#also I maybe lied at the beginning I did also have a few sentences of the bucky-was-in-a-boyband AU that I wrote in a fugue state at 9 AM

[firstelevens]

seven sentence sunday

tagged by my beloved @philtstone to share seven sentences of a wip and I have nothing to offer but a tiny slice of the teachers au no-pressure tagging @ankahikoibaat @sesamestreep @sonseulsoleil

“Bucky,” Foggy calls out, and the man in question whips around immediately. The mild alarm on his face evens out when he sees the three of them, although a second later it turns into what looks like confusion.

“What are you doing?” Sam hisses at his soon to be former best friend. “Foggy, I swear to God.”

But Foggy ignores Sam’s pleas and Bucky’s less than enthusiastic expression. “Come sit with us; it’s a zoo in here,” he says, and waves off the noises that Bucky makes about not intruding.

Sam has been at the receiving end of Foggy’s determined good will, and he can’t blame Bucky for the slightly dazed expression on his face as he sits at their table.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Sam says, when he sees Bucky’s shoulders starting to hunch forwards uncomfortably. “Foggy’s powers of persuasion can bend reality; I once saw him get a belly laugh out of Principal Fury.”

[mrsshabana]

Okay I’ve got an idea for you

Soulmate Tattoo AU but Gyutaro never had one as a human and it only develops some time after he became a demon.

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 ♡ 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒰୨୧ ・Content Gyutaro x female!reader, canon-ish, soulmate au, fluff, angst ꒰୨୧ ・Note I've been meaning to answer this ask for so long! Honestly I wish I could write an entire fic about this but I had to stop myself. I've always wanted to write for a soulmate au so if you want to see more don't hesitate to ask! ♡ (Also I've never written for a soulmate au before so I'm sorry if I did it wrong)

It all happened so fast.

Just a moment ago you were walking home from the night market. And now you find yourself pinned to the ground in a dark alleyway fighting for your life. Some monster grabbing at you, trying to make you his next meal.

He's unlike anything you've ever seen before, but it doesn't take long for you to deduce that he's a demon. You've only heard people tell stories of them, but you never would have imagined they were real.

His large hand wraps around your mouth so you can't scream.

"Pathetic," he snarls, "Just going to let me kill you without putting up a fight?"

You try to kick and scream but you're powerless against him. His lips curl into a sadistic smile. A deep, hyena-like laugh comes from his throat.

"You're so disgraceful, I almost feel bad for you!"

For a split second, he's too busy antagonizing you to notice that you're wiggling out of his grasp. "Fuck you!" you hiss, kicking his groin and desperately crawling away.

Immediately the demon hunches over and groans in pain, "You... bitch..."

Unfortunately, the blow doesn't do as much damage as it would a human, and he's recovered quicker than you expected. You were only able to get a few feet away before he grabbed your ankle.

"You'll pay for th-" he stops mid-sentence and stares at the spot above your ankle.

An intricate pattern lies there, one that you were born with. It looks like a random splotch of ink at first glance, but when you look closer it resembles the shape of a heart.

The demon gulps audibly, suddenly the entire aura around him shifting. Without an explanation, he gets on one knee and pulls up the hem of his pants to reveal a mark that looks identical to yours.

"You... You're my soulmate," you whisper in disbelief.

The demon's hand begins to tremble as he keeps a firm grip on your ankle. "It-it can't be..."

"P-Please, maybe we-"

"Shut it!" he snaps, his teeth getting dangerously close to your face, "I don't care who you are! You're gonna be my next meal!"

He pulls out a weapon you didn't notice he had. It looks strange, like something you've never seen before.

With a look of amusement on his face, he swipes the blade of the weapon across your throat.

But nothing happens.

"...what?" he frowns and presses the blade harder against your neck. But it won't cut your skin.

It really must be true then. This demon is your soulmate, and lucky for you soulmates can't bring harm to each other.

You always heard about soulmate tattoos and how you were destined to find that special person one day. But a demon? Really? Sure, he's pretty cute but he's still a demon!

However, you're honestly just happy to be alive. At least now you don't have to worry about the demon that lurks around the entertainment district making you his dinner.

Meanwhile, your soulmate stares at you with wide eyes, hurriedly stepping away from you as if he's disgusted by you.

"Wait! Please don't go," you reach out to him, "Maybe we can work something out..."

"Tsk, I want nothing to do with you. I don't need a soulmate," he snarls, looking you up and down one last time before disappearing into the night.

You stay in that spot longer than you should, hoping he would return.

Of course, you know that demons are dangerous, but a part of you can't help but feel some kind of unconditional love for him. He is your soulmate after all.

But after some time passes you give up on love. The demon never comes back so you figure there's no point in even trying to find love in the future. If your destined soulmate doesn't even want you, then why would anyone else?

As weeks pass you go on with your life and try to forget about the demon. You're pretty sure he's long forgotten about you, but you couldn't be further from the truth. He's just been really good at hiding it.

Gyutaro hasn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since that night.

He went his entire life convinced that he was unloveable. But then suddenly this gorgeous human shows up on a silver platter just for him. It was a lot to process in the moment, but as time passed he couldn't help but sprout feelings for you. Especially after he stalked you and got to see how cute you are.

It started with him following your scent around the district, finding out where you lived, stealing your mail to get all of your personal information, and then breaking into your home while you slept.

Sure, maybe it's a bit creepy and weird but he's a demon! He has no morals at this point.

When he was a human, soulmates were the least of his worries. He was too busy scrounging for food and trying to survive to care. There were plenty of marks on his body, but none of them were the mark of a soulmate. The one on his ankle only appeared years after he became a demon. But honestly, the thought that this mark was actually the mark of a soulmate never crossed his mind. He always believed that a soulmate was never in the cards for him.

Normally he would never catch feelings for anyone, let alone a human. But when he met you it was like a switch flipped inside of him and he couldn't help but feel drawn to you.

And now, as he spends more and more time around you he begins to get careless. His feelings start to get stronger and overpower his rational thoughts. This whole time he's told himself that he'll never let you see him and he'll always just admire you when you're asleep. But the urge to touch you starts to get too strong. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel your skin under his fingertips. To just hold you in his arms if only for a few seconds.

As he stands above your bed, looking down at you as you sleep blissfully unaware, he can't stop himself from crawling into your bed with you. It's like his body moves on its own, all of his anxious and self-hating thoughts get momentarily pushed aside. And all he can think about is you, and how right this feels.

You feel large, firm arms wrap around you - slowly waking you from your slumber. Typically someone would feel terrified to wake up suddenly in the embrace of a stranger. But you already know who this is. Your body knew it was your soulmate before you even opened your eyes.

After all of these weeks, you tried to forget about him but you never could. Ever since that first night you met him you felt like a part of you was missing. And he felt it too.

But now you feel complete with him by your side. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't hate himself. He doesn't feel like a disgusting, ugly, disgraceful waste of space.

He feels loved.

[rosiebeetle]

Different beetlejuice headcannons I have depending on actor!!! Because this is my account and why not :3 (tw for mentions of hanging and homophobia a long with abuse. Iget very srs when it comes to my juice lore)

Justinjuice: adhd/hyper compulsive pan/non binary sowhere under the I don't give a fuck umbrella yk doesn't care what pronoun you use. He definitely was a human or "breather" before death but he died somewhere in the 1700s maybe 1600s (Pilgrim times you get the gist) he was sentenced to death by hanging because him and his lover got caught together once (kissing.. Get your mind out of the gutter) his past lover just so happened to look like Adam and have the same name. Past lover was able to escape while bj unfortunately did not. That is the reason he is so drawn to Adam but he doesn't know that because he doesn't remember anything from his past besides a few flash memories. (This hc based on me and my girlfriends au rp thing we have) Juno was absolute trash to him but still lied and said he was her son. Juno basically forced him into the human world to watch the maitlands since they were important and needed to die and go to the netherworld quick he also has BPD or bi polar because I say so and I like projecting

Brightjuice: autistic mainly highly sensitive to touch and lights and stuff also very needs to move at all times or he will start exploding (his head tilts t Rex arms ect) greysexual/bi and genderfluid (mainly he/her) he was definitely a born dead, Juno in my opinion TRIED to be a good mother but grew tired of his autistic meltdowns fast and quickly became a bad one. The reason why I think he's more of a born dead is because of his actions and maneruisms (idk how to spell it sorry..) He's very unhuman like especially compared to all the other juices (very buggy twitchy, not very good at being among the living)

Koberjuice: definitely a mix of audhd definitely on the spectrum there more sensory than hyper, hates fur like absolutely despises the feeling (very specific ik shush) but like the scratchy fur they put on those shitty stools at Burlington and the fur on short hair dogs (like pitbulls) but long softer furs like bunnys and cats is ok it just has to be soft. Very bi and doesn't really have a gender label he just likes he/she sometimes they and enjoys it when people asks what hes feeling today. Also a born dead but unlike brightjuice he never really spent much time with other dead people, Juno was a shit mother to begin with so to escape he hung around humans a lot putting on a humany look to avoid people hating him but in his early 20s Juno found out and cursed him (I unfortunately do not have a koberjuice gif.. So have this!)

Blumjuice (just what I've taken from the clips since I have watched a full boot so sorry if this is more out of character..): adhd like justinjuice very hyper likes to move and stuff and just very touchy he likes touchy touchy things yk the type of guy to go to a craft store or home Depot just to touch shit. Also bi but more he/they than she, it's very rare that he likes she to be used but there are times. Also was a human before dieing but he died more roaring 20s from getting involved with some bad people (hence the whole suit and style) stayed very connected with the world after becoming a demon though, not COMPLETELY dumb about technology but he does need help using it though (again.. No gif of hin.. Forgive me stolen from erynn COUGH)

[moonspirit]

hello, i’m back, i was just wondering what you think eren said to the others in the paths. we saw armins and mikasas but not the other scouts/warriors. you’re pretty much the only writer on tumblr that doesn’t intimidate me so i asked you 👍 (your wife needs to be tied to a tree)

Hello again behyuu xD But please! Don't fear clouds, she's just a smol smol! Go befriend her!

But this is a really interesting question; I've thought about it a few times, and more along the likes of: "what is the kind of relationship Eren shares with these people?"

(Edit; this became incredibly long 🥲)

I think there are people Eren would and wouldn't have talked to, really. In the latter category falls Levi, imo. But that takes off on another tangent entirely, so for now we'll stick to the rest.

To Reiner, I like to believe Eren would've shown him an alternate reality of what happened in Liberio, perhaps one where he doesn't transform, and instead has a long conversation with him where both of them are offered something akin to "forgiveness" by one another.

These two are parallels to each other in that mutual sense of crippling guilt that came with carrying out the destruction of each other's homelands, not out of hatred, but simply because they needed to do it, in order to achieve something bigger. Reiner, because he wanted to fix his family and become an honorary Marleyan to rid himself of the shame. Eren, because his "peaceful world" for lack of a better word, was turned upside down and trampled upon - though in the end, it was just his selfish and violent nature that set him off on this path. Reiner and Eren understand each other in a way that others don't - neither wanted to do what they did. But they did do it, and that sin will simply be too massive to contain. But Reiner lives despite not wanting to, and Eren dies despite not wanting to, and they are split into two different worlds by the end.

Tl;dr - They talk about how, in another world, where maybe there aren't titans, Eren would've continued to admire Reiner as he did before Trost. And Reiner would cry. End of story.

With Pieck, I hc that the conversation would've been short. Pieck is a very interesting character, imo, because she's literally the most grounded of all the scouts and warriors. She owes no allegiance to Marley, nor Paradis, doesn't have an ulterior motive and is basically stuck watching the doomed world from the ground. There is no solution for her - she as an Eldian will be used by Marley and killed in Paradis - she's literally the only character who understands this from the very beginning. That said, her impression of Eren is, simply put, that of an immature child running riot (incidentally, this is also what Levi probably thinks). If we take into account the fact that her first meeting with Eren was one where she tried to fool him by channelling her (fake) solidarity with Paradis and rejecting her Marleyan upbringing, what lies between these two characters is the anger of being born on different sides of the wall. Eren's actions also resulted in Pieck losing pretty much everybody she knows. As such, I believe what could've transpired between them in the paths, would've been an apology from Eren for destroying Liberio, for killing Udo and Zofia, and telling her maybe, that had these suffocating walls between them never existed, perhaps they would've been peaceful strangers, passing by on the streets now and then.

With Jean and Connie, the conversation would've been very difficult. Sasha. How do you talk about Sasha and forgiveness in the same sentence? So Eren was tortured by his fate, by having to see everything play out as he'd seen it, without any change, and Sasha's death was one of the many terrible consequences - doesn't negate the fact that it still happened only because he "chose" this path. All the people in the 104th truly have an incredibly tight bond - it is what makes it all the more painful knowing that Eren drifted away until he had to be killed by the very same group of people. I like to imagine Jean and Connie beat him up, really. Among the many female characters in SnK, Sasha was someone with an incredibly pure soul - she cared about people and food and fun - and her death was catastrophic. Eren's selfishness caused it, there's no other way to put it. There's also the dynamic between Jean and Eren - that love-hate rivalry that was so sad to see end. And so I want to believe Jean and Connie just keep pummeling him until they're all tired and they stare at the sunset, reminiscing on all the times Eren was a reckless piece of shit.

Falco and Gabi then. The former will honestly carry the guilt of ferrying Mr. Kruger's letters to and fro, during Eren's homeless era. In this respect, I like to think that Eren will tell him not to carry it, to blame it all on him, because he's the one that lied and made him do it. What can possibly be worse than willingly inflicting guilt on a child as young as he once was? Let Eren be cool for once, and offer this reassurance. How Falco deals with it as he grows up, is another story. As for Gabi - the textbook example of brainwashing, she is a splitting image of Eren in so many ways. Eren however, did not allow himself to find the acceptance that Gabi did. And so perhaps what he tells her, is that he's glad. Glad that she joined the alliance to stop him. It's enough that there's one Eren in the world.

Who's left?

Ah. Annie.

This is honestly very interesting to me because, first of all, I just know that the minute Eren opens his mouth in Paths, Annie's knee is going to dislocate his jaw. She has not one iota of sympathy for this pathetic loser causing so much trouble, making her fight when she didn't want to, but because he dragged his dearest friend (and her future husband ffs) into the chaos. He wasn't. Letting. Her. Be. In. Peace. Oh she's going to snap a few bones and put them in a blender, I know it, I know it!

But jokes aside! Annie and Eren are also, a bit similar in some respects. Both are selfish, incredibly so, it's only that their end goals are vastly different in scale. At the same time, they are also both people who care for their loved ones, even if they don't openly show it. They see themselves as monsters, but are loved by the people around them nevertheless. Annie never really had anything like a real childhood, and the concept of having friends was something unnecessary and foreign in her terrible upbringing. I really think that it was only in Paradis that she found comfort, some warmth, what food tastes like when shared with people that treated her more or less the same as anybody else, and so learned to open up (very slightly). But still having a wall around her to keep potential threats at bay and to conserve her energy, it must've felt quite special when Eren appreciated her fighting skills and even took them to heart, making an effort to learn for himself. At a time when she probably prided herself on her strength and fighting prowess alone and nothing else, that could've been incredibly validating.

She didn't hate Eren. She thought of him as a moron, but she didn't hate him. She didn't really hate anybody, the way Eren also never "truly" hated anybody. They were just forced at each other's throats by his choice. We have to remember that Eren also didn't find it easy to accept that Annie was the FT. He did really look up to her and admire her.

I like to think he understood her dedication to sticking to her mission, not as being loyal to Marley, but for a reason more personal (not sure if he could've known about her father, post gaining his future memories..?) and that, that in itself, isn't wrong. Eren's selfishness also stems from an incredibly personal desire after all.

So what would they talk about? Maybe he'd tell her she should continue to be selfish. Because her desires, unlike his own, are harmless. And also drop hints about how his, um, his best friend Armin, is very smart and also very hot and maybe she'd like to... Um... Idk? <3

Whew 🥲

Edit2: I forgot Historia. Idk, considering she'd just given birth and was probably conked out with exhaustion, it's nice to think he'd have just watched her holding her baby, sadly, whispered "You're free" and then disappeared.

[callsigndragon]

Desperate times, desperate measures | Ch. 3: Mr. & Mrs. Seresin

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!writer!reader (Most of the times, she will be called Page)

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of death, bureaucracy stuff, idiots being idiots, EMMA'S FIRST (and short) APPEARANCE, jake mentions sex once? This is a biiiiiiiig slow burn, man.

A/N: i posted this, but I'm not here lol. small chapter, but at least we have a chapter.

It's okay if you like it and all, but please... a comment is also welcomed and if you reblog it? I'll kiss you on the forehead.

Masterlist

“So you got married recently?” The lady at CPS says, while typing away on the computer. 

You clear your throat, looking at Jake before answering. “Yeah, we were planning on getting married in a few months, and our friends were going to help us organize the wedding, but... They’re not here anymore.” 

The lady, who you think is called Sandy, looks at you with a sorrowful expression. You want to roll your eyes. How can Jake’s plan be working? When discussing how to approach CPS about your rushed wedding, he said to pull the "our friends died" card. And it’s working. 

“I’m so sorry that you had to rush your wedding… I’m sure it was going to be a wonderful event.” She says, turning the chair around once the printer starts buzzing. Once those documents are signed, Emma will be yours. And parenthood will begin as soon as Emma is in your arms. 

“We were going to get married at the beach. It was a beautiful place.” Jake replies, placing his hand on your leg, just inches away from your knee. The contact burns your skin, and not in a romantic way. 

“Oh my god, a beach wedding? It would have been absolutely beautiful, Mr. Seresin.” The woman says, writing a few things on the document before giving it to you. She’s literally swooning over Jake right now. 

Pretty much like all the women you have seen in the parking lot before entering the building. 

“I’m just sad that my pretty…girl didn’t get to have the wedding of her dreams.” Jake continues with his lies and his intentions of fooling the CPS worker as much as possible. You’ve noticed the small pause, doubting about the next unsaid word. It feels like pronouncing the words "his" and "wife" in the same sentence was as hard as taking down an enemy aircraft. 

“I’m sure you’ll get a chance in the future.” She hands you the papers and two shiny blue pens, pointing to the blank spaces where you two have to sign. 

You grab the pen, feeling its weight, twirling it around your fingers, trying to find the perfect position to write with it. It feels uncomfortable, no matter how much you try it. But it’s not the pen that feels wrong. 

It’s you, signing a paper where it says that Mr. and Mrs. Seresin are now legal guardians of Emma Hawkins, who doesn’t feel comfortable. Because once this process is over, Emma Hawkins will cease to exist. She’ll be Emma Seresin. 

That’s all that's left of them. Their surname. And it will be gone. 

Just like they are.

“Well, give me a second, and I’ll bring you your daughter.” Sandy announces with a smile, saving all the files into the folder that is soon stored in a drawer. After that, she leaves the room, the sound of her heels echoing down the hallway. 

“My daughter.” 

You turn your head slowly in his direction, feeling Jake’s words as your own. “It’s our daughter now.” 

“She’s not. She’s my dead friend’s daughter. Not mine.” He clenches his jaw, bouncing his leg up and down, and you wonder if this situation isn’t too much for you too. Maybe they shouldn’t have named you two Emma’s legal guardians. 

“Sorry to break it to you, pal. But once the process is over, she’ll have your name. She’ll be your daughter.” 

“Where the fuck did I get myself into?” He mutters, covering his face with his hands. 

“It was your idea,” you remind him, noticing that you still have the pen in your hand. You leave it on the desk, watching all around the room. They may look after children here, but this is the most boring place you've ever visited. Not even a child-related thing hangs on the walls; there’s only framed certificates and a clock. “I was ready to do this on my own.” 

Jake lets out an airy chuckle, getting up from his chair and pacing around the room. “They wouldn’t let you, you know it.” 

“I could’ve tried. But now I’m married to you for a fucking year.” 

He points a finger at you, leaning a bit over your seated figure. "I will not allow strangers to look after my goddaughter."

You slap his hand away, standing up to look him in the eye. “It’s your daughter, now.” 

“You’re fucking annoying,” he mumbles, stepping even closer and not even once darting his eyes away from yours. 

“You’re a hypocrite. You don’t want her to be adopted by someone else, but you refuse the idea of calling her daughter.” 

Jake clenches his jaw, talking through his teeth. “I’m not a father.” 

You pat his chest, whispering slowly your next words. “You’re a husband and a father now, Jake Seresin. Don’t think you can go around and live your life the way you’ve been doing it until now.” 

He’s so close now that you can smell his perfume. It smells good. It's strange how his entire being makes you want to vomit, but his essence is pleasant. “So what, you want us to play the loving family, invite our friends for dinner, and when they leave, we end up fucking on every surface of the house?” 

You scoff, wondering what the fuck he's on. "Do you intend to do that with your future wife?" 

“I don’t know if I’ll have a wife after this horrible experience.” 

“You better not. My heartfelt sympathies go out to the poor woman who has to deal with your sorry ass." 

“You little–”

Jake's words are cut short when the CPS worker opens the door. You were so engrossed in your conversation that you forgot where you were and why you came here. Did she hear something? Did she hear you say all those things, and she knows that you have lied to her in her face? What are you going to do? 

Your body acts on its own, taking advantage of the close distance you two are at, and you grab Jake by the neck, pulling him down so you can kiss him. Two newlyweds kissing? Yeah, nobody will be surprised by that. 

As if he knew the intentions behind your actions, his hands move to your waist, pulling you close. Playing the part, like he has been doing all day. 

“Oops, looks like mom and dad are having fun!” Sandy says, opening the door entirely with Emma in her arms. 

You can see in her little face that, even if she can’t comprehend what has happened, she knows that something terrible has occurred and that her life is not the same. She seems to have been crying, and her cheeks are still wet. 

“Oh my god, Emma!” You rush to her, grabbing her in your arms and securing her from the rest of the world. She hangs to you, her tiny fists clenching into your clothes. 

It's like she’s trying to hold on and not lose any other member of her family. 

“Hey, baby girl.” Jake walks to you, and Emma’s face lights up, emitting gleeful sounds of pure happiness. Jake might be a player and an idiot, but he loves this little girl more than anyone else in the world. “Oh yeah, I missed you too.” 

“You can take her home now. I wish you the best for your marriage. I know you’ll last. I can see how much you love each other.” 

Jake and you look at each other, raising an eyebrow. 

Maybe you should stop writing and start an acting career.

Once you leave the building, you go back home. Well, what now is your home. Anne and Luke’s will said that you had to live in their house. Gabs is there, waiting for you two. She has offered to take care of her all afternoon while you two go to your houses and get all the necessary things. 

“How are we doing this?” Jake asks, driving all the way to your house. “We can’t pack everything today.” 

You sigh, leaning your head against the window. “I know. And their house doesn’t have room for all my books.” 

“How many books do you have?” 

“More than I can read,” you confess, earning a snort from the man. “Do you read?” 

“When I have time. I don’t read your chick lit romance stuff, so don’t ask me about it,” he says, driving slowly once he enters the street you live on. 

“I wasn’t counting on it.” 

He parks in front of your house, a place that has been a refuge, and now you have to leave. “You want help?” 

You tear your eyes away from the main entrance and look at him. “You offering?” 

“I guess if I help you here, and you help me in my house, we’ll be faster. You know Gabby has stuff to do.” 

You nod, knowing that he’s right. “Yeah, sure. Come in.” 

He turns off the engine, grabs two boxes from the back of his truck, and walks behind you until you reach your doorstep. He chuckles when you open your bag to look for the keys. You turn to look at him, frowning. “What’s so funny?” 

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d let me in your house,” he responds, scratching his eyebrow. “Not after that date, at least.”

“It wasn’t even a date. We never got to the restaurant,” you recall, shaking your head at the thought of that horrifying night. 

“You didn’t want to go out with me, Page.” 

You open the door, enter your house, and turn on the lights. “Actually, I did.” 

“You did?” 

Why does he sound surprised? “Yeah. Luke said so many good things about you. I was interested in getting to know you better.” 

“Miss Page had a little crush on the fighter pilot, huh?” Jake teases, and you grab a pillow and throw it at his head. 

“No. And all the chances of me having a crush on said fighter pilot died when he made a booty call while we were still in the car,” you move around the living room, collecting your laptop and charger and some other things you might need. 

“I must confess, that was a dick move.” He admits, opening the boxes and leaving them on the sofa. “I’ll go get the edibles from the fridge.”

You watch him walk away, feeling bad for him. You two are acting like idiots one second and being civil the next. You've had too many emotions in the last few days. “Jake?” 

He turns around, looking at you. “Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry for being mean to you. You’re having a hard time, like me. And... I'm sorry you’ve lost your best friend.” 

Jake’s eyes shine a bit more than usual, the result of the unshed tears that threaten to fall. “Thank you, Page. I’m sorry for saying all those things back in the office. It’s…this isn’t how I wanted to marry, you know?” 

You nod. Of course you know. “I write romance novels, Jake. I crave the romanticism and the slow burn and falling in love and…” you sit down, letting out an air you’ve been holding since who knows when. “I won’t have that anymore.” 

“In a year, you’ll be free, Page.” He reminds you, leaning over the threshold, arms crossed across his chest, tightening the t-shirt around his muscular biceps. “Just a year.” 

“It’s easy for you to say, but… I’ll be a divorced mom in a year. Who wants to marry a divorced mom?” 

Jake wants to say something that’ll make you have more confidence in yourself and maybe have hopes for the future, but he knows that there are a lot of men that will run away at the thought of you having a baby. It’s not going to be impossible for you, but it would be complicated. 

“You’ll find someone, Page. I’m sure of it.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

“We’ll think about it in a year, okay? Now pack your things, we still have to go to my house.” 

You put all the things you’ve found around the living room in one of the boxes and move upstairs, followed by an uneasy feeling. Maybe you have to enjoy this year. It might be the only opportunity in married life you’ll ever get.

BONUS: Luke and Anne's (Now Jake and Page's) house:

@halibshepherd

@mygyn

@the-romanian-is-bae

@justanothermagicalsara

@drakelover78

@celestialeviereads

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[solardee]

Dawn of a New Dream - Chapter 2

“Do you think any of the berry bushes are ready yet?” Dawn asked his brother as he hung from the vines of their tree.

“I don’t think so,” Dusk replied, “everything’s still only got flowers right now.”

Dawn scrunched his nasal ridge in mild confusion.

“The tree doesn’t.”

“The tree never has flowers,” Dusk said patiently, fiddling with the willow branches they collected from the river’s edge a few hours ago, “it will only ever have apples.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because.”

Dawn waited for his brother to elaborate, but no such explanation came, “Because why?”

“ ‘Cause that’s how it works. It’s not a food apple tree.”

Dawn made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, slipping from his swing so he could sit on the forest floor beside his brother. He knew the apples weren’t meant to be eaten, of course he did! The feelings of foreboding energy they gave off were a tell tale sign of that.

But that didn’t explain why it didn’t follow the natural cycles of life they had watched and influenced in other plants.

“It's still a tree though!” Dawn argued, crossing his legs and putting his chin on his fists, “Why doesn't it die and bloom like everything else does? The apple blossoms would be pretty I think.”

Dusk hummed, setting down his half woven willow branches in his lap, “Yeah, blossoms would be pretty cool,” while he conceited to his brother, he still frowned, “but where would the magic go while the tree is dead?”

Dawn frowned at that too, “I… I dunno. The roots?” 

Dusk scoffed, “Nothing blooms on roots, that's dumb.”

“No it isn't! Mushrooms grow in roots.”

“Mushrooms grow everywhere, roots don't count.”

“Apples can grow anywhere too!”

“They only grow on apple trees-” Dusk’s argument was cut off as Dawn tore a bit of grass from the turf they sat on and threw it at his face, “pleh- ew! Dawn!”

“Grass also grows everywhere~” the pink clad skeleton sang as Dusk glared at him.

“This is why you’re the baby brother…” Dusk grumbled as he picked the clippings from his shirt. Dawn gasped in offense.

“I am NOT the baby! We’re twins, so we-”

“Yes you are, I am a whole 3 hours older than you,” Dusk huffed with immense self satisfaction.

Dawn grumbled, crossing his arms as he sat back, “Whatever, at least I’ll be taller than you.”

“Will not.”

“The last Guardian was!”

Dusk frowned a bit at that, “Well duh. He was old. Of course he was taller than me. I bet his brother was taller than him before I woke up.”

“You don’t know that, you didn’t ever meet him!” Dawn argued.

“Well you never met the other guardian so how would you know he was taller than you?” Dusk said as he turned his attention back to the willow branches in his lap.

“Because you told me squirrel for brains!” 

Dawn had straightened out his spine, attempting to gain just an inch on his hunched over brother. The smug grin of his face was heard through his voice, because Dusk glanced up from his work with a sly smile of his own.

“Maybe I lied to you,” Dusk hummed with a shrug.

“You didn’t!”

“Yeah, I did, he was really the size of a grass blade,” Dusk snickered at Dawn’s devastated expression, holding up his fingers in a pinched notion, “He was thiiiiiiis big, said he shrunk when he got older so his brother was so much taller than him and-”

Dawn grabbed his brother by the shoulders mid sentence, beginning to shake the other in exasperation.

“Nuh-uh that’s the lie!! You’re lying right now, stop it!” Dawn whined as the shaking slowly stopped to Dusk’s amused giggles.

The expression on Dawn’s face didn’t lighten up by much though.

“... He wasn’t really that tiny, was he…?” the sunnier twin asked, much softer this time.

Dusk paused in his willow branch weaving, taking in Dawn’s demure posture. 

It was easy to forget that his younger sibling had never met the previous guardian, didn’t receive the gentle explanation of their roles that Dusk had gotten when he had awoken. Never received the reassurances of care and comfort that he had received from someone who knew what the world held, like he had, if only for a brief 3 hours.

~--------------------~

“Hmm. How odd it is, to be on this end of the lifetime.” a strange voice had rung out in his auditory senses. Dusk’s auditory senses. His name was Dusk. He knew that to be certain, though wasn’t sure why.

“C’mon on then Mini-Cosmo, open up those eyelights of yours and let’s see how you compare.” the voice said again, it was soft, fond, comforting.

Dusk opened his sockets, the eyelights(?) kicking on as if he’d been doing it forever. Patterns like breathing and thinking and language built into his skull, knowledge tucked away in the safety of his mind awaiting the wisdom to be able to apply it.

It was blurry at first, Dusk had to learn to blink in order to clear his vision before the soft orange blob in front of him materialized into a more solid vision.

An old skeleton, bones weathered by time and nature sat across from him, leaning against the tree of feelings (Oh, he knew what that was, it must be important. He knew it was important). The clothes the other wore matched his magic, soft hues of what Dusk would eventually come to know as the sky at sunset, and the soft golden crown upon his head looked like a star.

The stranger’s gaze was so fond, despite the wet trails down his face (Tear tracks, his mind helpfully supplied, though Dusk couldn’t fathom what they were for).

“Well well well, guess we all really are unique, aren’t we?” the stranger spoke again, breath wheezing through old ribs.

“Who are you?” Dusk had asked. The other felt important for some reason. (Brother, his mind again supplied, but for some reason Dusk couldn’t correlate that to the being that sat in front of him).

“Hmm. I don’t think my name’s going to be very important soon kid. I’ve got something better for you though. Would you like to hear a story?” the skeleton asked, patting the ground weakly beside him. It looked as though someone had already been sitting there previously. 

Dusk wondered where they went as he cuddled up beside the stranger, warm and safe.

Two and a half hours later, when the stranger finished telling him about the tree, the forest, his life, and his role, he faded away.

Thirty minutes later he had a brother.

~--------------------~

Dusk looked back at his brother again, expression soft and gentle as he tried to offer the same comfort he had felt once before, “Course he wasn’t Dawny, I was only playing.”

Dawn smiled a bit as he looked up, Dusk setting aside the finished basket of woven branches as he patted the ground next to him, “You know, he told me a story, I don’t think I told you this one yet…”

Dawn giggled as he eagerly cuddled up against his brother’s side, both their backs against the tree as the sunset painted the sky in red and golds.

[niemernuet]

Mentally I've been stuck here ever since I learnt that Dani had to babysit this ⬇️ Odi through his worst hangover during his very first wc finals in 2018:

The head coach is terrifying to approach at the best of times; today, in his current mood, he looks downright menacing as he drives past the entrance to the parking lot. Neither Daniel nor Justin are deterred though, and hurry across the uneven, icy ground as fast as they can. In their back, the long, drawn out lake lies grey and calm at the bottom of the valley.

They begin to talk at the same time.

“Excuse me, I think there has been a misunderstanding,” Daniel says.

“You can’t do this, Coach!” Justin says.

The coach, still half-way hunkered over as he is exiting the car, stops in his tracks, and glares at them. Both Daniel and Justin are wise enough to stop what they are saying. For a few heartbeats they are both quiet as the coach’s frightening glare rests on them. Daniel is the first to read his expression correctly.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” Justin adds quickly, and they both follow the coach as he walks towards the boot of the car.

“Hello, boys,” the coach rumbles. Justin’s mouth is wide open again, though this time, Daniel shoves his elbow in his friend’s ribs, and takes over.

“I’m sorry but I think there has been a misunderstanding with the allocation of the lodgings.”

“It’s the last race week of the season, you can’t do…” Justin begins but again is silenced with a well-placed elbow to the rib cage.

“I’m just not sure there’s a good reason for your decision…though we fully respect it,” Daniel hurries to add. “But we thought that maybe there are some improvements we could do…and it would be beneficial for the whole team. Also…”

The coach raises a finger, and Daniel stops mid-sentence. Again the coach glares at them for the fraction of a moment too long.

“You will not share an apartment,” he eventually says. Daniel and Justin sputter like stalling snowmobiles in his back while he pulls a suitcase out of the car, and puts it on the ground.

Once more he silences them with a raised finger. “Do you want to know the reason?”

“Yes!” they exclaim.

“You!” the coach says, and points his finger at Justin whose expression immediately turns to utter shock.

“What? I didn’t do anything!”

The coach laughs as he pulls out another suitcase. “But you did! Because of you and your idiotic post on smartbook I had to sit not in one but TWO meetings with our organisation’s president and someone from FIS.”

“It’s facebook,” Daniel says softly, his shoulders now slumped at the sudden realisation of their endeavour’s futility.

“Do you know how much I’ve had it with meetings? Up to here!” the coach barks at Justin, and draws a line across his forehead with his extended finger. “So no, you will not share an apartment this week. You received your flatmates, and I told the team everyone who swaps with you will walk to South America next summer.”

“This is retaliation!” Justin cries out.

The coach laughs, and closes the hatch of the car. “I guess you could say so, yes.”

Daniel grabs Justin by the shoulder, and with a little bit of struggling mangages to push him away. “I understand that must have been annoying but I don’t see how that is a reason to punish me for it.”

The coach locks the car, and grabs his suitcases. “You’re not being punished.”

“You put me in the apartment with the rookie!” Daniel almost shouts, his nerves getting more frazzled by the second  as he struggles to keep Justin back.

“This is so unfair!” he throws in over Daniel’s shoulder.

“Listen!” the coach barks, and both straighten their backs. Again the finger lands on Justin.

“I’m giving you a bit of friendly advice, because I’m your coach, and it’s my job: The next time you want to call out FIS’ marketing strategy, I want you to go to a home-trainer, and I want you to pedal until your tongue touches the ground. Because this will be a much smarter use of your energy than anything else you could do.” Justin throws up his hands but the finger wanders over to Daniel, and he gets no chance to rage further.

 “And you are not being punished. He’s a good kid, and I’m sure you will get along just fine. In fact, why don’t you go over and lend him a hand?” 

Daniel and Justin whirl around. They barely register the coach taking off at a brisk pace as they stare at the bus and Gisin that have arrived on the parking lot while they have been busy. 

“I’m sure you’ve already heard of Daniel and Justin from the slalom team. They’re…well, you’ll get used to them,” Marc says to the young man climbing out of the passenger side of the bus. “Laurel, Hardy, this is Marco.” 

Strands of blonde hair peek out from under Marco’s oversized hat and curl around his shoulder, and even though he is quite tall himself he is so lanky that he could disappear entirely behind Gisin’s large frame. He snorts at Marc’s last remark, and bites down on his lip. From the other side of the bus, their service man appears and opens the back.

“This is all your fault,” Daniel hisses to Justin, and walks over to Marco. “Hi, I’m Hardy.”

-----

Their lodgings take up an entire street of long barracks separated into units, a short stretch behind the main street, and just elevated enough to get a glimpse of the lake through the naked birches. Justin and Daniel take off with Marco’s baggage while Gisin keeps Marco back by the shoulder. They have reached the first doors already when he catches up with them.

“It’s all true,” Daniel says.

“What is?” Marco asks. He is skipping along, only a backpack and his jacket dangling from his arms.

“Any warnings he told you about us.”

Marco laughs. “No warnings, he told me the number of his and Beat’s apartments, in case it gets boring with you.”

“That’s even more insulting,” Daniel grumbles, and fishes the key out of his pocket. They shuffle through the door of the tiny apartment, and drop the bags in the small space between the kitchenette and the rickety table. With a sigh, Daniel turns around to face Justin.

“Is this because…” He breaks off when he realises where Marco is heading. “Excuse me, that one’s my room,” he says loudly.

“I thought so,” Marco says, his feet right at the edge of the threshold, and with slumped shoulders stares wistfully towards the window with the breathtaking view over the lake and mountains behind it. “Pity.” 

Daniel waits until he moves on towards the other room facing the back alley to turn back to Justin. “You don’t need to sulk because I said it’s your fault.”

“I am not sulking!” Justin exclaims. “Because it is not my fault!”

“I told you you’d just stir the pot without changing anything!”

“Someone had to finally say what a clown organisation FIS is!”

“Everyone knows that!” Daniel shouts from the other side of the table. They both pause in their yelling to stare at Marco coming back from his room. He shrugged out of the top layer of clothes, and his hair is standing up in all directions from the static of the hat’s synthetic fibers.

“Oh, don’t stop because of me,” he says, and grabs his bags by the handles. “I just need these here….thank you.”

“Yeah but nobody puts any pressure on,” Justin snaps as soon as Marco has disappeared.

Daniel shakes his head. “Is this still because of your DNF in…”

“IT IS NOT! Frankly, I don’t even know why you had to go and complain. Now the coach will…”

“I?” Daniel barks. “I had to go? I did this for us but okay, I guess you prefer Loïc’s company over mine then…”

“You did it because you didn’t want to bunk with the rookie,” Justin shoots back, and crosses his arms in front of his chest while Daniel furiously tries to shush him. An apologetic smile washes over his face when Marco’s head peeks around the corner of the hallway. He is topless now, and a towel is dangling from his shoulder.

“I didn’t say...it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Marco answers light-heartedly. “I’d much rather be with Thomi too, even though he sounds like a chainsaw when he sleeps on his back. At first I thought the coach hates me but now I’m glad to know it’s because of you.”

Daniel blinks. “Oh.”

Marco smiles at him. “Right. Hey, would you mind if I took some of your soap? I’d like to take a shower before dinner but I forgot it at home.”

“You forgot your soap at home?”

“Well…more like my toiletry bag,” Marco explains, and stares at Daniel with his big, brown eyes.

Daniel needs a few seconds before he can answer. “Sure,” he eventually manages.

“Cool, thanks,” Marco laughs, and disappears in the bathroom.

Daniel chuckles when he turns back to Justin. “This is so much worse than I thought. He’s like you! This week will be hell.”

-----

It is not easy to talk with a pair of lips on his own but Daniel is quite practiced.

“No!”

As if he could convince him if he just pressed against him harder, Justin wraps his arms tighter around Daniel’s neck, and kisses him with even more fervour.

“Please,” he begs in Daniel’s mouth, and grinds his hips against Daniel’s just hard enough to make the narrow bed squeak.

“Absolutely not…not when I’m bunking with the rookie.”

Justin whines, and shoves his tongue even further in Daniel’s mouth.

“He’s not here yet,” he mumbles.

Daniel snorts, and pulls his head slightly back. “He better come back soon, he has a race tomorrow.”

“He’s young,” Justin shrugs, and follows Daniel until his head bumps against the wall and he can no longer evade his kisses. “He’ll be fit enough. Please, Poulette…”

“M-mh,” Daniel answers, and shakes his head so that their lips lose contact. He drags his fingers through Justin’s hair, and smiles at him. “I’m sorry, not tonight.”

“We’ll be quick, come on…” Justin begs, and Daniel laughs again.

“I know you will be quick,” he teases, and silences Justin’s outrage with another kiss until he stops fighting, and melts against his chest. Just when Justin tries another angle by putting his hand over the bulge under Daniel’s sweatpants, something heavy crashes against the front door. At once they pull apart. The noise outside just barely reaches Daniel’s room at the other end of the apartment, separated by two doors and heavy insulation but they still hear the breathless, almost shrieking laughter.

“Jesus, are you alright?” Gino yells.

Again something heavy drops against the door. Justin lifts one leg, ready to slip off the bed but Daniel keeps him in place, and shakes his head.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Marco’s voice assures. 

“So…do you want to get up again?” Gino asks after a short moment of silence.

“Uh, yeah…as soon as I know which way is up.”

Again Gino’s laughter reverberates through the apartment.

“Silence!” Marco laughs. “I’m with Yule and he’s already sleeping.”

“Sleeping, right,” Gino grunts. “Which one’s your room?”  Something heavy moves over the floor, and then drops against the wall to Daniel’s room.

“Thank you,” Marco says. “This one there. And it’s true. I saw him leave earlier, so we really have to be quiet now or…”

The door springs open and with a loud bang slams against the wall. Light from the kitchen as well as Marco follow right behind, though Gino can catch him at the last moment before he faceplants to the ground again.

“Wait, no, that’s not my room, that’s…ohhh…” Marco’s voice dies down as he takes in the scene on the bed. Then, a big smile spreads over his flushed cheeks and the blonde hair clinging to it, and he waves enthusiastically at the people on the bed. “Hi Daniel, hi Justin!”

Justin chuckles, and waves back. “Hi, Marco.”

“I was twelfth in the downhill today!”

“We saw. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, let’s get you to your real room,” Gino presses through clenched teeth, and hoists Marco towards the hallway. “Sorry about that, guys.”

“No problem,” Justin says but neither of them is still listening as they shuffle off.

“Told you he’s sleeping alright,” Gino giggles, and another door gets slammed.

Justin chuckles, though he pauses when he looks down at his boyfriend and sees Daniel’s exasperation.

“Come on, he’s endearing,” he says, and kisses him.

“Annoyingly so,” Daniel snorts, and pushes against Justin’s shoulders.

“You used to love it when I did it,” Justin sighs but does not fight as he gets shoved off the bed.

Daniel grabs Justin’s jacket and throws it over his shoulders. “That’s because you used to be much more charming and sexy and handsome and overall breathtaking than him.”

Justin grins and leans in for another kiss. “Used to?”

Daniel smirks, and shoves him towards the door. “Good night, Honey Bear.”

-----

The slats of the bed are groaning almost as shameless as Daniel. His knuckles shine white as he clings to the headrest like a drowning man.

“Fuck, Justin…,” he moans, his legs twitching over the rumpled sheets. “Oh, fuck…”

Justin hums around Daniel’s cock in his mouth, and picks up the pace with his strokes. Daniel does not need more, and with a choked cry comes in spurts down Justin’s throat. He is still riding the wave down from the climax when Justin plops down next to him, and snuggles against his chest.

“See? I told you there’s enough time.”

Daniel laughs softly, still out of breath, and plants a kiss on Justin’s sweat-sheened forehead. 

“Okay, for once you were right.”

“M-hm,” Justin hums with a satisfied grin. For a few moments they lie together in silence before Justin pats Daniel’s chest, and sits up.

“You’re going already?”

Justin snorts, and grabs his trousers from the floor. “I only have the one back with me and I need it in two days…” He pauses, and checks the watch on his phone, “...no, tomorrow. I can’t share this cot with you tonight.”

Daniel sighs, and boxes the pillow under his head a few times. “This week sucks.”

Justin pulls his shirt over his head, and leans down for another kiss. “It’s almost over. Only two more nights with your new best friend.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “Considering the way he partied yesterday for a twelfth place I’m sure I won’t see him until we’re on the plane after today’s race. Tell Loïc my regards.”

“No, thanks,” Justin laughs, and softly shuts the door.

The party of the sponsor down in the village is still shooting rays of colourful light into the sky but Daniel is tired enough that he feels sleep crawl over him the moment he closes his eyes. He is almost entirely dozed off when his phone starts to vibrate again. For a second he considers ignoring it.

“Missing me already?” he mumbles as he puts it against his ear.

“Uh…no, sorry.”

Daniel shoots up. “Fuck…I mean, hi.”

Gino chuckles. Thumping bass music fills the background. “Hi. I’m just calling because I was afraid you wouldn’t see it if I wrote.”

“Okay?”

“It’s stupid but could you maybe check whether Marco’s already home? I was just on the toilet and when I came back they told me he left.”

Daniel silently throws up  his hands and rolls his eyes, though he cannot hide the drawn-out sigh when he answers. “Okay, fine. Though I’m pretty sure he’s not here ye…” He stops abruptly as the front door slams shut.

“What?” Gino asks in the growing silence. “Is he with you?”

“Oh no no no!” Daniel cries out at the terrible sounds coming from outside his bedroom. “I swear if you…” He pulls the door open, and stares at the scene unfolding in the small kitchenette.

“What? Daniel, what’s going on?” Gino yells through the phone.

“Everything’s okay,” Daniel sighs, and slumps against the door frame. “He’s not puking on the floor.”

“He’s puking?” Gino echoes, still loud enough that Daniel does not need his phone to hear him from the village square. 

He walks around the table, and steps to Marco who is hanging over the sink, and throws up another part of his dinner from earlier in the evening.

“Oh yeah, like mad,” Daniel chuckles. “But don’t worry, there can’t be much left inside of him.”

“Okay…” Gino answers, and hesitates for a second. “So…could you maybe…”

Daniel sighs again. “I’ll make sure he won’t asphyxiate on his own vomit…wouldn’t want to lose our junior world champion, right?” He pats Marco on the shoulder and elicits a soft whimper from him.

Whatever Gino says next drowns out in a new song and the DJ shouting, and Daniel takes it as cue to hang up. He leans over Marco’s hunched body, and turns on the faucet. While the ice cold water takes care of the worst mess, Daniel flips through the few cupboards until he finds a plastic mixing bowl. In the faint light from Daniel’s room shining into the rest of the apartment, Marco’s face and hair have the same grey colour. 

“If you feel like there’s something else you need to go over in your head, aim here!” Daniel says, and hands him the bowl.

“Thanks,” Marco mutters, and traipses off towards his bedroom. Daniel turns off the water, and follows him. He finds Marco laying on his stomach on his unmade bed, the plastic bowl next to his head.

“I will fucking delete Justin’s facebook profile,” Daniel mutters as he bends down, and pulls Marco’s shoes off his feet. He does not budge even a little, his breath coming slow and steady, and quietly Daniel slips out of his room. His feet have just warmed up again under the blanket of his own bed, when something heavy crashes from one end of the hallway to the other. With a heavy sigh he listens to the hollow, gurgling noises of Marco throwing up into the toilet. He stays put, and without realising that he has fallen asleep, jolts up a few minutes later when the same happens again. The third time he is wide awake, glaring into the darkness around him, too annoyed even to pick up his phone and write an accusing message for Justin to read in the morning. The fourth time Marco’s journey to the toilet wakes him up he notices that the lights of the party have stopped. The silence is heavier now, without the distant noise, and Daniel’s breath hitches when he hears something else between Marco’s retching. With a few whispered swear words he peels the toasty blanket back, and makes his way towards the only illuminated room in their apartment. The sharp, pungent smell of vomit hangs in the windowless bathroom, though luckily, Marco has managed to only stain the inside of the toilet bowl. Marco bites down on his lower lip when Daniel appears in the door but he cannot stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

“Is…everything alright?” Daniel asks even though the answer is apparent.

Marco shrugs, his cheek pressed against the cool porcelain of the toilet. He sniffles, and looks up at Daniel with red-rimmed eyes.

“Am I cool?”

Daniel’s brows fold into a frown as he tries to find something to say. “Like…right now?”

He cringes when Marco closes his eyes, and a new flood of tears rolls down his cheeks and into the matted strands of the hair clinging to them.

“I’m so stupid,” he chokes.

Daniel stares at him for a second before he turns on his heel, and hurries away. When he returns with a glass of water, Marco is still hunched against the toilet.

“Drink this!” Daniel orders. “And then tell me what’s going on.”

Marco takes a small sip. He stares at the ground, mute and deep in his thoughts.

Daniel keeps staring down at him until something occurs to him. “Is there a reason why you left the team at the party?”

Marco’s lip wobbles, and quickly he takes another sip. “I feel like I’ll never stop failing and I’ll never be as good as the others.”

Daniel rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “That’s because you’ve slept three of the last 48 hours and you’ve had two races in that time.”

Marco looks up, and blinks at him.

“Not to mention all the alcohol you’ve been putting away,” Daniel adds. “Well…temporarily, at least. Drink up, go to bed and I promise tomorrow everything will be different.”

He grabs the empty glass from Marco, and fills it again before digging a pill out of his almost depleted toiletry bag. Marco is already face-down on his bed again when he reaches his room.

“Do you think I could ever have the same that you have with Justin?” he mumbles from the depths of his pillow.

“Depends who you want to have it with,” Daniel answers, and puts the glass and the pill on the nightstand.

“Gino…” Marco sighs, and groans slightly as Daniel pulls the blanket out from under his body.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Daniel laughs. 

Marco lifts his head, and scans the room.

“Not now,” Daniel adds hastily. “Tomorrow, when you’ll be sober again…and maybe realise that you have terrible taste.”

Marco’s head drops back into his pillow, and he mumbles something inaudible.

Daniel throws the blanket over Marco’s limp body. “Take the pill here first thing in the morning,” he says, and points at the nightstand, but Marco has already fallen asleep.

“Rookies…” Daniel mutters, and quietly slips out of the room.

-----

The ending of the season two days later is sadder than anticipated, with two cancelled races and stormy weather. The teams disperse, washed away by the rain, and one after the other the rental busses stuffed with skis and other equipment leave for the airport. Daniel is checking the sidepocket of his backpack for his passport when Marco appears by his side. He huddles close to get under the open hatch of the bus. The hair poking out from underneath his hat is dark from the rain, almost as dark as the shadows under his eyes.

“Sorry you couldn’t race,” he begins.

“It’s just my luck,” Daniel says without interrupting his search. “One whole week with you and nothing to show for it. You look terrible by the way.”

“I feel terrible too,” Marco admits. “I think I’m dying.”

“It’s called a hangover. You’ll get over it. Okay, all there.” With a satisfied smile, Daniel closes the zipper of the backpack and puts it back with the rest of his baggage.

Marco shakes his head, and stares out into the rain. “I’m not sure…the only thing I know is that I’ll never drink again.”

Daniel laughs.

“Never ever! I don’t remember a thing from that night.” For a moment, Marco stares out into the rain before he dares to ask the question. “Did I say anything about Gino?”

Daniel frowns, thinks for a second. “Not that I remember, no. Why?”

Marco shakes his head. “Just because…not important.”

Before Daniel can prod further, Marco throws his arms around him.

“At first I really did not look forward to living with you but then it turned out to be quite cool. If you ever switch to giant slalom, I’d love to bunk with you during the season. But don’t tell Thomi.”

Daniel chuckles, and hugs Marco back. “And if you ever tried slalom I would gladly lend you my toothpaste and shampoo.”

Marco laughs, and skips back towards the bus where his service man is waiting. Justin rounds the corner, and joins Daniel under the hatch where they watch the other bus jolt over the gravel toward the road.

“He’s in love with Gino,” Daniel explains, and smiles at Marco who is frantically waving at them.

“Awww, Rookie,” Justin coos. “So endearing.”

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Of all Unburied Riddler lines one that always stayed with me was the moment in his interview with Barbara were he says "I'm a very good text taker, though". I don't know why. Maybe there's just someone on how Hasan says it. But stayed with me. And I'm not the best person to explain Unburied Riddler but maybe I'm the best to explain how he resonates with me. So this time instead of a silly edit, my propaganda for the @riddlersexymancompetition is going to be a long ass post about this sentence and how it resonates with me. And it has different parts.

• Part One: Defense Mechanism

The easier way to interpret this sentence is if we twist it to manipulation. Riddler is a good text taker because he can identify the answer other people want to hear and genuinaly express them no matter if he agrees with it or even if it's true.

Is the type of tecnique one developes with time and need and to imagine how and why he needed it is a fascinating rabbit hole. But no matter what it's a defense. Knowing what to say is how he gets Barbara to accept his help after all. A direct relation with the scene the sentence is in. He get's what he wants because he knows what to say and who to say it to. It can also explain why he took so long to trust Barbara with the truth - because he needed to access her to find the moment the truth would be safe, because he is used to it not being safe - or why he can easly know how to calm Bruce down. It is a skill and it did protect him.

It protected him more than he thinks.

Of all the rogues on his ward Edward is the only one who never had direct contact with Strange. All the others have horror stories or at least bad footnotes but Edward barely knows him. Strange is never mentioned as his psychiatrist or even as nothing more than "departament chief" by Eddie. And this is odd. During the time it was launching on Brazil one of the few youtubers that talked about it - the type who insisted it was about Gotham police and not the general system - even used this to theorize that Edward was involved somehow (because he loves to be wrong I suppose).

Edward never got in contact with Strange. Why would he? Strange only dealt personally with difficult cases - after all why would chief of psychiatry treat normal patients - and while he was a rogue, Edward was also a model patient. He was rude and mean and annoying but he always gave the right answers. And therefore Strange had no reason to treat him. Maybe he wanted to, maybe he didn't. But without even realizing Eddie turned himself untouchable by the head of psychiatry abuse and mal practice.

• Part Two: Identity Crisis

Unburied Edward cannot be defined more than by this two words. It is his center turmoil, his theme, in his core he is a man that has no clue who he is.

There is an unlimited number of points and analisys to be made here about mental health and race and existencialism. But this is a post about a sentence and therefore I'll talk about how this sentence fits these thematics.

I know one thing or two about being a "good text taker", I'm no Riddler, far from it but I understand something or other of mimicking others aspects and answering like I think they want to because it's easier and it gives me praise. But I don't do it often because I'm not always ready. Eddie is. All his lies make sense when he knows he will get away with it. That his answer is the perfect one. But when you mold yourself in being an enigma, in being exactally what everyone wants where does you end and the others begin?

• Part Three: Neurodiversity

Again this need to fit in by lying is not necessarialy an autistic behavior. It can be a result of a lot of factors. But as an autistic that was only diagnosed later in life this is what I can talk about in my reading.

Edward's hability was my dream as kid: to be abble to just read people into knowing exactally what they wanted no matter what because than I would stop failling, stop having to deal with the consequences of giving a "wrong" answer or do a stupid thing. And for someone who had to really learn this skill, who never had that and always wanted, will likely be dependant of it. Good text takers but confused people.

Because who they are becames secondary to the point they stop knowing allthogether. It's a dream becaming an existencial nightmare. And that's why Riddler's sentence resonates. The mix of sardonic desperation and total pride that it's present on this sentence. The way it's sayed as a brag but also as a plea. Barbara's response of this being the first true thing he said. His tendency to just say what he wants others to hear being the first thing he says without wanting to manipulate her somehow. Is genius.

That's to say I do read it as masking. Or at least as how I see masking, as answering questions not with the right answers but with the expected ones.

• Final Considerations:

Unburied does characther work like no other and Hasan deliever makes it real and full of unexpect, new and high emotions to the point I could write all this for a single line. It's an amazing show truly and completly and it's Riddler is part of it! Vote Unburied!

[m-jelly]

Could you do canon Levi x reader and she is in the scouts but also owns a bakery in town so every time she goes she’s brings back goods for everyone and brings Levi special lemon treats and herbal mixes? And maybe reader also get permission to bake in the kitchen for like a holiday and goes all out

So, I'm gonna have to adjust this one of how the reader is in the scouts because working in the military is a full-time thing. Which means the reader won't be able to do both. So, she won't be a soldier but their cook. Also, I wasn't sure if you want romance or the relationship status of Levi and reader?

@kenkopanda-art please go check out their page!

Delicious acts of kindness

Pairing: Levi x Reader.

Genre and tags: Canon AU, fluff, kindness, baker and cook reader.

Concept: Your days consist of getting up, and baking for your bakery before going to the scout base to make dinner. You are honoured that many scouts note they love your cooking the most, but are curious about your baking skills. You get permission from Erwin to bake a big batch of treats for the scouts as a winter treat.

Tag list: @levisbrat25 @ladycheesington @skittlelover69 @li-anne @strawberrybunny123 @nyxiieluna @galactict3a @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn

You adjusted the heavy basket on your arm and shifted it to your other arm. You huffed a little before gazing at the scout base. You smiled a little when you felt a bit excited to see everyone's faces when you gave them your treats.

You slipped down the main hall and lightly knocked on the Captain's door. You smiled at his grumbled response before stepping inside. "Afternoon, Captain. I have something for you."

Levi perked up a little. "Oh, yeah? Tch, what's it this time?"

You placed the basket on his desk and opened it up. "I have some delicious lemon and poppy seed muffins for you." You picked up the bound treats before placing them in front of him. "There's a few, so they should last you."

He pulled apart the fabric wrapping them up and smiled just a little. "Thank you. I appreciate it a lot." He picked up one and sniffed. "You always go out of your way to make me things."

You blushed a little. "Well, you don't like things being too sweet. It didn't seem fair that you missed out on the baked treats, right?"

He hummed in response. "I suppose."

You picked up the basket and shrugged. "Or maybe..." you walked to his door and finished your sentence before you lift "I did it because I like you more than a friend."

Levi's cheeks burned. "Huh?"

You winked at him. "See you later!" You closed his door and hurried to see Erwin. "Commander?"

Erwin let out a long sigh before addressing you. "Hello, good to see you." He smiled. "I needed a break, so thank you for the timing."

"I wanted to speak to you about my baking."

He leaned his cheek on his hand. "I enjoy buying your baked goods."

You grinned. "Thank you, but I need to talk to you about maybe baking for the scouts? I'll pay for the ingredients seeing as I run a bake shop, but I want to make something for the scouts with winter celebrations coming up. Please?"

He hummed in thought. "Sure, why not? The scouts could do with a little boost. Thank you."

You bowed to him. "No, thank you. I'll begin planning and I'll set it for the last day of December."

"Great."

You hurried to the kitchen and made dinner for the scouts. You smiled at Levi when you saw how flustered he was at seeing you again. He stammered a thank you and hovered around as if he wanted to say more, but instead rushed off before he could.

You would have little moments with Levi now and then because you made him aware of your feelings, and to you, it seemed he had some for you. You planned all the baked goods for the winter event and baked your heart out. You put some out on the tables and paused a moment when you saw Levi in nice causal clothes.

You moved over to him and smiled. "Captain?"

He blushed a little as he softly said your name. "Can I help?"

You nodded. "Sure." You led him to the back and gave him an apron. "I'll guide you." You gave him instructions and smiled as he worked. "Nice work. You're a natural." You placed your hand on his back making him shiver. "Don't worry about the mess, okay? It'll get cleaned."

He nodded shyly and continued. "This is fun, thanks."

You smiled and gave him your decorating things. "Thank you for joining me."

"I'm happy to help."

You made two cups of tea and had a little break with Levi. "So, how are you?"

Levi stared at you. "How am I?"

You frowned. "Yeah, why do you not get asked that?"

"No, no I don't." He gripped his cup. "I'm exhausted, worried, scared and hurting." He released a long sigh. "But I'll be okay."

You rubbed his back making him blush hard. "If you ever need to talk to someone, someone who isn't a scout really, then I'm always here for you. You can just let it all out and I won't judge."

He locked eyes with you. "Why do all this? Is it the same reason with the baked things? Do you feel more than friendship with me?"

You nodded. "I like you more than a friend. I would like more than friendship with you, but I also understand you might not hold romantic feelings for me and that's okay. I'm okay with being friends."

He gulped and moved closer to you. "And uh...what if I do? What if I do have romantic feelings for you?"

"That would make me happy." You linked your pinkie with his. "And I would ask you out on a date."

Levi smiled softly. "I would accept happily."

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Let's feed the scouts, yeah?"

Levi locked eyes with you as the scouts hurried into the hall and got excited over the baked things. He glanced down at your lips as his heart raced in his chest. He moved a little closer and held his breath.

You blushed. "Levi?"

He hummed. "May I kiss you?"

You nodded and shared a private first kiss with Levi behind the wall in the kitchen. You kissed over and over as the hall filled with the loud shouting and laughing of the scouts. Music filled the big room, but you and Levi continued to share a little moment together.

[yubellia]

Reborn as Lila Rossi: The Fox and the Caterpillar (Chapter one)

Hi Hi Hi! This took longer than I thought. I am back from my vacation and can use my laptop again. The teaser came from my phone. I just wanted to push that idea into the world. However, let's begin.

(think think think)

"bla bla bla"

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Lucia had a pretty shitty day. Her stepfather would divorce her mother. And to make it worse, they were also both fired from her job. Her dad really wanted to get rid of them. Was there a reason for that? No. Just the fact, that he did not want them anymore. Lucia just came from a big office building in her new hometown. She reported herself as jobles and got the paperwork to get money for her rent and all the important stuff.

She sat down on a bench after she realised that her bus would come in about 10 minutes. she did not even care that it is november and that the bench is cold like ice. Her pale hand pushed her brown and slightly curly hair from her face. (Ok. let's see. It's the end of the year. Pretty much no one is looking to fill positions, unles we talk about cleaning toilets and I am a 19 year old woman, fresh from college and little to no savings. To make it worse, I also can't rely on my mother. She lives in another town and also got fired.) Lucia stood up and took a few steps. "Can this get any worse?" Almost like it listened to her prayers, the bus she was waiting for drove up to her. Way to fast. Not that much of a surprise really. She herself almost slipped on the road this morning. Everything felt like it was slowed down but Lucia could not move. The bus could not stop in time and hit her.

Everything was dark. It felt like one of these dreams. You are close to waking up but you can‘t. Until your alarm finally sets you free. And that’s what happened.

An annoying ringing filled the room and Lucia opened her blurry eyes. She instantly found the phone and turned the alarm off. After she took a moment to stretch and wake up fully, she thought that she must be still dreaming. This room was not hers. There were masks hanging on the wall, next to her was a poster of a place in…. Italy? Maybe? And in another corner was a mirror with lamps and a desk with makeup.

„What the hell is….?“ she could not finish this sentence as she heard the voice of a woman calling…. Her? „Lila?! Are you up? Get ready! You don‘t want to be late for school right?“ that was not her name. But this name in combination with this room made a ton of sense. She rushed out of the bed in a panic and over to the mirror. „Yes… mom! I am up! Don’t worry!“ she looked at herself or rather the person she was supposed to be. There in the mirror was the face of Lila Rossi. One of the villains from this show called „miraculous“. Green eyes looked shocked into the mirror as ‚her mother‘ spoke again. „Ok good! I will be late tonight. There is food in the fridge and some lunch money on the table. Love you dear!“ the next thing she heard was a closing door. Lucia or now Lila looked at her phone to check the time. More than an hour left. Enough time to collect her thoughts. „ok. Relax! This has to be a mistake right? The last thing k remember is getting hit by a bus. And than….. nothing. So this has to be a coma dream or something. Worst case scenario would be, that this is my afterlife. A new chance as a villain that is supposed to fail. Great.“

She started to pick out some clothes and got dressed while she kept thinking. „Relax Lucia. This is not too bad! I mean, I know what is supposed to happen. I can make it better! Tell better lies! I don‘t have to fail. And besides, what’s the worst that could happen? If I really died, I can do whatever I want. And if not, then I will wake up sooner or later.“

By the time she was done getting dressed, she endet up in front of the mirror again and locked at herself. An idea formed in her head. „Ok I have to check this.“ Stepping closer to the mirror, she checked her eyes first. Only to find, that there are green contact lenses in them. „This girl slept with contact lenses…. Insane. Ok. The hair next.“ she carefully and slowly grabbed her hair and pulled at the bangs. They moved and the rest with it. „Aha! So it really was always a wig. That explains why she did not like sports very much. At least that’s what I found about her.“ inspecting her makeup further, she found the usual stuff like foundation and concealer. However, she also found fake tanning drops to mix into the daily skin care. This caught Lucia off guard. Before she could put too much thought into it though, her phone rang again, telling her that she should go to school. She fixed her wig, put the contact lenses back in and grabbed her bag before she left the house. Luckily she kind of knew where she had to go.

It did not take her too long to find her school. However, finding the teachers lounge where Miss Bustier would meet me, would be more difficult. (I hope I can handle this. My schooldays have been over for a while. Not to mention my puberty days… oh god please have mercy.)

She knew she found the right place when she saw a young lady with orange-red hair and a mostly white outfit, talking Marinette Dupain-Cheng. (Ok. Here we go. Lila could not know that but her biggest mistake was to make an enemy of Marinette. They say ‚keep your friends close and your enemies closer. So here goes nothing!)

She approached them slowly, trying to appear a bit unsure. „Miss Bustier?“ Both the teacher and Marinette turned around. Miss bustier‘s face brightened as she saw Lila. „Ah! Lila Rossi! Good morning. We just talked about you.“ she continued as Lila stepped closer. „This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Our class representative.“ She looked friendly as she greeted Marinette. „Hello Marinette. It’s nice to meet you.“ Miss Bustier took both of them with her to class. Lila tried to remember the way while Marinette talked. „It’s nice to meet you too Lila. Welcome to our school and our class. If you need anything, don‘t hesitate to ask ok? Talking about questions, may I ask if you are allergic to anything? I prepare cake and stuff for everyone’s birthdays.“ Lila thought for a moment. „No. nothing that I know of. I’m good.“ They reached the classroom and Marinette sat down while Lila stood next to Miss Bustier‘s desk. She took the moment to look around. She vaguely remembered everyone’s name. Not too bad. She is supposed to be new anyway.

„Alright everyone! Sit down! As you can see, we have a new student starting today. Why don‘t you introduce yourself?“

Looking back at her new class and putting her smile back on, Lila cleared her throat. „Good morning. My name is Lila Rossi. I pretty much just arrived in Paris. Originally I come from Florenz in Italy. It’s nice to meet all of you.“ After introducing herself, Miss Bustier told me her to sit next to Nathaniel.

During her introduction, she saw how Chloé rolled her eyes and smirked. She had a feeling that this meant trouble. But she made a good first impression on Marinette and that was important. After all, only Marinette was a real threat here.

Class was more or less boring. She was able to keep up with most of what Miss Bustier was saying. When she had the chance, she thought about what to do. (I just have to keep it simple. My mother works for the embassy and therefore had to move a lot. Sometimes. In rare cases. I managed to see someone important but I did not get too close. One or two charity events. Not bragging too much. Keep it plausible. As plausible as possible at least. Now, how do I get my hands on a miraculous? I could stay close to Marinette and hope that she gives me one. However, Lila appears at the end of season 1. it will take a while for Marinette to become the new guardian. Also, even if she decides to give me one, she will take it back. That’s not good. So….oh! That’s it!)

The rest of the day remains boring. It should be the day when Adrien finds the book about the miraculous from his father. She needs to get her hands on that. During the longer lunch break, she tries to approach Marinette and the group.

„Hi everyone! Marinette? You told me to ask if I need anything. I think I should copy some notes to catch up with you in some classes. Especially history. Could you or someone else here help me?“ Marinette started to take out some notes but Adrien interrupted her. „I could help you. I wanted to study in the library anyway. You can copy my notes if you want.“ Marinette gets her panicked look hearing that. I look at her and smile, trying to assure her that it is ok. „Sure. That would be very nice. Thank you. I promise I won‘t bother you for too long. I take some notes, need a little nudge in history and that’s that.“

Adrien leaves soon after that. I tell him that I follow soon. Before that however, I need to talk to Marinette. „Don‘t worry Marinette. I really just need some notes. I don‘t want anything from Adrien.“ Marinette looks shocked but Alya puts her arm around Marinettes shoulder. „It really must be obvious when Lila can see you crush despite only being here for a day.“ Marinette started to blush but before she could say something, Miss Bustier approached us. „Excuse me, Marinette? Alya? I don’t want to bother you outside of school or during breaks but could you help me please?“

Marinette did not really want to. She wanted to tell me something, stop me from spending time with Adrien or even follow us. She wanted to do something and I knew that.

I met Adrien in the library. We sat down and I start to take notes. Of course I noticed that Adrien did not have a history book but the one about the miraculous. I am very lucky that the events still take place as they should. I try to listen for noises to make sure Marinette is not here. After a while I speak up.

„Hey…. That doesn’t look like a school book.“ Adrien reacted normal for someone who got caught doing something forbidden. But he tried to hide it. „Oh! Yeah well, ok. Yeah, this book has nothing to do with school. But I can‘t read it at home so….“ I just nodded and looked at the book. "This looks a lot like these heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir." Adrien just nodded and did not stop me when i pulled the book over. I did notice how he smiled when i mentioned Ladybug. „Oh? Someone has a crush?“ Now he was really blushing. „Oh! Well…. She is just amazing…“

I flipped a few pages before I started talking again. „It must be a very tough job. I just heard a few things from my mom before we moved here. She really must be strong. They both must be strong if they can handle stuff like that every day.“ The alarm of Adrien’s phone started before he could answer anything. He jumped up and frantically started to pack his stuff. He also pulled the book about the miraculous over to his bag. I took a quick Look around but I couldn’t see tikki or Marinette. I stoped Adrien by pushing a few books of the table. While we both started to clean up, I pushed his book out of view.

He didn‘t notice it while he hurried out of the library and I did not ask him for a second meeting. I just thanked him for helping me before he left. After he was gone, I also left after putting the book into my own bag. (Sorry Adrien. But I really need this more than you. Also, your father should not have this.)

After I left the library, I kept my eyes open for Marinette. I had to make sure, she did not see how I took the book. After 10 minutes or so, I found her with Alya. I stayed out of sight and just listened. Marinette panicked because I could have flirted with Adrien but Alya seemed optimistic that I would not do that, while knowing how Marinette felt. It really sounded like they only talked about harmless stuff. If only Marinette knew. I am 19 for crying out loud. Yeah I have the body of a 14 to 15 year old teenager right now but still! Nope! Never! After convincing myself that Marinette didn‘t spy on me and didn‘t know about the book, I went home. There, I took out the book and started to take pictures with my phone. (Better be save than sorry.) after that, I took the time to actually look through my phone. I found notes about a room down close to the sewers. I also found tones of notes about lies and people I did not know. Knowing Lila though, they are probably people from her past. Good to know, that she wrote down the important stuff.

After taking and saving the pictures I took, I descided to get it over with.

———————————————————

Alright! Here it is! It is done! I hope you liked it. I try to hurry and write the next chapter. I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors. If I don‘t finish the next chapter before christmas, I hope you have a great time!

See you soon!

[strawberrystar7]

Yk Lila (is that even her name? Cerise? Whatever her name is I’m just going to be calling her Lila for simplicity) seems interesting to me. Why does she have at least 2 if not 3 different identities? How did she turn out this way? Why does she want the butterfly Miraculous? What is her plan going forward. What the heck did she see at the end of the season 5 final? She looked so scared. I hope we get some answers in season 6.

I have to be honest I don’t really like her as a person but as a character she’s very interesting. Similar to Chloé in a sense I guess but also different. I don’t really like Chloé as a person either but when it comes to her as a character I find her interesting. When it comes to Chloé she has both potential to be a villain but also potential to get a redemption if done right (well maybe not anymore after season 5 but up until season 4 final she had that chance). I like reading Chloé redemption fanfics because of it. Tho I don’t like the ones where the redemption takes place over only a span of a week since that seems unrealistic. For Chloé to change she needs first to learn that she can’t get everything she wants considering how spoiled she is that takes a significant amount of time to get into her head. And that’s just the bare minimum.

After that she needs to do some self reflecting. Why does she want to change? It’s not enough if she only wants to change because of the Bee Miraculous or because others tell her to. She needs to want to change from deep inside of her. The wish to change needs to come from her and not from others or from what they can give her. At the same time send her to therapy. This girl needs it. Only once she has begun to self reflect can the redemption actually begin. All of this is just the groundwork. The real redemption can only start now. This is also precisely why the presumed „redemption arc“ in the show has failed. None of this groundwork has been laid.

At least a few months would have gone by by the time all of this has happened. That’s why just a few weeks or even worse only a week are unrealistic in redemption fics. No one works through their issues in such a short time especially not if they are as deeply rooted as Chloé’s. Oftentimes it feels forced because people just make Adrien, Marinette or one of their classmates tell Chloé that her actions are wrong and she suddenly has a change of heart. Like no that is not how this would actually work. Just because someone tells Chloé that it’s wrong doesn’t mean that she suddenly would change. This would take far longer than just 1 sentence. It would take therapy and self reflection and the realization that she can’t just have everything

Then there’s the possibility for Chloé being a villain and not just a flat one dimensional villain. We actually know why she is the way she is. It gives her a motive.

Anyway I swerved off topic. This was supposed to be about Lila and not Chloé. If you want to read more on my thoughts on Chloé you can read my post on Chloé’s role in the season 3 finale. It’s a bit outdated since it was written during the run of season 4 but it still matches mostly with my thoughts today. Either way Lila is interesting in a different way. I don’t think she has the same potential for redemption as Chloé has but she seems like she could be a great villain. She is cunning and manipulative. She is also very mysterious, which allows for speculation. We don’t know anything about her. We don’t know who her actual parents are, we don’t even know if she’s actually Italian and we don’t even know what her real name is.

Not gonna lie it came as a shock to know that she lied about her real identity. But now that I think about it maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked. Thomas Astruc has been alluding to the fact that Lila is lying about her identity. If I recall correctly he had posted a tweet talking about how Lila is a Liar and that we shouldn’t believe anything she says and she could be lying about being italian or something along those lines. I can’t find the tweet, maybe he deleted it, so sorry I can’t provide a screenshot but when trying to find it I saw other people talking about the same tweet. Either way that’s not even the main point of this post. (A Tweet? An X? Twitter was renamed to X so no way the posts there are still called Tweets so what even are the posts on X called? X is such a weird name change.)

Lila is cunning, manipulative, a liar and very mysterious. It makes her interesting to me and I do hope we get some semblance of a backstory for her in season 6 as well as some answers to those questions I stated above. I mean don’t get me wrong it’s fun to speculate but it’s also nice to have some confirmation on what actually happened and to add onto that canon framework. That way it’s easier to get an actual grasp onto what she’s like and why she’s this way. Similar to my posts with Chloé. They are built on the canon framework of Chloé’s backstory and current life but they also allow for analysis which isn’t exactly possible if you know nothing about a character (at least from the time when they were posted so not including season 5 since those posts were made 2 years ago.). In Chloé‘s case you can analyze her character arc as well as add onto her canon framework. But in Lila‘s case you can only speculate. And like I said speculation is fun and I‘ll probably take advantage of it until season 6 airs but it’s also nice to analyze the canon framework and add onto it. Both are nice in their own way I guess.

Not gonna lie when Lila first entered the show in the Season 1 Final I thought she was going to be a girl who lied because she wanted friends. Because she felt lonely and thought lying was her only possible way of making friends especially since some of her classmates are famous like Adrien Agreste, a world famous model, Chloé Bourgeois, the mayors daughter, and Alya Césaire, the Ladyblogger. I thought that she would resent Ladybug in the beginning but eventually would get over it and that Marinette would try to befriend Lila because she felt bad for blowing up on Lila as Ladybug. But then Lila disappeared in season 2 only to reappear in the season 2 finale to create the illusion, and then season 3 happened which changed my opinion on Lila once and for all. But even then I didn’t expect Lila to aim for the Butterfly Miraculous or that her lying went so far as to the fact that she had multiple sets pf parents, lied to all of them and that she even had multiple sets of identities. What kind of teenager even does that and why does she even need multiple identities?

Either way should that happen and they do elaborate on Lila‘s backstory I‘ll probably be back after season 6 trying to analyze Lila‘s character. It’s been a long time since I analyzed or theorized about Miraculous and if anything I would be interested in doing it with Lila but for that I don’t have enough information on her right now. In the meantime I‘ll be speculating about who she is and why she is like that. Who knows maybe I‘ll post some of those speculations on this Tumblr page, maybe I don’t. It depends on how I feel.

[alwek]

Spiders In My Head: what to call it

I've been wanting to do these weekly ramble things more often. I tire of being beholden to the one format of "this started to document my transition" style, and more into train of thought, autobiographical type thing.

Of course, that means changing the name of it to something else. But what? I imagine you know, person maybe reading this, what I've called it. I still have to have the thought.

I fancy myself a philosopher, you see. I used to hate the idea of being something so pretentious, but I saw a three panel comic one day that completely changed my mind on it. In what could barely be called two sentences, and a visual gag, I was taught that philosophy is so much more than pretentious dick fucks arguing about who deserves to live and die.

A few years ago we got it in our head that maybe our thoughts are worth saying. Maybe we could write some kind of book thing that teaches... something. I don't know. What I think life is, I suppose?

In the summer of 2020 i was hospitalized after a mental breakdown. I was under watch for half a year, and came out with a DID diagnosis and a monthly check for being disabled enough (because it's a competition). I met lively, and lovely people there. People with struggles like me. Before one guy that I hung out with most days was discharged, he gave me a plant, in a shitty little hospital bowl that was full of water. I took dirt from the tree in the common room, and let it root.

It nearly died a few times in the months since, from my own neglect. Her leaves left dull and droopy most days, reflecting the vibes of her terrible caretaker. She clearly hated her old bowl now. I got a new pot. I replanted her at my partners house, which I find sort of fitting. We had a very off and on relationship for our early days. Things got steadier around that time.

Charlotte, the plant, started doing better after. Granted, I also started watering her more, and put plant food in the dirt after it got stale. She became so dark, so happy looking. My happy little spider plant.

I used to get small bugs in my room a lot. The door to the room I sleep in leads directly outside, so it was a daily occurrence having to get flys, and months, and beetles, and spider (black widows get smushed) out. I got fed up with it after a while and decided the spiders could stay, thinking maybe they'd eat the more annoying to deal with insects. And well, it worked.

I let certain corners of my room be spider homes now, and I've had less bug bites in my sleep since. Less bugs noticably in my room in general. I even saw a cutie lil jumping spider in Charlotte a couple times.

That made me think "i wish the spiders could eat the bugs in my brain. They deal with the outside ones so good, why can't they eat the brain bugs"

And so, maybe I lied in the beginning when I said you'd know the title of this little rebrand before me. This whole project, i guess you could call it, of mine is my way of trying to get spiders to eat my brain bugs. So I decided before I even started writing this, I'm calling it

Spiders In My Head

(No relation to cage the elephant)

Maybe someone will listen, maybe nobody ever will. But talking to the nothingness helps too. Doing it here, for me, for us. It helps.

[[Abreviated tag for these posts is SIMH]]

[palaeophilist]

a letter to the unnameable you

Sometimes I like to write letters and not send them.

It helps to imagine a specific “you” to whom I relay some sweet detail about my day or my thoughts or my life in general. I like the way it filters my thoughts, and I think I also like the fantasy of connection sometimes just as well as I like actually connecting. Just now, as I sit on the patio where she has never sat and likely never will, I thought about writing to her — telling her the things that I will likely never tell her in reality. Twice this summer I reached out, and while she responded, she didn’t respond, you know? I imagine that she is, as she always was, in survival mode, and I happen to know the warrior woman who directs her movements when she’s in that mode, and therefore I shouldn’t take it personally, but it’s hard not to personally feel like my friendship to her didn’t matter, even though I know cognitively that it did.

That’s how it goes, though, sometimes, isn’t it? We love the people we love, and we lose them all the time. We lose them when they move away. We lose them when they get lost inside of themselves. We lose them when they adopt new identities — mother, girlfriend, soldier. We lose them to the ether, or to heaven, or to wherever our spirits go when we die.

In the four months since Scott passed, I wrote him two emails. Especially in the days after his death, he felt so present. The second time I wrote to him, he felt much less so, and even though I told LICM we’d have no regrets, I have a few. I can live with them, so I don’t want to pretend they aren’t there. Whether or not I did the best I could or thought there would be more time, the fact of the matter is the last time we were together, I didn’t even hug him goodbye.

But I suppose “lasts” and “firsts” are much less important that all that lies between. One of my friends recently moved her parenting schedule towards a 50-50 thing, and she wrote about that on a post at the beginning of the school year. She missed the first day of school this year, which was so uncommon for her as a mother, but even as she grieved the loss, she acknowledged that she’d be there for the second, and for so many other moments that aren’t typically picture-worthy or bragged about on social media. I loved that way to frame it. And I still think about something a friend told me a couple years ago: there’s never enough time with the people that we love, which consequently means, "not enough" is the wrong thing to focus on.

When we remember what we had, when we set out our actualities like little mementos on a shelf, we can hold all of it. Each memory can bring, perhaps in turn and perhaps simultaneously, depth and intrigue or drama and joy, can bring the flavor and textures that make up a life, which is maybe all we really have at the end of it all. 

Today I didn’t write a letter to anyone. I didn’t ache for the confrontation of writing to KDT, or the particular ways that I let sentences run on and provide all the necessary context for AH. I didn’t invite the melancholy of writing to ST, whose email account will one day reject my offerings and it will break my heart a little. Instead, I guess, I wrote to myself? But also the invisible and unnameable You, for whatever it is ever worth.

Meanwhile, downstairs, the boys crash their scooters onto the grass again and again. The neighbor takes his clothes out of the dryer. They all get into a kerfuffle with Calvin’s scooter (a conflict which ultimately led to an intervention and an apology, which still counts even if it was explained by “My mom told me to”). Meanwhile, the world turns. The sun shifts its position in the visible sky. It is time for the business of living again. The spaghetti noodles await. 

[barbaramoorersm]

October 30, 2022

October 30, 2022

Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

Book of Wisdom 11:22-12:2

The text speaks of the actions and power of God.

 Psalm 145

The Psalmist shares the wonderful works of God.

 2nd Thessalonians

The author advises the listeners not to be shaken by rumors.

 Luke 19:1-10

The Gospel shares the well-known story of Zacchaeus.

 Again, Luke’s Gospel shares a story about extremes. A short man climbs a tall tree; a hated, wealthy tax collector and a traveling preacher advising his followers to simplify their lives; a religious leader eating with a “sinner.”  The contrasts are so obvious.  Zacchaeus climbs a tree to observe.  Perhaps he was alerted to Jesus’ presence because of the gathering crowd and maybe the crowd told Jesus to look up and see Zacchaeus. Another extreme lies in the meaning of the name Zacchaeus.  He is considered a sinner because he is a tax collector but his name in Hebrew means “clean” and “innocent.”

Jesus is entering Jericho on his way to Jerusalem and this is important.  This city is a trading center for goods coming from the east and the connections with the tax collector are evident.  Folks saw the tax collectors of the world as tools of Rome. Collecting taxes and perhaps skimming off the top for their own advantage as well as being money lenders and speculators. All these realities made them disliked, not trusted and feared.

Jesus’ next move must have surprised everyone. “Come down quickly for I must stay at your house.”   Remember, Jesus usually traveled with company so his request created the possibility of additional mouths to feed.  The crowd had already labeled the tax collector and made a judgment. “He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner”.   When folks said, “He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner”, they may have imagined that it would be a longer visit than a meal. Jesus’ request to dine with Zacchaeus violates so many customs. He has indicated his willingness to break some norms to be with those often considered sinners or ritually impure.

But our short fellow, stands his ground and announces what seems to be a change in his behavior.  His decision is very significant. “Half of my possessions I shall give to the poor”, and restitution to anyone he extorted.  Was this change in behavior already on his mind or was it the request of Jesus that moves his heart to change?  We will never know but it must have impacted the crowd.  An extorted person in the crowd is given hope or a poor family wonders if he is thinking of them when he does give half of his possessions away.  We do not know the end of the story.  But Jesus seems to know it when he says, contrary to the crowd’s assessment, “Today, salvation has come to this house”.

Who are the men and women today who are hated, questioned, and avoided if possible?  People like our tax collector of the first century. It could be a neighbor, a member of our own family or a person of different political views or race.  In our Rochester community, for many, our electric company falls into this category. Campaign adds often reflect distortions of a candidates’ record or outright lies. Unsuspecting folks fall for requests for dollars and recently a religious leader in our nation is accused of misusing close to a million dollars of a congregation’s money.  

What brought about the change in Zacchaeus’ behavior?  We will never fully know.  Was it the request to come to his own home?  Was it because he was called by his own name?  Had the tax collector come on purpose to see and hear Jesus?  And we might also ask, did Zacchaeus follow through on his promises?  And did his community begin to see him in a new light?

It is amazing to reflect on the fact that one sentence uttered by Jesus set this whole process in motion.  “Zacchaeus, come down quickly…”.   This reality makes me think about the power of one or a few words. Words can bring life and they also can “kill” the heart and spirit of another.  We see this reality in this encounter.  But the most powerful nonjudgmental words Jesus speaks today are so important.  He takes Zacchaeus’ intentions at their face value and declares, “Today salvation has come to this house….”

 This story has many layers to it.  We may miss this one.  If Jesus’ company all came to Zacchaeus’ home, what a crowd!  And if there was a Mrs. Zacchaeus, I hope she had help as she did the dishes.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.” 

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

~

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing. 

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man. 

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

~

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding. 

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

~

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner. 

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

~

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip. 

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

~

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

White lies.

When - after Otis’ memorial/funeral, so we’re still in S02E03 Cherokee Rose. This chapter is maybe an hour after Yesterday was rough. Shane’s descent has begun picking up pace ever so slightly.

Relationships - #DarylDixonGetsAHug. We have our sibling relationship with Shane, our slow-burning-y’all-get-hitched-down-the-road Daryl x you building that good foundation, we got Papa Dale in the house, and we have our platonic Glenn x you. Rest assured, you tease him about Maggie.

Perspective - 2nd person

Pronouns - who?

Genre - trail mix

TWs - some language and stress

Plot points/references - eh, it’s been a long week, I’m tired y’all, just give this here a once-over and you should be good :P

You knew your brother didn’t want to. You’d told him, you told him he didn’t have to. “Shane, you can tell her later, with more privacy,” you’d whispered to him.

“It’s okay,” he’d stammered back under his breath.

So, he does this thing with his head when he is at a loss for words: looks up and down, but doesn’t look at anyone or anything in particular for more than a second. Gets jumpy, needs to move. His sentences aren’t always complete or ordered correctly. He’d fluff his hair, too, if he had any left to fluff.

And you’d never seen Shane struggle so much to speak as at that memorial service, not even those few months ago when he’d struggled to tell you how he found your older sister’s and her partner’s bodies dead after the world started unraveling.

The entire group, only minus T-Dog who was with Carl, had been staring at him in expectant silence after Patricia begged him through her tears to tell her what happened. She wanted to know if Otis’ death had meaning.

The unkind, overtired, and lacking-patience part of you couldn’t help but wonder why it wasn’t clear already that her husband, may he rest in paradise, had just devoted his last hours saving a child’s life.

“We were about done,” your brother strained to get out. “Almost outta ammo, we were down to pistols by then.” He made a strange attempt at a smile in an effort to make it more bearable. “I was limpin’, it was bad. Ankle all swollen up.”

And up until that point, you believed every word Shane said. You knew they were honest. But something about the way he was speaking...God forgive you, but it changed, okay?

You gazed up at him when you heard the difference. Red flag, red flag, red flag started flitting through your mind. You felt chilled. You felt sick. You felt scared.

Shane even looked different as he kept speaking, telling that little story of how Otis sacrificed himself.

Now, it’s not that—you don’t doubt Otis did so. What little interaction you had with him, and how his family so readily accepted what your brother told them, only lent credibility to his goodness and his selflessness.

But God forgive you, but almost every other word that came out of your brother’s mouth during that service you hated because you couldn’t believe them. It felt like a lie—no, you know it was because you know what Shane lying looks and sounds like. You’ve seen it.

But why would he have been lying is the question.

Exactly, he wouldn’t!

What kind of awful, selfish person are you for thinking such awful, selfish, ludicrous things at a time like that, huh?

Unless...okay, this is what must’ve happened: Shane told a better story than what actually happened for the benefit of Otis’ grieving widow, son, and friends.

Yeah. Shane had to do stuff like that before, he and Rick both in their line of work. Which must also be why Rick was frowning like that at him, too, during the service; Rick understood.

When somebody dies poorly, you don’t tell the family that. You tell the family white lies.

You say the person died comfortably, or at least quickly, and always with dignity. It’s simply what’s done. You stick as close to the truth as possible, like you knew Shane had at the beginning and the end of the story. But in the middle, one needs to smooth it over and sugarcoat the truth for the sake of the family, just like when you saw Shane spinning that yarn.

Yeah. That’s what happened. That’s why Shane lied, is all. He’s traumatized and laden with survivor’s guilt, it’s not that deep, he’s not maliciously hiding anything, you remind yourself. It was just a white lie.

And white lies are different, like how Rick told Carl that Sophia was ‘just fine.’ They’re the only kind of lie with which you’ll readily participate, but even then...

“Kiddo, everything okay?”

“Dale, hey, um, y-yeah, I’m peachy. Tired,” you brush off, pulling out your earbuds and putting on a cheerful face as you turn off the mp3 player. Thank you, Dale, for snapping me out of that thought-spiral. With a shrug, you repeat “Yesterday was rough.”

“I know that with your current crop of injuries—”

You snort at the phrasing of that.

He shakes his head and grins. “I know they won’t let you go on that pharmacy run with Glenn and the young lady.”

Grumbling slightly, you mention “And Daryl won’t let me go search by the creek with him.” Not after he found out about the stitches. So dumb...

When Rick heard that Margaret was going to the local drug store for a supply run, he’d offered to Hershel that Glenn and you were their ‘go-to-town experts.’ However, he was also very quick to correct himself about how you were in no shape to go at the moment.

Right, that reminds you: “Oh, and I need to finish that list, Glenn asked me to do him a list of supplies to look for. What meds or things have you been without, Mr. H?”

He considers for a moment. “Statins are generally good for people of my age, though I must say: physically, I feel much better than I did before civilization collapsed.” Somewhat teasing, he reminds you “But, perhaps some surgical tape so I can have my extra roll of electrical tape back.”

“Ah, I knew you’d remember what I couldn’t.” You’ll add that to the list. Statins and surgical tape. Magnesium, disinfectant, antibiotics, probiotics for T-Dog and Carl because they’re both on doxycycline and strong antibiotics like that mess up your gut, antivirals if they miraculously found any, allergy meds, pain management, triptans, gauze and bandages, a pulmonary expectorant, fiber supplements, activated charcoal, adrenaline/epinephrine pens, the usual things like sunblock and bug spray, period supplies (even though cycles have been all over the place), clean socks and undergarments, maybe some nicotine gum for Daryl...oh, of course, more batteries...calamine lotion...

“So, are you heading with your brother back to the highway?” you hear Dale ask you. You turn to look at him as he hints “Or are the doctor and he insisting that you stay put, I hope?”

Duly noted, Papa Dale. Still, you pause and try to avoid a concrete answer. Arm in a sling and stitches in your abdomen notwithstanding, you feel too uneasy to stay in one place. “Maybe, um, I might need to stay here to keep tabs on Carl. Teddy may go with him, I asked him if he would a little earlier.”

Then you realize it. “Never mind, maybe I should go with Shane, I don’t want to be the one to tell Carl that Sophia ain’t back yet. That little punk knows I’m bad at lying, and that I don’t like it, besides.” And you don’t want to leave Shane alone, but that’s neither here nor there. You sigh. “The little man’s gonna push the question about why he can’t see her yet and I can only tell white lies or avoid answerin’ for so long.”

“His parents will handle things,” he assures you. But there’s too long a moment of hesitation before he remembers, “If, if Sophia didn’t make her way back to the highway, or, or is found elsewhere.”

So Dale is on the other page now, too. It’s been almost 72 hours that she’s been missing, but everybody seems to have already...fuck it, whatever. They can think what they want.

Earlier, Shane even wanted to discuss what they’d do if they found her bitten.

Yeah, that topic gave you all points with the Greenes. Not. Ugh, the shame you felt at seeing Maggie’s and Hershel’s horrified look with each other as they shook their heads in disgust, along with Beth’s confused and disbelieving glance. Small favors Carol wasn’t in earshot.

But hey, at least Daryl is still hopeful and hell-bent on looking for her. He’s the most likely to track her down, anyway, so you’ll count that as a win.

“Well, I’m going to be keeping watch duty. Seems like my official post,” Dale continued as you two slowly headed to the RV.

“That reminds me, here.” You remove the watch he’d lent you and hand it over. “Thank you. It was a godsend.” How many times you’d checked Carl’s pulse and respiratory rate with it, you can’t count. “And I think I got all the, um, uh, blood off it,” you add under your breath. With an awkward chuckle, you then (morbidly) comment, “Thank goodness it’s splash-proof.”

Bless Dale’s heart, he barely widens his eyes, instead nodding thoughtfully. “I’m glad it was such a help.” A grin and a nod of his head toward the RV. “Sometimes, I feel like a rotisserie chicken when I’m on top of the darn thing, slowly roasting and sweating in the heat for hours on end.”

Your smile finally relaxes and becomes genuine. “I don’t envy you that.”

Well, until Dale frowns and worries “Kiddo, are you sure you feel alright?” and you throw back at him “I’m just tired!”

Oops.

Hand covering your face, you apologize “Oh Moses, that came out very, uh, snappy. I’m sorry.”

Still frowning, Dale quickly softens his expression. Then, delicate as always, suggests “Maybe staying here is best, in that case. Perhaps taking a rest? I don’t imagine you slept much last night or the night previous.” He gestures to the RV door.

Yes, dad. “Why are you so kind, Mr. Horvath?” you ask, slowly trudging up the stairs. “And so patient, like, how do you do that? Sometimes, I swear, I snap like I get commission for it.”

“Would you prefer the alternative?” he teases. “I can behave rudely.”

Annnd he’s made you smile again.“Hmph, well now you’re bein’ kinda sassy.”

“Come on, troublemaker, I’ll help you set up your tent. It’ll be a lot cooler than in here, come to think of it.”

“Did I tell you I loved you yet today, Dale?—Oh, wait up Daryl!” You hop down the RV steps (OW, what the fuck, why did you do that when you have stitches? You can be such an idiot, ouchhhh) and reach into your sling (hey, it makes a great pocket) to jog over and give him your green camo walkie.

He stares. “Was jumping off there the best idea, Y/N?”

“It was the very best,” you monotone. Shit, did that hurt. You hold up the walkie to him. “Please take this with you.”

He adjusts his grip on his crossbow. “Ain’t the batteries shot?”

“Beth gave—the teenage girl who lives here—gave us four AAs, enough for two of them.”

“Why bother?”

You rein in the urge to roll your eyes. “Your safety.” Your voice still betrays your mild irritation, however. You cannot help but adore that mangy hick now, but those rough edges of his don’t suddenly not scrape. “Plus, Carl is gonna ask to talk to Sophia with them. You havin’ the other makes an honest excuse why he can’t.”

“When’s he gonna be awake?”

“...He’s on pretty strong pain meds right now, he might could be sleeping most of the day, but...”

He takes the walkie from your hand and pockets it. “Let’s keep them off though, yeah?”

You nod in agreement, but worry, “What if you have an emergency?”

“I won’t.”

Dale’s coming down the stairs with your tent bag interrupts any would-be huffing from you. “You’re off, Daryl?”

Ah, it’d been too long since you’d heard that grunt/hum thing Daryl does in response to things.

Dale rubs the back of his neck as he steps down to the ground. “Alone?”

“Like I just told Rick, I’m better on my own. I’ll be back before dark,” is Daryl’s curt reply, and...no, it’s okay. You shouldn’t take that personally, why are you taking it personally? It’s Daryl, he’s crass.

Sure, he taught you to track and enlisted your help out there in times past, but for many things, they are infinitely easier when done solo. It’s not a big deal. You feeling slighted about him pointing that out is an overreaction, you’re just tired, and, and—ugh, now you’re welling up? Great.

“Well, be careful out there, son,” Dale bids him, eyeing you and your pretend yawn that will provide explanation for your wet eyes. He lifts the tent bag. “I’m gonna put this under that grove over there, looks like a nice spot.”

“Thank you, Dale, I’m right behind you.” As he walks away, you gesture to the yellow walkie you’re holding onto and tell Daryl “This’ll be on so you can reach us, if you stay within three miles. Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

“Rest up, just don’t—” He stops you from walking away. “Don’t mess yourself up anymore, okay?” He shrugs. “And, alone is easier, but I didn’t mean to...be a dick or nothin’.”

“I didn’t take it personally, man.”

He does his hum/grunt thing again.

“Okay, might could’ve taken it very personally,” you admit. “At least you’re always honest, I like that about you. Do you even tell white lies?” You join him in walking toward his bike.

“I don’t like lyin’, I guess. I don’t see the point. Well, I mean I see the point, but I don’t...whatever, what are ‘white’ lies, again?”

“When a person don’t—sorry—doesn’t tell the truth in order to give somebody comfort or to keep them from bein’ hurt. They’re supposed to only be told about littler things, but.”

He straddles the bike. “So, how you told me you didn’t take that thing I said personal.”

You snort, nodding your head. “I reckon that was a white lie, wasn’t it?”

“When we had that fight in the truck and pulled over, and you said it was because we almost hit a fox?”

“I’d forgotten all about that. I ain’t sure if that was outright or white to be honest.”

“And when the kid’s parent’s told him Sophia’s back, that was a white lie.”

“Y-yeah.” What Rick and Lori did for Carl. What Shane did for Patricia and Jimmy and the Greenes. Right? Just white lies. Nothing else.

There’s a pause, and you were about to wish him safe on his search again before heading to the area Dale is helping set the tent up.

But Daryl states simply that “Guess I’ll have to bring her on back, then. That way we won’t have to lie to the kid.” And it’s just so...it doesn’t seem like a put-on, is all you’re saying. Say what you want about him, but that man is always truthful in terms of his thoughts and intentions.

An overwhelming urge to throw your arms around him again hits you like a truck. “Careful there, Dary-bear, you’re fixing to be my favorite person.” Even with that nasty symbol on his brother’s bike. Oh, good idea, you’ll put spray paint on the supply run list. “Hey, and Beth—she’s the teenage g—”

“—‘The teenage girl,’ you told me.”

“Beth’s making Carl chocolate pudding. So,” you drawl, feeling lighter and hopeful again. “Let Soph know when you find her that homemade pudding is waitin’ for her. Maybe not as good as her mama’s, but...” You smile.

And miraculously, so is he. Sort of, anyway. “Pudding sounds damn good, actually.”

“Eh, maybe I’ll sneak you a cupful. Hey, Glenn’s off on a run soon, are there any supplies you can remember us needin’?”

“Could always use more smokes.”

NO. “Sorry, the pharmacy don’t sell those or alcohol.”

“Shit.”

Don’t lie to him, Y/N. “Sorry, I just made that up. They probably have some, I just don’t want you dying of cancer.”

He scoffs and mutters “That was another white lie, then?”

“Might could’ve been.” You shuffle your feet. “You must get annoyed when people worry about that habit?”

“Yeah, I ‘might could.’”

Your lips twist to one side. “Don’t poke fun at my double modals,” you chide, nudging him gently.

A natural lag in conversation seems to indicate it’s time to part ways. “Alright, man, don’t die, don’t get bit. We’ll see you two later.”

But again, he stops you gently with his hand, even though he’s already started his bike and pressed the kickstand up. “Make sure you rest up, for real. It’s just—you don’t need to be the only one babysittin’ your brother or the kid, okay?”

“Ain’t no shame in them needing help.”

“Ain’t no shame in you needing rest, neither. They ain’t gonna kick you out ’cause you got hurt and need to take it easy for a while.”

To which you cannot help but request “Daryl, may I hug you again?”

He blinks. “Now?”

“Yeah. Everybody is gonna be linin’ up to do it once you bring back our girl, might as well get me some hugs in ahead of the game.”

He doesn’t move off the bike. “You really think she’ll be found?”

“You don’t?” Brows lowering, you cross your arms by tucking your free arm around your sling.

“Nah, I know she is.”

“Well, good, so do I.”

He’s squinting at you…and keeps squinting at you. So, you frown and stare back.

“You ain’t lying.” A statement, not a question.

“No.”

“And not a white lie.”

You shake your head. “No.”

He continues to stare—then abruptly pushes the kickstand down, swoops his leg off his bike, makes the briefest of glances around, and before-you-know-it, you’re pulled in for a surprisingly solid hug. His hold is stiff, maybe, but genuine. Around your injured shoulder and side, his embrace is gentler, you notice.

The man smells like cigarettes, sweat, and gasoline. His skin is covered in grime and dried salt, his clothing filthy. And you find you don’t care a hoot.

When you sense his grip begin to loosen, you pull away at the same time he does. With a mildly awkward pat on your arm (he did that earlier, too, it’s kind of endearing), he avoids all eye contact and casually hops back on his bike. And just like that, he’s off.

From behind, you hear “Hey dude, you got that list?”

“Yeah, man, think I covered all bases. Oh, add ‘spray paint.’”

“Spray paint?”

“The motorcycle.” That ‘SS’ symbol will get gone, mark your words.

“Solid idea.” Glenn grabs the piece of paper, scans it, and goes “Guess I got my work cut out for me.”

“Lori helped. She’s better at rememberin’ what’s needed or nice to have,” you explain, walking back with him to the grove where Dale and the others are setting up camp.

“Lori mentioned some other stuff, I just gotta write them down.”

“Oh, what’d she forget?”

“Nothing!”

Okay...private then? “I put period supplies on that list, too, dork.”

He laughs uncomfortably and you can’t help but wonder if there’s something unsaid that isn’t just him being silly about menstruation. Glenn isn’t the type to get uncomfortable about that sort of thing, he had sisters. “Sucks you can’t come with us this time,” he then sighs.

“I do wanna spend more time with Maggie, she’s been nothing but kind so far. You’ve talked with her, right?”

“Yeah...she seems cool.”

“Dude, and she’s so pretty.”

“She is really, uh, I-I guess, um, yeah.” Ha, look at his face. Somebody’s blushing.

A week or so ago, you’d both chatted about having had crushes on each other (past tense) at one point or another during the time at the quarry, actually. He’s another person who’s honest to a fault, and you love that. You’re glad he’s your friend.

“Sounds like somebody’s nervous to spend time alone with pretty Margaret...”

“Ugh, and when she told me about the run, she said something about me knowing ‘how to get in and out quick’ and it didn’t even click that she was talking about..like, not that,” he groans.

You can’t help but burst out laughing, wince when your stitches tug, then make fun of him for being “Painfully embarrassing!”

He playfully moans back “Shut up,” and elbows you, immediately apologizing afterward when he thinks he’s somehow injured you further.

Waving his concern away, you start to sing-song “Glenn’s got a crush,” while trying to tone down your smirk to a minimum.

“Coming from the one hugging the redneck every time I turn around today,” he cracks up despite himself.

“Aw, Glenny boy’s jealous!” you snark back.

“I’m too cool to get jealous.”

“So cool, the coolest.”

“And I get to ride a horse today.”

“WHAT?”

Oh, has he got on a very satisfied smirk of his own right now.

“Everything okay, kids?” Dale calls over, currently assisting Carol with her setup.

“Y/N’s just jealous I get to ride a horse today.”

“Ah, I understand.”

Grin still on your face, Glenn says he’s got to go get a quick riding lesson before they go, and heads off to the stable. You walk over to Carol, giving her the walkie and let her know “Daryl’s got the green one. He’s keepin’ it off but will radio when he finds her or if he gets hurt.”

She bites her lip, but nods and tries to smile. You don’t know what else to do but give her a soft kiss on the forehead and turn back to your tent.

You notice a figure hobbling over, and look up to see your brother moving way faster than he ought.

“Where’d you pop out from, loser? And slow down, that ankle ain’t gonna heal up if you keep doing that.” Thank the Lord he changed out of Otis’ clothes. He looks miles better now. Still has that 1,000 yard stare, but at least he isn’t putting salt in the wound by wearing that poor soul’s overalls.

“I just grabbed this from the RV, and Lori, um, told me I can st—I-I’m about to head out, check the highway,” he spills out all at once.

You’ve got no idea what any of that means except the last part.

“Is everything comfortable between you and Lori? It’s seemed very strained,” you voice plainly.

“Psht, yeah, what d‘you mean?”

Lie. Another lie. And you don’t care if it was a white lie or otherwise, so you swallow your disappointment and unease and change the subject. “Is Teddy going with you to the highway?”

He looks confused and shakes his head. “Dog’s in no shape—hey, I can do it,” he insists as you bend to try and set up the tent poles into the grommets. He grabs the poles from you and roughly gets them into position.

“Shane. You’ve got a bum ankle. It’s smarter to go with somebody.”

“You’ve got a bum shoulder and stitches in your gut, so that person ain’t you.”

“They’re just below my ribs, it’s hardly my ‘gut,’” you mutter. “Take Andrea, then. Weren’t you just showin’ her how to do gun stuff?”

He makes no response to that, only directs, “Okay, just hold that with your foot and I’ll pop the other side into place.” Once he gets the last pole into position, the tent bends up from the middle. “Right, let’s drive the stakes in. I’ll poke ’em down, you stamp on them.”

“Copy that.”

Another minute and your little camo tent is all set up. Shane grabs your pillow and sleeping bag and tosses them inside unceremoniously. Then you grab his arm and drag him in, too.

“Scoot back. Lay down. Rest your ankle a second.”

“Y/N, I gotta head out,” he protests.

“And I said you gotta rest your ankle.” And you put both earbuds into his ears, then point to your sleeping bag and have him place his ankle onto it. “Rest and elevate for exactly 10 minutes.”

You click through until you’ve got the track he needs. Going to California wouldn’t solve anything, but it was his comfort song and could get him out of his head for a spell. “That’s exactly three replays. You mentioned the song was precisely 3 minutes and 33 seconds, right?”

He doesn’t reply. You can tell the song has started by the way his brows lift and his eyes shut. But before you leave, his eyes open and he takes out one of the earbuds, waving you over. “C’mon.”

“Not the boss of me,” you whisper, taking the earbud and slowly easing yourself down to the ground, hand over your stitches to provide some support  He sticks his hand under your neck to help you down, grabs your pillow, and hands it to you. You then position the pillow so you two can share.

“You wanna talk?” you offer quietly. “I wanna listen.”

He pauses. Inhales. And for a moment, you think he’ll actually share with you. But he shakes his head and lays back again. You close your eyes and send up a prayer for some kind of help.

And the next thing you know, you’re waking up, the song is still replaying, and Shane isn’t in there.