#another muse?? in THIS economy ??

[wcshedup]

DEEP SIGH

I wanna make a blog for alastor’s mom.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Having a secret relationship wasn't as easy as you'd hoped it would be, especially when Eddie wasn't keen on keeping it a secret at all. (7.1k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, Reader wears a sun dress, making out, heavy petting, public displays of affection, sexual fantasies, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

A/N: had to include Eddie's favorite fruit in here. Shoutout to @eddiemunsonsmum for writing the best solo Eddie fics out there.

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter twelve: breath of fresh air

May teetered on the edge of June, the steadily climbing temperatures and the pungent odor of garbage signaling the beginning of another New York City summer. 

You awoke just after noon, sunlight pouring through the windows. Whispers of a headache nagged in your skull; not quite a hangover, but scarily close to one. Another drink definitely would have put you over. 

With a tired grimace, you shoved the covers aside and started your day. A day just like any other, except that you were still reeling from the fact that Eddie kissed you last night. That precious moment of connection was bested only by the sound of your name murmured from his lips onto yours.

The memory put a smile on your face as you dressed in your standard shorts and t-shirt. You wanted to kiss him over and over, to run your fingers through his mess of curls and hold him close, not parting until you both needed a breath. 

You could still taste the stain of nicotine when you swiped your tongue over your lips. Could still hear his breathy moan in your ear like a harmony. Could still feel his belt buckle pressed to your skin, the metal cold yet somehow filling you with a blazing heat.

Stripping the linens off of the bed, you lost yourself in thoughts of how it would feel to have Eddie laying beside you, his body pressing yours into the mattress, hands framing your body as he sank deeper into you—

You needed fresh air. Immediately. 

You tucked the pale pink sheets under your arm, time-faded from their original rosy hue to a salmon color, and zigzagged to the recently vacated rooms. The change of scenery did nothing to quell the desire stirring within you. Your mind was wrought with images of Eddie trailing his lips down your throat, or his teeth nipping at your collarbone, or his fingers slipping into your underwear—

“Stop it,” you hissed under your breath. The next stop was Eddie’s room, and you’d be damned if he had any inkling of the feelings you were harboring. 

His door swung open before you could even knock, halting you in your tracks. “Heard your footsteps down the hall,” he admitted, sheepishness coloring his cheeks pink. 

You only nodded as you caught your breath and your heart floated down from your throat into your chest. Thank God he couldn’t read your thoughts. “Got your pants?”

“Right here.” He held them up, balled in his fist. “Lead the way.”

“I can, um,” you searched for your words, still scrambled from your earlier musings. “I can wash them myself.” You were already throwing in the rest of the laundry; a pair of jeans wouldn’t make much of a difference.

Eddie shook his head, curls bouncing from his temples. “Nah, ‘s cool.” He plucked the bundle of linens from you. “Hasn’t been a lot to fix around here lately, so I might as well do some housekeeping.”

You threw him a playful grin as you led him to the laundry room. “No moochers allowed in my motel, y’know.”

The overhead lighting bathed him in a yellowish haze, matching the once-white walls. Maybe that could be his next project. 

“Exactly.” Eddie opened up a few cabinets, frowning when he couldn’t find what he’d been searching for. “Detergent?”

You pointed towards the cabinet below the sink. “Over there.”

Eddie saluted and stooped down to tug the economy-sized detergent tub from its spot. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring when his boxers peeked out from beneath the waistband of his jeans. Those damn Calvin Kleins; they would be your kryptonite.

“Heiress?”

Shit. He’d been talking to you, and all you could focus on was his underwear. “Yeah?”

“Do you have that stuff that makes the clothes smell really good?” He scooped out the detergent powder and sprinkled it in the washing machine. 

You laughed. “Sorry, no daisy-fresh pants for you.” 

The ensuing beat of silence seemed to stretch on for hours. Words bubbled on your tongue, desperate to continue talking to him. To discreetly sneak glances of the veins that intercepted his arm tattoos or of the sparse hair that adorned where his V-neck undershirt left his chest exposed. 

“Do anything fun today?” Christ, were you talking to a toddler? Should you offer him a sticker or a lollipop?

But Eddie perked up at the question. “Yeah, actually. I called my uncle for the first time in…” he scrunched up his mouth in contemplation. “Too damn long.” 

“How did that go?”

He set the dial to “start,” the washing machine humming to life. “Pretty good.” He hoisted himself on top of the adjacent dryer. “Same old Wayne. The world might change, but he never will.” Eddie’s eyes met yours. “When I started making money, I offered to buy him a house. Get him out of the trailer park and into a safer neighborhood. And he refused.”

Your brows raised. “He did?”

Eddie nodded, chuckling at the memory. “Said that if he left, there wouldn’t be anyone to feed the stray dogs.” He cocked his head, concentrating on your face. “You two would get along well. Similar personalities.”

“Thoughtful?”

“Yes, but to the point of stubbornness.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but Eddie cut you off. “Don’t even argue with me, Miss Social Worker by Day, Heiress by Night.” His feet swayed back and forth, tapping against the metal every so often. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the box of crayons that you keep in the desk for kids like Izzy.”

He might have had a point, but if you were going down, you’d go down swinging. “If I recall, one of us chose to sleep at a bus stop instead of accepting my gracious offer.”

“But I took you up on it eventually.”

“Only because I practically forced you,” you argued. 

“Exactly.” Eddie grinned. “Thoughtful to the point of stubbornness.” 

A stillness filled the small room, and you wondered if he had the same agenda as you: keep the conversation flowing without bringing up the date. Without bringing up the kiss; the one that seared through you and set your bones aflame. That kiss sent you to bed aching for more, mentally mapping out any way you could sneak into his room without your parents noticing. 

Eddie broke the silence. “I meant to ask…did you have a good time last night?” He scratched at the nape of his neck, the gesture betraying any air of casualness. 

“Yeah.” You smiled, trying to ignore the fluttering in your abdomen. Your skin warmed at the memory of his touch. “I mean, I got to hear you sing, and I reunited our drunk friend with her boyfriend. I don’t see how it could get better than that.” 

He laughed at that and ducked his head. “Those were the highlights?” His eyes met yours; that knowing gaze seared through you and sent your nerves humming. “Nothing else?”

“There was…another highlight.” Longing anchored the words deep in your throat, but you forced them up. You let them seep in, placing the ball squarely in his court. 

“Yeah?”

Eddie inched back onto the dryer, the shift opening a gap between his legs. A space for you to fill. Your feet carried you as though they had a mind of their own, your body slotting against his. 

“Tell me about this other highlight.” One hand reached out to yours and tugged you closer; he laid the other on your cheek. His thumb slowly swiped over your jaw as though he was memorizing its contour. 

“Well,” you started, letting your fingers rest on his denim-clad thighs, “I really liked when we kissed.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up when you supplied the answer he’d been hoping for. “That makes two of us.” He let his forefinger trail down to your collarbone, the slight movement saturated with equal parts awe and desire. “I think we should do it again sometime.”

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you asked, “when?”

“Right…” He grinned, and before you could double-check that you’d closed the door, his lips crashed into yours. You felt his tongue cautiously prod at the seam, seeking entry, and you allowed it. The scents of cigarettes and spearmint gum accompanied his tongue in a way that was so uniquely him. 

Eddie only broke the kiss to bring his lips to your neck. He was gentle at first, peppering delicate kisses down the column of your throat, but he lost all control the moment you tilted your head and gave him clear access to your pulse point. 

The hand on your cheek fell to your waist and pulled you close enough to feel Eddie’s heartbeat against your own chest. “This your favorite spot to be kissed?” He murmured into your skin. You felt him smile when you nodded in response. “Where else do you want me to kiss you?”

Was ‘everywhere’ a valid response? A soft sigh loosened itself and escaped you at the feeling of his teeth grazing your flesh. “Just my neck. For now,” you added, “but I like when…when you bite it, too.”

“I can do that.” Eddie’s voice rasped. He bit down again, swiping his tongue over the mark to soothe your bruising skin.

You gripped his t-shirt, resisting every urge to pull it up over his head. It wouldn’t be the first time you saw him bare-chested; that honor had been bestowed upon you the night he arrived. But now you could kiss it, trace the lines of his tattoos with your finger, with your tongue…

You needed it. You needed to memorize him, to learn every square inch of his body.

His shirt hit the ground and your lips immediately found his shoulders. Eddie’s arms snaked around you, keeping you in place as your tongue explored the contoured muscle. 

“More,” he pleaded. “Fuck, keep kissing me there.”

Heat blossomed in your core. Your lips traveled, placing some marks of your own just below his collarbone, where they could be easily hidden. His skin was already tinged bluish-purple where you’d sucked and nibbled, proof that you had been there.

Eddie had pushed your own shirt right below your bra when the washing machine rattled, a stark reminder of where you were. Your chest and his rose and fell in syncopated beats. He loosened his grasp, letting your shirt fall back down your torso.

“Christ.” He chuckled, a low growl in his laughter. “I’m gonna need a second. You…Christ, Heiress.” 

Your eyes traveled to where he instinctively palmed the bulge straining against his jeans. You wanted to be the one to touch it, to relieve him of his pent-up frustrations. Maybe you’d even get some relief of your own. But your gradually slowing heart rate informed you that the moment had passed. 

“I, um…I didn’t just follow you in here to maul you like some horndog.” Eddie hopped off of the washer. He swiped his shirt from the floor and slid it over his head, once again cloaking his tattoos. 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Hey.” Eddie bumped his elbow against your arm. His smile was uncharacteristically shy, which only made him more endearing. “My other reason for following you in here was because I wanted to see if you were free sometime this week.”

His hand brushed against yours. You let your fingers intertwine with his, soft and gentle in their touch. Your thumb grazed over one of the paler spots where he must’ve worn a ring. The coloring was beginning to match the rest of his finger as though the memory of the rings was fading away with time. 

“Yeah. I mean, I’m around during the day.”

Eddie hooked his free pointer finger through your belt loop. “Cool.” He cocked his head. “Do people really have romantic picnics in Central Park? Or is that just in the movies?”

You laughed, leaning in and lightly kissing his jaw. Everything about him was so tempting. If there was a way to sneak him into your room without either of your parents noticing, you’d do it in a heartbeat. 

“They do, but…” You shrugged. “Central Park is super overrated. In my opinion, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Another kiss, right below his ear this time. You could feel his body tense with each lingering touch. “Flushing Meadows is the superior park. Less crowded, shorter travel time, and you don’t have to worry about running into any Upper East Side snobs.”

Eddie tilted your chin so that you felt his lips on yours when he spoke. “Fuck those rich assholes.” The words were muffled and ended with him nipping at your lower lip; the slight pinch of pain from his teeth were sparks that set you alight. 

Your hands framed his face as you kissed him, his grasp tight on your lower back. A wanting groan vibrated in his throat when he felt your body against his. 

“Heiress.” Your nickname was molasses on his tongue, sweet and slow and syrupy. “Y’gotta let me take you on at least one more date before we do this. I’m tryna be a goddamn gentleman.”

He was right, even if his body seemed to protest. You needed to stop before you caused him physical pain. Needed to stop before you lost all semblance of control. Your first time with Eddie didn’t have to be caviar and champagne—and it likely would not be, given how broke you both were—but the occasion deserved to happen somewhere more private and more comfortable than the motel’s laundry room. 

Eddie breathed out consciously, trying to collect himself. “Does Thursday work for you?”

You blinked, batting away the fogginess left behind by his touch. “Thursday would be perfect.”

“Perfect,” Eddie echoed. A cautious, nervous smile curved his lips. He paused for a half-second before leaning in once more and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Its gentleness scorched your skin, flames licking in its wake.

The kiss rooted you to the ground for a second too long, and Eddie was already turning the doorknob before you could listen for any incoming foot traffic.

“Wait, we–”

His eyes widened when the opened door revealed Phyllis heading back to her room. “Didn’t realize laundry was a two person job,” she quipped, revealing a smile of cigarette-stained teeth. “Although…it takes two people to get the sheets dirty…”

“That’s not–we weren’t–” you sputtered helplessly, knowing that there was nothing you could say that would make the situation any better.

“Well, it’s either you two were messing around in there, or he stuck his finger in an electrical socket.” Phyllis gestured to Eddie’s hair, mussed and sticking up from where you’d thread your fingers through it. 

Eddie choked out a laugh, red creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks. Even the tips of his ears turned a delicious shade of pink. “The washer was making a, um, a noise. But it’s fixed now.”

Phyllis’s forehead creased as her brows raised, not believing a word he said. “The noises I heard didn’t sound like machinery. They sounded more like—”

“Phyllis,” you hissed, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t overly palpable. 

The older woman took your hint and pivoted towards her room, seemingly satisfied with the buttons she’d already pushed. Though she likely hadn’t done it purposely, her comment about the noises served as a warning: If she heard them, your parents could have, too. 

You needed to be more careful. In order for this burgeoning relationship to have a chance at survival, you needed to keep it a secret. Phyllis knew, but her worst offense would be quiet ribbings. Not everyone would remain so tight-lipped. 

“Thursday…let’s meet at the bus stop.” There was the chance of someone seeing you together there, but at least it was less suspicious than Eddie knocking on your door. 

Confusion rippled across Eddie’s face for a beat before he composed himself. “Yeah. Sounds good.” 

Good. A definite few steps down from his earlier declaration of perfect. Your heart sank, joining the lead ball of anxiety currently sitting in your stomach. 

He’ll understand, you told yourself. He knew how it felt to have all sorts of external pressure pushing down on him; a weight too great to fight. It would all be fine. 

Yet you couldn’t convince yourself that that was the truth, nor could you bring yourself to look back at him as you rushed to the front desk. You were suddenly eager for a chore or two to keep your thoughts at bay. 

Amy’s Café was quieter than its usual bustling pace during the semester, and you easily snagged a table for three. It seemed like a blessing at the time, but now…

“Hold on,” Nora said through a bite of croissant. She held up her forefinger, signaling you and Ben to stay quiet until she finished chewing. “So you and Eddie were making out in the laundry room—”

“Don’t forget the part where she took off his shirt,” Ben added. 

Nora nodded, brushing crumbs off of her hands. “Basically feeling each other up. And then Phyllis caught you, and he pretended that he was fixing the washing machine?” She laughed incredulously.

Ben put down his mug and shook his head. “It’s a good thing you didn’t get carried away. Imagine conceiving your child in the motel laundry room, ten feet away from your parents at the resident prostitute.”

“Oh, my god.” You buried your face in your hands. “We’ve gone on one date and you’re already talking about me having his baby?”

“People have made babies without going on any dates,” Ben pointed out. Nora just snickered. 

“I hate you both.” You glanced between the two of them. It was hard to believe they’d met for the first time today. The way they effortlessly teased you in tandem was impressive for people who were basically strangers. “Can we please change the subject?”

Nora leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Not a chance. In fact,” she looked at Ben and then back to you, “we need to know more. Like, what are you wearing for this second date?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off as nonchalant, though you’d been wondering the same thing. “I dunno. It’s a picnic, so nothing fancy, I guess.” 

Your friends found that answer insufficient, both of them rolling their eyes in tandem. Ben took a bite of blueberry muffin and said nothing, but Nora plunged right ahead.

“Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

Nora sighed. “You never let yourself enjoy things. You should be happy about this. A hot guy is staying at your motel and can’t keep his hands off of you, and you’re all Mopey Magee about it.”

“I’m not Mopey Magee,” you mumbled, but she was right. Every time excitement began bubbling up, you shoved it back down. Every time your mind wandered, dipping into thoughts about a cozy future spent with Eddie, you yanked yourself back. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be happy; you just needed to stay realistic. Eddie wanted to be a rockstar, always on the go and living on the edge. You wanted to be a social worker, to come home and curl up with a good book. You’d be tucking yourself into bed as Eddie’s night was just beginning, and you’d wake up in the morning just as he was going to sleep. 

Not to mention the women, especially Death Echo’s badass drummer. And it didn’t help that she was Eddie’s ex. No matter how far you let your imagination stretch, you would never be her.

“Hey.” Ben rested his hand on yours, his eyes kind and free of judgment. “We just want you to be excited. Eddie seems like a…decent guy.” Clearly, he wasn’t fully convinced after the fiasco of their first meeting, though he’d thawed out a bit since Eddie helped clean the vandalism.

Nora nudged him from her seat. “He’s more than decent. He took a cab all the way to school to bring her paper. He sang a lovey-dovey karaoke song for her. And he had enough respect to not completely maul her in the laundry room.” She looked at you and asked pointedly, “Tell us the truth: would you have fucked him if he didn’t stop you?”

“Nora!” Your entire body flooded with heat. It was all the confirmation Nora needed. 

“See? He’s a good guy,” she declared. Case closed. “I bet he wants to, like, decorate the bed with rose petals and all of that corny shit.”

“He’ll probably play his guitar and serenade you.” Ben relented with a smirk. “Naked.”

You stood up, the back of your legs pushing your chair behind you. “Okay, thank you both very much for your insight, but I’m gonna go.” 

You refused to admit that you were currently picturing Eddie as Ben had portrayed him. His guitar would rest on his bare thighs, his chest on full display. That beautiful body that drew your lips to each inch of skin, no matter if tattooed or unmarked. 

“You know you love us,” Nora trilled. 

And you did. They only wanted what was best for you. Yes, you would love to lose yourself in daydreams of Eddie Munson, his strong arms wrapped around you, his tongue hungrily exploring your body. Yes, your stomach fluttered each time he smiled at you, called you beautiful, or took your hand in his. But was that worth lying to your parents about yet another part of your life?

The question branded you with a headache, one that sat right behind your eyes and thudded against your skull with each step back home. You did everything you could to focus on the pain instead of its cause.

By now, you were well-acquainted with Eddie’s schedule, which meant you were able to meet him outside the subway station before he returned to the motel. You’d had a moment of panic that morning just as you drifted off to sleep: your parents would immediately be suspicious if they saw the two of you leaving together, especially in your current outfit. Nora had dropped off a floral sundress, the tag still on it, and quietly proclaimed that Eddie wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you in it. It wasn’t until later that you noticed the back of the tag where she’d scrawled ‘happy boning!’ in tiny letters.

There certainly wouldn’t be any boning; not in the middle of the park. That was too far out of your comfortable zone, even if you weren’t trying to hide your relationship.

“I’m hanging out with Nora,” you told Dad before he even looked up from reading the newspaper. “Be back later.”

Your sandals thwacked against the pavement as you hurried out the door, not even pausing to hear if Dad had responded.

You nearly collided with Eddie halfway down the block. He held his guitar case in one hand and a plastic grocery bag in the other. His focused expression shifted to one of excitement when he saw you. 

“Didn’t expect to bump into you here.” He lifted the guitar slightly. “Let me just put this back in my room so I’m not lugging it all over Queens.”

Eddie started back towards the motel, pausing when he realized you weren’t following him. 

“You comin’?”

You shook your head. Dad might not have noticed you leaving in your new dress, but he would definitely notice you going back and forth with Eddie Munson in tow. 

“I’ll wait right here.” You tried peeking into the bag as he walked away, but he tugged it back and out of your sight. “What’s in there?”

His eyes lit up. “Patience is a virtue, dear Heiress,” he drawled. He leaned in to plant a dramatic kiss on your forehead before rushing towards the motel’s front door. 

The spot where he’d laid his lips still tingled for a moment after he left. If you could work up the nerve, if your head and your heart could cooperate, you would pull him in for the longest kiss of his life. But doubt creeped in before even he returned. If someone saw you…if Mom or Dad took a look around the door to see where Eddie was going…if a guest got an eyeful and made a comment about it to them…

“Okay, I’m back.” Eddie grinned, grabbing your hand with his empty one. “Your dad tried to pull me into a conversation about the Mets. I had to break the devastating news that I’m not a sports guy.” He laughed and adjusted his hand to better grasp yours. 

You barely registered the movement. “Did you tell him where you—we—were going?” If Eddie told Dad about the date…

Eddie shook his head. “Nah, just said I had to run.” His nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why? Are we not supposed to be going to the park or something?”

How could you explain it to him without hurting his feelings? ‘We can’t be seen together’ might be true, but far too harsh. Nor did you want to embroil yourself in another lie. You mulled over your words for a few seconds before speaking. 

“I just don’t want them asking a bunch of questions that even we don’t know the answers to.”

That was honest enough, you supposed. This was only your second date; far too early for any serious ‘what are your intentions with my daughter?’ speeches even under normal circumstances. The fact that Mom had explicitly warned you against dating guests would remain omitted for now.

He nodded in agreement, and your chest sagged with relief that he didn’t push the topic further. Instead, you enveloped yourself in the temporary safety that came with holding Eddie’s hand. The way his calloused palm pressed to yours, his grip tight yet without unwarranted possessiveness. Each brush of his thumb stoked the fire steadily building within you.

You once again tried to steal a glimpse of the surprise inside the bag once you found seats on the bus, but Eddie remained steadfast in his decision to keep it out of your view.

“It’s a surprise,” he practically whined, pouting to make you laugh. “C’mon, I’m trying to be romantic on a budget. Cut me a break here.”

“Fine.” But the moment he let his guard down, you swiped at the bag. Eddie was stealthier than you gave him credit for, and he held it shut between his legs. “Eddie!”

Eddie placed his hands on your cheeks, trapping you in place. “Don’t…ruin…the…surprise.” He kissed you between each word, little pecks on the lips that became increasingly more difficult to land as you both smiled. “You really are impossible.”

You begrudgingly relented, resting your head on his shoulder for the remainder of the bus ride. He shifted his stance every so often to purse his lips and kiss your forehead. You let out a contented sigh, the tension in your body fleeing with each gentle touch.

Flushing Meadows Park was relatively quiet when you and Eddie arrive. Kids were still in school until the end of the month, and nine-to-fivers were still at work. Besides you two, there were only an assortment of joggers, a few bird-watching retirees, and some particularly rowdy squirrels 

Eddie led you to a shaded spot beneath the branches of an old oak tree. He dug into his bag and pulled out a cloth, spreading it out on the overgrown grass. The fabric and color looked awfully familiar. It was almost as if…

“Is that your bedsheet?”

Eddie grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t let you sit right on the grass. Besides,” he added, tone heavy with mischief, “it gives us another excuse to do laundry together.”

“We’re lucky we didn’t get caught the first time,” you muttered. But you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be pressed up against him, to feel him stiffen beneath his jeans as his tongue explored your mouth. 

He laughed as you both sat down, a melody if you’d ever heard one. He continued unpacking, placing foil-wrapped sandwiches, a small plastic container of pre-cut melon, and a bag of store-brand chocolate chip cookies onto the sheet. The last thing he dug out was two glass bottles of Yoo-Hoo chocolate milk, handing it directly to you. It was still relatively cold, a miracle in the early summer humidity. 

“Only the finest cuisine for my date.” He unscrewed the bottle cap and waited for you to do the same. He raised the bottle, clinking it against yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you echoed, taking a swig. You hadn’t had chocolate milk since you were a kid, and it was all at once nostalgic and too sugary, but you couldn’t get enough.

Eddie’s eyes rake over you, pupils fixated on the neckline of your sundress. His tongue darted out to lick up a droplet of milk that was caught in the corner of his mouth. “You look beautiful. You are beautiful,” he amended. One hand found your knee, and he rested it where the dress’s cotton fabric met your skin.

It had been a while since a man had called you beautiful, save for the cat-callers who pressed their luck from where they leaned against buildings and worked at construction sites. The compliment sent warmth surging through you, your head so airy that you hardly register the smile blooming on your face.

How would he react if you just leaned in and kissed him, mouths crashing together in a hunger that would remain forever unsatisfied? What would he do if you straddled his waist and let the hem of your dress cover the fly of his jeans?

You swallowed the thought, tempering the heat that fluttered in your core as you unwrapped one of the sandwiches. The cheese had cooled but was still melted, and a few strips of bacon peeked out from the sides of the roll. Your mouth watered just looking at it.

Eddie tucked into his own identical sandwich, a groan tumbling from his lips as he savored the taste. “I will never understand how those tiny corner stores make the best food. Like, better than all of those fancy-ass restaurants I went to for dinners with execs.”

“Those ‘corner stores’ are called ‘bodegas,’” you corrected through a cheesy mouthful. “If you’re gonna stick around, you’ve gotta start talking like a New Yorker.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie raised his brows, one corner of his mouth turning up in a knowing grin. “I gotta start tawk-ing like a New Yawk-er?”

“I don’t sound like that!”

He ignored you, continuing to massacre the stereotypical New York City accent. “Maybe on our next date, we can grab some caw-fee and go for a waw-k around the pah-k.”

“First of all, you pronounced ‘park’ like a Bostonian, which is a cardinal sin around here. Second, there won’t be another date if you keep making fun of me.”

“My apologies, Heiress.” Eddie placed his hand on his chest, and you immediately felt its absence from your leg. “I’ll be sure to more accurately mock you in the future.”

He was insufferable in the most endearing way. You took his hand, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles, and brought it back to where it was. He gave your thigh a small squeeze; not inherently sexual, but made your pulse quicken all the same.

You retrieved your breath from where it had hitched in your throat and opened the plastic container of melon. With delicate fingers as to not touch every piece, you plucked a cantaloupe cube from the pile and took a bite. The juice trickled down your chin; you cupped your hand beneath it to catch the droplets before they stained the bed sheet.

Eddie, meanwhile, kept his gaze plastered to how your lips wrapped around the fruit. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly and he coughed as though snapping himself out of a daze. 

“You okay?” 

“Y-Yeah.” He managed a smile and popped a piece of melon in his mouth, chewing if only to keep himself busy until he could concentrate on something besides your parted lips. “Peachy keen.” With another slight twitch of his mouth, let out a cough. 

It dawned on you, then, that he was losing control, and that you were the cause. If you indulged him in his desire–desire that you admittedly shared–you’d soon find yourselves pawing at each other on an old bed sheet in the middle of a public park.

You couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t let desperation get the best of you. You knew better.

Instead, you surveyed your surroundings for any other conversation topic. Grass, blooming flowers, the ants parading towards a puddle of spilled soda.

You took another swig of chocolate milk, hoping it would cool you from the inside out. “Yoo-Hoo was an interesting drink choice.” The words were strangled, forced, too abrupt. 

Eddie knew it, too, but he played along. Perhaps more for his sake than yours, but he still loosened a chuckle. “Yeah, I saw them at the cor—bodega, and it reminded me of when I was a kid.” Fiddling with the discarded sandwich wrapper, he continued. “My uncle would buy one on every payday. A Yoo-Hoo for me and a lotto scratcher for himself.”

“Did you get more Yoo-Hoo if he won anything?”

“Nah.” He crumpled the sandwich foil into a ball. “That went towards bills.”

Right. Eddie had told you that he grew up in poverty, sharing a tiny trailer with his uncle. Any extra money wasn’t really extra at all. 

You knew the feeling. How many times had you found loose change on the ground or a dropped dollar at the subway token booth and slipped it into the motel’s register?

“How did he feel about you pursuing music?” You were back on the right track, retreating into topics as far away from sex as possible.

Eddie shrugged, his shoulders holding a story that he wasn’t ready to tell. “He wasn’t thrilled. Wanted me to have something steady, something I could count on.” So I didn’t end up bartering to stay in a shitty Queens motel remained unspoken. “But he was the one who bought me my first guitar, so it’s partially his fault.”

There was that smirk, the one that turned your knees into jelly. God, to be on your knees for him, to taste what lay behind that godforsaken zipper–

You scrambled to patch up the cracks that might allow desperation to seep through. “Did you always want to be a musician?” 

“Pretty much. I mean, when I was really young, I wanted to be a dinosaur.”

You burst out into laughter, slapping your hand across your mouth to contain it all. Out of all of the things he could have said, ‘I wanted to be a dinosaur’ was nowhere near your list of possibilities. “A…dinosaur?”

“Yup. A triceratops, to be exact.” 

“Mhm.” What was going on? How did we get here? You chalked it up to being a blessing in disguise, a definite pivot from your racy thoughts. “Any particular reason?”

Did you want to know?

“The horns seemed cool. And good for impaling.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth and stifled a laugh, trying to keep a serious face. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.”

“Yeah, I was real bummed when I found out they were already extinct.” He pursed his lips and tilted his head towards you, breaking out into a smile. “So, any updates on social work school?”

You almost shook your head before you remembered. “There’s this event they’re doing where admitted students get to tour the campus, meet each other, talk to advisors...”

“You gonna go?”

“I probably should.” It would be a great opportunity for you to get your bearings and register for classes. “Are you busy next Friday?”

“Next Friday? Let me check my schedule.” Eddie feigned contemplation for a beat, then looked at you with a smile that flipped your stomach. “Free as a bird. Why, does the Heiress need to be accompanied to her Smart People Gathering?”

You stuck out your tongue in mock annoyance. Eddie grabbed it by the tip, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re a brat.”

His eyes bore into yours, holding your gaze even as he let go. He’d set the challenge: You make him beg to tag along, or you back down and admit that you wanted him to join you.

You chose the former.

“I mean, I can take Nora if you’re busy. Or Ben.” 

Jealousy flashed across Eddie’s face at your flippant reply. Did you have to add Ben? Probably not. Was it fun to watch Eddie squirm? Absolutely.

“I’ll take you.” He didn’t need to say it; not when his brief scowl already proclaimed that you won. 

Grinning, you kissed his cheek triumphantly. “Great.” You wiped at where your lipstick had left a smudge. “But the next time you grab my tongue, I’ll bite you.”

Without missing a beat, he growled, “Maybe I want you to.” 

You couldn’t temper your reaction, not with his voice reaching a bass note that signaled that his desire was just as strong as yours. Without warning, you anchored yourself in his lap, legs on either side of his, and let your teeth graze the skin above his collarbone. You bit down just enough to make him utter a tiny yelp. 

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass as he pulled you forward, your core now directly atop his. Instinct kicked in and your hips moved of their own accord, your cotton panties dragging over his fly, already wet just from your proximity to him.

Teeth clicked and tongues found one another, the kiss somehow sloppier and more ravenous than the tipsy one you’d shared a few nights earlier. You grabbed hold of his t-shirt, the fabric bunching in your shaking palms as you brought him closer, closer, still never close enough…

Eddie nipped at your lower lip, one palm sliding up to cup your cheek. His touch teetered between a timid ‘you’re mine?’ and a possessive ‘you’re mine,’ opposing sides in a battle to claim and be claimed. His own hips hedged upwards, the friction equal parts tantalizing and torturous.

God, you wanted him. You wanted him to flip you over and pin you down, hands grasping your wrists hard enough to leave a bruise. You wanted to remember that he was there, that he was on you, with you. You wanted to stare at those marks from the privacy of your own room and recount how he’d taken you in public. 

And then you heard it–your name. Not ‘Heiress,’ nor did it come from Eddie’s kiss-swollen lips. The voice was feminine and familiar.

You broke the kiss, your blood running ice cold as you swiveled around to see Aunt Tam and Uncle Mo standing before you. Aunt Tam’s brows were raised in a combination of disappointment and disbelief; Uncle Mo’s cheeks were splotched pink in pure embarrassment–a feeling you knew all too well.

You froze, your fingers now tangled in Eddie’s frizzy curls as reality sunk in, squashing down most of the lust connecting you to him. You’d been spotted dry humping Eddie in the middle of the park by your parents’ best friends. People who’d known you since you were born.

Too quickly, you removed yourself from Eddie’s lap and smoothed out the hem of your sundress, as though your aunt and uncle would forget what they’d just witnessed if it wasn’t happening anymore. 

This was bad. Worse than bad; this was humiliating. You wanted to beg them not to tell your parents, a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar, but the words clung to your throat. Instead, and much more shamefully, tears ran down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, we just–we got carried away, we shouldn’t have–I’m so sorry, please don’t say anything to my parents–”

Damn it. Damn it all to hell. Why couldn’t you just keep yourself in control? 

Aunt Tam cleared her throat, shaking herself from surprise. “No, I’m sorry for interrupting. I just wasn’t expecting to see, um, that.” The coloring of her cheeks now matched her husband’s as they hurried away, unable to leave fast enough. “Enjoy your picnic. Good to, uh, see you both.”

Everything was suddenly too much. The sun was too bright, the birds were chirping too loudly, the grass beneath the sheet was too sharp. 

You scrambled to clean up the remaining food, all of which now looked as appetizing as a pile of mud. You couldn’t even look at Eddie when you spoke. “We should go home.”

“Heiress, it’s fine. Calm down–”

“I can’t calm down!” Too snappy, too harsh, but you no longer had the capacity to care. “My parents will kill me if they find out we were together.”

Confusion knitted Eddie’s brows together. “You’re a grown adult. And it’s not like we were naked and getting arrested for public indecency.”

His lack of understanding only strengthened your frustration. “No, I–it’s just not a good look for me to be fooling around with a guest.”

There was no mistaking the hurt in Eddie’s scoff. “I mean, we’re on a date…and we’re kinda a…a thing, right?” He chewed on his lower lip, and you felt a wall come up, that same barrier he’d erected when you’d all but accused him of vandalizing Eisen’s. “I didn’t realize I was just a guest.”

“Yeah, no–I mean, we are a thing,” you rushed to explain, “and you’re not just a guest to me, but you technically are still a guest.” 

“Right.” Eddie stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I get it. Yeah. I just thought…never mind.” He blew out a breath and stooped down to help you clean up.

You forced yourself to speak again, terrified that you’d shatter this already fragile moment. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice so low that you weren’t sure he’d even hear it.

“S’okay.”

But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t okay even when he reached back and laced his fingers with yours. It was no longer an act of affection, but one of needed reassurance. And it didn’t fix the gaping chasm; you weren’t sure how to fix it, or if it could be fixed at all.

It was a Band-Aid on a bullet wound, and time was ticking until it bled out.

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98

@squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia

@kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock

@ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975

@yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts

@mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank

@sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles

@the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl

@fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[calliesmemes]

YET ANOTHER ROUNDUP OF ASOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to be a bit silly <333

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

❛ I am not merely a clown; I’m the entire damn circus! ❜

❛ I will bite you if you continue this behavior. ❜

❛ Being a dramatic ass bitch isn’t a personality trait; it’s a lifestyle! ❜

❛ Trauma? Oh … you mean, my lore? ❜

❛ why must I cite sources? is it not enough to just say ‘trust me, bro’? ❜

❛ sorry for being a perfect sweetie and a genius it will likely happen again. ❜

❛ forget about touching grass; I need to touch WATER I NEED TO GO INTO THE OCEAN I NEED TO DIVE INTO THE SEA!!! ❜

❛ I’m attracted to men with muppet energy and no i will not be explaining. ❜

❛ you want me to make friends with people? the thing that killed julius caesar? ❜

❛ what’s your birthstone? mine is rock bottom. ❜

❛ I absolutely hate that I’m not bioluminescent. Pathetic. ❜

❛ ohhhhh my god i have got to stop mourning the past or whatever. ❜

❛ you expect me to act like a normal human being? I’m wearing a turtleneck! ❜

❛ i don’t struggle with same sex attraction I’m actually very good at it. ❜

❛ unfortunately i often find out without even getting the chance to fuck around. ❜

❛ I’m bisexual which means that I’m attracted to anybody who can defeat me in physical combat. ❜

❛ all anyone needs to know about me is that i’m a dumbass and i love women. ❜

❛ sorry but philosophers aren’t impressive i came up with stuff like that when i was 12. ❜

❛ I pay my own bills; I can cuss all I want! ❜

❛ I don’t have rizz; I have sad eyes and a weird presence. ❜

❛ my demons are chasing me and they’re doing the Naruto run. ❜

❛ honey we are ALL doomed by the narrative. it's not that serious. have some fun with it. ❜

❛ dating me is like interviewing a psych ward patient. ❜

❛ being a girl with very large brown eyes comes with great responsibility. ❜

❛ i’m autistic in ways that you can’t even begin to imagine. ❜

❛ being a loser may be a phase to you but its a lifestyle for me. ❜

❛ entering a magical portal in the woods would fix me. ❜

❛ I’m lonely but not in a hot mysterious way; more like in a pathetic way. ❜

❛ life is so unserious just say womp womp and move on! ❜

❛ you’re vibing? In this economy? ❜

❛ just because I’m small doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass. ❜

❛ my primary motivators are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ❜

❛ sorry about the chaos; I needed attention. ❜

❛ WHAT IS UP GIRL you look foreboding and malicious! ❜

❛ baby i can be your problematic bi wife. ❜

❛ i don’t think any of you understand how important i am to the plot. ❜

❛ what if we are both red flags? what then? ❜

❛ any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ❜

❛ my hobbies include being right, being gay, and being a hater. ❜

❛ i have a phd in Loving The Color Pink And Also Glitter. ❜

❛ being a menace to society is a full time job and I am dedicated. ❜

❛ my life has been a bouquet of oopsie daisies. ❜

❛ i survive on spite, anxiety, and blasphemy. ❜

❛ if you’re not obsessed with me, why would I wanna be with you? ❜

❛ the hottest thing a man can be is a little afraid of me. ❜

❛ my love language is being a hater. ❜

❛ i don’t get enough credit for acting far less insane than i actually am. ❜

❛ the A in my name stands for always right. ❜

❛ Jesus is my homeboy but God has a lot to answer for and I will continue to be rebellious until he does so. ❜

❛ I’ll see a man with long hair and then remember that I’m not above temptations of the flesh. ❜

❛ i’m going to be honest with you I’m not going to be honest with you. ❜

❛ stop asking me if I’m ok I’ll literally make out with you. ❜

❛ part of my masculine charm is that I’m literally insane. ❜

❛ are you sure those are demons bro? or are they consequences from the choices you made? ❜

❛ i do not identify as a boy or a girl. i identify as a nuisance, an irritant, a fool, and a problem. ❜

❛ praying on someone’s downfall isn’t enough i need to participate in it. ❜

❛ we all need to chill. i won’t do it first but it’s something i noticed. ❜

❛ not to sound like a Victorian woman suffering from hysteria but going to the sea would fix me. ❜

❛ the silly goose convention called; they asked if you could be their keynote speaker. ❜

❛ i deserve unrestricted access to old castles and old churches i want to know all the secrets. ❜

❛ doesn’t matter if you’re cringe or based we’re all just here to suffer. ❜

❛ I’m no longer comedic relief I’m now serious panic. ❜

❛ this is getting difficult to romanticize. ❜

❛ done healing my inner child. next up is my inner teen. her highness needs a sword. ❜

❛ i am God’s silliest experiment. ❜

❛ i’m very vulnerable right now if anyone wants to take advantage of me. ❜

❛ sorry i overshared do you still think im hot? ❜

❛ I can yap for days and still maintain my air of mystery. ❜

❛ good luck sending me mixed signals; I don’t even understand normal ones. ❜

❛ not all of your life decisions have to be smart. some can be purely for cinematic value. ❜

[honeyydrunk]

reasons why i would and wouldn't have sexual relations with the nct ilichil members. and unfortunately majority of the "wouldn't" is just that they're in love with another member.

(just in time for their 8th anniversary).

the one the only mr johnny suh would: - mr big dick daddy johnny suh - unity the link focus + johnny solo stage - he'd take me out to dinner first - created sexy actually bc nct we are so sexy - his father actually so created coffee - he's like 6'4 (i'm like 5'10 on a bad day) - daddy long legs - he's from chicago - ohhh he's got me giggling not just because he's crazy hot but bc he's funny part time idol full time comedian - his tattoo is insanely attractive the design the everything - i want to carry his kids and i'm a guy bro what the flip

💚 !! lee taeyong !! 💚 would: - THE male AI visual - bros big boba 🧋 tea eyes - my wartime navy husband - theres only so many times i can say he's crazy ridiculously hot utterly insane what a face he's the only person i've seen get hotter without makeup actually crazy where's that list of adjectives like beautiful breathtaking gorgeous stunning SEXY SEXY MAN enchanting hypnotising so fine i'm getting whiplash from trying to comprehend him the neost neo to ever neo ethereal angelic the highest of all blessings from aphrodite romanticism personified he is THE muse fitting of all eras his face should be in museums shown to the world i have never seen anyone that competes with his face card face CARD? face global economy face universe economy i am so happy for everything that allows me to witness this that this timeline where he is here i am witnessing his beauty his presence himself he is the beauty of this world a gem that should be praised to the highest esteem i wish nothing for him but true happiness safety and love i've heard of beauty people go to war for but he is beauty i wish peace in this earth for so that he is residing in a world that is beautiful like him for beauty such as his shouldn't be living in a world with hate and horrid things. for me, i don't even wish for anything of him, i wish for happiness and love FOR him. he is beautiful like nature, something that is perfectly created and serene. something so perfect, natural, and stunning, i wish to be a better person for him. wouldn't: - he wants to be bullied and humiliated and idk if i have that in me. i want to shower him with love and affection and he wants to be harassed.

NAKAMOTO YUTA (be warned this list goes on long i wanna fuck this man so badly it's insane mark lee watch out)

what's that the gojo fangirls said about no lube no protection? would: (i would rather die than not) - he's so hot - bros an ultimate foreign swagger - HIS HEALING SMILE - he's a literal rockstar - his dark cherry red wolfcut - chain tattoo - butterfly tattoo ON HIS STOMACH - navel piercing - alleged tongue piercing - kawaita kaze o karanase anata wo tsureteku no sa honey so sweet - his bring me the horizon cover - suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki ryo suzaki - he unbuttoned his jacket then kicked a guy in the head twice - his voice,,, man i wanna hear him talk in my mind constantly - his actual singing voice does crazy things to me though - he always EMBODIES the few lines he does get - his vocal tone is ridiculously clear and stable. genuinely unsure on how he's that mistreated his voice is insane. - i don't like drinking but when he does it, it's hot. - suzaki ryo - he takes selfies a little odd but that's okay bc he's so hot it doesn't even matter - him when he in that one kick it fancam when he just when he - "TOKYO ARE YOU FUCKING READY-?" yes i am so ready to be the baddie in your porsche. - he paints his nails cute little designs - he likes natto (i don't, so i respect this) - he was training to be a professional footballer before he joined sm - he's a scorpio - the xj kabedon incident the peppero game the favourite promotion ear furry rizz game whatever that was - he's ridiculously athletic - his lying is hot - he flirts so well wdym he got mark lee calling him oppa - he kissed that wall too well - no lube no protection all day all night any position any time place location anything he wishes anything he wants he could do anything to be and i'd be thankful on my knees thanking him

wouldn't: - he's in love with mark lee

jeong jaehyun i would because he's a february 14th valentine's 💌 boy. he's a romantic who's silly!! why wouldn't i want to dance around in the night making sure he lives the life of a romance novel even if i'm just someone he'll forget on his journey to find the one he'll truly love. i'm okay with that. please be my forever only, just for one night. why i wouldn't: jeffery jamal "can i please have 3 iced coffees?" he reminds me of handy mandy hes too much of a brother ik he has them high quality gags hidden his goofy aura ruins any sex appeal i have for him he has too many feet pics uploaded on instagram

kim doyoung would: - he's for the employed srry. - there's no way to explain his aura except he's super sexy in like a husband way. - i saw him in perfume and my life changed forever - i want to bring him home to my parents just so i could be successful for once - him when he reveals those mf collarbones and that waist of his - "tighter" yes sir - "i wanna kiss your lips" absolutely - me when he sings goes insane - he's got such a beautiful smile

wouldn't: - i'm not quite sure how sex with him would be like and this post is about sex not marriage,,,,, though let's be real if he proposed YES OFC?! - he sings like he's been through several divorces he seems so heartbreak and i don't want my heart broken (ignore how i'd break my heart into a million pieces for taeyong and yuta)

kim jungwoo

would: - two baddies era jungwoo changed me in ways you can't imagine - he's so tall woah (im the same height) - sugaring candy what's that doja said? - me when he in two baddies - i need fuckboy jungwoo to make a comeback - bro in the dojaejung videos made me go crazy - unity + the link jungwoo solo performance 'lipstick' - he'd play me and i wouldn't care

wouldn't: - how could we have sex when we could gossip

MARK LEE ITS BEEN A MINUTE IM IT RAWRRRRR WHAT IS A BAD VERSE? WHAT IS NO FLOW? WHAT IS NOT SERVING US W HIT AFTER HIT !!? would: - i'll make him pop w head no talk ay like chardonnay mwah cherry bomb - when he rapped his shi off on that glass box (quiet down, kyocera japan performance) - "ladies just wait for me good girl. i got a really big," show me rn no proof otherwise - "diamond. married the kitchen to cook you up," marry me - "topping your faves" i love myself so uh top me. (WHAT DID I SAY?) - when he swears it's crazy hot

wouldn't: - he moans too much but like doing normal everyday things don't think i've forgetting that one live - i'm not nakamoto yuta (i want nakamoto yuta) - he can say some real cringe things sometimes

haechanahceah my bro lee donghyuk the LEE HAECHAN

would - him in poison - him when glowy and tan - him when he sings - him when he dances - him when he raps - him when he does anything - him when he exists - him when he's with that messy eyeliner - him when he's barefaced - him when he flirts - him when moans (he has on live MULTIPLE TIMES)

wouldn't: - if he said anything in his aegyo voice i physically couldn't have sexual relations with him that's not smth i can stomach sorry guys - i'm not mark or yuta

love all my neos but a special shout out to the ilichils who have served us with absolute BANGERS timeless experimental classics. they've sacrificed a lot for us and work extremely hard for this. i want to thank them for 8 years !! and i hope that they can continue to bless us with more for as long as they wish to remain in the industry.

[ageingfangirl2]

You Can't Hurt Me! Haruchiyo Sanzu (Tokyo Revengers)

You work in a coffee shop, another day of being bored and fake smiling at customers, until a pink-haired man comes crashing through the window and meets his match. Sanzu x Reader (Bonten Timeline)

'Only two more hours until I can close this place,' you mutter under your breath, leaning on the counter with your hands on your face.

Your eyes roam lazily over the scattered handful of customers in the coffee shop. A loved-up couple in the corner huddled together whispering and blushing, a few businessmen and women tapping away at their phones, and a wannabe writer who practically lives here. All day everyday just like you, you think gloomily.

Still leaning on one hand, you tap your fingers on your other hand impatiently on the counter, musing over ways you could close the shop early for the day. You had three options that sprung to mind; one, you could make up an excuse about a gas leak since the building down the road had one a month ago, two, act crazy so everyone leaves and you potentially get fired, or three, bide your time patiently so you earn every dime of your paycheck.

You decide on option three, blowing out a loud sigh. You needed the money, you couldn't afford to lose this job in the current economy. Making coffee wasn't your ideal life, the job wasn't that hard, it just got boring in the late afternoon when the crowds thinned and you were left to your own devices.

You pick up the rag over your shoulder, deciding to wipe the counter down one more time when a loud crash startles you and snaps you out of your thoughts.

A man quite literally comes flying through the window, sending glass shards across the room, luckily there were no customers in those window seats. Customers scream in terror, as the man, bloodied and bruised rises to his feet, but unlike everyone else, you weren't terrified because things just got interesting.

As if he knew you were watching him, his eyes snap in your direction, his gaze fierce and piercing. You could see why people would be scared of him because he had interesting scars around his mouth and screamed 'mafia' vibes. But right now all you could think about was how you had another mess to clean up and your boss wasn't going to be happy.

'Will you stop dripping blood all over my clean floors?' you ask, voice monotone as you meet his gaze.

He growls, his voice dark and dripping with menace, 'Excuse me?'

'I just mopped,' you reply, and stand up straight, stretching to work out some kinks in your back from leaning over.

He reaches around his back, pulls a gun from the waistband of his trousers and points it directly at you, a wicked grin creeping onto his lips. At this point what few customers had stayed to gawk flee from the shop leaving the two of you alone.

You stare him down as he chuckles, 'It's just the two of us now.'

You nod, 'Great, I was looking for an excuse to close early.'

His grin wavers. He tries to take a step towards you but staggers backwards, wincing. Whatever fight he'd been in, it was catching up to him, 'quick. Help dress my wounds.'

He waves his gun at you with shaky hands, 'or I'll shoot you dead.'

You clear your throat and raise a single eyebrow, 'only if you ask me nicely sir.'

His eyes widen in shock, probably not used to being spoken back to, 'What did you say?'

You sigh loudly again, imagining being anywhere but here right now, 'did your hearing get damaged when you came crashing through the window?'

'NO!' He snaps.

You motion behind him towards the front door, 'Come on, then. Walk outside, and enter with a better attitude. I'll treat your wounds, but you have to be respectful.'

Confusion, anger and something else flash across his face while you watch him with disinterest.

'Who do you think you are? Telling me what to do,' he waves his gun at you again as he speaks.

Your tiredness turns into anger, 'and who the hell do you think you are? If you don't want to bleed out, you need to...ask...me...nicely.'

He stares at you, his mouth agape, speechless. Then he grits his teeth, 'Fine. Will you please kindly help me with my wounds?'

You smile a little, 'there, was that so hard?'

You pull out the first aid kit from under the counter and walk around the counter holding it in front of you as you carefully approach him. You reach out to pull off his suit jacket, but he flinches away.

'What are you doing?' he gasps.

You roll your eyes, 'I need to be able to see the wounds to treat them.'

He blinks a couple of times, realisation dawning on his face, 'Oh, right...go ahead...'

You extend your hand again slowly as if he were a dangerous animal that might bite. This time he lets you help him out of his jacket which you place over the back of a nearby chair, while he winces.

You let him remove his waistcoat, tie and shirt which was bloodied. It was a lot to take in coming face to face with his bare chest, he was in good physical shape. You'd think he was carved out of stone if it wasn't for the warmth that came off his body reminding you he was human. You quickly tell your brain to get out of the gutter with dirty thoughts, seeing the amount of blood on his chest, there was a lot of it.

The main wound was on his right ribcage, and looked like someone had stabbed him, but he had other cuts and gashes across his arms, and even his face, but some of those could have been from being thrown through a glass window.

You take a deep breath, 'let me guess, I'd hate to see the other guy?'

'Other guys,' he grumbles

You pull out a disinfectant wipe and dab at the cut on his face just to the left of one of his scars.

'FUCK YOU! OW!!!' he shouts.

You pull the wipe back in surrender, 'sorry, sorry,' you mumble, 'I should have warned you that this might sting a little.'

He grunts, and you move back in to dab the cut with a much more gentle touch, 'do you have to?'

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your laughter, he's awfully scared for a tough guy, 'if it gets infected, it's going to hurt a whole lot more.'

You try to quickly clean the smaller cuts and gashes not wanting him to lash out at you because he couldn't handle a little pain. After throwing out the bloody wipes, you unroll the bandage and start to tackle the deeper wound on his ribcage. He grunts and grimaces as you wrap the bandage tighter and tighter around his body.

'You really should go to the hospital, looks like this might need stitches,' you observe, as you wrap, noticing some blood seeping through.

He huffs, 'I couldn't care less about how I look.'

You stop your work and pull back looking at him with your own grin. His perfectly styled pink hair and smart clothes, all screamed I care, 'sure you don't.'

You cut the excess bandage and tape it down, 'how did you get into this mess if you don't mind me asking.'

He eyes you suspiciously, 'what do you care?'

You shrug your shoulders, 'Call me curious. Maybe I'd like to avoid ending up in a similar situation if it isn't safe around here anymore.'

He scoffs, trust me, I don't think you need to worry about that.'

You match his scoff, 'why not?'

He eyes you up and down smirking, 'You don't seem the type to get into trouble.'

You chew your lip, weighing up his words, 'Is that a compliment or an insult?'

He shrugs, 'You decide.'

You smile and puff out your chest proudly, 'compliment then.'

You watch him put his shirt back on along with the waistcoat which he leaves open, before slowly and carefully putting his jacket back on with the tie now in the pocket. When he's done you take a step back and finally take in the messy scene around you, 'now you can help me clean this place up.'

His mouth hangs open, 'you want me to what?'

You motion around you at the broken glass and blood, 'Clean up. Look at the mess you made. I've had a long day...a long week... and an even longer year.'

You slump down into a nearby chair, suddenly feeling the full weight of your exhaustion after the small adrenaline rush.

He shakes his head, 'do you think I care?'

You click your tongue, 'I don't know. I don't care.'

His brows furrow together, 'why aren't you afraid of me?'

You shrug a shoulder, 'I'm too tired to be afraid of you right now.'

He squints at you, curiosity in his eyes, 'You should be terrified of me. You should be begging me to spare your life.'

He prowls towards you, wearing a menacing grin, 'Don't you know who I am? Don't you know who I work for?'

'Enlighten me then,' you reply, back in your monotone voice from before.

His eyes narrow to snake-like slits as he takes in your bored expression, 'I'm one the most powerful and dangerous men you'll ever meet. I'm Haruchiyo Sanzu.'

You blink a couple of times, you couldn't care less who he thought he was, you hadn't heard his name before or even seen him around his area before.

He fingers the gun which was back in his waistband, 'I could hurt you so bad. You'd wish you were dead.'

You roll your eyes which you'd done a lot during this encounter, 'Sanzu, is it? I work in customer service. You can't hurt me in any way that matters.'

He looks frozen, almost like a deer in headlights. You manage to make yourself stand up and take off your apron which had his blood on and fling it on the table ready to call it a night.

'You--You don't--' he stammers, and this time when he eyes you up and down there's something different in his eyes, like he's seeing you for the first time.

You put your hands on your hips, ready to hand back any crap he decided to throw your way, 'What?'

He looks flustered, and he can't stop staring at you so you continue speaking, 'What? Spit it out. I don't have all night.'

As you step around him he manages to speak, 'You look better than this place, that's all. You don't belong here.'

You look down at your feet, suddenly very aware of yourself. You try to keep the heat from showing on your cheeks at his genuine words. He was the first person other than yourself who'd told you that you were better than this place.

'What do you mean by that?' you ask.

'It was meant as a compliment, geeze you're annoying,' he snaps back.

You pout, 'didn't sound like one with your tone is all.'

You flip the sign on the door from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED' before heading back behind the counter to retrieve the brush and pan along with the mop bucket, ignoring Sanzu, though you could feel his eyes on you.

'Well, uh...I guess I'll be going then,' he says.

You glance over your shoulder at him to see he is checking out the name tag on your apron, '...nice name.'

You slap your hand down on the counter, at least pay for a coffee, you've done enough damage.'

He continues to stare at you with the same shocked expression, that seems to have a begrudging respect undertone, you guess he'd never come across somebody quite like you.

'Okay, fine,' he says calmly, and approaches the counter taking his wallet out of his back pocket instead of the gun.'

'Err...wh-what do you want?' you stutter, not expecting him to take up your offer or even pay.

'Surprise me,' he replies, a lazy smirk on his lips.

He knew he was affecting you, maybe getting the upper hand on you after your attitude towards him earlier. So you decide to make him the simplest drink, not just because you are lazy, but because you think it suits him.

'Double espresso, black,' you call out, putting the drink in front of him.

He picks it up and sips it, his eyes sparkling at you over the cup's rim. He doesn't make any noise of approval or disapproval. Instead, he passes a crisp one hundred across the counter towards you, 'Keep the change.'

You gape at him, staring at the money, as he swiftly finishes the drink and throws the takeaway cup in the bin next to the counter. Wordlessly, he struts out of the shop with his head held high, leaving you with the mess he'd made.

[even-disco-baby]

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “You’re pretty good with that boy, Cuno.” She says it thoughtfully, as though she’s turning this fact over in her mind as she works at the tangled net in her lap. The sea is a soft roar over the horizon, and the world is tinged a dusky blue.

“Really? It doesn’t feel like I am. He still calls me anything but my name. Usually a slur.”

“It’s tough love, Lilienne, that’s all. A kid like that needs discipline.”

“He’s not that hard to deal with. He just wants somebody to play along with him. That��s all any kid wants.”

“He was good to me first.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She arches an eyebrow. “Really now…”

DRAMA — She isn’t doubtful, sire. Just surprised.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Well, I hope you’ll keep on being good to each other, then. The kid certainly needs it.”

EMPATHY — And so do you, she thinks.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “You seem good with the young people around here in general,” she muses. “Cuno, those kids at the church, Lily and the boys… You said you used to be a teacher, didn’t you? Maybe that’s why.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — A familiar ache squeezes your lungs. The same ache that drove you to become a teacher in the first place. An incalculable and long forgotten loss.

INLAND EMPIRE — Don’t follow this thread any further. Let it unravel.

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“No, there’s something else… Lost children, a lost Indotribe…” [Follow the thread.]

“I think I wanted to be a father, once.” [Change the subject.]

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She pauses her work, strands of the net wrapped loosely around her fingers, but does not look up. “…Oh?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Hey, it’s never too late! Now’s your chance to give fatherhood a shot!

“Any chance *we* could make it happen?” [Give her the finger guns.]

“I wonder why I did…”

“It was a stupid thing to want.”

“I still do.”

“I guess it never worked out.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Hm…” She goes back to her work, slowly and carefully. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. Can’t remember.”

“In *this* economy?”

“Things never lined up right, I guess.”

“I bet it was *her* fault. She ruined my chances forever.”

“Too poor and drunk and sad.”

“I’d never want to inflict myself on a child.”

“Just look at me.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She does look at you. There is no pity or disgust or whatever other terrible thing you expected in her gaze. Just a quiet acknowledgment.

EMPATHY — To her, you look just like a father she once knew. This only makes her more inclined to agree with you.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “…When I first got pregnant with the boys,” she says quietly, returning to her work, “I was uneasy. Wondered if it was… right to bring them into this world. Into *our* arms…”

PAIN THRESHOLD — A rare pang wracks her. She does not like to think about these things.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “I never did decide one way or another. I just knew what I wanted, and so I went ahead with it. *We* went ahead with it. And then again with Lily, even though…”

EMPATHY — Even though at heart she knew, by then, how it would all end.

SHIVERS — Five years ago, a man stands on the boardwalk where the corpse of a different drunken husband will one day be discovered. Bottle still clutched tightly in his hand, he fights the urge to throw himself into the dark water. He wins the battle today, but he will ultimately lose the war.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “However things turned out for you, I’m sure you had your reasons.” She sighs, and cuts a strand of the net with the tip of her knife, then ties it back together. “Though that probably sounds shallow, coming from me.”

“A little, yeah.”

“Not at all.”

“Can I ask you something?”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Go ahead.”

“Do you regret having kids?”

“Uh… never mind.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She smiles, and there’s an uncharacteristic sadness in the lines around her eyes.

“No,” she says softly. “Never once.”

EMPATHY — She wonders if this is proof of her own selfishness.

It isn’t the children she regrets. It’s the world that she brought them into.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Now that they’re here, all we can do is love them. And you’ve got plenty of love in you for the children, it seems. That’s more than a lot of fathers could say…” She sighs, her eyes shadowed and sunken. “Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say anymore.”

DRAMA — But you know what *you* would like to say, sire. Go ahead. Now’s your moment!

REACTION SPEED — No, it really isn’t. Please don’t push your luck.

“Lilienne…”

Don’t push your luck.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She turns to you, expression inscrutable with the light of the setting sun behind her. “Yes?”

“Do you think *we* could ever… try again?”

“Do you think you could ever see *me* as… a father?”

“Do you think there’s any hope in this world for any of us?”

“Do you think the children will ever forgive us?”

“Do you think I’m… a good man?”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She looks at you, her chin no longer held high, a tired slump in her shoulders and something searching in her eye. Her hands are all tangled in webs of fragile knots.

“I think…” she says slowly, evenly, “you’re looking for something that I can’t give you.”

-1 MORALE

“Okay. Well. Khm. Right.”

“What the hell does *that* mean?”

“That’s not really what I asked…”

Say nothing.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “I know what you’re asking,” Lilienne says frankly. “I’m just not so sure that *you* do…”

EMPATHY — For love.

RHETORIC — For vindication.

INLAND EMPIRE — For a lifeline.

VOLITION — For a future.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — Lilienne sighs, watching the twins in the distance, starting the long march home from the beach before dark. “At some point, Harry, you’re going to have to be okay with your life.”

SHIVERS — You have twenty two years left to reach that point.

[chronic-claire-universe]

Shion Madarame: Fix Her Daddy

Hey bunnies, I had an improptu inspiration and thought to gift a drabble about daddy Shion after a long time! I hope that you will like it and that we’ll find inspiration from something else together

Characther: Shion Madarame

Warnings: None, Fluff, Dad! Shion, Pregnancy, Kid Crying

When Shion Madarame hears his daughter sniffling in her bedroom he seems clueless on what to do, he’s scared not to be the best to console his crying daughter that’s why he plans to wait for you to come back.

Chie Madarame, his young kid is always been a mommy’s girl and he knows, no, he is sure, that he can’t help his daughter calm down. But soon the crying becomes unbearable for the blonde man and decide to knock on his daughter’s bedroom, he sees the tiny blonde figure crying on the floor while hugging her stuffed doll. “Babygirl what happened?” Shion asks to Chie lifting her and holding her. The toddler turns and cry on her father’s chest and soon she calms down as he rubs her back, “Mimi lost her eye” Chie explains, showing her father that the stuffed doll with a loosing button eye and Shion sighs, “Oh no, we could always bu-” NO NONO NO, Chie shouts disapproving her father’s plan, “You need to fix her eye so she can be happy again”.

Shion is clueless, fix her? Sewing the button on the doll’s face is hard? This man doesn’t even now where to start, but seeing his daughter pout he can’t help but nod, taking a sight of the doll before going downstairs.

“Daddy needs to get prepared before fixing Mimi ok princess?” Shion asks and his daughter nods sitting next to him on the sofa, as he watches a domestic economy video and  get prepared with needle and thread. What you find when you come back home is a focused man and your sleeping daughter next to him, as he boops his tongue and try to sew back the doll. You can’t help but giggle and Shion turns to you with a proud smug, “Don’t tell me I’m not a good dad” you nod taking your daughter and bring her to her bedroom and when you come back you see that he finished, so you sit next to him and caress his thig lovingly. “Since you’re such a good father I’m sure that you would be glad to know that we’re going to have another one soon” Shion gasps, hearing the pregnancy announcement and hugs you, thinking about the almost horrific free afternoon became one of the best day of his life.

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[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep3 Musings - Loumand

Last post, I promise; I needed another nap; this ep's a freaking rollercoaster. And these two queens nearly gave me a stress ulcer!

DEBATABLE, Louis. I can think of FAR worse vamps than you, love.

Why're y'all having this whole conversation where anyone can hear?

They got Sartre's wall-eyes down; good makeup this season, team! 👌

DreamStat's a Loumand bed-death truther, jfc. 😭

I wanna know EXACTLY what Armand sees--or "feels"--whenever DreamStat pops up in Lou's head. Cuz he clearly knows precisely where Les is; he looks right in his direction. But does he HEAR Les too? (God I hope not, this song would've had me SEETHING--Back to Hell with you! 😅)

"Oh dear" indeed; I was HOLLERING.

SAM WAS DEVOURING THIS SCENE HOLY GOD GO AWAY DEMON

Armand looked PISSED, I was scared for Louis' life! And he DOES know, actually, yes Lou. I can almost GUARANTEE that he knows PRECISELY where Lestat is AT THIS VERY MOMENT, yes Lou.

If only you knew.... 😬

Claudia's suffered more than Christ. And nice cut to Daniel sneaking around with Raglan James as Armand talks about Furies punishing "human wrongdoing." It's really interesting that Armand told the lawyer that LOUIS is the owner of the paintings. Is he the owner of the penthouse too? HOW MANY DEEDS DOES HE HAVE, ROLIN?

I wonder what AMC might be saying about Loumand's art collection, not just wrt what we know about art heist!Armand (which we'll likely see a nod to in Ep4 at the Louvre); but also wrt what we know about Dubai's godawful neocapitalist hellscape economy, and Loumand's "moralizing" about Parisian black markets in S01E02.

I wonder if that's the excuse Armand'll give the coven when Louis shows up for dinner in Ep4--very much NOT dead; and rips out Santiago's tongue.

WILD voice-over, cuz you KNOW that's what Santiago was thinking, too, LOL. (You wish, Francis.) But yes: Louis' finna end your whole career. XD

Another TERRIFYING jumpscare from the coven, like in Ep2 with Annika. Louis, I am shocked & appalled--can you not HEAR all these vamps planning your bloody murder around you? CLAUDIA! WTF!?

But this is how you know Armand's true personality--he hates getting his hands dirty. He kills all the time, but he makes his victims' deaths pretty. He'd rather sit back & let Lestat/Louis come in and wreck his whole coven, even though he has the power to just light those mofos up all on his own! I wish AMC emphasized a bit more that Armand not only writes/directs the plays--he's an ACTOR, too. And istg he's an expert at PRETENDING to be helpless, meanwhile he's the strongest vamp that's NOT one of the Children of the Millennia (thanks to how well Marius made him).

Armand, that is LOW; waiting until Claudia's stuck under the oaths b4 you tell her she's guilty of breaking Great Laws she doesn't even know about yet. WTF?

How TF you gon' hold Louis accountable for following the Laws when he wasn't even allowed to be in the effing room when they were read!? He's not even a member! WTF! (I get it--any rogue vampires are subject to death, yadayada; we know it's a stupid policy.)

I love how he plans to leave by himself here--it had nothing to do with picking "another one" over Claudia. He just didn't want to hold her back anymore. And his presence was causing problems. 😭 It's so cute that Louis' stipulation about London was that if it's "too large" he'd leave and go to Ireland (?!?)--he's become agoraphobic or something? He just wants to be alone in his hermit hole--MOOD. 😭

Good to get confirmation that the Fire Gift here is Armand and blessedly NOT Santiago--so why's he zooming around in the sewers?

Look, sometimes folks make terrible first impressions--Lestat was being hella racist, Louis' always playing defense, Armand was finna kill Louis in a gay public park. It happens.

Foreshadowing like crazy, as usual.

WILD thing to say. I'm gonna cry, please stop.

(What kinda hypocrisy is that, when you were made young your dang self!?) She's already 30+ years old--maybe she'll last a little longer if y'all (read: sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, etc society) don't eff around tryna make her life even harder! But AMC's deliberately cutting Claudia's life in half, compared to the books, cuz misogynoir's real and Claudia gets NOTHING out of vampirism, not even a fair chance. And y'all let her into the coven KNOWING how much she loves y'all, and KNOWING y'all were gonna kill her. EFF THIS WHOLE COVEN, ARMAND INCLUDED. (Lemme calm down--this kind of betrayal is exactly how Lestat must've felt in S01E07; I get it; they're getting a taste of their own medicine. But LESTAT EFFING HAD IT COMING. The coven should've just told them: y'all got til sunrise to GTFO our territory, you're not welcome here. This whole bit's unnecessary.)

THE PARALLELS ARE PARALLELING

SKILL ISSUE. Cuz Louis' got the least power, and he's finna clear that whole bish out in just a couple episodes. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Louis, love, ARMAND DON'T GIVE A EFF ABOUT RAISING SOME OTHER MAN'S OFFSPRING. This is the call of the wild, as Alphas KILL the children their stolen Omega brides had for other Alphas/Betas, so he can restart the gene pool with HIS DNA instead. I know y'all had National Geographic back then already--READ A BOOK, Louis, it's what you're best at.

Incredible. After all of that Louis said Lestat never broke him. BENT BUT NEVER BROKEN, that's right! 💪😤

Boy, we're not talking about some little (unrequited) CRUSH over a man you only knew for a few months (which you've CLEARLY not gotten over yet). Louis was MARRIED to the man for 30 YEARS. This is his MAKER. Lestat knew his whole family; went to the Black cookouts and everything! They literally built a home AND business together! They raised a child together! WHATCHU KNOW ABOUT THAT!?

And that's LESTAT'S DAUGHTER TOO--how much can you possibly love EITHER of them while planning to knock her off!? I can't listen to too much more of this. *hands Louis the torch and scythe*

Beautiful end of this STACKED episode. Incredible work, AMC! Jacob acted his PANTS off; he excels at the trembling voice, agonized facial expressions, and utter mental breakdowns. He's pulling DEEP within him, holy god; it's so raw, it's almost hard to watch. EMMY WHEN?!

[starburr]

Things that Marcy is and thinks about

Marcy wishes they could fall asleep easier, it would certainly help with the anxiety. A lot of things keep them awake at night. Things that they should have done, things that they shouldn't have done. Things that they should really see to doing one day, especially with the whole "before it comes back to bite you in the ass" shtick that they've seen many times before. Personally experienced even. A long exhale escapes them, a little jolt in response at how hefty it was.

They stare at the ceiling, the years having worn it with a few flecks of debris. The same realization makes itself known every night. They have gotten better, despite not fully over it. All of those things, even the little ones seem to tower over them. Maybe it's memories from then, they reason, trying not to wince at the mildly orange tinted nightlight. They oughta get a new one, maybe colored pink and blue instead. Moments of self-reflection, as awful as some of the memories were, they find themselves still giddy.

Giddy because they understand. They are many things, one of them being deeply in love with the very two who've accompanied them on such a wild ride. Their wit and own soul let them make it this far, all while contributing towards something greater than themselves. And to think 'time flies when you're having fun.' That statement isn't completely true, they muse to themselves. Perhaps amused it's been about two decades since then, when the world they knew almost ended. But they are still here.

Marcy glances at the window, almost terrifyingly quiet, yet somehow alluring as the stars flicker in the sky. As mundane as it is in comparison to the previous feeling, they are yet another thing. Surprised. Surprised that despite everything they've had to learn to let go, of who made their way back to them, sleeping soundly in an awkward cuddlepile. They still can't believe how fortunate they are.

And so Marcy lies down, the inner doubt not as loud anymore, as they now ponder on what design the rings should be. September was still far away, but they would rather their spouses-to-be get it over with. They recall how Sasha mentioned that 'marriage was a scam' or something to that effect, a 'waste of money' to which they had laughed at. Anne interjected, saying that they'd figure it out like they always did, together.

They wondered what else they might do going forward, maybe a little daunting at times. The prospect of failure seemed heavier more than ever, especially when the economy wasn't particularly in a great state as of yet. It's not like their jobs were horrible, yet still that doubt gnawed away at Marcy. At least Anne and Sasha made things so much easier, like a blanket of pride and adoration tailormade for them.

For a moment, the thought dissipates, a sudden rush of panic. How would they ever face the worst? What if Anne gets fired from her job? What if Sasha loses sight in his other eye? What if the future is so much worse than what they've planned, would they all fall apart? They almost cry, almost.

Now, a silence hangs steady in the night air, the chill running down Marcy's back no longer from nervousness. They had the answer. Whatever they'd go through, they would do it together.

And so, their eyes droop shut. The early rays of a new day shining not too long after, setting in through the branches of the nearby woods. Marcy Wu is home, and they are yet another thing, happy.

[freyjawriter24]

AO3 is down, so I'll have to post this there later and backdate it, but...

Today's 10th July, which means there's only 18 days left until Season 2 of Good Omens!

To commemorate this momentus point in the @gomenseveryday countdown, please enjoy the little fic below the cut...

August 2008: 11 years until Armageddon

Aziraphale was trying desperately not to think about it too much. He was failing, of course. But really, how could he be expected to just forget? This was, quite literally, the end of the world. And even if it was still eleven years away, well, that really wasn't long at all, if you thought about it. Which, despite his best efforts, Aziraphale certainly was.

He'd tried putting on some music to distract himself, but that had failed dismally, too. What a Wonderful World, Louis sang, and the angel couldn't help but picture it as a mourning song, covering everything Aziraphale would be heartbroken to lose when the war destroyed it all.

He'd quickly changed the record, but for some reason the next, usually upbeat track suddenly sounded sinister.

Everyday it's a-gettin' closer,

Goin' faster than a roller coaster...

Oh dear. Eleven years really wasn't much at all, was it? He wished Crowley were here. Why had he only agreed to meet with him the following morning? That was hours away. And in the meantime, he had to sit with memories of destruction and the echo of Buddy's words circling around in his head.

Everyday it's a-gettin' closer...

August 2009: 10 years until the Apocalypse

A decade left, now. Only a decade. Crowley had slept through more than one of those by accident, and now it was all the time they had remaining until either the Earth was annihilated or they, impossibly, miraculously, succeeded. Ten years.

You wouldn't think it, looking at him. Warlock Dowling, the Antichrist. It didn't feel real, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He was still so small. One year old, and so much potential held within him. He looked like any other human child.

Still, ten years. Just a drop in the ocean in Crowley's lifetime, but for a human – a human child in particular – that was aeons. They had time. Time to guide him, time to encourage him, time to carefully balance the good and bad impulses in him so that Hell would fail and Heaven would be denied their war. They could do this. They still had time.

August 2010: 9 years until the End of the World

"It's admirable, really," Michael mused, only half sincere.

"Naïve, is what it is," Gabriel grumbled. "And now we're getting yearly check-ins, as if anything at all is going to change."

Michael nodded sympathetically, and shuffled some paperwork on her desk. She wouldn't have minded Aziraphale's visits really – it often made for an entertaining change of pace, watching him attempt to make his busywork sound important – except that they always seemed to leave Gabriel in a bad mood.

"Well, at least you've got less than a decade left of that to go."

"Yes!" Gabriel said, brightening. "Only nine years left, and then war. What a delightful thought."

Michael smiled. "Glorious indeed."

August 2011: 8 years until the End Times

"I don't get it," Beelzebub muttered.

"He always did like going above and beyond," Dagon reasoned.

"Yeah, but yearly check-ins? It's just pointless. We know the child is going to be evil, he's the Antichrist, for Satan's sake. We don't need constant updates just to state the obvious. Certainly not every year."

Dagon shrugged. "I think he just likes showing off. Fair enough, really. He's been doing some outstanding work up there. It's only demonic that he come and gloat." The Lord of the Files rifled through a damp-looking cabinet, and pulled out a mouldy-looking folder. "Have you seen what he did with the global economy the other year? I'm thinking of sending him another commendation for that."

Beelzebub hadn't, but didn't want to let on in case Dagon launched into an explanation. "Why doesn't he come and give us presentations on that, then, rather than some snivelling child?"

Dagon raised an eyebrow. "Because you'd hate that too, and understand it even less. He's not stupid. Don't you remember the M25?"

Beelzebub groaned. "Okay, yeah, fair enough." There was silence for a moment, broken only by the steady drip of yet another broken pipe. Then: "Do you trust him, though?"

Dagon snorted. "No. Of course not."

"Good. Just checking."

"Like I said, he's doing it for his own benefit, not ours. Self-obsessed little prick, prancing his pet project in front of us every year. But at least it's only for another handful."

"Mmm. Suppose so."

Beelzebub looked gloomily into a corner, lost in thought.

Dagon sighed and slammed the filing cabinet shut. "Want to go torture someone for a bit?"

"Fuck yes. I thought you'd never ask."

August 2012: 7 years until the Destruction of Earth.

Everyone was so happy this year. London was buzzing with the energy of it all, the weather seemed determined to echo the mood, and Warlock was picking up on the collective indulgence in the simple joy of living.

You wouldn't think there was only seven years left of all this.

They took him to the Olympic Stadium, and the O2, and the Velodrome, even though he was probably still too young to understand all the rules and nuances of the sports they were watching. He loved clapping and cheering, though, and would do so regardless of who won, calling out with pride when Kenya got gold, when France did, when China did.

Thaddeus was getting more and more red in the face with each passing win for another country, but Nanny Ashtoreth's sharp gaze stopped him from doing anything about it. She'd had the forethought to warn him in advance that there would be no stifling of Warlock's joy this summer, as he was far too young to be trying to understand the nuances of the geopolitical landscape his father occupied.

Harriet sat fairly quietly the whole time, trying not to look bored, and clapping politely whenever either the USA or UK did well.

When it came to his birthday towards the end of the month, Warlock's parents got him a bike. A simple gesture, but one surprisingly aware of their son's interests.

Nanny carefully fitted a pair of stabilisers to it, and Brother Francis gifted Warlock a set of knee pads and elbow pads, alongside a helmet printed with an illustration of grass and ladybirds.

Warlock learned quickly, and took great joy in shouting out garbled imitations of Olympic commentary as he cycled around the garden.

"And Warlock Dowling cwruches his enemies under his heel, shooting stwaight into first place and winning five hundred gold medals for Team GB. And, uh, America."

Nanny watched with pride, and ignored the flutter of nerves that whispered that she might be doing a better job at influencing the child than her counterpart, and all that would mean.

August 2013: 6 years until the start of the Second Angelic War

Brother Francis tried not to think too hard about it all while he neatened up the flowerbeds for the garden party that afternoon. Warlock was turning five, and miraculously the weather had speckled the garden with enough rain overnight to keep everything looking green and vibrant without threatening any ruination to the outdoor celebration that was to come.

Five years old. Six years left.

He tried not to think about flaming swords and burning wings. Tried not to consider what might become of this garden in a few short years if they failed. Tried not to imagine what would happen to the Antichrist himself if he accepted all his inborn power.

"Brovver Francis!" came a high-pitched call, and the gardener turned to see Warlock – still tiny, really, barely more than a toddler – running across the grass towards him, Nanny following protectively just behind.

"Hello young Master Warlock. And happiest of birthdays to you! How old are you now?"

"Four," Warlock said, a little uncertainly.

"Ah, you were four, weren't you my little Prince of Darkness," Nanny said, crouching down. "But today is your birthday, and that means you get to add one year to your age! So how old are you now?"

"Five!" Warlock said brightly.

"Yes, you clever little cherub!" Brother Francis beamed.

Cherub? Nanny mouthed over Warlock's head.

Francis raised his eyebrows and shrugged slightly. Ashtoreth rolled her eyes.

"Almost halfway to conquering the world, aren't you, my little charcoal dove?"

The gardener gave Nanny a look then, too, but she just smiled, a touch wickedly.

"Come on then, Warlock, let's let Brother Francis finish his work so everything's ready for your party."

"Okay Nanny! Bye Brovver Francis!"

"Goodbye, Warlock!"

Only six years left.

August 2014: 5 years until the End of Humanity

Warlock was turning six this year. He was very excited.

Six was bigger than five, and four, and three, and two, and one. It was much bigger than zero. Not quite as big as seven, true, but six was a very good number. It did lots of clever things with factors and division, which Warlock liked, and it had a special sort of meaning when three of them were next to each other, which Nanny liked. And three was half of six, too, so even better. Warlock liked maths a lot.

Six was also over halfway to eleven, which Nanny said was going to be important. That was when he'd come into his powers and rule the world. Mummy said it was when he'd go to big school, too, so maybe that was what Nanny meant. But either way, he was over halfway there now. Six was a very good number.

August 2015: 4 years until the Events of Revelations Come to Pass

Warlock had been looking forward to his birthday, as usual, until he'd learnt from his father that seven-year-olds don't have nannies, they have tutors, and that meant Ashtoreth would be leaving him soon. The child was heartbroken, and even Nanny couldn't console him for several days.

He seemed to cheer up a bit, though, when he met the first of his two new tutors – Mr Harrison, it appeared to Thaddeus and Harriet, was exactly the sort of no-nonsense teacher that little Warlock needed to get over his childish attachment to his Nanny. Warlock looked up at his new tutor in awe, and chose not to suggest otherwise to his parents.

The changeover day was to be his birthday, when neither Nanny nor tutors would be required, and it thus marked a turning point in young Warlock's life. But he knew he would be safe. Growing up wasn't all that scary when you had trusted people there to protect you. And, as it turned out, Mr Cortese looked rather familiar too. Maybe the future was going to be okay after all.

August 2016: 3 years until the End of Days

"Maths! Why did it have to be maths?"

"I don't know. I can't imagine where he gets it from."

"Makes no sense at all."

Warlock was thriving in his lessons, but that was the one thing Mr Harrison really couldn't get over. Maths.

"I mean, if it had been anything else..."

"Well, perhaps it's our fault. We really should have learnt enough by now to keep up with him on it."

"Yes, but..." Mr Harrison spluttered for a moment, unable to articulate his thoughts. "It's maths."

"Point taken."

The only maths Mr Harrison was capable of doing at the moment was subtraction. Specifically, counting down from eleven. And he was getting shockingly close to zero now...

August 2017: 2 years until the Day of Reckoning

Mr Cortese was getting rather into this teaching lark. He hadn't done much of it for centuries, but the knack hadn't left him, and he was rather enjoying things. Pity about the maths, but he was less distraught about that than his counterpart.

He just had to remember that this wasn't forever. It was a temporary measure, designed to prevent the end of the human race and all life on earth.

He didn't like reminding himself of that. But needs must. He shouldn't lose sight of the goal.

Not that Buddy was letting him forget any time soon.

August 2018: 1 year until Judgement Day

The tutors both got Warlock's birthday off, and so Crowley and Aziraphale were holed up in the bookshop, celebrating dismally the one-year-left anniversary.

"It will be fine, won't it?"

"We've done all we can."

"Not quite yet. Still a year left."

"Yes. A year."

They sat in silence for a long while. Well, the outside world was silent – Aziraphale could still hear the echoes of an earworm he'd had for the last decade, insistent and unrelenting. He began to tap his foot absentmindedly.

"What's that you've got there, angel?" Crowley asked after a few moments.

"Hmm?"

"What's in your head? You're tapping."

"Oh. Yes." He sighed. "Buddy Holly."

"...Buddy Holly?"

The angel sighed again, then got up and put the offending record on. The upbeat music filled the bookshop, and the demon winced.

"Ah. Buddy Holly."

Everyday it's a-gettin' closer...

August 2019: Adam Young's 11th Birthday

Adam opened his eyes. Yes. Today was the day. Eleven years old. He he grinned up at the ceiling, then scrambled out of bed, still grinning, and headed downstairs.

Today was going to be a brilliant day.

[nyaagolor]

Paldean League Worldbuilding

aka how Geeta is reshaping the poke-economy and making herself the most hated woman ever in the process

I generally try to keep any sort of real world analogues out of my HCs for Pokemon bc I think it's more of a utopian society and doesn't need to operate on the same logic of economics or politics as irl, but swsh and sv seem more grounded in our reality so I've been thinking about them (especially sv) a LOT. Decided I would just dump all my musings and HCs about the paldean league here if only to organize it all. Also disclaimer that I am not an economist and will never pretend to be so it’s more than likely this system would never work irl but it’s pokemon so it’s fine

The Galarian and Paldean Leagues always struck me as relatively recent, at least in terms of their current operation, and mostly spearheaded by a super ambitious head of operations who restructured the entire place as soon as they got there. I'll talk about Galar in another post, but atm Paldea has my brain in a chokehold so this is all about them

My main HC about the Paldean League is that up until extremely recently (20 years ago give or take I'm not doing specific timelines here) the Paldean League was extremely corrupt and poorly run. When the Paldean empire collapsed, the League was formed as a way to try and maintain the status quo and keep power in the hands of those who previously held it. It was, and continued to be for the next few centuries, an oligarchy. No one in the system was elected, and those in lower positions had to be personally selected and approved by their superiors. There were no checks and balances, so the people at the top could and did maintain power indefinitely. By the time we reached 20~ years before the main story, the structure was as follows:

Chairman: The leader of the entire thing. Has absolute power over everyone else in the system. Does all the boring stuff Top Champion: A battler and figurehead for the public. The "face" of the League, but generally not in charge of anything and has no political power. Their battle with up and coming trainers determines whether they get champion rank ^ If ur thinking this is similar to the Galar League, you'd be correct. They were based off the same model for a while Elite Four: Originally called the Council of Four, they act as a council that makes decisions along with the Chairman and test trainers' worthiness. Typically in charge of a handful of gym leaders Gym Leaders: Local political leaders that operate under the Council of Four and ensure things don't get too rowdy on the town level. In charge of testing trainers, protecting the town from wild threats, keeping up appearances, and union busting (they mostly did that last one) Everyone else: Salary workers. They have not yet unionized

The system, ultimately, was corrupt as hell. There was no job security, and the hierarchical nature of the league ensured you had to suck up to and do the dirty work for your boss if you wanted to get paid at all. Unions? Idk her. Corruption and embezzlement was the name of the game, and Paldea was basically flat broke because of it, with infrastructure decades behind neighboring regions and a bevvy of shitty trainers. The champion, unlike other regions, was not decided by who unseated the current champion. It didn't matter how good someone was, they had to be selected by the chairman to be Top Champion, and the Chairman would only select someone who would work with them without question. Paldea was basically the laughingstock of the world because of their complete and utter incompetence in any and all battle tournaments and lack of advancements in literally every sector. Then shit hit the fan and we moved onto the system we see in-game

I'm not sure what the event was (a recession, investigative journalism, doesn't really matter) but the newfound understanding of just HOW corrupt the league was and the resulting scandal made the Chairman resign and shook the very foundation of the League. Luckily or unluckily, a young upstart politician named Geeta was quick to fill that void, and through a few political loopholes and charisma, she managed to secure herself as Chairwoman. She had long since hated the current Paldean system, thinking that it held her beloved region back from greatness. She had always been gunning for higher and higher positions, a dark horse of Paldean politics with undetermined motives, extreme intelligence, and frightening levels of ambition. The Chairman had always had their eye on her, personally keeping her in check, but when they were gone Geeta immediately seized the opportunity to grab as much power as physically possible. Getting the position made her effectively untouchable, and that was the ultimate goal, because her plan for Paldea was about to make her the single most hated woman in the region's history

Geeta, upon gaining a position where they legally could not get rid of her, decided to fire every single person in the upper echelons of the league. Every gym leader, elite four, and the top champion were all fired, and she withdrew Paldea from every battling tournament and public appearance until she could workshop the league into something servicable. It was the boldest move since the dissolving of the Paldean Monarchy and it did NOT make her any friends

Though her ultimate goal was to reform the entire Paldean league, her early changes were only possible because of the old system. She could and did reform the system to her liking without consequence only because of the old hierarchy system already in place. Her ability to hand select her coworkers and fire people indiscriminately was one of the greatest abuses of power Paldea had ever seen, whether for noble reasons or not, and the people she fired tried to smear her as much as they could. Though these radical steps were necessary to undo and reshape the corruption hellscape the League had become, it wasn't exactly a good look for the new chairwoman (not that she cared)

Geeta also combined the top champion position and chairwoman position, which was so shockingly unpopular and suspicious-looking that she effectively cemented her godawful reputation. She saw the top champion as an unnecessary expense and decided to take on the responsibilities herself so she could funnel the top champion salary into public projects. This is part of the reason why she’s so Bad at being champion: she’s doing it to save the league money and only needs to the absolute bare minimum. Most of her job for the first decade was analyzing the current hierarchy, finding trainers to fill positions, and trying to figure out how to fix things so that would be sustainable after she left and wouldn't fall back into old corruption. She took on a job in the academy schoolboard to keep an eye out for younger trainers, put as much money into research and economic opportunities as possible, then got to work shaping the League to her vision

Her main vision for the league was to make as many parts of the system economically self-sustaining as possible, which was vital for her gym leader choices. She picked people who had *enough* skill in battling, but who all had other careers that would generate interest in and revenue for the gym. Paldea didn't have the pure battling talent yet to make a name for itself on any kind of world stage so Geeta was completely unconcerned about the actual battling skill of her picks as long as they were good enough and making cash. In terms of gym challenges, she mandated that they had to be free or extremely cheap and somehow tied to the town itself-- the giant contraptions of other regions were NOT in the budget. She wanted the gym system to be a celebration of the towns they were in and to inspire people to visit in the same way Galar's stadiums did, all in the hopes that gyms wouldn't need money from the league itself

The gyms would maintain a similar system as before, with each town and gym operating like a smaller independent organization. Most day to day operations and decisions like numbers of workers and salaries would be handled by the gyms themselves, but with all details publicly available so interventions could take place if things got fishy. All revenue generated by the gym would stay within the town-- it would be used to pay salaries, do upkeep, etc, and anything left over could be used to make renovations / add more stuff to gym challenges / support local businesses. If the revenue generated wasn't enough to cover upkeep and salary, the league would fill in the rest

The reason the gym buildings Look Like That is because the old league funneled most of the money into the pockets of the higher-ups and very little was allocated for building gyms. Geeta kept the design bc it's cheap, Paldea is broke, and the uniformity of the gyms allows trainers to find it more easily. it's also convenient if there's a turnover of the position-- no need to build a new gym! It's mostly an administrative office anyway, only there for paperwork and to house office staff, and Geeta is under the (correct) impression that most gym leaders prefer having stages at their favorite places instead of a specific building. Only two gym leaders have strong negative opinions about the building itself: Grusha, who can't have an outdoor reception area because of the snow and hates sitting in the lobby all the time, and Brassius, who thinks it's ugly as shit (he's right) and wants to paint a mural on it

The gym system is actually run much better than it was before-- it's still hitting its stride at the time of the game but is shaping up into a system that will work long after Geeta retires. The gym leaders also like how things are run quite a bit-- they just hate Geeta as a person (but that's smth I plan on exploring in another post)

The Elite Four is something Geeta admittedly hasn't put much thought into: her main focus was on redoing the administrative side of the league and ensuring the gyms were generating enough money to function + helping the towns they were in. The Elite Four, in her mind, were an afterthought, especially since she stripped them of their political power and distributed that power amongst regular office staff. She uncoupled politics from battling in the upper spheres of the league, allowing for more concentrated and specialized attention to issues so the Elite Four could just battle

In the new league, the Elite Four isn't a council of politicians, just people who test the strength of trainers looking to be champion-- every current Elite Four member is an employee in another sector working the job for a bonus (except for Poppy-- her parents are accountants and she ended up in the position as a joke that went a liiiiittle too far). In the future, the Elite Four and Top Champion might be dedicated battlers rather than a side hustle, but Paldea doesn't have the talent nor money for that at the moment

In terms of economics, Geeta decided to set an inflation-adjusted salary rate for each position that was viewable by the public and that couldn't be changed without a public vote in the hopes this would limit corruption. She also redid the League Points system— it used to be how employees were paid, but now it’s mostly for trainers, allowing the league to subsidize common trainer goods and make things easier to buy (all employees are paid with regular money). Paldea doesn’t have designated trainer routes like other regions and cash is far easier to mug than digital currency, so trainers are encouraged to use LP as a precaution so they don’t get robbed while in the Paldean wilds. However because the LP system isn’t very popular and NOT secure, Geeta is debating phasing it out

In the new system, gyms operate mostly on their own, so the central administrative stuff (aka everything that happens in the league building by the academy as well as E4 salaries and whatnot) gets their money from returns on investments— mostly from Tera Orbs. Fees from defeating trainers also helps, but Geeta made sure not to tie it to anyone’s salaries so that they wouldn’t thrash trainers for money, as encouraging them is the whole point of the challenge. Side note about Tera Orbs: once the league got the patent, Geeta didn’t think twice about the professors, being far too busy with Everything Else to think about her old business partner. Not keeping an eye on them is one of her greatest regrets

In terms of future plans, Geeta has already implemented checks and balances on every position but her own. When she’s confident in how the League is progressing and is sure the system won’t fall back into corruption, she plans on turning her own position to an elected one. Geeta isn’t stupid, she knows that everyone hates her and will lose her position as soon as she puts proper checks and balances on it, so she’s waiting until she’s confident in the League’s system to let the rest of the league get rid of her. By that point, she hopes that the League will be organized, financially stable, and balanced enough so that it can run smoothly long after she’s gone. Also, the league is likely to enter back into international batting conferences by the end of the decade, since there’s a LOT of up and coming battling talent that can make Paldea proud (and hopefully bring enough positive attention and money back to the region so they can actually make the league profitable)

To me Paldea’s league always felt like it was in a transition period, building itself from the ground up again. We happen to see it right at the middle, just before it’s really up to a properly functioning and self-sustaining entity. I don’t really have a closer for this but if u read all the way here I’m very flattered and apologize for being a lil delusional about this :)

[kustas]

Seeing the current US protests as well as the current state of the French animation industry and musing about it all. US workers are protesting working conditions, outsourcing and general poor treatment, and the french industry is at a halt from a lack of productions and way too many students entering a small world.

I honestly don't see a way out of the outsourcing thing. People outsource because it's cheap. There are rare cases where foreign money supports animation in another country (Illumination is a good example) but usually it's because of money. Why it's cheaper? Because rich countries find it easy to pay poor country wages than rich country wages. They get workers in places where their local currency is worth a fraction of their native's and subsequently pay them a fraction of what they'd pay a native. This has been the case forever and it's just resulting in the target countries getting better and better at their craft while still getting shit pay, meanwhile outsourcing countries like the US continue and their own workers get less opportunities because of it. I don't see a way to fix this beyond "change entire global economy" (sure) or "legally ban outsourcing" (slippery ass slope there). I'm not an expert but the lack of non commercial studio animation might be why it's such a problem in the US - small teams here don't tend to outsource, but most US animation is made in massive teams comparatively

Lack of productions I don't know if solvable either. You cannot protest for a client to buy you more stuff. I'm not sure where it's coming from given how profitable animation has been as of late but whatever. Ironically, the latest massively watched commissioned animation I've seen on TV, the Olympics opening ceremony, was... made by unpaid students. Having worked on something similar before you don't really have a choice and get treated like magical disposable little hands you can give adult expectations to in a limited time. Students, as we know, are one of the richest demographics in the country, making them the best choice for unpaid labor. Haha...

Poor treatment is very real and worth fighting for, especially in the US where unions have real, tangible power. The wages of workers in this industry are already bad and dip into the ridiculous when you consider outsourcing. There's so many problems in the industry im not gonna list them all but having had a peek in the world of video games and how it's gradually changing there I feel getting loud about it will lead to a better world.

Where I'm worried is that. If you successfully negotiate better pay and better conditions to a boss that just wants to make more money. They'll just outsource shit innit. Why bother working with difficult people who won't cooperate when you can underpay poor asian workers who don't protest your deadlines. Fun world

[worldheadcanons]

hi! could u do romantic + platonic hcs of india, australia, america & canada with a tropical country! reader? 💞

☆ them with a s/o who’s a tropical country!

starring. . . gender neutral, tropical country!reader and india, australia, america, + canada. 

author notes; matthew’s part might be a bit shorter compared to the rest, sorry! here are some songs that i found myself listening to a lot while writing this!

— dogtooth by tyler the creator, the theme from big wave by kaiyo (a little niche but it’s a banger), alcohol free by twice (shows in alfred’s bit oops!), i want you by savage garden, leão de bronze by quinteto ternura, and premier gaou by magic system.

not really a playlist for this piece but songs that i recommend you all listen to! 

> kabir!

— he goes into tourist traps willingly. he wholeheartedly goes into little shops just to get scammed by buying overpriced silly trinkets. kabir just likes having them. you didn’t know this about him at first though, so it worried you in the beginning when he’d come to your country and waste money in various tourist traps. one day you pulled him aside, telling him bluntly that he was throwing money away on useless items. kabir simply laughed, shaking his head. “i know,” he replied, chuckling a bit, “it’s fun though. and i like the cute toys.” ever since then you’ve just let him do as he pleases. occasionally you’ll scoff or roll your eyes as he insists on going into a trap shop. at this, he simply teases that he’s just “supporting your economy” and that you should be happy he’s spending so much money. 

— even as friends, he dotes on you a lot. it’s not very parental, more like a sarcastic older brother type of caring. is your economy okay? need help with resources? kabir will complain about how you’re less mature than he is while working hard to help you fix whatever issues you’re facing. he also makes sure to check on you, the person. you’re more than your country and sometimes you need a reminder of that fact. if you’re ever trying to get out of a work meeting, just give him a call. he’s got the perfect excuses ready for you to use. its just his way of showing his care and appreciation. 

— kabir really enjoys sharing food with you, like seriously. oftentimes for lunch after meetings you’ll bring a bag full of your favorite foods and he’ll do the same. the two of you will switch bags and try out new things. of course, there’s always lunches where someone doesn’t like something. everyone has different tastes. it’s not the end of the world though. eating and talking together has allowed the two of you to get even closer, so the tradition doesn’t end even once you’re in a relationship with kabir. he’ll even get jealous if you offer food to other countries, especially countries like china or england. 

— he has one of the best beach bodies known to man. okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but he is extremely attractive. it’s hard not to feel giddy as he comes out of the changing rooms shirtless with some swim trunks and flip flops. being a long-standing country, kabir has been around for a while and it shows in certain ways. still, he’s hot. he doesn’t hesitate in teasing you for looking at his body. it’s okay, because you can tease him for the same thing! he’s not the type to stare  but trust and believe he’s enjoying the sight of your body the same way you’re enjoying his. 

— he pays attention to the little things, especially when you start talking about your country and your history. you’ll be strolling with kabir, musing about how the coastal city you’re walking in used to be a major trading port maybe two or three centuries ago, and he’s just listening. he may not speak much but he nods his head in acknowledgement. in his eyes, understanding a person's history is vital to understanding the person themselves. that’s not the only thing he pays attention to though. he notices other things like body language too. he notices when another country has said something insensitive to you and he won’t hesitate to step in and stand up for you. kabir also notices when you’re eyeing something in a window of a shop— you can consider it yours, by the way.

— he loves holding your hands and hugging on you. kabir loves to pamper you in public but behind closed doors he’s a complete drama king. he’s not above whining or pouting when he’s mildly upset. if you’re cooking then he’s there, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck while muttering sweet nothings. if you’re reading then he’s in your lap, quietly asking if you’ll read aloud so he can listen. he’s considerably clingy but he’s also considerably charming and cute so he gets a pass.  

> brett kirkland!

— for your first visit to his country he takes you out on a huge aquarium date. the aquarium you go to is of course the sea life sydney aquarium. brett talks a lot during the date, passionately informing you about the marine animals there. when you reach the shark exhibit he decides to take hold of your hand, even if you’re not scared. he sizes up the sharks before turning to you and joking about how he could take them in a fight. or at least, you think he’s joking. you hope kirkland’s joking.. he’s happy to have you in australia, but he’s really happy to be showing you the sea life. it’s something that he figured the both of you could enjoy. your country’s surrounded by water.. his country’s surrounded by water.. it just makes sense. at the end of the date he’ll buy you both souvenirs from the gift shop. for the next date, brett’s thinking whale watching would be fun. 

— when he’s visiting your country, he loves to match outfits with you. he’s used to hotter temperatures so his closet matches your weather for the most part. cheesy matching couple shirts are definitely a thing with him, though if you say no he won’t continue to push it. even if you two have completely different fashion styles, kirkland’ll try to make his outfit coordinate somewhat with yours. it’s just something he finds to be cute.

— brett is the type of boyfriend to call you at one am talking at the speed of light about some sort of incident he’s gotten himself into. he loves calling you when the two of you are apart. hopefully you’re fine with hearing him ramble on the phone about nothing and everything at the same time. he’s also the type of boyfriend to sneak out of work with you, slyly leaving a meeting in london so the two of you can explore around and enjoy each other's company. kirkland takes full responsibility whenever you’re caught in the act, though his mischievous glances at you are a clear sign that you’ll be sneaking out again like rowdy teenagers sometime soon. he’s the type of boyfriend to think of you as the best thing to ever happen to him. he’ll kiss your hand and pretend to be a gentleman, smiling as you laugh at his behavior. 

— he claims that you’re his good luck charm but brett’s just a lucky man in general. occasionally his luck will rub off on you and you’ll call him to talk about it. he likes to say that his love for you is just so strong that even when you’re apart he’s there making things better for you. it’s cheesy but when you walk along your capital city one day and find a large amount of money just barely hiding in the crack of a sidewalk, you really do start to believe it. it’s not logical in the slightest but hey, it’s sweet.

— he is naturally touchy. kirkland has one hand on you at almost all times. especially when it’s the two of you out on a date. what can he say? you’re a catch! he’s sure that if he didn’t hold onto you, someone else would try to steal you away from him. though he’s not easily jealous, he doesn’t enjoy the thought of someone trying to flirt with you. typically he just holds you by the waist. if you’re ever uncomfortable just talk to him about it— brett never wants you to suffer in silence, so trust me when i say he appreciates it when you speak up. he believes firmly in talking about your issues and working through them together. the two of you can find a nice compromise that works for both of you.

— kirkland loves playing on the beach with you! please, please take him out to one of your beaches so he can play volleyball or go surfing or build sandcastles. he’s a pretty outgoing person too, so it’s easy for him to find friends at the beach. if you want to just sit out in the sand and relax, that’s fine with him! he’s not one to sit still for too long but he’ll try to come check on you in between playing on the beach. 

> alfred f. jones!

— he loves going to the beach with you and walking along the beautiful sandy shores that your country is filled with. jones absolutely adores the feeling of the sea breeze hitting his face and running through his hair as he plays beach volleyball or builds sandcastles. the waves are perfect for surfing, an activity he’ll undoubtedly try and partake in. alfred’s no stranger to beaches of course. he has plenty of his own back home. however your beaches are so pretty with such clear water and gorgeous sand almost 100% clear of trash. he’s almost jealous about how well taken care of your beaches are. your citizens seem to care about keeping beaches healthy just as much as you do.

— he gets a ton of tiktoks about food from your country, specifically the fruits. every so often he’ll try to play expert and will grab fruit and eat it raw right off the plant. jones isn’t dumb enough to eat something poisonous, but it’s still a little embarrassing. especially considering no natives of your country actually eat fruit right off the plant. he enjoys eating all sorts of cooked meals that are favorites in your country. he’s not afraid to try new things so if you recommend him something a food, he’ll definitely check it out.

— alfred falls for nearly every single tourist trap he happens to see. though he’s your friend, he’s still technically a tourist to your country. it’s something you failed to notice at first until one day while visiting he left you and came back with an armful of little souvenirs. they were useless and you told him that but he didn’t seem phased. jones told you that he’d treasure them until the day he died. basically, he’d treasure them forever. it was cute so you let it slide that day, but from then on you made a note to keep him away from tourist traps. he’d probably go broke if you didn’t keep an eye on him. the souvenirs alfred did manage to sneak off and buy were used to decorate the personal homes he had around america. they were accompanied by keepsakes from japan, denmark, and a few other places.

— inviting you over to america is a whole different can of worms. really, jones is not sure which state he should show you first— maybe hawaii or cali because they’re somewhat similar to your country.. maybe new york or maybe even florida.. actually no, not florida. never florida. maybe arizona or new mexico (you’ve seen breaking bad, right?) or alaska so that you experience the snow. the decision process isn’t made easier when you comment on going to new york and arizona in the same day. alfred has to explain to you that his country is huge and going to all the states you wanted to see in the same day was simply impossible. there’s a lot of american things he wants to show you as a sort of thank you for showing him your country.

— the two of you make a pretty cute couple as boyfriend and girlfriend. it’s a little jarring at first, since he’s very american and occasionally ignorant on issues concerning your country but jones isn’t above learning to be better. as long as you call him out on his bullshit then he’ll change because really, he does love you. fully and wholly, he loves you. he shows his love when he visits your country and instead of playing on the beach he helps you pick up trash. alfred shows his love when you come to america and he waits at the gate, running and hugging you as soon as he sees you. he shows his love when he takes you to basketball and baseball games and kisses you even when you don’t appear on the kiss cam. 

— jones is obsessed with the drinks from your country. he finds that both the alcoholic and nonalcoholic drinks are delicious. they seem to come in an endless combination of interesting flavors. they always leave him wanting more. when he sees you during breaks in between meetings, he’ll occasionally beg for a sip of what you’re drinking. he’ll ask to ‘waterfall’ from your cup, giving you a strong dose of puppy dog eyes so that you give in. if you manage to stay strong, it’s not the end of the world— alfred will just ask you to bring a drink for him next time. if you give in though, he’ll happily give you a bone crushing hug before tasting some of your drink. ah, so refreshing!

> matthew williams!

— williams really enjoys learning about your local wildlife, especially if you have a species that’s native solely to your country. he’s very invested in wildlife conservation and protection in general, so hearing about the plants and animals that are protected here in your country is pretty cool! he wouldn’t mind visiting a few centers or zoos in general and seeing the animals up close. if you do end up taking him there, be prepared for a lot of picture taking. matthew actually prints out some of the pictures he takes of the two of you together, framing them in his bedroom. it’s nothing big, just a small framed picture or two on his nightstand. in general, he’d bond a lot with you over wildlife conservation.

— you two dress like complete opposites due to the differences in weather. it’s a little jarring when either one of you visits the other’s country because both of you always underestimate the difference in weather. at this point, it would be more productive for you to have two closets— one for home and one for canada. williams doesn’t complain much about the weather even when he’s not properly dressed for it. he just sits and suffers silently until you notice and make him change into something more fitting. 

— he sometimes worries you’d like his brother more than him. i mean.. alfred is the more outgoing one out of the two.. it just feels like you guys are total opposites. you’re a tropical country meanwhile his country is pretty cold.. every so often matthew thinks of the two of you as too different for each other, not really realizing that you two have a decent amount of stuff in common. even if you were complete opposites, opposites attract! you love him just the way he is. you’ll have to remind him of that every so often. give him a good talk and a few kisses to the cheek or a nice hug. he’ll feel just fine after that.

— williams would absolutely love to take you out to go ice skate on a frozen pond or play in the snow. he wants to be the one to introduce you to these things. even if you’ve already been in the snow before.. maybe he could reintroduce this sort of stuff to you. he finds the whole idea of a snow day with you to be romantic.

— stereotypical but please go to a hockey game with him. please please go to a hockey game with him. the first hockey game you go to with matthew is a special event. he makes sure to get you both the best tickets he can. of course, you’re both decked out in merch for the team he roots for (don’t worry about not owning any, he has plenty to share). he even goes as far as to ask for good luck kisses before the match. every time his team scores he cheers his head off before hugging you and thanking you for your luck. even if his team loses, williams is just happy to have gone out with you— though next time he will be asking for two good luck kisses instead of just one. actually, how about a kiss for every member of the team? he’s sure they’ll win then. 

— he definitely enjoys your sunny weather though he’s a bit shy about his body. he doesn’t suffer too badly with his self image, but matthew gets self conscious every now and then. usually this doesn’t hold him back though. once he sees you waiting for him he puts his fears aside. as long as you love him and his body then who cares what someone else thinks? plus it would be improper to keep a lover waiting. especially when you look so good in your swim outfit.. of course he’s joining you in having fun on the beach. 

[arbitrarygreay]

Timeline musings

Was talking about the 1x8 chalkboard timeline with @mimeparadox, and a few things were brought up I found particularly interesting:

There's nearly 30 years between the end of the single World War and the formation of The Hague. In our world, the end of WWI and WW2 both were immediately followed by calls for the world's nations to come together, from the post-WWI ineffective League of Nations to the post-WW2 UN. Why the gap in MFS's world? Some possibilities:

World War was so bad/more destructive that it took 30 years for the nations to rebuild enough to even think about it. This seems highly unlikely, given that MFS's World War was over in a measly 3 years compared to the decades they took in our world. In addition, if the nations were even weaker, then that would make them more amenable to coming to the table, not less, especially if they were getting bullied by the global hegemon to do so.

Which leads to two main branches. Either there wasn't a global hegemon (a more balanced distribution of power globally across more nations) pushing for cooperation, or the global hegemon wasn't interested in pushing for cooperation (as in our world, much of that vision was President Wilson's).

It is very possible that there wasn't a global hegemon, looking again at how short World War was. Which means that, if the Hague was originally Alder's baby, that it therefore took 30 years for Alder to build up the US's global power and alliances to push for it.

If the US did still come out the best after World War, since the western hemisphere's continents still retain that oceanic gap on both sides shield them from fighting on soil, then it means that Alder just didn't see a need to create an entity like The Hague in the early 1900s, but the world changed drastically in the decades after.

This could imply that witch militaries remained a US-only thing until after World War. Perhaps World War, a thing that Alder squished from decades into a mere three years (preventing all of the associated destruction), is what pushed the rest of the world to finally form their own. If geopolitics then played out normally like that, when we would have a nightmare world of witches slaughtering each other on civilians' command. There would obviously then be reason to start fostering international collaboration. I think that this is very plausible, because why wouldn't Alder be horrified by aforementioned witch armies slaughtering each other for the centuries before then? Implying therefore that it wasn't happening.

Something else is that one of the big duties of The Hague is the regulation and enforcement of Canon. Or, which Works are war crimes. The ones Alder reminisced on in 2x9 perhaps were some of the inciting events for her to pursue the creation of The Hague and Canon. One variation of this is that Alder likely had a US Canon already, and it wasn't until The Hague that she could make that sort of regulation international.

Another aspect about the single World War, and nothing listed between that and the formation of The Hague, is the status of the Great Depression. Because while, theoretically, witches should not have influence on the civilian material incentives that would have led to the Roaring 20s and the Depression, the thing is that the Depression is the material incentive that led into World War 2. So, not only did the existence of the US witch military squash the length of WW1 into 3 years, somehow it played watchdog on the economy as well, to prevent any depression/recession that did happen from being so globally severe that led to another World War. Perhaps, though, there were enough low-level conflicts (that the witch military also quelled) that it whetted global appetites for the creation of The Hague.

[happyk44]

It should've been weirder.

That was the ongoing thought that ran through his head the last few days. It should've been weirder.

New Rome and Camp Jupiter tried to be as self-sustaining as they could, but it wasn't like they could completely cut themselves off from the rest of civilization. They had needs to provide for. Ceres' children operated a small farm just outside the city and they would sell vegetables year round. It wasn't much but it helped bolster their economy. Other than that, they were very lucky to receive subsidies from the gods to help.

The benefits of having all their children stuck in one place, Jason guessed.

At first, he didn't know why Pluto stopped sending them money though. Sure, they still had assistance from the others but Pluto was the god of wealth. His assistance was far greater than what the others could, and did, provide.

But for whatever reason they had been unceremoniously dumped out of the god's good graces and were floundering. Maintenance supplies were running thin. The farm wasn't producing as well as it normally was in the blanket heat wave that was going on.

Training had decreased with the need to maintain limited supplies. The god also provided precious metals to craft and repair armour and weapons.

Vulcan had been suggested to appeal to until one of the older members of the Senate noted that Vulcan also tended to gain most of his crafting supplies from his uncle.

So they were screwed. It was one thing to ask for help from a god. It was another thing to ask for help from Pluto. Sure, he was wealth and everything under the earth but he was also the dead and darkness. Inviting one had the risk of bringing upon the other.

But, when push came to shove, they were not wimpy Greeks. They wouldn't fear him and avoid him. They would invoke him if they had to.

They would request help.

And they did.

At a cost.

The god had appeared when summoned, papers clutched in his hands, eyes dark and angry. He was tall and lithe. Black robes dripped off him like shadows. His wrists shone with golden bracelets. An obsidian chain hung loose around his neck, glinting a soft silver flower pendant against the hollow of his throat.

Power hung in the air. It was overwhelming, catching around Jason's head like a fog. Everyone else in the area was affected too, knees shaking.

Death and money and power - unending, weren't they?

For a moment, Jason wondered if his father was really the most powerful god. Or if he had sentenced his oldest brother to the deepest depths to maintain that lie?

Pluto glowered at them all but heard them out. And merely shrugged when they asked for him to resume his help.

"Why should I?" he had mused. He eyed them all slow. "I assisted in the past because I had stake in this place. My children, my wife's children - do you see them around you now?"

Pluto never had many kids to begin with. His last child died about a decade before in the middle of a rescue mission. And while Proserpina tended to have one or two demigods per lifetime, her current daughter was her only living mortal child.

And she had finished out her service with the legion weeks ago but chose to attend a university outside the city. Somewhere closer to her mortal father.

It was unclear if she ever intended to return for anything more than a passing visit.

"If Claire so chooses to return, perhaps I will continue my help but until that time, I have no interest or need to do so." He clicked his tongue. "Is that understood?"

It was.

Unfortunately.

"And if Claire doesn't return?" Reyna cleared her throat. "No offense to any other deity, all your help is appreciated, but you, Lord Pluto, have been much better at providing funding. We cannot make up the sudden slack on our own and we have tried these last few weeks."

“We're not greedy” was the hidden meaning behind her words.

"If your economy is dependent on one source, especially a source that can come and go as it pleases, it's not much of an effective economy, now is it? Perhaps you should have set aside savings for this exact problem." His eyes caught Reyna's.

It took her a moment before she relented and averted her gaze. "You provided my children and step-children with a safe haven and I thank you for that. But you don't do so now so I have no need to thank you anymore. Perhaps you will have to beg for heartier help from your own parents' and ancestors', rather than pull me from my work and demand mine without any offer of reciprocity."

“We did plan on offering you our services, Lord Pluto,” Octavian lied, because, no, they hadn’t. “But if there anything else we may offer you, we would be grateful to.”

Pluto regarded him like a bug. “Legacy of that blasted sun.” He rolled his eyes. “Just as annoying as he is, I see.” Octavian’s face flushed a dark red. His pale skin looked as though it had been heavily bruised.

“Your ancestor has one thing going for him that I appreciate though.” His eyes cut into Octavian’s, a sardonic curl to his lips. “He’s honest."

He didn’t want to but Jason was on track for praetorship and what good of a leader would he be if he left a member of his legion floundering?

“Forgive him, my lord,” he cut in, stepping forward. The god’s attention mercifully snapped to him. “As prophet, I assume he saw us offering you something in the near future and simply misjudged the timing.”

The cynical glint to the god’s face didn’t vanish but amusement plied on top of it. A chill slid down Jason’s spine.

“My little brother’s latest brat,” he hummed. Jason startled at the degradation but found, oddly, he didn’t mind it. Pluto raked his gaze over Jason’s form. A sensation of being pervaded, picked apart, hit him.

The god was looking too deep.

Jason wanted to hide himself, his soul, but stood firm and unrelenting.

“I suppose she’ll be fine with it,” Pluto said, voice quiet as though talking to himself. “And he’s been annoying lately.” He cut his focus back to Reyna.

“Well, praetor. I’ll take him.” He gestured loosely at Jason.

Reyna blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“The boy,” Pluto said. ”Don’t make me repeat myself again.” A silver shadow snapped up from beneath his robes and curled around Jason’s jaw, pinching his cheeks. “Yes, I have a fondness for collecting my brother’s children, I suppose you could say.

"One way or another, most of them end up with me. It’s been a while since one came down while living.” The shadow slunk around Jason’s throat. A light grip held against his skin. Coldness bit into his chest, spreading. “And I can see you’ll adjust well, as my wife and her siblings have.”

Panic was breaking out over Reyna’s face. Even Octavian looked baffled - although that was probably more because he didn’t understand why Jason was picked over him.

“Uh, my lord, Jason is-” Reyna gestured weakly into the air. “He’s the ongoing leader of the Fifth Cohort. And his assistance in many of our quests has been in-”

“I don’t care,” Pluto said. “My wife prefers when I keep company during the summer. Mercury has been rather avoidant of late so you’ll have to do.”

Company? “I’m fourteen,” Jason said. The words pretty much leapt out of his mouth without his noticing.

Pluto snorted. The coldness spread even more. “And?”

Reyna’s voice was hard. “He is not an adult - even by the standards of our predecessors!”

"He's a powerful soldier. Age is irrelevant." Pluto barely even looked at her. “Do you want my help or not?”

Her eyes went sharp, her stance tightening. Jason could hear the denial before she even said it. He didn’t give her a chance. “Okay.”

Her head whipped to him, viciously. Octavian glared at him. “Jason-”

“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s just company, right? But-” He rolled his shoulder. “-if I’m needed here, I have to come back. Even if only temporarily.”

“I’ll have each situation that requires you thoroughly vetted then,” Pluto said. “But fine, little demigod. I’ll have Charon pick you up in a week. Be ready. I don’t take to waiting well.”

The shadows vanished but the coldness that had been dipped thick into his chest didn’t. And with that, the god left.

And Jason started packing the moment they returned to the barracks.

It should’ve been weirder. It should’ve felt odd, standing at Terminus’s gate with a packed bag, waiting for the boatman of the Underworld to descend him into the depths of the Underworld and into Pluto’s arms. As it was, it didn’t. Not really.

His life consisted of being raised by wolves and being thrown into godly quests for the sake of both his home and his family. This was nothing by those standards. He did hope “company” was just going to be that, company, and wasn’t a secret euphemism.

If it was, he wasn’t saying jack shit though. Reyna and the whole of his cohort would no doubt go wage war on the god if it was. There were some things that were supposed to be left far, //far// in the past. And some of that shouldn't have existed in the first place.

But the god was known for being unlike the rest of his family, was known for being soberminded. Jason doubted he was being dragged down for his ass. Pluto had said Mercury was being avoidant. Perhaps Jason was going to have to pick up the slack.

"Relax, young Grace," Terminus snapped. His marble shuddered. "I can feel your bad vibes from here."

"I am relaxed," he grumbled.

Reyna scowled at him. She wasn't happy about this. But he didn't let her argue him. Best to stay appealing to the god. When they all died one day, it was he they would be sent to.

None of them needed a mark against them during judgement.

"Don't, Reyna," he grumbled. "Showing favouritism isn't becoming of a praetor."

"It's not favouritism," she said. He rolled his eyes. "I worry. What could a god whose wife is absent want with a fourteen year old boy?"

"My father kidnapped a prince while his wife was still present." Jason scratched at a mosquito bite just above his wrist. "So I think why I'm wanted is irrelevant to whether Proserpina is around or not." Her scowl deepened. "He's not going to do anything to me."

"You don't know that," she muttered.

Terminus heaved out a gravely sigh. "As much as you may find his ongoing puberty changes appealing, Reyna, I assure you that a god such as Pluto does not."

Jason didn't know whether to be offended or not. Reyna looked as though she was calculating the best way to shatter Terminus's face.

"They're not that bad."

"Your voice has cracked at least twelve times since you got here." Terminus sniffed. "It's very annoying. Do it another three to even it out."

Now it was Jason's turn to scowl. "I'm not going to crack my voice just to satisfy your OCD."

"Well, you did it anyway." Jason wondered what the god would do if he smacked him over the head with his bag.

Unfortunately, he didn't get much time to deliberate. A few feet away, the earth rumbled and a figure ascended from the grass and dirt, displacing it all.

Terminus squawked in a rage. "Hey, hey, hey! I just had that spot measured!"

Charon, the boatman of the Underworld, was dressed in a shimmering golden suit. In his left hand was a long obsidian boat paddle. He laid it to rest across his shoulders, head cocked as he took the three of them in. A classy black fedora sat atop his head. Somehow, the brim shielded most of his face from view, but Jason could see the flat line of his lips thin even further.

"Terminus," he said, his voice a near deep growl. "I see your haptics are still ongoing."

"I see your haptics are still ongoing as well."

Charon's shadowed lips curled. "Must look our best to those awaiting passage, mustn't we? But I wouldn't expect a simple headstone to know that."

"Headstone?" Terminus snapped. “Simple?”

Charon ignored him. "Jason Grace, I presume."

Despite Reyna's nervous gaze, Jason stepped forward. The strap of his bag was cutting into his skin as he clenched his hand tight. "Yes."

"Well?" Charon stretched out a gloved hand. "Shall we?"

Jason sent Reyna a fleeting smile and accepted the god's hand. A coldness wrapped all around him like a death shroud and everything vanished into an inky blackness.

They didn't hit the waiting area as Jason was expecting. Instead the darkness shifted to reveal a garden of jewels and gems. Rubies hung from tall poplar trees like apples. Petals of amethyst and topaz glittered from the dark earth below.

Populated between all the shimmering were asphodels and poppies and coveted patches of sweet-smelling lavender. The garden seemed to go on forever, but as he turned around, he came face-to-face with a wide open door.

Charon's empty eyes bore back at him.

His white teeth, pure as fresh bone, smiled back in the most spine-chilling way. He gestured in through the doorway. Instincts roaring at him to avoid, Jason stepped through anyway. The hallway was lit with black flames.

Shades meandered meaninglessly past him and through the walls. A skeletal guard stood across from the doorway.

"This way!" Charon shouted.

Unsettled, Jason followed. They walked past sullen doorways before reaching the end of the hall.

Charon opened the door with a click. Inside the room was brightly lit.

It was a bathroom. Of sorts. It reminded him somewhat of the communal baths at camp and the Wolf House but smaller. Tighter. It smelled sweet, warm fragrances alight in the air.

In the center was a large circular tub. Maybe three people could fit comfortably inside. Devoid of water, the bone white porcelain tiles glittered back at him.

Charon stepped inside, pressing an intercom button against the wall. He gestured for Jason to come in with a nod of his head then yanked him in forcefully when Jason took too long.

"Daisy, he's here." He released the button before another word could be spoken then walked out the doorway. The door slammed shut behind him.

Jitters drew up Jason's throat. He drew himself across the room before settling down on the floor. The door didn't detract from his focus. The air shifted against his skin. Someone was skipping their way to the room.

He tensed as the door swung back open. A nymph stood in front of him now. A crown of asphodels littered her hair. Wreathed around her neck was a choker of diamonds and poppies.

She was dressed in a thick black sweater, long sweatpants and a bone-white apron. Her feet were dirtied and bare.

She snapped her fingers. A series of shades flooded the room. One yanked Jason's bag from his fingertips. Another began pulling him up to his feet. As the tap turned on, the rest began pouring liquids into the bath and pulling out a bunch of supplies out of the nearby cabinets.

"Let's get you scrubbed up," Daisy clipped while the shades tugged at his clothes.

Being naked in front of other people was not a big issue for him. But the act of having himself stripped down for another, without any sense of warning, was not ideal.

"Hey- WAIT-" He slapped at a shade grabbing at his jeans. His hand just sank through their filmy form. "I can do it myself!"

The shade chattered angrily but pulled back. Quickly, Jason shed the rest of his clothes himself. The shade took them and handed them off to Daisy who scowled. “Do you ever clean these?” She sniffed it and shook her head. “Nope!”

“Wha-” A shade shoved him into the tub.

As he resurfaced, coughing and spluttering, he caught sight of Daisy pulling back a piece of floor. He pushed up to see what was below. Shifting red hot flames howled beneath the floor. Then she dumped his clothes into it and closed it back up.

“Hey!”

“The Phlegethon is the only place for those,” she said. “You’ll be fine with what I give you.”

Panic smacked him. “The Phlegethon?”

“How else do you think we heat the place?” She snapped her fingers again. “Somebody grab me a razor. His hair makes me want to vomit.”

Protectively, he sank back to the middle of the tub, hands covering his head. “I just got it cut!”

“Do I look like I give a shit?” A splattering of vined daisies shot out from her fingertips and yanked him back over to her. “Whoever did this was terrible at it. Absolutely disgustingly uneven. I might as well surface and slap them until they perish like they deserve.”

“That’s not-”

“Shut up.”

His shoulders tightened at the order. He resisted the urge to snarl and snap her, going quiet as she threaded her thin fingers through his hair. The razor tickled the back of his neck. Another shade approached him from the front with a pair of scissors. He closed his eyes.

Listening hollowly to the sounds around them, he held himself tight and still.

He was never all that good at getting his hair cut. It required too much trust in someone with something very sharp and deadly and Lupa’s training had instilled in him a general distaste of that.

Which is why he’d started cutting his hair himself. Reyna or Dakota would neaten the sides for him. Quick and precise. Usually while he was biting something to avoid from biting them. It only took a few seconds but it was hell.

A few of the kids Lupa trained had that sort of distrust of people outside their “pack”. Especially if she trained them young, like she had trained Jason. Although she rarely trained kids that young to begin with. Usually only because their families had died or had abandoned them.

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 23

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

By the time the tour of Altissa and the sights were complete, Y/N was drenched in sweat and their legs felt heavy against the material of the clothes they wore. They couldn’t help but feel some resentment toward Tuti for picking out their evening attire. It didn’t mesh well with the warm and humid climate Accordo was well known for. The rest of the experience however was quite enlightening. Tuti seemed to be enjoying herself as well. Y/N found it amusing how childlike she became throughout the venture. 

Y/N lost count of the various cafes, markets, and even gondola rides they took while under the wing of The Serpent Society; a powerful faction of Accordo socialites who held great reverence for the legendary Leviathan, and Accordo’s governmental powers. Many in the group were known for being generous benefactors of the local economy, and while Accordo may not have had the strong military might that Niflheim and Lucis had, the country had both nations beat when it came to finances. Y/N couldn’t help but muse that if Ardyn had a small team of these guys to help him budget, he’d never have to see another bill in his life.

Unlike the High Imperials of Niflheim, Y/N noted these folks were quite welcoming. While not warm, and certainly cautious at times, they didn’t look down upon Y/N. If anything, Y/N got the impression most were afraid of them due to the association with Ardyn. The thought hurt Y/N while they interacted with the various men and women of the group. They couldn’t help but wonder if the connections they were building were superficial. It was more than likely the case, but despite their feelings, Y/N counted their blessings they didn’t have to deal with someone like Jessica Rubios among the flock. The image of the haughty woman getting too personal with Ardyn at the Imperial Banquet had them grimace from time to time. Fortunately, the thoughts ceased when one of the men pointed out Y/N appearing uncomfortable. 

After the tour was complete and the party retreated to their private residence near a cluster of waterfalls, Y/N went through what Ardyn and they had rehearsed. They smiled and laughed alongside everyone while making jabs at Lucis. It pained Y/N to lace their words with venom toward their homeland, but they stuck to the script. No deviation could be afforded as Ardyn had stressed in the past. While nothing would be done in a single day, the seeds of doubt toward Niflheim's archrival had been sown. Y/N had no doubt the majority of the Serpents would think twice before supporting the Lucian economy in any fashion through their own. 

“While this has been quite a show, I do believe our luncheon will be ready soon! We should all head toward the dining room and be seated.” A man named Ketyr announced. 

The conversation of politics quickly turned into a competition of who was the most hungry as Y/N and the others rose to their feet within the lounge. 

“Y/N!” Tuti approached from the direction the group was heading toward. She panted some after reaching Y/N’s side. “I can’t believe I neglected to ask you this earlier! Do you have any food sensitivities the chef should be aware of? Accordo is known for incorporating herbs into their cuisine that can upset the stomach if you haven’t been accustomed!” 

How the hell am I supposed to know? It’s my first time in Accordo… Y/N thought to themself. 

“Sweet dear, it’ll be fine!” 

Y/N felt they must’ve hesitated for too long, for Betrys D’bhara answered on their behalf. 

Betrys was a woman of forty two who could easily pass for someone in their fifties. Y/N attributed this to the loss Betrys endured. They had come to find out during the tour that she had married twice. One husband died during war with Niflheim, and the other was lost to sickness. Whether it was the scourge or not was anyone’s guess. Despite her older appearance, she had very kind eyes that were the color of fresh soil, and high cheekbones that were softened by dimples and wavy shoulder length blond hair. 

“You need not fret on behalf of your charge! We have staff on standby to help should anyone have a reaction. Would you mind if I stole Y/N for a moment?” Betrys smiled. 

“O-of course! Silly me!” Tuti gave her respects to both Betrys and Y/N before scampering off to further aid the personal staff of the Serpents. 

Betrys grinned, sighing in relief as she focused her attention onto Y/N. “She’s quite charming, your Imperial Help. A bit of a ditz, but I can tell she admires you.” 

“I think that’s what helped her get this far.” Y/N mused, smiling while Betrys chuckled at the remark. 

Y/N looked ahead, seeing most of the group was far away now. Before they could say anything about it, Betrys gestured with her left arm in dismissal. 

“Unlike Higher Imperials, we tend to take a more lax approach in Altissa. There’s no need for rushing around. Besides, I heard a mutual friend of ours was interested in a tomb.” 

How the hell did she know…? Y/N assumed the shock on their features must’ve been too telling, for Betrys’s grin widened more, seemingly trying to hide a laugh that wanted to escape her mouth. 

“Walk with me, Y/N.” Betrys offered her right arm to Y/N’s left. The latter hesitated at first before accepting, and then the two walked side by side while admiring the scenery outside the open windows. 

“I know you must’ve been asked a thousand times already, but how are you liking Altissa?” 

“It’s quite beautiful,” Y/N admitted. “It’s not as cold as Niflheim, and there’s few places in Lucis where you get waterscapes this vast. I loved the tour by the way. Even though I admit I’m boiling hot in these garbs.”  

Betrys laughed. “I can have my staff fetch you some other clothes that fit the climate after we eat.”

“I don’t want to impose--”

“Please, consider it a welcome gift to our shores.” Betrys let out a breath, furrowing her brows while still smiling. “It’s a shame you’ve come to our country under your circumstances, but I must say its refreshing to speak with a Lucian about the war versus another Imperial like my cousin.” 

“Your cousin?”

“You may know of her. She’s a Higher Imperial, once known as Jessica D’Bhara but she since took on the name Rubios after marrying.” 

Speak of the devil… Y/N bit the inside of their cheek at hearing the name. They didn’t realize their muscles had visibly tensed until Betrys had nonverbally pointed it out with a raised brow.

“Are you alright?” 

“My apologies,” Y/N sighed. “I know Jessica. I’ve met her a few times but never had the pleasure of her full company.” 

They swallowed upon realizing the disdain in their voice must’ve been too blatant despite sugar coating their words with formality. Y/N lost count of the onslaught of curses they mentally gave themself. There was no way Betrys would divulge anything further. Not when there was malice being thrown at kin. Before the image of Ardyn looking pissed off could fully be fleshed out in mind, Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted. 

“You can relax. Between you, me and the six, I don’t much care for her myself.” Betrys grinned, giving a reassuring pat to Y/N with her free arm. 

“But she’s family.” 

“She’s a twat.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly bulged out. The blunt proclamation made it hard to keep a straight face, as did the contagious laughter Betrys had unleashed. It was so loud that there was no doubt the others could pick up on the cackles. 

“I didn’t realize there was animosity.” Was the only remark Y/N felt appropriate to respond with. They felt relieved when her antics died down. Saving them the trouble of trying to remain poised. 

“Long story short, Jessica’s side of the family immigrated to Niflheim decades ago to seek greener pastures. I’d soon move to the swamps of Duscae than live under full Imperial rule, but that’s just me. No offense.” 

“None taken.” Y/N snorted. 

“Anyhow,” Betrys cleared her throat. “Her and I still keep in touch for the sake of family business. I don’t hold love for her as a person. I take it she’s tested your wits?” 

“Among other things,” Y/N admitted. 

“Do tell!” 

“Is that appropriate?” 

Betrys smiled. “Nothing about our conversation is, especially the piece regarding your Chancellor. Might as well make the most of it.” 

Y/N smirked slightly at the comment. Despite the full disclosure Betrys offered, Y/N thought it best to not to say too much given they barely knew one another. They reminded themself of their debut night, and how some of their first impressions didn't go well. The last thing Y/N wanted, was to scare Betrys off. 

“I last saw Jessica at the Imperial Banquet. She kept jabbing at my Lucian roots, and wouldn’t leave Chancellor Izunia be for a good portion of the event. Since my debut, she’s had it out for me whenever I’ve had to interact in public gatherings.” 

“What a tramp!” Betrys grimaced, not having a care in the world if anyone else heard her vulgarity. She ignored the appalled looks some of the staff gave in passing. “Even with a good husband that practically sucks her toes, it’s never enough!” 

Y/N raised a brow. “Pardon?” 

“Jessica fancies Chancellor Izunia. You should see the texts she sends to me about him! I admit he’s a handsome fellow in a peculiar light, but no matter how powerful he is among the hierarchy, I wouldn’t leave someone loyal to moonlight with him.” 

Y/N felt a sensation of butterflies in the pit of their stomach. The flighty feeling ached as did the way their pulse felt heavy. It was hard to swallow, and Y/N couldn’t tell if they were saddened or angry at what Betrys confided. 

Get over yourself… It took Y/N much willpower to redirect the conversation, focusing on what Ardyn wanted them to obtain from this experience. 

“Forgive me for changing subject,” Y/N started, clearing their throat. “How did you know Chancellor Izunia was interested in the tomb?” 

Betrys chuckled, and knowingly gazed upon Y/N. “There’s nothing to forgive! I’m one of Accordo’s finest patrons of archaeology. I have connections to the Altissian Prehistory Association. Chancellor Izunia is well aware of that, being an enthusiast and a collector himself of Solheim and Ancient Lucian artifacts. Him and I have traded historical information quite extensively over the years.” 

Y/N recalled some of the old texts and materials Ardyn had in his library back home. They remembered trying to make sense of it, but nothing came to mind. When Betrys mentioned Solheim, it all began to click as to why Y/N either couldn’t read certain books or had difficulty placing the date of paintings he had on display. They also wondered how much Betrys really knew about Ardyn; if she had any inkling about his past given that it sounded like he indulged her curiosity quite often.

“I mean,” Y/N snapped themself back into the conversation. “How did you know to approach me about it?” 

“Call it a woman's intuition,” Betrys mused with a laugh before she sighed, deciding not to play coy. “My honest answer? A little birdy of mine heard about it in passing, when Chancellor Izunia and Madam Secretary went to the House of the Courts. Knowing that his guest, you, were coming to our luncheon, I deduced he must’ve sent you to gather information because he’d have no time to pay me a visit.”

“Does that offend you?” 

Betrys’s smile couldn’t get any wider as she sighed contently, giving a bow to some staff that walked past Y/N and her before she continued. 

“Somewhat, but let me preface that I am not upset with your role in this. He’s a busy man as much as I am a busy woman. However, I’m growing tired of this relationship being one sided. You see, he hasn’t given me much in return the last couple exchanges. I’m generous with my intel, but I do draw a line in the sand considering I don't wish to lose face with the Prehistory Association. I’m curious what kind of offers he’s told you to sell to me.” 

Y/N could feel their blood freezing for a moment. Like with Madam Secretary, Ardyn didn’t give them any kind of advice as to how to win Betrys’s good graces. He especially neglected to share what kind of history he had with this older woman. It made Y/N wonder what else he was hiding regarding her. Their face grew warm at the latter thought. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer to you.” 

“That’s unfortunate. Does your Chancellor have any brothers?” 

Y/N did a double take, and nervously chuckled at the suggestive cadence. 

“None that are alive.” Y/N murmured as Betrys laughed. “Why do you ask?”

“That’s a pity. Regarding the tomb, it’s located off the coast of a small island near Avem. I haven’t sent too many expedition scouts over there, but the Prehistory Association will be excavating soon. If your Chancellor wants first pickings, he needs to act fast. I doubt he’ll be able to charm his way through once the officials arrive. Not to mention Lucian reps of the monarchy wanting to reclaim their ancestor once the discovery goes public.”

“I appreciate you being so forthcoming, but what does this have to do with Chancellor Izunia having brothers?” 

“Would you say Chancellor Izunia is a gentleman who honors his word?” 

The delightful grin of a smirk that Betrys demonstrated had goosebumps travel up Y/N’s arm. 

“In a manner of speaking, yeah. I’d agree to that he is. I’m afraid though, I’m not following what you’re driving at.” Y/N replied, slightly biting their tongue. It was as if Betrys was plotting something humorously sinister, and their curiosity couldn’t help but want to take the bait. 

“I’d like for your Chancellor to treat me to a night out in exchange for what I’ve shared with you. It’s the least he owes me. Not to mention it would feel vindictive rubbing it in Jessica’s face. If she were to also find out you had a hand in the arrangement, I don’t believe she would be too keen on messing with you anymore. Hells, she may even try suckering up to your good nature to get close to him!” 

Y/N felt their face blushing and could scare believe the plot Betrys laid out so casually. “And the brother remark was just…?” 

“I forget you weren’t brought up in the lifestyle I or Jessica had been molded to. In polite society, if I were to ask for the hand of a sibling in exchange for information, it would be an insult to both Chancellor Izunia and Jessica in the same breath. It’s a power play of sorts. Letting Jessica be aware that I can court who I please while she can’t, and it lets Chancellor Izunia be aware of the fact that I can use someone close against him at a later time should he try avoiding me in the future.” 

“Oh,” It didn’t really make sense to Y/N, why people would go out of their way to pull off schemes such as the one Betrys mentioned; but it was as the older woman stated: this wasn’t the life Y/N had grown up into. This further made the knots in Y/N’s stomach grow, not helping the anger that radiated in their chest. 

“I suppose I can relay this to him.” Y/N murmured. “He’s not really social outside of politics.” 

“I’m aware,” Betrys grinned for a moment. “Embarrassing him in public for sending a third party to speak on his behalf is the main reason why I want to do this. Aside from helping you get Jessica off your back.” 

“I know you have your qualms with Jessica, but why help me?” 

“Because I know you like Chancellor Izunia more than you let on.” 

Betrys stopped both herself and Y/N from proceeding any further. The older woman’s eyes studied Y/N with consideration, as if trying to be certain of her own thoughts. She smiled when having caught the glimmer of light in Y/N’s eyes that gave everything and nothing away. 

 “Don’t worry, it’s our little secret.” 

“There’s nothing to hide.” Y/N said in their defense, trying to downplay the accusation. 

“Oh, I’m sure there isn’t.” Betrys slyly remarked. “I assure you I won’t get frisky with the him when he pays his dues. Anyway, lets enjoy our lunch, hmm?” 

Y/N didn’t know if they wanted to scream at the top of their lungs and run away, or curse Betrys out. Neither option was wise, and so they bit back their tongue and proceeded with the socialite to the dining room. 

The meal was quite pleasant, and after having their fill of exotic dishes and other treats, Y/N felt calmer. They wondered if perhaps their negative behavior regarding Ardyn, Jessica, and Betrys was due to not having eaten anything for most of the day. Regardless, the conversation with Betrys nerved them still. She gave no reason to indicate contempt, and Y/N counted their stars. Betrys was civil throughout the luncheon, and Y/N allowed themself to let go of whatever ill feelings remained. 

After the luncheon, the party retreated to one of the decks outside of the main building to enjoy the waterfalls and lush greenery. Y/N was once again speaking with Betrys and some other folks, getting in depth about their opinion on Niflheim entertainment versus what Lucis offered. A joke was made at some point by Ketyr, and everyone including Y/N laughed at it. Suddenly, all noise began to recede and the only thing Y/N could register was the sound of a thousand voices screeching behind their skull. 

Y/N’s throat seized, and they shot up from their seat and bolted to the edge of the deck. Leaning part of their body forward, they violently hacked and coughed scourge and bile. Their world began to open to something bigger than itself. 

In lightning flashes, Y/N was hauled away by an angry mob of hundreds. Their body was being pelted with rocks and rotten food, and their skin bubbled while being scorched under the rays of the sun. The blows barely put a dent into the heavy weight that lay upon Y/N’s heart. Terror and sadness had no place in their mind, for they were numb and tired. So tired.   In the distance, Y/N could see and hear people bound in chains pleading for mercy to be shown. Many were silenced as ancient crownsguard struck down whoever spoke out of turn. Blood and sweat intermingled in the thick air, and Y/N wanted to throw up but their body hadn’t the strength. Y/N knew they should’ve felt enraged, they should’ve felt something, but they were paralyzed as if incapable of attachment. That is, until they saw the mangled body of a black chocobo. The name of the creature was fuzzy, but they knew this was a lifelong friend. One of the last tethers keeping them bound to their love for Eos.     Y/N’s heart shattered into a million fragments as they were further dragged down the street. Men paraded with the avian’s head on a stick, desecrating the once living creature and whatever was left of Y/N’s compassion. They let out the most unholy scream, somehow their body burst with energy as they rose to their feet to attack the men. All hell broke loose, before they were dogpiled and thrown to the back of a wagon. The dark haired man Y/N had fought before--the one who slain Aera, Somnus--approached with a remorseful expression. He raised a mythril based staff up high, and slammed it into Y/N's left leg. They could hear their bones shatter against their eardrums as their entire limb felt as if broken glass had entombed it.    "I'm sorry...Ardyn." 

Before the situation could play out any further, time shifted yet again. Faces came and went. Y/N could see Aera dying in their arms, playing in a field with a young Somnus, fishing with Aera when she was a child, and a host of other memories rampage over their mind. Good and bad. Intimate and terrifying. It was as if their brain was a computer, attempting to download a whole other life into it's blueprint, and it so badly wanted to explode. 

Y/N’s consciousness managed to swim to the surface, only to be drowned out by Ardyn’s various points of view. The jolt of being pulled away from the edge of the deck, accompanied by a searing burn to their right shoulder, roped Y/N back to reality. 

“Y/N!” Tuti raised her voice in a harsh whisper, giving their shoulders a shake. “Y/N! Are you okay?” 

“Tuti?”

Y/N grimaced from her touch, retreating their right arm away. The pain grew worse. 

“Y/N, I have a napkin. Here,” Tuti whispered as she handed the cloth to them. “Cover the lower half of your face. The scourge veins are showing! Keep your head down and face into the napkin, I’ll lead us out and call upon Loqui to come fetch us!” 

“Good gracious, is everything alright?” 

Y/N could hear the concern in Betrys voice from behind as Tuti shielded them away from the curious onlookers. 

“A thousand apologies,” Tuti began, doing her best not to give away her own fears as she addressed the Serpents. She then started to lie through her teeth. “Y/N is still recovering from a recent hospital visit in Niflheim. I think they had too much excitement today and it’s caught up with them!” 

“Should we call upon a medical servicer?” Betrys worriedly asked. 

“That won’t be necessary! I think some rest will do the trick!” Tuti chirped, trying best to downplay the severity of what was going on. 

“It’s probably for the best,” One of the Serpents interrupted. Both Betrys and Tuti were visibly confused at the look of fright that plagued the older gentleman's features. “I received word from a messenger that the House of the Courts has been attacked. From what is known, the officials are sheltering in place. We are to do the same. I think it's best if you take Y/N back to your lodging and wait for word from Chancellor Izunia."

“R-right away!” Tuti exclaimed. She quickly performed her complimentary bows of leave. “T-thank you all so much for your kind hospitality on behalf of Y/N and myself! We’ll be in touch!” 

“There’s a vehicle prepared for you at front with one of your soldiers awaiting. Please do be careful and notify us when you reach safety!” Ketyr exclaimed.

“We will!” Tuti hollered as she ushered Y/N off the deck and away from the group with haste. 

It wasn’t long until Y/N was in the car, and they once more coughed violently into the napkin amid tears streaming down their eyes. The scourge was violently constricting against their entire nervous system. It felt like a snake taking its time to suffocate its meal before consumption. Although no wound had shown itself, Y/N's arm felt like it was melting away. 

“What happened to Y/N?!” Loqui shouted from the passenger seat as he gestured for the driver to speed up. 

“They got sick from the food being served! I assure you they’ll be fine!” Tuti swallowed, doing her part to comfort Y/N, all the while hide from Loqui what was truly going on. She never in her life felt so nervous before. Her heart pounded.

“Lieutenant Tummelt, do you know what’s going on?” Tuti whispered and brushed some strands of hair out of Y/N’s face. She wiped away at the sweat that pooled on their skin. 

“From what I know, it was an assassination attempt.” The driver said. He swallowed nervously at the glare Loqui gave, and decided it was best to let his superior do the talking while he drove. 

“Protestors tried to deal a blow to the Chancellor and Accordo officials in protest to the recent negotiations between our countries. Chancellor Izunia was wounded, but he's stable from what I've heard." 

“What?” Y/N struggled to breath out, and started coughing again. 

“Shhh,” Tuti coaxed Y/N to lay back and press their head to the cool window, all the while still keeping their face low and shielded. 

“While our men and Accordian soldiers round up the trespassers, we need to stay low and wait for the Chancellor to give further command.” Loqui firmly finished his thought. His eyes glanced to side mirror of the car, and he caught a glimpse of Y/N through it. He furrowed his brows, and did a double take. Eyes widening in shock, Loqui turned around in the seat, only to see Y/N covering their mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N managed to choke out. 

Loqui blinked a few times, seeing that their eye color was normal and not the abyssal black and gold that stared at him seconds ago. He chalked it up to his nerves being fired off, and offered a smile. 

“Nothing to worry about,” Loqui shook his head, and once more faced forward in his seat. “Rest up back there with Tuti. I’ll keep you guys safe.” 

Y/N’s entire body shuddered. Turning their attention to the window, they watched as buildings blurred past their vision to the speed of the car. A flurry of storm clouds drifted over the area. Y/N found it ironic how the weather seemed to match what they felt inside. The soft pitter patter of rain began to dance upon the car roof. 

As they drove closer to the heart of the capitol, Y/N could see the House of the Courts from afar. If there was one time Y/N wished telepathy were possible, this would be it. Despite the agony they faced, Y/N thought about the bleedthrough and wondered if Ardyn was truly alright.