I’m not really into this year’s Drawlloween art prompts (I’m sorry to say) so I enlisted some of my wonderful friends @beefcakeboss @dirtypoodle @edstagram______ @grahamnolan and @kalel_sonofkrypton to help me come up with some thirstier, sexier Halloween art prompts! So I’ll be using this calendar… feel free to play along if you wanna! #homoween2018 #ByronPower #Halloween https://www.instagram.com/p/Bnlg9MPAo8H/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1illybg0l3qdk
CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW DIFFERENT THIS IS??? because as someone who works in digital marketing, my jaw literally dropped.
When I put out an ad for a client on Facebook, I can target like… new moms in their 30s who are looking for furniture within a 10-mile radius. Or people who have an anniversary coming up. People who have just moved. People who are in a new relationship. People who have elementary school kids and tend to vote Republican. People who have liked certain Pages. It’s absolutely unnerving.
the utter chaos of this, though.
it’s just… incredible.
Honestly though, as someone myself who works in infosec and data privacy, what this suggests to me is that Tumblr either doesn’t have, or isn’t willing / able to use, that detailed targeting information about its users. Which is great!! Every other company out there - not just social media companies but everything from your grocery store to your car insurance company to your operating system provider - actively collects as much demographic data as it can about its users specifically for this kind of ad targeting purposes.
Obviously Tumblr still collects some data and uses it for ad targeting; they do have this in their Privacy settings:
But the fact that they’re either unable, or are choosing not, to make that data available to people buying Blaze posts is such a huge win for data protection and a giant thumbing of the nose to the FAANGs who believe that the only way to make ad revenue work is to make ads as targeted as possible.
I can’t express how much I hope Blaze succeeds with this insane and chaotic model. XD
Kids. Teenagers. As someone staring 40 in the face lemme tell you a thing.
You are going to be horrified and embarrassed at some point by the shit you are doing now.
And you are going to wish with all your might you’d done moreof it.
You’re gonna wish you had more selfies, more photos, more videos being dumb with your friends. You’re going to wish you’d had your hair even higher or your shoes even sparklier.
Go. Document the shit out of your ridiculous life. Fuck trends but if you wanna be trendy, go all in. Fuck in-groups and subcultures but if one sings to you, do it all. Be exactly as cool or punk rock or goth or fandom or country or hardcore or hip hop or whatever, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.
Just don’t hurt people. That’s the only thing you’ll ever genuinely live to regret.
I think I have talked about this before, but because life doesn’t end at twenty or thirty or forty or fifty and thinking that folks are going to fall out of social media or that there won’t always be someone your age and my age and twice both of our ages interested in [insert anything, ever] is a very limiting worldview.
Somewhere there is a sixty-five year old who unironically loves Taylor Swift’s music and a fifty-two year old writing Superwholock fanfic and a ninty year old who absolutely livesfor the next episode of Archer and a seventy-one year old that can kick anyone’s ass in k-pop trivia. There will always be these folks, and all the Internet has done is give fans of all ages a chance to interact in a way that they never had before.
Before BBSes and the Internet and Usenet and the World Wide Web and fanrings and forums and social media, those people would just love it in their own way, in the privacy of their own homes. But now anyone can make an Ao3 account or a basic fansite or tumbl about whatever they want, and sometimes you’re gonna learn those people are old but they still getit, and sometimes you’re going to find out those folks are still kids, twelve or fourteen at the oldest, and marvel at their maturity and skill and attention to detail.
And that is rad as hell, that is fucking incredible, that is… whatever the kids are saying these days, hah.
As a sidenote, once, about a decade ago, I decided to email one of my favourite authors before she bit it … she was pushing 90 at the time. ( … she’s still alive now).
Anyways, we got to having a long discussion, because I shared my deadname with her late husband, and I actually had quite a long conversation with her.
The part of the conversation I’d like to share with you about this now pushing 100-tear-old author isn’t that she developed a liking for her breakfast eggs from her honeymoon in Vienna, or that her Husband would sometimes steal her drafts to read them as soon as he could, or that she superglued a potted plant to her bookshelf to watch her orange cat try to knock it over and fail.
Nono, I mention this to bring up what she would do as a writing exercise whenever she didn’t feel like writing her serious work.
In short, erotic darkwing duck slashfic. You can find it online.
This is the greatest addition this post has gotten so far.
I ever so desperately want Nishida to have some kinda silent beef with Minami. Not even beef but silent judgement of his character like Kiryu or Saejima ask Nishida his opinion of the family nowadays and he just goes tf off.
im still so in love with the way pat and pran continued to bicker and compete even once theyd gotten together bc so many shows suddenly have the dynamic of a couple conpletely change once they get together which makes no sense bc the reason they work well together and like each other is bc of how their relationship was before they got together so changing it completely makes it feel inauthentic and truly like a loss of a great friendship in place of romance when it should be romance adding to a great friendship
So apparently round umpty-zillion of “people are killing fandom by not commenting” is going around, and I’ve seen a few posts trashing people for lurking/viewing/reading instead of actively participating.
My journal and my fic has always been a lurker-friendly zone. I think lurkers are great and people can fight me on this. Here’s why:
We all started out as lurkers. Or at least most of us did. Come on. I’m sure some people out there must’ve jumped into fandom with both feet and started writing and commenting right away, and good for you if you did! But I sure didn’t. I lurked for YEARS. And even now, though I’ve been in fandom since before Y2K, whenever I get into a new fandom or a new social media platform, I still lurk. I hang out around the fringes for awhile to get a feeling for the place before starting to participate. Back in the mailing list/bulletin board days, it was usually recommended that people do that on purpose, watch and listen and learn the local lingo and social rules before diving in. So you know what? You are not doing anything wrong and you are not doing anything that most of the people you see out there commenting and creating and reccing things haven’t done themselves.
We all have lurker days, weeks, months …. Nobody is 100% “on” all the time. Participating in fandom (commenting, reccing, creating content, and so forth) is WORK. It may be fun work, but it still takes effort! Even if you’re sometimes very active in fandom, then you’ll have life fall on your head or the brain weasels flare up, and you won’t have the time and energy to give. Don’t feel guilty about not being able to give fandom your extra spoons. No one in fandom has a right to demand a single spoon from you that you don’t want to give.
Some of today’s lurkers may be your friends tomorrow. How do I know this? Because I’ve made friends with some of them myself! I’ve had people delurk in my comments to say hi after YEARS of reading my fanfic without saying a word. Which I am totally okay with, by the way. And some of these people are good friends today.
So, in conclusion:
It is okay to feel too shy to come out of lurkerhood in fandom until you feel more comfortable there. It is fine, in fact, if you never do.
It is okay to be too busy and have too few spoons to comment or create stuff. You still have a perfect right to be in fandom and read and reblog whatever you want.
It is okay if you meant to comment on that fic or go back and press the kudos button but never got around to it.
It is okay if you have too many accounts already and don’t want to create a new one just to comment/participate on a social media platform.
It is okay if your personal situation (a stalker ex, controlling parents) makes it unsafe for you to create an account or comment on things.
It is okay if you can’t or don’t want to comment or do any of the other things that constitute non-lurkerhood, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation for why.
IT IS OKAY TO BE A LURKER.
yeah, i never thought about it, but it’s not good to make someone who’s shy or depressed or uncomfortable to feel like a parasite. fandom content is made to entertain, so if you’re showing up and enjoying stuff, that’s great.
Let’s frame it this way:
Creator manufactures product. This requires their personal touch, experience, skill set, and any training, all of which have taken the entirety of their lives to cultivate. This also requires the time it takes to produce the work, from concept to finished product. This also requires resources, which was probably a monetary investment into digital software or physical tools that must be replaced as used. It requires a workspace. It also includes labor, the physical act of doing these things, which depletes the mental and physical energy of the creator/laborer.
Creator offers product to public in exchange for compensation. This requires modifying their marketing technique to suit the platform(s)/stores it’s offered on/in. This requires modifying/formatting the product so that it is suitable for the platform(s)/stores. Creator must also generate advertising and archival information for the work so that it may be found by their audience. Creator must also select a platform suitable for transferring the product in exchange for the requested compensation.
Creator, once the product is out there, would like to work on more products. They like the idea of making the products and putting them into the world for consumer happiness, but they also need compensation because that is how they pay for the cost of the product: the labor, the resources, the manufacturing process, all that marketing—everything. They just need to get in touch with the consumer(s) to know what improvements could be made, or if their product was worth using resources, time, and skilled labor on in the first place. Compensation talks. If no one is buying, then that’s a surefire sign that no one wants your product and that you should stop selling it.
Now, you’d think that if a creator offers their product on a platform that allows them to ask for feedback (reviews/comments, shares, likes/kudos, etc.), that the exchange would be as follows: consumer consumes art in return for at least one or more forms of feedback, which can take anywhere from 1 second (kudos, like) to several minutes (comment) to make.
Creators aren’t mad because people are sampling their product, peeking in their storefront window, and just not digging it. They aren’t mad that someone got a sample of that awesome treat today, and vowed to come back the next day to make a full purchase. They’re not mad at the people who aren’t able to come in because of social anxiety, or because someone who hurts them is watching. They’re not mad at a bad day—they get bad days too, and know what it’s like to be in the red for spoons (as well as time, resources, labor, and actual money spent on providing resources/work space).
Creators are mad that people are coming into their store, unwrapping all the candy, eating it, and then leaving without so much as a wave hello or goodbye. They won’t even tell their friends where the store is. Creators are mad that customers are demanding more products without paying for the first one. They are mad that customers aren’t caring about store policy.
This would never fly with a commercial product. But yet it’s societally okay to do with art, particularly in fandom. Why is that? Because we don’t actually believe that art is work, or that artists have time and skills that are valuable.
Creators and consumers are just not speaking the same language. So maybe the above helps to illustrate why we’re so damn pissed and why we’re closing all our shops.
Hmm. Yes. I don’t think that lurking necessarily entails entitlement, though.
Oh god. I sat down to write an answer to this and wrote … a lot.
First of all, I’m a fanfic writer, artist, and vidder. I LOVE getting feedback on my work. I roll around in comments and nice tags like a cat in a field of catnip, believe me. People who leave feedback on my fic are awesome. <33333 So bear in mind as you read the following that I’m coming at this from a creator’s perspective. And, as a creative person, I agree that not putting enough value on creative work is a problem, societally speaking.
However.
The first problem I have with the above metaphor is that there are no physical goods involved here! There is an infinite amount of candy. There are no candy wrappers. Nothing is taken and no trash is left behind when someone reads a fic. An infinite number of people can still read the fic. No one else’s ability to read the fic is impaired.
But here’s the other, much bigger problem, and it’s what the rest of this tl;dr post is devoted to unpacking: blaming your customers for your lack of success will not make you a successful businessperson.
As well as writing fanfic, I’m also – as of the last couple of years – a pro writer; it’s what I do for a living now. Fanfic isn’t entirely like pro writing, but it does have some things in common with it, so since we’re talking about fanfic as a commodity, let’s run with that metaphor. Fanfic is “paid for” in comments and kudos; my pro novels are paid for with … well … money. So let’s say my books aren’t selling (i.e. your fic isn’t getting comments). There are many reasons why this could be! Now, it’s possible that my books aren’t very good. But let’s assume that’s not true. Let’s say that my books are excellent but they just aren’t being purchased. Why not? Here are some possibilities (and believe me, as a self-published author who makes a living off my work, I think about these things ALL THE TIME):
I’m marketing them poorly or inaccurately. Maybe my blurbs sound dull so people don’t go ahead and click to read the sample (which they will love, I just know it!). Maybe my romance books have covers and titles that make them look like suspense novels. Maybe I have them in the wrong categories. I need to look at other, more popular books similar to mine, and see what their authors are doing to advertise their books to readers, which is obviously working better than what I’m doing.
My books just aren’t very commercial. I’m writing lovely books that make my heart sing, but they’re not the genres and tropes that are selling well right now. In fanfic terms, this would be writing for the little fandom of your heart or the rarepair rather than the juggernaut pairing, or you just love writing sad love stories more than happy love stories. I can either train myself to write the popular genres and tropes, or I can resign myself to being less popular in return for the pleasure I get from writing books that satisfy me. (Both are equally valid solutions.)
You know what’s not going to help me sell more books? Blaming and shaming my readers for not buying them. They have a limited amount of money. They’re going to spend it on the books that look shiniest to them. A lot of people will NEVER buy my books, or anyone’s books, because they just don’t have the money. The rest must be enticed to do so. Yelling at these readers will not magically give them more money or miraculously endow them with a fondness for paranormal romance novels when they only read mysteries.
You can’t turn lurkers into commenters by trying to extort comments from them with guilt trips and threats to take your fic away, any more than you can turn non-buyers into book buyers by trying to guilt and shame them into buying your books. Fandom, take it from someone who markets her books for a living: that is a terrible marketing strategy.
Just as pro writers are trying to entice readers who have money into buying our books, you are trying to entice commenters into commenting on your fic. A lot of people will never comment for all the reasons in my above post. You cannot MAKE them comment. Instead, you have to get people who DO comment (who range from the people who comment on almost everything, to the people who can be enticed to comment once in a blue moon by a fic they simply ADORE) to spend their limited amount of commenting/reccing/kudosing time and energy on your fic by giving them a product they just can’t resist.
I could devote a whole ‘nother post to how to apply profic marketing strategies to making your fic more successful, should you want to. It’s not very fair, but it’s as true in fanfic as it is in publishing: the way you get more commenters is by expanding your audience (if only 1% of people comment, 1% of 10,000 people is a lot more than 1% of 100 people) and you do this by writing more popular fic. This means: writing popular tropes, writing popular fandoms, writing popular pairings. If you’d rather write the little pairing of your heart or break up every couple at the end of the fic because it feels right, that’s FINE! But it means that a mediocre 500-word curtainfic about the juggernaut big fandom pairing is going to get WAY more comments than your heartfelt 100K small fandom deathfic. Don’t blame your readers when you made that choice.
(I should mention that usually with fanfic, I just write the fics of my heart, whereas in profic I’m going for the crass commerciality. I really, truly love gen h/c, so I write a lot of it. I do not like writing erotica, so I rarely write it. If you like darkfic, you’ve got a tougher row to hoe than someone who writes curtainfic, because the audience is comparatively small, so you might have to work a little harder to find your niche. I realize this is unfair, but there’s not much you can do about it. If your readers want PWP instead of gen, you can either learn to write PWP, or write the best gen you can possibly write and cherish the comments you do get. Your readers are not withholding comments on your gen because they’re mean or lazy, I swear. It’s just that the audience for gen is more limited than the audience for, say, sexy slash.)
There’s also a huge element of chance to all of this. There is an awesome post by Penknife on LJ that calls this random element THE CLAW (from the movie Toy Story). I suggest reading the whole post because it’s excellent, but here’s Penknife’s basic description of the Claw concept as applied to fanfic:
See all the competently-written, nicely-formatted stories that a reasonable number of people have read, waiting in the big vending machine with all the other stories, looking hopefully upwards, waiting for the claw to descend and choose them? (It’s possible that this metaphor works less well if you’ve never seen Toy Story, but bear with me.) Every now and then the claw scoops up one of them, and it is this week’s Story that Ate Fandom, and it will be on twenty-six recs lists and get several hundred comments in a week.
And whether that is your story or not, you will never know why. The ways of the Claw are mysterious. The Claw usually picks good stories, but it doesn’t always pick the best story in any literary sense. It picks the story that is exactly what people want to read right now. Maybe it is a story that has actually never been done before in your fandom. Maybe it is a story that makes everyone who reads it feel good and leaves them in a warm fuzzy place full of love for your story and the world. Maybe it is about penguins, and right now what everyone really wants is penguins.
This happens in profic publishing all the time, by the way. Everyone wants to be grabbed by THE CLAW, and you can spend thousands of dollars on seminars and books to teach you how to get THE CLAW to grab your books, but what it comes right down to is, it will or it won’t. You cannot make THE CLAW grab your book, or your fic. However, you can make it more likely by honing your skills and, to be blunt, writing an absolute shit ton of fic.
I have actually had THE CLAW grab one of my fics. This happened to me in MCU fandom with the very first Captain America fic I ever wrote. It’s not my best fic, not my favorite fic, possibly not even a very good fic. However, I walked out of the theater after seeing Winter Soldier desperately wanting Steve/Bucky reunion fic. So I slammed one out and posted it. It turned out to be one of the first ones, in a pairing that turned into a juggernaut overnight, and the kudos on that fic went off the charts. It’s still my most-kudosed fic by far.
But before that, I wrote literally MILLIONS OF WORDS of fanfic in dozens of fandoms over the course of 15 years. I worked my ass off writing fanfic. Some of my fic was pretty popular. Some of it got zero comments, not even one. I wrote in popular fandoms. I wrote in fandoms so small I had to create the fandom tag on AO3. I wrote long WIPs and worked hard to update on time. I asked for prompts and wrote ficlets for people. I participated in fic exchanges. I ran exchanges. Basically I have spent 15+ years fandoming my little heart out.
And I could not have ever had THE CLAW grab that fic if I hadn’t written those millions of words, sometimes for very little reward other than the sheer pleasure of writing, because a) all that practice is how I got to the point where I could walk out of the theater, sit down, slam out 5K of competently feelsy fic, pick an attention-grabbing title, and (by total accident) put up a fic just in time for the movie-going masses to come looking for it, and b) the more fic you throw out there into the world, the more likely it’ll be that you actually will manage to hit pay dirt.
And I still got lucky, I know. There is also a negative version of THE CLAW. You are not guaranteed success, in fandom or in profic writing. You can do literally everything “right.” You can write the popular fandoms and pairings and tropes. You can type until your fingers hurt. You can put up fic after fic on AO3 and become a damn good writer and still never achieve even modest success.
This is not fair. I hate seeing friends fail to achieve the success I know they deserve. But inexplicable lack of success happens to just as many people as inexplicable success does.
Guys,fanfic and profic will both break your heart sometimes. There is no question about it; they just will. You’ll pour your heart and soul into a story only to watch it sink like a stone. You’ll write the best damn fic you can write and then watch someone else’s fic, that does ALL THE SAME THINGS, get recced everywhere while people ignore yours. You’ll read a fic that is absolutely perfect, that makes your heart sing, and the only comment on it will be yours. There is no “if” about this, only “when.”
This is not your readers’ fault. This is not your fault. And blaming your readers for being inadequately appreciative will not make you more successful.
Lydia’s heart was racing, the palms of her hands sweaty where she gripped the leather knot of the leash, a million ‘what if’ scenarios crowding her mind. Meeting Colton’s green eyes, she could see him reeling with it, too.
That brought her back to the situation at hand. She could deal with her own shock later. Whatever had been done to turn Col into the pet he was now surely made him ill-equipped to handle… this.
He was breathing uncomfortably, seemingly fighting for each gulp of air. Fixing that was high up on a list of potential priorities.
“Hey Col,” she said, hearing the shake of fear and adrenaline in her own voice. “I’m just going to take your collar off for a bit, all right?” She dropped the leash and held up her hands in what she hoped was a calming gesture. “You are still good. You are not in any trouble and you can wear it again later, if you want to. Is that okay with you?” His green eyes focused slowly on her face, and he managed a tiny nod. “All right, then. That’s good. Thank you for communicating so clearly with me. It’s all good.” Lydia stopped paying attention to what she said, just focused on keeping her tone of voice calm and friendly as she reached up… and up, he was quite a bit taller than Coriander… and unbuckled the collar, letting it fall to the floor.
He took a deep breath, like a person on the verge of drowning. She could feel him swaying a bit on his feet. Slowly, and gently, she put a hand on his arm. The pet started, but did not pull away.
“Here, come on. Have a seat.” She led him towards his bed, and he obediently sank down on it. “That’s good, that’s good.”
She looked around the room, casting about for what to do. Her gaze fell on the little fridge in the corner and she took the few steps over to rummage around in it. The small freezer compartment held ice cubes wrapped in blue plastic. Perfect.
Lydia grabbed the ice and closed the freezer. Inside the fridge itself were tiny bottles of wine and spirits, rum, vodka, whiskey, tequila. Let’s not give strong liquor to unfamiliar pets in shock. That’s probably a good rule to live by. She laughed to herself, feeling the tinge of hysteria in her own mood. Colton turned his head to stare at her, she guessed he didn’t see much humour in the situation.
Instead of the alcohol, she chose a blue-green can of Sprite. The silver metal shine of the top of the can forcefully reminded her of the glint of a knife in the shadows. What if Col hadn’t been there? If she had been alone on that dark street? Would he just have made off with her purse, or… Just don’t think about it. She told herself sternly. You can worry about that later.
Lydia suddenly remembered something Carla had told her, while she was going to a dog training class with Cassie, ‘Dogs can’t eat and be afraid at the same time,’ she’d said. Perhaps that worked the same on people? She grabbed the chocolate bars, too, as well as the two upside-down glasses from the shelf next to the desk. Filling her arms with her looted treasure, she dumped it all unceremoniously on top of her own bed.
“Now, let’s see…” She grabbed one of Cory’s t-shirts and wrapped it around the bag of ice. “Here…” When she handed it to Col, he just blinked up at her, uncomprehending. “For your hand.” She clarified. When he didn’t move, she sat down next to him on the bed, making sure to still keep some distance between them. She reached out and took his large hand in hers. Even though she was prepared for Col to flinch, the sharp start he gave made her flinch too. He stared at her, mutely. She just realised that she hadn’t heard him utter a single word since the incident.
“You can speak, Col,” she said softly. “It’s okay.”
“Pets shouldn’t be on the furniture, Ma’am,” he said robotically, and she realised he wasn’t staring at her, he was staring just past her into nothingness. She was used to him averting his eyes, or making unsure eye contact. She’d never seen him look so… far away, before.
“Col?”
“I’m sorry,” he tried again, with just enough emotion for his voice to wobble. His hand was shaking in her own.
Lydia slowly moved a hand in front of Colton’s eyes, but nothing changed. He didn’t even flinch. Okay, she thought, this isn’t the time to have meaningless battles.
“Let’s go onto the floor, then,” she said, and the fact it was an order must have worked its way through Col’s haze, since he moved and obeyed. She continued holding his hand as they shifted down. It seemed like the right thing to do. Like Col was a ship that needed mooring.
Lydia had braced herself for begging, but once again she had to accept the fact that this wasn’t Coriander in front of her.
The tall man slumped clumsily down on the floor, his back against the metal frame of his bed. He wasn’t looking at her. With her free hand, she took the oddly shaped, blue lump that was made of ice wrapped in t-shirt and held it against Col’s red knuckles. Holding his battered hand steadily, she could feel slow tremors running through him, like a deep undercurrent of fear.
She decided she should keep talking to him, even if she knew she wouldn’t get much of a reply. She could be an anchor, right now. Composed and unchanging and certainly not angry.
“Were you… uh-” she faltered. What was a word for guard dog that wasn’t, well, that. “Were you trained to be defensive of your owner like that?”
“No,” Col whispered.
“Wow,” she said. “I suppose it was just- just instinct. In a good way,” she quickly clarified. Col flinched almost imperceptibly, and Lydia felt as if she’d just wedged him even further down his dark hole. He didn’t move, or speak.
She ran a finger a little further up Col’s hand, to his wrist, and felt his heartbeat hammering against her fingertip. He was eerily calm on the surface, but she could tell it was just cloaking the sheer terror he felt underneath. She tried to get into his mind. Obviously attacking a human would warrant a terrible punishment. How could she convince him that he didn’t deserve it?
“Thank you for saving me,” she said, and she meant it. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there, Col. I’m so happy, and relieved. You were a really good boy. You didn’t hurt him any more than you had to.”
He just stared, but that was okay. She reached back up to the bed, twisting so as not to let go of Col’s hand, and picked up the chocolate bars. One for her and one for him.
She set it on the ground in front of him, explaining as she did so. “This is for you. You must be tired, after we ran all that way. I’m going to eat one too.”
She thought she saw him glance down at it, just for a second.
*
Col was still floating, still not fully there, but as he watched himself and Lydia in the room, he could see the bar of chocolate offered to him. It reminded him of Master, the time Col had been too scared to even leave his room. Master had put down a bar of something too, hadn’t he? Left it there for Col to eat, and it wasn’t a trap, or a test.
It had been nice. Had helped Col re-enter his body and face the world again. But was that just what Lydia wanted? Or could she and Master have the same strangely kind intentions after all?
*
“Can you focus on that bar of chocolate? Can you… tell me what colour the wrapper is?”
It looked like it was a great effort, but Col dragged himself out of his thousand-mile stare and did his best to focus.
“It’s gold, Ma’am.”
“Very good. What shape is it?”
“A rectangle, Ma’am.”
“Good. And does it feel nice, when I hold you hand like this?”
“Yes,” Col said, his voice cracking. “It does, Ma’am. I don’t deserve it. I’m so sorry.”
He was breaking down, but he seemed to be coming back to reality. Lydia squeezed his hand and he pressed his eyes shut, his lips twisted with unshed tears.
“You are being really good.” He heard her say, distantly.
Col’s knuckles throbbed with dull pain. The ice covered by plastic and thin cloth was burning cold against his skin. Was this a punishment? For a moment he felt relief, if so, he knew where he stood. The pain would be terrible and he feared that he would never recover, but at least it would make sense.
But no. The gentle way she held his hand, the chill against the bruises, it all clicked into place like a photographic lens snapping into focus. This wasn’t punishment, it was treatment.
Lydia slowly let go of his hand, let it rest limply on top of the ice on the floor. With careful movements she reached out for the chocolate, unwrapped the golden paper wrapper and then the crinkly, metal foil underneath.
“Open your mouth, please.” She saw it then, the spark of raw fear in his eyes. Colton still obeyed immediately. Lydia broke off a small square of the chocolate. She hesitated for a moment, but then reached out and placed it in his mouth. “Please eat it.”
He chewed and swallowed dryly. Those fearful green eyes never leaving her face. But at least he was focusing on her now.
“That’s great. You are being very obedient. That is well done.” Lydia said, knowing that at the moment her tone, calm and encouraging and friendly, was vastly more important than the actual words. “Here, have another piece.” He opened his mouth automatically to receive it. While he chewed, she absentmindedly took a piece for herself, and then placed the rest of the bar on the floor. She reached out and took his hand in hers again. Slowly, Lydia reached her free hand towards his face, gently resting her palm against his cheek.
Colton didn’t lean into her touch the way that Cory would have done. He stiffened, she could almost feel him holding his breath, but he didn’t pull away. His green eyes were firmly fixed on her now, frightened, but also filled with something akin to… awe?
Lydia didn’t understand his reaction, but at least she had his undivided attention.
“Colton”, she said “I want to tell you something very important, all right?”
He nodded, his skin warm and slightly scratchy underneath her hand.
“I’m not angry with you and you did nothing wrong.” She aimed for firmness, still hearing the shake of nerves in her own voice. “You might have saved us both. That man was dangerous and…” Lydia broke off, she wasn’t ready to think about what might’ve happened yet. “It was the right call.” She finished up instead. “Thank you, Col. You did really well.”
Were there tears in his eyes? Lydia suddenly had an idea.
“You know,” she said eagerly, “What if we try to call Linden? Would you like to talk with him for a bit?”
