#If any of the local lot turn up; we'll be there but we'll be in-character acting the entire night.

[brbuttons]

We were hired to design a poster for an upcoming Rocky Horror inspired immersion night, and it was such a delight.

Posters can be a challenge (graphic design is not our passion) but getting to research and learn from the old mid-century burlesque & B-movie posters was a treat.

[sturniqlo]

The Move- M.S

summary: y/n and matt, once former classmates, reunite when both of them move down the street from each other and become closer than ever

cw: cursing, mention of underage drinking(main characters are 18!) , SMUT; car sex, unprotected p in v, making out, hickies, oral!f!receiving, cream pie

an: thank you so much for 1000 followers??! HELLO?! i love every. single. one. of. you.💋💋

masterlist | join my taglist

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"I'm moving to Springville in the summer." Y/n tells her best friend. "What? Really?" Her best friend cries. "Yeah, my parents found a really good deal on a house over there. I'm leaving after graduation." She frowns, trying to not let the tears out. Her and Steph have been friends for over thirteen years.

"Hey, don't make me cry." Y/n tries to smile to lighten up the mood. "At least we have a couple of months left together." Springville was about two and a half away from where they currently live. "And- and we can drive back and forth to meet each other!" Y/n wipes her best friends' tears away.

"Okay, okay you're right! No crying! We still have a couple of months." Steph repeats Y/ns' words. "Let's go get milkshakes and fries." Y/n suggests, they love going to their local diner and getting their usual vanilla milkshake and a basket of fries. Ever since they turned eighteen, their parents granted them permission to drive alone and they've been driving everywhere together any chance they could.

"Good idea."

The next day at school, the word spread around their friend group and distant friends that Y/n would be moving in the summer. "Y/n, we're going to miss you!" "Y/n don't go!" "What? Are you serious?!" Were phrases she heard all day. At lunch, she stood up to go to the bathroom and she ran into one of her other friends.

"Hey, Y/n. I heard you're moving to Springville this summer. My friend Matt is also moving over there this summer. You know Matt, right? He's one of the triplets." The girl dried her hands on a paper towel. "Really? And yeah, I know of Matt. He's the one we have third period with?" Y/n makes sure she doesn't mix the triplets up. She's talked to Matt here and there, however she's 'closer' with Nick due to the fact that they have and have had a lot of periods together over the past four years. As for Chris, she's had at least five conversations with him. "Yeah! That's him! You two should hangout when you settle in!" Y/n nods. "Totally!"

When they get out the bathroom, they go their separate ways. Y/n texted her friend group that she wouldn't be returning to lunch due to having to head to the office for some paperwork. Which was a lie, she just wanted a break from socializing so she headed to the library.

It was now summer and it had been a couple of days since Y/n had graduated. Y/n and her parents were packing up their belongings into the moving trucks. "I'll miss you so much! Promise we'll try to hang out as much as we can?" Steph hugs her tightly now that they had finished moving Y/n's boxes into the truck. "I promise, I'll miss you so much too." She rocks them side to side. "Y/n, it's time to go." Her mom comes up, from saying goodbye to Steph's parents, and puts a hand on Y/n's shoulder.

"I'll try to come and visit you within the next few weeks okay?" Steph pulls away from the hug and Y/n nods. "Bye, Steph." "Bye, Y/n." Steph gives one last hug to Y/n before stepping to where her parents are standing. "We'll see you there, Mr.Y/l/n." One of the movers tells Y/n's dad before getting in the truck and backing out of the driveway.

"Y/n, honey, we're leaving in ten." Y/n and her parents have been in their new house for about seven hours now and they were going to head to dinner since they hadn't gone grocery shopping yet. "Coming!" She finishes putting her bedsheets on her bed. Once she finishes, she rummages through the many boxes of clothes and picks out a simple outfit. "I'm ready." She says, coming down the stairs. "You got some stuff done?" Her mom asks, looking through her purse.

Y/n had been working on her room for about an hour because she was helping her parents unpack the living room and kitchen. "A bit, just need to hang my clothes up and fix my vanity." Her dad comes into view. "Garage is all set, let's go eat dinner. I'm starving." He grabs the car keys from his pocket.

"Oh look, another family is moving in." Y/n's dad slows the car down as they drive past the house with many boxes outside. "Maybe we can welcome them." Her mom says from the front seat. "We look like some stalkers just stopped in front of the house." Y/n giggles.

The next week, Y/n had luckily made some friends while she was out shopping. When she had gotten home from hanging out with them for the first time, she got many new friend requests from unknown people. omg! do any of you guys know any of these people? lol Y/n sends a screenshot to the group chat of the thirty new requests. yes accept them!! we went to school with them, the boy group is hosting a party on saturday you HAVE to come with us!!! One of her new friends types back. really? i'm down!! She replies.

Once she accepts and follow the people back, many stories pop up on her feed. Clicking on someone named Easton, a picture of a table full of food pops up, the next one is a quick video and it pans to a group of boys, in the corner she spots Matt. Holding down on the video, she makes sure it's him and suddenly remembers that Matt also moved down to Springville.

"Should I dm him?" She whispers to herself. Going to her following, she searches Matt's name up and clicks on his profile. She goes to click message, but then decides to press the following button to unfollow him. Waiting a couple of seconds, she follows him again, hoping to get a dm from him. As much as she wanted to text him, she didn't want to make the first move.

Y/n turns off her phone and places it face down on her chest, looking up at her light bulbs. Soon, her eyes start to closes but she feels her phone buzz on her chest. She grabs her phone and sees a dm from Matt.

matt.sturniolo

hi y/n :))

y/n/y/l/n

hi matt!!

matt.sturniolo

i heard you moved down to springville a couple of weeks ago

y/n/y/l/n

yeahh i did

i also heard you did too

matt.sturniolo

yeah, i've been here for a couple of weeks now, we should hangout sometime

my friends are throwing a party on saturday i could pick you up if you want?

y/n/y/l/n

oh yeah, my friends told me about that party.

sure, it seven a good time?

matt.sturniolo

alright! send me your address

y/n/y/l/n

it's 123 Vine St

matt.sturniolo

no way?? you're down the street from me. i'm 129

y/n/y/l/n

really?? what a coincidence lmao

They eventually exchanged numbers and texted for the next hour or so. That night, Y/n fell asleep with a smile on her face. Both Y/n and Matt had never really talked throughout high school even though they had mutual friends.

Saturday came fairly quickly. Y/n had started working at a restaurant as a hostess and she had just came back from her shift. "Are you still going to that party?" Her mom says. "Yeah, remember Matt? He's one of the triplets." Her mom nods. "He's picking me up, I found out he lives in that one house we saw when we moved in."

Y/n was now getting ready, she was finishing her makeup up when she got a message from Matt.

matt

hi are you almost ready?

y/n

yeah, just finishing my makeup

i can walk to your house if you want me to

matt

no, it's fine i can pick you up

y/n

alright, thank you :))

Five minutes later, she heard a beep outside her house. "I'll be back later." She tells her mom before exiting the house. "Hi, Matt." She says as she gets in the passenger seat. "Hi, Y/n. You look nice." Y/n blushes. "Thanks, so do you." Now it's Matt's turn to blush. "Your brothers aren't coming?" Y/n asks as she doesn't see the two other guys. "They decided to stay in. They said they aren't ready for their first Springville party, whatever that means." They giggle.

"So, how do you feel about moving down here?" Matt spins the steering wheel to get out of their neighborhood. "It's okay, I miss my friends back home. Especially Steph, you know her?" Matt nods. "She's the one who has purple highlights, right?" Y/n hums. "Yeah that's her. How about you? You like it here?" Y/n asks. "I love it actually, I like how it's a smaller city. My brothers are having a hard time with it though."

Once Matt finds a parking spot. They hop out the car and make their way to the house that's blasting music. "Y/n! Hey!" They both turn around and see Y/n's friends making their way to them. "Hey girls!" The three girls smile at Y/n and then look at Matt who is standing next to her. "Who's this?"

"Oh, this is Matt, we went to high school together!" Matt does a small wave. "Awe, you drove two hours to come see Y/n, how sweet." One girl says. "O-oh I- uh I moved here the same time she did." He chuckles. "Hey, Matt!" They hear a distant voice from behind. Matt turns around and sees his friend calling him over. "I'll see you inside?" Y/n nods. "Yeah!" As Matt walks away, her friends gasp. "Y/n! You didn't tell us you had a boyfriend!" Her face turns red as they continue to walk again.

"Matt's not my boyfriend! We just started talking." She shrugs. "Oh, so you two are talking talking." One smirks. "What?! I don't know? Yes- no! We're not. Just- we're talking as friends." She states. "That's what they all say." Her friends then tell her how bad of a driver their uber was.

"Hey, sorry I haven't been with you." Matt touches her waist to make himself know to her. "It's fine." She turns around and smiles at him. "My friends wanted me to keep track of their beer pong score since I'm probably the only one sober here." He laughs. "That makes two of us." Y/n takes a drink of her water bottle. "Wanna go outside? It's a bit stuffy in here." Y/n nods and Matt grabs her hands and leads her outside.

On the way outside, her friends spot her and give her a thumbs up and she rolls her eyes jokingly. "Holy shit, it's so much better out here." Matt feels the fresh air hit him. "I agree." They both find an empty bench in the backyard and decide to sit there.

"I can't believe we've never hung out during high school." Matt says, looking at her. "I cant believe it either. You're actually really fun to be around and talk to." Y/n nods. "So I was boring in high school is what you're trying to say?" Matt raises an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. "No! Of course not!" She laughs. "I'm kidding, I thought you were pretty intimidating, though." He says. "Really? Why'd you think that?" He shrugs. "You always looked so serious, and you never really talked much."

What seemed like hours of talking, Y/n looked at the time and saw it was almost one in the morning. "You ready to go?" Matt asks. "I think so, you?" He nods. "Come on let's go." Matt stands up and holds his hand out for her. "You don't wanna say bye to your friends?" Matt says and she shakes her head. "They left quickly, one of my friends snuck out her house and she got caught so they left."

"Are you hungry? We can go eat somewhere or do you have to be home?" Y/n shakes her head as Matt leaves the parking spot. "We can go eat somewhere."

Matt gets onto the main street and takes Y/n to a 24/7 diner. "Have you been here before?" He asks as he pulls into the parking lot. "Mm-mm," She shakes her head before speaking again. "I've driven by here, but I've never eaten here." Matt parks and turns off the car. "It's really good, probably one of my favorite places here." Before he gets out the car Y/n asks him a question. "Hey, Matt. Do you happen to have a sweater or something? I don't want to go in wearing this." She motions down to her see through shirt.

"I think I do." He closes the driver door and opens the back door, Y/n gets out the passenger door and meets Matt where he's at. "Here you go." He hands her a plain black hoodie. "Thanks." She grabs it from him and puts it on. "Let's go." He nods his head towards the diner.

"Hi, welcome to Rubys." The hostess greets them, a nice middle aged lady. "Hello, for two, please." Matt speaks next to Y/n. "Of course," She grabs two menus. "Right this way." She signals them to follow her. "Thank you." Y/n says as they sit down and the lady lets them know she'll be back to take their orders. "Are you hungry hungry or hungry?" Y/n giggles and opens up the menu. "I'm hungry. We can share a meal if you want." He smiles at her.

"Chicken tenders and fries?" Y/n raises an eyebrow, smiling. "Sounds good!" When the waitress comes back, they order their shared meal, and order their own milkshakes. "And- sorry, I'm getting a call." Matt is interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket. "What Chris?" He says impatiently, wanting to go back and talk to Y/n. "Where are you?" Chris says. "I'm at Rubys with Y/n." He replies. "Ouu, a date." Matt scoffs at Chris' teasing. "No, stop it." He mutters. "Can you bring me and Nick some food? We'll pay you." Chris asks. "Alright, I have to go, bye." Matt hangs up, already knowing their order. "Sorry, they wanted some food." He laughs. "It's fine." She giggles.

Matt was now dropping off Y/n, parked in front of her fence. "Thank you for tonight, Matt. I had fun." She says, grabbing her purse. "Me too, I'll see you around?" Y/n nods. "Oh! Here, your sweater." As she goes to take it off Matt stops her. "It's okay, you can keep it." He smiles. "You sure?" She says. "Of course."

"Thanks." She leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. "See you around."

It was a week after the party, and both Matt and Y/n have been texting every hour of everyday ever since that night. "So are you two talking or what?" Nick asks his brother. "I guess you could put it that way." He tries his hardest not to blush. "Look at him! He's blushing!" Chris teases, pointing at Matt. "Leave him alone!"

Nighttime came around and Matt was antsy to see her. do you wanna go driving? He types and sends it to her. just me n you. He adds on. i would love to. Matt smile at her text before replying back. pick you up in three ;)

Matt throws on a hoodie and grabs his keys, heading out of his room. "Where are you going at," Nick says from the couch in the living room, looking at his phone. "ten fifty two pm?" He adds. "I'm going on a drive with Y/n."

I'm here. Matt sends Y/n a message instead of beeping, knowing half of the block is probably in bed by now. Going! She quickly replies back. Matt looks at Y/ns' house and sees the front porch light turn on and then the front door opening seconds later with Y/n coming out.

Y/n quickly makes her way to his car. "Hi, Matt." Y/n leans over the center console and kisses his cheek. "Hi, Y/n." He kisses her cheek quickly after. "Wanna go to the convenience store and get some snacks?" He asks, looking over at her before looking back at the road. "Yeah, I could go for some chips right now." She agrees.

After their quick trip to the store Matt finds an empty parking lot and parks the car. As they finished their snack, they washed it down with their drinks. "I-" "So," They say at the same time and they giggle. "You can go." Y/n says. "I- I wanted to tell you that I'm really enjoying our time together." Y/n's mouth opens a bit in shock. "Oh, Matt, I-" Matt can't really read her expression. "Shit! I'm sorry did I ruin it? Fuck, I should've never-" He gets cut off by Y/n smashing her lips against his.

It takes Matt a few seconds to realize what's happening before he moves his lips against hers. The kiss gets heated by the second and before they know it, Y/n is on his lap. Unfortunately, they get interrupted by Y/n's ass pressing up against the horn startling them. "Oh shit!" They say in unison and laugh with their foreheads pressed against one anothers.

Matt rubs his hands over her waist. "Wanna meet me in the back seat?" He presses a wet kiss over her jaw, sucking lightly. "I thought you'd never ask." She leans down and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. She gets off of his lap and crawls into the back seat. Matt steps out the car and opens the back seat dooor climbing in and immediately grabbing Y/n by her waist and pulling her to his lap and kissing her all over again.

"I've been wanting to do this ever since the party." He says in between breathes. "Really?" She smiles against his lips. "Mhm, looked so fucking sexy in your little outfit." He squeezes her ass. Y/n rocks her hips against his, feeling his bulge against her thin shorts that are riding up her thighs.

After minutes of rocking against each other, Matt lays Y/n against the seat and hovers over her, kissing over her neck. "Can I take this off, baby?" He tugs at the end of her oversized tee. "Please." She whines. Matt brings her shirt up and Y/n lifts up a bit so he can remove it. The chilly air makes her nipples harden and Matt groans.

"No bra?" He goes to suck on her nipple, kneading her tit in his other hand. "Fuck, Matt." She gasps, arching her back. "You like that, babe?" He hums, nibbling on the bud. "Yes, fucking love it." She kneads her hand through his hair. Matt pulls away for a second and Y/n could almost whine from the loss of contact. He pulls his hoodie off and throws it in the front seat with Y/n's shirt.

"Can I take these off as well?" Matt's hand comes down to the waistband of her skimpy shorts. "Yes, yes, take them off." She nods, lifting her hips and Matt pulls them down her legs and is met with her white cotton thong. Matt gives her a look and Y/n nods. He hooks a finger through her thong and removes them swiftly. Matt looks down and sees her cunt glistening. "So wet already." He growls at the sight before diving down getting a taste of her.

"Oh, Matt." She sighs in pleasure as he sucks on her clit, slurping her juices. The sounds coming from her are going straight to his cock. "Fuck- get- get up here." Y/n pulls Matt up to her and kisses him harshly. "Please, Matt." She whines against his lips. "What do you want, baby. Hm, I don't know what you want unless you tell me." He kisses down her jaw, to her neck, sucking on the soft skin there leaving red and purple marks. "I want you to fuck me, Matt." She runs her hands down his front and stops when she reaches the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Yeah, want me to stuff you with my cock?" He lowers his sweatpants, along with his boxers, his dick springs up slapping against his lower belly. "Yes, want to be full of your cock." She reaches for his erection and holds him in her hands. Slowing moving her hands up and down. "Fuck, baby." He rolls his hips against her hold. "Wait, wanna cum in you." He stops and brings his dick over her pussy, running the tip up and down, gathering her arousal.

"Ready?" He asks, looking down at her. "Yes, give it to me, Matt." Matt brings his tip to her leaking hole and slowly pushes in. "Oh- fuck!" He groans, feeling the tightness of her pussy wrap around him. "Matt, you feel so good." She moans, feeling him balls deep in her. "Shit! You like being stuffed with my cock don't you, baby." He starts to thrust his hips in and out of her. "Just like that, shit!" Y/n brings her hands up her body and squeezes her tit adding on to the pleasure.

"Holy fuck- keep squeezing me like that." Matt brings two of his fingers to her mouth and makes her suck on them, getting them wet, before taking them out and bringing those fingers down to rub her clit. "Mmph, so so good." She whines scratching her nails down his back. "I'm close, can I cum in you, baby. Cum in this tight little pussy?" He kisses her neck over the marks. "Yes, cum in me. I'm so fucking close." She cries as Matt hits that one spot deep in her.

A couple more thrust in her, Matt stills his movements and cums in her. "I'm cumming, shit baby." He burries his face in her warm neck. "Me too, fuck!" Y/n says heavily, running a hand through Matt's hair at the nape of his neck. "That was- that was amazing." Matt laughs in her neck. "I agree." She giggles.

"Let me clean you up." He untucks his face from her neck and places a kiss on her lips before getting up and slowly pulls his dick out. "Fuck." Matt says lowly as he sees a mix of her and his cum dripping out her hole. Matt spots one of his shirts from the other day draped over the backseat headrest and uses that to clean her up. "Oh!" She hisses. "Sorry, baby." He whispers.

"All done." He throws the shirt on the floor and leans over to get her discarded clothes. "Here you go." He hands them to her. "Thank you." Matt pulls his boxers and sweatpants and grabs his hoodie. "I should take you home then?" Matt grabs her and pulls her onto his lap. "Mhm." She hums before kissing him.

"Get in the front seat."

[kkvqwrites]

Neighborhood Watch

The news had reported some unsolved break-ins. If you thought Simon took it overboard with his protectiveness before, you were in for a shock.

Word count: 2,047

Characters: Fem!Reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish

CW: violence, breaking and entering, SA mentioned/alluded to (not on-screen)

A/N: This is based on a dream I had that I thought was cute (can you tell I watch a lot of Forensic Files and Criminal Minds?). It ended up being WAY longer than I intended, but once I started I just couldn't stop! It's also minimally edited because I was excited to get it out but I'll update this note if I make any changes or clean it up!

As often as Simon was away, you cherished your rituals together while he was home. Perhaps your favorite of these was lazy mornings together after breakfast, your legs over his lap as you sipped your coffee (and he his Earl Grey). Today the news was on in the background, sports highlights and local politics droning on as you chatted. That is, until a specific headline caught his attention.

"Our top story as we start the hour, a robbery and assault was reported in the early hours of the morning. The victim, a 26 year old young woman, is a university student who lives alone in her second story flat. This marks the fourth such attack in as many weeks in the area, prompting police to urge residents to act with caution."

Simon stiffened, eyes darting to you. "You've heard about this?"

You nodded, expression turning serious. "I didn't want to tell you while you were gone, I knew it would only make you worry. But people are nervous about it - overheard a lady at the supermarket saying her neighbor was one of the first victims."

"We'll hear from the police chief shortly, but in the meantime all households are encouraged to keep doors locked and report suspicious activity immediately."

Simon sat forward, placing his tea on the coffee table and holding your legs in place when you moved to slide them off his lap. "Fuckin' hell. Moved us here because it's supposed to be safe, and now this."

"We are safe, Simon. You think anyone's coming to the SAS Lieutenant's house to try anything? They'd be out of their mind."

"Knowing how often the Lieutenant's gone, it's not impossible. You remember everything I taught you?"

"Aye aye," you replied with a mock salute, trying to breathe levity back into the moment. "I know how to shoot and where all the knives are hidden."

"Good girl," he smirked, leaning back into the sofa and resuming rubbing his hand up and down your thigh absentmindedly. Despite the day going on as planned, you had an inkling this wasn't the end of the conversation.

_____________

"Simon, you've lost your mind."

"Ages ago, sweetheart," he replied with a smirk. "But it's non-negotiable. I can't go with you, so MacTavish will be."

In the weeks since Simon had first heard the news report, the attacks hadn't ceased. Quite the opposite, actually; they'd escalated in frequency. More home invasions, but also a jogger on a trail, a waitress walking home after a night shift. All women, all 20-something, all caught by themselves by an opportunistic sicko. There was buzz everywhere in the small town the two of you had settled in, which you knew irked Simon to no end. He had specifically wanted somewhere quiet and safe to put down roots and hopefully raise a family, so it perturbed him greatly that someone so heinous was on the loose.

He kept up with the case as much as possible, cursing creatively under his breath at the inadequacy of the local police department. He also began going everywhere with you, no matter how small the errand. Going to the corner store to buy toilet paper? Not by yourself, you weren't. Walking to work because the weather was lovely? Sure, but so was your 6'4 escort. And you best believe he'd be there at the end of the day to walk you home, too.

It was cute and fun, at first. As much as Simon was away, it was lovely to spend so much time by his side. But after a week or so it became a bit grating. After all, it wasn't like an evil man in a trench coat was going to tie you to the railroad tracks and laugh maniacally, right?

When Simon mentioned he had to spend an afternoon on the nearby base meeting with his superiors and getting his annual physical, you had breathed a sigh of relief - finally an afternoon to yourself! At least, so you thought, until Sergeant "Soap" MacTavish showed up on your doorstep.

You liked Johnny, really you did. The few times you'd interacted with Simon's squadmates, you'd gotten on well with all of them, and had found Soap's humor and incessant need to annoy Simon to be endlessly amusing. But that was very different than this.

"I don't need a babysitter, Simon," you hissed, trying to keep your volume down so Soap wouldn't overhear in the next room. You had dragged Simon aside in a desperate attempt to talk some sense into him before he left.

"Of course not, love," his voice dropped the humor it had held moments ago. "It's not babysitting. It's protection. I will not send you out there with that monster running around without someone to watch your six. I can't do it."

You squeezed your eyes shut, dredging up all the patience you could muster. Simon's protectiveness was overkill, but you understood it came from a vulnerable place. "Fine, this once. But we need to talk about this. I can't live like this."

Simon kissed your forehead. "Alright love, we'll talk about it. But please stay with Johnny while you're out today. When we're home later we'll order from that place you like."

Never one to turn down Korean barbecue, you pulled him in for a real kiss before turning him loose. "Take your jacket, it'll get cold later. I love you!" you called after him.

"I love you too," he echoed as he gathered his things in the foyer. He turned, finally acknowledging the man standing there with a stern nod. "Johnny."

"LT," the man grinned back. "It's nice to see you so domesticated."

"Shut up Soap," Simon snapped, shrugging into his jacket. "You go where she goes today. And bloody hell, make yourself useful while you're at it." The Sergeant smirked and saluted before giving Simon a playful punch in the shoulder. "Sir yes sir!"

After your husband was out the door, Soap turned to where you stood with your arms crossed. "Where to first, lass?"

_____________

It turned out, Soap wasn't bad company. First up was the hardware store, where you picked out a paint color for the spare bedroom you'd been meaning to redecorate. Your companion gamely offered his opinion when asked and waited patiently while you compared Fresh Artichoke and Misty Moor with a fraught expression. Without being asked, he carried the paint cans to the car. "LT would skin me alive if he found out I had you doing the heavy lifting," he joked.

Next was the pharmacy, picking up some prescriptions as well as makeup remover and tampons. You sheepishly tried to avoid eye contact while placing the box into your basket, but the sergeant just shrugged. "Seen my fair share of blood." The two of you shared a giggle and moved on.

Finally, you stopped at a boutique to buy a birthday present for a cousin. You knew this would bore Simon to tears, though he wouldn't complain, and you had wanted to save it for an afternoon where he wasn't with you to spare him the tedium. Unfortunately for the poor sergeant, you had run out of weekends to complete the task. Like the rest of your errands, however, he dutifully kept his mouth shut while you weighed the options before deciding on a nice cashmere scarf and some pretty earrings. Once again, he wordlessly took the parcel to carry it to the car for you.

"You know, I could get spoiled having a doorman follow me around," you joked as the two of you settled in the car to make your way home.

"From how the LT acts around you, I'd wager you're pretty spoiled as it is." It was said with humor, but Soap's voice turned warm as he continued. "He's head over heels for you, you know."

You sighed, fighting a beaming smile at the observation. "I know. It's why he has you guarding me like I'm the Prime Minister. I am sorry, by the way. I tried to talk him out of it."

"No need," Soap waved the statement away, looking out the window at Main Street passing by. "He told me what the situation was, and I don't blame him for worrying. Sick bastard running around. He frets enough as it is when he has to be away, but on this I can say he's dead right." You grimaced at the admission; you were as worried as the next person that they hadn't caught the culprit yet, but you had found some comfort in the idea that Simon was blowing it out of proportion. Not wanting to stay on such a negative topic, you made small talk the rest of the ride home, asking Johnny about his family in Scotland and him asking you about yours in America. His boisterous sense of humor was refreshing after Simon's lovable but dry deadpan jokes, and the two of you fell into easy camaraderie.

It had gotten dark while you were out, and your street was off the beaten path and thus minimally lit. You usually appreciated the lack of noise and light pollution, but recent events made it a bit off-putting. Thankfully, you had a six foot special forces escort with you, though you'd rather die than admit to Simon that it helped ease your mind.

As you pulled up to the house, your heart stopped as your headlights caught movement in the front window. Is that Simon? Why is he inside with no lights on? Maybe it's the wind blowing the curtain. But it's cold - I wouldn't have left the window open. Your thoughts continued to come up with rationalizations as you put the car in park. You thought of mentioning it to Soap, but didn't want to sound hysterical. It was just the news reports and Simon's paranoia getting to you; you repeated it like a mantra as you steeled yourself to open the car door.

"Don't," Soap's voice was quiet but firm, a far cry from his infectious laughter at the bawdy joke he had been telling just moments before. "Don't move. Stay in the car." His face had gone stone cold serious, like a switch had been flipped. Turns out he hadn't missed the movement either.

"Johnny, I'm sure it's - " but you were cut off by a commotion from inside. Faster than you would've thought possible, Soap was out of the car and halfway to the front steps before a running form slammed into him as they were coming around the side of the house. The two fell to the ground, but the sergeant quickly regrouped and moved to pin the stranger to the ground with a knee to their back. There was a brief tussle, but Soap's military training made easy work of subduing whoever this was.

"Get off me you asshole!" a man's voice barked. "He's right behind me!"

"Good work, sergeant." You wheeled at your husband's voice, finding Simon stepping out of the shadows from the direction the man was running from. You had hopped out of the car at some point, but were standing there uselessly watching Soap manhandle the stranger.

"Simon! What are you doing here?! What's happening?" Your voice sounded shrill even to your own ears, your heart in your throat.

Your husband moved to where his body was between you and where Soap was kneeling on the other man's back. As he came into the light of your headlights, you saw he was donning his infamous skull balaclava. "Got here not long ago myself. Found this individual inside, waiting to surprise you. Decided to give him a surprise of my own."

"Good thinking, LT." Soap smirked from where he knelt on the man's back. He pulled the hood away from the intruder's face, which was already bloodied. When he saw Simon staring down at him, he began to squirm to try to get away, eyes widening in fear.

"Go inside and call the police, love," Simon said gently over his shoulder. "Tell them we've got someone they're looking for." You took in the scene for a few more seconds before obeying. As your shaking hand fought to get your key in the door, you overheard Simon speak quietly to the man, "And my friend, for your sake I hope they get here quickly."

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 4

Author's Note: Hello, again! I still can't get this story out of my head. I'm introducing a new element to it in this chapter, which we'll all get more acquainted with in the next one, but I'm adding an image at the end of this one, to give you all an idea of what it'll look like.

Description: After realizing that Oberyn hasn't been honest with you, life back home has becomes anxious, filled with questions that you fear may never be answered. But you still have to try and find some normality, and this year's Thanksgiving Ball seems like a good place to start.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, eventual romance, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, lots of angst in this one, overprotective coworker, slightly jealous Oberyn. Word Count: 6030 Author's Masterlist

   You’re back at work already the next day. Halloween has come and gone, which means it’s time to prepare for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and since you’re one of only four employees at the local holiday specials store, you’re sorely needed. September through December are the busiest months for this type of store, so every day you’re not all working is a minor disaster.    But if you’re honest, it isn’t your loyalty to the job that’s responsible for your quick return or the extra hours you’re putting in.

   It’s simply because the job is the only thing that takes your mind off him.

   When you’re home, he’s all you can think about. You hear his voice as clearly as if he’s standing in the room with you, asking questions about your life and then letting you prattle on for hours. Something you had attributed to his kind nature and polite manners.    Now though, it seems more like he was trying to learn as much about you as he could, for reasons you don’t dare to even imagine.

   He’d asked you about trivial things, like what book you’d last read or if you prefer to stack your firewood bark side up or down, which you still can’t see the harm in having told him. But he’d also asked you about your work, your people, your interests and how you spend your days, the answers to which must’ve allowed someone of his age and accumulated knowledge of people, to fully grasp your personality and character.

   So, why is that making you have a mild panic attack every time you think about it?    Because you have no idea what he might do with that knowledge. Maybe he was just curious. Maybe it makes no difference at all what you’ve told him. It is possible that he really was just happy for the company.    It’s the “what if” that plagues you.

   Because if he does decide to use his knowledge against you, the odds will be entirely in his favor, since you know nothing about him in comparison.    You want to believe that you wouldn’t have fallen for him (and you did fall for him) if he is indeed the monster that tried to kill you. But in truth, there’s no way that you could know that with any certainty.    Just like there’s nothing you can do to protect yourself from him, either way.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   The hours are endless and deafeningly silent in the days after your departure.    He has never been one to wander, to have that restless tremor within, pulling one to their feet and refusing to let them remain still. But he does now.    The stone will quickly turn polished with all his wandering, should the feeling not subside soon enough, which it gives no indication that it will.

   So, he wanders. Through each of the nine wings and up into each of the nine towers, yours being the tallest, and the only one he lingers in. The only place that now offers him peacefulness.    He is aware that he still calls it yours, even though your stay was brief, and you will never again reside there. But it holds so much of your scent still.

   He sits there for hours sometimes, forgetting time all together as he drinks in your skin, hair, the faint lavender scent of your own sheets which you brought with you to this bed. He wonders how long it will take before he will no longer recall the softness of your lips. He thinks of them often, in the hopes that the memory might remain fresh to his senses for a little longer.

   But after only one week, his resolve is already faltering. He dreams of you. Wakes up screaming and drenched in sweat at the memory of his teeth embedded in your soft and tender flesh.    And other times, when the dream has been wonderful… he wakes up erect, longing so desperately for the mere touch of your skin against his own, that he cannot refrain from pleasuring himself to the very thought.

   This does not shame him, though. He is much too old to concern himself with the public perception of what is considered right or wrong among the many varieties of carnal pleasures.    The modern world would likely frown at his history of dalliances, as he has always been a man of omnivorous taste. He has never coveted children, but gender has never been an obstacle to pleasure, in his eyes.

   He has found that women offer a comfort and an emotional closeness that the males with which he has explored enjoyment in the past, have not given as freely. But this was long ago. The world has changed much since then, and gender appears to have become less rigid of late, which Oberyn finds most agreeable.    Still, it’s in a woman’s embrace he has most often felt at home and wanted, beyond that of the carnal.

   And then there is you.    His Valya, though his only by name, not commitment. The first person ever to command such control over his mind and senses. He feels almost enslaved by your very being, as though your mere existence demands his servitude.    And surprisingly, he has no objections to this.

   A terrible fatigue and weariness with the centuries upon centuries of managing himself, always fearful that a moment’s loss of control will result in carnage, has taken root within his being, and will not be untethered.    It festers there, making him increasingly agitated, whilst also draining him of all desire and every grain of levity that he had once possessed.

   But in your company, all this turns pale, irrelevant and silenced. You have freed his heart and brought light back to his soul, and now that he has felt it once more, he cannot stand the loss.    The slow, but still so noticeable, reversion to that caged and lonesome man who spends every waking moment fearing the dragon more than any man who might encounter him.

   Still, you are not as a drug to him. He does not crave you the way a drinker craves the bottle, enslaved by the need to consume, dull, and forget. Instead, he feels only brightened, strengthened and awakened by you.    In your presence, Oberyn comes alive, for the first time in ages feeling stronger than the beast, and therefor less controlled by it.

   Every waking moment, his mind looks for ways to relate to you. Everything he sees, smells, touches, it all somehow becomes about you, because that is how dearly he misses you.    And it’s getting worse.    Each day, he battles with himself over whether he has just cause to seek you out once again, and every day, pushing the victory to your favor becomes that much harder.

   He knows that he will eventually fail, because even if he flew to the other side of the world, there would be nothing to stop him from returning. Your house, work and people are known to him, so the day that he eventually fails to convince himself that you are always safer away from him, he will have no trouble finding you.

   It was you that kissed him. He did not ask you to. And that is the carrot which forever dangles before his lips, sweetening his thoughts with the notion that you might do so again, if given a chance.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   It takes three weeks before you begin to be able to walk around outside your own house after dark, without fighting panic at the sight of every deep dark shadow, expecting to see golden eyes glowing as they stalk you.    The fear is still there, but with every day that passes without any sighting of the serpent, you’re starting to become less controlled by it.

   You tell yourself that he wouldn’t have let you go just to come after you again, that would’ve been pointless.    But you also wonder if the woman who’d owned this house before you, and who’d vanished without a trace one day over eight years ago, had really wandered off and gotten lost like people think, or if she too could’ve encountered your captor.

   All in all, over the past fifty years, the Seven Hills have claimed nearly thirty lives, half of which have been accidents when people have underestimated the danger of some of the trails, falling to their deaths over cliff-edges, or simply getting lost.    But the other half are unaccounted for. People who just vanished out there. Assumed to have fallen into crevasses or perhaps been buried under mudslides. Natural events.

   If Oberyn hadn’t brought you back, you would’ve become part of that statistic. Which is a frightening thought.    It’s all frightening. Just the reality that dragons aren’t a myth is enough to make you shiver in your bed when you’re trying to sleep, which you haven’t been able to do much of recently.    Fortunately, the holidays are tightly packed at this time of year, so you have no problems staying busy.

   The city council made a brilliant move around a decade ago, with the decision to create a separate account for all profits earned by tourism. The Seven Hills isn’t a city which depends financially on tourism, so it didn’t affect the overall economy. And the brilliance of this move, lay in what that money has since been earmarked for.    Which is celebrations.

   Holidays, anniversaries, and other significant events are all celebrated with parades, formal balls or just big parties, all at the expense of that one account.    The idea had come from a police officer, who had been concerned about a steady incline of violent crimes, and her hope had been that people who have fun together might be less likely to harm one another. Which had happily turned out to be correct.

   So, when you wake up on Thanksgiving morning, having managed to scrape together a handful hours of decent sleep, it isn’t a family dinner you’re planning on going to.    Not that you have any family to celebrate with, even if you’d wanted to. You were an angel baby, left at the front steps of the local church when you were just days old.    The woman who’d ended up raising you had been lovely, and your relationship with her had been good, right up until she’d died shortly after you’d turned sixteen.

   After that, the city had become your family, albeit a distant one. You like your coworkers and you do hang out with them outside of work now and then, but you’re not close. You don’t talk to them about personal stuff.    Perhaps because you’d started your life being abandoned, that’s what you’ve come to expect from everyone, so you shield yourself from caring too much. From letting people in.

   Which is why Oberyn’s betrayal hit you so hard. Because you did let him in. Against the wisdom of all your experience and even the fact that you had literally no reason at all to trust him, you’d told him everything that you never tell anyone.    In just a few days, he’d somehow managed to make you feel safer with him than with any other person you’ve ever met, and he’d done that despite knowing that he was the one who’d almost killed you.

   “Stop it…” you tell yourself, closing your eyes for a moment over your morning tea, because you’d promised yourself that you’re not gonna let him ruin this day.

   Not Thanksgiving. Not the one day of the year specifically dedicated to remembering and celebrating the positives.    This year, the city’s celebration is gonna be a ball at the old courthouse. It’s the fanciest building in town, made of stone and actually resembling a castle more than anything you’d normally associate with legal matters.

   It was commissioned in the late 1800’s by a wealthy lord who wanted criminals to know just how far removed from greatness they were, so he had every piece of metal within the courthouse coated with gold and silver, and every chair was made for comfort and splendor. Except the one offered to the accused, which was just the simplest and cheapest wooden chair that could be made.

   Because of the small fortune of precious metals, the house was prone to burglary and vandalism, so over time, its splendor lessened and by the time they stopped using it, some fifty years later, it was far from the opulence of its original state.    But around thirty years ago, the city decided that since it’s a historic building, it should be preserved, and spent two years and a lot of money on restoring it. And while the metals are fake these days, it still looks every bit as pretentious as it was always meant to.    It’s a perfect venue for any kind of party, though. And especially a ball.

   You’ve had a dress picked out and ready since before Halloween, but because you’re also part of the crew for this event, you won’t be putting it on until you’re already there. It’s packed and ready, along with some makeup and hair styling stuff, all of which you’ll need to remember to bring so that you can get changed once your work is done.    All the staff from the shop try to help out for these kinds of events because you’re the town’s experts on decorations, and you all enjoy getting to apply your skills on a bigger scale now and then.

   The party starts at 4 pm, with the mayor of the city giving his annual thankfulness speech, which is never as dull as it sounds, because the mayor is a former standup comedian, of all things. And although he’s pushing seventy now, he still knows how to work a crowd and get a good mood going.    After that, the dance begins. It’s a blend of classics like foxtrot and waltz, as well as line dance and even hip-hop, but the first one is always a traditional square dance.

   Everyone who lives here knows that one, because if you chose not to participate in the first dance, hardly anyone will talk to you for the rest of the evening because they’ll assume that you’re a person who just hates fun.    You know that because you made that mistake as a teenager.    After the dance, when everyone’s gotten their appetite going, the Thanksgiving dinner is served, and then the program ends and people can just hang around or go home.

   You arrive at the courthouse shortly before 9 am, after tending to Casper and triple checking that you remembered everything, finding two of your colleagues already there.

   “Hey, Boo,” Simon calls to you as you walk in with your bags.

   It’s a nickname you’ve earned over time, by managing to individually scare every one of your coworkers into falling to the floor, just by saying “boo”.

   “Hey, Si. How are we doing?” you answer, dropping your stuff in a corner and then looking over the boxes of decorations.

   “We brought all the labelled boxes, and Kelli remembered the glitter cannons.”

   “What about the balloons?”

   “Oh, yeah, Micah’s already working on those,” he says, and gestures casually towards an unspecified area of the building.

   “Great, then I’ll get started on the leaves and garlands. Unless you want help with the tables?” you ask, looking out over the large open space that had once been the waiting hall and grand foyer.

   It had been made to look like something out of the roman empire, with giant marble pillars recessed into the walls, serving no purpose other than to add to the grandeur of the room.    The hall cuts through the entire length of the building, perhaps a hundred yards long, and easily thirty yards wide, with a curved ceiling around fifteen feet off the floor at the center, and five big crystal chandeliers dangling from up there.

   It’s full of tables today, but the size of the room makes them look like something from a dollhouse.    In contrast, the empty courtroom which will serve as the dancehall, looks smaller than it is.

   “Nah, I’m good. You get going on that, I’ll let you know if I need your help,” Simon replies, so you smile and nod, before grabbing a box and setting off to the right where the big double doors to the courtroom stand open.

   It’s fun work, getting to decorate a place like this, and while all four of you initially work separately, soon enough, you’re all helping Simon in the foyer, because the tables always take longest and requires the most precision.

   “You know, you really didn’t need to bring your makeup, Boo,” Kelli says when you’re working side by side on the finishing touches of the table decorations.

   “What do you mean?” you ask her, but you have an idea of where she’s going with this.

   “Look, I don’t know where you went, but if it’s true that you were just lost in the woods, then you must’ve found the fountain of youth or something.”

   She doesn’t sound envious or even annoyed, just disappointed, and you want to retort so badly. To rebel against the notion that you’ve lied about getting lost in the woods just to cover up a trip to some fucking beauty clinic, or whatever.    But you can’t, because you can’t explain the change in your appearance.

   “Oh, I found something…” you say between tight jaws, unable to hold back your frustration at the mere thought of the slithering serpent.

   She can tell from your tone that asking any further questions isn’t gonna end well, so she changes the topic, instead getting back to the evening and how excited she is.    But when the time comes for the four of you to get ready, you find yourself standing there in your dress, staring in the mirror at the face that isn’t yours, and yet, is somehow also the perfect you.

   Not perfectly symmetrical or flawless in that kinda way, but just… perfect in a sense of natural beauty, perhaps.    Kelli’s right, putting makeup on is basically redundant, since there’s nothing really to improve. And if you’d had a choice in the matter, it might not have felt so artificial. But it does. It feels anything but natural.

   “Not today,” you remind yourself, meeting your own eyes in the reflection. “You can wallow as much as you want tomorrow, but today, you’re thankful to be alive and to have all the comforts you need.    And for Casper, your white knight. Even though he ran away.”

   When you walk back out into the grand hall, you’re met by the sight of people pouring in through the massive, double oak doors, in a slow and happily chatting procession. They’re allowed to sit at the tables if they want to, even though dinner isn’t for several hours yet, since there are only a few stone benches available throughout the building for anyone needing to rest their legs.

   Everyone knows who you are, so as you make your way through the crowd, you’re met with greetings and polite nods, but also a lot of slightly stunned and gaping faces as they look you over. You try to ignore it and just focus on finding your colleagues, but soon enough, you’re hearing people whispering about you as you pass them.    And suddenly you’re regretting picking such a glamorous dress.

   It’s golden in color, which you’d picked because of how perfectly it compliments your skin tone, but which now makes it feel flamboyant and excessive.    But it’s also the simplicity of it that drew you to it. There aren’t any garnishes, it’s just a softly flowing fabric that hugs your form in a very gentle and comfortable way. Not too tight anywhere, not restricting your movements at all, since the skirt is designed to make it look like liquid gold in motion.

   By the time you reach Simon, standing at the door to welcome people, you’re regretting having come here at all today.

   “Hey… are you alright?” he asks when he sees you, and while you notice that he too roams over your form with wide eyes, unlike everyone else, he doesn’t comment on it, and his gaze returns to your face with a concerned wrinkle between his brows.

   “Everyone looks at me like I’m a freak,” you whisper, dropping your head forwards to not have to see anyone’s scrutiny anymore.

   Ordinarily, you wouldn’t be particularly concerned about people’s opinion of you, and again, if this change had been your choice, you could’ve held your head high and ignored them.    But since it wasn’t, you’re left feeling unfairly judged, and knowing that you’re also incapable of defending yourself on this matter just makes it that much worse.

   Instead of trying to comfort you by telling you that there’s nothing wrong with you, Simon turns away from the crowd and gives you a long and firm hug. Because that’s the kind of person he is. He suffers from terrible anxiety himself, something he’s learned to live with and knows how to manage for himself, but which also makes him really good at understanding that words can be powerless against feelings sometimes.

   You thank him before he lets you go, because he’s already made you feel better, and he just smiles in return before getting back to work. You stay there next to him, letting his calm and positive energy infect you while you try to avoid looking at any one person for too long as you help him welcome them to the celebration.    The mayor is the only one who stops to shake your hands and thank you for your work, before he steps inside and prepares to deliver his speech.

   As always, he executes it with practiced ease and has the crowd in tears of laughter before the end, even though he’s managed to fit in serious things like being thankful for the continued decline in crime rates, or how well the city has recovered after a local factory had burned down six months ago.    He finishes by encouraging everyone to step over to the courtroom for the dance, and everyone does.

   The wonderful thing about dancing is that no one cares all that much what anyone else is wearing or how they look, as they move across the floor together. It’s just about having fun and letting the rhythm take you.    Still, once the square dance is done, Simon kindly comes to your rescue when no one on the floor offers to pair up with you for the next dance, which is a foxtrot.

   He’s not the best dancer in the room, but again, none of that matters as the point is to let go of expectations and enjoy yourselves free of judgement.    He doesn’t step away when the song ends and you’ve taken your bows, preparing to lead you on for the next one as well, but just as you take your positions, there’s a voice to your right.

   “May I cut in?”

   You stop breathing at the mere sound of it. The voice that’s haunted your thoughts and dreams for weeks now, the voice that heats your blood and sends shivers along your skin.

   “Uh… sure,” you hear Simon hesitantly agree, since you’re not objecting, and then step away.

   Still not breathing, you look up as the much taller Oberyn takes his place, confidently taking your waist and then your hand, sending sparks through you with his mere touch.    He looks exactly the same, donning his customary green coat and black trousers, as suitable at a black-tie event as they’d seemed in the dark and mysterious castle.

   The coat is one of those stand-up collar ones, with around fifteen silk buttons leading from his Adam’s apple down to his waist, where the weight of the fabric holds the two sides close together down to just below his knees.    And the sleeves stop over the base of his hands, not at the wrist, so whatever he might be wearing underneath, no one can see it.

   The only other time you’ve been this close to him (aside from the kiss) was when he’d carried you inside that first day, and you hadn’t been paying this close attention to him then.    But you are now. Because you wholeheartedly suspect him of being a monster underneath those clothes.    Still, not one bone in your body is telling you to run.

   “Breathe, Kaivalya,” he whispers close to your ear, and your body responds as if it had been a command, desperately filling your lungs until you start to feel dizzy.

   “You… you shouldn’t be here,” you whisper back, just as the dance begins and he starts to waltz you around the room as elegantly as if he’d been a professional dancer.

   “No, I really shouldn’t,” he agrees, and then pauses before adding: “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

   The air flowing over his skin as he moves sends his natural fragrance straight into your nostrils, and it makes your knees weaken, stoking the heat that already simmers somewhere in your gut, clouding your thoughts with desire.    But it’s that feeling that gives you the strength to push away from him.    It scares you. The hypnotic way that you react to him. And that fear is enough to give you back your senses.

   You step back, almost colliding with another dancing pair, and when he lets go of you, you turn and start to make your way to the exit.    The air suddenly feels thick and hard to inhale, strangling you as you try to free yourself of the crowd, the music, and the strange sensation of your brain being caged by your own senses.

   Reaching the brisk winter air outside of the main entrance, you stop, holding on to a lamppost at the top of the stairs not to fall over with how dizzy you feel.    A hand comes to rest on your shoulder, but it isn’t Oberyn’s. Simon has noticed what’s happened and followed you outside. He’s a good guy, and you can imagine how that scene in there must’ve looked to him. But you would’ve preferred it if he’d left you alone this time.

   “Who is that guy, Boo? You want me to get rid of him?” he asks, but before you can answer, you feel him twitch and pull away from you.

   “You could not remove me however hard you tried, boy,” Oberyn says, and you can hear a dark tinge to his voice now.

   But it’s not arrogance. It sounds more like… jealousy.

   “That’s not up to me. If my friend doesn’t want you here, then you’re not staying, and I’ve got plenty of people here that’ll back me up if I ask them,” Si persists, entirely undeterred by the other man’s superiority.

   There’s a slightly possessive edge to the way he says “my friend” which would ordinarily have made you feel appreciative of his protectiveness, because you’re not actually that close. But today, it makes you feel like a toy being fought over, and you don’t like it.    You straighten up, having finally gotten yourself under control, just in time to see the serpent step closer to your colleague.

   “That’s enough, both of you!” you call out to get their attention. “Simon, go back inside.”

   “Boo-…” he begins to protest, but you cut him off.

   “I just needed some air, I’m fine. Please, just go so that we can talk.”

   He hesitates, throwing a suspicious glance at the other man, but then does what you’ve asked. Because in the end, he knows that you’d never agree to be alone with someone that you fear might hurt you.    But the things is, you do fear that Oberyn might hurt you. You just also need answers, badly enough that you’re prepared to demand them now that he’s here and can answer you.

   “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” you admit once the two of you are alone. “But I’m pretty sure that we have very different reasons why.”

   He remains at a respectful distance now that you’re not dancing, and you notice that the heat from before is starting to fade, leaving you exposed to the winter chill.    You cross your arms over your waist to keep them warm. There are no sleeves on your dress, so the slight breeze is already threatening to make you shiver.    Why is it that whenever you’re around this man, you’re either too hot or too damned cold?

   “What are your reasons, my lady?” he asks, and his voice is soft now.

   Not inviting or seductively soft, but more like it’s been subdued by worry and trepidation.

   “I need to know… what you are,” you say quietly, watching his face without blinking for fear that you might miss some revealing detail.

   But his features remain unchanged, and no answer seems to come to his lips, so you step closer while trying to fortify yourself against something, but you’re not even sure what.

   “Are you the one that bit me?” you ask, damned near choking on the last two words, but still, he remains statuesque before you, driving your fear into frustration. “Damned it, you owe me answers, Oberyn! Tell me the truth…… Are you the serpent?”

   For what seems like one endless moment, he merely stares back at you. But then, ever so slowly, a terrible sadness begins to flood his eyes.    He bows his head and closes them, perhaps trying to stop the feeling, but it just spreads. Spilling into his brows and forehead, and then down to his cheeks and mouth.    It’s subtle, and yet so distinct. So unmistakably sorrowful, as if drawn from the sky and the deepest recesses of the earth, filling every cell of his being with a pain unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

   “I will not ask your forgiveness… I could never earn such a thing,” he says, speaking so quietly now that you have to step even closer just to hear him. “I ask only that you believe me when I say that I never wanted to hurt you.”

   He opens his eyes again, and when he finds you standing closer, he backs away and shifts his hands behind his back, as if trying to keep them from reaching for you.

   “I saw you running, and I tried to distract myself by going after Casper, but it was too late. I had already caught your scent,” he explains, and you’re mildly impressed that he isn’t making excuses or trying to convince you that he’s worthy of redemption.

   “And if I were to run away now?” you wonder, trying to understand how the man and the beast are connected.

   “I would let you,” he replies quickly, clearly eager to make you feel as safe as you can around him. “In my human form, my human instincts are in control. You are never in danger from… me.”

   “But if you were to become that thing right now…?” you press on, still far from convinced of your own safety.

   He thinks on that for a moment, and there seems to be something uncertain to his conclusion.

   “The real reason why I sedated you for the journey home, was because I needed to fly you back,” he begins, and you can’t stop the sharp gasp and the two steps that you stumble backwards, away from him, as you hear that. “But even the beast is enchanted with you now, Valya.    I want only to protect you, no matter what form I might take,” he finishes, unable to keep himself from coming closer and extending a hand to you.

   “No, you stay away from me,” you warn, stepping back further.

   He stops cold, and the sorrow in his eyes transforms into something you can only describe as the purest pain imaginable. It cuts and tears at your heart, because even though he did hurt and lie to you, he doesn’t deserve to suffer this severely for it.    But however much you might want to ease his pain, you don’t know how, because you can’t reconcile with what he’s done to you.

   “As you wish, my lady,” he says, and his voice breaks at each word.

   He straightens himself, and then bows fully, dropping his entire torso halfway forwards in a perfect display of submission. And when he rises again, tears have filled his eyes to the brim.

   “Always…” he adds in a barely audible whisper, and then he turns and starts to walk down the front steps of the courthouse.

   The air cools significantly as he departs, and you wonder if that’s just your senses tricking you, or if he really does warm his surroundings by his presence alone.    Then, just as he reaches the ground, a faint glow appears in the sky, maybe a hundred feet to his left, and seems to swoop down over him.    He sees it, and stops walking to follow its journey with his gaze, as it makes an elegant turn which changes its direction towards you.

   And when it does, you can see that it’s an owl. But not like any you’ve ever seen before. It’s almost transparent, and when it flaps its wings, they seem to leave entire galaxies of stars behind them, fading as quickly as they appear.    It flies straight at you, landing on top of the half-pillar that makes up the corner of the stone railing to the staircase, where it folds its wings back and just stares at you.

   Mesmerized by its large blue eyes, you stare back, feeling as though an infinite mass of knowledge lies within this creature, and that it uses this knowledge to judge you.    It’s about the size of the golden eagle named Marahute in that Disney movie with the mouse rescuers, but the fact that you can almost see through it makes it slightly less imposing.

   If it is judging you in some way, it can’t be too damning a conclusion because you feel no discomfort from the being. In fact, for the entire time it stares at you, you feel nothing at all.    Then suddenly, it opens its wings and takes off with one large leap, fading into nothingness within just one little second.

   “Wow…” you breathe, having completely forgotten your worries for a moment.

   “You saw it?” Oberyn asks from his spot on the ground at the bottom of the stairs.

   “Yeah, it was amazing. What is it?” you wonder, taking your eyes from the sky and back to him, finding him looking extremely puzzled.

   “She is the Sky-spirit: Caelum. But…… humans cannot see her.”

   You stare into his eyes while his words reach you, and the implication behind them slowly sinks in.    The temporary reprieve of your emotional turmoil is wrung from you with ruthless force, and this time, it’s your eyes that are suddenly brimming with tears, your frame that’s brutally tortured by the inescapable truth.

   “What did you do to me…?” you accuse, glaring at him now because all you have left to turn to is anger. “What am I? What did you turn me into?”

   But as horrible as you feel, as much as these thoughts are plaguing you, your feelings still somehow pale compared to the enormity of his.    The knowledge that he’s robbed you of your own reality, seemingly without him even knowing how or understanding why, is mercilessly demolishing him from the inside.

   “I don’t know…” he confesses. “I am so deeply sorry, my dear… I have no answers.”

   Your tears fall as the cold finally creeps into your blood and makes you shiver. Hugging yourself, trying to come to terms with the thought that you don’t know who you are anymore, you feel so lost.    But then the air around you is warmed up once again, and you look up to find Oberyn before you. He takes you in his arms and hugs you close, flooding your body with that same heat as before, even now when you’re in too much distress to feel anything good.

   “But I will not stop until I have found them,” he promises, then he kisses your temple, pulls away, and with a gust of wind, he’s suddenly just gone.

Part 5

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer. (No, I didn't miss one. You'll see.)

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@kittenlittle24 @joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

[kurithedweeb]

can I ask what's "drop of sunlight" abt?

Absolutely you can, and thank you for doing so!!

Drop of Sunlight is the first work in my greater Minecraft Diaries rewrite series called Doomed By A Narrative, and will recount the story from Garroth's point of view from pre-canon to post-canon. Each following story, a few of which I've mentioned before like Loyalty of Memory and Spirit of Sin would be in the same vein with various different characters.

A lot of changes are being made to the world in which DoS takes place (including a full pantheon of gods worshiped prior to the Divine Warriors, several new countries, a whole cast of side characters from the rest of the aphverse and in-depth exploration of backstories of the main cast) so the story will end up very different to canon but I'm hoping to hit most of the main plot points. So much has been changed in fact that I'm currently rewriting the first chapter a third time so we start much earlier than the night Anastasia (the Shard of Irene became the MCD version of Aphmau) first appeared in Phoenix Drop and can lay some groundwork.

In DoS as it is currently being written, we start before Garroth falls into the responsibility of being commander of the Phoenix Drop guard. Zenix is in the middle of recovering from the wounds he had when Garroth first found him in the forest, and Garroth takes him on as his apprentice when his commander tells him something has to be done about his boy. Though he's spent a few years here, Garroth doesn't feel particularly at home in the guard. He stumbles into becoming head guard when the Lord is killed and shortly after his commander disappears, leaving the entire guard off-balanced and increasingly afraid as the people of the village begin blaming the guard for both the death and disappearance, and he does everything he can to keep the village together as it declines even though he never wanted to be in any position of power like the way he practically reigns now ever again. He's basically head guard and lord for an entire year, and as the cold starts to set in for the coming winter a maiden who speaks and acts oddly appears at the edge of town one stormy night, claiming to have been chasing a man, and in the morning all signs of both are gone. Garroth tries to continue business as usual, eventually Anastasia starts living in town instead of dipping in and out like she's the local cryptid, and from there we'll try to find a path between the main plot points.

I also like to add moments from canon that are minor or cast aside, like Garroth chasing Vylad in S1E1 and Brendan startling Aph into eating zombie brains, and NPCs like Kent the Guard who I'm sure no one will remember because he is not one of the Minecraft Comes Alive NPCs that become characters later on, whose hand I cut off because he was once involved in a fight with zombies. So sorry, Kent.

There is so much I want to do with Drop of Sunlight and the series overall, more than I think I could put in just this ask, and I'm so excited to see where it ends up!

I am aiming for magical realism or high fantasy, and I will warn you now that I am not going to be gentle with this story. Injuries will not be pretty, wars will be written out more or less in full (you can read Wagers of War here, which is actually an AU of Drop of Sunlight, for an idea of what that'll be like), and the politics and relationship drama and the idea of personal faith being turned on oneself as a weapon will run throughout.

If you have any questions about specific characters, aspects of worldbuilding or scenes please do ask, I will yap about this for ages if given half a chance.

[dyrewrites]

Meandering notes

So, @blue-manuscript challenged me to write slapstick vampires.

I've got ideas, but what I am sharing are meandering notes...should anyone be interested. I dunno when I will actually write the thing, but I keep jotting notes and dialogue (as this is how I learn characters -- if they sound familiar I have no excuse, those two live in my brain and are tainting everything).

It is long, and disjointed, be warned.

They don't have names yet, but the plan is a road trip following the U.S Highway 2 from Washington to Maine. No, I don't know why. This is just what they told me. They'll be dealing with vampire hunters, local authorities, especially brave prey with weapons they expect to work, whatever fun response to sunlight I am going to give them (that is not death because nyeh) and most of all...each other and the road itself. I'm hoping they get lost a lot, personally.

Enjoy the nonsense notes.

--

Two vampires trying to get to a wedding. The wedding is for one of their sister's descendants--he's kept in contact through generations and they help out and visit family regularly--and it's on the other side of the country but one of them refuses to fly on an airplane, and while they can both turn into bats it doesn't work in daylight, and they've never found shoes able to withstand their speed long enough to run--and one's not running barefoot. 

"How's Paris sound this spring? We could take the houseboat, with the roomy cabin."

"Mm, raiding yachts and eating rich assholes does sound fun but we're due in Maine for a wedding this spring."

"Another one?"

"Well it's legal now, so more are out there doing it."

"It was legal in the 1700s too, but that didn't require we drag our asses half a country away."

"I'm not sure draining the clergy and enchanting a priest to marry us counts as legal, and we also sprung for a big ceremony when laws changed--"

"Semantics. So, how many mewling brats are these ones going to pop out, ready to haunt us for all our eternity?"

"None, but they may adopt. Point is, I made promises and they expect us there."

"How long are we expected to play with our food this time?"

"They're descendants, my sweet, not food and we'll be there a day at most."

"I meant long term, love, how long are you going to keep this up?"

"Until the bloodline dries up."

"They're prey and you should eat the lot of them. Or at least stop indulging them. It's been so many generations now. You have your own life, you have me."

"And I love you, but you knew what you were getting when you married me, so zip it."

"I love you too, you and your highly specific bleeding heart. So you expect me to sit in some stuffy rental while you drive us across the country?"

"We can stop for meals along the way, do some sightseeing."

"We've seen all the sights. Why don't we just fly?"

"No planes."

"This again. We can't die. Even if the whole thing drops out of the sky. We'll live."

"I'm aware. Doesn't make it any less unnerving to soar through clouds in a massive metal coffin."

"You fly higher every night, and often sleep in a coffin..."

"As a bat, meant for flight and the coffin doesn't bother because you're in there with me."

"I'll be with you in the plane too, love. Maybe we could charter a private jet, something with a big, comfy bed?"

"I'm not sure that's something we can charter, sweets, and what would we eat during the flight? We can't drain passengers, they'd revolt and we'd be forced to kill all of them. I don't know how to fly a plane, do you?"

"Then we fast, nipping sips here and there but no deaths."

"After what happened last time?"

"It wasn't that bad."

"Tell the settlers of Roanoke that."

"Was a fun first date alone though, wasn't it? Both of us free. You covered in all that blood. Oh, fine, fine. We'll drive, but I'm not getting in a rental. We're buying something shiny and fast and speeding the whole way."

"Feeding on patrolmen?"

"I do enjoy the taste of overinflated ego, oh and hitchhikers. Maybe stop at some of those ridiculous roadside attractions, snatch a family or two. Throw a few into the grand canyon...watch them break into little pieces."

"My sugar excited?"

"Sugar?"

"What, I can't try new things?"

"No, no, it's cute and a road trip sounds great...babe."

"You take that back."

"Mm-mm, you're babe now."

"I'm not answering to it."

"You will."

"I won't."

No becoming, they just are. Have been since sometime in the 1400s. Together since early 1500s. Different makers, bonded over poor treatment. Both makers long dead--one of them killed his own and hunted the other's to free him. They've kept in the world, blending well enough, eating whoever they want and killing anyone who tries to stop them. Most of their money is stolen or inherited from sham marriages to wealthy prey--one marries them, the other is hired as help, they enjoy one another's company and eat anyone who notices the husband isn't aging until the spouse dies. Spent some time as pirates as well, because crews have high turnover anyway, who would notice. A few of their crews did, tried to set the ship on fire with them in it. So they stopped. Lot of treasure hidden about though.

We meet them in the present, before the wedding announcement, as they're on a date that's interrupted by a vampire hunter. One who tries to shoot one of them, in the head. 

His neck snaps back with the force before he scoffs, "great, there goes the hair and now I have a hole ruining my face and fuckin wiff my wordth for the next phoo ors."

His husband laughs, "oh, buddy, you're fucked. No, no, don't run. That'll just make him chase and I promise he's faster."

"Wath there holy water in thith? It thtingth."

"He drank some too, so don't bother with the blood."

"Oh I'm botherin. Drainin him dry, nithe an thlow, damn the burn."

"But your throat, and that beautiful voice..."

"You'll live. He won't."

"Share then, so you get a hot little rasp?"

"Keep that up, he geth all twitchy when you flirt with me."

"All that religion, I bet."

"Don't theem to help now."

"Well, they do leave out the why of the water and the weapons. Might as well be piss and plastic."

"Crath, love."

"We better eat him so you can heal that quicker or I'm just going to be giggling the next few hours."

They are indestructible vampires who keep getting into situations that would kill anything else...and handling them with sass or needless hysterics.

Arguing at night on a rural road, and a car hits them. The car is completely totaled, the vampires aren't even scratched but they keep arguing while yanking survivors out and eating them.

"My whole pants? All the pants. Couldn't take a leg or some of the shirt, it had to take all my fucking pants!"

"I suppose that's my fault too?"

"Well you're the one who got us lost out in fuckall and stomped your dainty little toes out to the middle of the street to scream at me so..."

"Dainty? How about we see how dainty they are when I shove them up your ass!"

"We both know what you want to shove up my ass and it's not your toes."

"Are you flirting? There's glass and bits of metal stuck in your thighs and you're flirting?"

"Noticed my thighs, did you."

"I noticed you're an idiot who doesn't know how to move out of the way!"

"Well I couldn't let the big ugly van hit that beautiful face, now could I?"

"You, don't you dare try to flatter me, you insufferable ass!"

"But you're so hot when you're angry."

"Shut. Up."

"Mm, and you want me so bad you're monosyllabic."

"Your meal is fleeing."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Oh, now you're blaming me for your running mouth?"

"If the lips fit."

"What does that even me--"

"Mm, terrible."

"Hold that heat while I catch the runner..."

"Grab his pants too, he looked your size."

"Checking out prey now?"

"Oh yes, I lust for prey, you better hurry before I flag me down a hot piece of trucker."

"I love you!"

"I love you too...you ass."

Stopping under movers raising a piano to a second floor, start making out, and the piano falls, cracking in half. The vampires are unharmed, keep making out while people scream around them trying to clean up the mess.

Making out over a dead body, shoving it out of the way to do more--using a corpse's head as leverage.

Having a delightful dinner conversation in a diner full of bodies and one living waiter left, enchanted to make and fetch them coffee.

Random prey is not afraid, "oh, what, you're going to kill me? Big vampire thinks he's scarier than a man with a gun, or a knife or determination and a spoon?"

"Well I was hungry...now not so much."

"Yeah, kinda kills the mood. What about the walking Adonis back at the clothing store?"

"Mm, he did look delicious..."

"Wait, you're not going to eat me?"

"You clearly just want to die, so you can go ahead and do that yourself."

"We're not here to eat your pain, buddy."

"Or fulfill some sick little desire you have for fangs."

"We can read them all, you know, and it's quite a show in there."

"You can...see my thoughts?"

"Yes, and it's a show you can enjoy alone." 

"But I, I mean I saw you. I could, I could tell someone. Hunters."

"Oh, it's threatening us. Isn't that cute."

"Hunters are delicious, little bite. Call all you like. We're going to go drink someone hotter while we wait."

[sleepyrxsetea]

blog intro

i'm making a new intro to include my WIP's as well!

howdy! my name is Rose and i've been around for over a year now! i would love to meet more writers and overall cool people! this blog has a writing/book reading focus while also having a few other things here and there (so descriptive, ik)

i have two alt blogs as well. @eye-motive is my fiction podcast blog (The Magnus Archives. at this point it's only tma and tmagp and some Malevolent here and there) and then @sleepyrxserambles is random stuff that is not podcast or writing specific (it's the wild west on there)

DNI: bigots, TERF’s, ableist’s, homophobes, transphobes, interphobes, bots, you get the idea i hope: don't be a jerk

some quick facts though:

-xe/they nonbinary aroace spectrum being

-favorite games are open world rpg games, Animal Crossing and Omori

-i read a lot. most of it is high fantasy (but my true favorite books are actually shitty paranormal romance. 'mostly high fantasy' is a cover up i tell so i don't get judged even harsher by the people in my life for liking the books even though they make me ridiculously happy)

-um...moving on from that rant. i also like gardening (new lore unlocked)

-i like watching anime! some of my favorites are BSD, Horimiya, Banana Fish and Sailor Moon. i also read manga, some of my favorites have been Fruit’s Basket, The Promised Neverland and Sailor Moon

-i like Sailor Moon. i’m not sure if you can tell or not

-besides watching anime my favorite shows are Doctor Who, Good Omens, Dead Boy Detectives, What We Do In The Shadows and Our Flag Means Death

-i also like watching vtuber’s in my spare time. I don’t have any particular favorites but I do watch Gavis Bettel often

now, the WIP's! i'm only putting one for now because it's the only one i'm dedicated on working on, lol (it's below)

Harrison Weber And The Serial Murder Case Of The Theater Troupe (otherwise known as Harrison Weber And The Serial Murder Case On Oxford Street. i'll also make a better name eventually, promise)

in this WIP it is kinda like Sherlock Holmes with a twist. Oliver Briggs is the newest assistant to the big shot detective, Harrison Weber, known for his expertise in solving serial murder cases. Fresh out of college and still trying not to hurl at the sight of blood, Oliver has been assigned to take the lead on a new case so his boss can see what he is made of. There has been a murder in a local park and the victim turns out to be someone Oliver knows, his childhood friend. While trying to grapple with this loss, unexpectedly his old babysitter passes. Then his cousin. As he looks into their deaths he realizes that they are all connected by only three things; himself, the theater troupe his mother had been a part of and a deadly fire that happened 13 years ago. Will Oliver be able to find the killer before they kill again? Or will he have to suffer the loss of yet someone else he holds dear?

that is my first time writing a summery, lol. also the last two sentences are kinda bad but i needed a hook

also i don't want to say the twist but if you look at my other posts you can tell

but, some updates. i am currently working on fleshing out the characters so that they feel actually human and making a chapter outline. i haven't started to write the first draft yet but plan on doing it soon! i will update more here and on actual posts. i don't really write mystery so we'll see how it goes :D

thank you for reading! i really appreciate it :D stay safe, take care of yourself and remember to take it easy sometimes

[teetle-time]

from a doylist/logistical standpoint, i get why a lot of the fiddling with dimensions we get tends to stay within the set boundaries of a given iteration. just look how they massacred the 87!gang, especially in the 2012 xovers. heck, they just slapped together some new lore for 87!krang all retcon style!

but the idea of having a big reveal where a character already baked into a modern iteration turns out to be not just a counterpart of a previous version of the character, but that actual character themself, having traveled through dimensions to end up in the new iteration…you gotta admit, if it got done properly, it'd be so cool.

ope! this villain swore vengeance as their fancy schmancy machinery malfunctioned and seemingly vaporized everything? huh. well they look to be gone but we'll keep our eyes peeled for their return…except they never come back. maybe they were planned to return, maybe not. maybe there was time in the show/comic's run to address it, maybe it got cancelled before they got a chance. it just seems like a plot thread that never got properly taken care of.

smash cut to another iteration. the local version of the villain in question has been fairly close to the source material thus far, but they've been working on something In Secret™, eh? whoopsie-daisies, it's straight-up just the dude from before, slowly building their power back up! their new and improved evil plan is revealed: they intend on taking out the local turtles before plunging into the multiverse to return home and eliminate their turtles! MWAHAHAHAHA!

yes, it would probably be a nightmare to coordinate any returning VAs or to figure out how to account for VAs who maybe can't reprise their roles. yes, it would probably suck balls to try and do multiple artstyles justice at the same time, be they animated, comic book, or being brought from one to the other. yes, trying to balance two different turtleverses' "vibes" by striking a happy medium between the two without completely wrecking anybody's characterization would be (and clearly has been) notoriously difficult.

but man, that would be such a fun watch. and potentially even a good way for canon catharsis for the older iteration, if the villain in question was one the fans already liked.

[avocado-frog]

Incorrect Quotes Tag

As u know I love doing incorrect quotes so thank you to @riveriafalll

Rules: create a set of “incorrect quotes” (either using a generator or your memory, feel free to adjust them to your needs) for your ocs or characters!

---

Cass: Accidentally indulged in too much 'free time', turns out I've been reported missing for over six months and presumed dead by most local and national authorities.

-

Dylan: I have the sharpest memory here - name one time I forgot something. Sam: You forgot me in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago. Dylan: I did that on purpose, try again

-

Cass: The secret of life is to always use more spinach and less rice than you think you'll need Cass: The second secret to life is that fresh air, warm sun, and a cup of tea will make your problems small enough to start handling Cass: The third secret to life is that, sometimes, violence really is the answer

-

Lily: I personally don't think it's possible to come up with a crazier plan. Elliot: We could attack them with hummus. Lily: I stand corrected. Elliot: Just keeping things in perspective.

-

Lily: You can de-escalate literally any situation by asking 'are we about to kiss?' Lily: Doesn't work with getting out of speeding tickets, though.

-

Cass, about Leo: They're covered in blood again. Why is it they're always covered in blood? Logan: Well, it looks like it's their own blood this time.

-

Kai, planning a group disguise: You cannot be Blake Bortles. Jaxon: Fine! Then I’ll be Jake- Kai, under his breath: Don’t say Jortles. Jaxon: Jortles! And I work at the molotov cocktail department.

-

Leo: Dylan, what is the ONE thing I asked you NOT to do tonight? Dylan: Raise the dead. Leo: And what did you do? Dylan: Raised the dead..

-

Leo: I hate you. Jaxon: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

-

Emily: I’m going to kill Jaxon! Leo, completely monotone: Oh no. Don’t.

-

Logan: We need to distract these guys. Dylan: Leave it to me. Dylan: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Lily & Jaxon: *immediately begin arguing*

-

Dylan: When I first got my autism diagnosis, my first thought was "woah... it's canon" and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why Logan made me get tested.

-

Logan: People always ask me how I maintain control in my house with eight kids. The answer is: I don't. I have no control here. Jaxon called me into his room the other day and Dylan shot me in the neck with a nerf gun. Logan: I don't even know what a nerf gun is.

-

Ryan: *double checking supplies in the boat* Compass. CB radio. Sunscreen. Dylan: Hot dog costumes! Ryan: I'm sorry, what? Dylan: You know, in case we get lost at sea, and one of us, probably Elliot, goes mad with hunger, we'll put these on. Elliot hates hot dogs, so he probably won't eat us. Ryan: Are you saying that Elliot would rather eat us than hot dogs? Elliot: I do hate hot dogs.

-

Sam: What's your greatest fear? Dylan: Being forgotten. Sam: ... Sam: Damn, that's deep. Sam: Mine is the Kool Aid man, but I feel kinda stupid about it now...

---

Tagging: @elizaellwrites

@bikaribechic

@elsie-writes

Open tag as usual

[eleni-cherie]

among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- chapter 1.0

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

© 2023 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

"Sir, are we sure this isn't a trap?"

"Skylar's right!" Jungkook chirped in, nodding. Both subordinates leaning forward in their seats. Seokjin sighed seeing their inquiring looks.

"Of course we can't be absolutely sure, but it's very unlikely. There isn't any beneficial reason for them to trap interpol agents. I think I know them well enough and for Kim Taehyung to call and ask me for help, it means they've got a real problem."

Skylar and Jungkook exchanged a look, facing Seokjin again. "And do you know what's exactly the deal? What happened that he revealed their location?"

"He said it's about Park Jimin."

"Wha.. what issue regarding him?"

He motioned to the case file in front of him. Opening it. "Of course take it with a grain of salt, but according to him Jimin is having a severe dissociation. He couldn't exactly tell me why, but apparently he attacked both his partners and attempted to kill Miss Valentine before fleeing."

Jungkook hummed, seemingly confused as his brows furrowed into a deep frown. "But isn't he totally infatuated with her? Why would he kill her?"

"That's exactly the point," Seokjin said, pointing his finger at him, "He wouldn't. In fact, he'd never kill anyone unless it was for self-defense." One of the very few reasons he secretly respected his opponent a lot. "So if Taehyung is saying the truth, there's indeed something very wrong with him."

"Making him quite dangerous," Skylar mumbled absentmindedly with a concerned expression. Glancing up at them. "I mean, if a thief with his abilities turns into an assassin.."

Jungkook's eyes widened, understanding what she was hinting to. A person like this being on the loose would be dangerous. Extremely dangerous.

Seokjin nodded. A deeply worried look spread on his usually soft features. "That'd make him one of the most dangerous men in the world. That's why we've got to catch him before that happens."

"We'll land at the international airport of Havana in approximiately fifteen minutes."

The voice of the captain was heard through the speaker then.Finally. After all, they hadn't had even time to sleep after arresting a wanted identity thief in Montreal before getting the call and instantly boarding the interpol private jet to fly over to the carribbean.

Seokjin directed his attention to his two assistants once more. Closing the files on the table.

"When we land, I want you two to meet with his partners and gather as much information on the situation as possible."

Skylar blinked puzzled. "Shouldn't we arrest them?"

"Not yet. Remember, they were the ones calling us. Our main priority is to find Jimin. After that, arrest them."

She nodded at her superior's orders. Him continuing then, facing Jungkook. "Make sure they won't hold back any details. Meanwhile I'll head to the headquaters and organise everything we know and see if I can find any more clues." He sighed then, looking out at the clouds. The sun would soon rise over the horizon. "I hope we can find him before any damage takes place."

»»»

After meeting with the local police force and making sure he hadn't left the country yet, Seokjin coordinated an extensive search all around the city and the main island. Apparently Arabella had last seen him downtown a few hours ago, near the local hospital. So that was served as a starting point. He shouldn't have got too far away in these time period.

They expected the search to be easier than usual considering they, more-or-less, knew his location and it wasn't a metropole. However, they didn't expect it to be this easy. 

First Seokjin and his team didn't want to believe the claims of a bewildered police officer at a local police station in the outskirts. Until they shortly arrived there and saw no one but Jimin there. Totally drenched Jimin and not saying a word to anyone. The police officers had immediately reported his appearing to the headquaters, not knowing what else to do with him.

He was simply standing there with dull eyes. Letting Seokjin put the handcuffs around his wrists without any protest. No tricks, no clever line. Nothing. 

And Seokjin could instantly see what Taehyung had meant on the phone. This surely wasn't the Park Jimin he knew.

Puzzled and utterly stunned, they brought him to the private jet. The whole police squad escorting them there, just in case it was a bluff after all or he came back to his senses and tried pulling something on them. But he didn't do anything.

No, he was just silently sitting there. Staring down on his lap. Only occasionally grabbing his forehead or shoulder, knitting his brows together in agony as if he was in pain.

The plane fight back was equally as silent. Jungkook and Skylar having fallen asleep right after taking off, both being quite exhausted from the last twenty-four hours. Him snoring quietly while she was drooling on his shoulder.

Seokjin observed them, pitying and envying them at the same time. Both were still so young, maybe too young to have to deal with the often hard life of an interpol agent. However, they also reminded him a lot of himself, back then when he had come fresh out of the academy.

His gaze wandered to Jimin in the dim-lit plane, who just like him wasn't sleeping. Calmly staring outside into the by now dawning sky. His face still expressionless. However, there was also a hint of sadness in it.

This wasn't the first time Seokjin had managed to arrest Jimin. In fact, there had been planty of times over the years they had known each other. This, however, was by far the oddest one. Usually Jimin would've already got rid of the handcuffs and attempted to flee. Or would have said a smug remark at least. However, he hadn't done any of this by now. 

Something was very wrong and Seokjin was determined to find out what it was. And who the cause of this was.

»»»

Seoul, South Korea

Back in the korean interpol branch Seokjin held open the gate to the cell in the custody block. "Get inside," he ordered, motioning inside with his chin. Jimin did as told, the gate bars closing behind him.

"You know, I should be glad," Seokjin exhaled then while locking it, "I should be glad I caught you without any incidents. But for some reason I can't." Glancing a last time on him, he gave him a sympathetic look. "I don't know what happened to you, but this isn't the master thief I know."

Jimin remained silent, watchim him walk to the guard and giving exact instructions before he left. Leaving him back alone.

He took a seat on the simple bed in the cold grey cell. The throbbing in his head returning, along with a stabbing pain in his side. He groaned quietly, not wanting to gain the guard's attention who had sat at the end of the corridor.

When would these headaches finally stop?

Almost a week passed by like this without him taking any notice.Day and night seeming the same. Time either not passing at all or passing too fast. 

Every day Seokjin tried to interrogate him, but Jimin would just sit there. Not saying a word. Not even flinching when hearing all the charges - theft and identity theft in multiple cases. And every day Seokjin would sigh at the failed attempts and bring him back to his cell. Shaking his head lightly.

Wondering if Jimin was also a master actor or if he indeed had become a complete stranger.

And every day Jimin would just lay there on the bed, with his hands folded underneath his head and stare at the white ceiling. Hours and days simply passing by like this.

Occasionally, he'd get one of those painful headaches. Feeling like his brain was melting at the attempt to gain some of his memory back. Single fragments randomly popping up with no context. Images flashing in front of his mind's eye. Accompanied by loud voices, talking across each other. Making him clench his jaw.

Day by day the headaches got worse and the memory fragments longer and clearer. It got especially bad on the sixth day when he saw a 14-year old Taehyung suddenly standing there. Grinning at him from a car's hood. Right after they stole liquor from an illegal transporter.

"The thrill! I love the thrill of it!" he said, holding up a bottle."The thrill huh?" Jimin remembered answering him. "That's the reason I do this, too. The reason I enjoy stealing. It's the thrill and the rush!" Both grinned at each other. "I wanna become a thief, but on my own terms. Not my grandfathers!" Jimin announced then holding his own liquor bottle up. "You wanna join me?" 

Taehyung thought for a moment, eventually shrugging. "Sure, why not."

He groaned again, his head was a mess.

"Oh, a samurai!"

"You're quite an idiot, aren't you?" Yoongi said with an unamused expression. The sword's blade lightly poking Jimin's neck. "Samurai were japanese and I'm korean."

"Whatever you are, you're pretty cool," Jimin countered with a wide grin. As if he was oblivious to the situation. Irritating Yoongi even more. "You tried stealing my family's formula for imperious sword blades. I'm afraid you've got to pay for that."

"Pay? You mean stabbing me with that dope sword of yours?" he asked surprised, tapping the blade with his index finger. "That's a pity. I could use someone like you in my team."

Yoongi scoffed. "I'd never want to help a thief anyway."

"Really? Not even if I could help you get the guys arrested who killed your uncle?"

Those memories. They were short glimpses of his past. But still, he began to remember more.

"Park Jimin!" Arabella yelled his name from the lower level of the mansion. Showing off proudly the necklace around her neck before winking at him, blowing him a kiss. "Better luck next time!" "How about I just come get it from you?"

She smirked. Loading her berretta with a makeshift projectile out of her red lipstick. Aiming at him. "Don't even think of it."

He was just standing there at the railing, propping his hands on the metallic bars. Watching her every move without flinching at the shot, the lipstick grazing his cheek. He observed her turn around then. Not even attempting preventing her from running out with the diamonds around her neck. Too mesmerised by her.

And he smiled to himself. "One day I'll steal your heart, Arabella Valentine."

-"You must kill Arabella Valentine."

"Certainly not."

Kir smirked evily. Holding up something between her fingers. "The injection was only a tranquilizer, you know. But this little pill here will either make you submissive to our orders.. or kill you. It's still in the experimental phase. It'll be fun to watch the outcome either way," the woman's voice rang. "So either die or finish the job from back then. Finish off the woman who betrayed you over and over again. Remember Cairo? How she got away with the ruby and let you face authorities? The Indian job? Where she convinced you to give her the golden statue only to rush away on her bike? And I got even more on my list here." Her finger tapping on a file with documents before closing it.

She stood up then, walking towards him. And as he felt his limbs growing weaker and the two buff men having to put more effort in keeping him up, she forced the little blue pill into his mouth. And he wasn't able to do anything against it.

"So how about you finally get your revenge at her for humiliating you? For all the times she betrayed and left you behind. Eliminate her."

"Jimin!" another female voice yelled then. He looked around. Seeing Arabella standing there. Her soft big eyes frowning at him."This isn't your real self." She took her gun out, pointing at him with a disappointed look. "You should know I'm the only person in the world who can claim you." And she shot.

His eyes abruptly opened wide. 

He instantly flinched by the dazzling neon light above him and he covered his face. Another groan escaping his lips. This time louder.

The guard, confused about the agonising noises that seemed to be worse and lasting longer than the previous days, quickly called the Seokjin. Asking for orders on how to proceed as the prisoner seemed to be in great pain. It was quite late by now after all.

Most colleagues had left, leaving mostly guards on the night shift there and a few agents who remained to finish off paperwork.

A few minutes later Seokjin appeared, asking the guard to get a doctor in case.

"What's the issue," he asked then, yawning into the palm of his hand. His coat almost slipping from his grip. He had been about to go home when the guard had called him. "You look quite miserable. Worse than any other day. Are you sick?"

"My head, it's my head," Jimin mumbled, burrying his face in his hands more, "They.. they did something."

Seokjin perked up at this. This is the most Jimin had talked ever since he saw him back in the police office in Havana. "Who's 'they'?"

"They.." His voice was weak. "They gave me a pill. It was a woman, Kir. She told me to eliminate Bella."

"A pill? You mean drugs?"

"I don't know."

"And why would they make you eliminate her?"

"She.. she was one of them."

"What?" Seokjin frowned confused. "Who was one of who?"

"Bel-la.. was one of them."

Seokjin hummed as his brows knitted together. That was a detail he hadn't known yet. He instantly called Jungkook who was also still somewhere in the building. "JK? Do a new background check on Arabella Valentine tomorrow. I want every little unimportant info you can find." He was too immersed in the phone call, not noticing Jimin slowly standing up and walking towards him.

Only when the older guy turned around, he saw him suddenly standing right in front of him behind the bars. A clicking noise following. "Sorry, pops," Jimin grinned.

Seokjin's eyes widened and he looked down, seeing his wrist being handcuffed to the bars. "What the-" Jimin had got rid of the handcuffs and instead locked him up as he hadn't been paying attention. Letting his guard down by thinking Jimin still had amnesia. He should've realised he was back to normal when saying 'Bella' instead of 'Arabella'.

Seokjin tried pulling at them in vain. "Park Jimin, you're arrested!"

"I know! You already arrested me after all!" he chuckled amused, grabbing Seokjin's gun out of his holster. "That's why I'm here." He aimed at the gate's lock, shooting a few times before it plopped open. Seokjin taking cover by sliding down to the ground. 

As he stepped out, Jimin bent down. Their faces being on the same level. "Fifteen minues. That's all I'm asking for before you call for back-up."

Seokjin laughed under his breath, about to protest when seeing the genuine distress and plead in Jimin's eyes. And considering the fact someone had apparently kidnapped and brainwashed him into killing the woman he loved, Seokjin couldn't help but pity him in a way.

His lips pressed together, eyeing his coat before facing Jimin again. Eventually sighing with a smile.

"Ten minues." His free hand slid inside the pocket. "Be quick and don't make me regret it."

Jimin's lips curled up into a joyful grin. Grabbing Seokjin's coat from the ground and putting it on to pass by any guards or agents unnoticed. "Thanks, pops! You're the best!"

"And stop calling me 'pops'!" Seokjin groaned as Jimin stormed out. "I'm only three years older than you!"

"I know, I know!"

»»»

next chapter: 1.1 here

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #298

…I took 1040 pictures on the way to the funeral for M's grandmother. I'm sad that I only get to include 30 of them.

It was about a 2 hour car trip to the place where the funeral was being held. On the way up, M put on all of the songs by The Megas; he and I sang the songs together in the car, and it was awesome. I've written about The Megas before; their songs are based on the music of the original MegaMan games. Their themes include things like breaking robots free from slavery, fighting against corruption and violence, and being made to be a weapon. I think you'd find a bunch of their songs to be extremely relatable; listen to the lyrics, and you'll understand why, I'm sure. Lemme pull up a few for ya...

...Those two above really should be combined into a single song.

Here's a few more...

...I think you'll find this one particularly poignant:

Here's a couple more:

And this one in particular...

...By far, I think my favorite is this one, though:

...The lyrics of this one. I find them profound and inspirational. It is something that acknowledges the difficulty of the things, and yet urges you to take one more step forward.

M loved his grandmother very much, but towards the end, they had a bit of a falling out; as it turns out, she is a bit too okay with things like racism and nationalism for comfort. This realization left a very sour taste in M's mouth, and though he still loves her, they didn't speak for a very long time, and the bond kinda frayed apart from there.

Naturally, M was sad at her passing. His feelings on it are maybe a bit complicated. And that's all right. J and I will be here to support him through it - whatever he needs from us, we'll make sure he gets.

We went to lunch at a local Irish pub. But the town we had to go to is rather... hrrrm... how to describe in a way you'll understand, given your lack of historical and cultural context...

...Essentially, it's a town full of folks who think that brown-skinned people, immigrants, and non-cisgender and non-straight folks are bad. There was a TV in the restaurant we went to that played some very outlandish political advertisements; one of the slogans we heard that made us retch a little on the inside was, "Kamala Harris is for they/them, not you!"

...For reasons I don't fully understand, lots of people in my country have a HUGE problem with transgender people, and that's reflected in that crazy slogan. Some of the people I know and love are transgender, and it's really sad to think that there's an alarming number of people who'd like to see them erased from existence.

...The kinds of people who live in towns like these also have problems with things like "giving medical treatment to incarcerated people", "helping struggling families so they don't starve or end up homeless", and "welcoming people from war-torn places so they can find peace and safety". They have problems with A LOT more things than just these; most of those "problems" revolve around the notion that people other than straight, white, financially stable, cisgender male, able-bodied, neurotypical Christian Americans exist. This thing, in and of itself, is one of the ways that the scarcity/competition mindset manifests - they don't wanna see those they consider "outsiders" get helped while they themselves are struggling because they think "help" is a finite resource that they, themselves, are unworthy of receiving. It's a complicated topic outside the scope of today's letter; maybe I'll cover it some other time.

...In any case, it's scary because most people, including everyone in my house and almost everyone I know, do not fit that very narrow definition of what is "acceptable" to these kinds of folks. I grew up around people like this, and when I got out, I had a lot of awful stuff to unlearn; I understand the mechanics of how people end up getting warped into fearing and hating their brothers and sisters who look and think and do things differently than they do. It comes about as a complicated interaction between generational trauma and the almost cult-like tendencies of large communities of abusive, toxic people.

...I feel badly for them because I know all too well how difficult it is to escape entire circles full of abusive, toxic people. I am going to explain the mechanics so you'll understand, but... these mechanics are ugly and cover a lot of sad, scary, and troubling things, so if you don't wanna continue reading, I understand. In any case, escaping is almost like trying to break up with a toxic partner (this is also unimaginably difficult!), except... instead of it just being your partner, it's your entire family and everyone they know and everyone you know. Often, escaping circles like these involves needing to wholly remove yourself from everyone you used to know in favor of finding an entirely new circle of healthy people.

...Except that's also a challenge, because when you leave such pervasive toxicity, you don't have ANY of the skills needed to interact successfully with healthy people, and as a result, most of them will find you insufferable, because they don't understand why you are the way you are; how can they? Most healthy people have no idea what it's like to be steeped in generational systems of abuse that are designed to keep you locked in perpetual fear and servitude to whomever your brain is conditioned to recognize as "in charge".

...For a long time, the person that my brain recognized as basically "god" was my mother. I depended on her for everything, because she kept me tied down with all her unrealistic expectations of me in order to make sure I didn't have any real freedom - though I don't think that this was conscious on her part. Nonetheless, my mother abused the power dynamic between us, threatening to send me back to my father's house to get hurt whenever I didn't live up to whatever she wanted from me at any given time. In a situation like this where mother says vile, horrific shit like "bomb the desert until it's glass" and "don't ever date a black man", and disagreeing will make you fall out of favor enough to be put in literal physical danger... you agree with what mother says. OR ELSE.

...In those days, I didn't have another frame of reference outside of the abuse I suffered at my father's house, and as far as I was concerned, my mother was the one who deigned to "save" me from that awful place, so I eagerly tried to lap up everything she said and incorporate it into my brain as though she is the Supreme Authority on Everything and The Super Smartest Person Ever. I was conditioned to believe that I owed her unconditional obedience and agreement with everything she says and does in return for the fact that she gave me food, a place to sleep, and clothing. I imagine you went through basically the same thing with all the bullshit and lies you were fed at Shinra. I imagine you were made to feel like a burden, and that you had to make up for it, or something similar.

...I'm glad I know better now. There's still so much that I'm trying to unlearn. But still... I'm extremely lucky to have escaped AT ALL. I'm extremely lucky to have found people who were patient enough with me to teach me new things and to help cleanse my brain of the nasty, racist, sexist, bigoted, nationalistic shit that was forced into my ears and down my throat. I'm extremely lucky that they kept persisting with doing that, even when I was fool enough to resist their efforts to help me.

...The people who are still bigoted are people who have not yet been able to escape. And the reasons for that are simple. Lots of people who come from situations like mine have it ground into their skulls that anyone outside of the known social group hates you and wants to destroy you (this is projection at its finest). And so you're given a choice - oppose your known social group and have them AND the outside world hate you, or keep your head down, don't make waves, and agree with the status quo.

...I've already covered the notion in previous letters that most people would rather be dead than be considered unlovable by their known social group. And so for a lot of people trapped in situations like mine, the choice seems clear, because from the inside of that situation, it doesn't look like there's really a choice at all.

The other part of this equation is the application of violence whenever you're considered "in the wrong". And so people from situations like mine, often enough, will get defensive and dig their heels in when they're called out on their shit, because they've been conditioned to expect to receive rejection, emotional violence, or even physical violence whenever someone thinks they're in the wrong in some way. So the strategy most often used is to try, frantically, to prove that they don't deserve to be hit, as opposed to seeing a different perspective and changing their minds. A frightened brain cannot learn or absorb new information efficiently!! This is important!!

...Also, for lots of people in situations like mine, there isn't anyone to teach you anything; there are only people who will hurt you for being wrong. And so by the time you get out of that kind of horrifying gauntlet, you get out into the real world outside of your cult-like social circle, and you can't imagine that people aren't going to try to crush your skull into the floor (metaphorically or literally) for disagreeing with them.

Imagining being taught gently instead of simply being punished until you "get it right", after living in a situation like mine for a long time, is kind of like trying to imagine sticking your bare hand on a red-hot stove and not getting burned. Such a thing is unthinkable, right? And it applies to everything - EVERYTHING. And this is part of the reason why some folks get really uptight about receiving ANY kind of constructive criticism, suggestions, or feedback on anything at all.

Think about it. You take a small white child raised in a house that hates black people, and the child goes to school and meets little black children, makes friends with them and realizes, "hey, there's nothing actually wrong with black children," because obviously. Then the child goes home to tell his family, and the child is either gonna get hit a lot, or they're gonna get some equivalent of, "Well, then you're no fucking child of mine! Get away from me you morally repugnant filth!"

...There's not a whole lot that the child can do in this scenario except agree. He can run to school and tell his teacher, but teaching your child bigotry isn't outlawed here, and even physical abuse is hard to prove, and the foster care system here often leads to even worse outcomes. Even if the child is believed by the school staff, often the best that happens is the child's parents get talked to. And then once that happens, and the family realizes the child tattled... well. The child is gonna get hurt. A lot. Don't ask how I know; you don't wanna know the answer.

So the child spends their whole life psychically self-mutilating in order to survive in their environment, trying to suit the social rules so they don't get ostracized and abused. And then the child becomes an adult and gets out to "the really real world", as my mother used to like to call it. This child - now an adult - wasn't taught how to deal with big emotions; they were taught to numb out via dissociation, workaholism, risky behavior, or substance abuse.

...So they meet new people and they get confronted with the fact that everything they were taught by the people who were supposed to love them and care for them is wrong. Just flat-out wrong. The adult child now has to contend with the notion that they've twisted themselves up into pretzels trying to suit their adult overlords for NOTHING. It was all done IN VAIN. And this comes with a hefty dose of grieving - grieving that they don't know how to fucking do because they weren't taught how to do it, because the rule in houses like these is, "fuck you and fuck your stupid little fucking feelings". So they get stuck in some of the first stages of that grief - shock and denial. Emphasis on the denial.

Add in the fact that children from situations like mine are often taught that they're fundamentally bad and a pain in the ass, and therefore they owe their parents for putting a roof over their head and food in their stomach and clothes on their back. Fuck, in houses like the one I grew up in, the notion is that you owe your parents for the simple fact that they even allow you to exist at all. Disrespect in this context is absolutely fucking unacceptable, and disagreeing with ANYTHING taught to you by your parents is considered MASSIVE disrespect. Add in the anticipation of punishment for disagreement to the mix. The result is terror.

...Then add in the fact that people from situations like mine often get conditioned to believe that those outside of the known social group are morally inferior, terrible, awful people who are not to be trusted. So from here - do you go with the beliefs fed to you by the people you feel you owe everything to and feel are the only ones who will ever love you? Or do you consider the new perspective brought in by the "outsider"? Most people are unable to choose the second option, and it doesn't have anything to do with them being "bad people" or "weak-willed".

Factor in all these things, and try to understand WHY it's so difficult for folks from situations like mine to change their mind about ANYTHING. And it SUCKS, because... there are a lot of people who could be helped just like how I was helped. Bigotry is not the natural state of a human; it shows up as a result of being steeped in it since childhood and being conditioned to believe that your options are either to believe in the bigotry or face a hostile world alone.

...M's grandmother didn't escape before her death. And that's really sad, because she was, as far as I could tell, an otherwise kind and loving person who always tried to do the right thing. It's just... she grew up and lived for a long time in a situation in which she was misguided about "the right thing", because the version of "the right thing" that she was taught is dependent on the notion that the "inferiors" must suffer.

...I know how I was helped to escape from all this shit. I'm still trying to think of a way to make it so everyone can escape. I want everyone to be able to recover from the shit they were taught as children. I want every single neurotype (yes, even those neurotypes with problems with the portions of the brain responsible for empathy!) to have the support an infrastructure they need to succeed. I want everyone to be happy and to thrive. And I know we can build a world like that. It's just... I'm not smart enough to know how to replicate what was done for me on a mass scale. And also... the way it will work will necessarily have to be different for each human, because we all come from different childhoods and different walks of life, and we all have different brains. I'm not fool enough to think that what worked for me will work for everyone.

...Sometimes I look at the state of things - all the beautiful people hurting and killing each other - and for what??? And... I don't know what to do. I want everyone to keep existing, but I don't want anyone to have to suffer senselessly. It's a great big huge mess with lots of moving parts, and I get daunted and depressed if I stare at it for too long.

In any case, we're home now. We were out for a long time. I rested for a little while, and then I went through the photos and selected the 30 best ones, and then I started writing whatever popped into my head, and suddenly it's almost time for bed already. Whoops.

I'm a little tired from having had to be in the presence of M's parents (there are reasons for this; maybe I'll explain another time...), and I'm not ready for tomorrow to start tomorrowing. But the passage of time keeps happening even when I don't want it to. Oh well. I'll try to make the best of it. Maybe I'll find something fun to do.

Sephiroth. Maybe you heard the songs I put up at the top and found them relatable. But you gotta remember that you're not a weapon or a machine. You're a man - a squishy mammal - and you've got choices and you can do good things with those choices. Even when it looks like you don't have choices, you still have choices. If you don't know what those choices are, ask someone who is further along with the healing than you. I can help you a little in that regard. And so can Angeal and Zack, I'm sure. J and M also know a lot. And so do most of the people in my current social circle. You can count on any of us.

It's never "you are who you are and that's all there is to it". No one is born bad. No one is "designed that way". You can't remove the mistakes you've made or take back the damage you've caused in the past, but you can always learn from these things and try not to repeat them moving forward. And you can do that, even if the people you've hurt can't forgive you.

Your goodness as a person and your capacity to grow from past things is not defined by whether or not the people you've wronged can forgive you. These things are defined solely by the effort you're willing to put in, because nothing is ever set in stone. Brains are plastic and malleable. All destructive learned behaviors can be unlearned, given the right infrastructure and support.

The dreams of a normal life you had as a boy are not things that "can't ever be". You just have to be open to the possibility, and to make choices that will lead you towards that dream. You've got lots and lots of people who will help you along the way; you don't have to do it alone. You've got plenty of shoulders to cry on - at least 3, which is a lot more than what most have!!

As for what you're "supposed to be", that's also easy - you're supposed to be someone who eases suffering and brings beauty and light and love to the world in all the ways that only you know how to do. And that's it. That's all anyone is supposed to be. It doesn't matter how you came to be; you know what Mewtwo says - "The circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are." And it is true. What will you do with your gift?

You can change your destiny. You and lots of others have helped me to change mine. Maybe things didn't turn out in the typical way for you, and maybe the path forward seems hazy, but you can still make your own history; I am documenting the process of making mine with each letter I write to you.

Continue. Continue finding the best and most loving way forward, even when you don't know what it is, because you're more resilient than you think you are. The work of recovery is difficult and long and arduous, but it's worth it. It's so worth it. And waiting for you on the other side of it, when you're ready, are the hands and arms of countless people who love you - not for what you can do, not for the power you wield, and not for what you look like, but for who you are. For the person inside your heart. For the way you think and feel and react to things.

I'll be waiting for you to return to us, singing little lullabies as I always do. Because we miss you, and we're looking forward to seeing you again.

I love you. Please stay safe out there, okay? I'll write again tomorrow. I'm not ready for tomorrow, but I'm gonna try to make something good out of it anyways. I hope you'll do the same.

Your friend, Lumine

[ereborne]

Hello, happy holidays! For the End of the year ask meme if you'll like to answer any of the following: 8 (game of the year), 25 (a character you created), 14 (fav book), or 18 (a memorable meal)

Happy holidays! I hope they've treated you well <3

8: I don't play many games myself (only Stardew Valley, Minecraft, and silly seek-and-find puzzle games) and my laptop was too tuckered for games for most of the year, but even if I'd been farming nonstop I think the game of the year would still be Final Fantasy VII Remake. Pretty sure it'll be the game of every year until it's all out, and then maybe a couple years more for good measure. I am having such an incredible time following the game as it comes out and @kaylithographica plays through it, and I can't wait to see how Square Enix keeps going with the meta and story changes.

25: Some of the more complex edits I've been trying to work on this week actually revolve around a particular OC, so we'll talk about her. Her name is Mercy, and she was not supposed to be important (folks who have lived with me may be familiar with this refrain). She was supposed to be a filler character! She's an archetype! Her name is Mercy and she has none! Grr rar tragic backstory vengeance quest knife collection! But nooo now she's got layers. She's got depth. We're emotionally invested in her character arc. Damn it. Anyway she befriends her local main characters to use them as pawns in her revenge plot, spends a lot of time with them waiting for them to vouch for her to her target, gives up her first chance at revenge because she has to go save them instead (in a scene so terribly close to the classic 'stand at crossroad, look longingly at selfish goal down the left, turn back fully on goal to run to friends down the right path' that I may rewrite it to avoid cliche shame), and then eventually gives up her scheming entirely because it would be too much of a betrayal of her very best friends the main characters. She was supposed to die in the first rescue, and then the whole story locked up and I had to go back through trying to find the writer's block instigation point, and I realized I've made too optimistic a world to kill her off without friends or redemption. She's (big sigh) thematically significant now. At least she's also very cool.

14: I'm going with my favorite book that came out this year, to help narrow things down: "The Innocent Sleep", by Seanan McGuire. Seanan McGuire is one of my favorite authors and this is my favorite of her ongoing serieses, and usually we get one a year (usually just in time to be my birthday present to myself! a joyous coincidence) but this year we got two. "Sleep No More" and "The Innocent Sleep", paired stories, one from Toby's point of view and one from Tybalt's. The current state of their world means that these two POVs of the same happenings are wildly different, and it's fascinating (a little heart-wrenching sometimes) to see. Also, Tybalt and his friends dimension-door into Costco in the dead of night and steal all their catfood. It's amazing.

18: The vegeble man had a special on collard greens one time, and I bought a 'bundle' thinking it was your standard grocery-store greens bundle, a generous handful at most. It was more like an armful. Apparently the special was because they'd been sold a literal truckload of greens (perfectly good but disqualified as 'organic' by some neighbor shenanigans) and needed to offload them quickly because the fridge wasn't ready for such a bumper crop. I cooked them in batches with andouille sausage and bacon and just a touch of this amazing miso ghost-pepper hot sauce Duncan has, and we ate them for our next four meals (with grits, with cornbread and grilled tomatoes, with fried eggs and beer bread, and then the last of them mixed into red beans and rice). I really miss not just Southern food but access to Southern ingredients (the 'andouille' sausage I get here is pitiful, and bacon is no substitute for a proper salt-ham, and neither is beer bread always a good alternative to a buttermilk biscuit or quickbread) and it was so nice to have a proper mess of greens again.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Umm, do you have any headcanon on how Isaac Alesia, Jadu or Lance, or any bachelor/ettes from SVE or RSV, if they found a lost child? How do you think they would handle the situation? Honestly, I'd ask a lot of Isaac headcanons from you (because I need some and you always have the most interesting headcanons for him! And I love that a lot!! ♥︎), but I don't want to end up being an Isaac simp 😂 (or maybe I already am his simp lol)

This is hard, haha XD

First of all, thank you 🫶🫶🫶

Second of all, don't deny it, dear anon. Sooner or later, we'll all be Isaac's simps. Just like with Lance, you just have to give up 😅 I will make headcanons about three characters, because writing turned out to be much longer than I originally planned. Sweet Jesus, it's like a whole fanfic. If you like it and want to continue with other characters, feel free to ask again, I have so much with this ask ❤️

⚠️Warning: Mention of death, blood (this is all in Isaac's HC, so I warn you, it may be unpleasant for someone to read).

--------------------------------------------------

Isaac:

Maybe on first impression Isaac will show himself as a person who is not too tolerant of people, but he is the leader of the rescue expedition in Crimson Baldlans. A seasoned adventurer is constantly angry when he is given the next task to save a lost group of people or an entire caravan in the cursed sands. But he is angry not at the work itself, but at stupid and careless people who, because of their own greed or stupidity, lead not only themselves to certain death, but also others, sometimes their own family. Even an experienced monster hunter can hardly cope with corrupt mummies and slimes, then what can we say for ordinary merchants!

So, Isaac and two wizards went to Crimson Baldlans in search of the missing group. The magic signal for help was short-lived, but Camilla caught it somewhere to the west of the main entrance to Castle Village. Although the sandstorm was merciless, even this did not have time to cover up fresh traces of blood. Just a kilometer away, Isaac discovered bloody corpses: two young men, one middle-aged man (most likely the same unfortunate guide) and a young woman. The scarred adventurer had accumulated a couple of impolite words about them all, but he still decided that either good things were said about the dead or nothing. Therefore, he and his colleagues approached the bodies in order to move them to the village, identify them and bury them properly. What was Isaac's surprise when he found a child under the mother's body. And kid is alive! The little boy's tear-stained eyes looked at the adventurer with no less surprise, but he didn't make a sound. Apparently, this saved the life of the child, since the monsters simply did not notice him. Isaac shouted in the direction of two magicians to teleport the corpses, while he took the boy in his arms. A thin, quiet, frightened, but almost completely fine and lively child, he looks like a 4 or 5 year old...

Camilla, learning about what had happened, was terribly out of sorts. She didn’t even joke in her usual manner - she was so struck by this tragedy. While she was figuring out the details of what happened and who these people were, the child who was the only survivor was already snoring softly in Isaac's arms. The poor child fell asleep after the shock, and Isaac behaved very carefully, as if he was holding a crystal vase in his hands. He... was sad that the boy became a victim of careless adults (as it turned out, his parents and relatives, whom he now lost). Isaac didn't let anyone close to him and the baby for a meter, and asked Camilla where Sabrina, their local doctor, was now, so that she could examine the boy. The witch of the Castle Village just smiled softly and said where their healer was now.

Jadu:

In general, Jadu was a very rare visitor to Magnus's tower, but sometimes some issues required the personal presence of a wizard or adventurer. It's not that Jadu isn't happy with his colleagues, it's just that he still has a lot of work waiting for him in Castle Village, and he is in another part of the world, listening to Magnus' angry comments towards the amused Camilla (Jadu could guess this, because their meetings sooner or later move into the mainstream a la "Camilla's Entertainment"). Therefore, the young wizard went out into the fresh air when Magnus announced a short break. The rustling golden fallen leaves, the smell of mushrooms and wood, small squirrels and chipmunks hurrying to collect nuts before hibernation - it's so... memorizing. Time in Castle Village felt different, and even the evergreen part of the village could not convey the unusual beauty of the autumn forest. The people of Stardew Valley are very lucky to live in this place...

But Jadu's dreamy thoughts were interrupted by a child's cry somewhere in the depths of the forest. Curiosity got the better of him, and young Jadu went to investigate the source of the sound. Before the wizard had gone far into the forest, two small figures bumped into his legs, scattering a basket of nuts and a plucked clover, and knocking Jadu down. Jas and Vincent, too, at first did not understand who they crashed into, but behind the three of them a creature began to make sounds, from which the children ran away. A huge capercaillie, having lost fear and vigilance during the mating season, took the children as rivals, and began to pursue them furiously. As soon as the bird wanted to give a beating to all three lying people, Jadu quickly cast a spell in a unknown language, and the impudent bird ran away, hiding among the trees. Vincent, forgetting about the danger, began to ask "man in a funny hat" about this spell (" You can do magic!? Sooo cool!"). Jas told Jadu that they went into the forest (a little further from their home than usual) to collect the gifts of nature and surprise Miss Penny. But the bird noticed the children and began to drive even further into the forest where they lost theirs way, until they met Jadu.

The young wizard sighed tiredly and led the kids out of the thicket of the forest to the Magnus' tower, where the inhabitant of the tower himself was standing along with Camilla and a worried Penny. The young teacher immediately rushed to the children, listened to their and Jadu's story, thanked the young and brave man and left with two children in the direction of Pelican Town.

Jadu felt warm at the young (and attractive) teacher's praise. And, besides that, grateful Jas and Vincent left him some collected nuts and clover as a token of gratitude. Well, maybe meetings in Stardew Valley aren't so bad after all, and even Camilla with her biting comments won't ruin Jadu's day.

Jio:

Like in Pelican Town, tourists in Ridgeside Village is a fairly common sight, as village on the side of the ridge (Lenny is still thinking about the slogan, don't judge too harshly) has many things that attract a lot of people from big cities. And of course, many come with their families in order to arrange a family vacation. Sometimes the influx of tourists can be so large that half a minute is enough for a distracted parent to lose sight of their hyperactive child.

There was a similar case when one girl, who was chasing a beautiful butterfly and not noticing anything around, ended up in the Ridge Forest. The poor girl realized what a dangerous place she was in when she heard a bone-chilling howl from a ghost, a lost wandering soul. But before the ghost had time to fly up and harm the child, the evil spirit was dissolved in the air from one swing of the sword. The frightened girl saw a figure in front of her, whose body was shrouded in light smoke, and whose face was wrapped in a red scarf, only eyes and brown hair were visible. The figure looked at the child, who was about to cry. Jio sighed wearily.

"Children don't belong here, it's a dangerous place full of monsters. You could die." But the pointed-eared ninja stop lecture the girl, realizing that she was now too scared to listen to his words. "Hold my hand, I'll take you to your parents."

The girl hesitated for a moment, but still squeezed Jio's hand, and in the blink of an eye, she teleported near the Heaps store. Jio, however, was nowhere to be found. But the worried parents of the girl and Lenny appeared in the field of view. Lewis's sister, having learned about the missing girl, already wanted to call the locals for searching lost child, but breathed a sigh of relief when the parents saw their beloved daughter, hugged and kissed their little treasure. The girl was a little shocked, so she didn't tell right away about the stranger who saved her.

And Jio, meanwhile, was sitting on the roof of the Ridgeside Village Office, watching the family reunion for a little longer, sighed in relief and disappeared into the air. In the depths of his soul, he is very glad that he managed to save this child, because sometimes, such stories don't always have a happy ending...

[springtrappd]

an updated, straightforward guide to modding security breach and its dlc, ruin (including cheats!)

modding fnaf:sb (and by extension, ruin!) is actually pretty simple, but there's a tragic lack of comprehensive text-form guides that actually explain the process -- and a lot of scams out there. so! here's a straightforward guide to modding sb, allowing you to:

freecam

access the debug menu

access the game's console (and associated commands)

...and whatever else you wanna install later!

interested? hit the read more, and we'll get started!

(and if you already have modding experience, just skip to the bolded text for the core instructions)

unlike games like minecraft or the sims, sb doesn't allow the user access to its console (and therefore the ability to manipulate the game); it has no native mod support. this means that we need to modify the game's data to allow 1) mods to be installed, 2) console access and 3) restoring the debug menu. depending on what you want to achieve -- simple console access/freecam or loading mods/debug menu access -- the path forward branches a little. i recommend you do both if you want to bend sb to your whims!

part 1: freecam and basic console access

this process does not require any messing with game files, and is thus the easier of the two. since sb is made using unreal engine, by installing the universal unreal unlocker (or uuu), we can 'unlock' access to free camera movement and the game's console menu, allowing the input of various commands. the direct download link is [here].

it'll download as a zip file (UUU3021.zip). extract its content into a separate folder -- you can put it wherever you want, just don't leave it in downloads -- and run UUUClient.exe to open the program. it should look like this:

process refers to the game you're trying to modify by injecting the DLL into it. the dll we're injecting is the default one, so don't touch that; instead, we need to give it a game to manipulate!

now, open security breach. when security breach is running, select it as the process to be injected into.

then, hit inject dll.

then, just let it do its thing! depending on your hardware, it might take a second for it to process everything, but once it's done it'll give you a little pop-up letting you know it's active. if it doesn't work, try the usual troubleshooting gambit (uninstall reinstall, check you're hitting the right buttons, run program as administrator, ask reddit, etc)...

...aaaaand you're done! you can now access the console! it's bound to ` by default, but you can change that in uuu's configuration tab. it should look like this:

(note that it locks your mouse, so you can't move the player character when it's open!)

using this, you can input a whole bunch of commands, most notably:

toggledebugcamera (lets you unlock the camera from the player character. note that since they're still a physical object, they can still die!)

destroy [entity name here] (deletes the entity mentioned)

destroyAll StaffBotSecurityPatrol_C (deletes all security patrol staffbots! note that they respawn when you die or reload an area.)

summon [entity name here] (self-explanatory!)

viewmode unlit (turns off the lighting effects)

and that's it for method 1! if you want a more complete list of commands, you can find one here. if you're satisfied with this, you can stop here, but if you want access to more traditional 'cheats' (like modifying freddy's power level or triggering game events), we're gonna have to do a bit more. so! continuing on:

part 2: unrealmodloader and restoring the debug menu

this one's way, way more complicated. strap in, because we're about to start modifying the game's files itself. as a safety precaution, you may want to back up your save files to a separate location, in case something goes wrong and you need to reinstall the game again; steam doesn't support cloud saves for sb. if you're using steam, you should find them stored in your local files; the directory should be something like C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\fnaf9\Saved\SaveGames. copy those files somewhere else, and you're good to go!

2.1: installing uml

first, we're going to install unrealmodloader (uml); it's gonna let us modify the game's files on our behalf, which saves you a lot of time learning C++. the download link is [here], and you'll need to extract the file (UnrealModLoader_V2.2.1.rar), same as before. since it's a .rar file, your system probably can't extract it naturally, so you can just download something like 7zip. once extracted, it should look like this:

now, run the uml .exe and then run security breach (without uuu). let it do its thing. is everything loading? is the launcher running? good! as things are, we now have a mod loader without any mods to load. so, onto the complicated part:

2.2: editing local files

we're going to be adding kaydax's debug menu to the game. to do this, we need to mess with the game's files a bit. the file directories will be different depending on where and how you've installed the game -- that's what makes this complicated -- but what's inside them should be the same. if you mess up, just uninstall and then reinstall the game again; it won't affect anything that we've done up to this point.

first: download and extract fnaf_sb_debug_menu_unlocker.zip. (that's a direct download link). open it and find the paks folder. that's the only thing we need.

next, open the game's local files. you can do this on steam by going to its library entry, hitting the cog and finding 'browse local files' under 'manage'. if you're not using steam, just go wherever you installed it. it should look like this:

(note: fnaf9 is sb's name in all the files!)

move the paks folder into the content folder. if there's already a paks folder, move the logicmods folder inside it, and if that's already there, just transfer DebugMenu.pak in there yourself. maintaining the file paths is important; if they're broken, the mod won't work.

('coremods' is irrelevant to what we're doing. don't worry about it!)

finally, download the last bit of the debug menu mod from [here]. extract and open it the same as before. this time, we'll be transferring files into the Binaries folder.

move the contents of the Win64 folder (dxgi.dll and Plugins) into your game's Binaries folder. (you shouldn't have to overwrite any existing files, but my memory's fuzzy on that -- my bad! OTL).

and with that, you have now successfully installed kaydax's debug menu enabler! yippee!

2.3: a brief detour

i'm gonna be honest, this next bit's optional, but definitely something you should do for a smoother experience. kaydax's enabler is great, but it comes with some kinks -- like drifting while in flying mode, or not having any keyboard shortcuts. thankfully, this is easy to fix: just download kokosko's enabler [here] and place it in your paks folder. it should now look like this:

(chowda is ruin, don't worry about it)

congrats! there's just one more thing left to do:

2.4: steam settings

head to the game's entry in your steam library, open the Properties menu, and under Launch Options type -dx11. this makes the game open in DirectX 11, and it's likely to crash without it.

and with that, you're done! run uml when security breach is open, and you're ready to go. you can press f1 ingame to open the mod menu (you'll find the debug menu under logicmods), or (provided you've followed step 2.3) you can just press x. however, if you want uml to open automatically, well... yeah, there's more to do. so!

part 3: automating that shit

because nobody has the time for that!

this is technically explained within uml's files itself, but it felt wrong to not include it here. first, navigate to your uml folder, then from Tools to AutoInjector.

the readme.txt explains what to do, but if that doesn't make sense to you, here's the gist:

3.1: copying files

copy the contents of the AutoInjector folder (minus the readme) into sb's win64 folder, located inside the Binaries folder.

3.2: modify the .ini

open ModLoaderInfo.ini (now in your sb folder) using a program like Notepad. you should see something like this:

you need to change this address to the location of your UnrealEngineModLoader.dll. you can do this by navigating to your uml folder, right-clicking the file and selecting copy as path.

save the file and close it. when you run sb, the console should automatically open -- and all of your mods with it!

aaaaand congrats, you're done! you have successfully modded security breach. be aware that the game is extremely fragile and very prone to doing weird shit, so don't worry if it, uh, does that. you can find the ruin-specific part of the debug menu under the 'chowda' tab. (no, i don't know why it's called that. don't ask.)

have fun, and happy security breaching!

if you're interested in more mods to download, you can check out gamebanana or nexusmods.

huge thank you to jestxfot, kaydax and kokosko for their work! make sure to support them if you can. :) also feel free to contact me if anything messes up lmao i'll try to help as best i can

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 33: The Dark Waits

Here be spoilers! Not just spoilers for this whole book (they don't resolve every conflict in this one) but spoilers for the whole damn book series (at least some characters are definitely alive or dead by the end). If anything more explicit than my entirely unsurprising parentheticals would bother you, go read the books and then come back!

This chapter has another heron-marked sword icon, which is rather interesting this time around! Rand's sword is primarily a liability this time, something he keeps hidden from prying eyes now that he understands just how much it makes him stand out, but it's also something he won't let Mat take from him out of fear he'll lose his connection to Tam.

Maybe they were all townsmen and local farmfolk. Does that make any difference?

Rand is definitely succumbing to the paranoia of the situation. I wonder if the little tastes of the taint he's been getting are helping him along on that front, or if it's purely a natural reaction. It certainly is understandable either way.

Mat turned on the seat beside the farmer and leaned back until he found Rand’s eyes. The scarf that did duty for dust, when need be, shaded his own eyes, folded over thickly and tied low around his forehead.

God these scarves make everything confusing. So, chapter 31 started at the end of this three chapter sequence but Rand reflected on getting the scarves. We then jumped back to the immediate aftermath of Whitebridge when they did not have the scarves and continued forward in time through chapter 32 to the escape from Four Kings. Then (now) we've jumped a little forward, to when they do have the scarves, and will shortly be jumping back to where chapter 32 left off. They'll get the scarves then. At the end of this chapter we'll catch up to... *drinks*... the start of this chapter, and then we'll skip ahead to where 31 started the flashback.

I hope my explanation made sense of the chronology for anyone still confused though I fear the reasoning for this bizarre presentation of events in an order that Homestuck author Andrew Hussie would call "fucking needlessly convoluted" is lost to time if it ever existed at all.

“Queen’s Guards,” Master Kinch said around his pipe. He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Won’t go much further than Breen’s Spring, ’less they’re called for. Not like the old days.” He sucked on his pipe, then added, “I suppose, these days, there’s parts of the Realm don’t see the Guards in a year or more. Not like the old days.”

Understatement of the year. Master Kinch wasn't even alive the last time the Guards might have been in the Two Rivers! His grandpa may not have been alive then.

Rand wondered what Master al’Vere would say if someone told him the Two Rivers was part of some Queen’s Realm. The Queen of Andor, he supposed. Perhaps the Mayor did know—he knew a lot of things that surprised Rand—and maybe others did, too, but he had never heard anyone mention it. The Two Rivers was the Two Rivers. Each village handled its own problems, and if some difficulty involved more than one village the Mayors, and maybe the Village Councils, solved it between them.

Some - like myself - would argue that if the Two Rivers is so completely divorced from the realm that it is completely oblivious to its status, receives no benefits from it, and avoids the cost, that they aren't part of the realm, no matter what any old map says. They absolutely deserve their independence and it's a travesty they didn't get it. And yes, I'm going to complain about this every time it even tangentially comes up.

Makes me wonder though if there are corners of the other nations that are as oblivious as the Two Rivers to external affairs. I mean, Altara is obviously a state in maps only, but what about the others? Will they ever get their independence, or did the Dragon's Peace damn them to eternal bondage under monarchies that don't give a fuck?

“How would you know what Darkfriends look like?” Mat demanded. He backed away from the cart, and his hand went under his coat. “What do you know about Darkfriends?”

Finally, Mat's showing some paranoia that's actually alarming.

“Rand,” he said, “you won’t leave me, will you? If I can’t keep up?” His voice quavered. “I won’t leave you.” Rand tightened his grip on his friend’s hand. “I won’t leave you no matter what.”

Rand and Mat have a better-written romance than virtually every other couple in this series. Change my mind!

When he turned back, Ba’alzamon’s outstretched hand had become a fist. “You are mine, youngling, alive or dead. The Eye of the World will never serve you. I mark you as mine.” His fist opened, and a ball of flame shot out. It struck Rand in the face, exploding, searing.

I think on my earliest readings I assumed this dream of Rand and Mat's was supposed to line up with Perrin's somehow, but chronologically speaking it absolutely does not. Perrin's been captured at this point. I wonder if he is getting a dream at this point, or if his close association with the wolves led Ishy to rule him out.

“My eyes! Oh, Light, my eyes! He took my eyes!” Rand held him close, cradling him against his chest as if he were a baby. “You’re all right, Mat. You’re all right. He can’t hurt us. We won’t let him.” He could feel Mat shaking, sobbing into his coat. “He can’t hurt us,” he whispered, and wished he believed it. What protects you makes you vulnerable. I am going mad.

F- f- f- foreshadowing! Also more on the Rand/Mat front. These two boys are practically closer than Frodo and Sam.

“If I was a good man,” Mull said, “I’d offer a couple of lads soaked to the skin a place to dry out and get warm in front of my fire. But it’s hard times, and strangers . . . . I don’t know what you’re running from, and I don’t want to. You understand? My family.” Suddenly he pulled two long, woolen scarves, dark and thick, out of his coat pocket. “It’s not much, but here. Belong to my boys. They have others. You don’t know me, understand? It’s hard times.”

Damn these scarves. They're so poorly knitted they tangled up time itself!

The innkeeper was as clean as his inn, with a gleaming white apron around his bulk. Rand was glad to see he was a stout man; he doubted if he would ever again trust a skinny innkeeper. 

It's true, if you're skinny and in hospitality you're clearly evil! Or at least your establishment serves shitty food, and in a way, isn't that the same thing?

“Hey,” Mat exclaimed, “I can see!” He sat up on his bed, squinting around the room. “Some, anyway. Your face is still a little blurry, but I can tell who you are. I knew I’d be all right. By tonight I’ll see better than you do. Again.”

Enjoy it while you can, Mat, because you're ironically setting up your own injury later down the line.

Light, when I see Moiraine again, I’ll kiss her!

Ah heck, I'll ship this too. Rand's already canonically an easy lay, I'm just widening his net to obscene proportions.

“My name? My name. Ah . . .  call me Paitr.” His eyes shifted nervously. “Ah . . .  this is not my idea, you understand. I have to do it. I didn’t want to, but they made me. You have to understand that. I don’t—”

Paitr isn't quite the poster child for why being a Darkfriend doesn't pay, but damn if he's not going to be an effective demonstration. He's also not remotely competent, is he?

Paitr seemed to take the threat seriously. His face grew pale. “I . . .  I heard what happened at Four Kings. Some of it, anyway. Word travels. We have ways of hearing things. But there’s nobody here to trap you. I’m alone, and . . .  and I just want to talk.”

Dana from the TV show is kind of a mishmash of every antagonist on the road (especially since it's really clear that they'd hoped to have another episode for the travel but couldn't get it and had to trim even further). Where Paitr only hints at it, Dana's much more explicit: orders are being transmitted through the World of Dreams.

Maybe Paitr already knew about it; maybe Gode had told Ba’alzamon, and Ba’alzamon had told Paitr; but he did not think so. He thought Paitr had only the vaguest idea of what had happened in Four Kings. That was why he was so frightened.

In particular, I think Rand's suppositions aren't quite true here. Gode is dead and so not a useful informant; he's nowhere near connected enough to offer anything more than a few parting words on his way out the door. But I don't think all of Gode's men died and I do think they were all Darkfriends, so Ish was able to get a barebones account from somebody. However, either the witnesses wouldn't be able to explain much and Paitr is thus left with only vague impressions or Ish was able to piece together that Rand was channeling... leaving Paitr genuinely concerned for his life.

Images spun in his head. The Trolloc, Narg, leaping at him in his own home. The Myrddraal threatening at the Stag and Lion in Baerlon. Halfmen everywhere, Fades chasing them to Shadar Logoth, coming for them in Whitebridge. Darkfriends everywhere. He whirled, his hand balling up. “I said, leave us alone!” His fist took Paitr flush on the nose.

Rand's already got that tasty, tasty PTSD. Poor boy.

Twenty Darkfriends had held a gathering in Market Sheran. Men with twisted bodies, and the women worse, all dirty and in rags. They could make your knees grow weak and your stomach heave just by looking at you, and when they laughed, the filthy cackles rang in your ears for hours and your head felt as if it were splitting open. He had seen them himself, just at a distance, far enough off to be safe. If the Queen would not do something, then somebody ought to ask the Children of the Light for help. Somebody should do something.

It's terrifying that the tale grew this much in the telling and genuinely sad that the wagonwright is the sort of guy who would lie about being an eyewitness and want the Children to step in.

It's also funny because the Queen absolutely won't do anything about Paitr and the Children do.

From the way the serving maids scurried between the tables with harried looks—and the landlord, too—it was a larger crowd than they were used to.

Okay I don't wanna mention Jordan's gender norms every time they come up but in every town since Four Kings it's been serving maids and landlords. No dudes waiting tables on the road at all, nor ladies running the establishments. Not very equal! (At least the cooks have some variety; in Four Kings it was a lady but the one in this inn is a gent).

“Not a bit of it,” Mat said. He was trying to sound cheerful, but Rand could hear the hidden worry. “He was scared the other folk would find out there was somebody sick in his inn. I told him if he kicked us out, I’d take you into the common room. That’d empty half his rooms in ten minutes. For all his talk about fools, he doesn’t want that.”

This chapter shows what a beautiful friendship these boys have. They're all kinds of traumatized, including supernaturally, and here's Mat refusing to leave Rand's side or let him be denied shelter anyway. And since Rand's having his channeling chills just a couple days later, we're very close to his internal death clock going off - and frankly I'm not at all sure when he resolves it. No later than Asmodean's tutoring, I would say, but it's possible he'd figured himself out by Tear.

The night deepened, and the stable shifted in the flickering lantern light. Shadows took shape and moved on their own. Then he saw Ba’alzamon striding down the stable, eyes burning, a Myrddraal at either side with faces hidden in the depths of their black cowls.

Moiraine doesn't explicitly mention crazy hallucinations as part of the sparking process. Are they common, something unique to Rand's situation because he's sparking in such a miserable state of affairs, or something that's relatively common to dude sparkers because they're reacting to the taint on top of everything else? Is Ish reaching into his mind again? This is the first time that Rand hears the term "Black Ajah" - Elyas mentioned it once to Perrin, but otherwise the only color he's heard discussed is red.

“There’s nobody but us,” Mat said. “Here, let me take that.” He reached for Rand’s sword belt, but Rand tightened his grip on the hilt. “No. No. I have to keep it. He’s my father. You understand? He’s m-my f-father!” The shivering swept over him once more, but he clung to the sword as if to a lifeline. “M-my f-father!” Mat gave up trying to take it and pulled the cloaks back over him.

Mat must be so hella confused but he's just helping his buddy.

But the worst was Tam. Tam stood over him, frowning and shaking his head, and said not a word. “You have to tell me,” Rand begged him. “Who am I? Tell me, please. Who am I? Who am I?” he shouted.

This is more proof to me that Rand's in denial about his circumstances, with the fever dream showing his true state of mind. He knows he ain't Tam's biological son.

She was about the same age as Nynaeve, he thought, but she was no village woman. The pale green silk of her dress shimmered as she moved. Her cloak was a rich, soft gray, and a frothy net of lace caught up her hair. She fingered a heavy gold necklace as she looked thoughtfully at Mat and him.

You can tell that Mili isn't an Aes Sedai despite Rand's uncertainty by the way that she isn't wearing black despite being a Darkfriend. Made her very unhappy, not being able to channel.

Licking his lips, Rand stared at the tableau above him. Even if he had not been so weak, he did not believe he could have moved. Then his eyes fell on her dagger, and his mouth went dry. The wood around the blade was blackening; thin tendrils of smoke rose from the char.

So what's up with Mili's dagger? Is it a power-wrought weapon of some kind? I don't think it comes up again - the wiki doesn't mention it on Mili's page nor does it include it in a list of items with articles in the page for chapter 33 - but weird shit like this is supposed to be hella rare! I want to know more... I just doubt I will. Can anyone with an extraordinary memory for trivialities fill me in if I'm just blanking?

“She tried to kill me, Rand. She’d have killed you, too. She’s a Darkfriend.” Mat spat the word. “But we’re not,” Rand said. The woman gasped as if she had just realized what Mat had intended. “We are not, Mat.”

Mat being so blase about killing a woman must be the dagger's influence in much the same way that Rand's madness will lead to him killing that Darkfriend gal on the road in a couple books.

Also, while like most people I hate the "If you kill me you'll be just like me," trope, I'm absolutely here for the "If we kill them we'll be just like them" variant.

The man blew a streamer of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Going to Caemlyn, are you? Was your age, I expect I might be off to see this false Dragon myself.” “Yes.” Mat nodded. “That’s right. We’re going to see the false Dragon.”

Funny how it's a lie now but won't be a lie for Rand by the time all this is done.

In any event, this is another chapter done. Chapter 34 will finally have us resuming linear time, thank goodness. Damn those scarves!!!

[planets-and-prose]

Find The Word

I was tagged on this by @k-v-briarwood, thank you for the tag!

My words are: Leak, Beam, Favor, Neglect.

I'll tag @chayscribbles, @n1ghtcrwler, @bones-and-rainbows, if y'all want to, and anyone else who does want to :) Your words are: Blue, Rip, Shine, Blanket.

Since Continuing Education really isn't...written, I'm doing Signature Powers so we'll see if that half-done, swiss cheese manuscript pulls some decent quotes. These are...entirely unedited, but I'll provide limited context when appropriate.

Leak (AKA the two local aromantic enbys learn about queer-platonic relationships)

“We…slept together,” Vandita murmured. "Overnight." “It…looks that way,” Hikari replied, trying for a chuckle. It came out oddly forced. “And it doesn’t feel wrong,” Vandi added. They also looked shocked at this turn of events, and that brought Hikari at least a little bit of comfort. Thank the gods that they weren’t the only one out of their element. “No, it doesn’t.” Silence stretched for a moment as the morning sun leaked through the window, spilling shadows across the room. “So, we…should we talk about this?” Vandi asked, sitting up in bed. “Maybe? Yes. I think we likely should. Maybe you have more experience in this than I do?” Gods, they hoped one of them had experience.

Beam (Exposition, and allusions to me being unable to NOT have a shapeshifting character)

"Niko, if we don't find anything, it'll be fine. You've been helping so the pain isn't as bad, and I haven't shifted in quite some time. I could live like this easily. If we find anything, it'll be amazing, but we don't have to." "But you SHOULDN'T have to live this way! You shouldn't! Your damn contractor…" "…is just one of many contractors. I don't have it the worst, trust me. It's just how things are in a lot of places. I should have known better. I asked for power, and I signed a contract stating that that power had a price. Yes, I didn't know about the bone issues, but…I should probably have known. That's just the way it is. Contractors have and will do much worse." "But it just…! Ugh!" Niko huffed out a frustrated sigh. "Still. If I can help you, I will, so we're going to try. Besides, travel might be nice. You're so used to running around in the woods, hopefully it'll be good for you too." Rose beamed. "I have missed the woods."

Favor (In which Vandi and Hikari come back, and Vandi's pronouns are inconsistent because they're she/they and honestly I did this whole thing in a month for NaNo lol)

Hikari nodded and gave a sympathetic grimace. “Overprotective father?” “You could say that.” Thinking of their father, how angry he’d be…how he probably had half the army out searching for his two errant children…it was definitely something. But it was liberating to not be associated with her father for once, to not have to be royal or perfect or even have to worry about it. The only person who might know about their royal background was Gil, and he hadn’t said anything so far. It was probably alright. “Well, I’d better go check on Seri. She’s…having a rough time.” “She does have a lot on her shoulders, it seems. She’s not really letting any of us in.” Vandita shook her head. “She doesn’t really trust that easily, and I’m trying to get her to loosen up. But it’s definitely not working.” “Well, time’ll do it. Go take care of your sister,” Hikari told them with a reassuring smile. Vandita nodded and left Hikari’s chambers in favor of Serilee’s.

Neglect

Apparently I haven't used this word? Ever? I checked like four manuscripts...so either Scrivener hates me or I'm not utilizing that particular brand of angst enough. So I'm throwing in a random excerpt from SP that I Just Felt Like.

Codell turned his attention to his quilt, examining the bright patterns and the intricate detail. Now that he couldn’t hear or speak, he learned that his eye for detail improved markedly, giving him an ability to sew intricate patterns, distinguish between colors and fade one seamlessly into another in a way that seemed almost impossible to achieve with blocks of fabric. Living in silence gave plenty of time to recreate beautiful mountain views in quilted fabric, bringing an art that was once thought to be simply “homey” into an art form of its own. And if people managed to get past the stony exterior and the strangely all-knowing stare, they would have the opportunity to buy a truly resplendent piece of artwork. Yet few did, so often Codell simply sat, beneath an awning so as not to burn his fair skin, sewing in…well, it was always silence for him. But few tried to talk to him. Today wasn’t an exception, aside from the vision.

Thank you again for the tag!!