#or like a mother with her head in the right place

[bonniepop]

atsumu opens the door to his house and is greeted by silence and a dark first floor. it’s to be expected; it’s nearly midnight, and he got stuck in traffic on the way back home from practice.

toeing off his shoes by the door, he leaves the keys to his car on the console table and uses the flashlight on his phone to help him navigate in the darkness. he climbs up the stars and hears muffled voices. it sounds like a movie.

the upstairs hallway is fairly lit, so he uses the sound to guide him to his child’s door. gently, he turns on the knob and pokes his head in. there’s a laptop playing a children’s movie on the desk, a flurry of toys on the floor, and a mother and child snuggled on the bed.

“hey, sweetheart,” he greets softly, grinning when he catches his daughter’s attention and she perks up.

“mommy,” she says, tiny hands tapping her dozing mother’s cheek. “mommy, daddy’s here.”

—

“mommy,” your daughter calls again, and your eyes blearily blink open. “mommy, it’s daddy!”

you twist your head and smile sleepily when your gaze lands on your husband. “hi, tsum.”

“hi, baby,” he greets, slipping inside and dropping his gym bag by the door. he moves to sit but his daughter stops him.

“no, daddy,” she whines. “you can’t go on my bed. you’re dirty!”

you snort while he blinks, and you push yourself up to sit.

it takes him a while to process what she just said. “i’m not dirty!” atsumu protests, placing his hands on his hips. “i’m clean! i changed clothes before i left the gym—”

“no,” she says, wrinkling her nose and pointing to his bag by the door. “you have to shower.”

“these clothes are clean—”

“nooooo,” she whines, slapping the cushion in frustration. “shower!”

“but mommy’s on the bed and i wanna be on the bed, too—”

“but mommy’s clean!” she whines again. “shower, daddy!” she extends the r of the word shower, baring her teeth in a scowl.

his jaw drops, then he turns to gape at you. “you’re not gonna say anything?”

you tamp down your smile and shrug. “it’s easier if you just do as she says. i had to shower before i even entered her room.”

“where did you learn this?” he asks, turning back to his daughter with disbelief. “i bet it was from your grandma, ‘cause your mom ain’t as much of a neat fre—”

“okay!” you interrupt him, climbing off the bed before your daughter could expand her vocabulary. “i’ll make sure your dad bathes, sweetheart.” you lean down to kiss your daughter’s forehead.

“thank you, mommy,” she says sweetly, kissing your cheek.

“what about my kiss?” atsumu asks, shouldering his bag and frowning.

“shower first,” his daughter says resolutely.

“jesus,” atsumu mumbles under his breath, low enough that his daughter can’t make it out, and you herd him to step outside the door.

you laugh when it clicks shut behind you. “it’s your bag, you know,” you mention, walking alongside him. “whenever she sees it, that’s when she thinks you’re dirty.”

“why? i spray this thing all the time with the little—” he makes a spritzing-like motion with his fingers. “what’s it called? the thing you gave me.”

“deodorizer?”

“yeah!”

“smelling deodorized and smelling clean are different,” you point out, then point to your bedroom. “go. shower.”

he sighs in dismay, but true to himself, he's not down for long. he wiggles his eyebrows in your direction. “care to join me?”

you roll your eyes. “nice try. i’m gonna put your gross clothes in the laundry room.”

he brightens. “i can do that! after we shower together, that is.”

you sour. “and let the stink simmer? no way.” you reach out your hand. “give it to me; i’ll do it.”

he pouts a little. “but it’ll be more fun if we shower together!”

“no.”

“come on! for me?”

it's almost emasculating, seeing him beg like this, but your gaze is stone cold serious. “no.”

he grumbles in defeat and hands his bag over. “fine. but just so you know, i’m not a happy husband right now and you’ll need to make up for the lack of love and commitment at some point.”

“i give you plenty,” you say with finality before turning on your heel and heading down the stairs.

“you promised for better or for worse and i am going to collect!” he calls after you.

"shower first, then we'll discuss my marital commitments."

[dexastres]

anchor, part two

jude bellingham x black reader

summary : jude calls his ex in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep

warnings : angst

wc : 927

part one

english isn't my language, so please bear with me

2:51 A.M.

After that phone call, she couldn’t get to sleep. How could she when the guilt gnawed at her, thinking Jude was crying because of her? How could she close her eyes after reading the messages he sent? How could she? Her mind was in chaos, in contrast to the calm that filled her room.

“Did he truly mean what he said?” She wondered. She sighed, her thoughts weighed down by nostalgia. She turned on the lights and made her way to her closet, looking for a box.

When she broke up with Jude, she gathered all their photos, letters and small gifts that he had given her, placing them in a box because she couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. It held fragments of a history that she was trying to leave behind, but she knew they had shared a special bond. She had understood it from their very first encounter.

After rummaging through the shelves, she finally found it. She sat down and opened the box. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of it, bringing back countless cherished memories.

“It hurts me to say this, but I still love you, Jude.” She murmured, wiping away her tears. “So, please, don’t hurt me again.” Her voice faded, drowned in the sudden rainfall.

04:55 A.M. “Are you free today? We need to talk.” She sent him this last message before falling back asleep.

07:45 A.M. Jude lay on his bed, listening to the rain outside. His eyes lingered on the empty side of the bed, and his heart clenched at the painful reminder of what he had lost. The young man sighed, but instantly regretted it because of the terrible headache he had after crying so much the night before.

Wincing, Jude got up and headed to his bathroom, without looking at his phone that kept vibrating on his bedside table. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, he gasped; the dark circles under his eyes and his livid complexion made him look like a zombie.

“I’m so glad Ancelotti moved our training to this afternoon.” Jude muttered under his breath, running a shaky hand down his face. Once he was done with his morning routine, he headed to the kitchen, where his mother was preparing breakfast.

“Good morning.” The young man said with a raspy voice. His mother was startled and turned around to face her son, who was entering the room. She was surprised to see him up so early, knowing how much Jude loved to sleep in when his training sessions were scheduled later in the day.

“Good morning.” Denise greeted him with a smile, but it quickly faded when she saw the state her son was in. She walked towards Jude and pulled him into a hug.

“What's wrong, Jude? You can talk to me, you know. I hate to see you like this.” She pleaded, her voice trembling with worry. An overwhelming silence filled the room. Then, suddenly, Jude’s shoulders slumped, and he began to sob. He clung to his mother as tears streamed down his face.

“I miss her, and I’m an idiot for treating her like shit when we were together.” Jude admitted while staring at the floor. He had never been afraid to cry in front of his mother, but this time it was different. The pain he carried was laced with shame.

“I shouldn’t be the one crying when I’m the reason she left. I’m the one to blame for our breakup. She loved me. She always stood by my side. She made me happy, but I never gave her that love in return. I let her go without fighting for us, and now she’s dating someone who treats her better than I did. I regret everything I’ve done. I wish I could go back, fix my mistakes, and tell her how much…"

Jude paused for a moment. "I want to tell her how much I love her."

Denise robbed his back as he continued to speak. She struggled to find the right words, but she understood that her son wasn’t looking for advice, but rather a sympathetic ear. They stayed like that for another five minutes. Jude already felt better. The weight on his shoulders disappeared, although his headache got worse.

“Thanks, Mum. I needed that. I think I’ll go back to sleep. I’ll eat later if that’s okay with you.” Denise nodded in response, then placed a kiss on his forehead before releasing him from her embrace.

“Go rest.” Jude smiled and went back to his room. Lying on his bed, he stared at the ceiling, letting the raindrops soothe him. However, his alarm went off, interrupting his moment of peace.

Frustrated, Jude reached for his phone from the nightstand and it turned off. As he was about to put down his device, a series of messages caught his eye. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open as he read them.

“What? She’s not with him anymore?” His heart pounded, his trembling hands held the phone as he stared at the screen. Jude blinked, both surprised and confused. He didn’t know how to react. A flood of emotions washed over him: hope, guilt and nervousness.

“I have a training session at 2, but I’m free after that. We could meet at our café at 5.” Jude sent the message and closed his phone without waiting for an answer.

“Our café… I haven’t been there since we broke up.” He whispered before falling back asleep.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Catching the fox." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

Jesus only caused problems since you, Daryl and Rick met him during a run, but that doesn’t prevent you all from having a little fun. (Even if you come home empty-handed)

A/N: Based on what is probably the funniest episode of "The Walking Dead" to me. I wrote this a while ago but I'm posting it for my friend, who actually finds this funny hehe Sorry if this is long and boring :c Spoiler alert: Jealous Daryl is my favorite Daryl! I hope you like it!

“So… hunky-dunky. Uh?”

In front of you all, an empty, silent road is always pleasant. Nature wasn’t lost after the apocalypse, not completely, and although the green color of the grass disappeared slowly with the passage of time, Mother Nature still retained her place in the world. Sitting by the window in that big truck full of food, the wind pushes some strands of your hair as you breathe in the fresh air. And, sitting in the middle as Rick drives, Daryl glances at you as he checks Denise’s list.

“Don’t…” He says, warning you, making you chuckle. It was the word that Eugene used when he gave Daryl his map, always using fancy ones. At his side as he drives the truck down the hill, Rick chuckles, too. “Why ya never gave me a list?”

You watch the list in his hand and then, you look back at him.

“I think it's impossible to get a high definition TV with surround sound system so I can watch the games again like in those old days. You know, the ones that were on TV before the world went to hell.”

Both men look at you with a funny look, and you look back at the window as the truck approaches that abandoned gas station on the left side of the road. There are papers and trash everywhere, and Rick parks near the gasoline pumps. All of you get out, but since the silent street is free of any walker, you walk around while Rick goes ahead to check the store door.

“We had that shit in our apartment? That round sound thing.”

You chuckle before turning around towards him, smiling innocently.

“Surround sound system, love, and no, we didn’t. We were always fooling around so we never really had time to watch the games. Remember?”

Your words catch him off guard, and his innocent eyes look at you until he understands what they mean. A second later, the boldness shines in his blue eyes and he closes the distance of a few steps between you two. Daryl encircles your waist with his right arm and pulls you gently towards him, his forehead resting against yours.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me, sunshine?”

You shake your head, softly.

“No, but why?” You whisper. “Does that turn you on?”

“Really?” Rick complains, suddenly, closer than you thought he was. “Now?”

You chuckle pulling away from your husband.

“Sorry, bro.” Says Daryl, taking his arm off of you.

Rick looks at you two with a sarcastic expression and raises an eyebrow.

“I regret coming with you two.”

But he is joking and lets it go quickly.

On the back of the place, Daryl walks over to the black machine lying in the middle, noticing it was a vending machine turning upside down. Although Denise said it wasn’t of the utmost importance, he wants to go back to Alexandria with a gift for Tara, just because Daryl understood the feeling of trying to do something nice for another person. So, minutes later, Rick rolls over the machine with a chain attached to the truck, and as he gets out and walks towards you two, the glass shows that the interior is full.

“It’s soda and Candy.” Rick says while Daryl removes one of the chains. “Why the trouble?”

“It ain’t a trouble.”

But suddenly, out of nowhere, a man turns around the corner and pushes Rick on his way out, raising his hands in the air as Daryl and Rick take their guns to aim at the stranger, your own hand holding your weapon hidden behind your waist, as a reflex in the face of danger.

The bandana that covers half of his face shows only his pretty eyes.

“Hi.” He is agitated, as if he has run for a long time. “I was just running from the dead.”

“How many?” Daryl asks while Rick steps back to look at the corner of the lonely place, searching for any walkers close by.

“10. Maybe more. I’m not risking it. Once it gets to double digits, I start running.”

Daryl doesn’t trust him, and he keeps pointing at him with his gun.

“Where?”

“About a half a mile back. They’re headed this way. You probably have about…” He wiggles his head, looking for the right number. “11 minutes.”

The distrust doesn’t go away, but Rick is the first and the only one who lowers his weapon.

“Okay, thanks for letting us know.”

“Yes.” The man breathes through his bandana. “There’s more of them than us. Right? Gotta stick together.” He looks at Daryl, due to his gun still pointing at him. “Right?”

Although that stranger appeared from nowhere, he finally lowers his gun, too.

“You have a camp?” The man asks.

Maintaining the safety of Alexandria was the main thing, and being selective with the new people you all let in was the first rule until you all knew they could be trusted.

“No.” Daryl says.

“Do you?” Rick asks.

The man thinks about it for a second.

“No.” He finally says, and then, he looks at you standing next to them. “It’s just you two, with a woman?”

Before you realize what he meant, Daryl raises his weapon quickly, his hand tightening around it in anger.

“Ya want me to shoot ya, asshole? She’s ma wife and yer gonna say yer sorry.”

The man breathes in and Rick looks at him.

“You better say it now before he shoots you.”

Before looking at you, the man looks at Daryl who was still aiming him with his gun, so the new one does it. You don’t think what he said was an insult, but it was better to follow the situation calmly before Daryl shoots him for real.

“I’m really sorry, madam. I didn’t mean to offend you.” You move your hand in the air to minimize the misunderstanding, telling him it was okay. “Well… sorry for running into you. I’m gonna go now.” He turns around and starts walking, talking over his shoulder. “This is the next world; I hope it’s good to you, guys.”

Daryl and you share a confused look as Rick watches the man walk away.

“I’m Rick, these are (y/n) and Daryl. What’s your name?”

The man turns around again and pulls his bandana down.

“Paul Rovia. But my friends use to call me Jesus…” He extends his arms out, casually. “You pick.”

“You said you didn’t have a camp.” Rick answers back. “You are on your own?”

“Yeah.” He looks at you all with a sudden confidence. “But still, best not to try anything.”

However, Daryl doesn’t seem impressed, or intimidated.

“Best not to make threats ya can’t keep, either.”

“Exactly.” And the man starts running out of there.

“How many walkers–” Rick tries to ask, but Daryl cut him off.

“No. Not this guy.”

However, Rick makes his question anyways.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Sorry! Gotta run. You should too.”

And he disappears around the corner.

Running into new people was still strange, but that situation was a new kind of strange, and hard to understand too.

“What the hell was that?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah. He was clean.” Rick nods. “His beard, it was trimmed.”

“And he was way too confident to be just by himself.” You say.

Rick nods again, because if the man is strange to you both, then that is more than just a coincidence: something else is happening.

“He didn’t have a gun, either.” Daryl frowns, looking down the path Jesus took.

“We could track him.” Rick put away his gun. “Watch him for a while. Get to know him more. See if he’s really alone. Maybe bring him back.”

“No.” Daryl complains, his voice always low and husky. “That guy calls himself Jesus.”

But then, a noise from the front of the place attracts everyone’s attention, the thunderous sound of tires against the pavement.

“Shit.” Daryl says when he realizes the truth. “He swiped yer keys. Didn’t he?”

The moment you all get there; the place is still empty, with the truck full of food moving away up the hill.

“Sorry!” Jesus yells as he drives away, taking the vending machine with him, too.

The three of you stop in the middle of the road, watching with frustration as the truck goes away under your eyes.

“Shit.” Rick says.

The vending machine leaves a path on the middle of the road, like breadcrumbs to track down the thief, until you find it halfway on the way. Daryl opens the case to secure Denise’s sodas for Tara while Rick and you catch your breaths after running up there. The strands of your hair stick to your forehead, while the beads of sweat begin to fall on theirs.

“This is a special request from the doctor.” Daryl says, showing Rick the soda can, opening one to give it to you.

“Hey…” Rick breaths and takes the broken one Daryl gives him. “Whatever she wants. She saved Carl’s life. We didn’t know her, and she turned out to be all right. And If there’s still people out here, and they’re still people, we should bring them in.”

“What? Like this guy?” Daryl points to the road Jesus left.

“No, fuck that guy.” Rick shakes his head and looks inside the machine for something.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your mind full of thoughts about what had just happened, but without saying anything, at least until you can formulate a coherent opinion.

“What’s on your mind, (y/n)?” Rick asks when he sees you looking at the ground.

“Well, I just think that…” You doubt if you should share with them what you are thinking, but it is a waste of time while the truck is still moving. “It’s nothing. We should keep going.”

You try to take a few steps but Daryl stops you reaching out his arm.

“Hey.” He says softly to you. “S’okay, jus’ say it.”

You are not naive; you know how that world works now. Not only were the alive against the dead ones. That life was a battle against other people as well. However, not everything was black and white. Or it was?

“I don’t say that what he did is right, but no one steals for pleasure these days, so maybe he did it because he needs it, too.”

Rick wiggles his head slowly, half of him giving you the reason because that is true although nothing apologized what that man did.

“So what?” Daryl frowns, his temper rising again. “Would ya jus’ let him go with our stuff?”

His personality is like a roller coaster, full of constant ups and downs, but luckily, you know how to handle it.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Dixon, and it was you who said I could share my opinion. But I am not saying we should let him go just like that. Hell, no.”

Daryl gives a step back, confused by your sudden change of mood, just like his own.

“So?”

You frown back.

“The truck is ours. And, if in this world the strongest wins, that will be us. So, we will get it back.”

The force in your eyes and the way you look at him catches him completely. But Daryl is no longer shy, and although he likes your privacy as a marriage, he can’t help but tangle his hand in your hair, softly.

“Since when ya are this ballsy, woman?”

Playing, you push his hand away.

“Fuck you, Dixon. I was like this long before I met your ass.”

“I really hate you both.” Rick says, making Daryl chuckle.

“Sorry, bro. S’jus’… she looks so hot right now.”

You chuckled as Rick raises an eyebrow.

“It’s because we ran until we got here. Now, we should get going.”

At first, you try to be understanding to the request of both men asking you to wait behind the bushes while they surprise the stranger, who just finished fixing the tire of the truck parked in the middle of the road, away from the danger posed by Paul, or Jesus, or whatever he chose to call himself, but you can’t help but compare him to a fox, somewhat elusive, almost slippery as he managed to dodge the blows of Rick and Daryl, who were hit in the stomach and pushed against the truck, respectively.

So, when Jesus turns around, he stops dead with your gun pointed at his face, his hands in the air.

“You would really shoot me in the face just for a truck?”

You tilt your head, taking the safety off the gun your dad gave you for protection before dying.

“No. Not in the face, but maybe in the legs just below the knees so you stop being so slippery.”

He takes a deep breath.

“You wouldn’t do that.”

Behind him, Rick and Daryl raise their own weapons, making you lower your own.

“Oh, trust me, pretty boy, I totally would.”

But suddenly, before you can say more, a walker comes out of the bushes, grunting at you all.

“Do you even have any ammo?” Jesus asks, but Daryl and Rick are already tired of him, and both shoot the walker at the same time. “Okay, again, are you gonna shoot me over a truck?”

“There’s a lot of foot on that truck.” Rick says. “The keys. Now.”

In the end, Jesus gives them the keys and Rick ties his hands and feet up to leave him there, on a side of the road.

“The knots aren’t that tight.” Rick says to him. “You should be able to get free… after we’re long gone.”

For his part, Daryl growls when he sees that some of the soda cans had crushed during the fight, with all the content dripping from his backpack.

“Maybe we should talk now.” Jesus smiles when Rick walks away.

“Nah.” Daryl walks pass him by and makes you walk with him to the passenger seat. But first, he stops to shake a can and throws it at Jesus. “Here. In case ya gets thirsty.”

When you two get to the passenger seat, Daryl goes up first, and though he has to move to let you go up, too, he takes you by the waist to help you go up to sit between his legs. You are a little surprise by his action, but he just closes the truck door and chuckles as Rick moves the keys around his finger.

“You were right, (y/n).” He smiles at you as he starts the truck. “We are the strongest ones.”

As the truck begins to move, Daryl leans back against the seat and shows his middle finger out the window.

“So long, ya prick!” He yells at Jesus.

The loud music in the truck accompanies you all the way. As you lean your arm against the window frame, the wind makes your tied hair move back, in a soothing and peaceful way. Daryl’s right hand continues to rest against your waist beneath your t-shirt, holding you against him while everything around is still fine.

“He ain’t that pretty, y’know?” Daryl says quietly over the music, after a long moment of silence.

You frown, turning slightly to look at him.

"Are you kidding with me? Jesus...” But you laugh when Daryl frowns, even though you just said the name of the son of God, not that stranger. "That's not what I meant!"

He snorts, But before he can answer back, Rick talks first.

“Hey, look at that.” He says, pointing something on the road in front.

A barn. When you get close, the even path changes for an unstable one as you all enter the barn’s lawn, but, out of nowhere, there is a blow that comes from the roof, getting your attention before theirs.

“You hear that?” You ask as Daryl lowers all the volume of the music.

“I think that son of a bitch is on the roof.”

And then, Rick is really tired of that fox.

“Hold on.” Rick steps on the brake and the truck stops abruptly, throwing Jesus through the air until he falls in front of you all.

But then, he just gets up on his feet, and runs away. It is ridiculous. It is almost comical the way Rick drives to chase him down the field, but in the end, it is Daryl who has enough of him.

“Motherfu-” Daryl stops himself to take you by the waist, and he moves from under you. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Before you react or before Rick could stop the car, Daryl opens the door and gets out of the truck to chase after Jesus on foot.

Rick drives near them as you sigh.

“Sometimes I can’t believe I’m married to that man.”

Rick laughs and tries to move the truck to block Jesus, but that elusive fox is more agile, so Rick steps back the truck as Daryl and Jesus swing from side to side in the middle of the field, waiting for one of them to take the first step.

“We should clear the way for them.” Rick says when some walkers around the place start to move too close to them.

You open the truck door, moving away from it, pulling the knife from the sheath of your waist.

“We came to a conclusion, asshole!” Daryl yells at Jesus, still in the middle of the place when he runs away, so Daryl looks at you two before start chasing him, again. “I got him.”

Some walkers were tied up with around another truck, and you and Rick make them fall when they manage to break the rope free.

Back in the truck, Jesus opens the driver’s door and tries to get in, but Daryl grabs him from his jacket and tries to pull him out.

“Come ‘ere, ya little shit.”

No one sees it coming, no one pays any attention, but a walker comes up to Daryl from behind, walking dangerously until it enters Jesus’s view. So he raises a gun, watching Daryl without moving.

“Duck.” He says.

Daryl understands it at once and crouches. The bullet flies over him and enters directly into the walker’s head causing it to fall. Daryl looks back and studies the body on the ground before turning back to look at Jesus.

“Thanks.” Daryl breathes out and punches him on the face. “That’s ma gun! Come ‘ere.”

The shot pierces your ears and Rick’s, causing to both of you to look at the truck in the distance, and you two run to them. Daryl tries to pull Jesus out of the truck, but Jesus knocks it into neutral, and the vehicle starts rolling into a pond behind. Daryl jumps out of the truck and Jesus followed him, but his head gets hit with the door and he passes out. When Rick and you finally reach the place, you watch Daryl moving Jesus with his boot as the truck sinks.

You sigh heavily when you all see the last of that truck before it disappears forever before everyone’s sight.

The new car you all get is old, ironically, but Rick keeps driving through the silent road in the middle of those huge trees. From the backseat, Daryl pushes Jesus who was still pretty unconscious, but his body continues to fall back on Daryl’s shoulder.

“Is he your new best friend?” You tease him, making Daryl groan. “I’m getting jealous, actually.”

“Be quiet, woman.”

“I told you I could go in the back with him.”

“Yeah?” He says. “Over ma dead body.”

Just to annoy him even more, Rick moves the car so that way Jesus’ body would fall back on Daryl. He growls again, pushing Jesus far from him as Rick drives back to Alexandria.

That same night, Daryl and Rick walk down Alexandria Street back to their homes after leaving Jesus in the basement. He was fine despite the hit, and by now they just had to wait for him to wake up in the morning.

As they arrive at Rick’s house first, it is time to say goodbye.

“It is pretty stupid of us to go out there. Isn’t?” Rick asks as he goes up the stairs of his porch.

“Yep.” Daryl says walking away. “Do it again tomorrow?”

“Yep.” Rick answers watching him go. “Tell (y/n) to come.”

“Hu-uh.” Daryl waves his hand to him.

Two houses away, Daryl goes up the steps to the porch and opens the door to his house. The only light comes from a lamp on the table in the living room, shining with an amber color. Daryl closes the door behind him and watches you come out of the kitchen.

“There’s a couple of sandwiches in case you’re hungry.”

But he just walks towards you while you stop in front of the stairs. You are tired but it had been a funny day in spite of everything, and you laugh when Daryl wraps his arms around your waist to lift you up.

You hold yourself with your hands on his shoulders, your legs around his waist.

“Nah. Jus’ want some time alone with ma wife.”

[bokunokamijirou]

lowk hear me out:

post war, touya is recovering in the hospital, and rei comes and visits reader in jail to learn more about her son since they were dating 🥺

A Mother's Word

TouyaxF!Reader

ft. Rei Todoroki

You had told the guards no visitors. You knew if anyone were to come see you, it'd just be to laugh in your face.

The war wasn't kind to you, but it was harsher to your boyfriend, Touya. While he was burning alive with his family, you were attempting to subdue heroes far from your love.

It's what All For One insisted upon, so you had to listen.

But you didn't join the League for him. Not even for Touya. The message that Shigaraki was spreading about a world where people who were seen as villains had the same chances as heroes? That was something you wanted, no, needed to believe in. Your family abandoned you when you were younger, and you'd been running along the streets ever since.

You joined the League and found your new family, purpose, and the love of your life.

You just didn't know what it meant, loving Dabi. Because you didn't love him, no, well- maybe you did. But it was Touya, the man he was when it was just you two, alone- that's who you love.

So, imagine your surprise when you discover his own mother had arrived to visit you. You had only heard short stories about Rei, and you weren't entirely sure what to expect when you met her.

The guards approach you, asking if you'd see her. She hid behind them clutching her bag, but the sadness and exhaustion across her face made you feel sympathetic. He had her eyes, after all.

"Okay, just this once," you manage to croak out as you suddenly feel self-concsious. What could she want? Is Touya recovering still? Is Endeavour coming too? He better not, you'd go feral trying to hurt him. Even if Touya didn't want you to, you'd always hate that man for what he did to his family.

"I- I was just visiting Touya in the hospital yesterday" Rei says quietly as she stands in front of the bars caging you in. "He was asking about you."

"Typical Touya, worried more about me than he is about himself. I'm doing fine..." you reply coldly, avoiding eye contact.

"He- he said he wanted me to meet you." Rei placed her hand gently on the metal bars separating you both.

You stop and glance up at her, the way her eyes were pleading for answers made you freeze. "He said that to me too, before, you know-" you respond softly this time.

"Can you... can you tell me about him?" Rei's voice cracks as she asks.

"About him?" You look at her puzzled.

"My son, he was so young when he disappeared that I- what's he like?" Rei questioned, her eyes wide.

"Touya... Touya he's-" You start and choke back the tears that are trying to fall. "He's an idiot. He doesn't think before he jumps into danger because he's not afraid to die... that's how we met actually." You smile fondly as you wipe the small drops of water off your cheeks.

"I was supposed to just do recon for the League, my first solo mission. But it was a trap and the heroes had me cornered. I didn't know what to do- I froze. I was ready to give up. Then Touya just kind of showed up, right in front of me. Didn't even think twice."

Rei hesitantly smiles as she nods, "That sounds a lot like Touya, glad to know he didn't lose that part of him."

"He's protective, that's for sure. Got jealous easily... whenever they'd send me on missions without him he'd find some way to tag along. I think that ever since we met, it was like he felt he had to protect me... like he was afraid to ever lose me" you start to cry and let your head fall into your hands.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry dear. I didn't mean to make you cry," Rei frowns.

"I love him so much... you created a beautiful son- I just miss him so much" you manage to sob out.

Rei nods, wiping her own tears, “what else do you love about him?”

“He was honest with me… he told me about you all too, before we even started dating…”

Rei freezes, but continues listening.

“He’s a great listener. Lets me talk about anything. And god, when you get him started, he never shuts up…” You smile to yourself. “What I’d do to hear his stupid voice again…”

"He's going to be okay... he's recovering..." She smiles reassuringly but with a pang of sadness.

"Can you tell him something for me the next time you see him?" You ask her hopefully. Rei nods in response.

"No goodbyes, I'll see you soon, idiot." you smile and finally lift your head to meet Rei's eyes once more. She smiles and nods.

You didn’t think this was how you’d meet your future mother-in-law, but your relationship with Touya had never been predictable anyways.

[futuremrscameron]

angel!reader

content warnings: referenced child abuse, attempted murder, religious psychosis, delusions of grandeur, mentioned patricide, chronic migraines, blasphemy, violence, blood, religious symbolism, mentions of drug abuse, breeding kink, suicidal ideation, stabbing, violent thoughts, religious imagery, toxic relationship

angel!reader technically a pogue but she lives just outside of obx so she doesn’t fit into the category

angel!reader lives in a house house that’s decrepit and falling apart because she doesn’t wanna “forget the damage”

angel!reader grew up in a small southern town with her father who resented her for “killing” her mother

angel!reader saw church as her safe place because her father wasn’t there. he was usually too drunk from the previous night’s ventures to go + he hated god for taking his wife away from him

angel!reader suffers from chronic migraines. they started when she was five and she learned how to treat them herself so she wouldn’t have to ask her father for help. she tried that once and had to sit through hours of yelling about how she “killed his wife and had the nerve to talk about her pain”

angel!reader who would ask god for guidance on what to do about her father every day. she took actions into her own hands but she would prefer to believe that god steered her to those abandoned ropes argue the church and the gasoline canister from the station. she really only counted her father’s lighter being on his nightstand instead of in his pocket like it usually is as luck

angel!reader knew she was destined for great things when the town rallied around her after the death of her father, pies at her doors, praying for her, telling her their door was always open, and offering to help clean up the damage caused by the fire

angel!reader already knows about the cross because religious items

angel!reader who gives all her money to tithe and is constantly struggling to make ends meet when she meets rafe and barry

the two men went to the house after receiving information about a pastor that knew the whereabouts of the cross of santo domingo but like many leads it was a dead end. or so they thought. the pastor, after some convincing, gave them the address of a member of the congregation that had been worrisome lately but they all brushed it off as grief.

he told them about her whispers of crosses and how she was planning on leaving he small town to find it.

when they arrived at the small house they found was a sweet looking girl who invited them inside for tea and cookies. she invites them in, tells them to make themselves at home, and disappears into the kitchen to check on her cookies.

barry knows something’s up but rafe tells him to chill and goes to look around. he finds the burned bedroom and realizes barry was right. then he hear him scream, it’s a feral, pained scream that he’s never heard from barry.

he rushes back downstairs and sees the “harmless” girl raising a switchblade over her head ready to bring it down on barry. he shoots her.

she falls on her back, clutching her shoulder, mumbling a prayer as rafe checks on barry. the stab wound is deep, he needs aid now. rafe ties the girl up, holds her at gunpoint, and makes her clean and close barry’s wound until they can get back to obx

angel!reader uses alcohol, her father’s lighter, and her sewing needle to fix barry up. she convinces rafe to untie her so he can stop her bleeding. she walks him through he using the lighter and her switchblade to cauterize her gunshot wound

angel!reader is more or less kidnapped by rafe and barry after the incident. she’s scared of dying because she believes she’s going to hell for killing her father, rafe of course uses this to manipulate her

angel!reader hates the way rafe makes her feel, she sees him as a temptress who’s trying to take her godliness (he is but not in the way she thinks)

angel!reader does not get along with the pogues. she believes they're troublemakers who have no care for anyone but themselves. the only one she befriends is pope because he's kind to her and wants the cross for "selfless reasons"

angel!reader believes rafe when he tells her they're after the cross of santo domingo to get it back to its rightful place, with the heywards

angel!reader who frowns when barry says she’s got “big brown soulless eyes” because when they met she stabbed barry in the gut and all he could do as he bled out was look at her big brown eyes staring down at him with contempt

angel!reader who feels a type of way whenever rafe calls her 'angel'

angel!reader had a breakdown before during and after rafe melted the cross

she told him not to but he wouldn’t listen. he didn’t care about his soul being damned to hell, that’s how she knew he was the devil.

when she got there he was watching the fire consume the cross with glee in his eyes. barry stood a good distance away, taking a swig of beer and shaking his head in disbelief every couple seconds.

“how could you?” barry has the decency to look ashamed but rafe? he doesn’t even look at her, too entrances by the fire.

“you knew this was coming.”

“i told you not to.”

“you should know better than anyone else, when .”

were still setting up their makeshift furnace

angel!reader swears to get revenge on rafe and barry after because they've "desecrated the cross"

angel!reader becomes a genuine problem when she visits limbrey and gets information on rafe’s potential dealings. she plans on killing anyone who plans on buying the gold pieces

angel!reader is stopped by rafe when he finds her tailing him to his meet up with a client. they tussle for a bit, she pins him down but she can’t bring herself to kill him. she sobs into his chest and asks him why he did it, why he betrayed her, why he burned the cross. it’s a ‘come to god’ moment for him (no pun intended)

angel!reader misses her church back at home so she joins the congregation of obx’s church and quickly rises through the ranks and uses it for its community

angel!reader hangs out with barry even when rafe’s not around. barry may find her scary but it’s fun to listen to her read the bible while high and if she’s in a particularly good mood shit talk members of her congregation.

angel!reader keeps rafe on his toes with her perception of him, allowing him to be seen not as a devil but as a dimmed angel. the way she sees him makes him wanna keep her all to himself, he’s scared to fuck up now because he’s scared of losing one of the few people that he has left

—————————————————————————

i hope y’all liked this one, i’ve been working on it for a while and i’m excited to hear y’alls thoughts as always feedback, praise, and criticism is welcome (keep it classy though) <3

[peakygirl1919]

Part 1: The Bloody Beginning

Summary: The Emperor is dying, but Geta takes matters into his own hands.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: no spoilers for the movie// angst// violence// death// implied past abuse// period typical warnings

It was silent in the Palatine; save for the rustle of silk and the moans of a dying man. Septimus Severus was dying. It was treason to say so: any, whether they be slave, servant or senator who mentioned it would be executed-  but it was true. 

Geta stared at the man he had looked up to all his life lying weak and emaciated on the bed. Death seemed to have shrunk him, his hair greasy and matted on his forehead and his beard coming away in patches. He had fallen ill while on a campaign in Britannica, an mild wound putrifying until it was grave enough to endanger the life of the emperor. 

He was currently lurking behind a plinth in the Emperor’s bedchamber, his brother Caracalla crouched behind him, mild whimpers escaping from his mouth, his hand clenching Geta’s leg. 

His father wasn’t lucid right now, and for that he was thankful. When the Praetorians carried him in, he was roaring with rage, spittle flying from his mouth. Geta could not believe his usually cool father could make such noises. His mother, Julia Domna had tried to placate the Emperor, but had received a strike to head in thanks. It was at that point Geta had retreated to the shadows of the chamber, thinking it would be best not to get in the way and somehow bring the familiar wrath upon his head. 

More moans left his father’s dry and cracked lips, and a sheen of sweat lay over body. His mother had now taken up guard by his bedside, a delicate handkerchief pressed to cut on her cheek, despite the strong stench of death flowing from the man. Her eyes were empty as the cloth was stained red. 

The oil lamps flickered and grew dim as the hours passed by. It was a clear night, and Geta could see the moon’s reflection over the city that stretched out before them. The news of the Emperor’s imminent departure to the next life had the citizens concerned; they knew the transfer of power was no sure thing. The vibrant stores that lined the Via Sacra were boarded up; no noises came from the pleasure houses and street food vendors absent. Silence fell over the great city- a collective breath holding. 

The only place that showed evidence that people still remained in the city was the light that burst from the temples. Geta wished he could join the worshippers, and beg for favour from the Gods.

A whisper made its way across the room, and Geta instantly stiffened, the blood draining from his face and the hairs on his neck standing on edge. This was it. 

‘Geta…, come, my son…’. His father was calling him over.

Caracalla’s whimpers turned into cries, and Geta reached down to smooth his hair trying to pretend they were still boys, playing hide and seek in many rooms in the palace.

His gold-trimmed sandals made no sound crossing the marble floor; he felt like he was floating.

The whisper of his name became more insistent, even in death his Father had no patience for him. He moved forward towards the imperial bed, and knelt down next to the edge. His Father already appeared corpse-like; his bloated skin taking already hanging from his bones. 

He glanced pointedly at his mother, but she either did not notice or take heed from it. If she had, then perhaps her fate would have been different. Geta noted her disrespect and stored it in the back of his mind, he would deal with everyone once he had power.

Prior to the Emperor’s departure for his most recent and evidently final military campaign, he had been named co-augusti to rule in his stead alongside Caracalla. It would not do thinking what would occur if Caracalla had been left to rule on his own. 

‘Geta, you are to listen to me carefully. My time is short, I know that, despite the sycophantic crowing from all that I will live. I am not a fool. You will reign, this I know,’

Geta sharply inhaled. 

His father’s bloodshot eyes locked onto him with fervour, and Geta felt like the Gods themselves had plucked his thoughts from his head and planted them into his fathers. 

‘You will reign alongside your brother,’ 

Geta began to protest, the madness that had been evident from his brother’s birth grew worse by the year, his lucid moments becoming further apart.

His father began to cough, blood and sputum flowing from his mouth like the Tiber. The Gods would claim his soon, Geta thought, not without a spark of anticipation. With clear effort, his father continued on.

‘You are as strong as your weakness, protect him, do not quarrel with him, it will be set against the other that you both shall fall’ The Emperor took a deep breath, his pale chest struggling to rise. He seemed panicked now, no longer so brave in the face of death. He spoke rapidly and breathlessly ‘Pay the soldiers, never allow a united senate and scorn all others.’

This last point was but an echo of a whisper, Geta felt the words imprint on his mind. Scorn alright. He would obliterate the others. 

He felt his mother’s quiet gaze return to the floor, no doubt weighing in her calculating mind what her next advantageous play would be. 

But the bubble of quiet reverence had been broken. Caracalla began to wail and scream, throwing himself to the floor in his fractured state. Geta looked at him and felt no pity, only acceptance. He had always been this way, still a child in many ways. Sometimes Geta envied him for his ignorance, but sometimes Geta hated him with a red fiery passion. How could it be fair that he was the younger brother taking on the mantle of the older. How could it be fair that he had to shoulder the responsibility for both of them? But whenever these thoughts struck him he reasoned the Gods must have placed him in this position for a reason. That reason was clear to Geta now. 

It was the will of the Gods that Geta took his place on the throne. With Caracalla, technically by his side. But that was a minor detail. One that could be solved, if he so wished, but he did not. At least he knew where his brother’s loyalties lay. 

He felt heat pool in his belly as he thought of the future. But he couldn’t ahead of himself. Not yet. His father was still in the realm of the living, his mother plotted against him, and the loyalty of the army and senate had not yet been secured. There was work to do. 

Caracalla had moved on from simply harming himself and now began to tear the decorative hangings and tapestries off the wall; knocking over busts of Emperors past and topple furniture. Must he do everything in this family, Geta thought to himself. 

He spoke with new-found authority to his mother, Julia Domna, ‘why don’t you see to my brother, ensure he does himself no harm. It is not good for my father the emperor to see him so distressed at this time,’. He tried to hide the excitement he felt at taking that tone with her, and still his racing heart. 

He felt himself, be weighed, measured and found wanting by his mother. She made no reply as she stood up and went over to Caracalla. He clung to her robes and cried loudly into her stomach. Julia Domna stood with her arms at her side and held herself rigid, hands slack. She guided Caracalla away, back to his own chambers no doubt, where he could be comforted by whoever was warming his bed tonight. Geta turned back to face his father. He had no wish to see his mother’s empty platitudes. 

Geta was finally alone with his father. The only noise was the death rattle of his chest as his body continued to fight the inevitable. Geta walked closer and closer to the bed, uncaringly stepping over the broken glass and wooden splinters littered over the floor. 

The flecks of gold in Geta’s dark eyes flashed in the dim light as his face pressed close to his father’s face. He saw clearly that the Gods had renounced their favour and protection from the Emperor, with every passing breath his father seemed more man than immortal Emperor chosen by the gods.

He slipped a dagger from his belt. It was a small thing, for ceremonial use only. But he reasoned this was a ritual of sorts, and it felt fitting. The light weight of it felt heavy in his hands; the weight of consequence. 

It had a golden hilt, with a careful depiction of the twin founders of Rome with the she-wolf standing protectively over them. Her eyes were set with winking rubies, and Geta felt their divine stare upon him. 

His father did not see the metallic shine of steel in the moonlight; did not hear the grunt of effort as the blade was thrust into his chest; did not feel Geta’s fist bracing itself against his shoulder; did not taste the coppery salt of his blood dripping from his lips; did not smell Geta’s spice and incense scent as he leaned over to remove the knife. 

No, his father would not notice anything anymore. Geta watched the red blood bloom against the pale of the sheets, as his father gurgled and turned translucent. The dagger was slick in his fingers, coated with blood.

He let it drop from his hands, the clatter it made on cool marble flooring obscene. Its purpose was served. He had prevailed. His father was dead. The emperor was dead. 

He felt laughter bubble up inside him, but he knew the gods would not approve of humour at this most sacred of moments- when he had been made their vessel, through which their divine judgement had been rendered.

A high-pitch giggle broke the silence and Geta tensed, almost checking it was not him that made that noise. But it was his twin; his other-half. Caracalla must had wandered back into the room and had been standing there for Gods knows how long. 

Geta didn’t know how to break the silence- and was about to speak when Caracalla said, ‘He’s dead,’ in a soft, airy voice. Geta nodded. 

‘You did this for us? For both of us?,’. Geta nodded again, not trusting himself to remain emotionless if he answered using his voice. 

‘Well, this will make things more interesting…’ Caracalla trailed off, as if not sure exactly how things would become more interesting, but certain in the knowledge that they would. 

The brothers could have stayed there in that moment, forever. On the cusp between childhood and adulthood; the uncertain intake of breath before moving on from one stage of life to next. Caracalla was often happy to remain in this shapeless place, not concerning himself with reality, with the practicalities. 

But Geta knew had to act to control the narrative, to seize control of the guards, to summon the senate, and to proclaim his divine authority- and to protect his brother. 

Caracalla stalked over to the body of his father and gave his rapidly cooling body a poke in the stomach. His finger came away stained red. Geta turned away and reached over to a bell to summon a servant, letting the collected mask of his face fall, allowing his anxiety and nerves to rule him for a moment. 

The slave drifted into the room silently, eyes cast downwards, not wishing to bring Geta’s rage upon his head. 

Geta looked up and snapped his face back into one of cool arrogance and hard eyes. ‘Summon the senate, the first proclamation from their emperors is to be heard.’ 

The slaves hastily bowed and darted away. 

During the exchange Caracalla had slipped beside him and grasped his hand, their father’s blood sealing their palms. 

‘What do we do now?’, Caracalla asks hesitantly, glancing at Geta from lidded eyes. 

Geta paused, before answering with a smirk on his face, ‘Whatever we want.’

A/N: well…. that was dramatic. Apologies to those looking for historical accuracy- I played around with the death of Septimus Severus (he didn’t make it back to Rome and died on a military campaign); and anything else wrong is my fault, sorry!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are encouraged and greatly appreciated. 

Let me know if you would like this series to continue, and if so, what other snippets of Geta’s life you would like to see…

TAGS:

@fallout-girl219

@justnobodynothingmore

@quuinyoung

@barcelonaloverf1life

@helsa3942

@aisling1985

[reallypleasanttree]

Playing around with a potential backstory for the Iguro Clan

The comb’s teeth bit into his scalp. He tried his best not to wince in front of his mother. The comb ran through his dark hair. She would do it until his hair shone under the candlelight. His mother made sure he was presentable at all times. 

She paused and set the jade comb down and brushed her hand through his hair searching for any imperfections. Obanai closed his eyes, it was relaxing to have his hair played with. Her hands found no snags and he could sense her satisfaction.

“My darling boy,” his mother praised him and leaned forward to kiss the back of his head. “It’s nearly your birthday. Do you know what that means?”

He shook his head and turned to face her. Everyone in the Iguro clan looked the same. Dark hair, teal blue eyes, and a wide, sweet smile. His mother was no different. He was the odd one with his golden right eye. 

“What does that mean?” Obanai asked, hiding his hands under his long sleeves. 

“You will meet our lady. She’s been waiting for you for years,” she said, all her teeth shone. There was something unnerving that he could not place. It was the same way his heart quickened at night when he heard something moving around the floorboards. 

“Nearly 400 years for a child like you,” she added. He heard of their lady before, but he did not have the honor of meeting her yet. She was quite busy, protecting their family from the terrors of the world and ensuring their future happiness. It was part of the reason they kept him here. For his safety. He glanced at the wooden frame around him. Obanai had lived here ever since he could remember. 

“Like me?” He repeated quietly. She placed her hand under his chin, lifting his face to hers. 

“Yes, a child who resembled her,” she said, her thumb brushing against his right temple. “She has the same golden eyes you have. You are a special child, Obanai.” His mother, aunts, grandmother, and cousins all called him special. She dropped her hand. 

“I think it’s about time you learned about our clan’s history,” his mother said. “Our lady was born over 400 years ago. Her name was Tanaka Niko. She was the daughter of a high lord from the mainland. She was well read and took a special interest in medicine. She was an apothecary and specialized in toxins. At her betrothal ceremony, she met her future husband, a man from the Iguro clan. Iguro Masashi was quite handsome, dark hair and eyes the color of the sea.” His mother pointed to her own. 

“They married and were happy for many years. Their passions were well matched and their ambition for wealth, knowledge, and fortune. Masashi even indulged his beloved wife. He allowed Niko to continue studying and working as an apothecary. In return, she gave him eight girls, each one had his sea colored eyes. He was a good father and provider, but with each girl, he grew frustrated. He needed an heir to carry on the Iguro name-”

“But, we are still here. If-” Obanai interrupted. His mother shook her head and pinched his chin.

“What did I tell you about interrupting others?” She asked, pinching harder. He began to open his mouth again, but paused. If he spoke again, she would scold him. Obanai pursed his lips in a thin line. “That’s my sweet boy. Always following the rules.” She looked up briefly, trying to recall where she left off. 

“Niko took all types of tonics, wore talismans, and other ways to conceive a boy. She desperately wanted to give her husband a boy. She fell pregnant again and the babe was stillborn. It had been a boy with her golden eyes. The treasured boy lost before he could take a breath. It was the final straw for Masashi. 

He took a concubine to produce the boy he needed to carry on his name. Yuri was a woman of lower social standing, but she was quite beautiful and young compared to Niko. She had nine pregnancies in eighteen years. It took a toll on her body and appearance. 

Her husband stopped coming to her bed in favor of Yuri, who soon gave birth to the treasured boy. Masashi made the boy his heir immediately, setting aside Niko’s daughters. Niko was outraged by the decision though she never showed it. When she saw Masashi hold the boy and walk beside Yuri, she knew the love Masashi once had for her was gone. 

Her husband betrayed Niko and she would make him pay for putting her and their daughters aside. Secretly, Niko purchased a tawny-gold snake. In the middle of the night, she took the snake meaning to place it in the boy’s crib. However, a maid saw her and alerted the lord’s guard. She was arrested before the snake could harm the boy. 

He placed her in a cell along with their daughters. Niko begged for mercy, but Masashi could not be swayed. Niko and his daughters meant little to him now. 

The night after, an immortal appeared before Niko. Long black hair and red eyes. He promised to help her if she agreed to work for him as an apothecary and the search for the blue spider lily. She took his offer and ascended to another existence. She became faster and stronger. With her new body, she was able to take her revenge on Masashi, Yuri, and their boy.” His mother stopped, contemplating how and if she should continue. 

“The rest of the story will have to wait until you meet our lady,” she said. Obanai bowed his head and she left. 

If he asked her to finish the story, she would discipline him. His eyes widened recalling how she bruised his arm last week when he asked to be let out of the cage. And then, he recalled the words she used. 

“No, you must remain safe inside. You are our treasured boy.”

Her words chilled him to the bone. 

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 77

While Mosspounce’s bruises heal, the broken bone takes one of Downstar’s lives.

[Image ID: Mosspounce and Downstar are healed. Under Mosspounce, it says - CONDITION: BRUISES. Under Downstar, it says - CONDITION: BROKEN BONE, LIVES LEFT: 2.]

(Mosspounce: 38, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Downstar: 136, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

A rogue asks the Clan to care for their son, Shrew, now that he is weaned.

[Image ID: Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Waspdawn find a red kit. Under the three of them, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING. Under the kit, it says NEW PLAYER: SHREWKIT, 1, MALE, BOSSY, NEVER SITS STILL.]

---

There were no safe patrols anymore. In Oilstripe’s mind, she could see what Anchovypaw reported every time he returned from patrol; black ichor smearing the grass and trees, the spiritual residue of monsters that lurked in the corner of your eye. Everyone knew that was why Silverpaw never returned to camp. Perhaps it was also why Oilstripe never saw the young molly’s spirit. Troutpool’s dreams simply told her Silverpaw had made it to the stars… eventually. That was why no apprentice could leave camp alone. That was why even the senior warriors asked for a few extra eyes to accompany them, even when not on patrol.

Today, Oilstripe had Carnationspeckle and Waspdawn to watch her back as they marked their borders. Haunted or not, RippleClan couldn’t give Gentlestar or Eelstar any ideas about expanding their territory in RippleClan’s time of crisis. They patrolled along AshClan's border first, spreading their scent wherever it smelled weak.

"Do you think anyone over there mourned for Weedfoot?" Carnationspeckle asked as Waspdawn finished marking a tree that sat right on the border.

"I'm sure of it," Oilstripe huffed.

"She saved their flanks," Waspdawn muttered, rejoining the couple. "They should be honored my mother deigned to help them." Deep within AshClan territory, the spirit of one of their warriors strolled through the trees. Even though they ignored Oilstripe, she felt the need to dip her head to the StarClan warrior. They could have killed one of the Ashes in the Water, for all she knew, but it felt right. It felt like the sort of diplomacy a deputy should show the former members of a different Clan.

"Who's that?" Carnationspeckle asked, her gaze following Oilstripe's. The ginger molly startled. Did her mate see the spirit too? But then Waspdawn's focus settled on something within the trees. Oilstripe's shock faded when a tortoiseshell, a living tortoiseshell, walked through the StarClan ghost. She carried a bright red kit in her jaws. The kit had a sharp blaze of white on his forehead that reminded Oilstripe of a star, or a half-moon set against a sunset. Oilstripe didn't recognize the tortoiseshell, but she knew her escorts. Barkfur walked beside the tortoiseshell, with Heronflank and newly graduated warrior Fernwhisper behind them.

"Ah, Deputy Oilstripe," Barkfur sighed as he approached the border. "Good, good. It's better we don't wait around."

"Who's this little tom?" Carnationspeckle purred, sniffing the red kitten.

"I'm Shrew," the kitten declared, wiggling as much as he could with his scruff in his mother's mouth. "Mom, let me go!" Shrew's mother obliged, placing her son at her paws. Shrew immediately tried to race off, but his mother hooked a paw around him.

"You're not an AshClan cat," Waspdawn noted.

"I hail from the northwest," the queen explained. "I… I've heard stories that the Clans take in kits whose mothers can't care for them."

"We…" Carnationspeckle said, blinking rapidly as she processed what the queen wanted. "We do. My daughter was one of those kits."

"We found her wandering our territory," Barkfur said. "We explained to her that AshClan isn't taking in cats from outside the Clan, but that RippleClan may be more open to assisting her."

"And we will, if that's what you want," Waspdawn said, dipping his head to the queen. "But.. why can't you care for Shrew?"

"He's the last of his litter," the queen sighed as Shrew, oblivious to the adults around him, nipped at his mother's grasp. "They all fell ill, I'm worried it's in their blood. I thought Clan medicine could help my son."

"He seems healthy to me," Carnationspeckle hummed. Shrew finally broke away from his mother and tumbled across the border. He chomped onto Oilstripe's leg with sharp kitten teeth. Oilstripe yelped and batted the excitable kit off.

"Very healthy," Waspdawn chuckled.

"So did his siblings," the queen gulped.

"You don't have to give him away," Oilstripe explained as Shrew gawked at Waspdawn's half-tail. "You can join RippleClan as well. We've accepted a few mothers in your position."

"I can't," the queen whined, flinching. "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm destined for the Other Side. I don't belong here. I waited until he, he, he was weaned, but… this is better. He deserves better than me." The queen looked to Barkfur and sighed, "I'm ready to go now."

"RippleClan will treat your son well," Barkfur promised. "We'll escort you to the river." He nodded to Heronflank and Fernwhisper, ready to depart.

"That's it?" Oilstripe huffed as Shrew finally paid attention to his mother. "No, you… you should tell your son something."

"Tell me what?" Shrew cocked his head. The queen stared back, her posture stiff. She swallowed hard. She kept opening her mouth, ready to explain, but she lost her courage each time.

"I'll see you in a while, Shrew," she finally croaked. She spun around before she could falter. Heronflank and Fernwhisper led Barkfur and the queen through the thick blankets of golden needles, under the gray-speckled leaves that clung to the trees, refusing to acknowledge the coming winter.

"You didn't give us your name!" Carnationspeckle suddenly yowled. Yet the queen didn't turn back. Her escort led her farther and farther from her only remaining kit.

"I know her name," Shrew huffed. "It's Mom."

A short while later, Shrew sat in the nursery while Troutpool put her nose in his ear, checking for fever. Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Downstar sat around her, waiting for a diagnosis. Shrew laughed when Troutpool pulled her nose out. He itched his ear and ogled the Clan's vast medicine stores.

"He needs a better diet," Troutpool sighed, "but he's a healthy young tom. I don't see any signs of disease."

"Could his mother have lied about his littermates?" Downstar asked Oilstripe. "Perhaps she just wanted an excuse to give her child away."

"Why don't you ask her?" Shrew shot back, a tiny paw reaching for a pot. "She said she's coming back." Troutpool gently shoved his paw away.

"He doesn't understand," Carnationspeckle whispered. "I think he's too young."

"We could have Paleseed explain things to him," Downstar suggested.

"Maybe we let him believe that until he's settled into RippleClan," Carnationspeckle said.

"Mom?" Rattlepelt and Wildclaw trotted to the medicine den, peering around the older mollies. Leaves clung to Rattlepelt's fox pelt, mixing with the carefully woven lavender. Wildclaw crouched and scanned under Downstar's legs.

"Hi, Rattlepelt," Carnationspeckle purred, absent-mindedly touching her daughter's nose before turning back to Shrew. "We're a little busy right now. Can we talk later?"

"Halibut told us about the kit," Wildclaw huffed. "Rattlepelt insisted we meet him."

"That's a bit of a bold word," Rattlepelt chuckled. "I just suggested we stop by the medicine den."

"What are you?" Shrew gaped at Rattlepelt with giant blue eyes. There was no fear in his stare, like when a new apprentice met Rattlepelt at a Gathering and Oilstripe had to hide their shock from her adopted daughter. His gaze was more like emerging from the darkest level of the ocean into the sun.

"I'm a cat," Rattlepelt laughed. She squeezed around Carnationspeckle and sat next to Shrew. "My name is Rattlepelt, and this is my mate, Wildclaw." Shrew put his paws on Rattlepelt's fox pelt and his eyes grew bigger. He shoved his face into the red fur, purring.

"You're so soft!" Shrew gasped.

"Why don't you play with it?" Rattlepelt suggested. "Just be very careful." Rattlepelt slipped off her fox pelt and laid it in front of Shrew.

"You can take your fur off?" Shrew squealed. While that idea would have disturbed Oilstripe at Shrew's age, the little kit simply dove into the leather pelt, rolling in the well-groomed fur. Wildclaw laughed, and even Downstar managed to chuckle.

"I heard your mother asked us to take care of you," Rattlepelt said, laying beside Shrew. "My mother did the same thing when I was a kit. It was a little scary, but I'm glad she gave me up. I got Carnationspeckle and Oilstripe as my new mothers, and I'm very happy in RippleClan."

"You can have more than one mom?" Shrew sat up, the fox's tail covering his face.

"You can," Rattlepelt purred. She gazed tenderly at Shrew as he sniffed the fox pelt's lavender accents. She turned to Wildclaw, beckoning her inside. Wildclaw sat by her mate, similarly entranced by the little red kitten.

"You know, Shrew," Wildclaw purred, "now that you're staying with us, you'll get to sleep in the nursery. We don't want you to be lonely in there. If you want, Rattlepelt and I can move in with you. You can share a nest with us."

"Can I sleep with this?" Shrew asked, his teeth digging into the fox pelt.

"You can," Rattlepelt laughed, voice catching. She turned to Wildclaw, whispering, "Are you sure you want this? I don't want to hurt him."

"When it's just you in there," Wildclaw chuckled, gently batting Rattlepelt's head, "you'd die before you hurt a kit. You'll be great." Wildclaw and Rattlepelt snuggled against each other.

"Congratulations," Troutpool chirped, bunting her older sister. "Oh, I get to be an aunt! I'll make sure there's a nest ready for you." She squirmed around the other mollies and hurried to the nursery, squealing like a kit.

"Welcome to grandmotherhood, you two," Downstar chuckled, playfully nudging Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle.

"My heart was not ready for this," Oilstripe laughed awkwardly, trying to breathe.

"Shrew, from now on, you can call me Grandma," Carnationspeckle declared, diving to Shrew's level.

"I will!" Shrew chirped, utterly unaware of the implications. Carnationspeckle squealed and pressed against Rattlepelt with a deep purr. Oilstripe joined the family gathering, her heart expanding to make way for her bright, enthusiastic grandson.

(Oilstripe: 81, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 79, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Waspdawn: 43, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Shrewkit: 1, male, kit, bossy, never sits still)

(Troutpool: 38, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Downstar: 136, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Rattlepelt: 60, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Wildclaw: 69, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

Moontide, Vervaincough, Anchovystrike, and Billowhaze graduate from their apprenticeships together.

[Image ID: Moontide, Vervaincough, Anchovystrike, and Billowhaze are all grown up! Under Moontide, it says LEVEL UP! MOONPAW → MOONTIDE, QUICK TO HELP → EXCELLENT TEACHER. Under Vervaincough, it says LEVEL UP! VERVAINPAW → VERVAINCOUGH, BLOODTHIRSTY → INSECURE, LOVES NATURE → UNDERSTANDS NATURE, QUICK TO MAKE PEACE → GOOD MEDIATOR. Under Anchovystrike, it says LEVEL UP! ANCHOVYPAW → ANCHOVYSTRIKE, CURIOUS ABOUT STARCLAN → DEEP STARCLAN BOND. Under Billowhaze, it says LEVEL UP! BILLOWPAW → BILLOWHAZE, THOUGHTFUL → LOYAL, ACTIVE IMAGINATION → GOOD KITSITTER.]

(Moontide: 12, female, warrior, playful, excellent teacher)

(Vervaincough: 12, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)

(Anchovystrike: 12, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Billowhaze: 12, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)

During their assessments, Currentpaw and Yarrowpaw find a former kittypet/Witch Hunter interested in joining the Clan. He takes on the name Venturedapple and becomes a codekeeper.

[Image ID: Currentpaw and Yarrowpaw stare at a long-furred brown and white tom. Under the tom, it says NEW PLAYER: VENTUREDAPPLE, 65, MALE, COLD, ELOQUENT SPEAKER.]

(Currentpaw: 12, male, caretaker, loving, constantly climbing, has lots of ideas)

(Yarrowpaw: 12, female, warrior apprentice, thoughtful, stares at fire)

(Venturedapple: 65, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

[creatingblackcharacters]

dia duit! i hope you are well. before i start my ask, i just wanted to say i rlly appreciate ur blog and the MASSIVE amount of work u do, its a testament to ur character and the website as a whole is better off bcs of u.

i was just wondering whether i could get input from yourself, or you followers, abt a character in a story i am writing currently. i myself am a white irish guy, and my story is set in a rural coastal village in the south west of ireland. one of two main characters is a Black woman called mary francis. her dad is a Black man from america whom her white irish mother met while working in america in her twenties, and they moved to ireland, back to the village mary's mam is from, when mary was a toddler. her dad was a professor of literature in [insert american university here], but tbh he didnt like lecturing much bcs he's not a massive fan of public speaking and so when they moved to ireland he rlly appreciated the solitude and space and time to read, and currently he works remotely for an irish university writing articles and the like. mary herself works at and runs the local newsagents, and she is the captain of the parish camogie team. she is a pov character and central to the stories conflict, which is based vaguely off the corrib gas controversy (when shell was extracting gas off the coast of a gaeltacht village, which protested the gas pipe and the onshore gas production as being dangerous to them and the wildlife, and were met with disgusting and disproportionate opposition from the gardaí (irish cops) and private security firms). mary is the head of the protest group against the company doing the mining of a strange new (unearthly) fuel found under the sea off the coast of her village.

my questions centre around 2 concerns. first is that mary is a Black woman in a small rural irish village and ofc there would be some prejudice and anti-Blackness directed towards her. however, i dont want her to be disconnected from her community and have her side of the story be a pure miseryfest while the white characters are havin a grand time. im torn between havin a realistic portrayal of the genuine struggles and racism Black people have to face in ireland, and not wanting mary to be disproportionally unhappy. altho the story deals with a lot of heavy things (environmental destruction, the impact of colonialism on the physical and emotional landscape of a place, neo capitalism, grief, etc) at the end of the day it is a fantasy story with a fair amount of escapism, and i dont want realism to come at the expense of the escapism of Black readers. i know there would be many different opinions on this ofc but i was hoping perhaps ur Black irish followers if u have any might weigh in le bhur dtoil a chairde?

the second concern is that in the real life controversy this story is (vry vry vry loosely) based off, the gardaí and private security firms used force against the protestors, which is true in my story as well, and im worried, given that mary is the head of the protest group and heavily active in protesting, there would be similarities to real life police brutality against Black people. do u have any thoughts/ideas/concerns abt this aspect of the story? as i said before, i dont want the story to be fierce traumatic for mary, and i was plannin that at protests the other protestors would make a point of protectin her and making sure she is alright and not letting the gardaí etc get near her.

thank u so much for all the effort and care that goes into running this blog, and i hope all goes well for u. sorry this ask is so long! also if anyone has any suggestions for what state/university mary's dad should be from, pls let me know bcs idk anythin abt america rlly. go n-éirí leat le gach rud atá á dhéanamh agat faoi láthair a chara <3333

Dia duit! I must admit, I respect so much that you're using Irish in this! I know that's right 😤 make me look that shit up! Thank you for introducing me to the game of camogie, that's some new level sportery. And thank you 🙏🏾

Mary Francis 🤣 yeah this is Irish, all right.

Well first, pick an HBCU!!! omg please pick an HBCU for Black Dad to graduate from, I would love that. They're organized by state on there, and granted if you don't know any states that's fine but given his background, maybe pick one with a literature program that stands out to you? Howard, Clark Atlanta, and Morehouse are easy ones too.

As for your story, well... You don't have to surround the story in her trauma. Like, there doesn't HAVE to be some overtly racist mf in her face making her life difficult. But you cannot have police violence in the story, via the police fighting against the protestors, without recognizing that yeah, there is gonna be some... Racial Context as to how we will be treated, or how her words will be translated versus if someone else had spoken them. For example, very often a Black woman and nonblack woman can say the very same thing, but only the Black woman will be deemed "aggressive" for it. So as a leader, she's gonna have to swallow stuff like that.

You mention that the other protestors recognize her position, and will try to keep her safe. That's another good example. In that, make sure you're able to convey WHY that is important. You don't have to say outright "well we've gotta protect Mary Francis because she's Black". Just a showing of the allyship in the moment, of people checking on her, of noticing when people are being more aggressive with her than they are with her nonblack and white peers- both when they're there and when she's on her own. Integrating things like that allow us as the readers to know that there are moments where her race is affecting how she's being treated. Because in real life, that's how it goes down. It's never really Stated, it's just a fact of life. Most of dealing with racism is just that; day to day microaggressive shit you have to maneuver.

And you're welcome!

[pixeltwix]

⚠️Emma May & Ciphertology⚠️

-Backpacking off of my theory from yesterday!! Very long text post incoming-

I’m of the mind where not only do I believe Emma May’s family was in a cult, but that they continued to practice its teachings after being disbanded. From here this is just my own personal ramblings as I have a very long and personal take on Emma May and Fiddleford’s lives and history as a whole and separately. Today will be dedicated to Em’s side (ft her families designs as well :3 )

Emma May’s father, Dale Dixon, is the older brother of Madeline Dixon- the teenage girl who was one of the first to be swayed by this Silas Birchtree. It’s implied she fell for him in place of her boyfriend at the time, but I choose to believe this was a lingering affection she’d keep for life in her worship.

Being a young man at the birth, peak, and end of Ciphertology already with a wife and children, Dale was too closely wooed by the teachings of Silas and the inter-dimensional being that was Bill Cipher. He was a bit of a cult kiss ass, if you will. He’d be the first to do whatever Silas would suggest or order of the cults people and the man was happy to do it. Be it shaving his head and painting on an eye or attempting to build the portal he had zero qualifications for alongside everyone else.

Naturally after the cult was disbanded and everyone was put into witness protection, while Dale accepted the state relocation for his family (to Virginia) he refused any government aid beyond that. Instead dragging his young family and sister into the woods where he constructed a shabby little home for them. A home where no one would contradict his word and he could continue the teachings of Ciphertology.

Emma May was born only a few short years later. And while her father had already named one of her older brothers as a namesake to his idol, Silas, her mother named her in turn for her secret idol, Emmaline Butternubbins. She knew Dale would never accept the original name, so she did what she could to compromise- it was a cope of sorts. Thelma Lou, Em’s mother, unfortunately has no say in her husbands madness and is slowly being broken down to the cult. While she had some resistance when Em was born it wouldn’t last too terribly long as soon every adult figure in the family believed in Ciphertology.

Growing up in the middle of nowhere Appalachia’s, Emma May didn’t have much outside influence other than the mini cult community her father had created over the years within neighboring people. She knew no different than the madness and basic cult ideas of ‘have as many kids and wives as you want just so we can create more followers’ sort of mindset. The only hiccup was that Emma May was never dumb, she wasn’t so easily swayed by the triangles teachings, she always internally questioned everything- no matter what adult was telling her things she always was left with a feeling of ‘is that really true though?’

She kept such thoughts to herself, assuming she wouldn’t have to actually do anything notable within the cult, she was shocked and horrified when at the age of 15 her father was bringing her before an older man to marry. An older man who already had a handful of wives. She knew even if she was older she wouldn’t want this life, seeing upfront her mothers decay in the cult and the mass of siblings that she had..she didn’t want that. She wanted an education, basic rights, and just? Freedom from this. She didn’t know if the outside world would be different, but at that point she didn’t much care. She wanted out and she needed out fast.

Running away from home before the official marriage ceremony she remains on the run until she makes it to Fredericksburg, VA. A bustling friendly town that otherwise left her feeling like she was in an alien world. She looked straight out of the early 1900s in a wave of hip and groovy late 1960’s styles. While she couldn’t read anymore than simple words she skimmed through the phone book of a nearby cafe, and while unable to find any Dixon outside of her indoctrinated family she found hope in searching for names under her mothers maiden name, ‘Finch’. 

Discovering a man in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, by the name of Benjamin Finch she manages to find her mothers estranged brother. A man her mother was forced to shun and block out the second he expressed concern over her involvement in a cult. Thankfully upon learning who she was he was more than happy to shelter her, albeit he only lived in a trailer as he practically lived in the museum he worked at. Making her way up the East coast, Emma May finds herself in Jersey, her uncle slowly acclimating her to modern life. Teaching her how to read, to write, and most importantly teaching her the reality of the world. Luckily he wasn’t a religious man of any sorts and rooted her in modern thoughts of science, feminism, and other new age ideas of the time.

Once he felt she was ready he let her attend Glass Shard High, getting the education she always wanted despite struggling to understand the basics. This didn’t get her down though as she was determined to graduate someday. Instead she tracks down local nerd and idea enthusiast, Stanford Pines, someone she hardly finds to be ‘a freak’ considering her cultish upbringing was beyond bizarre (plus she learned from an early age to find beauty in the ‘odd’ or ‘weird’) Befriending a young Ford and learning from him she also befriends Stan, someone who was more than willing to help her break out of her docile and dainty shell. Stan’s girlfriend at the time, Carla McCorkle was equally happy to teach her the modern idea of feminine rather than beaten to death old book concepts. Living in Jersey, in short, was slowly thawing her from the confines of her upbringing- developing into the life she always wanted and frankly? She was thriving!

She was also gaining her own beliefs in this time. Such as ‘marriage is stupid’ and ‘having kids is stupid, I’m never going to have them’ sort of mindset. Thanks to her upbringing she swore then and there that she would never have a family of her own. So, that’s what makes her next phase of life particularly ironic.

After the science project incident in senior year between the Pines brothers the friend circle would face a brutal falling out, the only one keeping in touch with everyone being Emma May herself. Stan is kicked out and the brothers aren’t talking, Carla breaks up with Stan and refuses any more connection to the Pines, and Em is left in limbo to comfort and appease everyone whilst ignoring her own feelings about it all. Between the late night girl talks with Carla, keeping Ford off the edge, and letting Stan stay with her in the trailer it was only a matter of time before her juggling attempts would fall.

And that’s exactly what happened- after Ford discovers she’s been harboring Stan he can’t help the rush of anger, insecurity, and betrayal that someone he considered his only friend left to hide that from him. Also afraid of losing a friend who’s done so much for her in her cult unlearning she’s quick to prove her loyalty. Packing her bags after graduation she joins Ford to Backupsmore to continue supporting him, taking up a diner job beside campus and shacking up in a cheap apartment. She continues secretly offering Stan money when she can as she still feels guilt for her decision, but it becomes less frequent as she’s now supporting herself financially on her own.

But of course her sole company of Ford wouldn’t last forever. Especially when all she tends to hear from him is how cool his roommate is and how’s he’s thrilled to be around another intellectual mind for once. And while he was hesitant to introduce his two friends to one another it was quick history after that-

Em absolutely deals with a lot of survivors guilt and general fear (lots of ‘I can’t believe I left my younger siblings behind, what if thEY were forced to marry that man in my place?!’ and ‘what if the cult tracks me down and forces me back home?!’) and on top of that I already feel she’s got some religious based ptsd and some bpd in there as well, but I think that would make her more endeared to Fiddleford when they first meet. A man who was pretty open about his own anxiety and ocd (idk if that’s a popular hc, but him having ocd makes so much sense to me) definitely helped her understand herself better and the two of them absolutely developed ways to help one another with it. They become each other’s safe spaces essentially <3

I feel like all of this is something I could talk about for hOURS, but I feel I’ve already typed up enough for today. So take this all as you will :) it’s just been super fun rewriting the story I had for her. I always envisioned her to be a teen runaway and living with her estranged uncle in Jersey, but now it makes even more sense plugging in my cult theory. But anywho, I hope this was an enjoyable for y’all to read as it was for me to type

[elderberries-and-honey]

One afternoon when Lawrence and Winifred fancied themselves a stroll through town, Winifred was hit by something she had referred to in childhood as 'colour storms'.

Colour storms were painful headaches, where colorful flashes of light would linger on the outside of her vision. She'd gotten them since she was a girl, usually brought on by stress. However, since meeting Lawrence, they were few and far between; he was just that calming to her.

But on that particular day, the migraine came on so suddenly, she couldn't help clutching her head, and gasping out from the pain.

"Winifred? What is it, my love?" Lawrence asked, immediately concerned for her.

"My head. It's like a stampede is running right through my skull!" She gasped, closing her eyes to block out some light. "I...I need to lie down, Lawrence, I'm sorry."

Carefully, he helped her guide her back to their room, taking slow, even steps along the way as to not cause her anymore pain.

"Just a little bit further, we're almost there." He said, sure to keep his voice soft. "It's been so long since you've had one of your storms, I'd nearly forgotten about them."

Winifred's colour storms became a regular occurrence. Days would pass, and she could hardly muster the strength to leave her bed. The curtains would need to be drawn shut, and the children were told not to disturb their mother or make too much noise - which they obeyed to the best of their ability.

For the first few days, Lawrence remained nearby in case he was able to help, but eventually, there was too much work to be done and he needed to allow Beth to care for his wife in his place.

Beth was tender, and soothing. When the storms were near the end, she'd always bring Winifred a hot cup of tea and sit with her for awhile, chatting about what the children had been up to and telling her about the local community gossip.

She was a good bedside nurse, and never wavered even when Winifred's migraines became coupled with nausea. Instead, she'd stay right at her side and help clean her up once the sick had passed her stomach.

After weeks of the illness, Beth presented her with an idea. "Mrs. Baudelaire, forgive me for my directness but...do you think it's possible you may be with child again?" She asked, wiping Winifred's mouth with a handkerchief to get rid of the sick left on the corner of her mouth.

Winifred was startled by the question. Twice now she had been pregnant, and neither pregnancy had been so...complicated. But as she counted the days between her monthlies, she realised that Beth had been right.

[gingacat]

twisted from: Myth of the Victoria Water Lily

name: Lily V. Maven

birthday: February 12 (Aquarius)

age: 16

height: 155 cm

homeland: Starway River, a river that starts in the Oniric Rainforest and crosses the Golden Cordilleras. (my fan made locations)

grade: Freshman

class: D

club: Film Research club

best subject: Astrology

worst subject: History of magic

dorm: Astromunay (my Yzma fan dorm)

hobbies: Stargazing

pet peeves: Heartless people

favorite food: Avocado with sugar

least favorite food: Meat

talent: Acrobatic diving

nicknames: Mavis (Cater), Seaweed (Floyd), Mademoiselle Clown (Rook), Leaf bug (Miyuu)

quotes:

“What am I doing? Well, I'm counting clouds. It sounds boring but it's lots of fun, I totally recommen— Hey?! Why are you walking away?!”

Personality

At first glance, Lily seems to be innocent and naive, but she is still a fae from the Oniric Rainforest, a place known for its mystical and mischievous creatures. She is a playful person who loves playing tricks on people and talking in ambiguous ways that leave others confused. She also finds it fun to pretend to be dumb, when in fact she's secretly really smart.

It's easy to get along with her, but you have to be careful not to believe 100% in what she says. She likes riddles and puzzles and expresses herself or her thoughts through either weird metaphors or by using sarcasm that sounds genuine. It is hard to know when she is joking and when she's not.

But Lily is not that complex, it's just her nature to act in a more playful way, she just wants to have fun and thinks her way of acting will also bring fun to other people. She likes teasing others, but if she sees that she has hurt someone, she'll immediately stop and apologize.

When she is upset, Lily becomes quiet and distant, seeming to be in an entirely different place inside of her head.

She is obsessed with astronomy and when someone awakens her love for it, she gets extremely excited, rambling about stars, planets, galaxies, the universe, etc. Lily gets really happy when people actually listen or are invested in what she says, loving to share an interest of hers to others.

Background

Her father, Levi, is a water fae and her mother, Rosario, is a wood fae. Lily is their only child.

Her parents were always fighting, always stressed by their own personal lives, and the overall mood of the household was dark, sorrowful. Levi was fond of Space though, and he enjoyed taking Lily to go stargazing. Ever since she was very young, she was enamored with the stars.

Lily's first memory with stargazing was unforgettable. She remembers she was very upset that day and couldn't stop crying because she was the reason her parents had fought. Not wanting his daughter to be sad, Levi took her to see how beautiful the sky looked that night. For the first time in her life, Lily had seen something that wasn't gloomy nor dark, but shining so bright that it had touched her heart. Just as she was looking at the stars, the stars were looking back at her, embracing her with all their warm and beautiful luster.

Lily imagined how it would be like to be there, shining right next to the Moon. She wanted to be like the stars, who make people happier, who brighten people's moods even when everything seems to be horrible, even when the entire world seems to be so dark and so lonely.

Although, because of her mischievous nature, she eventually found a more playful way to shine and bring joy: by making others laugh.

Trivia

Her age is counted in human years because her mother is half-human and half-fae so Lily is not 100% fae. (i had to humanize Lily bc fae years are just so complicated 😭)

Lily mispronounces Diasomnia for Dysnomia, the name of a moon. Sebek keeps correcting her, but she never gets it right. (she's doing it on purpose)

She can breathe underwater.

Lily is very interested in scientific theories and loves debating about them. (ex: wormhole theory, panspermia theory, things like that)

She is the class clown. She keeps asking the most outrageously stupid questions to the teachers and manages to make the entire class laugh. (except for Sebek, lmao)

Lily never met Malleus but she would probably call him her broski.

If anyone is curious, the Victoria Water Lily myth tells the story of a woman who drowned after leaning towards a river to touch the reflection of the Moon, since she was in love with the Moon. The Moon (or Goddess of the Moon) was known for choosing women and turning them into stars, but to honor that woman who drowned, the Moon turned her into a Victoria Regia (water lily), which is known as the "Star of the waters".

[phoenix-eclipses]

Casting Love Intermission

Soulmates weren't an unheard of topic in your youth. From several storybooks in your early education revolving around the romance of soulmates and even adults around you speaking about their soulmates, it was hard to ignore their existence.

You had assumed you didn't have one. You didn't have that string, always depicted as red, that would lead you to your soulmate. You didn't have any lettering on your body, despite checking several times.

The disappointment you had over your lack of a soulmate wasn't unknown by those who lived with you. Babysitters coming and going, trying to comfort you, convince you that perhaps some sort of sign would appear later.

And it did. Only in a form you didn't realize that made you different. Sitting in art class, your teacher insisting on the severe differences between some colors you were looking at. That was when you were brought to a specialist who informed your father about your color blindness.

When your babysitter at the time was informed of this, she immediately took to explaining to you a type of soulmate bond was colorblindness until you met.

That was the last day you had seen her, your father firing her later that day.

Her replacement refused to read stories about soulmates. She didn't want to speak of soulmates at all, shutting it down anytime you brought them up. Instead, she'd sit down next to you, a pitying look on her face and say.

"I know it is hard to not see the world like those around you, but if you stay obsessed with soulmates as you are now, you will also not understand the world."

So you stopped. For two years, you'd zone out as your professors read books about soulmates, no longer listening to every single word. It was only after that two years something changed. You were visting your aunt in Tokyo.

She walked beside you, guiding you to a park that she told you that her and your mother used to frequent in their youth. When you arrived, she allowed you to go play at the playground as she sat and watched on a bench.

Throughout your stay at her place, she brought you to the park each day. Somedays you'd meet some of the kids who live in the neighborhood nearby, getting to play with them as well.

It was on the last day that one of the neighborhood kids who you hadn't seen before appeared. You immediately ran over, excited to make a new friend. You waved at him, slowing down as you stopped right in front of him.

"Hello-"

You froze in your introduction as you looked at him. His golden eyes stared at you in shock as you did the same. You watched as the boy in front of you and the world around him brightened up, colors you had never known existed appearing.

"Woah..." the boy muttered in amazement. You let out a laugh, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

"C'mon! Let's go play!"

He stumbles a bit in your hold but follows after you, the both of you glancing around at the colors. The two of you play until it turns dark, your aunt telling you it was time for you to go home. You wave excitedly at the boy, promising that next time you visited your aunt you'd come to play with him again.

It's over dinner that you inform your aunt that you think the boy is your soulmate. She drops her chopsticks and stares at you in shock for a few minutes.

"Do not tell your father."

That was all she said before continuing to eat. You frown, asking her why you couldn't tell him but she just shook her head and repeated herself.

Despite her lack of explanation, you find yourself listening. When your father picks you up, you don't mention the boy, you only speak of the other kids you had become friends with. You don't tell him about the colors that you could now see surrounding the two of you.

But you do tell your babysitter. After a week of not telling anyone, you can't hold back your excitement and as she attempts to deny to read you a book about soulmates, you find yourself blurting out the fact that you did have one.

"I met him! In Tokyo! You can even ask Auntie!"

Your babysitter frowns. Pulling out a book from the high shelves in your room, not a book about soulmates. And she reads it to you, not speaking to you about your soulmate.

You assume that's just how she would treat it, even with the knowledge of you having one, she wouldn't speak of them.

But she does speak of them. She shared it with your father. The next day he informed you that you would no longer be going to Tokyo to visit your aunt. You could still see her, but she would be coming over to Miyagi.

"I don't want you returning to speak to that boy."

You cast a look at your babysitter who refuses to meet your eye. It stays silent in the room, your father's words being treated like the law. You never went back to Tokyo to visit your aunt, though she made sure to frequently come over to visit you. She apologizes to you, promise she'd find a way to bring you to find your soulmate.

It only takes another two years for your father to decide to limit your meetings. Small family meals with him present, able to hear all of your conversation. And soon, not even those happen.

It's not until you graduate from Aoba Johsai and inform your father that you were going to attend Tokyo University, with or without his help, that you are able to return to Tokyo.

Back to the park, no longer aware of the name of your soulmate. All you remember is that golden color that was the first color you could ever see. But even then, in a world full of color and so many people, there was no way to ever find him again.

After all, there was no guarantee he'd even remain in Tokyo. Even if he did, who's to say he hadn't already had his heart casted in the direction of another after you had failed to fulfill your promise to see him again?

0.17 -- Masterlist -- 1.1

Notes

This honestly was finished like the day I posted 0.17 and then some of it didn't properly save so I didn't rewrite it until today lol

Thought it'd be kinda cool to like dive more into their like first meeting and also kind of why Y/N isn't sure about finding their soulmate but also kinda wants to

Ahhh I'm almost done with this semester so yay

Divider credits @cafekitsune and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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[very-gay-poet]

Hi everyone welcome to Tumblr's favorite game: Things That My Dumb Fucking Classmates Said In History Today (learning about the woman's rights movement in the UK)

They [the suffragettes] deserve to be punished and hoped that they would never see their children again.

Laughed at the idea of woman killing themselves. - this was followed by how the police officers in the prisons should have "just let them die" when they went on a hunger strike. my teacher tried to explain to them that the police can't "Just let them die" but they were not, unsurprisingly, listening and just kept repeating "but that's suicide though!"

saying that woman have the same rights as men and tried to name a right that woman have that men don't have. yeah because its not like womans rights have always been actively hung our heads just out of our reach. (honestly I would LOVE to see what their mothers would think of this and what sort of world they live in to think that woman have it the same as men)

after that one of them had suggested (trying to find a right that they don't have that men do) that "woman get SA'd" the other responded that men do too and, after a bit of denying at the possibly, they started laughing.

"[The suffragettes] deserve the death penalty" no notes, just plots of murder after this one. (which they kept repeating)

making fun of the womans rights movement saying that they "should bomb a place and say that they want the voting age lowered" and "start a roadman movement" (the dumb fucks)

saying that "[the suffragettes] should all be locked up" (while its a fair enough comment that, yes, the suffragettes did use lots of violence [though they did start peacefully until they realized that no one took them seriously and they could be easily hidden from the public] I don't think this comment was made in good heart for obvious reasons)

laughing and making jokes about Emmeline Pankhurst (s' tragic, absolutely horrid) death.

"I'm on the side of the law" - said after being called out for multiple, open, sexist comments from the teacher and still continued to argue with her.

kept on saying "but if the roles were reversed!!!" in every fucking scene of woman suffering at the hands of men. every. fucking. scene.

A woman's son was taken from her? couldn't see him for months? Tried to wish him a happy birthday but walked into him being taken away to a different family without her knowledge nor consent? begged her son to not forget her name and look for her when he's grown? had to deal with YEARS of emotional abuse from her husband but stayed because if they split up he would have the child and have all the say on it? Gets so fucking sad and angry that she starts yelling and slapping him (the man whos been emotionally manipulating her for all their marriage and has seemingly no love for her)? deals with pain like a normal fucking human being? "iMaGiNe If ThE rOlEs WeRe ReVerRsEd!!!"

if these boys suddenly disappear don't look at me alright idk what happened 🤷‍♂️

people wonder why we still need feminism when boys in my class were comparing what the suffragettes (/womans right to vote movement in the uk) did to get the right to vote (hunger strikes, arson attacks, destroyed property where the majority of people would notice, leaving behind notes to say that they did it, etc, etc) to Hitler. They were comparing woman who just wanted to be fucking equal to men and get the right to vote for all woman (not just rich white woman like the suffragists did) to HITLER.

[aettuddae]

HONEYCOMB — chapter 4.

꩜ synopsis: the lavier-choi's, a french-korean family from seoul's elite that runs an electric vehicle production business, has been preparing to face a looming economic crisis that could crumble their empire, and it all takes a turn for the worse when, unexpectedly, their patriarch, who headed the company, suddenly passes away. at the news and her mother's desperate call, albany, the eldest daughter, is forced to abandon her life in paris representing france as a professional fencer and return to her homeland to face her mom's old-fashioned whims in order to help the family. amidst all the frenzy, the only positive thing she finds is that, after years, she will be reunited with her siblings and all the friends she grew up with, especially the yu family from across the street.

masterlist | prev | next

the fact that the day was sunny seemed ironic, it was unpleasant. if everyone was crying, so should the sky. the weather contrasted brutally with the black mourning clothes worn by the choi family, who were accompanied by the yu's who had been junmin's siblings and children as well, entering the funeral home to escort the procession to the wake site.

led by the matriarch who was almost as hard to look in the face as it was to look at the sun shining brightly on such a dark day. not a tear, just that exaggerated and clearly feigned grief. everyone grieves in their own way, minjeong would have said, but with eveline lavier you could tell right away that she wanted to get everything over with when it came to mourning her husband and finally getting down to the business of minho taking over as CEO of the family company.

after all, the name was lavier motors, not choi.

the woman hurriedly opened the door to the room where her late partner was lying, only for everyone to be surprised to find that he was not alone there.

beside the coffin stood two tall figures in black clothing who always astonished the newcomers when they appeared in town. albany and her best friend, jang wonyoung, who for the past few years always took the opportunity to return to seoul when choi did, so the clan had already become familiar with her presence. the blonde had her eyes lost, she was looking at the crate in front of her, but she wasn't really. her hands were folded on her back while jang held onto her arm, rubbing it with her palm gently to try to give her some kind of comfort, her chin resting on her shoulder.

albany looked as if she was on pause and her game was only going to continue when that piece of wood suddenly opened and her father sat down to tell her that it was all a misunderstanding, that it was okay, that they would go ride the horses on the weekend and eat makguksu like they used to. but that moment never came.

hearing the sudden clatter that always accompanied her mother everywhere, she raised her head to take a look at the visitors, meeting her siblings and friends. most of them stopped their walk when they saw someone they didn't expect to find in the place, they only knew that the girl would arrive for the funeral, but she hadn't told them much more. others were just surprised to see her, as she would go to seoul only a few times during the year. but wendy had no time for shock, she rushed to her older sister who wrapped her in a hug, welcoming her back to the city and, although she was already crying, she broke down even more. albany held her as long as she needed, only letting her go once her sobs subsided a little. she arranged her sister's hair and wiped her tears away with her thumb.

if there was one thing about growing up with the privileged life they had been given, it was the fact that they grew up so secluded from the rest of the world that at the end of the day, they only had each other. minho and wendy went back and forth between their own places and the family home, but there was always the certainty that they were just a call away. sunwoo lasted six months living on the university campus before he missed having someone else clean his room, and minji still didn't seem to have any plans to go anywhere. the only real loss the choi's had experienced until a few hours ago was when albany moved to france, and having her there at such a difficult time gave them security, it was like having a jigsaw puzzle complete.

minho took care of the younger ones, but he couldn't do everything by himself.

she had a moment with each of her siblings, with giselle who was always by minho, and even with her mother -or her shell -. she gave her condolences to her father's great and lifelong friend and his wife, and then was welcomed into the arms of minjeong, who did her best to lift her spirit a little bit.

albany didn't show any emotion, not because she was not a sensitive person, but rather because she seemed to not be able to fully assimilate the moment. her attitude was lost, but no one could blame her because how are you supposed to act when you lose a loved one?

she turned away from the younger yu, giving her a tender look, as if thanking her without saying words, and turned her body towards jimin, and then she reacted.

as if she was just a child again running to her safe place where she knew she could cry and hide without consequences, the moment her eyes connected with the blackhaired's, her bewildered countenance fell apart leaving room only for the tears that began to wet her cheeks as if it had started to rain inside the funeral home. jimin looked at her sadly and quickly rushed to wrap her body around hers. albany collapsed over the girl as if she was physically feeling the emotional release, her head buried in her neck soaking her with her cry and her hands clinged to her back to keep her from leaving. jimin tangled her fingers in her hair, running them through her locks to try to calm her without much result.

even though there didn't seem to be a need for words, jimin didn't know what to say. she felt horrible thinking that she hadn't called her as soon as she heard the news, but what do you say to someone going through this? she couldn't call albany of all people and say the same textbook dialogues. but then she held her while she vented, and she would hold her as long as necessary because that was what jimin did, she protected her.

the younger girl found herself crying too as she stroked the blonde's back, "don't worry, i'm here." she finally dared to say in her ear, just for her, no one else needed to listen.

"i should have been." the oldest managed to articulate in between her meltdown. "i should have come for his birthday." her breathing was labored, but jimin understood her words. "i haven't seen him since new year's." she remembered. "i should have come more often."

"you were busy." she tried to comfort her. "he knows you wanted to see him." she assured her. "this is no time to regret things you can no longer change."

"i should have come for his birthday." she reiterated, in such a state of despair that she could do nothing but regret.

[e-zlamb12]

Through The Eyes of Shermie Pines

Or my Shermie Pines fic that was cross posted on ao3 :)

1950

***

Shermie was five years old when her little brothers were born

They were twins. Two boys. Identical

Well, except for their fingers

One of the twins had polydactyl, which meant he had an extra sixth finger on each hand. But that didn’t matter, Shermie still loved her little brother. No matter how many fingers he had

”Shermaine,” Her mother called. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust

She never liked her name; it was too fancy and had too many vowels. She liked her liked her nickname better, Shermie. It had a nice ring to it

”Shermaine,” Her mother called again “would you like to hold them?”

Shermie nodded and the two of them were placed in her outstretched arms

”Careful,” Her mother said, adjusting her arms so she could hold them right “you wouldn’t want to drop them would ya?”

Shermie stared at them in awe, they were so tiny

One of the babies was screaming his head off while the other stared up at her with wide brown eyes

As she looked at them, Shermie made a promise

A promise that she would protect them, no matter how hard things got, they would always be safe. She’d make sure of it

”What are their names?” She asked her mother; she didn’t want to have to keep calling them “the twins.” They needed names so she could give them nicknames. Just like hers

”Stanley,” Her mother said, pointing to the screaming baby “and Stanford” She pointed to the one with six fingers

Shermie couldn’t help but giggle. Heh. Two Stans

***

1957

***

Shermie was twelve years old when he realized he might be a boy

He knew it was wrong. People didn’t just change their gender whenever they wanted!

Or… did they? He didn’t know, but he knew his father wouldn’t be impressed

His father, Filbrick Pines, was never impressed by anything or anyone. It’d take a lot to impress him

This wasn’t something that would

He always knew he was less feminine than the other girls in his class. His mother would always recall the times when he was a baby and he kicked and screamed whenever she tried to dress him up in a skirt or dress

He remembers the day clearly too

He remembers his brothers being confused on the matter, being only seven, but still being happy they had a big brother

He remembers telling his parents, his mother saying she always had a hunch and his father simply humming in acknowledgment

He remembers running straight to the bathroom, grabbing scissors, and chopping off his hair till it only reached his ears

He remembered how happy he felt looking in the mirror at his reflection

He wasn’t Shermaine Pines anymore

He was Sherman Pines, now and forever

***

1962

***

Shermie was seventeen years old when his brothers claimed to see The Jersey Devil

He didn’t believe them of course but he still played along with their story, giving over exaggerated reactions to their story

They had a wild imagination those two, having dreams of getting out of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey and sailing the world looking for treasure and babes

He had similar dreams as well, but instead of traveling the world, he wanted to travel through space

Space was always such an interesting concept to him, a vast expanse full of planets, stars and galaxies

It was beautiful, and Shermie planned that when he was eighteen, he was gonna get the hell out of New Jersey and become an astronaut

The Pines brothers had dreams

Dreams of leaving New Jersey and never coming back

Dreams of changing the world and making a name for themselves

Whether these dreams came true or not, we may never know

***

1968

***

Shermie was twenty-three years old when he returned home from Vietnam

So, he didn’t become an astronaut like he planned, but he did serve his country and (hopefully) made his family proud

He couldn’t wait couldn’t wait to see his Ma and Pa again but was mainly excited to see his brothers and newborn son, Henry

He had Henry a couple weeks before he returned to Vietnam and he knew his mother had been working tirelessly to keep the baby healthy, so he’d make sure to thank her

He limped up the front steps and leaned against the door frame. He lost his leg during battle and he had to use a prosthetic. It took some getting used to but he thinks he has the hang of it now

When he opened the door, he didn’t expect to see only one brother standing beside his parents

Only one? Where was Stanley?

“Where’s Stanley?” he asked, eyeing all the individuals in the room

His mother and Stanford averted their eyes away from him, looking nervous

His father however, gruffly replied “He doesn’t live here anymore”

Doesn’t live here anymore? Had Stanley finally decided to move out?

And if so, why before graduation? Why didn’t he take Stanford? Weren’t they supposed to sail the world together?

”What happened?” he asked

There were a million questions running through his head

His father replied once again, this time with more frustration in his voice

“He sabotaged our chances of getting out of this dump. Stanford here,” He placed a hand on Stanfords shoulder

Shermie didn’t miss the way he flinched

His father continued “Was going to go on and make something of himself but that knucklehead Stanley had to go and ruin it. So I kicked him out. He can’t come back until he’s proven himself”

Shermie felt his blood boil

As he got older he started to despise his father and the way he would treat Stanley, constantly belittling him and comparing him to Stanford

It was clear all Filbrick Pines cared about was the money

���Ma, Stanford,” he called calmly “can you leave the room for a second? I need to have a little chat with Pa”

They listened and promptly left the room, Stanfords head laying low on his shoulders

The “chat” ended up being a twenty-minute screaming match between the two of them. Shermie knew his father was an unkind man, but this was too far. Stanley was still only a child

Shermie barely survived his five years out on the battlefield

Stanley wouldn’t last two months

In the end, Shermie packed his and Henry’s bags, kissed his mother on the cheek, and waved Stanford goodbye

He placed Henry in his car seat as he moved to sit in the front. He started up the car and drove out of New Jersey, not looking back

A year later, Stanford would move out and go to college

All the Pines brothers had left New Jersey, even if it wasn’t for the reasons they hoped, never to return

***

1982

***

Shermie was thirty-seven years old when his little brother died in a fatal car accident

Shermie hadn’t seen Stanley in a little over ten years and the next time he hears about him it’s to attend his funeral

He held his mother close as she sobbed into his shoulder, his father not even bothering to show up. Shermie didn’t care, he didn’t want to see his face again anyway

His son wasn’t with him unfortunately, it wasn’t because he was too young to understand the concept of death. No, it was because he wouldn’t understand the loss the people around him are experiencing

He never knew his uncle Stanley, only through stories. So, he was currently being watched over by a babysitter

Shermie scanned the crowd for his other brother Stanford. After looking around for a while he eventually found him standing in front of Stanley’s grave

His heart hurt just looking at the sight

That was his twin brother who he just lost, quite literally losing a piece of himself

Shermie couldn’t help but notice that Stanford looked a little different, but then again, he hadn’t seen Stanford in a long time either

Who knows, maybe at some point he decided to get a mullet

***

1999

***

Shermie was fifty-four years old when he became a grandfather

He was also fifty-four years old when he realized his deceased brother might not be deceased after all

The twins’ birth had definitely been a hectic day

Starting off, his grandson Mason had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, so they made sure to cut the cord off as soon as possible. Luckily, he survived

Secondly, Shermie almost cried when the twins were placed in his arms

They looked so much like his brothers it hurt

What made it worse was that Mason was born with a strange birthmark in the shape of the Big Dipper on his forehead, just like how Stanford had been born with six fingers

Speaking of Stanford, Shermie was starting to suspect he was in fact not Stanford

When Stanford had showed up and gotten to hold the twins he wouldn’t let them go, which Shermie completely understood

Stanford having lost his twin and now there’s a new pair of twins in the family

Shermie could only imagine how he felt

But what confused him the most was Stanford’s hands

While Stanley and Stanford had been identical, it was easy to tell them apart due to their hands. So, when Shermie had gone to retrieve the twins to return them to their mother, he couldn’t help but notice Stanford’s hands— or rather, Stanley’s hands

He had five fingers on each hand and there was no scar indicating that one of his fingers was amputated

Shermie desperately wanted to ask just what exactly was going on, but Stanford (Stanley?) just wouldn’t let the twins go. Shermie had to practically fight him just to get him to hand them over and by the time they were back in their mother’s arms, he had already forgotten that he was going to ask Stanford about his hands

But the real question was, if this was Stanley, then where’s Stanford?

***

2013

***

Shermie was sixty-eight years old when he went with his granddaughters to visit Gravity Falls, Oregon for the summer

They had spent the summer there last year and had apparently loved it so much they begged their father to go this year

He hadn’t been to Gravity Falls up until this point, he knew it was where Stanford lived but he never actually took the time to visit

It was a nice little town surrounded by woods on all sides, a couple of small buildings and houses and whatnot as well. It was apparently so small that everyone in the town knew the twins, including the mayor!

It was a nice quiet walk up to Stanford’s place; the silence being being broken by the occasional greeting from the townsfolk

Eventually, they arrived at Stanford’s place, the “Mystery Shack.” Stanford had (for some unknown reason) transformed his house into a tourist trap sometime after Stanley died, selling fake oddities to unsuspecting tourists. According to his granddaughter Mabel, Stanford had passed down the deed to one of his old employees Soos, so he now ownership of the shack

They hadn’t even made it up the steps before the door swung open and he was face to face with Stanford. Stanford seemed to stiffen under his gaze, “Sherm-“ he was cut off as the twins came barreling towards him with a simultaneous shout of “Grunkle Stan!” and wrapped their arms around his middle

Stanford averted his eyes away from his older brother as he grinned down at the twins, “Hey there you little hooligans!” He ruffled their hair as they both protested

Shermie was about to greet his brother when another voice spoke up from behind Stanford

”Stanley are they here? You said that we would both greet them toge-“ The figure stopped in their tracks

It… was Stanford. The real Stanford. The one that had gone off to college and gotten 12 PhDs. The Stanford with six fingers. The Stanford… he hadn’t seen in a little over forty years

Stanley noticed his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck “Uh, surprise?” He said, giving a half-assed version of jazz hands

Shermie transferred his gaze to him, arms crossed “You two have some explaining to do”

They both winced “Just… why don’t you come inside? We’ll explain everything” Stanford said, leading him inside the shack

The inside was pretty decent, save for the (obviously fake) oddities covering every corner. A six-packalope? How did Stanley come up with this stuff?

Once they were inside the living room they took a seat. Shermie sitting on the couch with Dipper and Mabel on both sides of him while Stanley sat in the recliner with Stanford standing beside him

The air was tense as the three men stared at each other, waiting for someone to speak

Finally, someone did. Dipper cleared her throat awkwardly “Um, me and Mabel are gonna go unpack our stuff in the attic. Is that alright?”

Stanley waved her off “Yeah yeah the sooner you get to it the better” He grumbled, never taking his eyes off Shermie

The two twins nodded as they bolted out of the living room and up the stairs, bags in tow

It was silent once again until Shermie spoke up quietly “If one of you isn’t gonna explain what’s going on I’m getting in my car, going back to California and forgetting this ever happened”

Stanley instantly spoke up “Shermie wait! Just…” He looked towards Stanford “We’ll… we’ll explain everything”

And explain everything they did. Quite literally starting from the beginning in 1962 to Stanley getting kicked out in 1968. Then they eventually got to Stanley’s “business” and Stanford’s time in college

Then… they hit 1982 and that’s where the air got tense. The two of them having a big fight that eventually led to Stanford being trapped out of our dimension for 30 years, Stanley stealing his identity and faking his death

Then they talked the summer of last year and that’s when Shermie finally felt the urge to stop them from talking. His granddaughters had been through so much but were still able to make more friends than they ever did in Piedmont, no wonder they wanted to come back so badly. Still Shermie let them finish

When they were done it was silent. Stanley and Stanford afraid of what their older brother might say in response to all this. Shermie still taking the time to process everything

Stanford opened his mouth to say something but was cut off when Shermie came barreling towards the two of them as he took them in his arms

”I’m so sorry,” Shermie whispered into their shoulders “I promised to protect you and I couldn’t even do that”

Stanley returned the hug and Stanford soon followed “Shit Sherm…” Stanley mumbled quietly “If it’s anyone’s fault it’s ours, don’t blame yourself for it”

“But it is!” Shermie protested “I should’ve been for you guys but I wasn’t! I feel horrible”

”Well, you can be here for us now,” Stanford said “it’s not to late”

Shermie nodded into their shoulders “Yeah.. yeah I like that”

From the stairs, Dipper and Mabel watched with a soft smile as the brothers all embraced, happy to see them together again

The Pines brothers are finally all together again. For now, and forever