#like.... i miss writing so many of my other canons from ages ago

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Home. - Fluffy Ending (not canon) || cbf!Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rating: M Words: 2.8K Pairing: cbf!Simonxafab!reader / teen!Simonxteen!Reader Summary: Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other… CW: none. Tags: you/your pronouns, reconnecting with family, wedding guests, second chance romance, time skip. a/n: not proofread. I didn't like the way I wrote this ending but I figured I should share it either way. It's too fluffy/forced for my taste. The actual alt ending will be better. ALSO: Was listening to Chemical by Post Malone on repeat while writing this. Idk if you wanna do that too while reading...

[MASTERLIST]

You're twenty-eight, he's twenty-nine.

You swore to yourself you wouldn’t step a foot back in Manc, not even if cows flew!

You swore to yourself you wouldn’t keep in contact with anyone, not even if someone died!

(Which your father did. Thank fuck.)

You broke those promises so many times.

You were unable to keep away, though you tried…

It’s your own fault, really.

You stalk your old friends and family on Facebook sometimes.

Other times you check the local news.

Others you check the obituary and marriage sections on the news.

You beat yourself over it every time. Even though seeing the lack of changes through your cyberstalking and the news made you feel immense relief, you still ended up closing the pages on your browser with more aggression than you should and sulking in your bed.

And yet, you still go and do it again a few weeks later.

And then another few weeks later.

It’s pathetic, really, but maybe it provides you some comfort. Maybe helps you sleep at night.

You should’ve figured out that someone would have made you eventually. 

I mean, naming your blank Facebook profile after the one mean neighbor you had, who called the police on you and your mates once for being too loud while hanging out in the street, and died years ago? Yeah, they’d make you eventually.

Luckily for you, it was Olly who did.

All things considered, it could’ve gone much worse.

Maybe… Maybe you should follow his advice.

It’s been a decade.

Your mum deserves at least a letter to let her know you’re still alive, that you’re healthy, happy, and safe. She’s owed that much…

-

It was very strange to be inside your childhood home after almost eleven years.

Four days ago, your mum had openly sobbed as she threw her arms around you, and you had found yourself sobbed with her, both of you falling to your knees at the front door.

She held your face so gingerly and kissed your forehead so many times, her face severely more aged than the last time you had seen her.

The letter you had sent her 8 months before was 23 pages long, a bulk so large you sent them unfolded and stapled together inside a manila envelope rather than folded neatly into a standard one, and had detailed everything you figured she should learn about your life. 

Where you went.

What you did.

Who you did it with.

How you felt.

What you learned.

How you changed.

You apologized for running away, for worrying her.

You assured her you loved her and missed her.

You asked, tentatively, if she could find a way to let you be a bit more present.

You reiterated you wanted to remain living where you were in Scotland… but that you could allow yourself to be her daughter again if she so wanted it.

You know she cried reading it. Hell, you cried writing it…

You didn’t expect anything, you didn’t want to cause her any more grief by coming barrelling back into her life. She’s your mother, you didn’t want to manipulate her. You weren’t surprised when she didn’t answer for a few weeks…

But then her letter came. A simple half-a-page response that said, in no uncertain terms, that she missed you, that you were always welcome in her home and her heart, and she wanted to have her little girl back.

It all culminated in today.

Adjusting your red gown with one hand, you walk up the aisle, the other holding your 10-month-old daughter who’s clad in a pale yellow tulle dress. She’s kept flush to your chest, her chubby legs wrapped around your hip.

You and your mum find a spot near the middle and sit down, though you scoot yourself as far on the pew as you can, making sure that you can step off to the side just in case Evelyn starts fussing. Though you doubt she will. 

The ceremony is being held in the middle of the afternoon and she has been calm and sleepy this whole time, softly dozing off in your arms, her little face nuzzling to your neck, since it’s close to her nap time.

You sit Evie down on your lap and place a hand on the back of her head while you and your mum speak softly, still waiting for the wedding ceremony to start.

You still can’t believe that you’re here…

Wythenshawe still looks as crappy as ever, you still know the streets like the back of your hand, though a lot of it has changed, shops went out and into business, and people moved away.

You met up with your old mates at your local just a couple of nights ago, and after a lot of tears and some drinking, you gossiped all night about your lives and everyone else’s.

In a way, it feels like you never left…

You were so afraid that they would hold a grudge at you for leaving, for not staying in touch… But they never did. You were welcomed with open arms…

It’s… nice.

The ceremony doesn’t take long to start. 

You nearly cry at the sight of Emily in her wedding dress, having deemed her a close friend for the better time of your formative years. And Olly, as emotionally detached as he tries to pretend himself to be, cries at the sight of his bride.

The ceremony is long and a bit tedious, as most weddings tend to be, but you’re still happy to be there… Happy to be back.

It’s nearly 45 minutes into the ceremony when Evie starts fussing a bit. You’re quick to take the nappy bag onto your shoulder and rush out of the church while shooting some apologetic looks to the guests around.

Once outside, you find shade under a tree and begin to bounce Evie a bit, knowing she isn’t fussing because of her diaper or hunger, but rather from the fact she’s teething.

One hand balances the infant, the other sets down the nappy bag on a low wall and you begin rummaging for the teething ring toy amidst the pockets. When you find it, you give it to her, which she gladly takes, though it doesn’t do much for her pain, only quieting her down a bit by allowing her to bite all over it.

“Shhh… it’s alright, pet…” You whisper to her as you kiss her smooth forehead and nuzzle your nose against the crown of her head.

You keep softly swaying and bouncing with her in your hip, moving about, side to side, while she drools all over the toy, her hands, and your dress as she softly headbutts your chest while chewing.

You’re lucky your dress is a dark enough shade of red and made from a fabric as forgiving as chiffon, so that the wetness will dry quickly and discreetly.

It’s in the midst of your pacing and bouncing the infant on your hip that you spot him.

His pale jawline peppered with a well-trimmed stubble, his blonde hair cut short and hidden under the beige beret, his strong build wrapped in full military dress…

You almost didn’t recognize him…

You leave your bag right where it is and beeline for him before you can stop yourself. 

And he makes no motion to move from his resting spot, leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette, and looking right at you like you’re sure he has been doing for the past 15 minutes or so (you wouldn’t put it past him).

“Fuckin’ hell…” You hear yourself saying as you come to stand in front of Simon.

He tosses his cigarette down on the floor and puts it out with his brown boot, blowing the smoke away from your daughter on your hip.

“That how you greet people now?” He retorts while looking down at you through his fluttering eyelashes. 

His voice is so much deeper, rough and strong than it used to be… You don’t know how to respond at first, your mouth has gone dry and your brain has blue-screened.

You’ve had dreams about this before… Nightmares too.

You’ve imagined that one day you’d cross paths with him on the street and you’d stumble all over yourself. That he’d ask you how you’ve been or what you’ve done with your life and you’d have nothing to show for it…

You thought you’ve healed from your past, but here comes Simon Riley to indirectly tell you “HA! Think again, dumbass!”.

“You surprised me is all.” You end up saying, your voice carrying a maturity and a strength you didn’t know it could. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“Didn’t think I would either. Got lucky this coincided with my leave.” He remarks. “Could say the same to you, though.” He adds.

You can’t tell if he meant to offend with that comment. Olly had told you through Facebook that he told Simon about you vanishing off the face of the Earth and that Simon didn’t take it well. You knew he, rightfully so, expected you to stay gone.

“Got back in touch with Olly and the rest of my family.” You remark simply and shrug.

He keeps looking at you with those brown eyes of his, with a certain coldness behind you that forcefully reminds you that this is not the same person you used to know. The boy he was and the man he is are forcefully different people.

“Cute kid.” He adds after a beat of silence as his eyes flit to your daughter who’s still very much in her own world with her teething toy.

“Thanks.” You reply.

This feels awkward. You’re finally standing face to face (more like face-to-chest, goddamn is the man tall) after a whole ten years. Are you even friends? No. But are you acquaintances? Also no. And you have too much of a history to be strangers. 

So what are you?

“What’s her name?” He asks as he looks back at you.

“Evie.” You answer. “Evelyn.” You correct yourself before adding. “Evie for short.”

“Hm.” He remarks unemotionally. His eyes flit over you up and down, taking in… everything about you.

You are a confident person, you’d say. You feel good in your own skin. You like your reflection when you see yourself in the mirror. And you feel like a million bucks in this dress, which wraps around your body beautifully, the fabric making you look delicate and soft.

But under his scrutinizing gaze, you feel anything but confident.

So, you take a breath and return the same scrutinizing gaze, up and down, taking in every inch of him, your eyes just as strong and confident as his own. He notices, because of course he does, and he puffs out his chest and raises his chin, to allow you to keep looking at him, showing himself off a bit proudly.

He’s wearing a khaki formal uniform, or full dress as you remember it being called, and although it's been ten years, you still remember some things about all the stuff you investigated about the British Army, so you could keep up with him, impress him with your knowledge.

A brown waist belt with a sash across the right soldier means he’s an Officer… The buttons are gold and shaped like winged parachutes, and he wears a beret instead of a cap. A beige beret to be exact, which means he’s no longer in the Parachute Regiments, who wear maroon ones. There’s a cap badge on the beret and the Excalibur on it tells you one thing: he’s special forces. You don’t remember which one… but you know he’s something big, bad, and important.

“Special Forces.” You muse out loud, showing off what you noticed.

His eyebrows raise, impressed by you, and then he nods. “Somethin’ like that.” He adds.

“Done well for yourself, then.” You add and he nods again and blinks while smirking, as if trying to humbly pat himself on the back for it.

“She have a dad?” Simon asks while shooting Evelyn a look. The words escape his mouth quicker than he wanted and sound a lot more judgemental than he meant for them to.

The way your eyebrows raised at him, the same way they used to when he’d say something bloody stupid as a teen, told him you weren’t pleased and that he had put his foot in his mouth.

“Sorry.” He says though it’s clear he doesn’t mean it. “Came out wrong.” He tells you.

You might have gone ten years apart but you knew Simon like the back of your hand at one point… And you knew sometimes he’d say things aloud when he meant to keep them as thoughts. It’s clearly that’s a habit he still has.

“I know what you meant.” You reply bluntly as you fix your grip on the infant, swiveling her a bit to sit on your other side.

“What’s the answer then? She got a dad?” He probes as he dips his head a bit to the side, his arms hanging by his side as he looks you up and down.

“Aye.” You end up replying, the Scottish word slipping past your lips then you meant for it to. You still speak English with a Manc accent, just like him, but there are little quirks like this one that you’ve adopted after living in Dundee for ten years.

Simon’s eyebrows cock up as well at the sound of Scottish word, and you can tell he finds it odd, but he doesn’t comment. “Where’s he, then?” He retorts. “No ring on your finger.” He adds.

Your eyes drift down to your left hand which is wrapped around your daughter now, the splayed fingers showing a distinct lack of a wedding ring. He sounds just as judgemental. But you don’t let it ruffle your feathers.

“Separated.” You reply maturely. “No ring on yours.” You say and nod toward his own left hand which also lacks a ring.

“Married to the job.” He replies and you can’t help but let out a snort of a chuckle, which makes him chuckle dryly too.

“‘f course you are.” You add in reply.

“Could’ve been married to you.” He retorts with the same casualty of someone saying ‘Nice weather today’.

You scoff and shake your head. “Really?” You add.

“Ye.” He adds. “Had a ring and everythin’.” He quips. “Then Olly told me you ran off into the night.”

You scoff again, mostly out of disbelief, and look away from him, your eyes flittering over the courtyard in front of the church.

The ceremony should be finishing soon enough.

“Dodged a bullet then.” You remark dryly, smiling a bit in amusement.

“You or me?” He retorts and you find your eyes drifting upwards to him again.

For a moment you just both stare at each other in silence… 

Your eyes are locked in the same way they used to whenever the two of you were about to throw themselves at one another as teens… 

Then, he breaks into a grin, and so do you, the both of you looking away for a moment. His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. You’re both amused at the cheekiness of your comment.

“How long are you stayin'?” He asks you once you both glance at each other again.

“Goin’ home on the 26th.” You tell him. “How long’ve you got leave for?” 

“‘Till the 27th.” He replies and dips his head to the side a bit.

This is definitely crazy.

You secretly wonder if you’ve gone mad.

A decade has gone by… But there’s no mistaking the electricity in the air.

That light buzzing of goosebumps that prickle at your skin, making the hair in the back of your neck stand… Like lightning is about to strike…

“Take me out to dinner.” You demand abruptly and narrow your eyes at him.

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek again in amusement. “Are you askin’ me on a date?” He retorts.

“No. I’m tellin’ you.” You add, watching how his brown eyes swiftly light ablaze with a certain fire you never expected to see after so many years apart.

“Tomorrow?” He suggests.

“Tomorrow.” You add.

“I’ll pick you up at 9.” He adds.

You know damn well that 9 P.M. is too damn late for dinner… But you also know that in reality, your ‘dinner’ will be grabbing Nando’s and cheap beer, and eating in the backseat of his car in that one side road you always used to go to… talking into the night… and probably definitely fucking each other’s brains out.

“Like the good ol’ days.” You remark.

“Mhm.” He adds.

Then, the church doors open and the guests come pouring out, forcing the two of you to separate.

But you can still see the smirk on his lips from afar as you walk off to grab your nappy bag, find your mum, and get ready for the rice toss.

[MASTERLIST]

taglist: @iite-cool , @spicyspicyliving

#home cbf!simon fic #cod fanfic #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #childhood best friends to lovers #cbf #cbf!simon #teenage love #masterlist #time skip #second chance romance

[hollandsfavbabe]

Where Do We Go Now

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

synopsis: in which the death of y/n's father leaves her determined to bring him back and her boyfriend peter determined to save her

warnings: endgame aftermath, death, parental loss, isolation, suicide attempt (but magical?), it gets better - I promise

word count: 7.1k

masterlist

a/n: Hey guys. This is going to be a bit longer than my usual notes, but I feel like I should explain why I've been gone for so long and why this story is a lot sadder than my usual ones. My community has been riddled with tragedy recently as we've lost a lot of people to suicide this past year, some of which have been as young as middle school age. One of my friends died by suicide a couple months ago. I can't express to you guys how hard it's been trying to deal with the pain and the guilt his death has caused me and my loved ones. So many days have passed where I wish I could've been a better friend for him while he was here. It hurts more knowing that other people are hurting too. Writing this was the best way for me to cope for many reasons. I wanted to write about how I'm feeling and honor my friend in some way even if it's through a silly little fanfiction. I know I'm late, but I also wanted to honor one of my favorite characters, Tony Stark as he canonically died this past October. That being said, if you are struggling please, I implore you, talk to someone. There are so many people on this planet who would be so torn without you. My dms are always a safe space if you need anything at all <3

Also I'd like to thank Gracie Abrams for her music that I had on repeat the entire time I was writing this. I hope you like it!

“I am Iron Man.”

The words replayed in your head, over and over like a broken record with no one to turn it to a new tune. That’s exactly how you felt. So alone in your grief that even if miraculously every wish you'd ever made in the whole of your existence had been granted, it still wouldn’t be enough to make you happy again. To make you feel anything besides the constant regret and incessant grief that anchored you down as you wasted away in your bed.

It had been exactly a week since the passing of the great Tony Stark. Everyone else in the compound had mourned their coworker, riddled by a somewhat lesser version of your sadness for only a few days after his death. It’s not as if their grief had been washed away as if it never stained their cheeks with tears or weighed down their hearts with sorrow, but it eased much quicker than yours and before long they could continue their duties. Everything was so much harder for you because Tony hadn’t just been a coworker. He was your father.

You relieved every memory you had of him like bittersweet torture. You remembered when he held you as a little girl, wiping up a bloodied knee. When he discovered you had powers and helped you control them. Later on when he banned you from joining in on the Avenger’s Civil War and afterwards when he thanked you for sneaking in to help anyway. You could almost feel his comforting embrace as if it was only yesterday that he was assuring you before a failed battle against the mad Titan Thanos, the same one that left you dusted and missing your father’s last five years on Earth. And finally, of course, you remember his last moments all too well. It played out before you like the tragic ending of a stage play. 

“Let me do it,” you shouted over the sound of war cries and carnage that surrounded you on the packed battlefield. “I can take it!”

You were almost certain that your power, your immeasurable magic, could handle the debilitating strength of the Infinity Stones making you the most reasonable choice for snapping Thanos and his army out of existence, but your father refused to risk losing his eldest.

“No,” he breathed, the metal plate shielding his chest rising and falling from the heat of the action. There was only one way to succeed, only one way to put a stop to the destruction of the universe. It had to be him. “I won’t risk losing you, not while you’re still so young. You have so much life ahead of you.”

“Not without you!” you cried, a tear streaming from your eye.

There wasn’t much time for your conversation as the world was moments away from being wiped of its human history, but despite the odds your father pulled you into a tight hug, as if he knew it would be the last. You both did.

“You are the strongest person I’ve ever known and I’m so proud of what you’ve become already.” he smiled when you finally pulled apart.

“I need you dad,” you sobbed, still reluctant to let him leave you. With the threat of his death, suddenly Thanos’ defeat didn’t matter anymore. Not nearly as much as having your father by your side. “I’m not ready.”

Your dad looked down on you with the saddest of smiles, but if any part of him was upset about his decision, he made no other hint toward it. He just held you close for as long as possible and comforted you in the way that you could always count on him for. In the way, it hit you, that you could never count on him for again. But yet, in the face of death, he cradled you close and spoke in his signature fatherly tone: assertive yet on the edge of softness.

“No one’s ever ready -,” he answered truthfully. “- but I know you can handle it. You always do.”

You looked up at him as he finally pulled away and headed towards the purple giant, but not before turning to you for one final declaration.

“I love you, junior, to the edge and back again.”

And then he was gone. You never got the chance to say it back.

Yours was the last name he uttered before his heart stopped beating and the light on his suit went out. By then Pepper had already said her goodbyes and you both were huddled close to his body, weeping as the other Avengers knelt around you in honor of your father. Peter was hunched behind you, one hand on your shoulder while the other worked to wipe away his own tears. Oh Peter, you had your father to thank for him.

It was Tony who was credited with setting you up with your long term boyfriend, Peter Parker, even if it was a complete accident. You two had gotten acquainted on a fateful plane ride to Germany and eventually ended up together after many failed attempts at confessing your feelings. There was something about him that had you smitten with him from your first encounter, your liking only strengthened when you learned that your father approved. He’d been with you through thick and thin and even now, Peter was the only person who could even remotely share your pain besides Pepper. Tony was like his father too.

He’d taken care of you ever since the incident. Brought you food and water, helped you dress in your black attire for the funeral, laid with you in your bed each night to calm you whenever you awoke in a nightmarish terror. He showed his love for you prevailing over his grief in the most selfless of ways and yet all you had managed to do since you father’s funeral was stand to use the restroom every once in a while. It piled on more weight that your poor soul could already take. You were nothing, but a miserable burden now.

The door to your room opened with squealing hinges as Peter stepped in, returning from school where he had spent the morning reuniting with your shared friends and finding out when the official return date was. You were supposed to join him, but instead you hadn’t moved an inch since he left. It wasn’t as if you wanted to waste the entire day in your lonely sheets again. You yearned for everything to go back to how it was; when Peter was happy and you could share it with him. When your father used to smile upon the two teens he didn’t mean to bring together. When your father was alive.

“Hey,” he said, softly as if not to startle you from your endless torturous pondering. He set something down on your dresser, a small stack of papers he must have gathered from the school, and removed his fall coat before sauntering over to you. The bed creaked and shifted under his weight as he took a seat next to you. “Good news, we don’t have to go back until the next semester so we get a break until January. Ned was asking about you. He wants to know how you’re doing.”

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes red-rimmed from all of your crying and your lips cracked and dry.

“What did you tell him?” you croaked, your voice hoarse from under use. There was little to talk about and no one else to talk to whenever Peter wasn’t around. Pepper had visited you once, but with Morgan to look after, she couldn’t spare much time for her late husband’s grieving daughter. You’d seen Happy a couple times as well, but he needed his own time to recover and reflect on his past time with his best friend.

Peter was gentle as he tucked some of the hair strands snot cemented to your jaw behind your ear and cupped your cheek in his palm. He was cold from the autumn chill outside, but his hand ignited the same soothing heat that his touch always brought forth.

“I said you were recovering,” he answered truthfully. “And that it’s different for everyone. And no matter how long it takes, I’m here for you every step of the way.”

The ghost of a smile graced your lips and had it not felt like it stopped beating after losing your father, your heart may have fluttered in its cavity in your chest.

“Thanks Peter,” you curled closer to him in the most sincere of ways. “But I’m afraid it’s going to be a while before I can get up to see Ned again. Give him my best.”

“Take your time. I’m sure he understands.” Peter assured before pulling off his flannel and laying down beside you to wrap you in his arms, allowing you to tuck your face in his chest. As unhappy as you were, all the swirling emotions of suffering were always suppressed by the sound of Peter’s heart and the feel of his body around yours. You stayed like that for a while, holding each other before Peter broke the silence as it neared time for your midday meal.

“I think you should come with me today,” Peter suggested, rising to run his daily lunch retrieval before running a loving hand through your hair. You couldn’t understand how he hadn’t gotten sick of you yet. You hadn’t been able to wash in over a week. “It’s not good for you to stay here all day long. You need to start moving.”

His voice was full of worry, though he wasn’t overbearing. He wanted the best for you, it’s all he ever wanted really.

“I don’t know Peter, I don’t think I can.” you sighed as tears started to fill your eyes again. How could anyone stand to be around you when you were being so pathetic. You wished there was a way to erase your pain, anything to bring you to your normal self again.

“It's okay baby,” Peter hugged you into a tight embrace, kissing your tears as they fell in slow salty streams. “I know it hurts, I feel it too. But I read somewhere that the best thing to do is keep a consistent routine. Maybe you should start today. Come get lunch with me.”

You wanted to agree, but there was no part of you that could move from the weight of your grief. It pressed you down, gravity multiplied by the mass of your sadness as it consumed you. It felt as if only a miracle could save you now.

“I’m so sorry.” you stated with remorse, but Peter made no move to share his disappointment if he had any at all. Instead he leaned down from his seated position and placed his lips on your forehead, a gesture as if to say that all was alright.

“Please don’t cry, y/n. It’s okay.” he assured you before standing to leave and get you something that you figured you probably wouldn’t even eat very much of.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, turning the handle of your door to leave before looking back at you sprawled on your bed. Suddenly, as if he had recalled the cure to the rainiest of days, he expression shifted to one of great excitement as he stopped back into your room.

“I almost forgot,” he began. “Doctor Strange was here earlier. He wanted me to tell you he’s offering some meditation sessions for you if you’re interested. He said they’d be good for your powers and that they might help you feel better if you want to think about it. He’s free at 8 tomorrow.”

You nearly perked up at the sound of the man’s name, picking up your head to cast a last longing glance at Peter as he waited for a parting word.

“Thanks,” you managed. “I’ll let you know.”

And off Peter went to get you both something to eat.

You weren’t sure if he knew how dangerous it was for you to be left with your thoughts, how the mention of the magic doctor sprouted a myriad of mystical ideas all aimed at the same goal that would erase your eternal lonesome aching. How to bring your father back. By the time Peter returned with his hands full of two homemade sandwiches and more sweets than the two of you could ever finish in one sitting, your mind had been made up and you were ready to set the plan in motion.

The following evening was your first time out of the confines of your rooms for days. Peter had helped you greatly with all the tasks you did not have the mental power to do all on your own. He had brushed your hair and made your bed and before you left in one of the less expensive cars held on Avenger’s campus, he sent you off adorned with one of his favorite sweatshirts, a peck on the forehead and enough I love you’s to last more than a lifetime.

You pulled the sleeve of Peter’s sweatshirt over your palm as you drove off, using the cloth to wipe away fresh tears that had fallen after you left your boyfriend’s loving gaze. You’d always been an overthinker, but your bad habits crept up on you worse in your unbreakable stage of sadness. Especially in your father’s favorite car.

You didn’t understand why he hadn’t left you already. Maybe he would. Peter had offered to join you at Strange’s, but after you insisted you had to go alone, he made plans to go help his Aunt May figure out their apartment situation as the pair had been inadvertently kicked out after being gone for so many years. You’d almost forgotten he used to split his nights between the compound and his own bedroom. Recently he’d only stay with you.

He promised to be back before dinner so that the two of you could keep up your progress, but an unsolicited voice within you convinced you that he wouldn’t want to return. You weren’t good enough for him anymore, not like you used to be. Your plan was better for the both of you and as you pulled up to the familiar building on Bleecker Street, all the pieces started to fall into place.

You stepped up to the door, raising your fist to knock only for the door to crack open by itself as if to invite you in. You waited for the familiar sternness of Doctor Strange’s voice to greet you once you were past the stone floored foyer, but only wisps of the autumn breeze caught your ear. 

“Strange?” you called, your voice still not stable enough to be louder than a whispery dialogue. You were met with no response. It was just like you had planned. The wizard wasn’t home.

You felt a strong tug towards the room of your desires, the forbidden library. It was as if fate was leading you or some other force from above, another sign that you were meant to do it.

Your steps were more sure than they had been in days as you made your way to the self, passing any magical fire walls with the sheer unfiltered strength of your powers. Strange once told you that they were guided by your emotion, the quintessential essence of every magic holder even to people like you and Wanda Maximoff who were outside of his world protecting wizard cult. It was easier than it should have been, like slicing paper with a katana, you broke each enchantment until all that was left was the cool leather cover of the book you were looking for. The book with every answer you needed inside its ancient yellowing pages, but you only needed the spell that would revive your father. Locating it near the middle of the book, your tore out the page and turned back to your car, leaving the Sanctum with the same unhurried pace you had entered it with. There was no stopping you now.

Peter was only an half an hour late for your agreed meet up time when he arrived at the campus. He expected you’d be in your room as per usual and as he made his way to your door, the excitement of getting to hold you and talk about your first day out of the campus since the funeral built up in his chest. He wasn’t sure if any accomplishment in the world could make him as proud as he was of you. With two brown paper bags of groceries in his hand, he couldn’t wait to shower you in the affection that you deserved with all of your favorite snacks, enough to share of course.

“Y/n,” he smiled, using his webbing to open your door handle only to find, much to his disappointment, that you were nowhere to be found.

He checked all over campus, leaving the bags by your bed. No one had seen you since you’d left and the spot where the car you’d taken was still empty, the normally pristine concrete covered in fallen crisp maroon leaves. It didn’t make any sense. Where could you possibly have gone?

“Y/n!” he called, circling the perimeter of the campus looking for you. There was still no sign of your reappearance. “Y/n- oh. Hi Ms. Maximoff.” Peter forced a strained smile as he nearly bumped into the woman.

“Peter, we’ve been over this,” Wanda answered, her voice calm. “You can call me Wanda.”

Like you, the witch hadn’t been doing the best in recent days as she had lost something just as valuable as a father: her partner. While she occasionally had days where the ground would’ve been lucky to feel the grace of her step, her superhero duties had kept her from spending each day hidden from society. She had a different way of coping, but like others, she seemed to start getting back into routine again.

“Right, sorry Wanda.” Peter apologized.

“What are you doing out here?” inquired the witch in her native Sokovian accent, always intuitive. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s y/n. I can’t find her anywhere and we agreed to meet back here nearly - an hour ago!” Peter pulled up his coat sleeve to check the time on his watch, the face of which bore a picture of him and your father from only a few months before the snap. It had been a birthday gift, one of his favorites in fact, though it couldn't top what you had given him the same year: a lego set and your first kiss.

“I didn’t know that she got out of bed. That’s a big step!” 

“Yes it is and we were going to celebrate tonight, but she hasn’t come back yet which is really not like her.” worried Peter.

“Where did she go?”

“Strange’s. He was going to give her a meditation lesson for her powers.”

Confused, Wanda's eyebrow furrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Doesn’t she know how to use them already?”

“Yes, but he thought it would help her manage her grief. Working out is a pretty common method, but she hates going to the gym so he figured some meditation would be better for her and -“

“Wait, hold on. Did she go to him this morning?”

“Yes and she was supposed to be back around noon, but it’s nearly six and she’s still gone.” Peter explained.

“Peter!” Wanda chided. She couldn't believe he could make such a grave mistake.

“What?”

“Strange hasn’t been at the Sanctum all day!”

“What?! Where is he?”

“Do I look like a wizard to you?" the witch gestured to her casual leggings and cardigan pairing that drastically differed from Strange's usual eccentric costumes. "How should I know?”

As if summoned by the topic of conversation, a figure appeared in the distant grass, hovering over the blades until he was close enough to be able to walk. His cape that flowed in the breeze like a blood red stream with a mind of its own was a dead give away. Doctor Strange had indeed arrived in the flesh.

“Parker,” he greeted, though he did not smile. “Is Ms. Stark ready for our lesson?”

Peter’s eyes went wide as he realized his mistake.

“Oh no.” he muttered, shaking his head in defeat. He was met with confusion from the wizard.

“No?” Strange repeated. “We agreed upon 8 didn't we? I know I'm a little early, but I assumed she wouldn't be busy. Didn’t you let her know I was coming?”

“Yes,” Peter confirmed. “I told her to be ready and then I sent her off to your place at 8… am.”

“What?!” Strange exclaimed as he summoned a portal to appear leading directly to his found home on Bleecker Street. He stepped through the fiery ring, a silent invitation for the others to follow as he hurried passed your car, up the steps, and into the door which did not part of him the same way it had earlier. Inside he was met with the most frightful of discovers accompanied by the looming feeling of doom as the situation became clear.

The Sanctum, unguarded with his absence, lay littered with books that had fallen from their homes on his shelf’s yet one stood out from all the others. It laid on the floor open with its pages to the ground while every other book was shut. Levitating it with the simple flick of his wrist, a horrifying sight awaited Strange as he turned it over. One of the pages in the sacred book was missing.

“Do you know how serious this is?!” Strange exclaimed and although Peter at first took it as a barbed criticism aimed directly at him, he was able to distinguish Strange’s tone from when he was reprimanding. This was a separate kind of worry, the sort of tone that he had used heavily on the fated spaceship you three had been stuck in until you landed on Titan, Thanos’ home world, nearly five years ago. Treachery was afoot and if your powers were involved, the whole fabric of your current reality could change.

“Which one did she take?” Wanda pointed to the book, clearly noticing the giant tear in its center.

Strange’s voice answered, heavy with concern. “The revival spell.”

“You don’t think she knows, do you? She can’t possibly know how to conjure it.��� asked Wanda, the same concern for their future written all over her face.

“That’s exactly what I think.” Strange confirmed.

“What?” Peter asked. “What are you guys talking about?”

“There are many types of magic, Parker, and the Sanctum, the building where you sent your girlfriend, is full of all of them, good and bad alike. Every spell comes with a price, the bigger the spell, the bigger the price and the spell she took comes with one of the biggest prices there is to pay.”

“Think about it, Peter,” Wanda paled. “What does y/n want most in the world right now?”

It hit Peter harder than fresh fallen hail. You were going to try to bring your father back.

“We have to find her. Now.”

Strange tried to use his sling ring to appear wherever you were, but in your grief, the extent of your powers had grown massively. Intentionally or not, you managed to prevent even the most powerful of wizards from using his Sling Ring to access your location.

“She's blocked me out.” Strange frowned. “We’re going to have to track her on foot.”

“She can’t be far,” Peter agreed. “She always takes the shortest path whenever she wants something.” It was one of the many things he loved about you: your ability to turn any taxing task into something much simpler. You were one of the cleverest people he knew. He just hoped it didn’t work in your favor this time.

It was Wanda who had the idea of tracking your magic. She led them to the nearest withering woodland area, where trees with bare branches and dying leaves sprawled endlessly. It was the perfect place to perform dark magic, away from the unyielding eyes of society. The trio didn’t hesitate to run in.

The further they got, the closer you felt especially to Peter despite the fact that he was the only one without his own source of magic. If he lost you tonight, he feared he’d never feel any sort of magic ever again.

They were only half an acre in when Wanda and Strange called out in anguish, the witch falling to her knees while Strange stayed standing, pounding the air with his fist as his trying to break through an invisible barrier though it was to no avail. Whatever was holding him back, it wasn’t fading anytime soon.

“Keep going, Parker!” he shouted, urging Peter forward. “You’re the only one who can stop her. The spell will only allow that which she loves.”

“How do I do it?” Peter shouted. “How do I stop the spell?”

“The page,” Wanda replied, quicker than Strange could as his reply was easy for her to access. “You have to tear it apart.”

Without wasting a second more, Peter sprung back towards where he could feel you, running without fatigue as his superhuman endurance supplied him with plenty of energy.

It was only a minute later that he caught his first sign of you. There was a break in the tree line out of which a bright amber glow poured like an incandescent warning. It was a dramatic contrast from the normal comforting emerald greens of your magic, but it was you nonetheless and Peter didn’t stop until he was so close he had to shade his eyes from the light.

If it weren’t for the dark nature of what you were doing, Peter would’ve considered it one of the most beautiful events he’d ever seen take place. He wasn’t sure if the circle of trees that surrounded you had been a natural formation or one you made for the sake of the spell, but he was sure the way they seemed to bend to your will, despite the hard wood of their birch trunks, had to be because of your power. In the center of it all was you and the page you had stolen atop a pile of purple and golden leaves. You stood before it, eyes closed as you whispered some sort of incantation. Your powers spread above you in orange flickering flames as you outstretched your arms and summoned what looked like the beginnings of a portal, though it was hard to peer through like a bride covered in a veil of night black.

Peter shouted your name, screaming for you to stop, but you didn’t so much as flinch as the portal grew. You couldn’t hear him over the force of your will. He could start to feel what Wanda and Strange were trapped behind. There was some sort of invisible wall that threatened to push him back from you, but he couldn’t be defeated. He had to stop you. Step by step, he got closer and closer to you, watching in horror as your body was lifted from the ground and floated in midair. A new energy started weeping through the fabric that covered your chest, soft and white like a sheer glittering fabric. It drifted towards the portal and as Peter neared you he could make out the outline of a face forming from it in the black center of it. It started to take shape, growing a neck and a body and becoming more concrete than a fragmented part of your energy. He became more unmistakable as the color grew back into his face. Tony Stark, in the flesh. Peter hurried towards the page.

You opened your eyes to gaze into the face of your father, tears flowing down your face partially from the exhaustion of bringing him back and from being able to see him again.

You tried to say something, tell him how much you had missed him, but you were left rendered without a voice. Your words came out as mouthed nonsense, though it seemed he had regained his voice.

“Y/n,” he uttered, though it seemed more like a warning than a greeting after being torn from you for so long.

You mouthed something you knew he’d understand. I love you too, dad.

Some other force called your name, but you ignored it. You couldn’t focus on anything else, but the father you had lost regaining life right in front of you. With every part that he gained, you felt a part of your fade. It wasn’t painful, more numbing than anything like the final dose to end all your sadness. You couldn’t help but relish in it. You were bringing back one of the greatest men to ever live.

You were so distracted, you missed the web that landed on the page below you and pulled it away.

“Y/n,” your dad said again, nearly having enough of one of his legs to step out of the portal when suddenly, the inky blackness swallowed him whole again and dissolved in the forest light, taking back the only thing you ever wanted.

“NO!” you cried as your voice returned to you and you fell back down to the dry grass and dead leaves, crumpled on the forest floor as all of the magic you had summoned faded away save for the glittering cloud that returned to your chest with such force it made you cough. You had failed.

“Y/n!” someone called and you shuddered away from their hand on your shoulder as loud sobs erupted from you. 

“Leave me!” you begged. “Just leave!” Peter refused to leave your side, tossing behind him the page he had shredded into tiny scraps of paper as he knelt beside you, careful not to touch you again. “Why did you have to do that? Why did you take him from me?”

“You were going to die! I couldn’t let you di-“

“I WANTED TO DIE!”

Peter froze as you whimpered, the truth spreading above the both of you in the cold air like storm clouds as you cried to him.

“I want him back. Everyone wants him back. No one cares about his depressed daughter and I don’t want to hurt anymore, Peter.” you paused to take a deep breath. “It- it hurts so much.” you could barely get the words out as you were choked by your sobs. “It hurts knowing I could’ve saved him. It hurts knowing it should’ve been me that snapped those stupid stones. And I don’t want to live with that anymore. I had to try to bring him back for the world. It needs him more than it needs me.”

You brought a hand to your face, wiping away some of your tears, though it was no use as more came pouring out.

“I need you.” uttered Peter, looking into your glossy eyes. The sight of your tears and the echo of your screams couldn’t deter him from you. You can’t be repelled from the ones that you love.

“But you miss him, don’t you,” you argued as hot tears coated your face. “You want him back too.”

Peter nodded in agreement.

“I think about him everyday. Our moments together. Like this one time he saved me from drowning in a lake. Or-“ Peter grinned. “- remember when he caught us making out that one time before we told him we were together. He was so mad.” Peter smiled to himself, looking fondly on the memory until he began again.

“I miss him so much and it makes me so sad that I'll never see him again. But I wouldn’t trade you for him. I wouldn't trade you for anyone. You’re worth more to me than anyone else in the universe.”

Your sobs slowed yet the tears did not cease as they still cascaded down your face.

“It hurts me so much.” you restated.

Peter opened his arms. “May I?” he asked. You nodded and before you knew it, you were engulfed by a warmth unlike any other as Peter hugged you tight enough to make sure you wouldn’t try to leave him again.

“I know you do,” he related. "And I wish I could take it away. I wish I could just bag all your pain and throw it all away. But it doesn't work like that. It's going to hurt. It's going to be painful, so much so that you won't move from bed for days and days. You haven't." 

"But I feel like everyone else has already moved on. Why can't I?" you shivered.

"No one else was as close to him as you. Everyone else lost a friend. You lost a father. There's a big difference. You can't expect yourself to move on from it. That's not healthy. It's just like I said, I'm here for you no matter how long it takes. You have to take your time with it, don’t rush the process." Peter pressed the lightest of kisses to one of your dampened cheeks.

"I just don't know what to do."

"Breathe."

As silly as it sounded in its simplicity you did as he instructed and inhaled deeply, allowing the air to coat your lungs that hadn’t been exposed to so much fresh air in a week. As you exhaled, you let out another sob in his arms, but somehow it felt better than all the others. You were not rid of your pain by any means and sadness still corroded your core, but for the first time in so long, you didn’t feel so hopeless. Peter placed another gentle kiss on your cheek, encouraging you as you took several more slow breaths and quiet cries until you found the strength to speak again.

“Was it like this for you when your parents died?” you wondered aloud as you pulled away from Peter to look into his chocolate brown eyes that you almost forgot you loved so much, yet not so far that he couldn't keep his arms around your frame that was still bearing his sweatshirt. You hadn’t spoken much about them before and while you weren’t sure where the question had arisen from, it felt like the right thing to ask.

“I was so young when they passed, sometimes I feel like they were never mine to begin with,” he admitted. “I took a couple days off school when it happened, but I don’t remember crying all that much. It’s tragic and sometimes it makes me sad that they’re gone, but I’m glad that it does. It’s a reminder that they were there for me in the first place, that I knew them enough to miss them. The grief is proof that I loved them while they were here.”

You were both silent for a moment as you thought about his words in relation to your situation. All your pain was put into perspective. Everything you had been through since he died, all the days you wasted away in bed, it was all the proof that you had loved him so much when he was alive and that you were still carrying the love you had left for him. You missed your father so much you were willing to die to get him back and for a moment, you almost did.

You parted from Peter’s arms to stand though you still grasped onto his hands as you weren’t strong enough to be upright on your own. You closed your eyes again and listened to the sound of the forest, the swaying of the leaves that still clung to their branches, the faint twittering of birds, and the calm of the sky that was oddly cloudless for autumn. The sound of your name falling from your father’s reformed lips was still faint in the air and for a moment you felt as though you were with him again.

You remembered when he taught you how to ride a bike one evening when you were only four. You remembered the day he pulled you from public school and started teaching you at home. You remembered the look of shock on his face when you showed him your powers for the first time and even more, you remember his pride when you completed your first mission with the Avengers (that he'd approved ahead of time to avoid any more Germany -like surprises). He wasn’t there, but at the same time he was everywhere. And you missed him, but at the same time the absence he left in your life felt less empty.

The tears came out in slow smooth streams, flowing down in slow trickles as you finally sat back down. You didn’t say anything and neither did Peter, but you knew he could feel what you felt. He could feel your father too and minutes slipped by as you sat and cried together.

There was a sudden rustling in the distance and soon enough, Doctor Strange and Wanda had arrived at the scene, no longer held back by invisible barriers. They rushed to you bringing flooding guilt through your system as you began to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m so sorry.”

Strange opened his mouth to speak, but he had nothing to say. You could tell by his expression that he was disappointed, but there was more to it. He had empathy.

It was Wanda that leaned down to place a friendly hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s get you home.”

The months following were some of the hardest of your life. Every battle you faced was uphill, but you no longer felt like you were fighting alone. You started going out again, first to visit Pepper and your half sister Morgan who lived in their cabin home. Peter joined you of course, but he played with Morgan for the most part while you and Pepper talked. You cried with her, but you laughed a lot too. She shared with you so many of her own memories, times when your father didn't know what to get you for your birthday, when he had managed to mess up cooking dinner in the strangest of ways, and when he’d accidentally burned your favorite stuffed animal in the drying machine all of which Pepper had to remedy. Though she hadn’t raised you, she was the mother you never had and through her stories you learned that your father had been just as good raising Morgan with her as he had been with you.

You hung out with Ned and MJ again shortly after that. While Peter had suggested a brief check-in at a cafe so you could go home quickly to rest, you surprised him with a much more time consuming idea: laser tag. The four of you had the best time targeting each other, you winning more rounds than any of the others. You ended the day with smoothies, talking as you drank and making plans for the next time you would all see each other. MJ made you promise you would text her if you ever needed anything and Ned gave you a whole plate of his Lola’s ensaymadas, your favorite dish of hers.

Finally, though he was locked up in his house and avoiding humanity, you visited Happy. Peter offered to join you like all the other times, but you assured him it would be best if he stayed home, promising you would return later. Happy was in a similar state of dismay to you when you saw him and while he was able to care for himself and continue with his personal routine, you could tell he was hurting.

You didn't say much when you first entered his apartment, but there was comfort within the silence. You sat with him on his sofa and watched whatever mind numbing program he had turned on to distract his thoughts until you had both worked up an appetite for lunch. It was there, in the middle of a random Burger King in Queens over a plate of cheeseburgers that you both broke down. You told him what you had nearly done, trusting him with the sensitive information as he was almost a second father to you. You took your time telling him the story of how you had nearly died to bring back your father.

Happy cried as you did and when you were finished, he told you how much you meant to him. He traded your story for one from your father after he returned from Afghanistan where he had famously been kidnapped.

"You could tell he was shaken," Happy began. "He told me he wasn't scared to die, but he was scared of losing time with you and leaving you alone. Pepper and I had been so busy trying to get him back, he was worried you had been neglected while he was gone. But when he came home and he saw your room clean, your toys put away, and a fridge full of leftovers from meals you prepared yourself, he was so proud. You inspired him to turn his life around. It was after that he told me that he knew you'd be okay if he was taken from us one day."

You both cried after that.

Long after you had finished your food, Happy drove you to the Parker's new apartment with the promise that he would be okay too, eventually. He also admitted that he was starting to develop quite the liking for your faithful boyfriend after hearing all that he had done for you, though he’d skin you alive if you ever told Peter.

It was that night in Peter's new bedroom that you knew you’d be okay. It still hurt to think of your father and you knew you’d never entirely recover and that the pain would never fully leave you, but there was a certain comfort in it now. You knew Peter felt it too as he snuggled half asleep into your side, his arm slung around your body in a protective manner, but also to keep from falling of the twin bed you shared as he let you sleep on the side with the wall. There were still days when you didn’t want to leave your bed, but there were also days when you felt more elated than ever. You could feel your father in those moments the most, like the shine of his smile took form in the light from the sun. You couldn’t see him nor could you speak with him, but you knew he wasn’t really gone. It was love that kept him around. And it was the love you carried for him that would suspend you for lifetimes, through light and dark until the end of time.

“I hope this grief stays with me because its all the unexpressed love” - Andrew Garfield 💙

#tom holland x you #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker #mental health #suicide awareness #avengers endgame #tony stark #stark!daughter #stark!reader #fem!reader #you are loved

[doiefy]

mad city // nct series

GENRE: sci fi, biopunk, dystopian, thriller PAIRINGS: features both x reader and mxm fics MEMBERS: johnny, doyoung, jaehyung, jungwoo, mark, possibly more to come!

note: if this series looks somewhat familiar, it's because it is! this is a massive rework of my old 'fight or flight' fic for doyoung, which I posted almost two years ago (pls don't read it, like 69% of it isn't canon anymore and I kinda hate it anyways). it's been a real struggle turning it into something I actually want to write for again (which involved changing the original plotline from x reader to dojae, for which I am VERY unapologetic, don't fucking touch me), but after a year or so of on-and-off planning, here it is. I can't guarantee that I’ll get these fics out super speedily, as I also want them to be very visual and will be spending a shit ton of time on graphics; but if you're interested in a tag list for any of these fics, let me know!

WHAT PEOPLE HAVE REFERRED TO AS THE SPLIT: the fracturing of life as it once was, the steady decline of the natural world, all perpetuating political tensions and rampant crime in two rival cities. 

To the north lies Iameh, an urban paradise of impressive art and culture, resulting from centuries of mining and exploitation—a pristine exterior built upon the hardship of their southern neighbours. In one of their forgotten limestone quarries lies Siacia: Iameh’s shadow, their forsaken history, but a thriving metropolis nonetheless. 

Siacia is all the blinding colours and deafening sound that Iameh is not, boasting citizens with supernatural powers and the most sinister advancements in biotech. From their empty mineshafts and grotesque lifeforms in the quarry lake arises Burner: the Siacians’ fuel, their weaponry, and their only chance against the genetic mutations that plagued them for generations.

But like all things that come out of the ground, Burner is exploited. It is quickly monopolized, used as a drug, turned into a bargaining chip by the Assembly, a loose organization of businessmen and mutants claiming to be Siacia’s ruling government. Those on the streets of the Quarry and its four cardinal faces know very well: what the Assembly demands from them must be given, lest they face their wrath. 

So the fissure spreads and opens wider between the two cities, between all people—only a matter of time before one finds themselves dangling off the edge. 

VOLUME 1: FIGHT OR FLIGHT

pairing: doyoung x jaehyun dark comedy with a side of angst, gay shenanigans and way too many dirty jokes.

KIM DOYOUNG HAS SPENT THE LAST THREE YEARS surviving the Quarry streets alone: hunting bounties for the Coffee Cow (a ruthless contract killing agency despite their name), making poor decisions at drinking establishments, and searching for his missing brother. 

It’s on one trip to the bar that he runs into Jay: a charming, well-mannered businessman from the East Lanes, with a dimpled smile and particular taste for aged whiskey. One occasion turns into two into multiple—the two seeing each other more frequently with slowly-changing intentions, until the truth comes out. Jay, Jung Jaehyun to his close colleagues, is one of the Assembly’s founding members. Which, unfortunately, means he might have something to do with Doyoung’s missing brother, and makes him one hell of an enticing target.

The resultant cat-and-mouse chase across the city is as frustrating as it is exhilarating. But in a shocking turn of events, it reveals a destructive force beyond the both of them, one that needs their immediate attention and collaboration—regardless of who they are to each other. 

anticipated release: summer/fall 2024

VOLUME 2: VIOLET CRAZY

pairing: kim jungwoo x f!reader, johnny seo x reader angst wrapped in drama, tumultuous relationships, a slow but sure descent into madness.

In the aftermath of Johnny Seo’s return, the city of Siacia is not as it once was. Tensions with Iameh are on a steady incline, Assembly politics remain a treacherous game, all while a new strain of Burner spreads through the streets like wildfire. You and Kim Jungwoo are most apathetic to the recent chaos—the two of you like two sides of the same coin, both endlessly spiteful, now embroiled in a feud of your own. For as long as you could remember, your relationship with Jungwoo was one purely of grudge and petty revenge. 

But when Johnny begins his reign of terror, perhaps the two of you are in no position to be idle bystanders. Tragedy strikes Jungwoo’s family, and he has a reluctant change of heart. On the other hand, you remain by Johnny’s side, simply watching his flames burn hotter and rise higher. Merely overnight, your long-standing rivalry with Jungwoo has turned into a struggle for the future of the undercity. The inevitable resurfacing of your past, your forgotten history with Jungwoo, and Johnny’s inexplicable grip on you—it won’t be long before it all reaches a boiling point in the crucible. 

And certainly not long before you’re forced to face the repercussions. 

anticipated release: summer 2025

VOLUME 3: RIDE OR DIE

pairing: mark lee x gn!reader from meet-cute to heated romance. ride or die. madly in love to the bittersweet end.

Breakfast tea with magazines and tabloids. Clay-stained aprons and paint-smeared jeans. Afternoon tea with so-and-so, then back to the kiln and canvases. Dinner party with your fellow curators, handling flawless plates and dainty dessert spoons and immaculate champagne glasses—rinse and repeat, again and again, the routine of an Iamehan artist and socialite. 

Quickly growing tired of all the glitter and glamour of topside, you take a trip back to your roots: the north faces of Siacia, where you can shed all the silk and cashmere in exchange for the nightlife you grew up with. Dancing wildly to rediscover yourself and inspire your art, that’s when you find your muse: Mark Lee, a VIP at the Obelisk Nightclub, blue-haired and bright-eyed, immersed in the stories you tell him. 

You could stay with him forever, seeking thrills and adventure until you reach the ends of the earth. And yet, there is still much more awaiting: the unpleasant and the unideal, and the thwarting of your course by the stars above. 

anticipated release: TBD

VOLUME 4: WHEN THE SUN SETS

pairing: johnny seo x gn!reader psychological horror turned body horror. toxic romance and a tragic end. (!!) mature content, including manipulative, toxic relationships and darker themes some readers may find disturbing.

Johnny Seo is a reasonable man. A patient man, certainly, never reckless, never cruel. Johnny is loving, the perfect lover. Devoted, and devoted wholeheartedly to you. 

In the days and months after the Assembly’s establishment, he keeps you with him at every turn of the road: arm around your waist, head in the crook of your neck, always whispering and promising you better days. A sovereign Siacia is coming, he says. She will be free from the clutches of your northern neighbours, free to do as she pleases. You believe him—until one night, when he comes home bloody and beat-up, furious and unrecognizable. 

Johnny Seo is a meticulous man. A calculated mastermind, certainly, never reckless until he’s perfectly sure, never cruel unless he has to be. Johnny is cunning, the perfect trickster. Obsessive, and obsessed with keeping your memory alive. Obsessed with keeping you with him, an eternal part of him.

anticipated release: TBD

#nct fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut #nct images #nct timestamps #nct blurbs #nct scenarios #nct #nct 127 #nct doyoung #doyoung fanfic #nct jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #nct johnny #johnny fanfic #nct mark #mark fanfic #nct jungwoo #jungwoo fanfic

[tortured-demigods-department]

an unhinged (and unofficial) dissertation on the pjo fandom

so i don't usually post anything that isn't my-works-related, but i had a...mildly heated discussion with a fellow film student tonight about the pjo show and it's got me thinking. bear with me, we'll be here awhile.

as we all know, the first season of pjo has ended. i've stayed relatively OFF tumblr and other social media during this time, but i know there are a lot of OG fans who are (in their words) "massively disappointed" in the show. most of the complaints i've heard have been during in person conversations though, so this post is mostly going to be referencing real complaints i've heard.

i've been a part of this fandom since i was thirteen. that's nearly eight fucking years of my life that i've devoted to the pjo universe. i have written and consumed YEARS' worth of fanfiction, i have read and reread every book so many times i can quote them forwards and backwards, and i went to the bookstore every single year on the new books' release dates to pick up my copies in-person. this fandom, these characters and this world have brought so much joy to my life, and i don't think i could ever fully articulate that in words. when i think of this series, i genuinely feel nothing but happiness.

but a few years ago—around the time i started college—i started distancing myself from the fandom for one glaring reason. this fandom can be such an...angry place? like, genuinely, i don't know how far it goes back—maybe all the way to the release of HoA, honestly—but i wasn't here pre-HoA, so all i know is that i very much remember how much people hated ToA when it came out.

here i was, having the TIME of my life with apollo and his silly little haikus, and people are going to war over how the series' writing quality has gone to shit and how everything was better before, blah, blah, blah. IN SPITE of everything that series gave us—discussion of the repercussions of child abuse and ptsd, representation of lgbtqa+ characters, and deep psychological messages that really teach young readers, i think, how to better understand themselves and their emotions and deal with them in healthy ways. and it just wasn't fun to be in a fandom where, as soon as you go "hey, did you read the new book?" they scoff and roll their eyes and only want to talk about how terrible it is. (i also missed all the discourse on the sun and the star when it came out—PHENOMENAL read, btw—but i've read some things that lead me to believe that it wasn't well received either, in spite of how lovely it was.)

so...it's dramatic to say i "left" the fandom, but i certainly withdrew from it. deleted my pjo ao3 and tumblr, started over with a different fandom. but the love has always been there, and the show starting really helped spark it fully back to life.

but now, the same thing is happening again, i'm noticing. remember back in the day, when we only had the shitty fucking movies, and we were like "man, ANYTHING would be better than this garbage. literally just give us actors who are the right age and we'll be happy." well, now we have PHENOMENAL kid actors who genuinely are having a good time playing our beloved characters, and instead of supporting them, we're STILL complaining about them not being "portrayed correctly"?

i've talked to so many people who complain that percy is "too smart," which is kind of a bullshit insult to percy's canon character. in the books (at least the first five) we're seeing things ONLY from percy's pov. he's a kid who's struggled with learning disabilities and been told he's an idiot all his life by everyone except his mom—but as others have pointed out way more eloquently than i could, percy is a very intelligent and powerful individual while maintaining his goofy fun personality, which is WHY so many people love him so much. he's complex, and i think they managed to capture that really well in the show even amidst all the changes.

don't get me started on the fucking racism towards leah sava jeffries—i'm honest to gods ashamed that there are racists who call themselves pjo fans. she is so talented, and everything we ever could have hoped for in an on-screen annabeth. ALL of the kids are—there's literally no argument to be had there.

and then, if people aren't complaining about the casting, it's the series' writing. or there's too much exposition. rick is changing too many things. the directors don't know what they're doing. it's not a TRUE book adaptation. (someone said that to me, and i genuinely laughed because i thought they were joking. when the MOVIES exist, they wanted to make that comment about the show.)

are there some things i would change about the show, given the opportunity? god, yes. the set design for the underworld was horrendous. (in my opinion, of course.) but here's the thing. i have spent eight years of my life waiting for this show to happen, and in that time, i've learned a lot about how much goes into successfully producing such a complex series. how much money and time is spent, and how many people have to be on board to make it happen. it's genuinely kind of miraculous that we're even getting this show at all, considering all the ways it could have failed before it even made it out of pre-production.

and i think we, as fans, sometimes forget that we aren't owed this. we don't own the percy jackson franchise. it makes me so sick and tired when authors or artists in any capacity feel like they have to cater their works to the masses, because they know they'll get thrown into the fucking fire if they don't. rick and becky riordan didn't have to got to the trouble of producing this show for us. they chose to—everyone involved chose to—because they wanted to make something fun and enjoyable not only for the fans, but everyone who chose to be a part of it.

do you know how insane it is that, when you read pretty much any interview of pjo bts, everyone talks about how fun the production was? i've been on film sets. they can be ABSOLUTELY miserable when they're not done right. but eight months into production, the kids were still laughing and having a good time, everyone's still giving 100%, they're excited, it's fun. walker was willing to go into a diving tank for a full fucking day in order to get one scene—i know i would never have that kind of dedication, and i bet 99% of you wouldn't either.

i know this has gotten really long-winded, but i've said all of that to say that...i'm kind of tired of fans trying to bring down the show, and more than that, trying to bring down each other for having a good time. as i've said before (many times, i'm sure), i waited eight years for this, and i have had SUCH a fun time watching it. assuming we get a season 2 renewal, there are going to be even more new fans coming in than we've already gotten from season 1, and i want this fandom to be a fun and positive place for them. for all of us. we don't have to miserable and angry all time. we can critique the show, sure—it's not perfect, and it was never going to be—but we have to remember that television is an art form, and that art is subjective even when it involves our favorite characters. and we can accept that and still have a good time, because it's just more fun to have fun, you know?

this fandom has always had so much potential to be the BIGGEST, most supportive and kind and loving fandom. with how much representation this series has, with how much content we've been given, with the SHEER massive number of us...i've always thought we could be a really, really great community. maybe it's impossible to hope that we could be the best fandom on earth, but if nothing else...could we all try to just be a little bit kinder? genuinely, as cheesy as it may sound...it's just nicer when we're nice to each other. and when there's so many real things in the world to be mad about...i would much rather this be a place where we can come to at the end of a long day and just...feel at home. personally, i just think that would be really, really nice.

#percy jackson #percy series #percy jackson tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fandom #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #pjo show #pjo fandom #pjo series #me ranting for five million years #i wish i could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy... #she doesn't even go here #with all of that said i'm going to bed #i have class at 8am tomorrow and really should NOT have spent this much of my night writing this

[not-poignant]

Out of curiosity, when did the, 'fanfic doesn't need to adhere to canon, everything is valid and good, don't give concrit unless specifically asked for' attitude become the norm? Genuine question.

I was active in fandom back in the LJ days, when sporkings and comms viciously mocking Mary Sues were the norm, but then I sort fell out of fandom spaces for the past (checks notes) fifteen years holy shit. The current attitude seems diametrically opposed to what I remember fandom being like (kinda shitty, it was 'cool' to be an asshole back then), and I'm just curious as to when and how the shift happened. I mean, I assume it was a gradual thing, but is there anything in particular that stick out to you?

(Also, because tone doesn't convey very well through ask, and I don't want to leave you with a poor impression-- this is by no means a defence of the 2000s attitudes, nor an aspersion on the current ones. I'm genuinely only curious about the evolution from one to the other; I hope that comes across.)

Hi anon!

TL;DR because my response got LONG -> Anon this existed before Livejournal as an attitude, in fact modern fandom was literally born out of being not canon compliant (*waves aggressively to Spirk shippers*) and this existed on Livejorunal too and there have always been big pockets of fandom that really frowned on sporking even there, like that was not cool when I was on LJ, unless you were a certain age, or in certain spaces in fandom.

But also AO3 was its kind of final death knell re: making it cool to bully 13-16 yo writers (who were largely the victims of sporking) and killing dreams, which was born out of meta happening on LJ and in other places about like... not trying to make people miserable for writing a free fic out of the love in their heart that someone else didn't like or think was good enough.

Anyway, the longer version of this under the read more!

(For everyone else, welcome to some of the uglier aspects of 00s fandom!)

So there was actually criticism around all the stuff you mention 15-20 years ago as well. I was also on Livejournal during that time and there was a pretty big proportion of people in certain fandoms who recognised even then that like... setting up communities to mock say, Mary Sue writers, was actually a pretty weirdly cruel thing to do to people who were providing free labour and the literal only 'payment' they could get in a kind of energy exchange was people just not being complete dickheads to them.

So things were already changing, especially in many LJ communities and awards communities. There were a lot of big debates over whether concrit should be asked for, and a growing movement of authors who said they welcomed constructive criticism for example, instead of assuming it should automatically apply. There was also a lot of meta around the function of fanfiction and whether it should even be 'good' by published standards if the author was just doing it for themselves, and for fun (esp if they were just going to get punished for it by folks who were elitist, judgemental, grammar purists etc.)

Things really changed around the time of AO3 (2009-2010 - literally around 14~ years ago, you may have just missed the big change anon!), Strikethrough and the Dreamwidth exodus. There was a massive swing away from leaving concrit unless the author specifically asked for it, and fandom became a lot more generally able to recognise that a lot of labour goes into fanart and fanfiction and that paying with public criticism is shitty actually. Also people were just more able to recognise that like most fanfiction writers aren't trying to become professional writers and many don't want to be.

(I would actually say things changed around the time of fanfiction.net too - rude comments there were definitely noticed and could create some pretty forward 'hey why are you doing this on something you literally don't have to read' responses from fellow readers - idk what fic sites you were on. The small indie fic sites where you could often only comment via email for example, definitely drew a lot more critical attention than sites that tended to have public comments).

The 'fanfic doesn't need to adhere to canon' literally exists since the very first Spirk slash fic in modern fanfiction in the last few decades. Literally, as soon as you write Kirk/Spock, you're not adhering to canon. Our fanfiction 'ancestors' literally paved the way for a legacy which is about not adhering to canon in order to see the world/s and thing/s you want to see, be entertained by, by turned on by, or enjoy, from the very beginning. You may not have been in slash circles anon, but the foundation of queer same sex fanfic is in many ways the foundation of fandom. But yeah, this is literally where fanfiction started! As soon as you're shipping characters that aren't canon for fun (or for whatever reason), you're making it pretty clear that you want stories different to canon, and you have to change things to often keep those characters in-character.

So yeah! That's been there for decades. Idk what circles you were in on that front! While it was fairly common for a while to criticise characters for being OOC (Out of Character), imho, a lot of folks started to recognise that they literally weren't paying for what they were criticising, and they could just walk away and potentially not like...blast the fanfic. Some folks started to recognise more that people were writing with ESL, or were teenagers (some 40 yos in fandom realised they were mocking literal 15 year olds in their proto-podcasts and websites and realised actually that's just...mean? Really mean? Not the way to nurture new generations of fanfiction writers. Definitely in no way encouraging), or were writing for themselves, or writing for like one other person, or writing for fun, or writing for free, or writing for personal reasons etc.

'Don't Like Don't Read' wasn't just about political stuff, it was also about just walking away if you feel the urge to slam a fanfic in the comments.

I've been in fandom for around 2.5 decades anon, and there were so many spaces that were not actually as shitty or mean-spirited as the ones you were in? Or ones that at least had a lot of different thoughts etc. Like, sporking (mocking/bullying badfics and sometimes the folks who wrote them) was disapproved of by a lot of people in fandom even while sporking was at the height of its popularity (the Fanlore page goes into more detail about this). It might have just been the fandoms you were in, or the people you were hanging out with (and that might have been dependent on your age or just if you were around people who wanted to be 'cool' back then - in the same way that being an 'anti' is cool among certain crowds today. It's possible to spend years in certain crowds and never get an image of broader fandom for example - we can all end up in spaces like that! I know I have.)

When I started writing fanfiction (which no one will EVER find lmao), generally giving positive comments was normal. Constructive criticism was actually pretty rare and there were already fanfiction aggregate sites that generally disapproved of it in their Rules of Conduct. People were encouraging and polite. And this was around 20 years ago on Livejournal and private indie fanfiction websites.

I would actually say there was never exactly an evolution from 'one to the other' because like thousands of people in fandom already believed this and argued in defense of supporting fanfiction and transformative works via accepting that people are labouring for free and that not everyone wants to become a 'better writer' etc. - the meta was there on Livejournal in the 00s. There were communities where sporking was seen as hip/fun, and communities where it was literally banned or at the very least, super frowned upon.

There were meta fandom communities where sporking was the subject of discussion and you know eventually in a lot of those meta communities, that's where a lot of folks decided actually that calling out the fanfiction of 16 yos as 'cringe' or 'badly done' maybe said more about us as human beings and what we wanted fandom to be, than it did about the actual fanfic itself. By the time AO3 came around, people built it with this in mind.

To this day on AO3 it's mostly considered appropriate to say you want concrit in your author's notes, and to otherwise assume as a reader it's never welcome if it's unsolicited. That started during the LJ era. And it was talked about at great length. There's obviously going to be people who disagree! But for the most part I'm a big believer in compassion and 'not everyone is here for the same reason' and 'they literally gave this to us for free and it's meant to be fun' (like yourself! What we do/think/argue 10 years ago on LJ is sometimes different to what we do 10 years later lol, I used to be against trigger warnings pre-AO3! Times change a lot :D )

So yeah, this was definitely something that was around before you and I came to fandom, and it was something that continued to grow as an attitude during, until finally it kind of won out on AO3. But yeah fandom as we know it was born in people literally not being canon compliant to make some gay dreams come true (Spirk shippers bless them all), at a time when there was no representation.

Even in the earliest days of fandom where comments could only happen via email, one of the earliest phrases authors used were things like 'flames will be used to roast marshmallows.' For those reading who don't know, flames are hate comments, critical 'this fic is bad because' comments etc. Except you emailed them directly to the author, because there was no place for comments on a fic.

And this started because authors in part got death threats for writing gay stuff.

So you know, from the very beginning, authors in fanfic have by and large had a very low tolerance for criticism / hate over something they're doing for free and making no profit out of, when they're changing/altering the canon as they please to create representation (or hotness lmao), that is literally a labour of love in a world of very little representation. From there, things have just grown. The whole 'flames will not be tolerated' existed even before Livejournal did.

Honestly there are still people who love sporking and you could probably find groups and Discords dedicated to that even now (actually you literally can, there's a Dreamwidth group for it), it's kind of wild but it started to get cool again. Just like 90s clothing :D (Which is also wild because I can just take that crap out of my closet and wear it again).

But yeah it also sounds like you may have been in some pretty crappy pockets of fandom! When I was on LJ in the 00s I avoided those places and still got to experience fandom across multiple fandoms (mostly NCIS, Captive Prince, HP, Profiler, The X-Files and some others) and communities.

I was super active in some fandom communities and saw a lot of meta happening, and my view during the early and late 00s was that sporking was largely pretty frowned upon after a very brief (like 3-6 month) era where it was cool for only some folks, and then everyone (including some - but not all - of those folks) was like 'heyyyyyyy hang on a minute.' It was something that the bullies did, and enjoyed, and otherwise folks kind of stayed away from it, especially once they learned people were becoming too scared to write fics, which is the inevitable outcome of mocking/bullying folks and fics that have been made purely out of love for something.

Like, publicly making a spectacle out of what a 13 yo (they were often teens - and it's kind of sad how many 40 yo women were doing the sporking :/ ) wrote out of love, just for fun/clout was not considered cool by everyone even back then, because like, a lot of us saw that as killing new generations of fandom (some folks who sporked considered it a win if a fic or account got deleted, this is not based behaviour), not actually creating good writing, internalised misogyny (Mary Sue hatred and self insert hatred), etc. It's hard to explain because I do really think we were in different corners of fandom at the time, but I don't know anyone personally from my time on Livejournal who actually liked sporking as an idea or enjoyed it or enjoyed listening to it or reading articles mocking fic.

I knew about it from very lively 'is this okay' 'actually no it's not even if it's just for fun this is trying to hurt people and saying 'it's just the fic' is not going to be the bandaid a teenager needs to understand why older folks (generally) in fandom are mocking them for being new at a skill' discussions on LJ in meta fandom communities. So this is how much I could be in fandom and not be a part of it and also have like a wildly different experience to your LJ experience!

I think if I'd been a teenager during that era it would have seemed a lot more appealing (in the same way that many teens are antis now before they grow out of it), and fuck it if I was a more bitter person who was just around people who liked to make fun of what other people created, perhaps I would have enjoyed it too, I can see a lot of reasons why a person would fall into that in LJ -> but I was an adult on LJ trying not to be mean to people or what they were creating, so yeah I was maybe just in very different spaces! (Don't get me wrong, I have my giant fucking character flaws, but I was very scared of people hating me so like I didn't want to do things that would make that happen, lol, and also I was scared to put up fic myself during the era of active sporking. I know for myself that sporkers didn't just scare away writers of 'badfic' - they...intimidated a LOT of people).

Before AO3 I was on FF.net, posting fics on LJ, posting on Schnoogle, gossamer, and a couple of other archives. So I don't think my experience was that 'narrow,' I just think I wasn't around like... anime at that time or other places where it might have been happening. I also avoided like...Draco/Malfoy where CC drama was happening and I know sporking was popular in that specific arena / pairing for a while as well (er, as well as anything to do with Mary Sues).

So yeah! That's about where that is. Generally gatekeeping fandom is just seen as not a great thing to do to people, and that creates other kind of beliefs that are generally upheld as being more inviting/nurturing. After all, if someone truly wants to get better at writing, they can ask, or do courses, but as we all know, everyone has to write some bad stuff to get good at it, but not everyone wants to be good. Folks are in fandom for different reasons. I'm rambling now so I'm going to finish my lunch! :D

#asks and answers #pia on fandom #pia on writing #god i do not miss sporking #but it's still happening tbh in some sections of the internet #and it always will!!! #there will always be fics that piss us off or that are just written painfully #generally speaking it's just encouraged to share that with afriend privately #instead of creating a website and recording an interview or discussion or slam #or writing an article for fandom to see #and using BNF energy to chase fic writers out of fandom #it's wild that it was actually around for as long as it was #on LJ #i feel like that was the mean-spirited click-bait era before click-bait then came around #anyway it's grown in popularity again because of Tiktok! #such is life :D

[anundyingfidelity]

NOT MEANT TO BE — Talos x female!reader

Summary: Talos survived to Gravik's attack. Now you are taking care of him after he inexplicably left you years ago.

Word count: 1.9k.

Warnings: hints to sex and infidelity, spoilers of Secret Invasion?, fixing Talos death in Secret Invasion fic (that is not canon, I am against it). The usual spoilers of Secret Invasion but I bet everyone forgot about it now. Forbidden love. Angst but also fluff.

Notes: so I feel this is very late and we're only 3 Talos stans, anyway I need some domestic Talos in my life, but most important I need to fix this character because he deserves the world. *sobs*. Shout out to the anon who requested this.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

I'm also sorry if this is boring and forgive me for any errors as my main language is not English.

GEN MASTERLIST!

i. In which you wake up

In silence, you sat down in the dark, hospital-like room. Two days passed and he was still sleeping, unconscious. Nothing more you wished but seeing his eyes again. His real eyes.

How? It didn't matter how, either in his real skin or his human disguise, you missed him and he was once everything for you. And that never changed. A book was lying on your lap but your attention was focused on other things. On him and the memories you were trying so hard to forget, until you realized that would not happen. His memory was strong in your head.

You wished somehow your paths would cross one more time, to give yourselves a chance again. However, this wasn't how you wanted it to happen.

Years before, Fury presented both of you for a mission. You started with SHIELD at a very young age, so this was a huge step in your career inside the organization. But it was also the downfall of your heart.

Talos and you spent more than a year together in Europe, him in his human skin most of the time as it was required. And you fell for him - hard. The thoughts of your last night together in that hotel room were vividly in your head... it was perfect. His touch, his words, his warmth, his lovely words... Until you woke up to an empty spot on the bed, with a small note on the boudoir saying:

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

And that was it.

Until Fury called you, inexplicably, and you didn't have a heart to say no to this situation. So Talos was sleeping on the bed of this room, with you taking care of him until he would be awake again. A sigh left your lips, wishing he would finally open his eyes and you'd be able to see him, and talk to him, to feel him. With a sigh, you went back to the book you had, looking over his serene figure sleeping on the bed by your side. Hopefuly he was going to wake up soon.

It was about half an hour later than you forgot about your book and observed how he slowly blinked, trying to get used to the dim light in the room. He was back, just a little. Weak, but it was something. He started to move his hands slowly, looking around the place and feeling strange.

"G'iah..." he whispered with a raspy voice.

"She's okay," you soothed, lacing your hand with his own, carresing his real skin in a tight grip. "She's fine, you need to rest."

Your name comes out of his dry lips and it was hurting you. Quickly you took a glass of water from the nightstand and pour small sips on his lips while you helped Talos to sit down on your mattress.

After a moment of realization of where he was and what had happened, he looked at you as if a ghost appeared in front of his eyes. Your hand cupped softly his cheek and he leaned into your warm touch.

"Rest, we'll talk later."

"How many time..." he whispered, but couldn't finish the question.

"Just a couple of days. Rest, you need it, G'iah is fine," you assured him, taking again his hand between yours.

"Fury?"

"He's doing fine too, don't worry about that old man," you smiled sweetly. "Fury called me, he brought you here."

"Where?" Talos breathed, you squeezed his hand softly, afraid of what would happen next.

"My home."

ii. In which you confront

You were not ready for this, but you accepted to take care of the former general skrull during his recovery. It was a hard thing to do, considering your history together and the fact that somehow you never got over him. Even if you forced yourself to do so.

It wasn't an easy task to do. G'iah somehow sent you a serum to inject his father as he came unconscious to your place. He was healing at a slow pace, but he was looking better now that he was up having a small dinner in your dinning room.

"So a super-skrull, huh?"

"That's what she is now, at least as far as I know."

Talos nodded completely focused on the food on his plate, he was really hungry. Poor thing, a lot of things were happening in his life. "This might be a bit shocking or weird for you..."

He shook his head, looking at you with his big purple eyes. "Not as much as I thought," he said while he took a bite. "Y'know, things are crazy after the Blip... And being honest, I thought I'd be dead by now."

You tried to chuckle, but brushed it off. He was still here. Alive. With you.

"Your daughter is so brave. She really saved you, Talos."

He breathed, you were sure he didn't know he was holding all that air inside his lungs.

"I really don't know what to say to that. She's gone again. Feels like I never had her back."

"Hey, I will contact her."

"I'd love that, but first, could we talk?" Talos locked his eyes with yours for the first time that day.

"About what?"

"About what does this mean," he whispered.

"You're the one who left and years later I am here taking care of you, and now you're questioning me?" it was more an affirmation than a question. "Incredible. You should sleep now."

"I'm not- Listen, I'm not trying to make you say something. I know I'm the one who has to apologize," Talos stuttered with his words, he looked and felt guilty.

But you also did feel that same way for years.

He was with you during your long mission, pretending something was happening between you and him, but he was still married in the end. Talos had a wife and a daughter, and for some time you ignored the reality. His reality. And you knew you were selfish, hurting someone you didn't even meet before just to feel loved and safe once in your life. However this was a game for two. And Talos never pushed back, he wanted it as much as you did.

Maybe the guilt suddenly appeared. Maybe it was Fury calling for him because of an emergency. Anything. After he left, you received a message stating the work was done. So you went back to your reality. Talos was still the general when you messed up, and he was looking for a new planet to call home so nothing was guaranteed. He would never give up his family or his people for a human like you. But in the end, you accepted his words. Because they were true to you. And he was all you had right now.

"I want to say sorry too," you mumbled. "We did bad things and they were not right."

Talos accepted your apology in silence. He knew too well what both of you did. Soreen eventually found out, but that was another story. Still, he loved her until her last day. He would love her forever. But she was long gone now.

"Maybe we should start again," he suggested after a moment of silence.

"Maybe."

iii. In which you start again

Seven days passed after Talos woke up at your place and he was basically healed by now.

The wound on his chest was almost gone and you were glad he decided to take a break before speaking to Fury once again and running behind him.

Talos started to get his human form again, with the face of the former boss of Fury. You liked him both ways, in his own skin or not. He was still as beautiful and kind as you remembered.

Though the routine was the same every day, you felt peace beside Talos, something you were missing in your life. His presence did make you feel better. So here you were, head on his shoulder while he read a book, both of you sitting on the couch of your quiet living room after dinner.

His voice soothed you, and for the first time in years you felt at home. Talos was reading a very old book of fairytales that he found fascinating for some reason. It was nice to see him enjoy something as mundane as a human book. But then, meanwhile his deep and soft voice read the words on the pages, you remembered that this was not going to last forever. It was already a problem that you wished it would continue.

Talos was going to leave someday, encouraged to find the home the skrulls missed and you will have to move on one more time.

"What's on your mind?" Talos voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Nothing."

"I just finished this chapter and you said nothing."

You chuckled. He was waiting for your comment or random fact that came out of nowhere.

"Sorry... I guess I'm sleepy right now."

Sitting properly on the couch you still remained by his side, he was warm and for some reason, he remained in his human disguise since a couple of days ago. You knew his face was another person you never met, but you couldn't stop yourself from admiring him when you were this close. You were so close you could kiss him.

"Your eyes are so blue," you mumbled. "I like them."

His lips curved on a smile and his puppy eyes were shining in the dim light, looking directly at you. "Maybe I should stay like this forever," he joked, referring to his human form.

"Whatever you prefer is fine for me. I wish you could stay with me though..."

His gaze fell down to the book on his lap. You knew that was not going to happen, but how you longed it after everything you shared. Kisses, personal secrets, lonely nights where your bodies gave to each other, even your sins...

"You don't have to answer that," you added.

"I wish that too," Talos said, locking your eyes with his own one more time. "You know I would... but-"

"What?"

"I have to help my people," he looked guilty.

"I know, Talos. I know that. And it's okay," in reality it wasn't. But you had to trick yourself to believe it in some way.

He mumbled a soft 'thank you' and kissed your forehead sweetly, embracing a strong arm around you and you allowed yourself to feel safe and sound after so many years. Words were not needed. You both knew what was going on, but he had to leave someday and just the thought of him running away again was hurting you.

Talos kissed the top of your head, inhaling your scent, and you remained like that for some minutes until he broke the silence.

"I love you."

"I know."

You pulled away from his embrace and pecked his lips softly, cupping his cheek with your hand. He had a silly smile as you kissed him.

"I love you too," you said after kissing him one last time. At least for the night.

"Let's get you to bed," he pecked your cheek and grabbed your hand heading his way to your bedroom. You chuckled following his steps knowing what he meant with his words.

If he was going to leave someday, then it was better to enjoy every minute together.

#talos x female reader #talos x reader #talos #mcu talos #secret invasion #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x female reader #talos x you #ben mendelsohn #talos imagines #talos imagine #ben mendelsohn fanfic #marvel fanfic

[yellowocaballero]

I'd be interested in those writing shortcuts 👀 (don't feel pressured though)

Yeah sure! This is in reference to this and this posts.

These are all pretty 'fic style' stories, because they scaffold off pre-existing canon. It's like you're walking inside of a pre-built house and you're putting up new wallpaper and designing the rooms. Novel style is like if you're building the entire house. So these are really great for fun and if you have writer's block or have problems starting a story. They're also really good if you're practicing your dialogue, scene composition, characterization, etc - they are not good for developing skills on how to build the house, but if you're trying to work on actually making a readable story they're great methods to practice. They're also a lot easier to make good lol.

While writing these out I realized that they're almost entirely AUs. This is because I like AUs. You don't have to do AUs, you can adapt these however you want if you just like writing canon. Loser. Anyway, these are my low-effort stories:

A series of disconnected scenes that take place over a long period of time. If you have an idea in mind (or you just want to use the OG work's timeline), then you can show scenes or moments over a long period in time. For example, ages ago I wrote an AU story following the life of one character. One scene for 2008, one for 2010, one for 2012 etc.

Rewriting canon. If you have an AU idea or have a way in mind to change canon to something you think fucks harder, then you can use pre-existing episodes or season plotlines and just add your own flavor to what already exists. If you write for BNHA you aren't allowed to do this. That's the rule. How is all BNHA fic 600k AUs where one extremely minor detail is changed. God they're boring.

Alternate viewpoint/missing scene of a story you have. Like you can do this for canon too but that sounds super boring. This is actually something I do in order to help the quality of the main story - if I'm finding myself writing a super complicated character, I write another story about him from his POV to help give me a handle on him. Or write her parts of the story from her perspective. It's a writing exercise to help me figure out the character and it is also easy and fun.

"X Meets Y". Do you really like Legally Blonde? Do you think your favorite character being Elle Woods would be really funny? Stuff like that. Would it be really funny if your blorbo was Sharpay Evans? Yes it would be. Yeah I DID write a story many years ago that was "X meets Teen Beach Movie", why?

I don't know how many other people out there have extremely convoluted entire AU ideas, but if you have the whole AU in your mind then it is incredibly easy to write little stories or snippets from the AU. Like, so easy. A stand-out scene in your mind, the life of one supporting character, an alternate POV, whatever. Literally whenever I want to write something absolutely 0 effort whatsoever I go back to one of my 3 bugfuck stupid AUs and write something for them again.

This is actually something I think everybody should do, because it is basically how I learned story structure: find the trashiest, most formulaic genre you can. Watch or read something from that genre, or just collect genre conventions. Use the pre-packaged and pre-written formula to structure your own story and fill in the blanks.

(Also, these aren't very tropey or reliant on shipping/romance beats, which is nice if you want to get away from that stuff)

Nowadays, I find all of that helpful when I feel like doing something 0 effort. When I was a less experienced writer and I deadass did not know how to build a house, then these were really helpful for learning what wallpaper looks good and what arrangement of furniture creates good fung shui and what couches go best with that coffee table. They're also good passing. Seriously, these are like the most popular stories on my AO3. People eat this shit up. Why. They're so lazy.

IDK, these are what I do because they're the kinds of stories I like to write! What you find easy to write will be different. This is all a very personal list. I can see my personal thumbprint (no romance, AU central) really clearly. I'm kind of curious now: what are y'all's favorite low-effort, easy, fun stories to write?

Also as a heads up if your story doesn't have any sort of conflict in it, then it will actually very difficult to write. Trust me. Conflict makes you voom. Do it. Please. Love of god.

#i have BAMBOOZLED all of you into thinking the artemis fowl and first reverse robins story was good #BAMBOOZLED I SAY #my writing #my asks #writing advice #writing #everybody who writes BNHA go home and think about your life. #ok I want to say something like #“and the EASIEST story to write is a roleswap au” #BUT I DON'T WRITE EM CUZ THEYRE EASY #I WRITE EM CUZ THEY'RE FUCKING FUN #and sooo interesting #also easy.

[raine-kai]

Mapping out the ages of the Emperor's children in Love Like the Galaxy

For an AU fic I'm writing, I felt the need to map out the ages of the emperor's ten sons and five daughters from Love Like the Galaxy, and thought that maybe perhaps this would be of interest to others, too. I'll start by laying out all the info I have amassed from canon, the particular constraints for elements that I have decided matter to me personally, and then I'll lay out 2 possible age schemes I have mapped out--1 if there are twins involved, and 1 if there are single births only.

You would think, if any of the princes or princesses addressed each other, the forms of address would give you a clue to their relative ages, and all that would remain is to just figure out specifically how many years lie between each, but alas...the only ones I have been able to find are between pairs whose age relationship is not in question in any of my age maps.

But if you have info that I've missed, please do tell me, I would love to have more info.

First, the info we have from the book canon goes as follows:

Xuan Shen'an has five sons and three daughters.

Yue Heng has four sons and two daughters, though she also has one son who died prematurely (he is not counted in the numbers); the birth after his was a princess.

Xu Meiren, the maid who became a concubine, has just one child, the Fifth Prince.

Second Princess and Third Princess are Yue Heng's, all the other princesses are Xuan Shen'an's.

First Prince (or Crown Prince, or Zikun) and Second Prince are Xuan Shen'an's.

Third Prince (Ziduan) and Fourth Prince are Yue Heng's.

Fifth Princess is the only child born after the war ended 13-14 years prior to canon. (This is info from the drama, and I do not remember if it corresponded to the novel, but I'm going with it.)

Luo Jitong mentions that pre-time skip, all the princes younger than the Fifth Prince were too young to consider as prospective husbands. So they all must have been in their teens, probably skewing younger.

Zisheng entered the palace 13 years prior to canon, and is called Shiyi Lang (十一郎, Eleventh Young Master), meaning that by the time he entered the palace, the tenth prince had to already have been born.

The only way I can find to assess the age of the Second Princess relative to her brothers is via her friend Qu Lingjun, who is her friend. It's mentioned that Yue Heng would have loved to have Qu Lingjun as her own daughter-in-law (via Ziduan), but the age was inappropriate--which suggests to me that the Second Princess is older than Ziduan.

Zikun and Qu Lingjun have been married to their respective spouses for six years in the novel, ten years in the drama. This means they have to have been of marriageable age by some definition 6-10 years ago depending on the canon.

Additional constraints from me, for my fic:

Due to the way the Emperor and Yue Heng deferred to Xuan Shen'an, it makes sense to imagine that they would not have started trying for a child until after Shen'an has safely given birth to at least one son. This means that Yue Heng's eldest is likely 1-2 years younger than Zikun (a point which is relevant, because if I chose to map 1st princess as elder than Zikun, then I wouldn't see Yue Heng being able to have her first child for 3-4 years after Shen'an started having children).

Ziduan must be Zisheng's age or older. In fact, it makes the most sense if he's a few years older.

That said, Ziduan and Zikun can't be THAT much older than Zisheng, or it makes no sense why he is such a trusted friend and advisor.

Fifth Prince is probably 20 or 21, and given the kurfuffle his conception caused in the palace, it makes sense to imagine that there are no births in the harem for some time after his.

SO. This is a birth order, with only single births. Ages listed are at the time of the drama canon, when Shaoshang is 15 and Zisheng is 21:

First Prince (Zikun, 28, born to Shen'an)

First Princess (26, born to Shen'an)

Second Princess (25, born to Yue Heng)

Second Prince ( 24, born to Shen'an)

Third Prince (Ziduan, 23, born to Yue Heng)

Fourth Prince (21, born to Yue Heng)

Fifth Prince (20, born to Xu Meiren)

Sixth Prince (18, born to Shen'an)

[unnumbered prince born to Yue Heng who did not survive]

Seventh Prince (17, born to Shen'an)

Third Princess (16, born to Yue Heng)

Fourth Princess (16, born to Shen'an)

Eighth Prince (15, born to Yue Heng)

Ninth Prince (15, born to Shen'an)

Tenth Prince (14, born to Yue Heng)

Fifth Princess (12-13, born to Shen'an)

And this is the birth order of you allow for occasional twins. Again, ages mapped to drama canon:

First Prince (Zikun, 26, born to Shen'an)

First Princess and Second Prince (24, born to Shen'an)

Second Princess (24, born to Yue Heng)

Third Prince (Ziduan) and Fourth Prince (22, born to Yue Heng)

Fifth Prince (20, born to Xu Meiren)

Sixth Prince (18, born to Shen'an)

[unnumbered prince born to Yue Heng who did not survive]

Third Princess (16, born to Yue Heng)

Seventh Prince and Fourth Princess (16, born to Shen'an)

Eighth Prince and Ninth Prince (14, born to Yue Heng)

Tenth Prince (14, born to Shen'an)

Fifth Princess (12-13, born to Shen'an)

Aaaaaaaaand bonus round!! My fic needs aside, what do I think would ACTUALLY make the most sense for their canon ages, given what we know? Here's a mapping with only single births:

First Prince (Zikun, 26, born to Shen'an)

First Princess (24, born to Shen'an)

Second Princess (24, born to Yue Heng)

Second Prince (23, born to Shen'an)

Third Prince (Ziduan, 21, born to Yue Heng)

Fourth Prince (20, born to Yue Heng)

Fifth Prince (19, born to Xu Meiren)

Sixth Prince (17, born to Shen'an)

[unnumbered prince born to Yue Heng who did not survive]

Seventh Prince (16, born to Shen'an)

Third Princess (16, born to Yue Heng)

Fourth Princess (15, born to Shen'an)

Eighth Prince (15, born to Yue Heng)

Ninth Prince (14, born to Shen'an)

Tenth Prince (14, born to Yue Heng)

Fifth Princess (13, born to Shen'an)

Look at that breakneck birthing schedule toward the end... 😱I'm not going to add a mapping for multiple births, because at this point I feel like (in the absence of additional information that I've missed, which is definitely a possibility) if you have fic needs, you can adapt them to suit.

Anyway, hope this helped somebody other than myself... 😂

#love like the galaxy #wen ziduan #wen zikun #third prince #emperor wen #yue heng #xuan shen'an #lltg #lltg meta #? #what do you even call these bouts of obsessing over details #fanfic #age mapping #just watch #I missed something major from the novel and it's all wrong actually #and I'll have to start over

[kristailine]

On Jun Kazama's personality

I have an on and off recurring tekken / kazujun phase ever since I shipped them when I was 7 years old lol. Whenever this phase occurs, I have the sudden urge to read and re-read all the kazujun fanfics and consume some canon content crumbs.

Besides this, a part of me still finds it difficult to conceptualize Jun's personality that is independent from all her ties with the supernatural and her relationship with Kazuya and Jin. The lack of information on the source material itself really allows for people to interpret her in different ways, mostly by making sense out of implicative instances and subtleties that's written in canon. I noticed the differences in interpretations mostly on fanfics.

Like I have read a ton of kazujun fanfics (fanfiction dot net, ao3, heck even tumblr and some on that dead tekken dojo website that was shut down a few years ago. You name it all) and almost all of them have in some way a very unique characterization of Jun.

Some older works stick with the orthodox, depicting her as like the purest and most tranquil person to have ever graced the Earth who also possesses little to no flaws. She's also often written as innocent and naive but has a strong willpower. I believe this kind of personality of hers was brought about thanks to the Tekken Motion Picture anime wherein Jun is very persistent about freeing Kazuya from his hatred and all that.

Other works that were made in the mid 2000s until early 2010s give her a little more dimension by making her a bit more playful and adventurous. Just like what a 22 year old woman would be (now I can somehow relate to this because I finally reached that early 20s age too and all I wanna do is explore and have fun in life).

It's not such an out of character kind of characterization to Jun when she's always been depicted as someone who's pure and tranquil. In fact, I do find this an interesting layer on her personality. Like imagine living in a remote island in Japan, learning martial arts, then probably relocating to the capital to study college (??) and get a job and become a wildlife officer then to join a freaking fighting tournament and become attracted to a man who's literally got the devil inside of him. Like if that does not scream adventurous to you then better read all that again. Miss girlie lived many lives lol. So I believe Jun being adventurous is not at all that oc, and it also adds to her fearless persona as it can be seen that she can manage change and foreign situations well (which also makes more sense how she even managed to bear with Kazuya)

Moving onto the more contemporary projections of Jun's personality as what I have observed in the mid 2010s to present fanfics. There's a theme in making her much more mature, kind of like someone who is very attuned to the ways of life. But despite that, they also show more of her humane side and her flaws (kind of like the opposite of how she's written in older fic works).

Now, I think this huge shift in how she's interpreted is because of the Tekken 6 monologue wherein Kazuya talks briefly about Jun. Then we also have Jun in TTT2. Lastly, I think Tekken Bloodline also played a role in solidifying this mature Jun personality (but to be fair tho, Jun's already a mother who's been raising her 15 year old son as a single parent on that show. I guess it's just appropriate that she becomes mature).

Anyway, I'm on this talk because all the interpreted Jun personality varies a lot and kind of clashes with one another. I only ever just realized how much I know nothing about Jun when I tried writing kazujun fanfics and realized how Jun's internal monologue keeps on having tone changes as if she isn't one person. Kinda felt like my interpretation of her is influenced by all the aforementioned personalities that I have observed in fanfics, but they all kinda clash so I need to straighten this out and try to flesh her out more so I can continue writing my drafts.

However, I do find it interesting that although the fandom really isn't given that much information about Jun, it's still very entertaining to see how different people would write and play her out in fanfics.

Tekken 8 better deliver a backstory about Jun hopefully, and also some good storytelling as well. Supporters of the franchise are long overdue with quality storytelling that provides answers to the many mysteries that surround Tekken. Most especially Jun because of her disappearance.

#kazama jun #jun kazama #kazujun #kazjun #kazuya x jun

[acacia-may]

There Is Happiness (OMORI Kelbrey Fanfiction)

Description: Aubrey hadn’t always been this way. She could still remember a younger, less jaded version of herself who was actually excited about the idea of prom. A happier Aubrey who had used to giggle with Mari over the gowns in store catalogs and dream about all of her friends getting dressed up and going dancing together one day. A more innocent Aubrey who used to spend hours making plans for a future that would never get to happen. Her friends never got to go to a prom, and neither did she…Until now that is...

OR

Nearly a decade after the bad ending of OMORI, Kel and Hero plan a fake "prom" to surprise Sally, drudging up bittersweet memories for Aubrey about her friends--both the ones she had lost and, especially, the ones, who like her, had been left behind to pick up the pieces. Will confronting the past lead her to a brighter future?

Kelbrey Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, & How Their (Functional) Relationship Developed Over Time After the Bad Ending of OMORI. (Note: This is a standalone one shot that is a completely different bad end AU than my other really angsty bad end AU fic).

Relationships: KELBREY (Romantic Kel x Aubrey) CENTRIC (Functional, Healthy, Slow Burn Kelbrey). There are also important platonic friendships discussed & depicted in flashbacks: Aubrey & Hero & Kel friendship, Aubrey & Kel & Sally friendship, Aubrey & Mari friendship, Aubrey & Kel & Sunny & Basil & Hero & Mari friendship [Aubrey & Kel's friendships with Basil, Sunny, & Mari are a recurring & important theme]. Past Romantic Hero x Mari is referenced/heavily implied.

Characters: Aubrey (POV Character), Kel, Hero, Sally, and Mari (Sunny & Basil also appear briefly and are mentioned).

Genre: Slow Burn Romance, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Developing Romance Through the Years, Angst With A Hopeful Ending, Post-Bad Ending, Many Flashback Sequences, Prom

Word Count: 12,748

Rating: T for some heavy themes and thematic elements (i.e. grief & healing from grief and trauma. Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death & Implied/Referenced Mental Health Issues including depression & suicide).

Warnings: Major Spoilers for OMORI! Heavy themes and thematic elements (i.e. grief & healing from grief and trauma. Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death & Implied/Referenced Mental Health Issues including depression & suicide). Kissing.

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another website.

A/N: Unfortunately, I missed Kelbrey Week because I did not know the ship even existed at the time (and had never played OMORI back in the dark ages of a couple of months ago), but I saw the prompts on Tumblr and was really inspired by the Prom prompt. Not only did the idea of "Kelbrey Prom" get a bunch of wheels turning in my brain, it also just so happened to be the prompt on my birthday, so I felt like it was it was just meant to be and I needed to write this story as soon as I had the idea. So I just wanted to offer a word of many, many thanks to @kelbreyweek for the prompt & inspiration for this story. 💕

Story below the cut. Thank you for reading!

Aubrey slammed her foot on the brake. She had lived in Faraway Town her whole life and still forgot about that stop sign. She probably always would.

The intersection was bustling today, and there was far more traffic than usual for a Saturday night. Aubrey supposed that was to be expected seeing as it was their local high school’s prom tonight, and the streets and sidewalks were filled with gussied-up teenagers in suits and poofy, colorful dresses. Aubrey rolled her eyes, conveniently ignoring the fact that she was in a pink prom dress herself—but at the very least it wasn’t that poofy.

Aubrey didn’t understand all the prom hype, especially now that she was trying to drive with teens darting in and out of the road and the straps of her dress uncomfortably digging into her arms whenever she tried to turn her steering wheel. She sighed. She sounded like such a grouchy old woman.

She hadn’t always been like that. The memories were hazy now, but she could still remember a younger less weathered, less jaded version of herself who was actually excited about the idea of prom.

*-*-*

“They’re so lucky,” sighed Aubrey glancing up from her pizza to watch the group of teenagers who had just walked into Gino’s dressed up in their finest suits and prettiest dresses for the prom.

Mari chuckled but patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. That’ll be you too soon enough.”

“It’ll be you sooner,” Aubrey insisted with a widening smile. “You’ll get to go in just a couple of years, right?” She paused, then giggled teasingly. “With Hero.”

Hero’s face flushed, and he grew suddenly interested in his piece of pizza. Mari’s expression softened—something affectionate passing over her eyes as she chuckled at him behind her hand. She shrugged her shoulders then teased, “I don’t know. I might have to think about it,” but she winked at him and the blush in his cheeks deepened.

“Why do you even need a date to the prom anyway? Can’t you just go with your friends?” asked Kel as he practically shoveled pizza into his mouth.

Aubrey rolled her eyes and huffed. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth. It’s so gross.”

“You’re gross,” bantered Kel, sticking his tongue out at her before shoving the rest of his piece of pizza into his mouth.   

Aubrey huffed again, but Hero gently interrupted changing the subject. “I think people do go to prom in groups with their friends. You don’t have to take a date like in the movies.” He paused before turning to his brother with a dry, bantering smile. “But if you want someone to take you, I’m sure Kel can.”

“No way! I’m not going to the prom with her. Basil can take her.”

“Wha—what? Why me?” stumbled Basil, bright red in the face.

“Because they always have those flower bracelets at the prom in the movies and you know all about flowers and stuff.”

“That’s called a corsage, moron,” bantered Aubrey. “And don’t worry, I’d rather go to prom with Hector than you.”

With a confused tilt of his head, Kel blinked at her. “Can we take dogs to prom? Awesome!” Kel beamed, and Aubrey rolled her eyes. “I’ll take Hector then, and Basil can take Aubrey.”

Basil’s blush deepened as he twisted his hands. “Well…um…I mean…” He paused, swallowing hard. “Well…maybe Sunny can take you…? He’s probably better at dancing.”

“Sunny will take you,” agreed Mari with a warm smile. “Won’t you, Sunny?”

Sunny pursued his lips together and pensively stared at his hands. Aubrey wasn’t sure but his face seemed a little more flushed than usual. He finally nodded briskly and quietly said, “Okay” though he wouldn’t look up from his plate.

Mari’s smile widened, and she chuckled. “See, problem solved.”

“I don’t understand why we can’t just all go to prom together,” sighed Kel. “You, me, Sunny, Basil, and Hector, and Hero and Mari too even though they’ll be older. We can all just go as friends.”

“That sounds nice,” said Sunny so quietly he was difficult to hear over the low roar and ruckus of the restaurant patrons.

“See!” exclaimed Kel triumphantly. “Sunny agrees with me. We should all just plan to go together as friends.”

“You might change your mind when you get older, Kel,” teased Hero with a dry but affectionate smile. Kel grimaced, sticking his tongue out at his older brother.

“No way!” He huffed then turned to Basil. “You think this sounds like a good idea, right Basil?”

“Wha—what? Oh…uh…yeah okay…” he stammered unsurely.

“Aubrey?”

Kel crossed his arms and glared at her, but Aubrey sighed and conceded, “Alright, but only because Sunny likes the idea. It might be nice for all of us to go as friends, but if I get a date, he’s coming with us too, okay?”

Mari started laughing behind her hand as Kel exaggeratedly rolled his eyes and huffed, “Whatever.”

*-*-*

A bittersweet smile tugged at Aubrey’s mouth. How silly they were then—how innocent. There was a pang in her chest, even now, so many years later as she remembered how they had spent hours together talking and laughing—making plans for a future that would never get to happen. She remembered how she used to giggle with Mari over the evening gowns in department store catalogs, sighing wistfully at the billboards advertising that year’s prom theme at the local high school, and dreaming of the day they’d get to go to one themselves. Aubrey’s chest ached as she sighed. Mari never got to go to a prom, and neither did she…

*-*-*

Tears prickled in Aubrey’s eyes as she glanced over the unworn prom dress still hanging up on the back of the closet door. She would probably feel better if she just shoved it into the back of her closet, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She had worked so hard for that dress—picking up extra shifts at Gino’s to afford such a luxury. She had justified it by reminding herself it was probably the only time in her life that she would get to wear such a dress, and this one was exactly what she had always dreamed: deep pink, floor-length chiffon. As soon as she saw it in the department store, a real, genuine smile had tugged at her mouth for the first time in so long that the sensation had felt almost foreign to her. And when she had finally bought the dress and tried it on for her friends to see, Charlene had quietly said she looked happy in it. She didn’t need to add that Aubrey hadn’t looked happy for a very long time.

A tear streamed down Aubrey’s cheek. She had wanted to wear that dress and go to the prom, but she just couldn’t—not today. Not now. Not without them.

Aubrey sniffled—rubbing her hand across her throbbing forehead. Her headache was so severe that she was actually starting to hear the pounding of her head. Or at least she thought she was until her mother called in a slurred, irritated voice,   

“Aubrey! Get the door.”

Aubrey quickly wiped her eyes and scurried downstairs.

“Tell them whatever they’re selling we don’t want it,” her mother added with a dismissive wave of her hand as Aubrey walked by the couch carefully tiptoeing around the empty liquor bottles which littered the ground.

Aubrey wasn’t sure who was at their front door, but she doubted a salesman would be bothering them at this time of night. Still she mumbled, “Okay” as she turned the bolts of the lock and opened the door.

“Hey, Aubrey,” said Kel with a slight wave of his hand and a friendly smile. “How’s it going?”

Aubrey could only blink at him. He was dressed in a nice, dark suit with an unexpected bright pink tie. If she had been feeling better, she probably would’ve thought of a dry quip to tease him about it but instead she just sighed, ushering him out onto the porch before her mother got irritated by the noise.

“Kel, what are you doing here?” she asked through her teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be at prom?”

Kel shrugged. “I was there for a while, but you weren’t there so I thought I’d come check on you.”

“Sorry…”—Aubrey’s face flushed—“I tried to call you…”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I got your message. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…I…uh…wasn’t feeling up to it.” Aubrey sighed, hoping that Kel wouldn’t read too much into it.

“Oh…are you feeling sick? The pharmacy should still be open. I can run down to—”

“No, Kel,” she cut him off, placing her hand on his arm. “That is…uh…I’m fine. You should go back to the prom. I don’t want to ruin your night.”

Kel’s expression softened, and he smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it. The prom was kind of boring without you anyway.” He paused. “You sure you don’t want to—?”

“Yeah,” she cut him off just a little too forcefully, trying her best to frown despite her flushed face.

“Okay…” he said quietly. “Then…do you mind if I hang out here for a little while?”

Aubrey’s face grew warm with guilt and embarrassment. Just because she had ruined her own night didn’t mean she had to ruin Kel’s as well. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“Nah. I want to. I’d rather spend tonight with you than at the dumb prom anyway.”

“Kel, I can’t let you do that,” she insisted, but he smiled at her.

“It’s just a bunch of people dancing and stuff—and sure that’s fun and all but it’s not as cool as everyone acts like it is.” He shrugged his shoulders. “They did hang all these Christmas lights from the ceiling though and that was kinda cool—since the theme is ‘A Night Under the Stars.’” Sighing, Kel took a seat on the porch—leaning back on his hands and looking up at the sky. “But there are real stars out here which are better anyway.”

“Kel…” Aubrey began to argue, but she wasn’t sure what to say. “You can’t just miss your prom.”

“Sure I can,” he shrugged with matter-of-fact nonchalance. “You are, aren’t you? And the prom always mattered way more to you. You were really looking forward to it…” Kel’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Did someone break your heart or something so you didn’t want to come anymore?”

Aubrey stifled a breathy chuckle but shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. I wasn’t even planning on going with a date.” She paused, glancing over at Kel’s pink tie. “Won’t your date be upset that you left?”

“Oh uh…” chuckled Kel awkwardly, fidgeting with his tie. “I didn’t go with one.”

“Really?” The question slipped out before Aubrey could think to stop it, but Kel just shrugged his shoulders.

“Yep.” He paused and sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “To tell you the truth, I—I kind of wanted to ask this one girl, but it didn’t work out. Oh well…”

Aubrey paused. While he was one of her best friends, they never really discussed their love lives or lack thereof. She didn’t even know Kel was romantically interested in anyone and couldn’t even begin to guess who it was. She supposed it was none of her business, but if Kel had left prom early because of this girl rather than just to check on her, it would certainly help her feel better about things.

“Is she the reason you left?” asked Aubrey taking a seat next to him on the porch.

Kel froze, and his cheeks flushed. “Wha—what?” he stumbled, more awkward than she ever would’ve expected from the happy-go-lucky Kel. He chuckled lightly but didn’t say no.

“It’s okay if she is. I wasn’t going to tease you or anything. I just—” She stopped. “I just don’t want to you miss out,” she said in a shaky voice. “Especially not because of me.”

“I already said don’t worry about it. I’d rather spend prom night with you, even if we don’t actually go to the prom.” Aubrey’s mouth twitched, she could almost hear the smile in his voice, but she frowned with a heavy sigh.

“But you already missed the last one…”

“Because Basil—” Kel’s voice cracked. He didn’t finish that statement, but he didn’t have to. Basil had died just a few weeks before their Junior Prom and the last thing either of them had wanted to do was go to some big party, especially one that Basil should have been attending himself, and instead they had spent prom night at the spot in the park where they had always had picnics with their friends, then sitting around Kel’s kitchen table looking through Basil’s old photo albums.

Aubrey had never told Kel that she had been considering skipping prom months before Basil’s death anyway, too saddened by the idea of having to go without Sunny and of Mari having never been able to go to hers. Basil’s death and the note he left behind for them was the final straw. She wouldn’t have blamed Kel if he had still wanted to go himself, but he had told her he was just too sad. She could understand that. Back then, it really felt like neither of them would ever be happy again.

But this year… she had been so determined, so set on going and trying to have to good time because she knew her friends wouldn’t want her to miss out on it on their account. Aubrey’s insides twisted, and her eyes burned, tears prickling behind them again.

“Aubrey?” When she turned to look at him, the faint flush of red had faded from his cheeks and his expression had softened but a look of concern quickly passed over his eyes. “Have you been crying?”

Aubrey’s face grew hot, and she swallowed hard as she frantically swiped at her eyes again. How red and puffy were they that Kel had noticed? “You can’t just ask someone that, Kel,” she replied with a shaky, bantering huff, but Kel only blinked at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, and Aubrey bit her lip. She couldn’t believe him—skipping over the ‘are you sure you’re okay?’ questions and straight to the ‘do you want to talk?’ Aubrey sighed though she felt a blush fill her cheeks and she fidgeted. She should probably expect it by now, given how many deep conversations she and Kel had been having over the past two years ever since Sunny and Basil had passed away. Her chest ached at the thought. Kel was giving her that look now—like he could see right through her, knew something was wrong and knew she was hurting even if she didn’t have the words to say it. She could see his pain too—that hollowness that crept into his smiles, that bittersweet sadness in his eyes. Kel’s eyes reflected the same pain that ached in her chest whenever she thought of Mari or Sunny or Basil. She was sure he could see his own grief in her as well, and perhaps that’s what had led them to find each other in the first place, in the wake of the loss of their friends—clinging to each other like two lost souls, sharing things with each other they could never even begin to tell anyone else.

“You can talk to me,” he gently encouraged her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Aubrey took a deep breath. She didn’t know if she wanted to unpack this, and she certainly didn’t want to dump it all onto Kel. She already felt guilty enough that he had left the prom to check up on her. But the look on Kel’s face was so warm and so kind, and the words, the painful truth was eating away at her waiting to be told to someone.

“You remember how we’d all promised we’d go to prom together someday?”

Kel’s brow furrowed. “Not really, but my memories of everyone are getting fuzzy…” There was a painful sadness cutting through his words as he said them.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t a big moment or anything. We were just at Gino’s joking around about it once, after a group of teenagers dressed for prom came in.” She paused. “You said you wanted to bring your dog.”

“Oh yeah…” said Kel with the slight twitch of a smile. “I remember that now. Mari was teasing Hero about taking her someday, and Sunny agreed with me that it would be nice if all of us could go together as friends.” Sighing, Kel paused—something bittersweet passing over his eyes. “You’re sad you couldn’t go with them, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question.

Aubrey sniffled and nodded, and Kel cut her off reaching out to her. “Oh Aubrey, I…”

“It’s not just that. I was actually planning on going. I wanted to go. I bought a dress and everything. I knew it was going to be a hard day, but I was determined to do this. I knew they wouldn’t want me to miss out—would’ve wanted to me to go, even if I was sad they couldn’t be there with me.” Her voice cracked, and Kel nodded solemnly, understandingly.

“But…but…” she stumbled over her words as her eyes burned. “I was out of hairspray and knew I needed some for tonight, so I was riding my bike down to The Other Mart, and I saw there was a group of kids in the park and…” The tears started to pool in Aubrey’s eyes, and she took a deep, shaky breath, barely managing to choke out, “They were making flower crowns…”

She swiped at the tears that began to splash down her cheeks as she stumbled in the bits and pieces of sentences she could manage despite the panging ache in her chest, “I just—I just froze. I…I couldn’t stop thinking about…I turned around and came straight home and I just haven’t been able to stop crying…” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I know it’s so silly…to let something like that ruin my whole day, especially when it’s the prom, but I just started thinking about them and how they never got to go to prom and all the things they never got to do and will never get to do and…” Her voice trailed, as her words got choked by a sob in the back of her throat.

“I know,” sighed Kel quietly, giving her a reassuring pat on the back and pulling her into a hug. Aubrey took a few deep shaky breaths as she pressed her chin to Kel’s shoulder.

“It’s so stupid…” she mumbled, angry with herself as she pulled away from him.

“It’s not stupid at all.” He sighed heavily. “You know the other day I was supposed to be picking up a couple of groceries for my mom, and I was in that aisle in The Other Mart where they keep all the soups and sauces and stuff, and there was this lady there with her kids and the one kid dropped this big jar of spaghetti sauce—made a huge mess”—he paused as his breath hitched—”And I remembered that time we all tried to make spaghetti to surprise Hero, and I dropped the jar on the counter and the sauce splattered everywhere—it got in Basil’s hair and… Sunny was blinking at me with sauce all over his face and you were so mad but Mari just laughed…” He paused, swallowing hard. “It was like I couldn’t breathe. I ran out of there—totally forgot about the groceries.”

“Kel…” Aubrey began as she hugged him more tightly.

“I guess the moral of the story is neither one of us should be going shopping at the Other Mart, huh?” Kel chuckled lightly, but he sniffled and Aubrey could feel his shoulders trembling like he was trying not to cry.

They just sat there holding each other for a long time. No words were spoken, but they didn’t have to be. They understood—shared this pain of being the ones left behind. Kel sniffled, and Aubrey wondered if he was crying. It wouldn’t be the first time he had cried in front of her, and she knew—they both probably knew—that it wouldn’t be the last.

“You know, sometimes I think, I’m okay,” Kel managed in a wavering voice. “I still miss them, of course, but I’m not going to just start crying in the grocery store…but then…something like that happens and I just…I don’t know if I’m ever going to be okay. Like there was this whole life that I had before, but it’s all over and now I have this new life and even if things get better and it doesn’t hurt as much all the time, that sadness is always going to be there. There’s always going to be something missing, and I’m never going to not miss them.”

Aubrey sniffled and pulled away from him to look in his face, but that deep, indescribable pain in his misty eyes made her forget her words. She supposed it didn’t really matter. There was nothing she could possibly say that would make him feel better—she knew that better than anyone.

“Sorry,” he said hurriedly as he wiped his tears away. “I didn’t mean to make this about me. I feel really bad for dumping all that on you, especially when you were already upset.”

“No. I’m…I’m glad you told me, Kel,” she said hugging him again. “It’s…nice to know I’m not the only one…”

“You’re definitely not the only one—but it really does feel like you and me against the world sometimes, right?”

A kind, bittersweet smile pulled at the corners of Aubrey’s mouth as Kel wrapped an arm around her and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Sometimes.”

“Hero too, but…” Kel paused, fidgeting. Aubrey nodded in understanding. He didn’t have to explain. She knew Hero worried especially about his younger brother which made it more difficult to open up to him about all of this sometimes, plus he was away at school and neither one of them wanted to bother him, especially when he was suffering a lot on his own.

“He missed his prom, too, didn’t he?” asked Aubrey quietly, changing the subject. Kel hummed, and she could feel him nod in response.

“But it’s overrated anyway…”

*-*-*

Kel was probably right, and the prom was overrated. That didn’t mean that she didn’t have the occasional regret about not going to hers, however. It wasn’t something she ever really talked about, but if she didn’t know better she would have thought that the fact she had skipped out on hers was part of the reason that Kel had invited her over tonight for the “prom” he and Hero had been putting together to surprise their younger sister, Sally.

Even though Sally was far too young to go to a prom, she was fairly vocal about the fact that she desperately wanted to. Though Aubrey thought it was a little odd to throw a prom for a little kid, she supposed there was no harm to it, and it was sweet that Hero and Kel were always trying to do such nice things for their little sister. She had also offered to help put it all together though she reminded Kel that she had never actually been to a prom so what would she possibly know about it? He said it wasn’t anything too fancy, but still insisted they should all dress up nicely. Just luckily Aubrey had had her unused prom dress from her own senior prom still hanging up in the back of her closet collecting dust. She supposed it was nice to finally get the chance to wear it, even if that meant getting stuck in stop-and-go traffic for half an hour.

Aubrey sighed. There was never any traffic on the way to prom in the movies. The people just got into their car—or their limo—and whipped right to the school without another car on the road. It was more than little unfair. Though she supposed she should know better than thinking of movies, especially teen rom coms, as real life.

*-*-*

“Okay, okay. I know we watch this movie every year, but I still don’t understand: can everybody at this school afford a limo? And where do the limos go when they’re all at prom?” asked Kel between bites of what had to be his third or fourth piece of birthday cake. Hero had been apologizing profusely for the fact it was store bought this year, but they understood he was extremely busy in medical school. They tried to reassure him that Mari would understand too, but Aubrey wasn’t sure if he had believed them. “How do all the limos even fit in the parking lot?”

“I don’t know, Kel,” Aubrey sighed, setting her piece of cake on the coffee table. “Just don’t think about it too much.”

“Listen, I went to prom—well part of it, and nobody came in a limo. Nobody,” Kel insisted forcefully, gesturing emphatically at her with his fork and flinging cake and frosting onto her face.

Aubrey huffed. “Kel!”

“Oh, you’ve got something on your nose,” he teased before playing poking at it with his finger.

“Here’s some napkins,” said Hero, handing her a stack of napkins with that said ‘Happy Birthday’ surrounded by balloons.

“Thank you.” Aubrey nodded at Hero then rolled her eyes at Kel shaking her head, but his attention was transfixed on the movie again, probably still wondering about the limos.

Aubrey sighed. Every year they watched Mari’s favorite movie for her birthday, and every year Kel found something else about it that didn’t make sense to him. Last year, it was how nobody in the school had worn anything even close to the same outfit. The year before that it was how the main character who was supposed to be smart hadn’t ever questioned her love interest’s obviously complicated motivations in asking her to the prom in the first place. This year it was the limos.

Aubrey sometimes wondered if Kel had only started this tradition of chattering away during the movie in the hopes that it would keep her and Hero’s spirits up and prevent them from being too sad that Mari wasn’t there to celebrate her birthday with them. But other times—like now, when she watched him pick up his piece of cake with his hands and shove it into his mouth as the icing squished into his face, she thought it was probably more likely that it was just Kel being Kel.

A smile tugged her lips in spite of herself, but she pushed the thought away. She’d never admit that she was glad Kel was around to ask dumb questions about the movie, and as she watched the small smile in the corners of Hero’s mouth, she was sure he felt the same way.

When the credits began to roll, Hero started cleaning up the cake, plates, and napkins, and Kel started prattling away again. “Why do movies make prom into such a big deal, anyway? They act like it’s the most important thing that will ever happen to you.”

“Well…” Hero sighed, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. “I think they need a climatic moment for the story, and when the characters are teenagers, they can’t have a wedding or something like that so they use the prom.”

“It’s really not as cool as all that though. I was honestly kind of let down.” Kel’s mouth curved into a teasing, lopsided grin before he chuckled, seemingly getting distracted once again by his cake. “This cake was great, by the way!”

“You can thank Aubrey for that. She picked it up from Nona’s.”

Aubrey shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I was in there anyway.” She stopped, not quite ready to admit that she was in that bakery a lot. It was one of her favorite places in their college town, and she liked to treat herself with a pastry every now and again after exams, if she did well on them of course.

“Sorry I couldn’t make one this year…” Hero apologized again with red, apologetic cheeks. “Neuroanatomy is just kicking my tushie.”

Aubrey and Kel broke into raucous laughter. “Your tushie? Really, Hero?” teased Kel.  

“What are you—five?” Aubrey bantered.

“You know what I mean,” sighed Hero. Though his cheeks were flushed, he was smiling in spite of himself. “Medical school is hard.” He sighed again. “I’m sure Aubrey understands being in nursing and all.”

“I’m glad I’m going to be a nurse and not a doctor—there’s too much memorizing. I’m not smart enough for that.”

“Don’t say that, Aubrey,” chimed Kel. “You and Hero are both super smart—you know all kinds of medical stuff. I could never do what you do.”

“Well I’m sure neither of us could ever do what you do either, Kel,” Aubrey insisted, and Hero nodded in agreement. “You can fix anything, and I wouldn’t even know what to do with a welding torch if my life depended on it.”

Kel chuckled his face brightening. “I can show you sometime if you want. It’s really not that hard.”

“Says the ‘Welder of the Year,’” bantered Aubrey.  

“It was only ‘of the month,’ and…”  

“I still have the newsletter hanging up on our refrigerator,” interjected Hero with a proud smile. Kel scratched the back of his neck as his face flushed.

“You can take that down, you know? It’s really not that big of a deal…” He sighed. “I only fix engines and stuff. I don’t save lives or anything like you guys.”

Aubrey sighed, shaking her head. “I’ve never saved a life.”

“I’ve barely even left my classroom,” said Hero. “So you’ve at least got one up on me. You’re in clinicals now, aren’t you?”

Aubrey nodded. “Yeah. I’m trying to get a job as a student nurse too. I just interviewed in behavioral health and psychiatry.”

She stopped abruptly as Kel and Hero’s eyes widened, a certain sadness in them that Aubrey had used to see all the time but which hadn’t been in their expressions in a while. A silence spread through the room, and Aubrey sighed, wishing she hadn’t mentioned it. She was about to apologize for bringing it up and ruining the mood of everyone’s evening, but then she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders and a gentle hand patting her back.

“That’s great, Aubrey,” said Kel with a kind smile and soft expression. “I hope you get it and help a lot of people.”

“Me too,” said Hero. “I think you’ll be great at that.”

“Thanks,” Aubrey mumbled, her face feeling suddenly warm.

“Well, I think this deserves a toast.” Kel stood up from his seat and poured some cups of coffee from the coffee maker for them.

Aubrey quirked an eyebrow at him. “We’re toasting coffee?”

“Yes,” he answered, completely unphased as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He held up his coffee cup. “To Aubrey, soon to be ‘World’s Greatest Nurse.’”

He winked at her, and Aubrey shook her head but bantered, holding up her own cup, “And to Kel—Welder of the Year,”

“Would you stop it with that?” he teased under his breath as a flush of red filled his cheeks. He shook his head and turned to Hero. “And to Hero—who can do anything!”

“And everything,” added Aubrey as Hero turned away from them blushing a bright red.

“You guys…” he mumbled.

“And let’s toast Mari too,” said Kel. “Happy Birthday, Mari!”

“Happy Birthday, Mari,” Hero and Aubrey replied with kind, bittersweet smiles.

As they took sips of their coffee, Aubrey’s lips puckered, and her face contorted as she resisted the urge to spit hers out. Even Hero grimaced.

“What in the world is this, Kel?” She reached for her water to try to rinse out the taste.

“Oh you’re never gonna believe it, but Orange Joe makes ground coffee now.”

“Why?” groaned Aubrey.

“You really should warn us first,” Hero quipped dryly with a slight smile, but Kel just shrugged.

“What? I thought it was pretty good.”

“I don’t know how you drink this garbage. It tastes like rotten oranges,” Aubrey bantered. “It would’ve been better if we toasted with broccoli juice or something.”

“I have some soda in the pantry. Let’s just use that.” Hero, always the peace-maker, got up from his seat and made his way to the kitchen with a gentle smile. Once he was gone, Kel finished off his cup of coffee and turned to her with a soft expression in his eyes.

“Hey Aubrey?”

“Yeah?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“I think it’s really great that you want to be a psych nurse and everything.”

Aubrey sighed. “I don’t know if it’ll work out, Kel. I mean I just interviewed so…”

“It’ll work out,” he cut her off with a reassuring smile. “I know it will, and when it does, I know you’re gonna be great. I…”—he paused and glanced away from her—"I think you’re really great—at everything.”

Aubrey’s cheeks grew warm from the compliment. “Thank you, Kel. I think you’re—”

She didn’t get to finish that thought, however, as Kel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into an unexpected but welcomed hug. Aubrey pressed her chin to his shoulder and gave him a pat on the back. She waited for him to let go of her, but he held her far longer than usual.

Finally, he whispered so quietly she almost couldn’t hear him. “Do a good job, okay? For all of us…”

Aubrey nodded. She contemplated pulling away from him, but he ran his hand through the ends of her long hair mumbling, “And Aubrey…Uh…I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” she shivered, in spite of herself.

“Uh…” he began again, and she could feel his hands begin to shake as they gently held onto her.

“Do you want diet or regular? I also have a few cherry—” Hero’s voice stopped abruptly. “Oh sorry… I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Kel and Aubrey quickly pulled away from each other. Aubrey could only hope she wasn’t blushing as much as she feared. Her cheeks burned, but she and Kel hurriedly talked over each other, reassuring Hero it was fine, and he wasn’t interrupting anything. Aubrey’s head reeled, but Kel seemed completely unphased, politely declining Hero’s soda and pouring himself another cup of Orange Joe.

As Kel stood up from his seat beside her on the sofa, Aubrey could have sworn that Hero shot her a knowing, somewhat teasing smile that made her stomach twist. She bit her lip and tried her best to push the thought away—nervously, reaching for her coffee cup in an attempt at nonchalance and unfortunately failing to remembered it was still full of Orange Joe until she had actually taken a sip. Aubrey grimaced at the bitter taste, but her cheeks burned as she watched Hero’s mouth twitched in the corners at her.

*-*-*

Aubrey wished she could say that was the last time she ever accidentally tried Orange Joe. It wasn’t, but both her and Hero did get much better at predicting whether or not Kel was trying to pawn the drink off onto them. It had a distinctively putrid citrusy odor that, eventually, made it much easier to identify. If she knew Kel, there would probably be a whole pitcher full of it at the “prom” he was putting together even though Hero had insisted multiple times that Sally was much too young for coffee.

It was nice to hear that Hero was going to get to come tonight, too. He had been so busy with his residency that they didn’t get to see too much of them these days. Even Kel who was his roommate said he was lucky if he occasionally managed to catch Hero as he was heading to the hospital when Kel himself was getting home from his third shift at the manufacturing plant where he worked. Hero promised them that he was happy, just very busy, and they respected his need for rest, even if it was starting to feel a little bit like her and Kel against the world again.

That reminded her, she ought to give him a call about the traffic—letting him know she was going to be late.

“Hey Kel,” she began, but his voice, muffled and staticky from what Aubrey presumed was a bad connection, cut her off.

“Hi Aubrey. What’s up?”

“Well, I’m on my way, but I’m stuck in traffic. You would not believe how many cars are out here right now.” Aubrey sighed wearily. “On their way to prom probably”

“Have you seen any limos?”

Aubrey laughed. “No, Kel. No limos. I really don’t think we even have those in Faraway Town.”

“That’s probably true.” He chuckled before changing the subject. “It’s no big deal if you’re late or anything. Just drive safely, and you can let yourself in through the fence to the backyard.”

“Oh, are you having it outside?”

Kel hummed. “Yeah, it was such a nice night that I thought it would be fun to dance out on the porch and stuff. I’ve been practicing my dancing, and I think I’m a lot better than the last time you danced with me so…”

Aubrey’s face grew suddenly hot, but she took a deep breath, trying and failing not to think of the last night Kel had danced with her…

*-*-*

“Okay, explain to me again how you came to win dancing lessons?” quipped Aubrey, quirking an eyebrow at Kel, but he merely shrugged at her.

“Well I bought a bunch of raffle tickets because I wanted this ceramic chicken.” He paused before adding hurriedly with a sheepish smile, “And, you know, to support the hospital and everything too.”

Aubrey sighed and shook her head, but Kel didn’t seem to notice. It was very nice of Kel to come with her to her hospital’s charity benefit. They were raising money to build a new wing which would mean more beds in the juvenile behavioral health ward where she worked as a nurse. She had told Kel that the gala was mostly for the really big donors, and she was just inviting him for his company so he shouldn’t feel obligated to donate anything. Even so, it was sweet of him to try to buy some raffle tickets for some of the less expensive items.

A smile twitched in the corners of her mouth. It was just like Kel to do something thoughtful like that—especially for a dumb reason like wanting a ceramic chicken he could probably buy for himself half-as-cheap at a local home goods store.

“I was going to put all the tickets in the drawing for the basket with the chicken,” Kel prattled on. “But then some of the other people were giving me these weird looks, so I started to put them in the drawing for some of the other raffle baskets too, and I guess I won the one with the dancing lessons.” With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Kel frowned disappointedly. “Didn’t win the chicken though. I was pretty bummed about that.”

“What would you even do with a ceramic chicken?” Aubrey teased dryly.

“I don’t know, but I’d probably get more use out of it than dance lessons.”

A chuckle escaped Aubrey’s mouth as she barely stifled a laugh—turning back to the stove where she was frying some potatoes as they waited for the lasagna they were making for dinner to be finished cooking in the oven. It wouldn’t be nearly as good as Hero’s, but he was far too busy with his residency to cook for even himself these days. They were making this meal to surprise him when he got home and to celebrate his first weekend off in months.

“Do you want to take them with me?” asked Kel as he absent-mindedly stirred the pudding they were making for dessert.

Aubrey tilted her head at him. “The dance lessons?”

“Yeah. It’s for two people, and I didn’t really know who else to bring.”

“What about Hero?” She didn’t realize how silly that suggestion sounded until Kel laughed.

“Hero is a great dancer already, and he’s super busy right now anyway.”

With a conceding shrug of her shoulders, Aubrey sighed. “Isn’t there someone else you’d rather bring, Kel?”

“Nope,” he replied immediately, clearly not understanding the meaning behind her words. “Why would there be?”

“Well…you know…some people think that dancing can have a more romantic connotation, so I was just thinking that if you were interested in someone you might want to bring…” Her voice trailed as she tilted her head confused and inquisitively at the unreadable expression on Kel’s face.

“Oh…uh…well…” Kel chuckled though he rubbed his hand sheepishly across the back of his neck. “Actually, I’d rather take you, but if you don’t want to come, you can just say...”

“It’s fine, Kel.” With a shrug, Aubrey stared down at the potatoes, put the lid over the pan, and turned the stove down to low heat so they could simmer. Her mouth twitched into a bantering smile. “I just meant, you should probably be careful going around asking other girls to go dancing with you. They might get the wrong idea.”

“Is it really that much of a romantic thing?” asked Kel blinking at her.

Aubrey shrugged again. “It is in the movies.”

“But that’s just the movies. They make everything romantic, especially when it doesn’t have to be. Like how they always make it seem like prom is the best night of your life or when the couple dances together there one time, they’re suddenly desperately in love forever.” Kel laughed, but Aubrey frowned.

“I didn’t mean it like—” She huffed, shaking her head. “And what would you know about prom anyway, you barely even went to ours?”

“I went to enough of it to know that it wasn’t super magical or anything, and yeah, I danced with a few girls, but it’s not like I’m just pining for them forever now.” Kel paused, chuckling to himself, and Aubrey’s face flushed but her brow furrowed. Was he making fun of her?

“That’s not the same thing. For some girls it’s different. They romanticize it in their heads”—she sighed—“not me but…”

“That’s because you’re a cynic,” teased Kel.

“And you’re a moron—especially if you think that another girl wouldn’t take your invitation to dancing lessons in a romantic way.”

Kel just shrugged and admitted, “I don’t get it.”

“Well…what if you had danced with that girl, the one you actually wanted to take as your prom date? Don’t you think that would’ve been special?”

“I didn’t get to dance with her—ever actually, but I don’t think it would’ve changed anything. A dance is just dance, isn’t it?” He tilted his head as a bantering smile tugged at his lips. “You’re acting like if I just started dancing with you right now, you’d—?”

“K—Kel?” Aubrey’s breath hitched as he slipped his arms around her waist. “What are you doing?”

“Proving a point,” he insisted with a shrug.

Aubrey huffed. “There isn’t even any music.”

“Oh.” Kel absentmindedly tilted his head before pulling out his phone, presumably choosing a song to play. As the song’s intro began to play, he set his phone on the counter and held out his hand to her.

“Can I have this dance?” he asked with a playfully melodramatic bow, and Aubrey sighed with a somewhat affectionate roll of her eyes.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Whatever will get you to focus on cooking again.”

Kel smiled brightly as he wrapped his arms around her waist again. As he met her eyes, she looked away abruptly—clearing her throat as she snaked her arms around his neck. He was so close to her. Her cheeks felt warm, and she swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. ‘It’s just Kel,’ she reminded herself.

He began swaying—Aubrey shook her head—off tempo with the music. “You really can use those dance lessons,” she teased though there was a certain, uncharacteristic shakiness that seeped into her words. She pursed her lips and mentally kicked herself. What was wrong with her all of a sudden?

She could almost feel Kel’s chuckle reverberating in his chest. “Yeah, well I guess it’s good I won them then.” He smiled at her, and as he met her eyes, Aubrey shuddered in spite of herself.

Kel pulled her closer to him—almost pressing his cheek against hers and began to quietly sing along to the music. Aubrey’s face flushed. Knowing Kel he probably wasn’t even aware that he was singing, but she could feel his warm breath, those affectionate words almost whispered in her ear. For the life of her she couldn’t even begin to guess why Kel had picked what was probably one of the most romantic songs in the universe. The slow crooning of the melody alone screamed romance, but there was so much devotion, so much longing in the lyrics—and to hear them in Kel’s voice... Aubrey inhaled sharply—hoping her face wasn’t nearly as red as she feared.

“How”—her voice hitched, and she pulled away from him—“How do you even know this song?”

Kel just shrugged. “Hero showed it to me. He likes all those old songs, you know? And I thought it would be good for this.” He paused. “Why? Do you like it?”

“It’s fine,” shrugged Aubrey though she found she couldn’t look at Kel for some reason.

When she finally met his gaze again, there was something so warm, so gentle in his expression, and his dark eyes seemed to glisten with an emotion that she couldn’t begin to describe but which made her heart pound all the same. He lifted his hand from her waist and gently pressed his palm to her cheek.

“If this was a movie, this is probably the point when I’d say something corny like…” Kel paused, blinking at her with heavy-lidded eyes before he continued with a gentle sincerity that made her breath catch in her throat, ”‘You are so beautiful.’” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and as his eyes fluttered closed, he sighed, “‘I’ve wanted this for a long time.’”

Aubrey swallowed hard. She tried to frown even though she was sure her face was bright red from that…that pining underscoring his voice. ‘This is just a game,’ she reminded herself—one that Kel seemed to be getting extremely into, but a game all the same. Still... the way his voice faltered, the earnestness in his eyes made it easy to forget.

“You’ve been watching too many romance movies with Hero…” she quipped, but her voice wavered.

Kel chuckled lightly. “Maybe…”

His hand softly stroked the side of her cheek until the tips of his long fingers began to tangle in her hair. She shivered as she took a long, shaky breath. His lips parted slightly as his mouth relaxed. She bit her lip and watched as Kel did the same.

“Aubrey…” he whispered as she tangled her trembling hand in the hair at the nape of his neck and gently pulled him towards her in slow, deliberate movements that didn’t feel like her own. His long, dark eyelashes fluttered. He was close enough to her now that she could almost feel them against her skin.

Her heart pounded. Her hands shook. He hovered in front of her mere inches away from her face. When he whispered her name again, she realized they had stopped dancing.

As Kel’s eyes fluttered closed, he tilted his head and cupped her face with his hands. His breath was warm against her skin, so close Aubrey could almost taste the coffee and citrus lingering from that awful Orange Joe he loved so much. As she began to lean closer to him, her hand curled around the unruly strands of his hair, and she pressed her palm to the back of his head—pulling him in. Closer. Closer.

He began to lean forward. That space between them was almost non-existent now. Aubrey froze—unable to move, unable to breath. Her heartbeat raced, and she could almost feel Kel’s heart pounding as he stopped, a breath away from her. She gripped the soft fabric of his shirt and shut her eyes tightly. Waiting. Waiting until…

BEEP! BEEP! The sound of the oven timer rang through the living room. Aubrey exhaled deeply though her cheeks flushed. What had just happened?

Kel startled, pulling away from her abruptly. “Oh! The lasagna!” he exclaimed with a bright smile, seemingly, completely unphased by what had just happened, by the fact that they had almost…

Aubrey inhaled sharply, then took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. She bit down hard on her lip. It was just a game to him. Of course it was.

“Alright fine, Kel…” she laughed it off with as much of a frown as she could muster as the music stopped. Her racing heartbeat and wavering tone of voice didn’t seemed to get the memo, however. “You’re right.”

His face beamed. “Seriously?” He chuckled, playfully poking her in the arm. “See, I told you that you didn’t miss out on anything at the prom.”

Aubrey sighed—willing that blush she could still feel in her face away. “Yeah… It’s just a dance—nothing necessarily romantic about that. But you know I agreed with you from the beginning, right? So don’t get too excited about it. I just meant a lot of other girls might get the wrong impression.��� ‘Especially if you dance with them like that,’ she mentally added, barely managing to stop herself before the words tumbled out of her mouth.

“Yeah, alright. You know, honestly, I actually kinda see your point now too.” Kel tilted his head and chuckled breathily though his expression was unreadable. Aubrey’s heart raced in spite of herself as she tried to push these thoughts, these feelings, whatever they were away for good.

*-*-*

Aubrey let out a long and heavy sigh. She could feel the blush in her cheeks even now just thinking about it. She hadn’t done a very good job of pushing the memory away. Even though they had never talked about that dance, about that almost-kiss ever again, Aubrey had mulled it over in her mind more times than she could count, until she could almost believe that she had been imagining things, that she had just gotten caught up in the music and dancing and that nothing had actually almost happened. But…—Aubrey sighed—the way he had looked at her…

She swallowed hard and pushed the thought away. This was Kel. Kel—dopey, happy-go-lucky Kel who used to eat spray cheese directly out of the can until she and Hero staged an intervention to ask him to stop and who once got a popsicle stick stuck up his nose because he wanted to see if he could touch his brain with it. Granted he was seven at the time, but still… this was Kel, and Kel was…was…

Aubrey sighed. Kel was sweet and thoughtful. He’d do anything to make his friends and family happy, and he loved making people laugh. He could make friends anywhere he went, and he always found things to smile about. And yeah, he could be awkward sometimes, airheaded, oblivious, and occasionally stubborn, but he had a big heart and even if his words didn’t always come out the way he wanted them to, she never doubted how much he cared. He was a great friend—her best friend, probably if she was being honest, but she wasn’t about to waste another minute of her life sitting around analyzing whether she may or may not have almost kissed him once. And she especially wasn’t going to sit around analyzing whether or not she should have or, worst of all, whether she had wanted to.

“You will dance with me again, won’t you?” asked Kel’s voice through the phone. “I gave those dancing lessons to my parents as a gift, but Hero was helping me practice a little bit, so I think I’ve gotten a lot better.”

“Uh…yeah…sure Kel…” stumbled Aubrey trying her best not to think anything of it.

“Okay, great! I’ve got to go now, but I’ll see you soon, okay? Bye.”

“…Bye…” mumbled Aubrey. She let out a long and heavy sigh, shaking her head and mentally kicking herself for getting so flustered about Kel of all people. It was nothing, clearly…given the way he could mention it so nonchalantly like that. She should just stop thinking about it and worrying that it was something that it wasn’t.

She pushed the thought away—trying her best to think about something else, anything else. What was everyone going to wear tonight? Sally would probably look adorable all dressed up in party dress or a costume if she wanted to be an actual princess—though Aubrey supposed Kel had specifically used the word “prom” rather than “ball” so Sally might not want a princess dress. Would Kel and Hero go all out and rent tuxes or just wear nice suits? Maybe Kel would bring back that bright pink tie from their prom…

Aubrey stopped. That tie. She hadn’t thought about it in years until it got brought up a couple of weeks ago when she and Kel were going shopping at the outlet mall with Sally.

*-*-*

“They’re so pretty,” Sally sighed wistfully with a little twirl as they passed some of the clothing racks filled with sparkly prom dresses. “I can’t wait ‘til I’m old enough to go to the prom.” She giggled and squeezed Aubrey’s hand. “What was it like? Did you get to wear a pretty dress like that, Aubbie?”

Aubrey smiled. Sally had given her that nickname years ago when she was a little toddler who struggled with her “r”s, and it made it happy to think that it had somehow stuck all these years. Her smile quickly faded however, as she awkwardly replied, “Well…Sally…I didn’t actually go to my prom.”

“Oh…” Sally’s eyes widened sadly, and she tilted her head. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she reassured her, giving her a gentle smile and a reassuring pat on the head. “Your brother went though—to part of it. He wore this bright pink tie.”

Kel laughed and playfully poked her in the arm. “You remember my tie?”

Aubrey’s face flushed, but she bantered. “It was kind of hard to forget. Why’d you pick a color like that anyway?”

“Oh uh…” Chuckling, he scratched the back of his neck. “I never told you?”

“No…” Aubrey quirked an eyebrow at him, but Sally giggled.

“I wanna hear about it.”

“Well, okay, just for you Sally,” Kel’s expression softened, but he shrugged his shoulders. “But I’m warning you, it’s…kind of silly now that I’m thinking about it…” He sighed. “There was this girl…She was really amazing. I wanted to ask her to prom, but I was really afraid she would say ‘no’ so I kind of chickened out. But she really liked pink so…I thought maybe she’d like that pink tie. Kind of silly, right?” He laughed it off, but his cheeks flushed.

“Did she like it?” asked Sally, curiously blinking up at her older brother.

Kel’s mouth curved into a smile, and—Aubrey blushed—she could have almost sworn he glanced over at her when he said, “Yeah. I think she did…”

“You know, you never told me—that girl, did she go with someone else?” The question slipped out before Aubrey could stop it. She had spent years wondering, worrying if she had ruined Kel’s prom with her own problems or if he was nursing a broken heart of his own that had nothing to do with her grief. It was probably selfish to be bringing it up now after all these years, but she couldn’t give up the opportunity to find out for sure if Kel would have left the prom early anyway, even if she had been there.

“Nope,” Kel shook his head with a sigh, and Aubrey swallowed hard.

“Did you get to dance with her, then?”

A smile twitched in the corners of Kel’s mouth—something unreadable but undeniably affectionate flashing across his eyes. “Eventually…”

“Was she a good dancer?” giggled Sally.

“Better than me.” Kel shrugged, but he reached out to take Sally’s hand and gave his sister a little twirl. “But I am getting better.”

He flashed Aubrey a teasing smile, and she shook her head at him as she stifled a laugh. She knew it was a sign that this conversation was over, but it nagged at the back of her brain for the rest of the day as they absentmindedly wandered from store to store, eventually stopping for soft pretzels at the food court and surprising Sally with a bright yellow bow for her hair. There was no more talk of prom.

When it started storming, they decided to call it a day and headed back to Faraway Town. It wasn’t long before Sally fell asleep in the back seat of her car, exhausted from the long and exciting day of shopping. Aubrey dreaded the silence left by the absence of Sally and Kel’s cheerful prattling, but she was grateful for the opportunity to focus on driving rather than on mulling Kel’s words over in her head. That guilt she had been feeling ever since he had had to skip out on their prom on her account was suddenly fresh again, gnawing at her, getting harder and harder to push away.

“Hey…uh…Aubrey? Are you okay?” asked Kel quietly enough so as not to wake up the napping Sally. “You’ve been kind of quiet…”

“Well Sally’s asleep Kel,” she replied with a tilt of her head as she glanced in her rearview mirror.

“Yeah, but I meant before that…Ever since we were in that department store…”

Aubrey took a deep breath and tried to muster a, “Yeah…I’m just…”

She stopped abruptly. Even if she didn’t take her eyes off the road, she could almost picture Kel’s reassuring smile, encouraging her that she could tell him anything. Maybe it would be best to ask him now when she didn’t have to look in his face...

Before she could decide, however, she pulled into the driveway of Kel’s parents’ house. Grabbing a nearby umbrella, Kel got out of the car and gently lifted a sleeping Sally, draping his jacket over her head so her face wouldn’t get wet from his attempts to carry her and the umbrella.

Kel fidgeted until he was shielding Sally completely with the umbrella, getting himself soaked in the process. Aubrey sighed and shook her head with a somewhat affectionate smile. He was going to be sopping wet by the time he got back to the car, but if Aubrey was being honest, she didn’t mind. It was sweet how much Kel cared about his sister. Aubrey supposed that was really just Kel—he always thought about everybody else and how to make them happy. He’d give a stranger his umbrella if they needed it, even if that meant he’d get himself soaked. It was something Aubrey admired most about him.

Her face felt suddenly warm, and she pushed the thought away, watching as Kel handed Sally off to his mom on the porch. She gave Aubrey a bright smile and a cheerful wave as Kel rushed back across yard. Aubrey waved back.

Sure enough, when Kel got back inside the car, he was dripping water. He ran his hand through his sopping hair.

“Sorry, Aubrey. I’ll clean it up when you drop me off,” he insisted with a sheepish smile, but Aubrey waved her hand.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just water.”

Chuckling, Kel’s mouth twitched into a lopsided grin, and he shrugged his shoulders, “Okay, now that Sally’s inside…what’s up? Something’s bugging you.”

“I’m fine,” Aubrey said, but she knew Kel knew her too well to believe that.

He sighed, a look of concern passing over his eyes. “Are you sure? Is it something I said…?”

“No…” She bit her lip. “It’s not you. It’s just…”

“You’ll feel better if you just tell me. I know you will,” he teased with a kind smile.

Aubrey huffed. He was right, of course, but she didn’t really want to admit that.

“Why did you leave our prom?”

Kel’s brow furrowed, and his eyes widened in confusion. “What?”

“You know…was it for that girl you wanted to take but didn’t end up asking or was it for…?” She stopped and cleared her throat.

“Well…actually…” Kel stumbled, his face flushing. Aubrey sighed guiltily. She didn’t mean to fluster him like this—it wasn’t fair.

“I just…I know it’s none of my business, and I feel bad asking but I just don’t want to be reason that you had to skip out on our prom, you know? So if you left because you were heartbroken or…”

“Oh,” Kel interrupted. Clearing his throat, he rubbed his hand across the nape of his neck. “Uh…I wasn’t heartbroken or anything, but…yeah, I did leave because of that girl—the one I wanted to ask…”

Aubrey sighed. She didn’t feel as relieved to hear this as she had always imagined she would. She felt almost…sad…

“Do you regret it?” she asked quietly, staring at her hands. “Leaving her there at the prom?”

“What?”

“You know, you could’ve stayed. You didn’t have to miss out on it, especially not to just waste the whole night sitting on my porch…” She cleared her throat though she twisted her hands around the steering wheel, staring intently at the swaying windshield wipers. “Do you ever wish that…things had been different?”

“I mean…I guess sometimes, maybe, but only to wish that you had been there and that everyone had been there to come with us.” Sighing bittersweetly, Kel paused. “Why? Do you?”

Aubrey sighed, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel even though the car was still parked. “Sometimes…” she admitted. “But for the same reason as you, I guess, and…” Her voice trailed, and she could feel Kel shift next to her.

“And what?”

“I’ve just…” Her face flushed as she took a deep breath. “I always felt guilty for making you miss it. I really am sorry about that.”

Kel chuckled lightly and placed his hand on her shoulder until she turned to look at him. “Aubrey, don’t worry about it. I already told you. I wanted to spend it with you.”

His smile was warm, and the look in his eyes was so tender that Aubrey’s hands began to shake as her cheeks blushed rose. She turned away from him, and he shrugged his shoulders and admitted, “I think about that night a lot, actually…in a good way. I don’t have regrets.”

He gently pushed a piece of hair out of her face, and Aubrey shivered but not from the cold and wet of the rain on his fingers. “Aubrey, I…There’s actually…” He stopped and pulled his hand away from her abruptly as water began to drip into her face. “Oh shoot. I’m sorry,” he stumbled, panicking over the damp streaks in her hair.

“It’s okay, Kel…” Aubrey sighed—politely failing to mention that his panicking over dripping water everywhere was just spraying water and making everything wetter. “Let’s just…get you home.”

“Okay…” Kel nodded, but his face was flushed. Aubrey was sure hers was bright red. She could only hope he wouldn’t notice.

*-*-*

Taking a deep breath, Aubrey parked her car on the street in front of Kel’s house. This was probably the worst possible thing she could have been thinking of right now. Why did she do this to herself?

She sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands before she composed herself, pushing all those thoughts away. She didn’t even know where they were coming from, and even if she did, now was definitely not the time to be thinking about any of that. She could almost guarantee that Kel certainly wasn’t. There was no way he was sitting around wondering what would have happened if the timer hadn’t gone off when they were dancing or if water hadn’t started to drip into her face when he was running his hand through her hair. These were just things Kel did without thinking—it didn’t mean anything more to him than that they were just friends, so why should it mean anything more to her? And…perhaps more importantly, why would she even want it to? Why would she want affection for him that would never be returned?  

Her shoes clicked across the pavement as she made her way down the sidewalk and up the driveway to the house where Kel lived with his brother, at least until Hero finished his final year of residency and paid off enough student loans to afford his own place. There was the faint sound of music echoing from the backyard and lights shimmering from what she assumed was probably their decorated porch. As soon as she walked through the gate to the yard, however, she realized she was wrong. There was a beautiful trellis canopy covered in Christmas lights with twinkling icicle lights hanging from the ceiling—underneath it was Hero’s record player, playing classic love songs.

Aubrey froze just staring at it—how it beautiful it was. She didn’t even notice Kel until he chuckled beside her.  

“Aubrey, you made it!” He paused, his expression softening. “You look beautiful. I’m glad I finally got to see your prom dress.”

Aubrey’s face flushed, and she curled her toes in her shoes both at the compliment,  and at the fact that Kel didn’t look too shabby himself dressed in his dark suit with combed hair and shiny dress shoes. “You look nice too, Kel. I see you’re wearing that tie—” she tried to tease him, but her voice cracked. Kel, however, just chuckled lightly.

“Oh yeah…well, you know…” With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he paused fidgeting with the bright pink tie around his neck. “Do you like it?”

Aubrey somehow managed a playful roll of her eyes. “It’s great, Kel.”

“I got you this,” he exclaimed excitedly, holding out a plastic container with a corsage inside.

“Wow, thank you,” she stumbled as he helped her slip it onto her wrist. “You really did go all out, huh?”

Kel hummed and nodded enthusiastically, but Aubrey’s brow furrowed as she glanced around. “So, uh…where are Hero and Sally?”

A faint flush of rose filled Kel’s cheeks. “Oh. Uh…well…about that. They’re not here.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t really a lie,” he tripped over his words. “I was just trying to surprise you, but I…I didn’t do this for Sally…”

As he met her eyes, Aubrey shivered and swallowed hard. Kel chuckled sheepishly. “I knew you were kind of upset that you missed your prom, and so I thought I’d make you your own prom. Surprise!”

Aubrey looked around the yard—at the twinkling lights, the trellis, Hero’s record player, then at Kel, all dressed up in his best suit with his pink tie, the kindest look in his eyes and the brightest, beaming smile on his face.

“You...”—she inhaled sharply—“You did all this…for me?”

“Yeah…Is it overboard? I was worried it might be a little overboard.”

Aubrey could scarcely put coherent sentences together—her head was spinning. Kel…Kel had done all of this…for her…? “Why?”

“Why?” Kel repeated with wide eyes. “Well…because it’s a lot…with the music and the fancy clothes and the decorations…”

“No, uh—” she stumbled. “Why did you do this for me, Kel?”

“Oh…well I thought you were upset about our prom ever since we went to the outlet mall, and I thought maybe a ‘do-over’ prom would make you happy.”

Aubrey’s blush deepened as she stared down at her feet. “You…you really didn’t have to do this Kel. Especially since I’m the one who basically ruined your prom in the first place.”

“Aubrey…” He pressed his palm to her cheek—smiling, waiting until she finally looked up at him. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. You didn’t ruin my prom—not at all. I wanted to spend it with you. I know I probably should’ve just asked you, but I don’t know, I was just…I had never felt so close to anybody in my whole life, and I thought you were so amazing, I didn’t know what to do with myself…” He paused, chuckling awkwardly with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

“Wait…you…you…” she stammered trying to make sense of what she was hearing. He couldn’t have possibly just said…? “You wanted to take me to our prom? I’m the girl?”

Kel’s cheeks blushed red, but he nodded. “You’re the girl.” Aubrey could only blink at him as he chuckled lightly, awkwardly again and joked as he fidgeted with his hands, “You know…if this was a movie, this is probably the part where I’d say something really corny like ‘You’ve always been the girl.’”

As he met her eyes, Aubrey froze. His words may have been corny, but the look in his eyes was so sincere, so…affectionate. She swallowed hard—sure her face must be bright red by now, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She tried her best to take a deep breath and shakily tease him but her voice was wavering, breathy—it almost didn’t sound like her. “Yeah…that’s—that’s really corny…”

“Yeah, I’m no Hero…” Kel chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m really not good at any of this stuff…” He bit his lip and looked back up at her with a gaze that made her shiver. “But I really do think you’re great—probably the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I’m sorry for not saying it before.”

“Kel, I…” Her voice hitched. “I had no idea you felt this way…”

“That’s okay,” shrugged Kel. “To be honest, I didn’t even know I felt this way for a long time. It took me a while to figure it out…I was just kind of dense, I guess.” He laughed with a sheepish grin. “When I finally mentioned it to Hero, he gave me this look like ‘it’s about time…’ Then he was the one who was really encouraging me to tell you, but I just never really could figure out how and…then I was worried I was going to mess up our friendship and I didn’t want to make things awkward…But I guess this is kinda awkward, huh? All the movies make it look so easy…”

Aubrey blushed. If one of them should be feeling dense right now, it really should be her. Kel was…Was he really…?

“Listen, uh…you’re really quiet right now. You don’t have to say anything. We can just pretend that I never said anything,” he began to ramble quickly, nervously. “I didn’t want to put you on the spot, I just—I thought that was something you should probably know about me, er, about you, er how I feel about you because I—I really like you and I think you are really great and if you ever talk to me again after this, I would really like to take you to dinner and…”

Aubrey could only blink at him, unable to get a word in edgewise as he let out a long heavy sigh. “And I am totally messing this up…” Sighing heavily again, he ran his hand through his hair, before he met her eyes. “Aubrey…I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be…” Aubrey interrupted, reaching up to stroke Kel’s cheek with her hand. “I know it’s not an easy thing to say…”

“No, but you don’t understand. I tried to practice and everything. I was going to say all kinds of really nice stuff like that you’re probably the most important person in the world to me, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. After Mari and Sunny and Basil…”—his voice hitched—”Things were so dark and so sad…it was probably one of the worst times in my life, and I felt so alone, but then, you found me…and you showed me that even if this world without them is always going to be a little sadder than it was, that doesn’t mean that there aren’t still good things in it too. And a lot of those good things were because of you—when we tease each other and we’re throwing popcorn at each other or I’m wiping frosting on your nose or splashing water at you at the beach—when we laugh about corny movies or dance in the kitchen or when we just talk for hours and completely forget about the time…or when your face turns all red when you’re trying not to smile or the way your nose wrinkles when you laugh. And you”—he cupped her face in his hands—“You’re the best thing.”

“Kel—I…I…” Aubrey began to trip over her words, unsure what she even wanted to say.

Kel sighed, his face blushing red as he pulled his hands away from her, and mumbled, “I don’t even know if that makes sense…”

“No, it…it does,” Aubrey said with a reassuring smile. “I…I completely…” She stopped. “Back then, I…I never thought I could ever be happy again, but you showed me I could be, that there’s still…happiness…” Her voice trailed, but Kel wrapped his arms around her and pulled into a tight hug.  

“Aubrey…I’m…I’m so glad…I…”—Kel’s voice hitched—“I just want you to be happy. I want you to be so, so happy. I just never thought I’d ever be lucky enough that you could be happy with me.”

“I am happy, Kel,” Aubrey whispered, unable to think, unable to breath. Something she couldn’t even begin to describe seemed to propel her forward—her whole body almost moving on its own as she pulled back from him just enough to close her eyes and brush her lips against his.

“A—Aubrey?” stumbled Kel with a look more akin to having been whacked on the back of the head rather than kissed.

“Kel, uh…sorry…” she began staring off over his shoulder. “I just um…”

“No, I’m sorry, I just…I wasn’t ready.” Aubrey’s eyes widened, but Kel hurriedly added, “Ready as in prepared not as in ready like I—I didn’t want…because I—I do…”

A playful smile tugged at Aubrey’s lips, but she was blushing too much to actually tease him.

“I—I…” Kel began to stumble again, and Aubrey could have sworn she heard him mumble, “Oh forget it…” under his breath before he finally just threw his arms around her neck and kissed her. His hands tangled in her hair as hers gripped the collar of his suit pulling him even closer to her. She could taste that sickeningly sweet Orange Joe on his breath, but she didn’t even care.

When they finally broke apart from each other, red-faced and breathless. Kel chuckled teasingly, “I guess I should probably ask you to dance now, huh?”

As that familiar song began to play, Kel wrapped his arms around her, and Aubrey slipped her hands around his neck. They swayed in time to the music, and neither one of them could hold back their smiles.

As Aubrey nestled into Kel’s chest, she could feel him chuckling lightly to himself.

“What?” she asked quietly.  

“Nothing it’s just…” Kel pulled away just enough to look at her and meet her eyes as his mouth twitched into a soft, playful smile. “Maybe it really is true what everyone says about prom after all…”

#kelbrey #omori baseball bat #omori baseball #baseball omori #omori kelbrey #cries about kelbrey #kelbrey prom #i want out of kelbrey hell #send help #can acacia actually write romance? let's see... #i can't believe i wrote this #omori spoilers #my omori fanfiction #thank you so much for reading

[al-hekima-madara-blog]

Happy birthday to my blog !

Exactly ONE YEAR of Madara ultrafixation, and I'm still not tired of him. So let’s recap what we achieve this year and what is coming for in future?

thank you @elenaditgoia for your lovely illustration🥰

377 of you are following me. I'm so grateful and I have no idea why there is so many of you since I have no talent in drawing, I don’t talk about any top 5 main character from Naruto, I love an old 90 years grumpy guy with unkempt hair and eyes bags, I have ZERO interest in ship, fandom drama makes me sleep... but here you are, thank you so much ! A lot of amazing people from literally the 5 continents with so many talents, I enjoy every conversations in public, in private or anon. Let’s carry on for an other year. We can double that number, let’s reach 800 people for december 2023 !

321 posts I’ve written in a year. Mostly analysis. Solely focus on Madara’s canon, the Warring state Era period, the cultural background, Kishimoto’s possible source of inspirations. You know the most funny part, last year when I started this blog from scratches, I thought that considering the small amount of informations about the founders, I won’t make more that two or three posts, 5 MAXIMUM. How delusional I was...

31K words. 6 chapters. That’s where I am now with my fanfic Madara golden age. It’s a personal pride to have gone so far considering english is not my mother tongue. It still asks me tremendous efforts to be able to convey ideas in my head into a grammatically readable plot. But I’m passionate about it, I love what I did so far, and I want to do even better next year.

43 members in our discords Madara Protection Squad that we've created just a month ago. I didn’t expected people to be so dynamic, fun and creative. If you’re not a member yet, you should come here !

What's coming next?

More fanfictions! I've realised this year that writing story is what I love the most. Madara Golden age is my top priority in 2023. You know by now that it takes me a month or two to write a chapter. It's a slow machine but don't worry I'm hell-bent determinate to finish it. And also I can already announce that I have in mind a trilogy. MGA is the seinen, the second book will be a shojo/romance, the third one a shonen. So I'll be busy writing for some years ahead !

More fanart. I know I talk about it often, but I really want to draw. that's a new challenge because I have no idea where to start but I'm seeing so much beautiful fanart of Madara I'm curious if I'm able to do something. Wish me luck !

Fictional astrology birth chart. You remember I did it first to Madara? I would like to do it for the founders Hashirama and Tobirama and some important Uchiha members like Sasuke, Obito and Itachi.

Less analysis of the canon. I think so far I've analysed in details most of Madara's life and plot holes. I might add some stuff about tiny details now and there but most of what I needed to say are here in my Madarapedia page. So 2023 is less blabla on tumblr, more silent creative content!

More discord events. If you want to chit chat with me in daily basis, you gotta come in the Madara protection squad. It's like entering a pub with other drunk Madara addicts talking about the same stuff over and over again and never being bored. We also have a writing club, where everyone is invited if you need a place to share your fanfic, having some feedback and some advices. And also we will do more stream live in future, btw the next one is for the eve of Madara's birthday the 23rd, don't miss it !

Thank you again for following me and let's thrive an other year together 😘💖

#my one year birthday blog #before the King's birthday #personal #Madara #madara uchiha #Naruto #naruto blogging #2023 less analysis more creative content

[deathfavor]

ADDRESSING COMMON QUESTIONS because even though I've said and state this in my rules, i want to make it clear by actually writing it out myself.

HOW MANY MEMES CAN I SEND? I genuinely mean it when I say send as many as you want. I've had several people send me 20+ memes at once and i sit there Delighted to see them every time. More memes often means multiple dynamics and different situations, and can give me a lot more to work with if i'm feeling a certain genre of writing. The question is how often do you want to see me in your notifs because i do try to answer all the memes I get. So it's a challenge. You spam me, I spam you. mutual exchange. ( and 4 is NOT spamming okay, you gotta hit at least 8 before you can call it spamming in this establishment. )

YOU REBLOGGED THIS MEME AGES AGO, CAN I STILL SEND SOMETHING IN? My memes don't have any time limits on them. I could have reblogged it back in January and if you want to send it in, go for it. The only ones might be like the 'next ten asks' memes since those are for 10 but the common, typical meme? Go wild.

IS IT OKAY TO TURN THIS INTO A THREAD? I literally write my meme replies with the intention of making it easier for people to continue if they want to. New post, and i try to end my meme responses in a way that lets people continue them with ease. I LOVE threads, I've legitimately had 15+ threads with just one person ( not including all my threads with others). So please, if you want to turn something into a thread, literally just take it and run. I'm genuinely thrilled every time someone is inspired or liked a response enough to continue it.

SOMEONE ALREADY ANSWERED THIS OPEN - CAN I STILL ANSWER IT? Yes! This isn't a lottery ticket or first come first serve. If you see an open and you want to answer it, go for it! I encourage it! People can take one open and make them vastly different and its so fun to see how people interpret or build the scenario or how different characters and dynamics lead to different things even from the same open!

I WANT TO WRITE WITH [MUSE] BUT I DON'T KNOW THEM. CAN I STILL? / DO YOU WRITE CROSSOVERS ? Yes! I'll be honest here. I am FAR, FAR more prone to straight up crossovers than making fandom specific AUs. Sure, I sometimes might. But I love straight up crossovers way more, whether its your muse coming to my world or mine going ot yours. Most of my muses come from sources where ending up in another universe could genuinely happen as well so its not hard to do. I'm always happy to discuss who goes to what world. I think its fun ; plus it makes muse interactions all the more genuine for me in a way since if I don't know the muse, it doesn't somehow influence my muse either. And I'm always happy to share any relevant information to them!

DO YOU WRITE WITH OCS / CANON DIVERGENT / ETC. I do! I genuinely love writing with OCs and I know sometimes it can be hard. I've personally dropped all my OCs because of that. So I try my best to give them attention and build bonds between the characters. And same goes for Canon Divergent! It might need some discussion depending if it effects my muse somehow, but I am genuinely absolutely here for it !

I hope some of this might offer relief to you guys who might have been wondering about these things. I tried to think up common questions / sources of anxiety that people have in the RPC and really write it out here. I'm sure I've missed some and you can feel free to write in the comments or send an ask if there's a question / topic you're wondering about. I definitely feel like i'm missing some pretty obvious ones, but I think these are ones that I've had come up most frequently when interating with new people so maybe this will offer

#i have no idea if this helps at all #but i hope it might help some people #᛭ — [OOC] angst is the game and tears are the currency

[incarnateirony]

I've been generally... impressed with growth I've seen in the base line of the SPN fandom's dialogue, despite my complaints at certain groups and flares.

When I first hopped off the fence I had watched SPN fandom on for years, even THAT was many years ago.

Back then, this fandom denied a great many things. They refused some things you might laugh at now. The global decline of ratings, for example. Jared stans denied that loudly when they tried to blame Misha for "low ratings", but the second their show crash they tried to use it (incorrectly in a nonapplicable way). Scripts I leaked. Endings I uh. Specced. Maybe even again got mocked for speccing by would be ITKers like Pat, until Dabb confirmed it.

Like. My life is a cycle of posting things and some asshole arguing with me and brushing the results under the rug but

Fandom mostly--MOSTLY--seems to get it. Discourse is opening about corporate structures and trades and potential influences. People are sending good asks, and one not driven purely by a single ship, though sometimes how that ship interplays with this grander media universe.

Which was always kinda the whole point.

I think Tess said it best. (For those that don't know, she was a professional reviewer assigned an episode 300 review so power watched the show for research for the article while livetweeting)

...and it's true.

And I look to the current crowds.

From Amazon, an inbound flow of mature viewership simply discussing the canon that is, laughing off the anti takes this fandom let itself get sucked into for years. They're used to adult storytelling. Whats's canon is canon. Not what personally fulfills our representational wants is canon. Just like. What's canon is canon. Many things it is, but queerbait it isn't.

SPN and CW fandom arguments exist in a bubble, often with young audiences convinced of what "queerbait" means divorced from actual academia, and even more criminal older people with their own agendas, sometimes even dog whistles, sending them out and blinding them so deeply that a clutch of largely 20 year old women feel entitled to even harass, attack, or wish failure on middle aged queer men for not writing middle aged queer men the way 20 year old women wanted, and didn't fight "hard enough" for them, the 20 year old women scream as they crack the whip at creators in shit situations.

But then to act SO GODDAMN SMUG because all your twitter friends believe the same thing with equally shallow effort, convincing yourselves it's progressive, and just LECTURING people looking up from like. Their actual LGBTQ histories, discussions, communities, going "genuinely, what the fuck is wrong with you, shut up"

But I think this flare of QUEERBAIT is a sort of culture shock response. These people are VERY CONFUSED. SPN fandom has let these poor definitions, poor applications, and absolutely terrible academic or historic lgbtq media knowledge be normalized in a sort of "all opinions about how media should work are equal", and it's not. Because like [gestures at my wall trying to keep people from getting lost in the WBD merger]

They want to put that point back in. SPN's audience is suddenly maturing, and being TREATED by this new Amazon audience LIKE The Boys or Mad Men in discussion. And soon, eventually, HBO too.

It seems to be MOSTLY, but not exclusively, younger people, that deeply crave a simple point or objective to fight towards, something you can take a hammer to or throw a molotov through a window and fix, and I'm sorry, part of growing up in the LGBTQ community is realizing it's never, ever that simple, and figuring out sometimes abstract or bizarre compensation methods to fight against our marginalized status without stepping on each other's feet.

So let's make sure we're not cracking the whip on people for, say, performing their own representation demographic well for us while snapped in shackles with a shock collar. Jesus christ.

And yeah, if you missed it, another Queerbait Scholar came out. Trotted out the normal fandom talking points. Tried to declare about degrees and education, pasted a citation

...gave away they've never done research in their life, as the academic paper they cited was a small piece that mapped out argued definitions and, ultimately, disassembled her argument piece by piece about the damages that come with bad faith readings like hers, with a fairly strong conclusion that in no upside down world could be conveyed as even lightly compatible with her point. Like literally, it's very clear she googled keywords trying to force a biased result, read a google truncation, and hit Ctrl+F without reading any surrounding content, because it was like a dissertation DESIGNED to end her.

And we've let this kind of bullshit drive us a while.

I'm glad. I'm glad a lot of people have turned around, but I'm also quite sad that there's others just seeming to double down and increase their violence against LGBTQ content and creators to compensate, screaming "I'M FIGHTING FOR YOU" while mentally pummeling the fuck out of those creators for trying.

I can't emphasize this enough. For all the pomp of her, the people she was trying to downtalk at in huge Dunning-Kruger in a neon lit exhibit display--everyone else read what she cited. She didn't, as was evident by her citing it.

The labor of YOUR ignorance already isn't OURS to deal with to begin with, but to attach that to INTENTIONAL ignorance, the REFUSAL to listen even when redirected to READ ONES OWN CITATION as actually being COUNTER to your argument--that's BEYOND the pall. That's not even just like, anti-intellectual. It's just being a dishonest piece of shit trying to pitch your personal wants beyond active warriors IN the community. Jesus what the fuck? If your best attempted google fu of no doubt suggestive string words only found a paper telling you that you're wrong, maybe you should listen to the elders that have been telling you to STOP ATTACKING QUEER CREATORS STUCK IN LIMITED SITUATIONS FOR YEARS. But of course, they double down instead, because that avoids having to face the impact of their PAST behavior then. (Or maybe it's just addiction to those sweet, sweet likes and trying to grab them before the claim's popularity goes entirely extinct.)

There's a desire for simplicity, but it's not there guys. Let me emphasize. Almost any single scholarly piece on this that ISN'T a self published piece of nonsense someone points at their own work on? Is gonna say the same thing. The same thing has been said for decades. Berens argued the same in 2003. This isn't new. Yall backwards

Whatever this impregnable wall of bitterness impervious to realities from public common knowledge to their own citations is, it's not progress. It looks alien from the outside, even in actual academic LGBTQ media discussions. You normalized it in a bubble.

The fight for progress is hard and complex and probably kind of disorienting and scary when you're new. There's oppression from above and limitations from within and DECADES of complicated discourse of where moral responsibility lies in support of the content despite shortcomings

None of this, I mean absolutely NONE OF THIS is new. It's a highly explored, delicate and nuanced conversation held for decades--less with changed popular opinion, and more with importance of new scopes like the internet or social media.

But somehow we have one cluster of like a dozen people in each CW teen scifish fandom that absolutely trained themselves into believing their unbridled unforgiving scorched earth bitter hell is "THE" LGBTQ way. Rather than one the community has called destructive or limiting to us in some form, for decades.

You don't get to redefine things and change how it works when you don't even UNDERSTAND how it works. You definitely don't get to pretend it's all the other decades more immersed activists in and WELL BEYOND SPN FANDOM that have it fucked up and YOU TEN are the right ones. Jesus

I'm tired of these perpetual aggressions against queer content and creators from SUPPOSED supporters that are VERY SRS ABOUT REP but can't even read the ABSTRACT or scroll to the CONCLUSION before deciding to cite a piece from a google truncation.

I'm genuinely starting to think there's some terfy ass radfem dogwhistling going on consciously from that corner at this point. There's a level of shamelessness that, even when confronted with their own source telling them they were wrong, they double down.

Because if a bunch of 20 year old women decide to tell a bunch of 40 year old queer men how to write 40 year old queer men to the point of encouraging SPITE AND HARASSMENT, that's it. You're not fighting for the 40 year old queer men. Stop pretending you are. If you wanna say you hate gay men or got issues with them then like, get out and go until you take care of that shit. Because this is looking like a very gay creative room, and we don't need bad faith actors tearing them apart pretending it's as an Ally.

If your wish ultimately boils down to wishing failures on a predominantly LGBTQ creative team, I don't care what you gift wrap it in, it's still shit. You're not an ally or friend in this fight.

Can't believe this fandom hears shit like "real activism takes education and nuanced engagement, not quick responses and hammers, not all moments are portland riots resisting the cops, we wouldn't be here that way; use words correctly, so we can actually address the issues we're facing, actually identifying queerbait, or other issues in the system, because if we know what the problems are each to their own we can start addressing them--to support creatives while fighting back against abusive corporations without hurting those creatives. We can't if we just throw 'everything I don't like or wasn't enough for me' in the same fucking bin. And nobody can even pretend the demand for the right to do so services any action. Their intent isn't action. It's noise.'" and pretends these are irrational or unfair statements.

They're ripping apart the people actually taking action.

For the last SEVERAL years whatever Supernatural fandom has had hasn't even remotely looked like real world activism in representation expansion discussions. It looks like a bunch of people who grew up trained in a normalized thunderdome of bad fandom talking points they don't know better than which have moved the entire fucking talking centers off into another fucking solar system from most of the world. It's bloodsport posing as activism, addiction to conflict rather than discussion of advancement, progress, tactics, or celebrating the content they DO manage to make in a warped system.

#supernatural #spn #the winchesters #destiel

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Spillways (Chapter 2) A Gilded Age fanfic

(The title is taken from one of my favorite Ghost songs, which is about confronting old wounds and pain in order to heal so you can move forward.)

Faceclaims for George and Randolph Stewart

Contents: Prologue, Chapter 1

Word count: 1441

Summary: All of New York society is in a tizzy over the news: The Earl of Galloway is in town with his son, the 30 year old (bachelor) Randolph.  Marriage-minded mamas are on the prowl but the Earl and his son eschew most of the lavish parties and teas they’re invited to...except to a certain tea with Agnes Van Rhijn and her niece, Marian.

Rating: Everyone (Ratings will be *by chapter*, so subsequent installments might differ in their rating.)

Author's Notes: This is a canon-divergence story beginning a few months from episode 5 of Season 2. This is obviously not going to be historically accurate, also I'm from America and I've only gleaned a cursory knowledge of the Scottish peerage from my reading and basically am just using the titles, locations and names as vehicles for these characters please just go with it lmao

DISCLAIMER: I am not affiliated with The Gilded Age in any way beyond being a fan, I do not own the Gilded Age characters nor am I using them for any commercial purposes or making money from this, this is just basically word fanart of the show

Lovely divider is by @muchomago

—Five months ago—

Every time the letter came, she set it aside.  As usual, she waited for Peggy to finish up for the day before dealing with it herself.  Just seeing his name made her blood boil every time.  Not even bothering to open it to read, same as all the others, Agnes Van Rhijn angrily ripped up the letter from George Stewart. 

Since the death of her husband Arnold many years ago, the letters had begun coming regularly, like a bad case of the influenza.  Instructing the servants to always throw out the letters from this George Stewart would have invited gossip, the last thing she wanted.  She suspected Bannister already knew but he would never be so crass as to divulge Agnes’s history with the man to the rest of the servants. 

 “It is another solicitation for patronage.  From Scotland, this one.” she had said in the beginning, in a noncommittal manner, to hide her anger.  Bannister had merely nodded.

She had never written back (she refused to give him the satisfaction) but he had kept at it, sending a letter yet again.  And Again.  She tore up his letters.  Again and again.   Today was different, however.  The sting of the reminder, the annoyance of it, his sheer audacity to keep trying to communicate…it mocked her now more than ever.  Really, after Marian’s humiliating betrayal of having secured employment at a school and then for it all to become known at Dashiell’s welcoming tea the other week… she had had enough.  No more.

With an efficiency she hadn’t possessed since boarding school, Agnes sat at her desk and smoothed out a crisp sheet of paper and quickly dipped her pen several times before beginning to write.  Peggy would have been unable to properly convey the seething hatred she felt, this written rebuke to George Stewart must come from herself.

Agnes scribbled furiously, almost missing the inkwell several times, managing three sheets before finally packaging them in a sturdy envelope.  Bannister was instructed to see it reached the Post Office Department steamboat before it left the harbor that week.  

Enough was enough.

Let that wretched letter I got today be the last I ever hear from him…Agnes thought to herself. 

—-- Present Day—--

“Father, I don’t see the issue.  Marian Brook is from a great family.” Randolph Stewart stood before his father in their suite’s parlor, having just relayed his intention to call on Marian.

Lord George Stewart was not pleased.  “Her breeding is not the issue.  I did not bring you here with me to go prowling around for women.  You’re to shadow me as I look over my investments in lumber and petrol-driven carts. Your future sources of additional income when you become Lord, might I remind you.”

Randolph was indignant.  “Marian Brook is not the type of woman one goes ‘prowling’ for!  Do not speak in such a way.”

“I will speak as I please.” 

“Oh? What of your business with Mrs. Van Rhijn?  It's quite rich of you to be berating me for calling on a lady when it is the sole reason we have sailed to the states.”

“I am not berating you.  Furthermore, I am not going to call on Agnes Van Rhijn, I am going to meet with her.  It’s a very crucial difference and not at all social, there’s no comparing the two situations.”

“So you say.”

“ENOUGH.  Enough.” George huffed.  “I am not going to bicker with my own son about this! We have several business meetings to attend to.  You will not have time for your little tea with Miss Brook.”

“Oh, but you will have time for yours with Mrs. Van Rhijn?”

“I do not have a meeting with her yet but I will soon. I will figure out a way, never you mind.”

“Hmm.  I am still going to the tea with Miss Brook.” Randolph said.

“As I have stated several times now, though, that is quite enough.  I do not have to explain myself to you and you’re not to dismiss any of our appointments for something frivolous.  You will do as I say.”

“Or what?” Randolph smirked.  He knew where this argument was headed. His father would eventually give in, as he usually did these days.

Ever since their shouting match the day before George had finally received a response from Agnes, Randolph felt closer to his goal: living life on his own terms.  

After they had ceased their screaming in that fight, Randolph had threatened to leave forever.  He had said he would not return even if George would pass away.  It would put the Earldom of Galloway in the uncomfortable position of trying to wrangle their new Earl back to Scotland while having a chosen family member looking after their holdings, like a common steward.

Randolph didn’t know what this Agnes Van Rhijn had written to his father, but after reading that letter he was a changed man.  An out of character, sincere apology was given to him by his father the next morning.  No longer did he bark orders at his son or moan about his many projects for the betterment of the poor.  George Stewart’s contempt for Randolph’s hunger to change things in society seemed to have evaporated.  He still made cutting remarks, yes, but as one would after reading a particularly bad book or having sat through a very boring play and not as if helping the less fortunate was something…revolting.

George Stewart had begun to finally behave like father, a person that Randolph admired instead of growing to hate.  Better late than never, he supposed.

As for himself, Randolph felt changed as well.  He could finally see that something horrible had eaten away at his father for many years and caused him much anguish.  That had been the source of his anger and bitterness, and he had finally made a decision to confront it by coming to America.

Randolph was proud.  He planned to thank Agnes Van Rhijn in person, even if she had no clue what her letter had accomplished, but he had another idea..one that could very well make Marian’s aunt direct her fury to him.

“You know, father, you could come with me.  To this tea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Father…if you must meet with Mrs. Van Rhijn, why not come with me?  I can send a note to Miss Brook and ask for our upcoming visit to be at their home on 61st Street.”

“An Earl does not just foist himself upon events he is not invited to!  It is unseemly!  Where are your senses?”

“An Earl should also not deny so many invitations to promenade or dine.  Accepting only the one to Mrs. Astor’s luncheon hardly seems proper to me.  People might think we lack the funds to socialize around town as befits our station.” Randolph said idly, fiddling with a flower arrangement on a nearby table. “I can ask Miss Brook to send a formal invitation and include you on it.”

“Are you mad?  Agnes Van Rhijn will never agree to it.” George stated. 

“Yet Miss Brook was at a school, teaching a class on watercolors.  I’m told her aunt wasn’t agreeable at first but eventually caved to the idea.” 

George Stewart still was not persuaded. “If Agnes is as I remember her, she rules her house with an iron fist.  Miss Brook would have better luck trying to part the red sea.”

“Miss Brook will do it, I know she can.” Randolph insisted. “So, shall I do it?  Send her a note?”

When George remained silent, Randolph knew he had to go in for the kill.

“Of course, if you’d rather people think our family are paupers and can’t afford to-”

“Fine!  Fine. Very well. Send the girl the note.” George said dismissively, rubbing his temples.

Randolph walked over, taking his father’s shoulder.  “Father, you needn’t act as if you’re about to have your teeth pulled.  Whatever this business you have with Agnes Van Rhijn is about, I’m sure that facing the issue head on is better than letting it fester any further.”

George covered his son’s hand on his shoulder with his own.  “Randolph…you cannot know the shame it brings me.  I don’t know if I can do this.” 

“Of course you can!  I will be there with you.” 

George Stewart smiled briefly before standing from his chair, shuffling his suit before heading to their balcony.

Randolph felt elated.  He was going to see Marian again and his father might finally get closure for whatever was plaguing him. It seemed too good to be true.  Hopefully Agnes Van Rhijn was more accommodating when Marian came to her about this invitation. 

NEXT: Chapter 3

#the gilded age #hbo the gilded age #agnes van rhijn #marian brook #the gilded age fanfiction #fanfiction #spillways fanfiction #*jeb bush voice* please clap

[a-case-of-the-ace]

Fic writer interview :D

Thank you @eoinmcgonigal for the tag!!

Welp let's see how this goes. I've been doing the writing thing for a little over two years, I think? Time has flown and I have done... little.

How many works do you have on AO3? 21.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 57,611. None of which have reached over the 12,000 mark.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Something, Old, New, Broken and Blue at number 1, followed by Something Precious, a Bold Beginning, My Soul Says Ouch and Match Made in Vain. The top 3 are for Stranger Things, and the 4th and 5th are for Mafia: Definitive Edition. I reckon the top ones are at the top mainly because they're a bigger fandom.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do, I'm always so happy when I get them, but I worry I sound like a broken record. there's only so many ways to thank someone for reading and commenting, even though I'm overjoyed every time it happens.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Possibly Ready for Table for Doctor Who's The Two Doctors, since that doesn't end in a good spot for the main character, but the canon story has a good ending, so you know it's going to be ok. Probably Bon Appetit, for Mafia: DE, since it's a dark yandere cannabilism fic.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? That's a tough one, most of mine have happy endings. Possibly My Soul Says Ouch, since the characters spend so long pining over each other before getting together? Also my only polyam fic, (or at least where it's not just implied) so 50% extra love?

7. Do you write crossovers? I haven't, none have really occurred to me. I don't usually read them either, but if it's done well, I'll read it.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not hate per se, but I did have one commenter who didn't like some things, and told me I could change things, and didn't need to stick to the canon. I quite liked my choices, though, and so did other kinder commenters. I do the fic for me, first and foremost.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not in anything I've posted, but I'm currently writing a Galavant fic that has some, for angst reasons. I did have a tad in A Bold Beginning, but I danced around the subject so much that I don't think it counts. I'm ace, which I don't think helps much, I'm basing most of it off of what I've read.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Wouldn't mind if someone did though.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship? Mega tough one. Good Omens got me into it, but I haven't read much of them. Stobotnik, since I only watched the films for them? Two/Jamie? I read a lot of Johnlock, but that was ages ago. Geraskier? I think I just binge a ship and return to it if I really liked it. Depends if the ship's small or big, I guess.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I had a mermaid!Tommy au I tried to get going for a long while, but kept getting stuck on logistics. An omegaverse mafia fic, an angsty guilt fic, and even a fic for Forever (TV show from 2014). Plus a bunch of ideas that hit while I was writing something else, and I'd lost the fixation by the time I finished. There's still a few sticky notes with ideas in my phone, from inspo at work. I think I get a lot more ideas than I manage to write :(

15. What are your writing strengths? Beginnings. I love nothing more than going "Bang! Here's what's happening." Otherwise, I dunno what my strengths might be. Writing in full sentences for the first draft?

16. What are your writing weaknesses? Hanging on to the motivation to finish a fic. Not using a variation of the phrase "All they could do was hope." Nearly put that in thrice in three chapters by mistake, I'm sure it's getting old. Motivation for sure though, I miss the days when I was writing tropey one-shots, at least they were one and done.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I haven't really had a need to do it, and would worry about formatting if I did. Closest I've had to this was a heavily accented character, but I didn't really know how to write an accent and so I didn't write it in. Not sure if I'd do it that way again, but it made it easier.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Mafia: Definitive Edition. Wrote my first fic in one of my last year 12 math classes. Also the fandom that made me switch from looking at tumblr on Pinterest to actually being on tumblr. There wasn't enough content, so I had to go searching, and then make my own.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? Really want to throw my hat into the ring on Wez/The Golden Youth, from Mad Max 2, but the only ideas I have for them are really long. Other ones I've considered writing include Forever, Red Dwarf, Sportarobbie from Lazytown, Johnny/Reg from SAS Rogue Heroes and Jude/Cardan from The Cruel Prince.

20. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? I'm really liking the Galavant fic I'm writing at the moment, mainly because it's shamelessly self-indulgent. Probably one of my Mafia fics, Chosen by the Life, Choking on my Love or Bring Me Home. It's been a while since I've read my own stuff, this has been a real trip down memory lane.

Desperately trying to remember people who write so I can tag them... I'm so bad at names, if I miss you I'm sorry. And I may not know you at all well so I apologise if you find this weird.

@feline-ranger @iiep-wop @lilies-in-a-vase @somethingaboutamagpie @ihni

#tag game

[thenightling]

My review of The Sandman episode 1: Sleep of the Just

       There is a long opening so you have ample time to press control and J and skip past any spoilers. 

     The first time I read The Sandman by Neil Gaiman is probably more recently than you may expect considering how much of a fan of it I have become.  I read Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman for the first time in the early summer of 2017.  And it all started because someone had asked me to portray DC comics canon Lucifer for a role playing game.  What little I knew about the character came from the Lucifer TV show that was (at the time) airing on Fox.  I knew that he made his first appearance in Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman and I knew that he resembled rock icon David Bowie.  I also knew that the main character looked like a “Goth Jareth” and that his sister was Death.        Years ago (in 1999) a friend had recommended The Sandman to me under the descriptors of “He’s like a Goth Jareth” and Death, his sister, is “So cute.” Jareth was the main antagonist of Jim Henson’s The Labyrinth. He was the Goblin King portrayed by David Bowie.  

     I was thirty-five-years-old (In 2017) when I finally read Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman.  I also just so happened to have reached the issue / chapter Dream of a Thousand Cats in The Sandman: Dream Country (Volume 3) on the very same day I adopted two of my cats. Loki and Vlad. That was just a happy coincidence.  I came very close to naming Vlad after Morpheus AKA Dream (the main character of The Sandman) but his little fang over-bite made me decide to call him Vlad after Count Dracula instead.        Having read other works by Neil Gaiman, including Stardust, I was familiar with his style of writing and how it could go from extremely whimsical and child-like to dark and horrific.  When I first started reading The Sandman I expected a typical comic book experience, an easy-to-follow story with some fights and explosions that I usually would skip or skim out of boredom.  I never liked combat scenes.

    It was only when I got to the end of issue 4 (Chapter 4 in the audio version) that I finally realized, this was no normal action-adventure story.   No. There were no explosions, or punching out bad guys.  This was more like a traditional fantasy novel series disguised as a graphic novel. It was surreal and complex with loving homages to classic Horror anthology comics and references to things like The House of Mystery and the House of Secrets (DC’s equivalents to EC’s Tales from the Crypt and Vault of Horror Comics.) And there were heavy references to classics too, like Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest, Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, and John Milton’s Paradise Lost.           It was a strange experience, finding a new obsession at this age.  For many years my obsessions had been a cycler collection of classic Gothic Horror figures like Dracula, Frankenstein (Literary accurate depictions), and Goethe’s Faust.  Reading Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman was like finding a piece of myself I hadn’t known I was missing.  It was like coming home.

   The Sandman tells the story of Morpheus (also known as Dream of The Endless or The Sandman), the lord of Dreams.  When a group of occultists try to capture The Grim Reaper they accidentally summon The Lord of Dreams and decide to keep him prisoner.  

    After a century of captivity, Morpheus escapes and has to restore his crumbling kingdom in the collective unconscious of all sentient life, a dimension known as The Dreaming.  

     Morpheus used to be something of… well, an asshole.  So most of the saga is him setting right the wrongs of his past.  It’s a long redemption story with themes about the importance of change and the value of stories and imagination.  It’s a story about stories.  It’s beautiful and it is surreal.

      The character of Morpheus is very much a Gothic aesthete.  He loves long, draping, black clothing, candles, ravens, spooky old houses, Gothic castles, Jack-o-lanterns, Nightmare-monsters, and all things Halloween.  A man after my own tastes!          Fast forward two years to 2019 when The Sandman TV series was announced by Netflix.  Needless to say, I was delighted.   The story had become something precious to me, from the graphic novels, to the novella, Dreamhunters.  Soon there would be a new audiobook adaptation with a full cast of voice actors add background music and sound effects like an old radio play.  This was a stunningly elaborate audio drama and I could only hope the TV show could do the show as much justice.          And much like other obsessions that pulled me through rough times, The Sandman was there when I needed it. Volume 1 of The Audio drama version happened to be released July 15th, 2020, the very night I was in the hospital with a serious bacterial infection.  

     The Sandman holds a special place in my heart and that means my opinion of the new TV adaptation could be the extreme of being overly critical or watching it with rose colored glasses and thinking of it as perfect and flawless.

     I was fortunate enough to have been given a ticket to the virtual advanced screening of the first episode which included a thirty-minute introduction with Neil Gaiman and George R.R. Martin. I admit that through their conversation I grew very impatient and wanted to skip straight to the episode. They talked about both working with Charles Dance and Gwendoline Christie and how good the actors were.            At long last I got to watch the first episode of The Sandman Netflix Series, Sleep of The Just.  From this point on there will be spoilers.  

          SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT ON!

        The first episode of The Sandman Netflix series is fairly faithful to the original issue (Chapter 1 of the audio book / audio drama).   I had thought they might leave the John Hathaway character out of the show adaptation but to my surprise he was there just like at the start of the original story.  Charles Dance is absolutely perfect as the dastardly Roderick Burgess, the leader of the occultists who summon and trap Morpheus.    

         Tom Sturridge (Morpheus) Provides the narration of the episode while his character, in the story, is silent for most of it. There were certain scenes I was worried about before viewing the episode such as having heard that Morpheus’s raven familiar, Jessamy, learns of his captivity and tries to free him.  I had worried about how she might have found out about the capture and if that would change certain plot elements but the show actually handled it very well.  She was with him when he was summoned.  The only reason she wasn’t trapped in the binding circle with him is she was dragged out while tucked into his robes.          I was also worried that they might make Morpheus’s escape too “actiony.” The Sandman is not an action story. There aren’t a lot of fight scenes or explosions.  The escape is very similar to the original depiction. The only difference is when the binding circle is breached (which may have been deliberately by Paul this time) the guard dreams of the beach and of Morpheus and the guard opens fire on him, and wakes to find he is shooting the cage in The Waking World, shattering the glass of Morpheus’s prison.  It’s a much more visceral escape scene than what was originally written but I don’t mind it.

     I felt that Tom Sturridge’s acting was the best thing about the episode. He is extremely emotive in his body language and facial expressions as Morpheus.  You don’t see his character talk until the end of the episode and yet I could always tell what his character was thinking and feeling in every scene even without the often provided voice over narration.  I would even say that Tom Sturridge deserves an Emmy for the first episode of The Sandman.  Too bad the show won’t be eligible until the 2023 Emmy Awards.  

    The acting of the young man who played teenaged Alexander Burgess should not be over-looked either.  He was fantastic and very sympathetic. I very much wish that the show would deviate from the source material so that Morpheus might free Alex from his curse earlier than he does in the original version of the story.  In the original story Morpheus gets his revenge for being held prisoner by  condemning Alexander Burgess (the son of his original captor) to ”Eternal Waking” which was a nightmare that leads into yet another nightmare where he thinks he’s waking up but really he’s just entering yet another nightmare.  In this show the curse is of Eternal Sleep and we do not see what Alex is actually dreaming. I still pity him though.  He was made very sympathetic for the show.  

     Alex came very close to freeing Morpheus. I think he sympathized with him and may have even found Morpheus a little attractive.    

    Alex even offers to free Morpheus if he just promises to not harm him or Paul but Morpheus is too stubborn (and angry over the death of Jessamy) to pay attention to him.  Also Alex had previously said he’d free if not for his father and Morpheus had believed him then and Alex backed down on freeing him after his father’s death. Roderick’s Burgess’s Death is no longer a heart attack, by the way.  Now he dies after a confrontation with Alex where Alex accidentally knocks him against Morpheus’s glass cage and Roderick’s head cracks open.  I wonder how Alex managed to make that look like an accident and managed to also keep the police from entering The Undercroft.  Oh, well.  Money talks. And he was still rich.      

      Over a year ago some fans of “Dark fantasy” got to see a rough cut of the first episode before it was finished.  Someone on Reddit, who had seen the rough cut, complained that Alex and Paul’s homosexual relationship was too blatant and “in your face.”  It was no more blatant than in the original story. You don’t even see them kiss.  I am not sure what that person was talking about. And obviously, if this person couldn’t catch on that Alex and Paul were a couple in the original story, it probably should be more blatant than. It was always obvious to me.      The musical scoring is beautiful and haunting.  If I was to be critical of the music is that it’s deceptively whimsical when Jessamy is trying to free Morpheus.  I almost felt it was wrong for what was about to happen to her but perhaps that was the point.  We were to be thrown off guard into thinking this would be light hearted or easy and it wasn’t.  Speaking of what happens to poor Jessamy, (she gets killed by Alexander Burgess under pressure from his father), I actually saw tears in Morpheus’s eyes with what happened to poor Jessamy.  

     The whole scene is a deviation from the source material. Jessamy doesn’t even appear in The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes (the first volume of The Sandman).  Her first appearance in The Sandman is in the story Thermador (Act 2 of the audio drama and in The Sandman: Fables and Reflections, which is volume 6 of The Sandman). I have mixed feelings about Jessamy being killed this way as she IS a dream entity made from the soul of a deceased human and probably should not (in my opinion) die from a shot gun blast. However it does give Morpheus more reason to seek his revenge on Alex later in the story.        

    The end credits feature art by Dave McKean.  Each episode will feature different art by Dave McKean on the end credits.

    In general, I loved the first episode of The Sandman. It was about as faithful as the Interview with the vampire movie was to the novel.  Now as a fan of the source material I did notice a few changes that I wasn’t too thrilled with but these were minor.  The first is you do not get Morpheus audibly thinking “Soon.” Before the binding circle is breached.  This scene, in its original form, may well be the source of the famous meme.  

     I felt Morpheus’s confrontation with Alexander Burgess felt a bit rushed.  It lacked Morpheus explaining that time moves no differently for his kind than it does for humanity. This line felt important since many people might mistakenly think a century in captivity is nothing to someone like him.  (“Time moves no faster for my kind than it does humanity and imprisoned it crawled at a snail’s pace.”)  I think that line should have been left in there.     Another line that was chopped was when Morpheus refers to the spell that summoned and trapped him as “Petty Hedge magicking.” (Meaning weak and amateur spell casting.)  I felt that would have established his sense of ego quite well and the line is somewhat iconic to those who have read the story.

    I was also a little surprised that when Morpheus finally returned to his own realm (dimension) of The Dreaming, that it is Lucienne, the loyal Librarian (I don’t understand the point of changing the spelling from Lucien) who finds him instead of Gregory The Gargoyle.  This will definitely mean there have to be changes to how the Imperfect Hosts (episode 2) story is done.  I had hoped to see him recover at The House of Mystery, being cared for by Cain and Abel.  Imagine convalescing in the care of the character equivalents of The Crypt Keeper and Vault Keeper from EC comics. I would have liked to have seen that.      The only time we see Roderick Burgess use any real magick is during the summing spell and he seems surprised that it was working.  The implication is that without the Magdalene Grimoire he has no real power, which is disappointing, because he was an actual sorcerer in the source material.  Also they changed his motivation that he now wants to resurrect his older son (the only one he actually loves).  In the original version he just wanted to capture Death for clout and power among the occult community.  I don’t really think the change was necessary.  A power mad magician should have been enough.  But he’s still as much an ass as he was in the original story.            The sets were fantastic, from The Undercroft where Morpheus was held prisoner to the manor house, which to me, felt like it should have been used in a revival of Dark Shadows for Collinwood Manor in Maine. Everything was beautifully atmospheric. The CG was decent.   The villainous escaped nightmare, The Corinthian, is shown earlier than many may have expected but I did not mind that.  He’s a good character to show early. And he also guided Roderick Burgess on how best to contain his prisoner.

     After the end credits there is a teaser for the rest of the season that is very enticing and definitely has content that was not in the original story. I do like that Matthew the Raven (Morpheus’s new familiar) is shown early and even delivers a fantastic and nonchalant “F—k it.  Let’s go to Hell!” like they’ve decided to go to McDonalds for supper.  Patton Oswalt was an excellent choice to voice the character.

      In general, I loved the first episode though.  I would give this show an 8 out of 10 or perhaps an 8.5 out of 10 as a rating.  Honestly, I thought the first episode was fantastic.  I hope the rest of the show is just as good and that other people give it a fair chance.                  

#The Sandman #Sandman #Neil Gaiman