#also yes the lighting is whack but at least it's there this time

[mimicmerchant]

2020 vs 2024

I think the most important takeaway is that I learned to draw elf ears bigger correctly.

[aromanticautiesworld]

finn x fem reader whos really into science, rambles on a bunch and finn actually listena to her which she hasnt seen anyone do and actually CARE about what shes saying and immediately starts crushing (they were og friends but it just made her heart flutter and it was a pretty sunset)

YES YES ABSOLUTELY love this <- fixated on astrophysics since he was six and is considering becoming one in the far future

////

finn with a fem reader who’s a science nerd

word count: 745

Finn called you over for repairs to their telescope not too long ago, something about a fight with the Ice King where he cracked the lense. The sun had already gone down, and the stars (now more visible after all the human’s pesky light pollution was gone) came out of their hiding spots along with the crescent moon.

You stopped the video game you were speeding through, the call being a necessary distraction to pull you out of what would otherwise be many hours straight of gameplay, and a significant lack of self-care.

You pack your bag with snacks, and (of course) books about astrophysics and astronomy (just in case the hangout became a sleepover, or you suddenly needed them. Things can get very chaotic very quickly with Finn), two of your favorite and very closely related sciences. Unlike him, you didn’t want to adventure for your whole life, you did eventually want to become an astrophysicist, maybe study with Peebs.

“Why do you even have a telescope if you never use it?” You say, looking down at the new lense you were trying to install.

“‘Cuz we need it to see any incoming baddies,” Finn waves his sword around, whacking imaginary enemies.

“What about, like. Using binoculars instead,”

“Telescope sees better,”

“Fair point, fair point,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You do actually know what it’s for, right?”

Finn pauses to think. “I mean…you look at the stars. At least I think you do. I dunno why you’d look at them through that when you can see ‘em perfectly fine from here,”

“It’s cool, trust me! It’s to see them in more detail,”

Finn stares blankly at you.

“So, in space, there’s, like. a hundred billion things—things we can’t even see from here—and this telescope lets you look at all the stuff you can’t see and all the stuff you can see but better,”

Finn sheathes his sword, “I thought there was just the stars, planets and the moon in space?”

“Oh, well. Yeah, but there’s also asteroids, meteoroids, all those decayed satellites from before the mushroom war, supernovas—oh oh oh! Do you know what a supernova is? They’re so cool—they’re basically a big, big star that after becoming a red supergiant they implode in this huge burst of energy that lasts years—and at the end it either makes a neutron star, or a black hole. Black holes are actually super cool too, they don’t let anything out—not even light! Most black holes are smaller than Ooo but there are some massive ones at the center of every galaxy—which is a whole other thing—that could’ve been formed by being compressed at the center of giant stars back in the ancient universe. Also, they’re probably going to be the last thing in the universe but because of hawking radiation eventually they’ll fade away too, and…um…”

You look back over at Finn, who now sat criss cross on the floor of the balcony. He’d been intently listening (even if he didn’t understand some of it) but in your eyes you were boring him. Most people don’t have the energy or desire to listen to your long rants about space, and once you start, the conversation fizzles out and they’re too tired to talk to you.

You look down at your hands, “Sorry, I was rambling again. We can talk about something else if you want, haha…”

“No, no no no,” He had zoned out many times during PB’s talks of numbers and other things kinda irrelevant to him, but for you it was different. Maybe he just likes hearing the sound of your voice, he doesn’t know. “Can you keep going?”

Your heart flutters.

Your rambling continues on into the night, moon and stars slowly moving across the skies. Finn doesn’t add much to the conversation, mostly watches with a fluttering feeling he couldn’t figure out in his chest. Man, you were pretty when you talked.

Many hours later (you don’t know it, but the sun’s coming up soon), you sit by Finn’s side, both of you sleepy from staying up all night.

Finn looks over to you, “Tonight was fun,”

You’re quiet, “…the funny thing is, most peeps don’t like to hear about it. The stars,”

“I wanna hear about the stars, if it’s you talking about them,”

Your eyes practically sparkle, and you pull him into a hug. Finn’s face grows hot, and he freezes before hugging you back.

“Tier one, dude,”

“What?”

“What?”

[swearingcactus]

borrowing showers past bedtimes

remember the little thing i wrote the other day about v borrowing kerry's shower? yeah i finished it, somewhat, decided it was still relatively short (2k) and too plotless for an ao3 post. so woe, fic be upon ye. (under the cut)

It seemed like it took forever until V’s incessant knocking on Villa Eurodyne’s front door got it to swing open.

Speaking of the door, when the fuck did Kerry even get his front door fixed anyway? They had tried to fix it on a random weekend when V came over, but it kept opening stubbornly no matter what they did. And then Kerry had gotten so mad and tried to rip the door of its hinges, so they dropped the effort altogether. And–

“Oh, shit.” Kerry’s voice brought him back to the present and V blinks to realize Kerry’s looking at him with wide eyes. He pulls down his headphones he had on to his neck. His previous annoyance at being bothered in his house at this hour slipping rapidly into shocked worry at the sight of a merc covered in blood and mud and who knows what else, standing with his arms and feet a shoulder apart.

“Hey Ker, wha‘sup, sorry for bargin’ in so late at night,” V says, words stumbling over the other like a trainwreck, then he gets to the point, “Can I please borrow your shower?”

“Jesus, of course,” Kerry says, and then jerkily opens the door wider like he just remembered he could do that.

“‘m not Jesus, I’m V.” V mumbled out absent-mindedly. He whacks his arm before he gets in, some blood and bits of flesh fell off the sleeves of his jacket, squelching to the floor.

“Do you need a ripper?” Kerry asked. V drags his feet onto the concrete in hopes it’ll lessen the blood stains when he walks in the house.

“Oh, nah, I’m fine. This isn’t mine.” V says, just realizing how this must’ve looked. “I’ve been out the whole day in the rain, went from the badlands then back, got a gig near here.” V walked further into the house, avoiding the items still strewn about the floor. “Got messy. Normal shootout stuff, grenades, the like, then just–” he makes a psh-SHOOO noise with his mouth as he creates an over-exaggerated motion of an explosion with his hands.

“Gonk had a grenade on him and pulled the wrong pin.”

Kerry lets out an amused, morbid chuckle. V thinks that’s nice; he’d probably laugh about it too. If he hadn’t spent the entire day being scorched and sweating under the Badlands sun, hit by dust and dirt. Then got whacked with a storm that came out of nowhere. Then trekked his way up here just to get blasted in the face with someone’s guts. He smelled like garbage and felt so grossed out, but he was still ready to spend the entire ride back to Watson feeling like complete shit… only to find that the earlier shootout had blown off his Yaiba’s fuel tank.

But yeah, he’s fine! He’s totally not gonna lose it if he can’t claw his way out of his clothes within the next 5 minutes. But just in case, he excuses himself to the shower and practically ran in.

–

V's buck-ass naked in Kerry's shower. It's a huge shower, taking up 30% of the entire bathroom and the bathroom itself is bigger than his apartment. And now the large space and the great ventilation is getting him cold. He rubs a foot on top of the other, trying to warm the palms of his feet. He goes to pick up another soap from the rows and rows of product that Kerry had, all lined up.

It took less time to decide on a shampoo to use earlier because there were only two options, and even though he should probably peruse the purple shampoo dedicated to keep hair dye to shine and all that... he had decided to use the one Kerry probably forgot at the back. It had dust on its lid but smelled powdery.

Johnny crackles, all blue pixels and blurs of light, leaning on the glass window next to him. "Occupied, asshole." V says, gesturing to himself. "Also, ever heard of privacy?"

"You lost your privacy rights the second you took longer than 10 minutes to decide on a soap to use. At least start the water. This isn't your megabuilding, Kerry can pay the hot water bills."

Johnny made a good point, but V opted to ignore Johnny for now, as he often does. Instead, he opens another soap bottle and sniffs it experimentally. He could tell this was Kerry's go-to soap. Smelled like mint and perfumed musk. He reads the name of the scent. Gold Desire.

"Oh fucking... his pretentious ass needs a beating." Johnny grumbles. V snorts and closes the bottle. It's a scent reminiscent of Kerry, which V doesn't hate, of course. But the idea of smelling like Kerry didn't sit right with him.

A little too domestic. A little like he's playing pretend as someone's cute little input who's enjoying the high life for years by now. A little too much like wearing a costume. He's already had enough of the idea of turning into someone he's not without a stupid soap doing it for him.

He goes to sniff the next soap and dry-heaves. It smelled overwhelmingly like burning plastic that's vaguely presented with artificial strawberry and vanilla. He coughs and puts it away.

“At this point your clothes are gonna finish being washed before you do.” Johnny complains, glitching away and popping up, squatting on top of the washing machine dramatically.

V picks up another soap, “Oh Johnny, gross, you cummed in this one.”

“I what.”

“Look, ‘Rockerboy’s Wet Dream.’” V says, grinning and showing off a green bottle. Johnny rolls his eyes and pretend-flicked his cigarette’s ash onto the floor.

V continues to read the bottle, “’Citrus and Red Chili.’ Wonder how that smells combined.” V sniffs it, “Spicy!” he announced to Johnny who has now resorted to softly banging his head on the wall behind him. V decided he could just use this one and goes to turn the water on.

He enjoys how it immediately produced the perfect temperature without him even needing to fiddle with the settings or wait. Some fancy tech that detects his temperature and automatically sets the most suitable one for him once his feet hit the shower tiles.

He pours a hefty amount, wincing at how the bottle wheezed and dropped a slimy gel-like substance with beads of scrubs– which hurt when he started to slather it up. Before the contact with skin promptly starts to burn. Granted he has never used a high-end soap with an exfoliator and whatnot, but V doubts it’s supposed to hurt this much.

V picks the bottle up again to inspect it, hoping to see if maybe he’s just using it wrong or something… when he noticed a manufacture date at the top of the cap. He froze in fear. “Holy shit. This was produced before I was even born. Why the hell do Kerry even keep this around.”

He chucks the bottle to the trash bin to the far end of the room. It missed and hit the wall, bouncing onto the floor. V scrubs the rest of the offending soap on him, almost panickedly.

“You can shower with my actual cum, ‘ll hurt less.” Johnny offers mockingly, getting in the stall with him. V elbows him hard, even if he glitches away before it made any believable contact.

“Give it a couple second and you’ll feel the burn too, see if you can joke then.” V grumbles. He takes a long deep breath and spends the next few breaths just watching as the bubbles get washed along with the grime and mud that starts to melt onto the floor along with the hot water. Shoulders slowly slumping as the events of the day start to catch up and some new bruises and cuts make their presence known. He cards his fingers onto his hair and plop goes the pieces of brain matter and what could’ve been an eighth of an eye. He kicks it down the drain, and blindly takes a random bottle.

This one’s still filled to the brim. He opened it to find it still sealed, even. He struggles to open it with his nails and managed to do so... sacrificing some nail paint in the process. He sniffed it almost dejectedly. Before perking up, pleasantly surprised with its unfamiliar but sweet scent.

"Huh.." he says, taking it away to properly read what it was. "Coconut and basil."

"Do you even know what a coconut looks like?" Johnny accused, out of nowhere.

"Sure I do. It's brown, kinda round looking. Floats. Not sure what a basil actually is though." V answers easily, and finally sets the soap next to the shampoo he had picked, and gets to showering in peace.

--

V stepped out of the bathroom feeling like an actual human again for once, shaking his hair onto the towel roughly to dry it.

"Ker?" he calls out. He hears a faint tune being repeatedly played and walks to the far end of the first floor. Kerry sat with his back to V, with his headphones in, frowning at a computer. He had a guitar in one hand while his other hand was covering his mouth, a finger tapping onto his lips.

Kerry glanced over when he noticed V in his peripheral vision and says, "Hey," but his focus quickly turns back to the computer.

V steps next to him to plant a kiss on the top of his head. "Thanks for the shower." (He could feel Johnny rolling his eyes, making pretend-barfing motions. V made a huge point to tell him to fuck off.)

"No problem," Kerry says, obviously still distracted.

"Busy?" V asks, knowing the answer but thinking he should probably still ask it.

Kerry doesn't really answer, just hums vaguely, somewhat affirmatively.

V spreads his toes out on the floor, feels that it’s dusty, still haven’t been properly vacuumed since god knows when. He shifts his weight. "... Anything I can help with?" He offers. It's a long shot but sometimes Kerry asks his opinion on song lyrics, even though V kinda guessed it's less of asking an opinion and more of showing off an unfinished piece he’s still proud of.

As he expected, the shot fell short of its mark when Kerry replies with a clear, resounding, "No." and by then V knows he's maxed out trying to get a conversation out of Kerry.

He goes to leave Kerry alone.

–

V checks his clothes to see it had finished its spin cycle and is now being dried. Still a couple hours to go. He goes back out and climbs to the second floor, trying to find something to wear in the meantime. Kerry’s a little shorter than him, (“Not by much.” Johnny annoyingly pointed out.) Fine, Kerry’s only a little shorter than him, but his clothes mostly consisted of leather or something so cropped, might as well just go nude.

There were some hoodies, though, large unassuming jackets Kerry bought in bulk to hide from media vultures. Big enough it makes his boxers look shorter than it actually is. V decides to borrow one, goes to bite and suck one of the hood’s strings immediately once he slipped it on.

He leans over the second floor to check up on Kerry from above. Kerry tapped the space bar so hard V swears it’ll crack. He starts grumbling unhappily, then goes to fiddle another tune on the guitar. Yikes. Better leave him alone for now.

“Derivative!” Johnny yells about the tune, over the railing.

If Kerry could actually hear him there would be a bloodbath.

V passed Kerry’s bed and goes back down to the first floor, sitting on the sofa. Kerry stops playing the guitar with an uncomfortable screech and whines loudly.

“Tell him try changing it to a minor tune.” Johnny says. V frowns at him, not sure if he’s actually offering genuine musical help or if he’s just fucking around to try and rile Kerry up. Either way, V knows Kerry wouldn’t appreciate any unwarranted advice at this stage. Johnny clicks his tongue, because he knows it too, he just doesn’t like not letting everyone know what he thinks.

V goes to lean back, only to sit up straight again, looking back and noticing there’s a bong stuck behind him. He pulled it out, then sighs at the mess. Before standing up and picking up empty and half-filled glasses to the kitchen to stick them in the dish washer. He continued to throw out two thongs wedged in the sofa. Wipe the counter from the sticky, spilled alcoholic drinks and their mixers.

It took a while until the sofa and the coffee table in front of it looked nice enough, and V sits and slumps himself onto it in satisfaction, letting the sofa’s crevice swallow him as much as it could.

–

"Hey, what're you doing here?" Kerry asks, gently shaking him to wake him up.

V blinks blearily awake, takes a second to realize where he's at. Then at the question. Wanted to wait up for you sounds too cheesy suddenly and V decides to just shrug.

"You cleaned my place up." Kerry says appreciatively.

"Nnno, just the sofa area." V points out, then yawns, putting his hand into a fist and using his knuckles to cover it. Kerry lets out an 'Awww' kind of sound and V stopped yawning immediately, frowning up at him. Kerry stopped cooing, and grinned, "Come on, let's get you to an actual bed, huh?"

He pulls V up and leads him to the second floor onto the bed. V falls into it immediately, rolling so he can plant his face down onto the biggest pillow Kerry had, while Kerry went off to turn off most of the lights on the switch on the wall.

V doesn't need to see to know when Kerry shuffled into bed when the bed dips next to him. He puts a hand out to feel for Kerry and when his fingers found contact on skin, he scoots closer.

"D'aww," Kerry says again cut off harshly when V pokes his ribs, hard. "Hey you don't want me to think you're cute? Stop being cute."

"Thought you said I was a brat?" V coyly asked.

Kerry lets out a huff, "Alright, down, boy. Way past your bedtime for that."

"Sounds like I need some punishi--" V couldn't help a yawn before he could finish that sentence, "Yeah, point taken." He shuffles again, a leg lands on top of Kerry's before settling. “Sorry I bothered you while you were doing your song.” He says to Kerry’s arm.

Kerry lets out a soft laugh again, rubs the point of contact between his fingers and V's upper arm, “Yeah if you were anyone else, I would’ve told you to fuck off. Consider it a privilege that you got me away from my set and I’m still letting you on my bed.”

“Yay, privilege!” V whoops softly. “Always wanted to know what that feels like.”

Kerry snorted again. They went quiet and V thought that was the end of it. Until Kerry adds, “You know you don’t have to…” he stops like he thought better than to say it. V opens his eyes to look up at Kerry, telling him to go on.

Put on the spot, Kerry begrudgingly continues, “I dunno, just… you know I’m here for you, right? So.. I dunno, V, maybe next time, you could just think of coming over in the first place instead of it being an alternative plan? And, ugh, I know how this might sound to– Look, I’m not saying this ‘cus I’m jealous or, or clingy, okay, I know you got your own thing. Look, you don’t have to act all awkward and proper ‘round me, ‘s all. I mean, come on, V, it’s just me.”

“Uh-huh.” V says, though he doesn’t really get what that’s all about. He shuffles and drops his head back to its original position, closing his eyes. He’s falling asleep again, and he fights to hear what Kerry’s saying next, it gets jumbled into one hazy tune. Something about time, and them being friends, sometimes a little more, something about worrying about not hearing something…

He snuggled to Kerry’s arm again, concludes Kerry’s probably just stressed about the piece. So, he sleepily asks, “Didja finish it though? The song.”

“Huh?” Took a few seconds for Kerry to realize what he’s asking, “Oh… Nope. Gave up on it for tonight.”

“Should try changing it to minor key.” V hears himself say without him actually thinking it, then he groans quietly. He kicks the engram mentally, mumbles out, “Oh, shut up, Johnny…”

“Yeah, shut up, Johnny.” Kerry echoes immediately. But there’s a slight moment where V thinks Kerry’s arm had tensed a tiny bit, before relaxing, as he leaned into V’s hair. Then, "You smell nice."

Thanks, it's coconut and basil. V thinks he says, but he's not sure because he conked out within milliseconds. He thinks that for tomorrow, in-between getting home, and doing gigs, and finding leads about the relic, he’ll try to figure out what a basil actually is.

Author's Note: yeah so coconut and basil huh. The coconut that goes around getting bobbed by the sea but floats with the flow. The basil that could mean anything from a token to ward off the devil to a symbol of love. Also smells great together as a body wash. Fun! Maybe Kerry'll think there's poetry in it if V shared it the next day.

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: At least it’s not as dull as fitting like a glove

summary: Damian and Jon are, well, Damian and Jon.

They're idiots about their hideously obvious feelings, and their friends are *so* done with them. Time for operation Damijon.

otherwise known as the friends meddling >:)

“Alright, this is getting ridiculous.” Maya wrinkled her nose, watching Jon knock Damian in the shoulder, the shorter boy grumbling as he knocked back, hint of a smile on his face.

“They’re like, disgustingly mushy.” Colin agreed. “It’s horrible.”

“They should kiss.” Skyler nibbled on her pencil, sharing a sketchbook with Akira, who looked up and grinned.

“Is this meddling, I hear? Are we meddling?”

Maya nodded solemnly. “We’re meddling.”

“-eT OFF OF ME, YOU IDIOT-” They looked over at the exclamation, Damian squawking as Jon flopped on him, going limp and forcing all his weight onto the smaller boy, who was mostly upright.

Akira pointed a pen at them, considering for a moment. ”Gay.”  

“You’re gay.” Skylar kicked them under the table playfully. 

“Yes, I very much am.” 

“Children, please, back to the matter at hand.” Maya clapped. “What do we know about Jon?”

“He was an asshole!” Colin chirped.

“He was probably being an asshole specifically to Damian for attention.” Skylar added. “And he’s tall.”

“He has black hair and makes bad fashion choices.” 

“He could probably be a jock in a different life.”

“He’s like, secretly Nick Nelson but not British.”

“And not nearly as nice, less manners and more fictionally jock-like.”

“I mean anything useful.” Maya cut them off, rolling her eyes fondly.

“His best friend is a girl named Kathy, and her parents run a diner downtown. Also, he’s a secret southern good boy who would get whacked over the head with a wooden spoon if his grandmother knew he was acting like this.” 

Akira looked up from stenciling a piece they wanted to throw up on the school alleyway. “I follow her on Insta.”

“Something helpful, thank you.” Maya grinned. “Okay, we’re getting this Kathy chick in on this, Akira, send the address and we’ll meet up there this weekend, provided they aren’t there for a not-date.”

“Got it.” Akira pulled out their phone and tapped at it, creating a chat.

New Chat: literally_nobody, End_the_cycle, Sky_high_dreams

End_the_cycle has changed the name to: Op Damijon

End_the_cycle: idk i think it sounds good

Sky_high_dreams: when they get married we should make them a wedding sign with this

Art.is.lit(erature): woodworking bet

Anyways heres the address - link

literally_nobody: Sounds good

 everyone meet there at like 12:30-ish, thats when they have tutoring so they def wont b there.

“Why are they all on their phones?” Jon whispered, pulling out his own. They were watching their friend, having grown curious at the lack of chatter, not that they’d really been listening to it from how they’d been badly flirting messing around with each other.

“They’re sitting in front of each other, they can talk face to face.” Damian grumbled, before looking over Jon’s shoulder, resting his chin there.  “Maybe someone died?”

“Nah, no one’s socials have blown up.” he leaned back a bit, raven curls falling into Damian’s vision, causing his nose to scrunch up. He blew the hair upwards, getting a glance at the screen.

“Weirdos.” Jon muttered, putting his phone away. Damian nodded, the two still attached to each other and now swaying back and forth with the light breeze.

“Very much so.”

“Oi!” Jon shouted. Damian startled, having grown accustomed to the peace and detached himself from the taller boy, much to Jon's disappointment. “What are y’all doing? ” 

Four phones were promptly slammed face down onto the table, followed by a multitude of bad explanations. 

“What makes you think we’re dining anything anyways?” Colin challenged, Maya pinching the bridge of her nose behind him.

“Fine, don’t tell us.” Damian muttered. “A four year old could lie better than you.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Jon poked his cheek, laughing as his hand was swatted away. 

“Are you insinuating I am a four year old, Kent?” 

“You’re as short as one.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re practically a giant!” he crossed his arms, before realizing Jon’s mischievous expression. “No. whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

He was scooped up not ten seconds later, screaming obscenities as Jon cackled. The four on the table shared a glance, one thought in their heads.

Truly sickening, they were. Oblivious and ridiculously pining.

Maya was outside of the diner at 12:30, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for at least a head of red hair to come bobbing down the sidewalk. She watched the servers swoop in and out, a blond freckled one catching her eye. According to Akira’s phone, this girl matched the description of Kathy. 

“Hey, welcome! How many for ya today?” 

Maya coughed, coming in face first with the girl. “Erm, four. Hey, you’re Kathy, right?”’

She hoped she didn’t sound stalker-ish. Judging by the way the girl squinted her eyes suspiciously, she probably did.

“Who’s askin’?”

“My name is Maya, and I'm a friend of Damian and Jon’s.”

Kathy lit up at the mention, but before she could respond, Colin came barreling through the door, catching himself on Maya. 

“Sup, M? Akira volunteered to pick up Skylar, they should be almost here.” He looked between them. “Hey, are you Kathy? Did Maya tell you about Damijon?”

“Damijon?” Kathy asked at the same time Maya sighed and said, “I was getting there when you so rudely interrupted.”

“Oops.” Colin grinned, looking between them. “I’m Colin.”

“Yo!” Akira, followed Skylar, came through the door, one looking extremely pleased, and the other mourning the loss of their paint-splattered jacket. “Sky made me change.”

“What’s wrong with what you normally wear? And where’s your jacket?” Colin asked.

“That’s what I said! And she made me leave it, I feel naked.” To make a point, they shivered, and Skylar smacked their arm.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” 

They stuck their tongue out at her in retaliation, Colin and Skylar laughing. Maya sighed, turning to Kathy and asking for a table for four, loudly asking for three children’s menus. They all eventually made it to the table, all five nursing milkshakes, as Kathy had asked for her break.

“Okay, so let me get this straight, they aren’t dating yet? Cause when they came in, they seemed awfully couple-like. Milkshakes and fries, and It was more of an apology from Jon. He’s been texting more, waxing poetic about him.”

“Really?” Maya leaned forwards. “Damian hasn’t said shit about Jon, not that he’s had time to, they're attached to the hip and he barely uses his phone.”

“Okay, so we know that they are most definitely pining for each other, and Jon’s more vocal about it. They both like milkshakes, Damian's a little too attached to his grades to not be hiding from his feelings, and they are more similar than they think. Should we have them commit a felony together?”

Colin swirled his straw around what was left in his glass, Skylar sighing. “I have a feeling they’ve already done that, his lock pick kit was used.”

“How would you know that?” Akira perked up, Skylar looking away. “That’s for me to know, and none of you to find out.”

“We should try something legal.” Maya said. “Anything going on so far? Worst case scenario, we trap them in a closet.”

“Smallville’s having a festival in a few weeks. I know Jon’s been dying to go back, an’ my family goes every year. If y’all can get Damian to say yes, I can get Jon’s parents to agree.” Kathy suggested.

“We can make it sound like a friend's outing, and then leave them together,” Akira added.

“Ask the person to rig the Ferris wheel or something so that they end up on top with no way down!” Colin chirped. “They have fireworks at this fair?”

Skylar hesitated, “Maybe something less traumatic.” 

Kathy, however, seemed to love the idea, nodding enthusiastically. “As long as Damian ain’t scared of heights, we��re fine. There are plenty of other rides we could ‘accidentally’ leave ‘em alone in.”

“This will be more fun than i thought.” Maya pulled out her phone, grinning. “A few weeks' time and we can get them together, no problem.”

Damian’s phone buzzed as he pointed out a specific problem, explaining the process. He ignored it, but not five seconds later, Jon’s did as well.

“Permission to check, Teach?” Jon grinned, picking up his phone anyways. 

“Granted.” Damian answered, picking up his phone as well. Maya had texted Damian, detailing the dates and time that they would be doing this, leaving no room for a yes or no answer. Kathy’s was a more nice version, asking Jon if he’d like to come down to Smallville for the fair in a few weeks, and that the rest of his friends would be coming as well.

Damian seemed less pleased, but softened as he saw Jon's excitement, and beneath it, a strong pang of bittersweet.

“Will your parents allow you?” Damian said. “My brothers will, my father will not have much of a say in the matter. One of them will probably make their way with us.”

“I want to. God, I want to so bad.” Jon’s forehead fell into his hand, pushing up the curls that so often fell into his face. “My parents haven't let me go down for so long, I don't know why they’d say yes now.”

Damian mulled over it for a bit. “If your brother tells them he wants to go too, would they be more susceptible to letting you go? Since everyone else is going, and your childhood friend’s family whom they trust is the one offering it?”

“I guess, but he wouldn’t want to come.” Jon grumbled. 

“He can fake it. Your parents are rarely home anyways, right? Shouldn’t be that hard.” 

“I’ll talk to him, see what he says.” Jon pocketed his phone, looking at the time. “Can we call it an early day, Dami?”

“If the first thing you do is talk to your brother, yes.”

Jon grinned, pulling him to his side and rubbing his nose in the soft brown hair. “You’re the best, Dames. See you in a bit.”

Damian flushed, but only nodded, sliding his bag over his shoulder and sending a soft smile towards Jon, pink still dusting his cheeks.

“So let me get this straight. You want me to lie to mom and dad for you, and tell them that I oh so desperately wish to go back to the countryside for a fair, so that you can go down with your friends and possibly woo Damian.” Kon had his arms crossed, looking largely unamused.

“I didn’t say that last part!” Jon huffed, running a hand through his curls. “And Dami said one of his brothers might come too, for supervision. Ask Tim to come if you don’t want to lie.”

“I’m going to lie for you.” Kon decided after a beat. “But you’d better come home with a boyfriend.”

“Kon!” 

Nonetheless, everyone was extremely excited for the next few weeks, the fair landing on a long weekend. They all met up in front of the Brandens’ restaurant, the carpool going big. One of Damian’s siblings and their partner had opted to come along, much to Kathy’s parents' relief. Seven teenagers and only the two of them would have been a disaster. 

The Waynes had the bigger car, so the kids would be in that one, while they followed the Brandens’ car to the farm they still kept in the countryside. 

“ROAD TRIP!” Colin yelled gleefully. Akira looked pained at the sight, Damian rolling his eyes and putting in his earbuds before they were even in the car. Jon and Kathy were both talking a mile a minute, regaling Skylar and Maya with tales of their youth in Smallville.

One by one, they shuffled into the car, Damian and Jon sitting in the back with Maya and Kathy, Colin, Akira, and Skylar squeezing into the front. 

“All ready?” the driver called, and the car exploded into cheers and laughter, shoving each other and hugs. 

This would be a rather eventful weekend, wouldn’t it?

[majortomyourcurcuitsdead]

Some S2 E2 thoughts

Just rewatched a second episode of a second season; what a good one it is.

I wanted to write out some thoughts I had about Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s dynamic while watching it; this may have been discussed already in one way or another, but I think this aspect is so omnipresent within the series that it can sort of be taken of granted, and possibly overlooked. I also like analysing out loud, or, like here, by writing it out (it's good for my as I like to call it my acting brain).

So, my main point being is (and it can divulge into a different one in a bit cause I am sleepy yet passionate about this)- Both of them see through each other, like no one else they know does.

Crowley’s “I want to destroy children of Job” ? (Naah, Aziraphale doesn’t buy it)

Aziraphale’s responses to Crowley ~ - Whose side are you on? - God’s of course. - Oh, really? The same God that wants me to whack the kids? - Yes… (Crowley’s like lmao angel welcome to the club I guess)

And please, this is so important to support this whole point - can we talk about Crowley’s

“What do you know about what I want” bit

The facial expression, tone of voice and the eyes which we luckily have a quick glimpse of in this scene (and I have a suspicion that it was done on purpose so they are visible here), they scream “I see and understand that you know me, but it’s too dangerous for me to just be who I am. So let’s continue, at least for now, to play this game and let me create the illusion that I am a demon that I am, they need to see it. Not because I sincerely want to actually be one, fuck that to be honest; I just don’t want to die. Am I angry at this? Do I even feel a certain contempt, actually directed at myself for where I am at? Yes. Can it be better? No”.

But I also think that this is buried quite deep in the case of Crowley; you could say it’s subconscious (but most likely with time and at some point comes more to the light). I also realised with rewatching and reading other’s thoughts about this, this I-want-to-destroy-children-of-job-and-stuff “shield” for his own survival has actually grown thicker with time. (And what I want to add, not deep enough to actually sincerely want to be evil, that wouldn’t be the character we have; at least in a canon way we have now).

It’s interesting because Aziraphale is not quite the same [yet], in regards to a stance with his respective “offices”; so they are not fully mirroring each other in this aspect [again, and hopefully yet]. (As an additional note, the most similar Aziraphale was to Crowley in this regard was right after the failed Armageddon, but as we know at the end of Season 2 he returned to Heaven with a newfound hope to make it better).

Yes, Aziraphale sees through Crowley and Crowley sees through Aziraphale. But it’s only Aziraphale who actually wants to be a part of Heaven. And more precisely, he stands for what Heaven is on paper (love light peace etc), which is in fact very obviously very questionable in practice. And excuse me, Crowley? The Shuhite Crowley who in the end saves children (and also later down the line is concerned about feeding ducks with bread? Pure evil incarnate yes). Definitely a very loyal servant of Hell.

Crowley is obviously way ahead in his journey of being the odd one out, and this episode beautifully shows a muuuchh slower downhill route of a similar nature for Aziraphale (“You’re going to fast for me Crowley” much?) But that being sad, Crowley assists him on his journey when he feels is a right moment to do so, by nudging him in a direction of questioning Heaven (cause he sees his Angel is deep down in his propaganda sh*t and Crowley just wants him out of there), but also just by being there where Aziraphale is in distress without making uncomfortable moments more uncomfortable for him (I remember specifically this being pointed out by someone already, I will make sure to link the post once I find it). So as mentioned, both of them see through each other, like no one else they know does, right? Imagine how the will see through each other even more clearly after both of them are on the same page in this regard.

Ok I will be going to sleep .. soonish cause if I said "now" that would be lying tbf I just take tooo long to prepare for sleep

[thateldribitch]

Neon Visions

You know, I realized I never posted this fic onto the tumble as well; so here's the link to it too. Seems pertinent to drop it in spooky month too.

Chapter One

Content Warnings: Vampires, trippy imagery, gore, violence, injuries; your one reminder that I love writing horror

The world pulses, like a heart—

And you are dead.

Sunlight seeps through leaves to dapple along the grass. Mushrooms dot the bases of mole hills; they also bore through the porous holes bored in your skin. The bugs made way for their spores, in voracious scavenger tunnels digging through your flesh. Carving patterns like worm trails through wood. The colorful caps crest over the pits of your eyes; maybe when the bugs are done, amanitas will grow from the sockets too. 

The crows left a long time ago, carrying off your flesh.

You don’t breathe, but every pull of carbon dioxide becomes your inhale. Every puff out of oxygen, your exhale. Funnily enough, the opposite of what it was in life. Life… huh. The world melts into the songs of spores and trails of animals. The grazing deer cutting teeth through green blades…. The squirrels beating their paws against the dirt. One buries an acorn where your heart once lay. 

And it blurs into color and it blurs into nothing ….

…

…

Until the footsteps.

“...Oh Darling,” he whispers, voice singing the same song as the grass and the mushrooms and the moonlight. You just know his words. And because you know his words… you can feel when he curls his hand into your jaw bone, when his forehead brushes against your shattered skull. “I’ve finally found you.”

A tear waters the acorn.

A tree feeds off your buried bones.

***

…It’s shitty waking up from a peaceful dream about death. Bore your eyes through the ceiling; tiredly search the cracks in it. It doesn't make it better. Doesn’t disturb the eerie tranquility crawling across your skin. What the hell was that? No plaster can spew answers from the popcorned texture pocked against the ceiling. A siren blares. The train blasts by, a bright streak of lights and a blare of noise against the neon night. White powder dusts down. Fucking hell…. The last dregs of daylight smear across your walls. Dragging your hand across your eyes, you wonder if you should dare to look at your alarm clock—

BRRRRRRRRRRRRING!

“Up and at them, I have breakfast.” Like clock work , Rollo knocks his palm against the door. Eight at night, on the dot. Groaning out a pillow-muffled half-scream, you chuck the clock at the wall. CRASH! Rapid footsteps. “What in God’s name did you do to—?!”

And then your pillow smacks into his head. He sputters and immediately chucks it back with the world’s lamest warcry. At least in your opinion. “I will go back to using the bucket!”

“No you fucking won’t—”

“Language!”

“WHORE!” 

He shrieks your name, clutching at his crucifix beads. His pure indignation burning in all its glory is enough to make you roll out of bed. “I did not raise you to be so uncouth!”

“Mmmm pretty sure we’re both orphans, Rolls.”

“I am seven years your senior, I may as well be your parent.”

…

…

“No, you’re right, that’s weird,” he nods after a minute. 

“ Fucking right?”

“...Ugh.”

“You have to admit it sounded gross.”

“Yes, yes. Now come along.” You bump shoulders with him as you pass him on your way to the table. Immediately, he whacks your back in a ‘dumbass’ kind of way. “Go get dressed.”

“Breakfast, then shower, then dress.”

“Fine, fine,” he musses your hair. You smack at his hands, but slip into your chair. Plastic crinkles against the cushions. Rollo put them on one day and never took them off; germaphobe claims it’s to keep them from being ruined, but now you just have plastic to clean. And it crinkles against your sheep-print pajamas. Dishes clatter in the checkerboard kitchen. Stacks of clean plates dry beneath a pristinely cleaned window.

Only a spider goes unscathed in the corner, and only because you’d pointed out that Francis catches the gnats. And Rollo can’t kill anything named after a Saint. Still, you can recognize the signs of his obsessive cleaning episodes. “...Did you seriously not sleep again?” 

“I meditated and committed to my evening routine.”

“That doesn’t count as sleeping .”

“Discipline keeps us alive .” Well. Guess you can’t argue with that. Your lip pinches as you fiddle with a hole in the cushion cover. A chipped plate scrapes across the worn wooden table. There’s still a sticker on it from the pawn shop you’d both dragged it from. It’s rickety, and needs a napkin wedged under one leg, but it’s yours. Sirens screech. A car horn blares and a man’s voice yells out. Dry toast sits against your tongue, drowned by cheap, bagged tea. You both finish before the sun can fully set. 

“Come along,” he dabs his napkin across his mouth. The fire escape awaits. A few thriving plants spill over the rusty rail. The leaves reach towards the last strains of light, just as he does. It’s like he thinks he can catch the rays in his hands. Rollo looks so serene, like this. Golden hour sunbeams highlight his hair a sparkling white, not dusty gray. Makes him look young and old all at the same time, but… at least younger than normal. And maybe you can convince yourself, for a moment, that this is all normal. 

But when Rollo bows his head to the sun, you follow suit. His hand finds yours and squeezes it. “Thank you, Lord, for another day. Thank you, Lord, for the beautiful sun. Let these rays follow us as we do your Work. And let us not succumb to the night.”

“And let us not succumb to the night,” you echo.

“ Amen .”

As you leave to shower, the sounds of sharpening knives follow after your footsteps. A rough scrape of metal on metal—the silver knives, expertly prepped for their work, are the most pristine, expensive objects in your home. One for you, one for him. And then there are the guns to clean, the bullets to bless. He never does any of it until after the prayer. Maybe that’s why he tries to catch the sun in his hands. Maybe he thinks it’ll bless the weapons all the more. 

It’s your last thought before you click the bathroom door shut.

***

The rumble strip of a busy, concrete highway slashes through commercial suburbia, vibrating the air with the droning hum of passing cars. Cuts of manicured greenery mix with industrial elements— straight lines of caged trees in islands of grass, square bushes line cracked sidewalks. There’s not much light. Maybe a spotlight on an ad, a stray street lamp, or the neon glare of gas prices blaring against billboards. But there’s just a single lamp here, and an airplane marker blinking on top of a tower. Two gargantuan piles of gravel and fill dirt loom before you, twenty feet of probable road material for summer repairs. A silo clings to endless webs of metal support beams. Hair rises on the back of your neck. You nudge Rollo, nodding in confirmation.

It’s here.

Immediately, he draws his knife, raising it in front of you as he takes the lead. You follow suit, eyes combing the shadows. Take a deep breath. In, out… and you can open your Eyes. Nothing visually changes. Shadows reign. But… as you wander further and further into the depths of the darkness… cutting quiet silhouettes against the occasional beam of light from the streetlamp… your hair stands on end.Your shoe scuffs softly against chipped paint lines along the cracked cement. Gravel hisses underfoot. 

“It’s close,” you warn—

WHAM! Rollo slams his fist into a shape that comes barrelling out of the metal webwork. Instinctively, you splay your fingers and roll your wrists. Golden light sparks in your palms. “Rolls!” You snap out, before the light in your palms flashes in a bright burst! Gray hair, you register. The shape darts back into the shadows.

Quickly, you yank Rollo to steady him on his feet and he slams his back into yours. You steady your breath against the brace of his spine. Rollo keeps his knife at the level of his eye. The silver knuckles wrapped in his fist glint. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, fingers sparking. Your skin sizzles softly, pulse pounding. His steps shift slightly. Following the pattern you know by heart, you both begin to turn. A backward dance of keeping your eyes alert. Scanning the shadows for the enemy. Hackles raised, you try to quickly pick up its trace. “Fledgling?”

“Seems it,” he tightens his grip on his knife. CRASH! Pain. Your back plows into Rollo as it tackles into you. Rollo locks his arm in yours and yanks you to the side. He catches a quick flash of teeth with the back of his knife; you clench your fist and flick out your fingers. Sparks shower into its face. Catch a glimpse— young. Youthful features, gray hair. Just like Rolls.

Your heart aches as it leaps back again. Rollo immediately pulls you behind him, shielding your back with his arm. “Hey—”

“You’re squishier and it’s targeting you.”

“Fuck off.”

Focus. You shake your head. Use Rollo as your compass. Turn slowly, calculatedly. Find it. Take it out. You can’t let this thing hurt anyone. Steadying a breath, you focus your Eyes…. And the world… bursts into… color. It’s like flipping a switch. No shadow, no harsh white light. You can… See… everything . The rust stains on the tower burst into oily rainbows of muddled color; the plane light is a blaring beacon of neon. And it blooms with bright red flowers. And they bloom beneath booming bells of moon trees. And the stars rain down and the blossoms die and you can’t help but drift your eyes all the way to the tip of this brilliant pillar of color—

Black. White. Crimson. All the other colors drain into sparkling, vivid pinpricks. Like a black hole, with a haloed ring of intensifyingly neon red and a void black center, all other colors die beneath those eyes. Eyes . Looking right at you—

Click.

DEEDEEDEEDEE—

A safety device shrieks as Rollo yanks its pin and tosses it behind you. He curses as he scruffs you into the shadows. He doesn’t like using it. Good distraction; too much attention; and there’s one other reason that you can’t recall. One other important thing, but your dizzy brain can’t— can’t— fuck, focus!

“Close your Eyes , damn it.” Rollo grits his teeth through his angry-panic. Something stings. Something rough presses over your vision. But you can still See his wide eyes and hear the curses tear out of his lips. “—bleeding worse than last time—”

“Rolls—” You choke out, but he shakes his head. 

“You stay here, your eyes are—”

Red eyes.

“ Rollo!” Snarling, you snatch his hands away. Bandages fall. Your vision runs red with burst blood vessels. You look monstrous, shaking your brother with shot-wide eyes and stained, bared teeth. Frantically, “We need to go , we need to call someone— someone— anyone, there’s— there’s an Ancient—!”

But Rollo’s not in your grasp anymore. Your brain barely has time to register. Crash! Crack . Thrown into the gravel pile, tossed like trash to be buried by the rock. Doesn’t yell. Quiet, why is he so quiet— pain . Claws pierce through skin and muscle to grasp bone . Your body drives into the ground. Another crack. Your own, your back, maybe? Adrenaline blacks out most of it. Heart pounds. Looming. Tall. Gray hair and youthful features . Strong. It pins you to the ground and hisses at your pulse. Desperately, you thrust your hands out, sparks flaring and your eyes burning . But it bashes your hands into the ground. Drool drips onto your neck, drip, drip, drip .

Shit, shit— do something, it hurts , anything, Rollo help me , fuck, move, move, move!

But the bite never comes. It’s a small delay, but it’s enough. Enough for your brain to react on instinct, to blast your hovering assailant off your prone form. The night lights up with a beacon of brilliant light. Something sizzles, smoke, pain, blood. Doesn’t matter, it’s not on you, you’re alive, you’re alive, fuck, Rollo . You barrel to your feet, slip and slide in the dirt and scattered gravel. Brother, where’s your brother, dig through the rocks with your damn bare hands. Hurts, it hurts, your hands hurt so much —

An arm plunges by you. Yanks your bloodied brother from the pile. A brief, intensely cold presence. And then it’s gone. Maybe it was you, maybe you’re just that in shock that you can’t recognize your own limbs. No time to think, it doesn’t matter. It’s all a blur as you haul Rollo out of the rocks. Into the car. Zipping off down the highway…

A pair of red eyes lingers in the rear view mirror, until your tires screech off into the night.

Literally cannot tell you how "big brother Rollo" got stuck in my head, but it's been fun writing it.

[halfagone]

I had a sudden idea here:

The two most common Ghost Core types given to Danny in fanfics:

Ice core

vs

Electricity core

But what if he had neither of those and yet both at once?

What if Danny has a Storm Core, which gives him the power to rain down ice and call upon the biggest lightning storms?

Amity Park has never experienced a full Summer day ever since the portal. The hottest days of summer should've been sweltering, right? (No really, am I right? I'm not from America, so correct me if I'm wrong)

Except nowadays, it feels like the worst Summer will ever get is a particularly hot Spring day, where you maybe throw on a t-shirt and comfy denim over your swimsuit and go to the beach or pool.

And last time there was a particularly nasty storm coming their way, it seemingly faded and vanished, only to appear on the other side of town and leaving Amity unscathed. After all, a cyclone will fade upon meeting an opposing cyclone that seems to spin against it. And Danny has always been very good at going up against forces of Nature, and forcing them to yield, or at least coming to a draw.

Ember might've also one time referred to him as an "oncoming storm of ass-kicking"

The day Danny calls on a tornado to trap her and her fire attacks in the eye of it's razor winds, the ghosts come to understand she was more on point that anyone expected.

Technus gets his ass zapped by a bolt of lightning like Thor calling down his judgement (or, as he said later, "like Pikachu on crack") and it leaves him short-circuiting for a good while, like when the light goes out for a bit and suddenly your wifi has to be rebooted to make it work again. Later, he begrudgingly teaches him to better channel electricity. Danny's first Technus-inspired move is a real-life Thunder Fang. And he used it against Vlad.

And, since I adore the headcanon that the Ancients collectively adopt Danny, Pandora starts calling him her "little storm"

I kinda wanna have him end up dating both Kitty and Johny, as a whole thing where they both dated him at separate times, but both times he was the best goddamn date they ever had asides from being each other's soulmates, and now they're having FEELINGS for him, so Kitty has the idea of both of them sitting down with Jazz, since she's the local feelings expert, and she whacks them with a rolled up magazine, but they both end up together asking out Danny.

And I'm imagining he's more influenced by them than he would admit, because he got himself a bike like Johnny, and started taking tips from Sam, and has more leather stuff and goth fashion than he'll ever tell anyone about, especially because the heavy fabrics are great to wear on a bike.

Kitty ping-pongs between who's bike she hitches a ride on. And I'm betting she was a huge fan of books, while Johny loved Greek mythology (yes, I'm saying Johnny was a Percy Jackson fan as a kid). Which means that their affectionate nickname for Danny is "Typhon", for the Greek Titan of storms.

(Ignore how my brain keeps yelling at me that Danny would call them "Kitty Cat" and "Barghest". I imagine Barghest for Johny because of Shadow, who starts hanging out more and more as a puppy because of Cujo, except Shadow prefers a hanging out as a shaggy hound ((imagine Ruth from Ancient Magus Bride)) and that's exactly what a Barghest is.)

Ooh, that's a really interesting idea! Danny has been shown to control the weather after the Vortex incident in "Torrents of Terror" so you've even got some canon backing to this! (As for weather in America, it really depends where you live? It's commonly headcanoned that Amity Park is in Illinois, and the temperature on average across the state in the summer is in the 80°s Fahrenheit or ~26.667° Celsius, but there have been records of summers reaching to the hundreds in Fahrenheit, although it doesn't happen often.)

It'd be really cool to see Danny both consciously and subconsciously altering weather events. I really like the idea of Danny being able to control the weather, especially if he does it so casually while others are looking on with their eyes bugging out of their sockets in shock. Because controlling the weather is no easy feat (Storm from X-Men? OP as fuck). Aww, "little storm", love that nickname. A little ball of ferocious energy. Like an angry chihuahua.

It might not be a cyclone, because Amity Park isn't near the coast even if you don't headcanon it in Illinois specifically. But parts of Illinois and the Midwest are in what's called "Tornado Alley", so it still technically would work, it would just probably not be a cyclone but a tornado. Unless it's Vortex up to his tricks again, but then it wouldn't be a naturally occurring- Sorry, tangent, but you get the idea.

If you've read lex luthor's ascent, then you know I like the idea of Danny dating both Kitty and Johnny at some point, but why not both at once? Polyamory coming in for the win! Hopefully Danny can keep these two from constantly arguing tho... Honestly, I just adore the possibilities of dynamics between these three (especially if Danny is stuck as 14- physically at least- as many AUs will have him, he can be with his also eternally young partners and not have it draw much attention from strangers). "Barghest" is a really interesting nickname and- after doing some more research- I can see why you chose it for Johnny, particularly with Shadow in mind.

A Storm core AU is really cool. I like Space core AUs as well, because there are a lot of weather events that could be caused by astronomical phenomena and it ties really well with Danny's love for space, but I think this is the first time I've ever heard of a Storm core for Danny. It would explain why Danny took to Vortex's power really well/easy, and while canon is really more of a suggestion to Danny Phantom fans at this point, I still really appreciate the neat tie-in it can offer.

Thank you for sharing this with me!! I'm glad others share my love for Danny/Johnny 13/Kitty, in any of its forms. (Mostly, forms that appreciate both their characters for all their faults.) Thanks for making me day a little brighter, and I hope you have a great day!

[nahisummerhold]

Nahi to Pathyn: Word is we are moving camp tomorrow.

She had given up on not reaching out to her life lines, but what the therapist talked with her about had her a bit shook and she just needed a friend, but the only person she considered a true friend, one that actually knew her more than anyone, was Pathyn. Maybe before he went off the deep end she might have considered Kyean, but that was now locked up in a tight little place of anger in her mind. 

Anger that she had let go of while she confronted Ky but then swallowed down, which the therapist said was not really a good idea. There was a whole bunch he said about her emotions, then sent her off to journal about how she felt about what he said. 

That was part of what she was avoiding in the hopes to talk to Pathyn, but she continued to wait so she began to journal, fel take him…

It wasn’t until she was right about out of words that her comm blinked and vibrated.

Pathyn to Nahi: Hey girl. If you are going deep dark you need to be careful, things are a bit out of whack down there. I know you are pretty well protected in camp but all those creepy crawlies are devious.

Nahi to Pathyn: Yeah got the sense that was the case when they exploded up from the ground to take out a light that was keeping them at bay.

Pathyn to Nahi: That is nothing Nightengale, so you need to watch yourself and your company. How are you doing?

She knew that was not a polite question and it took her a few moments to answe. It  was nice to be able to talk to him without awkwardness, but she wasn’t sure she liked the topic. 

Nahi to Pathyn: I am not sure. I am pretty upset at him. Also, you need to know I don’t blame you for this at all. You are not his keeper.

Pathyn to Nahi: We are family and have been fighting together for thousands of years. I blame myself for not seeing what was going on. Or, I did see and thought he was just worried, I was so wrapped up in scouting I didn’t realize how far he was taking things.

Nahi to Pathyn: I knew too. At least I knew he was watching me. I didn’t think of the consequences if he got caught, or at least maybe I should have? Company life is still hard for me to understand.

Pathyn to Nahi: It takes time, it is much different  for each company too. Yours is small and really well trained so anything like that needs to be handled, and quickly, before it gets out of hand. In our group we all have known each other for a long time, so problems like this have never come up before. What he did was very serious in the camps’ eyes, so much so they told him to leave until he gets his mind right. And they called his mother. 

Nahi to Pathyn: They did what? Called his mother? You guys are eons old and that is still a thing?

Pathyn to Nahi: Some of our camp fought alongside her, it was why they did not punish him worse. Oh, and I sent her his comm override in case he tried to avoid her. 

Nahi to Pathyn: Blessed sun, that is just cruel.

Pathyn to Nahi: We live in a matriarchal society, what he did was bad  Nahi, not just for you but he was raised better than that. Something his mother told me in great detail becuase I wasn’t taking your safety seriously enough. 

Nahi to Pathyn: He wouldn’t have hurt me, he wants and worries about me, yes. But hurt me? No, I don’t think so.

Pathyn to Nahi: In the eyes of our team he did hurt you, or your reputation at least. He knew better, and they could not just let him go without making sure he would deal with it. Hence his mother.

Nahi to Pathyn: What is she like? 

Pathyn to Nahi: An older Priest of Elune. Bad ass and very devoted to the Goddeas. He is going to be in so much trouble. You have no idea. 😈

Nahi was envious of the little face at the end, she needed to figure out how to do such things. 

Nahi to Pathyn: That makes me smile, and feel sorry for him at the same time.

Pathyn to Nahi: Do not do that. This was done to you and you don’t take the blame for being the victim in this.

Nahi to Pathyn: I am not a victim, Pathyn. 

Pathyn to Nahi: You have your own consequences in dealing with this. How is everything in camp?

Again she knew what he was asking without him saying it.

Nahi to Pathyn: I know people are talking, I get the voices behind my back after I go somewhere but no one has approached me.

Pathyn to Nahi: What will you do it they do?

Nahi to Pathyn: Handle it like everything else in my life, with a smile. 

( @themercenaries )

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

On a scale of Blegh to Slay Girl, which OB character design is the best and worst?

I'll be talking about my own thoughts in this post, but if you're interested in seeing a larger sample size's opinion on this question, you can check out the results of this poll! Vil was initially hardcore in the lead, but over time (I think because someone datamined and shared Malleus's full body OB design during the period in which the poll ran) Malleus overtook him.

From personal Blegh (worst/least liked) to Slay Girl (best/most liked):

Azul — This is the first “real” look we’ve had of his true form, and it doesn’t leave a good impression on me. It’s not that I don’t like Azul’s look as an octopus, the proportions of his tentacles just seem… off?? Like I feel like they should be much longer than they actually are. Additionally, the design of the tentacles makes them look plasticy and fake, almost like pool toys you’d blow up and then whack around in the water.

I also feel like because of Azul being an octopus, the design feels a little empty and the designers overcompensated by cover up the empty space (ie slapping random stuff on). The placement of the shells on his lower body is very weird on him, and compared to his collar (the necklace, the coral spiking off his shoulders) there’s not a lot happening here. The harsh black blot against the grey-purple of his skin also looks very jarring (which, as you’ll see, will continue to be a point of contention for me as we get into other OBs). Perhaps the only element I like in Azul’s OB is his crown, which resembles King Triton’s (you know, after Ursula yoinked it from him). It’s not too much embellishment like the elements at his collar, and it’s not oddly placed like the shells are.

Vil — I like his sleeves, veil, and little metal talons!! I also appreciate this his single glowing eye has blot running down like tears or running mascara! … That’s about it. I find that nothing else about his look does it for me 💦 Vil’s chest feels… oddly empty?? It’s like he has no form at all there because of how unnaturally smooth it is. And while I kind of get where the devs are going with the religious imagery and the incorporation of peacock feathers, I don’t think it all visually meshes very well together. The blot that his fabric fades into ends up looking like weird clumps of hair sticking onto the ends of Vil’s train and sleeves because no one was there to hold them up for him to keep them clean.

His crown is meant to make him look regal and imposing, but I just giggle a little because it looks so… chunky that it comes off as comedic and top-heavy (like he’ll keel over from the weight of it any second now). Yes, I understand it’s the same crown as that of the Beautiful Queen; I just think the extra things they added to it (ie the peacock feathers in the halo) gives additional weight that isn’t needed. I’m not sure if I get the weird spikes at his waist either; it was probably to better color distribute the scarce white in his look, but I feel like some other design element would have made it look less disjointed.

Malleus — This look is what I jokingly call “Nosferatu”; it reminds me a LOT of a stereotypical vampire, from the cape and slicked back hair to the zombie-like tint to the skin and draconian is this considered a pun clothing. The skin (being a reference to Maleficent) is, of course, a muted green color. That… just makes Malleus look hella seasick to me DX maybe like he has some cyanosis coming on??? In any case, I don’t like it. hdisbskskxos ANOTHER THING, THE GLOW IN THE DARK/LIGHT UP HORNS AND TAIL ARE SO FUNNY 😂 It doesn’t make me take him seriously as a threat when he’s over here lighting up like a lava lamp.

The main thing that makes me like this design a little over Vil’s is that the colors of neon green and deep blue-purple offer a greater contrast between the super dark parts of his clothing. There are also little details I appreciate, like how the blot on Malleus’s face forms little black scales like that of a dragon or a lizard and the continuous incorporation of thorns throughout the design. There are thorns over his torso, thorns crawling up his waist, thorns forming the “cage” of his skirt, and thorns climbing up from his cape—it really sells the imagery that his own insecurities and loneliness are swallowing him. The thorns on his chest are of particular interest to me 👁️ It’s like Malleus has “walled off” his heart to intruders, refusing to let them into his perfect dream world where no one leaves him. It just works well thematically!!

Jamil — I know Jamil’s OB design is really unpopular. I didn’t initially like it that much either, but the more and more I thought about it, the more I realized that while I don’t think the outfit is awful, it’s Jamil’s physical traits that drive people off from him. I actually really enjoy many elements of his OB: the tattered veil, how his skirt flares out at the end, the shoes, the beads, the draping cloth of his sleeves… The problem is, that’s not what my eyes are immediately drawn to. I’m way too busy staring at his snake hair and fake facial hair to notice anything else 😂

The snake hair looks so goofy (I think because of them lacking a lot of detail), and I'm not sure if the hair turban was a good choice either. I think it gives kind of clashing ideas as well??? The idea of snake hair invokes thoughts of Medusa, who is more closely linked to Greek mythology (which, thematically speaking, is more of an Ignihyde thing than a Scarabia thing; I’m not saying that Idia should have snake hair, but the fact that it was put on Jamil who had no association with Greek mythology may feel slightly off). The blot pooling at his chin and forming pseudo facial hair is also pretty silly (I know it's to mimic Jafar's goatee, but it's still weird to see on Jamil). Altogether, it creates a weird initial impression, especially when combined with the various over-the-top facial expressions Jamil makes while in this form.

Riddle — Here’s the part where I admit I probably ranked Riddle high due in part to nostalgia and because I’m really into Alice in Wonderland motifs 🤡 I think it’s a nicely balanced design, not only because of the even distribution of black and red in the dress (plus white as a much needed accent color), but you very clearly get the “Queen of Hearts” vibe without the very obvious overabundance of hearts everywhere. There’s a lot of neat little details, like the roses at his waist, the “spider legs” of playing cards, the loops of the bow that form a “heart” behind him, and the incorporation of suits into his choker and various other areas.

One thing that I think helps Riddle really stand out is just how small he is compared to everyone else; his OB outfit helps to further emphasize that, with the length of his dress’s train curling around him. We see the size difference highlighted in the battle against him as well. Riddle’s Phantom looks over him while he floats slightly hunched over, as if a puppet on strings. It makes me think of how his mother still has a strong hold on him, so she’s the one “in control” of his strings, the one influencing his toxic behavior. That lends Riddle’s OB a lot more personality in my eyes.

Idia — Cringe lines aside, I like how different and dynamic Idia’s OB is! The electronic mouth guard helps him be a lot more expressive than he usually is, and all the blue flames and swirling blot creates a super distinctive look. (I’m especially a fan of the vortex of blot that makes up the lower half of his design.) Blue and black work really well together, and I also feel like that color combination is good for emphasizing the sleek, cybernetic armor Idia sports, with the black part being metal and the blue part being the lights/energy/magic/electricity coursing through that powers it.

I guess the one big con against Idia’s design is that it doesn’t much resemble Hades. However, I tend to find that I have a preference for more subtle design elements in OBs, so I don’t really mind this. There’s enough sprinkled in to get the idea, from the stripe of cloth hanging from Idia’s clavicle to the slender (resembling the robes of Hades), pointed fingers of his gloves (again, similar to Hades), and even the vortex of his armor (like the spirits of the underworld swirling around). A lot of the tech elements help make Idia stand out and tie back to the trauma he experienced, so I think retaining the robotic nature of the OB is a must!

Leona — The single major qualm I have with this design is his lack of footwear 🥲 I never want to see bare feet (I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say it’s related to a traumatic childhood memory). Other than that, I think this is the most cohesive design of the OB boys. It's not too much, but it's also not too little, and the colors aren't too garish, nor too much black. The slicked back hair and furry collar resemble a lion's mane, and even something as understated as Leona's silhouette is made to better resemble his Disney counterpart (Scar's body shape is replicated using a corset of sorts). The blot covering his hands also gives him sharper nails, similar to a lion's claws. Leona's jewelry is also an interesting choice; the necklaces, of course, resemble the teeth of a predator, but everywhere else the jewelry seems very shackle and chain-like, perhaps alluding to how Leona feels resigned to his fate because of something he cannot control (his birth order). He's trying to break free of those attempts to keep him down, rebelling against people's low expectations of him.

The fabric that's draped over his lower half is a little on-the-nose; it's ramshackle and stitched together, resembling "scars" (geddit, cuz "Scar"). In the context of an OB though, I think I can overlook this. All of them feel broken, so seeing torn and ruined elements only makes sense. You can see his tail chilling inside of that cage of stitched fabric, but just barely because there's also golden cloth in front mostly covering it. To me, this is a good thing because tails on humanoid characters kind of unnerves me 😅

Anyway, those are my thoughts on all the OB designs ^^ I hope that was at least somewhat interesting to read.

[mightdeletelater]

rishi, the only extremist in the room is you

Rishi Sunak's speech yesterday about the need to "protect democracy" is incredibly rich coming from an unelected PM, and it proves the closeness we are to despotism.

I am speaking from someone who partly grew up under a dictatorship. In some ways, I actually think that we're entering an even scarier era. Where I was growing up, at least officials were open about their regime. Yes, they made their people suffer greatly. But they did it openly. Still very horrible, but fascism under the disguise of democracy is, in my mind, more dangerous. And so very near.

Sunak's speech, filled with falsities, continued what his government have parroted ever since October in reaction to what is happening in Israel and Palestine. And that is the broadening of the definition of extremism to encompass dissenting voices, potentially criminalising those opposing political and financial support for Israel. That's not an exaggeration. Sunak said as much in his rambling speech.

A ceasefire should be the minimum expectation, yet leaders of the 'free world' can't even support that. If we lived in a just world, we'd have sanctions, trials and prosecutions. We'd have an end of diplomatic ties and an end of the occupation. We'd have war reparations, restoration of land and a right of return for all Palestinians.

This week, we've witnessed the extreme act of protest in the form of self-immolation, which saw a US air force airman dousing himself in gasoline outside the Israeli embassy in Washington and lighting himself on fire. Days later, the IDF targeted Palestinians seeking aid and food after killing over 30,000 of them. It's very concerning that 24 hours after the most grotesque image of someone being bulldozed by a clearly labelled IDF tank went viral on social media, that was the statement Sunak chose to make.

And yes, his speech is in reaction to what is happening in the Middle East, but its implications go beyond. His words run deep even if the current situation was magically solved tomorrow. The very act of protesting is under threat, making his lecturing on division exploitation outside Downing Street hypocritical, considering that is the driving force behind his government. He is right. There is a group in the UK fostering extremism and threatening democratic freedoms – the Conservative Party led by him. Sunak's warnings about extremism would carry more weight if his tenure as prime minister hadn't consistently promoted it.

His speech also included an endorsement of Voter ID, disenfranchising thousands. You cannot claim to protect democracy by making it harder for people to vote. The man, who again became PM through clearing and without a public vote, also said that people voting for an MP he disagrees with is an attack on democracy. It's like we're living in a dystopian satire that not even the greatest writers of our time could imagine.

And Sunak's assertion that Britain has never been on the wrong side of history in his concluding remarks is particularly troubling, considering his background and lack of acknowledgement for his ancestors who endured colonial rule for nearly 90 years in British India.

The worst part? Sunak is just one of many. If he goes, there is someone next in line to replace him and crackdown even further.

It's like playing an endless game of whack-a-mole. You get rid of one, but another pops up, and then another and another and another until we all get sicker, poorer, and sadder and die.

[longislandcharm]

TIMING: Early March LOCATION: Winter's House PARTIES: @longislandcharm and @animotoph0bia SUMMARY: Finn wakes up at Winter's house after another long night and Winter decides its time to have a talk. CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcoholism tw, Unsanitary tw (light mentions)

She was starting to feel like a babysitter for this guy and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Last time she met Finn out and he was shitfaced, Winter had put him in an Uber and called it a night but this time she couldn’t in good conscience do that. There was no telling what kind of driver he might get, not to mention she truly did want to ask the man some questions about the crap he kept saying when intoxicated. Something about feeling other people’s emotions and calling out others for said emotions. He was a total mess but her curiosity had definitely peaked.

Now he was fast asleep in the guest room that she was still trying to unpack from her recent move, the medium trying to shake him awake with the promise of aspirin and electrolyte infused water. “Come on shit head, wakey wakey. We need to talk.” She placed her offerings on the bedside table before moving to the window to open the curtains. Despite the snow all over the ground it was a bright sunny day. She hoped that with the light filtering in it would wake him up faster. 

“You were a real peach again last night. This time I let them hit you.” And Winter didn’t feel one ounce of guilt about that. If he wanted to act like a disaster then he deserved the pain the next day. She even considered taking the aspirin away. “You really are determined to piss off this whole town, aren’t you?”

Finn was well aware that alcohol was a shit way to get some sleep - something about sleep quality and whatnot, plus the mornings that followed tended to be rough. What was good about it was the lack of dreams. As well as the meds usually worked to knock him out, they loved to throw some nightmares into the mix for the fuck of it, and where was the sleep quality in that? At least when he was passed the fuck out, there was the benefit of simply not existing for a moment - until existence inevitably turned around and whacked him in the head. 

Like, literally. He was no stranger to hangover headaches but ouch. 

“Shut the fuck up, Ellie,” Finn groaned, becoming more aware of his surroundings and the suffering with every passing moment. And eventually the fact that this wasn’t his sister’s voice, nor was it a room he was familiar with. Hands scrambled for bed sheets as he moved to sit up, way too fast which was a horrible idea, everything spinning and the pain in his head going blinding for a second. The light streaming into the room didn’t help, vision blurry as he blinked at the owner of the voice and the unfiltered annoyance. “Winter?” he finally croaked out, hand reaching out on instinct and actually managing to find his glasses. “What the fuck…” 

They hadn’t… no. No way, he would have remembered that… right? Also, she was way too pissed off for that to be… well, actually… Wait, pants. He was still wearing pants which was a good sign, even as he still clutched the sheets to his bare chest like a lady in a film from the 60s. “Wait, who hit me?” Finn eventually said, now able to distinguish the pain of the headache from what was definitely a bruise forming on the side of his face. 

“Yes, Winter, the one who keeps witnessing your very quick descent into infamy. I don’t know an Ellie.” She turned, hands on her hips, to find the man clutching the fabric of the sheets to himself as if she were trying to get a peek at him. For a brief moment she wondered if he still had his pants on for him to act like that but then a realization came to her. She was almost offended by how terrifying sleeping with her seemed to be. “Oh, you wish.” Rolling her eyes, she grabbed his shirt from an armchair next to the bed and tossed it at him. “I won’t look, princess. I didn’t even see you last night, I just threw you in here and said good luck.” For good measure she turned back towards the window so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Even with the biting words, she didn’t want him feeling like that.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t the big guy from last time but this one was pretty big. Muscley, someone I would have actually taken home if you weren’t almost out cold on the ground.” No she wouldn’t have. She would have never touched that guy but she felt like rubbing it in just because it seemed so ludicrous to him that they could have. Winter was petty, there was no denying it.

“There’s water and aspirin on the bedside table. Take it. You’re going to need it because I want to talk to you about something.” Her arms were crossed but she brought one up to inspect her nails as she waited. She wasn’t sure how much time he needed since Winter was sure he was moving slowly. The man was a wreck. “Something about feeling emotions and all. You brought it up again last night and I’m finally curious enough to ask what you mean.”

Everything was still so fuzzy, the process of waking up someplace he had no recollection of arriving at making everything more confusing. And even though he was barely awake enough to say more than a few words, Finn was somehow still managing to piss Winter off further. “We both know you’re way out of my league, hence the confusion,” he did manage to fumble out, hoping it would at least slightly rectify the situation. Whatever the situation was. 

Even though it made the room spin, Finn used the provided opportunity to scramble from the bed, grabbing his discarded sweater from the floor and pulling it on. It smelled how he felt which was in no way helpful. “You really shouldn’t perpetuate the myth that girls only sleep with assholes,” he shot back because everything hurt and Winter’s bad mood was easily rubbing off on him. A ‘thank you’ was definitely due but she was pissy which meant so was he. Although the aspirin did seem like a peace offering, no matter how ominous that ‘something’ sounded. 

Finn didn’t have to wait long for Winter to elaborate and of course this discussion was about some shit his big, dumb mouth had been blurting out. Gulping down the water like a man shipwrecked for weeks, Finn made an attempt to stand before deciding against it. “Right. That. Don’t know what there is to discuss, sounds pretty self-explanatory,” he said dryly, tentatively touching his aching jaw and wincing. Must have been a pretty decent punch. 

Way out of his league? Well, that was enough to simmer her anger down a bit, Winter sighing softly. The people in this town needed to get more self esteem even if Finn was correct. She was out of his league. “You’re not the worst choice of partner out there, have a little more faith in yourself. It might help others like you if you actually liked you.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, still annoyed but clearly losing her edge little by little. For some reason she held a soft spot for the self deprecating people of this world. She didn’t show it in the best way, no, but she only wanted them all to realize the good things about themselves so they could appreciate them all, no matter how little those were in quantity. She wanted the same for him.

Until his next statement, anyway. “I didn’t sleep with you, now did I?” Her arms crossed over her chest, annoyed with him once more for accusing her of perpetuating such a stereotype. It wasn’t even true. After hearing his rustling around in the room, she figured it was safe to turn her head and see if he was dressed now, and thankfully he was so she turned the rest of the way to face him. “So, not perpetuating anything.” 

Her eyes narrowed in on him, not amused with his answer. Why was it so difficult to talk to people around here? “So you can feel the burning desire I have to punch you myself, right?” It was rhetorical, of course, as her curiosity for what he could do outweighed her need to go back and forth with him. Winter uncrossed her arms to take a seat on the opposite side of the bed from him as she continued. “But really…you just feel what everyone else feels? If you wanted to know what I was feeling towards you then you could dig around with your mind or? How does that work?”

It was almost a compliment, but genuine. Mission accomplished in not getting himself thrown out the window, then. A fair point, too - at least he wouldn’t try to eat someone on the first date. Chewed with his mouth closed as well. Probably put him well above a few of the picks in town. “Hey, I’m an oldest child with a dead dad, what do you want from me?” Finn shot back, hoping to discourage any further attempts at a lesson in self love. Which was easy seeing as he was running his mouth and Winter was already on edge. 

“Fine, point Winter.” Finn scooted back on the bed, leaning against the wall with a quiet groan. Counting down the minutes until that aspirin kicked in. This had to be the worst possible moment to be having this conversation but it was either that or standing up so Finn rode the wave of Winter’s annoyance at his nonanswer. Raising an eyebrow, realizing that she actually didn’t crave violence too badly at this moment, he only replied with a slightly smug shrug. 

The bed dipped under her weight and the curiosity grew. It really did seem like she believed him. Pushing back unruly hair, Finn sighed. “Yes and no. It’s not exactly an on or off thing, more like… smelling, I guess. Trust me, I would love to be able to only pry when I wanted to but no dice. It’s just… there. Constantly. Which is great because people totally have emotional regulation and it never gives me a mental breakdown.” Alright, oversharing a bit, back it up. “Aaaand I have no fucking clue how it works or why so there.”

That escalated quickly. Winter raised an eyebrow at him, surprised that he would say that so indelicately, but she couldn’t judge. She had no idea what it was like to lose a parent or how people coped. Still, she was pretty sure his dead dad wouldn’t want him to hate himself so much…right? That’s how parents were, or should be, really. “And I’m an only child with parents who apparently manipulated me my whole life. Doesn’t mean you should think so badly of yourself.” The words might have held the facade of being unsympathetic but her tone was softer this time, almost as if he didn’t annoy the shit out of her. 

Satisfied, a smirk pulled at her lips, the girl taking that as a win. He could rub her the wrong way but at the end of the day she did like somebody who could be as snarky as she was, especially when they gave her credit for comebacks. It was enough to satiate her need to ‘one up’ as her mother had once called it. 

Winter couldn’t imagine having to be in his shoes. The girl didn’t even like her own emotions, or admitting to having them anyway, and this man had to walk around and feel everyone else’s constantly? It was almost violating in a way, knowing that everything she tried to hide from others was readily available to him but at the same time he couldn’t help it, could he? She now understood why he was such a mess. On one hand, she hated this for him, but on the other she was wondering whether or not Finn could feel that sympathy she now held for him. “Wow…it must suck to be you.” It was all she could think to say, fully aware that she couldn’t handle what he had to go through every minute of every day. “No wonder you’re a dick.”

Aw, shit. Was there a way to go back to her being exasperated? Finn would much rather deal with that than the waves of pity currently worming their way into his brain. Probably his fault for prefacing all of this with a dead dad joke - fine, less of a joke, more of a snarky comment - but still. It was glaringly obvious, even with the tendrils of worry he now specifically recognized as people wanting to guard their emotions. It had been there with Milo but to be fair, he’d been high when the bomb had been dropped. If only he had some weed to offer Winter now. 

A saving grace, she didn’t offer her condolences. Instead, she had Finn barking out a laugh that immediately made his head throb. “I know, right? I was actually tolerable right up until puberty. Which applies to a lot of guys but still.” He sighed, letting his head drop back against the wall. Trying for once to focus on the horror of his hangover instead of Winter’s process of working through what this meant, a small attempt at privacy. “It’s almost hilarious how quickly people believe me here,” he pondered out loud, gazing at the ceiling. “You have no idea how many psychiatrists back home have tried to shove me somewhere into the DSM five.”

With no warning except a groan of effort, Finn pulled himself up from the bed. “I need caffeine. And then maybe food, jury’s still out on that one.” Especially now that he was standing, even though his stomach felt extremely hollow. Fuck, had Winter watched him hurl again? The fact that he’d thought for even the briefest of moments that they’d slept together seemed even more ludicrous now. 

She rolled her eyes, knowing damn well that anybody was insufferable after puberty hit. But she didn’t deem the comment worthy of correcting. Maybe his hit different. “Why? Is that when you started feeling everyone else’s moods?” It made sense, right? Puberty meant changing bodies so maybe his ability or whatever he wanted to call it manifested at that point. Winter almost thought that would have been worse though, suddenly having something that had never been there before and having to figure out how to navigate it? Yea, she knew how that felt and it wasn’t the easiest thing to go through. If that’s what he went through anyway…no need to form a kinship if that wasn’t the actual case.

A scoff filled the room, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked directly at the disheveled man currently inhabiting one of her guest rooms. Did he not know what went on around here? “I don’t think the DSM five has a place here. Let's just say, your little gift is the easiest thing I’ve had to believe in this town.” Just then, Henry walked through the closed door, the ghost looking between the two. ‘Am I interrupting something?’ She rolled her eyes again but Winter took the opportunity to explain what she meant. “For example, the shithead that just walked through the door. You know, the ghost you most likely can’t see? I see them everywhere.” 

She watched him pull himself to his feet, unimpressed, but the fact that he had the nerve to ask for anything else after their morning was almost impressive. Winter would have respected it had she not been the one who had to comply with his requests. Now she was just annoyed. Again. “I can make coffee but you’re on your own with food. I don’t really keep much in the house, mostly because I would probably burn it down if I tried to touch the stove.”

“Yeah,” Finn groaned, rubbing at his temples in a pathetic attempt to soothe the headache. “Almost made the voice cracks tolerable. Just like ‘hey, here’s some hormones and also, you’re maybe going insane’.” Winter reminded him once again that the only reason people believed him was that this was a hellscape town and if he’d been in better shape, Finn would have loved a sharing session of what atrocities she had encountered so far. Seriously, a list of places and people to avoid sounded great. Instead, he was focused on caffeine and food, barely registering her statement as he worked on patting himself down in search for his phone, responding with a distracted ‘mm-hmm’ as the search moved to the bedsheets. Bingo. 

“Wait, ghosts?” His brain finally caught up, sort of, and Finn quickly waved off the descriptions of her cooking skills. “Also, yes and thank you on the coffee even though I was totally planning on getting it somewhere else but since you offered- you can see ghosts?” Was Winter keeping up with him. Was he keeping up with himself. Clutching at his phone, Finn’s head swiveled to take in the room, as if he would suddenly see a person there that he’d just somehow missed before. “Where? Who? Are we talking like a Poltergeist deal or are they just… there?” Heaving in a deep breath because this was using up all the energy he really didn’t have, Finn resisted the urge to flop back down onto the bed. 

“That sounds rough.” Her voice was flat though, no sympathy to be shared this time around. She’d already given him that and even if Winter thought feeling everyone’s emotions at once was a fate worse than most she wasn’t someone to feel sorry for one long, especially when that someone brought on a lot of what they got themselves. “I can understand not knowing what to do with it at a young age but have you ever tried to look deeper into it? There’s gotta be some information out there pertaining to your…condition. Maybe even a way to control it? Because you can’t keep getting drunk in bars and starting fights with random strangers or you’re going to end up dead.” And for some reason that wasn’t a fun thought. Sure, he wasn’t her favorite person but she didn’t hate him either. She wouldn’t have brought him to her house if she did.

Why? Well, that she didn’t quite know herself.

There it was. Amusement took over the annoyance when her words finally hit him. She heard Henry snort as Finn started to look around the room, Winter throwing her arms up with a shrug. Oh, she was going to have fun with this. “He’s right next to you. Not a poltergeist…” A shudder ran through her at the thought of her last run in with one of those but the uncomfortable feeling passed as Henry moved closer, waving a hand in front of Finn’s face. “Did you feel the temperature drop? Did it wake you up a little more?” Her smile turned into a smirk. “That’s Henry. He says hi and sorry for your unfortunate circumstances but at least you have both of your arms…unless he takes one from you.” 

Now she was just being an ass but she hoped the entertainment she got would be worth it. Henry gave her a look and she shrugged at him to wave it off. “Alright, coffee it is. Henry will join us….well, he can’t drink it obviously but just a warning that he’ll be there in case you’re chilly.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Finn admitted, just the tiniest bit annoyed that he was getting brutally called out on the self-destructive behavior. And argument that he never planned on starting a fight seemed fruitless at this point, so he added instead, “I sure as fuck didn’t move here for the affordable housing or career opportunities.”

For a moment, he wondered if she was just messing with him. Finn had been here long enough to not doubt that there were people that could see ghosts but whether Winter was one of them… she was definitely enjoying the look on his face enough for this to just be one, big joke. Wrapping his arms around himself as she looked at something unseen just beside him, Finn figured that if it was a lie, she was a convincing actress. “Hello… Henry.” Was it colder or just the power of suggestion? Shuffling uncertainly across the floor, very aware that he might walk through someone, Finn followed her out of the room. 

“What’s he going to do with one of my arms?” he scoffed, even though the comment only prompted him to clutch both arms closer to his person. “So he just… follows you everywhere? What if you’re, like… y’know, with someone. Or showering?” Taking a seat in her kitchen, still glancing around as if that might suddenly provide him with the sixth sense (seventh?), Finn found that the Advil finally seemed to be doing its job. 

“To start random bar fights and end up in a pretty girl’s house, of course.” She shrugged, as if that was the most obvious answer in the world and her dry humor wasn’t on full display. Winter moved towards the coffee maker, the one appliance in her kitchen that got used more than anything, and started to work on their pick me up that they desperately needed. “Do you want an espresso shot too? You might need one…” She trailed off before finishing her harsh thought of ‘to get out of my house’, not wanting to scare him away. Because as much as she wanted him out of her house there was also an opportunity here to do something that she loved to do; research. “How far have you gotten with your search? Have you discovered anything about it yet?”

The smirk pulled at her lips, deepening, but Finn couldn’t quite see it as her back was turned to him and she let a casual tone slip into her voice. “Oh, you know, ghosts always seem to want what they don’t have. He’s missing one of his. Even if he can’t exactly use your arm his jealousy might get to him so I’d hold on tight.” Henry snorted at that, his head shaking at her antics. “You should leave the poor boy alone.” She just glanced over, showing the ghost how much fun she was having with the look on her face as an answer.

His question was a fair one but it did give Winter pause. The showering thing happened every day obviously but the other part of his question couldn’t be answered. That would have to be figured out at a later time. She could feel her cheeks heating causing her to frown. It wasn’t the fact that he was asking about it but the realization that she hadn’t needed to figure that out with Henry yet that was embarrassing her. Had it been that long? “Not that it’s any of your business, but he can be about twenty feet away from me.” There was a sharpness in her voice that she hadn’t intended on mixing in but that’s what she did when she was embarrassed; she lashed out. The severity depended on how embarrassed she got. “In the house he’s been able to roam freely without being by my side constantly. He gets stronger the more time he’s around so I think that’s helping him be able to pull further away.” 

“That too,” Finn agreed in the same, flat tone, a ghost of a smile on his face. Still just a bit too hungover to enjoy sarcasm at the moment. That coffee, though, that he would enjoy. He didn’t even bother to hide the excitement on his face as Winter went to work, agreeing enthusiastically with her offer for more coffee. Six espresso shots were probably closer to what he really needed but he was already a giant bother to Winter. “Not really. Just mostly been avoiding death and doing dumb shit since I got here. Feel like I’ve basically met and seen everything except something that might help me with this.” What a surprise that his plan of ‘go there and see what happens’ wasn’t working out perfectly. 

If his brain hadn’t been filled with cotton at the moment, Finn probably would have caught on to the smirk in Winter’s voice. In this current scenario however, the fear that an invisible figure would suddenly decide to tear off his arm was very real. “Cool. Very cool,” he mumbled, following Winter’s gaze at nothing, and shivering once more. Fucking ghosts. 

For the first time during their two rather unpleasant meetings, Finn felt his body grow warm with Winter’s embarrassment, followed by immediate guilt from himself. Oops. “Totally right, shutting up now.” She had answered his question though, satiating his curiosity on whether or not ghosts were just inherently pervy. Although the idea of an arm ripping ghost growing stronger wasn’t exactly putting the empath at ease. “Please don’t revoke my coffee privileges.” 

The medium let silence linger for a moment, Finn’s question making her think about her dry spell more than she wanted to. Ultimately, she blamed the town. It was full of weirdos and murderers and who’d want to sleep with those, right? That’s what she kept telling herself because delusion was better than blaming herself and her shitty attitude. Then she wondered why it was so easy to slip into those thoughts without the other interjecting. Winter, surprised that Finn wasn’t pushing this further, looked over her shoulder at him to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep where he sat. It felt like the only reason he wouldn’t be teasing her but no, he was sitting there just pleading for his coffee. 

And then she realized he’d probably felt how embarrassed she’d gotten and she bristled. That was going to take some getting used to.

She slid the coffee over the counter to him, deciding to give him a break on the ghost stuff since he was dropping the last topic as well. Instead, she would focus on his issue. “It’s called research, Finn. Reading, the internet, tracking down people who know about your abilities…it’s not that hard in Wicked’s Rest. I might know some people who can point us in the right direction.” Winter had used ‘us’ without even realizing it. Now she was curious too and whether she liked it or not she would be doing her own research. She might as well share her discoveries with him as she went. It was his problem after all. 

Even though the totally out of line topic had been dropped, Winter was still pensive and definitely annoyed. Not at Finn so much, he was starting to get a decent feeling for the exact kind of annoyance his presence evoked in her - no, it was an annoyance that he oddly related to. More of an… impatient restlessness that… Oh. Maybe he was way off but the chances of Winter appreciating a line of questioning about how long it had been didn’t seem high, even if Finn was on the same boat. That would definitely get his coffee privileges revoked. 

When Winter finally procured the cup of coffee, it inspired Finn’s first genuine smile this morning. Grabbing the cup did mean releasing the death grip he had across his torso but honestly, it probably wouldn’t even do much if Henry decided he was in the mood for chaos. And Finn really wanted that coffee. As he reveled in the sweet taste of caffeine, Winter started providing advice in a way that was a bit like scolding but beggars couldn’t really be choosers. “Oh, it’s called research, is it?” Didn’t mean he could shut down the hungover urge for sarcasm completely, though. 

“But uh…” Finn took another sip of coffee before continuing, wanting to make sure that the next words weren’t accidentally laced with sarcasm as well. “I’d definitely… appreciate that. Maybe I’ll even try not to be wasted next time you see me, as a thank you.” He glanced over at her, feeling immensely grateful for a moment while also completely undeserving of Winter’s help. Stupid hangover making him extra mushy. “Sorry. For, y’know… me.”

Her smirk returned when she saw Finn’s death grip unravel in favor of the coffee cup, her eyes flicking to Henry who rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. He was enjoying this just as much as her but he didn’t want to show that. No, that would be giving Winter too much credit. This would be a fun gag to keep up for a while, hopefully Finn would still believe it once he was in a better headspace. 

“Yea, asshole, research. Apparently, you don’t know the meaning.” Sarcasm for sarcasm, it was their thing. And then she sighed when she realized they had a thing apparently. Why was it so easy for people like this to get under her skin and burrow there? Their first encounter had ended with him in an Uber so how had that progressed into her giving him a room the next time? She should have left him in a gutter, she really should have, no matter how lost he seemed. As if to answer those questions, Finn’s words pulled at her lips, not able to help the amusement that came with them. “You? Not drunk in my presence? I’ll believe it when I see it.” She took her own cup from where it had just finished brewing and took a sip, Winter looking over the edge of it at him. He had to stop doing that if they were going to look into this together. She wouldn’t be able to handle the self depreciation too long. “Don’t ever apologize for being who you are, Finn. Own it or change it, but don’t apologize.”

[byrdstrolls]

Mysteries Are Like Onions Part Two

Barely sits in a curled little perch by the train window. The wrappings of two sandwiches on the table that separates him from Miss Laryan. The woman seems to have calmed down a whole lot, spending time idly working on a crossword. His eye’s not leaving the landscape rolling by, Barely says,

“Tell me one more time, Miss Laryan.” 

“Barely,” She sighs. “I keep sayin’, that’s really all I remember.” 

“Please Miss,” He pleads. “I’m just thinkin’”

“Alright” She huffs. “I was rushin’ out of work, late on papers again. I put the land exchange receipt in my wallet. I might’a left it there, might’a not. I locked up. I headed home, put my coat on the rank, and went straight to bed. Next evenin’, I woke up, and went to the station.”

“And you’re absolutely sure, no one else was there?” The rust interjects. 

“Yes, Barely” She sighs. “Not a soul.” 

The child's stare hardens. 

“And I had worked myself into a tizzy” She says, “About Vekeso and Damial fallin’ out, and visitin’ Shercattle.” 

“And you fainted.” Barely says.

“Well” She huffs. “I must’ve. I woke up on the ground.” 

“Are you sure no one could’a attacked you? From behind?” He questions. 

“Barely” She chuckles. “If I got whacked up the head I think I’d have a whole lot more of’a headache than I do now. I’ve fallen off horses when I was a pupa- that stuff hurts!” 

“And no one was there, when you woke up?” He says. Wishing longingly he’d checked the footprints around the train station before the two of them left. 

“Not a soul.” She says. “I dusted myself off, and started pacin’ and that's when I saw you.”

The detective sighs. 

“What’s a ten letter word,” Miss Laryan begins, starting her own line of questioning. “Fourth letter ‘R’ seventh letter ‘T’- for the bendin’ of light as it passes through somethin?” 

Barely seems crabby, frustrated with the change of topic and also perhaps being stuck on a train all day. But in all his politeness, and perhaps, his teacher's pet-like quality of always wanting to seem intelligent, he gives her crossword honest thought. He scribes down a few possible words, frowning, before he lands on one.

“Try Refraction, Miss.” He says. “Maybe we should think harder about motive. Why’d someone wanna hide a land receipt? Do you think…” He trails off, wishing he got to question more people in Baskertop. “Maybe a cowpoke was lookin’ to stop rentin’ from the mayor..?”

“It was older than that” She huffs. “I can’t remember the exact date- But. Musta been at least a half a sweep ago. Nothin’ recent.” 

Barely sighs, biting so forcefully at his necklace Miss Laryan grimaces, worried he’ll break the pretty little thing.  

“Don’t worry ur little pan too hard, Barely” She reassures. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out together.” 

“...Thank you, Miss” He says. But doesn’t sound altogether convinced. Loose, scrambled thoughts tangle in knots in his head, his leg bouncing on the train's floor and tail twitching idly conveying his restlessness, like a cow swatting flies on a field. He’s trying to distract himself, watching the world go by. He’s seen the distance turn from slow rolling plains to hills dotted with farms, the green lushness of the river peaking in and out by the tracks. Shercattle seems a bit more populous than Baskertop, but not by much. Neither town could have more than 200 trolls. Something was hiding here, in plain sight. Desperate to keep a hold of a grip of control that was fragile enough to be toppled by a single paper. 

“Three letter word” Miss Laryan says, “For a conscious thinkin’ subject in philosophy, last letter ‘O’”

Barely blinks, watching the landscape slow as the train pulls into the Shercattle station. He doesn’t need to write down test words this time. He knows this one. 

“Ego” The Detective says. 

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A farmhive sits on the edge of the road. The lawn seems to have been trimmed and weeded almost obsessively. It looks to have been recently painted, a uniform alternian black, but if the moonlight hit it just right, Barely notes, you could see the traces of the original purple coat. He doesn’t think too hard or too long on what the reason for the remodeling could be. Because, well, it’s obvious. On the edge of the path leading up to the door, a sign on a small pole reads- “OPEN HIVE! YOUR NEIGHBOR REALITY”. They must’ve spruced it up to be sold.

Miss Laryan is taking in the sight of this a great deal less calmly than Barely seems to be. 

“Why would Damial move??” She says, having started a frantic pacing, again. “Was he in some kinda money trouble, why, we coulda helped him! Why didn’t I hear about this!”

“Miss Laryan,” Barely says. “Didn’t you say him and Vekeso had a fallin’ out?”

“You think maybe that was because of this?” She stumbles. “You think that receipt has anythin’ to do with it?”

“Well” Barely says. “Half a sweep seems a frightful long time to wait to putta hive on the market” he says, gesturing. “And this is an open hive.” He thinks. “Don’t work yourself up, Miss, he coulda bought ‘imself a nicer farm, right?”

“Right” She says, her shoulders losing a little bit of their tension. “But… where will we stay today? He coulda moved all the way to the city for all we know.”

“Why don’t we head downtown?” The teenager shrugs. “And ask around about what happened here” He says. 

She pauses. “...Alright” She says. So the two of them begin a trek back towards the heart of Shercattle. 

“Everythin’s been so strange lately” She mutters. “I can’t help but think somethin’ awful’s happened. Messiahs put a curse on these towns.” 

The rustblood pauses, something incomprehensible passing through his expression. One might’ve thought he was a touch too smart for superstition. But on a world like Alternia, well, sometimes the smart thing to do is to pay folktales some mind. 

“There are many kinds’a curses, Miss Laryan” He says. “Some Messiahs, some witches, some good ol’ fashioned chance.” He lists. Sure acting like he knows a lot on the matter, curiously. “And some,” he says. “Just a regular troll movin’ his hands so fast and so quiet when your money disappears it feels like magic.” 

“Not much a detective can do about the first three.” She sighs. “Maybe i shoulda found a lil’ priest.” She jokes, ruffling his hair. 

Barely huffs, allowing this fond action on her part only because he really did like Miss Laryan, even though trolls treating him his age often made him feel kinda silly.

“You’d be surprised-” he says, and then pauses. “-Hey!” he says. “That's the same store that was in Baskertop” the child says, hurrying over to peek into the window of another DUNNERMART. “And the same guy” he says, glancing at Dunner, who waves.

“Oh,” Laryan says, rushing to keep up. “That fish is everywhere” She surmises. The bell dings as Barely enters the shop, both eager to integrate Dunner again now that it seemed he could have eyes on so many places, and a little hungry. 

“Fancy seein’ you here,” Barely grins. 

“I’m the CEO, son. I check in at a lot of the locations.” The fushia chuckles, pausing his restocking of a wiener rack. 

“Interestin’” The kid says, gnawing on his necklace as he walks over to look at the candy. 

“What’re you doin’ up in Shercattle?” The man asks. Barely pauses, suddenly acutely aware Miss Laryan had not followed him into the store. A quick glance out the window confirms that she, just as Barely had, had recalled her possible fugitive status, and decided not to enter. 

“Just passin’ through” Barely says, picking up a bag of those gummy sharks. “On my way to the express line.” 

“Lil’ guy like you headin’ all the way to the city alone?” Dunner frowns. 

“I’m somethin’ of a wiz kid, Mister Dunner.” he says. “I can handle myself” 

“If ya say so” Dunner shrugs, adjusting his employee ‘hi my name is dunner’ tag on his white uniform. 

“You see the open hive down the road?” Barely asks. 

“Yeah, I seen it” Dunner sighs. “A damn shame. Damial used to be an upstandin’ gentleman, back in the day”

The detective exhales. This did not seem to bode well for Miss Laryan’s friend, and he didn’t look forward to telling her. 

“What happened?” The rust asks.

“There was a big illness” Dunner sighs. “Tore through the milkcows a season ago. Lotta farms went outta business.” 

Barely frowns.”I didn’t hear about that from any of the cowpokes down south” He inquires. 

“Well, thank the messiahs, we quarantined,” Dunner shrugs. “I shut down my dairy factory as soon as I heard- it didn’t make it in any cows there either. Baskertop was fine. But all the same. Damial’s farm didn’t make it. Cows died. Ran outta business. I offered him a job at my factory, but he didn’t take it. Had too much pride in ‘em. He-” The shopkeep pauses. “I dunno if I should tell you til you’re grown, son.” he sighs. 

“I can handle it” The teenager insists, standing up as tall as he can over the counter, notebook clenched in his hand, hangin on every word. Dunner looks to the side, breathes out, and then turns back again. 

“Let’s just say he started goin’ down to Lar’s a bit too often” The clerk says, delicately, mentioning Shercattle’s only bar. “Musta kept her in business, a guy that big. Musta took a lot to make ‘em drunk but he managed. Started lashin’ out at everynight people who didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Always groanin’ about his jadeblood sweetheart down the way who did ‘em wrong. And well you didn’t hear it here, but the two of them never even dated. Probably smart of Vekeso to walk away from that one. Damial, he’s well, mostly just a sad sight and general nuisance to the folks in town now.” 

“I see…” Barely says, pausing his scribbling. 

“I’d stay away from that one, if I were you son. You know what they say about purples.” Dunner warns. Dunner seems to be full of these kinds of warnings. Maybe he was paranoid, maybe he was on to something, it was yet to be seen. 

Barely, the end of Dunner’s sentence echoing in his mind, grips the candy in his hand. 

“Is the first candy also on the hive…?” he asks, hopefully. 

“No,” Dunner says. “You gotta pay for that one.” 

The rust checks his pockets, and sighs, before pausing. 

“Mister Dunner” He begins. “You may not know this, but I’m a high class detective. You wouldn’t happen to have a mystery that needs crackin’ I could solve in exchange for this, wouldya?” 

The seadweller’s eyebrows raise.

“Well…” he pauses. “Matter of fact, I do.” He says. “I’ve been tallyin’ up the math overday, and it seems like sometrolls been takin’ money outta the register when I’m not around. It’d save me a pretty dollar from havin’ to buy a camera if you could find out who” 

“Gladly, Mister.” Barely says, perking up. “When do you switch shifts?” 

“In two hours” he says, a tiny frown appearing on his face as Barely pulls open the bag, despite what he had just agreed. 

“I’ll be back then” Barely says. 

“You’re gonna just walk outta here” Dunner says slowly, “And never come back, Detective Barely? I might have t’call the sheriff if you did such a thing, and I don’t wanna do that.” 

The rustbloods ears flatten, he pops his necklace out of his mouth and pops a gummy into it. This bag couldn’t cost more than three bucks. 

“I won’t Mister Dunner, I promise” He says, flipping to a new page on his notepad and scribbling down the words 

‘DUNNER TRUSTS NO ONE’.

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In the two hours before he had to go keep an eye on the DunnerMart, Barely decides to head down to Lar’s Bar. He had found some kind of errand with which to distract Miss Laryan, who he both didn’t want to break the news about Damial too, and worried she wouldn’t let him go in a bar because he’s six. He had asked for ten caegars for lunch. He contemplated just going back and paying Mister Dunner, who he wasn’t sure was serious or not about the sheriff thing, but in the end decided he was too much of a cheapskate. And the register case would probably be easy. 

So there he stood in front of the dingy lil’ place. The parking lot was sparse, it was still early in the night, at the time Barely hoped that it would be easy to talk with a resident alcoholic without being overheard. LARS BAR reads the neon sign, but the R has gone out, making it LA S BAR. Which, Barely briefly thought, was almost spanish for ‘the bar’. He shakes his head, trying to get himself back on track. Dunner’s warning still rings in his ears. He knew well enough not to bother most highbloods. But the store clerk had given a similar ominous statement regarding Miss Laryan, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. And Barely had often found that trolls that have something bad to say about everyone often had not much of substance to say at all. Easy to look down on a man out of hive, the rust had reckoned, when you are CEO of a chain company.

Barely entered the bar, the squeaking door announcing his presence. There are a few trolls, but most had the good sense to raise an eyebrow at him. The bartender, and two women at a table stare. The only troll that doesn’t even seem to notice is a hulking mass in a plaid shirt in the corner. Faint music is playing. The teenager swallows, straightening his back, and with all the courage he could muster, walks over to the bar, close up to that huge troll, pulling up a seat. 

“Shirley Temple” Barely says, pointing at the table, in the lowest voice he could muster. “On the rocks. One extra cherry.” He says, sliding a five caegar bill to the bartender. The woman just stares at it. The kid might have imagined it, but he thinks he might have heard the troll in the corner snort. 

“Are ya serious?” Says the bartender plainly. 

“Virgin Shirley Temple” Barely adds, with extra emphasis. “On the rocks. One extra cherry.” he repeats, adding another five caegar bill on top of the first one. “Missus bartender.” 

The heap in the corner laughs. 

“I know how to make a shirley” She huffs. “Mister Grown Up. You wouldn’t happen to have an ID? You know you’re supposedta find two other pupas and a trenchcoat at least, right?” 

The purpleblood in the corner rises from his slumber. 

“Oh, let him have it, Gon.” He laughs. “Kid’s thirsty.” 

Gon stares at Damial, as if, for good reason, her patience with the man was already rather thin. But then looks at the ten caesars, and sighs. She takes the money. 

There goes my lunch, Barely thinks. 

“Woulda thought your name was Lar’s” He enquires, having honestly mistaken the bartender for the owner, simply due to the commanding presence she had over the room. 

“HA!” She laughs, self righteous. “Lars is my moirial. Lazy ass. I do all the work around here. We should change the sign, ya hear? Little man knows it's my bar.” She grins, as if speaking to some imaginary audience. 

Barely smiles in return, only to see the expression fall from Gonnae’s face, as if she had just recalled he wasn’t supposed to be here. 

“But that don’t earn ya no points, oliver twist. I see a single pinky over the counter” She threatens. “You lose the finger. Ya hear me kid?” 

“Loud and clear, Missus Gon,” Says Barely. 

“Uh Oh” The drunk muses, idly stirring a plastic straw in his bourbon. 

“You too, basket case” Gon threatens, flicking the man upside the head. “I see Tiny Tim sneakin’ sips of your four roses I’m kickin’ you out and I MEAN IT I mean it this time” She growls, walking of to go make a shirley. 

“Sureeeeeeeeee” Damial slurs, and then says, to Barely, aside, “She don’t mean it. She loves me. She bought a new horse last week.” He whispers. 

“Some service” Barely jokes, glancing at the prices on the menu board, “For a generous tip.” Perhaps purposefully playing along with Damial to endear himself to the man. The purple cracks up again. Gon re-enters with a Shirley done up all fancy with a squiggly straw and everythin’, and a single extra cherry on a napkin. Barely is glad at the inclusion of the silly straw- it means he doesn’t have to take the necklace out of his mouth. She frowns.

“He’s funny before 2,” The bartender warns, of Damial, setting down Barely’s drink.  “But wait ‘bout three more glasses he gets nasty. Best be outta here by then.” 

She turns to the highblood, “Don’t be messin’ with that kid, Damial. I’m not playin’” She says, before exiting to go help the ladies down the way. 

“I pay your morgageeeeeee Gon” Damial drags out the word as Gon walks away. “You’re compliciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit” He grins, stupid smile not leaving his face as he raises his glass to Barely. 

“L'Chaim” He says, to the rustblood. 

“L’chaim” Barely echos, clinking his shirley with the bourbon. 

The Detective briefly wonders where Damial gets the money, being outta a hive and job and all.

“What’s your name, kid?” 

“Barely Shyeck, Mister” He begins, “I’m a detective-” but the purpleblood is laughing at him again. 

“What on Alternia is a Shyeck” He stumbles. “‘N how can somebody be more er less of it?”

“You’d have to ask my lusus” Barely huffs, having had to have had this conversation about his name with more trolls than he’d prefer. 

“Lemme guess” Damial says, poking the boy’s forehead. “Cowwwwwwww” He says, in a remarkable observation of the kid’s ears, horns and tail. 

Barely swipes at his hand. 

“Wow” he says sarcastically. “Are you sure you’re not the detective Mister Damial?” 

“Soda’s a lot cheaper” Damial says, seeming to have either not heard or ignored the childs sarcasm, glancing at his fruity little drink. “An’ less hassle. Gon’s got a sharp eye, kid. Ya just wasted ten caegers. You ain’t gonna get nothin’ past her.” 

“Well, I didn’t come here for the alcohol” The detective admits. “Actually, Mister Damial, I came here to speak with you.” 

The man frowns. 

“If yer lil’ friends dared ya to pour a drink on me or somethin’, run back out before I change yer name to Barely Alive” He dismisses. 

“That’s not it,” Barely says softly, his tail twitching nervously. Thinking on the best way to approach this. All the best lies have a little bit of truth in them. 

“I was just talkin’ to the clerk down the road, Mister Damial, and he spun me a long yarn about you that didn’t regard you very kindly.” He pauses, made anxious by Damial’s silence. 

“Bein’ an educated young man” He says. “I don’t like formin’ an opinion on a troll til i’ve heard both sides of the story. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear yours.” 

Damial stares at the little guy, as if at a complete loss as to whether to take him seriously. If this was some kind of scheme the neighborhood pupas had fashioned to make fun of him it was a great deal more complicated and psychologically taxing than usual. 

“Ain’t nobody who wants to hear me monologue” He huffs. “Everyone in town knows.” 

“I wanna hear” Barely asserts, scooting his stool closer, attempting to sound confident. “I’m new in town, Mister Damial.” 

“You cared enough to waste ten caesars on it?” He slurs. 

“It’s not like I didn’t get soda and cherries outta the thing.” 

“For one cherry,” Damial jokes. “You can hear the whole thing” 

Barely frowns, gnawing on his necklace, frustrated, having asked for that extra cherry specifically and had been looking forward to it. Begrudgingly, he hands it to the ex dairy farmer, who promptly drops it in his bourbon, which must taste completely awful. 

The older troll sighs. For as much as he had insistantly told this tale to many a more hesitant audience, he felt strangely on the spot having been asked so nicely and by a child no less. There was enough decency left in him that recalled he liked to behave respectfully around pupa’s, if given the chance.  

“I used to know this cowboy down in Baskertop” He says quietly, looking to the side. “Mosta the dairy farmers up hereeeee… hav’a deal with one of the cowpokes for spring. We’ve got all cows- on account of bein’ dairy farms. They’ll ask one of the herders to lend them a bull for a spell, to breed a cow and get her producing more milk, and then come fall either give the too old mama to the ranchers or the bab, usually dependin’ on their gender. Partnership as old as time.” 

“Most farmers and cowpokes also argue and hassle and switch around and bargain and shit. But me and Vekeso didn’t really consider wandering about between traders worth our time and had a good deal of trust in each other and decided we would only ever trade amongst ourselves. Easy to grow fond of a man you only see once a season. We started makin’ a whole thing of it. We’d be havin’ each other over for dinners and drinks and just enjoyin’ each other's company even after business was done. I’ve never been one for quadrants” He says, pausing, and finishing his drink, struggling to articulate. 

“...Made a damn fool of myself a couple times when I was young, and got… scared to try again. Vekeso’s no… socialite in his own right. But eventually I realized I harbored some kind of feelin’s fer him. And most other people in our lives noticed how close we were as well and really seemed ta think I had an honest chance… But I was a coward” Damial stops, his voice cracking, he runs his hand through his hair. He stays still for a moment, before flagging down Gon. “Another one” he calls. “Put it on my tab.” 

The woman walks over, already pulling the bottle off the shelf to refill his drink. 

“What’s the magic word?” She mocks. 

“Ffdsssss…” he stumbles. “I have more caegars.” he jokes.

“Please” she huffs. 

“Please” He repeats, mockingly, sipping his new drink.

“What happened then?” Barely asks quietly. 

The purpleblood shuts his eyes for a moment, and then opens them again. 

“Every season” He says softly, but with a voice layered over with disdain that could only be for himself. “Every season I’d wake up and promise myself this’ll be the sweep I tell ‘em. Easy thing to say. Damn harder to do. I kept playin’ chicken.” He says, hand trembling as it grips that glass. 

“Then the illness came through.” he says. “Wiped out everythin’ in a single perigee. Poof.” He gestures. “Gone. I was fucked. I was panickin’. I started puttin’ all my hopes in that meetin’ coming up with Vekeso. Hoped he’d take pity on me enough to at least lend me a moobeast to get back on my feet…And if not that, at least have a piece of advice. I had never needed a hand to pull me outta a ditch more in my entire life” He says. The regret and moroseness of his previous statement solidifying into a harder anger. 

“What does he do…?” Damial slurs, lifting the glass and downing the rest of it, cherry and all. 

“He never shows.” The man growls. “Not even a warnin’. Not a word. Not an apology. Not an explanation. Just gone. And I’m left here wonderin’, what on heaven and alternia did I do wrong?”

“The townfolk already figured me a little messed in the head, fer turnin’ down a fancy job at Dunner’s damn factory. I don’t wanna supervise nobody. Treatin’ employees and cattle like machines ain’t the way I’ve done dairy, or my ancestor before me, or his ancestor before that. I But I really believed Vekeso smarter than to pay townspeoples muttering any mind. So I wrote him a letter. And maybe it was angry and hurt but so was I. I said everythin’ I wanted to say,” He cursed. 

“And he never deigned this worthy of a reply neither.” He growls, staring daggers at the bar wall. “One more, Gon” he calls. 

The young detective pauses his scribbling, flipping over a few pages of his notepad, back to the night he’d spoken with Vekeso, and stared. He turns his necklace against his teeth. He looks at his writing, and then back at the highblood, who looked ready to throw something. Trying to remember just how many glasses Damial had had now and what was his ratio of funny to nasty according to Gon’s metric. Barely wasn’t above a well placed lie, even a quiet one by omission, but sometimes, it just feels like the truth is owed to somebody, and it seems long, long overdue for Damial. 

“If you’d hear me out, Mister Damial” The child says. “I think I know why.”

The man turns his head to the kid, staring, not with much curiosity but more annoyance as if he could not imagine this to be true. Barely swallows.

“I talked with him just yesterday, Mister.” He says. “Did you know that after the Fleetrail went in, Vekeso and the other cowpokes had been grazin’ on that Redgrass Ranch, the mayor lent to em?” He says, pausing for an answer, and upon getting none, continues. 

“He told me offhand,” Barely says. “That since it was the Mayor’s land, there were all kinds of rules and restrictions on it” he says. “One of them bein’ rules on who you could sell cattle too” He stumbles. 

Damial stares blank eyed at the wall, and Barely begins to ponder if he was even sober enough to comprehend what was being said to him. Suddenly, his face lights up and he throws his glass at the wall with full force. 

“motherFUCKER” the purple raises his voice, “I HOPE HE DIES IN HIS STUPID SHIRT.”and Barely flinches. Gon’s eye’s widen with rage, and she sets down the bottle she’s holding. 

“Out” The woman insists, pointing at the door.

“Fuck off, Gon” The man curses. 

“You have ten seconds” She hisses. “To get out of my bar” 

“Or what?” The purple mocks. 

Slowly, the woman pulls a pistol from her pocket, aiming it squarely at Damial’s head. 

“Ten” She says. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He hisses. 

“Nine” She says.

“I didn’t even throw it AT somebody” says Damial, as if this makes it better somehow. 

“Eight” She growls. 

“Bitch” 

“Seven” the bartender insists. 

Damial stares into her eyes for a moment, and then slowly, raises to his feet, tossing his stool over. 

“FIne” He hisses, storming out of the building. Gon watches to make sure he’s really gone for a moment before lowering her gun. 

“You okay kid?” She asks. 

“Yes Missus Gon” Says Barely, dropping his necklace temporarily and downing the last of his shirley and walking out to follow the highblood.

“Kid!” Gon pleads. “Don’t be an idiot!” She says, but the young man is already gone. 

Damial is sitting on the curb outside. “I fucking hate that bitch” The man is muttering to himself. “He thinks he’s so much better than everyone. If I could kill him, I would.” 

“Vekeso…?” Barely asks slowly. 

“THE MAYOR” Damial snaps back. 

“Don’t Shercattle have a different Mayor than Baskertop?” The kid asks timidly. 

“It’s a fuckin’, muni-cip-pall-ity” Damial slurs. “The three towns are too small, fleet gave us one bastard for all of em. BUT WHO CARES. I’ll kill him. Vekeso too. Who gives a fuck.” 

The child stares, before sitting down next to the much larger man. 

“I’m not sayin’ you did nothin’ wrong, Mister Damial.” He starts. “But did you mention how dire things were up in Shercattle in your letter?”

“No. It wasn’t ‘bout that” The man says, hands gripping his sides, as if restless with the lack of drink in his hand. 

“I’m just tryin’” Barely says. “Too look at this from another pointa view. I didn’t talk with Vekeso for long, but… From what I saw, he really seemed to be a very private person, the kinda troll who thinks long an’ hard on what they’re sayin’ before sayin’ it.” He dares. 

Damial holds himself close. With the tired look in his eyes of a troll who had given a great deal of thought to Vekeso, and all his mannerisms for a long while, and couldn’t argue.

“And somethin’ like some regulation tearin’ apart a friendship he’d had for sweeps, really seems like somethin’ to toil about. I ain’t sayin’ it was right of him to not tell you nothin’. But…” Barely exhales. “You didn’t really give him a lotta chance to give ya any grace, not mentionin’ yer situation in yer letter. He’d have no idea how dire things were. All he’d know is you’re suddenly very very angry with him, and that could easily put a troll off a conversation he mighta already been scared and guilty to be havin’.” 

Damial seems to ponder this for a long while. Staring up at the pinks and greens of the night sky, where, in the distance, impressive storm clouds had started to gather, cutting off the view of the moons with color tinted stripes and clumps that danced across the horizon like a painting. Even a troll as big as he was, could feel small under a view like that. 

“It don’t matter” he says finally, his voice cracking. 

“Vekeso could hand me a hive an’ a cow and farm back on a silver platter. I don’t even know if I could work it” He says, struggling to keep his voice even. 

“Even if he wanted me then- big IF. I’m not the troll I was a sweep ago. What could I even offer a lover, or a friend, even if everythin’ smoothed out with a bow on top. No farm, no hive, no job. Jus’ layin’ in the hole I dug wishin’ I could feel somethin’ again. If there was anything to love about me, it’s long gone.” The purpleblood chokes, staring at his shaking hands. “I’m hardly a troll anymore.” He whispers.

Perhaps this was too much for a troll as young as Barely to handle. But he was nothing if not ambitious. And nothing if not committed to his deep desire to help others. A childlike desperate want for the world to be more fair than it was. A trait Alternia works hard to steal from his children. 

“It’s one thing” Barely says, “To be true to your values when the going is easy, Mister. It’s another when things are hard. A lotta highbloods would jump at an offer like Mister Dunner’s, morals be damned. But you stuck yer feet inta the ground when you had anythin’ and everythin’ to lose. That’s not somethin’ somebody who’s nobody does. I can’t speak for Vekeso” He pauses, standing and offering a hand to the purple who was crouched over the side of the road, blinking back tears. 

“But I think you’re a great deal more offa troll than a lot of people are.” 

Damial shuts his eyes for a moment, and wipes his face, but then slowly, takes the young man's hand and stands up. He struggles to pull himself together for a bit, at a complete loss for what to say, before changing the subject. 

“Where’d you say you were from again, Barely?” He asks. 

“Well, you never asked” The rustblood pauses. “I’ve been makin’ my way up from from Umbra” He admits. 

“Umbra?” The purple repeats. “Are ya serious? How’d a proper little gentleman like you spring from a sinkhole like that.” He retorts. 

“Hey!” Barely says, playfully punching the older man’s side, which probably hurt him less than a mosquito bite. “Be careful how ya talk about my sinkhole.” He warns. 

Damial laughs. “Right. Right. Sorry.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Me n’ my brother owned the place” Barely threatens with extensive hyperbole. “We were cleanin’ it right up.” 

“Sorry. My bad.” He  grins. “Didn’t even ask you what case yer workin’, detective.” Damial realizes. “But thank you kindly for speaking with me. Yer a good kid” He says, his gaze softening as he stares at the child, who beams. 

“I owe you anythin’ for figurin’ that all out?” He asks, referring to the situation with Vekeso, and the reason why he hadn’t showed. 

“Well,” Barely pauses. “Usually, but I know how your money is, Mister Damial” He dismisses. 

“It’s no thing” Damial says, touching his cheek. “One of the cashiers down the road takes pity on me. She keeps sneakin’ me twenties while her boss ain’t around. I could get one for you.” 

Barely freezes, staring down at his notepad, and back at the purple. Processing what Damial has just told him. 

“Really- you don’t have to do that, Mister” he stutters. 

He was a great deal good at solving cases, maybe even too good. But he hadn’t been a detective long, and had not yet run into the conundrum of solving a case that every moral bone in his body did not want to tell his client was solved. His pan tosses and turns over this problem, before he glances at a clock in a shop window, and quickly replaces it with another problem. 

“I’m late” Barely says, paling. 

“What?” Damial frowns, as the kid starts speedwalking down the road. 

“I gotta be at the DunnerMart ten minutes ago, Mister Damial, I’m sorry!” He squeaks. 

“Here” Damial says, picking up the kid and hurrying him along with his own legs, which were longer and faster. They must have made it back to the main street by the train station at no later than 3:13. But as the DunnerMart gets closer,

“Wait!” The boy pleads suddenly to the purpleblood, and he stops. In the distance, he can see Mr. Dunner himself conversing with the fleet sheriff.

“Why, it was two hours ago, I really thought he’d show” Dunner says. “I guess the thief played me like a fiddle, officer. He couldn’t have been older than six. I’m too soft for children.” 

No, Barely thinks. Come on! He wasn’t even fifteen minutes late! He looks further down the way, to where Miss Laryan is sitting at the station working on her crossword. But there was no getting to her without going past DunnerMart. In the distance, a train horn blows. Here was the crossroads. He could turn Damial in right now, and set everything right with the shopkeep. Or… or… what?? What could he do? He could not even think of a second option.

“His red looked rust enough, but honestly, he had a unique set of ears and tail. He coulda been a mutant, but you know, it’s never polite to ask” Dunner grins. 

Barely hears his heart beating in his chest as he stays frozen in Damial’s arms. His ears are pulled flat and back as the child panics. 

“They talkin’ ‘bout you, kid?” Damial frowns, looking at the sheriff, and then the train. 

“The train!” Barely stumbles. “We gotta get on the train! Mister Damial,” He says, gripping his new friend. “Come with me and Miss Laryan to Creekturn” 

“It stops to load for like ten minutes, kid. They’ll just follow you on.” Damial deduces.

“Why” Dunner says, suddenly turning directly to face them in the distance. “That’s him right there” He says to the fleet trolls, who also turn. 

The purpleblood sets him down. “Listen kid” He stumbles. “I’ll distract them, okay? I’ll keep them off the train” He says. “You run to Laryan,” he orders. 

“No!” Barely squeaks. “Come with us, Damial, you’ll get in trouble!” 

“They’ll just follow you on the train!” Damial snaps, raising his voice. “Can’t you piece that together, detective? I gotta distract them, GO!!!” He shouts, and Barely stumbles backwards as the giant purple charges towards the sheriff. He remains dazed for a moment, before, tears leaking from his eyes, Barely sprints off to Laryan.

“Barely-” She stutters. 

“We have to GO” He begs, choking on the words, pulling her towards the train. She seems to catch on quick, and the two of them run and run, not looking back, they go from cabin to cabin to cabin down the train til they must be right next to the engine. Barely curls up in a ball, shutting his eyes and burying his face in his hands, sure that the fleet officials had gotten past Damial and would be barging in after them at any moment. That necklace must be made of something sturdy, the way it doesn’t dent even when his jaw is that clenched. Come on, he pleads, come on, and finally, after what feels like ages, the vehicle lurches into motion. Only then does he open his eyes, catching his breath, scooting close to the window and looking back at Shercattle. 

Damial is still visible at the station, fighting off all three other trolls. They didn’t make it on the train. For a moment, the purpleblood keeps his upper hand, maybe just due to his size, but… he is still drunk. And thus slow, and clumsy, and eventually, he is tackled to the ground, and Barely blinks, hand pressed to the window, as Damial gets smaller and smaller in the distance until he can’t make out the troll at all. 

.

.

.

.

.

A couple hours later, he has calmed down, but not by much. The Detective is frantically sorting through his notes, organizing them on the train by some logic that could not be easily deduced. Miss Laryan is watching the rain throw itself at the window, distant flashes of lightning illuminating the night, thunder echoing over the sound of the train. 

“Barely” She says softly, having been frantically explained the situation, with Dunner, and Damial, and everything, by the frantic child hours prior. 

“Remember when we talked earlier?” She says. “About curses, and you said some of them were plain ol’ chance?” 

“It all fits together somehow!” The child insists, raising his voice. “I know it! I'M SO CLOSE!” he snaps. 

“A cow illness, darling?” She says, resting a hand on the teenager's shoulder. “What else could that be but an act of the Messiahs?”

Barely opens his mouth, and then closes it. 

“I understand,” She says quietly. “How badly you wanna solve this, find the reason for it all, but can it really be worth it to put yourself in so much danger, for somethin’ that might not have an answer at all? Howsa ‘bout we go up to Creekturn, and just send you on your way to the city, baby. I can sort out the mess with people suspectin’ me and Damial myself” 

“Miss-” Barely chokes, “Don’t say that” He stumbles, and doesn’t make it further, burying his head in her shoulder and starting to cry. Laryan wraps her arms around him, rocking him back and forth as she holds him close. 

“Sometimes” She says. “There is no mystery, love. There is no conspiracy. There is no one troll to point at and blame no matter how badly you wish there was. Sometimes bad things happen to good people without any rhyme or reason at all. And there's no point to tearin’ it all apart” She says, rubbing his back. “And this might just be one of those”

Barely does not answer for a moment, his nails dig into Miss Laryan unconsciously as he stares out the window at the violence of the ongoing storm, eyes tight with enough fury to crack glass. He spits out his necklace.

“Not this time” he growls.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Two

I wake up from a nightmare certain that I am dying. There is a rancid taste in my mouth, and before I even open my eyes, the light through my eyelids is too much, too harsh. I open them just a little bit and feel like I’ve been whacked over the head by the floral pattern on the curtains. The bedclothes are far too hot and I feel restricted by them like they’re a pit of snakes that has coiled around all of my limbs, but as soon as I’ve freed myself my stomach lurches. I scramble out of the box room and dash across the landing to the bathroom where I clutch onto the toilet dry heaving but nothing is coming up. I am certain I’ve never felt worse in my life. I lay my cheek on the cold tile of the floor and don’t spare a thought to how disgusting it is to do this. The coolness feels so good against my skin. I must lie there for twenty minutes.

“…and what else? Oh, okay, well I never knew that, that’s actually interesting…” Jude’s voice drifts across the landing. He’s on the phone, probably with Jen because he calls her every day to catch up now that she’s recovering at home with Michelle’s family, and usually I find his voice quite soothing, but now, even through the walls of this bathroom it’s far too loud, searing right through my brain as my head throbs more aggressively than it ever has. I squeeze my eyes closed and let out a pitiful groan. Footsteps approach the door and he knocks so loudly that I feel like my eyeballs will rattle back into my skull. “Evie?”

I groan again. 

“Sorry, Jen, I have to go. I’ll call you back later maybe? Yeah. Okay, take care,” Another knock, “Do you mind if I come in?”

I use all my strength to drag myself up until I’m at least sitting on the floor, my head supported by the wall behind me. “Yes,” I manage. He opens the door. 

“I’m sick,” I announce, “I think I’m going to throw up soon. Eventually.”

“I don’t think so, love,” He gets down on his haunches beside me, “You already puked up the entire contents of your stomach last night, I doubt there’s anything left.”

“I did?”

“You don’t remember?”

I shake my head which makes it feel like my brain is banging around inside my skull. I wince and clutch my forehead, “No, I don’t remember anything.”

“Claire called Shane last night at like three AM, both of you were plastered in a club in Paphos and didn’t know where to go to get a taxi home. He went out and got you himself.”

Little pieces of the night start coming back to me in flashes. The wine event in the vineyard, downing all of my glasses and then what was left of Claire’s. Us dancing around to arabic music in the back of a taxi, shots at the bar, begging the DJ to play Cotton Eye Joe “because it’s funny”, trying to climb onto a table and getting pulled back down by the staff, coloured lights in my eyes and then… nothing. “Christ, I was really drunk,” I say.

“Yes,” Jude says, “You came into my room when you got home, threw a little bag of peach rings at me and said ‘chow down, pretty boy.’”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Then I thought I’d try and put you to bed but you rushed into the toilet and spent a couple of hours throwing up everything.”

“Did you stay with me?”

“Yeah I did.”

The dry little sob that escapes me is pathetic, “That was so nice of you, and I don’t even remember it. I’m so sorry. I bet I was so annoying, I’m the worst drunk, honestly, I get insufferable, I know-”

“Evie, no, you weren’t at all. You were fine, actually, I found you funny.” He takes out his phone and taps around on it for a moment, “You also drunk texted me for the first time, which was a bit of a thrill.”

“What did I say?”

He flips the screen to show me a selfie I took in the nightclub toilets, camera held above my head at a ridiculous angle, pointing right down my top to where I’m shoving my boobs together and making a stupid kissy face. I’ve captioned it ‘Do u like me?’ I catch a glimpse of Jude’s response: ‘No’.

“You said no?”  

“Yeah I thought it’d be a fun joke, ” he shoves the phone back into his pocket and hooks an arm around my back to haul me off the floor. “Come on, I think you’d be better off back in bed for now.” 

“What time is it?”

“Around eleven”

“AM?”

He chuckles, “Of course.” I go almost completely limp and don’t help him at all, but he’s bigger than I am, I know he can manage me. He lifts me easily and tries to get me to walk back to bed, but I feel extra sorry for myself at this moment, sorry enough to ask “Can you carry me?” in my best pathetic voice and he gives me a look like he thinks I’m being cheeky, but without protest he scoops me up into his arms. I bury my face in his neck and grab the opportunity to take a not-so-subtle inhale. He always smells so good and today is no different. Soapy, fresh, clean like a sober morning.

“Are you sniffing me?”

I sob, “I’m dying.”

“You’re just hungover.”

“Can I stay with you?”

“Your bed is a little small for two.”

“In your room then.”

“If you like.” He takes me inside, his suitcase open on the floor with clothes all around it and the bed unmade, crinkled pale blue sheets. He places me down upon them and then draws the curtains across the windows while I snuggle up into his pillows and whimper self-pityingly. Then he comes over and strokes my hair which I wish he wouldn’t because it is greasy and knotted at the back of my head. 

“I’m disgusting,” I say acidly.

“Yes, Evie,” He drawls with a huge eye roll, “You’re foul, how could you get drunk? I’m so put off by you now.”

“I haven’t been this hungover in years.”

“We’ve all been there, you’ll be fine, I just think you should try and hit the reset button by getting back to sleep for a while. I’ll get you some water and maybe some toast?” At the mention of water I suddenly feel like I’ve been traversing the barren Sahara without a drop of it for days. My whole mouth and throat feels as cracked and dusty as a desert floor. 

“Yes, water,” I gasp, and Jude thinks I’m doing a bit instead of being serious, which I can’t blame him for, but I still get annoyed when he imitates me by clutching at his throat and pretending to die. He heads to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, some painkillers, which I swallow with relish, and two slices of plain toast, which I don’t feel ready to eat, and then eventually I fall back asleep while he lounges around at the end of the bed looking at his phone until I wake up again and feel slightly less like passing away. 

“I think I should brush my teeth,” is the first thing I utter, “My breath is awful,” 

“Good idea,” he says, and I try not to be offended by the fact that he didn’t disagree, but all is forgiven as soon as he helps me off the bed and towards the bathroom like he’s afraid my legs will give out underneath me, and even squeezes a dollop of toothpaste onto my toothbrush, which he definitely didn’t need to, because I’m not that bad. 

“You’re being very sweet,” I say through a mouthful of minty foam. 

“I know, it’s weird but you bring it out in me. See, usually I’m horrible.”

“Says the man who feeds stray cats outside his apartment. I think that you like pathetic creatures.”

“That must be it,” He goes over to turn the shower on for me, and when I protest, he insists that I’ll feel better when I’m clean, which, once again, is true, because once I’ve scrubbed last night and this morning from my body and hair I almost feel myself again. When I have dressed myself in a vest and shorts and pulled my damp hair into a knot at the top of my head, I cross the landing back towards Jude’s room and realise that the house is completely silent save for the dim sounds of the Vines he is watching inside. I push through the door. 

“Where are Claire and Shane?”

“They’ve gone to the Adonis Baths.”

I gasp with betrayal. “But we were all supposed to go together.”

“I know, but you weren’t well enough,” He idly pats the bed next to him and I sit down, “You and I can go tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Did they ask you to come with them?”

“Yeah of course.”

“And you said…”

He glances at me, “I said no, I didn’t want to leave you alone when you were sick,” The corner of his mouth ticks up “It’d be a bit shit to sneak away while you were sleeping and have you wake up to an empty house, wouldn’t it?” For some reason this makes me feel like I might start crying. “Eat your toast,” Jude says, and I scramble up the bed to retrieve it, cold now, from the bedside table, and take a small cautionary bite from the corner of one slice. “Isn’t Claire hungover too?” I wonder. 

Jude pauses, his finger hovering over the video he’s looking at before swiping to the next. “No,” He says carefully, “She wasn’t quite as drunk as you were, but obviously that’s okay, it must have just hit you harder for some reason.”

“I’m fairly sure I just went bananas and drank everything in sight because I’m a lunatic, but thanks for trying to make me feel better.” I take another bite of brittle toast, “God, I wish I had, like, a fry-up or something.”

“Yeah? I can cycle to the shops and get you something.”

“No, please, don’t. I’ll be fine, don’t go out of your way for me.”

“If there’s something that’ll make you better…”

It would, but I can’t bear the thought of sending him on a forty minute round trip just to buy some rashers and eggs, mainly because I don’t want him to put himself out on my behalf, but a little part of me really doesn’t want him to leave my side. I insist that he not go, and then we lapse into silence for a while, and he keeps watching videos, and I look at my own phone, ignoring a message from my mother about something she read in the Tullamore Tribune, as if it’s at all relevant to me, and slyly open my message thread with Jude, just so that I can wallow silently in the shame of my drunk messages to him. 

There are more than just one photo, there’s four, just three of them are completely blurry as though I dropped my phone mid selfie. One of them is distinctly the bowl of a sink, droplets of water on ceramic and a bit of my hand in the corner, with a message underneath that’s completely incomprehensible, except for the word ‘baby’. I suddenly have a new thought that makes me become very still. The phone screen fades to black in my hand. 

“Jude?”

“Yes?”

“Did anything happen last night when I came home?”

“I mean, like I said, you burst in here and threw those sweets at me before vomming in the toilet.”

“Yeah, but anything else?”

He frowns, “Um, you went to bed, I suppose?”

“Alright.”

“What are you asking?”

I clear my throat, “Well, no, nothing, like… just in case, you know…” He stares at me for ages, and I start to regret saying a thing. “…did we do anything?”

“When you were drunk?” He says. “Are you asking me if I… if we-”

“Yeah, it’s just because-”

He recoils, “No, Evie, Jesus Christ, of course not.”

I say, “Never mind, it’s not a big deal.”

“Why would that even come into your head?”

I am looking at my phone now, not at anything in particular, just opening apps and closing them again while his eyes are on me with such razor focus that they might as well be searing holes into my skin. “No big deal,” I repeat, “Just wondering,” I don’t understand why he’s acting so shocked. It’s a normal question as far as I’m concerned. 

“I wouldn’t do anything with a drunk girl, that’d be insane. Do you really think that I would?”

“Well, no, but I don’t know, maybe I came in last night and tried to have my way with you or something, it’s whatever. I just know that I can be a bit more flirtatious when I’m drunk, that’s all. Clearly it was a stupid question, so just forget that I asked it.”

There’s a long pause, and I can tell he wants to say something else, but I try to stay very focussed on what I’m doing so that he doesn’t have a window of opportunity to do so. Eventually the atmosphere fades into something much more benign, and we both lodge pillows beneath our heads and tangle our legs together, and he reaches over his head to whip the curtains open wide to let in the light, and we forget that I said anything at all. 

Jude has The Prince of Tides on his bedside table, a corner folded on a page about halfway through, and I read a few paragraphs just to read what he’s been reading, and then skip back to the start to read it for myself. It’s nice being like this, in the silence of this house, completely alone for a rare afternoon with nobody else around, no housemates, no siblings pottering around in other rooms, just us and the birds outside the window, the distant roar of the waves.

“Do you think we should make the most of the day?” I ask Jude eventually, “I feel a bit like I’m trapping you inside when you could be doing something more interesting, especially since you spent yesterday inside too with your thesis, and… did you finish it?”

He smiles, “Yeah it’s done, thank God. You can read it if you like but I promise you that it’s boring.”

“Hmm… maybe later.”

“If you’re in the mood for going outside then yeah, I’d be up for it. You want fresh air?”

“Mm,” I say. “Fresh air, to stretch my legs, maybe just see something on the island that I haven’t seen yet.”

“There’s a vineyard at the top of the hill over there if you feel like trying out some fancy wines,” He teases, and laughs at me when I wince, “I’m joking. How about we get the bikes and go exploring.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[spicyicymeloncat]

Here’s some tweets from Doc Wyatt’s Twitter, answering a question from a fan about the old storylines of Ninjago and their possible inclusion in dragons rising.

The question was:

“Hi Doc, Could Anything that had Wasted Potential Get Some Light in this New Series of Ninjago.

There was More Questions then Answers in the Shows old Show.

#DragonsRising [insert: a picture of Jay’s birth mother]”

Doc’s response was:

“A fair question. As Asa said, we're trying to make a show that new viewers, or kids watching for the first time, can understand without having to know 14 or 15 seasons of lore to follow the story.

But that said, it's also vital we honor the storytelling history that made Ninjago great. So yes, we'll be picking up some story threads from the classic series (no spoilers about which ones).

But we're going to need to build to them. Ninjago is, and always has been, a story that unfolds over time. The first Ninjago saga took 12 years to tell.

I'm not saying Dragons Rising will go for that long (I have no idea how long it will run) but if you don't see your favorite storyline immediately picked up on June 1st (or in fall 23) don't think it never will be. Ninjago is a world, not a single season”

(My own commentary under the cut)

…so essentially it is very possible that old storylines are going to be picked up, or at least, Ninjago is keeping their options open.

The trailers show that dragons rising is already paying homage to much of ninjago’s worldbuilding, with the inclusions/mentions/cameos of:

The realm of madness from season 1

The cloud kingdom from season 5

Various races (who have now fully integrated into ninjago’s general public) such as the hypnobrai (s1), whack rats (12), geckles and munce (13), merlopians (Seabound) and possibly nindroids

Ghosts from the departed realm have also been seen in the Lego sets

The concept of Elemental masters is acknowledged

All I’m saying is that there are so many more opportunities to touch upon past story beats, since every area of Ninjago is easily accessible now. That means the first realm, the never realm, the cursed realm, the underworld, djinnjago - they’re all revisitable!

And personally I would be willing to wait 12 years if it means the writers can come up with a good way of reintroducing any of the old concepts. I don’t wanna get my hopes up but just think of the possibilities!

[katthyacinth]

✨Trust Exercises!✨

Hi! This is a fic that I had on Ao3 its just a small scenario where you yes u reader pitch Charlie a great idea for a hotel bonding activity. no romance or anything just a fun scene.

“And you never make me do anything with this lousy picture box again, this face was made for radio darling” You hear Alastor say to Vaggie as you catch the ending of their conversation that you were totally not paying attention to, although what he said made you have a thought. “Wait I just realized that means have you never played a video game Alastor?” you vocalize immediately as the thought leaves your mind. He and Vaggie turn to you lying on the couch on your phone, realizing they forgot you were there. “No darling that sounds like an awful experience since games should be fun and nothing concerning this piece of junk ever is,” he says whacking the side of the old TV. You make a face and sigh “Too bad I feel like you would love some of them, I'm trying to determine whether you'd be more of an fps guy or an RPG guy but I think an fps would be too complex for you to start on…” you pause rambling to yourself. Maybe something 8-bit because those are more old school, well to my time, like oh-” you shoot up from your seat your eyes almost sparkling as a great idea pops in your brain. Vaggie makes a concerned face as you stand up and dart out of the room. “I'M GONNA GET CHARLIE OMG THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT!”

You run through the hotel and find hells Princess doing… well actually you don't really know what she does on her off time but she answers her door to you panting and rambling kinda like how she does from time to time “wait wait slow down, omg is this how I sound? Wow Im sooo sorry but start again” she says chuckling slightly. You start over “ok so I was thinking an activity everyone could do is play video games, I loved them when I was alive and I thought about it because I realized they didn't exist when a lot of our group was alive and I think thats sad and their missing out.” you quickly blurt and take a breath to then continue your ramble. “I thought it might also be good for rehabilitation because we have games where there's horror and shooters and gore so people can indulge without like actually hurting people you know! Like I could go and get beginner-level games for everyone for their interests I think it would be great!” you finally finish taking a breath. You beam at Charlie expectantly as she processes your information and you slowly see her eye sparkle too. “That… sounds… like.. A GREAT IDEA WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR LETS GO!”

A few hours go by of you finding out how video games work in hell because as you forgot it's not one-to-one with Earth but after hours of aggressive keyboard typing noises you call everyone over. You stand in front of everyone in the lobby with Charlie as she explains what you explained to her as you antsy twiddle your thumbs as she ends with any questions. To which Alastor responds “I thought I made it clear I want nothing to do with your silly technology and TVs” he hisses “Well technically you're not going to be needing a TV and I think you’ll like the game so please everyone try for at least one hour and you can stop but I think you'll be hooked!” you state confidently “well then letssss do it! I'm exssssited!” Pentious states making you squeal. You walk over to him and hand him a phone, you had made sure to make the games easy for some of the less tech-savvy guests. “It's called Oppositions and Overlords, you tap the screen with your finger and you make your own battalion and fight other armies, you make whatever battle tactics you like!” you take a second to tap around and show him how to do it, it takes him a second and then you move to nifty. “Nifty it's called Community of Lambs and-” As you explain you realize she isn't picking up anything so you simplify “This button moves, this button stabs” She lights up snatching the controller from you as you sigh.

You proceed to show Charlie and Vaggie a game called pentagram valley that they play together and Husk a spooky card game called Engraving and Angel a dating sim called “Submit to me” which you open for him and he immediately whistles and shouts “Oh hello babes'' to which you giggle and suck in a breath to head over to Alastor at last, now this one was tricky. You needed something easy so that he wouldn't get frustrated. “Ok Alastor are you actually going to participate?” you ask meekly holding your laptop in your hands. He gives a small sigh and chuckles “Well my dear if you put all this effort in I suppose I will give it a shot then but I will not promise that your little screen will remain intact later.” you sigh, “ok then so it's called the underground fable. I loved the version of it while I was alive. It was actually revolutionary for games. There's multiple stories you can choose from. You're going to drag this to move and press here to do all the actions two buttons ok. There are two options which is save everyone or kill everyone and it's very sick and twisted when you kill everyone so I think you’ll like it ok and yeah I checked its very similar if not even creepier than what I played umm, yeah I cried anyway, have fun or not I one hour ok!” you ramble to him explaining. You really wanted to try your best to make him like this activity. Looking at his expression you couldn't really tell, well it was always hard because he never stops smiling. You stop trying to dissect his thoughts and slowly back away.

An hour passes and an alarm rings in your headphones. You begin to speak but then stop yourself as you look around and see that everyone is very much enjoying their games. Nifty is kicking her feet while lying on the floor yelling “Stab stab! Blood blood!” Pentious is mumbling something about glory and noble sacrifices or something saluting to himself in the corner. You're actually impressed when you see Vaggie and Charlie have made quite a pretty house and are raising a pact of hell goats on an impressively large farm. You then look at Alastor, inspecting him still not sure what he's thinking. You think you should probably tell him time is up or you think he might cut off your head for letting him be near modern tech for 10 seconds longer than he needed to. However, to your surprise and delight? When you walk up behind him you hear him chuckling slightly. “Alastor? Times up by the way you don't need to play anymore.” he turns to you slightly “Oh well then my dear I guess you're right look at the time a whole hour haha! How time flies!” he chuckles. “Although I would not like to admit you may have been right, seeing these little creatures explode into bits of dust is quite entertaining, and they yell at me too and plead as if they have any power over me it's quite hilarity” he chuckles darkly sending a chill down your spine. “Well, I never thought I'd see the day when The radio demon himself called modern technology entertaining! I think I have just won at life, well afterlife” you muse to yourself proudly “Haha yes dear I guess it seems so however, I think you should keep that one to yourself okay? A secret, my dear this information must not leave the hotel.” static fills the air as his eyes turn to dials, you know you should be intimidated but you chuckle.

“Ok, Alastor you got it it would be a scandal if you were caught cheating on the radio with video games oh the horror! GASP! The world would simply end” you chuckle sarcasm oozing from you. “Ha Ha funny my dear, now if you would be so kind I am keeping this device of yours to continue to slaughter these fish people” he muses chuckling darkly. A little sadistic you think but hey, you won they were all still playing. What did Charlie call it? A happy day in hell.

[redwolfstabs]

Hey Billy

First off in Resident Evil: Afterlife somehow Wesker is using and holding TWO FUCKING DESERT EAGLES. That seems a bit problematic to me a little bit but you know movie magic right?

Now for the actual question.

If we were in a zombie apocalypse what guns would you use? How would you suit up in a situation like that if you were in let's say The Last of Us, Walking Dead, and Resident Evil kind of situation? Okay maybe not those exact choices maybe start off gentle and scary like The Last of Us.

MOVIE MAGIC IS SO WHACK. T W O DESERT EAGLES??? Jfc, good luck doing that irl.

Anywho-

This will probably be a long post.. whoops but here we are.

STARTING WITH The Last of Us bc currently, in love with that game so it’s fresh in my head:

WEAPONS:

• first things first, some kind of switch blade or, ofc, trusty butterfly knife. Reason being: you’re gonna need a knife or two, you can’t really go in guns blazing all the time, especially for the fckn clickers.

• Pistols: I’d choose a nice classic Colt 1911 pistol. Reason being is quite simple. It’s very popular and has been for a while, John browning gun, 9mm which I find snazzy, low recoil, can be made withhhhh.. polyester I think? Which makes the carryweight good. DOWNSIDE: it can roughly hold 8-10 rounds in the mag, which depending on the situation could be really good or really bad.

Another neat pistol I’d choose would probably be FN Five-seveN. The ammunition is a 5.7x28mm…? 26? 28? One of those- anyways it’s known for its low recoil but good penetration skills. 20 rounds ‼️ The pistol has a Picatinny rail on the lower frame for mounting accessories such as lights, lasers, or red dot sights which would probably be good for certain situations.

• Rifles: I think I would keep at least two rifles on my person- yes they’re big BUT rifles. One that I, for sure, would choose would be the Mossberg 464. Reasons: ITS A LEVER-ACTION. It’s a snazzy gun, good for long distance and such. Not to mention, I just.. I have a problem BSHSJDJEJ. unfortunately, it does only hold 6 rounds but that’s okay bc it’s worth it.

Another Rifle would be the FN SCAR. Reasons: It's a gas-operated, short-stroke piston system, which is known for its reliability and reduced recoil, usually holds 30 rounds, quick change barrel system- over all? I think it would be pretty good against clickers

• Shotguns: LEVER ACTION SHOTGUN. Reasons? ....It's a lever action shot gun man, that's all tbh- one downside is how it only has roughly 6 shots but that's okay bc mmmm lever action.

• How I would suit up: If I'm not experienced and it's just happening, I would be that idiot wearing hoodies and converses and jeans. I have emotional attachments to my jeans fgjakfgdafh

• However If I am experienced and I know what I'm doing: I would probably wear lighter clothes, like a t-shirt and probably still my jeans, because jeans actually would protect me alot- and if I could find some, I would also wear body armor. I would most likely have a good book bag to fit all my shit in like medical supplies, food, water- all of that snazzy shit.

The Walking Dead:

So for this I would take a much much different approach. I would own ONLY two guns, since the noise can draw herds towards you.

• I would have a fckn SEXC Colt Python revolver. [Think rick Grimes- his gun.] Reason: It's a fucking BEAUTIFUL gun, its a .357 magnum so it's got a kick to it and its GOOD. I would use it for emergency use. The second gun I would use would most likely also just be the silly 1911.

• As for more silent weapons, I would use a crossbow. Probably a compound crossbow tbh- Because the mechanical advantage provided by the cam and cable system, along with the increased arrow speed, contributes to the accuracy of compound crossbows- So it's rather very very fast and effective.

Suit up:

If I'm just starting out I would become a hermit. Stay inside with my shit until I run out and need to go get supplies. However If I'm used to everything, I think I would suit up in a similar way as I would in tlou, simply because that, to me, is the simpliest and best way to suit up.

Now I would LOVE to do this for resident evil but, alas, I do not know that game the best. However if I ever get around to watching a gameplay of it, I'll most likely make a post and tag you :)

Thanks for this ask btw!! I love talking about "What if" Situations fgejkgfeakfuy