#no they’re reliving what they did in the early years

[chryblossomjjk]

jungkook public enemy no 1 on twitter like this is who yall are trying to take down???

[starlightseraph]

house md is actually a love story with a bunch of medical jargon layered on top and no one will ever convince me otherwise.

the first episode is all about whether or not house cares about wilson. it’s proven that he does.

through the first series, it’s established that they’re the only two people who put up with each other.

in series two, house nearly gets back together with his ex. he tells her to leave him. then wilson gets his third divorce, which, like the others, was because he was never fulfilled in his relationships with women. he stays with house. he’s in a hurry to leave, but house tries to make him stay. he eventually moves into a hotel to get away.

in series three, wilson obsesses about trying to ‘fix’ house. to teach him humility and gentleness. when house doesn’t change, wilson is willing to go to prison to protect house.

series 4 sees wilson enter a relationship with a woman, and house is crushed. he can’t share wilson. when the woman is dying and she can’t be saved, wilson asks a gravely injured house to risk his life. house does it, but he can’t save her. house is willing to take that risk because he thinks that, given two options for companionship, wilson would be happier without him. house nearly lets himself die, because he’s afraid to live in a world where wilson hates him.

wilson tries to cut house out of his life in series five. it doesn’t work. he realises that house makes him happier than anyone or anything else in his life. later, house has a psychotic break, and wilson saves him from himself.

series six changes everything. house moves in with wilson. their lives revolve around each other even more so than before. wilson risks his life, and decides he wants house with him. they buy an apartment together, for them and only them. wilson proposes to house as part of a scheme, which he never would’ve done, even as a joke, several years before. wilson no longer gets afraid or angry when people notice his closeness with house. house tries to get wilson to come out of his shell, to stop relying on his relationships (specifically his relationships with women) to define him. wilson realises that he doesn’t know what he wants for himself, just that he wants house to be happy.

in series seven, house and wilson no longer live together and are both in committed relationships with women. yet, somehow, they still choose each other. when both of their relationships end, they lean on each other more than ever.

in series eight, they start off on bad terms, but they quickly realise that their connection is stronger than their anger. wilson gets cancer. house does everything he can to help wilson fight it and to convince wilson to keep trying. then he decides to let wilson have a peaceful death. they plan to relive all their best memories together. when it looks like they might be separated for the last months of wilson’s life, house nearly kills himself. he can’t stand living without wilson. he thinks about all the people who’ve cared for him and all the possible happy endings that he could’ve had. he thinks about how he sabotaged them all, he never let himself be happy and he never did right by the people he loved. at the last minute, he decides to go against one of his core beliefs, that people can’t change. he decides that he’ll change, he’ll save himself for wilson. he’s never been about to do it for anyone before, but he does it for wilson. they quite literally ride into the sunset together.

in the early seasons, wilson is deeply denial about his relationship with house. he gets defensive and angry and scared when people make assumptions about their relationship. he only ever wants to be around house, but he also tries to distance himself. he slowly becomes more comfortable just being with house and very clearly loving him. he becomes more comfortable with casual intimacy and domesticity, when he had fiercely rejected before. he’s spent his life clinging to this idea of getting married to a woman and settling down. but he realises that he doesn’t need that, he just needs house.

house is always ready, he is always receptive to anything wilson gives him. throughout the show, he eggs wilson on, pushing the boundaries of their relationship. when it’s his last chance to be with wilson, house does what he thought was impossible.

they’re in love. they want to fuck so bad. they get their (sorta) happily ever after in the end. they change their souls for each other, they break out of the boxes that they’ve lived in, they break down the walls they’ve put up. they balance each other perfectly, they become better people when they’re together. they save themselves so they can save each other.

i’m gonna have a breakdown just thinking about it.

[undiscovered-horizon]

This might seem like an odd request, but I'm gathering up my courage to ask anyway.

Could you perhaps do a writing where the reader is a very good person, but has a horrific past.

Corinthian comes to her town, she sees him being a menace or maybe murdering someone, although she's very much afraid of him she thinks he needs a friend. The Corinthian *shocked at this behaviousr* ends up becoming friends with her after sometime and visits her every year until she passes away and every year, he leaves flowers on her grave. Perhaps he meets her grand daughter one day too?

Just a thought for a drabble, if you have time.

Meanwhile, I'll be nose deep in you masterpieces on the master list! 😍

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

Corinthian isn’t religious, so rituals of any sort are quite unfamiliar to him. Despite that, he does have a few of them, even if ‘rite’ is not necessarily the word he’d use, like the way he goes about his victims - the stalking, the loving, the carving. Or the way he’d visit this one grave every year.

The sunlight of early spring glides across the grey tombstone. The day is cool but the marker is probably warm to the touch. Lanky weeds grow around the grave, although they are not tall or dense enough to consider the memorial neglected. There are numerous lanterns placed around it. An enormous willow tree proudly stands not too far from the grave. Some of its long branches brush against the grey stone. In a place like this, one’s rest can truly be peaceful.

When people age, it’s a graceful statement of very vital information: they’re alive. Whatever tried to kill them was unsuccessful. Graves growing older, however, are the exact opposite: it’s a malicious cackle only becoming louder as the tombstone cracks and fades in the sunlight; a memory slowly fading away even if it's regularly recalled and relived.

Corinthian reads the line at the bottom of the gravestone over and over again: Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future*. Whether he wants to or not, he recalls the strange night he met you all those decades ago. Nothing about that fateful run-in suggested he’d become a prisoner to sentiments and melancholy: 

Hot blood is dripping down his hands. It’s refreshing, cleansing in some macabre way. Giving in to this urge is always just as sweet like finally scratching a patch of skin that has been terribly itchy for the past, well, forever. But the night is going to only become better: now that the thrill of the chase has come to a grand finish, comes the ravishing.

“Well, that was a little excessive,” you speak up.

The man in a cream-coloured jacket suddenly turns around to look at you. His sunglasses are halfway off his nose but he pushes them back up immediately as he stands up. “An uninvited guest!” Corinthian announces. “Wasn’t expecting one. I think I have some spare time if you want to,” here he flips the knife in his hand, yellow light of streetlamps cascades off the well-kept blade, “get to know each other.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you say with a giggle hiding in your voice. “Middle of the night, you’re killing some poor bastard you’ve never seen before behind a run-down motel, trying to act all tough. You have a knife, what did he have? Sweaty palms? Excerpt from the Bible tattooed on his wrist? It’s not scary, it’s pathetic. You don’t need another victim, you need a friend. Maybe a hobby, too.”

He’s standing maybe a meter or two away from you but you’re not bothered by that. You can’t be, not anymore. “It’s quite dangerous for a young lady like you to go around at night, asking strange men to be her friend. Has no one ever told you that?”

“>Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future<,” you quote. “I wonder what's yours.”

A curious smile suddenly appears on Corinthian’s face as though he realized that some things were about to change. It’s hard to say whether he knows how much he is going to change. “Feeling fearless, don’t you?”

“What can I say,” you answer with a disinterested shrug, your hands still shoved deep into the pockets of your coat, “I’ve seen worse. I’ve grown to know the terrors lurking in the dark a little too well to ever be scared of them again. Now come on, I can hear someone walking this way.”

A shy voice interrupts Corinthian’s melancholy. “Excuse me? You knew my grandmother?”

The girl looks to be in her early twenties or late teens if she’s living a stressful life. Judging by the messy hair and bags under her eyes, coming to the cemetery must have come with some hardships. She has a sweatshirt with a logo of a university embroidered on it. There seems to be an orange stain, some sauce without a doubt, on the hem of the pullover.

“Once. At least I’d like to think so.”

She looks at him suspiciously but not necessarily in a bad way - she can tell there’s something utterly exciting about his dishonesty. A thought passes through his head that, in some way, at that moment, she looks exactly like you did that fateful night. “But you look very… young, sir.”

“I eat my greens and use a good SPF.”

Understanding that Corinthian isn’t interested in small talk, she falls silent for now. The two of them are complete strangers suddenly united in grief, despite their respective mourning being so different. They’re together but still so very alone.

“I always liked that quote,” the girl speaks up after a few minutes. Maybe she’s looking for closure in friends of someone she is yet to learn to live without. “It’s very… hopeful. Anyone can be good, all it takes is the right decision. You can always change.”

“It’s a warning,” he states. 

The girl scrunches her nose and furrows her eyebrows. “How so?”

“Even the smallest, seemingly insignificant choice can change the direction you’re headed. You can never know what you’re going to become until you become it. And when you do… it’s already too late.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

Corinthian doesn’t answer straight away. For a moment he’s pondering that notion, slowly and painfully accepting that those decades he spent with you changed him forever. “Maybe I am,” he says in a slightly quieter voice.

_____________ *Line from Oscar Wilde’s A woman of no importance

[mintywolf]

A Long Road Home - Author Notes

Page 25

Oh no, I made the whole Bradbury family adorable. (I guess it’s hereditary.)

I’m not sure exactly how old they’re supposed to be; by the time she’s 20 they’re both described as looking “older” but that was after 5 years of Bad Times Whitestone under the Briarwoods. So I’d guess early-mid 30’s? Kinda late (for the setting) to have a toddler. I like the implied fairy-tale motif of a couple who wanted a child for a long time finally ending up with a really weird one.

Imogen and Matilda both had unusually lonely childhoods because, despite both growing up on a farm, they don’t have any siblings. With Imogen it’s explained by Liliana leaving when she’s still a baby and Relvin never remarrying (and since he’s described as in his mid-late 40’s with a 28-year-old daughter, they got married pretty early) but with Matilda I suppose either her parents either couldn’t have more children, or, after all the difficulty they had with her, didn’t want to risk any more. :/

Sooo . . . okay okay okay. If you’re familiar with the show you’ve probably figured out what’s going on here. (If you’re not, don’t worry, Imogen doesn’t know either so it still has to be explained to her as well as the audience. You’re not totally out of the loop here.) There have been a few hints along the way, and a few clever readers picked up on it in advance. (Gold star!)

After Episode 37 I got really excited about the possibility that Imogen coming into contact with Laudna’s soul in the little memory vignettes we see in the shadow realm might have changed, if not the actual past, the memories themselves. (Idk how many people remember this short comic I drew on the subject in between 37 and 38.) Episode 38 did confirm that they managed to influence at least one; she remembers feeling their presence when she was building Pâté, so that a little bit of all of them ended up in him. (Which, given this table, explains a lot about his personality.) But I think, though, that by “it rewrote that memory a little bit” she probably means her experience reliving it in the Domain of Dread and not the actual memory, because she says with them there “it didn’t feel so lonely that time,” so she still has the original memory.

I got really attached to the idea though, and as with my last comic I had kind of wanted to include a slight road-not-taken AU element, something just to the left of canon but within the bounds of possibility presented by it, so it’s not just a straightforward retelling. (Incidentally both twists involved the characters being bonded on a soul-deep level.) Here it’s that Laudna can remember Imogen, in what is still the future for her, meeting her in her past.

That throughout all the loneliest parts of her life she had the memory of this loving presence and a voice that had spoken to her with kindness and told her it was going to be okay. That when she awoke, terrified and alone, from death the first time it was with the memory of having been told, “when it starts to get scary, you just come find us. We’re gonna get you home.” That even in her 30+ years of wandering the earth being chased from hovel to hovel she knew that there was a home somewhere out there in someone who needed and loved her.

I just . . . have a lot of feelings about Episode 37.

It ended up fitting really well with another recurring theme I have planned/written for Laudna in this that will become more apparent as she continues to share her story with Imogen, in that she isn’t a totally reliable narrator, even when she’s letting her into her mind, and she has contrasting memories of why things are the way they are. (Did she, for example, name herself “Laudna” after gothic literature drug of choice laudanum, or because of what she used to sing to Pâté, or, a secret, third thing . . . because it’s what Imogen called her in the past?)

It also, narratively, gives her a reason to come to Marquet in the first place, and gives some direction to her three decades of wandering around. What she said a few pages ago about having been searching for Imogen her entire life wasn’t just romance novel-inspired sappiness. She has actually been searching for her for that long!! (That whole page is probably worth a reread now that you know the thing.)

There have been a few other dropped bread crumbs along the way, which a couple people noticed right from her first appearance when Imogen overhears her thinking that “it probably isn’t even the right town,” implying that she’s looking for one in particular. On the next page there’s also this panel, which, when unblurred by a concussion, looks like this:

Not that significant-looking but it’s also from Episode 37 (and which I only deploy for purposes of inflicting suffering, haha, it is uttered by a 1 hp Matilda in Remember Us too) when Imogen reaches out to Matilda’s mind for the last time and she reaches back in recognition to lay her hand up against hers on the other side of the window.

I think this particular Past Matilda encounter, chronologically the earliest, actually makes the best case for Imogen and the other Hells having reached through the veil somehow. All the other memories they see involve some notable event in her life — she’s creating Pâté, she’s being betrayed and having her heart broken by her first crush, she’s getting ready for the dinner party that’s about to change (and end) her life. But when they meet Matilda at age 3 (an age it’s rare to have many coherent memories of to begin with) she’s not doing anything but playing by herself in the barn. The most memorable thing about it is that it’s the first time she met Imogen.

Now, here’s the conversation from the show with Baby Tillie taking place in panel 1 of this page:

Imogen: Laudna? . . . Matilda? Are you there? Matilda: Yeah? Imogen: I want to find you and help. Can you show me the path? Matilda: I’m just playing by myself. Imogen: Where are you? Matilda: I’m playing in the barn. Imogen. The barn. Is that outside of town? Matilda: Usually. But not today. Imogen: Can you see the tree, honey? Matilda: No, the tree scares me. Imogen: What does the barn look like? Matilda: Well, it’s kind of red, and it’s tall. It’s got big doors on it. I’m up at the top of it. There’s a ladder you take, and I made some dolls. (Pause) Imogen: We’re coming up, honey. Orym: Hey, Matilda. Hey. Are you by yourself here? Imogen: Who are the dolls, honey? Matilda: They’re . . . I made a nice woman, and I made a bird that can take me away from here. Imogen: We can be that bird for you. We can take you away. Matilda: Where will we go? Imogen: Home. Somewhere safe. Is there . . . is there a mean woman around here? Matilda: Yeah. She won’t let me leave. Imogen: Have you seen her lately? Matilda: She’s sort of out that way. (points towards the tree) Ashton: Matilda? Can you tell me about this drawing? It’s interesting. What were you thinking? Matilda: That’s what’s beyond the city. That’s what everything is now. Imogen: Have you tried to leave? Matilda: The tree won’t let me. Orym: You’re going to come with us, Matilda. We’re gonna go. Would you like that? Matilda: The tree won’t let me. (discussion about escaping the barn) Imogen: Matilda, do you have a secret way out of here? (She disappears)

For when we see it again here (which we will eventually) I rewrote it a bit to fit onto a single comic page (and also so it seems less like Bells Hells is attempting to abduct a toddler haha D: ) but the emphasis is the same. She’s alone and scared in a nightmare place and a benevolent presence tells her, “Come home.”

The title of the comic probably makes more sense now. :)

(Kinda mad because I had “Imogen is Laudna’s home” as an overarching theme long before FRIDA slid into Imogen’s DMs with “home can be a person” and now it’s going to be in everything, ever but oh well! It’s been here since the title page.)

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Stand-up show I watched this week: Monty Python – Live at the Hollywood Bowl (1982)

It’s weird that I’d never seen this before, as I grew up with Flying Circus and the Monty Python movies. In 2015, I went to the cinema with my parents to see the Monty Python reunion live. When I was a teenager and went to England for two weeks, I saw Spamalot live and loved it. I think I tend to gloss over Flying Circus when remembering the British TV shows I watched over and over as a kid, but that was definitely in there, as were Holy Grail and Life of Brian and Now for Something Completely Different. My dad wouldn’t let me watch The Meaning of Life because it was too sexual, so I watched I on my own when I was 19 and was surprised that this got banned, given the other shit my dad let me watch. I’m pretty sure it was the Every Sperm is Sacred song that made me dad not let me see it as a young kid, which I guess is reasonable, or would be if there weren’t dick jokes in at least every couple of Flying Circus sketches as well.

I re-watched Flying Circus and the four movies in 2020, and it struck me that as a kid, I remembered and repeated and recited the best bits. I hadn’t realized before that there is quite a lot of filler in Flying Circus, definitely not every sketch was funny. And there was a fair bit of “funny for the time” humour. Not even because of the stuff being offensive (I mean, there was some of that, but let’s not get into that right now), but because it was a much simpler form of humour that’s been taking so much farther and in so many other directions since then. Stuff that was funny because it hadn’t been done before in the early seventies. There are a few Flying Circus sketches that I’m pretty sure would bomb my local open mic nights. But there are also a lot that were still absolutely hilarious today.

I tried, while I was watching their Hollywood Bowl recording for the first time, to imagine what it would be like if someone did one of those sketches at a new act competition somewhere in 2023. Would the judges instantly recognize it as the greatest work of genius in a generation and be shocked that some ordinary person could do something so funny? Or would it place, like, third? Or would it do badly – not because comedy has gotten better since then, but because the type of comedy that’s in fashion has changed, so it’s not unfunny but it’s just not what judges (or fans) look for these days.

Obviously this hypothetical scenario would have to exist in a world where Monty Python never happened (because otherwise all the judges would just say “You’ve plagiarized this”). But I don’t know if we can imagine how that would go, because if Monty Python never happened, maybe large parts of the comedy industry as a whole would have developed differently, and Python-esque stuff that seems overdone would actually seem fresh in that hypothetical 2023, because all those Python influencees wouldn’t have made that stuff over and over again in the intervening years. Or maybe that’s buying way too much into the Python mythos, the idea that no one on Earth except for these six absolute geniuses could possibly have ever worked out that men in frumpy dresses look funny (again, let’s not get into whether the Pepper Pots are misogynistic and/or transphobic right now).

Anyway, all that aside, whether they’re good because they influenced a generation or whether they could also objectively hold up today even without the mythos and nostalgia (personally, I think lots of what they’ve made holds up great… but definitely not every single sketch holds up), I do have nostalgia from growing up on Python and I enjoyed nostalgically reliving some of that. From childhood hours spent memorizing all the cheeses in the cheese shop so I could recite that whole sketch, to the time I took a philosophy course in university would sing the drunk Philosopher’s Song to myself and giggle during exams.

Incidentally, I recall thinking, when I was a kid, that the fact that they make lowbrow jokes about highbrow things like philosophy means they’re geniuses who are great intellectuals as well as comedians. Now, I see their sketches about philosophers the same way I see Bo Burnham’s poetry about William Shakespeare. It sounds like students learned some basic stuff in English class and then wrote a thing to make fun of it. The Pythons probably know exactly as much about ancient philosophers as I knew from that one university course I took that one time. But it’s still funny. Writing silly songs to puncture the importance of the highbrow stuff you’re taught in school is always funny.

During the Hollywood Bowl show, Graham Champman kept saying “skit”, which I found funny, because surely American audience members who have gone to a Monty Python show know what a sketch is. Or at least could work it out from context.

It’s especially funny because they picked that as the only British thing to translate into American for their audience, and that’s definitely not their most opaquely British thing. They did the Four Yorkshiremen sketch, which requires understanding of what regional accents means. When I was a kid, watching the Four Yorkshiremen sketch was actually the first time I learned about the concept of British regional accents. I remember watching it with my dad and he asked me if I noticed their voices were different, which of course I didn’t, because I didn’t learn to recognize Northern English accents until 2021. But my dad told me they were putting on accents from the North of England, and it’s funny because people from the North of England are more likely to be poor, so then when they grow up, they may talk about how poor they were, but exaggerate the extent of it. And from thence the humour arose.

(Let’s also not get into whether there’s something classist in a group of extremely successful people writing a sketch about how weird it is that all those Northerners reminisce about difficult childhoods, rather than reminiscing about growing up in private school and Oxbridge the way normal people do. But fun fact: The Four Yorkshireman sketch was inspired by a short story by Canadian writer Stephen Leacock. So I guess it isn’t entirely a British story that Americans cannot understand, because socioeconomic inequality exists everywhere, and exaggeration that escalates into absurdity is funny. Fun fact: My dad went to a school called Stephen Leacock Institute when he was a kid.)

It's also interesting to see Monty Python with a live audience, which I’d rarely seen before. A bit weird and at times annoying, the frequency with which they’d whoop and cheer. But I also find that interesting, just as a bit of history. Seeing how wild American crowds went for Monty Python in 1982. It’s interesting to see that Python was so big they transcended the rule that music fans want to hear the old stuff when they go to gigs, but comedy fans want to hear the new stuff. Monty Python wasn’t making new stuff at the time, but if they were, and had done it instead of their classics, I’m pretty sure this crowd would not have liked that. They were very happy to see the classics.

Oh! Here’s another thing I realized while watching it. I have seen that argument sketch so many times, it was one of my favourites when I was young. As kids, my brother and I used to recite it to each other. We’d get into real arguments that would devolve into quoting those characters. But in all that time, I never realized until today that the customer was right. This has nothing to do with comedy analysis or whatever, I’d just missed that part of the sketch before. I’d thought it was a story where a customer tries to get extra time for which he didn’t pay, when John Cleese says his time is up and he argues that it hasn’t been five minutes. But I realized on this watch that it hadn’t. I don’t think the whole sketch lasts five minutes, the argument certainly doesn’t. John Cleese is, in fact, scamming the customer by saying it’s been five minutes and he has to pay again.

So that's my main takeaway from that show. Americans in 1982 went really wild for Monty Python, and John Cleese was scamming the customer in the argument sketch. I've downloaded their 1998 live show too, I'll probably watch that soon and I'll let you all know if I learn anything else important.

[gianna-palazzolo]

BASIC INFORMATION:

Name: Giovanna Palazzolo. 

Nickname: Gianna to most. Gigi to her family and close friends. 

Birthday: July 24th.

Age: 32.

Gender: Female.

Place of Birth: London, United Kingdom.

Places Lived Since: Hereford, United Kingdom.

Current Residence: Camden, London, United Kingdom.

Nationality: British.

Parents: María Morelli (mother, originally from Naples), Giancarlo Palazzolo (father, originally from Agrigento)

Aunts & Uncles: Emilio Morelli (maternal uncle) 

Number of Siblings: Nine. Five brothers: Carlo, Marcello, Francesco, Roberto and Antonio. Four sisters: Chiara, Sofia, Laura and Caterina. Gianna is five out of ten, and was the first of her siblings to be born in London instead of Sicily. (For my reference, the order: Chiara, Carlo, Marcello, Francesco (dad’s prison time gap) Giovanna, Roberto, Sofia, Laura, Caterina, Antonio.)

Relationship With Family: Very good. Even though they sort of encouraged her to leave at an early age (hence her signing up for the army at sixteen) she never begrudged her parents that. There were a lot of kids living under the same roof, and it wasn’t always easy for them. They never went without love, but they sure went without a few luxuries that her friends at the time had, and whilst it might’ve been hard to deal with back then, she definitely looks back on her childhood now knowing how lucky she was to have what she did. She’ll take seeing her parents in a happy, loving marriage, spending as much time with their kids as possible over it all being substituted with material things... Gianna definitely prefers what she had. Was close to her father, in particular, and that remains the case to this day. There are ten siblings all together, and whilst she’s naturally closer to some than others, family is hugely important to all of them. There are no rifts, there’s no drama, no estranged siblings. They genuinely all get along when it matters (arguments and disagreements are always sorted quickly) and she’s fully aware she’s lucky to have that. All of the sisters are equally close, one hundred per cent inseparable no matter how far life takes them from each other, but of her brothers, the eldest, Carlo, is her absolute rock. Loves him to fucking death, and he’s for sure her best friend in the world. Marcello and Francesco have since moved back to Sicily to work for the Cosa Nostra, so she’s sees them the least. Doesn’t hold it against them, though. They’re still always there when it counts.

Happiest Memory: The trips they’d take to see her paternal grandparents in Sicily as a kid. They were few and far between because getting them all over there was a logistical nightmare, but she still visits whenever she can to relive those moments where her family was free of London for just a little while. Gianna loves London, and being British, but there’s always a part of her heart in Italy, for sure. They try to all get over there once a year, together, as a family, and apart from the times where work kept her away, they usually manage it. Her happiest memories will be her happiest yet to come, too.

Childhood Trauma: Not really. Though I’m sure finding out her family moved to London after her father did prison time for the mafia was an...unusual pill to swallow. He was very honest about it, though, and she appreciates that.

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5'11”

Weight: 140lbs.

Build: I mean. She’s built enough that you might question trying to fight her idk. Not insta fitness model style muscle mass but enough of it to get some looks at the gym. The abs, man. She works hard on those abs.

Hair Color: Brown.

Usual Hair Style: She wears it up in a ponytail specifically so she doesn’t have to do anything to it. Gianna cut her hair into a short bob whilst she was in the army, and was pretty excited to grow it out once she left, until she remembered that requires actual work to maintain. So yeah, usually up, because she’s lazy.

Eye Color: Dark brown.

Glasses? Contacts?: Neither.

Style of Dress/Typical Outfit(s): Big Gianna vibes here. Usually just blends in. Nothing too in your face, because she’s used to trying not to attract attention. 

Typical Style of Shoes: Flats. Anything as long as they’re flat. Can she walk in heels? Absolutely. Does she ever want to? No.

Jewellery? Tattoos? Piercings?: Wears a gold St. Christopher medal that her Nonna gave her at all times. Has three tattoos. One of Mary on her right forearm which can be found here. All of the Palazzolo sisters got matching ‘sorella’ tattoos, in different fonts, on their left arms, which can be found here. (Gianna’s is the middle one, pretend there are two others okay.) Had to get an underboob tat because she can, and it reads ‘be beautiful in your own way’ and can be found here. 

Scars: Many. Most that she will never discuss. 

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: None.

Athleticism: Very high. Marathon level runner. Sure not afraid of weight training at the gym, either, and could undoubtedly give some of the guys a run for their money. Keeping fit is a big part of her lifestyle because it’s pretty engrained into you in the military. Especially if you’re going to make it through SAS selection; she really went overboard on the being fit thing because it was the one variable she could really control. I think she had ideas about having a more laid back approach to it when she left, but it didn’t work out that way. It’s something she enjoys. Too much of a habit to shake. Actively trains in both boxing and Muay Thai. Loves playing football almost as much as watching it. 

Health Problems/Illnesses: Eh, she went through some pretty heavy shit whilst she was in the SAS, not going to lie. I imagine there’s a little PTSD going on, but nothing bad enough that she’s willing to confront it. Yet, anyway. Nothing physical, though. 

INTELLECT:

Level of Education: Rudimentary secondary school education. Signed up to the army before she ever got to sixth form to take her A-Levels. Look, she’s not super smart, but she’s not unintelligent, either. School just wasn’t for her. 

Languages Spoken: Italian and English natively. Spanish fluently. Intermediate French. Enough Russian to get by if she’s thrown into a conversation with one. God forbid.

Level of Self-Esteem: Healthy. I wouldn’t say she’s arrogant, but confident. Doesn’t beat down on herself like a lot of people. 

Gifts/Talents: Not really, as much as she wishes she did. Maybe if she’d had one, she wouldn’t have ended up in the military...

Mathematical?: Eh. Sort of, if she needs to be.

Makes Decisions Based Mostly On Emotions, or On Logic?: Logic. 

Life Philosophy: Family first.

Religious Stance: Roman Catholic. Though certainly not as staunchly as some of her family is, much to the disappointment of her mother. 

Cautious or Daring?: Daring. It’s in the motto...

Most Sensitive About/Vulnerable To: Oh, her family, without a doubt. If anything were to ever happen to them, she’d lose her mind. Apart from that, I don’t really think she’s sensitive to much at all?

Optimist or Pessimist?: Pessimist. Hard not to be in her shoes.

Extrovert or Introvert?: Mid-ground.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: Single.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual.

Past Relationships: Nothing with any real longevity until Jasper Menzies. They’d pretty much planned a life together until he decided, out of nowhere, that cheating on her with Lara Rutherford whilst she was deployed was a good enough reason to throw that all away. Broke her heart, honestly. She really did love him, in spite of the absolutely glaring differences in their starts in life.

Primary Reason For Being Broken Up With: I think career first was a problem for a lot of people who tried to date her. They didn’t like being second priority, which is fair enough. Gianna doesn’t blame them for that.

Primary Reasons For Breaking Up With People: Honestly, she can be kind of fussy. If the vibe isn’t there, she won’t stick around and waste her time. 

Ever Cheated?: No.

Been Cheated On: Yes. 

A Social Person?: Somewhere in the middle. Though she’s not introverted by any means, and is definitely comfortable around people. she also needs time to wind down. Some of her work took her away from her friends and family for extended periods of time. And then, sometimes as part of those deployments, for weeks on end, she’d only see the same handful of people. Gianna likes to be social, but she’s learnt to cope without. I think she’d changed a little since coming home.

Most Comfortable Around: Her family. Her former SAS squad. That’s it. Everyone else, thus far, she still has a little guard up.

Oldest Friend: Doesn’t really keep in touch with anyone pre-military. Hasn’t spoken to anyone from her school years since she left. Has a couple of girls she went through basic with that she still stays in touch with, though. 

How Does She Think Others Perceive Her?: I cannot tell you how much she doesn’t care enough to put any thought into this.

How Do Others Actually Perceive Her?: Not a clue. I guess she’s a bit of a difficult one to figure out because she doesn’t really share much. Gianna tries to be a nice person, though, so I don’t think people would view her negatively.

SECRETS:

Life Goals: Eh, she’s working on that. Doesn’t really know what the fuck she’s doing right now, because she’s still trying to transition back to (sort of?) normal life. For a really long time, her entire life was focused around succeeding in her career, and now that it’s gone, I guess she’s trying to find something else to focus on.

Dreams: Retiring to a vineyard in Sicily. That’s the whole dream. 

Greatest Fears: Gianna certainly fears failure, and that might be the only thing she’s ‘sensitive’ to apart from her family. Any of them getting hurt is a major fear, too, of course, but that goes without saying. 

Most Ashamed Of: Nothing. Genuinely. Gianna tries to live her life avoiding regret, because you can’t change the past. There’s no point dwelling on it. I think she’d prefer to focus on doing better than being ashamed, even if there was something that would meet that mark. Maybe crying over Jasper, because he’s trash af.

Secret Hobbies: Not being interesting.

Crimes Committed (Was she caught? Charged?): Hahaha. Is it illegal if you’re doing it for the government? No, then. I guess there’s plenty of time as she explores her work for the Sovrani to make up for that, though. 

DETAILS/QUIRKS:

Night Owl or Early Bird?: Early bird.

Light or Heavy Sleeper?: Somewhere in the middle. Leaning toward light.

Favorite Animal: Ferrets. They’re fucking chaotic and she loves it.

Favorite Foods: Sfogliatelle. Anything with Nutella on it ever. Sweet stuff, generally. Also seafood. All the seafood ever to have existed.

Least Favorite Food: Pesto. Worst Italian ever.

Favorite Book: The Foundation series by Asimov.

Favorite Movie: The Matrix.

Favorite Song: Time of the Season - The Zombies. 

Favorite Sport: Football! This girl supports Roma like no other.

Coffee or Tea?: Coffee. Espresso with one sugar.

Crunchy or Smooth Peanut Butter?: Neither. 

Type of Car She Drives: Driving? In London? Pass.

Lefty or Righty?: Righty.

Favorite Color: Pink.

Cusser?: Not often. Gianna prefers not to, but sometimes they slip out if she’s particularly mad or upset with somebody. Never around her parents, though. That’ll earn a good clip around the ear. 

Smoker? Drinker? Drug User?: No to smoking. Drinks very regularly, in true British fashion. Never used any drugs, and never will, grazie.

Biggest Regret: Answering this question earlier.

Pets: Three moon jellyfish that she never actually named because she can’t pretend to tell the difference between them. But she loves them, though. Adores them. Never really had pets whilst she was in the army because of how long she had to be away from home at a time, but I think she’d like a dog one day if she can ever afford her own place. It might be a nice change for her, and she had one growing up.

[starfletcher]

DISCLAIMERS ! 

this  is  my  gal  star  ,  she’s  kind  of  a  trash  person  but  it’s  in  her  dna  :/  in  general  ,  this  contains  possibly  triggering  information  surrounding  the  DEATH  OF  A  LOVED  ONE  and  the  going  ons  of  the  industry  but  nothing  too  in  detail  .  some  suggestions  of  SEXUAL  HARASSMENT  .  

BASICS.

FULL NAME: star katelyn fletcher

BIRTH DATE: april 18th, 1998

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single

FAMILY MAKEUP: rod fletcher (deceased), mary-sue fletcher (44), laken fletcher (24)

POSITIVE TRAITS: confident, passionate, sociable, accepting, interesting, vibrant, exciting, fun, affectionate, honest, brave.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: unstable, impatient, irrational, delusional, paranoid, self-centred, careless, obsessive, inconsiderate, unreliable, tactless.

BACKGROUND.

star fletcher had the unfortunate luck of being the first born daughter of MARY-SUE FLETCHER , although her twin brother LAKE only followed a few minutes behind . from birth , they were raised as more of a brand than anything else and their mother had a constant infatuation with the limelight . she was obsessed with her twins and wanted them to be the next big thing to the extent that it was pretty much the only option … where as their father , ROD , sat back and watched the chaos unfold never saying much .

it became apparent by the time the twins were five or six that they did actually have some talent for acting and dancing and their mother insisted that they be partners for their entire dancing career . they did have some early success that made a pretty penny … which MARY-SUE rubbed together with glee ! 

the twins were forced to be partners in their career for the longest time , their mother also butting in at any opportunity . STAR and LAKE didn’t have a life unless it was the one that she managed for them but they worked hard to earn her favour because although their father was very loving , he simply had no concept of the industry they were up against . it was a fletchers vs the world war in their mothers opinion . 

TW DEATH . just as they broke through in the acting world landing a spot on a show at the age of twelve , their father passed away in a shocking industrial accident . this should have been the tragic part but what happened next shocked the twins as much as the rest of the world ; three weeks after her fathers death , star would find out through tabloid magazines that her and her brother were reportedly the love children of a FAMOUS AND EXTREMELY MARRIED ACTOR . this fractured her family forever . 

while it might have been negative attention , eventually it seemed to pan out in even stranger results … star and lake were not happy with their mother but MARY-SUE loved the attention . she was finally in the middle of things again reliving her youth . a dna test confirmed their identities as the biological child of redacted & they now had a nice little trust fund behind them . 

still , STAR continued in the industry as the rumours swirled down in her late teens and her mother encouraged her to be flirtatious to get what she wanted . she had no self preservation techniques , she didn’t mind being a villain or a nice girl as long as it pleased her mother when she got screen time - the personal brand was a nightmare and it was a matter of years before the FLETCHER FAMILY was more of a train wreck than anything else . 

LAKE turned back to dancing and moved to new york city swearing that they should never talk to their mother again but star just couldn’t resist the sirens call whenever she turned up on set . her mother had a way of reminding her of all the things she was lacking , making her feel like she needed her … because mommy always knows best . 

CONNECTIONS ( npc plots ) . 

LAKE. twin brother , a close relationship although they’re not the most helpful to each other at times . 

MADDOX. ex - boyfriend , a relationship of convenience that went up in flames when maddox drove their car off the road intoxicated . star still believes she was the negative influence that took him back under .

[btsmfanfics]

The Choreographer -- Pt. 12

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader (With some Jimin X reader and Yoongi X Reader, but mostly JK). 

Rating: Explicit (not so much in this chapter, but in others) 

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of past drug use, mentions of past threesomes, mentions of past sexual assault. 

Summary: You were the assistant choreographer for BTS tasked with taking over for the lead while on tour. You'd sacrificed everything for this job, and you didn't want to risk it, but the temptation has proved to be too sweet.

Now you have to juggle the social, physical, and emotional consequences of your affairs. Jealousy between the members, social isolation, and potential feelings? No, that last one was not something you'd allow. You already had enough on your plate. You had to squash that down.

But feelings demand to be felt. And you cannot run away forever.

---OR---

How I dumped all my trauma into a single fanfic.

Masterlist is here 

_______

A/N: I promise the chapter after this won’t be so heavy. I’m going to add in a lighter and fluffier filler chapter for a nice break before we get back into the heavy stuff. It’s nearing the end of the story now. I can’t believe we’ve come this far. This has been three years in the making.  THIS IS ANOTHER SAD ONE. Please, please, please do not read this if you aren’t in a great place mentally. I don’t think absorbing more sadness will help. We relive some of her past trauma in this one and it doesn’t necessarily end on a positive note.  This character will be happy again soon, I promise. 

_________________________________________

Chapter 12: 

The numbness carried over to the next morning, when you arose to a sun that was far too bright and skies that were much too clear.

You had to face him again today. You didn’t know if you could.

The temptation to leave had reached a crescendo last night. This level of moral perfection was too much to ask of anyone. You’d had rough nights before, but this was getting to be too much. How much more would you have to give to this company? You barely had anything left.

You’d sacrificed far too much to be here, though. You couldn’t let that be in vain.

You arrived at the venue early. Jia was already there, setting up her station.

She took one look at you and rushed over to wrap you up in a hug.

“Are you okay?” she asked. You buried your face in her shoulder. “What happened?”

You shook your head against her collar, unable to form words. Tears threatened to spill over at her kindness. One of them actually did.

You sat in Jia’s makeup chair while she brushed your hair for you and did her best to conceal the dark circles under your puffy, red eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to kick someone’s ass?” she asked.

You gave her the closest thing to a smile you could muster. “Thanks, Ji. That would be great.”  

She seemed satisfied enough with your answer to drop the subject. She didn’t even ask who. She didn’t need to.

It was a while before the guys all strolled into the makeup room. When they did, you immediately faced forward and averted your eyes. You couldn’t chance looking at him.

Yoongi made a beeline over to where you and Jia were setting up.

“What happened to you?” he asked, loud and brash as he always was.

“Real nice,” Jia spat.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” you said and got up so he could sit in the makeup chair. He plopped down as Jia began arranging her brushes on the counter before him.

“If it makes you feel any better, I had a shit night too,” he said.

“I can see that,” said Jia as she began to dip a brush into a palette. “How many sets of dark circles am I going to have to cover today?”

“Why’s that?” you asked him.

“I got an email from the label. They’re pushing the release date back another month for my mixtape.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were.”

“How can they keep doing this to you?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Beats me,” he said. “There’s nothing I can do about it though. They have the final say.”

“That sucks, Yoongs,” said Jia. “I’m really sorry.”

“You told them about the mixtape?” Hoseok asked, walking up to where the three of you were conversing. “Bullshit, isn’t it?”  

Jia nodded.

Your heart sank. Yoongi had been working so hard on that mixtape. You sensed that he was losing hope. You would too if the thing you really wanted kept getting dangled in front of you, only to be snatched away again and again.

In a way, you supposed that’s exactly what had happened to you.

You chanced a look over at Jungkook. He was joking around with Jin, all smiles and laughter.  

“Someone looks like they’re in a good mood,” you muttered to Jia.

“Oh Jungkook?” said Hoseok. “Yeah, I’d be too if I’d gotten head from Yeona last night.”

The brush Jia had been holding clattered to the floor. “Sorry,” she squeaked and ducked down to retrieve it. In the mirror, Yoongi’s eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Oh?” you asked, throat seizing up.

“Yeah,” said Hoseok. “She’s been after him since the beginning of the tour. Good thing, too, because he definitely needed it. He’s been unbearable lately.”

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Oh.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised it took him as long as it did to taker her up on it. I know I wouldn’t have held out that long. Have you seen the body on that woman?”

Yoongi winced. “Hoseok,” he hissed exasperatedly, “shut the fuck up.”

Hoseok’s brows knitted together as he gaped at Yoongi.  The silence between the four of you grew painfully awkward.

“Hey, so did Hanyuel tell you that he’s planning a massive party while we’re in Japan?” Jia cut in. It came out a little louder and faster than normal. Yoongi continued to watch you intently while Hoseok, still looking puzzled, merely shrugged and shifted his focus to Jia.

“That’s awesome,” you breathed, feigning excitement while your insides turned to liquid. You dug your nails into your palms and gritted your teeth to keep your cool until you could get out of there.

“Yeah,” it should be a lot of fun,” she replied. You took a step backwards. Then another.

“Do you think he’ll rent out a movie theater again like he did last year?” Hoseok asked, unaware of the devastating blow he’d delivered only moments ago.

“I don’t know,” answered Jia. “He was talking about go-karts last I knew.” She said this while still watching you over Hoseok’s shoulder. You wanted to tell her you were fine, but you’d be lying. Her face grew more and more concerned as Hoseok’s words blended into the environment. You crossed your arms tightly in front of you, holding your ribcage together.  

You were okay. You’d be fine. You knew this was a possibility. Jungkook was just trying to get his needs met.

Isn’t that what all of you were doing? Just trying to get your needs met? How could you fault him for that?

Your stomach lurched. You needed to get out of there.

“I should probably get out of your way,” you said, more people trickling into the room. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

You didn’t even think Hoseok heard you. He was still talking excitedly to the room about the party. Jia and Yoongi watched as you backed away, turned, and rushed out the door.

Turning right, you worked hard to steady your breath as you searched for anything that would do.

You passed several locked doors along the mostly-empty hallway, offices of stadium managers, locker rooms, and storage areas. It stretched on and on. It felt like it would never end. Like the walls were closing in. You quickened your pace.

You found an unlocked supply closet and wrenched the door open, darted inside and, trying to not draw any more attention to you, shut it as softly as you could. Shelves of various cleaning products and cans of paint lined the small area. Several brooms leaned haphazardly against the wall. A large automated floor scrubber took up most of the space, and in the corner sat a lone empty bucket.  

You shook your hands, trying to rid yourself of excess anxious energy.  

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You hummed through the exhale, trying to regulate your breath as tears spilled down.

This was okay. You’d be okay. You knew this could happen. Jungkook didn’t owe you any loyalty, especially after last night.

Scanning the room, you found an empty mop bucket. As quickly and silently as you could, you flipped it over and sat down on it, clutching your chest while you rocked back and forth.

You were okay. You didn’t need him. It was fine. He could be with other women. He could be with Yeona and her amazing body.

You noticed your breath hitching on the intake. You pursed your lips to slow down your exhale and keep yourself from hyperventilating. Your eyes stung. You tapped your chest with your hands, fighting to stay in control.

The air inside the closet was thick and warm. It weighed down your chest, making it difficult to fill your lungs.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You bit down on your knuckles to muffle the strangled noises now escaping from your throat.

You were spiraling.

The door swung open, startling you. Yoongi peered around it.

“Shit,” he said, closing the door behind him and making his way past the scrubber. He knelt beside you and took your hand in his. “You okay?”

You nodded, bouncing a leg up and down, continuing to rock back in forth. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

The tears continued to pour out. Hot and wet against your cheeks, they slid cleanly down your face and collected at your chin before falling onto your hoodie in fat drops.  

“I know that must have been rough to hear,” he said, thumb stroking over yours. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head no, continuing to stare straight ahead, jaw clenched tight.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked. You nodded.

“Okay.”

He sat down on the floor next to you—his presence calming you down enough for you to process.

As much as you couldn’t fault Jungkook for taking care of his needs, you weren’t prepared for this.

It was just sex, you reminded yourself. It’s not like he had feelings for her. And he had come to you first.

“You know,” said Yoongi softly, “when I first heard the news that my mixtape was delayed again, I threw my phone across the room.”

You looked not quite at him, but your eyes moved slightly in his direction.

“I think I dented the wall. Some poor underpaid maintenance guy is going to have to fix it,” he said.

You didn’t quite laugh, but you exhaled through your nostrils a little faster than normal, knee still bouncing up and down rapidly.

“And that’s not even the worst part,” he continued. “My screen shattered because I was too lazy to buy a screen protector.”

You wouldn’t necessarily agree that him not being able to see his texts was worse than an underpaid maintenance guy having to fix the aftermath of Yoongi’s tantrum, but you didn’t voice that.

“Where are you going with this?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi said. “Just thought you might find it amusing.”

“My deepest condolences for your screen,” you said, flatly.

“Yes, I am suffering more than anyone else in this world, thank you for noticing,” he said.

At that, you managed a chuckle.

“I know you’re going through a tough time right now,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” you said, offering up a small smile. “I’m sorry for you, too. I know how much you had your heart set on a spring release.”

“Ahh,” he said. “I’ll be okay. I might just have to write a really angsty track and include it, now that I have the time.” “I hope you do,” you said.

“You going to be okay?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “I’d like to think so, but I’m not even sure how I feel.”

“I understand,” he said. “Truly. It’s okay to not be entirely sure. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

“Will I?” you asked.

“Yes. And even if you don’t, that’s okay too.”

A knock sounded and the door opened. You didn’t bother looking up to see who it was.

“How is she?” you heard Jia ask.

“She’s okay. I’ve got her,” he said.

“Thirty minutes until the run-through,” she said. “You’ve still got to get your makeup touched up, Yoongi.”

“Okay thanks,” he said, taking out his cell phone. “Do you think you can make it through rehearsals? If not, I can call one of our drivers to come get you. Hoseok and I can lead the run-through.”

“You, lead a run-through?” you asked. “You hate dancing.”  

“Can’t you let someone do something nice for you without sarcasm?”

“Sorry,” you said immediately. “Yes, that would be nice.”

Yoongi turned back to his phone, but flicked his eyes back up. “Jackass,” he muttered under his breath. A smile played at the corner of his mouth. His eyes screwed up in concentration. You looked down and saw that his phone screen was indeed brutally shattered.

The short drive to the hotel passed by in a blur. You probably could have walked, but it was nice to have someone drive you.

Once in your hotel, you threw yourself back on to the bed and stared at the ceiling. When that didn’t work, you rolled over and screamed into your pillow. After that, you tried punching it several times in your rage. Over and over again, you slammed your fists into the soft down, finally picking it up and throwing it across the room. It hit the beige wall beside your bed and fell to the floor with an unsatisfying plop.

And when that didn’t work, you rolled off the bed and slid onto the floor to join it.

That worked. The floor was exactly where you were meant to be at that moment. You knew for a fact.

You ran your fingers over the rough material of the carpet. It was scratchy. For as nice of a hotel as it was, they sure didn’t break the budget for their carpeting.

“They probably figured their guests wouldn’t be the floor-dwelling type,” you muttered aloud.

Fuck.

Jungkook and Yeona.

You tiled your head backwards on the carpet, hair bunching under your skull, and looked back at the nightstand, observing how odd it appeared from this perspective.

What even was your life right now?

Were you okay? Really?

Yes, you supposed you were. But you weren’t sure how much more you could take after this. You weren’t happy with the level of work you’d been performing. You could feel your energy steadily going downhill, and you hated doing a sub-par job. It wasn’t fair to you or the company.

But you couldn’t exactly quit right now. There was nobody to replace you. A sub-par job would have to do, because you definitely didn’t have the energy to do a thorough one.

That was probably the only concession you could take. The guys were pretty capable of handling themselves. There wasn’t much you had to do by that point anyway. They’d hit their stride and were making far fewer mistakes than they’d made at the start of the tour.

You heaved another sigh.

If you had any sense, you’d quit. You probably should have given your two-weeks notice two weeks ago.

If it weren’t for the damn promise you made, you’d be long gone.

You thought back to Son and wondered how he was doing.

It can’t be easy losing a parent slowly like that. Not one as kind and loving as his.

You flipped on to your side and tucked your arm under your head. As much as you’d like to empathize with Son right now, you had to reserve your empathy for yourself.

What were you going to do?

“Nothing,” you said to the empty room.

You were going to do nothing. There was nothing you could do, anyway. You didn’t have the energy.

You stayed that way, laying on the floor in various positions for most of the night until you couldn’t stand it anymore and had to move.

You only got as far as the bed, however. And with nothing left to do, you turned the TV to a random channel, and dissociated in front of it for the next few hours. You ordered room service again, treating yourself to more than one dish, because that was about all you could do to console yourself at the moment.

Even then, you didn’t have much of an appetite and had to force yourself to eat.

This had to be the worst you’d felt on the tour. Possibly the worst you’d felt since you were still living at home with your narcissistic parents.

You thought you’d escaped these feelings when you left. You thought you wouldn’t have to deal with shit like this anymore once you got out. That your internship had saved you from ever having to feel this trapped in your own life.

You’d worked so hard to be here. Done things you were so, so proud of, as well as things you weren’t.

And for what? To be locked away in a lonely hotel room? Isolated from everyone? No support system outside of work? No life outside of work?

Was this really what you wanted for your life?

At first, it had been. The prestige that came with being a choreographer for a massively successful group made you feel like it was worth the effort. All the pain and hardship and struggles you’d endured. But prestige was only so rewarding after a while.

You thought back to your dream of opening your own studio one day. A dream that you’d pocketed as soon as you’d gotten this gig.

Did you make a mistake accepting this job? Should you have followed through with your original plan and opened your own studio? It would have been difficult, but would you be any better off?

You decided not to follow that train of thought, knowing it would only lead to feelings of regret. You couldn’t handle those on top of everything else. Not right now.

______________

It was approaching midnight when a knock sounded at your door.

You looked out the peep hole before answering. Yoongi was there, holding a bottle of liquor.

“Password?” you asked.

“Eat my ass,” he said. You chuckled and opened the door for him to enter.

His hair was damp and he smelled strongly of hotel soap.

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said, entering your room. “I had to shower and eat.”

He slipped his shoes off and made his way over to the desk, where he found two glasses. He wasted no time pouring two fingers of liquor in each glass, turning to you only when he was ready to hand you one.

You took it gratefully and clinked your glassware with his.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked.

You shrugged, “I’m about here,” you said, gesturing over to the mess of plates piled up on the nightstand next to your bed. “How was the show?”

“It was fine. Jungkook kept his head down. I think he knew he was the reason you weren’t at rehearsal today.”

“And the others?”

“I just told them you weren’t feeling well and needed to rest. They seemed understanding.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a sip of the liquor.

“Thanks,” you said. He peered over the glass still touching his lips. He must have sensed your earnestness because he swallowed thickly as he brought the glass back down to his side.

“Drink,” he said, letting his gaze drop from yours to the glass in your hand.

You followed his lead, sipping on the amber liquid. It stung your mouth. You weren’t used to drinking straight liquor unless it was in the form of a shot and you had a chaser.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as you meandered back over to the bed.

You shook your head and took another sip.

“Fair enough,” he said, sitting at the opposite end of the bed and facing you. “For what it’s worth, Hoseok’s an idiot.”

You snorted, because as well-meaning as he was, Hoseok really could be an idiot sometimes.

“He really has no idea when to keep his mouth shut, does he?”

Yoongi’s eyes crinkled, and he flashed that gummy smile. It was infectious.

“In Hoseok’s defense, he didn’t know anything about you and Jungkook,” Yoongi said.

Your face fell once again at the mention of his name. “No, I suppose he didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” said Yoongi. “You said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“No, it’s probably good to talk about it a little.” “What exactly happened between the two of you?” Yoongi asked seriously. “All I know is that you two had been involved, but then you weren’t, but then maybe you were again? I’m not sure.” Yoongi trailed off.

You took a deep breath.

“He came to my room last night.”

“What?” Yoongi interjected. “What did he want?”

You stayed silent, partially because it was hard to relive, but also because you figured Yoongi could infer it, which he did after a few quiet moments.

“Ah,” he said. “And I’m guessing you turned him down.”

You nodded.

“Which is why he then…,” he tactfully decided not to finish the thought and instead winced. “Yikes.”

You sipped your drink.

“That sucks,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes and exhaled through your nose, trying to expel the anger that had once again risen up.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

You raised your glass and jiggled it a bit. “This is helping.”

He scooted closer to you, hugging your calves and resting his chin on your bent knee.

You pressed your toes into his outer thigh and wiggled them affectionately.  

He pressed his lips to your knee. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

You held eye contact with him, and from the look on his face, you knew he could see the grief on yours. You shared a quiet moment of understanding, aware that he, too, probably often wondered whether or not he’d made the right choice in coming here.

He squeezed the back of your calf, letting you know in his own way that he was here for you. You had half a mind to say ‘fuck the rules’ and plant your lips onto his, but you knew it would be putting a band-aid over a broken arm at best.

Besides, you couldn’t turn Jungkook down and then immediately hook up with Yoongi the next day. Even if Yoongi would be healthier for you, it would make you just as bad as Jungkook, if not worse. And you were tired of self-destruction.

Yoongi stared at your thigh, the grip he had on the back of your calf tightened infinitesimally and you got the sense he was thinking the same thing.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and you felt your resolve waver. You had a feeling that even if you did make this mistake, you’d somehow find it in you to forgive yourself.

You shifted the slightest bit closer to him when there was another knock on the door.

Your heart jumped to your throat and you and Yoongi both moved away from one another.

It was just as well. Best not to poke the bear.

“Coming,” you called, tearing your eyes away from Yoongi. You got off the bed to answer, this time forgetting to check the peep hole and just answering. It was Jia.

“Hey,” she said, marching past you and into your room, two bottles of wine and two wine glasses clutched in her hands. She took one look at Yoongi, who was straightening the legs of his dark jeans nervously, and glanced back to you. “I see someone already beat me here.”

“He wanted to see if I was okay.”

She nodded, “Sure.”

You could tell she didn’t quite believe you but chose to hold her tongue. She was right not to. If she hadn’t shown up, you couldn’t honestly say with complete certainty that nothing would have happened.  

“So, I was thinking maybe you could use some company to get your mind off things. Anyone up for a drinking game?” she asked.

You looked back at Yoongi and he shrugged. “Why not?”

“Okay,” she said, pouring herself a glass of wine. “It’s like ‘put a finger down’ except it’s ‘take a drink if’. We’ll go around the room. I’ll start.”

She took a drink. You narrowed your eyes. “I thought you weren’t supposed to drink unti—,”

“—Take a drink if you’ve ever fucked on a boat.”

After a few moments without any movement, Jia took a drink.

“When was that?” you asked.

“I had this rich friend in college who liked to have yacht parties,” she said with a shrug and offered no further explanation. “Your turn.” She gestured at Yoongi.

“Okay, uhhhh…,” he said, looking off to a corner of the room. “Let’s see. Put a finger, I mean take a drink if you’ve ever done coke.”

You and Jia both sipped. Yoongi looked at you incredulously. “Once,” you said.

“How was it?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Meh.”

“She’s lying, it’s awesome,” said Jia.

Jia could think that if she wanted. It probably was awesome for her. For you, it just made you paranoid that you were about to have a heart attack and unable to shut your brain off. You were perfectly fine never touching the stuff again.

“Okay, take a drink if…,” you trailed off, trying to think of something. “If you’ve ever flashed anyone in public.”

Both Jia and Yoongi took a sip. You expected this from Jia, but you were surprised by Yoongi’s confession.

“Back when I was in high school. My friends and I were driving around downtown Daegu and I pressed my bare ass against the car window at a traffic stop.”

You snickered.

“Mine was for free drinks at a bar one night during last year’s tour.”

“That sounds like you,” you said. She grinned, holding up her drink in cheers before taking another sip.

“Worked like a charm.”

Yoongi snickered.

“Your turn,” Jia said to you.

You thought for a moment.

“Take a drink if…,” you trailed off, “…if you’ve ever been arrested.”

Jia sipped from her drink. “Shoplifting once when I was eighteen,” she said, with no further explanation.

You continued to go around in a circle, taking drinks here and there for things like getting black-out drunk, hooking up with a stranger, skinny dipping (that one, Yoongi had given on purpose, knowing full well what you and Jia had done in LA).

“Okay, my turn,” you said. “Take a drink if you’ve ever had a threesome, and no that one doesn’t count,” you said, as Jia opened her mouth to speak. She quieted and took a drink.

You weren’t surprised, considering how she and Taehyung had been so casual about it with you. You’d pretty much forgiven her by that point and it was water under the bridge for the most part. At least with her. You and Taehyung still weren’t speaking very much.

You were, however, surprised when Yoongi did the same.

“No way,” you said. He simply nodded.

“What was the dynamic?” Jia asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it two girls, or two guys…or three guys?” she asked.

Yoongi scoffed. “It was with two guys.”

“Ooooh,” she said. “Interesting. How was it?”

“It was good,” he said, and left it at that.

“What about you?” you asked, turning to Jia.

“I’ve had several threesomes. Usually with another woman, though I’ve been to the Eiffel Tower on a few occasions, if you know what I mean.”

Yoongi smirked.

“My ex-girlfriend and I used to invite men into the bedroom pretty often, actually.”

“I didn’t know you dated women,” you commented.

“Oh yeah. I actually prefer women, but every once in a while, I’ll have the misfortune of falling for a man.”

Yoongi snorted. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Did your ex also like men?” you asked.

“Yeah. I’m bisexual. She was pan. She liked men a little more than I did. We really enjoyed exploring different aspects of our sexuality together. We didn’t like the idea that we had to close off those sides of ourselves just because we were in a relationship.”

“Did you ever get jealous?” you asked.

“Of course,” she said. “You can’t avoid feeling jealous sometimes. It’s natural. You just have to work on managing those feelings. I wasn’t very good at first. I still sometimes struggle with it, but I’ve gotten a lot better.”

“I get that,” Yoongi chimed in. “I’ve struggled with it in the past.”

“How did you handle it?” she asked.

“I had to work on building trust. Not just with the other person, but with myself.”

“Oh?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “It was way back before I had even joined the group. I was in a long-distance relationship with a girl. Those kinds of things often lead to jealousy, especially because she had a lot of guy friends.

“With something like that, you learn pretty quickly that you can’t control the other person. Trying to just pushes them away.”

You thought back to how you had immediately run to Jimin as soon as Jungkook had exhibited the first sign of jealousy.

“You have to come to terms with your fear of getting hurt. Trust that if they really love you, they’ll do their best not to hurt you, and if they don’t, you have to trust yourself to be able to handle that pain.”

“How did it turn out?” you asked.

“She cheated on me.”

“Are you serious?” Jia asked.

Yoongi shrugged. “I survived,” he said. “I won’t say I didn’t develop some major trust issues for a while after that, but I’ve let it go for the most part. Long distance is really hard. Neither one of us was getting our needs met. Some people can make it work, but we just couldn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said.

“I was mad at her for not communicating how unhappy she was to me at the time, but to be honest, I could tell she wasn’t happy, and I didn’t really do anything about it. I wasn’t happy either. In my own ways, I was selfish. I definitely wasn’t the perfect boyfriend, so it was unfair of me to expect that of her. Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“Do you ever regret trusting her?” Jia asked.

Yoongi paused to consider the question.

“No,” he said. “Because what’s the alternative? Not trust her and demand to know her whereabouts all the time? Constantly accuse her of stuff? That would have only pushed her away faster and would have made me an even bigger asshole than I already was. I mean yeah, I got hurt. But I’d rather be the one getting hurt than the one needlessly hurting someone else because of my own trust issues.”

You frowned. You could have used that wisdom earlier on. You and Jungkook had both hurt each other because of your own trust issues—more than once. How might things have played out if you both approached it from Yoongi’s perspective? Would you be together?

Unlikely, given your jobs, but it still would have turned out better than what you were dealing with now.

“Okay my turn,” Jia said. “Take a drink if you’ve ever had sex in exchange for something.”

Your stomach dropped. You waited for either Yoongi or Jia move, and when neither of them did, you hesitated.

Did you really want to spill your darkest moments?

It was only fair. Both Yoongi and Jia had volunteered very personal information. After what Yoongi had said about trust, it seemed like the right move.

It was time to tell someone what had happened.

You sucked in a breath and bit the bullet.

You took a drink.

“No way,” Jia gasped.

“Can I ask what happened?” said Yoongi.

You nodded, but paused for a few more moments to consider just how much information you really wanted to divulge.

“I slept with my college professor to get an internship with Son.”

Jia’s mouth fell open. “No way,” she said.

You nodded.

There. It was out in the open. You refrained from going into much detail about it, still not sure if you even wanted to revisit those memories in front of the two of them, but you were glad you had finally said it.

“No offense, but I never would have suspected you to be the type,” Jia said. Yoongi stayed silent.

“Well, I guess I am.”

“Shit. Do you regret it?” she asked.

You shrugged. You didn’t see the point in thinking about whether or not you regretted it. It was in the past. There was nothing you could do to take it back.

The game went on for a few more rounds before Jia yawned. It was nearing two in the morning by that point.

“I’m going to head out,” she said. “I have an early schedule tomorrow. The stylists are all meeting to discuss some changes they want to make to the looks.”

“Thanks for coming over,” you said. “I really needed this.”

She raised her arms above her head in a cat stretch and then gave you a hug. “Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I could do.” Then she turned to Yoongi. “You coming?”

He looked at his glass, which still held a few sips of whiskey.

“You go ahead. I’m going to hang back for a bit,” he said. “Still working on my drink.”

She fixed the two of you with a skeptical glare.

“We’ll behave, I promise,” you assured her.

“Okay. See that you do. I don’t want any more drama in my life right now. No more drunken hookups. No more jealousy. Nothing.”

“Promise,” Yoongi said.

She surveyed you once again before nodding and making her exit.

Yoongi scooted closer to you on the bed. You rested your head on his shoulder, glad for some non-sexual physical intimacy.

“So,” you said. “A threesome? With two men?”

“Indeed,” he said with a small chuckle. “With Jimin, actually.”

“What?” you asked, lifting your head off his shoulder and turning to face him.

He tucked his lips between his teeth and nodded. “He would kill me if he knew I told you though, so don’t say anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked. You were in shock. Jimin and Yoongi in a threesome? You never in a million years would have suspected.

“It never came up. Besides, I’m not one to brag about my sexual exploits unprovoked,” he said.

“How was it?” you asked.

He chuckled to himself for a few moments, amused with how enthralled you seemed.

“It was a long time ago, before we had really made it big in the US. The group was on a month-long break after we’d gotten back from our first tour. Jimin and I had gone out to a nightclub in Busan with a few of our friends.

“There was this this one woman, who I think Jimin had known for a while. They’d fucked a few times before. He knew I was in a bit of a dry spell. I was dealing with some major writer’s block when it came to my music and had been feeling down and out for weeks by that point, so he convinced me to come out.

“She started flirting with me about halfway through the evening. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but in the cab on the way to the next bar, she started making out with me.”

He looked right at you as he spoke.

“Mind you, it had been so long since I’d had any sort of action, so my self-control had gone out the window as soon as she started kissing me.”

“Wow,” you said. “Was this in front of Jimin? Was he upset?”

“I think he was the one who put her up to it, to tell you the truth. Not that she wasn’t already interested. The three of us went back to his hotel room for an after party, but things started heating up once the others had left. We ended up with her sucking me off while Jimin fucked her.”

“Shit,” you said, sounding rather impressed.

Yoongi nodded.

“I thought it would be awkward, but honestly, it kind of brought us closer together. We crossed into new territory that night, and it forced us to have clear and open communication with one another. That’s the only way you can stay good friends after something like that happens. You grow as a person.”

You understood, then, why Yoongi had been so concerned for Jimin’s feelings that night in LA when he had turned you down, and why he was so insistent upon boundaries. You’d learned that lesson for yourself over the last few weeks. At the time, it had made you upset, but you’d developed a newfound respect for the rapper.

“And what about you?” he said.

“What about me?”

“Fucking your professor for an internship?”

You tensed.

“I’m guessing there’s more to that story.”

You nodded, taking a beat to figure out where to start.

“It was back before I had graduated from dance academy,” you began. “I went to this prestigious school on a scholarship—not a full ride, but enough that I could afford it with some loans. I thought I was real hot shit at the time. I’d been a prodigy growing up, and that carried over into my attitude. But when I arrived there, I was…let’s say I was humbled.

“Everyone there was just as good as I was, if not better, and I was under a lot of pressure to prove myself. Especially to my mom. She really disapproved of my career choice. She wanted me to go into something more respectable, like finance. Ever since my dad left her for my old dance teacher, she was really jaded about the whole thing. Called it a whore’s profession.”

“Oh my God,” said Yoongi. You nodded.

“So I was in my final year, and I was really overwhelmed with all the work. I had gotten sick that year and had missed a lot of classes, so I was falling behind and my prospects weren’t looking very promising for when I finished school.

“There was this internship opening up, though. It was with a dance studio in Seoul. I knew it was going to be my only real chance at landing a decent career after graduation, otherwise I’d have to go back to living with my mom while I paid off the rest of my student loans.”

Yoongi intertwined his hand with yours and stroked his thumb over your knuckles. You took a deep, steadying breath. Emotions you’d long repressed started to well up. You shoved them down again, determined to finish your story.

“The internship was through this one professor—Dr. Leung. He was the one who decided who would go. Kind of acted like the studio’s liaison. He was a real asshole. Was constantly tearing people down.

“He was never really terrible to me, though I thought I was lucky to escape his brutality. He wasn’t the most encouraging professor, but I was always quick to defend him when people complained because I saw him as tough but fair. He had really high standards, and rightfully so. He was quite the accomplished choreographer in his day.

“So I signed up for the audition. I practiced for months, even working with an adjunct professor to make sure the routine was really, truly flawless. I danced until my toes bled. And when I auditioned, I executed it perfectly. Not a single mistake.”

“And?” Yoongi asked.

“He tore into me. Ripped me apart. Everything from my song choice, to my form, to my choreography. He even hated the outfit I’d chosen.”

“Seriously,” Yoongi said.

You swallowed back the lump that had grown in your throat and nodded.

“I was devastated. I met with him after class the next day. Asked him what I could have done better. He said that he really liked me as a student, but doubted whether I could make it in the industry if I relied on my talent alone.”

“You’re kidding,” he said. “But you’re an incredible dancer.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I really appreciate that.” You got the sense he was just trying to be nice and supportive in whatever way he could, but you still appreciated the sentiment.

“What happened next?”

“Well, he said that he knew how hard I’d been working, and that he’d be sad to see someone as…,” you had to pause when your stomach churned, “…attractive as me fail.”

“No,” Yoongi whispered.

“He said that there was still a…a chance that I could get the internship if I…,” you paused again as your voice began to wobble. You swallowed hard and pushed it down again.

“Apparently it’s a common thing in the industry. A lot of people use their other…assets to get ahead if they can’t rely on their talent alone. So long as they’re bold enough.”

He stroked your hand again with his thumb.

“It was just the one time,” you said. “The whole thing was over in less than twenty minutes. And I don’t regret it. Lots of people have to sell their bodies far more than I ever did.”

“Did you ever tell anyone?” he asked. “Before now, that is.”

“No,” you said. “But word got out anyway about what I’d done. The entire senior class was pissed at me. Everybody wanted that internship. When my roommate heard, she stopped talking to me until the end of term. Didn’t even say goodbye at graduation. It was probably the loneliest I’d ever felt.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Yoongi. You shrugged.

“It’s in the past. Besides, I went on to get the internship and I met Son, and he helped me get to where I am today. I never looked back.”

“What about now?” he asked. “Do you still think it’s been worth it?”

You squeezed his hands. “I’m not sure anymore. It used to be. It will be again once I get past this tour and can go back to being the regular assistant choreographer.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m really glad you’re here,” he said.

At that, you softened. “Thanks, Yoongi. I’m really glad you’re here too.”

You left it off there. You didn’t want to go into too much detail beyond that. You didn’t even remember much of the actual incident. All you could recall was staring at the maroon walls of his office and waiting for it to be over. You’d had the foresight to get drunk beforehand so that it would be easier to go through with.

Yoongi didn’t stay much longer after that. When he left, he gave you a kiss on the forehead and told you to hang in there. You assured him you would. You’d been in shitty situations before and had made it work. You’d do it again.

That night, you tossed and turned.

You hadn’t thought about what happened with Dr. Leung in a very long time. At least not in that much detail. The fallout from your peers afterwards had almost caused you to drop out of school, but somehow, you had survived.

You felt better after having finally gotten that secret off your chest, but something was still bothering you.

Had it been worth it? Or was it all for nothing?

When you’d first made the decision to go through with the act, you figured you would be happier. You’d proven your mother wrong. You’d secured one of the most prestigious internships offered by your dance academy.

And now, you were working not just for the top K-pop group, but the world’s biggest boy band. Surely that had to count for something, right?

So why did you still feel so hollow? _________________________ A/N:  I am aware that this story has reached a pretty dark place. I’m very protective over the mental health of my readers. All of this empathy work is mentally and emotionally taxing, so make sure you’re taking care of yourself while you read this. I’m not going to leave this fic open-ended. I will finish it and I will make sure I handle the ending responsibly so that it was worth the dark places that we’ve visited while reading this story. Right now, the reader is depressed. She’s caught between a rock and a hard place, but she will find her way out of it. She just needs a little more time.  Please make sure you aren’t absorbing her emotions and carrying them with you into your day-to-day life. Hold space for her, and then let it go. Don’t become her feelings. It’s easy to do that when you’re left on a low note without any resolution, but the resolution is coming. Hang in there.  I’m saying this as much to myself as I am to all of you lol. 

[woah-were-halfway-there]

Could you do something really small about Carson telling Brian and Ema about her abusive relationship for the first time 🥺 and how they react.

Oooo see the thing is with this like something would have to prompt Carson to open up to them about that and it does take a while to do so. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them or doesn’t feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable with them at all, she adores Auston’s parents and from early on in hers and Auston’s relationship she wished they knew just how much their son meant to her and how he was picking up and piecing back together a heart that he didn’t break and just how that love she’s gotten from him has saved her from a lot of dark places because he provides her a light she can grasp onto. When she thinks about her ex and the abusive relationship she was in, she’s immediately taken back to the horrible place she was in mentally and emotionally. It was the lowest she’s ever been (aside from when her mom passed away but that’s obvs a different story) and she just really closed herself off from her loved ones and suffered alone. And it’s not that those most important in her life didn’t try to help, it was at a point where Carson was pushing them away. When she was going through that, there were a couple of relationships she had with people that didn’t make it through that lull and she doesn’t blame them for leaving but she was extra thankful for those who stuck around as she started coming out of it.

And that’s the thing, Auston was a huge part in her breaking down those walls she unintentionally put up because for whatever reason, he was able to crack through them with ease. There was something that just drew him and Carson together and he was so determined to see where it went but was so patient with Carson while she hesitantly opened her heart up to someone else after being betrayed and coming to terms with how she was abused by someone she thought loved her as much as she loved them.

Again, it’s just a topic that’s hard for her to talk about because then she relives it and it’s all quite traumatic for her. Earlier in her and Auston’s relationship there’d be some things that just triggered her and what kept her from spiralling was talking about it because then she could focus on moving on. Auston knew some of the extent of what Carson’s ex did before they even started a sexual relationship. He knew her ex cheated on her when they were still just friends having heard bits of the story from her and Mitch but it wasn’t until after they started dating that he knew the extent of the abuse she was experiencing while in a relationship with her ex and that took some time to come to light but Carson had to come to terms with it all first and as she did that she thought as her partner, Auston deserved to know. He was absolutely livid but also devastated when she told him because he didn’t understand how anyone could do that to Carson of all people and it’s just something they’ve navigated together. Auston did tell his parents about the abusive relationship before she talked to them about it, but he didn’t go into any details like for a while all they knew was that she had been in an abusive relationship and nothing more. Auston didn’t go into specifics because it wasn’t his trauma to share and it also made him really upset talking or even thinking about it.

Like I said earlier, I think something would prompt Carson to really open up to Auston’s parents about all of that. Like maybe it’s after they get engaged or maybe it’s after they find out they’re expecting Mia or around their wedding, there’s just something going on for them and it has Carson emotional thinking about how 19 year old her was convinced she was the problem and that she was meant to be alone but here she was with the man she loved more than anything in the world and who she knew loved her back the same amount, about to get married and with a family of their own. It’d be very overwhelming for Carson in a good way of course, but with that she’d be thinking about how far she’s come and I think that’s when she’d tell Auston’s parents about her abusive relationship. I don’t think she’d go into every little detail but she’d get the message across for sure and just end it with telling them how their son gives her a love she didn’t think she deserved and just going on to tell them how much Auston means to her and during all that I imagine Brian and Ema reacting very calmly, listening and processing everything Carson is sharing with them and they’d absolutely be upset thinking about it but with Carson being there with them and she’s just being so open and vulnerable, they wouldn’t show that they’re upset. They’d focus on where they are then and there, how Carson is part of their family and she’s not going back to the type of situation she was in. I def could see Ema tearing up a bit just thinking about it all as Carson told them but she wouldn’t interrupt, neither would Brian. They just listen and are shoulders for Carson to lean on and once she’s done telling them, they give her the biggest hug and tell her how she is their family and they’re so grateful to have her and how she deserves to feel the love and happiness she has now and that she’s not selfish for wanting that for herself. It’d just be a really sweet moment between the three of them

[skye-huntress]

RWBY Volume 9 Reaction

Episode 10: “Of Solitude and Self”

I don’t know if I’m going to be getting to sleep tonight. It’s not as bad as last time since things ended on more positive notes as I expected it to, it’s mostly just the excitement of it all. Not even the bittersweetness of entering a new hiatus seems to have hit me yet, though of course, we still have that movie next week

So Summer’s voice at the end of last episode was the start of a vision of the past

I’ve long suspected that Raven knew more about Salem and Summer’s disappearance so her involvement isn’t surprising in the least

Raven used another portal to take them away. It might be someone from her tribe like Vernal, someone else they were working with, or it could be Qrow. When he was poisoned, in his delirium, he seemed to be reliving a conversation where he told Tai Summer was “not coming back”. Of course, it’s still possible Raven told him something since they still talked sometimes, but there is another implication that he was involved, too. If true, he lied to Ruby when she asked him back in Volume 7

Either way, this sets up a potential confrontation between Ruby and Raven later. After all, Ruby needs closure and also for her to truly succeed, she needs to learn where her mother failed

Ruby idolised her mother, thought of her as a hero, but she was still human. She lied, kept secrets, made mistakes, and at some point she failed. Ruby doesn’t need to be Summer Rose, she needs to learn to be better than her

The Herbalist burned leaves to create those hallucinations, and it seems Jaune passed his session. Quite clever to use that to help bring Neo back to her senses

That said, that meant the Cat was just fighting in their natural form

So the mother’s promise was that she would always love her daughters just as they are. Just what Ruby needed to hear from the one person she needed to hear it from most. Ruby was already “enough” all along, she just needed the confidence to believe that for herself, to start trusting what was in her own heart

Yes! That’s how you fight! From now on, you fight like that!

It’s sometimes easy to forget, but Team RWBY were already badasses before Beacon. They were already fighting at a higher level than many of their upperclassmen and even some licensed Huntsmen. Whatever ulterior motives Ozpin had for moving Ruby up two years, he wouldn’t have done it if he thought her incapable

It was brief but we did get a look at Weiss’ Nevermore summon. I obviously prefer seeing her angel form. Speaking of Weiss, yes, I did hear her call out to Ruby first!

I suppose it would be Neo who killed the Cat. It’s not like we know what she did to the real Jabberwalker. And now it’s her time to find her way again. It is an end in a sense, but it is also a chance for a new beginning, one she gets to choose. In this case, you could also think of it as rehabilitation, something Neo could have benefited from a long time ago if she wasn’t constantly surrounded by criminals all her life

So Little is now Somewhat, I guess. Curiously, even though they went through Ascension and taken on a new form, they still haven’t decided on a purpose. That’s not very Afteran of them, they must have gotten inspiration from somewhere else. Deep down, they’re still the same Little, and their heart will always remember. Now RWBY and Jaune can leave knowing their new friends will be alright

Checking the time at this point, I noticed we still had a ways to go, so I knew there were more reveals ahead

One last talk with the Blacksmith it seems

So the Cat wasn’t always like that. I’m sure the curiosity and sense of abandonment wore them down over the years but Alyx’s seeming betrayal must have been the last straw

At lot of people hypothesised that the Ever After was an early abandoned experiment from the Brothers. In reality, they were created by the tree and were the Ever After’s original caretakers, and they created the Cat and the Jabberwalker to be their replacements so they could go on building new worlds

There’s something important here that the Blacksmith touched on, about how their extreme natures can clash and be harmful unchecked, so it’s better when they act to balance each other out.

Just like most other Afterans, the Brothers aren’t great at being flexible. But there are Afterans like Somewhat who take on surprising evolutions after contact with the more complex and diverse people of Remnant. Perhaps the Brothers themselves could benefit from spending more time among their creations. If they had, they might have been able to handle Salem’s situation with more care and compassion.

Understanding more about the Brothers’ history and what they wanted to achieve will probably be a huge benefit when RWBY confront them on the inevitable Judgment Day.

So Jaune was de-aged. Young man on the outside, old man on the inside. So basically Oscar.

So a Portal to not where, but when they are needed most. I’m guessing this is the end of their vacation time. Probably should have gotten some more time at the beach while they had the chance

According to the books, it’s been going on a while now but a lot of different factions have been converging on Vacuo since the Fall of Beacon. First, it was students from Beacon, then Haven. Then Atlas refugees showed up, followed by whatever was left of their military. I also see Amity floating there at its normal altitude. And because of Ruby’s message, a lot of people around the world probably put it together that Vacuo could likely be the last stand if Atlas fell. Basically, just about everybody who is ready and willing to fight is here. RWBY are just a little late to the party.

Of course, the part we’ll probably never get to see is them trying to explain to their friends and family what happened. I’m talking the full play-by-play as they explain everything. There’d be some fun reactions, I’m sure. I can imagine Nora and Sun being jealous of not getting to go themselves.

[tc-doherty]

TC has even MORE WIPs??? Yes.

Because you asked @magefaery

My brain is just story ideas all the way down. Anyway, here are my two brand-new ideas and one that I've been playing with for a while, as well as a tour of my brain and some of the things that I write just for fun.

Putting it under a read more because it got kind of long..........

WIP number 1: a xiania transmigration story where the main character (after dying a fairly early death) wakes up as himself as a kid, the day that he joins his cultivation sect. He’s excited to have the chance to get revenge on the people who caused his death in the first place but things start going different almost immediately. For one thing, he's taken in by a different master. He decides, on a whim, to save the life of his new senior brother who had been kind to him in his first life and had also gotten murdered. He does save him successfully! Only for both of them to die a few weeks later.

And…he wakes up as himself again, on that same first day.

So he gets really stuck in this time loop where every time his senior brother dies, he has to start over (although I might have "save points" throughout the story so he’s not always going back to day one…honestly I haven't decided which I like better yet). Until he finds a way to take down the people who have kept killing them in every lifetime, he won't be able to break them out of the time loop.

Anyway, the subgenre of transmigration where people are reliving their own lives is my absolute favorite and of course I wanted to play with that! But the actual form of the story was inspired by one particular side chapter of 我家大师兄脑子有坑. That chapter was more of an AU along the lines of "LOL wouldn't it be fucked up if this were true" and through my tears I said “yes”. I thought the idea was a lot of fun! I did take mine in a fairly different direction though.

That idea is actually probably close to a year old? These next two ideas are much newer… And by that I mean they're from last week LOL

WIP number 2: about a prince from a relatively large family. He’s actually pretty intelligent and talented at a bunch of things but knows that if his siblings know that it's only going to make them constantly suspicious of him. So he put a lot of work into appearing lazy and/or mediocre at everything that he does. He only has one real friend, who is a member of the royal guard and they hang out sometimes, and the guard also helps him avoid notice from his family. But because he is so "unimportant" he keeps getting used as a political hostage, essentially.

I want him to break out of the royal family and enter the real world, so to speak. I think he's probably going to fake his own death although I haven't decided yet, and I don't know for sure what I want him to do once he gets out. I always start with the characters first and the plot comes later hahahaha

WIP number 3: this is a war drama where the young daughter of a noble or royal family (I haven't decided yet) is given to the general of an enemy army as part of a surrender agreement and at first the general’s just like "cool, free squire" but they end up having a very mother/daughter type relationship.

And here's some older things that I've been playing with for…sometimes a long time? Unsure whether any of these will actually be novels but I do still think about them all.

Two retellings of Swan Lake, one of which is still a tragedy and one of which is extremely me on my bullshit with a lesbian relationship between Odile and Odette from the perspective of Odile. I always thought I should just choose one of them to tell, because clearly I want to tell a version of this story.

A post-apocalyptic fantasy story where the various "royal" families control protected city states while everything outside of them has gone completely to hell and is filled with monsters whose bites/scratches/sting/whatever will pump you absolutely full of twisted wild magic and you either die or turn into one of them. In this universe the main role of knights was killing monsters because they did still need to have contact with other cities and also some supplies only grew in the wild. This one was kind of fun because as much of it as I had written so far was all done without using the letter 'O'. There's no real reason for it, I just thought it sounded fun. The main characters are Elfrieda, a princess who was sent to marry into a different city, and the Knight General Tatiana.

A sort of magical boarding school story where the kids are basically being trained and used as child soldiers. Main characters were Piper and Sunehri who were teenagers at that point and were trying to escape together because Sunehri had been captured and used by the enemy and the leadership of the school was going to execute her for it.

Magical girl story that was actually a "dark" magical girl group and a "light" magical girl group who are set up to act against each other because of a prophecy but, well, a lot of things happen. I just kinda wanted to write a story where the characters associated with the dark were actually kind and welcoming whereas the characters associated with the light were fanatical and overbearing.

I had a political marriage story where the families couldn't agree which son was going to marry which daughter and the daughters got tired of it and decided to get married to each other and that was kind of fun.

And then I have a sort of political one about Lady Liliya who is on the run from political nonsense happening in her own country and ends up finding Etseho who is a "princess" (it has a totally different political situation but I'll use that for now) of the nation that she is currently hiding in. Etseho had given up her political rank after losing her husband and was mostly just really dedicated to killing bandits. The two of them certainly have some times together, Etseho ends up being sort of a mentor to Liliya, and also they fall in love.

I have multiple stories set in the Second Chances universe:

Some of them are interconnected and take place after the main story which are the stories about Bri and Jackson (which has to do with demons and the divine in the far northwest) this also includes Izare and Mahesha's adopted daughter Gailah. Also there's one about Vese and Diego which has to do with happenings in the sort of mid-northwest range. It's farther south than the one above and takes place a little bit afterwards. But the casts of characters do have some connections/interactions.

There is also a story about Yrfan and Tahrir which is the only Second Chances story to take place in the far south of the continent so it doesn't really matter where it falls in the timeline because it has no connection to any of the others. It's basically about Yrfan trying to save the entire region from falling under the control of his abusive ex-boyfriend who is power-hungry and also definitely Not Quite Human anymore.

There's a story about Aubrielle and Taylin & Arvid, Klaus, and Valkan which is just kind of hard to explain? It's basically an AU sequel to an older version of Second Chances which is no longer canon but has a relatively large cast of characters and multiple stories set within it so I still think about it sometimes hahaha

Another one connected to the above is about Daire and Asherah which is kind of very loosely a little mermaid type story? About a sea goddess who kept falling in love with the reincarnation of the same person and eventually decided to give up her divinity so that they could live one mortal lifetime together.

Moving away from Second Chances, there’s Naya's story which is a sort of endlessly repeating mythological cycle where the current incarnation of the spring goddess decides to break everything by willingly becoming the bride of the god of death.

And there's The Heart Of The Sword which was a novel I wrote that was really bad but I still like the characters a lot. The basic premise was that the souls of various heroic weapons had been set aside so that all of these magical weapons could be available again after the apocalypse happened and they were people (similar to Soul Eater). The main characters were the reincarnations of Excalibur and the three Irish lances the Gae Bolg, Gae Assail, and Gae Dearg. Cu Chulainn is my absolute favorite mythological hero after all, it's not like I'm gonna leave his weapon out of something like that LMAO

I also have a story about a knight who became a black knight. She betrayed her kingdom as part of a price she has to pay to a witch who promised to bring her dead lover back to life after the knight had worked for her for a certain amount of time. But you know…witches. Who can trust them? Things don't exactly go the way she thought they would.

I think that that might be everything I have that does not include any of my friends' characters?

[kyowritesstuff]

Goldencast - Harry Potter Si-Oc

 Being a Hogwarts student is fun.

 In theory.

 In actuality, having to relive your childhood as someone that you’re not, in a country you have no loyalty for, and with a war fast approaching, is certainly upsetting.

 …more than a little upsetting.

 Four Hogwarts students decide they’re not going to fall to the war, and in spite of all the prejudices that rule Britain, they decide to do it together.

 Now if only they figured out they’re not the only real person in the group...

PROLOGUE

Sky Clarksong boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than she actually is.

Her not-parents – Michael Clarksong and Emma Smith, both Muggles – wait patiently on the platform while she searches for an empty compartment. She finds one near the end of the train, and hurrying as to not obstruct people on the corridor, she finally settles inside. Lait, her recently adopted cat, rises her head curiously for a second before accommodating inside of her cage, dozing off with a purr.

With a quiet sight, Sky sits next to the window and searches for her parents. Their house is just a few blocks from King’s Cross, and so there was no rush to arrive early to platform nine and three-quarters. In fact, Sky can still taste her morning coffee with milk at the back of her throat, a sweet, caramel aftertaste that’s sure to last till she reaches school.

Humming pleasantly, she waves to her mom when their eyes meet, and lets out a well-practiced chuckle when she instantly smacks her dad in the face to let him know where she is. Getting comfortable on her seat, she takes out her wand – Hazel, dragon heartstring, nine inches, swishy – and, her fingers gliding across its markings, visualizes in her mind’s eye two simple words.

[Magical Prodigy.]

That was Sky’s pick from the list of magical skills. She’s supposedly naturally gifted with magic, because of it. It came with a small cost – being naturally slow in learning subjects non related to magic. As she was almost done with high school at the time, the risk seemed worth it.

Now thirty years into the past, she’s more than assured in her choices.

She has to admit, though, that the sudden change in era and country has left her quite disarmed. First time she saw her parents, she almost forgot how to speak. And don’t get her started on school. History quickly became her least favorite subject, despite having loved it in her previous life. She tried to find solace in Literature, but that was just another disappointment. None of the authors she knew existed in this world, and if they did, they hadn’t written their books yet.

Sad, yes. But all Sky has to do to read proper stories again, i.e. fanfiction, i.e. ao3, is survive the war. Whatever comes after that, she should be able to deal with appropriately.

Or so she hopes.

…that’s why she picked the Magical Prodigy skill, she allows herself to admit, internally. Magic will leave her enthralled, she knows, and the thought of being able to perform it impeccably was a much needed comfort when she woke up in the White Void. But in reality, it’s not to entertain herself. It’s a net. A safety net. If all else fails, either during the war or after it, she’ll always have her magic to fall back on.

She’ll live past her teenage years, that’s one thing she’s sure of. But the way she’ll live, in this wonderful, terrifying, magical new world, that’s what she’s afraid of. What will she work as? Towards what goal? Will she live in a magical neighborhood, or will she try to live in Muggle Britain hiding her magic? Will her new, not-parents be part of her life? Will anyone else?

So many variants and terrifying maybes, and the one thing that remains true in every single one is that her future will be determined by her skill with magic.

So Sky picked the Magical Prodigy skill, and she’s gonna ace every challenge Hogwarts presents her with, so whatever happens to her after school, she can assure herself it’ll be ok. She’s in the world of Harry Potter, her true family only a memory now, but she has magic, and she’ll be ok.

Everything will be ok.

An unexpected, strong knock comes from the doors to her compartment, startling Sky out of her thoughts, and when she whips her head around, she sees…

Rook Brindlestone boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than he actually is.

Having been Apparated by one of the Brindlestone’s house elves, he’s left disoriented before one of the train’s entrances, it’s scarlet metal shining obnoxiously. Shaking his head firmly, he takes a step towards the train. The world swims around him as he does, but he powers through it and manages to get his luggage up with him with no one’s help.

Once inside, his surroundings seem to clear, and no longer dizzy, he walks straight down the corridor until the very end of the train. Most of the compartments there are empty, except for one housing a girl seemingly lost in thought while staring at her wand.

Wavy brown hair, tan skin, caramel eyes, from what he can see from behind the glass. She’s small and has no colored tie, so she’s probably a first year, like him. He doesn’t recognize her, though, and that might be a problem. When he read The Philosopher’s Stone at the wee young age of ten, he didn’t give much focus to descriptions and mostly made his own guesses on how the characters looked, save except for some key aspects such as Harry’s lightning scar or Snape’s greasy hair. So now, living in the same reality as those characters, he has next to no clue who anyone is.

That leaves two options with this girl: Either she’s a main character he heavily misinterpreted during his childhood, or she’s a side character whose only purpose is to fill up the halls.

Welp. No matter who she is, Rook needs friends. It’s not like he can’t figure out who she is, either. She’s a kid, and he’s a kid, too, so all he really needs to do is ask.

Or, you know, read her mind.

[Natural Legilimens/Occlumens.]

…ok so he’s just looking for excuses to use his Legilimens abilities, but he really needs to practice on someone who won’t immediately notice him intruding their thoughts, or else he might risk his life during the war.

…that probably doesn’t justify using his powers on an eleven-year-old, but. Still.

…has he even knocked on the door yet?

Fuck.

Regaining focus, Rook knocks on the girl’s door, although with much more force than required. He grimaces for half a second, and then the girl inside the compartment looks up from her wand and towards him, properly startled. He offers her an apologetic smile from behind the glass, and patiently waits for her to open the door. When she does…

“Um, hi.”

“Hello,” he says, voice warm. “Mind if I sit with you?”

Slowly, almost calculatingly, she nods. Rook drags his luggage inside and places it atop the overhead racks, next to a cage where a fluffy calico-looking cat sleeps. The cat opens one of its eyes. Rook blinks at it. As he does so, he introduces himself.

“I’m Rook. Rook Brindlestone. You?”

“…I’m Sky. Clarksong.”

…no, that doesn’t ring any bells. Humming, he sits across from her.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“…thanks?”

Seemingly awkward, Sky starts to fidget with her wand. Despite the clear show of discomfort, though, Rook is overwhelmed by a sudden rush of thrill. The first magical person his age he’s talking to. It might be a leftover trait from the Rook Brindlestone whose body he took over, that characteristically childish urge to befriend people of his kind, because in reality, he’s sixteen years old, not eleven. When Sky meets eyes with him again, it is that same excited thrum under his skin which guides his magic out, reaching out towards her in curiosity – and he’s immediately driven blind by a wall of white fire.

Smile sharpening, Rook blinks the sudden rush of emotions out of his system and thinks, privately, to himself: ‘What the fuck?’

“Do you want a brownie?” he says on autopilot, not quite seeing Sky anymore but bright, silver flames.

Sky blinks.

 “Brownies?”

“I had my house elves bake them for me.”

“Oh.” And then, almost meekly, she says, “…are they chocolate?”

By the time his vision clears, he’s already taken his brownie-filled tupper out and offering one out to Sky. It is immediately snatched from his hand.

But not by Sky.

Both of them turn to stare at their compartment door, where they’re met by…

Amber Cedargust boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than she actually is.

Her parents gush over her with all the grace their name allows them to up until they arrive at platform nine and three-quarters, where they let her off into the train with curt nods. Amber doesn’t believe, like they do, that Pureblood families should act all prim and mighty all the time, but decides to humor her parents by bowing to them before setting down the hall, a wry smile on her lips as she does so.

She takes note of all the people she passes by: The curls of their hair, the shape of their eyes, the exact shade of their skin. Once she’s nearing the end of the hall she deduces that Harry Potter must not have yet arrived to Kings Cross, for she hasn’t seen even a hint of either his famously messy mop of hair or the ginger ones of his best friend’s family.

What she does see is the heir of the Brindlestone family, handing off a delectable looking piece of chocolate brownie to a girl she doesn’t recognize. A Muggleborn, then, and a very cute one at that. And given that Brindlestone’s talking to her, she must have some kind of charm, too.

Amber decides, right then and there, that she’s befriending both of them. As so, she approaches their compartment door, left open to the rest of the train. Without thinking, she snatches the chocolate brownie right out of Brindlestone’s hand. This causes both kids to look at her, perplexed.

…well, father did always say first impression should be memorable.

Hiding her surprise at her own actions behind a smirk, she takes a bite out of the brownie. A sweet warmth blooms inside her mouth, and so delighted she is by the taste she can’t help but let out a pleased hum.

“This,” she starts, barely resisting the urge to shove the whole treat in her mouth, “is so good.”

Brindlestone blinks at her. In his eyes there’s a spark of recognition.

“I’m glad,” he says, smiling cordially at her. “But that wasn’t for you.”

Amber merely rolls her eyes, the smile on her face smeared with chocolate. “I know that perfectly well, but I figured since we’re friends now, neither of you would mind.”

“Friends?” Asks the girl opposite Brindlestone, a small frown on her face. It is so unbelievingly childish, the way her hair curls around her tiny, round face. Amber has to resist the urge to squish her cheeks.

“Well, of course!” Amber says, fully entering the compartment and seating herself next to Brindlestone. Smile widening, she reaches a hand out towards the girl, still frowning adorably at her. “I’m Amber Cedargust, and I’m your best friend now.”

The girl blinks owlishly at her. Slowly, frown easing away into an uncertain smile, she takes her hand and shakes it.

“Sky Clarksong.”

“Rook Brindlestone,” says the boy by her side, and Amber finally has a name to one of the many heirs her parents insisted she befriend. She turns to look at the boy – Rook – and, now that she’s so close to him, notices just how pretty he is: Fluffy black hair, dark skin, and piercing, ice blue eyes. And then, of course, now that his compartment partner has approved of her, he offers Amber a disarmingly charming smile.

He’s going to grow up to be a heartbreaker, she knows.

She wonders if she can take advantage of that.

[Metamorphagus.]

“Oh, I already know of you, dear,” Amber says with all the flair she can mend into her voice. “Any wizard worth a Sickle does. You’re the Brindlestone heir. Your family owns the gold mines north of the Thistleberry Forest.” Then, leaning closer to him, eyes glinting with mischief, she asks “The question is, do you know of me?”

To his merit, Rook doesn’t lean away from her, not even an inch. He just sits and stares at her, eyes frowning slightly in concentration.

“…you’re the Cedargust heir,” he eventually says, words coming out slowly. “Daughter of Silver Cedargust and Yvonne Cedargust-Honeywood, owners of the Cedargust Vineyard and the…Honeywood Library?”

Amber allows herself to snort.

“I think you mean the Honeywood Magical Sanctuary, dear. The Ancient Library belongs to the Redsoot family, I’m afraid.”

Rook blinks. “Oh.”

“I take it you’re both Purebloods, then?” Asks Sky, making Amber remember they’re not alone on the compartment. Leaning back on her seat, Amber laughs airily, smiling at Sky with crinkling eyes.

“Yeah, we are. And you’re a Muggleborn, aren’t you? Your clothes aren’t very…witchy.”

To that, Sky smiles bashfully, bringing a hand up to tap her wand against her lips.  Amber takes this – and the fact that she doesn’t remember her parents mentioning any Clarksong family – as answer enough.

Rook starts shuffling at her side, and it’s only when he hands out another brownie to Sky that Amber remembers her own – stolen – treat.

Blushing, she takes another bite of it and hopes none of her companions notice her now pink cheeks. Sky follows her lead and tries the brownie, and Amber can only assume her delighted expression was the same one she wore when she was the one trying the chocolate delicacy.

“Oh my god,” she says, dropping her wand to cover her face. “Rook, this is- you are legally obliged to tell your house elves that I love this now.”

Rook smiles warmly and, after he’s lifted Amber’s stuff into a rack above them, gets one brownie for himself. Winking at Sky, he takes a bite of it and says, “Will do.”

Amber feels this warmth of Rook’s extending to her, blooming in her chest like a golden ray of sunshine. She thinks she just chose the best compartment to sit into, apart from the one which would house the Golden Trio, of course. And from the looks of it, both Rook and Sky, all chocolate smiles and wonder, were thinking the same.

Then the train’s whistle sounds, and the three of them are abruptly reminded their compartment has four seats.

“Um, this looks like a very sweet moment but, uh, can I sit with you?”

Alex Aspenvine boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than he actually is.

His mom had been excited when his Hogwarts letter arrived. His dad, who was completely unaware of her status as a witch, not so much. He got over it quickly enough – a week or two after his letter arrived, he thinks – and was all too enamored by the sight of Diagon Alley to hold any resentment towards his wife after that.

Even now, on platform nine and three-quarters, he’s looking around in amazement, holding tightly onto his wife’s hand. Alex is too concerned with the train leaving without him to pay them any mind.

Nervous beyond belief because of their late arrival, he rushes through the platform to the end of the train, where he knows the compartments are more likely to be empty. His cat, Bandit, lets out an excited trill as Alex all but throws himself through the doors. Alex is too breathless to actually chastise him for it, so he just shakes his cage a little as he searches for an empty compartment.

To his dismay, there is none: None of the compartments were completely filled, as this was the very end of the train, but all were occupied. One compartment to his left only had one person in it, though, so that was probably Alex’s best option.

‘Huh…that guy’s hair is really messy…he has really pretty green eyes, though…’

…

Yeah, no, fuck sitting with Harry Potter.

Again in a rush, he promptly turns to the compartment to his right, where three kids are sitting and sharing pieces of cake. They all look very cute, but Harry Potter is right there and now that he’s facing the way of the doors he can actually see a family full of redheads on the platform just a few compartments down and he really, really doesn’t want to get involved with anything regarding the main plot. Not so early on, when he’s weak like this and on the verge of a panic attack.

And so, he’s left standing awkwardly in front of these kids’ compartment door, waiting for one of them to notice him.

None does.

The Hogwarts Express’ whistle rings sharply around the platform.

Without his permission, his mouth moves.

“Um, this looks like a very sweet moment but, uh, can I sit with you?”

All three kids turn to look at him, momentarily confused. The girl who’s closest to him is the first to regain focus, giving him a blinding smile.

“Well, of course, dear! Sit, sit, the train’s just about to part.”

Alex tries to smile back at her as he comes in, but all he manages is a grimace, shoving his stuff and Bandit’s cage under the seats. He ends up sitting opposite her and next to a brown haired girl, the boy next to the window raising a brow curiously at him as Alex quickly closes the door shut. Heaving a relieved sigh, he finally allows himself to relax. It’s then that the train starts moving, and the girl next to him shuffles to get closer to the window. That’s how Alex is reminded that his parents are people that exists.

Leaning closer to the window himself, he tries not to intrude on the girl’s space while also frantically looking for his parents. To his immense relief, they’re right outside their compartment window, having watched him make a run for the end of the train. The kids opposite them also pile up next to the window, and they all call out to their parents as the Hogwarts Express leaves the station – all except for the black haired boy, who looks out to the platform serene and quiet.

Once the platform gives way to tree-filled fields, they all return to their seats.

“Well, that’s that, I guess,” the girl next to him mutters. Leaning back on her seat, she turns to him and offers him a warm, if tired, smile. “I’m Sky Clarksong.”

“Alex Aspenvine,” is his automatic answer.

“Rook Brindlestone,” says the guy with black hair, smiling politely. And then, finally…

“Amber Cedargust,” says the girl who allowed him in. Now that the train has finally left the station, Alex lets himself study her carefully.

She’s blonde, and unlike him, her hair seems soft and well cared for, sunrays covering it in a golden shine. His own hair rests messy and untamable, a tangle of dusty blond curls pulled up in a small bun. Her skin is light and clear, lips a soft pink color that, were Alex actually the same age as her, would probably ensure her as his first crush.  But being older than he should, and knowing things nobody else on this universe knows, the sight only makes Alex wonder if kids are supposed to look that elegant. That…mature.

…it’s probably Harry Potter logic, somehow. Rowling wouldn’t want ugly characters.

…no, actually, she definitely would want them, if only to slander them and have them live through unsavory events. But, still.

This Amber Cedargust is simply far too perceptive-looking. Too cleverish.

This knowledge settles into the depths of Alex’s gut, and he can tell by the way his chest tightens that it’ll be the cause of many restless nights.

That doesn’t stop him from admiring Amber’s eyes.

At first glance, when he got in the compartment, they looked an olive green. Now that he’s paying more attention, though, he can see that they’re actually the color of the sea, threatening to pull him in and leave him breathless. But then, no- her sea-colored eyes seem to swirl, and slowly, almost invisibly, they gain an emerald light.

Amber blinks.

Alex flinches, and the charm is gone.

Amber frowns curiously at him, still sporting a smile, but Alex makes a point of not staring directly at her eyes, instead directing his grey gaze to the bridge of her nose.

Veela.

This Amber Cedargust has Veela blood.

Just his fucking luck.

“So, um,” is his magnificent, eloquently put together conversation starter. “You all Purebloods?”

“Us two are,” says Rook, nodding towards himself and Amber. “Sky’s a Muggleborn.” Next to him, Sky offers him a smile. To Alex, though, who’s a self-declared expert on introverts and social anxiety, it looks more like a grimace. Rook continues on. “You?”

“Half-blood.”

Amber gains a curious glint in her eyes.

“Half-blood?” she asks, straightening in her seat. “Who’s your magical parent?”

“My mom,” Alex admits, fidgeting in his seat. In his mind, he’s already screaming, desperately trying to remember if he ever read about a Cedargust Death Eater. The only knowledge his memories supply him with, however, is that the wizarding community frowns upon witches who marry Muggles more than they do wizards. “Elowen Aspenvine. She’s, um, a Portraiture Master.”

Amber raises one careful brow.

“A Portraiture Master?” she asks, voice now much more sharp. “Why, I’ve never heard of an Aspenvine with such a title. Only ever Lemongrass. Far as I knew, he was the only Portraiture Master Britain had.”

Alex bristles, or at least he comes close to it. He bites his tongue, though, far too aware of the consequences of making a foe out of a Slytherin-prospect Pureblood heir. No matter how small and cute she may look.

“She’s a polyglot. She works for people all over Europe.” And, feeling a spark of protectiveness too fierce for him to tame down, he adds. “Last month she even went over to Indonesia.”

“Sounds like a good job,” Sky says from beside him. Alex turns to her and focuses on her encouraging smile to try and calm down, even as he sees, from his peripheral vision, Rook turning to Amber and muttering what he thinks is the Pureblood version of ‘easy, girl.’ “I bet she has had lots of good experiences.”

“…yeah,” he murmurs, trying once again to get his memory to work. Clarksong, Sky had said. Had Harry ever encountered any Clarksongs? “She went over to Spain, once. She painted a wedding. The couple was happy.”

“I’m sure they were,” Sky mutters back, just as lowly. “My parents run a café in London. It’s not that big, but people like it a lot.”

“My dad’s a beekeeper. Maybe we could lend you some honey?”

“They’d love that.” Then, Sky’s brow furrows. “Are you from London, too?”

Alex blinks. “Er, no.” Sky’s frown turns vaguely more disappointed, and Alex rushes to make the kid smile again. “But I’m sure we can find a way to mail it to you! You know, magic and all that.” Then he chuckles. It is the most horrible, awkward chuckle he’s ever let out on both of his lives.

“You could use my owl,” Rook offers from across them, apparently done chastising Amber from whatever her little interrogation was. He flashes him a warm, blinding smile, and were he not so obviously a Slytherin-prospect, too, Alex would say it makes him look Gryffindor-ish. “Unless you have one, that is.”

“Huh,” is all Alex says, still not sure how to feel about this weird gang of kids he’s found himself surrounded with. “Yeah, I uh, I think I’ll take you up on that offer, yes.”

Her mom doesn’t own an owl. From what he had managed to gather from her, she has a personal enchanted diary that lets her speak with people all over the world as long as they have a book from the wizarding world and the correct charm. Alex himself had decided to adopt Bandit, a bastard, hyperactive cat, over an owl as his designated Hogwarts pet.

He thought that, with some luck, he would be able to deliver his letters himself.

[Animagus.]

At the time it didn’t strike him that, if his Animagus form were to be an owl or a bird of any kind, he wouldn’t need to send letters to anybody, as he could simply fly over and speak his mind himself. Now in the flesh of a wizard attending Hogwarts for the first time, he can admit to himself that maybe a mammal would be just as good. He’d even take a rat, as offensive as the animal was because of Pettigrew. In the case he couldn’t stop Voldemort from rising again, going about as a rat or a snake might be enough to save his life.

A trill coming from above them breaks Alex out of his thoughts. Sky dutifully stands up and offers Alex a- a brownie? Since when did she have a brownie? Was Alex really so nervous about today he didn’t notice her holding it? Shit, Hogwarts is going to absolutely fuck him if he keeps on like this.

When Sky seats again, there’s a fluffy calico cat on her arms. The cat in question looks around at all of them with silvery blue eyes, and with a meow and a wave of the tail, the cat settles onto Sky’s lap purring.

“This is Lait,” she says, with all the confidence and charm of an eleven-year-old. “We bought her on Diagon Alley.”

In a blink, Amber’s kneeling on the floor and petting at her, cooing and awing at the way Lait presses against her hands.

“Glorious.”

“Ok.”

Then, of course, because he’s a drama queen, Bandit shrieks from inside his cage, and Alex’s got no option but to take him out. It all goes downhill from there.

When they arrive at Hogwarts hours later, all four of them can safely say the ride went much better than expected. Sky and Alex spent most of their time either quietly chatting while looking over their pets or sleeping against each other, despite the nerves of their Sorting growing closer every second. Rook and Amber kept the compartment alive even as their companions slept, talking about everything and anything for the entire ride, playing cards and chess and guess-the-spell. All in all, it was a very enjoyable day, all kids having momentarily forgotten the weight of the war laying ahead.

This comfort keeps them together all the way over the Black Lake, where they all huddle together in a boat and marvel at the sights both over and under them, and through the ghosts’ visit to the first years waiting before the entrance to the Great Hall.

Of course, as the books had predicted, all kids, real or not, are left breathless at the sight of the enchanted roof, showing a smattering of white, twinkling stars against the endless depth of a velvet black sky. It is all so very surreal, the four long tables decorated in the school’s colors, the hundreds of students and thousands of candles lighting up the room. And then, of course, there’s Albus Dumbledore, sitting atop a golden chair and looking over his charges with a smile.

Then there’s the Sorting Hat.

Alex had thought, fleetingly, when they were still on the train, that things went downhill when Bandit decided to be a bitch and scream.

But no. Of course not.

Things go downhill here.

“SLYTHERIN.”

“HUFFLEPUFF.”

“GRYFFINDOR.”

“RAVENCLAW.”

[bhristyy]

•Visiting someone’s grave will always make you experience feelings you thought were long forgotten. Especially, if it’s someone you wish you could explain yourself to one more time.

•Memories are the best things you can create in this lifetime. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Taking pictures, recording videos, & agreeing to do ridiculous things will always be better than not doing anything about it all.

•Catching feelings for someone at a time you aren’t suppose to is completely okay. It’s shows you still have a heart. Genuine feelings is something you feel naturally.

•Missing someone is completely normal. Besides, if something is meant to be you will always find your way back to it.

•There are friends that you gossip with, shop with, stage those cliché Instagram pictures with, but there are also the friends who will be there at 3:00 AM when you text them in need of reassurance. Make sure you distinguish the differences between these people early on.

•Clear fruit scented lip gloss is always the way to go.

•Holding onto anger will only cause you to grow bitter. If someone shows you why you shouldn’t trust in love, love even more. If someone doesn’t like who you are, be who you are even more.

•You might not have everything figured out right now. Whether that means you can’t decide on a college or what you want to do for the rest of your life, you need to establish that the period of transition is completely necessary to get where you are going.

•Become your own best friend. Have your own back. Dance randomly to the music you like. You don’t need someone else to validate your worth.

•Rekindling old friendships is perfectly fine. All of this pride & ego for what? Some mistakes were made. Forgive people, especially if they done nothing to seriously hurt you. Set aside differences. Time is not always an apology, but when you’re young you won’t remember the silly fights and arguments anyways.

•Buying things & doing things you couldn’t do as a kid is self-care. You owe it to yourself to take control of your own life, just because someone has ruined your innocence doesn’t mean you can’t start over & relive the normal childhood you wish you had.

•If you are liked by someone who is unkind to others, it says a lot about you.

•Scream. Yell. Be loud & continue to do everything regardless of what people think.

•Go after what you love. Play the odds. You have to take bold risks in love if you ever want something good to come from it.

•Timing most likely will never be on your side, but you have to trust in it. There are reasons why things don’t work out. Timing will not only make you close company with the past, where you’ll be reminded of the things that didn’t work out, but the future, where you’ll meet the reasons why it never did.

•Learn new things every day. Talk to people you wouldn’t normally speak to & be nice to them.

• The person you’re meant to be with will make you the best version of yourself. They’ll make you laugh so hard your ribcage feels like it’s about to explode & your eyeliner will run down your face. In blatant terms, they will happy as one can be.

•Exes will always try to slither back into your life. Especially the people who were nothing but bad decisions & toxins. Forgive them, because you owe it to yourself to be happy, but never relight that burning candle again. They are not your twin flame & you feel nothing towards them.

•Pets make a house a home, they’re a lot to deal with but the person they love the most is you.

•Distance can sometimes make the heart grow fonder or it can make you further apart.

•Next year we’ll meet again with new things we’ve learned. There are still so many great moments and terrible moments to come. Until then, let’s welcome 2024 like somebody’s new bitch.

[atlanticcanada]

Cape Breton flea markets make big comeback

On a bluebird Sunday afternoon in early spring, it was a blast to the past inside the County Arena in Coxheath, N.S.

"Last week we had 1,500 [people]. This week, we're probably going to be close to it,” said Chris Lee, who recently purchased the rights to the County Arena flea market from longtime owner George Peters.

After being gone for years, the flea market that had been run for more than 40 years by Peters has returned.

It may seem like an improbable comeback in this day and age of online shopping, but if recent crowds are any indication, there's still an appetite for browsing “old school.”

While many vendors sold traditional flea market items like trading cards, old games and DVDs, at one booth, you could say past met present.

Chase the Ace tickets were being sold - something that didn't exist in the flea markets of yesteryear.

"It’s nice to see the crowds back,” said Chase the Ace ticket vendor Marilyn Singer. “They're out shopping. They're friendly and they're nice. It's good."

A second Cape Breton flea market has enjoyed a renaissance at Knox Hall in Glace Bay, where buy-and-sells that began in late March have also enjoyed good crowds.

"It's what we did as a kid,” Lee said. “I mean, growing up in the ‘80s and ‘90s, we came to the flea market. We saw all of our friends. Now, we're reliving the ‘80s and ‘90s. What was old is now new."

Some wondered if, like many comebacks, the return of the flea market might be short-lived.

"People want to get out,” Lee said. “People want to smell things. People want to touch stuff. People want to get out and socialize, and this is one of the best social events on a Sunday."

For now, the market at the County Arena will be closed on Mother's Day.

However, organizers say it will take place each Sunday from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., until the arena is filled with ice this fall.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/YFsRoex

[the-kaedageist]

Will had been the one who’d come up with it, in the end. When he’d first made the comment, all those years ago, Orym had never realized he would someday wear it inked into his own flesh.

It was back when the thing between them had still been new, before it had settled into the comfort of time - those breathless days when Orym hadn’t quite believed what was happening, rolling over in his bed to stare at Will’s sleeping form in wonder. Before he’d learned to expect Will curled around him and then suddenly found him ripped away, forced to live without that embrace for the rest of his life.

Orym’s stomach had still sprouted butterflies whenever he’d spotted Will unexpectedly, across a crowded room or walking alone through Zephrah. He’d kept a folder with the letters Will sent him, each more affectionate than the last, the most recent of their number still able to make him blush. The nights spent together had not yet become habitual, each one a unique and well-trodden memory.

Love was strange, Orym had thought at the time - this thing between them may have been new, but his wellspring of feelings for Will had existed far longer, as familiar to him as breathing. He’d never realized that love, once requited, came with such dizzying fear, nor such hopeful euphoria. He’d think of Will for no reason and feel himself flush down the back of his neck; he’d remember one of their evenings and hide his face in his hands, too overcome with reliving the memory. He and Will had trained for the guard together for years, working together day in and day out. How could he have known a person so well and also been continually surprised by him, day after day?

That particular day, he’d met Will on a hill overlooking Zephrah. It was early in a humid summer evening, warmth already crawling its way down Orym’s back, and the hum of cicadas had provided a background chorus to their date. Will had brought a blanket and placed it on the grass, a simple picnic dinner laid out in front of them, and Orym found himself marveling at how easy it was to sit there and eat, carry on a normal conversation about work, even as he felt as though he was going to burst out of his own skin. Will would lean over with a grape between his fingers, pressing it against Orym’s lips in the allusion of a kiss, and Orym would be gone.

The hour had grown late, dusk bringing with it the first scattering of stars. Will recalled a childhood memory; Orym told a story about his day. They’d sipped sweet peach juice together, only available in season; the brightness of the flavor had matched the flare in Orym’s heart whenever he’d caught Will watching him.

“I love the stars,” Will said, staring up at the sky. His face had been handsome in profile, and Orym hadn’t want to tear his gaze from it.

Orym remembered laughing. “I know,” he’d replied fondly. Will had hardly talked of anything else when they’d met outside at night. Sometimes he’d walked into trees because he’d been too busy gazing up at the waterfall of starlight in the sky to notice his surroundings.

Orym loved him.

So even though he’d heard this before, he nudged himself closer to Will on the blanket, curling into him even in the summer heat and leaning back on his hands to mirror Will’s posture. “Teach me your favorites?”

A particularly bright star had winked on the horizon. Will smiled, pointing to it. “That’s the Raven’s Heart. The sign of the Matron. It rises in the east all summer, right at dusk. It’s how I know summer is here, when I start seeing it.”

“Did you know that the constellations change, depending on where you are on the planet?” Orym had asked, gazing up at the sky himself. Back then, he had not traveled beyond Zephrah; he’d never felt the urge, not until afterwards. “The Tempest told me once. But even though they’re in different places or can be seen at different times, they’re all in the same patterns.” He smiled. “There’s something comforting in that, to know that wherever you are on Exandria, you’re under the same stars.”

“And the same moons,” Will added, pointing at the faint red glow in the sky. “Look. It’s you.”

Orym had not been expecting such a comment, lured in by the cozy evening, the dreamy conversation. He hadn’t been sure how he’d felt about being compared to the malevolent-feeling red moon that occasionally hung on the horizon. “It’s me?” he repeated carefully.

Will had glanced over at him, his smile never fading. “Little moon,” he said. His finger moved to point at Catha. “Big moon. That’s me.”

Orym’s mouth had become suddenly dry. He could still remember the feeling of being overcome with the depth of his love for the man next to him. “Big moon, little moon,” he’d repeated, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as it felt. “I like it.” He’d paused for a moment. “Even if I have to be the ill omen.”

Will turned suddenly, leaning down to look deep in Orym’s eyes. He’d been backlit by moonlight; it glinted off of his hair. Without consciously deciding to do so, Orym had found himself reaching up to tangle one hand in his thick curls.

“You’re not an ill omen,” Will murmured. “Not to me.” He’d leaned down and kissed Orym, right there under Ruidus’s watchful eye, and Orym could still remember the shape of his smile as he returned the kiss. If there had been anyone who could have overcome an ill omen, it had been Will.

Orym stared up at Ruidus again, only a faint smudge of crimson on the horizon. It was ten years later - ten wonderful, horrible, grief-filled years. Ruidus had turned into something comforting, a reminder of Will that would last long after Orym’s own lifetime. Maybe it served as an ill omen for others - but for Orym, the little moon was nothing but happy memories and kisses in the dark.

“Chet and I have next watch,” said Ashton, startling Orym out of his reverie. He focused his poor vision in the dark, taking in the glint of starlight off of a familiar hammer. “Where’s Fearne?”

Orym soundlessly pointed in the direction of the clearing nearby, where Fearne had set herself up to dig joyfully through a bag she’d lifted from a shopkeeper in a nearby town, lit with a backlight of glowing fae fire that Orym had hoped wouldn’t attract local predators. “I think I wasn’t interesting enough,”  Orym confided with a smile.

“I’ll get her. You should get some sleep,” Ashton said, heading off to the clearing to tell Fearne as well. He stopped, pausing for a moment. “Don’t brood too much, okay?” They didn’t wait for an answer before heading off in Fearne’s direction.

Orym watched them go, feeling a denial that he’d been brooding on the tip of his tongue. Instead of arguing - Ashton would have just taken that as confirmation anyway - he made his way back to his bedroll, curling into it and wishing, again, for the feeling of Will’s arms around him, just one more time. It had been years. He was starting to suspect that he would carry that yearning for the rest of his life.

He felt someone larger settle at his side, radiating the comforting sense of a nearby source of warmth. “You can cuddle, if you like,” Fearne whispered. Orym didn’t answer as he curled into her, grateful for the incredible, undefinable friendships he’d never dreamed of having, back in a world where he’d been a simple married guard in Zephrah.

The crimson sphere of Ruidus flashed for the space of a heartbeat, just as Orym drifted into sleep.

[lemonykoo]

night terrors - diluc

Pairing: Husband!Diluc x Reader

Genre: Angst for the most part.

Word Count: 3.2k

Notes: Inspired after an episode of Chicago Med. Diluc has been having very vivid nightmares recently and he hates that they’re all too realistic. After overhearing a conversation between you and his brother, though, he realizes that they’re much more real than he could’ve ever imagined – especially when he realizes he’s the one behind your burns. Mentions of: injuries, burns, Diluc has ptsd (I guess?), accidental abuse? (it’s purely accidental, I swear), vague mentions of death and Diluc’s backstory.

The same scene that Diluc had relived for the past umpteen years was back again tonight, tormenting him once more until dream-him finally gave up and was defeated. Everyone has said time was supposed to heal, but the images of his father’s death were always much more vivid each time they resurfaced. As Diluc’s birthday approached and the memory of that fateful day began to fester like an infected wound, the occasional nightmare became an every-night occurrence. He figured that they’d come to pass, though, like they always did, but this time was different. His birthday and the lost memory of his dad came and went, but the nightmares remained. They weren’t just nightmares anymore, either. They were worse, stirring Diluc in the middle of the night in a cold sweat as the feeling of impending doom tore through his body.

Thankfully, you were always there for him. You’d cheer him up whenever he needed a word of encouragement. If you saw just the slightest tear forming in his eye, you’d comfort him, giving him all the love and reassurance he needed in order to know that everything was going to be okay. Even when his nightmares jerked him awake at the earliest hours, you’d be awake to calm him down and bring him back to earth. He was starting to think you had your own vision or some sort of power, allowing you to know when exactly you needed to wake up so you could comfort your trembling husband. It seemed just a little too perfect to him, but he dismissed it as just being your intuition.

Diluc yawned, walking into your shared bathroom to get ready for the day. “Good morning, darling,” he lazily murmured, planting a gentle kiss to the side of your temple as you brushed your hair.

“Good morning to you, too,” you greeted leaning into his warm embrace. This was your favorite part of the day – waking up to lazy smiles and innocent kisses as you both prepared for the day ahead of you together. You never wanted the mornings to end, but unfortunately, you both had matters to attend to.

Your husband embraced you for a bit, still in the process of waking up, until he finally released you with a satisfied sigh. He stepped away and toward the sink to wash up, but something caught his eye. On your arm, just a little above your elbow was what appeared to be a small burn. He hummed, giving you a concerned look. “Where did that come from?”

“Huh?” You followed his gaze to the spot on your arm and you brushed it off with a wave of your hand. “Oh, just a little battle scar from my commissions yesterday. No biggie.”

“Yes, biggie,” he grumbled. “I’ve told you time and time again to be more careful when you go on your commissions. And, if anything, come get me to help you. You know I will.”

“Please,” you joked, giving him a bright smile. “You should’ve seen the other guy!”

Diluc rolled his eyes, but a small smile appeared on his face as he got out his toothbrush. “Anyways,” you continued, styling your hair for the day quickly beside him, “I have an early appointment with the Guild, so I’ll be seeing you later tonight.” This time was your turn to kiss him, though you weren’t tall enough to reach his temple and instead settled for his cheek. You went to leave, calling out goodbye behind you, but he grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you back to him.

“Uh-uh,” he said, his toothbrush interfering with him saying much else. He quickly spat out the foamy suds and pulled you closer to land a series of kisses on your lips before sending you off on your way. Did you really think you could leave without those?

The more days passed; the more nightmares tormented Diluc. Oddly enough, he also noticed more burns and scrapes on your body. He had to sit you down one day and asked what you could possibly be doing to get these marks all over you, but you just shrugged it off as being from your fearless fights against the monsters lurking around Mondstadt. “I will gladly have a chat with Cyrus at the Guild and tell him you need easier commissions if it’ll mean you’ll come home uninjured.” You reassured him that there was no need for that, and you’d be more careful on your quests.

However, one night he had a particularly awful nightmare – one worse than ever before. He had cried out in his sleep multiple times and couldn’t be awakened until he had lived that day over and over and over again in his mind. It pained you to see him this way and you wished you could do something to alleviate him of this burden. Diluc was always so strong and heroic around everyone, but you knew that not everyone can be the hero all the time. Yet, this doesn’t mean you wanted him to break down into tears in the middle of the night in your lap because the memory of his father won’t stop haunting him. You would never want him to go through this or anyone for that matter.

He was better in the morning. He woke up after you yet again, something that had become the norm after he started experiencing the nightmares more frequently. You were already getting ready and he watched you pull on your clothes as you stood in front of the dresser. In the midst of admiring you from his spot on the bed, he noticed something new. He could barely see it from the angle he had, but once you turned to view yourself in the mirror in front of you, he gulped, jumping out from underneath the covers.

“Darling,” he exclaimed, hurriedly rushing toward you as you looked at him, confused. He gently grabbed your shoulders and turned you around so he could see a patch of burned skin on your torso, blistered and obviously painful. He blinked, his brows furrowing in worry as he looked at it in the mirror as if needing a second opinion on if what he was seeing was truly there. “What… how?”

“It… it’s nothing,” you stammered, shaking off the grip he had on you and throwing on your sweater. Your demeanor was a bit off this morning, but he looked past that. You had a rough night, too, he was sure. “I’m going to the Church this morning to make sure it’s not um, that bad.”

Diluc looked at you as if you had just grown an extra limb right in front of him. “Y/N, even I can tell that it is that bad. How did this happen? Why did it happen?”

You hesitated for a second before biting your lip. “Just uh, an Abyss Mage incident. I got it taken care of, though.” You grabbed your boots and slipped them on. “I have to-”

“Why didn’t you ask for my help like I told you to? Especially if it was dealing with Abyss Mages? You know how dangerous they are.” His hands balled into fists before he released them with an exasperated sigh. He meant well; you knew that. All he wanted was to have you safe. “I can’t have you getting hurt, Y/N. Not if I can’t help it – especially if I can’t help it.”

“I know,” you answered. “It won’t happen again, though. I just didn’t have good backup yesterday. Next time I find myself in a situation like that, I promise I’ll get you before I do anything.”

“Please do.” He was practically begging at this point as he continued to stare at the spot on your body where your new burn was. Something told him that you weren’t telling the whole truth, but why would you lie about that? And, why do you keep getting burned? Out of all the elements in the world of Teyvat, you seem to only attract pyro. Maybe that’s how you got stuck with him?

Later that night, you were sitting at the bar in Angel’s Share in between Diluc’s infamous brother and Calvary Captain, Kaeya, and a drunk bard dressed in green, Venti. Diluc was behind the bar, serving up drinks as the orders came through, while Venti had you hanging on his every word as he told you some story that seemed too far-fetched to be real. Diluc would much rather you hang around a different crowd, but at least you were right here where he could see you to make sure no one (Kaeya, especially) tried to do anything to you. But when he turned around after making a bunch of drinks, he noticed you and Kaeya had disappeared while Venti gestured to his empty glass.

“Another round, Master Diluc?” the bard asked, grinning brightly as he picked up his glass and shoved it toward the unamused bartender. When Diluc hesitated to answer at first, Venti quickly batted his eyes a couple of times.

“Sure. After you tell me where your drinking buddy took Y/N,” Diluc said, placing his hands on the counter to give Venti a displeased look.

“He didn’t take her anywhere,” Venti answered, setting his glass down. “Actually, she took him outside. She said something like she needed to talk to him about something. Can I have my fifth round, now?”

“Get it yourself,” Diluc grumbled, too focused on getting to where you and his awfully mischievous brother could have disappeared to. He trusted you, just not his brother. But according to Venti… maybe you just needed to ask something of the Knights. Although, Diluc would disapprove of that, too.

Stepping out into the fresh air of the City of Freedom, Diluc looked around but didn’t see either of you around front. He did hear talking, however, from around back. Careful not to alert you two that he was approaching, he quietly walked around the corner of the tavern until you two were in his sights.

“I don’t know what to do, Kaeya,” you sighed. “I just wanted to ask you since I figured you might know the most about him. He’s your brother after all.”

Kaeya made an amused noise, shrugging. “I’m sure he’d rather me not be. We haven’t been on good terms in a while, so I’m probably not the one you should be asking advice from. I’m assuming you haven’t told him?”

“I can’t tell him,” you said. “Especially with how hard things have been on him. It would make it worse.”

Was there something going on that Diluc didn’t know about? His heartbeat seemed to echo loudly in his ears as he continued to eavesdrop on your conversation. Surely you weren’t doing anything behind his back, right?

“I understand,” Kaeya reassured. “But if you don’t say anything, things won’t get better.”

“I know,” you whined. There was a pause and then a sniffle. “I’m just scared.” Your voice was shaky and Diluc knew you were crying, even if your backs were to him. He watched his brother drape his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. It was an odd sight to him, but then again you were often the go-between for the two when they weren’t in the mood to communicate to each other directly. “I’m scared that if I don’t tell him, he’ll hurt me again and it’ll be worse, but I’m scared that if I do tell him, he’ll leave or, or-” You didn’t continue speaking after that, instead opting out to cry into Kaeya’s shoulder as he rubbed your arm comfortingly.

Diluc… had hurt you? When did he-

And suddenly it all came rushing back to him. All the nights he’d have awful dreams, you’d wake up with a new mark – a new burn. The one from this morning that took up the side of your torso appeared after last night when one of his worst dreams occurred. He felt sick to his stomach as he realized that it was him this whole time. It wasn’t a Hilichurl or an Abyss Mage. It was him, and he wasn’t even aware or conscious to know it.

He turned and quickly went back inside the bar, abruptly shutting the place down for the night. This couldn’t be happening. This was all just another awful dream and he’d wake up and you’d be fine and-

“Diluc? Are you ready to go?”

Your soft voice cut through everything and he tore himself from his anxieties. He opened his eyes and saw that it was just you in the tavern now, looking at him with concern from your spot by the door. With a sigh, he nodded and made his way around the bar to leave with you, shutting the tavern down until tomorrow night.

The trek back to the winery was a quiet one as Diluc refused to hold your hand. He kept a great length of space in between you two and every time you’d attempt to move closer or grab his hand, he’d move away. He was afraid of what he was capable of now and he didn’t want to hurt you anymore. All the promises he made to you about your safety and well-being weighed heavily on him. He couldn’t believe he had broken all of them just like that.

“Honey, are you okay?” you asked. “Did something happen?”

Yes. All my greatest fears have come true and there’s nothing I can do. “No. I’m just ready to get home.”

You nodded, though you could tell that he wasn’t telling you the whole truth. “Oh, okay. Me too.” You nervously laughed before directing your line of sight to the ground instead of the road ahead of you. Diluc thought of how you lied to him all those times about your injuries – how hard it must have been for you to let your husband hurt you and not say anything. Tears burned in the corners of his eyes but he didn’t let them drop. He was going to be calm and quiet about this. The staff at the winery would be home when you two returned, so he didn’t have to worry about anyone interfering.

When you two made it back to the winery, you were startled by Diluc stopping you from going upstairs. “I need to talk to you,” he said. His words were choked out and forced. Something was wrong.

“Okay,” you calmly stated, though he could hear the worry in your tone. “What about?”

“How long have I been hurting you?”

You blinked, your brows furrowing and a look of disbelief crossing your face. Diluc looked up and met your eyes, realizing you were on the verge of crying, too. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t lie to me anymore, Y/N. I heard you talking to Kaeya tonight.” He took a deep breath before pointing to your side. “That was me. That wasn’t an Abyss Mage. I… I hurt you.”

You wiped your eyes as tears started to run down your cheeks. “Diluc, you were having a bad dream. You couldn’t help-”

“You said you’re scared of me,” he said. He couldn’t bear to look at you anymore, because every time he did, images of him lashing out in his sleep at unexpecting you made him feel sick. He felt shameful. He could only imagine you just trying to console him as he dealt with his nightmares, only for him to use his vision against you, burning you. He wondered if you had cried, cradling your wounds because they hurt but you couldn’t ask Diluc to bandage them because he had caused them. “Don’t make excuses for me. I hurt you. I can’t… I can’t take that back.”

You reached forward to try to hug him – possibly to comfort the both of you – but he pushed you away. “Don’t touch me,” he grunted, his voice sharp. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Y/N. I told you that I’d never hurt you and yet I did. I promised you that, yet I did it anyway. I can’t be forgiven.”

“Diluc, you didn’t mean to. I know you didn’t. I know you would never intend to hurt me and it was just because of your dreams. I forgive you because this wasn’t you. And I’ll forgive you thousand times over and over and over again.” You fell quiet before sighing. “It’s okay, Diluc. It’s okay.”

A low sob was all you heard and your heart ached as you watched him crumple to the floor on his knees. Without a second thought, you dropped down to your knees, too, and took him into your arms, holding him as tight as you could. You were both quiet for a while, except for the quiet sobbing from the both of you.

When your own cries settled down, you pulled away and pressed a kiss to Diluc’s forehead. “Please, don’t do anything crazy because of this. I didn’t want you to know because I knew you’d hate yourself. I knew you’d try to push me away and if that’s what you need to do to get better, for the time being, that’s okay. But I want you in my life. I want to be in your life. Just… just don’t think you need to leave and run away from this for it to get better. We can go through it together, like everything else.”

His arms were laced around you, holding you carefully. He didn’t want to let go, but part of him told him that if he continued to hold you, he’d cause you to get hurt again. “How can you not hate me?” he asked quietly.

“Because I know that you’d never intend to hurt me if you were awake. I understand that you didn’t know what you were doing in the moment.” You ran a hand through his fiery red hair, hoping to bring him as much comfort as you possibly could.

“Y/N, I love you,” he said quickly as if he thought he wouldn’t have enough time to say it.

“I love you too, Diluc,” you answered, pressing another kiss to his temple.

“I love you so much and I’m sorry that I’ve done this to you.”

“Honey, it’s okay. It’ll heal and everything will be better again.”

He pulled away and looked at you. “I… I don’t want to sleep with you for the time being. If I…” He shut his eyes tight, not even bearing to say what he was thinking, but he pressed on. “If I hurt you again, I couldn’t… I just couldn’t.”

“Whatever you think is best, honey.” You reached forward and grabbed his hands, running your fingers over his gloved fingertips. “Please don’t push me away, though. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Diluc watched your hands fiddle with his before he pulled you toward him so he could kiss you. It was a lingering kiss that told each other everything the other wanted to say at the moment but didn’t have the strength to. As the two of you sat huddled on the floor, Diluc knew that he would never forgive himself for doing this to you. But, he found comfort knowing that you still loved and forgave him and would let him redeem himself in the days to come.