I Rolled My Eyes At My Husband. “It’s Enough For Me, But Not For My Captain Of The Guard. If You

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

The prophetess gave me a look. “That’s disgusting.”

I shrugged, unable to keep the smug grin off my face. “But it worked. He doesn’t want to fight anymore. And, I got a date!”

She groaned. “Priorities, Isabel, priorities!”

I frowned. “I’m sorry, was “get Isabel a man” not number one?”

“No!”

I laugh. “Teasing, Anna! Chill out. He’s cute!”

Anna groaned again. “Please, just call it off. Fight him, win, everything is solved.”

She rubbed her temples as I shook my head apologetically. 

“Sorry,” I said. I really was a bit sorry. I liked Anna. Truthfully, I had gone to the meeting place with every intention of ending everything. But he was just so sweet, and when we started talking, we couldn’t stop. Masks came off, and one thing led to another and then we were kissing. 

When I relayed the details of the meeting to Anna, she could only shake her head.

“I hope you’re happy,” she grumbled. “Messing with prophecies and fate. It’s a nasty business, and you never know how it’ll turn out.”

I didn’t respond, knowing my words would only hurt. I turned and left the room, hiding my face.

Anna was my best friend, and I didn’t want her to see the hurt she had caused me. 

I would go on my date tonight with the former villain, and hopefully Anna would still be here when I got back. 

No one, not even my best friend, could tell me what to do.

"I said you were destined to lock fists with the villain! Not lips!" "Well it worked, didn't it?"

I pause. "Centuries?"

My brother nods. "Centuries, blah blah blah, prophecy, blah blah blah, chosen one, blah blah, overthrown and killed, you get the point. I'm outta here!"

He looks a bit too excited for my comfort. I gently extract my newborn daughter from my older brother's arms, slowly taking the dagger out of her hands.

"Mom told me you're 10 years older than me, and that's why you've been king as long as I can remember." I say carefully. Has he finally snapped? I knew the war was wearing on him, but this?

He rolls his eyes. "Try 287 years older than you. And "Mom" isn't really MY mom. Really, I thought you would have figured it out by now. I did try to leave you hints."

I can only stare at him. "But...how? Why?"

He shrugs. "Cursed, evil fairy, 'wasn't invited,' (her sister hid the invite, it wasn't my fault!), you get the idea."

I clutch my daughter a little tighter. "So no one has noticed that you've been on the throne for 200 years?"

"No, people are surprisingly unobservant. Every 30 years or so, I 'get sick' and fake my death, my 'son' rising to power. It's surprisingly easy to do."

My eyes widen in horror. "You're not my dad, right? Mom said he died a few years after i was born!"

He shudders. "Eww, no! Obviously, she knew and helped me lie about it, but no. For all intents and purposes, I'm still your older brother. Your family line has descended from my younger brother."

I can hardly believe my ears. "Why didn't Mom tell me the truth?"

My brother sighs. "There are some stupid people in this kingdom that actually like the way I rule, despite my best efforts to rile them up and get them to assassinate me (doesn't work by the way, someone tried that 173 years ago).

"If they knew the truth, that your child would finally take me out of power, you'd better believe that you wouldn't have lived past 5 years old. Despite my best efforts, there are still a few people out there who know the prophecy."

"So you want my infant child to stab you right now?!" I ask in disbelief. "I can understand the rest, but that would leave ME in charge until she's of age. And she would be crowned while she was still a child! Do you really want that for the kingdom?"

He rolls his eyes again. "I don't care."

"How are you so sure that it's her?"

He closes his eyes, remembering the prophecy. "'Spinner's daughter, without sister or brother, shall end your reign, and she will prosper.' Not a great prophecy as far as the contents. It barely rhymes, but it gave me hope that there would be an end to ...this.

"But if it means that much to you, I guess I can wait a few more years. But I will be telling her the truth, the WHOLE truth!"

I nod. "Me too," I say quietly.

17 years later, at my daughters birthday party, my brother's butler comes to find me, in a panic.

"Your Higness, your brother has fallen ill! It's quite bad. You should come see him."

I follow him up the stairs to my brother's room.

"What's the matter?" I ask when I see him, lying in his bed.

He smiles weakly. "I'm not sure when she did it, but she must be behind this. I'm so-" He cuts off in a coughing fit.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, tears filling my eyes. "I wish it could be different. Do you want to see her?"

He shakes his head. "Don't spoil her fun, it's her birthday. And I'm happy, I really am. I'll see my wife, my kids, my parents and siblings."

He sighs happily. "I've been dreaming about this for centuries."

An hour later, my older brother dies in his bed, 200 years overdue.

My daughter cries at her beloved uncle's death, though she wipes away her tears and puts on a brave face for the coronation the next morning.

The kingdom mourns his death for the final time, even as they celebrate their first queen in 275 years.

No one notices me slipping into the background of the party, hiding a small black bottle in my hand.

When I dump it out the window, the plants underneath it shrivel up and die.

“Why are you giving my newborn baby a dagger?!” “Well they’re a choosen one, which means that I’m destined to be killed by them; but honestly I’ve been waiting centuries for them to be born and I just want to get it over with.”

“How did you do that?!” I shriek.

The Knight is staring at her sword in surprise and shock. She looks up with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know!” she cries out. 

I hesitantly raise the gun again and pause. “Can you…do it again?” I ask curiously.

She shrugs, equally curious. “Try it.”

I fire…and she manages to parry it again.

The gun drops to my side in shock, and she drops her sword like it’s on fire. She stares at it in horror.

“It must be cursed!” she yelps, backing away from her sword.

I roll my eyes. “Really?”

The Knight trembles with fear. “I traded for it a few weeks ago. Traveling trader. She said it was special, but I thought she just meant that it was forged well! This is my first time actually fighting with it!”

I stare at her. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that you brought a sword to a gun battle…and you hadn’t even used it yet?! What kind of Knight are you?!”

She shrugs sheepishly. “A not very experienced one?”

“Parry this you filthy casual.” You pull the trigger… and begin to panic as the Knight ACTUALLY parries the bullet.

*turned out longer than intended, but I tried*

"Wait, so what do I do?"

Death turns and starts walking away. "Doesn't matter to me. I can't help you, sorry!"

With a huff of irritation, I find my way home. Strangely, I can't open the door; my hand passes right through the doorknob. But, when I try to go through it, all I get is a nasty bruise.

"Strange," I mutter to myself, inspecting the door. "Didn't expect that."

I end up waiting at the door of my former home for a few hours before my twin brother gets home. He parks his car and comes up, pulling out his keys.

As he unlocks the door, I slip in behind him. "Thanks," I say, even though I know he can't hear me.

He stops and tilts his head to the side for a second before shaking his head and setting his things down.

I freeze. Did he just hear me?

"Luke?" I try. "Can you- Can you hear me?"

He makes no movement that he did, and I deflate. Now what?

Upon further exploration, I discover that I can only touch things that belonged to me while I was alive. Books of mine? Yes. The TV remote that Luke bought? No. The crossword puzzle book that was a gift from Mom for both of us? Somehow works? The house that Luke bought and had let me live in for a few months? Apparently that was also a no.

With no idea what else to do, I sat down and started reading a book.

A few hours later, a loud crash sounds from the kitchen. I jump up, and find Luke making dinner (and dropping a pan on the floor). I'm about to turn around and leave, knowing he's okay, when I realize that there are tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Dang it," he whispers, picking up the pan. "Why is everything going wrong today?"

Right on cue, his phone rings. He answers it and sits down to talk to the caller.

"Hey, Mom. ... No, just making dinner. ... Yes, I'm fine. ... I have not been crying! ... Fine, okay, yes, I was." His voice wobbles a bit at the end of the sentence and he swipes a hand over his eyes.

"He was my twin, Mom. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

I swallow. However I was feeling, it was a hundred times worse for my family. I reach out as Luke continues talking to Mom, and put my hand on his shoulder.

Luke pauses again, glancing around the room before finishing his sentence.

"Luke?" I try again. "I'm okay. I'm here for you."

Luke looks up and smiles sadly. "I know, Mom. He's still with us."

I take my hand off his shoulder and step back, shocked.

Over the next week, I slowly piece together the ends and outs of my nonexistent afterlife. Luke cannot see or hear me on a regular basis. Only when he needs me does he ever hear anything. I eventually decide that he can't hear the words, only feel the sentiment.

And so, I go with Luke wherever he goes. I am with him when he meets a woman, and I nudge him in her direction. I am with him when he proposes, calming his nerves. Same on his wedding day, and when each of his three children are born.

I comfort him when our mother dies, happy and contented. When Death comes to take her, Luke is fully unaware of the conversation that happens in the room.

Death looks surprised to see me. "I expected you to be gone by now."

I roll my eyes. "I don't know where you thought I would go. You couldn't take me, remember? I had to figure it out myself."

My mother steps out of the shadows, her eyes fixed on Death. "You're here for me, I assume?"

"Mom?" My voice cracks.

She turns and her eyes widen at the sight of me. She dashes forward and hugs me tightly. "What are you doing here? I hoped to see you, I just didn't think it would be so soon!"

I gently pull myself out of the embrace, tears forming in my eyes. "I can't go with you. I've been here all this time, watching over Luke and you, because I can't go on."

My mother looks shocked. "But why?"

I shrug. "I wasn't supposed to die that day. There's no place for me."

My mother is crying. "You know we always loved you, right? We tried to make you happy."

Death clears his throat. "Touching, but we really ought to get going."

"No!" Mom shouts. "Why? Why can't he come too?"

Death sighed. "He wasn't supposed to die that day, he told the truth. There must have been something he left unfinished."

I shake my head. "I don't know what it is, Mom. I've tried. I'll be okay. I'll look after Luke and his family. Maybe I'll see you again someday."

Death takes her, glancing over his shoulder at me with a nod. I return it, waving at my mother as she disappears.

The years pass. Eventually, I start helping Luke's children, whispering in their ears when they fight, filling them with remorse. Calling out for them to be careful crossing the street, narrowly avoiding a car. Guiding them away from the meaner kids, and leading them to their new nest friends.

When my twin brother dies, the scene with Death repeats itself. This time it's harder to let go.

Death and I explain the problem to Luke, but he doesn't accept it, shouting at us. Even when I promise to look out for his kids, all he can do is scream, tears rolling down his cheeks.

I walk away first, sobbing.

Many years later, Luke's daughter gives birth to twins. I immediately fall in love with them. Over the years, I help them over and over again, as I had been doing for ages.

Then came the fateful day. Death appeared out of nowhere as I was watching the 17 year old twins at a school dance.

Death sits down next to me. "Well, your time is just about done."

"What?!" My jaw drops. "Really? You're going to take me this time? Why?"

Death sighs. "You'll see."

I scan the crowd, looking for the twins. I find Kaleb easily, but not Kylie.

A few seconds later, a scream erupts from the back of the room. The crowd parts for teachers rushing through, revealing Kylie, lying on the floor.

Death stands.

"No!" I shout, grabbing at him. "I'll stay! You can't take her!"

Death pulls free of my grasping hands. "It's already too late." He points a long, pale finger, and I see Kylie's spirit in the corner, looking around confused.

I run up to her, followed closely by Death.

"Am I...dead?" She asks, unsure.

"Please," I whisper, standing in front of her. "Don't take her."

"Wait, I know you!" Kylie exclaims. "Grandpa Luke's brother! But you've been dead for like eighty years!"

Death shakes his head at me. "I'm not taking her. I'm taking you. She will stay."

Kylie looks even more confused now. "But...I'm dead, aren't I? How can I stay?

I draw in a breath. "Kylie, I've spent my time helping my family. They, I guess you, could sometimes hear me, like a little voice in their heads. You can probably do the same."

Death reaches for my hand.

I scramble back. "No, wait! Kylie, I thought this would be forever. I wasn't supposed to die young. Neither were you! Maybe that's why this is happening. You have to live first, do something worthwhile before you can pass on."

Death succeeds in grabbing my hand this time and starts to pull me away.

"You'll be okay, Kylie!" I shout back to her. "We'll be waiting for you!"

Death and I leave Kylie behind, looking bewildered.

We step through a dark veil, and when we emerge on the other side I see the most wonderful sight I'd ever seen.

My family.

Death looks at you, baffled. “You’re not supposed to be dead.” You raise a brow. “I’m not?” “Nope,” Death says. “Huh… that’s never happened before.” Confused, you ask, “Do I get to go to an afterlife now?” Death shrugs. “You can’t, because you’re not officially dead.”

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

"Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." - C. S. Lewis

Katie flung the door open and ushered the young king inside quickly, apologizing profusely.

King Dominick rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m inside now. Thank you.”

Katie stared for a moment as he took off his coat and hat and hung them by the door. 

“Uh, what can I do for you, Your Highness?” she asked awkwardly, gesturing for him to sit down.

The king sighed. “Truthfully, I just need a place to wait out the storm until some of my men can find me. Stupid storm came out of nowhere and my horse…couldn’t make it through. Stepped in a hole.”

Katie winced. “Is he…still out there?” 

King Dominick shrugged. “Couldn’t let him suffer out there for who knows how long.”

The wind howled outside, startling them both. Katie walked over the window and looked out. 

She turned back to the king slowly. “I hate to have to tell you this, Your Highness, but you might be stuck here longer than you thought. Snow storms especially are pretty bad here in the valley. Could last for a few days. And if no one knows where you are…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

He sighed, his head dropping into his hands. “Call me Dominick. If I’m going to be here for a while, we might as well dispense with the formalities. And your name is?”

“Katie,” she mumbled, slightly shocked. She shook herself out of her stupor and rushed into the kitchen, bringing back a bowl of soup for each of them. 

“Glad I made extra,” she joked with a half-smile.

They didn’t speak as they picked at their food. Neither of them said much as Katie showed Dominick to her guest room for the night.

They weren’t sure how it happened. One day, they were barely speaking, their relationship strained from proximity and difference in social class. Then the next day, they were laughing together like old friends.

It took two days for the snow to stop. Another two days for it to melt enough to travel. By then, Dominick was all too happy to wait for someone to find him, praying they would take their time.

Almost a week after the snow melted, the dreaded moment finally came with a pound on the front door of Katie’s cottage.

The two looked at each other, their eyes wide with a mixture of relief, fear, and sadness. 

Katie slowly rose and trudged over to open the door without a word, reverting back to the beginning when they barely spoke.

Dominick lunged and grabbed Katie’s wrist. “Wait,” he said desperately.

She looked at him, taking a deep breath and redrawing the lines they had slowly torn down. “Yes, Your Highness?”

Dominick winced. “Wait,” he said again.

The pounding on the door resumed, startling them.

Katie moved toward the door again. “We’re out of time. You need to go back to your life and I need to go back to mine.” She gently pulled her hand away, turning so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes.

Dominick reached for her again, but Katie pulled the door open, and the guards on the other side erupted in cheers.

They were all so busy thanking Katie and bundling Dominick onto a horse, that every guard missed the look Dominick was giving her.

Katie ignored the burning in her eyes as she watched them ride away.

A week later, a letter arrived for Katie. She burned it. For the next several months, letters kept arriving, sometimes, days apart, sometimes a week, but all from Dominick.

Katie burned every single one.

"who's this?" "it's the fucking king of England, that's who it is. Now open up, I'm drenched and I'm cold" answered a voice from the outside. "really funny sir. And original, I haven't heard this one since… Oh I'm sorry your highness"

"Whoa, dude!" I yelp, throwing my hands into the air. "Chill out!"

He groans. "I don't know how you found out. I tried so hard to hide it. I really liked you, Chris."

"Easy, Jay," I say slowly, my hands still held up. "You don't have to freak out. I promise, I won't tell anyone."

Jay scoffs. "Like hell. I know that's not true. In the unlikely scenario that you don't immediately run to the cops, it would slip out at some point, to someone. I can't risk it."

I try not to laugh. "No, really. I'm a hacker. Not as cool as yours, but I avoid cops like the plague. I've actually worked with a few...friends of yours."

The gun lowers a bit, Jay's face scrunched in suspicion. "Really. Who?"

I start counting on my fingers. "Altair, Nightshade, Morgan, Judas, and Kurt. I think that's it? I could be wrong. You know, several of these people use the same code names. Real inconvenient."

Jay blows out a breath, lowering the gun completely. "Thank God. I really didn't want to have to pull that trigger. I don't really do that anymore."

"Huh. You don't say." I eyeball the gun dangling in his hand lazily. "Wanna out that away maybe?"

"Oh this?" He snorts, then tosses it over his shoulder in the direction of his bed. He laughs when he sees the horrified look on my face.

"It's not loaded. It isn't even real!"

Today you just found out your roommate with strange hobbies, like knowing how to pick a lock, knows how every puzzle and cipher by heart, or how to commit tax fraud, and so many other things, wasn't a guy with ADHD, he was an ex-assassin and now you have a gun pointed at your face

She gapes at me.

I sigh. "Not what you expected me to say, Brienne?"

She shakes her head. Finding her voice, she stammers, "I- I- didn't know-"

"Yes!" I say with a single, bitter laugh. "That was intentional. I do not, and will not, regret the time we spent together. Both as coworkers and as suitors. What I regret is giving up so much of myself in the process."

Brienne frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "I never asked you to do that. You can't put that on me, Ari."

I rub a hand down my face, trying to stay calm. "I'm not! I didn't even mind being in your shadow. What I minded, is that you never acknowledged what I was doing for you. I felt more for you than you did for me, and I knew that. That's why I didn't say anything." My eyes flash with sadness. "I didn't want to hear you say the words I knew you felt."

She opens her mouth, but I shake my head. "We're done. This," I gesture between us. "It's over. We were happy, but we aren't anymore, so it's time to move on. Goodbye."

I turn and walk away without waiting for her response.

She didn't even try to give one.

"Don't say you regret it. Before... before everything, we were happy."

"Happiness is relative. I must consider what I might have been capable of if I had not contented myself to live in your shadow so long."

"You weren't—"

"Hush. You want to dredge up the past? You want to know if there is something there to salvage? Fine. It is my greatest regret that I ever loved you."