#ill change it if anyones got a better description

[suckinitup]

lil writing I foud in the drafts. TW disassociation and brain fog

Vyncent doesn't feel awake.

He blinks down at the stove, slow, and tries to remember what he was making. Soup, his mind supplies, but that's obviously not right. It's a frying pan in front of him with little cubed pieces of beef. His knife is in one hand, a spatula in the other. There's still muck on his knife. He puts the spatula down in the pan to stir, but his attention is drawn again to his knife. Why hadn't he cleaned it off, yet?

Hands to pocket, finds his cloth, hesitates. Raw meat juice. Can't contaminate anything. That's the important thing in cooking. Not contaminating your surfaces.

Wait. Aren't people raw meat? His cloth is already contaminated, and so is his knife. That's okay then. They're allowed to be gross, the way that cutting boards are allowed to be gross. He'll just have to wash his hands afterwards.

He puts his cloth to the knife and pauses, stares at it. He's just standing there. Everything feels like cotton, like fabric between his finger and an edge.

Careful, that's right, that's what he was trying to remember. Careful along the blade so he doesn't cut, doesn't dull. Just wipes clean.

Knife away. Cloth in pocket. A pan in front of him, sizzling, and a spatula left inside it. He goes to grab the spatula by the handle, remembers the contamination, and withdraws. The sink...?

Behind him. Washing his hands is important. He goes to do that. Nothing is connecting right and he tries to focus on the steps. Water, soap, lather. The sink keeps running. Vyncent stares at the water flow, uncomprehending as his hands run over each other.

"Vyncent?"

Vyncent looks up to see Dakota. "Oh. Hey."

Dakota's eyes sweep over the scene. His eyes narrow a little and he frowns--his thinking face. Vyncent resigns himself to patient waiting, but the expression disappears as quickly as it had arrived. "Bad day?" Dakota asks, voice soft.

"Huh?" 

Vyncent looks down. His hands are still under the running faucet. He doesn't know how long he's been here.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess."

It's a little easier with Dakota there, moving around behind him. Like watching the hands of a clock, seeing the time move in front of him. Vyncent turns off the water, starts dying his hands as he listens to the little click of the stove turning off behind him. Oh, that weird smell is like burning. That's probably what drew Dakota in here. "...Is it rude to order pizza?" Dakota asks, almost hesitant. It's weird for Dakota to act delicate, like Vyncent is fragile. That's a mode usually reserved for William. Vyncent isn't sure how to act when its turned on him. Not sure how to feel about it.

"Nah," Vyncent answers, putting extra effort into the casual shrug of his shoulder. Look at him, feeling fine. "Pineapple?" 

"Will's going to kill you," Dakota says easily. "Yeah, pineapple. Hey, how about a movie?"

"Something scary?"

"I'll ask Will to pick," Dakota decides. He presses forwards, effectively herding Vyncent towards the other room. Vyncent feels mildly irritated, and mildly fond. The cotton is thinner, and his thoughts are easier to hold on to. He's awake enough, even, to go to the couch without prompting and have the forethought to adjust the pillows, grab the blankets. He hears Dakota on the phone behind him, already ringing up the pizza place, so he takes it upon himself to pre-choose a few movie selections for William. He doesn't have to. It's probably a little rude. He wants to pick at least a little, like he has to prove that he can. But also. He doesn't want to watch the Bee Movie right now.

It's nice, though, when William comes in and takes a pick from Vyncent's selections. It's nice when they're all bundled onto the couch, Dakota's head in his lap and William a warm line against his side. Solid weight. It's still a bad day. Still hard to focus on the movie, hard to follow the plot. It's a nice bad day, though, and right now that's enough.

[antariies]

how to build a chair........... director's cut ∠( ᐛ 」∠)__ this is about to be a very long very self-indulgent post where i just talk about my own writing. i also doodled on all the pages i think it makes the whole thing more fun to go thru. welcome to my ted talk

SIKE before i begin. credit where credit is due, this post was the start of it all. it changed my brain chemistry my jaw was dropped i was in awe i was obsessed and before i even finished it i knew that i would eventually have to make something similar for the commander or else i would be cursed to think about it for the rest of my life. and i Was cursed for like two years every day i would just be like........ is today the day i sit down and draft the commander chair fic of my dreams....... maybe tomorrow......

and then i got accepted as a writer for the gw2 zine ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ the chair idea was actually my backup option in case my first idea didn't pan out, and thank god it didn't, bc this one worked so much better. (still working on my initial idea, just turning it into a full fic! it was wayyy too long to be a zine submission.)

this is the chair i used. i downloaded the assembly instructions and tried out a bunch of different free pdf editors until i found one i liked, which ended up being sedja. if anyone's interested in doing something like this, i recommend printing out the pdf and writing directly on it! it was a lot easier for me to just figure out everything on paper first and then digitalize it after :P here's a picture of my physical copy

okay actually getting into it for real this time !!!!!

1. yeah i could've just erased the ikea logo and left a blank space but then i realized i could turn it into an in-universe joke. and then i ran with it.

2. i ripped this straight from the product description on the website. thanks ikea

3. i'm not sure if anyone went and looked it up, but it's a real item code!

hehe :3c

4. if your commander willingly goes to therapy i'm happy for them but TO ME? you'd have to drag the commander kicking and screaming. it's not that they don't know that something is wrong with them, they know, and they know YOU know. you're just never supposed to talk about it. they don't look at their own psych eval results bc that's none of their business.

5. i normally avoid specifying the commander's race when i write them bc i enjoy the challenge, but for the zine i was assigned to write about a norn commander! as a human main i was uhhhh very ill-equipped. but that just meant i had to study up on my norn lore (•̀ᴗ•́)و i spent hours on the wiki, then went around interviewing norn mains for their opinions, which was great fun :D it all helped me narrow the focus of my piece: joining the war on commander objectification on the side of commander objectification (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ and no one self-aggrandizes quite like the norn commander!

and to balance that i knew my narrator had to be patronizing as shitttt. they've clearly been following the commander since the beginning and seem to know a lot of intimate details about their life, despite not thinking very highly of them. wonder who that could be :3c

6. i can't stop making references. so the original part number is actually #122620 in the manual but i've changed it here (and on the previous page!) to #082812, as in 08/28/12, the date gw2 was released! no real reason for it, @dalennaugw suggested it for funsies and i liked it. if you're my pal and i show you a wip and you have a cool idea for it, chances are i Will put that shit in. hi dale if you're reading this

7. another thing about me. i loveeee repetition. here the word "over" is repeated four times to match the picture. honestly a lot of the creative process for this piece was just staring at the pages and figuring out how to tie the pictures to the commander in ways that weren't extremely corny or trite. idk why i enjoy writing like this when i could be frolicking in the beautiful prosaic meadows of a word doc instead but. it's like i see a tiny little restrictive box and i'm like OH BOY can't wait to think inside of that thing!!! i like when the format matters just as much as the content and in some cases informs the content. am i making any sense here. well all you need to know is that i'm a virgo and my favorite book is house of leaves

7. aw fuck just realized i wrote 7 twice. whatever i'm not changing it this is 7 part two now. the theme of my piece is glory, what it means to the norn commander, and how far they're willing to go for it.

8. does norn culture place emphasis on seeking individual glory Yes are norn also very community-oriented Also Yes. i think it's common to see norn kids napping together in a big pile, usually after they've worn themselves out playing games outside. it makes sense practically (apes together warm) and socially (pack bonding good) but that's just my hc. growing up i used to share a bed with my cousins all the time so it's normal to me.

a young, naive not-yet-commander, with no real combat experience, has no point of reference to compare a "blaze of glory" to. but the way everyone talks about it, it must be a good thing. a wonderful thing. a reward fit for a life well-fought and a legend hard-earned. so they imagine it must feel like falling asleep surrounded by the people they love, who love them in turn.

9. .........i was playing a lot of ace attorney when i wrote this page. i wish i was joking 👍🏼

10. ohhh shit the truth come OUT this whole chair thing was all a ploy just so i could write about the departing. again.

will i ever stop thinking about her. reply hazy, try again later.

11. out of all the pages, this one has the most emphasis on text placement, like comparing the enlarged picture of the screw to a sword, the numbers counting the screws, and "up up up" being arranged to mimic a wisp of smoke.

i also wanted to lean into the viking/norse mythology influences with my word choice.

12. more nods to norn culture. i didn't know they referred to the six human gods as "spirits of action" until i was doing the research for this piece :O

and the domain of the lost is called a hall of ghosts....... cause valhalla.....

13.

i'm sorry this so funnyyy. SAYS the guy who literally clawed their way back to life for a rematch.

me when i'm in a sore loser competition and my opponent is the COMMANDER!!!

14. arms as in "limbs" and also arms as in "armaments" :•]

15. haha get it because the picture makes it look like there are two mirrored speech bubbles while the text paints two opposing interpretations of the norn commander. one that's selfless and humble versus one that's selfish and vainglorious.

16. and the best part is IT DOESN'T MATTER which one is true bc at the end of the day no matter what their motivation, balthazar is dead by their hand. ofc i'm of the opinion that the most compelling interpretation of the commander is both, simultaneously. contradictions are good for the soul.

17. i could've name-dropped kas, the only person present that would do something like that, but i felt it was better to leave it ambiguous.

18. low-hanging fruit. the metaphor was so obvious here but i had to do it. for the culture

19. the alternate title for this piece was "THIS COULD BE GLORY". "how to build a chair" was only supposed to be a placeholder title til i figured out a better one, but the innocuousness of it grew on me. also i came up with the other one too late and had already advertised under the chair title lol

20. my first instinct was to end it with something more reassuring, like "what you have built so far is enough" but that would've been an ooc switch-up for a narrator who has been nothing but snide and detached this whole time. gotta stick to my guns

21.

obligatory chair joke as the last line. for realsies though it’s meant to be an earnest appeal to the commander to take a break, to have a seat, but it’s also a challenge. are they willing to lean on their friends? are the bonds they’ve forged strong enough to hold their weight? are they willing to put their faith in someone else’s hands? are they brave enough to try? well. only one way to find out.

also guess what that wasn’t even the real last page of the manual. it's THIS

but no way i was letting this be the image we ended on. IT LOOKS LIKE A DICK AND BALLS!!!

and on that note, THANK YOU if you made it this far!! a very special shout-out to @hawkepockets, my lovely boyfriend and beta reader, without whom this piece would not be nearly as polished. i would bring him pages to look over and he would say Scrap half of those lines you can do better than that. kill your darlings. i would complain and argue for a few minutes then we would revise. rinse and repeat until we had honed this thing to perfection. i can't stress enough the importance of having a second pair of eyes on your work throughout your creative process, even better if it's someone who challenges you. i don't even pay him 🫶🏼

and if there was anything i didn't cover that you still have questions about, please feel free to shoot me an ask! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ thanks for reading! see u later dudes ;P

[wildemaven]

bloom : two | joel miller

-> pairing: joel miller x florist f!reader

-> wc: 4024

-> content warning: lots if fluff and mutual pining, ellie being ellie (terrifying at times), talks of divorce and failed relationships, mention of food, reader is a single mom (adoption) and has zero physical descriptions

-> a/n: excited to share this! everyone is meeting and things are happening. big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being a gem and listening to me stress over this and reading through this and correcting all my mistakes— she’s truly the best!

one / series masterlist / playlist

Sarah keeps asking questions. 

She always has, ever since the day she could form coherent sentences. Always wanting to know more, seeking out more information to feel informed and ready for her next move. 

So it comes as no surprise that she’s asked him the same question about five different times in the span of 24 hours.

“So, where are we going again?” Sarah’s question floats through the cab in between munching on the tart green grapes she brought along to snack on. 

“That flower shop. That one you always comment on when we drive by— Wilder Floral. I got your flowers from them.” Joel glances over to where Sarah is sitting in the passenger seat. 

“Hmm. Oh yes, the place you haven’t been able to stop raving about for the last week. Remind me why we are getting flowers?” Popping another grape into her mouth. 

“For Nana. Why you askin’ so many questions? I already told ya all of this.”

“Just tryin’ to get a better understanding as to why we’re goin’ to buy Nana flowers. Her birthday isn’t for another 6 months, and there’s no occasion that would require flowers that I know of.”

“Why you goin’ so hard in your ole man? Can’t I buy my mom flowers, just because.”

“Never said you couldn’t. Just askin’ that’s all.” Her exposed hands in front of her show no ill intent was intended. 

“Alright, ‘nough interrogating me. We’re here— hey, let’s keep all this talk about me not shuttin’ up about this place here in the truck, ‘kay?” Joel says as he pulls his truck up alongside the curb in front of the floral shop. 

“Sure, Dad.” She says before hopping out onto the sidewalk and closing the door behind her. 

The bell rings as he pushes the door open, allowing Sarah to walk in, following right behind her. The shop hasn’t changed much in a week's time. There’s new arrangements in the case, some similar to ones he looked over last week, some different. There’s buckets of flowers of all shapes and shades lining the ground near the workbench— trimmings scattered across the top must mean they’re being prepped for use in new arrangements. 

Joel continues to scan the space, in hopes to land on a familiar face who has overwhelmed his every thought for the better part of the last week. 

“Look what the cat dragged back in.” A voice pulls his attention to the side of the entrance, a spot he hadn’t looked over yet. 

“Ellie. It’s good to see you too.” Joel gruffs, shoving his hands in his pockets, wanting to feel less exposed to her cynicism. 

“Couldn’t stay away long, could ya?” Ellie snarks, leaning into the broom handle she has in her grip. 

“Um, guess not. This is Sarah, my daughter I was tellin’ ya bout last week.” Joel gestures to where Sarah is standing next to him. 

“Hey, aren’t you the girl that plays guitar at school?” Sarah asks, thinking she knew she had recognized Ellie from somewhere, then placed her as the girl who sits on the brick wall at lunch with her acoustic guitar, singing an array of classic ballads. 

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t think anyone ever really paid attention though.” Ellie seems to have shrunk down a little, a twinge of self consciousness washing over her. 

“I thought you looked familiar! Dad, this is the girl I was telling you about the other week, the girl who was singing The Sun Always Shines on T.V.” Sarah reminds Joel. “My dad has been singing that song to me since I was a baby.”

“No shit?” Ellie looks at Joel briefly, studying him, as if trying to imagine how he’d look and sound. 

“Yeah, you’re really good. I always stop and listen when you play.” 

Joel watches how Ellie absorbs the information, the slight grin that she tries to hide as she looks at the pile of dust and flower clippings she had been sweeping before they had walked in.

“Thanks.” Ellie huffs out, the compliment unexpected since no one at school ever seems to notice her playing, she doesn’t mind, but she’s grateful there’s at least one person enjoying when she does. 

“Small world. Anyway, we were in the neighborhood and wanted to get some flowers and thought we’d stop in to get some for her Nana.” Joel breaks the silence, pulling Sarah in front of him, his hands on her shoulders to keep a barrier between him and Ellie’s sharp words. Sarah gives her a meek smile and wave. 

“Makes sense, seeing as how we’re a flower shop.” A burst of air snaps from the gum Ellie is gnawing at, her sarcasm fully intact and back in action, her brows shooting up at the obvious reasoning for Joel and Sarah’s visit for flowers. 

“Is your mom around by chance?” He asks, peeking in the direction of the doorway that leads to the back room.

His hold on Sarah’s shoulders tightens slightly when she tries to wiggle herself away from his grip, hoping she could free herself from the awkwardness that’s started to simmer. 

“Well, seeing as how she owns the place, what do you think old man?” And she’s back, Ellie’s brutal response has Joel speechless. Sarah ducks her head to hide her snickering at her dad being called an ‘old man.’

“Ellie!” Your voice booms through the shop, catching the tailend of what Ellie had said to Joel. 

Joel turns to see you frozen in place. You look mortified by Ellie’s bluntness, your grip tight around the buckle of florals you have in your arms. 

“What?” Ellie rolls her eyes as she looks over to you. 

“Knock it off! Don’t be rude— especially to the customers.” You say as you make your way to your workbench, your calculated steps indicating the contents of the bucket are heavier than they look. 

“But it’s not just any customer, it’s Mister I’m sliding into third base Joel.” Ellie snarks, looking at Joel with the biggest shit-eating grin he’s ever seen. “Besides, I’m just kidding! Geez— no need to get your undies twisted.”

Sarah pretends to take in the store, avoiding the back and forth taking place around her, biting back the laughter that’s been building in her chest. 

Joel takes this as his cue to leave Sarah with Ellie, deciding she’s far less likely to be hit with a barrage of sarcastic remarks based on how well Ellie took her compliment about her singing and guitar playing. 

“Here let me help you with that.” Joel says as he jogs over towards you, his arms reaching out for the bucket ready to take on the load himself. 

“Oh! You don’t have to do that—“ You start to tell him, but he’s already grabbing the bucket from you, placing it alongside the other ones you already carried out prior to their arrival. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.” The way you’re looking at him has his heart rate ticking up a few beats, feeling fidgety as he tightens his hands into a fist then releases, trying to release the nervous energy that is flowing through him. “How’s the finger doin’? No other  injuries I hope.”

“No other injuries and the finger healed up nicely. Thanks to a wonderful stranger coming to my rescue.” You hold up the finger in question. No bandage. No sign of where the rose thorn had embedded itself into your skin. “It was probably the kiss— you know, that made it better and all.”

Joel reaches out, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist, needing to inspect the injury site for himself. He places your hand in his, his thumb tracking up your exposed palm and the length of your finger, smoothing over the area he had the privilege to be up close and personal with a week ago. He likes the way your skin feels under his touch, silk like and warm, even with how much you work with them. He has to rein in his fiery thoughts, wanting to know how every inch of you would feel. 

“Always does the trick.” His voice teeters on a nice balance of gentle and rough. 

Joel looks up from where he’s still holding you. Your eyes already fixed on him, beaming and bright, giving your smile a run for its money. He’s not quite sure what convinces him to do it for a second time, but finds he doesn’t really care either when he places a kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. He  lets his lips linger for a moment, catching the brief gasp you let out and the way he can feel your pulse quicken as the milliseconds tick on.

“I-I didn’t think I’d see you so soon. A very welcomed surprise to my busy week.” Your voice soothes something within him, seeping into his heart and filling the cracks he struggled to keep from breaking entirely. 

“Sarah and I were in the area and thought we’d stop in again— as promised. Need to get some flowers for Nana— my mom, her grandma.” 

“Well, I appreciate you stopping in. What’s the occasion?” You ask as Joel gently releases your hand, you pull your clippers from your well worn canvas apron, placing them next to your other tools. 

“Uhh, no real reason. Just ‘cause.” But what he really wants to say is ‘Just ‘cause I needed to see you again, and this seemed like the best way to do it.’

He’s not sure what it is, but he felt it the last time he was here too. This blooming effervescent attraction to you. Infatuated by your mere presence in such a short time. He usually runs in the opposite direction when feelings and commitment start to unveil themselves, but something about you has him running straight for the things that scare him the most— wanting to know if you feel it too.

When Joel thinks back on his dating history, post divorce, he can’t remember a time where he actively went out of his way to see someone. It could have been because there hasn’t really been anyone serious since he and Sarah’s mom divorced. There've been a lot of blind dates set up by friends and his brother Tommy, none of them making it to a second date or really establishing themselves as relationships. He’s met a few women that he thought had potential for a future with, one he had even considered proposing to after a year of dating, but it ended when she decided marriage and a kid wasn’t something she saw in her life at that moment. Joel put dating on the back burner, focused on getting his construction company off the ground and Sarah being his main priority as far as he was concerned. 

Then Joel walked into your shop last week, and everything he thought he would never have or deserve was gone. And now he finds himself searching for any reason to walk through that front door of your little flower shop, just so he can see the way your face lights up. 

“That’s so sweet of you! I’m sure she’ll love Just Cause flowers— everyone always does. I have these new arrangements I just put together if you want to give her one of these??” Pointing to the several arrangements in glass vases that you had been working on all morning. “These protea are my favorite to work with. Their petals are kind of velvety and they’re perfect long after the rest of the arrangement has expired, she can dry them and have them forever. They are kind of cool flowers too, they’re adapted to survive wildfires because their stem contains buds that will produce new growth after fires. And they’re one of the oldest living flowers on the planet, so that makes them double cool.” 

Joel studies you as you continue to share random floral facts with him, adjusting and readjusting the arrangement in front of you. Each flower placed with intention, pausing from time to time to take a slight step back, your head tilting to the side as you look over everything as a whole, then back to arranging and rearranging. 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to ramble like that.” You say as you look to where Joel is leaning one hip into your workbench, as he hangs on every word you're saying. 

“No, don't be sorry. I like it.”

There’s an ease that flows nicely between you. Joel wants to pick your brain, find out what makes you happy, the things that make you sad— all the things in between. He wants to talk to you for hours on end, or not talk at all and just listen— to anything and everything you have to say. 

“Like what?” 

“Listenin’ to you talk. I like it— a lot actually. And the little facts too. Shows how much you love what you do to learn special details like that. You could be tellin’ me about how mushrooms could start a zombie apocalypse, and I’d find it interesting— terrifying, but interesting.” Joel hopes you can hear that he genuinely means it.  

“Well, I won’t tell you how that possibility is more likely to happen than you think based on the research that’s been done over the years.” You both laugh at how ridiculous sounding a mushroom zombie apocalypse would be. 

“They seem to be getting along nicely.” Your chin pointing over to where Ellie and Sarah are giggling to themselves at the front part of the shop. 

“Sarah’s a pretty easy goin’ kid. Gets along with pretty much everyone she meets, even Ellie it seems.” Joel looks over his shoulder at the girls. 

You both share bits about each of them. Their differences, similarities and all the fun little quirks they’ve both had since they were babies. 

Joel asks about Ellie’s singing, and you tell him how she taught herself by checking out books at the library to help her master the chords and beginner songs. Joel tells you how he used to play growing up and that he doesn’t play as much as he would like to now, but sometimes Sarah can twist his arm enough to dust off his guitar and strum out a few songs at the end of barbecues or random summer evenings. 

He tells you about Sarah’s latest soccer game, how she’s an all-star player and usually helps carry the team to victory throughout the season. You tell him how Ellie had been on the track team briefly, she was a sprinter, but was kicked off the team for punching a runner from another school because she had elbowed Ellie during the 400m race, causing her to trip and lose. 

An hour passed before you both don’t realize you’ve been caught up talking about your kids. 

*

“She’s like head over heels in love with your dad. She literally jumps when the front door dings, hoping it’s him again. It’s gross.” Ellie tells Sarah, looking over to where you and Joel are, completely wrapped up in a moment together. 

“Hmm. We stopped in to get my Nana flowers.“ Sarah repeats what Joel had told Ellie earlier. 

“Your dad mentioned that when you came in.” 

“Yeah, well she’s been on vacation for a month and won’t be back for another month. So I don’t think we are here just getting my Nana flowers.” Sarah takes a glance over now to see you and Joel laughing. “I think it’s safe to say my dad is just as head over heels for your mom, too.” 

*

“Well, we’ll get outta your hair. Promised Sarah we’d stop on our way home at The Picnic, get some lunch and ice cream.” Hating that he can’t stay, knowing that he can’t hog all your time— but maybe one day.

“Oh I’ve always wanted to go there. I’ve heard so many great things about all their food trucks. Ellie and I will have to check it out sometime. She’s on a Chef Boyardee kick right now, as one would be when they’re a preteen. Would be nice to mix it up for her though.”

If it wasn’t too forward with it only being his second time meeting you, Joel would ask if you and Ellie wanted to join them. He would even chance the gutsiness and ask you out, spend the evening getting to know you better until both your stomachs and hearts were full. Ellie’s words hit him, “she needs to be wined and dined before you even think about kissing her.”

“Nothin’ wrong with some canned ravioli— lived on that shit in college. But yeah, you both would enjoy it. Definitely take her.” He decides gutsiness isn’t winning today, or it’s his fear of being on the receiving end of Ellie’s wrath that has him wanting to do it the right way, just not today. 

“I hope Nana loves these. And feels special getting just ‘cause flowers.” You hand Joel the ceramic container filled with different shades of pinks and greens in varying heights, shapes and textures. 

“I’m sure she’ll love ‘em no doubt. How much do I owe you?” He gives the flowers a look over, not in an analyzing manner, but admiring the way you manage to take these flowers and effortlessly pair them all together and create something special. 

“You’re in luck! I’m running a special today!.” 

“A special?” Joel is frozen in confusion. 

“Yes! Free to customers that go by the name of Joel.” You say sweetly, he catches the way you bite at your bottom lip after you say his name. 

“‘N what are you gonna do when another Joel walks in wantin’ some of your pretty flowers?” 

“Well, there’s limits of course. And it’s only valid for one Joel.” You wink at him, prompting his stomach to flip and knot up. He needs to ask you out!

“No, I can’t let you do that again. Let me pay this time, please.” He insists, setting the arrangement down on the counter he pulls his wallet from his back pocket, flipping through the large bills stashed inside. “How much?” 

“Joel— my shop, my rules. There’s no arguing— just take the flowers.” 

“Hi! I’m Sarah. Thank you so much for the flowers, my dad and I haven’t been able to stop talking about them. I have been bugging my dad to bring me here, it’s so pretty.” Sarah tells you as she stands next to Joel, arms crossed over the counter. 

“You are so welcome. So glad you’re enjoying them.” Even with this brief interaction, you decided Sarah is one of the sweetest teenagers you’ve ever met— Ellie wouldn’t even take offense if you told her such, she would most likely shrug and agree. 

“Hey, Dad. Are you almost ready to go? I’m starting to get hungry.” Sarah asks, turning to look up at him. 

“Right— sorry, babygirl. We got caught up talkin’ and now I’m tryin’ to convince her to let me pay, but she’s insistin’ we just take the flowers.” 

“Sounds like you shouldn’t argue with her. Just say thank you and take the flowers.” Sarah grabs the arrangement and snags Joel’s keys that are dangling from the front pocket of his jeans then starts to head for the door. “I’ll meet you in the truck dad. It was nice meeting you!”

You wave goodbye to her and watch as she stops on her way out to tell Ellie bye, telling her she’ll see her around at school, the bell dings and the door slowly closes as she walks out. She settles herself into Joel’s truck, its engine roaring to life soon after, signaling Joel to say his farewells and head finally head out. 

“I guess I’ll see you around then.” Joel slowly walks backwards, prolonging his departure from you. 

“I’ll see you around Joel. Hopefully sooner than later.” You wave to him then you’re straight back into work mode, moving buckets of flowers to be cleaned and prepped for your next round of arrangements. 

Joel’s hand settles on the door, but releases it and turns back to where Ellie is finishing up her sweeping through the shop, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he interrupts her. 

“If you take a picture it’ll last longer. Although, might be a little weird with you bein’ an old man and all.” Ellie is quick on her feet. Joel hopes that’s the last of her intimidation tactics. 

“Hey, umm— don’t say anything to your mom ‘bout this, but sometime this week why don’t you take her out to eat somewhere. Give her a break from cookin’ and what not.” He holds a double folded $100 bill between his middle and pointer finger, encouraging Ellie to take it from him. 

“This feels like some sort of thing my mom should've warned me about. We’re not a charity case, we don’t need your money.” She continues sweeping, grabbing leaves and a few days worth of dust bunnies that have collected under display tables. 

“It’s not— I don’t think you’re a charity case. I just— I wanted to— umm.” Joel releases a deep sigh. He’s flustered, stumbling over his words trying to figure out what he is wanting to say. 

“You wanted to ask my mom out, but you’re too much of a chickenshit. So you’re conning me into taking her out instead. Thinking that maybe I’ll soften up to you a bit.” 

“Yeah, pretty much all of that.” Joel huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at how easily she was able to read him. 

“I’ll tell ya what— I’ll take her somewhere, but I keep half.” Ellie bargains with him, making sure she still has the upper hand.

“Half?” 

“Kids gotta make a livin’ somehow.”

Joel thinks it over, actually contemplates the pros and cons of being worked over by Ellie. Each positive gained him an in with Ellie, not really a guarantee, but he’s hopeful that maybe she would consider downgrading her verbal assaults a notch or two. The only negative Joel  can come up with is… Ellie keeps the money and he has to come at this from a different angle, one he’s not really sure about yet. 

“Okay, okay. You keep half, but take her somewhere nice-nice.” He holds the bill again out to her, she snatches it quickly and shoves it in her back pocket. 

“Yeah, yeah old man. Under one condition. Next time you come in here acting like you’re buying flowers just so you can see her— you ask her out yourself. None of this middle man BS.” 

“You gotta deal, kid.” He holds his hand out to her, and they shake on it. A truce cementing the fact that he agrees to not being a chickenshit— something he’s not sure he’s ever been called before. “Maybe go easy on the old man part a bit.”

“See ya around ol— Joel.”

“See ya later, Ellie.” 

*

The driver door slams shut as Joel settles into the seat. The cold air already flowing through the cab, Sarah singing along to The Clash with the flowers secure in her lap. Joel fastens his seatbelt and shifts the truck into drive, his thumb drumming along to the beat as he drives away. 

“So, you got a crush on the cute flower lady?” Sarah asks, her infectious smile extending from ear to ear. 

“What? I— what makes you think that?” He looks over to her, his brows slightly raised at her suggesting he likes you— he does, he just didn’t realize it would be two teenagers picking up on it. . 

“For starters, Nana’s been on vacation for a month, and she won’t be back for a while. But also the way you look at her, it’s so obvious.” She plays with the petals of the flowers, waiting for Joel’s response. 

“Anyone ever told ya you’re a smart kid?” He shakes his head and laughs. 

“Yeah, you do all the time Dad. So, are you gonna ask her out?” 

“I’m afraid if I don’t, Ellie’s gonna have a hit-man out for me.” He’s joking, but also not. “Yeah, I’m gonna ask her out.”

[river13245]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request Aaron Hotchner x Male reader who joined the fbi/bau to gather information on what killed his family. Reader knows it wasn't human but he knows no one would believe him feeling alone and that he should have been in their place.

The team know nothing of reader's real drive or his past only that he's x military. They don't even know that the only thing he has is his car that he lives in or lives in hotel rooms out of paranoia.

Maybe on a case it takes a supernatural turn and reader is the only one who is aware of it and know what to do but can't tell anyone cause who would believe him? Maybe reader gets hurt saving Aaron because needs to make sure Aaron get back home to his son

Warnings: Reader being a slight ass, Bad fighting descriptions (first time ill get better within time), Blood, loss of family.

Authors note: this ended up being longer than I originally planned.

-----

It was a quiet day at the Bau, everyone was quiet and doing their own work and there hadn't been an emergence case that had came your guy's way yet. So you were taking the time to really appreciate the quiet for however long it had lasted.

You were all tasked with jobs because even on quiet days you all were busy. Your job was to go through old cases and new ones and so here you were at your desk sorting out case files. Some were old and solved already while others were going to have to be sent to the local police because they were ones they would be able to do.

However there was one file that when you first opened it your heart stopped. As you scanned through it you sat absolutely still and held your breath. As if one single movement would make you break. You wouldn't say that you were an emotional man, when you were younger definitely but things change you. And as you read through this you remember exactly what had changed you all those years ago

-----

You had just gotten back to the state after being away at the army for almost two years and was looking forward to seeing your family. As you sat in the car you thought about what you would see when you got to your home. The same home that you have lived in your whole life.

Your mother would be in the kitchen possibly listening to music as she cleaned up. Your father would be in the living room playing with your younger siblings so they would be out of your mothers way while she cleaned up.

However what you hadn't expected was to open the door to see your family laying in puddles of their own blood. Your mother was laying face down in the kitchen while your dad was right beside her laying on his back. As you looked around you seen your younger siblings in the living room dead as well.

Tears were in your eyes as you knelt down onto the ground. You were in knelt down as you let yourself cry for many minutes until you started to feel completely ill. Rushing to the bathroom you leaned over the toilet. As you flushed you made sure to breathe and try to calm yourself even just a little bit.

When you made your way down to the living room you noticed how the blood was smeared as if your father had tried to get to your mother to protect her from whatever was happening. It broke your heart. Their faces once full of life and laughter was not pale and scarred.

-----

After that day you had made it your life's purpose to find whoever had killed your family and kill that SOB. You had called the cops and they took care of everything and you went back to the military for a few more years.

The army was good for you, you focused on making sure you were strong and skilled in many different ways. Your family was on your mind every step of the way. Even when you joined the BAU, you joined not only to protect other people from harm but also in hopes to cross paths with the same thing that had killed your family. And here it was. In your hands. The scene of the crime was at your childhood home and you knew that the thing would come back. It did when it killed your parents.

Getting up from your desk in a rush caused the team to glance over at you. You paid them no mind as you walked straight to Aarons office. Now normally you would have knocked but instead this time you walked straight in, causing him to look up at you from his own paperwork.

Usually he would say something about someone just barging in like that but as he looked at you his eyes softened as he noticed just how stressed you looked.

He watched as you walked in front of his desk and placed down the case file so he could see it. "this is a case that needs our immediate attention" your voice was authoritive as you spoke to your boss.

Grabbing the casefile he looked at it and nodded "alright ill call everyone down to the briefing room" You nod in response before walking down to the briefing room.

------

After being briefed on the case Penelope had gotten straight to work. Everyone could tell that you had not been your normal self. They may not know much about you besides what's on your file but they have known you long enough to know when you were on edge. No one said anything since they were slightly scared or intimidated by you in some way.

When Penelope said that she has got something you all talk about it and as soon as Hotch says that you guys are taking the cars you are the first to walk out. He gives a quick look to the team before walking after you. You sit into the passenger seat knowing he was following you and when he sits in the drivers side he places his hand on your arm lightly. "you need to tell me what's wrong. Why are you acting like this over a case?"

His voice was authoritive but you knew that he cared about you. and in knowing that, that's what terrified you. "I'm fine boss can we go?" Aaron visibly flinched back at you calling him boss instead of his name.

You guys weren't dating or anything but there had been something there. Something that neither of you seemed to be able to take the leap to pursue.

Aaron starts the car and follows the others to your childhood home. The home that you hadn't been able to step foot on or even drive past because it haunted you.

The car ride was silent, you knew you had been an ass. You hadn't meant to be but you were far to in your own head to apologize right now. You would have to do that at a later time because right now you could barely speak.

When you finally arrive Aaron glances over at you before getting out. You sit for just a few moments before getting out and putting on your mask. It was a figurative mask, just means you pretend to be alright. As you step out Aaron is already handing you your gun and some other things you need. He helps you button up your vest so its secure and tight.

He does this all in silence only squeezing your shoulders before looking over you quickly. Then he turns to the team "alright everyone ready?"

Derek is texting on his phone probably texting Penelope when he says "yeah just one second." At his words something breaks inside of you and you snap at him. "Derek just put the damn phone down. Flirting with your "baby girl" can wait until this is finished."

He pauses and puts his phone away "what the hell is wrong with you y/n you have been on edge ever since you seen this case" he didn't sound super pissed but you shook your head. "Nothing I'm just wanting to get this over with. Even if I have to do it myself."

You turn and begin to walk to the house after muttering a "fucks sake." Walking to the back door you hear Aaron right behind you. He had probably apologized for you to the team before following you but you didn't turn to spare him any glance.

Getting to the door you hear Derek kick down the door and the others are guarding every entrance and exits they can find so no one can escape. You instinctively place your hand on Aarons for just a moment before walking in.

Aaron is right beside you as you walk through the house. You can smell blood, blood that's probably been here for days but what you can hear is the worst of it. Screaming as if the person had been wanting to keep one alive. That wasn't a thing they had done before.

You had special bullets in your gun that would kill anything. No matter what it was so as you made your way to the sound you see them before they see you. Your gun is in the air instantly aiming it at them. But when they turn around all they do is smirk.

"well hello y/n" at the sound of your name coming from the mans lips you stiffen up and Aaron looks at you and then back at the unsub. "how the hell do you know my name?" your voice didn't waver even as the man in front of you chuckled. "oh come on, you didn't think I wouldn't know the man whose family I had killed would you"

You glare at him while he walks closer to you. Aaron walks closer to you to protect you but you shake your head. He looks at you and it seems as if you are having a silent argument in your head and he eventually backs away from you.

The man in front of you looks down at you since he's taller than you are. "you were the one that got away. I cant say that I've ever missed anyone before." Rolling your eyes you stare up at him "well I'm glad I could leave an impression. After all i would hope you remembered me since you're the one that killed my family"

The team visibly straightens up and now its all clicking as to just why you were acting the way you were today. "ouu sorry about that. I actually only was there for your mother but your father had to get in the way. Tried to be the hero, save your mom" He paused smirking "and well i couldnt just let the kids witness that and then have to live with the trauma. So I did them a favor"

Before you could stop yourself your fist hit his jaw. Your gun in the holster, not the smartest decision you had ever made but you weren't thinking rationally when you did it and everyone else knew.

However it was part of your plan because now he was distracted so the team can get the hostage they were holding. Now they were safe and out of the building. Looking over you see JJ helping the young woman out trying to calm her.

As the two of you begin to fight you had been winning until he said something to distract you and then before you knew it he was leaning on top of you "since I've already killed your family I thought id already had taken everything that made you happy. But I've realized someone has become to mean everything to you" He looks at Aaron "we cant have that can we?"

Aaron shoots the man but it doesn't do much to him as he flicks his hand and Aaron is shot back to the wall and he's slowly losing breath. "NO!" You sit up and grab the mans foot making him fall but not before the man uses magic on you and a cut appears along your arm and leg. The cuts are very deep but you manage with shaky hands to grab your gun and you shoot the man and he finally ends up bleeding out.

Your losing consciousness slowly but surely. Aaron rushes over to you while the team is coming over to the man and doing their jobs knowing that Aaron needed time with you.

Looking up at Aaron you cough and place your hand that was on your arm now on his shirt that just happened to be white. "Aaron I'm sorry" He shakes his head and places his hand on your chest while Spencer comes over and is wrapping up your leg while the team calls an ambulance. "don't you dare apologize. You can apologize later."

He places his hand on the back of your head as you close your eyes. "don't you dare close your eyes" you laugh at how even now he was ordering you around, and you wince at how much everything hurts. "I'm just resting my eyes, don't use that tone with me Hotch"

You were trying to act as if everything was fine but as Hotch lifted you up and began to walk you to the ambulance is when you had passed out.

The last thing you remembered was Hotch ordering them to let him ride with you and him placing something soft under head.

------

When you finally woke up you kept your eyes closed but the first thing you noticed was someone running their hand through your hair gently saying "come on baby. wake up please."

The Baby really caught you off guard but a smile makes its way to your face as you open your eyes you see Aaron in front of you. "Aaron?" He looks at you and you're surprised he could even hear you from how hoarse your voice was. "shh don't talk here. Here is some water" he holds it to your lips and you sip on it.

"thank you" you look up at him and grab onto his hand. "Did I hear you right or was I still unconscious did you call me baby?" he squeeze's your hand and nods. "yeah I did. Hope that's okay"

You smile and nod instantly, its probably the most you've smiled and he takes a moment to really appreciate just how amazing you look when you smile. "you are coming home today. They said that when you woke up they would take care of you and you would be free to go"

You nod and look around "can you get the team in here please?" he nods and as he goes and gets them the doctors get you all situated and you sit up with a wince.

Eventually the team walks in and they all begin to fret over you and you roll your eyes and tell them that your fine. However you look over to Derek who is keeping his distance and you feel bad. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. It wasn't your fault" He nods "I know and I should have taken it more seriously"

Nodding Emily speaks "why did you do that? Why did you go out of your way to save Aaron when you knew you would get hurt in the process." You didn't have to think about the answer "because he has a son to get home to. What do I have to go home to? I live in my car or in hotels when i need a night in a bed and to freshen up. No one is depending on me outside of this job"

Aaron speaks from where he was resting against the wall without you noticing. "oh how wrong you are. Do you not know that all of us, including me need you. I need you outside of work, during work. You are the one that I look forward to seeing everyday. Also you aren't going home to your car. You're coming home with me so I can care for you"

Rolling your eyes you shake your head "you don't have to do that Hotch" he shakes his head before giving you a look that leaves no room for argument "Its final...and I thought I had upgraded from Hotch to babe, darling or something" You laugh in response and pull him into a kiss causing the others to be surprised but they smile.

"okay then my love, take me home"

[chubbletea]

I'm bored. mcsm hcs time

jesse (any prns, bday dec 31st)

genderfluid

reuben helped them sleep, so after they lost him, they had trouble sleeping for years upon years

their music taste is anything and everything. they will go to listening from k-pop to death metal and be unfazed

jesse was fairly little when they met reuben (thinking abt 4-ish??)

they have brightly colored highlights in their hair, and it's style is short and fluffy/messy-looking

only child

doesn't want to get gender surgeries or take hormones or anything

played trumpet in middle school marching band. I'm so sorry for doing them dirty like this but it's the vibes

probably survives off of caffeine. however, this habit got better after they got radar to help

they couldn’t sleep for at least a week after reuben's death, but then they started sleeping with a plushy (probably of a pig), which slowly helped them get back into a semi-regular sleep schedule

they have a nametag necklace with reuben's name engraved on it

petra (she/her, bday feb 20th)

girl kisser. likes kissing women on the lips.

deathly terrified of getting sick. if she got lethally sick before the witherstorm event, she would be like "I'M FINE IT'S NOTHING" but after the witherstorm event if she gets a small cold she freaks tf out

she's a system bc I'm a system and I said so. she has abt five members and has rare splits

her childhood was all over the place

she likes heavier music like green day, blink-182, rob zombie, babymetal, etc.

bassist

did several martial arts and sports as a kid bc she couldn't find one she liked

Idk if I can see her doing marching band but if she did she would be an alto sax player, but like angry section leader alto sax player

lukas is her cousin. she's the only one who gets to call him luke bc that's what he originally went by before changing it to lukas

she's abt three years older than lukas, and she was very present in his childhood. they basically did everything together bc their parents were either fuckasses or straight up not there (L + ratio tbh)

lukas (he/him, bday july 24th)

trans guy. just the vibes

he's a writer. he's into WEIRD GROSS GRAPHIC SHIT. he does not faint when he sees blood or whatever.

while writing his memoir(?) abt the witherstorm journey, he writes so many graphic descriptions abt stuff like petra's illness, inside of the witherstorm, the endermen and other mobs, etc. and asks jesse to read it for criticism and such and then they end up scarred and are like "HUH?? WHO HURT YOU????"

he likes holding his cat like a baby

he's the certified "music nerd" of the group. he thinks his taste is the best

speaking of, he likes stuff like will wood, tally hall/miracle musical, lemon demon, etc. and if anyone ever asks for music recommendations he just fucking appears without warning and talks abt music for three hours

whenever lukas is handed the aux he's like "YOU GUYS WANNA HEAR A BANGER?" and plays 2/3 of a song and talks abt it for another half of it and just does it over again with several songs in a row

played clarinet in middle school-high school band and never wanted to switch bc he was very attached to his instrument

he was also probably a theatre kid. and DEFINITELY a creative writing kid. maybe an art kid too

eventually he started playing electric guitar after school

he used to be *extremely* asocial and introverted, only willingly interacting with his cousin, petra, until he met the ocelots and slowly opened up in his late middle school/early high school years thanks to them

his parents weren't very present in his childhood

throughout most of his childhood he experienced lots of autism related speech loss and was nearly completely nonverbal, but after he started becoming friends with the ocelots, he slowly gained the ability to speak. he still experiences the occasional speech loss to this day, but he's much better than he was a while back

he's the youngest member of the order

one year on t

took a few classes with olivia at one point, but they never rlly talked. he might've glanced at her one or two times tho

picked up traditional art as an extra hobby, still mostly focuses on writing

he has severe gender dysphoria and has had top surgery, but refuses to get bottom surgery, simply bc he doesn't want to.cdespite this, he stills makes jokes abt having a cock

axel (they/he, bday may 7th)

met jesse before olivia met jesse

his music taste consists of only meme songs. the first time he was handed the aux, he played two trucks. the second time he was handed the aux, he rickrolled everybody. he is now banned from the aux.

he's the oldest member of the order

has no idea how sympathy works (real!)

olivia (she/they, bday apr 12th)

former gifted kid vibes. definitely went to a private school at some point

has always looked up to ellegaard since she was little

took a few classes with lukas at one point, but they never rlly talked. olivia prolly thought abt trying to talk to him at one point tho

major art kid vibes

3-4+ years on e, got bottom surgery a little more than a year ago

she drew jesse a picture of reuben shortly after his death to try and cheer them up

radar (he/they, bday oct 16th)

bisexual and questioning if he's non-binary

it's said that he is both jesse's assistant and and intern, so that could mean he's in high school. I debated for a little bit whether he would be a junior or senior but I decided that he would be one of the older juniors (around 17 years old)

sometimes he has to miss/be late to help jesse with work or whatever bc he has schoolwork to do

definitely a hardcore theatre kid.

it's also sorta implied that radar has some sort of crush on jesse so I like to imagine that jesse is like his celebrity crush or whatever. ofc that's never gonna go through as an actual relationship or whatever

radar does mention at one point that he loves seafood so I like to imagine he encourages jesse to try seafood with him and stuff. he also definitely isn't scared to try and actually likes some of the "weird" stuff (ex. tako)

he rlly trusts jesse and likes talking to him bc he doesn't rlly have a good outlet. I like to think jesse just listens/lets him vent

he tries to go help jesse as much as he possibly can bc his home life isn't particularly great (by that I mean it's terrible)

he's the type to go "SO FUNNY STORY-" and then traumadump like it's nothing (srsly get him some therapy)

definitely has a squishmallow collection AND keeps all the tags

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 13

As the Wind

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 3.6k

Warnings and tags: suspense, some action, temporary hearing loss, Star Wars swearing

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The team undertakes an extraction mission, and Cerra sees a familiar face.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Start here | Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list | Read on AO3

Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves in a field

Behaving as the wind behaves

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Cerra’s contact network finally came through with a ship that satisfied all of their requirements for the Balmorra mission: an old mining vessel with an auxiliary leech. It didn’t have the speed or firepower they needed, but retrofitting it with upgraded thrusters and weapons would be fairly straightforward. 

In a stroke of pure, unadulterated bad luck, the ship’s availability coincided with Cerra’s mission to Raada, which meant that Gregor and Rex were unable to provide backup on the operation. Gregor had been distant since their ill-fated excursion to the market, apparently unreconciled to Cerra’s decision to go ahead with the mission. Fireball and Echo accompanied her instead. 

En route to Imperial military HQ, she changed into the scratchy wool officer’s uniform she’d “requisitioned.” Rex had taken a single look at it and declared that he didn’t want to know how she got it, which was probably for the best. The captain was willing to do whatever it took to get the job done, but he still balked at some of Cerra’s shadier dealings.

“Eyes front, trooper,” Echo barked.

Cerra turned in time to see Fireball snap to attention and stare fixedly out the front viewport with a guilty expression. She finished dressing quickly and went to stand behind Fireball’s seat.

“You need to get out more, buddy,” she said, punching his armored shoulder lightly. 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” he replied stiffly.

She laughed, and he relaxed as his expression turned sheepish. “Been a while, has it, soldier?”

Fireball mumbled something about entire life under his breath, but Cerra opted not to torment him any further. The plan was for Echo to drop her off far enough from HQ that she wouldn’t be spotted leaving the ship. She would walk the rest of the way to the base and pass through security with a forged chain code that Echo had provided. Once inside, she would make her way to the Raada transport. Echo had also created a set of fake orders in case anyone questioned her presence.

She had spent the past week practicing a supercilious glare. Fireball had coached her on it, reminding her to treat the clones as subhuman if she wanted to escape detection. She hated it as much as she hated the kriffing itchy wool uniform.

“Tell me one more time what his armor looks like?” Cerra asked Fireball.

“You can’t miss it,” he grinned. “I painted it myself.”

He launched into a detailed description of Nemec’s exuberant armor paint job, complete with the story about how he convinced Nemec to let him do it in the first place.

“I’m surprised your armor isn’t flashier,” she said.

Fireball shrugged. “It was better camouflage on Kashyyyk. And then… I didn’t want to paint over it. Not when it reminded me of the commander.”

Cerra squeezed his shoulder in consolation, and they lapsed into silence. As they approached the drop zone, she felt a swirl of nervous anticipation in her stomach.

“Comms will be jammed as soon as you pass through security, so you won’t be able to call for help if anything goes wrong,” Echo said. “We’ll be monitoring chatter, but we can’t hear everything.”

“Let’s hope nothing goes wrong, then,” Cerra said. “I guess I’ll see you boys on Raada in three standard rotations. Wish me luck.”

Echo grunted, and Fireball just stared at her with wide eyes. She snapped to attention and gave them a textbook salute.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Like you never left,” Echo said.

Cerra pulled a face, then turned and headed for the back hatch of the ship. Before she could reach it, a hand closed around her elbow, and Fireball spun her around into a crushing hug.

“Thanks, Cerra,” he whispered. 

She hugged him back and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to get your brother back, Fireball. I promise you.”

He gave her one last tight squeeze, then lowered the ramp. She walked out of the ship and immediately ducked down an alleyway, following it to the opposite side of the block, and then turned and walked briskly toward HQ. She passed the First Battle Memorial and joined the security queue at the main entrance. 

Her heart began to pound as the queue slowly advanced. She kept her face carefully neutral and focused on controlling her breathing. By the time she reached the front of the queue, her hands were sweating inside her gloves, but they were steady enough as she presented her counterfeit chain code for inspection.

The TK trooper at the gate barely glanced at the code before waving her through. She walked calmly through the entrance, trying not to think that she was about to lose all contact with her squad. She fought the urge to gawk at the changes to the base since she had last been there. At that point, it had still been the Republic Center for Military Operations. Still, not so much had changed that she couldn’t find her way around, and she headed straight for the airfield.

“Lieutenant Kilian?” an unmistakably clone voice asked.

Cerra nearly turned, but she caught herself just in time and kept walking, not acknowledging the question. Her mouth went dry, and her pulse hammered in her ears. Just keep walking, just keep walking.

A hand grabbed her by the elbow, exactly where Fireball had caught her only moments before. She spun around to face her assailant, and her stomach dropped with dread as she recognized his 501st-blue painted armor.

“Cerra Kilian?” the clone repeated.

Nax, she realized. She would recognize that hairstyle anywhere.

“You’re mistaken, trooper,” she said, meeting his eyes and blatantly lying. “I’m Lieutenant Marchon.”

Nax froze, his hand still gripping her elbow. He knows. I’m going to die. She could feel the tide of panic rising in her chest, and she fought it down, remembering at the last moment to assume that haughty expression that Fireball had taught her.

“My mistake,” Nax said, releasing her arm. “Sorry, lieutenant. I thought you were someone else.”

Cerra straightened her uniform and tried to think of a response. What would a scughole Imp say right now? Something condescending and awful. Think!

“You can go about your business, lieutenant,” Nax said. “If you see Lieutenant Kilian, tell her I said hello.”

“Quite,” Cerra stammered. “Thank you, trooper.”

He nodded shortly, then turned on his heel and left. Cerra continued her rapid journey to the airfield, lightheaded with relief. She didn’t know why Nax hadn’t reported her, but she wasn’t going to stick around and find out. She hurried down the row of transports until she located the one she needed, keenly aware that at any moment she could be apprehended, and she would have no way of contacting Echo to let him know. If it happened, she would likely be dead before they ever discovered she’d been caught.

She showed her forged orders to the trooper guarding the transport, and he waved her through. Inside, she found a mixed force of clones and TK troopers. She appeared to be the only officer on board, which only made her stand out more. She kept waiting for the soldiers to turn their weapons on her, but it never happened. The last few troopers boarded, the ramp closed, and the transport launched. 

Nax never called it in.

The troopers were eerily silent as the transport jumped into hyperspace with a shudder. There was no banter, no laughter, no speculation about their assignment. Just soundless, blank helmets, devoid of color or individuality. The clone troopers sat separately from the TK troopers, as though an invisible ray shield prevented them from commingling. It was going to be a long three days.

The Imperial base on Raada bustled with activity. More transports arrived each day, and though the buildings were prefabricated and lowered into place from a Star Destroyer, a huge amount of work still needed to be done to get the base fully supplied. Cerra had been in dozens of bases with this exact layout, so at least she didn’t have to worry about getting lost.

In fact, the commotion around the base could work to her advantage, as Nemec’s absence would be less noticeable amid the throngs of new arrivals. All she had to do now was locate him, convince him that she wasn’t an Imperial spy, and get him out. The first step shouldn’t be too difficult; Nemec’s flamboyant armor paint job would definitely stand out in the crowd of shiny TK troopers.

She headed for the mess hall, figuring it was as good a place to start as any. He wasn’t there, so next she checked the barracks, only to come up empty again. She fabricated an excuse to inspect the walker bay, and didn’t find him—though that had been a long shot. It occurred to her that she could be missing him by mere moments, but she couldn’t very well start asking random troopers if they’d spotted a clone in stunning green armor wandering around the base.

As the putative supply officer, she’d been allocated a small office, so she holed up inside it while she planned her next move. It would make the most sense to stake out either the barracks or the mess; at some point, Nemec would need to go to both of them. Her stomach rumbled, making the decision for her, and she headed to the mess hall.

There were a few officers inside, as well as several troopers. Once again, she noted that the clones sat apart from the TKs. She picked up a tray and moved through the line, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia as she ladled the unidentifiable beige sludge onto her tray. She found a seat with a clear view of the mess hall entrance. She sat alone, knowing that she would draw attention if she were the only natborn to sit with the clones.

As she ate, Cerra observed the strange dynamics of the room. Obviously, the clones had their own territory. The TK troopers had claimed a sizable chunk of the room as well. But what surprised her was that none of the officers sat with the TK troopers. They either clustered in small cliques or sat on their own as she did. It seemed that the Imperial hierarchy was much more rigidly enforced than it had been under the Republic.

She ate as slowly as possible, prolonging her surveillance of the mess, but at last, she could delay no longer. She dropped her tray at the bussing station and headed back to the hangar. If it took her much longer to locate Nemec, she would need to get her office set up to maintain her cover. 

She rounded a corner and nearly collided with a group of troopers. As she stumbled backward, one of them reached out to steady her.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there,” he said in a familiar voice.

Clones, she realized as she took in their armor. This group all had painted armor instead of the shiny white plastoid she’d mostly seen so far. She scanned the group for one in green, but didn’t see the unmistakable design Fireball had described to her.

“It was my fault,” she said. “I wonder if you could help me find someone, though?”

“Depends on who you’re looking for,” the trooper said. 

“I’m trying to get my office set up, and I was told to ask for help from a clone trooper in green armor with a yellow—”

“That’d be Nemec,” a second trooper offered. “I think I saw him headed out for a patrol, but I can comm him for you.”

“Unless you’d prefer my help,” a third trooper said in a flirtatious tone as he shouldered his way to the front of the group. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Cerra bit back a laugh. “I’m flattered, but I think it would be best if I just go with the trooper assigned to me. I don’t want to risk scugging off the base commander the day I arrive.”

“Too bad,” the trooper replied. “If you change your mind—oof!”

The first trooper elbowed him in the ribs, hard. “She’s not interested, Crusher. Take a hint.”

“Nemec is on his way, sir,” the second clone said. “Where would you like him to meet you?”

“The hangar, please,” Cerra said, knowing that she was failing miserably at impersonating the cold, arrogant Imperials that Fireball had described.

“Do you need an escort?”

“I can find my way, but thank you for the offer, and for your help,” Cerra said, excusing herself.

She continued toward the hangar, keenly aware of the clones’ eyes following her. She forced herself to maintain a steady pace, though she wanted to break into a run. Finally, she turned another corner and was out of their view. She hurried the rest of the way to the hangar and arrived just as Nemec pulled in on a BARC speeder. Troopers milled about, unloading and stacking crates from the transport. She spotted a small bank of V-wings and hoped they wouldn’t be an issue during the extraction.

“Are you the supply officer?” Nemec asked as he dismounted.

“Yes, and you must be Nemec,” she said.

He nodded shortly. “Show me what you need.”

He did not sound thrilled to meet her, and she couldn’t blame him. He was an elite warrior, reduced to running menial errands for pampered officers. She showed him the crates with “her” gear, then led him to the office she’d been assigned. Once inside, she closed and locked the door.

Nemec whipped around, startled. Cerra raised her hands to show she meant him no harm.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he demanded, looming over her.

“Fireball sent me,” she said quietly.

Nemec went unnaturally still. “Who’s Fireball?” he asked cautiously.

“He said to tell you that the netcasters weren’t the worst thing about Kashyyyk.”

“It was the mud,” Nemec replied. “Who are you?”

“My name is Cerra Kilian,” she said. “I’m here to get you out.”

“Kilian?” Nemec asked, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t suppose you know—”

“He’s my uncle,” Cerra said. “When can you be ready to leave?”

“Now,” Nemec said immediately. “What’s the plan?”

“We need to get away from the base and meet up with Fireball and the rest of my squad at these coordinates,” Cerra said, displaying the rendezvous point on a small holoprojector. “Do you think you can get a BARC speeder without being noticed? It took longer to find you than I’d hoped, and we’re on a tight timeline. We’ll stand a better chance of making the rendezvous if we don’t have to go on foot.”

“I can get the bike, but it’ll be trickier to get away from the base without being spotted. They’ll notice a passenger. Unless you can come up with a convincing explanation, they’ll shoot us down.”

Cerra pondered the conundrum. “What is the Empire even doing on Raada?”

“Growing some kind of engineered plants for rations,” Nemec said. 

“I can work with that,” she said. “I’ll say that as supply officer, I have been ordered to supplement the base’s rations with the local produce, and I’m conducting an inspection.”

“Which you’ve ordered me to assist,” Nemec said. “It could work. I hope you’re good at banthashitting.”

“I don’t have to banthashit; I was a supply officer for thirteen years,” Cerra said. “I can throw so much technical jargon at them that they won’t know if I’m even speaking Basic.”

“If you say so,” Nemec said doubtfully.

“I do,” Cerra said. “And one more thing: as far as the Empire knows, I’m Lieutenant Marchon. Let’s get going.”

They returned quickly to the hangar, and Nemec mounted the speeder as Cerra climbed into the sidecar. As he had predicted, the guards at the main entrance of the base ordered them to halt.

“Where are you taking this officer?” a TK trooper demanded.

“I’ve been ordered to take Lieutenant Marchon to the settlement to inspect the farms,” Nemec said.

“Under whose authority?” the trooper asked.

“Admiral Coburn,” Cerra replied in the most condescending Coruscanti drawl she could summon. “When he assigned me to Raada, he ordered me to supplement the base’s rations with the produce we grow locally. Would you care to ask him yourself?”

“No, ma’am. Proceed.” He waved them through the gate.

“Not bad,” Nemec said once they were safely out of earshot.

“It wouldn’t have worked on a clone,” Cerra said. “Lucky break.”

Nemec steered them toward the settlement until they were out of view of the base, then brought the bike to a halt.

“The speeder has a tracking beacon,” Nemec said. “We’ll need to take it off, or they’ll be able to follow us to the rendezvous.” 

Cerra checked her chronometer. It was going to be close, but they would make it in time, assuming nothing went wrong. She hopped out of the sidecar and searched for the transmitter.

“Kriff, it’s hardwired in with a kill switch,” she said. “If I take it off, the bike won’t start.”

“What are we going to do, then?” he asked.

“Head toward the settlement. We’ll ditch the bike there and go the rest of the way on foot.”

“Won’t that put the farmers at risk once the Empire discovers we’re missing?” Nemec asked.

“Fine,” Cerra sighed. “We’ll get closer to the village, then I’ll sabotage the bike. It’ll look like an accident. Hopefully, the explosion will be big enough to explain the lack of bodies.”

“Oh, I can help with that,” Nemec chuckled, handing her a thermal detonator.

“That’ll do it,” she said.

They remounted the bike and sped toward the settlement. When they were about three klicks away, they stopped again, and Cerra quickly yanked a few wires. She set the detonator on a timer and started the bike.

“Start running,” she said, jamming the accelerator.

The bike zoomed away, shuddering violently. She sprinted after Nemec, and within seconds, the speeder engine sparked violently and exploded. The detonator went off immediately after, and the shock wave knocked her to the ground. Her ears rang as she struggled to get up. Nemec doubled back and yanked her to her feet. He shouted something, but she couldn’t make it out over the high-pitched shriek in her head. Without waiting for a response, he took off running, dragging her behind him as she stumbled.

“—have to move!” 

His voice was muffled, and she shook her head to try to clear it. It didn’t work, but she jogged after him regardless. Nausea rose in her belly, but she tamped it down. Her breath was harsh, and her lungs ached. Run, Cerra. One foot in front of the other. Keep going.

They ran until they reached an outcropping of rocks that provided some cover, and Nemec finally slowed.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded, breathing hard. At least she could hear again.

“Good,” he said. “We still have a long way to go, so we need to keep walking.”

“I am walking,” she said irritably. 

“Walk faster,” Nemec said.

As much as she wanted to snap back at him, he had a point, so she picked up the pace. “We can still make it,” she said. “The bike bought us some time.”

They walked for hours, carefully rationing the small amount of water in Nemec’s canteen. Cerra stripped off the stifling wool uniform jacket and tied it around her waist. Her undershirt was soaked with sweat from the hot sun, and soon she was covered in a fine film of dust that clung to her damp skin. Silently, she cursed her karking uncomfortable boots. They were made for sitting at a desk, not trekking across rocky terrain.

She checked her chronometer. We can still make it.

“Will they scramble the V-wings if a ship enters the atmosphere?” she asked.

Nemec shook his head. “I don’t think their surveillance is that advanced. That’s why they picked this system; nobody comes here.”

“Security was pretty tight at the base,” Cerra observed.

“We’ve had a little trouble with the locals. Some of them objected to the Empire ordering them to torch their own crops and grow ration plants instead. Can’t imagine why,” Nemec said drily.

His voice sounded deeper than Fireball’s, more like Rex, and Cerra wondered how old he was.

“Were you and Fireball batchmates?” she asked curiously.

He turned his head to study her before he answered. He still hadn’t removed his helmet.

“No,” he said. “We met when I was serving under your uncle. Fireball was just a shiny. Didn’t even have a name yet. His whole batch got wiped out by a vulture droid in his first battle. Poor kids never saw it coming. Fireball ran toward the explosion to try to save them, but they were already gone.”

“Is that how he got his name?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “How’d you get mixed up in all this?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” she said.

“You said you’d been a supply officer for thirteen years,” he pressed.

“Corellian military defense force,” she said. “Then GAR.”

“Not Imperial army?”

“Not so far,” she said.

“I knew you were too nice to be one of them,” Nemec said.

“Fireball will be disappointed to hear that. He spent the last week coaching me on how to be a scughole to clones.”

“Your mistake was treating us like humans,” Nemec said. “Wouldn’t want anyone to see you doing that.”

“I guess I’m just not cut out to be an Imperial officer,” Cerra said. “There goes Plan Besh.”

“I’d say don’t quit your day job, but I don’t know what that is,” he said.

“Is treason a day job?” she asked. “It doesn’t pay much, but I get a lot of satisfaction out of it.”

Nemec laughed, the sound harsh and distorted by his helmet. “You’re not so bad, Lieutenant Traitor.”

---

Next chapter

[nrdmssgs]

Hozyain

Masterlist

Angst

Characters: Yasha (a young journalist, an OC for this story), Olga Zhar Samoilova (OC from a Heart and Matters), Makarov (no romantic interactions between anyone).

TWs: Descriptions of acts of violence, descriptions of depressive episodes, this is overall really sad.

AN: I had this work in my backlogs since forever. There is no romance there, no good comforting things. This is a little AU, where my girl Zhar is living her worst life, having lost Nikolai. I can't, and I won't write anything comforting for Makarov, as well as I have no intention to fetishize 'bad russian boy'. But I have something to tell about him and about the circumstances that keep producing such people. Since this work is long - Ill keep translations from Russian right after the phrases (like that)

Thanks: @siilvan for being eternally patient and supportive.

Also this is a songfic

"Tell them, I got all the documents, they have asked for!"

"Ona sobrala vse dokumenty..." (She has all the documents...)

"And make sure, they don't forget, this is the fucking sixth time, they change the rules at the very last moment!"

"...ona rasstroena. Budet zhalovatsya nachalstvu..." (...she is not happy with the situation. She might file a complaint with prison superiors...)

Yashas` angry voice contrasts so much with a lifeless mutter of her guide and translator - it sounds almost comical. But these two women are bound by one goal: to get Yasha to the deepest circle of hell. Or maybe it's just Yasha, who believes in it. Because Olga, her guide, remains calm, seemingly not interested in anything outside her mind, dead inside. Olga knows the ways, knows the right words, but it all breaks against the goddamned Kafkaesque wall.

"Olga Borisovna, da ona mozhet hot` v OON zhalovat`sya! Poka hozyain eiye ne propustit - ona ne prohodit!" (Olga Borisovna, she might as well complain to the UN! As long as the mater doesn't approve, she is not coming in!) These words are thrown at Olgas still, unmoving face, but Yasha knows, they are meant for her.

She spent six years learning journalism, then four years learning Russian culture and language. Still, her mentor told her, 'You want to tell that story - you better get ready to become a part of it'. Becoming affiliated with any part of the conflict was the very opposite of what a journalist must do. But she was willing to take the risk, to bury her career long before it actually started. So she learned this twisted language, reformed her mind to match these sick rituals, even got a new name - the name, they would understand and respond to. All for the purpose of speaking to the filthiest, sickest human being out there. All for his captors to turn her away for six times already.

"...poka hozyain ne propustit" or "until the master lets her in"

Yasha knew Russian well enough to understand this. In fact, she spoke this language well enough to lead all the negotiations with the prison personnel by herself. But there was a very important part of Russian culture, that kept her away from that goddamned interview, she needed so bad: the Russians were ready to speak only with their kin. It was a miracle, Yasha found Olga, a mysterious guide, speaking many languages, seeming to be a part of any party out there. At the same time, it was a curse, as Olga seemed to be not interested at all in Yashas mission success. No amount of money, no promises of a better, more comfortable life seemed to change that woman's mood: she was ready to provide only a bare minimum of linguistic support and serve as a temporary host.

She tried everything: persuasion, entreaty, intimidation - nothing helped. Her guide kept repeating 'You either find a way to 'hozyain', or abandon this place and go live your happy calm life', all while emptying yet another glass of wine and looking at the prison wall on the far horizon.

Yasha was exhausted after the sixth round of negotiations with the prison administration. Today was the first evening in the last three months, when she was genuinely happy to get absolutely wasted with Olga, after they returned, to her place.

"To the losers party!" She laughs awkwardly, watching, as Olga places a full glass on the windowsill and goes back to take another one for herself.

"Here is to you never falling in that pit, kid..." Her guide gestures with a full glass to a window, from which Yasha sees a prison every day.

They spend some time in a comfortable silence, enjoying the wine, one would never find in this secluded place in other circumstances. But after a few minutes, Yasha speaks.

"Can I be honest with you? I'm sick and tired of this place, of all you, bowing before that 'hozyain', of this endless and pointless paperwork, of this shithole, that remains gray even in April! I spent three months, trying to meet Makarov, haven't made any progress, but I'm already sick of him too! Maybe, you're right, maybe I should just drop it. Maybe there is no story behind this man - only your collective helplessness and stupidity..."

Olga smiles into her glass, not seeming to protest any of those words. Yasha knows, it's high time, she shuts up, but she is too tired to hold back her anger.

"It looks to me, that you are all happy to just sit on your asses and rot here. You, Makarov, other prisoners, the whole prison staff, that goddamned 'hozyain', whoever he is... You are all just rotting alive, and you hate to be interrupted by me." Yasha takes a tiny sip and goes on. "You think, I didn't find it suspicious, you live in this half-dead village by the prison, have no job whatsoever and yet your fridge is always full and someone even provides you with an alcohol so good, you actually won't find it even in the nearest city? Do you really think i'm that stupid? I see you eating from your masters hands, I see you growing comfortably numb, drowning your sorrow in booze!"

She was ready for Olga to slap her face or drag her out in the cold, snowy night. But nothing, not even these accusations seemed to move anything inside this dead soul. A strange grimace breaks her hosts still face, and she whispers 'You are truly fucked, once you get the feeling, you understand this place and its people, kid. I, too, thought as you once. It was a mistake, that costed me everything. So be better than me - trust nothing you hear and see here'.

They don't talk anymore, not until the next morning, when Yasha wakes up with a heavy head, while Olga shakes her shoulder.

She is barely given time to wash her face and have a sip of water - Olga leads Yasha out of the house and on the road to prison barracks.

"Whats going on! Olga, please, slow down! I can't run through all these snowdrifts and gullies!"

Yashas guide remains deaf to her pleas. When they reach the familiar prison checkpoint - Yasha is a breathless mess, her head is killing her and a stink of wet tiled floor, washed with some cheap chlorine makes her stomach twist.

Olga throws a few words in the little window and the gates, Yasha was trying to get through for the past three months, open.

"Trust nothing you hear" - so that included Olgas words as well? She's been wasting Yashas time for months, when she could just... open this fucking door just like that?

She clenches jaw and avoids her guide's gaze, because all Yasha wants for now is to spit right into this lifeless face, yell at her, throw hands. So much time wasted for nothing. They are both get checked at three different gates. Every time the guards search every centimeter of their clothes, touch, slap, run their fingers through all the layers of textile. By the time they are left alone in a small visiting room - Yasha already have no fury left for Olga. She just wants a minute of silence, without anyone shouting around and commanding them. Yasha sinks into dusty sofa cushions and closes her eyes, while Olga stands in the corner of the room above the radiator.

Heavy footsteps echo in the corridors outside the room. In other circumstances she would freak out and scream internally because for the first time in her life, she came on the interview entirely unprepared: no voice recorder, no notes, not even a piece of paper or a pencil. But now all that bothers Yasha is her terrible headache. Maybe its even better this way, she thinks to herself.

When the door opens it feels like all the oxygen is suddenly sucked out of the visiting room. One gaze, one single gaze lingering on her face for a few seconds is enough for her to forget about the hangover, the rage, the resentment. One can not possibly contain this much hate and menace just in their eyes. But then again - this is no ordinary man. Yashas mouth runs dry, she can barely breathe, so when this man proceeds to Olga and grabs her by the collar of her coat, Yasha manages only to half whisper half hiss 'hey!'.

"Ya tebya kogda zval? Skol`ko mesyatzev nazad?" (When did I call you here? How many months ago?) He doesn't pay the slightest piece of attention to Yashas attempt to draw his attention from Olga.

But her guide seems unbothered by this man's hand, dragging her collar back, causing her to suffocate. Olga closes her eyes, leans against the wall and answers 'Otoidi, Makarov, i bez tebya toshno...' (Step away, Makarov, I feel bad enough even without your help). The way these two interact is very unsettling. No rivalry as well as no warmth in their voices - just tiredness and irritation, as if they wish to part their ways, but can't for some reason. Yasha can't understand, if the man is trying to hurt her guide, as he tightens his grip, or he is trying to check on something, as his other hand slips under her collar in one swift motion and squeezes something on Olgas back, making her frown in pain.

"Govoril tebe lechitsya? Ya k doktoram tebya skol`ko raz vyzyval?!" (Did I tell you to get a proper treatment? How many times have I called you to the doctors?!) His voice is low and angry, like a deep rumble of some forest beast.

When he slams Olgas head against the wall, Yasha jumps from the sofa, not being able to witness any second more. She shouts for guards to come and help, and that finally breaks the man's concentration. Two guards really appear in the room almost immediately, but they freeze on the threshold the very next moment, they see, who is holding Olga, while she tries to wipe her bleeding nose with shaking hands.

"And what do you think, they should do?" The man turns to face journalist, and his gaze seems burning right through her. "Chain me up? Set this piece of shit free? Maybe beat me?"

Yasha feels her hands turning cold. She takes a step back, shooting a desperate gaze at the guards, but they still don't move. "Please," she whispers.

An amused smile appears on the mans face. "Watch," he say and turns back to the guards.

"Oruzhie" (Guns) After this command both guards take out their guns, and approach him and holding it out.

"Na stol." (On the table) He waits till both guns are on the table and lets go of Olgas collar. She slides down the wall, gasping for air.

"Etu v lazaret. Nas ne bespokoit`. Stvoly zaberete cherez chas." (Take this one to the med bay. Don't bother us. You will get your guns back in an hour)

Yasha can't believe her eyes: prison guards follow his commands as if he was their superior - not the most dangerous prisoner. They help Olga up and guide her out of the room, leaving her alone with the man, who murdered and tortured hundreds, if not more. And just as if it wasn't enough - they leave their guns to him. For three months Yasha believed, there is this village, where the prison personnel lives, then there is the prison itself and above this all there is this mysterious 'hozyain', the master, who decides, how this place and its people will live today and tomorrow. But now she sees him, she can reach out and touch him and, to her horror, she realizes that the hozyain and the main prisoner is one and the same person.

"So, you are the journalist, that wanted to speak to me that badly. How many months did Olga draw the wool over your eyes, before finally letting you here? Four? Five?" He sits down on a chair at the opposite side of the table and casually checks both guns.

"Three... Wait, where are the guards taking her? What are they going to do?!" By this point, she already can't think about an interview. Maybe Olga was an absolutely unbearable person, maybe she was disgusting in her self-destruction, but Yasha would never wish to leave her in this man's hands.

"Live here for three months already and still couldn't learn a word 'lazaret'? It means 'med bay in prison'. You see, our Olga is a very sick person, a lost soul, if you want. She was left here to keep an eye on me, but instead it is me, who has to feed her, make sure, she takes her medicine, lock her in a hospital when needed..." He pushes both guns to the opposite end of the table and gestures her to sit back, finally.

"What, I'm ruining a beautiful romantic story about the scary Russian beast, that has no compassion whatsoever?"

"No..." Yasha slowly descends back on a sofa, still not daring to look him back in the eyes. "You are only adding to it. It's clear, you despise her for whatever reason. You don't beat up someone, when you wish them to heal."

She takes a pause, weighing her next words. They may cost her not only her career, but her life.

"You... are keeping her. You think, bullet in her skull would be too much of a mercy, so you sit and watch as she slowly drowns herself."

For a minute, that feels to her like an eternity, he is watching her in silence. His eyes are a torture, his very presence is a torture.

"Nu tak kak - ya zver` ili chelovek?" (So who am I - a beast or a human?) He switches to Russian and talks somehow a bit quieter. But Yasha understands this question.

"Ne znaiy." (I don't know)

He leans back with a satisfied grin. This man loves the fear surrounding him like an invisible aura, he thrives in others panic and lostness.

"Nu tak prover`." (Well check it out) And with that words escaping his lips, Yasha got her worst job ever.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I've just finished reading 'Unwary'.

This was amazing - thank you for writing and sharing, and thank you for tagging me!

I can certainly sympathize with Theodwyn's view on Eomund. The things that make a man exciting at 20 quite often make him childish and irritating at 40 if he doesn't grow up and move beyond him.

Then we discover, Theodwyn is just as flawed that way herself. Also incapable of heeding the advice of others, not accepting she needs to change and behave more sensibly until it's too late.

I loved the add-on stuff about Thengel. I headcanon Thengel as being a hard, authoritarian father who set high standards and expected obedience (hence why Theoden is so worried about being worthy of his ancestors), and struggled to show love, especially to his kids. I also headcanon that one of the daughters was completely overlooked because she was quieter and plainer than her more glamorous and outgoing siblings. The 'second daughter' name in your story is a great but painful touch.

Would be interesting to see a follow-up from Eomer's perspective. The son who loves his parents unconditionally as a child realizes as an adult how flawed they both were. And perhaps it gives him some painful moments of self-reflection, sitting in vigil over Eowyn in the Halls of Healing after the Battle of Pelennor Fields, accepting that he himself suffers from the same rash stubbornness, and it almost got him killed as well. He tells himself he needs to do better and be better going forward, if he is to be a good King.

Beautifully done. Thank you again, for your lovely work :)

Thank you so very much! What a lovely message!

I think you and I are in a very similar place about Thengel! As someone who’s own father was a damn mess, he never had a good role model for fatherhood and so prioritized easily quantifiable things like discipline and obedience over squishier stuff like feelings, which he would never have imagined talking about with his dad. And since he was essentially forced back to Rohan against his will, I think that would also have made him very particular about wanting to have everything his own way once he was there. (Like an “I’m compensating for my lack of control in being here by overly controlling everything else” kind of deal.)

What you say about the lingering effect of the deaths of Éomund and Théodwyn on Éomer (and Éowyn) is really interesting. I sort of walked up to the edge of that in an earlier story, but I’d like to re-look at that now that I have a clearer sense in my own mind of how things went down with the parents. I wonder how much of the true circumstances of their deaths the kids would have ever been told. Éomund’s death was a matter of military tactics gone bad, so they probably would have learned that over time just from a description of the bare facts. But beyond knowing that their mother became inexplicably ill and died, did they know any more about the context?

It’s really interesting to think about and something I’d love to read more about, too, if anyone else has written (or will write) on that same overall theme!

(Also, have I ever told you that your Éomer “listen up fives, a ten is speaking” gifs are one of my ALL TIME favorite LOTR memes??? ♥️)

[idontplaytrack]

An Angel

College!Amber Appleton x fem!reader(platonic)

warnings: fluff, coarse language, mentions/description of depression & anxiety, mentions of losing a parent

In which, Amber Appleton calls reader an angel and causes her to get flustered

Amber was your roommate at Carnegie Mellon, she was shy, but when you needed help with anything, she’d never say no to you. She was now a good friend of yours- one of your closest friends in college. Not to mention, she was practically the perfect roommate: always cleans up after herself, helps keep the place clean even when it was supposedly your turn (your classes seem to be more hectic than hers). And she understood it. You thought it was fair to make it up to her if she took your turn doing chores- usually you’d get her a drink or dessert of some sort, on your way back to campus after visiting family.

When you left the dorm on Friday afternoon, she’d just gotten back from her last class of the day. And she did not look good- she seemed so pale, you were terrified that she’d pass out without anyone around. And despite your protests, she insisted you went home for the weekend to see your family, knowing how much it meant to you. That was Amber for you- always putting others first. You knew about her losing her father to an undiagnosed heart condition, then her mother to a car accident, maybe that was why she was so insistent of you going to see your own family every chance you got. Amber’a told you that to her, family was everything. Until it wasn’t, because she didn’t have anyone anymore. Well, she said she had her friends in high school, but now, everyone lost contact with the exception of two friends. But even then, they barely ever talked.

Anyway, you were now in your car, driving back to the campus- well, the dorm. Your Mom made you some extra soup for Amber after hearing you mention that she was ill. Also, you’d made Amber text you periodically. Because…let’s face it. You were deathly worried about that girl. She doesn’t like asking for help. She fears it, almost. And that absolutely ticks you off. Why was she like that? I mean, you knew why. But still, ugh.

Oh, and her last text?

————

“Amber?” You called out.

“My gosh, why are you back early?”

“Told you I’d see for myself, didn’t I? My family sees enough of me.” You laugh, “My little siblings are asking why I’m always home. I dunno what to tell them.”

She cracked a smile.

“Did you eat?” You asked.

“What? Of course I have been eating.” She sat up.

“Good.” You nodded, “Okay, my Mom gave us extra food and soup - so you’d better eat up later.”

“Alright.” She sighs softly, a chuckle escapes her lips, “Tell your Mom I said thank you.”

“I will.” You assured, putting down the plastic bag containing the Tupperwares. “Did the fever break?”

“Came back this morning.” She mumbled.

“Are you sure this is just a cold?”

“Yes. I’m not throwing up, so it’s not the flu or a stomach bug. Nothing else hurts other than my head.” She listed.

“Okay, okay.” You laughed lightly, throwing her hands up in mock defeat, “I’m gonna take a shower real quick, you…don’t try and do anything to make yourself pass out.”

She laughs heartily, “I’m just gonna be sitting here or walking to the kitchen to refill my water bottle. Promise.”

“Okay, Amber.” You let out another laugh before disappearing into the bathroom with a fresh change of clothes and your towel.

Okay, at least she was fine when you were done with your shower- she’d dozed off while watching some random movie on her laptop. You paused the video, put her laptop on her desk then draped the blanket over her properly. Last thing you did, was to feel her forehead with the back of your hand: she was a little warm, but you figured you could probably let her sweat it out with this nap first instead of waking her up to take a dose of fever reducer. It was really quiet, so you thought she’d actually passed out. Meanwhile, you located your own laptop and resumed working on a paper you’d pressed pause on- you were fresh out of the shower, your mug filled with your favourite coffee, your headphones were on as your favourite songs played through them. It was the perfect scenario for productivity.

After a little over an hour, you decided you were done. Saving the document, you yawned, a little tired. But, you were satisfied you completed the work- though, you still needed to proofread it and make edits after this. Your gaze lands on Amber who was beginning to stir in her sleep. Removing your headphones, you hear the girl let out a groan as she moved around in her slumber. Your ears perked up in concern as you approached her sleeping figure - watching her like a hawk to decide your next move. Within seconds, though, she was awake. You ask if she was okay. “I’m uh, gonna need that fever medicine.”

“As you wish.” You shrugged, walking back to the cabinet above the bathroom sink to retrieve the bottle. You hand it to her as she took a sip of water to hydrate, making her dry throat feel better. “Your head really hurts, doesn’t it?” You questioned knowingly. She admitted it with a nod of her head as she tilted it up to aid the swallowing of the pill. “I was supposed to take another dose anyway - so, right on time. Thanks.”

“I think you’d better eat a little bit, y’know. It’s not good to take that on an empty stomach.” You took out the Tupperwares from its bag, then going to grab a bowl and set of cutlery.

“Okay.” She doesn’t protest, “You should eat some too if you haven’t. It’s been awhile since you first got back.”

“I will,” You flashed her a smile as you filled the bowl with the sopita your Mom cooked.

“Thank you.” She says while stirring the food with her spoon, she watches the pieces float around in the bowl.

“What? What for?”

“For taking care of me. For caring.” Amber purses her lips together, “It’s been pretty hard for me to make friends that even make it out of the lecture halls. Barely anyone ever reaches out to me again, and it’s just something that I’ve gotten used to, I guess. Why are you so nice to me?”

“Of course I am. You’ve been a great friend- always nice to me, happy to help. If you’re nice to me, you’ll know. However of course, if you aren’t, you’ll also know because I’ll tell you like it is.”

“You’re an angel.” She remarked, you nearly choked on your mouthful of noodles and veggies. She watched you, alarmed, then quickly patted your back.

“I’m fine.” You chuckled awkwardly.

“I mean it, though. This is really nice of you. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Amber, listen to me. You’re my friend and I care about you, just like you do for me.” You inevitably let a sigh escape.

“I’m just…not used to it, accepting help.” She finally admitted.

“Yeah.”

“I know, I have been going to therapy but I still have a lot of work to do.”

“All progress is progress.” You smiled.

[keylovesstuff]

Alright I'm posting so that must mean I'm sharing another fic lmao

Finding A Balance

They really tried to find a home and proper humans to raise Peach. Granted their map was more than outdated of the neighboring worlds that surrounded their area but, they were sure her species despite how little there were, inhabited the places. With all that info they took the last known warp pipe that connected to the place of the day. They spent about a week following the same routine:

Take Peach to a town

Talk to the locals to see if anyone had recognized her or reported a child of her description missing. 

The second step took up the majority of the day as they underestimated just how needy traveling with a three year old could be and two, just finding people who would let them get more than one word out. It was something every two or three minutes. She would tell them she was hungry, they'd step into a cafe or food court,  and pay a few gold coins once they found something suitable. They had a couple of close calls when it came to frequent potty breaks but they managed.  Rarely would she voice aloud of being tired, they often had to go off of Peach's body language or sudden change in mood. Anyway they would find a moderately quiet area and take turns staying with her while she rested. They would end the day watching her play with children (in a park if there was one) as they talked to a few more stragglers about their way.

finally they would take the pipe from which they came back to Toad Town and Peach would always go home with Toadsworth.

They came close to finding her a family once on their last day. A kind couple willing to take her in and give her a wonderful life. Peach interacted with them well and with her addition fit in the picture perfectly with those two. The toads felt bittersweet happiness as they were actually able to give her what they felt she deserves. It was only when both groups of people started heading separate ways, Peach with the couple that she started to cry, reaching out  frantically to the Mushroom people. The person put her down and she ran straight into Toadsworth's arms hugging him as tightly as she could.  Both sets of people came to the same conclusion almost immediately...This child knew where and who she wanted to be with.

The Toads adored her and when it was announced that they would be taking care of her permanently, They gathered all their talents together to provide her with the necessities. They had already washed and dried the clothes she arrived in daily, while she wore a t-shirt and slightly big pants at night. Now that she was living with them, Tailors got together and crafted a variety of different outfits and even shoes. Toadsworth shared with them his vast knowledge about humans so they all could be more attuned to her needs. Some took special interest in hairstyling, took the time to better develop their vaccines and medications in case she became ill, and educate her on their customs.  They eventually put her in their school system with all the other children and she continued to flourish.  Peach loved everyone just as much as they did her but, anyone would be lying if they said she didn't favor her primary caretaker Toadsworth above anyone else.

When not in school, the girl was practically his shadow and if he was alone, she wasn't too far behind.  Peach took great joy and pride in everything she presented to Toadsworth. A drawing? He was the first to see, Learnt a new skill? She showed him as soon as she got home,  Had a particularly amazing day? She'd tell him all about it in great detail. Peach, like all children, also sought him out for comfort when experiencing distressing emotions. Had a bad dream? She'd still crawl into bed with him even though she grew much taller, Lacking confidence with something new? She'd go to him for encouragement, Had a bad day? While it took some coaxing, he would go through it all with her and promised a better tomorrow.

It was that bond they shared, the natural leadership, love, and small acts that she showed to everyone that caught the newly formed councils attention. After coming across a book titled "What all best Kingdom's had" , They had been going over potential candidates for leaders as their people were growing in numbers. They wanted someone who everyone would gather under and follow loyally. If the history books were anything to go off on and news of neighboring kingdoms, some humans made amazing rulers. With a bit of convincing they got Toadsworth to talk to a young Peach of the possibility of leading them all one day, on the condition that once her training was done he'd be her second in command.  Peach accepted the proposition at the age of eleven and a half, promising to give it her best to ensure that everyone had a peaceful and happy life when she was in charge. It seemed as though the first year of training drove a wedge in between their bond.

At first Toadsworth assumed the distance forming between them was due to her reaching the age of puberty that all humans experienced and he was holding off on discussing that with her till he did more research on the topic. Maybe it was a little bit of that but, some days after training she'd close herself off into her room. Peach would sometimes slip up sometimes when addressing him, at some point he insisted she call him by his name and not father.  It hurt him to do this but he had to remind himself it was for the benefit of the future. So many times throughout just the first year he wanted to pull her out of it all with the visible emotional toll she showed. That would bring about consequences for the future if she didn't go through all the formal training is what he would tell himself. It was for the future of the kingdom they were trying to build that he had to change their dynamic, while it was hard, it was for the best.

Now here she was nervously sitting at the table eating her breakfast after coming home late for another night this month. He gave her a lecture about it all before the two went to bed. Peach looked like she wanted to share something with him, but failed to find the right words to start. Toadsworth settled on reminding her to fix her posture and stop chewing her nails at the table, which she quickly followed with a yes sir. He had to get her to lessons in thirty minutes and be in a meeting in an hour. While going over a brief guideline of her schedule for the day she interrupted him, finally telling him what was on her mind.

"I met the Prince of the darklands last night and they offered to fix the houses. I'm going to meet him when I go on break." Peach told him slowly, getting no reaction she continued. "He also promised to help us with resources around the areas no one else goes and that he'd be our first ally" she added. That got a reaction from him.

"You are in no way permitted to be making alliances as you please without the supervision of the council" He told her slightly raising his voice. "You will nullify any contract you have with this Prince when we meet him." He stated not leaving any room for further discussion.

That was one of their first arguments and a decision that he had wished he made her follow through with if he was able to see the future. To her credit, this guy, Prince Bowser was a man of his word and that was one thing Toadsworth could respect. In no time his charge, Kamek, was called to restore the damaged houses to their original states with his magic. The pair decided to stick around for a little while after that to see just what kind of training they had their future Princess doing. It was laughable and Bowser said as much while adding that it would not prepare her for enemies in other worlds, she could navigate his world without almost dying before he joined her. They were all taken aback for a moment by his bluntness and then explained to him the process of what they had Peach going through. The Koopa Prince shocked them again when he offered up not only his knowledge of other worlds but his own minions to aid her in becoming better at combat.

The council while skeptical at first huddled up and considered the pros and cons, finding more benefits, they agreed. Bowser even sweetened up the deal with what he told Peach that night. This guy along with his people would venture into the unknown lands and guide them in conversing with other Kingdoms when it was time. This is what they were working up to, it did help to have some assistance., and opportunities like this don't come by very often. Again, Toadsworth was just amazed at how well Bowser held up his end of the bargain. They ended up uncovering red mushrooms that increased their size and strength for a little while and that came in handy for producing new buildings, one of those being the castle. Toadsworth was apprehensive about Bowser introducing Peach to his minions who did not hold back in training sessions.

"Please, if she can't handle the most simple people from my world with mushrooms. You guys might wanna rethink who you want as a ruler." Bowser scoffed at Toadsworth's ridiculous question if 'all this was really necessary' "Hey what part of all you jump on their heads don't you get?" He asked Peach as she fell off the course from a Piranha plant reverting back to normal. The elder toad was about to say something about how he addressed Peach but she spoke first.

"Not everyone is some mutated fire breather. I want the fire flower now" she told him with a pout.

"Nope you need to complete it first with the mushroom since it's your primary power up here, then I'll think about giving you the flower" He said nodding towards the fire flower on the ground. With the toads supervision, they allowed Bowser to assist with the training. "Oh and you'll have to do it all again in heels and dress. What do you think the environment will give you a chance to change?" He added waving her back to the course with a laugh as she grumbled rubbing her arm.

This was the first of many instances throughout the years that had Toadsworth questioning the 'friendship' that the two had. Sometimes he would come in at the end of a conversation where Bowser would be giving her backhanded compliments. Peach, for the most part, would laugh it off and when Toadsworth addressed them about it, they would tell him it would better prepare her for conferences with other rulers and that they'd be more brutal in their deliveries. The elder toad could somewhat understand the point but that didn't mean he had to like it and he doubted it would be appropriate for an advisor to speak out of turn. Another thing about Bowser that started to grind his gears was just how egotistical he could be at times and how Peach would just brush it off. One particular day where the Koopa haggled a toad merchant to give him food for the simple fact that they would not have that specific item if it weren't for his connections. Outrage overtook him at first and then the thought that his behavior influenced their new Princess to act this way. 

When he shared this information with Peach, she assured him that she would handle his behavior and that his actions didn't mirror her own. He was shocked months later, she had come to him, telling him that the King had proposed to her and immediately interjected.

"Absolutely not, a brute like that is far from fit to rule by your side you will go to him at once-" Toadsworth all but commanded pacing back and forth in her private quarters. She spoke just loud enough to get through to the advisor before his blood pressure could raise any higher.

"I did reject it. I personally don't like him in that way enough to marry" She told him while brushing her hair at the vanity stand. Seeing him relax in the reflection of the mirror.

"Oh well, I will commend you for that decision. Your people will be most satisfied without having to answer to his orders." He nodded contently, taking a seat in his designated chair.

"Well to be honest I didn't have the Kingdom in mind when I said 'no'" she continued wiping off the day's makeup "I mean I know what you're going to say-" she added mouthing along as he started.

"When you become a Princess your people's well-being comes first." He recited as he's done time and again. "We will find you an appropriate suitor when the time is ready" clearing his throat.

"While I appreciate any advice you and the council share, I'm sure I can choose someone with great qualities" Peach told him while organizing her beauty supplies.

"Well my dear, choosing who you're friends and allies with is far different than choosing a romantic partner."  He cautiously said adjusting his glasses.

"Are you really on this again? You're acting like I accepted his proposal" she complained, raising her voice slightly. "He really is a good friend and I've talked to him. We wouldn't be where we are right now without his help." She stood and walked over to the bookcase and scanned it for an interesting pick.

"I understand that Princess but, now that you're in a leadership role you should really consider the company you keep around. Sometimes it's best to leave old friends in the past." Toadsworth offered, much to Peach's growing annoyance.

"Look Toadsworth, can we talk about this some other time? I already told you I rejected his proposal, He's been a huge help, and I'm old enough to make reasonable decisions. " She loaded onto with a roll of the eyes and then gave a soft sigh. "Look I'm sorry for the outburst but I want you guys to start trusting me, your Princess. This is what you guys trained me for remember?" She walked towards him and led the elder to the door.

"Very well, please do think about what I said and be ready tomorrow morning by 7am sharp we have a meeting in the grand hall" He reminded her. Peach nodded and added a few "okay" to let him know she was listening before closing the door with a goodnight.

Toadsworth had a hard time pinpointing when it became harder to have a conversation with Peach. Perhaps now being a Princess she was feeling the pressure while trying to explore her independence.  Was he crowding her too much? This advisor position was just as new to him as her role was to her. He wanted to do the job well and watch her prosper.  Maybe he should change his approach, give her more positive validation and give her advice to push her in the right direction when she comes for it. That's exactly what he did when she anxiously asked him a week later on how the people seemed to be faring as she hadn't been in contact with him.  Toadsworth for the most part was honest in his response, everyone was thriving but for some reason she didn't believe it.

This went on for a few more weeks at most and Toadsworth was honestly glad he hadn't seen Bowser around in a while. After the last discussion, Peach would never bring him up as a topic and Toadsworth never asked about him either. He was about to break their silent agreement by assuming the King was responsible for her prolonged anxiety. One day after finishing all her duties she excused herself and an hour later, she and Bowser were sipping tea together on the balcony. Later that night he did ask about things and she just brushed it off saying it was nothing too serious and they had worked it out. While unconvinced, he didn't press further and the days that followed she returned to the confident young leader she was taught to be. The next two years went by with little hiccups here and there but otherwise no problems especially when it came to interacting with other diplomats.

Meeting Prince Haru of the flower Kingdom had been a breath of fresh air not only for Toadsworth and the citizens but for Peach as well. Sure she kept Bowser around but the advisor could settle with that due to Haru's positive influence. When he saw the two of them together, his heart swelled with pride. The two were similar in their values,  mannerisms,  and morals which was perfect in his eyes. Though surprised at first, he quickly recovered when the gentleman asked for his blessings.  He would have liked for the two to be involved a little while longer but they were so happy together and he was sure his answer would be the same now as well as in the future. Peach had shown remarkable leadership skills as a Princess that she would make a fabulous Queen for both kingdoms.

Going as far as telling her such, days and even weeks into her engagement. Toadsworth thought that would bring her excitement for the future, but it seemed to make her more worried. He also assured Peach that they would still be there along with Haru to guide and teach her how to be an exceptional Queen.  Still she wore a look of uncertainty at his words as the big day grew closer. Two days till the scheduled day she had a breakdown insisting that she just wasn't ready and wanted to call it all off. That night was probably the first time in awhile the two reverted to the original days. Peach cried in his arms all through the night and once she calmed down enough, they spoke through everything.

They worked out the best way to let everyone know that things were canceled and that they appreciated all the efforts that went towards it so far. Peach later told him that Haru, while saddened, took it well and they mutually agreed to end their relationship but promised to be there for each other and their Kingdoms. After that the Princess spent months doing all she could to make the mushroom kingdom great on its own. Toadsworth thought there was another disagreement at the time but Peach told him she wanted to see what she could as a leader on her own without being tied to anyone.  Bowser still came to visit from time to time but they became less frequent as duties for both took priority. The most confident she had been in years, not only were her people proud of everything she was doing but her reputation spread to other kingdoms. One particular day, she took a visit to the Ice kingdom and the council had complete faith in her to handle the meeting on her own.

Toadsworth was in his private office finishing the final calculations of the Kingdoms finances when there was a knock at his door. That was unusual since everyone had gone home or returned to their private chambers within the castle for the evening. In fact, the only reason he was still up other than putting in some overtime was to wait and greet the Princess when she returned. Thinking that it was her, he opened the door to reveal the Koopa King at this late hour. Shocked, he told him the Princess wasn't available for an audience especially at this time of night and that he could return tomorrow at a more convenient time. He gave no chance for him to respond, starting to close the door before it was abruptly held open in its place by Bowser's large palm. The King requested a conversation with the elder toad and although he was hesitant he allowed him to enter leaving the door slightly ajar and sit in the chair in front of his desk.

"Absolutely not. The Princess is not looking for any commitments at the moment and you would be the last on the list of candidates if I have any say." Toadsworth sternly slammed his fist on the table after the King told him that he would be marrying Peach.

"That wasn't me asking for your permission, gramps." Bowser responded coldly with a low menacing laugh.

"Over my dead body will you force the Princess to do anything against her will." He growled and glared unafraid at the King three times his size. "Get out now!" He demanded, pointing at the door.

"If that's all it takes" he started standing up slowly with an evil chuckle. Slamming a fist in the desk breaking it in half. 

With little reaction time Toadsworth was able to push the rolling chair he was seated in away from the intended area of impact. He wasn't quite lucky with what came next as Bowser retracted into his shell spinning around and towards him. The force knocked the mushroom back into the wall. Before he lost consciousness,  he faintly saw the King standing over him claws up ready to finish the job and heard the sound of a glass breaking along with Peaches scream. 

The moment he awoke he was met with the white ceiling and the steady beeps coming from the monitor. Slowly he turned his head on the pillow and was met with the sleeping form of the Princess at the desk facing towards him. Head in her arms he saw that even with her eyes closed, her eyebrows were furrowed with worry and that her cheeks were stained with a streak of dried tears. A yawn he didn't know he was holding in was what caused the Princess to abruptly wake up. It took her a moment to take in her surroundings before she faced him, water filled her eyes for the few moments they held eye contact with each other.

"Toadsworth" she cried out moving first causing the chair she was sitting in to fall on the floor as she quickly jumped up. "You're ok. I thought, I thought you were" Peach started, arms wrapped around the man, hiccuping a bit as she started to cry, not daring to finish the sentence.

"I'm not going anywhere as long as you need me my Princess" Toadsworth promised her, wrapping his arms around her and combining his hands through her hair in comfort.

"Then you'll surely live forever cause I'm always going to need you" She tightened her arms more around him more but not enough to cause him any discomfort. 

Like her duties, Peach made it a priority to visit Toadsworth room every time she had a break until he was fit enough to be released. He had tried to ask her what had gone down between her and Bowser that night and she insisted that he not worry about it and focus on recovering. Peach told him once he was back in good health, she would tell him everything. So now, here they were in Toadsworth private quarters, both of them sitting beside each other on his bed. 

"After I restrained him with the Ice flower I bought back, I grabbed the halberd from one of the toad guards that came." She paused hands twitching a bit. He put his hand atop of hers and the action immediately ceased. "I was going to end him right then, I didn't care if his people would retaliate...in that moment I promised to fight them with all I had for my people" Peach told him staring at the floor, she closed her eyes and sniffled. "But I couldn't do it." Unsuccessfully she let tears fall.

"You're ok," he told her, rubbing her hand. It took about five minutes before she calmed herself down. "What happened next?" he urged her to continue.

"He mocked me for not being able to go through with it and proposed to me again. Said that as his wife he'd show me how to follow through with the action." Peach now had her hands clenched in fists. "I told him, I wouldn't marry him if he had the most powerful weapon in the world" she finished. 

Toadsworth only hummed in response. Knowing how determined that guy could be, he wouldn't put it past him to do just that. The advisor took a mental note to do some research on other powerups and if he found something of interest to bring it up with the council at a future meeting. He looked at the Princess as she once again started talking.

"I told him that I no longer wish to have an alliance with him and he said, If you'd rather be an enemy than an ally, then I'll make ruling impossible" she said his statement a shudder and it sent a shiver down his spine.  Another note to come up with solutions to up the security around the entire Kingdom. "Then he called for Kamek, who appeared and poofed them both out of there. We all ran over to you, a couple of guards went to wake up the medics and we took you to the infirmary" with that statement her story was finished and she looked him in the eyes. "I should have listened to you over the years. I'm sorry that it took him attacking and almost killing you to realize that." She removed her hands from under his and leaned down to hug him.

"Of course I forgive you my dear, you have a good heart and that makes you a great leader. This is something you'll grow from" He returned the hug and they stayed like that for a while.

It had been a quiet five years since the encounter. They put many precautions in place starting with blocking the pipe to the darklands. No one was able to go in and nothing was able to come out. They relied on communications with allies that were still in contact with the darklands to know about their movements. Currently it looked as though his army was searching for something as they kept going back and forth to different worlds. With all the research they still weren't able to pinpoint what exactly as they crossed out everything they came across due to its rarity. Toadsworth was approaching his 50th birthday and as luck would have it he won a sweepstakes to the beautiful isles of delfino.

He hadn't taken a vacation in forever and everyone including the Princess insisted that he deserved it with all the work he put in on the daily. With all the encouragement around he decided to take it, Buying his plane ticket and Packing his bags. It came to the day of his departure and as he was heading down the corridor he was approached by the Princess, who had just finished up with everything for the day.

"Oh is it that time for you to leave already?" She phrased it as more of a statement than a question. "Um well I hope you have a good time. I'll do my best to make sure everything stays in place while you're away" Peach told him, feigning confidence. He smiled and walked toward her holding onto her hand.

"I know you'll be able to do it Princess. We will figure out what he's planning and make sure everyone is protected." He promised, squeezing her hand.

"Right. I'll try to keep you updated with the letters. Stay safe and have a nice time. I'll miss you." She squeezed his hand back and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. Thinking about it for a moment she then bent down all the way and gave him one final hug.

"A month will be over before you know it my dear. You can do it, we're all here for you" He hugged her back and she nodded against him.

A day later, a council member came bursting into the throne room telling everyone the Ice kingdom had fallen.

[lesbianmaxevans]

Max & Liz from Roswell, New Mexico (2019-2022) || Nick & George from Nancy Drew (2019-2023) [part I] happy birthday @helloyona

[Image Description: Nine stacked gifs, each one divided vertically in half. On the left is a scene from Roswell, New Mexico. On the right is a scene from Nancy Drew. Each gif also has capitalized, blocky text overlaying the images in the center.

THE GUARDED, CLOSED OFF ONE: Liz says, “I don’t trust people. I’ve been burned too many times. I use facts and evidence to build a cage around my heart. I can’t help it, I can’t change it. And, honestly, I don’t think I would want to. It’s my armor.” // George says, “ I have a mother who is a neglectful alcoholic, and I’ve had to raise three little sisters on my own. It was really hard, but I adapted, and life hasn’t made me nice. It’s made me vicious.“

THE PROTECTIVE, RUNS INTO DANGER ONE: Max runs into a building as Liz calls after him  // Nick quickly runs into a lake after a friend (offscreen) while George watches, visibly scared

TOP-TIER LOVE CONFESSIONS: Max stands in front of Liz and says, “But you’re not perfect. I see your faults. And I love you. Easily. You believe in the good in me when I can’t see it. So, is it so crazy that I believe in you too? Without evidence. I just… know.” // Nick gently tucks a strand of George’s hair behind her ear. She stares at him in shock as he says, "I love you. You take care of everything and everyone, and I know you don’t need anyone to take care of you, but you need to know you’re loved. Okay, you asked me before what changed from yesterday to today, what do I stand to lose, and… It’s us.”

LIFE-ALTERING FIRST KISS: (this is pretty self explanatory)

DEATH & RESURRECTION: 1 - Liz cries over Max’s lifeless body. 2 - Rosa uses her new ability to restart his heart. // 1 - Nick stares helpless at George after she’s been impaled. 2 - George gasps for air after Nancy uses a magical shroud.

AMNESIA PLOT: Liz looks relieved as she hugs Max, when she pulls away Max says, “I’m - I’m so sorry. Have we met?” // George rushes to Nick, saying, "Nick, you’re okay!” He recoils from her and responds, “Uh, who are you? Wait, you know me?”

FATAL ILLNESS POST RESURRECTION: Max, clearly not in a healthy state is talking with Isobel. M: "The heart is what’s the matter.” I: “No. You’re better. Valenti did a transplant. It’s better.” M: “Yeah. And my body’s rejecting it.” // George is talking to her grandmother’s spirit, and she tells George, “Your life line is beginning to merge with Odette’s. Your original line had a rocky start, but ended up happy and long. Odette’s life line is violent and brief. If you do not find a way to sever your connection, your life line will be greatly shortened.”

 SABOTAGING NEWLY-FOUND STABILITY: After Max learns of her experiments, Liz says, “I’ve discovered something that could be the key to curing people who have no hope otherwise. I can’t walk away!” Max angrily responds, “So you’re gonna turn my family’s stem cells into the hottest commodity?” // George says, "[Dating other people is an] option that I never got to explore when I had an expiration date. I want us to be together for the right reasons, not because we just settled for each other.” Nick, in disbelief, responds, “Oh, you -- you settled for me?”

DOUBLE PROPOSALS: 1 - Max seems very emotional as he says, “What I want to say is that meeting you and being with you elevated my life. When you moved in, you did something I didn’t think was possible. You taught me that I can grow so much more.” 2 - On another occasion, Liz smiles as she holds a ring box behind her back. // 1 - George stands in front of Nick and says, “No more delayed gratification. No more waiting... Ned Nickerson… Will you marry me?” 2 - Nick kneels as he holds a ring box and says, “My answer’s yes. It’s yes. It always has been, with my… with my whole heart... No matter what tries to get in our way, I am never saying goodbye to you. In this life or the next.”]

[savameh]

OC Profile: Liensta [Agnes Edelstein] (Hetalia)

Country Information

Country Name: Republic of Liensta

Official Languages: Lienstan German/Lienstan (haven’t decided if it’s a dialect of German or a separate Germanic language entirely but many place names are based on German), English

Capital: Eichenstadt

Description: The Republic of Liensta is a (fictional) floating sky island nation. It is located on the border between Germany and Austria, sitting about a mile up in the sky. Physically, it is somewhat bowl-shaped, the lowest point being the lake Eiche See in the middle of the country. The country’s single main river, the river Chausk, flows into Eiche See. Most of the country is composed of rolling hills, with some mountains in the southwest, west, northwest, and east of the country (the ones in the western part of the country are bigger).

A Brief History: It is unknown how long Liensta has existed physically, or why and how. It first appeared in historical records during the Roman times, but some historians believe that its existence inspired the existence of Mount Olympus from Greek mythology and Asgard from Norse mythology. It was uninhabited until the 9th century, when Germanic mages found a way to fly up and settle it. The country was officially founded in the 10th century. Despite its magic origins, Liensta managed to stay connected to the mundane world below, historically and culturally. Its closest ties was with Austria, the Holy Roman Empire, and eventually Germany. For a long time, until the 19th century, Liensta was considered neutral ground, and everyone left their conflicts out of the sky. It was during the 19th century that Prussia invaded Liensta and took it over until Lienstan forces were able to drive the Prussian ones out. I haven’t worked out what happened during the World Wars in Liensta, but in modern times, it is independent and peaceful. It is part of the EU, and has multiple entrances into the country where you can take a gigantic elevator up (or, for the old-fashioned, a hot air balloon)

(Also, if anyone with better historical knowledge wants to add or change things about Liensta’s history, feel free to do so! My historical knowledge is quite shaky)

Character Biographical Information

Human name: Agnes Edelstein

Physical age: Early 20s

Gender: Cisgender female

Height: 5’3

Eye color: Violet (the same color as the dulceflor, a flower only found in Liensta)

Hair color: Light brown, with a white streak at the front, a physical reminder of the time Prussia/Gilbert conquered her

Backstory: In her toddlerhood and part of her childhood (at least a few centuries), Agnes was raised alongside her twin brother, Austria/Roderich. As time went on, they were separated, having to attend to their duties in their respective countries, but they still managed to find their way back to each other. During the Renaissance, they even lived in the same house, along with Hungary, North Italy, and HRE. Of course, this didn’t last forever, and they were separated once more. Sometime in the 18th century, she met her closest friend, Canada/Matthew, when she was introduced to him by France/Francis and they stayed in contact through letters and saw each other whenever possible. Eventually, she’d develop a crush on him and pine for him for a long time. In the 19th century, Prussia invaded, and Gilbert essentially kidnapped Agnes and forced her to live in his home and be his servant, causing her to permanently hate him. Eventually, she managed to escape his home but was greatly weakened and ill. Sweden/Berwald found her and got her back on her feet, and she was able to drive Prussia out of her country. Like I said, I don’t know what she did during the World Wars but I imagine that for a while she was living in the same house as her brother, Germany/Ludwig, and Gilbert. In modern times, she’s pretty much just chilling.

Personality: Socially, she is introverted and prefers to be alone/keep to herself, but when she does socialize, she is a friendly, calm, and polite presence (usually). That being said, she is also not the best at reading social cues and can come across as blunt, strange, or socially awkward at times. She gets grumpy or irritated on occasion, but she’s slow to truly anger. When she does truly anger - watch out, because her anger is explosive and she is capable of being very destructive while angry.

In addition, she is AuDHD (very late diagnosed - probably in the mid-to-late 2010s), which makes her come across as scatter-minded, contradictory, and a bit odd. She has sensory issues, especially with food and clothing, and is prone to crying meltdowns when anxious or overstimulated. She also stims, her more common ones being pacing, spinning, and dancing.

Hobbies/Interests: Gardening/the environment, dancing (especially ballroom dancing/fancy rich people dancing, I also feel like she tried ballet at some point), magic (her country was founded by mages, of course she knows and can do magic!), crocheting, literature and books, music (she can play the violin, cello, piano, and harp, but she’s nowhere as good as her twin at playing instruments), TV shows

Special abilities: Due to being a floating sky nation, Agnes can manipulate the wind/airbend, as well as jump higher than all nations and float (useful for falling. In fact, sometimes she just jumps off her nation and floats down instead of taking an elevator or balloon). In addition, she can also do magic and spells, and is quite adept at it, although she doesn’t like to do it often. She hasn’t joined the Magic Trio because she’s too socially awkward to do so and she doesn’t know the three of them that well (in some AUs, this changes, especially in ones where Agnes starts dating Matthew and gets to know Arthur better by proxy)

Significant Relationships

Austria/Roderich - Her twin brother. Overall, they are very close, but there is some underlying angst that could be resolved. Part of Agnes resents him for not being around as often as he could, due to his marriages, and she also resents him for not doing anything to rescue her from Gilbert’s rule (he tried, but Hungary/Erzebet convinced him not to, but Agnes doesn’t know that). Sometimes, their personalities clash, with Roderich being so uptight and formal and Agnes being less so, and with Agnes being much more outdoorsy, but they have more in common than they don’t. Both are huge fans of sweet things, introverts, music-lovers, not the strongest physically, not to mention autistic. They get each other, and Roderich is one of the few people who can defuse Agnes when she’s in her super-angry mode, and Agnes is very capable of getting Roderich out of his grumpiness at times and loosening him up. Deep down inside, they love each other very much and take a bullet for one another.

From his side, Roderich very much regrets kinda neglecting her in the past, especially during his marriages, and he definitely regrets not making an effort to rescue Agnes from Gilbert. He is unsure how to make his regrets known or apologize, though.

Germany/Ludwig - Agnes’ little brother. She’s close with him and loves him, but not as much as Roderich. Gilbert’s presence in Ludwig’s life also influenced this. During her time as Gilbert’s servant, it was Ludwig who often comforted her and was a non-hostile presence, and she and him got to know each other very well during this time, and again during the World Wars when they were living together. Agnes does not like how much he hangs out with Gilbert, though, and Ludwig understands this, as much as it hurts him to see. He wants to get along with both of them without having to choose one over the other and loves them both. That being said, Agnes does not try to keep him from hanging out and associating with Gilbert, as much as it hurts her.

Prussia/Gilbert - technically Agnes’ estranged older brother. In her childhood, he was just an annoyance to her and teased her the way many siblings do, and she only saw him as an annoyance, but as the years went on and he started picking on Roderich and going to war with him, she began to dislike him more and more until he eventually kidnapped her/took her over, and she started to loathe him. In situations where she is forced to be in his vicinity, like world meetings and the like, she just pretends he doesn’t exist, and they do have to interact, she is uncharacteristically cold and rude to him. Most of the time, she will do anything to avoid him, including leaving social situations.

From his side, deep down, Gilbert understands why she treats him the way she does and part of him wants to apologize for how he treated her in the past and try and reconcile, but another part of him thinks this is hopeless

Canada/Matthew - One of Agnes’ closest friends (and crush in most AUs). They met at some fancy dinner thing in the 18th century, introduced by Francis, and since both were being ignored at this fancy dinner thing, they snuck off together and befriended one another. Afterwards, they stayed in contact, sending letters whenever they could (and eventually telegraph, then telephone, etc). Their personalities complement each other well, both being a little shy and outdoorsy and they both bond over being ignored/forgotten about a lot. In most AUs, it is hard for Agnes to not eventually develop a crush on him (and in most AUs he reciprocates!). Of course, then they end up pining for one another for years and years on end without doing anything about it….

Sweden/Berwald - Another good friend of Agnes’. After she escaped from Gilbert’s house, she was weak and ill and collapsed in the forest, and Berwald found her, took her back to his place, and nursed her back to health. As a result, they became friends and still are friends to this day, with the two of them exchanging gifts that either they themselves made or from their home countries a lot, and Berwald even inviting Agnes a few times to Christmas parties with the rest of the Nordics. Agnes is one of the few people who sees past his scary exterior and he appreciates her for that. (I have one AU where Berwald is bisexual and they end up together as well)

————————

If anyone wants to know about other relationships, just ask! These are just her most significant ones

Also, if you have any questions in general about her, please ask!! I love talking about my OCs

Official art of her and some of the AUs I have with her will be coming later!

[gon-and-killuas-mother]

i am attempting "light therapy" to help fix my sleep schedule and i'm cranky about it

my aunt, who's a neuropsychiatrist (one of the few women in her field and fairly well known at this point, don't know if anyone's heard of Dr. Jo Cara Pendergrass but damn she's cool) was in town this week to look after her mom post-cataract surgery

Cara is probably the smartest person in the family, all things considered

(my brother and I give her a run for her money but neither of us intend on getting a goddamn PhD lol) (also my dad wouldn't appreciate me saying that, he is also pretty smart. but like. he's got intelligence, he's just lacking in wisdom)

ANYWAY. of all the people in the family, Cara is the person i rarely have to explain my illnesses to. usually, i have to tack on a brief description of it anytime i say "yeah i have EDS and fibromyalgia and IBS and--"

but last time i saw her over Christmas, i told her the diagnosis and had my script prepared to explain, but she just went "Oh yeah Ehlers Danlos -- wait. Oh."

her face did the thing where she was processing new info at light speed by blinking and cycling through several expressions as the pieces of the mystery that is my chronic ailments settled themselves in place

unfortunately i wasn't at the point where i was comfortable enough to tell anyone how miserable and in pain i was, that was something i put off another couple of months before i confessed to Nana that i'd become a grocery thief and was on my way to being homeless. that's also around when my brother asked my permission to share my story with the family, because he knows how difficult it is for me to admit how much i'm struggling.

i'm rambling tbh but only to keep me awake and sitting outside long enough

ANYWAY

so Cara was here this week. i went to visit the other night. we always have really interesting conversations about our brains and genes and family shite, i don't think anyone other than my brother and i can actually hold a conversation with her about that kind of shit.

i did NOT go there just for advice, but when i told her how much trouble i've had getting out of bed before evening, she gave me a couple of tips that i'm now trying out

1). the 24-hour sleep deprivation strategy

it sounds like a nightmare to me, but apparently has supporting evidence that, at least in the short term, resets your circadian rhythm.

if you've ended up awake hours past your desired bedtime, then instead of simply going to bed late, it's advised* to keep yourself awake throughout the rest of the day until the next bedtime.

( * WITH CONSULTATION OR SUPERVISION OF A DOCTOR)

the reason this is supposedly effective is that the longer you stay awake, the higher the sleep pressure becomes (sleep pressure is just your body's signal to go the fuck to bed, which is something i'm intimately familiar with as it's a constant companion of mine regardless of sleep hygiene). the higher the sleep pressure the easier it is to fall asleep and, ideally, the better your sleep becomes.

Cara did emphasize that as far as we know, it's only a short term strategy. either we haven't done enough studies or we haven't figured out how to apply it to a longer term solution.

2). Light therapy

i was already somewhat aware of this but not to the extent that Cara explained.

the trick here is to force yourself out of bed (if you're able) and sit outside. preferably on sunny days. she said this even works if you end up falling asleep outside anyway, you're still absorbing sunlight.

there's no immediate change, as it does take a few days or more to notice any improvements (this checks out, as i am still drowsy as fuck) but doing this daily or semi-daily gradually convinces the body and brain to be awake earlier.

it's one of those things that a lot of disabled folk like me, especially those with fucked up sleep, would hear and get annoyed with, because we've tried so many different strategies that have each failed one way or another. and hearing "go outside" just reminds me of my mother and every yoga enthusiast insisting on all natural medicine, which understandably raises my metaphorical hackles.

but Cara, again, is the smartest person i know. i'm much more willing to take the advice of a neuropsychiatrist over a yoga mom, despite them actually agreeing on something.

and also? i do miss the Sun, quite terribly.

so if, by sometime next week, i'm magically able to wake up earlier with less struggle, i will let y'all know. i'm gonna be cranky about it, especially if it actually WORKS, but as the neighborhood mascot of Sleep Deprivation i think i'm a pretty good indicator if something like this is legit or not.

｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you to both @oh-no-another-idea and @talesofsorrowandofruin for tagging me. Combining this into one giant word finding exercise.

My words from @oh-no-another-idea were sunshine, low, dusk, yellow, & chair.

My words from @talesofsorrowandofruin were cat, clash, crumble, clutter, & creak.

Passing the tag on to @thewriterghost, @affectionatemeconopsis, @blind-the-winds, @theprissythumbelina, @writingpotato07, and the usual open tag for anyone else who wishes to join in.

Since I'm doubling this up, instead of five set words, how about picking five (or more) from the following list:

delay, block, lock, rest, look, reach, vent, stand, rain, & drop

Sunshine: The Archivist's Journal, Day 120

I tried delaying my leaving this morning, but the rain kept going anyway.  At least I remembered to bring the cloak this time.  Had to sacrifice a towel to keep the rest of the laundry and changes of clothes for the next week dry though.  

It certainly could have been worse I suppose, for it was really only a light shower.  The kind where it’s paradoxically bright enough out where you can see the sunshine reflected off the raindrops and you come out the other side of it more damp than wet.  Honestly, between the gleam of the droplets, the patter on the broad leaves, and the soft tapping on my shoulders I might have actually enjoyed the walk into the Village this morning if it weren’t for trying to carry an unwieldy load of laundry the whole way.

Low: Empty Names Side Story - There Are No Dogs At The Dog Park

With the woman no longer blocking her view, Sarah can see just how obviously she’s no longer at the same bus stop she sat down at.  Behind the woman - “Eris” and “Volunteer”  the nametag sticker on her shirt reads - is a long, low concrete building with grass growing on the roof and adorned with an emblem above its door depicting the stylized red outline of a howling wolf overlaid on top of a blue moon with the letters NALSA in white.  The same emblem is replicated on the volunteer’s t-shirt with “North American Lycanthrope Sanctuary Association” in smaller print around it.  In any other direction is nothing but empty scrub-covered prairie as far as the eye can see, broken only by the faint outline of dirt road the bus stop is situated on and the tall, inward-curving chain link fence extending out from either side of the building.

Dusk: The Archivist's Journal, Day 8

Last night was… nice.  After locking up the archive for the evening I wandered the Village streets for a time looking for the home I’d been invited to dinner at.  Fortunately James had given me directions before we parted, saying it was towards the waterfront so I only got lost once on the way.  Still, it was just past dark when I arrived.  It’s an oddly festive sight, these Village streets at night.  The rooftops, awnings, and doors are colorful enough by day, but once the sun goes down and dusk mutes their hues the villagers uncover the crystals on their lamps and a veritable rainbow spills from the windows to paint the white walls of the winding rows.

The crystals used to light the archives (from which stock I’ve been lighting my own home) are all a near-uniform blue-white, neutral and good for reading by.  The color choices for lighting people’s homes however are more varied, although how much was personal preference of the residents, versus differing availability of crystal colors, versus some manner of social indicator, I’m not yet certain.  Blues, greens, and magentas seem to be the most common although warmer yellows and oranges are not uncommon.

Yellow: Empty Names - 4 - Prince In Gold

Sullivan examines the riesling resting in its glass on the table before him.  He’d always thought white wines were misnamed.  Yellow, or even better, gold, would be a far more fitting description.  Alas, he can no better change that ill-fitting naming convention than he can get drunk off the beverage before him, as much as he’d like to do both right now.  Either one would make this reunion easier.  

But since buying up vineyards and restaurants just to change the terminology on menus would be a waste of resources and taking a drink before his friend arrives would be poor form, he contents himself with leaning back into the richly upholstered chair and gazing into the chandelier above while he listens to the music from the band behind him.  It is a lovely little piece; a sonata that some two-centuries dead Frenchman left unfinished until the restaurant’s owner conjured up his ghost to complete it.

Chair: Empty Names - 6 - Background Checks

For all its gothic gloom during the night, Bridgewood Manor is surprisingly well-lit during the day.  Mostly this is due to Carnette having installed large windows looking out onto alien landscapes in most of the rooms and halls not directly connected to the building’s outer shell as a flex on visitors, but - much like her - that is quite literally neither here nor there at the moment.  No, Sullivan’s gaze is set on his laptop.  The vista behind him is only worthy of his attention insofar as it’s creating an annoying glare on his screen, and even that he’s pointedly ignoring.  To move from his overstuffed chair to a seat with less glare would be letting the window win, and he’s not about to concede to an inanimate object in a contest of wills.  

Cat: A Dream About Gifts

There are cats on the train that serve some sort of specific purpose.  The nature of that purpose is a matter of debate amongst passengers.

Just before reaching the town in the North, the train passes through a tunnel with the massive corpse of an angel hanging over the mouth of the tunnel, chained and nailed to the mountain.  This always upsets some of the cats, especially on the rare occasions the train brushes against the divinely tattered flesh.  

Clash Conflict: The Archivist's Journal, Day 39

It was Vernon who broke the silence several minutes later, venting about how he feared that he’d handled the situation with the brothers poorly and that it was his fault their father died without his family nearby.  That if he’d been more decisive maybe things could have been resolved sooner.  And what if the brothers started resenting one another for how things played out?  His job was to help resolve conflicts, but what if he’d just transformed it into a worse one?

Crumble: A Dream About Going Home

I’m standing atop the battlement of a crumbling keep of weathered stone, holding an open book.  The scenery is both familiar and strange.

A party steps out from a copse of trees below.  Their regally-dressed leader calls out to me.  “Pray forgive our trespass, mighty wizard, and refrain from striking us down!”

I close my book and reply “I am just a simple wanderer, passing back through the land of my birth.  You are as welcome here as I.”

Clutter: The Archivist's Journal, Day 152

Well, I took the cowardly route and left a note.

It didn’t so much stop raining as slow to a light drizzle, but I took that as good enough, waited for Cass to leave after cleanup (even with the children cleaning up after themselves they’re not perfect, and there’s still my own clutter to take care of) I quickly penned an invitation (“quickly” after twenty minutes of second-guessing myself on whether or not to even do it), threw on my cloak, pulled up the hood, and stepped outside.

Creak: The Archivist's Journal, Day 47

And when it put down that log I gained an inkling of why the villagers call it a god and not simply a giant or another spirit.  For rather than simply dropping the log or setting it down lengthwise it planted the former tree trunk upright in the ground.  As the being pressed the log further into the earth I could hear the sounds of strained wood creaking and groaning and mounds of dirt began radiating out from it as if displaced by rapidly growing roots.  A few moments later the Wandering God stepped back as if to gaze upon its handiwork and then turned its head to look at us.

[invictarre-archive]

@onlyheartaches asked: Describe me! Guzma / description meme

It's nice, you think, watching how your team have grown so close to him. Though you've been forbidden to move from underneath this tree - a necessary demand, lest you find yourself wandering too far and needing to be retrieved from the ocean once more - you've at least got a good view of the scene in front of you.

You watch as Amias Baby-Doll Eyeses an unfortunate passer by, swindling them out of their freshly made bagel and sprinting straight back to Golisopod to share his ill-gotten gains. They tear it apart and start munching immediately, scarfing their halves down before the stolen bagel can be noticed and taken away.

Marshy is sitting on the floor, unaware of the thievery happening just behind him, his flipper clutching tight to Guzma's hand. With his other one, he's drawing smiley faces in the dirt, some of them with a squiggle on top that's (probably) supposed to be Guzma's hair.

(He's a Quagsire, not an artist.)

Boonadette watches with growing interest, finally sitting herself on the ground right alongside Marshy and drawing a face of her own. Her stubby Gengar fingers aren't the best tool for this, but it's... something! She flaps her arms, patting insistently at the hand-flipper joining until her masterpiece is noticed and praised, and she gives a joyful cackle in response.

Rotom floats next to you, a focused frown on its tiny face as it tries hard to vocalise its new word.

Rrrrrrrow, it says.

That's what you do with a boat, you reply. Sound it out: BRRR-O. Brr, like broom. Oh, like-

Boom! Boom boom! Essssssplosion!

You laugh. Close, buddy. Keep trying, you'll get there.

A sudden shout catches your attention, and- Yeah, there it is. Amias and Golisopod must not have inhaled the bagel fast enough, because Guzma's finally caught them out. The pokemon exchange looks before chewing faster. Guzma catches your eye, throws up his arms in a "are you seeing this, Leon??" shrug. You give him one of your own: a helpless "what can you do?" response.

As he turns back to Marshy, taking up his flipper once more and letting Boonadette tug his other arm around her, you rest your chin on your knees and just... Look. You're not so dissimilar, when you really get down to it, as much the same person as you are different. You've grown alongside each other, have been doing so for a long time now, and you've learned many things along the way.

For example, you've learned to stay on his left when walking through the tall grasses, dealing with any attacks that come from that direction.

You've learned that you both have your vulnerabilities, old wounds that never quite managed to heal over. You've learned what a bad day looks like, those times when the hurts of the past and fears for the future circle in his head like Mandibuzz.

You've learned when it's something you can help with.

You've learned when it's time to call for Plumeria or Nanu.

You've learned that he hopes to finds happiness in Sinnoh. You hope for that, too. It's been mentioned more frequently as of late, making you wonder if the moving date is approaching at last, and you firmly believe a change of scenery will do him a world of good. The parallel of the situation isn't lost on you, either: You know better than anyone just how wonderful a move like this can be.

He's told you all about the marshlands of Pastoria and the flower fields of Floaroma. You, in return, shared all you know about Almia, the ranger region located barely a stone's throw away from Pal Park. They're always in need of volunteers, you say, 'specially those that know the more uncommon pokemon types. You ever find yourself with a day or two to spare, I know of some Combee hives that'd love some extra keepers.

But there's something he's not saying. You can feel it, sometimes, thickening the air like a building storm. Enough of his past has been shared with you that you're pretty sure you already have a pretty good idea of what (who) is bothering him, and you have to trap your rightful fury behind your teeth every time that bastard crosses your mind.

There aren't many people you hate.

You despise Guzmania Sr.

Guzma is your family - your brother - and you'll defend him as fiercely as you would any other loved one. You'll tear off the hand that dares strike him, if that's what it takes to get this nightmare to end.

He deserves a happy ending.

[pathos-p]

"Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game" but i got tagged in it so i am gonna answer all of them 'cause theyre fun

questions by @/i-like-eyes

thanks for the tag @king-chook!! ^^

1. Art programs you have but don't use

i thiiink i have a license for clip studio paint that came with my old wacom tablet but i never rly used it. also used to have krita installed for the longest time but just always felt off to me idk why. don't currently have it installed anymore tho

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

to their right is a bit easier i think. not smth i consciously notice, mostly i'm just thinking abt when im doodling on the margins of stuff they usually are looking to the left of the page

3. What ideas come from when you were little

uhhh idk tbh, i dont think much of my art draws from that

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

cityscapes !!! i love cities they r so pretty and cool looking but goddamn theyre so hard to draw

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

80-20? i post everything that i finish. basically the only stuff that doesnt get posted is sketches i give up on

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

hmmmm not that i can think of rn...

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

watercolour !! i've tried it a few times and Struggled but i love seeing ppl's work in it

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

so many animatics ..................... also many comic ideas ..................... i get so many ideas that i just never start on or start and only do a little before losing the hyperfocus/fixation and just Cannot continue them. it sucks

9. What are your file name conventions

usually the character name, maybe a bit of description of what theyre doing... idk not much of a convention to it

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

hmm i like jackets :)

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

yes, usually music. sometimes random youtube videos like stream highlights or video essays.

12. Easiest part of body to draw

uhhh hair? maybe idk. hard question bc it varied a lot depending on what kinda style and just. sometimes smth is hard in a particular drawing then easy later idk

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

i cant think of anything i will edit it in if i think of anyone

14. Any favorite motifs

in my drawings i dont feel like i use any much. mostly i pull motifs from whatever im doing fanart of lol. in music, i like religious motifs (but not like. ones abt christ or bible stories, rather heaven, hell, god/divinity, angels)

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

at home pretty much exclusively. in bed lol

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

idk i feel like the stuff im better at is the stuff i like bc i practice it more for fun lol

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

not usually

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken

surprisingly little. mostly bc i do more digital art lol

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

weapons and nature. especially ice for nature

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

i cant think of anything ill add it if i do

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

i love rougher styles, like ones with a lot of visible brushstrokes and bold lines and shit. so cool. idk how to make it look good lol i dont have the confidence in my lines for it

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

none... probably i should change that

23. Do you use different layer modes

yeah, often i use a multiple layer for shading then a variety to colour adjust at the end

24. Do your references include stock images

sometimes

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

cant think of any

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

there was this poem i wrote about capitalism and how shit it is and someone thought it was abt interpersonal relationships/smth along the lines of a breakup. i rly didnt mind it tho i thought it was cool bc the emotion was not far off, the sense of betrayal and abandonment. just a very very different subject

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

no lol

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

i ran a zine (digital only) for the dimension 20 zine jam! and also made art+writing for others in that :D also was part of a polygon yt fanzine a while back

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

spider-man (not the MCU, mostly tasm and a few of the comics)

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

IS IT BAD TO SAY A PIECE THAT GOT QUITE A BIT OF POSITIVE ATTENTION ?? maybe

i rly like the cj comic i did i am genuinely so goddamn happy with the result so . even tho it did very well by the standards for the fandom its for and my current follower base it is underrated

alternatively this one https://www.tumblr.com/pathos-p/704380503765221377/tridential-sovereignty?source=share bc it didnt get all that much attention on any social media site but i think its cool !!

(mostly only using recent ones bc i dont wanna dig back further esp onto my old twt acct, too much work lol)