#Rest assured I will get into DETAIL as the story progresses

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part seven)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, pedro (srry he's a big part of this chapter)

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: hi everyone! I literally just posted saying idk when I would update again but I decided to look through what I had written for this part and give it to y'all. she's a short one but it's cute. somewhat proof read lol. enjoy <3

part seven: closing chapters

You’ve been back in Los Angeles for less than a day and you already missed the simplicity of being with Hugh. Los Angeles was reality and it was an ugly one. All of the responsibilities came tumbling down on you and you felt like you were stuck in an inescapable maze. As much as you wanted to stay hidden, tucked under Hugh’s protective arm forever, you had to be an adult about this. You needed to stop ignoring Ashley and talk things out with her. You also needed to talk to Pedro and close that chapter that had been left wide open. Your personal life couldn’t have picked a worse time to get interesting. Tour started in two weeks, leaving very little time to tie all loose ends before traveling the world.

When you landed this morning, you ate a quick breakfast from a small cafe and went straight to rehearsals. They ran longer today to make up for the few days you were gone but you didn’t mind. Being on stage and performing the music you worked so hard on always upped your mood, even if you were unbelievably tired at the end of the day. At the moment, you were laying in bed, trying your best to stay awake while you waited for Hugh to call. He texted you a few hours earlier saying he spent the day with his kids and talked to them about the relationship you two had built over the questionable short period of time. He didn’t go into any further detail but promised to call as soon as he got home and settled. It was a little past 10pm, making it 1am in New York. Just as you were beginning to lose hope in Hugh’s late night call, your phone lit up with Hugh’s contact. 

“Hi Hugh.” You say sweetly into the speaker, sleepiness evident in your voice. “Hi, baby. Were you sleeping?” The deep accent you adored so much rumbled through the phone. “No, I was just laying down. How are you? How was your day?” As you speak, you move to sit up, your back resting against the headboard. “My day was good. It was nice to spend some time with the kids and catch up. We did a puzzle and talked, it was a nice day. How was your day, baby?” 

“It was good, busy. Basically hopped off the plan straight into rehearsals.” You let out an airy laugh. “I’m sorry sweet girl, I should let you get some sleep.” His voice trails off at the end and you know he genuinely feels bad for calling so late. “No, no…it’s fine. I want to talk to you. I don’t start as early tomorrow so I have some time to sleep in.” You assure him. “Are you sure baby? We can always talk tomorrow.” “I’m sure.” You let out a small yawn and Hugh chuckles.  “Hm, if you say so.” 

“Whatever..” You say playfully. The line goes quiet for a moment, neither of you speaking. “So uh…you told your kids about us?” 

You wanted to ease into asking but you were dying to know. Thay had been the number one reason you’d been so hesitant to take on a relationship with Hugh and you know their opinion means something to him too. If they didn’t approve or had any distaste towards your pairing, you weren’t sure if you could be with Hugh without having a heavy layer of guilt strapped to your heart. 

“Oh yea, I told them.” 

His response makes your heart skip a beat. Hugh was never one to beat around the bush but he was dragging this out and it scared you. 

“And what did they say?” 

Hugh takes a sharp breath in and your heart falls into your stomach. They don’t approve, you can sense the words about to tumble out of his mouth. 

“They’re fine with it.” 

His short answers are beginning to irritate you a little bit. You needed to know every detail of their conversation, you wouldn’t be able to sleep without it. 

“Hugh, can you please just tell me everything? Your lack of words is driving me insane.” You draw out the end of the last word, showing him just how frustrated you are. 

“I’m sorry baby, there's not much to tell. My daughter is a fan and begged me to introduce you two and um…well my son…he uh..this is so fucking awkward…” He huffs. “What did he say? I’m sure it can’t be that bad if they’re fine with everything right? Just spit it out, I can take it.” He sighs. “My son has a crush on you.” 

“Oh!” You can feel your body heat up underneath your duvet. “That uh…that is kinda awkward. What did he say about us being together then?” 

“He said something about how he doesn't understand how I was able to ‘bag a baddie’ like you, whatever that means.” You laugh at that. “He’s not mad, just jealous I guess. I’m really gonna have to keep an eye out for him when you meet them. I trust him, he’s my son, but I’m not gonna stand for his eyes wandering on my girl.”

You laugh again, partially because of his words and partially because of how wild this entire conversation is. 

“Well I’d love to meet your daughter and she’s free to come to any show she wants, I'll get her in. Same goes for your son as well, if that’s okay with you. I don’t want you to get too jealous and cause a fight between you two.” You giggle through the last few words. 

“Yea yea, we’ll see.” 

The line goes quiet again, a comfortable silence. 

“Hugh, I have a question.” “Shoot baby.” You can hear the sleepiness starting to appear in his voice. “I was wondering if you’d be okay with me going to talk to Pedro soon?” You hear rustling on his end before he speaks again. “Why do you want to do that?” There’s a slight hint of anger in his tone but you know it’s not towards you but towards how Pedro treated you. “I really need to talk things out with him. As much as I'm over him, there’s still a little part of me that needs closure, that needs to ask questions. I want this part of my life to be done but I need to have it properly sealed off.” “Could you wait until I’m back in town? I trust you but I don’t trust him one bit.” You smile at his protectiveness. “I really want to fix everything before the tour starts. I need to talk to Ashley too and the sooner I can get over this, the sooner I can put all my focus on the tour and you. So unless you’re planning on being back in town in a week, I need to do this alone. Is that okay?” He sighs and takes a moment. “Of course that’s fine baby. Just keep me updated on everything that happens.” “I will.” The two of you talk for 20 more minutes before you both call it a night, ending the call with “I love you”. 

The next morning, you immediately texted Hugh before rolling out of bed and starting your day. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, and made your way to the kitchen. You opted for a lazy breakfast, too tired to do anything else. You popped a bagel into the toaster and fried an egg, laying a slice of cheese on top to melt. You made your little bagel breakfast sandwich and washed a few berries to go with it. 

While you ate, you scrolled through your phone. Hugh hasn't texted you back yet but it didn't surprise you. He was up late and with his age, he needed his sleep. You smiled to yourself as you thought about how peaceful he looks while he’s deep in sleep. While scrolling through instagram, you get an ad for Gladiator II. Your ex’s stupid hot face was plastered on your phone. You sighed and pulled up his contact. You were grateful you deleted the text thread you once had, you weren’t sure if you could handle seeing all of the previous sweet words he used to send you. 

You: hey p, it’s y/n. I was wondering if we could meet up soon and talk? no pressure :) 

Once you hit send, you locked your phone and slid it across your kitchen table. Your phone buzzed a few seconds later and your heart started beating faster…there’s no way he could have already responded. You reached for your phone, having to lift out of your chair slightly. When your phone unlocks, your heart slows down, it’s just Hugh. 

You texted back and forth with Hugh all morning until you pulled up to the Kia Forum. Tour was officially a week away from starting which meant you got to rehearse in the venue that would be starting the tour off. You’d been in the Forum a few times for various concerts but being here for your own performance was a different animal. Knowing that this place was sold out for you was wild. You caught up with all of your dancers, them sharing the same excitement. The energy in the building was electric. The crew was excited to get their creations in full and everyone was just happy to finally be starting. 

With being in a new space, the start of rehearsal was a bit slow. Lights, sounds, and various other things had to be adjusted now that everything was in full. You didn’t mind though. It gives you a chance to slow down and appreciate how far you’ve come. It was lunchtime and you decided to hide away in your dressing room to eat. A few people offered you to come with them but you really needed a moment to yourself. You were overwhelmed but in a good way. You grabbed some food from the catering someone had ordered, you made a note to yourself to find out who it was and thank them. 

Once you got to your dressing room, you pulled your phone out of your purse and scrolled through your notification log. Hugh’s messages were the first thing you saw. You were responding to everything he had sent when another message popped up at the top of your phone. 

pedro: hey y/n. I’m free today if you wanna swing by sometime? 

You pulled up to the familiar gates and typed in the code that was still etched in your brain. Once you parked your car in the semi circle driveway, you texted Pedro that you were here before taking a deep breath and stepping out of your car. It always looked out of place next to the large home, even more now that you didn’t belong here the way you once had. One of the brown French style doors open just as you're walking up the three concrete steps that lead to the entrance. You look up from your shoes. Locking eyes with Pedro, you feel your heart tense up. The pain of losing the man you had felt so deeply for re-entered your body involuntarily. He was wearing his typical casual attire: a pair of black cotton shorts, his beloved yellow lakers tee, and a pair of long black socks. The slight gray in his hair had begun to spread, the sides of his beard almost losing all color. He looked as handsome as ever. He held the door open with one arm, leaning slightly. A small smile rested on his face and his brown puppy dog eyes gave you the same feeling they had when you had first met him. 

“Hi y/n.” His voice sounded almost hesitant. “Hi P…Thanks for having me.” He backs up to let you inside. You slip your shoes off, like you had many times before. “No problem. I’m kinda surprised you wanted to talk to me, thought you would’ve been done with me after…well you know.” You don’t answer, instead you walk towards his living room and plop yourself down in the spot you had claimed many months ago, Pedro taking his own claimed spot not too far from yours. “It’s weird seeing you there again…missed seeing you here.” You sigh. “Pedro…don’t say that.” “Why not?” “You don’t get to miss me when you’re the one that left me. You hurt me P. Not the other way around.” He scoffs. “Sure didn’t seem too hurt to me. You moved on just fine.” “Can you stop being an asshole for two fucking seconds?” 

You wanted to come into this with patience and maturity but Pedro was making that impossible. He was being completely insufferable and had been since the moment he broke up with you, like it was somehow your fault. You missed the kind Pedro, the one you had fallen for. 

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? It took a month before you fell into someone else's arms, no let me clarify, my friend’s arms.” You could tell he was trying to get under your skin and you didn’t know where he gained this hatred for you. His voice was sour, a scowl present on his face. 

“God Pedro…” You sigh in anger. “Yes I invited him to the album party but he was there for me when you sat there and yelled- no embarrassed me at my own event. You don’t get to play victim in this situation. We weren’t together and hadn’t been together for weeks by the time I met him.” You could tell you were beginning to lose control over your emotions. The anger and pain both battled reaching for your throat begging to take control over your next words. 

His eyes go soft as he starts to speak again. “Y/n…I’m sorry about that, I was drunk and I-” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You know what? Fuck you Pedro. Truly. You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You broke up with me because the pressure was too hard on you. You come to my event and try to grab me, then you yell at me because Hugh came to check on me. Now you’re mad that I found someone that actually gives two shits about me, that isn’t afraid to deal with whatever comes with dating a younger girl? I’m over it.” You laugh again. “And now you want to apologize for that night when you’ve been nothing but rude since I sat on this couch? I came here for closure, nothing more. I liked you Pedro. I really really like you and you crushed my heart that night and every time I’ve seen you after. I don’t understand what I did to deserve this hatred that you’ve been throwing at me but it’s not fair.” 

Your anger had won the battle but your sadness would win the war. Your voice broke on your last words, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“It’s not fucking fair P…” 

You tuck your face into your sweatshirt, allowing yourself to cry in peace. Pedro doesn’t speak and the silence lasts for what feels like forever. You could feel a slight movement on the couch, then two warm arms wrap around your shoulder, a chin resting atop your head. The two of you stay like that for a while. You let your tears flood your cheeks until there aren’t any left. 

“I’m so sorry babygirl. I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.” 

You slowly pull your face out of the sweater. One of Pedro’s arms drops to rest on his leg, the other lay across your shoulders still. His water line was filled with his own tears, eyes red. 

“Then why did you?” He takes a moment to think and pulls you into his chest. Your head resting right above his heart, the beat a little faster than the one you had memorized. 

“Shit y/n…I know no matter how I say this, it’s gonna sound fucked up.” He squeezes his arms gently. “I was so scared, baby. When everyone started to form their opinions on us and kept pinning me to be some weirdo, I freaked out. I’m at the height of my career and I couldn’t imagine losing that…and you were right, I'm selfish. When I let you go, I immediately regretted it. I showed up to your party wanting to apologize. I had a few drinks, some liquid courage if you will, but damn baby, those fruity little drinks were a lot stronger than I thought they’d be.” You chuckle at the comment. “I was waisted by the time I saw you and when…Hu-...when he came to defend you, I lost my shit. I was so pissed off. Even in the state I was in, the look in his eyes was loud. He looked at you with so much adoration and I knew I’d already lost you.” 

He pauses. 

“I’m not trying to make excuses for myself, I just..I just want you to- no, I need you to know what happened. I’m sorry for being an ass today too. I guess I’m not over you and it hurts that you’re over me.” 

You look up at him. 

“I’m not trying to be mean when I say this P but it’s your fault. I could’ve loved you….I was falling in love with you. My time with you was special, so different than anything I’d ever felt before. I think we would’ve been good together. If you would have talked to me, maybe things would be different. You should have talked to me.” 

“We could’ve been the greatest?” He gives a lazy smile down to you and you look down in shame, wincing slightly. “You watched it?” You ask quietly. “Yea I did.” He pauses. “You sounded beautiful up there, you’re so talented y/n…even if it was so clearly targeted towards me.” The arm that's wrapped around your shoulder moves, his hand resting on your head now, moving in slow circles. 

“Would you ever give us another chance?” He asks, looking down at you. The hope in his eyes pains you. 

“I love him P…” You see the small glimmer of happiness drain from his face. You were feeling just as hurt, knowing that if Hugh hadn’t entered your life when he did or if you had talked to Pedro sooner, you’d give him another chance without a second thought. 

“Does he treat you good?” You almost scoff at the question, given who’s asking, but you don’t have the heart to be mean to him anymore. “Yea he does…” You smile at the thought of just how well Hugh does treat you. “Well, then I’m happy for you.” 

“Are you really or are you just trying to be nice?” You joke and he shrugs. “The latter but truthfully if you were going to be with anyone other than myself, I’m glad it’s him. He’s good.” He smiles down at you and it almost reaches his eyes. “Speaking of Hugh…you kinda owe him an apology, mister.” You poke at the side of his chest that you’re not leaning on. “For what? Stealing my girl?” His words make your tummy stir. “I wasn’t your girl anymore. You called him old and yelled at him. He’s your friend, so apologize.” 

“He is old.” You punch his arm and give him a look. “Ow..fuck. Fine, I’ll apologize but I’m not sure how buddy buddy I can be with him anymore.” “I don’t really care about that, as long as you’re nice to him.” 

He doesn’t respond. You spend a few minutes feeling the warmth of his embrace, it was something you were going to miss. As much as you loved Hugh, Pedro had been someone special to you and it hurt to let him go, even with what he put you through. 

“How much longer do my pictures have on your instagram before I’m replaced by Hugh?” He jokes and your eyes go wide. “Oh fuck me…” You had completely forgotten about the pictures that littered your page. “I will.” He smirks. “Shut the fuck up. I’m deleting them in front of your face just for saying that.” You whip out your phone. There are a few texts from Hugh on the homescreen asking how it’s going. “I’m surprised your guard dog let you come alone.” “Oh believe me, he didn’t want me to but he’s in New York and couldn’t stop me.” You open instagram. “And for that comment, I'm making you press delete on these. You can feel the finalization of us being over. Consider it punishment for being such a dick.”  He laughed and pressed delete on the first one. 

In the third picture, you started to regret this ‘punishment’. “We were a cute couple. You remember that one? That’s when you came over and we fucked like rabbits all week-” “Okay your done. Give me my phone.” You shove him away after and he lets out a deep belly laugh. The sound made you pause for a moment. This was the Pedro you had enjoyed being around. It was always so easy to joke around with him and be yourself. You would miss him. 

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

[concreteangel92]

Thou Shalt Not Kill - Chapter 9

AU Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Summary: Reader is a detective and is assigned to a murder case which she soon connects with previous killings and figures out the religious affiliation, proving there is a new serial killer within the city. Reader soon becomes obsessed with the killers mind and methods and won’t rest until she figures out who the killer is. All while she gets used to working with her new partner on the case, detective Noah Davis.

Warnings: talks of death, talks of murder/killings, use of religion, the starting of stockholm syndrome

Right, I really shouldn’t have to write this but I’m giving fair warning now!!

In this chapter we once again MENTION the passing of someone close to Noah (this AU version of Noah!) it’s been briefly used before and no one had any issues with it.

However I am aware of a lot of drama with another account who has used the death of someone who was close to Noah within their story. I’m going to clarify that I have not read this story, I do not intend to read that story and I have no interaction with this person anymore so I really don’t know the details or how much this trauma has been used but from what I’ve seen/heard, it caused a huge uproar.

My dad passed away 10 years ago, I fully understand the soul destroying pain and would never use something so carelessly! But it’s a huge detail that needs to be here. I can assure everyone that it shouldn’t be mentioned again (unless necessary!) and I hope it doesn’t cause any offence, I’m not going into details in this chapter at all, simply mentioning it to help the story progress.

I hope everyone can understand this and I really don’t want any negative comments, an adult discussion is fine if you really need to talk but not these petty trolls that I’ve been seeing please and no passive aggressive posts, they are childish, just message me if you have an issue

Thank you and I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: @Ima1986 @hayleylatour @reyadawn @thatchickwiththecamera @calleyx13 @english-fucker @darling-millicent-aubrey @malerieee @ithoughtbynowidfeelbetter @softvgold @lilhobgobbler @glccmreid @badomensls @madomens @loeytuan98 @iluvmewwwww75 @rosebushjhj @livingdeceasedgirl @lilrubles @samanthasgone @blackveilomens @hellayeahsworld @lookwhatitcost @doomhands-jr @nojoyontheburn @poisongirl616 @bakanerd @sacredthefran @flowery-mess

MASTERLIST

Chapter Index

9 days had gone by, just over a week you’d been stuck in this basement.

It was the same routine most days, Noah would bring you food or make sure a sandwich and drinks were left for you if he knew he wouldn’t be around, you assumed he was still going to work. Noah had mentioned it once that he was keeping up appearances but for how long was anyone’s guess.

Of course your work believed that you were ‘on leave’ so why would they be looking for you? You would have assumed someone would have tried to get hold of you by now but you were sure Noah has probably taken care of that, he was too smart to make any small mistakes and he kept any conversations like that to a minimum.

Noah had taken the time to bring a load of your clothes and toiletries from your apartment, clearly knowing you’d be here awhile. The days were very long at first, you had nothing to simulate your mind, you actually started looking forward to Noah coming in just so you had someone to talk too.

The times when Noah was here, he sat and ate with you normally, acting like you really were just two friends having a catch up, it was almost unnerving how normal it was.

The first few days you’d spent screaming out but no one heard or came, clearly he wasn’t lying about it being soundproofed. You’d analysed the room a thousand times, trying to figure a way out. The window was far too high for you to reach and even if you could, it was too small for you to fit through.

You’d tried to think of ways to over power Noah when he came in but thinking of all the cases and how strong he must truly be to have executed them, you knew that would be suicide.

Once you’d realised that all chances of an escape were slim, you started to accept your fate, you were completely at Noah’s mercy.

In a strange way, you almost relaxed after that, what was the point in stressing out about something you couldn’t change at this stage, you decided it was better to save your energy and strength for when you needed it, you were sure that an opportunity would present itself when the time was right.

The days had become very long after this however, you had counted every crack in the ceiling, tried to get lost in day dreams in your mind but that only worked for so long.

So now seeing Noah was a breath of fresh air within your day.

Noah had been nothing but the perfect gentleman, he made sure you had all the food and drinks needed, he even brought down fresh bedding for you and took away your dirty clothes to bring them back all clean and folded. He made sure you had clean towels for the shower room that was down here. It was almost like he took pride in looking after you.

“He’s holding you hostage you idiot! This ain’t a holiday hotel!”

Noah would talk about most things with you, he’d discuss history, music, art. He was actually so much more interesting and intelligent than you’d ever realised now you were seemingly getting to know him better, although he was very careful about certain subjects such as the case, work, etc.

Today you were lying on your bed, in your mind you were thinking about your favourite holiday that you’d been on, it felt like a life time ago now but you tried to relive it day by day, picturing that you were anywhere but here in this dark basement.

You heard the sound of footsteps so you sat yourself up, maybe a bit quicker then you should have. The door opened and in walked Noah.

“Afternoon angel, how are you doing?”

You decided to be honest with him.

“Bored, I’m so bored. If you’re going keep me here, can I at least have something to do when you’re not here! There’s only so many cracks around the room I can count before I’ve memorised them”

Noah smiled slightly as your attempt at some humour and nodded.

“Actually I’ve brought you some things today. I realised you must be bored with nothing much to do so I picked up some things from your apartment”

With that, Noah lifted up the bag he’d been carrying and he pulled out some of your books from home and an old radio. The gesture actually taking you back.

“I…uhh…thank you”

“Can’t have that brilliant mind going lazy on me now can we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh with him.

•••••

A couple more days had passed, very much the same as before but this time you actually had stuff to keep you occupied during the days.

Noah was still acting like this was a normal situation, there was no mention of the case or anything over the last few days.

There was one thing about the case that still bothered you however, something you hadn’t dared bring up to Noah incase it triggered a bad reaction. But today you decided you had nothing to lose by talking to him about it. So you waited until he came in with dinner for both of you and you were sat eating together before you approached the subject.

“Noah…can I ask you a question? I need to know something”

Noah’s brown eyes met yours as you clearly peaked his interest, he tilted his head as he looked over you.

“Depends what it is but go on”

You took a breath, moving your food to the side and you tried to make sure you worded everything very carefully.

“Your first victim, Anthony…who was he to you?”

Noah’s expression had become harder to read as he stared at you.

You watched him lick his lips before he answered with a small smirk.

“Still not figured that out detective?”

You shook your head.

“I didn’t really have the time….from what I read however, I assume he was the first. ‘Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven images’ but who was he to you? That kill seemed more….personal and it was….different….to the others”

Noah didn’t say a word, he simply ran his eyes over your face but you noticed the relax expression from before was gone.

“He’s a killer…not my friend”

He stood up from his position on the bed and paced slowly, almost like he was calculating his next words.

You felt every nerve in your body on edge, you knew the risk of pushing this man but you’ve done it anyways.

“Anthony Jackson was my first kill, and you’re right, he was different….more sloppy I’d say….I’ve definitely improved on my work since”

Noah stalked closer towards you so you made the point of standing up, mostly so he wasn’t completely towering over you.

“You really want to know angel? Very well. My first kill was the man responsible for the death of my father”

Your mouth fell open in shock at his words and you listened intently to what he had to say.

“After all those years of never knowing who was responsible, when I became a police officer I managed to do some digging and I eventually found him” Noah’s face became very hard as he carried on. “It wasn’t easy, but when I realised it was him, I knew I couldn’t let him go. Would you believe that Anthony was a religious man? And yet he got away with murder, it wasn’t fair that he ruined my life and just carried on living his unpunished!”

Noah was stood in front of you now but you didn’t move away, you now understood, you understood why he started this in first place.

“You said you were raised religious…did you stop believing the da…that day?”

“Yes. I knew that there was no such thing as a god if he could take everything away from me”

You nodded as you took it all in, still be very careful not to provoke him.

“I didn’t do anything for years and years, but once I found him, I knew what my purpose was. As I said, I’ll admit it was more sloppy but that’s what they call a ‘crime of passion’ after all”

You were still putting all the pieces together within your mind, all of it was truly starting to make sense now…apart from one thing.

“If he was ‘thou shalt not make unto thee any graven images’ then why his heart? I can understand the fact he was religious but had murdered someone, from the crime scene photo I saw in that email, I could see religious items in the background. But I don’t understand why the heart was your main focus?”

Noah couldn’t seem to stop the sinister smile from spreading on his lips.

“He ripped my heart out so I simply returned the favour”

The memory of your own dad’s passing suddenly felt so fresh in your chest. You couldn’t help but reach your hand out to touch his, the action causing his eyes to follow your movements, clearly not anticipating it.

“I’m so sorry”

For a brief moment, you actually thought you saw genuine emotion in his eyes at your words. You understood the pain of losing a father young and in such a cruel way.

“He was the beginning of my work, it was poorly executed, but it was what gave me my inspiration, to send a message in the most profound way possible and I’ve nearly done it”

Noah raised his hand to your face and ran his fingers over your cheek gently.

“The thing is angel, we are the same me and you, you get me, you’re the only person on my level. You’re just like me”

Your brows scrunched together as you took in his words, in some ways, you knew he was right but the other part of you knew you shouldn’t listen.

“You know I’m right, even if you try to deny it”

You subconsciously leaned your head into his hand as you mulled over his words. You both had gone through terrible things in life, no one really understood you, especially at work. Noah always believed in you, he knew you could do the job better than most.

Looking up you noticed he had his shirt unbuttoned and his tattoo across his neck was on full display, it was then when you truly noticed the religious symbolism.

Without thinking you brought your hand up to his skin and traced the ink with your fingers, hearing his breath catch slightly as you did.

“Easy angel”

You looked back up into his eyes to see they had dilated, your fingers rested on the side of his neck, your stomach twisted in knots. You didn’t even really know what you were feeling as it was all mixed up together in your mind.

Noah leant his down to you and pressed his lips against yours, he was gentle at first but when you didn’t immediately pull away, his other hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled your body against his.

“Wrong, wrong, so very wrong!”

Noah pulled away, his hands still holding onto you as he stared down at you.

“I shouldn’t be doing this”

Noah smiled at yours words and started to stroke your hair before he pressed one more kiss onto your lips.

“Says who? I am starving, you’re starving. I can taste it on you. Who says this is wrong?”

You continued to gaze up at him, your mind in complete overdrive.

“I…I can help you Noah”

“I really wish you could angel”

And with that Noah turned and walked out of the room, the locking sound ringing in your ears.

Chapter 10

[barrenclan]

hi!! I absolutely love patfw, and blacknose is one of my favorite characters. I work with dementia patients, and I can assure you that your research paid off and your portrayal of her is very accurate and respectful. it’s nice seeing a character be so humanized (even tho she’s a cat lmao) and given many different dimensions when so much media falls into inaccurate stereotypes. thank you for taking the time to do her story right :)

one ask about her once said that she’d forget mallowstar after he died and the remainder of barrenclan fled the wastes, but (no shade to this person, it’s a common misconception) this isn’t entirely accurate. a lot of people with dementia, even in later stages, still remember key details about their lives. they remember where they used to live, what they did as a career, and important people they knew, but forget that they don’t live/work there anymore or that those people may have passed a long time ago. I know residents at the memory care facility where I work who spend a lot of their days in a daze, have prominent physical or vocal tics, and frequently get agitated at the workers or other residents, but are still able to tell me all about their spouses/children/siblings/etc.

essentially, the more accurate way for this to impact her dementia would be for the severe psychological distress of defiance’s attack to cause her dementia to rapidly progress, leading her to become confused and scared on the journey and at wherever they may settle when she isn’t sure why she isn’t in barrenclan’s camp or where mallowstar is. I’m intrigued to see where things go from here and how the surviving members of blacknose’s family and the rest of barrenclan handle this in the midst of everything else they’re dealing with

Wow, thank you for sending in such an interesting and informed comment! I'm so glad that my writing holds up, and I'm especially glad I managed to nail the aspect of Blacknose's progression in her memory loss after Mallowstar's death. I don't exactly remember the ask you mention, but I did never intend for her to forget about him entirely, but instead to forget what happened to him and why he's not here, like you can see in Issue 40.

Blacknose will not disappear from the story as it closes up and I'm looking forward to getting to the last bits of her tale. I hope you like it!

[soapoet]

Quick energy reading #0613

these energies would not let me chill so...

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: More than you know by Axwell & Ingrosso

You're not losing it, I promise. If someone's been on your mind a lot lately, you've been haunting them, too. And for the few of you where this is less about a specific person and moreso a goal or concern that just will not let you think straight and be present, rest assured that you can release your worries. Just let go. Attract, don't chase. What you want wants you. You really shouldn't be reading this either to be quite frank, because it seems as though you are running around aimless in the woods looking for signs that you're not going crazy. In which case do take this as your final sign that yes, what you feel in your heart to be true is correct. Those of you awake at night tossing and turning because you're awake running marathons in the dreams of another, know that they can barely focus because of you. It is as though half of what you feel when you quiet down is from them, and they can feel you in their energy, too. Your energies have a magnetic pull where you're both constantly in each other's peripheral, lurking like a predator watching its prey. It's not toxic, though, just a little obsessive. They want to see you and be with you, and the distance is making that gravitational pull so much stronger, leading to that addictive nightwatch. Good news and developments are on the horizon, and things will get moving very soon. The barricades put up by you or them or life circumstances are coming down, and quite abruptly at that. This is something that simply cannot be stopped and is inevitable. Sparks are already flying and it'll only get warmer from here, and this is a fire that will continue raging once it starts burning in earnest.

02.

Shufflemancy: Slump (English ver.) by Stray Kids

I don't know what you were told growing up, but if you have too much on your plate it's okay to leave the table and come back to it later. Don't judge yourself if you've bitten off more than you can chew either. Take things one step at a time, and go at exactly the pace you feel comfortable with right now. That pace is bound to change, and it'll change frequently, in fact. Your 100% looks different every day and that's okay. Don't measure your own progress with someone else's ruler. Silence the distractions and the noise and get away if you need solitude. Taking time for yourself does not make you selfish. Anyone who gets upset when you set boundaries would not have respected them anyway had they been there all along. Don't scrap your ideas, finetune them. Start over if you have to, but your previous efforts have not been in vain and can help direct your focus. Every time you tell a story, details change, but because you know the gist of it, things get better and more elaborate each time and gives you more fluidity. Use your ideas and previous attempts to better prepare for a new beginning. Stopping isn't giving up and square one isn't an enemy, but a teacher. In terms of love you may find yourself in separation of some kind. Perhaps you're not seeing eye to eye or there has been distance, or even radio silence, between you. I wouldn't worry too much about it, however. Your inward focus makes you more magnetic and what is for you will use that as a guiding light to come to you.

03.

Shufflemancy: You by Tornike Kipiani

Time for some spring cleaning? Alright. If there is something you need to discard that no longer serves you, do it now. You've been thinking about it for a reason. Life is not a game of chess, so stop overthinking things. Your need to perfect the outcome is leaving you at a stalemate when really you should be moving forward. Do what you want to do and say what you want to say. Don't put up with the status quo or let outside circumstances restrict you. Things will work out in your favour if you just stop white-knuckling the reins and follow your heart down the path of what you desire. The light at the end of the tunnel is not as far away as it seems. I'll have to tell you the same thing I told pile 1: what you want wants you. If you have set your sight on something, or someone, they very much have their eyes on you too. Circumstances may appear too difficult, or even inappropriate, to allow a pursuit, but between consenting adults, who's really to say what you can and cannot do? The same applies to goals, too. If something appears like a distant pipe dream, it's not the circumstances that need to change, but your mindset. And if you've been telling yourself what you do and do not deserve, remember that harsh criticism and narrow boxes that do not fit quite right hurt for a reason. If you're disappointed with what you have, try something else. Telling yourself you can't have it hurts because you know in your heart that you can but the wires between head and heart are faulty, disconnected perhaps, and you're only hearing the voice of the critic and the hater, not the hypeman and the lover.

[bluedabadeedabadie]

https://www.pcrf.net/news/pcrf-s-urgent-gaza-relief-food-parcel-initiative.html

Opening writing commissions! Donate to any of the initiatives here^, or to any of the fundraisers I've reblogged, message me your idea, get something out of it too.

Proof I can write prose, if nothing else:

Why do I do that? Just hoping it can give people one more reason to donate. You are helping people in need and get some of your school work or an email you've been putting out for forever taken care of or just a silly little story out of it. And you donate the money yourself, so you can be assured they're going where you want them to.

So how does it work?

1. Pick a GoFundMe and donate a minimum of 10 USD *

2. Send me a screenshot as proof (no personal data, I feel like this goes without saying but better safe than sorry)

3. Pick one of the following:

- short original story

-short story using your world and characters

- fanfiction one-shot**

- an oratory piece on a given topic

- an essay

- a school assignment

- up to five official/business emails***

4. After you DM me we can discuss details like when you can expect the finished piece, what you want it to be like, etc. Do let me know if you want to get updates during the progress before you get the final product.

DISCLAIMER: Expect an initial reply in an about 24-hours window, but keep in mind I am a college student so I apologise for the iffy replies.

PLEASE read the clarifications under the cut:

* If you can't donate 10 USD, that's alright. Donate what you can and I will fill the rest. However, that's the preferred amount.

** If I am not well-versed in the fandom I might either turn that down and offer for you to pick something else or need additional time to make myself semi-familiar with the characters.

*** I myself am an introvert and know how daunting emails can be, which is why that's one of the options. Please don't send me any private information about you or the receiver (like names, addresses, company names, etc.), I will add blanks for you to fill. I feel like it goes without saying BUT I feel like it's still important to mention.

Edited on 05/09/2024 to include more options for donations and better reflect on my availability.

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

Sending love to one of the best writers on ao3 😘💕 I check your page frequently and wanted to ask about the things that you enjoy doing or aspire to do

Hi Anon, it's so sweet of you to send this ask to ask after me. Rest assured your words are appreciated on this end; thank you from the bottom of my heart and top of my soul 🫂 I'm very glad you think highly of my work even after so long, and I'm so so sorry I haven't had any new content in such a long time. But I am hard at work on a oneshot that will definitely be published before the next chapter of Samarra, so the well won't stay dry for long! The summary is “A jaded prison nurse must come to rely on a man she hates and fears in the midst of a deadly prison riot.” I started writing it in the ward; it's based off of the Moundsville Penitentiary which is an especially spooky place I've been to–an old 19th century prison made of towering stone turrets, eerie high ceilings, and rusted iron cells packed together like pigsties. I'm hoping to get that atmosphere across; it's about ⅔ of the way finished so good progress is being made!

Well I enjoy writing, most of all, but I've already talked about that in detail a thousand times so I'll spare you. I love reading, of course (I just finished “The Five”, about the victims of Jack the Ripper, and it's a fascinating bit of history and an incredible and horrifying look at Victorian-era industrial Britain). I love exploring the mountains with my cats trotting along beside me and photographing what I find. In all honesty I'm a bit of a trappist–I rarely see people except hunters and cashiers, and most of my time is spent alone with myself or my dad. But each day is an adventure when you're in nature and each season brings primordial and beautiful changes– I collected watercress the other day and found the downy remains of a fawn. 

I love watching old movies. My dad and I were watching Laurel and Hardy last night and I swear it holds up a century later. Before that we watched King Rat, which is one of his–and my–favorite movie; about two men stuck in a Japanese prison camp and the Machiavellian and underhanded ways they survive there. The book is particularly good too, and the epilogue about rats devouring each other has haunted my dreams for a long time. 

On the same subject, a series that I highly recommend is called Tenko, which is very similar to King Rat, except the prisoners are women. It's so grueling, realistic and enrapturing; I've never seen anything that so squarely focuses on women's experiences, relationships with each other, the hardships they face, and how they struggle to survive together in a thankless, deprived environment. The backstabbing and despair that comes in their darkest moments, the love and support in which they uplift each other with, their mistrustful and uneven relationships with their captors that occasionally erupt in friendships and affairs–and all the episodes are on dailymotion, too!

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x74u4fi

I like dreaming most of all. So many of my story ideas come from my dreams. The worst thing in the world is waking up and trying to catch the stray strands of the dream slipping through your fingers. It's amazing to live so many lives–good or bad–inside your head. Sometimes when I wake up, I feel a sweeping, palpable sense of relief that I don't live in the world I conjured last night, and sometimes I wish I could just claw myself back into my brain and live in that little pocket world for the rest of my life.

I do not aspire to much. I don't really have any base wishes but to keep writing and live til 70. We all have our hopeful fantasies, of course, and when I finally do get Ragnatela on Amazon Kindle (Microsoft Word is trying to swindle me out of one hundred and fifty American dollars to use their dogshit platform, and since the manuscript is half-edited, I'm afraid to lose my formatting if I switched to a free program like Libreoffice) maybe it will get some attention. 

I still intend on writing on Ao3 until the day I die, though. Even with its unsavory content I have such a soft spot for its unrestricted freedom of speech and prose. Plus I don't want to give up talking to you guys and goofing off in the comments ☹️ I also aspire to stop drinking. I'm sure I've already shaved a few years off my lifespan with my tippling habit. But when one day is much like the other, is there much point in extending it?

I aspire to travel around the United States more. I took a trip through the Deep South to visit Savannah and it was enrapturing; something I will remember for the rest of my life. Rusted-out cars felted in green moss, skinny, grazing horses in windswept fields, peeling roadside signs advertising tent revivals, clownish golliwogs behind still windows of cafes, forgotten tugboats half-sunken into lagoons, highway strip hotels where craggy hookers peered at you suspiciously from their fold-up chairs, and derelict cemeteries separated between Union and Confederate. It was just post-Irma and we were often the only tourists at any of these places. The effects of the hurricane were stark and obvious, with the land in a state of shock before any official agencies came to clean them up. I remember boats crashed into the harbor and grandfather trees felled in front of opulent antebellum homes, and the sea churned brown and murky when we trekked to the beach. The sense of desolation, and not only from the hurricane, was chilling–but I loved being there and loved being swathed by the kudzu and history. My mother is very ill and before she dies we might make up briefly and take a trip to New Orleans together and explore rural Louisiana; I'd always wanted to write a story set in New Orleans. Louisiana is a fascinating state with its mixture of Napoleonic and Creole influences; and I've always been drawn to the grand, decaying tombs of New Orleans as much as I have been to the odd Francophone swamps and their hidden dialects and traditions. And one day I would like to go way, way out west and explore the Gold Rush ghost towns. All the mines where I am are filled-in, so I would like to venture underneath the earth just once. 

Most of all, I aspire to be alone, and live by myself for the rest of my life, far away from town, somewhere in the mountains like where I am now. I wish I didn't have to see another person for the rest of my life. Being alone with myself is bad enough, being with others is intolerable.

Anyways, I apologize for my undue pleonasm, you caught me in a chatty mood 😀 Here's an excerpt from the newest prison one-shot:

Rhoda had met Jesse Fitzner her first day on the job. It was midway through her shift, and she was taking a lunch break and grading her sister Sherise's homework in her office. The day had started with a white-knuckle ride in early morning mist so thick she couldn't see the taillights of the car in front of her. Midway through her preliminary tour of the prison, an inmate had stuffed his toilet full of socks, which promptly overflowed and leaked sewage out of the cell onto her high heels. The hoots and jeers had made her speed up, trying to avoid the leering eyes of her future patients. And her introduction to the mental ward, by a younger but just as pessimistic Fawna, had not lifted her mood any either.

So there she sat in her office, snatching a moment of calmness and frantically scribbling corrections over Sherise's homework before her sister turned it in tomorrow. And then the door swung open.

A blond man poked his head in and briefly raised his eyebrows. He was wearing the omnipresent, drab gray prison uniform, pants and a sweatshirt rolled up to his elbows. "What are you up to?"

She flipped the cover of the notebook over.

"Going over my sister's homework. Is there something you need?"

"Passing on a message to Nurse Judson. One of the inmates wants to switch his blood pressure medication."

"Oh, she'll be back soon. I think she's–doing something with the prisoners. Just give her a few minutes."

"No hurry." He pulled the chair opposite her and sat down in it. "So you're grading your kid sister's homework? Shouldn't she be doing that herself?"

The man had thick blond hair that stuck up in back like a duck's tail, and very rosy cheeks. He looked like he had just shaven, by the nicks on his neck. 

"It's a long story. I should be–"

"I've got time. If this is your first day, you need to take some time to yourself to relax--else you'll end up in the infirmary."

Rhoda laughed. He had a nice smile and a nice manner about him–very jovial and friendly. It was refreshing to see a man who didn't stare at her like she was a piece of meat. "Well, my parents died when my brother and I were still young. Seth was seventeen, I was fifteen. He went to work so we didn't have to break up the family, and I stayed home to care for my little siblings, all three of them. It wasn't fun. I always wanted to do more for them than what I was stuck with, so I'm making sure they get good grades and go to good colleges. That's why I got this job in the first place, to put some back for their college funds."

"That's real decent of you. I don't know a single woman who would go so far for their family. You'd best be proud of yourself. Where's your brother now?"

"He's working out of state in Pennsylvania. He found a good woman and has a concrete contracting business now."

"You got yourself a man?"

"Never saw the need. Someday, maybe, when I'm lonelier."

"Working here for a few years will train that loneliness for a man right outta of you." 

They both laughed at that, and Rhoda felt her tensed muscles begin to relax. "I didn't catch your name."

"Jesse Lee Fitzner." He reached across the desk to grip her hand. For being such a small-built man, he had a crushing handshake.

"Rhoda Ames. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I knew a few Ameses when I was on the outside. Where your folks from?"

"Beckworth, west of here."

"Oh, you're bullshitting me. I have folks from there too. You don't know a Harry Fitzner, do you?"

"Harry who used to run the car repair shop?"

"That's him! My uncle. He retired a few years ago. His lungs got to him. Too much time in the mines."

The door slammed open again. An elderly prison guard, who had greeted her rather abruptly upon her hiring and who had a hard and wrinkled face, was standing in the doorway. When he saw Jesse, his face grew harder. "What are you doing here, inmate?"

Jesse raised his hands, still not moving from where he was leaning back on the chair. "Just dropping off a message for Nurse Judson."

"Next time, leave the message with Nurse Ames and promptly return to your cell. There's no reason for you to be here actin' so friendly."

To Rhoda's mild disappointment, the guard grabbed Jesse by his arm and yanked him out, harder than he needed to. Before he was escorted out, Jesse tossed a glance over her shoulder and winked at her. "Rhoda, you're a young lady, and I'm a bit of a spring chicken myself. I think we would get along real well outside these walls."

Rhoda couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up from her throat. She felt lightheaded. She was a rangy and abrupt woman with a working tan, and hadn't much experience with men flirting with her.

When Jesse was marched out, Rhoda stood up and grabbed her peaked nurse's cap, girding her loins for the next shift on the ward. While she was counting medications, the elderly guard–Miles–came in again and shut the door behind him. She flinched, expecting a dressing-down on her first day of work. I wasn't fraternizing with the prisoner, was I? Am I… am I gonna lose my job?

He sat down opposite her. "You ever hear that tale 'bout the lady and the snake?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

"Old story; old, old story. One of them Aesop stories they wrote when people was still in togas and carved words in stone. A woman was walking home one day when she saw a frozen snake lying on the side of the road. It begged her to save its poor little self, this little creature of God. So taking pity on it, the woman brought it home and warmed it by the fire between her breasts. And as it thawed, it bit her breast. 'Oh, why would you do such a thing? Your poison will kill me,’ she wailed. And the snake smiled and said, 'You knew I was a snake before you brought me into your house.'"

Rhoda stared at him, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"You know what that fellow did to get in here? Fitzner was top dog in a motorcycle gang outside of prison. A real nasty one. He ordered a contract killing on a rival gang member. They snatched the poor fellow when he was leaving a bar. Hung him from a tree, broke his legs with doublejack hammers, used him as target practice with their sawed-offs, cut his dick off and shoved it in his mouth, then left and let him choke on it and bleed to death for the rest of the night. He was out, too, far out in the mountains, and they only found him weeks later when a hunter stumbled on him. One of the killers snitched on Fitzner in exchange for dropping a drug felony sentence he was staring at. That snitch went into hiding and changed his name. Two days after Fitzner was taken to this good penitentiary, he was found with his head beaten in, in a dry creek bed."

Rhoda's head began to spin in slow whirls. Her hand where Jesse had shaken it grew very clammy. She remembered his bright smile across the desk, his dark eyes, and felt bile and vomit churn in her throat.

"You both were talking for a while, I noticed. He's good at prising information out of people, Fitzner is. A boyish smile and a few good words and he can make both men and women melt like butter on yer tongue. See? Now he knows who you are, and where your folks live. Now he can get to you."

Rhoda tried to talk, but her tongue was paralyzed. She looked down and wiped her sweaty hands on her knees.

Miles got up and went over to the door. He looked out of the window set on top, and his hard face relaxed. He seemed much older in that moment, more wrinkled and exhausted.

"You'd best be careful of him, Nurse Ames. He's a bad 'un. I'll be glad to see the back of him."

As it turned out, Miles retired later that year and it was Jesse who saw the back of him. 

And Rhoda became very wary of him from then on. Whenever he saw her in the hall, in the chow line, in the infirmary, he smiled at her and tried to make small talk. She ignored him, or was curt with him.

Unfortunately, he seemed to take that as an invitation.

[shelterwoodpod]

Mid-Show Update!

Cross-posting this here from our Patreon~ Link and text below the cut:

Hey there folks! Just a quick update as we head into our planned mid-show break. We will be taking our next release date off to give the sound team (Stephen, Brad, and Sam) a chance to stay ahead. Instead, we will be releasing a feed drop from our friends over at The Sheridan Tapes; the Sheridan Tapes crew and the Shelterwood crew have a goodly amount of overlap, and I've been incredibly lucky to observe their production process during later seasons. You're not apt to find a more well-oiled machine in the audio fiction space, and that level of attention to detail and care shines through in the finished project. If you haven't heard the show already, you're in for a treat!

Next up, some brief sentimentality. I have been absolutely blown away by the response to this show so far, and I cannot wait to show you all the chaos and horror to come. This show started out with me wandering around my neighborhood late at night during early COVID lockdowns - in fact, for a while, the show was going to be semi-improvisational, with me going out and exploring real ruined and decaying structures while supplementing what I saw with Blair Witch or Marble Hornets style fake clues that something was very wrong. On an old phone (sadly lost to history) I even recorded some demo tape, exploring an abandoned house near Glen Echo Park and generally freaking myself out. Needless to say, the show has come a long way since then!

So what have I learned from the first half of the show coming out? Well, I've learned that people will absolutely follow you to strange and dark places if you're brave enough to lead them there. It's been delightful reading peoples' theories and reactions, and especially the responses to the themes and motifs in Shelterwood. I'm a writer who spends a lot of time really considering what the metaphors and symbolism in my work do, so it is deeply gratifying to see people all over the world lend their thoughts!

Lastly, I wanted to let everyone know what our plan is for this Patreon as the season progresses. We will continue to release early and ad free episodes for supporters, going out the weekend before the episodes drop for everyone else. We are still working on setting up a proper RSS feed (my sincere apologies for the wait on that), and after the season ends, we hope to release a series of "directors commentary" versions of the season, with important cast and crew sitting down and going over the unique stories, challenges, and surprises that came with producing every episode of Season 1. Rest assured, I am hard at work writing Season 2, with four or five episodes in their first drafts and many more marinating in my brainpan, waiting for their turn.

Making podcasts, as it turns out, is hard! Your support is deeply, deeply appreciated. We do it for you.

Onwards and upwards,

Stephen Indrisano

Writer/Creator of Shelterwood

[starbornsoulrider]

some more new story quest ramblings + ideas for how Halo's character is gonna progress from here

so. Halo gets transported to Cape Sorrow, collapses into the sand and immediately has a panic attack about Darko returning, about Elissa, about Maya, everything. they relive the visions they've been having about the soul riders failing to stop Garnok and losing all their friends, and slowly but surely Buddy pulls them out of it.

then they kinda... pace around cape sorrow aimlessly for a bit. Buddy and Timber just watch them as they mutter to themself, unsure of what to do or how to comfort them. eventually, Halo comes to a stop and just stands at the shore. Buddy awkwardly comes up, and tries to offer reassurance. Halo just kinda halfheartedly accepts it, but their mind is on other things right now. that's when this moment happens:

they consider everything's that happened so far. Fripp and the druids are gone, leaving Valedale unattended. Maya is injured, Erissa and Darko are back, the soul riders are on their own aside from a few straggling druids who stayed behind like Rhiannon probably. Dark Core is on the brink of executing their plan, and their chances? not looking good.

Halo keeps thinking back to the vision they had. of their friends meeting the same fate as Elizabeth. of getting sealed away in endless darkness by Garnok before he breaks free and tears Jorvik apart.

they think of Darko. the one they keep seeing in those visions, the one who causes the demise of their friends. and they realize- they don't have time to go warn the others. friendship, unity, and teamwork isn't going to save Jorvik now. in the visions they get, it's the soul riders working together that gets all of them killed. it's Halo choosing to keep fighting beside them that gets them all killed.

i've thought about a Halo officially breaking off from the druids/soul riders scenario before, and this seems like a perfect opportunity for that. i jokingly call it "Halo's revenge arc" but its more than that. it's abandoning everything and going to extreme lengths in order to prevent this tragedy. in order to keep their friends safe. they don't care if they have to kill Darko or Mr. Sands with their bare hands. heck, I headcanon that this is the point in the story where they've formed a mutual respect with the Dark Riders, (Katja, Jay, and especially Sabine at least), but even they aren't exempt from Halo's wrath if they choose to get in the way. at this point, Halo's lost hope that they'd be able to defeat Garnok, that they'll get the Light Ceremony book in time or whatever, right now all they can think to do is to stop Dark Core first.

and they have to do it alone.

morning comes, and the Hightowers see them stranded on Cape Sorrow, cold and starving. they help get Halo to shore, give them a warm meal, and try to ask them what happened. (reminder that Halo worked at the rescue ranch for a time, so the Hightowers are like family to them! they know a tiny amount about Halo's soul rider life, but not all the details.) Halo just says some druid stuff happened, and that they need to get back to their friends. Erik and Holly use their phone to call the Soul Riders, and say they've found Halo and that they'll be back in Valedale soon.

back in Valedale, Alex and the others are trying to heal Maya with what little they have. they were pretty stressed about Halo's whereabouts after they chased Erissa, so they're at least relieved to hear they're alright. and hey, maybe with Halo's powers combining with Lisa's, they'll be able to heal Maya!

so they wait, and they wait. and wait. but Halo and Buddy never arrive.

a day passes. they think something must've happened to Halo, and they're still resting up back over at South Hoof. they call the Hightowers again, but they assure Halo left soon after they'd called last time. the realization starts to sink in that fuck, they don't know where Halo is. they start calling around, Moorland, Silverglade, fuck even places like Epona, the Harvest Counties, and Mistfall- but nothing comes up. no one's seen them. they're just... gone.

hours turn into days. days turn into weeks. Halo and Buddy don't come back. because they're doing exactly what they'd promised they would do. they're going to stop Mr. Sands.

[imaginidol]

bangchan: flowers for you and for me

I had no idea where this was going (that's usually how most of the things I post on here go, anyway). But, I had my first motorcycle ride a couple weeks ago, followed by a heartbreak, so I'll be putting all my dumb lil experiences into fics for my own sake of much-needed content. I hope you like these unplanned shorts, because that's how pretty much my entire past few weeks have been, unplanned and just going with the flow! hahahaha

"Tell me again," I smile up at my boyfriend, Chan. I can feel his soft, quiet heartbeats against my cheek as I lay my head against his chest.

We've probably been lazily snoozing on and off for a couple hours now, each of us resting comfortably within each wing of his L-shaped couch. He's gently running his fingers through my hair, our conversations traveling all over the place as the night progresses.

"Okay," he giggles lightly, clearing his throat as he begins to retell one of my favorite stories of his -- when I received my first bouquet of flowers from him. "I remember rewatching that video you showed me of NCT 127's JCC Florist episode, and how you particularly loved the flower bouquet that Mark had made. I think I probably looked up dozens of flowers trying to match the exact ones in the video, after that."

This is the part that always makes me blush, and probably the single reason I love making him retell me this story, time and time again.

He's a detallista, someone very detail-oriented.

Suddenly, before he can say anything else, his phone rings.

"Give me a second, love," he says, hunting through his sweats and hoodie pockets before finally pulling out his mobile.

I wait patiently next to him as he makes his phone call. His facial expression focuses into artist-mode: brows slightly furrowed, eyes slightly glaring straight ahead, his tongue sliding between the corners of his bottom lip and bottom teeth.

"Okay, I'll swing by. Alright, buh-bye."

He turns his phone off and begins to stretch his arms, one arm making its way around my shoulders.

"That was Lino, he wants me to drop off some camera equipment."

"You're going right now?"

"Yeah," he exhales, "he's heading early to KQ tomorrow to give it to one of the ATEEZ guys, since it's their equipment and we borrowed it for a bit."

"Ahh, okay," I exhale, too.

"But you're coming with me," he smirks.

"Right now!?"

"Yeah, let's take the bike," he quickly gets up in excitement, reaching his hands out to heave me off the couch. "Are you down?"

I nod, not because I particularly wanted to go anywhere at this hour (and much less on a motorcycle), but because curiosity for any adventure always got the best of me.

--

Chan straps my helmet on, pulling the visor over my eyes before heaving me up behind him.

"You have the backpack?" He looks behind his shoulder at me, and I assure him that I do. He pulls over his own helmet and visor, and brings the motorcycle's little transmission to life.

He reaches his arms out to his sides, waiting for me to wrap my arms around him as we usually do. This is my favorite part, because I always look forward to the little happy bounce he does when he feels me hugging him tightly. He grabs my hands and quickly places a "kiss" against the back of my palms, except he's wearing his helmet, so I only feel the cold plastic of his visor against my skin. It always makes me giggle, regardless.

The next few minutes consist of me holding onto dear life as Chan revs his engine and starts driving faster and faster -- a feeling I will never quite get used to, but would never turn it down. I don't know if Chan knows, but every time I'm his backpack, I'm crazy smiling from the point of departure until the point of destination. It's a mix of the loud sounds of the highways, other vehicles, the bike's engine, and adrenaline that builds from the excitement of being so close to the world -- so close to everything!

When the road curves, we sort of lean to one side, and I take advantage of holding onto Chan a bit tighter. Partially to hold on, because curves can get dangerous real fast on a bike, and maybe partially because I really like feeling safe with him.

As we start making our way closer to Lee Know's neighborhood, we start approaching more speed bumps. Every time Chan slows down to drive around them, he takes advantage of asking if I'm doing okay, to which I always respond with a content nod and a tight hug.

Lee Know is waiting outside his gate for us. He waves at me after greeting Chan, and I wave back.

I give the backpack to Chan, and he gives it to Lee Know. They talk for a few seconds before we're all waving each other good-bye. And soon enough, we're back on the road on our way home.

--

I notice that Chan is taking a different route than usual, and I don't know at first where we're going until we drive into a central city park surrounded by gardens, playgrounds, and couples.

The bike comes to a stop, and Chan helps me hop off first, helmets coming off after.

"I wanted to bring you here real quick," he smiles as he pats down his now-messy helmet hair, "because there's a particular flower bush that reminds me of you, and it's finally its blooming season."

"Flowers? That remind you of me?"

He nods excitedly. "Follow me," he says, and takes my hand in his.

I also like following him around like this, when he's ever so slightly taking the lead, and I'm following closely behind. I wonder if he ever knows how much I like noticing these little things about him.

We approach a bush of hydrangeas, beautifully lit-up by the artificial park lamps all around. Their pastel colors complement the green leaves and darkening sky all around us. They're very pretty.

"Remember the camera equipment we gave to Lino?" He begins to reach for the bush, his fingers carefully choosing through the best-quality flower to pick out. "I had come here earlier, and taken lots of pictures of these very flowers. I'm working on a song for you, and I wanted this flower to be the cover art. He's actually taking that camera up to KQ because one of the ATEEZ boys agreed to edit them well, and make a photobook for me. To give to you."

I look up, and I can't help but feel my stupid smile stretch from January to December. The sight of him bringing his hands close to his face with a flower, his eyes carefully inspecting it before they make their way to me. He smiles now, and walks closer to me.

He places the flower somewhere in my hair, followed by a stupid smirk that I can't help but fall in love with all over again.

"A flower for you," he whispers, and brings himself closer, embracing me in a hug. "A flower for me."

This will be my new favorite story that I'll be asking him to retell me, over and over again. The flower photo session, bringing me here, calling me his flower, all of it.

The scent of your cologne against me will live in my mind forever.

I'll see a motorcycle with a couple riding it on the highway, and I'll think of holding tightly onto you.

The photos of the flower arrangements lovingly taken by Chan, delivered by Lee Know, and proudly edited by the ATEEZ boys will be my new favorite bouquets.

I'll watch movies with kissing scenes and remember the way you and I shared moments like that, too.

I'll think of hydrangeas bushes, and I'll think of you.

[fruitymocha]

Elysian

That dream where Albedo crafted you from the finest marble

Featuring: Albedo x gn!Reader (they/them and you/your used)

Warnings: Reader has existential crises at least once per POV switch, slight religious themes,

A/N: here’s you guys’ early Valentine’s gift from me to you. yes, I finally decided to do an explicitly romantic piece (that isn’t yandere). And yes, this is inspired by the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea (actually, it’s more of an au/retelling). It was too good of a concept to pass up on writing. Also you guys have no idea how long it took to find the perfect title (I went through a lot of different ones before settling on this one). By the way, this story kinda takes place in an au where everyone from Mondstadt is living in a sort of Ancient Greece type location instead of regular Mondstadt. I hope I’ve done this concept justice, and without further ado…

Let me make your dream come true…

The reds, pinks, golds, and oranges of the dawn filtered through the windows, coloring the blank canvases, parchments, and sketchbooks, as well as the stocks of clay, glass, metal, wood, and marble.

That’s when Albedo knew he had stayed up too late, pouring over his artistic endeavors. Well, it’s nothing new, of course. It is what he is known for, after all. Albedo, the recluse Renaissance man. He is the epitome of the genius stereotype. A brilliant mind who is awake far beyond reasonable hours, slaving away at the latest inspiration, theory, or idea. A brilliant mind that seemingly has that spark of madness. A brilliant mind who lives for his work. And the two closest colleagues he has, Sucrose and Timaeus, are unable to stop him, though they try with logical reasoning and kind words.

Sucrose walked into the ivory and caramel-colored studio early in the morning to greet Albedo, who had decided to work with her in her endeavors to study biology. Now imagine her surprise to see her mentor with bruise-like dark circles under his eyes, carefully scanning the details of a work in progress sketch. Perhaps a new painting idea, or perhaps he finally decided on a new project for his chalk pastels. It didn’t matter, really. Clearly, Albedo was in desperate need of rest. She cleared her throat, which did nothing to catch the attention of the pale-haired man. Sucrose figured it must have been because her voice was too quiet, or because Albedo was in his own little world, or a combination of the two. With this in mind, the mint haired girl stepped closer to get his attention and let him know she had arrived. In this process, she was able to get a glimpse of a still-life sketch from over his shoulder. A single cecilia in a vase. She barely got to appreciate the sketch before the sketchbook was abruptly pulled away from her gaze and slammed shut by none other than Albedo himself.

“It was uninspired anyway,” he muttered to himself. “I need a grander idea,”

“Um, Mr Albedo-?”

“I knew you were there, Sucrose, I just needed to get everything on paper before I forgot the concept while focusing on our biology studies,” he explained.

“Uh- shouldn’t you get some rest?”

“I’ll be just fine, Sucrose,” he assured her, but Sucrose wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Are you sure, Mr Albedo? You have some pretty dark circles under your eyes-”

“A sip or two of wine should suffice, Sucrose,” Albedo interrupted her concerns, and Sucrose could do nothing but relent. After all, Albedo is the one supervising her, not the other way around.

~*~

After going through a couple scientific experiments with Sucrose and Timaeus assisting him, Albedo made his way back to his isolated studio up in the mountains. Luckily, summer was approaching, meaning the mountain winds didn’t have that wintry bite to them. Instead, they were cool and relaxing as the zephyrs flowed through his fluffy hair.

Many criticized Albedo for his lifestyle, and that notion never truly left his mind, unless he was drowning his mind in academia or the arts to express his passions for such subjects. They called him a loner. Now that wasn’t necessarily true. He enjoyed the company of Sucrose and her biology endeavors. He appreciated Timaeus and his dedication to alchemy. He admired the Traveling Twins, who knew their fair share of the world and the different cultures they’ve been exposed to. And he liked to be in their company, too. Though neither Albedo nor the twins were astronomers in any sense, they did like to occasionally talk about or study the stars together.

But the nearby villagers don’t know that about Albedo because they don’t care to. They just like to point fingers and call him the loner mad genius simply because silence and alone time bring him peace and happiness. He’s perfectly content skipping out on large feasts and village-wide worship of the Gods, but evidently that’s frowned upon. Some have even started the rumor that he’s sworn himself to never fall in love. That never actually happened, he simply isn’t interested in any of the local villagers. No, he can’t imagine ever thinking of any local villager in a romantic light. In the past, he still held hope that he’d meet someone different. Someone with whom he could share mutual appreciation and respect.

Someone who wouldn’t judge him for his behavior. Someone who would instead try to be empathetic and understand things from his perspective.

But no, no one in this tiny communal village has that sort of grace or kindness to them. He’s given up on that fantasy. Perhaps he should seriously consider adopting a nomadic lifestyle for a bit and explore the world with Aether and Lumine. Maybe only then would he find someone to suit his tastes, wants, and needs.

Before he knew it, Albedo had arrived at the door of his secluded studio, roof supported by towering columns. Caryatid columns, the columns made to look like women supporting the roofs of buildings with just their heads.

It was then that Albedo had been struck with inspiration.

He rushed into the studio, pulling out his sketchbook and using his stylus to sketch a figure. A figure that did not yet have a definite appearance, simply a vaguely human body in a vaguely anatomically accurate pose. Leaning forward, with robes and a vague sketch of hair billowing around the body as if the wind were caressing the figure. A hand outstretched in an almost theatrical manner. The figure was just like the frescoes of nymphs and angels on the ceilings of some temples of worship.

And then drowsiness hit Albedo like a spell. He knew he wouldn’t get anything substantial down in this state, so he decided to leave the details for tomorrow. Besides, he had big plans for this concept. He knew he’d need to be absolutely focused on each and every detail. But first, he’d need materials. Yes, he’d need a supplier to get him an appropriately sized block of the finest marble…

~*~

For next couple days, Albedo was hard at work, trying to vividly imagine the perfect being to encapsulate in marble. What body type should they have? What kind of hair type, and how long? What would the shape of their eyes be? What about face shape? Nose? Lips? He tried to mix and match many different combinations of features, but it always seemed like something was off. Missing. But what?

Just then, a knock was heard at the door.

“Come in,” Albedo called out to the visitor as he took one last look at the sixth facial rough draft. The door opened to reveal Aether and Lumine. “Ah, it’s you two. Welcome to the studio. What brings you here?”

“Sucrose told us you were busy at work with a ‘grand project’. May we inquire as to what that project is?” Lumine asked.

Albedo thought for a moment. This project, as grand as he believes it to be, is a project he holds dear to his heart. To reveal everything would be to lay his heart out for all to see. He would be completely vulnerable. But he still trusted the twins with his feelings, so he gave them just enough information.

“I was inspired by the Caryatids outside the studio. I was…overcome with a desire to sculpt a person,” he explained carefully.

“So are you going to find a model?” Aether asked.

“No,” Albedo said immediately, perhaps slightly harsh in tone. He cleared his throat, and attempted to prevent a misunderstanding from arising due to his carelessness. “I’d rather not base the image on someone else. This is a being of my own creation. A muse that has yet to exist,”

“Do you know what the statue’s gonna look like yet, Albedo?” Aether asked, as Lumine eyed the sketchbook left open on the page of drafts.

“I’m guessing it’s a work in progress,” Lumine said, still eyeing the drafts. Albedo grabbed the sketchbook, promptly closing it.

“I’m still working out the details, but I think I have a general idea…” Albedo looked away briefly, almost in a timid manner.

“So, would this…muse to-be…be your ideal person?” Lumine inquired.

“Ideal…person?”

“Like, romantically? Would they be your dream lover?” Lumine pressed on.

“That’s- that is not the intention I had for this project. I simply felt like creating a human sculpture,” Albedo was nothing short of bewildered by Lumine’s suggestion.

“Lumine! You can’t just make assumptions like that! Sorry, Albedo,” Aether apologized awkwardly. Albedo simply sighed.

“It’s quite alright. I’m used to…strange assumptions… at this point,”

Of course that didn’t make it any less jarring for him to think about this odd suggestion. However, Albedo wasn’t about to let Aether or Lumine carry the burden of guilt for stirring emotions he’s certain they didn’t mean to provoke. And so, he bid the twins farewell at sunset so they’d have enough time to get to the village before nightfall. Meanwhile, on the seventh draft, Albedo took features he’d liked from the previous six, as they’d all had similar faces, but slightly different auras to them.

As night fell, Albedo looked at the finished seventh draft. Something still felt missing, though the model was perfect. But what was missing? Albedo decided to take a break and look out the window to calm his mind. The stars were twinkling, painting the indigo sky with light.

Huh. Light.

Albedo turned back to the seventh draft. That’s it. Of course! Each draft had an aura, but it was missing a light. And so, Albedo focused on adding that light to those eyes.

And there was his muse. His greatest project. Perhaps even his magnum opus. Only time will tell, but one look at the seventh draft, and he knew it was the final draft. His muse was finally complete. Now all that was left was for the marble shipment to arrive.

~*~

The marble had arrived. Now of course Albedo never neglected his alchemical studies nor Sucrose and Timaeus’ occasional request for help or clarification. However, just thinking about getting to shape the fine marble sitting in his studio was enough to make him feel giddy. Everything was there, he just needed to put in the work.

So when he got back to his studio at the end of the day, and saw the giant block of marble sitting under his skylight, he was itching to get on the oddly shaped (but perfectly stable and practical) wooden platform and grab hold of his mallet and chisel.

And that’s exactly what he did.

For the next few weeks, he slaved away at the slab of marble, getting every detail down. Every edge, every curve, every crease and every mark. And of course, he never forgot to give his muse that light in their eyes. And finally, his muse was finished.

At the foot of the statue, Albedo gazed at those light-filled eyes. And right then and there, he felt a strange fondness. Like he wanted to cherish it for himself. The magnum opus no one would be able to freely gaze at. No one but Albedo himself, the creator. But he realized he forgot one thing: a name.

He tried many different ones with many different origins, meanings, and sounds. But eventually he settled on one.

“Hello, Y/N. My name is Albedo, and I am your creator,”

~*~

You were nothing but a marble statue. A hand reaching out for nothing, yet outstretched so delicately. You could not express your emotions on your face, nor speak, nor move. And yet, you knew that you were conscious. Sentient. You could feel and think just as your Creator could. Or, at least it seemed to work similarly for you based on what your Creator vocalized to you.

Mostly, he wallowed in loneliness and misunderstanding, but he always told you that he felt at ease with you. Sometimes, though, he’d get visitors.

A short, mint haired girl named Sucrose, who evidently studies biology and alchemy under your Creator’s supervision. She was soft-spoken and kind. She always referred to your Creator as “Mr Albedo”. As for how she treated you, she was in awe. She quite liked your robes and your expression, and sometimes she would talk to you, as well. You liked her presence, and perhaps if you could move or speak, you would’ve liked to be her friend. Friend is the right word, yes? At least, Creator calls her “friend” and you think you’d like to spend time with Sucrose the same way he does.

A young man with brown hair named Timaeus, who also studies alchemy, but evidently does most of his work in the village. Apparently, the village is filled with people, but your Creator has said many times before that the people there make assumptions about him. You’d like to go to the village anyway, though, if only to see Timaeus’ work (and maybe make those villagers understand that they were wrong about Creator).

Blonde haired twins. The boy, Aether, had his hair in a braid, and primarily wore gold and dark brown. He was kind, and always willing to help. He simply referred to your Creator as Albedo. Aether would sometimes put things in your outstretched marble hand, such as flowers. You really appreciated that. In fact, he, Sucrose, or your Creator himself would take the time to explain what it was you were holding. You wished you could go outside so that you could see the flowers growing in their natural habitats. Maybe you could even go with Aether, or Sucrose, or-… well, as much as you’d like the idea, you doubted Creator would humor you just to take you to see flowers. But it would be the perfect opportunity to let Creator take a break, Y/N! Your inner self told you. No, you knew your best bet was convincing Aether or Sucrose. Lumine, the pale haired one cut in a bob, wearing white and pale blue, would tell you stories. Stories of foreign lands, epic battles for survival, and sometimes more mundane events such as strange, funny, or recent things they witnessed or heard from others. You’d never seen the faces of the people Lumine talked about, like Jean, Klee, Diluc, or Venti. But, due to all the stories you’d heard about them, you already felt connected to them in some way, like distant friends.

Even so, you still longed for a way to leave the studio in the mountains, and see all these people for yourself. See the world for yourself. Oh, how you longed for someone to grant you true life. Perhaps Creator, who in theory could figure out a way to create life someday. Or Sucrose, who specializes in studying life and living organisms. Or even the patron god of this nation that everyone talks about. What was his name? Ah yes, you remembered now: Barbatos. Perhaps he could extend his divine touch and bless you from the heavens, or wherever it is that he resides.

But for now, you’d simply have to remain content with what you had.

~*~

Albedo, in the end, allowed his closest friends to see his masterpiece. But as the days went by, he felt more and more of an attachment to the marble statue in the center of the studio. As the days went by, your presence only became more and more lovely. Why or how, Albedo couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew he was falling hard and deep. For you. You, who embodied everything divine and perfect and Elysian. You, an entity Albedo couldn’t fully break away from.

And so, he started to come up to you in your delicately crafted glory. He stood upon your platform, and gently rested his face on your outstretched hand. “Oh, Y/N, how I wish you were truly alive…” he murmured, staring at your unmoving eyes. “Perhaps then, you and I could form a true bond. Not one of Creator and the Created, but simply two souls that belong side by side,”

Obviously, you did not move, nor make noise. You were a statue, after all. Nothing more. Were the villagers right? Was Albedo truly so isolated he grew an attachment to a human-shaped object by accident? No, it couldn’t be, for he already had close friends he saw fairly often. And yet there was something about you that drew him in, statue or not.

He recalled Lumine saying something about inventing an ideal partner. At the time, it sounded absurd, and absolutely was not his intention. But now, Albedo wasn’t so sure of himself. Maybe it wasn’t the intention, but did Albedo end up creating a dream person by accident? Is that what you are to him? He didn’t exactly know, but he knew one thing: he did care for you immensely. You were precious to him, that was undeniable, and he couldn’t imagine that ever changing.

Before he knew it, it was nighttime once again. “Y/N, I’d better get some rest. It is already late. Good night,” he said, gently running his thumb across your outstretched palm before stepping off the platform you stood on, and making his way to the corner of the studio where he often slept, not too far from the skylight, which you now stood under.

~*~

Days went on like this. You wondered what he meant when he spoke to you about bonds. You were his Creation, but it seemed he wanted something different from you. Would he prefer it if you considered him a friend, like Sucrose and the twins were to you and him? Or was there something else still? As much as you tried, you couldn’t easily make that transition in your mind. You managed to stop referring to him as “Creator” in your head, but you could not quite bring yourself to refer to him by his name. It felt too special for you to use, as you were but a being of marble. You were not human.

As the days passed, you would watch him work on his art projects. Sometimes, he would sketch things in the studio that he brought from the outside world, such as fruit or flowers. Sometimes he’d use chalk pastels or charcoal and draw something, or someone. There were even times when he’d do something more hands on, such as pottery, glass blowing, or wood carving. He did like to experiment in every sense of the word, it seemed. But he put the most effort into his paintings and his marble sculptures. And no matter what he worked on that day, he’d always show you what he accomplished with a shining light in his eyes. Genuine passion. He’d ramble to you about what inspired the art piece, explain his thought process, and share what the piece was supposed to represent. It seemed every piece had a story. A purpose. If you were a Creation in the same way that his paintings were, then what did you represent? What was your story? What was your purpose? He never did tell you, even if he did show you great care and kindness.

Every day was like this.

Until Sucrose and the twins came to inform the lone sculptor of the coming celebration. Down in the village, seven days would be given for the people to dedicate themselves to their patron god, Barbatos. Seven days to appreciate what he stood for: the winds and freedom. The temples would also be open to accept confessions and prayers from all who sought out guidance. At least, that’s what Sucrose told you.

Funny how no one knew of your sentience, yet they treated you as a living being and friend anyway. Was it your human design that prompted this? You found this to be likely. But you secretly hoped that someone had noticed the spark of life in your marble eyes, no matter how faint. If those around you truly understood you, you would be less lonely inside. Sure they talked to you, and acted like you could hear them (which you could, but they didn’t know that), but it was a one-way path. They couldn’t hear your thoughts. You couldn’t express your emotions to them. They had you, but you didn’t truly have them, did you?

In any case, Sucrose, Aether, and Lumine all suggested that your creator at least spend one day of the festival down in the village. He said that he’d consider it, but your weren’t entirely sure he meant it. After they left, the alchemist sighed and slumped into his painting chair.

“As if I want to go to the village… then again, if I don’t go I’ll get more criticism… hm…” he continued to mutter to himself about the good and bad sides of going to the village. You want him to go though. Just once. Even if you will be lonely up in the studio on your own. It’s okay, as long as he lives life. He sighed again.

“Just one day. I’ll go for just one day. And I’ll bring you something from the village. That way, you can also celebrate and show respect to Barbatos,” he said to you in that smooth, calming voice of his. You’ll miss him dearly, of course. But you’re also so happy that he decided to enjoy himself, at least for one day. And you’ll even get a small thing so you can celebrate too, even if you are stuck in your marble form.

But it seemed the festival wouldn’t be happening for a while. So you and he waited.

And as the time passed, you began to notice smaller details and habits. The more you stared into his eyes, the more you felt drawn by their bright hue. His pale hair looked quite nice from where you stood. Perhaps if you could move your fingers, you’d like to see for yourself just how his hair feels. You imagine it to be soft and pleasant to the touch. Your heart seemed to overflow with a certain feeling whenever he came up to you and gently held your outstretched hand, or looked deeply into your eyes.

But you knew it was not the same as your fondness for Sucrose, Aether, and Lumine. With them, you simply wanted to spend time, have a good laugh, and share conversations and memories. With your sculptor, you wanted… more. You didn’t know exactly what you wanted from him, but you knew you wanted to be closer to him than any other. You cared for him very much, and wished for nothing but time and closeness. Together. He always tells you that you were a gift from above: a glimpse of divinity. However, you couldn’t help but think of him in a similar way. While appearance is trivial compared to character, you could not deny the way his appearance seemed to exude grace, wisdom, and compassion. There was a dreamlike gentleness to his very soul that bled out into his outward appearance, and you would be a fool to lie and tell yourself it was an illusion. The only problem was that you didn’t have a word for this sentiment. You knew it was more than friendship, but what could be more than friendship?

Is this the type of bond he wanted? Or were you being too much? How could you ever know?

Unless you somehow prayed to Barbatos for guidance. After all, you already knew how the ritual worked after watching your dear sculptor openly pray in your line of sight multiple times. Perhaps if you managed to do so during the festival, you’d be more likely to receive an answer?

All you have to do is wait.

~*~

Albedo felt like he was losing his mind. Only slightly, but the feeling was there nonetheless. He felt an unusual attachment to Y/N, his beloved muse. They were nothing but a statue, and yet it was as if they had a soul all their own. And not just a “soul” of art, meant to convey the story or purpose of an art piece. No. Albedo felt a certain aura coming from Y/N. Almost as if they were conscious. Sentient. Alive.

Regardless, Albedo found himself becoming more wistful and forlorn at the fact that you were not technically a person. Simply a creation he thought up one day and gave a marble vessel to. He found himself wishing you did have a human body. He could feel it in his bones that if Y/N were to become a being of flesh and blood, they would stick by him. But would they love you? His inner voice interjected. Would they know what love even is?

Albedo had no way of knowing the answer.

Unless he decided to seek guidance from Barbatos, that is. Perhaps on the day he decides to go to the village, he can stop by one of the shrines of depths and pray. What he would ask of the Wind God, Albedo didn’t know, exactly. But he knew he had to ask about Y/N.

~*~

And so, the first day of the Festival began after your patient waiting. The sculptor had left, not for the village, but to get fresh air and create art outside. He reasoned with you that doing outdoor activities amidst the mountain breezes would show sufficient appreciation for the Anemo God’s wind currents. Oh, how you wished you could feel such a thing against your skin. The most you could do was listen to its whispers from the inside.

But you had plans for this first day. You decided you would attempt to sleep. While you had no need for it, not being truly alive, you wanted to experience what he referred to as “dreams”. You decided to try and calm your mind… let it wander.

But you did not seek to dream for the sake of dreaming. No. You sought to use dreams to communicate with others. Perhaps through your dream, you could contact the great Wind God and ask to be granted life. And, at night, as an added bonus, you could try to communicate with your sculptor— no— Albedo, through these dreams. Your heart fills with joy at the thought of finally being able to express your thoughts and feelings, and truly form a bond with him. However, try as your instincts might, your current marble vessel cannot move to express the joy and energy that fills you to the brim. It feels as if a whirlwind were trapped, encased within a jar made of thick glass, difficult to break through. Oh how you could not wait to make this first attempt at contact.

When Albedo returned, you had noticed that his hair had become tousled playfully by the winds outside, and he was none the wiser as to the state of his pale locks. He once again decided to show you his latest creation, as he always did.

“Look at this latest painting, Y/N. It depicts the winds blowing against a field of wildflowers. Yes, this location is on the mountain. I decided to paint this in honor of the first day of the festival, since the wind’s effect on the wildflowers is technically the focus. I… I wish you could have seen it for yourself instead of a painted recreation. But, it can’t be helped. You are a being of Elysian marble, after all. I couldn’t possibly risk the elements damaging you,” he set the painting on his previously empty easel, and poured himself a glass of wine. As he took delicate sips of the red drink, he glanced at you every now and then.

“Tomorrow, I will go outside with Aether and Lumine. We will see if we can find something suitable for you to hold for the rest of the festival. But for now, I must get ready for bed. Good night, my dear Y/N,” he said. And when he rested his head upon the pillow of his bed, you too, prepared for a night of dreams.

~*~

Albedo was in a sea of grass and wildflowers, rippling like waves due to the cool winds. But there was something else. In the center was a circle of cobblestone, and a marble pedestal. Just in front was a plaque that had your name on it, a short description of how you came to be underneath, as well as your creator’s name.

But you were gone. The Elysian figure was missing from their rightful place. Albedo, unaware he was dreaming, quickly became concerned with your whereabouts.

Meanwhile, you walked barefoot among the wildflowers. Yes, walked! Your skin was no longer pale marble, but a lovely and healthy shade of (s/c). Your hair was well kept and (h/c), with the perfect (hair type) locks. You, unfortunately, could not see your eyes, as there was nothing around that could reflect your face back to you. But no matter. Perhaps in another dream a mirror or other reflective surface would be more readily available to you. You excitedly flexed your fingers and toes and arms and legs, and you stuck out your tongue, moved your eyebrows, smiled widely. You did all those things you saw everyone else do and more. You twirled in the dream-wind, spinning on the balls of your feet, and soon enough you jumped and swayed your arms, playing around with the freedom of movement you never had as a marble statue. And all the colors and sounds around you were so pleasant and vibrant and comforting to you. If this is what it meant to live, then surely the Wind God would not fault you for your desire of true life.

Everything was in so much detail you could almost feel the wind and smell the flowers. It was all perfect. Albedo truly did have a vivid and artistic vision, even asleep! But you soon noticed him concerned over your whereabouts, and you noticed your vacant pedestal. So you decided to approach him carefully.

And soon enough, the both of you locked eyes in this wondrous dreamscape Albedo created. Or did you create it? Was it a combination of both? Surely it must have been, or perhaps it didn’t matter. It could have been orchestrated by Barbatos himself for all you care. What mattered was that you both froze at the eye contact.

“…Y/N?” Albedo asked tentatively.

“Indeed. I’m here,” you smiled widely. You decided you liked your voice. Surely you must find a way to use it more when you are granted life.

There was only one problem.

You knew Albedo didn’t recognize you as sentient. He had not reached a point of lucidity in this dreamscape. Even if he did, he likely thought you were a figment of his subconscious reflecting his desires back to him. But he’d understand someday, you were sure of it.

“I want to ask you something. Before you wake,” you said tentatively.

“Of course, what is it?” you could tell Albedo was still somewhat bewildered by your human form in this dream world.

“Is there something beyond friendship?”

Albedo paused for just a second before responding.

“Yes, of course. Love,”

Love. Is this the answer you were looking for? Is this what you felt for him?

“What does it mean… to love?” You asked him. Albedo chuckled and smiled.

“Why don’t we sit down?” You caught a starry glint in his eyes. Not of mischief, but of genuine happiness. The same glint he always had when he showed you his art pieces. But somehow, it was stronger. Was it because he could finally talk to you? You sat down across from him, among the rippling wildflowers.

“Love can have different forms, actually. You can have philia: ‘love’ for your friends. Though that really is known as friendship,”

“Like with Sucrose and Aether and Lumine!” You said excitedly. “I’d like to be friends with them when I am granted life,”

“Right. Then there’s storge: love for your family,” you stopped smiling.

“But…as your Creation…I have no family,” Albedo gently placed a hand on top of yours.

“Family doesn’t have to mean blood related. Sure, most people mean that when they say family, but in your case, you can choose. Whoever you feel can support you and stick by you like a parent with their child, or a sibling with their fellow sibling, or whatever you want to imagine,”

“So, storge is love for someone who guides you through this world with love, right?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but once you’re granted life, we can talk more about the world,” Albedo promised.

“Is there an example in the real world you can give me?” You asked.

“I suppose I’m like an older brother to Klee, if we’re listing people you already know…” you smiled once again.

“Okay. Is there anything else?”

“Oh there’s more than just two. I’m just getting started,”

“What’s next?”

“There’s agape: the love people have for humanity itself,”

“You can love everyone?”

“Well, not every single individual, no. It really means something more along the lines of compassion or empathy. Where you’d be willing to help or care for others when they need it,”

“Ah, okay, so would that apply to the village?”

“Actually, yes. Mostly,”

“Except they don’t really like you,”

“Hold on, there, they don’t hate me. They just don’t know me that well,”

“…If you say so…” you said. And then you felt it. Your fingers and hands and wrists became stiff, as did your toes and feet and ankles. You looked down at your hands, terrified of the lack of movement. You were slowly turning back into marble and you could feel it. You began to panic. “Why is this happening? I’m dreaming- I can’t- I don’t-”

Albedo grabbed you and held you close, running his fingers through your hair. “Hey, you’re okay, I promise,” he said to you. It crawled up your arms and calves.

“No… I don’t want to be a statue… I want to live!”

“You will be granted life. I will make sure of it,” you felt in go to your upper arms and thighs. There was no way for you to move now.

“Every day… I just want to live like you. I want to leave the mountain and meet people… I want to actually talk to Sucrose… and Aether… and Lumine… and you. I want to meet everyone you all talk about… I want to know what it is you mean when you say you want to create a bond with me…”

It was up to your midsection, creeping too close to your heart for comfort.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N, you’re going to be okay, you’ll be alive soon,” he promised. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and barely choked back the sobs wrecking your throat.

“I need you to listen to me… I can hear you… and I can see you in the real world. I may not be able to speak to you, or move, or show my emotion on my face… but I am sentient… I can think and feel just like you, out there… please believe me…” it soon reached your neck.

“…you’re not dying, Y/N… you’re okay, as long as you haven’t been chipped away, or destroyed…” you saw a glint of lucidity. He now knew this was a dream. But he never confirmed that he believed in your sentience.

“…don’t you believe me…? I may not have a vessel of flesh and blood… but in my mind I’m real… I’m a person… I’m alive in my mind… why won’t you believe me…?” It made its way to your jaw, and now you’d hair was solid and unmoving. Albedo said nothing. He simply put his chin on the top of your head and held you close.

And then your crying stopped. Albedo closed his eyes, and held you, but soon enough, your presence was gone altogether. Your platform and plaque were also gone. And the wildflowers suddenly didn’t look so vibrant or beautiful to Albedo anymore.

Your consciousness returned to the marble vessel in the studio. You were stuck once again. You wish you could cry or scream or throw a fit. But you couldn’t let it out. All you could do was try to bear the emotional pressure that filled you to the brim. You could hear Albedo’s soft breaths behind you. He must still be asleep.

He didn’t believe you, did he?

Was it really a good idea to follow him into his dreams?

Perhaps tomorrow night, you should attempt contact with the Wind God instead.

You could hear Albedo tossing and turning in his sleep behind you.

~*~

The second day arrived, and a new face burst through the studio. A little girl with blonde pigtails and a red dress. She was very excitable, and you almost worried she’d crash into one of your creator’s works.

“Klee, be careful!” Albedo warned her, though his voice still maintained that calm and collected demeanor.

So this is Klee.

“Okay!” She said, ceasing to run, though she still jumped in place a bit. Then she noticed you in the middle of the studio. Of course. “Who is this person?” She asked.

“Y/N, my latest marble sculpture. Aren’t they lovely?”

“They’re very nice looking! I wish they were a real person, then you wouldn’t be so lonely up here,” if you had the ability to laugh, you would have.

“I’m not lonely, Klee. Sucrose and the twins visit me often, and Timaeus stops by sometimes as well,”

Sucrose, who accompanied Klee during her trip to the studio, nodded her head in agreement.

“But when they’re not here and I’m not here you’re alone,” You found it particularly satisfying how Klee essentially voiced your unheard concerns in your stead. You tell him, Klee!

“…Y/N keeps me company…”

“Mr Albedo, Y/N is a statue,” Sucrose pointed out.

“Regardless,” Albedo interrupted, wanting to move on, “we should be getting ready to go down to the village,”

“Yay, festival day!” Klee got all energetic and excited again.

“After today there are still five more days, Klee. So don’t feel like you need to do everything all at once today,” Sucrose reminded her gently.

“Okay!” She said. Albedo then looked up at me as Klee was busy talking to Sucrose.

“Are you truly… sentient? Have I truly created a conscious being?” He asked softly, looking up at me. Of course I couldn’t respond. He took a deep breath and sighed.

“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to tell you a code word here in our waking world, and if you know the word when you gain true life, I will know for sure that you were right,”

You waited in anticipation for the word he would give you.

“…I’m sorry I can’t wholeheartedly believe in your sentience. I just have no way of proving it,”

So what’s the code word?

“Hmm… let’s see if I can come up with a good code word…” Albedo pondered for a moment before turning to you.

“I’ve got it,” he said with confidence. “Elysian,”

Elysian, huh? I can remember that…

“If you come to life, and you say this word, I will know you are sentient,” Albedo confirms.

“Albedo, are you coming? We’re going out to the town again,” Sucrose called.

He turned to look at Sucrose and Klee.

“Coming,”

He turned back to you.

“Goodbye, Y/N,”

And with that, you were all alone.

So you decided to try and sleep again.

~*~

When you opened your eyes, you were in an empty plane, with nothing but teal surrounding you, and a few cecilia flowers on the ground, creating a path to a short figure. They wore white garments that didn’t cover much of the body. Then again, you only wore a simple white robe. Who were you to judge? You loved the freeing feeling of being able to move once more, and ran over to the figure. They also had large white wings protruding from their back. Their hair was dark with longer teal ends, braided. Their eyes were a similar color.

“Who are you?” You asked them.

“I am Barbatos, God of Wind and Freedom,”

“I am Y/N… a marble creation made by Albedo,”

“Albedo… I am familiar with him and his… reserved tendencies,”

“Barbatos… may I ask a question?”

“Of course, Y/N,” he chuckled.

“What is stronger than friendship?”

“Why, love of course,”

“But what does it mean to love?”

“To love someone is to care for them. To see the inside and outside equally, and to accept their imperfections. But you want to know two types in particular: eros and pragma,”

“What do those mean?”

“Eros is the romantic or physical type of love. To find someone physically attractive, and initiate physical displays of affection. It’s sensual in nature. Pragma is a long term type of affection. The kind where you want to be with someone forever,”

“Is that how I feel about Albedo?”

“I don’t know, is it? Only you can know for sure, Y/N,”

You thought for a moment, almost scared of the epiphany you’d reached. You’d need time to digest it all. But you had one more thing to ask.

“If it isn’t too much to ask, I would like you to grant me freedom of my own,”

“What do you mean, Y/N? Are you unhappy with your life?”

“I want to be like the others. I want to live life as a human. I don’t want to be an unmoving statue for eternity,”

“Hmmm… I shall see what I can do, dear Y/N,”

“Thank you, Barbatos,”

He simply smiled as he played his lyre, and soon enough, you awoke.

~*~

As the days of the festival inched by, Albedo started to wonder what he should do. He had come to the strange conclusion that he had fallen in love with Y/N, his marble creation. But he had no idea how to cope with this latest discovery. So he visited the Temple of Barbatos in a time when the winds were strong and the sun was high.

“Lord Barbatos, hear my prayer,” he said to the towering winged statue as he placed his offering of cecilias. “May you grant me the freedom to find love similar in spirit to Y/N, my magnum opus,”

Barbatos, from the winds above, indeed heard Albedo’s prayer. Though he knew what Albedo truly wanted to say. He wanted Y/N themselves, not a mere facsimile. And with his prior knowledge of Y/N’s desire to have the same freedoms as a living human, he crafted his perfect plan for the two yearning souls.

~*~

When Albedo arrived back in his studio, he knelt at your feet.

“Y/N… you’ve stolen my heart. I cannot lie to myself, or to you. Oh how I wish you were made of warm flesh instead of cold marble,” he rose to step onto the platform, and cupped your cheek. “I fear I shall not be happy with anyone else except you,”

Barbatos, who watched from above, watched in anticipation, and enacted the plan.

Albedo kissed you on your marble lips, and the generous Barbatos granted you your ultimate freedom: humanity.

When Albedo separated from you, he leaped away in shock, and you stepped down from your platform. You looked at your hands, bending your fingers excitedly. You touched your hair, your robes, everything. You smiled.

“I’m alive!”

“Whats the code word?” Albedo asked, his voice nothing more than a wind’s whisper in awe.

You smiled wider.

“Elysian,”

Albedo leaped into your arms.

“So you were conscious the whole time,” he whispered.

“And I love you too,”

“Forever?” He asked.

“Forever,” you nodded.

~dream realized~

[meanderforth]

Hey, folks! 

In the last update, I detailed the techniques used to port the levels from the old GameMaker version of Meander Forth to the Godot engine.

I had hoped to have a playable build of the game ready for patrons by the time this post rolled around, but it's not quite ready yet. There are still some finishing touches and known issues I need to work out. I can safely say it will be available soon, however!

In the meantime, here are some updates regarding the game:

Outskirts Progress:

First and foremost, I've made some more headway on the outskirts stage, populating it with NPC's and story events!

As the opening stage of the game, the Outskirts area serves as an introduction to the game's mechanics, world, story, and characters.

It opens with a scene of three friends (Isaak the human, Scotty the fox, and Garret the otter) getting reacquainted after some time apart.

As the stage progresses, Garret bumps into a variety of quirky characters, such as his sister Emerald and his brother Parlo, who seem elated that Garret is finally out-and-about.

If you've played the Teak's Tall Tale demo, you may recognize some familiar faces! Meander Forth picks up right where that one left off.

It seems Garret's friends are worried about something, however. It must be important, if they have their own cutscene areas!

Not everyone has some long-winded diatribe, of course. Some just spout what's on their mind. And that's okay.

Admittedly, this stage has a lot of dialog. In fact, it probably has the most out of any stage in the game! Despite the blocky aesthetic, my goal is to create a world that feels "alive." I want players to really get a sense of what this world means to Garret... and what it means for it to be stolen away from him.

Godot 4.3

Since the last update, I have upgraded the game's engine from Godot 4.2 to Godot 4.3.  The previous version had a lot of issues regarding pixel art positioning and scaling, causing art on the screen to shimmer and jitter. 4.3 fixes this issue, giving the game a smoother feel.

A by-product of this update is that the framerate can now be uncapped without introducing ugly visual artifacts. An option to choose your desired framerate will be added to the settings menu for those with faster monitors.

School Stuff

As of the writing of this post, the Fall 2024 semester of my college has begun! Admittedly, I'm taking this semester off from school. I have completed all-but-two of the classes in my program, and neither of them will be available until Spring.

Thankfully, I have been allowed to continue my front-desk job at the school's tutoring center, so I will be able to support myself with that, and even work on some STEM-related projects such as this one in the downtime.

Admittedly, development may slow down a bit as I get adjusted, but rest assured the pace will pick back up when I get used to the new schedule.

Thank you for reading! I hope to see you in the next update. Hopefully I'll have something playable ready by then. After that, it'll be time to create the second part of this level: the Forest area. (Note: These areas will have better names in the final game, haha!)

Note: This is a cross-post from my p*treon blog. The original can be found here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/3-sept-2024-111383422

[cleanwhiteroom-archived]

Hi, mate! Thanks to this account I now know that Cwr and Elementals had new works (if I can say that about September 2022). I read DCWT and I exploded in the street a few minutes ago after reading one of ur post about new texts. Can you help me to know in what order I need to read all the new stuff and where I can read/listen them? Is only Pacific Rim related or there is some other fandom and/or new original world?

@umbra-life HI SORRY hello! Yes! Welcome! I do need to update my pinned post one of these days - today is sadly not that day because it is 1am but rest assured I will be fixing it soon!

If you kept up with CWR’s work in Pacific Rim prior to 2015 or so, then you probably read Designations Congruent With Things, Out of Many Scattered Things, and the one shots such as Like The Twist of a Plot. If you’re looking for new CWR shenanigans in the Pacific Rim Universe since 2020 or so, the big New Addition is called Aftermath and it is gorgeous 🥹 You can download/read Aftermath on CWR’s blog here! If you want to reread everything in the Designations universe, I’d probably suggest just going in release order: DCWT, OOMST, Aftermath, and then the one-shots. The first three are all on CWR’s site for download, and I have a doc of the one-shots I saved in The Before Times here. As for audio- Elementals released a recording for DCWT Ch 20 and Ch21! No official word on whether we’ll get the rest, but their website does say audio for Aftermath is coming so fingies and toes are crossed 😇

The OTHER new stuff CWR has been/is currently releasing is all in the Stargate universe - before writing in Pacific Rim, CWR originally started a triptych of Stargate fics: Force Over Distance (complete), Mathèmatique (WiP) and Ad Noctum (WiP). In the last few years, CWR has begun to rewrite FoD, and rework/add on to Maths and AdNo. 🥹 Likewise, Elementals has also been releasing new audio for these updated/new chapters, available on their website - AND the newest update this weekend is Elementals is maybe now allowing us access to in-progress audio 😱 go look at their site for details. It’s ridic.

Figuring out the order to read the Triptych is both straightforward and complicated - you should read FoD first, and then can read Maths and AdNo in any order after that… but should someone reading FoD for the first time start with the original complete FoD first and then the new WiP version of FoD for instance? Or just jump straight to the new versions? I wish I knew for certain pal - my gut though says start with the new versions on CWR’s website and if you’re fascinated and want to take the time to compare to the OGs then I have copies of them in my google drive for your perusal! That’s just me though - Anyone else out there have an opinion on whether newcomers to CWR’s Stargate triptych should read the originals first or start afresh?

Tangentially related to the DCWT side of the ask……… This ask actually sent me down a bit of a rabbit hole. And that rabbit hole is ‘what order do all the chapters of CWR’s Pacific Rim tale ACTUALLY take place in?’ And while part of me worries that reading them in chronological order would fundamentally mess with CWR’s intent (why do I get fractal vibes from stories within stories, drilling down and expanding on smaller and smaller sections? I could be reading into things…) I couldn’t help myself. And turns out untangling their order is mostly sort-of possible so I maybe put that list together below for anyone brave enough to attempt it lmao. Take the order with a grain of salt as some of these like The Twist of a Plot could maybe take place later or sooner than I’ve put them but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’m running this post so what can ya do ya know?

CWR’s Pacific Rim media in Chronological Order, for funsies and for insomnia:

Epistolary Empiricism & Science Charm (OOMST) - In Medias Res (One Shots) - Aftermath 2015 Ch5 & Ch11 - Kingmaker & Lady Stardust (OOMST) - first 1/4 of The Blue Guitar (OOMST) - Aftermath 2015 Ch21, Ch26, Ch31, Aftermath 2017 Ch4, Ch10, Ch17, Ch34, Ch40, Ch46 - the rest of The Blue Guitar & The Crystal Lake (OOMST) - Aftermath 2020 Ch8, Ch12, Ch19, Ch24, Ch29 - Geneva 2020 (OOMST) - Aftermath 2020 Ch33, Ch43 - Failing the Solo Trial & Things Exactly As They Are (OOMST).

(Pacific Rim Film)

DCWT Ch1-9 - Aftermath 2025 Ch2, DCWT Ch10, Read Receipt (One shots) - Aftermath 2025 Ch15, DCWT Ch11-22, Under Pressure(One Shots), DCWT Ch23, Double De-Clutch (One shots) - DCWT Ch 24 - Ch28, Aftermath 2025 Ch25 & Ch48, Like the Twist of a Plot (One Shots), Aftermath 2027 Ch23, Ch27, Ch30, Ch35, Ch38, Ch42, Ch45, Aftermath 2028 Ch3, CH7, Ch16, Ch22, Ch37, Ch41, Ch49, Aftermath 2030 Ch1, Ch6, Ch9, Ch14, Ch2, Ch28, Ch32, Ch39, Ch44, Aftermath 2035 Ch50

Will I ever take the time to read these in order? Only time will tell, but researching all day sure made it feel like I already did 🙃

[boogleboot]

crikey. a year since I started writing Fateheart. Roughly. What a time that was.

and still is, actually. it's not like I've stopped. The third book, second sequel to The Starless Sea, is in the works. I took a break from it the past months because I have been quite unwell, but it is called The Lotus Flowers and it WILL get done it WILL it WILL it WILL.

I also have Fever Pitch to finish, which is an interrim story that was going to go along with the rest of the collection of stories in the extended canon, but is actually rapidly approaching another full-sized book. (I think Fateheart has warped my perspective slightly on what constitutes a full-length story hahah.)

@erinmorgenstern are you aware that Zachary Ezra Rawlins has moved permanently into my brain? He has truly set up his entire life and his gaming desk in here and refuses to get out.

I've spent more close and intentional creative time with these characters - with Zachary, Dorian, Kat, Madame Love Rawlins particularly - than any others ever in my life and by golly I'm having a great time.

Erin pls read Fateheart and then have an extremely detailed conversation with me about Zachary's backstory, I have so many questions and also I want to know what you think of Leander.

Kidding. Erin owes me nothing. Though I owe her so much creative fulfilment at this point I would hardly know where to begin.

I've always wanted to be a writer, and I've known forever that the way to be a writer is to write. Only in the last year have I fully and confidently begun to claim that I am, in fact, a writer. And that is thanks to The Starless Sea. Some of this fanfiction is the best stuff I have ever produced, and I am very, very proud of it.

(Shoutout Death in the Valley, my beloved.)

Currently editing the latest Zachary/Dorian story to go up on Ao3 later today. It's called 'The Man Named Sky' and it is, courtesy of Katrina Hawkins, another dumb contrived time-travel plot (she loves them). I like this one a lot. It was supposed to be short, and I still think it's short, but it also turned out to be around 27k words, which my friends assure me is not, in fact, a short fic.

Ever onward, ever upwards. Book 4 is already in the planning, and then who knows. My mother keeps telling me to apply my attention to original works but until I have thoroughly and entirely worked through all my many, MANY thoughts about Dorian, I simply shall not be able to, I think.

And I'm having too much fun.

Gonna try to work on Fever Pitch (Set 5 years after Fateheart, 6 - or 9, depending on how you count it - years after The Starless Sea) while I'm at home for two weeks. It's an Alice and Wonderland-themed Starless Sea story, so that's going to be fun.

I have several other little gems to bash out for the extended Fateheart canon collection, and Lotus Flowers rolls slowly ever onward in the background like a slow-cooker pot with a dull red light that fills the kitchen with a slowly growing scent of herbs.

I am a writer!!! I have so many things in progress and so many things I am excited to work on!! And literally all of them are from or about The Starless Sea!! Haha!! WHat!!!!

Anyway. Thank you, Zachary, for the matcha latte drink by my side right now. Thank you Erin Morgenstern for writing a very fun book I like very much. Thank you to my discord besties for being so madly supportive and lovely about everything I write. Thank you to the academy for this little golden statue. Thank you to Mhatma Ghandi for peace and love on planet earth. Thank you Jennifer Coolidge for empowering women everywhere what no what let me finish my speech le t me hELP--

[steelycunt]

hey lovely, how is the ***** au coming. not meant to pressure you or anything, just genuinely curious

hi bab! no worries thank u for asking! its certainly um. well i'd be lying if i said progress is consistent, but definitely even though its not moving much atm i am still thinking about it a lot, so rest assured its still very much alive! im sort of in the phase now where im meant to be plotting and finalising the plan before i actually begin to write it in earnest, and ive gotten stuck here for a while i think just because its so much more involved and detailed and. honesty scarier than what i usually do in all sorts of different ways! length being just one of them. and there's all sorts of facets of the story that im researching and that i need 2 get right and am, to be honest, worried about not getting right, which has maybe become a bit of a hurdle i need to get over to get stuck into it properly. ive written bits here and there (and also rambled quite a lot about them to ren in dms while they have listened like a saint xx hi ren love you xx) and sort of started on the first scene--i personally am not capable of writing out of chronological order for the most part, so while i'd like to share a little something of it when i can, i'd rather share a bit both s and r are in!! and that'll be a couple scenes down the line for me before r wanders in xx he's on his way he's just trying to choose his scratchiest saddest jumper to wear xx but yeah!! to summarise--it's still at the forefront of my mind, but it's just coming a little slowly right now. i'll probably have to take a break from it completely in the coming weeks while i focus on end of year uni assignments but after that, i'll be able to give it some more attention and hopefully will be able to share more of it with you!! :^)

[azikarue]

I think it's time to admit that I'm not going to be posting my fills for the TyHil Love Countdown on time. 😞 Life is full of things that require my energy and attention right now, and I simply don't have enough time to craft the story I want to craft.

I'll post some more details under a cut for anyone who is genuinely curious, but rest assured: I will still be working on the fills these next few months because I'm truly so excited for them, and I'm going to do my best to support the others participating in the event in the meantime.

Hopefully giving myself the time I need means that my fills will be worth the wait. 🤍

For anybody who craves details:

A few months back I made this post mentioning an idea for a multi-chapter story that I had. When the poll came out for the TyHil Love Countdown, I was secretly hoping the set of prompts we ended up with would win, because I knew I could work them into that very same multi-chapter story I already had swimming around in my brain.

And here we are!

I'm really excited to write this story and share it, but I've never come close to finishing a proper multi-chapter story with one overarching plot before. I told myself that, if I ever wrote a fic like that, I'd write the entirety of the story before I even thought about publishing it. I'm not comfortable with posting on the fly because I know myself and I know I'll want to edit the story as a whole unit before posting it. I overthink too much not to lol And there's always the possibility I'll be the only audience for my fics, so I want to be 100% happy with what I put out there.

Since my life is so nuts right now, I definitely will not be finishing this story in the next two weeks. I might not make any progress at all, idk. But I'm going to try, because I'd love to post it early next year.

Soooo, currently accepting tips on maintaining momentum for multiple chapters. And sorry if anyone was looking forward to TyHil from me sometime soon. I don't think it's in the cards, but I hope you enjoy my upcoming fic, whenever it gets to actually coming. 🙃

[typewriter83]

FtW anon here again. One of these days I might reveal myself and drop a message 🤣 For now, however, I'll keep myself safe in my blanket of anonymity. Rest assured, you're not missing out, since my blog is about my other interests and has nothing in relation to JoelxEllie (and never will be since I don't love the romantic pairing enough to post about it haha, just a guilty pleasure where I enjoy the high-quality fics and find it an interesting concept). You're right, we do mesh as readers, considering the fact that I've already read both of the fics you recommended by CatrionaMac and CallMeShephard, and I loved them dearly— especially CallMeShephard's writing, which is the definition of soft, sweet Joellie and has a very natural progression. ❤️ Have you read 100 Steps?

And no, I don't write— which you probably figured out when I mentioned that I don't involve myself in the Joellie fanbase much and prefer to be a silent, lurking reader.

Also, the attraction to Tommy in FtW did throw me for a loop too— but I did spot it much earlier in the fic! It was kinda mentioned several times, as early as FtW2, but there were several segments in A Blanket Of Snow which made it really, really clear that Ellie has a thing for Tommy. ABOS was a major mindfuck though so I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't notice because you didn't read it thoroughly; it's a difficult piece to get through and I haven't read it all, just bits here and there out of curiosity.

I actually did know that Daniels wrote it for his now wife— must have slipped my mind since I kept saying in my other ask that it was his own interest and such 🤣 I, too, am a reader that lurks a lot and likes to read comments and author's notes. It is cute that he wrote such a detailed saga of stories for Michelle. Boy, he must love her a whole lot!

I never considered the ghost writer theory before, but it is super valid! There is a significant tonal shift in some areas which indicates that perhaps there was someone else involved in the writing process, most likely his wife as you said. That's a super interesting theory for sure— but I'm not too sure how likely it is. I'm curious as to what exactly stood out in A Home At The End Of the Road and made you think there was a ghost writer? If you could pinpoint any key moments, perhaps?

Yess, I have the same view of Joel and Ellie and the romance of it all! D&C was exactly what I had in mind when I was talking about your writing being softer in regards to their dynamic. I love them in that story, especially since Ellie is older in your stories. I'm a romantic at heart too, so I suppose that's why sometimes the sexual themes in FtW didn't sit right with me. Not because of the fact that it was sexual in itself (which did throw me a little since she was still 14, but that's a separate discussion), but because it wasn't as heartfelt as other Joellie stories that had those themes, and was moreso Joel agonising over how badly he wanted to bang her— I prefer a healthier dose of lovey dovey saccharine to accompany any explicit content, thanks! 🤣 I'm jesting all in good fun, of course, and not criticising Daniels. I find it kind of hilarious actually how versatile us fans are. Our yums come in all different shapes, sizes and flavours!

Good luck with the Boston QZ story! LOL, writing Joel being a meanie to Ellie must be hard since we just want him to get to the soft and sweet part already.

- Miss Undercover

Miss Undercover, I would never ask you to give up your anonymity. I mean, I hide behind a moniker, too. However, should you ever want to chat - that stays between you and me. I had someone tell me they created a new handle just so they could protect their name but have a conversation - whatever works, Mama will protect her cubs

Listen, we could write entire dissertations on the Joellie fandom. There are less than 500 stories in the tag on ao3, and yet there’s a wide variety of subject matter ranging from fluffy to depraved. And that’s good, that’s what fandom is about. But yes, I tend to stick to the softer, sweet side - unless it’s Pluums and she wants to write some 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ at a theme park, then that’s a bedtime story 🫣🫣

I have read “100 Steps” and I hope Shepard is doing well. He was writing pretty consistently in 2023, but has since stepped back. I would love to see how their story plays out, it’s an interesting concept and I’m here for the slow burn.

“Home at the End of the Road” (let’s call it Home from now on haha) is told in 4 parts: yesterday, today, tonight, and tomorrow. While it does remain consistent with Daniels’ attention to detail, there are a slew of characters introduced, almost leading me to believe there was more planned. Maybe I felt the shift because of Ellie’s attitude toward Joel, which tracks with her suspicions after SLC. The shift to Jackson felt like a whole different story, like it wasn’t part of the universe - but maybe that was the idea? Seeing as they’ll finally settled down? I’m not sure.

The smut - the lemon as he refers to it - was a shift too. Yes, I did catch Ellie’s mentions of Tommy in previous stories - ABOS was disturbing but very well written - haunting in that you were seeing the story through Ellie’s damaged psyche. Something shifted in the last story - and now you’re gonna make me sit down and read it again, because now I need examples, sheesh. I’m supposed to be the teacher here 😉 cubs putting me to work.

Daniels’ take on their inner monologues was definitely a different take than I would have. I’ve dipped my toes in writing a younger version of Ellie with Learning to Walk, and their inner monologues aren’t quite as depraved - but that’s also my take. For me, I don’t let Joel’s inner voice ever say what he wants, even to himself, because if he does, then it makes it real. Instead, he drives Ellie crazy with his grunting and groaning while doing pushups 🤭

I like writing Ellie as a little older in my AUs (24 in D&C and 25 in Am I the One) because it levels the power dynamics a little - he’s a lot older than her, but Ellie has some life experience before she meets him. Ellie already had a career and a life before she explores a life with Joel. In the canon divergent universes, Ellie is dependent on Joel - they’re co-dependent if we’re being honest - and it’s an entirely different power dynamic. Joel held a lot of power over Ellie in FtW, and she was so young through most of the story - I think the final chapter reflects a lot of that tonal shift too, but it’s also supposed to be 10 years later, so maybe he was just writing differently to reflect that. We’ll never know.

We can do a whole other dissertation on meanie Boston QZ smuggler Joel. This AU I’m someday gonna actually write - he tries so hard to be menacing to this girl (she’s 20 and fresh out of training FEDRA officer), but as always, she worms her way into his heart. 🤭

Thanks for coming back! My asks are always open for discussions!

🫶🏻