#but they could actually take her story in a very dark direction as her trauma is not something you can ever truly recover from

[colleybri]

Possible solution to the mystery of the “complicated” canoodling in the leaked Andor Star Wars Celebration ‘23 trailer ?

Back in the summer of 2023, the lucky attendees of the SW Celebration in London were treated to a short sizzle reel of footage from season 2 of Andor, which featured this shot of Cassian and Bix apparently being intimate. Adria Arjona was immediately asked about in an interview, and while being unable to spill anything said that “even that beautiful shot” was “more complicated” than it appeared. Online, there’s since been considerable debate about this comment. There have been suggestions that the shot might be a flashback, a reunion or a goodbye. But the bottom line is that it’s definitely not going to be a simple seduction scene or anything like that. Why not ? Apart from what Adria says, because Tony Gilroy is not going to waste precious storytelling time on that sort of thing. There’s going to be something else going on. Think of how complicated the story behind the Bix - Timm scenes were in S1.

I think I might have the answer, and it’s to do with the clarity of the new still released about a month ago….

Notice that Cassian is wearing a coat and Bix is wearing a tank top. The location is the apartment (in what looks very much like Coruscant) that we’ve now seen a few times in the leaked teasers, and for the first time clearly in a few new official stills including this one of Cass and Bix eating dinner…

The micro trailer also featured this shot of Cassian, blaster in one hand and something unknown in the other, standing in the doorway of this apartment as it slides open. He’s wearing a coat.

This shot is giving me the vibe of somebody who is not in a panic, but who is definitely starting to get a bit concerned. Perhaps he was expecting Bix to open the door, but she didn’t answer.

Why might she not have answered? Perhaps because something is wrong…?! Did someone get to her?? Has someone betrayed their location??? Is this safe house no longer safe???

Or perhaps… she was just asleep. Or in the shower.

So with all these clues, I think this “complicated canoodling” is a moment of relief. She’s ok!! No need to panic. This time. He’s wearing a coat because he’s just come in. (And I’ve joked before about him bringing home some takeout, but the new shot showing them eating even suggests it might be exactly that that he was carrying in his other hand). 

I think Tony Gilroy is going to be playing with us for however long Cassian and Bix are together in season 2. For very obvious reasons, it’s not going to last. I have a feeling that Gilroy the Sadist is going to have us share Cassian’s extreme concern that he could lose those last few precious loved ones at any time. So much dramatic power in this series comes from knowing the outcome. We know that there will be a “goodbye [to Bix] coming”, as Diego Luna put it in one interview. Not if, but when and how become the big questions. Just like watching a tragedy in the old sense. 

As Cassian unwittingly said to Maarva back in Season 1 , as they part ways: “ I’ll be worried about you all the time.” Her answer, of course: “That’s just love. Nothing you can do about that.”

And as Vel and Cinta are already learning: worry is a constant feature of love at a time of war. The price to pay also when commitment to the cause has to come first. “We take what’s left”. It’s why I think that Bix, just like Cassian, will be fighting to the end and prepared to give up a chance of personal happiness for the greater good.

[thelittlestoflives]

Thank You

soooo i sort of have a whole backstory to the Unravelling the Mystery fic and i just thought welllll i might as well post that too lol!! (i actually have lots of parts and stories)

again, very new to fic writing and i've thrown in some y/n lore in there too!! it's so vulnerable and scary to post stuff you've written (again i suck at proofreading so forgive pls)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

sanji x strawhat!reader, or the story of how y/n became a strawhat and gravitated towards the chef

use of YN, afab reader

cw: stuff to do with horrible exes, forced eating of a devil fruit, being severely injured, slight angst to fluff but mostly fluff i think

wc: 2.7k

It was like a ritual. The breathing in the room evening out, slipping out from under the covers and creeping through the halls towards him. His arms were your salvation, every gentle kiss burning your skin with love, each touch so heavenly you could almost believe in a higher power.

You can barely remember how it began. It's like it's just always been this way.

But it wasn't.

Not when you were stuffed in that barrel, just you and the darkness and the splashing of the waves against the wood, the drip drip drip onto your already soaking clothes. You can't remember how you survived it, how you endured the minutes and the hours and the days you remained in there, physical wounds nowhere near the pain of the scarring on your soul.

And like words out of the holy texts, there was light. A piercing, bright light. But unlike the holy texts, soft mutters echoed in your ears.

"Shit. It's a girl."

"Dammit. So, it's not treasure?"

"She's injured."

"How long has she been in there?"

"Why does this always happen to us?"

“Get her out of there, for fuck’s sake! Why are you all just standing around?!”

Just like that, the light vanished and darkness returned.

When you came to you were in some sort of medical infirmary, the light streaming through the windows so intense that you could barely open your eyes. An assortment of smells hit your nose; disinfectant, bleach, salty sea air, and a bowl of rich chicken noodle soup that steamed as it sat on your bedside table.

Maybe that's when it started. The soup. You stared at it for god knows how long, tears streaming down your face at the act of kindness. The trauma of what you'd just been through vanished staring at that bowl, feeling the love of whoever made it poured into it. Your body had been wrapped in bandages and cleaned, and you wore soft pyjamas that weren't your own, your hair had been brushed, and someone had made you fucking chicken noodle soup.

A couple of days went by as your body slowly healed. The only interaction you had was with the ship's doctor as he tried to make you feel comfortable and safe. You didn't see any of the other crew, but each time you woke from a restless, haunted sleep, there was a steaming dish beside you. Before long, you were strong enough to walk around. Chopper held your hand as he led you above deck to meet the crew who sat around the kitchen table.

You felt shy and nervous. Sure, you'd spoken to pirates before, but always in a controlled environment, never on their turf.

But they were vastly different from the pirates you'd encountered, offering easy smiles and gentle words, coaxing you to tell them what had happened to you. You caught eyes with a man with a cigarette hanging casually out his mouth a couple of times, quickly looking away. Was this where it started?

You explained that you're a journalist on your home island. Or rather, were a journalist. Now? You were dust in the wind, not taking any sort of discernable shape, floating with no direction, no intention, nothing. You thought you had it all; a home, a job you loved, family, friends, and someone who you thought was the love of your life. In less than a week, it was gone.

You had been investigating a cult on your island and stumbled across a giant conspiracy involving the World Government. You had written a tell-all piece, ready to blow the whole damn thing wide open. But you made a mistake, you told your then-boyfriend about it. Turns out he wasn't who he said he was, he was one of them. Sent to keep an eye on the local journalists, he’d pretended to fall for you to keep you close. The cult that terrorised truth seekers from the shadowy underworld was an unstoppable and dangerous force and he was one of them.

They'd captured you, and when the darkness was lifted there was no heavenly bright light. Just a dank basement dimly lighting up your boyfriend's face, grinning from ear to ear as he told you in laborious detail what was about to happen to you. You would eat a Devil Fruit, they would drug you, and you would be forced to do their bidding. No choice, no control, this was it. They’d already done this to every other person who had been investigating them. They had a small army now, he informed you. An army of ‘nosey bastards who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into’. Despite your pleading, he laughed and said that you better get ready for what’s about to happen.

And so they did it. They had it all figured out. They forced you to eat the Devil Fruit, and as its powers flowed through your veins you realised that perhaps they didn’t have it all figured out after all. They didn’t account for the fact that you would be damned rather than be bested by a man.

Your powers erupted out of you, flowing with such a force that all you could do was let out a silent scream, as the shadows wrapped themselves around the foundations of the building they held you in and it collapsed into rubble. 

An arm roughly grabbed you, pulling you out of the wreckage. It had stuffed you in a barrel, and an unfamiliar voice hissed the words: “It’s better if they think you’re dead. If you survive, never return.” 

As soon as the last word of your tale left your mouth, a straw hat was placed on your head, and that’s how Luffy obtained another stray to add to his collection. You became the Strawhats’ Chronicler, your job was to forever immortalise the crew’s journey towards the One Piece and to document how Luffy became the King of the Pirates. Although it was a difficult adjustment at first, you became fast friends with the crew. Robin in particular was a huge help for you, as it was she who understood your plight the best.

Sanji kept his distance at first. You were so beautiful that he knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from flirting, and that was probably the last thing you needed right now, so he resigned himself to being helpful in the background, finding out information about you from Robin and Nami and incorporating it into his cooking. But the two of you were like magnets, unexplainably drawn to one another and soon neither of you would be able to stay away.

You were ripped from your nightmare with such force that you shot upright, sweat dripping down your back. It was the same as always, but tonight you didn’t want to wake up Robin with your tears.

And that’s how you found yourself in the kitchen, face-to-face with a certain chef. He tried not to make a fuss as he saw your hunched, small frame in the doorway, tear-stained cheeks and sleepy eyes. Really, he did. But he’s only a man, after all. He gave you a warm hug and sat you down, making his own special sleepy tea (“I promise you, you will be knocked out after this. No bad dreams for our sweet Chronicler!”).

“I meant to say thank you,” you said quietly as you sipped your tea.

He arched an eyebrow, a gentle blush on his cheeks. “For?”

“The food. When I was in the infirmary, your food made me feel…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed. 

“Made you feel what?”

You look up at him, an amused expression on his face. 

“Your chicken noodle soup made me cry,” you admit softly. “It was the first thing I saw when I woke up, and it’s my comfort food. And I cried. I was so touched that I forgot everything else. I can’t thank you enough for that. I could’ve lost my mind, but that small act grounded me.”

The blush was no longer gentle but furious as his eyes diverted from your face. “Ah. Well, it’s an honour to cook for a pretty girl like you, and even more so that it makes you feel something. So really, I should thank you for your high praises.” 

Your mouth twitched into a smile. “No, thank you!”

His mouth echoed yours. “No, no, thank you!”

And you continued like that, thanking each other more and more dramatically through laughs. The silliness wore off, and Sanji’s face turned slightly more serious.

“Look, I wanted to say something to you too,” he began. “I’m sorry that your ex betrayed you like that. No beautiful lady should ever have to suffer at the hands of a man, much less a man who should love her.”

You blink, suddenly remembering why it was you were here in the first place.

“It’s okay,” you say with a small shrug. “Well, no, it’s not okay but… I dunno. What else can I say? ‘My ex gave me up to an evil cult and altered my life forever and because of him my family think I’m dead and I didn’t even get the t-shirt’? I appreciate that though. I appreciate all of you.”

He blew air out of his nose softly as you tried to make light of what was clearly a horrific situation. 

“Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.” “Thank you, Sanji, same goes for you,” you smile.

He grins back. “No, no, no. Thank you!” 

You laugh and lightly hit his arm. “Cut it out or we’ll be here all night!”

His grin widens. “Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do.”

And maybe that’s where it starts. Those late nights in the kitchen when you both couldn’t sleep, sharing easy conversations and trying to make the other laugh. Warm mugs of tea and knees touching each other under the table. A bubble you created with just the two of you, a sacred space, with none the wiser as to these secret meetings of yours.

It would become routine for a couple of weeks. The nightmares jolt you awake, so you pad through to the kitchen for tea, smiles, and chats. 

“You know, I reckon you’re the beating heart of this crew,” you say as you blow on your tea to cool it down.

Sanji scoffs in derision. 

“No, I’m serious! If Luffy is the soul, then you’re the heart. I see everything you do for the crew, Sanj. You’ve got a kind soul.”

You wished you could frame the look on his face to cherish forever. A mix of gratitude, embarrassment, confusion, denial, and something else. Something you couldn’t quite place. 

“In saying that,” you continue, sipping on the now-cool beverage. “You look tired. If you’re looking after everyone else, who’s looking after you?”

He froze.

Your eyes are trained on his. “Look, there’s a reason we’re both here in the dead of night. You can’t sleep either, can you?” 

He looks down.

“Let me in, Sanj. Let me look after you.”

And he does. He tells you everything, and now the bond runs so deep you’re afraid. After all, the last person you fell in love with lied about it and broke your heart. You couldn’t take much more. But this was different, somehow.

Maybe it started the first night you slept in his arms. 

It was just a normal night. As usual, a nightmare ripped you from sleep. It was a particularly bad one this time, your cheeks wet with tears as you made your way to the kitchen. But when you got there, the lights were off. Panic clawed up through your chest. You’d come to rely upon the chef in the dead of night, and now that he wasn’t here, you were scared to face your demons alone. So, fuck it, you thought. I’ll just go to him.

The men’s quarters were loud. Zoro’s snores cracked through the room, and general grunts and smells and sleepy noises were prevalent, but it didn’t matter. He was there, and he would make you feel okay again.

And once you’d crawled in beside him, and his arms automatically wrapped around you, you knew that there was no going back. You woke up in your own bed, having slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

That night when you met in the kitchen, there was a slight awkwardness that hadn’t been there before.

He cleared his throat. “Did you, uh, did you sleep okay last night?”

“I did. Best I have in a while, really. I’m so sorry if I overstepped or-”

“No! No, I’m sorry for not being here at our usual time-”

“Don’t be stupid!”

“Thank you for-”

“Thank you for-”

You both stopped and he cleared his throat again, cheeks bright red.

“Well, honestly? That’s the best I’ve slept in a while too. So, thanks. And I…” He paused as if building up some courage. “I wondered if you would maybe want to… Do it again sometime. But, you don’t have to and I don’t want you to feel like I’m coming on to you because I know you don’t want, like, romance or anything because of the situation with your ex and-” He began to ramble anxiously, bringing a small smile to your lips.

“Sanji, Sanji, stop! It’s okay! I… I would like that a lot. And so thank you.”

He stopped blabbering and clasped his hands together. “Really?” There was a sparkle in his eyes.

“Really,” you nodded. 

You both built a little routine together. If Sanji wasn’t already in the kitchen, then you’d go to him. Otherwise, you’d meet in the kitchen for your cup of tea, before retiring to his hammock in the men’s quarters. The noises of the sleeping crew around you didn’t bother you at all as you lay entwined in Sanji’s long arms.

One night, you made your way into the kitchen and stopped quietly in the doorway. Sanji had fallen asleep at the table waiting for you. You took in his sleeping figure, the way his sleep shirt clung to his arms and revealed some of his chest. His face was relaxed and peaceful, and god, was it beautiful. Shit, you thought. I’m in way too deep now.

You gently woke him up, and the look in his eyes when he saw your face sent your stomach dropping and mind shortcircuiting. 

“It’s you,” he whispered.

You nodded. “It’s me, Sanj. Let’s go to bed, hmm?”

He had that look on his face again, the one from before when you couldn’t figure it out. But now? Now you knew what it was. It was love. It was adoration. It was ‘you’re my comfort, my safety, you feel like home and I’m at peace’. He stood up and pulled you to his chest, groaning softly as he rested his chin on top of your head. You looked up at him, fondness in your eyes.

“Sanj?” You whispered.

“Yes, my darling YN?” His sleepy voice and eyes were too much. You stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a soft, swift kiss to his lips.

He stiffened, eyes wide. 

“Are you sure?” He whispered. 

You nodded.

His face brightened and burst into a lovesick grin, one hand settling at your waist, the other snaking up to hold the back of your head. He nudged his nose against yours as your lips met, the world melting around you both. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“I want to promise something to you right now,” he murmured. “I promise to protect you, to keep you safe, I promise I will never do anything that could possibly hurt you, and I will hunt down anyone who does. Thank you, YN, for showing me what love could be.”

“No, Sanj… Thank you for showing me.”

His eyes were brimming with tears too, but he laughed softly, unable to resist the urge to say:

“No, no. Thank you.” 

And with that, you went to the safety of Sanji’s hammock, entangled with one another as you pressed burning kisses to each others’ skin, his heavenly touch making you forget what life was like without him. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you know this will never end.

[atamascolily]

Poor Sayaka is really going through it in Walpurgis no Kaiten. First, she loses her healing abilities and gets so badly beaten she has to wear bandages across her face, then her memories start coming back and she has to cope with the fact that her entire life is a lie and she should actually be dead. Talk about trauma!

This shot suggests to me that Sayaka will go on some sort of internal quest to confirm the truth. This show being what it is, it's difficult to say if this scene represents an "internal" journey into Sayaka's mindscape, similar to Homura's first awakening in Rebellion, which features a mosaic of mirrors, or if this is more "external" venture into the Law of Cycles, of which Sayaka is still technically a part, but it's probably "both/and" rather than "either/or". The blue color scheme makes me think the former, but the piles of books with information about witches makes me think the latter. Is the sculpture a representation of Sayaka or is it the "emptiness" of the Law of Cycles without a human avatar?

Comparable scene in Rebellion? Also, I just now noticed that either the mosaics are rotating around Homura, or something very strange is happening in space. Probably both!

I can't find the interview at the moment, but I recall someone at SHAFT discussing how girls taken by the Law of Cycles aren't running around in Valhalla, as fans once thought, but are asleep and unconscious. (Cf. Homura calling it "the salvation of oblivion" in her opening monologue in Rebellion.) In one of my fanfics (itself inspired by a gorgeous series of fanart), the Law of Cycles is an art museum; here, it looks like SHAFT has made it a library, with each "book" containing information about the infinite number of girls and witches in all the parallel universes Madokami oversees. There's a very "Library of Babel" feel to this shot from the trailer that fills me with glee.

It's unclear if the parallel universe thing will come up in Walpurgis no Kaiten, but people have already spotted Magia Record witches in the trailer, and the entire game takes place in a single aberrant timeline, so if it's in the library, the library has to contain everything. How this works when MR has the doppel system, I have no idea, but also MR likely didn't exist in its current state when Urobuchi originally wrote the WnK script in 2014-5, so this is just Inu Curry taking the opportunity to squeeze in some more witches they designed for the game.

However, the MR anime, which Doroinu directed, ends with the doppel system collapsing and Iroha giving the "book" that represents her story to Madokami, appropriately titled "Magia Record". The title of the episode is "No One Knows Our Record", the implication being that magical girls are completely unknown except to the Law of Cycles.

One detail I like is that the English title is "reflected" in dark witch runes like shadows.

This book had a different cover and design than the books we see in the WnK trailer, but I think the general idea is the same--these books contain information about the witches (remember, "Magia" is also the name of the music that plays during witch battles in the original series) and are thus "records" of their existence. We see more of the books in a different shot,and some covers are quite elaborate, and others are a simple gold border; none appear to be "named" like the Magia Record book, or at least their titles are not visible in this shot.

It sure looks like this girl is rifling through the books to find something, doesn't it? Hmm....

The shot of one of these books opening in the second WnK trailer and runes spilling out suggests that more witches have emerged to complicate matters for Homura and the main cast, though "how" and "why" are open questions at this point. However, it's unclear if the books actually contain the witches/familiars themselves or merely information about them.

I think this shot could appear in a cryptic opening sequence that retroactively explains the entire plot, similar to Homura's soul gem falling through the window at the beginning of Rebellion, although the background lighting suggests it takes place in the same "blue" location that Sayaka is in above. TBD!

Giving away the entire plot in the beginning, but in a way that isn't obvious until afterwards, is a Madoka Magica tradition at this point.

Anyway, this is all a very roundabout way of saying that I think that when Sayaka starts having flashbacks about Oktavia, she's going to the library to do some research! And what she finds there will confirm her worst suspicions and likely trigger a whole new personal crisis where her loyalties will be tested and she is going to have to make some difficult choices.

[paintbrushnebula]

How would you have fixed/ wrote tangled the series if you were the executive producer/ creator?

How would you have fixed/ wrote tangled the series if you were the executive producer/ creator?

Hoooboiiii good question!! Haha because like, I’m actually kinda prepared to answer this, because I’ve thought about what I would’ve liked out of a Tangled sequel and, tsk I gotta tell you it’s very VERY different from the series XD 

However even though the series isn’t my idea of a Tangled sequel, if I was at this moment granted a wish that would allow me to magically alter the series as a whole, retroactively, I wouldn’t remove anything that the series introduced, because I like a lot it. I like Varian, I like Lance, I like Adira, I like Bruce Campbell, I like all o’ dem fools. Oh and the bangin’ SONGS YELL HEAH! Good food ^^. I also think the Sundrop and Moonstone stuff, the Demanitus stuff, even the Zhan Tiri stuff all sound cool on paper. Queen for a Day was pretty unforgettable for me so I’m not itching to change that in any major way. I honestly wouldn’t want to change the whole series in any major ways. Just, y’know, fix what’s there. Improve the flaws. Develop the underused characters and backstories. Make Eugene’s story mean something and matter. Make Quirin’s note mean something and matter. Add more moms for crying out loud. Explore Rapunzel’s trauma and actually SHOW us her recovery iIn full detail. 

Oh wait. Actually I WOULD make a dramatic change: Arianna is the focal parent NOT Frederic. That’s literally going hand-in-hand with “write Rapunzel’s recovery better.” She needs to see what a good mother looks like. 

OH KRIFF ONE MORE THING XD yeah Cass being Gothel’s daughter is SOO OUT XD 

Moonsandra can stay but she’s gotta have better motives and an actual set goal or smth Jesus

The Zhan Tiri disciples song a villain song. Heck, Zhan Tiri gets a villain song. OOOF could you imagine Zhan Tiri getting a song in the same vein as “In the Dark of the Night” from Anastasia??? That’d be so cool, oh jeez. 

Also I’d have the broadway stars be casted a little more creatively, like, I love what they did with Eden Espinosa, Jeremy Jordan, and James Monroe Iglehart, but I wish they went even harder with it. Gavin Creel being casted as that disciple (I dont remember his name) is exactly what I mean. Get Andre De Shields as someone! How about Susan Egan? Ooooh please could we get Aaron Tveit in there somewhere? Sigh, in my dreams I guess. 

Oh, and make sure they actually get to sing ^_^

One last major change would be to make Eugene’s mom live alongside Edmund. Literally I dont get the big issue media has with doing the “estranged parent” trope and restricting it to one parent (who is usually the father). Like what is it with Hollywood and writing BOTH parents? What’s wrong with a seasoned older husband and wife reuniting with their son, becoming key supporting characters in the story? 

I like Edmund too much to get rid of him, so. Why not have two cakes? 

Oh btw Eugene’s mom would be Susan Egan. No debate. 

Also I’d have the score be directed a little differently. Have actual leitmotifs that aren’t using music from the songs (as much as I like when that happens). Give Rapunzel and Eugene a “love theme” that also gets used for any time any other character is growing as a person or going through changes, like some type of “dream” theme that represents that character having and pursuing a want or goal. Then when Cass or Varian become evil, you twist that “dream” leitmotif to sound sinister because their “new dream” is something dark and twisted. Then you take that and incorporate it into their themes to make villain themes. Could you imagine if Varian and Cass had leitmotifs used when they were good, then when they betray Rapunzel, those leitmotifs are musically altered to sound sinister??? 

WOof, sorry, this was ramble-y and has poor grammar/sentences. I hope this is all readable XD

[greatqueenanna]

I think the biggest reason for Agnar and Iduna’s failure in handing Elsa’s magic, is that they were so concerned with the direct result of the accident that they neglected their daughters emotional states in the aftermath of the accident. Elsa need emotional comfort that her powers didn’t make her a monster. Anna may have been five, but anything would have been better then leaving her in the dark to think that her sister hated her. And to be clear, I don’t hate their parents. This just came up.

For the most part, I agree. Iduna and Agnarr's choices were extreme because of their fears and they forgot to take care of their daughter's emotional states and better nurture them.

But I also feel that there are still some things to consider here.

Iduna and Agnarr had no knowledge of what Elsa's magic is meant to be or represent. They didn't know where Elsa's magic came from, if they were good or bad, or how Elsa is supposed to control them - or that she even needed to control them in the first place.

As far as they were concerned, Elsa was able to control them just fine and played freely with Anna with no issues. This was just something unique that Elsa was born with and could be easily pursued and studied when the time came for it. No urgency here.

Then Anna got hurt, completely by accident, and almost died.

These mysterious powers, once thought to be just a unique trait, were now shown to be capable of causing serious harm. Now there is a huge urgency to better understand these powers. However, there were no answers - only uncertainties.

Who/what gave Elsa this magic, and why?

What is the purpose of this magic?

Will the magic hurt Anna again?

Will Anna's condition progress again if she sees the magic?

Will the magic hurt someone else this time?

Was the magic capable of hurting Elsa herself?

What would the kingdom think?

Will the kingdom come after Elsa to hurt her?

Will the Kingdom deny her the right to rule?

Would another Kingdom try to attack Arendelle?

Uncertainty leads to fear, and fear leads to bad choices.

Now, I'm not saying "You can't criticize Agnarr and Iduna or want more accountability for their choices." Far from it.

I personally still want closure for the past and hope they finally just let Anna and Elsa talk about it without any subtleties. After all, it was the choices of the parents that led to Anna and Elsa's more serious flaws and its about time to just let the conversation happen. You don't have to paint the parents in a bad light to do this, since they did recognize that what they were doing wasn't working, and died in their attempt to make it right - which is very commendable and heartbreaking. But it also wouldn't hurt the narrative at all by just letting the conversation finally happen.

TLDR - Its easy for us on the outside to say- "Did the parents seriously think that by isolating Elsa and teaching her to hide a part of herself was going to end well, and not add to her trauma of hurting Anna while damaging her self-esteem?" when we know how to control the magic, and what Elsa's magic is meant to be. Actually being in this situation, however, is a completely different story, and there was a lot that Agnarr and Iduna had to consider, including both of their daughter's safety as well as the safety and security of Arendelle itself, as was their responsibility as rulers.

[decaf-mother]

"Lucien"

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MDNI

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A story about the son of Simon Riley.

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Part 2

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Important: Lucien is an oc I recently created, inspired by @sprout-fics take on how Simon would respond to Y/N being pregnant.

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Warnings: Angst, Death, Abandonment, Trauma

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Simon was pleasantly surprised when his son actually agreed to meet up with him, to give him a chance to talk.

Mend old wounds- to try.

18 years.

He's only sent birthday cards and presents for 18 whole years, constantly considering talking to his son but then thinking about his work, about who he was as a person.

His trauma. His past.

How could he possibly be a good influence on a growing child's life?

Now that child has grown up and Simon missed it, a swirling mixture of regret and heartache in his soul. He tried to convince himself it was for the better but he often doubted that decision. Often wondered 'What if I had stayed?'.

-

Lucien clutched onto his mother tightly, thick drops rolling down his cheeks as he cried. The 6 year old little boy quivering within his mother's gentle hold.

"Momma... Does daddy not want me?"

The poor little boy couldn't grasp why his father couldn't be there in person for his party, why he wasn't ever around. His delicate heart shattered and his mom left to do her best to glue the pieces back together.

"No, sweetie... Your daddy just is going through a lot, okay? But he loves us both very very much. We both love you Luci and don't you ever forget that."

-

Lucien tugged on his denim jacket and slipped on his boots, breathing out harshly and trying to hold it together.

He wanted to give his dad a chance.

But how could he ever make up for all that time- how could he possibly explain? How could he ever take the pain away?

Groaning he ran his fingers back through his tousled brown hair, jaw clenching he trudged on down into the direction of the diner.

••

Simon's attention was instantly caught as his son walked through the doors, the first thing he noticed was how similar their eyes were.

Lucien's deep unrelenting hazel gaze locked onto Simon- his father's eyes for sure.

In one quick motion the chair in front of Simon was pulled out, the feet scratching harshly against the diner floor and Luci plopped down into it.

"Go ahead. Talk."

Tone of voice cold and direct- Simon cleared his throat and began his attempt to explain to Lucien best he could. Though it wasn't exactly an easy subject to tackle.

Though after his genuine attempt at explaining he noticed that Lucien hadn't responded at all, gaze still drilling into Simon.

Luci wanted so bad to just forgive his father- but all those years of pain and anger just wouldn't let him, like a festered wound and torn stitches in his heart. All Simon's words sounded like were excuses to him at this point, eighteen years for all this to build up.

A whole eighteen years dealing with everything on his own.

Simon kept eye contact as he could see the pain in those hazel eyes, however there was also a darkness looming- an unyielding storm.

Hatred.

"You left us."

"I know-"

"No. No you fucking don't."

Fists clenching until knuckles turned white, a burning sensation in the back of his eyes tears threatening to form. That broken little boy still inside him.

"She had no one. She raised me by herself. You were never there, you don't know the hell we went through. You don't know."

Simon sat in silence listening closely, knowing he needed to let this out.

"You don't fucking get it!!! You didn't even show up for her funeral!"

That word struck something within Simon, a wave of disbelief washing over him and more pain crawling into his heart.

She's dead...?

A joyless chuckle escaped Lucien as he stood up abruptly, chair nearly falling over and other people looking at them now but he frankly didn't care.

"That's right- you didn't even know she died, did you? Too busy off god knows where leaving your kid and the woman who fucking loved you behind to fend for themselves."

His tears felt like acid burning at the edges of his eyes as he tried not to cry, turning and storming out of the diner and heading back home. He didn't even notice whether or not Simon tried to call out for him.

He just needed to go home. Now.

-

{Lucien is my baby I love him sm he needs a hug so fucking bad. Also yes this is gonna be a series.}

-

{@sofasoap }

-

{More Content}

[starsscarmyceiling]

Gimme some of that Clone Wars AU pls! Stirring the Sky

Hoooo ohhh man, Abby! The origin story to this one is actually pretty funny…and I know I’ve blathered on to you about my fics…BUT for everyone else…so a few months ago, an anon asked me if I had any sort of fic prompt ideas floating around in my head, which you can find here. And what do I do ofc??? Why, write out 5k worth of prompt ideas because a bitch over here can never stfu. And ONE of those ideas…I honestly got really attached to it and I was like…well oh NO I am going to have to write this, aren’t I?? It’s from the “Canonverse Divergent” section, I thought of this Clone Wars AU, and this is the original prompt I wrote:

“Clone Wars AU where Cal and Jaro are assigned to try and recruit the Nightsisters to try and get the upper hand in the war with Dooku (lol I wouldn’t say exactly a Dark Disciple route but that’s up to you). Merrin is voluntold (the opposite of volunteered) by Mother Talzin to try and become allies with the Jedi (they could have their own shady Nightsister ulterior motive going on as well), and Merrin reluctantly goes with the Jedi. And oooooooOoOooo wow the shenanigans that can ensue from that. (Merrin also has to try really hard not to lose her shit over leaving Dathomir for the first time in her life). I’d imagine a lot of frustrations from both parties. The clones mercilessly make fun of Cal and his Nightsister gf (but they also have to tell him what’s up). He thinks she’s unreasonably obtuse and rude, and she thinks he’s frustratingly smug/arrogant. Merrin could prove to be a definite asset in battle. Cal probably thinks it’s hawt 😳 OH NO SHE’S HOT SEE LOOK HOW WE GOT HERE WE LIKE TO HAVE FUN HERE.

Now suddenly she’s mysterious and complex, and he’s frustrated that he wants to know more. He’s actually the sweetest person she’s ever seen and she’s angry about it. She constantly has to check in with her sisters and it’s getting harder and harder to go behind his back or deny that she maybe might not hate him anymore she maybe even may want to smooch him WOAH who knows. They bond over feeling used in this war. Come on. You got it from here right?”

Soooo, YEAH…I gots a little too overindulgent in my thoughts and started writing THIS…but I am so very excited because it’s just the two of them being endlessly frustrated yet hotted up for each other at all times. All the clones ship it HARD. Merrin starts to grow attached to some of the clones that are very welcoming to her…actually fun fact…if you’ve read my fic “what’s grown between (surgery scars)” when Cal told Merrin about his clone trauma…I literally pulled what he was saying from this WIP…HEH…

ALSO, I honestly just want to live my best life and push forward my personal HC that I have of if Cal were older during order 66 or it never happened, him and Jaro would 100% have Jake and Holt energy from Brooklyn 99 agenda.

And I am so very excited to explore a lot of these themes that I’ve brought into my Merrical writing in a setting like this. Cal contemplating his feelings, his so naturally compassionate and empathetic spirit that wants to take care of everyone else before himself, and then someone like MERRIN steps into his life??? OOF I am gonna have some fun with this and the psychometric Jedi and space witch of it all. GOODNESS I am so excited for it.

AND SO…here is a long ass preview because I honestly didn’t know where to cut it off…Cal is answering a comm from their commander, Zand, on his and Jaro’s ship and well he may have sensed a presence while doing so…😏😏😏

When there was nothing there still, he turned once again to his original direction, but as soon as he did, there was a flash of green light and smoke, and suddenly, there was a figure there before him.

“There is no need to brandish weapons or administer threats Jedi,” she stated with her voice laced in malice, which ironically enough did feel like a bit of a threat.

Cal severely balked at this sudden interaction, “Who are you?”

The woman crossed her arms with still a severe expression on her face, “Does it matter? We are all just—unsettling to you anyway.”

His eyes narrowed as he put the pieces together in his head, “Were you—spying on me?”

Her expression changed to that of incredulity as she raised an eyebrow, “You left the door to your ship open.”

It was a bit shocking, her audacity as he bristled all over again, “Are you seriously blaming me for you trespassing onto my ship and listening in on my private conversation?”

This woman, who Cal only now after processing the last several moments did he start to take in her appearance, did give off such an intense energy in the force. Cal felt her ire, her disdain so much so that it almost made him feel dizzy.

A short breath escaped him as he shut off his lightsaber, and all she did was continue to glare at him. She was short statured with light gray skin and intense brown eyes. Her soft features on her face were adorned with tattoos that lined her forehead, her cheeks. And it was all coming to a head, feeling her emotions, his emotions of frustration, accost, but now he was also flustered, bewildered, and definitely anxious.

He hated to think, though it was sad, but true, that he thought she was astoundingly beautiful.

His mind tried to do a complete turnaround because that was very much besides the point, and he did his best to keep his mental shields up, having no idea what she was capable of as she finally continued to speak.

“Though Mother Talzin invited you here Jedi,” she said again with such derision to her words, “do not hold the false notion that you are in any way welcome.”

Cal almost wanted to laugh at her statement, his own ire stacking up again in his mind, and he actually welcomed it as it was much easier to process in the moment than anything else he was currently grappling with.

An exhale escaped his nostrils harshly as he kept up his glare, “Believe me,” he stated with his own contempt, clipping his lightsaber to his belt again, “I would like to get off this force forsaken planet as soon as possible.”

She tilted her head at him, seeming to descry in her own way, which caused the fringe of her silver blonde hair to slightly cascade into her eyes as they scanned over him. It made him—exceedingly uncomfortable for a multitude of reasons he really couldn’t dwell on at the moment.

“That is at least something we can agree on Jedi,” she uttered in a flatter tone than she had before, but still possessed an air of intolerance.

“I have a name you know. Don’t know how I’d get around the confusion of actually just going by the moniker of Jedi,” he stated in what was a mockery of her sardonic tone of voice.

She stood there still for several moments as she raised an eyebrow at him, which to him translated into some form of her being through with his banthashit.

“Jedi…the Jedi?” The Nightsister questioned with a genuine air of perplexment to her voice.

Honestly, once she said it out loud, Cal really wasn’t sure what he was even trying to accomplish. Was he trying to make a joke? Was he trying to be a smartass? Was he trying to break the tension? If Jaro was asked, he’d probably claim that Cal would try and accomplish all of the above.

“What, are you attempting to be clever or snide?” She asked as she began to take careful steps circumventing him, “Or just insulting? You think you can come to my home and disrespect me in such a way?”

Cal crossed his arms as he scoffed, “You’re the one who snuck onto my ship first, Nightsister.”

If she was going to address him in such a way he’d do it right back. He was feeling that petty.

Though, he very much resented himself when his mind flashed with the title ‘Nightsister, the Nightsister,’ and he had to hold back a stupid smirk.

She was temporarily out of his view, though he still felt her, always felt her as she too laughed humorlessly, “You are extremely full of yourself, aren’t you Jedi?”

The way she said it this time seemed to give off the same amount of snark he was emanating.

Cal waited until she was there in his vision again as he slightly upturned his chin to her.

“I bet you’d like to think so, wouldn’t you? Profile me, put me in a box of whatever your false perceptions of Jedi are,” Cal almost barked at her. Force, he didn’t even remember the last time he’d been so irritated with a person.

“And you are not doing the same to me? Making your own assumptions and insulting something you don’t even understand.”

Another scoff was in his throat, “Yeah, and let’s still not forget how you acquired such information from me.”

Her glare was fierce again as the disparagement was almost palpable on her face now, “I only was scoping out the situation because I have my people’s interest in mind.”

Cal realized he was flexing his arms now as they were still crossed over his chest out of sheer frustration, “You could have just asked me you know; I would have been more than willing to speak with you about any such matters that occur with my order.”

“And how was I to know this? All I have heard about Jedi is that they are liars and selfish thieves!” She exclaimed.

Again. He was taken such aback again at the gull.

“And where in the hell did you hear that? A Separatist the people The Republic is trying to stand against?” He said, but then he already had another retort on his tongue, “And for that matter, we were the ones that were invited here and ever since we arrived, all we have gotten from you is blatant disdain when we hadn’t even done anything!”

“None of us wanted you here!”

“That’s not my problem! Don’t take your misplaced frustration out on me!”

His statement seemed to give her pause, and Cal hadn’t even realized that they’d somehow managed to step closer and closer to one another in this skirmish and were definitely in one another’s personal space.

Kriff, how did I end up here?

Her eyes were narrowed up at him as he still found that anger, but he also cornered something else in them that was not easy to place.

“You should have never come to Dathomir Jedi,” she admonished in a strained tone.

A short sigh fell out of his mouth.

“Cal.”

For the first time, he found actual confusion on her countenance, “What?”

“Cal, my name is Cal Kestis, not Jedi. Again, I don’t go by Jedi the Jedi.”

Honestly, he wasn’t exactly sure why he said it. At this point he recognized they were both being assholes to each other.

Her eyes were all over him again though as she leaned back to cross her arms, “Do you think you are exceedingly hilarious, Cal?”

He didn’t know what it was. The concept of his nomenclature was always simple, straightforward concept in his mind, but there was something in the way that she said it, the timbre of her voice, that drove him insane.

And that sort of insanity seemed to have many faces right now, many of which were irritation.

Still, he crossed his arms all the same, “I am starting up my own comedy tour, actually.”

And never in his life, as he was already trying to convince himself that it wasn’t true, had he ever been so…aroused by the utterance of his own name.

This…he needed to get himself out of this situation now.

Her eyes scanned him again, “I do not find your antics the least bit entertaining.”

“Well, I guess I won’t be reserving the cranky Nightsister a seat, now will I?”

A narrowed gaze in his direction now. And he wasn’t sure how he felt—about being under her scrutiny.

“You are extremely arrogant and insolent,” she declared, her eyes still fierce, “but it is not as if that really matters, Cal.”

He was very much resenting the shiver that was sent down his spine.

SOOO YEH, hope you guys are as excited for this one as I am!!! I literally think these two don't even have the ability to be around one another and NOT be super horni right off the bat for each other haha.

SHENANIGANSSSS

[wow-its-me]

Uh oh

Despite not having thought about it for around a year,

I am, in fact, back on my bullshit

I could direct a better ‘Dark and Gritty’ version of TMNT THEN MR BAYVERSE EVER COULD

WHY MAKE A “MORE ADULT” VERSION OF IT OF YOUR JUST GOING TO IGNORE OR GET RID OF ALL THE PARTS THAT ACTUALLY MAKE IT DARK AND THOUGHT PROVOKING

AHHHHH

Give me MCU type shit

Give me an entire movie of splinter telling his HUMAN life story to the turtles. Both the version in the IDW comics and 2012 show are actually really intense but kinda glossed over. His bother (or someone he thought of as his brother) killed his family. It’s a miracle that he made it out, now he has to deal with a lifetime of trauma

A second movie focusing on April and Casey, ones starting freshman year of college trying to balance school (biology major) and helping her mom take care of her sick father. The other failing out of community college, trying to get away from the terrible childhood of his mother passing and his father becoming abusive. Maybe the villain is Professor Baxter Stockaman working with the Purple Dragons, making the unlikely pairs work together. Maybe April is already friends with the turtles, looping them into the plot as very beginner ninjas

A third move wrapping it all up with Karai as the main focus. It bounces back and forth to Saki training Karai and Splinter training the turtles, drawing clear parallels between her and Leo. Maybe they know shredder is coming and they’re preparing to defend themselves. They can both have minor fights with other characters leading up to them all facing off, maybe she almost gets one of them to turn on their family, but in the end she realizes she’s been manipulated and he realizes Splinter may have gone too far. They figure it out, then realize that their long lost family (siblings? Cousins? Whatever just don’t pull a 2012)

They could even continue to expand it with one about Jennika Alopex and the remanence of the foot, mutanimals or mutant city, or even fugitoid and the interdimensional space war arc

Anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk

[scarlet--wiccan]

Lore coming back would be really cool! I hope it is someone with a lot of thought out into it and not just like. Luminous. Do you have any thoughts on how you’d like for it to go?

Also, since stand alone comic arcs are usually 6 issues and pietro, viv, and Lorna all make appearances in the first 3, I kind of hope Billy, Tommy, and Luna (and/or Marya and natalya?) are in the next ones. It’d be nice to at least get appearances from a lot of family members, even if they’re brief.

I'm definitely hoping we see the boys, and I'm really, really hoping they get the same/similar visual treatment as Wanda and Pietro. There is no excuse for Billy and Tommy to be drawn like white bread after all this effort has been put into Wanda's presentation.

Anyway, Lore. This is a character with a ton of built in potential and very little page time, so you could take her in a lot of different directions. If it were me, I would avoid the obvious choices-- I don't want to see her acting as a representation of Wanda's guilt, or a cautionary tale of what might happen if Wanda abused her powers. That's played out, and we've seen it before. I'd rather learn about Lore's homeworld and the other realities that she's terrorized, and find out what kind of awful stuff she's been up to since we last saw her.

I should say, the last time we saw Lore, Wanda threw a sword at her and she exploded, so she's definitely supposed to be dead. We know now that death cannot stop the Scarlet Witch, and Ms. Lore was a necromancer* by trade, so I'm pretty confident she could make a comeback.

Scarlet Witch (1994) #4

Lore would be a perfect antagonist for a story about Wanda's Nexus abilities. To me, the Nexus aspect of Wanda's powers is one of the most interesting and underutilized elements of the character, and I think that now would be a perfect time to revisit it. With so much of Wanda's trauma behind her, there's a lot of new opportunity to explore her unique powers without having to dig up the same old storylines.

In fact, it would actually be really helpful for both Wanda and Billy as characters moving forward-- the Nexus stuff is sort of the key to understanding how their reality-altering abilities are supposed to work, and I think that they'd both benefit from having more clarity and concrete parameters in that area. Neither of these characters actually do well as nigh-omnipotent demigods, at least not without some kind of grounding.

So, yeah, I want to revisit the Nexus aspect of Wanda's abilities and use that re-litigate what, exactly, her chaos magic and reality-altering powers can and cannot do. I think that would be a great way to round out on the growth Wanda experienced in Trial and Darkhold and just bring her to a place where her powers are more easily understood. I want to see Lore to return as an antagonist, but not just as Wanda's dark mirror-- I want to establish her as a villain in her own right, and a multiversal threat that Wanda is uniquely suited to oppose because their powers are so similar.

*This comic uses the word "necromancer" incorrectly. Writers often use "necromancy" to describe any and all forms of death magic, particularly raising, animating, or controlling the dead. This is a common misunderstanding-- in truth, the suffix "-mancy" is derived from the Greek μᾰντείᾱ (manteia) actually refers to divination and prophecy. Therefore, any word ending in "-mancy" actually describes a form of divination, such as cartomancy, which uses cards, or tasseomancy, which uses tea leaves. Necromancy, traditionally, is a form of divination performed by communing with the dead.

That's not really what Lore does. Her powers mostly seemed to revolve around consuming the life force of other beings, along with raising and controlling the dead. She's somewhat like a vampire in that regard, but you could describe her powers as general death magic. Unfortunately, the English language doesn't really have a kicky little suffix to describe general magical practices-- at least, not one that's widely recognized. The Greek for magic is μαγεία (mageia) so I suppose the appropriate derivation would be -magy. So, maybe necromagy?

Anyways, that's just me being a nerd about languages and magic. I think it's important to know these things if you're gonna write about them, even it's not, like, consequential in the long run.

[caatws]

The main themes in gotg weren't congruent with what IW decided to do and that's where it all really falls apart. It's not about IW or Endgame or vol 3; It's trying to have a diverse universe come together while only prioritizing one part of it(the Avengers part) when it came to the guardians. They were the only ones who had so much about their own story run over for the sake of IW and Endgame. Gotg has prioritized abuse and trauma victims surviving to find light on the other side of darkness. Vol 3 is the most specific about this of all 3 films. Having Gamora die at the hands of her abuser in a way that benefited him was the wrong move. Having her come back and deciding to go in a direction away from what was lost made it worse. What Gunn was going for with Gamora would have worked under different circumstances, but under the context of what the franchise was about it just singled her out as the one who had to lose while the others were propped up as mostly winning. There are even near deaths in vol 3 that end up working out for the characters. Then you have the absence of genuine attention to her death and how vol 3 didn't build a ton of story for Gamora's "new life". It felt more like Gamora had chosen to leave her family and this was her new self they had to deal with as opposed to Gamora having her life taken from her and then being thrown into a situation she wasn't prepared for when she came to the future.

Vol 3 having a ton of merchandise that Gamora isn't part of is just another layer of it feeling like she's not being supported and represented when she needs it most. It also calls to question where she belongs which should never have been a question at all. Thanos took her life but he never should be allowed to take her status as a guardian or hero away from her. Giving her a funko pop and saying she's family with the guardians too is honestly the bare minimum they could do and they're still messing it up.

yeahhh i totally agree with you anon. the gotg franchise felt rly cohesive up until they crossed over with the avengers which was a shame, especially cuz i think the avengers could've learned a thing or two or many from the gotg abt how to actually function as a team and be normal lmaooo

it's crazy how even the merch for vol 3 reflects this very specific in-universe character issue that i don't think even most of the general public audience/"locals" are rly picking up on or thinking much abt like damn

[thelogbookproject]

The Unity of Skovlan, Entry 13: Gaeyl

The Unity of Skovlan is an upcoming unofficial supplement to Blades In The Dark about the fall and rise of the Skovlander people. This series explores what it is all about in the leadup to its September release.

Gaeyl, she/her, is the rookie of Alx Squad. Written as “yet to prove herself on the field of battle,” it is notable that Gaeyl managed to get assigned to an Independent Unit like Alx Squad, who are kinda the spec ops groups of the Skovlan military without any real battle experience, but they’re no less capable than anyone else — mostly.

Gaeyl’s biggest contribution to the group isn’t numerical: she’s idealistic, almost visionary in her ideas for what Skovlan could be in a post-Imperium world. It was critically important to me to have a character like that in the Squad because this War, as I feel like I occasionally need to remind people, goes on for 36 years. That’s a staggering amount of time for a near-modern war. World War I lasted five years, WW2 seven. The Napoleonic Wars put together lasted only 12 years. Insurgencies can last a lot longer, and there have been longer wars (the Caucasian War comes to my mind) but usually the aggressor either has other simultaneous wars or there are regime changes, neither of which is particularly true during the Unity War. Holding up idealism and a vision for the future through that much trauma is impressive, and it’s why Gaeyl is here.

Mechanically, Gaeyl actually lacks any dots in direct-offense Actions (Hunt, Skirmish, Finesse, Wreck) but has all four Resolve Actions, making them resilient and giving them a sparkling voice to create advantages with. Still, it’s probably a good idea to make a dot (even just one, it only costs 2 Valor!) in one of the direct offense Actions. As a war story, The Unity War is more likely than base Blades to force players into violent moments, and while Gaeyl can try to Command her way out of trouble, it is very much in every player’s favor to give her a violent outlet. Of course, even zero dots is only 1 Stress away from being 1d6 through Assisting, so she’s certainly not helpless.

This is Lucky, one of Gaeyl’s possible Abilities. An extra mid-Mission way to use Valor, it’s very strong, but Valor is not plentiful and easy to come by. If you’re in a desperate situation though, and you’re rolling enough dice to expect a different outcome, Gaeyl can do anything. It’s also any roll, Resistance and healing included.

This is the unique Gear that Gaeyl can spend Load on. That’s right, Heavy Armor is only for Gaeyl. It leans into the theme of being able to shrug off consequences that Gaeyl has going on, between a re-roll ability, an Attribute of 4, and the regular Armor anyone can pull for 2 Load. Gaeyl is very hard to take down, the force of their spirit too much for any one foe to conquer.

A thing I like about Gaeyl is that she’s pretty canonically quite young. Of all of the Soldiers, Gaeyl is the best-suited to continue play in Fractured Unity if you wanted to remake them into the Echoes. Consider that these characters join Alx Squad at the start of the war, and while I don’t specify an age for anyone, I like to imagine that Skovlan doesn’t do child soldiers, so after 35 years of fighting, no one is less than 50 years old. Again, that’s a staggering thing to imagine. If you get Calibri, Fane, Garm, Kelld, Maela, or Tillery through to Doskvol and they still have enough fight left to serve, good for you, but Gaeyl has the never-surrender idealism to be the cornerstone of the Echoes, and their youth puts them in position to still be ready to fight a long fight. Gaeyl can also wind up in almost any playbook in Fractured Unity, depending on the course of the War for them. They’d be a weird Ground (as would any member of Alx Squad), but becoming a Chronicle, Cutter, Hound, Slide, or Lurk are all pretty easily in reach, and the Mend, Leech, Spider, and Whisper aren’t that tough to get to either.

Next time, we’ll discuss the ace sharpshooter of the Squad, Garm.

The Unity War releases for PWYW on September 1, 2023. Check out https://tinyurl.com/tuos-details for the rest of this series! Sign up for my Patreon at https://patreon.com/thelogbookproject for a preview, and full early access to the game! See you Wednesday!

[cryptid-killjoy]

Nagging was a perception. He wouldn't consider asking questions of him nagging when he wanted the questions to be asked. Bastien was the sort that needed reminding everything was still safe often or he'd forget and revert back to old thinking. That was the problem with trauma. It kept a mind trapped in a space they didn't want to live in. Even when they weren't there or even actively thinking about it their body had a way of reacting first, thinking later. He didn't want to seem like he wasn't cooperating and make it feel like she had to nag to get anything out of him. Still, she said trying was enough for her. If he was going silent or dark he might just need a reminder things were okay and safe in the now.

It would hurt his heart to realize she interpreted it as such or made her made her feel that way about him because she wasn't crossing any of his boundaries to speak to him. It was so wanted if he didn't notice he was clamming up again or staying too long in other worlds. He'd never want to neglect his family. His brain would have hurt thinking about it. Had he known he would likely suspect it was ingrained in her by her very wrong family always being treated as someone unable to voice herself. Strike that. She spoke but wasn't heard. The type of family that likes to proudly portray positivity and inclusivity while being the most toxic of all. The type that doesn't listen. They were too busy preaching it and patting themselves on the back for it to actually walk it.

"I just need a little help sometimes. But, cool then." So that ended that.

When she wore black all he could think was hot wife. That's my hot wife. Good god look how hot my wife is. That's seriously my wife.

Definitely wife material.

She just said she loved his hammer. He had a bit of an obsessive attachment to it after feeling so special when Delta presented it to him like he was being knighted like some type of royalty. He'll never forget Delta's words. They've had so many chats. But, she told him the difference in a soldier and a warrior was a soldier takes commands and a warrior defends his own. She said she might tell him what to do, but never forget you do this because it's your home now too. Delta's commands weren't mindless or some corrupt government who got him from the draft. His job was his home. No one could be more passionate about a job than that.

She mentioned a jester for Halloween. He smiled a bit and shrugged thinking it was a bit over done as cool as jesters were all things considering. "I just... I just liked the idea of us matching this time." He didn't want to be a jester. "I don't want to be a jester. Reminds me of a bad day. Some...thing...in... the... past. I don't want to be a fool. Even a pretend one. Story my Dad used to tell me. I don't think I'd be good at it. " His voice was a little haunted and then he shook it off. "You'd be good at it I bet. Just like Piper and Clopin. It's in your blood."

She seemed to like the bone idea though. He started grinning again. "Yeah. I would. I'll trust you with my hammer, but just you."

"You're right. We could use real bones. How very authentic of you. Good idea. I'm taking this as a yes? You and me? Pebbles and Bam Bam? I think that sounded like a yes."

He was also the sort of guy that needed direct answers. She didn't say yes at all. She said fun idea and then countered as if trying to talk him into something else. So, he more or less took that as a no at first, but then she grabbed onto the bone idea and it started to sound more like a yes. It was a very confusing answer actually.

"Or what? Are you wanting to brainstorm more? If you want to be a jester, go for it, but I just don't want to be anything that goes with it. It won't be good for me. The King of Fools story is how Dad taught me to stay in the circus and not wander around at night or go into the city without them. I'll come up with something on my own if you're doing that and not wanting to match me. But you have to make the call, babe. I might just be Pebbles either way actually. I'm into the bone hair now that I've thought about it."

Then he went ahead and stood up after doing a quick body wash rinse all over from head to toe. It was a quickie bath. He walked to the other room while drying off to find something in his bag that was fresh and clean to start the day off fresh and clean and laid it on the dresser. He stepped into a pair of boxers. That's all he'd keep on for now since they were staying in for the night. Everything would be all set for the next day. He even went back into the bathroom to gather up his other ones and put them away. Then he'd brush his teeth and put on his deodorant. It might have been a quickie wash but he felt refreshed anyhow after that flight and conversation. The sex probably helped.

The good thing about both of them going at their own pace in this relationship, whether it was Maddy and the trauma, or Bastien with his own, and feeling like he couldn’t open up to his wife without an argument, was that everything that did come out, each step taken, was extremely genuine. They made big strides today with their ‘downer’ conversation.

“That you try is all that I ask, baby,” She said, softly. Bottling that shit up hurts. Caused more pain in the long-run. But she would still never try to force him to let anything loose, to speak. Nagging wasn’t going to be her style.

Maybe flying to a third world country to visit a prison didn’t sound like most people’s idea of fun but Maddy was on board. Bastien was giving away all of his fortune, which was impressive. That showed exactly the kind of person that he was. The rich girl married the man who didn’t give a damn about money, about the material things, about wealth and status. It gave her a new perspective that she had been needing. And she was proud of him for following through.

“And we’re going to have so much of it,” She said with a smile, believing that. Not just introducing Frankie to a new culture, like with France, but experiencing all of the new stuff herself. Picking up a phrasebook and trying to get the basics of the language out of respect. Of course the first phrase she looked up was ‘I love you’ because she never wanted to run out of ways to say it to Bastien.

Now that this talk was over with, things resolved, they could go into tomorrow feeling lighter, hopefully. Have less weighing down their minds.

She loved those letters, that name. And she loved the ones that she had on her own hip. It had taken a while for her to get there but once they were done, once he was a part of her for the rest of her life, she didn’t have a single regret about it. When she was having a good day, when it was warm, and she’s wear more of a crop top, it wasn’t to try to show off her body, it was to show off that scar, to announce to the world that she was a loved woman, as if it could ever have forgotten with the Paris ring on her finger.

She giggled a bit at his reaction to her words. “That’s true, but I know you’ll always take care of me, no matter where we are.”

She wore black for him. Sometimes she’d have those moments of ‘I want to wear this for me’ and that was all well and good but when she reached for the black? Always, always, always for him. Just in case something like this were to happen. It was always good when something like this happened.

Everything was beautiful. God, she loved bathtubs. God, she loved when her and Bastien were in one together. The slipperiness of the tub and the way that it was hard to get any purchase was just another reason to laugh and to smile as they slid against one another. The lip of the tub was great to hold onto when he filled her, the echoes around the small room when she moaned his name the same way that people said Amen at the end of a prayer.

He could hoard her. He could keep her. He’d been keeping her since he marked her the beautiful way that he did. A kept woman. Wife material.

The warmth of the water was nothing compared to the warmth of him spilling inside of her the way that he did. That was the hottest feeling of all. Painting her insides white, that’s what it felt like when he had a big load like he did right now. She kissed him, giving him her own heat with her lips and her breath, to try to match what he had given her.

It also turned out that having sex in a bathtub was kind of tiring, so she was ready to just fall right into Bastien’s lap until she could feel all of her limbs again - but the sweetness of him pushing her wet hair out of her face, and then that amazingly sweet thing that he said - that warmed her right back up. Another thing that she had gotten used to over the last two years - the long pauses in conversation and then bringing it back up again. It wasn’t something she minded. They had a lot of time. “Born to be,” She agreed.

And then he went back under and she watched him, head cocked slightly. She wondered sometimes what he was thinking of when he went into those little spaces. He had his own world. She absent-mindedly counted the seconds under her breath and then was relieved when he came back up before she got to a minute, or longer than that. Oh, of course that’s what he was thinking of - the most romantic proposal in all of history, according to Maddy Bellerose. She thought of it whenever it was this time of year too. And remembered how lucky she was to have a man that wanted her that much.

He even rhymed bright and night which was a cute touch, even if it was unintentional.

“The most beautiful night of my life. I love your hammer,” She grinned. There was nothing safer than Bastien and that hammer. She didn’t have to depend on her shields. One wrong move and he was right, ka-bam bam. She would never forget even before that, at the Funkytown party, when someone touched her and Bastien looked like he was ready to set them on fire, reaching for his lighter. Fuck feminism, she loved a man that could protect her after all that she had been through. Shields didn’t always work. Hammers had a one hundred percent success rate.

“That’s a fun idea,” She agreed with a nod. “I was originally thinking something like .. a jester to commemorate the other side of Papa, but I haven’t set it in stone or anything.” She ran her fingers through his wet hair now, trying to imagine what it would look like white. With a wig or .. one of those hair sprays. As long as it didn’t mess with his head too much, seeing different shades of hair in front of his eyes.

And then he made her laugh even harder at the thought of him with the bone and the ponytail. “You would really let me hold your hammer?” She asked, thinking that might just be one of the best honors that he could bestow upon her. “Well, it would be very easy to find bones in Feral.”

[scorpionyx9621]

TW: Death, Queerbaiting, and Voltron

Like I'm sorry y'all I'm just as hyped for the new content as much as anyone but the second I heard Lauren Montgomery was the one directing the first animated movie my heart sank to my god damned stomach.

For those of you who don't know, Lauren Montgomery was one of the co-directors for Voltron: Legendary Defender with fellow LoK creative director Joaquim Dos Santos. For those of you who very fortunately were not on this god forsaken hellsite between the years of 2016-2018 VLD had this website by the god damned throat. From seasons 1 through debatably 6 it was a genuinely good, if weirdly paced show. Then from Season 7-8 the show went down the shitter. FAST.

To make a long story very short that can be easily explained much better than I ever could by a brilliant YouTube miniseries by The Sin Squad. Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos both had an original script that involved killing off one of the characters, but were forced by their production company DreamWorks to keep said character (It's Shiro.) Alive because DreamWorks correctly predicted that Shiro would become the favorite character of the show.

How did Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos react to this news that they had to re-write a heavy portion of the show just to keep Shiro alive? Well they made it work for Season 3-6 with minor jabs towards DreamWorks here and there. Yet the second they could get Shiro introduced fully back into the team on Season 7 onwards they do a litany of things ranging from pretty good to exceptionally bad.

Announce that Shiro actually died but we're gonna fudge with reality and our own universe to bring him back (cool I guess)

Instead of expanding upon Shiro's role as a leader and a character just designate him as a talking head and a wallflower until they get back to earth (Bad)

Upon getting back to earth, the show shoves a half-baked romantic subplot for Shiro involving another man whom we know Jack and Shit about only to have him be on screen for all of like 4 minutes, 3 of them he's fighting with Shiro, and the last 1 minute he's dying. Perpetuating the bury your gays trope yet again. (very derogatory and bad)

Take a character who literally could have been the champion of diversity in an animated show (A gay, physically disabled Japanese man suffering from PTSD) and turn him into a wallflower for what could have been a fantastic growth opportunity and just have him go through even more trauma all for shits and giggles. (Hatred)

LM and JDS both fully admitted that they did all of this and the reason for this being largely because of their resentment towards DreamWorks and they both regret how the show ended. (*Screams into the dark, cold, uncaring void*)

I do not mean this post to be an attack towards Lauren Montgomery. She has a family and loved ones who care about her, sh does not under any circumstances deserve harassment or threats. She is a professional writer who makes a whole lot more money than I do and is able to churn out a literal multi-million dollar franchise in less than 3 years. Even if said franchise crashed and burned in a way that is only comparable to the finale of HBO's Game of Thrones. She has the professional chops and I don't. I am not at all trying to say I could ever fix Voltron after the literal maelstrom of a shit storm it became with the fandom literally threatening to kill people over ships.

But I am never going to forgive her and Joaquim Dos Santos for what they did to Takashi Shirogane. Ever. And after hearing the announcement this morning that she's at the helm of this upcoming animated movie I cannot in good faith just sit by and let people not know what she has done. Yes you can call me a crazed Shiro Stan. You wouldn't be wrong. But Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos both tortured and maimed a disabled Japanese character and turned him gay only for the woke points and to create more pain. They never wanted to make Shiro gay in the first place because they never wanted Shiro to be alive at that point.

I am happy to see that the Team of Bryke is working very closely with Lauren Montgomery on this if only because they were they original creative directors, but if I were in their position being forced to give one of the highest positions to a well known and documented bad-faith actor, I'd keep her on as tight a leash as possible. I'm still going to watch the movie, but I am going to be hyper-vigilant about the fact that Lauren is the one at the helm. I want this movie to succeed just as much as anyone else, but like I said, I cannot in good faith just stand by and let it not be known what Lauren Montgomery has done and what she could be capable of doing again.

[cillspropertea]

Flipped

Chapter 13: Office supplies

The reader is Aberama Gold’s eldest daughter, Esmeralda Gold in this fic.

 Warnings: conversations about past traumas, mention of alcohol. 

 This fic might have dark themes which may irritate or offend some readers. But if you’ve seen Peaky Blinders and are familiar with Thomas Shelby, you’ll be okay.   The story, plot, character histories and back stories might not be relevant to the original “Peaky Blinders” . Warnings will change per chapter. This is my first fic. Hope you all like it. English is not my first language.

 Do not hesitate to comment, reblog and engage. It works as fuel for my writing. 😉💙💙

 Synopsis: Your father’s one mistake shall alter your life’s direction forever.

  Word count: 2852

Thomas Shelby

   Later Polly had come in with Charlie who had literally jumped on Thomas from his Granny’s arms. Tommy felt ridiculous for thinking his son had started to hate him. Betrayal is the only word that could have described Tommy’s feelings when he’d noticed Charlie had changed his direction towards Esmeralda.

“Are you okay?” Polly asked at now smiling Tommy, letting Charlie play with his fingers. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Tommy replied frowning. “With the way you reacted, I thought you’d be sulking in your office.” Polly had raised an eyebrow. “No. It was just… a bit unexpected what this boy did out there that’s all…” Tommy admitted. “Unexpected. Like father like son eh?” Polly shook her head, smiling.

   After a few moments, when Polly was sure Tommy’s mood was okay she spoke again, “Did something happen while I was gone?” Tommy’s guard went up immediately, “What do you mean?” He said settling Charlie on his lap and giving him a blue binder clip to play with. “You know, anything unusual? Esmeralda seems a bit shaken…”

   “She had a panic episode of sorts last night.” Tommy spoke before letting her complete. There was no way he could tell her what else had happened after that. It was one of his mind tricks, give something to hide something in return. Always worked. “Oh dear!” Polly’s hand went to her mouth.

   “She kept on talking about people with pitchforks and torches coming to get her…” Polly rubbed her temple, getting tense. “I wish none of that would have happened. Not to her neither to her mother… Those fucking Golds! They are a disgrace to human beings.” Polly said looking up at the ceiling, feeling tired all of a sudden. Just then Tommy noticed Charlie had fallen asleep in his arms, the binder still in his hands. He smiled shaking his head a little. Of course that little man was tired, he’d travelled for so long to get here. He called Frances to take him to his room. When she tried to take the binder from him he started fussing in his sleep, his grip tightened on it. Tommy asked her to leave it with him, that it was okay.

   Only when Frances had left did Tommy acknowledge Polly still sitting on the chair in front of his table. He had to call her name a few times to bring her back from wherever she had transported herself to. “She went to see Esme too. Talked to her on the phone first but she talked in Romani so Maggie did not have a clue what the conversation was about.” Polly nodded, still a bit dazed. “They are technically family you know…” She said. Tommy’s frown deepened. “Her mother was from the Lee family. Her actual mother… Probably why she was punished and killed the way she was too…” Tommy leaned back in his chair, putting one leg over the other, pushing Polly to say more. “Why sudden interest in her?” Polly asked with a tilt of her head. “No interest, just curiosity.” when she still did not elaborate Tommy added, “Last night, she said something. I just need to make sense of it. That’s it.” Polly got up and poured herself a glass of whiskey and then decided to bring the bottle with her to Tommy’s table. “I’ll need this then…” she said before continuing.  

  Esmeralda Gold

    Esmeralda had cried after coming back to her room. Not for the very obvious reason alone but because of one other one too. Her heart was shattered more than once today. First, when that woman had come out of Thomas’s room and then second, when Charlie had come to her instead of his father. She loved the little guy dearly, but the affection that little angle had bestowed upon her had simply reminded her of how she shall never be able to have one of her own. The curse had been confirmed, she’d called Esme the next day to confirm it to Jan to proceed. She wasn’t regretting it, she wasn’t a child who had taken that decision in the heat of the moment but this little gesture by Charles had just reminded her how big of a cost she had paid in order to extinguish the burning hell inside of her.

   And then it was about Thomas as well. And that, she admitted to herself, was a child’s decision. To give away her heart like that. To a man who himself was absolutely heartless. She should have guarded herself more. Shouldn’t have let him see her vulnerable side that easily. Shouldn’t have opened herself up to him too. She took a deep breath wiping her face. ‘What’s done is done. No need to fret upon it now… I’ve been perfectly fine until now, on me own. And I’ll be perfectly fine after this moment as well.’ Getting up she’d sorted her appearance and walked out of her room. She had to distract herself.

     First she went to see Charles, but the baby was asleep, she was informed by Frances. Because of that she couldn’t practice her shooting as well, it would wake the baby up. She made a mental note to insert the shooting practice between Charles’s sleeping hours and playing time for the next day. Then she decided to go to the stables.  There was a new horse there. Brought in just a few weeks ago. A jet black mare. She could hear the horse a long way back before she saw what was actually happening. Curly was trying to put a saddle on her and she wouldn’t let him, running wildly in the ground near the stables. When it almost kicked him in the face with her back foot Esmeralda chuckled. “This aint right Miss Gold… you laughing at me like that…” Curly said huffing towards her, seemingly given up on the horse, who ran flamboyantly, mocking him further. “Please don’t call me that… Esmeralda is fine.” She said. “And I’m sorry I laughed. I couldn’t help it.”

   “Oh no need. This ones the devil I tell ya. Been working on her for days but nor siree, won’t even let me touch her. Acting like a posh lady that one…” Curly’s scrunched face made her smile even broader. “Can I give it a try? If you don’t mind of course…” she asked sincerely. “Oh I don’t know. If you get hurt Polly would have my neck…” “Nothing will happen. I know what I’m doing… with that she climbed the fence. “You know horses?” He asked curiously. “Yeah. They are not my favorite but yeah, I’ve worked with them all my life so…” she walked towards the now grazing horse right on the other side of the fenced ground.

 Thomas Shelby

His car moved swiftly, blowing dust in its wake. He sat puffing his cigarette quietly. He was dreading the long travel, but it could not be avoided any longer. He had been travelling for a few days now, first by the boat then by the road. Things were getting out of hand with Luca Changretta and he had to get an upper hand somehow. His mind was reeling from the events of the past two days. Twice he had been attacked, twice! While being on the road. But both the times they did not try to kill him. Both the times his men had been injured, one killed but they hadn’t harmed him or tried to fire at him. It was making him suspicious. He had to put an end to it. As soon as he could. It had been going on for too long now.

   He took another long puff from the cigarette, willing his mind to stop thinking about the vendetta, after all that had been all he’d been thinking about ever since he’d gotten on the road. His mind went back to the day Charlie had returned. He had done it on purpose. He’d called that Russian Duchess in the wee hours of the morning. She and her family had been insistent to an extent for quite a while now to do business with him. It was a strategy of sorts to make their niece sleep with him, to find his weakness perhaps or simply to dominate him once they succeeded to make him attached to Tatiana emotionally. It was evident that they did not know Thomas Shelby well enough to understand how this plan would never work. Thomas was too clever and cold hearted.

    Grace’s voice still rang in his head from the other night after he had returned to his room from Esmeralda’s. And every word she had spoken was right. He did not deserve Esmeralda. After everything he’d done to the world, to innocent people, to Grace, he simply did not deserve any sort of contentment or happiness at all. Not in this life at the very least. He deserved the loneliness, the guilt and remorse which he already felt with every breath he would take for every moment of the rest of his life. So he knew, he knew he had to crush the hope and love he’d seen in Esmeralda’s eyes that day and in himself as well. Before it became something stronger, something from which walking away could get impossible. So he had called Tatiana Patronova, a Russian Duchess, and had made sure Esmeralda saw her leaving his room in the morning. He’d fucked her hard.  But throughout the ‘session’ he simply couldn’t stop thinking about Esmeralda. The way her body had felt in his arms, God he would do anything to feel her up again. She was all he wanted to feel, over his body and in his heart. But he knew that sort of heavenly contentment was not in his fate. He had to turn her away, had to force her away from him. It would be like freeing a bird from a cage or a slave from captivity. A slave who herself wanted to be in the cage while the master wished to free him. The thought made him chuckle out loud. Who would have thought, Thomas Shelby would turn a woman down, that too as breathtakingly beautiful as Esmeralda.

    But Esmeralda’s reaction had surprised him. He was expecting her to break, to shatter but she hadn’t. She’d simply stood there as if reciprocating his own coldness in his face. Had he misjudged her intentions towards him? Had her kiss simply been a heat of the moment kind of thing? Usually he could read people quite easily but with Esmeralda he was definitely struggling. Something similar had happened with Grace if he could remember correctly. When she had betrayed him while working for Inspector Campbell. It seemed like Thomas’s mind fogged whenever his heart got involved in the matters. The way she did not even flinch when she saw Tatiana made him confused and irritated. He hoped Esmeralda did not catch his gaping mouth after Tatiana had left. So was he the only one whose feelings were involved between the two?

    But then Charlie had walked towards her. Ignoring him as if he did not even exist. God he wanted to destroy everything. The anger he’d felt was unbearable. That moment had caught him off-guard. But when she’d picked him up. The way she had caught Charlie in her arms and the way Charlie’s little hands had cradled her face, he’d felt his breath whoosh out of him. He wished he had some sort of means to capture that moment. It was perfection. It was obvious what his boy was asking for. He wanted Esmeralda in his life. But didn’t Thomas belonged to Grace? Wouldn’t even thinking in that direction be a sort of betrayal to his dead wife and the mother of his only child? Before anyone could have noticed his emotional state, he’d simply walked off to his office.

   But what Polly had revealed, about Esmeralda, made him feel worse than he was already feeling. The girl was utterly broken. From what his aunt had told him, she’d probably never felt loved, important or appreciated ever in her life. And then that wager had simply multiplied her misery and torture which she’d endured all of her existence. No wonder she was having nightmares about it. It also cleared up his mind from the Esme fiasco. Maybe she’d went to see her mother’s side of the land, trying to connect to her roots with the Lee family. There had been numerous calls after that day to Esme too but Thomas wasn’t suspicious anymore and never listened into the conversations even if he had the chance to do so. Polly’s involvement in her mother’s demise explained her affection towards Esmeralda too. Thomas and Esmeralda were back on square one again though. They did not talk or acknowledge each other’s presence at all as if competing in who can show more coldness and bitterness towards each other. But in truth both of them could feel the other one right across the room. Their hearts always skipped a beat when their eyes met.

    But this had made his belief even stronger that she deserved someone better than him. He would try and make sure she found the right person to live her life happily with. Provide for them and their offspring as well. He would only bring more chaos and damage to this girl’s already broken soul and that wasn’t right. The car stopped as the driver announced they’d arrived at their destination. His friends ‘bakery’ in Camden Town. “Hello friend… It’s been a while isn’t it?” Alfie said with raised arms as Thomas got out of the car.

-----

    Alfie’s office was just as Tommy remembered. Stuffy, smoky with his table in utter mess. He sat and waited patiently while his friend looked for something noisily in the back. “Just a moment Tommy I hope you don’t mind yeah? I need to find something I lost yesterday in this pile of shit here…” He kept on moving things while furiously looking for something. “Ah! Found it!” Tommy turned around and saw Alfie bringing a stuff toy’s head out, dusting it off. “I lost it yesterday and Cyril had been chewing my ears off because of it… So!” he sat down on his chair getting out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from under his table. “What brings you here today eh?”

   “Nothing much Alfie. Maybe I was just missing ya” Tommy tilted his head. Alfie shook his head, “I know you Thomas. You always come to me when you’re in deep shit and I come to you when I’m in deep shit. That’s how our thing works yeah!?” Thomas smiled and downed the whole glass. “And usually… we both know about the shit already before either of us even meet. So, tell me Alfie, what can you do to help me with my vendetta with Luca Changretta eh?” Alfie frowned, acting as if he had no idea what Thomas was talking about. Tommy sighed deeply, just about to begin to explain what was going on when Alfie spoke up, “I do know you have been attacked twice on your way here… Seriously my friend, you mustn’t have travelled in these circumstances… it’s too dangerous!” Tommy cleared his throat, “I did ask you to come down there, but you said you were in the middle of a family emergency.” Alfie frowned for a moment, deep in thought, “Oh yeah! Cyril wasn’t well. I couldn’t have left her like that now could I?” Thomas almost smiled, “Besides, It is you who needs my help. It was only right that you came here no?” Thomas knew Alfie was enjoying this, him asking help. But he knew he would have to let him, it was true, he was in trouble and he needed his help. “I have a plan. We can make it work…” Alfie cut him off, “If I were in your place I’d ditch the plan and worry about the attacks Tom.” Thomas sat straighter, “What do you mean?”

    “I mean how are they so up-to-date with your current positions? How did they know your route and how have they been following you through that route?” Thomas thought about it. No one knew where he was heading except… home. He’d been calling Arrow house on every stop. “Yeah yeah! You get it now don’t you?” Thomas’s eyes sparked as Alfie smiled after putting one foot on the other on his table. “You’ve got a mole in your household!”

-----

    Thomas came out of the bakery saying his good-byes for now to Alfie. He had agreed to help him out and if everything went according to Thomas’s plan, things would be sorted out in no time. A good mile on the road he saw a white envelope near his feet. Picking it up, it felt heavy. He asked Robert if anyone had been near the car to which the driver had simply shaken his head. Opening the envelope, Thomas’s face drained of color. There was nothing else in the packet other than a blue paper binder.

[peachyqueenly]

Okay so perhaps how I’ve said I see White Lily and DE has been confusing in the past, so let me try to explain it now that I think I have better words to do so-- putting this under a read more cause it got long.

We have the original White Lily-- she was sweet and kind. Wanting to help Cookies. She didn’t ever go out of her way to hurt others, and when she did hurt others on accident she felt terrible about it and owned up to it. Her moral ambiguity/greyness comes not from her lack of morals, but in how she can lose sight of them sometimes due to her curiosity. Even after being traumatized by a truth so ghastly it’d hurt anyone, her first response was a. how she needed to tell the others, and b. to try and help the Cookies at the banquet from succumbing to their fate, despite it seemingly being too late for them.

... when she fell into the dough, two souls came out of it.

You have DE, for one. DE is... but isn’t Lily. It’s complicated. DE is in direct opposition to the things White Lily believed in-- she is 100% willing to hurt others (even those under her-- Pom even isn’t immune to her anger and wrath when she’s feeling bad enough). And shows no remorse for said pain. However, there are parts of her that are directly informed by how she was once White Lily. Her feelings regarding Pure Vanilla for one-- I don’t think its complicated, she clearly just wants him dead imo. Which makes sense she likely has grown to see him and the other ancients complicit since they won’t give up their Soul Jam. But her seeing them as complicit is informed by the memories of Lily’s that stayed in her body.

For two, she does seem to put on the facade of caring for others like Lily did. It’s often how she ropes her minions in-- to offer them a place beside her and to give them what they desire. I could see this being a twisted version of Lily’s actual desire to help others.

The other Soul is who one would think of when we think of White Lily. How she came out of this is unknown as the story is incomplete-- my current guess is maybe something to do with the Soul Jam? As we have proof the Soul Jams carry the essence of their owner, yet have a personality and thoughts all their own. So perhaps as Lily’s original body was soured and burnt, her Soul Jam separated itself into a new conscious similar to the original White Lily.

I think they both had the memories-- but responded differently. From White Lily’s description in the artbook, its suggest the memory loss happened after the Dark Flour War. Saying she woke up somewhere with no memories of the past.

But yea. The two of them come from the same source, but they have gone on to live very different lives. And have handled things differently, so treating them as the same is reductive. It’s kind of a Ship of Theseus conundrum-- how much of the original White Lily can you take away before they’re no longer White Lily? DE has a unique appearance (yes they have things in common but there are still notable differences in design language), shifting personality, and different goals from her original counterpart. Some of her feelings are informed by who she split off from, and some of her personality is a twisted version of who Lily once was. But she outright rejects being Lily-- and Lily herself would likely reject DE as well (I mean she did fight her with the other ancients). So at this point, the two have gone on to live separate lives despite coming from the same source.

They read as two different sides of trauma-- repression vs anger. The White Lily that came from this either doesn’t remember what happened, or she chose not to tell the other four to run from the truth. DE meanwhile is so full of hate and rage from the truth that... its blinded her to the pain and suffering she’s causing other Cookies. She is now a monster Cookies fear too. 

That’s not to say anger isn’t justified when it comes to trauma-- but there’s a line in how much you can take it out on others before it becomes a problem. While being angry and frustrated due to what happened to you is extremely valid, taking it out on others who had nothing to do with it is a line crossed. And DE has long since crossed that line-- arguably traumatizing other Cookies now too.

To others though I can see how she is justified and sympathetic-- I can 100% see and understand that angle. I just personally don’t cause I know what both repression and anger from trauma feels like. And while anger from trauma is justified, owning up to it and recognizing you’ve hurt others is important too. And DE is completely unwilling to do that. 

[s-brant]

Baby Names

(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.

A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!

Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.

Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.

To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.

They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.

So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.

Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.

"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."

She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.

The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.

Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.

Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.

"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."

Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.

She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."

John Booker Routledge-Maybank.

Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.

Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.

It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.

She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.

Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.

"This crib is so fucking—"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.

She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.

"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.

It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.

There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.

The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.

"This is about John B?" he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.

Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.

"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."

With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.

He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.

One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.

He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."

This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.

"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"

His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.

Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.

Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.

They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.

In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.

JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.

In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.

He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.

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