#all very hypothetical at the moment perhaps but i am thinking a good deal

[femmefaggot]

hmm

[oldbutnotyetwise]

A Life Worth Living

     What is a life worth living?  Perhaps more importantly, when is a life not worth living?  When you have a terminal illness you can find yourself pondering such things.  You have no choice but to sit back and watch as your life slips away.  What you were able to do yesterday, you may not be able to do today.  Although your brain may be tired it still works as well as it ever did and it has these two lists, one for what you can still do, and one for what you can’t do anymore.  As one list continues to grow, the other is dwindling down, dwindling down to almost nothing.  

     You know that old saying about seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, normally it refers to coming out the other end of the tunnel, and leaving whatever problem behind you.  Not in my case, in my case that light is a locomotive speeding down the tracks, through the tunnel and straight towards me.  The light I see is the headlight and its getting very bright, and very close.  I can hear the sound of the train and it is close enough that I can smell it.  I should get off the tracks, jump out of the way but my body isn’t responding, the train is blowing it’s horn and neither can the train stop in time, nor can I avoid what is coming.  All that remains is the time needed to cross the space between the speeding train and me standing dead still in the centre of the tracks.  

     As this disease has progressed I have often pondered the question, when is a life not worth living?  What line does one cross and then decide that life is no longer worth living?  Probably not something most people would consider if they aren’t aware that their time is running out.  

     Is life worth living when��…your legs stop working….when your arms grow too weak to lift yourself up….when you can’t sit up anymore……when you can’t lift your arms over your head anymore to put on a hat……when you can’t roll over in bed…..when you can’t shower yourself or use the toilet by yourself……when you no longer have the strength to lift a cup of tea……when you lose the ability to speak and be understood……when you lose the ability to do your writing because even that last finger you’ve been typing with is no longer listening to what your brain tells it to do.  I would like you to think about that……where would you draw your line?  

     Now let me share something with you, where you think you would draw your line, and where you would actually draw the line are likely two different places.  Where I thought I would draw the line when things were being pondered hypothetically is well…., well I have passed that line and I am still here.  

     I know many others who are travelling the same road that I am, and who are fighting the same monster.  During our online meetings we all look at each other, assessing each others points in our journeys.  I look at some and tell myself that what is enough for some, isn’t enough for me.  Don’t get me wrong I respect their personal decision to hang on, but I don’t believe I would do the same in the same circumstance.  It’s an incredibly personal decision, there is no right or wrong, all I can do is try to get it right, right for myself.   My dear sweet wife is wise enough to acknowledge that this is my decision alone and she will respect whatever I decide.  I do seek and accept her input, but in the end it is my decision alone, and it should be as no one else should have to carry the burden of that decision.

     So today, is my life worth living?  The answer is yes it is.  Why you ask?  My life is worth living because this morning Robin and I spent twenty minutes laying in bed together wrapped in each others arms.  It is the only time when my illness isn’t front and centre, the only time I can forget about being sick and am just a very lucky man and for twenty minutes I am in the best place in the world.  My day with Robin will have many tender moments, many I Love You’s, and a good deal of laughter.  I also get to go out and take our dog for a walk, enjoying the fresh air while sharing the love and companionship of our sweet loyal girl.  A dog who likes to remind me that you don’t need much to be happy, you just need to focus on the good things all around you.  And finally I will have some family or friends visit, sharing stories, memories, laughter and their good company.  Good friends who know that under this mess of a person I have become is still the same person who they have known for years.  So yes, there is still goodness amidst the daily struggle to survive.

     I have met the person who will in all likelihood be easing me out of this world.  She is a pretty young doctor with a kind gentle nature who is good at putting us at ease with everything that is going on.  I call her my “Killer Blonde”.  Imagine having a Doctor come to your home, spend an hour with you, actually listen to what you say because she doesn’t have to rush out the door in five minutes to get to the next patient.  My impression is that instead of being focused on how to fight whatever disease or illness they are faced with, they focus on quality of life for their patient.  There is a quote by Steve Leder here that I think fits.  He suggests that you ask the doctor this question, “Is what you are thinking of doing going to prolong my life or prolong my death?”  I believe this is a very special kind of doctoring that Palliative Care Doctors do, and from what I’ve seen I believe I have a good one.

     For now I am hurrying to get done what I need to get done, to make things easier for after.   Although presently I am a mess getting messier, I would like for all my affairs to be neat and tidy.

     As of next week all the paperwork will be done, after which I can place a phone call when I feel the time is right and within a few days I can make my peaceful exit, my last chapter finally complete.  The fight will be done, my body will be turned into dust and spread in several places, some I know well, and some I have never been to. And although my body will be gone I will live on in those who have known and loved me.  Robin will cry but she will also laugh because that is how we lived our life together.  Elizabeth will put on a brave face, well because she is a Brady.  When she runs into a problem and can’t phone me for advice, I hope that she pauses for a minute and figures out the solution she and I would have come up with together.  I hope that both Robin and Elizabeth will continue to talk to me after I’m gone, and I hope they hear me answer back because they both know me well enough to know what I would say.  I hope they will feel my presence forever in their hearts where I plan to continue living.  I will also live on in the hearts and minds of the incredible group of friends and family who were there for me, who walked beside me on this difficult journey.

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 177 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting the French tamarisk in my garden.

MARTIN: "Look, this is ridiculous, Basira. Can we please just talk?" BASIRA: "No." MARTIN: "Why not?" This perfectly shows that people deal differently with what they've been through. Martin is the talkative one, while Basira is rather be left alone.

JON: [Softly] "Martin, leave it. Trust me. She’s been through a lot more than we have." MARTIN: "I-It’s not a competition! Christ! I just wanted to talk. That’s all." Yeah, there will never be winners when misery is turned into a competition. We can still be considerate of others who have also been suffering. So both are right here in my opinion. Not to be dismissive of Martin saying "Haven't we all had a hard time" and Jon answering "no, we haven't" in MAG 176 . It’s a bit more of an answer with the subtext of "be considerate of Basira. Check where you might have not had that much experience with and don’t dismiss that."

MARTIN: "You might not care but it is good to see you Basira. It has been a long time since we saw a friendly face." BASIRA: "Friendly wasn’t what I was going for." I do understand Basira to be bitter after everything. But it's still super hurtful.

BASIRA: "You caused this, didn’t you? Don’t give me that look, you know what I mean. Did you mess up the world? Yes or no. JON: "… Yes." So Jon still kind of thinks it's his fault? He could have said no, explain that Elias "possessed" him (I mean, he did?)

JON: "I didn’t mean to. Elias was… We were all playing out this big ritual for him. With me as the lynchpin, the gate. BASIRA: "Oh you didn’t mean to! Oh that’s all right then." Well Basira, you also didn't mean to help Elias to cause all this? Is that all right then? Basira went to Elias, she believed his half-truths, she got the idea to go to Norway from him...

BASIRA: "I should’ve just let Daisy take you out at the start." MARTIN: "You don’t mean that." BASIRA: "No? [Exhales] I don’t know. Maybe. If I had… it would have stopped all this, wouldn’t it?" JON: "Perhaps. Perhaps not." Probably not, Elias would have had everyone of the old Archives crew killed and just moved to a new Archivist. The Web would have probably also approved because it wanted the Eyepocalypse... Also huh, Basira faltering there for a moment...

MARTIN: "He can’t do hypotheticals." BASIRA: "And if I killed you now?" MARTIN: "What did I just say?" Martin's priority are a bit... ehhhhh? xD (I know it's comedic relief)

JON: "You couldn’t. And even if you could, it wouldn’t be enough to undo what’s happened to the world." BASIRA: "So… what? You’re the immortal god of this messed up little hellscape now?" JON: "‘God’ might be stretching it. [Deep breath] But I am more powerful now, yes." It is so good to hear Jon confident. 

BASIRA: "I was still in the Institute when everything went to hell outside, so I guess that protected me from the first wave." Oh, a tiny bit of information what it was like when the Eyepocalypse hit. So it rolled out in waves.

JON: "I’m, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, but then I-I got distracted and… then we were within earshot of him, and I couldn’t say anything and… I-I mean, you would have agreed, right?" MARTIN: "That’s not the point, Jon." JON: "I’m sorry." MARTIN: "… It’s okay. I understand." [FABRIC RUSTLES] [BASIRA'S EXHALE MAKES IT CLEAR SHE'S ROLLING HER EYES] BASIRA: "You done?" JON: "Can we not have a moment?" So wholesome and funny XD

BASIRA: "What’s it like? Being with someone who can see the inside of your head?" MARTIN: "Hm? Oh. Oh no, he doesn’t. I told him not to, and so he tries to… look away." BASIRA: "And you trust him to do that." MARTIN: [Certain] "Yes. I do." Thank you, Martin! And in your face, Basira! It's actually not that difficult of a concept. It's like, don't look into another person's screen. Don't go through your partner's phone. Those things would be very easy to do, but just because you could doesn't mean it's a okay thing to do.

MARTIN: "It’s, it… he needs to make a statement." It actually sounds super funny if you put it that way XD

"Hi. How are we doing? You can call me Doctor David. I’ll be here to help you out for the duration of your stay with us. Do you have a name? Hm. Hm. Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with you there. That’s not your name at all." That was a low blow. It reminds me of what my first ever contact with a mental health professional looked like. In the first five minutes so many red flags (which I know can identify, I’m still afraid I encounter them because they do upset me, big surprise).  So when I was on my first listen of TMA and this statement started like this I was like "Oh no, this is going to hurt me on so many levels..."

"We’re a small residential mental health facility here to help people like you come to their senses. And to protect the world from all your self-indulgent nonsense in the meantime." Holy fuck...

"I’m here to help you, to treat you, to make it so you’re less of a… burden to everyone." Holy fucking fuck...

"You’re the biggest victim of… whatever little game you’re playing here." Holy fucking fucking fuck...

"I understand, it’s a distressing time, but there’s really nothing to be gained from… acting out." Right... Acting out... Just get it together, right?

That statement does luckily have section where you very well notice it's dialed up by 10. Calling names, saying "I wonder what it was" to the meds he just gave the patient (I mean, I had doctors not being able answer my question regarding meds. So that could be referencing something like this). Or that absolutely cruel but cheery little laugh. (Not to forget Dr. David literally tearing his face off in the end.)

"You made it all up, didn’t you? What was it? A plea for attention, trying so desperately to make the world notice you? Some childish attempt to feel special? Or were you just looking for an excuse for the fact that you’re a lazy, unlikeable waste of air?" At every doctor's appointment I am stressed to hell they’ll think I'm making it up to get some kind of personal gain... Or that they think, that I shouldn't be here and that there are patients with far more serious problems and I'm taking their spot which they need so desperately more than I do and I should just get it together.  

"Because here’s the interesting thing: you are completely sane and rational. Everyone legitimately does hate you. It’s not your brain making up lies, don’t be stupid. No, you’re just a horribly unpleasant person to be around." Really cramming every possible horrible thing in this statement... I am very lucky to have found a handful of very sweet people and everyone else can fuck right off (it gets complicated when such a person is in a position of power though. A boss at work for example. *inhale* Capitalism!!!)

"No wonder people talk about you behind your back." Yeah thanks, I still hate that. Mostly because it’s lies. If people hate me, I want them to hate me for facts about me. Does that make sense? xD

"That chemical safety blanket whispering to you ‘Oh don’t worry you’re just mad. You don’t need to take responsibility for anything.’" I think it's time to go back to holy fucking fuck!

"You seem fine, though, so I’m sure whatever that silly little imagination of yours concocted, it can’t have been all that bad." Masking is a thing and it’s not fun...

JON: "Satisfied?" BASIRA: "Fuck." Yeah, that sums it up quite well.

BASIRA: [Angry] "I told you not to look in my head!" JON: "I didn’t. And I won’t. But you can’t hunt a monster that you refuse to see." It's a brief one, but I like Basira and Daisy last arc.

Of course Helen wants to help Basira killing someone, even if it's a promise made to that person. And Helen promotes it in a way so Basira cannot properly deal with her own demons.

JON: "You just heard what The Spiral does to people. You can’t trust her." HELEN: "Nonsense! Martin can vouch for me. You and.. what’s-his-name went through Michael’s door, right? And he was rubbish compared to me." Speaking for others so they can't tell their experience because it wouldn’t be that positive. Helen's character really is all about twisting words.

MARTIN: "We were in there for two weeks." HELEN: "Exactly! And you’re just fine! Better than fine! Flourishing!" Oh, also very typical Spiral-shit. Being dismissive of what others went through. That’s literally the same thing as the “it can’t have been all that bad” in the statement. (Or Basira at the beginning to Martin...)

Hm, don't know what I find more dangerous about Helen. Her deal's now a lot more in a way where we can definitely see the antagonistic side, so it's more misunderstandably direct blows. But there is something very sinister to those attacks that made me also laugh. When the damage it's doing is more easily missed.

@a-mag-a-day

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Prompt: Ellie comes out to Tess and Joel. This could be either from Tess or Ellie's perspective and basically be the fallout from her “Boys, girls, whoever looked good” comment at the Jackson spring festival.

That may or may not have been the first time Ellie has ever heard an adult admit to kissing someone of the same sex/gender before, but either way it had to be the first time she heard someone say it so nonchalantly and she is, as the kids say, shook. I imagine she would be happy and relieved to have someone she could talk to about this (in that weird awkward way that teenagers feel when dealing with adults they look up to and are part of their new family unit). All these details are up to you, of course, but it could be a conversation she has with Tess alone (perhaps during Drifter's Dusk), before telling Joel (with Tess there) at a later date.

I LOVE this prompt but I am not so confident writing Ellie that I feel I could do this scene proper justice in a full story.  So I hope you don’t mind that I address this here instead.

“What, you like, kissed boys and stuff?”

“Boys, girls, whoever looked good.”

“What?”

“Say that again?”

I am SO thrilled that that was your take on the scene in Chapter 5 of Dusk because that was exactly my intention.  Ellie’s still young and figuring herself out and yeah – she has definitely never heard an adult speak candidly about this kind of thing before, especially not an adult whom she actually esteems.  I put that in there to give myself an opening for a potential conversation about sexuality between Tess and Ellie.  But it didn’t eventuate.  Dusk is Tess and Joel’s story, ultimately.  And while there’s a fair whack in there about the budding familial relationships, I felt like I would be cheapening something very important to both Ellie and the canon overall to just wedge it in.

But it is in there.

Ellie has a conversation with Tess in Dusk before they all get sick.  Chapter 13:

Joel frowned at her. “How do you know anything about who Tess was living with?”

Ellie’s mouth twitched and she turned away with a shrug. “I don’t know, it just came up.”

I do also wonder if Ellie was even out to herself at this stage.  I’m not sure what the canon says about this, but I don’t know how far along Ellie really was with her sexual identity.  We know about Riley and her feelings for her.  But she’s still like, 15 by this point in Dusk, and I don’t believe she necessarily had all the information to absolutely define herself.  Maybe she did! But I find the idea of her having a conversation with a liberal adult about sexuality as she works it out compelling.

So Tess inadvertently gives Ellie a window to start the conversation while she’s just fucking with Joel with her bi wife energy and then Ellie finds the right opportunity to start talking about it.  And Ellie’s being very hypothetical and casual and thinks she’s not giving herself away ... but she’s talking to Tess, right?  The conversation happened in two parts – when they reset the traps in chapter 11 and when Joel woke up to find them downstairs together in chapter 12:

“Who had the nightmare?”

“Nobody. We were just talking.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, she’s just working some things out.”

Maybe the first conversation went something like this:

Ellie reached up and tugged at a branch.  “How about this one?”

“No, it’s too young.”

“You just said the other one was too old.”

“It was too old.  It’s gotta bend, not break.  And it has to be strong enough to hold up whatever it traps.”

Ellie looked at Tess for a moment.  The woman was bent over, sweeping the forest floor.  She came up with a stick that suited her purpose and straightened up.  She frowned at Ellie.

“What are you standing there for?  Check that tree.”

All the trees in the very general direction Tess had pointed to looked the same to Ellie.  Okay, so not too young, not too old.  A bendy sapling.  Ellie pulled at a few until one looked about right.  She drew it to the ground and then slowly followed its natural urge to stand upright again.

“This one.”

“Okay, good.  Now get over here.  You’ll need your knife.  We’re gonna make a hook.”

Intrigued, Ellie pulled out her switchblade and sat opposite Tess.  Any excuse to learn something new with her little blade was most welcome.  She flipped it in anticipation.  Tess explained that the hook was carved in two pieces, one to go in the ground and another to attach to the noose.  She got Ellie started on the piece for the latter and they whittled away in silence.

“This would’ve been fuckin’ useful months ago,” Ellie muttered.

“Oh yeah, how so?”

“When I was out there on my own.  I was shooting at rabbits.  How’d you learn this stuff?”

“Books,” Tess explained.  “All trial and error.  Let me look at that – that’s good.  It’s got to fit with this, right?  So bring it in a little more there.”

“Here?”

“Perfect.”

Ellie started scraping away at the stick with her blade again, mindful not to nick her thumb.  Tess was quiet, like Joel had been, but there wasn’t that same thick wall around her.  This was just comfortable.  She alternated her gaze between stick and Tess, making sure she didn’t get caught staring.

“Sooo … you used to go to a lot of parties and stuff.”

“I did.  I would’ve been around about your age when I started.”

“What was it like?”

“Loud,” Tess glanced at her, smiling faintly.  “Crowded.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“It was different then.  It was nothing for a hundred people to be jammed together in a tiny space in the dark, lots of flashing lights and thumping music.  Everyone drunk or on drugs, all happy together and jumping around.  It’s like a totally different planet.  I think you would’ve liked it.”

“Just dancing and stuff.”

“Yeah.  Too loud for deep conversations.  You’d have to shout so loud to be heard that you could actually feel the vibration of their voice in your ear.”

“And like, hooking up with people.” 

Ellie focused very hard on her stick and knife.  She thought she might have lost Tess there, but when she chanced to look her way Tess was just studying her progress with her piece of the snare. 

“Sometimes,” Tess agreed.  “Does that sound like a good time to you?”

“I guess?  I don’t know.  Wasn’t that weird with like … strangers?”

“No,” Tess smiled.  “That was what made it fun.  Something sexy about being anonymous, something quite … liberating, I guess.”  Her gaze sharpened on Ellie and she pointed her knife at her.  “But that’s no reason not to be careful.”

“Right, careful.  Of course.”  Ellie nodded once, firmly.  They whittled a little more – or Tess did, Ellie just held on to her knife.  “So that’s why you could kiss, you know, whoever?”

Tess blew on the stick.  “I guess that’s one of the reasons.”

“What’s the other reason?”

“Because I wanted to.”  Tess glanced across at Ellie, smiling just a little. “How do you know what you like until you know what you like?”

… something like that would get the ball rolling.

(There is some inconsistency between what Ellie tells Joel about what she knows about the relationship, and what Tess tells Tommy.  Ellie is a born exaggerator.  You can take Tess’s word on this one. ;) )

And as for when Joel’s in the picture?  I don’t see that happening until later (four years later…? :/ ) and it probably dropping very, very casually and Joel being annoyed but not surprised that Tess has known for literally years.  And Ellie leaves the room and Tess is just innocently sipping her tea:

“When did –“

“Dubois.”

“ … seriously, Tess?”

… ugh now I want to write this.

[reverienne]

Karolina you can't just casually mention Mical and Siri kissed and think nobody would be curious as hell about that!! Tell me all about it pretty please 👀💕 would Siri and Mical work better than Siri and Atton? Siri does like history nerds, right?

(this is a follow up to this ask about a hypothetical ship Siri/Atton)

oh, boy, do they? :D the only sure-fire way to Siri's heart is being a history nerd, actually. Atris ensured that. while Siri is not much of a sitter for history classes, they WILL listen to your history ramblings and freak you out by remembering them verbatim years later. something about the excitement of their friend's nerding over history just really Gets to them, unlike any traditional methods of history teaching. they start to Care because they see you Care. when Siri met Mical, they immediately knew that they're going to be friends. it was unavoidable. Mical was going to be their no. 1 human podcaster.

...and then it spiralled from there...

so it was only half a truth that Mical kissed Siri because after Mical kissed Siri, Siri actually kissed him back. quite enthusiastically, at that. it was only after their brain kicked in did they (meaning Siri because Mical was totally on board) realize that it was all A Very Bad Idea. there's a lot going on in Kotor 2 and it goes double for someone who kept running away from their past up until Peragus. it was unfair to become romantically involved with Mical - both for him AND for Siri who had a lot on their plate at the moment… not to mention quite non-pedagogical since he was one of their Padawans. and then, some time later, Siri discovered the nature of their Force bonds with others and realized that by rejecting Mical, they essentially dodged a bullet…

while Siri cares for Mical a great deal, perhaps a bit differently than they would have for just a friend, they would never risk the possibility of a coerced relationship… and how can they trust that Mical's feelings for them are entirely genuine? it's easy to doubt when you're a war criminal and as such you consider yourself pretty much unlovable. it's easy to believe that this bright-eyed sweet nerd only loves you because you Force talked him into it (perhaps all the more so when your former best friend, a not-so-bright-eyed nerd, looks at you with so much vitriol for daring to breathe in the same room).

I genuinely believe that Siri's problems with Force bonds could be fixed by some solid talking to from Revan, some oversight from Mira (who never got Love Siri brainworms & good for her) and getting therapy. because it's essentially all fault of Siri's yearning to be loved fighting with their pre-conceived notion of being irredeemable & unworthy of love that generates the Love Siri brainworms, and that can be turned off - at least with the help of therapy. and I genuinely want to believe that if freed from a Love Siri filter bubble, Mical would still like Siri somewhat... but would he like them enough to want to romance them? it's up to Mical to decide. I am only the scribe ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

[mental-health-advice]

I need some advice. Back in June, a friend of mine and I had a big falling out. The underlying problem was relationships. My friend thought that I wanted to start a relationship with him and I was hinting at relationship feelings because I was nice to him despite him moving to a new school in August. The problem is that I did have a crush on him and I still do, but he expressed to me in January that he just wanted to be friends. So I set those feelings aside to try to be his friend, but as the months went on, he lost his ability to communicate with me. He was talking to me less and ghosting my texts till late at night. When he would try to talk to me, he would immediately try ask about relationships. He would create hypothetical situations to try to get me to say something I did not understand. Most of the time I did not know he was talking about me because he told me he just wanted to be friends. When I would ask him if I was doing something wrong, he would say I wasn’t doing anything wrong and give me some reason for his distance that had nothing to do with relationships. But it was so confusing. If I was nice to him, he would think I was flirting and wouldn’t want me to flirt. In the argument I wasn’t very nice and it made him upset. If I talked to other guys in front of him, he would get jealous and be rude to the guys near me. He wouldn’t really compliment me, but he would want me to wear pencil skirts. It would make my head spin. In our argument, he told me that I couldn’t deny hinting at relationship feelings but the moment that he told me that he just wanted to be friends, I didn’t talk about relationships with him anymore. I wouldn’t bring them up. He would. Any conversation we had about relationships beyond that was started by him. It’s hard because I miss him and I want to talk to him but we haven’t talked in 19 weeks since our argument. I want to reach out to him, but I feel like he wouldn’t want me to talk to him because he hasn’t reached out to me and if I reached out, I am nervous he is going to think I am trying to flirt with him or trying to get him to come home from college. I am also worried he is going to be mean to me. It makes me sad because I liked talking to him and I liked spending time with him, but will my every move be put under a microscope if I reach out? I haven’t been on social media in months because I am worried that whatever I post he will think I am trying to get his attention. It’s also hard with the situation is that he said everyone thought we were an “item”. This confused me so much because we didn’t hang out in months. I feel like he was talking about me to people so it would make me so confused. I know two people he was friends with he used to try to figure out if I had relationship feelings and I don’t understand why when I told him. How do I deal with this situation? Should I reach out to him? Should I post on social media to show an effort of “moving on”? This is so confusing for me. I have never been in a relationship so it is so hard for me to understand. And even this message doesn’t explain all of what happened.

Hey there,

This sounds like a really confusing and difficult situation to be in. I say this because even though you wanted to be more than just friends with him, he said he said no but then yet he would constantly bring relationships up with you in conversations. Due to not actually being there in the moment, I cannot say exactly what his motives were in always bringing up relationships with you, but by reading what you wrote, it sounds like that maybe he was trying to get you to slip up, perhaps wanting to get you to openly bring up wanting to being in a relationship again with him so that he could shut you down and maybe make you feel worse or guilty? Of course, this is just what I got from reading what you wrote in your Ask and so I am just sharing my perspective on what may have been going on, but either way it doesn’t overall sound like a very good relationship to be in. With saying this though, I know that this is a difficult situation to be in as you generally did like him but then backed off when he just said he wanted to be friends.

In regards to if you should reconnect and reach out to him again, of course this is completely up to you in the end. But it may be helpful to think about each outcome that may come out of doing it and how you may react/ how you could protect yourself if it isn’t the response that you were wanting/ hoping for.

I really hope that has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren

[maxwell-grant]

May I please ask what your preferred dynamic between Holmes & Lupin would be? (From what I can tell, the term 'frenemies' might have been invented for these two - if any two characters in fiction WOULD spend all their time trying to one-up each other it's these two, if only their diverse other commitments, challenges & interests left them the free time to do so: I'm also morally certain a sadly-hypothetical Holmes/Lupin team is one of the few things that could bring down Fantomas for Good).

I think "frenemies" is what ultimately works best for these two specifically, because there's a certain untouchability to icons as big as these two that limits the potential stories you can tell with them (although yes, definitely on board with the two having what it takes to bring down Fantomas, although probably not as cleanly and easily as they might expect).

The original Leblanc stories involving this premise are very much centered around one-upmanship, even embracing a theme of national rivalry of England vs France. They acknowledge Holmes's talents but without the awe, with a somewhat aged Holmes with mundane imperfections easily exploited by the daring young thief, someone deserving of his legend but who doesn't quite live up to it. Obviously Lupin's gotta have the upperhand, not just because it's his author writing it, but because the whole point of Lupin's creation was to be the new hotness, the counterpart to both the stuffy old Great Detectives as well as the aristocratic master burglars, and really, what kind of rising superstar would he be if he couldn't put one over the other guy? If he's gonna live up to his claim of being the greatest criminal ever, he's gotta be able to humble the greatest detective at least a little.

The treatment of Watson (Wilson) is tasteless and it's frankly a bit saddening to see that even back then writers were still shitting on Watson far too much, but on the whole I think Leblanc was a lot fairer to Holmes than he could have been (certainly other writers from this time period who added Holmes to their stories were not as fair), he makes it very clear Holmes is not just another Ganimard out of his depth and is very much as close to an equal Lupin's ever had. I think the description used to cap off their final meeting is very much on point:

"You see, monsieur, whatever we may do, we will never be on the same side. You are on one side of the fence; I am on the other. We can exchange greetings, shake hands, converse a moment, but the fence is always there.

You will remain Herlock Sholmes, detective, and I, Arsène Lupin, gentleman-burglar. And Herlock Sholmes will ever obey, more or less spontaneously, with more or less propriety, his instinct as a detective, which is to pursue the burglar and run him down, if possible.

And Arsène Lupin, in obedience to his burglarious instinct, will always be occupied in avoiding the reach of the detective, and making sport of the detective, if he can do it. And, this time, he can do it" - Arsene Lupin vs Herlock Sholmes

The consistent outcome is that Holmes "wins" the material battle while Lupin gets away with the spiritual or karmic victory. The first story, Holmes has Lupin figured out from a glance, robbing him of his greatest asset, and Lupin even tells Holmes under a guise that he has no greater admirer than himself. Holmes choses not to arrest Lupin, and instead solves the mystery as quickly as Lupin would. But he is also, well, inferior. His "commonplace appearence" dissappoints the guests and detectives at the crime scene, he doesn't resemble their expectations, he is gruff, ungracious, arrogant and all-business, an Englishman all the way, and Lupin one-ups him by returning to him his stolen watch, and Holmes is not a good sport about it.

The whole "Herlock Sholmes" name change, although it was out of legal obligation, almost reads like a cheeky courtesy of Leblanc, like he's giving Holmes enough of a courtesy in sparing him the embarassment of being the loser. And the following adventures stay consistent: Sholmes is smart, as smart as Lupin, and he's a gentleman. But he isn't as smart as he thinks he is, and he isn't as much of a gentleman as Lupin. He resorts to unsporting tactics like intimidating Lupin's lover and involving the police in their conflict, and in the end, he's solved the crime, but "sown the seeds of discord" in a family Lupin was protecting, becoming the villain for a change, a role reversion Lupin openly laughs at. Holmes wins the "loot", he wins the material battle, but Lupin has the last laugh, and despite being a self-proclaimed villain, Lupin gets the moral victory.

It's a quite unflattering view of Holmes and one perhaps not suited for a crossover outside of the specific context of Holmes being the old and stuffy intruder in an Arsene Lupin story. Then again, every great hero needs a lesson in humility every now and then.

There's a particularly interesting variant of this dynamic to be found within China's own takes on Sherlock Holmes and Arsene Lupin.

Sherlock Holmes was quite the breakout hit for Chinese audiences at the time of his release, revered as an alternative to Judge Bao and the court-case novels. It's estimated that from 1903 to 1909, detective fiction constituted over almost 50% percent of all Western translated fiction, and with Holmes followed others like Nick Carter and Charlie Chan, and then Arsene Lupin, and soon their own local versions. The most famous and popular of which was Huo Sang, created by Cheng Xiaoqing, who was one of the main translators for Conan Doyle's stories. Cheng Xiaoqing even wrote his own take on Sherlock Holmes vs Arsene Lupin called "The Diamond Necklace", intending on correcting Leblanc's take, although interestingly, he unintentionally recreates the exact outcome by giving Holmes an unsporting attitude, where he "wins" only because Lupin lets him, and Lupin gets away again with the moral high ground. He would fare off much better in correcting Holmes with his own character, Huo Sang.

Huo Sang has a lot of similarities to Holmes, even with his own Watson counterpart, but was also designed to represent a few more traditional Chinese values. He is a science teacher with no addictions who belittles the wealthy class and fights for the poor, and he is praised for humility, one story even making a point to criticize Holmes for arrogance. He is a very Westernized character, with suits and guns and cigarettes galore, but the books were very dictatic and the author marketed them as "disguised textbooks for science", playing up on a newfound social reverence to scientific methods and self-improvement and national rejuvenation.

The stories deal heavily with corruption of the police force and institutions. In the earlier stories he outright calls police detectives useless rice buckets only good for solving petty thefts and preying on those that can't defend themselves, and while they become less sinister in later stories, Huo Sang's relation with law enforcement is much more frayed than Holmes's own. He uses dirty police tactics of his own and sometimes takes the law into his own hands, thinking the law cannot possibly achieve justice on it's own. His biggest loyalty is to his country and he values his reputation above all else. He values justice more than the law, like Holmes. But like Holmes, he still prefers to work inside the law and within Chinese traditions.

"Bao Lang, you scholar, you're too idealistic. Don't you realize how weak the law is in modern society? Privilege and power, favors and money - the law has all these deadly enemies

"We investigate half to slake our thirst for knowledge, half out of duty to serve and uphold justice. In the realm of justice, we are never constrained by the wooden and unfeeling law. For in this society, which is gradually tending to surrender its core to material things, the spirit of the rule of law cannot be put into general practice, and the weak and ordinary people are aggrieved, more often than not unable to enjoy the protection of the law.

Lu Ping, as you'd expect from a counterpart to Lupin, was much different. In fact, right in his very first story, he was already pitted against Huo Sang and outsmarting him, in a story called "Wooden Puppet Play". The character is inspired by an already existing tradition within Chinese literature of the "chivalrous thief", shapeshifting masters of deception and martial arts, and considered admirable and benevolent opposite to the corrupt government officials they outwit.

His stories are more whimsical, energized, more varied, less dedicated to strict science. He whistles while committing crimes, is identifiable by a red tie and wooden puppets he uses to signal his goons on what outfit he's gonna be wearing, and even cracks asides to the reader. In many aspects Lu Ping is influenced by hard-boiled Western detective stories, and naturally, he has a much more contemptious view of the law than Huo Sang

Well then, was he willing, in his capacity as thief, to represent the sanctity of the law and catch the murderer? Yes, he would be quite happy to round up that murderer. But he wasn't at all willing to boost the reputation of the law. He'd always felt that the law was only something like an amulet that certain smart guys had fabricated to get them out of embarassing situations.

Such an amulet migh be good for scaring away idiots, but it oculdn't threaten the violent, crafty and arrogant evil ones. Not only could it not scare them away, a lot of them hid right behind it to work their evil tricks!

Conflicts between these two are not just rooted in one-upsmanship or the patriotic conflict between the two, but instead in two differing approaches to justice, their influence on fellow Chinese writers to step outside tradition, and the respective ways they address issues in society. Additionally, it's not just a conflict between Great Detective vs Gentleman Villain, but the Holmesian Detective and the Hardboiled Detective. And, naturally, when the two met, a pattern reocurred again.

Writing a Lu Ping tale in his usual manner, Sun Liaohong deprives the detective of the advantage he typically enjoys at the hand of Cheng Xiaoqing or any other follower of Conan Doyle - narration by the detective's coadjutor.

It is Huo Sang who slinks around like a thief, alarming hotel service personnel. He becomes rattled, and even so is vain and arrogant. He is a bit too positivist about searching for clues, and he spends a remarkable amount of time just relaxing and waiting for something to happen.

The figure of "wooden puppets" turns wicked when the author uses the term to refer to Huo Sang, Bao Lang, and the police. Satirizing the genre as a play in which the author woodenly manipulates his character. But Lu Ping as puppet is a genius, moving from one identity to another, whereas Huo Sang is a dumbbell - wooden indeed, bourgeois, ridiculed.

A gentleman's agreement occurs only at the end. Huo Sang has the formal victory. He frees Lu Ping in order to get the paining, but the exhibition is held a day late and it now bears Lu Ping's seal.

In wartime, peace talks, diplomacy and gentlemen's agreements are just smoke screens, the stuff of puppetry. Both Huo Sang and Lu Ping surround themselves with lies to reach their final accomodation. Perhaps they are both puppets - Chinese Justice, the Fiction: Law and Literature in Modern China, by Jeffrey C. Kinkley

Both characters were canned in 1949 when the CCP banned detective fiction, and it was replaced with anti-spy literature about how the party police would expose counterrevolutionary conspiracies. They never got to have a rematch, and to my understanding there were a couple of films made afterwards about them, Huo Sang had a very recent one in 2019, but never another meeting.

I guess the takeaway here time and time again is that, credit to Holmes and all, but:

[strangertheory]

Hello, I wanted to share my thoughts on the Mindflayer being an alter from the perspective from someone with an alter like that. First, I must clarify that while I have a traumagenic system, I do not have the memories of our split, though I have strong hints that they are there. Secondly, we have a somewhat collective memory, and I don't have any memories of our inner world, so I cannot help in that part. All that aside, I want to talk about the mindflayer. 1/6

You might have touched on this before, but I recall there being a discussion on the Mindflayer being kind of a 'shadow of the self'? Essentially being the parts of Will that he disowns so strongly that they manifested in one of his alters. Like, Will is a very kind, somewhat collected person, and thus any especially angry and cruel thoughts (that would naturally occur due to him being traumatized), would manifest in the Mindflayer. 2/6

But the emotions that the mindflayer feels aren't... wrong, exactly? Like, obviously the mindflayer is extremely destructive and harmful, but the feelings themselves aren't what makes it dangerous. What makes the mindflayer wrong was that those feelings of anger and rage were repressed for so long, that when the mindflayer was finally powerful enough to release them, they were strong enough to make it homicidal. 3/6

Although, it's worth mentioning that the mindflayer hasn't really hurt anyone who isn't probably an alter. It seems very self-destructive, and doesn't seem to harm those outside the system. In both my alter and the mindflayer, they're both consumed with rage, unable to feel other emotions, and extremely destructive. However, with this in mind, there is a way for the mindflayer situation to be resolved without it integrating back into Will. 4/6

The first step would be for Will to learn about his trauma memories. Not necessarily unlock them, though that would be ideal. More so he needs to know that they exist. He also needs to know he is a system, obviously. Finally, he needs to understand that the mindflayer's rage come from repression and his trauma. That those feelings of anger are not bad themselves, but that how the mindflayer expresses them are. I believe that the mindflayer, above all else, wants to be heard. 5/6

If the mindflayer knows that it is being listened to, and is not othered and demonified, there is a chance that it can almost be 'purified'? As in, it would still be angry, but that anger would be put into defending Will, not harming the system. To sum this up, the mindflayer is extremely angry and destructive, but if he's listened to and understand, there's a chance he can become the wizard again. 6/6

Hello, anon! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and insight regarding the interpretation that the Mindflayer is an alter in a dissociated system.

I share your interpretation and speculation that the Mindflayer is not "bad" at heart but a very traumatized and upset *shadow self or persecutor alter who is dealing with a lot of suffering and who might be a persecutor alter currently within the series but who can heal and change and ultimately become an ally and a protector to the other alters. This has been the perspective that both myself and other bloggers who are discussing the theory that Stranger Things is about a dissociated system have taken (like @kaypeace21, who has written a very detailed blogpost discussing her thoughts about Stranger Things and the alters and their roles.)

*You might be thinking of this thread that I reblogged a while ago which was written by @hawkinsschoolcounselor and @tsugarubecker and that is discussing the concept of a shadow self in Jungian psychology and its possible relevance to Stranger Things.

"Although, it's worth mentioning that the mindflayer hasn't really hurt anyone who isn't probably an alter. It seems very self-destructive, and doesn't seem to harm those outside the system."

Yes! This is my thought, too. This is part of why I currently believe that many moments in the series haven't happened in the external world but are rather taking place within internal worlds and taking place exclusively within the system.

I think that it makes so much sense for the "deaths" in Stranger Things to not necessarily be a physical death but rather perhaps some other experience or processing of trauma memories within the internal workings of the system that is represented metaphorically like "death" currently in the eyes of the alters.

“I felt… I felt this evil. Like it was looking at me.” / “Well. What do you think the evil wanted?" / “To kill.” / “To kill you?” / “No. Not me. Everyone else.”

I am intrigued by the way that the Mindflayer is represented like The Thing in season 3 and how Steve and Robin discuss that it is made of "melted people." Do you think that it might be possible that the Mindflayer is trying to cope with trauma by forcing alters to integrate? Or perhaps the Mindflayer subconsciously simply associates the system's fragmented nature as being something "monstrous" that has become part of its own current appearance in the system? Perhaps in the same way that El thinks of herself as a "monster" in season 1 but Mike insists that she is not a monster and that she saved him, the Mindflayer perceives of itself as a monster currently and draws inspiration from The Thing.

"If the mindflayer knows that it is being listened to, and is not othered and demonified, there is a chance that it can almost be 'purified'? As in, it would still be angry, but that anger would be put into defending Will, not harming the system. To sum this up, the mindflayer is extremely angry and destructive, but if he's listened to and understand, there's a chance he can become the wizard again."

The idea of the Mindflayer becoming a protective and good "wizard" within the system by the end of the series is so very beautiful to me. I do very much currently share kaypeace21's theory that the Mindflayer was at one point in time known as Will the Wise, or at the very least is connected to Will the Wise in some way. The Mindflayer is currently a persecutor alter but he might not always have been antagonistic, and he probably started out as a protector and can return to being a protector in the future with acceptance and communication and healing.

I speculated in an older blogpost that perhaps the Upside Down can become a much more beautiful place in the future once certain trauma is acknowledged and there is more healing and peace within the system. I think this could tie in with your idea of the Mindflayer being 'purified' or healed? Is the transformation of the Upside Down into a safer and more welcoming place something that you see as hypothetically possible if it's a location within the system?

...

Thank you so much for your messages, anon! What you shared resonates with so many of my current understandings of the story in Stranger Things and my thoughts about the Mindflayer, and your message offers so much additional insight, depth, understanding, and nuanced interpretation of the Mindflayer as an alter that I appreciate and value very much. I hope that you have a wonderful week!

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Choose You (Alec Volturi x Reader)

"Are you alright?" The familiar voice behind you made you wipe your eyes quickly in surprise. "Alec!? Yeah, I'm fine." "What happened?" Alec’s eyes narrowed on you. "He uh...A guy broke up with me." You smiled weakly, trying to fight back the tears. However you weren't able to and so you quickly turned your back to hide the tears. "I'm sorry, it's so stupid of me to be so upset. I'm going to be turned anyway. It wouldn't last forever so..." You trailed off, shrugging your shoulders. 

To your surprise, you felt an arm wrap around you. You looked to your left to see Alec pulling you into his side, resting his head against yours. He seemed to know you needed the hug before you did as more of your tears spilled. "He found someone else. Turns out that was going on for a while." You managed out through sobs. Alec said nothing at first, letting you cry. 

Finally, he broke his silence once you had began to calm down. "He isn't worth your tears." You looked up at Alec, a stray tear running down your face. "He's blind or stupid. Perhaps both to not recognise what he had...but he was always going to lose you. So don't cry for him, he proved he wasn't worthy." He said, looking at you.

As Alec closed your door, Demetri met him in the hallway. "When are you going to tell them?" Demetri asked. "I'm not." Alec responded. "Alec..." Demetri trailed off warily. "You must...they could be your mate." "I won't ever tell them Demetri. They won't ever know." You blinked and the vision was over. 

It took you a moment to get your bearings. That vision was two and a half years ago. You had been changed four months after that day. 

You looked around to see the Cullen's beside you, just as they had always been and the Volturi opposite you. You recalled Demetri's penetrating stare, a look that had begged for your attention. Vaguely, you were able to piece together what he wanted with that look. He had wanted you to look into his mind. He wanted to show you something. Something he couldn't say out loud. 

You had no idea that Demetri had been outside your room whilst talking with Alec. He had been peeking through the ajar door before speaking with Alec once he had left. Shock rushed through you. You had no idea that Alec held such feelings for you. Nor could you understand why he'd never want you to know. 

Your gaze snapped to Alec, eyes wide and clearly alarmed. Alec noticed, staring you down before his gaze flickered to Demetri. Seeing Demetri's expression seemed to confirm his suspicions as he glared at Demetri. There was no doubt Alec was very angry. 

“You never told me.” You said lowly.  “It should have stayed that way.”  “Alec, you didn’t tell me.”  “Stop saying that.” Alec said sharply.  “Why?” you asked, your voice significantly louder.  "You know why I didn't tell you!" Alec suddenly snapped. "No one could know I fell for a human and even when you were changed, it didn't do much for who I am. I'm dangerous for you in every sense of the word." Alec sighed. "It isn't as easy for me to admit it as it is for everyone else. It's only ever been my sister and I. You change that and I don't think I'm prepared for that. I don't think you're prepared for that. I don't even want to think about Jane's feelings on the matter!" There was silence and Alec continued. "So yes, I didn't tell you. I had no intention of telling you and it was very unfair of Demetri to tell you." "You were always there for me." You said quietly. "Even though I... You had feelings for me and watched me get my heart broken by others." "It wasn't easy." Alec grumbled. "Although it made you happy. It's what you wanted." "It's what I told myself I wanted!" You responded sharply. "I wanted to convince myself because I-" you paused before looking physically defeated. "Because I couldn't have you."  Alec turned his head to you. "You...?" Alec trailed off and you nodded. "How could I not? You were always there for me." You responded quietly. 

A moment of silence consumed you both momentarily. "What happens now,?" You asked quietly. "I don't know." Alec responded.  "Can I ask something stupid?" You asked again. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt." Alec responded quietly. "Can I kiss you? No strings attached, no sealed deals, we don't even have to acknowledge it happened in the next fifteen minutes. I just...I've found my bravery now and I don't know if I'll get it again and...you deserve one. After all the crap I've put you through."  After a moment, Alec slowly nodded. "Yes." 

Slowly, you moved towards him and took his hand. The two of you looked down at your intertwined hands. You were much more nervous now and Alec seemed to sense it. He had to have been just as nervous if not more but unlike you, he did an excellent job at hiding it. 

With his free hand, he cradled your face as your eyes met his. Within seconds your lips met his and suddenly everything was complete. Like you had finally found the exit of the maze you had spent so long in and had only found dead ends. His lips were soft and he brought you in closer to him with your hand that was in his own. "Alright, how is it that you've never kissed anyone like that, not hugged anyone other than your sister except for me and somehow you're really good at that." You smiled playfully. Alec smirked. "I've been around for many centuries now-" "oh shut up." You rolled your eyes. "You're so smug!" "You're the one that asked." Alec responded, his eyes gleaming. "You know I was being hypothetical, just take the compliment!" You replied. Alec tugged you forward for another brief kiss. 

"So do you want to pretend that didn't happen?" You asked briefly. Alec looked away for a moment. "No. Although I would appreciate if you kept it to yourself for a while." "For a while?" You repeated with an eyebrow raised. "To give my sister and I time to get accustomed to...you." 

Suddenly it dawned on you. "You mean you...?" Alec slowly nodded. "I just need time. It's all I ask." You nodded in response. "Of course. As long as you need...I literally have forever." The two of you cracked a smile. "Listen, Jane knows me but I get this stuff is still a lot for you both so...don't worry about it. You know where to find me." You paused. "And give me a warning if Jane is pissed off and wants to kick my ass for taking her brothers first kiss!"

[nervousladytraveler]

@veryflowerobservation asked me for a little story with a very specific plot line. While I doubt this is what they had in mind (apologies in advance) this is what came to me over my morning coffee. Also, I’ve been reading Life After Life by Kate Atkinson, and am indebted to her for the world (and tone) of that novel that I borrowed here.

---

She was already seated at a table in a quiet back corner when Ross entered the restaurant. A sandwich sat in front of her--untouched. How long had she been waiting? Ross hadn’t been late. In fact he was rather pleased with his timing.

He’d only just found her note a mere half hour before he was to meet her. He’d almost missed it--a small piece of folded paper deposited on his desk and no one claimed to have seen the messenger.

Dear Mr. Poldark, it read. Please meet me, if you can, noon today. The Drake. Important item to be discussed. Yours, Miss D. Carne. The ink had smeared a bit revealing an impatient or untidy author.

He remembered Miss Carne. Often, if he were to be honest. He smiled at the physical feelings associated with the memory and was on his feet shuffling for his coat before he’d thought it all through. After a late breakfast, he wasn’t hungry yet his curiosity was piqued by such a veiled message. Then again cryptic was the nature of their business, he supposed.

Ross hadn’t wanted the job but was cajoled, battered--railroaded really. But his gallantry in the previous war and in his off-the-record jaunts in between, not to mention his Good Family (“So many Poldarks already in the high ranks, you know”) were all tallied up. If Ross was trying to slip away from duty unnoticed, it seemed he was his own worst enemy. And if he had a choice, he’d have preferred to return to the army, but his ankle still bore shrapnel from ‘17 and apparently he wasn’t needed in that capacity.

“We need trustworthy men inside, Poldark,” some smart Undersecretary and an older but oh so reputable Colonel had huffed. They nodded in agreement with one another, and without waiting for an answer, had begun making plans for Ross in an unmarked office at the end of a serpentine hall in That Building.

The last thing Ross wanted was to be trusted with someone else’s secrets and yet, there he was--working for the War Time Government, which he soon learned was a very different machine than the one they’d elected in times of peace, the one everyone thought they knew. And once he saw the ways the gears really moved, Ross was certain most would prefer not to know much about this one at all.

Miss Carne, the author of the note and the guardian of the untouched sandwich, was one of the girls in the unmarked office. The department that didn’t really exist on paper needed scores of young women to keep it running.

She was different from the other girls. Not just a typist but clever--she was always solving problems, often before they were discovered, and saving the men who didn’t really exist on paper from very real embarrassment.

Ross hadn’t many dealings with her. Well, not until that one night when he got to know her quite well.

It had been a Thursday and there had been cocktails out--what had been the occasion? War had already been declared so it was quite unusual to have held a work do. Why was she even there?

He remembered the dress she wore--blue satin--and the way it fit her. Like a glove. No, more like water in a stream rippling smoothly over immovable stones. It made him feel at ease to look at her and he knew how the night would end.

In the all the secretarial pools across the city, few girls had their clothes tailored--who had time or money? So when they ventured out after work, they sported those subtle signs of economy--gaping necklines or tight stretches across the middle. Their one good dress hadn’t been replaced in so many years but their bodies had changed with the war. Rationing had left them scrawny or cheap gin had left them bloated.

Oh but those girls tried, didn’t they? They carried on the best they could. With their lips so brightly made up they could violate the black out, they were hell bent on keeping up the spirits of the lads. Wartime made for an interesting and furtive nightlife. Of course the nice girls, the ones with breeding and good dress makers weren’t out much at all these days.

But this one, Miss Carne, with her red hair--real, not from a bottle--and a fitted dress the colour of the sea at twilight, was different. Demelza was her name. It sounded like some yet-undiscovered gem. Rare as hell and essential to keep out of enemy hands. She didn’t seem to belong in either world--not the world of well dressed would-be fiancees nor the seedy boîtes, that were filled after hours when the good girls were tucked up in their bunkers.

The hotel Ross had taken Demelza to after they’d left the party was nice enough. Not the Savoy but it had a toilet ensuite and the sheets were clean. She was not Ross’s first affair so he knew how to be discreet when signing the register. He needn’t have bothered--the concierge clearly hadn't cared.

He remembered the sound of that blue dress as he unfastened it down the back. A crisp zip in an otherwise quiet room. That and her breathing and his heart beating in his chest. The sounds of anticipation. Before the dress slipped from her shoulders and his hands clasped her naked body to him.

Today she wore a stiff woolen frock the colour of filing cabinets. It reminded him of a wall of sandbags, protecting a hidden softness beneath. Still the zipper would sound the same.

“Miss Carne,” he smiled and held out his hand to her. He contemplated kissing hers when it was finally offered but sensing some unspoken chill, he refrained. He sat down opposite and gave his serviette a merry snap.

She twisted her lips when she spied the gold band on his left hand.

“You're married?” she began, raising one perfect brow. Was it naturally arched or was that her own artistry?

He might have wanted to scrutinize her face, to map out what was artifice and what was real, but at that moment he didn’t dare look her in the eye.

“Yes, I am,” he said, just a decibel louder than a mumble. “And yes, I was married when we…” He took a gulp from his water glass.

“And yet there was no ring that night,” she mused. She had no problem with eye contact, her blue eyes remained fixed on his face.

“We...uh...we were in the midst of a separation then but the war has made us rethink things…”

We. Us. There wasn’t really an us. Elizabeth was merely feeling scared and lonely, between lovers, and suddenly liking the idea of a strong husband about. But since then her plans to retreat home to Cornwall, first spoken of as a ‘hypothetical perhaps’, had started to come to fruition. She’d been packing a trunk for some days now and was fretting about whether to take just some of her furs, or all of them. She was clearly planning to stay away. Ross’s response was to arrange a driver.

“Well then,” Demelza said and pushed away her plate. “That will complicate things but doesn’t change reality one bit,” she continued crisply.

It was an office voice. With it she would manage the girls under her with confidence and efficiency. No time for emotion, yet it wasn’t sour. Must keep morale up. They had jobs to do and every memo taken, every letter filed, was a fulfillment of their duty.

It was not the soft, easy voice that laughed in his ear as she lay next to him on the pillow in the blacked out room. The dusky voice that had whispered his name as he crawled up her body like a soldier crawling through mud. On a mission. Towards his target.

“It seems, Mr. Poldark, that I’m to have a baby.”

He held his glass aloft and stared at her.

“What?” he spat. “Well, it can’t be...I didn’t…not in...” Of course he couldn’t utter those words in daylight. Not over a sandwich at lunchtime. One needed a stiff drink before dissecting the mechanics of love. Yet somehow he knew it was possible. He thought he’d been careful not to leave seed in the field. Now it hit him he’d in fact laid a land mine.

“Well it doesn’t really matter what you believe you did not do, because apparently whatever you did, was enough,” she responded coolly.

He didn’t dare ask if there were any others who might stand accused with him in the dock. His gut told him she wasn’t that type. And though she hadn’t confirmed it during their night together--nor had he looked for evidence later--he suspected she’d been intact before he took her to bed. Oh, she’d been a quick learner!

He also sensed that she’d rather be sitting across from just about anyone else than talking to him now, so she certainly wasn’t trying to trap him.

“Are...are you sure? I...I need to think,” he said, aware that he sounded like an old Spitfire whose propeller couldn’t quite get going. So much sputtering.

She lit a cigarette, took one long drag, then ground it out carefully in the ashtray. No doubt she’d revisit that same fag again later, at a time when she was less impatient, when she could enjoy it alone.

“Well, you do that then,” she said, and gathered her handbag, ready to take her leave.

“Wait! Where are you going? How can I reach you?” His words came out in a fast and frantic stream. The engine had started--the sputter became a steady buzz filling the room.

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head lightly. Today her hair was held back with tortoise shell combs on either side. Tidy, discreet, and appropriate for an unmarked office. Or any office.

He recalled his hands getting lost in a sea of those curls, fistfuls he’d grasped in passion. An unexpected lifeline, it had seemed at the time, that prevented him from drowning.

He felt himself going under again.

“Now you want to reach me, Mr. Poldark?” she said archly.

“Hey--you left me! You were the one who waltzed out of that hotel room while I was asleep, without so much as a backwards glance,” he growled. He’d been rankled that she continued to call him Mister Poldark, especially when he could still hear her hiss in his ear--Ross--while her body bucked under his.

“I assure you it wasn’t a waltz,” she said. And that was all she said. At least she didn’t claim she’d been trying to save him the embarrassment of a morning after. “I share a flat with another girl in Kingley Street. We don't have a telephone but you can find me at the office--unless I get reassigned in the next few days. There are changes coming, I’ve been told.”

She rose to her feet and towering over him, nodded.

Ross tried to stand up quickly--to plead with her to stay? To follow her out? He couldn't say what his intentions had been but it mattered little. He was too slow. His legs got twisted under the narrow table, his chair scraped awkwardly, and the remaining lunch things began to tip before he caught them with his broad hands. He narrowly avoided one mess, aware that he had quite another still to be cleared up.

And just like that she was gone. Leaving her entire sandwich and almost-intact cigarette behind afterall.

In a strange flash, Ross was surprised she didn't offer to pay for her own lunch. Of course a gentleman should pick up the bill for a lady no matter the circumstances, but there was something so determined and iron about her now, that he couldn’t imagine her allowing anyone to help her.

And yet help her he must. Somehow.

He felt his pockets frantically for a scrap of paper but only found a stub of a pencil.

Kingley Street, he scrawled on the back of a matchbook. He had no house number, nothing else to go.

Could he ask someone to watch the street? He knew some blokes who would do a job like that--a stake out--for the right price. Or was he better off handling this himself, intercepting her at work? Even if she did get moved to a different sector--one that also did not officially exist--he might have channels to find her.

He sat back in his chair and reached for her cigarette. He imagined it smelled like her but he lit it anyway. It helped him to relax for just a moment while he planned his next move.

Ross knew he had a duty to this woman--to their child if one was to be--and while that was an overwhelming and unforeseen realisation, he was taken aback by a different unexpected sensation.

Desire.

He wanted her. Again. Now.

And he had to find her.

[pen-of-roses]

WHG Prompt 4 cont.-Reine

(Truthfully this just the collaboration piece with @thoughts-of-nora!)

Avery’s response had been about what they expected, disbelief and hope, tinged with that earlier fire. And anger. It was deserved after all, they had manipulated her, but still, that was going to make trust more difficult going forward.

Still, a step in the right direction was still a step. Now to take a few more steps by scoping out everyone else in person.

She looked over her shoulder as she slipped into the next compartment. Avoiding the Peacekeepers had been easier than expected, but she would still have to watch the clock for their next rounds. A few compartments later and she hadn’t found any of the tributes alone, but that was expected for the moment. “Is anyone in here?”

“Yeah, I am. Who’re you?” The speaker was standing seemingly alone, dressed well in a brown suit, but the most interesting detail was a little fish sewn into it. Nothing as extravagant as any of the Capitol outfits she’d encountered so far. If anything, the curly reddish hair was more eye catching than the actual clothes.

A tribute then.  

Or a mentor but...no, he seemed too young. And his eyes lacked the haunted expression most of them seemed to carry. Plus, he certainly looked familiar. Still, didn’t hurt to be careful.

“That was faster than I expected. Which District are you? You don’t look like one of the escorts.”

“District Four, I’m Scorpio. What’s your name?” His head tilted slightly, studying her perhaps?

“Reine, guess I’m District Nine. District Four...that was the...jobs? Workers...Careers! Trained for all of this right?” One of the ones meant to win and already favored, most tributes looking for glory and volunteer. Scorpio Ilim’s name had been called, and no scene have been made of volunteering or professing he’d win. So there was a chance.

“Yeah, I think we’re Careers. District Nine, what was it? Grain?”

“Something like that, yeah.” The words blended together a lot of the time for all of these, and how exactly her supposed district was different then say agriculture which was different than livestock...no that didn’t matter. “So, this must be a big deal for you huh? Getting the win and all that, or is it more a survival thing? No offense, but you don’t really look like a cold-hearted killer.”

“I’d prefer to win, as y’know, I don’t really wanna die yet.” Fair enough. “Besides, I have someone at home to get back to.”

That she could work with.

“And I suppose you’re right, I don’t really look like a killer, do I?” He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. Hopefully he could keep that humor through all this. “But I wouldn’t underestimate anyone in the Games. What about you? You got family back home you have to return to?”

Family.

They’re all dead wasn’t the best response, and wasn’t exactly true, but who was left alive, well, she wasn’t really family was she? Nor where the rest of them. “I...no not really.” But that wasn’t true either was it? She had Aleksis after all. “One person I guess, he’s the closest thing I’ve got.” Were they though? Family?  

Pushing the thoughts down she turned back to him and sat down, needing something stable. Should she take the risk? Avery hadn’t been happy with the roundabout way, so going for it might be better. Yet, what if he really was in the Capitol’s pocket as a Career? “Would you take it if there was another way? To live I mean, not die to the Games without having to win?” Without having to become the cold-hearted killer was unsaid.

“Who wouldn’t?” He sat across from her. “Just because I can kill doesn’t mean I want to.”

Good.

“I’d be more concerned if you did want to kill. The option to escape all this should be far more appealing.” Internally she winced, really that was the best she could do? Subtly was not her thing. People were not her thing. “Would you know if anyone else was around, say your escort or mentors?”  

“My escort wandered off and I haven’t seen my mentor yet...I think I saw him, but he just walked straight through.”

“But most likely wouldn't be able to hear our purely hypothetical conversation about other options to winning the Games? And the possibilities of escaping all of this?” Direct it was.

“I don’t know, let me check.” He took a minute to check the compartment door before settling back down. “I don’t see anyone. So, this is like a mini rebellion? Escaping the Games instead of fighting?” His grin settled her nerves ever so slightly. But rebellion...? How often had those gone wrong and ended in more suffering?  

Still...“If you’d like to think of it that way, yes. But that is the general idea yeah. Sadly, I can't give exact details until we're in the Games themselves and no what and who we're dealing with. But we--I think we could get out. Past that would be up to everyone else."

“So, are there going to be more than just the two of us? I think I could talk to my district partner, but they ignored me and sat down in a different compartment when I said hello.” That could prove problematic.

"That is the goal, to get as many people as possible. I can't guarantee anything of course, it'll depend on the individuals, but there's at least myself and my district mate. And you?" She raised an eyebrow with her question, leaning forward slightly.

His grin widened. “I’m in. I’ll help any way I can.”

“Perfect.” And it was. Two more steps in the right direction. But—she checked the clock—have to be quick before any are in the wrong direction. “Peacekeepers will be making the rounds this way soon, so I have to continue moving. But we’ll keep in touch, every little thing could help.”

“Alright,” nodding in understanding, he continued, “I’ll see if I can talk to any other tributes.”

She’s to the door she’d come in through when Aleksis comes back to mind, "Oh, and if another person comes by the same way and they are overly polite, he's with me and is on it and can give better information on the plan.” A flash of yellow catches her attention as the door opens, so she adds, “If they're in a gaudy outfit and seem they're here to cause problems...he's decidedly not with me and you're free to treat him however you like."

In the other compartment, she takes a moment to breath. That had gone...a lot better than expected. If the Careers could be swayed as well, then maybe they had a shot. They were human as well after all, forced to participate in this, why shouldn’t they be allowed to prepare?

The little sewn fish and curls linger in her head. It made him seem a lot younger than he probably was. A cold reminder that there were still kids being forced to participate in this. Maybe a rebellion wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The flash of yellow appeared again, in a very person shape. A very Conor shape that was quickly leaving the compartment back towards their own. But not before a smirk and a wink.

He was following her.

Worse, he knew what they were planning.

That son of the Abysses.

He was going to force their hand to work with him again, wasn’t he?

What’s worse, he was forcing her to chase after him to do it.

“He really does want to die again, doesn’t he?”

.

WHG tag list: @concealeddarkness13 @maple-writes @ratracechronicler @thoughts-of-nora @knmartinshouldbewriting @sparkles-and-hens @madammuffins

Does anyone else want to be tagged in these?

[hollenka99]

The Futility of Talking

Summary: Ghostbur decides Soulbur needs people to talk to.

Warnings: implied suicidal ideation, referenced parental neglect, referenced animal death, nearly drowning (accident unrelated to the first tw)

Masterlist

It takes days of wandering in the woods for Ghostbur to gradually decide he's had enough. It's isolating out here in the open. This isn't helped by the fact Soulbur seems hellbent on avoiding him whenever he is bestowed the privilege of catching a glimpse. Did he do something wrong? If he made Soulbur upset somehow, he'd really love to apologise and work through it.

Friend turns his head at a slight rustle coming from the trees. Ghostbur's face lights up when he follows the sheep's gaze and his eyes land on a calico lazing around on a branch. He commands Friend to stay there. Climbing the tree isn't that difficult so it doesn't take him long to perch on an adjacent branch, hand outstretched to gain the cat's trust. "Hi, I'm Ghostbur. Do you like chin scratches? I know she did." He sits by the steam, pole in hand. He's done for the morning with the trading he set out to the village for. There seems to be more than enough fish to spare here so today is getting more successful by the hour. A squid found itself on the end of his line earlier too. He'll have to work out how to prepare it. He's sure Phil demonstrated once but that was likely years ago. Phil himself has gone off for a short trip and was due to return by this evening. If Wilbur can keep the squid fresh enough, he'll ask him for advice so they can have some tomorrow night. A stray cat has warily made her way towards him. No sudden movements, he remembers. Strays tend to be skittish (this one evidently no exception) and need patience shown to them if you wish to pet one. He slowly offers the cat a chunk of one of the fish. She loves it and it is clear she is requesting more. So he gives in to her incessant mewling. What he hadn't considered during this interaction was how quickly a stray could begin viewing you with affection if you gave them the time of day. Having hung around him while he fished, she inevitably follows him after he packs up to go home. At first, he'd chuckled in a 'ha look at this cat attach itself to me' way. Then she leapt into his little boat and it suddenly grew more serious. Uh, yeah, you might not want to go all the way home with him, little kitty, it'll be a hell of a hike home otherwise. She looks to him expectantly. Ha, okay I know I gave you some fish today but you can't have any more because I need some left to eat myself so it's best if you hop out of- Oh alright you're going to clamber onto my lap, huh? Fine, fine, I'll let you hang out at my house for a little while. Prepare yourself for Tommy though, that kid can be a fairly boisterous at times. Tommy is quicker to greet her than help his brother with the bloody shopping or today's catch. He fusses over her as if she was already their pet. "Oh nice, have we got ourselves a cat then?" "No, they're-" Yes. Yes, they were absolutely going to take in this stray, weren't they? God damn it. "They're going to need a name before we do that." The two of them bounce names off of each other. In the mix are the likes of Pumpkin, Carrot, Rose, Apricot and Amber. Wilbur jokingly suggests 'Basilina' in reference to something which unfortunately leaves Tommy's face blank. Whatever gets suggested, none of the options come across as the right one. "Why do people call orange red?" Tommy asks out of nowhere. "Oh, it's because you're never going to get an animal with fur that's actually red but orange is close enough so you get people saying orange fur is red. Something like that. It's the same way someone might look at a cat and call their fur blue when actually it's more grey with blue tones." "That's dumb." Tommy scoffs. "Hey, apples are red." "...They are, yes." "I want to call her Apple." "I thought you liked Pumpkin a minute ago." "She can be both." "Like a first name-last name kind of deal? Well... I think Appleby might be an actual surname that exists so what do you think about Pumpkin Appleby?" The small boy bursts into giggles. "That's the stupidest name I have ever heard." "Oh really? Well if you're so great at coming up with names on the fly, you do better." He teases. Tommy frowns with concentration as he deliberates on the perfect identity for this ginger cat who has wandered into their lives until he comes up with "Apple Pumpkinson." "Sure." He laughs. "Sure, we'll call her Apple Pumpkinson, I guess. As good a name as any." He crafts the name tag that very afternoon. With the cat clearly not interested in social interaction right now, Ghostbur leaps to the ground. A familiar animal comes into existence. Apple gets a fair amount of attention before complying with his offer of being carried. It's been so long since he had her against his chest. It feels good. "Come on, let's find Soulbur. I'm sure he'll want to meet you." --- There is a voice drifting in the wind from somewhere nearby. Close enough to hear, far enough to not be able to discern more details about its origins. He knows it is most likely Ghostbur trying to chat with him despite all his effort to evade his company. Forgive him for hardly having 'talking through our last interaction' on his hypothetical 'stuff I'd prefer to do today' list. But then again, it could not be. Someone could have somehow breached the boundaries of his private world. Is that possible? He... thinks so. To be fair, he can leave so there must be exploitable fault lines somewhere. Perhaps he should defend himself. Obviously, a threat to his safety can only go so far given that he can't permanently sustain injuries, let alone die again. And fuck knows he never gave much of a shit about physically protecting himself in those last several weeks of life. But look at him waste valuable time deliberating. Shit like that could easily get you killed. Whoever is approaching, they're getting closer. Maybe Ghostbur. Maybe someone who doesn't wish him well. Does he risk trusting the most likely option? Or does he risk coming across as a paranoid weirdo who overthinks the slightest things too often? He's in an open space with no-one else around, in a sectioned off part of the void that no-one visits. Ha, someone could take him out and Ghostbur likely wouldn't find him until tomorrow or whatever. But wants to believe this will have the best outcome as a result of heavily misinterpreting his senses. God, there he goes again, decreasing his chances of properly defending himself from a potential threat in time. Listen, it's probably Ghostbur so don't manifest a weapon, it's probably Ghostbur so don't manifest a weapon, it's probably Ghostbur so don't manifest a weapon. He draws a sword as he whips around. If the pursuer is far away, he has time to switch to something long range like a bow and arrow. Otherwise, he won't have the chance to correct what could be a fatal mistake. "Hi, Soulbur!" The smile drops in shock. "O-Oh." See? Just Ghostbur with Friend tagging along close behind. Honestly, who else would it be? "Ghostbur." Shoulders sag in what could be interpreted as relief or some sort of exhaustion. The sword drops from his loosened grip, vanishing as if it never existed in the first place. He makes no further comment when he notices there's a ginger cat in the ghost's arms. Not just any feline with orange fur either. There is no doubt in his mind who this is. He wants to be flooded with recollections of petting sessions, moments spent unable to leave the spot he was sitting due to a napping lump and times he'd laughed while getting yelled at. Yet no matter how hard he tries, only two associated memories reveal themselves to be prominent. The first revolves around sitting on the large bed, one arm occupied with Fundy while the other drew Tommy closer without causing his brother's hand to slip away from the fur it was emerged in. The other featured the sweltering heat of the Nether and knowing it was possibly the very last place he wished to be at that very moment. "Do you remember her?" "Y-Yeah, I think so." He attempts to crouch but, thanks to still coming down from hyperactive thoughts, he miscalculates his balance and ends up sitting within seconds. Allowed back on the ground, Apple cautiously approaches Soulbur's offered backhand. "Oh." He exhales. "Hi, Aps." His eyes can fuck off. There is no way in hell he's letting himself cry over something that happened years ago. Especially not with Ghostbur present. Instead he focuses on gently kneading the spots behind her ears. "I am so sorry. It's my fault for not monitoring you more closely." "I'm guessing she stayed with Phil after Tommy, Fundy and Alivebur left." "You think we would have left her at home? No, no, no. She's been gone for years. It was back when Fundy was tiny. Tommy was watching him while we made dinner but called us over for something. We could have sworn we covered those mushrooms but Tommy made it sound urgent and we..." Soulbur's gaze redirects itself with a soft sigh. She glances back at him. "Why the hell did you have to go snooping around and nibbling on things you're not supposed to, huh missy?" "I don't know why but Tommy got it into his head it would be cool if we buried her in the Nether. Pretty sure we were too emotionally drained to say anything other than 'fuck it, why not'. There was a warped forest not far from where the nearest portal landed us so we left her under one of the trees. Did you like that? I know it was a bit warmer than you'd expect it to be." 'Tell me more about her', he wants to say. 'I know I'll forget pretty much as soon as you finish but could you spare a story?', he nearly asks. 'Let's practise futility together', he is seconds away from offering. "Thank you." He instead says. "So... are we letting bygones be bygones then?" "Did something happen? I'm trying to think but nothing is coming up." "Uh, yeah." He frowns. "We-" Oh. Of fucking course. Stupid him for stressing about a potential confrontation between them where they'd need to discuss their argument. All this time and Ghostbur didn't even bloody recall any of it. Well done, Soulbur, for wasting your goddamn week. His only consolation was that at least several days meant nothing when compared to near-infinity. "Never mind. It wasn't important anyway." "I'm sorry if I did something bad. I'm really trying to remember." "Sure. Whatever. Doesn't matter so don't worry about it. Either way, I'm sorry too." All across their world, out of their view, every fungal species goes extinct in an instant. Mostly because he refuses to let history to repeat itself, partially because he needs to say fuck you to something. --- Ghostbur is delighted to see Soulbur when he makes a surprise visit. It's completely unexpected but somehow, it makes the interruption to his day all the better. His counterpart encourages him to follow along. Apparently, there is something Soulbur would like to show him. He asks after Apple as they travel. She's doing alright and is back at Soulbur's hideout. Across a hill is an entire valley of flowers, populated by a variety of colourful plants. There were daisies over there, a rainbow's worth of tulips scattered in most directions and oh look, patches of bare grass. Friend will love that. At the centre of the flowery ocean is a dark blue pool of the flower he's been struggling to find up until now. From the edge where they are standing, there is pleasant line of birch trees acting as a border. Looking further, he spots a lake of the other side. "This whole thing is yours." "Everything?" "Yep. Knock yourself out." "But why?" "Because I can?" He shrugs. "You got me Apple and I'm not such a huge twat that I wouldn't at least attempt to return the gesture." "Thank you!" Ghostbur throws his arms open, spontaneously moving towards the other half of Alivebur. The momentum doesn't lead to his body affectionately colliding with Soulbur's. Instead, it causes his hands to impact with the ground, the only things preventing his face from joining them. Glancing up, he catches wide eyes staring back at him and the twitch of an arm that, in another set of circumstances, might not have been 'corrected' before the command to complete the intended action was fulfilled. Then the sight vanishes as Soulbur's expression morphs into something more akin to a fed up frown. "Yeah, don't mention it. No need to make a big fuss. In fact, I think I'm done here. Just um... maybe you could set your base here. I don't think you ever got around to actually building a house, right? You could clear some wood from these trees and put it around about here." With that, he sets off. Like... he always does. Looking out over it once more, there is no doubt that this place really was gorgeous. He's grateful that Soulbur thought to make something like this for him, he truly is. However, he can't fully appreciate it because Soulbur always seemed to end up mad whenever Ghostbur was around. He's even materialised a pearl to make his escape faster. Oh, hang on, what if it's simply him that's the issue? You can't expect somebody to like everyone they know. Perhaps the solution is to provide him with more people to talk to. He'd only had Schlatt (their lifetime hatred had transferred over) and Mexican Dream (while their relationship was better, it was hardly like they were close, as far as Ghostbur could tell). Now that this line of thought has occurred to him, he could also benefit from speaking to expanding his social circle while here. He sighs. But first, he should find Friend. He's sure his loyal companion of a sheep will love the grassy parts of this gift as much as Ghostbur does. --- Tucked in the cliff face, Soulbur was perfectly content with spending time with his cat. He'd half forgotten how it felt to have weight pressing on the side of his face or across his chest, if he's going to be honest. He knows his company is not the most entertaining but he appreciates that Apple seems not to outwardly mind. One day he might actually fish or hunt again for her instead of simply causing her food to appear from thin air. He's sure she'll like that. Either way, all of this is to say that no, Ghostbur, he would rather not get dragged to your field for some activity you haven't even explained clearly. All he'd managed to surmise was that it entailed speaking to someone. Had Schlatt or Mexican Dream discovered a way to come here? He hopes not since this was supposed to his private piece of the void. Although, now he thought about it, he's pretty sure he's unintentionally missed the last couple times he and Mexican Dream had tried to schedule a Spanish lesson. Damn it. Yeah, Mexican Dream likely wasn't super pleased about being left hanging. Next card session, he'd apologise. Had someone they'd known died and found their way here somehow? No, he's sure Ghostbur would have mentioned their name by now if that had been the case. Even when they reach their destination, nothing gains any clarity. "Alright, we're here. What do you want from me?" "I was thinking about how we can make people show up because, well, I already made Apple appear. Anyway, it might be good for you to have more friends here because before me, you were very lonely." "I'm not... lonely." He huffs. "Besides, when it comes to a lot of our 'friends', we didn't part on the best of terms. Lots of uh, animosity, I suppose you could say." "Then you get that anger out. You're very good at that." Yep, that's him, the guy who was always angry. Not like anger or its cousin frustration weren't simply the easiest to settle into. He's played the asshole villain once before, he can keep doing it for the sake of maintaining his reputation. He supposes he should be glad that Ghostbur has never caught any moments where his face hadn't been as dry whenever the ghost has approached his cave. Or when he's recovering from a rough nap. So yeah, Mr Angry, that's who he is. But god is it tiring to maintain a single emotion. Must be great for Ghostbur to get a wider range. "So who do you want first?" Deliberation. Then a stubborn sigh. "Phil. I guess." Within a minute, a replica of Phil is standing before them. He's a pretty decent copy of the real man, although he swears those wings should be darker and he's certain Phil's missing the handful of grey hairs his 40s have provided him. Close enough though. Not to mention this is literally only an illusion. Anything Soulbur might want to say to him doesn't matter because Phil's not actually going to hear it. Neither of them can predict how he'll genuinely react to wherever a potential conversation may lead. He comments as much to Ghostbur who comes across as unfazed by this issue. Well, screw it, might as well get it out of the gate. "Kind of a shitty thing you did. And I know that we apparently asked for it but... you didn't have to actually do it." "Go on, don't hold back." The ghost encourages. "I mean, where the hell do you want me to start? Him killing us, the frequent trips away that turned into fucking off indefinitely, the fact I didn't feel like-?" "Not me, him." A groan. "Fine. You agreed to let Tommy stay so he should have been your responsibility more than mine. In my teens, I should have been more preoccupied with dumb things like wanting to have a bunch of friends or catching a girl's attention. Not deciding whether I needed to leave Tommy home alone so we could still eat because you weren't back from another sodding trip yet. You probably know by now but surprise! Fundy was never just some rapidly aging kid I seemed to always be babysitting. Not that you were ever there long enough to press me on that by that point. You know, I didn't realise being a parent had a time limit. By that logic, I should have told Fundy to get on with being an independent adult as soon as he turned 5. Maybe it's a good thing Tommy pretty much chose to live on his own at 16, god forbid I had to spend another 2 or so years frequently looking out for him. I might not have known what I was doing and honestly, could have done with some tips, but at least you already taught me what not to do. God knows why I bothered to offer you a chance to start over with those letters." "I'm sorry." The fake Phil says. "You don't get to choose if he'd actually apologise." "Isn't that what you want?" "It's what you want." Ghostbur's brow furrow with genuine confusion. "And you don't?" "You want some perfect world where things can be fixed with a single conversation so no, I don't want that. Not realisitic." "What do you want from him then?" He takes a long, scrutinising look at the imitation of his pseudo-father before him. Objectively, he is vaguely aware there were many moments of affection that grew sparser the older he got and the more often Phil would go adventuring with Technoblade. He was... loved and he used to love back. Or that is his best guess. He was becoming very close friends with Techno back when they were in their teens too. There's a reason he was never able to fully trust the piglin hybrid during their time in Pogtopia. It was Phil's fault for entrusting him with responsibilities always a little bit too early. But it was Techno's fault for not bringing it up despite the amount of times they left without the other two when Wilbur made it as blatantly clear as he could that he wasn't happy about it. He didn't always shut the door more firmly than he should whenever they bid farewell. And he is sure that, once upon a time, being surrounded by one of Phil's wings was among his favourite places to be. Not anymore. "Guess." He answers. --- It's a week after he talks to 'Phil' that Ghostbur suggests they try the exercise once more. Soulbur begrudgingly accepts. "Oh, I know. How about Tommy? He and I used to hang out. We even went on holiday together." "A holiday?" "Mhmm," Ghostbur nods enthusiastically. "Dream took us on a boat and I did my best not to touch the water even though I like teasing Phil by sticking my hand out when it rains." Faintly, from an intangible distance he can't perceive the length of, alarm bells toll. Dream wasn't the type of guy to randomly send a teenager and his brother's ghost on a holiday abroad. He wouldn't be surprised if there were ulterior motives at play. After all, Dream had practically enabled Wilbur with the TNT stock increase so... he doesn't know what to make of it. One way or another, something didn't add up. However, he is lacking in context and if it's as dubious as he suspects, Soulbur doubts Ghostbur can recall the necessary background intel to complete the full picture. Ghostbur seems like he has more to say on the matter in his ramble but Soulbur jumps in with "Doesn't rain burn you though?" "Well yes but when it's tiny like drizzle, it's all tingly instead. It only really hurts when I touch a lot of it." "Like for example... the ocean." "Yes." He giggles. "But I wasn't going to actually do it. It would have been fun if I could. Phil always makes this face when I try to touch rain. It's like when Alivebur used to sneak a few more berries in his mouth than he was supposed to or when he got his clothes wet by jumping into rivers." "Right. Anyway, let's get Tommy over with." 'Tommy' is, again, a good copy. His hair has grown out which Soulbur suspects may have been something that occurred in his absence. He's not used to this length since Tommy always kept his hair in a flux of 'short and kind of tidy' to 'too annoying and shit'. You know what? This length lowkey suits him. If Soulbur, or more to the point Wilbur, were still alive, he'd say so to the real Tommy's face. But instead, he supposes he has to vent for the sake of the activity. It takes a minute but he is able to think of something. "You shouldn't have acted as my right hand in exile. You did decently during the war and did your part to help with the election. But when it came to exile? You kept opposing the TNT idea but didn't really offer any potential alternative solutions to deal with L'Manburg instead. At one point I think you even came close to unintentionally helping Schlatt with his plans for the sake of a distraction. And shit, Tubbo might have ended up being a bit of a yes man but at least I knew not to fully trust his motives and actions. You were supposed to stick by my side or tell me to get fucked. You did both and neither. You might not be an adult yet but you're certainly not a little boy anymore. If you are going to take a stand, you can't just let yourself be a dissenting bystander. I might have even listened to you if you came up with a viable enough plan to rid our country of tyranny without destroying it for good. But well... too late for that now." Tommy appears dejected. Immediately, Soulbur really wishes his ghostly twin would stop giving these clones feelings when the point of all this was to do it without the actual person they represented knowing what his thoughts were. They would have to sort it out. --- The sun is warm in his field and it's nearly enough to negate the slight universal chill he's slowly begun growing accustomed to. With Soulbur laying near him, Friend grazing somewhere off in the distance and Apple enjoying the sun in the gap between the humans, it's a rare moment but lovely all the same. "Do you ever think about how it was supposed to be over, how we were supposed to be done with everything?" Soulbur speaks up. "No? What do you mean?" "I mean the button. We kept telling Tommy we wouldn't die in the explosion, that the people who'd die were those unfortunate enough to be in L'Man- Manberg when we set it aflame. Never us, no no no. Us, in our little button room? Nah, why would you ever think that? People lied to us, we lied to them back. Nobody's fucking trustworthy. Eret dumped potatoes on us like 'Oh we're the best of friends now and everything's all great between us'. Fuck off, if you think I'd let my guard down around you, especially you, you have another thing coming. Probably wanted to hurt Tommy and I again for the hell of it. And maybe we weren't that far gone by October, maybe we were being honest about not intending to die with our nation. But on the day, we fucked up. I don't know what it was, I think... I think it was the combination of Tubbo being targeted for supposedly having loyalty towards Pogtopia, Schlatt being a prick as usual and everything seeming to happen at once. Whatever happened, we freaked out and couldn't focus enough to realise we needed to take maybe like... five steps forward to find where the entrance to the room was hidden. So we lost our great chance and had to wait for the next one. All that time telling ourselves we just had to get to the 16th and then we'd get what we wanted, all of it for nothing. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky that it was only an extra month to get worse. When we set a date for war, it gave us a target to aim for. So yeah, we got worse and threw ourself into making sure that this time we would not fail under any circumstance. Who cares about basic things like staying safe and healthy when we knew the when and where of our death? We were like... we were like those people that are terminally ill and their body just loses its appetite the sicker they get. Either way, we got what we wanted and then realised this wasn't what we expected it to be. Screw us for hoping to catch a fucking break, right?" Ghostbur begins questioning why exactly he was going on a rant like this but Soulbur barrels on regardless. "Whenever people speculate about what the afterlife is like, a lot of them imagine it as this great time where you reunite with those you knew who went before you. You all sit in a circle and hold hands and enjoy each other's company, forever. You do that shit forever. Seeing people you cared about sounds nice in theory but in practice? There's a reason you don't stay in the presence of even your favourite person ever 24/7. It's tiring. Fuck that, you know? I don't know whether humans were made to be social for eternity. It's like 'Oh hey Grandma, fancy seeing you here for the trillionth time since I died'. Not for me, thanks. Not for a bunch of people either, I'm sure of it." "You said it was January when you left?" "Yes." "And you're sure about that?" "Yes." "Well that's only two months. And trust me, I might not know how long I've been here but I know it's been far longer than two months. Which means, Ghostbur, which means that time moves faster here. I don't know how much faster, there's no way of working it out, but one thing is for sure, we're going to get more days here than down there. Because... because here's the thing, Ghostbur, here's the thing, it doesn't matter how hard you try to keep count of the days in little notebooks or whatever, because it will get to a point where you don't care if the index number- that's what the little number in the top right corner is called, right? Nobody cares if the number is 8 or 9 by the time you've been here long enough to be counting that high. Who cares if you've been here for 2 times 10 to the power of 6 or- or 5 times 10 to the power of 300 days? One way or another, you'll have been dead for a long, long time. By that point, who gives a shit. The main problem is that it seems the dead are stuck with a longer infinity than the living." "Sometimes- Okay, I'm only admitting this out loud because technically we're the same person and I mean, who are you going to tell, other than Schlatt or Mexican Dream- Friend might also count, I don't know... Same difference. But fuck it, you're not going to tell anyone who actively gives a shit about trying to play the bigger person with the intent of stopping me." He catches his breath. "Sometimes, Ghostbur, sometimes I wonder if I were to collapse this pretend world and leave myself with no protection from the Void, whether that would cause me to lose consciousness. Wouldn't that be interesting? Never having to regain consciousness, just... lights out and then a nap that lasts long enough to see the universe end. Death as it should be." He glances over at Soulbur silently. Speechlessly even because what on earth is he supposed to say after all that? His other half is thoughtfully playing with a poppy still connected to the ground. He is seemingly none the wiser to Ghostbur's lost gaze. "I guess these flowers aren't too bad. Shame I'll get incredibly bored of them eventually." "...I think you need some blue. Let me find you some from my collection." "Believe me, I don't think blue will help in the slightest." "Try it anyway. It helps me." "Well, infinite time to gather infinite resources... I doubt you wasting some on me will make a difference in the long run." He stumbles as he rises. Blue, just focus on making blue. He's laughter and encouragement and an open pair of comforting arms when necessary. He was not made to contemplate the universe or its mysteries. So he'll deliver blue to those who need it. Maybe he'll spare some blue for himself. But Soulbur first, definitely. --- The next week, amongst the suggestions he throws at Soulbur regarding who he should speak to this time, Niki's name gets mentioned. The more volatile half of Alivebur outright refuses to even consider it. His reasoning is that he has nothing to say to her, regardless of how much the real Niki likely has to say to him. Ghostbur doesn't get much of a chance to argue they could speak to Niki without having to criticize her. She appears in their void world either way when Soulbur is gone because who says he can't hang out with his friend? He provides all the ingredients. He lets her be in charge of grounding the wheat into flour since she is much better at it than him. Instead, he is in charge of slicing the apples into segments as equally as he can. The slices that won't go in the cake or on it as part of the decoration will become snacks for Friend. They work well as a team, chatting and laughing together as they prepare it all for baking. "Niki, Alivebur didn't do this often, did he?" "No but it's okay, he was a very busy man." "We should do this regularly. We can do that now." "Sure. It'll be fun." The end product is as delicious as it smells. They sample the result of their hard work, leaving a minimum of half to share with a certain someone. The cliff face never reeked of nicotine in life as far as he's aware. Then again, he has no memories of Alivebur ever considering touching a cigarette while living here. He doesn't expect to recall something like that in the first place but... he believes his point still stands. Apple Pumpkinson is probably lingering in the vicinity since he can't see her right now. He does, however, spot a figure with their knees tucked towards their chest and a glowing burning dot. There is a mix of sniffling and coughing coming from them as well. Part of Ghostbur plans to enquire whether that's simply the result of Soulbur's habit or an indication he isn't feeling great at the moment. Despite not truly wanting to, he decides to leave it. He doubts Soulbur would appreciate the intrusion. So he sticks to his original reason for coming here. "Niki and I baked a cake so here's your share of it. It's got a bunch of apples inside and on top. Don't tell anyone," He chuckles. "But I've already had a taste test. It's very, very good but I might be a little biased." Perhaps when he checks in tomorrow, the cake will have been undisturbed. More for him, he jokes internally. He does hope Soulbur will enjoy the gift though. So when he swings by again the next day to leave a new set of flowers (a bunch of oxeye daisies that were as lovely as they were cheery) and discovers there is no evidence of a baked product ever being delivered, Ghostbur is optimistically hopeful. It was a rather large portion which is why he expects Soulbur not have eaten it in one go. He comes to the conclusion it might be good if he does this more often. --- Having suggested people like Niki (nope, no thanks, he doesn't know if he could manage to look any version of her in the eye) and Eret (no chance in hell, for arguably the inverse reasons), Ghostbur has once again dragged him back to the flower field for one of the talks. It's Fundy this time, though he was incredibly reluctant to accept. There's no trace of war or any sort of strife for that matter on his son. He's in a t-shirt and an open black hoodie, slightly younger than he last recalls so perhaps in his late teens. It's dawningly apparent that this is the boy who was yet to sneak off to join his uncle on an adventure to find somewhere cool, far away. It won't do. Soulbur has things he wants to say but not to this kid who is probably only 17 or 18. The war veteran turned spy wearing a dark jacket with their familiar coloured stripes on the side of the partition appears as his replacement. That's better. "You went behind my back. You not only ran against me in the election, with one of my closest friends might I add, but then attempted to win by committing voter fraud. Not to mention you went on to basically side with Schlatt. I don't care if it was supposed to be a ruse. You still did things that benefitted his cause. I'm not going to go into the fucking flag because I don't feel like being here all day. I know full well showing you basic human decency doesn't mean you're in my debt. But the least you could have done was not turn your back on me the minute you decided you didn't need me anymore. Being in your early 20s doesn't mean you suddenly begin to know what the hell you're doing. I should know!" Ghostbur steps between them, arms thrown out wide. "Fundy is a good son. He's never done anything wrong." "Don't try to debate when you don't have all the evidence." "Well, you shouldn't either then." "Tell me, how great was your relationship as Ghostbur? Because I can't imagine he'd welcome the remnants of his dear old dad back with open arms after all the shit that had just gone down while we were exiled." "I visited him in his home. Phil was there sometimes too." He scoffs at the breezy nonchalance. "Bet that went well." He takes another look at his little boy, not quite as little as he once was, and that's all it takes for him to stop acting pissed off. Four months was a short amount of time for so much to happen to Wilbur. But, likewise, practically just as much happened to Fundy and the others once united under the flag of L'Manburg. Doesn't he know it. And that's exactly why he is positive he cannot stay here a minute longer. "You undoubtedly know where to find me." "Soulbur, wait! You don't have to go. We can-" "I'm tired, Ghostbur. I really don't want to keep doing this. Mostly because it's always been pointless but also, how many times do you want me to get purposefully upset at people we used to care about?" Dejectedly, Ghostbur's gaze diverts to the side as he mumbles out "Cliff or trees?" "Cliff, probably. Apple is there." There is a nod in response and that's all the cue he needs to get the hell out of here. "Do you want to stay up tonight?" He asks his cat. "I can feel it will most likely be a festival kind of thing if I close my eyes. A-And I really can't do that if... Fundy's so close to the front of my mind right now." Speaking of festivals, he thinks he knows who he should have a one sided chat with. But this time, he won't be the one doing the talking. --- He wasn't actually seeking out Soulbur this time. It's an accident that he catches the scene but he's glad to see Tubbo in front of him. It's great that Soulbur was in fact willing to give it a go after all. He felt like it might have slightly been an act, the whole reluctance and instances of hesitation to fully commit. He'll leave them be. If Soulbur wants to do this on his own, Ghostbur is hardly going to breach that privacy. Tubbo takes a breath and it goes downhill from there. "You got me killed. Twice. Your incompetence and neglect to see what was going on got us all killed. You should have realised sooner instead of helping to lead us down to a massacre. In fact, your leadership wasn't what won us the war. It was Tommy sacrificing one of his lives and then both his discs that won us our freedom. And when I trusted you to keep me safe while I risked so much to help you out, you let me die. You lied to me and told me Technoblade was on your side. Look how well that turned out. I was scared out of my mind. I thought you'd at least try to think of a way to help me. But no, you stayed on that roof. Even tried to use the chaos following my execution as a distraction while you ran to the fucking button. You know, it's a shame you destroyed L'Manburg because, even at only 16, I would have made a much bet-." Tubbo cuts off suddenly at the sound of sobbing. He'd tried his best to be silent, he really had. He's not sure why he didn't leave like he'd intended to once Tubbo began talking. Oh and there's Soulbur with that scowl on his face again. "The hell are you doing here, Ghostbur?" "Why are you making him say that? Tubbo wouldn't say that to us." Weary exasperation. "None of them are real, they're just manifestations for the sake of having something to focus on and visualise. What, you'd prefer I switch him to a more suitable individual?" Tubbo morphs into a tall man with unkempt brown hair, a trenchcoat and fingerless gloves. His face bears a matching scowl to Soulbur's one from a moment ago while displaying signs of neglecting basic care... the same sort that, again, Soulbur exhibited. Point made, the third Wilbur dissolves into the air. "You really think that Self Loathing Central is going to thrive positively in a mental capacity by saying things aloud? I'm not the one who needs to sort through his feelings when it comes to harsh truths, Ghostbur. The problem is you seem to be literally incapable of that, given your whole side of the amnesia. Can't help it, I know. But you don't know how- god, if only you knew how goddamn frustrating it is." "I'm sorry. I'm really trying." "Yeah. Me too." Soulbur spits back. The frown remains despite his sharp, conceding exhale. "I just struggle to imagine how we make up the same person sometimes." --- Ghostbur's typically calm, even sunny, demeanour changes to a frown. Okay... he questions whether he's gone too far, given that his counterpart's mood has now tipped into frustrated. Well, either way, he pissed people off in life and he's still continuing to piss them off (although now it's technically himself, in this scenario) in death. This isn't really anything new. Shit, he's even managed to push Ghostbur to a fleeting bout of frustrated anger once before. But this isn't fury, not yet. "Okay, why are you so mean? You are always angry or sad or- or bitter. It's like... what's the phrase? It's like talking to a brick wall. I don't like it." "You don't like a lot about me. Your point?" "My point is be more nice. I just want to get along." "So you can betray me again?" "I never betrayed you! I know Alivebur did a lot of bad th-" "Forget Alivebur." Soulbur spits. Okay, he supposes this is getting quite real now. Fuck knows where this will end up but who cares right now. "Never mind what wrong we did while alive. Right now this is about what you did. You specifically." "But we are the same person." "We are two halves of the same person, yes. Unequal halves at that. Which is your fault." "I never did anything." "Oh my god. Are you serious?!" He starts pacing slightly. Fingers make their way through his hair, stopping halfway, then join their respective arms in being thrown to the sky. He almost seems to be addressing the sun with his next words. "Do you hear that? Do you- do you bloody hear that? He never did anything wrong. Sweet, innocent, harmless Ghostbur is absolutely incapable of wrongdoing." Now whipping back to the ghost. "Why do you want to fuse? Be honest." "Well um, people need Alivebur back. I can't be him. So we need to-" "Go back down there? Yeah, sure, we planned to end up here after destroying L'Manburg but we'll just start living again as if the last few months of our life didn't happen. As if we didn't... Fuck." "But we can live again. Just different." "And that's the problem, isn't it, you being the one willing to live? You know what I want from a hypothetical fusion? To be whole. I want to have all our fucking memories in one spot, to remember what it was like to be goddamn happy. But no, can't risk that, especially now I'm sure you'll do the one thing I don't want you to." He can tell Ghostbur is attempting to formulate a counterpoint to this outburst. He doesn't allow him to. Besides, the ghost had been pushing him to vent at various 'friends' and, in Soulbur's opinion, there was one person who could do with targeting more than the others. Funnily enough, they were already standing right in front of him. "Do you know what it's like to be betrayed by someone you considered a friend?" No answer. "No? Well, I do. I know exactly what that's like because we thought Eret was loyal to L'Manburg's cause. If there were any red flags to be caught, we missed them all. People died. Kids died. In that room, I think we might have been one of the last to go, or at least lose consciousness. Being left to bleed out is bad enough. It's worse when you have enough time to realise how young the others were. We were left there with a couple of 16 years old, one of whom was our little brother we practically raised by ourself, and then our very own son. I'm sure you remember what it was like to watch Tommy and Fundy grow up though, don't you?" "Yeah." It leaves Ghostbur's mouth barely above the threshold for human hearing. "I don't, not really. But I do know we loved them. And I also remember seeing them stiller than we should have ever seen them. I'm not sure how exactly Tubbo died but there was certainly a ridiculous amount of blood around him. Fundy, I'm not too sure about either but Tommy, god Tommy. He was trying to escape Dream and fell, hit his head hard enough to die probably instantly. He was just- He was just lying there for a little while before his body registered it still had more lives and began the respawning process. And then the duel... that arrow hit him right in the chest and he simply stumbled back then dropped. More blood than I want to recall. You know what makes it worse? Those two deaths happened on the exact same day." "Do you know what it's like to watch all your friends leave you?" Again, no verbal response. This time though, there is a frown as Ghostbur recognises his twin was here to shame him. "No? Of course not. Listen, I admit that maybe I helped by refusing to fully trust anyone again but all they did was prove my point. You can't fault me for looking out for number one." "That sounds selfish." "It is not selfish to practise self preservation or wanting to make sure you don't repeat mistakes that had fatal consequences." "You're the reason everyone hated Alivebur." "We are both Wilbur. We are both responsible for everything he did or was. The only difference is that I am the one who remembers Pogtopia and you don't." "Why are you acting like it's my fault? I didn't do anything." "Because it is your fault, Ghostbur! You are literally the reason we split, the reason I've been stuck in this hellhole of a limbo with no decent memories to balance out the bad or even traumatic ones. You took that from me. You and only you. I thought I could rid the world of L'Manburg and everything that made it doomed to inevitably fail, myself included, then hopefully find some peace for the first time in who knows how long. But no. No, you had to decide you weren't as done with it all as I was. You took everything I wanted. You... you..." "You're being unfair. Who's to say you weren't the one who caused our split?" "Because I remember it. Unlike you, it seems." Soulbur's fury falters for a moment as this truth becomes apparent. This pause doesn't last long. "Oh, of course you wouldn't remember it. Why should I expect you to remember the most important moment of our post-death?! You are hopeless." "I'm not." Ghostbur's face is half covered in cornflower blue rivers flowing from his eyes. "You are. I would give anything to be whole again without needing to fuse with you. If I knew how to take those good memories back and leave you with as little as you left me, I think I would." "No, you're just lying to make me feel bad. Stop it. Just stop it." "Fucking make me." Ghostbur vigorously wipes his tears away, inevitably smearing the rich colour across his desaturated face. He's snivelling too as he pretends he's not in breaking down into whimpers. In another situation, if he saw Ghostbur like this, he would show sympathy. But at this very moment, with his wrath no longer kept at bay? He's almost inclined to call the sight before him pathetic. "You are a 24 year old man, stop acting like you're 4 and the world's ending because you scraped your knee." "Why are you acting like this?" "Because I want you to take responsibility for the misery you've forced me to endure! I've tried to keep a level head, god knows I have tried not to take it out on you too much, but I don't know how much longer I can keep this act up. You know, I keep seeing the people I cared about dead. If I think about L'Manburg for a few seconds too long, I end up watching the thing that was supposed to symbolise safety from back when I still had faith in it get destroyed over and over again. I can't stop thinking about how everyone turned their back on me, only to end up doing it to myself. For- for you to end up doing that to me." God damn it, why the hell can't his voice stay steady right now? "Do you understand how horrible that was? So grow up and show that you're sorry. Just saying it won't do. You have to prove it." Through the tears that had sprung from his own eyes, he can see the ghost has screwed his eyes shut tight with blocked ears. Oh, this was ridiculous. Soulbur grabs his counterpart's hands in an effort to pry them from the side of his head. "Stop acting like you can simply run from everything." There's more fuel to keep this fight going at his disposal but he doesn't get a chance to continue. Ghostbur tugs forcefully to free his hands. Unfortunately for both of them, it's too late. What's done is done. --- Wilbur wasn't used to having such a gathering. The only people who he could expect to be found in the house somewhere were Tommy and Phil. Technoblade too, as of his arrival in their lives a few months ago. He was technically in his early teens but Wilbur guesses piglin hybrids matured sooner than humans since he appeared to be approximately at the beginning of adulthood. Either way, the three people he lived under the same roof as weren't the only ones here today. He tended to hang out with his friends from the village instead of the other way around. It was far more convenient for him to make the short journey to them than all of them individually visiting him together. Yet here they all were, ready to celebrate today with him. And no, Tommy, he does not have a crush on any of the girls in the group. You even try to insinuate that in front of everyone today and you will find crumbs in the most annoying spots on your bed. Presents are exchanged while Phil dithers in the kitchen, awaiting his cue. He wouldn't say he had a bad go of it this year. He was definitely not expecting the newly forged diamond sword. These arrows are great as well. And oh, was that the cake Phil was bringing out? His arm comes too close to the cake as he goes to blow out the candles, eliciting a "Wil!" from his father. What the hell is he- oh shit. Fuck, his hoodie sleeve is on fire. Not good, not good at all. Shit, shit, shit. Stop staring at it. Do something, idiot. Uh... uh water. Kitchen. Dump it in the sink. Better dump it on the floor and stamp on that soggy piece of shit too for good measure. Remembering himself, he returns his attention to the others. "Um, I think the problem's solved." "You will be the death of me, you know that?" Phil takes a long exhale. There's also a laugh that sounds like someone coming down from stress. Which, he supposes, it is. "Just put it to the side somewhere and come have the cake. Preferably without setting yourself alight again." "Got it." Luckily for everyone, the rest of the cake section of the day goes off without a hitch. Wilbur animatedly chatters with his mates as they eat. He's not entirely sure how they end up at the topic of swimming. "Well, there's the river nearby. We should go there after this. Screw the 60 minute rule." Tommy's head perks up. "Can I come too?" "Obviously." "Guys..." Phil sighs. This weariness is met with a grin. "You only turn 16 once, Phil." Hand gripping his 8 year old brother's one, they sprint towards the water. Wilbur steps back a few paces once they get there so he can do a run up before entering the water in a cannonball position. Hair dripping, he encourages Tommy to do the same. His friends leap in at their own pace. One even pushes a mutual friend in, which only leads to a shriek that gets cut off abruptly then a string of words the youngest member of the party probably shouldn't be hearing. "Oi, Wil!" He turns to one of his friends, only to receive a faceful of water. "Happy birthday." "Oh, you fucker. Hey everyone, gang up on Mark." A war ensues that ends up with all of them getting their faces wet, some even have their heads dunked underwater. By the end of the day, there aren't enough towels to meet the demand. Either way, Wilbur's beaming, even as he deals with his soggy fringe in the middle of saying goodbye to all his guests. Pretty decent birthday, he'd say. --- It's not that Wilbur hasn't been freezing before, because he has, even outside of some dumb tundra. The main difference right now was that it was February and Phil had decided this was the perfect time of year to be in a place like this. He'd moaned and grumbled about it yet his father was having none of it. At least he'd been allowed his fair share of opportunities to pummel Phil with snowballs. There seemed to be an endless supply of ammunition here. Snow was also fun to run across sometimes. It was usually thick enough for him not to slip on the underlying ice too. So that's why, after getting temporarily distracted by a polar bear sighting, he dashes back to Phil's side without a second thought. There is less friction between his feet and the ground here. They really should have considered the ratio of ice to snow before any pounding transferral of body weight had been made. Neither he nor Phil had paid full attention to all of the increased risks until Wilbur was already in the water. He splutters. He kicks. He sinks and manages to drag himself back up again and again. And oh man, is it cold. Worse than cold. He wants to breathe, please let him stay upright long enough to catch a breath. His arms hurt too. They really, really do. It's like they're getting stabbed a bunch by icicles. Everything feels stabby like that, actually. He hates this. His mouth keeps getting hints of freezing salt too which is awful. Where's Phil? He's too busy trying not to bob down again to fully see. There's shouting though. "Wil! Wil, I swear to god, just calm down. Don't let the cold shock mess with you." 'Easy for you to say' is what he would bark back if he wasn't desperately trying his best to keep his head above the surface. "Wilbur, trust me, you're going to become a block of ice at the bottom if you keep reacting to the cold like that. Hang onto the edge and let yourself get used to the cold. That's it." He's still treading water a little too diligently when his body finally stops freaking out about the temperature so much. Phil will likely scold him for wasting energy like this. Not like he wasn't floundering in a panic a minute ago. Yeah no, Phil's totally going to have a go for that too. Wilbur was taught all this stuff when they got here. He should know exactly how to react in a situation like this. What if Phil hadn't been here? What would he do then, huh? Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Good, good. Now do your best to become horizontal." In the water, he forgets how to reposition his body. All his focus is on trying to move his legs accordingly and maintaining a secure enough grip on the ice. Glances towards Phil show that he's laying flat on his stomach as he instructs him. Something, something, surface area or spreading your body weight or whatever, right? When Wilbur has completed this next step, Phil slides a pickaxe over to him. Fumbling frozen fingers nearly allow it to slip under the water, out of reach. His co-ordination is practically non-existent right now but he still manages to position a tip of the pick into the ice. Dragging himself across to Phil is an arduous task but at least he's out of the water. They're on their stomachs until Phil feels absolutely sure they are not at risk of history repeating itself. After that point, he follows the man's lead by standing up with some help. He's barely on his feet when an external force is dragging his body in a direction he wasn't anticipating once more. Yet this time, he's in no real danger. It's just arms keeping him pressed against a heavy coat. Phil's shaking but not for the same reasons as him. "Christ sake, Wil. Try to be more careful next time. Otherwise I'll end up keeling over right here in the middle of nowhere." They reposition after a minute. Wilbur's hand is around Phil's waist while the winged man's grip secures itself to his son's left shoulder. Neither will drift far from each other like this. "You doing relatively alright, at least?" He hums briefly in response. Oh wow, that does not feel good. Vibrations are getting temporarily banned from his throat thanks. "Okay, let's get a move on then." "Okay. Ki- Kinda tired." Nope, nope, nope. "Can't- can't t-talk." He mumbles as they begin walking. "Shiv- shiverin' n' naus- naus-" "Nausea? Shivering and talking makes you feel nauseous?" The overwhelming tremors cause him to nod his head rapidly which is probably the most counterintuitive side effect he's ever experienced. Phil softly chuckles while drawing him in even closer with his arm. "Well, don't talk then, Wil. We'll sort out the shivering soon. After that, you can collapse in a heap on your bedding if you want." "Warn- warning. Just in... case." It's a struggle but he can't not communicate things that may be of importance. "Alright, alright. Thanks for the thought but you really should go easy on yourself, okay? It's not that far." Phil gets the fire going as soon as they return to their base. Wilbur simply sits there, desperately hoping his brain will stop sending signals to his throat and stomach to potentially prepare for a collaboration. His soaked clothes are stripped from him and replaced with blessedly dry ones. Any available blankets are piled on him for good measure. The past hour or so finally registers in full as Phil helps rub his arms through the layers in an effort to warm him up. "Pretty scary, wasn't it?" His father comments in response to the sudden bout of sobbing. "Try not to fall into anymore frozen water next time, alright? Don't think my heart could take another shock like that." "Do m'best." "Good lad." Phil smiles. "That's all I ask." He wipes a scalding tear off the boy's cheek as it comes cascading down. He'll sit with him and help discard of more tears hours from now when Wilbur wakes from visions of unending water or his mind fools him into believing he is caught in trembles that refuse to cease. And when it comes, Phil's decision to leave the tundra couldn't have brought more relief to Wilbur. --- It was odd. Soulbur had retained the part with the fire. He recalled the heat, the instinctual panic he felt upon realising he was in danger. He'd been able to somewhat be aware of when it had happened, that that disastrous moment had occurred during his 16th birthday. Although, that had been the extent of it. There were no birthday cakes or messing around in the water or well meaning banter amongst those he considered friends. He had even been oblivious to the identities of anyone who may have been present. When your safety and wellbeing are jeopardised, the last thing you're concentrating on is useless information like whether or not your father is standing beside you. So this was the kind of moments Ghostbur had hoarded for himself, was it? It feels so good. It's been too long since the last time he laughed. For a second, he can almost recall the feeling of drawing his stomach in as fuels for giggles and the pull of muscles as the corner of lips spread upwards. He waits for the inevitable withdrawal of it from his reach. His brain will go against him by discarding of the anomaly it just registered. Any second now. Maybe? ...No? Clearly, not enough time has elapsed. There is no point in getting his hopes up like an idiot. Except, he wants to. He desperately wishes this is not a fluke due to be rectified the moment he lets his guard down. It... isn't, apparently. And for the first time since he'd been abandoned in death, Soulbur kept a pleasant memory. It's not enough, a greedy part of him decides. No, he thinks Ghostbur needs to learn how to share. Surely there is more stored in the ghost's head than he needs. He won't miss a few more. Besides, why should that traitorous bastard get all the good stuff? Not to mention, they were as much his memories as they were Ghostbur's. They should have equal rights to them. All that seems to be required is a brief bit of skin contact. So that's what he'll do. Soulbur doesn't believe he has ever been the type of person to be all touchy-feely, not that he's particularly had the opportunity to prove otherwise, but for the sake of a few memories? Well, what's an occasional hand on the shoulder or pat on the back in the general scheme of things?

[the-hidden-writer]

I’ll Remember You This Way

Chapter 1: 2,857 words Read on AO3! (check reblog for link)

The story of one unsuspecting man named Edwin Jarvis and how his life and legacy are carried throughout the universe.

Edwin Jarvis -> JARVIS -> Vision

Snippets of that legacy include Tony Stark carrying his butler's words in his heart for his entire life and Wanda Maximoff sensing an unfamiliar presence in Vision's mind.

Chapter 1 : sun is shining in the sky 

There’s something quite unnerving about the night sky.

The chill of the night is brisk, and he knows that, logically, he should head inside to avoid catching a cold (and consequently facing his wife’s wrath)... but he can’t find it in himself to move.

Edwin has been intrigued by the stars as of late. His employer tells him to, as Mr Stark so eloquently put, “get his head out of the clouds and focus on Earth's problems”. And, once again, this should logically make Edwin lose interest and obey. Deep down, however, he knows there is more. So much more. But it probably won’t be discovered in his lifetime.

Ms Carter has told him of her missions working alongside Captain Rogers, and their discovery of the mysterious glowing cube that had fallen into the hands of Hydra which was most likely of extraterrestrial origin. Edwin felt it was quite the honour for her to trust him enough to tell him (what he thought were) rather classified details- that was actually what prompted him to impulsively ask her what exactly she thought of him. Ms Carter had not hesitated in labelling him as her best friend.

She had then burst into quite an uncharacteristic bout of laughter at the expense of his own embarrassment, and at the time Edwin had felt very much like they were school children giggling over a fellow classmate’s mishaps.

Who could have predicted that it would become quite an accurate description when a rather scandalous newspaper article was released the following day regarding the rumour of an affair between the esteemed Agent Carter and Howard Stark’s butler. For the benefit of both Mr Carter’s reputation and his and Ana’s own privacy, the pair had decided to keep their friendship as "their little secret” and maintain formalities when in public. But even with that and Mr Stark himself publicly denying any truth behind the rumour, it still took a few weeks for it to dispel.

Ana had teased the two of them for many more weeks after that.

As for the cube itself, there is something Edwin finds very strange about it. Mr Stark had been studying it relentlessly since it fell into his hands. Edwin had assisted as per usual and nothing was out of the ordinary, sans perhaps the secret behind its origins and abilities.

No, the strangeness began when Mr Stark asked him to continue studying it alone after Edwin had forced him to rest after over 24 hours of working in the lab. Howard had only agreed to do so if Edwin (who had the sense to stay well-rested) continued to work on it. So he did just that.

Mere moments after Mr Stark had left, Edwin felt himself being... drawn towards the enigmatic object. It was an extremely odd sensation. Though he knows it is impossible, it was almost like it was… beckoning him. Beckoning to come closer. To touch it. To hold it.

To break it.

Now Edwin had the sense to ignore whatever otherworldly temptations the cube was attempting to inflict on him and had simply continued to work as instructed. Yet despite that bizarre event, the thing that unsettled him the most was when Mr Stark denied having ever experienced such a feeling apart from the natural curiosity of an inventor to learn more.

They have worked on the cube many times since then, and every time Edwin would sense that strange calling only when he was alone. He’d worried at first that it was some form of hypnosis but Ana had assured him that he hadn’t changed in the slightest.

However he now found himself enthralled by the night sky, and what unquestionably lies beyond it.

Planets, stars, galaxies, life. The infinite possibilities of space.

And he is just one insignificant man within it all.

“Edwin?”

He is pulled out of his thoughts by Ana calling him from behind. Her face is stern but her eyes are concerned as she approaches him, wrapping her soft burgundy shawl tighter around her shoulders. Edwin immediately feels guilty for causing her to venture outside in such cold weather.

“You need to come inside now, dear. The stars will still be here tomorrow.”

He shoots her an apologetic smile and his heart melts at the way her pink lips part slightly as she lets out the smallest of laughs. She was probably waiting for him to come to bed as evidenced by the fact that her divine red hair is loose and flowing behind her in the wind.

It truly amazes him how beautiful his wife looks even in the most unflattering of situations.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he truly means it, “I was lost in my thoughts.”

Ana tilts her head up towards the sky. “I know they are beautiful, but surely your wife is too?” she teases, and Edwin finds heat rushing into his cheeks.

Smiling, she untangles one arm from within her shawl and offers it to him, but the second his hand touches hers she lets out a small gasp.

“Your skin is freezing!” She exclaims. “Buta emberem, come inside before you catch a cold.”

He wordlessly allows her to usher him inside as she mumbles in her own tongue about how her husband puts others too far before himself.

Ana was right. Ana was always right. She was more beautiful than any star could ever dream of being and he was well aware that he was blessed to be her husband and to have her in his life.

And yet… that night he still found himself dreaming of the stars.

~-.-~

“Am I doing the right thing, Jarvis?”

Howard’s words startle him just as he is about to leave the workshop.

Confused, he turns to face his employer. “What do you mean, Sir?”

Howard’s hands clench into fists at his side as he struggles to find the right words. “I don’t know, I just-” he sighs and looks up at Edwin almost desperately. “I climbed up from practically nothing to get here… what if settling down screws all that up? Screws up the company?”

Ah, Edwin understands now. He knew that Maria was different from the second she scolded Mr Stark without hesitation. She is so different from all the other women, and though Edwin knows that she would never use him he can also understand why his friend is worried. He does have a legacy, company and reputation to maintain, and tying the knot with the wrong person could hypothetically ruin all that.

But Edwin trusts Maria, and Maria loves Mr Stark.

“I think,�� he begins, uncomfortably aware that Howard is clinging on to his every word, “that you should follow your heart. Maria is a lovely woman and everyone can see that she makes you happy.” He notes how Mr Stark smiles at the thought of his girlfriend. “But I’m not sure if you should be asking me for this sort of advice, Sir.” He adds.

“Are you kidding?” Howard scoffs. “You and Ana have the best thing going that I’ve ever seen. The two of you are so sweet it makes me sick.”

Having perfected the art of not taking offence at Mr Stark’s offhand remarks, Edwin just brushes the comment aside and speaks to his employer slowly and calmly. “If I know you, Sir, that’s not the sort of relationship you’re looking for.”

Howard Stark has been involved with woman after woman, scandal after scandal, leaving his poor butler to deal with the aftermath of each one. So yes, Edwin knows all too well that the man would struggle with the commitment of marriage and the tower of responsibilities that comes with it.

“See, that’s my point!” Howard exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know if I can do it!”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, a small smirk tugs at Edwin’s lips. “Oh, I was under the impression that the great Howard Stark could do anything.”

It was astounding to watch as pompous a man as Howard Stark, with an ego as large as the sun, crumble with insecurity. It was an extremely rare sight to behold and Edwin has the feeling that he is the only person to whom Howard would reveal his inner vulnerabilities.

“You think so?” He asks.

Edwin’s snarky smirk is replaced by a genuine expression of reassurance. “That’s what people say, but I have to say that the man I know personally isn’t perfect. But I also know that Maria makes him whole, and that he needs someone to anchor him before he loses sight of what’s truly important.”

“Steve-”

“Yes, I know Captain Rogers is important,” he interrupts, “but you need to live in the present. He was in the past. I think that Maria could be your future.”

Mr Stark looks up at him for a few moments, presumably allowing his words to sink in. Then all of a sudden his eyes harden with an all-too-familiar determination.

“You’re right!” He cries. “I’m great- I can do this! What’s another challenge to me, right?”

Edwin resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Follow my heart? Well in that case it’s settled. I’ll propose to her tomorrow!”

“Wh- tomorrow?!” Edwin splutters, his calmness shattering with the shock of the preposterous statement.

Howard snorts and holds his hands up in surrender. “Just messing with you. Sometimes your advice is so good that I gotta make sure you’re not a robot or something.”

Edwin chuckles nervously.

“But seriously,” Mr Stark continues, closing the gap between them, “thanks, Jarvis.” He wraps his arms around Edwin’s torso (it’s an odd, childish position but it’s what suits their height difference the best) and squeezes him in a tight hug. Then his playful voice drops into a smaller, more serious tone. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He then pulls back and both men take a moment to adjust their clothing.

“You’re gonna be my best man, right?”

“Perhaps you should propose to her first before you get ahead of yourself, Sir. Take things slow.” Edwin decides to neglect mentioning how improper it would look for Howard Stark’s butler to act as best man and, as utterly flattered as he is, promises to himself to argue the point at a later date.

Mr Stark proceeds to practically hop back to his worktop to continue tinkering with his latest invention. It is a remote control of some sort and thankfully not that blasted cube. However, Edwin knows him well enough that his mind is elsewhere and is practically swimming with proposal ideas- which he will, eventually, end up asking for his help about too.

He doesn’t mind. Edwin just feels happy to help.

~-.-~

Edwin nearly jumps out of his skin as a slender hand taps him on the shoulder.

“Oh! I’m sorry to startle you, Mr Jarvis. I just… I was wondering if I could pull you aside for a minute. In private.”

Mrs Stark’s eyes are wide and alert, and she looks up at him with an air of emergency she’d never admit to having.

Being the ideal butler, Edwin obviously agrees. “Of course. Where would you like to..?”

“Our bedroom,” she supplies all too quickly, “if that’s alright with you.”

It’s not a question. All Edwin can do is nod politely, set his feather duster down, and follow Maria through the hallway and up the elegant main staircase of Stark manor.

Luckily, they don’t pass any of the staff on the way up. And since Howard was away on another of his business endeavours (which had become more frequent) there was no worry of bumping into him, either. Not that Edwin has any clue why Maria was being so insistent on secrecy.

Still, he would try his best to keep it. For her sake.

Once they had reached the large, extravagantly-decorated room and Edwin had locked the door firmly behind him, Maria let out a long, shaky sigh.

It’s only when Edwin turns to look at her does his worry start to sink in.

Her eyes are tired and her glorious brown hair is ever-so-slightly tousled. She still looks like a model, of course, but the fact that any imperfection is noticeable means that something must be terribly wrong.

“Is everything alright?” Edwin asks quietly once he realises that she won’t speak first.

Maria nods unsurely. “I… I don’t know.” She says, and Edwin can hear the lilt of her original Italian accent clipping her words- an occurrence that happened only when she was very stressed.

Unsure how to prompt her for more information without seeming rude, Edwin smiles comfortingly. “Is there anything I can do for you, Ma’am?”

“Edwin-” the use of his first name surprises him so much that it wipes the smile off his face- “you know Howard well, don’t you?”

Edwin is too busy worrying about where the conversation is heading to consider the question too deeply. “W-Well, yes, I suppose I do.” He stutters. “More than any of the staff, most definitely.”

Maria sighs again and moves to sit down on the bed. Edwin, having no idea if he is welcome to do the same, just stands awkwardly on the spot.

She twists the magnificent ring on her finger as she speaks, not looking Edwin in the eye. “…Do you know whether he wants children?”

“W-Well, I- um, i-if, erm-” Edwin stammers incoherently.

Maria holds up her ringed hand to silence him and finally meets his panicked gaze.

“I am pregnant.”

For a moment, Edwin believes he heard incorrectly. His expression doesn’t change as he waits for Maria to repeat herself. When she doesn’t, and the truth finally settles in, he feels the biggest, most-unprofessional grin slip onto his face.

“Oh Maria,” he says, forgoing all formalities as he quickly moves to sit beside her on the bed, “that’s absolutely wonderful!”

Rather than be offended, she seems to appreciate the use of her first name. She smiles in relief at Edwin’s positive reaction. “I only found out a few hours ago, you’re the first to know.”

“That’s amazing!” Edwin’s smile falters slightly. “Is it..?”

“Yes, it belongs to Howard.” Maria assures. Not that he had any doubt, of course, he simply just had to make sure in case she needed any support.

And, just to be extra sure, he cautiously asks another sensitive question.

“…Are you happy?”

Maria tenses for a moment, her eyes frantically scanning over Edwin’s face for… something. When she presumably does or doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she relaxes again.

“I’m overjoyed,” she says, her voice barely a whisper as she idly rubs her stomach, “but Howard-”

“Don’t worry about Howard.” Edwin cuts off firmly. “He is a grown man who adores you, he won’t run off when he hears- I’ll make sure of that. And though I can’t be certain what his initial reaction will be like, I can be certain that he will be every bit as happy as you are.” He smiles a little sadly. “I can only presume fatherhood does that to you.”

The fear doesn’t leave her eyes. “But how do I-”

“I can tell him, if you’d like, but I think he’d much rather prefer to hear it from you.” He interrupts again, reading her mind. “And I think it would be wise to wait until he returns tomorrow, otherwise he’ll grumble about unfinished work.”

Maria lets out a small, dainty laugh. It doesn’t sound entirely natural which does mean that she’s feeling more like herself. Then they fall into a comfortable silence, Maria twisting her ring absentmindedly as Edwin tries to settle his own giddiness from the wonderful news.

He truly feels ecstatic and over the moon for Mr and Mrs Stark. They are going to have a child! A small part of him can't help but feel jealous that he can never have that for himself.

He hates Whitney Frost with every fibre of his being.

But he and Ana have come to terms with the fact that they won't be able to have children, so instead he tries to channel all of his sadness into joy for his dear friends. Besides, he is sure that Mr Stark will let him babysit the child with Ana on occasion. The pair of them would do it for free without a second thought.

Suddenly, Maria shifts her position on the bed to face him before clasping his hand with hers.

“Thank you, Edwin.”

It is said with such sincerity that the use of his first name doesn’t make him even bat an eye this time. In that moment, it wasn’t a wealthy lady thanking her husband’s butler. No, it was an anxious woman thanking her friend.

“My pleasure.” He replies on instinct when she releases his hand.

“I’m sorry for keeping you.” She adds, and Edwin knows that’s his cue to leave. So, with one final smile of reassurance and glee, he leaves her to her own devices.

It isn’t until late that night, as he lies awake in bed with his wife beside him, that it occurs to him as odd that Mrs Stark told him first.

[shippingk8]

Freezerburn question. What do you think is Weiss and Yang's opinion on marriage?

It would depend on the context. Also, please remember... you asked for this~, lol (my imagination immediately took off so this got long)!

In “Recovery”/”Dissonance” universe:

Wiess POV: I have, hypothetically of course, already determined that I do wish to marry Yang, but for someone to voice that out loud so early into a relationship would be unthinkably embarrassing and seen as wholly irrational. That being said, there are several barriers currently in the way where marriage is concerned. 1) We are currently dealing with a world wide crisis of ineffable origin. 2) I need to sort my legacy affairs and establish a financially sound future for us both. 3) Our relationship is still new and we have only been dating for 4 months, additionally we are currently 20 years old, which is simply too young to be married. However, once these matters have been resolved I would be very open to marriage... with Yang specifically. Ostensibly, I have already thought about the future of our relationship and have a 16-step plan which (if schedules permit) could be enacted in the next 2 years. Said hypothetical plan would obviously not documented as it would be scandalous if such a document were discovered. If we were to further this thought experiment I would prefer if she proposed, but am not opposed to asking her if we had already had an extensive and protracted conversation about the matter of marriage before hand and I was 100% certain that she would say yes upon being asked. We would of course keep our own last names, but the children's names would be hyphenated. Note to self: start drafting a child acquisition proposal and subtly acquire data from Yang upon the 5th month of our relationship to help finalize said proposal.

Yang POV: Being with Weiss is amazing. Marriage can be good. But, all the people involved need to agree upon their needs beforehand and communication has to be prioritized if it is gonna work out. Our relationship is great, but I still need to prove my worth and potential as a partner before I can take our relationship to any new levels. I also need to remember that the future is unpredictable, so keeping any open mind about how and when things progress is important. But before everything is making sure that Weiss is safe and happy while we are together. I can’t imagine being lucky enough to get to spend the rest of my life with Weiss. If she wanted to, I would love to marry her someday, but I’ll be happy to be with her for as long as she will have me. Right now I’m just focusing on not messing things up.

In “The Bet” universe:

Weiss POV: I’m trying to be patient with the fact that Yang has not proposed yet, and it is possible that I think about her finally asking me to marry her on a weekly basis. I feel confidant that she will me, and I am doing my best to be understanding of the circumstances of her not asking yet. However, we are 26 and patience is towards the bottom of my list of strengths. Therefore, I have a plan that is detailed in several flowcharts and hidden a dozen folders deep on my personal computer said plan’s objective is to subtly accelerate the trajectory of our engagement. On more than one occasion Yang has mentioned that she is waiting for the right movement, so I thought perhaps I could provide some assistance in creating said movement. After I have won the bet, of course, I’ll give Yang a two month window to ask of her own accord before I initiate Project Ring. Said window will also afford me the time necessary to shore up our affairs and secure accommodations for a long overdue vacation. The itinerary will naturally offer a multitude of romantic locals and activities so that her proposal can still be a surprise if she so wishes. We have talked often about the future and getting married, and I truly can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. Through the course of our relationship I have become exceedingly confident that we will continue to support each other, but I would prefer to make it official. If for no other reason than I want to be able to call Yang my wife. Girlfriend simply lacks weight when considering what she means to me and the completeness our relationship has brought me.

Yang POV: It is unbearably shameful that I haven’t asked Weiss to marry me yet, but something is constantly coming up and she is never not busy. She is so amazing that I want the proposal to be perfect. I don’t want work or anything else to be in the way, I just want to make her feel as unquestionably adored as she deserves. I’ve come up with so many different ideas of how to ask, but a lot of them seem too ordinary and cliché, while the rest are over the top in a way that doesn’t feel authentic (any use of fireworks are a confirmed no go). I’ve narrowed it down to five options and the ring is safely hidden away at Blake’s. I just need her to take a moment away from work so that I can get a solid distraction free chance to sweep her off her feet.

In the “A Business Proposal” universe:

Weiss POV: Relationships and marriage are not an option until I am able to secure the legacy of our family’s company and fully take over for my father. My time table for this is age 28, which would hypothetically allow me to find a match and wed a suitably stable woman before I am 30. Blake has called me insane on more than one occasion, but also has been unable to propose an alternative to my specific predicament and restrictions. The occasional dalliance shale have to suffice in assuaging my desire for a relationship in the mean time.

Yang POV: Having a family and spouse has always been a dream of mine. While I’m not looking for anything serious until I get my feet back under me, I’m not opposed to an occasional hook up, but they have never sustain me. In fact, I often wonder if I am cut out for them at all. Which is a pain, because I am not for a lack of numbers at my current job. Sigh, it’s  better to stay unattached for now any way. Distractions will just slow me down from getting accepted back into my old culinary program. 

[staggeringsmite]

HELLO! just finished properly listening to your (amazing!) corruption arc playlist! I have many thoughts, and so I wanted to ask you about specific moments and/or characters that you associate with songs (as mentioned in your tags), as I am simply SO intrigued. (did you have certain songs that were added for certain character(s)? were any songs for specific what if's? etc.) also, please consider this a free pass to ramble about anything related to the playlist that you wish. it is SO excellent!!

AHHHH!! thank you jade (both for the compliment and the free space to yell about my thoughts here because when i get playlist brainrot i get it Bad <3) // the playlist in question

i think i'm genuinely going to do a song-by-song thoughts below the cut, but here are some overview thoughts/associations if you don't wanna read all of that or don't have the time!

overall this started with athena by nova twins! i thought the sp*der imagery and overall vibe was great for a more sinister look at the wacky (mostly) chaotic neutral party as they are, just going full lolth. i wanted the pacing to be semi-slow and then drop into the more rock-heavy reckless villain-y section before moving into a (?) bittersweet? i guess? end that feels a bit more like a question mark of if it was worth it.

i think this party is full of extremely interesting motivations to side with an evil power for their own gain/the benefit of the people they care about, and each one of them has a very complex relationship with that so things spun wildly out of control as a thought about this.

for songs i associate with specific characters here's an overview, but you'll notice there aren't a lot for fy'ra rai or orym which i get into a bit more in the song-by-song:

all: i come with knives, into the spin, steady/steady, control, bad dreams / lolth: million years, athena, diggers / dariax: diggers, plenty, hollow / dorian: athena, grenadine, dangerous / fearne: plenty, you should see me in a crown, black wave / fy'ra rai: home / opal: home, grenadine, black wave, you should see me in a crown / orym: i'm not calling you a liar, dangerous

song-by-song >:)

1. i come with knives (acoustic) - this song, zoowee, so i went with the acoustic version because i think it's a nice slow but sinister start and it very much gave me the feeling of whenever you begin as a character to question taking this kind of power, that is a Source yes that you can do whatever with but is rooted in temptation and associated with evil, is there any real justification for that which is not in some part selfish. "i come with knives and agony to love you" if that isn't the chosen ones to a T in their overall reasoning for even considering a deal with lolth. and as much as that may be rooted in care, and wanting to be strong and powerful enough to protect the people they care about, it is a painful way to love when you really choose that path once and for all.

2. into the spin - this one is based on "slow climb but quick to descend" and i love the instrumentation as a part of the overall vibe, but it's about sowing the seed here. planting even a hint of consideration in accepting the power of the circlet and lolth's words is going to need time for the person to mull it over, but once it's on it is On baby.

3. million years - this is what i mean by All In Baby, and while it isn't the playlists narrative point of anyone actually accepting the power for good, it is a glimpse intended to shake things up after an 8 minute slow start with the first two songs, and this is all about lolth who is a Chaotic Evil entity, who is a reckless and hauntingly destructive force <3

4. home - "everything you made will end up broken" i think this song to fy'ra rai is more of an omen, of everything that she cannot fix but wants to, knowing that she cannot make choices for the group and seeing the potential path they could wind up on and knowing that fundamentally if they go that way it is their decision no matter how much it will hurt her - for opal there is SOMETHING about the tone of this song that feels very much like her, and the complete lack of care it seems to have to rattle off mundane things to the intimate drama of the place, to omens, to demands/declarations i think it shows her personality well and how that pairs with a chaotic neutral entity being offered something like the power of the circlet

5. steady, steady - idk if this is necessarily everyone but the mix of you know when you're ready and i am ready to be the one, this is the song about taking the leap and grabbing for power and/or fy'ra rai and orym's feelings of diving in with them or resisting/leaving them

6. diggers - for lolth this is just the consistent "i've been waiting for you" in the bg which i found fun and disconcering but also i think this is the perfect party and perfect storm for her to convince someone to use the circlets power >:) - for dariax! it seems with what we know he doesn't really know that he is a divine soul sorcerer? unless that is a show he is putting up. still, i feel like him carrying the circlet is Very interesting as someone with a divine bloodline who is in a way being given/chosen for that type of power holding onto this artifact born from evil and perhaps being tempted by it & i think this song works as an interesting back and forth for him with the strange double-entity grab for him in a way

7. athena - truly just a banger that fit the vibes wayyyy too well and started this whole thing, it's loud and reckless and out for blood babey <3 - i think i associate it with dorian mostly because i also associate it with lolth and he is the closest to really taking that leap in canon (and also probably the first one the go if we're following this playlist like a story with everyone/most everyone going corrupt, though it can be read truly infinite ways these are just compiled songs) i think it has a certain flair and appeal that just makes me Feel like it's the song that would play the second dorian puts the circlet on (which! fun fact! decreases your charisma by 2! have fun beloved bard!) - i think it's a very intense conversation

8. i’m not calling you a liar - okayokayokay it's orym thought time bc there are sooo many worlds and routes for orym here and i truly have no idea where he would even end up in this hypothetical. do i think that orym loves these guys and wants to protect them? yes. do i think that he may genuinely take the pain of loving them and keep his morals by walking away and/or turning on them if they all go evil? maybe. do i think he also might love them enough to throw that away? maybe. in a party of all chaotic neutrals besides him without fy'ra rai he is surprisingly the wild card here. while they have each other and no one else, he has the teachings and wisdom of the voice of the tempest and a moral compass that does not align with theirs at all. so, something has to give! dorian's slide into chaotic neutral was natural, but i think orym would be giving up Much More of himself to let himself slide from neutral good to chaotic neutral. i have no answers only sad, sad hypotehtical questions and scenarios so i will just, leave you with "and i love you so much, i'm gonna let you kill me." - this song also comes here before the storm of the 3-5 because whatever way he goes i think orym sees it all happen before anyone else does.

9. grenadine - Do Not Tell Me You Couldn't Hear villainous opal and dorian say the lines "what a big heart i have, i'll be your savior now. what a real catch i am, all the more to pull you down." - i see this song as playful but more genuine for dorian in terms of Truly Really believing any action he does to protect his friends is justified and good to him in his eyes whereas this is a very playful song for a villainous opal - they both give off this vibe strongly though (could see this one for fearne as well but don't have a good a justification)

10. black wave - helloooooo my favorite druid and warlock?? going apeshit with power? more so than they already are on a day-to-day basis (esp given episode 6 combat)? that's what this song is about. "stumbling down the street i swear to god you don't wanna test me" - i also think they both have an interesting question with "what do i believe?" with fearne being of the feywild which is a place of considerably different moral standing to exandria and opal being so young that she doesn't have the world figured out at all <3 terrifying and upsetting when you get into those questions on a corruption arc <3

11. you should see me in a crown - okay i knooooow this one is on the dorian playlist BUT vibes for my brutal babes <333 something about opal’s whole personality and fearne confronting the mirror self But eventually choosing/heading down the path anyway?? impeccable i love it there’s very few other thoughts here

12. control - OKAY not only does this song Fuck but i put it as party wide because i think it transitions nicely into the end of the mix which is more of the “questioning this decision after going all in but not being able to turn back/was it all worth it in the end?” part - i mostly love the “though i like the idea of providence... i’m in love with control” repeated because! i think the circlet is very interesting in that it has been iterated many times over that though it has connections to lolth and she has some claim/twisted abilities with it, it IS just a power source. so, the idea of going all in and accepting this power is an incredibly interesting dilemma of “who’s in charge here? did you really put it on/would you have without these dreams and lolth’s influence? are you really in control?” i think this song really represents that admission/delusion of control in this situation.

13. plenty - okay this song in any context is just my Feywild/Faerie Vibe song so i think this trails back to my feelings about fearne leaning into that different set of fey morals along a corruption arc, and as for dariax i think this is about abundance! following through that mixture of divine power source and chaotic evil god origin over dariax and his chaotic history of vast and varied experiences in emon, i think this very much befits a corrupt version of him.

14. dangerous - this song makes me insane, and the first reason i put it on the mix was the “the dead are true believers. rest assured. we are all believers” really just made me think of a terrible and cinematic moment of them discovering the circlet with the dead aboard the ship ESP in the context of this playlist’s narrative where that was the point they were destined to claim its power and go through their corruption arc - “how does it feel to be your own deceiver?” is the main reason and feeling as for why i made this a dorian song as well in line with “don’t worry i would do anything for my friends.” bc i personally find dorian’s corruption arc to be disillusioned with his own intentions and takes a lot of convincing himself that taking this power for his friends is noble in the scope of this group’s collective morals and self-interest in keeping each other safe and prosperous so <3

15. hollow - woowee dariax corruption, at least in this scope, i think is very frightening to me in that i think he’s going full maximalist, abundant, greedy, impulsive chaotic evil if we’re realllly leaning into a villain arc but still many of those things if we’re just going “this group is the only thing that matters and i’ll do anything for them no matter the cost” - i also think this song has a tone of resentment towards this? apprehension a bit? recognizing that this is how the person singing is but not entirely enjoying or feeling justified in it? as impulsive as dariax is, i think he cares A Lot, and is even a character i could see pulling a reverse dorian and going chaotic good in a different story than we’re in? “so simple when i was younger” and “i���d be a dancer of a different tune” really give me angsty dariax vibes in the height of his corruption arc

16. bad dreams - “don't you worry about your bad dreams cause I'm not in them. don't you worry about what change brings cause you can't stop it.” WOOF i don’t know that this one really needs to be explained but it’s the climax and the descent all in one of the party/corrupted individual being too far gone in their decision to step back or be saved. i think the tone of the song lends itself well to a mixture of uncaring but also giving some question to if they regret it or not based on the narration of the crowd against them.

[missinghan]

「 light your sword ↠ lee minho 」

◦ warnings : mentions of blood & violence

The city of Kalmburg has it that no one has ever surpassed Lee Minho when it comes to the art of swordsmanship. 

“If you’re going to take on a guy who can parry a crossbow bolt with his sword as he’s contending against five other men, it’s time to re-evaluate the direction of your life—preferably while running away as fast as you can.”

The man walks up to the center of the town square every single day at the crack of dawn, his figure fully covered in a big black cloak, the hood thrown lazily over his head. All you can see is the strides he takes with his black combat boots. He almost belongs, but not quite. Kalmburg is known for its dashingly ornamental architecture — a white granite surface with serene spires can be seen from the castle at the top of the hill, soothing atmosphere and generically nice residents. Some say no beauty can be compared to its sunrise due to the dashing sight of a lake situated before the town square’s gate. 

Whereas, Lee Minho gives people a stark contrast with his dark aura and the black sword hung firmly on his back. He easily takes in everyone’s attention with a single sweep, his midnight orbs setting on nothing before he leaves as expressionless as he’s entered. His purposes and motives always remain hidden; hence the allure. Though it’s not hard to see how he’s making a good living on a daily basis. 

For one, he slays monsters; and for another, he deals with people. Outsiders might be surprised at how many units the Nobles are more than willing to pay him as long as he comes back alive, with the beast’s head limb in his hands. There were times when he’d come back covered in a sea monster’s gastric juice, other times he could barely walk back to the town because his spleens got severely damaged. But most of the time, he’d return as though he just got back from a stroll, outstretching his palm to collect the payment. 

Dealing with people is far more troublesome than those deadly creatures, Minho constantly tells himself so. It’s true, after all. Because when careless juveniles aren’t able to snatch their parents’ spare change on the dining table, they decide it’s a brilliant idea to challenge him for a duel. If they win, he’ll have to follow their request without receiving a single penny. But if things go the other way around, they will most likely come home crying for their mother. Such a nuisance. 

Today is no different. 

Moving into the morning light is a shadow wolf. His paws kiss the earth not gracefully, but rather with evident difficulties and there’s a ray of exhaustion in that pair of bronzed eyes. The wolf has seen better days. His silver-white fur is thin and it clings to his frame like an old cloak in a gale. Even from several yards away, Minho can count each rib as they’re sticking out, he sees dejection in his movements as if he’s gonna let himself tumble to the ground any moment. 

Minho carefully inhales, pulling out a silver dart from the back of his belt. He raises his hand and aims precisely for the pine tree, just a strand of hair away from the wolf’s ear. When he exhales, the thin needle comes flying past the creature before embedding itself to the wooden surface. 

The wolf whips his head towards the swordsman, locking eyes as he lets out a mere cry of pain, crimson dripping down on the side of his head. As Minho pulls his hood off of his face, slightly dubious that the creature of darkness will turn into a wisp of black smoke to take flight deeper into the forest, the wolf shakes his head before lying down on the soil, unable to coordinate his limbs. Then with his great grey head on his bloodied paws, he closes his eyes. He’s giving up on his life. 

“Something’s wrong. Shadow wolves’ blood isn’t supposed to be red,” Minho holds his breath in utter disbelief, taking a step backward. He’s got the wrong target. No, that client scammed him. 

A branch snaps. 

Minho reaches for his sword when the sound of thin air being ripped apart rings inside his eardrums, two blades coming in contact with each other and he has to squint slightly when tiny sparks of flame come to life between the weapons. Instead of looking at the raider, he quickly deflects their slash again. Hypothetically speaking, there are two possibilities: the first is that both swords are too weak to withstand the pressure of the blow, so they’ll simply break - in the exact same fashion. The second is in which case both blades are durable enough to field the contact, they will bounce right back. But his unwanted guest seems to detest him so much to the point they keep their sword grinding against his until their weapons slip against each other, creating a wave of grating shriek resonating through the woods, dust being thrown in the air. 

He stumbles backward, the sole of his shoes tearing the leaves below into bits. His vision shakes a little from the sudden attack before trying to focus on the figure before him. The first thing that he sees is the white wolf on the button of your silver-accent cloak. That’s the royal guards’ emblem.

“You,” the female voice catches him by surprise. “Lay another finger on that wolf now, I dare you.” You know all too well who this man is, and like hell you’re going to let him do what he wants just because of some cheap units.

Minho’s fully aware that his beating heart is thundering inside his chest, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the adrenaline flowing in his veins or those round eyes glaring at him from under the sunlight. He sees the grip on the hilt of your rapier being tightened and that’s when he regains his composure, taking in a deep breath. If he gave up now because of a pretty face with a deadly blade, he’d damn his reputation as a swordsman.

“Oh that wolf is all yours,” he smiles at you fakely, wiping the beads of sweat on his cheekbones away. “But you’re going to have to do better than snooping around on people.”

Minho steadies his grip on his sword, trying to keep himself together in the deafening silence, “So, who’s making the first move now?” The tonal mockery in his voice irks you and he seems to notice that too by the slight smirk tugging at his lips when the muscles on your face twitch. 

One. Breathe in.

You’re getting into your stance sideways, your blade eye level. This man doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. 

Two. Breathe out. 

Minho isn’t letting his guard down this time despite being slightly impressed with your skills. Usually, there aren’t many girls who take up sword fighting, at least not in his hometown so he thought you’d be sort of a novice. But your dexterity is beyond incredible, he can hardly see the tip of your sword. 

Three. “I am.”

You charge first by swinging your rapier at him from above, Minho receiving the clash with the flat of his blade. He circles away from you, keeping his sword in motion while constantly changing his stances and attacks. Rapiers aren’t very suitable for slashing or slicing since the blade is so long and thin, it can only allow its owner more speed, more precise stabs and thrusts but greatly lowers their defense. So if he can just catch you off guard…

When the tip of your sword grazes just above his clothed ribs, Minho’s reflexes kick in and his blade knocks yours away almost immediately. With the bewildered look on your face as a signal, he dodges as you attempt another stab at his left ear. This causes you to trip on your heels, your balance quivering the moment his sword slashes at the button of your cloak rather than your neck. To prevent yourself from falling, you jump and do a backflip safely, breath’s fraying as the piece of clothing is completely ditched by a tree. 

“You are strong, just like the rumors,” you breathe out a stoic comment, chest heaving up and down rapidly. 

“You aren’t too bad yourself either,” Minho grins; he hasn’t felt this much eagerness to fight someone other than monsters before. In other words, he’s never faced someone who knows what they’re doing with a sword as skilled as you are. 

You cock a brow at him, confused, “Why are you smiling?” 

“I don’t know, actually,” he shakes his head and hearty waves of laughter bubble up inside his stomach. The brunet sheaths his sword with a loud ‘clunk’, walking towards you to place a warm hand on your shoulder. “But good fight, you really know how to hold a sword.”

“Wait...aren’t we going to finish this?”

Minho picks up your cloak from the ground, outstretching his palm, “You seem like a person who knows what it takes so I don’t think that’d be necessary anymore. But I’d be glad to take you on again?”

This man is baffling you, and not in a good way either. Nonetheless, you still slide your sword back into its sheath and accept his handshake. “So you’re going to leave that wolf alone right?”

“Only if you tell me what happened to it,” Minho replies firmly, receiving a nod of approval from you. He actually seems like a solid person. Perhaps you can trust him. 

“That’s my brother, Chan.”