#left4ever

[voiceoftheflies]

Lost two followers. Fuck.

[fannishflightsoffancy]

Mad T Party fic: Crossed Wires: B Sides (5/?)

Title: Crossed Wires: B Sides (5/?)

Author: Avarice. 

Rating: PG. 

Disclaimer: This is based on characters, not actual people. Never actual people. 

Summary: Early morning introspection and regret. An invitation not to be refused. The shortening of a very long fuse. Mad deflection skills. The pool and personal realisations. Building resentment and escape. A hand injury. Fracturing. 

Thanks to: I have to do something a bit more detailed this time, because this chapter gave me so much trouble. And y’all need to know who helped me get through it.

Dor is probably my biggest supporter and my biggest fan. She reads over everything and played a huge part in helping make CW what it is (and it’s something I’m very proud of). She continues to look over B Sides and offer her thoughts, and helps me clean up typos. Thank you for your time and your friendship and love. <3

Elise is my Thackery voice. She digs deep into his brain and makes me explain it further when I’ve just glossed over details, and sends me long emails discussing many and varied topics. She is the voice of my conscience when I do horrible things to Thackery :D. And she reads everything blind from the perspective of the audience, having no idea where I’m going with the arc, and so giving great insight as to how the story is unfolding. Your instincts on Thackery are unparalleled, Elise. Thank you for your effort and dedication :) <3

Sarah is my all-rounder. While she doesn’t know minute details, she has a good idea of where I’m going. She spends time workshopping ideas, has a great sense of the rest of the characters in the story, and always (and I love this the best) tells me when i’ve written something really good, and also prods me to expand when I haven’t done enough. I find this invaluable, and feel that my second and third drafts are always so much better for this. And THEN she STILL leaves me huge long feedback even after being privy to all this! I LOVE that. :D Thank you so much. <3

Fandom: Thank you guys for your support. I wish I could get these out faster for you, but know that I’m always working on it. I hope you enjoy, and as always, I love hearing from you guys. Please don’t be shy to leave me a comment or an opinion if you have one. It fills me with puppies and sunshine :D Also.. 8.6k for this one. They’re getting longer…..

Timeline: This chapter intersects with part 7 and 8 of Crossed Wires. To refamiliarise yourself with this, or with previous parts, please visit my fic list HERE. 

***

You’re standing in a deep dark hole

Beneath a sky as black as coal

It’s just the fear of losing control

You know so well

- In My Command, Crowded House

It was still warm, and Thackery found it difficult to sleep. There was the air conditioner, but something about how it dried out his very skin made him feel uncomfortable. Unable to really sleep until the early hours of the morning when the temperature finally dropped, he’d ended up powering through The Hobbit until the book was finished.

He fell into an exhausted sleep for a short time after that, waking when the sun had risen once again and heated up his room. Thackery had forgotten to close the curtains the night before, and a warm shaft of yellow light fell across his bed, making his skin itch.

When Thackery woke, the first thing he did was look to the books Eve had given him.

He got out of bed and stretched, shoulders popping painfully. The hare walked over to the bags and peered into them. They had been organised into the reading order he would’ve preferred to begin with, then Mally had put in his observations, and the order had changed.

Thackery’s fingers twitched. The order was all wrong. And since when did he read things in Mally’s preferred order, anyway?

In a fit of pique, Thackery pulled out all of the books and scattered them on the floor.

He spent the next hour walking between the tomes, arranging and rearranging them into a preferred reading order right for him.

While the books were being suitably rearranged, Thackery’s stomach made a wretched gurgle. He abandoned the books in piles on the floor to find the phone instead. The hare ordered something that sounded like breakfast from room service, and went to peek out the window.

Thackery sat on his windowsill, bending his right leg up and loosely gripping it as he watched. People looked like ants on the bottom floor — less like the tiny carpenter ants they’d look like if he were higher up in the building, more like larger, blacker bullet ants with large jaws and stingers — and the hare became distracted by their individual pursuits.

Much like their insect counterparts, each person in the courtyard below seemed to walk with an apparent purpose.

A couple crossed the pavement, arm in arm, heading for breakfast.

A cleaner, whistling as he worked, swept up a stray piece of trash into his dustpan.

Three girls in their teens wearing mouse ears giggled and ran across the pavers, their footsteps echoing in his ears.

A man grasped the hand of his tiny son and led him across the courtyard with tottering steps, swooping to grab him before he fell on his padded bottom.

Thackery ground his teeth and turned away.

Everyone seemed to move about with a purpose that Thackery envied. Especially after last night, the hare felt quite lost. Directionless.

Thackery’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as he thought back to the previous night, and he anxiously rose to go look at the order of his books again, changing one pile about absently. After the brief pleasure of seeing Jordan and her father again, the rest of Thackery’s night had well and truly gone to crap.

Mally’s sycophantic behaviour towards Alice hadn’t let up, and as the night had worn on, he’d only gotten worse. Coming close to her at any opportunity, avidly getting between her and anyone else that she happened to interact with onstage; even Absolem and Tarrant.

And of course, Thackery.

The hare picked up two books from one of his ‘to read immediately’ piles and half-tossed them onto his over-cluttered desk with little care. Alice had always spared the hare some very sweet interactions, but they hadn’t happened at all. Because every time he turned around, Mally was there.

Thackery felt like he couldn’t breath on stage, and it wasn’t regular breathless excitement; it was cold, gripping panic.

He’d had to duck past Absolem’s keyboard at one point and take a sip from the caterpillar’s water bottle just to satisfy the dryness that had set into his mouth and throat. Absolem had looked at him oddly, but Thackery turned away, not wanting to be scrutinised.

The hare enjoyed performing with his friends greatly, but that was the first time — apart from their first few gigs in Underland when they were rather terrible and got booed off stage — that Thackery had truly felt… bad. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to associating with performing.

But he’d kept on like a good little soldier. Feeling horrible just made his physical presence kookier, his faces stranger. People laughed at him out in the audience and they were laughing at someone else, not him. This stupid, clowning march hare with a big red bass and a ridiculous green outfit.

Not Thackery, never Thackery.

A knock on the door sounded and Thackery jumped, dropping the book in his hands. He stepped over it and went to the door, opening it a crack. Room service was there. He took the tray, remembered to press some money into the palm of the waiting busboy as dictated by local custom, and shut the door in his face.

With his bed unmade and half-covered in books and clothes, Thackery decided to sit on the floor. He lifted the trays and found a sandwich and a pudding; not terribly breakfast-y after all. He began leafing through a nearby book as he ate absently, shutting the cover briefly and tossing it onto another pile.

Sometime between three-quarters of the sandwich and half of the pudding, his cell rang. Thackery stood quickly, the tray bouncing across the floor like a skipped stone into a lake. He dug for the phone through disorganised piles of things on his desk, before remembering the cell was on the bedside.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Thackery stumbled to the nightstand, tripping over the lip of his guitar case where it poked out from beneath his bed, and cursed.

He picked up the cell and connected it, not seeing the caller ID with his shortsightedness.

"Hello." He spoke with a note of strain, sitting on the edge of his bed to massage abused toes.

"Hi, Thackery!" the cheerful voice of Alice answered, and Thackery exhaled sharply through his lips.

"Hi."

"Are you okay? You sound funny."

Thackery grimaced. “Stubbed my toe," he answered shortly.

"Ah, owie," Alice said. “How did you sleep?"

The hare sighed. “Okay, I guess."

"Are you busy this morning?" Alice pushed on.

Thackery’s lips turned down, chin jutting out. Questions, questions, more questions. Even thinking of simple answers made his head hurt. Nothing was simple, and he no longer had any desire to provide answers.

"Why?" He retorted with a question of his own.

"We thought you might like to come down to the pool and cool off. It was pretty hot last night."

The suggestion gave Thackery good reason to pause. He’d always enjoyed swimming, and had often been in many of Underland’s greater and lesser-known lagoons, rivers and lakes. He closed his eyes, imagining being submerged in icy water, feeling his ears float on the surface and the water ripple past his legs as he kicked slowly to tread water.

In fact, some of the moments he’d been most at peace in his life had happened in the water. Perhaps a swim could be a not-unkind reminder of home, of peaceful, calming things on this scorching day.

Thackery’s brows furrowed as he tried to hold onto those thoughts, but there was a caveat in Alice’s offer; a warning. It niggled at his mind and the calm water turned into a whirlpool, threatening to submerge him. He raced through the singer’s words again before it became apparent.

Oh, yes.

That.

“‘We’?" he queried with a sinking stomach, opening his eyes.

"Yes! Mally and I are on our way there now. We thought maybe you and Tarrant would like to join us."

Thackery brought his hand up to his forehead, tugging jerkily at some of his hair, pulling it down in front of his face. The pain receptors in his scalp shocked him out of the funk temporarily. It seemed that he had two options: go swimming with his friends, or attempt to clean his room.

"Okay," he blurted out, mouth answering before his brain could think up any reservations.

Thackery’s eyes widened, and he sat up rigidly. What did he just say? And why did he just say it?

"Great!" Alice responded ardently, and her enthusiasm prodded his nerves. “Could you contact Tarrant, let him know?"

It was too late to change his mind, and a different response would just raise too many questions. No more questions.

Thackery’s body slumped from its stiff posture like a marionette with its strings cut. “Okay," he repeated, his voice dropping to a miserable octave. 

"See you soon," Alice said cheerily, and Thackery mumbled what might’ve been a farewell.

Thackery sighed and threw his phone on the rumpled comforter, before flinging his body backwards on the mattress, too. He stared at the ceiling without really seeing it. The hare let out a shuddering breath, before kicking his feet out to hoist himself back upright.

It was all about keeping the status quo. He was hot. Everyone knew he was hot. He could say ‘yes’ and tough it out like a grown up hare, or he could say ‘no’, and have to field endless questions as to why and wherefore. It would culminate in his friends probably turning up on his doorstep, wondering if he was okay, which he certainly wasn’t, but they couldn’t do anything about that anyway, and being put on the spot would probably make him crack and then—

Thackery took in a deep breath and pressed the heels of his hands into weary eyes.

Stop it, stop it, stop it, he told himself, trying to push away the relentless buzz with his hands. His thoughts were leading him nowhere good, nowhere healthy. All they were doing was making the bile rise in his throat, scorching it.

Thackery fumbled for the handset by his bed, but waited a few more minutes until he felt as though he could regain the powers of decent, polite conversation before punching in the numbers of Tarrant’s room. It took a few rings before the call connected and Tarrant answered.

"Helloooo?" the hatter answered tentatively.

"It’s me," Thackery said.

"Oh, good! It’s me, too!"

"I know," the hare responded.

"So I’m me, and you’re you… but who are you again?"

"Tarrant—"

"I thought I was Tarrant," the hatter said with confusion. “Maybe I was wrong…" he said, and Thackery sighed. “Maybe that makes me ‘Thackery’." Tarrant’s voice betrayed a note of panic. “But I can’t play bass!"

“I’m Thackery, you’re Tarrant," Thackery snapped.

"What a relief," Tarrant sighed. “That was a good game. Shall we play another?"

“Tarrant," Thackery barked. So much for decent, polite conversation.

"Yes, my friend?"

"Get dressed for swimming. We’re going to the pool."

Thackery hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he was going to go to the pool just to keep up appearances, damned if he was going to do it alone.

***

Thackery walked through the lobby of the Grand Californian, convinced all eyes were upon him and Tarrant. He wasn’t sure how much of that was his own paranoia, and how much of it was the hatter drawing attention to them both.

It was hard not to notice his redheaded friend, though.

Each of the band members had been furnished with a rudimentary human selection of clothes when they’d arrived, to be able to get around in. Since then, they’d added bits and pieces they’d found that suited, but in all honesty, Thackery hadn’t had much time or inclination to go clothes shopping, and largely stuck to what had been provided.

But occasionally, Alice took it upon herself to play dress-ups with all of them, and he had a dim memory that she’d gotten him something specifically to swim in. Thackery had dug a pair of knee-length board shorts in muted colours out of his wardrobe, strewing clothes from one end of his room to the other in the process. He teamed it with a red short sleeved shirt, some flip-flops, his deerstalker, and a pair of dark sunglasses.

Tarrant was somewhat more flamboyant in his rainbow shorts and open yellow shirt. It probably didn’t help in the ‘blending in’ stakes that Tarrant had completely covered one of the green plush hats he’d bought with plastic sandwich wrap in an effort to waterproof it. Thackery had suggested he just not wear it swimming, to be confronted by his friend looking utterly baffled, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

Thackery just shut up after that in the interests of keeping the peace, and even let Tarrant slather a lurid stripe of zinc across the bridge of his nose. All that did was make Thackery’s mood dip further, as he couldn’t even scratch his nose without getting nasty yellow goop under his fingernails.

Tarrant carried on a cheerful, largely one-sided conversation, of which the hare was very grateful, as it only required minimal effort and participation. He mostly focused on the path ahead of him, doing his best not to make eye contact with anyone else.

As they exited the elevator on the floor of the pool deck, Thackery absently rubbed his nose and smeared the zinc once again. He swore under his breath before uttering another little curse as it drew Tarrant’s attention. The hatter touched the back of Thackery’s hand gently.

"Thackery," Tarrant said softly, brow furrowed in concern that the hare couldn’t stand, “you don’t seem to be yourself. How are you feeling?"

The gentleness in Tarrant’s tone threatened to break Thackery’s heart. It started thumping irregularly in his chest, the sound actually causing his eardrums pain. He inclined his head a little away from Tarrant. The hare had to answer, there was no way around it or through it or under it or any whichway up or down and—

Clenching his teeth, Thackery reined his stampeding emotions in. It was the third time in as many days that Tarrant had questioned him about his erratic behaviour. If it were anyone else, they probably would’ve pulled him up more seriously.

But it was Tarrant, and Tarrant had his own way of dealing with sensitivity of the mind.

"I—" What? What to say? They still walked but the pace had been slowed now. If they stopped, Thackery wasn’t sure he’d start walking again.

"I’m feeling—" Feeling too many feelings, so many that he was haemorrhaging them through his very pores and soon he would be bled dry. A husk. A shell. And that would make him very, very ma—

"—homesick," Thackery finished, his voice low. He stamped down any hint of an expression, turning towards Tarrant with a composed blankness.

Tarrant’s dark eyes bore into his own, and Thackery was grateful for his dark shades, allowing him to look away without his friend knowing.

They lapsed into silence for the next few moments, though to Thackery it felt as though the hush lasted a few hours. The only sound in his ears was harsh, laboured breathing.

"It will be better soon," Tarrant said comfortingly.

Thackery nodded, but for once, Tarrant’s words failed to ease thoughts.

Silence was king once again, and the two friends continued to walk.

Bright light hit Tarrant and Thackery as they found themselves on the pool deck. There was moderate activity for the morning, but one thing Alice had failed to mention was exactly where they’d be. Tarrant looked to Thackery enquiringly, and he shrugged. “She didn’t say where," he answered the unspoken question.

Tarrant smiled back brightly, giving Thackery’s shoulder a friendly squeeze, which Thackery very gently pulled away from. “I guess we’ll have to go find them."

Thackery gave a jerky nod in response, and the pair walked across the decks. The hare’s eyes darted around, taking in the hotel’s patrons milling about the pool, children running about. Ordinarily the sound of their joy made him feel happy; right now each splash and yell made his ears twitch manically.

The first pool had no one familiar, so the musicians kept walking around the deck. A second pool came into view, one with a large slide and a few diving boards. Thackery’s eyes scanned the area, but his vision was slightly limited by the darkness of the glasses.

His ears, however, picked up the first indication of his friends. He stopped walking and grabbed Tarrant’s bicep. Tarrant stopped immediately, looking expectantly at the hare.

Alice was shouting, her voice rising an octave higher in panic as she screamed.

Screamed at Mally to leave her alone.

Thackery pointed a numb finger towards the larger pool. “There," he said to Tarrant, chin dropping to his chest briefly. His hair flicked forward, plastering itself to the side of his face and sticking uncomfortably.

Distracted, Tarrant went charging off in their direction while Thackery hung back, shuffling his feet that felt like lead.

Everything would just be all right if he could maintain his composure. The one thing Thackery couldn’t abide was abject scrutiny. He disliked it from strangers, but he abhorred it from his friends. As a performer he was under scrutiny all the time, but somehow that was different. He could hide himself in broad daylight; a caricature of a madman.

Off stage he was vulnerable. Defective.

Flawed.

Thackery held the back of his deerstalker in one hand, and pulled the brim down jerkily with the other. He laughed to himself bitterly. If he didn’t get it together and join his friends, he was liable to be reported to security for creepily loitering in the middle of the pool deck.

One step at a time, he approached the edge of the pool. Tarrant was already in the inviting water, but Thackery’s eyes drifted to the foreground to see Mally. With his back to the hare, it was easy to see the tension Mally carried in his shoulders as he watched Alice and Tarrant greet each other fondly.

"He wrapped his hat in cling film?" Thackery heard Mally mutter dubiously.

Thackery considered letting the comment slide, but he could talk to Mally. That would be normal and in no way out of the ordinary.

"It was better than his first suggestion of covering it in waterproof tar."

Ugh. Not bad, but not great.

Mally turned to look at Thackery, the frown that had been creasing his forehead most unattractively lightening somewhat. Thackery froze as Mally ran his gaze up and down, half feeling like jumping in the water, half feeling like turning tail and running.

Mally took a step towards him to be able to better stand on the bottom of the pool, putting one hand on his hip.

"Hi, Thackery!" Alice called out and waved, snagging both his and Mally’s attention, though the dormouse made a grand effort not to turn towards her. Thackery’s mouth twisted into a decent approximation of a smile, and he flicked his hand up briefly.

"You don’t look like you’re dressed for swimming," Mally said accusingly.

The sun prickled at his skin, and Thackery moved to stand beneath one of the large, red umbrellas that were dotted around the edge of the pool. As he moved, Alice swam towards the edge of the pool, but stopped when she reached Mally.

Alice rested her hand on the dormouse’s shoulder to keep steady. Mally, who’d been aware of her location the entire time he’d been talking to Thackery broke eye contact to look at Alice. The expression of elation and triumph was palpable, and it scorched Thackery’s heart where he stood.

They looked at each other, and then out to Thackery… both blonde and fair and blue-eyed and impossibly striking.

Book ends. A matched set of charm, kindness, bravery and beauty.

They wanted him to come in. Despite how his blood was on fire and how much he wished for cool relief, suddenly the water didn’t seem so inviting anymore. His skin prickled with warmth and he could very nearly feel his body being enveloped in the pool, but it suddenly seemed to be just another thing on an increasingly long list that he could no longer find solace in.

Mally took the hare’s rejection easily, and turned straight back to Alice. Thackery felt promptly forgotten, relieved, and frayed all at once.

He deliberately turned his back on the scene, looking at the deck chairs just behind it. There was a red and white bag with some personal items, and Thackery recognised Mally’s shirt and pants strewn across the footrest of another. He carefully moved Alice’s bag to the ground and crawled onto the reclining chair, resisting the urge to curl up on his side with his knees drawn to his chest.

***

The passage of time was slow and quick all at once. Sun baked the pavement around him, and the smell of splashed, chlorinated water evaporating from the concrete filled his nostrils. Thackery ended up moving from the chair to the deck to get a better look at the water.

Although it smelled strange and tasted worse, it was terribly inviting. The red shirt chafed at Thackery’s skin, sweat dripping down his spine to gather in the small of his back, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it off. A breeze that wasn’t quite so hot gusted by, and the perspiration cooled him a little.

Thackery shuffled closer to the edge of the water, briefly letting his toes beneath the surface. While it wasn’t as cold as he may’ve wished for, it made his eyes close immediately in gratification. He slowly lowered his legs in further, until his thighs rested against the deck and he was submerged in the cool water up to his knees.

With a careful glance around, Thackery removed the deerstalker and ran his fingers over his scalp, separating the sweaty strands. Breezes gusting past cooled and dried his hair and ears, and Thackery closed his eyes. For a few suspended moments in time, he could forget who he was and where he was.

The hare listened to the gentle lapping at the edges of the pool, the sounds of rushing water from the tree-slide off on the opposite deck, the laughter and muffled shrieks of excitement from children around, the large splashes as Mally and Tarrant got exceedingly more daring in their diving.

Those last sounds forced his eyes open a crack, and he watched as a lifeguard approached Mally to tell them both to cut it out. Tarrant looked suitably chastised, Mally just sorry he got caught.

Thackery couldn’t help a snort that hurt the insides of his nose at that.

The hare watched a decidedly more subdued Tarrant and Mally continue their horseplay. All seemed to be going well until the two friends took up a rather heated discussion as to who had done the last best dive into the pool (before the lifeguard had told them to calm down).

They couldn’t be more different, Thackery contemplated, eyes narrowing to focus on each man.

Tarrant, with his long, red hair and olive skin, cheerfully naïve, mostly scattered, but genuine through and through.

Mally with his short, blond crop and pale complexion, charismatic to a fault, brassy and shrewd in equal measure. A frustrating mix of arrogance and startling sensitivity, with an ego so large it was matched only by the size of his heart…

The hare squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head jerkily, and his mind getting off that distracting tangent and back onto the topic at hand.

Both were good men, but so different. Which one did Alice prefer?

His eyes slipped to Alice. She looked like a sea nymph, treading water in the middle of the pool, the ends of her hair floating on the surface. She didn’t seem to be looking at either of his friends, and Thackery sighed.

Normally he was so good at this. He had an innate understanding of relationships around him, and rarely felt as though he were on the wrong page.

Currently, he felt like he was on the wrong page of the wrong book. Thackery trusted his instincts innately; even when he’d been a lot madder, his gut feelings could override the chaos and still steer him in the right — if erratic — direction.

He’d never had his gut and his eyes disagree so much on what information they were picking up.

While Thackery stared at the pool without really seeing it, Alice looked over to him, her mouth splitting into a lovely smile. The blonde immediately began paddling towards him. Thackery’s toes wriggled anxiously beneath the water, but he fought the urge to back away, staying his ground.

"Hey, Thackery, how goes it?" she asked.

"Okay," Thackery said after a moment’s consideration. It was okay, he guessed. To be sitting by the pool watching his friends… very normal, not at all strange. There was a pause before the hare considered being a little chattier. “How are you?" he asked belatedly.

If Alice noticed his stumbling pause, she kindly didn’t pull him up on it. “Better for being in the water… it’s absolutely beautiful."

"Mmm," Thackery agreed wistfully, kicking his legs gently and giving a shallow nod.

It occurred that the once ever-present sounds of his friends’ showboating antics were decidedly absent. Thackery straightened his back and pulled the dark glasses away from his eyes for a moment. “Where are Mally and Tarrant?" he asked, eyes scanning the pool.

Alice gave a casual dismissing wave of her hand. “They went to the waterslide."

Thackery slumped in something close to relief. “Oh," he said, back sagging. With the two of them gone, the pressure of having to sit through the excruciatingly painful interplay between the three of them was absent. The tight coils of anxiety that had spent the majority of the last three days wrapped around his heart loosened slightly. The hare splayed his hands out behind his back to sit propped up.

He looked towards Alice to find her watching him carefully. When he caught her, she frowned.

"Thackery," she began gently, “your eyes are very red."

"Are they?" he said with a little sarcasm, though he was probably being far too subtle for Alice to pick up on it. “I hadn’t noticed."

"I don’t mean to offend," she said, and Thackery chewed on the inside of his bottom lip apprehensively. Apparently his sarcasm wasn’t that veiled. “It’s just that you look a little tireder than normal."

Thackery gave Alice a quick glance before dropping his eyes. The fact that Alice was at the epicentre of his woes — not that she knew it — and was still unfailingly upbeat and cheerful, annoyed Thackery more than he could say. But no matter what, she didn’t actually deserve his bad attitude. Nothing that had happened so far was directly her fault. Nothing that was going to happen would be her fault, either.

"Sorry," he apologised softly. The muscles worked underneath his jaw until his back teeth ached. “I am tired," he admitted.

Alice paddled that little bit closer, resting her elbows on the deck next to Thackery. “Not sleeping well?"

Thackery shrugged and gave a slight nod in a vague way that she was satisfied answered her question, and he was pleased as it gave her absolutely no additional information.

Alice nodded in commiseration and laid her cheek on her arm. “I know the feeling. My mattress is a lot firmer than what I’m used to, and sometimes I have trouble sleeping."

Thackery nodded, and they continued talking about inconsequential things. The hare was only half-listening, but he responded enough for Alice not to question his involvement in their conversation. Alice loved to talk, so it wasn’t hard to contribute without getting the chance to say much of anything.

Thackery was a thousand miles away and down a rabbit hole when a dark shadow sluiced underneath the surface of the water, heading straight for Alice. The hare sat up a little straighter and was about to say something, when the blonde singer gasped, kicking her legs out abruptly. Mally surfaced, laughing maniacally.

"I thought you were an eel," Alice said in a disgusted tone, splashing water in Mally’s face. The dormouse didn’t seem to mind, and grinned widely at her.

"Ah, Alice, if only you were wearing a white swimsuit."

The comment made Thackery sit up rigidly, and Mally winked at him. Out of the black and white clutter of his mind, a particular memory of he and Mally from a few months ago surfaced.

It was a pleasant memory, which made it ache all the more. They’d spent the night trying to break into the pool deck only to fail. What followed was a midnight room service call, and Creature From The Black Lagoon on the television. They’d talked and thrown popcorn at the tv set and laughed into the early hours of the morning. It had been a Good Night.

The fact that Mally called back the memory of it when he was in the midst of stripping back the skin of Thackery’s will — not that he knew he was doing it — made those tight coils of anxiety around the hare’s heart return tenfold, and an uncomfortable queasiness roil in his stomach. 

"…Why?" Alice asked in confusion, her voice giving Thackery a stinging slap of reality on his cheek.

Mally shook his head with a little pout and a long-suffering air. “I saw it in a movie once."

There was still the remnant of a cheeky twinkle in his eye, and it was directed towards Thackery.

A sharp, stabbing pain started behind Thackery’s eyes.

That was quite enough. The hare felt he’d well and truly stayed as long as he had to to keep up appearances. He withdrew his legs from the water quickly, pulling them close to his chest.

"I ah, think I’ll head off," he said, arms tightening around his knees and holding them to his chest. The statement was met with twin pale foreheads creasing in disapproval.

"But you’ve not even been in the water!" Alice said.

"Didn’t really feel like it," he lied quickly.

If possible, Mally looked more displeased than Alice. “That’s stupid. It’s too hot not to." The dormouse reached out, hand with its impossibly long fingers aimed directly for Thackery’s ankle. It wouldn’t be the first time Mally had tried to pull him into a watering hole unwillingly.

Another rather fond memory popped into his head, and Thackery felt nauseated. The thought of Mally’s hand touching him was too much; his skin could very well start to fissure under the pressure he was under, and his insides would go spilling out all over the deck.

Thackery flinched away, a little out of Mally’s reach, but the dormouse kept advancing. He only stopped when…

…when Alice put her hand on his arm.

His words, his actions weren’t enough to stop Mally, but a simple touch from Alice was enough to halt the dormouse in his tracks.

He had to go. Now.

Thackery stood hastily and took a couple of stumbling steps away from the edge of the pool. “I think I’d rather lie down in the air-conditioning", he lied again, taking a longing look at the water. Fumbling for his hat and flip-flops and pressing those sunglasses right up to his face, Thackery felt like a mask had fallen back into place, and somewhat shielded from the odd looks he received from his friends. “I’ll catch you guys later."

"I’ll go, too! My plastic protection is leaking," Tarrant announced, and Thackery looked up at him in a daze. He’d nearly forgotten the hatter was even there.

The hare’s teeth ground together until they hurt, making a horrible squeaking noise in the back of his jaw. He wanted to leave alone, but couldn’t very well tell Tarrant not to come with him. What would that look like? Strange, and not very Thackery-like at all. And it was all about being Thackery-like, not un-Thackery-like.

No one liked un-Thackery-like. Least of all Thackery.

He looked back to his two band mates left in the water, gazing up at him with veiled concern. “See you at sound check?" Mally asked the hare, a tiny furrow creasing the space between dark eyebrows.

"Of course!" Tarrant replied with a dramatic wave in Alice’s direction.

The nerves in Thackery’s arm sparked a muscle memory in the limb, and he waved it without really thinking about what he was doing. Mally and Alice waved back, and that was the hare’s cue to finally turn his back on the pair of blonds and walk away.

Tarrant threw an arm around his shoulder, and Thackery did his best not to throw it off his body. His skin was itching and hot, any touch aggravated it. Instead, Thackery bore the weight of Tarrant’s arm as they exited the pool deck, at least until they’d disappeared from the eyeline of the pool.

From there, Thackery’s legs started pumping faster automatically through the Grand Californian, pushing him further away, and Tarrant’s arm fell away from his shoulder. In fact, the hatter had to jog a few paces to keep up.

"Thackery!" Tarrant called out in surprise. “Wait for me!"

The hare slowed to a halt, but didn’t turn. His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides. Thackery felt the prickly sensation of Tarrant expectantly standing behind his left shoulder.

Thackery didn’t want to talk about his state of mind, but the hatter deserved some kind of explanation. “I’m tired, Tarrant," he said, imploring Tarrant to believe him. There could be no doubt in anyone’s mind that what he spoke was the truth.

Tarrant didn’t speak immediately, all Thackery could hear was the ambient noise of people moving all around, hear snippets of conversations floating in the breeze, smell chlorine and sunscreen and joy.

"I could make you some tea," Tarrant offered quietly, and Thackery didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, burst into tears, or remove each of his fingernails with a set of pliers one by one.

Thackery half-turned, looking into Tarrant’s concerned face from past the corner of his sunglasses. He needed to nip this in the bud now.  “Maybe later? I just want to rest now."

Tarrant nodded slowly, reaching out to touch Thackery’s shoulder. “Whenever you want, my friend. It’s always teatime somewhere."

The hare couldn’t help the weak-but-genuine smile that faintly curled his lips. “That it is."

Thackery continued his journey to the nearest elevator and jabbed the button. Doors opened immediately and the hare was grateful for the empty space.

The last thing he saw before the doors closed again was Tarrant standing in the middle of the floor, waving to him. Thackery’s head hit the side of the mirrored wall soon after in a dull, repetitive rhythm that lasted until he reached his floor.

***

Thackery sat in his room on the little sofa, fingers absently working at the strings of his beloved bass, trying not to think.

Or breathe.

Or do anything that might cause him distress.

Unfortunately, breathing was mandatory, and if he was doing that, thinking and distress just tended to follow as par for the course.

If he could just be objective…

Thackery’s hand hit the strings a little harder, hearing them complain.

  Yesterday had finished about as fantastically as it had started, which was to say, not at all. After leaving-

(abandoning)

-Tarrant on the pool floor, Thackery went straight to his room to lie facedown on his bed for the next three hours. There was yellow zinc still smeared across his pillow, and the mere sight of it still sent him into spasms of unhappiness.

He’d managed to get out of bed to walk-

(shamble)

-to rehearsal, where he’d done his very best to plaster a winning-

(phony)

-smile on his face and play like a good little hare. From there, he’d gone straight to the green room to get dressed and pace until it was time to perform.

And the sets…

The hare’s hands struck the strings a little harder, and the instrument complained.

Thackery had tried. Oh how he tried.

Each night tended to have a different demographic, a different atmosphere, different regulars. If truth be told, Saturdays were usually his favourite night to perform. It was smack in the middle of the human weekend and people seemed a little more relaxed, still having one day of freedom to enjoy before heading back to work. There was a sense of frivolity and careless abandon that he loved to tap into, to take ownership of.

The stage had become a kind of therapy for Thackery. While he’d started to gain a greater sense of control in his life, the crazy, mad feelings he’d lived with previously didn’t just vanish. They were still there, and needed somewhere to go.

The stage was ideal. Each of his friends assumed a different guise when they performed. Some, like Mally, made themselves bigger and brasher than life. Others, like Absolem, pretended to be someone completely different than he was, subsequently hiding his true nature. Different modes of operation, each with the same result; creating a character for the audience.

Thackery found that the crowd energised him to slightly loosen the tight coils that had taken up residence within his body and mind and held it together. He let bits of craziness leak out, funnelling it through his performances, knowing he was in a safe space to do so. He knew wouldn’t be thought poorly of, or be a danger to himself or anyone else.

It was turning a valve on a boiler, and letting some of the pressure go so it didn’t explode, and it felt grounding, felt good.

Thackery’s digits struck the strings harshly again, his fingertips hurting a little at the contact.

It had felt good, until Mally had turned their performances into one long and particularly excruciating love-letter to Alice. Suddenly, the uncomfortable feelings that had begun encroaching on his personal life were making headway in his only outlet, too. He tried to ignore Mally’s behaviour, but that proved fruitless when he knew it was still going on behind him. The stage was his sanctuary no more.

He had given himself a stern talking-to about being too closed on Friday night. If Thackery acted too oddly, Mally would start sniffing around, and that was the last-

(only)

-thing he wanted the dormouse to do. Of course, little cracks had started to appear, and he feared his friends were becoming suspicious. He’d done his best to bury those misgivings and act fine around Mally, even striking up a conversation or two on stage with him.

But the dormouse’s actions, coupled with Alice playing up to him, quickly destroyed that desire and he retreated once again.

"Coward," Thackery muttered to himself, pounding on his strings.

He had to be better than this. He had to suck it up and deal or…

Thackery shuddered. He didn’t want to think of an ‘or’.

He just wanted everything to be normal.

An awkward, off ‘twang’ sounded, and Thackery instinctively drew back from his hunched posture. Just as well, as one of his strings had snapped, curling back in his direction dangerously.

The hare exhaled a shaky breath. Breaking strings on a bass wasn’t an easily accomplished feat, but he’d managed to do it. Over the course of his ponderings, Thackery’s hands had been digging in and pulling at his strings harder, more viciously. He ran a digit over the fraying, sharp edge of the broken string in morbid fascination, feeling the fibres scrape over his finger calluses.

The sensation tugged his mindset away from upsetting matters, and he had something to focus on. Thackery rubbed his nose with the back of his wrist and laid the guitar gently across his lap. His hands moved over the body of the guitar, fingers skimming the words of the carved quote around the edge as he inspected the wear and tear of the strings.

"New strings," he mumbled to himself, “need new strings." He stood and walked to his bed, placing the bass on the mattress. Thackery crouched down and pulled his guitar case out from underneath the bed. In a small compartment under the lid were a new packet of strings, and a pair of blue-handled wire cutters.

Thackery sat on the mattress and hauled the bass into his lap. He took to loosening the tension in each string via the pegs with slow turns, one at a time. He did his best to school his heartbeat into a slower rhythm, get his breathing even and under control.

Restringing his guitar required more attention, and Thackery could push his concerns to the side easier because of it.

Didn’t have to think about Mally, about rehearsal or their upcoming Sunday night show… anything. He had all the time in the world.

Not that he knew it, because his bedside clock was gone.

Thackery glanced over at the nightstand to see the blank space where the clock had once rested. He gave a grim nod of satisfaction at its absence, and continued to loosen the strings.

Earlier in the day, when he was sure Mally had gone out, Thackery had used the spare key in his possession to sneak into the dormouse’s room and leave him the clock. Housekeeping as yet hadn’t gotten around to replacing his after its unfortunate ‘accident’ with the wall.

There was a method to Thackery’s madness, if one could pardon the pun.

When they’d been jamming in Thackery’s room, before everything had gone so very, horribly wrong… Mally had been chatting, and Thackery surmised that the clock had been thrown in the midst of his dream.

And then Mally had said it. It was seemingly the most harmless comment, but it had stuck in Thackery’s brain like gum on the sole of a shoe, and wouldn’t leave.

"Don’t you think you’ll have a little bit of difficulty making our gigs on time now?"

"Na. You’re always around to wake me. Who needs a clock?"

And that was it.

Mally always counted on Thackery to wake him for important things, to get him sorted. And Thackery took a sick sense of entitlement and pleasure out of being depended upon.

But if life had taught him anything, it was not everybody stays around forever, and you shouldn’t spend your life relying on other people. That included Mally. It especially included him.

Thackery finished cutting the strings with the snips and unwound them one at a time from the headstock. Mally couldn’t trust him to do all of those stupid little things all the time. It just wasn’t feasible.

Besides… he might have someone else reminding him of those things in the future. And Thackery wouldn’t be needed, so the hare should probably get used to not being relied upon. By giving Mally his clock, he was absolving himself of any and all responsibility to be Mally’s timekeeper.

Strings threaded through the bridge, Thackery cut each string to size to secure around the peg.

He was free. They were both free. And time could move on.

The hare snorted out a laugh as he wound the requisite string around the peg, tightening it for tension

Time was a funny thing like that. There was so little and so much of it.

The time between now and their arrival at the Resort was almost a blink of the eye, and yet so much had happened. The space between the start of their band and where they’d gotten to now seemed so long ago, and at once felt like yesterday.

Moments from his childhood seemed to flit by as quickly and ephemerally as butterfly wings, other moments dragged on, and he recalled not seeing an end in sight to some darker moments.

The bass was restrung, but not tuned. Somehow, Thackery had lost the impetus to play.

He stood, neck of the guitar clutched in his hands, and walked to the wall.

Day melted into night, night pushed back the day. Nothing changed ever, and then everything changed irrevocably, never to be the same again.

And time, time kept dragging on.

The phone rang, and Thackery started, knocking his bass. “Shit," Thackery said, grasping for the falling instrument.

He caught it before it fell, but by the headstock instead of the neck. The ragged ends of the strings scraped his hand, scratching along the palm. "Shit," he said, clenching it in pain.

With the guitar stable, Thackery stumbled over to the nightstand, clutching the edge of his shirt with his injured hand. It stung, and he couldn’t think straight save to want to stop that god awful ringing and—

Thackery picked up the handset and shoved it next to his face.

"Room service," he answered.

There was a pause at the other end of the line, and Thackery shook his head. Didn’t they know he had better things to do than to wait at the other end of the phone?

"Oh, sorry," the voice at the end replied, “must’ve dialled the wrong— wait. Thackery?"

"Good morning, sir," Thackery replied with a clipped, professional tone, “breakfast is served until eleven a.m. What would you like?"

"Losing track of time? It’s afternoon, buddy."

The words were like a sharp slap to his cheek. Thackery stopped breathing abruptly, before he realised he had to keep doing that to live.

Mally. Mally was on the phone. And what was he talking about?

Thackery pulled the receiver away from his mouth as he began to hyperventilate. He sat down on the mattress, breathing shallowly through his chest, trying to compose his thoughts.

Remarkably difficult when his mind was screeching GET IT TOGETHER at him. The words resounded in his ears, causing him pain.

He needed to respond. Thackery said the first thing that popped into his brain.

"Good afternoon…?" the hare put the receiver back to his mouth and replied, exceedingly cautiously.

Obviously it was the right thing, because Mally answered immediately, in a cheerful tone. “Good afternoon. Hey, are you ready for sound check and rehearsal? I’m about five minutes away from being dressed, thought you might want to head over with me."

Thackery blinked owlishly. It was time for rehearsal already? Where had the time gone? He automatically looked to the nightstand to find it empty save for a bedside lamp.  He exhaled in exasperation. Maybe re-gifting his clock to Mally hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Speaking of Mally…

Thackery didn’t really feel up to the company, but he was suddenly feeling light-headed and more than a little weak. Perhaps it would be smart to travel with someone — even if it was the dormouse.

Time trickled down his neck forming a pool down by his feet, and once again he wasn’t talking on the phone why wasn’t he talking—

"Yes," he blurted out. “I will do that. Come get me whenever."

It was Mally’s turn to pause on the other end of the line. “Everything okay?"

No, Thackery thought acrimoniously.

"Fine," he actually said, before deflecting back to Mally. “Why?"

"I don’t know," Mally said offhandedly, and Thackery wondered if he was just asking out of a sense of obligation. “Call me paranoid."

Obligation it was. Thackery shook his head, shoulders slumping. “You’re paranoid," he replied.

"Okay, I’ll be there in a jiffy. Prepare yourself," Mally said, and then promptly hung up.

Thackery pulled the phone away from his ear and spent a few moments staring blankly at the handset.

Prepare yourself.

The pervading question was how?

Thackery’s breathing began to quicken-

(too fast)

-although his intakes of oxygen were too shallow to really feel like it was doing anything for him-

(can’t breathe)

Thackery held his knees in a white-knuckled grip as his heart thundered in his chest and ears-

(too loud)

-temporarily deafening him.

Stop stop stop stopstopSTOPSTOPSTOP—

Thackery pushed the heels of his hands into his temples and applied pressure, and the confusing fog that surrounded his brain thinned a little.

The hare sighed and rested elbows on knees, hands dangling between his legs. It was becoming harder and harder to think straight, harder and harder to feel like his epidermis wasn’t cracking and all his insides weren’t leaking out everywhere.

Thackery clenched his fists involuntarily, and a stab of pain lanced through him. He remembered his hand. The hare looked down at his palm and moved the fingers experimentally. The scratches weren’t actually so bad, but his pain receptors seemed to be a little more sensitive than normal.

Standing, Thackery held his thighs for purchase, finding that his legs were a little shaky. He took a few moments to try and gain his equilibrium back, push uncertainty and chaos away.

He could push them away for a little while, but they waited in the shadows. Yellow eyes hungrily watched, waiting for carrion, for weakness.

Thackery shuffled into his bathroom and ran his hand under cold water. A few pale smears of blood washed away, but otherwise, his hand was fine. Thackery rubbed a thumb along the palm feeling ragged edges, and shuddered. That feeling sent sensations shooting straight into his brain, and it shook him out of his daze.

The hare padded his hand dry with a handtowel and looked at his appearance in the mirror, astutely avoiding looking his reflection in the face. He squinted at the rumpled shirt he wore, noticing an untidy red stain where he’d clutched the hem and bled on it. “Can’t," he said in a soft voice, shaking his head vehemently. Can’t see Mally with blood on his shirt. Mally would spot it and there would be questions. Can’t.

Thackery pulled the shirt off his head and threw it on the tiled floor. He exited the bathroom and went rummaging for a new shirt. It took a while to find a clean one, and Thackery was feeling indecisive, going through a number of options before he found a navy blue garment to wear.

Just as he was pulling the shirt over his head and chest, a knock at the door made him start.

Mally.

Thackery finished dressing hastily and went to the door. He peeked through the peephole and saw a distorted image of Mally waiting for him the only way the dormouse knew how to wait for anything; impatiently.

Looking down to the wall next to the door, he saw his bass. Thackery picked it up and while it wasn’t a great improvement on his mood, the familiar shape and texture of the instrument helped him feel a little better.

A loud rapping startled him again. Thackery exhaled deeply, hugged the guitar to his chest and placed one hand tentatively on the doorknob. A line from the book left teetering on the corner of his desk reverberated over and over in his head.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.

Sighing, Thackery did his best to keep his mind in check, and opened the door a crack and slipped through.

~tbc…

[fannishflightsoffancy]

Crossed Wires #2/#3 feedback pt 3

more feedback, yes. <3 Thank you guys. Sarah once said she noticed I tend to catch up on my feedback just before I post a new chapter... well played, sarah, well played. 

imakethingsigrowthings said: 

i.. was about to sleep… BUT NO. BECCAH HAS TO PUT SHINY NEW FIC OUT

Dear, sweet Mary... I hope it FUCKED UP YOUR SLEEPING PATTERN.

Sorry, but I'm just mean like that. <3

***

were-all-mad-where reblogged this from fannishflightsoffancy and added:

*SCREAMING*

Thack. Thack. 

I can see that mental deterioration taking enough of an effect for him to not be able to hide it. I also LOVE that you put the ‘if this were Tarrant and Alice, it wouldn’t hurt so much’ part. I remember discussing that! It’s particularly interesting to watch him at least sort of work out those thoughts! Jordan was adorable!!!!! That whole moment was just cute!

Yes, that was the bit you helped me nut out, thank you! His anxiety and feelings only get harder and harder to conceal from everyone else at this point, but he begins to combat that by pulling away from his friends. bad move, thack. 

Glad you liked Jordan! She was a fun addition, and an admirable distraction for Thackery :) thank you for your replies and reblog! 

***

left4ever said: Hooray! You sprung publishing this ch on me unawares… You know how I like surprises, even ones I’ve read before!

ha HA! Occasionally I am a sneaky little bunny. :) Thank you for your help once again <3 

***

luxidy reblogged this from fannishflightsoffancy and added:

I went through your fic list so that I could refamiliarize myself with CW 5 and 6, and OH MY GOODNESS MY CW GIF’S THERE. I MADE THAT GIF. YOU LIKED IT AND YOU PUT IT ON YOUR PAGE AND I MADE THAT THING AND SCREEEAMING.

Of course it is! It's perfect! And thank you so much for making it for me. you're the best. 

Anyway, for the record, I was going to read this as soon as I woke up. But I overslept and had to rush to help a friend get ready to move. Just so you know. (Excuses, excuses, I know. Sorry xC)

No liveblog this go around, but holy frahjkhgkahdflkghakljsfhgkdo I have things to say to you. SO MUCH ADORABLE I CAN’T EVEN.

Okay. Feedback time.

Firstly, I have to hand it to you and Elise. Thackery’s POV so far has been very different from Mally’s. Not so much that it’s unrealistic and off putting, but just right. You’ve told me that you struggle writing Thackery’s side of things, but that struggle is missing from the writing itself.

That is a great relief to me. What I'm ending up doing a lot is just blocking in the action and not worrying TOO much if I don't hit Thackery's POV on the head the first time around. Because when I finish the chapter I send it to Elise and she points out areas where maybe Thackery's perspective is a little lacking. Plus, giving today as an example, she asked me why I wrote 2 certain things. When I couldn't actually tell her, she got me talking until I realised WHY i'd written it just like that, and helped me nut out deeper reasons for Thackery's behaviour. She is totes awesome. 

I can see where he’s coming from throughout the entire chapter, and even though he and I don’t share the exact same personality type I see so much of my own thought process in his. Especially during this part:

“‘Not everybody needs vibrato,’ Thackery said. ‘You don’t need it. Your pitch is great.’ Again, he cursed himself for sounding so tedious, reducing the captivating nature of Mally’s voice to simple mechanics.”

Ah, the great divide between the complicated things I wish I could say, and the simplified things I actually manage to get out. My empathy towards this hare went through the roof.

Then there’s this part:

“And while Thackery didn’t really want Mally to figure out he was upset — and most importantly, why — the fact that the dormouse seemed entirely oblivious to his inner turmoil on some level still offended him.”

THIS IS ME. CONSTANTLY. RAH.

There were a few other parts that had me going YES BECS THAT’S PERFECT, but I think you get my point!

I'm so glad you are relating to certain aspects! Awesome! This pleases me *strokes white cat*

Naturally I was a bundle of feels all throughout Thack’s jam session with Mally, and his panicked organizing of his thoughts afterwards. And his interaction with Jordon was the absolute cutest thing in the world. I can’t even with that friendship, man. Especially with him patiently playing the ukulele for her and her being a tiny ball of princessy dignity, omg precious.

Bahaha, yes. He just learns to go with it. It's a bit of a strange situation for him, but he might as well just play along. It turns out nicely for him in the long run. 

What had me screaming and flailing for Notepad to jot down my thoughts was how Thackery reacted to Andrew, though. Bare with me for a second; maybe I’m reading way too far into things, but I get the feeling you’ve set up a look into Thackery’s past here.

indeeeeeeeeeeeed. go on...

For one thing, Andrew’s laugh reminds Thackery of someone. This could just be a reference to Alice, Mals, or Tare that I’m missing, but then again, it might not. Then Thackery goes and stumbles when he corrects his name for Andrew. (“‘Mr Earwicket’ is—” he swallowed, his throat dry, “— my father.”). The way it’s written makes it sound like he doesn’t want to be associated with his father, and that he wants to be distinguished from him out of distaste (or, equally likely, respect). Again, this could just be him not wanting to be referred to by such a formal title. But, then, it mightnot.

That reaction is definitely significant. You've proposed two particular idea as to what it might mean, but I'm not going to tell you if either of them are right. You'll just have to keep reading, but I seriously welcome your continued speculation! Good thoughts, though. 

And thenhe starts scraping at his butterfly tattoo. If I’m remembering correctly, that’s the one that you didn’t explain the significance of towards the end of CW. The most obvious symbolic meaning for butterflies would be one of freedom or change. It could also represent someone that valued those kinds of things, or who resembled a butterfly in some other symbolic way. I could be readingwaytoo far into this, but all of that seems to point to Thackery remembering someone important because of Andrew, perhaps a father figure of some sort. That person would then be tied to his tattoo somehow, in some sort of way that produced strong feelings in him. Or something. I seem to have lost my train of thought.

I suddenly see all the flaws in my reasoning, though, so ehhh. Feel free to ignore all that if I’m totally off base.

There's definitely significance there, you are NOT reading too much into it, but... I'm not going to tell you which parts are right and which aren't. There's a mixture of both in there, and I will definitely say you have touched on certain things. You'll just have to wait and see...

All in all, I greatly enjoyed this chapter. It connected well with CW 5 and 6 without feeling like a tedious revisitation of the events we’ve already seen, and the new characters you introduced were a treat. My emotions were going all over the place, but they always do when I’m reading your Thackery. A+, 10/10, would recommend, most definitely c:

That's my fear, that it'll be boring to look at this stuff again, so to have you say that, I'm very pleased. Yay :D EMOTIONS GOING ALL OVER THE PLACE, WOOT. 

Anyway, this doesn’t feel as thorough as my feedback usually is (I touched on, what, two things?). To flesh this out a bit, I’ll leave you with my reactions to some choice lines:

-“Perfect words for a perfect instrument owned by an imperfect creature.”-jakgj;alkklahfl;k

He has issues, honey. 

-“‘I—’ Thackery stopped, unsure of what to say. He wanted to hang out with Mally more than anything, but he needed to be alone.

Or was it the other way around?”-SF;HLSDFLASFOHDUJNB 

-“The thought made Thackery’s blood sluggish and icy again. With eyes squeezed shut, he could clearly picture Mally and Alice avoiding him. Involuntarily, his hands began to tremble, and the hare gripped his legs savagely to stop them shaking.”-baby no stooooop

-“You’re a bunny?”

“Well actually, there’s a few differences between— yes, I’m a bunny,” he changed his mind and finished gravely.-PWAHAHA.

-I’m so in love with Jordon though do you even understand.Honestly, I always get a little worried when reading little girl or little boy characters, because so often they don’t sound like little kids to me. Jordon, however, is the absolute cutest thing.

I'M SO GLAD SHE SOUNDS LIKE A LITTLE KID. RElief. 

-Andrew is also the cutest thing. I sure hope they make good on their plans to check out the Mad T Party. I’d love to see a little more of them.

Well well well.... maybe they will. 

-“I think you just made a friend for life,” she said as she walked back to her counter.

“Yeah…Need all of those I can get right now,” he said to no one in particular.-*INTERNAL SOBBING*

Brava, Ms. Becs!

So much sobbing....

Thank you for your incredibly indepth feedback once again. You so totally rock, squirt. <3 love ya!

***

anexquisitemadness reblogged this from fannishflightsoffancy and added:

Because if you haven’t been reading the majesty of Beccah’s fics… I pity you.

And she works herself to the bone to achieve a sense of perfection that honestly you will not read anywhere else in the way of dialogue. And I have the honour of assisting her in this endeavour. So, read, love, leave feedback.

Icommandyou…

dude, you don't even know how invaluable I find your insight. I tried to tell you but you DIDN'T BELIEVE ME. silly doody head. ANyway, I think you're awesome and you're my fave aussie not living in australia. Also, megamind. Why are you awesome? Why?

Thank you, elise <3 

***

marajadejk reblogged this from fannishflightsoffancy and added:

I love this one! I actually sat at work with a stupid smile on my face reading this last bit with Jordan because I couldn’t leave ‘till I was done. (Of course, something tells me the next few days of the timeline will be the last bit of happiness we see for a while…..)

Oh my god, another huuuge response. I often get these at work and I can't tell you how I devour them. Oh wait, I can. I sit there with a huge stupid grin on my face as I read, and as soon as I finish, I read it again :D So thank you, you crazy wonderful person. 

You can really see Thack wearing around the edges here. In the beginning, Thack is very methodic while picking up in Mally’s room, with the intention of finding a place to sit. He knows how Mally can be, and besides, it fills the time nicely. This is interesting to note that when he spends time alone in the morning or cleans his own room, he’s unable to focus, and can’t seem to complete the task at hand. There is too much on his mind, as opposed to trying to keep something off his mind. Because, you know, shower….

Thack is initially very cautious in his interactions with Mally until he realizes he’s being so restrained, and forces himself to relax. Mally’s pure Mallyness helps a lot.The fedora shattered the calm he tried to create with his tidying, and unfortunately, brings that stress back about. As Thackery mentions, they’ve both had their share of relationships and other companionship with no issues, and I really like the point made of how he doesn’t mope about Mally. Whatisstriking about this development is the closeness of both Alice and Thackery (to themselves and to the band as a whole,) and the absence of home and familiarity as a way to cope with these occurrences.

After what would've been a certain period of awkwardness that Thackery experienced after he initially realised he felt something for Mally, the hare prided himself on knowing his priorities (friendship < relationship) and sticking to them. And that includes not moping about the situation, about Mally. What good will it do? But as we've talked about before, things that help him with this situation are absent in the human world, and his strength is wearing thin. 

Attempting to start a relationship with a close friend and band mate is something Thackery explicitly chosenotto do. It’s too complicated and the potential for disaster far outweighs the possible benefits it might bring about. Thack was able to read the signs and deem any reciprocation of romantic feelings from Mally unlikely. He needs that in order to feel secure in a relationship of any kind, and that need was fulfilled in his friendship with the dormouse. To taint that rapport for the sake of what he originally thought to be a crush was not a risk he was willing to take. It’s very black-and-white of him, but it keeps him safe and sane. Mally, on the other hand, is eager to take that risk. He likes the black-and-white school of thought, but this is very shades of grey and loose ends and everything that Mally is not fond of. It’s unlike him. He’s having a hard time reading Alice, and the “instant devastation factor” is not useful in this equation at all. Consequently it’s going to take more work, and is going to have a higher risk factor if it fails. Mally has his blinders on. He hasn’t stopped to think about what will happen if Alice says no, and is missing some warning signs of his friend falling back down the rabbit hole because his eyes are on the prize. I think that speaks volumes about Mally’s attraction to the singer. It really is genuine, but true to Mally form, all encompassing.

Once again, you nailed it. Thack and Mally are diametrically opposed in the way they're attacking this attraction. If you remember, Mally did consider his options briefly at the very beginning of CW, but he very quickly decided that he'd rather find out than play it safe, thereby setting him on a particular course of action. And he does genuinely like Alice, you're right, it's just that he's not great at multitasking ;)

The jam session is a nice break. The coalescence of the bass and vocals is a nice way to describe the friendship of the hare and the dormouse. “Mally’s voice and Thackery’s bass just… fit.” They don’t even need words, just being together, sharing smiles and music and space is enough to make them happy. They understand each other in a way that is special and unique to them. They are best friends. It’s funny that they haven’t vocalized this yet, and won’t do so until the band intervenes later, but maybe that’s part of what makes their bond so close. They’ve never needed to give Best Friend titles to each other, they just are, and what’s more, they understand that. (When they do put a title to it, the bond solidifies, but for now, it’s wonderful, and it works.)

You've got it again. It's just a thing that Is, it needs no explanation, and that's why it's never been examined any further. 

Thackery’s sanity seems to be the same way as the guitarists’ friendship. There really aren’t words to describe what keeps him lucid, but he knows them by feel.

Damn. yes. you're awesome. 

His bass, the woods of Tugley, his friends, and his home and garden seem to have lots of pull over him. Here he only has the bass and the friends. It’s been enough for now. The music seems to do the same thing to him. Thackery is able to let go of his qualms and just live in the moment. It makes him share that thoughtful compliment with Mally about his singing voice and the emotion in it without filtering it. Unfortunately, it also sets him up for the fall later on, but that moment between them is pure and beautiful. I know Thack is a bit self-conscious with his lack of eloquence in the phrasing, but Mally doesn’t need to hear all that. The sentiment is there; he could have said it with a smile or a pat on the back, and Mally would still understand.

Mally knows how much playing music like that means to thack. He just understands that he's picked up niggly emotions and that's something that seems to help. it doesn't, but he doesn't know that.

It makes the fact that Mally is missing some warning signs in his friend even more poignant. He doesn’t get that Thack is distressed during his victory dance, and mistakenly labels the reason as “noise.”His dream clues in Crossed Wires are there, but the dormouse is glancing over them, too. Here Thack makes a conscious decision to not help Mally anymore. I know he’ll continue to do this by trying to distance himself later, to terrible effects. He thinks it’s helping, but here is the key decision making moment.

This is a big decision that he makes, to quit helping. In many ways, he feels like he's betraying Mally, but he has the tiniest ounce of self-preservation in him, and he's using it to do this. 

From this point out, the lucidity begins to slip as long as the conversation has been about Alice and Mally at some point. Thackery is distracted by Mally’s outburst and the repercussions, so the mood changes. Mally leaves in search of food (at least he offers to bring Thack something back). There are two key moments here : “He wanted to hang out with Mally more than anything, but he needed to be alone. Or was it the other way around?” And then a little later: “In his desperate desire to reclaim order, Thackery tried to drown out the rapid and deafening beating of his own heart with logic and fact. It wasn’t by any means a strong suit of his, but he had to try. For the sake of his sanity, it felt like.” Thack knows he’s slipping.

He definitely knows. But instead of laying his foibles out in the open and asking for help, he covers them. Thack thinks that if he withdraws and gets himself together, no-one need ever know he went through what he went through. 

Big mistake. 

Immediately after Mally leaves, he has a completely physical reaction to the new developments. Thackery crumples to the floor, he sweats, he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders, and can’t beat it back, so he physically peels off his shirt. He still knows that he has to get out and do something to stop himself from dwelling or obsessing. The upcoming interaction with Tarrant over dinner prep and the others as they eat will do a little bit of good, but I’m sure some bad, too. He’s got to watch Mally and Alice, he’s got to keep up appearances, and I’m sure he’s looking for information the whole time.He knows the idea of Mally and Alice is undesirable while the idea of Tarrant and Alice is fine, but he doesn’t knowwhyhe thinks that. He’s also afraid everyone will stop talking to him if they find out what he’s thinking. Illogical, but par for the course of a former mad man.

Gah, perfection again. The thing of it is, he's not even letting himself admit that 'tarrant and alice' work better for him than 'mally and alice' because he likes mally. He wants to be altruistic in his motives and is so frustrated as to the whys and wherefors when he's not. He's just plain human. er, hare. ;)

Thack tries to regain composure, and it is slightly successful. He’s able to calm himself by focusing on medial tasks, such as breathing and walking and thinking logically. Thack’s coping mechanisms are working, but not completely, and not very well. They require a lot of effort and energy, things the Hare can’t continue to devote those levels of keeping up appearances. He hasn’t shut himself away quite yet, but I know we’re seeing him on a little more of an upswing before he makes the final decent. He’s still trying. Before he breaks, though, he appears to Mally as tired, quiet and withdrawn. Of course he does, it’s exhausting.

I think thack has a good start on some coping mechanisms, but his attention is so frayed right now that he doesn't have the patience to follow them through, give them the attention they really require. They're band aid fixes. They're plugging a dyke with your finger. It won't hold forever. 

The interaction with Jordan is endearing. I love it. You wrote her perfectly, from Little Girl Lost to Little Princess in one arc. Kids have this innate ability to see if you are good and trustworthy, and they will pour their heart out to you if they click with you. Obviously, Thack is worthy. He’s a bunny (she loves bunnies), he saves her, he plays music for her and reunites her with her daddy. She refuses to let go of his hand, even squeezing it for assurance when she has to. She doesn’t want Thack to leave, and he acquiesces because it keeps her calm and happy. They have a connection, and he can’t bring himself to break that. For someone who doesn’t have much experience with children, Thackery handles this situation perfectly. Perhaps it’s because he’s so good at reading people, and in many ways, children are just small people, that he knows what Jordan needs. He can say things to keep her calm, he is a very good listener, and his is content to play along with her wishes. Jordan loves him, and for all the right reasons. We get to see a little bit of her softer side as she hugs him goodbye and whispers thank you. She doesn’t have to keep up the brave face anymore, and she isn’t overwhelmed by being lost, so we can see her as a little girl at the very end.

Being someone who works with littlies, I'm so very glad you enjoyed their interactions and that they rang true to you. Despite Thack's inexperience with children, i think his innate goodness and kindness (at least while he still has access to that) are readily able to be observed by Jordan. And as you say, kids just KNOW. He's surprised at the quick bond she forms, but for someone in desperate need of a friend, it's ultimately very welcome.

Jordan’s dad, Andrew, on the other hand, is all business. His entrance is very commanding. He is a big man, and his concern for his daughter is obvious.Thackcan sense that right away, and all the silliness of ukulele playing and being a bunny die away as he waits to see how this man will react to him being in close contact with his daughter. The time for play is over, it’s time to act like a grown up.Thackmakes the transition relatively smoothly, with a few ticks to show he’s not 100% focused on the here and now as he might have been before the story started. (I’m wondering if the dad’s build and/or his business like personality remindThackof a certain someone from back home….)

We shall see, won't we? We shall see! Thackery was very nervous about what this large man would think about a grown man spending time with his little girl. Thankfully the CM briefed Andrew on who Thackery was and how he'd helped in that time. I think that thack occasionally comes across people that are a bit judgy due to his tattoos, and that's why he's often subtly choosing things that cover them a little.

Andrew looks past that, and thanks Thackery profusely for helping his daughter. Jordan feels closeness to her bunny, too. As we see Jordan and Andrew interact, you can see how much he loves and cares for his little girl. Thack immediately wants to call him “sir” (maybe another long buried habit from his upbringing?) and even though he’s insisted on going by Andrew, he still has the respect to address Thackery formally at first, as Mr. Earwickett. Thack asks to be called Thackery, insisting “Mr. Earwickett was my father.” While that can be a common, slightly funny, remark to a casual listener, the poignancy of it here rings true if you know where to look. Thack scratches his arm, a very specific tattoo on his arm, as he makes this affirmation and listens to Andrew talk about his love for the little girl. Hmmm…. But back to happier times, and Jordan gives her thanks and a blue star sticker as she says her goodbyes. This sticks with Thack, who likes concrete mementos of important moments. (That sleeve, for one. Mally’s drawing in CW, for another.) This little one found him important enough to bestow a prized possession on him. I think he’ll keep it. I’m glad they have loose plans to come back and see Thackery play later in his element. It will be another good distraction for our mad March Hare, and a moment of happiness that may help him in his dark times.

It does become an important reminder to him. Also, not that it was planned, but I think it's influenced something way WAY down the track quite unexpectedly. So, uh, booyah :D

Like I said, I love this chapter. There’s a great balance of happy, angst and insanity to keep the reader’s attention. I can’t wait to see Jordan come back, but I know that future developments will fray the Hare’s edges even more. We’re coming up on some practice time and eventually the serenade.Thack will become more and more withdrawn, but it will be interesting to see the decent and eventually the healing process from this point of view. You’re setting it up beautifully. I can’t wait to read it!! Thanks so much for trusting me enough to bounce ideas off of. It’s wonderful to see how these little moments flesh out in the context of the whole story. The wait is always worth it to create such a cohesive, detailed story.

It's only going to get worse before it gets better... Thank you for being available and willing to be a sounding board. I have some truly awesome people helping me out on this project, and each person's voice adds a different flavour, makes things better. You, elise and dor have been just wonderful, and I thank you all so sincerely for giving of your time to assist me. <3

And thank you, sarah, for the wonderful feedback once again! <3 <3

[fannishflightsoffancy]

Crossed Wires: B Sides #2/#3 feedback part 1

catching up on stuff I should've done weeks ago. good lord.

left4ever reblogged this from fannishflightsoffancy and added:

I think you know all my thoughts and feelings, but I also want to tell you how much I love this line: “One tree is a poem, one hundred is a narrative.”

Thank YOU, dor. I love that you picked out that line because it's one of my favourites :) Your help is always, always appreciated <3

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imakethingsigrowthings said: FUCK WAITING FOR LUNCH SNEAKING IT IN BETWEEN MARKUPS and i see that Ever After reference ;) he is quite Leonardo like from that movie…

I hope I destroyed you, beautiful Mary. I hope I destroyed you good :D <3

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briannacherrygarcia said: The hardest part of all this is having to witness Thack’s descent into madness again. Why must you hurt us so? Heck, why do I keep reading?! I guess it’s a good kinda hurt? Like Ron said “You’re gonna suffer, but you’re gonna be happy about it.”

It's actually hard to write it, too! But having said that, I love writing it, because I think it's character-building for my favourite characters. It certainly helped Mally. Ultimately it'll help Thack. You're just going to have to trust me on this one. Also, please tell me if it doesn't hurt, because if it doesn't, I haven't done my job. :) Thanks for reading! <3

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littlecheshirecat said: i think brianna nailed it on the head, it hurts to see thack suffer again but its really insightful how youve done it.

I'm glad you think so! I think it was around the 4th or 5th chapter of CW that I decided I was going to do this, so after that, I left deliberate spots to go back in and fill later. Like potholes. Sort of. Lol. Thank you for continuing to read. <3

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were-all-mad-where reblogged this from fannishflightsoffancy and added:

I’m doing an awful lot of flailing and crying while reading this. I love the way you write Thackery so much it hurts. MY BBY! I’ve yelled that enough at you over skype, you should know by now that this is how I react. I can see his fragile grip on his feelings starting to slip. Those small things that typically wouldn’t bother him are now amplified by Mally’s most recent revelation. The moment with the fireworks was perfect. *insert LOTS and lots of flailing* I had to stop reading and go cool off before I would continue. I was really that excited. alkjshg;kjafg <3

You've definitely done your fair share of yelling at me over skype! But on the off occasion when I've gotten stuck and I've needed to bounce a quick idea with nobody else around, you've been around to do that, and I thank you very much! You're right; things that wouldn't have made a dent in Thackery's psyche a few days ago are suddenly having a large impact. Glad you liked the fireworks section! I specifically picked those Crowded House lyrics in part because the 'stars burning and exploding' reminded me of them. 

Once again, I thank you for your feedback and hope you continue on this rocky ride we're on! <3

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mishy-belle said: I don’t wants the Thacky to hurt and fall back into madness but I must keep reading. WHY DO I DO THIS TO MUHSELF *sobs because good writing*

WHY DO ANY OF US DO ANYTHING? BECAUSE IT'S GOOOOOOOOOD. :D 

But aside from that, thank you for reading :) <3

***

Part one done!

[fannishflightsoffancy]

woo! full steam ahead!

Sort of! Was wiped out for half the day with chronic neck pain and dehydration. Fun times. Which means I didn't get to complete the revisions for ch 3 of b sides. BUT... i have done about 2/3 of them, and i'm much  happier with how it's reading so far. And the last third doesn't need as much work. Many thanks to Elise for the prompts in places to emotionally expand that first bit, your thoughts have come in very handy. Here's hoping in the next couple of days I can get it done, and sent to dor and elise for a little lookie. 

Am happy with how it's shaping up. I swear, it's always worth it to me to wait for a while before I revisit it. Awesome. 

Anyhoo. Got to talk to mary for a while tonight, and got a new phone today. Samsung galaxy 4, yes pls. It is quite the kickass piece of electronics. 

Now bed. And work. wheee. 

[fannishflightsoffancy]

left4ever replied to your post: left4ever replied to your post: it’s finally...

So finish already so we can get back to B Sides!

YES MA'AM.

[fannishflightsoffancy]

wereallmadwhere replied to your photo: I DO WHAT I WANT!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!! (forgot to type it on that last one)

Thanks chelsea! :D You rock. 

left4ever reblogged this from you and added:

Happiest of birthdays, Bec!

Thank you dor <3 <3 <3 

briannacherrygarcia said: NO NO NONE OF THAT. You get back here and celebrate your UNbirthday young whippersnapper! ;p

Heheh! I'M SO CONFUSED. IS IT MY BIRTHDAY OR UNBIRTHDAY? BECAUSE TOMORROW IT WILL BE MY UNBIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY! Thank you :D

marajadejk said: It’s still your unbirthday here, so happy Unbirthday to you. :)

:D I think i'm in the right fandom. Thank you, Sarah!!

luxidy said: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BECS. *streamers and confetti and parades and sweets and love and art supplies and more love and rocking music*

You are awesome, miss L. All of these things rock. <3 <3 thank you. 

[fannishflightsoffancy]

so let's just assume...

that i've missed anything and everything of importance that anyone I follow might've posted in the last 5 days or so, because i haven't had the chance to go through my dash at ALL. 

So, uh, you guys'll tell me if anything important happened? Right? Right? 

Had a shittastic day for many and varied reasons, save for one moment with 2 little japanese ladies that was just... magical. But now, that's over, I've drawn, I've messed around, I'm writing, and I have a day off tomorrow. 

yippee ki-yay, motherfuckers. 

(i should mention that there were some people that cheered me up today; namely nora, doreen, rach, sarah, elise and mary. You guys are cool. never forget that, nobody can take that away from you.)