engaging. That’ll do.” 

Distraction. Right. Lucien can do that for Mama. At least until the surprise tonight. 

“Would Mama help me with my origami? I could use some help with filling up my new empty glass jar.” Lucien suggests. 

MC blink; didn’t expect Lucien to suddenly ask for an extra pair of hands with his hobby, but she took it in stride. “Uh, sure thing, honey.” 

Lucien beams like a blooming sunflower. “I’ll go shower first then. Be right back, Mama!” 

“Don’t run in the house, Lucy!” MC reminded him but lets him went upstairs with a small smile. She needs to get out of this funk. While Lucien is freshening up, might as well finish up her chores for the day. 

By the time Lucien came back down carrying an empty glass jar and a stack of colourful scented papers and they didn’t waste time to clear the dining table of the bowl of fruits and their cups so they could get to it. 

Lucien is remarkably patient. More so than MC or his older sisters - he made sure to slowly show how to fold the paper into stars to his Mama and when she’s confused, he would show her some videos online to help her. As the mother and son gradually fill up the glass jar, Lucien talks about anything and everything under the sun. How everyone in his team at school is helping him ease to the role as the captain of the cheerleading squad, how he’s getting a hang on the new subject material taught in Math class and who’s dating who in his circle of friends. 

MC hums and would give an appropriate reply in-between Lucien’s story. Typical teenage shenanigans, albeit, a lot tamer than what she went through but she’ll never get tired of listening to her children’s school life. Yes, even when Renata and Sherrie tried their best to hide whatever blunder they did at times. 

It was when Lucien threw a purple star origami into the jar that he suddenly changes the subject. “Oh yeah! By the way Mama, Ren and Cherry said that she has a surprise for you tonight!” 

“Oooh, a surprise? I wonder what your sisters are planning.” MC murmurs a bit absentmindedly, too focus on folding the papers. Her eyebrows scrunch in concentration and she would beam proudly when one star came out perfect before tossing it into the jar with a happy hum. 

Lucien is relieved. Looks like the distraction works. 

They had a simple dinner once the glass jar is filled and once the dishes are done, Lucien hurriedly ushers his Mama into the living room. On the sofa, MC watches Lucien draws the rune on the mirror, bemused at the grin on his face. 

When the rune vanishes, MC opens her mouth to greet her daughters. Her open mouth gapes and she could feel the corner of her eyes are suddenly wet when she saw the people on the other side of the mirror. 

“Ow! Deuce, you idiot! I told you not to shove me with your elbow!” 

“Who are you calling an idiot!? And quit hogging the mirror already!”

“I’m not hogging the mirror! You’re the one who keeps pushing me!” 

MC couldn’t help it. She laughs, tears now freely running down her cheeks. Lucien quietly excuses himself to fetch a box of tissue for her. 

Her laugh shuts both Ace and Deuce up. “Oh geez, what are you crying for, hah? It’s just us.” Ace said, supporting a bittersweet smile. At that moment, seeing his best friend releases the tension festering inside of him all these years. 

“We miss you, Prefect!” Deuce shouted with a sniffle, his eyes are teary as well. He hurries to wipe off the tears with his knuckle. “Miss you so, so much! I’m so glad you’re OK!” 

“Are you really though?” Ace interject, he doesn’t even bother to conceal his blatant check on MC’s body. Looking for any sign of injuries or illness. 

MC guessed that one of her daughters have told them what happened to her... 

But she refused to let thoughts regarding Malleus damper her happy mood. Not when she could finally see her best friends again. 

“I’m ok now. We’re... we’re ok.” MC honestly reply with a lightened heart. 

The three of them have grown; each of them has their own children now, at this moment, it feels as if they have been transported back to their teenage years all those years ago. 

MC realises that she’s truly no longer alone now. 

-

And we’ve reached the end of this chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed it!! MC finally meet Adeuce once more, even if it’s just through a mirror. With the three of them together again, there’s nothing they can’t do. 

Here are some titbits about Amber Leech’s background:

1. His Unique Magic is called ‘Witness of the Past’

2. His Mum is a beautiful mer Sea Lamprey (if you don’t know what a Sea Lamprey looks like, uh, prepare yourself before you google search them.) 

Speaking of Unique Magic, I’ve compiled a list of all the kids with their UMs already. Haven’t decided yet when I’ll post it, but I’m thinking of posting the names as a sort of teaser? Meh, we’ll see how that goes. 

[bright-whump]

hey there, nonnny from a few days ago that led to your lovely little rant (work kept me away). yeah abuse can carry into adulthood, women can abuse people. it's a thing. and people are complex. you can have MIXED feelings about people. it's complicated. people are COMPLICATED. it's not black and white. but people be doing that sometimes....it's like chvrches says in their new song, killing your idols is a chore. when we put people up on a pedestal and make them wholly one thing (ie jessica is perf and doesn't do anything wrong) we overlook the abuse she does commit, doesn't erase the abuse she experiences, but it erases the depth of her as a person. doesn't mean you can't still appreciate parts of her and understand her. and still feel bad for our precious little whump boy malcolm. because it's not ok how he is treated. when you erase abuse, there's no chance for repair, reattunement, and recovery.

also, yes, i love your fics. please keep them coming (secretly hoping that you'll finish some of the oldies too). i literally came back to tumblr and ao3 for this show lol

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm so tempted to put this in the tag but the only thing it'll get me is suicide baiting anons unfortunately. It needs to be read but none of them are willing to read it, and especially not to actually read it and understand what it says.

This is completely correct, and I hate that it's so goddamn controversial once again in a fandom where the main character is abused continuously on screen, they just love to be a nasty little YouTube comment section of middle schoolers about how he deserves it, why it's okay, how abuse builds character or is funny/a meme, all the other shit. If the show does come back, and I've mixed feelings on it (as in, I don't want it back if they're going to continue to cut Gil and JT completely out of the show to force Malcolm and D.ani--and Gil and Jessica tbh--to have as many scenes as possible together while forcibly removing all other friendships/relationships and allowing them no other interaction with anyone else. That's not the way to write relationships. You don't take away everything else from the character and then plop their love interest in to what would normally have been other character's scenes, such as Gil asking D.ani for some reason to go check on Malcolm as if he would EVER not do it himself. I want more scenes with JT and Malcolm and Gil and Malcolm and I want everyone to stop treating him like a fucked up dangerous useless worthless person like they did in S2, which only encouraged the fandom to do the same.) I would do my absolute best to interact with it as least as possible, only on AO3 and with the people who I trust not to post shit like that. It so many times, so many times, nearly ruined the show for me, because it was so triggering and felt so unsafe. More than a few people genuinely tried to ruin the show for me, and a group has still, to this day I've recently found out 11 months after last contact, been trying to harass me/get others to harass me (and Zoe, we have been their favorite targets since mid-2020 but apparently they've been telling people she's at least slightly less evil than me lmao) into leaving it entirely.

Thank you so much again for your compliments 🥺💕 I have probably one of my favs posting tomorrow (although I did also post a very sad one today lmao) and oh yes, I've got some plans to try and update some things, TBD if it will happen but I'm pretty hopeful. I love love love that you messaged me and made me feel at ease for a little reminded that there ARE people who understand out there, even if so slim in this fandom, and if you ever wanted to DM! They are open!

💕💕💕💕

[musical-chick-13]

About that “Chibnall killed Doctor who post”

I’m kinda on the inbetween of that arguement, I remained a fan of Doctor who throughout this Chibnall era, but I definitely think Chibnall isn’t as good of a Doctor who writer as RTD or Moffat.

I think literally any episode he did (keeping the original concept) could’ve been done better with RTD or Moffat.

E.G. I really liked the Concept of the Timeless child and I the episode itself was pretty good, but I think if RTD had worked on series 11 and 12, the timeless child thing would’ve been something similar to bad Wolf, with a lot more hinting and build up throughout the series.

But again, I still watch it, and I’m still a fan since there were some good episodes in Chibnall’s era. But I am excited for RTD’s return.

Hey, fellow Doctor Who fan! Thanks for the ask! (And for being respectful and descriptive while sending it. I love, like...actual fandom dialogue and idea exchange, and I am always down to talk about Doctor Who.)

I'm sorry this response got so long (turns out I love to ramble about TV I follow), so I'm putting the rest under a "read more."

I totally get why people are excited for RTD coming back. Personally, I just like the characters and acting more in the other eras (sans Martha, who is my favorite companion forever and ever, but I still didn't really like the way Ten treated her?). They spoke to me in a way that many in RTD-era number one just...didn't? I'm not completely sure why, so I guess I'll have to work on figuring that out, haha. But I primarily care about characters/character arcs when I watch something because I've been a Theatre Kid™ (and later a Theatre Adult™) my entire life, and the reason why is because I like getting into the heads of fictional people and figuring out where they emotionally end up. Foreshadowing and plot concepts are often secondary to me. But for people who value those things, absolutely I get the love for RTD because he was (and likely will continue to be) good at it.

I think, ultimately, a big part of the problem in terms of how the Chibnall era was received stemmed, not just from genuine criticisms of or objections to the show, but also the fact that many fans would take every opportunity to talk about how every single thing was completely awful with no redeeming qualities and deserved no chances. People who stopped watching the show would still talk about it, even though they hadn't actually seen what was happening, and despite me seeing a lot of discussion about how people were willing to accept some of RTDs (and even, occasionally, Steven Moffat's, though that was far less common) because they got value out of enough other things in the show. But I...haven't seen the same grace extended to the Chibnall era. There were some episodes that fell flat for me, but I think Ryan's arc of learning what he wants and accepting the beauty of a life on Earth, and Graham's reflection on grief, and Yaz's ill-advised devotion and mental health struggle backstory, and everything about Thirteen, and everything about Sacha Dhawan's portrayal of The Master ultimately mean more to me than the episodes I find less-than-stellar. But many times when I've tried to go into Doctor Who-related tags or look for video essays on YouTube or skim the official Facebook page for news, I just see an avalanche of content about how the whole thing is worthless and we should throw it all out. Add in the fact that there were some infamous plotlines and fandom drama in the "Super" and "Lock" parts of SuperWhoLock (which as a totality has recently made the shift in cultural perception to "Cringe™"), which bled over into assuming Doctor Who would follow suit, and there's a lot of negativity that unfairly skews the perception of what people's relationship to and opinion of the show are. Many times, the people who hate something are the loudest about it. And a lot of times, that dissuades people who genuinely love the thing from talking about how much they love it. (Or, at the very least, prevents those talks from getting traction, because people who hate things, in my experience, are...very adamant about running people who disagree with them off of public platforms.)

I can get why the Chibnall era wouldn't hit as well for some people. And if it's not someone's thing, that is completely fine. (God knows there are lots of things that aren't for me.) I think, though, that if someone decides something isn't their thing, it's better for everyone for them to say, "Hey, it's not my thing" and watch something else that is. I don't think continuing to talk about how much they hate it is very helpful to anyone involved. Obviously people can vent and make posts about their feelings on the show, but there's a line and I've seen a lot of people (in unprecedented numbers) cross it. And, ultimately, I think that is the thing that's the most responsible for the public negative reactions to Chibnall.

[mcardoso]

Backlash

And here…here is our ‘piéce de resistance’. The latest addition to our humble residential retreat: the tranquility den. This is where the ceremony will take place. As you can see, we opted for an East-meets-Midwest vibe, taking inspiration from Ayurveda principles and Feng shui. Think curved walls, an open space and lots of natural light. We find that a bright open space is just the most wonderful vehicle to connect with the absolute. Being here feels like… standing in a big mirror. Reflective. Peaceful. Absolutely transcendent. When the entire assembly gathers together and meditates, you can feel everyone actively relearning themselves, in a much deeper way than they had ever thought they could. It’s magical. To be perfectly honest, the worst thing about being the eminent chief, is that I personally don’t get to spend as much time meditating, but that’s the burden of being a visionary, a minister of light. No one can truly understand.

I like to call it our Sandals Resort for the soul. Every day, our four hundred residents and many of our loyal Instagram followers who tune in online, routinely partake in our daily introspection sessions, morning yoga, intuitive massage, dancing sessions…sometimes we even bring in a DJ on Saturdays. Whoever said soul searching couldn’t be fun? We celebrate the joyous stages of human experience just like anyone else. But we’re not like everyone else. We have a mission. A noble pursuit. To elevate our minds to a higher plane of being, the Kingdom. Dramatic, I know. However, if we are to gain access to the Kingdom, we must do the work. That’s the part few understand. We are here to work. On ourselves, on our minds and spirits. On our souls. As eminent chief, I am here to empower and instruct. I’m hoping this interview sets the record straight on that.

We couldn’t be more excited that you are joining us today. It’ll be a real treat to experience the Purifying Ceremony for the first time. I’m jealous of you! To be perfectly honest, we are long overdue for one. I think some of the recent bad press- the article that shall not be named- has really placed a hamper on our spirits. We started the day with a gorgeous morning hike, did some guided meditation and now we’re all running around getting everything ready for tonight. Don’t worry, it’s nothing crazy. No robe wearing crew around a huge caldron. We’ll just all gather together, take turns venting, purging all of the negativity out into the energy field. Then, I’ll naturally take the stage and counsel the entire assembly. That is my absolute favorite part. To stand in front of my brothers and sisters, and feel the love, the respect…the admiration. It’s… intoxicating.

I don’t really plan my lectures ahead of time or anything. I usually just close my eyes, and hope for that tranquil awakening to express itself verbally. It’s a very, very spiritual experience. Much like taking your bra off at the end of a very long day. I must admit though, tonight I do have somewhat of an agenda. I feel it is my duty to address some of the issues that have come to light that outsiders really don’t understand about our movement.

 I just despise talking about things that genuinely don’t matter in the greater scheme. I mean, why does it matter how much my sessions cost, when I’m selling enlightenment?

Yes, I do make quite a bit of money. With the lectures, and the book sales, and the sessions, and our daily Assembly collection…But all this money talk is terribly impolite. You must understand, all of our funding goes right back to the cause. And yes, as an instructor, I need to nourish my own being, and that costs money as well. When you’re running what is essentially an empire, though a virtuous one at that, you need to maintain a profit. Having good business sense does not mean I’m greedy. That we’re greedy. Greed has no place within these walls.

I fear the media has been quite unfair. When the article came out, I was not surprised by the backlash. Not in the least. I understand that the nature of my work rubs some people the wrong way. I have seen a lot of envy, and jealousy, and opposition. It’s honestly just taught us to become more mindful as to who we choose to include in our meetings or what-have you. I am a good person. I have great intentions. You don’t need to like me. Hell, you don’t even have to join our mission. But slander is simply shameful. And those who judge me will be disappointed in the Kingdom beyond.

They would also judge those who would follow us. Determining the worthlessness of any that would join some “cult”, assuming that that is the worst thing that anyone could possibly do, for they are being brainwashed. Led down the wrong track into some obscure camp, going to the devil. What does that devil look like?

Oh, and how I simply detest their language. They try to undermine my authority among our assembly, referring to me as a “delusional charlatan.” Me! Meanwhile David Koresh, Jim Jones, Charles Manson: they were never seen as charlatans. Oh no. They were “visionaries whose missions went awry”. They were cult “leaders”. Leaders! Can you believe that? Them, leaders…Those murderous fools. Excuse my language, but they were sex-crazed maniacs, who were just…just…messy. Allowing their male urges to guide their prophesizing, mixing business and pleasure with no respect to the former. Never have I been described as a leader by the media. Technically, I would prefer eminent chief or minister of light, but I’d settle for leader. Just look around! I’m running a tight ship here; a most efficient organization.

 And sure, we share some of the same strategies and beliefs. But we are nothing alike. Apples and Oranges. Our Assembly is nothing like the organizations led by those imbeciles. Not that the mainstream world would care. Everyone is so quick to condemn and judge those of us who seek to look beyond, that they will go to any lengths to make us look bad. To make me look bad. I will no longer stand for it.

I’ve fought for the platform I have. I’ve spoken, written, expended my blood, sweat and tears to create this community from the ground up. This community that trusts my teachings, accepts my ideology, believes…believes in our power. The power of belief and objective. My power. No outrageous article could bring us down.

No offense. I am sure you won’t defame our character: you’ve been here, you’ve spent time with us, you understand what we’re all about. Sincerely, I am so, so grateful to you. To real journalists like you. Thank you again for coming down and listening to our side of the story. I see greatness in you. If you’re interested, I’d love to talk to you about our organized program of thought reform. You seem like a great candidate and I just know we’d love to have you in our community.

Welcome brothers and sisters, I’m so glad to see you. It’s been far too long since our last ceremony. We have work to do. 

Original Text by M. Cardoso

Published 2020

[langdxn]

I am SO sorry it took me this long to get back to you, anon! This has tormented me ever since you sent it, I was so determined to find the right scenario to fit it and it finally came to me today. I hope this does it justice!

You had one final public appearance before you and Duncan Shepherd could announce your divorce. Bill Shepherd’s birthday barbecue, a muted affair to the press but a nonetheless loaded engagement for the Shepherds’ social circle.

After five years of blissful marriage, one heated argument was all it took for you and Duncan to call time and he moved out of your shared penthouse apartment that night.

That was three months ago. You made your commitments for the duration of the summer social calendar for appearances’ sake and you would disappear into the ether by September. By fall, you would be but a distant memory to the Shepherd family, the only evidence of your existence being a marriage license that would soon be torn up.

Swallowing thickly, you watched as Duncan excused himself from Annette’s company and tentatively paced over to you, hands clasped behind his back.

It pained you to see him looking so perfect, the soft blur of his stubble lining his jaw where you’d placed countless butterfly kisses while he made love to you. The loosened collar of his grey shirt where you once planted flawless lipstick marks to let his colleagues know you’d claimed him. The expensive boots that rested neatly at the bedroom door without fail now anxiously clicking their way toward you.

“Thank you for coming,” he leaned in to whisper in the shell of your ear as he scooped a courteous arm around your back. You tried in vain to conceal the instinctive flinch as his fingertips brushed softly over the back of your dress, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth to contain any signal of unease.

“What choice did I have?” You muttered under a forced smile for your company. “Don’t worry, once this is over you’ll never have to see my face again.”

The gentle hum of slow music broke the tension between you, both glancing over to the crowd that had suddenly gathered around you. Countless eyes bore into you, every pair of hands clapping as they cleared the space around you — they were encouraging you to dance.

Duncan sighed, spinning around you to plant his hands on your hips, swaying softly. Swallowing your pride once more, you hooked your hands behind his neck and gazing into his eyes with a feigned desire that took all your strength to muster.

I fell by the wayside like everyone else

“What suggested that I would prefer to not see you again?” His honeyed tone pouring through his warm, genuine smile almost calmed your nerves and blind fury. Almost.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you but I was just kidding myself

“Oh I’m sorry, Mr Shepherd, did I misunderstand you leaving me crying on the kitchen floor? Were your hastily-packed bags a mixed signal?”

Our every moment, I start to replace

Duncan’s gaze dropped shamefully to his feet between you, palms resting on the curve of your hips now shaking against the lace of your dress. Luckily, to your waiting audience it only looked as if he was deep in thought, lost in the moment dancing with his wife.

'Cause now that they're gone all I hear were the words that I needed to say

“I acted irrationally,” he dismissed. “There’s no defending it.”

When you hurt under the surface

“That’s putting it lightly, Duncan,” you hissed behind tightly gritted teeth, maintaining the steady rock to the music. “You accused me of keeping your mother’s little secret about your birth.”

Like troubled water running cold

“Please, babe, I know what I did.”

Well, time can heal but this won't

“Do you really? I found out who your real mother was in the same heartbeat you did. I helped you find her, I drove you to her house, I waited in the car outside her place until you had asked every single question you had about your birth family, cried every tear that you could.”

So, before you go, was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?

Tears brimmed in both your eyes, heat piercing your cheeks as you realised exactly how many eyes were watching you both tear up in each other’s arms. What looked from a few meters away like a deeply romantic moment was the most heartbreaking exchange of your entire relationship.

If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather

“I knew nothing and I did everything I could to help you, but you pinned it all on me.”

So, before you go, was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?

“I was so lost,” Duncan strained to lift his head to look you in the eyes, his deep blue gaze pouring his heart out to you. “I didn’t know who to believe.”

It kills me how your mind could make you feel so worthless, so before you go

“Well you certainly didn’t believe your devoted wife over the woman who lied to you about being your goddamn mother up until a few months ago.”

Was never the right time whenever you called

His head dipped so low, the stubble of his chin grazed his black silk tie. “I should’ve listened to you.”

Went little by little by little until there was nothing at all

The despair washing over his face slightly melted your steely facade.

Our every moment, I start to replay, but all I can think about is seeing that look on your face

“She’s the closest thing you had to a mother,” you mumbled. “What chance did I have against her?”

When you hurt under the surface, like troubled water running cold

“I don’t understand why she set us against each other,” he sighed despondently, his grip tightening on your hips as he skewed his face into one of slowly erupting anger. “Did she not approve of our marriage? What were we doing wrong?”

Well, time can heal but this won't

“We did nothing wrong but be happy, Duncan,” your hands wandered to cup his face. “You’re her golden boy and she let you down, so she had to put the blame on somebody.”

So, before you go, was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?

“That’s not the Annette that raised me… is it?”

If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather

“She’s still your mother figure. She’d do anything to protect you, that’s not your fault or anybody else’s but hers.”

So, before you go, was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?

“So how can we…” he trailed off, cursing himself as he snapped back into the room, the smiling faces spinning around you as you continued twirling gently in each other’s arms. “How can I fix this?”

It kills me how your mind could make you feel so worthless, so, before you go

“I don’t think we can,” you sighed. “The damage has been done, Duncan. Your mother made me agree to a divorce on the grounds of my ‘adultery.’ Tried to pay me for the privilege, too.”

Would we be better off by now, if I'd have let my walls come down?

“Wait, she did what?” Duncan froze to the spot, another tidal wave of panic sweeping his withdrawn countenance. “Adultery? She paid you?”

Maybe I guess we'll never know, you know, you know

“She tried, I refused,” you reassured him, lightly digging your elbows into his shoulders to remind him to keep dancing. “I thought you knew about the grounds for divorce, it’s all in the press release for tomorrow.”

Before you go

His head shook frantically, his brows furrowing. “Why did you agree?”

“Because that’s who I am, Duncan. People will do anything for the one they love.”

Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?

You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye as you admitted your failures, just as he had moments earlier. Hanging your head, Duncan pressed a searing kiss to your forehead, eyes clenching shut and his fingers digging trenches into your hips — holding on tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather

“I’m sorry you had to go through that on your own,” he whispered against your head. “I’m sorry you couldn’t turn to me to help you.”

“So am I,” you pulled away to look back into his eyes, his tears still threatening to burst their oceanic blue banks as he sniffed softly. “But what helps me sleep at night is that I’m not a Shepherd.”

So, before you go

Duncan hung his head once more, chewing his lip until it turned white.

“Hey, look at me baby,” you curled the corner of your lips into a comforting smile as his gaze hesitantly returned to you. “Neither are you, Duncan. They don’t treat you like one of them, so don’t let yourself become one of them.”

Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?

“Do you think we can make it back from this? Run away so tomorrow never happens?”

Your breaths hitched in your throat, the familiar knot in your chest tightening as you melted into his touch.

It kills me how your mind could make you feel so worthless

“We can try. Let’s talk to your mom first, yeah?” Duncan nodded. “I love you too much to lose you, Duncan Shepherd.”

For the first time since that night, you captured Duncan’s lips in a desperate kiss.

So, before you go

“I love you too,” Duncan sighed against your lips, the same lips he thought he’d never again be able to press his against. “More than you will ever know.”