#mentions of laun

[kyber-crystal]

red thread || jake “hangman” seresin

summary: fate has a funny way of bringing people together, and it’s made no exception for you and hangman. you’ve grown up together; there's not a day that goes by in which you aren't glued to each others' sides. as kids, you promised each other that if you were still single at 30 you'd get married. but when that day finally arrives, you wonder just how much things will change.

words: ~2.3k

warnings: nothing. unless you’re like me and commitment scares you, then yeah lmao. hangman is an absolute gentleman in this though :) biggest TW is my writing...sorry. idk what happened. some slight mentions of angst and injury but nothing graphic :)

a/n: mannn my writing has gone downhill idk how yall other talented writers do it. i wish i could write that well 😭but, i’m proud of this...plotwise, at least! (my fics are doing so bad for some reason while everyone else seems to be blowing up??? idk) btw, the first part of this fic takes place two years before tgm

It was 1:30 a.m, and you couldn’t fall asleep. 

It seemed that Hangman had the same idea as you as he told you to meet him outside the Hard Deck in five. The coastal air and Jake Seresin was the perfect combination to help you unwind, so of course you said yes. 

“There she is,” he grinned as he offered a helping hand. “My favorite fellow insomniac.”

“Nightmares keep you up, Jake?” you teased. “What’s the matter this time?”

“Same as you. Don’t feel like sleeping yet,” Hangman answered. “Can you believe it? We’re awake, and Fanboy and Payback aren’t.”

“Now that’s a first,” you laughed. “Thought I’d never live to see that day, but here we are.”

“We’re making history day by day.”

“You know…sometimes,” you breathed out as you rested your head on his shoulder, “I wonder what it’d be like if we never met.”

“Didn’t you ask that same question fifteen years ago?”

“We were much younger back then. It’s different now.”

“Well, then…I don’t like to imagine it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“It’d be weird. You’ve always been a big part of my life, so to think you almost could’ve not been in it…it’s weird. Uncomfortable, even.”

“Yeah, it is weird…” your voice trailed off as you lingered on the thought. You’ve always done everything together. How different would your lives be now if you hadn’t become friends; hadn’t stayed in touch through college? “But don’t be sad, because I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

Hangman gave you a light punch in the arm. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.”

“You know, Y/N…there’s one more thing.”

“Uh oh.”

“Hear me out,” he started. “Remember that deal we made when we were kids?”

“The one about helping each other bury a body if needed, or getting married?”

“The second one…I thought the first was a given since the day we met. That’s something all friends are supposed to do for each other, right? Bury bodies, hide their trails…all that good stuff.”

“What about the second one?”

“We’re turning 30 soon,” he recounted. Any and all traces of cockiness were completely wiped off his face. “And we said that if we’re both still single by the time our 30th birthdays roll around, we’d get married.”

You smiled as you revisited the memory: wide-eyed and curious, and so blissfully unaware with the only worry in the world was whether you’d grow up together or not. “You still remembered all that?”

“Of course I did. You still in, or what?”

“I guess so…I mean, what else do I have to lose?”

The two of you fall back into your comfortable silence, and he wraps you up into his arms. 

TWO YEARS LATER

As usual, the base is busy and rather chaotic: day after day you’re busy filing reports and training. This causes you to become prone to forgetting the littler things in your life, so you assign Bob to keep track of them for you. He had the best memory of anyone you knew—that man kept mental notes of everything. 

“What do I have to do today, Floyd? Any events…”

“Uhhh…” Bob thought for a moment as you took a long drink of water. “Dinner with Phoenix. Do laundry. Don’t get yelled at by Cyclone for the 19th time (You’re only one point behind Bradshaw, he’s at 20). Grocery shopping. And most importantly…yours’ and Hangman’s birthday.”

“Oh, shit, I completely forgot,” you swore under your breath. “How could I forget…”

“You have some time, so don’t worry. Five days.”

“Only five days?” your eyes widened. “I have to run through four more simulations over the next two. I can’t plan everything in the remaining three.”

“If you pay Garcia in Doordash deliveries, he’ll help out. You know he minored in art.”

“That’s…actually not a bad idea.”

After you finish your final exercise that week, you pass out, but luckily, Hangman’s right there to catch you so you don’t get a concussion. Bless that man—he always seemed to be around wherever you went and you were very grateful for it. 

You were delirious and couldn’t walk straight, so as much as you claimed you were okay, he wouldn’t believe you. 

“I’m taking you home because you’re in no condition to be wandering around by yourself. The birthday planning can wait. You’ve tired yourself out enough as it is and you don’t want to make things worse.” So you let him help you get into his car, then drive you home and lead you inside. Then, he forced you to go upstairs to take a hot shower and relax while he cooked up dinner for you. 

Though Hangman admired your determined spirit, it scared the hell out of him because you wouldn’t know when to stop yourself. 

“I got that from you though! Who’s the one I spend the most time around?” you’d claim in response to that  argument. You weren’t wrong—it was a quality you picked up from him many years ago.

You woke up the next morning to the smell of French toast and jam, which lessens the tension in your shoulders right away. Amidst the early morning light drifting through the windows he stands out like a priceless work of art in a museum. You struggle to tear your eyes off him. 

Rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, you rested your chin on his shoulder and exhaled. “Hey.”

“Morning. You sleep okay? How’s that headache of yours?”

“I’m alright.” You closed your eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of cinnamon sugar. “This smells nice.”

If Hangman was tired, you couldn’t tell. “Woke up at 6:30 to relearn the recipe for you. It’s been a while, it took three burnt batches to get the hang of things.”

“You woke up an hour early to cook for me?” 

“Why else? Of course I did,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

You sat down at the kitchen island together and ate your breakfast in silence. Something about this moment feels more domestic than all the others you’ve shared in the past, and you can’t help but smile. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of eternity like this...

“Y/N, there’s some honey on your chin.”

You blinked, trying to find it. “Where?”

“Hold on a sec.” Hangman took his napkin and rubbed gently at the corner of your lip to wipe it off. For a brief moment, you could feel his warm breath fanning across your face. You stayed as still as possible. “There.”

If anyone looked in from the outside, it was another simple day in the life of a longtime couple. But for you and Jake, it’s always been like this. Showing up at each others’ place wasn’t unusual for either of you; if anything, it was quite normal. 

“...Thanks.”

“Yeah. You got any ideas in mind? For the big day.”

“Whatever you want is what I want.”

“Funny enough, that’s what I was about to tell you,” he replied.” 

You locked eyes with each other and laughed. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure we will.”

Less than three days until everything as you knew it would change forever...if you were being honest, you were absolutely terrified. What if he changed his mind and left you in the dust, all alone? You weren’t ready to face the cold truth. 

Hangman offered a simple celebration: food and drinks at the Hard Deck with the crew, then some karaoke if you were up for it after. He starts it off by serenading you at the bar, reaching a hand out to you as he sang your favorite Billy Joel track. You let him lead you out to the dance floor and spin you around, and he’s equal parts addicting as he is entertaining. 

Thirty candles, and you agree on blowing out fifteen each—somehow, by some miracle, you manage to do exactly that, and it’s perfect. Then Fanboy yells that he and Rooster want a rematch with you in Just Dance…so you go at it for two hours straight, until sweat is dripping down your face and your sweater grows hot. 

You’re burnt out, and he can see the look in your eyes as you step aside to let Phoenix play. “You want to head out? There’s something I want to show you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He gives Maverick a look, and the captain shoots him a subtle nod in return. He takes this as his signal to put his hand on the small of your back and lead you out the door. 

You can’t help but laugh a little as you get outside. “Is this Mav’s motorcycle?”

“No…” Hangman shifts from foot to foot, feigning cluelessness. 

“Did you steal it?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s his, isn’t it.”

“Look, he let me borrow it for the night. It’s not stealing if he says it’s okay…besides, he never noticed when I did steal from him last week—”

“What did you—do you even have a motorcycle license?”

“Got it a year ago. I thought, ‘maybe I’ll take my best girl on a ride someday, so who knows if it’ll come in handy’. So here we are now.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Alright, now come on.” He swung his leg over the side and motioned for you to sit behind him. The cushion was not in fact, cushiony, and you found yourself growing colder by the second.

The bike burst forward without warning. You let out a small yelp and immediately wrapped your arms around Hangman’s waist—which was ridiculously firm…had he been working out more lately?—as you went speeding down the road. 

“If I die, I’m gonna kill you and haunt you in your sleep,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket. “Even in death, I’ll stick to you always.”

“That sounds both morbid and weirdly romantic.”

“Shut up.”

Several minutes later you found yourselves by the cliffs, standing high over the ocean, and deja vu hits almost right away. After we go on this make up date, he had said, I’m going to find that guy who messed you up and mess him up. Then we’re going to go home, I’ll let you wear any of my sweatshirts you want, and we’ll watch true crime. One where someone like that jerk dies. Okay? Okay.

You’re miles away from Top Gun, miles away from your jet and your uniform and everything you’ve ever known, but you’ve never felt more at home than now. It’s in this moment in which you realize all you really need in the world is Jake, the sky above you, and the sea below you. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed that he’s getting fidgety. He can’t stop stuffing his hands in and out of his pockets or running them through his hair—he’s restless. The action takes you by surprise a bit. 

“Why are you all tensed up?” you questioned. “It’s just me and a nice sunset. We’ve done things like this many times.”

“But it’s not just you and a sunset,” he explained. “I’m supposed to be asking you the most important question of our lives. That’s a big deal, sweetheart.”

Your heart spluttered to a stop. “Are you…”

“Let me finish,” Jake cut in. “If you could be quiet for a few minutes…that would help. I’m nervous.”

“Jake Seresin, nervous?” you teased. “That’s a first.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Give me a break.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be nice…for now.”

“I haven’t slept at all in the past week. I went to eleven different jewelry stores around San Diego but nothing seemed to scream ‘Y/N’. So, I decided to take a trip out of state.” He cleared his throat, and reached into his jacket pocket. You saw his hand shake as he did so. “Out of the country. That mini mission I went on while you were training? I was in Canada. Victoria, to be specific. Maverick and Rooster came along to help out.”

Now in his hand was a small velvet box, and inside was the most breathtaking ring you’d ever seen. “Diamond and ruby. They don’t sell plain red strings for rings…so I had them design this. The red thread of fate…the one that brought you into my life. We were kids when we promised to spend our lives together, if circumstances permitted. And I know we might’ve been young, but I’d be lying if I said I could imagine myself with someone that wasn’t you. There was a part of me that wished you wouldn’t find anyone before this day came along. It’s you, Y/N. It always has been.

“I’m not going to get down on one knee. I’m not going to give you a long, cheesy speech about divine power and soulmates. But I’m going to tell you this: you’re my forever, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s getting cold out so I’ll cut to the chase: what I’m saying here is that I’m asking you to marry me.”

The world fell silent as you replied with a shaky nod, holding out a trembling hand as Jake slid the golden band onto your ring finger. Neither of you made a sound, and you swore you felt time stop and the ground crack wide open beneath your feet.

tags, including those who may be interested: @callsignbarb @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @dilfsandtherapy @purelyfiction @yeehawnana @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @newlibrary @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @thisismypointofview @ice-mans-world @burnedbrisket @fangirlinc @knowledgefulbutterfly @levis-butterfingers @lunamooncole @coastingline @chaoticassidy @hbstre @fantasias-creativebubble @light-the-moon @winteryoungie @aie1840 @midnightdevotion @julia-marshal @anya7802 @bittergomez @and-claudia @cosm1cfae @tallrock35 @uwiuwi @elenavampire21 @aerangi @hoedameronsworld @whotfatemywaffles @littlebadariell

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now — Ch. 5

Fic Masterlist

Hi! *hides away*

Jokes. This chapter and the next are what made me start writing LAUN, so yes I’m pretty nervous to post 😅

Also thank you @renxzs for coming up with the name Doranelle White Hawks after I spent a whole day thinking of soccer team names HAHAH <33

Warnings: language, incarceration, mentions of drinking, mentions of injuries, Fenrys locked in a bathroom

Words: 5,2k (I’m coming to terms with my big chapters now)

Fenrys had been cackling for the last five minutes. Rowan was just staring at his friend with crossed arms, unamused.

“Dude. "His friend paused to catch his breath, wheezing. “You’re literally in horny jail."

Rowan flexed his jaw. Yeah, he supposed he were.

The worst part was, Rowan saw it coming. The entire time he hooked up with Aelin at his office, he knew it'd end with something like this.

It could've been worse, though. when Colonel Darrow told him, in a carefully controlled tone, that he knew everything and it'd be easier if Rowan assumed what he’d done, he knew he was fucked.

Rowan had to look into the eyes of the man who guided him through his first steps in the Air Force and tell him, in a more polished way, that he’s fucked his niece in every position imaginable the entire time she was his student. Inside base.

He had never felt more raw, unbridled shame.

He could still go to work, even though Rowan couldn’t, under any circumstance, leave his military base. Also, he wasn’t shackled, and he was in the guardhouse that looked like a cheap hotel, not the one that looked like jail. Any form of guardhouse was a huge punishment, but it had different degrees. In some twisted way, Darrow had been generous.

Because, for the first time in his life, Rowan Whitethorn had committed a military crime, and he was currently being locked up for it. Ten days. One for each week he committed improper sexual conduct.

"Dude, did you hit on Lorcan or something? He’d totally lock you up for that kind of shit.”

Fen’s breathing was more steady now. Good for him. Rowan couldn’t have picked a worse person to bring the essentials so he could survive this hell.

“Yes, Fenrys. I was hitting on Lorcan. I don’t know what’s more enticing to me, his wife or the fact that he has a newborn kid.”

“But you did hit on someone.” Fenrys had crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

“Nope.”

He didn’t. He had a very lawful one-night stand with Aelin, then she threw herself at him and he fell for it hook, line and sinker, because that woman is a fucking Venus flytrap.

"You hit on Darrow?"

"I would not, under any circumstance, hit on Colonel Darrow."

Fen snorted. "His niece?”

Rowan flexed his jaw.

Fenrys' eyes widened.

"You totally hit on his niece." His mouth opened to speak, but he didn’t because his jaw completely fell. "No, you fucked his niece. She’s the reason you've been getting home late, isn’t she?"

Rowan’s hands were balled into fists. Thinking about everything he did because of that girl made his limbs twitch.

“Holy Mala.” It took a few seconds for Fenrys to have a proper reaction. “Man, that girl is related to two people. A colonel and the Brigadier. She's the forbidden fruits' forbidden fruit. Not even I am that dumb, and you know I love forbidden fruit."

"I knew it then.” He gestured around his cell. "And I clearly know it now.”

"I can't believe I was the proper instructor this entire time.”

Rowan closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath as he tried to not snap at his friend.

"You weren’t, under any circumstance—“

“I totally was. I can even go by Lieutenant Goody Two-Shoes.”

“Fenrys, I know you let the newbies play with the guns while quoting James Bond—”

“You’re just pissed I out-goody-two-shooed you.” Fenrys crossed his arms, but held a glazed look on his face. “God, I didn’t even hit on Galathynius’ boyfriend, trying not to fuck up.”

Rowan glared. “Can we please not talk about her boyfri—“

“Shit, man. Sorry. I didn’t know you liked her.”

“I don’t,” he hissed.

“You sure? I can totally steal her man if it’ll make you feel better.”

Rowan checked the bag Fenrys brought him. Everything he needed was there.

“Thank you, Fenrys,” he hinted while looking him in the eye. A clear dismissal.

It wasn’t his friend’s fault, though. Maybe Rowan would laugh about this with him someday, but not today.

Today, his thoughts were on the fact that Aelin Galathynius was the worst mistake of his fucking life. And wanting to never see her again was definitely the reason she came through the same door Fenrys left seconds before, guided by a sergeant.

He held a finger up before she could seat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Aelin flinched, but sat anyway. “I need to talk to you.”

“Didn’t you talk enough with your uncles already?”

“About that…” Aelin scratched the back of her neck, cheeks flushing. “I did tell them we had a fling, why would you tell them the details?”

Rowan saw red. She knew damn well the reason that got him such bad punishment was the place it all happened, and there was no way she’d get to pretend she didn’t snitch him.

“Why would I lie to Darrow when he made it clear he knew everything? He’d just double my days here until I confessed.”

She slowly nodded, running both hands through her hair. “He told you he knew everything without telling you what everything means, showed you absolutely no proof of it, then you just confessed without questioning?”

“Yes.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Gods, Rowan, how can you be so stupid? You fell right into Darrow’s trap!”

“I thought you’d told him!”

“I didn’t tell him shit!”

Rowan rubbed his face and took a deep breath. “So how does he know?”

“About that.” Aelin’s face flushed, and she fidgeted with her fingers for a moment before continuing, “I didn’t get to do my exam last Friday, did you hear about that?”

Rowan nodded. “News ran fast. I thought you knew better than to be on drugs and in the military at the same time.”

It was easy to assume, since the tox screen is the main reason newbies don’t pass that stage. It was hard to believe Aelin would be so dumb, but he didn’t know her. After what happened today, Rowan came to the conclusion he didn’t know her at all.

“I don’t do drugs, I-“ she took a deep breath, and her vulnerable blue eyes worked like daggers pointed at him. “They didn’t let me do the physical exam because I’m pregnant.”

Objectively, this was a better reason than drugs. It didn’t feel like it, though.

She got rid of Rowan, got her dream job, and is starting a family while he got his career stained forever by this.

“Congratulations. Your boyfriend must be thrilled.”

Aelin flinched as if he’d slapped her, and that expression alone told him she didn’t know he knows she'd been dating someone while seeing him.

“Actually…” she swallowed. “Dorian has a vasectomy, and he wasn’t in town during the… possible conception days.” She cringed. “Biologically, you’re the father.”

Rowan’s eyes bulged, then his body froze completely.

Father.

He was going to be a father.

Time slowed down, and he couldn’t seem to believe his ears.

It was unexpected, of course, especially because of Aelin’s situation—

Wait a second.

“Did loverboy not want the baby? Is that why you’re here?”

Silence stretched for too long, and Rowan saw her surprised face morph into something else he hadn’t seen before on her.

“You know what, Rowan?” Aelin shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t need you for shit. I have my family’s support. I have money to raise a fuckton of children. If you’re waiting for me to crawl and beg you to do your fucking job, that’s not gonna happen.” She adjusted her purse around her shoulders and got up. “I’m having a baby. It has your genes. You can be as much of a dad you want, or not at all.”

Her words sent a new wave of heat through his body, making him stand as well to stop her.

Rowan would be a father to this kid, she would be sure of that. Even if he lived in an alternative universe where he didn’t want it, he would father the shit out of this kid just to piss Aelin off.

“Seriously? Do I look like some deadbeat dad to you?”

“I. Don’t. Know!” Aelin screamed. “I just got knocked up by a stranger!”

Rowan froze, letting that word sink in and start a riot inside his body.

Stranger? Stranger?

After seeking him out every goddamned evening for more than two months, she has the nerve to call him a stranger?

“What the fuck was this?” Rowan shouted. “Just a courtesy nod? Did you even expect anything from me before you came here?”

She didn’t answer.

Nowadays, it seemed like anything Aelin did made him ache. She had a point, though. They didn’t know each other very well. He still couldn’t believe she thought he’d abandon her in a situation like this.

“I don’t know!” Aelin groaned, pacing around the room and running both hands through her head. “I didn’t get much time to think. I thought maybe you’d want to see the kid every other weekend or—“

“Every other weekend?” He sneered. “Do I look like the every other weekend type to you?”

“Rowan, listen—“

“No, you listen. Don’t you come here telling me I’m becoming a father just to offer me every other weekend!” He crossed his arms, face flat. “I want to see your exams, all of them. I will be to every doctor appointment, I’ll make meal plans because I remember you telling me you survive on chocolate cake—“

“You don’t get to say a word about my chocolate cake!” She screamed, interrupting him. “Neither do you get to talk down to me! You don’t get to order me around, because I’m not a fucking surrogate mother you hired to bear your child!” Aelin paused, catching her breath while she leaned closer to him. “And whatever you decide, you’ll be lucky if I even tell you when the baby is due if you don’t treat me, the mother of your child, with respect. Do you hear me, Lieutenant?”

He did, but didn’t get to tell her so.

Aelin turned around and banged the door closed, leaving him alone to think about whatever the hell had just happened.

˜˜

“SAVE YOURSELF!” Maisie warned her best friend from the top of the playground tower as they played… something.

Like most weekends, Rowan and Lorcan took the kids to the playground in front of both of their houses, since their streets were perpendicular to one another. As much as he liked to pay attention to his daughter’s shenanigans, Rowan’s head was somewhere else today. The kids looked safe, and Lorcan was there watching them too. It would have to be enough for now.

"Am I supposed to give advice? Or just listen?"

Rowan sighed. He had just told Lorcan how he and Aelin were successfully doing that thing where they traumatized their daughter until she becomes an unruly teenager who drinks alcohol at school and smokes weed with a guitarist that pretends to be a feminist to make Rowan’s worst nightmares come true. No. This is stopping now.

Except that last Friday, when they left Maisie at Orlon’s to talk after that meeting, it was a shit show.

Rowan said it was her fault because she never listens to him. Aelin screamed that he is the one who never listens to her. Rowan replied, in a strident tone, that Maisie would be better off if he were only doing things his way like she claimed.

Things went extremely downhill from there. It was one of their most unproductive exchanges.

He dropped Maisie at Lorcan’s the next day to talk again, but she wasn’t home.

Now it was Sunday, and he could only hope Aelin would show up at the game watch party Aedion talked him into hosting.

"Advice.” Rowan was just that desperate.

Lorcan shrugged. "Ellie thinks family therapy would help. I agree with her."

"You always agree with her."

"She's always right, man."

Rowan sighed. Of course Elide would think that. She's a psychiatrist. These people think anything can be cured with a few hours of counseling.

"I think I'll stick to my initial plan."

"Your brilliant plan of not fighting?" Lorcan raised an eyebrow.

Rowan crossed his arms. "My brilliant plan of not provoking or letting myself be provoked. It's pure self-control.“ He shuffled his feet. ”I can do that."

"Your plan is shit."

"I don't need it to be perfect, I need it to work.”

“Okay.” Lorcan ran a hand through his hair. "But you think you'll manage to never have a fight with Aelin again after five years of unresolved shit?"

"Yes," Rowan said through gritted teeth. God, he was tired of explaining his perfectly laid-out plan.

He wasn’t saying it’d be easy. He knew he wouldn’t. But if refusing to fight didn’t work, Rowan had no idea what the fuck he’d do. Because the only other option would be to continue to hurt his little girl, and just the thought of it made his ribs close so tight it left a deep hollow inside him.

Just like clockwork, Aelin showed up at the playground holding a weird white thing. Maisie found her first, running her mother’s way and hugging her legs with a blissful smile on her face.

Aelin crouched to talk to the kids first, sending the adults a small wave from afar.

“Go.” Lorcan elbowed him. “I’ve got ‘em.”

Rowan nodded, rolled his shoulders and went their way. He couldn’t hear it from where he was initially at, but Maisie was telling her mom something.

“Is that right?” Aelin smiled. “Why do you love trees?”

“‘Cause they become toilet paper!” Her little limbs were excitedly waving in the air. “And if we didn’t have toilet paper, everyone would have dirty bums all the time.”

Rowan cleared his throat, and Maisie took a sharp turn his way.

“Daddy! I was teaching trees to mom.”

He clamped his lips together, since trying to look serious to his daughter was a skill he mastered a long time ago. Of course Maisie would learn something new at school and think she’s the only person in the world who knows that information.

“Yeah?” He swallowed, remembering what he needed to say. “Mais, why don’t you tell that to Uncle Lorcan while your mother and I talk for a second?”

Maisie’s limbs went limp by her side. Her little green eyes cautiously darted between the two of them.

Surprisingly enough, it was Lorcan’s kid who spoke on her behalf.

“I want to keep playing,” Charlie insisted, eyes furrowed.

“Yeah!” Maisie immediately backed him up, mirroring her best friend’s body language.

“Oh, but you will.” Aelin smiled at the kids’ protest. “Lorcan will stay here with you now, then you can play here until it’s time for the game.”

Maisie seemed content enough, but Lorcan’s son frowned. It was no secret that Charlie didn’t share his father’s love for sports.

“Dad and I already watched a game this week.”

“We’re watching another one,” Rowan explained.

Charlie huffed. “Who knows the ways of men?”

Rowan snorted, immediately recognizing the quote from Frozen 2.

The walk to his place was slower than it could’ve been if the reminder of what did and was about to happen wasn’t looming like a dark cloud above them.

“What’s that?” Rowan asked while fishing his keys out of his pocket.

“Oh.” Aelin’s eyebrow raised as if she’d just remembered she was carrying this white fabric all along. When she opened it, holding with both opened arms, it made even less sense.

“A table cloth?”

She grimaced. “I don’t have an actual white flag, and the napkin seemed too small for the occasion.”

Rowan felt a brittle patch of warmth underneath the whole turmoil he was feeling inside. This very literal white flag would probably be the closest thing to an apology he was ever getting, so he’d appreciate it.

After leading her to the kitchen, Rowan frowned at his table, considering his options, but handed her the cloth that was there.

“A light green flag?” Her eyebrows went up.

Rowan sighed. “My white cloths are either ruined or so far from Maisie’s reach I’ll need stairs to get them.”

Aelin snorted, a feeble smile on her face while she fumbled with his cloth, eyeing the juice stain in it from this morning.

“I went to your place yesterday.”

“Dorian and I threw a pity party. I would’ve stayed home if I knew you were coming, though.”

“It’s alright.” He bit the inside of his cheek and thinking of a good approach. “I figured out a plan to fix our… situation.”

“Go on.”

“We have to stop fighting.”

“I know.” Aelin gave him a firm nod “What’s your plan?”

“That’s it. We’ll stop fighting.”

“I—“ Aelin’s mouth closed. And opened. And closed again. “Rowan, you do realize how…” she trailed, carefully placing her words. “Flawed this plan is, right?”

“I think it’ll work.”

“Okay…” she ran a hand through her head, and Rowan worked to keep his breathing steady the long seconds she was just examining the walls and biting her lip. “Considering what you told me last Friday—“

“I said a lot of things I don’t mean last Friday.”

*I doubt that*, Aelin seemed to say with one wounded look she quickly concealed.

“You told me I don’t listen to you. I’ll try to get better at that.”

Rowan nodded, his eyes soft.

“We’ll try your plan, even if I don’t fully agree with it” she continued, “But if it doesn’t work, you’ll have to go along with my plan, okay?”

Aelin didn’t tell him what her plan was, but he agreed because there was no way it wouldn’t work. If neither of them provoked each other, there would be no fight. It was a logical thing, and it had already worked with them in the past.

His plan was foolproof.

“So it’s settled?”

“It’s settled.” Aelin said after a second of hesitancy. “We’ll restrain ourselves so we never have a fight again.”

“For Maisie.” Rowan extended a hand, and she shook it.

“For Maisie.”

They looked each other in the eye, holding each other’s hands for a little too long before she pulled it, reminding him of something.

“There’s this other thing I wanted to ask you.”

“Go on.”

“It’s about the wine thing. I’ve been thinking—”

She held a hand up to stop him. “Look, that meeting made it sound a lot worse than it actually is. It’s not a daily habit or anything. It’s just that…” Aelin pulled a chair and sat holding her head in one hand. She sighed. “Have you ever felt like you keep waiting your whole work day to end so you can be at home, but when you finally get home, you can’t stop thinking about work?”

Rowan frowned. He pulled another chair for himself and turned so he could face Aelin. Well, he used to feel like that. A lifetime ago, when he was working for the Air Force as an engineer. There was a reason he changed jobs, though. This week, the biggest headache he had was Lorcan getting pissed because one of the newbies was seen wearing regular sneakers at base.

“I thought you liked your job.”

“I do. I really do. I studied for almost a decade to be here, but sometimes I get home stressed out.” Aelin crossed her arms, not looking him in the eye. “Sometimes I’m just angry because a nurse did a shit job. Sometimes I have to tell a nineteen-year-old that just enlisted that they lost their leg while working. Sometimes I have to see some officer’s little kid completely fucked up because of some stupid shit and can’t stop thinking that it could’ve been Maisie.” Aelin’s voice broke in the end, so she stopped and looked at the ceiling. Taking deep breaths.

Rowan focused his whole being on every word she said, from the ache he felt to the pulse that seemed to beat on the rhythm of her words. He wanted to grasp every feeling she’d try to hide from him later. He wanted to ask her so many things. If any of this had been recent, why did she never mention any of it to him. He didn’t, though. He knew she wasn’t the type to open up easily, and he was scared to say anything that would shatter this fragile moment they were having.

“It’s never much, though.” Aelin continued, “And I’m never not present for Maisie. She was just extra interested because it’s the one thing in my kitchen she can’t have.”

“I still don’t know how I feel about this.” Rowan sighed. He wanted to at least sound more supportive after she opened up, but this conversation was still about their very little girl.

“That’s understandable.” Aelin slowly nodded, biting her lip and looking at a blank spot on the wall. “I can stop if it’s important to you.”

“Just on the days Maisie is with you,” he conceded. “Elide might have my head if you stop altogether.”

“Well, she already says you ruined her sex life. You can’t ruin Girls’ Night too.”

They let out a bittersweet chuckle, and something on Rowan’s chest eased to see Aelin in a slightly brighter mood. Also, to know they were having an actual conversation instead of screaming nonsense at each other.

“Can I ask you something too?”

“What?” He frowned.

“You asked me to stop drinking around Maisie. Now I want to ask you something too.”

“Oh…” Rowan trailed, scattering his brain for something he might’ve done wrong. “Go on.”

“I want you to take care of yourself,” Aelin’s tone was firm as she adjusted her posture and looked deep into his eyes.

Rowan’s mouth opened and closed before he spoke. “I take care of myself.”

“No, you keep yourself alive and take care of Maisie.” Aelin fidgeted with a beaded bracelet she made with their daughter. “I was hoping we could talk about what happened that other Friday.”

When he went to the hospital. Just mentioning it made his body temperature rise.

“That day was just a false alarm, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring this up again.”

Aelin looked as if he’d slapped her. Rowan would understand this reaction if he was truly denying something after she opened up to him, but that was not the case.

Honestly? He blamed Cortland for implying that Rowan had anxiety in front of Aelin. The doctor was just bitter after things ended with her, and said that to make him look bad. That was the only explanation.

Rowan doesn’t have a disorder. He’s just a concerned father who had an erratic heartbeat after a stressful moment. It’s merely being human.

“Okay…” Aelin nodded. “It’s not just about that day.” She took a deep breath and fully turned to him. “Remember that day when Maisie got sick and you called me asking how to give her the meds? Because you couldn’t read the leaflet?”

It had been three, maybe four months ago. Rowan crossed his arms. “What about it?”

“Did you go to the eye doctor?”

”I’m fine.” He crossed his arms. “That leaflet’s font was just too small.”

“Unlock your phone.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

He did it, letting her quickly examine his screen before she looked back at him with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

“The size of the text on your phone is so big I could read it from across the street. This is not a screen of someone who has good reading vision.”

Rowan gaped, not knowing what to say and wondering how she came up with this. Fuck, maybe Aelin was why Maisie was a smartie, as she liked to say herself.

His eyes widened with the realization of something.

“Do you think that’s why Maisie’s struggling to read? Because she need an eye doctor?”

Aelin’s jaw went slack. “Can you hear yourself?” Rowan blinked, not understanding, and she rolled her eyes. “You can’t focus on yourself for twenty seconds before making it about Maisie, Rowan. No, that’s not the reason she can’t read. The teacher said she can recognize letters, remember?”

“Yeah, she did.” He sighed, shoulders relaxing. “So it’s settled. You’ll stop drinking when Maisie is at your place. I’ll see the eye doctor.”

”Actually, the eye doctor was just an example.”

“Do you want me to go to the eye doctor or not?”

“It’s not about me wanting something, Rowan, you should…” she took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what? Okay. No fights, no wine, you’ll go to the eye doctor.”

“We got this.” They firmly shook each other’s hands again to seal this new phase.

˜˜

The living room had seven adults, and the only way they could keep an eye on the children and watch the game at the same time was by placing the play mat between the couch and the TV.

He complained at first when Aedion invited the whole crew to watch the game at Rowan’s house, but he didn’t mind now. In fact, he even liked it. Not only it was a good distraction from this hellish weekend, but it was also entertaining to see Fenrys getting pissed because he missed a goal when he went to the kitchen.

Aedion suggested Fenrys brings bad luck to the game, since the only goal has been while he was away. No one disagreed.

While Charlie was there just to play and because his parents made him, Maisie had her attention divided between her friend and the game. As much attention as a four-year-old could have, actually.

Rowan didn’t know if Maisie actually liked soccer or if she just picked up on her family’s excitement every time an important game is on, but he loved it anyway. Today, he even asked Aelin to come earlier so she could braid Maisie’s hair with ribbons on the team’s color. Rowan sighed. Every time he learned a new hairstyle, his daughter came up with something even more elaborate. It took him almost a month to get the french braid right, but now Maisie wanted it with ribbons.

She looked so damn cute with it, though. He’d probably end up on another Youtube tutorial.

Besides, a smile crosses Rowan’s face every time she wears the Doranelle White Hawks jersey he buys whenever she grows out of one.

”NO!” Maisie screamed, dramatically raising her hands and surprising them all. “Keep your eye on the pie!”

“It’s prize, Munchkin,” Fenrys corrected around a smile, but his eyes were still glued to the TV.

“That’s what I said,” the little girl defended herself, eyes narrowed at her uncle.

Unable to restrain himself and respect his preschooler’s drive for independence, Rowan picked his daughter up and smacked a kiss on her cheek. Luckily, she just giggled and nestled in his lap.

“I’ll be right back,” Fenrys announced and left the room.

The second he closed the bathroom door shut, Athril seized the ball and started to run towards the goal.

“OH MY GOD,” Elide exclaimed, and Lorcan rubbed her upper arm without looking away from the TV.

“WHAT?” Fen screamed from the bathroom.

“DON’T LET HIM OUT!” Aedion roared, pointing a finger in the bathroom’s direction.

Rowan wasn’t one for sports superstition, but he wouldn’t object.

Dorian got up and went the bathroom’s way so fast he stumbled and almost fell, but never gave up. He stood there, holding the handle from one side while Fenrys banged on the door from the other.

“LET ME OUT! I WANT TO SEE THE GAME!” Fen screamed, but one one listened.

It was hard to pay attention on anything else than Athril dribbling each and every one of his opponents, showing off his skills until—

“GOOOOAL,” they screamed in unison, getting up from their seats to cheer.

Fenrys came back running, but instead of complaining, he lit up when he saw the goal’s replay. Picking Dorian up, he cheered alongside everyone else.

Maisie was screaming and twirling on the floor, and even little Charlie looked content. Also, Rowan didn’t miss it the way his daughter tugged on her mother’s leg, whispered something in her ear, and then Aelin left for the kitchen.

“What did Mais want?” He asked after following her.

“Just sandwiches for her and Charlie.”

Rowan nodded, pointed at the bread on his counter and opened the fridge to get the other ingredients.

“Why don’t you throw this away?”

Aelin was frowning at the bread pack. Her hand was going over the first slice of the loaf of bread, picking the other ones the kids would accept.

“What?”

“This crusty slice of bread.”

“Are you bothered by it?”

Sighing, she turned to him. “Actually, yes. It’s like this whole barrier I have to go through before getting to the slice of bread Maisie will eat.”

“Maybe I just don’t throw things away as easily as you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just told me to throw away not one, but the two ends of the bread just because it looks too crusty to you.“ Rowan shrugged. ”I don’t like throwing food away just because.”

“But you won’t eat it!” Aelin’s tone was gradually rising. “You won’t eat the slice, you’ll just break it in crumbs as you go over it to reach for the other slices, and it’ll end up in the trash anyway!”

“Why do you hate the crusty slice so bad?” His jaw was already set by this point, eyes shooting daggers at her.

“Because I don’t like crusty bread!” Aelin screamed. “I like my bread fluffy and comfortable! Why in hell would I settle for crusty bread?”

Rowan felt his blood ringing in his ears. “Well, maybe I don’t want another slice of bread! Maybe I want my crusty bread because it’s mine! Flawed as it is.”

“You’re not even eating that fucking slice! You’re just stringing it along, inside your little bread pack, until it breaks completely and you inevitably throw it away.” Aelin was gesticulating each time more, coming closer to him as well.

Rowan crossed his arms. “I would never throw my slice of bread away. And if you think—“

“Oh, really? Then what did you do to all the other crusty slices from your other packs?”

“THEY’RE IN HIS MAMA’S ASS,” Elide interrupted, voice louder than any of them as she banged the kitchen’s door closed. “Are you two serious right now?”

Rowan’s frenetic heart seemed to sink into his stomach.

Their agreement to never fight ever again had lasted five hours.

He bowed his head, refusing to meet any of the women in the eye. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking of something to say, even though he knew he should be apologizing.

“I’ll finish the sandwiches, you can—“

Elide crossed her arms. “No, I am making the sandwiches, because you are so busy screaming at each other you forgot to feed the kids.” She shook her head, cursing under her breath. “Now you two will go sit at opposite ends of the living room because I ain’t going anywhere before the White Hawks win, so you’ll have to behave for once. Understood?”

“Sure,” Aelin mumbled. Rowan still wouldn’t look at her.

He nodded.

After they went to the living room, everything seemed normal. Everyone acted like nothing had happened, but Rowan knew better.

No matter what the subject was, he always felt the same after fighting with Aelin. The heated skin, tense muscles, replaying arguments inside his head.

It felt different this time.

After this fight, he felt nothing but shame.

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[pollywiltse]

Find A Grave has an entry for a Peter Laune who was born in 1750 and died in 1786 in New York, but I don't think it can be André's Peter Laune because Find A Grave also claims he had a son who was born in 1775 in France. I suppose it's possible that he is André's Laune and he was just the servant that André had at the time of his execution, but I think that's a reach. I think it would take more work that I want to do - and possibly access to records that aren't digitized - to trace André's Laune, but it's kind of annoying me that out of Ronald, Hatch, and Flexner, only Hatch even has an entry in the index for him. And it's just in reference to the execution.

I feel like it's really easy to forget how constantly these guys had servants with them because people then didn't think it worth mentioning because of course they did and people now don't have personal servants so it's not in one's mental image of, like, André and Despard being prisoners of war in the wilds of Pennsylvania until someone mentions in passing that they had their servants with them. (And trunks full of all their toys. I still think the way 18th century prisoners of war were treated is the funniest thing ever - sign this paper saying you'll be good and we'll let you wander around outside town with firearms. You're all adorable.)

Like had any of these guys ever combed their own hair in their lives? If you handed André a hairbrush and asked him if he knew what to do with it, would he be like, "Yes, I give it to my servant and he brushes my hair"?

(Also note that if you're having some servant put their hands in your hair every day, you're not going to have anywhere near the same ideas about privacy or personal space that modern people are, which I feel like is another thing that's easy to forget.)

Anyway Laune is a Huguenot (or maybe just a French?) name, so I'm curious if that was a coincidence (or if he even had recent French ancestry; John Despard was also of Huguenot descent but it seems to have been pretty far back) or if André wanted someone he could, like, speak French with.

[coffeeheartaddict2]

Power to Overcome

Book: Open Heart (post series)

Pairing: Casey Ramsey, Aurora Emery

Word count: 835

Category: fluff

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Summary: Aurora and Casey receive news that the book they want to write together has been approved for publishing.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry

Authors note: Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge Prompt will appear in bold. Prompt used is Good news.

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

March 2039.

Since their residency ended in 2021 Dr Casey Ramsey and Dr Aurora Emery had being kicking all sorts of career goals. Casey was still the head of Diagnostics and the Naveen Banerji clinic and Aurora was the head of the Delores Hudson family and sexual health clinic that was located in one of the more disadvantaged areas of Boston. There were many times where both clinics joined forces with various health initiatives to get better health outcomes, not only for those who were disadvantaged economically but for those who were people of colour, those who identified as lgbtqi and other minorities who were misrepresented in low health outcomes.

By now Ethan had stood down as Chief,citing family reasons and was more than happy to work as an attending on Casey’s team. Ethan could not be any more proud of how Casey has gone in her career if he tried. He knew she had reservations early on in her career, being his Mentee did cast a shadow but she shone bright from the outset. Herself and Tobias worked well early on to maintain the team’s reputation and recruited well, they expanded into research and Casey was leading the team medically full time and this is when she fully shone. Sure there were naysayers, there always had been, especially after the attack when word of their relationship got out but many changed their tune after working with the team for which all were relieved.

Aurora had her own career shadow to deal with too, being the niece of Harper Emery, but she too worked hard not only to prove the naysayers wrong but to show she was a force in her own right.

Casey and Aurora worked well individually and together as a team, they were often invited to schools for Career day talks and to encourage more females and persons of colour into not only medicine but Sciences in general.

One day however, Casey had a thought. A thought to write another book. She had already co-authored a book with Ethan about the advocacy work she had done with women’s health. That book was a success. She met with Aurora to float her idea.

“All the talks we do to high school students are well and good but I think we can do better and write a book. Both of us have had to deal with the misogyny in the medical field, both overt and subtle. We have both had accusations of being favoured by Nepotism. I was thinking of writing a book of how we both overcame such obstacles and hope that it will encourage not only medical students to continue their studies but interns and residents to continue.”

“That does sound good, I would like to add a chapter about racism also.”

“Agreed,” said Casey, “I will let you write that the outcomes at the Delores Hudson clinic speak volumes to people who see people like themselves professionally.”

“Indeed, when you recommended me I was apprehensive but I did understand your reasoning and you are right, we have a diverse staff that reflects that area of Boston and I think it is why we have had the great results we have had.

Over the coming weeks Casey and Aurora met to plan their pitch to the publisher. Both felt it was a solid pitch but they are nervous. They have a meeting with the publisher and it is good news.

The publisher agreed to publish the book.

The next six months is a blur of research, writing, not to mention the demands of work and family but by the end there was a draft ready for editing. Over the next month it was edited and slight alterations made. Casey and Aurora decided to call the book Power to Overcome.

It is finally published and in December 2039, Power to Overcome was launched at Edenbrook Hospital. There was plenty of excitement, Professors from Harvard, Grossman, John Hopkins and Yale were all in attendance. Caroline Bloom and Naveen also came along for the launch also. Harper was very proud of both Casey and Aurora for not only what they had achieved but for writing about it. Both Ethan and Tobias were very proud of their colleagues also. The launch was a success and the new year brought about the publicity circuit for the book.

Both Aurora and Casey during the tour could not believe how well their book was received. On tour they had heard stories from many medical students and former residents who had dropped out or were thinking of dropping out because of the misogyny and racism but their book had inspired them to keep on going.

Power to Overcome became a best seller, this shocked but also pleased Casey and Aurora and not only did it have the desired effect of inspiring those in the medical and scientific fields but also those in other male dominated professions also and that was one outcome that Casey and Aurora did not expect and for that they were pleased.

Tagging: @jerzwriter @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @cariantha @tessa-liam @bex-la-get @a-crepusculo @crazy-loca-blog @lucy-268 @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesmonthlychallenge @openheartfanfics

[daughterofhecata]

late to the party but 6 & 24 for the Dad!AU, 14, 47 for the mafia!AU & 49 if you still wanna answer? c:

[questions for fic writers]

of course <3

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

I mean, since it's still a work in progress, I can probably fit most of the details still into the story that I wanna mention. But one thing that I'm not yet sure about how to work in is that Hannah (Kelly's wife) quit studying medicine specifically because of burnout/because the pressure was too high and she made the decision she didn't want to deal with that anymore and she's happier taking family/wedding/etc pictures and taking care of the house and their daughter.

24. Are there any easter eggs in [insert fic], and if so, what are they?

Well, I am name dropping a few canon characters here and there xD And also some references to some of Tiargo's fic. But nothing to specific, not like the cases in your AU xD

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

A lot of specific AUs, because I'm not always a fan of AUs and need to trust the author to read them. Also, *if* I read Peter/Bob, it's from someone I know. Also stuff like soulmate AUs etc.

47. If [insert fic] was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.

Hmm, I think it would be a pair of boots - sturdy, but just "elegant" enough not to look out of place with a suit. Black leather, obviously, comfortable, carefully maintained, but also with some (stiched over?) tears in the lining inside.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

I'm sorta writing, sorta not writing this thing about Skinny seeing Justus in a suit and his brain short-circuting, which got surprisingly more heartfelt and soft rather than horny, you're getting a bit of that:

"Wusste gar nicht, dass du rauchst", brachte er endlich heraus. Mit etwas wie Bedauern betrachtete Justus die Kippe zwischen seinen Fingern. "Tue ich normalerweise auch nicht", erwiderte er. "Aber?" Ganz sicher war Skinny sich selbst nicht, warum er nachfragte. War schließlich nicht so, als wären sie Freunde, oder als wäre er normalerweise an Jonas' Leben interessiert, soweit es darüber hinaus ging, wie er Skinny in die Quere kommen könnte. Oder andersherum. Aber er fragte trotzdem. Weil er diese Haltung kannte, die leicht hochgezogenen Schultern, die Hand mit der Zigarette vor der Brust wie einen Schild. Für einen langen Moment sah Justus ihn nur an, als müsste er erst noch herausfinden, ob Skinny es ernst meinte oder ob er sich bei der nächsten sich bietenden Gelegenheit über ihn lustig machen würde. Doch anscheinend kam er heute vertrauenswürdig genug rüber, denn Justus seufzte mit klarer Kapitulation.

But also, have a bit of the reunion fake dating fic as well, because the snippet I shared yesterday only represents one half of the tone in that story. This is the other half:

Je dichter sie seiner Geburtsstadt kamen, desto stiller wurde Cotta. Alles hier war ihm immer noch vertraut, und wenig davon gefiel ihm. Selbst Orientierungspunkte, mit denen er eigentlich keine schlechten Erinnerungen verband, verstärkten das schwere, drückende Gefühl in seinem Magen nur. All das hatte er schon längst hinter sich lassen wollen, und je näher er dem Ort kam, desto mehr spürte er, wie die alte Bitterkeit wieder in ihm aufstieg und er musste sich der Erkenntnis stellen, dass er mit nichts davon je wirklich abgeschlossen hatte. Goodween merkte garantiert, wie seine Laune in den Keller ging, Goodween merkte sowas immer, doch er kommentierte es nicht, und Cotta war dankbar dafür.

[except4bunnies]

Und da grüßt das Murmeltier wieder 🙂 Hoffe du hast noch Lust und Laune 😊

33, 40, 42, 43, 49 & 50 🥰

Immer wieder gerne :)

33. Is there a specific word count that you hold yourself to/enjoy writing the most?

I like one shots and around 1000 words seemed to be often enough for me in the past. Nowadays I try to write a tad bit more. If I write around 2500-3000 words for a one shot I‘m often quite satisfied with the result.

40. What is your favorite world that you’ve created for a fic?

I‘ve only really created the police academy world for Julia Grosz, Ela Erol and Olaf Spieß and I like that world. It’s a mix and match of real places I know. I did a summer school thing back when I was at university and the Wohnheim is roughly based on a real place where I stayed back then and the lake, on the other hand, is based on a lake that is close to me here in Hamburg. And the hay bale Julia and Ela sit on exists, too, in my memory. Oh, but now that I think about it, the world that I created with Julia (often grumpy), Falke (often grumpy), Okonjo (always helping and carrying folders) and Reetz (always smoking and horny and even finding Julia hot) and their office with the sad plant and so on, I enjoy very much. That evolved through different stories. And, oh, now that I think a bit more about it, I do enjoy the Coffee Shop AU world, too. It’s close enough to the real Tatort universe that I might revisit it again, soon :)

42. What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

Mmh … I‘m not really good with titles. I do like „Zusammen schläft man weniger allein“ because it’s a bit silly while totally true. But it‘s obviously a rip-off of a popular book title, so I‘m just a copy-cat here. Many moons ago I wrote a „The 100“ fic and called it „Piano Kid“. That‘s a decent title, I think.

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

Lots! I wanna write a „5 things fic“. I wanna write something around „Tödliche Flut“. I would love to write a cozy crime or Noir related to Tatort Hamburg. I would love to write a „Derry Girls“ fanfiction but that‘s close to impossible as a non native speaker, I think. I would find it hilarious if Julia Grosz met Miriam Hintz („Tage die es nicht gab“) and sparks would fly :D

49. What fic of yours would you say is the best introduction to you as a writer?

„Licht und Schatten“ for the more serious stories and „Pack die Badehose ein“ for the more humorous stuff. The last one is more „me“ in terms of writing in other areas of my life, too, for better or worse.

50. How would you describe your writing style?

Maybe … meticulously? I try to look for the right words for any situation I ike to describe and I try to give every reader the information s/he needs even if s/he didn’t watch every episode of Tatort Hamburg or didn’t read another fanfiction I wrote. But it should not be boring for people who may read almost everything :) So I will always explain what happened to Julia in Afghanistan if it‘s important to the story but I do try to do it a bit differently every time I mention it. And I will always introduce Julia and Falke as working partners and so on.

[pratanumindpowerdevelopment]

how to make a youtube video viral

Making a YouTube video go viral involves a mix of strategy, creativity, and understanding your audience. While there’s no guaranteed formula, certain practices can significantly increase the chances of your video gaining widespread attention. Here’s a comprehensive guide to help you create a video with viral potential:

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Hook Viewers Quickly: Capture attention in the first few seconds. The introduction should be compelling and clearly communicate what viewers can expect.

Tell a Story: Make sure your video has a clear narrative or message. Whether it’s educational, entertaining, or inspirational, a well-told story resonates with viewers.

High Production Quality: Ensure good video and audio quality. Use proper lighting, clear sound, and high-resolution visuals.

2. Optimize for Search and Discovery

Use Relevant Keywords: Research and include keywords in your title, description, and tags. Tools like Google Trends or TubeBuddy can help identify trending keywords.

Craft a Catchy Title: Your title should be engaging and include your main keywords. Avoid clickbait, but make sure it’s intriguing.

Create a Compelling Thumbnail: Design a visually appealing thumbnail that accurately represents your video. Bright colors, bold text, and expressive faces can help attract clicks.

3. Engage with Your Audience

Encourage Interaction: Ask viewers to like, comment, and subscribe. Engage with comments and questions to build a community.

Include Call-to-Actions (CTAs): Direct viewers on what to do next, whether it’s watching another video, subscribing, or sharing the content.

4. Leverage Social Media and Communities

Share Across Platforms: Promote your video on social media, forums, and relevant online communities. Tailor your promotion strategy for each platform.

Collaborate with Influencers: Partner with influencers or creators who have a large following in your niche. They can help share your video with a broader audience.

5. Utilize Trends and Challenges

Tap into Trends: Create content around current trends, memes, or viral challenges. Ensure the content aligns with your channel’s theme and audience interests.

Participate in Challenges: Engage in popular challenges or create your own. This can increase visibility and encourage user-generated content.

6. Monitor and Analyze Performance

Track Metrics: Use YouTube Analytics to monitor performance metrics like watch time, click-through rates, and audience retention.

Adjust Strategy: Based on your analytics, adjust your content and promotion strategies to better meet your audience’s preferences.

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Timing Matters: Release your videos when your target audience is most active. Use YouTube Analytics to determine optimal posting times.

8. Create Shareable Content

Evoke Emotion: Content that evokes strong emotions—whether laughter, awe, or inspiration—is more likely to be shared.

Make It Useful: Create valuable content that viewers feel compelled to share with others, such as how-to guides, tips, or insightful information.

9. Engage in Cross-Promotion

Feature Your Video: Mention your video in other content, such as blog posts, newsletters, or other videos on your channel.

Collaborate with Other Creators: Work with other YouTubers or content creators to reach their audience and drive traffic to your video.

10. Paid Promotion

Invest in Ads: Consider using YouTube’s advertising options to promote your video to a targeted audience. This can boost visibility and drive initial views.

Example Steps for a Video Launch:

Pre-Launch:

Tease the video on social media.

Engage with your audience to build anticipation.

Prepare a compelling thumbnail and title.

Launch Day:

Post the video at a time when your audience is most active.

Share the video across all your social media channels.

Engage with viewers through comments and social media.

Post-Launch:

Analyze performance data and adjust your strategy if needed.

Continue to promote the video and engage with viewers.

Consider creating related content or follow-up videos to maintain interest.

While there’s no surefire way to make a video go viral, applying these strategies can significantly increase your chances of success.

[my-islam-reminder]

Narrated Jabir bin `Abdullah رضی اللہ عنہما :

My father died and was in debt. I suggested that his creditors take the fruits (i.e. dates) of my garden in lieu of the debt of my father, but they refused the offer, as they thought that it would not cover the full debt. So, I went to the Prophet (ﷺ) and told him about it. He said (to me), "When you pluck the dates and collect them in the Mirbad (i.e. a place where dates are dried), call me (Allah's Messenger (ﷺ))." Finally he came accompanied by Abu Bakr and `Umar رضی اللہ عنہ and sat on the dates and invoked Allah to bless them. Then he said, "Call your creditors and give them their full rights." So, I paid all my father's creditors in full and yet thirteen extra Wasqs of dates remained, seven of which were 'Ajwa and six were Laun or six of which were Ajwa and seven were Laun. I met Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) at sunset and informed him about it. On that he smiled and said, "Go to Abu Bakr رضی اللہ عنہ and `Umar رضی اللہ عنہ and tell them about it." They said, "We perceived that was going to happen, as Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) did what he did." Hisham said: Wahab has reported the Asr prayer from Hadrat Jabir رضی اللہ عنہ . Moreover, he did not mention Hadrat Abu Bakr and the prophet's laugh. Hadrat Jabir bin Abdullah said: My father left a adept of thirty Wasaqs. Ibn-e-Ishaq said: Wahab has reported the Zuhr prayer from Hadrat Jabir.

Narrated by Sahih Bukhari in his bookImam Bukhari

Hadith (Sahih)

[ao3feed-tatortsaarbruecken]

Ein Toter auf der Parkbank

Read here: Ein Toter auf der Parkbank

by Dani_Magnus

Mit einem Krachen, das Leo zusammenzucken ließ, flog die Tür zu ihrem Büro auf und Pia lugte herein. „Was?“, fragte er gereizt, als Pia nichts sagte, sich nur mit einem dummen Grinsen im Raum umsah. Er hatte heute keinen Nerv für Pias gute Laune, die sie, seit der Sache mit Adams Vater, an den Tag legte. Offenbar hatte der Arsch ihren Kolleginnen nicht, wie Leo in dem Moment befürchtet hatte, erzählt, dass Leo es gewesen war, der ihn vor 15 Jahren ins Koma befördert hatte, oder ihnen gesteckt, dass Adam und Leo gezögert hatten, ihn zu retten, dass sie ihn hatten sterben lassen wollen. Was, zumindest von Leos Seite aus, nicht der Fall gewesen war. Was in Adams Hirn vor sich gegangen war, wusste Leo nicht. Und er war sich ehrlich nicht sicher, ob er es überhaupt wissen wollte. „Wo ist Schürk?“, wollte Pia verwundert wissen. „Nicht da. Siehst du doch.“ „Ist ja schon gut. Ich frage nur, weil wir einen Toten haben.“

Words: 17684, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Deutsch

Fandoms: Tatort (TV 1970)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Adam Schürk, Leo Hölzer, Pia Heinrich, Esther Baumann, Dr. Henny Wenzel, Caro (Tatort Saarbrücken)

Relationships: Leo Hölzer/Adam Schürk

Additional Tags: Tatort Saarbrücken, Spatort, Hörk, Pre-Relationship, Case Fic, post-HdW, adam feels guilty, Leo is annoyed, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of blood and injuries, Adam gets injured, Hospitals, Kidnapping, Worried Leo, feels and thoughts, they take care of each other, Angst with a Happy Ending

from AO3 works tagged 'Leo Hölzer'

[boopathi021]

Top 10 NFT Markets You Should Know About 2023

While most NFT marketplaces available in the industry are built on the Ethereum blockchain, the platforms mentioned in this article are built across other Layer 1 blockchains.

Speaking of which, here is our list of the top 10 best NFT marketplaces for 2022.

1 .OpenSea

OpenSea is by far the largest NFT marketplace in the world by transaction volume. The platform allows users to mint, buy and sell various non-homogeneous tokens, including collectibles, digital art, virtual worlds, trading cards, etc.

It is built on Ethereum but integrates Polygon for lower gas fees. With OpenSea, users can access over 700 NFT items, with over 80 million NFTs available for trading.

The NFT marketplace allows users to mint and set seller profiles for free using its infrastructure. However, it charges a 2.5% fee on every sale on its marketplace.

According to Dune Analytics, OpenSea currently has more than 600,000 users, and it will generate $4.1 billion in sales in 2022 alone. At the time of writing, the most popular NFTs on OpenSea by trading volume are BoredApes, Crypto Punks, and Doodles. open sea like Nft Marketplace Development Platform.

2 .SuperRare

SuperRare is an Ethereum-based NFT marketplace that works with some select and well-known NFT artists. It is a pioneer in exclusive digital art and aims to preserve the culture of digital art collecting.

The marketplace has a rigorous review and approval process before digital artwork is listed for sale.

SuperRare aims to unleash the creativity of a handful of well-known creators on its platform to ensure digital art collectors get the most out of their collections.

While SuperRare isn’t as plentiful as OpenSea, there are very unique digital artworks on the market, and the platform charges artists a 15% fee on their first sale.

3 .Rarible

Rarible is a community-owned decentralized NFT marketplace that provides users with channels to buy and sell various NFTs. The platform has a user-friendly interface that allows users to easily mint and trade NFTs.

This multi-chain support ensures users can create, buy and sell NFTs on Rarible from any of the three blockchain networks.

Like OpenSea, Rarible charges a 2.5% transaction fee . However, it took its decentralization up a notch by introducing a governance system that empowers community members to vote through its internal TOKENRARI.

4 .Axie Infinity

Axie Infinity, is a popular blockchain game and one of the most popular game-centric NFT marketplaces.

However, while the previous marketplace was for collecting collectibles, the Axie marketplace is focused on its P2E video games, allowing users to create, buy, and sell Axies and other in-game digital collectibles. A piece of virtual land sold for a whopping $2.3 million , making it one of the most expensive Axie Infinity NFTs ever sold.

5 .Nifty Gateway

Nifty Gateway is often referred to as the NFT marketplace for the elite. Managed by Gemini, a cryptocurrency exchange run by the Winklevoss twins, the platform is based on Ethereum and allows users to buy, sell and mint exclusive crypto art.

Nifty Gateway has a strict policy on creativity and authenticity, which has prompted it to implement some of the strictest verification processes on artists.

Only verified creators can mint and list NFTs on the market, reducing any chance of scams. The platform charges a 15% commission on NFT sales.

6 .Solanart

Allows users to create, buy and sell multiple Solana-based NFTs. The platform contains NFT collections from multiple NFT projects such as Degenerate Ape Academy, Solpunks, etc. It charges a 3% transaction fee on each NFT sale.

Despite being a relatively new NFT market, the market has already surpassed $500 million in total transaction volume , according to Dapp Rader .

7 .Binance NFT Marketplace

Built on the Binance Smart Chain (BSC) network, Binance NFT Market is an NFT platform that allows users to buy and sell various forms of digital artwork and collectibles.

Launched by leading cryptocurrency exchange Binance, the platform aims to connect artists, creators, crypto enthusiasts and avid collectors to create and trade NFTs.

Interestingly, the marketplace has some of the lowest transaction fees in the industry, charging a 1% fee on all NFT sales, which is one of the perks of being owned by the largest cryptocurrency exchange in the world.

8 .NBA Top Shot

NBA Top Shot is an NFT marketplace that allows gamers and NBA fans from around the globe to collect, hold and trade short video digital cards representing key shots in a game, called “moments.”

The video and stats of these limited edition tokens depict a rare moment, and users can unlock extremely rare tokens by completing specific token sets that showcase the relevant moment.

Built on the Flow blockchain, the marketplace has seen some crazy sales since its inception in early 2019. Some NBA Top Shot TOKENs have been sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars, and the platform charges a 5% transaction fee for each NFT sold.

9 .Decentraland

It provides NFT artists and creators with full ownership of their creations. Users can access a variety of digital collectibles on Decentraland, including plots, in-game clothing, and real estate, and the platform’s native TOKEN MANA is used to purchase all of these assets.

The platform has recorded several large NFT sales, including a piece of virtual land sold on Decentraland for $2.4 million earlier in November 2021 .

10 .Looks Rare

LooksRare has its own governance TOKEN LOOKS, which is airdropped to OpenSea users.

This is a public vampire attack on OpenSea, just like SushiSwap did against Uniswap users in 2020.

While it is one of the more popular platforms, it is also important to note that many reports indicate that the majority of trading volume comes from wash trading to increase the rewards users get for staking LOOKS.

[freewillacquired]

Nemesis shrugged when Rain asked where he'd acquired the rocket launcher. "I raid... a lot... oth Un-drel-la... tha-ci-li-ties. They hath great shit. Rocket... laun-chers... run out... oth annu-nition... quick-ly, though," he lamented. And they were really freaking heavy. There were only so many supplies he could carry around, even for one of his strength. "Chain guns... are also real-ly great," he added with an enthusiastic nod. "Next tine... we cone a-cross... a tha-ci-li-ty... we can get you... all kinds oth shit." He could only imagine how wonderful Rain would feel, getting her hands on all sorts of Umbrella supplies, and Nemesis might be able to get her deeper into the facilities than she could get on her own.

He continued to chuckle as Rain got playfully annoyed with him about brushing off her punches. "Yeah, a little," he confirmed. He definitely felt the force, but it was muted, like he was being punched through multiple layers of leather. Well, in a way, he was. "Really good try, though. I ad-nire... your de-ter-ni-na-tion," he said, really laying it on thick. Man, did it feel good to joke around with Rain. Honestly, it felt good having her here at all. Who knew she'd still been alive all this time. It was like Christmas, he felt so happy.

"At this toint... I'n not sure... any-thing... can kill you, Rain," Nemesis said as they discussed smoking. How much had she survived already? Nemesis didn't think there was anything spectacular about his own survival. It was just... the virus, doing weird viral shit. If he'd been left human, he'd be dead by now, he was sure of that. But Rain... she was such a badass to survive such as she was. Nemesis really admired that.

Nemesis appreciated Rain's indignation regarding how survivors tended to treat him, but he just couldn't find it in him to be angry at people. Everyone was stressed out nowadays, and everyone was afraid in their own way. He didn't blame them for thinking he was a monster. He was, and he'd come to terms with that a long time ago. It was all new for Rain, though, seeing him like this, and so he let her protest as much as she wanted.

"Could you do... sone-thing like that?" he asked rather hopefully when she mentioned some alterations that might make using guns more feasible for him. Being able to use regular handguns would make things a lot easier, though he wondered what his aim would be like after being used to strafing weapons and ones that simply... blew up large areas, rather than having to actually be accurate with his shots.

He was laughing again as Rain teased him about gas money. Looking down at his leather getup, he actually noticed for the first time that the sides had... pockets. Can I? Oh it would be too perfect... Sure enough, he reached into the pockets and turned them both inside out, comically shrugging right after. "Sor-ry... no can do," he said, chuckling some more.

Nodding at Rain's recollection of Lisa, Nemesis sighed, bowing his head. "We got her in there... to gain... in-thor-na-tion... a-doubt... Un-drel-la. Ith I'd known... I nether... would hath done that... to her..." Nemesis carried an infinite amount of guilt over Lisa's fate. The idea that she'd probably still be dead today whether she was in the Hive on that fateful day or not seemed to elude him.

In a world ravaged by a virus that primarily creates monsters, nasty encounters are in no short supply. When Rain begins to hear heavy footfalls—when she feels them practically shaking the ground beneath her, she figures she's about to have another.

Cursing under her breath, she unholsters her gun.

The days were blending together in depressing ways now. Nemesis was shocked at how quickly things had gone to hell after the Hive and Raccoon City Incidents. It had taken him quite a while to regenerate after the city's "sanitation," but once he was on his feet again, he realized the gravity of what was happening to the world.

Alone and with nothing left to do in his current mutated state, Nemesis had taken to showing up at Umbrella facilities unannounced, and destroying as much of them as he could. The digital feed supplied by the retinal implant attached to his right eye and sewn up into his head gave him a lot of useful information, especially after his mind was liberated from Umbrella's control. May as well put it to good use, right?

He'd acquired more clothes and equipment this way, with the boots and leather trenchcoat-style getup being standard issues for a creature called a Tyrant, which he apparently now was. They seemed just about the only things that were going to fit his... unique body shape nowadays.

Learning about himself and destroying Umbrella assets were good pastimes, but Nemesis was extremely lonely. The few survivors he came across now and then either screamed and ran from him or shot at him. Bullet wounds were nothing more than annoying mosquito bites to him now, thanks to his thick hide, but even so... it was demoralizing. All he wanted to do was help. He was almost getting used to being alone all the time, by necessity rather than desire, until that unexpectedly changed. While exploring a city one day, he rounded a corner and-

"Raaaain!" Nemesis bellowed the moment he saw her, unable to contain his excitement upon seeing her. "Oh... ny god!" He couldn't believe his eyes. Well, eye. He still had two, but one was... indisposed. In a move that probably looked damn near ridiculous to the other, he lifted his hand... and waved to her. "I'n so glad... to see you! How... are you... alithe... right now?" he tried to ask, his massive chompers getting in the way, as usual.

Nemesis couldn't get his voice to be anything other than a monotone growl, and with monstrous teeth and a noticeable lack of lips, his speech was something of a garbled mess. It took him a while, but he'd learned to make certain sounds in other ways, using his throat and tongue. Essentially, he'd had to relearn how to speak. Some sounds and words, though, were lost forever. None of that did anything to curb his enthusiasm at seeing Rain alive, however. Was he finally losing his mind? Hallucinating, maybe? No, the target identification system is identifying her as Rain... Right now, Nemesis didn't care either way. Just the sight of her was one for sore eyes, since his last clear memory of her was being at death's door.

"I thought... the anti-thirus... didn't work...?" he said, his elation at seeing her alive completely overriding his common sense. Nemesis wasn't thinking about the fact that Rain wouldn't recognize him anymore, or about how negatively she would likely react to seeing the hulking beast before her. Not to mention his tentacles, rooted at the backs of his shoulders, which were excitedly coiling and undulating in their own right, reacting to his surprise and happiness. He batted one of them with his hand. "Cut it out...!" he admonished the obnoxious appendage. It recoiled temporarily before returning to its idle activities.

Then it dawned on him, especially with how she had her gun at the ready. Oh no... she has no idea who I am. "It's Natt," he said, laying his hand on his chest. "Natt... Ad-di-son." How pathetic is it that I can't even say my own name correctly anymore? he thought grimly.

[inliar]

broken signals

word count: 3.9k

yuto-centric; seungjoon-centric

two years ago, yuto woke up in a field, and now he is a farmer. his past was easy enough to forget, especially considering that he couldn’t even remember it in the first place. but it’s proving to be much, much harder to ignore.

loss one. loss two. seungjoon kind of hates how easily people can be categorized into neat little titles. especially since the people in question are more than just failed missions. he always hopes, deep in his heart, that he’ll find a way to bring them both back. but he’ll settle for one; the one he can actually communicate with.

a/n: 3/3 fics on my ao3 that i forgot to bring to tumblr.

warning: traumatic symptoms

yuto hates night the most, which is why waking up is the best part of his day. when he first started working, one of his grandparents had to come and physically shake him out of his slumber. but, now that his body has gotten familiar with the farm and its customs, he doesn’t need that anymore. his biological clock has taken to waking him up at 4:30 a.m. every day so he can start his chores. as his grandmother would say, the cows wait for nobody.

he doesn’t bother to wash up — he’s going to get dirty again, anyway — and instead changes into less comfortable yet more durable clothes. it’s still dark outside, and he’s too lazy to light a candle, so yuto just sort of mentally crosses his fingers and hopes his shirt isn’t buttoned the wrong way. not like it matters too much here, as the only beings he has to impress at this time are the farm animals, but he’d rather not look like an idiot in the odd chance he actually leaves the property area.

the chores themselves are so systematic they’re almost therapeutic. grab the buckets on the way out to milk the cows. one, two, three, four, and then bring them back in and exchange the full buckets for empty baskets. set the baskets beside the hen cage and go feed the inner barn first, lest the animals riot. fill the horses’ trough with hay. offer a carrot to one of them, and send a well-meaning glare at the other one who always tries to run away whenever he opens the stable. fill the cow’s trough with feed, and pat each of them gently on the nose for a job well done before heading out.

when he arrives back at the hen cage, one of the baskets is gone. sure enough, a familiar figure is crouching inside the cage, slowly yet surely collecting the eggs on the right side of the pen. “i thought i told you that i can do the morning chores by myself, now.” yuto calls, jogging towards the enclosure. “you should be resting, grandpa!”

“hush, child, i’ve been doing this since before you were born.” the old man says, waving a gloved hand in yuto’s general direction. “i know well enough how much work there is in the mornings. i don’t know why you keep insisting on doing it all by yourself.”

“you don’t even know when i was born,” yuto protests, grabbing the remaining basket and entering the enclosure. he squats by the left side of the cage and begins steadily collecting the eggs.

“at my age, trivialities like birth years don’t matter for those as young-looking as yourself.” the old man chuckles as yuto finishes checking the last nest. wordlessly, the old man offers yuto his filled basket.

he takes it with his empty hand and stands up to exit the cage. “is grandma sleeping, at least?” he asks, hopefully, waiting as the old man unlatches the cage.

the old man laughs, this time, a full bellied laugh that echoes across the open plains as he exits the cage. yuto moves one of the baskets to his other arm and single handedly fastens the latch behind himself. “son, i couldn’t stop that woman from doing what she wanted if i tried. knowing her, she’s probably waiting on these eggs to finish breakfast.” the old man says as they start their trek towards the house.

“she’d want to be awake at this time?” yuto asks, incredulously.

“that’s part of it. she’s always been the restless type, hated doing nothing when she could be doing something. but it’s also a habit. like me, and like the fine man you’re shaping up to be—”

at this, yuto smiles.

“—she can’t help but wake up when the birds start singing.” he explains, fondly.

yuto nods. “that sounds about right.” he muses. “at least, from what i know about her.”

“you’ve been here for what, a year now?” the old man asks.

“about two years, i think.” yuto corrects, not unkindly.

the old man exhales in disbelief, his breath forming a short-lived smoky cloud in the morning haze. “that long, already?” he remarks.

a pause. even after all this time, yuto still doesn’t quite know how to talk about his sudden arrival. it’s too strange to ignore, but too delicate to talk about so lightly.

yuto says nothing in return, watching the patterns his breath makes in the brisk air.

“but yes,” the old man continues, sensing the sudden tension in the air and breaking it. “you’ve been here long enough to have figured us out.”

“and i’ll be here for much longer, if you let me.” yuto says, smiling.

“is that so?” the old man asks, a note of pleasant surprise evident in his voice.

“of course? why would i want to leave?” yuto counters.

“well, doesn’t a young man like yourself want to go see the world? i was quite the wanderer myself, back when i was your age.” the old man says, a hint of a nostalgia lingering on his weathered face.

yuto’s smile falters as he tries to tamp down the sudden wave of something. vivid flashes of images flicker through his head, like an unwanted, corrupted slideshow invading the blank screen of his mind. a space station. a train. a meteor storm in the desert. seven white desks in a black room. a museum, at night, with alarms blaring. he shouldn’t know what any of these things are. why does he?

“i think i’ve had enough exploring to last me a lifetime.” yuto murmurs, pensively.

“pardon me?” the old man asks.

yuto shakes his head, breaking out of his trance as the strange moment passes. he plasters what he hopes is a convincing smile on his face. “i-it’s nothing.” he stammers, and then curses inwardly. stuttering is the opposite of casual.

it doesn’t go unnoticed. “are you sure you’re feeling alright, yuto?” the old man asks, concern painted over his features - which quickly morphs into the slightest tint of fear. “are you hearing those voi-”

“no! no, it’s not that, i promise. that was a one time thing, and a long, long time ago. i’m all better now, really!” yuto exclaims, rushing to assure the old man.

he doesn’t look convinced, but at least he doesn’t look afraid anymore. “if you’re sure about it, then.” he says, warily.

a lot of things go unsaid, but yuto understands them, anyway.

-

he hurtles into the abandoned room and frantically rummages through a filing cabinet. he’s already been here for far too long, and time is something he’s never had enough of. but he can’t leave yet. not before he finds it.

yuto doesn’t bother cleaning up after himself. no point if they already know he’s here. he shuffles through a stack of papers on the desk, allowing them to fall clumsily back into a pathetic semblance of a pile. it’s not here. it was supposed to be here. someone found it already.

a flash, and he’s stumbling out of a building. alarms are blaring, red and blue and loud and accusatory. “someone is here”, they seem to scream, insistently. demandingly. “find him, find him, find him.”

he curses and runs faster. spotting an entrance, yuto slips into a secluded alleyway where he’s certain he won’t be followed. yet judging by the hooded figure yuto senses a few feet behind, he couldn’t be more wrong. before the stranger notices, yuto unsheathes his gun. points it to the stranger’s forehead. cocks the trigger.

a flash, and asteroids are falling from the sky. his skin is dry, and his eyes and mouth sting from the dust.

“this is why we sent you back.” a voice says, echoing in his head. it’s hauntingly familiar, in a way yuto knows he should remember. in a way yuto feels like he’s heard countless times before.

“we wanted to change things,” it continues. the air begins to vibrate, the trepidation of oncoming disaster choking out his heart. yuto fights the urge to cover his ears, to collapse onto the ground and scream. “we didn’t know it would end like this.”

the voice resonates in his bones. yuto shivers, feels goosebumps angrily crawl up his skin.

“come back,” it says. it pleads.

yuto frowns, shakes his head as the ground beneath him trembles. dimly, he recognizes that the asteroids must have reached the surface. he gets the funny feeling that, should things have ended differently, he would have died here.

“please.”

-

yuto’s eyes shoot open. it’s not cold, but he’s shivering anyway.

‘no’, he realizes with a start, he’s shaking. his mouth tastes like ash: bitter and dry and unpleasant and frighteningly real. he also sort of wants to cry. it’s instinctive, like his impulse to run away and never come back.

despite having spent an entire night lying down and doing nothing but sleeping, yuto is panting as if he’s run a marathon. (or as if he’s ran into an alleyway. ran to hide. ran to— no).  his heart is racing. everything is dark and uncomfortable and much, much too fast.

‘breathe in, breathe out,’ yuto thinks, begs. he attempts to force his lungs to reset into a normal, functioning pattern. it takes an embarrassingly long time, but he eventually settles into something that can pass as regular.

this is exactly why he hates the night. night is when he sleeps. when he sleeps, he dreams. and his dreams are never quite right. they’re too bright, too loud, too vivid. too real.

yet, yuto muses, the dreams are far better than the voices. with the dreams, he can squeeze his eyes shut and trick himself into ignoring them as soon as the day starts. he can busy himself with farmwork and gardening and chopping firewood to dull the pain. but he can’t ignore the voices. the variety of tones that echo in his head — a baritone drawl, a sunny chirp, a melodic velvet — all tinged with concern and saying the same sorts of things. “come back, yuto. don’t you remember? please?”

“no,” he wants to yell back, “leave me alone!” because he can’t remember. he’s tried and he’s tried, but all he gets are flashes of images that are too fantastical to be real. nothing in the world is as sleek and shiny as the buildings in his recollections. it’s almost like they’re from some sort of fairytale or alternate universe. which is entirely, completely, and utterly impossible.

voices in his head, visions in his dreams. neither are a good sign. yuto genuinely thinks he’s sane, and his grandparents do as well. not that he’s told them anything — all they know of is a single panicked episode he couldn’t hide in front of them — but their approval means the world to him all the same. they found him and took him in when he was nothing but a lost boy in a grass field who couldn’t remember anything but his own name. in yuto’s eyes, they saved his life. and he refuses to confide to them anything that could cause their honourable names to be tainted through association with an insane stranger like himself. that could bring them trouble.

yuto is perfectly functional, if you ignore the fact that he can’t wake up quite right on some days (see: today). but no one else who heard his tale would think the same. it’s why he doesn’t go out often, and prefers to spend his time in the comfortable confines of their property. here, there’s no one new to watch if he has another episode. if he doesn’t want to get thrown into an asylum, or cause his grandparents any more unnecessary concern, he needs to eradicate whatever it is that’s screwing with his head. and if he can’t do that, he needs to be careful. but how much longer can he keep this up for?

he picks up a pillow and mashes it into his face. it’s the wrong kind of dark right now; not the fuzzy dark of dawn, but the black and shrouding dark of nighttime. yuto can afford to sleep a little longer. or, in any case, he can afford to try.

yuto squeezes his eyes shut and pretends that everything is okay.

-

“are you watching his feed again?” hyojin’s voice asks. seungjoon doesn’t bother to turn around.

he feels more than hears hyojin’s footsteps approaching, before two arms grab the back of seungjoon’s chair. hyojin leans over to watch the screen. “stop pushing me down,” seungjoon mutters, swatting blindly behind him.

“i’m only touching your chair?” hyojin protests, grabbing seungjoon’s arms and shoving them down. seungjoon sighs, but acquiesces and stops trying to hit him.

they stay there like that for a moment, sitting or standing, and simply watch the screen. yuto is looking at a pile of freshly picked corn in the candlelight. he picks one up, deftly unshucks it, and places it in a neat little stack that is forming on the side.

“do you want to go get dinner?” hyojin offers, unmoving.

“i’m not hungry,” seungjoon replies, eyes still glued to the screen.

“when’s the last time you’ve eaten?” hyojin asks. seungjoon doesn’t reply.

hyojin hums, tapping a short rhythm where his fingers rest in the chair. “i know you hate it when i say this, but you watching him isn’t going to do anything.” he waits for a reaction, any reaction, but seungjoon remains silent.

“this isn’t part of your job,” hyojin continues. “we have people monitoring him 24/7, and you’re the first person that they notify if anything happens. you’re not allowed to communicate with him while he’s awake, anyway. the CEO himself ordered it, so you don’t have the authority to override it. and we really don’t want a repeat of last time.”

seungjoon pushes his bangs back with his off hand and exhales, shutting his eyes. right, last time.

an inhumane screaming noise, loud and painful and entirely yuto.

an elderly couple crouching in front of him, repeatedly asking him how they can help.

his heart rate, his blood pressure, both spiked up to a concerningly high rate. his vitals alarm is blaring. the cameras in yuto’s eyes don’t reveal yuto himself, and seungjoon wonders, with a grim sense of dread, how he’d be feeling if he could see the state yuto was in himself.

they really, really don’t want a repeat of last time. hyojin’s right. he knows it, hyojin knows it, and he knows that hyojin knows that he knows it.

“the entire unit is worried for you. at first we thought this was a coping mechanism that would help you get better, but you’re only getting more stressed. it’s okay to take a break, but it’s not okay to keep working only to drop all your responsibilities. have you realized that you’ve left jaeyoung to single handedly take care of your team’s duties?”

seungjoon curses under his breath, finally turning around. “ah, shoot, i didn’t mean to do that.”

“i know. we sent minkyun over to help him out. he asked me not to bring it up, but you need to realize what you’re doing.” hyojin says, jamming his hands into his hoodie pocket.

“it’s just—” seungjoon starts, and just as suddenly stops. he flails his hands in the air a little, desperately trying to convey the hopelessness and frustration that’s suddenly welled in his throat. has breathing always been this hard?

hyojin nods, perfectly understanding. it’s amazing what over a decade of friendship will do for you. “take your time,” he says, patiently.

seungjoon takes a deep breath. and another one. collects his thoughts into some semblance of coherency. opens his mouth.

“this is different from ... minseok.” he begins, ignoring the way hyojin flinches a little. seungjoon feels the same.

“minseok was both our responsibilities. but yuto, he’s mine. and we didn’t even lose communication this time. but we can’t send him back to reboot his memories without his permission, and he doesn’t even remember how to give permission in the first place. i just have to sit and watch as he feeds some stupid cows or harvest some stupid crops! he is one of the smartest people in this agency and he’s farming? i just - ugh, i want him back.”

seungjoon kicks the wall underneath the computer desk. to his dismay, it barely makes a noise. he’s not any less frustrated, and he’s definitely just bruised his toe.

hyojin nods again, seemingly satisfied with seungjoon’s outburst of emotion. “it’s the first time you’ve been open to any of us in a while.” he comments, pensively.

seungjoon doesn’t grace him with a response. that cheeky little brat.

“i’m picking up dinner. is jajangmyeon alright?” hyojin asks abruptly.

“what?” seungjoon says.

“not a question. i’ll be back with the food in five minutes. oh, and i ordered tangsuyuk too.” hyojin states, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking it.

“have you forgotten that we’re not supposed to eat food around the very expensive computers?” seungjoon asks, raising his eyebrows.

hyojin’s lips quirk into a half smile. “since when have you and i followed the rules when it comes to food?”

seungjoon opens his mouth, and closes it. he chooses to nod instead. he couldn’t argue with that flawless logic even if he tried.

as hyojin walks out, another agent walks in, holding a clipboard to his chest with his arm. seungjoon frowns; he thought he knew everyone in his division, but he doesn’t recognize the man who just came in. “are you looking for someone?” seungjoon offers, tentatively.

“oh, no, i’ve just been stationed here.” the agent says, glancing down at his clipboard. “i’ve been told that tonight i have to monitor agent YO-425-83 —”

at this, seungjoon stiffens.

“— and orchestrate his dreams.” the strange agent finishes, unaware of the inner conflict that’s just risen in seungjoon’s brain.

seungjoon tries a smile. it feels forced and awkward on his face, but he hopes the other agent doesn’t notice. “were you debriefed on exactly how you were to do this?” seungjoon asks, his voice restrained and thick.

“somewhat, yes. i was given a file,” he starts, procuring a USB drive out of seemingly thin air, “and i was told to play the video into his memory feed. the rest, they said, was self-explanatory.”

oh. this is dangerous. seungjoon should most definitely not sit here and watch whatever memories they try to feed into yuto’s brain. he’s not mentally strong enough to handle it. it’s one thing to watch yuto on the farm, where he is a completely different person who never knew seungjoon or his life as an agent. it is another thing entirely to watch him be the person who he once was, only to have that fleeting image ripped out of seungjoon’s incapable hands yet again.

but seungjoon couldn’t stop himself from watching if he tried.

“may i monitor the process?” he decides to ask, rummaging through his bag propped up on another chair before pulling out his special badge. “i’m a supervisor, and this is a very delicate mission, so, as it’s your first time doing this, i’d like to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

the agent’s eyes widen. “y-yes, uh— of c-course, sir!” he stammers, fumbling over his words before dropping into a hasty bow. “i am so sorry, if i had known—”

seungjoon raises a hand, backing away from yuto’s monitoring computer and gesturing towards it. “no need to worry, you’ve done nothing wrong. now, why don’t you set up the system? we wouldn’t want to be late.”

the new agent hastens to oblige, pulling another chair in front of the computer before inserting the USB drive and typing furiously. the password screen clears, replaced by the thumbnail of the yuto’s dream’s video. it’s black, which gives no indication as to how this is going to go.

“would you like a headset, sir?” the agent offers, holding one out. “or do you not need to hear how the dream is going to monitor it?”

“thank you,” seungjoon says, putting the headset on and noticing how it cancels out the whirring of the computers and other white noises. for better or for worse, he is going to be fully immersed in this dream.

seungjoon holds his breath as the agent presses play.

it’s the strangest set of memories, and for once, seungjoon has no clue what the CEO was thinking. he can faintly recall where the scenes were from, though, based on the stories yuto had told. he’s searching for the key in an abandoned apartment. he’s investigating a fully secured museum, escaping from the alarms. he’s running from the authorities, hiding in a not-so-abandoned alleyway as he holds a gun to changyoon’s head, not realizing who it is. how is this supposed to help yuto gain his memories back, again?

the scene changes once more, and the proceeding image sends a chill up his spine. seungjoon curses, soft and low. it’s the asteroids; the reason why yuto had to go back and change things; the reason why he isn’t in this time and place anymore. if he could, seungjoon would take to a space station and destroy every single asteroid that ever dared to exist. every single stupid chunk of rock that stole parts of his life away. almost subconsciously, seungjoon switches the microphone on his headset to ‘on’.

“this is why we sent you back,” seungjoon says, sadly. dream yuto stills, says nothing, does nothing.

“sir?” the other agent asks in confusion. seungjoon ignores him.

“we wanted to change things,” he continues, watching as the asteroids get closer and closer to the ground. “we didn’t know it would end like this.”

‘didn’t know that you would be stuck in the past,’ seungjoon wants to add, but can’t. the last time they gave such a direct clue, yuto had an episode. he never wants to see yuto in pain like that again.

dream yuto shivers. for a second, seungjoon allows himself to hope that his words are working. that, once this is all over, yuto will activate the ‘return’ signal like he’s always been able to do.

“come back,” seungjoon pleads, letting the desperation bleed into his words.

dream yuto shakes his head, and it’s with a horrible jolt that seungjoon realizes the dream is coming to a close. before the moment ends, seungjoon squeaks out one last word.

“please.”

the dream stops.

seungjoon slumps back and stares at the monitor for a tense second. nothing happens. he pulls off his headset, gently placing it on the desk in front of him, and angrily swipes at the tears that have been rolling down his face.

-

hyojin drove him home.

he had taken one look at seungjoon’s miserable state and the computer in front of him before piecing together what he had missed. hyojin offered a brisk apology to the baffled, new agent in front of him before gathering his mess of a friend and declaring the work day over. seungjoon was in no position to disagree.

“take a nap. or watch a movie, or eat the jajangmyeon i put in your fridge, or whatever. but if i see you back at work today, i will end you.” hyojin threatened before cheerfully exiting.

seungjoon flops down on his bed, suddenly exhausted. he squeezes his eyes shut and pretends that everything is okay. wonders if, maybe, somewhere across time and space, someone out there is doing the same.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Any more Laun snippets? 👉👈

YES. and i apologize in advance for the content of this snippet LMAO

✨snippet✨

And Maisie absolutely adored them back. Until Aedion blurted out that Dorian used to date her mother years back—now the kid got all weird whenever someone mentions his name.

But she’ll get over it. If Rowan did, Maisie will too.

Aelin’s eyes darted between her two friends, a truly apologetic look on her face. “She’s at the movies.” A sigh. “She still hasn’t processed all that… history. Between Dorian and I. But she’ll come around.”

“She will.” Dorian nodded with a mournful look and a curling corner of his lip that betrayed his somberness. “They always get like this when I fuck their moms.”

Rowan tensed, his teeth gritted, but before he could give the man a piece of his mind, Aelin slapped the back of her ex’s head. Still, her scolding expression twitched with suppressed laughter.

She pointed a finger at him. “Do. Not.”

[lxveille]

i don't know why but i feel like since laun left they are indeed trying to take a sidebar from their main storyline/trying to find something that's not as laun-centered as the original story seemed to be (because of how they looked for him and he seemed to have a special role), they probably couldn't do it for go live because it all happened really fast but now 10 months have passed and "new world" even just from the name and the lyrics makes me feel even more like this

that’s true!

i guess what i’m wondering is if - since i’ve sene multiverse theories for onf - this cb’s storyline will sort of just be a glimpse into another universe within their established one or be the start of a totally new thing. it would make sense in a way for them to “reboot” their story, i suppose, for the reasons you pointed out.

i’m very curious about the masked figures in the seats in the train car??? (at least my poor eyes can only make them out to be masked?) especially since two of them are the same and one of them is different.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Ich find das immer so komisch, wenn die im deutschen Fernsehen ihre Gäste und Korrespondenten fragen, ob Ze “zufrieden” ist mit bestimmten Neuigkeiten/Ankündigungen.

It’s so funny but also weird how German TV presenters always ask their guests and correspondents if Ze is “pleased” with certain news/announcements.

Sounds kinda like he is some really high-maintenance and demanding … diva/celebrity/god(?) that needs to be appeased and (bei Laune gehalten werden) kept happy. Where it’s really important to always gauge and keep tabs on their mood. Or I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just so funny to me (and I don’t mean that in an entirely positive way, either).

On the other hand, when they do that they at least don’t treat Ukraine like an object without any agency or voice of it’s own (which some people like to do).

The German obsession with knowing if Zelenskyy is happy is just weird.

Not to mention they (most of the time) just have a guess if he's happy or not. It's not like they constantly call or write him and ask if he liked a decision or not.

But yes, German media tends to portray him as a really demanding person. They hardly report all the stuff he says, actually only about his requests for things (mostly weapons). And their always like "Zelenskyy demands...".

No. He asks. He pleads. He recommends. He stats his opinion. He simply says. ...

But in most German medias it's always "demands".

(and don't get me started on the pictures some of them choose to create a certain image / frame)

On the other hand, when they do that they at least don’t treat Ukraine like an object without any agency or voice of it’s own (which some people like to do).

Yeah, the only do that when they explain Ukraine and the world how they should behave and what they should do. As if Germany has any say in this. (isn't our colonial point of view on certain countries wonderful?! - irony, obvi)

[author-morgan]

👀 can we get that rant about how Valhalla is 💩?

Oh boy, where do I even start? So, for one, Ubisoft moved the launch date of Valhalla up to align with the release of next-gen consoles (Xbox Series X and PlayStation 5) near the start of November 2020, and likely to have more time to sell copies before competition from games with December releases, like Cyberpunk 2077. But what we got was an unfinished mess of a game (and I’m sure a month wouldn’t have made much of a difference, but we’ll never know now). This isn’t an issue particularly with Valhalla as it is with the entire gaming industry at the moment, though.

The capitalistic drive to charge ridiculous amounts of money (most base games start at $70 USD now) for an unfinished product is sickening. Why can we not just take the time to release a game that will be playable at launch anymore? Do I expect all games to be perfect at launch? No. From the Assassin’s Creed series, neither Odyssey nor Origins were perfect, but they were a whole hell of a lot better than what we got with Valhalla. Even Shadow of War and Red Dead Redemption 2 had their flaws at launch, but at least I could still play the games. Also, the price for DLCs? Insane. The Dawn of Ragnarök DLC is running for $40 USD, that’s almost the price of a new game?

I got my disc (call me an old-timer, but I like to still have physical copies of things) popped it in my Xbox, and waited for over 5 hours for it to install and download the needed content. And that’s where things went wrong. The cutscenes looked awful. The dialogue didn’t match up to lip movements. NPCs would glitch out. Has this been improved? Yes. But it took over three months for the game to even look halfway decent, and by that time, I’d already done half of the ridiculously long main storyline (for the love of God, I never want to play a game that takes close to 100 hours just to complete a main storyline).

The opening sequence for Valhalla is ridiculously long, so long I thought we wouldn’t see a title card at that point, but you know what sucks even more? Having to replay that portion of the game 4 times because the save function was not working properly. I had to start over 4 times. Easily 20 hours of playthrough. Then, once someone on Reddit who was having the same issue as I was suggested to make sure the game was saved both to the cloud and my storage, I was able to progress. But not for long.

The number of times Valhalla crashed back to the Home Screen is ridiculous, so I would lose progress every time that happened, but not as bad as starting back from the beginning. So many of the main quests were bugged. The start scene wouldn’t trigger. I couldn’t interact with an NPC to progress. Once or twice I even desynchronized during a cut scene. So, what does that mean when the quests bug? You either restart the game/console or have to wait for a patch. One of the quests with Aelfred took several restarts for it finally work (and the loading times in Valhalla are so bad).

But if I thought the main quests were bad, the side quests, oh wait world events, were even worse. Some of them I was not able to complete until 6 months after launch, and each patch and update was just me waiting and waiting. Just ask @mrsragnarlodbrok about the damn pig of prophecy. Oh, let’s not forget the fast travel bug. For almost a month, I could not fast travel anywhere, could not call my longship, and while the England map may not have been as large as Odyssey, it’s fucking inconvenient, especially when your character runs faster than the horse half the time.

Also, I love still falling below the map in 2022 or the random times Eivor was yeeted into the air with no way to get back until the game decides to desynchronize me. Like very cool. And as I mentioned, every addition of free content just makes the game’s performance worse. Two of the mastery challenges are still bugged for me. It took this long for the River Raids to finally cooperate. It’s going on two years post-launch, and things are still...not good.

There is still a lot wrong with Valhalla, I hear it from friends who play, from subreddits, and there’s still a lot of room for improvements. But I guess we’ll have to wait for that since the focus is on another DLC for now. Valhalla isn’t perfect yet, and who knows, it may take another two years for it to run as smoothly as Odyssey and Origins, but I’m just ready for NG+. Maybe I wouldn’t be as bitter if I had NG+ because I could replay the story after the patches and enjoy it over just getting frustrated when the missions didn’t advance or when it crashed and lost my progress. But alas, we do not have NG+, and at this rate, I don’t expect it any time soon, and I do not have the time or energy to put that many hours into a new game from scratch when most of the time was just spent grinding (but that’s for a reason right? To sell microtransactions? Pay to win though, lol).

So, here’s my suggestion to Ubisoft. Stop focusing on releasing repetitive free events and focus on fixing the damn game that’s part of your flagship franchise, and I don't know, maybe drop NG+ soon so the game can be played and enjoyed the way the developers and writers wanted it to be? Instead, we were sold a ridiculously expensive half-finished product that still isn't up to par with its predecessors over a year later.