#This one just took on a life of its own a bit

[facultativeactivity]

Okay, reading back Discord from the time this was an issue, what really went down was this:

For a while I was using LibreOffice for my writing. For a while, it was causing an issue when text copypasted from Libre to Ao3's editor would develop weird formatting errors. Specifically, lines with italicized text and quatation marks had spaces in them that weren't supposed to be there. It was annoying but relatively easy to fix.

Then when trying to upload an especially long chapter, I noticed a new problem. After around half of the chapter, all my quotation marks that were at the start of the line, and some others as well, became italicized even they weren't supposed to be. This time the issue only affected the quotation marks themselves.

Again, annoying but easy to fix - or so I thought. After manually de-italicizing the quation marks that werent supposed to be in italics in Ao3's editor and clicked preview I saw that now most of my text got italicized for seemingly no reason.

Checking the affected line back in LibreOffice, I noticed that even though they showed up normally there, if I highlighted them, the toolbar showed them to be italicized, even thoigh they weren't. Like this:

Experimenting, I copied the text into Word as well, where, just like in Ao3, they appeared in italics. After that, I concluded that the issue must be with Libre, as it apparently somehow corrupted my text, normal lines to appear as italics outside of the editor. I was tired of the whole issue and decided to just move to Word since I had it on my coputer at the time anyway.

Later my laptop that had Windows on it broke and I had to switch to Ubuntu. And what's Ubuntu's built-in text editor? Yeah, LibreOffice. Nah, pal, I wasn't going to do that shit again. So for a while, I went to do my writing in GDocs.

Copying text from GDocs into Ao3, while it was less of a hassle, still caused some crap with formatting, mostly with aligning. That's where I became supicious that I might've been too harsh on Libre. After all it's a widely used open source alternative to Word, and nobody seemed to have encountered the same issue. Ao3 on the other hand seemed to had issues with multiple text editors that weren't Word, or its own native editor. I did some experimenting and noticed that copying text from Libre to various online text editors did not cause the issues I encountered, only if Ao3 was involved somewhere in the process.

The only anomlay I could not explain was why that one chapter seemed to got fucked on in Libre itself. It seemed t contradict all my other experiences. It was already a long time ago, and I remembered being pretty frustrated and sleep-deprived while dealing with this, so I decided I probably did something stupid, like copying back the corrupted text from Ao3's editor that caused it. It didin't really make a differenc for me, as I was mostly writing for Ao3, so I needed an editor that was at least mostly compatible with it, so I just silently apologized to Libre for probably being unjust to it, and kept using GDocs, than later went back to Word.

Only now, reading back on The Incident 1.75 years later did I finally manage to Connect The Dots:tm:

You see, I like reusing my OCs in different settings and stories, and also to collaborative stuff with writer friends, where we borrow each other's characters, or write (recursive) fanfiction to each other's works. This monstre chapter I had so much issue with was kinda special because of a segment that took place in its middle, that was meant to be as both a bit of self-indulgance and a gift to my friends.

It had one of my OCs touch and eldritch artifact that caused her to have some weird 'flashbacks' about events that never actually happened to her. At least not in *that* life. Those 'flashbacks' were pieces of dialoge from other stories featuring her different versions, written by both me and my friends.

And all of those lines were copied from Ao3.

So there, after all this time, mystery solved. LibreOffice can, in theory, fuck up your text, but according to my experience, it only happenes if the document has text copied from Ao3. Also if you write your story in Libre, and it have italicized quotes, Ao3 will almost certainly will mess up those lines. Otherwise it should be fine.

Not sure what's going on between the two, but my best bet is Toxic Yuri.

[eepy-cookies]

I will ask as anon for I’m to scared to ask otherwise but can we please have more art of

Characters: Shadow Milk Cookie x G/N! ReaderContent Warning: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

You made a little story of with that title and I swear you made one art of it and I really want to see more art of it like a little sorry book if that happen if that’s okay for I love the story so much how we meet shadow milk again after we waked up

I didnt made a title at that time since I just want to type a one shot. So I might as well add some explanations about this with only two arts! Oh btw, if anyone is a bit offended by this. I’m sorry. Your warned in advance about the yapping.

About his name: He can be called as either Blueberry Milk Cookie, Blue Moon Cookie, Blueberry Yogurt Cookie, and etc tho its safe to call him Sage of Truth. At that time his soul jam is similar to Pure Vanilla for a good solid reason, it was the first original soul jam but I do want to add a tiny head-canon that there should be a “closed eye” to his soul jam but the canon was just like Pure Vanilla’s. Just like what happens at the Blueberry Yogurt Academy before it was abandoned, it was ONCE his second history wanting to teach the cookies more knowledge while his first being crated. Plus meeting Y/N Cookie allowed him to experience what falling in love feels like.

About Y/N Cookie: They made their own appearance as a mortal cookie but had an incurable illness that the witches made a mistake, but what if it wasn’t and it was part of their experiment? Although it was very cruel Y/N Cookie was one of the cookies who suggested Sage of Truth to create that said academy to not find a way to get the cure but also to create memories that can last through time. But they knew their time is up and yet they wanted to live more just to see him one more time, after all they love him.

About the Incurable Illness: Its hard to find a better title for the name so lets call it “Incomplete Dough Illness” its just similar to humans who had disabilities that won’t let them survive much longer, however even tho it’s incurable it’s incurable since it was THE PAST before modern technology was introduced to the new generation of cookies, wether or not it can be cured it can never be cured despite everything.

The life longer spell: A spell casted by the Sage of Truth before he had become Shadow Milk Cookie, it extended a cookies lifespan thus converting them to become almost immortal, the word almost is that a Crescent Moon needs to be presented in order for that spell to perform well. The consequences is becoming corrupted and if that caster perishes that person perishes with them. If that person is also sealed they are comatose until the seal is broken and if that unconscious person is touched or worse that unfortunately cookie will live the most unluckiest and cursed life till they perish.

What happens to them: Shadow Milk Cookie took Y/N Cookie with him to a more safer place. Of course that would make the other cookies worry but Pure Vanilla told them that they will be find, after all Y/N Cookie is the ONLY COOKIE Shadow Milk Cookie recognize despite them being new in a newer world that cannot go back. Of course this time Shadow Milk Cookie CANNOT afford to let go of Y/N Cookie, they are immortally connected with him but they are still weak so they need good care by Shadow Milk Cookie himself (it has become a connected soulmates). If that makes you happy you can see Y/N Cookie still being sweet to him despite everything, sure it takes alot of time for them to understand but you should know that they are an understanding and wise cookie.

Bonus: Shadow Milk Cookie got a kiss in the end. A comforting one. ❤️

[ranunculussy]

enigma | part 06.

saturday

ꕥ part 01. | part 02. | part 03. | part 04. | part 05. ꕥ pair: Spencer Reid × BAU!fem!reader ꕥ warnings/tags: mentions of IKEA, awkwardness, somewhat oblivious Reid and reader, age gap, slow-burn, mutual pining, rivals to lovers, english isn't my first language so bear with me pls, idk about other warnings ꕥ word count: ~2.5k ꕥ summary: Spencer can't quite figure you, his rival out and this annoys him more than it should ꕥ a/n: hi guys! thank you so much for reading my work. i just wanted to apologise for the shorter chapter and that it took longer to update than usual. i was planning to post this originally around valentine's day but university started and things got a tiny bit busy. [this fanfic is also available on AO3 with the same title and username]

Pouring salt and lemon juice on an open wound would’ve felt like a walk in the park compared to asking for any kind of help or favour. You always handled everything independently and on your own way. You were ready to drop everything on the spot and lend a hand to those who asked but always made sure to deal with your problems by yourself. Among other things, this aspect of yours was a mixture of stubbornness and pride.

So, imagine how embarrassed you felt on that sunny Saturday morning, with your phone pressed to your ears as you anxiously waited for your call to be answered. It’s so dumb, they just got back from the case yesterday. I should hang…

“Hey pretty girl, what’s up?” Derek’s usual playful tone cut through your thoughts, stopping you from pressing the little red icon. You were relieved that you weren’t the one to wake him or at least judging by the lack of raspiness in his tone, he was already up.

“Are you perhaps… free today?” you asked as you quickly paced back and forth in your unusually empty bedroom. One of your cats, who was still very much a kitten, energetically chased after your feet, causing you to come across even less collected, since you had to look out for the little furball too if you didn’t want to accidentally step on him.

“For a woman like you, I’m always free.” Hummed the man at the other end of the line, immediately easing your nerves a bit. You rolled your eyes and let a playful smile spread across your face, which was wiped off just as quickly.

“Ah, for fuck’s sake Nick...!” before you could’ve said anything else, like probably an explanation for why you were calling your colleague, a low scream escaped your lips. “Sorry, my cat is just devil’s incarnate, and he decided it’d be fun to claw his way up on my bare legs.”

“For a moment I got scared that it wasn’t really me you were looking for.”

“Impossible, you know you’re always on my mind, handsome.”

You learned quite early on that Derek’s flirty demeanour was part of his personality and it was never serious when it came to the team. Even in amongst you, he knew that not everyone was open to suggestive comments or playful dirty talk. He made sure to never make anyone feel uncomfortable. Luckily, you were completely okay with this and even became a ‘partner in crime’.

“Okay, out with it. Why did you call?”

“Ah, I need a favour. I know you guys just came home yesterday and it’s totally okay if you say no…”

“Babygirl, I don’t even know what to say no to.”

“Yeah right, sorry. I need to buy a new bed because my last one was older than me and a few weeks ago it decided to end its life, which I can understand. So, I’ve been sleeping on the sofa. I mean, I wouldn’t exactly call it sleeping. And I know that I am even funnier when I’m sleep deprived but now that I’ll soon be back in action, it’d be nice to be well rested, you know. And yes, I could just walk into an IKEA, choose a bed and ask for a delivery, but…” You were definitely rambling and overexplaining yourself, as you did whenever you got flustered or felt awkward. Just like when you gave Reid a gift, you still haven’t recovered from that. The others quickly got used to this, given that they already had a yapper in their company. However, it didn’t mean you weren’t self-conscious if you noticed what you were doing.

“Let me stop you right there. You need help with taking home and putting together a bed, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be there in an hour, but I’m bringing help. These muscles can do a hella lot of things but getting a whole bed to the 7th floor is different.”

“Of course. Thank you, Derek.”

After the call ended, you stood in one place in the middle of your room, trying to calm yourself down, contemplating your life. Asking for a favour shouldn’t make you feel like you’re being hunted for sport. But it did, especially since it included one of your co-workers.

Originally, you planned on getting this done with your brothers, but both were out of the country for two more weeks. You’ve read so many past case files where it later turned out that the UnSubs were previously in one of the BAU member’s homes as maintenance workers or something similar that it made you a tiny bit paranoid. This is one of the reasons why you preferred to fix everything you could by yourself. It was to avoid letting unknown people into your flat. You weren’t that worried about Morgan’s unfamiliar friend though, given that you completely trusted the profiler.

Well, colour you surprised when an hour later as you hopped into the backseat of the black Range Rover Autobiography, you were met with passenger princess Spencer Reid.

“Oh… Hi.” your voice got awkwardly high-pitched. You avoided looking at him both directly and through the rear-view mirror. You weren’t quite prepared for this scenario. It was bad enough that the anxiety caused by being afraid of becoming a nuisance for Derek filled your entire body, now Dr Asshole was there too. And you appreciated the help, you really did. But now this also meant that the man with whom you had an indefinable relationship will enter your home. The home, which was so obviously, undeniably you. It was almost like a piece of your bare soul on display both in a good and bad way.

“Hi.”

“So, IKEA?” clarified Derek before things could’ve gotten even more uncomfortable.

“Yes. I already chose which one I’d like so I won’t be taking up much of your time, promise,” you said and as proof, you held up your phone, with the website open and the specific furniture on the screen.

“Oh, Tonstad was mentioned in a travel brochure I’ve read a few years ago when I was looking for places to visit.” After Spencer took a glance at your phone, his eyes almost literally lit up. He enthusiastically explained what the name of the chosen bedframe and mattress meant. His hands were just as expressive as his mouth. It was sweet, how he probably wasn’t aware the constant movement of his fingers. “It’s a little Norwegian village and was the administrative centre of the old municipality of Tonstad from 1905 until its dissolution in 1960. In 1960, it became the part of Sirdal, and it continued to be the administrative centre there.”

Weirdly, his slightly rambling, lengthy explanation somewhat put you at ease. It was one of those rare moments when his facts weren’t undermining your professional ideas and theories. These facts were simply just facts, it was interesting listening to them, and he was able to keep your attention so much so, that you didn’t even notice how curiously you stared at him.

However, he did. Since you had no reason to use contact lenses on an early Saturday when you weren’t working, those damned glasses were on you again. The sight basically magnetized his gaze to your face through the rear-view mirror, automatically triggering the memory of his weird dream about you from a few weeks before.

For a quick, passing moment he became annoyed. The genius didn’t quite understand why a simple object, invented around the 13th century—with its precursors dated back to the Eastern Han Dynasty in China—had such an effect on him. Spectacles have been around for a few hundred years now, it was quite literally a basic, everyday necessity for almost half the population. At times even he himself had to wear it. So then, why in the hells did you have this weird, unexplainable effect on him? It wasn’t fair, how you were able to cause a ruckus in his extraordinary brain without even trying.

Much to his dismay, he was very well aware how you looked at him from behind. The way the Sun shined on your irises captivated him. All your attention was his. And he had to come to the unfortunate conclusion that he very much liked this.

×××

“Is it okay if I let out my cats now?” you asked the men in your bedroom that got cluttered and chaotic rather quickly. They were in the midst of putting your bed together, however, it didn’t go as smoothly as they planned. Derek wanted to use a simple thing, called common sense, and build the bedframe how it seemed right while Reid insisted on strictly following the manual which he already read and memorised word for word. On top of that, they didn’t let you help them, not even a tiny bit. The one thing that both agreed on was that you’re not going to do anything physically exhausting while you still have a healing wound on your side.

“You have cats?” asked the doctor and he even turned his precious attention from the wooden parts to you.

“No Reid, I just prefer to eat and drink from a bowl on the ground.” the sarcastic reaction came out before you could even register it and, in a way, you almost immediately felt guilty about it. He was there to help you. There was no need for hostility. But you were very much on edge, more than usually, since this was the first time they were in your home. You were aware of the fact that just by looking at the environment you created as a home, he was able to profile the shit out of you, and you didn’t like this at all.

You had various kinds of potted plants everywhere—all safe for your pets—, even on top of stacked books that were scattered around the living room. Your dish rack was filled with colourful mugs, plates and bowls, most of them had different patterns and shapes. You bought the majority of those from artisans who set up stands at different fairs. All of them were unique but the colour scheme matched nicely, making your kitchenware organised and fun at the same time. Some were made to look like a blooming flower, some had animal or geek features on them. Penelope was over the moon when she first saw it, so much so that it wouldn’t have surprised you if she sneaked a few out of your place at the end of the occasional get-togethers.

The bookshelf at the wall between your kitchen and living room immediately caught Reid’s attention, but assembling your furniture was the main priority, so he forced himself not to pay much attention to it. Secretly though, he hoped he could take a closer look at what you read and by what system you organised your books, just so he could possibly get to know you more without having to engage in your usual bickering.

Before the doctor could’ve answered your last sentence, you took a swift turn and left your bedroom. A few minutes later the sound of long, drawn-out meows filled the small flat.

“Yeaaah, I know, I know. I’m sorry.” you answered to your pets in a high-pitched tone. The first one to run out of the bathroom was an adult, slightly chubby black cat with deep, amber eyes. You found her and her brother—the sweetest little calico, who was still chilling in the cold sink, even though you opened the door for him to leave—on a hot summer’s night, during a storm that was one of the worsts you’ve ever seen or experienced a little more than two years ago. The kitten named Nick, is an entirely different story. You found him in a dumpster, near your apartment, squaring it up with a raccoon. He hasn’t calmed down ever since. “But I locked you up for your own sakes. And it was only for half an hour.” To this, another long meow was your answer, to which you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They were dramatic, for sure.

“Should I consider my win on the last case as a result of you, not having a bed?” Reid’s voice almost made you jump; it was so sudden. He was leaning to the doorframe, curious eyes diligently taking in every single tiny detail of you and your surroundings. You were in the process of taking the sweetest little prince out of the sink. The long-haired calico was rather scaredy and hated unfamiliar people but was a total lovebug for those whom he knew. Unfortunately, the tall profiler wasn’t amongst these persons, so the cat’s instincts took over and, in a blink, he clawed his way out of your warm embrace to hide behind the washing machine.

“Shit! Daisy…” you yelped as you became more and more aware of the tingling, hot pain that spread across your upper and lower arms.

“Ah, I… Khm. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I knew he is afraid of strangers, I should’ve left him alone, but I felt guilty about locking them up for the time you got the bed to my room.” you explained the situation while you started to clean the shallow injuries with some warm water. There were only a few scratches, luckily, but they burned like hell. “The other two will be okay, though. Jordan usually sits on top of the cat tree and judges everyone while Nick brings doom and destruction to all things in existence.”

It didn’t require much brain power to put two and two together, Spencer almost immediately recognised the connection between the names of your cats, however, he didn’t mention a thing. He wasn’t sure how you’d react, and he didn’t want to start a fight. Up until now you’ve only met each other outside of work when the team went out for drinks and even then, you tended to avoid interacting with him. So, instead he silently reached for the soft, salmon-coloured towel and handed it to you, his watchful gaze never leaving your figure.

thank you again for reading my work, hope you're having an awesome day! i hope it isn't a problem that this fic is getting longer, i'm just taking slow burn seriously (only thing i can do lmao) taglist: @halfbloodwriter @starrystormwritings @kspencer34 @maisyyyyyy @theseerbetweenus @throwaway-things divider from @cafekitsune gif from @reidgif

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: february 2025

I can't believe that with all the bullshit nonsense of this year I've managed to read ten book a month for two months in a row. it's not on purpose but it's crazy that it's happened twice!

what have I been reading?

The Art of Frugal Hedonism: A Guide to Spending Less While Enjoying Everything More (Annie Raser-Rowland w/ Adam Grubb, 2017; audiobook read by Alice Ansara, 2024) - this was my first audiobook, and it was a doozy. the short version is that this book sucked and made me so, so mad. I really hoped to have my scathing haterade-fueled review up on patreon by now so that I could link it, but that hasn't panned out because I just have too much to say about these out of touch cunts offering the world's least qualified financial advice. "just take a leisurely twelve hour hike to a train station instead of going on vacation" kill yourself!!!

The Age of Magical Overthinking: Notes on Modern Irrationality (Amanda Montell, 2024) - I quite liked Montell's previous book, Cultish, but unfortunately I fear Magical Overthinking was a bit of a flop for me. I can't help but feel that the ideal target demographic is extremely anxious women in their teens and early 20s who need a compassionate explanation of why they should spend less time on Twitter and TikTok, and I'm afraid that shrimply isn't me.

The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World (Robin Wall Kimmerer, 2024; audiobook read by the author) - this was, unintentionally, a lovely little counterpoint to Frugal Hedonism. where Raser-Rowland and Grubb focus deeply on individual consumption habits and have a bad penchant of commodifying human interaction, Potawatomi botanist Kimmerer emphasizes the need for structural environmental change that can come by embracing Indigenous models of viewing the earth and its resources as members of crucial members of the family deserving of respect. a thoughtful and lovely balm to the bullshit!

My Year of Rest and Relaxation (Ottessa Moshfegh, 2018) - a book about the original queen of giving us nothing, as our protagonist goes to increasingly drastic lengths to spend as much time as possible asleep and disengaged from anything more complicated than acquiring more prescription pills. what can I say? I love books about miserable rich white women rotting in their own self-absorption.

Don't Want You Like a Best Friend (Emma R. Alban, 2024) - this was my patreonites' pick for my romance novel of the month, and I'll admit I went in nervous - historical romance novels are often not my thing, and the Taylor Swift lyric for the title was a red flag. but you know what? this was a romp. I was entertained. dare I say I was even charmed. sure, it falls into the common historical queer romance pitfall of emphasizing the vague threat of period-typical homophobia while assuring us that every important character just so happens to be startlingly cool with homosexuality, but whatever - I didn't come here to see these girls get hatecrimed by their own parents, alright? I wasn't planning to read the sequel, but it turns out it's a VERY direct follow up where the girls from this book hatch an INSANE plan to (SPOILER ALERT) get their male cousins to fall in gay love so that they can lavender marry each other's cousins and live happily ever after. INSANE! I love it here.

Dawn (Octavia E. Butler, 1987) - on the one hand, I'm a little heartbroken. this marks the beginning of the last of Butler's series that I haven't read; after Adulthood Rites and Imago, I'll have read everything she published in her too-short life, with no new works to look forward to ever again. but on the other hand: MAN, am I glad I saved this one for last. this book has it all: humanity's near-extinction. aliens. psychic tentacle threesomes. maybe the biggest L that any of Butler's heroines ever took. it's wild out here! cannot wait to see where we're going with this.

Iron Widow (Xiran Jay Zhao, 2021) - this was a reread to prep for the sequel, Heavenly Tyrant, which came out in December, and MAN am I glad I decided to check back in with the first book. I really thought I remembered the broad strokes of the plot well enough, but I really did not remember just how blood-spittingly bugfuck viscous Zetian and her two boyfriends are. of the three people in this throuple, the nicest one is the guy who murdered his brothers and dad in cold blood. and I think that's awesome! cannot wait to see what these absolute freaks are up to now, and my hold cannot come into the library quickly enough.

Pardon My Frenchie (Farrah Rochon, 2024) - okay. listen. on paper I shouldn't like this book. the male love interest is boring at best and a full-blown shithead at worst. the biggest driver of the plot is the love interests' dogs going crazy levels of viral. the sex is minimal and nothing to write home about. and yet. AND YET. our female lead, Ashanti, is simply so charming and earnest and plucky that I adored her immediately. girl lost both her parents on the same day, had to drop out of veterinary school to raise her twin younger sisters, and is struggling to run the world's most plush doggy day care AND run a successful side business selling homemade dog biscuits. truly I just want anything to go right for her, ever. she's never even been eaten out prior to this book, and that makes me so, SO sad for her. I may not like her boyfriend, but at least he'll get her off, and that counts for something. overall, it's Ashanti's storyline about learning how to prioritize what's important to her and let some obligations go instead of clinging madly to everything that really got me through and won me over. plus, this book bypassed by usual kneejerk dislike of obnoxiously cutesy plot device pets in romance novels by making the dogs actually completely integral to the story and the characters - Ashanti is hugely defined by her adoration of every dog she meets - in a way that I really enjoy. will I read the upcoming sequel, Pugs and Kisses? fuck it. maybe.

White Feminism: From the Suffragettes to Influencers and Who They Leave Behind (Koa Beck, 2019) - Beck's book falls in a really sweet spot of building very well on a lot of feminism 101 to actually meaningfully discuss new concepts without being redundant. okay, yes, you've heard "white feminism" is bad, but do you know why? Beck has some of the most well laid-out explanations I've ever encountered, thoroughly detailing the ways in which white feminism reject collectivist anti-capitalist action in favor of individual advancement within the status quo. plus there is, as promised, a great historical throughline, contrasting the actions of historical middle and upper class white feminists against those of actions largely headed up by women who are Black, brown, Jewish, and/or immigrants who served entire communities. the takedown of "lean in" office girlboss culture is particularly killer.

Acts of Service (Lillian Fishman, 2022) - a short novel, ideal for reading in a couple hours if you love mess and happen to be trapped in various airports and flights with not much else to do! I was expecting another entry in the obnoxiously disaffected young woman genre and was pleasantly surprised by how curious and engaged our protagonist, Eve, actually is! much like Edie of Luster, I think she's gonna be alright once this deranged throuple situation blows over. ultimately I don't know if the conclusion of the novel hit for me as well as Luster did, and when I got to the end of the book I did kind of find myself going damn... and what was the point of all that? I have no idea, but it was well-crafted and I'm glad that I didn't read this like six months ago because it probably would have killed me with toxic horny poisoning at that point in my life. I'm normal now.

[bubblez-bubble]

The Alvarez Arc was never about Zeref vs Natsu.

It was about Zeref vs Lucy.

Hear me out.

And this may be a bit of a stretch but try to bare with me.

So the Alvarez Arc (AA) is essentially the arc of one brothers army vs another's. At least on the surface. But the main focus of the AA was Natsu's transformation and Zerefs reveal.

After Zeref reveals his and Natsus true identities to Natsu and Happy, Zeref then makes it a point from then on to try and get Natsu to change into his demon form, knowing that Natsu would probably have a hard time controlling it and would destroy everything and everyone in his path just to kill him.

Thankfully, Zeref was only half right. As evident by his four warnings to Gray to get out of his way, Natsu still had some form of control over his actions. This was because his only thoughts were getting rid of Zeref who started the war leading to Lucy's "death." He was driven by revenge, which was what Zeref wanted, as to why he painted himself as the bad guy.

But one thing Zeref hadn't really counted on was Natsus bond with one of his guildmates in particular. Zeref knew who Lucy was from the jump as she and Anna look basically identical. That and Anna and Zeref agreed it would be up to Anna's bloodline to look after the original eclipse project as well as the dragon slayers once they passed through to the other side. So right away, Zeref knows Lucy's goal is protecting Natsu and staying by his side.

So during the AA, it only makes sense that at every turn when Zeref thought he was winning, Natsu would make some miraculous return and start the fight over. But did Zeref know why or how?

Of course he did. Because that was the Heartfilia family's job. To protect and look after the dragon slayers, Natsu included.

So, when Zeref almost got his way the first time and Natsu "lost control," who brought him back to reality (with a little help from Erza)?

Lucy.

When Natsu was knocking on deaths door on the ground with a hole in his gut, who literally took on a curse that Zeref placed on the book, essentially risking their life to rewrite Natsus book, bringing him back from the brink of death to fi is the fight?

Lucy.

Even during Dragon Cry, Lucy is still a thorn in Zerefs side by showing Natsu throughout the movie that she'd always accept him no matter what form he took on, giving Natsu a sense of security, making Zerefs plan to break Natsu down until he's a mindless monster essentially impossible.

Every time during the AA and Dragon Cry movie when it seemed Zeref was finally going to get what he wanted, Lucy came in and snuffed all of his plans out like a candle.

And Zeref by the end could only watch as a human tamed one of his demons. His most powerful demon at that.

Lucy was even almost kind of acknowledged as Natsus reason to live. (As he did try to kill Zeref fully conscious of what he was doing and knowing it would kill him too when he thought she was dead.)

Zeref even tried to play mind games with Natsu but got blocked because the only thing on Natsus mind was Lucy and her life.

The entire AA is literally just Zeref telling Natsu one thing to make him feel terrible and Lucy reassuring him that it wasn't true.

Zeref even tried to make Natsu feel guilty about Lucy rewriting his book, essentially signing her own death warrent, only for Natsu to brush it off because he had more faith in her than some curse Zeref put on a book.

Every time Zeref tried to get into Natsus head, whether Lucy was there or not, her voice always seemed to ring through louder than Zerefs.

The entire arc is a battle for Natsus mentality and its not even being fought by Natsu.

Natsus fighting the physical battle, but Lucy was fighting for Natsus humanity. She was fighting for Natsus life.

In the end she won, and Zeref took the loss with a smile on his face, knowing that somehow a human girl had defeated him in a mental battle over his brother's life.

And he even took pride in it.

Pride in the fact Natsu had found someone who would go to such great lengths, even so far as challenging Zerefs curse power in order to save Natsus life.

That's what the whole arc was, a battle for Natsus fate. A battle that Lucy won and Zeref was happy about it.

Even Mavis knew only Lucy could challenge Zerefs power and change Natsus fate, leaving Lucy with the book as she went to help Natsu confront Zeref.

The one who decided Natsus fate vs the one who changed it.

[marbofmoorock]

TADC X STANLEY PARABLE AU

Narrator: A Foppish Britian, often rambling about himself and his own voice as he narrates Stanley's life, yet Stanley cannot hear him, (you can just assume all of the narrating is him)

Stanley: Employee 427, an office worker, whom loves day to day pushing buttons

The Bucket: silent, yet Emotional Metal Container of Water or whatever else

TADC cast as well.

C&A ADVENTURES: Digital Circus?

Narrator: This is a story of a man named Stanley. He worked at C & A corporation, pushing buttons and doing his work as he always did.

But today, all of his coworkers were gone, what could it mean?

Stanley: Where is everyone?

Stanley, not hearing the narrator speak and sitting at his desk, peeking through the crack of the door to see none of their coworkers at their desk

Stanley, not knowing what to do, decided to investigate himself as he recieved no assignments to do.

Walking about, he wandered the corridors, seeing next to no one, which concerned Stanley as he walked, darting his eyes to see if there was anyone there.

He came to an open area with two open doors on the right and the left. He remembered the left room led to the board meeting room and the boss's office, and the right door led to the break room and the warehousing facility on the other side of the C & A building.

Unsure of which was the better option, Stanley decides to sit between the doors.

Stanley: Where is everyone?

Stanley sat for a bit and decided to think about his favorite thing in the whole wide world:

Circuses.

He absolutely loved how the circus came to town. C&A would pay for everyone to go see the circus when they were in town. It was Stanley's favorite day of the year. He loved seeing all of the amazing acrobats and dancers, and clowns and animals, and the blistering sounds of the ringmaster. What a lovely thought it all was.

Then that thought was interrupted by a clunk sound of metal hitting a floor.

It was a bucket, hanging on a doorknob in a corner with scaffolding, likely leftover from the painters who were repainting half of the office walls.

The Bucket, clean and empty without paint, rolled over from where it fell, tapping Stanley's shoe.

He picked up the bucket, observing it:

Stanley: Why hello there. You Took quite a tumble.

Stanley got up and decided to hold the bucket by it's handle, joining him on his adventures.

Stanley: Okay Bucket, let's figure out what's going on!

Stanley and the bucket check in each h of the door ways, finding no clues nor anyone in sight.

Stanley was concerned, but not alone as the bucket stayed by his side.

Wondering what to do next, Stanley decided to walk back to his desk and hang out until his shift was over.

On the way back Stanley walked by a set of computers and heard a faintly cry:

"Help..."

Stanley was immediately alarmed, looking around for the source of the voice in this way too quiet office space.

He saw an open door leading to a more dimly lit room. Inside, he found a load of headsets on tables nearby, and one computer screen brightly contrasting the rest of the darkness. Getting closer, he could see a face on the screen. It looked like a cartoon character of some sort.

Stanley came closer seeing this face look in all directions not noticing him, yet darting it's eyes in all directions. This character looked like a Jester with its red and blue stepped hat with dangling bells, and red blue beach ball eyes.

Stanley was now only a few feet away, curious as to why a cartoon was being streamed on an office computer. Something didn't seem right.

As he got closer, the screen seems to change, as if to depict another cartoon environment, resembling a circus tent.

Stanley was confused, but also intrigued, as he saw more cartoon characters featured in this shot, including one of the characters he just saw.

This character seemed like they were about to snap, seemingly going crazy from this sudden change.

Then it cuts to yet anothe4 shot, one that shows the cartoon characters super happy.

Stanley thought this was odd, but still continued to watch.

Then it was like a cartoon started with these characters being greeted by this floating character with giant dentures for a face with two floating eyes between his teeth.

Stanley started to feel nostalgic, remembering his childhood, deciding to watch the show, (which was TADC but more in a live action documentary style). Stanley assumed an episode was playing, so he watched this colorful cast of character go on an adventure in Vegas where they all learn how to play poker, which was kinda interesting.

Then the episode cuts to black, and Stanley wonders what was that.

He looks for a DVD or vhr as the footage looked grainy and kinda old, but he didn't see one.

Stanley pondered what he had just saw and figured maybe the help he heard was part of the episode.

So Stanley decides to not question anything and leaves the place with the bucket.

After his shift and over, he decided to leave the facility and head home, calling up every number to check up on what's going on as well as report the misuse of computers in the office.

Some of the corporate hotlines told Stanley that the company had gone under, and had given everyone pink slips, and Stanley had missed the memo.

Stanley later saw in the news the C&A building roped off and locked down by feds, but the public does not know why.

Stanley was later called into questioning by the FBI, and their investigation. Apparently this "cartoon" in question was a video game of some sort that C&A had made in the 90s which was secretly a portal to another dimension, where the internet is manifest as this open world of surrealism and computer graphics and art. Apparently, it was called "The Amazing Digital Circus, and many people are trapped in this universe, viewable by the computer screen with many invisible cameras, sort of like it was a reality show of some sort.

Stanley told them all be knew, and was let go.

Stanley then went home and spent time with his new bucket friend, whom provided caring emotional support, almost as if the bucket secretly loved Stanley.

TSP x TADC (prompt by @deadblog-sbdc)

[taintedmind6669]

Do I have an ongoing Billy Batson fic that I’ve been avoiding working on for months? Yeah. Anyways heres this open-ended drabble I’ve been keeping in my notes app since November

Trigger warning for mildly graphic descriptions of life-threatening injury, its not super bad but if you’re sensitive to that kinda thing you prolly shouldn’t read this

SOS

No no no no no this could NOT be how he went out. Not from a stray bullet fired during a drug deal gone wrong. Billy clasped his hand to his stomach as he ran, gasping for air but desperate to get away lest the criminals turn their focus away from each other and onto the little kid who had been snooping on their business and had let out an unfortunate yelp upon having been shot directly in some very vital internal organs. Billy wasn’t sure how far he ran, time was beginning to swirl and slide away from his grasp with every heavy footfall and little black dots speckled the corners of his vision, threatening to take over his sight entirely.

   He hadn't even intended to investigate the pair’s shady dealings, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong form, seriously, the one time he wasn’t getting the scoop for his radio gig just had to be the one time he got mixed up in something genuinely life threatening. Billy’s rotten luck was starting to really get on his nerves. It took a lot to get Billy well and truly worked up, especially when it came to injustices enacted against himself as opposed to civilians, but come on? There was only so much bad luck he could endure before wondering if perhaps some other pantheon of Gods had it out for his patrons and decided to take it out on him. Most Gods weren’t exactly known for their emotional maturity.

   Minutes and seconds congealed into one mass of sticky uncertainty taking up space in the forefront of Billy’s mind, he couldn’t focus, the air in his lungs was leaving him faster than he could replace it with shallow shaky breaths.

   Fuck, he was really going to die in a dingy alley as Billy Batson, the homeless runaway that shoveled peoples driveways for a little extra food money. He bit back a cry of agony as he dropped down against the wall of a building, he couldnt tell what building his was leaned against, he couldn’t recognize the street, he could barely see through the dark fog circling his line of sight.

   He pulled his cold pale hand away from the bullet wound, his heart dropped at the fuzzy sight of blood gushing out, eager to vacate his body’s rapidly dying husk. His already red shirt turned a deep crimson-black in a wide circle around the hole. He couldn’t think straight, his eyes shook and pain pulled at every inkling of a thought he managed to form, somehow, he gathered just enough strength to pull his Justice League communicator out of his pocket.

With limited control over his trembling fingers and a weak grasp on consciousness Billy sent a message to the unofficial leader of the Justice League.

Billy’s last thought before the dark dreamless sleep pulled him under was that he should really look into luck spells if he happens to survive this.

…

A shout pierced the quiet Gotham night, like the chime of midnight, echoing and demanding attention.

Batman and his ward zeroed in on the sound that served as a verbal spotlight, the scuffle was relatively simple: a masked man grappling with a woman for her purse while stood on the doorstep of a skinny and sad looking apartment complex.

Robin looked up at Batman with starry eyes, Batman responded with a curt nod, allowing his sidekick to handle the situation on his own while he observed from the nearby rooftop.

Bruce could tell the aggressor was young based on his stature, his body language hemorrhaged inexperience by the gallon, it seemed like a safe enough bet for his student of a little under 3 years to handle alone.

Just as Robin had finished tightening the zip ties around the perpetrator’s wrists Batman felt a buzz from his JL communicator. It wasn’t often that Batman received an alert on the device, he had made it very clear that the communicators were only to be used in the most dire situations or if there was an urgent matter the whole group needed to discuss.

Half expecting to find a message from Flash about the Watchtower being out of granola bars, Batman pulled the device from his utility belt.

He was mildly surprised to find that it was Captain Marvel who had messaged him, it wasn’t as though the hero was too proud to ask for help, it was simply that the “World’s Mightiest Mortal” didn’t typically need it.

The last time Marvel had needed the assistance of the Justice League on Fawcett business was when Mister Atom was on a rampage, exploding buildings faster than Marvel could evacuate them and the demigod had asked for help getting civilians to safety while he dealt with the robot.

Batman glanced back at his protégé, he watched Dick hand the woman her purse with that boyish smile on his face and he felt a warmth bloom inside of him. Robin could manage babysitting the would-be purse thief during the few minutes it took for the cops to arrive at the scene, in the meantime he could read the Captain’s message and determine the next course of action.

Upon opening the message Batman’s eyebrows furrowed and that warm sense of pride was washed away by a distinct concern.

“SOS”

The message was joined by a little square with a blinking red dot smack dab in the middle, matching red text underneath the dot displayed the hero’s exact coordinates.

As if on cue, red and blue lights illuminated the street, Bruce gestured for Dick to leave the man and follow him, the authorities were close enough that the man wouldn’t be able to run far enough to get away. Batman and Robin were never really known for staying to chat with Gotham PD, a pattern which would have to continue as now the two had somewhere to be, and a demigod to save.

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Eighteen: incoming call

tw: none

Your phone is ringing. 

You almost don’t hear it. With the speakers on the TV cranked up loud enough so you can hear the documentary, (Simon tried to put the captions on for you so you could also enjoy the show, but the latency between your eyes and ears made your head throb) it drowns in the mess of noise in the living room. It takes the flashing screen to get your attention. Unsticking yourself to Simon’s side—a place you always seem to be these days—you lean forward on the couch as your arm extends toward the coffee table. 

Buzz buzz! Buzz buzz! 

It vibrates so fiercely that it dances on the table before you, and when you take it into your hands, it rattles your bones. It trembles in your palm like a creature being held by its creator—its destroyer. 

Incoming Call from Captain Jack Sparrow

“It’s Row,” you say, mostly to yourself. Part of you is surprised it’s not Bee again, who has been calling you incessantly ever since you took your unofficial break from Sapori. 

Simon hums in response as he reaches for the remote and mutes the TV. Your thumb hovers over the answer button, but an unexplainable trepidation wreaks havoc on your heart. Still, you answer. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey! Chip, I… Did I wake you?” Aelin’s voice croaks on the other end of the line, stiff and still shaking off the morning fog. 

Brows narrowing, you shake your head. “No, I’ve been awake. Just… watching TV. What’s up?” 

“Nothing.” Her reply is quick. Too quick, and sharp enough that you know you shouldn’t push unless you’re ready to bleed. “I just wanted to call. Check in, all that stuff. John and I got back home the other week and I miss you.” 

Leaning back, you situate yourself against Simon’s side once more. Over the last few days, you’ve been so caught up in your own life. The mess of your apartment that Simon squared away, Marco, your kiss with Simon and the subsequent ones after that… you nearly forgot all about Aelin and John’s trip. The Maldives, right? That sounds correct. Someplace more temperate than England this time of year. 

“Right, your trip. How was it?” 

“It was great. Wonderful, really. John got a bit more sun than he should have, though. You should’ve seen him, he looked ridiculous. Bright red like a lobster,” Aelin humors. 

Somewhere in the background of the call, you can make out John’s voice. Static overtakes his words, but whatever he says gets Aelin laughing. The sound of her titter is contagious enough that it gets you giggling, but you stop when you feel the tension in her voice. 

There’s something empty about her words, as if you’re only hearing the echo of her voice instead of it emanating from the source. Sniffles break through the line every now and then, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was crying. Every now and then she quietly chokes on the tail end of a word when it forces her to use the back of her throat. 

“Are you feeling alright?” The question leaves your lips before the realization completely forms in your mind. When she doesn’t respond right away, instead of letting the silence sit, you fill it with a half formed explanation. “Sorry, I just—well—you sounded a little congested, I guess.” 

More silence follows, and for a fleeting moment you’ve convinced yourself you’ve said something wrong. Something out of turn. Then, there’s a long draw of breath. 

“Oh, you know. Just… one of those days,” Aelin says. 

Her words ignite a memory that begins to flicker as a lone flame in some forgotten corner of your mind. Shoved back into your sixteen year old body, you find Aelin on the kitchen floor in her mother’s house. Hair undone, back against the cabinets, her fist chokes the neck of a beer bottle as her feet tap against the tile. She’s an adult, but this is her childhood home. You’re the stranger here, and she apologizes to you for the mess. 

When you ask her what’s wrong, she only shrugs. 

Just one of those days. 

It’s a stupid question to ask. Her dad has been dead for only a week. 

She doesn’t invite you to sit next to her, but you do anyway. Just far away enough that you don’t touch, yet still close enough to feel the feverish warmth of her intoxication. You don’t say anything, but she talks about everything. Voice tense, body loose; every time she starts to cry she drinks until the tears are burned away. 

Tell me about him, you say. 

And she does. She does. 

“Do you want to come over? To mine and John’s?” Aelin asks, pulling you out of your anamneses. “I could come pick you up so you don’t have to take the bus. We could watch a movie or something.” 

The smile on your lips bleeds into the tone of your words. “A movie sounds great. And don’t worry about it, I can have Simon take me.” 

Simon’s ears visibly perk like a dog that heard the word treat. His body shifts, arm falling around your shoulders and pulling you closer, but he doesn’t speak. 

“Oh?” Aelin’s voice quirks the way it always does when she teases you. A broiling heat tingles in the tips of your ears as the realization settles in; you talk so easily about Simon now. As if he’s always been in your life—like you’ve never felt any other comfort besides him. There’s been a missing chunk of your skin, and he’s filled it so perfectly with the shape of his body. “You’ll have to tell me all about that, too.” 

With plans created, you bid each other goodbye, and when the call ends, you’re stuck staring at your phone screen. 

7th of January

Well past the day you were supposed to pay your late fee to Marco. 

It’s today. It’s—

“I take it we’re headed to the Price’s?” Simon asks. 

Shutting your phone off, you nod. “Row wants to have a girls day in.” Setting your phone to the side, you look at Simon who’s staring at you with tightly pressed lips. “What?” 

“Don’t like the thought of you goin’ anywhere without me,” he admits. He thinks on his words for a moment and feels the odd weight on his tongue and the sour implication, then explains further. “Not while all this shit with Marco is happening.” 

“I won’t be going without you. You’ll be the one driving me,” you retort. “You really think Marco would do anything at Aelin’s house? At John’s house?” 

Mulling it over, you see the way Simon’s teeth chew on the inside of his lip. “Alright.” 

During the drive to Aelin’s, Simon holds your hand like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. Fingers interlaced with yours, your knuckles begin to ache at how wide you have to spread them to accommodate the width of each digit. Eventually, they begin to hurt so bad you have to settle with him holding you princess style, and even then his thumb traces the dips and peaks of your knuckles as he memorises each curve. 

Things have changed between you and Simon, and it’s more than just in the superficial circumstances in which your lives have become intertwined. He’s sparked something inside of you. This entire time he’s known you, he’s been watering a grave and something has finally begun to sprout out of the stone. Something’s growing—something you swore was long dead. 

His touch is the first touch that does not make your skin crawl—that does not smell like blood. His lips are the first to press against yours that do not maim, and now that you have a taste for it, you’re not sure you can ever live without it. 

Aelin’s house comes into view and you’re suddenly plagued with an odd apprehension. It’s a strange and vicious penitence that begins to slither around your heart before constricting tight enough to evoke a wicked jolt of pain. By the time Simon parks next to the curb, you feel every molecule of air leave your lungs. 

“I won’t be far,” Simon tells you as he squeezes your hand. 

“Plan on staking out at the park?” you tease. 

“I might,” he deadpans. 

Simon’s hesitancy is palpable. His fingers feel so tight against your own that you think you’ll have to pry yourself out of his grasp just to leave. Dark eyes scan your face as you look at him with a small but reassuring smile, but not even that offers him comfort. 

“I’ll just be a text away,” he continues. 

“Si,” you laugh. “It’s gonna be fine. I’m gonna be fine. Besides your house, this is the next safest place to be.” 

When he still doesn’t seem convinced—staring at you with firm eyes and a clenching jaw—you find yourself leaning over the center console. Falling into the gravity of him, your lips find his just as easily as if you were taking the path back home. Eyes fluttering shut, somehow this union is able to quell the squeezing in your chest. He is warm like fire, and you can taste the pepper he used to season his eggs for breakfast. 

His free hand cups your face just as you pull away. “I… Call me when you’re ready.” 

Aelin answers the door not even three seconds after you knock. Fresh popcorn wafts around the entryway as she greets you with a tired smile and glossy lips. Red traces the delicate line of her eyes, making the aqua hue of her iris pop. Stray tears seem to linger along her waterline, but you make no mention of it as she ushers you inside before the bitter cold steals too much of your warmth. 

Blankets and pillows obscure the couch in the living room, and you nearly gawk at the obscene amount of food laid out on the coffee table. Two large bowls of popcorn, various bags of small candies—Jelly Babies, Maltesers, Imperial Mints, among others—and of course, refreshments. When she had mentioned wanting to watch a movie together, you hadn’t imagined anything like this. 

“John may have gone a little overboard with the treats. He’s left the house to just the two of us,” Aelin chuckles as she begins to fight through the nest that’s been made of her couch. Clearing a few of the blankets to the side, she sits and then pats the spot next to her. “Come on, grab a seat then.” 

With a plush blanket tossed over your lap, and a comically large bowl of buttered popcorn nestled against your hip, you and Aelin settle down for the movie. It’s some chick flick you’ve never heard of, but you end up not paying attention to most of the plot. Not even five minutes into the film, Aelin twists her body so she’s facing you with a grin. 

“So… tell me about Christmas with Riley.” 

Really, you should have expected this. She’s been trying to get the two of you together since October, of course she would be curious. 

October. That’s how long you’ve known him? Only that long? That doesn’t seem right. Your body aches and sings as if you’ve known him your entire life. 

Still, you tell her everything, and you make sure not to skimp out on any details, lest she attempt to fill in any of the blanks for herself. You tell her about the quiet drive to Manchester, and how loving his family is. You gush about little Joseph and sweet Mrs. Riley. You talk about the food you ate and the bed you slept in—how polite Simon was through it all—how he enveloped you in his arms when the world started to feel too small. 

You don’t stop there. You lament about how he comforted you when you came home to find your apartment a mess—weaving in a little white lie about how it was wracked with water damage from a burst pipe while you were gone—and how he’s been letting you stay with him. How he insists on you sleeping in his bed. And—

“Seriously?”

—the kiss. 

“I dunno, it just sort of… happened,” you admit sheepishly. 

“In his bed?” Aelin confirms. 

You nod. “We had just woken up.” 

“And then?” she asks, tone leading you on. 

“What?”

“What happened after that?” She asks her question like there should be something more—some vivid details you’re meant to share. 

You blink. “Well, then he asked me if I wanted breakfast.” 

Aelin’s lips turn into a small pout. Not anything patronizing, but rather in the way you look at a child when they say something sweet—something innocent. 

“Oh, Chip. I’m so happy for you,” she says, head leaning back against the couch. The more you talk, the more the red in her eyes seems to soften to a dull pink, and the less she sniffles. “I’m just… so glad you found someone.” 

For your girls day in, you and Aelin end up watching two movies back to back; both being less than subpar romance comedies. Each time the male lead does something stupid, she always throws in her two cents about what to do if Simon does that to you, which leaves you rolling your eyes. Then, of course, there are the obligatory and awkward sex education courses she gives you during anything remotely lewd. 

“That’s not how that works!” Aelin huffs as her teeth crunch into more popcorn. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, poking at the kernels in your bowl. 

“She was magically wet enough for him to just slide in? Like that? No foreplay, just kissing? Yeah fucking right.” She playfully tosses a small bit of popcorn at you from across the couch. “If Simon ever tries that shit, you blue ball him, okay?” 

After a few hours, when the sun begins to scrape along the horizon, both you and Aelin begin to yawn. John returns from whatever escapade he set off to do, arms and hands occupied with bags from various stores around the city. He smiles and greets you the same way he always does before waving at his wife to keep seated—mutters something about how he can put the groceries away himself. 

Of course Aelin doesn’t listen. One thing leads to another and the three of you are in the kitchen weaving around one another and storing items. It’s a strange feeling, assisting them with such a task. There was a time where you once lived in this house; where you once did these very same tasks with them. They took you in shortly after you had graduated since you hadn’t secured an apartment of your own. John and Aelin were freshly married—after a brutal broken engagement due to Aelin’s previous fiance cheating on her—and still they treated you like you were no bother to them. 

When they convince you to stay for dinner, it’s as if nothing’s changed at all. Everyone cooks together. Cleans together. Eats together. Your spot at their table is still the same as it always is. 

Ever since your parents died, your family was shattered, but you manage to find their fragments in others. Here, with John and Aelin. Sometimes with her mother. Now, in Simon’s family. 

As you look down at your phone to check the time, the date shines brightly at you. 

7th of January

You wonder if Aelin feels the same. With her family shattered; with losing a part of herself in her father. Your first ever meeting was at his funeral. You were both dressed in black, both sporting the same irritated eyes. Sean had told you so much about her, and instead of greeting her yourself, you hid from her. Tucked yourself away in some corner of the funeral home, unable to bear the weight of facing the daughter of the man whose death you caused. 

She found you anyway, of course. 

She always does. 

When eight o’clock rolls around, and you feel like you’ve thoroughly stayed your welcome, you give Simon a call. Aelin pretends to be occupied with something else as she clears the table, but you can see her slow, deliberate movements and the way her eyes keep flickering over to you. 

“Is everythin’ alright?” It’s the first thing that spews over the speaker. Worried about you as always, your Simon Riley. 

“You’re silly,” you giggle. “We’re just about wrapped up here if you wanna come pick me up.”

“On my way.” 

He knocks five minutes later. It’s such a short amount of time considering how long ago you called him, and it even catches John’s attention. It’s quickly brushed aside as Aelin swaddles you in a hug. Arms locked tight against you, you fear she plans to keep you forever, locked away where the world can’t see you. She whispers a quiet thanks into your ear before releasing you, allowing you to return back to Simon. 

The ride back to Simon’s house is surprisingly quiet, but he seems less anxious than he did when he dropped you off. Hand carefully absorbing your own into his, he lets the radio drone on for a little while until traffic begins to pick up in the city. Incandescent lights brighten the shadows of the street, smothering the stars that would otherwise be in the sky. Everything is bitterly grey and cold. 

“How was your visit?” he asks as his thumb taps against the back of your hand. 

You lean back against the headrest as the vibrations of the road cloak your body. “It was good. I think… I think Aelin really needed it.” 

“Yeah?” he prompts. 

“Yeah. I dunno, she seemed like she’d been crying. I don’t know what about but… Sorry, I don’t know. Just a weird feeling, I guess.” 

For a moment, Simon doesn’t say anything. Despite the crowd of cars around you, everything is oddly arcadian. No sound makes it to your ears—only the beating of your own heart. 

“She called John the other night while we were all at Terminus working. Couldn’t really hear much, but she was cryin’ about something,” he informs. “Might be goin’ through some sort of rough patch.” 

“Yeah just having… one of those days,” you echo. 

You’re in the kitchen again. On the floor. Aelin is talking about her dad. She smells like beer and roses. She’s recalling the story about how Sean obtained a scar on the side of his elbow—an accident while teaching her to ride a bike as a kid—and all you can think about is the wound in his stomach. Fighting the queasiness that grips your gut, you stare at the floor. 

Linoleum. 

For a moment—a single, fleeting moment—you think about telling her about the way you were picked apart in front of your mother’s body. Maybe if you show your wounds, it would make her feel better. Ultimately, you decide against it. Your wounds don’t make her father any less dead. 

Your wounds don’t make it any less your fault. 

“What’s on your mind, baby?” 

Nothing good. 

“The anniversary of her dad’s death is today.” Saying it out loud feels like an admission. Some avowal of your guilt in the fact that he no longer draws breath—and now each one you draw stings. “I keep thinking about telling her. I wanna tell her about everything. I do all the time. There’s not a single moment when I’m around her that I don’t think of just… you know? But I can’t.” 

Simon hums, thinking for a short moment. “Why not?”

“Because she’d hate me.” 

“She wouldn’t hate you.” His answer comes just as quick as yours, sharp and unfaltering. When you don’t respond, he continues. “She wouldn’t. That wasn’t your fault.” 

“But it is my fault,” you mutter. 

“It’s not,” he interjects firmly.

“If I had just lied like they told me to, he would still be alive,” you retort. 

“And if Marco hadn’t threatened you, you never would have had to worry about it. Just like you wouldn’t have had to worry about it if Marco hadn’t killed your mum, which never would have happened if your dad hadn’t aligned himself with Makarov. And I’m sure something else forced his hand to make him involve himself in that mess.” Simon pauses, eyes straying away from the road for a split second to look at you. All you can do is stare at your lap. “Actions and reactions, sweetheart. That’s all life is.” 

A rigid obloquy slithers around your stomach until it has your intestines weaved into knots. You are stuck at the intersection where shame and guilt meet grief. It exists all at once inside of you; coalesces in a heaping mass in the cavern of your chest. There is a desperate want—a pitiful plea—for your contriteness to cleanse you. 

All it does is remind you that you will be forever sullied. 

“You did what you needed to do to keep yourself alive. That was a reaction, not an action,” Simon continues. “Everyone thinks that they could’ve changed their pasts if they just tried hard enough, but that’s not how that works. Sometimes, things just are the way they are.” 

There are several flaws in the lesson he tries to teach you, none of which you bother to point out. Things would have gone much better had you thought about someone other than yourself during the moment Marco made his offer to you. You could have taken that deal. Halved your debt and ran off with him to do whatever he wanted to do. Your parents would still be dead—broken fingers, slashed stomach and all—but Aelin would have had a perfect life. 

Not that you would have been around to see it, but you think you could have shouldered all that if you had known at the time. 

“I know you don’t believe me,” he says softly. “That’s alright. We’ll work on it.” 

You nod just as silent tears begin to fall, and you use your free hand to wipe them away. It’s frustrating, being as weepy as you are. You think back to the laundromat when Marco kissed you, and how he cooed at your sorrow as if it were some sweet delight just for him. He told you not to cry, but you could still see the enjoyment lurking in the mossy shade of his eyes. 

This anguish would smother you if it weren’t for Simon. He does not whisper at you to keep quiet, or demand that you make your sadness bite sized and easy to swallow. Wordless, he raises your hand up to his lips where he kisses your knuckles as if there’s some sort of physical wound for him to mend. You don’t know if it’s because of his care, or because of something else, but it helps. Your heart quells, as do your tears, and he lowers your hand yet still refuses to let go. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“Course.” 

He replies like it’s obvious. Like his help shouldn’t even be thanked—it’s a fact. Something he yearns to give. 

Things fall quiet again as the car weaves through traffic, but Simon’s presence is loud. The way he squeezes your fingers. The heat of his palm against yours. Despite the tears that danced on your cheeks just moments earlier, you smile as you allow yourself to melt into him. 

He’s right. You don’t believe him. But you think that you’d like to someday.

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates get early access to chapters here

[sfmothdaddy]

Ghoap exchange!

Hello there friends, I had a lot of fun working on this little fluffy drabble... that sort of took on a life of its own. This gift is for @mortem-writes ! They had asked for something with freckle reverence. so please, enjoy (I did not beta this at all, honestly it kept getting longer and longer and work had me pulling doubles and 12hr shifts and... well, I decided to be an over achiever I suppose... *ahem* there is art.... but below the cut. Freckles Paring: Ghoap Rating: M Words:2025

Johnny was lounging back on the bed as Simon was in the shower. They had been together a while now, though what they had was so much softer than their work. Spending time together, cuddles, fumbles in the dark.. In all honesty, it felt a little like school age years all over again. 'Sept of course this time he was a grown man and so was his surprisingly shy partner. Ghost was forward and blunt about many things, but physical intimacy was not something that he had a lot of experience in, as well as relationships in general.

Like the word Boyfriend, it felt too juvenile for what they had and so Johnny just never used it. There was a strange almost unspoken rule that neither of them would use that word. Instead they opted for "mine" or "partner" as a much more... grown up version of the term. Something that Simon seemed to enjoy.

It had taken a while for Simon to open up to Johnny about some of the things he had survived, the things he had gone through... but even before he had ever spoken a word about it Johnny had told him that they would take whatever they wanted to call this at Simon's pace. Some of the things that he had learned made Soap want to commit murder, but Simon had assured him that there was no need for him to feel that way. If he happened to pop round Price's office to confirm that later was his business.

From the bits Simon had gifted him of his past, Johnny had learned that the lad had the bare minimum (if that) experience when it came to romance of any kind. Thus making it Johnny's personal mission to shower the man with as much romance as he had the opportunity to do so. Hence why he was sitting on the bed and waiting for the man himself to exit the bathroom so he could ask him how his little solo mission went. Currently Johnny was focused on the little sketch book in his hands, once more sketching the facade of a skull over a baklava.

So intensely he was focused on his art, that he had barely noticed when Simon had stepped up beside him, towel wrapped around his waist and another drying his hair. "What are you working on?" That manc accent he had become so accustomed to jolted him from his shading.

"Oh jus' some-" The words died in his throat as his eyes zeroed in on just how much skin Simon had exposed, though to be fair his eyes never left the man's chest. Most of their time together in close quarters was in the dark, neither one of them feeling up to turning on lights when they both were accustomed navigating the dark. However, now, there was so much skin on display it was like a feast for his eyes. The scars that dotted Simon's skin were a testament to the horrors he survived, the tattoos that speckled around giving vivid splashes to the pale flesh, but what really got him were the freckles. The man was littered with them, like a veritable milky way of adorable little spots across his skin.

"...Johnny?" There was a bit of something in Simon's tone that had the man quickly looking up and into those dazzling brown eyes Johnny liked so much.

"Ye- fucking bonnie bastard." There was awe in his tone as he carelessly tossed his little sketchbook onto the floor and stood to bring himself closer to the man in front of him. Simon blinked, clearly confused, the towel he had been drying his hair with limply falling to his side. "Ye dinnae tell me ye had spots! Ye see me drawin ye all the time! I'd imagined, I suppose, but... yer fucking breathtaking, ye ken?" His words ghosted over the man's skin and he could see gooseflesh appear on the mans arms. "Steaming Jesus, Simon ye have no idea what ye do to me...." Blue eyes traced across the skin of Simon's slightly crooked nose and down to his chest, all the wile noting freckle after countless freckle.

"Are you freaking out over... my freckles? All I did was spend too much time in the sun-" "Donnae do tha, no. Ye are bonnie, and braw and ye will take the compliment ye bawbag. Me mam used tae say tha freckles were angel kisses." Simon scoffed, but he seemed to relax a little. "Come on, let me look at ye a little more, no every day ye let me see this much skin all at once." "Maybe, you could return the favor?" Simon's eye brow raised as he turned and grabbed a pair of boxers and slid them on under the towel before running the towel once more across his chest and catching the few water drops that he had missed and sitting on the opposite side of the bed than Johnny had been sitting on.

Johnny thought his brain had rebooted there for a moment as he spotted the freckles across the mans back, he could not wait to pull out a fresh sketchbook later... "oh now ye've done it...."

[atypical-artisan]

A MEGA REVIEW OF EGG

This is my mega review of all the current chapters of @tonitheloftwing's 'Egg' as a (Late) birthday gift for him! Also including a mock up of a fic cover image for him too!

Review will be by chapter and include my initial thoughts and re-read thoughts separated by a line.

~

If you're to lazy to read the in-depth review:

Egg is good. It's very realistic and balances it's darker themes with wonderful warmth and charm. The character chemistry is excellent and the main focus, Bianca, is such a sweet woman trying her best. Give Mac ur love and go read it on AO3!!!

Chapter 1:

Initial thoughts: Good setup! Warm, inviting, it really feels like a mother’s love when reading. A little surprised by the ‘house on fire’ metaphor near the end but it’s a small bump. It’s a pleasantly short into that introduces us to Bianca's warmth well and starts the story off on a high note.

~

As said in the first read through/review: This chapter exudes a warm atmosphere. It’s clear that Bianca is a loving mother, putting Mac before herself always, doing everything she could to make him happy, paying attention to his interests, playing with him without being cruel, letting him go off on his own without being clingy, etc. It’s a good start for the whole premise of the fic!! It tells a lot about her character in this stage of her life and is a good contrast w later scenes. On the surface it may seem a little slow but upon reread it’s really excellent in how it references aspects of future stories and sets up her character. So bravo work!!

~

Chapter 2:

Initial thoughts: Genuinely pretty funny Chapter! It still retains the “warm memory’ aspect of the previous chapters while adding airs of sweetness and humor with Mac’s finding of a cat. It feels pretty realistic for a young child! On top of that the introduction of Mac’s biological father is interesting, especially with how him and Bianca almost immediately fight, distracting them both from Mac to a dangerous degree, and how he comes late to clocking out of work. His approach to parenting feels distant and lax, while Bianca is realistic and trying to keep Mac in order.

~

This chapter is greater than I remember. I really appreciate that u chose to keep Mac as Mac for the most part cause it’s a hell of a lot easier to read like this. Mac's attachment to his dad at this time is really clear but it’s also painfully clear how little his dad cares for Mac and Bianca's time and how little he regards the safety of Mac. While Bea is stretching herself thin w him, worried sick and terrified when their two year old runs off. Mac's dad just laughs, takes a photo let’s the baby keep the damn thing without regard for the landlord. He wouldn’t survive a day parenting alone. And it’s clear to me Mac likes him so much cause he spoils him in a way and teaches him bad behavior. A darkness within but still keeping warmth.

~

Chapter 3:

Initial thoughts: Interesting chapter! A lot darker and colder than the last two from the get-go it’s really great! It’s a bit of a sudden shift but the aspect of dealing with the emotions feels really well done and well paced. It’s clear both Mac and Bianca are seriously struggling but trying to get by and it feels pretty realistic. There are some moments, like the one in the car where Mac is explaining his emotions- that feels older than what a 5 year old should be capable of expressing and took me out of the story a bit but it’s still really well written. Maybe if that one aspect was cut up into a smaller monologue it would have worked better for me. The broken glass was a really hard hit and the little hints you give to Mac's autism are really cool!! I also like the element of strict gendering kids do here its a nice setup to future trans aspects of the story. Overall a good, darker chapter!

~

Though upon reread this chapter is less jarring, it’s still heavy hitting and a hard shift in tone from previous chapters. Some of Mac’s words feel really adult here but, Bea implying he’s mimicking his father makes it make more sense. The part where Bea is broken up about the wine glass is really powerful- even if someone hurt us we can still miss them and want to preserve our happy memories of them and it can be horrible if we can’t. Honestly this scene suck to me so much that I got an inkling of autism in Bea from it. Egg is a menace- breaking Bea's heart like that even tho he gets wet food. Plus painful chapter title damn. And Mac parroting how he’s been raised by her is a sweet touch, it feels realistic.

~

Chapter 4:

Initial thoughts: Interesting choice to make his deadname something ppl frequently hc as his name! Oooh very dark aspect of her suspecting Mac’s autism symptoms are from learning abusive behaviors form his dad. Hmm and Bianca being resistant to therapy and the idea he’s autistic? No bueno. Also Interesting is her pushing herself so hard when she does have extra support. She’s like a lot of parents- without a life outside of her kid. Kim seems like a good friend and Bianca is really resistant from moving away from Mac or focusing on other ppl outside of the small circle. OH DAMN YIKES ON MAC THO. Poor boy having such a bad breakdown over everything. Really interesting how his dysphoria is manifesting. On the surface it seems like he might be anxious about the sexism of other kids but we as readers know there’s something more going on. Good chapter! Less dark than the previous but not as warm! It’s a good blend of darkness and light!

~

Rereading this chapter hit hard tbh. Mac's anger and gender distress at the end was just as hard to read as the first time and Bea's attempts to hide her financial troubles, brush off her friends suggestions, and overall clinging to mac are still really clear aspects of her personality. Mac and Bianca's writing feel really realistic to p much everything mentioned here. Like u mentioned the first time, I like how the gender thing could’ve been interpreted as anxious girl afraid of bullies because ppl dislike how they're not femme enough or are just sexist in that time and not something like Mac is trans. Seeing Bianca be hesitant to admit that something is different abt him is also cool as is her hesitance to seek ppl outside of her kid.

~

Chapter 5:

Initial thoughts: Really interesting how tense Bianca is about everything. That really seems to be a staple of her personality when Mac is young compared to when he was a baby and when he’s older. And ooh yay Doc!! I can already see Bianca is noticing a lot about him! Him and Bianca have a smooth chemistry already, warm and inviting! Doc is really charming and his banter with Bianca is really natural!! And LOL even in the middle of a dream scenario Bianca is still nervous af abt mac. Ngl the whole kids convo feels a little rushed for a first meeting BUT it actually works p well considering Bianca's entire personality here. And hey once again Doc being Prince charming! There really is a warmth brought back in this chapter from the previous two, it’s a nice change of pace and the ramp form anxiety to warmth is nice. LOL I also love the pen hunting thing you got- very cute. Ngl I really love Doc's enthusiasm here, it’s so sweet and good to read for Bianca. And DAMN Bianca, back at it again with the anxiety. I love how she affirms herself tho, really great. Still just delicious banter between her and doc. Even when they get on edge it’s not bad and it’s still so smooth! "Her name sounded so beautiful on his lips” <- YUM LINE.

~

Another great chapter to reread. It does a great job at really stretching Bea's character out to be on full display. She’s incredibly high strung, focused on Mac, yet when Doc comes into the picture a more forward and flirty side comes out of her. And Doc is incredibly sweet and pleasant- a prince charming for real. It makes sense for both of them to be a little shy and awkward but the date is really smooth and it feels really good to read. I’m surprised by how long Bea and Frank were together from at least 20 to 35 holy shit. No wonder she’s so wrecked about him it was at least 15 years- her entire young adult life- down the drain. Doc and her getting together at the end feels rewarding and it’s nice to see Bea come out of her shell to chill.

~

Chapter 6/Stiff Peaks:

Initial thoughts: DAMN already we got a “fuck me please”- really hot stuff. Holy crap I regret not reading this earlier. Not only does it keep up such great banter and warmth between them but it feels so real and sexy! And Doc's insistence on clear consent is so cute too. And God Bianca at the end of her rope is so funny. You really do know how to make sex so fun! The pet names are such a nice touch and both Doc and Bianca feel so mature and real here. And Jesus dude your descriptions are absolutely delicious. Just so sweet and charming and good. And even the little break between just amazing!! I REALLY regret not reading this earlier! God just hot hot hot. Amazing everywhere. there were like 2 lines formatted a little wrong but I barely noticed lmao.

~

This chapter is incredibly sexy and I love it. It masters one thing that a lot of smut fics, and really horny fiction, easily fails at and that’s the art of desire. Bea and Doc really really desire each other and you can read it in every line. It holds the whole piece together so well. That on top of their already good chemistry and easy banter makes the porn feel very natural and mature yet still vulnerable and real. That is a real skill to have in terms of writing smut. And I really love how you weren’t scared to make it awkward in a few places, you weren’t scared to have them tease each other. It feels so great that even when you did describe a lot of action it felt incredibly sexy and still in the mood. I definitely appreciate how patient Doc is during it all.

~

Chapter 7:

Initial thoughts: GOD ok, dude how do you write Doc as such a prince charming? He’s so attentive and sweet and open, Ugh he’s perfect. Esp his eagerness to look after Mac is just so cuteeeee. And God poor Mac still being broken up abt his dad n Doc promising to be better- he’s just the best! A marshmallow fluff ass relationship. Okay Mac being observant enough to sense a boyfriend is CUTE and so is the following stuff with Bianca reassuring him and getting ready. Doc is cute af again being so sweet. Doc is so good with little Mac augh!!!! Mac is such an excited little darling- I love how Doc keeps engaging him sm. Mac returns to being well written as a child! He feels so much like a 6 year old it’s cute af. And again the mood is warm and charming! I really love Mac's attachment to doc- it’s a bit quick, but makes sense with the story you’re telling. Love how willing and open Doc is, always trying to be on Mac's level! His earnestness about wanting to make Bianca happy is just fantastic. And the last few paragraphs of Bianca observing the two of them is so good, esp that last line “I want him to be with me as long as hell have me” is so GREAT

~

Another reread chapter with a ton of warmth. They all feel real and in their correct ages. Doc really has his prince charming thing going at full power like damn he’s so charming Mac immediately wanted him to be his new dad. I was expecting Mac to hate him at first but i like that he doesn’t and can tell not only how great Doc is but can be read to think of him as a way to fill the void his bio dad left. Bea is the patron saint of eternally tired mother’s, this woman is absolutely run ragged and she definitely needs the help, it’s honestly cute how Mac doesn’t understand but also sad. And Doc being so emotionally open and vulnerable with Bea and with Mac, it’s wonderful to see. Last line blew me off my feet obviously.

~

Chapter 8:

Initial thoughts: Aight, good on doc for helping the ever anxious Bianca!! And yay mac starts boxing!! RAHH DOC AND BIANCA BEING A MUSHY GUSHY COUPLE!! LOL the Yankees joke dhfbfjdj. Ur really funny lmao. I love the little convo Doc and Bianca have about Mac growing up, us so sweet and charming how much Doc loves her and wants to be in their lives. And damn Doc being anxious? LOVE. It’s so sweet how Bianca wants to help him too augh!!! And their banter is as smooth and fun as ever- you’re so great at writing good chemistry! And OOOF Doc being such a sweet, caring, attentive partner scared he’s gonna fuck things up? Goddamn, love it tho!!! Banter and convos are a+++++ you’re so good at them dude. I really like how Docs relationship w Bull has affected his mental state a lot!! It feels realistic, as does the dialog! It feels a bit like they’ve been to therapy but not enough to be super distracting, it also feels very mature! Also the “bald bull mention” with the emoji fucking SENT ME.

~

I really love how this chapter mirrors the last one in terms of story- chapter 7 involves Bea's fear of sharing what’s troubling her in a current problem and finding a reassurance w Doc and now Doc is getting reassurance from her for a past problem. It’s really nice to hear a bit of Bea's backstory here, the story about the bats was charming! Doc's moments of vulnerability are really great here too and his anxieties here make a ton of sense considering who he was dating. Bea being able to be the prince charming for Doc is really great! It’s brings a nice balance in their relationship that i was starting to feel lacking in the previous chapters. And, omg, the last paragraphs are so cute- them discussing their future together just ❤️

~

Chapter 9:

Initial thoughts: UH OH BIANCA'S SICK. My instant thought was pregnart but I know that’s not gonna be it lol. I find the perspective shift and interesting choice! Is it pulling from Doc's memories now? Oh hey Mac's in therapy! That’s really great! Oh no! My heart is fucking broken dear god! At least Doc is fantastic at comforting poor Mac oml. You’re really good at writing angst too. The whole bit about Mac feeling responsible for his dad leaving him and Bianca is so sad yet so real and sweet AUGH. Doc really is best dad fr. Its so nice to see him be so open and straightforward w his affection. Also Mac asking Doc to marry his mom LMAO. Little surprised almost 2 years have passed already tbh. But I’m happy it’s not making big time jumps either! It feels a bit like a slow burn and it’s nice!

~

This is such a sweet chapter tbh. I love how Mac feels really safe to be vulnerable here and Doc focuses so much on loving Mac and showing him a safe person rather than giving to his base emotions. It’s so damn mature!! Mac is still incredibly well written and has great chemistry as he does with Bea. Mac's worries are so heavy and it’s great to hear he’s been to therapy for it, it’s even greater to see Doc handle it with grace and reassure Mac that he’s a safe person. Now Bea being sick… well on my first read i didn’t expect it to go where it did but it’s a very obvious tell lmfao. I was unsure of the pov switch at first but now I’m really into it. It gives us a great opportunity to see Mac and Doc alone! I’m curious if we’re ever gonna see Mac's pov.

~

Chapter 10:

Initial thoughts: Oooh alright, very intriguing intro here! Considering pregnart is a very scary thing! Poor Bianca!!! She’s already very anxious she does NOT need this too. Kim is such a good friend- poor Bianca breaking down and her being a saint. OH DAMN SHE REALLY ARE PREGNART HUH. And DAMN you did a good job on Doc's reaction- charming and great as ever!! Augh Mac's stupid bio dad- I hope he explodes. Once more ADORING the banter between Bianca and Doc it’s just so good!! They’re so in love it makes my heart ache. And GOD THE LAST LINE. How are you so great at ending chapters? All this good stuff has me TERRIFIED for the future my God. Mac doesn’t have a siblings so… what’s gonna happen good lord it’s a scary thought. Excited for the dread tho!!

~

WHOO BOY BIG CHAPTER. First off, I really like the pregnancy reveal and how anxious it makes Bea- she SHOULD be anxious cause this is a very rare scenario!! But even more I love how we know that he relationship w Frank and fear of him makes her scared if a lot of things, even though doc is so nice to her. It’s very realistic!! Doc's reaction is so damn sweet, nothing could be more perfect. Kim is an angel of a friend as well and it’s really great to see Bea have so much support. Mac being a little unbearable and Bea holding back her frustration is honestly cool to see!! What’s also cool is the hint that “Bea thought mac was a boy”- v clever. Now… as happy as I am for the new parents… I’m deeply worried. Bro u keep hinting that they’re gonna break up and this younger siblings WASN'T in the potluck (no comment in your own words) and frankly this has had me SO STRESSED. Bea hinting that her pregnancy was traumatic is not looking good. It’s genuinely had me worried! I’ve been thinking abt it non stop since I first finished the fic!! Do NOT break my heart bro.

(Editing Charlie: I read the tags, ik u will and forgive u)

~

Overall thoughts:

Egg is a really great story so far and the character chemistry and development is interesting af. I'm SO excited to see where it all goes and can't wait for the next update. Pls read it.

[arcane-ish]

So, my new fandom is real life politics or how Silco and Vander sort of changed my life

I actually wrote this back in the fall of 2024, before Arcane season 2 aired. I thought about posting it like … the week of Arcane premiering but it felt odd because the US election was around the time and in that context… it just felt wrong.

Anyway, you probably don’t know me, but it was like this: Back when Arcane originally aired for a while posted slightly crazy amounts about it. I’m the kind of person who loooooooves long philosophical and analytical exchanges and collecting information.

And then I dropped out cold turkey.

This is not unusual for me, I’m a fandom switcher. Except in this case the new topic I switched to, the two “fandoms” were somewhat oddly related.

I love the concept of Arcane and the themes and dualities it portrays. I love many facets of it, but a major poison of choice for me was Silco x Vander, followed by Timbomb aka Ekko x Jinx. And a big part is pondering the conflicts and different politics of their world view.

And just one major factor was imagining what the politics and lives of the young Vander and Silco looked like and why they fell out. I’m not a fic writer but I’ve tried to dabble (usually too scared to post stuff or too waffly to finish stuff). I thought a lot about what their younger lives might be like (inspired by some fanarts) and doing a litte bit of research into other political figures and how their political movements started out, just what the dynamics in a group like that might be, or just what kind of plots would make sense.

This kind of crossed into my genuine dissatisfaction with real life politics. And now, it’s not the big one that affects the most people, the US, with Trump and everything. I’m from a small European country, our elections already took place and the also sucked (and though it’s probably hybris a lot of the time it feels like we started it or at least were very early). I think a lot about the rise of the global right and how to oppose it, how it interlocks with and blocks so much having to do with climate change, how modern technology promotes radicalism in various shapes, how the right is straining for culture dominance again and is building its own ideology and whether or not the fracturedness of of public and cultured life influences this.

The main reason why I wanted to get involved is … I just really, really hate the guy who leads the way too successful far right in my home country. I hated all the ones before him too, but for various reasons this one feels even worse and not just because of the global influence of Putin. I just didn’t want him getting into power and me wanting to do something to help the opposition to him. I just felt that there was something bad in the air and I wanted to get involved even though the next election was quite a bit away at this time.

And yes a tiny bit was thinking of it of fic research of what discussions and relationships in small pub backroom political groups actually feel and work like. Like even if I washed out of the scene again, at least I would have fic idea, no?

I feel like I’m kind of lucky because my home country actually has some deep old political structures and it’s been kind of interesting trying to navigate through them.

To be honest: trying to get involved was a huge leap. If you try to look at it as a “fandom” it’s just so unfamiliar that it’s just all in real life, giving tons of real life people your phone number. Especially since I’m a person who has always tried to stay deeply pseudonym-based in fandom and never attend any fandom events, I always tried to keep real life and fandom life very separate and to now have a hobby, a “fandom” that doesn’t allow it, was very harrowing. But I decided I wanted to do, because I think the situation is serious and it’s worth it.

One thing that I found interesting how in some parts, the kind of low level politics I do actually does remind me a ton of fandom. To have those low level, normal people sitting around and trying to organize a party or a march or a discussion event and advertise it, form or revive a club, it reminds me so much of fandom and all the fandom weeks and zines and big bangs and art contests and fanfic gift exchanges that people are doing. Fandom I think has taught me a lot about people’s generosity and what people are willing to do just for passion and community. Fandom actually is a good example of something great and amazing that doesn’t run on straight self interest logic. And if it works in fandom, why shouldn’t that work in politics as well? I certainly know that I want more of that out there in real society.

I’ve always felt a little bit on the margins of fandom, because in the end I’m not a fanfic writer, I’m not an artist. But I’ve found my niche I feel in mostly writing long rambly metas and identifying the people who also do that and who like me get joy from gabbing on like that. And by cheerleading and encouraging the talented people in fandom and maybe trying to connect then, carry together and compile information. This is ultimately what I kind of hope to do in politics as well. I don’t want to get elected for anything. I don’t want to stand in front and give speeches. But I do want to identify the people who do that and who I like and believe are well meaning and encourage them and help them be more well known and maybe try to carry out some of the ideas that I think are important. And maybe on occasion find some people to have the real world version of the long fannish conversations with that I enjoy so much in fandom.

So yeah, because of Zaundads, and the fannish encounters and discussions I had because of them, I asked myself a lot of question, about myself, about sexuality, about organizing, about good and bad and what I believe in.

Generally, my plan was to just take a short break from my political stuff doings just long enough to watch season 2, shout about it like maybe till the end of the year and just like before dip out. I fully blame the @zaundadsbigbang for forcing me to stay in at least till that is done. XD

Right now I try to juggle both.

It’s funny. I was hoping to also do politics like I do fandom, where I dip out after a certain amount of time. Ideally, after “the job is done”, where I have encourages the local opposition parties to suck less so they can stand on their own.

But yeah, now with Trump in office, it sure looks like the job isn’t going to be “done” any time soon or just bewhere I think I can just let it slide and trust other people to handle it while I do nothing.

I dunno, I’ve been thinking on whether I should post at least some of my politic-y thoughts to tumblr. Or at least share some real life stories/historical stuff that I think kind of fits Arcane.

Like, one thing I have been thinking about a lot in regards to Arcane (and how it wasn’t a story concerned with politics and revolution in the end) how exactly how we tell those stories and how we can forge them and make them be appealing and believable. And I think Arcane is just a very good sample or jumping off point in that regard.

I dunno, I haven't decided yet.

[uncleasad]

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

So back in Chapter 3 of @the0fi’s lovely Kate Bishop/Yelena Belova fic Red Post-Its (which I read because 1) they’re a fantastic writer and 2) they said you could see a bit of Hosie in there, and, yeah, as promised 👍) there’s a scene involving Kate, Kamala, and Yelena, where Kate hopes certain events don’t end up in one of Kamala’s fanfics. And, well, we never got to see if they did (which I suppose means they didn’t), but my mind wouldn’t let go (never mind I’ve only seen one of these characters!). So a few days ago it gave birth to a tiny little fanfic for another fanfic involving writing fanfic! Fics all the way down! Ficception!

—

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

Kamala Khan played those words over and over on her own journey home. She and Kate had planted a trap for a bunch of thugs in a warehouse, and things didn’t go quite according to plan. Nothing they couldn’t handle, really, but a Mysterious Stranger suddenly appeared and provided an unexpected assist…beat the crap out of all of the thugs near Kate. (Well, all but one, who’d managed to knock Kate to the ground.) And then the stranger helped Kate up and uttered those four words before disappearing into the night. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

The voice was steady, belying any emotion, but there was something about it…the tone? the cadence?…that made Kamala sure there was more to it. It was accented, Slavic…probably Russian, maybe from Brighton Beach? And definitely female.

Kate had never mentioned a partner. Or a trained friend, for that matter…besides Clint. And this Mysterious Stranger…Mysterious Friend…was definitely too professional to be one of the LARPers. Was she a spy? The newest Marvel’s mind continued to spin, considering the possibilities…this was even better than her fanfiction!

There was definitely an undercurrent of not just concern, but tenderness, in the woman’s voice, Kamala was sure of it. Maybe it was a gut feeling? But she knew she wasn’t imagining it, playing those sounds over in her head again.

When she’d asked Kate, “Who was that?!” the CEO-by-day, Hawkeye-by-night had answered “A friend,” but the smile that took over her face told a different story.

Was Mysterious Friend Kate’s…girlfriend?

Kate’s girlfriend, an international agent, a foreign spy?

That would be one reason for Kate never to mention the woman to Kamala. Not that she thought Kate was doing anything wrong; she was sure the new Hawkeye had thoroughly vetted Mysterious Friend. And not that Kate was in any way obligated to reveal her private personal life, either; they were teammates, not sisters.

The Pakistani-American teen’s imagination began to run wild. Maybe the two met when Mysterious Friend dropped in to help Kate in a fight in a warehouse, not unlike tonight. Ever since then, they’d been passing each other in the city in the way that only spies do. Secret rendezvous in coffee shops, where they stole longing glances at each other across the room, leaving love letters taped to the undersides of their respective tables. Passing each other on the subway, pressed against the windows, cars going in opposite directions. Perhaps one time they both found themselves in a crowded elevator, slowly moving towards each other as the occupants got in and out on various floors; eventually, they were pushed together, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the back, the tips of their fingers touching. And watching over Kate, silently, in the shadows, as she patrolled, perhaps taking out unseen threats to her girlfriend with a thrown knife, never making her presence known. Except Kate would know. She would feel Mysterious Friend’s love radiating through the city, helping to keep her safe.

When she arrived home, Kamala rushed to her room and opened her laptop, starting a new fic. This was too good not to write. She began to type.

“Home safe, Kate Bishop.” Hawkeye had just taken out a nest of petty crooks when a knife-throwing mysterious stranger had emerged from the darkness. The only prior indication of the stranger’s presence had come moments before, when the glint of steel in the moonlight caught a knife in mid-air, a knife that had then embedded itself in the right gastrocnemius of one final crook. He was either trying to escape or to get the jump on the dark-haired heroine, whose back was to the man. Whichever was the case, it didn’t matter to the stranger. Kate Bishop whirled around upon hearing the crook scream in agony and then crumple to the ground. She had an arrow nocked, drawn, and aimed in the direction from which the knife had come, even though she had neither seen nor heard it. When Hawkeye caught sight of the stealth suit emerging from the darkness, she lowered her weapon—and an enormous smile spread across her face. “Thanks,” she greeted the mystery figure softly, the smile being joined by a blush spreading across her cheeks. If the Mysterious Stranger had acknowledged the gratitude, it was imperceptible. The figure then spoke a single line of heavily-accented English, “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” She—for there was no doubt the voice was feminine—then melted back into the shadows whence she had come, leaving Kate Bishop alone with the neutralized crooks. Kate Bishop whose face was hot, red, and giddy. Kate Bishop whose heart was beating rapidly, but not from adrenaline nor from danger. Kate Bishop, whose fingers traced her lips as she remembered the feeling of another set of lips pressed against them. Kate Bishop who, in that moment, was no longer a deadly archer, but instead a besotted schoolgirl. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” The words echoed in her head as she restrained the incapacitated crooks for the authorities. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” They followed along with her as she moved through the city. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” They were not a request nor an order. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.” They were a promise. “Home safe, Kate Bishop.”

FIN

—

No idea what Kamala’s fics might be like, or what her internal monologue might sound like, or, well, anything 😳 But this idea was too good not to write, and that line, those four words, wouldn’t leave my head, so here we are. Enjoy, I hope?

[sunshinesickies]

Not proof read. Just wanted to get something out for the last day of Feveruary. Don’t worry I will catch up to the days I missed. Been a hell of a couple weeks, but hopefully life will smooth out enough soon for me to have some actual time to write! For now enjoy this fic of Vi on her period and Cait fussing over her. Based on two requests I had in my inbox for Vi on her period, one request by 🧸anon and another anon request. (Also I’ll add a picture later)

Feveruary Day 28— “Well it sounds to me like you need a bit of TLC”— CaitVi/Violyn

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence and prison

“Shit again?!” Vi groans as she curls into herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her abdomen. A uncomfortable pain was shooting through her once again and it made her simultaneously nauseous and incredibly irritated. She hasn’t felt like this in, well, years.

Vi tries to think back to when she last had her period only to come up with nothing. She’d been 15 when she was unjustifiably taken to Stillwater, so she’d known about and gotten them for a while. She can remember getting them a few times in prison, but she doesn’t want to think about that.

When you’re in a place like that, there was nothing provided to women during their cycles, only what they could scrap up, and even so, showing any sort of weakness usually meant you were to be beaten to a pulp later. But after her first few months there’s…nothing. She can’t recall having it again.

So yeah, periods in prison sucked, though Vi doesn’t understand why her cramps feel so bad this time. Maybe because they were often drowned out by the stinging pain of the guards’ sticks against her body, or maybe its because she’s grown a little weaker now that she’s living a cushy life in Kiramman estate.

Either way. This fucking sucks. Vi moans again as a fresh wave of cramps shoot through her. Her head is thumping, her body aches and she wants nothing more than for this to be over. Sometimes she hates being a woman.

Currently Vi is curled up on a cozy bed she found in one of the Kirammean’s smaller guest rooms. Yeah. Guest rooms. Plurals. She supposes this is one time she doesn’t think they’re a waste of space.

She’s trying to both hide from her girlfriend and from her own misery. If she could just fall asleep then maybe she could wake up and feel better, sleep off the rest of the pain. But every time she gets close to sleep, some random symptom (usually more cramps) keeps her up.

She knows she probably shouldn’t be hiding this from Caitlyn, but she can’t help it. Vi hates feeling weak. And right now she’s pretty sure she can’t even stand which is pissing her off to no end.

Taking in a calming breath, something Caitlyn has been having her work on whenever she gets frustrated, she squeezes her eyes shut tightly and tries counting as a way to distract herself.

She’s not sure how much time has passed, nor what time it even is. She’d woken up in the morning feeling terrible and somehow gotten herself out of the room without waking Cait up. The curtains in the guest room are drawn closed so tightly that the only light comes from the crack under the door to the hallway.

A gentle creak and the sound of soft footsteps soon pull Vi from her thoughts and she stiffens, hoping not to be found. She knows those steps.

“Violet? Are you in her darling?” Caitlyn’s gentle voice calls a second later and judging by the tone of her voice, Vi knows there’s no use to keep hiding. Plus her girlfriend’s voice was so soft, so warm, that Vi wishes she could sink into its invisible embrace.

“mmno.” Vi murmurs into the pillow she’s clutching and her body softens slightly when she hears an amused chuckle come from across the room.

“Vi? What are you doing in here?” Caitlyn makes her way over to the bed, squinting her good eye to try and make out Vi’s form curled up on the mattress. “Took me ages to find you.” She added, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Kinda the point.” Vi grumbled before curling more into herself with a slight wince, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by her attentive girlfriend.

“Are you alright, are you sick?” Caitlyn worries, a small crease forming between her brows.

“Mmfine.” Vi answers but Caitlyn doesn’t buy it for a second. “Vi.” She presses gently but in her no nonsense manner and Vi sighs deeply.

“On my fucking period. Don’t ’member it sucking this much.” She complains even though she hates admitting it. Caitlyn gives a sympathetic hum. “Poor love. Why didn’t you tell me, we’ve got painkillers and pretty much anything else you need.” She offers softly and the thought of having such access to these basic things makes Vi blink rapidly before any betraying tears can slip out.

“Don’t need ‘em. Please don’t make a fuss, Cait. Been through worse.” She answers curtly before she can break down. Caitlyn is slightly taken aback by the sharpness of her tone and she takes a breath, softening her response in her mind before her answers.

“I wont fuss, Vi, and I know you have but…well it sounds to me like you need a little TLC. Let me help? Please.” Caitlyn hums gently as she tucks a strand of hair away from Vi’s eyes.

“Okay…I guess it’d be nice to not feel this sucky.” Vi begrudgingly agrees and Caitlyn frowns as she cups Vi’s face. She isn’t overly warm but there’s some sweat around her temples that lets her know she really is miserable. Plus if she’s agreeing to take meds, Caitlyn knows she’s feeling worse off than she wants to let on. Sure periods are the worst, but Vi’s never mentioned having symptoms this bad, but come to think of it, she can’t remember Vi ever mentioning her period even though they’ve been together a few months now.

“Violet?” An inquiry strikes her attention. Vi hums for her to continue. “When was the last time you had your period?” She asks gently, curiously. Vi shrugs as she begins to sit up, groaning as she moves.

“Dunno…years, maybe?” Her response has Caitlyn completely taken aback this time. “That’s—well that’s interesting. I wonder if your body has been in too much stress for so long that it hasn’t had one, and now that you aren’t constantly watching your back or trying to just survive, that it’s hit you again with full force and then some.” She rambles her idea out loud and honestly, that makes sense to Vi.

She just wishes it weren’t so painful and annoying. “Well it better not be like this every month.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, Vi. Is there anything I can do to help?” Caitlyn hums and Vi looks up to meet her concerned, loving gaze.

“Maybe for now…could you just be with me?” Vi almost whispers, her tone bordering shy in a way that tugs at Caitlyn’s heart.

“Of course my love. There’s no where else I’d rather be. Come here, we can lay here for a bit, but soon I do think it best to get some meds in you.” She tries and Vi nods as Caitlyn moves to sit behind her. Vi settles closely into her girlfriend’s loving arms and for a moment, all the pain dissolves as she sinks into her hold. Caitlyn now has one hand slipped under her shirt, resting on her stomach as she traces soothing circles to her skin. Her other hand finds it way to Vi’s soft pink hair, her nails gently scratching her head.

“Thanks, cupcake.” Vi hums contentedly, the two comforting sensations quickly lulling her into a state of bliss. “Always, love.” Caitlyn leans down to press a kiss to her plush pink lips.

It doesn’t take long for Vi to finally fall asleep, feeling cozy and relaxed in her girlfriend’s loving hold. Periods be damned…though maybe it isn’t so bad. As long as Caitlyn is by her side, Vi feels as she can get through anything.

[sophieswundergarten]

Alrighty, I finally had a minute to sit down and smack out some of my thoughts. @itsgoghtime, I am tagging you as a full participant :)

Brought to you by the Moth Realization that I am in charge and can do whatever I want

Okay, so we're leaning more into the mirror-world stuff, with certain things being representations of real life and such.

It opens with Madge flying around the house and landing outside the window where Nathaniel is sitting, just as a little nod to the owl :>

Nathaniel is trying to fit in with his brother's family, but there are so many of them

One day, when he's trying to get some peace and quiet and read the copy of Ivanhoe that he swiped from Nicholas' office, the kids all burst into the room falling over each other and laughing and chattering and making an absurd amount of noise

Nicholas is, of course, right behind them, giggling and trying to keep from falling asleep

Nathaniel fully loses it, dropping the book and yelling at the children.

Nicholas ushers them out, and tries to calm his brother. It doesn't work, and Nathaniel just lets all of his frustrations and pent up resentment come out, shouting at his brother and leaving Nicholas stunned (and hurt)

Nathaniel storms out, going on a walk and trying to calm down after all the things he said. (He hadn't intended to get that upset, but it had all spilled over and gotten a little too close to comfort to a vulnerable heart-to-heart, so he had to leave in order to save face)

After a bit, he feels suitable under control again, and enters the house, only to find it totally empty

The place is ransacked, a complete disaster with books and papers scattered and flapping in the breeze from open windows

Nathaniel searches, but there's no one to be found, so he heads to Nicholas' office

There, he sees a suspiciously spotless room, and the Sister (We're calling her Eurus for simplicity's sake) sitting on top of Nicholas' desk, reading Ivanhoe

(She looks spooky and flashy, somehow more dramatic than Curtain but in a more old-fashioned style like Nicholas. Also purple, to round out the cool-colour sibling trio. Just look at this, because it's amazing)

Nathaniel demands to know what happened to his brother and the others, but she just laughs menacingly

Closing the book, she swings her legs off the desk, smiling at him

"Wouldn't you like to know, Natty?"

Nathaniel is affronted, and tries to cover his confusion with Awkward Curtain Bluffing

Eurus introduces herself, and mocks him further by revealing a model of Nicholas with a flourish, toying with it as they speak

"This is what you wanted, right? To be free of little Nicky and his nuisances? Now you can read your books and make your silly plans in peace."

Nathaniel vehemently states that he'd rather have his brother back to deal with on his own, please and thank you /s

(And his plans are not silly. They are genius)

"Oh, but he's mine now. I can't just give back such a fun toy. Besides, Nicholas will forget all about you soon enough, and then I'll have him and his friends to myself, permanently"

Nathaniel is, obviously, perturbed by this, and demands that she stop whatever game she is playing and return his brother and his associates

She laughs at Nathaniel again, and figurine in her hand turns into a pocket watch, with an abnormal thirteen hours on it

"Well, I do love games. And a game is no fun without some stakes to keep things exciting, so here are the rules: You have thirteen hours to win all of them back, or Nicholas stays with me. No more, no less"

She hands the pocket watch over, which starts ticking as soon as it hits Nathaniel's palm

He looks up to ask her who on earth she thinks she is, but she's gone, and so is the office

Nathaniel is standing outside a massive labyrinth, with no discernible entrance

As he's looking around, who should he find but Dr. Garrison!

Or, not Dr. Garrison, since she's wearing strange clothes and looks at him with confusion

(It doesn't matter, but I think she'd be wearing a typical fantasy poet shirt/tunic, red vest, and probably black pants. Her hair's braided, instead of cropped short or that longer style she kept in a bun)

Nathaniel addresses her and demands to know what's going on, and why she's a part of this ridiculous farce

Not-Garrison responds to her name, but maintains that she's never seen him before. She explains that she's the caretaker of the Labyrinth

Nathaniel sarcastically asks if she'll let him enter, and she shows him the gate

Nathaniel enters the Labyrinth alone and is confronted with a huge, apparently endless hallway that continues on in the same way for as far as he can see

(Part of me wants to include the Atrocious Hallway Painting just because)

Eventually, he stops, seeing that he's wasted a lot of time, and still gotten nowhere

As he's standing there, cursing the insanity of his situation, SQ appears!

(Also in different clothes! I know these aren't important, but I am a highly visual person and I love the artistic style of the movie, so we're going to have a lot of side-notes about how stuff looks)

(SQ is wearing a dark blue jacket [Slightly reminiscent of his dad's colors] and a red scarf, and carrying his sketchbook)

Nathaniel is startled by this, of course, but SQ introduces himself as if they haven't met before

Nathaniel carefully asks him what he's doing there, and SQ tells him he's been drawing some of the interesting creatures that live in the Labyrinth

SQ then inquires as to what Nathaniel is doing, and he exasperatedly explains that he's trying to get to the centre, but the whole thing is nonsensical and the endless hallway must be a trick designed to keep him from winning

SQ asks why he doesn't take a break, but when Nathaniel refuses, he says (somewhat cryptically) that maybe he just needs to look at things from a different perspective

**Clever Metaphor Plot Shenanigans Ensue**

And Nathaniel enters a new part of the Labyrinth

CUT TO WHAT EURUS IS DOING

Nicholas awakens in a spooky castle

He wanders through, looking for other people, but finds no one

Eventually, he comes across some guards, but they do not acknowledge him in any way, so he continues searching

He enters a weird throne room/office thing filled with books

(It looks like a warped version of his office, with lots of shelves and stacks of books all around, empty picture frames, a potted violet in the corner, and a big, impressive throne made of books in the middle)

He finds his copy of Ivanhoe on the ground, and opens it

This, and all the other books, are blank

Eurus appears, sitting on the throne and watching him

Nicholas tries to politely and calmly ask about what's going on, but she ignores his questions

Instead, she asks him about why he's bothered, since he obviously doesn't care about his family

And of course Nicholas is aghast at this and starts panicking over what she's done to the others

She goes on a spiel about how he left Nathaniel and he doesn't really care about his family and how he's only being so nice to Number Two/Rhonda/Milligan/the kids out of guilt

(She's kind of a terrible person in this, in case you hadn't noticed)

And Nicholas is horribly upset and trying to keep a lid on his emotions, when she gets up and walks over to him

"Now, wouldn't you like to be free of that guilt? To not have to worry about all of those strays you took in to make yourself feel like a good person? You're better off alone, you know that, so why not embrace it?"

CUT BACK TO NATHANIEL

Nathaniel comes across two doors, with Jackson and Jillson standing in front of them!

(Jackson is wearing a royal blue doublet/pants, and Jillson is wearing the same but in red. Both have floppy bard hats on)

Together, they communicate that one of them only tells the truth, and one only tells lies

(I've learned this is called a type of logic puzzle called "Knights and Knaves!)

One door leads closer to the castle, and one to "certain doom"

After some typical banter and circular logic, Nathaniel discovers which door to go through

He enters, and falls down into an oubliette

Garrison appears to let him out, and tries to get him to leave the Labyrinth

Nathaniel persuades her to guide him to the castle, and the two set off

(Garrison somewhat reluctantly)

They continue on their way for a bit, before Eurus shows up again

Nathaniel takes the opportunity to complain and ask why on earth she's doing this

She chooses not to answer this, and instead asks Garrison what she thinks she's doing

Garrison responds with cagey assurances that she hasn't forgotten her job in this, and Eurus threatens that she better not

Nathaniel demands to know what she's done with Nicholas, but she tells him that showing him would be cheating, and she isn't about to let the game end early

He asserts his confidence in being able to beat her, at which point she offers to make it more of a challenge

Eurus disappears and a huge machine starts pushing its way through the hall, about to crush Nathaniel and Garrison

Luckily, they escape, and find themselves in an upper part of the Labyrinth

In that area is Kate and Reynie!

(Reynie is wearing a brown tunic with a belt, and Kate is wearing a red tailcoat with feather designs)

The two of them are bickering about the way to the castle, and Nathaniel hesitantly approaches

He's used to the way things work now, and resigns himself to the fact that they are not going to be the people he knows normally

Eventually, he's able to get some even more cryptic advice from them, and he picks a random direction in frustration

Garrison attempts to leave him, but he steals her notebook and makes her agree to help him

Immediately after this, sounds of fighting come from nearby, and Garrison runs off

That's all I've got for now, but I will be adding onto this in a bit! Apparently this is the new thing my brain is refusing to let go, so we'll see what happens

[overchromatic]

bitches love me for my Allister doodles

[vampiremourning]

anyway as soon as i pry myself off this couch im gonna share some screenshots of bg3 protags on my sideblog. just gotta like. reach the desk first.