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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for making a YouTuber feel uncomfortable?

Here me out please, before you all make assumptions.

A couple months ago, I(19F) began following a YouTuber that I quickly began to love. I won’t be saying the YouTuber’s name for the sake of protecting their privacy, obviously. I started to watch their videos(which were mainly about a story that she came up with, featuring her ocs) and enjoyed them all, enjoyed the ocs, too. This YouTuber is a relatively unpopular one, but not so unpopular that they’re obscure or completely unheard of, they’re just not one of the big names in the YouTuber community. I made a few amazing friends due to us being in the same fandom and both enjoying this YouTuber’s content. One day, I decided to write a fanfic for this person’s story featuring her ocs. I uploaded the fic to AO3 and made sure to credit the YouTuber with creating these amazing ocs. I then showed it to my few friends, who all loved the fanfic. However, one day I made the mistake of showing the fic to a mutual friend(now an ex-friend but that’s a topic for another discussion) that me and the YT both share, and she sent the fanfic to the YT without my permission. Now before y’all get up in arms, I didn’t mind at all that she had sent it to the YT, in fact, I actually wanted the YT to see. However I really wish that she had asked me first, because I would have been more than happy to show it to them! Unfortunately, a few days after I sent it to her, my other friend(let’s call her M) showed me an announcement the YT made on her Discord, in which she complained about people writing fanfictions of her ocs and “using” them in her stories without her permission. She also stated that she felt like she was losing control of her story when other people wrote fanfics of it, and that whoever wrote the fanfiction “didn’t understand boundaries”(even though she didn’t have this boundary before and also wrote in the announcement that she used to be okay with fanfics of her work, but now no longer is). I deleted the fanfic the moment I saw the post from my friend, but I was a bit disappointed since I never meant to make her feel uncomfortable and only wanted to show my love and appreciation for her story, and possibly get more people to check out her story as well. Still, I deleted the fanfic from AO3.

Now, here’s where things get interesting. A while later, I joined the YouTuber’s Discord server, where I met many people that I got along quite well with and quickly befriended. I often engaged in conversations with them about the story, and often drew fanart of my favorite character and posted it to the art channel in the server(she’s okay with fanart of her ocs, just not fanfics). Now is probably a good time to mention that while I was in the Discord server(and even before that) I often talked about the story with my friend on Tumblr(not M, these are two separate friends) who did not have Discord but loved the story just as much as I did. We often talked about the story and how much we enjoyed it, and often came up with jokes and headcanons, basic stuff like that, that any fan would do. Anyway, back to the Discord, one of the rules of the server was not to be disrespectful or rude or malicious towards other people, and another was that if you received two warnings about your behavior in the server then you would be quickly banned from the server and no longer allowed to come back. I understood this and tried to conduct myself to the best of my ability. However, one day, I found myself mysteriously unable to access the server, and when I tried to rejoin, I was again unable to. I found out that the reason I couldn’t access the server was because I had been banned due to “disrespectful behavior”, “engaging in arguments”, and making the YouTuber(who ran the server) uncomfortable. I was confused, because I genuinely don’t remember ever engaging in rude behavior with anyone. The few instances(according to them) in which I had been allegedly rude or disrespectful to people were both genuine misunderstandings, and both times I had apologized for them and did not repeat the behavior. I also did not receive any form of warning before being banned, despite one of the rules being that you will receive two warnings before being banned from the server. Still, I apologized for my alleged hostility and asked if I could come back, however the YouTuber said no, and went on to add that not only was I rude to people in the server(which, again, were both genuine misunderstandings), but that she had seen my Tumblr conversations with my friends in which I talked about her story, and said that she was “wildly uncomfortable” with how “obsessive” I was with it as well as my favorite character in the story. This bewildered me to no end because the YouTuber did not have Tumblr and had never once ever mentioned being on or having access to Tumblr, so I did not expect her to see my posts(and even if she did, I did not expect to get banned for them as they do not violate the rules of the server). It made me wonder why she didn’t just talk to me and explain to me that she was uncomfortable with me posting about her work instead of just banning me altogether and not giving me a chance to defend myself. I ended up sadly and reluctantly deleting all of my posts relating to her story, and requesting my friend to do the same. I told M about this scenario, and she was enraged on my behalf, saying that the YouTuber probably was actually upset about my having written a fanfic for her ocs, and said that she didn’t understand me being called obsessive because I acted like a normal fan would(which I agree with). Some of my other friends have sided with me as well and told me that the YouTuber was acting petty, however some of my friends have taken a middle ground. None of them entirely condemned me, but that may just be because they are biased and don’t want to hurt my feelings. The mutual friend/now ex-friend(of course) merely told me to “self-reflect” and move on from the story. Regardless, the YouTuber now has me blocked, not just on Discord, but on Instagram as well, where I also reside.

Reasons why I think I might be the asshole: I will admit that I have a tendency to really hyperfixate on things and get especially attached to fictional characters that I adore and resonate with, so I can see why that would make them uncomfortable. That being said…

Reasons why I think I might not be the asshole: I genuinely wasn’t trying to make this wonderful YouTuber feel uncomfortable or be “obsessive” with the story. I merely wanted to show my appreciation for it in a way that I thought was normal for online fans, which included writing a fanfic, drawing fanart, and geeking out about the story with my friends(admittedly publicly). I had no idea that these actions would turn the YouTuber off, and merely wanted to show how much I enjoyed the story. I also was never rude to anyone in the server and apologized whenever a misunderstanding rose up. I never tried to be aggressive with anyone or cursed anybody out or tried to have arguments with people, so I have no idea where that came from.

So, what say ye, oh wise people of Tumblr? Am I the asshole or not?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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loveceit · 4 years

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Ooh ooh the final one, needing a date to an event, but the character asks two or even three crushes/squishes because they think no one will say yes but they all turn up and shenanigans and confessions!!!

Virgil loves his parents, he really do, but he could do without their monthly game nights. Especially as the next one has crept closer and closer, they've not very subtly inquired if he has any "special someone" to invite.

The game nights are like. A whole thing. His parents invite their group of friends, which is like... 85% couples. There's food and wine and music the adults listened to when they were his age. Virgil has always been allowed to join in, and once he entered high school he started inviting his then best friend to join.

Of course, his parents banned Logan from game night after The Incident. The aftermath of that night got Virgil to try his chances with getting a bigger social circle, which somehow led to his current dilemma.

It's not that Virgil doesn't wish he had a "special someone". It's that he's head over heels for two of his friends; Janus and Remy. The two are basically the nonbinary royalty of the school, and Virgil has no idea if either of them would want to come to something as "lame" as a game night hosted by his parents.

On the other hand, the game night would be much more tolerable if he had one of them there. Especially since if he doesn't invite anyone, his parents won't be the only ones asking about any significant other/s. Virgil has known most of his parents' friend group since he was in diapers; they're really more like a bunch of aunts and uncles and entles.

Virgil end up texting Janus and Remy at 1am the day before - well, technically the day of - the game night. Asking if they wanna come and maybe pretend to be his datemate if anyone asks.

He then promptly throws his phone away from him and watch youtube videos until he falls asleep. Which means that when Virgil wakes up at noon, his phone is lost in his bed and forgotten as he has to eat, shower, all that.

The doorbell rings a quarter to 3. Virgil gets sent to open the door as his parents are working on setting everything up in the kitchen and living room.

He seriously consider closing the door again as he open it to reveal both Janus and Remy. Janus is wearing a yellow summer dress with a brown bee-themed leather jacket, and Remy is wearing a sheer white shirt over a cute bralette, and a high-waisted maxi skirt with slits along the sides. Virgil has seen them in similar outfits before, but the circumstance makes it completely different.

Somehow, Virgil manages to greet them and invite them inside. His parents peek out from the living room to see who the first arrivals are.

"Oh!" his mother says, quickly doing some mental math as she connects the dots of asking Virgil about a special someone, the two teenagers, and her son's red cheeks.

Virgil can really only look on as Janus immediately charms his parents, while Remy smiles and nods in all the right places. It's gonna be a long day.

But there's still about 10 minutes before anyone else is expected to come, and Virgil's parents have a few things more to do so the three of them end up retreating to the backyard.

...specifically the tree house that Virgil helped his parents build back when he was 8. It's not really meant for three high schoolers, but it's roomy enough that they can still stretch out to some degree.

Virgil sits by the opening so that his parents will be able to see where they are. Janus and Remy have both opted to sit against the opposite wall, likely in an attempt to not crowd him.

"So..." Remy drawls, a smile on their lips. If they had Starbucks, this would be when they took a sip. Janus rolls their eyes fondly, a small smile on their lips.

Virgil almost gets distracted wondering if Janus is wearing strawberry chapstick. Or lip gloss. He's not sure if lip gloss can be flavoured, though he knows chapstick can be tinted.

"Did you look at your phone after you texted us?" Janus asks, being the only one of them to always have a functioning braincell.

"No," Virgil admits, and automatically check his jeans for his phone. Of course, the only thing in his pockets is a hair tie.

Remy pouts at the admission, but it's so quick that Virgil almost thinks he imagined it. He's definitely missing something, and his phone holds the answers. Would it be ridiculous if he ran in to get it?

...yes, it would. Especially as he has Janus and Remy in front of him.

"Do you know about polyamory, Virgil?" Janus asks.

"It's 2020," Virgil deadpans, because it's kind of hard to not know about polyamory when you have a tumblr and AO3 account. It's the best solution to all those stupid love triangles in media.

Actually, he's pretty sure he has rambled about Bella/Jacob/Edward to both Janus and Remy after the twilight renaissance started.

"Yeah, fair." Janus answers with a beautiful little laugh.

"What Jan is trying to ask is if you're polyam, babes." Remy chimes in. They call everyone babes, but it has never stopped Virgil from getting flustered.

"Uh, I think so."

"Us too!" Remy claps their hands together and their smile widen.

"I thought we agreed to not rush," Janus jokingly scolds. Virgil feels the confusion settle in. Was this taking the direction he thought it was taking?

"Yeah but what if we get interrupted?" Remy counters. It's a fair concern, as Virgil can see that people has started to arrive if he angles his head to look through the living room windows.

"As I was saying," Janus continues, as if the conversation hadn't derailed at all. "Remy and I talked after we realised that you texted both of us, and we came to a very interesting conclusion."

Virgil can't help but wonder if Janus is torturing him on purpose.

"Yeah?"

"See, we thought if you're open to both of us pretending to be your-"

"Ugh, you're taking forever!" Remy interrupts. "Virge, babes. I'm gay, Jan is gay, do you want to be gay together with us?"

"Remy, that's not clear at all!" Janus complains. "Virgil, we're wondering if you want to be in a real polyamorous relationship with us."

Virgil.exe has stopped working.

Okay, not really, but almost. For a full minute, all he manages to do is stare at them. If he trusted them less - or were more paranoid - he would be looking around for a hidden camera.

"Like... for real for real?" he asks, eyes wide.

"Only if you want to," Remy reassures. "I'll def fight Jan for you if you don't want to immediately jump into dating two people."

Virgil is pretty sure that he hears Janus say "as if I'd let you win" under their breath.

"Yes!" Virgil exclaims. "I mean, yes, I want to date both of you."

"Cool beans." Remy answers. Virgil and Janus stare at them.

"I'm breaking up with you." Janus deadpans and Remy dramatically clasp their chest at the act of betrayal.

Only seconds later, the three of them are a giggling mess.

"I can't believe-" Virgil gets out in between giggles. "-that you said 'cool beans'!"

They're still giggling when someone comes to get them.

#anxsleepceit #my writing #magpiemorality

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niuniente · 4 years

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Can I as a 15 year old say that we dont find the general 30 something fandom goers problems and we definitely dont go around calling everyone a pedo. When it becomes an issue is when adults go into fandoms of media like say bnha where the main characters are 16 and create porn of those minors especially sense the fandom space is filled with kids that same age. Spop is perfectly fine to do what ever you want sense the youngest character(well that is skippable) by the end of the series is 20.

Hmmm I have sort of a double edged sword in my hand regarding what you say.

First, what are the fandom places for minors where adults shouldn’t exist? Tumblr? Twitter? AO3? Pillowforth? Intagram? Are adult banned from certain fandoms that have lots of minors there? This goes again to the old struggle whether adults should think about minors or whether minors should control their own fandom experiences. I think it’s both; adults tagging their stuff properly and marking their spaces as adult spaces, and minors making sure that they don’t venture out there where the markings exist, and also knowing that you CAN see things you don’t want to. You absolutely can. So blacklist words, block people, read warnings, do what you can to avoid seeing things you don’t want to. I have a separate nsfw accounts with warnings simply because I know I have minors following me so it’s the best that way.

Now, what it comes to adults making sexual art and fics of teenagers, I think there are two things. First, adults were teenagers do. We have lived through those years, struggles, worries, sexuality etc. you are going through. We KNOW teenagers have sex and are sexual beings in general. I’m worried if someone is picturing like 12-13yo and younger in fanart/fanfics being sexually active. That’s not OK in my books. But 15-17yo? That’s fine. Teenagers do have sex. That’s the second thing. I don’t think that adults are lusting after teenagers (though it’s OK to be careful with fandom people, not everyone is nice). I mean, at least when I do some erotic art or fics, I’m not like “OOOO SO HORNY I WANT TO DO THIS CHARACTER AAAAHH OOOH” but it’s more like “This character is a combination of many things and my view of their sexuality is one, and I want to explore the character and their behavior through that theme now”.

IRL pedophilia and child trafficking are absolutely horrendous things (I support groups rehabilitating victims of child prostitution irl), so please, I ask young ones not to throw around a word like pedophilia so easily in fandom places. I’m not saying that YOU ANON are doing this. This is a wish for everyone out there.

I have heard that there are some adult in Twitter which lure minors into seeing pedophilia content. Like they scream that there’s that happening here by this and that person, horrible, dm me if you want to see it! And then the minors dm them and get pedophilia posts in return and the minors are shocked because they didn’t expect to see anything like that. Absolutely vile shit! You just don’t do that! If you encounter this, immediately report to Twitter about it and block the person.

There are many reasons for drawing and writing sexual stuff. Perhaps adults weren’t allowed to express their sexuality when they were teenagers. Perhaps they did and they had bad experiences and they want to go through those things now for their own well-being. Perhaps they’re into darker themes. Perhaps they never fitted in the sexual norm and have come into terms just now with it. Of course, this said, rotten bastards do exist. If you get bad vibes from someone, avoid them. But know that what they produce as artists or authors don’t tell much about the person. I think the Western fandom is putting too much emphasis on “what you draw/write and ship, it tells all about you!!” where the Eastern fandom is just “You ship this? You draw/write this? OK. It doesn’t tell anything about you as a person except that you are a fan of this ship”. That’s my view, too. Always has been. I think it’s partly because I consume absolutely horrible stuff at the best but in real life, I’m the mellow introvert pacifist who just wants everyone to be happy as they are.

I’m personally very laid back and I was like this when I was a teenager what it comes to sexual themes in art drawn and written by adults. As long as it’s not pure pedophilia with literal children, I’ve always been OK with it. But you don’t have to be! Absolutely not! You just have to remember that you can curate only your own fandom experiences and make sure, as well as you can, that the things which upset you are and stay hidden by following proper tagging, guides and warnings, and also blocking and hiding things you don’t want to see. If someone isn’t tagging their work properly and setting warnings right, they’re an idiot.

All the teenagers out there: if you encounter something unpleasant which is clearly violating the TOS of the site, let the people running the platform know! It’s much better than campaigns against real people out there.

EDIT: I FORGOT! Please if you are minor and you see fanart or fics of characters of your age having sex, it doesn’t mean that YOU should be having sex, too! No, absolutely not! Don’t take any pressure over sex or sexuality. You are allowed to be who you are, from sex repulsed to sex positive, in any sexual orientation. There’s no hurry to start your sex life.

#really long post aaa #anon you keep making sure that you are OK and keep yourself save #not all adults are nice #neither they are evil either #fandom #Anonymous

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comic-brew · 4 years

Text

Pieces

@whumptober2020 days n.4 Running out of time: Buried Alive and n.5 Falling (alt prompt)

Summary: The wet soil doesn’t end, it engulfs him in its cold embrace and doesn’t let him go, no matter how wildly he struggles against the earthly tendrils wrapped securely around his limbs and torso.

Notes: shitty au where basically TV Titans Jason has flashbacks of his comic-life, even though he technically haven’t lived any of them yet. How much this story progresses depends on if I’ll write a second ch. Beware of 2 different writing styles cause I started this way too long ago.

Reading time: 35 mins (4.4k)

Warnings: whump, panic attacks, being buried alive, self deprecating thoughts, angst, oxygen deprivation, PTSD (?), vertigo, falling, perhaps sth else I missed??

or read here on ao3!

ps. reblogs and feedback bring the author great joy uwu

***

“Hey, Jason” Gar greets after knocking and opening the door to Jason’s room just enough to peer his head through.

“How’re you doing?”

The boy waits but Jason doesn’t reply. He’s simply staring out his window, arms falling limply at his side, barely even registering the new presence in the room. Garfield bites his lip and invites himself inside and by Jason’s side. He glances at the boy’s rapidly moving, but hollow eyes, then at the view of the sky they’re aiming at.

“Are you still with us, buddy?” he asks.

He hesitantly runs a hand up and down in front of Jason’s distant gaze and that seems to do the trick.

Jason blinks, then shakes his head to rid himself of whatever thought he was so unnervingly engrosed into. Turning to face the green haired boy, he assumes the most carefree expression he can muster, forcing a halflit smile in a futile attempt to compose himself.

“Yeah, was just.. thinking” he assures, his eyes holding no emotion.

“ ‘Course… You sure you’re okay?” Gar presses, making little effort to conceal the incredulous frown his eyebrows are drawn into.

Jason shifts in his place while his hands clench and unclench, in an attempt to calm his discomfort and aggravation at Gar’s question, because he knows his teammate’s just asking out of honest concern. It’s not his fault Jason hasn’t slept in days and isn’t used to people checking up on him.

“I’m fine, dude, seriously.” Jason insists and Garfield knows better than to further inquire him “Now, did you want something?”

Fuck. Jason almost winces at how aggressive his words have come out. Gar blinks, opening his mouth to say something. Before his thoughts can materialize on the tip on his tongue, he seems to rethink what he wanted to say. That delay of course doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason.

God..Why does he always mess everything up?

As Gar’s about to speak again, the new Robin raises a hand to the green haired boy’s chest, stopping any word before it can reach his ears. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and I’m taking it out on you.” he huffs a bitter laugh “You don’t deserve me being an ass to you too.”

The boy’s brown eyes light up with understanding and relief and his tense shoulders physically relax at the confession. “Hey, it’s cool man. I get it.” he acknowledges, smiling politely and squeezing Jason’s shoulder.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t recoil from the touch, instead reciprocating Gar’s reassuring smile with an exhausted, but genuine and lighthearted smirk.

They both remain in that position for several split seconds, until Garfield finally retracts his hand to clasp his palms together as it dawns on him that he still hasn’t told his teammate the news he came to deliver.

“Actually I did come to tell you something” he announces, grinning widely and slightly fidgeting with his fingers “Rachel and I were thinking of watching a movie, you’re welcome to join us. You know, if you feel up to it.”

Jason takes a spare second to ponder and process Gar’s proposition. He steals a glance at the translucent glass of the window, separating his world from the towering skyscrapers and showering his neatly made bed in the soft gleam of the afternoon.

It would surely be better than staying there alone, falling into the inky depths of his eternal abyss.

Turning to face the boy whose eyes scour him expectantly for any indication of his intentions, he relents with a rather forced shrug.

“Uh, sure, I guess.” Jason says.

Gar’s face lights up and pulls into a joyous grin. “Cool… cool.”

He awkwardly shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants and starts heading towards the door, stopping midway to listen to Jason calling out after him.

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

The green haired boy simply nods and subtly waves his hand goodbye, before he disappears into the hallway.

***

When Jason steps foot into one of the spacious living areas Titans Tower houses, there are three heads turning at the soft sound of his approaching footsteps where he expected to be greeted by two. The platinum curls flowing gracefully with the motion can only belong to one person. Well, at least one person they know.

“Rose” he sighs. “Didn’t expect you to come”

“Didn’t expect to come either” she counters, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in amusement, “But I guess this could be fun after all”

She is comfortably perched on a lovely armchair covered by smooth, pearl fabric, facing the flank of a matching couch. One knee bent and placed securely under her body, the side of her head is doused in the last dull afternoon light seeping into the room through the daffodil curtains keeping the golden sunset rays at bay. Rachel is regarding Jason with a mellow smile, sitting cross legged on the far end of the couch neighbouring Rose’s armchair and Garfield has already started fumbling with a rather ancient DVD player.

It’s a wonder how this thing still exists in a building where interactive holograms are a norm. But then again it wouldn’t be the oddest thing about this place.

“Well,” Gar begins, slightly groaning when the DVD port spitefully refuses to close, “We’re both glad you did join us. Now, take a seat ladies and gentlemen!” he announces with fervor when he finally manages to slam the port close, and gestures towards the unoccupied cushions next to the purple haired girl.

Jason takes the invitation gladly and flops down on the other end of the couch, closer to the hall he was in just a few seconds ago.

“What are we watching?” Jason asks.

Rachel turns her focus to him then, leaning her back on the couch and clutching a decorative pillow to her abdomen. “Gar found this, and I quote, 'apocalyptic masterpiece of censorship’ and insisted we had to watch it.” she grins, rolling her eyes at reciting her friend’s words.

Jason and Rose both snort at that as Garfield reaches the couch in a few quick strides. “Seriously guys, I have only ever heard about this movie from some pretty questionable sources.” he says giddily before sobering up again, clearly fussing over his discovery.

“We’re literally staring an urban legend in the face, guys!”

“Yeah, not like you hang out with the Titans or whatever” Jason quips. Seriously, how can a movie be more exciting than fighting crime alongside heroes? Than being a hero?

“Good point, bro. Good point”

Jason shoulders stiffen at the nickname, but only for a briefly awkward moment which Gar is more than eager to fill with more (unnecessary) information.

“Well, according to those guys the movie was banned shortly after its release and all copies were revoked and ultimately destroyed.”

“Clearly not all copies” Rachel muses before asking why the movie was banned in the first place. Gar mumbles something about it addressing some extremely controversial topics and offending some powerful douchbag before making his way to the middle cushion.

Rachel scoots over without even untangling her legs to make more room for him to sit.

Rose simply raises an eyebrow.

“Where the hell did you even hear about this stuff in the first place?”

Gar suddenly goes stills in his place on the couch. He runs a hand through his messy strands of hair before reluctantly providing an answer. “Uh… Tumblr?” he says while grinning awkwardly.

Rachel nods her head back slack-jawed, brows shooting up in a terrible attempt at showing understanding. Gar frowns as he then glances at Jason who’s staring at him with wide disbelieving eyes, the sound of Rose dramatically smacking her own face enhancing the atmosphere.

“It’s not that surprising guys, come on!” Gar protests, an exasperated sigh emanating from his lips.

At that, the three of them exchange deadpan looks before bursting out laughing. The laughter soon subsides into small giggles and high pitched breaths as the green haired boy smiles with content and leans above the mahogany coffee table to grab the tv remote.

“Well, friends, brace yourselves, for the most epic zombie movie to barely exist” he says, smirking as he plops back down on the leathern cushions.

On the screen, their reflections have given their place to the lean figure of a boy of asian descent in his 16s walking alongside a girl with dark complexion and luscious, auburn hair. A gentle, velvety voice surrounds them from the speakers and integrates them in the world the film is set in.

Time flows pleasantly as the story progresses with no interruption aside from a few enthusiastic inputs from a beaming Garfield.

The rest of the Titans are all gathered together in some other part of the Tower, once again excluding them from whatever plans they might be conjuring.

Because that went so well last time, Jason unwittingly ponders, quick to dismiss the thoughts lest those dreadfully fresh memories resurface.

But perhaps it’s already too late to whisk them away.

Jason gets up out of the blue, eliciting an inquisitive glare from the rest of the kids.

“I’ll just.. go grab some popcorn” he states vacantly, pointing at the hallway with his thumb without breaking eye contact. Truth is he needs a minute to recover from the intrusion of sensations he’d rather forget.

Plus, popcorn sounds nice.

“We can pause the film if you want” Rachel’s soft voice prompts, wording what has likely been dancing around the others’ minds as well.

“Nah, it’s cool. It won’t take long. I’m not going all the way to the Antarctica and back or whatever” he replies, fighting the nagging urge to roll his eyes and let the poison drip onto his voice. The kids nod and in a moment’s notice he’s gone.

Right foot.

Left foot.

Right foot.

Keeping up his pace feels abysmally hard. His head is reeling and his senses are swimming all around the place, reality feels like a fuzzy blanket draped over a newborn’s skin. Jason takes a few more carefully calculated steps before he stumbles on thin air. Careening into the wall he leans against the slick concrete on his flank until the world stops shifting enough for him to continue.

Somehow Jason makes it to the kitchen. He fumbles with the drawers, opening and closing them jerkily.

In just a few seconds the falling has progressed to the point where he can barely stand. He doesn’t think it’s ever been this bad the previous times.

Everything is spinning around. And when it all shifts upside down he’s falling from the marble to the ceiling, and when his skin and the asbestos are inches from colliding, the world tilts again like an hourglass that’s ran out of sand.

Just like that his descend is reset. Over and over.

He finds the popcorn bag in the last one and grabs it hastily. Only after the third attempt, the previous two ending shamefully with his clasp clutching piteously at empty air.

Dropping it of on the countertop it’s more muscle memory than will that redirects him to the sink. His fingers grip the knob, turning the water lukewarm, but as he lets it puddle on his palms he can’t feel it any clearer than a breath of a ghost on the back of his neck.

Jason splashes the water on his face but it ends up mostly on his clothes and on the ground. Gravity works funny when you have no sense of it.

His hands latch onto the edge of the sink and cling for dear life. The ledge, hold on to the ledge. His eyes open wide, they soak up the terror of the height. The terror of death.

The eerie reassurance of death.

The smog dissipates faster this time. But with it the distressing thought that it’s getting worse, that he’s getting worse, finds the chance settle in his gut.

Jason can’t do this anymore.

But he’s already been gone for a conspicuously large amount of time, and the thought of having to explain his reoccurring day-mares can’t even be entertained by his mind. So that makes a problem for another day.

The popcorn is ready in only a few minutes. Jason holds on to the sink for a couple more moments, taking deep breaths in and out, until his heart has stopped beating frenzied.

If they ask, he can always say he had trouble with the 'corn.

He can always say.

“Okay” he breathes out, closing his eyes as he informs nobody in particular.

“Okay I’m ready”

With that Jason grabs the bowl filled to the brim with the snack and disappears out the door. The journey from the kitchen to the smaller living area is nothing compared to the odyssey he went through following his departure from the lounge.

Once he sets foot back inside all heads turn towards him.

“What did I miss?” he asks, ever so cheerfully as he strides closer to the small den of couches.

One of them starts speaking, no doubt filling him in on the events that happened while he wasn’t watching. Whoever it is, Jason can’t concentrate on their voice enough to tell it apart.

On the screen, the boy is desperately gasping for air as he’s emerging from a moonlit grave.

The world spins out of focus, and before any of them know it the bowl has slipped through Jason’s limb fingers.

It has slipped, and it is falling.

***

The splintered wood pricks and stabs the sensitive skin beneath his shattered fingernails and the blood is threatening to leave his hands and drip onto his glacial cold face. His fingers hurt, they weren’t made as a shovel, they weren’t made to be penetrating wood, but they are doing exactly that, and he can’t acknowledge the piercing, burning throbs that travel through his veins to set the rest of his body aflame, because his lungs are burning, they’re flaring up more and more with every broken attempt at filling them up with air-

He has to dig, he has to keep going-

The last layer of polished wood finally relents, small pieces of it falling onto his raggedly, but once expensive, dandy suit. Blood is mixed with sweat on his palms, accelerating the speed with which it runs along his hands, tickling him while he scrambles for a breath of fresh air that never comes.

“N..o…” he croaks out and speaking is hard, his throat feels as the ash coated land left behind the passage of lava, and now he needs to cough, and he needs to breathe but there’s no air coming in, and frankly, he can’t decide whether it’s from the panic that has overcome him or because there simply isn’t enough oxygen in the cramped space he’s trapped in.

It’s not some prank

As if on cue the ground above him slightly shakes as the mud repositions and soil seeps through the open slit of the-

Of the coffin.

I’m buried alive…. I… I…, he realizes, ever so frantically.

And so his thoughts begin to plague him, the next one banging and clawing at the door of his mind before the previous has had the time to be stated, he’s hyperventilating and fairly so, he’s buried underneath 6 feet of soil-

Stop it Jason, get ahold of yourself. You made it this far because you never gave up, you won’t give up now either, a part of himself with a semblance of sanity left scolds him and orders his bloody hands to move, they grip the edge of the broken pine casket and pull with all their might.

The wooden seal cracks and Jason makes a supernatural effort to set it aside as it holds the weight of 6 feet of soil, his atrophied muscles protest by threatening to give out but it’s sheer determination that gets him to move on, he has to make it, he can’t die in there, he can’t leave, can’t leave his family.

Mud now openly drowns him from the huge whole in the lid of the casket, devouring every corner, sticking to every inch of skin and fabric.

He’s still gasping for air, his lungs and throat feel ready to burst and he’s dizzy, everything is spinning, but on the other hand 'everything’ is nothing more but a muddy grave and he’s still inside.

Almost frantically his injured fingers reach for the source of the soil. With jerky movements and all the strength he can muster he forces his hands through the earth. The stiff mud swallows him whole, lets the worms and maggots get tangled in his long strands of hair. Jason keeps his eyes and mouth stubbornly shut as he desperately struggles to propel his flimsy frame through the endless layers of ground.

He can faintly feel the darkness creeping in the corner of his mind, promising relief, promising safety. Those whispers sound tempting to his weak, grazed arms, to his blazing lungs-

The whispers don’t know that it’s not written in his DNA to yield.

His arms hastily swim through the wet mass that’s holding him beneath the surface, he can feel the dirt in his hair, in his ears, in his shirt, his pants, his everything. Maggots and caterpillars are crawling on his convulsed features. His heart is throbbing unnaturally loud, he can hear the thumping in his ears as his marred hands push and dig with painstaking effort.

Better hurry little robin! It ain’t fun if you die now, amiright boy blunder? HahaHA!

He’s digging, he’s trying, dyeing the earth crimson with his blood, please-

The wet soil doesn’t end, it engulfs him in its cold embrace and doesn’t let him go, no matter how wildly he struggles against the earthly tendrils wrapped securely around his limbs and torso.

He’s desperately gasping for a breath, just one breath to keep going, he’s coughing up phlegm and bile while his chest writhes and burns. He can’t help his mouth gaping in a last-gasp search for oxygen but the only thing entering his mouth and traveling towards his pricking trachea is dirt and rocks and… and…

…a feather?

A feather. He can feel it with his tongue, he can taste its sourness and almost hear a soft crunch under his teeth.

A feather. Robin.

He’s Robin, and Robin doesn’t die alone in an empty grave.

Robin fights. Robin protects. Robin wins.

With renewed resoluteness he forges ahead, his hand reaches where he supposes skyward is one more time.

This time, it’s met with the comfort of soft raindrops and the gentle wind blowing against his numb fingertips.

***

“-on? Jason!” Rachel calls at the sound of the metal bowl clattering to the ground, slipping right through the boy’s fingers and letting the freshly baked popcorn scatter all over the marble floor.

The girl exchanges a worried glance with Gar, before Rose gets up and marches furiously towards an exasperatingly unresponsive Robin, the popcorn crunching beneath her feet. She comes to a halt a few inches away from Jason’s hollow eyes and slaps him hard across the cheek.

The other two begin to protest loudly but Rose barely pays them any mind. She watches with pursed lips as Jason’s cloudy eyes regain focus and his hand shoots up to the skin gradually assuming the oh-so-wonderful shade of radish.

“Ow.. what the fuck?” Jason frowns at her while cautiously rubbing his cheek with his right hand. There’s no blood on his fingers, no mud on his skin. He can breathe.

Rose ignores his baffled query and simply turns to the two teens watching the whole scene play out from the safety of the cushions. She beams triumphantly as she announces smugly, “See? It worked.”

Jason, visibly annoyed by his incompetence to understand what the hell is happening traps her wrist in a vice like grip and tugs, forcing her to face him. She squints viciously at the gesture although she effortlessly pulls her hand free.

“Why the fuck did you slap me?”

The girl opens her mouth to respond, putting together a not so composed reply in her head -to put it mildly-, so it’s probably for the best when Rachel interrupts her train of thought.

“What happened, Jason? You completely zoned out”.

“Yeah, dude. What the hell was that all about?” Gar chimes in, nodding at the pile of popcorn by Robin’s feet and at the discarded bowl that has slid all the way to the edge of the couch he and Rachel are perched on.

“Wha..” Jason regards the strewn snacks with a quizzical look, as if he’s waiting for them to answer why they’re spread out all over the floor. Oddly enough, they don’t.

He fixes his still hazy gaze on his calloused hands next, his confusion manifesting in the form of furrowed brow.

He- he was-

no. He was never there. Always here.

His inviolate fingers are proof enough of that. But then.. is he losing his mind? Just like old Bertha, the old lady running around the theater, screaming that she had been kidnapped and experimented on by flying giraffes…. Not that it’s impossible with everything he’s witnessed the past year.

No, that can’t be it. He’s still shaken up from the fall right? It’s logical that he’s hallucinating about graves, he was seconds from ending up in one just a few days ago. It will go away right?

It will, it has to.

They can’t know, the street kid inside of him insists, they’ll throw you away like a broken toy. Broken..

“Jason, talk to us. What’s wrong?” Rachel is still staring at him, they all are. Her voice is laced with pity, they’re sorry for him. They’re pitying him, the bird that broke its wing and they know that now can’t survive on its own.

“What’s wrong with me?!” His head snaps to where her voice is coming from and the girl flinches at the bite behind his words.

“I didn’t mean- I meant you should perhaps tell Dick about it, he might be able to help” she stutters, her face bearing a deer in the headlights expression. Her gaze briefly meets with Garfield’s, perhaps to seek some backup. Somehow that angers Jason even more.

“Tell Dick? Really?” he snorts, “How about we tell Dick about that time you almost fucking choked me, maybe he could help!” he gasps mockingly. He is shouting now and the girl seems taken aback by the progression of his anger, gawking at him with a hint of sorrow tainting the indigo of her irises.

Gar stands up from his seat and approaches him, getting in the way of him and a Rachel fumbling for the right response to Jason’s accusation. The green haired boy extends his hand almost cautiously, it’s a simple gesture meaning nothing else than stop. It’s common sense, he knows he is going too far again but Jason’s common sense has jumped out the window. To him, they’re treating him like a wounded animal.

Perhaps he’s just projecting how cornered he feels.

“Dude, that’s enough”

“I’m sorry to break this to you, ” he points a finger accusingly at Rachel, “but Dick can’t fix everything like some kind of god you’ve made him out to be”

“Buddy-”

“He can’t fix you and your fucking razor blade tornado or whatever…” he keeps holding Rachel’s bleak glare gesturing wildly with his fingers and ignoring Garfield’s feeble attempts at making him stop.

“…and he can’t fix this” Jason concludes by pointing miserably at his head, then the rest of his body, until his hand drops limp at his side in resignation. His newfound rage has dissipated into downright bitterness.

At the far back the movie is still playing, forgotten. In the faint comforting light of the screen the girl with the auburn hair is kneeling in front of a stone cold body, burrowing her face in chestnut locks that would never grow any longer, as her shoulders heave sharply with every wreaked sob.

Grieving. Jason can still feel the three pairs of eyes -one consisting of one blue and an eyepatch- burning holes into the glimmers of tears stubbornly refusing to be spilt from his, even as he averts his stare.

There’s a deep pause after the abrupt revelation and the four kids are encompassed in a veil of tense silence no one seems willing to break.

Rose -who seemed rather amused when the yelling had started- is now solemnly inspecting the intricate patterns on the sheer curtains tucked to the side of the plate-glass window. Garfield is standing with his arms crossed protectively around his torso. Rachel has ceased to stare wide eyed like a freshly caught fish, however she’s keeping her arms close to her body and shifting awkwardly in her place. Her expression remains grim and her eyes dim, bearing an eerily sorrowful glint.

She puts her head down and eventually flies out of the room without another word. Consumed either by irritation or even guilt, if Jason has to guess. Gar spares no more than a defeated glance at her departure, otherwise maintaining his position by the abruptly deserted couch. He simply reaches for the tv remote, cutting off image and sound amidst a heated argument between the two leads. Damn this movie.

Deathstroke’s daughter looks between the two boys expectantly for half a second. None of them pays her any mind, too busy staring at the suddenly immensely intriguing floor.

“Nevermind, I’m out of here” she mutters through gritted teeth before getting down from atop the loveseat she had claimed and heading towards her own room.

Jason stares blankly at the scattered popcorn, but it provides no answer to the million questions dancing around in his mind.

Frankly, he didn’t expect it to.

Gosh. He’s so messed up.

Gar offers to help him clean up. He refuses. Perhaps Jason pushes him away just like everyone else. He’s got his own mess to clean up, first literally.

The metaphorical one might have just stained too deeply to remedy.

The night finds him placing the broom back in it’s place in the supply closet and sitting alone in pitch darkness.

Thinking of a grave that doesn’t belong to him, it never did, but it has his name on it. Thinking of the memories he shouldn’t have, piecing together how his heart only knows more fragments have been prodding at him, more broken pieces he doesn’t know where they fit.

The night finds him sitting alone in pitch darkness. Shivering, shaking with quiet tears.

Knowing he’d be undisturbed, alone, in the grave he’s built for himself.

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janiedean · 4 years

Text

aaah, and I thought the throbb/theon fandom couldn’t disappoint me more than it already had

and yet.

okay, so, whatever, I’ve been made aware of a situation on twitter and honestly I’m tired, so let’s just have it out.

apologies for the long-ass post but I honestly am tired of being the uber-correct person who addresses everyone directly and properly and so on and all I get is finding out people trash talk behind your back anyway and don’t engage with me if they have a problem.

so, yesterday I’m minding my damned business, I see that @fleurdulys is apparently in some discussions with anti sansan people calling her names, I send her a message like ‘oh god they found you I’m so sorry’ because I have seen anti sansan takes back in the day, two people including someone that had stalked her for months start tagging me too and accusing me of the usual condoning That Horrible Problematic Ship and of being a pedo apologist blah blah blah, I block both of them, the day after another two show up in my mentions uninvited, I block both of them.

then someone who was monitoring the situation warns me that some anon is trash talking me and fleur in the curiouscat asks of some other person that I had absolutely no knowledge of until then. I went to block them, found out I had blocked them already because they were anti thr/amsay and shipped a theon show only ship I really don’t like so I went and blocked them in JULY before they changed nickname because I’m an adult and I like to think I can cut out of my life people I don’t want to risk interacting with because I know I don’t have anything to say to them. said person accused me of ‘using as a tactic calling everything calvinist’ which... well, when the problem is that antis are basically being that it’s not a tactic but whatever, I addressed it on twitter and changed my screen name as a joke because y’know what let’s embrace it, I don’t like calvinists anyway.

I go and forget about it and then the same someone monitoring the situation informs me that these lovely people had this other exchange - I’m not mentioning who it is but they’ll know and at this point I’m honestly done:

now.

sorry but what the hell.

first of all, going in order:

I blocked receiver of the CC ages ago because she ships a thing that for me is an absolute no and I have very good reasons to not like it, and I have zero interest in talking to people who ship that AND are th/ramsay antis, which is a thing that I have zero patience for whichever side of the fence you’re on - saying it as someone who doesn’t like th/ramsay but ffs I don’t agree with anti-ing stuff, if you hate it blacklist and move on with your life;

also, I wasn't lurking on her anons because I didn’t even know she was involved but someone else monitoring the situation told me I was the subject of one of them and I went and checked for myself, so like... sorry I’m not unblocking because I never searched for her, I never talked to her, I never wanted contact with her and she and the anon are there trash talking me and fleur for shipping a fictional ship so what are we even talking here;

and that’s the premise, but: I had gotten my 'bitch ass away from throbb' in 2011, the amount of fics that fandom has would Not Exist At All because *I* was the sole steady contributor (ie the only person who kept on posting it) 2011-18 (and fandom drove out the only other steady contributor in 2015-8 lmao), *I* was the one organizing most theon-based fandom events (which were opened to all ships, including the ones I hated, and if I could handle posting th/ramsay fanart/reading th/ramsay prompts/assigning them when the exchange was anonymous and I had to post all the contributions when looking at th/ramsay art made me sick back in the day I think OP can tolerate people existing and shipping stuff she don't like), *I* was the one periodically coming up with ways to make the tag less filled with hate, *I* called out every single anti shaming anyone for their ships - from thramsay to theonsa because there were theonsa antis back in S5 but she wouldn't know I suppose -, so like she can pay me the favor to not even going there because if it wasn't for me she wouldn't have throbb fic to read *period* (not to brag but check, before I started spamming the tag and helped bringing in people along with someone else who's not in fandom anymore there were literally six), so how about she check what are her contributions to the fandom (less than mine probably) other than creating drama? thanks.

also ‘theon and robb would beat pedos up’ please check your facts, theon/jeynep is going to most likely be canon and she’s like thirteen and he’s twenty-two, which is a nine year age gap, which is not even that far from sansan. also your favorite theon ship has an eight years age gap in the books too so just stop. you ain’t coherent. at least be coherent. but you can’t, because every single asoiaf ship is problematic for some reason. ;)

and that was it for OP.

now, for the anon, who honestly... the entitlement, I swear to god, but in order: if you’re that pressed because I haven’t written throbb in months also thanks to people like you you could have like, come and talked to me on tumblr because regardless from what you assume I don’t bite. also I see that you’re a throbb shipper and you’re calling me THROBB CONTENT GENERATOR?

CONTENT GENERATOR?

ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF IT?

I’M A HUMAN BEING, I’M NOT YOUR DAMNED CONTENT GENERATOR.

I DON’T GENERATE CONTENT FOR YOUR SATISFACTION, I WRITE FIC FOR SHIPS I LIKE. throbb is my otp (still, even if y’all really are trying to drive me out lol) and I wrote novels of it for years for free because I love it, BUT NOT BECAUSE I’M YOUR DAMNED CONTENT GENERATOR.

content generator.

I’m just. actually you know what, if I write throbb again after this, you can be 100% sure there’s gonna be full-on blown canon sansan in it for a very long time and I’m absolutely not going to make it avoidable if you don’t scroll half of the fic. also ‘I could ask her to write it but she’d put sansan in it so I won’t’ who the hell do you think you are?

who the hell do you think you are?

I take prompts when I can because I want to and because once in a while I enjoy the idea of writing stuff for people because other than being something I love, I like the idea that I can make someone’s day nicer by filling them a prompt if they like my writing, I don’t do that just because you ask.

what the hell? so you’d ask and me, a poor idiot, not knowing it was you, would put it on a to-write list of prompts that’s like ten pages of notebook long because that’s how long my goddamned list is, while you’re here laughing that someone whose writing you like but whose personality you obviously despise has written you your favorite ship for free not knowing that it’s for someone that doesn’t like her all that much?

jesus christ.

like, I thought this fandom couldn’t get lower than the let’s plagiarize fics deal last july, but this is honestly rich.

and then you wonder why whenever I think about finishing sfbd or writing a ship that used to make me happy to write now I go like ‘f* this noise why should I bother I’m writing any other damned pairing instead’.

and I have to read this shit from someone who, when I blocked them the moment I got the fandom twitter account, who I never searched for, who I never talked to and who is friends with people who happily accuse others of being pedo apologists because they ship sansan which is, oh, wait, an almost-canon ship with canon text supporting it and that grrm himself certainly doesn’t hate and has admitted to have been leading up to, and now wants me to unblock her to talk??? when their friends showed up in my mentions absolutely uninvited because I sent support to someone who was arguing with them because we both ship sansan and I’ve done it for longer so I know how’s the deal?

and from some kind of anon who sure as hell reads my fics enough that they know I’m still the most prolific throbb contributor to the tag even if I haven’t written throbb in a year and some who calls me content generator and not even contributor as if I was some kind of juke box machine where you put in prompts and get out 5k minimum fics for free? and who still would like to read them enough to throw that shade but has no issues trashing me because I’m pointing out that antis think exactly like 17th century calvinists, which is a thing that can 100% be proved the moment you look up how the aforementioned calvinists thought?

like, I’d like to kindly tell the both of them to find a hobby that’s not trying to fele better harassing people they don’t know for fictional ships and remind everyone on here (because I’m sure anon is on tumblr as it’s where I hang out most of the time anyway) including the few anons who have asked me if I’d consider writing throbb again in the last months and who asked me if I’d run theonexchange again at some point that fic writers are human beings, not jukeboxes, and that being assholes has, as a usual consequence, driving the content creators out. I’m not a content generator, I’m not here to get laughed at because I fill prompts and I generally like to put content in the tags and not drama and because I think that being a fandom contributor should mean spreading positivity instead of shaming people for what they ship.

anyway: as a conclusion to this rant, I’m definitely not writing throbb that doesn’t have sansan in it anytime soon and if I run theonexchange again at some point (which I would like to but with these premises you’ll see that finding the force of will when I have a life is kind of a problem) if I find out that OP or any of her friends want to participate they’re kindly welcomed not to because I’m banning them on sight.

wow, get my bitch ass away from a fandom I kind of helped make and contributed 10% of the ao3 content to.

congrats, you just made sure I really won’t when I was taking a break but I was planning to come back at some point even if right now it’s quite tempting.

thanks for reading this if you got to this point and sorry for the rant but I’m tired.

I’m really tired.

also I’ve always said I shipped sansan from the moment I was in this fandom, I tag it also for blacklisting purposes and I don’t even put it as a side in fics that much because it doesn’t come up, so if anyone is so disgusted by it they’re welcome to learn to coexist with people who ship stuff they don’t like.

again: I’m really tired.

#throbb #theon greyjoy #oh wow that's always nice to find out from people who technically ship what I like!#also i mean you'd think i'm idk some kinda snobbish asshole who doesn't reply to every single ask she gets #and who hasn't filled prompts here since 2011 without expecting really anything but whatever #and who hasn't like talked to people if they had issues #except that i did all of that #and finding out this crap is like disheartening #like wow then you wonder why i don't feel it anymore #as if i didn't spend years trying to make sure the theon fandom wasn't a continuous hatred shitfest #as if i didn't call people out for anti-ing any ship bc it was already not many of us #i just wanted people to get along and create stuff instead of eating each other up #even ship i personally didn't like or that ACTUALLY MADE ME SICK #i'm tired #i'm really tired #sorry for the word-vomit but some of you really need to learn some manners #obviously your parents didn't teach you #and it shows #thank you i'm done

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cycwrites · 5 years

Text

Switching Gears Part 2 - W.T.F. Just Happened?

Words: 4683

Rating: M (Eventually. I think.)

Tumblr Master Post

Also on AO3 and FFN

As always, thanks to @tiny-maus-boots for all the Beta’ing and support.

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

~S~

“I’m sorry, you need what?”

Stacie paced in front of Chloe’s desk. “Bolt cutters. Some crazy woman just locked my bike to one of the racks with her chain.” She was still seething over the absolute insanity of it.

She’d walked outside and blinked stupidly at the second chain wrapped above hers. Looking up she’d searched the crowd around her before her eyes locked on the blonde from earlier. Who then had the fucking nerve to smile at her and ring the bell on her handlebars as she rode off.

Stacie could still hear the trill of it in her head and every time it echoed it took on an increasingly mocking edge. Needless to say any zen she’d gotten from her yoga class was rapidly dissipating.

When she’d double checked that the lock was indeed in place and she couldn’t just unwrap the damn thing, she’d stormed back into the building, people parting before her like a wave. She’d made her way straight to Chloe’s office to get the bolt cutters kept on hand for locks left on lockers.

Chloe watched her, confused. “Why would she do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Chlo!” Stacie threw her arms up in the air. “Because she’s fucking nuts?”

“She just… randomly chose you out of the several dozen bikes that are out there at any given moment?” Chloe tried to be neutral but Stacie could hear the amusement layered under it.

“She accused me of ‘taking her spot’.” Stacie stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Like it had her name on it. Said she’d been waiting for whoever had been there to leave, like it’s a parking lot at the mall.” Stacie’s hands shot into the air again. “I didn’t see anyone else in that spot for the three minutes it took me to ride up and get off my bike. Then suddenly this blonde woman who had been on her phone like ten feet away is yelling ‘That’s my spot!’”

Chloe twisted her lips like she was trying to keep from laughing. “Oh.”

“That’s it?” Stacie stared at her. “Just ‘oh’?”

“What else am I supposed to say, Stacie? ‘Let’s track her down and call the law on her?’” She grinned but Stacie was still too pissed off to find it funny.

“Do you think that’d work?” Stacie muttered.

“No.” Chloe said, still showing a complete lack of concern. “But I am tempted to look back through the security footage to find out who has you so riled up.”

“Would you ban her for life?” Stacie resumed her pacing, too agitated to be still.

“Stacie.” Chloe chided.

“You’re too nice a person.” Stacie accused.

“And I don’t want to get a bad reputation now that Stretch has finally become noticed.” Chloe watched her. “Please sit down, you’re making me want to get up and pace with you.”

Grudgingly Stacie took a seat. “One person wouldn’t – “

“One bad review and the whole thing could fall apart,” Chloe interrupted. “You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”

Deflating slightly, even though she knew that Chloe was exaggerating on purpose, Stacie slumped in her chair. “No.” The two of them had been best friends since middle school and Stacie would never do anything that could potentially hurt Chloe’s dream.

Chloe had been working non-stop for the past four years to have Stretch It Out become a central point for almost all fitness needs. What started out as a dance studio, with her as the only instructor, had grown to encompass so much more: Spin classes, yoga, aerobics, dancercise – which Stacie still rolled her eyes at; ‘What’s next, that whole horse prancing thing, Chlo?’ – and she was hoping to hire a CrossFit trainer by the end of the year. Stacie was trying to convince Chloe to hire a self-defense instructor and/or someone who could teach kickboxing; she’d always wanted to learn and if she could do it cheaper thanks to her lifetime bestie discount it was even better.

“Aw, you do love me.” Chloe stood up from her chair and walked over to stroke her hand along Stacie’s hair. “Come on, I still wanna see the mystery woman.” She leaned down and grabbed Stacie’s hand and tugged. “Bolt cutters are in Security anyway.”

With a sigh, Stacie let herself be pulled to her feet. “Fiiiiine.” She followed Chloe down the hall to the door unobtrusively marked ‘Video’. “But if you’re not going to let me try and press charges I don’t know what the big deal is.”

“That’s okay ,” Chloe shrugged and opened the door with her key. “You don’t have to.” She waved Stacie in. “After you.”

“So kind,” Stacie rolled her eyes then smiled at the woman sitting in front of a station of five monitors. “Hey, Amy.”

“Skyscraper.” The Australian nodded at her. “How’s the weather up there?”

“Nothin’ but blue sky, Ames.” Stacie leaned against a filing cabinet.

Amy nodded at Chloe as she shut the door behind them. “Boss.”

“Can you pull up the camera for the racks in front and run it back about…” Chloe trailed off and looked at Stacie who checked her watch.

“What?” Amy interrupted before she could answer, looking at Chloe with confusion. “You can do that?”

Chloe stared at her for several seconds. “You’ve been here a year and you didn’t know that?” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me again why I hired you?”

Amy clicked her tongue. “You gotta keep me around so people remember why they’re here.”

“Amy!” Chloe gasped as Stacie frowned. “Don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“What, are you saying I’m not hot?” Amy eyed her carefully. “That’s why people do all these classes of yours, don’t they? To be hot?”

Stacie couldn’t help but smile. She was confident but no one was as confident as Amy. “You’re absolutely right, Amy.”

“Right.” Amy nodded at her. “Maybe I should read the manual…” She turned her chair to look at the thick binder resting on the desk next to her.

“Maybe,” Chloe said dryly. “But for now, let me in there so I can check the feeds.” Amy pushed her chair out of the way but made no move to stand.

Stacie could see that Chloe almost asked for the chair and decided against it. Instead she just stood in front of the console and looked back at Stacie. “After yoga class?” She clicked a button and the front entrance camera filled the center, and biggest, monitor.

“Yeah, after my shower.” Stacie scowled at the screen as Chloe turned a dial and the image began to run backward.

“You were naked with someone in the shower?” Amy asked teasingly from behind them. “I didn’t think Chloe allowed that kind of –”

“No!” Stacie cut her off and crossed her arms. “I did not have anyone in my cubicle with me.”

“Pity.”

“Found it!” Chloe suddenly said and Stacie’s eyes darted back to the monitor, now paused on the image of the uptight blonde kneeling by Stacie’s bike, chain through Stacie’s front tire. “Oh…”

Stacie turned sharply. “Oh?” Chloe’s tone had been somewhere between surprised and amused and it caught her attention.

Chloe chewed on her lower lip and Stacie couldn’t tell if it was in worry or to hide a grin. “That’s Aubrey.”

Bemused despite the slight renewal of her anger, Stacie half grinned at her friend. “Seriously, do you know everyone?”

‘Aubrey.’ Stacie rolled it over in her mind. ‘Why does that name sound familiar?’

“A good business owner is friendly and gets to know their clientele, Stacie.” Chloe said absently, her eyes still on the monitor as she let it run forward again. “But…”

It finally clicked and Stacie snapped her fingers, making both Chloe and Amy jump. “That’s her!” She pointed an accusing finger at Chloe. “That’s the hottie from spin class, isn’t it?” She frowned. “Wait, she rides her bike here, takes a spin class and then rides home or whatever? Isn’t that… overkill? She’s clearly even more insane than I thought.” She looked back at the screen. “Maybe her broom is in the shop.” Her eyes narrowed on the hand that had just lifted from the bell; even though there was no sound Stacie could still hear it ringing. “I’m going to steal that fucking bell.”

Without looking Chloe lightly poked her in the stomach. “Well, yes. That’s… her.” Chloe looked up at Stacie. “I’ve never heard her having any sort of altercation with anyone before.” She faced the desk and turned the dial, the image once more going in reverse.

“Gee, my lucky day.” Stacie resisted the urge to pace again.

“What’s the matter, you fancy her?” Amy said as she twisted lightly back and forth in the chair.

“I fancy strangling her.” Stacie muttered.

“Didn’t know you were into the kinky stuff.” Amy whistled appreciatively. “I now see you in a whole new light.”

“I don’t… that’s not…” Stacie stared at her. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re also not actually saying you’re not.” Amy nodded. “But I get it, you’re embarrassed. You shouldn’t be. We like what we like.” She tilted her head and Stacie began to wonder if she was dreaming. “Though, if Chloe likes the blonde, I don’t know if you should go poaching.” She put her hand to the side of her mouth and whispered, “At least not when she’s around to see you do it.”

Stacie’s mouth worked but all she could come up with was “I would never go after someone Chloe likes.”

“Tyler Winston.” Chloe paused the feed again as she turned and leaned her hip against the security desk, a smirk on her lips.

“He doesn’t count,” Stacie said indignantly. “I had just moved to town and had no idea you had your baby blues on him!” She put her hands on her hips. “We weren’t even friends then!”

Chloe tilted her head from side to side, considering. “Alright. That’s fair.”

“See? I would nev–”

“Kasie Carson.” Chloe cut her off.

“C’mon, Chlo.” Stacie groaned. “She was hot and I was a hormonal teenager.”

“Like that’s any different now.” Chloe turned to Amy. “Kasie was one of the members of our high school dance team. She transferred in from another school – by that time Stacie and I had moved past Tyler and had become best friends – and she was raven haired and gorgeous.”

“Did you ever smash that?” The Australian looked between them.

“No.” Chloe said and Stacie echoed it.

“No, because after Tyler we made a pact not to go after anyone we both liked.” Stacie threw her hands in the air. “Which I have never done, as you well know.”

“So you guys have been friends for a while then?” Amy leaned back in her chair.

“Oh, totes.” Chloe grinned at her. “Since seventh grade. In high school we were inseparable; we took the same classes, the same extra-curricular activities.”

“Like dance team.” Amy nodded slowly, looking between them. “I see.” Stacie knew there was more she wanted to say when her lips pursed.

“Any time we had competitions away we always shared a dinky hotel room.” Stacie offered, more to see where Amy would go with it though she was pretty sure she had an idea.

“So you slept in the same bed.” Amy nodded sagely. “I see,” she said again, one eyebrow arching up.

“Yeah.” Chloe nodded back at her then frowned. “Not sexually.” Stacie waited, knowing it was coming. “Well, there was that one time.” Chloe turned and winked at her.

Stacie shrugged but smiled back. They’d decided to see if there was anything more between them and while the night had been... amazing… they’d both decided they worked better as friends. Nothing had changed between them; if anything it had deepened their friendship.

And, okay, maybe they’d had a handful of such encounters over the years when they were single and the mood struck them, but that certainly wasn’t any of Amy’s business. They had fun together but neither of them had ever talked about it being anything more. She supposed she ought to examine that one day, but for now it was enough that she knew the two of them would always be together even if they weren’t together.

“But now tall, dark and gorgeous wants your spin class hottie.” Amy interrupted her thoughts as Chloe turned back to the controls.

“Yes.” Chloe said over her shoulder, still grinning.

“No.” Stacie said over her, with enforced patience. “I am not asking out the crazy lady!”

“Then why are we looking into the footage?” Amy asked, almost reasonably. “And why is she crazy?”

“Because she locked my bike to the rack with her chain.” It didn’t get any less surreal the more she said it. “I need the bolt cutters, by the way.”

Amy jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “In the closet.” She moved to push herself up but Stacie waved her down.

“I got it, no big.” She moved to the door and opened the closet, digging around until she found the heavy duty cutters.

“And here is the first encounter. This oughta be interesting.” Chloe resumed playback on the video and zoomed as much as the system would let her. “Boy, she does look pissed.”

“She sounded it too.” Stacie studied the screen, the image clearer than she would’ve expected.

“You could you know.” Chloe said absently and Stacie turned her attention away from the monitor as their encounter continued.

“Could what? Press charges?” While she was still pissed, Stacie was over the worst of it. “Nah. It’d cost more than it’d be worth.”

“No,” Chloe turned to face her. “Ask her out.”

“I don’t want to ask her out,” Stacie said, waving the hand not holding the bolt cutters.

“You know nothing ever happened between Aubrey and me. And I’m not an insecure teenager anymore. It never happened. Or she wasn’t interested.”

“Because you never asked her out,” Stacie countered. “Anyone with eyes is interested in you, Chlo.”

“Timing.” Chloe shrugged. “Never seemed right.” Chloe had first mentioned Aubrey a year ago and Stacie kept waiting for the details of their first date but it had never happened. Chloe hadn’t wanted to seem like she was hitting on the clientele and Stacie couldn’t believe Aubrey hadn’t asked her out. Of course now that she knew Aubrey was crazy it made more sense and she figured Chloe had dodged a bullet.

“Excuse me.” Amy interjected and they both turned to look at her but she was watching the screen. “But what did you say to her right then?”

Chloe ran the footage back, both of them having tuned it out while they talked. “Oh. No, I was wrong before. Now she looks pissed.”

Stacie thought for a second and then laughed. “I told her she should try yoga, it might help her unclench.”

“Oh, Stretch.” Amy shook her head. “That’s not how you woo a woman.”

“I WASN’T TRYING TO WOO HER!” Stacie yelled.

“Alright, alright.” Amy patted the air. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, jeeze.”

“Stacie,” Chloe pulled her attention back. “Then what did you say to her?”

“I said…” Stacie stopped abruptly as her words came back. “Nothing. Why?”

“Because whatever it was, I’m shocked you’re not dead from the glare she just gave you.” Chloe paused the footage and smirked at her. “So?”

“Yeah, spill.” Amy joined in.

Stacie tried to shrug nonchalantly. “That she’d be cuter if her face wasn’t pinched.” There was no way she was giving them the rest of it. She didn’t even know why she’d said it – except it was true. Somehow the way the other woman – Aubrey’s – nostrils had flared the angrier she got was… cute. And, now that she wasn’t being yelled at, Stacie could admit Aubrey was an attractive woman; toned arms and legs, glossy blonde hair, exactly the kind of woman that Stacie – and Chloe – would be attracted to.

Except she was also just nuttier than a fruitcake.

“She is cute.” Amy agreed. “When are you going to ask her out?”

“Oh my god.” Stacie covered her face with her free hand. “Never.”

“You should.”

Stacie’s head snapped up at Chloe’s words. “Are you kidding me? Not only is she insane, she obviously hates me and will probably pop my tire if I’m ever in ‘her spot’ again.”

“You started assigning spots to the bike rack?” Amy pointed at Chloe. “I hope you don’t expect me to police that – it wasn’t part of my job requirement when I signed on.”

“I didn’t assign spots, Amy. It’s a long story.” Chloe held up her hand to stop Amy from speaking. “I’ll tell you later.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I don’t get nearly enough gossip.” Amy sighed. “It’s horrible being stuck in this room all day.”

“Amy.” Chloe shook her head. “You go hang out with Emily at the front desk all the time. All you two do is gossip.” She pressed another button and the monitors reset to live feeds.

“She’s good company.” Amy paused. “And really easy to tease.”

“You be nice to my cousin,” Stacie warned. “I don’t wanna have to kick your ass.”

“Yeah yeah.” Amy waved away the threat.

“C’mon, let’s go get your bike out of bondage.” Chloe put her hands on Stacie’s shoulders and turned her around.

Stacie just groaned as she let herself be led from the room and back through the halls until they reached the lobby and passed back outside into the late afternoon sun. “I still can’t believe this is a thing that happened.”

“You did seem to make a lasting impression on her,” Chloe said as she crouched and gave the chain a tug. “That’s a pretty heavy duty one too; probably cost her a pretty penny.” She tugged again. “It might take the two of us to cut it.”

“Think the lock would be easier?” Stacie ignored the looks they were getting from other people going in and out of the building.

“Nah. Locks are always worse.” Chloe stood back up. “Alright, let’s get it done.”

Between the two of them they were able to get enough force to cut through the chain though at one point Stacie thought they might have to go get Amy to help.

“Freedom!” Chloe yelled as the metal finally gave way.

“Thank god,” Stacie panted as she straightened up, stretching out her back. “Hunching over like that was starting to hurt.”

“Are you getting old?” Chloe shoulder bumped her.

“I’m younger than you,” Stacie replied automatically as she hefted the cut chain in her hands.

“Gimme, I’ll chuck it in the dumpster out back.” Chloe held out her hand and Stacie dropped the chain into it.

“Thanks. I’ll return the cutters to Amy.” Stacie lifted the tool to rest on her shoulder. “Thanks for the help, Chlo.”

“That’s what best friends are for.” Chloe said as they walked back inside, waving at Emily at the counter.

“And you’re the best.” Stacie paused outside Amy’s room. “But I am not asking out your hottie.”

“Notice I didn’t bring it up this time.” Chloe kept walking down the hall but turned to walk backwards, smug grin firmly in place. “You know – with all the denials… you haven’t actually said you weren’t interested…”

Stacie opened her mouth, firmly intending to unequivocally put an end to it once and for all, but what she said was, “Stop trying to set me up with crazy, Chlo.” She frowned at herself.

Chloe’s grin widened slowly like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, Stace. You don’t even see it.” Before Stacie could ask her what the hell she was talking about, Chloe turned with a laugh and headed toward the back of the building, the chain swinging lightly from her hand.

With an annoyed grunt at her departing friend, Stacie knocked on the security room door. “Ames, it’s me. Returning the bolt cutters.” After a moment the door opened a crack and Amy peered out at her for a moment before opening the door all the way.

“Got yourself out of bondage then?” Amy grinned at her and took the bolt cutters Stacie held out.

“I should’ve expected that,” Stacie shook her head. “Yes, thanks for your concern.”

“Any time.” Amy hefted the cutters. “If you piss off any more women who are into chains…” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I want all the dirty details.”

“That’s…” Stacie sighed. “Goodbye, Amy.” She turned to go and caught sight of the binder sitting open on the desk. “You decided to give it a go?”

“Yeah.” Amy looked over her shoulder and then back at Stacie. “There’s some footage of me and my man in the shower after hours last week that maybe I don’t want the boss to see now that I know it records.” She shrugged. “Not that I’m ashamed, but she might not understand.”

By sheer force of will Stacie kept herself from laughing. “Nope, I get it. It’s doing her a favor, really.”

“Exactly!” Amy stepped back and started closing the door. “I knew you would understand, what with the whole chains thing and all.”

“Right.” Stacie turned and paused as a thought came to her. “But… there are no cameras in the showers or locker room?”

“We may not have stayed in the shower the whole time…” Amy pursed her lips. “Sometimes passion cannot be contained to one room.”

“Right…” Stacie said again, nodding slowly and firmly telling herself not to allow that image to form. She’d met Bumper and she’d never be able to look at either of them the same way again. She backed away from the door with a final wave. “See you later.”

As she reached the lobby, she paused by the counter. “Still on for dinner tomorrow?”

Emily looked up from the schedule she was putting together. “Yup. You still cooking?”

“I suppose it’s my turn.” Stacie pursed her lips. “Does pizza count as cooking if it’s DiGiorno?”

Emily’s head tilted from side to side as she thought. “It kind of sounds like cheating, but since you’ll let me throw whatever I want on it, sure.”

“Deal.” Stacie nodded. “Tomorrow then.”

“Later,” Emily said as she turned back to her chart.

Trying not to think too much about the last time she’d gone through this process, Stacie unchained her bike and stowed the chain and lock. She put in her earbuds, started up her favorite playlist and did her very best to not think about Aubrey and the whole ridiculous encounter. It was a fluke, it’s not like they’d crossed paths before and she probably wouldn’t see Aubrey again.

Except that every time she stopped actively thinking about anything else the rest of her night, she found her mind circling back to one very angry blonde staring her down.

By the time she woke up the next day, the encounter was far enough removed that she only thought of it in passing, mostly when she was riding her bike to and from work. And even then it wasn’t for very long and was nothing more than a mental snort of derision.

Until, that is, Emily came over for dinner. Then her cousin grilled her on what had happened the day before, since she’d seen some of it through the glass doors.

“So are you asking her out?” Emily asked curiously as she dried the last of the dishes.

“Oh. My. God.” Stacie dropped onto her couch, being careful not to spill her wine. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because she’s pretty.” Emily followed her into the living room and sat down with one leg drawn underneath her so she could face Stacie. “And she’s really nice.”

“She chained my bike to the rack. There is nothing nice about that.” Stacie took a bracing drink. “She’s crazy.”

“No, she’s not.” Emily insisted. “She always tells me hello when she comes in and goodbye when she leaves. Flo loves her in class because she’s so energetic and friendly.” Emily poked Stacie in the knee. “So you should definitely think about asking her out. You’ve been alone too long.”

“I’m not alone,” Stacie countered automatically. “You’re here. I got Chlo…”

“You haven’t dated in months.” Emily raised one brow. “You never not date.”

“Eh.” Stacie shrugged. “I got tired of the same type of people. No one is ever interested in more than just my boobs.”

“Gross.” Emily’s nose wrinkled.

“Exactly.” Stacie shrugged. “And while that was fine in college, it doesn’t have the same thrill that it used to.”

“Aw, are you finally maturing?” Emily ducked when Stacie tried to flick her in the nose. “Hey, no cousin on cousin violence.” Eyeing Stacie warily, she leaned her shoulder against the couch. “Seriously though… I don’t like to see you alone.”

“I’m okay, really.” Stacie smiled at her. “Thanks for the concern though.”

“Since you won’t date Chloe – who I still say would be good for you – then you’re going to have to start branching out of your comfort zone.” Emily nodded sagely.

“Crazy should be outside of everyone’s comfort zone. And Chloe and I… that just seems weird after all these years.” Stacie shrugged. “I love her, of course, but I don’t know that I’m in love with her.”

“That’s not a good enough reason to not date and figure it out, but I get it.” Emily half shrugged. “And, seriously, you could do worse than Aubrey.” She sat back up, her expression earnest. “And I’m not saying you have to ask her to marry you, just coffee! Sit down and talk!”

“I’d be too afraid that she’d chain me to my chair.” Stacie paused, one corner of her mouth twitching into a grin as she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Although…”

“Ew, gross. No more putting the sex thoughts in my head.” Emily shook her head rapidly. “I take it back.”

“I thought so.” Stacie took another drink of her wine and gestured at the bookcase. “Go pick a movie, Nerd.”

“Just for that, I’m goin’ with a sappy romance to put you in the mood,” Emily threatened as she pushed herself off the couch. “And you’re not going to fall asleep this time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stacie got up as well. “Then I’m getting the bottle.” She paused in the entryway to the kitchen. “Besides, I’m probably not going to see her again. We’ve gone this long without passing each other, so you and Chlo need to just stop the match making.”

“Ooh, Chloe’s on board too?” Emily spun to face her, eyes sparkling with glee. “Excellent.”

“Make that two bottles.” Stacie walked into the kitchen.

~*~

A week and a half later Stacie rode to the studio for her yoga class.

As she hopped off to park her bike in the closest rack, her eyes flicked to the one that had been the scene of so much chaos. It had become a habit every day she was there, though she wasn’t sure why. She froze in the act of unwrapping her chain from the bike frame.

Sitting in ‘her spot’ was Aubrey’s red bike. Stacie knew it was hers because no one else in town had a stupid bell on their bike. The second she laid eyes on it she had the echo of its ring go through her head. She eyed it narrowly, noting that it wouldn’t require any sort of tool to remove.

Locking her bike to the rack she made her way inside, ignoring the way Emily waved at her excitedly and gave her a thumbs up with an overly exaggerated wink.

“Guess who is here?” She stage whispered the second Stacie was close enough.

“I don’t care.” Stacie walked past the desk toward her class. “Bye Emily.”

“But…” Emily said behind her but stopped when Stacie kept walking. “Spoil sport.”

‘If it’s still here when I leave, I’m going to steal that fucking bell.’

Feeling slightly better with a retaliation plan in place, even if it felt extremely petty, Stacie went to her locker to get her yoga mat.

#staubrey #stacie conrad #chloe beale #aubrey posen #wlw #fat amy #emily junk #cyc writes #switching gears

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years

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It’s the Hard-Knock Life - an ATWQ Modern AU [tumblr] [ao3]

ONE - FIRST IMPRESSIONS (or, how Lemony got Annie banned from the Far East Apartment)

Lemony slumped down at the table, glanced up at the empty chair, and said, “So, like, where the hell is our guardian?”

S. Theodora Markson’s seat, which was always occupied at exactly 9:30am for breakfast (she insisted everyone follow schedule, though not a schedule that would interfere with her sleep), was suspiciously missing a large-haired, vaguely annoyed woman.

Jacques, who was in his chair, as he always was, and was salting his scrambled eggs, as he always was, simply said, “She’s out.”

“She has a life?” Lemony gawked, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “I thought she just yelled at us, fucked off to the police station for eight hours, and then came back and slept for a hundred years.”

“Don’t be rude, Lemony.” Jacques scolded. “Theodora has given us a home out of the goodness of her-”

“She gets paid to watch us, Jacques.”

“Just because foster parents are paid by the state-”

“That’s why she has us, so she can afford alcohol.”

“She’s not-”

“Oh no? What do you think’s in the locked cabinet under her bed?”

“First of all, why would you know-”

“Lockpicking was the first thing Aunt A taught us, Jacques. I could do that before I learned how to read.”

Jacques took a deep breath. “If you’ve drunk alcohol-”

“Don’t fret, Jacques, it tastes like shit.”

“Lem!”

Thankfully for Lemony, Kit arrived late to breakfast- while not usual, per se, there had been some precedence for it before, if she was caught up in a book or project- and as she tied her hair back into its usual bun, she said, “Hey, shitbirds, when are the new kids arriving?”

“Don’t call us shitbirds, we’re your siblings.” Jacques said.

“What new kids?” Lemony asked.

Kit gave him a look. “Do you pay attention to anything Ms Markson says over dinner?”

“No, I tune out and long for death. Or text Beatrice.”

“Same thing.” Jacques muttered.

Lemony flared. “Just because she’s goth doesn’t mean she’s fueling my depression, asshole.”

“Seriously, you two,” Jacques groaned as Kit grabbed a breakfast bar, which had been left at her spot at the table. “What did Theodora say about language?”

“Fuck that.” Kit sat down, smirking. “Anyway, L, she’s got two new foster kids comin up. Congrats! You’re a big brother! Or maybe little brother still. Depends on how old they are.”

“Two new kids?” Lemony looked upset. “Are we gonna have to share beds?”

“We’ll just have to clear all our clothes off the empty bunk bed.”

“But that’s our closet!”

“The closet is the closet, Lem.” Jacques groaned.

“No, that’s the prison for when Kit pisses me off.”

At the same time, Kit said, “That’s his sulking closet.”

Jacques rolled his eyes. “Well, you better get it cleaned up before they arrive. Theodora said she’d be back after noon, but we better make our own lunch, because she’s treating the kids to McDonald’s or something like that.”

“How come she doesn’t treat us to McDonald’s?” Lemony asked sourly.

“Because you’re a little monster.”

“Okay, fair.” Lemony sighed. “But do I have to clean? I was hoping to go to Beatrice’s.”

“Clean it before the new kids get here or I’m gonna hang you from the window like a clothesline.”

“Okay, geez.”

Lemony and Kit did manage to find room for their clothes in the closet, and Jacques made them clean up a little of the rest of the room, too- books in their proper places, socks in the sock drawer, schoolbooks in their backpacks.

“I don’t see the point.” Lemony sighed, picking apart the grilled cheese Jacques had made them. “They’re moving in with us, they should know what they’re getting into from the get-go.”

“We should make a good first impression, Lem.”

“We should make an accurate first impression.”

“And,” Kit said, glancing at the door, just as the lock began to turn, “First impressions start now.”

She tossed the rest of her sandwich in the trash, grabbed Lemony’s and tossed it, too, and hauled her younger brother to his feet. Jacques jumped up, pushing Lemony’s hair back, as if he could make it more presentable that way.

“Stop being dicks!” Lemony hissed.

The apartment door opened, and Jacques led his siblings from the table, over the small border between the “living room” and kitchen- which, really, were only separated by the kitchen having wood floor and the living area having carpeting- and to the doorway, as S Theodora Markson entered, still untangling her driving helmet from her bushy hair, followed by a tall girl with night-black hair, a green duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and a garbage bag in her other hand. She glanced around at the other kids with a detached disinterest, her eyebrows curved a little like question marks, as a boy followed close behind, only carrying his trashbag. The boy was much smaller, with curly ginger hair, normal eyebrows, and hazel eyes, as opposed to the girl’s green. In other words, they didn’t seem to be related at all.

“Right.” Theodora removed her helmet, tossing it into the corner. “Children, allow me to introduce your new siblings.”

“Foster siblings.” Kit corrected. “They probably won’t even stay long.”

“I won’t.” the girl said.

“Now, now, don’t be rude. Be sensible. Be proper.” S Theodora said. She turned to the Snicket siblings. “Children, these are Jacques, Kit and Lemony Snicket. Snickets, these are Ellington Feint and Drumstick… what was your last name again?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Drumstick sighed.

“What kind of a name is Drumstick?” Lemony asked.

“What kind of a nickname is Lemony?” Drumstick snapped.

“Children!” S Theodora shouted, and Lemony begrudgingly went quiet. “Now, I have to return to work, so, Snickets, I expect you to get the new children settled. No troublemaking, no fights, and I also expect you to go over the rules, so that I won’t be bothered to do it.”

“Of course.” Jacques sighed.

“They’ll be going to school with you, and I expect you to stand up for them. People tend to bully orphans.”

“I’m not an orphan.” Ellington snapped.

“Of course you are, you have no parents. Children, I’ll return in time for dinner. Who’s making it tonight?”

“Me.” Kit said. It was Theodora’s night, but nobody liked her cooking.

“Excellent! Ellington, Drumstick, I’ll see you when I return.”

With that, the woman grabbed her driving helmet, and ducked out.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Kit said. “We’ve had her for the past- how long’s it been, L?”

“Fifteen months, twenty-seven days. Don’t call me L.”

“Right.” Kit said. “We’ve been expecting new kids for a while now-”

“Because Theodora gets paid per kid.” Lemony said, gesturing. “Follow me, our room’s this way.”

“We’re sharing a room?” Drumstick asked nervously.

“Not enough space for more than one kids’ room. Don’t worry, we change in the bathroom.”

“Now, Lemony-” Jacques ran to catch up, as the new children followed him, and Kit fell back to walk by Ellington, “Theodora’s fostering us because she cares about us.”

“Yeah. If we die, she doesn’t get paid.”

“Lemony!” Jacques turned to the others. “I’m sorry about him. He’s a pessimist.”

“He’s realistic.” Kit said under her breath.

“It’s fine, we get it.” Ellington said. “Don’t worry about us, though. I’ve been to twelve foster homes in the last two months, so I don’t expect to stay long.”

“Twelve in two months?” Kit whistled. “How’d you manage that?”

“Kept running away. Plan to continue.”

“Please don’t.” Jacques said, holding open the door to their room. “You could get hurt.”

“And we’ll get in trouble for it.” Kit added.

Ellington walked into the room, scanning it slightly. Then she said, “Kid, you’re staying longer. You want top or bottom bunk?”

“Um…” Drumstick adjusted his hold on his bag. “I’m not great with heights.”

“Well, I am, that works out.” Ellington swung her duffel up onto the top bunk, and then sat down, opening the trashbag. “My shit’s in here, but it probably won’t stay long. Might as well set up my record player, though.”

“Why do you still have a record player?” Lemony asked, sitting on his bed and grabbing his laptop.

“Why do you look like a goth Eddie Kaspbrak?”

“Okay, so, first off,” Kit clapped her hands together, as Drumstick dragged his stuff to the bottom bunk and opened his bag, “Um, Rule One is we’re supposed to try to get along.”

“Keyword being ‘try.’” Lemony said, already loading up Discord in order to tell his associates why he was stuck at home that day.

“Kit, I can go over the rules-” Jacques began.

“No, they won’t listen to you, you’re a little bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

Drumstick flinched, pulling some clothes out of his bag. “Where do I put-”

“That dresser’s empty, unless Kit’s adopted cockroaches again.” Lemony gestured.

Jacques groaned, as Kit said, “Yeah, rule number two, Jacques is our designated bug killer, I’m the designated bug freer. Choose wisely which one you want as your ally. Um, let’s see… you have to be home before 10:00pm every night, breakfast is at 9:30am and if you don’t show up you don’t get food, piss off Ms Markson and you get put on probation- don’t ask, we don’t know what it entails, either, but she can ground us from things we like so watch out for that.”

Drumstick pushed his clothes into a single drawer- he didn’t seem to have very many- and Lemony asked, “Why do you have your stuff in trashbags?”

Drumstick flinched again, and so did Ellington, who was pulling black clothes out to stuff somewhere. Kit and Jacques both shot Lemony angry looks, too.

“Um… it’s the only bags the social services workers had for us.” Drumstick muttered.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ellington said again. “I’m leaving soon as I get the chance.”

“Good luck.” Lemony snorted. “We’re on the thirteenth floor and Theodora keeps the doors locked.”

“Yeah,” Jacques said, “Because someone kept picking the locks and going out for root beer floats.”

“I could’ve jumped onto a train. You’re just lucky my need for food outweighs my need to get as far away from Theodora as I possibly can.” He glanced at his Discord. “Oh, uh, new kids on the block? Jake says hi.”

“I don’t know who that is.” Drumstick said.

“Wait, more rules.” Kit said. “No polka, or Lemony will kill you. Frozen sing-a-longs are mandatory. Snitches get stitches, so if you see me sneak someone in and out-”

“Which won’t happen, because nobody wants to hang out with you, let alone date.” Lemony said.

“Uncalled for.” Kit didn’t even flinch. “Long story short, we don’t snitch on each others’ activities to Ms Markson. You’ll get beat up soon as she leaves.”

“That’s not a rule.” Jacques said, confused.

“It is now. Personal property is just that- personal. Don’t steal our shit, we don’t steal yours. We each swap out dinner-making days but you can probably convince Ms Markson to let you skip that if you suck at cooking.”

“I can make vegan stuff.” Drumstick said, pulling a pair of shoes from his bag and settling them under his bed, and then pulling out another pair.

“Good. That’s a start.” Kit said. “If Lemony sends you a secret message, you hand it over to us.”

“Hey!”

“No poison in the sugar bowl, we’ve already tried that. You can’t skip school or we get in trouble. We will not sit in detention with you, either. Embarrassing stories are to be kept to a minimum. Anything told in the Secrets Closet is secret.”

“What’s the Secrets Closet?” Drumstick asked, while Ellington finished putting her dresses away and scampered up the ladder to her top bunk.

“There’s a closet behind the pantry,” Kit said, “Which is hard to find, so obviously Theodora doesn’t know about it. Anything we tell each other in there is not to be told to anyone, or we’re legally allowed to kill each other.”

“That’s what happened to the last kid.” Lemony said.

“That’s a joke!” Jacques clarified quickly, as Drumstick dropped his fourth pair of shoes in shock. “He’s joking!”

“Sure I am.”

“Oh! Also, Annie is banned in this house.”

Ellington paused. “Annie what?”

“Annie.” Kit said seriously. “The musical, the 1982 film, the 1999 film, the 2014 film, the comic strip, the stage musical sequel-”

“There’s a sequel?” Drumstick asked.

“There’s only one good song.” Kit said. “Anyway, it got banned because of our dickfuck of a baby brother.”

Lemony sighed. “All I did was point at the TV every time Ms Hannigan came onscreen, turn to Theodora and say ‘that’s you.’”

To their surprise, Ellington laughed a little at that. She opened her duffel bag, digging through it. “Good one, Snicket lad. So, why are you here?”

Kit cocked her head to the side. “Pardon?”

“Foster care.” Ellington said. “Is Theodora your aunt or some shit?”

Drumstick paused. “Um, El- Ellington, I don’t know if that’s- is that rude?”

“Don’t care.” she pulled a bag of coffee out of her duffel. “Why you lot here?”

Kit glanced nervously at Jacques, and he cleared his throat. “Well, um, our- our parents died when we were four and Lemony was a baby, and our Grandpa had us for a while, then he went to jail- long story- and we went to our aunt, then her sibling, and then-”

“A lot of places.” Lemony said, glaring down at his screen. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, doesn’t matter.” Kit nodded. “Cause we stick together. We Snicket siblings look after our own.”

“Oh, good for you.” Ellington said, still digging through her bag. “Drum and I aren’t so lucky. Isn’t that right, Drum?”

“Ellington-”

“We’re together in this case cause we were hiding out in the same coffee shop.” Ellington said. “Me from CPS, him from his bastard dad. CPS found us and they just… shoved him with me, I guess.”

“Ellington, we don’t need to go over this.” Drumstick said shakily. “I don’t like being here either, but we need to make the… the best of it.”

“I’m not making the best of anything.” Ellington said. “I’m not an orphan. My Dad’s coming back for me. Or I’ll find him. But he didn’t abandon me and he’s not dead so I’m only here until he comes back.”

They were silent for a good, long while, the four other kids sharing looks.

Then, quietly, Kit said, “Hey, newbs. You wanna see something cool?”

Ellington sighed, while Drumstick slid his last pair of shoes with the rest and said, “What?”

“Come on down here.” Kit said. Hesitantly, Ellington slid down the ladder, and Lemony sighed and shut his laptop. The children grouped in the center of the room, and then Kit stepped back and shut off the lights.

Up, on the ceiling above them, several lights twinkled, sparkling above them; they’d been impossible to see with the lights on, but now they shone down. Drumstick gasped, and even Ellington’s green eyes widened with shock.

“Glow-in-the-dark paint.” Kit smiled. “All of us made some constellations up there. You can add on, if you want. When you want. Gives us a night light.”

“And it’s pretty.” Jacques added.

Ellington hesitated, and then said, “You guys paint?”

“Only a little.” Kit admitted. “But my friend R is an astronomer, so she helped us design the thing. We still need some more stars, though, if you’re up for it.”

Ellington bit her lip and glanced at the ground. Drumstick looked from her to Kit, and then to Lemony and Jacques.

Kit flicked the lights back on, and then said, “Ellie-girl, why don’t you show us some of your records?”

Ellington didn’t meet her eye, but she did shrug. “Sure.”

“And Drum, tell us why you have so many fucking shoes.”

Drumstick smiled a little. “Shoes are an interest of mine.”

“Oh, like my writing.” Lemony said. “And like Jacques’s murder mystery novels and Kit’s engineering, and Theodora’s hair.”

Ellington smiled, and the Snickets were surprised to see that her smile could have meant anything. “Yeah, meant to ask you. What is up with the hair?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Lemony smiled. Then, he said, “Oh! Kit, you forgot one more rule.”

“Which one?”

Lemony grinned. “The unlocked liquor cabinet under her bed is totally off-limits.”

Drumstick’s face turned as red as his hair, Ellington let out a real, delighted laugh, and Jacques screamed, “Lemony, you’re thirteen!”

#atwq #all the wrong questions #asoue #a series of unfortunate events #lemony snicket #hard knock life fic #mine #my fanfic #hard knock life au

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meremennen · 6 years

Photo

This is going to be a thematical series.

1: Work In Progress Works

Okay, hear me out. Work in progress works are so underappreciated.

And even though I’m not sure if all of these works will be continued, some probably not, but I love them for a reason and they deserve a shout out. They are all honestly so great for various reasons (for plot, for characterisation, for the idea itself, for writing style or for editing, etc.) and I don’t regret any minute of reading them.

The list, sorted by current ratings:

aphelion (modern/ G /space pirates, loosely based on Firefly, multiple POV)

Arrangement of a Lifetime * (modern/ G/ fake/pretend relationship)

Heaven Can’t Wait (canon/ G/ kidfic, fluff and angst)

Hello, Princess (modern/ G/ college/university, slow burn, Maths nerds, humor)

I Know I Don't Deserve It, But Stay With Me A Minute (modern/ M/ 10 Things I Hate About You AU (loosely)

Let’s Go to the Mall! * (modern/ G/ denial of feelings, high school)

mind if i check you out? * (modern/ G/ bellarke library au, rivalry)

The Rest Was History * (modern/ G/ fake dating)

The Will ‘o the Wisps (modern/ G/ fantasy, faes)

This is where you fall, this is when you get up * (modern/ G/ cowboy!Bellamy)

Baby Mine (modern/ M/ Jane the Virgin AU)

Now and Then * (modern/ M/ best friends to lovers, past and present)

The Art of Disappearing * (modern/ M/ fake marriage)

Up In Flames * (canon/ M/ post season 1 AU)

Win a Date with Bellamy Blake (modern/ M/ slow burn, fake dating)

All Is Love (modern/ E/ kid fic, unplanned pregnancy)

Bite Me (canon/ E/ season 1, affectionate insults)

Friends With Benefits (modern/ E/ college/university, friends to lovers, humor)

The Prisoner and The Cure * (modern/ E for gore/zombies)

Weave Me A Myrtle Crown * (modern/ E / firefighter!bellamy, paramedic!clarke)

Happy reading!

I don’t know everyone’s tumblr, or if they have any, so if anyone is actually reading this and you wanna tag them, please do so.

Ratings are indicative and might change.

* – probably won’t be updated, but we can always hope

***************************************************************************

All Is Love (E) by @bisexualbellamyblake (AO3: lightyears )

135k+

Summary: It all begins because Raven declares that she's on a sex ban for three months. Clarke reminds her of this when her life is turned upside down. Raven reminds Clarke later, when everything finds its place again. / Or, Clarke finds out she's pregnant six weeks after Bellamy leaves.

*** S l o w burn. And that moment when they reunite, or when Bellamy finds out about Clarke’s little secret tortured me in ways that hurt a lot. But hey, still breathing ;-) ***

aphelion (G) by @kindclaws (AO3: kindclaws )

45k+

Summary: It's been two years since the spaceship Aphelion mysteriously disappeared, its crew branded by the ARK as traitors to be shot on sight. Jake Griffin was on that ship, and with him, a dangerous secret that could change civilized space forever./ Now, Clarke wants some answers - and revenge, if she can get it. Bellamy wants a bigger ship - specifically, Clarke's. Wells wants to fix the system his father broke. Octavia wants a little fun. Miller wants everyone to stop making poor life choices. Harper wants to kiss the new girl. And Raven? Well, Raven just wants to blow shit up./ The universe won't know what's hit it. (Space pirates AU!)

*** what I love the most about this fic is the multiple POV! It is so rare to have these kinds of stories, and honestly, it gives such a unique feel to it. I am so, sooo grateful for this fic. ***

Arrangement of a Lifetime * (M) @ FFnet: moomolie1709

55k+

Summary: He needed her to pose as his girlfriend, and she needed him to make her unfaithful ex jealous. But what began as a simple transaction between two business partners soon becomes more complicated than either of them could have ever anticipated.

*** without giving too much away, there is a really cute bedsharing scene and another scene with Clarke in a dress that I loved a lot. Sadly, it also ends after a huge cliffhanger, and I really doubt this will ever be finished, but it deserves to be on this list. And like with every other WIP, You NeVER kNOw. Your comment might just be the one that makes the lovely writer to finish it.***

Baby Mine (M) @ AO3: stumblesun

80k+

Summary: A routine doctor's appointment, a mix-up and an artificial insemination...what could go wrong?

*** I haven’t watched Jane the Virgin, but you don’t have to. S l o w burn ***

Bite Me (E) by @notnicorette (AO3: notnicorette)

10k+

Summary: 'Bite me' is a common insult, right? People say it all the time. Except...Clarke ends up screaming it at Bellamy... And, for once...he does take one of her orders.

*** good old season 1 feels!!! And you know, who says it didn’t happen, just because we haven’t seen it on screen ***

Friends With Benefits (E) @ DreamofInception on AO3

60k+

Summary: Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake hate each other. But they like each other naked.

*** Such an excellent humor!!! And heartbreak. ***

Heaven Can’t Wait (G) by @randomly-random-jen (AO3: justanotherjen )

45k+

Summary: With the Apocalypse banging at their door, the Arkadians and what's left of Trikru take refuge in the remains of Alpha Station and hope for the best./ Over 500 souls crammed into a tin can, but there's only one that has Bellamy wrapped around her little fingers.

*** post season 3 canon divergent, it’s so raw and emotional, and I love this Bellamy so, so much!! ***

Hello, Princess (G) @ AO3: moonyredmoon

Summary: Professors and TAs were supposed to teach and help you. They were supposed to appreciate students who took the time to come see them and ask questions. If nothing else, they were supposed to have a clear explanation when it came to questions on grading. Instead, Clarke had even more questions and only one new piece of information… / Bellamy Blake was an asshole.AU with Clarke in college as a pre-med student, and Bellamy her Calculus TA. More characters and tags will be added as they are introduced.

*** SLOWBURN, Maths nerd Bellamy tutoring Maths nerd Clarke is such a unique concept and I love it so much!! ***

Let’s Go to the Mall! * (G) @ AO3: Willaphyx

20k+

Summary: Clarke Griffin was looking forward to a summer of working at her favorite art store in the local mall. That is until she found out who works at the bookstore across the hall: Bellamy Blake, who quickly becomes Clarke's least favorite person. But it would seem like Bellamy doesn't quite feel the same. With the whole summer ahead of them, who knows what could happen?

*** It’s super cute. ***

mind if i check you out? * (G) @ AO3: earthandsky

5k+

Summary: "'Literally, he’s the only clerk to get requests from patrons,' Monty had told Clarke a few days ago, rolling his eyes. 'People come to the desk with all of their stuff and will specifically ask for Bellamy to check them out.' / Raven had grinned. 'I think they’d rather check him out.' / Monty had pulled a face but didn’t disagree. Apparently, Clarke was meeting him today. And he was going to train her. Awesome." / Bellarke Library AU.

*** Just read it. It’s great! ***

Now and Then (G atm, though it’s rated M) by @100yearsofbellarke (AO3: InfiniteBeauty93)

30k+

Summary: Growing up since birth together Bellamy and Clarke have been through the best and worst of times. But when Bellamy gets engaged and Clarke confesses her love to him he rejects her leaving her heartbroken. Now spending a week at her family's vacation house with Bellamy's in preparation to his wedding the past and present collide.

*** well, normally I don’t read anything with e.cho but this story was posted before the dark days, and trust me, it’s good. I’m really loving the alternating timelines!!! ***

I Know I Don't Deserve It, But Stay With Me A Minute (G, possibly turning M) @ AO3: belgardebells

45k+

Summary: Octavia Blake isn't allowed to date until her big brother Bellamy does, so she calls in a favour from her best friend Clarke Griffin. All Clarke has to do is seduce Bellamy, fake date him, and then break things off when Octavia starts going out with her waiter conquest. It's supposed to be quick, easy, and painless. And it is. Until Clarke starts falling for real.

*** this author has multiple WIPs (I recommend them all) and a really unique writing style and humor ***

The Art of Disappearing (M) @ AO3: Jenye

20k+

Summary: The first night they met they witnessed a grisly murder. Now they’re being placed into the Witness Protection Program. Starting life over in Ark, Minnesota was definitely not part of Clarke’s five-year plan. And gaining a wife certainly wasn’t something Bellamy saw himself doing this year.

*** Bellamy and Clarke falls in love in witness protection ***

The Prisoner and The Cure * (E for gore) @ AO3: PaintedGhostOrchid

30k+

Summary: The US has been transformed into a barren, post-apocalyptic wasteland after a viral outbreak leaves society in shambles. But Clarke Griffin is a girl on a mission to her mother's research facility to deliver the only-known cure- if only she can avoid the free-roaming criminals who are determined to kill her, led by one particularly terrifying (and handsome) escaped prisoner who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. / Loads of Bellarke tension, human survival, the occasional zombie (but not much), jealousy, and romance.

*** Bellamy as a grumpy prisoner trying to save his sick sister. And then, there is Clarke. She is special. They are fighting their way through the zombie apocalypse. ***

The Rest Was History * (G) @ AO3: Tate

25k+

Summary: Historian Bellamy Blake needs to impress his potential bosses at ARK Enterprises. He's got everything they're looking for, except the girlfriend that his best friend Raven Reyes assures him will win them over. But that's okay, because Raven's found just the girl. Only, there's one problem. Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin really, really hate each other.

*** ummm, quite a few tropes in this. One of the details I really, really loved is the name of the car and fLUsTeREd Bellamy. ***

The Will ‘o the Wisps (G) @ AO3: DracoTerrae

5k+

Summary: With his kingdom falling to darkness, Jake Griffin barely managed to escape to another world, his young daughter, Clarke in tow. Twenty years later, Clarke wanders a little off the designated trails and stumbles into the very world her father left behind. Now desolate and under the shadow of darkness, Clarke slowly gathers a ragtag group with whom she will fight the powers that brought this world to its knees.

*** it’s very mysterious at the moment, only a few chapters in, but I cannot wait to read more. On hiatus, but I have faith ***

This is where you fall, this is when you get up (G) by @queenofchildren (AO3: queenofchildren )

35k+

Summary: In which Bellamy is a grumpy cowboy, Jake knows a good steak when he eats it, and Clarke makes a decision.

*** COWBOY BELLAMY, WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED? ***

Up In Flames * (M) @ FFnet: lucawindmover

60k+

Summary: AU Post Season 1 finale. They were meant to be used as a new influx of genes for Mount Weather. But Clarke Griffin and her band of survivors would not be going along willingly.

*** The MM made them do it. Sooooo, I wish I could say this story will continue!! Anyway, I just love this one so much, it has to be on this list. ***

Weave Me A Myrtle Crown (E for abuse and sexy times) @ AO3: AJRedfern

75k+

Summary: Clarke's not a woman easily shaken - she has a reputation of being 'logical, level-headed if a little cold-blooded'. And then she gets assigned as the new Paramedic In Charge to Firehouse 82. Amidst the people she's starting to call her friends, is Bellamy Blake: heroic firefighter, exemplary Lieutenant, complete asshole. Normally, this would have been fine - it's not the first time she's had to work with someone she despised. Except dreams keep plaguing her. Dreams that start the day she first met him. Dreams of a different life, a different time, a different world. Dreams of him, of her, of them. Dreams that start to feel like memories. Yeah, her carefully constructed facade isn't going to survive Firehouse 82.

*** Reincarnation (?) AU. I wish I could say this will be updated, but I have doubts. Regardless, the parallel timeline/flashbacks are giving the story an amazing flavour, and the UST is excellent ***

Win a Date with Bellamy Blake (M) by @bittyab18 (AO3: Bittyab18 )

125k+

Summary: Clarke Griffin's best friend enters her in a contest to win a date with Bellamy Blake, famous actor/Hollywood heartthrob/bad boy. Except, Clarke already knows Bellamy, and she's not a fan of him or his movies. Because her life sucks, she wins, and now she's reintroduced to the guy she loved to hate in high school.

*** So much UST, so much angst and so much cuddling. A true s l o w burn. ***

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

I hope you will give it a go and show these writers some love.

***************************************************************************

Coming up next (probably):

Fake dating/Arranged Marriage/Accidental Pregnancy

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fanfic #bellarke fanfic rec #fanfic rec #ff bellarke #meremennensbellarkeficrec #my stuff #Part 1: WIPS #kukkoriqueue

172 notes · View notes

tysonrunningfox · 6 years

Text

Lost Chances

This is a super mean chapter. I just almost cried editing it. I’m so...invested.

And I just couldn’t do this close to Christmas. Don’t expect another update until after, probably, because I do want people to catch up and also, feel free to pillage my inbox with pitchforks because I half feel I deserve it. But here.

Tumblr | AO3

It’s quiet for a few days. Calm almost, except for Bang following Mom around like something bad will happen if he lets her out of his sight. He doesn’t even want to go flying, so I end up walking to cover about ten things for the chief when he opts to stay home to keep an eye on Mom. I kind of get what she’s saying about not being able to live like that for almost a year, but I know better than to say anything about it. It might finally be getting through my thick skull that having the same fight multiple times just for the sake of it never actually changes anything.

Aurelia’s still being frosty and sticking closer to the chief than usual and I’m trying not to let it bug me even though it feels like I’m kicked out of some club. A club I never accepted the invite to, because I was never one to hang out with the chief on purpose. Maybe that’s what changed his mind, if I’d kissed up more he wouldn’t keep waving me to the door to take care of his stuff with that disinterested little head bob.

I end up spending a lot of time with Stoick, which isn’t as awkward as I would have thought because he mostly just likes dragons and getting as covered in mud as is humanly possible. That and we’re both banned from the house for being deemed too loud, except the number of times Mom checks on us makes me sure that it’s more the chief’s idea than hers.

It reminds me of the last time we were all living under the law of the chief’s idea, his whole brilliant marriage plan that didn’t quite backfire. Except this time, Aurelia is inside and I’m not. And everyone’s ok with it to the point where I can’t even try to shut up that little voice in my head that’s constantly reminding me that they’re all hoping for a second chance at a better version.

And then, one morning, I wake up coughing, sitting bolt upright and wheezing against the incredibly pointy elbow jabbing into my chest. It takes me a groggy moment to recognize the brick red of Aurelia’s hair tangled in my blankets and another second to realize she’s sobbing, her face wet against the side of my neck, back heaving.

“Hey, it’s ok,” I mutter, clearing my throat and ignoring the fact that she’s practically choking me as I rub her back. She’s fully dressed and smells like the woods, like she just snuck in. For a moment I’m sure it’s Arvid, that he’s done something, and he may be my half-brother but he’s dead.

Her fingernails dig into the nape of my neck, “it’s Mom.” She barely gets it out between sobs and I sit up more fully, looking around at the quiet room. The fire has died down to coals, and it’s not strange because I’m used to waking up next to a cold hearth, but in the moment I’m sure it’s gone because Mom couldn’t restart it for some reason.

“Is she ok? What happened?” I try to pry my sister’s face away from my shoulder but she refuses, rubbing her snot on my shirt.

“It’s…it’s the baby,” she whispers, shoulders tensing as she pulls away ever so slightly. Right, I made an ass of myself, as always, and now she doesn’t think she can talk to me about it.

Eret not-son of Eret, ruining sibling relationships for sixteen years and counting.

“What happened with the baby?”

She sniffs and presses her face back into my shoulder. It’s not an answer but it’s everything I needed to hear.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

That earns a snort, for some reason, and she pushes soggy hair out of her face and hugs me like she’s not trying to choke me, “you do care. Did care, I mean. You’re right, shit.”

“Of course I care,” I’m suddenly aware of the house around me, the three people breathing in the other rooms, the weight of this all pressing down. “Just because I’m an asshole doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“Could have fooled Mom,” her tone isn’t accusatory, not really, just matter of fact in a way that pierces my chest like a well-aimed Nadder barb. “Sorry, that was too far,” she sniffs, “I’m just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”

I don’t have time to answer, which is probably a good thing because I have no idea what to say, because the bedroom door opens behind us and the chief appears in the doorway, looking gaunt and gray in a way I’ve never seen. He stares at us for a moment before recognition flickers behind glassy eyes and one corner of his mouth quirks up.

Aurelia pulls slowly out of our hug and stands, brushing her skirt off and crossing the room with an even, defiant gait, like it hurts her to do it. She wraps her arms gingerly around his waist and squeezes. I barely hear the murmured, “love you, Dad,” and it doesn’t sound like her when she says it. It occurs to me that she’s saying it for him, not because she wants to or because it’s true, and I feel so impossibly helpless.

What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, chief, I don’t hate you sometimes’? Is lying cool? Is this one of those situations where I can fill the gaps in the conversation with fluffy, sweet lies and no one will call me out on it?

“Love you too,” the chief kisses the top of her head and something stirs in my stomach, remembering Dad carrying me to bed and whispering goodnight in my ear because he didn’t know I could hear him. I feel like an intruder.

I don’t belong anywhere else.

Aurelia turns and walks into the bedroom with an admirable caution, her footfalls even and close together, and the chief looks at me, staring like he’s not sure what he sees.

“Uh…Aurelia told me,” I stand, wishing I’d slept in my shoes so I could bolt out the door. The twin instincts to run and to face him, head held high, wage war in my head and I grind my teeth.

“Yeah, she…Astrid told her first.” He seems to shrink, lips pressed into a thin, pale line.

“Oh.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” he says it so quietly that at first I think I’m imagining it. I don’t think I’ve ever sounded that quiet, that gentle, and for the first time I really see the ghost of a boy who trained a night fury inside of him. “It was too literal. Trying again like that.”

I open my mouth to excuse myself but nothing comes out, and I don’t remember the last time I felt so silent.

“I guess there are just some things you can’t get back. Some things don’t get second chances.”

I know what to say then, I know the lie to tell, the one that fixes something, that bridges the gap between me and the sadness I’m so compelled to brush away. You don’t need a second chance, you have me.

But then it strikes me how true that is, that he has me, like a possession. He saw me and wanted me and took me, married my mom, split apart what I used to call my family. I want to be furious but I’m too tired, too overwhelmed, too weighed down by the unfairness and stupidity in the world to get myself riled up. I wonder if this is what it feels like to grow up, if being an adult is nothing more than a million little decisions to be quiet when you want to be upset.

“I—” I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to think. “I’m…sorry.”

I wonder if he looked this devastated about me once upon a time.

“Me too.”

I think of him reading to Stoick, of him staring after Aurelia with what I always took to be stern negligence but was probably always more misunderstanding than malice. I think of him hugging me by a forest fire, with my burned feet and singed hair. I think of him thwarting my plans at every turn, always talking about how dangerous they are, how I don’t know what I’m doing.

Maybe…maybe all this Hel has been nothing more than a misguided asshole’s horrible attempt at rebuilding a family.

“It sounds like you mean it.”

“I don’t,” he’s crying now, tears dotting those too familiar freckles together as he runs his hand through his hair, silver sticking up at odd angles. “Gods, I’m not sorry at all, I did what I did and I’m here and this should have been better—it should have been different, you shouldn’t hate me so much, you and my daughter shouldn’t band together against me and—and—and I should have been able to build something instead of tearing everything apart.” He sobs and it sounds like Aurelia, their pain has the same cadence and it reverberates in my chest like a Thunderdrum bellow.

“Hey, it’s—I don’t hate you.” I’m an awful liar, I didn’t used to be, but somehow I am now. I flinch from my own insincere words as the chief flops down into a chair, elbows on the table, head cradled in his hands.

“I deserve this. I—I fucked everything up, a thousand times. In a row. Just again and again and again. But your mother doesn’t...” His back is shaking, trembling really, and I feel anchored to the floor like my feet must be made of lead. I take a faltering step towards him, looking towards the closed bedroom door, thinking of how strong Aurelia was to walk in there, chin held high. As mad as we’ve been at each other lately, I can’t think of how to repay her for that.

It takes a million years to cross the ten feet of room between us. I set my hand on his shoulder, lightly, because I’m scared to touch him, scared of what it means. If I comfort him, does ‘Dad’ follow? Do I start thinking he’s right? Does trying to absorb this indescribable pain build from here until I don’t recognize myself anymore?

Or is it worse than that? Will I run away from it eventually? Will I recognize myself perfectly because I’ll be just like him?

“Umm…it’s not ok, I’m not going to say it’s ok, but…” I don’t know what spirit possesses me to keep talking, but I stare at the back of my hand, jarring against the soft wool of the chief’s green tunic. “I don’t know what to say, I was never the one that gave pep talks. That was always Mom or Ingrid, I was the one who needed them. Ingrid always knew how to make me feel better, she can make any situation seem like a fight I can win if I just push a little harder but…but this isn’t like that. I know it’s not.” Gods, I wish Ingrid were here. I miss her. It’s the only reason I don’t leave sometimes, I don’t want anyone missing me the way that I miss Ingrid.

The bedroom door opens behind us and I jerk away, shoving both my hands into my pockets. I expect to see Aurelia alone, but Mom is with her, eyes wide, face composed.

“Eret, can you pick your clothes up off the floor? I swear to Thor, you’re going to be chief before you learn to pick up your own socks.” Mom snaps at me, and she sounds so much like her old self, the one I haven’t seen since I was oblivious, that I jump to attention, scrambling to pick up my mess. “This house is too stuffy, don’t you think? I know it’s just spring, but I think we could open some windows. It’s not that cold outside.”

“Mom,” Aurelia’s voice is fragile as she rests a hand on Mom’s elbow. “Maybe you should—”

“If I gave you some money would you run down to the market for me?” Mom cuts across her suggestion, striding across the room and rummaging through the chief’s coin purse. “We need…a lot. We need everything.” She pauses and I can see her façade splitting at the seams, sad but not unsurprised. Beaten but not lying down. Guilty in a way she never should be.

“Hey, Mom, why don’t you go lay down—” Aurelia looks at me like I might have the answer as Mom starts organizing a cabinet, tossing things haphazardly onto the floor behind her.

I spot my axe out of the corner of my eye, her old axe, and it’s desperate and hopeful when I grab it and walk over to her, grabbing her hand and tucking it around the handle. She swallows and turns towards me, taking it in both hands.

“You’re right. That’s better, isn’t it? We need firewood.”

“Yeah, the pile is looking a little low.”

She stalks outside, axe over her shoulder and when I look back inside, Aurelia and the chief are staring at me, twin pairs of green eyes fixed on my face. That crushing weight of responsibility is back with all of its charming heft and I backpedal, tripping on an uneven floorboard and stumbling back upright.

“I’m going for a flight.” I’m not sure that they heard me but I leave anyway, trying to ignore the rhythmic hack of Mom’s axe, pounding along with my heartbeat.

00000

I end up at Fuse’s shed, eventually, after a few lazy laps around the island, fighting the thought of going further. It doesn’t seem relaxing anymore what with the dragons and Arvid and the fact that the quiet would just amplify the thoughts bouncing around my head. But Fuse’s shed is quiet and the stool in the corner isn’t comfortable enough to relax. She barely lifts her head from whatever she’s doing when I step inside and sit down and that’s better already. I can pout without making it worse for anyone else.

I’m not even sure what I’m pouting about, honestly, I wasn’t excited like everyone else.

“What are you building?”

“Testing a boring charge combination.” She looks away from whatever she’s doing to exhale, like the force of her breath could disturb it.

“For the chief or for our plan.”

“Our plan.”

“Have you talked to Smitelout?”

“No, I haven’t needed anything.” She carefully sets a clay lid onto what she built before spackling the seam with what smells like pine sap but is darker, mixed with something I don’t recognize.

“I still can’t believe I told her. Do you think she’ll tell anyone?”

“We’ll know if she does.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

She doesn’t know and it was comforting at first but now it feels suffocating. It’s not mine to tell and I don’t want to talk about it, necessarily, I just…Mom needed someone to hand her an axe. I need someone to tell me that axing something wouldn’t do anything even though I already know.

And I never had a problem going against the chief before, staring at the parts in front of me—the forbidden parts, the defiant parts—I can’t help but feel strange. Almost guilty. I think of how his face crumpled when he told me, how he looked so much like me in that moment that hurting him was suddenly akin to smacking my own head against a wall for sport.

“What’s wrong?” Fuse looks up from her project, a few heaps of jewel toned powders laid out in some cryptic organization on an old scrap of seal skin. She’s methodical where I’m stagnant, a smoking stone bowl dispersing her day’s work into the air. It smells awful, like tar and rotten eggs, and I have no problem believing it would explode flawlessly.

“Nothing.” It’s not something I should talk about, is it? It’s private and it occurs to me that I haven’t ever been in on a family secret before. Ha.

It’s a passing of the torch, I’m no longer the big whopping family secret, some concept of a dead little sibling of mine is.

My eyes itch. I don’t know why.

Fuse quirks half an eyebrow, the short fuzz of regrowth catching the sunlight streaming through the doorway and glowing pink like her hair, “you’re an awful liar.”

“Thanks. I try.”

“You aren’t being as much of a nuisance as normal.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“Silently? What’s going on?” She walks towards me and the hair on my arms stands up.

“Nope. I’m good. You just—you know? I might actually call it a night, take Bang on a flight or something just—are you ever just antsy? Like there’s a hundred fireworms wriggling under your skin. Yep. I’m just going to go uh—“ I stand up and trip over my own foot, internally cursing my clumsiness and where it came from. Maybe that’s why I didn’t leave, that would have made me feel more like the chief, it would have brought the memory of his unreachable sadness even closer than it already is. That thought shakes that hard little ball of anxiety around in my stomach and I feel nauseous and Thor’s beard, it’s a good thing I never had to keep family secrets, I would have been floundering in Daddy issues by the age of three.

Fuse’s grip is stronger than it should be as she catches me by my upper arm even though I’m not stumbling anymore. She brushes some soot off of my shoulder but just makes it worse, rubbing it into the weave of my new shirt. My clothes still feel wrong, crisp and un-stretched in the shoulders, constantly reminding me that Arvid didn’t wear them first.

“You know I’m a good listener.” She reiterates like she has so many times the past few months.

“That’s what scares me,” I swallow, “I might just tell you everything.”

“You could start with why you aren’t working on your master plan to help the dragons, because that’s all I’m really asking about.”

“Gods, you make it sound so easy.”

“You talk more than anyone I know, it is easy for you.”

“Careful,” I snort, fumbling back for my stool and plopping down onto it, rubbing sooty hands over my face. “You might convince me to talk your ear off and then I’d never stop.”

“You always stop.” She shrugs, one shoulder, almost sad in that Fuse way that makes me suspect she’s reading my mind. “Eventually, at least.”

She sits back down at her station, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she carefully scoops an emerald green powder back into a small, clay jar with a tight-fitting lid.

“What if this is all about me?” It’s a rhetorical question and I don’t really expect her to answer, but when she doesn’t, I’m suddenly compelled to fill the silence. I don’t like silence, it used to be because I was afraid I’d disappear into my siblings’ larger shadows, but now I know too much about what exists in the silence between people. Between me and…this morning, I understand that whole people can disappear into the quiet. Suddenly I’m angry that the chief and Mom didn’t tell anyone, that they kept it secret just like they did to me all those years. Like we couldn’t exist until we were a long lost miracle. “What if I’m not trying to help the dragons at all? What if I’m just…screaming into a void and hoping that the chief hears me. That he knows I’m angry. But he knows and he’s—I want him to be evil, I want him to be pathetic, but he’s just…what if I’m defying him just for the sake of defying him?”

“So you aren’t worried about the dragons?” She hisses, sucking on her finger when it glances across a candle flame.

“You ok?”

“Because those dragons look sick, Eret. You didn’t make that up. Hel, one died and washed up here, that’s never happened before that I know of—”

“If it were about the dragons, wouldn’t I have argued more? Wouldn’t I have fought harder for help?” I sigh, “the chief is the one who knows the most, he’s the one I should be campaigning to. I shouldn’t be playing matchmaker for my half siblings in the forge in the middle of the night. I would be…I don’t know. Rallying. I’m supposed to be chief someday, people should listen to me. Instead I’m just in here playing teenage defiance.”

“What happened between you and the chief?” She asks, turning towards me, eyes narrowed, strand of long hair escaping her braid and falling in front of her face. I get the impression she’s reading me, like a water-logged scroll, trying to see what I said before the elements got to me.

“Nothing, alright? It’s just…don’t I have to grow up sometime?”

“You tried with the chief, he didn’t listen.”

“He admitted it’s a problem. I should have waited—”

“Growing up isn’t synonymous with laying down.”

“F—“ For my mom it was. I barely catch the words on the way out of my mouth, turning them into a cough and staring at my hands.

I can’t stop thinking of her face this morning, sad but unsurprised, like the only response she had left was ‘not again’. I can’t help but wonder how much she’s lost, can’t help but think of her loving the chief and then loving my dad and then waffling, each decision hurting one of them, but never as much as it hurt her.

She has it worse than I do, and I’m in here whining and defying and making everything harder for everyone while they’re going through something I don’t want to understand. I should be back there helping, but I don’t know how to help, I don’t know how to handle everyone grieving for something I never understood them wanting.

Am I not good enough? Is it because I don’t call the chief dad and let him ruffle my hair? I feel impossibly more replaced, like I have to try harder and be better just to prove that it wasn’t a loss, not really. They didn’t need to try again, they’ve got me and I’m…

I’m both of them, all at once, they don’t need another. They don’t need to be so shattered.

I’ll shatter for them and they can put me back together and then maybe I’ll be what they want.

I sniff, wipe an errant tear away from my cheek, and look up at Fuse. She’s not looking at me, almost like she’s giving me privacy to fall apart, like I’m a bomb and she wants me on the other side of a barrier. I like the way she deals with emotions, clinical, sure, calm. She’s the calmest person I’ve ever met and it makes me feel safe and inferior all at once.

“I think you’re doing this for the dragons,” she says quietly, her tone assured and steady, “I think your methods might be for you, but I think that’s ok. When you don’t do anything constructive, you end up fighting your brother and screaming at the chief and if you need a few things to blow up as an outlet, well hey,” she smiles at me, “I get that.”

It’s too quiet and I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Maybe a sigh, maybe half a breathless laugh.

“I think I should head home.” I should go try and help. Even though I don’t know what to do or how to do it. She’s right, my methods are for me and I don’t want to be someone who runs and hides so now I have to prove that to myself.

“Alright,” she nods, “I’m close to something here. I’ll let you know if it’s anything.”

I nod and stand up, “yeah, sure, I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess. Or something. Around, I’ll see you around.”

She nods at me and I keep that quiet reassurance in my head as long as I can as I fly back up the hill to the chief’s house. I think about knocking again, honestly, especially after I see Mom’s axe planted so deep into half a tree that I wonder if she stopped because she couldn’t get it out. I did that a lot as a kid, honestly, I was way better at swinging than I was at getting it back and I don’t think I’ve changed much. I just didn’t know I got that from Mom. She was always so in control, of us, of what she said and did. Of everything.

Until the chief came back into the picture and threw her back into chaos, I guess.

I take one more deep breath before pushing the door open.

Mom is cooking and she’d look completely normal if it weren’t for the splinters stuck to her skirt and the hair that’s out of her braid and stuck to her neck, like she was sweating from all the tree murdering. Aurelia is at the table, stack of books in front of her, on her knees in her chair to see the book at the top of the stack. She looks more frazzled than Mom does, face pale when she looks up and stares at me for a second before shaking her head.

“Oh, hi.”

I know that voice. That’s the voice of someone who just mistook me for the chief. I reach up and pull the tie out of my hair, shaking it out with my hand like that’ll make the difference more obvious.

“Hey.”

“We could have used your help earlier,” Mom stands up, “Aurelia nearly killed herself bringing the entire library home.” She walks across the room, affectionately touching the top of Aurelia’s head and looking at me like she dares me to bring it up.

“Sorry,” I cough, trying to think of anything else to say. “I uh…needed some air?”

“Mom, this says that dandelion greens—” Aurelia starts in an urgent half-whisper, like she’s not quite sure she wants me to hear and Mom cuts her off.

“I told Hiccup it was stuffy in here. We’re Vikings, a spring cross-breeze has never hurt any of us.” She goes back to the fireplace, fussing with whatever she has on the grate inside of it. “Are you hungry?”

“Always,” I blurt and she shakes her head like it’s just a normal day and that’s just a normal joke that wasn’t funny the first time, let alone the thousandth. “That smells good.” The second part is a lie because I can’t smell anything but fire and Aurelia’s anxious energy as she flips through pages. I glance at her book and see drawings that aren’t Berkian and the words aren’t Norse. She’s mouthing slowly to herself, face flushed with frustration.

“Cold baths,” she mutters, looking up at Mom, “maybe it was the time of year?”

“Put the book away and eat something,” Mom half snaps, dropping a plate of stew in front of her and putting one in my hands. She sits back down on the hearth and starts eating out of the pot, idly brushing splinters off of her lap. “That’s good. Yeah, Hiccup is never on cooking duty again, there’s a reason he’s so skinny.”

“Maybe you weren’t eating enough.” Aurelia says louder, pushing the plate pointedly away. “Maybe that’s it.”

“You skipped breakfast.” Mom looks at the plate, “eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” Aurelia crosses her arms and I shake my head at her as subtly as I can, because even though I’ve never seen Mom quite like this, I can’t imagine it’s a good idea to challenge her like that.

“You need to eat something.”

“Not until I figure this out,” Aurelia’s voice cracks and she slumps back down, sitting on her heels. She doesn’t wipe the tear that spills out of the corner of her eye, doesn’t even try to hide it, and Mom’s expression freezes on her face.

“I’m going to go get Stoick,” she stands up, leaving her fork on the hearth next to the pot of stew. “You can hold down the fort while I’m gone, right Eret?”

“Uh…” I look at Aurelia and swallow hard, like I can physically stuff my own confused sadness so deep inside that it won’t spill out accidentally. “Yeah. Sure.”

“And check on Hiccup, would you?” She says it like an afterthought, slipping on her boots and frowning when she pulls a splinter out of one. “I don’t think I’ve ever known him to sleep this long at all, let alone in the middle of the day.” Her laugh is hollow and numb and another tear slips down Aurelia’s cheek.

“Sure.” I feel like it’s somehow the same word I just said, like it floated around the unusually dead air in the room and came back to me, only to fall out under nearly identical, numb circumstances.

“I’ll be back,” she opens the door and leaves like it’s a normal day and Aurelia sobs the second the door is closed.

“Hey,” I set down my food, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug that’s almost intentionally smothering, like I can squeeze this out of her faster. “It’s ok—”

“She needs to talk about it!” She snaps, wiping her face on my shirt and leaning into the hug. “We need to figure out why for when…” she sighs, “in case…”

“She’s…” I want to say something comforting but all I have is the truth and I shrug, “she’s kind of old for it, Aurelia, it was crazy in the first place—”

“Just because you didn’t think of something doesn’t make it crazy.” She shoves me off, leaning back over her book and slowly saying a word in a language I don’t recognize. “Fuck. What’s that mean? Thor-dammit.” She slams the book shut and wipes her eyes again. “I can do this. I can do this.”

“What are you trying to do?”

“Read.” She sits, letting her legs swing under the chair, and pulls the giant book into her lap. “Of course we don’t have anything in Norse about this but that doesn’t matter. I can do this.”

“Aurelia,” I put my hand on her shoulder and she shrugs it off, “look at me.”

“I know the answer is in here, I just need to figure it out—”

“I know you’re upset, but that doesn’t mean you need to magically learn another language—”

“I know this!” She jabs her finger at the page, a whole wave of tears falling down her cheeks at once. “It’s my Mom’s language, I spoke it. We spoke it. She taught it to me and…and it’s gone. Parts of it are gone and I need it—”

“Hey,” I bend down to hug her again, ignoring the weak swat of her hand on my forearm. “Mom will see a healer, they’ll know what happened—”

“She already did,” she goes back to tracing over the same strange word again and again with her fingertip. “They said it just happens. Things don’t just happen. If things happen it’s because something makes them happen and someone lets them happen. What the fuck is this word? I know it, I know I know it.”

I look down at my arm, the pale, freckled skin against the dark green wool of her shirt. There’s the scar that I got falling off of Bang when I was eleven, there’s the dirt under my fingernails from cleaning my saddle. I just happened. I am a mistake, an accident, an unlikely collision of things that weren’t supposed to happen and if they happened they weren’t supposed to work.

And now I’m an isolated event. I always was, of course, but it’s different now after lightning failed to strike twice.

“It’s a fish!” She shouts, “it’s a kind of fish. We didn’t have it here, my mom was always looking for it...” She mutters a few more words in a strange, clunky accent, “and that doesn’t help us.”

“I don’t know how this would help anything.”

“Of course you don’t,” she shrugs my arm off and it plucks at that nagging feeling of being replaced by something that died before it was ever alive.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mom needs to talk about it, I know you don’t seem to think she needs to, but you’re wrong. And she can’t talk about it when everyone is just acting like it’s normal, it can’t be something she has to bring up—”

“I think you need to talk about it.” I gesture at the closed bedroom door, “he probably needs to talk about it. I…” I don’t have anything new to say about it. It feels like I don’t have a single thought in my head that hasn’t been said a hundred times. I feel empty and full of other people’s thoughts at the same time and I can’t figure out who would care if I said that out loud.

“Mom should talk.”

“Well, you can’t make her,” I let my hands fall against my legs with a louder slap than I expect.

She glares at me and sniffs, wiping her nose on the end of her too long sleeve. She looks younger than she has lately, puffy eyes and red cheeks reminding me of the sullen girl I moved in with, the one I just wanted to laugh so that someone would. I get the odd feeling that I know her less now than I did then and then I was just guessing.

We aren’t feeling the same thing. Not even close. We aren’t in the same book, let alone on the same page. Our books are in different languages.

Today’s the most I’ve ever heard her talk about her mom and I almost want to ask, to try and steer this back into something I understand, but I don’t want her to say the things in my head. I don’t want to hear it out loud, that I’m always going to be a reminder of something they all lost.

“I’m going to check on the chief.”

“Yeah.” She looks back at her book, “good luck getting him to talk. Since you know what he needs so well.”

I pause for a second, deciding against answering that and picking another teary fight before Mom gets back, and cross the room to open the bedroom door. It creaks, and a bar of light falls across a lump of blankets that I assume is the chief. I stand there for a minute and he doesn’t say anything so I clear my throat, hoping it’s loud enough to wake him.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” He mumbles, barely loud enough to hear through the covers and I sigh. I almost ask him to get up for Mom, because she’d like a little normalcy and that doesn’t seem like too much to ask.

But maybe I’m the one who wants normalcy and my normal isn’t anyone else’s anymore.

“Ok. Yeah. Seems likely.” I shut the door and resist the urge to bash it against my head a few times on the way.

#eret iii #festerverse #tw miscarriage #aurelia haddock #fuse thorston #hiccstrid

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shancebigbang · 7 years

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Welcome To The Shance Big Bang

The Shance Big Bang is a fandom event dedicated to celebrating the relationship between Shiro and Lance from Voltron Legendary Defender!

Frequently Asked Questions

What is a big bang? A Big Bang is a challenge focused on the collaboration between writers and artists where writers create fic and artists create art to go with those fics. It is a time when writers and artists come together and collaborate for a relatively short period of time, and at the end, all the works are posted in a big celebration of the artists and writers of the fandom! You’ve probably seen a few others around the fandom including the Voltron Big Bang, the Sheith Big Bang, and the Shiro Big Bang! Who’s running this event? Our current moderators are Mod O (Ze-roren) & Mod A (InterdictedKai). Depending how big this event gets, we may take on extra moderators! How do I sign up? Writer sign-ups will be open from April 28 - May 21. Artist sign-ups will be open from April 28 - May 28. Links to the google docs for sign-ups will be posted at http://shancebigbang.tumblr.com/signups. Beta reader & pinch hitter sign-ups will be included in the artist & writer sign-up forms but if for some reason you would like to ONLY sign up as a beta reader or pinch hitter, send us an ask! Can I sign up to make both art and fic? Certainly! The more the merrier! :) What is the minimum word count & art requirement? More on this below but the minimum word count is 8,000 words and the minimum art requirement is two finished pieces! Is there any specific theme? Shance! All that matters is that shance is the main ship. Fics can be of any rating, genre, or theme. We do require that you abide by the mandatory tags list. Is NSFW content okay? Yes! However, you can only create NSFW content for this event if you are over the age of 18. It doesn’t matter if your country has a lower age of consent. It is not a matter of whether an individual is mature for their age. It’s about the legality of the issue. This is not up for discussion. Attempting to submit NSFW content if you are under the age of 18 will result in a ban from this event as well as any future events hosted by the mods. If your work contains NSFW content, this content must be placed under a cut for your work to be reblogged to this blog. Are there any restrictions? Is (blank) content allowed? The Shance Big Bang is open to every theme, genre, & rating. We have decided to allow for it because as long as it is well-tagged and clearly states that it contains such material, no one will happen upon it accidentally, and no one will be forced to create or view it. Please read and abide by the mandatory tags list. Unfortunately, no matter how much we’d like to please everyone, there’s nothing we can do to accommodate everyone. We highly encourage all characters to be depicted as 18 or older if they engage in sexual contact but will allow characters depicted as 16 or older. If you’re unsure if something’s okay, feel free to ask! What we ARE prohibiting is: We will not allow bashing any other ships or characters. The intention of the bang is to create for a ship, not hate on any other. Glorification and normalization of sexism, homophobia, transphobia, racism, xenophobia, and any other discrimination with regard to sexuality, gender, race, religion, etc are also not allowed. Nor will we allow NSFW work involving characters depicted as below age 16. If your work contains NSFW content, this content must be placed under a cut for your work to be reblogged to this blog.

WRITERS

What is the minimum word count? Minimum word count is 8,000 words. There is no upper limit. You are allowed to collaborate or co-author with other writers, but for each collaborator, you need an additional 5,000 words minimum. (A story with two writers needs 13k, a story with three writers needs 18k, etc.) Can I use a WIP I’ve already started? You can! As long as it hasn’t been posted anywhere. WIP fics that have been posted already are NOT eligible. Are sequels allowed? Yes! Sequels of your own work are fine! Just include a link to the original fic in your author’s notes. Sequels to works by other authors must be discussed between you and that author and you must obtain their permission Can I write more than one fic? Of course! But each fic must meet the 8k minimum. Can I post previews on twitter/tumblr/etc? Sure! Feel free! But please don’t post anything too-revealing before your post date. Try to keep excerpts limited to 500 words or less. Do I need a beta? Yes, please get your fics read over by at least one other person prior to posting. If you need a beta reader, we’ll have a list of available betas you can contact. What happens if my fic doesn’t get claimed? We hope this won’t happen! But in the event of a fic not getting claimed, we will assign it to an artist who either hasn’t claimed a fic or who has claimed a fic of a similar genre/theme. My word count falls just under the minimum, can I still submit? Please try to reach the minimum word count of 8k. The goal of the minimum is to ensure that artists have enough content to create art from. That said, this word count can be slightly flexible. No one’s going to chew out your 7700 word piece, don’t worry!

ARTISTS

What kind of art is accepted? Traditional or digital art. Artwork should be completed to the best of your ability. If traditional, please scan or take a high-quality photo of your art. CamScanner is an app on both iOS & Android that can help you with this! How many pieces do I need to create? Artists are required to create at least two fully completed pieces for the fic they’re working with. They’re welcome to also create a banner or header for the fic but these do not count towards the two-piece minimum. How big should my piece be? All art created for this project should be at least 500px x 500px. The exception is if you’re making a banner or header for the fic. Banners and headers do not count towards the two-piece minimum. Can I post previews/WIPs on twitter/tumblr/etc? Sure! Feel free! But please don’t post anything too-revealing before your post date. Try to keep previews cropped!

EVERYONE

I’m a beginner Artist/Writer and don’t think I’m very talented, or not as talented as others, should I still sign up? YES! We’d love to have you! All artists and writers are welcome here! This isn’t about whether you have a lot of followers or if you’re “good”, this is about celebrating shance, Voltron: Legendary Defender, and the wonderful people of this fandom! How do claims & pairing work? Writers have until June 18th to submit their summary, an excerpt of their fic, & any applicable warnings. These summaries will be posted anonymously (ID’d by number). Artists will then choose their top 5-10 fic choices based on the summaries. Claims are first come, first serve. Pairings will be emailed after each artist has made their claims. If, for some unfortunate reason, all your choices were claimed previously, we will ask you to choose one that hasn’t been claimed yet. On June 28 we will be contacting all artists & writers to let them know who they’ll be working with! What happens if there aren’t enough artists/writers to have equal pairings? As we won’t be capping signups, we may end up with an uneven number of artists and writers. If we have more writers than we have artists (unlikely), then artists (if they would like to) will be given the option to create for two fics. If we have more artists than writers, then some fics will just end up with two artists. What happens if I lose contact with my writer/artist? Please let us know as soon as possible and we will try to help contact them. If they don’t respond, artists will be assigned to another fic and writers will be assigned another artist or pinch-hitter. What if I need to drop out? We understand if things come up and you won’t be able to reach the deadline. Please let us (and your partner) know as soon as possible so that you can either get an extension or your partner can get reassigned. How will the check-ins work? We will be emailing all participants a link to a google form to fill out for each check-in. The aim of the check-ins is to make sure that pairings are still in contact, progress is being made, you’re still participating, word count, etc. Nothing too serious, but just to make sure we know what’s going on. How will posting work? Posting will begin on October 6 & go through October 15. All writer/artist pairs will be given a date to post so that each fic/art can get attention rather than posting all at once. Writers: post your works in their entirety to AO3 on the post date. For multi-chapter fics you may take up to ONE week from your post date to post all chapters (so if your post date is the 6th, your work must be completely posted by the 13th). Make a tumblr post (link to the art in your post) so that it can be reblogged here. Artists: please post your art on tumblr and link to the fic in your description, preferably with your writer’s fic summary. If your art is NSFW, please post a preview image only with the full piece either under a cut or linked to a separate post. Artists & Writers: Please tag your posts with “#shancebigbang” (no spaces) as one of the first five tags so that we can find and reblog them. You must also use any applicable tags from the mandatory tags list. Anonymity: If you’re not comfortable posting your piece on your tumblr account, we will be opening our submissions box during the posting period and are willing to post your work directly to the Shance Big Bang account. Other Sites: If you would like to post your art/fic on twitter too, please do so! Tag with #shancebigbang and we will reblog it to the Shance Big Bang twitter. Any other questions? Feel free to leave an ask here, tweet @shancebigbang on twitter, or email shancebigbang (at) gmail (dot) com if you have any other questions or concerns! We will update this FAQ routinely to avoid spamming the blog, so check it often!

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