#also: this is probably not worded as clearly as it could be

[nanenna]

Jeez Louise This is a Mess

Sleepy King (Nenna edition) Master Post

Apologies in advance, I'm not very familiar with John Constantine, trying to do anything from his perspective is definitely an unwise decision. I have chosen it anyway. He's almost definitely OOC.

---

John watched the Fentons and the mayor just saunter through the brand new hole in the mayor’s wall like this was just a normal Friday for them. Considering how weird the town was as a whole, it probably was. And he meant that by the old meaning of the word and as literal as one could possibly interpret it. He’d never been anywhere where the veil was so thin over such a large area, with æther so thick in the air of course it was affecting the locals. Probably had something to do with whoever or whatever had cloaked the whole town.

John turned to Tall Dark and Broody, “So, what happened to all the bugs and trackers you put on them originally?”

Batsy frowned, “Danny’s are still in the Fenton residence, expected since he clearly changed his clothes. His parents’ trackers and bugs all went offline not long after arriving home, the ones I placed inside the residence are malfunctioning.”

“And that’s not the least bit suspicious?” John asked.

“It’s incredibly suspicious,” Batsy said with a completely straight face before turning and also walking right out the brand new hole. “I suggest you actually use the comm I gave you earlier, they’re explaining the situation to Masters.”

Unfortunately Mr. Gargles Gravel for Breakfast had a point, John sighed and did put in the comm, though he knew it would be spotty with the use of magic to follow the group. Batsy and Wonder Woman could follow however they liked, John did not have the energy for that.

The comms were staticky, cutting in and out even without John’s abuse of the thin veil to quick step around town. Not surprising, the amount of pure death magic radiating off the two dead-alive people in that tank would be enough to mess with most electronics even if the veil weren’t practically non-existent.

“Somehow this place feels cozy,” Boston commented as he followed John.

“You would think so.”

The conversation on the comm was getting worse, the bugs were clearly slowly giving up the ghost. John only caught a few words here and there, and those were only because they were Ghost Speak, something that shouldn’t be possible for flesh and blood mouths to speak. It’s just bits and pieces, names and titles mostly, but if he’s understanding this right…

“Huh, that may change the situation a bit.”

“What are you going on about?” Boston asked.

“It sounds like Pariah isn’t the Ghost King anymore. But Batsy’s bugs are losing the war against æther, so when we get there you’re gonna need to go spy on them.”

“Will that work?”

“Try to keep out of sight, but even if you get caught the worst they’ll do is kick you out. Undead solidarity.”

Boston grumbled, but when John met back up with Batsy and Wonder Woman staring through a window right to where the group was talking, Boston did as he was asked and slipped right through the wall and inside. John cast a quick spell to spy through Boston.

Boston floated slowly into the room, seemingly becoming braver as the Fentons looked right past him without reacting. Unfortunately, he got a little too close to the one person in the room that could definitely see him. The kid jumped out of his seat in surprise.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” The kid whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at Boston. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

“Oh, you can see me? And ghost sense?”

“You don't know who I am?”

“Uh… Daniel Fenton?”

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“How about you tell me your name first?”

“I’m Deadman.”

The kid burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?” The sister asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked to his older sister, then back to Boston. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

The Fentons all shook their heads.

The creepy mayor came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

“I’m Deadman and I’m uh… lost?”

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” the kid added. He turned back to Boston, “Are you even a ghost?”

Batman, who’d spent the last few minutes getting into the perfect position while he waited for the most dramatic moment chose then to crash through the window. John started cursing as he rushed to climb in after the loon, already prepping a spell. The moment he had a clear line of sight he shot off the revelation spell at the kid.

It did… well not much.

Really about all it did was give the kid a couple extra accessories. He expected them, but he also expected it to somehow reveal the kid’s undead status too. Make him look all glowy and ghostly like he had when he’d first arrived last night, because John was pretty sure the kid hadn’t been kidnapped after all. Or at least not how they originally assumed, he was pretty sure some spirits considered an unwilling summons a kidnapping.

Still, there the crown was. Just floating over the kid’s head, toxic green æther flames around it like a death energy aurora. And like any teenager the kid seemed completely oblivious, having to be told the crown was even there. Once he got a hand on it though he said something odd, “Okay, crown retrieved.”

John just tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting to see what they were doing. Why did they think they needed to find the crown?

“We may have a problem,” The creepy mayor said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” The kid looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in the creeper’s. “Why are there two?”

And, well, John agreed. Why the fuck were there two? He already started muttering an identification spell as the kid turned to him.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything,” John protested, “that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” The kid’s mom said while glaring at the him.

Of course things got dicey after that, the kid and the creepy mayor got into a fight over the second crown, things turned into a right mess, and John was quite content to let them squabble among themselves. He moved to go stand next to Batsy and Wonder Woman, Boston with him, waiting to see how this went.

Of course the tussle then turned into fighting over the ring on the kid’s finger, still blaming John for just revealing the crown and ring the kid had apparently had this whole time.

“Alright, that’s enough. Shut up!” John may have put a bit of intent into that, and it worked beautifully. The whole group stopped and stared at him, finally shutting up. The parents managed to get between the kid and the creeper, each one still with one of the crowns.

The crowns he now knew were both, somehow, legitimate.

John pointed at the kid, “Just call the crown, it’ll listen.”

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh sure, I’ll just,” he hunched forward a little bit, clapped his hands, and whistled like he was calling a dog, “here Crowny, Crowny, Crowny.”

For a brief moment nothing happened, then the creeper mayor jerked forward as the crown yanked itself from his hand. It went to go join the other crown floating over the kid’s head, one of them grew wider so the other could nestle inside it, both spinning in place but in opposite directions.

Everyone was staring at the display.

“What uh… what are they doing?” The kid asked nervously.

“They… like each other?” The sister asked skeptically.

“Great, wonderful, fabulous, just what I need in my life.” The kid sighed and turned to glare at John. “What. Did. You. DO?!”

“I didn’t do shit,” John replied, much to the parents’ combined horror. “Looks like somehow they’re both legit, my best guess is one of them isn’t from this timeline.”

“Oh,” the sister said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Nasty Burger explosion happened after the fight with the king, right?”

“The what?” the kid’s parents asked.

“Oh,” the kid responded, “I’m starting to see why the council of eyeballs hates my guts.”

And wasn’t that a concerning sentence. John desperately needed a drink, thankfully he had a flask on him and chose that moment to take a swig. “Alright, so there should be a second ring too, no point leaving that on Dark’s finger in case he gets out again.”

“Vlad did it,” the kid said while pointing at the creeper.

“Excuse me!” Creeper actually put a hand to his neck, like some fainting Victorian lady.

“Vlad tried to steal the ring and crown, so he let Dark out of the sarcophagus and I had to go clean up his mess, like always.” The kid glared at the creeper, it was starting to paint a really concerning picture.

“I’m sure Vladdie was just trying to keep these powerful artifacts safe,” the kid’s dad said loudly and happily. Yeah, there was the concerning picture again.

“I’d believe it if all he took was the ring, but the crown was safely sealed away with Pariah and he let the guy out to steal it.”

“Just call the ring,” John said gruffly.

“Here Ragey, Ragey, Ragey.” The kid whistled and clapped his hands again. The ring showing up on the kid’s other hand was expected, the glowing green hell hound that came sprinting through the wall and practically tackled the kid wasn’t. “Cujo! Hi! Who’s a good puppy?!”

Keeriest, John needed a stiffer drink.

[lunaritex]

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ LOVE HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT 𖤐. — yang jungwon.

pairing: idol! jungwon x fem! reader. content: idol au, childhood friends to lovers, reader is female, reader is not an idol here, reader got stood up (not by jungwon), confession, fluff. wc: 1.7k

FROM HYE: childhood friends to lovers troupe will always hit idc!!! idk why this became kinda long though, whoops... ALSO NO DOUBT AND DAYDREAM IS SO GOOD IM ASCENDING

This cannot be happening. 

You sighed for the unknown time, leaning back in your seat as you tapped your phone. The screen lit up upon your brief contact but as always, there was no new notification from your boyfriend. Nearly an hour had passed and you were sure your current state was gathering unwanted pitiful glances thrown your way. You knew what they were thinking. In their eyes, they saw a dressed-up young adult, excited for her date with her boyfriend, only to get stood up and had been hopelessly waiting there, like a complete fool. 

You finished the drink and decided to leave, having waited long enough. You stepped out of the cafe, the door gently closing behind you as you pulled out your phone to call the first person you thought of. It only took two rings before the intended receiver picked up. 

“Hello? (Name), aren’t you supposed to be on a date with Sungjin?” Jungwon asked, concern evident in his voice. His questions put a smile on your face, probably at the fact that he knows your schedule for the day, despite how he was in the midst of practice when you heard music coming from his background on the other line. 

Your prolonged silence was starting to scare the idol, who had stepped out of the practice room after signaling to his members that he was on a call. Jungwon frowns when his ears register the poorly stifled sounds of you sobbing. Hearing you breaking down is similar to getting shot in the heart. 

“(Name), what’s wrong? You know you can talk to me,” he continued in a soft and assuring tone. 

“I… I got stood up. I waited there for an hour and Sungjin didn’t turned up, making me look like a fucking idiot,” you replied through your tears, letting out a bitter chuckle. 

Jungwon's grip on his phone tightened as he listened to you, his jaw clenching when he realized the pain in your voice. The news hit him like a blow: once again, you have been left standing alone, waiting for someone who clearly did not deserve you. His eyes darkened, a storm of anger brewing in them.

“Wait,” he interrupted, his voice low but seething. “He… stood you up? Again?”

You let out a sigh on the other end, trying to laugh it off, but Jungwon could hear the hurt behind it. That was all it took. He took the stairs instead of the lift, stepping out of the company. His sudden disappearance will surely cause his manager to be worried and how he had forgotten his mask would make the situation even worse. But none of that matters when it comes to you. 

“Where are you?” he demanded, his tone softening just a bit when he spoke to you. But there was an undeniable edge to his words, a mix of frustration and protectiveness that seeped through.

"Jungwon, you don’t have to—"

“Just tell me,” he insisted, his voice firm but reassuring. “I need to know where you are. I’m coming to you.”

“...I’m at the park we played at when we were kids,” you replied, knowing your childhood friend is very persistent when the times required him to be. 

Somehow, your feet had led you to the place where you had created countless memories with Jungwon. You took a seat on one of the nearest benches, watching as people of all ages minded their business. Some were having fun with their children or partners. There were children running around the playground area, screaming at the top of their lungs as they chased one another. The sight made your heart soften, as you remembered how you and Jungwon were just like them; having the time of your lives before the harsh reality of life combined with responsibilities had taken over you. 

“(Name)!” 

You turned at the shout of your name, eyes widening in pure disbelief at the sight of Jungwon rushing towards you without a care in the world. What rendered you speechless was how he had forgotten to hide his identity, resulting in the public stopping to openly gape at him. Some had even pulled out their phones to record him, ready to post it on the Internet. Flustered, you stood up, grabbed his hand and dragged him to your home. 

When the both of you are in the privacy of your home, you turned and smacked him on his head. 

“Ow! What was that for!?” He yelped, rubbing the spot with his hand. 

“You idiot! Why did you run out in the midst of practice, and without a hat or a mask too!? What’s going to happen if your manager hears you ditch practice!” You scolded him, resembling a mother scolding her child. 

“Alright, I’m sorry! The thought might have slipped my mind when I heard you were crying,” he admits with a sheepish grin on his face, lowering his hand. 

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Look, it’s fine. You didn’t have to come all the way here. I’m sure Sungjin’s probably busy with work and he had forgotten to text me.” 

Jungwon gave you an unreadable look. “You’re always making excuses for him.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he tried to rein in his emotions. 

“Tell me, has he done anything good for you in this relationship? Has he ever gone out of his way to make you feel loved, or even just… appreciated?”

You were silent, and he took this as a chance to continue. 

“But what about you? You deserve someone who’d show up without a second thought, someone who’d want to be with you, not leave you hanging like this,” Jungwon continued. 

You opened and closed your mouth. “I—” 

He exhaled sharply. “You don’t get it, do you?” He said, his voice softer but laced with pure honesty that made your heart race. “I’ve been here, right by your side, through all of it. I’ve watched you get your heart broken over and over… and every time, I keep hoping you’ll see what’s right in front of you.” 

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. 

“I can’t stand seeing you hurt anymore,” he whispered, his eyes glistening as he held your gaze. “Because I love you. And I would never leave you waiting, not even for a second.”

“Jungwon, I…” You struggled to find the words, feeling a mix of shock and confusion. “You’ve… always been there. I just—”

“You didn’t know,” he finished softly, looking down for a moment, a faint sadness in his eyes. “I know. I never wanted to push you or complicate things. I just wanted you to be happy.” He paused, swallowing hard, his voice lowering. 

“But seeing you go through this again, seeing someone else treat you like you’re disposable, when I know you’re anything but… I can’t keep quiet anymore.”

Your chest tightened, a wave of emotions you had not expected crashing over you. All those times he had offered a shoulder to cry on, the countless moments had picked you up when you were at your lowest—had they all been laced with feelings you’d missed? Slowly, you reached out, placing your hand over his. His fingers were tense beneath yours, but at your touch, he glanced up, searching your face with an expression that was both hopeful and terrified.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He looked at you, his eyes raw with vulnerability. “Because I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to risk our friendship over something I could never take back.” His hand turned under yours, holding it gently as he continued. “But now… I can’t pretend anymore. You deserve someone who’s there, through every high and low, someone who sees you for who you are.”

The words touched something deep within you, warming your heart in a way you hadn’t expected. As you looked into his eyes, the realization hit you like a flood—Jungwon had been that someone all along.

With a breath, you leaned closer, feeling a sense of clarity for the first time. “Maybe I’ve been blind,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But now… I see you.”

A spark of hope flickered in his eyes, and without another word, he closed the distance, his forehead resting gently against yours. You saw how his eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment. He was about to lean in when the moment was rudely interrupted by your phone ringing, causing you to pull away. Your face felt when you recognized the number. You were about to reject the call when Jungwon snatched the device out of your hand, accepted the call and put it on speaker mode. 

“What are you doing!?” You hissed, but he merely shushed you. 

“Hello, (Name)? Oh my god, I’m so sorry I missed out on our date. Are you still there? If you want, I’m free now and we can have dinner together if you want,” Sungjin’s frantic voice echoed throughout your apartment. 

“Sungjin, is it? Sorry but your relationship with her is officially over. I’ll greatly appreciate it if you could leave her alone,” Jungwon nonchalantly replied, his thumb drawing circles on your knuckles. 

“...Who is this? And what’s your relationship with my girlfriend?” Sungjin’s voice turned cold but Jungwon was unfazed, turning to face you with a wide grin on his face. 

“Me? I’m her new boyfriend and now if you could excuse us, we have a date to tend to, goodbye and see you never.” 

“Wait—” 

And just like that, Jungwon ended the call. He had even blocked his number, preventing your now ex from calling you anymore. You, on the other hand, burst out laughing. Jungwon puffed his cheeks. 

“What’s so funny?” He pouts. 

“N-Nothing, I didn’t expect the leader of ENHYPEN to be this bold, but since when we’re going on a date and since when you’re my boyfriend? I think you have skipped a few steps,” you teased him once you had calmed down. 

Jungwon’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Then (Name), would you do me the honors of being my girlfriend?” 

Chuckling, you moved closer to press a chaste kiss on his lips. “Of course, Jungwon. I’d be more than happy to do so.” 

He made a noise of happiness before engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug, to which you returned the gesture. “You have no idea how happy I am right now.” 

“And what’s the reason?” You inquired when he pulled away to admire your face. 

Jungwon’s features softened as he cups your cheeks. “It’s because I finally got the prettiest girl and I can finally call her mine.” 

[ailurinae]

The Linux desktop is a disaster right now. It was overall in a better state in 2008 TBH.

Wayland is clearly the future and the better option overall, Xorg is getting bare minimal maintenance, but right now the only real options for Wayland are barebones ones like Sway, which need things like menus, taskbars, notifications set up independently, or KDE or Gnome which are truly obnoxiously large and heavy. KDE in the Plasma era also has an obnoxious amout of churn in libraries.

Aside from X11/Wayland issues, we are also in the pulseaudio/pipewire transition, though that should be rather faster and easier. There is also the mess of flatpak/snap/appimage. There are theoretically some benefits of that style, but all of them have major issues, plus the fragmented landscape between the three of them.

And last but not least, the ongoing move to the "portal" system, which again can have theoretical benefits for functionality and permissions, but right now the transition is pretty rough.

I honestly wouldn't recommend the Linux desktop to basically anyone right now. The one exception might be for people with super minimal needs and skills on the computer, who have family who can set it up and fix it for them. People who just do email, some web browsing, video, maybe some Word/Excel (if they can use Libre Office instead or use Wine for MS office)

Games are probably the best they have ever been on Linux, with Valve's investment, but the rest of the desktop experience is just too obnoxious right now IMO. So I just keep going with cleaned up Windows 10, and WSL and VMs

(I used Linux as my primary desktop for over a decade, from about 2002-2014ish I think? I used KDE and various lightweight window managers, including tiling WMs. I could do the full setup needed for getting all components working together for Sway or others, but I simply no longer care to)

I hate to be the annoying person who recommends Linux to everyone but like... how could you not switch to Linux at this point.

[dindjarindiaries]

The Unstoppable Tide

summary: Once Hunter finally let go, there was no holding back, and you were the only person who could keep him from drowning.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x reader

tags: hurt/comfort, angst and fluff, trauma, mentions of physical torture, injuries, nightmares, anxiety attack, canon compliant (tech doesn’t live), mentions of death

rating: T

word count: 4.627k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You woke to an unfamiliar room, and the pitch black shadows that blanketed it were no help in trying to investigate your surroundings. With a silent yawn, you blinked into the darkness, lifting your head from the pillow as you did so. The movement stretched the fabric of your tunic uncomfortably, and looking down, you fell upon an odd realization.

You were still in your clothes from yesterday. You frowned and attempted to jog your tired memory. Your faithfulness to your nighttime routine was rarely ever interrupted or deterred, especially since you had all returned to Pabu for good.

Then again, it had been a whirlwind of a week. From losing Omega again to getting her back and taking up permanent residence on Pabu, there were a lot of things the group was sorting through, yourself included. It was no wonder why you had been too exhausted to even exchange your clothes.

But that still didn’t explain the unfamiliar room. One glance at your surroundings was all it took, because now that your eyes had adjusted, you could finally see the silhouette positioned at the end of the bed you were currently lying in.

Your eyes widened as the memory washed over you. This was Hunter’s room, and you certainly hadn’t meant to fall asleep inside of it.

You had been helping him rebandage the wounds on his side, a nicely-healing gash that covered his broken ribs from the hit he took in an explosion on Tantiss. That alone had taken a lot of convincing; Hunter’s defenses had somewhat fallen after you had all brought Omega back to Pabu safely, but they went right back up once he had gotten a wink of rest.

As you finished wrapping him up, you had started to gently lecture him on the importance of getting more sleep, as he had clearly been avoiding it ever since that first night back. The circles under his eyes were almost as dark as the left side of his ribcage, where his wounds were. At some point, however, Hunter had fallen asleep during your lecture, and you had let yourself linger, if only to share a peacefully quiet moment with him.

You must have also joined him in slumber. It didn’t have to be a bad thing, not at all as far as you were concerned, but Hunter was in too fragile of a state for you to be overstaying welcomes—and the fact he had his back to you now was even more worrying.

Hunter wasn’t even reacting to the fact that your heartbeat had clearly picked up ever since you woke, and that alone promised that something very, very wrong was happening with him. He wasn’t listening to his powerful senses. He was listening to something else.

You dared to sit up as you held a breath in your chest. He was hunched over slightly, as if he was leaning on something, and he was still without a tunic, thanks to the fresh bandage on his side. Otherwise, he was completely still, making him look like one of the other many shadows scattered throughout the room.

You managed to swallow around the lump in your throat and moved forward. Once you got closer to him, you hesitated, taking in what you could from this distance. He had one arm crossed over himself, and the other was leaning against it as he pinched the bridge of his nose—a typical position when his senses were in disarray, or when the weight of the galaxy was simply too much.

In this case, it was probably both, judging by the deep furrow in his brow.

You finally sat at Hunter’s side, letting your legs hang off the edge of the bed as you looked over at him. His eyes were still shut tight, and like before, he remained unmoving. You dared to lift your hand to his bare shoulder, touching the warmth of his skin with as much delicacy as you could manage.

“Hey.”

Your voice was a mere whisper to avoid shocking him and his senses. You resisted the urge to flinch when Hunter lowered his hand enough to turn his head towards you. His dark eyes widened just a bit more than usual.

“You okay?”

Hunter’s lips parted as if he was about to respond, but nothing came out. His shoulder rose and fell under your touch with the unsteady breath he took. You grimaced at the sound of it, a gesture that only deepened when Hunter lifted his hand to ease yours off of him.

“I’m sorry,” the guilt began pouring in waves, “I should’ve asked you before I—.”

“It’s fine.”

Hunter’s voice was curt and rougher than usual as he spoke. You really did flinch that time, unused to hearing him speak like that. Still, there was a softness in the way he eased your hand onto your own leg before letting go.

“Just… go back to your bed.” He lifted his fingers to his nose again and pinched it even tighter, his eyes soon following suit.

You sat there, undecided, for a few long heartbeats. You folded your hands together in your lap and dared to speak up again. “Hunter…”

“Don’t.” Hunter tensed more than he had before, which was visible without a tunic to conceal the muscles on his upper half. His eyes squeezed even harder, as did his brow. “Please, just leave and get some rest.”

But that was the last thing you wanted to do, knowing he was in such a state. You could see that he had started to tremble, something that was evident not just in his hands, but also in his voice—and his breathing, which was only getting more and more labored. Hunter was trying to hide it, but it was clearly becoming too much to control.

And he wanted you to leave him to deal with it on his own.

“I’ll be fine.” You nodded and leaned closer to him. “You don’t have to be alone right now. Let me help you.”

Something in your words made Hunter snap. He turned towards you even more quickly than last time, his words biting through gritted teeth. “Leave.”

You stared back at him in disbelief, though you had at least leaned back in surprise at the quick motion. Hunter let out an exhale that was nearly a gasp, as if he was losing air. His gaze couldn’t meet yours as he instead focused on the floor, his chest now rising and falling more rapidly than before.

“Please...”

Hunter once again wrapped an arm around himself and leaned the other against it, though this time, he tightened his hand into a fist and rested his forehead against it. He was so tense that every muscle you could see was pulled taut, which certainly wouldn’t bode well for his injuries.

“Please make this easier for me, and leave.”

Your eyes were burning with unshed tears when he finally went silent again. You weren’t sure if they were from the hurt he was causing you by pushing you away like this or from the intense concern and sympathy you had for him. Either way, you weren’t going to ignore his request again, not when he was already millimeters away from fracturing in a way you had never witnessed before.

You rose from the bed and eased yourself over to the door, only pausing again when you were standing directly across from it. You spared a look at Hunter over your shoulder. His face was in his hands, as if he was just waiting for your heartbeat to fade before letting himself shatter. You closed your eyes and forced yourself to step forward through the sliding door, though you remained glued in place when it shut behind you.

Because you heard that first cry, that heart-splintering sob that no one should ever have to let out by themselves. The sound of someone so strong finally falling underneath the weight of everything burden they have been carrying for way too long. The door did a poor job of muffling what was happening inside that room, and the last thing you wanted to do was leave. You wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway.

Hunter would always be the first to say that none of you were keen on following orders.

You turned and let the door open again, admitting yourself back inside the dark space. Hunter looked up at you from his hands, and what you were met with splintered your heart into a million different fragments. His face was screwed up in a kind of vulnerable despair and panic that you had never seen from him before, not even after Tech fell and Omega was captured the first time.

You strode towards him. “I’m not letting you go through this alone, Hunter.”

You stopped just a few paces away from where he still sat on the edge of the bed, his wet eyes glistening when a fraction of moonlight caught them through the blinds of the viewport.

“You don’t have to hide from me. I know that you’re—.”

You cut yourself off when Hunter suddenly stood and approached you. He wrapped his arms around you and splayed his palms upon your back, holding you so tightly against him that you lost your breath for a moment. He eased his grasp when he heard the breath escape your lungs, but the desperation remained, evident in the way he trembled against you.

Lastly, he buried his face in the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in with a sharp exhale like you alone could save him.

You finally recovered enough from your initial shock to hold him back, with one hand positioned on his head as the other ran over his back. You were careful with his wounds that were still healing, but there was no doubt now that his external injuries weren’t nearly as bad as those he had been hiding within himself all this time.

Hopefully, he was ready to heal those untreated wounds, rather than letting them fester within himself.

Hunter wasn’t really crying, not from what you could tell, but the trembling was getting worse—as was his breathing. It was easy to understand now why he couldn’t grasp your senses before; his own heart was beating hard enough to drown out just about everything else.

“I’ve got you.” Your voice was a soft whisper as you repeated assurances he had certainly said to you and the others a dozen times over, when he held onto his composure for the sake of soothing everyone else around him. “You’re safe.”

It was hard to pinpoint what exactly had Hunter breaking down like this, but your best guess was that his memories of Tantiss were haunting him, however brief his time spent there actually was. He had given you a brief account purely for medical reasons, but the others had filled you in on what they could.

He had endured awful torture, all while he was still processing the pain of his untreated wounds and feeling the pain of them more than anyone else in the galaxy ever would, thanks to his senses—senses that were supposed to be a gift, used against him.

You tightened your jaw and closed your eyes. Hunter didn’t need anger; that was one of the emotions that had caused him to spiral like this. He needed softness, reassurance, and comfort.

“No one will hurt you like that again.” Your voice was as gentle as the hand that ran over the hair at the crown of his head, minding the edges of his bandana. “I promise.”

Hunter physically relaxed at that, but his breathing still wasn’t getting any better. He started to hold you tighter again, and you could hear another gasped exhale buried into your shoulder.

It was clear to you now what was happening, and despite the way you were relishing in his touch, it wasn’t going to help him any longer. You eased your hands onto his shoulders and urged him to pull away from you. His gaze found yours for the first time that night, and your heart dropped into your stomach at everything you found within it.

It was a leader who was afraid, and had no idea what to do next. An eldest brother who failed to find any guidance. A soldier whose anxiety, trauma, and PTSD was getting the best of him for the first time.

He had been so strong to fight it off in the past, but it made you ache that he even had to do that. You should have been there for him before this moment. It shouldn’t have had to come to this.

But you could ruminate over that later. For now, you needed to provide him with the solution he was clearly seeking. You eased him back down onto the edge of the bed by his shoulders, keeping your actions slow and steady as you nodded at him.

“Your mind’s thinking faster than your body can keep up with.”

You ran your thumbs over the skin on his shoulders. Hunter’s gaze never left yours, as if you were anchoring him to reality.

“That’s what’s happening right now. We just have to focus on one thing at a time. Okay?”

Hunter nodded. You offered him a small smile.

“Let’s start by getting your breathing back to normal.” You stood close enough to him that you could ease the side of his head against your chest, letting him and his senses have easier access to your heart and your lungs. “Focus your senses on my lungs, and follow my breaths.”

You inhaled steadily, held it for a few heartbeats, and then let it go again in a long exhale. Your eyes fell closed as you repeated the cycle, but after the fourth or fifth time, you reopened your eyes to watch Hunter’s progress.

His eyes had also closed, and thankfully, his breathing was indeed getting better. He had taken the liberty of setting his hands on your hips to steady himself, but you didn’t mind. You committed the feeling to memory even if your focus remained on his well-being.

After a few more cycles of breathing, you spoke up into the silence. “Better?”

Hunter nodded against your chest, easing his head back up. You let him go, already missing the warmth of his touch as he withdrew it from your hips. His hands held his thighs tight before they slid down to his knees, his stare now darting wildly around the room as if he was truly understanding what had happened.

You tightened your lips and took your spot on the bed beside him again. At least this time, he didn’t push you away. In fact, he kept you close enough for your arm to brush against his, even if he still couldn’t look at you. You let him guide the conversation, and as heavy as his next exhale was, at least it was steady.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Hunter’s voice was hoarser than usual, and that was saying something for a man who always sounded as if he had roughened up his voice on a daily basis.

You frowned and leaned forward. “Why?”

A muscle in Hunter’s jaw ticked before he finally looked over at you again. His gaze was conflicted, still full of distress while also finding some semblance of comfort in you. “Because.” He looked down at his hands, which flexed over his own legs. “I’m not supposed to fall apart.”

“We’re all bound to at some point.” You eased your hand upon his arm. “Especially when we’ve been through as much as you have.”

Hunter shook his head. “No. I shouldn’t.” He spared a look at you, but it seemed as if he was too guilty to even sustain the glance as his gaze lowered back to his hands. “I have no right to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What are you talking about, Hunter?”

His expression morphed into something heavier, and his voice lowered so much that you had to strain to hear it. “Everything that’s happened since Kaller has been my fault.”

You scoffed. “That’s just not true, Hunter.”

“It is.”

Hunter was stern as he finally looked over at you. There was fire in his eyes, but it wasn’t aimed towards you. It was aimed towards himself.

“If I had taken Crosshair with us before we even left Kamino the first time, or if I had at least gone back for him soon after that… there would have been no rescue mission to attempt on Eriadu.”

Hunter’s voice started to shake again, but not as violently as before. Your shoulders fell at the pure grief and despair in his words.

“Tech would still be here.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m not letting you go down this path.” You took his hands and held them between yours. “Because if Tech were here, he’d been absolutely grilling you about how wrong you are right now.”

That at least made Hunter scoff in amusement.

“You said it yourself to Crosshair at that outpost. We didn’t understand what was going on back then.” You lifted your brow at him. “How were you, or any of us, supposed to know what the chips were like, until we had to see it ourselves with Wrecker?”

Hunter sighed. “Yeah, and that should’ve pushed us harder to get Crosshair back.”

“And I’m sure it would’ve, if you hadn’t been shot in the chestplate by that bounty hunter who took Omega. We had a lot going on at that point, Hunter. It was survival mode.”

Hunter circled his jaw. “That’s not an excuse to leave one of our own behind.” He almost looked dizzy as he freed a hand from your grasp to press against his forehead. “Kriff, we… we didn’t even go back for Tech’s body.” He ground out the next name through gritted teeth. “Hemlock was the one to salvage his goggles.”

You gave the hand in your grasp a gentle squeeze. “If we had gone back for his body, we wouldn’t have made it out of there alive.” You fought through the heaviness in your own chest. “Which is the whole reason why Tech sacrificed his life in the first place.”

Hunter’s gaze looked towards the viewport, allowing the moonlight to yet again catch his face. Even with the tattooed side of his face turned towards you, you could still see the glistening of a new tear on the skin beneath his eye, though his body language screamed for him to ignore it. His tone gave nothing away as he spoke again.

“I thought it was gonna happen again.”

You swallowed hard. “What?”

Hunter closed his eyes and hung his head, though he otherwise stood strong. “That I was gonna lose more of them. Of us.” His voice was strained as he went on. “It was the torture that woke me up for the first time since I got knocked out at the hangar. I knew Wrecker and Crosshair were nearby, but their heartbeats were weaker than normal, and the shocks were… overwhelming my senses, anyway.”

You accidentally tightened your grasp on Hunter’s hand hard enough to make him wince. You quickly relaxed, forcing yourself to bite your tongue and let Hunter continue.

“Hemlock came in, and he warned me that history would repeat itself with them.” Hunter shook his head. “I told him we would survive, but a small part of me believed him. The same part that watched that doctor toss me my brother’s own shattered goggles.”

One of your hands drifted up his arm as you held it, your cheek pressing against his skin for comfort. “Hunter…”

“I knew we should’ve listened to Crosshair and stayed in hiding, but everyone wanted the chance to get him back, and I did, too.” Hunter reopened his eyes and looked at you again. “I wanted it so badly. But if I had just done that before, if I had made him come with us off Kamino…”

“Hunter.” You gave his arm a gentle squeeze and lifted your brow, seeking permission to speak. Hunter’s silence allowed you to go on. “You gave him a choice to come with us, and he said no. After the chip took his choices away from him, would you really have wanted to take another one away, too? Even if it wasn’t the right one in your eyes?”

Hunter grimaced, and ultimately, he shook his head.

“Exactly.” You paused, searching his gaze. “You can’t take responsibility for all of Crosshair’s actions.”

“And I won’t, because Crosshair wouldn’t want me to.” Hunter sighed. “But I still can’t help wondering what would have been if I hadn’t let us leave him behind for so long.”

“In that case, the rest of us are just as guilty as you. I don’t remember us putting any pressure on you to go back for him.”

Hunter looked around the room and blinked, as if he was truly processing your words. You took that as an invitation to continue.

“And honestly, Hunter? All roads would have led back to Tantiss, anyway.”

That caught Hunter’s attention again. He glanced at you in disbelief as you went on.

“The Empire, and Hemlock, would always come for Omega. You shouldn’t have had to go through what you did on Tantiss, and every day ever since I’ve wished that I could’ve done something to prevent it, but now that Hemlock’s dead? We don’t ever have to worry about it again.”

You sighed and looked down at your hand, which was now interlocked with Hunter’s own.

“We freed her and those clones. That’s what matters now. One life… in exchange for many, many others.”

You found yourself smiling as you imagined Tech’s voice in your head.

“A certain someone would have been very satisfied by that outcome.”

Hunter huffed, his eyes closing as he nodded. “Yeah. Would’ve rambled on about the quantitative value of it or something.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Exactly.”

You sat in the silence for a few moments, your steady gaze tracking Hunter’s face and tracing the lines of his tattoo until he reopened his eyes. When his stare met yours, you spoke once again.

“The past can’t be undone, Hunter. I know you know that. It’ll take time for these wounds of yours to heal,” you nodded towards his wrapped side, “just like the ones you got on Tantiss, but all you can do now is move forward with what and who you have.”

Hunter took a deep breath, but ultimately, he nodded—with a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’d like that.”

You couldn’t help returning his smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, looking almost nervous as he did so. “I just… I think, like with this one,” he glanced down at his side, “I might need you to help me keep an eye on these wounds.”

“Of course.” You wasted no time reassuring him. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Hunter was beaming at you, now, but your words forced you to reckon with the way you approached this entire situation. You resisted the urge to let out a frustrated groan as you deflated.

“But… I know I should’ve asked a second time before I barged in here.” You looked down. “I’m sorry if I pressured you to talk this through with me. I didn’t—.”

If the hand on your cheek wasn’t enough to make you lose the words inside your throat, then the feeling of Hunter’s mouth on yours certainly was. You were too shocked to do anything at first, especially with everything you were still processing from this night, but you composed yourself quickly enough to avoid letting Hunter think that you didn’t want this gesture that you had absolutely been craving for longer than you’d ever admit.

Hunter only kissed you long enough to make you realize just how badly you needed to do it again, though the warm smile he wore as he pulled away and faced you again made the separation worth it.

“Don’t apologize for that.” He lifted his brow and chuckled in genuine amusement. “I’ve always needed someone who can out-stubborn me.”

You laughed at that. “You sure do make it a challenge, Sarge.”

Hunter gave his eyes a playful role. “I haven’t technically had that rank ever since we deserted.”

“Yet you still act like one.”

Hunter huffed. You let out a light sigh and rested your head against his arm again, closing your eyes in content. Your thoughts, however, still lingered on the larger topic at hand, and you grimaced as you spoke on the dark topic one last time.

“I really am sorry about what you had to go through on Tantiss, and that I wasn’t there to stop it. At least, not in time.” You tightened your jaw. “I wish I could kill Hemlock again for what he did to you.”

The feeling of Hunter’s head against your own caused you to reopen your eyes. You smiled into the darkness of the room. “That just might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You chuckled and shook your head, minding his own that still rested against yours. “You’re crazy.” You couldn’t have put more affection into the words if you had tried.

After all, it was that craziness that had drawn you to Hunter and the squad in the first place.

After a few more sweet moments of silence, you patted his arm. “Alright, time to get some rest. Those wounds aren’t gonna heal themselves.”

You looked up at Hunter, whose brow shot up at your words. “Which wounds?”

“All of them.” You held his face for a moment and ran your thumbs over the dark circles under his eyes. “Literally nothing is made better by you avoiding sleep.” You gestured back towards the viewport. “There are no more battles out there for you. You can afford to rest now.”

Hunter shrugged and encouraged you to follow him back towards the other end of the bed. “Maybe I just couldn’t rest because I needed you with me more than I realized.”

You let out a dramatic scoff. “Then thank the stars you finally realized that.” As you laid beside him, you fixed him with a serious look. “I hope you know I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you get proper rest, now.”

Hunter raised his brow beside you. “Whatever it takes? Should I put up more of a fight, then?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes before you took the initiative and leaned in for a quick kiss. “If you want more, then you need to sleep.” You nestled yourself into his chest, letting him hold you the way he clearly wanted to, given the hardly concealed desperation of his touch. “Final offer.”

His voice grumbled his response into your head. “Fine.”

Now hidden from his view, you smiled to yourself in victory. There was a lot to mourn, but also a lot to look forward to. Peace was certainly something you had to earn, but with the right people, you didn’t mind the process.

And it was a relief to know that every wave could truly break, wash away, and still return stronger than before. You had no doubt that Hunter would do the same.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020

[creative-frequency]

Lucanis Dellamorte x Reader: Late Nights & Delayed Confessions, pt.3

Summary: There is only one bed. Part 3 of 5. Word count: 980 Notes: (Unresolved) romantic tension, pining, you’re an Antivan Crow, no spoilers for Veilguard → Part 2 → My writing masterlist

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Lucanis prompted instantly as you stepped inside your room.

“Don’t be silly,” you replied.

“Then where do you suggest I rest? In the closet?” He spread his arms and pointedly looked around.

“Hm, it might be a tight fit, but…”

Lucanis scoffed.

This familiar back and forth brought back remnants of times that were somehow simpler, somehow more filled with hopes and dreams. You had long since abandoned those three notions in everything related to Lucanis Dellamorte.

“There’s enough room for us both,” you continued as nonchalantly as possible. Meanwhile the thought of sharing a bed with him made your pulse quicken.

You both looked at the said bed. It looked even smaller now.

Lucanis inhaled deeply and searched your face for a moment. He probably didn’t find what he was so intent on seeing since he sighed again, clearly vexed, and crossed over the floor to sit on the bed. Without any further ado, he started taking off his cloak, jacket and boots, and lovingly placed three throwing knives, a dagger and a short sword on the bedside table.

You just stood there. Staring. Probably your mouth hanging open with a high probability of a line of drool. So ladylike.

Sure, you had seen him taking off his… stuff and not just in your daydreams. You had seen men undressing, and been an active participant in the activity and what usually ensued after, but witnessing Lucanis go through the motions made your heart lodge in your throat. It felt somehow very wrong and very right.

Suddenly it also felt like decades had passed since the last time you had been alone with him. Memories of flowing wine and a secluded balcony in Treviso surfaced. It had been a hell of a contract and the execution had been flawless. Some visuals of the celebrations afterwards were still hazy and you hadn’t dared to ask Lucanis to clear up the fog.

There was… heat. And heartache. A wine-induced drunken haze? Or maybe something more.

You shook your head to dissipate the tingling sensation. You hadn’t asked Lucanis about that night before and you wouldn’t start that conversation now.

You started taking off your earrings, gaze bouncing between the master assassin and your own motions in the mirror.

“Are you sure the man wasn’t just trying to rob you because you’re walking around in those?” Lucanis met your eyes through the mirror and nodded to the small pile of jewellery on the side table.

“Mm. Maybe,” you ventured softly, “But they were a gift from Illario on last Satinalia, so I wanted to wear them.”

Lucanis looked away, but didn’t comment. That frustrating, perfectly blank slate on his handsome face would be a frightening opponent in Wicked Grace.

You didn’t exactly hurry in preparing – mostly mentally – to bed, and yet the moment still arrived altogether too soon. Lucanis was waiting for you, stalling. You could see he didn’t approve of the idea, but had likely arrived through a very precise, logical line of thought to the conclusion that this couldn’t be helped. For one night, you could sleep standing on your head if need be. Lucanis was probably thinking along the same lines. You needed to be up early and well rested for the journey back to Treviso in the morning. Viago would actually murder you if the Merchant Prince contract wouldn’t be handled by the end of the week.

“I’ll take the door’s side,” you said and embarrassment burned hot because of how squeaky your voice was.

“Right.”

You avoided looking at Lucanis and shuffled to your side of the bed. It was so small. This was a terrible idea.

The mattress dipped behind your back as Lucanis laid down. There was only one blanket and you cursed yourself for not having the foresight to snatch an extra one from Illario’s room.

You lifted the blanket and tossed the other half of it behind you so that Lucanis could have what little comfort it offered. Both of you were mostly dressed, but it seemed disrespectful to hoard it all to yourself.

Lucanis didn’t say anything as he settled the blanket over his side, but you were already feeling the warming effect of sharing. You scooted just an inch backward to narrow the gap between your bodies.

“You’re going to fall off the bed. Come closer,” Lucanis said quietly.

Those two last words rushed the air from your lungs, attached your heart into your throat to prevent inhaling more and threw a match into the barrel of gaatlok inside your chest. Heat rushed through your whole body to chase the escaped air and for a second, breathing ever again seemed impossible.

Lucanis turned slightly to look over his shoulder. You were petrified.

“Fiore?”

Could he not.

“I-I’m fine,” you managed.

He turned back and silence fell.

You really needed to calm down. Treat it as just a job. It was not the first time you were sleeping next to another warm body. You both were reasonable and functional adults. This was a matter of convenience. If Lucanis realised you were doing calming breathing exercises, he didn’t address it.

He shifted a little, tugged at the blanket and let it loosen again. You focused on breathing.

Lucanis scooted backward just like you had done and all of a sudden your back was pressed against his. A backwash of the heat flooded back into you. Forcing your body to relax was suddenly effortless. Like this warmth had been what you were just waiting for in order to settle in for the night. Your breaths were steady. Lucanis’ back was moving subtly in tandem with his breathing.

Now, if only you could have fallen into dreamless sleep.

He had called you ‘Fiore’.

Who had you been kidding, there was absolutely no way you could fall asleep next to Lucanis Dellamorte.

-

→ TBC

[frodopotter7]

The memories of Edwin Payne

(Or an interactive fanfiction)

Note: I had the headcanon that Edwin‘s notebook contains all his personal writing including the writings from his life as an Edwardian boy. So I wrote those entries in his notebook. Now this book is obviously all of Edwin‘s personal thoughts and I thought it would be fun to do a collaboration. So if you are a writer yourself or creative in any other way, feel free to use this entries as a starting point for another fanfiction. For example Charles finding the notebook and reading it or Crystal reading it or anything else. The only rule that I set is that you clearly mark my text and tag me, because first of all it was a lot of effort to write it and secondly I want to see what cool things you came up with. And if you don’t want to creatively interact with this fanfiction, then you can obviously just enjoy it by reading it.

Summary: Edwin Payne‘s most treasured item is his notebook, because it contains so much private information that no one else knows about him. Not even Charles. Including the struggles of a posh, gay, autistic Edwardian boy and his times before hell, in hell and shortly after hell.

Triggers: bullying, implied suicide, dolls

Shipping: Payneland, but you could also include other shipping in your part

The song that I thought of while writing:

One of Edwin’s most treasured objects was definitely his notebook. He had it all the time and he used it for every case they had. It meant a lot to him, since it was with him when he died. It was with him in hell and it was with him in his detective career. The reason why he never gave it to anyone, not even Charles, was that it had been with him even as a child. Well, back then he had several notebooks, but as he died every personal writing of his got transferred into it. The notebook always had enough pages and was still not getting thicker and his pen was always full of ink. And still even though it contained so many different notes, Edwin navigated through it without any problems. It was his own writing after all. His family sigil was carved into the black front cover and the word ‘Payne’ was written underneath it.

If anyone would open it and tried to start from the beginning, he would be greeted with Edwin’s signature under the printed words. ‘Family member:’ After that the handwriting would be harder to read. Scribbly, crossed out spelling mistakes and spilled ink from a little boy, who was writing for the first time. If you manage to identify the words it would read:

1905

Greetings,

my name is Edwin Payne. I am the only child of the family Payne. My father says, that mother wanted more children, but just failed every other time. You probably have heard about my family’s name. The family with the best lawyers of England. When I’m grown up, I will be a lawyer too. Lawyers are like detectives says my father. I like that. I like detectives.

My nanny told me to interact more with others. Why would I need to talk if there is no one to talk to anyways? My parents are often absent and my nanny is just not understanding me. My father says that I am too slow for my age. My motion skills too clumsy. My spoken words only contain information from detective books and I cannot properly respond to people yet. I know a lot of novels by heart though. Others just don’t seem to like talking about crimes as much as I do. Father sometimes lets me have a look in his older cases. They are interesting.

We visited a doctor again today, because of my slow development. We visit him quite often. Actually since I can remember. I don’t feel sick. He says there is nothing wrong with me. Still I know that something is wrong. I overreacted at loud noises. A lot of things stress me out.

1906

I haven’t writing about Cordelia Primrose Surname-von-Hovercraft. She is annoying, loud and a restless soul. She runs around the house and breaks rules just to get the attention. She is a bit younger than me, but that doesn’t justify her actions. I don’t like her. Although sometimes she be helpful. Like the time she stole the biscuit jar and gave me one of the special biscuits. They had to expel one of her nannies for this. But Cordelia had plenty nannies anyways. No one stays long with her. I had my nanny since I was born. I don’t like changes. Cordelia sometimes scares me with ghost stories. She says she would see them and that my fortune says that I will die a painful and early death. I don’t believe in this unscientific nonsense.

I take piano lessons now. It’s is fun. My mother seems to enjoy it. It is somehow the only way to get her attention for me.

Additionally to my regular private lessons I go to school now. Simon obviously needs to be in my class as well. I don’t like him. He bores me and he is too clingy. And sometimes he says mean things to me.

I had an outburst in class. Everything was just so loud and I was frustrated. The teacher hit my finger with the ruler and send me in the naughty corner. I don’t see why I get punished, when the other boys are clearly the distraction. Overall I am a good student. So it will probably not affect my grades.

My favorite subject is Latin and literature. I love books and translating old languages. It is like solving a code or a riddle. I don’t like maths, since it is all just numbers and no words.

1907

I had another outburst in class after Simon tried to touch me. He kept tapping my arm and I don’t like that. The teacher called a nurse, but I was too overwhelmed to respond to any of her questions to my health. I wanted to go home and I told her that again and again, but she didn’t understand. They called a priest. He said something in Latin. I think, it must have been biblical words. I tried to focus on translating them, but there was so much panic around me that I barely focused on anything. But I managed to calm myself after what felt like hours due to exhaustion.

My parents had a talk with the priest. He says that I am possessed by a demon. So now he straps me to a table and mumbled something in Latin again and again once a month or whatever I have an outburst. The robes around my wrist hurt. I am afraid. It is scary to know that there is something inside of me.

1908

I hate being possessed. Although I start to doubt that I have been in the first place. I did some research in the library and the real demonology books aren’t describing my symptoms. Even Cordelia, who usually always tells spooky stories, agrees with me. She said, if I was possessed she would have been the first one to know. She is a mystery to me.

1909

Today I saw a nice looking man across the street. I told my nanny that he looks like a basket full of oranges. My father uses that term a lot when he talks about young women, so I thought it is just a term to use if you think someone looks nice. She gasped and hit me lightly with the newspaper. It didn’t hurt but I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. She told me that a man cannot say that to another man. I guess the saying is reserved for women then.

1910

I started to mask my uncomfortable feelings in public. It is difficult, but it helps. My parents and the priest both think that I am healed.

1911

I got called a Mary Ann for the first time. I asked my nanny and she started to mumble to herself how she must have failed. I told her that she did a really great job, since I would consider myself very well behaved and educated. She ignored me and told me to not tell my parents. How should I tell them if they are never there in the first place?

I did some research again, which mainly was asking Simon. I know, getting down on his level is a hard sacrifice. He told me that a Mary Ann is a boy who behaves like a girl and isn’t manly enough so they love other men. I thought about that for a long time. What is it about me that makes me a Mary Ann?

The writing in the book started to get better and appeared way more elegant. You could find little drawings here and there. Edwin was quite a good and realistic artist. Drawings of flowers, buildings, his nanny, his mother or Sherlock Holmes.

1912

Mother is constantly coughing loudly. It is irritating. Not even cocaine will help. They don’t let me in her room. They fear I would catch it too. Not that I was ever close to her before.

Mother is in a special hospital now. She took the train far away in a hospital in the mountains. No one ever returns from there. I know it. Everyone does. I will not see her again.

Mother died of tuberculosis. I miss her, I guess. I don’t know what I miss. It is a change. I hate changes.

1913

Father is sending me to a boarding school for boys. He says it’s for my education. I know, he just wants to get ride of me.

I hate the new school. Simon is here and people are still calling me a Mary Ann. Simon started to join them. I guess he sees it as a new opportunity to mock me.

I take fencing lessons now. It is nice, since it is not required any sort of touch with other boys. Nothing that I can be blamed for.

1914

I found a hideout in the school attic. It is a great place to read in peace.

The world has started a war. It worries me. They tell us that we are save in the school. But in the end all you can do is pray.

I came back home on Christmas. My nanny was gone. Father said they would be no need for her any longer, since I am in school now anyway. He looked like he knew something, but wasn’t going to tell me.

1915

The next page had some blood drops on its pages.

I want to go home. I want to be back in my room with my detective books. I want to be healed from this darkness inside of me. My nose is bleeding from another attack by the other boys. They started to get more violent now. Simon isn’t joining them, but he watches.

I came home on Christmas, but it wasn’t my home anymore. Just a house. My father didn’t speak a word. I asked him, if it was about the war and he looked up towards me. I could feel his cold gaze from across the table. He took out a letter and slammed it on the table. It was from my headteacher. I was confused. I am class best and the best behaved student in class? The only reason why I get to stand in the naughty corner is if I got caught reading in my comics or books. In my defense I am usually already finished with the exercises if I read in class. What could possibly be a problem with me? The letter was about the other boys calling me Mary Ann. And that they didn’t wanted a boy like that in their school. That I should stop whatever was wrong with me. My father told me in his absent voice, that he was not having a son like that either. He had exchanged letters with the headmaster for quite some time now and I didn’t seem to get better. I asked him that I had no idea. He interrupted me as always. Told me that the only way to make me a man would be to send me to war. I started to cry and he continued holding a speech about heroism and that his generation had understood this so much better than mine. I am too young for war, he knows that too. He told me that the only thing rescuing my life is my good grades. He sees potential in me as a lawyer. He has talked to the Surnames-von-Hovercrafts they agreed that I should marry their daughter as soon as possible. I mean I knew that I would be married to Cordelia one day, but not already when I turn 16. That’s only some months away.

As the train brought me back to the boarding school and as I saw my father standing in the doorway of the house with his usual expressionless face, I knew that this was the last time I would see him and that he wished to rather have no son than me. I just knew it.

1916

Simon stole my hat. I wouldn’t mention this minor form of his bullying, if it hadn’t been a special hat. My mother and I bought it, when her disease hadn’t been noticeable. It was too large back then, but it suits me now. Or rather suited. I don’t think I will see it again as Simon comes up with the best ways to either destroy or hide it. I cried about it. Childhood is over, but honestly I don’t think it ever started in the first place at least not for me.

The numbness is spreading inside my body. I think about the military and the forced marriage daily. I am too young for this. I cannot even properly cope in a classroom. How am I supposed to cope in the war? My hands are to soft. My brain is too precious. Please, spear me. They won’t. It is just a question of time.

I went to the lake today. It is spring and still fairly cold, but I went inside non the less. It was cold. Ice cold. I went under water and yelled out some poetic nonsense. I thought about staying under water. Turning into Ophelia. But I reminded myself, that this is something a coward would do. A Mary Ann. I would proof everyone’s suspicions as correct. Scared to live. Scared to die. I got out of the water. My gaze landed on my clothes and the letter. My father had written me that the marriage would be held in some days, since I am 16 now. I ripped the paper in half and tossed it into the ocean. Letting the water destroy the writing on the paper. Of course this would make nothing undone. I would still need to marry. I would still need to go into the military. I would still need to die. I am frightened. The other boys seem unbothered. They laugh and play like the world isn’t ending around us. Well, their world is probably not ending anyways. They will live. Their parents are rich after all. They have the privilege. I would have had this privilege as well, but they took it from me by putting this name on me. I took it from myself with my impure thoughts.

Cordelia sent me a telegram that just read that I would need to be careful as death was approaching me in the worst way. I hate her for that. As if I wouldn’t know that. As if I wouldn’t know that I needed to go into the army soon. Not a single word about our forced wedding. I thought we had always agreed to both be against it. But then again she isn’t even trying to love me. Not that I would try. Not anymore. I tried when I was younger, because I was told to. But Cordelia has just no idea how to react appropriately to a gentleman. Her behavior makes it hard to believe that she is from such a high rank.

I saw Simon with a weird book today. He told me it is from his brother and that it is about demons. I told him that this was total nonsense and that he should get a grip on reality. He didn’t spoke to me again after that. Weird for someone who is as annoying as him. I am going to put my notebook in the pocket of my sleeping clothes tonight just to make sure Simon cannot steal it. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. My heart is aching for absolutely no reasons. I am afraid as I try to sleep tonight and the worst thing is that it is irrational. I am going to die alone, this is all my head produces right now.

?

Now every page was covered with blood at the side of the pages and sometimes even on the writing itself. There were no drawings to be found anymore. Just drawings for the escape plan and hierarchy of hell.

I don’t know if my dates are correct. I don’t know how time works in here. I don’t even know how long I am able to write without this thing waking up. This thing with the many doll heads. This spider like creature that kills me every time I move or make a sound. I sometimes wonder what happened to the other boys.

I try to change my perspective. It is hard when you are in so much pain. My brain learned to be sharper now. I can think and act quicker. I need to see this as one of my old detective games or as the times that I had to run away from my bullies. Everything is achievable with logic. Although I would say after being in hell for such a long time that might be a delusional optimism.

1988

I think I made it out fairly well. I am still uncontrollably shaky when I hear any noises. I fear that this demon might comeback to get me. I am back in the old school attic where they strapped me down on the table and sacrificed me. I learned a lot from hell and from the books in the attic. Like the basic ghost rules or that my death and the death of my bullies were labeled an act of god. I compared hell to the war a lot. After all I would say that hell was definitely the worse death. Much longer torture than war would have been. In the war you die just one death after all. But maybe a Mary Ann like me would have ended up there anyway.

I finally was brave enough to get out of the attic. I figured out that the year is 1988 from a newspaper that one of the teachers was reading. 72 years of torture. I wonder how often I was torn apart in this time. But I shouldn’t think about that. That reminds me of the pain and of the times when I tried to count my own corpses. The school hasn’t changed a lot. The teachers are less violent, but still rather strict. They have more lower class people here now. I can see it by the ways they behave and by the clothes they wear. That is especially confusing for me. So rude, so explicit, so freely. It is not a boarding school anymore. Luckily that gives me the freedom to have my peace after dark.

I started to watch a specific boy. I am not a stalker. At least I wouldn’t use this therm for a ghost. He is just interesting for my scientific research about this time. The boy has a darker skin. Some children in this school have this skin and get picked on, but somehow he isn’t the one who gets pick on. He wears very interesting clothes. Especially the golden earring. Something I would just see a woman wear, but it fits him so much better than it could ever fit a woman. His clothing is mostly black, though I would say that the red shirt he once worn fits him best. His lips have always a smile on them and he cracks loud jokes. But I see the sadness in his eyes. I recognize my own sadness in his eyes. His name is Charles Rowland. I heard the teacher yell it at him. A little trouble maker in class. He seems to never be able to focus. Maybe he is also possessed like I was when I was a young boy. But after experiencing hell, I doubt that the priest back then had any idea what a demon was really like.

The following page is filled with a very realistic drawing of Charles, who is smiling so iconically and his eyes seem to be filled with emptiness and some smaller doodles of Charles playing Cricket or talking to others.

Charles Rowland. His name repeats itself in my brain. I am not obsessive. He is just the best way of distraction I can find in this school. Distraction from the fear of hell. The fear of death coming back for me. Analysis and observation keep me away from those horrible thoughts. I have less panicle outbursts since I started my observation of this boy. Although when I am alone at night in the school attic I often start to cry in silence and my breathing races again.

Charlie. That is what his friends call him. It doesn’t suit him. Charles is his name. Not Charlie. I don’t like his friends. They are rude. They remind me of the boys in my old life. I wonder why I like Charles then. Maybe because he points out obvious misbehavior of the group even if they mock him.

The most interesting time is when Charles thinks that he is alone. That is mostly in the dressing room, when he gets ready for Cricket. As a short notion he is a fabulous cricket player, but he always waits till the other boys have changed and are out of the room. He pretends to struggle with his shoes or shorts. Even if that sometimes means that it is getting really dark outside. His smiles fades completely then. I saw the scars on his body. I feel bad for even looking at him in that state. Seeing a boy my age without a shirt is clearly inappropriate and it triggers the Mary Ann inside of me, but sometimes my detective senses is taking over too much. Especially after I saw all the scars and bruises. You don’t need to be that clever to understand that his family probably his father beats him. Although beating may be a too mild verb for those scars. I appreciate the absence of my father when I see him. My father and teachers used to beat me as well. With a ruler or the flat hand though not as much as my classmates. And after being through hell, that all seems like nothing in comparison. But even in my time no father would have mistreated their sons like that. I speak from a higher class, maybe it had been different in the lower class, but they were happy if their sons made it through childhood without a disease or scars so they could work properly. Although maybe they did this with the child workers. Is Charles secretly a child worker? Is there still child labour? Why would someone bruise their son like that if their son could provide a great income for the family? Or how many things was Charles doing something seriously wrong?

1989

His friends talked about me last night. They had cricket practice until the sun had settled and on the way back home I heard them talking about a school ghost. The janitor must have heard my weeping last night. My hysteria yesterday was indeed a lot. Too much to handle for myself. I think I was shaking till dawn. This vivid fear must have crossed over into the living world. They told Charles, that this had scared the janitor and he quitted. Then they told him of Mary Ann who was sacrificed 1916 and killed all the boys that night. Charles questioned this logically, since it was an all boys school, so there probably was never a girl. I certainly appreciate his thinking, but this just triggered a lot in me. Being called a Mary Ann even after all this years. Being remembered only as a Mary Ann. Being blamed as the murderer. Those boys clearly had no idea of what the term Mary Ann actually meant, but it just triggered me so badly that I started to panic again. My panic must have bursted through the worlds again, because the boys suddenly turned white and ran home. Charles stayed a little longer. Looking in my direction. I know he couldn’t see me, but maybe he could sense my panic more than the other boys could. Again we are much a like if you observe closely. After this strange second of him just starting into nothing and me starting back, he ran away as well.

I need to leave this place. But I am too scared. Too scared of the outside world. Too scared of the changes.

I wanted to leave today, be brave enough. But I heard Charles ‘friends’ talking bad about him behind his back. How weird he behaved. They had no idea about his scars. Then again if I would be his friend, which is rather unlikely, I wouldn’t confront him. I know how horrible I panic if someone says the word Mary Ann, I imagine that it is a similar situation for him with his scars. I stayed. I don’t know why. Again irrational fears.

I wish I would have left. I saw Charles defending a boy who got bullied by his so called friends. I felt tears in my eyes, because this was the kind of protection I had wished for when I was alive. I definitely feel too many emotions at the moment or maybe it just feels like more emotions because I was mostly numb in hell. The younger boy could escape with only a few bruises, but his friends still were in this blood lust. In this moment of still wanting the fun even though there was nothing funny about the action in the first place. I have seen those faces before. The faces of murders who only realize their actions when it is too late. They stoned him in the cold water. The water of the lake in which I once thought about killing myself a long time ago. I wanted to help. I wanted to stop them, but I had no idea what I could do. I am too new in this ghostly body. I tried desperately, but I ended up only pausing them by holding them back for a short time. It gave Charles time to ran away to the school building. He hid in the attic. I wanted to help him. The least I could do was by giving him a light. He was in a state where a floating light probably was his least problem. It turned out that he could see me and that was the moment I knew it was too late for him anyway. It was a strange sensation to properly speak again. I had never spoken in hell and in my ghost form I had only weeped. Hearing my own voice was odd. I was shortly surprised that I still knew how to use my voice. Reading to him from one of my old comics in the attic calmed him and gave me the opportunity to adapt a bit to talking for a longer period of time. He stayed with me, which honestly stresses me out a lot. I am not made to be a friend. I have been isolated for too long to be a good friend. I have been in hell for so long that I am probably a horrible person myself. I haven’t talked in so long. I am just adapting to just have conversations, how should I teach him to be a ghost, if I haven’t figured it out myself? Even if that all would not be the case and even if we would not be from different times, still I never have been good with other people. I never had friends. The only person a bit close to me was Cordelia and she was always more a sister for me. And still he chooses a stranger his own afterlife. From my observations I would blame his intentional behavior. He sees something and does something without thinking long. Although this decision might be too big for only this explanation.

I really can’t understand why Charles is choosing me over his afterlife. I just read to him once and gave him a lantern. He barely knows me and now he follows me everywhere. I showed him some ghost tricks and somehow I can really impress him by everything I say or do. But he made me smile for the first time in my life. So I am impressed by him as well. Whenever I read in this book, I just tell him that I like to keep record of things. That I would plan were we can go next as we no longer can stay in the school and waking around without plan is never good for too long. It is partly a lie I really am making a plan. But I do this in my head rather than writing it down, but it is an excuse for not letting him see my private writing. I tell him that it is rather boring planning and he believes me. I feel bad for lying to him, but if he would know about my past he surely would leave me and I would be all alone again.

We mirror traveled together to London. Charles felt a bit sick after it. He seems to still need to adapt to his ghost body. I was a bit overwhelmed with his sudden mood shift. I have been too selfish all my life and in my death so much that I don’t know how to help. He didn’t notice or he just didn’t say anything. But we had to mirror travel, it was too dangerous in the school after Charles died. Besides Charles is a talented and athletic boy, he will get the grip of it. In addition death could have caught me in the attic. I didn’t tell him why I am on the run. Not yet. I fear that once I tell him that I was in hell, he will think I am evil. Maybe that is true. Maybe I am just doomed. I feel like it was my fault that he died. I watched him so long with this incorrect feelings of mine. Maybe this cursed him like in a Greek tragedy. For now I just want to make sure that Charles is not alone. I had been alone for too long to know how dreadful it can get and he is much more social than I am.

We visited his family in London. A real rural area. His mother was crying over the loss of her son. His father just seemed to see it as a natural thing to happen to those who aren’t careful enough. I made a mental note to haunt this man every year to Charles’ death day without telling Charles. The school, once again, swept the problem under the carpet and made it appear like an accident. How can someone possibly stone himself while being in the water and then run in an attic? No clever detective would see that as the solution. I said that out loud and it turned out that Charles and I both share a passion for detective stories. That was something to make him smile. But he started to cry again as he saw how desperate his mother and sister were. He hugged me, which was a lot. I never have been hugged before and at first it felt like this demon from hell was gripping around me again. I froze in place and pushed him away in a reflex. Charles stopped. I didn’t tell him about the hell part, but I told him that I am not used to hugs and touches in general. He took it in surprisingly well, but for his own sake I added that I might could get used to it. I hope that I am able to get used to it. Charles sees it as something that he can teach me.

It was just a matter of time till my hell trauma wouldn’t be able to keep hidden anymore. We were in an abandoned apartment, since we both are not staying out the whole night. We don’t have to sleep but it is just too awkward. He usually talks through the whole night and I like his voice even with his weird way of talking. He likes me reading to him. He even carries all my books for me. But as we explored the abandoned house, I discovered an old doll. I overreacted I know. But there was just so much panic inside of me all of the sudden. My fight or flight mood was activated again. I don’t know what Charles did. I don’t know how he managed to stop me from repeating the word ‘Please spare me. I don’t belong in hell.’ I vaguely remember his hands securely holding my head and his shining dark eyes and his calm voice, but I don’t remember his words. He was confused by my sudden changed behavior, but he tried to not show that whole calming me. Once he had calmed me, I obviously had to tell him the truth. I gave him the opportunity to leave me again, but he stayed and he understood, said that this is probably the worst thing someone could have been through. We didn’t speak the rest of the night, but we continued the next day as if nothing had happened.

It is harder to continue my writing as Charles could find out and I don’t want him to know about this. He is so lively. He is jumping and sprinting around, while telling me things and just appears from behind. I cannot risk that. We have a detective agency now. We don’t want that others have their deaths so badly twisted as ours. Another reason was that he had introduced me to a game called Clue, which is basically a detective game, and then we both came up with the idea of starting our own detective agency. He is the brawn and I am the brain. It fits perfectly. We even managed to get a abandoned flat in London. I probably have no time to continue this memoirs, but I will make sure to use my notebook as a case lock book from now own.

I will never tell him about the real meaning of the word Mary Ann. I will never tell him that I had been in the school for a whole year and not just shortly before his death. I will never tell him that I have watched and observed him. I appreciate him now too much. I don’t ever want to lose him.

After that only a whole lot of cases and notes and questions on them followed.

[animalistic0]

Five More Minutes (Part 2.5)

Part 1: Here Part 2: Here Part 3: Here

Plot: A continuation of Just One More Moment. With the group further separated than ever, this could be it. A storm providing cover but also endangering them. A return of someone thought dead, may have drastic consequences.

*Season Four spoilers!*

OC Maybank twin + platonic Pogues x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: OuterBanks, Season 4, Death, Description of death, mentions of murder and murdering, violence, homicidal tendencies, blood, angst, guilt, anger, allusions to abuse, mention of kidnapping, Groff

Word Count: 2.7k+

Note: I hope you all enjoy this; part three should be out pretty quickly, but no promises. I’m getting my wisdom teeth out, so yeah…It’s completely written but I need to go back and edit it. Another warning: Part three and beyond are going to be DARK. Fair warning, again though please enjoy and remember to drink water🫶

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JC turned and followed after JJ and Kiara towards the statue, the crown, and Rafe. Her heart pounding and nausea building in her stomach as everything in her screamed that something would happened. Her instincts begging her to listen and get her family away from here, away from the potential danger she could taste on her tongue. JC kept up the rear of the group, JJ in the front leading them and as they reached Rafe she could barely make out his words as he moved towards them. She could tell it had something to due with his injured hand, as he had pointed at it while holding it up. She’d have to ask him later when they had the crown and everything was calm what happened to his hand.

JC switched her gaze from the tall statue over to JJ as he turned towards Kiara and her, saying he had to do it. JC immediately started shaking her head as Kiara had asked him what. Only for him to repeat himself, leaning closer to the two of them. “I gotta go up there!” Kiara immediately began disagreeing taking her scarf off her mouth so she could speak more clearly, and JC agreed with her, to a degree. Taking her scarf off JC tried not to inhale the sharp sand that was like glass. “Kie’s right. You can’t go up there, but we can’t wait either. I’ll go!”

JC backed into herself as both JJ and Kiara turned towards her, one with a glare and the other with a bewildered expression. Before JJ could even say anything JC took a step forward, her lips pursing as she spoke. “Dammit, Jay. You’re injured and don’t need to climb that. You’re better at driving and I’m better at climbing. I got this.” The twins stared at each other before JJ shook his head, stepping forward like he was gonna hug her but instead swiped her leg out from underneath her. “Sorry June! I gotta do this. I gotta do this for all of us. I mean, hey, it was my fault to begin with. So, I mean, I guess I should be the one to fix it.”

JC immediately began pushing herself up only for Kiara to step over her and push her back down. Except Kiara wasn’t looking at JC, no her eyes were on JJ as she spoke with such admiration and love towards him; “JJ, be careful. I’ll be here waiting on my crown!” All JC was able to make out was JJ calling her Queen Kie, before she shoved Kiara off her and stumbled to her feet. A harsh glare on her face as she shoved Kiara backwards. “What the fuck, dude! Really! What the fuck!” Before she stumbled after her twin, hoping she’d be able to catch him and stop him. She loved that they had each other but she hated how they acted together sometimes. How well they knew each other, how well they knew her, and could get away with shit like that. “Rafe stop him!” She prayed the older male would not only hear her but actually stop him, though a part of her doubted he would.

Rafe heard a faint shout of JC telling him to stop JJ but when he saw the younger Maybank he patted him on the shoulder encouraging him, “You got it.” What Rafe wasn’t expecting was for JJ to grab his shoulders and speak urgently probably trying to get his words out before his sister came. “Hey, you’ll get your cut! And keep JC on the ground.” Rafe nodded, the two slapping each other on the shoulder before JJ moved to climb the statue and Rafe intercepted JC. His arms wrapping around her waist and holding her back from ripping JJ down from the statue.

JC immediately began thrashing, yelling curses and threats at both Rafe and JJ. They didn’t have to worry about anyone else killing them, she was gonna do it. JC immediately went slack in Rafe’s hold as she watched JJ climb up the statue at a decent pace, before he grabbed a loose area and one of his hands slipped. Apparently Rafe was also shocked because JC got free and rushed to the base of the statue, her hands flying up to her head as she stared up at him. It would be idiotic to climb after him, even more to scream at him in this moment so she kept her mouth shut. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as she watched her twin dangle by one hand. Before he caught himself and pulled himself up onto a ledge. JC hit the base of the statue with both her hands before she backed away, placing her scarf back over her mouth as she mumbled underneath her breath; “I’m gonna kill him. Fuck Sakes.”

JC took a breath, wringing her hands as her eyes stayed laser focused on watching him. As a heavy gust of wind hit, JC lifted a hand to protect herself but didn’t look away, her eyes narrowing as she heard Kiara yell; “JJ, we gotta hurry!” JC knew they were all stressed but damn could her friends be some real dumbasses sometimes. She wasn’t no Einstein, but she had some or at least what she believed to be a decent amount of common sense. “Kie shut up. He needs to focus and us yelling at him isn’t going to allow that.” JC hissed through her teeth as she glanced back at Kiara and Rafe, her eyes darling them to disagree or saying something.

Her body grew rigid as all three of them turned around at the sound of voices, not any voices but the Lupine Corsairs collective voices. “Shit!” JC turned back around looking back up at JJ trying to figure out how much further he had and the time it would take. “Shit. Here they come.” JC had to bite her lip to stop the smile that wanted to form due to Rafe’s words. Only for it to disappear as Kiara yelled out warning JJ, and he looked down at them shouting that he was almost there. Shaking her head, JC threw her hands up shouting up at her twin; “Pay attention, Jay!” She didn’t need to hear him say it, she knew he mumbled a sarcastic yes ma’am under his breath and just the thought alone made her smile.

“Hey! Y’all stay here. I’ll go down and buy us some time.” JC turned around and looked at Rafe as he stepped closer to Kiara and her. Once he finished his sentence he immediately turned and began walking, only to turn back around as Kiara spoke. “What? No, Rafe! Are you crazy? They’ll kill you!” JC bit her tongue, thousands of replies forming as she watched them. “Hey! I’m a killer too! I’ve got nothing to lose!” JC shook her head, rushing forward to grab his shoulder as he walked away again. She stopped him right before he lifted his scarf back up, and she lowered hers. Her eyes scanning his, as she watched him. “You have everything to lose, Rafe. Your life, be careful.” She watched as he nodded, lifting both his hands to touch her cheeks, before he lifted her scarf to cover her face. With one last shared longing look, she watched as he turned pulling his own scarf up and disappeared into the sandstorm.

“Shut up Kie!” JC watched as her friend lifted her hands up before they both giggled, the laughter trailing off as they held each other’s hand staring up at JJ. JC turned towards Kie her eyebrows furrowing as she glanced back up at her brother. “Did he say he found something?” She could feel the excitement brewing within her, it felt like they were sixteen again and found the gold, seventeen and found the cross, eighteen and found El Dorado. It felt like the relief that hit her like a freight train when John B texted them that he was in fact alive. The track record for finding the treasure was four for four and JC began bouncing with excitement.

Only for the excitement to fade away as JJ began screaming before he ripped the stone eye out of the statue. Kiara and her shared a glance before they focused back up on JJ, watching him. She felt her heart drop as JJ slipped again, Kiara beginning to shout at him again. This time JC didn’t say anything, keeping her eyes as trained on JJ as she could through the sandstorm. As JJ got himself safely situated on top of the statue she couldn’t help but mumble the words, attaboy as she watched him reach his hand into the open eye socket.

“Holy shit! Kie that’s the crown. KIE THATS THE CROWN! Fuck. Oh my god. Yeah JJ!” JC just knew it was the crown as JJ pulled his arm out and was holding something. Even through the sand she could see some of the shiny blue. She gripped Kiara’s shoulders as she shook the girl before holding her head and facing her brother again. His own excitement and shouts of glee matching hers. She wished that everyone was here to see it, to bask in the moment together like they all deserved. As JJ shouted, “We did it”, JC jumped up and down, shouting it right back at him. She could feel his excitement and it only made her more excited. “Long live Poguelandia!” JC laughed, cheering and whooping at her twins words, before shouting; “Poguelandia forever!”

Kiara brought them both back to reality as she urged JJ to hurry and come down, and JC didn’t think her friend needed to shut up. Still the excitement was buzzing around her system as she gently pushed Kiara, mumbling about how they did it, how JJ did it.

As JJ reached the bottom of the statue and made his way over to them, JC eyed the crown as he immediately showed it to them. “Sweet mother.” They all look at each other before they begin cheering and whooping in excitement. Kiara asking them both if they knew what it meant and JC smiled as she nodded her head. JJ clutching the crown as he spoke like an excited kid; “We’re getting it back. We’re getting back our home.” JC threw her fist up in the air as she shouted a hell yeah. They did it, and now they would save their home. They’d all be set for life, and could travel wherever they wanted. All their dreams would be able to come true. John B and Sarah would be able to have their own house and build their family. Pope would be able to go to school, and Cleo would travel while he did, perhaps even get her own education. JJ and her could go do the surfing trip they always wanted to do, and Kiara could come. Or she could go save the turtles like she always dreamed of. This wasn’t just about home, it was about them, and their dreams, their family. However, most importantly they still had each other.

JJ cut the celebration short as he pointed over Kiara’s shoulder, his face turning grim. “Wait, wait, hey! Go, go, go!” Following his line of sight JC cursed before JJ pushed Kiara and she pushed JJ. All three of them shouting at each other to run. JC ducked as a shot ran out, pushing JJ who was in front of her to run faster. She kept herself behind them, Kiara leading, and JJ in the middle with the crown. Looking over her shoulder as they entered the maze of buildings. All of them having been suspiciously empty since their arrival unless the individuals were hiding which she couldn’t blame them if they were.

JC stumbled behind JJ as they came to a fork in the road, her twin pointing to the left as Kiara stood in the right section entrance. She called after Kiara as the girl went down the other one, claiming she thought it was this way. JC didn’t notice how JJ leaned up against the wall covering his eyes, as she was busy chasing after Kie. She paused in the entrance of the next area glancing behind her as she didn’t see JJ, her eyes glancing over to Kiara who continued on. “Hey, wait we lost Jay!” JC wasn’t able to get out anything else as Groff exited the building holding a knife to Kiara’s through. Her hands immediately flew up as she rushed down the steps, stopping as Groff tightened his grip on her friend. “Let. Her. Go.”

Kiara had called for JJ, and he came rushing into the area not paying attention as he shut the door and leaned against it. Before Kiara called for him again and he looked up, everything in him stopping as he saw the love of his life being held by his father and his twin standing in front of them.

Groff brightened up as JJ appeared, calling his son’s name as the crown was held so all could see it. JC stepped to the side, trying to protect her brother as best as she could. JC cringed as JJ rushed forward a desperate and protective, “You let her go!” leaving him. Juniper wished she had kept her knife, because it would have come in handy right now. She held her brother’s forearm as Groff gripped Kiara tighter, causing her to moan in pain and fear. “Stop right there. Don’t move. Shh. You know what I want. Give it to me!” JC was glaring daggers into Groff as JJ and her spoke simultaneously; “Just let her go.”

Everything in her life came down to moments. This was one of those moments where she needed more time, needed a way to figure out how to get them all out safely. She hated how quickly they could go from being the happiest and most excited people alive to fighting for their very lives the next second. JC lived and thrived in chaos and moments like these, but she was also growing tired of watching her family be in danger. She just wanted her family to be happy, they deserved it. More than anyone she had ever and would ever know. “You could’ve stuck with me, JJ. And you, JC could have given me a chance. Think what you both could’ve had. But now, you’re going to get nothing. Nothing.”

“No. I already have everything. We have everything. And I have everything I’ve ever wanted. Things that you’ll never have.” JC looked at her brother, proud of him as she turned and nodded her head agreeing with her twin. She didn’t miss the tears that Groff blinked away, and it made her satisfied that he felt something. “You want the crown? Sure, take it. Take it. I don’t want it. Just…let her go.” JC watched with bated breath as JJ held out the crown, no hesitation or doubt anywhere on his features. A hand held out the crown as the other reach for Kiara, and JC slid her foot forward. Ready to intervene in any way possible.

JC let out a breath as Groff got the crown and JJ immediately grabbed Kiara spinning her so he was between her and Groff. JC took a step back, so she was right beside JJ, her shoulder to her father. She watched as Kiara and JJ hugged, before they pulled her into the hug. The three of them hugging each other as tight as possible. Another dance with death, and another survival. At this point JC believes death wasn’t even gonna be able to kill them.

JC pulled back from the hug as Groff spoke her twins name. She immediately turned to face him, moving to stand in front of her family as she glared at the older male. Hatred clear on her face as she sneered at him. She grunted as JJ laid a hand on her shoulder, gently moving her out of the way so he could face their father. “It’s a shame. You and me.”

The sound of flesh squelching and Kiara gasping filled the air. Before JJ let out a groan, Groff stepping closer as he spoke; “You should have given me…the rope.” It sounded like Groff was digging the knife in deeper and twisting it, and as he pulled it out JJ groaning once again JC lunged forward punching the man in the jaw. He staggered back, a look of shock and surprise on his face before he laughed. It was sinister and evil, his eyes blazing as he stared at his daughter. “Bet you wished you’d have killed me.” Then Groff turned and ran away.

[snowmoonwrites]

Virus: Chibify! Chapter1

Tokyo Debunker fic. General audience, Full Fluffy crack. Let's put the ghouls into onesies! First victim? Lyca!

A new Curse have been going rampant in the Academy. No one knew how it started, who was the perpetrator, or what was the reason for it all. What everyone knew is that it left people as toddlers for 24 hours. Not more, not less. Given that it was not malicious in nature, at least it didn’t seem to be so, the Academy said it is an anomaly virus that will have to run its course.

That is what you all have been told, at least. You thought that the ghouls, just like usual, will be immune to this as well. At least, that was what you thought. Until you stepped into Obscuary’s dorm to get a signature from Lyca on one of the forms. When asked, Rui told you Lyca hadn’t left his room that day left, and feel free to barge in. While uncomfortable with the idea, after several minutes of futile knocking you opened the door. And what welcomed you was a sight you weren’t ready for. Instead of the grown-up Lyca, in the bed was a small child, curled up into a ball.

As you went closer, the boy’s eyes snapped open, turning to face you. A growl left his throat, but it immediately died out when he saw you. He probably retained at least some part of his memories if he recognized you. Or maybe your scent was familiar. Either way, he tilted his head to the side, looking positively like a puppy. Oh, my! That is exactly what he was after all! OH NO! You shook yourself, this is not the time for this! You lifted him up, bundling him into too-big clothes, and ran out. 

“Rui!” When his head appeared at the other end of the stairs you showed him Lyca in your arms. “I don’t think you all are immune to the virus.”

“Clearly not,” he replied letting you pass by. “I don’t think we have anything that would fit him.”

Oh, yeah, you can’t make Lyca go through the day butt naked. Clearly, that would not be wise. But you also couldn’t let him bi in his oversized clothes either. You knew from experience that asking the Academy will do you no good.

“I’ll manage it somehow. I’ll bring him back when he is back to a reasonable age.” You nodded to Rui while walking out of the dorm. While walking through the garden you opened your phone and called the one person you knew will be able to get you onesies in less than an hour. 

“Yes”

“Umm… Not to sound strange… But would you be able to get me onesies for children around…” You looked at Lyca in your arms. “How old are you now?” When the answer was a confused face you let it go. “Two? Maybe three years old of age?”

“The virus?”

“The virus. It turns out you ghouls are not at all immune to it either.” Maybe your voice showed a bit too much of glee as you could hear a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the line.

“How many do you need?”

“Around 21?” 

“Got it. Come pick it up in an hour.”

The phone call ended without any more words exchanged. It was typical, you just shrugged and made your way towards Frostheim. You looked down at Lyca, bouncing him a bit in your arms.

“How about we go see Subaru-kun after we get you some new clothes?”

Lyca’s ears perked up, it seemed like he wasn’t fully able to control his transformation. Whether it was an age thing or the Cursevirus, you didn’t know. He looked up at you, very excited as his tail wagged in a furious rhythm. You would have bet your entire life that Lyca knew who you were talking about.

When you stepped into Frostheim you were greeted by several students tending to small toddlers. They sent you sympathetic looks. At least theirs aren’t ghouls. You are still afraid what will happen with some of the others when they get turned into toddlers. Will Ed become a human again? The virus was too confusing for you, and even Yuri said he knows next to nothing about it. Which clearly hurt his pride to admit.

Well, given the situation, you decided to focus on the task at hand. You walked up to Jin’s room and knocked 5 times as usual. When your phone vibrated, you walked right in, knowing you got permission to enter. Or at least you thought that was what it meant! But clearly not! Jin was half naked, pulling up his shirt. You squeaked and put a hand before the small Lyca’s eyes.

“You should read the message.” Jin drawled, not in a hurry to hide his naked torso. And you felt no shame at looking. Well, one of your arms was holding Lyca, the other covering his eyes. You had no free hand. What were you supposed to do? Turn around? Maybe? Walk out? Possibly. But you didn’t care at all. 

“Where are the onesies?” You looked over the room, looking for a big pile of children’s clothing. You spotted a box next to the bed, nodded towards it. “Is that it?” 

Jin grunted in an affirmative. Finally finishing buttoning up his shirt. “I did not choose them. I take no criticism for them.”

“Got it.” You set down Lyca on the bed and opened up the box, lifting out the nicely folded onesies. They were all animal themed… Hmmm… You looked through them. Some of them, you instantly knew which ghoul should wear when they get infected. Some, you were hesitant about. You fished out the wolf one and helped Lyca into it. A cheesy choice. But he looked so cute! 

Your phone’s folder will be full of cute ghouls! You snapped a quick photo before helping Lyca down from the bed.

“Let’s go surprise Subaru-kun, hmm?” You reached out, and Lyca grabbed onto your hand, pulling you towards the door.

“Go! Let’ go! Let’s go to Suba-kun!”

“I’ll pick up the clothes on my way home.” You called out to Jin as you let Lyca pull you towards the door. He stepped in front of you two, eliciting a growl from Lyca’s throat. 

“I’ll make one of the brats bring it to your dorm. The child might not turn back till much later.” He patted your head then stole a kiss onto your forehead before moving out of the way and letting the kiddified Lyca pull you towards Hotarubi. Clearly following his nose rather than basing anything on his knowledge. Thankfully the onesies came with protective shoes, so you won’t have to carry all the boys around all day.

During your walk you wrote to Subaru to let him know that you are bringing a virus affected Lyca. He wrote back about his willingness to host you both till Lyca got better. You thanked him, telling him you two are on your way. 

When you arrived at the edge of the dorm, where sunny weather turned into everlasting rain, Subaru stood there waiting for you with a spare umbrella. Lyca made uppie hands towards him. Subaru instantly took him into his hands.

“Ah, let me hold the umbrella so you won’t get wet.” You took the umbrella and put it over them. While you got a little wet, at least the small Lyca got through the rain without a speck of raindrop. All the while he was talking off Subaru’s ear about all the things with the enthusiasm only small children have.

As you walked into the room, Haku threw a towel on your shoulder, scolding you for not taking care of yourself better. You let him and Zenji fuss over you, keeping an eye on Lyca, who seemed to be an energetic child, who liked to talk off Subaru’s ear. He totally had favourite persons. He didn’t even spare a glance at Haku, but pulled you closer so you all could listen to his tales about chasing squirrels in the forest. Whether these were such fond memories that they stayed with him, or if they got clearer due to the virus, you didn’t know. It was certainly cute.

What made your day perhaps was the way Haku got a carton box out of nowhere, and put the small Lyca into it, who immediately claimed it as his new den. And if Haku tried to go even an inch closer that Lyca deemed safe, his ears would perk up, a growl leaving him. But then he would look at Subaru, waiting to be chastised and he would take out his best puppy eyes to look pitiful.

Your phone’s gallery held new pictures, a folder dedicated to smol ghouls now. You were looking forward to gathering more.

ALSO Guys. I made a Kofi. So feel free to send me your love over there too <3

[fandoms-in-law]

Ophelia's Son: Abigail

Summary: Abigail Adams turns up at the Harrington house to try and get Steve to help her schemes. Nobody agrees with her.

Following on from these Ophelia's Son Smoking and What Will Grow

Mostly inspired by the Feud in the Addams Family episode for those who know the 60's series.

/\

Since meeting the Addams’s and especially since he first had the flower crown take root, Steve had come to expect a few new reactions when customers entered Family Video. None of those helped when Nancy came storming in, not even reacting to him as she seized the phone, “Hello, Welcome to Family – Hey! Nancy, you can’t just use the phone.” He switched to complaining mid greeting.

As he impatiently watched, she dialled a number that looked like it was noted in his handwriting and held a finger up to emphasise she wanted him to wait while she called rather than complain about it immediately.

“Hello Mr Addams, I’m Nancy, a friend of Steve’s.” She greeted cheerfully and he snorted at the formality. He was sure the first reply would be something about calling him Gomez but resolved to carry on listening to why-ever his uncle had been called.

“Yes, he’s well… Yes, I’ll tell him, but I am calling for a reason sir… Yes sir, an Abigail Adams turned up at his house this morning. I was dropping something off and… Okay… I’ll do what I can… I’ll let Steve know to expect her. Thank you.” Nancy stared at the phone for a moment, a little surprised the call had finished so quickly though Steve wasn’t. While Morticia took her time to speak and think through her words, Gomez often spoke quickly and acted impulsively.

He cleared his throat after a moment of her staring though, still annoyed that Nancy had come all the way to Family Video to make a call she clearly could have done at his house. All the party knew where his spare key was kept after all.

“Sorry.” She apologised a little sheepishly, “That Abigail woman wasn’t leaving so I didn’t want to unlock the door after I’d locked it. I think she’s still parked outside your house, set on waiting until you’re home.”

“Okay, that explains why you called from here, but not why you’d brought the number with you or why you wanted to call them before telling me this.” Steve stated, unimpressed with her actions still. “Also who should I be expecting other than Abigail?”

Nancy glanced back at the phone. “Mama? Granmama? I think for you it’d be the latter, apparently she wants to fight Abigail over something, or they all dislike her, maybe. And I wanted to call them because Abigail mentioned how you or she should be head of the Addams family rather than Gomez. I didn’t mention that to him, did I?”

“Nope, but if she’s tried taking over before that might explain them disliking her.” He offered. “Maybe you could head to the library to see if anything about her has reached Hawkins newspapers.”

Nancy smiled, nodding and clearly happy to have something to research over the encounter that must have been more than stated given how unsettled she still seemed.

/\

He knew Abigail was someone disliked by his Aunt and Uncle and knew that she was probably still outside his house, but Steve was not expecting to have “Mr Harrington!” called out as soon as he got out of his car, nor the dark haired lady in a dress suit and kitten heels hurrying over to him while he straightened up.

“Steve, if I may. I so wanted to meet you. I’m your relative, Abigail Adams. Richard suggested I visit and I’m sure you’re just as charming as your father is.” The words were genially said but immediately soured him on her. Anyone his father liked was someone to be wary of, but also likely to be mentioned and bring anger if he scorned her.

Steve decided to worry over his fathers reaction later and headed towards the house, “Congratulations Abigail, you’ve met me.” He sarcastically called. “Leave now and you can keep that impression. Stay and I’ll have a fair few families helping you leave soon enough.”

“What?” She asked, shocked but so far keeping pace and intent on inviting herself in.

Steve smiled coldly, unlocking and stepping through the door fully enough to block her entry as he turned around. “Delighted. Goodbye.” He slammed the door, biting back an annoyed groan as locked it and heard knocking immediately start up.

He wondered what would happen in an hour when everyone started arriving for Hellfire since she was likely to still be there it seemed.

/\

“Hey, Harrington?” Gareth popped his head into the kitchen uncertainly.

Steve smiled warmly, carrying on setting out the snacks for the evening, “Yup, what’s up?”

“A couple ladies just invited themselves in and seem like they’re having the most polite fight ever.” Gareth glanced back over his shoulder as Eddie’s voice could be heard cheerfully greeting Granmama.

For a moment Steve frowned, “Was one of them the woman in a dress suit who’s been sat in her car all evening?”

“Yes. I know you said we shouldn’t let her in, but-”

“Don’t worry about it,” He interrupted the apology he could hear coming. “Perhaps if I let her say whatever it is she wants I’ll get her to actually leave.”

For all he hadn’t expected that to actually work, Abigail did leave to find a hotel after making her case for the head of the Addams family to him, often raising her voice as Granmama corrected, challenged or just interrupted her. He was sure that wasn’t the end of it though, especially when Nancy mentioned while picking Mike and Will up that this would be the fourth attempt Abigail had made to take control of the Addams fortune.

/\

Robin had come over to hang out and Dustin had refused to go home, even with Eddie giving everyone lifts. Both of them claimed they wanted to meet an actual Addams, not a Frump like Steve and his mother and had been getting along with Granmama for most of it.

Steve had been telling them about his first encounter with Abigail which had led to Robin and him joking over Starcourt and the Russian code, laughing between themselves since Dustin rarely found it funny given what happened next.

“Ah, young love.” Granmama smiled at the sight of the pair.

Dustin nodded, grinning broadly, “I know right! I keep telling them-”

“We’re not dating.” Steve and Robin cut off his insistence that that should date, matching glares on their faces as they stopped giggling together.

Granmama looked indignant at the words. “Only you reacted happily to her Russian. It’s only reasonable.”

“We went through stuff together around Russians. It’s not a romance language.” Steve explained, brow furrowed and shaking his head at how little sense she made.

“I’ll whip up some love dust. That’ll sort you.” Granmama nodded.

“No!” Both snapped, Steve adding on, “In fact you’re banned from the kitchen while you’re here. I’ll do the cooking as normal, thank you.”

Granmama nodded, “Well that’s just good manners, but I’ll still get some. It’ll do you good if the Russian reaction says anything. Just like the French one.”

Robin and Steve shared a look. “We’re not going to ask right now, and we’re never going to date. No need for any dust love or otherwise to fail at that.” Robin spoke for them this time. “It’s Platonic with a capital P.”

“And they’ll always say that.” Nancy agreed, knocking on the door frame. “That Abigail is a piece of work from everything I’ve read. Actually, before we all met Ophelia, that’s how I’d imagined her.”

“Can’t blame you there but it’s my father who acts like her.” Steve shrugged. “I think Will offered to have El try spying to figure out a way to get her to back off too.”

Nancy smiled, letting out a heavy breath. “Good. I really don’t like what I found.”

“I said Fester should’ve come with me. He might not be one for travel but he will shoot her in the back quick as you like. Might even hit her.” Granmama cheerfully suggested. “I’ve got my axe but that’s messy and I know Ophelia will plant daisies in our garden if I upset this house.”

“Hm, I could do that, but let’s see what secrets we can get to silence her first.” Nancy nodded, as if the suggestion was reasonable when they weren’t facing the Upside Down.

Steve held his hands up, looking commandingly between the two, “No. We do not condone murder outside of Hawkins events here. What would the kids start doing if we did?”

“Torture?” Granmama offered, as if that was a better suggestion.

He huffed, “Yes, they probably would start doing that too. So we won’t. See what you and El find out. Then blackmail her gone.”

/\

Apparently nothing more needed doing for Abigail to leave. She did stop by before going, asking Steve to call off the cousins or ghosts.

He played innocent and wondered if there were invisible Addams cousins or if El had decided to go further than just spying and instead moved things around to make Abigail think she was getting haunted. Either way she seemed to have given up on taking over the Addams family once more and that hopefully meant she’d leave him alone too.

“Morticia and Gomez will be visiting with the kids when school holidays start, but they’ll be happy to hear about you before then.” Granmama brightly said as a car pulled up outside. “And I’ll make sure they have love dust with them then.”

“You really don’t have to.” Steve gave a false smile. “I’ve got a partner already.”

He really hoped that meeting more of the Addams family wouldn’t get more pressures on him to date Robin, even if he was curious why reacting to a language being spoken would equate to love.

[wannabanauthor]

Since I’ve had more time to process the breakup and have read fellow shippers’ thoughts, I can see why Tommy decided to end the relationship.

Although I have no faith in the writers or Tim anymore, they can turn this around if they choose to.

And here’s how:

So the breakup scene makes sense through a PTSD lens. And I’m talking just about PTSD in general, not army related.

When you’re dealing with a PTSD episode, until it’s over, there is very little anyone can say or do to get you out of it. Your brain will not listen because it’s stuck in a loop and you can’t get out until it lets you.

Breathing techniques work, but the amount of emotions and nonsense you say will not let up until it runs its course. I’m speaking from experience, but I can’t say much about it because lawyers, etc.

Once it’s over, the amount of guilt you have for all the horrible things you said or did will hit you hard.

So for Tommy, he was fine until Buck asked him to move in with him. Tommy’s smile dropped instantly and he went into panic mode. It escalated when Buck mentioned engagement and marriage.

I think it’s possible a mixture of guilt over Abby and past experiences with other queer newbies, that set him off into a PTSD spiral.

Buck unknowingly hit a trigger(s), and Tommy instantly shut down.

That conversation went from Abby to moving in, and it was completely out of left field. There was no real buildup to it from Buck. He just asked Tommy and made this sort of people-pleasing speech. Instead of tackling the actual problem, Buck just went straight for progressing their relationship to another level.

Tommy’s guilt and past heartbreak flared up, and he probably thought he was back in that mental space after he broke up with Abby and dated someone and thought they would be forever, but it didn’t work out.

So he starts saying things like he can’t move in because Buck’s still new to his sexuality. He’s picking up the signs that he’s seen in previous relationships that obviously didn’t work out, and he got scared and panicked.

He really liked Buck and didn’t want them to go the same route as his past relationships where he either was the newbie or dated a newbie and thought it would be forever.

He’s stuck in the spiral and can’t see a way out because he’s terrified of getting his heartbroken if things don’t work out. So he ends the relationship and leaves. It doesn’t make sense to the audience or anyone else, but if you look at it from the PTSD perspective, it does make sense. Again speaking from personal experience.

Now am I saying this was intentional from the writers and Tim? No, not at all. They’re not smart enough for that. At least I don’t think they are. Only future episodes will confirm or deny this.

Now how to fix it:

Tommy has an emergency appointment with his therapist. He’s going to need it before and after the PTSD episode is over. The guilt and heartbreak from ending things with Buck is going to hurt him a lot. Especially since he called Evan “Buck” right after breaking up with him. He didn’t even realize that he ended things until Buck asked.

Once the episode is over, he’s going to need to process the whole relationship all over with the therapist and figure out where to go from there.

It’ll take him a few weeks maybe less/more before he reaches out to Buck to talk. It’ll be a reverse image of their coffee date, with him making the first step to mend things.

I think they could get back together and work it out, but they’d need to take a few steps back and probably go into couples counseling. Buck would also need his own therapist because he still needs to process being bisexual and actually using the word.

If they get back together, I can see them starting from the beginning again and progressing extremely slowly. Buck needs to learn not to rush into things. Even though he likes Tommy so much, he definitely was not thinking clearly when he asked Tommy to move in. There wasn’t even a natural transition in the conversation. It’s like Buck was having the conversation in his head and spoke out loud, which is a common adhd trait.

Tim Minear and the writers could get a few seasons content out of BuckTommy if they wanted even with how things ended in 8x06.

Now do I think this was the intention? Nope. The breakup seemed rushed and abrupt, and for all we know Tommy is gone forever. We can’t trust any interviews from anyone, so I have very little hope that Buck and Tommy can come back from this. I don’t trust the writers or Tim.

So there, I managed to cobble together some explanation for the breakup.

[ragana62]

I have always thought that not only would Corlys have 100% backed her if she decided she wanted to fight for her claim, but probably already had plans in motion to support her in doing so even before the council had concluded. Probably even before it had commenced. Honestly, he very well could have started the planning the day he walked out of the Small Council when she was passed over for Baelon.

He’s not an idiot. The odds of her claim, or her son’s claim, being accepted over Viserys’s claim were relatively slim once it came down to the council instead of just a family matter. Even if she had been chosen, the odds that some Lords might take issue with the idea of swearing loyalty to a Queen who threatened to undermine their own claims to their seats/future succession lines by her very existence were never zero. Either way, there’s a very real hypothetical future war there that will take some careful maneuvering, because they do have ships and a dragon and loyal banners to help support the claim, but so does most any other hypothetical faction in that conflict. It would be stupid not to plan accordingly.

That war probably wasn’t 100% hypothetical the night the verdict was read, in my opinion, particularly when there were such strong (and tbh easily offended/insulted) personalities like Corlys and her Baratheon kin supporting her. I don’t think it’s a matter of “Rhaenys could have fought for her claim, but decided not to and that shows her priorities and temperament vs. some of her kin’s priorities and temperament”. I think there was a moment where she walked into a room prepared to have to face pity and was met instead with a war table, with maps, with strategies, with men already planning her war for her and she had to say “no, I’m upset, but I’m not going to kill my cousins over this, I’m not going to burn the realm for this, I’m not going to endanger my own children over this, etc.”, and do so in a manner that forced them to listen to her over their pride.

For me, that’s also a lot more powerful. It’s not a simple “oh I care more about my family than I do my own power” or even an “I’m clever enough to know it wouldn’t be good for anyone to burn half our crops and kill half the houses in the kingdoms only ~100 years after the conquerors did it and rule over the ashes to spare my pride”. It’s a “I chose to wield my power, the same power that makes me qualified for the very throne I was just denied, not to take the throne, but to actively prevent others for taking it for me because I am intelligent and compassionate enough to know it won’t be worth it when the dust settles.”.

I think Viserys and Daemon know that, or at least that Rhaenys could very easily have gone to war over it. Daemon was raising an army of his own during the council to support Viserys, that’s not something you do if you aren’t expecting a fight after. Something tells me, if Rhaenys had to actively stop the war instead of just saying “not worth it, let’s go home” before the plans were made, they don’t know that. For Daemon in particular, it shows weakness on her part, it shows she never was meant to be on the throne BECAUSE she wouldn’t fight for it, it shows she is hampered by things like sentimentality that keep her from doing what she needs to do, and that shows in how he interacts with her years after. Viserys I think has a better sense of it, or at least is sentimental enough himself to respect and be grateful for what he sees as a choice to prioritize family over personal gain. That also clearly shows in how he views her and interacts with her.

Not to go full conspiracy theorist with this, but I think that there are elements of that hypothetical war in Rhaenyra’s real war. The blockade of the gullet at the very least is too immediate to have not been a hypothetical sitting out there that just needed the word to implement. I also think that her efforts (in the show at least) to try and circumvent the war show that Rhaenys knows this is very much just her war pushed back a few decades with the cast of players shuffled slightly and even more dragons in play to raise the stakes. Both philosophically (eldest daughter/daughter of the eldest son who was raised being told the throne would be hers one day vs. younger son/son of the younger son who is at the very least a bit reluctant or ill suited to the job but is still somewhat preferred by many for reasons utterly unrelated to job performance) and practically (Rhaenyra is surrounded by people who want this war, not necessarily because they believe in her or her claim, but because they think supporting her and winning it puts them in a better position than they could have joining the opposition whether that’s through existing ties of blood or marriage or just because they can get a higher position in the Black council than the Green one at this stage and hope to leverage it or else simply settle a score of their own through the war. Rhaenys absolutely was as well even if my head cannon is entirely bullshit).

Insisting on one final attempt at negotiation (because while there is no case to justify calling Rhaenyra going in person to King’s Landing to have a little chat with Alicent in the show a good choice, “hey, I know for a fact they aren’t all all in on the war, diplomacy isn’t weakness if it saves lives and gets results” absolutely is sound council and something Rhaenyra isn’t hearing from her other councilors) can be seen as more sentimentality, more weakness. Daemon certainly sees it as such at times. Coming from someone who only a few decades prior was in the exact same position and had to pull the realm back from the brink of war herself, it also reads as “Look, I know exactly how some of these strong personalities think, that so many of these people would be happy to wage war for their own pride and ambition through you and your younger brother, and it will be horrible and costly if you let them. I see your hesitation, I see hesitation in some of your opposition. Make sure it is worth it, that it is what YOU want, and that there isn’t another way forward, before you turn them loose. Don’t go to war just because Daemon wants to fight or because it seems like there is no other way forward with all these people whispering in your ear that it is inevitable and necessary.”

I think it’s easy to write Rhaenys off as “oh, she’s just the motherly voice of compassion and reason”, in part because that is very much what her family tends to do with her as well. And she is that, at times. It’s also easy to take some of her girlboss lines from the show and her temper from the book and turn her into some bitter and angry person who only joins Rhaenyra’s war to settle her own scores of lingering resentment. She can also be that at times. But I think, on a fundamental level, what she is, is aware. Aware of the people around her and what they assume about both her and each other, aware of the fact that nothing is ever so simple as a Rhaenyra vs Aegon conflict when there are too many other voices in the council rooms who all want something of their own, aware that it is all a game at the end of the day and that like all games, there are different ways to play it and different prizes to aim for instead of it needing to be entirely all or nothing. Whether that’s taking one look at Rhaenyra and saying “you don’t actually want a war, you are hurt and you want freedom” or at Daemon to say “really, he could do without the fancy chair and crown so long as he doesn’t have to kneel and submit himself before whoever does have them, which is probably why he’s so bad at actually being in charge of most anything without getting bored or annoyed”, or taking one look at both councils and recognizing that this is their war more than either claimant’s and that if that is true there might be another way out of it once again.

She listens more than she speaks, because she knows that all speaking accomplishes is giving your claimed allies and potential enemies leverage, and that people will give away a lot when they don’t see the person in the room with them as a potential threat, or indeed even see them at all. She preaches diplomacy over combat, not because she can’t fight when required, but because she knows what battles cost and that it’s not always worth it.

It’s easy to forget (particularly because it’s not even mentioned in the show), that the whole reason the council was necessary in the first place, was because her father was killed in a war when she herself was young and pregnant and her uncle was named heir in her place before dying himself, are you really expecting me to believe she didn’t take one look at Rhaenyra on Dragonstone, losing Visenya in her grief over her father, and have to take a moment to push down the complicated emotions that brought up? Her own grief for her father and the life she could have had had he lived, the grief of losing her own children, her frustration that once again a princess was being so easily cast aside and the bitterness that even if she repeats a million times over it doesn’t bother her anymore, it still does bother her, just a little bit, when the old wound is opened again in just the right way?

So when Rhaenyra finds herself surrounded by hotheaded lords all pushing her to raise armies and burn the realm for her throne, and Rhaenys watches as she loses another child to the war almost immediately, ignores her own grief to try and present something akin to the powerful front she thinks is expected of her only to find herself still struggling to be seen or heard by the very people who claim to be doing all of this for her, of course it’s personal. Even if her grandchildren weren’t caught up in all of it, if there wasn’t a risk that either faction saw a refusal to pick sides from her as a liability and tried to eliminate her as a potential third claimant, I think she’d have been on Dragonstone to at least advise Rhaenyra if not lend her practical support. At the end of the day, it’s still her war, even if it’s no longer her name being shouted in the battle cries, at least in her mind. If it is going to be fought this time, with so little personally left to lose, she’s determined to fight it herself.

You know had Rhaenys wanted to, she could have started a war over her own claim. Corlys would have 100% backed his wife and they do have a fleet and dragons etc. But the fact that she didn’t shows her fundamental character imo.

[huitandahalf]

I know that we got plenty of options as to how everything with the Ender King is going to go down, but a thought that has not left my mind was the idea of the Ender King downing qPhil in some way and taking him away. Which means there would be a chat message for all to see :)

For example :)

[keets-writing-corner]

guess who's still thinking about Lucifer >.<

anyways thought it'd be fun, given my previous post about his dissociation with conversations, to try and guess what his takeaways were from his phone call with Charlie based on his reactions

Maybe I'm wrong about what he's catching and what he's missing but either way I had fun

strike through= what he missed bold=what he caught neither bold nor strikethrough= he might've heard it/made it out through the white noise, but not enough to connect the dots RED= only heaven is in red cuz you cannot convince me otherwise that that's not a trigger word for him

Idk thought it’d be fun to try and guess what Lucifer is ACTUALLY hearing with his dissociation filter on let's GO

Lucifer: [insert absolute fail of hello]

Charlie: Hi Dad! Lucifer: Hey! How are ya? Oh! Wh-wh-where are you these days? Charlie: You know where I am, Dad… I’ve told you before…

Lucifer: You hAve? Oh. yeah Uh, erm well I um uh

Charlie: I told you when you called me five months ago! Or did you not listen?

Lucifer: No no no just forgot! I just forgot. I’ve been really busy with you know… um. iMpOrTanT tHiNgS

Charlie: Well I’m actually running a hotel to rehabilitate sinners, maybe you saw our commercial?

Lucifer: No? Sadly I… missed it!  Lucifer: You know I haven’t been watching much TV lately! Scrambles the brain!  Lucifer: but hey! A hotel! Fun!

Charlie: Listen, Dad, I’ve got kinda… a big ask?

Lucifer: -spit take- Yeah?! Of course! Anything in my power is yours for the asking you just name it

Charlie: I need to speak to heaven! Well, whoever’s in charge up there above Adam above anybody, I need to go to the top!

Lucifer: NO Lucifer: no no no no Lucifer: That’s uhahah no…

Charlie: Look! Dad! I don’t ask you for much. I never have, but this-this is really important to me. It’s the most important thing I’ve ever done and I… need… you… I need your help

Lucifer: I-... I don’t know Charlie

Charlie: Please just- Come see what I’m trying to do. You’ll see why it’s a really good idea and heaven is bound to agree if I get the chance to talk to them

Charlie: Please dad

Lucifer: wait… you’re… INVITING ME OVER??? Lucifer: ABSOLUTELY Lucifer: I’LL BE THERE IN AN HOUR

___

so yeah, he can semi follow along but like crucial bits and pieces ARE being left out

[volitioncheck]

i think i wouldn’t hate disco elysium’s collage mode nearly as much if it weren’t for 1) the way that it was marketed in such a tasteless, soulless manner, let alone the fact that it was a last ditch distraction from a dead on its feet studio piloted by dumbass thieving execs and released on the day of the court declaration, and 2) those dumbass fucking stickers

like if it had been included with the base game from the start and had been titled something a bit more tasteful and in-line with how i would have liked the feature to be marketed as— something like “exploration mode”, something that perhaps could only be unlocked after completing the game for the first time, AND didn’t have those stupid as hell visually and tonally incongruent with the artstyle stickers, i would have applauded it as a nice little bonus for being able to study and appreciate the 3d models and environments for reference.

[tozettastone]

"That other unnamed Grimmjow/Ichigo (Bleach) fic," is actually a fic in which I skimmed so many of the omegaverse fics (which, can confirm, I still don't enjoy) and a bunch of the mating cycles/in heat fics and decided I too could write about the hollow urge to bone.

It's a fic about how Ichigo experiences a fairly minor change in his libido relating to the awakening of his inner hollow and, because he is a teenager, responds like the world is ending.

My draft is a draft and subject to change, but this is the vibe:

"Like a cow?" is the first thing Ichigo thinks to say, puffed up in indignation. It's not Ichigo's fault, really. He remembers, very vaguely, a life sciences class from when he was fifteen. Everyone picked an animal about which to research the life cycle. Ichigo, naturally, had been late — important shinigami business, naturally — and the only approved animal left had been domestic cattle. That was the last time he heard the word "oestrus." It has been living on the back shelf of his brain ever since. It's definitely not a term he expects to hear used about himself! Urahara blinks at him from over his fan. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. "Not... exactly," he says. Ichigo gets the sense that he has, for once, surprised him. "Many mammals experience oestrus cycles, Kurosaki-kun. Humans are actually in the minori—" "Urahara-san... Is this some kind of bad joke?" Ichigo can't imagine otherwise, but he also can't figure out why this is the joke Urahara is telling. His sense of humour usually runs high to pervy shit, but it's usually aimed at pretty young girls, not... "You're telling me everyone with an inner hollow is going around in — in season?" Like a farm animal? "Ah. No." Urahara tilts his head so that the shine of one eye peeks out from under the shadow of his hat. "This kind of thing... it's hollow biology. It's not something that affects vizards. I've never seen it on paper before and I've never studied its effects." "If it doesn't happen to vizards, why would it happen to me?" Ichigo demands. Urahara tucks one hand behind his head and titters an obnoxious little laugh, because he's clearly not taking this anywhere near as seriously as Ichigo wishes he would. "You're unique! It's hard to predict these things with your hybrid biology, you know. But as far as I know, there's no reason to suspect it will make you do anything you don't already want to. You'll probably find yourself shorter tempered and more restless, and what you want in a partner may change for the duration." His smile gets a smidge wider. "This is a confusing time of any young man's life, Kurosaki-kun, but you shouldn't worry if you have any... new urges." New urges. New urges. Like he's twelve and just discovering his dick can get hard at inopportune times? He surfaces from his mortification for long enough to scrunch up his face. "That doesn't make any sense," Ichigo protests. "I can't be... doing that. For one, I'm a man." Urahara snaps his fan open just to use it to gesture dramatically, like if he pulls off a flashy enough act Ichigo will somehow resist the temptation to smack him in the face with it. Ichigo will not resist that temptation. "Ah, but these measurements suggest otherwise, Kurosaki-kun. It's not really dependent on sex for hollows, either... they don't reproduce sexually. Besides! Who knows, perhaps there's a lonely hollow love out there just waiting for you to imprint on he — Oof! Ouch!" Ichigo tosses the lightly bloodied fan onto the desk, turns on his heel and stalks towards the shop's entrance. Chad blinks up from his intense staring competition with Jinta, but whatever he sees in Ichigo's face is enough to prevent him from following him. "Aya... my own fan," sighs Urahara behind him. Then he raises his voice, so that what follows Ichigo out into the rainy Kurakara afternoon is: "It's important to keep an open mind, Kurosaki!" "Pass!" Ichigo bellows back.

Anyway I'm going to ruin his life. For fun! :)

Okay, here's what's going on right now:

I was going to name the Ishida/Szayel (Bleach) fic "The Way To The Top" but despite the subject matter it has turned out way less comedic than I thought it would be, so I may have to rename it. Regardless, it's currently 18,000 words long and still somehow going.

The latest Maddieverse fic (Naruto) is "Where The Heart Is" and it's currently 22,000 words long. I am more or less still following the outline and have not run into any sudden debilitating snags. It continues.

That other unnamed Grimmjow/Ichigo (Bleach) fic is 3,000 words long so far. It's intended to be a one shot, but it feels like it's only about 30% done. I don't think I signed up for a 10k word fic but what the hell do I know.

I've also written 2,500 words of a prompt fic in which Maddie meets Sakura but I haven't ended it properly yet. But that also exists, I guess?

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN