#I guess her name is soapy

[soapy-birblover]

finally finished my wynncraft oc/persona reference sheet!!

close ups under the cut

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove (part six)

Leon Kennedy x female reader - the slowest, slow burn I swear Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five.

After the two of you had finished dinner, you’d began clicking through the channels in search of something to watch. It was far too early to go to bed, or even pretend to go to it - you’d just be staring at the ceiling, alone with your thoughts. Leon had insisted on taking the dishes to the kitchen despite your offer to help, said he’d leave them in the sink to soak. You know that’s a task you’re not going to be able to handle until your arm is free of the sling, fingers unsplintered. You want to say you’ll do all the cooking and cleaning when you can, but that implies that you think you’ll still be in the safe house, with him, in however long it’ll take to be free of the sling...

By all intents and purposes, Leon had planned to wait until you’d gone to bed to pull together his report, but the fact that Hunnigan hadn’t replied to his text yet was giving him an unsettled feeling in his gut. Maybe she was doing it on purpose, tit for tat - no information for him until he gave information to her.

After setting the dishes and pan in soapy water to return to later, he’d come back to the sofa and picked the laptop up off the coffee table, almost reluctantly.

“Er, I’m gonna start my report now, if that’s all right?”

You look at him, noting the laptop now tucked under his arm. The report, of course – he hadn’t typed it up yet, couldn’t have, not when you’d sobbed and then napped all over him.

It’s like emotional whiplash - the soft, almost domestic moments where you could pretend this whole situation was normal - it’s dinner and a movie with a friend, first date vibes but both of you too cautious to make a move.

And then there’s the startling reminder that, no, actually, you’re not even home, in a one-bedroom bungalow, no idea where you are in the state, or what state, with a man, a bodyguard you hardly know, after very nearly being murdered the day before and could possibly be murdered in the days to come.

You must’ve stared too long in response as he raises his arm to rub the back of his head – you wonder if it’s a nervous habit.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Dove. The report’s just a formality after the interview earlier, and it’s better that I submit today. It’s fine if you’d prefer not to be in the room, though. If you’re not comfortable, I can wait until you’ve gone to bed.”

“Oh… No, go ahead.”

“Are you sure? I’ll be listening over the audio again but I’ll use headphones, so…”

“Yeah. It’s fine – needs to be done, as you said.” You smile, turning your head back to the TV to end the conversation.

Leon had sat on the other couch, laptop resting on his knees, plugged in a pair of in-ear headphones. For over an hour, you’d heard him tap away at the keys, brows furrowed in concentration when you’d chance a look his way. The last few times his eyes haven’t been on the laptop screen but that of the TV, watching the dumb romance movie you’d settled on during your channel searching, hoping it would prove a good distraction.

“Leon…” You feel rude for interrupting his work, but he’d tugged out an earbud, hasn’t typed anything in a good while now, definitely not since the last ad break.

Not that you were keeping track.

“Mm?” He hums in response.

“Can I…?” He looks over as you clear your throat - start over. “Can I ask you something? If you’ve got a minute.”

There it is - the encouraging smile. “Of course, Dove.”

“It’s going to sound stupid, but those things – were they BOWs?”

“The Lickers?” The smile drops as he tugs out the other earbud. “Yeah, they are.”

“Lickers?” It sounds too cutesy for what they are, like a lollipop brand for kids and not indescribable monstrosities.

“There’s probably some scientific name that Umbrella would use, but that term came from a cop that first saw them in the Raccoon City Police Department. I guess we kinda kept the name as a weird tribute.”

“Right.” Maybe it was the cop’s way of trying to make them less terrifying on first sight.

“Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t think BOWs were actually…” You swallow, though you know it’s not going to dislodge the lump in your throat now. “..things, if that makes sense. Like, I knew we were trying to protect the public from biological warfare threats, but I thought it was man-made diseases, or poisoning the water supply… That sort of stuff.”

“You’re not wrong. Those things were once human, mutated by a man-made virus. I’ve had a fair amount of experience with different iterations of the virus over the years, unfortunately.”

“Mutated…?” You feel sick as the image once again flashes in your mind’s eye, the grotesque features of the Lickers juxtaposed with those of humans, your colleagues… “Fuck.”

“Yeah - fuck.”

“God,” you exhale, but it doesn’t feel enough. “I’ve been so naïve to what I’ve even been doing all these years - I didn’t know what we were actually trying to prevent.”

“You sound like you think you’ve been doing something wrong.”

“Well, maybe I have.” You protest. “What if I missed something that led to that the other day?”

“You did not miss anything.” He says firmly, closing the laptop – you’re not sure if he’s concluded his report or not. “Is that what happened to everyone - they were infected and then they mutated into those… those things?” You can’t bring yourself to say the identifier out loud.

“No, Dove, the… The bodies they recovered matched with the amount of people signed into the premises. Excluding you, obviously.”

“So, someone brought them there and set them on us?”

“Maybe. They’re still working on how they got in the building. They don’t exactly use doors, so…” He laughs, though it’s half-hearted.

The lump feels too big in your throat, tears burn at your eyes as you drop your head down but you know you’re not quick enough.   

Leon stands, soft footsteps on the carpet as he circles round the coffee table and sits down a cushion’s width away from you.

“Sorry – it was a bad joke.”

You shake your head, sniffling a little, eyes fixed on your thighs. “No, it’s not that, or you. It’s so stupid, but I wish I could go back and stop it…”

“I know.” He places a hand down on the sofa, swivels his knees in your direction. “But it doesn’t help to think like that – trust me. And I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to keep going.”

“And you’ve faced those things before.”

“More times than I’d like to count.”

“How do you stop them?” You look up then, wiping away the tears from your cheek with the heel of your left hand.

“You couldn’t have done anything differently back there, if that’s what you’re thinking. A couple of gunshots to the head or an explosion is the only thing that’ll stop them.”

“You can’t… you know, turn them back?”

He shakes his head, looking solemn. “Afraid not.”

“Maybe for the best. I don’t think I’d want to be turned back if I’d…” If you’d ripped off your colleague’s head.

“Hey, that is not going to happen to you.” He leans forward, places his hand on your knee - having you fall asleep in his arms earlier has removed all sort of boundaries, it seems. “I promise.”

You shake your head then. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can. I am going to keep you safe.” He pauses – wind it in a little, Kennedy. “And if it makes you feel better, you won’t be the first. Want my credentials? I rescued the President’s daughter from a cult, got her home safe.”

“The President’s daughter?” You hadn’t heard about that, but then again why would you? Probably wouldn’t want it announced to the world that the leader of the free world’s daughter had been abducted.

“Mm. She had a codename and all – Baby Eagle.”

“But you would know her name.”

“Yeah, but still used codenames on official comms.”

“So, what would happen if I told you my name?”

“Er, well, I’d…” There’s the arm raise, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I’d have to report in to HQ that your identity had been compromised, I’d be redeployed elsewhere and you’d get a new security detail.”

“Why?”

“Part of your protection is that I’m not a risk of revealing your identity if hostile forces used… certain methods of interrogation if we were to be captured.”

Your stomach twists at the code. “Torture?”

“I suppose.” He shrugs, like he’s going to collect your mail or water your plants when you’re on vacation as a favour.

“No, you can’t… How can you shrug at the prospect of being tortured for me? You don’t even know me.”

Leon wants to say he does know you, not completely but there’s things he’s picked up over the course of the day that he feels reasonably confident on. You don’t do good with sitting idle, has the feeling you keep yourself busy when you’re not locked in four walls. He got the feeling you’re thorough and proud of your work, or you were before this doubt crept in.

You like coffee with a splash of creamer, honey in your oatmeal. You don’t have any close friends or family nearby that will be wondering why you’ve gone AWOL just yet… ..and you’re definitely single, because if you had someone waiting at home you would’ve mentioned it they spoke about whisking you away to a safe house, or when Hunnigan said she was going to search your place.

He smiles. “I know you don’t deserve any of what’s happened to you over the last 24 hours, and that’s reason enough.”

“How can you be so sure I don’t?”

“Experience, Dove. Been in this line of work for a long time and, more importantly, I’ve been where you’ve been, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, relenting. “Sorry, my head’s just…”

He squeezes your knee. “I know.”

--

You leave the bathroom later that evening – Leon had ducked in at some point and prepared your toothbrush again – and find him leaned over the sink, scrubbing at a pan and a cloth draped over his shoulder. He’s left out the medicine – two painkillers, two sleeping pills - on the counter, next to a glass of water. It feels oddly domesticated again for what all of this is.

You walk over to the counter, slowly, as he continues washing the dishes.

“I forgot to ask earlier. Have there been any updates?”

He turns, gives you a sympathetic smile. “Not yet. But it’s only the first full day of the investigation, so I’m sure I’ll hear something soon, especially since I’ve sent the report over.”

He’d sent it whilst you were in the bathroom, half-expected Hunnigan to ring right there and then but his cell had remained silent, so he’d moved his attention to the dishes.

“Yeah, suppose other things will take precedence too.” Other things meaning families to inform… What would they tell them?

You take a swig of water before picking up the pills, swallowing them all down in one. Knowing how quick the sleeping aids helped yesterday, you’re aware there’s only a limited time before you’ll feel the effects kick in.

“Well, goodnight, Leon.”

“Wait a sec.” He pulls the cloth off his shoulders and hurriedly dries his hands as you watch on, curiously. He fiddles with the watch around his wrist, pressing a button on the side, then undoing the strap before he holds it out to you. “Here, so you can tell the time. I know there’s no clock in there, so…”

You stare at the offering, not raising your hand to take it. “But what about you?”

“Got my cell.” He pats his pocket, then holds the watch out again. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

You step forward to take it, gripping it a little too tightly in your fingers. It must be your imagination because it feels warm, but that can’t be right.

“Sleep well, Dove.”

Without another thought, you lean up on your tip-toes and press a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

“Thank you.”

You swivel on your heels and walk into the bedroom, closing the door without looking back, missing out on the sight of a flustered DSO agent in the kitchen.

If it wasn’t for the sleeping pills now coursing their way through your system, you would’ve been up for hours longer, heart pounding at what you just did. Instead, you climb into bed, close your eyes and it isn’t long at all until sleep washes over you, his watch still clasped in your hand.

--

Leon’s phone finally vibrates with Hunnigan’s caller ID as he enters back into the living area after finishing his perimeter check. Had to do two rounds of the building because he knew he was too distracted on the first by your kiss, admonishing himself for being so put out of joint by a simple gesture. After his second, more thorough check of the area and confident there was still no sign of any unwanted guests, he’d headed back into the building, making sure everything was locked up before he answered the call – placing the phone up to his ear on the opposite cheek that you had kissed.

“Hunnigan!” He answers, a little too jovial, would lower if his voice if he wasn’t confident you’ll be fast asleep by the amount of time that’s passed since you took your medication. “I was getting worried you’d forgotten all about me.”

“I’m sure.” Her voice is a little tense, but he can tell she’s tired. “Just finished your report.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s not exactly airtight.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose, holding in a sigh. “What happened to innocent before proven guilty?”

“That’s why I’ve put Dove in a safehouse with you, rather than in a cell.”

“So, restrictions remain?”

“Restrictions remain.”

He rolls his eyes, grateful it’s not a video call. “Did you search her place?”

“Unfortunately not. The President wanted the surveillance department back up and running ASAP, so all available manpower had been diverted to that. The tech analyst, however, has confirmed that the breach on the database yesterday wasn’t what you’d call successful.”

Leon walks around the sofa, drops on it a little too heavy. “You don’t sound particularly thrilled by that.”

 “I’m not - the attempt itself was successful, but as soon as the system detected the forced entry, it wiped itself. Every subject that was still under surveillance has been lost.”

“Maybe that’s what they were trying to achieve.” He frowns. “Is there seriously no back-up server?”

“Analyst seemed to think it was their protocol, but it’s just a theory. Everyone who knew exactly how that division had their server set up is no longer with us.”

There’s a pause and he can hear Hunnigan tapping away at her keyboard as usual. “There is something I need to inform you of, though.”

“Right.”

“The tech analyst found the CCTV feeds have been tapped. They couldn’t trace where the feed was being diverted to, but it was definitely a system not within the DSO infrastructure. It’d been active since the attack, but they cut the connection when they discovered it.”

Leon frowns. “So, you’re saying that whoever orchestrated the attack could’ve been watching the cameras since.”

“Mm.”

“And if their objective was to leave no survivors…” Leon’s eyes focus on your bedroom door.

Hunnigan stops typing. “They’ll know they’ve failed.”

--

Part seven.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

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[krys-in-the-playhouse]

OC Brainrots #4: 'Bullying' Napoleon Hours

Haven't done a brainrot post in a while, so I thought I'd use this one to play along with Mo's (@xxsycamore/ @kissmetwicekissmedeadly 's) bullying Napoleon on his birthday prompts and see what my ikevamp girlies would do faced with the opportunity to 'bully' everyone's favorite former emperor.

For previous brainrots, check out the oc masterlist!

Thea

For Thea, I'd imagine her taking the imitating him route, more to tease him than anything. Like, maybe they're out doing shopping errands together a la that one story event where he's out getting groceries with Theo when they run into Shakespeare.

You know what, Theo can come get groceries with them too and he's a little jelly that Naps and Thea are having such a fun, silly conversation and he's feeling a little green-eyed that another man is chatting up his girl. Then, they happen across a handful of his students who asks him about this fencing technique they can't seem to get right.

Always happy to indulge his kids Naps goes to them while the other two are alone. Theo reveals about his jealous feels and Thea thinks it's cute and reminds him that she doesn't feel anything more for Naps than friendship, then proceeds to prove it by imitating him, deepening her voice, speaking in a bad French accent, and fencing with a stick she found on the ground, making Theo chuckle.

But don't think Naps will let this atrocity stand, oh no, as he sicks his students on her with tips on how to improve her form with a flourish of his cape not unlike a swooshy skirt twirl he's likely seen her do with her skirts on occasion, along with a cheeky little tease towards her in Italian (intentionally with his old Corsican accent) which makes her cringe. Theo laughs harder.

Abby

For Abby, she wouldn't be the type to intentionally bully Naps. She doesn’t wanna bully anyone, it's mean, especially someone as nice and cool as Napoleon! Would bullying even work on him? From someone like her? Surely not!

So, with that thought in mind, the best her teasing would come to is telling him something that he's been laughing at for the last five minutes isn't really that funny.

Like, she's a future person, so things in the past are going to be a little different than what she's used to in the modern day, right? Let's take laundry for example. Turn of the century France doesn't have automatic clothes washing machines and likely won't see them for a few more decades yet, unfortunately. Which means laundry day is an all-day test of strength and patience, especially when you need to wash for eleven people plus yourself. She has a personal vendetta against Arthur and his shirt fronts and collars because of the dried blood that refuses to come out and will glare at him every laundry day because of it.

On this thankfully perfectly temperate and sunny laundry day, Sebastian off doing a different chore (there's always a chore to be done in this huge mansion), but he had promised to come help her later on, so she was left on her own. And she gets to Arthur's pile of shirts that need to be cleaned and starched. And guess what she sees on the front and on the collar?

Well, she might have had thoughts of eviscerating him with a palette knife but the thought of cleaning his clothes again afterwards stayed her hand.

What she hadn't counted on was having an audience for the stages of wrath she went through as she looked at the offending white shirt. Namely one former emperor that happened to be passing by, returning from his adventures in town or something. He probably would have passed her unnoticed except he couldn't stop himself from laughing when he saw her face. First, the disbelief taking over her, moving quite rapidly to her clenching her teeth and clutching the fabric tightly in her tiny hands, to disgust, to finally letting a breath out and throwing the soiled shirt quite harder than necessary into the steel pot on the ground, splashing soapy water onto the grass. 

Napoleon laughed at the scene, loudly, making Abby jump and squeak in surprise, embarrassed that her little show had been witnessed. She wanted to go crawl into her room and hide in her shame, but laundry still needed to be done so she continued her task despite the red on her cheeks and ears making her look like a cherry tomato. Pouting, she also mumbles that she wasn't trying to be funny, making Naps smile sweetly.

He apologizes and takes off his jacket, intent on helping her to make up for laughing at her. He gives her some gentle head pats and took on the task of scrubbing Arthur's shirt for her. He then promises to threaten him for putting her through this arduous ordeal, his punishment to be to wash his own shirts if he does this again. Abby, finally, smiles a little, feeling a bit better, which makes Naps smile more, happy she wasn't angry anymore.

Thanks for coming along with me for this 'bullying' adventure with Napoleon!

[number-onekidqueen]

𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓸𝓹𝓪𝓵 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓮 - 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓮

Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger

fluff

Warnings: banter, Deathly Hallows spoilers

After Christmas dinner, everyone was completely exhausted.

Ron and Hermione volunteered to do the washing up, to spare any tired person the job.

Using magic, it would only take a second anyway, but this usually gave them some time to be alone and discuss what happened at dinner before they went to bed.

On Christmas, it was especially more important, as they had many things to discuss.

Tonight, they were discussing Fleur's baby.

"What do you reckon they'll name it?" Ron asked, as he lowered another plate into the hot water filled with soapy suds.

"I'm not sure. They say it's due . . . on the anniversary of the war."

"Oh."

"So, they might name it something do with remembrance. Like Rosemary, for instance."

"Rosemary? What has that got to do with remembrance?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"Well, it's just a herb that muggles traditionally used to commemorate the dead. And now, in remembrance of the first and second muggle wars, muggles wear sprigs of it in their pockets and on lapels as a symbol of remembrance for their soldiers' sacrifice." Hermione explained.

"Wow, that's pretty meaningful."

"That's just a guess though. I mean she might name her after her mother, or sister, or a friend she lost, or anything, really."

"I'd never name a kid after my family members." Ron scoffed, scrubbing madly at a sticky spot on the plate that refused to dissolve.

"Why not?" Hermione probed, passing him two other plates.

"Well, first of all, the double ups. If I said 'Oi, Ginny come here', both of them would be forever saying 'which one?' or both looking my way, wondering which one-"

"Ron that comes heavily down to context, I mean if I said 'Ginny! Come have some cake', then your sister would know I wasn't talking to her, and-"

"And then there's the legacy, and expectations. What if our kid doesn't want to do Quidditch? What if she doesn't look a bit like Ginny?"

"Well, I agree that would be really annoying." Hermione admitted.

"If I was to name our kid right now, I would name it . . . How about Barbara?"

"What?!" Hermione asked, appalled.

"Don't you like it? I think it's quite nice."

"No! Ron, Barbara is a terrible name! We are never naming any of our kids that!"

"What's wrong-"

"Absolutely not, what about something like Chloe?"

"No." Ron immediately responded, repulsed.

"Why-"

"It sounds far too French. I'm not waking up every morning calling our kid that and remembering everyday my failed attempt to ask Fleur."

"Fine. What's another name then, apart from Barbara?"

"Barbara is a good na-"

"This is why mothers name the children, and not fathers. So, I, as the mother, should name the children and not-"

"That's unfair! We should at least agree to a certain name together! Why do you get the choice?" Ron protested.

"Because I carried and gave birth to the child!"

"And I probably had to deal with your anger and-"

"RONALD WEA-"

A stifled giggle escaped from behind them.

Ginny sat on the kitchen step, her eyes sparkling with mirth, her fist in her mouth to prevent herself from laughing.

"What's so funny?!" Ron and Hermione snapped in sync.

"The fact that you started off discussing what Fleur would call her child, and now you're quarrelling over what you'll name your child. Like you're preparing. It's sweet."

All Ron and Hermione could do was share a glance and blush.

"Now, come to bed. Your argument might not be as amusing to sleepy members of the family." Ginny decreed sternly.

As they parted ways, Hermione slipped next to Ron.

"I don't care if this is strange, I just want to make this clear. We are never naming our daughter Barbara."

"We'll see," Ron said, grinning as he left.

[twinkletoeskc]

Untitled Marauders Fanfic Ch.4

Link to Ch. 3

Summary: Arden, Cosette, and Kalliope turn up to their Saturday morning detentions joined by the marauders. Surely no mischief will come about with this group of students.

Heavy enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, multiple relationships, multiple POVs, found family, toxic relationships, abusive families

Ships: James Potter x O/C, Remus Lupin x O/C, Sirius Black x O/C

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello everyone, thank you for the continuous support on this story it is greatly appreciated. Though some not exciting news is that after this chapter the updates will be less frequent as the first four chapters were pre-written. so please be patient in between chapters, and i will continue to post other media about the story in the meantime.

O/C Character Moodboard:

Untitled Fanfic Ch. 4

Kal’s eyes are blurry with residual sleep as she sits waiting on the floor beside the door to the Potions classroom. She leans her head against the wall, letting her eyes close. She didn’t mean to arrive fifteen minutes early, but one of the girls in her dorm sleep talks and often wakes her up far earlier than she ever wants to. 

Such was the case this morning when she awoke to the girl screaming in her sleep. Kal jerked awake, recoiled right off the bed, and entangled herself into the crimson canopy. Frightened, disgruntled, and fully awake, Kal decided that the practical course of action would be to start her day a little early, 

“What are you doing here so early?”

She opens her eyes to see James Potter standing above her, his hair matted to his head with sweat and his face and robes filthy with mud and dirt. Her face twists with disgust, and she pulls her legs into herself so he won’t dirty her pants. “Because I like being punctual. Why are you disgusting?” 

He huffs out a little laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Quidditch practice.” 

She looks at him unimpressed, “And you couldn’t have showered before?” 

He shrugs, “I mean, I could have, but it was either that or fit in a little extra practice time before detention.” 

“God Prongs, you’re filthy,” comes a voice from the hallway, and Remus Lupin makes his appearance. He looks slightly better than he did the previous day. The bruises under his eyes are more of a lilac than a deep plum, and he looks respectable in his corduroys and cable knit sweater despite it being so early into the weekend. He comes to stand by James and discovers Kal on the ground. His face instantly flushes with embarrassment, and his eyes shift away. 

“’Lo, Kalliope…” he mumbles. 

She frowns at her full name, grunting in lieu of a response, her eyes returning to James. “Prongs?”

He looks at her, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Yeah?” 

“Why did he call you that?” 

A coy half smile toys on his lips, “Want to take a guess?” 

She falters, and Remus rolls his eyes, “It’s because his Patronus is a stag.” James clicks his teeth, mumbling something under his breath that sounded vaguely like “Ruined it…” 

Remus sighs; pulling his wand out of his pocket, he points it at James and mumbles “Scourgify.” The muck covering James’s body is suddenly repelled, flinging itself instead onto the walls and the floor. Kal has to duck to avoid a splash of mud from slapping her in the face. “Hey!” James gags, spitting frothy pink soap onto the ground and glaring at Remus. The boy shrugs, “You look like a prat when you come in from Quidditch looking like that. Everyone knows you’re doing it for attention.” 

“Am not.” James grumbles, sliding a hand through his hair to ruffle his flattening trusses. Kal watches the interaction with satisfaction as James continues to complain, his lips producing pink soapy bubbles. 

She can hear footsteps to her right, and as she looks that way, she can see the Hufflepuff girl from the other night in the woods walking towards them. She has a messenger bag slung over a shoulder and her wand perched lazily in her hand. A scroll of parchment suspends itself in the air before her. It appears that she is talking to herself, but upon closer inspection Kal can see that as she speaks, a quill scratches across the parchment in time with her words.

“…and as excitement for the first house match gathers, many fans are expecting James Potter to lead Gryffindor into yet another House Cup victory.” The girl finishes before flicking her wand and sending her supplies flying into her bag.

Kal’s mood sours slightly at James’s self-righteous expression. “Hello, all.” The girl says as she joins the group, and James’s eyes glimmer with interest, “Was that me you were talking about?” The girl’s head quirks as she sizes him up, “Is your name James Potter?” She asks, and James pauses, “Uh, yeah.” 

“Then obviously it was you I was talking about; well, writing about, more like. I’m doing a story on you for the Hogwarts Herald,” she sniffs, “God, you smell ghastly, do you know that?” He frowns at her, ignoring her observation “What is that?” The girl becomes distracted with rifling through her messenger bag, and it takes her a beat too long before she realizes that he is waiting for an answer. “Hmm? Oh, it’s the school newspaper. Do you mind if I get a quick interview from you, since we’re going to be in detention together and all?” Kal eyes the Hufflepuff curiously, “We don’t have a school newspaper.” 

The Hufflepuff dismisses her, “Well, yes, of course we don’t yet, but I’m working on that. So, about that interview…”  

“Hello boys,” Sirius materializes between the two boys, looping his long arms around their necks with an indolent grin. He notices Kal and his eyebrows jump with amusement, “And hello to you too cousin.” She smiles sardonically, “A pleasure.” He nods, “Naturally.” His eyes roam over the group and eventually find the Hufflepuff, “Oh, and you’re here too, uh…” 

“Cosette,” she supplies. 

“Cosette. Of course. I knew that.”

“Sirius, I told you to wait for me; I always get lost on the stairs to the dungeons,” comes a whiney voice from the dark corridor. Sirius regards the boy lightly, an eye roll present in his voice if not in his expression, “Sorry, Wormy. Got bored.” Peter Pettigrew stands on the other side of James Potter, a couple inches shorter and his insecure visage in stark contrast to James’s cocky demeanor, Sirius’s cool confidence, and Remus’s self-assuredness. 

Unsure footsteps echo their way to the group, and Arden appears from the shadows looking hesitant. 

“There you are! Just in time for the fun!” Sirius says, reclined against the stone wall with a lazy grin on his face. Arden’s eyes flit slowly across the group, and Lupin slyly ducks behind James. “You are all here for detention with Slughorn?” She asks. She’s met with a haphazard chorus of yesses, and she snorts. “What a treat,” she mumbles sarcastically. 

“What landed you three in jolly ol’ detention, hmm?” Sirius asks. “Same as you three, I suspect,” Cosette says, still digging through her messenger bag for something. She must have cast some enlargement spell to the interior because she’s elbow deep now. “Caught romping through the forbidden forest.” 

“Ah,” James chuffs, “Amateurs.” 

Arden’s head tilts, “So, you’re not in detention for the forbidden forest, then?” 

“Merlin, no. We’re in the forest all the time.” James grins, “Sirius and I got three weeks detention for putting a “hide and seek” charm on all of Slytherin’s brooms before their first practice.”

“Me too!” Peter squeaks. 

“Ah, yes how could I forget. You did a piss poor job of keeping watch.” James rolls his eyes. 

Arden’s frowns, “Their first practice was today…” 

“Well, it was supposed to be,” Sirius says, “Last I heard they still haven’t found their brooms.” 

“Blimey, three weeks detention, already? The first week of term?” Cossette remarks. 

“You landed detention the first night,” James says blankly. Cossette blinks, “Yes, well…” 

“What are you in for Loony—uh, Remus?” Kal asks, craning her neck to peek at him from behind James. Lupin startles briefly and clears his throat, stepping just so out of James’s shadow. “Well, I skipped my first class of term… and got caught faking a note from Dumbledore.” His eyes flicker ever so slightly to Arden, and her face heats up with understanding. 

Kal frowns suspiciously, “What would you need a fake note from Dumbledore for?” Lupin drops his gaze to his worn loafers, “Ah, well—” 

“There you all are! And with a minute to spare! Well done.” A jovial greeting echoes from the hallway, and Horace Slughorn appears, the colors of his fine robes dulled by the dingey dungeon light. He shuffles his way between them, unlocking the door with a quick flick of his wand. They file in behind him into the empty potions classroom, their eyes straining against the darkness. 

“I will say, I did not expect to have so many students in need of detention this early in the term.” Professor Slughorn comments, setting the wicks on a dozen candles ablaze with another motion of his wand. He settles behind his desk with a pleasant expression, the chair groaning beneath him. “And I was especially surprised to see one of my prefects on the list…” 

Arden’s face alights as his twinkling gaze finds her, “Professor I—” 

He raises a hand, a laugh bubbling up from him. “No need, Miss Wilkes.” He chuckles, “I quite fancy seeing a rebellious streak in my best students. Builds character.” He winks, and she smiles meekly. His gaze turns to find the four boys, “You lot I am less surprised to see.” 

Sirius nods in greeting, smirking, “’Lo professor.” 

Slughorn sighs, “Right! Well, thankfully I do have something in need of doing, so your time will not be wasted. I have several out-of-commission cauldrons taking up space in my classroom. I would like for you to sort these cauldrons into what can be cleaned and repaired or what must be disposed of, and I will ask you to clean and repair the cauldrons you can within your ability to do so, yes?” 

There’s a general mumbling amongst the group and Slughorn smiles, clapping his hand together, “Lovely, well, as you can see, I have already gathered the cauldrons and…” 

He trails off as a small owl flitters into the classroom, a note tied to its ankle. The owl lands on Slughorn’s desk, and the man unties the note, fumbling with the spectacles in his breast pocket before reading it. He stands quickly, buzzing with a different excitement as he crumples the note in his thick fist. “I am dreadfully sorry students, my presence is eagerly demanded at the Three Broomsticks'' His rosy cheeks glow as he adds in a conspiratorial mumble,” By Madam Rosmerta herself, no less.”  The students share an uncertain look as he titters to himself.

“So, we’re free to go, then?” Remus asks. Slughorn looks at him startled, “Oh, certainly not. I would be severely reprimanded if I let you lot loose with no work to show for it.” He slowly makes his way to the door, walking backward to keep his eyes on the students. “I will simply lock you in here until noon, trusting that you will take care of my cauldrons.” 

Arden raises a hand vaguely, “Um, Professor? Are you sure that is safe—” 

“Miss Wilkes, you wound me! I would never leave you in a situation I thought at all unsavory. Besides, I have faith in you to shape this group into some real fine cauldron repairers. By the end of your detention, you might even begin to compete with the house elves!” He makes it to the other side of the door, a cheerful smile disrupting his mustache. With a raise of his wand hand, he declares “Cheers!” and the door folds closed. 

And, with a dull thud, they are locked in.

[gsstories]

“Oh my god, a mosco!!” - “I’m a FAIRY!!”

-----

Slammed on the wall was a humanoid creature with its head having what looked like red flower petals but still not? The creature’s body was half really dark brown, and orange while it wore a ragged and torn cloak over its shoulders and dusty red and orange striped pants with no shoes. Around it were a few girls looking at it in confusion and slight disgust.

“...Did I kill it?” A young, slightly Asian looking girl with a large magenta bow on her head looked at the creature on the wall while a sandal was on the floor near the wall where the creature went splat and she coincidentially was missing one of her sandals. SLAP!

The girls turned and stared at a bigger girl with black skin, curly hair and green attire who just slapped the thing to the wall again. “Yeah, I think it be dead dead now!” The girl said as she pulled her hand away from the dead creature. Or so they thought, the creature started groaning in pain and annoyance, making the girls panic. “KILL IT WITH FIRE-!!”

–

‘Wait wait wait wait, we can’t start like this! Let me show you the context of this chaos!’

–--->

Earlier that day, five girls were all washing a car in the driveway, one of them just splashing others with the hose instead of actually helping clean the car. That one was Diane, a chaotic half Portuguese girl who did little to no actual work.

“Quit it Diane!” A tall, black skinned and curly haired girl with red attire named Adira yelled at Diane and huffed when Diane just giggled mischievously.

Her laughter stopped when the girl with the bow, aka Goldie, threw some water from a bucket at Diane, immediately running away cackling when Diane started chasing her.

“Sooooo, why are you cleaning your mom’s car again?” The girl with green attire asked, her name being Alanis. “It was either this or get my stuff taken away.” A girl with light pink, blue and lavender hair said as she washed the car with a soapy wet cloth, her name being Gin.

“Aight, that’s fair.” Alanis said. “Hey, did you hear about the forest fire from a few weeks ago?”

“Oh, that? Yeah, I heard. Same day of the eclipse apparently. Crazy coincidence huh?” Gin said as Alanis nodded.

“So weird! It came out of nowhere! I haven’t heard any news of anyone getting hurt though so I guess that’s good.” Alanis said.

The girls were enjoying the day just washing the car and splashing each other with water that they did not notice the rather short creature flying around the place. Adira had Diane in a headlock while Gin and Alanis laughed at the situation as GoIdie squeezed water out of her hair. The creature had been successfully kept itself hidden due to the girls paying more attention to each other than their environment but did the mistake of flying too close to Goldie, who freaked out when she felt a presence nearby and almost on instinct took off one of her sandals and threw it at the creature, the pressure of the sandal make it go splat on the wall! Goldie watched with wide eyes before calling out to the others. “GUYS!”

<----–

And that’s how we got here!

“Dude… what the fuckknuckles is THAT?!” Diane exclaimed as she and the other girls looked down at the creature that had fallen to the ground after getting slapped AGAIN.

“A mosquito?” Alanis suggested.

“Too big for a mosquito.” Adira said.

“Cucaracho!” Gin exclaimed as the creature groaned. “Should we call someone?”

“Yes but not our parents.” Goldie said.

“That much is obvious. Gen?” Gin asked as the others nodded. “Gen it is then!”

Taking out her phone, the cotton candy looking girl looked through her contacts and called the one that was named ‘Raccoon’, waiting for the person to answer. The phone rang around 4 times before the person picked up.

“What did you guys do this time?” A tired and exasperated voice asked through the phone.

“Hey, what makes you think we did anything?” Gin asked.

“You never call unless you wanna ramble or you fucked up somehow. You said you were cleaning your mom’s car, what’s there to ramble about THAT?” The girl on the phone asked.

“…Okay, we have a bit of a situation.” Gin admitted.

“Thought so. I’m coming over.” The girl sighed before hanging up.

“Sooooo…” Diane said as she poked the creature with a stick. “What do we do with this?”

“Okay, what am I looking at?” A girl that appears to be the oldest of the bunch asked, looking at the creature that was now wrapped in a towel on a bed.

The creature’s face was half really dark brown, and the other half was orange, its cheeks seemingly having what would be considered blush that could only be found on dolls. The girls were all in Gin’s room, Gen looking at the creature while the others looked at Gen.

“¿Mosquito?” Alanis said.

“It’s too big to be a mosquito.” Gen, the oldest, deadpanned.

“¡Mosco!” Diane exclaimed.

“It doesn't even resemble a mosquito! Why are you calling it a mosquito?!” Gen said as the girls just shrugged, making her groan in annoyance. “Okay, it is definitely NOT a mosquito or any kind of bug. It’s not anything like I’ve ever seen before.”

“It’s lucky Ally didn’t accidentally squash it.” Adira said as Alanis giggled nervously.

“Maybe it’s a fairy?” Goldie suggested.

Silence…

“Nah.”

“Can’t be.”

“Impossible.” “I don’t think so.”

The girls were slapped behind their heads by Genesis when they said that.

“It is clearly a fairy! Jeez, y’all dumb or what?” Gen said. “Also, why is that so hard to believe huh? Have you forgotten the amount of times you all have gotten us in trouble because you messed with some magical thing when I specifically tell you NOT to mess with?”

“Oh yeah��� In my defense, I forget.” Diane said.

“Of course you do.” Gen said as she turned to the fairy. “You think it’ll wake up soon?”

“I don’t know dude, Alanis slapped it a lot.” Gin said.

Gen sighed as she sat down on the bed beside the creature. She rubbed her temples as she felt a headache come in. It hasn’t even been a week since the last magic trouble the girls have gotten into and now they have a fairy in their hands. Just peachy!

“You think it’ll be mad?” Gin asked as she poked the towel burrito fairy.

“I mean, I’d be mad if I was slapped to a wall.” Adira said.

“Heheheh, I’m in trouble.” Alanis chuckled.

“Yeah you are.” Goldie said.

“Ughh…”

The girls all snapped their heads at the sound, looking at the towel burrito fairy… who was waking up. Its eyelids slowly fluttered open, revealing mismatched eyes with the irises being orange while the right sclera was a yellow color, almost white while the left one was pitch black. Most of the group backed away a bit but Gen stayed put, she didn’t have the energy to back away from a potential threat nor did she really care.

“Ooooh, we fucked!” Diane said as the girls agreed.

“Smol!” Goldie exclaimed in awe.

“Abby would so cry at its clothes.” Alanis mumbled.

“Agreed.” Adira said.

The fairy appeared a bit groggy when it woke up but snapped open its eyes the moment it took in its surroundings and saw the girls, HUMAN girls, standing there, staring at it. 

“Hi!” Gin said to the fairy, a wide smile on her face.

The moment realization set in, the fairy’s expression turned to one of pure hatred as it tried to get out of its fluffy prison. The girls watched the creature struggle a bit and couldn't help but giggle.

“Okay, this is kinda funny to watch.” Adira said as the others chuckled.

They didn’t laugh for long, however, when the towel caught fire and turned into ashes.

Silence came over the room…

And then…

“¡Cabrón!” Gin was the one to break the silence with her scream, grabbing the fairy from the bed as she looked at the pile of ashes on it. “Now it’s gonna smell like smoke…! Dang it…”

“Unhand me this instant!” The fairy yelled in indignation.

“And the towel, the fucking towel! I am so lucky I used an old one, if I used one of the new ones, my mom would have killed me!” Gin said, not hearing out the fairy.

“Honestly, same.” Adira said as Alanis nodded.

“Me too! Ashes on the bed? Oh, that’s a death sentence!” Diane added her two cents.

“Ow!” Gin exclaimed as she dropped the fairy and looked at the palm of her hands in confusion. “Did you just burn me??”

The fairy did not answer at first, it simply flew in the air, glaring at the group of girls who either looked shocked, confused or just… bored.

“Why am I here?!” The fairy demanded to know.

“Uhh, Goldie kind of made you go splat on a wall cause she thought you were a bug so we brought you here to make sure Ally didn’t accidentally kill you when she slapped you two other times.” Diane said as she looked at Goldie and Ally.

“Sorry, I panicked…” Goldie said, a bit embarrassed.

“It’s instinct! If it twitches, ya gotta hit it to make sure it stays dead!” Ally said as the rest looked at her, unimpressed.

“Anyway, who are you?” Gen asked, turning to the fairy with a raised brow.

“Why should I speak to you maggots?” The fairy seethed at the humans.

“I don’t know. I’m kinda bored.” Gen said.

“So this is how it’s like being burned… Cool!” Gin said with a wide, very unsettling smile on her face.

The fairy looked unnerved and confused at the cotton candy color haired girl’s reaction at being injured. Seriously, what the hell?

“You gonna answer my question or question why cotton chick is a masochist?” Gen asked. “I advise you don’t do the latter, you’ll end up scarred for life.”

“Why would you humans want to know who I am?” The fairy said as he narrowed his eyes at the girl.

“Curious,” Gen said with a shrug.

“…Just that? Curious?” The fairy repeated, scoffing in disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, I am.” Gen said tiredly. “You know, you’re kinda rude.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to care about how I treat your kind?” The fairy said in a mocking tone, grinning like a little shit, which annoyed Gen.

“I don’t know what your deal is but can you please not act like a total douche?” Gen said as she scowled slightly at the fairy.

“I could… but I only do so for people who truly deserve respect.” The fairy stated. “What, you think I should respect you lowlives? How pathetic can you be to expect such a thing from me?”

Now that made Genesis snap.

“Okay, ya wanna be a bitch now? Fine! You listen up! I was called to make sure these gals didn’t get themselves killed cause they swatted an oversized cockroach who might as well have dropped dead. I was worried that they killed an innocent creature but it seems I was wrong.” Gen scowled at the fairy, who glared back. “Who do you think you are, acting all high and mighty? You think you’re better than us huh? I don’t know who you are and frankly I could care less but I swear to whichever god exists above, I WILL make sure you pray to them if you are to insult or burn one of them again.”

The human girl and the fairy stayed silent as they kept glaring at each other for a very long while, neither breaking eye contact. Meanwhile, the rest of the girls were watching all this unfold with bated breaths.

“Okay, getting bored, Gin, I am raiding your fridge!” Diane said as she skipped out of the room to the kitchen.

“Yeah yeah, whatever!” Gin said as she looked at her burnt hands.

“Okay, let’s get that patched up.” Adira sighed as she dragged Gin away to heal her burns.

“Did we ever finish washing Gin’s mom’s car?” Goldie asked.

“Ugh, I’ll finish washing it.” Gen groaned as she grabbed the fairy. “And you are coming with. I ain’t letting you out of my sight.”

The fairy yelled at Gen and thrashed around, demanding she put them down. It even tried burning her but it just… didn’t work?

“Mom friend immunity!” Diane yelled, answering the non asked question of the fairy’s.

This was going to be annoying.

…

…

…

Hosing off the leftover soap suds from the car, Genesis was in a rather bad mood now. One because she was interrupted from doing a project, two because she had to deal with a jerk ass fire fairy who kept trying to burn her and three, she had to finish washing the car cause she doubted the other girls would do so.

“You certainly look like a ray of sunshine.” The fairy said sarcastically while in Gen’s grip.

“Shut up. I have a headache and your stupid comments are NOT helping.” Gen mumbled as she rubbed her temples.

She was feeling very drained, even speaking was too much work…

“I am aware.” The fairy said with a grin, which annoyed Gen even more.

“Okay, I am sorry my friends swatted you but can you not act like a total jerk? It’s getting old.” Gen said as she looked at the fairy she was holding.

“Like that will stop me.” The fairy scoffed.

Gen rolled her eyes, figuring she would get nowhere with this stubborn as Hell fairy.

…

“...Why does my fire not hurt you?” The fairy asked Genesis, which caught her a bit off guard.

“What?” Gen asked as she turned to the fairy.

“I said, why does my fire not hurt you? I have been trying to hurt you but it’s not like you even feel it!” The fairy said, grumbling under its breath. “It’s frustrating…”

“I… don’t know.” The girl mumbled.

“So you’re a freak of nature huh?” The fairy said, trying to get under her skin.

“Yep.” Gen said just that.

“Seriously? That’s it?” The fairy said, frowning at the girl’s one word answer.

Gen just nodded her head.

“Oh, so now you’re not going to talk? What, did I hurt your feelings?” The fairy mocked.

Gen only shook her head.

“Then why aren’t you speaking?!” The fairy screamed at the girl in frustration.

Gen just shrugged her shoulders. She felt tired so as soon as she finished cleaning off the car, she went inside Gin’s house, where she saw the girls chilling inside with Gin having some bandages on her hands. Gen grumbled under her breath, getting the attention of Adira and Alanis. “Hey, you okay?” Adira asked as Gen shook her head. “You tired?” Gen nodded as she handed the fairy to Adira before going over to the couch and laying on it, quickly falling asleep.

“What’s wrong with her?” The fairy asked, kind of confused.

“She’s just drained, is all. College applications are taking a toll on her so it makes her more exhausted than usual.” Adira answered as she put the fairy down on the table. “Let me guess, she only shook or nodded her head to any questions you had.” “Yes.” The fairy said.

“Yeah, that’s how you know she’s super drained! Like, drained enough so that even speaking is too much work!” Alanis added herself into the conversation.

 “Other times she just doesn’t feel like speaking and communicating through texts and stuff.” Adira said.

“Texts?” The fairy repeated.

“Yeah, you know, text messages.” Adira said, waving her phone around a bit.

“What is that??” The fairy asked, confused.

“A… phone? Have you ever seen one?” Adira asked.

“I have but I do not know the purpose of such tools.” The fairy said as it flew around the house, checking some of the stuff around the place.

The fairy looked around, staring at the walls and the rooms of the house. It entered Gin’s room, taking proper notice of its surroundings now. It was a pastel red color with a dresser and a large, circular mirror, white shelves on the walls that held some pretty old cartoon mouse plushies, some posters of different fandoms (not like the fairy would recognize any of them), a cream colored dress that had a closed laptop and a drawing tablet along with some traditional art tools. Near the window was a bookshelf with a collection of books, some going as far as being horror to comic books while also having some figurines placed between some parts of it and some movie DVDs too. The closet was filled with different outfits, some being different variations of red and most being pants, some even being suits. Hanging there was a pink, fluffy robe with snowflake and dogs with Christmas hats and scarves patterns. On the door were hanging different types of purses, like, a lot!

“This is… some room.” The fairy mumbled.

“Pretty neat huh?” Gin said out of nowhere while eating fried chicken, startling the fairy.

“Where did you-” The fairy said before getting cut off.

“Don’t worry about it! Anyway, you don’t know what a phone is so I suspect you don’t know what a laptop is either.” Gin said as she ate her chicken.

“That would be correct…” The fairy muttered as he looked at Gin’s food. “What are you eating?” “Fried chicken! The best there is!” Gin said, noticing the way the fairy looked at the food. “Want some?” “Me? Want your human food? Hah! Don’t make me laugh!” The fairy laughed but was cut off when his stomach grumbled.

“Ya sound pretty hungry to me.” Gin said as the fairy growled at her. “Listen, I don’t know why you dislike humans so much and I know it ain’t my place to ask about it but can you please at least just not antagonize us? You can ignore us, you can act like we don’t exist, that’s fine. But don’t treat us with such disrespect when we don't do anything.” “Your friend swatted me into a wall.” The fairy said with a deadpan at the memory, which made Gin grimace.

“Ooookay, that one is on us.” Gin said as she rubbed the back of her neck.

Silence took hold…

…

“You’re an odd one. Smiling after being burned.” The fairy said. “Why would you smile? Doesn't it hurt?” “I mean, yeah, of course it hurts. But I guess cause I don’t get hurt often, it sometimes spikes my adrenaline, like how it did when I first dyed my hair!” Gin said with a grin as she ran her fingers through her multi-colored hair. “You ain’t wrong, I am kinda odd but it beats being boring! As for the pain, why worry...? Something like a burn will heal eventually with time no?"

Gin laughed softly as she left a plate of chicken on the desk of her room as she walked to her door.  

“I will admit, my friends and I are not the most efficient of the overall human population. We are not fully sane I would say but I think we are alright. At least we are decent enough to not be jerks to customer service!” Gin stated proudly. The fairy did not understand that last bit.

“You can stay if you want, as long as you don’t cause problems. Name is Gin, by the way. Gin Rose.” Gin said. “Doubt you’ll actually use my name but hey, it’s best to know anyway right?” With that, she left the room. The fairy looked at the open door for a little while before flying over to the desk with the plate of food.

“What a strange girl.” The fairy stated as he looked at the food.

And then Eclipse took a bite…

----- So a few months ago I wrote a mini fic called When Autumn Starts about my OC Daniel meeting and interacting with Fairy Eclipse so I decided to make a longer fic where not 1 but 6 of my OCs interact with him! It was fun making this!

Hope you enjoyed this lil fic! DCA Fairy AU and Fairy Eclipse belong to @ayyy-imma-ninja (I hope I got his personality alright, I know it's not 100% accurate but I did my best!) Goldie, Gen, Gin, Adira, Alanis and Diane belong to me!

[glorious-spoon]

you say you’re tired and you just wanna close your eyes [9-1-1 |  Buck/Eddie | 1/1]

Rating: Teen Wordcount: 1400 Warnings: Presumed dead; Coma Other tags: Hurt/comfort; Pre-relationship Summary: After the lightning strike, Buck dreams.

ON AO3

The man on the TV is dead. This is the first thing Evan learns about him—before his name, even. He’s a firefighter, and he’s dead.

“Shots rang out this morning, leaving one firefighter dead and two more injured in what appears to be a targeted attack on the LAFD,” the reporter is saying into her mic. Her face is serious, her red hair windblown. She seems familiar, though Evan can’t place her. Behind her, yellow caution tape flutters around the crime scene: haphazardly parked fire engines, the burnt-out husk of a car, a blurred spot on the pavement that is almost certainly blood. Uniformed officers move solemnly through the carnage. “Edmundo Diaz of Station 118 was struck by gunfire while responding to a medical emergency in downtown Los Angeles. He was later pronounced dead at the hospital…”

Her voice seems to fade out, or maybe that’s just the buzzing in Evan’s ears as he stands there frozen in the kitchen, a soapy dish in his hands half-rinsed. On the screen, the live footage has been replaced by a still photo of a man in a blue dress uniform, dark-eyed, handsome. He’s not smiling, but his gaze seems to pierce through Evan like a knife.

Shots fired! Firefighter down! I repeat, firefighter down!

I need you to hang on. We’re so close, I need you to hang on for me.

Please just—

Evan shakes his head, disoriented. His hands are empty and the TV is off, though he doesn’t remember moving.

-

There’s a voicemail on his phone, and he doesn’t know who it’s from. A man’s voice, rough and exhausted, quiet where he’s got his phone pressed to his ear.

“Christopher misses you, you know. He’s in school right now. He didn’t want to go, but he’s already missed two days, and I can’t…” a deep shuddering sigh. “I guess you should know that Bobby made me take some time off. Said I can’t be out in the field when I’m like this. He’s right. I hate it, but he’s right. I can’t focus like this. So you have to wake up, okay? I need my partner back. And Chris—I told him you’d wake up. You’re not gonna make a liar of me, are you?” Silence. Then a soft noise, another shaky breath. “Come on. Please come back to me. Just wake up, I know you can do it.”

“I’m awake,” Evan mumbles, even though his bedroom is empty and he knows he’s talking to no one. “I’m right here.”

The message ends. Evan lowers his phone. His hand aches, like something has been squeezing it hard.

-

There are numbers in his phone that he doesn’t recognize, a stranger’s handwriting on the whiteboard calendar on his fridge. Magnets in the shape of planets.

-

The endless California highway loops out ahead of him as he drives, pavement rumbling beneath the tires of the Jeep. On the radio, Bruce Springsteen sings, You say you’re tired and you just wanna close your eyes and follow your dreams down, and Evan mouths the words along with him, glancing at the passenger seat like someone’s going to be sitting there looking back at him.

The song ends, and the radio announcer says, “We’re all waiting for you, kid. I know you’re going to wake up. I have faith in you. But don’t take too long, because we’re all—”

-

“You’re so loved,” Maddie says. She’s crying, and Evan hates that. Hates that he can’t reach out, that there’s just her voice over the phone. Just her tears a thousand miles distant. “I know you’ve always had a hard time believing that, but you’re so, so loved. And it’s not just me, it’s not just Eddie and Christopher, or Bobby, or Chimney and Hen and—everyone, you’ve touched so many people’s lives, you make the world so much brighter just by being in it. Please, Evan, please—”

He blinks. His eyes are wet, and there’s a ghost of warmth, like someone has just brushed a kiss against his forehead.

But the room is empty. He’s alone.

-

Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz passed away unexpectedly on May 17. A former Army medic, he was awarded the Silver Star for valor in combat. He continued his service in the Los Angeles Fire Department, which he joined in 2018. He was predeceased by his wife, Shannon. He is survived by his parents, Ramon and Helena Diaz; his younger sisters, Adrianna and Sophia, and his son, Christopher…

Evan sets his phone down, feeling vaguely ill. The break room at work is full of people, but he’s sitting alone at a table, and the swirl of laughter and conversation never quite seems to touch him.

Then someone settles onto the bench next to him.

“You saved my life, you know,” the man says in that same raspy, exhausted voice. Evan wants to look at him, but he can’t make his head move. “I don’t think I ever told you that in so many words, but you did. Not just when you pulled me out of there, not just when you broke down my door that night when Chris called you, but in every way since we’ve met. It took me a while to get that, and I was going to tell you, but then you—” A deep, shaky breath. “Just. I don’t know what my life would be without you in it, and I don’t want to find out. Okay? And I’m not telling you anything more than that. We’re not doing deathbed love confessions, here, Buck. You want to hear the rest of it, you’re going to have to wake up.”

“I’m trying,” Buck mumbles.

He lifts his head, but the man is gone.

Like always, Evan is alone.

-

The ocean laps at the shore, and the breeze carries the smell of salt, the sun off the water so bright it’s blinding.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” asks the boy on the bench next to him.

“I’m already a grownup,” Evan says. “What about you?”

“I want to be a firefighter like you and Dad.”

“I’m not a firefighter.”

The boy laughs. “Don’t be silly, Buck.”

He’s older now, childish softness sharpening into the beginnings of adolescence. His expression has turned solemn; his glasses reflect the sunlight, obscuring his eyes. “Dad says you can hear us and it helps to talk to you, but I don’t know what to say. So I’m going to tell you about my science fair project. We’re growing slime mold in petri dishes—remember how you helped me set it up? Dad thinks it’s gross, but I think he’s just jealous because he can’t keep plants alive. Also, I started another sample with Froot Loops, and it likes those way better than the oatmeal. Did you know that slime molds aren’t classified as fungi anymore? I’ve been doing a lot of reading on it. I have a lot to tell you when you wake up.”

-

“Listen, I know you’re having a nice week-long nap here, Buck, but it’s time for you to wake up. Jee-yun misses her favorite babysitter, it’s unbearable. Uncle Buck this, Uncle Buck that—”

“Chimney,” says the woman next to him. Her face blurs in Evan’s vision, a confused impression of glasses and a warm, exasperated smile.

“Yeah, okay. I guess the rest of us really miss you too.”

“He means it, you know,” the woman says. “We all miss you. We love you, and we miss you, and we can’t wait for you to come back home.”

“It’s killing Eddie,” the man adds.

“Chim.”

“What? It’s the truth.” Pressure closes around his fingers, and the man sounds more serious when he speaks this time. “Hey, I mean it, though. I already lost one brother, I can’t lose you too. Okay?”

They’re outside, he thinks. The sunlight is blinding.

Or, no. That isn’t sunlight. Lightning splits the sky. There’s metal beneath his hands. A sudden weightlessness catches him, and he falls, he’s falling, and someone is screaming his name, but it isn’t his name—

-

“Buck, I swear to god,” Eddie Diaz whispers.

But you’re dead, Evan tries to say, except that he’s not sure it’s true. He thinks maybe he’s been the one who’s dead this whole time. His bedroom is empty, and he’s alone because Evan Buckley has always been alone, but right now someone is holding his hand. Warm lips press a kiss to the backs of his knuckles.

“Eddie,” he rasps, and this time it feels different. His throat is raw, and it hurts to speak.

This time it feels real.

Buck opens his eyes.

[another-corpo-rat]

This was…originally very different, and fit the ‘Delicate’ prompt much better than a mere line but aw well this version flows much better. did you know the two counter-intel agents in the show had first names? Because I didn’t

Prompt: Delicate Adam Smasher/OC Warnings for mentions of blood, Spoilers for the end of edgerunners Summary: Smasher is unwinding after a dose of violence, Victoria is wound up because of the work it dropped on her lap.

.

The AV Hangar is quieter than it usually is. Most of the mechanics and cleaning staff done for the night – all except one, an intern stuck well after hours, trying not to shit himself as he fills a bucket of soapy water next to where Adam Smasher sits.

Adam doesn’t snarl at the boy to move faster; last time he did that the fuck had dropped the bucket and what was supposed to be a quick wash became a whole thing. Helped that he felt calmer than he usually did, at ease only in the way a bit of fun could conjure.

And he didn’t even have to break a joytoy or two for it to settle over him this time. He was almost grateful for that counter-intel cunt dragging him into her mess, it’s been a while since some gonk was brave enough to stand up to him. The sight of the kid donning the cyber-skeleton alone was worth it. Like a toddler wearing his father’s boots and thinking it made him a big boy. Fucking adorable.

He made sure to save it from his black-box, was in the process of uploading it to the shared folders he had with Victoria, certain his little netrunner would adore the carnage as much as he did, when he heard the elevator ding.

The intern tenses at the sound. No one else was supposed to be up here, but by the familiar click of heels he’d guess the boy would have a hard time enforcing that.

“Leave.” Victoria says sharply, her voice cutting through the empty hangar and startling the intern enough that he drops the sponge into the bucket. A few suds splash up, white froth stark against his black chrome and the kid looks about ready to shit himself at that. As if his entire purpose here wasn’t to get cleaned.

His mouth is opening and closing, a fish on a hook. “Did I stutter?” And she’s as effective a club as any to beat him against the head.

She looks like she’s about to. Adam makes sure to keep the building rumble in his chest quiet, fans close to ticking up at the building heat. She was in a mood.

“N-no ma’am, but I- I’m supposed to—” He looks to Adam, desperate. As if he was going to help.

“Listen to your superiors, yes. Which you are not doing.” Her expression eases into that dangerously kind thing, the slight little smile that’s too pointed not to hide teeth. “Why is that?”

“I- I’m not supposed to leave until-”

“Do you need a fucking escort?” The intern’s neck almost breaks with how quickly he turns to face Adam, and he’s sure the boy rattles his brain with how violently he shakes his head.  Their reactions never fail to tickle him, the sudden paling and wide eyes. Heartbeat spiking to dangerous levels of fast. It was almost as entertaining as Victoria’s annoyed little huff when the boy finally leaves. Darting across the hangar like there was something nipping at his heels.

She closes the feet of space between them, shrugging off her suit-jacket and tossing it to the floor. Definitely in a mood then. He knew the drill; let her distract herself however she chooses and she’ll calm the fuck down eventually. This was one of her newer methods of distraction. One he wasn’t going to question, not when it meant she was the one scrubbing him down instead of some shaky intern. He leans back instead of hunching over himself, watching as she rolls up her sleeves before she kneels between his legs, grabbing the sponge.

She was more thorough than they tended to be anyways, not afraid of getting rough when she scoured his finer mechanisms. He groans softly, optics dimming and head tilting back as she dislodges something that got caught in his ankle. It was like a massage, they were just missing the scented candles and oils. Maybe the weird chiming music the one that Michiko dragged him to decades ago had.

Huh. He should take Victoria there sometime. If it was still around. She’d probably enjoy the shit they do with the hot stones.

“That netrunner,” He rumbles in the deliberate pause of her sentence, as good a response as any, “did she manage to cut through your ICE?” What kind of stupid ass-

It was like she didn’t know him.

“She wasn’t even close to cracking it.” He onlines his optics as a thought hits him, lifting his head again to look at the woman between his legs, scrubbing away at the blood on his chrome with that damn little furrow to her brow.

He nudges her with his knee, waiting until she looks up to ask: “Is that what’s got you so wound up? You worried about some gutter-scum frying my circuits?” It would be touching, if it wasn’t a fucking laughable idea. She of all people should know that much. She scoffs.

“Hardly.” A bite of a word. There’s more force than necessary when she twists the sponge, red-hued water spilling back into the bucket. She slaps it back against his thigh, meeting the warning of a growl with a look before her shoulders ease with a sigh and she gets back to it. “The girl was an Arasaka asset, under our noses this entire fucking time. And she got away. Again.”

Ah, not quite gutter-scum then. But still.

“Don’t see how that’s your problem.”

“It shouldn’t be, but Mayes has decided it is.” Her next exhale is a heavy thing, her head resting against the plate of his now-clean thigh. No doubt raking through her collection of blackmail, trying to find something hard enough to slap her wannabe superior with. He knows she’ll come up empty. She wouldn’t be moping around him otherwise.

It’d be a shame to leave her so sour when he was in such a good mood.

“Well then,” he hums, reaching to tangle his fingers in her hair. The blonde locks flow easily between his fingers, soft. He’s learned how to do it so it doesn’t get caught in his joints. “It’s a good thing I have something that can make your day so much better, isn’t it?”

“I swear to God, Adam. If you pull out your cock—”

“Tempting, but not quite.”

She raises an eyebrow, but any questions she might have quieten as he sends her a recording from his black-box. Of one Kate Mayes, and the hand she had in tonight’s mess.

“Oh,” she croons, the slight knit that remained on her brow easing as her expression sharpened, golden eyes alight and lips curling into a wolfish grin. “Now that is interesting.” She’s looking more like herself now, sounding more like it too. He chuckles fondly as she rocks up and forward, climbing onto his lap and pressing her lips against his mandible. His hand settles on her ass, for support. Of course.

“So, are you gonna give this cunt hell or are you handling this ‘delicately?’” He puts too much emphasis on the word, hissing it out. They’ve had arguments – more loud disagreements, really – about how to handle blackmail. He was no better than a roid-rage manic in a china shop, according to her.

And she took her sweet ass time to do anything with it. Always waiting, calling for patience that ran out a month ago. There were instances he was close to wringing her neck in the interim.

“Oh hell no.” She says now, teeth bared in that grin he’s come to adore, “I’m burying the bitch.”

“That’s my girl.” He pats her ass. “Make sure she knows who handed you the shovel.”

[liskantope]

Okay, so here's the review of the Netflix limited series Maid that I said I might write (for whatever interest anyone has in it, as I'm guessing that almost none of my followers have seen Maid and I doubt this post will particularly entice anyone to see it). I've held off reading any reviews of it so as not to color my opinion.

The best I can say about Maid is that I found it somewhat educational; it was engaging; and I got to care enough about the story and some of the characters to keep watching through the ten episodes. But I otherwise found it mediocre and very flawed, though flawed in interesting ways which I think were part of what kept me watching. (Interesting enough to make a very long post, apparently.) Maybe it doesn't help that I watched it straight after finishing Six Feet Under, a truly fantastic series, and Maid was recommended to me by the same person in just as enthusiastic a tone but seemed quite meh in immediate comparison.

(Vague spoilers immediately to follow; more specific spoilers later below the cut.)

Maid is about a young woman named Alex with an almost-three-year-old daughter who has just run away from an abusive living situation with her boyfriend and is struggling to find a way out of crippling poverty to get a stable and safe life for her and her child. The tone of deliberately directly educating the audience is sprinkled throughout a good bit (though by no means all) of the script, which contributes to the "meh"-ness but which I appreciated as education, mainly of how the social services system works as well as how one gets and sustains a job as a maid doing cleaning work for different homes. (I do like the unspoken symbolism of cleaning up other people's messes as both an occupation and as the general pattern of her personal life.) An example of this "clearly written to educate" aspect to the script is all the dialog specifying the concept of "emotional abuse". (As a sidenote, I have my doubts about whether the boyfriend Sean's behavior can really be rounded off specifically to emotional abuse, which I have generally understood to mean "manipulating emotionally with words, like for instance to make the other person feel worthless, or threats of violence": some of that was going on but a lot of it was Sean scaring Alex with violent behavior (though not actually striking her) which makes her feel physically threatened, making it impossible for Alex to work or have basic adult-levels of control of her day-to-day life, etc. Sean's behavior prior to the start of the story and later is seriously abusive, but I'm not sure that the severe controllingness, just because it's not directly physical abuse, should be categorized as emotional abuse instead. Maybe I'm wrong and could find out by research that emotional abuse is defined as all abuse that isn't physical or something.)

The show mixed the modern fast-paced style of comedy with wacky side characters together with the overall drama of the situation in a way that, well, I suppose could have been done much worse. I often was able to predict the "beats" and specific plot turns just because I recognized them from tropes of standard American sitcoms and slightly soapy dramas.

Some characters are developed fairly well in my opinion (like Alex's mania-prone mother), but others are developed sketchily and inconsistently (like Sean, despite his central position in the story, or like Alex's dad who turns out to have some parallel faults to Sean's). The writers were clearly going for making Sean a nuanced character who has a nice side when he's sober but intersperses that with controlling, hateful behavior on top of his violent rages. I understand intellectually that a person can be that way, and in fact if they made Sean out to be a monster all the time I would be criticizing the writers for lack of nuance in characterization. But for reasons I can't entirely put my finger on, for the first two thirds or so of the series I found something piecemeal and not very believable about how Sean was coming across.

It's notable to me that ultimately every single female character winds up being vindicated as a wonderful and sympathetic badass (really only Alex's mother is the one that retains serious flaws and even she in the end is extremely sympathetic), while every single male character winds up coming across as a horrible person. Okay, so some would say that Nick (quickly and predictably established as Alex's main romantic interest apart from Sean) doesn't qualify as a bad guy -- in fact, he's implausibly saintly almost throughout -- but eventually he (in another predictable beat) decides his niceness is going to come to an end and is dropped completely from the rest of the story, I think the only major character whose interactions don't get tied up in a neat knot at the end. I honestly don't mind the "all women are amazing, all men are awful" outcome as much as I'd have thought I might. The main social theme of the show, besides poverty, is domestic violence after all, and while I do wish feminists didn't tend to depict it as so exclusively male-to-female in nature, I didn't particularly expect this show to be exceptional in breaking out of that.

I will also give the show credit for elevating class issues above race issues, having a diverse cast without mentioning race once apart from Alex's internal monologues about feeling like "white trash", having the rich character who eventually befriends Alex being a black woman, etc., particularly during 2021, a time in the wake of George Floyd when the overall social discourse ethos was very pressuring to Make Everything About Race All The Time.

Alex is not an inconsistently or sketchily -written character, but I would say that she's... not really a developed character at all, so much as a blank slate marked by all the complicated and difficult situations she's put in. Her programming basically consists of "be completely sympathetic at all times in all decisions she makes, and be incredibly competent at everything she tries to do" and then seeing how she goes when tons of adversity from all directions is thrown at her. I realize this is a very dehumanizing way to talk about someone, but I'm approaching her in her capacity as a fictional character consciously created by writers, and I think she was created in a sort of empty way. Oh sure, she has some vulnerabilities, and she makes like a couple of mistakes (one of them a very big one: see below cut) but always the mistake even a wise person would kind of have to make in her situation. This, more than any other aspect of the show, is what differentiates it in my view from a truly great show like Six Feet Under. Eventually some non-externally-determined personality shows through, as we see that Alex has a flair for writing, but it still comes across to me as "the writer decided on a talent for Alex to have so that she can wind up with a hopeful future".

What (in some sense deep down kind of) bothers me most about Alex's characterization is that she's just so consistently hyper-competent at doing absolutely everything she tries to do and doing it all at once while being a perfect mother to her three-year-old. I don't criticize this as unrealistic, since I actually do know people (one of them who similarly successfully struggled out of an absolutely daunting level of poverty and lack of support) like this; they are the sort of people I've bitterly described as so many more times productive than I am that they appear to have superpowers. But the show did leave me wondering, is Alex's outcome really that typical? Don't most people in her situation do several times worse at trying to get out of it, because most people have several times less competence/neurotypicality/ability not to mention a particular talent like Alex's talent for writing? And then there's the fact that, after the first half of the series highlights all the dysfunctions of The System, later in the series all these things rather implausibly abruptly fall into place for Alex. It seems ultimately calculated for good-feels rather than gritty likelihood. And, I mean, it is refreshing for not every show with obvious social justice messages to go what we might call "the Orange is the New Black route" where we have to make sure that not too much comes out okay for the characters because then we might be implying that sometimes justice actually does get done. But I see issues with both extremes here.

An interesting note: in Alex's big cathartic confrontation scene with Sean, she tells him that she has PTSD from his treatment of her, but I noticed no evidence whatsoever on screen that she had symptoms of PTSD. (There is some strong hinting of PTSD from childhood due to her father's behavior, in fact, but not from adulthood.) And just as strangely, it's never mentioned again. (As anyone here who knows my views might guess, I'm not terribly happy about this because the writers / Alex seem to be saying that having PTSD is an automatic aspect of surviving domestic abuse and that we don't need to bother to have an actual concrete definition/description for PTSD -- of course, I suppose someone who had gone through what Alex had gone through might well wind up with some kind of PTSD, but show it, please, and don't imply that it's just an automatic meaningless default.)

Anyway, not only is Alex hyper-competent, but her kid is kind of a perfect kid even at barely three years old while rolling with the very turbulent punches of Alex's chaotic life (which involves not knowing whose roof they'd sleep under from day to day). Oh, I think once it comes up that she has issues sometimes with being told that she has to get off the swing at the playground, or something. Let's just say, I know plenty enough about myself at that age to say I would not handle the chaos and instability one tenth as well and that I (and honestly most kids) might be quite visibly damaged by the end of it.

Anyway. Now for the writing at the end which killed a lot (though not all) of the respect I still had for the show. This will be more specifically spoilery regarding Alex and Sean's relationship, so is placed under the cut.

The basic synopsis of Alex/Sean is as follows. Alex and Sean, right up to the start of the series, were in an abusive relationship in which Sean had developed a violent temper whenever he was drunk, never striking her or their child but punching and destroying things near her. She decided she had enough the night the story begins, when she had to pick pieces of glass out of her daughter's hair, and runs away with the kid. It's later revealed that Sean had cut off her credit card some time earlier after she had missed a payment, so there were multiple forms of abuse going on here.

Sean manages to temporarily secure full custody of their daughter. Then he shows a better side of himself in a scene where he confesses that he needs to clean his act up and drops the claim of full custody, leaving them with equal custody. Sean manages to get sober for a while, and he and Alex have their ups and downs as co-parents. Then, in a moment of (very understandable) weakness, after Sean is super helpful to Alex when a separate crisis comes up, Alex sleeps with Sean (fulfilling another trope I have noted before), grows to trust him again, and gradually drifts towards getting back together with him.

Sean's run of acting like an angel ends very abruptly when he gets very upset over the fact that Alex just got awarded a scholarship to go to college in another state; in the next few hours he very deliberately gets rid of Alex's one mode of independent transportation giving a BS excuse and physically intimidates her when she protests (it's ambiguous but it seems not unreasonable to assume that there's no alcohol in the house at this time and he hasn't had a drink). Sean then goes back to drinking, effectively imprisons Alex in their house (her feeling of completely losing her sense of self is artfully depicted through images of her sinking into dark, deep holes), doesn't let her have a phone or a job or any access to money, and controls her every move. This is the kind of "on the bottle" behavior I was thinking of in these posts which I'm afraid tells me something pretty awful about a person even if they were to become permanently sober.

Then through a implausibly perfect sequence of fortunate developments, Alex escapes, gets a fancy lawyer to help her pro bono to gain full custody of the kid, and gains some promise of a good future. At first Sean reacts predictably badly, but then he has a revelation that he really needs to get clean in order to be a fit father and so relinquishes his claim to custody. He makes a confession to Alex's face very similar to the one he made earlier in the season (I note, never concretely naming or apologizing for the extremely abusive things he recently did to Alex, just owning up again to the fact that he can't be a parent until he's sober), and in that very conversation, offers for Alex to stop by his house to pick up their daughter's stuff, which Alex agrees on the spot to do (that's right, cheerfully walk back into the house that was your prison last time you were there -- oh and you mentioned you have PTSD from it, by the way -- alone with the man who imprisoned you). In their next scene together, Alex is leaving for college with their daughter, and she warmly tells Sean he can come visit their daughter whenever he wants, to which Sean earnestly vows to get permanently sober and visit tons. It's played as a really nice ending to the turbulent relationship between them.

Obviously the writer wasn't going to be dumb enough to have Alex and Sean get back together again in their happy ending, but man does Sean get off way too easy in this ending, and if I don't find that this decision was harshly criticized in multiple reviews, I'll be tempted to conclude that the aggressive 2010's-era form of internet feminism is truly dead (which, I shouldn't be complaining, but... it did made some good points?).

Again, the rationale seems to be that, well, Sean is a monster when drunk but great when sober, so if he promises to be sober, sure, warmly let him back into your lives. The thing is, number one, he promised to clean up his act earlier in the series and look how that turned out half a series later. And two, when Sean turned back into an abuser (an even worse one than before) near the climax of the story, I thought that was quite good writing, and that Sean's true character was finally coming together: his being so nice beforehand seemed partly just an effort to win Alex back, and once he (mostly) did, the moment she later upset him, he reverted right back to his old ways and showed his true self that had been hidden underneath the whole time and only needed to be triggered. That seemed like the overwhelmingly obvious interpretation at the time, but I guess the interpretation the writers are nudging us towards is that he was genuinely unselfishly good while sober, not trying to weave Alex back into his web or anything, and then started acting like a monster when he went back to drinking, and the solution is just to not let himself drink so that he can be a great person. It doesn't sit well with me, and that's what spurred me to write my posts of last night asking about what "good person when sober, bad person when drunk" really means.

(Disclaimer to all of this: I remembered halfway through writing this surprisingly long post that the series is based on a novel, and maybe the nuances Sean and Alex's relationship are better written in the novel version.)

[a-typical]

CALIFORNIA JOSHUA TREE

Sometimes you visit corpses all around the world and realize that the corpses dearest to your heart are right in your own backyard. When I returned to Los Angeles, my funeral home awaited—along with my long-suffering funeral director, Amber, who facilitated cremations and comforted distraught families while I was off requesting help with mutual funds from a Bolivian skull.

Undertaking LA had an un-embalmed, natural burial scheduled for Mrs. Shepard. Inspired by what I had seen on my travels, I returned to work with a new sense of purpose. In my mind, the grieving family would prepare the body with love, wrapping the dead woman in a handmade shroud lined with peacock feathers and palm fronds. We’d lead a procession to the grave at dawn, carrying candles and scattering flower petals, chanting as we went.

This burial—well—wasn’t like that.

By the time we got Mrs. Shepard into our body preparation room, she had been dead for six weeks, trapped in a plastic body bag under refrigeration at the L.A. coroner’s office. Amber and I stood on either side of her as we unzipped her bag. Mold had begun to grow under her eyes, and carried down her neck and onto her shoulders. Her stomach was collapsed, colored deep aquamarine (brought on by the decomposition of the red blood cells). The top layers of skin peeled free from her calves. The bag had been swamplike, bathing Mrs. Shepard in her own blood and bodily fluid.

We released her from the plastic prison and washed her body down, soapy water sliding down the steel table and disappearing through a small hole near her feet. Amber washed her hair, originally white but now dyed brown with blood, doing her best to work around the patches of mold growing on her scalp. We labored in silence, something about the decayed state of the body making us less vocal than usual. After patting Mrs. Shepard dry, it was clear that she was not done leaking. If Undertaking LA were a typical mortuary, we’d have all types of tricks up our sleeves (Saran Wrap, diapers, chemical powders, even head-to-toe plastic body suits) to combat the aptly named “leakage.” But a natural cemetery won’t accept a body for burial that has been treated with any of those chemical leakage treatments.

We moved Mrs. Shepard straight into her shroud, hoping to wrap her enough times that she wouldn’t ooze through. Amber had sewn the shroud herself from unbleached cotton fabric. The family had little money, and we were trying to bring down costs everywhere we could. The day before, I had received a text from Amber: a picture of a receipt from JoAnn’s Fabrics with the caption, “Guess who just saved the family 40% on their burial shroud with JoAnn’s points!” The finished product was charming, complete with ties and handles (though no peacock feathers or palm fronds).

— From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death, Caitlin Doughty

[athena-theunicorn]

WIP Sunday

Because school started and idk what day it is and time is a construct anyway and I'm pretty excited about this chapter. It's 8k words and counting.

All scenes are taken out of context and out of order from my fanfic The Memories Between Them, on Ao3 and Wattpad :)

~~~

“I have a question,” he says, his eyes closed. I’ve been reading by candle light a book I just bought.  

“I hope to have an answer,” I say, putting it aside.  

“Did we ever come to this festival?” he asks.  

I sigh. “You went to this festival nearly every year. But we only came together once, the day before the Calamity struck.”  

“Hm,” he says thoughtfully, “so the stories were true after all.”  

“Stories?” I question.  

“Prima told me the first time – well, I guess it wasn’t really the first time, but it was the first that I remember – she told me that there were stories of people that saw you at the festival the day before the Calamity, and that you used a fake name.”  

I smile a little, at the memory, and how simple he made the situation seem. When in reality my mind was racing, and had been for months. The festival was the first time I could truly breathe in a long time, right before hell broke loose. “Yeah,” I said, “all the stories were true. I told people my name was Lillian, just to escape for the day.”  

~~~

“So I guess you two are planning to spend a lot of time here, huh,” Prima says, dunking her rag into the bucket of soapy water.  

I shrug, although she can’t see it. “I suppose we are, in between traveling and such. I’d still like to visit the other leaders and elders and such, and of course I’ll be spending time in Kakariko.”  

“Well, yeah. But you two need a home.”  

The thought sort of rocks me. I hadn’t really thought about that. I hadn’t thought about the fact I didn’t really have a home since I returned.  

“Link still doesn’t think of this place as his home. He’s said it was little more than a glorified storage shed. But maybe since you’re back and his duty is done, he’ll settle down a little. Find a place to rest.”  

~~~

I wake up at dawn. Zelda’s still asleep, her hair awry. It’s adorable, really. I go to make breakfast, but it’s interrupted by banging on the door. It startles me, and Zelda jumps from the bed with a yelp and lands on the floor with a thud.  

“You okay?” I shout.  

“... Yeah,” she replies after a moment.  

I smirk and go to the door. Prima stands there, a picnic basket on her arm. “You’re back!” she shouts, inviting herself inside after a hug. Zelda stumbles downstairs, still in her clothes from yesterday, and the quilt wrapped around her shoulders.  

“Hope you’re hungry,” I sign to her. She smiles, nodding, rubbing sleep from her eyes.  

~~~

Zelda pushed, but to no avail. It was locked. She steps back and regards it carefully. Then she takes a pin from her hair that she did up earlier, and sighed. “I haven’t done this in a long while,” she said, kneeling in front of the lock and pushing the pin inside.  

Prima and I exchange a look and watch Zelda intently, her brow furrowed in concentration as she fiddles with the pin and the lock. Silence falls, letting Zelda listen closely for the click that comes a moment later, followed by her triumphant “Yahaha!”  

I smirk as she stands, and she puts her hands on her hips in satisfaction. “How’d you do that?” I ask.  

She shrugs. “I got pretty good a lock picking back when I tried to hide from your ever-watchful eye.”  

I chuckle a little, and Prima looks between us, smirking.

[celebbun]

4, 12, 25, 38, and 44 for the ask! ♡

4- which cryptid being do you believe in?

Boto cor-de-rosa (pink river dolphin), because those actually exist. Now, do I believe it's swimming around, seducing and impregnating people? I'll leave you to guess.

12- what kind of day is it?

I met a sheltie named Francesca and got free lunch. It was pretty good.

25- perfume/body spray or lotion?

All of them, I'm a fragrant and hydrated person (though I usually find lotions to be far too liquidy, so I go for other types of emulsions).

38- a soap bar that smells good?

Avatim Boníssimo Black soap, though I'm biased because that's my daily perfume's soapy counterpart.

44- you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

I shan't name names, but my basic parasitology professor, or the girl who tried to parasitise my latest paper by having our professor include her as an author (she didn't write shit).

Asks

[svartalfhild]

Svar Watches BBC Robin Hood for the First Time - Season 3

Some of you may have seen my reactions to Season 1 and Season 2, well, here's the epic conclusion:

Well I can tell you right off the bat that the production, especially the costumes, have gotten a major glow-up, holy shit.

Damn we're starting off in a dark place. I mean, I guess I expected that, but even so.

It's been 5 minutes and I already miss Will and Djaq.

Guy is so unhinged now and it hurts my heart, but it's so interesting to watch. Also, the costuming glow-up and Armitage doing his thing means that Guy is now, in some respects, even hotter than before. For this to really get out of hand for me, though, he has to get a good redemption arc. That would just be top👌tier👌shit👌. I have no goddamn clue how that could happen at this point, though. Won't hold my breath.

So now that Marian is fucking dead and Djaq is off having her happily ever after with Will, I'm guessing Tuck is going to be the new voice of reason.

Ohoho Guy going Fuck Everything Actually But Especially The Sheriff And Also My Life with maximum emo is fucking zesty.

I like Kate. Her being a love interest for Much is a bit out of left field, but I could be into it if the narrative does the work to sell it.

Man, the real villain in this show is toxic masculinity.

I love how every time a recurring female character is grieving, Little John is like "hello, I'm your emotional support giant".

Lara Pulver???? Fuck yeah!

Holy shit she's Guy's sister????? And she's Robin's new love interest???? That's a spicy meatball.

Gotta say, Guy, being shitty to your sister is rapidly losing you attractiveness points.

OH MY GOD GUY ACTUALLY GOT TO STAB THE SHERIFF I AM LIVING YES BITCH KILL YOUR ABUSER!!!!

Aw dunk he's still alive. Boo. Well, either way, Guy has fallen out of the hands of one abuser into another, who has even more power.

Toby Stephens as Prince John is brilliant. He's so flighty and detestable. And pathetic in the way that only rich men are. This is reminding me of the tantrums of the bird app destroyer.

So I see from Isabella's behaviour with Robin that getting overly attached to the first person who's nice to them is a Gisborne family trait. Also going all super backstabby survival mode when they get put in a tight spot.

Meg is fucking great and I am so here for the women-supporting-women of her introduction. I want her to be besties with Isabella, even though Isabella is duplicitous af (albeit kinda understandably so).

So, uh, fuck Thornton. It was bad enough hearing from Isabella that he's awful, but now that we get to see him, I am absolutely revolted.

Oh, oh, I love watching Meg call Guy the fuck out for his, well, everything, and he just has to sit there and take it cause they're in prison. Get his ass, girl.

Wait...oh my god...oh my god IS GUY ACTUALLY GONNA HAVE A REDEMPTION ARC???? YOU'RE KIDDING HOLY SHIT POP ALL THE BOTTLES LADS

Aw...aw, Meg. I'm crying with you, Guy. T_T

The way Isabella started this season with "I'm nothing like my brother; there's nothing about him that I want to be" and then she proceeded to become exactly like her brother.

God, the cinematic parallels between Guy and Isabella are so strong and so tragic. Both abused, both prone to thinking in extremes, both trying so desperately to protect themselves and making all the wrong choices. But it's interesting how Isabella is descending into evil the same way Guy did the moment she's given a crumb of power by an evil man, while Guy is trying to be better after hitting rock bottom and getting told what's what by a mouthy peasant girl.

Kate turning out to actually be Robin's love interest is honestly a bit boring, but predictable, I suppose.

Damn, that Backstory™ episode was wild and soapy as fuck but it sure did some heavy lifting with the plot to get Robin and Guy united at last. A fucking half-brother between them named Archer. Jesus christ.

Guy's father being a leper kinda brings new context to the Sheriff derisively calling Marian a leper all of the time. Must have been a real twist in the gut every time Guy heard it.

Robin and Guy going to rescue Archer is giving Thor and Loki "get help" energy and I love it so much. More of this please.

So I see being a tricky little bastard and a romantic is something Archer shares with his siblings.

Oh my god the symbolism of Guy riding a white horse now.

Aw, Allan. T_T So it's a Boromir end for you, huh.

I'm scared to watch the finale because I just know it's going to hurt my heart somehow. Let Guy stab the Sheriff again, please?

GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYYYYYY *INCOHERENT SCREAMING AND CRYING*

"I lived in shame, but because of you, I die proud and free." I WILL NEVER BE OKAY AGAIN!!!!!!!! T_T

Yes, blow everything the fuck up. Die, assholes.

And there goes Robin too. God, I'll just be sobbing for the next several minutes, thanks.

Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed my screaming and crying. I hope you went "ohohoho just you wait girl" every time I saw or didn't see a twist coming.

[justhere4thevibez]

WIP Weekend Challenge

Thanks @bisexualchrissycunningham for the tag - I'm looking forward to this!

in a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

post a snippet from one of them. snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. we’re posting progress here. if you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

after you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. you must then write 3 sentences in that file. if the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

that’s it! you can invite others to join in, or just post. if you tag me in your post, i will send you an ask request!

Current WIPs:

Dzzzz

Mzzzz

Xzzzz

I've worked on 2 out of 3 this week, so here are snippets from them - guess which ones are which stories (they may or may not be what you think they are 😉)!

Dzzzz:

“Eddie,” she said, squirming deliciously against him. “Okay, okay, I give up. I’m not stupid.” “Oh?” he dragged his mouth across her jawline. “What would you call yourself then?” She squinted unhappily at him. “You’re really going to make me say it?” “Make you?” he asked in mock offense. “I’d never.” He traced his tongue along the curve of her ear, pulling a shiver from her. “But I’ve been told I can be quite persuasive.”

Xzzzz:

“Baby?” she called cautiously, and Eddie’s shoulders sank as he sighed. She walked over and gathered up his hair where it hung dangerously close to the bucket of soapy water, securing it with one of the elastic bands around her wrist. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she whispered, bending down to kiss his neck.

Alright, now I tag @slumped-in-the-arms-of-fiction @sloelimbs @lokinightfury @1lostsoul0fishbowl and anyone else who wants to join!

I'm gonna go take a bath and check my asks in a hour or so!

[homenecromancer]

tagged by @fishmech

Tag game - 15 Questions, 15 Mutuals

1. Are you named after anyone?

yeah i guess; my birth name was after a member of my mom’s family, and my name + middle name are family names as well, though i go by a nickname most of the time

2. When was the last time you cried?

i cannot answer this question because i literally mist up at sad commercials etc., i don’t keep track

3. Do you have kids?

nope. i would not be a good parent for many reasons, only some of which are “bad family medical history”. it still feels weird to consider the fact that when my mom was my age, she was married and expecting her first kid... meanwhile, right now, i am playing email tag with the surgeon who is going to perform my hysterectomy

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

with people i’m close to irl, yeah

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

general vibe and body language

6. What’s your eye colour?

green :3

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

depends on what mood i’m in

8. Any special talents?

encyclopedic memory for stupid internet drama. also im ok-to-good at finding things online, but a lot of that is “remembering how to find this thing”

9. Where were you born?

a hospital in the same conglomeration of suburbs i still live in

10. What are your hobbies?

mostly it’s: being online; writing; reading. i enjoy/ed video games, but i have had tendinitis in my right thumb for a couple of years now, and that intermittently makes it hard to hold a mouse. (so now sometimes when i think “i miss playing fallout 4″, the next thought that comes to my brain is “but my hand hurts :(” and then i do not play video games.)

11. Do you have any pets?

nope, never have. i’m allergic to animal dander, as is my dad, so i just... did not grow up with an animal in the house. albeit my allergies have gotten better with age, so i can hang out with other people’s pets

12. What sports do you/have you played?

basketball for like, one season + whatever sports they made us do in school gym. currently i do not play any sports

13. How tall are you?

5′ 3″, or about 1.6m

14. Favorite subject in high school?

i really enjoyed Anatomy & Physiology, though i did not wind up going down the life path i thought i wanted to pursue at that time. Zoology was also fun, as was the part of a demo in chemistry class where: the teacher ran some of the gas for the bunsen burners through a tub of soapy water; i dunked my hand in there; he ignited the suds on my hand; i lost all the hair off that hand

15. Dream job?

doing all the stuff i do at home on my own time, but every two weeks a substantial sum of money appears in my bank account

i am also too lazy to pick fifteen people to tag, so if you see this, go for it :)

[midnight-and-his-melodiverse]

a prompt from "prompts to shake things up"

VII. "I know I'm your doctor and the horns growing in overnight was kind of a surprise but why do you want them removed those are sick as hell."

(Credit for this amazing prompt list goes to @juicywritinghoard!)

It had just hit the onset of evening, when Midnight had to take a trip to the emergency room, accompanied by Staticlight, after Midnight had felt a horrible headache come on.

Staticlight did his best to drive carefully within the maze of traffic that was Penwood City's roads, to get Midnight safely to that location, and soon enough they pulled into Penwood City's hospital parking lot.

Midnight had to lean against Staticlight for support as they sprinted into the emergency department, in which there were many other people waiting, in this sea of bright fluorescent lights, soft couches, and tightly compacted cubicles which occupied a small number of nurses.

He sat down at one of the cubicles, facing a human nurse with blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a green-red striped t-shirt on. She smiled before turning her gaze to her computer, mentally preparing to write notes about his situation.

"What's your name?" She smiled, though of course there was a hint of seriousness within her tone.

Midnight responded back with the same formality.

"My name's Midnight Altera Starleaf."

He could hear the nurse typing from behind the plexiglass that separated them, and very quiet mumblings as she did so.

"Birthday?"

"June 19th, 2006."

More typing.

"Why have you come to the emergency department?"

"Just a few hours ago, a horrible headache, with no cause from what I could remember, started up and left me unable to sleep soundly, so we left to drive here."

There was more typing.

"Have you drank enough and eaten enough today?"

"Yes."

There was a final moment of typing before she clicked a couple times, and under the glass slipped a sky blue bracelet with Midnight's date of birth on it to him, which was tightened onto his wrist.

"Alright, Mr. Midnight, if you and your friend could just sit on one of those couches, that would be great. Someone will come to your assistance in a short while."

Midnight smiled at the nurse. "Alright, thank you!" They left to go sit on a comfy leather couch, and Midnight leaned his head on the armrest to comfort it.

Though of course, this headache had been persistent and was pounding at his skull like a person playing timpani in an orchestra of pain, and he groaned slightly.

Staticlight meanwhile, was fiddling around with a butterfly knife he always seemed to carry around with him.

"Mr. Midnight?" someone called from far away in the room.

Midnight opened up his eyes, and followed Staticlight to accompany the doctor who shortly led them to his office.

He got Midnight to sit in a soft chair. He gazed around the room and amidst the bright white walls, there were posters of which he recognized from certain books being written.

There was the spacecraft of the Titania, from Stars, Bits, and Bytes and a picture of Midnight, Staticlight, Dev, and his pet hellhound Soapie, from the Melody Blade Saga.

"So hello there, Mr. Midnight." the doctor began. "You can call me Dr. Saturn if you so choose, or call me by my first name Emmett if it's more comfortable for you."

Midnight shook his hand. "Nice to meet you Dr. Saturn."

Dr. Saturn had green eyes, purple hair, and a white button-up shirt, over a black shirt that had the text: "Mirrorventure" in a sci-fi like font, and below it, was a picture of four teens staring into the abyssal eye of a strange portal, which had rainbows behind it. Midnight gasped in astonishment when he saw it. "Woah, you have a MIRRORVENTURE SHIRT?" Dr. Saturn chuckled. "Yep. It's my favorite one to wear while thinking about the amazing time I'll have reading it when it's finally completed in the future!"

"So anyway, what brought you here?" Midnight then explained about his horrible headache to him. "Sorry that you're going through that man. But I guess some relieving news is that you're just going through growing pains! And don't worry, I can relate because my son is also a night demon and his horns are just coming in as well." Dr. Saturn smiled. "if you want to come and look in a mirror, you can see your little blue stub of demon horns trying to grow out!" Midnight laughed. He was glad that he wasn't alone in his growing pains. But he really wished for his headache to go away.

He walked to a mirror to see a reflection of his demon horns. "See, isn't that neat, Midnight?" Dr. Saturn called out as Midnight just stared at himself in that mirror for five minutes. They all walked back to Saturn's office. "I know I'm your doctor, and those demon horns growing in overnight may have been a sudden surprise, and I may be breaking formality here, but why would you want those removed when even as stubs, they look sick as hell?" Dr. Saturn smiled. "Here, have some medicine to get rid of the headache, and keep it by you in case it flares up again, because you can expect the headaches to keep happening as your demon horns continue growing in." The sun was just coming up as they left the emergency department and headed back home.