#it'll be a lot easier if people get used to the word of mouth thing

[crunchworldsupreme]

Hello, please send me the forums and online resources you've used. I want to make a big list.

Criteria: You've found it helpful at some point. It's relatively specialized. Any category. "Online resource" is purposely vague. Magazines, wikis, blogs, etc. They don't have to be obscure.

[pochipop]

＃FNAF MOVIE !! ♡ — IT'LL BE ALRIGHT (MIKE SCHMIDT X READER).

#. synopsis! — mike is used to walking on eggshells, just waiting for another tragedy, and you really don’t want to be just another person who's let him down.

#. characters! — mike schmidt .

#. warnings! — vague references to past traumatic events (canon compliant) , references to a verbal argument .

#. word count! — 1.8k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Mike is used to people leaving. They come and they go like stray cats who've found someone better to nab food off of, —leaving him with more ghosts in his life than he'd care to admit. At least these ones are metaphorical and melodramatic, though. His saving grace has been the fact that he chooses wisely who to introduce Abby to, just in case. She's been through enough, and she's so young that the absence of anyone would be duly noted. Not that it isn't when it comes to himself, it's just. . . He's learned how to live with loss. Maybe not effectively, but he does it, and for right now, that's probably as good as it's getting.

He's got more pressing matters to attend to. He always does. That's what he argued about with you, —what he fought tooth and nail to defend, even when you backed off. At the end of it, he knew he'd gone too far for no real reason. He wasn't arguing with you at that point, he was arguing with all the people that have left him starved for their affections and their care. The words he said to you were so far beyond your scope that it was almost pathetic to think about all the bullshit he unloaded on you like it was somehow your job to fix it, even when he knew it wasn't. So really, it's no wonder he's adding you to that list of people who've walked away.

For once, he truly deserved it. 

And now he's got to explain this to Abby. Because she likes you almost as much as he does, —almost being the operative word there. Mike sucks at a lot of things, and showing you he cares tends to be one of them, but he loves in his own ways. . . And now, he fears he'll have to do it from afar.

He sort of wishes Abby was the kind of kid he could bribe with ice cream for breakfast to break bad news to. It'd be easier to scoop her some off-brand Neopolitan and tell her she'd never see you again if that would help soften the blow. But it won't, and he knows that. He knows her too well to even try.

Still, he finds himself putting chocolate chips in her pancakes that morning in spite of himself.

When he places the plate in front of her, she narrows her eyes, as if to ask him what he's done so wrong. . . Asking what he's offering silent apologies for in the form of sweet pockets stolen away inside her favorite breakfast food. He opens the fridge in search of orange juice just to avoid her gaze.

Before she can even take a bite, he opens his mouth.

"Listen, Abby—"

She looks up at him with those big, doe eyes, and he probably would have cut himself off anyway if not for the knock on the front door. Mike mumbles for her to hold that thought, then goes to check who's outside.

And there you stand a little awkwardly on his doorstep, a brand new bottle of orange juice in your hand. Once again, it's like you've read his mind, and he's as sick of it as he is thankful for it, especially right now. Still, he can't turn you away.

"Morning," you say, almost hesitantly. "I brought juice. . ."

He tries to think of something to say, but hears the quick pitter-patter of Abby's feet fastly approaching. She calls your name so happily, and you smile at her.

"Good morning to you too," you laugh, returning the hug she gives you with no hesitation.

Mike just stares, as if he can't believe you're even here right now. If you're just here to grab the items of yours strewn about his house, he feels like the least you could have done was wait until Abby was asleep or something.

"Can I have some?" Abby asks, pointing to the orange juice in your hand.

"Yeah, that's what it's for," you smile, handing the bottle to her.

She scurries off to the kitchen to pour herself a glass.

"Mike," you say softly now that she's out of earshot, "can we—"

"I'll get your stuff together," he cuts you off.

Your jaw slacks.

"What?" Is the only thing you can manage to muster up in response.

"You could've done this at a different time," he snaps, trying to keep quiet so Abby doesn't hear. "It's gonna be ten times harder on her now for me to explain why you're not coming back."

You stare at him, trying not to cry. Out of all the things you expected to happen this morning, such a drastic change of heart on his part wasn't one of them.

"You. . . You're breaking up with me?" You question.

He pauses, a lot of the frustration dissipating from his features, replaced by genuine confusion.

"Didn't you already break up with me?" He asks.

Your brows knit together quizzically. 

"No? What are you even talking about, I never said I wanted to break up with you," you point out.

Sure, you didn’t say it. But most of the others had never said it either. It was like flipping a lightswitch. One minute they were there, and the next they weren’t. That's why he'd gotten so good at keeping his relationships at a distance, and he'd taken the biggest leap of faith in introducing you to his sister.

"Yesterday evening?" He says, but it sounds more like a question.

"We had an argument," you acknowledge. "It was stupid, and you hurt my feelings. I'm sure I hurt yours too. That doesn't mean I want us to be over."

Mike stares at you like he's not sure what to say, because he isn't. He's not used to someone caring enough to fight for him, and for what festers between himself and someone else. He's learned to let go before the thread pulls too tight, —before it wraps around his throat and slices through every defense he's built up for the sake of protecting himself, his heart, and the little girl that depends on him.

"Mike," you say softly, almost cautiously. "I care about you. One bad night doesn't change that. . . Not for me."

God, it was stupid. It was so stupid. You weren't even mad at him specifically, and you're fairly certain he wasn't really angry with you in particular either. Long days on both your parts collided like a warm front to a cold one, and the things both of you said in the wake of it were uttered through venom and gritted teeth. Sweeping generalizations, a lot of rolling eyes, some tears that were more about frustration than they were anything else. . . But you still loved him at the end of it, even as you found yourself walking home alone.

In fact, that walk was particularly sobering. The crisp chill of the autumn evening was enough to convince you that you'd rather be back at his place where he keeps an extra toothbrush for you in the bathroom and emptied out a drawer just so you could have a place to store some clothes. The sleep you got in the night that followed was shallow at best, restless enough to leave faint bags beneath your eyes by morning, and you were determined to make up any excuse in the book just to swing by.

So you went out and got some orange juice, knowing there wasn't any left in the fridge, and you stood outside his door for a while, working yourself up just to knock. You thought about all the things you'd need to apologize for, and you were ready to push aside your ego if it meant Mike could understand just how much you care, even when you're upset.

He swallows, just to give himself something to do while he prolongs his own response, because he's just not sure what to say. Somehow, a part of him is whispering that this would be easier if you just didn't give a fuck. . . If last evening was the end, and he could go back to finding comfort in silence again.

That's how it's always been. Someone leaves, and he copes, and then he files them away with the rest. But here you are, and Mike knows he can't bring himself to put you in with the others.

"Mike, I'm—"

"No, I am," he breathes, reaching forward to pull you into his arms. "I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry that I suck at being a boyfriend, but I don't know what I'm doing and all I can tell you is that I'm trying."

He feels the tension meld away from you, and it's then, before you even open your mouth to reply, that he starts to think everything is how it should be.

"You don't suck at it," you answer lightly. "I know you're trying, and that's genuinely all I could ask for, and I'm sorry about yesterday evening. I was in a bad mood, and I took it out on you, and that wasn't right."

"We both took shit out on each other," he corrects, ready and willing to share the blame.

"True enough," you acknowledge with a weary smile, finally pulling away from his embrace.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "When things go wrong, I. . . I've just learned how to slam on the breaks. If I stop things before they feel like they'll suffocate me, I can avoid them. But I love you, and I know I don't want to avoid that."

"This isn't a one way street," you remind him. "Relationships are hard, and sometimes things happen in a way that they shouldn't, but I'm here for you, and I want to be here for you. . . It's not contractual. One bad night doesn't take away all the times you've made me feel like the happiest person on the face of the planet, Mike."

He sniffles a little, then lets out a relieved sigh.

"Are you hungry?" He asks. "I can make you some pancakes. Chocolate chip."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Chocolate chip? Are you apologizing to Abby for something?"

God, a part of him hates that he's so obvious, but another part loves that you know him so well. It makes him feel even stupider for just assuming that you'd be willing to throw in the towel after one rough night.

"No, not really," he shakes his head. (Not anymore, at least.)

Mike glances toward the kitchen, just to make sure Abby's still preoccupied with her breakfast, then steals a quick kiss from your lips.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

You smile.

"Me too."

"And I love you," he adds.

Your smile widens.

"I love you too. Promise."

With that, he pulls you to the kitchen, and you sit down beside Abby at the table. She tells you that when breakfast is done with, she'd like to show you some new drawings she's done, and you nod, telling her you're excited to see them. And you are.

Mike stands at the stovetop, his back to the both of you, not bothering to bite back his grin. 

He feels his foot ease off the break.

[solarcitymelodies]

You said you wanted to talk about ventriloquism?

Tell me more?

It took me so long to get to this I'm so sorry 😭 low on spoons, you know how it is

But yes, I LOVE ventriloquism, and I talk about it semi frequently here in my corner of the internet ... I'm not even sure where to start just cuz there's SO much, but this post I made a bit ago with a focus on our bonds with our puppets is a good start :)

Other than that, I've left quite a lengthy beginners guide under the cut, so I hope you enjoy!

So, here's where we start. This here:

Is a headless Jerry Mahoney. I show you this mildly uncomfortable image so you can see the most important piece of equipment in ventriloquism: the headstick! Or control stick, some people call it that too. This has a bunch of different levers on it that control different parts of the face, but more rudimentary ones will just have one lever for the mouth. Which is really all you need honestly. (Anything else costs a pretty penny. Like, an especially pretty one.) The lever being pulled on Jerry here is the only important one, and that's the one that controls his mouth.

You can see a bunch of those controls here:

This isn't the only kind of ventriloquist dummy, but it's definitely the most well known iteration. There's been a huge rise in felt puppets recently, and there's also been pull-string ones around for quite a while (which are far less intricately built than other dummies, but pretty sweet for beginners. I only own string-pulls and i love them very much. ♡)

As for actually doing ventriloquism, there's a few tips I have that I tell anyone interested.

1. Ventriloquism is easy. It is so easy. It's learning how to make it convincing that's hard!

2. And in that same vein, it doesn't matter that much how convincing you are as long as you and the audience are having fun! I always get tired of people treating what's basically playing with dolls but ✨️fancy✨️ like an Olympic sport lol.

3. Letter substitutes are whatever you can get away with. Cut corners. Change your vocabulary. Whatever works to make yourself sound more natural is what you should be doing! Remember, it's not cheating if it works.

4. If you aren't a little weird about the puppets please consider getting weirder. It is a tradition we hold very dear to us.

Now, as far as the basics go-- like I said, it's not too terribly difficult.

First and foremost, there's a certain "standing position" your mouth should rest in, which sounds very silly but it's true. Your lips should be slightly parted, enough to let air out but not enough to be super noticeable. You can't actually talk with your mouth fully closed, but it should look closed from a distance. This is one of our tricks of illusion >:3

Your tongue should always be behind your teeth, usually resting against them a bit in my experience. Your teeth are going to be acting as your new lips. That sounds insane but it'll make sense the more you do it. When you'd usually use your lips to pronounce a word, you use your teeth. ALWAYS keep your teeth resting in a mostly closed position!! This is so people don't see your tongue moving!! Learned this the hard way lol.

There are a few letters you have to watch out for: B, F, M, P, V, and W. Some of these are easier for other people and some are harder, but these are the well known ones, plus ones I have trouble with (granted I do have speech issues as is, sooo... take with a grain of salt?)

These letters are evil and cursed and don't like to be pronounced without moving your lips, which is where we introduce letter substitutes. Generally,

B = D (or G)

F = more of an S sound, like a hiss

M = N

P = T

V = a sound closer to Z

W turns into the wretched "duddayoo." I do not like this one.

I'm not that great at explaining the basics to be honest, but there's lot of great tutorial videos out there, I'd recommending doing s little dive into those if you're genuinely interested. For now here's one from Darci Lynne because I love her.

The best thing to do though, if you dont want to do the actual acting thing? Get active in the community anyways. Get your friends into it. Talk about it! Post about it! Ventriloquism has been, famously, dying as far as most people are concerned for a long while now, and we really need younger people to step up and keep this art alive. Just appreciating it and supporting from the sidelines is a huge help. As much of a loser as this makes me sound, please for the love of God make ventriloquism look cool. It sounds goofy but we really do genuinely need it.

As a final note:

Ventriloquism at its core, I believe, at least, shouldn't be competitive. There are a lot of people in the community that just take it way too seriously and frankly, it is so lame. Ventriloquism should be fun. It's odd and it's kooky and it should be accessible to everyone no matter how good they are at keeping their lips still. A lot of the best ventriloquists famously could not keep their mouths shut. And I mean that as literally as possible. They were still beloved by many and are greatly cherished figures in our community.

If you ever doubt yourself, remember: Lambchop was only a sock before Shari Lewis made her come to life. You don't need the best materials, or the best technique; all you need is passion and a good routine.

[starseneyes]

Hi! I'm currently re-reading some of your S5 Chenford metas along with my rewatch and wanted to ask if you could elaborate on something from the one for 5x08&5x09. When Tim says "You deserve someone who's worth the effort", you write that "they both know what he meant" and the he's putting himself out there. I think I kind of get it but I don't think I've ever fully gotten the whole meaning behind that particular line in that scene. Maybe you can shed some more light on this for me and share your thoughts if you have the time, it's been putting me on edge for days now, haha.

I appreciate all the work that must go into writing these metas, so thank you so much for sharing them with us. I very much love reading them!

OOoh, this is a fun one because there is a lot to unpack, and I've had more time to sit on it, so my view has shifted a bit from the initial write-up.

First off, thank you so much for reading and for sending this message. I appreciate it more than you know.

So, I'm just a wayward fan offering my thoughts, right? So, please take it all with a grain of salt.

I don't think that Lucy and Tim are on the same page in that scene.

Lucy is already starting to heavily question her relationship with Chris. The more Chris pushes and pushes and pushes on this house thing, the more she's recoiling.

Tim (of all people) being the one to talk this through with her is tough enough, because she has feelings for him that she's shoved deep down. And we all know Tim has feelings for Lucy, but thinks there's not a chance for them.

He tells her that she deserves someone who is worth the effort.

For Tim, he's trying to help her see her worth. He doesn't think he has a chance with her, so this isn't for him. He sees that Lucy has been coasting in this relationship, avoiding conflict, and that's not her. She's hiding who she is because this is safe, and it's easy, and it's void of reality.

Real relationships have conflict. You can't refine anything if you're always riding parallel, too afraid of disagreeing or arguing because that's all it takes for the veneer to crack.

He tells her that she deserves someone who is worth the effort, because real relationships take work. My husband and I butt heads often enough, but we work through it, together, because we are worth the effort.

Lucy is in a conflict-free relationship not because she and Chris never disagree, but because she just lets it go rather than arguing. To avoid fighting, she's avoiding conflict. And that's never going to work for Lucy Chen long-term.

I have seen "no conflict" relationships, and all of the ones I've seen in my friends/family are completely unhealthy. Each masking their true needs because they don't want to fight. Avoiding conflict because it's easier than having a hard discussion. They don't communicate. They don't work through issues. They coast... unhappy... but safe.

Tim wants more for Lucy. He wants her to be with someone who is worth the effort... someone who is worth going through the tough stuff with.

Because when you go through tough stuff, and you butt heads, and you compromise, and you have to work through—you have a healthier, stronger, more passionate relationship.

That's what Tim wants for Lucy. And though he says the line selflessly, once he's holding her gaze and the words leave his mouth, I think he can't help but think of all the effort she's put in for him.

And it's not that he thinks he has a chance... but that he realizes if she'll do all that for me, who she doesn't even want to be with, imagine what it'll be like for her with someone who's worth it.

But he wants to be that person.

So, I revise my original thoughts, a little, here. Because, he's not saying, "I'm the guy". He wishes he was the one who was worth it. Because they both know the effort she puts in when she truly gives a damn.

The moment he mentions "effort", both of their minds go to the effort she's put into him.

- Lucy didn't have to chase him down when Isabel was asking him to cross the line. - Lucy didn't have to stay all night at the Quarantine House. - Lucy didn't have to record all those books-on-tape. - Lucy didn't have to help him investigate his own heart regarding racism. - Lucy didn't have to help him process through some of his childhood abuse and reconnect with his sister.

But she did. Lucy chose to do things that inconvenienced her, that often resulted in them butting heads, that made for uncomfortable moments. Because Tim is worth the effort.

It's worth it to risk pissing him off and having an argument. It's worth it to risk his anger flaring and his defense mechanisms snapping into place.

And that is where I think they are both on the same page. They're both thinking about them.

And with what Tim said, Lucy's mind is reeling, because he is the one she's put the effort in for, long before romantic thoughts entered her brain.

Lucy always puts in the effort for the people she cares about. Tim does the same. Look at everything he's done for Angela, trying to help Mack, looking out for Rex. Lucy taking in Jackson and Tamara.

Romantic relationships need effort. They need two people who are willing to work through their issues rather than work around them.

Right now, Lucy's in a relationship where she and her work-in-progress aren't working through anything. They're not building anything because they're avoiding conflict. That's not sustainable.

My husband and I have been through the wringer in our relationship. But, it was always worth it. Because the more we unpacked why we were upset and frustrated, the more we peeled back layers of trauma and abuse that we were carrying without realizing.

Now, I'm not saying it should be all fighting, all the time. Not at all. Verbal and Emotional abuse are still abuse.

But, if there's never any conflict in a relationship, that can be a sign of a problem. Because there's no way that two people are perfectly aligned 100% of the time. We have to talk it out. We have to be willing to have hard discussions. We have to deal with disagreeing and butting heads.

Because, at the end of the day, we'll have worked through together. And getting to the other side stronger? Yeah, that's always worth the effort.

I hope that helps clarify my wild thoughts on this one. Thank you ever so much for the message and for reading! I hope you have a wonderful week.

[daemonoferror]

Ouuhuhou Scarlet Hollow fanfic, that sounds so good! If it’d be fun for you I’d suggest a little reese fix it moment , like hurt comfort fluff in his basement before stuff goes down! If not that’s all chill too ^^

I'm so sorry this took me like, a month to write- I still hope you like it!

It'll be Okay

Of all the terrible things that have happened this week, being barricaded in a basement against your will isn't the worst. It’s easier to cope with when you tell yourself you're just spending time with Reese. Except he's the reason you're trapped, and he's not the most reassuring person right now. He’s completely restless and jittery. That kind of unhinged, uncontrollable excitement you see people act in movies. He pretends to be okay, but he’s clearly not. He’s just witnessed a betrayal very few have to handle, and no matter how excited for the future he is, the hurt that’s happening now will take a long time to heal.

You’re not very interested in the movie you’re watching. Instead you’re watching him. His wide eyes as he rambles about the aspects of the movie. His fidgeting hands and subconscious foot tapping. His demeanor could seem impatient or annoyed, regardless of the big grin he wears. The movie isn’t fast paced enough to keep up with him. When he interrupts again with a factoid about a scene you haven’t watched yet, you turn the TV off. “A movie might be too much for you right now, man.” You answer his disappointed, questioning look. “Are you feeling okay?

"Yeah, I feel fine- great, actually! My body must be adjusting without the poison. I'm getting better, healthier! I'm doing great!" Reese responds, his words rushed. The reasoning doesn't sit well with you. The poison was flushed out within hours of not taking it? A deadly poison he's been fed for at least a decade? The body doesn't work that fast.

You frown, "Are you sure you're not like, upset? This is a lot to process, Reese, maybe you need to talk about it-”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about!” Reese interrupts you, "The doc has been poisoning me for the past decade, and I've practically been a prisoner down here for the same amount of time." He says, and his smile falters a bit. His bouncing leg is nearly vibrating, he stands up and starts quickly pacing around his room to try to calm down.

You want to drop it, but there’s this sinking feeling, something telling you there’s something wrong here, more than you know. "I just. . . I feel like your mom had to have a reason. Nothing in Scarlet Hollow seems this transparent." You’re a little meek to say it while Reese is doing so poorly. He does tense at your words, for only a moment. From where you're seated, his ears look pointier, his nails longer before he balls his hands into fists. 

"You don't have to defend her. And don’t call her that. She lost that right." Reese strains to control his anger, "I don't care what her reasons are, it doesn't change anything." He paces faster, glaring at the ground. The changes you could've blamed on a trick of the light or mind are obvious now, and very real.

“Reese?” You slowly stand up and reach out to him. “Are you-”

“Yes! I mean no- I’m-. . .I’m just mad.” He growls, and brings a hand up to hold his head. He looks taller, his skin a sort of gray color. "Everything I used to blame on my illness was really just because of her. I had to drop out of school because of her. I couldn't go out or hang out with my friends because of her. I thought I could die any day because of her." Each word is spoken with more unearthed resentment until he’s nearly yelling. All of these little changes start to come together to make him look nothing like the reese you know. His sweater tears as his shoulder widen and arms grow. His face droops like molded clay, sharp teeth poking out of his mouth. "And I'm still just trapped in her basement, waiting on her to leave. Why should I wait on her any longer? Why does she get to live when she's stolen my life from me?" His anger boils over to a snapping point. It feels like the world freezes around him as the plan takes shape, staring at the door with wide eyes and new, morbid motivation. "Stay here. I'll be right back." His voice is lower, malice. The monster treks towards the stairs, and you're mortified.

 “Reese- Reese please wait-” Your voice trembles witnessing the scene in front of you. The paintings come to life, bubbling under the surface and reaching out for purchase in this world. You try to step towards him, but you can’t move. Looking down, painted hands seep from his art to hold your feet in place. You struggle against it as Reese ignores your pleas.

“This has to be done.” He ensures. He only climbs a few steps before your struggle with the paint ends, squashing it under your shoes with a splat. You hardly think before you collide into him in an embrace. Maybe it was meant more to restrain him- a fruitless attempt against his new beastly size- but it works as a sign of affection that throws him off. He stumbles a bit, and seems to shrink ever so slightly in your arms. It leaves him speechless, frozen in place, with his long arms raised to not touch you. 

When you feel him shaking above him, you immediately think you did something wrong- hurt him or angered him- and take it as a sign to step away from him. His breathing is heavy and short, his snout scrunched up and nostrils flaring. His face is twisted in pain. Agonized and conflicted with a far off gaze. His eyes dart to look down at you, the glow in them dims, soft and glossy. One hand reaches out for you, the claws graze your arm before he pauses, wide eyes taking in the look of his monstrous appearance for the first time. "Oh... I'm-... I'm sorry-" His voice is less than a whimper as he pushes past you, stumbling down the stairs with unfamiliar legs. 

"It's okay-" You quickly say, following his path until he collapses to the floor with his back to you. "I'm alright." You ensure your voice is soft, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. 

He hides his face as well as he can in his hands, but it is clear when you hear a sob that he’s crying. "Why-" He starts, so many emotions built behind the one word. There's hundreds of things he could ask, questions neither of you have the answer to. "Why would she do this? What did I do? What's… What's wrong with me?" He asks,

"There isn't anything wrong with you. This isn't your fault." You tell him the only thing you're (mostly) confident in. 

"Bullshit." He scoffs, and his ears twist down. He finally turns to you and the anger simmers away again. "I was going to kill her. I could've hurt you." 

"But I'm fine! Not a scratch on me." You reassure him, sitting down next to him. He flinches a bit when you wrap an arm around his shoulder, removing it to not make him uncomfortable. "Look. I've only known you for like, two days. But I know that you're sweet and kind. I trust that you would never hurt me." 

He looks at you, and there's this tiny voice that tells him he could easily crush you, and he feels nauseous. "I don't like this." He sighs in defeat, hugging his arms across his torso. That voice tells him he's lying- like a constant need to be at odds with himself. "I guess… I do though? It's easier to breathe. I just don't-" When he looks into your eyes, he's at a loss for words again. "I don't..." He thinks he'll get lost in them, the nagging thoughts quieting like he's been riddled with stage fright. "I don't want to do something I'd regret." He finally pieces together. "I don't want to be a monster."

You grin softly and take his hand. "You're not a monster. You're Reese. You're human." You tell him, sure in your words. He uses his free hand to wipe away tears that were beginning to form. Finally his features start to shrink into something just more human as he tries to return the smile. A quiet sob bubbles up and he uses all his strength to not start weeping. He awkwardly pulls you into a hug, your face pressed against his chest. He holds you tight, as silent tears roll down his cheeks. 

"Thank you." He says with a sniffle after minutes of staying like this, rubbing circles into his back. He holds onto you like a lifeline, and you're not sure he ever intends on letting go of you.

The moment is ruined when you hear stomping from upstairs, and Doc Kelly yelling for Reese. He tenses and squeezes you tighter, maybe too tight. "Hey, it's okay." You mumble, soothing and softly, and his muscles relax enough for you to pull away. You look up at the ceiling, placing in your mind where the mad doctor could be before facing Reese, "Maybe I could try to talk to her-"

"No." He gasps, and you start to see his features shifting again. "Especially not without me." He spits. 

Your shoulders droop and you sigh. It was a mad idea in the first place. You decide to change the topic, hoping to distract him. "Come on, it's getting late, you've gotta be tired." You use his loose grip on your arm to pull him towards the bed. He's definitely confused; and probably disappointed you're not encouraging the fight, but he lets you drag him away. You lay down first, and scooch as far back as you can, your back pressing against the cold brick wall.

"Are you sure we shouldn't try to leave now? I don't have to hurt her, I could just like- shove her out of the way or something?" Reese shrugs, hesitant to crawl in beside you.

"I'd rather just avoid her instead of risking it. Please, just humor me? We'll get you out of here soon, safely. Just relax for now." 

Reese sighs, "Fine." And lays down beside you. "Do you have a plan then?"

"Take a nap. And at like 2 or 3 am or so we sneak back to the estate." You shrug, scooching towards him to get away from the cold wall.

"What if she doesn't fall asleep?" His voice waivers, imagining the many ways this could end with you hurt.

"We break a window or something? I don't know. At some point she's going to think you simmered down, right?" Maybe it's true your plan isn't great, but even if you're just prolonging the inevitable, it's worth it to be here with him. 

"I'm not sure. I don't remember the last time this happened. If this has happened?" He picks at his nails anxiously, remembering the logs of his "episodes" in the book he found. 

"Well, we'll figure it out. It'll be okay." You assured him.

"Thanks. For being here with me. And for not running away. I'm glad I met you." He says with a sigh, moving to press his forehead against yours.

"I'm glad I met you, too. And I'm happy I'll get to spend more time with you." You lace your fingers with his to hold his hand, closing your eyes, feeling safe next to him. "You still think you'll come home with me?"

"Yeah." He answers without skipping a beat. "What's it like in your town anyways?"

You snort, "Hm, you'll think it's boring. There's no ditchlings, or mine collapses, or vengeful ghost hauntings." You hum, amused, a small smile tugging at your lips as your eyes droop shut. 

"And no one transforming into…" He trails off, but the question is clear.

You hum a negatory. "No one like you. You've got no competition."

It wasn't what he meant when he asked, but your answer made him flush, "Oh… good." 

"But I can't stress this enough though: the cat's a complete asshole. He's terrible, you'll love him." You chuckle, and Reese reciprocates it.

"I've never had a cat, it'll be fun." Reese shrugs confidently.

"Yeah? Then you can clean his litter box. He tries to kick all of it out as soon as you're done, by the way. And when he does go he usually misses. He's a terror." You reiterate. 

"Damn. Maybe he just doesn't like you. I'm sure we'll be best friends though." He teases, and nudges your arm. 

"If he likes you more than me I'm throwing one of you out." You laugh and nudge him back. "I'm kidding."

"You better be! You can't get rid of me that easily." He jokes, comfortable silence falling over the two of you after. "I'm really excited about this. It sounds so nice to just- live and explore the city with you."

"Yeah. Wait till you try all the food you've been robbed of for years." You try not to yawn, "No more plain pasta for you. You're getting the greasiest pizza, richest chocolate cake, soda- whatever you want. I'll even make you anything you want. If you don't get a stomachache in the first week, I've failed you."

Reese laughs, "That all sounds great… more or less."

"It will be." You sigh and mutter after, "I'm just happy to be part of your new life." Your eyes are heavy, yawning again. You want to keep talking but you can't, wrapping your arm around Reese as you fall asleep. 

Sleep doesn't find Reese as easily though. He listens for any noise or indication of trouble. His eyes dart to any movement out the window, jumps at every creak in the floor boards above. But nothing happens. Even the ditchlings don't make their regular visits. He finally relaxes enough just to stare at your sleeping face, and he starts to think things will all be okay.

[ficbrish]

Oh shit it was WIP Wednesday yesterday

[22Jun2023]

This is from a new Fallout 4 fSole Survivor/MacCready wip (because I'm replaying this game and I'm trash). My Sole Survivor is named Renée Kilburn. Here she is:

It'll either be a one-shot or a multi-chapter story that starts after the Kellog memories mission and goes through the Vault 81 quest.

"Vault 111"

[[TW/CW: Grief, dead bodies, blood mention]]

“And this…” Renée said, gesturing to one of the pods, "is Nate.”

“Holy shit,” surprise slipped out of his mouth with a faint puff from the chill, “Is that your dead husband?!”

Something about the sudden wave of shock let those thoughts out loud without his permission. MacCready really should have been prepared for this. He knew what this vault was, knew what it kept inside. He’d seen the cold, dead stares of her neighbors as they passed them, and the open pod she’d emerged from. He should have been able to guess what was across from it.

Still… it was another thing to be brought face-to-face with the corpse you essentially cucked.

Not that it was like that. He never once saw being with Renée as cheating on Lucy.

But… still…

“Yep. It’s Nate!”

The expression on her face was wrong and her voice shook.

“Uh…” he struggled to find the words.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Renée was not fine.

She didn’t explain much on the way over here. Just said, “I need to get a gun,” in a voice with less life than usual.

Then she took off towards the bridge. He followed her.

They didn’t speak on the way over, or up the hill. He tried to ask a question when they reached the peak and the seal, but she interrupted his attempt.

“Stand here and look there.”

He did.

“That’s where I watched the bombs fall. The blast passed right over our heads. Made my hair move.”

MacCready could feel the tight heat against his face. It must have felt like opening an oven too quickly. He didn’t ask her about it though.

The seal began to move down. The creaking steel sounded like shrieks of the dying. Hell, maybe they were! The ghosts of her neighborhood screaming their existence from their frozen graves.

The elevator platform shook as it hit the ground with a clanging thud.

The whole place reeked of fetid rainwater. Thankfully the bodies were on ice, or else the stench would be a lot worse.

They got the gun first, an experimental freeze ray like you’d see in comics.

“Said I’d come back for you,” she’d muttered as the lock fell.

It never unnerved him like this when she talked to things that weren’t people.

MacCready thought they were finally going to head back up after that, but she took him down a different hallway once they were back at the entrance.

“This is where they took us,” was all she said.

MacCready knew what was coming. Saw the pods. Met their stares.

But he still wasn’t prepared for the ice frosting Nate’s sleeping face. Or the popsicle blood on his chest.

“Hey, I’m really sorry,” he said, “We don’t have to be here if you don’t want to… I… I’ll leave you alone.”

Renée just shook her head. So he stayed.

MacCready looked at the man’s face directly. Maybe it was better, easier, that he never had to wake up and meet this new world.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

He didn’t know whether he said it to her or to Nate. Probably both.

Yeah, both.

He reached out and took her hand.

The longer they stood there, the more jealous he felt. Renée had a body to visit, one that would stay preserved in its tomb. He had nothing left of Lucy.

“We should probably,” Renée suggested, “Before he thaws...”

“Right.”

He let go of her hand so she could press the button. She touched the glass once his pod sealed, a lover’s final touch.

He never got that with Lucy. He was glad Renée was able to do it, but it was conflicted by jealous yearning. Renée had memories before the war, and a body to mourn. She had a proper childhood and parents. So many things just out of his reach fell into her hands.

He swallowed the bitter feelings, trying to focus on the part of him that was glad at least someone was able to mourn properly.

Renée stood there looking through the glass until he suggested their exit. She followed him out without saying another word.

“It’s changed,” she commented as they reached the surface and looked out over the hill at the Sanctuary she rebuilt. The new houses stood among the old ruins.

“You made it better,” he assured her.

Followed by my notes:

"[smut] [grief smut] [two widows smut] [two widows who just visited the body of her husband in a freezer smut]"

[selene-tarot]

Victoria Monet Personality Reading

DISCLAIMER: This is all ALLEGED, please take this reading with a grain of salt, the reading may not be a 100% correct and just know this is tarot, don't take it super seriously. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Overall, I couldn't get too much for her personality? It feels like she has major trust issues. It's hard for others to get close or read her sometimes. She has a laid-back vibe, but I sense a bit of mental confliction as well(like anxiety, for example). While pulling cards, I heard the word "potty mouth," so she may be the type of use a lot of profanities. Seems to be a perfectionist. I feel there's like a people pleaser aspect to her personality, which normally gets her taken advantage of in both her career and in her personal settings. She may tolerate things because she wants access to certain spaces and people. She may even do things like ghost writing and not claiming the credits for it. It is like she wants to feel accepted, but she had to realise that she's not for everyone forcing yourself where you're not welcomed will never work. I do feel this something she's working on, and by the time she reaches her 40s, it'll be easier to manage stricter boundaries and release any built-up resentment.

[jupitersrising]

SotF Announcement

Hey lovelies! I'm so sorry I've been taking so much time off lately, but college has been kicking my ass and this week's chapter will be postponed. Hopefully it'll be up sometime this weekend, but its late where I'm at and I just turned in an essay so my brain is mush. I'm thinking this week's chapter will be on the longer side and a lot of S3 plot comes into the mix!!!

Unedited Expert (to hold you over):

“Is she…is she gonna make it?” His words were slowing, quieting. Once, Ben wouldn’t have noticed. Maybe when his hearing was better. Maybe when he didn’t understand. But now he noticed each ticking octave. Each slowly down syllable like they were garbled in his mouth. 

Ben had lied about a lot of things in his life, to a lot of people. But this- this- he looked at Kenji. The half of his face visible in the glow of the tide and the moon. Could he lie about this? About her chances? “It's likely a [REDACTED]. It’s not impossible to treat.” 

[REDACTED]

[REDACTED]

Their chances weren’t good, not without antibiotics. 

When he looked up again, he saw it. The shiny tears spilling down his cheeks. Slow and silent. Catching only from the light shining off them from the moon. He wiped it off with the palm of his hands, rubbing his cheeks till they were inflamed. “She’s gonna make it.” 

“Right,” He didn’t need to know the odds. If the tears were anything to go by, he knew how screwed they were. 

“She’s gonna give us shit for crying over her.” His laugh rang hollow. But it was there, trying. Trying to make it better. To make it easier for Ben. 

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to remind himself that it was all his fault. He was killing his friends. I am killing my friends. Were. Were. Were. 

“You’re crying,” Kenji reached for him, cupping his cheek and brushing a stay tear away. 

“I’m not- I’m fine. Everything is going to be fine. She is going to be fine.” He repeated it like a mantra. Like a prayer. A part of him wished he believed in a God like Sammy did. Wished he could put faith in something bigger than himself. In knowing that she was going to be okay in the end. In knowing that if- if she died [REDACTED] would get to go somewhere beautiful. 

[ravs6709]

Don't Need Your Voice To Understand You- Queerplatonic Keefex

Word count: 0.9k words

Late birthday gift to Meg @ultralazycreatorfan !!! One of my first online friends, and by far the one who enabled me the most <333. So glad to have found you ilysm and hope you enjoy!

Had thoughts of sign language and keefe so it's basically taking place around unlocked. In where dex teaches him it (because dex autism thoughts) and not actually in a qpr but that's the vibe

Warnings: singular swear

•~•~•~•~•~•

"This whole fear you you have over controlling people," Dex began, "your power works because of the inflection of your voice, right?"

Keefe nodded.

"So, I have an... alternative."

Keefe raised an eyebrow.

"I'll be back, just wait here."

Keefe squinted at him, but shrugged. Dex leaped to his house briefly and went searching through his room. The thing he needed, he hadn't used or actually seen it in years, but it had been so important, so he managed to find it. He picked it up and quickly leaped back.

When Dex got back, he walked to the bed Keefe was sitting down and dropped a heavy book on it, plopping onto the blankets with a loud noise.

Keefe scrunched his nose, opening his mouth, only to shut it. He closed his eyes, let out a breath, then looked back at Dex to raise an eyebrow. It was meant to be a casual action, but Dex could tell how much being afraid to speak was weighing down on him.

"I know you don't like reading," Dex said, ignoring as Keefe rolled his eyes, "but if you actually decided to look at the title you'd see that it's about communicating without your voice."

Keefe looked at him, confused.

"Open the book and you'll see what I mean."

Keefe shook his head, but opened the book, scanning the table of contents for something, then flipping over to a page, seemingly looking for something.

He pointed at Dex, then the book, then the image of a hand signing 'why?'

Dex understood what he meant. "Speaking wasn't really my thing when I was younger. Still isn't, but I'm better with words now. Back during early days of Foxfire before we all met Sophie, I just... couldn't speak. My parents were worried but they figured that it'd be easier for me to communicate if I wasn't always forced to use my voice.

"Apparently signing was more common in the past, and it stopped getting taught as an important thing in Foxfire. But it helped me a lot. It still helps me, when speaking sometimes is too difficult."

He hadn't been looking at Keefe as he was explaining, and when he looked back at Keefe, he noticed that he had a pensive look on his face.

"What is it?" Dex asked.

'Empath', he mouthed.

He sighed. Right, Keefe's empathy ability had grown more stronger. He didn't think he was feeling too strongly when it came to any particular emotion, but Keefe must have been able to detect something.

"I'm alright," he said. "The non-verbal days aren't as awful as they used to be." He flipped the page back to the beginning. "We'll start with the basics, but it'll take a while for it to all really kick in, remember that. It's a whole new language."

Keefe nodded, a smirk on his face, a confident gleam in his eyes, as if he was prepared to learn the whole book.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The next time he leaped to Elwin's, Elwin greeted him with a smile on his face.

'Never seen him so excited for a book before.' He signed. 'Or this excited in general for a long time.'

Dex's eyebrows rose, excitedly signing, 'You know how to sign?'

'Helps with patients.'

'How's he doing?'

'His bodyguard had to force him to sleep.'

Dex laughed.

'Wish I thought of sign language earlier,' Elwin signed.

'It's not used often, I totally forgot earlier too.' Dex felt like shaking in excitement, something about being able to sign to someone who wasn't his family was thrilling.

After signing 'bye' to Elwin, he went to go see Keefe, and honestly, he hadn't felt this excited in a long time.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Hey!" Dex said, grabbing Keefe's wrist. "What you just signed means "fuck you" and not "thank you" is that understood?"

Keefe threw his arms up in the air.

"Yeah, yeah, they're super similar. The triplets keep trying to use that to their advantage." He snorted. "It never works."

Keefe let out a chuckle. Then he signed.

"Hey you're doing it on purpose aren't you—"

Dex tackled him, laughing. Keefe signed 'thank you' for real this time, smiling fondly.

"You're so using signing to cuss people out, won't you?"

Keefe smirked, nodding.

"...I've done it before."

He raised an eyebrow.

"...I've done it to Fitz."

A full blown, unrestrained cackle burst out from Keefe's lips.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Oh, sign language," Sophie remarked. "Didn't realize elves had that."

Dex shrugged. "Not too common."

Sophie gave him a pensive look. "I'm guessing that if you know it, there was a reason for it."

"Yeah," he replied casually.

"It'd be fun, to learn another language, I think," Sophie said. "The others would probably agree. Make things easier for us."

"Especially those who don't have telepathy."

She nodded. "Yeah."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Keefe draped himself over Dex, resting a hand on his head dramatically.

Dex wanted to push him off for being so dramatic, but decided not to. Instead, he pat his head affectionately.

'It's so fun being around you,' Keefe signed, and Dex felt oddly proud to see how fast he was learning. 'The heart's already devoted to someone, but treat me so nicely more and I might have to fall for you.'

Dex playfully shoved him off, bending over laughing. 'I need to be more mean, I think.'

He pouted, and Dex rolled his eyes. He'd turned his body away, but caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye.

'Thank you so much for this.'

Dex smiled at him. 'No problem.'

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @stellarune @my-swan-song @impostertamsong @subrosasteath

Want to be added/removed from the kotlc tag list? Just let me know!

[moon-and-stars-appreciation]

Anxiety Attack Advice

Hello! I know this is probably too late for this time, but maybe it'll be helpful next time (hopefully there won't be a next time, but that's wishful thinking). I hope you're okay and feeling better now, though! :)

Well, firstly, you have the classic methods like:

- the 3-3-3 method - focus on three things you can see around you, then focus on three things you can hear around you, then focus on three things you can feel. This should help you ground you and hopefully slow your spiralling.

- breathing. It sounds dumb, I know, and it's really not easy, but you should try to concentrate on the rhythm of your breathing. Breath in through your nose for 4 seconds, then out through your mouth for 4 seconds.

- relaxing your muscles- it helps relieve stress and can stop the panic attack. Slowly unclench you hand and let your finger go limp. Then your palm. Then your wrist. Then your forearm. And so on and so on. Keep going until your whole body is relaxed and limp, then you should no longer be as stressed.

And here's some things that work for me, which may or may not make things worse for other people, so only do this if you think it may work for you:

- Distractions- find any way to distract yourself. This can include:

> putting on a vine compilation so that your brain concentrates on those and starts quoting them along, eventually leading you away from the panic.

> standing up and going to get some water or make some tea (camomile is good). It's a task that forces you to move and do things, so it forcibly pulls you back to reality. Warning though! If your hands tremble and shake, I suggest being careful with the boiling water!

> talking to someone. As a person who's really shy and hates social interaction, I find that distracting myself from anxiety with other stress is somehow helpful. Also, a conversation can help ground you, bringing you down from a high, forcing you to focus on your replies.

> stroking a pet. Running your fingers through their fur is destressing and it grounds you because it forces you to feel the fur. If you don't have a pet around, a fluffy pillow will do just as well.

> taking a look at your hand. Have you ever noticed how your fingers fold and bend when you press in specific parts of your hand? It's fun to play and mess around with. Also, once again, it makes you aware of the feeling.

> lighting a candle and focusing on the way the flames dance and move, and the quiet popping sounds the wick sometimes makes. It's a grounding device because it forces you to concentrate on the sounds and sights around you. Also, fire moves slowly, which is also relaxing.

- Ranting- rant to someone. Simply just put the panic attack into words and complain about how much it's fucking up your life. This can be irl or a written piece to someone. Just make sure someone hears it! That gets you stressing about how they'll respond and if maybe you overshared. Also, it just gets things off your chest.

- Rationalising- this sounds a lot easier than it actually is, but try to think about what caused the response. What caused this? Is this an appropriate response? What would you rather be doing right now? Is there really a good reason for this or are you just being dumb? I'm sorry! Guilt tripping just works for me.

I hope you find these at least a little useful! And I'll remind you that I'm always down to talk, be it through dms or through asks! :)

Take care of yourself! I love you! <3

Hey guys it’s been a while, if you still interact with me??? Thank you???

Figured other people could use this, and you’re an angel so thank you for everything you’ve ever said and done for me. I remember when tumblr was where I was all of the time, I think you might’ve saved my life a couple times with all of your kind words, and I thank you so much.

Love ya <3

[trippinsorrows]

Ok, small rant because I kinda just had a whole epiphany 🫠🫠

I read your last ask about Joe and Reader, and I wanted to comment that at first, I felt that Joe was being written as just a man hoeing around & it always pissed me off how he brushed off reader when she ended things, at first at least. & I don't know if that was intentional? Because to me there was a switch when it came to his character like man cheating to man in love. But then I thought that, well there was a bizzillion things we didn't know, so the narration couldn't tell us why he wasn't fighting for her. BUT THEEEEEEN I thought that we are the reader, the narration comes from her, so we see things from her pov so it made sense that she perceived him that way? Because in that moment he was in fact just a man hoeing around to her? Idk

And that's where sometimes I have a "hard" time(and I don't even think that's the right word) with With Me cause sometimes I wanna be in his head 😂 and it stressed me that I can't because I'm her, if that makes sense. Like when he was being shady about his plans after WM. Especially cause that man tends to compartmentalize his emotions so he is kinda hard to read unless reader is... well, reading him and tell us how she thinks/knows he's feeling.

And maybe that's why I think I have sooo many questions about them at the beginning because I'm craving to know all the details, like was he in love? What did he think when he saw her? Was he fucking other women at first? Was he really gonna do nothing about his feelings before knowing about Callie!? Etc. Like bro, tell me what you're feeliiiiiiing. (Even with Roman with LTYE I feel we do get his pov from time to time. is it weird that i feel i know Roman better than Joe? 😅).

Anyway, this of course has nothing to do with your amazing writing ❤️ it was just like my perspective reading your story. And I do realize is kind of stupid coming to the conclusion that i am reader 🙃 like duh?

Anyway, thanks if you read all that and thanks for sharing your stories with us. 🥰

lmaooo i love rants! it vibes so well with the adhd in me 🤣🤣🤣

everything you touched on is why, surprisingly, i really don't like reader insert stories. i find them much easier to write than third person, but you're so limited to perspective! like you said, the entirety of that series is told from 'our'/readers perspective, so it's inherently biased. we only know what she knows as she knows it.

so, yes, roman did appear pretty dismissive when she ended things, but as they'd been fucking around for a minute, he didn't take her seriously. until he did and realized she was for real.

reader stories, imo, are just so limiting. you and i seem to be on the same page. we like to know what's going on with characters. 🤣 there's a bit more freedom with that in third person. so, it makes sense you know more about roman than joe because roman has been fleshed out a ton more. we see so much more of his dynamics, get some of his pov from time to time, get to know him better. if that makes sense lol

and tbh, i would love to show more of joe and his family dynamics beyond the twins in the series, but like i said in another ask, i just feel weird about bringing in his real family members who aren't famous when it's obvious irl joe is a very private person. and i know it's literally just a damn fanfiction story, but idk 😭 like i wanted to have a scene or flashback showing callie meeting joe's parents, and then sika died and these rude ass people who don't respect boundaries at all kept sharing the photos and videos, and it just left a sour taste in my mouth idk.

but anyway, i'm going on a tangent lol, yes, you're also spot on that he compartmentalizes a lot of things, primarily his emotions. it'll be interesting to see how that plays out in the rest of book 2.

i do try my best to hint at things throughout the story. so, for instance, and i can't remember all of them, but i hinted at various points about joe dropping the title chapters before it actually happened. the one that's at the top of my head is when the girls are at the club and naomi suggests reader and callie go on the road with joe, but kaylah cuts her off and they change the subject. that's cause they already knew joe wasn't going to retain and was taking time off. or how when reader asked the girls about joe being weird and shutting down conversation about when the post baby arrives. we see bianca being in agreement with reader before she stepped out to talk to joe, but the minute the reader comes back, she done changed tunes. that's cause the ladies informed her of joe's plan.

i know they're not super obvious hints, but that's also kinda the goal? i like to hint and foreshadow in subtle ways that make you go 'ohhhh, that's why xyz happened!' lol

so yeah, now i'm just rambling, so i'm gonna shut up and thank you for your ask, friend! 😭😭😭

[the-firebird69]

Fisherman's village was in arrears the federal government was monitoring somebody came by and bought it and they have plans to fix it up those people are missing and we know who they are it is a group that's always wanted to buy it to make it better to repair it and make it more permanently repaired and not sick and definitely not as evil as this piece of s*** and he's horrendous I mean people don't want to be here with him there so he did something to these people and he's disguising himself as them and law enforcement is on to it

We hope they do something he's disgusting

Thor Freya

Olympus

Shut up you little baby you're asking me day and night so you can get mad then have your nuts and balls cut off and have you beat up your phone's broken and you shot so shut up Billy Hicks

Zues Hera

I'll tell you what I sort of get your point of view you're saying no you don't you're running around saying you have the laser light computer he says I'm saying I have that yes and it's not willing bills so you should be afraid and stuff

Trump

So you say it doesn't prove anything

Zues Hera

You know what m*********** this is what I'm saying I'm going to start harassing you okay I've been doing it and now I have stage 5 cancer so I guess it'll probably stop and you're saying what you're doing is killing yourself and you're trying to harass me and I'm getting rid of you but really you should go around and yell at people and tell them you have the laser light computer cuz I don't believe you do and even if you did who cares it's just another computer except it can take over cage you and run robots during a nuclear storm.

I got to tell you you're not listening what you're saying is I have the laser light computer and what you say is you're not listening I didn't say that so I say this you're implying I do and I said no I'm not you're f****** moron trying to remillard AKA Donald Trump what I'm saying is what you said and what you said is that you have it that's what I said like a newspaper reporter I'm just saying and stating what you said as a statement for many months and recently and now and you're trying to say that I said all sorts of other things and I did not and you're a liar. So I guess we have a disagreement and said no we don't have a disagreement you have a week brain and a weak mind and a weak memory... I guess I told you that I haven't and that's what I said and he says so what you told me something it's up to you to convince everyone else so they can blow your f****** brains out. Well I do see that and I'm not convincing them good I'm not convinced at all I don't think that you could do anything with it even if you had it but that's because I know that you're an amateur and a slime ball and a low life and a sleaze but a lot of people think you might or the cheeseman but cheeseman might because he has actual ability and he's exercising his brain instead of getting stage 5 cancer. I really take offense to it and that's great he says I want you to I'm insulting the s*** out of you to get you killed he says that and it's working and he likes it doesn't have a problem with it I do but he doesn't care he says I don't care I said it before get off the line you f****** homo you're using our line and having a safe stuff so we're going to cream you. Disgusting but really the kids got a point my own guy is doing it and we're getting ripped apart he's been taking tons of stuff so I have to go check he says thank you it's easier way to get at you and it works

Charlie Manson

Olympus we say to print now

And we do

Hera

A lot of people try and imitate you for how you're speaking with this dildo and they should because it's very basic he's trying to put words in your mouth he's trying to say you said stuff and people are hearing it straight right here so please print

Thor Freya

What it is is if he has this computer system laser light I want people to nail the son of a b**** and kill every one of them and take it if he doesn't have it people have to make damn sure he doesn't that's all I hate the piece of s*** I want him dead and he's open to his mouth and proven that it should probably happen

Zues Hera

[anokayapple-blog]

It's true that, when standing at the top, everyone looks smaller.

Everywhere we went, I felt like i was standing on top of Mount Everest, even at my 5'2" height i still felt taller than everyone i came across. Whether it be the President of the United States or Mark Zuckerberg, i held more power in my pinky finger than them simply because my friends and i thought it would be funny to start a religion.

The beginning of Word started kind of like Frindle, you know that kids book by Andrew Clements? This kid decides to make up his own slang word by using it a lot and it caught on, and eventually everyone used it and it got into the dictionary. We did that, except with REALLY believable fascination and dedication to the Word. It was all a joke, but we overestimated how little the average person would care about this religion.

I think our first mistake was telling my friend Hailey's coworker Sam True about it. Sam was a gullible man, believing in everything under the sun from Joe Biden being a lizard to, well, our "religion." We told him as a joke, knowing he'd take us seriously in all of it with little to no evidence of the Word being real. We hyped it up, "Only the chosen get to know the real Word. None of us really know what the Word is, but if you believe hard enough and pray long enough it'll just come to you! That's how all the billionaires came from nothing and became something, they know the Word."

We weren't expecting Sam to run with it so hard. Hailey told us every day about Sam's conversion from Christianity to the Word, how he attributed every good thing to getting closer to knowing the Word. What changed everything was when he approached Hailey and said he couldn't find a church for the Word, so he gathered money from other followers of the Word to buy a small building in the city for us to gather. It was at this point we realized some of the gravity of what we've done. We've started a lie that people had begun placing their lives on, and we had to meet in private to discuss whether or not now was the time to fess up.

"What will happen if they do start meeting up?" I asked. "What if they start marrying each other in the name of the Word? What if more churches start cropping up? We made all of this up and people are changing their lives to what the Word demands!"

"It's kind of funny." Jordan giggled. "They don't even know what the Word is and they are worshipping it night and day."

"It's not that funny." Hailey said. "This is quickly getting out of our control."

"We should tell Sam it isn't real. This is getting cruel." I said.

"Well, hold on," Jordan said. "Maybe we should see what we can get out of this."

Hailey and I exchanged a look, letting our eyes slowly move back to Jordan who sipped her coffee calmly, as if her suggestion wasn't the most immoral thing she ever thought of at that point. "Like...you want to start a cult?" Hailey asked.

"I mean, you can define it as that, sure, but it would be a great way to get some play around money." Jordan said. "Think of it this way, we can all barely afford our rent. We live in a shitty three bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city while all these rich people profit off our hard work by doing nothing. Wouldn't it be nice to do the same thing, maybe not at the same level, but imagine how easier life would be with this separate income. We could collect donations like other churches do and just...pay our bills."

"That's fraud, Jordan." I replied.

"Only if we get caught. All the megachurch priests do it! They show off their private planes and no one cares!"

"Jordan, this is wrong."

"She might have a point, though." Hailey interjected. I couldn't grasp the gull of her agreement, turning to her with wide eyes and mouth agape. Her face was in a tense wince, barely meeting my gaze out of the corner of her eye. "Its not fair that we work so hard for so little. If we have this opportunity to be able to better afford rent and have a nicer life, why not take it? I mean, it's before us on a silver platter...honestly, we'd be stupid to not take it."

"But we'd be benefiting off of the ignorance of others. They're basing their faith on nothing, the Word is nothing! We made it up because we were bored!"

"Exactly." Jordan said. "They're stupid enough to believe in something they barely know. I'm not saying they deserve to be taken advantage of, but wouldn't it be better we do it rather than someone sinister?"

"We're sinister for doing this." I replied.

"Well, someone worse."

"No, Jordan. I don't want to do this."

Hailey and Jordan exchanged a look now. "We're not saying what we're doing is good." Hailey told me. "We know it's wrong, but...what other choice do we have? If one of us gets in an accident or gets cancer, what do we do? We're barely making ends meet as it is with rent and our student loans. This is our chance to become afloat financially."

I thought about that. She was right, of course. If we really leaned into the Word we could probably make some good money off of it. We could pay off our student loans, find a place that was livable, unlike our crummy apartment with our chronically absent landlord. Yet, in my stomach, I could feel the cold, stone-like weight of the idea of the misdeed alone. "It doesn't feel good to even consider it." I said.

"Of course it doesn't feel good." Jordan rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying do this and like it. I'm saying this is for survival only. If the world gets any worse, which i guarantee you it will, we're going to be the first to be screwed over. If we do this it heightens our odds in being the second or third people to be screwed over."

I hated it, but Jordan was right. We were normal people, exactly the kind that would be left to the wayside if the economy crashed or a war broke out. This was a stray life raft that had floated over to us when our ship went down, and we would be fools to let it float away.

So we leaned in. We went to the Word meeting that weekend and really sold it, asked others to tell their families about it. It didn't take long for the first few Word followers to amass more. What was shocking to me was how fast the Word spread, how quickly we had to move on from a dingy basement in the inner city to a nicer church in the suburbs. Then, we had to open more locations. At first it was Jordan, Hailey, and I splitting up to do sermons at three different churches, but before I knew it there were churches all over the state being run by people I'd never met before, people who heard of the Word and were dying to preach about it.

Hailey, Jordan, and I found a nicer apartment in the nicer part of the city. We loved our apartment, we loved the view it gave us of not just the city, but our churches. Hailey and Jordan were satisfied, and I was proud of all the work I put in, but not in what it was for. I still had that stone in my gut, and with every day that passed it got heavier.

Eventually, we had gotten enough money from the churches that we quit our jobs and simply did the small amount of work that went into running a religion. We had hired people to do a lot of the every day stuff, the only thing we really did was benefit from their work and sometimes do interviews. The great thing about running a religion is that faith is profitable, but no one really cares to talk to you about it. Many of our days were spent doing what we liked to do: art. Hailey was a singer and Jordan was a painter, I am a writer. We all worked at an outsourcing firm doing things like proofreading and document processing, letting what we love sit and rot in our souls. But now we had the time to do it. I loved the free time, but I still worried the cost was too much.

At some point, I couldn't escape the Word. It was everywhere. "In the name of the Word," "Believe in the Word," "Let the Word find you." I felt like there was a God and he was punishing me for slowly erasing him. Other religions, the original religions, were bleeding followers. Catholic churches were closing their doors and die hard Christians were calling us the devil for tricking their people into joining our cult, well, at that point it was so big it really was a religion. The Word was inclusive, where other religions turned away people of different cultures or lifestyles. It was likeable for how little it required of the average person and now little it cared for who you were. The Word was simple: be your best self, and the Word will find you. The Word will make your life better because you will know it.

It had gotten away from us, the Word. When we were recognized by our followers they begged us to tell them the Word even though part of the religion was finding the Word on your own, if it was told to you it wouldn't work. We had to hole up in our apartment to get some peace from the Word. Even Jordan began to resent it, this thought baby of hers. One night when we all got drunk she admitted to all of this being a mistake. "I thought itd be easier to handle." She said softly. "I thought it'd manage on its own, and if it ever got off the rails we could control it. Now, we're a major religion. We are Catholicism, we are Christianity and Judaism and Islam...and because of that, of the sheer size of this joke, we can no longer handle it. We can't backpedal anymore, it's no longer our religion to control."

And so, we can live comfortably in our lie. We have all the money we could imagine, all the things we could want, but a giant, cold stone sits in our stomachs from what we've done. We tricked the entire world into following a Word they don't know, into changing their lives entirely just to try and figure out what this word is. They dedicate their lives to the Word, thank the Word for their achievements and their good fortune. The Word helped them survive a car accident, the Word brought them to the love of their life, the Word gave them their raise that will give them the chance to buy a new car to get to work.

The Word has done all of this for these people, and they have no clue what it is.

Hailey, Jordan, and I do. We thought of the Word immediately when we came up this this joke, this religion.

The Word is penis.

Prompt;

You and your friends are bored. So, of course, you start a cult.

Now that you’ve won the religious war, and 90% of the world follows your religion, you all start thinking maybe it’s gone a little too far.

Just a little.

[dragonmuse]

My curiously was aroused on my most recently reread of the LH&K 'verse when Stede said there was "very heated bargaining" around the wedding party. Was that just about whether they'd have one at all/how many people? Or were they actually wanting the same folks?

(excellent question!)

What mostly happened was that Eddy did not give a flying fuck and Stede very much cared and was picturing a flock of doves worth of people. Eddy bargained him down to one each and then Stede asked,

"Who do I choose then?"

"Whoever you want?" Eddy had a headache.

"But that's playing favorites."

"Yeah? So?" Maybe if they fell asleep Stede would work through it on his own. Except it was noon and they were at the nice brunch place that Eddy would like to come back to and people got weird when you fell asleep face down in a plate of maple syrup.

"It's not...I don't want anyone to be upset."

"Why would they be upset?"

"Because I chose someone over them? It would make me upset," Stede reasoned, waving around a bit of bagel.

"So don't choose anyone."

"But that brings us back to either no party or an enormous one."

"No to the big one," Eddy reiterated. "We figured this out already. Best person each. Deal is a deal, golden boy."

"Fine," Stede frowned. "So who are you going to choose?"

"Jim," Eddy said without having to think about it.

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"Don’t do that. It’s just if I understand your reasoning, it'll be easier for me to decide. Maybe I want Jim."

"Fuck off, you can't have them." She took the bagel out of Stede's hand and popped it in her mouth.

"I would've given it to you, darling," he sighed. "Just tell me."

"Ugh, fine," Eddy chewed slowly, buying time. But there was no getting around admitting, "they're my closest friend."

“Are they?” Stede frowned. “How do you know that?” 

“Fucking hell,” Eddy picked up their empty coffee cup for something to occupy their hands. “Dunno. Got a lot in common. Spend a lot of time together. Have fun together. If I want to tell someone something and you’re not around, they’re next on the list.” 

“Oh. That makes sense,” Stede offered up his cup. “If you want more.” 

“I’m good.” They set down the empty one. “Just...it’s Lucius, right? You can have him.”

“Lucius?” 

“Yeah, my love. Tall one with the fluffy hair that follows you around like he’s on a string and it's annoying the hell out of him. Can’t miss him.” 

“We do spend a lot of time together.” There was a smidge of coffee left in Stede’s mug. Eddy reconsidered and took it off him. Stede barely took notice, lost in thought. “Do you think we’re friends? I mean I would consider him a friend, but I’m not sure he’d consider it back.” 

“Dunno. Probably. You’re likeable.” 

“I’m really not,” Stede frowned, noticed his hand was empty and picked up his water glass instead, taking a sip. “I think you’re the only person that thinks that.” 

“Good thing I’m the one marrying you then.” 

That brought a small pleased smile to his face, “So it is.” 

“Anyway, he likes you. Luc isn’t the type that hangs around people that he doesn’t like.” 

“He’s not?” 

“Nah,” Eddy finished Stede’s coffee. “He’d be long gone by now if he thought you were shitty. Plus, there’s all the gossip sessions.” 

“I do not gossip,” Stede huffed. 

“You do. Maybe it’s about dead writers or whatever, but you two get very catty when left alone for too long. Like about the Bironic guy.” 

“Lord Byron deserves every nasty word ever said about him.” 

“Mhmm. See you can’t get me to talk about that worth a damn, but I bet if you text Luc right now, he’d have some kind of rant ready to go.” 

“I’m going to tell him you’re defending Byron.” Stede did not get out his phone. 

“If he falls for that, than he’s way more gullible than I’ve ever guessed,” Eddy snorted. “Just ask him, my love.” 

“Don’t know if you don’t ask.” It was a phrase Stede often leveled at the kids and he looked half-annoyed half-pleased that Eddy had needled him into it. “Fine. I’ll ask him.” 

Good. Then Eddy could have Jim. Perfect. Not that she cared. She didn't need a wedding party.

“Should we have another round of coffee?” 

“No,” Eddy reached across the table, but this time all she stole was Stede’s hand. “Can we go home? I’ve got a headache.” 

“Of course, dear. Do you think they should have matching suits?” 

Eddy considered the maple syrup again, more seriously this time.  “I would like a nap.” 

“You can’t fall asleep every time we talk about the wedding for too long,” Stede laughed. “Just tell me you’re done.” 

“My love, my heart,” Eddy clutched his hand. “Mercy. I’m so fucking done.” 

“All right, all right. Tabled for the day.” 

He was a ridiculous man and Eddy was going to marry him so hard as soon as they figured out the flower arrangements.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch. 7

Ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5 ch.6

Summary: in which Cassandra gets bullied and other sappy shenanigans

---

"Oh Nicole dear, so happy to see you again!" Duke's voice was cheerful as ever, tone masterfully crafted over years of being a businessman.

Nicole, taking small steps inside the ornate and now full of items room, greeted him with uncharacteristic giddiness.

"Duke! How's business?"

"Same as always, I'll be heading to Beneviento later tonight to deliver some tools for her," he took a long drag of his cigar and, noticing green eyes scanning over multiple items and said, "I also have your order."

With a childish grin on her face, she approached him, hands shuffling inside the small bag attached to her belt that all staff members had. She pulled out the money owed for her package and, in return, the Duke placed a decently sized box in her arms. With an oof she shifted it in a less precarious position, it's heavy contents seeming to plot against her small frame.

"Unfortunately I can't stay, duty calls. But thank you Duke."

"No worries, I do understand that your employers can be quite," he took another drag of his cigar, looking for the right word. "...demanding"

Nicole chuckled. That was one way to put it.

"Well until next time dear. Or if you find yourself in need of something else, I'll be here until six."

---

She was only wearing a long white towel when she heard a knock on the door. Assuming it was another maid, or even Anita inquiring about whether or not she'd be joining the rest of them for dinner, she opened the door just a crack.

It was a surprise to see none other than Cassandra standing there, her elegant frame in odd contrast with the modest corridor. She flung the door open, letting the brunette inside and took a quick glance down the hall, making sure no maid was on the floor after fainting due to fright.

"What are you doing here?"

"Aw, are you not happy to see me?" She was pouting, but her tone was joking.

Nicole rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips betrayed that she was indeed happy to see her. Cassandra only laughed instead, a beautiful melodious laugh, so unlike the dark cackles heard by prisoners down in the dungeons.

"Just sit down, I need to get dressed," Nicole pointed to the bed before moving to the small dresser and pulling out a clean uniform.

Cassandra went to sit on the slightly disheveled bed, eyes following the redhead's form as she let the towel drop to her feet and started to put on the various layers of her uniform. Then golden eyes darted to the box sitting on the bed. The tape sealing it had been cut not long after Nicole brought it back to her room to make sure all its contents made it safely. Not that she didn't trust the Duke, but postal service was postal service.

"What's this?" Cassandra inquired, trying to read the label but having no success as it had been scribbled over with a marker.

Nicole stilled for a moment, hands frozen on her white button up. She cleared her throat and shyly admitted:

"Actually that's for you. Do open it if you want."

Cassandra's eyes widened, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. The gesture had really caught her off guard. She gingerly lifted the lid, inspecting it's contents for a moment and then hummed.

"And here I was thinking you like my hair. With how much you love to pull on it and all that."

Nicole, now fully clothed and sporting a deep blush, marched to her and plucked the two boxes of red hair dye from gloved hands. She placed them on her nightstand and, with her voice just slightly more high pitched, she turned to the brunette.

"Those are mine, I meant the rest of it." And, after a chuckle, "I mean have you seen my roots? They're horrible!"

Cassandra only gave her a deadpan look and, after a long moment, said: "I think your hair is beautiful."

She didn't wait for a reply, not that it would be anything more than a stammered mumble of course. Instead she chuckled and returned her attention to the box. She examined the rest of its contents and then gingerly lifted one of the few tomes inside. The cover was glossy and malleable, it's pages shiny and with a distinct typography smell to it. It was so unlike her other books, it's pristine white state making it feel extremely out of place in the castle. She glanced at Nicole inquisitively.

"I do appreciate the gift, don't misunderstand me, but surely you know there's a small bookshop's worth of medical books in this castle."

"With all due respect, from what I've seen most of them are at least somewhat outdated. Interesting, yes, but I thought you'd like to learn something more...modern." Then she pulled out another book. "This is the same one I used while studying forensic pathology. It would make teaching you some things easier. Uh… assuming you want that."

Nicole averted her gaze, suddenly unsure of the usefulness of her gift. Cassandra however grabbed her chin between two fingers and pulled her gaze back on her. She smiled, finding the shy demeanor beyond endearing.

"I'd love that."

A small smile appeared on thin lips and Nicole leaned in to kiss Cassandra. It was soft and short, but no less intimate than the deep kisses they shared so many times in Cassandra's bed.

They had to go anyway.

---

Let's go to the library, Cassandra said. It'll be empty, she said.

When Cassandra swung open the intricate door, only to find the other two sisters lounging on one of the couches, it's not like they could do a one eighty and leave the room. That would've been both impolite and highly suspicious.

Instead, Cassandra grabbed her arm protectively and led them to the reading spot farthest from the other two. They placed one of the textbooks on the small desk and Cassandra took out a notebook. This would've been a lot more fruitful with an actual body on hand, but there were still a couple days until the human flesh supply had to be replenished and Cassandra was beyond eager to start on some things. So, for now, they had to settle for theory alone.

It took all of five minutes for the other two sisters to make their way to their desk. Daniela had a giddy yet curious expression on her face, while Bela seemed as unreadable as ever, if not for a glint in her eyes that betrayed her interest.

"Whatcha dooooing?" Came Daniela's voice, who cocked her head not unlike a curious puppy would while looking at the book's contents.

"Working," Cassandra replied, a slight growl accompanying her words.

"Could've fooled me," Bela spoke from behind the youngest sister, eyeing the hand protectively placed on Nicole's waist.

Cassandra snapped her eyes at the blonde, looking ready to throw her notebook at her head but Bela ignored her sister's ire and addressed Nicole instead.

"What are you studying?"

"I uh- just some basic anatomy concepts. Thought it would be a good idea to start with the things that the older books in the castle don't cover."

Bela only hummed, grabbed an ornate chair nearby, and plopped herself at the desk, opposite from the pair. Daniela mimicked her sister, but instead chose to sit down right by Nicole on the small couch. It took more willpower than she would admit not to glue herself to Cassandra's side when Daniela's face came uncomfortably close so she could look over the book's diagrams. She stood still as a statue though. After a couple seconds of silence and Nicole trying to figure out what she was supposed to do, Daniela drew her head back, looking at her with what was possibly the most serious expression she had seen on the youngest sister.

"You do realize we're not going to hurt you right? How could we lay a finger on our dear sister's lover hmm?"

Nicole's breath caught in her throat. She wasn't sure if it was due to the word used to describe her or how Daniela apparently knew that she was utterly terrified of her. Cassandra sighed beside her and, seeming to at least partially read Nicole's thoughts, clarified:

"Your heartbeat."

Oh. Yeah. Yeah her heart was beating a million miles an hour. And apparently the other three vampiric occupants of the room were able to hear it loud and clear. It did very little to ease her mind.

"Please do calm down, it feels like someone is having drumming lessons. Bad ones," Bela complained, head resting in one of her hands like she was already bored.

"Then shove a sock in your ears," Cassandra snapped.

Bela simply leaned back in her seat and stretched her arms above her head. "And risk not hearing my beloved sisters sing along to some pop song?"

Cassandra shut her mouth, a blush now slowly spreading across her cheeks while Daniela burst out into laughter. Even Nicole couldn't help betraying the brunette and letting out a giggle.

"I didn't know you could sing."

"I can't."

"Au contraire dear Cassie! Should I remind you of the last time Dragostea din tei came on the radio? The pathos!" Daniela reached over Nicole's lap to lightly shake her sister's knee through her giggles.

Cassandra only let out a long groan, face now hidden in her palms. "I hate you both."

"Mhm, we love you too," came Bela's reply, accompanied by a chuckle.

Nicole couldn't keep a small laugh while she snaked her arm behind the brunette to show some form of support against the merciless assailants. Maybe not a complete betrayal.

The scene really had something deep within her heart aching beautifully. It reminded her of the countless times she and Alex would mercilessly tease each other, but still have each other's backs through thick and thin. And for this familiarity to come from people that any sane person would consider bloodthirsty monsters? Hell, maybe they should start considering her a monster too, for the only word she could use to describe them in that moment was endearing.

"So," Bela lightly clapped her gloved hands. "Now that your pulse isn't giving me a headache anymore, what are we doing?"

She had a confident smirk on her face, but her eyes betrayed curiosity. Same for Daniela and, although mixed with a hint of annoyance, Cassandra. She opened the book in front of her, one of general human anatomy, and decided that the digestive system would be a good enough starting point.

---

Their little impromptu lesson didn't last more than two hours. Two hours that proved to Nicole just how oddly human all three sisters can be. Of course she had gotten familiar with Cassandra, intimately so, but the other two still felt like two looming monsters hiding in the shadows. At least up until now.

Bela seemed oddly intrigued by Nicole's explanation, although unlike Cassandra, she seemed to view it more like a story than anything. Daniela seemed slightly more interested, asking questions here and there and even starting to giggle like a middle schooler when they got to the rectum section. That got an eye roll from the other two. Nicole just laughed, finally understanding Mrs Hawkins, her private biology teacher from before she was allowed to step foot in any public school.

After they were done, Bela simply stood up and bid them good night. Danila instead excitedly proposed the skeletal system for next time and picked up the books she abandoned earlier. Then, with a small tower of tomes she went through a door tucked at the very back of the room. Her study, Cassandra had pointed out as they made their way out of the library.

"I didn't know your sisters were interested in medicine too." Nicole kept her voice low, almost as if talking too loudly would disturb the shadowy hallways.

"More or less. Daniela likes it and has a bit of hands-on practice but she has her nose in romance novels more often than not. Bela finds it interesting but botany is what she really loves. That and classic lit." She added the last part with a grimace and Nicole had to wonder which author had offended her personally.

Before she could continue that train of thought though, her gaze moved to the windows, the cloudless sky beyond thick glass panels full of twinkling stars. Her mind kept going back to a few hours earlier and at what Daniela had said. Lover. Did Cassandra truly see her as one or was the youngest sister just being her over the top self. Did she see Cassandra this way? Nicole had not allowed herself to dwell on that up until now, the idea that the brunette saw her as more than an over glorified lab partner with whom she occasionally scratched an itch seemed almost laughable. But the small gestures of affection shown in ways Cassandra seemed to know best were undeniably there. And the familiar flutter in her chest at each of said gestures was also undeniably there.

"What's wrong?"

Cassandra's voice, accompanied by the slight echo through the empty hallway, snapped Nicole out of her thoughts.

"Oh um- nothing." She sounded as convincing as someone trying to sell you a fork while showing you a spoon.

And Cassandra didn't seem to buy it. She moved in front of the redhead, walking backwards with no concern over possible furniture to collide into along the way.

"You always get this… face when something's bothering you."

"I do not-" the indignation in her tone was weak, little more than an attempt to change the subject.

"Mhmm you do. You normally look focused. Kind of like, if someone tried to scare you by throwing an eyeball at you, you'd laugh." She would. "Now? Now you look like a rabbit that has no time to run and is just laying low hoping whatever's hunting it passes by."

Nicole shut up for a moment, only looking at the brunette in front of her incredulously. Maybe she was far more attentive than she gave her credit for.

"Uh. Just thinking." At a raised dark eyebrow, the no shit went unsaid, so Nicole tried to elaborate. "About earlier. When we were with your sisters and Daniela uh- Daniela called me your lover."

Saying that the words felt awkward on her tongue was close to the year's biggest understatement. It felt like pulling out teeth would be an easier task. Nicole had never been good with her words, having learned since childhood to keep her mouth shut. But the fact that Cassandra seemed to share her struggle brought some semblance of comfort.

"And?" As if they were talking about the weather.

"And… was she right in describing me as such?"

She couldn't help a small gulp when the brunette stopped walking, looking at her with a frown. Any sane person would be at the very least somewhat afraid in this situation. Sanity however was scarce these days as Nicole was afraid, though not of the bodily harm that may come from her inquiry, but rather of Cassandra's answer.

"Nicole, your tongue has been in my mouth." Amongst many other places.

The redhead's cheeks turned a slight shade of crimson and she mumbled for an answer. She wasn't sure how to tell her that sleeping together did not automatically make them lovers. But then again, Cassandra's thoughts remained a mystery more than anything.

Thankfully the brunette took the metaphorical reins of the conversation and stepped forward. She wrapped her hands around Nicole's arms, gentler than one would imagine possible from her, and bent down to whisper no more than an inch away from her ear.

"I'll have you know, I'm not particularly fond of letting anyone I don't deem important touch me. Especially not the way you do."

The words made something flutter in Nicole's chest, an unfamiliar and comforting warmth. Said warmth got chipped away at the slightest bit when Cassandra pulled back to look her in the eyes.

"Should I take it that it's not mutual then?" Cassandra's tone was nonchalant, almost as if she didn't truly care about the answer. She could keep doing whatever she wanted either way, afterall who was going to stop her? But to someone who got familiar with all her small quirks and habits, the waver in her voice was more than clear.

"No." The world slipped from her lips with no hesitation.

No hesitation, because the more she thought about it, and she didn't need to think a lot mind you, the more Nicole realized that she couldn't remember a time when she felt the way she did here. Sure the initial threat of death looming over her head was anything but pleasant, but once that melted into affection and nights spent in Cassandra's arms the thought of leaving didn't as much as graze her mind.

"No, no. It is," she repeated, more certainty making its way into her tone.

At that Cassandra smiled. A small, almost shy one would say if they knew her well enough, smile. Her shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension when she leaned down again, her lips stopping not even an inch away. Nicole wasted no time leaning forward, their mouths meeting in a kiss that mixed softness and need beautifully. Their lips slid against each other until, surprisingly, it was Cassandra to pull back and sigh.

"Come sleep, we have some cutting up to do in the morning."

Nicole frowned. "Tomorrow? Wasn't that supposed to be due in a few days?"

A devilish grin appeared on black lips, fangs shimmering ominously in the low light. "Bela caught a foolish man-thing sneaking around the forest on the castle grounds. She's really excited to turn this one into a nice steak."

The redhead only let out an oh in acknowledgement. Foolish indeed. At least they could finally put into practice a few autopsy tricks Nicole had been itching to show her.

She let herself be guided back to Cassandra's chambers and into her bed, that she had grown intimately familiar with. The last thing she felt before falling asleep was the brunette's cool skin, pressed against her own. A welcomed comfort among the myriad of soft pillows that surrounded them. Nicole wondered briefly if being undead meant it was hard to keep yourself warm, but the thought quickly slipped away as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

[lindwyrmrelinquished]

No please continue talking about Ranbob and the Fishermen

I’m intrigued

ALRIGHT IT TOOK ME A WHILE BUT I THINK I HAVE A COUPLE THOUGHTS IN ORDER

So Ranbob tries to kill the fishermen right? Well what if. Emotions

This man hasn't had anyone in his city beyond possibly a hallucination of Dream here and there and the weird voices in his head that are just. Quiet most of the time. So now there's not just one stray traveller looking to loot the city, but four people who have no idea what they're doing there aside from a weird book telling them to be there, and these people are nice! They listen to his rambles and don't mind his forgetfulness, and they're just there to explore, and they're fascinated with every new thing they find, and Ranbob sees himself finding these things in the way they all react, and for the first time in a long while, his smile is real.

So when the whispers tell him it's time for them to go, he's hesitant. He sets the tree alight because he thinks it'll be easier than facing someone like that with his sword. But he chickens out(and this is where canon diverges)- he thinks the sight and feeling of the tree he practically raised, burning at his hands, was too much for him and he put it all out with the few water buckets he had, sustaining water burns kn the process but he doesn't care, he's panicking and he just- He can't do this. Burning the tree was a bad idea and that's how he rationalizes letting Cleetus live after pushing him to the ground.(the man sustained a couple broken bones and Ranbob can't find an explanation for why he gave him a healing potion.)

(more beneath the cut because this shit got LONG)

Then Benjamin tried to do the parkour over the lava, and Ranbob doesn't know why because that's dangerous and since when did he start caring- And either way he pulls him up instead of pushing him when he gets to the top. Ranbob hasn't said a word since the tree and doesn't assist Banjamin in getting back down. He thinks he'll keep doing the wrong thing but what is the wrong thing? He sees Dream standing among the group while they're looking over the new treasure they got, hoping it'll give them a clue on how to get out, and when that mask turns to look at him, the particles start fizzling. And Dream dissipates and suddenly Ranbob is on his feet and stumbling to a stop where Dream used to be. He was hallucinating again. And the fishermen actually show concern for him, even if Cleetus thinks he's crazy and Isaac is more than a little wary of him after the words crawling out of his mouth on the tree. And of course he says he's fine, he just doesn't teleport a lot, it makes him a little dizzy, and while it's not a lie it's not the complete truth either.

He keeps them all away from Dream’s room at all costs, knowing that he'll kill them with no more qualms if they do, and since when did he care about not killing someone? Maybe it's because these people aren't raiders of the city. Maybe it's because they indulged in all his available knowledge. Maybe it's because they've shown him kindness and care? And it's been so long since he's felt any of that... and he wants them to leave. The rule was absolute. They don't deserve to be down here. It's the one thing he's sworn to live by. Stuck here with him. They should go back. The rule was absolute. The rule is absolute.

Ranbob leads them back to the entrance. He knows there's a way to open it from inside, and he does and ushers all of them out. Cleetus crawls back up without hesitation, Benjamin gives Ranbob a quick hug before going and it short-circuits him for a moment, enough to miss Charles's mock salute from halfway up the ladder, but he does catch Isaac's reluctance to go up.

The voices start to whisper at him again. He can't understand them today, but he gets what they want him to do.

He tells Isaac to go back up. Isaac asks him if he wants to come with them, and he freezes. The rule is absolute. The rule is absolute. The rule is absolute. He can't leave. He'd be abandoning everything. His one tie to the other people in this city, the one rule everyone obeyed. He can't just leave it behind. He can't break that rule. He still has things to do down here. What things? He has to stay. He doesn't think he's breathing. Isaac is trying to get his attention. Charles is peeking in from upstairs. Cleetus is shouting. There are eyes on him and they're concerned, they're questioning, they're everything at once. His ears twitch- he can hear every shuffle and the voices up above, when did these people start to throw him into too much? Isaac takes his hand and his body rips it away. There's blood on his claws. The voices are crowding in, he can't think. The room is becoming pink and purple with particles. The people are talking and he can't understand them. Somehow Cleetus got down here and he's hauling Isaac back up with him. Ranbob doesn't want to be alone, but he just steps back. And the eyes leave. And suddenly he's all alone again. And the voices silence. The particles fade away but his panic doesn't. It's not a sense of betrayal anymore, just anxiety and he doesn't know why. The silence is loud. It keeps getting faster. Ranbob goes to sit in a corner again to wait the weeks or months or years for someone else to come.

The fishermen come back the next day, minus Cleetus. And they just. Talk to him, from up above. Ranbob doesn't respond save for a couple taps on the open ladder. His voice is too tired today- he talked a lot yesterday. But they understand. They fish and have a picnic up above, asking if he wants to join them. He prefers to stay downstairs so they hand him a little portion of their food. He doesn't realize the hunger he's been ignoring was so much. He got tired of the crops. His stock is far too high, he's only been gardening because it was something to do.

They come back every week and have a picnic with new things they got from the marketplace. Ranbob remembers when the trading center in the city was alive and bustling. He decides not to think of it, but when the fishermen talk about the outside, he can't help but imagine his city.

When Ranbob can talk again, he asks questions about their world. He asks for new seeds and plants them, and Isaac and Benjamin come down to look at his special little plot, untouched by the poison that permeates the rest of the soil. The voices don't tell him to hurt them this time, just whisper about how nice it is to show off to someone again. He missed this. He thinks he had siblings once, or maybe they were just friends, that he showed his now overgrown plot to.

They continue having the picnics for a few months. Sometimes the menagerie is different. Sometimes they bring pets- Charles especially has a few cats and dogs and birds and a rabbit as well? He tells Ranbob he can hold them if he comes up. Ranbob does not want to come up yet. One of Charles's cats always yells at him to bring her with, he says, and every time he does she's watching out for Ranbob. If they pass the entrance to the city, she meows until he docks there. She's the one that always rubs up on Ranbob's face. He thinks he loves her. Sometimes Cleetus comes, and begrudgingly he has forgiven Ranbob for the tree incident. It makes Ranbob go silent again and he misses next week's picnic by accident, tending to that tree and helping it regrow.

Someone gives him a camera and a few rolls of film so he can take pictures of the city and remember everything. Ranbob finds a couple pens and starts labeling the pictures they already have- he thinks maybe they gave him some used film on accident. It was not an accident, and now he has pictures of the fishermen.

It takes months before Ranbob even starts climbing a few rungs on the ladder, but once he starts he doesn't stop. He goes higher every time until his head is poking past the top, and eventually he does get to hold Charles's animals because he's out enough to see them and rest his arms on the ground up above. It's still a little too nerve-wracking to leave the city completely, but he's getting there. Bit by bit, and the fishermen are proud of him.