#i guess its pretty recent though so maybe as time goes on things will become easier for me to access (somewhat) comfortably

[strawb3rrym1lkblog]

sometimes I wish I was capable of getting into horror media because some of the things I see look genuinely interesting but I just get scared too easily unless I'm like watching a youtuber play a horror game or something

[fictionstudent]

Novels are not movies.

Visual media has taken on the world by storm. It’s the next big thing in the evolution of humanity, maybe. It’s quite certainly changed the way we entertain ourselves. And with the recent spread of short-form content, visual media has also become cheap, disposable, and easily accessible to the masses—perfect recipe to make a product famous.

Alright, I’ve been a little too dramatic, lol. But for real, I’m one of those who’s severely addicted to Instagram Reels. Whenever I’m done scrolling, I feel like I’ve completely wasted my time—I could have read a novel, watched a movie, or caught up with my favorite mangas. But instead of all those ways to relax—and believe me (pwlease) that I only open Insta to relax, when I’m free—I just waste my time.

I love my novels and manga, mind ya, so when I catch myself wasting precious time that I could have instead used to consume them, I cuss myself. And then I go scroll some more Insta, because I’m an absolute idiot.

Anyway, back to the topic. Visual media has absolutely taken over our lives. I won’t go into the debate of whether this is a good thing or not, but we all can agree that it’s an undeniable fact. Video is everywhere.

Because—and lemme repeat myself—it’s cheap, disposable, and easily accessible today.

And because of such exposure to video storytelling, beginning authors forget that novels are not a visual medium. Yep, here goes my rant.

***

#01 - The Problem

The problem is simple—these kids have too much access to their smartphones. And these smartphones are filled with videos, like a dustbin with its lid hanging on because of all that garbage overfilling it. (Damn, I sound like a boomer.)

And therefore, when these new authors begin writing, they can’t help but imagine a sort of movie or a TV show as their story. And that’s where the problem is—novels are not supposed to be movies.

Movies are a visual media. That means they’re composed of pictures. Images. But guess what novels are composed of?

Text. Words.

It seems pretty basic. I mean, everybody knows this distinction. But what they don't know, however, are the implications of this distinction.

Personally, I began writing with film-novels too. And those novels are bad. Genuinely. I cringe at the fact that I could even mail editors and believe they’d accept them. Good thing they never did.

What’s a film-novel, though? Well, the idea is pretty clear—it’s a novel, but imagined in the form of a film. So, it’s like a film, but in text.

It’s like you’ve written the film as a novel, instead of writing it as a screenplay or something, maybe.

But you’d ask me—why? Why is it even a mistake? Everybody has a different writing style. And to that, I’d tell you one thing—the audience. The audience is different. The media is different. You can’t expect a cinephile to read your book. And since it’s not like a professional novel, a (Googles the correct term) bibliophile certainly won't.

So, who’s gonna read your story?

No one—because it’s neither a film, nor a novel. It’s a film-novel, an illogical mix of the two.

Everyone drinks water, and everyone likes ice-cream. But you can't… No, I’m not even completing that sentence. Ew.

Anyway, you get the idea, lol.

***

#02 - Identify

So, what does a film-novel even look like?

And for that, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you,

The lean figure was standing on the other side of the railing three floors up on the ground of the school building where children below were shouting and kicking football upon each other, wearing white football jerseys. The figures, as they ran all over the ground, seemed very small as I looked at them. The goalkeeper of the right side, who was just beneath my white shoe, kicked the ball so hard that it flew in air and went directly to the other foot of mine. The other players shouted “Whoaaa!” as they saw the ball flying. But suddenly, two of them looked upwards and saw me. One of them pointed towards me and then shouted, “Hey, who’s he?!” All the other players started walking towards that boy who was in the middle of the field with their heads tilted up above on me. Another one shouted, “Hey! What’cha doin’, eh?!” My narrow eyes, which had dark spots beneath them, looked at the boys from behind my spectacles. I then moved my head a little up and saw my shiny gakuran jacket fluttered by my shiny yellow colored buttons as the wind started blowing from my left side. I was able to feel the wind dancing upon my soft skin as I closed my eyes and turned my head upwards. I took a deep breath, and then exhaled it out with my mouth. I then again took a breath. This time, when I exhaled it out with my mouth, I was able to feel the saliva of my mouth upon my lips. I tilted my head and turned towards my arm, which was trembling a little. Both of my hands were still holding the railing of the school’s rooftop. I then turned left and then looked on my other arm. “Hey! Get down!” One of the persons from beneath shouted. I turned my narrowed eyes towards the ground, the teachers, a large gang of footballers and students, and some even workers had gathered in a circle. I turned my head towards the front. I looked at a couple of brown colored and blue-green colored houses in front of me, which stood high and mighty. Beneath them was the clear blue sky.

A wall of text!

Warning: you don’t really need to read all of it. But you probably did, lol.

Anyway, it’s the opening scene from one of my first novels. And, as much as I hate to say this—it’s pretty sh*t. It has a lot of problems—no paragraph divisions, for example, as well as a lot of grammatical mistakes too. But the biggest problem with the text is that it’s just images.

Reading this text, I dare you to highlight one single sentence that might tell you anything about the narrator.

The narrator is narrating the motions, not the emotions.

(Damn, that was a dope line to say, man.)

The narrator is only telling you about the images and actions and dialogues and thoughts. Even though it’s in first-person POV, you feel distant from the narrator. And, even in third-person POV, authors are supposed to make sure the distance between the narrator and the reader remains at a minimum.

That’s how you get a film-novel—that’s filled with scene-descriptions, actions, and dialogues. There’s no narrations in it. The readers don’t know the thoughts of these characters.

***

#03 - Is it really a problem, though?

Well, you might ask me—is it really such a big problem?

Heck yeah.

The reason is pretty simple, actually—no one wants to read a film-novel. These novels are filled with only descriptions and actions—that’s too much of mental effort. these novels make their readers keep on imagining stuff, and no reader wants to do that.

Because it’s easier to look at pictures than to imagine them based on text. And that’s why your film-novels won’t work.

See, you need to understand this—novels are different than film. Sure, novels are a form of storytelling too, and they do include visual effort, such as descriptions, action, and all that. But, all that is not the main selling point of a novel.

The main selling point of a novel is the emotions. Emotions captured in words, in situations—caught in context like a butterfly in a child’s hand. Films can display emotions, but novels put those emotions into words.

Narration is what forms the greatest part of a novel. Narration is where a novel actually shines. Narration is what the readers come to read.

And, as you could guess, films don’t narrate. Consider this,

And rain made him feel like crying. He gulped down, trying to keep the lump of his throat in check. He couldn’t cry in the middle of so many other kids. They’ll ask questions, and what will he say to them, huh?

He was sorry.

For what?

For everything he did. And for everything he didn’t.

The day had just begun. It’d be long before it ends, y’know. He just couldn't wait for it to end. There was no lifting up his mood. Not until tomorrow.

How do you display this in a film? The answer—you can't. However hard you try, you can't.

Such narrations are where the art of novels shine. Such narrations are what differentiates a novel from a visual media.

***

#04 - Is it really a problem, though? (pt.ii)

All this talk constantly reminds me of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. It’s a literary achievement and really experimental in a lot of stuff that it does. For example, the novel has no dashes or apostrophes—and it’s not like these punctuation marks were not needed, they’re just not used. So, you’d find a lot of grammatical mistakes throughout the text.

And also, one thing that McCarthy ignored—and that’s relevant to the discussion we’re having—is that there’s literally zero narration. Zero.

McCarthy adopts a style that’s similar to a third-person POV, and is kinda like how I used to write when I was little—just with paragraphs and better scene-descriptions and action-descriptions. A lot better, as you can observe if you read his work.

Anyway, he didn’t have any narrative elements in his text. So the readers don’t really know what these characters are thinking or planning to do. They just know that these characters are somehow surviving.

I don’t wanna give away most of the plot of the novel, but the basic premise of the novel is that there’s a father-son duo who’s been caught in this apocalypse-type situation, and are traveling down the road to the south part of the country to escape the harsh winters that the north experiences. The novel doesn’t reveal a lot—the readers don’t know the names of these characters, the thoughts of the characters are hidden most of the time, and you don’t know what actually happened that most of humanity is dead and society is completely gone.

Now, McCarthy did it for a reason. A scarcity of punctuation marks reflects a form of scarcity in the scenery around them. Because most of it is, well, gone. Humanity is gone, and stuff is decaying. You don’t find fresh food anymore. Scavenge all you want—one day, all the canned food will expire, and there will be nothing to eat. Except fruits and veggies, that need to be grown somewhere. And nobody likes the latter, honestly.

And the scene-descriptions are so tough to read. They’re an actual pain. I have had a really hard time deciphering most of it, because the vocab is too high, and probably the sentences do not flow into each other easily. I can’t say anything about the sentences if I don’t understand them, y’know.

But, man, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe that’s why McCarthy wrote the descriptions in this way—to symbolize the mental stress that the characters go through as they experience this world, this form of reality that they were not meant to be in.

And maybe the novel is so lacking in narrations because the characters’ minds have gone numb. They’re forgetting language. With almost zero human interaction most of the time, they are forgetting how to think and interact in words. You lose the skills you don’t really use anymore, y’know. And these guys are so obviously depressed, so they don’t think about the world. They are used to the sad reality they live in. No point in complaining how bad the food is if that’s all you’re gonna eat all your life.

So, a scarcity of narrations tell you a lot about the story and its characters. It reflects something, it symbolizes something. The Road is a masterfully crafted piece of prose, please don’t get inspired to write in this style just because. This style won’t work on most of the stories.

Yeah, just because he wrote like this means you can too. Let me tell you, dear reader, that all of what we call rules are meant to be broken. Nothing is absolute. But here’s the catch—you can’t break the rules just because you don’t know how to apply them.

Authors need to learn these rules, because that’s what constitutes most of the written prose. That’s what forms the basics of the craft. So, learn them, understand them, and know how to use them. And then make a conscious decision not to use them.

See, these rules are like tools or weapons in your arsenal. And you need to keep your arsenal ready for everything. And then, you can decide which weapon to use, when to use it, and how to use it. Because you don’t know what sort of idea hits your head next and you’d suddenly need some of them.

***

#04 - Solution

So, how to make sure your novel actually comes off as a novel and not a film-novel? Unfortunately, the answer to that question… is that I don't know.

I know this sounds so absurd, but it is what it is. As someone who’s so recently started studying prose, I know this problem exists, but I still don’t know how to fix it. You could say I know my novels are film-novels, and I’m trying to fix it. But I, personally, am having a lot of trouble with it.

However, one way I can recommend is to write from your character’s POV, not your POV. You probably imagined your story as a film, but that’s now how you’re supposed to write it. Get into your characters’ head, see what they’re seeing, and write that.

But it’s tough. For me, at least. I always find myself going back to my old ways, and I think I need to re-write almost all of my scene-descriptions and actions because of it.

Lol, how ironic.

***

Conclusion

Yeah, and that’s it. I hope you liked this blog. Sorry I hadn’t posted in along while, I was going through a writers’ block. Stuff is happening these days, y’know.

Anyway, I’ll see you again in a couple of days, with something new. Bye-byee!

[butwhatifidothis]

I LOVED To Be a Creature, and it genuinely creeped me out to see the things Edelgard and Hubert said to Byleth (though it's the same as the game, stripped out of its voice acting and background music, the dialogue is so much more horrifying). Really makes me wonder if Edelgard's love for Byleth is genuine in any way. Do you think there's any real love there or is it just obsession?

Thank you!!! I had a feeling that placing Edelgard and Hubert's words in a context that isn't meant to make them look flattering would really let their casual racism shine, and I'm glad it's seeming like that is in fact the impression people are getting lol. SO sorry for the late answer btw 😭😭😭

As for whether Edelgard's love is genuine... I got opinions lmao.

got a bit long lmao under the cut it goes

If Edelgard felt the way she does for Byleth on exclusively SS and CF, I could maybe see how this is a "genuine" love (insofar as a love steeped in "I may hate your race but you're special and Not Like The Other Ones because I think you're special to me" can, uh, ever be genuine, in any case). But because Edelgard still feels as strongly towards Byleth on AM and VW where she quite literally never talks to them directly in any meaningful way, it becomes waaaaay more like she's just weirdly obsessed with this person who saved her one singular time ever five years ago from an attack Edelgard set up. It makes the "love" way more forced and contrived and obviously trying to squeeze tears out of the player for standing up against the cute girly trying to murder them. Or, alternatively, it makes Edelgard come off as manipulative, saying that she just wanted to walk with Byleth and it makes her so sad to HAVE to fight Byleth because BYLETH wouldn't stand by HER - and she's saying this on AM/VW to a person she's talked to in conversation a cumulative, what? Hour? Two? Maybe a few days, being nice? Over the course of, being as absolutely generous as physically possible and not counting the five years Byleth was missing... two fucking years? She's shitting herself over fighting this stranger she doesn't fucking know? Yeah, sure buddy, whatever you say - you see what I mean?

And honestly even outside of those two routes, I think it's more that she sees Byleth as being hers rather than actually liking them for who they are. A body to stand next to her and tell her how right she is and comfort her - who doesn't have the background of "I was literally raised to think this is my only purpose in life" muddying the sincerity of the brown-nosing - who also happens to also act as The Perfect Fighter and The Perfect Strategist to actively help her get what she wants. That view of Byleth being a tool doesn't really go away unless they marry her, seen by how they quite literally get nothing for all they've done for Edelgard should they go unmarried to a noble (guess they just weren't meritable enough once their use to her was done).

As well as how much more Edelgard doesn't like Byleth disagreeing with her or otherwise going against her flow than pretty much anyone else in the game - you lose supports points if you don't think the Black Eagle Strike Force name she made is good, she quickly denies the notion that Byleth isn't detached from others/emotions and insists they are just like she is, she gives them the same callous and thoughtless words she was apparently given once in her life while they are in the midst of mourning their recently murdered father so that they get over it already and get back to being useful to her (directly saying she will only reach out her hand when it's time for HER to move forward, not when BYLETH heals from WATCHING THEIR DAD DIE IN THEIR FUCKING ARMS MAYBE A WEEK AGO). She never treats Byleth kindly unless they do everything she wants, which like. Isn't love???? At all????

There's just this... weirdly possessive air Edelgard has around Byleth that always threw me off, especially with how easily she admits to have been willing to kill them so far into CF and how readily she cuts ties with them the second the fighting's done (which is particular because how just how clingy she was to Byleth everywhere else - you know during all that time Byleth had a use to her). Incorporating that into being an intentional part of her character is certainly interesting, but not in a way that's flattering to the idea of Edelgard genuinely being in love with Byleth lmao.

Personally tho, even disregarding almost everything else, the simple explanation is that I don't think you can really sit there and say you love someone while openly hating part of their racial heritage. Wild thought, I know lmao

[sharffffff]

Eyoo! Since it looks like the poll is gonna get canceled, I just wanted to give you a salute, my friend! We both spent way too much time on that!

Anyways, gonna start to watch Lifesteal in the new year. Anything I should know as a newbie going in? Or an inside joke I won't get until I watch it and then can go "Hey, my Nemesis said that! :D" ?

Salute to you to! I guess the poll did end in victory or death - death of the poll itself o7

As for watching lifesteal, the most important thing you have to know is that if you watch lifesteal videos and not streams: lifestealers lie to you. They lie to you so much. Recent roshambo video is the greatest example there isn't a single true thing he said throughout its entirety and every single event that occurred in it is peppered with lies <- exaggeration but also not. So never buy anything told to you in a lifesteal video as a truth, because while it can be, youtube!ls is a whole AU lmao

If you are watching streams - good fucking luck. I had to watch like 65 s6 Zam vods to catch up to the current day because I only joined this fandom late September, and man. I thought I could skip some of them but nope, this man can drop some bone-shattering painful conversation or even a monologue in a middle of 12 hour grinding stream and you would never know otherwise. And the further into the season it goes, the more filled with lore the vods become. Like last two vods especially had so much emotional damage to me, even though one of them was built off s4 events that I hadn't even watched, man. It was insane.

But to ease your burden: you don't have to watch every pov. Watching more than one pov helps with understanding things and now that I'm caught up I usually watch everyone that's live when they're live, but watching just Zam worked for me pretty well while I was catching up to modern day. Like yeah it certainly gives you a bias towards your pov, but that's a-ok! Lifesteal isn't about who's a good person it's about who's your favorite war criminal!

For inside jokes I have No Fucking Clue. Probably "win condition baconnwaffles0" for this season but I am not kidding when I say I didn't even watch lifesteal until late september and I only started being active in lsblr like a month ago. Maybe less. I am the most lurker of all lurkers I did not exist in fandom until very very recently and I have no idea what the jokes here are. I'm just here for the ride.

Oh wait, probably "is he an ai robot" as the biggest thing of s6. That shit was so funny they were so perplexed. "Why does he have an unenchanted shield is he an ai robot?" and much later on "We both have FerreMC on our accounts at the same time!" just to make fun of certain overly paranoid ppl lmao

And, of course, "did you build an orbital strike cannon" whenever the server lags. How can I forget that.

[alpaca-clouds]

Should we bring back the dinosaurs?

I spoke about gene editing yesterday and about species going extinct the day before. So let us lighten the mood a bit and bring both topics together: Let's talk about dinosaurs and wooly mammoths!

We are actually getting surprisingly good with that gene tech thingie, even though you hear not so much about it most of the time. But yeah, no, we are actually getting pretty good at it and at understanding what certain genes are doing.

And at least with the wooly mammoth we have found some DNA frozen in the ice. While we do not have a complete genum for them, we have a bit of it. And we are actually technically speaking able to re-engineer quite a bit from elephant DNA.

Same goes with the dinosaurs. No, we probably aren't finding mosquitos with blood that still holds DNA. But we have some bird species that are descendents of certain dinosaurs. Consider the mighty chicken, that has kinda sorta descendet from the velociraptor. (Also, yeah, news flash, dinosaurs are closer related to birds, than they are to reptiles.)

Like, some guy playing around with CRISPR has managed to give a chicken teeth. So, yeah, we might actually be able to re-engineer some dinosaurs. No T-Rex, no brontosaurus and no triceratops. But some dinosaurs? Certainly a posibility. Not right now, but in twenty, thirty years? Probably not off the table.

But that brings us to Jeff Goldblum Ian Malcolm:

Should we do that? Should we bring back mammoths or dinosaurs?

Let me make one thing clear: No, they probably will not start reproducing uncontrolably and then turn against humans in a more drastic way than any other animal might do. Sure, they could become an invasive species........ but they probably won't, because the earth they have once inhabited was so different from today, that they could very certainly not survive. Especially not the mammoth.

So, yeah. No Jurassic Park and no T-Rex running through New York or whatever happend in Jurassic Park 3.

Nah. There are other reasons not to do it.

And those reasons are simple: What for? Why do we want to bring back dinosaurs or mammoths? Sure, it would be cool to see a living, breathing dinosaur (even if it was just a velociraptor) or a mammoth. But... what good would come from it? Why do not invest all those ressources that it would take to do that into something... more useful? Something that is actually bringing science forward. Because, guess what: No, Alan, even if we brought back the brontosaurus, the revived brontosaurus would not tell us, whether or not the species moved in herds 150 million years ago!

And, of course, there would be just the animal welfare aspect. Because whatever animal we would bring back from the dead would probably have a very, very shitty life. It would be kept in a zoo, not be allowed to do its animal things. Would be part of a lot of science. It would just suck for those animals.

With actual living animal species, we can have long discussions about the pros and cons of zoos. But we will never rewild the mammoth. We should not rewild the mammoth. Because it does not have any habitat left. Same for any dinosaur.

So, I am with Jeff Goldblum on this one. Maybe we just... should not do it.

(Even though bringing back species that we as humans drove to extinction in recent history would be an entirely different story.)

[shaampoo]

*Bams the door down*

Hello!

Tell me about your ocs please! All the random facts! Well not technically all, just some of them, you get what I mean. XD

I Want To Know More!

And also how's you been? And what do you think about everything that exists? =>

Random facts time!!!

Ill try to list them in order of like, my first OC to my most recent OC's

Jinx first!!!

Jinx was once turned into a cat by the villains, and Jinx was pretty chill about it really, they loved knocking stuff over at the villain base, and since the villains thought they was just turned into a cat, no JInx inside, they just assumed it was normal cat behavior

Jinx is a magpie, like they LOVE shiny stuff, like, once, the heroes and villains were fighting over an ancient artifact, who gets it, the heroes want it so that they know the villains cant abuse it, and the villains want it for power, and then Jinx just ups and steals it just cause its shiny

Jinx has a twin brother Aegis, hes the opposite of Jinx, a hero, no-nonsense, his powers is to create shields, i made him after i made Jinx, but using the base i made for Jinx

Aegis is Bisexual and up for poly btw (i even thought about making him date the leader of the heroes and the leader of the villains just for the shits and giggles,)

Jinx lives with their brother (Aegis is older by 2 minutes ["best 2 minutes of my life" lol], cause their parents kicked Jinx out at 18, and Aegis was disgusted by that, so he lived with Jinx

Jinx didnt get much attention as a child, so that's why they're what they're like today, he has flair, a loud voice, just so that they get attention,

also, Jinx had to mostly fend for themself as a child, and they were given almost no supervision, since their parents gave Aegis more attention and training, believing that AEgis was more fit to be a superhero, so Jinx could do whatever, really, so they ate a lot of candy, thus giving themselves a sweet tooth. This is also why Jinx is childish, they wasn't allowed to be a child back then so their allowing themselves to be a child

Also, im starting to wonder if Jinx does have a label on what side they're on, like, anti-heroes, to my research, do bad things for good. Anti-villains do good things for bad stuff, so I don't know if Jinx does have a side, cause they just do their own thing, sometimes joining the villains, sometimes joining the heroes, sometimes being an annoyance to both, so like, they're undecided i guess?? (Kinda like they're gender, it switches lol) Lemme look something up real quick...i guess JInx is like a rogue?

Also, Jinx, having no side, maybe has a lair of their own, a small one though, I've been thinking maybe a candy shop? Like, there's a basement of operations down there, and there's a candy shop up top?

Also, Jinx is Chaotic Lawful (or lawful chaotic), where they have a moral code, no one knows what it is though, but thank goodness its there

At first, i wanted to make Jinx have a double life as Casey, but then the more i thought about casey and their stories, it kinda spiraled into casey becoming their own character,

Now, onto Casey!!! Doing this cause he inspired a TON of characters

Caseys a trans man (aka ftm,), and has transitioned now.

He's a tired photographer and journalist (online), goes to college, engineering, he lives with his brother, Ryan Thompson (or Velocity as his hero name), also lives with his brother

Casey is Ryans adopted little brother, Caseys parents are Lady Luck and Mr. Misfortune (idk if i should give him siblings he was separated from)

So pretty much Casey has terrible and Amazing luck, they don't cancel each other out

This is pretty much where chaos happens around casey, but casey somehow gets out unharmed, which is great for his Photography and Journalism blog cause he usually stumbles into super fights!

Also, Caseys like, the go-to kidnapping victim for the villains, where they kidnap him a lot (they don't hurt him, cause i think I'm leaning more into comedy in my world ), and the heroes save him a lot, this led to him knowing a lot about both sides, also, once, Casey got out of his binds when the villains kidnapped him and left him, and instead of escaping, he takes pictures of the lair first, and gets out, and then proceeded to post the pictures and compliment the villain's style.

Also, Casey usually doesnt talk, mostly to people he doesn't know that much, if he's with Ryan or anyone he's really comfortable with, he will not shut up, showing them pictures, stuff he made using engineering, etc.

Also, every character inspired by Casey (like, they first started out as, haha, what if Casey was ___) has a white streak on their hair, so if you see an OC of mine with a white streak, you know what that means!

Now, Dr. Wilde!!

As you know, Dr. Wilde is a crazy scientist!

Dr. Wilde allows Lumi to call him Ezra (at first Lumi called him Dr. Ezra, but as they got more close Lumi started to call him Ezra, like a friend)

Casey has interviewed Dr. Wilde at some point, and even took pictures of his lab, and Casey has taken care of Tar once (picturing Tar and uploading to the internet how weird the rat is, and that once, the rat got in the oven while Casey was baking and it somehow survived)

Dr. Wilde has dyed Tar's fur a bit (haven't decided what color yet), just so that he can differentiate between the lab rats and Tar

Dr. Wilde's lab is right next to his room (which is like a house, having a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, etc.),

Dr. Wilde rarely leaves his lab / room, as he isn't really interested in the outside world, and when he does leave, he brings Tar with him, and Tar is just perched over Dr. Wilde's shoulder

Dr. Wilde is pretty short, compared to other villains (i should make a height chart actually), where the villains tower over him

Dr. Wilde has green eyes, also, if you look at him, he WILL stare into your soul, no one has ever seen him blink,

Now, Onto Darian Knight / Eclipse!!

As you can see, Darian is inspired by casey,

Darian, at first, joined the heroes to spite his dad, who was a villain back then, but after a while, he did come to like being a hero

Darian joined when he was 18, and he's surprised people still think he's a villain

Solar Flare and Casey are the few people who believe he's a genuine hero, Solar Flare cause he's worked with Darian long enough to know he's being genuine, and Casey cause he interviewed anough people to know whats a lie and whats not, Lumi also knows Casey isn't a villain

Sunny Knight / Lumi!!

He joined the villains at 19, about the same time as Darian,

At home with their parents, Sunny and Darian are more civil, more sibling-like,

In the battlefield, Sunny and Darian try to incapacitate each other than hurt, since, yknow, they're siblings. But they don't fight in the battlefield much, since sometimes Sunny and Darian converse, and the hereos and villains think that Sunny and Darian are teaming up and switching sides (Darian to villains and Sunny to heroes),

Also, Lumi joined the villains just because he could, and it looked fun

i dont have much on newer OC's lol, since i havent fleshed them out much lol

I also have a few more OC's i haven't talked about / fleshed out that much, like they're just an idea, but not a person yet.

Like uhh

Viz:

Theyre a hero with high anxiety, but despite having anxiety, and knowing he would get attention, interviews, etc. He still decides to be a hero, since to him, its the right thing to do. I still haven't showed them yet cause 1. i haven't drawn them yet, 2. with anxiety like them, i want to make sure i represent them well and make them realistic and that i don't make them like a stereotype

Starlight / Adrian Celeste:

Hes a self absorbed egocentric hero, and he's vain, he's kinda a joke hero i thought about, where like, he's self absorbed to the point its funny, hes still nice though, he doesn't show it much though, since he doesn't want to seem vulnerable and stuff. a simple backstory I thought about is that he was put down back then when he was young, so to make himself more confident, he started to compliment himself, and other stuff, but then it quickly spiraled put of control, and now hes like this. He also carries a mirror with himself at all times, just to admire himself, and his mirror in his room has sticky note surrounding where his face would be, and it says "perfect" "amazing" etc. also, he can glow, heal, teleport, and kinda has the ability to see the future (in like a vague way, like, he sees the stars and can sense something in the future, but its just really vague)

Jester / R.J. Santos: (Civilian name im not sure on yet)

Theyre a villain, a non serious villain, think like a cartoon villain, a goofy villain, they dont do any harm, just there to have fun. they also wanted to name themselves Jester Jinx, but since Jinx already had the name, they were okay with going with just Jester. Also, he's filipino. Also, he cares for young heroes (being an impromptu dad himself [long story where a kid of a hero wanted to be a villain, but the parent wanted them to be a hero, so the kid ran away, and got to casey, and casey took care of them and helped them be a villain {the kids, actually a teen, like 16, the teen is names Shadowstrike and their civilian name is Micheal, they hate the name by the way},]), and once, casey saw that the heroes were sending young heroes to his base to defeat him, and R.J. doesn't spot a singular a singular adult there, so he makes the young heroes (teens and even kids) sit down and stuff, and then he calls the heroes (he has their number cause they're usually on good terms), and yells at them over the phone for sending kids to a villain, and that they could've gotten hurt, and he gets so angry he starts shouting in filipino. Also! R.J. has a big family (based off my family), where his great grandma had 12 kids, and those kids (his grandparents and grand aunties and uncles) had kids (about 3 each), his aunties and uncles, and they have kids as well (about 3-5), his cousins and such, and his cousins had children as well, R.J. tries to remember them all by name, but its pretty hard, cause like, he has about

...

three- three thousand, three thousand family members?! Uhm, hold on i gotta ask my mom something about my family, or my dad since that family is on his side

Oh thank god, i only have 106 family members,

uh, so like, new and revised family tree!

my famly is gonna be R.j's family (cause holy fuck no way am i writing 3 thousand family members , J.C.) that's whats R.J's family is gonna be, 106 family members,

Anyways, ive been doing okay-ish! Could be better, but could be worse XP (lets just say the AO3 author curse is real). And i think of things that exist are poggers.

[hannahssimblr]

I keep seeing anons mention Doors and your screenshots from a Sims 3 story. What was it about?

omg! Doors was my second 'big' story written using sims, the first that I took to its own blog because I kept getting banned from the exchange. It was a wild ride. I wrote it when I was maybe seventeen and it's VERY silly and disjointed, I was not a girl with a plan, I just went with the flow of it and you could tell, but anyway, the synopsis is under the cut.

it's about a 17 year old girl called Kady Lawson whose parents recently got divorced. She and her mother move to the top floor an old Brownstone building in Bridgeport.

Kady immediately starts to experience strange happenings in the house, and wonders whether she and her mother are really alone... It begins with strange knocking on the wall of her bedroom that only gets worse and worse as time goes on. Then things start falling off the shelves in her bedroom and she becomes convinced that there's a poltergeist in her house.

She tries to explain this to her mother (an airhead) who obviously doesn't believe her.

Anyway, obviously things get way worse and the poltergeist kicks into high gear and starts throwing things at Kady and physically injuring her. She also notices a figure of a strange woman in the background of a family photo that definitely wasn't there before. Creep city, if you ask me.

Anyway, then one night Kady is trying to sleep when the lights of the city outside strangely dim and it goes deathly silent. The figure of a woman materialises in the corner of her bedroom and stares her. Kady is too afraid to move so she just stares back and prays that she will leave her alone. After several terrifying moments the woman floats towards the bookshelves in Kady's room, through them, and disappears into the wall. Kady, super smart gorl, pulls back the bookcases to revel *gasp!* a hidden door.

Kady goes through the door to find an array of desperately boring things, paintings, boxes, an easel, nothing of remote interest except for another door on the other side of this little crawl space. Brave girl, she steps through it to find...

The neighbour's apartment. It's a trendy loft that belongs to a guy called Tristan, who becomes Kady's sidekick in this mystery. This is pretty much when I decided to give up on the ghost thing and make it a love story instead, but I tried my best to keep the mystery going even though i no longer cared about it. Tristan is a former child actor who has escaped Lucky Palms for a secluded life in Bridgeport, away from his insane parents, his grief over his dead sister and his (obvious, but never explicitly stated) drug additions. "It's hell, like siberia except it's warmer" - he explained to her. He's way too old for her, but I guess when I was 17 I thought age gaps were hot and relationships between 17/18 year olds and 23 year olds were A-OK lmao.

Tristan is somehow okay with Kady busting into his private space, listens to her problems and quickly agrees to help her to solve the mystery, 'cause he's a kooky guy, he's seen crazier things, and he could use the entertainment. I was obsessed with him. He was the weirdest character I ever wrote, and I eventually got bullied by adult women on some writers forum because I made him too gross and weird and they didn't like it hahaha.

Kady and Tristan try to solve the mystery of the haunted house and come up against dead end after dead end. They find relatives of the former owners of the house, look through old photographs, do a ouija board and Kady has a series of prophetic dreams. Meanwhile she's like "This guy is the worst and also gross!! But he's kinda....??" and he's like "I'm disloyal and selfish and I don't believe in love so don't bother" They have a small falling out over things that go wrong on her 18th birthday and stop speaking.

Anyway then fucked up stuff starts happening in Tristan's apartment and he comes back to Kady to ask her for help. There are things moving around inside his mattress and writing appearing on his walls, including a message that seems to implicate a former owner of the brownstone for murder.

They eventually locate a musty old diary belonging to the woman of the house from the 1920s. She talks about how her husband has been eyeing up the hussy next door, and she is NOT happy about it. It details her discovery that her husband has built a passageway between their homes so he can sneak over in the night and cheat on her. (don't ask me how she never noticed him building the doors or not being in bed with her at night, I didn't think about these kinds of things. It was just the vibe.)

Tristan and Kady do more research (lots of research in this story, they're also aided by Kady being suddenly psychic for no reason) and uncover a death certificate for the hussy next door (Esther). Cause of death - blunt force trauma to the skull lmao.

Kady invites Tristan over for awkward coffee, and he comes in and steps on a creaky floorboard (the same floorboard that creaks in chapter one!! I was planning ahead a bit i guess) she has an idea. She grabs a hammer and yanks up the boards to uncover a mound of old dusty books. Boring! Except one of them *gasp* was in one of Kady's prophetic dreams!!

It is a journal belonging to the murdered woman (who is the ghost, btw) where she is documenting her pregnancy. As an aside, I'm cackling at this line from Tristan when he puts two and two together. “Didn’t Vera say something in her journal about Esther looking kinda fat?”

Thanks for that, insightful king .

They go back to the crawl space that divides their apartments and discover a box of baby things. Then they hear an unholy crash coming from Tristans room. They rush out to discover his things thrown about the place, wardrobe hanging open, clothes everywhere. The ghosts are at it again, boys. But Kady discovers a box at the bottom of his wardrobe. Because she's nosy and has to respect for privacy she opens it and discovers photos of his dead sister. Sad!

Kady and Tristan get another lead that the evil killer woman had ties to Appaloosa Plains. They take a fun road trip, get a motel, and obviously I decided to pull a 'there was only one bed' move because it was the style at the time.

Adorable, inappropriate age gap, power imbalance love <3

(actually there were two beds, but they end up using one to have a deep conversation and almost kiss!)

They talk about their lives but Tristan freezes up because he's deep and he's got wounds! He shuts her out and refuses to talk anymore.

They venture into the country bumpkin capital of the sims world and trace the murder's family home to a building in town that is now a saloon. They ask the owner for information about her, and he has none. Kady admits to Tristan that she was kinda hoping to find a confession to the murder (why would she leave that lying around though? Anyway...) They discover that the murderer (Vera) changed her name, married a wealthy man and scorned her working class country roots.

They go poking around in the backrooms of the saloon and discover stacks and stacks of old newspapers in a cellar, which they write off as useless trash until they discover that they're all the same copy of the same paper from the same day. Somebody bought up every copy in town and hid them away. The search through the papers to discover a report of a missing person in Bridgeport - not Esther, but Vera's husband Henry! Gasp! did she kill him too?

As soon as they mention the word murder Kady spirals into an intense psychic vision and see's a half decomposed, skeletal body emerge from the darkness. Freezing cold suddenly and unable to move or scream, she collapses to the floor in terror.

Anyway, Tristan takes the opportunity to almost kiss her but doesn't because I was building suspense.

Then they randomly find a hole in the floor lol!

Tell me how nobody has seen this in like 80 years!! nobody like, swept the floor? Anyway. Roll with it.

There's a human skeleton hanging out down there and Kady vomits on Tristan's designer sneakers.

Weeks later, long after returning from Appaloosa Plains, Kady sulks in her window and wonders what the fuck she's meant to do about a crusty old murder that happened in like, the 20s. Who is she to solve it? Even Vera is dead so like, what's the point (I'm also wondering this Kady, so hopefully one of us can figure it out) I think she's also not talking to Tristan although this is not clear. She sees him walking across the street and gets sad because he's so sexy and yet so unavailable to her. *sigh*

All of a sudden Kady has ANOTHER psychic vision omg. She sees a little girl ghost appear in her room, a girl who introduces herself as the Esther's daughter! She says she died of the flu or some shit when she was ten and she holds all the answers. "Take my hand' she tells Kady. "I'll show you." Kady does, and they embark...

The ghost girl - Rebecca brings Kady down a mysterious corridor lined with doors, each one of which holds a piece of the puzzle.

Behind one door is Esther's murdered body, and the murder weapon, a humble hammer, lies on the floor next to her feet (look at my editing skills! amaze) she then witnesses Vera coming into the room and cleaning up the crime scene, removing evidence that she did it, hiding the hammer.

Then Kady goes into another room and sees Vera poisoning poor sickly Rebecca's soup for no reason other than she is evil. Kady blacks out AGAIN because apparently she literally cannot stop doing this and I didn't know how else to transition to another scene.

Kady comes to in time to see Tristan coming home from wherever he was (likely spreading STDs around the place tbh) she tries to tell him what she's seen but he doesn't care, he's too busy being damaged and interesting. Oh, he's also drunk. Okay.

He actually does tell her that he's a drug addict here. Okay. He got hooked on cocaine when he was an actor and now he's clean. Not relevant at all to the story I think I'd just found out about cocaine at this point in my life and i wanted to include it.

Kady visits Esther's and Rebecca's graves. She awkwardly speaks to Rebecca and says that she's sorry for what happened to her, but she's figured it all out now. She says that she hopes she can rest in peace now (even though you did nothing, babe, honestly.) She explains that Rebecca's father was murdered in Appaloosa Plains and left to rot in a cellar. She also DIDN'T CALL THE POLICE? Like she found a body and did nothing about it and now the mystery is over. Okay whatever.

Anyway, Tristan is moving back to Lucky Palms to be with his family because he has realised that he mustn't run away from his problems. He waits for Kady in her room (breaking and entering) and she comes home from the graveyard to find him there.

they finally have a big dirty smooch but don't do anything else I swear!!!!

I actually remember readers being annoyed that they didn't fuck, but like, I was a teenage girl who hadn't done anything but kiss yet! There was no way I was going to write about something like that, and I felt guilty for not trying to because so many readers were like "aw! what?? after all that and they're not going to bang??" Like sorry, no. I'm 17 and a virgin you're going to have to go somewhere else, queens xx

Kady and Tristan say goodbye in an airport and he says "I've fallen in love with you, I guess." Nice!

Then she has to leave, but he loudly sings love songs to her until he gets tackled to the floor by security (and possibly arrested? It's not clear)

Kady looks at him and laughs cos he's so wild and crazy. Whadda guy, am I right?

That's it lol. It was actually really really fun to read this story again and relay it, because I don't remember any of it. It was like reading it for the first time with totally fresh eyes. I had so many readers on this thing, like at least 500 which is INSANE to me now. The community was much more alive back then and more people were writing and reading, and like in a way I'm proud of it for what it is. It was a valiant attempt at a novella, and people really did connect with it, so as much as I'm kind of sneering at it (kindly - because it's myself) I have to stand behind it and say yeah! I finished it! And people showed up week after week and read it so that's really cool!

Thanks for sending this question - I don't know if an entire synopsis is what you were asking for, but there it is!

[thisaintascenereviews]

Hardy - Quit!!

I don’t quite believe in the idea of a “guilty pleasure,” because I’m at the point in my music fandom that if I like something, I like it. The closest I’ve come to it is in the beginning of 2023 when country artist / songwriter Hardy dropped his second album, The Mockingbird & The Crow. Hardy is a songwriter turned artist himself that’s responsible for Florida Georgia Line becoming popular, ultimately bringing bro-country to the world for about five years or so. In recent years, though, he’s turned to making his own music, finally getting a breakthrough with “Wait In The Truck” with Lainey Wilson in the last couple years.

I’ve listened to his debut solo album, and it was fine, albeit generic country, but Mockingbird is a different beast entirely. It’s a double album that has one half being country and the other being hard-rock. The country half of the album was pretty straightforward and generic, but it had some decent hooks and lyricism. The rock side was a little better, despite being a butt-rock album. It had the catchier and more energetic songs, but I’m not going to pretend they were great.

The Mockingbird & The Crow was a rather ambitious record, but it was also pretty bland and self-indulgent that showed Hardy wanting to have his cake and eat it, too, especially by wanting to have a more ambitious project in a new sound that still has generic country songs that will surely be played on the radio. Fast forward two years later, and we got his follow-up, entitled Quit!! This record, along with its title track, is an ode to the “haters,” specifically someone that wrote “quit” on a napkin at an open mic.

I wasn’t looking forward to it, because that song is awful, and so were the other songs that preceded this record, but I wanted to check it out so see if maybe the songs would be better in context, or if the album would be stronger as a whole, versus the lead singles. Unfortunately, “Quit” is exactly what I would do if I put this stinker out into the world for everyone to hear, because this is a really bad album, and it’s easily one of the worst of the year. Not only does this album have no idea what it wants to be, at least when it comes to its sound, hardly any of these ideas are what I’d call “good.”

As much as I was a Mockingbird & The Crow apologist, and thought that album was “okay,” this one is bad. Right off the bat, we got the title track, and this is a very obnoxious rap-rock track that he feels the need to employ here, but it’s all about how he won’t quit, despite people not liking him. He’s really obsessed with this idea, because he also talked about that a lot on the previous album.

The subject doesn’t get any better as the album goes on, as the following track “Rockstar” is a play on songs about being a rockstar, I guess, but it’s not funny and annoying. Most of the lyrics on this album, as well as the overall sound, is pretty bland, but it doesn’t get too bad. This album is mostly the kind of bad that I don’t like at all, but it’s easy to ignore. Hell, the album mainly sticks to a country-rock sound that has some decent hooks, but the album leaves a pretty sour taste in my mouth a few times.

Sure, the title track is cringy, and the song “Good Girl Phase” is kind of weird, but they’re not offensively bad. “Psycho” is the main song on here that I’m baffled Hardy wrote, recorded, and put on this album. The song is basically about how Hardy is a terrible partner, and if his girlfriend left him, he lists the crazy things he would do to make her miserable, so she should feel guilty to leave him. Despite the song clearly trying to be a joke, it’s not funny, and it just makes him look bad, like why would anyone want to be with him if he’s going to do that?

A few other songs get close to that, such as “Soul4Sale,” which has Fred Durst sounding the worst he’s ever sounded, and it’s a painfully generic song about selling your soul to be popular or something. A couple songs are actually okay, including the couple songs about his wife, “WHYBMWL,” and “Six Feet Under,” but they’re also super bland, both musically and lyrically, they’re just not outwardly bad. They’re at least more sentimental, and they have more defined hooks and structures, versus being loud and obnoxious.

Loud and obnoxious are the best two descriptors of this album, especially at its worst. Hardy isn’t a very good singer (or lyricist, for that matter), and it shows when he has to do anything that’s out of his limited range, so a lot of these hooks are awful, or very forgettable. Now at its best, it’s generic country-rock, but also very forgettable. Quit has a few of the worst songs of the year, and I still would throw this on a worst of list, but it didn’t piss me off as much as a few other albums did throughout the year. It’s bad, but it’s the kind of bad that you’ll forget about in a day or two, instead of letting it eat you alive as some bad albums can do.

[tehuti88-art]

5/12/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Wednesday/Free Draw Friday." (I did Free Draw Friday.)

This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Helena Urbach. She isn't a main character but ends up playing more of a role late in the story, helping the good guys. There'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding her design, she's supposed to be taller and a little bigger and not quite as feminine as most of the female characters. Like a farm woman, I guess. For this reason I followed the male template when drawing her--longer nose, thicker neck, etc.

TUMBLR EDIT: Hm, I haven't much to share on Helena's earlier life, she hasn't shared it yet and as I'm typing this up (early June) we're going through a major medical emergency so I'm not in much state of mind to brainstorm. Maybe she's just not ready to share. Part of her story, including the circa-2000 reboot version of how she first comes into contact with the Trench Rats (under her original, since-discarded name Kurtzer), is HERE, in Mahogany Rat's entry. Obviously, by this point she's already been through far more than she should have.

In the original version, Helena had a little girl. In the newer version I last outlined, she had a husband. Most recently I'm leaning toward her having a husband and a child, for reasons that will become clear soon. I'm unsure of their life before the Nazis, though I wonder if perhaps they were farmers, based on Helena's physical build--tall, not exactly stout but not slender or especially feminine, well built and strong. I'm not sure though--she seems a bit educated and worldly to be a farm wife, especially compared to, say, the Klempers, who are pretty simple and ignorant of a lot of things (for example, Klemper can read, but can barely write)--so I can't commit to her specific background yet. Maybe they're just financially better off than the dirt-poor Klempers and so they could afford to be more educated. *shrugs*

The Urbachs are Jewish, in 1930s Germany--and so the inevitable happens. They're rounded up and transported to a camp, where they're separated--Helena's husband is sent one way, then her child is taken away from her. She goes through the stripping, the delousing, the head shaving, the tattooing. (Tattoos are more ubiquitous in my story than IRL, where they were an Auschwitz thing.) By the time she ends up in a women's camp, in stripes, with a yellow star, assigned to hard labor, her spirits are almost completely crushed; it's only the thought of being reunited with her family that keeps her going. At the end of every exhausting, back-breaking day, and again when they're all rousted from their bunks to line up outside before the sun has even risen, it's the tiny burning feverish ember in her heart, keeping her trudging through the mud and blood and squalor and working until she's near ready to collapse and then the day ends again.

Helena is thin, haggard, hollow eyed by the time the camp is liberated and its inmates are brought to the Trench Rats to shelter, sort out, and attempt to reunite with their families and move them out of the country. The entire process is too eerily reminiscent of what she went through with the Nazis: Everyone is put in lines, they show their tattoos, they give their info, all in a very brisk, clinical manner. The Rat Helena goes before is especially brusque, taking down her name and number without even looking her in the face, waving her on with a terse, "Next." It takes all the courage she can summon to address him directly, and when she does, he finally looks up at her and blinks, as if to say, what sort of nerve this person has to speak to me? The numbers aren't supposed to speak.

Helena haltingly asks if he knows anything about anyone else named Urbach. He tells her he isn't equipped to provide such info, he's just there to process the newcomers. Dispirited, Helena thanks him anyway, and heads off to the next line.

The rest of the process isn't quite as stressful. They're sheltered in a large room with multiple bunks, but are provided with sheets to hang for a bit of privacy. There are warm clean blankets and pillows. A doctor and his team make the rounds of the entire room, giving everyone a perfunctory checkup, sending those who need further attention to the medical ward. He's terse, rather aloof, but nothing like the doctors in the camp; he actually asks Helena if anything is bothering her. She wants to again ask about her family, but this is just a doctor, surely he wouldn't know anything; she says merely that she's thirsty, and wishes she could wash up. He says food and drink will be provided shortly, along with the chance to clean up, and goes on to the next person. As promised, other Rats arrive with food carts, and Helena is mildly surprised that the food is kosher. Some of the refugees eat while others go to wash off and receive a fresh change of clothes; by the time she's done with both, Helena can barely think of anything other than sleep, she's so exhausted. She dozes off immediately in her little bunk and dreams she's back in the camp. It'll be a while before those dreams go away.

She snaps awake before dawn--because if you wake late in camp, you get a beating. Quite a few of the others have awakened as well, or been unable to sleep at all. There's a Rat stationed at the door nearby, light peeking in from the next room, and she wraps her blanket around herself and approaches him. He's polite when she addresses him, and explains that they're allowed to sleep later; there'll be no beatings here, no hard labor, no punishment. Helena returns to her bunk, but just lies awake as dawn gradually arrives and light filters in the high windows. By the time everyone awakes, they're all pretty confused; it's a much different atmosphere from the one in the camps, and no one's sure what to expect. Helena's had a lot of time to think, though. She again approaches the Rats, and volunteers her services as a go-between. She speaks German, she speaks Yiddish, she speaks passing-well English, her health is moderately decent compared to a lot of the others, and she's good at keeping a level head and calming people down. She can't bear the thought of sitting and doing nothing; if she can help at all, she wants to. The Trench Rats agree, and Helena, along with various other refugees who are in better physical and mental condition, or have particular skills that are needed, assist them in handling the less fortunate among them. A few times she even helps the doctor, Burgundy, with medical issues the others experience; blood and injuries don't make her queasy, and she's good at helping to keep refugees calm as they're tended to, even if she doesn't speak the same language.

One day, a familiar Rat comes to meet her--the same one who'd taken down her information when she'd first been brought in. His name is Mahogany, and along with him is Copper, another Rat who often checks in on the refugees. He excitedly informs Helena that he's been digging through numerous records and he believes he's found what became of the other people named Urbach, the ones she'd asked about. Helena's heart leaps into her throat--when Mahogany tells her that both of them were reported by the Nazis as having been killed in the camps.

In an instant, that burning little ember of hope, that's kept her going for so long, is snuffed out. Helena feels her lungs contract, her heart shrink in on itself. Her family is gone. She won't ever see them again, hug her husband, hold her child--by now they're surely nothing more but ash and smoke. She dimly sees the looks on the Trench Rats' faces--Copper looks aghast, while Mahogany starts to look uncertain--before her vision blurs and then darkens around the edges. Still...she'd asked, and he answered. "Danke," she makes herself mumble, before turning and heading back to her bunk. She slips into her bed, lets the sheet fall closed, curls up on her side and stares. It's too much at first and she's too numb with disbelief to even cry. After a while though, reality settles in, and the clenching in her heart grows into a dreadful, soul-crushing ache. She tries not to cry out loud, but can't help the whimpers that escape her. Throughout the day and night, now and then another of the refugees stops by her bunk to sit with her and hold her hand and stroke her hair, murmuring their sympathy; she'd comforted them once, now they attempt to return her kindness. It doesn't break through to her, though; she's too swallowed up in her own void to notice them much. She slips in and out of sleep and waking, dream and reality, and time has no meaning anymore, because nothing does.

Finally, after what might be either moments or years, someone places their hand on her arm. A hazy shadow leans close and murmurs in German, "Frau Urbach, Sie müssen essen." You have to eat. She blinks a few times, her vision clears; for some reason she'd almost thought it was her husband, although he wouldn't call her Frau Urbach. She sees it's the Trench Rat doctor. He looks concerned. She suddenly feels it--the clenching in her empty stomach as well--she feels that she shouldn't be hungry, not when she has nothing left to live for, yet she is. She slowly pushes herself up, noticing the other refugees standing around peering in at her; Burgundy asks for privacy and they let the sheet drop and depart. He hands her a small bowl of fruit which she holds but does nothing else with; "Just one piece," he says, so she slowly eats one. "Now another," he says, and she does so, until the little bowl is empty, and he gives her a cup of water: "One drink," he says, and she sips until the cup is empty. He touches her hand when he reaches for the cup and it hits her again and her eyes well up and she sucks in a breath. "What do I do?" she asks, to which he replies, "Don't think too far ahead. Just one little step. Then another."

He sits with her while she cries, this time letting out the sounds. It feels like hours, like the grief is bottomless, but eventually she just grows too tired to keep crying, and they just sit. She must doze off, for she wakes and he's gone, though the Rats with the food carts are making the rounds, and she accepts a little food although she doesn't feel like eating. She still breaks down crying a few times, yet also continues going through the motions of living. When one of the Rats stops by to ask if she'll accompany him to the medical ward--Burgundy says they could use an extra pair of hands--she goes with him. She spends the day helping out with a few new arrivals who are frightened, ill, and traumatized; it doesn't take away her own pain, but it distracts her a little, and helps the time pass. During a lull, she asks Burgundy, "Who did you lose...?" He stares at her a moment, seeming surprised that she would ask, before quietly replying, "Everyone." He doesn't need to say anything else, and neither does she. She resumes her previous activity with the refugees, at first just to keep herself going, then to fill in the time, then to fill in the void. The pain doesn't go away and she doesn't expect it to. She keeps living, though, and as long as she's alive, she figures, she may as well keep going, helping others even if they can't help her.

It isn't long after (though it feels like it's been ages) when Mahogany returns. She's never seen such miserable guilt on anyone's face before, and it gives her pause. He haltingly attempts to explain himself and apologize for his previous actions: Her initial request for information had niggled at him in a way things rarely did, so after his shift was over, he'd gone digging through not just the Trench Rats' files, but German documents they'd confiscated as well. It was in these that he'd discovered the fate of Helena's husband and child. He'd been so excited to be able to give her the information she'd asked for that it hadn't even occurred to him he was delivering the news that her family was dead, until he'd seen the look on her face, and Copper had rebuked him for it. He hadn't even been thinking of that possibility--he'd just been thinking of their ID numbers, not the people behind them."You realize, this is the same way the Nazis think," Helena says, which makes him physically flinch; she can tell the comment stings. He acknowledges this:

Mahogany: "It's just, it's easier for me to figure out numbers, names, facts...I'm not so good with faces, people, feelings. I know there are people behind the numbers. They're just..."

Helena: "Complicated?"

Mahogany: (nods)

Helena: "And you don't know how to deal with complicated."

Mahogany: (nods) "You see how well I already did."

Helena: "I believe I understand."

Mahogany: "I meant no offense. I really should've thought before I spoke, and I'm sorry."

Helena: "It's all right. I see you were only trying to help. You know, though...if you want to better know a person behind a number, it's all right for you to ask."

Mahogany: (nods) "I understand now."

Helena: "Helena. Urbach." (holds out hand) "So I'm not just a number on a page."

Mahogany: (grasps her hand) "Mahogany."

Helena: "And I mean it. Danke, for the trouble you went to, to find out what happened to my family." (voice breaks a little)

Mahogany: (pause, waiting for her to compose herself) "Since you mentioned it...does it make it hurt less…? Now that you know?"

Helena: (pause) "Nein...it hurts the same. But it helps."

Helena remains with the Rats for a time as she has no family to be reunited with. She helps a good number of the newer refugees navigate their new lives after Nazi captivity. She meets a rescuee named Jakob Wolfstein when he's brought into the medical ward; Burgundy, who's usually skilled at concealing his feelings about such things, seems especially unsettled by this patient, and asks Helena to speak with him. She expects someone severely traumatized; yet Wolfstein appears in rather better spirits than most newcomers she's met, and once she introduces herself, he seems excited to meet another Jew. He actually clasps her hands in his and smiles from ear to ear, a reaction she's unused to. She asks him about himself and learns that he recently escaped Nazi custody with the help of a Trench Rat named Silver, who's also recuperating in the medical ward; Helena has heard of this incident already, Silver ending up captured by the Nazis and briefly going missing, as it was pretty big news. She peers at him dozing several beds away, black and blue all over; "He had it much, much worse than I," Wolfstein murmurs. Most of the escape, in fact, was orchestrated by Wolfstein, as Silver wasn't in good shape once the Nazis were done with him; they fled to the protection of a group of partisans, and have only just returned to Trench Rat Headquarters following negotiations between the partisans and the Rats for a supplies trade. The two chat for a while, and Helena promises to come talk with him again after he gets some rest. He again clasps her hands and wishes her goodbye. Helena reports back to Burgundy, who wants to know her impressions of Wolfstein's mental state; "He seems fine to me," she admits, "more than fine, actually," and she describes their interaction, Wolfstein's buoyant spirits on meeting her, his emphasis on Silver being the one who truly needs attention. Burgundy seems nonplussed; "Herr Wolfstein didn't go through nothing," he says; "those Nazi 'doctors' experimented on him. Did you see his scar?" Helena says it looks like he had a scar on his chest, partly hidden by his clothes; in response Burgundy traces a finger along his own chest, across and then down, a rough Y shape. Helena's face goes pale; "They vivisected him," Burgundy says, and she can hear just a twinge of it in his voice--fury. Wolfstein had given no sign, said no word of such a thing; his concerns lay solely with Silver's welfare.

Helena and Wolfstein continue to meet and get to know each other. Both of them are comforted to find a similar soul to chat with. Helena learns that Wolfstein has a sister, Johanna, and several extended-family members he hopes were not captured and wishes to get back in touch with soon. Wolfstein learns that Helena has no family left. Pain pinches his face and he cups her hands in his. "I'm sorry," he says, and seeing the tattoo on his arm, she knows that he perfectly understands where she's coming from. She has to swallow and blink a few times to not be overwhelmed again.

One day when she visits, Wolfstein is a bit quieter than usual, as if trying to figure out how to tell her something; when she finally asks what's on his mind, he explains the reason he believes his sister and cousins are still alive: He'd caught wind, while in captivity, that they'd eluded capture and joined a resistance effort known as the Diamond Network. "When I leave here, if I can find them," he says, "I hope to help them with their cause. Whatever little bit I can offer. Even if only my last breath. I wanted to ask you, if you would like to do the same? You have such a large soul, and there are so very many you can help. Even more than here. I know that you worry you can't do enough. This isn't true. But you can do more, if you wish."

Helena hesitates. While it's true that she worries she doesn't do enough among the Trench Rats, still, it's all she knows she can do. They've also been incredibly kind to her, and she hates the thought of leaving them. Still...Wolfstein explains a bit more how she could assist from within the Diamond Network, and it does sound like there is so much more she can do, people she can help at the most urgent moments, rather than just in the aftermath. Given her own experiences and knowledge, she'd be invaluable. Helena says she needs to mull it over a little bit; Wolfstein replies that it may be a while yet before he can locate his sister (incidentally, Mahogany is one of the parties digging into it), so she can take her time to decide.

The first person Helena asks for input from is Burgundy. Despite his widely known sour, standoffish attitude, he's only ever been kind to her, and she values his opinion. He says he's sure she could do very well for the Network, as she's done so well for the Rats: "Of course, we'll miss you here." He advises her to do that which her intuition tells her to do. Mahogany offers similar thoughts. Helena makes up her mind; she goes to Wolfstein and tells him that whenever he finds his sister, she'd like to come and help them. She'll remain with the Rats until then. Wolfstein tells her she won't regret her decision. Some time later, Mahogany finally helps track down Johanna and Wolfstein's cousin Noah, and Wolfstein returns to his family. A little bit after that, he sends Helena a message back at Trench Rat Headquarters: He's settled back in with his family, and is ready to help out the Diamond Network--he invites Helena to join them. She says her goodbyes to Burgundy and the others, and departs.

Helena doesn't show up again in the series until late, by which point the first Trench Rat sergeant, Camo, has dropped his own solitary resistance disguise and re-joined the Rats, becoming co-commander along with the former corporal Gold. Following the war, the handful of Trench Rats remaining in Germany, including Burgundy, Mahogany, and Camo, investigate reports of continued Nazi activity occurring in the Alps. Helena appears at the newly repurposed Project Doomsday headquarters where the Rats have taken up operations and offers her services; Mahogany gratefully accepts her help going through records, and she helps both with keeping HQ in touch with the group who go to the mountains, and with the ongoing efforts to reunite separated families and property. Through this role, she comes into contact with Camo.

Helena doesn't take much notice of the Trench Rat sergeant at first, and he takes no notice of her. It's only after the Alps business is settled and Camo joins in with reunification efforts that they officially meet. Camo doesn't make a great first impression; he's aloof, standoffish, curt, and rather cold. He isn't RUDE, but he definitely isn't friendly, either. Helena tries to chat with him now and then but although he acknowledges her, he makes no real effort to reciprocate. She knows he's not an antisemite, as his corporal, Drake, is Jewish, and the two get along very well. She actually considers asking Drake what's going on with Camo, but he returns to France shortly after the Alpine Fortress affair, to continue recovering from the torture he himself suffered at the hands of the Nazis. There IS one other party in an odd position to know quite a bit about Camo's life, someone who actively participated in typing up many of the files the Rats now find themselves sifting through, and who tipped them off to this goldmine of information as part of a deal following his capture by the Rats near the end of the war. He escaped serious punishment by a military tribunal, and still stops by headquarters on occasion to help the Rats locate particular files. This vast reservoir of information, private personal records on literally tens of thousands of people, was kept by the Allgemeine-SS, and one of the numerous secretarial workers who participated in putting together and archiving the information was SS-Captain Otto Himmel.

Helena has also heard of Himmel: He took part in the former Allies' efforts in the Alps, and provided directions to all the files formerly in SS custody, though he spends most of his time in the country with his son. Dour, brooding, and reclusive, he mainly keeps to himself, but is always polite when addressed directly. Most of the others leave him alone aside from when they're seeking particular files, and he doesn't seem inclined to make friends. Helena, of course, expects a virulent antisemite who is unlikely to cooperate with her, though when she introduces herself to him directly one day, she's surprised when he merely says, "Ja, I remember you." He recalls her being involved, on the ground, in the Alpine Fortress affair, which rather perplexes her, since she kept mostly in the background. Himmel remembers everyone who was involved, though, and not only that, he remembers her personal file. He doesn't say anything about her being a Jew, however, so instead of dwelling on that, she asks about Camo, if she has any reason to believe he'll be difficult to work with. Himmel replies that he has no idea what Camo may think of her, but "He fully has every reason to despise me." Without elaborating on that at first, he expresses puzzlement, why she thinks Camo will have a problem with her; when she describes his attitude Himmel replies he's been that way for a long time, and he's decent at working even with people he doesn't agree with. "You've seen his file, ja...?" he asks; when Helena says no, she wasn't aware he had one, he hesitates.

Himmel: "We keep...kept...files on everyone, especially the American soldiers, when we could find information on them. Herr Camo was no different. We wanted to know ways to best...ways to best take advantage of his weaknesses. This is the way the SS worked. (pause) Your file, for example. It says you lost your husband and child in the camps...I'm sorry."

Helena: "Danke."

Himmel: "You and Herr Camo actually have things in common, though he has no way to know. He lost his wife and child before the war."

Helena: "He--he had a family?"

Himmel: "Ja, a wife and a young daughter. He lost them in an accident and was badly hurt himself. (pause) The SS took advantage of this fact when they...we...found out. There was another American soldier, a young woman, whom the Waffen-SS turned as a spy. They sent her along to catch his eye and try to get information. He's a loyal American, he never gave her secrets, but she did get access to Headquarters. You know what happened next."

Helena: (nods)

Himmel: (pause) "You've read her file...?"

Helena: "Nein."

Himmel: (long pause) "I won't go into all the particulars. But I had good reason to believe she was a threat to my son and to others. When we caught Herr Camo and Herr Drake and her, I shot her. In front of him. He would have killed me if he'd gotten the chance."

Helena: "You killed her...?"

Himmel: "I murdered her, ja. And if I had it to do again I would do the same, for my son. And not a night has gone by since then without me having a nightmare about it. My mind knows I did the only possible thing, yet my heart still hurts over it, and always will. This is why he hates me, though. He was convinced this woman, this spy, she loved him. She didn't. I'm certain some part of him knows this. But mind and heart are two different things, ja? His mind knows I killed a spy but his heart feels I killed the person who loved him and whom he loved. I'm not sure he'll ever forgive me and that's all right. It may explain some things, though. Like why he keeps everyone at a distance. It's easier for some people to be alone than to hurt again. I highly doubt he has anything against you."

Helena returns to the documents and while she refrains from digging up Camo's--it seems like it would be a breach of trust--she does look up Himmel's, as he outright tells her before departing that he welcomes her doing so, he's an open book. She finds that he shares similarities with them, too--his wife died giving birth to their son, who not long after he was forced to relinquish to the state for much of his early life--he lost his spouse and, in a way, his child, himself. When she and Camo start working together on the files she makes a bit more of an effort to talk to him, keeping in mind his likely reasons for maintaining a distance. On an occasion when Drake visits from France, she chats with him and finds him much more personable and open despite his obvious trauma (Papillon, a former partisan he'd grown close to, accompanies him everywhere and is never far away, and Drake has developed a slight permanent tremor from the torture he went through--he shivers as if cold the entire time Helena talks with him), and the two of them hit it off rather well. Seeing how they get along seems to thaw Camo out a little--it's obvious, despite their personality differences, that he values Drake's friendship highly--and after Drake and Papillon depart again, he actually approaches Helena first, offering a stilted apology for his aloofness. Helena accepts it, and their conversations as they search and sort through the files become a little less one sided. Helena tells him a bit about her old life and her family; he seems surprised, so she can tell he never paid close attention to her file, if he ever read it. It takes quite a while for him to mention his own family, and when he does, he can barely get out any words, appearing ready to just not bother talking about them at all; Helena tries something different, asking him about his daughter. As she'd expected--she'd seen the same reaction when Himmel switched from talking about his wife to his son--his spirits buoy slightly as he shares a few details about what she was like. Helena tells him about her own child. For a few moments it's almost a normal conversation, when Helena suddenly catches herself using the present tense--she sees the pained flicker in Camo's eyes a split second before she feels it herself, then her eyes blur and she has to take a breath. Then, something completely unexpected--she feels Camo clasp her hand, and she clasps his back. She takes a moment or so to compose herself and rubs at her eyes before looking at him again. "It never quite goes away, does it?" she murmurs, and Camo shakes his head. The ice breaks.

Helena and Camo grow close, though Camo is still cautious and hesitant at first, not just because of his deceased wife, but also because of Corporal Anna Julian, the American who had spied for the SS. Their relationship hadn't had the chance to get very far, one reason he's reluctant to get involved with Helena; still, the experience wounded him badly. He avoids interacting with Himmel, and Helena can see the way his muscles tense and his eyes harden whenever the former SS officer is around. He refuses to talk about his feelings regarding the matter, though eventually (for reasons I haven't entirely figured out yet, though I imagine that again, Drake may have a hand in it--maybe he tells Camo how Himmel diligently wrote letters to his deceased wife all throughout the war, to "stay sane") he starts to try to let go of some of the hostility, and Helena accompanies him to Himmel's home, a big country mansion abandoned by its previous owners, to meet with him and his partner Johanna Wolfstein (yep--same Johanna), his adult son Kolten, and the various children they adopted following the war. He learns that Himmel still struggles with guilt over what he did so long ago, yet also sees how much he cares for his own family. Despite the intense hatred Camo's felt for him all these years, Himmel harbors no bad feelings in return, and even welcomes Camo and Helena to his home.

After they leave, Camo confides in Helena that he's still angry about what Himmel did, he isn't sure if he can ever entirely let go of the feeling...yet for the first time, this realization bothers him. He feels like he SHOULD be able to let go, by now. "How do you not still hate them all?" he asks Helena, "After what they did to you and your family?" Helena has to think for a while. "Just because I do not hate doesn't mean the bad feelings are gone," she finally says. "I still hurt every day. It never goes away. But understanding it helps." She grasps his hand and squeezes. "It's all right if you can never let go of the anger. As long as you don't get stuck in it and let it eat you up. Some hurts never leave you. It isn't a flaw. It reminds you you're human."

Camo doesn't seem to entirely believe or understand her, but he doesn't argue. He clasps her hand back.

[Helena Urbach 2023 [‎Friday, ‎May ‎12, ‎2023, ‏‎3:00:21 AM]]

[pricechecktranslations]

What do you think about Mothy’s writing? I’ve been recently reading some reviews of Mothy’s first novel, both in English and in Japanese. All of them were saying the same thing: his writing is bad.

What do you think about it? Do you think his writing improved? If so, how well did it improve?

Just up front, I would be cautious about English reviews of his first novel (that is, the original Cloture of Yellow, not the VG version that I translated) because the only translation available for it is a steaming pile of garbage (and this translation was the only one available for Cloture at all for many years before I came along). I would take the word of the Japanese reviews alone on that.

(also worth noting that my translations of Cloture and Wiegenlied were my first completed book translations, so even my "good" translation is clumsier than it should be)

I will say though, yes--his writing at the beginning is very amateurish. But in my opinion there is noticeable improvement as the series goes on. I'll put a disclaimer in here though that it's pretty much impossible for me to look at this with an objective lens, being in the position I am. And that it's hard for me to judge Japanese writing standards overall--I haven't read a huge body of work actually in Japanese.

Mothy has a very brown prose, blunt style to his writing. This is what makes the initial novels in the series feel so clunky. He has a lot of exposition to deliver, but it's not always given in a very interesting manner, and it sometimes feels jarring. Actions are simply put and at times can feel silly. Emotions and thoughts are conveyed in a manner that's straightforward and without much wordcraft. And there are some times (both then and now, albeit) where he will just skip over an action sequence to get to its conclusion.

I think he's someone who envisions scenes largely in terms of visuals and dialogue, rather than words on a page (or maybe I just think so because I write that way). It's clear he has a solid picture of what's going on both action-wise and in the mind of each character, but not always the best way to convey the emotional and tonal impact of it to the reader.

I think a lot of what makes mothy's writing better in later books isn't that he's become more creative with his prose (although he has), or that his writing style has changed (it hasn't), but rather that he gets better at knowing when to provide detail, how much, and how to be more emotionally provocative with what he provides. The simpler the writing style, the more crucial it is to be able to encourage a reader to project onto a scene, and I think he just gets better at doing that.

...Eh, I don't know if I'm making sense here. Been a while since I read all of them and it's hard to compare. --The short answer is yes, I think his work improves in quality over time. It's definitely still genre fiction aimed at teens, he's not writing the Next Great Novel, but it no longer detracts from the actual thing I'm reading for, which is the characters and worldbuilding.

(I guess to give an example of what I'm talking about with being provocative, maybe...Cloture features a scene where Allen screams for an entire paragraph. This is extremely funny, and the scene is meant to be very sad. This is the kind of thing where encouraging the audience to imagine Allen's breakdown would have been more effective than just writing out the scream itself.)

[veliseraptor]

☕️ found family (I see a lot of talk that fandom ruined it lately, I think you have the same feelings if I remember right? and maybe I follow the right kind of people because I didn't notice how it's not cool anymore)

I feel like I haven't seen a lot of people talking about fandom ruining it - I've really only just started seeing people talk about not being totally enamoured with the execution as it's frequently done, which has been kind of nice for me to see as someone who has been kind of grumpy about it lately.

let me say first off that I'm not inherently opposed to the concept - in fact at its base I am often fond of the concept, in terms of "misfit groups that come together by a mixture of chance and choice who have no preexisting connections but make them for themselves." I'm into that! that could describe a lot of groups of characters I really like! (much as I'm also a fan of messy fucked up actual family dynamics.) where I start to run into problems is in a few places.

one is something a post I reblogged a little bit ago (that was in my queue for a while) about found family dynamics in fandom often circling around to become replications of heteronormative family units - i.e. with a mom and a dad and the kids (and if you're adventurous, aunts and uncles and cousins). once you start thinking about this it's sort of everywhere, and while it doesn't always piss me off it often does bug me, because it basically takes a self-constructed group of people with a whole range of relationships to each other and goes "well we have to make sure all of these fit neatly into a traditional nuclear family role, regardless of how well it may suit the characters or their relationships to each other."

and I'm just not into that! if I'm looking at that kind of conglomeration of outsiders/misfits who have made their own home, I am very unlikely to want them to perfectly match American traditional family dynamics. I want them to be found family not in the sense of "mom and dad and kids" but in the sense of "community held together because they love each other very much and the shape of those connections doesn't have to fit within a defined or analogous existing role as envisioned by the (American) definition of "family."" it feels like it's reducing a potentially really interesting way of breaking relationship molds and moving away from strict definitions of what those relationship molds mean or are expected to look like into something that's just...same old, and often poorly suited to the characters it's trying to fit into the relevant boxes.

the second is...a little thornier, and a little bitchier, and a little more personal, and I was referring to it a little bit in this post about what I specifically want from a found family type dynamic, which is to say "if it isn't messy and complicated and maybe at least a little toxic some of the time what's the point."

I think I've come to associate the term "found family" and to a certain extent the concept and its execution with a brand of...augh, I don't want to say tweeness but sort of. a similar vibe to what I was talking about a while back re: my problems with a lot of recent sci-fi/fantasy - that it refers to a kind of softness and gentleness and conflictless utopia that my cranky, wizened little heart just cannot stand. I simply do not care for it. it's nice? I guess? but it feels... [vague hand gestures]. idk. toothless. dull.

I get the desire for found family as a comforting alternative for a lot of people. and I don't think that's not valuable. but I do think that something gets lost if all the potential sharp edges get filed off so that everyone is just happy and fine and in harmony with each other. though maybe that something getting lost is nothing but "my interest."

I wrote in the tags of the first post I mentioned (the one about heteronormative dynamics) that while I'm not actually turned off the concept of "found family" as a thing, I pretty much don't use the phrase itself anymore, because it comes with a lot of baggage and associations that have come to set my teeth very much on edge. maybe I'm just too cranky for a lot of...modern fandom? modern sff? both? who knows.

unless I'm talking about yi city. yi city found family is real. and that's at least partially because I think it's funny.

[treesandtheirberries]

Dad!Harry talks to his daughter about her questioning sexuality

A/N: might make this into a blurb series? so presh. if you have any concepts around this, send them my way. 

wc: 2,249

June was Harry and Y/N’s first baby, their biggest accomplishment before they were soon having another child. June was currently 13, the awkward age of Middle School, puberty, and overall questioning of identity. Y/N and Harry wanted this weird stage to be a smooth transition. They always encouraged her to express herself, with clothes, in hobbies, with their conversations. Although their first child, they both felt as though they managed to get through the difficulties of becoming a parent easily (thanks to the massive amount of parenting books, from birth to adolescence, that Harry kept buying while June was still in the womb). 

Yet, there is only so much you can prepare your child for, and surely you can’t be there to guide them through every difficulty. Harry and Y/N weren’t sure if June would question her sexuality as both of them weren’t straight, they didn’t know if the process was the same for heterosexuals. But they never skirted around the topic. If anything, they encouraged watching same-sex couples in movies and such, even having many friends who had families with someone of the same gender (or a partner that was non-binary). 

Harry hoped that this would be an excellent way to acclimate their children to the varying diversity of the world. Y/N grew up with racial diversity, but anything deviant from heterosexuality or cisgender was heavily frowned upon. They hoped that with their lack of omission of the varying aspects of identity their children would have the opportunity to understand themselves easier rather than constantly question their identity. 

They forgot to take into account that this was simply a stage in adolescence they had to endure though, as Eric Erickson put it: a fight between identity and role confusion. And June was currently right at the center of it.

June, even as a child, was usually calm and they rarely had problems with her being fussy like they do with the twins, Mazzy and Mick (named after the artists constantly playing on their home turntable). Thus, any changes were quickly noticed in her behavior. 

-------

Picking up the kids from daycare and June from school was on the top of Y/N’s list of things to do for the day. She adored seeing everyone’s faces after a day at work and seeing their warm smiles and tight hugs always brightened her mood. 

Today, things seemed different. 

June jumped into the front seat with a grunt, a frown, and even went as far as throwing her bag onto the floor of the car forcefully. This was generally out of character, except Y/N and Harry have noticed these bursts of anger more recently. 

“What’s eating at ‘ya bug?” Y/N calmly asked, wanting to maintain a balance of emotions although knowing June was perhaps all over the place as most teenagers are. 

June rubbed her hands on the top of her thighs and noticeably took a few deep breaths; a calming tactic her father taught her when she was younger to calm herself. She took a few more breaths until facing her mother to talk. “Sage didn’t want to hang out this weekend,” she finishes, the frown being found on her face once again.

“Oh, is she busy? Thought you two were having a sleepover at home?” Y/N inquired. She knew Sage and her daughter were best friends since the beginning of sixth grade, and she hoped they would maintain their friendship although she knew the ups and downs adolescents faced it might not be possible.

“She said she’s going to the mall with Rye.”

“As in the bread?” Y/N chuckled, trying to lift the mood.

June rolled her eyes, another behavior that has risen in frequency. “No mom. A boy. That she likes.” She grumbled crossing her arms and sinking further into the seat.

“Oooooh I see what’s going on here, Sage is going on a date!” She rose her voice to a pitch of puppy love, which didn’t sit well with June. 

“We promised we wouldn’t date boys in Middle School. They’re all so stupid and ugly. I don’t get why she’s ditching me for him.” 

Y/N was a bit surprised by this. Harry and she have talked about the day they’d have to worry about June’s infatuation with others and they were dreading it. Hearing that June didn’t have interest in it now was a relief, but of course, this whole conversation was concerning. 

“I understand, not the nicest to make plans with someone when she already made some with you. But June-bug, you guys are teenagers. Of course, she’s going to take an opportunity to go on a date with a freaking boy!”

“Language momma!” Mick yelled, the three-year-olds’ well acquainted with naughty words.

“I guess. Just rude s’all.” June finished with another grumble. She wasn’t known for throwing huge fits, and her outbursts were usually this short. 

Still, Y/N knew that this would be something that would affect her for the rest of the week. Her daughter is calm but incredibly sensitive, and the two parents have learned how to work through her internal struggles. She decided to ask the usual question during June’s turmoils: “wanna talk to dad about it?” 

“Yes please.”

--------

Harry was finishing washing the plates as Y/N was getting the twins ready for bed. The small domestic moments like these reminded Harry of how lucky he was to have a family like his. He noticed June’s mood as soon as everyone entered the house, and once Y/N confirmed they would need to talk later, Harry was preparing himself to support his daughter through her problems. Y/N and he were definitely lucky with their firstborn being like June. Sometimes he’ll credit his efforts in teaching June meditation early, and depending on the day, Y/N agrees. 

As he dries the plates to put back in their cupboards, June walks in. 

“Hiya bug. C’mere give Poppa hug.”

June rolls her eyes (he’s having a hard time adjusting to these teenager habits) and walks closer to her father. Although she’s extremely close with both of her parents, there is a timeless connection she has with her father. “Not a child anymore dad. And please, do not call yourself poppa again. You’re not that old yet.” She mumbled in his chest, clearly needing the affection.

“Mom said you wanted to talk? Want her there?”

“Uhm. Maybe we could just talk in my room please.” 

“Of course, let me just put these plates all back” Harry smiled, only letting go of the hug once he felt June move away. A small trick he learned from his mother after she attacked him with countless parenting trips: never let go in a hug with your child, let them determine when the hug is over. It gives them more comfort and stability in their lives and although he saw this as minimal, he understood its significance.

“I’ll help.”

----

As they walked to June’s room, they caught Y/N walking back from the twins’ room. “Hey baby, twins are done for. I’ll be in the room. “ She pecks Harry quick on the lips and turns to June to wrap her in a hug. “Love you cutie,” she winks at June as she goes to her room.

“Love you momma” June smiles, happy that she has a supportive family like this one. 

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Harry smiles, his arm going back to June’s shoulders, giving it a squeeze. 

Once they get to her room, both take a seat on June’s bed. Her back is on the headboard while Harry sits at the edge facing her, cross-legged. Every once in a while June would request to speak to Harry, Y/N,  or both of her parents on the issues bothering her. Harry and Y/N were proud of having a daughter that felt comfortable enough to communicate with her parents, and they always were looking for new ways to enrich themselves with the issues kids have a different ages. 

“Speak to me June, what’s on your mind lady?” Harry starts, initiating the push. He can tell that she’s struggling to bring her thoughts to words.

“Did you....well. How did you ... realize you didn’t like ... uhm, just girls?” She hesitantly asked, too flustered to look at her father on such a strange topic. 

Oh, it’s happening, Harry thought. “Well, I was pretty young, I guess around your age, and I realized that I just wasn’t fully straight. It developed from there I guess, I talked to a few friends about it, spoke to your grandma, and eventually met a boy I really liked. It was really scary, I’m not going to lie, figuring out my feelings at that point. After that, it wasn’t a big deal and everyone in the family understood. I just knew something like gender wasn’t a big deal to me, and if I liked someone I liked them. But it’s different for everyone. Your mom can tell you how she found out she’s bi.”

June was soaking in the information her father gave her. She knew both of her parents weren’t straight, but hearing how they found it out was something entirely different. It wasn’t that she was foreign to the concept, but in personal terms, it was utterly confusing. 

She finally looked to her father, giving him a small smile at the personal information he shared. They were a very open family, but something about this felt even more personal. “But, did you ever think you were faking it?” 

“Not really, but you already know how pretentious your father is,” he chuckled, lighting the mood. “Your mother, as she’ll tell you, had a completely different experience. Said she struggled for years thinking she was either faking it or actually completely gay! She once told me that she just couldn’t disclose it with anyone, and that led her to a lot of contemplation. But if you’re feeling this way too, I need you to know your mother and I are here to support you in any way we can.”

“Dad,” June scrunched her eyes looking down at her crossed legs. “I think I might like girls. Or at least, I think. After Sage told me she’d ditched me I just realized I don’t like her just as a friend.” 

At this moment, tears began to form in her eyes from all the confusion. Instantly Harry brought her into aa encompassing bear hug, keeping her safe in his chest. It hurt him to see her going through this dilemma, the inter-workings of adolescents were never fun. 

“It’s just,” June suddenly choked on a sob, grasping her dad’s hoodie. Harry began to rub her back for support. “I like her I think. Like really like her dad. I don’t want her to date a boy, I want to date her. But she won’t like me and...I don’t know! Why did this have to happen to me!” She continued, clearly soaking his hoodie.

“Oh baby, please don’t ever think this is a bad thing. Sexuality is a spectrum, many of our friends are somewhere on it, and you already know Elizabeth and Mary are married. This is a beautiful thing to discover baby. But yes, I won’t lie to you, it’s going to be hard. There may be times you like someone who doesn’t like girls but bug, that’s simply life.”

“What if I am dad. I don’t know if I like boys at all.”

“Then you are. As simple as that. You can label how you feel or not, it’s all about what feels most comfortable to you. As you know, your mother and I will be here to support you in any way we can. If you like girls, so be it, you’re still our daughter and you know that. If you like boys, which I mean yuck,” he imitated a gagging noise, rising a laugh out of June “then okay. Both or everyone? It’s all okay bub. I do want you to think about it, It might take some time to accept it but we’re accepting you any way you are. You’re so beautiful and strong, and your sexuality doesn’t diminish that in any way.” He made sure to hug her tightly as he said this, expressing his full support. 

“Dad, thank you.” June exhaled, releasing herself to wipe her tears. 

“Of course, June. I’m so happy you were able to tell me this, I know it must’ve been hard.”

After a deep breath, June looked calmer after her small crisis. “I knew you guys would be okay with anything but it’s just, much harder than I expected to really like your friend who doesn’t like you.”

“It’s hard, so so hard. Ask your mum, seriously I swear she told me she also liked one of her friends at your age. Universal gay experience perhaps?” Harry pondered. 

June gave a small laugh to that. “Yeah, I’ll ask. I don’t want her to think I left her out of this, it’s just that I’ve heard about your sexuality in the media more.”

“Pesky things, but I understand. It was so hard for your mom in comparison to me. Do you want me to let her know first, is it okay that I let her know you might be questioning?” He gave her daughter a sincere inquisitive look, valuing consent over everything. 

“Yeah, of course. Probably talk to her tomorrow after we drop the twins off. I really appreciate it, dad.”

“No problem bug. Let’s get you tucked away.” 

__________ part 2

OH MY GOD this is my first I HOPE YOU LIKE. please any feedback would be so sexy. 

[gale-gentlepenguin]

"You told someone who you are."

The pleasant afternoon patrol had taken a turn with the sudden accusation.

Ladybug felt a chill go down her spine as the words hung in the air. The spotted heroine turned to her cat themed crime fighting partner. She could see that his usual kind eyes and care free smile were absent from his face. This was serious Chat noir.

"W-what makes you assume that?" Ladybug asked, not outright confirming or denying the allegation.

The cat walked closer, his eyes watching her expression like a detective interrogating a criminal.

"Its a lot of things Ladybug." His comment exuded assurance. It wasn't false bravado either, Ladybug could feel it in her gut, chat noir was pretty sure. "For one, the sudden shift in attitude."

"Im pretty sure my attitude has been pretty consistent." Ladybug dismissed.

"Yes, for the last few weeks it has. But considering your rant at the movie theater, and right after that fight with the group of akumatized girls, your mood took a sudden shift back. It was almost as if it never happened."

"I just found a new way of coping with things, it has done me well. Besides, I am not 100%, I am still stressed. I just have a healthier way of dealing with it now."

The cat nodded, he could tell she wasn't lying to him.

"That does check out." Chat noir admits. "But I wouldn't be accusing if I didn't have more then that."

Ladybug held in her sigh, seems she wasn't done dancing in this minefield of questions.

"Next would be your messages."

"My messages?"

"Your communicator goes off much more frequently as of late. And you take the time to answer them."

"Our real phones are connected to our miraculous. Cant have people be suspicious. Isn't it best to answer when possible?"

Ladybug was seeing chat noir accept her reasoning. Perhaps he will relax about the whole thing. Until she noticed a shift in demeanor.

"Yep, makes total sense. So tell me, why would you want to tell me all about the akuma we fought yesterday?"

That wasn't good. She looked at her communicator and sure enough she saw the text she had thought she had sent to Alya yesterday.

'You're not going to believe the fight we had to day. The akuma was intense. I will give you deets later."

Ladybug realized she had message chat noir around the same time that day, a mix up of messages wasn't impossible. She mentally cursed.

"I.... meant to send that to Su Han.... he was going to be helping me figure things out and..."

"You and I both know he doesn't know how to work a phone, let alone text." Chat noir stated.

Ladybug realized she was caught.

"Chaton Im sorry I didn't tell you sooner..."

"Don't you 'Chatton' me! You aren't sorry you didn't tell me, you are sorry I found out." Chat noir shot down her apology.

"How was I suppose to tell you?" Ladybug shot back. "Hey Chat noir, I just wanted to let you know that I broke our rule about keeping our identities a secret because I was going through an emotional break down from all of the stress!"

"Yes! That would've been better than finding out that my supposed partner doesn't trust me at all!"

"We've been over this, We can't know each others identities. It is way too dangerous for either of us to know right now."

"THATS NOT WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!"

Ladybug paused.

"I tried to reach out to you, I tried to help you. I saw you were hurting and wanted to be there for you. But... but I guess you never thought of me as someone you could depend on did you."

"Chat noir... its not that I couldn't depend on you... its that you couldn't get the whole picture. I couldn't tell you, you wouldn't have been able to understand."

"But Rena Rouge could?"

The question pierced her heart like a bullet. Chat noir waited for her response, but it was clear that words were not going to come out. So he spoke.

"The ladyblogger? Thats the person you decide to confide in. The one that posts facts and information on us on a daily basis?!"

Ladybug tried to say something against but Chat noir continued. But his tone calmer.

"I guess it makes sense though."

"It does?"

"She was the first person you picked to assist us. Though I only found that out recently. She would need to be someone you trusted to tell them your secret. So maybe you do know her well enough to know she won't rat out your secret."

"She is more trustworthy then you know." Ladybug defended.

"Of course, you're the guardian now. You would trust the people you've picked, or you would never pick them." Chat noir continued.

"Yes. That is true. I trust the people I picked."

Chat noir nodded.

"Okay then. So that answers the next question"

"What question?"

"Why you didn't trust me to help you."

"Chat noir that is not equivalent to..."

"You didn't pick me to be chat noir. That was master fu. Is that the reason you still want me as Chat noir? An obligation to our memory wiped masted? The one that wanted to keep me in the dark longer? Are you keeping up his traditions? Cause if you are then you are doing a great job! Its just like before. No, its worse then before." Chat noir ranted.

"That is not true and you know it! I couldn't be ladybug without you. You are important to me. Yes, I didn't tell you I told someone my identity. But that doesn't mean I don't trust you! Your are my partner."

Chat noir turned around walking away from her. He took a deep breath, exhaling all of the anger, hurt and pain in one action.

"Chat noir!" Ladybug called out.

"Im not going to quit being chat noir if thats what your worried about." He said without looking at her. "If you want me to give up the miraculous, I will accept without question."

Ladybug noticed how formal the cat hero had become. It unnerved her. His expression and tone were serious, as if he was actively suppressing his emotions. It felt so... wrong.

"I don't want you to quit." Ladybug answered. Her voice softer, filled with concern and worry over what was going through the cat hero's head.

"Then I will stay as Chat noir."

Chat noir began waling to the edge of the rooftop.

"Wait... Chat noir. I am sorry... About everything. I should have told you what I did sooner... I should have..."

"I think thats enough of a patrol for the day. Let me know if you need anything else, Master Ladybug." Chat noir replied, ignoring her apology.

Chat noir jumped from the roof, leaving Ladybug on the rooftop, to grieve the death of their partnership.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.15

Stressed

01/16/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,747

Warnings: angst, jealousy, anxiety, talks of pregnancy, conception troubles

A/N: I’m sorry this came so late and that it’s taking me time to get these out. I’m writing very slowly right now and I only have my brain to blame. I’m finding it so hard to focus right now and I’m not sure why. I’ve gotten away from my usual habit of writing when I wake up and before I go to sleep. Hopefully, I’ll get back to normal soon. I hope y’all like (hate?) this chapter! Things will start to get tough from here on out. I hope y’all will stick with me through it. xoxo

“Well, I’ve got to get back to my girls. Some of them have taken to sneaking out at night in an attempt to earn their wings. If I catch them, I get to make them do whatever I want and I’m not going to lie, it’s the best part of my day.”

Hilde smiles at you, and you try to give her a returning social exchange with the same energy but your mind and eyes keep drifting back to the astronomer across the room currently chatting with Bruce and Tony animatedly about something scientific that you don’t understand.

“Are you seriously stressing about her?” Hilde asks, exasperated with you already.

“No,” you answer with your feathers obviously ruffled. “I’m not.”

Hilde clearly doesn’t believe you as she skews her lips and tilts her head.

“I’m not!”

You say it too loudly and the trio on the other side of the table turn to look at you.

“Not what?” Tony asks, brow furrowed a little with curiosity.

“She’s not tired,” Hilde covers. “How about a tour from Her Majesty?”

“Uh, yeah, I can give you all a tour of the palace. It’s really big.”

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “No tour for me. As fun as following you around while you brag about how much bigger your house is than mine sounds, I just spent weeks in the trenches and I’m going to try and get some sleep or Pepper will ground me and won’t let me come out and play. So, I think, good night?”

“Right. Of course, yeah. Estrid?” You call out to the two large open doors.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Estrid hurries into view, giving you a quick curtsy before standing with her hands at her front.

“Can you show Mr. Stark-”

“Really?” he asks, incredulous.

“Sorry, habit,” you laugh nervously. “Can you show Tony to his room, please? And Bruce?”

“Uh, yeah. I’d love some sleep,” he nods, rubbing his chest with one hand in slow circles.

“And Bruce as well,” you nod to Estrid who gives you another curtsy.

They all begin to stand, shoving their chairs back in under the table and taking a last drink.

“And…” with odd trepidation, you look at your husband’s very recent former lover and try not to feel too overwhelmed. “Jane?”

“No, actually I was hoping I could speak with you?”

She takes a step towards you, hands pulled to her front as she fidgets with the tips of her fingers for a second then drops them at her sides.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Thank you, Estrid. When you’ve escorted the gentlemen to their rooms, come find me so that you can show Jane hers when she’s ready.”

“Very good, Your Majesty,” Estrid nods, another curtsy before she turns to Bruce and Tony who now look nervous too as they give you and then Jane inquisitive looks. “This way, gentlemen.”

As Estrid disappears into the hallway, Tony and Bruce follow slowly leaving you, Hilde, and Jane to stand awkwardly in the smaller of the two dining rooms in the palace.

“Should I stay?” Hilde wonders, inching a little closer to you and reaching out to grab your elbow.

“Hm? No. It’s okay. But if you’re going-?”

“Your Majesty,” Heimdall’s warm voice fills the space strangely washing over you with a soothing calm.

Something about Heimdall always makes you feel at ease and the night suddenly seems very bearable.

“Heimdall will be taking over your care until Thor returns, is that alright?” Hilde checks, sounding genuinely worried.

“Will I do, Your Majesty?” Heimdall asks, his voice a gentle teasing.

“Of course, Heimdall!” your huff of a laugh pulls from him a gentle chuckle and he moves around towards you to draw your hand up to his lips.

It’s a genuine sign of respect and it warms your heart.

“Alright, well, I’m off. I will see you tomorrow, Your Majesty. Jane.” Hilde gives her a nod and quickly slides from the room eager to catch her troops out of bed.

Heimdall makes his way towards Jane and as she turns to him, she smiles wide, “Heimdall, it’s so nice to see you again.”

“Jane Foster,” he says her name in full though it doesn’t sound as if he’s being formal.

In fact, they sound pretty close.

“It has been quite a while.” They hug and your heart gives a strange uncertain clench. “How are you?”

“I’m good, all things considered,” Jane says.

All things considered? What things considered?

“Yes, well…” Heimdall leaves his words hanging there, full of meaning that you don’t understand and suddenly the warmth his greeting had left you with is gone and in its place is a sense of intrusion.

Jane was the Queen they had all been expecting. Suddenly feeling dismal, you turn away from their reunion to fill up your fancy silver cup with wine and take a nice long drink.

Without turning back around to look at her because in the moment you can’t really bear it, you address her and hope that your voice doesn’t give you away.

“What was it that you wanted to speak to me about, Jane?”

Hopefully it has nothing to do with Thor or you might just lose your head a little. While a part of you would very much like to bury the hatchet and put everything that happened with her and Thor in the past behind you, in this moment, the last thing you want to do is talk about how she is or was the love of his life.

That you know, right?

This is all so fucked.

“I was actually just wondering if you had a space that I could set up my equipment? Somewhere with clear access to the sky is preferable, and lots of space? I’ll need to set up my equipment to show Thor--and yourself what I’ve been seeing the last few months.”

You can hear it in her voice that she added you as an afterthought. She came to show Thor. To see him?

You hate this sudden insecurity growing inside of you, this second guessing that didn’t even exist until she walked into your home tonight.

Are you thinking too much? Is this wrong of you? Thor is your husband. He loves you. He says it every day. Several times a day because he knows you need to hear it. He physically shows you, also several times a day if he can. Just today, in the hallway downstairs…

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts, pulling you from your thoughts.

You dismiss his concern without acknowledging it because it’s in his all-seeing eyes. Instead, you focus on Jane.

“I have the perfect space. It’s a bit of a walk. I mean, it’s still on palace grounds, just a bit further up the hill behind us. But it’s an observation tower Loki was having built probably for this exact reason.”

“Perfect,” she smiles, then moves to her chair to pick up a large brown bag you hadn’t noticed she’d brought in here with her. “After you?”

Heimdall follows behind the two of you and Jane follows a step behind as you lead her out of the palace back entrance which is hidden behind a smaller room behind the throne room.

The night is chilly and you wrap your arms around yourself and regret the shorter choice of dress.

Jane also seems to shiver for a moment but her own clothes are more tailored to the weather outside than yours is. Her shiver passes.

“Do you enjoy living here?” she asks.

For a moment you don’t realize she’s talking to you, then when no one else answers, you start and quickly clear your throat.

“Yes, I do. I mean, it’s cold a lot. I’ll be glad when Summer’s here. Spring is also kind of on the chillier side.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, as if she’s been here often.

The silence after her affirmation grows tense and your heart begins to pound as your mind goes into a flurry of what she might have gotten up to here in New Asgard before you’d come into the picture.

Warmth suddenly envelops you and you turn to look at Heimdall as he places his dark cloak over your shoulders.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” you gasp, reaching up to pull the cloak around yourself more tightly.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Heimdall nods, “It’s my honor.”

The terrain suddenly grows more rugged and Heimdall is quick to offer you his arm as you adjust your steps to accommodate the rockier path.

You make a mental note to have this pathway fixed. Smoothed out and maybe even given a railing as it gets steeper.

The only thing you can hear is the sound of three pairs of feet trudging along shifting stone and dirt then a softer step as the hill evens out a bit more and becomes covered in grass.

When you don’t have to look down at where you’re stepping anymore, you look up at the tower that looms ahead.

The base is made of heavy stone, each placed with precision and reinforced with steel supports. Wooden beams line each of the corners, decorated with carved images of what you can only assume are Asgardian moments in history.

When you’d come to see its progress at the beginning of its creation, you’d recognized the images of Thor and Odin in battle just above the beam that lines the doorway.

The rest of the tower is a mix of wood, stone, and iron. The aesthetic is very much like the palace, Asgardian curves and shapes fit into more modern Norse lines.

The three of you stop as you reach it and Heimdall hurries forward to throw the large door open.

As you step through, you see that the inside of the tower has not changed much since the last time you came to inspect it.

The bottom floor is a large empty room with only a fireplace against the back wall, exposed rafters up above before the height is cut short by the ceiling.

“Wow,” Jane does sound impressed, “This is great. Is there a-?”

“Upstairs,” you point towards the staircase to the right that rises up around the side of the room. “There’s another room, smaller, but it has a lot of balcony space.”

“Great! Thanks,” she sighs with relief as if she really didn’t expect you to give her some space to work, then heads towards the staircase.

“Um, there’s no furniture in here yet. I’ll have someone bring you some tables and chairs, is there anything more specific that you need?”

Jane stops at the foot of the stairs then turns to look at you and then the space of the bottom floor.

“Would it be possible to get a bed in here? You’re right, and it is a long way from the palace. I’m gonna be in here probably all the time so…?”

You know that she isn’t asking for the impossible or anything out of the question, but suddenly the idea of making this tower her little space has a whole other life playing out in your head.

A life where you had married Thor and he had been unable to give up Jane. A life of her living here at the palace with you in her own space where Thor can come and be with her in private away from prying eyes while still giving the appearance of being with you, his Queen in name only.

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts you quietly, reaching out to touch your elbow again and pull you from the pain and panic you’re trying to hide.

You force a smile, a small shake of your head, “Yes, of course. Sorry, I’ve had a busy day. I’ll have them bring you everything you need within the hour.”

“Thank you. Once I have everything set up I’ll make sure to show you what I’ve found and then Thor can um, plan for what might come?”

“Of course,” you agree, eager to get the hell out of here and back to your room where you can fall apart in private. “Now, I hope you’ll excuse my bad hosting skills, but I really am super tired and I think I’m going to turn in a little early.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! No problem at all,” Jane smiles, “Thank you for all your help. And dinner! Dinner was so good. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. I’ll let Cook know,” you nod, hoping that your smile isn’t too tense for the moment. “Good night.”

“Night!”

You’re almost grateful for the cold night air as it bites the skin of your cheeks. Anything is better than the stress you just felt in that tower.

You hear the heavy door of the tower close behind you, then Heimdall’s footsteps join your own though your heavy breathing is alone as he walks calmly beside you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Heimdall wonders, gentle and honestly concerned.

“I’m fine,” You lie.

“Does having Jane Foster here bother you? There is no need for you to worry. I have seen Thor be with many women-”

“Oh, my God,” and you can’t help but huff a laugh. “Not helping, Heimdall.”

“-and I have never seen him be with anyone the way he is with you. It’s more than just love. It's a partnership. Companionship. It’s friendship. Trust. After their initial reconnection, Thor’s trust in Jane and their courtship dwindled and as you know, by the end, it was completely gone.”

“So, what you’re saying is he’s so sure that I love him that he has no reason to worry?”

Which is true, you do and he has no reason to worry about you not loving him or falling for someone else at this point. You can’t even imagine being with anyone the way you’ve been with Thor.

“He’s not afraid to lose me?” You hate giving into these thoughts.

Honestly though, talking about them to someone will help you sleep tonight. Maybe.

“Yes,” Heimdall agrees. “And no. Even now, this very moment, all he can think of is you.”

You stop walking, stunned by his words because you’ve never asked him to look for you. You’ve heard Thor ask him to see things before, to search, and Heimdall always has. It had never crossed your mind to do the same.

Then again, this is the first time you and Thor have been apart since before you were married.

“What-You can see him?” Heimdall looks down at your feet, focuses what must be his mental eyes, and then slowly nods.

“He’s distressed at leaving you here alone, he’s finding it hard to focus on what Fandral is telling him and Fandral is growing more and more upset.”

You smile, completely absorbed by this information.

“Did he ever ask you to look for her? For Jane?”

Your words are quiet, hesitant, though your heart feels slightly more at ease by Heimdall’s reassurance.

“In the very beginning of their courtship, just after he left Earth and the bifrost was destroyed. Their love was new then. It was short-lived. Then Thor came back to Earth and they were able to be together, for a time.

“But their compatibility has always had its trials. After some time together, Thor was called back to the Universe and Jane had her own work to do. Their responsibilities have always pulled them apart and if I’m honest, Thor is the more hopeless romantic between them.”

You think about all of the small things that Thor has done for you since you came back home. The flowers, the baths, surprise dinners, the small presents hidden under your pillow or in drawers he knows you’ll get into. He’s done a lot more to show you he’s thinking about you during the day than you have and you can understand what Heimdall is saying.

You’re not so much a gift giver in love it seems, and instead give him all of the affection he’d seemed so starved for in the beginning.

“Her being here will not damage your marriage. Trust me.” Heimdall finishes.

You lead the walk again, moving slower but calmer after Heimdall’s reassurance.

“Will you come back up and check that Jane gets everything she needs? We really should have had the tower set up a long time ago.”

“As soon as I am certain you are in your quarters safe, with a guard outside your door, yes. I can ensure that she has everything that she requires.”

For a few minutes you walk in silence, at ease. When you reach the back doors of the palace however and he holds the doors open for you, you turn to Heimdall and after a quick bite to your lip, “Is he still with Fandral?”

Heimdall smiles and nods, “Fandral is yelling at him for not paying attention.”

Both of you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s so early when you wake. It’s still dark outside and you’re almost sure that sunrise is still a few hours away.

You’re exhausted. Eyes burning as you push yourself up and the night plays itself over.

So suddenly you’re anxious again, nerves making your fingertips tingle and your stomach do an uncomfortable flip as you turn over onto your back to look at Thor’s side of the bed.

It’s undisturbed. Both pillows are still in their made up position.

He said he’d be back very late at night, early morning at the latest. You’d been hoping for the former.

With a groan, you sit up, sliding slowly down to the end of the bed and the bench where Thor sits to put his boots on.

You’re so groggy. The night was restless and you’ve really only gotten about an hour of sleep. Two at the most.

It’s stuffy in the room, the fire still burning and leaving you a little sticky from being huddled underneath a heavy blanket because you’d missed the weight of Thor’s arms all night.

The large glass doors across from you rattle from the wintry breeze outside, beckoning you forward for relief from this heat.

As you step on the floor, your body is rocked with a shiver that pushes you up onto your toes. As fancy as this palace is, you’ll have to ask Thor if it’s possible to get some heated floors installed.

Moving as quickly as you can, you don’t stop until you’re at the doors and then thrust them open and absolutely inhale the frigid late night air.

You scan the distant ocean as it spreads into the horizon, the sky it touches still an inky black with a breathtaking scattering of stars.

You can hear the Valkyrie below in their barracks and training grounds already working hard to get into shape. Hilde must have really caught them sneaking out.

Heimdall should be waiting close by. You really want to see if he has news about Thor’s schedule and if maybe he’s on his way home and just running late.

As you turn to walk back into the room, you freeze as your eyes scan the tower you’d set Jane up in.

From this angle you have a clear view of the balcony. She’s already set up her equipment. You didn’t know that you could see this well into the tower.

It’s all lit up like a beacon in the dark.

It’s an unpleasant reminder that she’s here and you make a mental note to keep the curtains drawn when you know she’s up there. Which you realize that unfortunately, will probably mean all the time.

Sighing, you move towards the door but then freeze again as Thor moves from the balcony doorway towards a large telescope attached to what looks like heavily modified computers.

He’s still in uniform, smiling. Behind him, Jane follows, arms wrapped around herself before she stops too close to Thor for your liking.

She rushes around him and looks through the eyepiece. You can see her talking away, mouth moving at the speed of light as she explains something to him, her hands flying around her as she talks, apparently the cold is forgotten.

She pulls away from the telescope as Thor chuckles then moves back inside out of sight as Thor sidles up to the eyepiece but doesn’t touch it yet.

The telescope moves, clearly Jane adjusting it from inside where she must have set up her computer equipment.

Thor takes a step back then the telescope stops and Jane flutters back out onto the balcony and gestures for Thor to look through.

He does, Jane moves in beside him, saying something that must be a whisper if she’s standing that close. He says something back.

The two of them having a pleasant conversation.

The clench in your chest feels choking.

Thor pulls back from the eyepiece and turns to look at her.

He’s too far away for you to see his expression, too small. But their faces are so close and he doesn’t pull away.

You sink back into your room, terrified to see something that will ruin the perfect bliss you’ve been in these first three months of your marriage.

Not that it isn’t already ruined. You’ve been a mess since Jane showed her face and now with what you just saw, how can you feel anything but lousy?

You don’t do what you want to do. You don’t slink back into bed and hide under the covers to wallow.

Instead you move to your closet and look for a dignified dress. Something that you can wear that will scream Queen of New Asgard but also be relaxed enough for you to work in.

You choose something with a simple cut. Long sleeves, a deep V in the front, with a loose flowing skirt but a tight bodice to match the equally tight sleeves. The color is an iridescent black that shimmers in teal and startling pink.

The color reminds you of the northern lights with a splash of the hazy pink in the orion nebula. It’s beautiful and otherworldly, and it screams Queen of Asgard in casual formal.

With the dress you move back into the room and hang it on the small stand in front of the full length mirror by your vanity before grabbing some new underwear and moving into the bath.

You ignore the large tub you and Thor have spent hours upon hours in and quickly shower instead. You emerge fresh and clean, though not exactly refreshed.

You’re stepping out of the shower when your bedroom doors open and you freeze, staring at them as they swing forward with your hands pressed to the top of your towel holding it shut.

Your heart drops when Estrid smiles prettily at you, turning around to close the doors as she greets you.

“Good morning, Your Majesty, did you sleep well?” She moves straight for your vanity to pull out the brush, pins, and makeup she usually uses on you in the morning.

She’s in here much earlier than normal and she can’t have gotten that much sleep herself. She’s so attuned to you now that you’re worried for her but also grateful.

“Good morning, Estrid,” you reply, refusing to answer her question because she’d only worry. “Did Ms. Foster get all of the things she needed in the tower?”

“Yes, m’am. Heimdall made sure that she had everything she would need for her research before he retired to stand guard at your door.”

You have an endless stream of questions about Thor in your head, things you want to ask Estrid but you bite your tongue as Estrid helps you on with your dress then sits you down at your vanity to dry your hair and work on today’s set of braids.

Time passes as she works. Time that feels like seconds to you as your mind works hard to try and reassure your heart that you have nothing to worry about, and yet, it still aches.

“You’re very quiet this morning, Your Majesty,” she observes.

“Yeah. I don’t really feel like talking unless I have to.”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” she accepts, but then after a few minutes of silence. “Are you not feeling well? Shall I send for the doctor?”

“No, Estrid. I’m not sick. I’m-shit, what’s the date today?”

Reaching around, you look for your phone to check the date.

“‘Tis the fifteenth, Your Majesty,” Estrid informs you.

“Did you forget about me already?” A deep smooth voice slides in from your doorway and you turn in search of the comfort the tone gives you.

“David!”

On your feet and across the room, David greets you with open arms. A small firm hug is what he gives you before kissing the side of your head and then pushing you back to look at you.

His eyes linger on your stomach for a moment before he frowns playfully.

“Nothing yet? I guess we’ll find out today if we’re to expect anything in the next month.”

“No pressure,” you reply sarcastically.

David chuckles, his fancy four piece navy suit a display of his busy nature. As much as he wants to visit, you know that he’s busier now with so many people wanting his services. The prestige of being the Queen of New Asgard’s lawyer has brought him a windfall.

Not that he needs it, but he appreciates the work.

“I did forget we had a testing today. Something happened yesterday.”

Your voice filters into a whisper at the end, though you’re not even aware of it.

David matches your energy, though he doesn’t whisper, he recognizes your stress and concern saturates his entire person.

“What’s happened?”

“I-” You look towards Estrid, and she’s so good that she’s cleaning your vanity, ignoring your conversation as best she can, but still. “Estrid, were you finished with my hair?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she turns to you and smiles. “Will you be needing anything else? Breakfast in the breakfast room?”

“Are you hungry, David?”

“No, I’m not. Thank you.”

“No breakfast, Estrid. Thank you. When the doctor arrives, can you show him in?”

Estrid curtsies, and without another word, she leaves you and David in the room.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” David tells you as he moves towards the small table in the corner to sit but waits for you to reach your chair first to pull it out for you.

“Thanks, I chose it very carefully,” you admit. “Does it make me look like a real Queen?”

“You are a real Queen,” David assures you, then cocks his head as he registers your stress again. “What happened last night?”

You sigh heavily, using your nails to pick at the woodgrain of the table, shoulders slouched a little as you deflate.

“Jane showed up with Tony and Bruce,” you reveal, a shaky breath accompanying your desperate information.

“Oh? At Thor’s invitation?” David wonders, which honestly sobers you up a little from your depression.

“No. I don’t think so. I mean, Tony and Bruce were supposed to come to install a security system for the palace and I guess maybe she just tagged along?”

“And you are upset that your husband’s former lover has forced her way into your new home.”

It’s not a question. David has always been very observant and he sucks for it. Jerk.

“Well...yeah. But that’s not why-”

“Something else happened?”

David leans towards you and places his hand over yours, a soft knowing look on your surrogate father’s face.

With a quick little sigh you tell him about your stress over not getting pregnant and the pressures from the ambassadors to do that before more time goes by to secure the ties between the Asgardians to Earth. You tell him about your worries about Jane that have died down a little since you and Thor got married but have never truly gone away. Lastly, you tell him about what you saw this morning and how you’d been expecting Thor to come directly to you when he got back but clearly that’s not happening.

“Maybe I’m being too sensitive? But I mean, it’s been what? An hour and a half since you got here and he still hasn’t come to look for me?”

You reach over and rub your arm, the soft fabric of your dress pleasing but only in the back of your mind where you’re not thinking about Thor and Jane.

“If that is how you feel, then that is how you feel. The important part now is talking to Thor about it. Couples lose out when they feel about something the way that they do and then keep it to themselves. Even Gods are not mind readers.”

David tilts his head, eyes looking across the room for a moment before he looks right back at you.

“At least not to my knowledge.”

You almost smile, but the stress of talking to Thor about this is giving your anxiety a nice boost.

“What if I don’t like what he says?”

“Then you don’t like it. You cannot avoid the confrontation because you might not hear what you want to hear. That is not how a marriage, or any relationship works. In big moments like these, honesty I think is the best policy.”

He’s right of course. You know he is. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

You close your eyes and try to see Thor’s handsome face smiling sweetly at you, just as he had yesterday before he left. Instead you see him smiling down at Jane next to that stupid telescope, him chuckling at whatever she’s saying as she talks away about her work.

Two knocks to your door pull you from your stupid thoughts and drop your heart into the pit of your stomach, but Estrid peeks in to make sure that you’re okay to see her.

Suddenly, you’re dreading seeing Thor.

“Come in, Estrid.”

She moves in, behind her follows two doctors. One is a woman with a lovely heart shaped face and long full dark brown hair that compliments her olive skin. She’s wearing a sleek gray pantsuit, pink camisole underneath, and a thick black coat draped over her arm.

Her name is Amana Wilson and she has been your gynecologist since David gave you your inheritance and you were able to afford better healthcare.

The second doctor is an older man with a thick black beard streaked through with bits of gray. He glows an almost ethereal way. Clearly Asgardian. Your general caregiver since you moved to New Asgard, Doctor Alric Orvinson smiles eagerly, kindly, a pure excitement radiating off of him.

He’s always so eager to put everything he’s learning into practice.

Doctor Wilson curtsies and Doctor Alric bows before they both greet you in unison.

“Your Majesty,” they say.

David waits until you’re standing before he stands too, but then he moves towards the doors.

“I think I’ll go have some of that breakfast you offered me,” he tells you then makes his way towards the large doors. “Doctors, I know you will give Her Majesty the best care you can offer?”

“Of course,” Doctor Wilson assures him and he leaves you with a quick wink of his eye.

“Thank you, Estrid. Make sure David gets a proper meal? No pop tarts!”

“Party pooper!” David shouts back.

Estrid curtsies, “Right away, Your Majesty.”

She leaves you quickly with a chuckle in her throat at your exchange with David.

As the door closes, you take a step towards your doctors and slowly release a held breath.

“So, what will it be today? Should I go strip or…?”

“No. Not today. Since we did a physical on you last time, we won’t worry about that during this visit,” Doctor Wilson assures you.

“Today, Doctor Wilson will be watching me take some blood and perform a pregnancy test to see if you are expecting our heir!”

Our heir?

New Asgard sees the future prince or princess to come as their own. It’s not just your and Thor’s baby. This baby, if and when there is a baby, is an entire people’s baby.

You feel your anxiety rise again. Clenching your hands, you nod and force a smile as Doctor Alric moves towards you with a large metallic box that he places down and opens.

Inside comes a rush of cold air and what looks like medical equipment used to test blood. You don’t know what it’s called and it’s super high tech. Nothing that you’ve ever seen before.

Your two tests before had been sent to labs and then you’d received the results a few days later, if they’re testing the blood here, does that mean faster results?

“So, how long will I have to wait this time then? To know whether I’m doing my job or not?”

Doctor Alric looks up at you with slight surprise and worry.

There must be something in your voice since he seems to realize what he’s said is putting pressure on you because he stands up straight and fixes his own suit jacket before speaking.

“Your Majesty,” he begins, but Doctor Wilson moves to stand beside you and places her hand on your shoulder.

“Within the hour. This is Stark tech, so it’ll be quick and accurate. Have you been stressing about getting pregnant?” She’s so much softer than Doctor Alric, but not because she’s a woman.

She just knows you better.

“Kinda hard not to with an entire planet waiting for it,” you admit. “Do you think that if-if it’s negative, should Thor and I stop trying so hard? We’re trying daily. No breaks.”

“I think the stress more than the trying will probably make it harder but you’re both healthy. It will happen. If you are tired and you think the stress is too much, then take a break. It won’t do any harm if you lose a couple nights of sleeping with your husband.”

You feel a swell of relief for this human woman who knows just what to say. You give her a sly smirk.

“Have you seen my husband? It’ll hurt.”

She laughs a quick knowing chuckle, “Trust me, you don’t gotta tell me how fine he is, Your Majesty.”

Both of you laugh a few seconds then you take the seat that Doctor Alric sets beside you and while you roll up your sleeve, he and Doctor Wilson fly off into medical jargon that you don’t understand and consequently zone out into thoughts of Thor and why the fuck he still hasn’t come to see you.

[katatty]

Recap: Pleasantview Round 5 (Summer)

The romance of Spring certainly went to a few heads in Pleasantview - the suburb is in the midst of quite the baby boom. But now Summer is here, and school is out! Parents are scrambling to sort out childcare, teenagers are reveling in their freedom, and with the sun shining, the mood in the neighbourhood is pretty great.

But are the families as happy as they seem? Or are some on the brink of collapse? What secrets lurk in their hearts?

The round began with newcomers Tiffany Sampson and Kevin Beare getting settled in. They adopted a puppy, got new jobs, and got to know the neighbours.

Then as Tiffany finished her first day of work in the Education career, she learned she was already pregnant!

They had a quick, slightly rushed wedding before the baby arrived.

Baby Harvey was born, but it already looks like she might be expecting again.

The round ended on a happy note, with the couple already nicely established as a family in town with a few friends!

The Dreamer family started out just as well, but things quickly started to deteriorate.

Due to a combination of bad mental health, recurring nightmares and possible haunting, Brandi Broke isn’t in a good place. Her relationship with Darren suffers for it, too.

Meanwhile Cassandra’s marriage with Don is falling apart, and Darren can’t help being sympathetic. Perhaps a little too much so.

Mia Broke, obsessed with the paranormal, gets herself abducted by aliens, much to her mom’s dismay.

She’s also eager to discuss her theories about the spooky sounds in their yard, but Brandi shuts it down.

Mia goes on a date with Benedick Monty, but it’s kind of a mixed bag.

Back home, Mia and Darren eventually talk about the possible hauntings at home. He admits to her seeing Darleen’s ghost, from time to time.

Brandi also opens up to Mia about her father, Skip.

And Mia is vindicated to finally some ghosts herself!

I played the Lotharios next since I was interested in what was going on with Cassandra.

Cassandra and Don’s relationship has had its ups and downs - neither of them has been 100% faithful, but they’re dealing with it. Maybe? Between raising the twins and focusing on their careers there hasn’t been a ton of time for marriage counselling.

Don’s been feeling a bit isolated, recently. Outside of his family and his coworkers, he doesn’t really have a lot of friends. That’s been deliberate, to an extent. The fewer people around him, the fewer temptations to stray outside of the marriage.

For the most part, it’s been working. But a chance meeting with Nina Caliente has him feeling… confused.

The kids are doing fine, the parents not so much.

She’s always in low aspiration, lately, ever since her Dad passed away. It’s been hard getting on her feet since then, and Don going on about needing “me time” doesn’t help. She needs his support right now more than ever! Why doesn’t he get that?

They don’t talk about it, but both of them are feeling very alone, and starting to lose faith in each other...

Meanwhile, the boys age up. Bernado’s a popularity sim and Cassimiro’s knowledge.

Eventually, things in the marriage finally explode and Cassandra tells Don about Darren, trying to get a rise out of him.

Don immediately retaliates by woohooing with Sharon Wirth on a grocery-run.

After a cool-off day, they agree to break things off, and Don moves out.

He moves in, temporarily, with Bella. Who is insistant that he and Cassie try and patch things up!

He’s more interested in exploring new options, though.

Bella is devestated to lose her job as a party guest.

Meanwhile Oliver Goth (Dina and Mortimer’s son) gets his first kiss with Ariel Capp! Later he goes on a date with Tommy Ottomas, too.

At one of Bella’s parties, Cassandra and Don keep things civil, but Cassandra evidently isn’t doing well.

Bella goes on a date with Gilbert Jacquet. It’s not really all that serious between them, and Bella still misses Mortimer dreadfully, but Gilbert is charming and handsome enough to take her mind of her worries.

Things with Bella and Don also seem to be getting a little heavy, and Don concludes he needs to move out before things cross a line. Bella reluctantly agrees, it’s obvious her plan to get him and Cassie back together hasn’t worked

Don moves to Strangetown!

Next up are the Ramaswami family, a nice breath of fresh air after all the drama.

Priya befriends some of the other mothers in town, becoming especially close to Kaylynn.

And baby Ravi gows into maybe the coolest toddler ever?

Sanjay survives a near death experience.

And Priya finds out she’s expecting again!

Divorced once and with the girls having just graduated college, Daniel Pleasant didn’t expect to be engaged again with a kid on the way as he approached retirement age, doing it all over again. He’s far from unhappy about it, though. Mary Sue always had an independent streak, but Kaylynn adores him. Maybe it’s a bit selfish, but it feels so good to be needed.

Kaylynn knows some people in the neighbourhood look down on her, think her naive, call her a homewrecker… that’s fine. If they worked as a cleaner for years and years maybe they’d consider packing it in and settling into an easy life, too. What’s wrong with wanting to be taken care of?

Notably (and much to my horror) during the Pleasant round, Brandi and John start up their affair again.

Kaylynn finally gives birth, to a baby boy they call Jeffery Pleasant, after Daniel’s father. Daniel’s really pleased!

Jennifer’s eager to meet her new nephew. She and Kaylynn get off to a rocky start, but eventually start to bond.

She’s closest friends with Brandi Broke, though. The two have become inseperable, with Brandi visiting all the time.

Daniel invites both of the girls over to meet their little brother, but Angela is the only twin who shows. Whether that’s because they have a better relationship, or because Lilith was just busy is anyone’s guess.

Then it turns out Kaylynn’s pregnant again already?

Kaylynn and Daniel tie the knot!

Nina and Don also reconcile at the wedding.

Kaylynn gives birth to another baby boy, Luke!

And Jeff ages upp!

Daniel ages up, too. It’s finally time for him to retire, soon...

Daniel’s definitely a bit of a dirty old man, but Kaylynn doesn’t seem entirely oblivious to that side of him, and figures as long as she keeps his needs met they should be fine. We’ll see if that holds up.

Then it was time to catch up with the Shoreharts, who moved here form Widespot for a fresh start.

A retired chef, Sandy’s enjoying her retirement a lot more than she ever enjoyed being a stay at home mom. Granted, all this free time has her a little restless, but it’s nothing a bit of time outdoors and excercise can’t fix. She hopes.

They were honestly pretty chill! Rhett’s taken to the whole marriage thing suprisingly well, for a romance sim. Turns out, as long as he’s getting lovin’ on a regular basis he doesn’t really care if it’s with one woman or several. It’s never boring with Sandy, and he intends to keep her as happy as he can for the rest of her days. That’ll show her shit-heel of an ex-husband.

Mostly they just spend a lot of time with family.

Sandy’s very generious with the backrubs, but nothing goes too far.

Mimi is definitely at least a little anxious about her parents’ marriage though, because she spends some of the round reading up on Couple’s Councelling.

Then it’s time for her to age up! She grows into a rather cute romance sim.

Then at the party the house of cards starts to crumble, as Sandy gives her ex-husband Hamilton a kiss, right in front of Mimi and Rocky.

Mimi agrees not to tell her Dad, but isn’t happy. She spends a lot of time out of the house.

With Sandy keeping her indescretion quiet, I’m not sure what they have in store in the future!

Regardless, next are the Ramirez family.

Tessa’s spent a lot of time looking afte rthe baby and she’s sick of it! So she spends some time Downtown with friends.

She later takes Bernardo on a date, although he’s not sure if he likes her as more than a friend. Bernardo likes the idea of falling in love with Tessa, who he’s always admired! But he’s a little hesitant at the same time, especially with his parents’ divorce still being so recent.

Checo has a bit of a wandering eye, but mostly he keeps himself in check.

Checo might be a bit of a flirt, but at least he’s not a hypocrite. When Lisa was dancing with Skye he didn’t even bat an eye. Or maybe he just doesn’t see an old man as much of a threat…

Ugh, God, I forgot this happened

Baby Sofia grew up super cute!

Anyway, that’s all from them!

The Oldies weren’t too eventful, mostly just focused on hobbies!

They did finally meet Mary’Sue’s new partner, which went... poorly.

But they did have a nice meeting with their grandaughter later, and a fun night out!

Then it was the Burbs! John’s recent indescretions with Brandi aside, things seemed to be going well.

At least, until he made out with Coral Oldie :/

Oblivious to thins, Jennifer was starting to trust John again.

They had dinner with Jen’s brother Dan and his new wife...

And Jennifer discovered she was pregnant again!

Lucy headed away for college...

And baby James grew up, leaving the Burb round complete and Pleasantview all done & dusted!

[just-a-creep-babe]

Captive

(Habit x Reader)

Commissioned by @selfshippinglover thank youuu bby <333

Requests are closed

Masterlist: x

Habit wipes the blade of his hatchet on his pants, smearing blotchy crimson on his washed-out jeans

He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck

Finally home

A grin replaces the sneer on his face as he thinks of his little rabbit waiting for him inside

The thought of seeing your face light up as you rush into his arms is more than enough to coax his sore muscles forwards

He hasn’t been gone for too long, but he knows you‘re always elated to see him—and it goes without saying that the feeling is always mutual, of course

The few steps leading up to the door are speckled with brownish dried blood, almost welcoming him in as he twists the doorknob and steps through the threshold

“I’m back, little rabbit~” he croons into the entrance

His voice is a hint scratchier than it usually is because of his recent… activities, but he knows you’ll be happy to hear the sound regardless

He sets his weapons down on the entrance floor and takes his shoes off as he awaits your reply

He previously never really cared for clean floors and would shamelessly track caked dirt and blood into the house just because he was too lazy to remove his shoes

But after you’d admonished him for giving you even more cleaning to do, he’d been more careful with keeping things somewhat tidy

And, at this point, after living with you for so long, it’s become a sort of habit on its own 

He pauses for a moment as he finishes wiping the filthy dried crimson on his arms with the towel you keep for him by the coat rack

Why didn’t you come to greet him? Did you not hear him come in?

He grunts

He thought he’d taught you better than that

You had to pay attention to your surroundings and stay on guard when he wasn’t there in case anything happened

“Bunny?” he calls out for you again, now making his way into the living room where you should be

But instead of being met with your adorable face, there’s… nothing—no one

His smile drops

Are you sleeping? Did you feel sick and needed to rest?

No, something’s not right—he knows it

He can feel it

His instincts flare up, alarm bells ringing in his mind as he pushes through the empty hallway

“Bunny? You in here? Don’t try to hide from me—“

He rushes to your room, the door slamming open to reveal yet another significant lack of you

The bed’s undone, sheets thrown haphazardly across the mattress, and the curtains are still drawn, like you didn’t have time to properly wake up this morning

His brows furrow

Trepidation spirals through his body, the fear and confusion of you not being there reawakening his overworked muscles like a pure shot of adrenaline

You know better than this

You know to stay put in the house until he comes back—it isn’t like you to just up and leave with no explanation, not even a warning or a note or anything of the sort

A note

He tries to calm himself down, tries to slow his frantic breaths and relax the tension in his jaw

He tells himself that maybe he’s just overreacting

He hasn’t checked the fridge or the counter for any indication of why you might’ve left

Maybe he’s forgetting something, and just needs to think things through before assuming the worst

But then, just as he’s about to turn back for the kitchen, he freezes in his tracks

A note is too optimistic, too hopeful

He has to face the facts; someone‘s taken you

His eyes close shut and he hones in on his superior senses

He sniffs the air once, twice, and a third time

There’s no mistaking the traces of something foul lingering behind

Cold dread licks up his spine

Fists clenched at his sides, his shoulders tense, white hot rage seething through his system at the realization

How could the fucker dare?

He breaths in the scent again, trying to picture its owner, trying to pick it apart from the familiarity of your smell to see what fucking idiot would take you away from him

What imbecile would steal his mate?

The intruding scent is a mix of smoldering charcoals, cinnamon, an expensive cologne and something... husky—definitely masculine

A malignant smile crosses his features as he pinpoints the exact asshole that took you

He lets out a low whistle to himself in the emptiness of the room

“Alright, you wanna play dirty, lapdog? I’ll fucking show you playing dirty”

•••

It doesn’t take long for him to wind up in the middle of the forest where the eldritch prick and most of his lackeys reside

The air is still and stagnant, the musk of rot permeating every direction

Fingers wrapped firmly around the wooden handle of his axe, he moves quietly but quickly—and with steeled purpose—through the withered trees

He knows that walking right into the center of Stick-in-the-Mud’s domain is dangerous

Not to mention that the whole situation reeks of it being a trap

But what other choice does he have?

For you, his one and only beloved mate, he would risk anything

Habit twists his weapon of choice in his hands, maneuvering it through his fingers in an impressive display of skill and control

Besides, he wants to make them pay—he wants to make them regret ever laying a finger on your pretty little head

His lust for revenge churning in the pit of his stomach overpowers any other competing sense

He could picture it in now; how the blade would cut through the entity’s skin like butter, spraying crimson in a beautiful fountain-like gush of his life-force pouring across the dirt

He knows, of course, that he can’t actually kill the bastard so easily, but still, it keeps him content as he weaves through the broken shambles of the path

He has to distract himself, anyways

He doesn’t want his rage to overtake his common-sense, or, at least, whatever’s left of it at this point

Eventually, he finally reaches a clearing where pale, faint traces of sunlight barely peak through the dense thicket of foliage overhead

You’re close, he can feel it

He pauses for a second, closing his eyes and trying to visualize which direction he should head in

Still keeping up with your scent, he lets it guide him between two rotting oak trees until, after a few more paces ahead, he reaches a dilapidated building standing all on its own

From the looks of it, he guesses it was once a hospital, though the windows and doors have long since been removed, and where they once were affixed now lie slits of darkness—the abyss inside peering out into the woods

White chips of paint peel from the exterior, with gnarled twisted vines creeping up the side like fingers caging the structure in place

He can smell your fear and distress from somewhere deep inside of it

The scent overtakes his instincts and he finds himself charging through the entrance without so much as a backup plan

God help whatever stands between him and his mate

The interior of the abandoned hospital still lingers with traces of blood and medicine, coupled with a couple of forgotten operating tables, wheelchairs and other surgical devices

He rushes through every room, every dead-end and vacant hallway—all of them lacking a crucial component; you

Finally, he stumbles across a heavy door reinforced with metal plating, and this time, there’s no mistaking your scent coming through the other side of it

He almost scoffs at the barrier

As if that would be enough to stop him from reaching you

He tugs at the handle and gives it a good pull with all his might, but it doesn’t budge

“Fucking piece of—“ he snarls a few curses under his breath, shifting positions so that he can bash it open with his shoulder

Whap! Smack!

Blow after blow, despite him using all his weight and straining his muscles as hard as he can, the door doesn’t give

He huffs, snarling in frustration

His sight lands on the rusted hinges where the door attaches to the wall

He tugs the axe from the loops in his jeans, twirls it in his hold and smashes it down against the latches

Clang!

The metal bends much more easily than it would’ve if it wasn’t rusted over

One strike after the next, he pictures the hinges as Stick-in-the-Mud’s face, and with only a couple of hits, he manages to tear them off completely

He sheathes his axe back into his jeans, and with one last blow of his shoulder against the door, it flies off into the next room over

The sound of it hitting the ceramic flooring resonates throughout the empty building

He steps over it, and as he walks into this new room, he knows he’s hit the jackpot

A dark silhouetted form is crouched over a figure chained to the floor by their wrists and ankles

A soft, flickering glow emanates from dozens of candles scattered across the room

Before Habit can lunge at the crouched fucker and tear his throat out, he stands up and straightens himself

Slowly, the figure turns, revealing themselves

Candlelight glints off his signature glasses

His expression, as usual, is cloaked in shadow and impossible to read, were it not for the sly smile curling at his lips

“Ah, Habit. I must say, I didn’t expect you so soon. What a shame, really, I was just getting to know your dearest (y/n)~”

He steps to the side—giving just barely enough space to reveal you, eyes wide with a smear of grime on your cheeks, but otherwise apparently unharmed

“H-habit, I—“

“Ah, ah, ah~” the entity cuts you off, playfully wagging his finger in your direction. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, little one. I’m sure you have much to say, but I think Habit and I have a lot more… pressing issues to discuss”

He wants to hurt the bastard more than anything else—for stealing you away, chaining you to the damn floor of all things, and now for talking down to you like you’re below him

He wants to kill him

Painfully

Brutally

But he knows he can’t just blindly charge at him

There’s no way in hell the Observer doesn’t have some kind of fail-safe, and he really doesn’t wanna risk having him teleport away with you

So he forces himself to bide his time and play nice... for now

“Fucking spit it out already,” he urges through gritted teeth

The shadow entity smirks, reveling in his opponent’s lack of control

“It’s about Firebrand,” he begins, “though I’m sure you’re already more than aware of the little situation you’ve put him through”

The Observer absent-mindedly strokes your hair, toying with a strand between his fingers much too comfortably

It has Habit seething from where he’s standing

If looks could kill

"The Operator is none too pleased with your meddling,” he continues, and when you shift, trying to retreat from him touch, he lets your hair fall back down before returning his gaze to the infuriated male in front of him

“He demands a trade,” he finally finishes

Habit folds his arms over his chest, muscles nearly bulging as he tries to keep it together

“What’s done with Firebrand is done—it’s over. Trying to meddle with shit by stealing my fucking mate isn’t gonna fix your unfortunate situation” 

Despite his mind-numbing infuriation, Habit can’t help the faint smile as he thinks about how desperate Stick-in-the-Mud must be to resort to this

“It won’t,” the Observer agrees, “but you found a way to get leverage over us, and now, we have leverage over you. I’m sure we can find some way to balance this predicament we’re in, wouldn’t you agree?”

The candles to the left of the room flicker, then dim out, leaving half of the room completely drenched in shadows

From the corner of his eyes, he catches something moving next to you in the darkness, followed by your startled cry

He jerks forwards, hands reaching for his weapon, but then he stops short as the entity tuts, and your panicked gasps turn into muffled whimpers

He can just barely make out the shape of a tentacle as it curls around your mouth, your eyes looking up at him, big and watery and pleading and dear God, it’s damn near impossible to resist smashing the lapdog’s face in and saving you from that freak

“I don’t have the fucking journal,” his voice splits as he snarls the words out, a special kind of hatred and animosity seeping through at the sight of what he’s doing to you

Hell, just the scent of your fear is unbearable

The Observer smiles, and the tentacles stop moving, stop withering and tightening around your form, leaving you just enough air to breath

“Oh? Then where is it?”

"Fuck if I know”

“Hmm… that so?” dissatisfied with his answer, the tentacles start tightening around you once more

You whimper, crying out, trying to twist and turn as the growing darkness continues to consume you, slowly crushing your windpipes and suffocating your vulnerable form  

“Listen, I’ll bring it to you when I get it. Hand delivered by yours truly with a pretty pink fucking bow on it”

Empty promises tumble from his mouth—anything to make him stop, anything to make him release you

Your fear and panic is worse than any kind of torture

He needs it to stop

And, thankfully, it does

Your breathing goes from frantic gasps and whimpers to short breaths—still erratic but at least without the panicked edge of pain 

He can hear your heart beating like a drum in your chest and he wishes he could comfort you

He’d do anything it takes right now to have you unharmed—no matter the cost

The Observer, no doubt sensing Habit’s urgency, chuckles

He turns his attention back to you, this time tilting your chin up to break the eye contact between you and Habit

“There, see? I told you there was nothing to worry about, little one~”

He strokes your cheek, and you whimper in response, still twisting in his tentacles’ grasps

Without looking away from you, he addresses Habit

“You should watch out for your mate, you know. She’s such an easy little thing to pluck out. And how could you blame me for taking her—she’s such a compelling creature, isn’t she?~”

His smile, admittedly, dazzles you for a moment before you snap yourself out of it

You try to tug your head free but his hold on you is much too strong, so you have to look off to the side—anywhere but at his face

“I told you what you wanted. Now let. Her. Go.”

Habit’s tone is enough to bring shivers down your own spine, even knowing he’s on your side

But the entity, however, seems more or less phased by him

His gaze lingers on your face longer than you’d like, studying you, trying to perceive something within you

Then finally, he breaks the trance, glancing back towards Habit and releasing your face

“Your mate isn’t as impervious as you’d like. I suggest keeping that in mind if ever you get the urge to attempt any silly little tricks you might have”

With those final words, the remaining candles in the room flicker 

Shadows crawl up the entity’s form, then everything goes pitch dark for a moment

In that instance, Habit almost fears the worse

The few seconds it lasts stretch into what feels like an eternity

But then relief like no other surges through him when the candles slowly come back to life, and there, sitting against the far back of the room, is you

You’re still chained, but the tentacles have vanished and you share an equally relieved look in your eyes

He’s by your side in an instant

He scoops you up in his arms, holding you up to his strong, firm chest to cradle you and feel your warmth pressing against him

You wrap your arms around him, overwhelmed at everything that happened in such a short amount of time

Your heart beats frantically against his, and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt safer than you do right now in his arms

You let him hold you tightly for a while, until he finally manages to calm your hammering heart and your body relaxes in his hold

“Are you alright, little rabbit? Did he hurt you?”

He cups your jaw and tilts you face to look up at him, eyes filled with concern

You can tell he has more questions to ask, but for the moment, he holds back

“I’m fine,” you release a shaky breath, laughing nervously, “it’s ok, he didn’t do anything when you weren’t here. I’m alright”

He has to hold back a scowl at the idea of you being trapped with the entity—completely helpless to whatever he wants to do to you

“I’ll fucking rip his throat out if I ever see him again. Bastard’s gonna fucking pay”

You bring your hand up to place it over his chest, wanting to feel his heart beneath your touch

Your chains rattling against the ceramic flooring as you shift, and the sound is enough to snap his attention to them

He growls a few choice words under his breath, and then he’s hugging you closer still, like he wants to make sure you’re real and solid and well and alive

“You wanna head home, little rabbit?”

His tone is gentle and soothing

You nod, shutting your eyes and nuzzling deeply into his neck

There’s a shift in your center of gravity, one that’s barely noticeable, almost like you’re swinging up on a swing set, and then the air gets warmer and the harsh ceramic flooring is replaced with something soft beneath you

He strokes your head, murmuring quiet little nothings into your hair

“It’s alright, little rabbit. I won’t let that happen again. You’re all mine. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. You’re alright, baby. It’s ok, you’re alright…”

You let yourself be consumed by his embrace

His warmth, his scent, the pulse of his heart beneath his skin—you never want him to let you go

But your perfect moment is shattered by a sudden realization

You pull away, and his concern is immediately evident

“Wait… does that mean… did you trade the journal to get me back?”

He gives a wary smile

“You’re worried about some journal after everything you’ve been through?”

Your brows furrow, and you hesitate, chewing your lip

“Isn’t it important?”

Your voice is quiet and uncertain

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with that kind of stuff, bunny. There’s more than one journal. And I promised to give it if I ever got my hands on it. As long as someone else on my side gets it, it’ll be fine”

He playfully boops your nose, a mischievously wild grin on his face

“Stick-in-the-Mud’s lapdogs aren’t as clever as they like to think”

Your shoulders relax again, the guilt immediately melting away

“Oh, that’s good then,” you breathe out, give a small smile

“I love you, little rabbit. You know that, right?”

You nod, a content smile twitching at your lips

“I know. I love you too”