#i can still post them but they’ll only look good with light mode

[strangergraphics]

i made these cute little gif dividers but they didn’t save with a transparent background (even tho i selected that on canva) and now i’m mad 😭

[winterscaptain]

redamancy.

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the moment you’ve all been waiting for...#5 makes an appearance! (thanks to kira @good-heavens-chris-evans for helping me not be a liar and gassing me up so i could post this tonight like i promised xoxo i love you so much) words: 5.56k warnings: descriptions of childbirth (nothing too gross or graphic), swearing, disgustingly sweet family content

summary: “what strange creatures brothers are!” - jane austen. au!august 2022

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist edited: january 9th, 2021

“Hey, Aaron?” You peer around the wall to the bedroom from your place on the master bath toilet. There isn't any urgency to your query, which would later make you both laugh until you can't breathe. 

Aaron has a book in his lap and reading glasses resting on his perfect nose, as is usual for bedtime. He turns a page. “Hm?”

“When you get to a good stopping point, can you grab the go bag?” 

“Yeah.” He gets up on autopilot, setting his book down. When he reaches the bedroom doorway, he freezes and turns over his shoulder “Wait. Why?”

“Oh, nothing extreme,” you say, your voice light. “My water just broke and I figured we might -“

Your name leaves his mouth in a laugh, and he trots back to you, helping you up and kneeling to assist you with your comfiest pair of pajama pants. You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder, stepping into one leg, then the other. Playfully, he snaps the stretchy waistband around you. He's still kneeling before you when he says, “You’re insane, you know that?”

You smile down at him and scrub your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch like a cat and closes his eyes. “You are too, I’d like to point out.”

He sighs, kissing your belly and resting his cheek on it. “Never said I wasn’t.” He looks up at you. “Is it weird that I’m...a little sad? I’ve loved this part of our lives so much.”

You shake your head. “Me too, my love. And no, It isn’t weird.” 

He holds your hands as he stands and kisses your forehead. 

“We should probably tell Jack it's go time so he can help the little ones when they get up.”

Aaron pauses for a moment, thinking. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Isaac isn’t going to clearly remember last time, so he’ll probably be nervous, and this is totally new to the girls.” You reach up and he plants a kiss on your lips. You smile, pleased. 

A little contraction wave hits, and one side of your face screwed up in discomfort. 

Aaron kisses your cheek and says, “I’ll get the rest of the toiletries together.”

You nod, and padded down the hallway, your socked feet swishing a little against the hardwood floors. You knocked twice on Jack’s door, quietly, and waited for his groggy, “Yeah?”

With access granted, you open the door with a little smile, and Jack sits straight up.  You cross to his bed and sit down on the edge, opening your arm to him. Though he’s almost seventeen, he scrambled out from under the covers and tucked in close to you. 

“Your dad and I are headed to the hospital, and Aunt Jess and Em are on their way okay? If you need anything big, dad has his phone and -“

“Mom, we’ve done this before,” he says with a grin. “I know the drill.”

You push the hair off his forehead and kiss him. “I know it, but it makes me feel better. The little ones haven’t done this before, and they’ll probably be a little nervous. Please help your aunts so they aren’t driven to the drink by your sisters.”

He laughs a little, and surprises you by wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you close to him. “Be safe, mom. I love you.” 

Tears prick at your eyes, and you hold him tight. “I love you so much, Jack.”

“Are you scared?”

You press a hand to the back of his head, and he burrows into your neck. “Only a little. I know I’m older, which can make some things difficult, but I’ll always come home to you.”

He nods. “Promise?”

“I promise as much as I can.”

Jack pulls away and swipes quickly at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Hey,” your brow crinkles in lighthearted concern. “What’s gotcha?”

He shakes his head. “It’s stupid”

“I can guarantee you it’s not.” While still a bit of a boy, Jack looks very much a man in the dark, lit only by the light of the hallway as the wheels turn in his head. You pick up one of his hands, and he places your linked fingers over your belly. 

“I just - I don’t - Ugh. It’s morbid - Nevermind.”

You huff a laugh. “Baby, remember that one-third of this house hunts serial killers for a living. Nothing is morbid.”

A smile quirks at his lips, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Just be okay? Please?”

You sober and nod, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Jack, do you think I would ever put you or your father into a position that can result in leaving either one of you?”

He shakes his head. “But things happen.”

“They sure do. Your dad will be with me the whole time and he can send you hourly updates if you want. I promise promise promise you’ll be in the loop, baby. I know you like to know.”

Your son’s eyes flicker to the doorway, where a shadow appears. It's Aaron, his backpack on and your go bag in his hand. 

“Ready?” 

You nod, stand (not without effort), and press another kiss to Jack’s head. “I love you bud. I’ll see you when our plus one arrives.” 

The plan is easy: Emily and Jessica are on their way over for the kids, and Dave and Spencer will relieve them after 12 hours. Derek, Savannah, JJ, and Will are only called when the baby arrives, to save them the angst of prematurely wrangling four children between them. 

The hospital is only eighteen minutes away, but with the way Aaron drives, it's more like ten. 

Time is fairly important - with your body accustomed to delivering babies, having done it twice before, there’s a very big chance active labor would only take a few hours, if that. 

Emily and Jess pull up to the house at the same time, both in their pajamas, holding their overnight bags.

“Ready?” Jess asks, kissing your cheek. 

You laugh. “Don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” 

Emily sets her things down and wordlessly hugs you. You wrap your arms around her as best you can. 

“Walk me out?” You ask. 

She slings an arm around your shoulders and you walk back out the front door. She situates you in the passenger seat, and you offer her a small smile. 

“You know,” she starts with a bit of a laugh, “every single time I’m just as nervous as I was when Henry was born.” 

You reach for her hand, and kiss the back of it. “Me too.” 

Everything goes according to plan after that. You sit in the car with your stopwatch while Aaron packs the car, checking the car seat base and putting everything that needs to go up with you in the trunk. Jess and Emily get set up on the couches in the living room, ready to settle in for the night. 

You're uncomfortable, sure, but it isn't unbearable yet. This is the tedious part. 

Miraculously, none of the little ones wake up in the commotion. The magic of white noise machines is never to be underestimated. 

“Time?” He calls from where he leans into the back of the car. He's handling the last details, in full field operations mode. 

You turn around. “5 minutes, 15 seconds.”

“Alright,” he looks up at you and grins widely. “Let’s go, baby.”

+++

Brienne breezes in and checks your charts and your dilation. “It’s go, time, here I think, Momma.”

You sigh and readjust. “Do I have to lay down?” Comfortable as you are, epidural all finished, you still feel a little restless. The alternative is worse - you’d delivered Isaac without any pain management, and thought it was the end of days. You didn’t, and won’t, make that mistake again. 

“Not necessarily, but if you’re going to shuffle around I would suggest a squat for the sake of your blood pressure.”

Another contraction hits, and it knocks the wind out of you. You squeeze Aaron’s hand so hard you fear you’ll break it, and inform him for the third time that morning that you hate his guts. 

“I know, honey. I’m sorry. I know. I’m the worst. Just breathe, okay?” He presses his forehead to your temple, giving you something to focus on. 

It sounds like you tell him to fuck off, but you aren’t sure. The wave crests and then falls, and you slump back against the pillows. “Okay, maybe I do want to lie down.” 

Everyone stifles a chuckle, but you didn't have it in you to be prideful. While you still have a few seconds, you double-check the plan. “Hey Brienne, we’re still good to tie today, right?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” she says, way too chipper for the small morning hour. She speaks quickly, knowing she has to finish her thought before your next contraction. “Soon as we’re all done, we’ll do a really quick procedure and everything will be squared away. If, for some reason, we have to do an emergency cesarean, we can do it right then as well.” 

Brienne is a great obstetrician - she never pulls punches when the news is difficult or stressful. Her straightforward nature immediately endeared her to your whole family. 

It's too much to think about, seeing as another contraction sneaks up on you as you ponder. It felt like only seconds since the last one. 

You're so tired. 

Brienne gestures to Aaron. They developed a bit of a language over the last two deliveries, and he presses a kiss to your temple. “You gotta push, babe.” 

“God, Fuck. I hate you, Aaron. Goddamn you. I’m never letting you near me ever again. Fuck.” A stream of expletives continues to leave you as you push and push and push. 

He only holds your hand and reminds you to breathe and push. He also tells you how much he loves you in between agreeing with your damning assessments. 

If he's honest, he always thinks your ire during childbirth is hilarious. It is kind of his fault, and he can't fathom the physical trauma, so he figures this is a fair role to fill while you do the hard work. 

On a small trough in your final set of contractions, you catch your breath enough to ask for his other hand. This is the hardest part, and it always makes you a little nervous. 

“Aaron, come here. Please.” He drapes his arm around your shoulders, and you grab his hand where it hangs by your collarbone. 

“You’re almost there, darlin’! We’re gonna be crowning here in a second.” You can't see Brienne, totally locked into her task, but her update is a relief. 

You lean heavily into Aaron and he rests his cheek against yours. While this is a shorter labor than both Isaac and the girls’, you're exhausted. Bone-deep tired and hot and cold all at once. 

“You’re doing so well. You’re a superhero. I love you so much.” He whispers his words against you, and you wail as another contraction hit.  Your choice of a walking epidural doesn’t knock the pain out entirely, and it still totally sucks. But again, better than the alternative.

“We’ve got a little Hotchner head! Keep going!” Brienne pats your knee and grins at you, and you follow instructions. “Do you want to catch, Dad?”

Before he can answer, you tell him, “If you move, I’ll kill you,” through your teeth. Aaron shrugs and looks over your head at Brienne, who suppresses a smile. 

There can't be any blood left in Aaron’s upper extremities at this point. In the midst of actively disliking him and your presence in your life in that particular moment, you're so grateful for him you could cry. 

Well, you could cry for a great number of reasons, but that’s definitely one of them. 

A few minutes and a pretty bad time later, a strong cry fills the room and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Aaron releases you as you unbutton your gown to expose your chest. 

“Your time to shine, Aaron.” Brienne holds up the umbilical cord clamp and snaps it together twice like a dad at a barbecue. With a smile, he stands and rounds the bed. 

You tried to peer over to see, but you're only able to see Aaron and Brienne.

A smile eats up his whole face. 

“Hi!” His voice pitches up, and you start to cry. 

You just love him so much your chest could just burst. Aaron is always the first person to greet your children as they come into the world, and he never fails to deliver a warm welcome. 

“Right here, right?” He looks to Brienne, and she nods. He cuts the cord, and the nurse crosses the room for measurements. 

Aaron returns to you and removes his own shirt, ready to take the little one while you finish delivery. After his crew neck is thrown to the side, he gathers you up in his arms again. 

There’s nothing you can do but melt into him. His skin is warm and he smells good, whereas your skin felt clammy and you probably smell like a horse’s ass. 

Brienne’s voice comes to you faintly from the other side of the room, iterating the specs of the newest addition. “Baby Boy Hotchner, 5:37am, August 13th, 8 pounds, 14 ounces, 21 inches.”

Okay I'm not crazy. He’s actually huge. 

Aaron scoots even closer as you lean away to get a better look. Brienne sets the still-squalling infant on your chest with gentle, warm hands. Your eyes blur with tears. Aaron isn't any better off, keeping one hand on you and another on your son, his own tears tracking quietly down his cheeks. 

Your son. 

Brienne sighs and says, “Alright, last bit here, and then you’re done.” 

You nod and Aaron takes him off your chest, leaning back with one hand under him and one hand over him. Fluid and other questionable grossness be damned, he ducks his head and presses his cheek to his son’s head, an ineffable joy radiating through his body. 

Aaron’s hands almost completely cover him - with his little knees tucked to his chest, he looks like an angry little loaf of bread. 

The afterbirth is the easy part, but then it was before, too. All the Hotchner kids are massive - even the girls were bigger for twins. 

You always make fun of Aaron for “ripping me to shreds, and not in a fun way.” 

(Okay, fine. Maybe a little in a fun way. Sometimes.)

There’s a little more pressure, and you look down at Brienne’s outline behind that infernal green medical paper shit. “How’s it going down there?”

“I’m getting these suckers tied off so we don’t have any more happy accidents. Don’t mind me.” 

Aaron stifles a laugh and you roll your eyes, still weepy. The nurse passes him a warm, wet washcloth, and he begins to wipe the ick from his son’s skin. 

Brienne finishes up and helps you get adjusted with ice packs and that excellent postpartum underwear. When she's satisfied, she removes her gloves and presses a hand to your bare shoulder. “Beautiful work, momma. He’s perfect.” 

You put a shaky hand over hers. “Thanks.” A little watery laugh leaves you. Ouch. “I’ll miss you.” 

And it's true. Brienne has been a semi-permanent fixture in your life for close to six years and has become a friend. You wouldn’t have any reason to see her again outside of regular check-ups. 

She squeezes your shoulder twice. “You ever need anything, you know who to call. Let someone know when you’re ready to put his name down, and they’ll finish off the birth certificate.” 

With that, she shepherds the nurse out the door, and you're alone with Aaron. 

“So,” you say. 

He smiles, his eyes still trained on the little body who has quickly quieted and is snoozing on his chest. “So?”

“Gimme that.” 

His laugh is warm, and he places little one on your chest again. You prod him awake, feeling only a touch bad about it, and offer him a snack. He latches right away, and you tip your head back in sheer relief. 

“Thank God.” 

Aaron nods in agreement. “That’s one less thing to worry about.” He shakes his head as if shaking something off - no doubt remembering the meltdowns night after night trying to nurse Isaac. 

Little one is still naked to the world, so you point at the little blue blanket folded across the room. “Can you grab that for me?” 

Aaron just looks at you for a second, as if seeing you for the first time.  “Of course.” 

He crosses the room, throws the blanket over his shoulder, and grabs a diaper. While the little one is distracted, he deftly maneuvers the diaper into place and drapes the blanket over him to keep the chill off while maintaining skin-to-skin.

You pull the blanket back a little so you can see his squishy little face. “Can you call Jack?” 

“Do we want to call him now? It’s pretty early.” Aaron leans over to his backpack and pulls his phone out, finding a couple requests for updates from Jess. First things first, he turns the camera on you, and you give him a thumbs up. You detach the little one from your nipple for a second, framing his face with the blanket. Aaron gets a good photo of a yawn and fires both pictures off to the BAU group chat before checking Jess’s messages. 

4:12am How we doin? 4:18am Jack’s up with me. He can’t sleep. Em is dead to the world - she gave up about an hour ago. Give us an update when you can. 

6:02am He’s adorable!!! He’s got your nose though, which is unfortunate. 6:02am Kidding. Maybe. 

Aaron laughs a little, and he looks at you. “He’s up with Jess.”

You nod. “Go ahead and call him. He’ll worry, honey.” 

He nods, and dials the second number on his speed dial. Jack picks up on the first ring. “Dad?”

“Hey, bud.” Aaron can't hide the smile in his voice. “Your brother is here and your mom wants to talk to you.” 

“Can I come see you?” Jack’s voice wavers a little, and Aaron knows it's relief, rather than anxiety. Much like his son, he was more than a little concerned for your safety. Now that it's over, he can finally relax. 

That alone is enough to make anyone emotional. 

Aaron checks his watch. “Are you too tired to drive?” 

“No, no. I’m good. I slept a little after you guys left.” he's quiet for a second. “Can you hand me to mom?”

“Sure, bud.” Aaron nods at you and you smile. He starts to pass the phone over to you then -

“Oh, dad?” Jack’s voice is only a little urgent. 

Aaron pulls the phone back to his ear. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, bud. I want to talk to Aunt Jess when you’re done with mom, so don’t hang up, okay?” 

With that, he hands you the phone and fresh tears roll down your cheeks. You know this part comes in waves - the emotions. Your hormones are in shambles, and you forget how intense it is every time. 

“Hey, Jack.” 

“Are you okay how did it go what happened?” All the questions come out in a rush.

You chuckle. Ouch. “Slow down there, kiddo. We’re just fine. It went really smoothly, but the last part happened kind of all at once and I denied your father personal freedom and geographic agency, so we didn’t get a chance to update you.” 

He laughs, and it warms you. “It’s okay. I’m really excited to meet him.” There’s a shuffle, and you assume it's his keys. 

Baby boy is finished eating, just nosing around your chest at this point. You shift, and Hotch catches the phone and holds it to your ear so you can use two hands, bringing little one’s head right under your collarbone, tucking him up again. “He’s excited to meet you, too.”

After Aaron has a chance to debrief and game-plan with Jess (“If you bring the little ones over here before 10am, nobody will have any fun.”), Jack is on his way. 

In the meantime, Aaron sets his phone on the side table and sits on the edge of your bed. “Are we sticking to the name we picked? Does it feel right?”

You nod. “I think so. What do you think?”

You do your best to inch yourself over - Ouch - so Aaron can have a little more space. He stretches out on the bed next to you, on his side with his arm folded under his head. A very large hand covers yours, pulling the blanket down to little one’s chin. 

“He looks like you,” he says. 

You snort. Ouch. “Don’t lie. All your damn kids look like you.”

“Alright, fine.” He relents with a wide smile. “He looks like me.” 

He's quiet for a moment, tracing the apple of little one’s cheek with his finger.  His smile morphs into something soft, pensive. It's the look he always has when he's in awe of his children. “What do you think, little man? Is your name Elliot David? How’s that sitting with you?”

The Elliot David in question just makes contented little staccato sounds from his chest, his brown eyes looking here and there, surprisingly alert. He lets out a little cough, and both you and Aaron let out an, “Oh!” simultaneously in that drawn-out way parents do when their kids surprise themselves. 

You look at him and stifle a laugh just for the sake of your exhausted muscles. Aaron’s smile soon turns shaky, and tears fall onto his elbow where it rests under his head. He takes a big breath, and it catches on the way out. 

“Oh, honey. Come here.” 

You adjust again, bringing the head of the bed down with the little remote. As you recline, you only need one hand to keep Elliot secure. You raise your other arm, and Aaron scoots under it, resting his head in the crook of your chest and shoulder. He snaps some buttons on your gown in the absent-minded interest of keeping Jack relatively unscarred. 

Aaron’s bare arm is warm under your fingers. You trace little patterns into his skin as he stares at the back of his son’s head. Elliot’s impossibly small hand catches Aaron’s finger in that death grip only babies seem to have. 

Aaron doesn’t care he's nearly twenty-four hours without sleep, missing a shirt, and really hungry. The only things that matter in this moment are right here in front of him. 

There’s no need to speak. 

A nurse stops by and drops off the bedside cradle, speaking quietly. “You can put him in here when you’re ready to get some rest.” 

You look up and thank him. “Oh, and we’d like to finish the birth certificate in a few hours. Will that be alright?”

He nods. “Just fine.” He checks your charts and leaves a few moments later. 

Soon after, the door slips open, and Jack’s head pops in. “Hi!” He stage-whispers. “Lemme see him.” 

Aaron is stuck where he is, still locked in by Elliot’s grip, so Jack crosses to your other side, pulling up a chair as close as he can get it. 

There is a sense of finality to this meeting. Elliot is your last child, and this is the last time the Three Musketeers will sit together, meeting the newest member of their family. 

“Oh man, Mom. He’s so cute.” Jack coos and ducks so he's eye-level with his baby brother. He traces a finger along Elliot’s tiny, straight nose. When he rests his head on your upper arm, you kiss his head. All three of you sit there until the sun rises, watching Elliot fall asleep. Aaron follows suit eventually, his breath fanning slow and even across your chest. 

+++

The three of you are relatively well-rested by the time your family comes to bombard you. 

Elliot woke twice in the early morning - once to be fed and the other to be changed. Jack retreated to the recliner after a certain point, and Aaron threw on a sweatshirt and curled up next to you for the duration. They're still out cold, while you rest somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. 

One of the nurses on rotation pops her head in. You wave at her with the tips of your fingers. 

“Your family is here to see you.” 

That wakes you up. You make an ‘eek’ face. “All of them?”

She nods. “Three at a time?” 

“Please.” You reach over and pick up a neatly-swaddled Elliot and tuck him into your elbow. You check the corner, where Jack still sleeps. You're sure a train could drive through the room and he’d still be out. That kid has sleeping superpowers - being sixteen only helped.  

Jess is first, holding the girls’ hands while Isaac trails a little behind. 

You put a finger to your lips and point to Elliot. “He’s sleeping, so you have to be really quiet, okay?”

Caroline clambers up on the bed with a few reminders to “be gentle with Mom and don’t lean on her too much,” and peers over you. “Is Daddy sleeping?”

You look to your right, and sure enough, Aaron is out like a light again, performance evaluations on his chest, his hand relaxed around his pen. “Yeah, baby. Daddy’s sleeping because he's awake for a really long time helping me with Elliot.” 

Newly reminded of the main event, Caro plants herself by your knee while Sophia sits by your hip, taking the good real estate. You look over at Jess and wink. She slips out, closing the door softly behind her. 

You scoot over so you're flush with Aaron’s side. “Come on up here, bubba.” 

Isaac gives you a little smile and perches at your side. “He’s so small.” 

“Yep. And look at that,” you brush your fingers down Elliot’s nose and tap his cupid bow before doing the same to Isaac. “You have the same nose.” 

Isaac smiles and raises a tentative hand. He hesitates right before he reaches the dark brown peach fuzz that sits in unmanageable cowlicks on Elliot’s head. 

“You can touch him, bub. Just be gentle.” Isaac’s hand smooths over Elliot’s head with next-to-no pressure. “Do you remember when Sophia and Caroline were born?” 

Isaac nods. “It was super cool.”

“It was super cool.” You kiss his forehead and adjust your hold on Elliot. “Sophia, love, can you hand me the pillow that’s by Daddy’s knee.” 

She nods and very carefully presents it to you. You show her how to stuff it under your elbow so you can relax while supporting Elliot’s head. Caro is clearly enamored, her eyes never leaving Elliot’s face. 

“Babies are really delicate,” you remind a wiggling Sophia. “Their heads are too heavy for their little necks, so sometimes they need a little help.” 

At the mention of ‘help,’ Aaron’s eyes snap open. “What’s up?”  

You suppress a laugh as he realizes all of his kids surround him like the children of the corn. He presses a hand to his face, recovering. “Oh. Hi.”

Caro beams at him, and he beams right back. He puts his files down and pats his lap. “Come here, my little love. I’ve got a really good view over here.” 

She very mindfully picks her way over your shins and into her father’s lap. He lifts her so she's flush to his chest. His cheek presses into her hair, and he shows her where to find Elliot’s little baby toes under the blanket. 

“Are his feet very very small?” Caroline’s whispered question almost makes Aaron cry again. 

“Yes. They are very very small. So are his hands. Here, look.” 

He reaches over and peels back a layer of blanket, exposing one of Elliot’s (very very) small hands, pressed flat against the fabric. Aaron wiggles his finger under it and presents it to the kids. “If you look really carefully, you all have the same hands.” 

All at once, three pairs of hands appear, flipping their palms up and down as each one individually assesses the similarities. 

“And if you look even closer,” he says, flipping his palm down, but keeping Elliot’s hand aloft, “I have the same hands as all of you, too.”

Caroline looks up at him, awestruck and he nods. She places her hand on the back of Aaron’s and - lo and behold - they're the same shape, just significantly different sizes. 

Satisfied, Sophia drops her hands, leaning on them to get a closer, yet stable, look at Elliot’s fingers. 

She gasps, but to her credit, keeps her voice soft as she says, “Look at his tiny little nails!” 

“Lemme see!” Aaron supports Caro as she thrusts her body forward to get a better look. 

Jack stirs in the corner, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. In full voice, he says, “Oh, hey guys.” 

Three big shushes come from the kids, and it takes everything in you to keep your laugh locked away. You keep your eyes trained on Sophia (who looks downright offended at Jack’s volume) knowing if you look at Aaron you’d be done for. 

Jack makes the same ‘eek’ face you made earlier. “Sorry, sorry.” He creeps over, standing behind Sophia and putting his hands on her shoulders. She giggles quietly as he drops close to her ear. “Cute, huh?”

She wrinkles her nose. “He looks a little funny.” 

“He’ll start to look more like a person in a few weeks,” Aaron says with a smile. “You looked pretty funny the day you're born, maybe even funnier.”

He winks at her, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles again, leaning back against Jack. As she did so, her brother wrapped her in his arms and rested his chin on her head. 

Isaac runs his hand over Elliot’s hair, gentle and repetitive. He, like Jack did hours earlier, rests his head against your shoulder. You press your cheek to the crown of his head, soaking it in. 

“I like him.” 

A smile breaks your face in half, and you peer around to look at Isaac’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s cool.” 

Your bottom lip disappears into your mouth as you fight back tears, still ready to flow without fair warning. You don’t want to scare them. “I’m so glad you think so, bubba.” 

Elliot has once again taken Aaron’s finger hostage, and it takes more than a little negotiation to get him unwrapped and tucked back into his blanket. You have no idea how Elliot manages to sleep through all the commotion, but then again, he’ll have to get used to it. 

Jess pokes her head back in. “Ready for some lunch?”

Four heads whip around and nod vigorously. Aaron deposits Caro on the floor, while Isaac presses a heart-wrenching kiss to Elliot’s head before gingerly getting his feet back under him. Jack just lifts Sophia and she hangs off his hip, only a little too big. 

He walks to you and kisses your cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

You bring your hand up to his temple, the back of your fingers brushing his hair back. “I love you too, my Jack.” 

One side of his mouth turns up in a smile, and he leaves the room with Sophia, leading the rest of the pack down the hallway. 

+++

It's safe to say Dave immediately covets his namesake. You plop Elliot into his arms right away, and say, “This is Elliot David Hotchner. He’s been very excited to meet you.”

Dave full-on cries, letting the tears just fall onto his shirt as he bounces Elliot all around the room, talking to him about all the ways he’ll spoil him rotten. 

It’s easy to name him after Rossi. When you finally decided on a couple of first names, it was a no-brainer to pair them up with David. He’s your family, like they all are, but you're acutely aware that Elliot will have the smallest amount of time with Dave, no matter how much time that will be. 

When Dave is ready to give him up, he reluctantly passes him back to Aaron. Dave crosses to you while Aaron offers Elliot a knuckle to mouth around on. 

Dave kisses your cheeks and embraces you. He leans back to look at you, keeping his hands on your face. You cover his hands with your own and close your eyes. 

You're taking a lot of mental pictures today. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you're sure you see Aaron’s one-handed camera work out of the corner of your eye. 

“Thank you, bellissima.” 

“You’ve more than earned it,” you remind him.  

“Dealing with you two for fifteen years? You’re damn right I have.”

+++

a joyful future tag list:  @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @thatinspiredgirl @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @synonymforlame @lcvischmitt

[rhetorical-ink]

Haikyuu!! Ship Analysis: OiHina

**SUNSHINE SETTER SPOILERS BELOW**

With all the negative in the world, Furudate really said, “screw you, 2020, I’m giving everyone some good food” with Haikyuu!! coming into this year, and with the manga concluded, I want to go back and examine some popular ships and why we love them/why they work. 

The 2020-2021 Haikyuu!! calendar just dropped and I was pretty excited to see the month of August highlighted with this image: 

So, this calendar image, followed by the cover of the Haikyuu!! Light Novel, volume 12, has really screamed, “Oihina rights!” to many fans, myself included. But...why has this ship grown in popularity? What has Furudate given us fans to fuel the flames for this pairing? Well, let’s find out, with this analysis!

Part I. Setting Up A Rivalry...

So, it’s been established early on that Oikawa views Kageyama as a threat, and has been constantly working to make sure he stays superior to his rival setter. But from Chapter 14, there was the faintest inklings of rivalry established between Oikawa and Hinata -- starting with this famous scene from Chapter 14, “Versus the Great King”: 

Despite Oikawa looking frustrated they lost the game, this is his reaction immediately following the moment in Chapter 15. He seems to get over his initial shock, as it’s replaced with some...other...emotion, it seems: 

And later, we can see the foundation of the dynamic Oikawa establishes with both Hinata and Kageyama. Notice how in this scene he offers Hinata polite praise for his winning move, while immediately challenging Kageyama, who clearly did not sign up for this barrage of taunts. 

It’s interesting, because it kind of sets Oikawa up as a rival for Kageyama...just like Hinata. We’ll talk more about Hinata and Oikawa’s similarities below, but I love how this weird “Rival Triangle” has formed between these three and carries on into both matches of Karasuno vs. Aoba Johsai later on.

PART II. Oikawa’s Not-So Subtle Focus on Hinata:

While there are hints in the practice match that Oikawa recognizes Shoyo could be a threat, we don’t see Oikawa really focusing on Hinata until later, when Aoba Johsai shows up to watch Karasuno’s game before they play them in Chapter 39, “The Return.” I like how Oikawa is not at ALL impressed with Asahi,

But seconds later, is all-hungry-eyes on Hinata’s “god-mode” set: 

And then there’s Chapter 48, “The Conductor.” I love this chapter.  I saw this image on Twitter, and I about fell out of my seat laughing:

Seriously. Think about it. Oikawa sat like that for over an HOUR, listening to Hinata screaming “Bring it” and “Give it.” No, no, we’re fine over here...

Of course, we see how Oikawa views Hinata as a threat during their first match up against them in the Inter High Prelim Qualifier match in Chapters 61-63:

His reference to Shoyo as a “Monster” is consistently brought up in the series, and then, waaaay later on in Chapter 189 at the end of the Shiratorizawa match, acknowledges how Hinata is indeed the type of hitter you WANT to throw the ball to, foreshadowing Inarizaki and Atsumu Miya literally 100 chapters early: 

PART III. “We’re Not So Different, You and I”

So, this leads us to the dreaded Chapter 365 and onward into the now-infamous “Rio Mini Arc.” I’ve noted it in a previous post, but during Takeda’s lecture to Shoyo in Chapter 365, and then later on in chapter 368-369, any time the words “defeat” or “hurdle” are thrown up, there’s an image of Oikawa beside them. In this moment, we are to meant as readers to liken Hinata’s hurdles and obstacles with those that plagued our main antagonist, Oikawa, all those chapters ago. You may be wondering why Furudate would set such a thing up...well, in Chapter 371, we get this reveal:

Ah, yes, of all places and of all people -- Shoyo wasn’t the only one crazy enough to trek across the ocean to South America to improve his game. Oikawa did too, only going to Argentina instead of Brazil. Yes, as Kindaichi and Kunimi kindly observe, Shoyo and Oikawa may have more in common that we the readers gave credit to, originally, as we see in the precursor to the best damn selfie in the whole series and possibly manga history: 

But it’s below that’s kind of the crux of this whole OiHina ship for me -- It’s not just that Oikawa and Shoyo are so alike...it’s that Oikawa and Kageyama are so alike, too:

Oikawa, whether he wants to admit it or not, has a lot in common with our blueberry setter...the difference, as we can see in these panels, is that unlike Kageyama, Oikawa is GREAT with communication. His ability to communicate with his team and connect with them is his hallmark as a player, right? 

Take for example, this situation below. If it’d been Kageyama, he’d probably fluster around, call Hinata “boke” and they’d bicker and carry on -- Oikawa, though, rightfully takes the compliment and runs with it, even adding in that flirty little tag there at the end. You’re not helping matters, Furudate...

Back to similarities with Hinata, though, and showing just how much Hinata has GROWN to Oikawa, we have this conversation below. Oikawa started out this manga literally calling Shoyo and Tsukishima “dumb.” Now, 300+ chapters later, he’s acknowledged that Hinata is “thinking” ahead...doing very much the same kind of crazy tricks to improve himself that Oikawa has chosen as well.

Also, good to know that Hinata initiated wanting to get Oikawa’s contact info; plus, Oikawa having to deal with his own teammates just giving him a hard time 24/7, when Shoyo’s offering open praise? No wonder he latched on...

But seriously, go read Chapters 373 and 374 in their fullest -- there are TOO many amazing moments between Shoyo and Oikawa to count, but they all show this forming friendship that I’m just in love with, like this one from 373: 

And while I LOVE the moment Oikawa calls our ray of sunshine straight-up “Shoyo” and shakes his hand, acknowledging their friendship and respect for each other, I really love this final shot of Oikawa before we see him at the Olympics. That panel of him walking away, reminding Shoyo that he has a looooong way to go, but showing his sudden motivation to get even better: 

Seriously, in the anime, I have a feeling that one episode is going to end with the ending of Chapter 371, and then they’ll probably just have one episode encapsulate Chapters 372 - 374, which I will be sad if it’s one episode in the anime...but MAN, I’m going to be watching that episode on repeat for a while, just to see these chapters re-imagined in animation.

PART IV. To The Olympics...and BEYOND!

The final chapter of Haikyuu!! graced us with the reunion of our ray of sunshine and our sassy trash king setter, and let’s be real -- we all need this animated...and to have Atsumu and Kageyama’s reactions on display in this moment, just for the fun of it.

And ya’ll wonder why there’s so many Rio/Brazil Fling fics out there?!

I think, besides this hug, what cements this ship after this last chapter is the following: 

* Even if it’s just a platonic friendship, it’s still one of the most fun and freshly developed friendships in the series, and makes sense going back from start to finish in the manga.

* Even if it’s just a fling, it’s flirty, fun, and could be the stepping stone for shippers that want to spice up their Iwaoi/Kagehina drama/angsty fics by adding in a little “fling” for Oikawa and/or Hinata to go through before reconnecting with their soulmates, if that’s your ship.

* And even if you want to view it as something more than platonic friendship or stepping stones into other ships, it still works. I mean, after all, Hinata went to play for Brazil after the Olympics. And Brazil’s a stone’s throw away from Argentina...so...who knows what could have ended up happening, right?

Furudate definitely doesn’t confirm many ships (with the exception of Tanaka and Kiyoko), but he definitely lays out some crumbs for us the fandom to nibble on and speculate with endlessly. OiHina may not be my OTP for Hinata, but I will never deny that it’s fun, spicy, and presents a VERY nuanced way to view the relationship between one of my favorite manga protagonist and antagonist pairings. Furudate, you are a genius. Thank you for the food!

[honey-dewey]

Loving You is a Losing Game

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Reader

Word Count: 2,602

Warnings: Gore, loss of limbs/appendages, medical procedures, implied experimentation, big Reader whump, Marcus is depressed, this is 99% angst, I’m sorry in advance, I promise it has a happy ending. 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Two weeks before he was going to propose to you, you disappeared from Marcus’s life. With no idea where you went or who took you from him, Marcus devotes himself to finding you, even if it costs him his life. Meanwhile, you’re struggling to keep alive in a cell, wishing you had your hero by your side. What must you lose to reunite with Marcus? 

A/N: An anon asked me to write some Reader whump with Marcus after I posted my Marcus whump, and boy oh boy did I deliver! I hope this satisfies you, anon, because I’m oddly proud of it.

Every second that passed was agonizing. Marcus was pacing up and down and up and down, waiting for Miracle Guy to return from his mission. To see if they’d caught sight of you.

You’d been gone from him for six months now. You’d missed his birthday, and Missy’s, and even your own. He’d been planning to ask you on your birthday, the ring heavy in his pocket even now. But you’d been taken, kidnapped by an unnamed threat that hadn’t shown itself again. He had been inconsolable for weeks, but dragged himself to work on the hope that one day there would be news. And today was that day. Or at least, he hoped it was.

“Marcus.”

Marcus looked up. Miracle Guy stood in front of him, worried, holding a piece of paper. A photograph. He surged forward, moved by instinct and instinct alone.

“It’s all we could find,” Miracle Guy said softly, handing over the photo. “They did DNA tests. It’s theirs.”

The photograph wavered dangerously as Marcus took in the contents. Three fingers, bloodied at the ends, lay on the pavement, the blood long since dried up into the ground. They were old.

“Marcus? Are you okay?”

Marcus shook his head. They had you. They’d injured you. They had no fear of hurting you. Would they kill you?

He looked up, vision blurry with tears and anger. “They’ll pay for this.”  

Marcus didn’t rest for days. He was fueled only by coffee, anger, determination, and fear. Even Missy, who had mourned your loss as much as he had, was worried for him. He was killing himself to find you.

Finally, he found a lead.

Well, technically someone else found it. A smashed VHS tape found near the fingers. It took Tech-No days to fix it properly, but when he did, no one liked what they heard.

There was no image on the tape. The camera had been angled towards the blank wall, the faded patterns of bricks grey and fuzzy. The sounds though. Oh god the sounds.

It started with suppressed sobs. Marcus clenched his fists, trying not to scream. That was you, sobbing, shuddering breaths so full of fear. Heavy footsteps entered the room, and your breathing picked up, racing quickly to full panic mode.

“No, please,” you begged, voice thin and weak. “Please!” You sounded desperate, and there were rough sounds, the sounds of skin on stone. A sliding noise, like metal on fabric, and then a sound so loud and shocking that everyone in the room jumped.

You screamed, high and bloodcurdling. Frenzy entered your voice as you shrieked and shrieked and shrieked. Marcus was frozen, the complete terror and pain you were conveying with a single noise making him incapable of movement. He vaguely registered someone throwing up behind him, but all he could focus on was your continued screaming.

Finally, the tape stopped, cutting off one of your screams. Tech-No stepped forward, a bit paler than he’d been before he showed the tape. “Given recent evidence, we can safely assume that tape was of them removing three of (Y/N)’s fingers.”

Whoever had thrown up heaved again, the sick splattering sounds tame in comparison to what everyone else had just heard.

Marcus was the first to speak. “We’re finding them. Right now.”

———

You had lost all sense of day and night, and your only indicator of time was when your single meal arrived. A metal tray shoved under a flap in the thick metal door. Your food was typically meager and rotten, but you ate like a man starved. Mostly because in the beginning you had been.

As you crawled towards the tray, the chains binding your thick leather collar to the wall clinking, you tried your best to keep the weight off your left hand. Two weeks ago, the cruel men who’d kidnapped you had cut three of your fingers off and left you with nothing to fix the bleeding stumps. You’d eventually resorted to ripping up a pant leg to bind your hand and staunch the bleeding.

Today’s meal was a few bites of stale bread and a quarter serving of stone cold soup. You kept pace in eating, knowing that scarfing it all down would result in vomiting. And in the first months, it had. Your cell still stank from how much you’d thrown up in there, but it was buried among the other smells. Not that you could even smell it now.

You drank half the water they gave you, and used the other half to wash out your hand. It was the first major injury they’d given you, and you’d tried to take care of you. Despite your tending and the daily washings out, the hand was swollen and red, the site of the injury a sick sort of yellow with spots that were actually turning brown. It was burning hot to the touch and oozed something that reeked, even in the disgusting cell. You’d be lucky if you’d be able to keep the hand. Hell, you’d be lucky to keep the whole arm at this point.

“I’ll be lucky if I don’t die here,” you said bitterly to yourself, ripping another long strip of fabric off your discarded pants with your teeth and slowly wrapping up your hand, biting back tears. The only fingers left were your index and thumb, and they didn’t look good.

When your body succumbed to exhaustion, you curled up on the threadbare mattress and used the single moth bitten blanket to preserve body heat. Sleep was easy and dreamless now, and you often woke at the smallest of sounds. Like the man walking past your cell every so often, maybe every half hour? You wished you had a watch. You wished you had many things. Shivering beneath your blanket, you curled closer into the corner and wished for Marcus.

Marcus was not there when your eyes opened. You woke up to the harsh scrape of the door opening and two men grabbing you to drag you out. You kicked and screamed, but it did nothing. The men were stronger than you, and in your starved state, you were too weak to do much more than flail.

A rough scrap of fabric was tied around your face, killing your vision. A second one followed quickly, sitting uncomfortably between your lips and silencing your voice. Your feet didn’t want to carry you, so the men did it for you, carting around your dead weight as if it were nothing.

Just as suddenly as they’d lifted you, the men put you down, and you whined as harsh lights filled your eyes when the blindfold was removed. You were at the start of a long white hallway, branches of the hall snaking out and around. Had they put you in a maze?

A harsh jolt around your ankle sent you shrieking, kicking your feet to attempt to dislodge the heavy ankle bracelet you wore. It didn’t move, and a sharper stab raced up your leg as you danced around like you were possessed.

Finally, you started to run, racing down pristine white corridors and working yourself dizzy. You unwrapped your hand, hoping the dripping blood and pus would help guide you, like a gory version of Theseus’s yarn. But all it did was confuse you until every hallway was filled with smeared bodily fluids and you had no way to turn.

You had no idea how long you were in the maze. Hours? Days? Time was irrelevant here. Whenever you tried to stop, to rest or to find reprieve from the stabbing pain in your feet, the ankle bracelet would shock you harder and harder until you moved again. The blinding lights never dimmed, and finally, finally, your body gave out.

The anklet shocked you once, twice, three times and then yet again for good measure. All you did was twitch, lying exhausted on the floor, the world underneath you spinning like an out of control carousel. “Marcus,” you croaked, your dying voice a harsh scrape in your throat. You hadn’t had water in hours, was it hours? Spots swam through your vision as two people in white coats came to collect you, putting your limp body on a stretcher and wheeling you away. You were tossed into a cell, this one whiter and lighter than your last one. You had no time to investigate the new room as one person, the woman, poured water down your throat while the other shackled you to the wall again. The woman checked your vitals and wrote down some numbers while the man used white bandages and soft gauze pads to cover the ruin of your left hand. You weren’t coherent enough to tell if he’d put any disinfectant on the wound, but you could guess that he didn’t. No one here was that kind to you.

“Rest,” the woman said, putting a hand on your head in what you assumed was her idea of comfort. “We’ll try it again later.”

You couldn’t even argue as your body shut down, plunging you into the darkness of your dreamless sleep.

When you woke, it was not to the scientists or the bad men. It was to faint gunfire and a large figure bursting into your new cell. You scrambled upright, immediately tossing your hands up to protect your face, knees hugged to your chest to make yourself small and heavy. But no blows came, no rough hands touched your skin. Only soft shuffled footsteps and labored breathing. Braving a peak, you saw a man silhouetted by light, the familiar outline of katanas over the person’s shoulders breaking your heart.

“Marcus,” you said weakly, uncurling. As your eyes adjusted and the door slowly began to close, you were able to take Marcus in fully. He looked a wreck, exhaustion written all over his face and a broken expression twisting his usually kind features. He fell to his knees, and you crawled forward to meet him, throwing yourself into his arms and letting yourself be wracked by sobs for the first time in months. Your malnourished and anemic body shook violently, but you had never felt more steady, cradled in Marcus’s embrace.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Marcus breathed, voice unsure and wavering.

You shook your head. You had no words, no ability to speak right now. Instead, you just pressed yourself tighter to him, tears ruining his shirt. You could barely register Marcus cutting through your collar and discarding it on the floor.

Marcus stood, cradling your broken body to his chest. He carried you out, past other heroes who all fell silent at your current condition. Marcus lay you down on a stretcher once you were outside and rode with you to the hospital, holding your unruined hand the entire time. You focused only on his grip, grounding yourself to it. You would be okay as long as Marcus Moreno was holding your hand.

The next few days were very fuzzy. You were in and out of an operating room, usually asleep and always drugged. After so long in pain, the gentle numbness of not being hurt was worrying. You had been right, half of your left arm had been too badly damaged to salvage. Below your left elbow now lay nothing, no hand to hold and no fingers to squeeze. Marcus held your right hand instead, pressing kisses into your palm and slowly running his thumb over your knuckles while he read.

Aside from the arm, your injuries had been few and far between. A couple scrapes that needed disinfectant, a broken rib that had healed incorrectly and needed surgery, and the rubbed raw skin of your neck that had been healed. You’d slowly begun to gain weight again, no longer skin and bones. Your hair, which had been greasy and matted, had been shorn off and was now regrowing. Your body had finally begun to rework its circadian rhythm, your sleeps lining up with the rise and fall of the sun.

Marcus took a breath beside you, his thumb absently circling over your index knuckle as he read. He’d been touching you in some way ever since you’d been found. Gentle hands touching yours while he watched TV, shoulders pressed together when he told you about Missy, the softest of kisses against your temples  when your head hurt. You smiled, turning to Marcus and blinking slowly. He’d been working for weeks to restore your smile, and now you had it back, albeit shaky and nervous.

“What’s that look for?” Marcus asked, turning to you, one corner of his mouth rising slightly in amusement.

Your grin only grew. “You,” you said. “I love you.”

Marcus leaned forward, turning so he was fully facing you. “The day you were taken,” he said softly, taking your right hand in both of his. “I was so scared. It was two weeks before your birthday, remember? And I had been bursting with joy, because we were going to spend the evening together, just you and me.”

“Marcus,” you interrupted quietly. “What are you saying?”

“Hush dear, indulge me,” Marcus insisted, moving one hand to trace his knuckles across the curve of your cheekbone. “That night, on your birthday, I was going to ask you something. Something that would’ve changed our lives forever. I’d spent months planning, making sure the night would be perfect, and then the universe stole you from me.”

You sighed, wishing you could cup Marcus’s face in your hands. Instead, you settled on resting your only hand on his right shoulder. He put his hand against yours, the warmth seeping into your skin. “Now,” he continued. “I wish I could ask you as easily as I had wanted to. This has all brought to light how precious you are to me. How much you make me happy. Darling, my light and my love, I want to be beside you forever, and I want you at my side. We will stumble, that I’m sure of, and there will be days where we will hate the very ground the other walks upon. But I’m willing to risk the fleeting bad for the abundant good.” He reached into his pocket and produced a slender ring made of twisted silver and shining gemstones. “Will you marry me?”

You had no words. Looking at Marcus, who was so sincerely pouring his heart out, you felt some kind of shame that you had no response except shock. Not shock that he was proposing, because you two had briefly talked about marriage. No, you were shocked at his emotion. His heart wrenching tone. The look of worry on his face as you sat there, silent.

It took a minute, but you finally managed to compose yourself long enough for a very strangled sounding “Yes.”

Marcus’s face brightened as you nodded, both of you tearing up. “Here,” he said, sliding the ring onto your ring finger. “It’s beautiful.”

You smiled, pulling Marcus close and hugging him as tight as you possibly could. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Marcus breathed, embracing you as firmly as you had him. “I’m so glad I get to say that to you again.”

The pair of you spent the rest of the day pressed against each other, Marcus getting into your bed with you as you drifted in and out of sleep. While he watched some horribly violent fantasy TV show, you dozed against his shoulder, the gentle hug of the ring on your finger a constant reminder that no matter what threats came your way, you would always have Marcus.

[fallout-lou-begas]

Howdy! I remember reading in some of your posts that you use some mods to make the game harsher and more difficult, would you be willing to post a list? (or link me to one if you've already made the post- I couldn't seem to find it) I'm just starting to get into using mods for new vegas and the mods you seem to like look to be right up my alley

Hi! I’m so glad you asked, I’m very happy to make some recommendations.

Lou’s Mod Recommendations for Masochists (or: Creating a Disempowerment Fantasy)

Interior Lighting Overhaul / Darker Nights / Directional Flashlights: A combination of mods that make navigating around in the dark a lot more interesting and dangerous. ILO removes all artificial light sources from interiors so that caves and ruins don’t seem unnaturally bright, DN does exactly what it says on the tin, and DF replaces the Pip-boy Light with a handheld, unidirectional flashlight that must be equipped (or worn, if you craft a harness or have a compatible helmet) in order to be used. You can see them in action in this video.

Med-Tek Trauma Kit / More Conditions to Fast Travel / Better Crippled Legs: As I explain in the linked post, these three mods in conjunction revolutionize the significance of getting your limbs damaged, which can turn a sudden injury in combat into a severe game-changer.

No Magic Compass / Remove Compass POI Markers: I forget which of these actually work but I use them in conjunction. These remove the little ticks for locations and NPCs from your compass so that it’s just that: a compass, plain and simple. If you still want Perception to be useful as a stat now that you’ve removed its effect on your compass radius, try Precise VATS, which ties your accuracy and range with VATS to that stat.

Manual Reload: a small mod, but a great one! All this does is prevent the game from automatically reloading your weapon for you, either when you run out of ammo or switch from one weapon to another. This forces you to pay more attention while firefighting, lest you be caught firing dry with an enemy charging you down. Also, manual reloading just...feels good? You get to push a button, and I love having more reasons to push buttons. This mod pairs exceptionally well with Empty Clicks for an immersive indication of being spent.

No Skill Tags: This mod very simply removes the [Bracketed] labels from dialogue options that indicate that it’s a skill check. In addition to being more immersive, it prevents you from seeing that you’re too low to pass a check, and if you’re proactive you’ll live with the consequences of trying it and failing it anyway.

Cover-Based Stealth: In addition to overhauling the extremely simple detection AI of vanilla New Vegas into a system based on line of sight across larger distances (if a distant NPC catches a glimpse of you, they’ll actually come over to investigate!!), its most important feature is the most easy to use global damage variable slider I’ve seen yet from any other mod. Basically, you can multiply the damage dealt by you and to you by however much you want. Setting a high multiplier turns combat into a swift, bloody, and extremely dangerous affair. Compare this to the in-game harder difficulties where the only thing that happens is that enemies get more hit points and combat becomes only more tedious, not actually more difficult. Cover-Based Stealth is also a completely modular add-on, so you can only use the parts of it you like and ignore the rest!

Project Nevada: PN is an overhaul mod that I find difficult to recommend on the whole, but it’s so modular in its design and approach that you, like me, can use maybe 10% of its features while ignoring the other 90% and it’ll work just fine. Most pertinent to me is its Rebalance Module, which lets you easily customize so many features like the toughness of the economy, the rate at which you must fulfill survival needs in Hardcore mode, your movement speed with one or two broken legs (which would make Better Crippled Legs redundant), formulas for carry weight and other statistics, and leveling rates such as experience gain and perk rate. My personal configuration is a tougher economy, slightly harsher hardcore rates, 45% and 20% movement speed from broken leg(s), the least encumbrance possible (which makes backpack items, included in PN but also available in many other mods, a necessity), and a far slower leveling rate: a perk every three levels instead of two, only 5 skill points per level, and tagged skills only receive a +10 bonus but have a x2 multiplier to all skill points invested into them. I can’t recommend slowing down skill point gain enough because there’s seriously not much in vanilla settings stopping you from becoming a God of Everything laughably early.

Immersive HUD: A fully configurable, positionable, hide-able HUD that lets you create a far less obtrusive user-interface. It’s handy for a litany of reasons, but for a more difficult experience specifically, try hiding your ammo count so that you actually have to keep track of your own bullets in your head. Pull your best Dirty Harry and ask yourself whether you fired five shots or six, and whether you’re feeling lucky.

Finally, in addition to these mods, you can take in-game steps to make your gameplay experience more difficult as well. Do not take perks such as Comprehension, which is counter-intuitive to reducing skill point gain, or Living Anatomy, which while a very neat mechanic completely removes the challenge of learning which ammo types are most effective against specific enemies on your own and the suspense of a protracted firefight. Sell skill books instead of reading every single one. That kind of thing. I also don’t have a specific mod to recommend that achieves it cleanly, but when I start a new game, I plan for my character to have 5 less SPECIAL points to invest than the game actually allows, and after creating my character I just use console commands to adjust them to a lower rate. I also use console commands to remove far more caps from my inventory whenever I see a doctor, because (especially with mods that affect buying and selling prices), being restored to peak-perfect health should cost a lot more to maintain balance. Don’t ever be afraid to use console commands to just make things work the way you want them to!

All of these mods and tips are not hard and fast rules or things that make one experience objectively “better,” this is just my best advice for turning the game into something that suits my own personal playstyle, which is beign the weakest, shittiest, poorest, underdoggiest courier in the wasteland.

[armillary-spheres-lover]

Heart fixes in enneatypes 5

Introduction

Hey guys! This is a general masterpost for cores 5 about their heart fixes! Sadly, online descriptions regarding your fixes are always very very poor, so here I'm trying to imagine how core's and 2nd fix' fears and strategies interact with each other. Basically, here are 3 subtypes of 5, classified based on the way they deal with the Feeling/Self-Image Triad.

I think that classifying types based on their 2nd fix makes sense, more so than classifying them by their 3rd fix, since it has mostly such a weak component in your general personality/in your daily priorities. Plus, 5s, being withdrawn types, are most likely to be gut lasts: so their 2nd fix is most likely to be from the Heart Center. Hence this post.

To be honest with you all, this can turn out to be more theoretical than practical (and I mean, as enneatype descriptions tend to be) since I don't actually have many in real life examples and I'm not entirely sure about my own heart fix, so yeah, take all of this with a grain of salt and feel free to criticize my descriptions (honestly it'd be helpful). I just wanted to try to give a more in depth analysis since fixes are a really interesting concept but there's so little information online...

Disclaimer: in order to make this work better one should compare themselves with other ennea5 in their life, possibly with a different heart fix than you. Comparing oneself to 5s online or in fiction can be more,,, eh (you don't see them acting in ther day-to-day life, and fictional characters are meant to be seen by the public in a certain way). I don’t know about comparing yourself to other types who seem to have a different fix than you... (like, say, comparing yourself to who is probably a 6 with a 4fix to understand how a 4fix would look like) it may work or it may not, I guess

5-2:

Uncertainty about the future and the world's dangers is faced by withdrawing. Fear of being worthless is faced by trying to earn validation and attention.

Double Rejection Triad

Obviously, the problems that come from the rejection triad are very present here - they have different strategies to deal with this feeling of rejection, and that is by ignoring their own needs, be that by retreating entirely or by attending to others' needs (they shift according to the circumstances).

Exposing their needs to someone not only feels embarassing and threatening, but it may also cause guilt

Hypersensitivity

According to Naranjo, 5s are hypersensitive, specifically when it comes to other people's demands. "In other words, a great sensitivity to interference goes hand-in hand with an over-docility, in virtue of which the individual interferes all too easily with her own spontaneity, with her preferences, and with acting in a way coherent with her needs in the presence of others. Also, in light of this over-docility (understandable as a by-product of a strong repressed love need) we can understand the particular emphasis in aloneness in ennea-type V. To the extent that the relationship entails alienation from one’s own preferences and authentic expression there arises an implicit stress and the need to recover from it: a need to find oneself again in aloneness.". It seems obvious to me that all of this would be heavily present in the 5-2 individual. He most likely feels highly obliged to attend to other people's or authorities' demands. Let's say, easily guilt-tripped (they won't necessarily act immediately on that guilt though).

This means they have an extreme need to withdraw after a social meeting: they will try to meet other people's needs but they can soon get too tired and retreat again.

It's more difficult for them not to care (as other 5s may do) not only or really about other people's opinions, but about other people's needs and emotions. and maybe they also don't relate that much to 5 descriptions where their need to have a stoic and hyper-rational attitude is emphasized, but of course this is not necessarily the case. (Naranjo does say in his description that 5s oscillate between insensitivity and hypersensitivity, and it seems to me that a 5-2 would easily tend more towards the hypersensitive side. Still, insensitivity is the way 5s deal with hypersensitivity itself, so they may switch to insensitive mode sometimes, otherwise they would burn out or something)

Depeding on their wing/iv, they may help others even when they don't really feel like it - usually, if they feel acting on their 2 strategies would require too much energy/that it's not worth it they'll just let it go. Core needs and strategies are a priority of course. (something similiar may happen to 3-fixers, although their goals are different).

Knowledge in the service of others

Uses their knowledge to help people.

Probably more comfortable helping in a practical/informative way rather than emotionally

They may be very self-conscious about their comforting abilities though (feeling they're never doing enough to show that they care): they may have consciouly learned how to improve in this area and how to improve their Emotional Intelligence in general

Still, surely has excellent cognitive empathy

Simply put, their desire to be competent can traslate into a desire to be competent from an emotional/helper point of view.

"Fear of being useless", as you see in some 5 descriptions - oh boy.

Vibes, wings and mistypings

At a party they would keep in the background but probably try to show somehow to the host that they're grateful for being invited, even in non-verbal ways (depends on their energy levels)

The one emotion they're more comfortable expressing (not necessarily feeling: in fact, they may not even feel it) is contentment ("I don't need anything, don't worry") or care ("what can I do to help you?")

5w4 emphasizes empathy but 5w6 emphasizes sociability

They probably mistyped as a 9 at some point, especially if they're female/afab.

Def can look like soc 5

To sum up

How 2 strategies are used to cope with 5-ish fears:

Hiding own needs = also means avoiding exposing oneself and feeeling vulnerable

Knowing what to do for others = feeling competent, capable but especially in control (again, rejection triad types need to feel in control). Taking care of others creates the illusion of taking care of one's own most vulnerable side, in a way controlling it.

2 strategies are used to face and placate one's own super-ego. According to Naranjo, 5s have a very strong super-ego (again, hypersensitivity + probably because to the super-ego the 5 individual still has "too many needs") so doing good may be a way to satisfy it.

2 strategies are used as a way to feel close to others/satisfy a deep and repressed love need without needing to show their vulnerable side directly, but rather from a position of power

How 5 strategies are used to cope with 2-ish fears:

Helping in a practical and informed way

Repressing own needs and emotions

5 pushes to control oneself, especially one's own needs

5 hypersensitivity probably helps at better recognizing other people's needs

Qualities that 2 brings to 5 (that is, in which ways 2 can help overcoming 5-like challenges):

Availability; does not ignore external expectations and demands as much

Is able to show their warmer and tender side (many 5s feel exposed by doing this), even though this still isn't the same as being vulnerable

Have less of a fear of intimacy, even though it depends on one's health levels (an unhealthy 2 is not really that open to intimacy as it may seem)

Higher Emotional Intelligence

Greater Social and Empathy Skills

More inclined to be more out there than other 5s, and especially is more open when it comes to relationships; less disillusioned, less skeptical, less cynic. more likely to believe that human relationships are indeed worth it. or at least, that's what they may tell themselves.

Challenges that 2 brings to 5:

Again, hiding own needs, vulnerability and failures

Fears disappointing people

May need to feel in control all the time, to the point of exhaustion: 5 already wants to be in control of their own mental states and emotions all the time, 2 adds up other people's ones. Need to unwind, especially mentally

They often feel deeply rejected, may try to deny it

May not be easy to express anger (they may have an 8fix, but its strategies are left last, so 5-2 are more likely to prevail), and for this very reason when they blow up, they blow up hard. Not only do 2-like frustrations make them explode, but 5 also represses their emotions a lot so they may be overwhelming when they finally get to the surface.

[catboymingi]

happily ever after - veninder epilogue

IMPORTANT: i have actually entirely moved blogs over to @mingkiii​ & am only posting this here because i do not know yet if/when i will move veninder over to my new blog. seeing how this is the last chapter and i would have to repost all other ones on a schedule before ever getting to post this i have decided to have this be my final piece of writing on this blog, just so those who did read this multichapter actually get to see the end of it. thank you all for your patience & understanding, & i hope to see you on my new blog as well

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff; best friends to lovers au

word count: 2.7k

warnings: language, some violence, hints at abuse

a/n: we did it lads this is the veninder epilogue and that’s why it’s so short… we reached the end there’s just happiness after this, happiness and maybe a baby or two

jeg ved at det er kærlighed - i know that it’s love

judging by the smile on your faces when you came back to mingi’s place the date had gone well, something that would’ve caused some teasing if you hadn’t taken off to the tall redhead’s room right after. and even though you sometimes went a little strong on the lovey-dovey behaviour the boys were glad to see the way the two of you were interacting. they were glad that you were still going strong after two months, and were glad that you were finally able to express yourself and believe that things wouldn’t be ruined even if there were hard moments and bumps along the way. that was how every relationship went, but mingi treated you the best he could, tried his best to never hurt you if he could avoid it. so your relationship was as perfect as it could be, you were as in love as you could be, and there was only one thing tainting the relationship that left a smile on not only mingi’s and your, but also the boys’ faces - your ex-friends, who still seemed desperate to ruin things for you even though they now had much less options.

the day after your first love confession was another time where they tried to make you feel bad, though their attempts got poorer and poorer with time, something that didn’t leave you any more relaxed because you knew they’d be planning a massive coup sooner or later just to get back at you. you hated to admit it, but it still affected you, their obvious hatred for you. you didn’t understand just what you’d done so wrong to deserve them trying to ruin your entire life - were you really not allowed happiness? had your father been right when he’d taught you to obey and ignore your own wants and needs?

“angel”, mingi disrupted your wandering thoughts during lunch, having noticed that they went in directions they shouldn’t be going. “what’s wrong?”

now eight curious and worried faces were turned towards you, but you just shook your head.

“i don’t want to talk about it.”

they accepted this, especially since you were still in university and you wouldn’t be able to take as much time as you needed if you ended up breaking down now, so they just left you alone about this, instead trying to cheer you up through teasing each other, something that did work, especially when they now, months after the happening, revealed mingi’s common contact name in all their phones to you, the name that hadn’t been changed ever since they first decided that ‘simp’ was fitting.

“hey!”, your boyfriend complained, but you just smiled at him, pressing a lipsticky kiss to his cheek which made him smile like an idiot as well and his friends laugh even harder because he looked like a lipstick advertisement or a vintage valentine’s day card with the lipstick mark right there.

“hold on”, getting out your makeup wipes because it didn’t stay hidden to you why his friends were laughing, and then you cleaned his cheek until the last remnants of your lipstick were gone and mingi was smiling like a much less stereotypically whipped idiot.

“do you want me to come over tonight?”, mingi asked, wanting to have the chance to talk to you by himself without the boys there, and he knew you preferred to have serious conversations at your place just because it felt more private.

you nodded, resting your head on his shoulder after, and you wished you could just stay like this, but sadly you had one more class to visit, something you did reluctantly, and it was only okay because mingi brought you there and kissed you goodbye and now had slightly red lips as well, an absolutely adorable sight that made you forget about your worries for a moment.

your worries returned soon after, though, when you sat in class and knew that if something happened you’d have to deal with it by yourself, even though nothing happened today. the anxiety was still there, and it made it hard for you to stay concentrated, and this was obvious to mingi when he picked you up after class.

“let’s go home, angel” was the first thing he’d said after he’d said hello to you, noticing how your expression didn’t light up the way it usually did around him, a half-assed smile the most he could get from you.

he held your hand but didn’t say much on the way, knowing that you’d probably prefer to be home before your anxiety came crashing down on you, so he just tried to show you that he was there physically, through squeezing your hand or rubbing small circles next to your thumb with his thumb. he wanted you to know that he was there, and you knew he was, grateful but not much less anxious.

“what’s wrong?”, he asked as soon as you were in your dorm and had taken your shoes off, but you didn’t want to speak yet, you wanted a hug, something he’d gladly provide.

“i’m just anxious”, you told him, removing your face from his shirt soon after because you realised that you’d be leaving makeup stains if you weren’t careful.

“scared that they’ll somehow manage to ruin things anyway. i don’t know what to expect from them but i know it’s nothing good.”

“i get it”, his arms still around you, holding you tightly to ground you a little.

“but i’m here. even if it won’t stop them, at least you won’t be alone.”

you wished this would have calmed you more, but it didn’t. you feared the worst from them because so far all their plans had gone wrong, and you knew they could be desperate and absolutely ruthless when they were desperate, and you really didn’t like knowing that you were their current favourite victim.

“what if it gets too much? i don’t know, if they hurt you or something. i couldn’t stand myself if they hurt you.”

he just held you even closer because he didn’t have anything good to say to that. he could understand it - the thought of you getting hurt because of him was enough to make him want to cry right there, and he knew that if anything happened to him you’d feel like it was your fault.

“we’ll be okay, angel. i love you and that’s most important to me right now”, rubbing your back in an attempt to prevent the tears he could hear in your voice from falling, or to calm you if they did.

“can i take a shower? i don’t want to leave you here by yourself but i think it’d help”, you asked, and “of course” he replied, because if it helped then he’d let you do pretty much whatever.

“i’ll wait here”, and he did, waited for you to come back, you wearing the tie dye shirt you’d gotten from him and shorts or no shorts, the world may never know, and had a towel turban on your head.

“i love you too”, you told him first thing as soon as you were nestled in his arms, because you’d neglected saying that when you’d left him to shower, and even though you felt shy saying it it was more important to you that he knew how you felt than it was that you weren’t embarrassed because you talked about your feelings.

“thank you”, kissing the towel turban and your forehead, smiling at your small cuddly form in his arms - you looked so sweet right now, mingi felt a deep need to protect you, and he would. he’d do all he could.

//

the more time passed the stronger your anxiety got, and the more mingi wished he had a way to solve this for you because it hurt him to see you like this. he wasn’t the only one, either, the boys talking more than once about how they’d be able to get this situation sorted. but they never were able to come up with anything, because there wasn’t really anything to do - talking wouldn’t help, this much was obvious, and they weren’t the type to be violent if it wasn’t absolutely needed, like that time san had needed to protect you.

it was fate that gave them a solution, fate and your ex-friends being so desperate to make you pay that they turned to violence when your current friends had refrained from that the entire time. they really did seem desperate, because one time after your class, during lunch break, they cornered you, stared you down and snarled at you.

“where’s your little bodyguard now?”, knowing that mingi wasn’t there right now, that wednesdays was the day you’d meet at lunch because he’d be late to pick you up anyway due to his class being at a whole different end of the building.

and you were panicked, but part of you was relieved. they’d beat you up and hopefully they’d leave you alone later, now that you’d gotten your punishment for daring to question their authority, and a beating wasn’t something you couldn’t take. it wasn’t like you could do anything, anyway, your body in freeze mode as it awaited the pain it knew was to come.

but your little bodyguard had been looking for you with his friends when you weren’t at the table yet when he arrived, and your little bodyguard wasn’t stupid, so he went to your classroom first, checking the nearby area to see if you were there. he found you, covering your face but making no other effort to defend yourself as you were kicked in the legs and hit in the stomach, still standing so it couldn’t have gone on for too long. and while he saw red that moment yeosang managed to remain cool enough to get out his phone and film the scene, knowing that the boys would protect you, and knowing that this would finally give you an opportunity to have your peace. so he filmed the situation, even though he wanted nothing more than to protect you, too, but logic told him that this would protect you more long-term.

so he filmed the boys pulling your ex-friends away, filmed them saying that you deserved it, and first turned the recording off when some other student had gotten a teacher because mingi had to be held back by three of his friends or he would’ve ignored his resolution to never hurt those weaker than him, because they’d been the ones to hurt you first.

yeosang was the one to show the video to the teacher, then later to some kind of university council that ended up getting the girls expelled, and to the police, too, because there was no way these girls would get away without legal prosecution.

and even though the situation had been horrible and even though your boyfriend had refused to let you go for more than a shower or your trips to the toilet this situation finally brought you the peace you’d desired, and mingi swore he’d marry yeosang if he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with you.

you finally got rid of your anxiety along with your tormentors, and you truly thrived now that you no longer feared them. your friends had never seen you happier, and you soon found yourself new acquaintances, too, people to spend time with so you wouldn’t feel like you’d stolen mingi’s friends, though neither he nor the boys would ever complain about that - they loved you too much and were glad about any second you spent with them.

you thrived in your studies, too - mingi continued taking the follow-up sociolinguistics courses with you and somehow made it fit with his schedule, and he bribed you into taking a course in whatever the bigger field of probability was called with him just because it fit with your schedule and he loved you so much and because, as he framed it, “it’s not fair that i’m dealing with all the lects and you’re not even dealing with a small number, not even a tiny one”. and because you loved him so much you couldn’t say no to him, so you found yourself taking an extra maths course the rest of your four semesters at university, which you somehow managed to stay with mingi and as in love as you were in the beginning, though by now the homely comfort had set in. he’d moved out of the boys’ common dorm and in with you about a year into your relationship, during the big summer semester break, though that didn’t mean the boys spent any less time with you - pyjama parties were still a frequent happening, and one that brought joy to all of you.

there was one thing that would bring even more joy to mingi, though, a thing he’d asked the boys to help him prepare, something that he hoped you’d appreciate as much as he appreciated you.

//

you were dyeing his hair again - he’d tried different colours by now, motivated by you, but he wanted to go back to his red roots for graduation, and you agreed, using up some of the red dye he still had from your last split-dye adventure, when your fingers touched something that you didn’t expect to be there.

“there’s something here, hold on”, you let him know, taking out the little object and planning to just put it to the side until you saw his expression and the small, round ring shape, at which point it slowly dawned on you just what he’d planned to do. so instead of ignoring the little object you went to carefully rinse it, seeing a small plastic ring that you knew couldn’t have been expensive but that you were glad hadn’t been expensive because it would inevitably be coloured red from now on, and when you turned back to mingi and his half-dyed head he was on one knee, holding out his hands to grab your dye-covered, plastic glove-clad ones, not caring about the splotches it would leave on his skin. not when you were right there.

“mingi?”, you asked when he didn’t seem to want to talk, and first then did it seem like he was returning to reality, no longer caught up in his own fears and insecurities.

“this is probably a horrible moment”, he started, smiling awkwardly at you, “but we did this for our first date and that’s why i wanted red, too, like on our first date just roles reversed. and i just wanted to remember how giddy and excited i felt when you let me take you out on a date, even when it was just dyeing your hair, and i still kind of feel that way even though now it’s like, logical considering what i want to do, but i wanted you to remember that first date and how comfortable and right everything felt right from the start, at least for me. and then, when you remember that, i want you to see how far we’ve come and i want you to know that no matter what you say it won’t set us back, okay?”, waiting for you to nod as you bit your lip nervously, awaiting the words you knew were to come sooner or later, though as you knew mingi later rather than sooner, “and i want you to know that i love you so endlessly much, so much that i always want to be with you, and i want to make it really official and i want to promise you my everything and that’s why i want to ask you if you’d marry me. will you marry me, angel?”

that was sooner than expected. it took you a little by surprise, even though you’d already known what to expect when you’d seen him kneel like that, so you found yourself unable to speak, nodding instead, nodding until your voice finally left you able to choke out a “yes” before you fully regained your senses and told him, this time sounding much more certain, “yes, i will.”

and then he got up to kiss you, the dye in his hair momentarily forgotten, some of it making its way to your face as he cupped it and you accidentally resuming your dyeing ministrations as you buried your hands in his hair, and things felt perfect, just like they’d continue to be when it came to the two of you.

and you finally got your happy ending, your happily ever after.

[nyctolovian]

Chapter 16: easy being nice to a bitter boy like him

Welp! I just thought it’d be cool if I posted fic on my birthday. So here’s a milestone chapter of sorts haha

Summary: Shouto's doubts grow

Chapter 1

Bakugou woke up incredibly cranky, even by his usual standards. Shouto was made aware of this by the colourful swearing Bakugou let out when he stubbed his toe on the foot of the bed in the morning. This was followed by a loud slam of the door as Bakugou exited the room to head to the shared toilets. 

The two headed to the dormitory’s cafeteria for breakfast (a sandwich, yoghurt and a chocolate-y drink called Milo). The sort of silence they had, which would usually be calm, was now stiff, like Bakugou was looking for the next thing to metaphorically or physically blow up. Shouto didn’t quite want to stand in the way of that.

Then, as they stood at the pickup point, waiting for Preeta to pick them up, Shouto finally asked, “Is something bothering you?” 

Bakugou let out a gruff “nah”.

That was a lie and Shouto could smell from a mile away. He frowned at Bakugou in deep thought. However, before he could ask another question, Preeta’s yellow car drove into the pickup stop. Hesitantly, Shouto dropped the subject when he and Bakugou got in the car and Preeta greeted them with a wide, sunny smile. "Are you ready for Day 1 of hero-ing Singaporean style?"

Shouto nodded nervously while Bakugou let out a hum that wasn't quite in assent or disagreement. 

"Tough crowd," she huffed out, curling her fingers around the steering wheel. "No worries. You're gonna have a blast at my office, I assure you."

As they travelled, the supervisor gave a quick rundown of what interning under her would entail. Preeta and Co. Hero Offices was located on an entire floor in one of the many office buildings in the central business district. Preeta explained, "We mostly deal with combat situations within that area. It's a hotspot for villains that really want to wreck things big time."

As they drove into the district, Shouto spotted countless skyscrapers and interesting sculptures around. He had heard that there were many important expensive buildings in the area so property damage was apparently a big deal as well. He was slightly worried by this. If there was one thing about their fighting styles that Shouto could call a similarity, it might possibly be the destruction. He and Bakugou didn't exactly have the best track record for keeping fights in their lanes after all.

Soon, Preeta parked in the underground carpark of a fairly unremarkable office building and took a lift from the car park up to the office. As soon as the lift slid open to their destination, they were greeted with a frenzied girl rushing towards them. "Oh my god!" She side-stepped, letting them out. "New interns?" she asked in English, brushing her messy blue hair behind her ear. 

"Yeah," Preeta replied. She glanced at the folders the girl was clutching as she darted into the elevator and slammed her thumb into the button. "Documents for HeroTech again?"

"Yah lah!" she whined, pulling a face of agony. "Who else?" 

Preeta rolled her eyes at the closing lift doors. "That's Charlene by the way. You'll talk to her a lot in the future."

Shouto glanced back at the closed doors. He barely remembered what she looked like already. Sometimes he wished he had better facial recognition skills. Also, Shouto was about 75% certain that was her first name. This felt wildly different from what he is used to… 

Bakugou nudged his back, bringing his attention back to their supervisor, who had already walked past the empty reception desk. She pressed her finger on a scanner to unlock the door that led to an open plan office.

It was chaotic with people discussing things or typing away at their computers. Some of them were in office wear, some in casual clothes, and others in their hero costumes. With a quick glance around the room, Shouto estimated a head count of about 15 other people.

"Attention!" Preeta's voice boomed across the room, capturing the attention of everyone. "We have two new interns, Bakugou Katsuki and Todoroki Shouto from UA, Japan. They'll be with us for three months." She gave them both a look and made a sweeping motion, urging them to introduce themselves. 

Shouto tried his best to articulate himself in the foreign language, "Hello. My name is Todoroki Shouto. I am 17 years old. Um… My quirk is um…" He held his palms up and simultaneously created a flame and a shard of ice. "My hero name is Shouto. Nice to meet you."

Someone started clapping and the others followed suit. Shouto stiffly nodded and pursed his lips.

Next was Bakugou. "I'm Bakugou Katsuki. 18 years old. My quirk is Explosion and my hero name is DynaMight. I'll be the Number One Top Hero."

Shouto narrowed his eyes at him. Did he really need to say that?

Bakugou's eyes made contact with his for a while before he added somewhat reluctantly, "Nice to meet you."

His greeting was also met with an applause and a short hoot. Meanwhile, Preeta grinned at him and said, "Someone's got more guts than I thought! I like that!" She glanced around the room and said, "Everyone except Charlene is here."

Someone from the corner confirmed that statement. 

"Ok! Good! Saves time!" she said, clapping her hands together. "Introduce yourselves as well!"

One by one, the others introduced themselves with their names, positions, and their quirks. Some added special information about themselves and cracked a few jokes that garnered some chuckles in the office. However, between trying to get used to English comprehension, the unusual names and many different information, Shouto's head was swirling. Names and faces seemed to seep out of his brain as the introductions continued.

By the time Preeta smiled down at the two new interns and suggested introducing them to the office facilities, Shouto had already forgotten everyone's names. 

Still, he silently followed Preeta as she told them where the pantry, toilets, sick bay, function rooms and her private office were. Then, they walked around the already chattering employees to a steel door behind the large table. There was another fingerprint scanner that Preeta used. "We'll have to get your prints later. This stuff is just a safety precaution. Hero work can get pretty sensitive. Plus, we have expensive equipment." She swung open the door to the most spacious room yet – the training gym. 

With its light blue walls, the room looked more vibrant than the rest of the office. Natural light also streamed in from its wide windows, which displayed a view of the city skyline, like a reminder of why they do their work. The equipment, while not as grand as Endeavor Hero Agency’s, was still not to be sneezed at, from its high-tech temperature-regulators to an obstacle course with elements customisable to one’s training needs. There was a large first-aid kit and defibrillator beside the benches and a fire extinguisher fixed upon each corner of the room. 

"This is where you will likely begin and end your day. Warm-up in the morning, and self-training in the evening." Preeta smiled as she pointed to a door with her thumb. "The lockers are just over there. Now, get into hero mode, chop chop! I want to see what the two of you can offer on the field."

***

There was a wide grin on Preeta's face when the boys were done showcasing what they could do. "Not bad! Not bad at all!" she said, clapping her hands in appreciation. "We will be working together just fine, I think."

"How about you show us what you've got?" Bakugou said, crossing his arms. He lifted an eyebrow at her challengingly. "Would like to see how *you* fare on the field."

Of course, Bakugou would do something abrasive at some point. Truthfully, however, Shouto would say he was expecting this side of Bakugou to show much earlier. Perhaps that was a testament to what a strange mood Bakugou has been in since this morning.

Luckily, Preeta didn't seem to take any offense in his tone. She just threw her head back and laughed boisterously. "Of course!" she said. She pulled her hair back and her nimble fingers secured the dark red locks in a tight bun. With her originally mid-back length hair tied up, Shouto could see an intriguing feature of her costume. 

It was already fairly interesting when she first stepped out from the locker room, changed into her hero attire. Despite her extremely colourful casual outfits, her hero costume was entirely black. She wore black boots, a black jacket, a black pair of pants, and a black undershirt. The only thing that stood out at first were the big black bracelets that resembled Uraraka's. On her back was a metal fixture with six cylindrical tubes sticking out behind her, and behind those tubes was her bare brown skin. 

Shouto found this all very curious. This costume must have been designed like this to serve a purpose… but what was it?

As though she read his mind, Preeta said, "How about a little quiz for you two?" She stabbed her hair with several more bobby pins. "Take a guess what my quirk is exactly."

Bakugou made no reaction and Shouto just nodded quietly. 

Taking in a deep breath, Preeta swung her arms. Then, she spread them out and leapt to the air. There was a gust of hot air that pushed Shouto and Bakugou back slightly.

They straightened back up to see Preeta shooting upwards like a rocket. Her muscled arms swung forward to grab a slab of metal that hung from above. As soon as she made contact with it, the metal bent to fit the shape of her hands, glowing red-hot. With the momentum, she swung forward and landed with a roll on a lower hanging platform. The spot on the metal that she had grabbed had the marks of her fingers and no longer looked molten. Shouto's eyes widened in intrigue and Bakugou let out a short hum.

Preeta was on her feet before their focus could return to her and, when they did, she was bounding to the other end of the suspended platform. She grabbed a wooden block from a stack at the side and drew her hand back.

The wood burst into flames and she hurled it across the gym, and accurately into a pail of water. Nodding, she leapt off the platform and grabbed onto a pole near the walls and slid down quickly with one arm. 

When she was on the floor again, she flashed the two a grin. "That's the gist of what I can do. My abilities are most practical in a real-life scenario to be honest. So," she folded her hands in front of her chest, "take a guess what my quirk is."

"It's heat-related," Shouto mumbled to himself.

"That's a given in my office."

Meanwhile, Bakugou narrowed his eyes. "Is…"

Shouto's eyes followed his gaze to the coated metal pole. He frowned. There were water droplets forming upon it. He took a step closer to it and placed his hand on the pole. "It's cold." Shouto's eyes widened. "Is it like mine?"

"No, not really. I can't just create fire and ice like you."

Bakugou grinned triumphantly. "So it's some heat transfer thing."

"Impressive," Preeta commended. "What else can you tell me about my quirk then?"

"It relies on contact?" Shouto suggested.

"Yes, and...?" 

Shouto frowned in thought, as did Bakugou. Bakugou hazard a guess, "Do you store the heat in your body?"

"Nope," she said. "It's all stored in these babies." She tapped the cylindrical bracelets on her wrists against each other. "Insulate against the external climate but in direct contact with my skin."

Curious, Shouto asked, "But how did you shoot through the air?"

"Rapid gas expansion in the cylindrical structures on my back," Preeta explained.

Wide-eyed, Shouto nodded. Bakugou's air of skepticism was also lifted as he looked at Preeta in silent admiration. 

"You two are pretty impressive, I must say," Preeta said. "UA really is UA, huh?"

“Preetaaa!” someone interrupted with a sing-song voice. A familiar blue-haired lady popped in. 

Shouto was mildly surprised to find himself recognising her as Charlene from the elevator. 

Looking towards the entrance, Preeta shouted back, "Yah?"

“Your darling is here!”

Preeta turned to goo as she laughed nervously. "Oh my god," she said. "I just– Well, you two–" She buried her face in her hands for a second as she let out a groan. "Just… stay here. I'll be right back." She made a beeline for the exit and stopped in her tracks right outside the gym. Her face broke into a smile. Preeta's hands were even more animated than before as she began to talk to a rather plump lady just beyond the entrance. The lady's back was towards them but Shouto could spot her handing a small tin box to Preeta, who smiled apologetically. It looked like a bento.

Shouto found his eyes sliding towards Bakugou. “What are they saying?” he asked as he peered towards Charlene.

“Harh? How the hell would I know?”

“Aren’t you always eavesdropping others’ conversations?”

Sighing, Bakugou shot him a glare. “Don’t say that as if I hear your stupid-ass conversations on purpose.”

“Do you not?” he teased.

Bakugou shoved him. “Die, asshole,” he said, rolling his eyes. The exasperated fondness did not escape Shouto's notice.

“Hey, hey,” Charlene interrupted. “I may not understand Japanese but I know fighting when I hear it.”

“Ah,” Shouto replied in English, as he raised his hand up in refutation. “It’s okay. That’s… um… just the way he usually is.”

Bakugou jabbed Shouto’s side harshly, drawing a yelp out of him. “You’re un-fucking-believable."

“Are your interns arguing already? On the first day?” the lady Preeta was speaking to said as she spun around to look at the commotion.

Shouto froze.

The skin of her face had a familiar leathery and discoloured quality to it. Her face was of a darker shade compared to the rest of her body, which was pale. And Shouto found his fingers tracing the scar on his own face.

Those were burn scars. But unlike his, it stretched over her entire face.

“They’re not fighting, they said,” Charlene replied, pulling Shouto back from his dazed state.

“I hope not." Preeta peered back into the gym. When it didn't seem like they were ready to murder each other, she said, "Love, do you want to meet the new interns?"

The scarred woman exclaimed, “Okay!" She walked swiftly into the gym in her high heels, Preeta following close behind. “I’m Kaiqi. Preeta’s girlfriend.”

Bakugou stepped in front of Shouto, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. “I’m Bakugou Katsuki. And he is Todoroki Shouto. We’re both from UA in Japan.”

"Nice to meet the both of you. I hope you'll have an amazing time in Singapore. Even though it's an internship, I think it'd be good to have some fun," she said. 

Now that she was closer, Shouto could see the burn scars better now. Such as the way her smile was a little lopsided from the odd swelling in her face. She didn't have any eyebrows or eyelashes either. 

The only burn victims Shouto knew were himself and his father. However, while both of their scars were on their face, neither of them had burns as severe as hers, and not over as large an area. He couldn't help but wonder: how did she get those burn scars?

Preeta’s face twisted as though her foot had been stepped on. At that, Kaiqi rested her hand on her girlfriend’s elbow and asked, “What did he say?”

That was when Shouto realised he had spoken aloud. He blinked in shock. Bakugou spun around, staring, and mouthed, "Idiot."

It looked like pulling teeth as Preeta translated what he said into English.

Shouto felt a surge of shame as he apologised for the question. 

"It's fine," Kaiqi said, waving her hand. "I get asked about it quite often anyway. It was during a scuffle with a small-time criminal I was chasing after. He overloaded my quirk, which stores heat in my hair, and just caused it to catch fire."

"You're a hero?" Shouto asked.

Laughing, she said, "Used to be but not anymore. I've essentially lost my quirk." She pulled her bangs up to reveal that it was a wig.

His eyes widened. "Oh. I-I'm sorry."

"It's alright, really. You learn to live with things, right?" she said, directing a kind smile at Shouto. "It's been more than 10 years now so I'm fine!" She flexed her arm with a grin.

The dark look on Preeta's face, however, said otherwise. But Shouto dared not press this any further.

***

The rest of the day was taxing. Between figuring out their patrol route, struggling with names, and fumbling through hero equipment, Shouto was drained by the end of the day.

It really didn't help though that the mood had seemingly soured. Preeta wasn't as bright and bubbly as she was in the morning. That wasn't to say that she was gloomy because she still tried her best to ensure the atmosphere was never too heavy. But it was clear something was weighing upon her, and it obviously had to do with whatever happened during Kaiqi's quick visit.

That, however, wasn't the most frustrating part; it was Bakugou's sour mood. He was a little grumpy in the morning, and then it got better with time, even joking around in the gym. Yet, suddenly, he was brooding again, and Shouto hadn't a clue what he should do.

Even as the day ended and Preeta sent them back to the dormitories, Shouto still couldn't figure out what had gotten him in this mood or what he should do.

Discreetly, he slid his phone out of his pocket and texted the first person he could think of for help. He was waiting for a reply when the car pulled over.

"Alright! We're here!" Preeta said, smiling back at them. "Rest up. It's been a tiring day but we've got more to do tomorrow!"

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgement as he got out of the car.

"Thank you for today," Shouto said as he slid out after Bakugou.

"No problem!" Preeta returned. "Goodbye, kids!"

The two boys waved before closing the car door and watching it drive off. When Shouto turned around, Bakugou was already walking back into the dorm compounds. 

Shouto was about to follow after when he felt a vibration in his pocket. He took a look at his phone.

Izuku: good morning!!! (Or evening?)

Izuku: but oh no that doesn't sound good :(

Izuku: i honestly think u should talk to kacchan properly

Izuku: leaving kacchan with his thoughts isnt exactly the best idea 

Izuku: maybe talk to him 

Shouto: … I think you're right

Izuku: (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Shouto nodded to himself. Izuku had experienced first-hand what it was like to deal with a Bakugou who has been left with his own negative thoughts for too long. So Shouto trusted his friend's advice on this topic. He was about to put his phone away when another message came in.

Izuku: its really nice that u r his boyfriend now! i think sometimes he forgets its okay to ask for help and that he doesnt need to deal with stuff alone. plus i can tell he listens to what u say

Izuku: love really changes a person hehe

Izuku: not in a bad way!!

It was as though a lead ball was launched straight at Shouto's stomach. 

There was still the issue that he had to confess that he didn't reciprocate Bakugou's romantic love for him. The day had been so hectic and he had forgotten all about that.

And this conversation with Izuku drove home another problem: when he and Bakugou do break up, how would he explain to his family and Izuku that the relationship they had been overjoyed about not too long ago had just ended?

Shouto felt his lip begin to tremble. He wouldn't know how to face them to be honest. It seems like such a jerk move to have dated someone for more than half a year, only to tell them that he didn't feel any romantic love.

Wouldn't it have been much simpler if he had said that he didn't feel anything romantic for Bakugou from the start? Either they don't start dating or they enter the relationship knowing exactly what they were both in for. Not this… unstable form of a relationship.

What Bakugou needed was something firm he could lean on. Not this… mess of a person who fumbled around with his feelings like an idiot. 

"Oi."

Shouto's head shot up to find red orbs staring into him. 

"You coming?"

"Y-yeah," Shouto muttered, climbing the flight of stairs to the boyfriend whom he simultaneously wanted to embrace and tear himself away from.

[mlpdestinyverse]

“One November Eve”

One stormy eve, when Dream Flow mysteriously doesn't show for their meet up, Skychaser heads to his friend's home to find out what's keeping her. What he discovers isn't quite what he expected.

Feat. Skychaser, Dreamaria Flow

Related Chapters: Little Monster, Newcomer, Impasse

~Destinyverse Archive~

Skychaser isn't usually one to fuss when it comes to Dream Flow's occasional tendency to arrive late to their hangouts.

He's long accepted it as an on-and-off habit of hers, oversleeping or losing track of time. It's not like they've ever been in a rush, so it's never truly bothered him. Besides, it's easy to imagine her getting caught up in a busy, tiring schedule as an Emotion Counselor.

The latest he can remember her ever arriving was about thirty minutes past their designated time, and even then she came to him apologizing profusely before insisting on treating him to make up for the tardiness. He can tell that she's since made a more conscious effort to be more punctual, despite his assurance that he really doesn't mind.

An hour and twenty-two minutes late...now that's just plain out of character.

It's nearing 6 PM now, and it won't be long before they'll have to officially reschedule their sauna day for another time. Sky is still sitting at a cafe table, tapping his hoof against the wooden surface, the vibrations causing his long empty cup of mint chocolate chip ice cream to shake. 

He'd been looking forward to relaxing within the embrace of hot steam on a chilly autumn day. More so than that was his eagerness to behold Dream's first heavenly sauna experience, as a mare who apparently had never even known of their existence until a week ago. She had mirrored his excitement, giving him a date where she'd be completely free. But that's all quickly becoming rather trivial compared to his growing bewilderment.

'Did she go on a last-minute errand run?? What is going on?'

It's only when a large droplet of rain nearly jabs his eye that he knows that the fall thunderstorm Ponyville ordered for the sake of building atmosphere towards Nightmare Night has begun. And it's at that moment that Sky knows he has a time limit before the rain starts pouring. So with a frown, he swiftly makes his way to a new location...

By the time he's in front of the door to Dream's house, the boughs of leafless trees have begun groaning and Sky's thick mane might as well be mauling his face, thanks to the whipping winds. Honestly, if it wasn't for the sheer absurdity that was the concept of being "stood up" by Dream of all ponies, he would have thought to arrive sooner to check on his friend. But looking at the house, the windows are completely absent of any light, and that becomes even more prominent with the darkening grey sky above him as the sun dips away and the clouds prepare to-

-drench him. Just...all at once. A waterfall-like sheet of rain crashes onto him, and he hisses a curse as he instinctively tries for the doorknob, despite knowing it won't open.

Except it does, and Skychaser has to blink a few times at that.

'Guess she went out and...forgot to lock it behind her...?'

A flash of lightning and Sky all but scrambles inside and shuts the door before the accompanying boom of thunder can deafen him.

As he enters the threshold, and his eyes adjust to the brief lightning flash followed by the interior darkness, he almost swears a separate faint light catches the edge of his vision. But it's gone before he can fully acknowledge it, and it leaves his mind as soon as he winces at the booming thunderclap.

"Hokay then..." Sky mutters. He shrugs off his hoodie and hangs it on the nearby coat rack. Having visited Dream's house numerous times before, finding and flicking on the closest light switch isn't too difficult. The warm lighting reveals the large, decently furnished living room he's grown quite accustomed to, as a place to spend time with his friend as well as a safe space for a few of their counseling sessions together: television and couch set up to the left, first-floor bathroom to the right, her open kitchen towards the very back, next to the polished curving staircase... "Wait for Dreamers it is..."

At least, he hopes Dream isn't still trying to make it to their sauna day. Once she realizes he's not at their meeting spot, she'll either look for him at the Cutie Mark Sanctuary if only to frantically apologize like the sweet doof she is, or she'll make the better call and head back home in this weather.

Unless she's forgotten their plans entirely. Then well...at the very least, she'll absolutely return straight home and they'll figure it out from there.

'Unless...an emergency...?'

Sky vigorously shakes the worrisome thought out of his head, only to flinch and curse again when water droplets fly everywhere and cling to the nearby wall. This isn't the time to go into Anxious-Brother-Mode™ when he should be hunting down a towel unless he wants to create a puddle in the middle of Dream's living roo- oh, a puddle's already forming, goddammit.

He carefully maneuvers himself towards Dream's towel closet on the right-most wall, right beside her bathroom door. But he sighs and gives up midway on tip-toeing when he realizes he's leaving a trail of rainwater anyway, making a faster beeline for it. Without pause he yanks it open and pulls out a fluffy towel with cute little sea motifs, aggressively drying his cursed sponge-like mop of hair; the true perpetrator of the puddles...a symbol of freedom and majesty now fallen from grace. For shame.

He sighs with relief once he feels sufficiently...less wet, albeit his feathers are sticking in almost every direction and his inner pegasus shrieks at him to preen- which, speaking of, is it weird to preen in your friend's house when they're not there?

Shower Thoughts with Skychaser.

Sky lets the towel hang around his neck and grins to himself over his dumb mental joke- but upon closing the closet door fully, something he hadn't noticed before immediately greets him.

A single orange sticky note, attached to the door at eye level.

He's genuinely confused at first, but once his eyes flit over the words written on it in black marker, he near-instantly recalls the counseling session he'd shared with Dream not even a month ago. In this very living room, funnily enough:

"Sticky Note Affirmations" she had called it, suggesting it to him like many other forms of therapy they've given a go through the course of their friendship. He remembers her explaining it as a method of using positive affirmations in one's daily life, to "move the mind away from persistent negative thoughts" and "set in a more positive way of thinking".

"Positivity takes practice!" he can practically still hear the confidence in Dreamaria's voice from that day, her beaming face forming in his mind. "We may be our own worst critic, Sky, but we're also the one person in life who can be our most faithful supporter. So try cheering your future self on!"

It sounded a little silly at first, the idea of sticking notes around his room and expecting them to do anything. Dream Flow did say the results varied for everyone.

Now, Sky has a small collection of post-it notes that have given him just the slightest boost needed to help deviate that self-deprecating corner of his mind; more often than not, at least. Who knew that reading something as simple as "I Am Worthy" on his bedroom door every morning could make a difference in his outlook for the day? He sure didn't.

But maybe Dream being the source of the idea made her feel a little present within each of his notes, believing in him just as much as he was encouraging himself.

Dream specifically offered the idea of writing down kind compliments for himself. There were also reminders and encouragements for daily tasks, saved for the heavier days where such chores often felt impossible or pointless. Now one particular note near his comb encourages him to brush his mane each day because otherwise, he'll deal with knots that resemble a pile of tangled earbud cords - or worst...Astral Dusk's spikes - and risk shaving it all off in frustration (Monochrome would have a field day).

Anyway, that aside, the note on Dream's towel closet reminds him of that sort of encouragement:

"Because a hot shower organizes thoughts and helps warm the soul!" it motivates, in curvy writing that he definitely recognizes as Dream's.

It shouldn't be a surprise that Dreamaria would practice her own suggestions, maybe to test the effectiveness for herself; but at the same time, how effective could testing it be? In his friend's case it felt hilariously redundant, like a mere flashlight's beam merging in with an already blinding sunray of optimism. Or...something. He's not as poetic with words and comparisons as Eventide.

Point is, the living embodiment of positivity just setting up more positive inspiration for her "future self" is incredibly funny to him and wholesomely endearing.

Skychaser backs his way into the middle of her living room, bumping up near Dream's couch there, and gives the room a good squint - and to his delight, his eye catches the pastel colors of more sticky notes dotting the mare's kitchen.

Well, at least he has something to distract himself with while he waits on Dream Flow. And if there's anypony he'd love to read some encouraging wisdom from, it'd have to be the counselor herself.

So he starts at one end and slowly saunters through her kitchen space, from one note to the next, feeling his grin and amusement growing with each one.

"Because an uncluttered sink helps with an uncluttered mind!" a pink note above her sink declares, where a few glasses and plates have been left to sit.

"Use me! Because you've come so far as a cook, and I exist for a reason!" the green note on her spotless stovetop-oven all but shouts.

"Because your body deserves nourishment, and Uncle wants you to eat well. Don't forget to keep a full fridge!" one blue sticky note insists on her refrigerator. Skychaser slyly opens the freezer door to better gauge the sorts of things his friend prefers to indulge in, for the noble cause of future birthday bashes (he genuinely half expects a compartment full of ice cream). His eyebrows fly up when he sees it's empty besides a tray of ice cubes.

'She REALLY must have gone out for some serious grocery shopping, geez...'

Now that he thinks about it, it's curious, really. Because while Dream's session on the notes had been held a month ago, Skychaser had visited just a week before and he's certain these little reminders hadn't been present that day. But the folded corners and slight creases on the notes suggest that they aren't recent either...?

Huh. Weird.

Sky hears the rain audibly thrum harder on the roof. He glances at the door, then at the time on her microwave.

6:42. Still no Dreamaria.

Hooves clacking across the tiles, Skychaser turns to leave the kitchen. In an effort to set aside his uncertainty, he considers what distractions he could find on Dream's T.V. That is until he finds himself pausing by the kitchen island.

Skychaser now notices that amongst a clutter of unopened mail envelopes, a single letter has been left out. Were it not for the rather official-looking white and blue mailer with a broken gold wax seal, or the fancy thick yellow parchment of the letter itself, Skychaser would have overlooked it.

He fights with himself, eyes flicking back and forth between the rest of the living room and the strange letter just...laying there.

...his need for answers wins over. Because surely a small glimpse and the quickest skim just to understand the subject of such an out-of-place letter couldn't hurt. It just may be the very clue he's been seeking as to the whereabouts of his friend.

'An emergency', his mind supplies nervously again, the feeling intensifying when he picks out on the envelope's face that the mailing address is from Reinsford; Dreamaria's hometown.

'Yeah, that's not comforting...'

So sure enough, he sets his now-folded towel onto the counter and leans over the parchment, giving the sentences a quick once-over. He searches for names, keywords, the last line of the letter-

He stops.

He reads the last line again. Then a third time, his eyes widening with each reread.

'Hold the fuck on, am I-?'

Sky swoops the letter up into his wings. He squints harder, darting his orange irises back to the beginning. Because maybe context would confirm whether he's crazy or he just read what he thinks he just read.

"Dear Madam Dreamaria Flow,

I hope this package and its contents have found you in good health. 

It has been a lengthy two years since your departure from our beloved coasts. Your absence has been profoundly felt by your fellow residents and myself, even to this very day.

While I would not dare to take up more of your time than necessary, I first wish to extend my deepest apologies for not reaching out to you sooner. Your uncle has shared a tale or two of your exploits in Ponyville, and though I am sure you have found success and a great sense of fulfillment in your new career - a hearty congratulations to you, may I add! - I have felt that a hefty debt was left unpaid the day you left this town.

It is only right that I follow through on my word. It took some time, but after vowing to properly reward you for your unforgettable deed, I am happy to announce that I have made great use of my authority to finally deliver:"

Halfway through the letter, the storm outside gives another bright flash of lightning, followed seconds later by a booming crack of thunder that almost shakes the air. A barely present corner of his mind registers something...slightly different about it; like a subtle sparking undercurrent of sound had joined in for just a second. But right now he's focused on this letter, too immersed in speed-reading the sentences to consider it as anything but a one-off:

"Enclosed is your very own Reinsford-sanctioned Certification of Arcane Excellence. Please do brandish this certificate with pride as a prior member of Reinsford's community. I believe such high credentials could prove useful and bode well if presented and proven to Princess Twilight Sparkle herself.

While losing someone as gifted and valuable as yourself thoroughly saddens us, we are quite pleased knowing our talented Dreamaria is still putting her skills to good use.

Remember that this town will always be your home. It has been far too long since we have last seen you. Never hesitate to visit, and if anything goes wrong, know that we will gladly welcome you back with open arms."

And then finally, he reaches that line again. Except he isn't sure if context has at all changed the amount of bewilderment and awe his discovery has brought him.

"Nonetheless, Reinsford will continue to miss its - official, as of this letter - dear Wizard, and its citizens whole-heartedly wish you well with your personal endeavors.

With gratitude, Mayor Bight"

A thunderclap of merciless lightning shatters the sky, and in that very instant, darkness falls around him.

The blackout startles Skychaser enough that he drops the letter and braces against the kitchen island with a soft yelp. He's thankful that the nearby streetlamp is managing to stream in just enough light through the windows to allow him the vaguest visual of his surroundings; shapes and desaturated colors and shadows, more than anything.

But now there is an eerie, deafening silence, with the background whirring of every appliance coming to a complete hush. The rain, the slightest shifts of his body, and his breath are suddenly much louder, almost reverberating through the room.

Whatever sense of confusion and wonder over Dream's letter has momentarily fizzled out, replaced by goosebumps and an immense sense of vulnerability. He feels small and uneasy - a single breathing body in an expanse of black and greys.

'Maybe I've uh...outstayed my welcome... If preening in your friend's empty house is weird, standing around for them in the darkness of their home may deserve a restraining order.'

He'll just have to table his questions and intrigue for another day, as exasperating as it is to have even fewer answers now than before.

For the sake of his boggled mind, he settles that Dream is out shopping. Or doing awesome-secret-wizard-shit, if this letter and her disappearance aren't just some strange, elaborate prank Dreamaria has set up just for him. Unlikely, yeah, but he's also learned that Dream Flow is pretty up there in terms of surprise factor.

Maybe he'll see enough faces on his way back to the Sanctuary to ask around about his friend. But before that, if he wants to even make that journey, he decides that a borrowed umbrella might be a good idea right about now. Or ooh, a cute, tiny raincoat he can drape over his head as he elegantly races through the streets before ducking underneath an awning and meeting his soulmate? Surely Dream had one or the other around somewhere.

The attempt to lighten his own mood somewhat works as he's able to blindly locate her letter, replace it on the counter, and urge himself forward through the low lit room. The air has been quick to drop temperature without its heating unit, only adding to the strangely oppressive atmosphere.

Thankfully the street light bounces off of the far wall - the one he had previously borrowed his towel from - preventing him from running face-first into it. If he's remembering right, and he traces the wall towards those curving stairs in the back corner...

The wall stops short. Tucked into the large alcove that follows, he finds his sought-after mystery door right near the foot of the stairs.

While aware of its existence, he admittedly has never seen the room's interior nor ever had a reason to check it out. He's only ever assumed it to be some sort of coat closet, so naturally, any form of raincoat or umbrella would surely be stored within. Most likely??

But as he steps up to the door, all too ready to prepare for his leave, he yet again is brought to a halt. He makes out a familiar small square shape in this shadowed corner of the house, attached to the door a little higher than the usual eye level.

'Oh. Even here?'

He almost chooses to ignore the sticky note with his priorities at hoof. But something about it draws his eye - and he realizes that, even in this lighting, he can faintly make out words. It's due to the writing itself, displaying neat and meticulous letters, as opposed to the other affirmations that were more hastily scrawled.

'"Because"..."you"...?'

Sky has to lean in until the bridge of his scrunched muzzle is just inches away from the note. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, so he's able to read the bleeding inky words:

"Because you'll prove them wrong."

.....

Skychaser allows himself a moment to give the note a good, long stare.

Maybe it's due to his current circumstances: the storm, the week of Nightmare Night, Dream's absence, standing alone inside a dark, deathly still building on a cold November eve. But the sharp change in tone from Dreamaria's previous notes definitely forces Sky to acknowledge just how unsettled he feels.

One step back and he's boring his visible eye into the closet door before him. That eye then falls to its silver door handle.

...this....is a closet that he just found that note on. Right?

Sky very quietly, very weakly laughs to himself. He moves to turn the handle before he can overthink it.

'Maybe this is where Dream keeps all the dead bodies.' he jests, pushing the door open a sliver.

It creaks under his hesitant grasp. With that crack, Sky notices a light source within, out of sight, in a room bigger than he honestly pictured; faint. Orange. ...pulsating?

BANG!

Sky releases an indecipherable shout right as the door in his grasp SLAMS back in place in one explosive movement. He stumbles backward but he doesn't get far, because in a whirlwind there are glowing blue lights flying around him in literal ribbons, erupting from the floor, grabbing him, coiling around him so rapidly that he doesn't get a chance to even unfurl his wings as he rears up, because now they're being tied to his back and his forelegs are bound up securely against his chest-

He's lifted, hoisted right off the ground and jostled about in the process of being turned. At this point he's stopped thrashing and has kept his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth painfully clenched. Upon the movements stopping, he cracks his eyes open to look down at himself.

Instead, his irises flash to his lower left, where the end of one ethereal ribbon is gradually creeping around his neck without actual contact: a silent threat. He can't control the pitifully strangled noise he lets out, desperately leaning his head as far away as possible, which isn't far at all.

'What the fuck, what the FUCK, I WAS FUCKING JOKING-'

He would be breaking down into hysterical laughter right about now if he wasn't so shaken. The only reason he hasn't entered a full-blown panic is that the ribbons have completely ceased their motions, and while tight, it's not enough to restrict his breathing. He's fine. He's okay.

Look at him. Those positive thinking exercises have been working...haha. ...coping with humor at a time like this probably isn't the healthiest, though, even if it's working to keep his sanity intact.

Maybe it's not fully hitting him. It all feels too unreal, like some realistic fever dream-

Violently swishing fabric rolls through his ears next, too pitched and harsh to be born from his imagination. Skychaser jolts, because in a single blink, the safe beams of the streetlight filtering in from each of the house's windows have been cruelly snuffed out. The curtains have all been pulled shut in one sweep. He's been left in true, absolute pitch darkness.  

And then he sees it.

A set of white, glowing pinpricks of light, waiting in the shadows straight ahead.

Staring right back.

Watching him. Sky registers that this is real.

Body and throat seized up in terror, he doesn't even scream. He can't find his voice, only listening to his own labored breathing while those two glows eerily sway and grow closer. He catches the sound of slow, careful steps. Hoofclacks.

As his mind processes, the glowing orbs stop just outside of the light from his radiant restraints.

And they speak.

"...state your business."

The voice is low. Soft and husky, yet it carries in the quiet amongst a backdrop of rain. It's formal, frigid, and completely foreign to him.

Skychaser shivers.

"I-I..." he struggles out, his own voice hoarse but miraculously coherent despite his scrambled brain. "I was...l-looking-"

He snaps his mouth close when he hears a sharp inhale in front of him. It's followed by a much gentler, far more familiar tone.

"...Skychaser?"

Sky's eyes bug open, only for him to cringe away when a flash of light nearly blinds him. He blinks against it anyway, urging his pupils to focus in on-

Dream Flow.

The tip of her horn is illuminated with a small beacon of magical light - a beacon that closely resembles whatever the hell she's done to her pupils, filled at the centers with the very pinpricks of white that had shaken him previously.

The unicorn looks thoroughly dumbfounded. Wide-eyed, mouth open, head pulled back. When she seemingly confirms his identity for herself, her eyebrows knot even further.

"...you're...my intruder?" she slowly sounds out. "How did you...why are you here?"

Sky's remaining brain cell has long fizzled out by now, so he sputters at first before he exclaims back;

"Me?? I came here looking for you! You didn't show for our sauna meet! Where in Equestria have you been?!"

Cogs seem to turn in his friend's head for a few seconds before realization settles in.

"Oh." She murmurs, blinking owlishly at him. "That...yes. You're right. I...oh..."

More beats of silence pass. Sky shifts uncomfortably in the ribbons' grasp. Before he can even ask, the motion has Dream breaking out of her stupor. As if just realizing the state he's in, dismay flickers across her face. And yet she lets out a laugh, one he can only describe as stressed in this context.

"Oh Celestia, what a horrible...horrible misunderstanding!"

With a blue spark of her horn, Skychaser watches as the magical ribbons begin to shimmer and dissolve away, gently lowering him down as they do. He turns his head about at the rather pretty display, with sparkles left behind in the spell's wake before those dissolve in thin air too. Skychaser doesn't get to admire for long as he clumsily has to catch himself with his front hooves those final few inches to the floor.

He shoots her a perplexed look, but he doesn't think she sees it, because she's too busy aiming a secondary laugh at the floor. In his gut, he has the distinct impression that she doesn't actually find this humorous. Not with the way her shoulders have gone rigid.

"I am...so terribly sorry, Skychaser. I genuinely thought someone had broken into my house and...well, I was prepared for a confrontation!"

"I noticed!" he wheezes out, half-exasperated, half-jokingly. "You also look ready to shoot lasers out of your eyes, and I nearly peed myself because of it."  

Dream winces, then squeezes her eyes and sets her horn sparking blue again. When she reopens them - thank God - her actual pupils have returned. The spectrum of colors in them are discernable again too - downcast, he discovers that the azure in her irises appears more pronounced. Or maybe it's the low lighting.

"They say intimidation leaves an impression," she quips, the corner of her mouth barely quirking up. She's still not looking at him. "Guess it worked, huh?"

Sky mouth pulls down into a deep frown, his gaze roaming over his friend. Dream's blue mane is unusually unkempt from what he's used to. The mare's form hasn't even moved an inch from its tight, almost closed off stance in the past minute or two - a significant contrast to the conversational cadence of her voice.  

He doesn't think he's ever seen Dream so...physically withdrawn before. In a way, it was understandable in the aftermath of what's looking more and more like one very awkward, very startling mix-up. But it's also not like she hurt him.

"Hey, Dreamers, it's okay. You freaked me out, sure, but I'm WAY more relieved to see you. I was starting to think something serious happened."

Shortly afterward, Dream finally meets his eye, but only to offer a sad smile.

"I apologize for that! It seems I just..."

"Overslept?" Sky grins humorously, only to pause when Dream's expression dips into guilty. "Wait what?"

"I'd only meant to close my eyes for an hour or two at most-" she confesses, glancing up towards her stairs. "-and take a short rest before meeting up. But the murky weather must have lulled me." A chuckle bubbles out of her and she shakes her head. "I think my sleepy haze made me forget everything else once a 'threat' entered the picture. But that's no excuse. I won't let something this careless happen again, I promise."

Sky rubs his forehead. Not because he has a headache, but because the small puzzle pieces he now possesses are struggling to mash together. "So...you were actually upstairs? This whole time?"

Dream nods. "Yes, I woke up when..." Her eyes trail over towards the front door.

She goes quiet. Almost as soon as that answer fades out, another question begins. "....Sky, how did you get in anyway?"

"Your door was unlocked...?" he provides, letting the question in his tone voice his own confusion. "Which I thought was weird."

Dream answers with a short, disbelieving laugh. "Oh wowy! Seems I didn't lock it behind me when I got the mail today..." she breathes out a sigh. "I'm glad you got out of the storm, but I'll need to be more mindful."

Mail.

An opening presents itself to him. A way to find answers and ease tension, he hopes, as his buried intrigue and curiosity rises from the depths.

"Hey, don't sweat it! But I gotta say...that was a preeetty cool trick you did back there," A knowing grin spreads across his face, and he leans his head forward with a conspirational whisper. "Miss Wizard~"

Dreamaria doesn't respond right away. It takes her one steady beat before she slowly turns her head back towards him.

A blank stare greets him.

"...what?"

"You're a Wizard, Dreamy!" he chirps, bouncing between his hooves. "Congratulations! Even I couldn't believe it when I spotted your letter, but all that fancy-shmancy magic you did sure confirms it." He taps his hoof to his chin, humming playfully. "It sounds like you've had a bunch of snazzy spells up your sleeve for a while! Why'd you never-"

He's so lost in his giddy mental world of excitement and thrill that he almost misses the way Dream stiffens. Almost.

Because her smiles are gone now.

"You...read my letter."

It's less of a question and more a statement she's allowing to sink in. Caught off guard by her abrupt monotonous tone, he finds himself self-conscious in his reply.

"Yeah it was...lying on the counter, and I thought it could be a...clue...but um..."

With each word, Sky begins to recognize the breach of privacy he had committed and how weak of an excuse he really had to snoop on a clearly personal letter. Even if it felt justified at the time. It's his turn to wince guiltily. "Yeah no that...sounds pretty bad actually."

Dream doesn't react, gazing back vacantly in a way she's never done before. It makes him retract a hoof, an uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach. "...Dream?"

She inhales, almost painstakingly slow and deep. The breath is held for a few seconds longer.

Then, after an exhale that's just as prolonged, the smallest smile ghosts across her muzzle.

"I see. You were worried and it just kind of happened. Right? I'm the one who left it out and created this whole mess. So really, it's my own fault."

What? Sky insistently shakes his head. "No way, it's your house. I should've held off...I'm sorry."

Dream reaches out to touch his shoulder, smiling sweetly. "Apology accepted! What's done is done, eh~?"

Uncertainty lingers despite himself; to think he managed to elicit that response, out of Dream, which made it undeniably that much more nervewracking. Regardless, Skychaser wills himself to relax.

How Dream can consistently be that quick to forgive will remain out of his realm of understanding. Good thing, too...he didn't think he could handle impairing one of his most cherished friendships all because of his own ever-present idiocy.

"...can I ask...??"

Sky's a little dubious on where to put his footing down from here, but he trusts Dream enough to be forthright with him about where her lines lie. Thankfully the corners of the mare's eyes crinkle back cordially.

"Yes, Sky?" she invites.

"...does that mean you're like that one guy?" He leans back in, side-mumbling to her. "Star Whirl the Bearded or whatever-"

Dream laughs, loud and hearty. "OH, heavens no! Starswirl was an arcane prodigy. I'm nothing like that." Dream Flow turns away from Sky to walk towards her front door. Curious, Skychaser follows after her. "In fact, despite what that letter claims, I'm not a Wizard."

"What?" Sky laughs out, shooting the back of her head a doubtful raise of his brow. "But they gave you-"

She smiles back at him over her shoulder, serenely closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"I'm not a Wizard. Being a Wizard suggests that I'm some grand expert who plays with different fields of magic for a living! I'm just an Emotion Counselor who happens to have some extra prior study on the side." For some reason she begins to glide an absentminded hoof against the carved wood of the doorframe. "Reinsford legally naming me their pet Wizard doesn't change that."

...pet? "Now excuse me for a second!" Dream says, aiming her horn towards the entrance. "I really need to reset this before the mental buzzing gives me a headache."

Her horn illuminates - an odd mismatch of bright blue with tinges of her magic's usual orange - and Skychaser gapes as the unassuming decorative markings carved into the door's wooden frame begin to light up brightly, one by one, until it's covered with these glowing elaborate lines and shapes completely unfamiliar to the pegasus. Dream turns back to him, coaxing him with a nudge of her head towards the display.

"If you don't mind, Skychaser, could you please touch one of these runes? If I add in your magic signature, we won't have to worry about another silly mishap."

Sky has literally no idea what any of that means. But Dream looks composed and attentive, so he follows her instructions. This "rune" he touches brightens, casting a warm halo of white light around his hoof. Then it all fades away, dimming the room back to just Dreamaria's light spell.

He glimpses at the unicorn and takes in the unexpectedly soft way she's looking at him.

"...thank you for trusting me." She expresses with warmth, placing a hoof over her chest in some form of relief.

"I mean yeah, always, but that was...?"

Dream perks up. There's a playfulness to her demeanor as she casually shrugs.

"A magical alarm. Just in casies. You activated my runes when you walked in," she giggles. "That's what alerted me and woke me up! But now that I've included you into the formula, you're my trusted exception. No more false alarms if something like this manages to happen again."

Okay. Sky's mind is officially boggled.

"Wait, so you're over here trying to convince me that you're NOT a Wizard-" He gestures incredulously at the door. "But you can do crazy shit like that?!"

Her ears twitch back, enough to catch his attention. Just like that, she's back to averting her gaze.

"Ah...this isn't as complicated as it looks, actually!" Dream defends cheerfully, strain returning to the smile she's wearing. "The initial set up was more tedious if anything. But I appreciate the compliment!"

With that, she strides away from the front door and back into the house, presumably towards her kitchen. However, her attitude regarding the subject bugs him. It's not like he knows much about unicorn history and titles and whatnot, but still...

"I thought being called a Wizard would be like...the highest honor for a unicorn or something." He scratches his head, a little embarrassed over his own lack of knowledge. "So I guess I'm not getting why you're..."

"Being called a wizard is a compliment to a unicorn's abilities." Dream supplies for him, slowing her gait to a halt. She turns her head without facing him, choosing to speak into the air instead. "Being named a Wizard is different...just something silly they began labeling me one day." More jovial laughter shakes her shoulders. "It was a little much! So Ponyville became my home of choice."

Despite her light-hearted, almost whimsical tone, Sky's ability to read body language doesn't fail him. He sees tension retake her frame.

"So you don't want to be one." Sky notes with a frown, eyebrows pulled back. Hooves clacking against the hardwood floor, he stops just beside her to brush a soothing wing against her shoulder; something he realizes he's never had to do, because comfort has only ever been given the other way around. "Too much pressure?" He prompts quietly.

Dream Flow is staring off, a distant look on her face. There's a slight shift to her jaw.

"I...don't have time to..."

She's deep in thought. Contemplative. Choosing her words carefully as she lowers her head to one side.

"...humor their fantasy of me."

A tense silence follows, along with a creeping feeling of personal familiarity. Sky tries to work a response through his mind, but he doesn't get enough time to when Dream's gently pushing his wing away and beaming up at him. "But never mind that. This weather must be doing things to me. It's not like me to put a damper on the mood! I've never been the biggest fan of rain."

"It's not a damper..." Sky tries, because really, when has Dream ever opened up to him like this? It's never even crossed his mind that she even had things to open up about, as stupid as that was.

But it's clear to him that Dream's finished, with the way she holds up a hoof and how the curve of her lips eases. "I wouldn't want anypony getting the wrong idea about me here either, actually. So I hope we can keep this between us? No more ‘Dream the Magical Wizard'?"

Dream drops her pitch a few decimals just to exaggerate the title, and it's so out of the blue that it wins her a short laugh from him. "Of course." Sky answers without hesitation. If she's shared all she's willing to, enough to return to her usual self, he won't push it. That's how she's always been when it came to him, after all. "You're just 'Dreamers the Dork" to me."

A grin breaks across Dream's face at that. "I like that better, actually."

"Ooooh no, don't say that, or else I'll start greeting you like that. Everywhere we go."

Dream giggles and continues her trek to the kitchen with Sky in tow. He now sees that she's heading towards that little area directly beneath her stairway; a side room to her kitchen used for her laundry appliances.

...memory swears that the folding doors to this room were closed earlier.

"Okay, let's fix this..." she hums and steps into the crowded space, leaving Sky standing at the threshold. He never identified it until now, writing it off as some random metallic plate on the back wall, but Dream Flow snaps it open and reveals it to be a door to a breaker box.

Confused, he's about to stop what should've been a futile attempt at bringing back power, but just like that, Dream flicks the top-most switch and the house comes back to life around him. Light refills the room, the microwave lets out a beep of relief, and Sky meanwhile is whipping his head back and forth between the main room and Dream herself.

"Wait, I thought the storm took out the power, how did you??"

"Oh, no." Dream grins sheepishly, gesturing towards the circuit breaker behind her. "That was all me."

Oh, how the surprises never cease with her. When did she even get downstairs to pull this stunt on him?

Well, she could teleport. But even that made noise. How he never heard her even once is-

Oh. Thunder.

"This was...one elaborate plan, Dream."

"That's true. But when you've never lived alone before, you sort of...end up a little paranoid." Dream rubs her foreleg shyly. "I saw lights on downstairs, sensed someone I couldn't even see walking around, and had no clue what they wanted. Naturally I assumed a break-in, so I took the necessary precautions to keep safe and take action."

If Sky didn't feel bad earlier, he's certainly feeling it now.

"Damn...didn't mean to scare ya, sis."

"That goes for two of us..." Dream Flow sighs dramatically. "Causing fear in you...I'd never wish for that again."

"Hey, I'm just glad it wasn't anything paranormal!" Sky exclaims, backing up to let Dream join him in the actual kitchen. When she does, though, she turns her head towards her appliances.

"...oh. Well this is embarrassing." She says, looking straight at one of her sticky notes. "These were meant to be private, but wow does this explain why my 'intruder' was so entertained by my kitchen."

Skychaser snickers. "Hey, I for one appreciated your wise words. I think it's cute that you're messing around with affirmations yourself."

Speaking of...that reminds him.

"I was wondering, Dream," Sky motions his head back towards the very space their face-off had played out. "What's that room by the stairs? I thought it was a coat closet, but..."

He trails off, wondering if Dream will catch on.

"Oh, that? That's just my private study! I've stored a bunch of very personal memories from Reinsford in there." She smiles. "I take it you read my note. It's basically a little reminder for myself to keep moving forward."

Ah. Move on from a town of expectations? That made enough sense to him. And he sure was glad all of the wild threads tonight were finally ending with answers.

"And like everything else, I can only guess that creepy orange glow was you too?" he teases. "I only got a glimpse, but it definitely was a distraction before everything broke loose."

Dream doesn't say anything at first, as if waiting for him to continue or deliver some punch line. When he doesn't elaborate she gives him an inquiring eyebrow raise and a tilt of her head. "Wait, what glow?"

Sky stops. Just in case, he searches Dream's face, but she looks sincerely clueless.

"The...one inside the study?" He provides, hoping for any sign of recognition. "Something was glowing, but it was faint and I couldn't see anything."

Dream looks taken aback. Eyes darting sharply towards the door in question, she gives it one disbelieving look.

"'Glowing'...?" she whispers breathily, and the goosebumps that had long faded away are now returning to Skychaser's pelt. He blanches.

"Oh Gods it wasn't you..." Sky tugs at his hair and makes some sort of makeshift curtain to hide half of his face behind. "Oh Gods, what was that then?!"

Dream's multi-colored orbs snap back to him. "A-ah! Well-" her voice carries a slight tremor, one she catches and visibly swallows down (as if that'll hide how she's just as freaked out as he is, she's not fooling him). Then she laughs it off, giving him a playful grin. "It's probably not ghosts?"

"Probably?!"

"It's more likely some old runic project of mine! Responding to the electrical energy in the storm." She waves her hoof towards the ceiling. On cue, a rumble of thunder reaches them. "Elemental conversion and all!"

"Lady, I still don't get your magic talk, but if you say so..." He heaves out a breath. "Anything but ghosts...or dead bodies."

Dream gives him a quizzical look at that last comment, but apparently decides against asking. "Well hey! You know what'll lighten the mood?" Dream claps her hooves together, eyes glittering now. "The storm won't stop for another hour or two. So it's time for me to begin making it up to you, starting with a movie night! I still have popcorn in the cupboard and plenty of soda~"

Sky squints at her from behind his mane-wall.

"...'Dogs Don't Dance'?"

"A classic." Dream nods sagely.

"And you'll restock your dang empty freezer first thing?"

"Whoops...don't worry! I'll stop slacking and do that tomorrow~"

Skychaser carries himself to the DVD storage shelf her television sits on. It's thankfully on the literal opposite side of the room from Dream's private study, a place he's sure he'll now associate with tension and spooks after the events of the day. Keeping away is proobably for the best, especially right now. Because reassured or not, the pegasus doesn't think he'll be completely shaking off his jitters tonight. A scary movie would probably do him in at this point.  

Dream must be experiencing something similar, because after tapping the popcorn setting on her microwave, he sees her lean against the counter and restlessly gaze off towards that very door behind him. Warding off any surprise demons with her magic stare, he hopes.

But enough jokes. He leaves Dream to it, turning his full undivided attention on the vital task of sifting through DVD cases and finding his favorite comfort movie of jiving animated dogs. They both probably need it.

_________________________________________________________ This...this is a dense chapter and I'm kind of living.

I'm so curious to know what theories and thoughts people have drawn from it, so don’t be afraid to hyper-analyze. Nothing brings me greater joy... I recently fell in love with a few different writing styles and decided to play around with it myself here! I had a lot of fun with it, HEHEH. These probably constitute a whole separate lore upload, but for now, below will be a list of headcanons on Wizards in Destinyverse! For those interested!

-----------------------

Wizard/Sorcerer/Sorceress are all synonymous and are used based on preference. “Wizard” is the go-to gender-neutral term of the three.

The title of “Wizard” has altered throughout time. In pre-Equestrian days, when the Unicorns were all competing to understand magic and develop their power and prestige, the original Unicorn Royal Family were quick to employ the most powerful and innovative mages as advisors. These were the first Wizards - they were gifted high societal status and became the first nobles, whose wealthy descendants still live in the uppercrust of Canterlot to this day.

Thereafter, Wizardry became a profession that certified one’s expertise and allowed a unicorn to work alongside the most prestigious spellcasters and researchers (sometimes working for the crown, but not always). Aspiring Wizards then only earned their own title if they were lucky enough to have their talents acknowledged by the royal family  (in the special case of the mighty prodigy Starswirl himself), or by the authority of an existing Wizard (ie. the sorcerer Clover the Clever, first student of Starswirl the Bearded).

After the three pony tribes integrated into one society (and the Unicorn Royal Family abdicated for the reign of Celestia and Luna), unicorns stepped up in villages all across Equestria to offer magical consultation and arcane services to their fellow ponies. From time to time, an especially studied specialist with a wide range of knowledge would prove their skill or accomplish an incredible feat; thus began the practice of local governments certifying their very own Village Wizard for townsfolk to go to for any magical needs. Not all Village Wizards dedicated themselves to one singular town; in fact, it was considered an honor for a village’s Wizard to proudly represent their town and aid others across Equestria.

The decline of spellcrafting and spellcasting over the centuries has led to Wizards being few and far between. The desire to pass down arcane knowledge still exists, as seen with Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns; so these days, only those with a thirst for knowledge (or even rarer, the desire to pursue arcane advancement) study magic. Even fewer who graduate Celestia's school have gone on to become Wizards, either becoming professors at the princess' school or private tutors of upper-class Canterlot.

The modern Wizard is now defined as a certified practitioner of multiple fields of magic who is consulted for arcane services and/or researches for the sake of arcane advancement. Famous present day Wizards include!

Mage Meadowbrook and Mistmane (both once designated sorceresses of their respective villages). Meadowbrook was the very first non-unicorn to become a mage, and then named Sorceress for her potion-making and item-enchantments.

Starlight Glimmer (sorceress; professor at Twilight’s School of Friendship and occasional aid for Uni-Tech)

Sunset Shimmer (sorceress; royal scientist; founder of Uni-Tech who works for societal advancements in magitech)

Sunburst escapes the definition by a thin hair, due to not being an actual spellcaster or crafter. But he is a valuable magic advisor with his keen mind, and a proud member of Uni-Tech.

[ziracona]

Dwight/Jake wedding headcanons maybe? They deserve it.

For sure!

It’s a couple years down the road. They���ve been living in the Indiana house with Adam, while the others orbit in and out from Springwood and Lockport and Haddonfield and Indianapolis and Bloomington and New Jersey and Missouri and New York and such every few days. It’s peaceful and fun there for them. Woods, big house, familiar smells and people and memorobelia and Ron’s grave and markers added nearby for Vigo and Alex and Lisa and Sujan and the person from the lab with no name and the survivors who came before them and never got to be buried. It’s home. They’re just chilling, Dwight and Jake talking with intent but also very relaxed about something while Adam edits a sequel in his easy chair, deep in edit mode, when Jake calls over, “Hey Adam, do you want to be a best man, or do you want to marry us?”

Which Adam hears the wrong homophone for for a second and almost takes him out before he realizes they meant the other version of ‘marry’ and remembers how to breathe again.

He stutters out a, “Well, I, uh—I mean, I can do whichever you’d prefer, but I’m not ordained. In. Anything. I know I did Min and Nea’s, but—”

“—Yeah, we know, but we just need it to be legal,” Jake shrugs, “and we don’t want a stranger at the wedding period, so someone’s getting ordained.”

“I think you can get ordained online in like an hour,” adds Dwight helpfully, “and we’re not religious either, but—and now that I’m saying this it was Meg so that means I should make sure becuase sometimes her memory for numbers is uhhh bad, but she told me like a week ago you only need ten people to officially get your new religion recognized. And we could be ‘the survivors’ or something. I don’t know I believe in much, but I believe in that.”

Jake nods. “Whatever is true, this group of people can rip a hole in the fabric of the universe for each other. I’d ascribe to that.”

“I kind of like that,” says Adam, “I would too. But if we have a spiritual ‘leader’, wouldn’t Ace be a better choice than me? Or Jane?”

This is considered a good point and they debate between Adam, Jeff, Tapp, Jane, and Ace for a bit, [Philip is also briefly considered, but they realize just as fast he’d be overwhelmed and stressed by having to do it & mercifully swap him to another role], then decide on Ace, who’s always been the kind of...not exactly dad, not exactly uncle, but not not those things, and certainly some kind of an early spiritual or morale core for them, parentish figure, and a comfort and hope leader for them all. Also, they know he’ll get a fkn kick out of being ordained for this.

Dwight takes Quentin as his Best Man, Claudette his Maid of Honor, and Jake takes Nea as Matron of Honor, Andrew as Best Man, and Meg as Maid of Honor. They decide fuck it, and it’s kinda Parks & Rec (an argument used by and against Jake many times the next few weeks) anyway, and also both take Adam and Philip as Best Men because fuck it, it’s too hard and also wedding rules are arbitrary and made to be broken, and so then Jake adds Kate as a bridesmaid, Dwight adds Laurie, they realize the number of survivors is dwindling dangerously and decide fuck it, our wedding is for us might as well be fkn weird and cool, and add David, Min, Tapp, Jane, Jeff, and Laurie as groomsmen and bridesmaids too. This still leaves Michael, Anna, Sally, Benedict, Susie, Jeff’s three Legion kids, and everyone’s families which is like fkn a lot of people, to be audience party (sans Nancy, who is pleaded with to be wedding party and run the music pre-reception because the number of people that they want involved /and/ who won’t give in to or be tricked by Meg into some kind of terrible flash mob stunt is very small, and in fact, basically is just Nancy. She is happy to do it and thinks their desperate reasoning is hilarious).

They break the news to Meg and Claudette and Ace first (after Adam), ask Ace to marry them, and tell Meg she can run post-weddding/reception music however she wants, except the songs for a couples dance & parent dances. She is /thrilled/. Claudette is very happy and cries. They call up Quentin & Nea to add to the conversation and Jake says Nea and Meg and Susie are in charge of setting up the wedding because he knows they’re gonna fight him for the role anyway, but they have to throw whatever they can together with only the stuff they own already and $50, they want only family & the other survivors/their families at the wedding, the service short and sweet, and to have it at the cabin, by the river. Meg loses her mind with indignance and joy together, and goes buckwild. They hit thrift shops for fairy lights and streamers and more.

Everyone is thrilled to be asked, Jane says “about time,” and Philip can’t think of anything to say and gets overwhelmed emotionally and taken off guard to be asked to be a groomsman. It’s sweet. Everyone with fashion sense takes everyone else shopping or through their wardrobes for fun wedding clothes and to at least have accent pieces that match a color theme. (Complimentary blues, yellow/gold, and pinks to the grooms’. More on that). It’s super fun & they make a fashion show of it. There’s no matching in form, just color, which is just the best version anyway there’s really no goddamn reason to spend thousands of bucks on a wedding when you could just have a funky cute good time with the people who love you & no stress.

Jake picks a deep blue hanbok (bc the hottest Jake I’ve ever seen is the one @eggchef did for lunar new year & the note in the tags about an actual hanbok has been banging around in my head ever since), and when they’re going through stuff for Dwight, he comments a pink one is surprisingly nice because it’s not the color he’d expected to think about, and Jake remarks offhand that if they do deep blue and pink they’ll be stealing their girls’ looks, and the second he says that, they both know there’s no other choice now. Dwight gets a light pink suit and a tie that matches Jake’s blue. They’re adorable and both look exceedingly handsome.

The wedding is short and perfect. Ace does a great job, it’s a nice day, and Meg works wonders with her $50 budget and (notably obscenely large) preexisting store of party supplies, + help from her mom who is passing down the legacy of being the best tiny budget party planner on earth. It’s very open, but with near arches and dangling glass and prisims that cast rainbows everywhere, lots of meaningfully chosen for their blessings and symbolism flowers and flower chains from Claudette. It’s a little reminiscent of the birthday decorations Min and Nea did plus the prisims, and that accidentally makes all the survivors super emotional like 1 minute in.

Only the moms get to speak in the wedding (besides Ace and the grooms), and Andrew and Meg and Nea and Quentin and such all gotta save their roasts for the reception. It’s sweet. Ace knows them super well and it shows in the best way. The grooms write their own vows, and both echo their statements in the hatch tunnel without knowing the other was going to do so too. Jake starts with an “I am deeply, unendingly, ridiculously in love with you,” and Dwight brings in a, “I wouldn’t be who I am without you.” They end it with Dwight saying, “Will you still stay with me, now that it’s all over? Through whatever we’re thrown to next?” And Jake replying, “Wherever you go, I’ll always follow.”

I cry.

The reception is a party by the house. It’s just a huge prepared buffet made by the family who can cook, so no one has to sit and wait. Meg starts the music with Cascada’s Evacuate the Dance Floor because she doesn’t “want to see people dragging their feet like a bunch of fuckin weenies, I want asses on that dance floor!” There’s a lot of 90s and early 2000s pop, but also many many classic dance songs. Lots of ABBA. Lots of it. Everyone has great fun. Min, Nea, Susie, and Meg made the playlist, except for a few of the specific dances. Muriel Fairfield’s mother-son dance with Dwight is to Song For Ten by Neil Hannon because he knows she’s a sweet big emotional nerd and it’s the song she wants, and he’s willing to do it, and she sobs and is a mess but also the happiest she’s been since the day she got the call he was alive.

They have literally zero idea where they’re going when they drive off for a honeymoon. They’re like “Uhh so I’ve been looking at our complete and utter lack of wedding structure and planning as a good thing? But we might have overstepped that a little here....”

Dwight drives while Jake searches the web for LGBT safe honeymoon locations because there’s nothing that would ruin a trip more than that not working out, and reads off a list and Dwight is like, “Wait wait holy fuck, I though you meant what US cities or maybe Canada. Switzerland? Do we even have cash for the plane fare somewhere like that?” And Jake just looks at the page silently for a few seconds, shuts the laptop, and without expression says, “...I really hate this, but I’m gonna let myself be a rich boy, just once.”

They take Andrew’s jet to New Zealand (Jake calls him and listens for 2 minutes then just monotone goes “Okay but you owe me for being a dipshit for fifteen years,” and they get the ride). Jake picks a relaxed pace and some scuba diving, some hikes, but no overnight camping. Lots of just seeing the world and holding hands and grinning at how absolutely breathless and shocked Dwight is at every chunk of nature like nothing he’s seen before. They are disgustingly, blissfully happy.

[gleekto]

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA,  and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Even Better Than the Real Thing (5/15)

Kurt is sitting at his desk, completing his essay on queer subtext in ‘Cats’ when Rachel rushes in the front door like a hurricane. “Please help me clean, Kurt. They’ll be here soon.”

“Who will be here when?” Kurt is immediately irritated. 

“You know, the cast, hair and make up, whomever can make it. I really felt that as the star of the show that I should be hosting a get together evening. I’ve got the wine, we can warm up some easy appetizers, cut some veggies. Oh and can you make your guacamole?-”

‘Wait what? Did you even think to ask me if tonight worked for me? My essay is due tomorrow.”

“I did-” Kurt stares at her. “I didn’t ask? I mean I thought I mentioned it last weekend.” 

Kurt sighs deeply. “You didn’t.”

“Okay I’m sorry. But come on, Kurt. I know your essay must be almost done. You never leave anything to the last minute-”

“Unlike some other people, apparently.” Kurt groans and shakes his head but begrudgingly stands up and makes his way to the kitchen. “You clean. I’ll do the guac and veggies.” Rachel thanks him profusely and he shoos her away so he can get the food done. He will need to shower and change before anyone arrives. And clean his room. Because though he won’t ask Rachel who’s coming, he’s not going to risk Blaine Anderson thinking his home is a mess. 

...

By the time Kurt feels ready enough to enter the gathering from the safety of his bedroom, having carefully chosen a definitely flattering but not trying too hard outfit for the occasion - a skintight white long sleeved shirt under a dark grey vest with tight dark blue jeans - there are already a good ten guests in his living room, milling and drinking wine and laughing too loudly. But so far, no Blaine Anderson. He chats for a bit with Sarah and Joan, two of the hair and make up folks, and tries very hard to be interested in whose hair is the hardest to get consistently correct, and not to be distracted by who is not there.

“Rachel!” The door swings open about half an hour later and there he is, giving Rachel a big hug, handing her a bottle of red wine, and apologizing for being late. Kurt’s heart beat quickens slightly but he notices that he is not going into full on panic mode. They’re friends, buddies, and of course they’ll talk tonight. Yes, it’s Blaine Anderson and yes, he’s really very gorgeous, but it’s a bit more like hot gay friend has entered the premises and less like he’s holding his breath to catch a brief glimpse of Sing!’s most eligible bachelor. He can do this.

“You almost missed your chance,” Kurt wanders over and hands Blaine a Corona with lime. “It’s the last one but lucky for you, I set it aside.”

Blaine smiles widely, looking genuinely thankful  - Kurt thinks more appreciative than a saved beer would warrant. “You know my drink of choice?”

“Given that it’s all you’ve been drinking each time I’ve seen you - I guess I know your “drink of choice.” Kurt makes quotation marks with his fingers.

Blaine raises the bottle in a cheers-like gesture. “So this is your home,” Blaine takes in the apartment, looking at both Kurt and Rachel. 

“Two bedrooms, two bathrooms-” 

“That was a requirement,” Kurt adds. “I have a very particular nighttime skin routine and there was no way I was competing with Rachel Berry for the mirror.” Blaine laughs and keeps smiling at him with those sparkly eyes.  It’s unnerving.

“Kurt, why don’t you give him a mini-tour? I need to refill the Sangria bowl,” Rachel says, flitting off to the next thing.

“Why don’t you, then?” Blaine says. Kurt surveys the room. The apartment is not that big.

“Well, this is the living room slash kitchen slash main room.” I mean, Blaine can’t really think there is that much of a tour to take, but he’ll humour him. Kurt leads Blaine to Rachel’s unfortunately overly pink room and bathroom. “I couldn’t convince her that it was not a bold choice, but a bad choice.” Blaine’s eyebrows rise as he takes in light pink walls with splashes of bubble gum pink accents, and he laughs genuinely at Kurt’s commentary. Neither this tour, nor Kurt, are really that amusing but okay. Blaine Anderson is having fun. 

“I guess she really is a girly girl at heart,” Blaine says as he follows Kurt into his own room. Much more soothing, and more adult, shades of blues and greys, with some bold orange accent pillows on his bed for flare. 

“A girly girl can still have taste - and that room, Blaine, is too much pink.” 

“I dated a guy last year who had a pink room,” Blaine rolls his eyes at the memory as he sits down on Kurt’s bed. Okay. Guess they’re staying here for a bit.

“Just really proud?” Kurt pulls out his desk chair and faces Blaine.

“A proud gay guy can still have taste,” Blaine mimics, looking approvingly around Kurt’s room.

“Indeed.” There’s a brief pause and Kurt’s heart starts to race again, worried it might get awkward. “Wait - didn’t you say you couldn’t meet anyone while working on Sing!?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t stop me from trying. Or sort of trying while enjoying,” Blaine pauses. “The LA scenery.” 

Now Kurt laughs, shaking his head to himself. “Honestly, I can’t imagine having a life where there are so many options that they are all just part of the pretty scenery. Although I suppose Mr. Pink’s room didn’t qualify.”

“Mr. Pink,” Blaine pauses, looking like he is assessing whether he should say whatever is on the tip of his tongue. “Had a body to make up for the room,” Kurt’s eyes widen but he wills himself to play it cool. No big deal. Friends chatting about past relationships. “So we had a week of torrid sex and the rest is history.”

Kurt bites his lip. This image is too much. Blaine Anderson having torrid sex is too much. He knows he’s red. He just says the first thing that comes into his head, “Honestly, Blaine, I’m from Lima, Ohio and your life right now, it’s outside my mid-western frame of reference.”

Blaine chuckles again but he nods. Does he think Kurt is just hilariously innocent? “I know. You know, I don’t completely forget what it’s like to arrive in LA from small town Ohio. I’m only 24.  Did you ever get out to Columbus for any of the  LBGT youth dances or game nights? I used to do that. Even got my first kiss from a drunken college freshman behind the community centre. Very romantic.”

“Nope.” Kurt answers quickly. “Never went to Columbus. No dances or games. No kisses.” He’s embarrassed but what else was he going to say? Blaine’s suspicion of his innocence confirmed.

“No first kisses?” Blaine repeats and Kurt shakes his head quickly. 

“Why is that so hard to believe? I thought we already discussed that Lima is not exactly a gay mecca.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not. Lima would not exactly be the best place to meet someone.” Blaine agrees, shaking his head and looking down slightly before looking right back into Kurt’s eyes. “It’s just that,” Blaine breathes in, “You’re hot.”

What. The fuck. 

Great. Now the silence is going to be super painful because Kurt is certain no coherent words will come out of his mouth ever again. 

“Anyways,” Blaine bites his lower lip, shaking off his momentary slip of the tongue. “Thank you for the tour.” Kurt gets up to lead them back out to the others. “You’re one up on Mr. Pink.”

“For my decor? I hope so.” Kurt manages to speak words.

“In all areas,” Blaine says quietly from behind him and before Kurt can register the second less than subtle compliment in five minutes, and turn around, Blaine is back in the crowd, chatting with Joan and Sarah as if nothing could be more interesting than the perfect hair gel. As if he did not just say what he said. 

Kurt is done. For the night. Maybe forever. He’s sure he’s not capable of any more small talk with echoes of “You’re hot” and “In all areas” singing through his head. He quietly sneaks into his bedroom and closes the door. He may be innocent and even naive. But Blaine Anderson was most definitely flirting with him. He was honest, at least about his relationship past (or lack thereof), but Blaine didn’t run away. He stayed. And stared. And flirted. 

This situation is real. And very complicated. 

He needs to stop blogging. 

Out of respect for my source, who is a good friend, I need to stop posting on this blog. I will leave the blog up for all the fun gifs, and I may even be back to peruse on occasion. You know I will miss you all. Keep sing!ing, my friends -LimaBlaineFan

[beautifulterriblequeen]

What if moonshadow elves lost knowledge about themselves?

Hello, hope you have a nice day ! :D

(wait, is it day, for you?) hem! Anyway.

I was analylzing Moonshadow elves again and now I’m asking myself something, wonder what you would think about it:

Remember my “epiphany about the moon arcanum”?, when I said there’s maybe another side of their arcanum Moonshadow elves don’t know about? Something more life-light related:hope.

At first I said “they don’t know about” without really thinking about it. But, what if it’s true? I mean, what if there truly is a part they don’t know about their arcanum, or maybe forgot along the years? What if the war made Moonshadow elves focus so much on death-kill and all they kinda…. lost some of their knowledge about themselves? 

(I think I remember one of your old analysis (I think it was you, I can’t find it anymore), where you compared “young ethari” in the endcredits to the actual one. Where we saw him first doing jewelry, full of hope about life, and the actual one who let that aside to focus on the war) 

Add to this their community is described as “really close-knit”, which means more or less isolationism and so a stagnant, unable to evolve society. A society where the same rules were applied for centuries and so inevitably lost their deep meaning with time. 

I thought it was maybe exaggerated to think this way, but then I remembered the creators said there is 5000years of history in TDP. Even with longer lifespan, there’s no way elves didn’t forget some things with time. (I compare this situation to another one: some discoveries were recently made in egypt, and we learned that a few thousands years ago egyptian themselves re-discovered things they had discovered several centuries prior and forgot)

So I tried to find proof in the show and the novelization, and guess what? We have some! (or, well, it’s more my HC, but as I said, it’ just a theory)

I think this way especially because of Runaan, who was so sure there was “only one way to release”. But then, Zym came and cut Rayla’s ribbon. My personal HC on this is that only the life who was supposed to be avenged can release the assassin from the binding. It would make sense when you know Moonshadow elves “take life but they do not take it lightly”. But even if I’m mistaking, the central fact is that there is more than one way and, clearly, Moonshadow elves don’t know it (if the leader of the assassins doesn’t, then who could?)

What I find interesting here, is that Runaan recites this ritual at the beginning, about how precious life is, like a litany but the way he insists (especially in the novel) about killing Ezran even after he saw the egg, could be the proof it’s just that, a ritual. A ritual whose words lost all their sense, their deep meaning for his people.

Ok, it’s not much, but I think the combination of isolationism, stucking to rules without understanding them deeply and time, is the perfect recipe to lose your way, no? 

Oh, and a crazy other point in between these two theories about “hope” and “lost knowledge” woud be: If there is another aspect of the moon, other elves more hope-related (like Ethari or Rayla), why not another form?

Like sunfire elves have heat and light-being mode, Moonshadow elves could have something else too?. It’s probably stupid, I’m only thinking this way because of how Rayla feels while in moonshadow form in the novelization. It’s not that she hates it or something, but it makes her feel dizzy, as if she wasn’t suited for this. And if not, maybe it’s because she’s suited for another form? 

(sorry, I hope I’m coherent on this one, I’m a little exhausted and my thoughts are a little messy ^^’)

______________

Okay, @lily-lilou​, just let me catch my breath, this whole thing is a ride and I loved it. We definitely vibing here, fam.

whew

Okay, from the top, because I’ve had a lot of these thoughts myself and I’m so stoked to see someone else independently coming up with them!

Yes 100% to Moonshadows losing a part of their own history. (And yeah, I do have a post somewhere on Ethari’s evolution. Probably called it that iirc) If we’re right about Moonshadows having lived in Katolis before the lands were divided, living right near their own Nexus as the Sunfires still do, then when they packed up and left, it’s very possible they literally couldn’t bring everything with them.

I have a quirky little hc that there are still, to this day, Moonshadow villages hiding behind ancient protection spells in Katolis, and that people wander past them every day and have no idea. But it’s one thing not to be able to pack up your actual village. It’s another to leave behind records of your people’s past, their accomplishments and dealings and discoveries.

*eyes Lujanne’s truly massive library, with its huge walls covered in runes and books* This is where the full history of the Moonshadow people probably is kept. And no one has access to it but her.

Those who headed east would only know what they carried with them, and what was handed down orally through the generations. But see, if my headcanon about the Moonshadow assassins being created at that time ends up being true, then that’s probably bad news for history and truth. When you create a whole new class within your culture, you need to bolster it with ideology. You use myth, cultural norms, and current events to make it seem important.

You tell everyone that being an assassin is the most honorable job there is. And then it’s suddenly cool to be an assassin. 

If there were no Moonshadow assassins before the humans were booted out west, then everything Runaan says to Rayla, everything he believes, is pretty young compared to his people’s full history, which he may not know, at least in its true and undistorted form. It’s an illusion. Rhetoric. Propaganda meant to hold soft elves who deeply value life to the hardest task they’ll ever undertake: taking that life from another, for a cause they cannot turn away from, a purpose they are culturally indebted to. Because their people, their princess (?), was the one who asked for the humans to be spared, and so every mistake the humans make from that point on is the Moonshadow elves’ duty to handle.

Runaan was wrong about how many ways there are to release. Has Zym truly been the only victim who wasn’t actually dead, in a whole thousand years? Honestly, probably not, knowing how politics works. But see, if you have an elite squad devoted to serving Xadia, and you tell them that their hands will literally fall off and they will die if they don’t do their jobs because there is only one way to release the ribbon they’re honor-bound to wear, they will take their target or die trying. And if you maybe exaggerated reports of the victim’s death for political purposes and actually have them in a dungeon, or they fled to the human lands as a refugee, or any number of other squirrelly options that Moonshadows aren’t naturally inclined to consider, then you can literally get away with murder-by-proxy. Or containment. Or intimidation. Or whatever your purpose is in taking out a human target who may or may not even be guilty of the crime you allege against them. It might not even be Zubeia and Avizandum’s fault. Unless they can detect truth and lies, they can be deceived by someone unscrupulous with an agenda of their own.

Long paragraph long, there are a lot of problems with the existence and practical duties of Moonshadow assassins. They’re kind of like the War Doctor: born form conflict, and thus only able to serve it, instead of peace. Yes, we all want Runaan to get his happy ending, retire, go home to his soft husband. But really, the whole institution of the assassins needs to go. It was born of war, and if Xadia and the human lands make peace, truly, then the assassins should be dissolved. As I said in one of my fics, Moonshadow assassins are Xadia’s dark magic, turning death into power. It’s gotta stop on both sides.

One of my oneshots for January’s Ruthari Week played with the idea of Ethari having a moonform instead of a shadowform, because yes to elves having two kinds of forms in each culture! I would love to see that for all the elves. And if we use Sunfire elves as a kind of roadmap, with “sun” and “fire” being the heat- and light-beings, then maybe the other elves get their two forms from their names as well. Or so my headcanon went for that fic: a moon form to balance the shadow form, where the elf’s body can glow like the full moon. I didn’t really touch on what that form’s ability would be, but I suppose, logically, it would serve as a portable full moon, powering other nearby Moonshadows even when the moon was down, or new, or a small crescent.

Okay, that’s just fun. I like that idea a lot. The only time “just stand there and look pretty” can be used as a battle tactic!

I can see Rayla getting to have the rare Moonshadow power. That would make her a good balance for Callum and his unusual arcanum as a human. Part misfit, part superpower. It would also probably be a power that puts her closer to Ethari’s soft and protective attitude, no matter what the power really is, since the assassins in Moonshadow culture have clearly adopted their natural shadowy form as a mission tactic, attacking specifically on full moon nights. Literally any other kind of power is probably going to be softer, lighter, more lively and bright, in concept if not literally so. Maybe the other power kicks in on new moons? or is available at any time? I really hope we get a second Moonshadow power of some kind. I am down for all the extra worldbuilding!

Thanks once again for your thoughts! *fist bump* Moonshadow elves. You get it.

[mimiscappinisideblog]

I've got this idea for sometime now and I know I'll never gonna do anything with this so I'll share it with you all.

If any of you wants to do something with this shit be my guest. Btw this is some selfindulgent shit.

This has been in my drafts for months.

_________________

A friday night out with your friends. Just your average group of people in a bar drinking and enjoying eachothers company.

This bar was one of your favorites because of the ambient, not too classy and just enough of that calmly home feeling to make you feel warm and welcome.

Not to mention the live music playing every night. Each artist bringing a little of their soul to play off on that stage where all the patrons were able to see and listen.

You suggested this specific bar to your friends because of one thing, the drinks were really good and not too expensive, and maybe also because friday nights a certain musician came in to play it's a posibility. Okay, it was only for him who are you kidding.

You frequented that bar enough times to know that he came every friday to sing a couple of songs then he'd have one or two beers before leaving.

By this time you already knew who he was, the barman told you he teaches music in an after school program that originated from Horace Green. The barman already knew of your little crush on him and was trying to get you to try and talk to him but you were too shy of a loser to actually go and say hi to him.

One of your friends shooked you out of your thoughts and handed you your drink, she saw your distant stare.

"You alright there dub? You seem distracted." she asked with concern in ver voice.

"Which is funny considering you were the one that bring us here. You wanna leave already or something?" another one chimes in.

"No, no. I'm fine." you said trying to compose yourself for them "I was just thinking, nothing to worry about." you hope they buy it and not press more on the matter that you were expecting someone intenly watching the front doors. "what were you guys talking about?"

You try to jump in the conversation but out of the corner of your eye you see the doors open.

And then you see him.

Dewey Finn, the man who's been running on your mind the whole day in anticipation for this moment. The man who sends you a thousand buttlerflies everytime you hear his melodic voice singing. He's fanally here.

He goes to do a little chat with the barman. Your eyes focus on him for a little too long. Long enough for you not to notice that your friends were also looking at you and thanks to your staring they noticed Dewey as well.

They all excange knowing looks that were only confirm by every second that passed and you were still staring at the poor unsuspecting guy.

A witress blocks your view of the musician bringing your table some food.

"So..." your friend adressed you after the waitress was gone and you started to dig in "Were you going to go talk to him or just stare at his back whole night?"

Taking in the question you suddently notice you're the center of attention, all eyes were on you "What are you talking about?" you said trying to play dumb.

"Come on, everybody saw the way you were undressing the guy at the front bar. A little bit more staring and you'd drill holes on the back of his neck"

"Please. She was totally looking at his butt. No way the holes were going to end up in his head" your face was aflame, pretty sure they all could see your red blush even with the caramel lights of the place.

"No I wasn't" you insist "I was just looking at the different drinks they have on the menu posted on tbe wall. Might wanna try something new"

"Something new... Like the guy with the guitar at the front bar?" They kept at it.

There was no escape, they won't let you go out of this. You know very well they'll keep it up until you confessed to them, which you were known to avoid at all costs.

With a deep breath you finish the glass you were still holding onto and stood up "I wasn't staeing at him, if you don't believe me I don't care. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to the bathroom" you really needed some cold water on your hot-red face.

Meanwhile Dewey went on stage to get his things ready, so when the barman was free he took a stroll to the table you and your friends were at.

He told your friends all they needed to know about your little 'dilema' with Dewey and that he tried effortlessly to get you two together.

He left your table after that and went back to work. Your friends were estatic, comming up with ideas of what to do with you.

And they got one, you were fucked... Well they hope you get fucked at least.

Just as you came back from the bathroom the sound of guitar strings being played sorrounded you. Sweet honey filled your ears and your heart fluttered when Dewey started to sing.

You were so dumb stroked you didn't even notice your friend on your right gave you a full glass of beer.

So entranced with the music and musician you downed the whole thing before the song was over.

Dewey usually sang three songs each night.

By the time he finished you were three full glasses down.

You were, by no means, drunk you had enough acohol in your sistem just to be in a "overconfident" mode.

So overconfident that you let out a "That guy is so fucking cute" loud enough for your friends to hear.

They all wore matching grins.

The plan comming into play.

"You know, you should go an tell him" one friend on your right tells you.

"Haha I can't do that" you said laughing at the idea of just going and talk to him.

"What's the matter? Are you scared?" everybody howls at that.

Oh they did not just implied that you are scared of something like that. Overconfident you was scare of nothing!

"I am not scared!" you kind of shout.

"Oh yeah? Go and tell him you think he's cute then!"

"Fine I will!" and you march for were Dewey was.

He was sitting on a bar stool looking at his phone while drinking.

At the middle of the way your shy self rised up over your overconfident one and scramed at you. What were you doing?! How do you talk to him? How in the world are you going to tell him he's cute?? This was a bad idea.

While your mind was debating your feet didn't seem to care and continued on their way.

By the time you finally decided you were going to turn around and go back to your table a voice surprised you.

"Hi. Can I help you with anything?" you look up and see. See him.

You never got this close to him before, barely two feet away. He had beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that were looking right at you waiting for an answer. Oh shit you had to answer! Your brain scattered and was looking for what to say. Think of something!

You felt eyes on your back too. Then you remembered your friends. Your friends. They fucking knew! Oh, shit they knew. How?

Making up a lie you answer Dewey "Oh, hi! Yeah, I- I'm just here because my friends kinda made me? Would you fake talking to me for a while until they calm out?" you shoot him a smile you hope seals the deal and he believes you.

"Of course. I mean, I wouldn't have to "fake it" if we just small talk, right?" oh my god his smile was brigth enough to lift your worries and made you forget everything around you.

You just smile like a dork at him, standing in front of him not sure what to do with your hands.

Everything was going okay, mindless banter of the wheater, music. It was perfect!

But your friends weren't buying it, they knew you were staling. So one of them shouts at Dewey "SHE THINKS YOU'RE CUTE!"

You freeze. Well this is it. I'm going to die after I kill my friends.

You were going to make a run for it when you hear "Is that true?"

Looking at Dewey you felt silent for a minute.

"Do you really think I'm cute?" that genuine smile catched you off guard.

Enough to make you speak without thinking "Of course I do! You're hella cute" Were did that come from?

He just giggles at that. Is he... Is he dashful? This man is going to be the death of you!

"Why, thank you!" he takes a good look at you "You're pretty cute too" and he sends you a wink.

Now you think he's gonna be the death of you.

How fucking dare he make your heart stop for a second. And that wink made your legs tremble. You were so fucked.

"Wow, um. Thanks a lot! I'm gonna go now. My friends are waiting-" right when your body started to move he speaks.

"Wait! Won't you like to sit with me for a bit? I mean if it's no trouble. I understand if you don't, it's okay" just when you thought he couldn't get any cuter here he is, trying to make you stay. You were going to die.

"You're so kind but my friends-" you can't finish because of a voice shouting over you again.

"GO SIT WITH HIM! YOU WILL BE FINE!"

Dewey laughs at that and your reaction.

Whe you get your hands on your friends they'll!!-

"I guess you'll be staying with me for a while" Dewey says with a smile, beckoning you to sit next to him. And you do.

_____________

That's all I got. I don't know how to continue.

The plot was that he also noticed you when he performed at the bar. Then the sexy times happens.

But I can't write so all I have is this

Okay, bye.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Barchie Theories

I’ve had a few days to mull it all over so I figured I’d post some of the theories I have for what might happen next for Barchie. I’ve got a few theories, some I think are more likely than others. They are all based on the promo and pics that have been released. The only clue we really got from the summary was that Archie and Betty are going to be contemplating their next steps which doesn’t give us a whole lot of information but does tell us that they will at least be trying to decide what they are going to do about the kiss. We can deduce more from the promo stills that were released but obviously they are all out of context. As I said I’ve got a couple of theories and they depend entirely on which order the stills happen in the episode. 

Theory 1 

Ok so theory one I think is a popular theory at the moment which I do think is very likely and it happens if the events shown in this picture 

happen earlier in the episode than the events in this one.

In this theory I think the episode will start out with Barchie already in the bunker, like it’ll be the opening shot or at least the first time we see them both. This is when we’ll get that shot from the promo where Betty will ask what they are doing, to which Archie will reply that he doesn’t know but it’s nice. I think we’ll then get a flashback to this. 

I then think it will cut back to them and Betty will ask ‘what are we going to do?’. The next time we’ll see Barchie will be when they are away from each other. I think they will both be contemplating things and I think we will get more flashbacks with both of them thinking back on their relationship. I also think this will be when Archie writes Betty a song. He will then call her up and ask her to come to the bunker and he’ll sing the song for her. I think this will be a really sweet and emotional moment. I think it’ll be very reminiscent of the scene in season 1 when Archie plays for Betty, Kevin and Veronica and Betty has to run off because she’s so overcome with emotion. I do think that Archie will stop Betty from leaving and tell her he wants to be with her and that they should tell Veronica and Jugead. This will cause a disagreement between them as Betty who was really hurt by him in the past will be more reluctant to risk her heart by giving them a chance now. I also think Betty feels very stable in her relationship with Jughead and doesn’t want to disrupt that, she feels safe with him and I do think she still loves and cares for him, her feelings for Archie hasn’t changed that. I also feel like while Archie is very impulsive Betty is a lot more think before you act. I do think Archie is going to have to fight for her. But I also think that Archie unlike Betty has already made up his mind that he wants to be with Betty. After the argument Betty will leave before later telling him that she doesn’t want anything to change between the four of them and to just forget what happened. This will leave Archie pining after Betty like Betty was after him in season 1. In the last episode of the season it’ll somehow be revealed that they kissed, whether it’s through a videotape being left or shown or by someone catching them. That’ll be the cliffhanger for the season. 

Theory 2 

Ok so that’s theory one but what if we rearrange things. What if we say that actually the picture where they seem to be disagreeing happens before the one where they are together on the bed. It is possible that when we start out the episode it quickly becomes painfully obvious that Betty has been actively avoiding Archie since the kiss. As I’ve said before I do think that Archie wants to be with Betty and wants to be with her now and so he’s getting really frustrated and upset that she doesn’t want to talk to him. Again this will be similar to how it was in season 1 when Archie was really struggling with Betty not wanting to talk to him. Archie realises that after rejecting her before that he really needs to do something to prove that he is sincere and that he means it when he says he wants to be with her. So this is when he writes her a song it’s likely that we’ll see some flashbacks to their childhood when he is writing it. He then texts her to meet him in the bunker. Cue a scene where we have Archie lighting all the candles and getting everything ready and then pacing around restlessly worrying that she might not come but praying that she will as it gets later and later. Then just when you (and Archie) don’t think she’s going to show, in walks Betty. I then think it’ll play out the same as in theory one. Archie will sing the song, Betty will get overwhelmed, Archie will tell her he wants to be with her, I also think he might tell her he loves her, they’ll disagree and Betty will leave. However in this theory this isn’t where it ends. I think after leaving it’ll be Betty who has flashbacks this time as she remembers all the good memories she had with him and how much she loved him all those years, she’ll again feel overwhelmed and will go down to the bunker to be alone and get some space to think. Archie who has spent the day absolutely miserable because he thinks he’s lost any chance of being with Betty is thinking the same thing, that he just needs some alone time. So he too goes to the bunker and finds Betty there. They share an intense look and without speaking Archie comes and lays on the bed next to her and we get the scene from the promo. The fact that this was the only scene in the promo makes me think its a really important scene. It’ll then fade into the flashback of them laying on the floor. One thing I am certain of is that those two scenes will follow each other. When it comes back to current Barchie I think this will be when Betty realises that she still loves him the same now as she did back then and that she can’t deny her feelings anymore. Maybe Barchie then share a kiss. While staring deeply into each others eyes Betty will say something intense and profound like ‘Everything is going to change you know.’ Archie will say, ‘I know.’ Then the last line of the episode will be Betty saying ‘I love you.’ Fade to black. This is my favourite theory to be honest but being a Barchie shipper I am biased. I’m not sure how likely it is to happen but I do think its a good possibility. But then we’ve been baited with Barchie so much in the past that reining in my expectations is my kinda of go to. But I also feel like after all the hints over the seasons and all the build up there needs to be some kind of pay off and well I like to be optimistic so you never know.  

Theory 3

Ok so another reshuffle lets get crazy and say that this scene that shows Betty looking very overwhelmed and upset

actually happens before this one where Archie sings her the song.

I mean what if we are interpreting it all wrong? What if they aren’t disagreeing at all?  Lets say that right before this scene Jughead has just told/ shown Betty the video of the guy in the Jughead mask being bludgeoned to death by the woman in the Betty mask. Maybe Barchie had already arranged to meet but right before she leaves Jughead lets her in on this awful new piece of information. So when Betty gets to the bunker she is in full freak out mode about it, understandably. She’s not arguing with him but explaining about the video tape. In this picture here Betty looks really sad and worried more than angry to me. 

 She also appears to be standing as oppose to sitting as far as I can tell so I don’t think its her reacting to the song while Archie is playing it. I think this might be where Archie is telling her to take a few deep breaths and calm down and here she’s actively trying to get herself back together. I then think Archie will try to cheer her up by singing her the song in the same way that Betty tried to cheer Archie up last episode by suggesting they rehearse. Using music as a way to take their worries off their minds for a moment. Part of the reason why I think this is because if you look at their faces while Archie is singing they are both smiling. 

This picture here for example could be Archie gving Betty a reassuring or comforting smile. By some miracle maybe we don’t get an episode where one or the other is doubting their feelings, maybe its just full of really nice moments where they talk openly and honestly with each other and accept that they have feelings for each other and that they should be together but that with all the craziness going on elsewhere in the episode, because I feel like from the summary that Jughead and Veronica aren’t going to be around Betty and Archie much, they don’t get the chance to come clean to Jughead and Veronica but by the end of the episode they have both agreed that the right thing to do is to come clean and for them to be together. Yeah I know living in a dream world but dreams are important guys is what makes life tolerable.

Another theory I had is very similar to this one which is why I’m just going to put it in with it. Same kinda thing but instead of Betty freaking out because she found out about the video Jughead saw, it’s because they themselves recieved a videotape, of them kissing in Archie’s garage. I feel like whoever the new bad guy is they wanted Jughead to see that video. They wanted him to feel scared and threatened. In the same way I think that they might try and do the same thing to Betty and Archie. Letting them know that they were being watched and that this person knows their secret. Maybe they are having a little disagreement about whether to tell Jughead and Veronica about the kiss before the bad guy does. 

Out of the three theories, while I do think this one could be possible I think its the less likely one. I feel like Jughead might not tell Betty in the next episode about the video tape. They were arguing last episode and he might not want to upset her with it. But I could be totally wrong afterall sometimes dreams really do come true. 

The Flashback Theories

So these ones aren’t really about where I think Barchie will go from here but they were bopping around in my head so I figured why not mention them. So this is in regards to the flashback of them laying on the floor holding hands. There were actually two pictures of it going around. 

I did see some people talking about this, but if you play a game of spot the difference there is a very obvious change between the pictures. While the poses are the same and it looks like the same scene they are wearing completely different clothing. Now you could say that the reason for this is simply that they reshot the scene with them wearing clothes that were more similar to the scene with current Barchie. I mean you can’t deny the clothes are nearly identical. Lil Betty has on a longsleeved pink top under denim dungarees. Older Betty has on a pink long sleeved top with a denim dungaree style dress. Lil Archie is wearing a dark blue long sleeved top with dark jeans and older Archie is also in a blue top and black jacket with dark jeans. I do think this was done very deliberately so that the fade between the two scenes would work better but also to draw a parallel between the two scenes. So yes you could say that the scene was reshot. However I have another theory and it’s based off that scene when Archie gave Betty a really thoughtful secret santa. It was a read along record that Betty commented they used to listen to all the time. This made me think that this listening to records happened on multiple occasions and that it was a common thing for them to do back then. In the flashback pictures it is shown that they are listening to records. Which makes me think that they are actually wearing different clothes because they are from two different scenes. I actually think its possible we’re going to get a montage of lil Barchie and it’ll show us that Barchie used to lie on the floor like this holding hands often and that it was sort of their thing, it was a Barchie thing.

Betty Burns Her Diaries Theories.

So this is obviously about this picture. 

 It seems like Betty will be burning all her diaries. Again there’s a couple of theories on why she might be doing this. Again the most common theory I’ve seen going around is that Betty is tryng to burn away her feelings for Archie. I do think this a pretty good theory. But again I do have another one. We are making the assumption that her burning the diaries has something to do with Barchie. It might not though. I mean I don’t know when this scene takes place whether its in this episode or the one after. But what we do now is that its their final year at high school. They are coming up for some big changes in their lifes and its a time of transition for them. I actually think Betty could just be burning the diaries as a way of saying goodbye to the old her and preparing herself to embrace a new start as she moves onto the next stage of her life. I mean think about it, they’ve not exactly had the best of times in Riverdale, alot of bad things has happened to them over the years it could just be that Betty wants to let all the memories of those bad things go and move on from them. Part of the reason why I think this is because of the accompanying picture of Archie where he is at his Father’s grave. I can’t really see how this would be related to Barchie really unless he’s talking it all through with his dad as a way of making snese of it all. But the two scenes do give me similar vibes. I do think Archie is going through the same process. This chapter of his life is drawing to a close and he’s reflecting on the things he’s leaving behind, the things he’s lost and that’s taken him to his Father’s grave. I think we’ll get similar scenes with the other characters as well as we see them beginning to reflect. The future is looming and they are all saying goodbye to their pasts as a way of preparing for the future. I actually think this is most likely what they are going to be going for in this scene, after all as much as the show is about murder mysteries and all that it’s also about the teenagers at the center of the story. The only other reason I could think of other than the two already mentioned, for her burning her diaries is that there is some information in them that the new bad guy might try and use to blackmail them, so she burns them to get rid of the evidence but I’m not confident on that theory. Anyway thats it for now. Don’t know about you guys but I’m really looking forward to the next episode. 

[47pictures]

“Abysmal”

Link to original r/nosleep post:

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/o4mdi8/my_husband_and_i_checked_into_a_new_underwater/

______________________________________________________________

My husband and I are the first guests to check into a new underwater suite with a full glass display. Yet, all of the fish are missing… but I don’t think we’re alone down here, either.

“No peeking still,” my husband nagged, his hands still over my eyes as he guided me.

“How can I peek with your hands literally over my face,” I remarked. He chuckled.

After what felt like forever with him making sure I didn’t bump into anything up to the mystery destination, my husband Jackson assured me that we were finally there. Thank the Lord…

“Alright, open up!” he said as he unveiled his hands from my face.

Now that we were here, I felt the rush of excitement again, and a shy yet exuberant grin grew over my face as I slowly opened my eyes. Once they opened, however, they widened tenfold at the sight before me.

“Whoa,” I exclaimed.

Jackson chuckled. “Soooo, did I pick out a good birthday gift or what?” he teased.

It was truly a sight to behold. An underwater luxury hotel suite, with all the delicacies and comfort a guest could dream of, encased entirely in an underwater tank with a view to die for at nearly every angle. Undoubtedly, it was a great birthday gift.

“Baby, this is amazing,” I spoke. I turned to look at him. “I-I was just kinda joking when I said bring me the ocean if you could, you know?”

He and the usher who led us to the room with our luggage exchanged laughs.

“You should know by now I take almost everything you say literally,” Jackson said as he stepped my way, towering over me by merely two inches.

“Mmm-hmm,” I uttered through my smile, and we both leaned in for a kiss.

The usher awkwardly rolled our luggage over to the king-sized bed (really, it looked even bigger than king-sized) and neatly set them to the side.

“Happy birthday,” Jackson said.

“Thanks, Babe,” I replied, as we both went in for another kiss. Poor usher, I thought. I know it must’ve been awkward for him right about now.

“Um, sorry to break the moment,” the gentleman timidly noted, “But if you two would like, the kitchen staff has prepared a lovely four-course lunch, which should be about ready in the next 30 to 40 minutes?”

“Oh,” I uttered.

“Nice,” Jackson followed. “What do you think?” he asked me.

I gave him a crazy look. “Shit yeah,” I replied under my breath, but quite loudly. I noticed the usher, “Oops, I mean-”, clearing my throat, “Yes, my husband and I would love to attend,” changing my whole demeanor.

Me and him both chuckled like idiot children. That’s simply how we were together. Like children. Though, when it was time to be adults, I was usually the parent in the relationship. He was a messy eater, I used proper dining etiquette. He needed a haircut, I did it for him. He got bruised up or injured doing god knows what, I fixed him up. He wants to travel to a random city over the weekend, I do all the planning (except this time, to my surprise).

Jackson was smart - very smart… but dumb at the same time. He was like a golden retriever. Had lots of energy and charisma, always the center of everyone else’s attention, yet, he couldn’t hold his own to save his life. Very all over the place. In a way, however, that’s what I find attractive about him. His zest for life and a childlike curiosity outlasting his years. I liked to have my fun as well, don’t get me wrong. But I was more Virgo-like in my ways, even though I’m a Pisces myself.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lunch was held in the hotel’s center aquarium, giving us a full view of the ocean around us. Glass surrounded us with a bright blue luminescence as the sun reflected light through the large sea.

We were presented with a lovely four-course meal of seafood selections. Both of us got the seafood chowder as a starter. I got spicy Caribbean shrimp and he got oysters for appetizers. For the entrees, I got a nice big baked salmon, and Jackson got a huge lobster tail with a side of melted butter and mashed potatoes. It was all delicious, needless to say, and to top it all off, we had carb-packed tall slices of strawberry cheesecake. I could barely get up from the table after we were done.

After congratulating the head chef for such a fine meal, Jackson shot the question.

“Where are all the fish?” he asked.

It was one of those things I didn’t even think to ask, yet it was so obvious. Where were the fish? I didn’t know we were coming here until just a while ago. Had I not seen any pictures from the brochures in our room, I’d think this place didn’t have any fish at all. It was a good question.

“Ah, the fish,” the chef said. “They’re usually out most of the day and usually at night, they’ll obviously be harder to see and go elsewhere. But today must be one of those days where they’ll just… sorta hide.”

“Hide?” I remarked.

“Yes,” the chef replied. “Mostly from predators, if they’re around. But that’s strange, there usually aren’t any around. There’s the sharks, but even still, nothing that’s a serious threat to make the others leave.”

“There’s sharks here?” Jackson asked in a tone that I couldn’t tell was either amazed or afraid.

“Oh yes, a couple of them will show up from time to time. No great whites, or hammerheads, or anything crazy of the sort, but yes, there are a few.”

“Hmm,” Jackson uttered.

“Well, hopefully they turn up soon,” I added. “We gotta get some pictures, right Babe?”

I nudged Jackson at his side, to which he didn’t noticeably return much of a reaction.

“Mm-hmm,” he noised passively.

Maybe he was starting to get a food coma, too, and needed to lay down. I know I did. We’d gotten back to the room and done exactly that.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After a pleasant nap, I woke up to the magical view of the suite being illuminated with hidden LED lights outlining the bed, walls, and other pieces of large furniture. The room held a bright gold luminescence along with the now dark blue to almost pitch black abyss of the ocean. I wonder if that was something that could be turned off or it just stayed like that. Either way, I wasn’t complaining one bit.

Jackson woke up not too long after, and I barely saw him shuffle over to the bathroom in a hurry, as I was on my phone with my back turned. Was he sick?

“You all right, Babe?” I called to him.

“Yeah,” Jackson replied. “Had to piss.”

Oh, well that made sense. With that, I turned on camera mode for my phone, and began snapping random pictures, and was getting ready to do a panorama view. I had the lens set at one side of the room, starting at the edge of the first wide window, then began to drag across the room. I made it past the first window, then past the walls and door to the bathroom occupied by Jackson, then to the other side window, and was about to come around to the end of the last huge display behind me, until I noticed something through the lens.

I lowered my phone to get a look with my own eyes and saw that there was an enormous shadow of space outside the glass. It could’ve been the lack of sunlight reflecting down on that particular spot, but then I thought, was it really that dark already? It was only a half ‘til six, so it made sense for the water to be dark, but not that dark. The thing was, it stood out from the rest of the area like a sore thumb. You could still tell apart the ocean floor from other sections of the room, as well as the tiny rocks at the bottom. But over in this particular spot, it was near-total blackness. An abnormally large disquieting contrast in the area around it.

Maybe it was just a large rock structure. Like a fjord, maybe? No, those are like mountains or something, I think.

Then I heard the toilet flush. I waited for Jackson to come back out, but a couple of moments kept passing longer than expected. I was getting suspicious again.

“You sure you’re okay?” I called again.

“Yeah,” he answered.

It would make sense if he got sick from the food, perhaps. It was seafood, after all, and that among other recipes could have a tendency to make anyone’s stomach queasy if not properly prepared. But I didn’t have any issues so far. We ate nearly the same thing, as we picked from each other’s plates all the time.

I went ahead and gave him another minute, but as more time kept passing and I didn’t hear from him, I decided that was it.

“Hey, I gotta piss, too,” I announced, as I got up and started approaching the door.

No response. Then, a few seconds later, “Okay,” I heard him respond. Weird, I thought.

I slowly turned the knob and opened the door slowly, as not to budge right in. To my confusion, he wasn’t in the bathroom anymore at all. Huh?

“Jackson?” I called for him.

I looked across and saw that there was another door leading to a different room, or closet maybe? It was cracked open.

I went over and swung open the door to find a nice tidy compartmentalized space, the only room that wasn’t encased in glass, with Jackson loafing around. It had a nice window seat cushion that extended along the side of the walls of the entire room, and a circular window that simply showed the outside view of the ocean, which was also nearly pitch black as the shadow that cast over near the bedside window I’d a moment ago. Perhaps I was right. It was just large boulders or rocky structures blocking the light on those specific sides of the glass.

“You know this wouldn’t be a bad room to crash in,” he said, as he kept aimlessly searching around for something.

“I guess not?” I awkwardly replied.

“Could be a good place to do… other things, too, yeah?”

“It’s kind of a tight space, don’t you think?”

“We’ve managed with worse.”

“You know, there is a whole bed back there,” I said, pointing my finger to the door.

“Yeah…” Then his mind trailed off elsewhere before he looked at me again. “I’m done in the bathroom. You said you needed to go, right?”

I gave him a certain look. “I lied,” I answered. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he responded, but I knew when he was playing clueless.

“You’ve been acting kinda strange since lunch.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, we both know you’re strange as it is, but… earlier you seemed sort of all right, but now since the sun is starting to come down, I don’t even know.”

“True,” he said, still not actually paying attention as he was still searching around the room.

I was getting a little fed up. “What are you looking for?” I asked.

“Something to cover this window with,” he said. “Can we get seasick from this? You know, with us being underwater and everything?”

“… Maybe?”

“There’s nothing but towels and a bunch of useless crap in here - are there any like really big pillows out there in the bedroom?”

My gosh, he was acting strange. The obvious question came next.

“Why do you need to cover the window?” I asked.

“Because… I don’t want anyone spying on us,” he answered.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re underwater.”

“I noticed.”

“Who’s gonna spy on us? The fish? There aren’t any.”

“You don’t know, there might be people with submarines or something down here trying to capture a couple of lovebird guests having a good ole time down here to sell on the internet or who-knows-what.”

“Okay, one, I’m not fucking you in this room, and two, what is going on with you? You’re just acting so weird. What’s wrong?”

He looked around nervously, biting his lip like a child keeping a dirty little secret. Then, he finally fessed up.

“I have… thalassophobia,” he guiltily admitted.

“What?”

“Thalassophobia.”

“What’s that?”

“Fear of the ocean. Like deep water, all the shit that lurks in it, you know? Being stranded at sea, even. I’ve always been afraid of the water, babe. I tried to work on it, believe me, but nah. It’s just always been that one thing I can’t get over.”

I was dumbfounded. “Wh-” I started, trying to find where to even begin. “You have a fear of the ocean and you booked us an underwater hotel with literally a 360 view of open water?”

His face was red. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“Why?” I asked.

“‘Cause, it was for you. It wasn’t about me. I wanted you to be happy, and I wanted to get you something nice for your birthday, something I knew you’d love.”

It was one of the many sweetest things I’d ever heard him say that I almost forgot how dumb he initially sounded at this moment. I went over to him and gently cupped his face with both my hands, my back facing the window now and his facing the door.

“Okay,” I started, “Baby, you didn’t have to get me anything - though, I’m very grateful for all of this. And besides, I still don’t want you to be uncomfortable even if I’m not. We’re… you know, a marriage. A unity, or whatever. A team. I wouldn’t do something for you if I didn’t like it either.”

Jackson arched a brow.

“Okay, I didn’t mean for that to sound as bad as it did. Of course, I’d make sacrifices for you, too. But you get my point?”

Then I realized he wasn’t reacting to what I said at all, and was looking across the room past me towards the glass.

“The rock is gone,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” I uttered.

I turned to face where he was looking and saw what he meant. The black abyss of space beyond the glass was no longer there, and instead, we saw the faint blue glistening of the evening once again. Strange… it’d been black as night a moment ago, I thought. But Jackson said the same thing I was thinking. He, too, thought it was a rock.

I looked to him. “Tell you what, I’ll order us some drinks - you pick - and I’ll bring them back and we can just hang out here, okay?”

His face lit up with excitement again. “You don’t have to do that, Babe? Don’t let me ruin your b-day.”

“To me, it’s ruined if you’re not happy.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I’d gotten room service to order us a tray of varied alcoholic beverages (only under his card, Jackson insisted). Champagne, Moscato, Grey Goose, and a few other cocktails, along with some crackers and cheeses to go along. We hung out together in the small enclosed room with our backs facing the window atop a fortress of pillows I pulled from the master bedroom and threw into the other room. I even fulfilled his request to cover the window with other stacks of pillows and whatever else I could find so he wouldn’t have to look outside.

We cuddled in the pillow fort we’d made and watched a movie on his phone. Any other person might view this as a complete downer to their vacation, but for me, I actually enjoyed every second of it. We never usually partook in high-end sort of living activities, even with me thoroughly planning and making sure we budget down to a T, so they usually ended in us doing things like this instead where we much preferred the comfort of doing things the unconventional way, such as sleeping in another room aside from the bed on a stack of pillows. Plus, it made Jackson feel better, and he was usually always braver than me. For once, I saw a true vulnerability in him.

“We’ve been to the pool and stuff together,” I said.

“Mm-hmm,” he replied. He drank way more than me. He’d answer anything at this point.

“You didn’t seem scared then.”

“The pool isn’t scary, the ocean is. Remember though, I couldn’t go past six feet?”

Then I thought about it. He was right. He never went too far to the deep end of any pools we got in.

“Huh,” I expressed. “I never noticed ‘til now.”

We kept on watching the movie for a couple more seconds before I had the urge to ask more questions.

“What about it scares you the most?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I mean, a lot of things. Like the thought of how deep it is… you never know what could be down there - here. The feeling of being surrounded by a vast bunch of endlessness, and being so small…” He shivered with chills. “Yeesh. Fuck that.”

“Yeah, when you put it that way, that does sound pretty scary.”

“Nah, you love it. You and the ocean have a pact.”

“What?” I smiled.

“Admit it, you would love to be a little mermaid just swimmin’ along in the abyss, waving at seamen - haha, seamen - passing by on their little boats and just having a grand time-”

“Oh shut up!” I laughed.

“-Just floating around with your long red hair collecting seashells singing, ‘Unda da sea!’-”

“Whatever!”

“-Unda da seaaaa!”

He was hysterical, and we were both having a good time. At least he was enjoying himself now.

I had to get up and use the bathroom again. After doing so, I decided to go get my phone that I’d left on the charger from the bed. But when I stepped into the room, it was nearly pitch black. I couldn’t see a damn thing.

What happened to the LED lights? Did they automatically turn off by themselves? It’d be weird if they did, though, because it wasn’t at our discretion to do it ourselves, and who’s to say we still needed the light or not?

I decided to use the bathroom light by swinging the door wide open to let the rest seep into the room and illuminate. Now, I could discern where everything was, if only faintly.

I went over to the bedside and pulled my phone from the USB. 100-percent battery life. Nice. While I was over there, I also turned on the lamplight perched next to me, and saw that it emitted a bright enough radiance to fill the entire corner of the bedroom. Might as well leave it on.

Then a thought occurred to me to check on the vast space I’d spotted earlier through the window. It would be directly in front of me. So I lifted my head to take a look, and to my stupidity, of course, it was indistinguishable now at this time of night. Some hours had passed since I last saw it, making the entire perspective a dark blue tint.

Though I loved the ocean and all the creatures that inhabited it, after hearing Jackson’s opposing view on the subject, in a weird sense, I was now starting to get what he meant. The vast darkness of the underwater. The endless abyss. I could imagine how terrifying it must be to swim in such a colossal space with no sense of direction, no other object in sight. No way out…

And what made it more frightening, I think, wasn’t that the water was pitch black. No, it was the fact that it was nearly complete darkness, but not entirely. You could observe the murkiness of the depths shift from light blue to an uncanny shaded indigo. Were the shadows underneath simply an indication of how far the light could reach from above? Or, could it be that something waited - patiently - down below?

Geez, I could have quite the imagination when I got to thinking too much by myself. I was even getting scared at my own thoughts. But if anything, I could now sympathize with my husband’s dread.

I turned to walk back to the bathroom door when another thought struck me, stopping me in my tracks. The rock Jackson and I noticed earlier, or at least what we thought was a rock… wasn’t it black? Like, entirely black. Black as night? And we both thought we were seeing things, where the rock had suddenly moved and we couldn’t identify it anymore through the window of the back room. It was hard to say if it was a bad memory or the alcohol, but I could swear…

I went over to the telephone next to the bed and decided to call room service again.

“Hello?” the female clerk on the other line answered.

“Hi, yes, I was just calling because I noticed the lights in our room aren’t working anymore. Not the main lights for the lamp and bathroom and stuff, but for LED lights, you know?”

“Oh, I see. Yes, there’s a switch on the wall right next to the thermostat where you can turn them on. It has a knob where you can adjust the brightness, and another one that lets you change the color to whichever one you’d like also.”

I shifted my eyes over to where she was referring to and found exactly what she meant. I could’ve found that if I bothered to look first.

“Oh, I see it now,” I laughed. “I guess I’ll check and make sure it’s on or off.”

“Okay,” the clerk responded, sounding pleased. “But that’s strange. They normally stay on unless of course, the guests decide to shut them off or when they automatically shut off at sunrise.”

“Hmm… maybe there was just a short power outage?” I suggested, though, it was probably unrealistic.

“Could be,” the clerk fancied. “But either way, hopefully you and your husband can enjoy the lovely moonlight from above as well.”

I was confused. “Moonlight?” I said.

“Yes. From where your room should be, it’s placed in the perfect spot for the moon to be seen from the top of the glass.”

“Really?” I replied, very puzzled. I looked up to see if I could maybe notice it through the top. “I don’t see any-”

At the sight I was now witnessing, I felt every bone, every muscle, every nerve in my body turn cold. There was something on top of the glass. Not just on top, but engulfing the entire tank. Above were faint details of what I could only imagine was its mouth. It was circular almost, with rows of what looked like razor-sharp teeth getting smaller at the center.

“Hello?” the clerk said on the other line.

I couldn’t move. A sensation more than just fear overcame me. I was petrified. At this moment, I never felt so small.

Then, the creature began to shift its entire body away from the glass, sending a near-seismic rumble throughout the suite. I dropped the phone onto the floor, and I followed suit as I got down, raising my arms as an instinctual reaction to try and shield me from whatever was about to happen next - as if that would do anything. I was in the presence of something further up the food chain than myself. Further up than any other predator that I knew that walked or swam the face of the earth.

As it released its grip from off the glass, shapes of monstrous tentacles began to flail about, leaving behind a powerful swooshing noise through the water, along with a resonant sound that the only way I could describe it as is something that couldn’t be replicated. Not on this planet. It was deafening, earth-shattering, like something from a different world.

MuuuUUUuuuuuh

MuUUUuuuUUUUUUUuuh

It was so alien-like. It seemed to be coming from the thing itself. So powerful, even more so than the call of a blue whale or the roar of an earthquake. It was truly one of the loudest sounds I’d ever heard.

Suddenly, pure blackness no longer surrounded the view, as shades of the natural lighting of the ocean floor began to form again, and instantaneously, a white glow emitted from the glass ceiling. There it was. The moon. It had been there the whole time… and so had this thing.

As the creature rose higher away from my view, I was starting to get an even better look at its size. I still couldn’t even grasp its entire shape. It was huge. A behemoth of an unknown force lurking down here, waiting to be discovered.

I was amazed, astonished even, but not in a positive manner. The same sensation kept overtaking me as I began to curl up into a ball next to the bed. The sensation that I’d never felt so small…

I planned on staying there and hiding under the bed until it was gone. Then I’d be safe. But Jackson…

I got up and immediately ran towards the bathroom and over into the other room, shutting the door behind me. He was still lying against the pillows watching the movie on his phone, not noticing a thing about what lies beyond the glass. I couldn’t have been the only one to hear it, I thought.

“Baby,” I panicked.

He looked at me, concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asked. I guess he didn’t hear what I did after all.

But I couldn’t tell him, I thought. I was already scared as it was, but telling him might be catastrophic, and he’d never want to leave this room.

“I-I…” I stammered. “… I saw something.”

It just came out. What was I supposed to do, lie?

“What?” he said, now growing nervous as I was. Fuck, why did I do that?

“Th-There was something outside the glass, um…” Then I realized, I hadn’t told him the whole truth. “A shark or something. Like, a big shark.”

Jackson arched his brow, like he always did when he thought I was crazy.

“Are you pranking me?” he asked, his whole demeanor changing from worried to a perky suspicion.

I was dumbfounded. “Huh?” I said, still in a state of clear panic.

“I thought you loved sharks? Go play with your new friend,” he joked.

Without a doubt, the alcohol took the edge off of him from earlier, but he had no idea just how serious I was. Maybe that was a good thing, but right now, I needed both of us to leave this room asap.

I kneeled in front of him, looking him in the eye.

“Listen, I don’t wanna be in here right now. I’m getting… claustrophobic,” I lied. “Let’s just go to one of the lounges and hang out there for a bit where there’s no open water outside to look at, okay?”

He still wasn’t buying it. I’d be skeptical, too, if I were him. I never expressed fear of any sort in regards to the ocean. Even all the scary creatures he feared that swam in the sea, I took a liking to. But not that thing. Not that thing that waited outside…

“Your acting never fails to impress me, dear-

“Jackson!” I snapped.

He turned straight-faced again. I never snapped at him like that before. He knew I was serious this time.

“You’re serious,” he said. I nodded.

“Just put on your pants and let’s go,” I insisted. “I-I’ll cover your eyes so you don’t have to see out there when we cross the room.”

“Okay…”

He got up and started to put his hands on.

“By the way,” he started, “Did you hear something a minute ago? Or was it just the movie?”

“Hear what?” I asked, a noticeable fear in my voice.

“Well I don’t know, I thought I heard something, like a loud rumbling noise. Thought it came from the movie, but then I was like, there’s no way, because-”

MuUUUuuuUUUUUUUuuh

We both felt it rumble down in our feet and up to our rib cage, and stared at each other for a moment. Aware of precisely the same thing now, Jackson whispered under his breath, “Honey… what was that?”

Suddenly, the rumble sounded again, and was followed by both of us losing balance on both of our feet, and we both began to stumble. We both struggled to hold on to each other while simultaneously trying to grab onto the wall for support. Jackson managed to clutch one of the beams sitting atop the wall, and his strength alone was enough to hold both of us. I held onto him for dear life as the suite kept violently shaking.

His back was to the window as my arms hooked around him for balance. But I could see ahead that the barricade of pillows we’d put up on the window had now fallen, leaving the glass open for a full display of the outside. And to my confusion, I couldn’t see anything beyond it. It wasn’t a dark blue or black tint this time, but instead, a bright yellowish shade that now covered the window.

The rumbling had now stopped, and it was quiet as a mouse.

“You okay?” Jackson asked.

I didn’t say anything. I was too fixated on the window. Why was it that color? It’s like we shifted into a different environment altogether. Like a whole new backdrop.

“What the hell?” I muttered.

“Hmm?”

He turned to what I was perceiving and shared the same confusion. It was a strange sight indeed. Then we saw a black circle shift from nowhere and down into different corners of the circular window. The direction of the circle bounced randomly from corner to corner as if it were a corrupted game of Pong, until finally sitting dead center on the glass, facing us.

I felt a sick sensation in my gut, and Jackson’s jaw dropped in terror at the realization of what we were now both seeing. It was an eye… and it saw us.

MuUUUuuuUUUUUUUuuh

The sound rumbled the whole area again.

“Go, go!” Jackson shouted, trying to lead us both out of the room, and we did just that.

We’d crossed into the bathroom when the lights cut off. There was darkness again. We were blind to the lack of light as we both tripped into each other, him almost knocking me down completely. I grabbed onto what I could only guess was the sink as Jackson quickly grabbed me to keep me from falling.

“You all right?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell is that thing?” His voice trembled.

“I don’t know,” I cried.

We needed to get ahead into the room and out into the main lobby and let someone know what was going on. But the lamp I’d left on in the bedroom ahead was out, too. Otherwise, there’d be some lighted path for us to distinguish. It was pure darkness. The only faint light, if any, came from the dark hue of the water surrounding us.

I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight to lead us.

“C’mon,” I demanded.

Jackson followed closely behind with his arms still over me for protection. Though, I’m sure it was more for him than it was for me. I could only imagine…

We raced through the bedroom and for the door in a matter of seconds. But in that time, we caught a glimpse of the outside. It was a nightmare. Just an endless void of murky dark water that appeared to stretch for an eternity. We were two small, meaningless creatures in the center of the vast universe.

When we got to the door, I turned the knob and pulled back without hesitation, as Jackson reached over and helped by yanking it back into the wall, and we both hauled ass out of there. In the halls, the lights were out as well. No source of illumination anywhere except the faint moonlight protruding the ocean’s horizon. Like the suite, the halls were made entirely of glass like a giant walkthrough tube to behold the ocean life exterior.

“Which way is it?” I anxiously asked.

“Here,” Jackson said, pointing down to the left corridor.

He and I made our way down the halls, but slowly this time. Something outside caught our eye. Indescribable. Countless dark silhouettes of fish. Hundreds of them. The ones that had been gone earlier were now all here for us to see beyond the glass. However, something was wrong.

The way in which they swam didn’t align in a fluid horizontal motion. Some of their bodies were positioned diagonally, vertically, and in a strange sense, seemed to be floating rather than swimming…

Then the realization hit me. They weren’t swimming at all. They were dead. Lifelessly drifting in the water down to us.

“Jesus,” Jackson gasped.

“L-let’s just keep moving,” I said, trying to be brave.

Then to our left, the creature emerged from below, its massive tentacles and fins rising into view, its bright yellow eyes glaring into us. The hall began to shake as the earth-shattering rumble sounded throughout the structure.

Without hesitation, the two of us raced down the hall to reach the next corridor that would eventually get us to the lobby. We just needed to make it. Where that thing could no longer see us.

All throughout the long glass tube, it followed from the outside. But not like a predator chasing its prey, but in an unsettlingly forbearing nature, as if it knows its place in the animal kingdom hierarchy. We were no challenge for it. It wanted to taunt us. It knew…

We’d managed to run down to the lobby and thankfully, one of the clerks was still there at the counter, likely the one I’d spoken to earlier on the phone. The woman saw us in our state of panic and immediately stood up to ask what was the matter. We told her of the creature that was terrorizing us, to which she was understandably struck by. We even told her about the fish we’d seen that were now regurgitated from the monster. It was hard to say if she bought our story or not, but based on her facial expressions, she innately knew we were dead serious.

The two of us refused to spend another night in that room. We asked if there were any other rooms available that didn’t involve windows of any sort, or better yet, any that were at the surface, but truly, Jackson and I both wanted to get the hell out of this place.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A couple of hotel staff offered to take our belongings out of the room and personally hand them over to us in the main lobby, as the clerk informed us that there was a vacancy in the only other room available at the top above the water, on top of the fact that neither one of us agreed to enter that hellish fishbowl again.

In our new more relaxing suite on the surface of the land, it’d taken a while for either one of us to fall back asleep. Jackson, in the shock of it all and for good reason, had taken it harder than me. I lied there with him in bed and stayed until he felt comfortable to drift off.

At some point in the night, I’d got up to peer out the window, which gave a view of the ocean’s horizon under the full moon. Any other day, I’d find the sight to be an ethereal beauty, not one to literally die for. What was supposed to have been a beautiful day for the two of us, at the expense of Jackson going out of his way to try and make me happy, was now ruined by the untethered force of nature that resided beneath.

I began to quietly sob, as not to wake Jackson from his slumber, my vision becoming blurred from the muddiness of tears.

But as I looked down again at the ocean below, I could sense that somewhere in my line of sight, it waited. And with a startling revelation that haunted me from when we first looked the creature in its eye, there was an undeniable fact that it knew.

It knew…