#i was doing some twitter stalking this morning and when i realised that the person who runs the fan account seemed to have info

[deepfriedpaddymayne]

ok so to clear everything up and also give this some context, the short version is that I got in touch with the person who runs the Daily César Domboy fan account (here on instagram, and here on twitter), who has spoken to César himself about Rogue Heroes season 2, and he confirmed that unfortunately his character, as well as the few remaining Frenchmen, have all been written out and will not be coming back for s2.

While I couldn't get TOO much detail, the reason for this was apparently script changes, so it does seem that he was initially supposed to have a storyline for s2 which had to be taken out for whatever reason. apparently César is not planning to make an announcement, so I think this is as close to official confirmation as we are gonna get until, y'know, the season actually airs and he's not there lmao.

so, yeah, in short,

[arvinsescape]

Hey could you please write something with reader's ex leaking some private pictures you two took when you were together just because he's jealous of you and tom, so when tom hears about what happened he is so upset that someone could be this low, he's not even jealous, he is just so mad that he could cry

A/N: Thank you for sending this in, I hope you enjoy! 💕

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, leaking of nudes (this is never okay, I do not condone this behaviour), talks of bad relationships, mentions of stalking (do not read if you are uncomfortable).

You and Tom had been together for just over a year and a half, it had been amazing, you absolutely adored each other and everyone could see it. There was only one negative in your relationship and that came with your ex.

He was an incredibly jealous human being, awful in every way. You broke things off with him after two years of putting up with his behaviour. You'd not been allowed to have male friends, the relationship you had with the men Tom lived with was strange for you at first, at every turn you expected Tom to get angry about how close you were getting. It never happened, Tom adored the relationship you had with the boys and it was quick to reassure you of that fact when you opened up to him about it.

Unfortunately, although he claimed he wasn't in love with you, he couldn't let you go. He was so jealous when he found out you'd moved on that he started stalking your social medias, leaving comments on your posts which led to you blocking him. Of course, this didn't work, he made new accounts in order to find out what you were doing, leaving nasty comments on posts you made to a point where you simply stopped posting as often.

He was tiring and for a while you worried he'd find you, approach you but he never did. You'd been on edge for a short time after making your relationship with Tom public due to the comments he'd leave on your posts. You wondered whether or not he'd ever get over it, let you go but he seemingly wasn't going to anytime soon. It was tiresome, truly but you'd learned to live with it, you continued to block the accounts he made, Tom personally emailing the social media companies in hopes they could put a stop to him but to no avail.

You travelled with Tom a lot, most of the time unless you had family commitments that kept you homebound. This was due to your job and the way it worked, you never needed to be in an office and you could work from anywhere in the world. Book editing meant you had freedom. It made you feel safe, knowing Tom was never far away and when he was filming you could spend time with one of the boys and it brought a huge comfort to you.

You were back in London, in Tom's shared house after a long stretch in the states, you were happy to be back home, have your home comforts. You had been in and out of sleep for the past hour, your phone buzzing like crazy which had resulted in you turning it off, not ready to face whatever it was so early in the morning. That was all well and good until Tom's phone started half an hour later.

"Tom." You lightly shook him in his sleep and he mumbled incoherently in response. "Tom?" You tried harder.

"Y/N, go back to sleep." He grumbled as he pulled you into his chest as his phone started again. You pushed against his chest and his eyes snapped open.

"Tom your phone." You stated and Tom groaned before rolling over and mindlessly fishing for the device, turning it off as well. "It might be important." You said and he rolled back over to pull you into him.

"I'll deal with it later, it's my week off, it can wait." He mumbled into your neck as he sighed out. It didn't take him long to find sleep again as he held you against his chest, his warmth wrapping around you and making you drift into your own sleep.

You're not sure how long you'd been back asleep before you heard banging on your bedroom door. Tom groaning as he squeezed your body and ignored the knocks, hoping whichever boy it was would go away.

"Tom." Harrison's voice pulled you both from your sleepy state. He sounded worried, not his usual calm and chilled out self as he banged on the door again. "You need to get up." He said frantically.

"Fuck off Harrison, I'm tired." Tom shouted back as you sat up and ran a hand over your face. Tom protesting as you sat against the headboard trying to come to. "Darling, come back." He begged, almost childishly, you were about to respond when Harrison piped up again.

"Tom, mate seriously. Get up, it's important." He tried and Tom groaned again before sitting up next to you. "Right, I'm coming in." Haz shouted before opening your bedroom door, phone in hand and face paler than usual.

"Haz what is so important that we need to get up at," Tom started as he checked his watch. "7:30 in the morning."

"You need to check your phones." He said as he threw his phone in your direction. With furrowed brows you picked it up. "I'm so sorry Y/N/N." He said and Tom was quick to grab his phone, turning it on.

"What do you mean? Haz it's early and I've not woken up yet, what's going on?" Tom asked as you scrolled Haz's phone, quiet as a mouse, face dropping. You flicked though the series of pictures that had made their way to twitter, complete and utter disbelief hitting you.

"Her ex." Harrison said as Tom's phone finished booting up, numerous missed calls from his publicist and twitter notifying him that he was trending. "Y/N/N, are you okay?" Harrison asked as he took in your figure.

"How long have these been up?" You asked, eyes not leaving his phone.

"I don't know they were posted overnight." Harrison sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Numerous pictures of yourself from a couple of years ago staring back at you. Pictures with your ex in very compromising positions mocking you as you looked at them.

You nodded slowly as you swallowed down your emotions, you lifted a shaky hand to run through your hair. The internet had practically seen you for what you were, seen things that were meant for a significant other. Pictures of yourself you'd sent to your ex before things got bad between the two of you.

"Fucking piece of shit." Tom whispered as he himself saw what Harrison had been talking about. You felt like crying, the lump in your throat felt heavy as you tried to swallow it down, tears blurring your vision as you looked at the pictures.

"Sweetheart," Tom started as he took Harrison's phone from your hand and handed it back to his friend. Harrison took it and quickly made his way from your room, he knew you were seconds away from breaking down and you needed your privacy.

"I thought he'd deleted them." You whispered to more yourself than anyone else. "I sent those at the beginning of our relationship, fucking idiot." You said to yourself and Tom pulled you into him as your tears fell, silently crying.

"You're not an idiot. This is on him, not you. I'm so sorry." Tom said as he held you. "He had no right to do that."

"Is he ever going to leave me alone?" You cried and Tom's heart shattered there and then in his chest. This man had been a tormenter for years, too long and he had been cause for your tears numerous times over your relationship.

"He is. I swear to god this is the last time." Tom promised as he held you tight against him. His phone rang yet again and he huffed out in annoyance as he lifted an arm, reaching for his phone. "Hey, I'll call you back." Tom said into the phone, you didn't hear the response. "No, this is more important, I'll talk to you later." Tom snapped before hanging up the phone and throwing it to one side.

You became a sobbing mess, the world having seen parts of yourself you never wanted them to. You wanted to disappear off the face of earth, how were you supposed to go out in public after this? How were you supposed to face the people you knew? Your mind was racing, thoughts embedding themselves as you thought more about what would happen. You only cried harder as you thought about it.

Tom comforted you through your breakdown, reassuring you that it was going to be okay. He was in complete shock, how could someone do this? He wanted to cry as he held you, his heart was broken for the woman in his arms. He listened as you eventually calmed down, breathing steadying as you pulled away from his chest and wiped your face.

"I'm gonna do something about this, I promise." Tom comforted and he watched as a defeated look spread across your face.

"What does it matter? The world has seen them now." You smiled sadly, realising there was nothing you could do. He'd taken things to a knew level, one you would never hear the end of. "It's my own fault, I never should have sent them." You bit your lip as you tried to hold back more tears.

"No baby, don't do that. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault." He said as he sat across from you, taking your hands into his own. You couldn't look him in the eye, what if he hated you for this? This was something people could use against him now, what if he was disgusted you ever sent them to him.

"Stop it." Tom said softly, he could see you reeling, see your thoughts consuming you. He always knew, he said you had this look on your face and in your eyes, he knew you like the back of his hand. "Don't, I know what you're thinking and this isn't your fault."

"Look at me," Tom encouraged as he took your chin in his hand and forced your gaze into his own. "I promise this is going to be okay." He comforted and the look in his eyes was so comforting, so safe. No judgement, nothing hiding behind them, he was heart broken for you, you could see that in the tears that were slightly welling in his eyes.

It wasn't that you were against sending pictures to your partner, you and Tom had sent your fair share to each other. But you had learned a valuable lesson, you'd deleted every picture between you and your ex because that was the right thing to do, right? But he hadn't, he'd kept them and it made you uncomfortable as to why? Why would he want to keep those pictures? Why would he release them for the world to see?

"One minute." Tom said as he got off the bed and made his way into the en suite. You heard running water and you knew he was running you a bath, the evidence in the smell of flowers filling the room as he added your favourite bubble bath. He reappeared after a while.

"Come on. I've got some calls to make so you have a bath." He said as he held his hand out for you. Your heart warmed but you sighed as you took his hand and stood up.

"This isn't your mess to clean up Tom, it's mine." You mumbled and Tom shook his head as he tugged you slightly into the bathroom.

"If it affects you, it affects me. I'm gonna do everything I can to protect you. I love you okay? This isn't your fault and I'm gonna put an end to his shit, I've had enough. I'm gonna do something about him." Tom said and you smiled sadly.

"Thank you." You said and Tom smiled as he gestured for you to get into the bath.

"I'll be back in a while. I'm gonna talk to my legal team, see what I can do. You just try and relax and I want you to promise me that you'll stay off social media today." He said and you nodded as he smiled in comfort at you, kissing your forehead as he left the bathroom and made his way downstairs, grabbing his phone and putting some sweats on as he did.

"How is she?" Harrison asked, almost as soon as Tom entered the living room. Tom sighed as he turned to his best friend.

"She's upset. Blames herself for ever sending them." He said and Haz furrowed his brows.

"This is that twats fault. I swear if I ever see him again I'm gonna punch the smug look he always has right off his fucking face." Haz said.

"You'll have to get in line. I could kill him for what he's done." Tom said, he was so upset that you'd been put through this. "I want to fucking cry for her Haz, she's devastated." Tom continued as Tuwaine made his way into the room.

"That man is a fucking dick." He ranted straight away, Harry agreeing as he made his way in. "I can't believe the shit he's pulled." He continued.

"He's was so open about it, posting them onto his personal twitter account." Harry said in disbelief.

"I'm hoping that was his biggest mistake, what I can get him for." Tom said as he scrolled his contacts, pulling up the head of his legal team.

"What's the reaction online?" Haz asked carefully and Tuwaine shook his head.

"Half and half, some people are defending her, some are mocking her, others judging. It's a mess, people wanna know how Tom feels about it, some Y/N. I don't know, I tried not to look too much." Tuwaine sighed and Haz gave a tight nod as he grabbed his phone and vigorously started to type.

Tom left the room as he held the phone to his ear, on the phone with his legal team. Disappearing to talk in private. Harrison finally finished his typing as Tuwiane and Harry's phone pinged, Harrison's tweets coming to their attention.

There are no words for what has happened to my two best friends. What this man has done is disgusting and in no way Y/N's fault, please stop circulating the pictures. They were posted without her consent and she is hurting enough without people mocking her. Leave her alone, leave Tom alone. You will hear from them when they are ready.

Harry and Tuwaine retweeting the tweets before adding their own in support of you. You were close to them all, they were like your brother's.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. This is just awful, I can't believe this has happened." Tuwaine said and watched as you appeared in the living room, you had your pyjama pants on, one of Tom's hoodies consuming your upper half as you looked sheepishly around the room.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry this has happened." Tuwaine said as he pulled you into his chest, squeezing you in comfort. "It's okay, we're gonna get you through this." He promised and your heart warmed as you hugged him back.

There was a part of you that wondered how much the boys had seen, it made you feel strange around them. What if they'd seen the pictures of your intimate parts?

"I didn't look." Tuwaine said, almost as if he could read your thoughts. "I saw enough to know when to stop scrolling, enough to know what had happened." He reassured as the boys voiced the same.

"Okay, he's gonna do some digging, see how far he can take it. See what he can get him done for." Tom said as he reappeared, you instantly leaving Tuwaine's arms for your boyfriends.

"Is it looking promising? That we can press charges of some sort against him?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, he's just said he'll see if he can take more action. He's already contacted twitter and they're trying to put a stop to the sharing of the pictures. The rest of the sites the same." Tom said as he squeezed you tightly, chin resting on top of your head.

Tom's phone rang again and he pulled it from his pocket, sighing as he watched his publicists name flash across his screen. This was the phone call he was dreading because his PR team didn't give a fuck how you looked, it was all about Tom. This wasn't about him.

"Hello?" Tom said as he answered, he couldn't ignore them forever.

"Tom! Finally!" He heard the shrill screech of her voice and he grimaced as he did. He moved you both to sit on the couch, sitting you on his lap as he cuddled you. "Have you seen the internet?"

"Yeah." Tom said, almost annoyed.

"Y/N needs to put out a statement." She said and Tom huffed, anger building in him.

"Y/N doesn't need to do anything. She will address this if and when she is ready." Tom snapped.

"Tom this will make it look bad for you if neither of you address it. Some people are speculating she's cheated." She replied and your stomach dropped as you overheard her. Tom shifted you onto the couch as he got up, placing a kiss to your lips as he disappeared again. You didn't need to hear any of this.

"I don't give a shit to be honest. She hasn't cheated, these photos where posted without her consent. This isn't about me, this is about her." Tom snapped.

"But Tom, you are Spiderman, your girlfriends nudes have been leaked, pictures of her with another man have leaked." She snapped back and Tom's anger hit breaking point.

"I don't care. I just told you that. I'm not going to force her to do a thing she doesn't want. I don't care that I am Spiderman, what happened to her is wrong and I'm gonna stand by her."

"About that." She said Tom's heart dropped.

"What?"

"We think it might be best if you distanced yourself from her. Make it look like a slight break." His publicist said and Tom's anger hit the roof at the suggestion. His publicist had never been fond of your relationship, they wanted him to date other celebrities, he'd fought them for ages on this front.

"Not happening. This is devastating for her, you really think I'm gonna abandon her? You know what? If anyone thinks negatively about me or her, that's on them because what has happened to her is wrong. How do you think that will look? I can just see the headlines. Tom Holland leaves girlfriend after nudes where leaked without her consent. What sort of a message does that send to people? Did you think about that? Or is this just you taking another opportunity to try and get me seen with someone you approve of?" Tom screamed, the house heard.

"I, I suppose I hadn't thought about that." She stumbled out quietly. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself.

"I don't want to hear anything more about this. I'm going to deal with this my way. This isn't about me, this about her and sticking by her, which I am going to do. Whatever you might say. The fact that you hadn't thought about what I've just said makes clear to me that I can't trust you with this one and maybe I should be looking for someone I can." Tom snapped.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave you be. We'll try and do what we can here." She said and Tom didn't even feel guilty for blowing out on his publicist, the team could be the biggest wankers he'd ever met anyway.

"Tom, you'll get in trouble." You said as he made his way back into the room. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his side as he kissed your head.

"I don't care. This isn't about me, they need to realise that." Tom spoke into your hair. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he typed away, minutes later and everyone's phone had pinged, Tom had posted to Instagram. It was a picture of the two of you, one taken over winter in by the fire.

I'm sure many of you have seen what has happened. I'm devastated someone would do this, these pictures were posted without her consent. This man kept these pictures for over two years and then posted them. I ask that you stop judging and just think for a second how this would make you feel, if it was you in this position. She trusted him enough to send those images and he broke that trust, it's so wrong.

I ask that you stop posting the pictures, they are not yours or mine to post. There is no cheating involved, this man has caused enough distress for Y/N and I will not let it continue. I want you to support her and send love, it's what she deserves. She's my best friend and my lover, I stand by her 100% on this, I will not tolerate any abuse sent her way.

Please understand that she is not ready to address this and if she never is that's okay. She doesn't have to, this isn't her fault and she has nothing to apologise for. I love her and I hope to see your continued support of her, much love Tom x

He switched his phone off as he looked at you, he wanted nothing more than to make this go away for you, he wanted to hide you from the world, keep you safe. He had to swallow his tears again, heart aching from what this man has done to you, he couldn't stop himself pulling you tighter against him as he tried to keep his tears at bay..

"It's gonna be okay, I promise. I love you." He said into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself to straddle him. You pulled each other impossibly closer and the boys smiled at the interaction, no matter what was going on the world, the two had each other. They had each other's backs and it was heart warming to see, to know they had all the support they would ever need in each other.

[helloalycia]

my happy ending [one] // kara danvers

summary: your crush from work decides to make a move, but she keeps putting off telling you something that you don't realise is actually really important

warning/s: none

author's note: i'm still working on a bunch of stuff but here's some old stuff to tide you over as i do. this is part one to a two-parter! enjoy :)

part two | masterlist

I sketched out some designs at my desk, ideas for some new Instagram and Twitter marketing CatCo we were planning to do. I was in charge of social media marketing at CatCo Worldwide, so things like this were routine at work. What wasn't routine was the cute blonde, Kara, AKA Cat Grant's assistant, approaching my desk with a chirpy smile on her lips.

"Hey, Y/N," she greeted, before setting down a coffee cup in front of me.

I smiled automatically, Kara's presence instantly affecting my mood in a positive way. I glanced at the cup and quirked an eyebrow.

"Hey, Kara. Is this for me?"

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose adorably. "I was picking up Miss Grant's order and I remembered you said you loved the chocolate orange hot chocolates Noonan's do. So, I got you one."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Oh, wow, er, thank you. You didn't have to do that."

She shrugged, and I was sure she looked as flustered as I felt. "No biggie."

I took a sip of the hot chocolate and smiled at how good it was, but mostly because of who got it me.

"So, what are you doing?" she asked, walking around my desk and sitting at the edge. She glanced at my sketches and added, "Is that the new fashion post for our social media accounts? They look amazing!"

"Just some sketches, but eventually they will be," I said, before nodding. "And thanks. I just need the photos so I know what I'm working with. Gotta ask the new guy, James... you met him yet?"

Kara nodded. "Yeah, I just bumped into him earlier."

"Can you believe he knows Superman?" I asked with disbelief. "How awesome is that?"

She smiled with amusement. "Extremely awesome."

"Keira!"

Kara lost her smile when Miss Grant called for her, before looking to me apologetically. "I should–"

"It's cool," I said, nodding for her to leave before Miss Grant tracked her down. "Thanks again for the drink."

Kara flashed me a smile. "Anytime. See you later."

I watched her walk away, waving as she glanced over her shoulder. I found myself biting my lip to contain my own smile, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

Kara Danvers, assistant to Cat Grant.

Ever since she began working here, I found myself crushing on the blonde and her cute mannerisms. We were friends, occasionally hanging out outside of work and doing things together. But that's all it was, sadly. I knew she was friends with Winn – best friends, I think – and I also knew that the tech guy was practically in love with her. I didn't know him as well as I knew her, but I knew enough to not want to get in between the two of them. So, Kara Danvers remained a silly little crush.

I got back to my sketches, managing to draft up some mock-ups on Photoshop before my day ended. I was more tired than I thought that evening, ending up falling asleep earlier than usual. Which meant that I missed the biggest news in National City yet – a mystery woman saving a plane from crashing, possibly a new superhero.

I woke up the next morning to a million and one calls and texts from colleagues at CatCo, all expecting me to get on social media to post about this mystery woman. By the time I got to work that morning, I was caught up with everything and in awe at this new superhero we had. It was pretty darn awesome!

The amazement I felt however was short lived, as Cat was all over me when I got to the office, claiming I should have been on top of our social media coverage as soon as it happened. Apparently me falling asleep wasn't a valid enough point to miss it, so I was put to work instantly, working with the photography and marketing department to find some sort of coverage on this mystery hero.

As I was lining up some posts with the limited images available of this hero, I felt a presence stop by my desk and saw it was Kara.

"Morning," she greeted, before glancing at my computer. "Oh, so you heard?"

I chuckled. "Kind of hard not to. It's everywhere." I nodded to the many TVs around the office that were playing reruns of the news coverage from last night.

"Pretty cool, right?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Very, but it also means I now have a lot of work to do, especially because I fell asleep when all of this went down," I said, jokingly. "Cat has been all over me about this all morning."

Kara laughed and it was literally the best thing I'd heard all day.

"So, I was actually hoping I could tell you something," she said, an excited smile on her face as she met my eyes.

I felt a little flustered under her gaze and found myself distracting myself with my computer screen momentarily.

"I actually have a lot of things to do right now,” I said regretfully. “Maybe later?”

Her smile faded as she nodded. "Right, no, yeah, that's totally fine. Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologise," I said instantly, feeling a little bad. "I just– if I don't get this done, Cat will kill me."

"I got it, you do this, it's cool," she said reassuringly, offering me a small smile.

"Sorry," I tried, a little sad that there was nothing I could do. I really needed to get this done, despite wanting to spend some more time with Kara.

"It's fine, good luck," she said, giving me a grin and thumbs up before leaving.

I sighed, before getting back to work. Unfortunately, it was a few hours before I could get away from my desk, and I managed to track down Kara at her own desk, remembering she wanted to tell me something.

"Hey," I said, earning her attention.

She looked up from her notebook, smiling when she saw me. "Hey, you manage to get that content done?"

"Just about," I said, before offering a small smile. "Sorry again for blowing you off."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine, honestly."

"I'm free now though," I said optimistically. "Maybe we could grab an early lunch? You can talk to me then?"

Kara pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she nodded slowly. "That sounds nice actually, yeah."

I felt a little relieved when she agreed. "Great. Well, I'll let you get your things and meet you by the elevator?"

She pursed her lips, suppressing a smile. "You got it."

We ended up getting lunch, as agreed, and it was nice to make it up to her. Though, I never really noticed that she never ended up telling me whatever it was that she wanted to tell me. I was so distracted by how smoothly our lunch was going that I forgot to ask her about it. Maybe if I'd asked, she might have told me the truth. Or she might have made something up and lied. I guess I would never know.

–

Did somebody say tiny umbrella drinks? #gottalovethetinyumbrellas #CatCoFoundation [image here]

I sent yet another tweet and picture out from CatCo's Twitter account, watching as it instantly got responses from everyone. I was at an event that Cat was throwing for all CatCo employees plus special guests. It was an event to raise money for Cat's foundation – a charity for children's hospitals in National City. My job was to live-tweet the heck out of the event, hoping to boost donations online.

It was a formal event, so I was comfortably dressed in some high-waisted pants and a silk blouse, it being my best attempt at 'formal' clothes.

The event wasn't too bad. There was free food and drinks, plus I got to hang out with some of my friends from work whilst doing the bare minimum. I just wasn't an evening person, I guess.

"Hey, stranger," a voice startled me, and I turned around, surprised to see Kara Danvers stood there.

I hadn't seen much of Kara in the past few months, despite working with her. She always seemed to be caught up with Winn, and she'd gotten quite close with the not-so-new guy, James Olsen. I wasn't stalking her or anything, but I began to notice when I would try to make plans with her like we used to – little things like grabbing coffee or going to watch a film after work – and she would decline or have plans already. Then I'd see her constantly being surrounded by Winn and James, so I figured she'd just made new friends.

"Kara," I breathed out, smiling as I took in her appearance. "Hey."

I hadn't seen her at all this evening and I was sure she just showed up because I definitely would have noticed how good she looked in that fitted red dress of hers.

"You look really nice," she said, looking me up and down before meeting my eyes.

"Thanks," I said, hoping my cheeks didn't look as warm as they felt. "So do you. You liking the event?"

Kara looked around, nodding. "It's beautiful."

"You did a good job," I said, giving her a knowing smile. "I know you planned it."

"This was all Cat, I just–"

"Kara, everybody knows you plan the events around here," I told her with a chuckle. "It's okay."

She smiled to herself, looking down. "Right." It went quiet for a moment before she looked up and said, "Do you want to dance?"

I was a little taken aback by her confidence, but nonetheless, I found myself nodding. She smiled as she held out her hand. I took it, feeling goosebumps from how soft her hands were.

She led me to the dance-floor, stopping and resting a hand on my waist, the other holding my hand. I nervously rested an arm on her shoulder as I focused on swaying to the music playing rather than stepping on her toes.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in a while," she said after a moment. I looked up and saw her blue eyes staring right through me.

"Well, we've both been busy," I attempted to give a reason.

She shook her head, smiling apologetically. "No, it's not that... it's my fault. I've been hanging out with James and Winn so much lately that I've been neglecting you."

I laughed a little awkwardly. "Kara, it's okay. You don't need to feel bad for having other friends. I mean, you don't have any obligations to me. They're your best friends. Of course you're gonna hang out with them."

She pursed her lips and I admittedly felt nervous as she stared at me, her expression unreadable. She was a little taller than me which didn't help with me trying to keep my emotions in check. She was extremely close to me as we swayed to the music and I could just about focus on it as she continued to stare at me.

"What if I want to have obligations to you?" she asked, and I almost thought she was joking until I realised that she wasn't.

I wanted to understand what she meant, but I didn't get to ask because she leaned forward and closed the gap between us with her lips. I was surprised at her boldness, pinning Kara for the shy type. Nonetheless, I returned the kiss, melting into her embrace and warmth.

We pulled apart soon enough, myself a little flustered from the kiss. My lips were still tingling as she met my eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I hope that was okay," she muttered.

I nodded slowly, still surprised. "Yeah, it was."

My stomach was doing somersaults as I mirrored her smile; the gala was merely a blur in the background as I realised Kara Danvers had just kissed me. I definitely wouldn't have thought she felt something for me other than friendship.

"I'm assuming you want this to go somewhere," I said, a little stupidly.

She laughed melodiously as she nodded, intertwining her fingers in mine. "That's the plan, yes. But actually, er..."

"Second thoughts already?" I joked, though inside I was genuinely believing she might be second-guessing her decision, judging from her sudden change of facial expression.

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "It's just, I feel like we should talk first. I have to tell you something. Before this goes any further."

She sounded quite affected by whatever it was, so I nodded, losing my smile for a moment.

"Of course, you can tell me whatever you need to," I reassured her, giving her hand a little squeeze. "Do you want to talk now or after?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but tilted her head to the side as she grew distracted. I waited patiently, expecting her to snap back into reality, but she seemed caught up with something else.

"Kara? You okay?" I asked, growing a little concerned.

"What? Yeah, sorry," she said, shaking her head before meeting my eyes with apologetic ones. "I'm sorry, I have to go for a minute. I just realised I have to check on the desserts for the party."

"Oh, okay." I nodded, giving her a small smile. "You can tell me whatever it is afterwards then?"

She smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I'll be back after, I swear."

I believed her and watched as she let go of my hand, already in a rush to leave. I wondered what was so time-sensitive about desserts, but decided not to question it as I realised the very obvious and surprising fact that Kara liked me.

As she turned to leave, she quickly turned back to me and moved forward, pressing a haste kiss to my cheek. My face heated up as she flashed me a beautiful smile, before moving to leave.

Just danced with the most beautiful girl in the room #CatCoFoundation

I looked up and saw Kara by the door, about to leave, but she stopped when her phone vibrated. After glancing at the screen, she paused and a wide smile graced her lips. Her eyes lifted and she gave me a knowing look before disappearing. I found myself smiling like an idiot the rest of the night.

I guess I should have realised, once again, that Kara never ended up telling me whatever it was that she wanted to tell me. I was so caught up in the fact that she returned my feelings that I never remembered to ask her what it was that she wanted to say. Maybe if I'd remembered, things would have ended up a little differently.

–

Kara and I went on some dates, our relationship blossoming naturally. It was the best thing to happen to me at the time – finding someone who I thought truly understood me, and vice versa. We had inside jokes, an 'our song', a favourite restaurant we frequented; we were happy and it was amazing. I was really falling for her. I thought she was perfect. Nothing could change that, I thought. She was everything I wanted.

"What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?" Kara asked, tilting her head to look at me.

It was moments like this when I was in awe of her beauty, inside and out. She was comfortable, with her hair tied in a loose ponytail and her face makeup-free. Her glasses were balanced on her nose as she stared at me with an easygoing smile and sparkling eyes. I felt a sudden overwhelming flood of love for her as she waited for me to reply.

"I'm in love with you," I blurted out uncontrollably.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, mouth agape as she realised what I said.

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head. "That was random. And weird. Too soon, right? I freaked you out. I'm sorry."

Kara blinked several times, straightening up as she shook her head. "No, it's not, it's..." I watched her with anticipation, as she found her words. "It's fine. It's... I feel the same way."

It was my turn to be surprised now. I raised my eyebrows, a smile forming on my lips. "You do?"

Kara pursed her lips, eyes flickering up to meet mine. "Yeah."

I breathed out. "I'm really happy to hear that, especially because I thought I freaked you out, but like, I feel like something is bothering you, Kara."

Resting a hand on hers, I squeezed it gently. She offered me a small, troubled smile and I wondered what was occupying her thoughts.

"I trust you," she said gently. "I do. I love you. And I... I want you to know that I think what we have is amazing. I've never been happier."

"This sounds like a breakup," I joked, chuckling nervously. She wouldn't break up with me right after saying 'I love you', right?

"No, no, it's not!" she reassured immediately, taking any doubt from my mind. She leaned forward and cupped my cheek gently. "I'm not breaking up with you, silly."

"Good to know," I said playfully, resting my hand on hers and moving it to my lips, kissing it softly. "What is it though? What's on your mind? You can tell me anything you know."

She nodded. "I know... I can. I will. Now."

I stayed quiet, watching as she had some inner conflict going on. What was bothering her so much?

"I want to say that I–"

But she was cut off by her phone ringing. She rolled her eyes and I offered her an approving smile as she reached to answer it.

"Alex, hey, what's up?"

I sat back, keeping ahold of Kara's hand as she listened to Alex on the phone.

"Are you sure?" Kara said, concern in her voice.

I wondered what was going on, as the blonde was scrunching her brows together with worry. Her hand slipped from mine as she stood up, pacing.

"Okay, I'll be there now," she finished, before hanging up.

"Hey, that sounded serious, is everything okay?" I asked, standing up, too.

Kara nodded, already in the process of grabbing her things. "Yeah, sorry, it's just some family stuff with Alex. I should get going and help her out." She stopped moving and turned to face me, a distracted frown on her face. "I'm sorry. I know we were supposed to spend the evening together and I wanted to tell you something, but–"

"It's fine, Kara, you can just tell me another time," I cut her off, moving forward and rubbing her arm gently. "I hope everything is okay with Alex. I'll just see you at work tomorrow, yeah?"

Kara smiled tightly, nodding. "You're too understanding. It's annoyingly admirable."

I chuckled, stepping forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. She had a few inches on me, so I had to step on my tip toes to reach, but seeing the little smile appear on her lips when I did made it worth it.

"Don't get stressed about whatever it is you wanna tell me," I added, meeting her eyes. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I love you and I'm really lucky to have you in my life. I don't think anything will ruin that. Just... remember that, okay?"

Kara nodded, her eyes flickering to the floor. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I'll leave you to it," I said, moving away to grab my coat and put on my shoes. "Good luck with whatever is up, and see you tomorrow."

As I was about to leave, her voice called out, "I love you, too."

I smiled widely at her before leaving, feeling lightweight because of all the love that was bubbling around inside of me. Once again, Kara managed to distract me from the fact that she had something big to tell me, as when I followed up the next day, she assured me that she just wanted me to know that she sometimes moved too fast in relationships and she didn't want me to feel like I was being rushed.

I believed her, blinded by what I thought was my happy ending, and that was that.

[hollenka99]

Not The Boy He Once Knew

Summary: Even if he’s not the best at always showing it, Phil cares about his sons. But when one leaves home and goes down a dark path, all Phil wants is for his little soldier boy to come home safely.

Warnings: Death, stabbing

This is based on Obscuritea’s Little Soldier Boy animatic. You can find them on Twitter at @/0bscuritea.

Phil remembered holding his children for the first time. He could have watched Techno's little snout twitch for as long as his eldest would allow him. Wilbur stared at everything, as if it was mandatory for him to visually absorb as much of the world around him as possible. This included the young pig boy hovering by door, unsure whether he wanted to meet the one who was had made him a big brother. Tommy was a wriggler, that was for sure, always trying to get into a better position within the blanket. Wilbur certainly didn't help things when he clambered onto the sofa in order to push himself through the space under Phil's free arm so he could get a better view of the baby.

Many summer afternoons were spent sitting in the shade of trees, watching his sons play with each other. Sometimes, he'd even be out there strumming on his guitar while doing so. The older Wilbur and Techno got, the more they liked to engage in rough play. More than once, Tommy would be happily sitting on his lap before finding himself caught up in the latest rough and tumble session.

One day while his two eldest are 12 and 9 respectively, Phil is horrified to see them return home from a night time adventure in the nearby woods with blood on their person. It would seem that they'd run into a number of zombies and skeletons. Wilbur had tripped and this had caused Techno to make use of his axe. Most of the blood wasn't even theirs so they argued it wasn't a big deal. As Phil retrieves the bread he has on hand for situations like these, he scolds his boys for being reckless. There wouldn't have even been any mobs about if they'd gone out in the day. Just because death was a three strikes and you're out kind of deal didn't mean they could risk injury or worse for the sake of fun. Now, were there any cuts or scrapes they wanted him to look at? Just the one on Techno's snout? Well alright, best get that sorted then off to bed.

During a week where his attention had been directed perhaps everywhere except towards Wilbur, he notices the light is still on in his room. Good. With a knock, he gets invited in. An apology is issued, after which Phil pulls out some wheat and cocoa beans he had lying around. The boy in his early teens acts as if his eyes don't momentarily light up once it clicks what those ingredients are for. When he makes excuses about being too old to be bribed with cookies as well as pointing out that it was getting late, Phil calls his bluff. Come on, let this be his way of saying sorry tonight then he promises tomorrow morning they can have a guitar session, just the two of them. Wilbur rolls his eyes but heads to the kitchen regardless. Phil's glad he does because that is the first time Wilbur plays an original song he was in the process of creating with him as the audience. It was only a shame that incidences like these were becoming few and far between. He wasn't going to catch every time Wilbur felt ignored, especially if the kid slowly stop attempting to get his attention as often in the first place.

It's an odd feeling when Wilbur says his goodbyes. The years have passed so quickly it's hard to believe his little boy isn't quite so little anymore. However, his second son had been a budding musician for as long as he'd had the dexterity for it. It would be impossible to forget how he had beamed with such intensity upon being gifted his first guitar, so much so that Phil had slightly worried he might injure his mouth or jaw somehow. He'll be fine. Phil had nothing to worry about. Besides, Tommy had already made the journey himself a few weeks ago and it sounded like he was already making friends.

Life carries on with Techno helping out with the farming and the occasional correspondence arriving from the other two. When he hears about drugs in a van, he rolls his eyes. Trust them to do something ridiculous like that. It's less humourous when the word 'war' begins to get thrown around. Then shortly afterwards, Techno is leaving to assist his brothers in their endeavours. This results in an argument as Techno packs. By all means, help Wilbur and Tommy but don't get involved in a war that wasn't his to fight. Phil's anxiety regarding his sons' wellbeing grows due to talk of plans to win back L'Manburg after a failed election resulted in an apparent dictatorship. The more days that passed, the stronger his desire to have all his boys back home safely with him grew.

He sits alone at a table that had once been abundant with life. Once again, Tommy has sent him a letter regarding the situation over there. He was getting scared of his brother's apparent obsession with potentially destroying the nation in a blast. Wilbur had even been heard wondering if Phil would be proud of him. Given the current circumstances, he wasn't so sure how to answer. Tommy had even confessed that both he and Wilbur were on their last lives which petrified Phil more than any of the bad news he'd gotten so far. However, his son was right. Enough was enough.

It was time for Phil to make his way to L'Manburg.

He almost finds it funny how Wilbur's voice immediately morphs into the defensiveness of a child as soon as he realises his father has entered his secret detonation room. It was honestly reminiscent of times such as when he got caught stalking a chicken to gain the egg necessary for a pumpkin pie, said pumpkin being dragged behind him by the stalk. However, his son wasn't 4 anymore. Wilbur was a grown man who had proven himself to maintain less than innocent thoughts and motivations.

But Phil was his father nevertheless. And he would talk him out of this 'blow up L'Manburg' plan like others such as Tommy had previously done. Besides, he knew Wilbur. Deep down, that boy didn't have it in him to cause that much destruction, let alone risk instigating any potential loss of life. All he had to do was calmly talk him down.

L'Manburg had been won back. Even with Wilbur yelling in frustration about the several times he came close to pressing the button, that could be seen as a sign of strength. They could agree to not do anything rash then gradually dismantle the vast quantity of TNT hidden in the walls. The notion that Wilbur would risk triggering the button to see if it was actually rigged is so absurd it makes Phil laugh aloud.

He's certainly not in the mood to laugh within a minute of that moment. By the time thirty or so seconds have elapsed, he is on top of his son, both of them on the ground with only dust and rubble left of what had been the secret underground room. Wilbur had been talking about Eret one second before uttering the infamous line of "it was never meant to be" the next. Phil doesn't think it had truly registered in his mind that the explosives were about to go off when he leapt to protect his son from them.

This couldn't be happening. He knew Wilbur, he knew that he would never be capable of blowing up L'Manburg. Except Wilbur was. He... he had.

It's as Wilbur is screaming into the sky about his unfinished symphony remaining forever unfinished that the reality of his personal mistake makes itself known to Phil. Tommy had warned him that Wilbur was going off the rails. He'd said that Phil shouldn't let his guard be lowered around his brother. The second born of their family was currently not to underestimated.

That grin, that sheer ecstasy upon achieving his goal, the way Wilbur revelled in his 'victory'. Well, what more proof did Phil need to know he'd done the exact things he'd been warned against?

He barely has the chance to acknowledge that before Wilbur is demanding the unimaginable from him. No, perhaps 'demand' isn't the right word. Begging might be more appropriate. A sword is tossed at his feet, an invitation for it to be used. He can't though. Not this. Anything but this. The punishment for reversing countless hours of dedicated hard work should not be a death sentence. That simply does not equate.

"God, you're- You're my son! No matter what you do, no matter what you act like, I can't..."

And it's true. This was the kid who would (along with Tommy most of the time) go on epic adventures to claim treats in chests which were placed high up for the exact purpose of deterring such behaviour. He was the one who'd be found sneaking off to the surrounding caves and mines for the sake of exploration. It was him who practised his rallying speech skills on his brothers and father. More than that, Wilbur was a talented musician who liked writing songs and loved his family. He wasn't some irredeemable criminal who deserved to die to pay for the pain he'd caused.

Phil was not going to give Wilbur what he wanted. At least, he was against it until he realised this was about more than punishment or penitence. This was him asking someone he trusted to free him from the burden of all his wrongdoings. Wilbur wanted peace in his life again. And what kind of father would he be if he couldn't give his son that?

He grabs the sword. If he's going to do this, he'd rather make it as fast as possible. The last thing he wants is the suffering of a loved one. Wilbur tenses as the blade finds its way into his chest then exits. The gasps and stuttered breaths are worse than his son begging for death a minute ago. It's okay, he mutters. Just breathe through it. It'll be alright in a moment. Phil doesn't know whether him stroking Wilbur's hair is helping at all but somehow, it's helping Phil himself so that's good enough. The hand gripping his side begins to lose strength. He lets out a grief-stricken groan as he holds his son as tightly as he can.

"You couldn't just let- you couldn't just win?" There is no response, not even a hint of it.

The walls blown apart, he knows everyone can see him. But what does he care? Wilbur's head rests against his father's chest, arms loosely drooping towards the floor and body slumping alongside it. When he inevitably forces himself to let go, to leave the remains of this godforsaken room and... and bury his son's body back home, he's aware he'll have to face the fact his lap is stained with blood. But that can wait for as long as he can delay it.

For now though, he'll sit here with his eyes closed. Maybe that way he can somehow convince himself he's just holding the little boy who loved finding his way into his father's arms whenever he was drowsy, albeit an enlarged version. It's all he can do to keep the tears and questions of how this could have been prevented at bay.

[vesuviannights]

The halls of Vesuvia’s Palace are shrouded in shadow and barely-there flickering candlelight. The sound of laughter and dancing from the party having long faded, a lone shadow stalks through the eastern corridors, her heeled footsteps silent as she watches her target through a narrowed gaze. 

Lucio x Ariana (My apprentice). Lemon.

**

This is something a little different for you to read, if it tickles your pickle! I’ve always got ideas for my own MCs floating around, and this one with Ariana (my assassin) and Lucio has always been an interesting one that I wanted to bring to life.

I won’t tell you much about her, as you will quite quickly gather what type of a person she is from reading this, but if you do have any questions after just hit me up.

This was really just an excuse for me to play around more with her character, write in 3rd person (which I’ve been really missing), and y’know, write some more ~lemony shenannigans~.

**

The halls of Vesuvia’s Palace are shrouded in shadow and barely-there flickering candlelight. The late hour has instilled them with a chill that seeps into every stone wall and tapestry, and has sent the guests still lingering outside of the grand hall back into the party in search of liquor and laughter.

The hall, in all its warmth and riotous glory, is packed with every guest the Count could dare to imagine welcoming into his palace, and not a single soul would dare besmirch their reputation and good rapport with him by turning down such an honourable invite.

Well, not a soul, with the exception of Vesuvia’s Assassin.

The sound of laughter and dancing having long faded, a lone shadow stalks through the eastern corridors, her heeled footsteps silent as she watches her target through a narrowed gaze.

A long blade spins slowly between her lithe fingers, its twin tucked into the holster at her thigh, the action careful but almost bored, the movement of too long spent in the one place—though perhaps the restlessness wasn’t in standing still, but simply in spending too long waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The target in question, the one she was waiting to leave twitching and gasping in a puddle of their own blood while the assassin skipped over her with a delighted hum and headed back to the party for more schnapps, was a positively vile creature, perhaps the worst she had ever had to do away with.

From what the assassin had seen earlier at the party—the woman’s genuine laugh, her eye for fine liquor, the way people gravitated toward her—it seemed almost a shame to kill her. The woman was a true beauty, charismatic and manipulative in a way that the assassin almost admired, and seemed genuinely well liked.

But almost as soon as that mildly disappointed thought enters the assassin’s mind, it is followed the image of that scene, the atrocities she had been forced to witness, those acts that would be driving the hilt of her blade as she slashed its edge through the woman’s throat and sprayed her blood in a wondrous pattern all over the palace walls.

The memory of having to witness those very atrocities immediately banishes any thought the assassin had of mercy or lenience or admiration. Indeed, it would have been such a shame to take her from the world, if she did not have to atone for her crimes against the city and humanity.

With a soft if not exasperated sight, the assassin turns her attentions back to her hit. The woman, accompanied by two of her twittering friends, has stopped to converse with some servants, and they appear to know each other well.

Very well. Painfully well.

So well that they have been here for 15 whole minutes with absolutely no gods damn signs of fucking leaving.

The assassin growls from her position just beyond the corner, pressed into the shadows in wait.

Would the woman not move?!

She needed her alone. She couldn’t very well off her if she was in front of people, could she? It would be awful for business, look terrible for her flawless track record, would mean extra bodies that were completely innocent, and not to mention that—and this really was perhaps the first concern she should have had, above her own image and kill count—by bearing or risking witnesses of any sort, people might actually realise the palace magician and the Assassin of Vesuvia were the very same person.

Well, they probably wouldn’t—people were insanely dumb no matter the corner of the world you were in—but she wasn’t one of them, and she wouldn’t be leaving evidence or witnesses.

Just a single twitching, bloodless, lifeless body of a faithless heathen on the palace’s polished floors.

The woman laughs, the sound echoing down the corridor, immediately echoed by her twittering friends. With a roll of her eyes the assassin mimics her, moving her mouth with a silent scoff before turning away and—

“Now what, my dearest kitten, would you be doing so very far from my party?”

Before her, and in a very alarming proximity considering her skillset, is the Count of Vesuvia himself, accompanied by his trademark crooked smile and glinting jewel at his canine tooth.

The smile, as glorious as it is, tells her that he doesn’t realise there was only a fraction of a moment between her snapping his neck in her default response, and the assassin actually recognising him for who he is.

And despite knowing her lethal senses quite intimately, Lucio is already so close, pressed right up against her side. His golden arm is resting against the wall, the claws lazily tapping against it as he observes her. 

Had she not been so distracted by his closeness, by the shock of being caught out, she might have snapped at him to keep it down.

But she does not. Instead, she watches as his eyes rake, so so slowly, down her body. Her knife is already stashed safely back in its hilt at her thigh, the movement but a wisp of her sheer dress the moment she had spied him. He would not have seen, too distracted by his own crooning and purring, by his own focus on wasting no time getting as close to her as possible.

But despite not having seen, he is clearly still looking for something specific on her person, even though his bedroom eyes and pointed canines tell her it is merely a root.

Crooking an eyebrow and one corner of her lips to match his own, she doubles down in her efforts to distract him, rolling her lip between her teeth because she knows he loves it so.

“I was getting some air,” she answers, her voice low, sultry.

He makes a quiet noise of agreement, tilting his head to watch the roll of her lip. “We have much of it back in the ballroom. Perhaps you encountered it?”

“The people there were boring me. You know I can never sit still for very long.”

And despite how well her distraction is working, how very easy it is to manipulate him with a few bites of her lip and a low purr in her throat, it is such a fucking battle not to let her eyes wander to her periphery, to not turn her head a fraction to try and spy the woman she had been waiting to see leave, but she can’t risk him realising exactly why she’s so far from the party.

A screech of frustration echoes through her mind when she hears the familiar sounds of departure, the sounds of laughter and of the woman wishing whoever she was speaking to a fair night, promising that she would see them in the morning for brunch in the square.

And even though her eyes are locked on Lucio’s lips, and even though she has not been paying attention to a word he has said since she told him of her boredom, she can’t help but let a wicked little turn appear at the corner of her lips as a sly little thought crosses her mind.

You are a liar, too, my lady. You won’t be making it anywhere beyond a puddle of your own blood in this very palace.

“Daydreaming, are we?” Lucio croons.

“Only about you,” she answers smoothly, not missing a beat. As she speaks, she walks her fingers up the exposed part of his chest, her nails raking lightly over his collarbones.

And he takes the bait, like a horny little moth to the prettiest flame in the desert.

“Oh no, kitten,” he purrs to her. “You make a very different face when you are daydreaming about what I can do to you. Perhaps you just need reminding.”

He presses a little closer, and before she has her chance to argue or slip away, he has her completely against the wall, his lips sliding along hers with an intoxicating groan.

And despite all of her best instincts, her lethal training, her practised choices, her manipulative ways, she melts immediately into his touch, into the gentle rocking of his hips as he pins each wrist to the wall and slowly pushes them above her head.

His lips suckle gently at every one of her favourite spots, making spots of light pop in her vision, making her swallow back groan after groan as she tries so desperately to listen for the woman’s retreating footsteps, to discern the exact direction she went in so that she can continue after her hit as soon as she breaks free from the devil’s grasp.

And when she finally does catch those footsteps, she squirms and curses under her breath, the sound almost pitiful in its frustration. She is caught, pinned, ensnared in a trap of her own making with no way out.

And he must think it’s all for him, the frustrated groans and the squirming and pouting, because he chuckles and tuts into her neck, and then—

“Now what do we have here?”

She swipes out, but some things are a little too clouded by her frustration of her hit getting away, and everything else is too hazy with lust from the feel of Lucio’s lips on her neck, his wandering lithe fingers, his cock pressing into her hip.

She misses her grab by mere millimetres, and Lucio steps back from her and into the light of the corridor. 

He holds Saeren in his palm, the blade glinting as he twirls the gold-inlaid hilt in his hand. The movement is smooth, easy, practiced, and only serves to infuriate her all the more as he cocks a sly eyebrow at her, waiting for her response.

She growls. “Give it back.”

“You know I prefer my knife play to be behind locked doors.”

“Give it back!”

Lucio laughs, and he’s clearly having such a great time, and she’s still so frazzled and frustrated. She growls at him and shoves at his chest.

Fucking count. Fucking cunt. How dare he—

She takes two tremulous steps in the direction the woman had gone, her furious words and curses rushing around in her lust-addled mind, and then spins around to point at him, hair whipping around her body in the rush of the movement.

“You said you would never interfere with my work,” she growls, almost choked. “You promised. It was all I asked of you.”

“And I keep my promises to you, my love. Each and every one.”

She scoffs and looks away. Tutting almost inaudibly, he steps up to her, takes her chin between his fingertips, forces her gaze to his.

And she gives it to him, but the look that comes with it says she also hopes it burns a hole in his pretty fucking face.

“I happen to be very aware that your hit list never includes the innocent,” he murmurs to her, cocking his head just a fraction.

“She was hardly innocent!”

“Since when is flirting a crime?”

Her jaw goes tight at his words, and she literally has to bite down on her tongue to stop herself from spitting venom at him. She looks off once more, and so he leans in—Saeren still well out of reach and white-knuckle tight in his grip—and kisses her jaw, all the while murmuring to her, crooning.

“Use your words, my little wraith.”

She says nothing. Refuses to heed, to cave, to concede. Instead, she pushes out at him again, but it’s half-hearted and he doesn’t even stumble, merely presses her against the wall a little more.

“Go on,” he murmurs. “I happen to know you have many of them, not merely just curses for my delighted ears, or for people who flirt with me at parties in front of you.”

She rolls her tongue between her teeth, the movement slow and seemingly distracted, before she takes her chance to snap and pounce. 

She swipes out for Saeren again with a growl, but he still holds it a little too high for her, twisting it in his grip and away from her body, still pinned by his weight.

If it were any other man she would have had him on the floor already. Wouldn’t have let herself be so distracted by his pretty words and manipulative touches. Wouldn’t have even given him the chance to steal her favourite blade from her.

No.

If he were any other man, she would have snapped his fucking neck, taken Saeren from his still-twitching fingers and skipped down the hall to finish her hit.

But he is not any other man. 

He is Lucio, and his lips are so wonderful, and do such delicious things that in a matter of moments he has softened her escape attempts once more, as has the feel of his cock rocking into her aching pussy.

She finally gives with an audible huff and murmurs, her glance pointedly off toward the other end of the corridor. “I was only going to make her scream a little.”

At this, he chuckles softly into her jaw. “Oh, my sweet little shadow.”

And then his fingertips are caressing her inner thigh as they lift her dress, the sheer fabric shifting up her skin until it exposes Saeren’s empty sheath. He slips the blade in with a soft nip to her jaw before he speaks again.

“Perhaps you would benefit from taking that jealousy out in healthier ways—ones that encourage stability?”

She smirks, shivering a little as her dress slivers back down her bare legs. “Are those Julian’s ‘therapy words’ words I hear?”

“My doctor no longer has any say in our bedroom antics.”

“So you were lying the other day when you said you wanted him to come back and pl—”

To shut her up in one of the only successful ways he seems to know, Lucio drags his teeth, his sharp little fox canines, right along the curve of her jaw.

And like a needy little puppet she keens and presses her entire body into his, her hands smoothing around his shoulders to grasp at the hair at the back of his head. He rocks into her, groaning and grunting into her neck, while she whispers a furious little chant of yes yes yes.

And it quickly becomes not enough, and the hand still twisted in the fabric of her dress pulls and pushes it to her waist and then delves in between her legs to find her already bare in her usual party fashion. He groans, his shoulders rolling in delight as he wastes no time slipping a finger into her and crooking it forward, making her sigh out.

And he loves her noises, every sigh and cry and whimper and moan, and he is greedy for more. He slips a second finger in and sinks his teeth into her shoulder, just over the scar she received when she’d fallen through the roof trying to stalk him through the city all that time ago, when her memories and body had been new again and she had struggled to gain those skills and muscle memories back.

It was his favourite place to sink his teeth into, and unlike the other places he liked to do it, he never drew blood and always took care to sweep his tongue over to sooth her skin.

“Fuck—Lucio—”

“Yes, my little shadow, my glorious wraith?”

She whines, pulls his hair a little harder until she can yank his head back to spy his eyes, hazed with lust and absolutely ravenous and wild. His cock is hard against her thigh, twitching at the sight of her parted lips and heaving chest.

“I swear to the gods if you don’t give me what I want—”

“What you want is a very lovely and very married woman very dead and my cock stretching that needy little cunt of yours to assure you she’s not a threat, and I’m sorry to say that you can only have one of those things.”

He nudges her thighs apart with his knee and presses it against the wall, lifting her up so that she is eye level. She rocks her hips against it, trying to get herself off on his thigh like a fucking horny adolescent, and he watches her with a glint that says he could honestly do so for hours.

In her desperate movements, she vaguely hears the sound of his zipper shifting, the heat of his cock escaping as he takes it in his hand and moves on it with long, firm pulls as he waits for her.

“So which will it be, wraith?” He asks, his voice with a lethal edge that says she might not get a choice in the matter, and for Lucio—only for Lucio—she will let him take that choice away.

“Fuck me!” She gasps out. “Just—fuck me, please!”

He slams his lips to hers as he slams her thighs apart, the length of him pressing along her aching cunt. He rolls his hips, his cock sliding up her wetness, making her keen and whimper and babble, all of her wicked little sounds echoing off the walls and hitting his ears, causing him to groan in delight.

“Yes—give me all of your wonderful noises, let the palace hear how I make my wraith scream in delight—”

He sinks his teeth into her neck, closes his lips to suckle on the skin he has caught as he lines the head of his cock up with her entrance.

He thrusts into her in one movement, buried to the hilt in a fraction of a moment. She cries out, her nails sinking into his shoulders, hard enough to be felt through the fabric of his dress shirt, so close to dragging blood as they pull along it, causing him to hiss her name into the shadowed night.

His thrusts are brutal and unforgiving, bruising her almost instantly, causing her back to scratch and graze against the cobble behind her, ripping and ruining the sheer fabric of her dress.

The carnal noises he makes into her throat, the wet sounds of his cock as it thrusts into her over and over, have her grappling with reality, shoving his shirt open so she can drag her fingernails down the centre of his chest, rest little marks criss-crossed for the world to see.

“YES! Yes, oh gods—”

She buries her hand in his hair and yanks his mouth up to hers, biting down on his bottom lip, pulling the coppery tang of blood from it. The pain makes him shudder, his fingertips pressing a little harder into her hips, bruising her in every way she was marking him.

And she starts to come apart all too quickly, the taste of his blood, the bruising of her lips and her hips and her inner walls, the feel of his sharp little canines against her pulse when she finally releases his lip from her gnawing hold.

She screams out, a song for every corner of the palace to revel in, the sound starting low in her throat and becoming a choked sob, a prayer to the highest gods on the mountain as her body shudders and convulses.

Lucio hisses into her neck, encouraging her, adoring her, his teeth sinking into a new patch of flesh every few seconds in an attempt to draw newer and longer sounds from her. His orgasm follows soon after with only a moment’s notice, his thighs quaking, the tips of his claws sinking into her hips, causing pinpricks of sharp pain as he groans into her neck and spills his seed into her.

He sags against her, the two breathing hard and heavy as the world comes back to them. The palace is oddly quiet around them, though it has nothing to do with the ringing silence after her screams and everything to do with the fact that they had, as usual, chased away every servant and courtier and guest within a 100ft radius as soon as they had picked up on what was happening.

Her thighs still quivering with the aftermath of her orgasm, Lucio gently lowers her to the ground, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her cheek as he leans his entire body into hers. His lips move slowly downward, leaving wet little patches wherever they go, until they settle just below her ear.

He sighs softly into her, murmurs something to her before saying a little louder, “Are you still plotting murder?”

“I’m certainly contemplating plotting it.”

Lucio chuckles into her neck, gives her another open-mouthed kiss that smacks a little when he pulls away, leaving a wet patch that instantly cools her heated skin.

“Perhaps I am not doing my job well enough, then,” he answers. “My second favourite version of you is the one who can’t remember her own name, let alone the name of the woman she’s plotting to do away with.”

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth as he pulls back to eye her over. “And your favourite version of me?”

“The one with her eyes alight from the thrill of a kill and covered in the blood of wrongdoers.”

She rolls her eyes and looks off, his last word killing the last of her temptations to sneak away and do away with the woman anyway. She supposed, as insolent and vulgar and obvious as the woman’s attempts had been to snake her way into the Count’s bed, she did not deserve to die for it.

Yet.

Lucio takes her hand and steps her away from the wall, looking her over with an appreciative hiss. She glances down to spy her dress—completely obliterated—and the bruises on her inner thighs from where he had been gripping her—already yellowing—along with the 5 pinpricks of blood just barely showing through the sheer fabric at her hip from where his claws had sunk into her.

“What a mess I’ve made of you,” Lucio says. His expression is innocent, but his tone is anything but. “Perhaps I should say goodbye to my guests early so I can improve on it.”

“I’ll meet you upstairs, then.”

“Alri—” Lucio cuts himself off, his eyebrows high before he shakes his head and sighs at her. There’s an amused lilt there at her last-ditch attempt to be left alone, and he seems to find so much delight in it that he pulls her in for another kiss, hands tangled in her hair, lips bruising hers.

“Sometimes, my dearest wraith,” Lucio murmurs into her lips, pushing the hair from her face. “I think you might be the devil.”

“Sometimes,” she returns, the corners of her lips flicking up to match the glint in her eyes. “I think I might be too.”

[just-an-anxious-mess]

Get Rid Of Me (Part 1 of 2)

Second Part

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of suicidal thoughts, blood, suicide attempts.

Also I’m actually sorry for this one, it was quite draining for me to write.

Anxiety stared out of the window, entranced by the moonlight that streamed into his room and lit everything up almost as brightly as the sun did. He loved looking at the moon. For some reason he always felt much calmer when looking at it.

He managed to tear his eyes away from the window and climbed into bed, the moon unable to keep the thoughts at bay for long. Today had been particularly terrible. He'd had a mild panic attack which caused Thomas to have one too when he was about to go on stage for an audition.

Roman had been furious and just about managed to get Thomas through the audition. Afterwards he'd proper laid into Anxiety with harsh words to tell him how he always made things worse.

Anxiety closed his eyes with a sigh, he could handle what Roman said because it was no worse than how he described himself. The one thing that had stung slightly was the comment Logan had then made about him being a disorder rather than an actual trait so it was expected of him to mess everything up for the rest of them.

Apparently he was never meant to exist and should have been erased long ago. Anxiety wasn't a trait everyone had and people even took medication to get rid of it.

Suddenly Anxiety had a thought. What if Thomas were to take it? How would it affect him? Did he really care anymore? He was tired of the comments and horrible feelings he was forced to carry. Maybe if Thomas took the medication it would kill him and he'd finally be able to relax.

Anxiety ran a hand down his face, ignoring the fact he smudged his eye makeup and tried to think of the cons behind Thomas taking the medication. He couldn't think of any.

With this he decided to try and get at least an hours sleep before he pushed the idea into Thomas's mind.

The next morning Anxiety woke up in a cold sweat, his sleep having been plagued by the usual nightmares.

He stood up on shaky legs and tried to think of how he could broach the idea of Thomas taking medication. Eventually he decided to just mention the idea to him.

He waited until Thomas was alone and popped up next to him.

"hey Thomas." he greeted and felt more confident about his question when Thomas flinched and then groaned quietly at realising who had turned up.

"what is it Anxiety?" Thomas asked warily.

"I was thinking that I've been making you feel particularly bad recently and I was going to suggest you take anxiety medication to try and prevent me from being tempted to mess with you as much." Anxiety managed to keep his voice level throughout his sentence.

Thomas frowned at this, unsure why Anxiety would suddenly suggest he take meds but the idea sure was tempting. "I'll consider it and if I think that it could be a good idea I'll try it"

Anxiety nodded and sank back into the mind space, disappearing into his room immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thomas scrolled through Twitter and Tumblr, occasionally liking and replying to his fans when he stumbled across a post someone had shared.

It was a long paragraph of someone describing how much their anxiety used to rule their life until they were properly diagnosed and medicated and now they felt much better and could do everything with minimum stress.

It was definitely starting to sound appealing and he found himself almost dialling the number for a clinic but he hesitated as a thought struck him.

How would the medicine effect Anxiety? Would it just make him more relaxed or tired? Or maybe it would hurt him or even kill him? Thomas shuddered and put his phone down. He couldn't take the risk that it would seriously harm Anxiety.

Thomas wondered if he should consult Logan about the situation but before he could Roman popped up with a brand new idea for a video.

"Hello Thomas, I've just thought of a marvellous idea for your next video." he said with a flourish and a large proud grin.

"Cool. I was actually about to call Logan for some advice about something but you might also be able to help me." Thomas said, shifting his weight awkwardly as he tried to think of the right words to bring up.

"Of course I can help you, I am the Prince. That's what I'm here for." Roman said brushing imaginary dirt off of his clothes.

Thomas took a deep breath before asking "do you think I should take medication for my anxiety?"

Roman frowned and thought for a while, trying to think of why Thomas would hesitate.

"why of course. That's got to be one of the best ideas you've had, it will make everything a whole lot easier for us to work in a productive positive way." He said, gesturing his arms wildly.

"you don't think it'll harm Anxiety in any way?" Thomas asked, slightly less hesitant.

Roman paused momentarily, he hadn't thought of that. "I don't think it will, it's a great idea but how did you come up with it?" he asked, slightly annoyed that Thomas hadn't needed him for thinking up the idea.

"well actually, Anxiety told me he thought it'd make him less tempted to mess everything up." Thomas explained.

Roman felt a flash of anger and jealousy. He was the one who was supposed to help Thomas have ideas, not Anxiety. "well for once I agree with him and if he suggested it then there's no way it'd harm him, he'd never do anything that would put his life in danger." Roman said, his anger showing slightly in the way he grit his teeth.

Thomas considered this and shrugged, accepting Romans logic of the situation." OK, if your sure I guess I'll call the clinic and book an appointment or something."

Roman beamed and synced out with a cheerful goodbye. As he popped back into the mind space he let his smile drop and he stomped furiously towards his room. How did he not think of that before Anxiety of all people? He slammed his bedroom door and tried to calm his breathing. At least it would be better soon.

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

Anxiety stayed in his room for the rest of the day unsure if Thomas would actually listen to his idea until he heard him arranging an appointment.

He felt his lip twitch into a shadow of a smile but only for half a second before his face went back to normal. He'd accomplished the first step, all he had to do now was wait and then down play the effects of the tablets until it was too late.

He knew the others wouldn't let him kill himself but that was merely because they didn't want to feel guilty or like they failed to 'save' someone. It definitely wasn't because they cared that was for sure.

Before he knew it the day of the appointment arrived and Anxiety decided if today was his last day then he'd try and see just how much he could affect Thomas and how pissed off he could make the others.

Thomas was getting ready to go when he suddenly had a thought. "what if they don't believe me?" he muttered, causing him to pause midway through putting his jacket on. "what if they say I don't need the medication and I'm just a bit paranoid. Or worse what happens if they think I'm crazy and they put me in a psychiatric ward?" Thomas started to panic until Roman appeared.

"Thomas, relax. Everything is going to be fine." he said comfortingly and breathed a sigh of relief as it worked, until Anxiety popped up.

"is it though? From an outsiders perspective you talk to yourself and if that doesn't scream split personality disorder then I don't know what does." Anxiety tried to speak in a normal voice but he was also terrified of the doctor refusing to medicate Thomas or finding out that Thomas could see aspects of his personality.

Roman was getting annoyed by Anxietys constant interruptions with negative comments. "you're being ridiculous Anxiety. Just stop making him miserable for once in his life." he snapped, sending a glare full of hatred at the darker trait.

Anxiety inhaled sharply but pretended to ignore Romans comment. "Thomas if you don't hurry up you're going to be late and you'll never get the medication. You'll turn up too late and you won't be able to see the doctor and then you'll be too embarrassed at wasting the doctors time that you'll never want to phone them up again." Anxiety got lost in a tangent of worst case scenario, his voice getting higher and his words more rushed.

It wasn't until Roman shouted at him to shut up that Anxiety realised what he'd been doing and how close he'd been to saying they'd never be rid of him without the medication.

Thomas eventually left and Anxiety and Roman were forced to sync down.

"can't you just leave him alone for one day?" Roman asked and if Anxiety didn't know him better he would have said he was pleading with him.

Anxiety shook his head, not sure he'd be able to keep his voice steady. He'd actually tried to be like the others but it didn't work and it always ended up effecting Thomas negatively so he'd given up.

Romans anger was steadily building and as he took in Anxietys bored expression he couldn't help but make an angry comment. "just leave Thomas alone, go mope in your bedroom and stop popping up to make his life miserable. At least when he takes the medication he'll probably feel much better and it'll probably chill you out." with this last comment he spun on his heel and stalked towards his room, almost missing the soft "OK fine, you'll never see me again."

Roman struggled not to turn around and kept walking, Anxiety was only talk. Right?

Anxietys face fell as soon as Roman had turned around and he slowly began making his way to his room, anticipating when Thomas would take the medication.

He locked his door, making sure to put his wardrobe and chest of drawers in front of it in case Roman tried to kick it down like last time when he'd accidentally given Thomas a panic attack.

He shuddered at that memory. He'd barely been a trait for a week and Roman was so angry he'd actually hit him. He'd apologised a couple days later when Anxiety explained he hadn't meant to give Thomas a panic attack but he knew then that the others merely tolerated him and they'd prefer him to be gone.

Anxiety walked slowly towards his mirror and was shocked to see that he'd forgotten to clean up his eyeshadow which he'd smudged down his face. How did neither Thomas or Roman say anything? Because they don't care about him, that's why.

He turned from the mirror and climbed into his wardrobe that was leaning against the door. That way if anyone did break down the door it would tip the wardrobe and he'd be safe inside it away from their venomous words. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas walked back into his apartment, tablets in hand. It had been way easier than he'd thought and the doctor hadn't needed convincing of his anxiety like he thought he would.

He sat down on the sofa, pills in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He'd read through the side effects but there was no clue to how they'd affect Anxiety. He hesitated and called for Roman.

"I told you everything would turn out fine." he exclaimed as he noticed the pills. "what are you waiting for? Take them."

Thomas nodded but still he hesitated. "do you think I should call for Anxiety and make sure he's alright?" Thomas asked, his worry back but worse with the tablets actually in his hand.

"He'll be fine just take them and stop hesitating. It was his idea in the first place so there's no danger." Romans voice was eager and Thomas agreed that if Anxiety had suggested he take them then there was no way they'd cause him harm.

He shoved the pills in his mouth and gulped down water, letting out a sigh as he sat down to wait for them to kick in. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About half an hour later, maybe an hour, Thomas felt full of energy and he had a big smile on his face. "I feel like I can film and edit a video all day today." he said with a grin and Roman beamed as they began brainstorming.

Anxiety sat in his wardrobe and felt the first hint of pain. It was in his lungs and each breath felt like he was drowning. Eventually that stopped but the ache was there and when he coughed his hands were splattered with blood.

He swallowed and ignored the ache in his lungs and throat, he needed to pretend nothing was wrong. He wiped the blood onto his hoodie, blood didn't show up as much on black.

Suddenly he felt incredibly dizzy and as he slumped sideways he wondered how long it'd take for him to die. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan felt a weird shift happen within the mind and he put down his pen to see what Thomas was up to.

"hey Logan, we're brainstorming ideas for a video, want to help?" came the cheery voice of Thomas and Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I was actually coming to see if anything different had happened as there was an abnormal shift in your mind." Logan was straight to the point and started to scan the surrounding area.

"actually..." Thomas began but Roman interrupted.

"can you go please, we were in the middle of coming up with ideas and I need complete concentration." his voice was snobbish and arrogant which made Logan bristle slightly before taking a couple deep breaths and muttering "nevermind"

Logan went back to the mind space and started to theorise about what had changed.

"hey Logan, why are you looking so Grumpy? Anyone would think you're... Short tempered." Pattons cheery voice interrupted Logans thoughts and he groaned at the cringey Disney pun.

"Something has changed in Thomas's mind and I'm trying to deduce what." Logan didn't even open his eyes as he explained this in a slow voice as if Patton was a child.

"deduce? You mean like Sherlock Holmes? Ooo do we get to dress up again?" Patton exclaimed happily, clapping his hands.

Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "no Patton, I'm just trying to figure out what's changed." his voice was exasperated but that didn't deter Patton.

"can I help?" he asked enthusiastically.

Logan bit back an immediate negative response and decided it would keep Patton busy and he might be able to figure out what had changed then.

"fine." he muttered and covered his ears as Patton squealed happily.

Patton immediately popped up to talk to Thomas about the sort of game he and Logan were playing.

"hey kiddo, me and Logan are playing another detective game." he said cheerfully.

Thomas glanced up from where he was writing and gave Patton a grin. "you mean you asked him if you could help him figure out what's 'changed?' he's probably imagining things, I feel happy and perfectly fine so it's not a bad change whatever it is." Thomas's voice was loud and full of confidence that it made Pattons heart swell with pride.

At least until he spotted the box sitting on the table.

"Hey Thomas, whats in that box?" he asked innocently.

Thomas and Roman rolled their eyes and Thomas replied "they're painkillers for a headache I had earlier but it's completely gone now."

Thomas didn't even feel bad about the almost lie he told. It was pretty much true though, Anxiety caused him to have headaches sometimes and the medication made them stop because they prevented anxiety. Technically it was still the truth.

Patton nodded with a forced smile and quickly went to find Logan.

Logan opened his eyes at the knock on his door and rolled his eyes as Patton burst in without waiting to be told.

"I know what's changed!" he panted.

"what is it Patton?" Logan asked, expecting either a pun or a silly comment.

"Thomas is taking some strange medication. He told me it was painkillers for his headaches but that's not what it looked like." Patton was worried and Logan decided it was worth checking out.

"OK fine I'll go see what they are."he said and quietly popped up back in the living room.

Patton popped up in the kitchen and called for Thomas and Roman." let's try and get you to cook yourself something. "he said, immediately getting Romans interest as that was a goal he and Thomas had decided needed to be tackled soon.

While Patton distracted Thomas and Roman, Logan snuck towards the sofa and read the box. It meant very little so he glanced at the leaflet and felt his face go extremely pale.

He sunk back into the mind space and waited for Patton to come back.

Eventually Patton came back and Logan blurted out "he's taking anxiety medication."

Patton frowned in confusion. "what is that? What is it supposed to do?"

"it's supposed to help someone block out their anxiety and if I'm correct then Anxiety will be feeling the full effects of it." Logan was slightly worried now and Patton was getting upset.

"what do we do?" he asked, voice edged with panic.

"we need to check on Anxiety." Logan responded immediately and Patton was already up the hallway before he finished speaking.

"Anxiety? Are you alright in there?" Logan asked, dread creeping through him as he heard no hint of a response.

Patton knocked on the door and then tried to walk in but the door was locked.

"maybe we should get Roman to kick it down?" Patton asked frantically.

Logan frowned and made a quick decision. "we're going to confront Thomas about this."

And that's how they found themselves in the living room arguing over whether Thomas should have taken the medication or not.

"Anxiety suggested it himself." Thomas eventually blurted out and suddenly Patton burst into tears. The others may not have noticed how much the dark trait hated himself but Patton had always noticed. He'd even held him through a panic attack one night when he forgot to lock his door.

The words that spewed out of his mouth about himself and how everyone would be better off without him had made Patton pay special attention and care to him and if Anxiety had asked Thomas to take the pills then it meant he wanted to be hurt or killed and that thought destroyed Patton.

Roman, Thomas and Logan froze at the sight of Patton in such distress. It wasn't until he gasped out "he wants to die." that Roman suddenly put two and two together.

"this is all my fault." he muttered, staring blankly into space as he remembered how he'd convinced Thomas to take them and how he'd told Anxiety to leave Thomas alone and Anxiety had said he'd never see him again.

Suddenly he had an idea "we need to go check in Anxiety!"

Patton was crying too hard to talk but Logan said "we tried his door and it's locked."

Roman nodded in understanding and grabbed Thomas's arm. "we're going into your mind and we're going to try and see if Anxiety is alright."

Thomas shrugged and replied "cool, I guess."

The four of them suddenly appeared outside Anxietys door and Roman kicked it until it came off its hinges but he found a wardrobe and chest of drawers in the way. "he really doesn't want to be disturbed." he muttered and managed to push the wardrobe out of the way so they could get inside.

Once inside they looked around the room and couldn't find any hint of Anxiety.

"where is he?" Patton asked fearfully, clinging to Logans arm as he looked around.

Logan shrugged and glanced at Thomas who looked more interested in Anxietys room than the fact Anxiety was missing and could potentially be seriously injured.

Roman was scanning the room and his eyes locked onto a strange smear on the wardrobe. He crept closer and realised it was a trail of some kind of substance leading into the wardrobe.

"I think I found him." he whispered and the others crowded round as he opened the doors.

Patton immediately gagged and hid his face in Logans back who had paled considerably.

Roman collapsed onto his knees, guilt and horror running through his mind.

The only one who seemed unaffected was Thomas. In fact he glanced in the wardrobe, muttered "gross" and went back to looking at Anxietys stuff.

Anxiety lay slumped against the side of the wardrobe, blood trailing from his mouth to the pool he was sitting in. There was so much and it was slightly congealed so the doors of the wardrobe had been stuck slightly.

Roman eventually managed to convince himself to be brave and he picked up the unconscious trait, becoming aware of how worryingly light he was.

"put him on the bed." instructed Logan, prising Pattons hands off of his clothes.

Roman did as he was told and Logan quick began checking Anxiety over.

"his pulse is faint but it's still there." he muttered as he worked on clearing the blood from Anxietys airways.

Patton had now clung onto Roman for comfort and Thomas had even started to be more attentive to what was going on.

"why is Thomas not worried?" Roman asked, his voice full of annoyance.

"if I'm correct, and I usually am, Anxiety represents more than just anxiety. He also has control of Thomas's fear and shame. This helps prevent him from being reckless and careless in situations that could be hazardous to Thomas's health. In simple terms, Thomas isn't worried because that's what Anxiety makes him do and he's not able to do that right now." Logans voice remained neutral but the slight shake of his hands as he pushed his glasses further up his nose betrayed his nerves.

Roman nodded and looked down at Anxiety, guilt flooding him as he thought back to how many times he'd made a snide comment and how that must have affected him more than he knew.

"he's so good at hiding it." Roman said but Patton shook his head.

"no he's not, you've never really looked at him properly. It's obvious just how much he hates himself and I've held him through an anxiety attack before and the only words he could say were self depreciating. He's been suffering for so long." Patton dissolved into tears again.

Roman and Logan tensed up as they thought over all the conversations they'd had with Anxiety and started to notice the tone of voice he used that they'd ignored at the time. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anxiety could hear voices somewhere around him. He couldn't make out who they belonged to because it sounded echoey and distant but he guessed it was probably the other traits.

He strained his ears and overheard someone that might have been Patton saying something about someone suffering for so long.

Anxiety started to remember what had happened and he realised he'd been affected by the medication worse than he thought he would be but he guessed that was probably because of how heightened he was for Thomas.

He couldn't move, he was in a state of paralysis but he didn't care. The fact they'd found him meant they'd stop Thomas taking the medication and he'd have to take matters into his own hands. There was no way he could face them after this.

With this thought he drifted back into complete unconsciousness.

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[smolhobireacts]

House of Cards || Jimin

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 1551

Warnings: Break up. A lot of angst.

A/N: This is my first imagine/oneshot/thing. Inspired by the legendary song, House of Cards. At first I thought it was a sex song, ngl.. but I discovered it’s more than that. So I decided to write it based off my second interpretation which I see a lot of people agree with. Feel free to give feedback. I actually wrote this at 2am in the morning so I do apologise for mistakes, I tried my best though! Enjoy~!

Synopsis: You and Jimin were in love, until your secret and his own was revealed, and a paradise you both had built comes crashing down.

For a very long time, the two of you were in love. 3 years ago you met Jimin through your best friend whom you grew up with; Hoseok. At first you two were simply friends, but it quickly changed into relying on each other, calling one another at 3am over a silly but at the time serious issue until Jimin finally had the courage to ask you on a date. Well the date never actually happened until a few months later into your relationship with him as he was busy, he had so many interviews, performances, practice, even studying to do that he didn���t have time for the special date he had planned.

Despite only being on just a few dates, you two were in love. You both were in that early stage where you literally could not get enough of each other for a very long time, 2 years to be exact. You rarely fought, if you did it wasn’t minor, it was big. Jimin had a switch, and it wasn’t pretty when he let out his anger. But those moments wouldn’t last long, they’d pass after a good night sleep, or simply talking and explaining. 

Jimin had told you 4 months into the relationship he wants both of you to be honest, which you were. You told him when you were sad, he told you when he just didn’t want to talk because of something that happened that day. He told you when he was feeling ill despite not wanting to worry you. But with this type of honesty comes the horrible, gut wrenching truth that makes you question whether hearing the truth is better than a lie. 

When you told him you made out with Jungkook 2 and half years into your beautiful relationship, even you wanted to just block your ears and pretend you weren’t hearing it. Saying it out loud was like setting the truth in concrete, no other way out. “You’re joking right?” He said with a fake chuckle, a clearly worried expression. As soon as he saw the cheeks run down your cheeks a giant wave of emotions hit him; anger, sadness, confusion, but most of all, betrayed. He felt betrayed by the person he trusted even more than the members. 

He didn’t know what to feel. He was mad but crying at the same time, smashing a glass bottle in his room to vent frustration that didn’t relieve him even in the tiniest bit. Somehow, in just one moment, the heaven he thought he was in with you, came crashing down, into the realisation that it isn’t a paradise, it’s simply reality. A reality he wanted dead. Nothing else was said that night. You stood there silently sobbing while he just clenched his fist and start hitting the desk while a flood of tears ran across his cheeks, over his lips, falling off his chin.  The next morning is when everything was decided.

He had slept on the chair while you slept in the bed, you were surprised to say the least when he offered the bed to you after what you told him. Jimin came to the conclusion that it was ‘Just a kiss’, he convinced himself he didn’t care. You reassured him it meant nothing, so he took that as truth. He believed you, and went on. “You’re forgiving me?” He looked up at you just as he stood from his chair and nodded, with a sorrowful look on his face. “Yes. You said it meant nothing… that it only for a few seconds. I believe you.” He didn’t make any eye contact for the entire day, not with you or Jungkook. You felt scared, nervous as you watched him throughout the day, interacting with people like his usual self, not beating Jungkook to a pulp as punishment, not leaving you or giving any hint to do so in the future. He was Jimin, sweet, shy, cute, happy, bubbly optimistic Jimin. 

Over the next 2 months it was never mentioned again. Jungkook didn’t even know you had told Jimin. It was never spoken about between anyone. You both went on as if it never happened, you mended. Of course you only thought everything was okay, until he revealed his cheating secret as well. That he slept with a random girl he met, or to be exact, he did some foreplay with her then left. “I wanted to.. I wanted to go through with it. But I couldn’t.” He admitted to you. You expected him to not feel guilty, but you could tell it was destroying him. But you had no idea how to react, get angry? Cry? Walk away? Break up? Forgive him like he did you? You felt the same emotions he felt, and it made you feel even more guilty over what you did, knowing you made him feel this way. “I promise, I’ll never do anything like it again. I’ll be loyal to you, I’ll stay with you. Please.” He begged, he pleaded without you even saying anything. He knew he could lose  you over this, and tried everything in his power to keep you. But it was simple for you. You loved him. “I forgive you. We both made a mistake.. We’re even I guess.” He was shocked at how quick it was for you, but most of all at the ‘even’ part of your sentence. 

You didn’t stay the night with him, you went home and contemplated your life with him, whether there is any trust in the relationship. After concluding that you still trusted him despite the fact that he sought out revenge, and got it in the end, you went to sleep. To start another day that was normal. It never happened is how you acted. Until a week later, something boiled inside of not only you, but him. Resentment. The way you spoke to each other always had a passive aggressive undertone that neither of you acknowledged. 

You would have arguments often before bed, then you would make up before sleep, starting the same cycle over and over again. The members questioned you both, to which you both honestly answered. Jungkook felt more awkward than anyone, the others berated him, telling him off for doing something so wrong and stupid. “Don’t worry, everything is okay.” Jimin reassured not only the maknae, but all of the members. But it was as clear as a crystal that it wasn’t okay. 

The members would gather in the living room while you both argued in Jimin’s room. “They’re yelling at each other again.” Taehyung would say through a depressing tone. It hurt him to see his best friend and his girlfriend fighting. But they all refused to take sides, even Jungkook stayed out of it the most. It was a vicious cycle that wasn’t just affecting you and Jimin, it was affecting the members, the staff, even fans noticed something was wrong with Jimin, he was snappy, irritable and just not his usual self. 

You both could see it was hurting others, but every time you argued the topic of breaking up always slipped into the conversation. It never happened though, it was always solved with ‘I love you’. Until one night, you decided it was too much. 

“Jimin, what we’re doing… it’s hurting every one. You know, I was okay at first.. It hurt me, a lot, but it was okay because I loved you more than the amount it hurt. And it was just me, I chose to stay, to shoulder that pain. But they aren’t. They aren’t even in this relationship yet they are so hurt by it.” You told him as kindly as you could, sitting on the chair in the far corner of his room, just a few feet away from the door. “I know… I’ve been thinking about it too. How maybe, it would hurt us less if we just broke up now. Have those months of pain but we’d move on eventually. No one else would be hurt too.” It was the first time you both spoke without yelling, without an aggressive tone or demeanour, it was how you use to talk before everything fell apart.

“So if we both are on the same page. We should just end it.” You finally looked up from the floor, and saw the tears pooling in his eyes. Usually you’d hug him at this point, but it’ll start the cycle again. You couldn’t, even you were tearing up, praying he wouldn’t hug you but that he also would. So you stayed in your chair. “We aren’t happy.” He bluntly stated. It hurt you more than you care to admit, every time he spoke with such honesty, it tore you apart. You knew the truth, but when it’s spoken, it becomes real. 

“We’re done.” He said. And that was it. The smallest of words said in a short amount of time, broke the house you both built quickly. You picked up your jacket, put it on and left without a kiss, without a hug, without him making eye contact. You left. You’d never see him again unless it was on T.V, social media accidentally, or the times you felt lonely and stalked their twitter. You didn’t see any of them ever again. It was all over.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: A Streak of Luck (5/?)

Summary: Lady Belle of the Marchlands sets out to break the curse that has doomed all the women of her family line for centuries, seeking out the legendary sorcerer Rumpelstiltskin to aid her in her quest. Even if she finds him, will he be able to help her break her curse?

Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [AO3]

====

A Streak of Luck

Five

The Dark Castle was just as impressive on the inside as it was on the outside, if not more so. Whilst the outer façade was dark and imposing, the old stone walls giving the impression of a building that had been there since before time itself had begun, the rooms inside spoke more of that rich history, filled to the brim with keepsakes from all over the world – and possibly some from different worlds entirely.

Belle could quite happily have spent months looking at all of the things that Rumpelstiltskin had on display in the castle and learning about the origin of each and every one of them, but she knew that this was not the reason that she was here. She was here so that he could tell her if her curse could be broken, and if it could not, then she would be sent home to the Marchlands in short order.

Perhaps she could persuade him to let her stay on a little longer so that he could give her a tour of the vast place and let her into some of the secrets of the mementos that he held. There was a reverence in the way that all of them were displayed and she knew that they must hold some kind of meaning for him. This wasn’t a collection that was intended to impress visitors, because by his own admission he tried to put them off as much as possible. Indeed, in most of the stories that Belle had read concerning Rumpelstiltskin and the deals that he made, he usually went to the desperate rather than them venturing into his castle. Only a rare few actually got to see that sight, and she was one of them.

They had left the horses in the stables around the back of the castle, brushed down and resting with plenty of water and oats to keep them going until they were needed again. Rumpelstiltskin had assured her that the castle would ensure that they were taken care of no matter what he and Belle might get distracted with once his diagnosis of her curse had begun.

Truth be told, Belle had been putting off that moment, because it brought with it such finality. She wanted her curse broken, of course she did, but the fact that she was now so close to being told whether or not it was possible made her want to delay. What if he told her that the curse was unbreakable? What would she do then? She had pinned all her hopes on him, and she would have nothing left to do but go home and try to make the most of what remained of her days. It was going to be a momentous revelation, and not one that she was entirely ready for.

Still, she knew that she couldn’t put it off for much longer. Rumpelstiltskin had brought her here with the express purpose of identifying the curse and nothing more. He had shown her to a comfortable guest room where she could freshen up and spend the night, since darkness had fallen by the time they had arrived at the castle and tended to the horses, but it was clear that he wasn’t anticipating hosting her for long. Only as long as it took to diagnose her curse; then another deal would have to be struck.

She’d spent a comfortable night, far more comfortable than she had thought she would in the unfamiliar surroundings. After all, she was a young woman in a strange place in the middle of nowhere whose current sole company was a man made almost entirely of legends, most of which weren’t exactly complimentary. Breakfast had been waiting for her on a tray by the window when she had woken up, but she had been too nervous about what the day would bring to really partake of anything.

Belle sat down on the edge of the guest bed. What if the price to break her curse wasn’t something that she was prepared to give? They’d already talked about first-born children and the complications that brought since she’d likely die in childbirth if her curse was still in play. What if the price was something that she didn’t have and couldn’t give? She had spent so much time trying to psych herself up for the disappointment of hearing that her curse couldn’t be broken that she hadn’t given any thought to the alternative and what would happen next.

There was a sharp tap on the door.

“Are you ready, dearie?” Rumpelstiltskin’s high, twittering voice asked. Belle raised an eyebrow. Over the course of their day’s travel together, she had noticed that his voice tended to change depending on the subject matter. Whenever they turned to a topic that Belle realised was cutting close to home for whatever reason, the high and fluting tones would return, forcing them onto a different subject, trying to alleviate the mood and pretend that whatever it was that they were talking about wasn’t anywhere near as important to him as it actually was.

She got up and opened the door, giving him a little curtsey.

“My curse and I are at your service, Bill.”

He sighed and shook his head before spinning on his heel and stalking away, motioning for Belle to follow him. As he walked, she distinctly heard him mutter: “I should have picked a better name.”

They were moving at a fair pace through the castle, into the west wing that he had not shown her in the brief orienteering session she’d had when they had first arrived. Since she wasn’t going to be staying for very long, there wasn’t any point in her seeing the entirety of the castle within the first five minutes of her arrival here.

It looked like they were heading up towards the tall tower that she had seen from the outside of the castle. The higher they climbed, the more it felt like they were ascending into Rumpelstiltskin’s personal domain. The magic in the air was almost palpable, and she could definitely smell the faint burning of potions, the scent only getting stronger as they reached the top of the tower and Rumpelstiltskin opened the door.

His laboratory – it could really not be called anything else – was an impressive and foreboding place, reflecting the exterior of the castle much more than any of the rest of the interior did, well, from what she had seen of it. The workbench in the centre was covered in potion-making equipment and scraps of parchment, and the walls were stacked with shelves of various different colour vials, all meticulously labelled, even if the labels on the shelf nearest to her made no sense at all.

Rumpelstiltskin grabbed a small stool from underneath the work bench and scooted it across the floor until it stood alone in the middle of the room.

“Please sit.”

Belle obeyed, and for a long time, Rumpelstiltskin just walked around and around her, looking at her from every angle as if he was considering her for a prize. The tingling feeling on her scalp at the base of her white streak was back, and it was even more intense than it had been on the previous occasions that she had felt it.

Finally, Rumpelstiltskin stopped in front of her, his brow furrowed in thought as he rubbed his chin.

“I think I might have it,” he said eventually. “May I?”

He reached out towards the white streak. Belle had not braided her hair this morning and it was hanging loose beside her face.

“Be my guest.”

The moment he touched the streak, she felt it, like an electric shock shooting from his hand up her hair to her scalp, and she jerked away from him. He jumped back as well.

“Did you feel that too?” she asked. He nodded.

“It’s as I suspected,” he replied, although she didn’t know if he was talking to her or talking to himself. He gazed down at his hand where he had held her hair for a long time, then finally looked up at her.

“Whilst the nature of your curse still eludes me, I do believe that I know who created it,” he said.

“Who?”

“I have not always been the Dark One,” Rumpelstiltskin said cryptically. Belle was about to ask him what that had to do with her curse when he spoke again. “It’s a mantle that I have worn for a very long time, but I was not the first one to wear it. The Dark One is a title passed along from person to person, just as your curse passes through the generations.”

“You inherited it?” Belle asked.

“Not exactly. I took it on willingly, which is where the similarities between our two situations end. No, I was not always the Dark One, but I can recognise a curse that a Dark One created, and a curse will always recognise the magic that created it.”

“So… You cursed me? Well not you, but your predecessor?”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “No, the Dark One did not curse you. The Dark One created the curse. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t follow.”

“The Dark One created the curse. It did not cast it. Your streak is the physical manifestation of your curse and it reacted to the magic that created it. I think that the reaction would have been even stronger had that same magician cast that curse.”

“If that’s so, then who did cast it? And if your magic created it, can your magic reverse it?”

“Not so fast, dearie, one question at a time. I can’t work miracles without a little time in which to do so, you know.”

Belle gave a sigh of frustration. She was so close to her answer, and now that they’d had this breakthrough of learning where the curse had come from in the first place, she was hopeful that there could be another breakthrough very soon.  

“To answer both of your questions in one concise phrase, I don’t know.”

Belle looked up at him sharply. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean that I do not know. I am unaware. I do not have an answer. I can go on creating more synonyms if you like but I think you get the picture. Just because a previous Dark One created the curse, it doesn’t mean that I can necessarily reverse it. That would depend on the caster and their intentions when they used the curse. Certainly, we can build fail-safes into our magic but that doesn’t help when I don’t know who created it in the first place or what the exact nature is, nor who actually cast the finished product. The only thing that I know for certain is that this curse was created by a previous Dark One, and that it is not a magic that I have ever encountered in my admittedly very long life before.” He paused for breath after this long speech, during which he had been pacing up and down the room, talking to himself more than her. Finally, he turned to look at her properly again.

“May I?”

He indicated her streak and Belle nodded, gripping the stool tightly with both hands in anticipation of the shock of magic that had gone through her the last time that he had touched it. It nearly bowled her over again, but this time she was prepared for it, and the sensation quickly lessened to just the pleasant hum that it had always been in Rumpelstiltskin’s presence.

He closed his eyes, brow furrowed as he diagnosed the magic, and Belle had to wonder what would come next. She had been expecting a straight yes or no to the question of whether Rumpelstiltskin could break her curse and she had been mentally preparing for both of those scenarios. She hadn’t thought about the possibility of him not knowing at all whether or not the curse could be broken. Where did that leave their agreement now?

“It’s an extremely complex curse,” he said, letting go of her hair and pulling out another stool from the work. “Whoever cast it wanted to make sure that it could only be broken in very specific circumstances. Do you know of anyone in the past with a particular grudge against your family?”

Belle shook her head. “None that I know of. But at the same time, like I said before, a lot of that seems to have been lost to history. Maybe if we had kept more records, we would have been able to break the curse sooner. Perhaps it all came about as part of a disagreement that the people at the time wanted to keep swept under the rug, so they never shared the details with the future generations. Rather unhelpful, if you ask me.”

“And me,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered. “Still, never mind, we must just do what we can.”

He remained lost in thought for a long time, and Belle was beginning to think that he had forgotten that she was there.

“So, can you break it?” she asked tentatively.

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “I don’t know. It requires further diagnosis and research. I’ll have to consult all the records that my predecessors kept, and like your own, they’re not always the most complete or concise. How long has the curse been in effect?”

“At least five centuries.”

“Well, that helps to narrow it down.”

He fell into silence again, and Belle prodded him again.

“What does this mean for our deal?” she asked. “You said that if you couldn’t break my curse you would send me home unscathed and if you could then we would deal again. But you don’t know.”

“I need more time,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “I have a proposition for you. I will work to find out the true nature of your curse and how to break it. In return, I will need you to remain here in the Dark Castle whilst I do so. Not as a prisoner, for we both know that there’s nothing to be gained in you leaving before the curse is broken. I could use some household help though. The place really needs dusting.”

Belle laughed. “Is that all? You want me to stay here and dust in return for breaking my curse?”

“Not breaking it, dearie.” Rumpelstiltskin wagged a finger at her. “I can’t promise you that.”

Belle leaned back on her stool, looking at him shrewdly.

“As much as I want my curse broken, I can’t remain here indefinitely waiting for your verdict,” she countered. “I think a time limit might be necessary. How long will you need?”

“Four months,” Rumpelstiltskin said quickly. “You shall stay here for as long as it takes to break the curse, to a maximum of four months. If I haven’t worked it out by that time, then as before, I will return you to the Marchlands unscathed. “

“Four months.” Belle nodded. “I dust, you work on my curse.”

“And if I haven’t managed to solve it in four months, then I will hang up my hat as a practitioner of magic forever,” Rumpelstiltskin declared.

Belle raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that you need to be that drastic.”

“It’s a matter of professional pride. Very embarrassing to admit that I couldn’t establish the nature of a curse my own magic had a hand in creating.”

Belle stifled a giggle but accepted his reasoning. She put out her hand and Rumpelstiltskin shook it firmly.

The deal was struck.

[outofthewoods]

Secret Session Nashville Experience

Finally got my picture today and so - here is the full tea (well.......some of the tea) on what went down between me & my girl @taylorswift at the secret session in Nashville. 

Alright ladies….here’s the full tea on what went down for me at the Nashville secret session. I’m obviously not going to spill anything about the album lmao so if that’s what you’re here for I am :-( sorry. To preface tho: it’s literally the most iconic thing she’s ever done. The lyrics will kill you.

So I got a DM on twitter (like of all places, I do NOT try to get noticed on there lmao) from TN on Sunday afternoon and they called me Sunday night to invite me to Nashville for Wednesday, they said they thought my account was really hilarious. I was very very clear that I had gotten Loft 89 on tour and they asked me to come anyways which was SO amazing of them.

So I booked a flight and a hotel last minute (it’s my 21st birthday on the 27th, so my parents agreed to help me pay for it as a gift) and I flew in for literally less than 24 hours on Wednesday morning. I strolled around downtown Nashville and went to the bluebird cafe which was CLOSED…a hate crime…..and then made my way to the check in point after getting ready at the hotel.

I wore the reputation black hoodie (this is a KEY detail for my ~experience~) and black jeans and black shoes, I was really going for the bad bitch vibe lmao. So we check in with TN and I met some really amazing people (Ashlyn and Heather!!! shoutout!!!) and we were on the last bus to Taylor’s house. We got there a lot later than everyone else but we still had time to get guitar picks from Scott and eat some food before the session. The house was SO BEAUTIFUL and Kitty was running around being adorable, the cats were upstairs for the whole time I’m pretty sure.

So then everyone charges into the living room and because we were last into the house we were sitting towards the back of the room - so Taylor sits on a chair and everyone sits on the floor in front of her, and then there’s a row of chairs directly opposite her - so if you sit there you’re elevated and you can like…..just make eye contact with her the whole time which is what I did and I WAS SO HAPPY I DID THAT.

So she walks in and everyone freaks out obviously and ABIGAIL IS WITH HER!!!! They both looked so so beautiful, Taylor was wearing a grey tank with a studded camo shirt/pullover, black shorts and boots. Her hair was super curly and she had very dark lipstick. She comes to sit down and says hi to us all and then ~~~the secret sessions~~~~~~ so I can’t really say anything about what she said/the stories behind the songs at least until the album is out.

She literally made me feel like I was the only person in the room, and I’m sure everyone felt that way - she made eye contact with me SO many times, winked at me and was laughing at how I was dancing. She had little surprises planned for every song we’d already heard, and we got to see the unfinished version of the new video and that was so so cool. It’s amazing. She also showed us some other stuff from the shoot which was amazing - she caught my eye when I was GASPING at something and started laughing.

So we’re listening to the album it’s iconic, it’s wonderful, it’s glorious and LWYMMD comes on - she turns off pretty much all the lights and is like LET’S STRETCHHH AND DANCEEEE. I was on the other side of the room so I was like ok :/ she’s not gonna dance with me but UH….I was wrong sisters! So she starts slowly making her way across the room and she spots me and grabs me by my cheeks and pulls me towards her to dance, and because it was so DARK and there were so many pillows on the floor I LITERALLY FELL ON HER…..she picked me up and we hugged and danced and she twirled me around - and we were shouting in each others faces at the end of the second verse. She also circled back and danced with me again during the bridge.

So I’m like - REALLY NOT OKAY at this point, and we sit back down and start talking about merchandise during Gorgeous. And she literally looks at me from across the room and goes “Which you can all see…Zachary is modeling for us right now.” And I was SHOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK……she just, knew me? And knew my FULL name? Literally only my mother calls me that but Taylor’s my mom too so that’s OKAY.

So the session continues and the album was SO SO amazing, Andrea/Abigail/Scott looked so proud and happy singing all the lyrics throughout the session. After it was over the TN girls told me I was really fun to watch because of my dancing and reactions and I just thanked them profusely for inviting me, they were so amazingly nice.

Then they just start picking people at random to go meet Taylor and we were there for a pretty long time and I knew I had an early flight the next morning so I asked to go and I talked to one of the TN girls whilst I was standing on the staircase waiting to meet her. I asked why I had gotten picked when I already got loft and I was told that Taylor specifically sent them something I had posted and told them I had to be there, which was SO COOL TO HEAR.

So then, I walk into the living room and Taylor’s turning around with a glass of wine in her hand and just goes ZACHAAAAARRRRRYYYY! And I……could NOT believe it. I literally went HI MISS TAYLOR….my wig….is on mars and she laughed so hard and kept hugging me and holding my hands and doing a little happy dance. She was like it’s been so long! How are you doing?? I was like um I’m doing fine THANKS…A LOT BETTER NOW THAT I AM HERE WITH YOU……and she was like oh my god I’ve been following you….I don’t want to say stalking because that sounds creepy but you know, stalking you a lot recently. I was like ALRIGHT….OKAY….ALRIGHT….I told her she looked iconic and she was like well look at you….and like pointed at my all black outfit and wiggled her shoulders.

So then she’s like so outofthewoods, what are you doing when you’re not serenading me on Tumblr with your guitar? I DIDN’T EVEN REALISE SHE HAD SEEN THAT VIDEO…I was like…you’ve heard me sing? She was like of course! I asked her if she liked it and she got confused and was like oh I didn’t like it on Tumblr because I didn’t want to ruin the surprise of bringing you here…and I was like no did you LIKE it, did you enjoy it and she was like oh my god yes it was so cute.

She was like - so you moved to New York? How has that been? I was like ahhh so amazing, I told her about school and living in the city and then that my 21st birthday was this Friday and that I was going to Vegas, and she was like oh my god!! That’s amazing, how ritzy. Have a drink for me!!! I was like okay miss Taylor I WILL!!!!! Then I was like you know Taylor…I came out to my family, and she shook her head all surprised and was like oh my god - no way!! That’s HUGE!! I was like yeah I’m so happy and started talking about something else and she grabbed me and hugged me and held my hands was like wait….WAIT….you didn’t tell me how it went, how did it go? Did it go well? 

SO I was like it went so well my family were so accepting and I’m so much happier and your music really gave me the confidence and push that I needed to do it and she was like oh my GOD Zacharyyyy you’re FULLY living!!! and I was like YESS….YES TAYLOR I AM!!! LIVING!!!! She told me she was so proud of me and I said I was so proud of her for the new album and she was like oh my god yes!! The album, did you like it? I was like Taylor…you know I’m a Red Stan - and she interrupted me and was like oh my god I know, and looked so nervous…and I was like, it’s better than Red. She started yelling and jumping up and down and was like YES!!! YES!! I’m SO happy you said that. And gave me a double high five, and I told her my favorite songs and then we shared a joke which I am not ~~~allowed to say anything about~~~ So then we talked about our picture, I didn’t feel rushed at all - Taylor was like…keeping me there longer than I thought I would be, and she was like let’s do like a sassy-hug and I was like ALRIGHTYYYYYY THEN!!!! So we took the picture and she hugged me so much and I was like I love you I love you I’m so proud of you and she was like, no Zachary - I’m so proud of you, I love you. Then she (on my way out) grabbed me and pulled me back and planted a huge kiss on my face and then I was like AOIJdsaishbdfsudbfksdnjfhisdf and she grabbed me again because I thought I had to walk away lmao and was like wait check my lipstick first - is my lipstick smudged? Is it good? Are we good? I love you! 

I WAS LIKE YESSSSS YOU LOOK FLAWLESS and then they handed me a merchandise bag and walked me out and the camera guy asked me if he could interview me about my experience and the session and I was like idk how I’m going to say anything but like OKAY!! So we talked and then we got on the bus and went back to the check in point to get our stuff and it was just. A dream, a literal dream come true. This was so much better than Loft, I wasn’t rushed AT ALL we literally just had the most normal/natural interaction like two old friends catching up. I love her so much and I love this album so much and this night was so special to me. Taylor if you’re reading this - I love you endlessly (you know that already tho) and Taylor Nation you guys killed it and made everything so seamless and fun.

[sunshineweb]

Life is Easy. Why Do We Make It So Hard?

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Being locked down at home isn’t something new or unusual for me. I have been working from home for the past nine years. And when I say working from home, I mean consciously being locked down, with my eyes in my books or on the computer screen and my hands on the keyboard most of the time.

However, this situation is unusual for my kids. Like all kids, they are finding it uneasy not being able to meet their friends and go out and play, though they understand the responsibility of not doing so as of now.

So, one of my responsibility as a “locked-at-home-father-with-locked-at-home-kids” is to come up with ideas to keep them from getting bored. And one of those ideas has been for our kids to tell us stories that they have read or heard. It’s like they are enacting as parents and me and my wife as kids, waiting to hear good night stories before we sleep.

Here is a story my eight-year-old told us last night, which I thought had a great lesson for most of us chasing success, fame, wealth, and everything that we think makes life better.

I also thought this story makes great sense in the current times of fear and uncertainty, so thought of sharing with you.

The story is from Aesop Fables and is titled The Town Mouse & the Country Mouse. Here it goes –

A Town Mouse once visited a relative who lived in the country. For lunch the Country Mouse served wheat stalks, roots, and acorns, with a dash of cold water for drink. The Town Mouse ate very sparingly, nibbling a little of this and a little of that, and by her manner making it very plain that she ate the simple food only to be polite.

After the meal the friends had a long talk, or rather the Town Mouse talked about her life in the city while the Country Mouse listened. They then went to bed in a cozy nest in the hedgerow and slept in quiet and comfort until morning. In her sleep the Country Mouse dreamed she was a Town Mouse with all the luxuries and delights of city life that her friend had described for her. So the next day when the Town Mouse asked the Country Mouse to go home with her to the city, she gladly said yes.

When they reached the mansion in which the Town Mouse lived, they found on the table in the dining room the leavings of a very fine banquet. There were sweetmeats and jellies, pastries, delicious cheeses, indeed, the most tempting foods that a Mouse can imagine. But just as the Country Mouse was about to nibble a dainty bit of pastry, she heard a Cat mew loudly and scratch at the door. In great fear the Mice scurried to a hiding place, where they lay quite still for a long time, hardly daring to breathe. When at last they ventured back to the feast, the door opened suddenly and in came the servants to clear the table, followed by the House Dog.

The Country Mouse stopped in the Town Mouse’s den only long enough to pick up her carpet bag and umbrella.

“You may have luxuries and dainties that I have not,” she said as she hurried away, “but I prefer my plain food and simple life in the country with the peace and security that go with it.”

Moral: Poverty with security is better than plenty in the midst of fear and uncertainty.

(Source)

This story took me back to a video I had seen some years back of a TED talk given by Jon Jandai, a farmer who lived in a small village in northeastern Thailand.

Jon’s life, as he described, was easy and fun. However, people from outside the village convinced him that he was poor and that he should move to Bangkok to pursue success. So he went to Bangkok in search of a better life, but quickly felt miserable staying there, luckily returned to his village, and then wondered –

Life is easy. Why do we make it so hard?

In his talk, Jon explained why he stopped chasing other people’s dreams and instead started living life on his own terms –

And before I think that stupid people like me who never get a good grade in the school, cannot have a house. Because people who are cleverer than me, who get number one in the class every year, they get a good job, but they need to work more than 30 years to have a house. But for me who cannot finish university, how can I have a house? Hopeless for people who have low education, like me.

But, then I started to do earthly building, it’s so easy. I spend two hours per day, from 5 o’clock in the morning, to 7 o’clock in the morning, two hours per day. And in three months, I got a house.

And another friend who’s the most clever in the class, he spent three months to build his house, too. But, he had to be in debt. He had to pay for his debt for 30 years. So, compared to him, I have 29 years and 10 months of free time. So, I feel that life is so easy.

He added –

Why we need to follow fashion? Because, when we follow fashion, we never catch up with it, because we follow it. So, don’t follow it, just stay here. Use what you have.

Jon also said this –

We have so many people who finish from university, have so many universities on the Earth, have so many clever people on this Earth. But, life is harder and harder. We make it hard for whom? We work hard for whom right now?

I feel like it’s wrong, it’s not normal. So, I just want to come back to normal. To be a normal person, to be equal to animals. The birds make a nest in one or two days. The rats dig a hole in one night. But, the clever humans like us spend 30 years to have a house, and many people can’t believe that they can have a house in this life. So, that’s wrong.

The stories of Jon and of the Country Mouse who dreamed of living like the Town Mouse have great lessons for a lot of us who believe that a lot is needed to live a happy life.

The lockdown proves otherwise. I am sure, like me, you may have realised that so little is needed to survive and feel secure and happy at it. The lockdown also proves that most of us have “enough” to live with contentment, if we may choose to live that way.

However, because “fear and discontent” sell better than “security and contentment,” the former is what we get used to live with most of our adult lives.

And that shows up everywhere.

Whether it is –

fear of missing out on stocks that we did not buy earlier but are rising now and making other people richer, or

discontentment of living a “visibly” inferior life compared to our friends and neighbours, or

frustration of not getting everything we desire, or

regrets from the past that don’t allow us to move forward with confidence, or

worrying about the future so much that we can’t enjoy the present, or

fear of failures and of making mistakes that keeps us from acting, or

insecurity that keeps us in our comfort zones even when they stop being safe, or

seeking validation from others to determine our own worth.

The list of our fears, insecurities, and discontentment, most of them unwarranted, is endless. However, not all these are our own creation. As Matt Haig writes in his book Reasons to Stay Alive, the world is designed to depress us and keep us there –

Happiness isn’t very good for the economy. If we were happy with what we had, why would we need more? How do you sell an anti-ageing moisturiser? You make someone worry about ageing. How do you get people to vote for a political party? You make them worry about immigration. How do you get them to buy insurance? By making them worry about everything. How do you get them to have plastic surgery? By highlighting their physical flaws. How do you get them to watch a TV show? By making them worry about missing out. How do you get them to buy a new smartphone? By making them feel like they are being left behind.

To be calm becomes a kind of revolutionary act. To be happy with your own non-upgraded existence. To be comfortable with our messy, human selves, would not be good for business.

Consider investing for once. Most people invest using benchmarks set by others than what would help them sleep peacefully at night. Reasonable return expectations are looked down upon in the chase for alpha. Surprisingly, this in a game where alpha is a pipe dream for most people, including the smartest.

More people trade in stocks for emotional than sensible reasons. Portfolios are designed to look good. We are sold stock and mutual fund ideas as if our lives depended on them. And that if we don’t buy those products, we are told, we would end up in poverty and despair, even as our friends and all those friends we know on Twitter and Facebook would get rich.

People are led to make financial plans for 20-30 years ahead, while not many are taught to deal in the present with the behavioural aspects of taking care of their money, like simplicity, frugality, and patience.

Financial freedom remains a subject tied only to money and not to the peace that no amount of money or wealth would get us, but which is a subject matter of the understanding within, of course, along with enough money.

The fact is that the more we think that a lot of money is what we need to live happily, and the more we associate money with most things in life, the more we convince ourselves that we are too poor to buy our freedom.

But this is what the world is increasingly designed to do to us – always create that fear, urge, and urgency to go for more, even when we have more than enough.

However, like Haig adds to the above note –

Yet we have no other world to live in. And actually, when we really look closely, the world of stuff and advertising is not really life. Life is the other stuff. Life is what is left when you take all that crap away, or at least ignore it for a while.

Practice this in investing too, and you will be at great peace always. Take all that crap away – unwanted noise, advice, and financial products – and stick with what is the bare minimum, including the idea of having enough money and that’s it.

You won’t then have to wait for your financial freedom in the future, for the worry about having a lot of money will disappear right away, and you will start feeling grateful for what you have right now – adequate food, safe shelter, and the company of your loved ones.

That world won’t depress you, believe me.

I would like to end the post with a story I shared with my kids recently. It is about a monk and a minister.

Two close boyhood friends grow up and go their separate ways. One becomes a humble monk, the other a rich and powerful minister to the king. Years later they meet up again.

As they catch up, the minister (in his fine robes) takes pity on the thin, shabby monk. Seeking to help, he says: “You know, if you could learn to cater to the king you wouldn’t have to live on rice and beans.”

To which the monk replies: “If you could learn to live on rice and beans you wouldn’t have to cater to the king!”

Stay safe, stay sane, and be grateful for this life.

And as Jon said, life is easy…let’s not make it hard.

The post Life is Easy. Why Do We Make It So Hard? appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

Life is Easy. Why Do We Make It So Hard? published first on https://mbploans.tumblr.com/

[kitto-toberu-sa]

Digimon Stage Play - Part One

Sorry, my friend introduced me to Tiger and Bunny, which is why this was delayed ;;; This is everything up until curtain for half time, rest will be up within the next 12 hours, sorry!!! Aight, so tl;dr: great show, actors are perfect, Yamato is beautiful beyond belief, Mimi is UGHHHHHH in the good way and I’m bitter that the whole show isn’t sold out and whoever was in charge of promotion should be forced to eat nothing but the hottest of hot chillies for the rest of their life.

Venue/Goods: a little out of the way, small. You couldn’t buy goods unless you had a ticket, which sucks. Goods were sold on the inside, line was small pre-play, massive after. My store clerk couldn’t count to save her life. People were trading, everybody hated that everything was random and there were so many types of things. Friend and I ordered dvd – no blu ray option, it’s being released in December. Had to downpay 2000 yen, which this and dvd only option has never happened before when I’ve seen other stage shows – not a good sign. No postal option, so my friend has to pick mine up for me – poor form again. (Pick up is only at animate – my nearest one is 2+ hours away :/)

Promotion/sold out: four shows sold out. Tickets reduced to 7000 yen, which is insulting for us who went through lottery. They advertised low prices at fes too. Promotion was done badly. Digimon isn’t massively popular, but Toei isn’t small either. Get a cast twitter, post rehearsal pics etc. Promotion doesn’t need to be costly. Fes advertisement (last weeks vid) was too little too late. Theres events with Miyazaki and AiM and seiyuus, which also seems last minute and an attempt to sell out. Again insulting to those of us to preordered. Shonichi didn’t sell out. Must be tough on actors. Promotion video (August 5th? 6th?) is kinda bad quality – the stage itself looks and sounds better than the video may lead you to believe.

Seating: nice, comfy. We were second row, left hand side, aisle. If we had been one or two more to the left it would have been really bad (same if you’re too overly right). The cast faces back/sideways too often, so we saw a lot of backs. Need to work on being diagonal, basic stage stuff there. However, pros of our seating were: Yamato being right in front of us when he sang, Jyou fishing in front of us and making eye contact with Etemon to the point where it was creepy lmao

Play Y’all. Y’ALL. THIS IS THE GOOD SHIT. A+ A+ A+ A+!!!!!! Agumon is twitchy in the start, scene is a little long. He’s basically like ‘my body can’t move/is moving on it’s own???? Wat? Why???’ (both happen, not a bad translation on my part). He wakes up and Gabumon’s like ‘yeah me too’ and some of the other Digimon agree but Palmon’s like ‘yeah same but it’s because I’m not a morning person lmao’.

They all go to where the kids are. So this is set sometime after Koushirou makes the cyber space for them. Mimi and Koushirou talk about camping and Mimi ends up throwing his laptop on the FLOOR. Koushirou looks heartbroken and the entire audience was ?!?!? but sasuga Mimi and Koushirou’s like … well, moving on. Mimi is perfect beyond belief. Right voice, face, mannerisms. I know that’s what acting is, but she NAILED IT. She’s all like ‘camping is about feeling the breeze~’ then acts like she has wind her face, ‘about being hot’ (ahhhh, it’s hoooooot, she says), about monsters! (she says as she stalks towards the Digimon). We then get the scene where Sora talks about the importance of August 1st. While she speaks, on the left and right sides we see actual scenes from the original anime, which is really touching. Sora mentions that although there were good times, there were bad ones too (CUE GIF OF LEOMON DYING BECAUSE THEY HAD TO HAVE IT SOMEWHERE) All the mons wanna go camping which obviously, is cool.

Hikari invites Taichi and they talk. Jyou calls Hikari but Taichi answers and Jyou doesn’t realise. ‘Damn that Taichi, he isn’t coming? Leave it to me!’ Eventually Taichi is like ‘it me moron’ and Jyou convinces him to come after Taichi’s like ‘I BET UR NOT COMING’ because Jyou, as always, has exams. Jyou is a smart ass? He’s like ‘Taichi, next year, you’ll be in my position. And if it’s you… well… you’ll be in trouble.’ SUCH A GOOD SCENE JYOU IS MVP IN THIS PLAY Y’ALL. He gets his creep on here and it’s so funny.

Next is Knife of Day. Yamato sung and you could tell he was nervous but he did really well. Yamato talks technical stuff (music wise) and then he high fives and fist bumps one of the band mates?? CUTIE PATOOTIE ALERT!!!! Honestly, he’s so pure and beautiful? One of the band mates tried to go ‘Knife of Day is… well, the name isn’t…’ ‘HAVE CONFIDENCE IT’S ALL GOOD FRIEND!!!!’ ‘Yamato that’s not what-‘ ‘WITH THESE MEMBERS WE’RE KNIFE OF DAY! WE’RE GOOD!!!’ ‘but the name-‘ ‘THESE FOUR MEMBERS. KNIFE OF DAY. HAVE CONFIDENCE!!!!’ Takeru comes along and talks about camp. Yamato is very cute toward Takeru who is worried a little about him. Very sweet scenes. Yamato explains both the band and August 1st are important to him. Later, Takeru buys Yamato a pink sleeping bag because he’s a shit head lmao

Everyone’s at camp, Mimi forgets everything. She’s adorable. People set up camp, which is cute. Yamato runs the kitchen and Hikari is chased by Agumon because she has meat. Etemon is the camp ground guardian? (What do you call these guys??) He takes their money (OF COURSE) and keeps going ‘there are MONKEYS around here!’ and everyone’s like k cool story. Eventually he’s like YOU WANNA SEE A MONKEY?!? But everyone’s like nah bro we good, so he runs off dejected.

The kids talk about the future. Mimi just wants to be a kid forever, but Palmon says she wants to be an adult lol. Koushirou isn’t sure what he wants to do, but says he likes computers. Jyou really talks about why he wants to be a doctor and it’s such a good speech! Yamato and Taichi are both like ‘well, I like my hobby I guess??’ Sora deflects the question, Hikari doesn’t know.

Yamato and Taichi try to converse later (it’s just the two of them because Koushirou said something to ruin the mood so Takeru dragged him away even though he was like ‘I’ll stay awake as long as you’re up bro’). It’s mostly Hey Yamato Yeah? …. … . … Yeah?! …Nothing -silence- We have a lot to talk about, huh Yamato? -plays harmonica-

dumb morons lmao

Mimi: Sora, you awake? …SORA Hikari: aye what up Mimi: GHOST STORY TIME Hikari: starts telling an old experience Mimi: NO TOO SPOOKY STOP STOP LET’S TALK ABOUT LOVE!!!!!

She tries to get info out of Hikari who tries to get info out of her back. They both start going ‘what about Sora’ who stays asleep but Mimi is about to ‘reveal’ who Sora likes when she shoots up and is all like I DON’T LIKE ANYONE!!! They’re all lying down in sleeping bags, so Hikari and Mimi were jumping around in their sleeping bags and Mimi does the CUTEST wiggle!!!

They talk about their dreams and Mimi is like ‘I like lotsa stuff??’ but she thinks it’s stupid and is kinda embarrassed but they’re like?? No? it’s cool to have multiple interests and dreams? WHICH IS A VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE

Jyou leaves early for his exam the next morning. Shit goes down and people split up to solve the problem. Etemon ends up revealing himself to Taichi and co. He’s super strong and is basically like “it’s been six years your time BUT I’VE BEEN SUPER SUPER LONELY FOR 100 YEARS I JUST WANNA CHILL”

There’s a gate so everyone (bar Jyou) is stuck at camp. Etemon forces Tai, Hikari, Sora and Mimi to bbq with him. AND THE ETEMON FIVE. YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT – ETEMON HAS FOUR COLOURED MONKEY BOY BAND FRIENDS. THEY SING AND EAT AND PLAY TOGETHER. THEY’RE THE ETEMON FIVE, COMING TO A TOWN NEAR YOU!!!

Anyway, there’s a fight and Etemon wins and gets the above group together and the bbq happens. Etemon is super happy to see Hikari (“oniichan!” “eh? You’re the only dude… YOUR SISTER?! HOW ADORABLE!!!”) and she’s like ‘stop fighting’ and he’s like ‘girl? That’s all I want???’ but later they eat all the food and Etemon whips out yakisoba and offers some to Hikari.

“No. I don’t want it?” –awkward silence- Etemon 1: Eh? Why? Etemon 2: -idk- Etemon 3: Don’t push her! Etemon 4: Is it… you’re dieting? If that’s it… I totally understand…

Hikari is done with their shit. She wants to go home. Mimi wants a bath. Sora’s done with this bullshit. They realise time has gone whack. Tai and Sora have a tiff, Mimi makes Sora back down when she tries to comfort him so Hikari can do it instead. Time is whack so they’ve been there forever, Etemon is like I SAID I WAS LONELY YOU CAN’T LEAVE EVER!!! He then tries to make Taichi be his bestie.

By forcing him into a kiss.

Curtain close.

(Honestly it was the funniest thing – it was a non-sexual kiss, but y’all, consent is consent. I mean, you probably shouldn’t take dating advice from a man in a monkey suit who low key resembles Piko Taro, but like. This is a weird site, Idk where some of you learnt to romance. I feel I need to say that.)

[blustersquall]

Only Make Believe // Chapter 12: The Weight of Words

Please be advised that tumblr no longer allows posts with links to outgoing sites to appear in tags. So, to try and get around this, you can read this fic on AO3 by clicking on the source link at the bottom of the post. Alternatively, you can find the master post on my blog, with links to all chapters on tumblr, AO3, and ffnet. [Though, ffnet is having some technical difficulties right now, and won’t let me upload the chapter, so it might be a day or so before it’s up on ffnet]

December 21st

--

Cullen reclined on to couch, mug of coffee in hand. His laptop was open in front of him on the coffee table, the light of the webcam shining a steady green. Though there was no one on the opposite camera visible, Cullen could hear two lowered voices off screen.

"It's your publisher," one said, female with a distinctive accent.

"Tell her I'm not here," the second voice, male and impatient. "Better yet, tell her I died."

"Varric!" the female voice growled. "You can't avoid her forever."

"Yes, I can," Varric retorted. Cullen smirked to himself hearing the exchange. "Just... tell her I'll call her back. Please, Cassandra?"

Cassandra sighed heavily off screen. "Fine," she snapped. "But next time, I'm just going to hand you the phone and not tell you who it is."

"Sounds great." Varric was sometimes frustratingly cheerful and glib. Given how short Cassandra's temper could be, Cullen wondered just how their relationship worked so well and how the two of them didn't drive each other crazy. As it was, they'd been together almost eighteen months and showed no signs of boring each other or of any cracks in their relationship. Cullen was glad of it. They worked well, and they cared about each other. Though they would both declare the contrary if confronted with it.

Varric's face appeared on screen and he sat back in his seat. "Sorry about that Curly."

"Avoiding your responsibilities again, Varric?" Cullen smirked.

"For as long as I can," Varric replied with a wry smile.

He was older than Cullen  but by how much Cullen wasn't certain, he had never asked - but age had not dulled the sharpness of Varric's mind or tongue. A was a writer by trade, on the best sellers list, and one of the few friends Cullen was still in contact with from Kirkwall, while he was stationed there Varric was almost always around during the week. He had been on friendly terms with a large number of Cullen's squad and for the first few years, Cullen's reception to Varric was icy, cool at best. Somehow, through events that involved drinking and Cullen had tried to blank from his memory, Varric became Cullen's closest friend for a long time.

It was through Varric he met Cassandra. The two of them were instrumental in the relief effort for Kirkwall following the explosion, and they both helped Cullen get back on his feet after his discharge and the events that followed. He was indebted to them. He considered them as close as his own family, despite the distance.

"You really need to get an assistant," remarked Cullen. "Or at least pay Cassandra to avoid your publisher for you."

"I pay her with love and sneak previews," Varric said, his grin increasing. "What more does she want?"

Rolling his eyes, Cullen laughed into his mug. He took a swallow of coffee, placed the mug on the table and leaned forward. "You're terrible."

"I know, I know," sighed Varric. "A burden I must bear." He looked momentarily remorseful, before a wicked smile lit up his face. "Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about this girl."

"There's nothing to tell," Cullen shrugged. "She's a client. A friend."

"Oh, come on Curly." Varric shook his head. "You're calling in a favour to get her a copy of her favourite book. She's got to be more than a client or a friend."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why does she need to be more than a client or a friend? Can't I just do something nice for someone who I think deserves it?" asked Cullen, his voice becoming a little sharper and his defences rising. He was only just beginning to figure out how to put some distance between himself and Nevena so his tumultuous feelings towards her could calm down. He did not need Varric riling him or those feelings up by baiting him.

"I'm not judging, Curly," Varric lifted his hands in defence. "Sorry if I touched a nerve."

Cullen breathed through his nose, trying to relax. "It's fine."

"Is she there?"

"If she was, do you think we'd be having the conversation?"

"I guess not." Varric nodded. "Well, the book is on its way to you as we speak. I sent it off today, airmail. Should be delivered right to the cabin door tomorrow afternoon, sometime."

"Thank you, Varric," Cullen half smiled. "She'll really love it. I owe you."

Varric waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, we're square." He paused for a moment. Cullen watched him purse his lips and fiddle with a gold earring hanging off his right ear. "Not going to tell me anything about her, huh? This girl whose favourite book is the first one I wrote?"

"Why so curious?"

"Not a lot of my readers even remember 'The Viper's Nest'. It's kind of nostalgic to know someone out there still likes it," explained Varric with a slow, lingering smile. "She like the other ones?"

"Actually... I don't think so." Cullen frowned, thinking back to that early morning conversation where he found her reading at the kitchen table. "She didn't say she disliked them, I just think she liked 'The Viper's Nest' more."

"Oh," Varric's brow furrowed. "Did she say why?"

Cullen shrugged, "No."

"Maybe I should ask her."

"I haven't told her I know you. I didn't want her to get over excited, or something like that. I know how much you value your privacy."

"Oh please," scoffed Varric. "I'm an open book - no pun intended. And it would be nice to hear the opinion of a genuine fan of my early work."

"You hate being critiqued."

"I hate being critiqued by critics," Varric said. "If an actual fan were to give me their feedback in a decent way, not in one-hundred-and-forty-characters of abuse on twitter, then I'd be more than happy to listen." He snorted. "I might even take on some of what she says."

Cullen laughed, "Maybe when the oceans freeze over."

Varric moved on screen, turning his attention to another monitor Cullen knew he used to keep up pages of notes and research when he was writing. There was the sound of fingers on the keyboard and few mouse clicks.

"What's her name again?"

Lifting a brow, Cullen leaned back. "Why?"

"I want to check I spelled it right inside the book." Varric shot him a look. "Why do you think?"

"Sure, Varric." Cullen gave an exasperated bark of laughter but spelled out Nevena's name for him regardless. Varric went quiet for a minute or two. In that time, Cullen checked his emails and started to type a reply to his sister, who was berating him about not being available to come to her house for Christmas. The past few years, he had spent the day with his siblings and their families. Since their parents died, the four of them were closer than they ever were as children. Cullen felt a pang of guilt for the fact he would not be there. He had already apologized, but another would not go amiss, and he promised Mia he would come stay for a weekend in January to make it up to her.

"She's cute," Varric remarked. His comment caused Cullen to look up from his email. "Pretty."

Cullen squinted at the webcam and therefore, Varric, "You've googled her, haven't you? Are you stalking her on Facebook or something?"

"No, nothing like that." Again, Varric waved a dismissive hand. "Just wanted to know what she looked like. I didn't realise she was one of those Trevelyan's."

"Neither did I," Cullen groaned. He ran a hand across his face, rolling his thumb and forefinger along his brow. "I'd never heard of them until she told me."

"They're not exactly celebrities," Varric explained. A few clicks of a mouse and his attention returned fully to Cullen. "I met Nevan and Katrin at a charity event about a year ago. Weird people. Very, uh..." Cullen waited; it was rare for Varric to be at a loss for words. "Very intense."

"That's one way to put it," Cullen laughed heartily and ran his hands back through his hair. "Honestly, Varric these people... Her family are..." He leaned his head back, shaking it while staring at the ceiling. "It's astounding that she's related to them. She's nothing like them. And given some of things she endured... I'm amazed she's as kind as she is."

"Oh?"

"Right now, she's out in Edgehall with her older sister," Cullen sat up. "An older sister who has tormented her for years and who, in no uncertain terms, despises her. And she's with her because she wants to do right by her niece who, according to Nevena, 'is feeling unloved'."

"Sounds like she's a nice person."

"She's is. She's more than nice." After rubbing his chin and stubble, Cullen grabbed his coffee and drained the last few mouthfuls. "These people, Varric. You should meet them. I would love for you and Cassandra to meet them and see how horrific they are."

"All of them?" asked Varric.

"No, not all of them... The kids seem great, and one or two of the husbands are nice. I'm still on the bench about one sister. But the parents - fuck, the parents." With a sigh, Cullen placed his mug on the table. He was on a roll, letting go of all the comments he was keeping tightly contained. "Her mother is something out of a horror story, I swear. She threatened Nevana with a pole to straighten her posture at dinner, like she's five-year-old! Who does that to their adult daughter?"

"Someone with expectations," Varric snorted. "My parents had the same of me." That had a poor relationship with his parents was common knowledge to most of his close friends. It was a topic Varric often used to make off-handed comments or to deflect. Through their long friendship, Cullen had never heard Varric discuss his parents seriously. Perhaps he did in private, with Cassandra, but  for the most part Varric's past was something he kept very close to his chest.

"The two older sisters, as they were digging their claws in, no one told them to back off. In fact, it was like everyone else was pretending it wasn't happening."

"You didn't though, right?" asked Varric. "You jumped in Mister knight-in-shining armour?"

"Sadly not... I was just in shock. I didn’t know what to say, and when I thought of something I decided against it, in case it made matters worse." Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly, she's a great girl. Given everything she's dealt with and things I suspect she's experienced... That she is a warm hearted and kind person is a testament to how strong and resilient she actually is." He sighed, flopping back onto the sofa. "She just doesn't believe it herself. She actually thinks she's a terrible person."

"Uh huh..." Varric's tone drawled out and there was a distinct smugness to his voice. Cullen arched a brow at the laptop screen. "Tell me again how she's just a friend and a client? Certainly sounds like that's the extent of your relationship and your feelings towards her."

"Shut it," retorted Cullen, rolling his eyes. "We're friends. Adding anything else to this... It would make things more complicated.”

"’More complicated’? Meaning... you've thought about acting on you--"

"Varric."

"Sorry, Curly," Varric smirked. "Just want to look out for you. You know if things get too shitty there you can take the tunnel under the Waking Sea, or a ferry, and come to Kirkwall for Christmas and New Year. You never did reply to the invite me and Cass sent out."

"I know," groaned Cullen sitting up. His back twinged, a small reminder of his tumble on the ice a few days previous. "I'm sorry. I was in a rush when I was arranging all of this." Cullen suddenly felt tired and weary. Everything was getting confused again.

Who was he kidding? Everything was always confused. His talk with Nevena the night before was just to protect himself, and her. He didn't want to get involved beyond their arrangement, he didn't know what doing that would mean, or what it might entail. He didn't want to get hurt. He didn't want to hurt her. He cared for her. He told himself putting a figurative wall up between them, setting barriers and boundaries was for the best. It would prevent things from going any further. It didn't matter. The night before all he could think about as he tried to fall asleep was the kiss in the kitchen and knowing that she slept in another room, with only a door between them. He wondered if Nevena had thought about the kiss as she tried to fall asleep, too. If she’d struggled to sleep as much as he had.

Cullen wasn't sure what was happening. He'd never experienced a sudden loss of sense when it came to love before. With women in the past, it was always gradual before his feelings began to stir. Dates upon dates, phone calls, and text conversations of getting to know one another. Cullen prided himself on rarely, if ever, giving into base instinct and desire. Falling hard and fast for someone was unknown and uncharted territory, and it didn't help that he wasn't sure if it was real or not.

"Varric," he groaned pushing his face into his hands. "Do you think I'm in over my head?"

"Possibly," Varric said. "But you should ride it out. You might be surprised with the outcome."

"Nice and vague," laughed Cullen. "Thanks."

"That's what I'm here for. Now," Varric clapped his hands together, "aside from my book, which is an amazing gift admittedly, what else have you bought your friend-client?"

"Nothing?" Cullen shrugged his shoulders, meeting Varric's eyes through the webcam. "I thought the book would be enough."

"No, Curly. No," Varric shook his head like a concerned uncle. "The book is a great gift, don't get me wrong. And I'm not just saying that as the author, but you can't give her something that personal in front of her family."

"Why not?"

"You just can't, okay. Don't fight me on this, trust me. I know what I’m taking about."

"Okay, okay." Cullen relented. "So, what, get her something else?"

"Not a thing. A few things." Varric hummed thoughtfully. "You don't want anything that's going to overshadow the book, but get her a few things that will go over well. Hollow gifts, y'know? Sweets she likes. Something for her apartment. If you're feeling daring and want to give the impression to her family everything is great between you, lingerie."

"I am not buying her underwear," Cullen growled, hoping the camera did not pick up the way his cheeks flared. "I don't even know what size she'd be."

Varric chuckled, rubbing his hands together in a gleeful way that put Cullen on edge. "Just, take my advice, get her some small things that are pretty basic. Nice smelling soap or something. Or just joke gifts."

"I'll do that." Cullen reached towards the lid of his laptop. "I'll go now."

"Great idea." Varric leaned back in his chair. "I should probably call my publisher back anyway..."

"Thanks for sending the book, Varric. I'll let you know how it goes over."

"You better." Varric shot him a look. "And, seriously Cullen." The tone of his voice gave Cullen pause as he was closing the laptop. "If you need to get out of there, my place is always open. The invite for New Year stands. And that extends to your friend-client-not-girlfriend."

Touched, Cullen smiled, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"Good." Varric waved briefly. "Let me know how the book goes down. Talk later, Curly."

"Bye, Varric."

Cullen shut his laptop and got to his feet. He quickly smoothed his hands through his hair and over his shirt, easing away wrinkles in the clothing. After a quick glance around, he found his set of keys to the cabin, his phone, wallet, and car keys. He piled them up on the table in the kitchen paused, staring hard at the door to the bedroom.

It wouldn't be considered snooping if he was looking for ideas for small gifts, would it? And really, as long as he didn't move anything, Nevena would never know he'd been in the bedroom. He chewed his lip and the inside of his cheek for several moments before breathing in deeply and striding towards the room. A brief look, to get a few ideas, he wouldn't touch anything.

As he turned the door handle he half expected Nevena to walk in the front door and catch him. Even though his intentions were innocent, his stomach was near his feet as he inched the door open and peered inside. He had only seen the bedroom once, when he and Nevena first arrived. It was the largest room in the cabin, aside from the main living area. The focus was the large double bed in the middle. Made of wood, it looked like some kind of sleigh from the way it was carved. The bedding was a soft duck-egg blue, complimented by walls of a similar colour. There were pictures of landscapes hung on the wall and a large double window that opened out onto the road and pathway leading up to the cabin itself.

Though Cullen did not know what to expect, he was surprised to find the room as tidy as it was. For some reason, he expected Nevena to keep things in an organised chaos - this was... neat. The bed was made, and the covers pulled back to let them air. Sitting in the middle of the bed were two cuddly toys, a dinosaur of some description and a bright cobalt blue manta ray. Cullen smirked looking at them, finding it endearing Nevena brought them all the way from home. Her pyjamas were folded on the mattress, glasses on a night stand, sitting beside her tablet.

Pyjamas would be too personal, and he was already getting a book shipped in, so another book was out of the question. He went to the dressing table where various items were laid out. A make-up bag, several different hair brushes. He wasn't getting many clues and went to the bathroom to get an idea what she liked to use on her skin.

The en suite bathroom was really a large shower room, all tiled walls with smart, warm stones, a silver shower head the size of a dinner plate was suspended from the ceiling. The floor sloped slightly in one corner so the water all ran down to the plug hole, there was a screen between the shower and the sink, but that was it. In the shower cubicle, Cullen examined the shower gel on the floor. Bright yellow, spicy smelling with an underlying sweetness. Not an offensive smell at all, and one Cullen had grown accustomed to, being around Nevena and was sure he would recognise if he needed to. He glanced at the label to see if it was named.

“Loveswept Sunset…” he read and laughed to himself. “Are you kidding me? Sounds like something Varric would name one of his books. Who comes up with this stuff…”

It wasn't much, but it was something to keep in mind. He left the bedroom, closing the door securely behind him. After picking up his bits from the table and taking his jacket off the coat hooks by the door, Cullen went quickly to his car and began the journey to Edgehall. He hoped he might luck out and some random items might jump out at him. He'd never been particularly imaginative when it came to gift giving, but whatever he bought now, he knew the book would make up for it.

[Quick note for those of a sensitive nature, there are some mentions of panic/anxiety attacks, some hints at physical sibling abuse, and minor mentions of injury, so please be warned. It’s not graphic, but be warned].

Nevena patted her satchel as she set it down on the ground beside her. Inside was Cullen's gift and while it was sturdy and heavy, she didn't want it to get scuffed or damaged in any way, so she was being particularly careful with it. Ineria sat opposite her, stirring sugars into her coffee while tutting at her phone, mumbling about one thing or another.

They'd been in Edgehall together for almost four hours, and despite the rift in their relationship and the confrontation only two nights before, things were cordial between them. Cordial but cool. It was about as good as their relationship ever got. Nevena had learned never to expect an apology from Ineria as children and now was no different. There was not even a whisper of an apology or admittance of guilt for her behaviour that evening. Nevena knew Ineria well enough to know she'd likely brush it under the carpet for now, and bring it up again when it suited her.

Edgehall was busy as the Christmas day approached and shopping days diminished. The market was still going strong but Ineria's needs took them into the small shopping centre situated in the middle of the town. Made up of two floors, most of the shops were a part of large chains. There were gaudy Christmas lights hanging over head, with tinsel, and sparkling glass snowflakes while over the Tannoy system Christmas songs were played on repeat. Nevena was sure she heard the same one play five times in an hour and would be glad when they left.

Despite her going into Edgehall the day before and buying more than enough food, Ineria was still grabbing things left and right. Every shop they walked past, Ineria peered in the window, hummed, went in, spoke to the frazzled sales assistants and if they could not accommodate her, she demanded to speak to a manager while Nevena cringed in the background, often mouthing ‘sorry’ to the employee durrently under duress. She wasn't sure how Ineria did it. It was like she was not in possession of shame. She lacked the empathy and patience required for the Christmas season and the stress those people working were under. If she was not able to obtain what she wanted, it was someone else's fault and she threatened to complain. Every shop they left, Ineria came out with a voucher or promise of good will.

Nevena was beginning to wonder how many of these people knew Ineria by reputation. A small community like Edgehall, and a problem customer like Ineria, news was bound to travel. Nevena kept her mouth shut, even if she wanted to step in on multiple occasions. She wanted to keep Ineria calm and receptive for when she approached the subject of Matilda, and getting in the way while she was laying into some poor temporary member of Christmas staff was not the way to do it.

When they stopped at one of the various chain coffee shops, Nevena was glad for the rest. She stretched her legs out and turned her glass of water around in her hands while waiting for Ineria to get whatever she was ordering. The night before Nevena had made a few bullet points, topics she wanted to mention to Ineria about Matilda and quickly went over them. Even as Ineria sat down, Nevena checked over her talking points on her phone, trying to memorize them so she could be more confident.

"Successful trip," Ineria remarked. She never looked directly at Nevena for too long, preferring to glance around and watch passersby. "We'll have these and go back to Haven. You can help me start prepping for Christmas Eve."

Nevena bit her tongue to stop from commenting. Never a request, always an order. "Sure," she said, clenching her jaw. She took a sip of water. "Ineria, I need to talk to you about something."

"If it's about the other night, don't worry about it," Ineria said, breezily, smiling. "I accept your apology without you having to make it. You always do like to make a scene."

"Uh..." Nevena squeezed her hands around her glass. "That wasn't..." A pause. It wasn't worth getting into. "It's about Matilda," she said slowly. "I want to talk about Matilda."

That got Ineria's attention. Her sharp gaze snapped to Nevena and she placed her coffee cup down in the saucer in such a deliberately slow way, Nevena was sure it was done in an attempt to frighten her somehow. Ineria dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin. "What about Matilda?" Her voice was tight and her tone sharp. Nevena's stomach grew heavy. She knew she was stepping on sensitive ground.

"Yesterday while we were baking, we were chatting about school." Nevena began, keeping her tone calm and as non-confrontational as possible. "She's said some things that are… well, they’re a bit troubling."

"What things?" Ineria asked primly. "If it's about the school play, I already know."

"You do?"

"Yes." Ineria sighed with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "I went to the principle about it and got her the bigger part she deserved. My daughter is too good for chorus, just like I was. The girl who had the part initially began to cause Matilda trouble, and I went and dealt with it. It's fine now."

Nevena laughed nervously, remarking, "I don't think it is." Ineria's eyes narrowed as she continued, "Did you take into consideration that Matilda was happy with her chorus part? Or that she actually wanted to be involved backstage and only auditioned for a part because you showed an iota of interest in her because it was something you wanted?"

"Nonsense. She's immensely talented an-"

"Of course she is talented," Nevena said, cutting Ineria off. She saw her sister's nostrils flare in anger. "But she's talented in a different way than you. Matilda is not an actress. She doesn't relish being on the stage, like you did."

"Don't be stupid. She was wonderful."

"I don't doubt that she was." Nevena held her jaw tight. "But Matilda doesn't like being on stage or the centre of attention. Do you realise how clever she is? She's practically a math genius. She can do complicated equations in her head. She's been invited to do an advanced math class next semester. And she's twelve."

"So?"

Nevena blinked hard, several times. "So... why don't you embrace and support what she's clearly likes and has a passion for? She feels like you don't appreciate or like the things she enjoys and is passionate about."

"That's silly." Folding her arms, Ineria straightened her back. It was a gesture Nevena knew well. It was how Ineria signalled she was setting down for a long haul. This would not end well, but Nevena was already in too deep to back out of the conversation now. "I appreciate the things she's good at."

"Really?" Nevena snorted and copied Ineria's stance. "Did you know she got an award for math excellence at school? Or that the Mathlete team she's a part of came first in their age range?"

"I knew."

"And did you say anything?"

Ineria fidgeted in her seat. "No, but--"

"No," Nevena snapped. She realised then, noticing a flare in Ineria’s eye, that she was allowing her concern for Matilda and her annoyance at Ineria get the better of her. She took a long breath and felt her shoulders relax. "Because it's not something that interests you." She watched as Ineria smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of her shirt. "She actually asked me something really heartbreaking yesterday."

"Oh?" Ineria rolled her eyes again. "And what was that?"

"She asked if I ever felt like our parents never wanted me. Or didn't like me." Nevena leaned forward. "She was referring to you. She doesn't think you like her, or even wanted her. And she's twelve-years-old, Ineria. Twelve! She's a child, and children shouldn't be thinking or wondering those kinds of things about their parents."

There was a shift in Ineria's expression, a softness - almost like remorse - that appeared and then disappeared in moments. Nevena saw her sister's face harden again. She set her jaw, her arms tightened a little across her chest and she lowered her shoulders. Though she would not look outwardly angry to anyone else, Nevena could see the rage building behind Ineria's eyes. She was outraged, insulted.

"I know you love her, Ineria," Nevena said, trying to subdue her. "I know you love all of your children but--"

"No," Ineria hissed. "You've said your piece."

"Ineria. I'm trying t-"

"How dare you lecture me about my own child!" Ineria glowered, her eyes blazing with barely controlled anger. "You have no idea how hard I work. How much I do. I don't know everything about my daughter, but I love her immensely. You come here for a few days and think you can lecture me! You don't have children, Nevena. What makes you think you're qualified to tell me, a parent, how I am doing?"

"I work with kids on a daily basis, Ineria," Nevena replied in a steady voice. "I see kids every single day whose parents don't appreciate or even acknowledge their achievements, and instead brush them aside because their achievements do not mesh with their parents'. It's what you're doing with Matilda now, and if you're not careful, the damage to your relationship will be irreparable."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Ineria's fingers clenched on her clothes.

"You are living vicariously through your daughter. You were the star of every school production and you want Matilda to be just like you." The stillness in Nevena's voice was giving way to her frustration. Ineria wouldn't listen. She never listened. "But Matilda isn't like you. Matilda is her own person, and she is a brilliant, intelligent, generous, sensitive, bright person. But you refuse to see that in her, unless it's in doing what you expect of her."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Ineria said again, more fiercely. Her hands flew to Nevena's, knuckles white as she gripped and dug her nails into top of Nevena's hands. Nevena flinched at the quick movement and at the way the table jerked. As children a gesture like that often meant Ineria slapping her around the face. She wouldn’t do it in public, but Nevena still felt a familiar, phantom sting in her cheek. She saw Ineria's lips curl into an unpleasant smirk and tried to pull her hands away. "You think you can lecture me on children and family? Please, that's laughable. What do you know about family, Nevena?"

"I--"

"Nothing. At least nothing of real note," Ineria released her, leaving crescent moon shaped divots in Nevena’s skin,  and began to gather up her things, collecting bags and checking that nothing was missing. Even as she did, her eyes did not leave Nevena's face for longer than a second. Nevena could feel a throb in her hands where Ineria had pushed her fingernails deep. "You don't have your own family. You weren't even wanted by this one," Ineria sneered. "You are a poor, unworthy replacement who has nothing to offer. You are worthless. You always have been worthless. You always will be worthless, and it’s high time you realised it." She didn't raise her voice - she didn't even change the cadence of her words. She simply spoke them, each syllable sharp and dripping with venom that seeped into Nevena's conscious. The space behind Nevena's eyes prickled sharply. She clenched her jaw to keep her chin from shaking but she could feel her eyes welling up. Ineria always knew where to attack, where she was most sensitive, and she could bring Nevena to nothing with so little. Ineria knew it too. But this...The look of triumph on her face made Nevena's skin crawl and go cold. Ineria got to her feet. "You should really look in the mirror before you go trying to fix other people. Especially when you’re the only one that needs fixing.

Nevena took a slow breath, "Matilda--"

"Is my daughter, and nothing to do with you," Ineria said coldly. She stood, and approached Nevena, bags in one hand. The other she placed on Nevena's shoulder and squeezed, hard. "Thank you for your insight," Ineria murmured to her. "However, just like you, it is unwanted."

A cold chill ran down Nevena's spine. She shivered as Ineria dug her fingers into her shoulder and released. She didn't move for at least thirty seconds. Her eyes were wide and painful when she finally blinked. Tears ran down her face and she quickly wiped them away. She would not make a spectacle of herself out in the open for everyone to see. If she was going to cry then she'd at least do it somewhere secluded.

She just needed to remember how to move.

Nevena's whole body felt like it was locked up. Her legs were almost solid and she struggled with remembering how get out of her chair. Breathing was hard too; her chest felt constricted and squeezed, every breath a hard gasp of sheer desperation. Her chest wouldn't expand enough to fill her lungs. She fought to stay calm, at least until she was away from everyone. If she could manage that, she could get through this and make her way back to Haven.

To Skyhold, and privacy.

To Cullen; the safety and comfort he provided would be the panacea to everything.

Her mind was spinning. Ineria was never nice to her, but what just passed between them was vicious. The malice and the anger was almost palpable. Ineria had never made her distain for Nevena secret, but it was like she was unleashing everything now. All the years of resentment and pain building up and being allowed to fester like an infected woundhad become a bubbling over cauldron of hate.

And that was it. Ineria hated her. Nevena realised that now. It wasn't simple sibling rivalry or differences. It was legitimate, unabashed hatred.

Aware that her tears were coming quicker, Nevena forced herself to her feet. She grabbed her satchel and swung it onto her shoulder, rubbing her eyes quickly on her sleeve. Someone behind her yelled and they whacked her bag.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Nevena choked out. Her throat was closing over, as if it wasn't hard enough to breathe already. She took a desperate gulp of air, tucked her head down and started walking.

Breathe. She told herself, trying to remember how to bring herself out of the panic and anxiety threatening to drown her. Drowning. She was drowning. How did that happen? Drowning in a sea of people and silently screaming. There were faces all around her, a cold floor underneath her. Glances of confusion, distain, disgust. Someone touching her. Hands. Too many hands. Too many voices. Too much was happening.

Her vision clouded at the corners, her clothes constricted around her, limiting her movement. They reduced the air she could get. They stuck to her like glue. She was uncomfortable, itchy. Every inch of her skin felt like it was crawling and there was something underneath, digging frantically to get out. Wherever she was, she forced herself to her feet and ran. Her lungs were burning with every forced breath as she weaved and ducked around people, and pillars, and decorations. She didn't know where she was going, what she doing - even where she was seemed like a distant memory, forgettable within the pain.

Every step was hard. The ground was hard, but it felt like she was trying to wade through mud. People were still staring. She heard them ask after her, saw their eyes see her face, tear stains and red cheeked. Several people reached out to grab her as she ran. Nevena recoiled and flinched from each hand, every finger. What if they caught her? What then? She could hardly breathe, let alone form words. She knew she needed to find somewhere isolated and safe. If she could do that she could bring herself down, bring herself out of the panic and everything would be fine. She would be fine. She could do this. She'd done it before.

Ducking down a hallway that seemed more deserted than the rest of the shopping centre, Nevena's vision darkened because of the lower light. There were no bright, white festive lights in the corridor and the merry tingling of music was quieter here. Everything was already dulled by the blood pumping in her ears, but the rest of her senses were in overdrive. Nevena ripped up the sleeves of her jumper and checked her skin. There was nothing moving, nothing trying to dig out, yet she scratched for good measure - just to make sure. The sensation of her fingernails raking over her skin was a pleasant, sharp sensation. It gave her clarity, just enough.

Finding a corner - a wall, somewhere that she felt safer and not quite so open - Nevena dug around in her bag for her phone. She fumbled with it, struggled with her security code several times and just managed not to throw it against the wall on her third failed attempt.

"Come on, Nevena," she gasped angrily at herself. "Think!" She slammed her head back against the wall. It hurt, pain ricocheting down her neck and over the top of her skull. The pain throbbed. Nevena entered her passcode successfully.

She wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve as she scrolled through names with trembling fingers. Her eyes hurt when she rubbed them. Her eyes lashes were clumped together and she could taste salt on her lips when she licked them.

When she found the name she wanted she began to type. It was more difficult than she remembered, trying to spell a word correctly. She managed it after a several attempts. With the message sent, Nevena pulled her knees into her chest and buried her face into her legs.

"I'm alright," she told to herself in a low whisper. "I'm alright. I'm alright." She just needed to believe it.

I know this chapter takes quite a different turn to the one before, but still - I hope you enjoyed it. 

Ineria has issues. If that wasn’t obvious. They’ll be addressed. Also, just to let you know, uploads may slow down a bit. I have a lot of chapters already written, so they won’t slow down too much, but I don’t want to hit my buffer, because I’m having A LOT of trouble on the later chapters, which has put me behind schedule. I’m hoping I’ll get some inspiration soon, but for now, for my own sanity, uploads may be every three weeks, rather than every two.

I hope you understand. 

Thanks for reading. As always, your support means so much to me, and I love hearing your thoughts. So please don’t be shy. Reblog with your comments, tags, comment on the post or on AO3, or you can just send me a not on tumblr on anon if you prefer. Just let me know what you think.

See you guys in the next chapter. <3

[miraclemin-blog]

get what you deserve

Oh Sehun is hopelessly in love with Kim Junmyeon through the lens of his camera.

AU: idolverse. solo!junmyeon/fansite!sehun

written for my lovely friend courtney (follow her on twitter @/nomjoonie), i love her a lot and this has been rotting in my WiPs folder since July so today is the day i put her out of her misery. please enjoy my poorly cobbled together seho and find me funny. it fuels my ego.

title from: First Things First - Neon Trees

velleity ; noun /vɛˈliːɪti/

formal

A wish or inclination not strong enough to lead to action;

 Sunshine hurt his eyes and anything that wasn’t refracted by a camera lens was often too much for Oh Sehun; such was the life of a fansite master. He was all too familiar with two types of bags, those that belonged to his camera equipment and those that belonged to the late nights and too many coffees. Questions were also something he was intimately familiar with but, after the first two (?) years he’d managed to mute the sarcastic laughter that too often came with being the only, or one of the few, fanboys at events.

Kim Junmyeon’s events to be specific.

Things hadn’t really started out with his intentions being that of becoming a fansite master. It had been a few clicks here and there, a youtube playlist that soon snowballed into a spotify playlist. Buying Junmyeon’s discography had come soon after, and believe him, that was when he thought he was going to stop. Strapped-for-cash college students rarely even considered clicking the ‘buy’ button when scrolling through music on iTunes; but it happened and frankly he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

The money was good, much better than his shitty job at that bubble tea place was paying him (he wasn’t going to name names because he wasn’t successful enough to be burning bridges just yet). So yes, he was a fan, hell that went without saying if you were a fansite and frankly he had no respect for people that were in it just for the money. There weren’t many people that ran sites that weren’t heavy Junmyeon groupies — there were some and they were frowned upon. You could spot them at the fan signs, their only smiles were when they got a shot no other sites had gotten and they always left right after, staying to mingle with fellow fans was mostly definitely not their speed.

Fans knew those sites too though, and subsequently avoided them, hence why Sehun had risen to be one of the more popular sites. Mon Kim, the site run by Kim Jongdae, was also rather popular and Sehun actually had no issues collaborating with Jongdae occasionally. When it came to being a fansite, yes there was competition, but it was all within the interests of good fun.

They all loved Junmyeon just as much.

Or at least that was what Oh Sehun was trying to convince himself of at 5:30 am in the morning when he was running on a health five cups of double shot espresso and two (?) energy drinks. He’d lost count. It had gotten to the point that his fingers weren’t slow on the keyboard, so much as shaking enough to stop them from reaching their destination. While it wasn’t the healthiest hour to be up at, Sehun’s designer had bailed on him at the last second and he was desperately working to secure someone to design his latest fan site project — a feat that wasn’t simple when everyone else had already snapped up the more reliable in the field.

Flopping back in his chair a roll of whatever emotion you felt with the unease of if things were even going to pan out and right before you realised you had reached a point at which caring had stopped being your problem. It was an emotion that he’d felt probably too many times in his career as a full time fansite master but he knew that a roof over his head was worth not giving it up.

Sehun made a sad attempt at ridding his neck of the crinks that had settled in throughout the night but the bone deep exhaustion that had settled in made anything more that cracking his knuckles an arduous task. His chair creaked in protest as he clambered out of the leather bound creation, wincing as the wheels squealed in all their unoiled glory. It was probably a wise decision to do something about that; either by buying another chair in replacement or plucking up the energy to actually lay his hands on some WD-40 or something. In all likelihood he was going to buy another chair, because well, Oh Sehun just didn’t do manual labour that wasn’t taking pictures and elbowing people out of his way for said photos.

Bed was his welcome haven, inviting and warm as he slipped into the freshly pressed sheets. What was not so welcome was his phone, glaring through the darkness as he sleepily pulled up the ‘alarms’ screen, reminding himself unhappily that he would be getting up for the early cuing for one of Junmyeon’s fan greets the next day. The meet itself actually started at 11:30 but if he had any hope of buying any amount of albums he’d need to be there around 6:30 am but he’d allow himself until 7 am because by god he’d been working his ass off.

Sleep came to him slowly, defying any of the writing clichés of sleep swallowing you whole in a wretched night. Instead it rolled on like an insistent storm front, making itself at home on the outer edges of his consciousness and teasing him until it seemed like he wouldn’t have any sleep before he needed to be awake. Fortunately the universe had pity on him and his eyebags, leaving him with 45 hours of hard earnt rest before he even needed to consider even waking up and gathering the equipment he hadn’t had the forethought to pack up before he crawled into bed.

While it would usually be accurate to say that Sehun slept while thinking of Junmyeon, he didn’t even have time to drift to REM sleep before rude and sharp chirps were prying his eyes open. He forced himself to rise out of bed, immediately forgoing the option of a shower in favour of packing up his supplies. Actual solids were very much off the table with only time to grab a liquid breakfast before he tore out the front door, glasses skewed and eyebags still very much intact.

The things Oh Sehun would do for Kim Junmyeon.

Once again Jongdae and he were the only men in the line and while it did thoroughly amuse him, Sehun wasn’t about to push the envelope of Jongdae’s put out pout. “I wish more fanboys appreciated him.” There were about 1001 reasons that wasn’t about to happen any time soon but Sehun saved his friend the reality check and instead opted with pulling his camera out of its bag, checking the lenses carefully. Jongdae rambled on behind him, encouraged by the undulating wave of girls that did nothing but squeal a little louder with each passing official-ish looking car.

“There are some, they fund our sites remember? They’re just not coming to the events because they feel judged man. Toxic masculinity and all, y’know?” It wasn’t really an original thought but rather one that he’d seen echoed around on his site a couple times, lurking in the corner of the forums and such. “I’ve had to step in a couple of times on my site even, when the female fans have gotten too clingy and all over Junmyeon.” He admitted, face souring a little as he recalled the bitter responses that he’d gotten in the moments before they realised that he was indeed the site runner and they wouldn’t have pictures of their precious oppa™ were it not for him. Call him cynical but while he ran a fansite he still disliked the greed that some of his patrons displayed when he wasn’t quick enough in putting up the HDs or any other variety of perceived faults on his part.

Spoiler: Sehun did this for the fun and appreciation of Junmyeon with the money a nice aside. Besides, sometimes he just really needed a nap after music shows or concerts. 

Jongdae’s fist hit his side in a teasing punch that Sehun would usually let pass but it knocked his camera and he could have sworn his life flashed before his eyes as the lens stalk hit the pole he was standing beside. A death glare blinked through the space that spanned between he and Jongdae, reminding the man that Sehun would not hesitate to sabotage any and every shot he was planning to capture today. “Wanting Junmyeon…like that? I think it’s fine for both genders. I mean I’m personally not y’know.” The statement as a whole was fine and Sehun did indeed agree with it, hell he’d be a little hypocritical to be saying that people shouldn’t find others of the same sex hot (sue him, Junmyeon was sexy when he wanted to be). What he took issue with was the final implication that Jongdae didn’t swing that way, a thing they both knew to be a lie.

A teeny tiny scoff defied Sehun’s attempt to keep quiet and simply reward his friend with a smirk. Figuring that all of his chances of maintaining the tsundere look he usually cultivated in order to avoid talking to weird people, his surprised formed into words. “Are you trying to tell me that you and Chanyeol aren’t…?” he trailed off and left it to the raise of his right eyebrow to communicate his point.

Realization did eventually dawn across Jongdae’s face but god, it was a long time coming and Sehun had been about to give up that entire line of conversation; the comprehending ‘OhhhHH’ even came just as he’d opened his mouth to pursue another line of question. While it was tempting to press on with what he was going to say, seeing Jongdae squirm with the question provided reasonable entertainment. Sehun resigned himself to leaning agains the fence for at least another hour and after a quick towards the front of the line, turned his attention to Jongdae.

Slowly though, rather than being polite and allowing him to enjoy the steady blossom of a blush on his friend’s face, the fangirls around him began a roar that he knew only came out when their idol was arriving. Bitter as he was, Sehun wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to get some good shots; quickly he grabbed the camera, hoping quietly that the lens wouldn’t distort Junmyeon horribly, especially considering how close they were. It’d be a lie to say that a lump didn’t catch in his throat as the older man walked by, all sashaying hips and confidence that could only be founded on thousands of people hanging on your every word. If it was anyone else, Sehun would have cracked out a sarcastic reply to the ethereal beauty that was passing in front of him. In reality, all he could do was stare.

In fact he was staring so hard that Sehun actually forgot to bring the camera to his eye, forgot to press down the ‘capture’ button to activate fast shutter mode and capture every single thing the singer did. Were there a moment for one to admit that they weren’t entirely straight, this would have been Sehun’s. Unfortunately he'd confronted that fact the moment he’d woken up after Junmyeon’s latest album release with sheets slightly stickier than he would have liked. Letting a curse hit the wind Sehun did eventually bring the camera up to his face, shuttering a few shots, consoling himself with the fact that other fansite’s arms would be weak now and he might capture some rare photos.

God had apparently decided that photos weren’t what Sehun was meant to catch that morning, instead sending a strong wind and an over-enthusiastic fan slamming into his side. It wasn’t the falling that Sehun minded so much as the embarrassment; he fell over with precious things in his arms all the time so this was hardly a new development. What was new, was the falling over in front of him, Kim Junmyeon. A sharp clatter broke through the haughty tension that were the girls clamouring to get the singer’s attention, only turning as the sound of a lens shattering sliced the airwaves in two, demanding attention for both Oh Sehun and his broken goods.

Ever so slowly, Sehun could feel his world collapsing around him, crashing and slamming against his head with a low chuckle that sprinkled the air and left the girls around him swooning. Kim Junmyeon was laughing at him, and while he’d always tried to seperate business from fun, it hurt to feel those beautiful eyes watching him and laughing. Lifting his head felt like the opposite of what he wanted to do, but he knew that if he was going to maintain any sort pretences he’d need to look up eventually. Silence had settled eventually and Sehun’s shoulders didn’t feel like they were being watched so intensely so he scrambled up, grabbing his camera and glancing quickly at his shattered lens before deciding against risking the cuts.

Everything would have been fine really, if only he hadn’t been met with the worried eyes of a certain hallyu star. Specifically speaking, Kim Junmyeon. “I didn’t realise that you broke your lens! I thought you’d just stumbled a little and my manager said something funny and I—god I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have laughed but it was…pretty funny….” he rattled off the apology and Sehun would have passed it off as a set piece he was meant to say were it not for the fact that this was Junmyeon. Shuffling on the spot, his feet felt almost like they were stuck, save for a bit of restricted movement; all amounting to him not actually being able to run away like he wanted to. “Are you okay? You’re not cut are you?” Junmyeon continued on, his hands stretching out to touch Sehun’s shoulders before being pushed down by one of the security guards.

A small crowd had gathered around them by this time, both curious as to what the worry was and clamouring for even a look at their idol — either way it amounted in Sehun not really being able to process what was going on. “I-I don’t think I am.” he tried to focus in on the second question, not really bothering to respond to the apology, but making a note of it in his head. “It’s winter so I don’t have much skin exposed,” he offered, hoping that he was making sense and not spouting reasonings that didn’t follow any sort of shared logic. Relief did eventually flood his system as Junmyeon nodded, letting out a sound of agreement before he looked quickly around and clapped a hand on to his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re not too badly hurt. I would stay longer but my manager is giving me that look so if I don’t hurry up he’s gonna yell at me.” Sehun did actually know the look that Junmyeon was referring to, he’d caught it in a couple of his shots, especially the ones where the singer was doing something that he wasn’t strictly meant to be doing. Nodding in understanding he stood back, ruffling his hair and ducking his head in apology towards the manager; god knows how loud he could yell at Jongdae if he was late for an event — he could only imagine that would be amplified were he managing an idol.

He barely had time to let an apology catch on the wind before Junmyeon was hustled into the small complex and he was swamped with fangirls that were suddenly more interested in him than the man they’d come here to see. The predictable questions swarmed in the air, ‘Do you know him?’ ‘Did you save a country in your past life?’ and then some more odd ones, of which his favourite was: ‘How soft were his hands?!’ and the follow up question, ‘WHAT MOISTURISER DO YOU THINK HE USES?!’. Sehun considered actually answering the questions before he felt the cool roll of liquid down his knee, and he was fairly sure he hadn’t urinated so all in all it was likely that it was blood. Jongdae’s subsequent gasp of surprise and fairly clichéd point to his knee, only really confirmed the fact, reminding Sehun of the fact that he had been wearing jeans that had holes at the knee. That explained it. 

Wincing as the cut grazed against the rough material that was his jeans, Sehun came to the realisation that he definitely didn’t have any first aid things on his person at all. His lack of any tangible supplies did however, become a relatively minuscule issue once he considered his camera. Along with no first aid supplies, Sehun hadn’t brought any back up extension lenses and there was no time for him to go home and collect a lens that couldn’t even be guaranteed to do what he wanted. “Fuck, shit.” He grumbled, kicking his foot against the gravel, immediately to regret his decision once his uncovered graze once again brushed with his jeans. 

“Children.” Jongdae hissed out, a warning of a reprimand that wouldn’t dare deal out — especially considering the amount of dirt Sehun had on him. Chanyeol, older than them he was, still wasn’t ready to hear some of the things that came out of Jongdae’s mouth about him.

Blood well and truly smudged along the inside of his pants, Sehun didn’t really have anything he couldn’t complain about. Plans ruined and body aching from the shock (and irritation); he was stuck in line for something that now, seemed rather redundant to attend. “Children,” Sehun started, mocking the tone that Jongdae had adopted, as if feigning he wasn’t one of the more kinky people Sehun had encountered, “didn’t just have their one and a half thousand dollar camera lens ruined, so frankly — I don’t give a shit about their pretty little ears right now.” Sehun fluttered his lashes a couple of times, “Jongdae.” He could tell that his friend thought of snapping out a reply but with the sickly sweet honey that dripped from his name he rethought and nodded instead, gesturing for Sehun to continue on as he was.

Sehun could tell that Jongdae was hesitant to touch him before his fingers even brushed against his shoulders, the sensation muffled by the layers that came with a Seoul winter. “M-Maybe…” Jongdae’s words fell silent with the glaring gaze he was offered as Sehun’s reply. “Maybe…” he was brave, Sehun would give him that; though considering his current mood, there seemed to be a thin line between ‘brave’ and ‘stupid’. “Maybe, you could just enjoy the show? I’ll try and take as many photos as I can so you can have some so it doesn’t look like you totally flaked. I know how fangirls can be.” Third time seemed to be the charm for Jongdae and Sehun had to admit that he couldn’t see that much wrong with his reasoning.

Charity wasn’t something that Oh Sehun usually accepted but right now he wasn’t really in a position to actually say no. He would have strips torn off him if he didn’t have any photos, even if it wasn’t his comeback stage, that had only been a couple of days ago so people were still hungry for photos of him that weren’t just the corporate provided ones. Aware of the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to lord his knowledge of the things Jongdae had said about Chanyeol over his head for at least a month, Sehun ceded that he needed the help with a meek nod.

A smirk that told him Jongdae knew exactly what he’d just negotiated flickered across his friend’s face, and a while he was irritated at having given up some bargaining power; Sehun felt relaxed.

It had been exactly a year and nine months since the last time Sehun’s vision of Kim Junmyeon hadn’t been fractured by the lens of a camera, or any other type of screen (not counting their encounter outside the filming studios). He’d actually forgotten what it felt like to be a regular fan at one of these things, getting numbered and not having to be verified as a ‘proper’ fansite. There were girls (and probably boys) that were most likely attending one of these showings for the first and possibly last time and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little guilty for not appreciating his opportunities properly.

While his duty as a fansite master was usually that of sitting up in the seats, surrounded by the tripods and other gear that helped those who couldn’t get their arms above the sea of heads (Jongdae), this time Sehun was nestled snug against the stage and other fellow fans. A pang of guilt did resound in his heart as he glanced back to catch the eye of Jongdae and the man was alone in a sea of female fansite masters. He knew that the solidarity of having Sehun with him was what had encouraged Jongdae to really flourish in the community so leaving him alone did make him feel…not worried…actually, he was more proud than anything else. This time Jongdae was the one that had his back.

Not having his camera resting heavily in his fingers did feel odd to Sehun, and a few times during the warm up he did freak out momentarily before remembering. Today was for Junmyeon, well, it always was, but he meant that it was for him purely; no photos or anything, all of Sehun’s attention would be on him.

Beats kicked up in the air around them, bouncing off each wall, fine acoustics channeling the sounds perfectly as Junmyeon stepped out on to the stage, sweater tucking in close to his waist and straight jeans inciting every distinctly NON-straight thought Sehun thought he could have. In those few breaths Sehun had as Junmyeon brought the microphone to his lips, he gulped down as much air as possible, knowing he was about to have every stolen gasp and sigh knocked out of  him. Silence save for the ebb and flow of the piano flooded the studio, every eye on Kim Junmyeon, all of them waiting for the exact same thing as Sehun.

The first strains that perhaps didn’t even need a microphone to be heard cut the breaths each individual was holding, resulting in a collective sigh as Junmyeon pulled each audience member into their own private reverie. Sehun’s attention was unblinkingly draw the perfect formation of each word, Junmyeon’s lips almost acting independently of all laws of beauty to create a sound that rivalled the beauty of one’s name being called out by their lover.

Perhaps that was what this was for Sehun, a reminder of just how much he loved and appreciated the man who was right there, so close and yet so far. He found himself mouthing the words by reflex, eyes glued to the man in front of him, losing himself in the music just the same as the other fans. In that moment, just as Sehun was about to slip his eyes closed, to fully lose himself to the sound and the beat, their eyes met and a smile cracked across Junmyeon’s lips. Doing something that even the declaration of World War Three would be pressed to do, his smile snapped Sehun out of it, and his feet, where they’d been moving freely, he tripped, falling into someone’s elbow. To say it was one of the less enticing things he’d done in quite sometime would be an understatement.

Pain kicked in before the embarrassment, though it was hotly followed by a burning on his cheeks that definitely didn’t belong to the slap of skin against skin. His nose and eye hurt too much for him to notice that the music had fallen quiet and there were scattered gasps in the crowd. Right now Sehun’s main focus was making sure he hadn’t actually broken his nose — his supplementary career as a small time model didn’t really need to be jeopardised, especially considering his looming camera costs. “Are you okay?” The voice was amplified and yet close by, and there was feedback of a microphone being set down on the ground. Sehun didn’t piece together evidence until hands hooked under his shoulders and pulled him up to a standing position once again. “Do I need to call an ambulance?” The question was punctuated by the soft trickle of cool blood down and over Sehun’s lips.

By now the whispers had amplified and were periodically cut through by Jongdae’s ‘Sehun-ah!’s and his desperately scrambling to get all their gear packed up while also trying to wade down to his friend’s side. Those broad hands were still fixed on his shoulder and as the blackness of the pain crept back from the edges of his eyes, Sehun finally had the time to catch a glimpse of the man by his side.

Kim Junmyeon stared back at him. Eyes warm and compassionate, every thought that was racing through Sehun’s head slowed and once again the universe narrowed, whispers and gasps falling away as their eyes met. “You were singing beautifully.” He blurted out, eyes wide and shocked, not entirely sure what he was meant to say, “Sorry for interrupting.” An attempt to bow forwards was blocked by those fateful hands, holding his shoulders back and as an unsurprisingly dazzling smile blossomed across his face.

“You’re the one who got hurt at my concert and you’re apologising?” While Sehun knew it was a rhetorical question, he could tell as such from the mirth that tinged each word, he still felt compelled open his mouth and offer an explanation. Junmyeon’s finger came down to silence him, pressing against his semi-parted lips, uncalloused, making Sehun think of that moisturiser question from earlier. “Now I’m gonna ask again, do I need to call an ambulance?” Sehun had hoped he’d avoided the question by blurting out his stupid response but it hadn’t saved him, instead leaving him to laugh awkwardly and try and brush the question off.

Shuffling a little away from Junmyeon so he could tip his head forwards, hoping to prevent the flow of blood to the back of his throat, it was pretty obvious that yes, Sehun needed to go and see someone. “Maybe, but please don’t worry about me, my friend…” he trailed off as Jongdae slide into the situation, tiny hand resting on the small of his back and most likely looking positively ridiculous with all their camera gear strapped to his back. “…he can call for me.”

A hiss of dissent from Jongdae has Sehun looking up, shooting him a look to rival Kyungsoo’s whenever Baek pretended he didn’t have the remote on their movie nights. “Sehun-ah, I wouldn’t say I can…” HIs brow pulled up at Sehun surveyed his friend’s face, daring him to be joking in a time like this. Unfortunately he wasn’t and Jongdae’s face took on an expression of apology he’d not seen since the time Chanyeol had forgotten to wake him up while he was tanning. “I left my phone at home today, things were kind of rushed and I — I forgot.” Fuck. Junmyeon was going to come in all chivalrous, like he seemed to be making a habit of, and Sehun was literally going to be the bleeding idiot.

Sehun ducked his head once again, knowing he could use the excuse of First Aid should he need it, and allowed his gaze to bore holes into the ground, teeth set on edge and shoulders tight. “I’ve got my phone on me. Give me a second to call the ambulance and I’ll let my manager know that I won’t be able to make the rest of the set. This isn’t a major special or anything.” Why Junmyeon was cancelling the show Sehun didn’t really know, nor did he really care, at least if the ambulance was here he’d be able escape the speculative eye of the public and the endearing gaze of Junmyeon.

It was the latter he was more concerned with — like he needed any other excuses to dig himself further into an affection that had no hopes of being reciprocated.

Soon there was only one pair of hands rubbing at his back and shoulders, and they were far too small to below to the singer. “Hyung, why is Junmyeon cancelling his show?” he managed to groan out, vision still slightly blurred at the edges, even fraying into blackness if he tried to focus too hard.

“He said something about going to the hospital with you Sehun, didn’t you hear?” Jongdae’s voice was uncharacteristically serious and he could tell that there was something seriously wrong. His friend nearly never took things seriously unless one of his friends had just gotten hurt, and considering the very real possibility that this had just happened Sehun wasn’t feeling totally inspired. 

They bustled out of the main area quickly, and the faint hush that had settled over the crowd surprised Sehun as he heard Junmyeon’s footsteps following them out to meet the paramedics. 

Exactly how cliché was it that his last thought before the pain got to him was one about Junmyeon? Granted, it was about his moisturiser but he was pretty sure it still counted.

The ambulance ride was excruciating, a mix of Sehun half passed out, and then brushing off the concerned hands of Junmyeon.

Waiting in hospital was worse, Jongdae fidgeting at his side, worrying about the fact that he’d not been able to text Chanyeol why he was late for their lunch date. Sehun had told him to stop being so whiney, Chanyeol was used enough to them being late for things, being a fansite meant you had a pretty hectic schedule. Being whatever he was to Jongdae, Chanyeol should have known that things had the ability to change on the fly and wouldn’t be too worried about what was going on — though he’d probably be surprised when they came back and Sehun had a broken nose.

Strangely enough though, the person that made the trip the worse wasn’t Jongdae, it was the worried mess at his left side, a certain Kim Junmyeon. “God, I’m so sorry, my fans really need to learn about to calm down sometimes…” Sehun has huffed out an appreciative smile at the apology the first couple of times but by the hundredth utterance of the phrase, it had become a little tired. He appreciated the concern over his health but it just made the blush on his cheeks worse and he found himself regretting agreeing to letting Junmyeon come with them.

They’d already sat through the initial check up, the doctors hadn’t sounded too upset and after some sore poking at Sehun’s nose he was sent back into the waiting room. His nose had pretty obviously been broken when he’d looked into the window of the ambulance, coming in and out of consciousness with what had to be a strong mix of anaesthetic and embarrassment. So really, Sehun was more waiting for whatever prescription the doctors gave him, right before his chance to run the fuck out of here and get the hell away from Junmyeon. 

“Are you Oh Sehun?” The same doctor from before stood in the door way, eyes soft as they watched Junmyeon worriedly rubbing Sehun’s back, soothing intentions tainted with the thrum of worry running through his finger tips. Taking on a role that Sehun hadn’t really delegated to him, Junmyeon shot up and out of his seat with an enthusiasm that had a faint smile quirking the edges of Sehun’s lips in spite of the pain rolling from the centre of his face. The poor doctor jumped back a little at the sudden movement, but only before a warm smile settled on his face, eyes drawn back to the habit of bedside manner, poised to assuage the fears of anyone and anything. “Are you his partner?”

Fuck.

Junmyeon’s voice stuttered in the air Sehun almost felt sorry for him as the scrambled, “No, actually, I’m just a friend.” The breath he’d been about to take caught in Shun’s throat as he heard the last word, friend, he supposed they were. One didn’t usually escort strangers to the hospital ward, but Sehun’d just assumed this was some sort of grand gesture of fan service, assumed that this was another one of those times Junmyeon went above and beyond for his fans. The word ‘friend’ hadn’t even occurred to him.

“I’ll let my co-worker know, he was worrying about the famous Kim Junmyeon having a boyfriend. He was rather put out.” Jongdae, worried as he was, choked out a laugh from where he’d sat silent for the last twenty minutes. Sehun followed quickly, biting his lip to hold back a full-blown laugh but when he looked up and saw the scandalised look on Junmyeon’s face he couldn’t manage it anymore and he doubled over, wincing when his hand pressed to his tender cheek. 

A skidding sound came to Sehun’s ears at Junmyeon turned between the doctor and Sehun then back again. “You knew who I am?” he asked, voice harried and rising in pitch with every word.

A faint chuckle once again. “Of course, you’re the prize of our country’s entertainment industry, why wouldn’t I recognise you?” When he looked up again, smile still pressed on his face, Sehun was met with the gaping mouth of Junmyeon.

“Junmyeon, it was stupid of you to think that you wouldn’t be recognised, now come on. Jongdae’s silently begging to be let go and I think the forecast says it’s going to start raining soon.” His excuse was feeble, in truth it was pretty funny to watch Junmyeon squirm as he realised his plans had been fucked up but as funny as it was, Jongdae was getting pretty annoying and Sehun wanted to rest up at home. Breaking his nose was going to put him out of work for at least a couple of weeks, and he wanted to get some sleep in before the real implications of financial loss set in. Pouting, Junmyeon conceded the point, bustling over to Sehun’s side as he stood up, hand firm on his shoulder. “Pick up your prescription at the nurses’ desk and just follow the signs to get to the exit. There’s a rolling cab service so you should be able to get a ride if you don’t live close by.” Sehun did live close by actually, it wouldn’t be too much trouble to walk home alone and hopefully he’d be able to convince Junmyeon to leave him at the door.

“Sehun?”

“Jongdae.”

“Chanyeol is probably wor-“

“Go Jongdae, I’m okay to walk home.”

“Thanks.”

A faint chuckle bubbled from Sehun’s chest and the quirk of his eyebrows hurt just a little as he watched his friend skid around the corner, not wanting to disappoint his beau (were they even dating? Sehun wasn’t sure.). “Are you sure that you’ll be able to walk home? I can get us a cab.” In watching his friend run away Sehun had forgotten there was someone waiting for him at his side, arm slung over his should in a faux attempt at supporting him.

Casting a quick glance over at Junmyeon he let out a more hearty effort at laughter once he noticed he was still in his stage outfit, having been too preoccupied with his injury before to have seen. “I’ll be fine. You can catch a cab back to wherever you need to be hyung,” Sehun said the familiar term before he’d even realised it and felt his neck colour in embarrassment, knowing his body his ears were probably red too.

“I don’t think that’ll be an issue, dongaeng,” His toes curled a little at the way Junmyeon didn’t draw any further attention to the slip in his language, and went even further to return it. It was cute. “I’ll walk you home, I mean, it’s the least I can do.” They were still walking a this point and it was with a vague register in his mind that Sehun realised they were by the nurses’ desk.

He raised his hand as a sign to pause the conversation and hurried to the desk, saying his name before the nurses handed him a stack of paper prescriptions and wished him a speedy recovery. Turning back to Junmyeon, watching him for a moment before returning to his side, Sehun huffed out a quick, “Believe me, I think you’ve gone well beyond what the least was, hyung, and I appreciate it.” Junmyeon shook his head but Sehun knew what he was saying was true. They both did.

They walked slow, even though neither of them had any injuries to their feet, uncrushed as they traipsed down the stairs and ducked into the hospital gift shop. Sehun had been right about the rain and had spotted the clouds in the sky through the porthole like windows, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he allowed a hallyu star to get wet, and consequently, sick, on his watch.

Silence felt good though, it was nothing as he paid for the umbrella, nor as they made their way away from the hospital and onto the main, then side roads, that would eventually take Sehun home. It was nice, to just be with Junmyeon and Sehun felt himself enjoying the occasional bump of their hands a little too much. He was wandering into dangerous territory and by the third time it’d happened he decided it was much better to simply focus on where he was walking rather than indulging his feelings further.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever rushed one of my fans to the hospital before. Even rarer for me to walk them home.” Junmyeon’s words pulled Sehun from his focus on the footpath, taking the cracks and watching them to make sure he didn’t trip and embarrass himself more than strictly necessary.

He huffed an awkward laugh, hand coming up to rub the red on his neck, “About that…” he started up, wanting to give an excuse, perhaps even insist that he’d not asked for him to come with him to the hospital. Junmyeon cut him off like he had earlier, except it was too fingers this time, two fingers that came to rest on Sehun’s plush lips, heating his cheeks as he fell into silence.

“It wasn’t a problem. I’m glad you’re okay, well… semi-okay.”Junmyeon’s eyes watched him as the rain dotted the walkway around them, a cheap hospital gift-store umbrella the only thing shielding them from the rain. Sehun would have responded but those fingers were still pressed to his lips, holding them closed, and yeah, okay, he was frozen still by how warm they felt against his skin.

“I should probably get going. Today technically isn’t one of my days off and my manager always likes to make sure that I squeeze in some practice.” It was an excuse that Sehun knew he’d have to hear eventually, the man standing in front of him wasn’t just anyone, he was Kim Junmyeon. A hallyu star, a rising light for the people of Korea on an international stage, and he was here, standing under an umbrella Oh Sehun was holding for him. Junmyeon’s fingers fell away from his face.

He swallowed back any excuses daring to keep Junmyeon, hoping that he could convince himself that it was okay that Junmyeon would get back in his car, and that this day needed to come to an end. “You should.” was all he managed to get out, voice husky with what he convinced himself was an oncoming cold, not ready to really accept the emotion he knew was filling his eyes. “I don’t want your manage to get upset with you. I’m not worth it.” His attempt to joke, to lighten the atmosphere he felt pressing down on him, crushing him with Junmyeon’s smile dazzling behind his eyes, fell on deaf ears.

Instead of the soft smile, the one that Junmyeon always brought out for his interviews when they asked about ideal types, Sehun was met with furrowed brows. A purse of the lips that was all too alike the expression Junmyeon had worn as he’d bundled Sehun up and took him backstage earlier today dusted his face, the idol looking up at him with concern. “Well considering how terrifying he is, I wouldn’t say anyone is but, I���d say…” Junmyeon trailed off, eyes drifting to the ground as Sehun guessed he looked for his words. “…I’d say,” Sehun licked his lips, “that, that I’d feel less bitter about being yelled at if it meant I got to spend a bit more time with you.” He finished his sentence with a curt nod, eyes turned to crescents and hands well and truly wrapped around Sehun’s heart.

Pulling his bottom lip through his teeth, rain hitting his shoulders as Sehun tipped the umbrella further forward to shield Junmyeon, “I’m touched.” The words were simple, spoken with a sentimentality that Jongdae would tease him about for days if he heard them. He didn’t though, the man in front of him did.

The hand traced his jawline for a brief moment, mapping out the gentle curve to where it tapered into his chin, even there it slowed for a moment, thumb coming up and brushing against his bottom lip. Softly, oh so softly, the thumb skirted across the full expanse of his lips, tracing the outline before the hand fell away, once again cupping his jaw, pulling him ever so gently forwards. 

Eyes having drifted shut Sehun didn’t know what was going to happen until it did, until he felt the insistent press of those lips, the ones he’d dreamt of touching, those that he’d wished to feel night after night.

Oh Sehun was the one that Kim Junmyeon kissed.

Kim Junmyeon was the one Oh Sehun kissed back.

AN//

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Just add me on Facebook. Did you see my lunch the other day on Instagram? CleverBets2017 is now following you.You have been added to the whats app group Jeans 40th birthday. I guarantee at some point in the last few years you have all heard these things be you a Twitterer, Facebooker, Instagrammer, whatsapper or otherer (there's always an otherer) the crazy world that is socialising and social media absorbs your daily being, turning you into a mindless scrolling zombie. Flicking from one app to the next without a care in the world. Have we forgotten the days of calling people for a chat in the kitchen because that's where the phone is? looking through pictures you have had developed from holidays gone by? TEXT MESSAGING!?  HAVE WE LOST OUR WAY IN A BLUR OF CLICK  BAIT ARTICLES, MEMES AND COMMENT SECTIONS ON GROUPS THAT OFFEND THE PEOPLE WHO NEED TO BE OFFENDED!!  Let's start at the beginning.

Firstly I must point out the thing that makes most of this possible, the enabler of such activity, without it people would sit in a bar by themselves waiting for their friends awkwardly, the smart phone. Iphone/Samsung/Pigeon carrier whatever you are you have the tech literally at your fingertips to engage with anyone anywhere at any point. Bluetooth, 4g, WIfi, order a taxi, order a pizza for the taxi, watch TV, listen to the radio, I mean what is there that your smartphone does not do? What happened to the days of 3 ringtones per phone, polyphonic nonetheless, the genius that was snake, phones that when you dropped them instead of the screen smashing into a thousand pieces you feared for every bone in your foot. Now you have a bing, ding or some other strange noise you've never heard before and that's it, you are taken away into the online world forever, well not forever but at least for the foreseeable.

Ok anyway the beginning, well maybe not the beginning let's not forget Myspace with its click counter and putting your friends in order of who you liked the most. But no the real beginning for me has to be the arrival of Facebook. Facebook changed the boundaries of social etiquette in so many ways. People; be it dates, friends, random weirdos at a party or work no longer exchange phone numbers or show pictures. No no that's no longer necessary, ‘What's your full name?’ That is necessary, and a whole lot simpler to try and guess than a long list of numbers. Yes a person's full name is all you need for a full back catalogue of the last 10 years of anyone's life. Pictures, relationships, family members, age, home town, which spice girl you dressed up as at your local school disco it's all there, waiting for you, willing you to find it! More info than any sane human being should be able to process after 5 minutes of facebook stalking someone. Oh yes that's the other thing, I mean another thing, there are many things. Facebook stalking someone is widely known and accepted. As if this level of intense research into someone's life is any different from actual stalking. Looking through Katies pictures from her trip to Benidorm in 2003, specifically pausing on the bikini clad pics is just as creepy as standing outside her house in the rain hoping to steal a glimpse of her in the shower. Katie if you are reading this you can't prove anything. I guess the difference being is Katie put those pictures on Facebook right? So she wanted people to see them right? Her friends right? In which case she should be ok with her friends waiting outside her window in the rain, trying to get a glance at some sideboob action. Not sure why it has to be raining but it just does.

So what's your name? Add me on facebook. If they are interesting enough you trudge through making opinions on things. The thing is Facebook is a keyhole into someone's life that they want you to see. We all know this yet we all forget it. People (and when I say people I mean everyone) are fabricating whole lives through social media. Informing overs about brilliant family get togethers, forgetting the 16 arguments that occurred on the day and merely commenting on the pictures with everyone smiling. Adding road trip tags about how awesome the journey was even though Dave was asleep the whole way and Nick wouldn't stop farting. Or there's the amazing stays in hotels or brilliant 5 star meals or BBQing with every friend possible… You can forgive people for wanting to only post the most exciting parts of their  lives, I do the exact same thing but just once i'd like flick open the app and see:

Katie is thinking about staring at a tree.

It would probably get the same amount of likes anyway!

All that being said there are several scenarios that have grown into the very fabric of FB. Those things that happen which we all know about but either ignore, forget or are apart of. The ground to cover here is vast so I will move quickly;

The sheer anger towards each other in comment sections on a post nobody can even remember after the 45 replies is embarrassing.And it always ends with someone correcting someone else's fucking grammar, And no Michael Jackson isn't just here for the comments and popcorn.

People who re-post nonsense that starts with, ‘Most of your friends won't have the guts to re-post this’ can all suck a bag of dicks.

People who still play games and still send out invites - HOW ARE YOU STILL DOING THIS?

Click bait articles in which you never get the answer to the question posed in the headline which just makes me so mad I want to argue with anyone in the comments section.

When you see people still fraping each other and it depends on your mood as to if it's funny or not that MIke loves huge cocks.

And then there's this;

Saying Happy birthday on your birthday. I kid you not I have both posted happy birthday on a good friend's wall when he changed it for a joke looking like I have no idea when his birthday is and also missed a good friend's birthday because they took it down from Facebook. In fact the alert of someone's birthday on every single morning of every single day reminds me that i'm still friends with that person on here and that I should remove them from my Friends list, HAPPY BIRTHDAY INDEED! I do enjoy the Happy Birthdays on my birthday though, I wonder how many friends I lose on that day. Imagine that last sentence attached to real life, ‘I wonder how many friends I lose on my birthday’. Yeah thanks Facebook.

After all that nonsense there's then the people which I always say I will never be but will never know until I get there, Mums and Dads. The people who feel the need to show their children off to the whole internet every time he/she sneezes. Don't get me wrong, new parents I understand, absolutely, but there's a point where it surely must stop.

So proud of little Tommy here he is on:

His first day at school. 20 likes

At a swimming Gala 30 likes

Riding a bike 35 likes

Sleeping 100 likes.

FUCK OFF, i'm serious. How Is it that parents manage to escape the ability to realise that nobody else on earth is as interested in their child as much as they are. Well apart from the Savilles of the world but surely that's just adding to reasons why little Tommy on a bike should be kept to exactly that. I mean you wouldn't walk up to a stranger in the street and go, hey guy look at my kid in his new school Uniform, you like? Just give me a thumbs up and then tell all your mates to come look and give me a thumbs up as well.

Saying that I want to see pictures of your kids (sounds odd) about as much as I want to see pictures of your dinner. A friend of mine whatsapped me the other month (because nobody texts anymore. You all have that one friend that still texts you and you can't understand why) asking if i'd seen his dinner from the night before. What on earth happened before facebook/Instagram? Did people invite the neighbours over to look at their food before telling them to go away so they could eat it? Stupid thing is if someone stalks me ON FACEBOOK long enough i'm probably guilty of this myself. If like me as well you grew up with facebook when it first became a thing, I was at UNI. Hundreds of pictures of me being drunk and doing stupid things went up over a 3 year period. I was completely oblivious to the concept that my Parents Aunties/Uncles and all relatives may at some point join this network, leaving a huge window into my life open for anyone to see. Adam why are you in a shopping trolley at 6am? At least it's not my dinner!!!

While Facebook was the poster boy for socialising online there were many other apps following suit which had you mindlessly scrolling through smart phones as if other people were simply not in the room. To coin a phrase, does your phone want a drink? If it's not instagram with its crazy hashtags, #blog #tumblr #words #life #trees #Lettuce it's Twitter with well it's crazy hashtags, or SnapChat or Tinder or Fuckafish. I made that last one up but i'll bet if I had a quick look I would find an app for such means, probably endorsed by Bear Grylls.

With all this mindless scrolling going on we venture into the world of whatsapp. Past the causal 1-2-1s you have with your friends where you send constant pictures of yourself smiling like an idiot because you are bored of checking if your twitter post has been retweeted, there's the groups. Not as in Louis got the groups but the groups. You will have a group of friends group, a different group of friends group but with certain friends from the first group in that group, a family group and birthday group, a work group, without that dick from finance, a travelling in the car somewhere that nobody comments in anymore because you went wherever you were going group, a holiday group, a friend's pet group a... you get the picture. Your life is taken over when you wake up to 50 unread messages, mostly because Nick posted a funny meme or Rachel wants the money for the birthday present.You reply as thoroughly as you can copy and pasting Nick's now that you've woken up hilarious meme into several other groups,  pleased with the joke stealing laughs you are getting. Even if they all seem to be out loud. You find you have lost hours of the day communicating with people you could have just gone to see.

Further to that time wasting notion the creators then bought you whatsapp.web. Allowing you to have the app on your desktop, a sort of throwback to Messenger but with less smileys in people's titles and no nudge function. Shame on the no nudge function, loved having the feeling of a headache portrayed on a computer. So yes Whats app on your computer. At home. At work more like. With a million and one things to do, you are busy chatting to friends, family members and anyone who wants to listen. Tweeting about something completely unimportant, clicking through picture after picture of a lovely pie and mash or cheese board or a dog's dinner on Instagram only stopping to briefly stalk that girl you met last night on Facebook, she didn't give you her number but that's ok you don't need that. You've got a complete overview of what she's been doing for the last 10 years or so.Hell you don't even need an umbrella, it's not raining in your office.

[mavwrekmarketing]

Image copyright Dan Harris

Image caption The Amazons: (L-R) Chris Alderton, Elliot Briggs, Matt Thomson and Joe Emmett

If its riffs you’re after, The Amazons have them in spades. Great big spades. More like shovels, really. Or a digger. An entire digger full of riffs.

Rising from Reading, the four-piece have been on an upwards trajectory for the last two years, gigging relentlessly around the UK in a tour van they call “Big Suze”.

“We’ve taken her everywhere,” says flame-haired singer and guitarist Matt Thomson. “There’s been a lot of throwing up in it. A lot of drunken nights.

“We’ve even shut our guitarist’s hand in the door. He had to play the next show with two fingers.”

But the decrepit Ford Transit van met a grisly end earlier this year, when the band set it on fire for the cover of their debut album.

“We thought, who are we and what do we do?” says Thomson. “We wanted to shoot the cover in Reading – to put our flag in the ground and say, ‘We’re a Reading band and we’re not ashamed of it’.

“After that, it was just coming up with the wackiest thing we could think of, and that was setting the van on fire.”

Image copyright Fiction Records

Image caption The Amazons’ album cover “in full”

It’s not just frivolous vandalism, though. It’s a metaphor.

“Reading’s a commuter town. It’s quite a mundane town. It’s the kind of place that people want to get away from. We want to celebrate it, but we also started a band to go on an adventure and leave it. I think that’s what we’re conveying in our album artwork.”

Behind the artwork, the album rattles with power chord anthems, from the full-pelt rock of Stay With Me to the boisterous bluster of Black Magic.

Speaking to BBC News ahead of the its release on 26 May, Thomson shared some of the best stories from the band’s first three years.

They used their connections at Waitrose to build an audience

Image copyright PA

“If stacking shelves doesn’t make you want to be a rock star, nothing will,” laughs Thomson, who worked at his local branch of Waitrose during the band’s early days.

However, showing entrepreneurial skills that would make Alan Sugar sweat biscuits, he used his position to win The Amazons a few new fans.

“My job, personally, was about online shopping. So I’d go through someone’s list, picking out the shopping, putting it in baskets, and then I would slip our little demo CD into there.

“We didn’t know how to get our name out there. If no-one’s playing you on the radio, then you just do what you have to do.

“So who knows? We might have a fan base of old grannies in Pangbourne.”

They’ve played some terrible gigs

Media playback is unsupported on your device

Media captionThe Amazons perform Black Magic on Later with Jools Holland

“Dunfermline,” says Thomson decisively, when asked to recall the band’s worst gig. “Weird town. They have a park that’s absolutely jam-packed full of squirrels and they’ll come up to you and take crisps from you. Never seen anything like it in my life.

“Anyway, we played at about one in the morning and it was deserted, except for this old Scottish couple who were slow-dancing. I don’t know what their internal mind music was, but they were not hearing us.”

The band have also experienced several stage invasions over the last year… much to their disgust.

“It’s quite irritating, actually, if I’m honest,” says the singer. “They all trample on your gear and stand on the effects pedals. Everything gets cut off and you can’t finish your goddamn song!

“And people are well up for stealing stuff.

“After gigs, we’ll be taking pictures with people, and they’ll ask me to sign a drum stick. I’ll say, ‘Did Joe [Emmett, drummer] give you this?’ And they say, ‘Not really, no!’ They just go into his bag and take them. Unbelievable.”

They’re ‘on a mission to reinvigorate rock and roll’

At least, that’s what their press release says.

“Listen, I don’t write the press releases,” cringes Thomson. “I don’t think rock necessarily needs to be reinvigorated [but] it’s become more of a niche thing than 10 years ago, when you had bands like the Arctic Monkeys in the charts.

“But we love rock and roll, whether it’s cool or not, and that’s the music that we make.”

Matt Thomson is not a good boyfriend

Image copyright Dan Harris

The most excoriating song on The Amazons’ debut album is In My Mind – in which Thomson describes letting a relationship fester long after he’d broken up with his girlfriend in his mind.

“Don’t have the strength to carry on,” he sings over pummelling guitars. “Don’t have the guts to let you know what’s going on.”

Initially, he considered changing the lyrics to spare his ex’s feelings, “but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d dumbed it down”.

In the end, though, his candour came back to bite him.

“There are about two or three different girls who’ve said they think it’s about them, which is terrible. It does not paint a good picture of me. And you know what? Maybe they all have a case.”

The Amazons have a lot of lyrics about being alone

Media playback is unsupported on your device

Media captionThe Amazons perform Junk Food Forever on Later with Jools Holland

On Stay With Me, Thomson sings, “there’s nothing wrong with being alone“. On Junk Food Forever, it’s “I don’t want to be alone“. And on In My Mind, he opines, “I’m better off being alone“.

So which is it?

“Amazing question!” he laughs. “I do think about being alone a lot; and I change my mind about it constantly.”

Junk Food Forever is the most accurate depiction of his feelings, he reckons.

“When I wrote it, the band was going nowhere, all my friends were going to uni and I was stuck in Reading. I realised I don’t like being alone. I love being surrounded by people and seeing friends.

“You know how Bob Marley had a big mansion and all his friends and family lived there? That would be my dream.”

They’re going to stalk Lana Del Rey at Radio 1’s Big Weekend

“I’m very excited about Big Weekend,” enthuses Thomson. “I looked at the line-up and we’re easily the smallest act. It’s glorious.

“We are playing at midday. And I am very up for just putting the gear back in the van, getting the beers and seeing all the other acts.”

Top of his list is Lana Del Rey, who plays after them on Saturday night.

“I love Lana Del Rey. I love her, let’s just put it that way. But there is no way I’ll be able to get near her. She’ll have 12 huge guys around her… Mind you, she has insane fans, who probably are dangerous, so that kind of makes sense.

“But just to be in the same room would be amazing.”

Their album was finished a year ago

Image copyright Dan Harris

Seriously. The band went into the studio with producer Catherine Marks (The Killers, Wolf Alice, PJ Harvey) last April but decided to sit on the record.

In the meantime, the band were tipped by influential polls like MTV Brand New and the BBC’s Sound of 2017, and booked to play on Later… With Jools Holland.

“I’ve read interviews where bands have been sitting on albums for a while and they’ve all said it’s terrible but I’ve not really minded that much,” says Thomson.

“I think if we’d got all that attention and the album wasn’t ready, there’d have been a lot of pressure, so I’m thankful we did it under the radar and made the album we wanted to make.

The Amazons’ self-titled debut albu, is out on 26 May. They play Radio 1’s Big Weekend on Saturday, 27 May.

Follow us on Facebook, on Twitter @BBCNewsEnts, or on Instagram at bbcnewsents. If you have a story suggestion email entertainment.news@bbc.co.uk.

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Life is Easy. Why Do We Make It So Hard?

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Being locked down at home isn’t something new or unusual for me. I have been working from home for the past nine years. And when I say working from home, I mean consciously being locked down, with my eyes in my books or on the computer screen and my hands on the keyboard most of the time.

However, this situation is unusual for my kids. Like all kids, they are finding it uneasy not being able to meet their friends and go out and play, though they understand the responsibility of not doing so as of now.

So, one of my responsibility as a “locked-at-home-father-with-locked-at-home-kids” is to come up with ideas to keep them from getting bored. And one of those ideas has been for our kids to tell us stories that they have read or heard. It’s like they are enacting as parents and me and my wife as kids, waiting to hear good night stories before we sleep.

Here is a story my eight-year-old told us last night, which I thought had a great lesson for most of us chasing success, fame, wealth, and everything that we think makes life better.

I also thought this story makes great sense in the current times of fear and uncertainty, so thought of sharing with you.

The story is from Aesop Fables and is titled The Town Mouse & the Country Mouse. Here it goes –

A Town Mouse once visited a relative who lived in the country. For lunch the Country Mouse served wheat stalks, roots, and acorns, with a dash of cold water for drink. The Town Mouse ate very sparingly, nibbling a little of this and a little of that, and by her manner making it very plain that she ate the simple food only to be polite.

After the meal the friends had a long talk, or rather the Town Mouse talked about her life in the city while the Country Mouse listened. They then went to bed in a cozy nest in the hedgerow and slept in quiet and comfort until morning. In her sleep the Country Mouse dreamed she was a Town Mouse with all the luxuries and delights of city life that her friend had described for her. So the next day when the Town Mouse asked the Country Mouse to go home with her to the city, she gladly said yes.

When they reached the mansion in which the Town Mouse lived, they found on the table in the dining room the leavings of a very fine banquet. There were sweetmeats and jellies, pastries, delicious cheeses, indeed, the most tempting foods that a Mouse can imagine. But just as the Country Mouse was about to nibble a dainty bit of pastry, she heard a Cat mew loudly and scratch at the door. In great fear the Mice scurried to a hiding place, where they lay quite still for a long time, hardly daring to breathe. When at last they ventured back to the feast, the door opened suddenly and in came the servants to clear the table, followed by the House Dog.

The Country Mouse stopped in the Town Mouse’s den only long enough to pick up her carpet bag and umbrella.

“You may have luxuries and dainties that I have not,” she said as she hurried away, “but I prefer my plain food and simple life in the country with the peace and security that go with it.”

Moral: Poverty with security is better than plenty in the midst of fear and uncertainty.

(Source)

This story took me back to a video I had seen some years back of a TED talk given by Jon Jandai, a farmer who lived in a small village in northeastern Thailand.

Jon’s life, as he described, was easy and fun. However, people from outside the village convinced him that he was poor and that he should move to Bangkok to pursue success. So he went to Bangkok in search of a better life, but quickly felt miserable staying there, luckily returned to his village, and then wondered –

Life is easy. Why do we make it so hard?

In his talk, Jon explained why he stopped chasing other people’s dreams and instead started living life on his own terms –

And before I think that stupid people like me who never get a good grade in the school, cannot have a house. Because people who are cleverer than me, who get number one in the class every year, they get a good job, but they need to work more than 30 years to have a house. But for me who cannot finish university, how can I have a house? Hopeless for people who have low education, like me.

But, then I started to do earthly building, it’s so easy. I spend two hours per day, from 5 o’clock in the morning, to 7 o’clock in the morning, two hours per day. And in three months, I got a house.

And another friend who’s the most clever in the class, he spent three months to build his house, too. But, he had to be in debt. He had to pay for his debt for 30 years. So, compared to him, I have 29 years and 10 months of free time. So, I feel that life is so easy.

He added –

Why we need to follow fashion? Because, when we follow fashion, we never catch up with it, because we follow it. So, don’t follow it, just stay here. Use what you have.

Jon also said this –

We have so many people who finish from university, have so many universities on the Earth, have so many clever people on this Earth. But, life is harder and harder. We make it hard for whom? We work hard for whom right now?

I feel like it’s wrong, it’s not normal. So, I just want to come back to normal. To be a normal person, to be equal to animals. The birds make a nest in one or two days. The rats dig a hole in one night. But, the clever humans like us spend 30 years to have a house, and many people can’t believe that they can have a house in this life. So, that’s wrong.

The stories of Jon and of the Country Mouse who dreamed of living like the Town Mouse have great lessons for a lot of us who believe that a lot is needed to live a happy life.

The lockdown proves otherwise. I am sure, like me, you may have realised that so little is needed to survive and feel secure and happy at it. The lockdown also proves that most of us have “enough” to live with contentment, if we may choose to live that way.

However, because “fear and discontent” sell better than “security and contentment,” the former is what we get used to live with most of our adult lives.

And that shows up everywhere.

Whether it is –

fear of missing out on stocks that we did not buy earlier but are rising now and making other people richer, or

discontentment of living a “visibly” inferior life compared to our friends and neighbours, or

frustration of not getting everything we desire, or

regrets from the past that don’t allow us to move forward with confidence, or

worrying about the future so much that we can’t enjoy the present, or

fear of failures and of making mistakes that keeps us from acting, or

insecurity that keeps us in our comfort zones even when they stop being safe, or

seeking validation from others to determine our own worth.

The list of our fears, insecurities, and discontentment, most of them unwarranted, is endless. However, not all these are our own creation. As Matt Haig writes in his book Reasons to Stay Alive, the world is designed to depress us and keep us there –

Happiness isn’t very good for the economy. If we were happy with what we had, why would we need more? How do you sell an anti-ageing moisturiser? You make someone worry about ageing. How do you get people to vote for a political party? You make them worry about immigration. How do you get them to buy insurance? By making them worry about everything. How do you get them to have plastic surgery? By highlighting their physical flaws. How do you get them to watch a TV show? By making them worry about missing out. How do you get them to buy a new smartphone? By making them feel like they are being left behind.

To be calm becomes a kind of revolutionary act. To be happy with your own non-upgraded existence. To be comfortable with our messy, human selves, would not be good for business.

Consider investing for once. Most people invest using benchmarks set by others than what would help them sleep peacefully at night. Reasonable return expectations are looked down upon in the chase for alpha. Surprisingly, this in a game where alpha is a pipe dream for most people, including the smartest.

More people trade in stocks for emotional than sensible reasons. Portfolios are designed to look good. We are sold stock and mutual fund ideas as if our lives depended on them. And that if we don’t buy those products, we are told, we would end up in poverty and despair, even as our friends and all those friends we know on Twitter and Facebook would get rich.

People are led to make financial plans for 20-30 years ahead, while not many are taught to deal in the present with the behavioural aspects of taking care of their money, like simplicity, frugality, and patience.

Financial freedom remains a subject tied only to money and not to the peace that no amount of money or wealth would get us, but which is a subject matter of the understanding within, of course, along with enough money.

The fact is that the more we think that a lot of money is what we need to live happily, and the more we associate money with most things in life, the more we convince ourselves that we are too poor to buy our freedom.

But this is what the world is increasingly designed to do to us – always create that fear, urge, and urgency to go for more, even when we have more than enough.

However, like Haig adds to the above note –

Yet we have no other world to live in. And actually, when we really look closely, the world of stuff and advertising is not really life. Life is the other stuff. Life is what is left when you take all that crap away, or at least ignore it for a while.

Practice this in investing too, and you will be at great peace always. Take all that crap away – unwanted noise, advice, and financial products – and stick with what is the bare minimum, including the idea of having enough money and that’s it.

You won’t then have to wait for your financial freedom in the future, for the worry about having a lot of money will disappear right away, and you will start feeling grateful for what you have right now – adequate food, safe shelter, and the company of your loved ones.

That world won’t depress you, believe me.

I would like to end the post with a story I shared with my kids recently. It is about a monk and a minister.

Two close boyhood friends grow up and go their separate ways. One becomes a humble monk, the other a rich and powerful minister to the king. Years later they meet up again.

As they catch up, the minister (in his fine robes) takes pity on the thin, shabby monk. Seeking to help, he says: “You know, if you could learn to cater to the king you wouldn’t have to live on rice and beans.”

To which the monk replies: “If you could learn to live on rice and beans you wouldn’t have to cater to the king!”

Stay safe, stay sane, and be grateful for this life.

And as Jon said, life is easy…let’s not make it hard.

The post Life is Easy. Why Do We Make It So Hard? appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

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