#I wrote like an person gave to an frog in hands an pen and say to him to write

[lestire-de-morningstar]

Long Blog: Lost Boys Con/Afterparty of August 20-21, 2022 with Video & Pictures

This has been the highlight of my year, after being self-isolated in my home due to health anxiety. I'm a big fan of the Lost Boys and have a crush on David. I used to say that the only way I would leave my house is if Kiefer Sutherland would show up, and life basically asked, "How's about almost everyone else?" The fact that if you get into the afterparty, you can see Tom Mac and Corey Feldman perform, made this more irresistible. As a vampire and Lost Boys fan, I felt I was obligated to go. I immediately got The Frog Brothers VIP tickets, which allowed me to go both days and came with table photos, autographs, professionsl frog brothers photograph, tote bag, shirt, posters, stickers, buttons, and afterparty passes.

After going to the con in my walking Victorian outfit, we went to get our bracelets, vouches, stickers, buttons, poster and the shirt. They didn't have the tote bags yet, unfortunately. There was a few selections for the shirt, but this one was the only one in black and I knew I wouldn't wear it out otherwise.

The first person I saw was Jason Patric, who played Michael. He was in a room that was separated from the rest of the cast, who all had booths out in an area, which they called the Broadwalk (loved the name), like at your usual cons. I was the first in line and waited while he was getting ready. When he came out, my mum said, "Hey, Michael. Where's your glasses?" That made him laugh. We talked about the show and I asked him about the flying scenes and the fall from the bridge. He said that they used harnesses for flying, as I thought, and they really did fall off a bridge with a machine that created the frog to make it look like it was a longer fall than what it was. We then talked about Sutherland for a bit, and he said that he sometimes just shows up to these events, but this time he probably won't, because he is busy doing something else. We took a picture and signed my DVD that I brought with me. At first, he used a red pen and wrote something like: "Melissa - Thank you for all of your support! - Jason Patric." My mum immediately put it in a ziplocked bag, while I was saying my goodbyes and getting a hug from him, which made me anxious. My feelings were confirmed when I quickly took it out to see the marker had smeared. "Oh no," I gasped, which got the attention of the worker that was next to him. After he was finished with the next person in line, the worker told him about the autographed being smeared. The DVD was wiped off and this time he signed it with a black marker as "Melissa - you're favorite movie, thank you - Jason Patric." He started writing his name at the bottom, before I could let him know other people were going to sign it, so I took a picture of it before it got crazy and I would forget which part was his.

Next, I went to the broadwalk and meet Ve Neill, who was the makeup artist for the movie. She also did Beetlejuice, Pirates of the Caribbean, Edward Scissorhands, and more. The first thing she said when I walked up to her was that she loved my dress. Already off to a great start! I basically asked how much creative power did she have over the work, and she explain that there was a team, obviously, but how she said it works isn't fresh in my mind enough to write. We took a picture and she signed a photo I picked out from the table as "To Melissa, Love Love - Ve Neill." She then said that she loved my hair and asked if those were my real nails and if she could she them. To those that don't know me in real life, I have vampire nails with the longest being roughly 2 inches long (just took out a measuring tape). And yes, they are real. I gave her my hand for a closer look, as she felt them and stared in awe, before saying that they were beautiful.

I believe at this point, G. Tom Mac and Jamison Newlander were busy with professional photoshoots. It was getting close to the time for the Frog Brothers photoshoot, and after asking around, I found out it was delayed, because Corey Feldman wasn't there yet. While I waited, I went upstairs to my favorite witch shop and to see my friend that used to work there (and hopefully I will too someday). We hugged and briefly talked. While I was there, I bought two incense called "Vampire's Orchid" and "Dracula's Blood," which smells great and would add a special touch to my work.

To kill more time, I went looking at a few vendors. One had a vampiric display for photoshoots that had coffin with a removable lid. Of course, I had to take some photos and the nice owner helped me in the coffin with my long dress. I had a few more photo ideas, but didn't want to take up too much time, and couldn't find them again after that day. I wonder which shop that was and where they went.

When I went back to the broadwalk, they were all there, except for Newlander. I went to see G Tom Mac first, and the first thing I said was how much I loved the "Cry Little Sister" song. We took a table photo and he signed my DVD with "To Melissa - Cry Little Sister - G Tom Mac." He also had copies of the original draft of the song, and about four CDs of the musical. When I saw the CD, I gasped and asked, "There is a musical?" He explained that it was set to be performed, but Covid pushed back the production. I bought the CD, but not an additional autograph for it, and told him that I was a theatre actor and I can't believe I never heard of this before. "Here, let me sign it too," he said and autographed it for free as "To Melissa, you rock, little sister! - G Tom Mac." When he handed it to me, he told me that I need to go home and listen to it and tell him what thought if I did, and he'll also be performing the songs live at the afterparty.

Next, I met Billy Wright, who played Dwayne. We briefly talked and he asked how did I find out about the film, and I told him that I always loved fictional vampires and I'm involved in the vampire community, which this film is famous amongst and labeled as a must see. When asked if I wanted to purchase photos/autographs, I said that already prepaid for them, but it was for tomorrow and I just wanted to say hi for today. We said goodbye and that he'll see me tomorrow.

By this time, Jamison Newlander was at his table and I went to see him. He was probably the highlight of the con and we joked around a lot. When he saw me, he said that I was the most obvious vampire he has ever seen. We took a picture and I gave him my DVD to sign. He asked what he should write and I suggested his favorite quote. He said that he suddenly forgot all of the quotes. Then, he asked, "How's about 'Shit! It's the attack of Eddie Munster?'" I said, "That's perfect, because I'm a vampire." He shortened the autograph to "It's the attack of Eddie Munster! xo - Jamison Newlander" to make room. After he finished, he jokingly said, "A vampire around a frog brother. That's dangerous." We laughed, and then I asked about Corey Feldman and the photoshoot. The worker told me that he still wasn't there.

While I was walking around, I saw two people that looked very much like David and Michael. Of course, I had to take a picture of them. I also asked if they were best friends, but apparently, they just met at the con and people kept asking to take pictures with both of them, so they just stuck together.

Eventually, Corey Feldman showed up, while everyone else seemed to be putting stuff away for the day. Here, I found out his tour bus broke down. He was in a room separated from everyone else, like Patric, and the line was long. There was also a VIP line that would get in quicker, but the man at the door said I needed another type of VIP pass. A woman in the VIP line said that we belonged with them, because I have the VIP Frog Brothers pass and kept gesturing us over. My mum didn't want to stand in a long line if we didn't have to, and further convinced me to get in that line. When we were in front, the man said he saw us cut the line and we can't be doing that, and once again told us to go in the other line. Now, we were at the end of a very long line, which didn't seem to be moving. So, we went back to the office area and asked if we can come tomorrow, since Feldman came late. They moved our picture day to the next day and told us we can skip the line this time. It's a good thing we did that, because I later found out on Facebook that Feldman stood till midnight greeting fans. What a nice guy.

The next day, we quickly went to the office to see if the tote bag came, which it didn't, and get the pre-paid meet and greet for Billy Wright. Since the photoshoot wasn't happening yet, I went straight to see him again. We briefly talked, took a picture, and I gave him the DVD to sign. When he saw it, he said, "Wow, there's a lot of signatures here. Are you sure you're going to have room for the others?" So, he just signed his name right under the beginning of Tom Mac's autograph. I asked if he was also going to be at the afterparty, and he said that he might for a little while.

I went up to everyone one last time. G Tom Mac asked if I had listened to the album yet, and I confessed that I didn't; I was too tired and went straight to bed. He said that he'll be performing it at the club, so I get to experience it live. Ve Neill once again complemented me about my hair, and we hugged one last time. She thought it was sweet that I came by to say bye to her.

Then, we went to stand in line for the Frog Brothers photoshoot. We were one of the first ones there, so we got in faster. I haven't met Feldman yet, but Newlander recognized me immediately. We stood in front of a green screen and took the picture. Afterwards, Newlander said, "That's pretty risky of you, for a vampire to be this close to the Frog brothers. I could stake you." He spoke the last sentence while making a staking gesture towards me, which made me laugh and say, "The idea is to become your friends, so you won't do that." I didn't get the prints immediately, because they had technological difficulties and told me to come back later.

Next, we immediately stood in the fastest line for Corey Feldman's meet and greet. Since they were still doing the group photos, it took a while. While in line, I talked to someone that had the same passes as I did, and overheard someone say they go to every Sutherland event they can and got a bit jealous. A Victorian-like vampire couple walked by us, and I stopped them to take a picture of them and get their instagram account (@zevalud). "Have a fang-tasic night," the girl said as she walked away. While this happened, the line moved without us and I became the only one in the fastest lane.

Once I got in, a girl took my tickets for him and marked me for only getting the autograph. When I tried to explain to her that the VIP gets both, she showed me my ticket and said, "Well, the office only marked your ticket for the autograph." The man that I talked to before, who was now in front of me, said that I should have gotten the photo too. We were lead into a room with his booth, where there was two lines, and he alternated from autographs to pictures after every ten people. Before I met him, they told me to keep the conversation minimal, since he has a lot of people to get through. I gave him the DVD to sign and told him that I also loved him in Gremlins. He thanked me and said that it was also fun to shoot, while he signed the middle of the DVD as "To Melissa, my love - Corey Feldman 22." After he signed it, the next worker asked if I'm also getting a picture with him, and I replied, "I don't know. I have the VIP Frog Brothers pass." He told me that it came with it and put me in that line, so I guess I got it anyway. I was about to angrily march to the office and ask them if it was a mistake, then quickly go back with the correct markings, but this saved me some time. We hugged and I took a picture with him. Afterwards, he jokingly said, "Wait. Hey, you forgot to smile." I laughed and played along, saying, "Oh no, I guess I need to take another one."

While walking around again, I saw the one cosplaying as David again. He said to meet him by his store with the pinball machine, if we wanted to talk, because he'll be over there soon. It took me a while to find him, since I thought I was looking for a store rather than a vendor. Once I found him, we talk and became friends. I found out that his name is Michael (ironically), he owns a store called Michaels Horror and Pins and is the lead for a band called Malicide. I then got an idea to take a picture of him biting me, which he gladly did and the picture came out great. I wish I didn't need the mask, but all well.

Michael had already gotten his professional photo back, so I went back to the room to check on the progress of mine. They had it working again, but it was slow and would take a while to get to mine. While I waited, I walked around, looking at all the cool vendors. There was one (Gothic Yoga) that was selling gothic perfume, including one called "The Vampire's Kiss," which I later purchased. The owner of that shop was really nice and gave me bat fridge magnet, which I kept staring at, for free. There was also another shop that sold perfume that I loved, but didn't buy anything from, and I wish I had name.

Another shop that I recalled was owned by @koffin_kitty_ on Instagram, who is also really nice and is talented with makeup and paintings. She has plenty of artwork, some completely original and others of famous characters.

Her sister, I think, also bakes and they have some delicious treats there for sale. After looking at all the vendors, we sat down. Eventually, one of them came up to us with some cakes, before they packed up, and said they didn't want to take too many home and saw us looking at them before. That was really sweet of them. There was two cupcakes (one had eyes and the other looked like blood and glass), a chocolate cake pop that looks red with a bunch of eyes, a vanilla cake pop that ironically looks like it would be chocolate and had green-ish sprinkles on top, and two pieces of gingerbread cake that I forgot to take a picture of before eating it up.

After we snacked and rested, we went back to the room again for my photo, which, as you'd probably guessed, didn't come in yet. At this point, there was nothing else to do, so I just waited in the room for it to be finished. Eventually, they said they would just bring them to the afterparty and would give them to us there.

By the time we got to the bus, it was too late to stop for something to eat, as originally planned, and we had to go straight to the afterparty. There was already a line, but as time went on, we were basically towards the front. Someone in front was smoking, which I'm allergic to, so I turned around. This is when the girl behind me complemented me on my dress and she was with her husband. Then, the girl that was previously smoking joined in the conversation, and she brought her friend in. I got everyone's social media/numbers and asked if anyone had a charger, since my phone was going to go dead. The girl's friend said he can use his car to charge it up, so we went with him and talked, before one of my new friends told us they were opening the doors. It charged some, but not much, and we went back in line to go in.

The place looked amazing; there was lights, a dance floor, a few tables and chairs on the sides and, of course, a stage. Ve Neill was standing towards the entrance and said hi to me. A lot of people already claimed seats, so it took me a bit to find an empty chair to relax in. The vampire couple passed me by, but this time, the man had a wolf head on. The first band that played was Murder by Love. At one point the lead yelled in the mic, "Who wants to sleep tonight?!" Everyone was either amused or briefly confused. Then, he said, "Some guy in the back actually raised his hand and went 'YEAH!' And, he has a Ghostbrothers backpack with I think a sleeping bag. Dude, that's lame. This is The Lost Boys; we never sleep!" My mum and I thought that was funny. Not as funny while writing it though; maybe it's his timing and voice.

After two of their songs, the first friend that I met came up to me and asked me to dance. The friends I just met, the Victorian vampire couple, and I were all dancing together on the dance floor. Eventually, Newlander was dancing with us too. After Murder by Love was finished, the club played a few songs and he got really into "Blinding Lights." I had to film that I danced with a Frog brother, or else no one would believe me. I also saw Billy Wright came for a few moments; he was one the side, enjoying the music. The couple that I met in line also left early, sadily, even before Mac or Felman performed.

Once we heard the beginning of "Cry Little Sister" and a video playing, we all went quickly towards the stage. G Tom Mac took the stage and was performing the music from the musical, as he said he would. I wished I would have listen to the songs before the second day of the con, so I can tell him how much I enjoyed it. He brought Newlander to the stage, while he performed "Frog Bro Hero." Newlander looked like he didn't know the song well enough to join in, but he was dancing and look like he was having a great time up there. That became my favorite song from the musical and I find myself needing to play it every now and then. It was catchy. He showed us the music video for "Cry Little Sister" before it came out online and when he sung that song live, it felt like a dream.

Next, Corey Feldman immediately took the stage with his band and his angelic dressed wife. Regrettably, I also never heard his music before that night either, but it was a great way to experience it for the first time. His moves reminded me of Michael Jackson and I wished Courtney Feldman would have done another song. He also invited Newlander onto the stage to sing "People are Strange" and I think that was one of my favorite moments. Also, this time, he choose the harder way to get on stage by climbing in the front and the audience was helping him up. I loved how happy he was and playing along with their requests. During Felman's performance, my camera was running out of battery and had to keep switching between that and my phone. Also, everyone just kept getting drunker and one person was really close behind me, while jumping up and down, and eventually fell. When someone kept raising their beer bottle up and splashing their drink on top of my head, I left the crowd and took my seat again to rest. My mum was there and had gotten the professional photo (finally).

Video of afterparty:

After it seemed like he was finished, I tried calling an Uber, but my phone had died on me. I went to the bar and the workers by door, asking for a charger. Everyone seemed to have an iPhone. Eventually, it sounded like Felman decided to go back on stage, after he said he was finished, but I was too focused on finding a way to get home and I kept thinking that he seems to have a lot of energy. After some time, they finally found a charger for me, and I stood charging my phone by the entrance. When I heard them finish, I quickly went back to say goodbye to Newlander. He hugged me and said that I was cool, and thanked me for dancing with him. I went back to call the Uber, but the app was misbehaving. One of the friends that I met was going to leave and notice me struggling, so he helped me get home after the girl came out, who went backstage with one of the drummers (lucky).

What about the tote bag? I eventually got it when I stopped by at another con they were doing.

Overall, this was one of the best moments of my life. I haven't been to a comic con, where the actors were so interactive with their fans and had an afterparty, plus I never meet so many new friends just by going to one con and we still talk to each other today. There was a lot of waiting and I spent a lot of money on VIP tickets, but it was all wroth it.

#lost boys #blog #comic con #jamison newlander #frog brothers #G Tom Mac #corey feldman #Ve Neill #Murder by Love #concert #live performance #vampire #victorian

[nothingbizzare]

I wanted from a lot of time to draw her !!^^

HEHE !!!

The muffet from the @omero-megane 's Au !!!^^

Was a lot of practice especially with the old dear my technic when I don't have a pen of lining the drawing with water-colors !!!Heh in rest I am pretty proud of the drawing !!^^

#nothingbizzare art #undertale au #undertale #au #multiverse #utmv #muffet #undertale au muffet #au muffet #muffet au #undertale muffet #undertale au fanart #undertale fanart #artist on tumblr #OMG I can't believe that this is my hand writing because I rare write soo beautiful because all the time #I wrote like an person gave to an frog in hands an pen and say to him to write

[i-imade-a-thing]

Amphibia Froggy Little Christmas Details

OMGGG THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST WHOLESOME EPISODE EVER! ALSO RETURN OF REBECCA SUGAR SONG HECK YES! THIS EPISODE GIVE US A LOT OF STUFF WE BEEN FED GOOD TONIGHT LADS! Spoilers & Details Below!

The intro receive some slight change!

Santa is flying his sled in the bird eye shot of LA

Multiple LA buildings get christmas decoration

The construction worker wore santa hat

BELLS BELLS BELLS

Anne's calamity form is green and pink instead of blue

Ok now on to the episode!

Anne's mom took a frog with santa hat mug out of the shelf

Andrias have several flying factories now....he really be preparing

Andrias still showing off his fun loving side....in a twisted way

REEEEEBBBBEEEECCCCCAAAAAAAA SOOONNNGGGGG

So much returning background character, i wont be listing it cuz theres a lot

One of the store sign said "Donate, or get coal"

Exactly after first part of rebecca's song ended, Anne's theme started playing

Anne's float plan wrote "elephants baby!" "aw yeah!" "cost: $0.00" and "mom will be so happy"

Ally and Jess place seems to locate at "Palm Tree Community College"

Some of the poster in Ally and Jess place include "Do and Donts", "use duct tapes", "but first, coffee", and "robot babysitting service"

There's also a binary code on the whiteboard but it's too blury for me to translate

ALLY BLUSHING AT JESS

Andrias drinking "Zap-o-rade", probably a parody of "Gatorade"

Rip Polly

One of TV selling have a sticker "suuuuuper wide"

Putting cicada's legs into cookies, just like in the episode "if you give frogs a cookie"

Some of the prototype gifts that Sprig made are Plantar's house, Chickalisk(from return to wartwood), mantis (from anne or beast), and snake (from best fronds)

THEY ALSO KEPT ANNE'S BABY TOYS IN ONE OF THE BOX

In the scene "I wasn't going to let you give up on your dream because of me" Anne's theme played

An ads sign saying "WALLMARK CHANNEL PRESENTS a Hunky Lumberjack for Christmas"

Some of the floats include "Construct a Carnivore" and Monday Cat

The microbots seemed to be based on ticks, also have multiple eyes like the core

"Ready to Rock!"

Andrias continue showing his fun loving side

"YOU BETTER WATCH OUT" *WEEZE*

Gamer rage andrias

Kinda interesting that Darcy use the word "pathetic", kinda tell about the personality

"It was the combo of jolly and murderous that make it felt special"

Reminder that Sprig love action figure, like how has it in his room (in the ep flood, sweat, and tears)

Sprig going from calling Anne a hero(anne and beast) to his hero AAHHHH SO WHOLESOME

Rebecca Sugar is wearing a ring on the left hand, thats a cool detail

The dish washing soap in the background is "Soap Holiday Edition"

There's multiple crumbled paper on the table and Anne also want to remain anonymous by signing as "a friend", both of these details mean Anne have a hard time telling Marcy's and Sasha's parents

Marcy's family mail is "the Wu family" while Sasha's are "Mr. Waybright" and "Mrs. Waybright" separately

The pen written on the mail also corresponse to the gem's color

ANNE FINALLY GAVE HER THE BUTTERFLY FROM HOPPING MALL LETS FREAKING GOOOOOO

Sprig got tarantulad action figure, Polly got a Narf gun, and HP got "How to Direct" book(continuation of Hollywood Hop Pop)

And Matt himself probably draw this

This episode is reallyyyy wholesome~ I love this episode so much! It is such a good way to end the midseason! There's so much returning characters and background characters, gave us a peak of what's to come, and wholesome character moments! Can't wait til next year!

Also thanks to you who've been reading these since I've been posting these! These types of post may not be perfect, but I'm glad some of you enjoy it!

#amphibia #froggy little christmas #amphibia details

[monsterywriting]

Thenerius - pt 4

masterlist

word count: 7,146

AN: slight warning for mentions of animal death/general farm stuff. i tried not to write anything too graphic, but i realize what may seem pg for me may not be for everyone! i think i made up for it in the end, though :)

When you arrived back home from Alfore, you made a beeline to your room, leaving Thenerius to unload what you bought. From your desk, you grab a few blank sheets of paper from your stack and a pen, writing out a list of chores for Thenerius to do with detailed instructions underneath each numbered task.

By the time you finished and returned back outside to meet Thenerius, you’d filled out two of the papers front and back.

“Do you know how to read?” You ask as you hold out the papers for him to take.

“Of course,” he scoffs as he does, scanning the pages.

You blink at his unexpected reaction, attempting to alleviate his defensiveness, “No shame if you couldn’t. Some of the wealthiest people in the capital couldn’t. That’s what they hired so many scribes for.”

“Well, I said I can,” Thenerius not quite snapped, but he was clearly getting more wound up from you pushing the subject. You realized too late that your response came across as skeptic.

“All right. I put the faster jobs first and the longer ones last,” you say instead, opting to smooth over the topic entirely, “Don’t worry about finishing all of it today, I just wrote what I could think of. I’ll be back.”

“Wait, you’re leaving again so soon?” Thenerius looked up from the list at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I have to go to The Deep,” you reply, “It will be fast, just returning something and coming back.”

“What about the rabbits?” He asked, following you into the barn. You had nearly forgotten, the four creatures sitting quietly in their cage sitting in the barn.

“Clear out one of the empty stables and put them in there. All they need is hay and clean water for now,” you worry your bottom lip before continuing, “I don’t… normally leave so often when I’m not working.”

You’re not sure where the need to explain yourself comes from, nor why you feel placated when Thenerius seemingly accepts it.

You clear your throat, taking Horse by his reins and walking out the barn, “Then you can get started on that list.”

Horse makes it immediately clear he isn’t happy to be ridden again so soon - testing your commands to move and only going forward when you press your heels into his belly - but you know he’ll calm down once you reach The Deep and bribe him with a sack full of oats.

You enter The Deep in record time through the side door near the stables that lead directly into the kitchens. There was no one in there besides the new girl, who jumped and nearly collided into the large pot she stood in front of when she turned around to see you standing there, collecting herself and whispering a near inaudible ‘hello’.

She was painfully shy and as quiet as a mouse, and you couldn’t remember her name despite knowing you’d been introduced before. She couldn’t meet your gaze directly, something you knew not to take personally as she avoided everyone’s. You couldn’t help but wonder what she would do once the tavern got busy and all available hands were needed taking and serving orders.

“I need to find Lenora,” you interrupt her rambled apologies, having no patience waiting for the girl to form a sentence, “Is she in her room?”

“Uh—actually, Mr. Thistle is looking for you,” she said, shrinking back when you blinked at her - as though you were a ticking bomb waiting to blow. It dawned on you that this was not her normal aversion to social situations, realizing everyone already knew you spat with Lenora earlier. Great.

“I understand,” you say as gently as you can, “but I need to speak with Lenora, first.”

You emphasize speak, and after a moment’s hesitation, the girl nodded, looking around before whispering, “Mr. Thistle is working at the bar right now. You have to go back around to the main entrance.”

You nod your appreciation, stepping back out and going back around the building to the entrance to the inn portion, passing the main desk with a nod to the person working and climbing up the stairs. You knock softly on Lenora’s door, not wanting to draw the attention of Mr. Thistle, who had full view of you standing on the balcony if he were to look up.

As soon as you hear the door unlock, you push your way in and close it behind you, pausing once you see Lenora’s tear-streaked face. You had been until that point rehearsing what you would say, only planning on saying your piece and then leaving. Now, however, the words eluded you, seeming simultaneously too far and too little. When you finally managed to push them out, it was with a much less certain execution than you had imagined.

“I brought back your coins,” you fish the coin purse out of your bodice and force it into Lenora’s hands, “If you were meaning to trick me into taking them, you shouldn’t have used the embroidered one I gave you.”

Lenora turned over the small bag, her mouth falling open in a small ‘o’ once she saw the leaping frog, her thumb running over the vibrantly colored thread.

“Thenerius told me you thought I was… troubled. In the mind,” you continue awkwardly, going off script, the impromptu speech bursting forth now that you were in front of your friend, “I- I understand your concern. It doesn’t excuse what you did - it was incredibly stupid - but I understand it.”

“You’re right,” Lenora sniffled, tears gathering anew in her already red eyes, “I know I don’t deserve to ask for your forgiveness, but I just didn’t know how to get through to you—so I made a decision. A bad one, that only brought you trouble.

“I heard you speaking with Mr. Thistle that day. How you needed more shifts and- and gold. I knew you wouldn’t any of out help so I thought… Thenerius would be the best bet to help.”

“I’m not… as angry,” you finally admit, taking a long pause to take in the information and form an opinion. It’s true. You know firsthand that worry and desperation can drive a person to take drastic measures, and though you can’t forgive Lenora entirely just yet, you can’t fault her in trying to help.

“Has Thenerius come back to the inn already? I’m sorry I didn’t think matters through-”

“No,” you shake your head, wording the next sentence out of your mouth very carefully, “Actually, he’s staying with us for now. He agreed to work for room and board.”

“What?!” Lenora exclaimed, her recalcitrance forgotten for the moment with the potential gossip, “Tell me everything! Have you slept together yet?”

“Not telling,” you smile coyly, trying your best to come across as though you’re hiding the most passionate night of your life, the full details of which filled with debauchery just waiting for a listening ear, “That’s your punishment.”

You leave Lenora there, her pleas for mercy and just a yes or no falling on deaf ears. Rather than head back out the main entrance, however, you go to the stairs leading down into the tavern, Mr. Thistle immediately noticing you from the bar and watching your descent closely.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you until your next shift,” he said as soon as you reached the bar counter, wasting no time getting straight to the point with his usual bluntness, “What happened between you and Lenora?”

“Personal matters, boss,” you reply with a glance at the lone customer sitting on the far end of the bar, “Sorry it happened at work. It won’t happen again.”

A blatant lie. A week couldn’t pass without someone getting annoyed at someone else at work and starting fights - most much more eventful and public than your and Lenora’s brief exchange of words.

Mr. Thistle looked up at the balcony, then at you, “I take it that means everything has already been settled. I don’t suppose you would be willing to tell me what exactly it was about, then?”

“Nope,” you answer cheerfully, “Now, it’s my day off and you very specifically said you did not want to see me for a whole week, so I’ll leave you to it.”

You could hear Mr. Thistle mutter something about how you all always closed ranks on him once you headed towards the kitchen, but he waved you off nonetheless.

“Wait!” You stopped at the sudden call of your name, just about to step outside, turning to see Lenora and the other girl holding a wrapped cylinder. Food.

You accept the gift with a nod, stepping out into the courtyard with a vastly improved state of mind and a considerable weight off your shoulders, ready to return home and finally eat.

When you do return once again for hopefully the final time that week, Thenerius was hammering away on the barn roof.

You hop off of Horse, looking up at the tiefling in disbelief. Replacing the old shingles had been the seventh or eighth item on your list and you hadn’t been gone long. You couldn’t believe Thenerius could have finished every task before that one in the time it took you to go to The Deep and back.

When he noticed your arrival, Thenerius made his way down the ladder to meet you leading Horse into the barn, still carrying the meal Lenora had packed for you. He was drenched in sweat and had shred his outer layers despite the frigid air, the sun beating down thanks to the cloudless sky.

“You’ve already finished the first page?” You called out once he was within hearing range, hopping off the last rung of the ladder and onto solid ground.

“First page?” He echoes questioningly, your stomach sinking until he lets out a sharp bark of laughter at your reaction.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You let out the breath you had held, looking out at the rest of the homestead, “You mended the fences?”

“Yes.”

“Cleaned out the chicken litter?”

“Did that first.”

“Then took it to the compost?”

“If you’d like, you can go through the list yourself to check,” Thenerius offered, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

“No. No, that’s fine,” you reply, embarrassed by your own micromanaging before remembering the food and holding it up, “I brought lunch. Go rinse off in the river or something while I reheat this.”

The house is much warmer than outside, your mother or Thenerius apparently taking advantage of the new firewood.

Thenerius enters the house just as you’re setting down the plates, looking like an illustration from a strip in a newspaper you remember seeing once - a man who fell into a freezing lake and becomes an icicle.

You peer out the window, barely noticing how dark it suddenly was, clouds obscuring the sun and the tops of the trees bowing to the wind - certainly making the trek back from the river miserable.

“Go sit in front of the fire, quickly,” you wince half with pity, grabbing one of his folded blankets and throwing it around the tiefling’s shoulders as soon as he was seated in the warm glow of the fire, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would get cloudy.”

“How the hell can anyone get in that water?” Thenerius gritted out through chattering teeth, shivering uncontrollably now that he was beginning to thaw out, “I think my stones are still inside my body…”

“The water feels quite nice in the summer,” your mother suddenly appears behind you, both you and Thenerius twisting around to stare at her slack-jawed. Her response to the former made it clear she had heard the latter comment.

You can’t contain your laughter, doubling over when you turn and see Thenerius’ mortified expression - and your mother’s amusement with the situation only fueled your own. It gave you the perfect excuse to not see how he watches you, his embarrassed grimace fading into a soft smile at your mirth while your mother watches the entire interaction with an unreadable expression.

You know she immediately catches on to the significance of Thenerius’ meaningful look, the entire reason for his sudden appearance into your lives undoubtedly obvious to her now.

“Everybody go sit,” you are still slightly winded by your outburst but considerably subdued as you walk over to your chair and plop down, taking a sip from your ale - a generous addition to the peace offering from Lenora.

The smell of the warm stew was heavenly for your senses - beef tips, carrot and potatoes all cooked in bone broth - making your mouth water at the sight. Cows were rare in these parts, Mr. Thistle the only owner of a herd for miles. Beef was the primary dish of The Deep, Mr. Thistle also offering deliveries during the holidays for those who had the gold to spend on it.

“Did Lenora make this?” Your mother breathed in deeply, both her and Thenerius clearly having the same reaction to the food as you did.

You shake your head, wasting no time taking a spoonful in your mouth, “The new girl. Applied to be a barmaid, but truthfully, her talents are as a cook.”

“The quiet one?” Your mother smiled knowingly, “I must agree she’s much better than you or I, though you’ve been making some improvements.”

You roll your eyes at the teasing jab, mirroring her smile as you chuckled. You weren’t a bad cook, but you were no chef, your own cooking style having only a goal of ‘edible’, “I helped in part, at least - harvesting the meat.”

“You slaughtered the animal?” Thenerius interjects - no judgement in his tone but definitely curiosity.

“Of course,” you laugh, nearly choking on your ale in the process, “Where do you think all the meat you’ve been eating comes from? A grocer?”

The conversation continues easily, your bellies filling with seconds and then thirds with ale still left over. You notice that Thenerius stops drinking long before your mother or you. It’s because he isn’t in the company of his crew, you try to tell yourself, but you can’t help the feeling of guilt that gnaws at you saying otherwise - that he was able to stop now that you weren’t continuously serving him.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” your mother grunts, gathering the empty plates before you can even think about getting up. You’re all too happy to let her, glad to see her so invigorated for the first time in a long while. You yourself feel your eyelids begin to grow heavy, the sheer amount of food you consumed beckoning for you to take a nap.

“I should keep working on the list, too,” Thenerius said, beginning to rise.

You place your hand on the crook of his elbow to stop him, “You’ve been up since before dawn and you’ve gotten plenty done today. You shouldn’t overwork yourself now.”

“I’ve had harder jobs. I can handle some farm work,” Thenerius snorted, dismissing your advice and standing without so much as a grunt as though to prove his point, “I’m a pirate, remember?.”

You shrug, too sleepy to seriously argue with his pride. Farm work was definitely different to manning a boat with the wind and current doing most of the work. And he also had an entire crew to rely on - here it was just him and you. The first day you worked on the homestead after so many years, you hadn’t been able to get out of bed the next day. However, you decide as Thenerius leaves to finish the shingles, it was no skin off your back if he woke up sore the next day. Either way, he was still going to work - he had to help you castrate the goats, along with all the other daily chores and whatever you wouldn’t get to on the list today.

You grab two woven baskets from the kitchen and go outside soon after Thenerius leaves, wishing the sun was still out as you walk to the vegetable garden downhill behind the pasture, a buffer between the animals’ waste and the river when it rained.

The rest of your very short afternoon is spent there, meticulously going down each row on your hands and knees pulling out the seemingly endless weeds that grew in your absence, tossing them onto the grass. Once you were confident that you got every last sprout, you began to harvest some of the tubers, yielding a good amount of carrots, potatoes and even a few onions.

Once the sun kissed the treetops and you were engulfed in the shadow of the barn from where you worked in the garden, you began the long process of drawing a bath, hauling bucket after bucket to the house. The sun sets by the time you finish, the water steaming invitingly. Your mother goes first, and you enter right after her.

You relax in the hot water, perfectly contented with your day and more at ease than you had been in a long time, something you couldn’t have imagined when Thenerius first showed up at your home and upended your quiet existence. You look up at the heavens, still able to make out the vast array of stars even through the steam rising to the sky. You watch in quiet awe for a while, only absentmindedly attending to actually bathing.

You only just stepped out the bathroom when Thenerius finally returns, your mother nearly done with dinner.

He seemed in high spirits, nowhere near as fatigued as you had been on your first day. You would never admit that you were wrong to Thenerius, but you definitely weren’t complaining if it meant he would be able to work the next day.

You go  to sleep early, eating while Thenerius was bathing and fast asleep by the time he gets out, tired after all the running around and the emotional mountains and valleys you endured with Lenora.

You don’t dream that night, waking suddenly with the sun still well below the horizon and the rooster not yet crowing his song. You get up anyways, actually feeling well-rested and not nearly as dreadful as you normally did after your days off, having done admittedly little hard labor yourself that day.

After changing into clean day clothes, you trudge into the kitchen to make coffee, Thenerius still snoring in his cot as you pass. He sleeps through the rooster’s first crow, and you let him rest until the morning fog receded from the field and the sky brightened from a dim gray to silver just before the sun broke the horizon.

When you finally do rouse him - first whispering his name and then shaking his shoulder - Thenerius startles, a pained groan leaving him before any coherent word. You hide your smirk, knowing now was not the time for an ‘I told you so’ no matter how deserved, simply waiting patiently for Thenerius to stretch his back, four distinct pops his reward.

“Have some coffee, then meet me in the barn,” you say quietly, waiting to leave until Thenerius nods in acknowledgement, with obvious difficulty.

It was freezing outside, the temperature having dropped significantly overnight, but you forgo your new fur coat, not wanting to get blood on it. You get the hardest part of the entire process done first - separating the three male kids from the herd. You let them out of their stable and into the larger barn area, the group going straight to the far door out of habit. Instead of releasing them immediately out to pasture, you picked out and carried each boy one by one into the empty stall next to the rabbits before letting the rest out and shutting the door behind them. The kids weren’t happy, bleating loudly and standing on their hind legs at the stall door to try to see where their mothers had gone, but the rabbits seemed unperturbed by their temporary neighbors as they continued nibbling their hay.

Thenerius trudges slowly in as you’re putting the loudest two month old in the tipping table, bags like bruises under his eyes.

“You’ll be helping me castrate the boys today,” you announce, handing Thenerius a pump bottle of brown liquid, “This is antiseptic. Your job is to spray them with it afterwards.”

Thenerius glances as the cleaned and sharpened knife in your hand and then at the goat on the table, appearing confused, “You mean-?”

You waste no time, not wanting to keep the kid restricted and stressed longer than necessary, rubbing a numbing paste on the area before making the first incision.

Thenerius is pale as he sprays the final goat, all blood drained from his face as you right the table and release him to waddle back to the large stable to join the other two. You wipe your hands the best you can on your skirt before handing Thenerius the bucket with the discarded testes to give to the chickens. He looks shellshocked, no doubt empathizing with the emasculated goats, even if his pain was an entirely different sort.

“I’ll give you the list of daily chores you’ll be needing to do from now on, then you can get started on whatever you didn’t finish on the list yesterday,” you said, not at all reveling in Thenerius’ stricken look, knowing he couldn’t argue with you after you had so specifically warned him about the very pain he was currently experiencing.

Before anything else, you check to make sure the goats had plenty of hay to feed on since they wouldn’t be out grazing for a while. After washing the blood from your hands and knife, you spend the morning fencing off the area on the side of the barn where the rabbits were kept, the temporary housing working out so well you decided to make it permanent rather than make a hutch from scratch. You would simply cut out a door in the side of the barn that could be opened to let them out to graze in the miniature pasture in the spring. You dug out holes for the fence posts, your plan to eventually make a fence of chickenwire high enough none of the rabbits would be able to jump over it.

Once you were done plotting out the fence, you began the tedious process of tilling the soil inside the fenced area, careful to keep the chunks of pure sod undisturbed. In the newly bare patches, you planted the leftover winter pea seeds from the main pasture.

By the time noon came and went, you had largely forgotten about Thenerius, lost in your work and only catching fleeting glimpses of him in your periphery; a colorful phantom standing out amongst the washed out wood and bluestem grass even more so than he did in the homely atmosphere of the tavern. He flitted around the property, first in the chicken coop, then in the pasture and, finally, nowhere.

You don’t realize how much time had elapsed since you last saw hide or hair of him until you took a quick reprieve to get your mother’s tablets ready with a glass of water. It suddenly struck you that you hadn’t seen him pass by the kitchen window at all in the time you’d been standing there, and when you peer out more closely, the only movement you could see was the animals lazily grazing in the pasture. His horse was still grazing with all the rest, so he hadn’t taken off. You try to think of the last time you saw him, but the brief flashes all blended together.

You left the tablets and water on the nightstand next to the bed where your mother rested and went out to milk the goats, mostly filling two pails and then going into the barn - only intending to pasteurize it and having no other motive besides perhaps making sure you didn’t accidentally kill your farmhand on his second day.

Thenerius was standing in the center of what appeared to be a wood scrap pile, staring down incredibly exasperated at his list. You caught a glimpse of a sketch you recognized immediately, having forgotten you’d asked Thenerius to build a rabbit hutch.

Unsure how to say nevermind when he was already working on it - and clearly frustrated with it - you instead walk in with the two pails and interrupt his concentration, “Come help me with this, Thenerius.”

He drops everything to take the pales from you, and you suspect it had less to do with his desire to help you than being able to take a break from building. You let him, grabbing the bottoms of the pails so they wouldn’t jostle as much during the transfer.

“The pasteurizer is over there,” you point, ignoring the giant pile and walking to the small metal contraption. Lifting the lid, you take out the funnel and seven metal bottles from the wire cage inside the main chamber, setting them down on the floor and sticking the funnel into the first bottle. You gestured for Thenerius to pour, moving through each bottle until both pails were emptied.

You place the filled bottles back into their wire slots and pointing at the pails, “Go wash those out and bring back water.”

“But the hutch-” Thenerius trailed off, looking at the unfinished scraps of wood.

“It’s fine, this needs to be done first,” you assure him, motioning for him to go.

Once he leaves, you go to the pile and grab small pieces of wood, sticking them in the chamber underneath the pasteurizer along with some hay. When Thenerius returns, you take the pails and begin filling the main chamber, stopping once the bottles were almost submerged and striking a match to light the hay.

You step back from the soon to be hot metal once you place the lid back on, keeping a close eye on the thermometer.

“You don’t have to make the hutch anymore. I’m just going to keep them in the stall,” you finally admit as you wait.

Despite still working as hard as he did the day before, it was evident that Thenerius was in pain, taking care not to move too much and antsy as he stood behind you.

“You can sit, you know. This is going to take a while.”

“I’m afraid if I sit I won’t be able to get back up,” Thenerius replies, his grim expression unchanging even when you burst into laughter.

“Suit yourself, then. You could always end the day early. Honestly, you’ve done more these past two days than I would be able to do in a month.”

Even your rare praise isn’t able to convince Thenerius, who resolutely denies your offer to rest. Deciding to get dinner started as the sun lowered in the sky, you instruct Thenerius when and how to close the bottom chamber and where the mitts were to take out the wire cage so he could bring the milk to you in the kitchen.

Later that evening, Thenerius all but collapsed into the chair next to you, favoring one leg where one of the goats rammed into his side when he was herding them back into the barn. Earlier, you had considered asking him to also draw the bath, but seeing how ravenously he ate his cold dinner, you were glad you had taken pity on him and done it yourself, your mother already out the bath.

“Go wash up,” you prod his leg with the side of your foot, careful not to hit it too hard.

Groaning, Thenerius painstakingly rose back to his feet and you could have sworn you heard him utter a few curses under his breath as he shed his boots and jacket at the door before trudging to the bathroom.

You enter a few minutes later unannounced, Thenerius immediately splashing down chin-deep into the water in an attempt to hide himself, stammering nonsense at your sudden appearance.

“Calm down, I just brought you some magnesium sulfate and scented oils,” you interrupt sternly, setting your supplies down and sitting on the edge of the tub directly behind Thenerius, who had turned away from you.

You pour a generous amount of the salt into the bath, enough that the water becomes opaque. However, before you add the oil, you hesitate, noticing Thenerius’ back is still streaked with dirt too stubborn to be rinsed away. You tell yourself to just pour in the oil anyways, or even just leaving it there to do himself

“Lean forward,” you find yourself saying instead, grabbing a clean washcloth and dunking it in the water, “You missed your back.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I don’t want to have to clean up dirt after you.” The words come out a bit harsher than you mean them to be, but you succeed in getting Thenerius to comply with your command, his chest submerged under the steaming water and exposing his back.

Scars of all kinds were scattered all over his skin, some paper-thin lines of lavender with the passage of time while others were a deep red wine - old burns and bullet holes. You lathered the bar soap into the washcloth, but your attention kept returning to the raised and puckered skin the width of your forefinger, ten overlapping stripes horizontal across the expanse of his back. The remnants of a particularly brutal lashing.

“You’ve never told me the story behind these,” you murmur, pressing the sudsy cloth against his shoulder blade at the very edge of the topmost scar, the ridge much more pronounced than the others; likely the first. You feel the phantom pain in your back, easily picturing the painful healing process. Thenerius had always bragged to you about his scars, but you never saw these particular ones - never even been shown his back, for that matter.

“I was young when I got them. Stupid,” Thenerius said, the bitterness in his voice melting into a soft sigh as you rubbed small circles around his shoulder blades.

Thenerius thankfully made no comment as you purposefully moved the cloth down his back, at first only to remove the dirt, but soon losing sight of your mission and working out the knots of his muscles, every so often splashing warm water up to rinse it. You loosened the tension in one area before moving on to the next, continuing long after all the dirt was washed away. He could not, however, hide the small sounds that escaped whenever you brushed against a particularly sensitive spot.

Your feel increasingly embarrassed with every hiss and grunt, but you continue on, guiltily enjoying every noise elicited by your hand, seeing just the back of his head leaving you only able to envision how he reacted - eyes screwed shut, lips falling open ever so slightly. Your imagination ran wild when your knuckles brushed against his side and he moaned.

It had been out of pain, the flesh bruised from goat horns, but your face burns and you swallow thickly nonetheless. You quickly finish, stopping right where his back meets the water and quickly turned to wring out the washcloth and drop it in the basin. Unable to meet Thenerius’ eyes just yet, you smell each bottle of oil, using your feigned deliberation as an excuse to keep your back to him.

Finally grabbing the first bottle after smelling each twice. It was citrusy, with the faintest hint of some herb, you think.

“Soak with this for a bit. It’ll help with the soreness,” you clear your throat, handing over the bottle. Thenerius had been falling asleep with your ministrations, but now snapped awake with the cold glass making contact with his palm.

“I shouldn’t- you still need to bathe and the water will be cold,” Thenerius begins to argue, rising from the water the slightest bit without realizing it, but you act quickly, pressing your hands down on his shoulders to keep him submerged.

“If you don’t, you won’t even be able to get up tomorrow,” the gentleness in your voice feels foreign, but it is sincere, “I know a lot about these things. Trust me, it can get a whole lot worse.”

Thenerius immediately relaxed under your touch, leaning his head back onto the rim of the tub and the points of his horns stopping on either side of your head, fortunately his eyes closed so he could not see you staring wide-eyed down at him. It took all your willpower to keep your palms rooted in their spot, your fingers itching to move lower. It would be a simple thing, to just… glide your hands down his chest, over his stomach - resting your chin on his shoulder - and wrapping a fist around his—

You are brought abruptly back into reality when Thenerius’ soft snores reach you, extracting your hands like a burn and quickly pouring the oil into the water. Once the bottle is empty, you quietly abscond.

It’s nearly half an hour before Thenerius finally exits, apologizing profusely. You had been pacing in the living room clutching your night clothes, avoiding every creaky floorboard with well-practiced coordination. As soon as he steps out of your way, you brush past the tiefling and shut the door.

The water is frigid, which you’re glad for, intent on freezing the molten heat that had grown in your core. You don’t know what’s come over you. Dangerous ideas consumed you the entire time you waited, impulses made all the more tempting with the knowledge that Thenerius wanted you; your mind twisted the memory of his confession into words of desire and his innocent noises into pleasured moans.

You scrubbed the dried sweat and grime off of you with just a little too much vigor, your attempt at grounding your beating heart. As soon as you’re finished, you pulled the plug and scrambled out the tub, quickly toweling off and getting dressed.

When you exit, Thenerius is seated on his cot, holding a steaming mug. You had been planning on going straight into the bedroom, but upon hearing the bathroom door open, your mother came from the kitchen, immediately seeing you and holding up a mug for you. Your stomach dropped. You had assumed she’d been asleep as she’d gone into the bedroom immediately after getting out the bath, and now wondered how long she’d actually been awake - if she had noticed the time you spent alone in the bathroom with Thenerius.

Out of habit, you take the mug, the smell of hot cocoa spiked with ale drifting lazily to your nose. You thought she would also drink with you. Instead, she walked straight past you towards the bedroom.

“You’re going to bed already?” Your voice is tight in panic at the thought of being left alone with Thenerius, the source of your temporary madness.

“I’m getting old,” she smiled, misinterpreting your question for concern for her health, her voice lowering to just above a whisper as she brought her lips close to your ear, “and I’m not one to stand in the way of young people’s affairs.”

Your gaze bores into the back of Thenerius’ head. Against your better judgement, you carry your mug to the cot, sitting on the very edge to keep your distance.

Blowing on your drink, you take small sips to avoid burning your tongue. Between the hot drink and the crackling fireplace in front of you, you almost forget your own awkwardness, the coziness only possible with the inhospitable winter outside lulling you into a sense of security.

“I was missing out on a lot with this drink,” Thenerius suddenly broke the silence, mirroring your own careful sips.

You temper your reaction, maintaining a smile you pray conveys a completely normal, neutral interest in the conversation, “You’ve never had hot cocoa before?”

“Never had a need. We usually stick to where it’s warm,” Thenerius said and your smile falters slightly at the implication, sobering slightly from your runaway thoughts.

“Why didn’t you leave with the others?”

The abrupt question hangs in the air between you, the pause stretching without Thenerius reacting to the point you wondered if you didn’t actually ask it.

Just as you are about to ask again, Thenerius spoke, slowly but not uncertainly, as though taking a moment to choose each word, an admission that took you entirely by surprise, “I was going to. After your rejection.”

“Why didn’t you?” You sound almost breathless, never before having considered the possibility that your extreme reaction to his proposal would have actually discouraged him. You have assumed that he had arrived with the goal of winning you over. You tried to think of some other possible motive, but you just drew blanks.

“I told you that your friend at the bar asked me to go to you,” he said, waiting until you nodded in acknowledgement before continuing, “At first, I thought she had seen- us. And I got… angry. I was embarrassed and it seemed like she was simply having fun. Then she told me she was worried about you, but that you refused her and everyone else’s offers help. I tried telling her I was the last person you wanted to see, much less accept help from, but she was persistent. Said you were just prickly around the edges, as it were.”

You grimace - a fair assessment, to be sure, but an unpleasant one to be so finely put a point on - but remain silent, digesting the new perspective. You feel dense, not having once considered Thenerius’ feelings about what had transpired between you. You also feel slightly disappointed that it was not his own passion that drove him to seek you out, though you know you have no right to feel hurt, now more than ever.

You down the rest of your cocoa, unsure if the heat or the ale is what burns down your throat, or your own disappointment. Already you could feel your face warm, the sweetness of the drink having hidden the strength of the alcohol.

“I’m sorry.” You’re unsure of what else to say, afraid to elaborate lest you drudge up every negative feeling over what happened.

He only nods, taking a sip from his drink and keeping his gaze fixed on the fire.

“I’ve always wanted to ask this,” blood was rushing through your ears as the ale settled heavily in your belly, making you just a bit bolder, “Why me? I mean—I know Paloma was leaving and she was the one to introduce us, but you seemed- I thought you were in love with her…”

You try to seem nonchalant as Thenerius chuckles, then deliberates, not sure your ego could take another blow tonight and also as if the question was a completely normal thing to ask platonically during a heart to heart with the man who proposed to you only four days ago. Tova have mercy. Had it really only been that long?

“I didn’t love her,” Thenerius finally put you out of your misery after a long stretch of silence, and you cursed the blooming hope in your chest, “She told me she was quitting. And why—she was in love. What was between us was not… it wasn’t the same. I didn’t know that at the time, I was just selfish, thought of her as mine even though I didn’t consider myself hers.”

You frown slightly, wanting desperately to pay attention to what Thenerius was sharing - obviously a very delicate and sensitive subject - but you can’t help the illogical wave of jealousy rising within you. He hadn’t known you then, only seeing for a few weeks out of the year after that. You shouldn’t have finished off your drink, too all over the place and unable to get a handle on your own emotions.

“I didn’t understand her then,” Thenerius continued, oblivious to your inner turmoil, “How she described the love she felt - to do things for someone else’s sake, rather than one’s own. And to forsake everything, be unwilling to trade anything for that love.”

It was evident Thenerius was no longer talking about Paloma, but of his own feelings for you. However, he had yet to answer your question and you’re unsure if you trust yourself to elaborate, opting instead to repeat it.

“So why me?”

“I’m not sure,” Thenerius admits sheepishly, “I began talking to you. It was the longest I ever talked to anyone that wasn’t on my crew—and about something that wasn’t about anything in particular. And I saw you interacting with others - the tavern owner, the other workers - when you thought no one was paying attention. You seemed so… carefree. Or just free. You didn’t have to worry about making it to the next port, or if you’d be paid. And when we moved on, I couldn’t think of anyone else, be with anyone else.”

You glance over at Thenerius, feeling incredibly warm, like the heat was rolling off your cheeks in waves. The alcohol had given you a buzz - not enough to be entirely gone, but enough to give you the excuse to throw caution to the wind as you observed Thenerius unabashedly.

His downturned eyes made his eyelashes brush against his cheeks, the strong slope of his nose casting an uneven shadow across his face where it veered slightly from an old break. But your eyes were most drawn to his lips - plump, slightly chapped after the hot shower and the corners tugged down into a frown that you wanted desperately to alleviate.

“What about now?” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, and Thenerius seems just as surprised by your question as you do. He doesn’t, however, seem to grasp your implication, if his self-deprecating snort was anything to go by, his next words making your momentarily-fragile heart break for him.

“I completely misunderstood your intentions. I told myself I saw no difference in how you interacted with me and your true friends. And I’m all the more the fool, because I know these things but it has done nothing to curb my useless pining.”

Your countless worries and responsibilities seemed to melt away in that moment, your rational mind telling you a thousand and one reasons not to do what you were about to do holding no power over you. You live in a place where it gets cold, you cannot go with him. But all you could see was Thenerius in front of you, present - a concept you could never before focus on. It was always thinking of the future; what needed to be done, paid for, taken or given.

In the present, you reach out your hand to Thenerius’ cheek furthest from you, turning his gaze from the fire to you. You lean forward, slotting your lips against his softly, but without hesitation.

part 5

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #reader insert #tiefling

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

The Rumor Around Hogwarts (Ch.2)

Chapter Two: Goodbye Old....

Male reader insert for now, future addition of they pronouns as it will lean more towards a non-binary insert with the only change being less reference to Y/N as a young boy and more gender neutral terms. Still masc/male aligned.

Previous // Next

(Your POV)

Your mother is….. A little eccentric. And if you’ll recall, notoriously late. So when you actually took the time to read over your letter you took notes of dates and times. The first one was September 1st, the start of term. Your mother most likely would not let you miss the start of term, or the train to Hogwarts, well actually she might, but she would most definitely forget to take you to Diagon Alley until last minute. Like the time when you were in muggle schooling and had to show up with parchment, quills and ink and not notebooks and pens. Luckily that was easy to explain away (far easier than the whole being a mind-reading legilimens with an extraordinary power that you hid from everyone including your mother). The experience made you decide it was better for everyone if you were the one to keep track of dates and times as well as keeping spare materials on you at all times (thank god for your recent discovery of magic it was hard carrying so much around at once).

You were not popular in muggle school. It was weird enough that you came to school with strange things like parchment paper, ink, quills, and weird animals like snow owls that flocked to you. But you also talked about living in a giant house that you could never invite your friends to. That was really suspicious. Because you were such an odd person people were kind of interested in you. You were like the perfect example of “weird isn’t always bad”. Interest did not mean people wanted to be your friend. They kind of just checked in on you like a show you watch out of boredom and not because you like it.

Your oddity did gain you one friend. He was weird too. But the type of weird that gets sidelined or shunned. He was lanky and had dark skin and feminine features. In a country full of white kids you could see how he was treated like an outsider. To you he was absolutely beautiful, a little too pretty to be considered handsome. But you were drawn in by his sociable personality and it felt a little bit like fate, the two of you meeting. You befriended each other over a riddle. You’d answered correctly even though he wasn’t speaking to you and his eyes lit up. Honestly you’d miss Dante. Maybe you could tell him about wizards and finally invite him over your house during breaks. He could be trusted. Right?

 (Harry POV)

“I’m a what?”

“A wizard, o’ course,” said Hagrid before sitting on the sofa. It groaned and sank lower, “an’ a thumpin’ good’un I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An’ I reckon it’s abou’ time yeh read yer letter.”

I reached out my hand to take the envelope addressed to me in emerald green. I’d never had a letter addressed to me; it was a new experience. But what was more insane is the precise address on it. I’m not absolutely convinced about me being a wizard but if there was one way to make sure this letter got to me no matter what, it was magic. 

After reading the letter, questions exploded in my head. Especially about the boy in the zoo. If wizards truly did exist was he one of them? He said he’d keep my secret when the snake got out almost as if he’d known I did it. What if he did know. Will I get to see him again? I don’t know much about him but besides Hagrid no one had really been as kind to me. Despite all the questions about the boy flying around in my head, I wanted to keep him secret. 

“What does it mean, they await my owl?” I asked instead. Hagrid opened his mouth as if he intended to respond but instead cursed? and pulled out a ruffled looking owl, wrote a letter and gave it to the owl, throwing it out into the storm like it was normal. Uncle Vernon, ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the fire-light and said “he’s not going”

I was pretty convinced magic existed but the final nail in the coffin was the dursley’s refusal of me attending Hogwarts.Not only did Uncle Vernon hate anything abnormal, but he openly despised anything that would be good for me.

“I’d like ter see a great muggle like you stop him” Hagrid grunted

“A what?” I said interested 

“A muggle.” said Hagrid “ it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest muggles I ever laid eyes on.”

“We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish” said Vernon “swore we���d stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!”

Hagrid’s fat comment flew over my head at the time because I was so confused and slightly angry by the events going on. “You knew? You knew I’m a -- a wizard?

“Knew!” shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly “Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that- that school- and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and LIly that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!”

She stopped ranting, looking like a weight was lifted off of her chest, took a breath and continued:

“Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as strange, just as- as- abnormal- and then if you please she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!”

I felt myself go white. “Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!” Apparently that infuriated Hagrid because he started going on about me not knowing my own history. The anger washed away when I asked him to explain . Apparently my parents were close to Dumbledore and a dark wizard named Voldemort killed them and vanished after trying and failing to kill me. Thanks for the scar I guess.

Hagrid’s anger returned twice. Once when Uncle Vernon began demeaning me and my parents and the other time when he’d insulted Dumbledore. As I laid down to sleep, I was glad Hagrid was a friend. I wondered about the boy at the zoo, would he be a good friend to me too?

#harry potter x male reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter #x reader #reader insert #x reader insert #male reader #nonbinary #harry potter x reader #the rumor around hogwarts

[zealous-whispers-of-us-redux]

joy to you and me

(A/N: a lil drabble but hear me out. Harry is one of my favorite minor Seb characters because all we know is he has pet frogs, and I love frogs. We also know that he smokes a lot, owns a pinky ring, and once wore an Edgar Allan Poe shirt. Also, if you've never seen "Spread," don't watch it. It's awful. Also, I had no idea how to tag this, lol)

(A/N 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UfOZdZLuuw)

That guy was back. She found herself peeking around the corner to get a glimpse at him. He was examining a container of earthworms with a furrow in his brow that would be adorable if he wasn't so annoying. She had no idea where he learned to interact with women, but it wasn't appropriate. The first time he came into the shelter while she was working, he had sauntered over and spent a good fifteen minutes leering at her as he made shallow conversation. She had noticed his friend shooting him subtle thumbs up like the guy was actually winning her over. She eventually managed to slip away with a grimace, hoping he would never return.

But here he was again, and he was standing precisely where she needed to be. She set her jaw and walked over because she was an adult. Hiding would not get her anywhere. There was no way he would remember her anyway, as 'experienced' with women as he said. Humming along to the song stuck in her head, she began to restock the reptile food. After a few minutes, someone coughed to get her attention. She set a feeder mouse in the freezer and turned around.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Yeah," said the guy, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked nervous, which was completely different than last time. "Do you have any waxworms?"

"We do, yeah. I was just getting to restocking them," she said, handing him a container.

"Thanks." He looked thrilled. "They're my frog's favorite."

"I hope your frog enjoys them."

She tucked the last of the food away and gave the guy a brief but slightly awkward smile. When it looked like he wasn't about to say anything else, she headed back in the direction of the reptiles' cages. She could sense him following her a few steps behind, and she closed her eyes, groaning internally. If she got upset with one more person, she was going to quit; required hours be damned. She loved volunteering here, she really did, but the people ruined it for her. She decided to ignore the guy. She stayed near the back, next to her favorite snake. The ball python was abandoned outside and brought in by a nice couple. She had spent two days pulling ticks off from under every scale. It was apparent he'd been a pet because he was so friendly. It was dangerous working here- she wanted to adopt everyone.

"You got new frogs," the guy said. "Cool."

Damn it.

She grimaced before turning to him with her 'customer' service smile.

"Yes, they were surrendered."

"I'll never understand why people get a pet only to give them up later."

"They don't understand how to take care of them and think they're easy pets. At least surrendering them is better than just setting them loose," she explained.

The guy nodded. "Do you have frogs?"

"No, snakes, though."

"I've got tree frogs and a bullfrog," he offered. "Dupin, Usher, and, Jeremiah but I'm the only person who knows their names. And now you, I guess."

"Cool," she said, feeling strangely honored.

They stood there for a moment; he was rocking back and forth on his heels like he was nervous. She was about to pretend that she was going to the bathroom before he spoke again, looking at her with earnest blue eyes.

"Look, I wanted to apologize for before," he said. "I was a dick. And you were working. I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"It's just my friend. He- used to get me into trouble, you know?"

"Do you do everything your friend tells you to?"

"Well, I mean, he's an asshole, er, was an asshole. We aren't talking right now."

"Things go a lot smoother when people are nice, don't you think?" she hinted.

She wasn't planning on it when she first saw him, but she was forever a sucker for a guy with a dimple in his chin who knew what his pet's favorite treat was. This was another chance she was offering him. She only hoped he understood. And it didn't take him long to. His pretty eyes lit up, and he thrust out his hand.

"Harry," he told her.

She shook his hand, wordlessly pointing to her nametag. He repeated her name, a small smile playing on the edge of his lips.

"So," he said. "What kind of snakes?"

"A corn snake named Mango and a ball python named Ghost."

"Is Ghost albino?"

"Nope," she grinned shyly when he laughed. "I've just always wanted a snake named Ghost, and I didn't care what color she was."

"Did you rescue her?"

"They both were rescues, yeah. From here, actually."

"Have you worked here long? It's just, heh, I've never seen you," Harry rubbed the back of his neck again. "Before that first time, I mean."

He looked nervous again, and she felt like she was in some sort of an alternate reality. He did not act like this before. Was the influence of his friend really that strong, or was he bullshitting her? She shook her head. She always tried to see the best in people, and she wasn't fair to him. Truth be told, she'd been friends with some people that got her into trouble, too. She couldn't judge.

"No, I started a few months back. Just volunteering a few hours a week, you know. I had to do something after I moved home."

"You like it here?"

"Better than being around people." She closed her eyes, muttering a curse. "Sorry, that was rude. Don't let that 'reflect poorly on our establishment.'"

"Ah, it's okay. I get it. And I deserve that."

"It wasn't technically directed at you."

"No?"

"No, it's just been a bad week. Abandonments and surrenders galore."

"Well, we could get a drink after your shift. Talk more. If you wanted, I mean," Harry said.

"I would love to, but I don't drink."

"You- what? Nope, never mind. Uh."

She debated apologizing, but for what? Instead, she said:

"I like breakfast. If you eat that sort of thing."

Harry lit up, and she felt her heart flip at how cute he looked when he smiled like that.

"I know a good diner. You free Saturday? Say, around eleven?" he asked.

"Eleven," she agreed.

"Could I get your number?"

"I don't keep my phone on me, but here."

She took out a pen. Harry offered his hand, looking shy and trying not to be as she wrote her number on his palm. He looked nervous again, and she thought it was adorable on him. He was so different than the guy who first came in, hitting on her with lines that wouldn't work on anyone over the age of seventeen.

"There," she said.

"Cool," he said.

"I should get back to work."

"Yeah, I gotta go feed my frogs. See you?"

"Later."

"Bye."

She bit back a smile. "Bye."

Harry rocked on his heels. "Have a good rest of- uh, see you Saturday."

"Hope your frogs like their worms."

She waved and watched him go, already looking forward to Saturday. She hoped she would be seeing this version of Harry- this soft, nervous, pink-cheeked man who talked about his frogs like they were his favorite thing on Earth.

"What do you think, Otto?" she asked the ball python in the cage next to her. "He's one of the good ones, right?"

Otto's tongue darted out.

"Yeah, I think so, too."

#spread movie #spread fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #harry (from spread) x reader

[sugarcoated-eloquence]

Foreboding (Targets: Part 2)

A/N: Hello, hello! Welcome to the shitshow, aka my blog. This is part two of a potential 4/5 part series that I am co-writing with the lovely @sweetestrequiems. Click here for Part 1. Each chapter is focused on a different queen or issue related to the queens. This specific chapter is Catherine Parr centric, but the other queens are all very present. 

Please note the following ships are canon in this fic’s universe: Parrlyn, Aramour

{Trigger warnings: anxiety, mention of blood, slight violence}

I should also note some passages are written in German and Spanish and should be google searched to better comprehend the story. 

Taglist: @sweetestrequiems, @theatergirl06, @silverpetals97, @six-fragile-dreams, @patdfobmcr-yt, @frogs-in-clogs, @mindless-pidgeon

Other than that..... enjoy! Below the cut.

It would not stop.

The constant feeling like something would go wrong.

Katherine Howard could not tell if it was the anxiety, or if it was something else. She physically felt okay, and everything seemed fine, but for the life of her, the girl could not put her finger on that bad feeling. Being so lost in her thoughts, Howard was found, brows furrowed, staring down at her food, rather than eating it. Of course, this raised concerns with her cousin, Anne Boleyn, and Jane Seymour. Boleyn’s face began to reflect the concern when she raised an eyebrow. Seymour had more of a sad-looking face, but nonetheless, the worry was quite present.

“Katherine?”

“Hey, Kitty… you okay?”

The two voices snapped Howard out of her trance. She looked up, shaking her head seconds after her attention went to the two women. “Yeah, yeah! Just had something come across my mind is all. I’m fine, really. Guess I’m just getting the typical pre-show jitters everyone gets,” which wasn’t a lie, either. But, Katherine did feel a pang of guilt in having to be dishonest with Jane and Anne. Howard was one of the Queens who always got some pre-show anxiety, alongside Catherine of Aragon– (much to everyone’s surprise)– and Boleyn. It wasn’t a rare occasion, though, considering they had just about an hour before they had to head to the theatre. It wouldn’t seem like much now, but this feeling Katherine Howard was having was not a good one.

––––––––––

During the matinee, Katherine could not shake off that constant thought.

But she was not alone. The feeling had begun to haunt her cousin Anne.

Anne Boleyn’s eyes began to glance around the audience, knowing that Katherine was in the middle of delivering the roast of the century to Jane, Catherine Parr, and Anna of Cleves. A certain man had caught her eye up in the upper level; the second row in the left Circle Slip of the Arts Theatre, to be more precise. Something about that blond hair. And cold, blue eyes. Something about the way he was leaning on the railing while he sat began to bother Anne. Her attention snapped right back to the show when she heard Katherine say, “I can’t even begin to think of how I could compete with you all. Oh wait, like this!” to signal the start of All You Wanna Do. But even with her focus on the show, Boleyn’s glances kept going back up to that strange man.

“I think we can all agree I’m the ten amongst these threes!”

What about him bothered Anne Boleyn so much? She did not know. 

Was it his face? No, he seemed to be fairly attractive. Was it the way he stared at all of them? Possibly, since he seemed to be rather uncomfortable when Aragon brought up Leviticus and Mary in No Way. He also looked disgusted during Boleyn’s spotlight in Don’t Lose Ur Head. He looked very, very abhorred with Haus of Holbein and Anna of Cleves. But his eyes when Katherine Howard was singing screamed danger, and Anne could see it. Her frequent glancing that first day saw him tense up upon a few lines:

“Tall, large, Henry the Eighth. 

Supreme Head of the Church of England. 

Globally revered, although you wouldn’t know it from the look of that beard.”

And the end of All You Wanna Do, as far as Anne could tell from where she was on the stage, had him gripping the railing tightly. Was anger the reason he furrowed his eyebrows, or something else? The distance was not helping her much. Overall, she was picking up a few assumptions just from the one matinee show. This guy was either a historian that pretty much agreed with Henry VIII’s horrible decisions in life, or someone the Queens knew personally. What Anne decided to think though, was the former. Maybe this guy was just a historian and unimpressed with the show, right?

That first show could have not ended sooner. But as the lights on the stage went somewhat dim to allow the six ladies to exit, Anne Boleyn paused and allowed the others to go in front of her. She kept her gaze on that very man, and watched him stand up, turn around, and head on out of the seating area. The fact that she was the last one to leave concerned Cleves a bit. Right before she could even reach the dressing room, the queen in red put a hand on the green queen’s shoulder. “Moment mal, Anne. Was stört dich? Du hast anscheinend nicht dein gewohntes Lächeln am Ende der Show gehabt,” the German gently gave the shoulder a squeeze. Boleyn found herself sighing. “What’s going on? You normally smile and you were barely holding one up today by the end of the show,” Cleves made herself translate what she had previously said. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I guess I thought I saw someone that Maggie knew in the audience. It was weird. I’m normally not out of it either. Anyways, if Aragon took the couch, she’s going to regret it. It’s my nap time,” the cheeky grin came back to the ruby lips. A nod from Cleves, and the two were well on their way to the dressing room. Was Aragon on the couch? Absolutely. And Anne 100% kicked her off of it just so she could lay down and sleep after she changed back into her comfortable clothes. No space buns, no makeup– just a giant hoodie and some sweatpants. 

––––––––––

The other dressing room was a little more lively for a good while.

Katherine Howard was up on her feet, bouncing around with energy. Catherine Parr had decided to join her this afternoon. What were the two doing while Jane Seymour took the time to answer some tweets and messages? Dancing. The two ladies were dancing, which was almost the catalyst for Jane setting her phone down and joining them. In fact, she just wanted in on the fun. The three danced around for maybe half an hour, before a yawning Katherine Howard took to the couch to take a nap herself. Parr and Seymour stayed awake, with Parr looking for her notebook and Seymour going back to the tweets and messages.

“Cathy, look at this,” tapping her counterpart on the shoulder, the blonde woman moved her phone to be between them both. “It’s us with our kids!” If there was one thing Jane Seymour loved about the fans they had, it was all of the fanart of them with their kids. A smile was brought to Catherine Parr’s face as she looked up to meet Jane’s eyes. “If there’s one thing I have always appreciated, it’s that they know we aren’t the only Tudors that kicked some serious ass.” The laugh both of them shared was quiet, as to not wake Katherine up from her post-show nap. 

The calligraphy pen twirled around Parr’s fingers for a solid minute or so before she finally began to write. Each queen had their thing to do post-matinee if it was a two-show day.

Catherine Parr wrote notes about her performances.

Jane Seymour responded to fans. And to as many of them as possible, too!

Both of the Beheaded Cousins slept their time away.

Anna of Cleves did various things, such as meditate and listen to music.

Catherine of Aragon normally left the dressing room to find a quiet spot in the theatre’s backstage to pray.

This normal routine was going to be shaken up a little too much. So much that Boleyn and Howard were too tense to take their usual between show naps.

––––––––––

The same seat every damn time.

Who the hell was this guy?

And why was he now looking so bitter towards Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard?

Three weeks since the mystery man had first caught Boleyn’s eyes in the middle of a performance. But now it was a pattern. Two night shows and a matinee, and always on the exact same nights. Exact same seat, exact same everything. This was starting to piss Boleyn off, and scare Howard. He looked at them with more than just malicious intent in his eyes, to the point that Katherine sometimes blanked on her lines. It was to the point when Anne was singing, she’d put more emphasis on “Hold up, let me tell you how it went down.” just to spite him. This historian guy, or whoever he truly was, did not settle well with the cousins.

But on the night of a Sunday performance, the Queens all got a rude awakening they were not ready for. And the two to be given the first wave were none other than the Beheaded Cousins themselves:

Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard.

––––––––––

This tension was so chilling that it even caused Anne to fumble a few of her lines. Even the infamous “Yeah, I read.” was not the usual confident, snarky remark it usually was. Having made eye contact with the mystery man while trying to deliver the line was definitely part of it, and for a moment there was a stiff awkwardness in the air. They’d recover quickly, of course, but the general consensus between the group was that something was wrong, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

The man quickly left, before the end of bows, and somehow located an usher and told him he was an old friend of the girls’. The girls weren’t too akin to refusing to meet people, so immediately after stagedooring and meeting fans, they all headed backstage to meet whoever had requested a personal meet and greet. Kit’s the first through the door and she stops dead in her tracks. Those eyes. They were the same bright blue eyes that she saw in her dreams at night, the same eyes she stared into right before… well… 

She swallows, backing up a little. Anne comes crashing through the door, chaos embodied, and happily dances around for a moment before noticing the anxiety seething from Howard’s small frame. “What’s wrong, love?” Kit simply points to the man, and Anne’s heart drops to her stomach as well. She too, can’t look away from those crystal eyes. The blond hair. The everything. 

Anne can barely talk above a whisper could even tell it was him would make the situation less real. Maybe it wasn’t, maybe he was just another person. One can hope, but no luck there, Anne. She can feel Kit shaking, and reaches to take her hand, letting out a shaky breath and considering shouting for Parr. 

The others trickle in quickly after, the ‘mystery man’ still just staring at the two cousins with ferocious intensity. The last to enter, though, is Jane Seymour. The metaphorical mother of the group, the caretaker, any other synonym you can think of. Jane is never one to cast judgement. She walks in, and despite the obvious tension, says a polite hello to the man. He simply nods in response. 

Parr joins Anne at the hip, whispering to her. “Is he what’s got you all rattled, love?” Anne lets out a small nod. “It’s him.” 

That statement reaches Jane’s ears and immediately her demeanor changes. She stands up a little straighter, setting her microphone down on the dressing room’s main table, and just looks at him. She moves a little closer, pushing the other girls behind her, and she can only say one thing. 

“...Henry?”

He steps forward, and while the other girls move back, Jane stays planted to her spot. He smiles, trying to turn on the charm, reaching for her hands. “The one I truly lov—” He’s cut off by a slap. Yes, Jane Seymour just slapped a man. He brings a hand up to his red cheek, eye showing that it indeed, hurt. Cleves stifles a laugh.

“Don’t ever associate that word with me. You don’t know what love is.” A few tears well up in the blonde’s eyes, but refuses to let them fall. Not for him. “Love isn’t keeping your wife from holding her newborn child!” Her voice breaks slightly, but she takes a deep breath, centering herself. 

“You all look so different.” The scruffy voice chimes, and immediately Kit visibly tenses up. She, unlike Jane, is unable to hold the tears in. Though they flow silently, they flow heavily. “There’s no need to cry, Katherine… or should I say ‘Kitty’, now?” 

“Don’t speak to her. You do not have permission to do that.” Jane moves to block his view, but he simply repositions himself. Anne elects to go in for a dig. The devilish smirk returns, though small, and she gives Kit’s hand a squeeze before moving a tiny step forward. 

“You know, mate, if you’re still having trouble… you know, with your little friend, we can get you a prescription for Viagra. Or Cialis, plenty of options.” She emphasizes ‘little’ by using her thumb and pointer finger to indicate his size. It makes Kit smile a little. The silence in the air was broken by a stifled laughter. That had to be the funniest thing Cleves ever heard Boleyn say outside of the wit written in the script. Aragon gave her a nudge, but even she agreed with the sentiment.

The blond man, finally revealed as the reincarnated Henry VIII, just narrowed his eyes. “How funny, laughter coming from someone who couldn’t perform.” Anne’s smirk went away, as she looked back towards Cleves with a hurt expression. Cleves’ grin was gone, with gritted teeth behind a closed mouth replacing it. Aragon let out a sigh. “That’s low for the man who so easily says he believes–”

“Catalina, don’t even get me started on you either.”

Not a single comment from Catherine Parr. She just stood there, feeling herself drift between a rational mind and pure impulse. Did this guy just come back to insult them, and get a second wind to take Katherine? Oh no, that was not happening. She saw it all, too. Jane’s reddening face from holding back the tears, Cleves’ rather tame anger, Aragon’s scowl… Kit’s pale face from the fear, and Anne being powerless. Jane Seymour honestly, had lost her mind way before Catherine Parr did in this scenario, but… there was always going to be a breaking point for the quiet one.

“So you and your whore cousin think you can just slander my name like that? I’d have you both back at the scaffold in front of the Tower if I had–”

“Scaffolds don’t exist anymore, you twat,” Boleyn hissed under her breath. 

“Enough, Henry.”

This was where Parr had enough. The other Queens gave a glance at their surviving counterpart, who wasn’t even looking up at him. She was staring at the floor, but for now. “Cathy, you should probably not… y’know, say anything,” Boleyn barely managed to get that sentence out, considering the crushing feeling she had inside of her chest. All that got as a response was a laugh.

“The survivor, Catherine Parr. Tell me then, my love, are you just as stubborn as you were back then?” He got every other one to crack, but little did he know that he would be the one about to shatter like glass. “Because you should’ve been the one to meet an untimely fate like your counterparts here. Of course, new body means a second chance at being able to–”

Henry stops when he sees Parr’s shoulders shake a little. She’s… laughing?

That’s why she was looking down. When she did look up, one saw her smile shining on like a light. Safe to say, Catherine Parr was about to tear someone apart. “You’ve still got quite a loud mouth for an old man. Tell me, did you ever finally learn to take care of yourself, you bobolyne? Thinking you have any right to talk to the mother of not only your damned son, but also the woman who was loyal to you for twenty four years?! And even better, the one you so graciously called your sister after your marriage? You’ve got to be kidding me right now.”

Jane felt a little insulted that she had to take a jab at Edward, but had the feeling it was necessary considering the situation. Hopefully Parr would apologize for it later on.

“Okay, okay… fair. Not bad, Parr. But why do those two get to wear shiny chokers while the rest of you have crowns? Does it further emphasize my point that Anne Boleyn’s just a hell of a tempting woman and that Katherine Howard–”

The smile from Parr’s face faded. The anger was present and everyone was mortified to see someone so quiet speaking up like she was. With vitriol in her voice, Catherine Parr officially lost her temper. 

“You KNOW exactly what the fuck happened, Henry.”

Aragon felt herself go to cover Katherine’s ears as her goddaughter began to lose her composure. “You KNOW why they have to wear those. You know damn well the crimes you fucking committed against them both, especially Katherine! She was a child, Henry! A fucking child who got manipulated and used! I want to hear nothing from your mouth, you snoutband! You have nothing to defend yourself with!”

Wiping a tear or two away, Jane Seymour began to lean into Anna of Cleves for some form of comfort. Even the German was surprised to be hearing the resentment coming out of such a powerful and rather cool-tempered woman. Just as Henry went to open his mouth, he stopped.

“Oh no, no sir! You have no right to talk here! Anne Boleyn lost her head over what, your delusions that she was out and about with men when you were just going around like you weren’t married? And because of that, she has to struggle to change her name? Are you actually insane or some shit?” The northern accent Parr had was thick. She was angry, and her voice said it for her if her facial expression did not. “Jane Seymour never got to hold Edward because you took him straight away for his christening. And she had to sit there, alone, in bed! Suffering through illness until she died without saying goodbye to her baby boy!”

Boleyn goes pale. Where did this anger even come from? She had no idea, but Parr was scaring her.

“My damn godmother was near a saint with all of the bullshit she had to put up with! Twenty four fucking years, and it wasn’t Anne who ruined the marriage. It was YOU. Aragon did some insanely remarkable things despite how you treated her! And Cleves! You just decide to take Cleves and humiliate her because she wasn’t beautiful enough for you? You’re an absolute wandought, Henry! You brought a Spanish lady and a German lady out of their comfort zones all because you didn’t know how to use your damn brain!”

At this point, Aragon had managed to sneak off into the dressing room, with Cleves now being the one to hold Howard. Boleyn was now hugging Seymour, actually terrified of not just Henry, but Parr.

Henry began to go pale. He was not going to recover from this.

“Who am I missing… let’s see, Katherine Howard? No, I got her. Anne Boleyn? Also got her. Jane Seymour? Check. Anna of Cleves? Check. Catherine of Aragon? Oh, yeah, her too. Would you look at that… I’m the only one left. Surprise surprise, the fucking survivor surviving again and this time, she gets to give it to you the exact way she wants to.”

“Cathy–”

“Shut up you lot. My turn to finally talk.”

A flinch from the group. Aragon had to take glances in and out of the dressing room.

“Oh wow, Catherine Parr. The survivor. The one who draws lines in arbitrary places, blah blah! She had two other husbands, what good could have she done being a Tudor queen? I DIDN’T TAKE ANY OF YOUR BULLSHIT IS WHAT I DID. Those books that everyone rumoured a woman was writing? Surprise, you tallowcatch! It was me! I’m the famed author of Tudor history. And I published under my own name once your pitiful body finally died. That can’t be that bad, Cathy. What a sad excuse for a sob story, right?”

Katherine Howard began to tremble more than she already was in Anna of Cleves’ arms. Catherine Parr made herself stand face to face with Henry.

“Ah, right, because she survived she deserves the backing vocals. WELL GUESS WHAT, HENRY? I’M HERE TO STAY. I HAD TO GIVE UP MY LIFE, MY LOVE, AND WHATEVER ELSE I WAS DOING TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR SORRY ASS. You might have forced these women into submission but no, I am not going to submit to some sad old man. You took away their rights, you took away their children… and poor Katherine…” A laugh. “You took poor Katherine’s childhood. You turned her into a disgraced whore. She is not and will never be one. She is a victim of your bullshit.”

“Catherine, my love–”

“No excuses now, Henry. I’m through. Your love ran cold years ago. And call me love one more damn time. See what happens.”

“My love–”

The weight of the sleeves helped Parr send her fist flying into his face. He stumbled back, feeling a warm sensation drip from his nose. Blood. He… was bleeding? “You actually got the nerve to punch an English King? You’re a mad woman, Parr. I’ll have you thrown on that scaffold just how–” A second punch, and this time, there was an audible crack of sorts.

“You wear a crown, but you’re no king. You’re a disgrace to human life, Henry. And this is for all of the women you hurt, manipulated, abused… and killed,” a lunge forward. The third strike was to his jaw, and the fourth was a solid kick to the chest with her heel being the first thing to make impact. Henry, having been taken by surprise from every hit, stumbled right back into a pair of men. Shaking her fist off, some of the blood ended up getting on the floor, and part of it remained on her hands. 

“I’ll be back, Catherine! Mark my damn words! Let go of me, you imbeciles!”

“Like hell you’ll be back!”

And just as she took a step forward, Aragon went to hold on to one of her arms. “Someone help me hold her back!” Aragon needed the help. Parr was under such a fit of rage she was dragging her godmother across the hallway. Seymour had to let go of Boleyn to try and hold on to Parr’s other arm. She slowed down, but still had enough adrenaline surging through her to keep going. Cleves just gave Howard a gentle kiss on the cheek before running over to help the other two ladies. No arms? No problem. She just held on to one of Parr’s legs.

Boleyn pulled her cousin into a tight hug, feeling a shaky exhale leave her body. “Kitty? Kitty, are you okay?” Just a nod. Howard was terrified to open her mouth after seeing the ungodly wrath unfold before her eyes. “I-Is… she mad at us, Annie?” Quiet and almost inaudible. The poor girl was terrified to even talk out of fear that Parr was not just angry at Henry, but at them too.

“Catherine Parr, what in God’s name has gotten into you?” Aragon furrows her eyebrows. “This is not you. What is going on? Talk to me, please.”

Anne reaches to take Kit’s hand. “She’s… upset. Not at us, I promise.” Anne had to admit, all of the ferocity coming from Parr scared her a little bit. The yelling reminded her a little of when Henry first stormed in and accused her. Of course, she would set it aside, but it was scary in the moment. She looks in Kit’s eyes, which are now full of tears, sighing and pulling her into another tight hug and rubbing her back. “It’s okay, babes… He’s gonna go away and we will be okay, I promise. The girls aren’t gonna let him get to us.” Kit just buries her face into Anne’s shoulder and lets out the remainder of what she wouldn’t let out in front of Henry. Thank goodness the men had taken him into another room until the police arrived. 

Anne pulls out of the hug for a moment and then walks Kit outside. “You look absolutely knackered, love… maybe we should head home as soon as all of this is over. Do you wanna change into something else? C’mon.” They both decide to change, but do so in the staff bathroom rather than in the dressing room. On the off chance Henry was able to see into the dressing room, they didn’t want him to see anything. Anne also thought a door with a lock was the safest. 

Once they finish hanging up their costumes, the two settle into the couch, and just hold each other. Anne hums a little of La Vie en Rose, and quickly, Kit falls asleep. Anne doesn’t mind. They were all done with the day, it had already put them through the ringer. 

There’s an apparent veil of exhaustion amongst all of the women, except Parr.

Sure, Henry had been apprehended at this point and he was stuck with his hands cuffed behind his back, but that didn’t stop him from being inches away from Parr’s face with a very devious smile. “I’ll be back, Catherine. And you six will have to deal with me all over again. Especially Kat–”

“Like hell you are!”

Catherine Parr broke her left arm free from Catherine of Aragon’s grip, and her right arm from Jane Seymour’s. The right hand took a vice-like grip on his shirt collar before her left fist came swinging at full power, and thensome since the weight of the costume added force. That impact had a very, very nasty sound to it. Even Cleves flinched at it, soon seeing the blond man fall straight to the floor with a bloody face. “Get anywhere near us and I will have you laying your head on a prison bench just how you made poor Katherine and Anne lay down as you murdered them!”

The officers picked up the unconscious Henry, and kindly thanked Jane, Anna, and Aragon for their cooperation. Parr however, got a warning, but that was about it.

Giving it a moment, knowing they would be out of earshot at this point, Parr releases a rather annoyed grumble. “He’ll fucking pay for his crimes against all of you. I swear on my life he will rot in a prison cell for what he did. If he thinks he can just show up out of nowhere and come back here to take us for fools, he’s wrong,” she almost hissed at the end. The thickness of her accent was making Aragon concerned, since to see someone as rational as her goddaughter be in such a state was a rare experience. Cleves and Seymour both looked up with mortified faces. Ever seen revenge personified as human? No? Now you have.

And her name was Catherine Parr.

“What in heaven was that?” Maggie asks, getting up and peeking out into the hallway. A small laugh. The thud was actually loud enough to wake the cousins, and they both get up, confused a little, and sleepily walk to join her at the door frame. Anne rubs her eyes and yawns, looking at Henry, now being pulled up by two police men. 

She glances to Parr, and then to Henry, and upon sight of Parr’s hands, she lets out a small, startled gasp. His blood was actually on her knuckles. Probably mixed with her own, if her knuckles had bust. Kit has a similar reaction, coupled with hiding behind Anne at the sight of the wicked man. “Cathy… let me help you get cleaned up. Mags, can you grab the first aid kit out of my backpack?” 

“Let’s just go home, first.” Parr says, a little cold, while watching an officer take Henry away. She wanted to watch up until he was inside of the car, so she could ensure he was going away for good. The other officer asks her a few questions about the situation, and she tells him everything that happened, down to the fact that they would be filing a restraining order, and that Henry was not allowed to see their show again. 

––––––––––

The six women had gone home after waiting… maybe an extra ten minutes after Parr finished talking to the police officer. The car was dead silent on the ride back to the house, too.

“I’m actually mad about the fact that he’s actually attractive now,” Boleyn rolls her eyes as she walks in after Seymour. “I’m kidding, obvs. But how is he alive? We’ve been free for… who knows how long now and he comes back? What did he want, anyways?” Seymour turned to face Boleyn, giving the brunette a gentle pat on the head. “It sounded like revenge, but I think Cathy has the actual answer to that. We can talk to her when she’s a lot calmer, though… she’s very…”

“Upset, angry… name it, I am probably feeling it.”

“We all are, love…” Anne goes to her, gently taking her hands, looking at them carefully. One’s very busted up, and the blood has now dried and solidified. “Let me clean you up, c’mon.” She motions to the kitchen, and the two head in there, Parr sitting on the counter while Anne gets the first aid kit out. “I’m not ashamed of what I did today.” Parr stares at the floor, expecting some sort of lecture or argument to happen, but it doesn’t.

“You protected me. That’s all I could ever want.” Anne kisses her quickly on the cheek before pouring some hydrogen peroxide on a gauze cloth. Before she starts to press it to Cathy’s knuckles, she looks the girl straight in the eyes. “Don’t be mad for how much this is going to hurt, please.” 

While those two work on that, the other girls drop their bags next to the door and slump into the chairs around the kitchen table, an apparent awkwardness in the air. Jane is the first to speak, and it’s absolutely filled with regret and apology. “Ladies, I am so sorry I lost my cool today. I shouldn’t have gotten so ‘up in arms.’ He just… I never…” She’s tearing up a little, and Kit offers a hand for her to squeeze as she tries to work through her words. She takes a deep breath, brushing some of her blonde hair out of her face. 

“I never got to tell him all of that. All of the resentment.”

Cathy grumbles from the counter, agreeing with her statement. “He sure got a taste of all of my resentment.” Her cheeks were reddening, and Anne doesn’t know what else to do past wrapping the girl’s knuckles, so she lays a kiss on them, hoping that will calm her down. “Shhh… no need to get worked up over that toff, not again.” Her hand goes to hold Parr’s face. “Let’s be happy, okay?” 

“Jane, we all had every right to react the way we did. Even Cathy had a right to bash his ugly face in.” Kit nods reassuringly, and the other queens mumble words of agreement, Anne and Parr silently making their way over to the table. Something about Parr’s energy was off, but the queens wouldn’t question it for the time being. They were all rattled, it didn’t take much to see it. 

“I just feel that as the mother of the group, I reacted rather rashly. I think–” She has to hold back some tears. “I think I should’ve composed myself.” This ends with the ladies all essentially tackling Jane with a group hug, even Parr, though not really seeming to want to participate. It was getting late, anyways, and it was almost time for her to begin her nightly writing. It would help.  

Anne clears her throat. “I think you did perfectly, Jane. He’s an absolute tosser for thinking he could face all six of us at once.” Kit laughs in agreement, and the two head upstairs. Parr quickly dismisses herself, Aragon trailing quickly behind after giving Jane a tight hug. 

Cleves takes Jane’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Gute Nacht, Jane. Versuche nicht zu viel darüber nachzudenken.” Jane sighs. “Still don’t speak German, love.”

“Try not to think too much about it.”

“Catherine,” Aragon knocks on the open door, furrowing her eyebrows. “Mija, what got into you today? That isn’t you. Where… where did you even go?” A sharp look from the sixth wife to the first, before it softened up. It eventually became more of a look of shame as Parr’s eyes went to the bandaged hand. She really did do a number on herself, but that blond haired Tudor nightmare deserved it. She wasn’t wrong, was she? Or, had her morality become such an ambiguous grey area that maybe it was wrong for her to have sucker punched the man who beheaded Katherine Howard so unfairly.

The shameful eyes look up, seeing Aragon’s concern despite the slight scowl. “I’m sorry, Lina. I… no se. Yo lo vi y... Me congelé. Es como si todo el sentido racional dejara mi cuerpo y me quedara con impulso. Lo juro, no... siempre así. Tu lo sabes! Aunque asusté a todos, no?” The hurt in her voice was evident. Parr knew she became the morally ambiguous of the group, which was normally not the good thing. Aragon’s expression lightened up just a little as she approached her goddaughter, and pulled her into a side hug. “Sucede, amor. Pero no te enfades tanto con alguien tan horrible. Seguimos amándote, y siempre nos preocuparemos por ti. Ninguna de nosotras te tiene miedo, y eso te lo prometo.”

Those last words gave Catherine Parr just a little bit of hope. Catherine of Aragon gave one last hug to the woman before heading on out the door, but not without “Don’t stay up late.” being the last thing she said to the sixth wife. 

Kit and Anne stand in the hallway, chatting before going to their rooms, which were across from each other. “Lock your window, Annie, please.” It’s evident that Kit is still very worried about Henry figuring out where they live or figuring out how to get in. Anne nods, despite the fact that they lived on the second floor.. “Of course.” The girls hug and in a matter of seconds, they are both behind their respective closed doors. 

Kit leans against the door for a moment after closing it, but not locking it, and a few silent tears fall before she starts to change into her pajamas. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” She mumbles to herself, turning on her string lights and turning off the main light of the room. She debates what kind of music to listen to, mulling over it for a few minutes before turning on some classical. It was different, but it would work. 

Anne, on the other hand, immediately goes to lock her window and pull the shades closed, which was slightly saddening because she did enjoy looking at the night sky before she fell asleep. She sits on the edge of her bed for a moment, deep in thought about Cathy. She had to admit, the girl she saw today was one she had never seen before, and one she was pretty afraid of seeing again. That fire, while endearing… shook Anne a little. She has to force herself to shake off the thought that anger immediately translates to a person being anything remotely similar to Henry. 

“Right, then… bed it is.” Anne shuts off her lights and lays down, picturing that starry sky in her own mind. It would do. 

Jane settles in with the current book she was reading, a copy of Pride and Prejudice. A story of true love, one could say, and the text was actually helping to calm the blonde down about the events of the day. Aragon peeks in for a moment, and Jane gives her a soft smile, an unspoken agreement that they would be okay.

Though it seemed as if everyone was settling down, Catherine Parr had a storm bigger than a hurricane brewing inside. 

––––––––––

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Catherine Parr let that be the only sound to fill the silence. Normally, it would be music or something, but not tonight.

The calligraphy pen in her hands danced around her fingers, barely having touched the pages of the open notebook. Her vision was still blurred, much to her own surprise. Wrath was a powerful thing, and to have something take over the body for an amount of time would lead to consequences later in the night. In her case, it was a very horrid case of insomnia. While she dealt with insomnia most nights, she had the slightest feeling this was not the typical time to go to bed at 2 in the morning case. The pen began to slow down in her hand, and she held it still for the first time that whole night.

“It’s not the first time you write about how you feel, Cathy. It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.”

It was not fine.

No matter how many times she told herself it would be fine, she could never believe it. Catherine Parr saw her hand shake, just the slightest, every time she wrote. Every memory from the last few hours was hazy, but simultaneously at the forefront of her mind. The usually clean lines of her penmanship were just the bit off from the feelings. Word after word, the anger began to flow onto the pages like water flowing down a river’s stream. So shaky, and so violent were the movements of Parr’s wrist. In comparison to the surprisingly smooth transition from thought to thought, her actions made her look a little crazed. One could even say she looked oddly desperate to finish writing.

Almost as if she was running out of time.

She was a writer in her past life. An author, really. The woman wrote books, psalms, meditations… name it, she probably has a manuscript of it somewhere. But this? This was not her. This frantic drive to write and write until the pages could take no more and the ink began to go through them was not Catherine Parr. In a way, it was almost symbolic. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

There it was again. The ticking of the clock.

Time was no longer a relevant thing for Parr. She just let the time go on.

Last she could remember, it was midnight. But nay, the clock spoke otherwise. A glance at it revealed it to be four in the morning. Her hand and wrist were cramped up, and the tears that she felt falling were drying on her face. The pages had become full of nonsensical phrases, mostly a result of the anger still in her system. But that anger began to fade from anger into a depression.

Why couldn’t she be stronger?

Why didn’t she do enough at the moment?

The pain finally struck her heart. Silence began to be her worst enemy, and something she thought she’d never do is what she did. Parr slams her hands on the desk, crying out, almost as if it were a scream or cry for help. The scream was enough to wake up Catherine of Aragon in an instant. A second and third one woke Jane Seymour and Anna of Cleves up. The fourth one got to Anne Boleyn. In a worried hurry, Aragon got out of bed and ran down the stairs to get to the door before almost ramming it down with her own body.

“Cathy? Mija, what’s the–… Cathy?”

What she saw was a torn woman in front of her. Her bandaged hand had a little blood seeping through the ends. Some of the curls were sticking to her face, and her eyes were all puffy and red. Aragon gently pulled Parr up and into a tight embrace. “Escúchame. Todo está bien, Cathy. Estamos en la casa.” Normally, Aragon had a commanding nature that gave off the feeling of someone being safeguarded behind a wall, but this was one of those moments she was willing to let her wall down. Parr’s grip tightened, with the tears coming back and rushing in like an ocean’s grey waves.

Catherine learned just a smidge of Spanish for her godmother. Enough to get by with a conversation or two, but she was not fluent in any way. “Duele, Lina,” a sniffle. “Todo esto duele y no hice lo suficiente para ayudar.” And there was something about her goddaughter using Spanish in such a defeated manner that made Aragon crack a little on the inside. Her own eyes were welling up with tears as she looked to the door.

Seymour, Cleves, and Boleyn.

All three of them with wide eyes and fairly concerned expressions. But it was Anne who saw the tears forming in Aragon’s eyes and threatening to spill. The two lock eyes and it takes everything in Anne to not crack too. She gives Aragon a look that says, ‘Let me try.’ Lina nods and gives Cathy’s hand a small squeeze, and Anne goes and kneels on the floor in front of her. 

The other three stand in the hallway, knowing it was probably best to give the two a moment. “Did that not wake Kitty?” Cleves pauses, and then points in the general direction of Howard’s room, loud classical music streaming through her closed door. 

Anne takes Parr’s hands. “Cathy, please talk to me… please, love.” It takes Parr a moment to look into Boleyn’s eyes, which are also filled with tears at this point. “It kills me to see you hurting.” A hand goes to wipe some tears from Parr’s cheeks. It lingers there, cupping her cheek, Anne’s thumb reflexively going back and forth to wipe more tears as they fall. 

“It kills me to see you hurting.” Her statement is coupled with a small voice crack, and not one that you would usually find endearing. This was out of pure sadness and anger. She sighs. “I should’ve done more.” She looks at the floor, past Boleyn, though her head is now resting on the girl’s hand. 

“He’s the one that deserves to be on a scaffold!” She starts to sob again, leaning forward, and Anne catches her, in a sense. Shaking with anger, she lets it out, nearly soaking Anne’s shirt in a matter of seconds. “He deserves to die! Why is he here?” Her breathing becomes slightly erratic, heaving breaths joining in with shallow sobs. 

The three in the hallway silently elect to let the two work through it. It really seemed as if Anne was the only one who was going to be able to get her to calm down, even if only a fraction. Aragon lingers for a moment, and then decides finally to go back to her room, leaving the door open in case anyone needed anything. Jane does the same, but reads for a few minutes before going back to sleep. 

Anne isn’t sure what to do, so she stands both of them up, having to support Parr a little, and just holds her, swaying back and forth slowly. “Shh… babe… he doesn’t deserve your tears…” Anne, you preach this, yet you’re a mess too. Albeit, a mess because Cathy is crying, but a mess nonetheless. “He… he’s getting his karma. He has to watch us thrive. And he can’t do a damned thing to us. We’re untouchable.” She was also telling herself this. 

Parr nods quietly, latching on to Anne even more, as if letting her go would mean she’d disappear into thin air. Though she hadn’t actually said it, she knew she loved Anne. More than anything, and if punching Henry in the face was what she had to do to protect her, she’d do it every day for the rest of her life. 

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” She speaks softly, voice scratchy as a result of the outburst. It was nearing five o’clock at this point, but it didn’t matter. With no hesitation, Anne replies with a simple “Of course,”  pulling away slightly to look Parr in the eyes. Those tired, red eyes, still wet with tears formed over a man who didn’t matter one bit. Not in this moment, he didn’t. 

The two make their way to Boleyn’s room, a twin bed being the only place for them, but it would be plenty of space. Anne lays down first, patting the small space next to her for Parr to join. It’s almost as if they’re out as soon as they cover up. 

Kit sleeps through all of this. Perhaps it’s the music blaring from her speakers, or the exhaustion from the events of the day, but it’s the first night the girl doesn’t wake up screaming. The other queens are really surprised to see her downstairs in the morning, looking well rested and pouring herself a cup of tea, seemingly fine. “G’morning.” She yawns, and the others just kind of look at each other as if reality has shifted. “Where are Cathy and Annie?” 

“In bed, still.” 

“Ja.” 

“I should check on them.” Kit says, setting her tea down. Cleves joins her, cringing a little when Kit knocks awfully loudly on the door and pushes it open. “Halt die Klappe, Kit…” Kit turns and looks at her, a puzzled look on her face. Cleves rolls her eyes jokingly, and then whispers again. “You’re too loud.” 

The sight upon opening the door is a combination of comedic and sweet. Parr is absolutely sprawled out on top of Anne, snoring loudly and taking up most of the bed. One of her hands is on Anne’s cheek, as if she had fallen asleep holding the girl’s face. Anne is awake, quietly scrolling through TikTok with headphones in. She looks at the two in the doorframe and smiles, looking down at Parr. ‘We’re okay.’ She mouths, and Jane and Aragon peek in, a small laugh coming from the Spanish queen. It warmed her heart to see the two all bundled up and Parr seemingly at peace, even if only for a moment. 

Parr makes a small noise and shifts, essentially pulling Anne closer and wrapping a leg around her. The ladies all smile, electing to leave the two alone. It was evident that everything would be okay, at least for now. Anne kisses Cathy on the forehead, letting out a happy sigh. Parr subconsciously replies with a small snore, and the two stay there, safe in each other's arms, for most of the day. 

A couple hours seem to pass and it’s about… noon, when Parr starts stirring. Anne notices this, and begins to smile. At least she was waking up. However, things were not going to go to plan, because in comparison to Anne, Catherine was a whole lot taller, and took up just a bit more space. Thinking for a moment she was still in her room, Parr went to try and roll to the other side of the bed, but immediately woke up at not having anything underneath her. A loud enough thudding noise got everyone’s attention.

The other four queens almost immediately ran to the doorframe, and Anne was sitting up.

In typical Boleyn fashion, she was laughing.

Parr on the other hand, was not very happy. “Ow…” Looking up, she just sees the green queen essentially laying back down because of the laughter, and a glance to the doorway reveals four others holding back laughter. “Oh haha, funny that Cathy Parr fell off a bed now is it?”

Through the laughter, Boleyn responds.

“It’s marvelous, love!”

#tw: blood #tw: violence #six #six musical #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #catalina de aragon #anna of cleves #anne boleyn #katherine howard #kitty howard #The Beheaded Cousins Write #sixfic #six fanfiction #parrlyn #aramour

[miafic]

They’d arrived later than they planned (everything took ten times longer with a child involved, Geoff would swear), so that meant that Geoff had to slip into a seat near the back of the church. The Woods had saved him a seat, but he wasn’t about to attempt to navigate through the crowd to find them. He barely had enough time to glance through his program before the lights were lowered and a plump, middle-aged woman appeared, using a microphone to welcome everyone to the service. 

“Our young boys and girls are very excited to show you what they’ve been working on in Sunday School these last few weeks,” she told the crowd. “Thank you so much for encouraging them to be a part of this special service, and Merry Christmas to all of you.” 

This whole thing was slightly strange to Geoff; the only reason that Awsten had been involved in the pageant at all was because Otto told him about the first rehearsal, and Awsten promptly begged Geoff to let him sign up for the show. Of course, Geoff said yes. He didn’t see anything wrong with it. 

Everyone stood and sang as the organist played O Come All Ye Faithful. Geoff watched as the little shepherds wandered onto the stage, and then there was a candle lighting and another song. After that came the angels. Awsten had been interested in the sparkly, silver halos when Geoff first took him to the costume room, but he was soon excited to put his own outfit on and seemed to forget all about it. 

Another candle, another song, and then it was time for the wise men to make their appearance. 

Awsten and Otto paraded out side by side in the cluster of preschoolers, Awsten in a rich purple and deep red outfit, and Otto wearing bright orange and happy yellow. They listened obediently to what the narrator was saying, and then they all sang along to We Three Kings. 

After the song, while more things were happening onstage, Geoff noticed Awsten looking around with a sad little pout on his face. He smiled a little for a brief moment, but then the sadness came back. 

As Geoff continued to watch him, he realized that Awsten was scanning the crowd. Oh - Awsten was scanning the crowd for Geoff. Since he was in the back, Geoff lifted a hand and gave a brief wave. It was enough.

“-our lord Jesus Christ. Peace on earth-”

“HI DADDY!” Awsten cried gleefully, waving back.

The congregation chuckled, and Geoff turned bright red. He quickly made a shushing motion with his lips, but if he was being honest, the embarrassment had been worth seeing Awsten grin from ear to ear. 

When it was over, Awsten sprinted up to Geoff and threw his arms around Geoff’s thighs. “Didja see me up there? Didja see me?” he asked excitedly. 

“Yes, I did,” Geoff replied. He straightened Awsten’s little paper crown. 

“I was in the show!” 

“You most certainly were. I saw both you and Otto. You looked very nice.” 

Awsten pulled Geoff down so he could whisper into his ear, “I liked my costume the mostest of everyone’s!”

“I believe that I did as well,” Geoff agreed. 

“Your son is adorable,” a lady murmured to Geoff with a smile, and Geoff’s embarrassment returned.

“Thank you,” he said awkwardly, but Awsten didn’t even seem to have noticed.

“You stayed in your seat the whole time! I kept checking.” 

“Well, of course I did,” Geoff responded. “Where would I have gone?”

Awsten shrugged. Happily, he declared, “Nobody ever came to see me in a whole entire thing before! My old daddy never came, and Mommy always left in the middle. But you stayed!” He hugged Geoff’s legs again. “Thank you!”

Geoff’s heart ached. He lifted Awsten up and kissed his cheek. 

Awsten wrapped his arms around Geoff’s neck. “I love you.” 

“And I you.” 

Then Awsten wiggled, and Geoff set him down. 

“I wanna have a picture with Otto!” He tacked on, “Please!”

“Yes, that is a good idea. Let us go find the Woods; we are going to their home after this to help prepare dinner.”

“Yay!” 

------

After a whirlwind of photos and cooking and food and Christmas TV shows, it was finally time for bed. Geoff tucked Awsten in and said, “Did you have a nice Christmas eve?” 

“Uh-huh!” Awsten nodded. He was in brand new pajamas from Mrs. Wood, which were covered in reindeer - although Awsten insisted that they were called “mooses.” 

“Uh-member when-”

“Re-member when,” Geoff corrected gently. He leaned over Awsten to tug Oliver out from behind Awsten’s pillow where he wound up every morning. 

Awsten hugged the stuffed frog to his chest. “Re-member when I was in the Christmas play?”

“I do, yes.” 

“That was fun.” Awsten smiled and then quieted, the smile fading. 

Geoff watched his thoughtful face. 

“Are you proud of me?” he wondered.

“Of course I am. I am very proud of you, Awsten. You made a wonderful wise man.” 

Awsten smiled again. “You make a wonderful Daddy.” 

The simple words hit Geoff right in the heart. “Oh,” he whispered, “why... thank you, Awsten.” 

Awsten stayed down on his pillow but reached up for a hug. Geoff leaned down and gave one to him. 

In a whisper, Awsten asked, “You promise Santa’s gonna come?” 

“Yes. As I mentioned, I spoke with him personally.”

Awsten still looked doubtful. “He knows where our house is? For sure?”

“Yes. He wrote the address down with his magic pen.” 

“His magic pen?” Awsten repeated, wide-eyed. 

“Yes. He was sure to read it back to me so that I could confirm that it was correct. But he will not be able to come unless you get right to bed.” 

Awsten nodded hurriedly and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Alright then,” Geoff murmured. He kissed Awsten’s forehead. “Goodnight. Merry Christmas, Awsten.”

Awsten opened his eyes again just a bit. “Merry Christmas Eve! I love you, Daddy!” 

“And I you.”

#foster au #christmas #geoff #awsten #love

[agentdagonet]

Echoes, Ch. 25

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 1516 1718 19 20 21 22 23 24

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

Hey everyone! So I’ve begun working on the alternate ending- which is to say that I’ve finally finished writing the actual story!

Would you all prefer to have updates spaced out, once a week or so, or given to you all at once?

I’ll be updating again on the 18th, so you have until then to vote!

          Michelle Unwin was not a proud woman. She was not a pillar of strength, or monumentally kind- but she was loyal. To the point of fault, when she allowed herself to be blind, but loyal nonetheless. She understood the necessity of secrets, of doublespeak and hidden caches, and knew that there was a time and a place for most everything one could imagine.

          But she was also an impatient woman, desperate to finally finish bridging the gap between she and Eggsy. The one she had accidentally widened by pushing too far in the wake of Merlin’s visit. Eggsy’d rung back later and apologised, but she hadn’t really thought about it all that much until Harry had come by. She hadn’t really bothered to try and see the whole picture.

‘Hey, babes, want to come by for dinner? Makin’ Daisy’s favourite, and I know she’d love to see you- don’ say you’re not feeling well, I was havin’ a chat with Harry earlier and he said you was just lazing about the house.’ She paused, phone propped between her shoulder and head, before nodding. ‘I’ll see you tonight, then- give Harry my love.’ There was a muffled squawking from the phone, I can’t just go and give Harry love, mum, but Michelle cut it off with a small giggle.

          ‘Eggsy coming?’ Daisy tugged at the end of Michelle’s shirt, and she picked her daughter up and tossed her gently in the air.

          ‘Yes is is, flower, and we are gonna make his favourite cookies,’ Michelle kissed one cheek, ‘and your favourite dinner,’ the other, ‘and you’re going to help me pick some flowers for the table, yeah?’ 

          ‘Yeah!’ Daisy ran from the room, and Michelle heard the telltale sound of the back door opening. Eggsy would accept a handful of weeds from her with all the grace of a prima ballerina, but she’d try to at least get Daisy to clear the dirt off, first.

---

          ‘Harry, did I do something?’ Eggsy padded down the stairs, one hand pulling at the hairs at the back of his head as the other started confusedly at his phone. Harry looked up from his place at the dining table briefly before returning to his newspaper.

          ‘I have no idea- you tend to do a rather large number of things on any given day.’

          ‘Ha ha ha, smartarse- why’s my mum know I was home relaxing today?’

          ‘I… wasn’t aware that was a secret? She rang earlier and I mentioned that you were home today... and had only come down from your room an hour or so ago.’ Harry shrugged and turned back to his tea, and Eggsy groaned, dragging a hand down his face before glaring at Harry who, for all intents and purposes, shrugged him off.

          ‘Do you know the last time I had a day where I just got to… be when it wasn’t medical-mandated bed rest?’ Eggsy threw himself down into the chair opposite.

          ‘I don’t keep a detailed mental calendar of your life, Eggsy-’ lie ‘but if your mother and sister want to see you, is it really such a hardship? In fact,’ Harry turned in his seat, and put down his cup, ‘weren’t you saying just a few days ago that you missed them?’ Eggsy flushed and looked away.

          ‘For fuck’s sake- of course I miss them- it’s no’ like being a Kingsman comes with regular hours and shit.’ Harry looked skyward and huffed a breath, why was Eggsy being purposefully obtuse?

          ‘Then what’s the problem?’ Eggsy muttered something that Harry couldn’t make out, and Harry deflated. ‘Eggsy, what’s stopping you from enjoying a meal with your family?’

          ‘I dunno, okay?! I miss them when I’m not around ‘em and then I get there and I feel like an outsider! Mum talks about her work and Daisy’s school and I have to make up some cock and bull story about some ponce and his fabric choices, and-’ Eggsy cut himself off, jaw clenched and Harry leant forward to rest one hand on his shoulder.

          ‘And?’ He dared not point out that lying about his duties as a Kingsman was entirely his own choice at this point. Being a Kingsman came with many risks, and Harry could not fault him for trying to protect the few that were his own- no matter that Michelle had all but figured it out on her own, but Eggsy had no way of knowing that.

          ‘Nothing, Harry. Just tired, is all- I wanted to go back to bed, but we don’ always get what we want, yeah?’ Harry took the deflection at face value- he was not one to push or pry into Eggsy’s personal thoughts if they were not offered freely.

          ‘No, we don’t, unfortunately; but even if it will be a difficult evening, for whatever reason,’ Harry mad eye contact, and smiled softly, ‘you will feel better for it in the morning. Rest is more than physical, after all. So you’re going to go and enjoy dinner with your family, and I’m not going to hear a word otherwise- okay, Eggsy?’

          ‘Yes, Harry.’ Their eyes met, and Eggsy pat the hand on his shoulder once before he sat up from the table and made his way back to his room. While pulling together his clothes- clean, but unfolded and scattered around the room in piles, an organised mess is the only mess- Eggsy remembered his mother’s other instruction before she’d hung up on him. He grinned, and pulled out a pen and a spare bit of paper. See, he’d been the shit in school who had remembered all the useless bits of information he stumbled upon when he was supposed to be working hard.

          For example, how to make a jumping origami frog.

          Eggsy had made hundreds of them- they were easy to make, easy to destroy, and had infinite possibilities of shenanigans when used proper. Draw (or imagine) a circle and you’ve got target practise. Just about anywhere. How small could you make one and still make it jump? How big was just too big? Did cardstock work better than construction paper, or was it too brittle? Paper didn’t make noise and didn’t make a mess, so Dean had never been suspect- and even if he had done, paper was necessary for school and shit. He always had paper.

          Eggsy pulled the cap from the pen and doodled a bit, wrote Michelle’s love in the midst of the senseless scribbling, and got to folding. He gave the finished product a set of eyes, and went about his getting ready for dinner.

          Harry hadn’t moved from his position at the dining table, though he had acquired some biscuits in Eggsy’s absence. Eggsy pat his pockets down with one hand, double checking that he had what he needed, before placing his paper creation on the edge of the table. Harry didn’t look away from his paper, so Eggsy took his opportunity to gauge a goal before pressing his finger to the end and letting it fly.

          The frog landed wrong side up between the edge of the table and the paper. Eggsy threw both fists into the air briefly and grinned to himself as Harry blinked and reached for the unexpected intruder.

          ‘For you!’ Eggsy sauntered out the front door, and left a confused Harry with the paper frog cupped in one hand behind him.

---

          ‘Door’s open!’ It was muffled, but Eggsy heard well enough and let himself into his mum’s house. Daisy was in the sitting room, laying on a plush purple blanket that was wholly unfamiliar to Eggsy and playing with a doll. She didn’t look up from her doll as he made his way into the house.

          ‘Hey, mum,’ Michelle was pulling off mitts, a tray of oddly-shaped bread rolls sitting on the stove, as Eggsy bent his head to press a kiss to her cheek, ‘brought a bottle of that gross bubbly lemonade you like so much. An’ some of the normal kind for Dais’ and I.’ Eggsy dodged the hand that swat out at him with a laugh, put the bottles into the fridge, and ducked back out into the sitting room. ‘Look how big you’ve grown, Daisy!’

          ‘Eggsy!’ Daisy tossed down the doll, careless in a way Eggsy was envious of, before launching herself at him. Eggsy let himself be toppled by her weight, laughing loudly even as his head hit the floor and Daisy propped herself atop his chest. ‘You was gone too long- I missed you.’ Eggsy sat up, cradled Daisy in his arms, and pressed his face firmly into her hair.

          ‘Missed you, too, flower- promise I’ll try to come ‘round more.’ Eggsy spoke softly, eyes shut tightly as if by will alone he could stop himself from feeling like an awful brother. ‘I’ll bring proper prezzies, too- but this time I jus’ brought some lemonade for us.’

          ‘No bubbles?’ Daisy pulled back, brows scrunched together and a small frown on her face, and Eggsy chuckled.

          ‘No bubbles.’

          ‘M’kay. We’s having mac ’n cheese and turtles for dinner!’

          ‘Daisy, you wan’ to show Eggsy how to set the table? It’s been a long time, he prolly don’t remember how to do it right.’ Michelle called from the kitchen, and together the Unwin siblings set the table, Eggsy taking each instruction from Daisy very seriously, and asking if he did it right each time. Eventually, after several no, Eggsy, it goes over here see?’s, the three sat at the table, a small plate piled high with bread-roll turtles and a large bowl of mac ’n cheese passed between them.

          Dinner passed with such ease Eggsy was convinced he was dreaming. He hadn’t spent time with his mum proper since the whole Harry fiasco. Oh, he’d come by now and again but it was always quick, always more of a ‘look I’m alive’ than an honest bit of time spent with the little family he had left. He just… hadn’t known how to move past that moment. 

          He’d apologised, he knew he’d reacted too harshly to what was obviously his mum tryin’ to be, y’know, a mum- but it didn’t feel like enough and Eggsy just… didn’t know what to do. So he avoided the problem, and threw himself into his missions, and he knew it was unhealthy but he couldn’t make himself stop- til his mum and Harry teamed up, apparently. So now, here he was, scrubbing up after dinner, side-by-side at the sink with her, wishing he had words.

          ‘Eggsy, babes? You got anywhere to be?’ Eggsy took a breath, slowly as not to give away how close to breaking down he was, and shook his head, refusing to look away from the dish he was drying.

          ‘Nah, mum, I’m free an’ clear for the next day or so.’ True nobility is being superior to your former self. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready- but, honestly, would he ever be? Had to take a first step somewhere, right?

          ‘Well, let’s put Daisy to bed, and then… maybe, you an’ I can chat a bit?’ Michelle’s voice wavered, but her eyes never left the sink where her hands were idly messing with the suds under the pretense of searching the murky water for more dishes to clean. 

          ‘Sounds good, mum.’

#kingsman #echoes fic #dagonet writes #KINGSMAN FIC

[ktcat88mph]

The Morning After

(( I was inspired to write this little thing after the amazing and talented @minteyeddemon wrote me some fics about her Oc Cade with my Oc Lori here are some links. https://minteyeddemon.tumblr.com/post/188257396967/ko-fi-commission-for-ktcat88mph

https://minteyeddemon.tumblr.com/post/188326775602/ko-fi-commission-for-ktcat88mph

Lori sighed happily as she sipped her morning coffee. His words still echoing in her mind.

"Get used to seeing me more often, Lori."

She felt herself blush as she thought about it, touching the mark Cade left on her neck. Ugh, she can't believe how much of an affect that man had on her. It drove her crazy and yet… She found herself hoping he was telling the truth, that she would see that stupid, insufferable, smug, handsome face again soon. She gave her cheek a little slap to get her out of her silly daydreams, just in time too because she saw Alex about to walk into her store.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Lori ducked behind the counter and quickly wrapped a scarf around her neck, hiding the mark. If her cousin saw it she would never hear the end of it. The tall blonde came bouncing into the store.

"Now where did my favorite person disappear to?" She called out. Lori grabbed a pen out of her pocket as she stood up.

"Dropped my pen."

Alex smiled and practically leapt over the desk to hug Lori.

"I missed you so much! You should have come on vacation with us!" She had a vice grip Lori couldn't escape.

"Yeah, yeah, but I had some issues in the shop remember?" She tried to push Alex off.

"Oh yeah, did you ever catch the asshole who kept breaking your window? Were they even stealing anything?"

Lori's face flushed red, the subject she had hoped to avoid came up. "I-it was handled." She avoided eye contact with Alex.

"Glad that was taken care of. Hey, what's with the scarf? It's like eighty something degrees out."

Lori tightened her grip on the scarf. "No reason, just felt like wearing it." Alex gave Lori a grin that would give the Cheshire Cat a run for it's money. Lori's eyes darted from Alex to her desk.

"Stop staring at me like that." Alex quickly went for Lori's sides, tickling her mercilessly. She yelped and quickly reached out to grab Alex's hands, giving Alex the opening she needed.

"HA! I knew it!! You were hiding a hickey!"

Lori covered the mark with her hand quickly. "It's not a hickey!!" Alex tugged Lori's hand away and looked at the mark. "Okay, fair enough. Not a hickey, but that is definitely quite the love bite. So… Who is the mystery lover?" Alex waggled her eyebrows. Lori groaned loudly, resting her head against the counter.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you. You're making a big deal out of nothing!" Alex propped herself up on the counter. "Then tell about this little deal, that is totally not a sign of you moving on from that prick Eric." Lori glared at her cousin. "You're lucky I don't completely hate you."

Alex pinched Lori's cheek. "Aw, I wub you too. Now spill it and don't leave out the juicy details." Lori rolled her eyes and told Alex about how she caught Cade in a magic trap and how things have developed between them. The late night visits, the raiding of her fridge and panties.

"Last night I got a little carried away and bit him, then one thing led to another and he marked me." Her hear began to race as she recalled everything between them. Alex smiled playfully. "Ooh, that's so hot. He must be something to knock your socks off." Lori slammed her hands down on the counter. "N-no! He is vulgar, smug, blunt and… and…!" She grumbled and hid her head again. "Oh god… I do like him…" Alex shrugged her shoulders.

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Don't overthink it, just have fun with the guy and whatever happens, happens. Don't you think you've spent enough time single?" She squeezed Lori's shoulder.

"You can't let what happened with Eric hold you back anymore. He never deserved you and as much as I hate saying this, the bright side is that you found out before you married the prick."

Lori sighed and leaned her head on Alex's lap. "Have I ever mentioned that I hate it when you're right?" Alex took advantage of the brief sign of affection and stroked her hair.

"Constantly because you always have to be right Ms. Smarty Pants."

Lori chuckled and relaxed. She decided to just enjoy the fun she and Cade were having and not think too much about the small stuff. (Like starting to catch feelings, shut up. I'm not and how dare you?)

"So… is he hot? I bet he's smokin'. He has to be to get my little repressed nerd to open up." Alex held up her hands in an absurd distance apart. "What's the hottie packing?"

Lori rolled up a newspaper and started hitting Alex with it, her face as red as a tomato.

"I should turn you into a frog!!"

Alex ran from Lori, trying to avoid getting hit. The two women running around the store laughing like a couple of teenagers.

"Hey wait!" Alex stopped, panting softly. "Isn't marking or whatever like werewolf marriage and won't you having his scent get other werewolves attention?"

Lori blinked. "Huh, well shit. That's a good question. I'm sure I have a book on the subject somewhere."

#oc lori #oc cade #oc Alex #@mintyeyeddemon #original character

[uas-fics]

Title: Kitty Kiss

Summary: Tweek’s a witch whose magic is wild, and Craig his boyfriend who he accidentally turned into a cat last year.

Rating: T

Ships: Creek

Other: This was actually a request by LonelyLesbianspizza on instagram from...October. ^^; It got lost under my messy files.

~~~~~

His professors must have a screw loose, that's the only explanation for assigning this much work over the holiday weekend.

Or, they just hate him.

Actually, that's probably it.

Tweek's professors just hate him. Given that he's accidentally set no less than three classrooms ablaze, that fact shouldn't come as a surprise to him.

Tweek scratched his scalp with his chewed down nails.

"How is that wrong?!" He muttered, flipping to the back of the book to double check. "Frog's sweat and carrot juice have always been a substitute for eye of newt. Why wouldn't it work here?"

Tweek slumped forward, scanning the answer glossary. As he read something about the effects of frog's sweat in potions containing nightshade, his familiar trotted up to his chair.

Craig looked at him for a long moment, eyes gleaming in the lamplight, before tensing his muscles and taking a leap.

He landed neatly on Tweek's shoulders. Tweek jumped, nearly bolting up and knocking the creature from his back. He caught himself and froze just in time when he heard a soft mewl.

Craig sprawled out over Tweek's warm shoulders, his head, and front paws dangling down his front on the left with his tail and hind legs on the right.

He purred against Tweek's neck as he nuzzled his nose against the fabric of his shoulder.

Tweek smiled softly. He reached up and began to scratch Craig behind the ears.

"Thanks, Craig," Tweek mumbled, feeling a little of his stress melt away.

"No problem, honey," Craig meowed. He gently headbutted Tweek's palm, forcing his boyfriend to pet his thick black fur.

Craig always knew when Tweek was overworking himself. He had long ago taken upon himself to make sure that Tweek took a break before he collapsed from exhaustion.

Craig had been especially diligent lately. He saw how Tweek threw himself into his school work. At one point, Craig had to take Tweek’s sleeve in his teeth and pull him to the kitchen to eat after a ten-hour cram session.

It was hard work, but Craig didn’t mind. How could he? Tweek put out all this effort for him, after all.

Tweek maneuvered so he could take Craig from around his shoulders into his arms. Holding the cat his chest, his pressed his nose into the warm fur. His fur smelled like pine again. Clearly, he’d been sleeping in Stripe’s cage again.

Craig purred louder, reaching up his front paws up in a fruitless attempt to wrap them around his shoulders like he used to do — before the accident.

Tweek felt his stomach twist.

Craig knew Tweek was a witch since the day they met. Craig had stopped by the Tweak family coffee shop with some friends and saw Tweek get egged on by his parents to perform some prestidigitation spells.

He also saw the magic backfire and a muffin turn a glowing neon green and then deflate like a balloon into a puddle of floury mush. Tweek’s magic was wild. A simple color change glamour might turn into garish glitter bomb. The most basic of levitation spells could send items through the roof into the stratosphere.

Tweek was a terrible witch. He knew it. His parents knew it. His teacher and friends knew it. Craig knew it, too, but he didn’t seem to care and still gave him his number on a napkin.

Of everyone, Craig was about the only person who ever truly still believed Tweek would ever get a handle on his hectic spell casting.

He was so sure of Tweek's control, that when he came across a spell in one of Tweek's textbooks (one about giving humans the ability to talk to animals), he had no qualms asking Tweek to perform it on him.

If only Tweek hadn't beefed the spell so bad. Talking with Stripe the guinea pig would have been loads of fun!

But Tweek did beef it. He beefed it so bad, and now his boyfriend was a magic, talking black cat.

"Craig," Tweek mumbled into his neck, "Why don't you hate me? I took your life from you."

Craig pressed his head under Tweek's chin. "It's not your fault. You tried to talk me out of it, but, no, I was too stubborn."

Tweek made a sound of uncertainty in the back of his throat. True, Craig hadn't backed down when Tweek started to get nervous while preparing the spell, but Tweek knew the spell was too difficult for him.

"Shouldn't matter." Tweek started to shake. "I've taken nearly a half a year from you, and probably even more before I can turn you back." He pulled him closer. Sobs started to crawl up his throat.

Craig scrambled back, flipping over himself and landing on all four paws atop Tweek's open textbook. A determined fired burned in his eyes.

"We're not going through this again, Tweek. I wanted you to cast the spell on me. I am at fault here, not you. Never you, ok? Jesus, Tweek." His tail lashed, knocking a pen to the floor.

Tweek shirked back, looking away. "But — "

"No buts." Craig cut in. He took a breath. The raised fur on his shoulders flatted back down. "Sorry, Tweek, but, I hate you blaming yourself for this. Besides, it's not that bad. I like being a cat. It's pretty sweet to be able to sleep anywhere I want. I can almost understand what Stripe is saying, sort of," he dragged his tongue along his paw, "and I don't need to waste time showering."

Tweek wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head. "You couldn't finish getting your degree."

"Fuck school." Craig ran his paw over his ear.

Another 'but' pressed against Tweek's teeth. No matter what Craig claimed, guilt still gnawed at his stomach.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair Tweek was born with unstable magic. It wasn't fair Craig fell in love with him. It wasn’t fair Craig was a cat. None of it was fair.

Craig turned his head to the side. "You know, there is one thing we haven't tried to turn me back.” His ear flicked. “A way that doesn’t require you to cast any magic at all.”

"I told you, dude,” Tweek shook his head, “this is the kind of transformation magic that only the one who cast it can remove." Tweek slumped down. "I just have to buckle down and study harder. I have to cast the reverse spell, no one else."

Craig wrinkled up his nose at the mention of studying.

"No, I mean, we haven't tried 'true love's kiss'," Craig nodded sharply at Tweek. "True's love's kiss fixes everything in fairy tales."

Tweek chuckled. A smile played on his lips as he reached out to stroke Craig's side. Craig really was the best at calming him down when he overdid himself.

"The paper I wrote to get the scholarship to this school was how true love's kiss is bullshit magic. It's just a placebo." Tweek scratched under his chin with a smile. "Besides, how am I suppose to kiss you? You don't have lips, Mr. Kitty-Cat."

"Straight on the mouth," Craig explained as he ducked his head down before pushing it to Tweek’s palm. "It can't hurt to try, can it? Besides, I miss kissing you."

Tweek dropped his hand with a chuckle. "You know what? Alright. Let’s try it." He scooted his chair back so he could lean forward and look eye to eye with his boyfriend.

Craig's eyes glinted with delight. He straightened up, puffing out his chest. Tweek snorted a laugh as he leaned forward with his lips pucked. He felt like a child, giving an awkward kiss to his grandmother.

Craig leaned forward as well, gently tapping his kitty lips to Tweek's.

It wasn't a kiss like they had before — not even close — but Craig didn't dwell on that. Instead, he let the warm feeling of love and affection grow in his chest. It grew and expanded, filling every limb. It intertwined with the fibers of his muscles and within each strand of fur.

He raised his paw and pressed the pad against Tweek's cheek. A terrible kiss or not, he didn't want that feeling to ever leave, but it did. In its wake, Craig's body began to ache and feel heavy.

He winced back, sitting back on his legs before going to rub his elbows joints.

"C-Craig!" Tweek gasped, scrambling to his feet. His chair fell back with a clatter that didn't seem to be as loud as it should have been. Even standing, Tweek should have towered over Craig, but he didn't. Instead, he stood at the same height, eyes even with each other.

He reached out, then froze as his eyes landed on his very human hand, attached to his very human arm, and then his very human body.

"It worked..." Tweek's mouth gaped. "It worked?!"

Craig patted his furless chest and shoulders down before reaching up to feel his face. No whiskers, no cold nose. His ears were on the sides of his head and so very human.

He laughed breathy once, running his hands through his hair.

"It did! It really did! Holy--I was just trying to be romantic!" Craig scrambled off the table. After months of being on four legs, he’d forgotten how exactly one walked on two legs and stumbled. Tweek grabbed him, partly for support and partly to pull him into his arms.

He nuzzled against him. Tweek's chest felt tight with relief and happiness. Tears began to well up in his eyes. Sobs of joy hiccuped from his throat.

Craig laughed, wrapping his arms around Tweek. "Looks like you'll need to rewrite that paper, huh?"

"Fuck, I'll change my whole field of study for this!" He hugged him back, squeezing him a little too tightly around the chest.

But Craig didn't complain. Even if true loves kiss was a fluke and this was the result of Tweek's wild magic, he wouldn't ever complain.

#creek #sp creek #south park #tweek tweak #Craig Tucker #fanfiction #one-shot #witch tweek #request

[toutallyahoe]

Crushes pt 1

ＲＥＱＵＥＳＴＥＤ ＢＹ:

ChibiNetherlands from Quotev

ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ/Ｓ:

Tokoyami Fumikage x Male Reader

Ａ/Ｎ:

Love for th bird boi <3

Also, this is my first requested chapter sooo

Fuck

ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲＳ:

Crushes pt 1 | Crushes pt 2

═══════════════════════

The familiar smell of pastries and caffeine filled a young [Hair color] haired male's senses as he entered the homey looking café. The café was not small nor large, just in the middle of the two with a cream and brown color painted the interior of the shop's walls. Small trinkets hanged occasionally on the walls to give some design on it as the lights were a bit dimmed since it was orange that is located on the walls, while the white ones can be seen in the ceilings. CC Café or CC was the name of the place.

A small ring echoed the almost half empty café as students chatted along with their company or doing work, occupying a table with some orders beside them.

The [Hair color] haired male let out a relaxed sigh as he gripped his brown messenger bag's strap. [Eye color] colored eyes scanned the insides of the shop as he walked towards an empty table near the windows.

When getting there, he sat and slowly slung his bag beside him. Looking at the outside of the window. [Name] let out another sigh as he stared at the almost busy street. 'How boring...' The male thought as he continuously stare.

"Ah, what would you like to order?" A gruff voice manage to let the [Hair color] haired male out of his thoughts. Looking at his right, he saw a tired looking man with black hair tied behind him. A bit of stuble underneath his chin and tired look on his face as he held the pen and notepad in the other. A cream colored apron tied on his waist, indicating he was a waiter.

"Oi, kid. I don't have all day here." The older male said as he frowned at the sitting student. Shaking his head, the [Hair color] haired male let out an awkward chuckle as he quickly grabbed the small but decorated menu on top of the table he sat at, scanning the menu until he found something he settled on.

"Um, I would like a strawberry shortcake and vanilla iced latte." The [Hair color] haired student muttered as the waiter wrote down and nodded to him. "Your order will be delivered shortly." The older male muttered as he left the [Hair color] haired student to continue his job.

'He probably hates working here...' The young [Hair color] haired male thought as he look at the tired male for awhile then looking at the brown bag beside him. Shrugging himself, the male pondered for a bit until he concluded he might as well do something while waiting for his order.

'Might as well continue reading it.' [Name] thought as he opened his bag and took out a black covered book. Large english text can be seen on the cover the book that says, "What's Hidden In The Dark". A small smile formed on his lips as he opened the book where he bookmarked it and began reading the text.

His eyes slowly scanned each word with wonder as the smile never left his lips. The [Hair color] haired enjoyed these kinds of books. Mystery, thriller, horror and gore. It always kept him in the edge as he always try to decipher what and how will the book will end. Each time he read the book, he never seemed to grew bored of it.

The [Hair color] student seemed to not care about the world as he was intrigue on the book he was reading. The [Hair color] haired male did not seem to notice red eyes staring at him with curiosity.

•

"--mi-kun"

"--oyami-kun"

"Tokoy--"

"--ami--"

"TOKOYAMI-KUN!!!"

The bird headed male snapped out of his thoughts as he quickly snapped his head to the direction of the noise. His red colored eyes found himself looking on the floating clothes in front of him, Hagakure Toru, the one was trying to get his attention awhile ago, pouted as the bird headed male sighed.

"Man, when you said you like this guy, you didn't specify you would ogle him despite the distance!" Hagakure exclaimed as she then giggled when she saw the male quickly look away. Some of his black feathers standing up, indicating that he was embarrassed. "Leave the poor guy alone, Hagakure-san." A soft but firm voice chimed, Yaoyorozu Momo, said as she look up from her book she was reading.

Hakagure only giggled as she look at the direction on where Tokoyami was staring before. She saw the [Hair color] haired male reading a book, a small smile on his face as he read.

The invisible girl couldn't help but giggle again as she turned her attention back to the shadow user and started poking him. "Tokoyami-kun l-i-k-e-s myste-- OW!" Hakagure didn't finished her tease as she was hit in the head with Yaoyorozu's book.

"Sorry about her, Tokoyami-san." The ravenette said as she gave a small apologizing smile to the male. Tokoyami only nodded his head as his gaze slowly went back to the direction of the [Hair color] haired male who was now drinking his ordered drink and the cake was in the table he was occupying, still untouch.

'Vanilla iced latte... Must have been brought when I was being teased...' The bird head thought as he quickly turned away when the [Hair color] haired male looked around the café.

"This shit is so pathe-- FUCK!" The explosive blond, also known as Bakugou Katsuki, was lightly slapped on his arm by the blue haired and glasses wearing male, Iida Tenya.

"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE BAKUGOU-SAN! WE ARE IN A PUBLIC AREA!"

"LIKE I FUCKING CARE GLASSES FUCK!"

"IS THIS HOW YOU BEHAVE AT YOU HOME AS WELL?!?"

"FU--"

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!!!"

The two male's quickly shut their mouth when Yaoyorozu shouted at the both of them. Normally, Bakugou would have retorted something back but when the female's glare was directed to him. He knew when to keep his mouth shut.

The green haired boy with freckles on his face, Midoriya Izuku, slowly sweated when he looked around and saw the noises his group was making was attracting unwanted attention. Especially the guy one of his classmate is crushing on was directly looking at them, his book seemed to be put down as he watched them with amusement.

"U-uh... T-tokoyami-san? T-t..." Midoriya was fumbling with his words as he sweated more. He was nervously shaking as each of his classmates was looking at him. "Spit it out, Deku!" A loud shout and an anger glare from the explosive blond made the poor boy let out a loud squeak. "T-the g-guy! U-uh, he's l-looking here!" Midoriya stuttered out as he quickly pointed at the direction of the [Hair color] haired male's table and truth be told, when everyone of them looked, the male was indeed looking at them with a raise brow and a small smile on his lips.

Noticing the multiple gazes of the Yuuei's students, the [Hair color] haired male slowly raised his right hand and gave a small quick wave to them until he went back to his book. Tokoyami honestly felt his feathers stand up again as he quickly turned his gaze to his hand. He was already having trouble controlling his quirk not to practically pounce the [Hair color] haired male across the room and some of his peers teasing was not helping at all.

When they asked him if he had like someone in their Truth or Dare game they did days ago. He did not expect almost all of his classmates was interested on the person he was pinning on. At all.

It was also his quirk's fault for revealing the "classified" information, and he curses Dark Shadow for having his own mind sometimes. Now here he is, along with almost 3/4 of his classmates in the homey café he normally visits at the end of classes to get a drink and snacks.

"Oi, can you all keep it down? There's still other costumers here." The tired waiter said as he put down some of the student's orders on the table. A small glare fixacated on each student as he did. Midoriya immediately stood up and said his apologies, a bit nervously, while the red spiky haired male, Kirishima Eijiro, quickly put one of his hand on the explosive male's mouth, harderning it just in case Bakugou would bite him.

A shaky grin on his lips, his unnatural pointy teeth showing, as he sweated a bit from the angered explosive male. "S-sorry about that mister, we'll be more quieter!" Kirishima said as he felt Bakugou trying to break free from his grip on his face and was shouting muffled curses. The waiter looked at them, specifically at the sweating red head and the angered blond, then left. Going back to do his job.

"Man, that guy reminds me of Aizawa-sensei..." Kaminari Denki, the blond boy with an odd birthmark on his hair, abruptly said to break the tense atmosphere. It was silent for awhile until many of his classmates agreed on his statement.

"They do have obvious similarities, kero." The green haired female with frog attributes, Asui Tsuyu, croaked out as she look at the waiter who was wiping one of the tables with a passive look on his face. She then thought off of her grumpy teacher. Her index finger on her cheek as her tongue stuck out.

"I agree with that guys," Uraraka Ochaco started, her fingers laced together as she nudge her head on the direction of the the bird headed male who was drinking his drink, occasionally looking at the [Hair color] head a bit. "but I think we should get back to why we're here in the first place?" She asked.

"B-but didn't w-we kinda just went here to see Tokoyami-san's cr-- i-interest...?" Midoriya butted in as he sweatdropped when most of his classmates were busy either teasing the bird male or giggling and pointing at the reading [Hair color] head. Some grumbling or being more civil and consuming their ordered foods.

"Couldn't Tokoyami-san just talk to the guy?" The half hot and half cold male, Todoroki Shouto, asked as he took a bite out of his cake. A blank look on his face when he noticed everyone of his peers were looking at him with surprise.

"I just don't get it, why can't him" He started as he pointed his fork to Tokoyami's direction then to the [Hair color] haired male who was a bit away from them. "just talk to that guy?" He finished as his classmates continue to stare at him, his face still held the blank look. It was silent for awhile until some of the Yuuei students laughed at the oblivious red and white haired male or screamed in disbelief.

"What the hell, Todoroki-san?!?"

"S-seriously?!?"

Some of his classmates cried in anguish as the said male just looked at them, not changing his facial expression. Tokoyami let out a quiet groan as he folded his arms on the table and hid his head in embarrassment and shame. His quirk coming out beside him, trying to urge him to go talk to the [Hair color] haired male, a few tables away from them. "I just don't get it, Uraraka-san." Todoroki said as he began eating his cake again.

"Well, you... Uhh, y-you see, Todoroki-san... It's not that easy...?" Uraraka said, a bit hesitantly as she tried to come up with better words to interpret what she needed to say. The said male just gave her a blank look and was silently questioning why. The bubbly brunette couldn't help but sweatdrop by the cold male's obliviousness as she tried to find the right words to explain.

"When you l-like someone... U-um..." Each student noticed Uraraka's trouble of explaining but did not help her. 'WHY IS THIS GUY OBLIVIOUS ANYWAY?!?' Majority of the 1-A class thought as they internally cringe on the brunette trying to explain and was not succeeding on it.

"U-uhh, it's because... Um..." Uraraka trailed off as she played with her thumb while trying to look away from the cold male's gaze. "I-it's because you h-have catterp-- I mean b-butterflies in your stomach?!?" Midoriya finished off as he waved his hand frantically on his face. Todoroki was quiet for a bit as his index and thumb finger was on his chin. "I see..." The male muttered as some of the 1-A class sighed in relief since the male can be pretty dense most of the time.

"But can you digest them, can you not, Tokoyami-san?"

"THAT WAS NOT WHAT WE MEANT TODOROKI-SAN!!!"

"OH MY GOD WHY TODOROKI-SAN?!?"

"OI, BRATS, KEEP IT DOWN WILL YA?!?"

"SORRY TIRED-SA-- I MEAN AIZA-- AH- MISTER WAITER!!!"

Tokoyami raised his head only look at each one of his classmates in utter despair from being an embarrassment at that moment. The raven head boy couldn't help but face palm in utter disappointment as he shook in head. His quirk getting out again as it cackled on it's user's despair. "Such a mad banquet of darkness..." The male muttered as he stared at his classmates again. Even the responsible ones, Yaoyorozu and Iida, were in such a predicament.

Tokoyami looked at the table of the [Hair color] haired male again and saw the student was looking at him. His red orbs clashed with [Eye color] ones as the two stared at each other. The moment Tokoyami broke eye contact was when he realize he was caught staring, his feathers perked up again as he quickly turned his head back to his classmates. Not seeing the small smile on the [Hair color] haired male he was staring at when he turned away.

An awkward cough was made by Yaoyorozu as she gave an apologetic smile to the direction of the glaring waiter a few tables away from them. "Anyways, guys," She started as she quietly slammed her hand on the surface of the table, getting the attention of her classmates. "I think we should get back to our purpose here, yes?" She said as she firmly looked at each of her classmates, silently daring them to have good behavior or else.

•

To say the least, the loudness of the Yuuei students always seemed to distract the [Hair color] haired male from reading his lovely literature. With a sigh, he put his book down on the table and just started to eat the cake he ordered. Occasionally, he would look at the direction of the famous Yuuei students and would often catch a peculiar student gazing at him.

Now, he would be often be annoyed but oddly enough, he found the gaze of the student quite interesting. The student afterall had a bird head that he questions why the black colored feathers are always bit perked up. 'Must be a side effect of his quirk perhaps?' The [Hair color] haired male thought as he continued to eat his cake.

The [Hair color] haired male is rather interested on how the bird Yuuei student quirk works. He would not lie when he saw the bird head at the Yuuei Sport Festival, he manage to caught his attention. A small smile formed on his lips when he caught the bird male's gaze again as he finally gave a small wave at the bird head.

A small chuckle left his lips as the Yuuei male student gave a small timid wave back at him. What made him chuckle though was when the bird male's quirk suddenly appeared and said something to his user that made the bird head's feather perked up more and looked away from him.

'Perhaps I should talk to him?' The [Hair color] haired male thought as he finally finished eating his cake. A small smile formed on his lips as he gazed at the window beside him. 'He really do seem interesting...' The male mused as his [Eye color] eyes took a sight on the passing vehicles and people on the other side of the glass window.

Closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent of pastries and caffeine, the [Hair color] haired male was shook out of his mellow stupor when he heard a forced cough near him. Opening his eyes as he turned his head to find the peculiar Yuuei student who he always caught gazing at him.

[Eye color] orbs clashed with red ones as the [Hair color] haired male rosed a brow at the bird headed student. "Yes?" The male questioned as he mused at how the bird headed male seemed to look away, raising his right hand and rubbing the back of his neck. His black feathers seemed to perk up as he avoided the amused [Eye color] orbs that looked at him.

"I... I-I--" Tokoyami's throat seemed to have gone dry as his mind went blank. The bird head looked at the direction of his table and saw his classmates and friends urging him to go on. Not really hiding their obnoxious encouragement. The bird head slowly looked away from his class' out of embarrassment and tried to turn his gaze to the male sitting in front of him. He tried to avoid the eye contact as much as possible, he just then looked at his red shoes and the floor, finding it more interesting as he continued out his sentence.

"-- I w-was-- uhh" Tokoyami stuttered out as he then heard a chuckle making his feather more perked up out of his embarrassment. "Do you perhaps want to join me?" That gotten his attention. Hearing that, Tokoyami looked up and saw the [Hair color] haired boy look at him with milled amusement twinkling in his [Eye color] eyes.

"I wouldn't mind. Come sit." [Name] gestured to the bird headed male as he gave a small smile. The [Hair color] haired male let out a small chuckle as he saw the bird headed male gladly sat in front of him but still avoided eye contact. Looking at both his hands that settled the table's top.

There was an awkward silence for the two as neither didn't seem to know what to start a conversation until one of their gazes wondered at the book the other was now holding. "What's hidden in the dark...?" Tokoyami muttered as his eye brows furrowed, looking at the black colored cover of the book where the title was engraved on. That manage to perk a reaction out of the [Hair color] haired as he look at the student in front of him. Setting his book down as his lips formed into a large grin.

"Oh? You heard about this?" The male asked as he gestured at the book. His smile brighten he saw Tokoyami nodded. His tense posture seemed to relaxed as he finally had his eyes contact with the other. "Yes, I read that book awhile ago." The [Hair color] haired let out a humm as he nodded at the other's brief explanation.

"The book was really thrilling to read with all the twist and turns of the plot. It's kinda dark but still quite enjoyable." Tokoyami stated as he tapped his fore finger on the surface of the table.

"That's quite remarkable as not many are often willing to learn a language just to read the book and liking it from it's dark and deep plot." [Name] praised the bird head as he looked at the book and traced the engraved title with his fingers. A smile on his face as he did.

Looking up, he saw the bird headed male looking at him and the book he held. Letting out an awkward cough as small pink tainted his cheeks from embarrassment on getting caught in his own world while he gazed fondly on his book.

"Pardon me about that. I just do enjoy the book much from it's deeper interpretation on the things human kind are afraid of." The [Hair color] haired male apologized, other male nodding as he look at the other in curiosity. "It's alright. Glad to know someone enjoys those kinds of book." Tokoyami said to the other.

There was an awkward silence took place onto the two males as the two tried to think of another conversation. [Name] thought off something and was about to start another conversation when he was abruptly hit by something or rather someone and was rubbing themselves on his neck.

Looking down he saw the Yuuei student's quirk seemed to be rubbing its head on his neck and let out occasional squawks. "U-um..."

If Tokoyami could blush he would have as he stared in horror at his quirk who was rubbing it's head on the male in front of him and he didn't know what to do. He curses Dark Shadow with every swear words he knew and curses in his mind as he tried to talk the living shadow away from the [Hair color] head.

"Dark Shadow come back he--"

"So his name is Dark Shadow, huh?" [Name] piped in as he rub the bird lile creatures's head in an affectionate manner. The living shadow let out more squawks as it rub its head on [Name]'s hand. Side-glancing its owner and Tokoyami swore, if the shadow could smirk. It would have given him the most shit-eating smirk it could muster.

"Y-yeah. I apologize for his behavior," Tokoyami seemed to trailed off as he actually did not know the other male's name. Well, he actually does but he didn't want to look like a stalker when they haven't officially met and getting labeled a creep as he already knew the other's name.

[Name] seemed to figure out that he did introduce himself yet and gave a soft smile. "[Last name]. [Last name] [Name], and you are?" [Name] said as he look at Tokoyami. The bird head nodded his head as he conitnued his apology. "I apologize for my quirk's behavior, [Last name]-san. I'm also Tokoyami, Tokoyami Fumikage."

The [Hair color] haired directed a smile at the other as he urge the shadow creature to go back to it's owner. The shadow let out a whine but slowly comply and went back to Tokoyami and hid back inside the male. "It's nice to meet you Tokoyami-san." [Name] said as he rosed his hand to shake the other's hand. Tokoyami took the other's hand and shook it as he nodded. "Likewise [Last name]-san."

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NEXT

#boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #my hero academy #tokoyami fumikage #fumikage tokoyami #tokoyami x male reader #male reader #fluff

[my-decade]

Some simple RFA headcanons

Jumin: -loves when his s/o wears red lipstick-not nearly as kinky as people think he is -has no idea what curly fries are -fave animal after cats are fish, which is why he has them in his house -when he’s super stressed you may catch him standing there staring at the fish with a dead look in his eyes -knows the sesame street theme song by heart (this one is kinda canon lol) -was deathly afraid of the character big bird as a toddler and would cry when he saw him, but grew out of it quickly -got teary eyed at mc and V’s wedding -once asked jaehee to bring him a popular flavor of donut so he could try it. when she put the glazed donut in his hand, he stared at it for about 20 seconds as it started to melt on his fingers before looking up at her and saying blankly, “It’s gross.” -but he secretly ate it later anyway out of pure curiosity  -doesn’t care much for TV but has somehow seen the fullmetal alchemist series and he actually really enjoyed it, but nobody knows this -Was once offered a laffy taffy at work, to which he replied, “No thank you. I must not laugh at work.” -he said this with an impassive face in attempt to make a joke. -it did not make his employee laugh. -likes pizza but has only tried the fancy, healthy gourmet version his chef makes for him -gets along surprisingly well with young children

Zen: -Loves playing with his s/o’s hair idly. like he’ll be turning a random lock of her hair in his fingers when they’re next to each other even though his own hair is long enough to do that  -is used to getting compliments so they don’t surprise him EXCEPT when his s/o compliments him, it still makes him blush because he knows she’s not saying it to suck up to him, it’s an honest compliment -has never been to the beach or seen the ocean in real life, but he thinks it would be a really romantic setting for a date -cried when his first child was born -is okay at cooking but TERRIBLE at baking even in a toaster oven he somehow always burns it -last one in the RFA to get married -he describes his eye color as “bright ruby” -loves watching plays as much as he loves acting in them, and has written drafts of plays of various genres and themes -loves Mexican food -has been cutting his own hair for 4 years now to save money -a big fan of Beyonce  -has seen Phantom of the Opera 7 times already and owns it on VHS

Jihyun: -can’t sleep in complete darkness, so he actually uses a night light -he used to visit the aquarium with jumin when they were kids -not too keen on PDA but he does have a habit of kissing mc’s hand in public and often holds her hand -doesn’t care for horror movies, but they don’t scare him either -loves rock music, and piano paired with electric guitar -is terrible at playing instruments -doesn’t like bell peppers -eats cheerios bc he thinks they really do help with cholesterol  -its really difficult to make him angry, and when he does get angry it can be hard to tell because his face will be really calm and he still might even be smiling -jumps a lil when he hears someone curse in public (LOL) -loves the desert and uses it as inspiration for his paintings a lot -can speak the most english out of everyone in the RFA except for Saeyoung, who knows 18 languages -was never called by his name (Jihyun) by anyone except MC, including Rika. -doesn’t know much about memes but he likes Kermit the frog -grows a lot of flowers, herb, and vegetables in a backyard garden, where he spends a lot of time in with a giant sun hat like a really cute old man -has that super beautiful, charming Chris Traeger-esque smile that can convince anyone to say agree with him, but this doesn’t work on the RFA since all the talking is done in chatrooms or the phone and they know him too well

Saeyoung: -scared of butterflies -Elizabeth 3rd actually REALLY likes him and Jumin lowkey hates it so much -tried to hold a seance for the internet famous cat Tama, a calico cat who worked as a station master at the Kishi station railroad in Japan before passing away -really good at diy, he and mc do a lot of random and possibly crazy science experiments in their house  -once pranked mc by acting upset and then telling her he was pregnant and she was the father, mc actually believed him for a solid 9 seconds -current password for his front door has to be spoken in an accent like Shrek -can dance perfectly the entire song “Catallena” by orange caramel -he and mc rarely fight but when they do disagree on something he’ll talk to her in another language just to get on her nerves. it makes her laugh but also stuns her bc it reminds her of how freaking smart he is bc he knows 18 diff languages -on the other hand when she’s mad at him she won’t call him Saeyoung, she’ll call him Luciel, and on the rare occasion where she’s really pissed at him, “Seven Zero Seven.” -Loves the song Rocketman by Elton John -forgets to take down holiday/seasonal decorations for months after the holiday has passed

Yoosung: -is actually really good at coming up with lyrics on the spot and rapping them to a beat -has a really tiny sneeze -has the prettiest eyes in the RFA -quit LOLOL for the most part, only plays it here and there when he has free time now -likes kpop, specifically 2ne1, and was disappointed when they were disbanded -he forgets that he’s not naturally blonde a lot -loves couple items and having matching clothes/items with his s/o. he really wants to do a whole matching coord one day -Took full responsibility for Rika after she was finally placed in a center to take care of her mental health, is really supportive and visits her whenever he can so she knows she’s not alone -somehow always manages to win at carnival games no matter how rigged they appear to be -Favorite superhero is Nightwing -wants to buy his s/o an engagement ring from Tiffany and Co. and is saving money for it -wanted to be a pilot as a child but gave up that dream when he was older because he was afraid of heights -has written a 42 chapter long fanfiction based on the world of LOLOL. His penname is not his real name, so no one knows he wrote it except for Seven, who never mentioned it out of kindness. The fanfic has over 2000 reviews and is known famously in the LOLOL fanbase for how well it was written -can’t handle the taste of coffee no matter how sweetened it is, it always still tastes bitter to him

Jaehee: -loves sushi -sometimes forgets that she doesn’t actually need glasses to see -the walls of her house are covered in post-it notes with reminders of stuff she needs to do, whether its for work or for personal -likes growing her hair out but it gets tangled really easily and has to be combed through at least once every day so she’s always cutting it a bit here and there -designed the uniform for her cafe herself -has low blood pressure -owns a lot of watches bc people constantly gift them to her -wears really low heel shoes bc she’s terrible at walking in them -Has a habit of sticking her pens behind her ear and then forgetting they’re there -doesn’t like pet names -Was never really good at art or very creative as a child and it effected her self-esteem -can’t draw anything more complicated than stick figures, but somehow is pretty good at latte art -the number one thing on her wish list is an ebook reader, and to have enough free time to read a book on it -played the flute well in high school but never really liked it -has seven alarms set up in her phone that go off everyday for different reasons -is the most fearless at catching bugs or spiders than anyone else in the RFA -doesn’t have a pet bc she’s afraid she wouldn’t have the time to care properly for it, but if she could have one she would like a snake, turtle or small reptile

#mystic messenger #707 #jumin han #zen #jihyun kim #jaehee kang #yoosung kim #personal

[sophygurl]

And now that I’ve written up the panels I attended*, I will attempt to write a little bit about the ones I was actually on. I’m not multi-taskented enough to take vigorous notes while actually panelling, but I’ll try and get some basics down at least. Please feel free to comment with additions and corrections!

(* - I did not write up the Leverage panel because 1) I was super exhausted, and 2) it was mostly a FEELS/SQUEE panel anyway, and 3) I figured (rightly) that it would be heavily live-tweeted anyway, so instead of my trusty notebook and pen, I brought my pillow and I got there early and took up two chairs - I apologize as I know it ended up being standing room only but I decided this was an access issue as if I could not put my feet up my gimpy ass was going to have to go back to bed - and I kinda hugged the wall while sobbing freely, cheering loudly, and generally having an exceptional time. Check the #LeverageFandom on twitter for actual accounts, including some of the show creators tweeting back at the fans awwwww)

Anyway, the first panel that I was on was Science Fiction on TV (#SFonTV) with moderator Carrie Pruett and fellow panelists Sigrid Ellis and Candra K. Gill. 

I was super excited to be on this panel because TV is my JAM and also all of those panelists are excellent people that I’ve had the privilege of panneling with in the past. 

It was primarily a squee panel and I recall raving about 12 Monkeys, Dark Matter, Lucifer, Orphan Black, Luke Cage, Colony, The Expanse, and Timeless among other shows.

Candra and I bonded over being some of the few who prefer Dark Matter over Killjoys (I like them both but DM is one of my absolute faves and I feel like KJ gets a ton more attention).

We discussed some SFF comedies such as The Good Place, The Last Man on Earth, Powerless, and my personal rec: People of Earth (seriously watch this show). 

We chatted about the proliferation of superhero shows (”when is Marvel going to get in the game?” LOL), and also time travel shows - some that succeeded and some that failed. 

OUaT was brought up and many of us agreed that it’s one of those shows we just can’t quit even though we want to. 

And then we did talk some about how much more representation we want out of our TV - specifically out of SFF TV because if they can have magic and super powers and time travel and futuristic sets and space travel - surely they could also have more people of color, more fat people, more disabled people, more queer people, more people of all shapes and sizes and colors. Why is this so hard!?

A few recs that others gave that I wrote down include: The Celluloid Closet documentary (that’s been rec’d to me before, I should really get on that), following Vincent D’Onofrio on twitter, and the show 3%. 

At the end, I did my usual “I love TV - come talk to me about it” spiel, and my MOM from the audience said some embarrassing thing about how I also write great reviews (I don’t even really DO that anymore mom!) so I waved my hand and said “that’s my mom everyone - don’t listen to her!” - and then gave her a big hug after because that’s just such a my-mom thing of her to do and it’s so adorable how she always wants to come to WisCon to “see me talk”. 

The next panel I was on was Where Do We Dystopia From Here? (#WhitherDystopia on the tweeters), which had a pretty good turn-out for a 10:30 pm panel. Our mod got sick so we had a sub-mod who had to kinda jump in to the subject matter last minute. I had some issues with my fellow panelist which isn’t worth getting into on a public post but otherwise I think the panel was good and the audience contributed a lot, which was cool, especially since we were across the hall from the Vid Party!

The hashtag for this one got some good rep, so check that out for a complete idea of how the panel went. I know I started off giving some history of the terms dystopia and utopia because I am a nerd who looks these things up ahead of time. 

I also brought up “whose dystopia? dystopia for who?” a lot as a theme because so many dystopias focus on specific privileged groups who are suddenly having to face conditions that actual real populations of people are already dealing with, which can be frustrating. Also a main theme of dystopias is that some small group of powerful people are in control and wielding that authority in horrific ways - so for that small group of people - it’s not a dystopia. Basically, I just really want to encourage people to be constantly asking themselves whose dystopia is this, for whom is this a dystopia - both in their fiction and in real life.

We talked some about the differences and similarities between post-apocalyptic and dystopian fiction. One thing I’d noted when looking at examples myself was that post-apoc. fiction tends to be in more rural settings with themes about survival, and dystopian fiction tends to be set in more urban settings with the main theme being resistance. Of course, the two can be put together - especially when a dystopia arises after some cataclysmic event. But another form of dystopia is the kind I related to the frog-in-the-pot analogy of it happening slowly and gradually around people so that before they realize they’re in a dystopia it’s already too late.

Themes of dystopian fiction we discussed included: those in power using propaganda to make citizens believe they’re in an utopia; that the totalitarian control of a dystopia can come from any direction - both socialist and capitalist dystopias, dystopias where religion is suppressed or used to oppress, governments taken over or corporations have or technological advances have, etc.; constant surveillance being either a reality or a belief held to keep people under control, dehumanization of the groups being controlled.

When defining dystopia, especially in relation to similar genres, I said it’s kind of like the old saying about porn in that “I know it when I see it.” There’s a specific feel to dystopias - they don’t always fit exactly, but we recognize these common themes and kind of settle in to it.

I talked some about real life examples including the often-used Nazi Germany one, but also stuff from our own history in the U.S. - slavery, conditions after Hurricane Katrina, and frankly what’s happening right now in Flint, MI with the water crisis. 

We talked about what is useful about dystopian fiction - how it reflects a society’s deepest fears and hopes for itself, can draw attention to current real issues, and can provide us with hope and even ideas as to how to resist dystopian aspects of our current situations - or where we see things going in the future.

As far as limitations and problems with the genre, I know I talked some about how most dystopian stories only focus on one or two issues and then take them to a sort of ridiculous extreme which can undermine the multiplicity of issues actually facing us and make us take them less seriously. Also, a common trope of YA dystopias specifically is that one special person who alone has the power to topple the powerful regime and how that trope can lessen the idea that we can all fight back and overcome these things. 

We talked some about the increase in sales of 1984 and BNW after Trump’s election and what that means. I specifically found it interesting that it was these classics written by white guys and not more recent dystopias that may be more applicable or female authors, authors of color, etc. 

I remember being asked about dystopias from more marginalized voices and wondering aloud about examples of poc authors writing dystopias - I could think of Octavia Butler’s Parable series and posited that N. K. Jemisin’s Broken Earth series might fit (got some questioning looks there so IDK if I sold that or not), and someone in the audience reminded me of Alaya Dawn Johnson’s The Summer Prince (which I need to read!), but I don’t think we came up with anything else. 

There was an audience comment about having trouble relating to urban dystopias where they just don’t have skills that could keep them alive because they feel like those would be fairly easy things to learn how to do. I talked about a common theme in dystopias being that either nature no longer exists because we’ve destroyed it or it’s being forbidden in some way - such as in The Hunger Games. 

Some of the sources I referenced included: Brave New World, Nineteen Eighty Four, Woman on the Edge of Time, The Handmaid’s Tale, Parable of the Sower, The Hunger Games series, 12 Monkeys, Mad Max, The Matrix, The Purge movies, Continuum, Colony.

Recs from others that I managed to jot down: Paolo Bacigalupi’s work, Lois Lowry’s The Giver, The Roar and The Whisper by Emma Clayton, Jennifer Government by Max Barry, the Silo series by Hugh Howey, Red Rising by Pierce Brown, The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu, Underground Airlines by Ben Winters, and the Snowpiercer movie.

(I was pleased after attending the other Dystopia panel the next day that we hadn’t had too much overlap. Ours was focused primarily on fiction with a little bit about real life where the other one focused more on real life stuff as it pertains to fiction.)

The third and final panel I was on was The Age of the Scifi Cop Show (#ScifiCops) with moderator Candra K. Gill and my fellow panelist Samuel Steinbrock-Pratt. 

This one’s got a lot in the hashtag too, so check it out! Candra and Samuel had a lot of cool stuff to say, as did our lively audience. Samuel especially had a great perspective because he’s a criminal defense attorney.

We discussed issues of surveillance and privacy as it relates both to tech-heavy sci-fi shows and more paranormal shows where, for instance, the zombie can eat a murder victim’s brain and gain their memories like in iZombie. 

We talked a lot about superhero/vigilante shows and how they represent who is and isn’t allowed to break the laws and why. Samuel had some strong feelings about Daredevil, especially, as a defense attorney who 1) only wants to represent the innocent and 2) goes out and breaks laws all the time himself. I added that Luke Cage did some interesting things in regards to intersections with vigilantism and law enforcement, as well as race, class, and gender. 

Person of Interest was another show we talked about a lot, both positive and negative. 

One topic was why there are so many scifi cop shows, and just cop shows anyway. Part of the reason is that it’s a nice formula for a show to follow in a serial format. Another is the ability for lots of excitement and drama involved. Also examined was the idea of who profits from having a common narrative where the cops are our protags?

We talked some about how these shows, in a genre that’s supposed to be about stretching the imagination, still don’t address so many systemtic issues in the police such as racism and abelism. Some shows actively reinforce these things by having us rooting for cops who are corrupt themselves, where other shows just gloss over these problems by having active surveillance and yet not dealing with things such as stop and frisk laws.

Samuel and Candra had some great things to say about cop shows set in the future and how they tend to criminalize the same things we do now, but that what we decide are crimes changes over time. For example - drug crimes are a thing that a futuristic cop/legal show could show having been abolished. Or what about a future where there are no cops? What about reparative justice?

An audience member asked about an epidemiological approach to crime. They used the example of lead poisoning leading to violence, which another audience member refuted, but the issue of taking an approach of what health issues might be causing crime remained of interest. The Reavers from Firefly were brought up.

I talked about a Canadian show called Cracked, starring David Sutcliffe, which is not a Sci-fi show, but does deal with cops gaining a greater understanding of how mental health issues intersect with crime - from either the perpetrator or victim side of things. The show paired cops with psychiatrists or psych nurses in a unit specially created to deal with crime relating to mental illness. 

We talked some about shows coming more from the outlaw angle such as Mr. Robot and Leverage.

Other shows I brought up included Stitchers, Limitless, Lucifer, Lost Girl, Minority Report, Continuum, and IDK a bunch more. 

Some stuff that got rec’d that I wrote down to check out included: Ultraviolet (the TV show not the movie), and the book A Door Into Ocean for it’s portrayal of banishment and reconciliatory justice. 

Phew! And so. Those were my panels. Or at least, what I can recall of them a good week later. 

I always appreciate getting feedback as a panelist - so feel free to chat with me, privately or publicly, about how you think the panel went if you were at any of these! 

#wiscon #wiscon 41 #sfontv #whitherdystopia #scificops #wiscon41 #wc41

[crowsent]

On Creativity

I’ve always liked writing. And since I’m working on bolstering my confidence, I’ll go ahead and say that I’m good at writing. I can use unique voices, switch perspectives, write decent fight scenes. By all means, I can write well.

But writing’s also a hobby. I don’t write because I have to. It ain’t an obligation. I’m allowed to enjoy what I do. I’m allowed to use words to escape this world and live in a different one, even for just a few precious moments. Forget Earth and forget me; I can be a Quirkless boy struggling with his identity, I can be a young woman struggling to master her Semblance, I can be a half-ghoul juggling my own concept of morality with a world that tells me that my existence is apprehensible.

I can be allowed to break away from the identity of LOSAS and be someone different.

Writing is fun for me. I enjoy it, I enjoy seeing ink on the page or words on the screen. I enjoy spinning out a thread and watching a tapestry come to life. And after years of doing it, that tapestry is pretty damn good. It’s got colours, clean lines, and a compelling vibrancy that makes others look.

But I’m not the only person who enjoys writing.

Someone might write and write and never be satisfied with what they create. John Doe can build a planet of ash and cinders and tear it all down because it’s grey and flat. Jane Doe can paint a human being and kill it in a single sentence because of a flaw that threw the whole story out of rationality.

Alex might spin a thread and create a tapestry of their own. But there is no life, no colour, and muddled stitches that obscure where the line ends and another begins.

And all these people should still be allowed to create.

Just because I’m good at writing doesn’t mean that I should be the only one allowed to write. It doesn’t mean that other good writers should only be the ones allowed to write.

We don’t have one giant inkwell and pen and pass it around like the olympic torch.

We SHOULDN’T have one giant inkwell and pen and pass it around like the olympic torch.

People should be encouraged to write. Everyone should write at LEAST one story just for kicks, shits, and giggles. Who cares if your story is about a majestic unicorn who discovered the meaning of friendship because of an overly persistent frog that sang off-key to them for three whole pages? Make your story about a soldier who had his entire family murdered and is out for revenge. Make it about your OTP making cookies at ass-o’clock in the morning.

WRITE.

For one, it encourages creativity and creativity, I think, is one of the most beautiful things about human beings. Sure, as a species we collectively fucked over the Earth, drove some species of animals and plants into extinction, and created a system that fucked up the economy and squandered the morality and softness of our people.

But we also created organizations to try and rectify these problems we created: wildlife preservation efforts, shelters, food drives. We break and we make our mistakes (HA) but we also try so so very hard to fix them and learn, and move forward.

Creativity, I think, is more than just building a planet of ash and cinders or creating your own human conjured from the depths of your mind. It’s self-expression, an outlet for you to express feelings that you normally wouldn’t be able to put into words.

For me, words are how I express my feelings. If I tried talking to an actual human being face to face, I’d accidentally bite my tongue and die over the pronunciation of the word “pronunciation”. But when I write, it’s easier. When I write, I can look at everything that’s wrong with our planet from an objective standpoint and simultaneously remind myself that it’s not the end.

I am much better with written words because it gives me time to think and revise. I can’t do that in real life. I can’t pause a conversation and proofread the absolute bullshit I am about to spew from my mouth.

But some people are much more comfortable with speaking. Where I express myself with flowery words and purple prose dense and loquacious to the point of idiocy, some people like to use their words, hear themselves speak to others and see the faces of everyone who listens to them.

There was a man I knew who we shall call ‘Vaughn’. Now, Vaughn wrote, not as much, not as confidently, but he wrote. He was always hesitant when sharing his writing. So was I, but that was a product of my social anxiety and not my lack of confidence in my work.

Vaughn did not have this social anxiety. He saw his work, his prose, and genuinely believed that it did not compare to others. Never said it aloud, but when he read prose, his feet fidgeted, he held the paper (or computer) in front of him to hide his face, and he spoke faster and faster, as if trying to get the words out so he wouldn’t have to speak. And when he finished, he’d sigh, nod and smile at the reception, and hurriedly urge all of us to go next.

That’s only for prose though.

Near the end of the year, he gave us all this big performance; slam poetry.

And let me tell you, I was fucking enthralled.

If I heard his poems on a street, his delivery, the way his voice shifted with every word and how he moved almost like I dance, I would fucking listen to every word. Even if I was late to work, or even if my arms were laden with groceries, I would fucking stand on that street and listen with my jaw on the floor.

Pretty sure I didn’t breathe during his performance. It was amazing. And he had a lot of fun. His leg wasn’t fidgeting, he didn’t cover his face. He owned it.

It’s obvious he has a passion for writing and performing, and speaking until his voice was hoarse.

And he was a damn creative man.

A creative man who, for some reason, felt like his prose wasn’t as good as his slam poetry. Which, okay, I’ll admit, I enjoyed the poetry better, but it didn’t mean that his prose was bad. It was just rough around the edges, like mine, like everyone in that class.

So I thought, why the fuck would a man this dedicated to his craft, this passionate about reciting a poem that grabbed my fucking soul and booked it, this excited to share with us his creation, feel as though his prose wasn’t good enough.

With his poem, he was very open to criticisms and praise alike. But with his prose, he seemed resigned and withdrawn, like criticism was the only option. Of course, I was curious and my social anxiety got strangled by my curiosity and it was silenced with a garotte because I just HAD TO KNOW.

When I asked if he would be doing anymore writing after that year, without that specific class pushing us to write everyday, he said, with the certainty and confidence of a man who had a noose around his neck: “Yeah, but I probably won’t write prose anymore.”

And his reasoning. The reasoning. “I’m not good at it.”

Okay. Fair enough. Some people don’t enjoy writing prose and prefer other forms of creative self-expression. Maybe he just prefers slam. Maybe he wasn’t that into prose.

But I heard this man, this beautiful, brilliant, creative man, go into a spiel about his work. How he planned to write it, the dark twists he’ll take. His one goal in prose was to make his writing creepy and edgy. And he was so fucking excited about it. Big smile, bright eyes, the excited hand movements that almost took out my glasses in a one hit knockout.

I refuse to believe that a man this excited to talk about his work wasn’t interested in writing.

That got me thinking: why in the fuck would he stop doing something he clearly enjoyed doing?

The question eventually shifted to this.

Why do people stop creative pursuits?

Why do people stop writing angsty poems and edgy creepypastas?

Why do people stop making up silly songs in the shower?

Why do people stop painting their rainbow sparkly OCs?

Why do people stop OC/Canon shipping?

Why do people stop cosplay?

Why do people stifle their creativity?

This of course, ties back to the first paragraph I’ve written. I enjoy writing. I’m good at writing.

John and Jane and Alex enjoy writing. They don’t live up to the standard others have for “good” writing.

I am encouraged to keep updating that fanfic I have.

They are encouraged to stop. Find something they can do better. Move on.

Why does my writing, considered good by other people, give me a pass to keep writing while others who don’t meet that standard are encouraged to stop?

It makes absolutely no sense. A crab doing the macarena makes more sense than that. A cheetah that’s slower than a snail crawling through molasses makes more sense than that.

Why should we stop people from creating? From exploring their minds and expanding on their interests?

Why is it, that when it comes to writing, or drawing, or sewing, or literally any creative pursuit, we only endorse it when the person is “good?”

If creativity is about self-expression, then the quality shouldn’t matter. I should be allowed to write even if the first word I ever put to page is “Y’all’d’ve.” If I want to make my fanfic about my OC being swept off her feet by a hunky, glittery vampire, then by all fucking means, I should be allowed to write.

No one should be telling me to stop writing.

Creativity is a part of us, something intrinsic and unique and just as integral to our development as a person. It doesn’t have to be writing either.

Someone singing terribly off-key to their favourite song at a karaoke bar should be allowed to sing off-key to their favourite song.

Someone who makes cat-shaped cookies and had the batch come out like a monstrosity from hell should still make cat-shaped cookies if they want to.

Someone who writes with shifting tenses, has no concept of verb choice, and utterly butchers canonical characterizations should still be allowed to write.

As someone who does write fanfiction (plus other things) and publish them, feedback is important to me. Without it, I can’t grow as a writer, and I enjoy talking to all the people who take the time to comment on my latest work.

But I am not obligated to keep up the quality or coherency or consistency of my fics.

If, at some point, I decided to take the plot in a direction way the fuck out of left field, I can do that. I owe no one an apology. I wrote the fanfic, I choose to do what I want with it.

It’s terribly unfair for people to commandeer what I can and can’t do with my writing just as it’s unfair for people to commandeer what people can and can’t do with their creativity.

Let’s take singing.

I enjoy singing. I like to sing. I enjoy taking popular songs and butchering it to hell and back.

I am not a good singer.

I can’t hit high notes.

I can’t hold notes.

I have next to no control over my voice.

But I love to sing. And I should be allowed to sing. Just like how John and Jane and Alex should be allowed to write.

We look at Creativity not as something to do for fun, but as something to do for productivity. Why bother creating your own alien planet if it’s full of inconsistencies? Fuck all your feelings and the happy endorphins releasing in your head, this planet’s not good enough.

Fuck that OC you just wrote out the whole backstory for, it’s too damn edgy and not written with enough nuance.

Yeah fuck you.

At no point in time should you ever attempt to police a person’s creativity. It’s something that’s for THEM to explore. To discover. To enjoy.

Think of all your favourite shows, your favourite music, your favourite plays. All of that happened because of creativity and hard work. You see critically acclaimed novels with the accolades and praises. You don’t see the first draft with the dozens of lines rewritten in red ink. You don’t see the first drafts with entire pages crossed out.

People don’t churn out masterpieces in a day.

And even if they did, that should not be the standard. There shouldn’t be any standard to creativity.

If you want to try out knitting for the first time and end up with a mess, then congratulations! you tried out knitting for the first time. If you enjoyed it, then go make yourself another knitted item. Clothing. I don’t knit so I wouldn’t know.

People should stop assigning value to their creative pursuits. Sure, it’s fun when people give your compliments, but it’s also fun to let loose and just enjoy yourself.

I just talk about writing a lot, because it’s what I’ve done for years and something I can do confidently. I’m not perfect, there’s still some bumps, but if you ask me if I can write better than I can draw, I will nod my head so damn fast it’s going to roll of my shoulders.

That said, I should still be absolutely allowed to draw even though it’s been 84 YEARS AND I STILL DON’T KNOW HOW TO DRAW A HAND

Creativity is something that we should embrace. Even if what we create doesn’t turn out ‘good’ or if we’re not happy with it, we should still create and create and create.

It’s a good stress relief. It opens up our minds to new worlds, new possibilities, new passions, new hobbies. It can be used to talk to people. It can be used to improve yourself as a person. It can be fucking used for unorthodox solutions to some of your problems. Thinking outside the box.

And even though I can not, for the life of me, hit a single god damn note in Hamilton’s ‘Satisfied’, I will still sing the fuck out of it when it comes on in my playlists.

And even though Vaughn’s prose didn’t flow as well as his slam poetry, he should still continue to write if he enjoyed it.

It’s not about being good at it. It’s about having fun while you do it.

TL;DR: Let people be creative

#text #losas talks #creativity #on subject