#cuckoo fanfiction

[endofradio]

TRUE ECOLOGY — PROLOGUE

WARNINGS: n/a

NOTES: sooo i’ve decided to start writing a cuckoo fanfiction! i promise that i haven’t forgotten about my abigail fanfic, it’s just i am so deep into cuckoo brainrot right now 💀 and, yes! salem’s faceclaim is sophie thatcher because she slays

SUMMARY: salem wakes up to see that her mother is nowhere to be found. it seems that she’s disappeared out of thin air, but there’s more to the story that she doesn’t know.

WORD COUNT: 1,126 (short, but the next chapters will be MUCH longer)

TAGLIST: @lokidoki9 @trelaney @kolcheksluver @simpingforclaudette @blackwolfstabs @actually-adambarrett @samcrpnters @13th-floor-in-moonstone @fran-tau @starryrevelations @spookyspecterino (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, feel free to message me!)

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. don’t be shy!

When Salem woke up, the first thing she noticed was that everything seemed quiet and… empty. Something didn’t seem… right. Slowly, she rose from her bed, deciding that she might as well investigate.

As she wandered throughout the house, she observed how it was still dead quiet, quiet enough to where one could hear a pin drop. The ticking of the clock on the wall was the loudest sound in the house at the moment. Normally, by this time of day, Salem’s mother would be up and about. She always made breakfast around the same time every morning. Today, the kitchen lacked the warm, fresh smell of pancakes.

Salem tried not to think about it too much. Maybe she just overslept… maybe she wasn’t feeling well. But… there were completely no signs of life. Her father had recently returned home for a brief holiday, and there wasn’t a single sign that he was around, either. No sounds of movement coming from upstairs. To Salem, it felt as though she truly was the only person in the house.

Confused, Salem checked her phone, wondering if either of them texted her by any chance. When she opened her message app, she only saw text messages from a couple of days ago. There was nothing concerning about them.

Maybe they left a note somewhere?

She wandered over to the kitchen counter. Nothing there, either. Strange.

Perplexed, Salem looked around the house, trying to look for anything out of the ordinary. However, everything appeared to be just fine. Nothing was out of place. Everything was clean, nice, and orderly.

Slowly, she made her way upstairs. “Mom? Dad?” She called out. “You guys awake?”

Silence.

Salem’s next idea was to call them. First, she dialed her mother’s number. After some seconds of waiting, it went straight to voicemail. She tried to call her father next, only for the same thing to happen — voicemail.

“The fuck…?” She muttered.

Then, she heard a knock on the door. Her heart starting to race with anticipation, Salem hurriedly walked toward the door, opening it. To her relief, her father was standing right there… but her mother wasn’t around. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a hint of something else to it. He was a difficult person to read, but Salem could sense some dismay in his dark eyes.

“Dad, where have you been?” Salem asked, her eyes narrowing. “You could’ve at least texted me. Where’s Mom? I’ve been looking for her. She’s always awake in the morning.”

Her father sighed as he stepped inside the house, slowly closing the door behind him. There was something… off about his demeanor.

“She’s not coming back.” He answered, his voice cold.

Salem raised an eyebrow. “What… what do you mean?” She questioned. “Did something happen to her?”

Her father didn’t meet her gaze, his eyes fixed on the floor as he leaned against the door. “She’s gone, Salem. Vanished. You’ll never see her again.”

“Were you looking for her? Is that why you were gone?”

He nodded. “Trust me, I spent an hour searching for her.” He answered. “I couldn’t find her anywhere.”

“But… why would she just… disappear like that? She was here yesterday, and she seemed completely fine. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I wish I knew. Maybe she hasn’t been completely honest with us.”

Salem’s eyes narrowed even further. “What are you suggesting? She… she’d never lie to us, Dad.”

“You can never be certain about a person’s intentions, Salem. People lie.”

Before Salem had a chance to object, her father briskly walked past her, almost as though he was in a hurry. He headed upstairs, and the sound of a door shutting signaled to Salem that he was in his room.

As she stood there, Salem felt… angry. Angry at the fact that her father would believe that her mother disappeared intentionally. The two of them were incredibly close. They’d talk to each other about anything. So, why the hell would her father insinuate such a thing? Nothing about this made sense at all.

She’ll come back one day.

Salem just hoped that her mother was safe; that nothing had happened to her. Maybe one day the door would open, and she’d be standing right there.

Stephen sat down on the edge of his bed and quickly grabbed his phone to dial a number. He was in a hurry for a reason. As he nervously sat there, he waited for his boss to pick up, staring at his phone screen in anticipation.

Eventually, somebody picked up, and Stephen had to suppress a sigh of relief.

“Hello, Stephen. What is it?”

“Hello, König. I have an update on Jane that I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear.”

“Ah, perfect. Do tell.”

“I just returned from bringing her to the airport. She should be on a plane to Bavaria in the next hour.”

“Wonderful. I look forward to meeting her in the next, ah… eight hours. Quite a long time, isn’t it?”

Stephen let out a small chuckle. “Yes, lengthy plane trip indeed.”

“How did it go? Was she… easily convinced?”

He sighed. “She was a bit reluctant. I eventually convinced her. Just told her not to question anything.”

“Hmm, I see. Well, I am glad it all worked out in the end. You know that this project is of significant importance to me, and I cannot afford for it to go wrong.”

“I understand. Well… unfortunately, I had to lie to my daughter. She’s under the impression that Jane’s simply disappeared.”

There was an obvious tinge of regret in Stephen’s words.

“Ah, but it had to be done. She wouldn’t have been too happy if she knew the truth, yes?”

“Yes, that’s true. It’s just… she and Jane were very, very close. I don’t think she’s handling everything too well right now. She was quite upset when I walked in.”

“My friend, sometimes you must do things that you’d rather not do. There is no need to feel regret. I promise you, you’ve done the right thing.”

Despite König’s words of reassurance, Stephen hardly felt any better. He’d taken Jane away from Salem, and now he’d be paying the price for it. Father of the year, huh?

“I suppose you’re right. I wish you the best of luck with your… project, König. I do have to ask you a question, though.”

“Hm, what is it?”

“Whatever you plan on doing to Jane… you’re not going to cause any harm to her, right?”

König let out a chuckle over the phone, almost as though he was shocked that Stephen would ask such a thing.

“Ah, of course not. Do not worry, Stephen.”

“Thank you.”

And just like that, the call ended.

[missyue]

WLW & MLM ONLY

REQUESTS OPEN (RESPONSES AND POSTS WILL BE SLOW UNFORTUNATELY)

FANDOMS:

A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS

SAILOR MOON (CRYSTAL, COSMOS, ETERNAL)

SALLY FACE

JACK AND THE CUCKOO CLOCK HEART

RISE OF THE GUARDIANS

EPIC (2013 [MOVIE, NOT THE MUSICAL])

ARCANE

YOUNG JUSTICE

TALES OF ARCADIA (TROLL HUNTERS, 3BELOW, WIZARDS)

JJK

AVATAR (AVATAR & AVATAR: WAY OF THE WATER)

WILL DOS:

FEM READER

MALE READER

CHARACTER X CHARACTER

FLUFF

ROMANCE

PLATONIC

GENDERBENDING

WONT DOS:

FEM READER X MALE CHARACTER

MALE READER X FEM CHARACTER

OC X OC (sorry)

INCEST

SMUT

SCAT/PISS/PEDOPHILA

GN READER (SORRY)

ABOUT MISS YUE:

she/her

15

Lesbian

Amateur author

[hesawifebeaterdanusethegun]

Wanting

Chapter One:

“Are your first few weeks going well, my dear?” he asked, leaning casually on the counter in front of her. She smiled at seeing him again and nodded in response. It was a Friday in early autumn, and Harper had been working at Resort Alpschatten for a about three weeks now. Herr König had hired her for the morning shift working the front desk, checking customers in and out from the hotel and surrounding vacation bungalows for rent as well as selling refreshments and souvenirs in the small shop at the front of the hotel.

She was a little chubby, with dark blue eyes and pale skin. Harper stood about 6 inches shorter than König at a guess, with long dark hair and thick rimmed tortoiseshell glasses. She wore her usual jeans and a black t-shirt today, an outfit completed by a pair of black and white high top sneakers, considerably more casually dressed than Herr König, which she’d found was normal. He was always immaculately groomed and dressed when he came to see her at work, as he had been when she’d met him.

Herr König had checked in on her a couple of times each week since she’d begin work, and she appreciated the help he offered and the bit of conversation they had on the days he showed up at the hotel. She like him, she’d liked him since the day she met him, the day she’d gotten hired here. Harper barely knew enough passable German to get by yet, she’d just moved to Germany from the US. The language barrier (and her shyness) made it very difficult to meet people, and she’d felt very isolated since her move, so she very much enjoyed the talks they had when Herr König checked up on her at work.

He usually stayed for an hour or so when he showed up, helping out with any paperwork that needed filing and any other small things that needed done around the shop while chatting with Harper, usually about herself or how she was settling into her new life in Germany. She’d found Herr König didn’t like talking about himself much, and often steered the conversation to her and her interests and life rather than his own. She didn’t mind though, Harper was just happy to have someone friendly to talk to.

His response to any rudeness from customers toward her had endeared him to her further, going so far as to escort out some of the most difficult people who came to stay at the hotel after their poor treatment of Harper and sometimes of König himself, though that was less common. People felt more comfortable mistreating a 5’5” woman rather than a 6’ tall and rather imposing man (when he wanted to be).

“Yes, thank you, Herr König,” Harper answered him.

“This is good to hear. You are off the clock soon, yes?” he responded, smiling at her. Of course, König knew this, he was the one who made the schedule. It was about 15 minutes until she was scheduled to clock out and start her walk home to her apartment building in town a few miles away. The walk was a bit long, but she liked it, it gave her time to think and work things out in her head. And Harper loved the fresh air out here, she almost felt like it made her mind sharper, it was so clean and bracing. “May I offer you a ride home, my dear?”

Though she enjoyed the walk home, it didn’t change the fact that it had been a bit of a trying day, with a few difficult customers, and she was exhausted. And she couldn’t lie, she liked König’s company and conversation, and didn’t want it to end when her shift was over. She also couldn’t wait to get home for a hot shower and some time to relax.

“Sure, that would be really nice. Thank you,” she said, smiling at him.

He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face when she said yes. Herr König had made the realization during one of their more recent conversations that Harper really liked him, something he wasn’t used to. She genuinely enjoyed his company and lit up when he came into the room. He couldn’t’ deny that she had the same effect on him, if the foolish grin on his face whenever she entered his vicinity were any indication. He thought she was sweet, and very smart. He wondered how she’d ended up working here, in a tiny town in an out of the way area of the Bavarian Alps. All he knew was that he couldn’t get enough of her company, and wanted their time together to do nothing but increase in the future.

Herr König stayed with her as she cleaned up the shop before the end of her shift, helping out where needed, and told her he’d be waiting outside when she’d clocked out for the day. Harper went to count her cash drawer for the evening and stow it in the safe now that her relief had showed up. She counted quickly hurrying through so as not to keep Herr König waiting. She was done in less than ten minutes, clocking out and retrieving her messenger bag from beneath the front counter on her way out the door. Her coworker gave her a strange look as she left the building, Herr König holding the door for her and offering her his arm as they walked.

They strolled to the passenger’s side of his green Nissan Patrol, a vehicle Harper found strangely fitting for him, he looked very good behind the wheel of it at any rate, where he opened the door for her and helped her inside before closing it behind her. He made his way to the driver’s side and got in. He inserted the key and turned it in the ignition, and the Patrol sputtered to life. Harper couldn’t help but notice how immaculately kept the interior of the vehicle was, despite it’s age of over 40 years. He backed out of his parking spot and started the short journey to her apartment.

“How are your German studies going?” he asked as he drove, looking over at her.

“Not as well as I’d hoped, I don’t have much of a head for this sort of thing,” she told him a little embarrassedly.

“This is alright, I believe I can help you with this. I would love to tutor you, if you’d like me to,” he said, fidgeting in his seat a bit and glancing at her quickly before looking back to the road.

“I’d like that a lot, Herr König,” she said after taking a moment to process the offer.

“Wonderful,” he said through a wide smile. “Please call me Leo,” he added. It was the first time she’d heard his first name.

From that day on, once a week, König (Leo) would accompany Harper home and help her with her German lessons for an hour or so. These visits eventually lasted longer and longer, happening more and more frequently until he was driving her home after every shift and visiting her more and more often, spending as much time around Harper as he could. They could be found together in Harper’s apartment at the kitchen table, her German lessons long forgotten in favor of more intimate conversation between friends most evenings after Harper’s shifts at the hotel. He began to notice that he perked up at her name if it was mentioned in conversation around the hotel, he couldn’t stop thinking about her, he dreamt about her. He couldn’t let on that he felt this way, especially being her boss, but he longed to tell her. König would have to settle for spending as much time as he could around her without letting on how he felt, at least for now.

König’s romantic experience amounted to nearly nothing through his roughly 40 years, his shyness when it came to the few women he’d met that he’d been interested in holding him back from those experiences. He was by no means a virgin, but he hadn’t experienced anything like this feeling he had for Harper with any of the few partners he’d had.

Harper had grown very fond of König over the weeks since she’d been hired as well. More than fond in fact, though she couldn’t think like that about him. He was her boss and her friend, sure, but no more than that. A man like him, so handsome and successful, wouldn’t want anything to do with a woman like her. He didn’t know her, not really, not yet, and once he did she knew he wouldn’t want to continue whatever their relationship might become.

That day had been like any other work day for Harper, with König showing up about an hour before she was scheduled to clock out to keep her company until her shift ended. He leaned against the back of the counter, his elbows resting on it, as he chatted with her to help pass the time until he could accompany her home.

This was his favorite part of every day. König loved their short rides to her home every afternoon she was scheduled to work, and often the hours spent together afterward, all pretense of “German lessons” forgotten, sometimes only quietly spending time on the couch in her apartment together, not feeling the need to say anything. He adored this time spent together because he could pretend she was all his, at least for a little while until he had to leave her and head to his own home, alone.

That night he’d gone to bed alone, as he had for so long, and woke in a cold sweat. It was late, he wasn’t sure how late, as a storm had rolled in while he was asleep and cut the power at some point in the night, his bedside clock flashing 12:00. He fumbled on his bedside table for the lamp, finally locating its cord and pulling, flooding the immediate vicinity with soft yellow light. König put on his glasses and checked his watch that had been left on the table, 3:00 a.m. He’d dreamt of Harper again, he couldn’t get her out of his head and he needed to tell her now. He didn’t care what time it was, he needed her to know before he lost his nerve.

He dressed quickly and haphazardly in grey chinos and a royal purple button up shirt, and rushed to his car. He fumbled with the key in the lock before getting in, now soaking wet from the storm, and jammed the key into the ignition, starting the SUV and roughly shifting gears before rushing to Harper’s. He could barely see through the storm, the rain pelting the windshield so hard that the wipers could barely cut through, the headlights doing near nothing to help visibility.

Harper’s windows were dark when he pulled up to her apartment building, along with those of most of her neighbors. It was about 3:30 a.m. at this point, and she’d probably gone to bed quite a while ago. He shut off the car and stowed his keys in his pocket and took a deep breath. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say on the way over, but nothing sounded right, nothing he could think to say to her would really convey what she’d come to mean to him over the weeks he’d known her. He opened the driver’s side door and ventured out into the storm, rushing to the overhang above Harper’s door where he’d be sheltered, at least somewhat, from the rain. He breathed out harshly, took another deep breath, and knocked at the door three times, hard. He felt a little guilty at waking her at this hour, but he had to do this now or never. König didn’t know if he'd have the courage to do this if he waited.

Harper awoke suddenly, unsure what she’d heard that had woken her. She looked around the room, fumbling for her glasses on the bedside table and turning on the lamp she kept there. Her phone lit up with the time, about half past three in the morning. Then she heard the rain pelting the roof above her and saw the flash of lightning out her bedroom window. The storm must have woken her, she thought. Then she heard it (again). Three strong knocks on her door.

She knew that knock, and yawned widely as she climbed out of bed, sliding on a pair of slippers and slowly making her way to the front door. Harper unlocked the deadbolt and door lock and swung it open slowly, revealing an uncharacteristically disheveled and soaking wet König standing before her. His shirt was untucked and he’d neglected to fasten the top two buttons on his dress shirt before he’d come over.

“Leo, what are you-

“Harper, I’m sorry to wake you, I…” he started, with no idea where he was going with that sentence. He hesitated before stepping over the threshold of her doorway so they were standing nearly touching each other. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned down, kissing her once, softly, his lips lingering on hers for a moment before he pulled away.

Surprised, Harper froze for a few seconds, long enough that a worried look spread across König’s face. This was the most impulsive he could ever remember being, and he wondered if it was the wrong thing to do, perhaps he should have kept his feelings to himself as he would have in the past. Before he could finish these thoughts her arms were around his neck and her lips on his, pulling him deeper into the apartment. All his doubts evaporated as he kissed her back, shyly sliding his tongue along her lower lip, her mouth opening to deepen the kiss.

König kicked the door shut behind him as they kissed, leaving them in the dark, both breathless and desperate for the other. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer and feeling her body pressed against his. She fit into his arms and against his body like a glove, like she belonged there. He reached behind him and flipped the light switch on the wall, illuminating the living room via a standing lamp in the corner behind the couch.

Panting, he pulled back so they could both get a breath, leaning his forehead against Harper’s and closing his eyes, hands resting on her hips. He laughed a little at his nerves, unsure what to say, a rare occurrence for König.

“Hi,” he breathed shakily, causing them both to laugh quietly, staring into each other’s eyes.

Chapter Two

[arrumiekookie]

Thanks to whoever wrote this Quentin Quire [Kid Omega] and Idie Okonkwo [Oya | Temper] oneshot... I owe you my life. @/chabons-escapist

My baby x-men.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Phil was captured by a hybrid fighting ring and forced to fight. But the owner thought he lacked the motivation to give his all, and so a chick was placed in Phil's nest. A father fights way more fiercely if he is protecting his young.

Author: @kuraiarcoiris

[evil-feather]

I finally started writing again. Send motivation and prayers that I actually finish this one😩👀

[nettlesomecorvid]

Pre-ordered last month.

I'm guessing scalpers and other media retailers snagged all the copies on release day (Oct 23, U.S.).

Finally got it today from Amazon. 😭😭😭

[marvelmaniac715]

Devon has upgraded his podcast and is now able to interview guests. This is the audio transcript of a very special edition of the podcast:

————————————————————-

Devon: Welcome back to my podcast, today I have a very special guest, and honestly I’ve been looking forward to this all week. It took a lot of work to arrange this interview, and I’m proud to say that I’m interviewing the infamous slasher Charles Lee Ray, better known as Chucky!

Chucky: Hey, great to be here.

Devon: I also have my boyfriend Jake here in order to restrain him. He’s waving- Jake, they can’t see you, this is an audio recording, maybe say hi instead?

Jake: Hi.

Devon: As you can see he’s very talkative… anyway, let’s start with the first question. Chucky, as some of the listeners may know, you’ve made quite a name for yourself as a killer doll, but you were also quite prolific as a human, would you mind talking about one of your favourite murders or crimes committed as a human?

Chucky: Of course, the only problem is that there’s so many good ones that it’s hard to pick… damn it, I knew a question like this was gonna come up, but I didn’t prepare for it, isn’t that stupid?

Devon: It’s not stupid at all Chucky- can I call you Chucky?

Chucky: Sure, I hate being called Charles anyway, and Mr Ray was my father- may he rest in peace.

Devon: Okay, would you like to move on then? I have a few more questions I can ask in the meantime.

Chucky: No, no, I thought of three, is that alright?

Devon: Sure, I’m sure my listeners are just as excited to hear about your past as I am. 

Chucky: Okay, I guess my first pick is when I killed my mom. Nothing special, but it got me started, and it’s always good to remember where you come from, keeps you grounded y’know? My second pick was the whole thing with  Vivian Van Pelt. Again, nothing notable there, but the misunderstanding over her ring meant that I eventually got married, and… well, Tiff and I get on sometimes, and she gave me two… interesting kids, so it all worked out for the best, right? My final pick was this one murder where I managed to get my hands on a chainsaw, the blood went everywhere! Tiff was pissed cause I made a mess on her new white rug, but we were both laughing our asses off when the cops found the body and one of ‘em slipped and fell in the blood on live tv. Classic.

Jake: Devon, we’re gonna get arrested or something over this, should we really continue this?

Devon: Shh, Jake! You know why we’re doing this! Now Chucky, it’s interesting that you mentioned your mother, mind talking our listeners through the process behind that first kill?

Chucky: I’d be happy to. So basically I had a knife in my hand and an oppressive situation I had to get out of. That’s pretty much it.

Devon: That’s it? No remorse, no deeper reasoning? Didn’t you love her?

Chucky *scoffing*: Nah, I always preferred my dad, mom never let me stay up past my bedtime, but dad did. Oh yeah, sorry about your mom by the way. We good?

Devon: …Sure. I’d like to ask about how you got into voodoo, because I’ve always been quite curious about that.

Chucky: Well I was stalking potential victims at a bar one time and I came across this girl who was reading the book Voodoo for Dummies. I started a conversation with her and she told me more about voodoo. I killed her obviously, but what she was talking about really interested me, so I bought my own copy of the book and found a voodoo doctor to teach me more, Doctor Death - his real name was John and I killed him too - so yeah that’s about it.

Devon: That’s so interesting! Now I’d like to take a break from the crime from a moment and get to know the man behind the murders. I’ll start with an easy one, what’s your favourite movie genre?

Chucky: Horror, no questions asked. If it’s got blood, terror and screaming, I’m down.

Devon: I thought you’d say that. Following on, what’s your favourite horror movie?

Chucky: The Shining. I loved it as a human and I love it now, a classic movie based on a classic book that I’ve read eight times.

Devon: Does all work and no play make Chucky a dull boy?

Chucky: Ha, nice reference! And yeah, I’d say so, I like to have fun.

Devon: Glad you liked the reference. What’s your favourite not strictly horror movie?

Chucky: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I love the psychological drama elements, and it reminds me of the times I was in a mental hospital.

Devon: Do you… see yourself in any of the characters? Not even like emotions wise, just like, based off of physical appearance?

Chucky: …Nope. I do like Nurse Ratchet though.

Devon: Really? Even if I show you this picture of yourself as a human and… give me a sec- this picture of the character Billy Bibbit?

Chucky: No, not seeing anything…

Devon: That’s weird. Do you see what I’m talking about Jake?

Jake: You know what, you’re right! He totally looks like-

Chucky: We seem to be going on some weird tangent, any other questions?

Devon: Yeah, sorry about getting sidetracked there.

Chucky: No worries.

Devon: Okay, continuing on, what’s your favourite book?

Chucky: Anything by Steven King, the man’s a literary genius.

Devon: So he’s your favourite author then?

Chucky: Totally.

Devon: Alright, two more questions. The first is, do you regret anything?

Chucky: No, I’m pretty happy with life.

Devon: Okay, now I don’t regret what’s about to happen.

Chucky: What do you mean?

Devon: Final question-

Chucky *thrashing to break free*: What the hell’s going on?

Devon: Don’t worry about it. Jake, tie him to that chair and step back.

Chucky: What?!

Devon: Final question.

Andy *kicking the door open and bursting into the room, cocking a gun*: Hands where I can see ‘em!

Devon: Are you ready?

Chucky *sighing*: Damn it, this is why I don’t do interviews…

[endofradio]

TRUE ECOLOGY — CHAPTER 2: SIGHTSEEING

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1

WARNINGS: n/a

NOTES: what would you do if you were salem and you were in a car with könig 🤨

SUMMARY: könig stops by salem’s suite for a bit of a chat. later that night, she returns after a nighttime walk, only for sabina to warn her about something. the next morning, könig takes salem on a car ride through the forest, which leads to an interesting discussion… and a proposed opportunity.

WORD COUNT: 2,650

TAGLIST: @trelaney @lokidoki9 @13th-floor-in-moonstone @spookyspecterino @fran-tau @kolcheksluver @actually-adambarrett @blackwolfstabs @creelmalfoylaufeyson69 @starryrevelations @samcrpnters (feel free to shoot me a message if you’d like to be added to my taglist!)

reblogs and comments are heavily appreciated. don’t be shy!

Salem stood by the window of her bedroom, gazing outside and taking in the bright and sunny view. She could hear birds chirping and found the scene relaxing. It was peaceful and mostly quiet, just the way she liked it.

She was then snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a knock on the door. Quickly, she turned around.

“Mom? Dad? Is that you? Come in.”

The door swung open, and König entered, still clad in his turtleneck and jacket from before. He adjusted his round-framed glasses and then spoke, offering a polite smile.

“Ah, not your parents. I hope you don’t mind.”

Salem was mildly surprised, but she wasn't complaining. “I wasn't expecting to see you here,” she said, crossing her arms. “How did you find me, anyway?”

König let out a lighthearted chuckle as he slowly stepped further into the room, his brown shoes quiet against the floor.

“Perhaps I have a sharpened sense of hearing.” He quipped with light sarcasm. “Did you forget I was...right there when you and Sabina were talking? I heard every word.”

Salem slowly nodded. “Ah… right.”

Something about König’s mannerisms gave her a sense of unease. The way he spoke was polite and gentle, but instead of making him seem approachable, it only made him intimidating. The way he walked and carried himself reminded Salem of a predator stalking its prey — his movements were slow and methodical. When König looked at her, he appeared to be studying her. Analyzing her. He was… mysterious.

Salem watched as König quietly wandered over to the window, his hands placed behind his back. He hummed quietly as he stared out the window, seemingly pondering. After a few moments, he turned his head to look at Salem, gently smiling again.

“Nature’s truly marvelous, don’t you think?”

Salem hummed in agreement. “Especially here.”

“Do you… have an eye for nature, perhaps?” König then asked. “I believe it’s a… quality trait.”

“Of course I do. I studied photography in college.”

König’s eyebrow was now raised in intrigue. “Ah, photography? Good choice, good choice indeed. Well, this place is perfect for you, then. I take it you’ve brought a camera with you?”

Salem nodded. “I plan on using it while I’m here. My camera’s like a… visual diary of sorts. Memories are important to me.”

“One day, you’ll have to show me some of the pictures that you’ve taken. I’m… intrigued.”

A smile started to tug at her lips. “Oh, of course. I’m… flattered that you’re interested.”

König chuckled. “Flattered?” He repeated. “Has nobody else seen your work?”

Salem’s smile then turned slightly sheepish, her eyes darting away from his for a moment, focusing on the floor instead.

“I don’t show my photos to a lot of people. When I do, they don’t really care.” She quietly explained. “College was the only time people seemed to care. My dad isn’t the most supportive of my passion for photography. He always says that… art won’t pay the bills.”

“Ah, but what does he know?” König then asked, stepping closer towards Salem. “You two are… different individuals… with different interests, after all.”

Salem nodded slowly, and for a few moments, they stood together in the room in silence, quietly observing the scenery outside the window. While standing there, König reached into the front pocket of his jacket, taking out a small, wooden instrument.

“What’s that?” Salem asked, tilting her head just a little.

Instead of answering her, König brought the instrument to his lips before carefully blowing into it, filling the room with a sharp, haunting sound. He held a note for just a few moments and then turned to look at Salem again, smiling.

“It’s a… wooden flute.” He answered. “Simple… yet lovely instrument. You can say that it’s… my way of talking to nature.”

Almost as if on cue, a particular type of bird call came from the distance — a shrieking call that was somewhat peculiar and alarming. Unfazed, König chuckled lightly.

“Such an ugly sound, isn’t it?” He asked. “That, my dear, is a shrike. Sometimes, they are referred to as… butcher birds.”

Salem’s brows furrowed in a slightly alarmed manner. “Sounds… morbid.” She commented.

“You’d be correct. They are… vicious little things. They appear small and innocent, yet they’ll impale their prey on thorns.”

König paused for a moment, allowing his words to hang in the air before he spoke again.

“Sometimes, they’ll even kill other birds…”

He let out an amused chuckle at Salem’s expression of slight bewilderment. “Ah, but they aren’t monsters.” He continued. “Their… technique… it’s just a way of survival… adaptation.”

“You seem to know… quite a lot.”

König’s smile grew a little wider. “I have a background in it — ornithology. It’s the… study of birds.”

Salem slowly nodded. “Do you have a favorite kind of bird?” She then asked.

König hummed thoughtfully at her question. “I do, I do…” he quietly answered, before checking his watch. “I’ll tell you later, hm? Tomorrow, I can give you a little tour of the forest. We can chat then. Is that alright?”

Salem’s gaze curiously wandered over to König’s watch. “Mhm, that’s fine.” She replied. “You’ve got somewhere to be?”

The German man was silent for a few moments as if he was considering whether or not to answer Salem’s question. Eventually, he spoke.

“Indeed. I have to, let’s just say… pay somebody a little visit.”

“Ah.” Salem nodded. “Well… I hope it goes well.”

She watched as König turned around and made his way to the door. His hand hesitated momentarily before his fingers curled around the doorknob. He looked back at Salem, and their eyes met once again. Instead of speaking, he just flashed her a small smile before slowly opening the door and disappearing from the room.

When he was gone, Salem was standing alone in the room with much to think about.

“Hm… that should be good enough.”

After reviewing the photos she had taken, Salem repositioned her camera strap around her neck and drew in a deep breath of fresh air, taking in her surroundings. König was right, she thought. Resort Alpschatten truly was located amongst some gorgeous scenery. Sure enough, it proved to be useful for Salem’s pictures.

After turning around, she started heading back toward the resort. Maybe going into the forest alone wasn't a wise decision, but nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. It seemed relatively safe to Salem.

As Salem walked along the trail, she watched various bird species fly from tree to tree above her until she eventually caught sight of the resort. When she headed inside, she noticed that the lobby appeared to be mostly empty, with Sabina being the only other person there, seated at the reception desk.

“You know, you’re lucky you made it out alive.” She commented, raising an eyebrow at Salem. “What time is it?”

Confused as to why Sabina was asking the question, Salem glanced up at the clock. “Uh… almost ten o’clock?”

“Exactly.”

Salem narrowed her eyes. “What about it?”

Sabina leaned back in her chair, blowing a bubble of bubblegum. “Are you not aware of the rumors?” She asked, almost in a know-it-all tone of voice. “There’s a reason why this place closes at ten. Notice how the lobby is mostly desolate, except for us two?”

Salem slowly nodded. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well…” Sabina sighed, chewing the now-popped purple bubble. “Rumor has it that there’s a… serial killer who wanders around the forest at night. Some kind of woman who wears a trenchcoat and sunglasses.”

“That’s… strange.”

Sabina chuckled, leaning forward in her seat just a little. “Would you like to know what’s stranger?” She asked. “All the staff here acts like it’s just some kids playing a prank. I have enough reason to suspect that’s not the entire truth.”

Before Sabina could continue, a woman in a hospital gown suddenly entered the lobby, looking almost… dazed. Tired. Both Sabina and Salem turned to look at the sickly-looking woman as she hurriedly opened the refrigerator, grabbing a drink and guzzling it down as though she hadn’t drunk anything in days.

STORY CONTINUES BELOW THE GIF.

Sabina glanced back at Salem. “This is the kind of shit that happens at night.” She explained. “I’ve seen that woman before. Tried to ask her if she needed help, but… she wouldn’t answer me. I don’t think she can speak, actually.”

“She’s wearing a hospital gown.” Salem then observed. “What is she doing here?”

“There’s a hospital on the resort grounds,” Sabina answered. “I’m assuming she’s a patient.”

Salem slowly nodded, and then Sabina spoke up again.

“I’ve tried to convince König to allow me to not work night hours, but… he wouldn’t listen to me.”

The woman in the hospital gown finished the rest of the bottled drink, tossed it on the floor, and then left as quickly as she had entered.

“So, I’m just going to tell you this,” Sabina then said, her voice suddenly taking on more of a warning tone. “Whatever you do, don’t go outside late at night. Alone. I don’t know what’s going on around here, but I have a very bad feeling.”

“This serial killer… have you seen her before?” Salem then questioned, her tone a mixture of concern and skepticism.

Sabina shook her head. “No, I haven’t, but I’ve heard enough about her to believe she’s real.”

“What else have you heard about her?”

“Her way of killing her victims is… strange. They end up dying by choking on their vomit.”

“How does that happen? Does she… drug them? Poison them?”

Sabina shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that’s how her victims die.”

“That’s… odd.”

“Yeah, I know. Just… be careful, and you should be safe. I know the whole thing sounds ridiculous, but… better to be safe than sorry, right?”

Salem slowly nodded, not saying anything. Instead, she left the lobby, walking down to her suite. She tried to tell herself that Sabina was simply just believing some kind of urban legend, because that’s exactly what it sounded like.

Perhaps she’d have to investigate herself one of these nights and put her camera to good use.

The next morning, Salem was greeted by a gentle knock on her door. As she stood up, gently setting down the book she was reading, she remembered König’s words from yesterday.

That’s right. He said he’d give me a tour of the forest today.

When Salem went to open the door, König happened to be standing right there in the doorway, a pleasant smile on his face.

“Ah, good morning.” He spoke. “Slept well, I hope?”

Salem nodded. “Uh… yeah, I did.” She answered. “By the way, you… said that you’d give me a tour of the forest today. Is that why you’re here?”

König nodded. “Hm, you have a good memory.” He chuckled. “How about you follow me outside? I suggest bringing your camera.”

With those words, Salem grabbed her camera and followed him to the lobby. Once outside, they were greeted by the cacophonous sound of birds chirping and singing.

“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” König asked as he led Salem over to his car, opening the door for her. “The birds seem to agree.”

“It’s definitely beautiful.” Salem agreed as she climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Considering I’m not a morning person, that must say a lot, doesn’t it?”

König chuckled as he got inside the car. “Perhaps it’s because, until now, you’ve never experienced how truly beautiful a morning can be.”

As Salem sat down, the first thing that caught her eye was a small drawing of a bird. König’s car keys contained a similar drawing of what must’ve been the same bird as well.

“Is… that your favorite bird?” She asked, gesturing to the drawing in front of her.

König grinned at Salem’s question. “Smart girl. Do you… know it?”

Salem shook her head. “I don’t believe I’ve seen it before.”

STORY CONTINUES BELOW THE GIF.

“The common cuckoo.” König then explained, his gaze shifting from the drawing to Salem. “Common, but it’s behavior… isn’t. Its nature is… quite remarkable. Listen closely, and you might hear its call… right now.”

There was a moment of silence between the two, then suddenly, there was a faint “cuck-oo, cuck-oo.”

“Hear it?” König asked, his smile widening ever so slightly.

Salem nodded. “It sounds… familiar.”

“It’s a sound you’ve most likely heard before,” König said, before letting out a disappointed sigh as he stared off into the distance. “Humanity is a… terrible thing, truly, if you think about it. So many species have been destroyed… all because of humanity.”

He paused, allowing for his words to sink in.

“Am I… wrong?” He then asked.

Salem slowly shook her head. “No, you’re… right. I just wasn’t expecting such a… deep topic early in the morning.”

König hummed as his gaze switched to the steering wheel. “Some species need our help to survive and… reproduce.”

Then, he glanced back at Salem, his smile momentarily returning. “I’m a preservationist, you know.”

Salem watched as König twisted the ignition key, the engine coming to life. Then, he pulled out of the parking lot, making his way toward the forest.

The journey into the forest was fairly quiet at first, with the two sitting in the car in silence, Salem looking out the window as she watched rows of trees pass by.

“Tell me about your… photography.” König then spoke up, glancing at Salem for a brief moment. “What do you specifically like to capture? What’s your motivation?”

Salem continued to stare out the window, silently pondering the question. “I just… capture whatever I believe to be beautiful, whatever grabs my attention.” She then answered, before meeting König’s gaze momentarily. “I don’t follow a specific approach or anything. I just… do what works for me, depending on what I’m taking a picture of.”

König slowly nodded, humming in intrigue. “In your photos, is there a… common subject of sorts?”

Salem shrugged. “Not really. I’ve taken pictures of nature, cities, animals, people… pictures of… objects… sometimes I experiment with self-portraits.”

“Self-portraits, hm?” König quietly repeated. “You say you capture what you find to be beautiful. Does that mean that you… find yourself to be beautiful?”

At those words, Salem chuckled sheepishly. “It’s… not like that.” She explained. “Self-portraits are… something different for me. I mean, I suppose I’m trying to capture something with them, but it’s not beauty. Identity, maybe?”

“Fascinating.”

There was a pause before König spoke again.

“Ah, since you have your camera with you… I have a small request to make if that’s alright with you.”

Salem looked back at König, her interest now piqued. “Hm? What kind of request?”

“You mentioned you take pictures of people, correct?” He asked. “I’d be interested to see how you perceive me.”

“You… want me to take a picture of you?”

“Correct.”

The smallest of a smile formed on Salem’s face as she looked back out the car window. “Yeah, sure. I can do that.”

As König continued driving, Salem noticed what appeared to be a pink bungalow in the distance. Something about it seemed… eerie. It looked almost abandoned, and it didn’t help that it was located in a remote part of the forest, secluded from everything else.

“What’s that?” She quietly asked, watching as König stopped the car.

“Hm… that’s the Lover’s Nest, one of our many private bungalows here at the resort,” König replied. “It’s… quite popular amongst our couples, especially the newlyweds.”

Salem slowly nodded, narrowing her eyes. “It looks… abandoned.”

“It’s… much nicer on the inside, trust me. Otherwise, I highly doubt anybody would be using it.”

König looked around before opening the car door, stepping out into the forest, and gesturing for Salem to exit as well.

“Now, I think this would provide the perfect backdrop for a picture, don’t you think?”

[crimsonlyinglilly]

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

Hunger Games, my OCs District Ten’s Victors.

---

It had started in innocence, Angus and his dad used to joke they were outnumbered by the girls in his family, his mom, sisters, aunts and cousins, then the war happened and Angus tried to keep the joke up when it was just him, his littlest sister and closest cousin. A family of twenty down to three.

Whatever innocence left, died quickly when the reapings started and the games kept repeating.

District 10 is the livestock district. It isn't that hard to accept that two of their children every year are just as much livestock as the animals they sent, or the meat, a fair trade to keep those behind alive.

He was outnumbered by the peacekeepers on the 9th reaping when it was his own name, even if he wasn’t he couldn’t fight when it would bring them down on his girls. Then in the games he was outnumbered one against twenty two.

Twenty two because nothing would make him raise a hand against the little girl that had spent the train ride sobbing into his shirt the same way his sister did after a nightmare. He didn’t need to worry about that though as his last clear memory from his games was his thin neck snapping at the hands of a much bigger kid.

He’s fifteen and about to die.

His next clear memory was a hammer in his hands and realising the wet stickiness covering him was blood and other stuff.

He’s outnumbered in the district, the only one to return and every pair of eyes he can feel on screams they would have wanted someone else back.

He’s outnumbered when Peacekeepers arrive for him with a stylist a few years later when  they decide the Victors have the honour to mentor the new tribute. He’s outnumbered in the Capitol, one of the few real people in a sea of mockeries, how can people laugh and cheer as children die?

After a few more years he’s outnumbered as the sole Victor from the outer districts. He’s outnumbered by the number of dead children piling up next to his name as every year he returns to Ten sitting between another pair of wooden boxes.

His close calls, the children he can almost see coming home with him, are outnumbered by the children dead in the first few days.

Even his miracles are outnumbered, not by the many children he failed to save but by the many ways he failed them.

Lambert Edwin, his first success after years of waiting, already full of anger before his name was called. Who had only smiled when Edwin told him “No rules, don’t hold back.” had gone into the games and reflected the Capitol’s true bloodlust back at them with his hooks and habit of leaving the tribute hung up to bleed, a true son of the slaughterhouses.

And when he came out Angus covered him in rules but failed him, because for all he had watched and learnt he couldn’t stop it all repeating on his victor. Couldn’t stop the games following him and taking his mother, couldn’t warn his charge not to let those in the Capitol near because they wouldn’t accept the word No once they had a taste.

In the end his angry boy Lambert was remade by into Capitol’s Edwin, a charming stallion.

Ten’s the livestock district, Angus should have known better, deadstock or breeding stock, those reaped belong to the Capitol. 

Cuckoo who went into the games with a mask of a sadist to cover a romantic at heart, who had already killed the girl she was, when she introduced herself as Culla in the interviews and had her face all over the Capitol the night she killed half the Careers when she lured the Games mutts to where they slept.

Highest kill count for a non-career but the Capitol only cared for the pretty girl biting an apple as red as her lips. She went to the parties without being reminded of the cost, if she didn’t, she shrugged off the marks left behind because she believed they couldn’t truly touch her and Angus hadn’t warned her. 

So when Charley was reaped she broke, the younger brother to her once fiance, the only one from home who had never flinched when she came back. Charley went into the games, as Talon, he was strong, handsome, charming and everything you could need in a victor.

But Angus has learnt that means little and his reaping wasn’t by chance, so while Angus and Edwin worked to keep him alive he hadn’t been able to stop Cuckoo, his hidden romantic from making a deal with the devil.

And in the aftermath of the games Culla and Talon were wed in the Capitol and in the years that follow their ‘happy ending’ Angus watches as his future failures are born, children the Capitol greet with cheers and one day will cry over as they are reaped and die in the games.

Children bred to die, because Ten is the livestock district they know how this goes.

His latest Hereford, who barely counts as a success as he fails her from the beginning, the girl who volunteered to save a friend and had no plans to win at all, only agreeing to live long enough to kill her 12 year old partner.

They dress them as a pair of little lambs, ‘lambs to the slaughter’. She's fifteen and ready for her death and laughs at the joke, bright and free. He was fifteen once, when he picked up a hammer and started outnumbering himself with dead children.

Snow tells him to ensure she wins, so he can remind the current Career districts that they can be replaced, Angus doesn’t know why but he has learnt not to question. So he breaks his one promise, that every one of his tributes can choose to die, and sends her a message, she’s a smart girl she understands it She dies, her family follows.

For years the shows replay the moment she stares at the camera as the moment she decided she ‘would not fall’, Angus knows it as betrayal, it’s the last moment she lets herself show anger.

The friend she volunteered for dies with her family at the same moment Hereford wins, ‘gas leak what a shame’, Snow smiles when he tells Angus, Hereford’s family is left alone.

When she comes out, the interview gives her a new name, Fera for the way she fought desperately to win and because the Capitol already has a Hera from Two. Fera smiles and laughs and it’s empty and fake.

He lives in a village, where the empty houses outnumber the full ones and now he wants it to stay that way until something changes because for every filled house there are twenty three dead children and a broken survivor that he keeps failing.

But it won’t until all the districts learn to ignore the blood of each other's children and turn together against the Capitol, until then they outnumber themselves.

It’s the same within the games, two children against twenty two others.

For the victors where they are dragged out of the games as nothing more than bloody children and dressed up to be torn apart by either the grasping hands of the Capitol or their own nightmares that haunt them.

Ten maybe be the livestock district but to the Capitol they’re the all livestock, but every stockman knows to remain wary around your stock and them, in their painted wigs have forgotten that if they ever knew it.

Angus is old and there's no innocence left, but he’s learned patience and now he’s just waiting for a spark of a fire to start a stampede, that will crush the unaware in the centre.

[some-pers0n]

No, but my actual biggest pet peeve when it comes to literature in general is when a character has an accent / speech impediment so heavy you can't tell what they're saying half the time and it never stops.

Replacing vowels with 'w' when writing a child character will never not be the most agitating thing to me. Same with cutting off half of the words they're saying or replacing certain consonants like 's' with 'z' or 'th'. Please please please I can't read a back-and-forth conversation when one or more of the characters are literally incomprehensible to the readers.

[webtrinsic1122]

Spoilers for the horror movie Cuckoo:

Henry was fucking cheated, you deserved more dude.

[grand-omega-boss]

Does anybody know any good David Alleyne (Prodigy) fanfiction? I don't like thinkfast ship but if the story is good then that's okay

[frannyzooey]

This is so fucking cool! Thank you for not only taking the time to put this together, but for including me — I’m honored 🥺❤️ thank you!!

A resource for finding pre-TLOU Pedro Pascal characters fics

Hey everyone, this is just an idea that randomly struck me. I joined the fandom fairly recently in 2022, but as we all know, our numbers have well and truly exploded since TLOU aired.

We are incredibly lucky that our fandom has a massive treasure trove of fics written by so many amazing writers in the last few years, especially for pre-Joel Pedro boys that new fans are now discovering. However, new readers will probably have hard time finding these fics because nothing about Tumblr is set up to efficiently find any fic, let alone 'older' fics published months and years ago.

Since there's been such a huge influx of new readers in the fandom who may be looking for new-to-them 'old' fics to read, I thought it would useful to start a list of writers who have been writing for Pedro boys since before TLOU aired to connect newcomers to ‘older’ fics. I'm starting with writers that I have personally read or know of, but please do drop me an ask or a DM if you would like to add or be added to the list (or removed from it)!

*In case anyone twists this into something it's not, it goes without saying that there's always room for new fics and new writers! But the recency bias has been so strong these few months, I want to give some love to 'older' fics, especially pre-Joel Pedro boys ❤️ And if you have a better suggestion for the title of this post , please let me know 😂

In alphabetical order:

@absurdthirst

@amywritesthings

@deadhumourist

@ezrasbirdie

@foli-vora

@frannyzooey

@iamskyereads

@haylzcyon

@honestly-shite

@intheorangebedroom

@jazzelsaur

@juletheghoul

@katareyoudrilling

@leslie-lyman

@littlemisspascal

@lowlights

@lovesbiggerthanpride

@mandoblowmybackout

@mandosmistress

@nothoughtsjustmeds

@oonajaeadira

@pedropascalsx

@pettyprocrastination

@prolix-yuy

@psychedelic-ink

@radiowallet

@thatredheadwriter

@the-ginger-hedge-witch

@the-scandalorian

@theewokingdead

@thesoftdumbass

@thirstworldproblemss

@thosewickedlovelies

@toomanystoriessolittletime

@omgreally

@whatsnewalycat

@wildemaven

@write-and-buried

[evil-feather]

Home

Pairing: MissPeregrineXMissCuckoo

Warnings: sickness but comfort :)

Word count: 1807

Tags: @sam1kath @vykanya @mmemalwa @msperegrinesimp @l-lizzy-y

Notes: I know I know, this took me ages, terribly sorry about that. Also about one tiny thing (because it bothers me somehow): I settled for Fay as Alma's nickname given by Isabel YEARS ago and I actually find it cute to this day. I did cringe the hell when I wrote this because I don't wanna write my name in there so we'll just pretend like I'm not called Fay, right? Thanks🥲

Anyways another thing, there will be a little bonus "chapter" coming soon, as an apology :)

Oh and please let me know if you liked it!! <3

----

It was a normal day, really. 

The children were playing in the garden while the birds were chirping outside and the sun was shining through the big kitchen window.

Alma was teaching the last lesson for the Ymbrynes in training while Isabel was standing in the kitchen washing the dishes from lunch.

Just as she had put the last plate into the cupboard she could hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. 

She looked out of the kitchen and saw the class coming downstairs and separating themselves to go into the garden or the living room.

Isabel smiled slightly as she watched the few girls that went outside to enjoy the sun.

She put the towel away and made her way upstairs to the classroom that was full of students not even a minute ago. 

The door was slightly open so she knocked and pushed the door all the way open.

The huge classroom came into view, with large windows and the wall plastered with pictures and posters. 

At the end of the room sat a tiny woman on a desk that was way too big for her, leaning over some books and papers.

She looked up when she heard Isabel enter the room and gave her a weak smile.

"I see you are still working," Isabel chuckled as she made her way through the classroom.

Alma mustered her shortly before returning her gaze to the papers in front of her.

"I'd also love it if this paperwork did itself but sadly…," she sighed slightly as she gestured at her desk.

Isabel took a look at the papers, now standing on the other side of the desk. 

Then she whispered: "Looks awfully boring."

She looked up and met Alma's face just a few inches from hers. There was a small smile on her face from the comment but there was also something different.

Quickly Isabel noted mentally, how tired Alma looked. She would make sure that she got to rest later. 

Isabel leaned forward a little and dropped a kiss on the small woman's lips before she stood up again.

"I'll bring you some tea and then we can maybe get some things done together, I also need to prepare some lessons." 

Her eyes met the green ones opposite of her and they seemed to shine a bit more than before. 

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," Alma smiled.

"Anything for my favorite falcon," she laughed, making her way back to the door. 

She heard Alma chuckle in the back but when she turned her face again, Alma's nose was already stuck in the papers again.

So she made her way to the kitchen to boil some water. 

In the meantime, she collected all the things she might need to work on the next lesson.

When everything was there and the tea on a tray, Isabel left the kitchen but before she could make her way back to the classroom she bumped into Emma.

"- my, I'm so sorry Emma." 

"Oh Miss, I was actually looking for you! Do you have a minute?"

Isabel looked at the tray in her hand, then at the blonde girl in front of her. 

She sighed, putting everything on a cupboard and following Emma to the garden. 

They stopped under a small tree where Bronwyn and Millard were sitting, a massive book in their lap.

Isabel raised her eyebrow and looked at the three children in front of her with a questioning expression on her face.

"Uhm-, well, we know that you two aren't the biggest fans of celebrating your birthdays and all that," Emma started slowly, nervously fidgeting with her hands as she spoke.

"We still wanted to make something for Miss Peregrine," Millard finished quickly.

Isabel's face softened and a small smile formed on her lips.

"And how can I help you with that?" she carefully put her hand between Emma's to stop her from picking her skin and returned her gaze to the two children under the tree.

Emma's gaze flicked to her hands and the Ymbryne beside her before going to the book in Bronwyn's hand.

"We started to collect pictures from the past weeks and months since a lot has happened and changed," Millard explained.

"And we have collected them into one big album," Bronwyn said, gesturing to the book in her lap.

"We were wondering if you might want to add something yourself."

The Ymbryne thought about it for a short while, then she shrugged lightly.

"I don't think I have anything newer that I could add."

"Nah, we already have newer pictures of you two-," the invisible boy blurted out.

"Millard!" Emma tried to shush him.

Isabel narrowed her eyes slightly and looked at Emma who suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

She sighed and agreed that she'd see what she could find. 

Leaving the kids to discuss the rest, she made her way back inside.

The tea had gone cold so she brought it back into the kitchen and quickly made a new one.

Finally, she reached the classroom with a delay of 47 minutes.

Carefully not to startle Alma, she knocked on the door.

When no answer came she knocked a second time and after being left in silence again, she slowly pushed the door open.

She nearly dropped the tray when the room came into view.

Quickly she put it onto the nearest table and rushed to the oaken desk.

Alma was lying with her head on the desk, looking incredibly pale.

When Isabel carefully laid her hand on the younger woman's forehead to check her temperature, she noticed how warm she was.

She cursed internally for not doing something when she had noticed an hour ago that something was wrong.

Gently she started to nudge Alma's shoulder to wake her up.

After a minute she slowly started to open her eyes, tiredly blinking at Isabel until her vision became clearer.

Then in seconds, her head shot up when she realized that she was lying on her papers.

Immediately she regretted the sudden movement as her head started to hurt again and tiny black spots began to cloud her vision.

Isabel caught her head, just as she started to faint again.

"Why didn't you tell me that you felt this bad?" Isabel scolded her softly.

"It's not that bad. -'m fine," Alma whispered, barely audible.

"Yeah, I can see that," the other Ymbryne sighed. "Come on, let's get you upstairs."

Eventually, after a little bit of convincing, they made it into their shared room and Isabel got Alma to lie down.

"Stay? Please?"

Isabel sat down on the bed, carefully taking Alma's hand into hers.

"I can stay until you are asleep, but then I have to go check on the hatchlings and see what we're gonna have for dinner later."

It didn't take long until Alma was asleep. Isabel pulled the covers over the sleeping woman and did as she said, checking on the kids and Ymbrynes-in-training. 

When Alma opened her eyes the next time the light in the room was dimmed and the house seemed to be quiet. 

Not having the strength to stand up, she turned her head a little to the side. There was a tray on the nightstand with a small bowl and a teapot on top of it. 

In the small armchair on the side of the bed sat a tall figure, cuddled in a thick blanket.

She looked up when she noticed that Alma was awake. Isabel smiled warmly at the ravenette’s tired face.

“What happened?” Alma rasped, not being able to move her head.

Isabel got up from her chair and sat down on the bed, carefully taking Alma's hand in hers.

“You are sick, and you passed out because you wouldn't stop working on your papers,” Isabel replied, a thick layer of worry in her voice.

“Nonsense, I'm not sick!” Alma murmured weakly, barely keeping her eyes open.

The other woman couldn't help but chuckle slightly at Alma's not-at-all-convincing reply.

“Well then, I made you soup. Here, you need to eat something. That shouldn't be a problem if you are not sick, right?” she teased, taking the 

bowl from the nightstand and holding it out for Alma to take.

But she only groaned and threw her arm over her eyes. “Seems like you've defeated me.”

The cuckoo set down the bowl and softly squeezed the small hand she was still holding.

“Alright Fay, go back to sleep. But promise me that you'll try to eat something when you wake up the next time! It will help you get better soon!”

Alma nodded slightly but Isabel was sure that she hadn't listened to her anymore and was already asleep.

——

She didn't get better, rather the opposite.

Three days had passed since she had collapsed over her desk. She had slept through most of the days and had barely eaten nor drank anything, looking paler than ever.

“I miss my children,” Alma whined weakly.

“But you need rest!” Isabel protested, her arms crossed over her chest. This argument has been going on for a while now.

“And I promise that I will do that, it's not like I can move anyways,” the ravenette pleaded, “I just miss seeing them!”

The older Ymbryne sighed loudly. 

"Fine! But if they bother you too much, I'll send them to their rooms again!”

“Deal!” Alma gave a weak smile.

Isabel nodded shortly before picking the small woman up and carrying her downstairs into the living room.

The room was quite warm and comfortable. The fire in the chimney was crackling softly and the kids were sitting splattered around in the room, some reading, some playing games, or simply talking.

However, they all looked up and happily greeted the two Ymbrynes as they entered the room.

“Your Ymbryne is still sick so please let her rest,” Isabel reminded the children as she threw the blanket over Alma's shoulders.

She left the room to make some tea and when she came back a few minutes later, Alma was fast asleep again.

Isabel noticed however that Alma seemed to be much calmer than before and she could swear that there was even a hint of a smile on her lips.

Alma was slowly getting better over the next few days. 

When Isabel checked on her, the following day, she was sitting on the sofas, wrapped in a thick blanket and having little Claire in her lap.

Olive was sitting to her right and they were coloring a picture together.

It was an adorable picture, that Isabel had to pause for a minute and just watch the scene.

It was at this moment that Isabel realized that the kids really seemed to do Alma good. And from that moment on she was sure that things were gonna be okay again.

[green5quirrel]

TL;DR: I think Monroe's striking and chiming clocks were underutilized for truly hilarious interruptions when the hour strikes and 5 or so clocks announce it in sync.

I think we've all looked over a very important detail in Nick having stayed over at Monroe's for a time. I feel like I REALLY want someone to explore this in a fanfiction of some sort.

Monroe has several "striking" clocks in his house. A striking clock (or just clock for those who differentiate clocks as striking and timepieces as non-striking) makes sounds every hour, half hour, or can chime every quarter hour depending on the number of mechanisms.

Monroe obviously has a grandfather clock (or grandmother clock as I'm not sure the height of it) thanks to him telling Hap not to touch it. So that is definitely a striking and chime clock. Or has the potential to be as such if it's not silenced. He also has potentially more than one cuckoo clock.

Can you imagine the absolute terror of a person who has never been in a house with more than one striking clock as it hits the hour or half hour for the first time.

Now, ideally Monroe will have silenced most of his clocks. I don't know. I don't have any working clocks. I don't know how most horologists do things at their private homes. If they find the striking nostalgic or welcomed. But let's err on the side that Monroe has been living alone for a long time and actually does find a few chimes and striking nostalgic after growing up with it as his dad seemed to also be into clocks.

Let's layer this with the fact that Nick has very sensitive hearing (though I'm not sure when that happens. I could have my timelines wrong). Despite that, you're just getting to sleep at around 11pm or midnight and for some reason have been oblivious to or accepting of the chimes during the day. Or this is your first night in your friend, Monroe's, house and suddenly the first floor below you erupts in various chimes and tunes.

Can you imagine?!

I'm actually kind of astounded that this was never properly explored in the. In not one scene does any of Monroe's clocks strike despite how long everyone is at his house. I mean, if I had clocks I'd at least appreciate one of them striking.

The point is, I really want to either write or read a fanfiction where either Rosalee or Nick or Hank experiences the sound of an hour in the most unexpected way and grumpily complains to a completely and adorably oblivious Monroe.

(It would also have been a great gag if in the middle of a dramatic conversation it struck the top of the hour and Monroe patiently waits for his clocks to sound off before continuing. And Nick/whoever he's talking to is just like "Seriously dude?" And he's like, "What? ...fine! I'll silence them. Jeez! I didn't ask you to be here anyway, man!")