#sorry. it's inane posting hours

[dreadgrace-a]

pov the unfairly tall, reticent mercenary stepped in to take a blow meant for you earlier today and then has the gall to take the chore of setting up camp from you

[phoenixkaptain]

Okay. I’ll write an actual analysis.

A Lonely Place of Dying does a few things, storytelling-wise, that are actually incredibly impressive. Like, I figured it out and I was so excited.

First, we don’t see Tim. Not in part 1. All we see is glimpses. His hands as he puts away his camera. His feet as he runs away from Starfire’s apartment. We only see small parts of him, leaving him shrouded in mystery, which leads into part 2, where he’s represented by a shadowy figure on the cover.

The Titans, but especially Starfire, are all worried about the small child looking for Nightwing. This kid knows Nightwing’s name, knows where he lives, nd has a very conspicuous camera. I’d be worried too! So of course, from the Titans perspective, he’s an intimidating opponent that they don’t understand. (Especially since I’m like ninety percent sure Tim isn’t actually the one they’re looking for. Like, I think it was just a happy coincidence that the most suspicious child on the face of the planet happened to show up at the same time as the actual problem.)

We don’t see Tim’s face until just under halfway through part 2. And the first thing they show us are his eyes. He’s searching for Dick, even among all the pandemonium, and it’s only upon him finding Dick that we see his whole face.

Tim’s eyes are important. They’re an important part of his character in this storyline. Because Tim sees things. He sees through Bruce, he sees through Dick, he sees through Alfred even. He’s always looking.

And this is compounded when he explains how he knows what he knows in part 3.

We see child Tim Drake at the circus. Tim says this to Dick “…I kept staring at you…” and this “I remember waiting for you to go on. And then, when you did, I just sat there and watched.”

On the next page, he says, about Dick’s parents’ deaths, “I turned away… I couldn’t watch. Then I heard you crying and I turned back and I saw you holding onto them, and I began crying, too.”

Page 11 has his monologue about seeing Batman for the first time, and how he thought Batman would hurt Dick, but what’s important isn’t the dialogue, it’s the panels. They focus on the realization of Batman being safe, entirely through Tim’s eyes. He’s panicked and scared, then slowly relaxes. We see it all, because Tim sees it all.

And it’s THIS. Tim started the story by finding Batman, but he starts his story by beginning to look for Dick. Us seeing Tim seeing Dick is a direct parallel to us seeing Tim seeing Batman with Dick. Tim’s story starts by him staring at Dick, unable to look away. And when we see him for the first time, he’s looking at him again, still unable to look away.

Throughout the story, Tim is constantly looking at Dick. Yes, this is mostly because he’s talking to Dick, but even at the end of part 2, when Dick is being congratulated by Haly’s Circus members and isn’t paying attention to Tim at all, Tim is still watching him.

Why is there so much emphasis on his eyes? I’m so glad you asked- IT’S VISUAL STORYTELLING BABEYYYY.

Tim’s most important role in A Lonely Place of Dying is as a third party. He cares about Bruce and Dick, and he knows them a lot better than they might think, but he’s still a third party to them. They don’t know him. He’s someone who’s been looking in on their lives for ten years.

He’s. A. Voyeur.

The emphasis being placed on his eyes cements this. Dick, Alfred, and Bruce are all put off by him at first. He knows too much, he doesn’t offer much information on himself until he’s forced to, it’s almost uncomfortable how much of a stalker this thirteen-year-old manages to be. He’s a voyeur, watching their lives, unnoticed by any of them, and that’s a bit unnerving! I don’t blame Dick for being unsettled by him, he’s weird!

And, his eyes as a child watching Dick to his eyes as a preteen finding Dick. They’re connected. A perfectly linear story, just told backwards. It’s really very satisfying.

Now, point two. The question we all have. Is Tim a stalker?

Short answer: yes.

Long answer: yes, but I’ll explain.

Tim begins the story by taking pictures of Batman fighting Ravager. The narration mentions someone calling in a tip to Gordon about Ravager’s location, which is what led Batman to this point, and I’m on the fence over whether or not Tim was the one who called in. On one hand, it would make a lot of sense. Ravager is part of a bigger ploy by Two-Face, and we find out in part 2 that Tim knows Two-Face is behind the trouble. It would also explain how Tim found a spot to set up his camera for a good portion of the fight. And, it isn’t like Tim wouldn’t know Gordon’s phone number. On the other hand, it’s never explicitly stated who called Gordon, so assume what you will.

Part 1 actually shows us a glimpse of Tim’s collection of photographs. It’s huge. Most of them are obviously newspaper clippings, but a few are just pictures (I assume on photo paper because the edges are cleaner than the newspaper photos). Tim says, in part 3 “You know, since I was able to read, I clipped every article on Batman and Robin.” We admittedly don’t know when Tim learned to read, but he’s thirteen and says he gets mostly A’s, so I’m assuming he probably learned in preschool or kindergarten, around the age of 3-5. That’s a lot of newpaper clippings. We only see his more recent and his most stalkery ones, so who knows how many more he has?

There are only a few points in the story where we see that Tim is genuinely emotional about anything. For the most part, he is calm. He smiles a lot. He doesn’t use a lot of exclamation marks. The only times he does use exclamation marks are when he’s monologuing (internally or externally) about how great Dick is or when he’s trying to make a point. The only time we see him get visibly distressed is when Dick ignores him about Batman needing a Robin.

I don’t know how to stress upon you that Tim only cries that one time. Tim almost dies three times in this comic. He went to his second circus and another person died. His idols both berate him and talk down to him (although Dick stops right after they meet with Bruce. I’m going to be honest, I think Dick wants Bruce to take Tim on as Robin because if Dick had to deal with Tim for a whole day, so does Bruce). He has to recount watching Dick’s parents die and the nightmares he got from it.

He went through so much. But, the only time he’s upset is when Dick won’t listen to him about what’s best for Batman.

Anyway, Tim flat out just says a lot of really stalker-y shit, so I’ll just list some more:

We already know about him clipping newspapers since he could read

When he’s asking Kory where Nightwing is, he lets slip to her that he was watching Titans Tower with this line “I know he wasn’t at your meeting today.”

There’s also a few lines from breaking and entering Dick’s apartment “Grayson kept his old apartment. If he left the Titans, he might be here.” “He’s a detective… he must keep notes. Even something scribbled on a shopping list.” “No! The Haly Circus is closing? It can’t be! It can’t! But at least I now know where he is!” (Why is the shopping list thing stalkery Kacie, I’m so glad you asked. Tim knows Dick well enough that he knows Dick writes things down. Bruce certainly doesn’t, and Bruce is also a detective, so it’s a logical leap unless Tim knows Dick is inclined to write things down.)

There’s one part that isn’t stalkery so much as really funny to me. While Tim is looking for Dick at the circus, he realizes that Dick is “a master of disguise” and that “I’ve been looking for Dick Grayson, but he could be anyone.” only to almost immediately after say “No, not the roustabouts. They’re too tall.” First, that means he can’t “be anyone.” Second, he knows Dick’s height just. So well.

Tim realizes who Dick is and I think I’ll just tell you what he said to explain how he figured it out “Th-that jump- - -that’s him! It’s got to be Dick!” What was so special about Dick’s jump? I don’t think there was anything special, I think Tim is just weird.

Dick asks Tim who he is no less than three separate times. Tim refuses to tell him, all three times. At the beginning of part 3, while Dick is introducing Tim to Alfred, Dick says “Alfred, this may be a bit awkward, but I’d like you to meet- - - -what did you say your name was again?” Implying that Tim did tell Dick, but only briefly.

Back in part 2, Tim says this to Dick “Look, I know you’re Nightwing. You used to be Robin. Then Jason Todd became Robin, and when he died, Bruce Wayne went to pieces.” Tim says this before telling Dick his name by the way.

Tim, upon being introduced to Alfred (a cont. of the earlier Dick line) “Tim. Mr. Pennyworth- - gosh I was really hoping we’d meet. I know you’re Batman’s confidant, and I’ve dreamed about the stories you could tell.”

Alfred’s response to this is “I am- - what did you say?” Which is very funny.

Some more stalker lines that come from Tim looking around the manor: “I’ve seen pictures of this place,” “There’s the renoir Mr. Wayne bought last year. I read about that in Art World Today.”, “He’s got an erte? Oh, I love his stuff.”, “Please, can I see the rest of the house?”

There’s this, which a part of was mentioned earlier “I don’t remember the clowns or the animals, or anything else. I just remember waiting for you to go on. And then, when you did, I just sat there and watched.”

Tim says, before explaining anything, “Okay, you won’t take me seriously until I tell you everything. Dick, I don’t want this to hurt you. And I’m really afraid it might.” He then says, “I’m sorry, Dick. I really am. I told you I didn’t want to hurt you by telling you all this.” Tim is right, Dick is hurt. Tim is a stalker, but he’s a conscientious stalker.

There’s this “That image of you doing your somersault- - - -it stayed with me for years. I couldn’t get it out of my mind.” “I knew that somersault. I knew it like I knew my own name.”

This is just the beginning of a sentence, but it still is very stalkery “When you moved to New York to become Nightwing…”

Or how about “…Batman and Robin have meant everything to me. I’ve followed them both… I know them so well. I knew when Dick left to become Nightwing. I knew when Jason came and became Robin… and I knew when Jason died.”

Tim mentions offhandedly that he managed at some point to slip a tracking device on Two-Face. An impressive feat, considering Two-Face was trying to hit him with a crowbar and Tim only came into contact with him twice, either to punch him in the face or push him away from attacking Alfred. I doubt he slipped it on him while punching him, but his ability to stay calm under pressure even while acting panicky, managing to smoothly slide a tracking device onto Two-Face that Two-Face never realizes is there, is very impressive. Or, it’s practiced-

Bruce says “I don’t want a partner. It’s as simple as that.”

Tim responds “After all you’ve been through, I understand.”

So you may be wondering, with all of this overwhelming evidence and the fact that he knows where both Kory and Dick live and the fact that he already knew Alfred Pennyworth was Batman’s confidant and all of the weird, supervillain-esque shit he says, why does anyone like him?

And I’ll tell you why. It’s because he’s so fucking awkward.

Tim says things like “oh thank goodness” or “gosh” or “it’s still been wonderful.” Tim stutters talking to Batman. Tim fanboys over Dick and Bruce constantly. He isn’t even upset to have gotten a mystery wrong, he’s just happy he got to see Dick solve a case.

But also, Tim is right. Batman is acting recklessly, and it’s directly as a result of Jason dying. Tim says he needs Robin, not Nightwing, but I think what he means is more the role that they fill. Robin is little and Bruce can tuck him under his wing and keep him safe. Nightwing is an adult who argues with him and is a good leader in his own right, leading to more arguments. Robin is someone Batman has to take notice of, has to account for when making plans. Nightwing can keep up, and he isn’t as worried about Nightwing because he trusts Nightwing’s ability to stay alive. They fill very different roles, and that’s what Tim means, even if he has trouble saying it.

And he’s completely right. Batman without Robin runs recklessly into a building without scoping it out, tries to save two boys tied with active grenades by himself, walks into a room full of mobsters with guns without having any protection himself. Tim implies that he’s worried Bruce might die, and he’s right to be worried.

But even with Nightwing there, Batman only worries when things go wrong. He doesn’t see Dick as his scrappy little sidekick anymore, he sees him as an adult. And it’s only when Dick’s in trouble that Bruce reverts to treating him like a child.

Robin makes Batman stop and think before they go in. Robin makes Batman patient. Because Bruce cares about Dick and Jason, and he comes to care about Tim too.

Tim wins him over by being clever, but later comics show that they have to build trust in each other. Tim trusts Bruce completely, right off the bat, and that’s overwhelming for Bruce. But Bruce stops being overwhelmed and starts feeling fond.

Because despite everything I said, Tim is a good person. He’s so worried about Bruce that he’s willing to search everywhere to find Dick to try and help him. He’s so worried about Bruce that he spends his vacation week slumming around on his bicycle trying to save Bruce’s life. He dives down a coal chute without a second thought, and he pushes with all his might to unbury Batman and Nightwing. He cares about them, and it’s painfully obvious that he does.

Tim doesn’t want to be Robin. Like, okay, he would love to be Robin, but that’s not why he’s here. He doesn’t want to tell Dick his first name, and it’s only after seeing that Dick isn’t taking him seriously that he spills the beans. He didn’t want to tell Dick, because that would hurt Dick. He says “B-Batman, it’s hard for me to say this to you” because he’s about to tell Bruce off for being reckless and he doesn’t want to. Tim wants to know that Bruce and Dick are safe, and that’s the only thing he wants.

Yes, Tim is definitely a stalker. He literally said himself that he followed them, and even if it was only through newspapers, it still counts as following. Now, maybe he doesn’t fit this dictionary definition of a stalker: “a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention,” but I think he does fit this dictionary definition: “a person who hunts prey stealthily.” Tim is stealthy and quick.

I read an article that said his weakness was unexpected situations, but I would argue that that’s bullshit. Tim is great in unexpected situations. Did he expect Two-Face to start trying to beat him with a crowbar? No, but he managed to avoid being hit and plant a tracker on him. Did he expect Two-Face to crush the Batmobile he’s sitting in with a wrecking ball? No, but he managed to jump out and hide and tried to warn Batman and Nightwing to watch out. Did he expect Bruce to agree to let him train to be Robin? No, but he’s going to do the best he can now that he has the chance.

From the very beginning, we can see that Tim is someone with an answer to just about everything. He knows things, he notices things, and he’s good at reacting. Later comics don’t dispute this, that I know of. Tim is the Robin with multiple contingencies for his contingencies, but he’s also the Robin who is most likely to say “oh shit I did not see that coming.” He’s a surprised sometimes, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s unprepared.

All in all, Tim Drake is a fascinating character study of a rich kid who talks like an elderly woman providing therapy for a man who is at least two, if not three, decades his senior. Tim doesn’t quite understand at any point that monitoring isn’t the same thing as showing affection, which is why he and Bruce get along swimmingly and why Tim is often slated to be the Robin most alike to Batman.

Congratulations, Tim.

Also, I really truly believe that Tim had his first crush on Dick, which is why he couldn’t stop staring at him. And I didn’t mention he said this, because it wasn’t important to the points I was making, but it’s important to this one. Tim says “…I kept staring at you, and your circus costume.” The circus costume being similar to Robin’s is never brought up, only the fact fact that Tim couldn’t stop staring at it. I’m telling you, his first crush was here, it’s so obvious, just look at my corkboar-

[butchshepherd]

Not gonna lie I would've had a nicer time if my brain wasn't obsessed with overthinking and being pessimistic etc

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 9 ~ AVOIDANCE

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: lowkey i'm kinda unhappy w how i wrote reader's emotional turmoil but i gotta post and it's only onwards and upwards from here 💪

chapter warnings: u can kinda tell i used wikihow to describe how to light a camping stove, emotional confrontation, some chunky paragraphs sorry not sorry, not much else ngl they get a sort of breather in this chapter but um not for long!!

chapter word count: 3.7k

You can’t look Minho in the eyes. He stares even more than he did before, and this time his gaze is pointed - he wants to talk to you.

All you want to do is keep your head down and avoid him.

You aren't angry with him, nor do you want to give him the silent treatment, rather it’s that every time you see his face, you cannot help remember the muted, flat look in his eyes, completely at odds with all that is Minho, and it strikes you through with fear and shame. You’re the one with the crazy prophetic dreams, the one who might have knowledge no human should probably be in possession of: you should have been the responsible one.

Lives had been on the line, and the only thing you’d done was argue with someone who wasn’t even in control of himself.

Eventually, you’re going to have to face him head on. You do spend every hour of the day with all eight of them, trudging towards the train tracks - it’s a confrontation bound to happen soon. You’re just happy to leave it for later, though you shouldn’t be.

To make it worse, everyone’s picked up on it: if sleeping next to Jeongin yesterday wasn’t enough of a sign, how you’ve acted all day today has surely given it away. You’re half sure the only reason Chan hasn’t nudged you about it yet is because he thinks you need space. They’re all being extra careful with you, like you’re something fragile. It’s beginning to get on your nerves.

It’s your second day on the run, and you volunteer to take the night watch.

The words have barely left your lips before Minho declares he’ll take it with you, blurting it before anyone else can step in. He shoots you an apologetic look, knowing precisely the corner he’s backed you into, and you sigh and stare at your lap. Like he’s the one who has to be sorry.

You don’t really know what you’re scared of, really. He’s not going to attack you - no, if anything, Minho wants to reconcile with you. You’re just spending too much time listening to the sneaking doubts niggling at the edges of your conscience that say maybe he does think you don’t belong, maybe he does mistrust you.

Frankly, it’s ridiculous that this is what has got your stomach in uncomfortable knots after what you’ve been through, but here you are. There’s no running away from him. It’s probably a good thing. You have far worse things you could be running from.

The nine of you have set up camp in a school gymnasium (abandoned, like everything else). Strange, red tinted moonlight spills through the high windows of the hall; if you squint, you can see the sky through the branches of the trees outside. The silhouettes of the alien ships are just about distinguishable, blotting out the stars in their droves, and you wonder if those same stars they’re blocking from view are part of the galaxies they came from.

Eventually, you tear your eyes away, instead studying the small array of trophies in the glass case to your right. You don’t like thinking about the aliens, because it makes you think about the future. You’d much rather stare at the inane things before you, things that won’t hurt you.

The school is a good place to camp out in, both in terms of security and comfort, with a lot of easy exits, and close to the tracks too - you imagine that some of the kids that went here took the train to school. Tomorrow, you’ll walk along the tracks until you find a good base, but for now you’re on the balcony of the gymnasium, among the clutter of yoga mats and a few bashed up ergos.

You think it’s a little eerie, being in a place that must have been so full of noise and life, now empty like a hollowed out shell, but there are eight warm bodies along with your own to fight off the dark. The seven not on watch are already cuddled up in their blankets, and despite your apprehensions, the sight of them puts a little smile on your face.

Curling up facing the balcony’s railings, you tuck your knees to your chest and wrap your blanket around your shoulders. Squinting up at the ceiling, you’ve just begun to idly count the balls that must have gotten wedged between the gymnasium ceiling and its support struts over the years when Minho moves to sit beside you, close but not touching. To your relief, he says nothing yet.

It’s cold enough that your breath is misting. Silently, you offer him a corner of the blanket to drape over his shoulders, and he takes it, his fingers brushing yours.

“Thanks,” Minho says.

You press your lips together and nod, ignoring the way you can feel his eyes on you, boring rather insistently into the side of your face. Absently, he fidgets with the edge of the blanket, picking at the seams, and you fight the urge to do the same, if just to have something to do with your hands.

Eventually, he nudges you slightly with his elbow. “D’you remember that day we were held up on the supply run, just after you’d recovered?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek and giving in to the temptation of the loose thread coming off your side of the blanket. Picking at it a little too vigorously, you focus on unravelling the stitch, wrapping the string around your fingertip and pulling hard enough to momentarily cut off the circulation.

He sighs, then continues. “I’m glad you were there, you know.”

Finally, you look at him. His eyes are gentler than you thought they’d be. You frown. “Why?”

“Jisung needed you.”

Your hands slow on the blanket. “How do you know about that?”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you realise how stupid they are. No one keeps secrets from each other here - there’s no need for that. Jisung probably told him himself, during one of their whispered night time conversations after you and most of the rest of the boys have drifted off.

“Jisung told me,” Minho replies, just as you’d thought. “And Hyunjin too. I’m normally there for him when it happens - when it gets too much. I was trying to figure out how to approach you to thank you.”

“Oh,” you say. “I - I didn’t know.”

So that’s why he was staring.

“I’m glad you’re with us,” he continues. “And I do trust you. I just, well, I don’t know. I don’t normally do that - confront people like that. I don’t know what got into me.” He laughs mirthlessly. “I certainly don’t slap Chan very often.”

You stiffen a little, another wave of guilt washing over you. Now more than ever, how he was under War’s influence is so starkly at odds with the Minho you’ve come to know, and you’re ashamed you ever thought that those words could have come from him and him only. Your dreams are on the tip of your tongue, a rush of reassurances that you don’t blame him for it, and yet you can’t find the right words to make the whole thing sound plausible.

“Don’t worry,” is all that comes out. “I’m sorry I got so riled up. I was wrong, anyway. If we’d run straight away, we probably could have missed out on getting cornered in that alley.”

He lifts a shoulder. “I think it would have been fine either way. Really, it was the arguing that delayed us, and I’m sorry for that, too. I hope it… I hope it won’t get in between us.”

Oh, Minho.

Despite yourself, your eyes begin to well up - he has reached out to you so easily, so hopefully that it hurts a little how far he has let his walls down for you. His apology has come from the heart, this earnest peace offering too, and you realise that it shows how much you must mean if he is so eager to make amends.

“Me too,” you manage, wiping at your eyes and sniffling.

Gingerly, Minho eases an arm around you, and you turn and squeeze him tight in return, hiding your face in his shoulder so he doesn’t see your tears. Tucking your head under his chin, he holds you just as close, and you know he needs the hug as much as you do; his fingers ball in the fabric of your shirt, and you hear the deep breath he releases, your ear pressed to his chest.

“I’m always so scared,” he confesses, voice barely a whisper in your hair. “Chan works himself to the bone, and I know I’m his backup. He sees the best in people, so I have to see the worst in them to keep us protected.”

You pull back, and he hesitates but lets you. Carefully, you cup his face in your palms, bringing you close enough to see the anguish in his eyes is bright as diamond, sharp edged and cutting. He leans into your touch and his shoulders slump, like he’s letting go of something he’d been hanging onto for too long, as if instantly, with the words off his chest, he’s crumbled to pieces, and you hold the fragments of him in your hands.

You can’t tell him not to be scared. You can’t tell him there’s no need for protection. You can’t tell him that things will be fine, or that no one will get hurt, maybe worse, or that there will never be a situation where Chan is gone and you do need backup.  You won’t lie to him, so you offer a better truth than all those things instead.

“I’m scared too,” you tell him. “We’re all scared, but we’re here to carry the weight too. You don’t have to bear anyone else’s burdens for them, Minho. We share food, we share blankets, we share air. We share everything, even the hard stuff.”

Again, you wrap your arms around each other, finding refuge in the other’s embrace: you can feel something mending between you, something sweet and hopeful, even against the ugliness of the world outside, even against all the odds. Minho is warm against the cold of the night air, pressed to your side like a complementary puzzle piece.

You spend the rest of the watch tucked close together, comforted by the synchronised sound of your breathing.

The next day, you wake the others early, sharing a box of dry cereal for breakfast (you’d kill for just a splash of milk, but that’s about as likely as seeing a cow on the street) before you set off, following the train tracks. Walking along the rail that once would have been live seems wrong, but it’s much easier than fighting through the overgrown plants on either side.

For a while, you walk with Jisung and Changbin, laughing as they tease each other playfully. You look over your shoulder by chance, wanting to see how far you’ve progressed since you set off, and your eyes fall on Hyunjin, hanging back at the rear of the group. He’s lost in thought, staring at the tracks, absent in a way that’s uncharacteristic, and you slow until you fall in step with him. You have no doubt what’s weighing on his mind.

He’d looked so frail, impaled through with War’s broadsword. You wonder if he too had stared into the horseman’s eyes, if he had felt the flames brand his skin as his heart was ripped from his chest. You wonder if the shadows still speak to him, lingering in the darkened corners of his mind like they do yours.

You nudge him. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, too quickly, busying himself with kicking a pebble along in front of him.

“Really?” You challenge.

Something cracks in the calmness of his expression, like a series of ripples in a smooth pond, and he turns to you, distraught, pleading eyes brimming with dread. White knuckled, he grips your hand, and you grip it right back, holding his gaze and waiting.

“I don’t want to be the weak link,” he whispers desperately. “Did it make me the weak link? Was my mind too fragile - is that how it took over?”

Vehemently, you shake your head. “No, Jinnie. You’re not weak, not at all. I don’t know how it got you, but it’s not your fault.”

He pales. “What if I lose control? What if I turn on you?”

“You won’t,” you say firmly. “We won’t let it happen. You’re here now, aren’t you? It let you go. We’d never let War have you.” He swallows, looks like he might object, but you squeeze his hand. “We’re in this together, mind control and crazy fever dreams regardless. You hear me?”

He looks down. “Yeah. I hear you.”

Your gaze softens. “You’re strong, Hwang Hyunjin. Stronger than you know.”

Worrying at his lip, he remains silent, keeping his fingers laced tightly with yours. You let your mind wander, simply staying by his side in case he needs to talk more, and though he says nothing else, you feel his hold on you ease a little, his shoulders relaxing as he begins to take in the greenery around you. He points out a pair of finches, flying circles around each other, and you laugh, watching them as you walk.

Changbin calls everyone to a stop when you get to Lonely St.. Like its name, the train station is lonely, and for good reason - though it isn’t huge, just the platforms, the barriers and a few long abandoned offices, it’s too big to make a camp in. There’s too much empty space, too many places to hide and ambush from with only nine of you. It appears others before you have come to the same conclusion, if the small burn spot and pile of ashes in the centre of the station building tells you anything.

The wide space makes you long for the simplicity of the lab, but there’s nothing like that here: living in someone else’s house seems wrong, and there aren’t many buildings small enough or defendable enough near the railway. You need something more compact.

In the end, you continue a little ways further down the tracks, slogging uphill, and that’s when you come across two empty carriages that look like they’d been isolated for maintenance; Lonely St. is still visible from here, its faded metal roof standing out against the surrounding greenery. Peering in through the scratched window, you note that they’re the type of carriages with the seating along the sides, leaving a wide space in the aisle for standing passengers. They seem pretty new, the fabric of the seats not yet worn down.

Changbin is the one to prise the doors open. It doesn’t take much force, and you file in behind him, fanning out within the carriage and looking around. There isn’t much to look at, but you can sense that everyone knows this is where you’ll settle, and they’re adjusting to the new space, to the idea that this is where you’ll spend your time having your dinners of tinned food and playing card games with Jisung’s weathered deck.

Logistically, you can’t see any problem with the place either: the tracks are on a slight hill, providing a good vantage point. No one will be able to sneak up on you here, and though you’ll be visible, you’ll see them approaching long before they can come in range.

“Here is good,” Seungmin says after a while.

Chan nods. “I agree. Everyone else?”

No one objects, so together, you unpack. You want to remain as mobile as you can, just in case, so you don’t empty out the bags like you did back in the lab, instead lining the full backpacks up against one end of the carriage. It starts to feel more homely when Minho and Felix lay out the blankets - you can't help but smile fondly when your eyes fall on the Hello Kitty blanket, the clash of the baby pink against the orange seats of the carriage nothing short of awful.

Changbin announces that he thinks making a map will make it easier to pinpoint the areas too close to the armies, and that he’s going to look in the station for some supplies. Jeongin offers to go with him. You watch them go as you sit in the doorway of the carriage, your legs dangling off the side, smiling as Changbin heavily slings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. The younger man staggers under his senior’s weight and endures it for a while before playfully shoving him, sending him stumbling.

They’ve walked quite far away now, but you can still hear the hearty sound of their laughter. You hope they never lose that ability of theirs, to laugh in the face of it all, to smile despite the swarm of ships up in the crimson sky.

“Do you think there are others out there?” Jisung asks, sitting down beside you.

You swing your legs. “I don’t know. There must be. We can’t be the only survivors.”

“I guess they can’t all have been…” He makes a vague gesture with his hands. “Mind hijacked.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I don’t know how many were killed during Pestilence, but Seungmin, Minho and I saw one of the armies. If the other is roughly the same size, there’ll definitely be other survivors.”

“I hope there’s a way to free them. The soldiers, I mean.”

You look over at Jisung. His head is tipped back, and he looks up at the sky, eyes raised to the clouds. You can tell he’s deep in his thoughts. Your stomach twists at his words, your head abruptly filled with a terrible vision, one you fear is beginning to be recurring: all eight of them under War’s command, and you, desperately trying to wake them, to call to where they are imprisoned in the recesses of their minds.

“I hope so too,” you reply, and your voice trembles a little.

This time, he looks at you, turning his head and fixing solemn eyes on you. “We’ll be together until the end, if it comes to that.”

When you reach out, searching for something to anchor you, his hand is already waiting.

You sit together until Changbin and Jeongin come back, and at some point Hyunjin joins you, settling on Jisung’s other side and quietly humming a wandering tune under his breath, melodious and soft as the breeze that carries it away.

Changbin and Jeongin are heavy-laden when they finally arrive. The first has a small circular table tucked under his arm, obviously from one of the few mini cafes in the station, and some fold up chairs under the other, while the second has what looks like a camping backpack on his back and several more chairs in his hands. Panting, Jeongin drops them on the floor with a clatter, rolling his eyes when Changbin makes a sound of protest.

“I didn’t know we were fully furnishing,” Minho quips. “Should have brought the centrifuge from the lab, too.”

“Yeah, Binnie, did you even get any of the paper and pens you set out for?” Chan teases.

“They’re in the rucksack we found in the lost property,” Changbin huffs. “Along with the camping stove inside it, but I guess you guys don’t want warm food after all.” He crosses his arms, pouting. “Even though it’s been months.”

Your mouth waters at the sound of that, and you suddenly become aware of the hunger in your stomach, gaping inhumanly wide and heavy the moment your attention is brought to it. You’re plunged into an ocean of fear, flashes of a woman astride a black horse and a scale with a blood stained angel feather stark against the dark, the sound of Changbin’s voice muffled and unintelligible as the icy water fills your ears.

“ - you okay?”

Flinching, your shoulders tense, your hand coming up to hold your head before you stop it halfway and let it fall to your lap. Jeongin is staring at you intently, eyes worried and slightly narrowed, but he hasn’t drawn anyone else’s focus. You force yourself to relax, to smile, even as bile rises in your throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you keep your voice light, airy.

Studiously, you ignore the dubious look he sends, turning your head to tune back into the conversation. Changbin is holding a lighter and a gas canister, and after some debate he hands it to Jisung and points the spot to set up the camping stove, indicating that you help ignite the stove - none of his words register in your head, but you nod and fight back visions of a pretty, frigid face.

The boys disperse, though Minho stays close, opening the fold up chairs and setting them in a circle around where you and Jisung are crouched beside the stove, his feet crunching in the loose pebbles behind you. You push the third horseman right out of your head, instead focusing on the things in front of you. Beneath your feet, the shale makes you a little unsteady, the air is fresh, a breeze blowing in from in front and playing with your hair, and Jisung is fumbling while trying to screw the canister in.

You lean back and sit, the crouch becoming too uncomfortable on your knees. Your gaze lingers on Jisung, admiring the smooth planes of his face and the scrunch between his brows as he focuses. That chases away any lingering shadows.

“Got it,” he says, finally aligning the canister properly and checking it’s secure.

“I’m about to have the best lunch ever,” you declare, picking up the lighter.

Steadily, you hold the lighter in place, its little flame dancing, and use your other hand to turn the knob and switch the gas on. The stove catches the lighter’s fire, and beside you, Jisung whoops triumphantly. You turn your head to congratulate him, and your expression drops, eyes looking straight past his shoulder.

In the distance, just exiting the station and coming towards you, two figures approach.

PLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING/COMMENTING IF U ENJOYED, I'D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS <33

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable @lovemepie67 @needsumcomfypillowstosleep @loumin908 @rxlxvr @iris-iiridescent @brbwritingfanfic @missseoulite @juliettejwnewinesa @fr34k4c1dr41n @velvetmoonlght @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @hyunjinstolemyheart (let me know if you want to be added)

[stormblessed95]

Do you know, all I keep thinking about re these negative anon asks is how all of what Jimin supposedly said was filmed probably April 23, when he was in NYC. Did he seem unhappy to anyone in that video? Did he seem unhappy in 2023 as a whole. No.

So after this interview (no we have it) we got Jimin travelling to NY to meet with JK, (all waxed.. sorry I digress), to go in a date on silver day to a very romantic looking restaurant, to then spend time travelling around CT, including a stay in a very romantic LGBTQ+ friendly cabin, camping under the trees, to them flirting in front of our salads a week or so later, JK naked in bed, as you do. Then we got the back selca of the century from Jimin on JKs birthday (everyone say thank you to Jimin), to Jimin posting a picture of a whale they both drew, and now we know they did that in the back of a boat watching a very romantic sunset. Then we got JK walking in on Jimins production diary live, and Jimins smile that could light up the sky it was that big and bright. Then if that wasn’t all, we got 2017 Jikook cosplayers going to Japan together all cosy in the airports, and then, then, the biggest most loudest thing they have done in my opinion, the buddy enlistment. 

I mean seriously people. We may not know, or ever know, the true nature of the relationship between them but do you know what? We don’t need to know do we. Mainly because it’s non of our business, but also because no matter what, the love and devotion these two have is unparalleled. They have a truly beautiful bond that is unique to them. They know what they mean to one another, we get to peak when they let us, but that’s all. It’s not our right to debate and seek the truth, that’s their right. It’s not up to us to decide what they are, or what the truth is, that’s up to them. It’s called plausible deniability for a reason, they allow us in a bit, but then pull back equally as fast. As is their right. 

I’ve been watching BV3 to pass some time and even in the short clips we see of them in that season, you can see their special bond. They say it themselves in their ending interviews. They click, they are similar. In AYS we are going to see hours of just them, no other members to pan to, or Segway to, just them, together. Do people realise what a privilege that is? I hope so. 

I for one wish people would just stop with speculation and inane asks and either bogg off if you are an anti, or stay and appreciate what they do allow us to see if themselves, especially during AYS, because if that twitter op is anything to go by, we are in for something really special. 

Hey, you know anon. I love you. I adore you. Come be my friend? 💜💜

Thanks for sharing!

[the-kingshound]

Warning inane ramble incoming, it’ll probably be annoying I apologize. (*_ _)人 I spent the last several days reading every post here. I managed to convince myself to start liking some (sorry about that I’m sure it was annoying to get all those notifications) I have this weird thing where I get nervous about liking older posts cuz I mean it’s been a long time and it’s unprompted so that’s weird right? It feels weird like I’m doing something wrong or I’m being annoying, I considered reblogging too but somehow that felt worse? Sorry I am not good with social rules they confuse me both on and offline Idk my brain is wrong and I’m just a nervous socially anxious snail. (＞﹏＜)

Anyways just wanted to gush about how much I love it here and I’m never leaving (´꒳`) ♡ First and foremost Yniol has a special place in my heart they will forever be my favorite bestie (*＾ω＾)人(＾ω＾*), yes I am biased as my partner is grey and though they don’t play IFs they were thrilled to learn about your character! Also your writing is just phenomenal, your fans are fun and creative, your characters give such warm and positive energy I love them so much they’re perfect, the inclusivity is such chefs kiss ( ´ з `) 🤌🏻✨, the angst is delicious, the fluff is so sweet and comforting, the spice is ... very blush-worthy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄). This has been a journey I laughed, I cried, I giggled, and I blushed and I have enjoyed every bit of it from pasta discourse to Moldien cult wars to Arthur bunnies, I’ve had the most wonderful time. Now my mind is gonna be filled with Arthurian stuff for months my maladaptive daydreaming is having the time of its life I have a road trip next week and I’m so looking forward to just staring out a window for 6+hours while my Hound's just alternating daydream adventures with the cast o(≧▽≦)o. Also speaking of your amazingly wonderful, sweet, and supportive cast I have decided my (though I love them all) favorite poly pairings are Arthur/Morien and whole crew polycule I’d sell my soul for those but I 100% understand why you can’t really do that. I don’t think I have the endurance in me to code a single poly no matter how much I wish it so the fact you’re doing any let alone several is just god tier you are awe inspiring.

Alas I have rambled far far to much I wish I could be more eloquent in expressing just how much I enjoyed experiencing all of this but for now this is the best I can do (╥ω╥). Thank you for sharing your wonderful work it’s truly a gift to experience. ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭✧ I wish you wealth, health, and all the best in all your creative endeavors. -🐌

No, please please do not apologize. You made my entire week <3 This ask is straight up going into the folder where i keep my motivation to write and to be just a little proud of my work, thank you so so much for sending it.

For anyone having the same thoughts about liking or reblogging old posts: please do it. When I see the notifications, get very giddy and pleased, and I hope you are enjoying the food. Liking, and especially reblogging things, even more so if you add tags and reactons, not only fills me with glee but it also reminds me of old asks that I want to reblog again for new followers. So yeah, I love it, please feel free to go on a liking/reblogging spree!

You are so relatable for the maladaptive daydreaming (this game was absolutely born out of my own mental movies), I wish I could speed up the writing and editing for the next update so you can read it while you travel but I'm afraid it's a lost cause (I have been working on things, even now, but I am currently rewriting like half of it and while it is way better it takes sooo much time and energy). Knowing my characters and story are in someone's thoughts it the best kind of reward I need. I will never likely monetise this game, so this is the thing I wish to leave people with, and I hope the characters can be comforting and keep you company <3

You have no idea how much I would love to write the full polycule... maybe one day :,) But don't lose hope for the Arthur/Morien poly yet, as I decided to cancel the Gwyar/Morien poly and now I have a potentially free slot. In any case, awww, please know that this ask made me so happy today and will be in my thoughts as tkh is in yours.

Please have a lovely day and a lovely week and also a very lovely trip! Thank you again so so much!!

[trebuchet151]

For the WIP asks, what about ‘Sleeping with the Fishes’? c:

Sleeping with the Fishes is an angst fic from Ortega's POV about grief, post heartbreak incident. Its intended to be the first part of a series of fics, each going over a different message Corey left in Ortegas voicemail. Sort of meant to explore the various ways Corey continues to haunt impact their life through the things theyve left behind.

Since this ones short, essentially done, and im just being picky about editing, ill put the whole thing under the cut. TW for pet death (fish), unhealthy relationships with alcohol, and discussion of major character death (coreys not actually dead but still)

Thank you for the ask!!! Sorry this ones so heavy 😅

WIP Asks

You knew this was coming.

You shouldn't be surprised to come home from work and find the sickly rescue betta fish floating belly up in its tank. He was old– has been old the whole time you've known him. The vet (while trying to be sensitive and not seem amused that you took a betta fish to the vet) said the changes in diet and behavior you’d been seeing were inevitable. That there was nothing they could do.

So why are you curled up on the floor, wasted and sobbing, over a betta fish?

It was Corey's.

One of the few remaining things of his you kept is dead.

Yet another piece of him is gone.

You feel like you've lost him all over again.

It's been one week past two years since Corey brought the fish home. You remember the exact date, remember everything about the stupid little fish because he had called and left a message about it.

Feeling like you deserve it, you poke the wound a little harder, pulling out your phone and opening your voicemail.

The monotonous automated voice tells you the number of messages you have saved. You try to ignore it every time. Remembering the number of things Corey can still say to you bears a note of finality you're not prepared to confront.

You angrily mash the button until it skips to the message you want to hear.

May 12, 2012. 11:47 PM

“Okay, I'm pissed. So you know that one shitty pet store in Burbank? Yeah I was in the area and figured I'd see if they had any tanks on clearance cuz I want to do another aquascape so I went in and fuck was that a bad idea. Hate that shithole. I should burn it down.”

His voice cracks over the words, furious on the little fish's behalf. You wonder if it knew how loved it was. Wonder if he knew how loved he was.

“So I stole a betta fish. He looked so sick and he was the only one left on the shelf. Couldn't just leave him there! Probably wont make it but im not letting him spend his last hours in that stupid fucking cup.”

Ever the hero. Lucky little fish.

Corey had never really named it, convinced it was going to keel over at any given second and trying not to get attached as though he wouldn't have died for it immediately after bringing it home. Instead, he referred to it using an increasingly inane series of gambling puns. A riff on a joke Anathema had made when they'd first found out about it, calling it a "betting" fish and saying getting rescued by Corey was a long shot. It was never the same twice. Card shark, royal flush, ace in the bowl. They were all terrible.

Keeping with the spirit but not up for jokes lately, you'd taken to calling it Lucky.

“Gonna put him in that one planted tank I've got. It's not great but it's better than nothing. At least he'll be warm and comfy when he goes.”

A pang of something like guilt rings through your otherwise hollow-feeling chest at that. You think he was, you'd tried your best. Done better than you had at keeping his houseplants alive at least. Corey's beloved betta and its (now excessively large, Corey had spoiled the hell out of that fish with constant upgrades) planted aquarium are as well taken care of now as they were before their upkeep fell to you.

Making a fish's final moments easier feels like a stupid thing to worry about.

It's little consolation when you know you did nothing– couldn't have done anything to ease Corey's passing. Not only did you lose him, he went out terrified and in pain.

You drown the thought with more alcohol, can't remember what you're drinking, can't see straight enough to read the label.

“Well I'd better shut up, you're definitely sleeping. Thanks for letting me rant into the void about a half dead fish.”

It takes everything in you not to beg the crackling, recorded ghost of Corey not to go. You'd give anything to hear him rant about fish just one more time.

“See you tomorrow, Sparkles.”

You did. You spent most of your day annoyed and driving him all over the place to pick up fishkeeping supplies from stores he'd deemed reputable. You'd even footed part of the bill.

Now, you hate yourself for wasting precious time with him by being irritated. You'd sit through the worst traffic imaginable, buy the entire stock of the most expensive aquarium supply store in LD, just to spend another day together.

'See you tomorrow'

The empty promise makes you feel sick, burns your throat, so you reflexively hit the 'play next message' button on your phone to get it away from you.

You've had a year and three months to memorize every message he's ever left you, listening on repeat in your darkest hours until you can recite them all verbatim.

But who's counting?

[mariacallous]

Would you like to travel in the advance party to Mars, aboard the space rocket of a man who can’t sort a livestream? Ideally you would have to get in line for this species-level honour behind thousands of Earth’s leading shitposters, who not only trust implicitly in X owner Elon Musk, but truly believe that if they grind away for hours a day telling him that on his platform, one day he will see one of those posts. I hope he does, guys!

In the meantime, my favourite recent headline on this interplanetary settlement programme ran “Elon Musk denies his sperm will seed Mars colony”. Sure. It’s just a hunch, but I feel like they’re going to have way more sperm than they need up there. It’s the other bit necessary for human life that you sense will be in shorter supply.

Anyway, from the future of the red mist planet to the future of political discourse: Monday night’s conversation between Musk and Donald Trump on X (audio only, only almost an hour late, and only for massively fewer live listeners than advance estimates suggested). It was so dysfunctional that even Trump’s dentures were trying to escape. Hours after it had taken place, Musk issued an intriguing APB: “Anyone have a <1 hour edit of the highlights of the @realDonaldTrump conversation?” To which the only reply is: sorry … what? That is like NBC putting out a request reading: “does anyone have any highlights of the Olympics?” YOU OWN THE PLATFORM. How can you not have organised some highlights?!

Still, in the absence of his, here are mine. We’ll kick off with Musk portentously informing Trump that “We’re at a fork in the road of the destiny of civilisation”. And ye shall know this fork for it is signposteth with an error screen. In the UK, we have an expression for benchmark incompetence: we say someone couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. But a tech boss being unable to organise a tech event on a tech platform feels like a new industry standard: the brewery’s head of piss-ups being unable to launch a piss-up in his brewery. On Monday night you could watch live footage from any number of bird nesting boxes around the world, but it was impossible to watch any of the would-be president of the United States. That said, I’m afraid both species soiled their floors.

If only there’d been some warning that you could trust X to cock up these live events. Do recall that Musk was previously backing the former Republican nominee candidate Ron DeSantis, and managed to persuade the Florida governor to launch his campaign on X last year. The tech-fail that followed was “a DISASTER!” Not my take, fanfolk, but that of a certain Donald Trump.

Either way, making it audio-only felt less than futuristic. I saw someone say it could have been an email, but it would have worked best as a fax. It wasn’t so much like the tech revolution hadn’t happened, more like the Industrial Revolution hadn’t happened. Hopefully as time wears on, Musk will upgrade his server to a spinning jenny. In the meantime, he would like you to believe that there was some sort of cyber-attack on his ancient looms. He explained to frustrated users that X Spaces had been subject to a “massive DDOS attack”, which strangely didn’t affect any of the rest of X. This is definitely the most self-sabotaging excuse since Katy Perry claimed her recent plastic feminism single was “satire” and “a reset for my idea of feminine divine”. After Monday night, the haters need to understand: Elon’s aural frotting of Trump was satire, and a reset for his idea of masculine divine.

It was certainly a reset for the spectacle of 21st-century power broking. Behold, the billionaire hedge funder Bill Ackman, who recently came out for Trump, and who, on Monday night, could be found replying plaintively to his preferred candidate’s cobwebbed X handle: “Please let Elon know we can’t join”. Posting impotently at a presidential account that Trump has not personally used in three years to bleat that the meeting host isn’t letting him in … I’m sensing that a big part of the reset of the idea of masculine divine is old guys shouting that they can’t make their computers work. Have you tried simply switching the masculine divine off then on again?

Let’s deal only briefly with the eventual contents of Elon and Donald’s fireside chat, as long as we’re clear the fire they were sitting next to was a dumpster, sparks from which had long since set both their pants on fire. “I want to close the department of education,” Trump slurred at one point. According to Trump, Biden was ousted in a “coup”. Hey, at least the Democrats can organise a successful one.

For a genius, finally, Musk’s interview technique is surprisingly like that of a nitwit breakfast host. (Donna Air once asked the Corrs how they met.) He guffawed his way through most of Trump’s ramblings, reserving special admiration for the authoritarians and dictators he’d encountered. Trump mentioned meeting with Kim Jong-un. “That was cool,” gurgled Musk, whose platform is banned in North Korea. “If something happens with this election,” concluded Trump, “we’ll meet the next time in Venezuela, because it’ll be a far safer place to meet than our country.” Fortunately, as is the case with pretty much anywhere ruled by these freedom-loathing strongmen, X is also currently banned in Venezuela. So at least we’d be spared having to glitch our way through another meeting of minds like this.

[blackjackkent]

Letter prompts - any or all!

Minsc to Hector

Lae'zel to Gale

Rion to Karlach

Shadowheart to Isobel and Aylin

Nine Fingers to Jaheira

(Letter fic prompts!)

TY as always for the prompts, friend! <3 Sorry it took a bit to get them done, but I did all of them bc I loved the ideas so much. XD

-----

(Minsc to Hector - a note scribbled on a crumpled piece of parchment with one corner slightly chewed off. Left on Hector's bedside table in the Elfsong, three hours before dawn on the cold, rainy morning before the battle with the Netherbrain.)

My friend! 

Do not fear to find Minsc’s bunk empty when you wake; know that I have gone ahead to clear the path! The sewers that stand between us and our wrinkly foe are well known to Minsc and Boo, and we shall see to it that they are well-scrubbed of evil that might hinder us in our final journey. A fine tale it would make for us to travel towards a battle for the world's fate and be delayed by a passing bandit!

Should we have no further time to speak before all is chaos, Boo wishes you to know you have been a fine companion, a hero to rank high among all those he has traveled with. And Minsc would say the same, though Minsc does not juggle words with Boo’s skill. 

Boo and I have traveled across many years in an instant, and much has changed. We did not think to find a company with which we could feel heroes again, not least after Minsc was made a puppet of the Absolute’s worm.  With Jaheira, with you, Minsc has remembered what it is to be alive, to fight for goodness, and this city's every shadow trembles to know it. 

Though evil brings the brain, Hector and his friends shall bring the brawn! And Minsc is proud to be among them!

(signed with the letter M and a very small pawprint in ink)

-----

(Lae'zel to Gale - a note carved in the spiraling gith script into a large flat rock, lacking the fine materials of true githyanki slate, written in camp deep in the Underdark.)

When you can read this, you may consider yourself a true scholar worthy of the secrets of githyanki magic. Until then, cease your inane questioning of matters far beyond your appreciation; my time is better spent in recuperation than in the education of overambitious istik.

A note is attached to the rock, written in Common in careful, precise handwriting: Ever so sorry to disappoint you, my dear sa’varsh, but my inane questioning shall continue unabated. I do, however, thank you for the opportunity to reacquaint myself with Comprehend Languages! I so rarely get a chance to turn that one out for a bit of exercise.

Below these words on the note is scribbled a considerably less meticulous tir’su spiral scrawled in ink: That is *not* what I meant, and you know it, kainyank.

-----

(Rion to Karlach - a note sent by standard post to the Elfsong, several days after the party's visit to Elerrathin's Home.)

Karlach,

You're kidding me - you're Pluck Cliffgate's kid? I carried messages for him now and again; he talked about you plenty, and I did see you once, maybe seven years old, darting all over the Wide like a little hurricane. Small world, I guess. Odd to think that I’m more or less the same and you’ve shot up to be taller than I am. Elf blood’s a funny thing.

I know you’re hoping for exciting stories about growing up with the High Harper but the truth is I don’t have much to offer. She wasn’t any kind of “heroic adventurer” to me - she was just Mother, and she never much liked to talk about the past, not even about my father. I heard more about her from bards in taverns than I ever heard from her own mouth - and some of it I wish I could scrub back out of my brain. 

You ever hear a bawdy called “The Harper’s Head”? Yeah, now imagine that was your mum they were singing about. Awful.

She was good to us, though, in her own way. I know you saw me bite her head off and her bite mine right back; that’s just how we’ve always been. But she saw to it I grew up strong, that I knew how to fight, and how to keep my head down when the time called for it. Harper things, mostly, even though I don’t think she ever wanted me to be one. 

She taught me how to take no shit, too. Her mistake, because now I don’t take hers either. But I think she’d rather that than otherwise.

After a while, the other kids just started drifting in - first for a meal here or there, then a bed, then before you knew it, this was their home. Another one in the pack. It’s strange, really. I always knew deep down - even when I was a kid who didn’t have words for it yet, just knew it was confusing and it hurt - that part of her really wanted to be back on the road, not tied down with us in this mess of a city. But somehow every time one of us moved out, she’d found another to bring in, almost like clockwork.

I think she’s been looking for something, all this time. But I don’t think she knows what it is, any more than I do, or what she’d do with it if she found it. 

Not an exciting story, like all the tales you’ve heard. But it’s truth; I can tell you that much.

It probably won’t surprise you that I haven’t had a message from her since you left. But you can tell her I’m off to the refugee camp in the morning. We’ll hold our end of things, and see they’re taken care of. Take care of that bloody brain, and maybe I’ll find a better story to tell when you’re done.

Rion

-----

(Shadowheart to Aylin (and Isobel by proxy); several conjoined messages by a series of Sending spells, dispatched from somewhere on the edge of Waterdeep) 

> Aylin… your mother's house is beautiful. I never imagined such a place. It's… foolish, perhaps, but I wanted to let you know I've seen it. 

> I still carry the spear with me. Once dark, now light. Like me. Still surprised you didn't crack us both across your knee like Lorroakan. 

> You gave me a second chance. I hadn't earned it; I wanted to kill you. The great difference between Shar and Selune. Cruelty versus mercy. 

> A lot’s happened since then. I found my parents. Shar's last joke at my expense. You were right about everything. That I had to act.

> So I'm free now. Of all of it. One day I will think of a way to repay you both for your kindness. Your wisdom. 

> I don't know what plans call you now, but should you travel near Waterdeep in the next fortnight-- OW! Yes, yes, I'll tell her, calm--

[a slight pause] 

> Please also tell Isobel that Buddy says hello. The morsels she used to slip him in camp have purchased her a permanent owlbear friend. 

-----

(Nine-Fingers to Jaheira - a note left in a dead drop at Danthelon’s in the middle of the night.)

Jaheira. You’ve GOT to call off the Rashemaar. He’s driving us all insane trying to teach us the good path; on all the gods, either I’m going to beat the hells out of him or someone else will. I don’t care what you do - take him on an adventure, lock him in the cellar, turn him into a statue again, hold the hamster for ransom. But something. Fuck’s sake.

He listens to you. Starting to think you’re the only one he does listen to. Like a pup with one master. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so infuriating.

We all want the same thing - this city safe and strong. But he’s got to learn that we don’t all go about it the same way, or sooner or later there’s going to be trouble.

Astele NF

[llycaons]

I’ll make this my last message since I don’t want you having to spend all day on another 15-paragraph essay because that’s just sad. I’d just like to state a point that apparently didn’t come across in my original message—one I didn’t think I *had* to state—which is that fanfiction *isn’t* published fiction. It’s amateur, free content on the internet and shouldn’t be held to the same critical standards and practices as critiquing trad pub fiction. That’s why it’s bad etiquette to, say, put fic on Goodreads, for example. Again, didn’t think I’d have to say that to someone who obviously spends so much time (so, *so* much time) reading fanfic, but here we are!

And just a note: if it’s ableist to say the word “weird” to you specifically and insinuate you, specifically, should go outside—which I *know* you do, I literally used to follow you lmao—then I sincerely apologize. That being said, I *know* you go outside, so I fail to see how that’s a broader shot at the housebound when… you are not. And I know that. And it’s shitty that you’d turn around and banter with your mutual who’s calling me a cunt. That’s fair game somehow, but “weird” is too far? Ok lol. Guess your pearl-clutching over what’s problematic only goes one way. Good to know 👍 Will hard block then! Cheers

it's a good thing that this is their last message but since they're hard-blocking it feels like a waste to even answer this one. I don't even have any other arguments since I was so thorough and said everything I wanted and ig they have no actual rebuttals so I'm taking this win. 'don't want me to spend all day writing 15 paragraphs' yeah right, they just don't want their argument to be DEMOLISHED again lmao and I don't think it's sad, I like covering all my bases. man I smoked that one. and I didn't spend all day on it, it took like half an hour? I was at work all day man lmao. and now I'm being held responsible for things other ppl have said? I mean I stand with my mutuals, but I literally never said that stuff in the actual reply

like I never said fanfic was just like real books, I just said you need to be held responsible for what media you create? did anon even READ my carefully crafted responses? friends. I am bereft. they're asking like this was an obvious oversight on my part but it's just inane to act like not being published equates to freedom from all criticism, which is what I SAID. it's not formal criticism, it's just what I think. you remember thinking? I can't turn it off! and since when was my SINGLE page a goodreads account?

as soon as they pull out the term 'pearl-clutching'...man how did this cunt used to follow me. that's right. I didn't even call then a cunt earlier when kiera did (WHAT bantering??? I posted my response AFTER I got this message) but now I WILL. you gotta be careful about who you tell to go outside, anon. and calling ppl a cunt isn't ableist lmao and I think it's perfectly reasonable in this situation. also if they used to follow me wouldn't they know my views already? what did they think would happen??? and since WHEN was saying cunt problematic???

and furthermore I appreciate the apology bc the comment about my tagging WAS out of line but irrelevant. my bigger complaint was more that 'weird' was a really vague criticism of my behavior. like nothing in ANY of those messages was compelling arguments that I should feel bad about what I was doing they just kept leaning on the morality of the words 'weird' and 'strange'. also just because you used to follow doesn't me you know me as a person?? ugh I just have to call them a presumptuous cunt again I'm afraid.

however this is bar none THE stupidest person I've ever argued on anon with so I will be sorry to see them go. it was so easy to win their weak, unsubstantial, shame-and-normalcy-based but somehow unapologetically amoral arguments...well it looks like I've written another lengthy response but that's fine, I like to chat on my blog to my neighbors and friends and anon shan't shame me out of that one either. how are we all this morning.

[mattsundaes]

Dee my beloved!! I missed you so very much these past couple of weeks! I have post notifications for you turned on so every time I got a lil notification from you I would be like c: when I saw your url and then :c bc I was usually too distracted/busy to come on here esp bc I need a laptop for the level of word vomit I usually conjure up for your precious thoughts and words.

I hope you're feeling better, so sorry to hear you were sick. I spent 20 hours making over 2 gallons of noodle soup and all its accoutrement for my bf's surprise bday party so I'm virtually sharing it with you. It's a bun rieu with plenty of Dungeness crab topped with lots of fresh veggie and herbs and homemade crab meatballs and herby fish paste and lil porky meatballs.

Did you do anything fun over labor day/are you prepping for fall in any way? I'm switching out my candlessss even though it is still a hellscape where I am and will feel like living on the surface of the sun until November.

I missed your AMA so can I ask now? What's the most embarassing thing that's happened to you in recent memory? Bc I flew home for a wedding and although it was for the son of beloved family friends (the son i also consider a brother figure), some people should not get schwasty in public bc the father of the groom came over loudly proclaim/lament that he wished *i* was becoming his daughter in law instead. At his son's wedding to a very sweet lady I adore. Five separate times. With people all around. I wanted to return 2 the sea. I wanted to be left alone in a corner with the 6 ebooks I had downloaded. I literally hid in a restroom for 75 minutes and risked everybody thinking I had The Shits just so I could get some peace to myself.

Anyways, before I go I am going to leave you with some of the final product of the cake I was telling you about that I was testing different components for. I really wish I could actually share with y'all instead of just telling you and cate about it in chats but until wonkavision is invented I'll pretend sending a pic is the same thing. I settled on double vanilla brown butter cake/pickled cayenne strawberry compote/yuzu and lemon curd liquid cheesecake/graham milk crumb. The layers didn't come out as cleanly as I'd hoped but I might try another one with white and yellow peaches (macerated? Cooked into a jam or Japanese style syrup?) and a Mango curd to squeeze every last bit of summer fruit season out.

If kita-non is around and for some reason bothers to read my inane prattle can i pls share a slice with u too. The couple times I got to skim your thoughts these past few weeks I was spending time offline I wanted to give your brain a big ole squeeze. Just lookin' at the pair of you with hearts in my eyes like look at u guys go torturing us with sweet sweet kita thoughts. We can pretend he supplied the fruits used in the cake ❤

I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE BACK 😭🫶!!!!!

i was still feeling quite cruddy over labour day weekend, but i DID go hunt down the CVS puffer jacket snoopy plushie....a personal accomplishment 😂 (he was hard to find!). also i’m planning to bust out my giant totes of halloween decorations this weekend!!! my fall candles are staring at me adoringly from the closet ready to take over.

I AM SO SORRY FOR YOUR MISFORTUNE????? i cannot believe. i, too, would have called the bathroom my new home to never be perceived again. (has anyone informed sober!dad of his big drunk mouth????)

so this is secondhand embarrassment until i come up with a better story BUT i was on a zoom meeting at work today, and a man was pitching software to my boss & i. said man realized 40 minutes in that the software actually isn’t even available in my geographical region and thus he had completely wasted our time. i watched his soul leave his body through the screen. the most awkward goodbye followed.

also if i magically appear in your pocket at some point like a tiny creature with its hands out begging for food, it’s because every time you describe something you’ve made, i yearn like no tomorrow. that soup sounds divine?? AND THE CAKE!!!!! THE CAKE!!!!!!!! it’s beautiful. it puts other cake to shame. i will dream of this cake. it will haunt me.

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

The point of the divorce argument is that it more often than not ruins the man's life regardless of why the divorce is happening, as women are usually seen more favorably in court.

Of course, while this is an interesting argument, it's relevant to point out that the original post displays mysandry to begin with. Something something all men are aggressive and violent something something men evil. Unless the post means to say that misogynistic men will kill women (which, no, most of them are sorry losers stuck in their parent's basements lamenting the total lack of chicky nuggies in the last half an hour) and that women practicing mysandry aren't anywhere near as bad as those men - which is still just mysandry pretending to be solidarity between women. You all are the same - one person of the opposite gender gave you some kind of trauma and now you feel entitled to hate everyone of that gender. Fuck, sometimes it isn't even trauma. I've met countless men and women who just hate the other gender because of stereotypes and other bullshit. Misogyny, misandry, neither is inherently better or worse than the other, dumbass. They're both equally deranged and your anecdotal evidence / hearsay about how either gender goes about performing their gender-based discrimination is irrelevant at best; more likely, completely inane.

[flockofdoves]

sorry posting so much and out of order bc i make myself sit with screenshots and pages for like a few hours to a day or so to not just totally spam with inane posts and limit myself to just what i end up really wanting to post but. i read too many chapters that i have a lot i like in so now this is backfiring and im spamming anyway lol

[oldsalempost-blog]

The Old Salem Post

Our  Local Tamassee-Salem SC Area News each Monday except holidays                                          Contact: theoldsalempost@gmail.com                              Distributed to local businesses, town hall, library.                            Volume 7 Issue 10                            Week of February 12, 2024                https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/oldsalempost-blog                                                         Lynne Martin Publishing

EDITOR:  Newcomers voice their concerns to me about the free rein of development in our beautiful county.  Ripping and scarring the earth to place multiple cookie-cutter houses in the name of progress is inane that many buy in as truth.  Truth is when destruction of our resources and way of life is damaged and extinct, we as homesteaders, farmers, and families will be left breathing the dust that developers leave in their wake.  People have been leaving polluted cities for years. The answer is not to build more homes nor industry.  The answer starts with each one of us who cares.  “The Lorax” by Dr. Seuss written in 1971 is not a fable nor a children’s tale.  It is a book that tells truth.  And no one is listening.  LRMartin

TOWN of SALEM:  * Visit the Downtown Market every Sat, Winter hours 9am-1pm. *   The Town Hall will be closed Presidents’ Day, Feb. 19.  We have been gifted seed funds to repave Barksdale subdivision.  Town Council meeting Feb. 20 at 5pm.  Republican primary election polls on Feb. 24, 7am-7pm at the community building.    

SALEM LIBRARY:  Hours Monday 10am-6pm. Tues-Friday 9am-5pm. Closed 12-1 each day for lunch.                         Struggling with your technical device?  Each Tuesday between 2-3 PM, bring your Kindle, iPad, smartphone, laptop, or other device and we will assist you to the best of our abilities.  Availability is on a first-come, first-served basis.  (Information from the oconeelibrary.org website).

Jottings from Miz Jeannie  by Jeannie Barnwell       The title of this "Jottings" is also the thesis (main idea).                                                                                  Aging is Compulsory, Gaining Common Sense is Optional   Last week I registered at a Greenville hospital, a candidate for throat surgery. The population of the waiting room were the most down-trodden, sorry  looking humans that I had ever observed. They slumped over as they waited to be called to go under the surgeon's scalpel.   "This is my opportunity to   perk up this group of pajama clad losers," Says I to Me.   I banged at the registration window. "I need service here!  I have driven ALL THE WAY FROM TAMASSEE, and I am eager for my SEX CHANGE OPERATION to commence!"   The patients all leaned in and were no longer a bunch of lethargic losers.  The receptionist ushered me to the Gender Reassignment Ward. "Hey, Just a darn minute!  I was only kidding. I was trying to get a rise out of the other patients.  Actually, I am extremely delighted with the female body parts assigned by my Maker!"   "Calm down WOSTER.  We understand your anxiety."   "Why are you calling me WOSTER?  My name is Jeannie BARNWELL. I live in Tamassee.  You may have heard of me.  I am well known for stopping 18 wheelers on Highway ELEVEN to rescue box turtles."   " WOSTER” is an unoffensive appellation for gender-complicated  patients.  The WO  is for  woman,  and the STER is for mister.  Suddenly, the staff from the Ear. Nose & Throat Dept came to escort me for my  panendoscopy (removing a polyp.)  I left my polyp in Greenville, BUT gained a new-found respect for not cutting up and acting the fool in a HOSPITAL.     Miz Jeannie loves All of Y'All!!!

ASHTON RECALLS:  *  I came across a Salem Graded School honor roll in a 1914 Keowee Courier. I thought perhaps some of today's residents might recognize some names.*  by Ashton Hester                                                                 

1914 SALEM SCHOOL HONOR ROLL - (The following story was in the February 4, 1914 Keowee Courier). . .Following is the honor roll of the Salem Graded School for the month beginning December 11, 1913, and closing January 16, 1914. . .First Grade--Columbus Rochester 97, Loyd Meroney 93, Donald Moss 93, Mattie Allen 92, Oscar Grant 92, Homer Moss 91, Janie Allen 91, Clara Nicholson 91, James Sloan 91, Mary Littleton 90. . .Second Grade--Newton Smith 98, Kerby Hunter 97, Elbert Haggerty 96, Ernest Rochester 95, Edith Pike 94, Waddie Anderson 91, Lester Abercrombie 91, Ollie Nicholson 90. . .Third Grade--Maggie Smith 100, Dewey Hunter 98, Mattie Grant 98, Pearl Pike 98, Lillian Grant 98, Jessie Mae Ward 97, John Moss 94, Ila Nicholson 93, Ola Hunter 92, Willie Grant 92, Donald Meroney 90. . .Fourth Grade--None. . .Fifth Grade--Hettie Green 94, Leora Smith 93, Aline Whitmire 91. . .The teachers are Mary E. Cobb, first and second grades, and Jessie Mae Martin, third, fourth and fifth grades.

JOCASSEE VALLEY BREWING COMPANY,(JVBC) & COFFEE SHOP* 13412 N Hwy 11 Open Wed–Sat 9am-9pm and Sunday 2pm-7pm. Events this week:  Wed:  Bring your own Vinyl, Valentine, & food and join us for a Vinyl Night of Love Songs. Thurs: TRAIL TALK at 6:00pm  Bring your own food.   Fri: Food: MAC ATTACK  Music: ERIC CONGDON at 6:30pm   Sat–Food:  LOBSTER DOGS Music: JUSTYN FOX at  6:30pm  *Featuring Pisgah Coffee Roasters and fresh brewed delicious coffee made to order.  More information call 864-873-0048

2024 UPCOMING EVENTS   

House of Raeford Farms Chicken Sale: You are encouraged to order before items sell out. But you must preorder online before Feb 29th  ( Items could sell out before the cut off date). Pick up your fresh chicken on Saturday, March 2nd between 9am and 12pm.  Type in House of Raeford Farms, Greenville, SC and scroll down to the preorder section. Choose Salem Location. Place your order and pay online.  Do not forget to pick up your order!! 

March 2nd, 2pm-5pm Second Annual Alumni Gathering 2pm-5pm  Call your classmates to meet up!                                                                                                  *March 23rd, 7pm  Oconee Mountain Opry $10          * Change from the original published date*.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

The Eagles Nest Treasure Store is open every Saturday morning 9am-12pm.  We are accepting donations during that time or call 864-557-2462.  Information on sponsorships, events, volunteering, donations, or rentals call 864-280-1258.      

                                                            CHURCH NEWS                                                                                                                                                            Bethel Presbyterian Church (PCUSA), 580 Bethel Church Rd Walhalla, 29691, worship at 10:30 a.m.                 Feb. 18 Message by George Harper, Feb. 25 Message by Mel Davis.

Like us and listen to the service on Facebook: Bethelpresbyterianchurchwalhalla   

Boones Creek Baptist Church, 264 Boones Creek Road, Salem invites you to join us for regular worship service on Sunday morning with Sunday School at 10am and followed by worship at 11am.                                                         Salem Methodist Church: 520 Church Street, Salem.  9am for breakfast, 9:30am for Sunday School, and 10:30am for Worship.  You may tune in to our live service on Facebook or view it later on our website.        

FREE TREES :  Tree Giveaway at Shaver Complex in Seneca 2/23 from 12-2. Two free trees per household. Reserve online at www.treesupstate.org/freetrees.   There will be another tree giveaway  at the World of Energy on 3/23 from 9-11.

11th Annual BELLFEST 2024:   FRIENDS OF LAKE JOCASSEE will host BellFest 2024 at Devils Fork State Park on Saturday, March 16 from 10am-3pm.  Celebrate our rare Oconee Bell, Shortia galacifolia! 

SC VENUE CRISIS:  This is a real issue that will affect every small and large business due to increased insurance premiums ( 24%) to all venues who sell alcohol.  Musicians, food trucks, and people on vacation will have fewer venues and restaurants to choose when businesses will have to close. There will be a rally Feb 20th at the State Capitol in Columbia to support legislation  to help the venue crisis and  hold individuals accountable for their own personal behavior.                      

                                                                                                                              Quote this week by someone you know:  If money would save the world  I would worry more about money.  But I think only prayer will save this world. Keep praying! God hears! LRM  

[catch57]

he didn’t need to say that

[seacollectsrivers]

i just found out that the national ID cards we’ve been promised for about 20 years (it feels like) are available now, but they cost 570kr (~$62, €54). for some reason i expected them to be free, or near it? i don’t have 570kr right now, and for the foreseeable future i won’t after paying rent and buying food. very cool.