#asked and answered 231

[away-ward]

Interesting! Some posts by PD on their FB group, from the pastinfound these days from X / Twitter

link: https://x. com/dearreadrr/status/1755958608171597855?s=61 (delete space between x. And /)

conversation from the link was about readers asking PD about what other pairing could happen, and some excerpt from PD i copy pasted from those links:

Pen Douglas

Michael and Banks. All day. It would be so hilarious. And Damon and Kai. He would soooo mess up Kai's clothes

And

Damon and Michael. I never got a vibe from Damon and Emory, but their connection is for life. Definitely.

2. Admin

Pen Douglas • 4 Oct 2022 •

Just a silly convo I wrote

***

Damon: I mean, I know we don't get along, but I do care about you.

Misha: You don't care about anything you can't screw.

Damon: And...?

Misha: 😳

Kai: 🤦🏻😆

Misha: I hate you. I've always hated you.

Damon: That hurts. Because I really love you. I mean, if we were stranded in the wilderness--and you were cold--I would warm you.

Will: 🤣

Damon: With my body.

Misha: Shut. Up.

Damon: And if I were dead and you were starving out there, Ikd want you to eat me

And i saw another extra that i forgot where i got:

Banks: Fine. I'll ask Kai if he wants to go, too.

Michael: No. Just you.

Banks: *laughs* | trust him around her. Now anyway. You don't trust her?

Michael: Of course I do. I just don't trust where my mind is going to go imagining you three alone in the dark together. Just make it a girls night.

Banks: I've been alone in the dark with her, too, you know?

Michael: Fuck.

(My note: wtf, so michael was always insecure when they're together? Wtf! So this wasn't new huh)

another one with Damon, Will and Emory, damon likes to spoil her. Again like PD said, their connection was for life, this too wasn't new. Wow, i think PD really already thought this out huh:

Pen Douglas • PenDragons-Penelope

Douglas Reader Group

Will: No. We do not need more chandeliers.

Emmy: 😥 But...

Damon: Ohhhhh, 70% off. *walks in store*

Emmy: 😊 *follows*

Will: 🙄

last one about readers complaining about why people hate emory and pd and someone else replied!

link: https://x. com/jurdandrew/status/1449132149894959107?s=61

(Delete space between x. And /)

conversation goes like this:

PenDragons-Penelope Douglas

Reader Group

Kétsia Mendes • 4h •

•••

Post: Emory Scott is definitely my fav character from Devil's Night. I don't understand why some people don't like her.

And I think she's almost a female version of Damon Torrance.

PD's reply:

Pen Douglas

Administrador

Many people had general problems with all of the heroines. We'll see the same thing in Hellbent. The double standard.

Or worse...the "Aro is so much better than Dylan" or "Tommy is the best girl" as if there's some competition between these women. It was one of the hardest things too see happen with Devil's Night.

But luckily, most understand Emory was at the survival level in high school and Will wasn't owed anything. Thankfully, her heart came around and she finally fought for him. 💕 I loved that SHE proposed. 😆 One of my favorite scenes. Will was so dang cute. Lol

another reader reply:

Donna Lynn Glushien

I didn't like her at first because Will is such a sweetheart to her and she treated him like dirt. But how she was, really added to her character.. and now I appreciate Emory a lot more. Love how strong and independent she is 💪🏼

original poster replied and quoted:

Kétsia Mendes Autor

Donna Lynn Glushien She explained why she treated him like "dirt" in chapter 29:

"Part of me resisted you because I didn't want to bring you into my horrible life," she told me. "I was embarrassed and full of anger and without hope. I couldn't give you anything."

I tipped my chin up, remaining silent.

"But a part of me also resisted you because I feared I'd just be trading one abuse for another," she explained. "How you coerced me, pushed me, wouldn't leave me alone when I told you to... Tried to scare me."

And PD liked OP's comment:

Pen Douglas reagiu ao seu comentário: "Donna Lynn Glushien

She explained why..."

There's ANOTHER surge of emory-hating video on tiktok too, and i think they probably didin't read thoroughly because they missed a lot of things that were going on in the text but luckily, that side of DN readers always are ride or die for emory!

link : 483 likes, 97 comments, ninguém é obrigado a gostar de ninguém e cada um tem opiniões diferentes 🤙🏻 https://vt. tiktok.com/ZSFFowdLU/ (delete space between t. And tiktok)

sometimes, i think some dn readers really don't have any critical thinking skills because they only read what they see, and even then, they don't read fully, as if they were just skimming. How are they gonna believe everything that damon and will said when damon likes to alter reality and mindfuck people, while will lies to everybody but emmy? Even damon and alex never knew his full story, AND their his best friends. And only for will to admit a couple times that emmy was right and he was just lying to convince himself he was right because he was prideful, arrogant, selfish, self-centered and spoiled? Like, if he admitted his flaws to be better, why can't these readers? And the thing that they're mad at her was not even because she was prideful, scared or a bit cowardly (like she admitted in her pov about her approach to her love life and will) but because she was caring for her grandma? 🤡 wtaf? Crazy!

some discourse happened too about will and her years of gone too:

https://x. com/raybanks/status/1755907408629485937?s=61 remove space between x. And /)

idk why but if pd can write all these headcanons about rika, banks, michael, kai, winter, will and damon, why is there nothing for emory? And it was half-assed too? I get that idea doesn't come easy, but still?

just wanted to share.

Heyy thanks for sharing! This was all very interesting to go through.

Thanks for putting the links together.

First, PD passing Damon around, and Damon literally wanting to sleep with everyone (except Emory apparently… which is so weird because he did say “it certainly wouldn’t be a chore” like…?) is kinda funny in that PD is exactly like the fandom in thinking Damon is like next level.

I still maintain that will would be the best lay. Damon said he's selfish and doesn't always keep his promises where that is concerned. why are they all lined up for him? We all know he only follows through for winter.

But at the same time my heart is like “Oh… so Emory is safe, right? No weird mash-ups?” And based on PD saying Michael and Banks and then following it was Damon and Kai, I can’t help but think it’s because those pairs have issues. Like they don’t really get along right off the bat, so there’s all this tension… which Emory doesn’t really have with anyone. So maybe that’s one reason why we never get HC with Emory. Because she’s just out there, being cute and not really causing any problems with anyone? Maybe??? I don’t know…

But it’s also weird that PD’s just like “Damon with Kai, Damon with Will, Damon with Misha, Damon with Michael… but I haven’t thought about Damon and Emory before.” Keeping in mind that Rika and Banks are the only other girls in the group besides his wife and they’re his sisters. If it weren’t for that fact alone, I really do think they’d be thrown into the mix.

And again… PD has thought about it before because they wrote Damon suggesting it. Like how have neither of them ever revisited that when the whole family is built on who Damon wants to have sex with, apparently? I’m laughing so hard on the inside because this all seems very…convenient.

Damon hassling Misha is fun. I can see it. Will and Misha are more like brothers, and we saw Will hassling Trevor in Corrupt. I think it’s probably a natural thing for them to annoy their best friend’s younger sibling. Now, if only Michael would stop trying to have sex with his best friend's little sisters...

As for the Michael and Banks convo, I didn’t read that as insecure. I read that as he didn’t want to be thinking about what the three of them would get up to alone when he could be there because he’d get turned on… and not be there. Such torture.

But gah.  They’re annoying.

Why would Will try to limit how many chandeliers Emmy has? I assume she would have a warehouse when she and Damon keep supplies for jobs. It’s not like she’s filling every inch of her ceiling with them. That’s just dumb design. So if she wants to have her collection of chandeliers, let her?

And of course, Damon has to spoil her. This is extra irritating because I went back and checked the tampon scene that PD wrote, and they ended it with “Damon probably went in and got them”

Like. I don’t try to defend PD’s portrayal of willemmy anymore. Obviously, I just don’t get it. But it would be impossible to do so when Will is constantly telling Emory she can’t have something or he won’t get her something, and then Damon goes and saves the day.

I feel like we get it, already. Damon is everyone’s everything, and Rika is the star of the show.

I also loved that Emory proposed to Will, and that he didn’t make a big deal about wanting to be the one to do it. But the thing about the favorites is… people are going to have favorites. That’s alright. People aren’t going to love every character on the page.

The reason there is a competition between the Devil’s Night girls is because they were in a competition for page time. It’s the most common complaint I see is that when we were supposed to be learning about Banks, Rika came in and made the scene about her. When we were supposed to be reading about Emory, Alex came in and made the scene about her. PD wrote the girls competing for time on the page and the reader's attention. Logically, the readers have a preference, and they will be jealous for their character. And since the series is what it is and there’s no changing it, of course that means readers are going to bash the character they didn’t want to read about who “stole” time from their favorite.

None of the girls had to be in competition. And I don’t think they are in canon. But PD definitely made it difficult to root equally for all of them when they weren’t all treated the same.

At least some readers are starting to see Emory more clearly, but I feel there will always be a bit of Emory hate. She’s really not given the same level of consideration from PD. Some readers do have a double standard when it comes to the girls, but it’s not always the case. Some readers just want the girls to be given equal amounts of attention across the series.

It’s not lost on me that Rika and Alex are the ones pitted against Banks and Emory the most. The fact is that Rika and Alex were developed during the first book when it was originally a stand-alone and not a series, so Banks and Emory often feel like an afterthought when the other two come around. That’s an issue with the writing, not the reader. And I’m not going to hold PD to the fire over it; writers will always have limits in their abilities. PD did the best they could at the time. But can we stop placing all the blame on how the readers are interrupting it and accept that somewhere along the line the author didn’t execute this in the best way possible? It's nothing to threaten PD over, but at least stop blaming the readers for being frustrated and championing one girl over the others.

And the tiktok… wow. But I can’t say I haven’t heard it before. It’s so strange how some readers are willing to hold Emory accountable for Will’s actions and not Will.

But as they said… we all have our own opinions.

And only for will to admit a couple times that emmy was right and he was just lying to convince himself he was right because he was prideful, arrogant, selfish, self-centered and spoiled? Like, if he admitted his flaws to be better, why can't these readers?

It really is weird, isn’t?

And the final bit of the discourse, not entirely sure what the post meant, but I feel like it relates to a post I made a few weeks back. Will wasn’t mad at Emory for leaving. He was going to let her go and live with the regret of what he did, even though it hurt. He wasn’t ever going to chase her down or seek revenge until he learned that she lied to him and about him.

His anger was never about Emory leaving. It was the lies and (what he saw as) betrayal.

Head canons really don’t come all that easy unless you’re obsessed and constantly thinking about even the most mundane things about a character. There has to be a little insanity around them for it to get that deep.

Again, I don’t really understand PD all that much, but if I had to guess… the boys started it all, and Damon is their favorite. So HC for them is easy. Rika was developed in Corrupt and came soon after the boys, so again, there was a lot of time to be a little obsessed. Banks and Winter aren’t mentioned nearly as much as those first, but still Banks more than Winter, but never without one of the boys or Rika.

I haven’t seen a winter hc or scene other than the alternative scene to KS.

I think the lack of Emory is just that PD was done with the series and the negative side of the fandom by the time they got to NF. If it’s true that they pushed NF out right after KS, then they might not have even had time to be obsessed with Emory.

This is a good or bad thing, depending on how you look at it. Sure, Emory has much less content and readers who favor other characters will find her an easy target. But the bonus of liking an unpopular character is that you’re free to do what you want, because nobody’s watching that character.

Nobody’s watching Emory’s fans. Let’s have fun.

-KO

[dapurinthos]

doing some file sifting, found this:

ah. happy birthday galaxies you are now 231 050 words old, not including all the google docs, the miscellaneous text files, and the research section.

[badolmen]

Hello...I'm Mona from Gaza, I'mhousewife, my family consist of 5 people contains 3 children under 14years old .Now we live in a tent because we lost our house in the war.

Can you donate for me to rebuild my house and preserve my children lives and support me financially to evacuatefromGaza.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/donate-to-help-monas-famil-to-evacuate-from-gaza?utm_campaign=man_ss_icons&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link&attribution_id=sl%3A90393b18-b06f-40d9-a9da-289f907deb26

Followers, this campaign is currently unvetted.

Donate at the GFM link here at your discretion.

[forcebookish]

Hello...I'm Mona from Gaza, I'mhousewife, my family consist of 5 people contains 3 children under 14years old .Now we live in a tent because we lost our house in the war.

Can you donate for me to rebuild my house and preserve my children lives and support me financially to evacuatefromGaza.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/donate-to-help-monas-famil-to-evacuate-from-gaza?utm_campaign=man_ss_icons&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link&attribution_id=sl%3A90393b18-b06f-40d9-a9da-289f907deb26

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #253 )✅️

hello, mona! i'm so sorry for what you and your children have had to face. i personally can't donate, but i hope i can help by sharing.

LOW ON FUNDS! HELP MONA AND HER CHILDREN SURVIVE THE WAR IN GAZA

you can see where this campaign has been vetted here.

be safe!

[mossy-bonez]

In an effort to get more minds on the number silly straw I am going to make this it’s own post.

So here we go.

I solved the other three yesterday at around 1:46

Green

Caesar Cipher, +3

Hbh grfwru ri d ghliihuhqw nlqg/ zkr zdqwv wr pdnh klv sdwlhqw eolqg

Translation

Eye doctor of a different kind

Who wants to make his patients blind

Yellow

Caesar Cipher, +3

Lxvvb hdwhu/ edeb eloob/ zrxogq’w gulqn/ zqohvv lwv vloob

Translation

Fussy Eater

Baby Billy

Wouldn’t Drink

Unless Its Silly

Purple

Caesar Cipher, -3

Qeb alzqlo pxvp/ qeobb pfmp x axv/ tfii jxhb qeb sfpflkp/ dl xtxv

Translates

The Doctor Says

Three Sips A Day

Will Make The Visions

Go Away

Red

So we know what those ones say, I however don’t have a fucking clue what the fuck is going on with red. Now I will admit that I have less knowledge on number based codes, so maybe I’m just stupid, but. I have been trying to crake this on and off all day yesterday.

So here are the numbers.

215 858 117 450 110 628 19 211 120 2265 216 951 25 256 27 532 212 506 18 1317 110 1137 221. 658 23 1330 210 231 118 929 112 2043

Now my first thought was A1Z26… but that can’t work because there is a 50 in here twice actually. So A1Z26 didn’t work.

Now I am bad at number codes so I went to my friend and they suggested Hex, and I tried that and nope mostly undefined, then I asked the same friend again and they said maybe Polybus Square, but I pointed out that these sets of numbers are set up in groups more than 2, so that was a bust. So I showed it to my fiancé, who just taught a summer class based on escape room, and thus taught kids about a shit ton of different ciphers and codes, some I told them about but others they new about already and some they had found researching for the class, so I thought that they may have an idea as to what it might be. And they took a cursory glance at it looked up some of the numbers, not all of them mind you, and said that they were area codes, and those of larger cities, both in and out of the US. And I was happy to have an answer, didn’t know how I would be able to use this to answer the code but I had something, so I went through and… not all of them were area codes, it actually broke down quite quickly, see they had checked the first 3 and then moved to look at some of the later ones that were different lengths and the “221. 658” group thinking it was a decimal and then told me that it seemed like all of them were area codes. Now we were back at square one. So I have no fucking clue where to go now.

[yoohyeon]

Here’s the various spreadsheet of vetted gfm :

Gaza vetters : list

Olive Branch : list

Gaza evacuation : list

Bees and watermelon : list

Butterfly effect : list

Other post of fvnraisers in the here! | I’m the same person @/juvian, so I won’t answer asks there only on here (and will reblog on both)

Here’s some people that who reach out to me (as of December 9th 2024) :

@emanalmadhoun8 : vetted by association - 5 935$ USD / 25 000$ USD

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@90-ghost : i have to include his family, Ahmed has been an enormous help vetting families, but we have to remember his family also need help - here’s multiple donation link - Thank you 💚

PLEASE REBLOG ! And donate if you can !!!

[stabbyfoxandrew]

hello!! Happy Wednesday!! Can we get some arson Neil?

WIP Wednesday (9/18) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 231)

It's easy for Andrew to relax once Aaron and Katelyn do. It's like they fully expected a wild animal to come charging into their home. And they're just realizing Andrew is merely a man. A man who used to be medicated out of his mind and who acted a bit like a wild animal… but Andrew digresses. And makes pleasant conversation, even pretending to take an interest in Katelyn's family when she brings them up.

Aaron looks pleased as punch beside him. Like he can't keep the smile off his face. It's almost reminiscent of Andrew's own face throughout college, unnerving to say the least. Andrew keeps having to look away from him. He finishes his food last, but the others don't complain. But Katelyn offers to get him seconds as soon as he places the last bite in his mouth. Andrew politely declines and Aaron takes their plates back into the kitchen, leaving them alone for a moment.

"Oh, you like hot chocolate, don't you?" Katelyn asks suddenly.

"Yeah."

"I'll make us all some to go with the cake!" She says, getting up to go into the kitchen. She and Aaron return together a minute later, with no cake or hot chocolate in sight. When Katelyn notices Andrew’s slightly disappointed look, she smiles. "I make mine on the stove like my grandma taught me. It takes a little longer, but it’s the best, I promise."

"I'll be the judge of that, Katherine," slips out of Andrew’s mouth before he can stop it. Katelyn makes a face and Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Katherine?"

"That's your name in my head. Anything with a 'K' works actually," Andrew answers, making Aaron blow air. "It was a slip of the tongue. Excuse me."

"It's quite alright, Adam." Katelyn says, taking him by surprise. Aaron looks over at her with a pleading expression but Katelyn just shrugs. "That's your name in my head. Anything with an 'A' works though."

Andrew feels his mouth quirk in amusement. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. Anything but Aaron. Because ya know, that one's taken, Alvin."

"Alvin?" Andrew parrots back. "As in The Chipmunks?"

"No, as in your name. Alvin." Katelyn says with a smirk. Andrew stares at her for a moment, wondering if she's serious. If they're the same kind of petty. He wonders exactly how many names she has for him. If she has more than Andrew.

"Guys," Aaron says, holding his hands out. "Listen, don't start. Just pretend it didn't happen. Okay?"

"Why would we do that when Karen has called me a rodent's name?" Andrew asks, almost offended by the curve of Katelyn’s lips. Aaron slumps in his seat with a sigh.

"I could call you Alphonse." Katelyn offers.

"I could call you Kelly." Andrew counters.

Katelyn leans over the table a bit. "Or Alexander."

"Kimberly."

"Alfred."

"Kayla."

"Anthony."

"Kendall."

"Adrian."

[lemurious]

[sic semper, part ii]

part I is here. also now on AO3.

in memory of the execution of camille desmoulins on this day, 231 years ago.

[this one's for robespierre.]

“Tear the house apart and sow the ground with salt. Something of the sort, anyway. Should I light the candles?”

Robespierre hasn't noticed the visitor entering his room.

He raises his eyes from the desk, a report from the Rhine lying next to yet another denunciation, suddenly realizing that he doesn’t remember the name nor the accusation. One day too late, he thinks, no crumpets of heroism in the shared tumbler for this petty criminal.

He has just finished a detailed, painstaking explanation of setting the price of wheat, in the conscientious script of Lindet, who had haughtily refused them a signature just a few days ago. Robespierre doesn’t have the privilege to refuse his own.

“Crowds always yell this, it’s a popular curse. Did they, were there any –“

Robespierre stops himself in time.

Their last words will be recorded, or invented, little distinction between the two, and some no-name publisher will make a brief fortune that will be decidedly ignored by the Committee. Unless Collot is around. How Collot must hate the guillotine for depriving him of the spectacle of drawn-out deaths.  

Saint-Just nods, once, and doesn’t answer.

“I asked for dinner to be sent up,” he says instead.

At least one of them occasionally remembers having a body that needs food.

“There’s more work to be done.”

Saint-Just walks to the window, stands very still, the cut of his dark jacket resembling a paper silhouette, the white cuffs framing his hands that are gripping the windowsill.

The night is never truly quiet, but its sounds have merged into an indistinct rumble, like the sea, and now they have to navigate it by sheer force of will, because they have just sunk the rudder and the anchor both.

It is not a sensible thought.

The last time Robespierre looked up, the afternoon was jarring, intrusive, with the wind whipping the branches outside and the last calls of the crowd receding in the distance. This darkness feels foreign. He assumes there must’ve been an evening, and at some point, even a sunset.

“You know,” Saint-Just continues, his voice low and measured. “If the crowd had decided to rush the tumblers, there was nothing we could've done.”

“The guards?”

“Nowhere near sufficient. The escort is barely more than a formality, these days.”

Robespierre stands up from his chair, feeling the cramps in his muscles, a not entirely welcome reminder that he is, still, alive.

“Do you think they saw it too?”

It is a casual question, just this side of rhetoric.

Danton. Camille. They'd spent the last five years in front of the crowds.

“They had to, Maxime,” Saint-Just doesn’t turn around. “Should we count it as the verdict of the people?”

“Give the people a few years. It's dangerous, this power without education.”

“Do we have the years?”

It’s Robespierre’s turn to ignore a question. Any answer would be an expression of either hope or uncertainty, and there’s no time for either.

“To think that they had five hundred years of a republic, in Rome, before it fell apart,” he says instead. “I don’t know if ours will survive even in writing. Or who we could trust to be the Cicero of our time.”

“It will. If you write it.”

“Says the man who wrote the Constitution.”

“Says the man who lives it. And Cicero was wrong, anyway. Quo usque tandem abutere patientia nostra?”

“Calling me a Catiline?”

The fabric under his fingers is soft, almost worn through; the fit of the jacket remains impeccable, but the cloth is beginning to give away after too many all-night sessions at the club, the deliberations at the Committee to follow. None of them are sleeping, these days.

“Sallust would. Listen: we are battling for country, for freedom, for life; theirs is a futile contest, to uphold the power of a few men. Does this not fit our revolution?"

Saint-Just leans into the touch, turns his head, there are circles under his eyes, a trace of a permanent frown, and triumph in the smile that follows.

Robespierre considers giving in, retreating before the night is over, but it’s soothing to be speaking of Rome, when their disagreements, such as they might be, are purely theoretical, and Saint-Just, as always, keeps him standing.

“Catiline was going to put Rome to fire and sword,” Robespierre states calmly.

“And what will the mobs say about what we are doing to Paris? No need to wait for two thousand years, twenty will suffice.”

“Antoine –“

One could deny this, extol their Republic, call on virtue and on terror both. Robespierre does neither. The fortune is too fickle to be swayed by one and frightened by the other.

“And still it would not be reason enough to stop.”

Their hands find each other, in the shadow cast by the lantern.

“March on, therefore, with the greater courage, mindful of your former valor,” Saint-Just whispers, and neither of them has to be reminded that Catiline’s head was brought to the Senate in a box.

“Last stands and desperate charges, is that our currency now?”

It’s a long time before Saint-Just speaks again. The wind is rising again, and they lean into each other for warmth.

“It might be the currency, but what we buy with it is our future. More than a fair trade, I’d say.”

Robespierre knows that the desperation will return, and with a vengeance, but for a fleeting moment, for the first time today, he can imagine there being a tomorrow at all.

[habitsbf]

hi, I really like your account and you always post very interesting things! I would have loved to ask you to explain the seven trials of Habit because since am very new to everymanhybrid and i just cant understand it and i know that it probably plays a big part in the lore

(Sorry if this dosent makes sense i cant really write in english so i used google translation)

AHHH YAY IM GLAD YA THINK SO :D EverymanHYBRID is a pretty confusing series to get into. theres a LOT going on in it and im more than happy to help you understand better!! ALSO SORRY THIS RESPONSE IS SO LATE </333 ive been kind of out of it lately, but im back now!! i can only go so long without posting about HABIT...

the seven trials of HABIT is a tournament that HABIT hosted a couple years ago. everyone involved in the tournament was assigned a new name under "Rabbit #XXX" and 231 participants were accepted into the trials. this included ryan (rabbit #001) who was the first one eliminated, jeff (rabbit #002), evan (rabbit #003), vinny (rabbit #004), and at the time jeff told alex that he forbidden from joining the trials, but alex ignored jeffs warning and joined anyways under rabbit #231. the other participants were viewers at the time who could join via email, but not everyone who sent in an application was accepted into the tournament.

HABIT eventually created his own Twitter account (SEVENTRIALS) and officially welcomed all the rabbits to the tournament. he then divided them all into 3 groups: angora, english lop, and netherland dwarf, which are all breeds of rabbit. the groups were divided by numbers, 1-77 were angoras, 78-154 were english lops, and 155-231 were netherland dwarfs. each group was set to hold 77 members (its clear the number 7 is important to HABIT for some reason, it appears a lot here)

what is the purpose in all this? what is the purpose of the trials? well you see, we dont know exactly. theres been multiple speculations surrounding the purpose and we dont have a real canon verified answer for it.

one thing i would like to mention is a lot of what takes place in the trials matches up to how cults function. a lot of cults require their members to do things that will strip the members of their former lives in order to make them ready for a new path. im gonna list a few examples ↓

TRIAL ONE: the rabbits had film themselves burying a cherished item of their choice.

"LEAVE YOUR LOVED ONE BEHIND."

they had to part with a beloved possession that was important to them in some way. im not sure what jeff buried, but i know evan buried the prettiest knife he had, vinny buried his special edition of ocarina of time, and alex buried a bullet he shot with his dad.

"I REALIZE YOU MAY HAVE LIVES. THAT IS UNFORTUNATE. AND WILL CHANGE."

TRIAL TWO: when congratulating the rabbits who successfully passed trial one, HABIT says "GREAT, YOUVE BURIED SOMETHING. ALL YOU HAVE DONE IS LOST ONE MORE THING THAT MAKES YOU HUMAN."

TRIAL THREE: the rabbits have to lose a friend "BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY."

"DO NOT TELL THEM WHY YOU ARE DOING THIS. BLAME IT ON THEM."

the rabbits dont even get to go by their own names, which is required in some cults. some cults make their members change their names as a way to sever ties with their past identity.

whenever the rabbits do something, he wants them to state and make it known "HABIT MADE ME DO IT."

HABIT hasnt said anything about this publicly, but HAS addressed it in 2 private chats he had with some of the rabbits. in the first conversation HABIT stated the purpose of the trials was simply "BODY COUNT", but in the other conversation HABIT stated the trials would come to and end when the last rabbit was eliminated, regardless of whether he had reached the seventh trial.

ALRIGHT THATS ALL IM GONNA LIST i definitely left some details out, but i just wanted to go over the gist of it and give a decent amount of info since this post was getting too long. if i listed every single thing that took place within the trials, this post wouldve been SUPER MASSIVE 😭 buuut if youre still curious about anything, feel free to shoot an ask my way :D

[lulublack90]

Prompt 27 - Answer

@wolfstarmicrofic January 27, word count 231

Opposite - Question

Remus waited patiently for Sirius to unfreeze. He’d heard his heart skip a beat and then start stuttering. James had taken Remus aside the other day and told him that Sirius wanted to ask him out but was struggling to do it. So, they came up with a plan for Remus to do it instead. James and Peter made sure they would be out of the way. They had been very obvious, walking up and down the corridors with the dung bombs, and it still took over half an hour before Filch finally realised what they had in their hands. 

So Remus had asked and was now waiting for Sirius’s answer. He watched him while he waited. Watched his mouth open and close slowly, nothing coming out. 

Finally, Sirius blinked hard, and he nodded. 

“Yes—Yes. Please, yes. I’d like that—yes.” His answer came out choppy and inelegant, but Remus didn’t care. He only cared about Sirius. 

“Perfect.” Remus smiled kindly at him, and then, just because he wanted to, he carefully took hold of Sirius’s hand and stroked circles into his knuckles. To his utter joy, Sirius looked up at him through his long eyelashes and smiled a sweet, shy smile. One Remus had never seen before. He hadn’t thought it would be possible to be any more gone for Sirius than he already was. But he’d been wrong.

[away-ward]

"

Why would Will try to limit how many chandeliers Emmy has? I assume she would have a warehouse when she and Damon keep supplies for jobs. It’s not like she’s filling every inch of her ceiling with them. That’s just dumb design. So if she wants to have her collection of chandeliers, let her?

And of course, Damon has to spoil her. This is extra irritating because I went back and checked the tampon scene that PD wrote, and they ended it with “Damon probably went in and got them”

Like. I don’t try to defend PD’s portrayal of willemmy anymore. Obviously, I just don’t get it. But it would be impossible to do so when Will is constantly telling Emory she can’t have something or he won’t get her something, and then Damon goes and saves the day.

I feel like we get it, already. Damon is everyone’s everything, and Rika is the star of the show." - your response to my anon post of all those extras from PD

I FUCKING KNOW RIGHT!!! And it really doesn't make sense at all that Will wouldn't buy Em another chandelier because LITERALLY IN FIRE NIGHT he said something like "i'm not gonna stop giving emmy what she wants" when she wanted to play with him so??????? PD is so- god, how can someone be this contradictory and frustrating?

At this point, i believe PD's the kind of author who likes to write books with weird-out-of-nowhere shock factors, but they don't know how to wrap them up well. That's why they kept on writing things that don't make sense. I feel like they're the kind of people who likes to do weird dramatic things (and write them too) and then they don't think their consequences will catch up to them, example: they're surprised when people don't get their connection and their expression because they didn't notice that THEY were the ones who were bad at explaining things, or just plainly never explained them well in the first place, with any coherence. Literally reading PD's books felt like an acid trip, being gaslighted by the author, only for the author to be like "heyyyy, no no no" but the text was "yes yes yes", like jumping through hoops just to get a point, and still not making it. But the author, of course, with their cult readers would be like "nooo it makes sense, you just don't get it" when literally those points they said still don't? Make? Sense? Just because they FEEL something, not because they THINK something. The last time i felt gaslighted by an author like PD was with Sarah J Maas' ACOTAR & TOG series, and it wasn't a good time, AT ALL. Author kept on contradicting what she wrote, and acting like readers are stupid or silly. I hate to be put in this position because i feel like these kinds of authors don't respect readers enough to trust us with their craft so not only they butchered their own story, even when we have out own underrstanding according to what THEY wrote, we're still wrong, just because we don't "FEEL" like they did. WTAF!

interesting point too, because wasn't Damon Torrance like this? His characterisation was literally just edgy Shock factor all the time, with no coherence, always being in the centre when unneeded, then he yaps yaps yaps, womp womp, acting like he has a point, but then the outcome of his plans, words, thoughts and actions that we read and we see were always so fucking poor. The reality of Damon Torrance did not match up with the rumour of Damon Torrance. Personally, I think what Damon lacked was GIRTH, he got a a dick, but does he have the girth? Absolutely not. He talks so much for someone who does nothing, and i hate these kinds of characters in fiction the most. Like if i can name one character who had girth, it's most likely Victor from Vicious by V.E. Schwab. That guy did have big dick energy. Didn't have to be overhyped by anyone, because Schwab took her time to craft and execute his character well on page. Damon was so icky to me because he was talking bigger than he can chew. Like No wonder he's PD's fav, like they both just don't make sense in a way? God, i sound so condescending, but i see more of their similarities now. And another example is Kaleb and Tiernan from Credence, again, horny rich fragile blonde blue eyes who can do no wrong, with edgy borderline abusive dark haired guy who got no personality than being edgy and wanting to paint the town red. The fact that Credence too was super fucking weird, and surprise surprise, Kaleb (the main LI) was so similar to Damon in his characterisation, even though there was no sense to hold on to that main pairing. Like??? Wtf? Tiernan could end up with the two other characters, but PD still chose Kaleb for her?

idk man, these careless way of crafting their own stories really made me lose some respect for certain authors. I understand it can happen to anyone, but damn, surely not too much? Especially the willemmy chandelier and tampon extras? It doesn't make sense! Will Grayson would never, he went out of his way to research about emmy's jewish fasting culture, but can't buy her tampons or chandeliers? Like did PD really think he was shallow like that? This man who hanged out with banks and choose to pick her bras? Wtf? No way would she be ashamed of that. Especially when it's so important to emmy. And the fact that he doesn't know emmy had vibrators? Ok now lets be fucking for real 🙄 PD really just dgaf about willemmy.

Right. PD’s treatment of Will reminds me of when TV characters eventually become a caricature of themselves the longer the series goes on. The Will PD is currently writing doesn't seem to reflect the Will that was in NF at all, and reminds me of how I thought the Will in NF and the Will in the rest of the series were two different characters because they didn’t match at all.

PD definitely likes to use a shock factor, and I guess most people read the books for that alone. There’s relatively few who are still stuck on them and who are also bothered by the lack of story development or follow through. Like, obviously I can sit through crazy, up and down plot lines, and stories that go back and forth, and plots that take a while to develop, but it has to go somewhere eventually.

And trust me, I suck at wrapping up my own long stories. Conclusions are hard. Keeping characters consistent isn’t easy. But I’m not asking for money, so I feel less bad about my skill level.

Damon was built up quite a bit, and for me, he didn’t hit. I, too, felt he was all talk and no bite. The more PD plays with his character, making him everyone’s everything, the less interested I am in him. I still stand-by that his book should have gone last and his redemption arc should have been the final climax of the series. Damon in NF feels so sterile. He’s so clean, nothing he does can scare me because I already know where his story goes. I want the scary side back, I want him to be exclusive to a few people. I want people to die curious about him. It wouldn’t have mattered how contradictory his character was if some of the mystery surrounding him remained in the end.

The reality of Damon Torrance did not match up with the rumour of Damon Torrance.

Again, this is more of a writing issue than anything else. It’s like that post from a few days back that talks about having your characters come up with a genius plan means… having to plot a genius plan yourself. It’s not easy when you’re not a genius and don’t have a writing team. IMO, the biggest issue was that people in-universe were supposed to hate Damon and be scared of him, but PD couldn’t hate Damon because they (and through Rika) sympathized with him too much, so he got watered down to be more palatable. Fan reaction doesn’t really factor much, because most readers these days will eat up any old “morally gray” or “amoral” character as long as he’s hot enough.

Cannot comment on Victor because I haven’t read Vicious, but I believe you. But your point here:

Didn't have to be overhyped by anyone, because Schwab took her time to craft and execute his character well on page.

Is exactly what I was thinking as well. PD started to believe their own hype around Damon, and in the end, they couldn’t keep him in the mold they created. Sometimes characters grown in directions that’s unpredictable, but also…sometimes authors sabotage themselves. I’ve done it. Again, not sure what happened with PD, if this is the case or not. But it just feels like that to me.

Then again, I was never really into Damon. I’ve always been way more interested in Kai and Will.

And another example is Kaleb and Tiernan from Credence

Never read Credence either, but was watching an unhinged recap on Youtube. Didn’t finish 'cause I got bored. Nice to know Kaleb was the one picked. I’m somehow not at all surprised by that. But gah, why?

This man who hanged out with banks and choose to pick her bras? Wtf? No way would she be ashamed of that. Especially when it's so important to emmy. And the fact that he doesn't know emmy had vibrators?

I actually hadn’t factored in the bra scene, thanks for the reminder. Solid point. Will Grayson goes above and beyond for the people he cares about, but somehow that’s all forgotten when Emmy asks for something, all so Damon can come in and be the hero?

Can we just stick Rika and Damon in a cage, so the rest of the characters can get a chance to actually shine? I wonder what PD would do if they were challenged to write a scene in which Rika and Damon couldn’t be used or mentioned? Maybe then we’d get some proper characterization.

As you can see, I’m feeling a bit condescending, too.

-KO

[jamiesfootball]

20 Questions with a Fanfic Author

tagged by the @thewildballyntynesgrow - thanks!

Let's do this!

1. How many works on AO3?

33

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

233,556 words

3. Top 5 Fics by Kudos

A German, a Russian, and an American Walk into a Bar (The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller, 97k) - 703 kudos

Two years of missions, from trafficking rings to spy hunters, attempted kidnappings, underground boxing matches, and sanctioned bank robberies. The three of them have found sharing secrets helps.

spoonful of sugar (Ted Lasso (TV), gen) - 314 kudos

Roy flipped through the pages. Stopping at a blank one, he held the pen at the ready. “What do you want me to write down?" Jamie chewed on his lip. Roy was on the verge of repeating himself when he said quietly, “Summer 2009. Broken arm.”

oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) (Ted Lasso (TV), gen) - 262 kudos

Roy’s got a new job, a therapist, and a niece who isn’t around as much anymore. He’s got decades of anger that’s never seen the lights of day. He’s got a coaching staff trying to move forward without Ted. He's got four footballers looking to him for answers, and one of them—the one that’s become a bit special to him—is hiding a ticking time bomb under goofy outfits and complaints about classic literature. Roy’s got one month to get his shit together before the season starts.

Bottled (Ted Lasso (TV), gen) - 244 kudos

He shakes his head and swears warmly, the way he must’ve done a million times before– “I should fucking strangle you.”

The Dick String Incident (Ted Lasso (TV), gen) - 231 kudos

Jeff was halfway through tying the string around his waist when Colin asked, “Did he say ‘you’ or ‘your?'”

4. What fandoms do you write for?

I've got a ton of unpublished fic lying around, but of the ones that are published, I've done Ted Lasso, The Man From UNCLE, The Musketeers, and One Piece. Also Original Works.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try. God, I try.

6. Angstiest Ending?

Despite the fact that ensky (One Piece) features Major Character Death, I think that one actually has a very... sublime ending. Like, Sanji may be dead, but Zoro is dedicated to carrying their relationship and rivalry, even if he has to do it alone. It's very Zoro, in his approach to things like grief and responsibility

Kettle. Kettle is, in my opinion, the darkest ending. It's one short, harrowing moment of child abuse, with nothing to soften the blow until the sequel (Bottled, which surprisingly made the top 5 kudos list).

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

whipped to a frenzy (Ted Lasso (TV))

Roy receives a text from Jamie that's either very concerning or very stupid.

Spoilers: it was very stupid.

This one simply delights me. I love writing humor, and with this one it hits so softly and fondly.

8. Do you get hate?

Not yet

9. Do you write smut?

Not often. Like fantasy or historical fiction, it's just not a genre that I often feel inspired to write, but when the inspiration does strike, sure. I'll write anything, really, so long the story inspires it (which is why I've written all of those things)

10. Do you write crossovers?

While I've had ideas for crossovers before, they've never come together into a full story for me. Which is a bummer because I currently have that as a square on one of my bingo cards : (

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Not a clue

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic?

Yes! I've cowritten 2 fics (both on ao3) with a friend, and I'm currently going back and forth with the same friend on another possible fic now that the stars have aligned us on a similar interest

14. All time favorite ship?

Don't really have a favorite-favorite

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I've got a fic I've not updated since 2016 and I'm still holding out hope

16. Writing strengths?

I think my ability to describe things from a sensory perspective is quite good. Also, in general, I think I tend to have a really solid idea of what big idea or theme I'm writing towards with my fics. This means that when the brainrot subsides, the fic is still safe, because I've got a really good story to help keep me hooked

17. Writing Weaknesses?

I am beginning to suspect that I may have untreated adhd. Other than that, I'd say my dialogue. You know that post going around that's like 'how do you write such good dialogue' / 'I say the words out loud like I'm talking to myself'? The problem is that's still a skill, and it's a skill that I don't always have. Some times I hear the characters perfectly, sometimes I don't. When I don't, it takes a lot of work and focus to try and chisel the ideas of what a character would say into actual dialogue. I'm trying to get better at it, but it's hard.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

I don't like it when the translations are all at the bottom in the author's note, but I did once read an incredible fic that was about a character purposefully speaking in another language to see how well the person who knew them best would understand them. It was so remarkably well-done, and it's sort of the standard bearer in my head for how to write mixed language that's still enjoyable for the reader. (They also had hover-over translations for people who wanted to know what was being said, but part of the fun was trying to guess based on the context clues from the pov character)

In general, my rules for mixed language dialogue tend to be the same as my rules for using pop culture references:

would a person who doesn't know what it means still be able to enjoy it?

would someone who doesn't know what it means still be able to engage with the story being told in a similar way to the rest of the audience?

To me, it's not enough to simply have translations - you've gotta make sure the rest of the story carries the weight too. If the audience and the character are meant to be confused, great! Nicknames, titles, things like that that can be tricky to translate without losing meaning, those can usually be gleaned with some contextual clues.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote one page of a Dragon Ball Z fanfic when I was 10

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) is probably my favorite. It's been immensely satisfying to plot out, and it's giving chance to focus on character pairings that don't get a lot of in-depth attention

I do want to give a small shout out to two of my other fics though, because I'm feeling soft about them right now:

juice boxes and snacks

When Jamie was really little, his mummy used to work the swing shift.

This one is just a small introspective piece about Jamie growing up in poverty with a single mum, and how that colors his present even as his current self has come to understand it more

If I have things you need to borrow (I won't borrow what I can't earn)

Roy might have given him the captain’s band, but that’s not enough. He has to earn it. He has to put the effort in, or it doesn’t count. He needs to be worthy of it, or else what’s the fucking point?

This is my Isaac character study, where Isaac struggles to figure out how to be the sort of leader he wants to be. Featuring his friendship with Jamie and Colin over the seasons

Tagging for funsies, no pressure at all:

@abubblingcandle @altschmerzes @tenderhooked @nativestarwrites @cartwrong (if you want to do slow horses too <3)

[badolmen]

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Can you donate for me to rebuild my house and preserve my children lives and support me financially to evacuatefromGaza.

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✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #253 )✅️

You and your family are in my prayers.

Followers, this campaign has since been verified by GazaVetters (#253 on their masterlist here).

As of posting this campaign has raised €373 of its €50,000 goal [0.75%]. Please donate at the GFM link here or reblog and share this campaign!

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Sweet past - Ch.1

Summary: 3 years ago, you moved away from Austin, leaving your wreck of a father behind. Now, some news brings you back, and you try to navigate the new life with your dad's best friend, Joel, by your side.

No outbreak is happening here.

Pairing: dbf!Joel x reader

Warnings: mention of death, some foul language, angst.

AN: This is my first time writing for any Pedro Pascal character. The story is a bit angsty and a little different from typical dbf stories out there. Nevertheless I hope you will enjoy it :)

Words: 1 231

Masterlist Chapter 2

It was one of those days when the world seemed determined to weigh you down. A day where every fiber of your being longed for the sanctuary of bed, to simply lie there, unmoving, as if stillness could erase the heaviness in the air. You weren’t exactly tired, more… depleted. It was a curious kind of exhaustion, one that stretched beyond the physical. Typically, you could rely on the people around you—smart, dependable—but today, it seemed as if they'd all collectively lost the ability to think. The simplest tasks turned into ordeals, and everything felt like wading through thick fog.

After unloading the groceries, you flicked on the television, choosing a movie at random without caring to even glance at the title. You weren’t watching it for the plot—just the distraction. The gentle clink of the wine bottle against your glass as you poured yourself a drink offered a brief, comforting sound. You settled into the couch, the cushions welcoming you as you reached for your phone, scrolling through Instagram in a vague attempt to reconnect with the world beyond the confines of your four walls. The perfectly curated lives on the screen felt distant, almost surreal, yet they offered a strange kind of solace.

Life wasn’t bad. In fact, it had become something close to good. Not perfect, certainly—not flawless—but there was a newfound stability in it. You had begun to steady yourself after years of uncertainty, and for the first time in a long while, the past didn’t haunt your every waking moment. The memory that had once consumed you, that dark chapter, was now a distant echo, something you thought about less and less. Your job, too, had shifted into something bearable, even enjoyable at times. Becoming a sous chef had surprised you, more for the satisfaction it brought than the promotion itself. Cooking wasn’t a path you’d ever expected to walk, let alone thrive in, but life has a way of leading you down roads you never could’ve predicted.

The quiet was shattered by the sharp ring of your phone, cutting through the air like a blade. Startled, your heart leapt into your throat, a cold wave of unease settling in your stomach as you stared at the screen. The number glowing there—so familiar, yet so unexpected—stopped you in your tracks. A name you hadn’t spoken or thought of in years swirled in your mind, dredging up old feelings you thought you'd buried long ago.

For a moment, you hesitated, the silence between the rings stretching on as though the universe was giving you one last chance to ignore it. But you couldn’t. Not this time.

“Joel?” you said, your voice barely more than a breath, laced with confusion and something you couldn’t quite place—fear, maybe, or anticipation. It had been three years since you’d last heard that name, three long years of silence.

"Hey, kiddo."

That voice. Gravelly, hoarse, unmistakably Joel Miller. It hadn’t changed, not one bit, after all these years. A voice so distinctive that it could cut through any crowd, and you'd recognize it in an instant. Even now, through the crackling phone line, it brought back memories, both comforting and unsettling.

"How are you?"

But you couldn’t answer that. Your instincts were already screaming that something was wrong, and you had no patience for pleasantries. "What happened?" you asked, your voice sharp, cutting straight to the heart of it. No small talk. Not when your gut was twisting with dread.

"What made you think..."

"Joel." You interrupted, firmer this time, sensing his hesitation. There was a pause on the other end, the kind of pause that made the world stand still for just a second too long. He sighed. And in that sigh, you heard something you'd never associated with Joel before—nervousness. Joel Miller was a lot of things—gruff, moody, and often short-tempered—but nervous? Never. Until now.

"This isn’t something I want to discuss over the phone," he began, his voice lower, like he was picking his words carefully. "But you never left an address." He trailed off, and you heard the sound of him settling into a chair, the weariness in his movements somehow translating through the call. Your mind raced, scrambling to piece together what he was struggling to say. Was it about your father? Had he fallen back into his old ways? Was he in jail again? Or worse?

"He never wanted you to know," Joel continued, his voice thick with something heavy—regret, maybe, or sorrow. "He didn’t want you to worry…"

You let him speak, his words falling slowly, as though each one was a burden. Joel wasn’t one to skirt around things, but today was different. Whatever this was, it was bad—so bad that even someone like Joel was struggling to get it out.

"He’s gone, kid."

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. For a second, you thought your heart had stopped. Time itself seemed to freeze. Gone? The world around you faded into a blur, your mind desperately trying to process the weight of what he had just said.

"I’m sorry." Joel’s voice softened, and he said your name, but the syllables barely registered. It was as if your brain had short-circuited, unable to focus on anything but the ringing silence that followed those words.

"I… I… his liver…" Joel’s explanation felt distant, muffled, like you were hearing it underwater.

You swallowed hard, the tears already burning in your eyes. "Was he in pain?" you managed to whisper, your voice trembling, barely holding itself together. "When he died?"

"Sweetheart," Joel replied, his voice rougher now, edged with sadness. "This isn’t a conversation to have over the phone."

He was right, of course. But the thought of having this conversation face-to-face, of confronting this loss, seemed unbearable. You weren’t sure if you had the strength to hear all the details. Not yet.

"I can plan everything out if it’s too much for you," Joel offered gently, always the practical one, even in moments like this. His tone was steady, but underneath it, you could hear the strain of trying to shoulder this burden for you.

You closed your eyes, a tear sliding down your cheek. "I’ll be there in three days," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Thank you, Joel."

As you ended the call, the silence in the room felt suffocating. You sank back into the couch, feeling the weight of grief press down on you, and let the sobs come. It was the kind of crying that leaves you exhausted, every tear carrying a part of your soul with it, until finally, sleep took you. A restless, uneasy sleep, haunted by the echoes of Joel’s words and the unbearable finality of loss.

***

Austin was one of those places that carried the weight of too many memories, memories so sweet they turned bitter if you lingered on them for too long. Leaving had been painful, but returning felt like reopening an old wound, the kind that never quite healed right. You knew, even before you arrived, that you were coming back to emptiness. And yet, something—some invisible force—pulled you back. Maybe it was nostalgia, maybe it was guilt, or maybe it was just the cruel pull of the past that refuses to let go.

The ride to your old home wasn’t long, mercifully spent in silence. The landscape hadn’t changed much since you left three years ago. It was as if the town had fallen into a kind of stasis, stubbornly resisting the passage of time. Yet, in a strange contradiction, there were new houses, new shops, all designed to look like they’d been there forever, as if even progress here was determined to stay hidden in plain sight.

You thanked the driver, grabbed your bags, and stood there for a moment, staring up at the house you once called home. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, but it wasn’t the smile of joy. It was the kind of smile that comes when you remember something that used to be beautiful—before everything went to hell. Yes, childhood had been good, once. You’d had two loving parents, a nice house, good friends who, in hindsight, had become little more than acquaintances when things got hard. But that was before. Before everything unraveled.

The key slid easily into the lock, the same key your father had given you the day you left. He had pressed it into your hand, almost desperate, as if the weight of it might keep you grounded, keep you from walking away from him, from this town, from the life you no longer recognized. You’d kept it, not out of sentimentality, but practicality. Just in case. Though you never imagined you’d use it again so soon. Three years—gone in the blink of an eye. So much had changed, and yet the uncertainty remained. You didn’t even know what you were doing here, what you expected to find.

The door swung open, and the house felt different. Not colder—cleaner. The stale scent of alcohol no longer lingered in the air. No empty bottles cluttering the floors. The walls, once dingy, had been repainted, and there was a new carpet. You froze when your eyes landed on the pictures. Photos of you, as a child, lined the hallway. You stared at them, heart tightening. Graduation photos. Family portraits. Your mom and dad, smiling, back when life was full of hope. Back when the future seemed bright.

You blinked, forcing back the tears that stung at your eyes. Those days were long gone, swallowed by the chaos that followed. You abandoned your bags by the door, drawn deeper into the house as memories flooded your mind. To your surprise, the place was in much better condition than you’d expected. It looked like your father had made an effort, had used the money you sent him after all.

Still, as you wandered from room to room, the house remained largely unchanged. The furniture, the layout—it was like walking through a frozen moment in time. Your heart ached when you reached your old bedroom. Everything was exactly as you'd left it. The posters still clung to the walls, slightly faded. The books you’d loved in high school were neatly lined on the shelves, untouched. The DVDs and CDs, relics of movie nights with your parents, sat waiting. Those Saturday nights had been a lifeline back then, a brief reprieve from the chaos. You, your parents, snacks spread across the coffee table, laughing and watching movies late into the night. You cherished those memories, even now.

Your fingers grazed one of the DVDs when the doorbell rang, echoing through the quiet house. You frowned, your heart skipping a beat as you made your way to the door. Peeking through the peephole, your eyes widened.

"Long time no see, kiddo."

There he stood, Joel Miller, looking almost exactly the same as when you’d last seen him. The same rugged features, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair and beard now streaked with more gray. His smirk was still there, that familiar, crooked grin he always wore when he was about to tease you.

"Joel!" you breathed, a genuine smile breaking through as you opened the door. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. His scent—earthy, familiar—washed over you, and you exhaled, finally allowing yourself to feel grounded.

Joel’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and he murmured your name, his voice low and unsure, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were here. "Come on inside," he said, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. "I stocked up for you."

He led you into the house, and you blinked away the single tear that escaped. There was a time for tears, but not now. Not after the pain Joel had already brought you, not after everything that had happened. There would be time for that later—just not yet.

[lulubelle814]

The Traveler - Chapter 9

Chapter 10

The Traveler Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The ship arrived back at port about a few days later where Conrad was promptly escorted to the Monarch facility.  While he handed over the camera, he kept Billie’s writing journal for himself, wanting to keep some part of her with him.  He read through some of what she’d written and also noticed where she scratched things out, trying to change the story.  Billie told him she’d tried, and now he could see the proof of her claim.

Brooks found there was still film in the camera along with 2 other rolls that had been used.  He assumed there would be more, but they could only develop what they could find and it would take a few days to do so.

Conrad had been interrogated time and time again along with ‘required’ medical testing including blood tests and a psychiatric evaluation.  

They asked him questions like:

“Are you on any medications?”

“Did you hit your head at any point?”

“What did you see?”

“Why did you agree to go on this mission with such little information?”

“Have you ever been evaluated by a medical professional before?”

It went on and on and on, virtually trapped in a steel box for 12 - 14 hours a day, the only interaction coming from whomever was interrogating him.  He counted 436 tiles on the ceiling and 231 scratches on the table at least 4 separate times just to have something else to do when stuck in that god forsaken room.  It didn’t take long at all for Conrad to figure out they were asking the same set of questions in more than a dozen different ways.  

In his mind, it was like a broken radio replaying bits of ‘Wild Horses’ while thinking of her, Billie.  

Graceless lady you know who I am

You know I can't let you slide through my hands

The past few days had been chaotic, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her, wondering where she disappeared to, was she okay, and would he ever get to see her again. 

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses we'll ride them some day

It was on the third day of questioning that he decided to see if he could find at least some trace of her out in the world. The questions continued, but now he was tuning them out, rather focusing on Billie and how he might locate her.  It wasn’t until she disappeared from his arms when the helicopter went through the fog that he realized how much he not just wanted her but needed her.

On day 7, he decided he’d had enough, slamming his fists on the table as he stood up.  “Enough!  You’ve been going on and on.  I’m not going to have any different answers or insights for you.  So let me go or lock me up because I’m done with this.”  

At the end of it, he was made to sign the official secrets act due to this entire fiasco and its findings.  Brooks found him as he was released from interrogation and stalked through the corridors.  “I think you’ll want to see this.”  

Brooks showed him some of the pictures that were developed.  Most of them were pictures of the Conrad, the soldiers, the Iwis, or even the scenery.  

“No one can seem to find her anywhere.  It’s like she never existed, but we know she did.  I know we didn’t have some sort of mass hallucination that caused us to all see the same person.”  Brooks showed him the pictures where she posed with the Iwis or when Slivko swiped the camera and took a picture of her and Conrad.  “So either she’s real, or we all had a mass hallucination.  Considering what we went through, I'm almost inclined to believe the latter, but the pictures say otherwise.”  There were even 2 or 3 pictures at the very beginning that made absolutely no sense: a cafe table with a dessert on it, a picture of a storefront, and one of cars driving down the street.  “I can’t make heads or tales of those.  Especially those cars?  They’re unlike anything we’ve ever seen.”  

Conrad shuffled through the pictures, looking at them.  In one of the out of place ones, there was a picture of a strange shop, the sign reading Hank’s Antiques and Oddities.

That was when he spotted some pictures of the pictographs, images he hadn’t seen before.  He couldn’t figure out what any of it meant, but he knew the one person who would.

Without asking, he kept the picture of the two of them, wanting some sort of visual keepsake as well as a few others, knowing Brooks could always use the negatives to print more.  “I’m going to find her, Brooks.  I promise you that.  But first, I need you to get me an address.”

Since Monarch was the one who helped Hank get home, it wasn't difficult to obtain his address.  They were reluctant to let Conrad go even though they had nothing left to hold him there; however, they knew he'd be useful on future missions locating and handling kaijus.  Monarch did, however, manage to keep him on base for an additional 2 weeks to do thorough testing including both medical and physical endurance tests, much to his chagrin.

Thanks to Brooks, Conrad's trip to see Hank was covered by the company under the guise of collecting more information and confirming that he was settling back into the real world alright.  Conrad was warned it would be a long trip and travel out of the secret location was limited, and he realized they weren’t kidding. It took 3 flights and 2 buses, using the time to study the pictures he obtained from Brooks, more specifically the ones from ‘before’ she arrived on the ship.  Finally, he found himself at Hank's door with nothing more than his rucksack and the pictures he'd swiped.  Knocking on the door, it was Hank's son, Steve, who answered.

"Can I help you?"  It was not surprising that Steve was skeptical of strangers at the door, especially since his MIA father returned a few days before.  The gentleman at the door looked almost exactly like his father.  "I'm...uh....I'm looking for Hank Marlow?"

Before Steve could say anything, Hank appeared behind his son.  "Thanks kid.  I've got it from here."  Once his (grown) kid left, Hank turned back to Conrad, smiling.  "I knew you'd show up sooner or later."

This was not how Conrad thought this conversation would start.  He figured he'd have to explain why he was there and hope he didn't sound completely insane.  "How’d you know?"

Hank motioned for him to come inside, closing the door behind his expected guest.  He offered Conrad a beer which he accepted with thanks.  “No offense, but you look like crap man.”

James scoffed.  “I feel like crap.  Monarch held me at their facility for over 2 weeks before they agreed to let me leave.  I have no idea why they let you go sooner than me.”

Hank shrugged.  “Don’t know what to tell you.  I think I spent 2 solid days just telling them stuff and then another 5 days getting poked like a pin cushion.”  He sighed.  “Before we get into it, how about you go take a shower? I don’t mean to be unkind, but you smell like shit.”  Conrad couldn’t help but laugh.  “Good idea.  Just point the way.”

After a nice hot shower and a change of clothes, he felt much better.  When going back to the front room, Hank’s wife had just finished making dinner and had set an extra place for him.  “Thank you so much for your kind hospitality.”

After dinner, Conrad took out the pictures he’d obtained from Brooks and showed them to Hank who looked through them carefully.  When he got to the one with the pictographs, James placed a finger on it.  “This isn’t one of the sections you showed us, but I was hoping you might be able to interpret it for me.  I can tell a couple of the words are the same or similar from the one you told us about how the traveler and their destiny to save each other.” He points to the pictorial of the traveler in the picture.  “What does this one mean?”

Hank took a few minutes to look at it.  “I know I’m not going to explain this right, but it basically says the traveler will be stolen back to their home and away from their destiny, and only their destiny can find them.”

“And how the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

Hank’s head popped up, staring wide-eyed at Conrad.  “So you finally believe, eh?”

All Conrad could do in return is groan.  “Yes, okay.  Are you happy?  I can’t stop thinking about her.  When we went through that fog and she disappeared, it’s like she took a part of me with her.  All I can think about is getting her back.”

“Well, it’s about time.”  Hank got up and went to the entry closet, pulling out a small, wrinkled, brown bag, handing it to him.  “They gave me this before we left on the ploat, saying I’d know what to do when the time came, and here it is.”

Conrad opened the bag to find the same talisman he saw in Billie’s possession when he first ran into her on the ship.  “But…..how?”

Hank brushed his beard with his hand.  “The one she got originated from her reality.  This talisman is from our reality.  They can only be used by very specific special people like you and Billie, and each one is only good for one round trip from what I understand.  So if you really want to get her back, that’s your ticket.”

“Let's say this does get me to her reality.  How am I supposed to find her?  I don’t even know where this will take me.”

“It should take you at least close enough, like hers did with getting her here.  After that, that’s up to you, man.”  He placed a hand on top of Conrad’s, forcing the talisman back onto the table.  “If you’re going to this, I strongly suggest you get some sleep first.  You’ll need your energy to track her down once you start, and I don’t know if the currency we use will work in her world.  I’ll have my wife pack you some food just in case and get your clothes washed tonight just in case.”

He couldn’t help but feel grateful to his friend.  “Thank you, so much.”  He thought for a moment.  “Let's suppose this does work.  Getting back here, would we end up wherever I started here from?”

“I can only assume.  So let's have you use the talisman in the guest room.  That way, you’ll have privacy when you leave and a familiar place to come back to.  I’ll make sure the room is left undisturbed while you’re gone, too.”  With that, Hank stood up and showed Conrad to the guest room at the back of the house.  Conrad handed over his clothes after Hank insisted, just wanting to look out for his friend.

In the morning, Conrad’s clothes were washed, dried, and folded, ready to go back in his rucksack along with sandwiches and some snacks.  “Like I said, I don’t know what you’ll find over there, but be careful.”  

Conrad double checked his pockets, making sure he still had the pictures he’d brought, especially those taken before Billie’s trip to him as he’d obtained at least a few clues, his tracker skills having come in very handy.  He pulled the talisman out of the bag, looking at Hank.  So, how does this….”  Before he could finish, everything around him disappeared.  Seconds later, he was in an alley by a coffee shop. “Work….”  

He looked around.  “Well, I’m definitely not in Kansas anymore.”  Looking up at the sky, it was a nice, sunny afternoon, but storm clouds quickly began to gather.

Pulling out Billie’s pre-travel photos, one of them showed this very cafe in the background, realizing the talisman likely took him to the exact spot where Billie traveled from and likely back to.  Thankfully having kept the pictures in print order, he followed them to recreate the timeline to the earliest picture showing a sign reading Hank’s Antiques and Oddities.  He looked around, trying not to stray far and quickly found the shop was nearby, making his way over there as the rain started pouring.  

When he entered the store, there was no one to be found.  After a moment, someone shouted from the backroom that they’d be right out.  The man who appeared had an eerie similarity to Hank.  Conrad was very confused.  “Hank?”

The guy shook his head.  “Nah.  Hank’s my dad.  I’m Steve.”  The gentleman held his hand out and shook Conrad’s hand.  “Dad passed a few years back. I took over his shop.”  He couldn’t help but stare at Conrad for a minute.  “You look familiar.”

Conrad was confused.  “How so?”  Steve held up a finger, silently telling him to hold on a minute while he ran to the backroom again, coming back out a couple of minutes later with a picture of his dad and a guy who looked eerily similar to Conrad and showed it to him.  “My dad told me about this guy who looked a lot like you.  Ran into him during his travels in Vietnam at a bar.  This guy,“ he pointed to Conrad’s lookalike, ”was a tracker that was hired to help find some missing soldiers.  Said his name was James Conrad.  Before my dad finally left Vietnam a couple of weeks later, he’d gotten word that this Conrad guy died.  The Lt. Colonel he was helping just snapped, claiming Conrad and a couple of his own men were working against him.  So he killed them.  And you look an awful lot like this guy that died.”

Conrad couldn’t dispute the picture.  That was him next to Hank, but that wasn’t actually him.  Apparently this reality had its own version of Conrad and Hank, and it sounds like this reality’s Conrad wasn’t so lucky when ending up in a very similar situation.

Without thinking, Conrad held up the talisman that brought him to this reality, and Steve recognized it immediately.  

“That’s exactly like the one I gave Billie before she disappeared for a few days.”  Conrad then showed him the pictures he had of him and Billie on Skull Island.  “Holy shit, she wasn’t lying.”  Rain continued to pelt the windows as Steve went through the pictures he’d been handed.

Steve pointed at the last picture.  “That’s the crazy Lt. Colonel who killed the tracker guy.  The dude was put on trial and died in a mental institution.”

“Please tell me you know where I can find Billie.”  Steve could hear the pains in the man’s voice, the desperate need to find her.

“Yeah, of course I do.”  He grabbed his keys and flipped the sign on the door to closed before leading Conrad out to his truck.  “Get in.  I’ll take you to her place.”  Conrad chucked his rucksack in the back of the truck before climbing into the passenger seat, not caring that it was quickly getting soaked from the rain.

It was only a few minutes later that they pulled up to an old house with a detached garage.  It didn’t look like anyone was home, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there.  He could see a car in the garage that looked like it was being restored, a 1970 Dodge Charger R/T.  This had to be her work.  He could tell.  She was meticulous.  

Before Conrad climbed out of the truck, Steve stopped him for a second.  “I’ll wait here in case she’s not home.”  Conrad nodded, getting out of the truck, grabbing his bag,  and made his way up the porch of the house before knocking on the door.  It was a couple of minutes before someone finally answered, just as there was a huge clap of thunder.

Taglist: @vbecker10 @eleniblue @msdjsg7 @lovingchoices14 @buttercupcookies-blog @mischief-dream @msdjsg7

Taglist is open!

[lovelyvogrincic]

I know everything about you

Enzo Vorgincic x fem! Reader

Warnings: Jealousy and mention of alcohol drinks but minor, mostly fluff.

Note: This prompt has taken ages to be here! So enjoy it, also it’s a dialogue stolen from Teresa 🫣 pardon any mistake!

malesanchezw

Liked by vogrincicenzo and 21,788 others.

Doble cita con doble shots con estos tres. @matiasrecalt @yn.yln @vogrincicenzo

View all 231 comments.

yn.yln: cual doble cita? 🙄 cállate.

santivacanarvaja: gracias por la invitación a la doble cita.

vogrincicenzo: @santivacanarvaja que no es una cita!

matiasrecalt: te amo guapa ❤️

-Es una cita entonces- you say as you kept the napkin on your purse- Me aseguraré de escribirte.

-Perfecto, esperaré tu mensaje- the guy you’ve been taking to said as he winked and left you to return to the table you were sharing with your friends.- Chao.

You arrived to the table smiling and feeling more confident in you and your looks, a little materialistic? Probably, but still felt good.

-Ah pero estás muy sonriente- your best friend told you as you sat down next to her.- ¿Que pasó con ese chico?

-Nada importante, me dio su número para hacer una cita y seguir charlando.- you said couldn’t hiding your excitement- No puedo creerlo.

-Parece que alguien está teniendo buena suerte hoy, ¿ah?- another of your best friends said seeing you blushing and excited.

You nodded and turned to see the other friend you were with.- Y, ¿vos que opinas, Enzo? Estás muy callado.

He simply returned to sip his cocktail and didn’t looked at your direction.

-Eh, ¿Por qué te ponés de mal humor, Enzo?- you asked looking for his sight, trying to make him look at you.- ¿Hice algo?

-No, solo estoy cansado, es eso.- he said after a few seconds, and returned to drink.

-Todos lo estamos, por eso decidimos venir acá, a tomarnos unos tragos, platicar y bailar, ¡Disfrutá!- Malena, your best friend told him as she cheered her drink with her boyfriend.

-Si Enzo, relájate, y sonreí, igual es temprano para irnos- Matías, Malena’s boyfriend told him, and the last words made Enzo roll his eyes.

-Tenes razón Mati, yo voy por un refill, ¿alguien queré?- you asked while getting up with your glass.

-Yo, cariño, por favor, lo que sea- Malena answered as giving you her glass too and you walked to the barman.

-Enzo, conociéndote como lo hago, digo que estás celoso- the mentioned one just clicked his tongue and looked to other side, trying to ignore his friend comment- ¿Ves? Estás celoso, ¿por qué no lo decís?

He sighed at the thought of telling you, one of his closest and best friends, that he was dying of jealousy, even though he didn’t had any right to, or that he wanted to rip apart that napkin with that dumb guy’s number, he couldn’t, he could’ve lose you and that was something he wouldn’t bear to.

-Nah Matias, estás equivocado, (yn) y yo solo somos amigos, no estoy celoso, y si lo estuviera, no tendría derecho.- the couple turned to see each other, it was a superpower they had perfectioned with the time, talk without saying a word.

-Pero, ¿qué decís? Si es obvio que vos gustas de (yn) y ella de vos, ¡deberían confersalo!- Malena said rolling her eyes at how absurd he was being.

-No, no lo haré, ella solo me ve como un amigo y eso está bien, no espero más, así que basta, esto se queda entre nosotros- Enzo said while looking at his friends searching for commitment of them to not say another word; they lift their hands, surrendering on the topic.

After a few more seconds, hardly, you made your way to the table with just had lost a little of liquid from the drinks, put them on the table and sat down.

-¿Y,de qué me perdí?- as you said that, the three people with you looked at each other.

-De nada, (yn) nada interesante.- Enzo answered, looking directly at your eyes for the first time in the evening.

-Ah, pero por fin me volteas a ver, ¡milagro!- you told him in between laughs making him roll his eyes funny.

-Eh, pará, es que ya te veo borrosa, intento enfocarte- the Uruguayan answered also laughing, making the couple sitting near you, smile at seeing you both like that.

-¿Ya se te pasó el mal genio?- you asked him, getting near him, so you didn’t had to scream, he returned to finishing his drink- ¿Que significa eso?

-Yo creo que es un no- Matías told you- Ya sabes cómo es Enzo, el mal genio le dura un buen rato.

Everyone continued to tease him about him being a grumpy old man, making Enzo more grumpy, but the thing that annoyed him more was that a lot of guys were stealing glances at you, he was the only to notice, of course.

-Eh, para, para- he asked- si fuera un abuelo con mal genio, no me levantaría a bailar- he said while leaving his drink on the table and getting up.

-Probalo- you dared him; one thing was that he got up, another was that he actually took courage to go to the dance floor, because he was shy and dancing wasn’t his forte.

-Bueno, ¿me acompañás?- he finally asked, while reaching out his hand for you to take, you looked to Matias and Malena who were in shook and also trying desperately to convince you to accept.

-Hagámoslo- your hand met his, and got up, both smiled as you headed to the dance floor- no me pises mucho, ¿si?

He nodded and arrived to the dance floor, the songs playing were jazz, everyone agreed to go to a calm place but with good drinks, your hands didn’t knew where to land, so Enzo took initiative, one of his hands went to your waist, and yours went to his shoulder and the free hands, intertwined, as you followed the rhythm of every instrument, moving side to side or forward, even adding a little turn in a while.

After a few songs,Valentine by Laufey was playing, you both had gotten closer, your both hands on his neck and his in your waist, practically hugging and smelling each other’s perfumes, much haven’t been said, but the body language was talking for itself, and finally Enzo broke the silence.

yn.yln

Liked by franromerofran and 25,600 others.

'Cause I think I've fallen in love this time 🩷 @vogrincicenzo

View all 1,235 comments.

malesanchezw: 😻🥺 los más preciosos!

blaspolidorii: QUE TIERNOOOS 🤧

franromerofran: Shippeo hasta el infinito !

vogrincicenzo: Vos y Laufey>>>>

-No estaba cansado, ni de malas- he confessed looking at you.

-¿No, entonces por qué estabas tan mala onda hace rato?- you asked him, really intrigued.

He swallowed before answering- Porque me moría de celos- finally he told the truth, trying to not break the eye contact, you stopped swinging.

-¿Cómo, vos estabas celoso, por qué?- you couldn’t believe what you’ve just heard, probably, you thought, he was jealous like a brother could be or jealous that you flirted and he hadn’t- ¿Por qué yo conseguí un número y vos no?

He laughed and sighed.

-No, muerto de celos porque alguien más te va a llevar en una cita, porque él cree que te merece, porque vos lo viste como a mí no, y porque…sentí que debía ser yo, no él- he told you and broke the contact you had, stepping a few centimeters away.- sé que no tene sentido y yo no debería sentirme así, pero eso fue lo que pasó, (yn), no fuiste vos.

You took some sweet seconds to process what he just told you, it was huge what he confessed and with caution, you got near him again.

-¿En serio estabas celoso?- he nodded looking down like a little kid who was just scolded.-¿Por qué decís que él no me merece?

His shoulders lifted and you giggled.

-Porque yo te conozco muy bien, y él no, porque mereces algo bueno, no a cualquiera que se te acerque en un bar- your hands went again around his neck, at first, he was shy to put again his hands around you.

-¿Ah si, me conoces mucho?- he nodded again- ¿cual es mi flor favorita?

-Los lirios blancos- he said without hesitation, making your eyes wide open.

-Esa era fácil, ¿cuál es mi álbum favorito de Taylor Swift?- he laughed at the question but he knew the answer.

-Lover y me atrevería a decir que Red compite por ahí también- you nodded shocked at how many details he knew about you- Tu película favorita es Orgullo y Prejuicio, de chica jugabas futbol y hacías ballet, preferís el chocolate blanco, y claro, tu cantante favorita es Taylor Swift, a la cual seguís desde 2010.

You couldn’t believe all the facts about you, he just said, how could he remember all that?, it must’ve been that he really, really liked you, and what a wonderful new, because you happened to liked that Uruguayan guy so much.

-Podes hacerme mil preguntas sobre vos, y todas las sabré, porque me gustas y mucho (yn)- he confessed smiling, with a shine in his eyes.

-No lo sabes todo- you told him making his eyes open wide- Te faltó algo.

-¿Que me faltó- he asked you laughing, while you were serious.

-Que vos me gustas…, y mucho, también- you confessed as the blush on your cheeks appeared and he cubbed one of your cheek with his hand.

-Todos los días se aprende algo nuevo.

And he took a deep breath to finally, after wanting it for a while, kiss you.

vogrincicenzo

Liked by yn.yln and 143,000 others.

eres lo más bonito que he encontrado.

my valentine… 💌

View all 5,449 comments.

yn.yln: My lover and valentine 💌

vogrincicenzo: @yn.yln ❤️ te adoro.

Matiasrecalt: no puedo con lo cursi que son! Igual, felicidades !

pipegonzalesotano: Aaaaay que ternura uds dos. Los quiero !