#and because it's mostly remote i have all the free time in the world again instead of spending an extra 3 hours a day prepping and driving

[prepickles]

i most certainly didn't accidentally forget tumblr exists for months once again

[tossawary]

Rewatching some of "Merlin" again and... I really love worldbuilding where I'm not sure the creators were thinking through all the implications. Like, the show opens with the King overseeing the execution of a man, Thomas Collins, who used magic (not even to commit actual harm as far as we know) and the crowd is dead silent during Uther's solemn anti-magic speech. Then they GASP in horror and disgust when the poor guy gets beheaded offscreen, and they remain dead silent as Uther's speech continues, declaring a festival to celebrate 20 years since the Great Dragon was captured and sorcery outlawed. And then no one cheers or even SMILES about this.

Like, okay, the people of the past were not always chill or excited by public executions, because historical people all around the world and across time are not a monolith. There have always been people who hated them. But there have definitely been points in time where some people viewed public executions as good entertainment for the whole family and/or have reveled in the righteousness of bloodshed.

A lot of these people must have lived through the Purge: if they actually, you know, believed in and supported Uther's anti-magic philosophies, you'd think that you'd see a few cheers? Maybe some nodding? You'd kind of think that the people who would actually show up to public executions are those who share Uther's radical, violent beliefs, but no... the camera doesn't show a single smile or nod in the gathered crowd. This is Fantasy Medieval Land and no one is cheering the public execution. Okay.

You could say, "Well, maybe Uther is just a sour grape who doesn't like people talking when he's talking. Maybe Uther takes his campaign against magic dead seriously and this extends to him wanting a solemn, respectful atmosphere at all of his public executions of sorcerers." Sure. There are a LOT of guards in the crowd, possibly a leftover habit from the early days of the Purge, when there were more people who were presumably Not Okay with Uther's sudden change in policy.

But again, even if this obviously tyrannical King really doesn't like any cheering or smiling, no one is even nodding along to his speech. It doesn't look like any of these watching people wholeheartedly agree with his anti-magic beliefs. They're not happy about the death of a sorcerer. The division in ideology between Uther and the lower classes here appears to be a very, VERY stark line.

And then Uther declares a FESTIVAL! Uther is smiling! There's a happy tone in Uther's voice, like he wants the people to be happy about the absence of magic, and I can't see why he'd be against cheering here. He wants to celebrate!

But NO ONE cheers. No one smiles. Like, yes, this crowd seems to mostly contain the lower classes, who are probably not going to be feasting in the King's hall later, but a festival implies to me that there's going to be more of a city-wide celebration. That the King is going to provide some amount of free food and entertainment to his people, give out bread and hire some musicians or something, that there's going to be some sort of relief from work for a day, and maybe other charitable givings that boost a monarch's popularity.

But NO ONE cheers. And, again, okay, maybe Uther hosts a bad party. Very possible. Maybe Uther is really just going to hold one formal dinner for the upper classes and he's announcing that to the lower classes who are going to get nothing because he's that out of touch somehow? But, also, no, a festival means something different than a feast. And Uther is awful, but I would think he has a little more social cunning than that. I'm going to suppose that he earnestly wants to "generously reward" the common people for resisting the corruption of magic, and that he intends to give out some benefit.

But NO ONE smiles. This is a Fantasy Medieval Land where someone gets executed for doing the Evil Magic and then the King announces a Victory Festival, and no one cheers or looks even remotely happy through any of it. Everyone is about to shuffle off sadly before the executed man's mother starts screaming at Uther, saying that he is the true evil of Camelot and promising to kill his son. And no one boos her for it. They mostly just watch her, wait for Uther's inevitable bad reaction, and then just... shuffle away quietly after she vanishes in a whirlwind. Huh.

This one scene is implying a LOT about the social and cultural state of things in Camelot, and what the common people think of their King and his campaign. Other episodes will go on to elaborate and say other things about this world. But this is the opening scene that's stuck with me for a long time. We're obviously not meant to think well of Uther during this scene. Maybe we're meant to see that Uther is not at all a beloved king here. It looks like they're intentionally going for a frightening tone because this is all meant to be very scary for Merlin, who walked into this place like five minutes ago and could be next.

But I don't know if the show fully thought through what the actions of the background extras are suggesting here (they were presumably understandably focused on other things, this is the pilot and they're still working out kinks, this show is kind of silly anyway, etc.), and I think what it says is neat: Uther is a relatively recent king (his speech contains the words "when I first came to this land") and he is NOT popular. There's a difference between "not liked" and "NO ONE likes this guy even when they actually showed up to his event", and what they show here seems to be the latter.

Everything in a visual medium contributes to the story, whether the creators intended it or not, and none of the background extras filling out the scene cheer or smile when the camera points their way. Usually, hatred like Uther's will attract eager assholes happy to blame the Designated Other for all of their problems and society's problems, and obviously Uther does have a lot of guards and soldiers and willing followers in them, but still... not a SINGLE person (not even the soldiers doing crowd control) cheers or smiles at the public execution OR when the king declares a festival. Not one. It's unfortunately not unrealistic for people to cheer tyrants and join hate campaigns, but Uther's willingness to kill anyone on a shred of evidence has made him so unpopular that he can't get a single huzzah here.

That's something.

(Also, the near-complete absence of the Church in this world is VERY funny.)

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 16: Shibuya Incident: Gate Closed

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 1.8k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, mostly platonic, you're really just part of the story

Masterlist | Next

You've heard enough to know that Tsukumo Yuki dislikes the Jujutsu world. Meaning that it's already big news that she's shown up in the first place, but it also means she most probably had a plan. You don't blame her. Jujutsu society is messed up.

" The next stage of humanity lies in breaking away from cursed energy." 

" No. It lies in optimizing cursed energy." 

Yuki and whoever is hiding away in Geto's body appear to not agree on the matter.

She turns, shrugging at Yuuji, who raises a hand.

" Uh. I don't understand either of those." 

" I thought you gave up on that plan 12 years ago after Zen'In Toji died." 

" That's what I told Geto, yes." 

You blink, your eyes turning to your best friend in question. She believed people with promising talent like him and Toji were the solution for a curse free world? Interesting.

For now, you'll have to stay focused in finding the technique that will defrost the stranger's technique. 

Once again, you're lucky. Just like before with octopus man, you can for some reason use the stranger's technique to your advantage.

Admittedly, you've messed around with snow before, but you've never used it to defrost anything, to undo or create ice. But then again, there's a first time for everything, right? 

Both Geto and Yuki explain their ideals. Yuki doesn't see the use of optimizing cursed energy, considering Japan would be a monopoly in that. Other countries wouldn't just stand by and watch. It would create a war. Whoever is hiding in Geto doesn't seem to care. He just wants cursed energy to take over in it's best form. Doesn't matter if it's through people or cursed objects. According to him, his ideal is a spec in the darkness. According to him, he should've let 'chaos consume around him beyond his control'. He had been limited, but now he had extracted the technique to do so.

At once, Yuki turns to Yuuji.

" There was a curse named Mahito, right?! The one whose technique could manipulate souls!" 

" That guy just absorbed him." 

Yuuji sounds awfully nonchalant while Yuki is obviously distressed. Her eyes widen at his words.

" Seriously?!" 

Geto leans down, pressing his palm to the ground. At once, a symbol shows on the ground, also appearing in the sky. It looks eerie.

" Tengen's barrier? No, this is..." 

" You have my thanks Yuuji. Curses cease to improve once they've been absorbed by curse manipulation. Your fight with Mahito is what really matured him." 

" What did you do?" 

Yuki is rightfully not in the mood for Geto's round of approval.

" I remotely activated Idle Transfiguration on two types on non-sorcerers that I had marked ahead of time."

As Geto continues to explain, you finally get the gist of unfreezing the icy technique, summoning the cursed energy in the form of water all around you. As well as that, their cursed energy weakens. Probably because of the wound they healed when Choso's Piercing Blood cut through their palm like that.

The stranger's eyes widen as you manage to free yourself, freeing Sukuna soon after and the rest as well.

" What's the matter Uraume?" 

Geto looks over at Uraume, who is looking utterly scandalized as they watch you.

" L/N Y/N. " 

You raise a brow. L/N? Now who is that?

" Sorry, I'm not game for talking right now." 

With that, you sweep Uraume off their feet with a strong gust of water, using their own cursed energy against them. Sukuna laughs, the sound loud, causing several of your allies to turn to you in question.

" Hah! Finally." 

You raise a brow at your best friend, he sends you a side eye back.

" What? You took long. I knew you could do it." 

However, the fun ends after that. Due to Uraume's weakened form, their cursed energy disappears into thin air. 

Unbothered, Geto continues speaking, explaining how he's been working on this for over thousands of years. He calls today 'the world of the future'. You don't need to wonder on it for long.

Within a moment, he has reached through Geto's curses, and summoned a lot of them at once.

You gather the rain which had fallen around you, crating the water circle in a steady flow around you.

Sukuna takes a step back, shifting closer to you.

His body language a clear message. 'Stay close to me.' 

Admittedly, you weren't planning to leave.

Everyone is surrounded by curses at once. You glance around you in concern, noticing just in time to see Geto holding out the prison realm mockingly to Yuuji, adding that he's expecting great things from the boy.

Unbeknownst to you just yet, a notice from Jujutsu Headquarters is released.

1. Geto Suguru is confirmed to be alive, and has been sentenced to death once again.

2. The suspension of Itadori Yuuji 's death sentence is revoked and the execution is to be carried out immediately.

3. Yaga Masamichi shall receive the death penalty for inciting Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru and causing the Shibuya incident.

4. Gojo Satoru has been deemed an accomplice in the Shibuya incident and is thus permanently exiled from the Jujutsu world. Furthermore, removing his seal will be considered a criminal act.

5. Special Grade sorcerer Okkotsu Yuta is appointed Itadori Yuuji's executioner.

[ This is where the series ends. Continuing from this point means manga spoilers!]                              Manga spoilers for this chapter: chapter(s) 138

Some time passed. Not much. Maybe five minutes. The cursed spirits were a distraction.

" I'm sorry for not acting sooner. I wasn't sure on what to do...."

Geto escaped. His cursed spirits are all over Tokyo. Satoru Gojo is gone. Nanami and Nobara are dead. 

If anything, you all lost. And horribly so.

On top of that, you have no idea where Megumi is currently.

You shouldn't have left him in that street in Shibuya. You hope Toge found him.

You suppose it's not Yuki's fault. If anything, you blame the higher ups.

" ...The situation had reached a point where I thought I should just keep an eye on things. At least temporarily... Have you realized I'm not necessarily on your side? I'm just a humble beauty who wants to eradicate cursed spirits from the world. By way of apology, my comrades and I will take responsibility for delivering those kids who were there. It's about time I confront Tengen. 

What will you do?"

You don't know. Originally, you just wanted to go home. On top of that, you haven't felt as homesick as you do right now. 

However, you can't. You know so. You have to help. They've taken you in after all, cared for you like you had always been one of their students. You owe it to Gojo sensei at least. You have to help get him his freedom. Going home comes later.

Sukuna glances at you. He knows you better than most people. He understands what's going through your head, how you work. He still has to catch up to what's been going on here. On who Ryomen Sukuna is. On Yuuji's story. On your own. However, he can't find it in himself to care. He figures he'll figure it out. You could be one of the curse users in this universe, and he'd still follow you. All the people he cares about are in your universe anyway.

Silently, his hand reaches out to hold your own. You glance up, but his expression is the same as always. No emotion shown on his face. You know he's reassuring you though. He'll stick by you, no matter what.

You give him a small smile, before looking at Yuuji.

" Yuuji, we'll follow you. " 

Sukuna lets go of your hands, crossing his arms over one another as he looks at the boy he recognizes as his twin brother.

" No."

You blink in surprise. Sukuna raises a brow.

" The fuck you mean no?"

Yuuji shakes his head, eyes flitting over the visible injuries on you.

" I've already nearly killed Y/N. I don't want that to happen again. You two should continue to figure out how to go home. If you help, your chances of dying only increases."

" Yuuji, no, that literally wasn't you. Ryomen Sukuna tried to kill me. Not you.-"

" Don't be so angsty. It's stupid, and pathetic. We're not weak. And we're here anyway so we might as well help. Besides, I trust our classmates to manage bringing us home."

Yuuji sighs.

He should've expected this. You never seemed to listen anyway, and why would your best friend be any different?

" Y/N-"

" No. None of that."

You're glaring at him.

Yuuji sighs.

 Of course, you and Sukuna end up joining him.

-

Parallel Jujutsu Kaisen Universe

Gojo Satoru's eyes widen beneath his blindfold, taking the weapon his student is holding.

" He lost it?"

" Don't think so. Rather the portal seemed to reject it. It was weird, considering it was clicked onto the Chain when he fell in. "

Fushiguro Megumi is a bit bloodied up, but still standing and ready to go yet again. Gojo is proud of his students. They've all grown quickly, jumping opportunities and often being able to take on things much bigger than them. It was rare for them to ask for help, especially for Megumi and Sukuna.His beloved angsty teenager students who would much rather get sucked into a portal towards some other place than ask their beloved sensei for help.

Gojo can't help but smile, causing Megumi to grimace.

" What're you smiling about?"

" Can't believe my dear students have finally decided to come ask for my help." 

Megumi sighs.

" Don't ever tell Sukuna I did...."

Megumi trails off, eyes on the table between them.

" I just want my friends back. Even if they're annoying."

Gojo smiles.

" Wouldn't dream of it. Go visit Shoko, leave it to your sensei."

Megumi shakes his head, wiping the blood of his forehead.

" I'm fine. Let's get Nobara and Yuuji." 

He prefers your touch to Shoko's anyway. Not that he'll ever tell you though.

[ A/N: We're in the manga : D. Never expected people to like this tbh. Glad you do tho. 

ALSO I have finally decided. It's a (your) Sukuna X you, Megumi X you (maybe I'll make a bonus epilogue with (your) megumi X you. No promises on that though.)

Lastly, the sweet romance stuff is mostly reserved for the epilogues bc we're mostly following the canon story line.]

The Anomaly Taglist

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi @hanatsuki-hime @betizda @sh0uk1 @nymphsdomain @suppeepsandweebs @sweetchimpeaches

[rey-jake-therapist]

This isn't my opinion but damn these weird lorebros sure love to rationalize anything remotely haladriel just to try to invalidate it lmao. The only part I agree with is the first sentence: 'I think we have different ideas of 'canon'. Canon is something that is canonically, visually or verbally, conveyed to the audience. Like, the idea that Halbrand made Galadriel's armour? It's fanon. Especially since there was an actual queen who had command over the smith's guild, had been having these discussions with Galadriel about going to war and is an elf-friend. Even more so, we know that to an extent (despite his manipulation) Sauron was expressing real emotions at the time. He was still struggling with his desire of wanting to be left alone and not be pushed to reclaim his crown, to which he knew he was susceptible. He even felt used. To say that he made Galadriel's armour is to suggest that his emotions were pretent and by extent that he was using her even earlier than the writers have suggested.' It's funny when these lorebros like to flip between 'sauron didnt want to get tempted by power but she kept pushing him and 'sauron was using her all along to get back his power like, OK lil bro? Which one is it? Cause you going back and forth. I guess whichever version of the narrative fits the best frame to invalidate a ship that you personally dislike? XD

Not only the lore-bros do that tbh. There are all sorts of people that will discredit a ship, especially a romance like this one, because it doesn't match with their binary vision of the world. These people are often very young, or just have a very narrow vision of the world where people are either very very bad, or very very good, and very very good people don't fall in love with very very evil people. Also they're still stuck on Peter Jackson's version of Sauron, a stupid super evil floating eye with no heart, and cannot fathom that the Sauron we see in TROP isn't quite there yet. They want so bad Sauron to be a cardboard cut character that I'm thankful they'll never approach the writing team.

I think "we have different ideas of canon" can mean that canon, in certain circumstances, can be interpreted differently because it's mostly subtext. Some will find the relationship Halbrand/Galadriel romantic, some will say the contrary. Some will find the Elrond/Galadriel kiss platonic, while others like me will disagree, etc. There's no definitive "truth" as long as it hasn't been confirmed in the text. If at some point Galadriel says she was in love with Halbrand and acknowledges it means she also loves Sauron, then it will no longer be free of interpretation. If Elrond never shows any romantic inclination towards Galadriel, it will mean the kiss was purely platonic and strategic, etc.

To take your example of the armor : you see Sauron forging Galadriel's armor as the proof that he pretended to be mad at her, but I strongly disagree personally. Ultimately, he decided to follow Galadriel in the Southlands, but we didn't see them reconciliate. When they met on the ship, they looked.... very close again, as if they had finally resolved all their issues on the forge table. Seriously, they looked like they were going on a wedding trip and not to war (though tbh a good war against Orcs would probably be the perfect honey moon for them 🤣), but when did they get engaged?

So some reconciliation necessarily happened between their last discussion and their departure for the Southlands.

Forging an armor for her could have been Sauron's reconciliation gift, his way to say he forgave her, and also to ask for her forgiveness; he was about to screw her up, after all. This trip to the Southlands was basically his Deception tour and I think he felt shitty, like he did when Celebrimbor told him he felt better mentally then ever, while he was actually at his lowest because of Sauron's mind tricks.

He's not a sadist, he doesn't enjoy lying, manipulating and torturing people he likes (and he liked Galadriel very much...), but he believes it's necessary and justified by his ultimate goal, which is to "heal Middle Earth". Because people won't just do what he wants if he doesn't trick them into doing it. All that to say that forging an armor for Galadriel could have had several meanings for him : reconciliation (it would parallel the scene when he gives her Finrod's dagger), and guilt.

Of course any smith in Numenor could have forged it, but then why keeping it a mystery? They could have just said it, when they evoked the armor at the Con. Imho they wanted at the very least the audience to speculate it was a gift from Saurbrand.

Regarding Sauron's sincerity, it's always "he was totally sincere, didn't want to leave Numenor and it's Galadriel who deluded herself" or "he manipulated her from the beginning like a puppet and lied about everything". There rarely seems to be a middle ground, while it's exactly where the truth is ! Sauron was conflicted for most of the Numenor arc. He wanted Galadriel to have this army for him, but also he wanted to stay in Numenor. He wanted to fix the damages he did when he was with Morgoth, but he also wanted peace. He wanted Galadriel to get away from him because he knew he'd eventually hurt her and be cast out by her when she'd learn the truth, but he also wanted to be near her. He was upset that she used him to get her army, but he also knew she was right when she said it could be argued that HE used her, because indeed, he did... Etc. Sauron really knew what he wanted only when he came back to take the pouch with the armory. I thought it was pretty clear that he made up his mind only at that precise moment, and yet now I keep seeing "he did it for the audience" bs, as if it was possible.

There was no one to watch him in this scene, meaning he was truly hesitating to keep playing along or not. It's not a case where he's an omniscient narrator who knows there's an audience watching and lies to them to make a "gotcha !" revelation at the end. What we see of him in these few moments of privacy is the real him.

Even Charlie mentioned that in a pre season 2 interview : that in season 1 we didn't get to see much of his true feelings because the story wasn't told from his POV, but that season 2 would be fun in this regard because we'd get to see his true self much more. If we're supposed to believe as some claim, that "Sauron deceived everybody in plain sight even the audience!", then there can't be no "real him" to watch. Meaning Charlie doesn't know what he's talking about. Sorry, but I choose to believe the actor who played Sauron for two seasons over the Reddit bro or the Tumblr girlie who believe they figured him out, because they're so smart.

Imho claiming that he was either "all innocent" or "pure evil", is in both cases denying the complexity of the character. Just like, no offense anon, it is denying it to claim that he can't have forged the armor for Galadriel because it would prove he was not really upset at her and was faking it all. The world of Sauron is not black and white yet, at least in season 1 it wasn't.

[meraki-yao]

TN Candies Part 2

HI! I’m back with more candies to share :D

Part 1

Again, preface for precaution, but it’s the exact same stuff as last time, so if you know it and you’re okay with it, feel free to cut the chase and go straight to the main event under the cut.  

1, This post contains content regarding real-person shipping. If you’re uncomfortable with the subject, again, please don’t read under the post

2, I don’t have all the candies because I really just view them in passing, so I’m just gonna write/translate the ones I’ve seen, remember and find at least a logical speculation

3, I need to reiterate this in case my position in this gets misunderstood: Me writing about “candies” isn’t because these are MY opinion or things *I* found or *I* believe in them being evidence. I am just a translator and messenger.

4, Chinese people have a very difference understanding of platonic/romantic affection/relationships compared to the Western world, and that they look at the candies with rose-tinted glass. Chinese/Asian people are generally a lot less affectionate with their personal relationships, for example friends wouldn’t say “love you” to each other if they’re just friends, nor would they expand their friend group to the others easily or other stuff. And these people who look for candy go into their “investigation” already with the belief that “they are together”, everything remotely resembling a close relationship will automatically be interpreted as romantic. I thought about it a lot, and honestly among the “candies” I’ve seen, most of them are a matter of interpretation: yes those are things couples will do, but it wouldn’t be weird if friends did it too. So they’re not that seriously or up for further speculation. There is I think only one “candy” that I can’t quite say the same, which I will explain and elaborate on in this post. 

5, Please remember that the people who do this do it in good nature: something I didn’t make clear in my post yesterday, which is on me, is that the fans do want them to be together, but they’re not like… yandere level or something. If they’re just friends the fans won’t be upset or betrayed or anything, they just prefer to see them as romantic. They don’t mean any harm, and they don’t cause any harm because China is physically and digitally too far away for them to actually fuck shit up, and they understand the lines of parasocial relationships: those who met with Taylor during his China trip in December know to, and didn’t bring up this in front of him. They know where to draw the line, and whoever doesn’t and starts becoming a problem gets kicked out of the community. This is meant for fun.

Ok with that being say, main event under the cut:

Lexi Galitzine

Preface for this one, and I cannot emphasise this enough: I did not fact check this one, I don’t follow Lexi on any social media. These are discoveries of the original posters. Please do not disturb Lexi and respect her privacy, especially since she is not a public figure. This is observation and speculation all done in casual, good fun, please respect her and leave her alone.

Starting from 20th December, Lexi Galitzine, Nick’s older and only sister, starting following Taylor on Instagram, which is quite odd since it was past rwrb’s promo period. Even during the promo period, Lexi only liked the rwrb official account’s post on twitter. And it’s her personal account, not her work account, so this is a personal thing.

She then proceeded to like Taylor’s post from the 20th, 23rd , and 29th. All of which are pictures from his China trip, and therefore has nothing to do with Nick.

Lexi is a graphic designer, so she mostly follows artist and designers. For Nick’s co-workers, Lexi only follows two female co-star who are very close to Nick. Taylor’s the first male friend of Nick’s that Lexi followers.

Your Man

As we all know, on Taylor’s birthday, Aneesh posted her (so far) last rwrb photo dump, and among those ones was Taylor and Nick singing together (which was adorable)

They sang “Your Man” together, which is quite a romantic and sweet song if you look at the lyrics

Taylor then commented under the post, and I quote “You recorded Ahahaahhaa”, implying he didn’t know that this was recorded at the time of the video. But… from the video, Aneesh isn’t that far away from the boys, and Taylor’s facing Aneesh, unlike Nick, who was facing Taylor.

(This is fully up to interpretation) There’s such a… vibe between them in that video.  

(To me this is a stretch but) Taylor’s at Nick’s trailer. And if we recall the “OHHH THERE’S THE MOVIE STAR” little video where Nick got all adorably flustered since Taylor filmed Nick getting out of the lift, it means that Taylor was waiting for Nick, and Nick wasn’t surprised to see Taylor, so this has been going on for a while. If there is more than one lift, then Taylor also somehow knows which one Nick’s coming out from. They know each other’s route/place and meet up a lot.

Aneesh posted a video of both of them singing on Taylor’s birthday, and when wishing Taylor happy birthday, she posted that video on her story. It’s Taylor’s birthday, it would have made more sense to post either photos of just Taylor, or Taylor with her, which is what she did for his last birthday.

Nick’s Tiktok

Mentioned this yesterday but I’ll translate it here too: Nick originally followed 83 accounts on Tik Tok. On 11th January 2024, Nick cleared out his following, and only 7 remained: Camila Cabello (Cinderella 2021, Cinderella), Ayo Oedebiri (Bottoms, Josie), Rachel Sennott (Bottoms, PJ), Sio Torley (M&G, Crew), Inez Ella Clark (M&G, Makeup), Cameron Valetina (Model), and Taylor. Taylor is somehow, the only guy remaining.

Among these seven people, Nick mostly likely only introduced Taylor and Camila to Lexi, because Lexi only follows those two on social media

Later Nick followed a 4 generally accounts, but then three days he unfollowed two of those. So he has 9 followings now: 2 content accounts, 6 girl, and Taylor.

Please note that I did not fact check this, and I literally cannot fact check it because Tik Tok is completely unavailable here. Everything I translated is from OP and the screenshots she provided.

I think I’ll leave it there for part 2! Again there is still more, so lemme know if you want a part 3!

Again, this is all in good fun. But after the shit storm yesterday, I kind of wanted to use this to remind people in the rwrb who love them both and are understandably bothered and upset by the haters that the boys are proven to have a good relationship, and this is evidence. Whether these acts are platonic or romantic is none of our business and up to interpretation, but these show that they have a good relationship regardless. Don't let the assholes get to you, and have fun with these :D

Tagging a couple of folks:

@lfg1986-2 @tal-vez-o-quizas @na-18dia @mylucayathoughts @androgynoustriumphclown @hopefulblizzardsublime

[enam3l]

rockstar!dad eddie is definitely not immune to the claims that dads baby the pets that they didn’t want in the first place .. the girls begged & begged the two of you for a dog and eddie was probably vehemently against it because all of you travel too much or he knew the two of you were gonna be stuck caring for it till the girls actually just showed up one day with one & now that’s his best friend for life

yes. just yes. so fun fact, i used to be a foster mum for dogs so i am definitely breed bias. idk if you know the actor joe manganiello but he's married to sofia vergara (gloria from modern family) and he is this huuuge man but has this tiny chihuahua he dresses up and insists on taking everywhere. i love that for him and eddie.

anyway i dedicate this one to my favourite foster child marnie who i got have for six months! it was her birthday the other day and she is finally living her best life 🫶

ps: if you want your parents to get you a dog, try what the daughters do. this is exactly how i got my dogs when i was younger lol.

there's something about marnie (rockstar eddie munson x reader) ficlet / fluff / smut

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

'Dad, I want a dog.' Eddie is certain that is the only thing his daughters have said to him in the last two years. All of them are teenagers, all of them are hormonal, all of them are getting on his nerves, all of them refuse to speak to him... unless it's to ask that one question. Sloane was now eighteen and in a constant panicked frenzy over finals. Iris was sixteen and was convinced she was an adult. Maeve was fourteen and at the peak of puberty and peak of being a pain in the ass. 

Personally, Eddie had felt his reasoning on refusing their pleas for a dog had been very fair. Although he was not used to being bad cop and he didn't like it. You were always the firm parent and he was a soft touch who was wrapped round the fingers of his girls - you included. On multiple occasions he had given his daughters his reasons. 

Now the girls were all teenagers, Eddie was finally beginning to start touring with Corroded Coffin again. Something he chose to stop doing once the kids had been born. 

Even though you mostly worked from home, sometimes you did have to go away for work. He didn't want you to be left with the responsibility of the dog all the time whilst the girls were at school. 

Within the next five years, all of the kids would be out the house and at college, leaving the dog behind with you and Eddie. He had planned on using a child free house to his advantage and taking you away all the time. 

Yet clearly, his reasons continued to go in one ear and out the other as tonight he was victim to a well coordinated attack. All three of the girls cornered him as Eddie sat watching a film. His protests ignored as Maeve snatched the remote and turned the TV over. Iris plugged in a laptop causing a PowerPoint presentation to appear on screen. Sloane stood next to the screen like a weather lady as she began her perfectly rehearsed argument. Those damn girls are trying to convert me, he thought. 

Often at his own expense, Eddie realised all three of his children inherited the best of both you and him. Taking his street smarts and tactical logic and your academic skills and charm - it was a ruthless combination that he's certain if wielded incorrectly could be used for world domination. Once they'd finished, Eddie sat there gobsmacked as they filed out the room to go about their Saturday evenings. Sloane leaving him a printed copy of the presentation for him to as she described it, 'peruse at his own leisure.' Eddie scoffed at her sass, knowing Wayne would've whacked him round the head with a newspaper had he used a line like that when he was a teenager and probably now. 

That night, Eddie lay on his bed flicking through the papers. It's not that he thought they were incapable of looking after a dog. They'd babysat Steve and Marissa's dogs plenty of times and were great. It was just that life would be changing constantly over the next few years and that made Eddie nervous. His fretting was interrupted by you bursting through the door and jumping on top of him. You ripped the papers from his hands, chucking them across the bedroom, before pinning his wrists above his head. 

'Hey, what's this all about sweetheart?' he questioned, still slightly startled. But his question was quickly answered by your lips attacking his neck and bare chest. 

'Empty house,' you grinned between nips and kisses, 'want you Eds.' 

And who was Eddie Munson to refuse his wife? 

All the questions that had been plaguing his tired brain all evening were long forgotten. The only thing on his mind was you. What else could he think about when the love of his life was between his legs, plump lips tight around his throbbing cock. You'd been together for twenty-five years now and still Eddie felt like a horny teenager around you. He was putty in your soft hands - literally in this case. Your hands cupped and played with his balls as his thick cock hit the back of your throat as he chased release. The way the bedside light caused your wide eyes that stared right into his soul to twinkle, made his pulse quicken. The light also caught the ring he'd slid onto your ring finger twenty years ago. Eddie couldn't believe this was really his life now. 

'U-uh fuck, sweetheart...' he groaned, 'Bout to cum baby.' 

You could feel his balls start to tighten in and cock begin to twitch - he was seconds away from cumming. So you pulled your mouth away and retracted your touch. 

'AGH! What the fuck,' he whelped. 

You looked your husband right in the eyes. Eddie's big chocolate eyes, wider than ever in shock at the loss of touch. Letting him know you meant business, your face fell deadpan and nails dug into his hairy thighs. 

'You're getting them a dog, Edward.'

He spluttered in disbelief, hands waving around aimlessly. 'WHAT! I cannot - you really doing this to me right now?'

'Yes,' you smirked, 'and you'll never cum again if you don't do it.' 

Eddie knew you weren't lying so that's why he finds himself two weeks later stood in the dog rescue shelter. He couldn't deny it made him happy seeing the joy on his girls faces when he told them the news. His only condition which you'd also agreed upon was that the dog needed to be a rescue. The charity had thoroughly vetted you all and checked the house. Eddie couldn't believe he was just allowed to pop out as many kids as he wanted without approval and yet he had to go through so much to be allowed a dog. 

Shuffling along behind the rest of you, he peered into each occupied space, reading the little biographies of each dog. Eddie had always seen himself as more of a cat person. Cats were weird and a little spooky, something he could relate to. Plus, he had happy memories feeding the strays at the trailer park growing up. Today, he'd expected to simply be the chauffeur and bank, letting the girls choose their new friend.

Then his feet ground to a halt as he caught sight of a little presence in a cage he'd thought was empty. There in the corner was a tiny pile of dark fuzz, brown eyes blinking back at him expectantly. The little creature looked as if someone had drew a scribble and stuck a pair of googly eyes on it. Eddie approached the cage and the dog followed his move, coming closer towards him. It was a little dog of a thing, little legs sticking out of scraggily fur in varying shades of black and grey. The dog could've been mistaken for the animalistic form of a wise oracle from a game of D&D. 

'This one,' Eddie called out, surprising you and your daughters. You all double backed, not having noticed how far behind Eddie even was. Your gaze followed to what his finger pointed at. Instantly your heart melted. 

'It's this one. We're getting this one,' he insisted again. Iris squinted at the paper attached to the cage as she read it aloud to you all. 

'My name is Marnie. I look older but I'm only two. Please take a chance on me, I'm a quirky girl but full of love.'  

You let out a little sniff, your hand finding Eddie's to squeeze it. Immediately you could recognise exactly why he'd find her, she was a tiny dog version of your husband. It was meant to be. 

'Okay, Dad's word is final. Marnie is the one!' You exclaimed. Eddie's face lit up with glee, heart full that without him explaining it, you just knew why she was special. 

'Thank you sweetheart,' he mouthed silently.  

'Are you sure Dad? Did you not want something a bit bigger?' Sloane questioned. 

'She kind of looks like an ancient wizard...' Maeve remarked, bending down with her hand out, her fingers immediately being licked thoroughly through the metal bars. 

'I'm sure. She's perfect,' Eddie grinned. 

Marnie Munson was inseparable from Eddie. All of his previous concerns went straight out the window the moment he saw her. She fit perfectly into your lives. Completely unbothered by travelling or loud music, Marnie became an honorary roadie for Corroded Coffin. Eddie had her perfectly accessorised, frequently returning home from the shops with a new purchase for her. Matching him perfectly, she wore a studded pink collar and a pink and black bandana. And you're still clueless as to where he found it but in the winter Marnie was kept warm by a knitted Metallica Christmas jumper. Utterly spoilt rotten like all the women in Eddie's life. Clearly, Eddie's title of girl dad was not limited to human daughters. 

ps: i don't know if these books were only in the uk and new zealand but anyway this is how i picture marnie

my taglist angels: @whoahoney @lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology @mseddiemunson @kreepja

[wack-ashimself]

For the hype, 'The Creator' was actually quite fucking basic.

Sure, it had a few good twists and turns but....I have a rule.

If your movie wasn't super expensive and pretty, would I still watch it?

And the answer for this one is a pretty sturdy 'no.'

Because this movie is ONLY worth the watch for how stunningly beautiful it is AND how visually entertaining the fights are.

Plot wise, story wise....weak as fuck. ESPECIALLY the lead.

SPOILERS.

AI robots nuke LA. USA goes genocide on all AI (mostly in Asia for some reason). Lead is USA solider who hates AI, sees them as things, treats them as such the WHOLE ENTIRE MOVIE, then, changes his mind at the last minute because of his dead ex, who was super Pro AI (tho he spent tons of time with her where, logically, if he was gonna change his mind, it would've been when she was ALIVE.)

His motivations made NO fucking sense. He was allowing the kid AI (ultimate weapon that can control everything) to stay alive to find his ex, then, he does, and goes 'well, after killing countless innocent humans AND robots, I guess I was wrong.' There were WAY too many moments before this he SHOULD have changed his mind. When he did was convenient for the script, not logical for his character.

So lame story. BUT here's more plot holes cuz I was REALLY looking forward to this movie, and it pissed me off.

-The nuke in LA? Tho they GLOSS OVER IT, they basically say there was no way it was AI, it was a human computing error. But they don't say if it was USA people, foreign governments, etc. So the REASON THE MOVIE HAPPENS was a lie, then they never clarify the lie AT ALL. LAZY.

-How his wife survived a DIRECT BOMBING and was rescued: never covered.

-His wife KNEW he 'used' to work for the enemies. And, it turns out, she's the fucking leader of the AIs. SO....WHY WOULD SHE NOT KEEP EYES ON HER HUSBAND THAT JUST TURNED SIDES?!

-How his wife created the super AI, before she went into a coma, it was hidden for 5 years, and only THEN the bad guys figured out it existed. The Ai was underground, in a vault. WHO THE FUCK TOLD THEM? It wasn't the god damn lead! I mean, if his wife DID trust him (at least at the moment) why did she not tell her husband of the AI based on their unborn child? Either she DID trust him or not. Cuz it seemed like she was 1/2 way both ways. Contradiction.

-The first sky bomb knocked the lead out, made him forget some things. The 2nd sky bomb....he just ended up in a boat. Cuz why the fuck not?

-Where is literally any of Asia's federal government's military? They say it is new Asia, small vulnerable towns (and they all look poor) so...HOW THE FUCK ARE THEY REGULARLY AFFORDING TO BUILD COMPLEX AI ROBOTS!? THEY DON'T HAVE THE RESOURCES OR MANPOWER!

-Where is literally the rest of the world? No joke, most of the movie is the USA using a sky bomber to bomb all of Asia. Without proof or reasoning. The rest of the world is okay with this? Also Asia is the ONLY country working with AI?

-Again, anti AI usa. THEY USE AI. Primitive stuff, but still use it. And you're telling me a SPACE BOMBER doesn't have SOME level of AI? Fuck off.

-This is just me, personally, but if someone was hit with a remote sticky grenade and got on my helicopter, no they didn't; I'd kick them the fuck off. Mofos-this is war. And I ain't going to kill 5 people in hopes I save 1. That's just stupid. Looks good in movies; stupid on fucking paper.

-The bad guys had no reason to bring in the lead alive (and prove that by letting him roam free) outside of 'for the movie to happen.' Nor to let him kill the super AI except, AGAIN, 'for the movie to happen.' TERRIBLE fucking logic.

-If AI have a sleep mode, known to all, why would they not either uninstall it or block it? Sorry but if I was an AI, I'd spend all my time finding out ways to upgrade my body.

-Once on the space station, why in the world would the bad guys only send PART of their solders? If this is a 'they could destroy the base' kind of moment, SEND EVERYONE. Within the base and outside.

-How did the AI child know to upload her mom's consciousness into another AI body? THEY HAD NEVER SEEN OR HEARD OF IT DONE! ('The lead told the AI.' Only that her mom was on the stick. She still should not have known what to do with it.)

-How did some of the escape pods land after the ship? How did the ship crash, and escape pods that launched BEFORE it crashed, land after? It looked good; made no fucking sense.

-Space base of not, the bad guys still have tanks the size of 20 city blocks. ....this better not open for a sequel.

-I'm sorry, but at the end of the day, with how many humans and AI he killed, the lead isn't even an anti hero. He's a bad guy that did the right thing in the end. BIG difference.

-GPS. Sorry but super AI, space bombers, space shuttles flying like planes...BUT YOU DO NOT HAVE GPS ON EVERYTHING?! People to tanks to anything else. SO many future tech movies do this: we can go into your BRAIN....but fuck if we cant find you within a city of 1000s of cameras. DUMB.

Worth seeing, not worth thinking about. It will make you dumber. I will never understand how me, a regular guy, can find plot holes in multi million dollar movies which the script had to go thru MANY levels of approval. But this is what happens to 'art' when you want it to be profitable, not make a point.

'The Creator'. 6.4/10.

ps-best part? Ugh. Do I have one? It was a pretty movie. Hm..I liked the lead AI kid. Good actor. Actually, all of the acting was spot on. It was...what they had to work with script wise...ok. I do have 2 fav parts. Both DUMB AS FUCK, but I loved them. Not once, but TWICE in this movie animals unintentionally killed the bad guys. It...was unexpected, but fun. DUMB, but fun.

Side note: for how much this movie pushed the idea that AI and human were equal, make a note every time an AI is killed. A good...1/4 of the time, they play it off as comical. Not the human deaths, but the AI ones....

[lucius-the-sinful]

Sorry it's a lot, I'm nosey. For both your oc's on offer!

Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1)

Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing. (2)

Has your Character been using their illithid powers? (3)

Do you remember in which order you recruited your companions? Which companion introduction would have felt the most familiar / like home to your Tav / Character? (4)

Do you remember the first humanoid enemy your Character killed? Was it the first person they've ever killed, in your opinion? Would they have been bothered by it? (5)

Was your illithid tadpole empowered by anything in Act 1? If so, how does your Character feel about that? (24)

Did your Character find the Necromancy of Thay? How are they handling it / planning to handle it? (37)

Did your Character meet Barcus Wroot? How's he doing? (38)

What does your Character think of Raphael? (39)

You ask, you shall receive (this is going to be a really long I have a lot to say and I am sick today so I have all the time in the world until I pass out again). Galethor answers will be first, then Zafir! (ask game)

1. Tell us about your Tav!

Galethor (he/him) (goes by Gale... I made this character before I knew about the sad wizard adjkls) is an asmodeous teifling warlock, and his patron is the Ancient Old One. Galethor grew up in the hells as a prisoner to his devil father, and only escaped about a year ago when he made his pact. Gale was living in Baldur's Gate, trying to adjust to Not Being In Hell when he was captured. I wanted to make Gale in BG3 because he will be my next D&D character (albeit with a slightly different story and much different class) and I wanted to get an idea of how to roleplay him when that campaign starts.

Zafir (he/him) is a half high elf fighter with the eldritch knight subclass. Zafir is not originally from Baldur's Gate, and grew up with his twin sister, Gwentri, in a small remote village along the Chiontar. Zafir is always an easy character for me, I sure do love putting him in situations.

2. Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your character?

Gale's body scars, the brand on his shoulder, and his limbs and tail being a darker color to name a few. One major difference between him in BG3 and him in the next D&D campaign is his vampirism. Here is his full reference for D&D (cw for self harm):

Zafir, on the other hand, is almost perfect. The main things missing are his full body tattoos and very long hair. But I am mostly delighted in how he looks in game. I would also just slightly change his body to be less muscle and more fat (I mean... have you seen people who actually train with greatswords? they do not have a six pack I will tell you that much), and adjust his nose to better fit the shape I usually draw him with. Here is his reference I use for... well everything he is in:

3. Has your character been using their illithid powers?

Galethor has a hard time not using any power that is a) free and b) has little consequence. The only ability he does not end up using is the illithid widom because he... he uh, has a negative wisdom. He took two other abilities, and then shared with Astarion. Have I mentioned before that they are a match made in hell and they really should not just be able to run amuck?

Zafir fully refused to give in to the tadpole except for a few illithid wisdom checks to get to where he needs. Which, granted, would have been very difficult without them due to having a negative charisma.

4. Do you remember in which order you recruited your companions?

For Galethor it went Shadowheart > Astarion > Lae'zel > Gale > Wyll > Karlach. Karlach's was the most familiar to Galethor, given he had also just very recently escaped the hells. He is also very willing to unquestioningly kill Zariel's assets for that reason alone. (Karlach and Galethor become very good friends and you can rip them from my cold dead hands)

For Zafir it went Shadowheart > Astarion > Gale > Lae'zel > Wyll > Karlach. Wyll felt the most familiar, but even that is a little bit of a reach as Zafir doesn't really buy into valient hero bullshit. He does appreciate someone who is kind towards children, however.

5. Do you remember the first humanoid your character killed?

I'm pretty sure it was the gur, Gandrel, for Galethor, although it definitely wasn't his first and he did not think about it whatsoever. All he cared about was protecting Astarion and himself. Also, an early moment where Galethor questions how he actually feels about Astarion, but just brushes it off.

Zafir takes no pleasure in killing people and only takes lives when it is necessary. Minthara was like cutting the head off a snake, and it was one of the first people he has ever killed, but it wouldn't be the last. He dwells a bit on Minthara, wondering if there was ever a way to persuade her that following the Absolute would only lead to ruin, but it isn't a thought he entertains for long.

24. Was the illithid tadpole empowered by anything in Act 1?

As mentioned, Galethor did take two more abilities, the concentrated blast and psionic backlash to be more specific. He has zero regrets about that with occasional thoughts of what he actually lost.

Zafir didn't indulge and has no regrets about that either. He believes nothing good can come from the tadpole (and he is right, fight me.)

37. Did your character find the Necromancy of Thay?

Galethor immediately handed it to Astarion, and just wants to see what he does with it. The quencies? Yeah what about then.

Zafir gave it to Gale (and not to eat). I have since seen the results of this and all I will say is... well its not bad. I think.

38. Did your character meet Barcus Wroot?

Galethor hesitantly helped him down, then immediately demanded payment. But yeah, he's alive.

I believe Zafir also helped him, I don't remember how but if I had to guess those goblins died. He is not merciful when it comes to chaos for chaos sake.

39. What does your character think of Raphael?

If Galethor was not restricted to predetermined dialogue lines he would have some words to say. He at least stole some food from the House of Hope and told Raphael to suck on a toe or something.

Zafir knows devils are trouble and can be tricky but he is not above dealing with them. They are often lawful beings and are just as bound to the contract, as long as he does his part, they will do theirs. If their price is reasonable, he will pay it.

[sweetrebelpersona]

Friday 16th February 2024

Get this: you're a uni/college student who is going through these hard times, especially when you're having trouble dealing with those mental health issues. So instead of making a justification about why you're feeling down, you throw a meltdown for completely nothing. You would rather put your foot down and say you're not going to do this anymore. But what if you can do it?

Progress takes time to get used to because there's an opportunity for you to develop yourself as a person, both in character and personality. When you are questioned about how you're feeling when you are stressed out to a person who can help you get through the struggles properly, that's okay because you can use this communication to explain your emotions and thoughts to the one closer to you. To put it briefly, you have two choices:

A. You can let yourself off the hook by making silly excuses about why you're feeling angry, worried, scared or stressed in the first place.

B. You build a mindset of personal growth and self-development, leading you to success even if failure is an option.

Work:

Carried on with my soundtrack justification draft study

Went to my remote support session

Play/Self-Care:

Went to the Boots Library and borrowed a few more books centring around black music (mostly hip-hop)

Read more of The World of Six Songs

Went to Waterstones and got a new book We Free the Stars by Hafsah Faizal, which is the second and final book in the Sands of Arawiya series

Took a relaxing bath to clear my head

Played video games for a bit

Putting things aside from my studies over the weekend, I don't want to repeat this devastating pattern all over again from the next week onward because something has to be done, despite the hard work, effort and talent I put up with in the second term of university. I want to hold in my vented frustrations and not take it out on something I want to break or someone to attack. Basically, that's what most disabled college/university students go through when they are close to reaching their breaking point.

I'm here to focus on my own priorities with mental health up first, then studying. With several coping mechanisms I utilised to help me minimize my anxiety, that's not enough. I want to be normal. I want to act maturely, not go off like a firework obliterating everything in my path. I already got kicked out of university once and I'm not doing this again. I have a predominance to keep my stress under control while getting my BA Music Performance degree with honours after my three-year undergraduate course is over. It'll take a matter of time before I make peace with myself and my mental well-being once again.

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 19

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:  SHAYLINE

Gods, I’m worried about Art.  He’s not even remotely his old self right now, I almost don’t recognise the charming, easy-going young rogue I so quickly became fond of during our weeks on the road coming south from the Reaches.  Who, for the most part at least, had remained upbeat enough to keep things from getting too grim once it all started to go wrong for us here in Untermer.  Even after Gael was taken, I could still rely on him to be the bright centre of our group, even if there was a note of strain in him now that I could commiserate with, because that sweet young wizard’s my friend too, damn it.

That’s not the keen-edged, steel hard living blade that I found in the recovery room with Darwyn when I went to collect him.  Somewhere between our return from the Late Bone and his going off to tell her what he just had to do, he went from being distractedly numb to … honestly, what I’m watching now is bloody scary.  I remember last week, when Kesla was interrogating that poor dumb kid in this very same backroom behind the temple’s library, and the way she talked about torture scared the hell out of me, it was a side I couldn’t really imagine her being capable of.  Even though I kind of believed it when she spoke about it, all the same.  She’s so hard … but Art?  I definitely never expected him to have such a dark side.

Even Darwyn seems a little taken aback by it now, watching her former lover, the father of her child, intimidate a tough, veteran pirate who’s physically much larger than him so effectively just with words and the mere sight of a small naked blade.  Maybe she’s regretting tagging along with us now, even though she insisted even after he was so adamant that he’d prefer she sat this out, just finished recovering.  I know she wanted to come so she could watch over him, it was clear enough she was as worried about him as I quickly became.  The way she keeps shooting looks my way tells me we’re in the same boat right now.

The woman we brought back from the tavern along with the other two captives is sat in the very same chair the boy was last time we were here, I suspect it hasn’t moved since, left where it was in case it was needed again, I suspect.  When we first arrived she was mostly just slouched in it, like she didn’t really give a shit, she was just annoyed with us all, and with the world for just being here.  She was glaring daggers at the group as a whole, but Thel and Sonagh in particular, I noticed.  It took us a few moments at the start to find out why.

Turns out the investigator knows her already,  at least in passing.  They’ve crossed paths a few times, and none of the encounters ever ended well.  They never came to actual blows, at least, but the old orc definitely doesn’t like her, and the feeling is clearly mutual.  He made it very clear we’re lucky we were able to take her quick like we did, without a real fight, because he says the fierce reputation she has is well deserved.  Apparently she’s one of Jammund’s best fighters, definitely his most ruthless.  She’s dropped a lot of bodies in the harbour with their throats cut over the years, he told us.

Salenda Murkan’s the name she was given, but everybody knows her as Nightwater Sal, or just Sal if they’re actual friends.  Not sure I really want to know any of them.  We’ve only been in the room with her for a span of minutes, and I already despise this woman.

In no small part because she was being particularly uncivil with Thel, and with some particularly nasty language, too.  I get the impression she’s not a very tolerant person, she clearly hates some of the other races with a passion, and it seems dwarves are definitely not to her taste.  Or maybe she just wanted a particular target to focus her ire on, and chose an easier target than the orc.  Honestly, the thought amused me a little, because I’ve known Thel long enough now to know she definitely isn’t an easy target.

That being said, the words clearly still stung her some.  Especially when she called her a “patch-bearded, pint-sized crotch-licker”.  She said she didn’t have a problem with the insult on principle, since it’s not particularly inaccurate, it was just the way she said it.  There was real venom in those words, actual biting hate.

I half expected Kesla to kick her in the face on the spot in a sign of pure solidarity to our diminutive friend.  Instead she just gave her a particularly hard glare and set Art loose on her.

And so here we are.  The first thing he did was collect the chair Kesla previously left to one side once we were done with the last interrogation and plant it barely six inches from Sal’s knees, but instead of sitting down on it he sprang right onto the seat itself and perched there.  Staring across at her, wrists across his knees and paws dangling idly between, shoulders hunched so his eyes were on a level with hers.  Narrowed but sharp as the rest of him is right now.  Not a lick of humour in him anymore.  Like killing his old friend just beat it right out of him …

For a whole minute the room was silent, neither of them said a word, she just slouched there watching him, her own eyes slowly narrowing in turn as she looked him over, slowly but surely discomfited by his unyielding regard.  I don’t think he blinked more than twice the whole time, and didn’t move at all, and it was bloody unnerving. Which of course was the whole point.

Sal was the one to finally break the silence, but while her words were spat with more of that sullen venom I heard the slightest crack in it this time.  “Fuck off, fleabag.  I ain’t giving you shit.  I already told you –”

Her words broke off when he reached across, almost casually, and slipped a knife out from the inside of his left boot.  Quite a small one, I notice, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him use one like it before, but in a way I’m glad, it just looks like absolute bad news, this one.  The way the blade’s hooked like a particularly savage, razor-edged fang, while the handle’s curved back on itself before ending in a steel ring clearly fashioned especially to fit around the tip of any of his chubby paw-fingers … there’s no way this knife could be used for anything other than unpleasant slicing, gouging, debilitating wounds.  And the way he immediately started to play with it so deftly just with one hand, without even looking at it while he was doing it … she started watching that blade moving immediately and hasn’t stopped since.

“So the tunnels, under the tavern.”  he ventures now, keeping his tone light, conversational, but with none of the warmth I’ve grown so used to from him.  “They lead anywhere in particular?”

Yet again, she hesitates before answering him, as she’s done with just about every question since he started this.  Like she’s still thinking about starting to clam up even now, long after she’s wised up to the idea that he isn’t making an empty threat right now.  But then she lets another bitter sigh go and growls her words in that same frustrated but deeply wary growl:  “A whole bunch o’ places.  The Cap’n got safehouses and stashes all over the lower city, ‘specially under the Drumhalt.  But other places too.  Anywhere we can move wares quick and easy to customers, or slip ‘em back under to the Bone, or to other places.”

“On the docks?”  Kesla wonders.  She’s been asking a fair share of the questions too once Art finally got her to start talking, after a due amount of threatening.  But still letting him take the lead for the most part.  “Or under, I guess.”

“The Hardway …”  She grimaces, shooting her a glare now like she wants to spit another insult in keeping with the ones she was much freer with when we first came in.  “Shit … there were others we closed down soon as that place got blown, an’ the Cap’n weren’t too happy ‘bout that.  They ain’t cheap to run, keeping ‘em secret way we been doin’.  Big boss man foots most o’ the bill there, but … snotty bastard still expects his markup back on what we move to make up for it.  Means we’re burning money we can’t afford to right now.”

Kesla looks my way at that, and I have to nod back, knowing exactly what he means by that.  Hontiresk, the man Jammund reports to.  The man he owes money when this all goes to shit.  Like right now.

Art’s just leaning forward again, like he’s been doing, on and off, since he started.  Once again he stops playing the knife back and forth, this time giving it one last swing with the ring now around his index finger, finally tucking the blade underhand as he lets it hang between his knees again.  Like he’s forgetting about it, almost.  She hasn’t, though, her eyes still locked on it.  “The Hardway … that was a real nasty little trick you an’ yours played on us there.  Almost cost us, that.  You can imagine, we’re still pretty sore ‘bout it.  Ain’t you, boss?”

My eyes shoot back to Kesla, who pauses for a beat before answering, her jaw tightening just a little to show how uncomfortable she is with the way her friend’s acting right now.  But she still stays close behind him, towering over the woman, arms folded over her chest in her intimidating way.  “Little bit, aye.  When I have to stretch.”

Sal’s eyes slip from the knife up to her for a moment, wary again as she catches the implication behind her words.  I imagine to her eyes Kesla’s well hidden discomfort is actually due to her still not being entirely recovered from Tavarrat’s nasty little surprise on the First Point.  She licks her lips, probably without even meaning to, and it gives away her nerves clear enough.  “We didn’t … the Cap’n never said anything to any of us about that.  Hardway went up, we didn’t know what the fuck that was, we thought the bloody Terrors were doing some crazy shit, like when they took the docks back in the Invasion.  I dunno … chucking  rocks at the navy again, or something?  Didn’t make a lick o’ sense, it’s all their ships out there now, but –”

“Bullshit.”  Art leans a little closer now, and he raises the his knife hand a little as he does it, curling it under his wrist as he just starts to reach out towards her, close enough now it makes her start to tense up more than she already has.  “We saw the place, when we went in.  Whole fucking warehouse, weren’t a scrap in the place.  You had to have cleaned it out first, you might’ve had that traitor bitch spellcaster porting that stuff outta there or something, whatever, all the people, but … no, she won’t have been doing all the heavy lifting.  Gael told me enough ‘bout how magic works, I know she couldn’t have done it all herself.  So you lot did do that.  So you knew that fucking trap was there.”

“We didn’t, I fucking swear we didn’t.”  Sal’s cringing back as much as the chair will let her, her hands gripping the seat under her now while she’s starting to tip the whole thing back a little with her feet planted firm.  Desperate to get away from him but scared to death of risking any retaliation by actually moving.  She’s gone much more pale than she did when he first drew the knife.  “I swear it, please, pick any fucking god you want and I’ll take an oath right here that I ain’f fucking lying about that …”

Art just stays as he is for a long beat, watching her close, eyes narrowed to cold green slits as he starts to fiddle with his knife again, a good deal less idly this time.  She looks right back at him, but her own eyes are wide now, I suspect she’s maintaining contact purely because she’s terrified to look away in case it looks like she’s lying after all …

“Reckon she’s being truthful ‘bout that, Art.”  Kesla strikes up at last, shifting her footing a little closer to him now.  Keeping her voice level, but a little more insistent now all the same.  He doesn’t seem to respond, but I see a little flicker from his ears to suggest he’s caught her words after all.  Just considering, then.

Finally Darwyn steps closer too, stealing round Kesla’s hip while keeping her feet light, her movements as impressively quiet as they’ve always been, even now.  Even though she’s still a long way from properly healed she’s still so uncannily graceful.  She’s frowning deep now, but seems more cautious than anything else when I look down at her, a cool wariness as she looks the woman over.

All things considered, she’s actually looking pretty good.  I’ve not seen her dressed down so completely before, in fact I have no idea where the clothes even came from, I’ve only known her in black Guild leather so I’ll admit I half expected that to be all she wears.  But these new clothes she’s dressed in, a simple pair of grey wool britches and a soft linen shirt with a loose, open collar and rolled up sleeves, suit her so surprisingly well that they must be her own.  I have no idea where anyone found the time to actually collect any of her things but I suppose it makes a certain amount of sense since she’s been here since we started this.

More so, though, the fact she’s up and about again is heartening enough to see, but she’s still been subdued, which wasn’t unexpected.  She’s still paler than usual, with dark smudges around her eyes that show she’s still not fully recovered yet.  But she doesn’t seem to be in pain now, mostly it’s just her mood that’s effected now.  And I know full well why.

She clears her throat before she speaks, but it’s a subtle little thing so it doesn’t grab a whole lot of attention when she makes it.  Not until she actually starts to speak.  “Who’d you get the weapons from?”

Sal’s eyes shoot to her now, and a frown of deeper confusion spreads across her face now as she just watches her for a long beat.  “What weapons … I dunno what you mean, it’s all our gear we been using –”

“The Guild equipment.  The weapons, the armour, the picks.  How the fuck did you get hold of that shit?”

Oh hell … I’d entirely forgotten about that.  That was such a major sticking point last week, after we first rescued Thel and her friends and discovered that Vik’s people were using equipment that was only available to members of the Thieves Guild, like Art and Darwyn and Zuldrad … and then we kind of overlooked it once other more pressing revelations started to crowd us.  But Darwyn’s raised an important point that I realise now we’ve been foolish to forget … I look at Kesla now and she’s caught it too, cocking her brow quizzically as she acknowledges what I just picked up on.

Art shifts on the chair now, not withdrawing, I notice, instead just moving his empty hand so it grips the seat under him, and now he leans forward instead, turning the knife over in his hand so it’s primed low.  Watching her close now.

She doesn’t answer.  She’s looking from Darwyn to Art and back again, very cautious now as her face becomes much more closed off.  Being really careful about what she says now, looks like.  She’s thinking hard.  “No, I don’t … I really don’t know what that is … we don’t have –”

“Now you’re lying.”  Kesla says, matter-of-fact now, unfolding her arms at last while she lays her left hand on the hilt of her impressive sword in that gesture I’m coming to know so well.  “Not smart.”

Her eyes flickering up to Kesla for just a moment, Sal’s frown deepens as she bares her teeth, some of that old grit returning now.  I think up until now she’s been giving us answers she feels she can get away with giving up because they won’t do any direct harm to Jammund’s operation, but now Darwyn’s caught her with something serious.  Something she can’t just give an answer up on without real compromise.  She might just clam up now.  Sonagh said she’s a hard bitch, a genuinely nasty piece of work.  She’s scared of Art right now, but that’s perfectly healthy – likely she saw what he’s capable of before, and I know what that is.

“Come on.”  He purrs at her now, but it’s not a pleasant sound, closer to a growl, really.  “Don’t make it harder on yourself now.”

Looking back, her eyes return to the knife and linger.  She keeps her teeth bared as her face tightens, and finally hisses under her breath:  “Shit … the big boss set that shit up.  Sent the first shipment over to us day after we started setting up for this.  Cap’n said Vandryss asked for it herself, wanted Vik’s boys to have the best stuff they could, make sure the operation ran smooth like.  Gran supervised that part, cuz he knew the people.  From before.”

Now Art finally settles back, palming the knife as he looks up at Kesla, then down at Darwyn.  “It did come from the Guild.”

“Fuck.”  the halfling breathes, reaching up now to shove her hands more forcefully back through her hair.  “But Cobb … how the hell did they … he don’t know.  He couldn’t have missed it, how the fuck did they –"

“Who’s the contact?”  Again I speak without thinking much about it first, and all eyes turn to me now.  I almost falter this time, but just take a breath and plough on.  “In the Guild.  Do you know who they are?”

Once more Sal seems to be weighing the options, but when Art turns back to her she catches it and this time just grimaces.  “Damn it … some half-elf, puffed up little prick.  Clearly fancies himself some, way he dresses, and how he talks.  Sounds common as the rest of us, but still talks down to everybody he’s dealing with.”

That stirs a memory, from last week, the day after we first got here.  When we were first starting.  When we went to the Guild themselves, Art took us to one of their safehouses and then into the Arrowhead itself.  And there was that other prowler, Art definitely knew him, and definitely didn’t like him.  He seemed all kinds of stuck up.  When I look to her I see Kesla’s clearly thinking along the same lines.

“Glynven?”  Darwyn’s just looking to Art, then Zuldrad, who’s moved forward from where up until now he’s mostly just been loitering at the back of the room.  He’s curious too, now.  “Sparkheel?  That his name?”

“I dunno, prick didn’t give us a name, but he was proper Guild, peacock that he was.  Came every time, four shipments in all.  Damn nice gear, I noticed, but the Cap’n was real adamant he didn’t want any of us lot using any of it.  Said it was … some fancy word, I dunno where he heard it … conspicuous?  Reckon that was it.”  She shrugs, and then her eyes shoot right back to Art, widening just a little, as if she’s suddenly realised that could’ve been misread too.  “Um … said if we needed any more … we should contact our boss not his.  Cuz it weren’t safe.  Dunno exactly what he meant by that.  Then all this shit kicked off and … well, that was it.  We ain’t had any contact with ‘em since.  Or ‘least, not any direct.”

“Cobb?”  Kesla wonders, frowning deep now as she looks down at Darwyn.  “That can’t –”

“No, Glyn don’t work for Cobb.  He’s one o’ Yevnik’s pet killers.”  Darwyn looks to Zuldrad again, and he just frowns back.  “Course, he didn’t come right out and say it.”

“Should still talk to Cobb about it.”  The hob growls back, stroking the bristly hair on his chin ponderously.  “Just in case.”

“Be bloody tricky to pursue, no matter how it actually turns out.  Ain’t no love lost between him an’ Kur, but he’s damn careful not to rub him up the wrong way all the same.  Something like this … it’s a whole lot o’ trouble, just waiting to blow up, like.”

“Might be best to keep that little titbit in reserve for now.”  Kesla mutters, rubbing her own chin now while she keeps the other hand where it is on her sword.  “Can’t imagine anything we need to know about right now would lead back to the Arrowhead, or anything peripheral to it.”

Nodding along, I let a little sigh go.  That sounded promising, but …  “You’re right, the tunnels sound like the smarter move.  Except we don’t know where we’re going yet.  And Big Man said it was a maze down there, even with a destination, probably.”

“True.”  She nods, looking back at Sal, more thoughtful now.  “What about the wizard?”

This just gets another confused look from our prisoner.  “I don’t … Tavarrat didn’t have anything to do with that shit, that was all Gran’s thing.  She –”

“No, the other one.  The prisoner.  Darion Foxtail.”

It takes a few moments for that to dawn on her, then her eyes start to widen as realisation sinks in.  “Wait, what … no.  No, I didn’t have anything to do with that shit.  I told the Cap’n right to his face, that shit was way outta line, we were playing with fire messing round with that.  That was all on Vandryss.  I gave that shit a proper wide berth, same as I left that creepy bitch alone.”

“But you know where he went, same as the cargo.  And our friend.”  Kesla  steps forward when she’s met with another blank stare.  “Young un, half-elf.  The other wizard.  Another Foxtail.”

“Oh … oh no.  No chance.  Fuck you.  That’s one too many, I ain’t giving you that –”

Art’s on her so quickly none of us have a chance to react, his chair doesn’t even shift as he just launches himself off it and knocks her all the way backwards so her own just crashes to the floor with both of them tangling together.  She doesn’t make a single sound until they land, as surprised as the rest of us, finally letting out a winded gasp as the air’s driven out of her, and then she goes dead silent all over again as he bears down on her hard.  By the time I’ve got myself moving in order to react, rushing forward along with Kesla, he’s got the blade to her throat, and I see it’s already dug in tight enough for a little blood to start flowing, but then the edge really is as keen as it looked.

Kesla stops me quick, shooting her arm out to press against my chest and hold me back, but I’m already freezing as it is, seeing Art leaning in so close his nose is almost touching hers now.  It’s a more oblique angle now, but I can just about make out enough of his face to see he looks … honestly, after that leap I expected fierce, but while he’s intense there’s still that coldness to him that worries me a whole lot more.  It’s enough to give me my own chills as I stand by, only able to watch.

“Now you wanna think real fucking careful before you say anything more.”  He growls, low enough it’s entirely for her, but still loud enough that we can all catch it.  “I am not fucking around with you here.  That half-elf they’re talking about?  The one your friends got?  The other Foxtail?  They’re my friend.  Somebody I care a hell of a lot about.  We asked you where they are, where their da is, where the people you been stealing, taking out their homes like fucking monsters, where they all are now.  And we won’t ask again.  I promise you, this is the very fucking end of my patience.  This is where I start cutting, and I won’t stop until I hit bone.  With this knife it’s gonna be surprisingly easy, cuz it’s so sharp, but it’ll still take a little while, cuz the blade’s so short.  Granted, you’ll prob’ly bleed out a ways before I’m done, but I really don’t care.  I still want you to feel as much as you do before you’re gone, so I won’t go easy on you.  It’s gonna fucking hurt.”

Sal keeps dead quiet the whole time, but her eyes get wider too, and I see tears starting to flow freely from the corners of her eyes now listening to him talk like that … it’s enough to make me want to to start weeping too, this is some ugly treatment, right here.  From what I can tell she’s trying hard enough not to breathe any more than she absolutely has to in case this starts cutting into her at all in itself.

“So you’re gonna tell us what we wanna know.  You really are.  You have no way to talk yourself out of this.  The moment you say anything that sounds even a little like you’re telling us to fuck off, even polite like, I start cutting, and I don’t stop.  That is a promise.”  He pauses for a beat, just staring hard into her eyes, then finally pulls back, sitting up as much as he can while keeping his free hand gripped tight into her collar while the knife’s planted firm.  “So talk.  Please.  Tell us where they are.”

Even after all that, she stays silent, even though she’s bleeding already and he’s got her stuck good and fast despite the fact he’s so much smaller than her.  She’s still thinking about clamming up after all, even now.  Her eyes are the only things she can move right now, and they’re searching every one of us for any signs of help, but even if Art wasn’t doing this I know there wouldn’t be any forthcoming.  Not even from me, sick and scared as this is making me.

So finally she just whimpers, and even this is as restrained as she can make it as she’s keenly aware of the blade cutting into her just a little.  “I … I … oh fuck …”  She takes a deep breath, very slowly, and looks up at him once more, her eyes pleading now.  Then they finally roll up to look at the ceiling as she lets it go, slow and hesitant.  “Shit … the Oceanic.”

“Where?”  I look at Kesla now, not getting it at all, but I see quick recognition already dawning in her, and in Sonagh too when I start to search the others.  Thel too, and then I start to twig.  “Wait, what … does she mean –”

“The Playhouse?”  Kesla lowers her arm now as she just steps away from me, taking two very careful steps towards her before planting her hands on her knees and leaning a little closer.  “Hontiresk’s place?  Please tell me you’re fucking joking.  I’ll actually let him cut your throat if you are.”

“It’s fucking true, I swear.  They’re under the Playhouse.  The fucking Oceanic.  In the basement.  There’s like three fucking levels down there, they used to use it for storage of old props and scenery and costumes and shit from the plays but when you lot first turned up Vandryss had some of our folk clean all the rooms out, just in case.  Put in locks on all the doors, serious ones.  Then word came down, a few nights ago, that we were moving everything.  So we did.  Including Foxtail.  The old one, I mean.  The one they caught, like … I dunno, more’n a month back now.  But the other one’s there too, your friend …”  Her voice is starting to break now, the tears coming harder now, I can see, and I can tell she’s getting ready to break too.  “Please … please just let me up now …”

Kesla takes one more step and leans in close enough she doesn’t really need to actually reach up to touch his shoulder, but she does it all the same.  “Art, you wanna give me the knife now?  She ain’t lying.  That’s it.  I’d bet my life on that.  Just give me the knife.  Please?”

Art doesn’t respond right away, he’s still pressing the blade close as Sal just breathes shallow, and I start to wonder if maybe he’s too focused to hear her.  But then he starts to sag, letting his head drop while he finally takes the knife away from her throat, and his paw’s shaking so badly when he raises it I worry he might just drop it and kill her after all.  But Kesla reaches in as soon as it seems safe and very carefully takes hold of the weapon, which he yields to her without a fight now.

While she’s still stepping back I start moving too, rushing in and grabbing hold of his arm now while my other hand gets a good grip of the back of his collar before I start to pull.  Nobody else reacts as I drag him up, largely limp now, not quite a dead weight but not making any effort to resist, and I take an uncomfortably shaky breath as I turn and march him straight for the door.

Lady Naru’s snapping to now, at least, ahead of me now as she gets to the door first and pulls it open, then steps aside quick to let us both through.  Now he’s starting to respond again, not struggling yet but at least making more of an effort to control his own path, so I just tighten my grip and put a little more force into my guidance as I shove him hard through the doorway and then step out after too.  He stumbles for a few steps now he’s free before finally finding his feet again, and as he turns round I’m already squaring up, rolling my shoulders while I shake my arms loose in case I have to grapple him in earnest.

“Shay, I’m sorry, just –”

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid little bastard.”  I spit with a lot more venom than I really planned, but now the shock’s faded I’m just angry with him.  “What the fuck was that in there?  That was not cool.  I mean okay, we needed answers and she wasn’t playing along but that was entirely out of order, you went way too bloody far.  What the hell even was that?”

He doesn’t answer me, but his face is falling fast, growing more stricken by the second as I watch him go over it in his mind.  He looks down quickly, unable to meet my eyes now, and as he takes a few worryingly unbalanced steps back he reaches up, putting his paws to his head to curl his fingers tight into his mane.  His breath’s coming fast now, and after another moment I realise he’s starting to panic.

“Oh shit …”  I start towards him, opening my rms and reaching for him, but he backs away quick, holding his paws out immediately to ward me off, eyes wide.

“No … no, don’t … shit, I can’t … oh fuck …”

“Art, come on, just …”  Gods, I feel so bad, I’m too late realising I’ve overreacted just as much as he just did back in that room, and it’s enough to spur me forward now, forcing myself forward and swatting his warding hands aside before grabbing hold of him anyway.  He tries to push me away again as I pull him close, but once I’ve got my arms wrapped around him he gives up, just melting now as he returns the hug at last.  He’s not weeping, not yet, at least, but I can feel his unsteady breath, hot against my armpit, and squeeze a little tighter.  Mindful of my strength, maybe, but I don’t think I’ll break him, fragile as he might be right now.

After a few moments I lift my head enough to look back towards the room, and find the door’s closed again, Lady Naru and Kesla standing by, the latter looking very uncomfortable with the whole business right now.  She’s still holding the slightly bloody knife, clutched awkwardly at her side between two fingers and the tip of her thumb, like she’s reluctant to actually have it right now.  After a beat she notices me looking at it and grimaces, turning aside now while she starts to fish about in her pocket.

Darwyn’s stood much closer, I realise now, looking up at me with a very worried look on her face.  I haven’t got a clue what to say to her right now, I feel like I’ve let her down.  I never actually came right out and said I’d try and watch out for him in there, but I know that was what she expected as soon as I came and got him.  Now look what’s happened.

A few moments later Art finally starts to push against me, and I take a moment to respond, having to snatch a breath of my own before finally letting go.  He stumbles away, still a little unsteady on his feet, but at least his breathing’s levelled out again.  He still looks so guilty though, his eyes darting around the group before finally settling on Darwyn, and he grimaces again when he sees her.  “Shit … oh, I’m … I’m so …”

She walks up to him, not reaching for him until she’s close, and takes hold of his hand without any resistance.  She looks up at him for a long beat, then lets out a heavy sigh, her face serious now.  “You daft idiot.  What are you thinking right now?”

“That I … that I fucked up real bad in there.”  He looks down at his free hand, which is still shaking, and lets out a slow sigh that’s a little bit of a moan too.  “Fuck … I just fucking lost it.  She wasn’t gonna answer and I just … it got to me.  I was thinking ‘bout Gael, and about Gran and all the shit we been through this past week and everything else, all the people they been … what that monster bitch did up on the Hill … it was all I could do not to just kill her soon as I was on her.  Fuck … did I … is she –”

“Krakka’s seeing to her.”  Kesla finally steps closer, although she’s being wary about it.  “To be honest, reckon it prob’ly looks worse’n it actually is.  She was more scared than anything else, but that was the point.  You got the information we asked for.  So at least it actually worked.”

Now I realise she must’ve been looking for a cloth or something, having produced a scrap of rag to idly wipe the blade clean with cautious fingers.  Watching what she’s doing, in part so she has a reason not to make eye contact now, probably, but mindful even so just how sharp the knife actually is.

“No, I shouldn’t have done that.  I shouldn’t even have been in there.  I’m all outta sorts after … fuck, I’m just tired.  Angry and worn out and done with all this shit.”  Art takes hold of Darwyn’s hand with his other paw now and takes one more step to the side before just letting his body collapse against the wall.  “That never should’ve happened.  You should’ve let Shay talk to her instead o’ me.”

Frowning deep, Kesla crushes the now somewhat bloody rag in her hand and stuff it back into her pocket, carefully palming the knife as she does it.  “Maybe.  But we got a lead now, and it’s a bloody good one.  We know where they’re at.  She was way too scared to be lying in there, you definitely shook the truth out of ‘er.”

“The Playhouse, though?”  Lady Naru sucks a hard breath in between tight lips, looking very skeptical.  “I don’t know … I can’t believe Hontiresk would actually do something so reckless as to use somewhere so … particular for something so unsavoury.”

“Might be Vandryss talked him round to it.”  I venture, voicing my own conviction that Kesla’s reading it right.  “It sounds exactly like something she might think up.  She’s definitely crazy enough.  And it’s kind of brilliant really, if you think about it.  I never would’ve thought of it.”

“Neither would I.”  Kesla nods.  “Makes it even more likely.”

For a long moment nobody speaks, the implication sinking in.  Meanwhile Darwyn yanks on both of Art’s arms and I guess that must be an old signal between them because he gets the hint quickly enough, dropping to his haunches in front of her with a very sheepish look on his face.  She lets go once he’s down, instead reaching up to put her hands on either side of his face, and he lets her pull him forward until their foreheads touch and they both close their eyes.  His breathing smooths out almost immediately.

Finally Lady Naru lets a deep sigh go as she leans into her staff, ponderous now.  “But … I mean, what could we even do?  He’s an Administrator, one of the most senior and influential in this Authority.  More than that, he’s probably the Provisionals’ top ally in the local government.  If we were to actually accuse him of this …”

“Who said anything about accusing him?”  Kesla just frowns back at her, arms folded across her chest now, idly twiddling the knife between her fingers.  “I don’t give a shit if anyone in the Authority approves of what we have to do or not.  I just wanna go get my friend back, and stomp that evil bitch and her nasty little enterprise once and for all.”

The sorcerer blinks at her in clear, wide-eyed shock.  “But you can’t possibly mean … no, that would be … you would be declaring open war on an entitled noble of one of the most powerful families in Untermer.  Whether you free Gael and Darion or not, even if you manage to rescue everyone they’re holding prisoner there …”  She hesitates for a beat as she searches for the right words.  “No, it’s folly.  You’d be lucky to just be branded as criminals.  The Provisionals could declare you all traitors.  Insurrectionists, inciting rebellion.”

Kesla just cocks a brow with a rueful half-smile.  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Frowning again, Lady Naru turns to me.  “Shay, what do you say to this?  Surely you wouldn’t stand for this, it’s folly.  I want to get Gael back as much as any of you, but this is not the way.  You’ll get yourselves killed.  Even if you succeed, the Tektehrans would hunt you for the rest of your lives.  If they catch you, they’ll take your heads.”

Damn it … that’s a hairy prospect to put to me right now.  I’ve never had any direct dealings with the Terrors myself, back in the Reaches we always went out of our way to avoid the Occupational forces, and so long as we left them alone they seemed happy enough to show us the same courtesy.  But ma told me plenty of stories about them, and I heard a good deal more whenever we’d go to Hocknar for trade, enough to put a healthy fear of them into me.  Lady Naru has a strong point, this kind of thinking is extremely dangerous.

Except that I can’t turn my back on my friend, not when we’ve finally got an opportunity to get them back, no matter how crazy or foolish it might be.  I look at Kesla now and she’s watching me close, warily trying to read me in the same way I’m doing with her.  Then I turn to regard Art, finding him looking up at me too, while Darwyn’s just resting her forehead against his cheek now as she seems lost in thought.  I feel a particular weight of expectation in his gaze, because I already know exactly which way he’d prefer to go.

“They can come, I don’t care.”  I turn back to the sorcerer now, seeing her eyes widen again as soon as I speak.  “You can do what you want, but I’m sure we’d stand a much better chance of succeeding if you actually helped.”

For a moment it seems she might protest, but she doesn’t seem rattled now, or even particularly frustrated with my response.  Finally she looks down and gives her staff a tighter twist as she seems to consider, before hissing:  “Damn it.”  Her shoulders slump, but when she looks up again she seems strangely calm.  “Oh hell … I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time I did something supremely foolish for a good reason.  You’re right, it’s for Gael, and Darion.  It might be incredibly stupid, but …”  She shrugs,  starting to smile.  “I suppose I should at least warn Cafi first.  I doubt they’ll approve, but they won’t try to stop us.”

Nodding, Kesla loosens her arms again and starts to walk towards Art.  “Yeah, might be best.  Might be they could even cover for us a little, maybe.”  She stops a step or two short of him and holds the knife out, giving him a careful look.  “You all right now, then?”

Art’s a long time answering, but he reaches out to accept his weapon back after a moment, looking up at her with somewhat guilty eyes.  “I dunno, boss.  That was … I made a mistake, even if it did pay off.  But I’m on board with the rest o’ you, if it means we can get ‘em back.”

Kesla holds onto the knife for a beat longer before finally letting it go.  “Yeah, well I want you to take some time, get your head straight again.  Maybe get a little sleep.  I’ll come get you when we need you.”

“We’re not going now, then?”  I wonder aloud, frowning a little.

“No, reckon we should come up with a smart plan for this.  Sulin’s right, this is a pretty stupid idea.  Even if we do pull this off, we’re gonna be marked for it, no matter what Sirsk might be able to do for us in the Authority.  Daste’s gone, so’s Wralin.  We ain’t got any friends left here now, ‘least nobody with any actual weight.”  She shrugs.  “Very least, be smart to wait until after dark.”

Yeah … that sounds right.  Maybe … I turn to Lady Naru again.  “The Playhouse … they had a play on, right?  Is there going to be another performance tonight?”

Blinking, she considers for a moment.  “Yes, there will be.  Two performances a day for the first week, a matinee before an evening performance.”  She cocks a brow.  “What are you thinking?”

I turn back to Kesla, unable to keep the smile from my face.  “You feel like going to a show?”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[weirdocat83]

*deep inhale*

So basically-

Personally I think the mental breakdown of “he’s alive! (Sort of)” comes first because if Xie Lian ever became a calamity… Jesus Christ that would take a lot. Which, Wu Ming did fundamentally change the way Xie Lian thinks so yeah, I could see that happening, but also I’d assume it’d be probably even more mixed feelings than when hua cheng found Xie Lian after 800+ years even if said feelings are mostly positive because Xie Lian firmly thought he was dead unlike hua cheng who knew his god was alive and out there somewhere . They’d probably end up spending some time together, getting to know each other better, doing things for each other, all that domestic stuff. Then they’d probably actually start talking about the serious stuff. Why Wu Ming sacrificed himself, their shared history, possibly wu ming’s “beloved” and many apologies from a very embarrassed Xie Lian regretting his decisions. In canon Xie Lian doesn’t care all that much about the intensity of Hua Cheng’s devotion to him and frankly, I don’t think that’d change. I like to think they’d walk out of Mt. Tonglu together and create ghost city together. It’d probably affect most of the events of canon and it’s possible that heaven would never know much about Hua Cheng or Xie Lian after that.

Yes, ghost city would still end up being created but if Xie Lian didn’t want Hua Cheng to take revenge on those 33 gods, he probably wouldn’t. Which, is kinda the thing that Hua Cheng is known for. I think Heaven would have vaguely heard of them and definitely some gods would still be in ghost city but there wouldn’t be the lasting impression of “hua cheng is evil and don’t go near him.”

It’s possible Lang qianqiu wouldn’t be a god at all considering it’s likely that without Xie Lian teaching him he wouldn’t have ascended. Or he just would have no clue who Xie Lian was. Same for Pei Xiu and Banyue. Yin yu would probably end up working for Hua cheng still but would probably bond with Xie Lian. Not sure if the black water arc trio would be affected at all. Tho imagining a tiny shi Qingxuan meeting an eternally unlucky Xie Lian would be funny. Admittedly if Hualian got involved in the black water arc before everything went to shit, realistically, there’d be no issues.

Xie Lian would most likely still ascend again but he’d have believers in ghost city and less issues to deal with. Some fundamental changes to their characters would most likely be that hua Cheng’s self worth issues wouldn’t be as bad because he finds out Xie Lian loves him as he is 800+ years prior to when he does in canon and there is literally no chance that Xie Lian isn’t gushing to him about how pretty he is every second hua cheng says something even remotely negative. Likewise Xie Lian’s self worth and self harming tendencies wouldn’t really be there either. He’s experienced hell in the fall of xianle and before he re-met wu Ming but also hasn’t spent 800+ years wandering and not being able to die. His pain tolerance would be worse but he might also have sharpened his skills both cultivation and regular skill wise.

It’d probably take a long time to properly find a way to get the cursed shackles off and as such hua cheng would probably try to cultivate as much as possible to be able to break them off without dispersing himself (because gege would be sad if he weren’t there) so Xie Lian, while probably still borrowing spiritual power from Hua Cheng, would still focus on his technical skills. He also has one of, if not the, best sparring partners in the world. You think the sword fanatic is just going to leave that there???? Absolutely not. They’d train together every other day (if not every day) for the hell of it.

These are just my thoughts. Feel free to add more!

AU where Wu Ming dispersing makes Xie Lian so distressed that he ends up becoming a calamity.

And so when Mount Tonglu calls...

And Xie Lian hops into the Kiln a year or so after Wu Ming does

And Xie Lian walks in on Wu Ming crafting the giant statue...😳

Do they battle (reluctantly)? Do they talk? Do they make out???

Idk what I'm getting at here but the brain worms are eating me alive. If anyone knows a fanfic like this already pls let me know I want to CONSUME

[dairy-farmer]

Because I love angst....

There’s some fics where Tim tries to help Jason to kill him so that he can rejoin the family, where he assumes Jason and the rest of the family won’t miss him and he is passively suicidal.

Usually, it goes that he’s mistaken. I want a world where’s he not.

Jason brutally murders Tim in Titan’s Tower...maybe even worse. (R*pe) Then, he destroys the body, and sets off to rejoin the batfam.

Bruce and Dick, are, predictably, overjoyed to have Jason back. They don’t know he killed Tim—he’s gone missing, but nobody really cares too much. Why should they? It’s a miracle. Jason’s back.

Sure, Kon and Bart care, but they die soon after, in manners similar to canon.

Time goes on. Jason tells them the censored story. They weep and hug him. All is well. He doesn’t regret killing the imposter.

But it starts to feel a little strange, because he thought he’d have to try a little harder, if you know what he means. Bruce takes over a month to actually open a case regarding Tim. Nobody opens it for weeks at a time. No one is really *looking*— it seems they’re content to let it lie.

Tim’s school eventually reports his drop in attendance. The Drakes take a month to return home. They pay off the police to keep the investigation hush-hush— Drake Industries might not be able to tank the bad publicity if it gets out that their son is likely dead due to their negligence.

They leave again, for Peru, or Ecuador, or Suriname. Jason can’t keep it straight.

He kept one trophy. A single tooth, from the back of the mouth. He had knocked it free with a crowbar sometime during the killing. He keeps it in a false bottom in his sock drawer. There’s nothing else. The acid made sure of that.

Meanwhile, he gets used to the evolution in operations down in the bat cave. There’s a few new rogues, a few new allies— Cass is pretty cool, he supposes. The bar computer is a lot better than he remembers. It’s a bit like the internet before and after google, the difference is so stark— messy, poorly formatted files are now neatly saved and backed-up and cross-referenced.

He asks Oracle about it. She mentions it being the work of— she pauses here, not wanting to say ‘the previous robin’.

Eventually, she says, “The Substitute”, even though Jason isn’t Robin anymore, is working on his own costume and identity with the help of his family. Red Hood is a dusty secret, not entirely MIA, but operated remotely so as to not draw the suspicion of his family.

It’s the first time he ever feels something about the boy that isn’t rage. It’s something else, gray and shriveled in his gut. He doesn’t know a word for it, and he doesn’t need to. He pushes it aside.

But he’s always had an addictive personality. A week later, he’s the only one in the cave. The bat computer just sits there, calling his name in a voice he doesn’t want to recognize. He heard it before, sobbing mostly.

He finds the old ID. When he logs in, the setup takes several minutes to load, which is strange, because everything is so much faster now, loading in milliseconds.

There’s files. More than Jason can even fathom. Case files, photos, and video footage from the Robin mask. Even a few AI chess-games with game times going into the months-long territory, differently coded ‘players’ wining or loosing matches against each other into perpetuity, with nobody left to witness them.

There’s a lot of side projects like that. They’re usually quite strange, technically complex, and Jason slowly realizes as he pores over them in between watching the trackers for Bruce and Dick’s return, bloody brilliant.

Weirdly, it just breeds a sort of awe in his chest. No anger.

And there’s the footage. It takes him bags full of high-storage flash-drives to get all of it. He watches it alone in his room. Tim Drake in black and white security footage in the cave, quietly cleaning up after Batman or sitting hunched at the bat computer— looking so small, hunched over with his legs tucked in like he’s cold.

Footage from his Robin encounters— he’s quiet, speaks far more rarely than Jason or Dick had. He’s got this sweet, soft little voice that Jason actually finds quite relaxing. Sometimes he mutters to himself when he’s solving a problem faster than Jason can believe, always sounding a little unsure of his own brilliance.

Jason’s always had an addictive personality. It’s why he killed Tim, in a way. He just gets obsessed.

It happens all over again, in reverse.

He starts seeing Tim in his dreams, in the corner of his vision when he’s tired. He doesn’t speak, and when Jason reaches for him, he’s always drifting away, his expression blank.

He runs out of footage. The dreams turn into nightmares. He’s running, screaming, crying, begging for a companion in a vast void, and there’s Tim, off in the distance, hunched over., never able to see or hear him.

Sometimes, he finds Tim, after wandering in the rocky hellscape for hours. Or, what’s left of him. It’s never a skeleton, always a fresh corpse— mangled almost beyond recognition if not for the tatters of red and green. It’s a familiar sight.

Back when Tim was reported missing to the Police, somebody— probably Dick— was sent over to the Drake manor to collect all of Tim’s things, hopefully clearing anything incriminating.

Jason checks the evidence storage. There’s long rows of it, shelves leading into the darkness of the vast cave tunnels. It takes him several nights to find the sealed plastic box.

DRAKE MANOR it is labeled in neat, blocky letters. In the notes section of the item sheet, it mentions a loose floorboard and a false panel in the wall. It’s clinical. The paper is damp and dusty.

When he opens it, he finds notebooks, stuffed with sticky notes and yellowed with use, and more than that, *photos*. His heart nearly stops, desperate for a new hit of his newest drug.

When he begins to look through them, he has to sit down, because— because they’re *old*. Really old.

He stares at a photo of himself as Robin, silhouetted proudly by the Gotham moon. It’s a great shot, perfect in composition and and coloring. He can’t imagine how long it took Tim to get it.

He couldn’t have been older than 11. He pictures the School photo-day records he had dug up, that even smaller, paler Tim, with his shy, gap-toothed smile.

His hand curls into a fist. There’s something wet in his eyes. For the first time, he allows himself to acknowledge its more than the dust.

He’s in love with Tim Drake, he thinks. He thinks it again. It’s stronger each time, more and more sure, until it’s a crescendo pumping in every inch of his body. It’s like the hot twin of the Pit, but somehow *more*. He can barely stand it.

He sends Bruce a note over the Bat-Chat about the status of the missing ‘neighbor’, as they tend to refer to him.

Bruce seems surprised he asked, and then reassures him that he always viewed Jason as the proper Robin. That boy didn’t mean anything to him, he says.

He gets an even more flippant response from Dick, punctuated by an octopus-hug that Jason has to excuse himself from to go vomit in the bathroom.

Because he knows that. He knows Tim didn’t mean anything to them. He can see it, in the old footage. In the way they treated him like a servant at best, a crutch, and a scapegoat at the worst.

He sees the shake of his skinny little limbs as he hauls himself out the back door in the snow back to the empty Drake Estate, his bruised ribs trembling in the cold.

He sees the glitzy press conference recently held by Drake Industries, where the only mentioned of their missing son was a token used to bolster their story of ‘resilience in the face of challenges’, garnering more donations to their nascent technology fund.

He knows Tim didn’t mean anything to them. He didn’t mean anything to anybody.

All alone.

Something in Jason curdles for the second time. This time, he needs no pit to grant him rage.

(Im going to continue this, but my phones dying lol. Expect a contusion In the coming days, but Id love to hear ur thoughts!!!!)

tim!!!😢😢😢😢 the fact that no one cares that tim died, no one looks into it at all!! jason slowly falling in love with tim through the little things about him that were left behind!

that line!! where jason realizes that both dick and bruce along with tim's parents don't care to know what happened to the boy that jason killed and whose body he destroyed. "He knows Tim didn’t mean anything to them. He didn’t mean anything to anybody."

😢😢😢😢😢

fics where tim gets the short end of the stick just hit so much harder because he's my fav and seeing him suffering!!! tim hasn't even suffered for long here and he's not present to see how unmourned he was but it's just so tragic all the same and heartwrenching!! that the only person genuinely upset by tim's death is the person who killed him.

and you feel for jason, despite the fact that he killed tim who was innocent. you really feel for him because as his state of mind becomes more steady you can see how the regret and horror slowly seeps in. he's being haunted by the horrible guilt and disgusted realization that even if he confessed and told what he did...nothing would happen. part of jason is still that boy, that robin who fought for justice and now here he is, the person who comitted a heinous act that can't be taken back and it's just so horrendous. because he didn't just stop at killing tim, he erased every bit of evidence of what happened to him, he destroyed his body- there is no trace or bit of tim drake left in the world aside from the few words he left behind.

and the absolutely gut-wrenching tragedy of jason falling for tim, of having been probably the only person to care for tim but that care coming too late to save tim.

it's just so sad!!!!! 😢😢😢😢 i'm happy you wrote and shared it but it really is the most angsty thing i think i've read in a while!!!

[kikizoshi]

Why Fyodor Believes Himself Justified in Killing Children: A 'Crime and Punishment' Correlation

This is just something I noticed rereading Crime and Punishment, and because I've always thought of Fyodor's reason for, essentially, killing that little girl in front of Kunikida, well, it was obviously to create a mental problem for him, but I kept asking myself, "how could he justify killing a little girl for that, even if it was important to his plan, when she was innocent?" I came to the conclusion almost immediately, mostly because of his expression in the manga panels below and what he'd said thus far, that he didn't feel good killing her, but it was Right in his mind, because her life would have been a miserable, sinful one, and to die even before she turned seven (for why that age specifically, see: Ivan Karamazov's children rant, "Children while they are quite little—up to seven, for instance—are so remote from grown‐up people; they are different creatures, as it were, of a different species."), before the age where sin can truly manifest, he would therefore be saving her from a worse fate. So while he isn't happy about killing a child, and takes no pleasure in it, he nevertheless sees it as for the best (both because her soul is now free of this wretched world, and Kunikida's mind is damaged like he needs).

This quote below reminded me of my conclusion, and I think makes a pretty good example of that kind of thinking.

Raskolnikov, the main character of Crime and Punishment, had just, probably, saved a young girl (probably around fourteen to sixteen? but they're not sure) from being "taken advantage of" while she was either drunk or drugged, I'm not sure (she had already been raped before that, it's clear, but he saved her from it happening again on the street). She wasn't in her right mind, and he just saved her, and gave the cop he left to look after her essentially the last change in his pocket, to make sure she could take a cab safely to where she lived. Since that was his last bit of change, however, he immediately started berating himself, confused as to why he would do such a useless thing. This is what's directly after:

'In spite of those strange words he felt very wretched. He sat down on the deserted seat. His thoughts strayed aimlessly.... He found it hard to fix his mind on anything at that moment. He longed to forget himself altogether, to forget everything, and then to wake up and begin life anew....

“Poor girl!” he said, looking at the empty corner where she had sat—“She will come to herself and weep, and then her mother will find out.... She will give her a beating, a horrible, shameful beating and then maybe, turn her out of doors.... And even if she does not, the Darya Frantsovnas [prostitute recruiter, I think] will get wind of it, and the girl will soon be slipping out on the sly here and there. Then there will be the hospital directly (that’s always the luck of those girls with respectable mothers, who go wrong on the sly) and then... again the hospital... drink... the taverns... and more hospital, in two or three years—a wreck, and her life over at eighteen or nineteen.... Have not I seen cases like that? And how have they been brought to it? Why, they’ve all come to it like that. Ugh! But what does it matter? That’s as it should be, they tell us. A certain percentage, they tell us, must every year go... that way... to the devil, I suppose, so that the rest may remain chaste, and not be interfered with. A percentage! What splendid words they have; they are so scientific, so consolatory.... Once you’ve said ‘percentage’ there’s nothing more to worry about. If we had any other word... maybe we might feel more uneasy.... But what if Dounia [Raskolnikov's sister] were one of the percentage! Of another one if not that one?"'

Here's the full chapter if anyone's interested.

I was reminded of Fyodor's expression here in this scene, because that Crime and Punishment passage was a good example of what I already felt Fyodor believed.

And here as well:

Both scenes are the only time I think we've seen Fyodor have a genuine reaction to the deaths he's caused (probably because they're children, not yet entirely sunken into the world's sin, yet having been born, still too old to be saved in this life), and he has a similar reaction each time. Ah, and by "genuine" I don't mean that he was entirely ingenuine the other times he's killed. I just mean that, well, he's usually wearing a figurative mask, and he doesn't seem to be in either of the instances where he's killing the children, so I think it's a good stepping-off point for what he's really like without all the lies and manipulation.

Boat Boy, or Karma, had a similar fate awaiting him as the little girl. Karma's life was as low as he could probably be, and he had no way of climbing out, and there wasn't really any light at the end of the tunnel, no salvation in sight. His biggest hope was a pipe dream upon which's realisation—in such an unrealistic world where it would come true—would only serve to entrench him further in the world's evil and sin.

The little girl was similar. Considering her adult figure was the type of guy to use armed children (and his siblings at that) as distractions to escape on his own, and she herself was doomed to grow up a criminal, her life wouldn't have had any hope for its future.

Fyodor saved them, Karma and the little girl, from that fate. I don't know if his Ability had anything to do with cleansing their souls or something—that's another, super involved discussion—but I do think he genuinely felt like, though not a good outcome, it was the best that he could have done for those two children.

Not that he's right.

And, yeah, that's about it. It's definitely worth bringing up Ivan Karamazov's whole children rant, but that's another book, and it would just take a lot more time overall to pick out quotes, explain exactly what Ivan was saying and how it relates to Fyodor, and this is just meant to be a quick post.

This is the chapter where Ivan Karamazov talks extensively about children, the cruelties committed against them, etc. if anyone's interested. Please be warned that it's fairly triggering.

It can be (somewhat) summed up in this early, non-triggering quote from Ivan:

"But, in the first place, children can be loved even at close quarters, even when they are dirty, even when they are ugly (I fancy, though, children never are ugly). The second reason why I won’t speak of grown‐up people is that, besides being disgusting and unworthy of love, they have a compensation—they’ve eaten the apple and know good and evil, and they have become ‘like gods.’ They go on eating it still. But the children haven’t eaten anything, and are so far innocent."

(I want to note that I don't base all of my understanding of Fyodor's beliefs on what Ivan Karamazov believes, I just think some of what Ivan Karamazov believes lines up with what Fyodor would probably believe.)

[jmflowers]

prompt #33: "Ew, Andrea..."

July 2039

“Ew, Andrea,” Beatrice grumbles, leaning away from her brother with a scowl, “Can you shower before you sit on the furniture?”

He sighs, tipping his head onto the back of the couch as he closes his eyes, exhaustion radiating off him in waves. “In a minute,” he mumbles, already half asleep.

“You smell like a dog,” Beatrice mutters, shuffling down the cushions to curl up against the arm, desperate to get away from him and the stench.

“You smell like a dog when you come in after practice,” Andrew refutes, folding his arms across his chest as he gets more comfortable. “This is just… oil and grease.”

“And sweat,” Beatrice adds. She frowns, tossing the TV remote onto the coffee table as she turns towards her brother. “Why did moms make you get a job?”

The question makes Andrea chuckle. “They didn’t.”

“Then why are you spending your summer making fries for a bunch of tourists?”

Andrea laughs again, cracking one eye open to have a look at his little sister. She’s gotten more tolerable in the last few months – less like a pesky little brat and more like a reasonable human being he doesn’t mind hanging around with.

She has her moments, of course, but she cracks a good joke and she’s stopped tattling every time she catches him deep in Mom’s secret stash of snacks.

“It’s money,” he offers by way of explanation, knowing it won’t be the answer she’s willing to accept. She’s good at that; digging until she finds the truth. Mama does it, too.

“Moms give us money,” Beatrice argues, “Why would you waste your free time making it?”

He sighs again, accepting that she’s not going to let him catch a couple minutes of slumber and sits up to look at her properly. She doesn’t see in herself what the rest of the world sees, he knows; the brand name clothing, the high-end running shoes, the unlimited access to food and shelter and all the training she desires.

She doesn’t realize, at thirteen, that they’re privileged.

“Do any of your classmates have jobs?” he asks.

She frowns, shaking her head.

“Mine do,” he tells her, “Most of my classmates do.”

“So, you got a job because everyone else did?” Her face pinches up at the concept, the very idea of following the pack so completely foreign to her way of life. She likes to be different, even if different at thirteen is mostly just listening to music her classmates have never heard of and not fawning over whichever boy they’ve all deemed the cutest.

“No,” he promises, trying not to laugh out loud when relief washes over her face. “But some of my classmates… they don’t have a choice, like we do. They have to have a job while they go to school, to help pay for stuff their family needs.”

“I know about low-income families, Andrea,” she huffs, folding her arms and jutting her chin forward in that indignant way she always does when someone challenges her. Or assumes that she might be sweet and innocent and dumb just because she’s blonde.

She’s like their mom that way, he supposes.

He shrugs, unwavering beneath her fiery gaze. “I don’t know what you know.”

“We volunteered at the SFD Food Drive like, two months ago,” she mutters, fixing him with a glare that screams you’re stupid.

“I’m just saying,” he presses on, ignoring her comment instead of admitting that he doesn’t even remember her tagging along to the Food Drive, “We’re really lucky to have everything we need. But that might make it hard for us to relate to other people sometimes.”

He tries not to grin as the self-righteous smirk falls from her face, replaced by yet another frown as she tries to track his train of thought.

“I might not understand,” he continues, “When one of my peers is discussing the challenges of juggling school and work. Or the difficulties of navigating customer service with unruly customers. But if I give myself those experiences, I can become a more compassionate human being and thus, a better, more well-rounded member of our society.”

Beatrice squints, silent for a moment as she processes what he’s said. “You got a summer job,” she murmurs, “Making fries in a trailer at the Pier, so that you’d seem like less of a jerk?”

Her assessment makes him laugh, the sound bursting out of him before he has much say in the matter. Good at cracking jokes. “Yes,” he chuckles, “Exactly.”

“You’re more stupid than I thought,” she goads as she turns away, reaching for the remote once more. He doesn’t miss the way her brows furrow, though, clearly thinking over what he’s said, ingesting it slowly as she usually does.

He pushes off from the couch, trying not to groan as his legs yell out in protest. “Guess I better shower, then,” he acquiesces as he heads toward the stairs in exhausted defeat.

“I think it’s too late,” Beatrice calls after him, “We might have to burn this couch.”

all day long, there's been a little voice in my head repeating "ew, Andrea, can you shower before you sit on the furniture?" and that's my experience with writing... always

[robininthelabyrinth]

CQL-Verse: Wen Ning did a whole lot of risky stuff saving JC and the bodies at Lotus Pier. What if NMJ hears and gets talked into helping protect him and the Wen remnants by the Jiang bros, because even if he's a wen, he still 1. whole ass poisoned wen chao 2. straight up commited treason and was punished for it to protect sect heirs and 3. is extremely baby brotherable. you can fit so much h/c into this bad boy

ao3

Untamed

1

Wen Qing was angry about the trials, but Wen Ning thought they made a reasonable amount of sense.

After all, how was the rest of the cultivation world supposed to know what they did in the war without a proper trial? It was only reasonable for them to make certain assumptions about them based on their surname, the same way everyone assumed that those surnamed Jin were rich, those surnamed Lan were beautiful, those surnamed Jiang were bold to the point of arrogance…

The Nie were supposedly known for their tempers, but Wen Ning hadn’t seen much evidence of that so far.

In fairness, his only experiences with a Nie were, firstly, with Nie Huaisang at the Cloud Recesses, which he was fairly sure didn’t count, and now, during the trial, with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue laughed the entire trial.

“You poisoned the wine,” he sniggered. “At their own celebratory feast…! And then you just went straight to Yiling, where your sister was in charge. And it still took him how long to find you?”

“Weeks,” Wen Ning meekly admitted.  

“Can we go back to the bit where you saved Wei-xiong from the giant dog beast using stolen needles?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“No, we cannot,” Nie Mingjue’s deputy – a somewhat long-suffering looking man that they all called Meng Yao – said. “He’s already gone over it four times, Huaisang.”

“But –”

“No.”

“Spoilsport! Look at how much fun da-ge’s having; it’s not fair.”

“He’s the sect leader. If he wants to hoot like a shrieking monkey, he’s entitled to it.”

“I’m not hooting,” Nie Mingjue protested. “I am recognizing talent.”

“Talent.”

“Exactly. Talent.”

“At…what, exactly?”

“Causing trouble,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “I recognize it from Wei-xiong, I could spot it anywhere.”

“Could we possibly proceed with the trial?” Meng Yao asked, obviously deciding not to continue with that discussion. “We have six more to finish today. Can I assume that given the evidence of Wen-gongzi’s subversive activities and his subsequent imprisonment throughout much of the Sunshot Campaign, he is absolved of all crimes and allowed to go free?”

“You spoilsport,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes at him. “Yes, I think so. Wen Qionglin, you are free to go your own way – though if you wish to stay here in Qinghe as a guest cultivator, we would be glad to have you for however long you wish.”

Wen Ning thought that sounded all right.

2

The Nie sect were known for their tempers, and justly so, but Wen Ning quickly figured out that he didn’t need to be afraid of Nie Mingjue’s occasional outbursts (quickly roused, quickly doused) or Nie Huaisang’s temper tantrums (petty) and occasional grudge-holding (rarer but much more dangerous).

No, Wen Ning figured out very quickly in his first weeks that the one to be afraid of was clearly Meng Yao.

Wen Ning had been weak and sickly his whole life in a sect that valued strength above all; he had survived hiding behind his sister, but she couldn’t always be there for him, no matter how she tried. He’d soon learned that surviving on his own meant being quiet and obedient, never making trouble or drawing attention to himself, and it also meant being extremely attuned to the minute expressions that might signal the difference between Wen Chao being angry enough to throwing a teacup at his head and being angry enough to order him to be taken outside and beaten until unconscious.

The same skills helped him in the Nie sect, where people were very often angry. Wen Ning could tell the difference between Nie Mingjue raging to let out steam (moderately common and generally innocuous, easily ignored) and being actually upset (typically only dangerous to the furniture, which was a nice change, but more worrisome in the sense that he might go and do something stupid afterwards), and he could tell that Nie Huaisang’s true anger, so rarely triggered, tended more towards the cold and hidden (definitely a sign he was going to do something, but unfortunately for everyone involved it’d invariably be far more malicious - enough to make you long for stupid).

He could tell that Meng Yao was, despite all his smiles, very often angry.

Like Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao’s temper was easily roused to the point of fury; like Nie Huaisang, his anger lasted a long time and usually called for some malicious action before it could be properly assuaged.

“Senior Meng,” Wen Ning tentatively said one day when his curiosity got to be too much for him. “Could I ask a rude question?”

Meng Yao’s temper, hidden deep in his eyes, flared at once, preemptively, and Wen Ning shivered and looked down at the ground. He had known what he was risking, but he hoped that asking permission in advance might allow him to get the question out with minimal reprisals – cold meals for a few days, perhaps, or being assigned to the training yard only when the most sadistic training-master was supervising, but only for a week or so.

“Of course, Wen-gongzi,” Meng Yao said, and he sounded nice and pleasant and like no question could possibly be rude enough to cause him any disturbance. It was a little frightening how good he was at that. “I can’t imagine what you would want to know that would be rude.”

“Are you related?” Wen Ning blurted out. “To Sect Leader Nie, I mean – his family –”

Meng Yao stared at him. His mouth was slightly hanging open.

“…it’s a stupid question,” Wen Ning concluded, feeling ashamed. Of course Meng Yao had been promoted entirely on merit; it was only his imagination getting away from him. “I’m sorry. I’ll go –”

“No, wait,” Meng Yao croaked. “Related – to the Nie sect – forgive me. How did you reach that conclusion?”

“I mean, you’re obviously treated as part of the main family,” Wen Ning pointed out. There were plenty of Nie cousins that weren’t treated anywhere near as well; both Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang were not only protective but almost possessive over Meng Yao’s time and dignity - surely by now everyone knew that the surest way to get them each angry in their own ways was to slight Meng Yao. “You wear Nie braids like them – you wear clothing like them – you have a temper like them –”

Meng Yao started laughing.

“…did I miss something?”

3

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to the Lotus Pier after you’d been absolved,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping the weiqi piece on the board a few times before making a move. “Given your fondness for Wei-xiong and all that.”

“Wei-gongzi’s very nice,” Wen Ning said vaguely, staring down at the board. He’d played a lot of weiqi in his life – including against Wen Ruohan when the man had still been remotely sane, mostly because he’d been the only one stuck back at the palace with him more often than not – but playing against Nie Huaisang required all of his attention. The first time he looked away, he’d get lured into a trap. “Very kind.”

“And yet you stay here,” Nie Huaisang prompted. “In Qinghe, with us, when even your sister picked the Lotus Pier.”

Wen Ning had never been without his sister this long before. He knew that she still expected him to come to the Lotus Pier. She hadn’t expected him to last the week without her; she’d said as much when she first went, huffing at him for being ridiculous – a Wen as a guest cultivator in the Nie sect, of all places? – and telling him, in between reminders to take his medicine on time, that she’d prepare a place for him there so that he would be comfortable when he arrived.

Her letters, in the weeks and now months since that time, had never overtly asked when he was going to finally get around to moving there, and had recently developed an almost quizzical tone, as if she’d finally realized that he wasn’t.

“I like it here,” Wen Ning said, and moved his piece.

Nie Huaisang moved his own almost immediately in response, which meant that Wen Ning had made a horrible mistake that played straight into Nie Huaisang’s hands. Not an uncommon occurrence. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “We like having you here, too.”

Surprised, Wen Ning looked up.

Nie Huaisang was smiling at him – he smiled nearly as often as Meng Yao, but unlike Meng Yao, he never smiled if he didn’t want to, so his smiles were actually sincerely meant each and every time. He had a wide range of smiles: nervous smiles, cheerful smiles, devious smiles…

Wen Ning was good at reading expressions, but he had to admit he’d never had to work as hard at it as he did with Nie Huaisang.

“We’re a very nice sect, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and even seemed to believe it. “We’re always open to people who are like us. The only thing we can’t tolerate is injustice and betrayal; as long as you stick with us and put us first, you’re ours, and we’re yours.”

That sounded nice, Wen Ning thought, and moved a piece blindly. “You think I’m like you? My sister doesn’t think so.”

“I think you fit in very nicely,” Nie Huaisang said, and his smile had teeth to it. He moved quickly, again. “You’re angry and resentful, but you don’t let it get in the way of what you want - just like us. Your sister probably doesn’t think that about you, either, but then again, that’s why she’s in the Jiang sect, with their heads in the air, dreaming of the impossible. I bet she never even noticed that you had a temper.”

She hadn’t. Wen Ning had been her baby brother and nothing else for a long time; he never had to defend himself as long as she was around. 

He’d never had the chance to defend himself.

(He didn’t resent her for that. He didn’t. She was his big sister, his favorite person, and he loved her so much that he didn’t mind the way that all her fussing sometimes made the world feel cramped and small, as if he were being forced into a place that he’d long since outgrown.)

“Do I have a temper?” he asked, and moved another piece.

“Oh, yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “You’re like me – slow to boil – and like Meng Yao, hiding it behind your eyes. You’re even a bit like da-ge: you don’t need to be the one get the frustration out as long as something deals with it, but if nothing does, it nags at you and wears at you, like a thorn stuck in your flesh, until you can’t be silent any longer. Until you have to do something, or else you’ll explode.”

That sounded about right, Wen Ning thought. He’d never really had a chance to explode in the Wen sect, out of fear of what they’d do to his sister if he did, and he’d been sick with it – he’d limited himself to little rebellions, nameless pranks, right up until he met Wei Wuxian, who was kind to him, and couldn’t stop himself from helping him. He sometimes thought, in the days he’d spent in the dungeons, that if he died he’d come back as a fierce corpse, soul-calming rituals or no, and he’d might even enjoy it if only for the opportunity to finally vent his feelings – to finally pay back every single injustice that he’d ever seen, each one marked down in his heart in an indelible list of regrets.

Maybe Nie Huaisang was right. 

Maybe that was why he stayed here, in the Nie sect, the sect of do not tolerate evil instead of the Lan sect’s chivalry and righteousness or the Jiang sect’s attempt the impossible.

Maybe he wanted to fight back for once. To have a temper, to have rage, to be something more than Wen Qing’s shy, stuttering shadow.

“I like it here,” he said again, but if his words were the same then the flavor was different: he meant it this time.  

He understood, this time, what he meant by it.

Nie Huaisang smiled at him and moved another piece. Winning the game, Wen Ning noticed.

“Good,” he said. “Now move over – sit in front of the mirror. I’ll show you how to do your hair right.”

“Really?”

“Really. Also, Da-ge’s been practically champing at the bit to teach you saber, and Meng Yao has been making grandiose plans about redoing the way we recruit and train doctors with you leading the charge, so if you’re not up for either of those, now’s the time to say something.”

Wen Ning settled down in front of the mirror.

“No,” he said. “Those sound good to me.”

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

fuck I still haven't done the rewrite of the Mutant Town AU that I specifically came off hiatus to write, like the Plant Witch Sam and Pharaoh Tucker posts were written to prep this au and I just got wildly distracted so uhhhh

yeah the concept is in the link but the gist is that the people and town becoming mutated by constant ectoplasmic contamination, we all know and love this concept right but I'm gonna expand on it

this is a direct result of the portal being opened, but they aren't getting infected from the portal, the issue is that creating a permanent opening into the ghost zone has weakened the veil between their worlds and Amity Park and the Ghost Zone sort of slip in and out of each other constantly

and because ectoplasm responds strongly to emotions (poltergeists being made from atmospheric emotions for example) it all tends to converge very heavily at the school full of hormonal teenagers

so Casper High becomes its own god damn cryptid, the teachers get so jaded about opening the door to a classroom and finding just a whole ass ghost zone on the other side that they just put a sign on the door telling kids to go to a different room, lockers swap contents with other lockers so kids have started putting their names on the inside so they know who's stuff they've just found

this also means the kids get super affected, like super affected, literally, they all get ghost powers, some are just physical mutations, some are just super abilities, or a general increase in natural ability, like a member of the track team getting super speed

it takes a while for Danny and co. to figure this out, Sam and Tucker should have been warning signs as they've spent the most time around ghosts and the ghost zone, but that's why the Witch Sam and Pharaoh Tucker posts are important

they have powers, but they thought they came exclusively from outside sources, they had no idea that their abilities were also strengthened and influenced by being highly contaminated by ectoplasm, which is why when one day Mikey sneezes and green acid shoots out of his nose and melts his desk, everyone is a little bit startled

the teachers have long since started using ghost detectors after the time Paulina spent a whole week overshadowed by Kitty, so Mikey gets a check over and other than the usual atmospheric reading Lancer gets nothing especially strong from him

there have been concerns about the gradually increasing ectoplasmic content in the air messing with ghost detector results, the devices have to be recalibrated constantly, so Lancer asks the one and only son of the local ghost hunters in the room if he has some other way to check

Danny's parents make him keep a few protective items in his schoolbag, so he tries some gear on him to see if anything comes flying out, but nothing does, Danny isn't too surprised seeing as he couldn't sense a ghost in the room anyway, but it definitely makes things a little concerning

even if it were a repeat of the Spectra incident and he wasn't being overshadowed, the Fenton's tech would have still gotten rid of whatever was causing this if it were an external influence

Mikey is sent home for the day and his parents are told to keep an eye on him

and then the next week, Star drops a pen off her desk and a strand of her hair whips out to grab it, she's also checked for ghost influence and sent home

a few weeks after that it happens again, a kid on the basketball team makes a leap to the net and stays in the air, they have to call in the cheerleaders to climb on top of each other to reach him and pull him down

Danny has been trying to figure out what's happening from the first moment with Mikey, and his parents have also been getting calls from worried parents who want to know if they can fix whatever's happening to their kids

over the next couple of months, every kid in the school has some kind of ability or mutation, Dash heals whoever he touches, which he discovers after punching Nathan in the face and curing his acne, Paulina turns invisible, which freaks her out at first until she realises it's great for eavesdropping, Wes can conjure fire (because I desperately needed him to have a polarising ability to Danny), Kwan becomes empathic and can feel and influence people's emotions

Valerie also had an early mutation that she didn't know about, when Technus gave her a new suit, her body pretty much just absorbed it as a part of her, Technus had not intended this to happen, and was pretty peeved about it, Valerie found out that she had stolen control over the suit when Technus had a big rant about it during a fight, and she put the pieces together once other kids started developing abilities

this whole thing causes a ton of chaos as kids are struggling to control what they can do, so Danny has to step in and help them out, he often has to run off to change into Phantom in order to protect everyone from an ability that's gone haywire, he ends up pretty much running ghost power training courses after school to help them control themselves

he's also gotten stuck in situations where he's had to step in and help someone without having the time to change forms, meaning he has to make up a cover story about having developed his own powers way before everyone else since he's been living on top of a portal for years, he only tells people about his ice powers

Jazz has always had a tendency to be able to reign in her emotions and keep a cool head, (the only ones who can really push her buttons are Danny and sometimes her parents, at school around other kids who look up to her she's often very in control) meaning she doesn't draw ectoplasm to herself all that much, and though Danny uses the excuse of having lived on top of a ghost portal to explain why he's already so familiar with using his power, it's actually not even remotely true, because the Fentons use specialised air purifiers to keep the atmospheric ectoplasm at a manageable level, the Fenton house ironically has the least atmospheric contamination compared to the rest of the town, that's how Maddie and Jack have had limited mutation to themselves (though they aren't wholly free, they've mostly just gotten physically stronger and tougher)

so even though Jazz develops her power a little earlier than everyone else's, it's not that far ahead, and she actually doesn't even realise she already has one until half the school has developed theirs

Jazz has the power to slow time in a little bubble around herself, she'd been using it without realising while studying, having gotten through hours of work in half that time, she always thought it was just her losing track of time or she was just getting faster at reading, she also spends a lot of time counselling other students and trying to help them sort out their problems, and they'd often comment that they felt like they'd been talking for so much longer than they had, again she just chalked it up to losing track of time

a lot of students had wondered why Danny developed a power early and Jazz hadn't, until someone walked in on Jazz helping a girl through a panic attack in the bathroom, and found them both talking extremely fast, a lot of her friends realised in hindsight that she'd been doing that unwittingly for quite a while, nobody had noticed because she always talked to people privately, so nobody outside her little time bubble had seen it happen

Sam and Tucker come clean about their abilities too, but they also don't give the full rundown, still keeping some things close to the chest to avoid standing out from everyone else

then there's the teachers

adults typically have a better time regulating emotions than teenagers, meaning much like Jazz they aren't drawing as much ectoplasm toward themselves, but this doesn't exempt them from developing something after a while, especially with the heightened stress of managing a school full of volatile super kids

Mr Lancer discovers that he can create shields, after an incident where he jumps in front of some students to protect them from another power gone awry

Tetslaff ends up with a sonic ability, able to project her voice like a megaphone (yes this is a Coach Boomer from Sky High reference don't @ me), Principal Ishiyama develops a physical mutation, growing to twice her size, she likes that she can tower over the students while delivering speeches, but she doesn't like having to stoop through doors all the time, she has the one to her office resized, along with her chair and desk

so as you can imagine, the town ends up erupting into chaos, a lot of kids very much misuse their abilities, Danny does his best as Phantom to teach people to be responsible, but sometimes he has to resort to literally kicking their asses to get them to straighten up

but for the most part, a ton of kids were already looking up to him, and are generally pretty happy to follow his example, especially the more popular kids, it's generally considered not very cool to get your ass kicked by Phantom, so weirdly enough a lot of kids get peer pressured into not causing any real damage or injury with their powers

this doesn't mean they don't absolutely misuse them, they're just more subtle about it

until a ghost shows up, a lot of the kids are more than happy to let loose to protect themselves and their friends, and Phantom for the most part is happy to let them, with some supervision of course, he still has to make sure nobody gets too hurt (including the ghosts)

the entire debacle makes Danny's life simultaneously a whole lot easier AND so much more fucking stressful