#starting with the followers list then clearing out all the old posts because it's all out of date

[wishchip106]

What are so good fanfic recs you have???

here’s a big list of fics i have read and recommend

(if i included all of them this post would be a lot bigger 😭)

The Bird’s Opening by druswriting (M)

Erik knew one thing about the story for sure; even if the Capitol created him, he was no one’s property.

Tessellation by nekosmuse (E)

He had been following Xavier's career for years. He had read and reread and reread again everything the man had written. He had tried, on more occasions than he could count, to recruit Xavier into the Brotherhood, but each request for a meeting had been denied. Aside from his work, no one knew anything about Xavier. Not what he looked like, not the full extent of his power--though from what little they did know, he was by far the most powerful telepath in existence--and not what his intentions were.

The man was a recluse. As far as Magneto knew, Xavier had never once stepped foot outside his impenetrable Westchester manor. And now he was scheduled as the keynote speaker for the largest pro-mutant conference in the world.

Hollow Minds and Dead Souls by helens78 (E)

When Charles and Erik take a portable version of Cerebro out to New Mexico as part of their mutant recruiting trip, they aren't expecting to find out the town's falling victim to an epidemic. But things are far worse than they seem, because this is no ordinary virus. Will Charles and Erik find their way home in time to help save the world... from zombies?

Repeat Offenses by populuxe (M)

“Prickly bits aside—hell, for the two of them, prickly bits included—it almost felt like a date. Which is stupid on multiple fronts. Grudgingly buying your ex a meal after he grudgingly bails you out of jail is obviously not a date.”

Five times Charles bailed Erik out of jail—and one time he didn’t.

Replay by SlightWeasel (M)

After Magneto of an X2-ish future succeeds in the unthinkable, Charles sends his consciousness back to 1962 to guide Erik away from the path that will lead to the genocide of the human race forty years hence.

Charles knows that Erik has always loved him, and intends to use this knowledge + sex to seduce Erik away from his ideals in his youth.

There's no way this well-thought-out, sensible, debugged and 100% bulletproof plan can possibly go wrong.

Special Topics in Mutant Studies by populuxe (T)

The trouble with Charles Xavier isn’t just that he teaches genetics and holds terrible views about mutant rights—it’s also becoming increasingly clear that everyone but Erik seems to love him.

Thou shalt Not Eat Stones by valancysnaith

Two months after Washington, Raven found Erik in a skeevy motel off the Florida interstate.

“They have Charles, Erik,” she said.

The bedframe shrieked. In the bathroom, the showerhead snapped in half and clattered into the tub.

Lucky, Lucky you (i am fortunes fool) by @stinkrat-aleks (T)

Charles buys a houseplant to prove to his therapist that he can take care of something. Single father Erik sells them at the local farmer’s market every Saturday.

Paper Monsters by clocks (E)

Charles meets Erik Lehnsherr, his favorite novelist of all time at a coffee shop, but doesn't know it's him, and Erik just criticizes his own writing in front of his biggest fan.

Hear Me Out by @star-lights-up (T)

Nineteen-year-old Charles Xavier and his friends have been posting their group hijinks on TikTok for two years – though when it started, they never expected to go viral, or to end up making a steady living as content creators. It’s something that comes with a lot of surprises, like when Charles puts a picture of his celebrity crush, the mutants rights activist Erik Lehnsherr on a hear me out cake… and he responds.

in the end, it all comes down to you. (you want it all; you’re all i want) by @mapofyourstars (M)

Steve reaches out to Charles, asking for a partnership between the Avengers and mutants. Given the recent decade of peace between mutants and non-mutants thanks to Erik and the Brotherhood, Charles isn’t quick to accept Steve’s offer. Charles takes Steve’s concerns to Erik, and after involving others pivotal to mutants' safety, Charles and Erik agree to help the Avengers. Throughout this journey, however, Charles and Erik will be forced to make rash decisions that will change their lives' course; acknowledge their past and present, coming to terms with the pain suffered at the hands of the other; and lead others into a galactic battle to save their loved ones and each other.

Incy Wincy Spider by Tawabids (M)

Erik Lehnsherr is a renowned homicide detective, with his husband Charles at home and his partner on the job, Moira MacTaggert. When a twisted serial killer starts targeting mutants, Erik and Moira are the perfect team for the job, especially since Erik himself is the mutant poster-boy of an NYPD trying to improve their image.

But what they don't yet know is that the serial killer is an old soul out of Erik's past, and his next move is to pull Charles into his web.

Rumor Has It by blueink3 (M)

"Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Favorite Mistake by endingthemes (M)

Charles Xavier doesn’t think anything of it when he sneaks out without even saying goodbye to his latest one-night stand. What he doesn’t expect is to walk into his new position in the Xavier Industries marketing department and find that his latest hook-up is now his new boss.

An Ideal Grace by afrocurl, nekosmuse (M)

Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google.

Boden’s mate by kaydeefalls (T)

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

The Plus-One by populuxe (T)

When Erik grudgingly agrees to play Raven's boyfriend at her terrible family's holiday party, he'd thought the biggest challenge would be staying sober enough to make it convincing. But then he meets Raven's extremely hot—and extremely infuriating—stepbrother, and everything starts to get complicated.

Punnett Squares and Metal Hearts by roseghoul (w.i.p but you should still read it) (M)

Charles Xavier taught biology at Westchester High School and has for the past seven years. If you were to ask his sister, Raven, then she’d say it was a waste of his Ph.D., but he was inclined to disagree. Founder of the Students With Disabilities Club, he’s created a bit of a name for himself at the school, nurturing an environment that encourages learning and acceptance.

Erik Lehnsherr has thirty-six years under his belt, yet not a single one has been spent teaching, despite his Industrial Arts degree. Yet he accepted a teaching position, in the United States, of all places. Desperation for a new life would lead many to do rather rash things. After many months and piles of documents and certifications, he’s now a shop teacher at Westchester High School, and his first year is just around the corner.

It’s a week before the first day of school when Erik meets Charles, and he’s put off by the optimistic man, yet curious to learn more about him. Charles, ever the kind soul, is eager to bring a new teacher under his wing, but his reasons are far from selfless, enraptured by the handsome, mysterious man with an even more mysterious history.

Fallen from the Stars by madmalina (M)

Erik’s only purpose in life is to find and kill the man who had his parents executed—Sebastian Shaw, Captain of the Emperor’s fleet. When Erik gets assigned to a job under Shaw’s command—on the spaceship supposed to take the Crown Prince across the galaxy—he’s sure he’s closer to fulfilling his destiny than he has ever been before.

Charles is apprehensively awaiting the day of his twenty-fifth birthday, when he’ll be crowned Emperor, because not only does he have high doubts about his own suitability for the job, he fears the crushing responsibilities it will bring, and ultimately wants nothing more than to live a quiet and peaceful life.

However, the trip across the planets of Charles’ future Empire turns out differently than they both expected, shedding light on intrigues reaching back decades into the past, and forcing both men to put their lives into each other’s hands, even though their differences are seemingly infinite.

[frame-of-mind-au]

If you still give a shit about this AU and you're 16 or over interact with this post or I'm purging you from the following list

[aces-and-angels]

seeing the influx of gfm campaigns on your dash may be overwhelming- the purpose of this post is to help others navigate through the many gfm links that are circulating here on this site- esp. those that find their way directly to you via your inbox. this advice is specific to tumblr- i cannot speak on other platforms (instagram, twitter, etc.) though some things i say may be applicable

disclaimer: i do not vet/verify any campaigns myself. i simply want people who are willing to engage with these types of posts to do so in a safe manner

read more below:

---

what to do if you get a message from an account claiming to be 🇵🇸 in your inbox:

-> step 1: do not immediately dismiss it as spam

to quote one of nabulsi's posts:

"... you cannot generalise with Gazans if their tumblr blog is only a few days or a few hours old.

Gazans on tumblr are making accounts for the express purpose of spreading their fundraisers because it is spreading amongst Gazans that tumblr is a safe place to do so.

They could often be making multiple blogs and even remaking after staff flags them as spam. But don't blanket assume that Gazans are scammers if they're on a new tumblr blog with no pfp or content.

I agree that until a fundraiser is vetted you shouldn't reblog it in case it is someone dishonest taking advantage of the circumstances in Gaza. But you cannot do the opposite and immediately assume they're a scammer. I'm seeing people harass Gazans sometimes who genuinely are people who just don't know how to use tumblr and are falsely raising red flags because of it." (read full post here)

to sum it up: don't hit 'report' right away- marinate a lil and put on a detective hat

-> step 2: background check

the following are accounts that are known to vet/verify gfm campaigns here on tumblr. note- this is not a comprehensive list:

el-shab-hussein

nabulsi

90-ghost* (edit 8/4: recently announced that ahmed will no longer be vetting/verifying new campaigns)

ibtisams* (only has done it on situational basis; is not currently vetting new campaigns- read post here)

rubashabansblog (has been promoting other palestinians who lost their tumblr accounts; currently living under occupation)

heba-20 (unsure if heba takes request to vet others personally but is a reliable source for finding legitimate campaigns)

northgazaupdates

fairuzfan (says they are less active on tumblr these days/not currently vetting new campaigns but is a reliable source)

i recommend giving these individuals a follow if you haven't already as they provide far more information regarding all things 🇵🇸. they've all put in a lot of work to make the process i'm sharing with y'all as simple as possible. also please be respectful if you try reaching out to any of them. they are likely getting a high volume of asks and may not be able to respond to you quickly

important note: it has been recently announced that nabulsi + el-shab-hussein have stopped vetting new accounts for the time being and are only focusing on campaigns that have already been vetted. read their full statement here and here

to start- check out the person's account. this can be a hit or miss depending on how new the account is. however- you may notice that the person in question has stated that they have been vetted:

good signs so far- but better to be safe than sorry. next thing to do is search the username of the person who messaged you on tumblr. it's likely if you got a message like the one pictured above, others may have received one as well and did the digging for you:

if you can't find a clear answer with tumblr's illustrious search bar/want to confirm someone's claim that the campaign in question was already verified, the next thing to do is check one of the following:

el-shab-hussein's pinned post

el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's google sheet

imo, this process is far easier to do while on a laptop/desktop vs. mobile app. ctrl+f is your friend in this scenario as is the ability to click through multiple tabs. for el-shab-hussein's pinned post, i click through the multiple lists and see if any names match. in ruba's case, she was found under List of fundraisers for my direct contacts from Ghazzah & Sudan:

and for the google sheet- her campaign is no. 90 on the list:

tip: to narrow down your search even further- ctrl+f the title of the person's gfm campaign that they've linked on their tumblr account:

-> step 3: share your findings + follow that account

if everything checks out- ✨share le campaign✨ provide the link to it in your response to the ask + where it was verified. make it easier for the next person who gets a message to figure out that the gfm is real

following ��accounts is esp. important since the forces that be are keen on suppressing them at every turn. the more eyes on these accounts- the easier it'll be to determine the legitimacy of any new accounts they may need to make

---

okay, but... scams 😬:

-> step 1: seek a master

people can be assholes- and anyone trying to make a profit off of an ongoing genocide can eat glass

anyways- the following are accounts that are known to identify scam posts on tumblr (again, not a comprehensive list. these are just the one's ive seen/most familiar with):

mangocheesecakes

kyra45

kyra45's pinned post contains a plethora of resources to help determine if a post/message is a scam- and not just in regards to 🇵🇸- key goes in on many types of scams. please refer to their guides (and be sure that you are reading the most recent version of key's posts)

-> step 2: if you see sumn, say sumn

we're human and sometimes things slip our radar. so if you ever see someone on here sharing a known scam, do 'em a solid and let them know about it regardless if you are mutuals or not

---

final/misc. thoughts:

it's good practice to double check a campaign's verification with these tools for yourself regardless of how legitimate it looks. note that checking for a gfm's verification is not the same as verifying them. that work should be left to qualified individuals with experience in doing so. this is why it's bad to attempt things you are not qualified to tackle also- i think it's important to remember that transferring 💵 from a gfm campaign to those in need requires a lot of pieces to be perfectly set in place. if you see 🇵🇸 blogs linking alt. methods of raising funds (ex. p*ypal/k*fi) the reason could be that their gfms were frozen/suspended for a myriad of reasons. as always- check credible sources if you are unsure about a campaign you may come across notice how the spreadsheet provided here has over 100+ campaigns listed. generating a list that extensive requires hard work that is undoubtedly both physically and mentally straining to the individuals who are involved in making it. i've seen some accounts myself that have had to announce that they can no longer continue to vet campaigns because it has taken that much of a toll on their wellbeing. do not let their efforts go wasted

other resources:

some other places/grassroot organizations where you can find vetted campaigns:

operation olive branch (oob)

gazafunds

operation poppy flower (now also linked in oob's sheet)

operation watermelon

project watermelon

strawberry seeds collective

ottawa4palestine

camps breakerz crew

gofund(water)me(lons)

flowersfromfalasteen

[it-was-summer]

Come In With The Rain (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all, I'm so sorry for the late posting. I know that I don't have a new chapter of 'Video Killed the Radio Star' out yet, but stay with me here. This is part one (of two) of my 500 followers post! I want to thank everyone for reading and being so sweet throughout the years. I really hope you all like this first part! The second part will probably be posted sometime this upcoming week. AND IT WILL BE 18+. I'm estimating sometime between Thursday and Saturday. Again, this is not proofread because I never learn. Love you all- Em <3

Link to the Ao3: Come In With The Rain

You are on Part One! -> Part Two

Yee olde masterlist

WARNING: Slow burn ahh fanfiction, emotional cheating, an accusation of emotional cheating, couple fighting, sex mentioned, alcohol mentions, drunk reader at one point, light cursing, babygirl Spencer Reid, suggestion BLINK AND YOU MISS IT SUGGESTION that Reid is Bi, reader is referred to as a woman, she/her/hers pronouns at some parts, and mention of feeling like a burden. AND probably something else, idk.

Plot: Spencer Reid becomes friends with you after bumping into you at a grocery store. Instantly enamored with you he develops a crush. A crush, apparently destined to fail, because why wouldn't you have a boyfriend?

Word Count: 10,365 (That's correct... 24 PAGES)

 Day One 

Almost everyone could agree that Spencer’s job was incredibly arduous. If not arduous, it was strenuous, formidable, occasionally crushing, onerous; the list goes on. Overall, his job –despite all its pitfalls– was something he loved. There was one thing he was starting to hate more than anything, though: he couldn’t seem to keep all his groceries from going bad after a week of back-to-back cases. 

Spencer narrows his eyes at his messy handwriting, looking back and forth between the paper in his hands and the cans in front of him. He just couldn’t find the can that he was looking for. Penelope had loaned him her recipe a few weeks back, and despite his disastrous efforts in the kitchen, he was determined to give it a shot. His mother never taught him how to cook –not that he blamed her, of course– so it was truly an area in which he simply lacked a lot of skill. Given his eidetic memory, he didn’t really need a list, but Penelope said this brand was best for her recipe when they talked last week. He didn’t want to risk it, so he wrote it down. 

He turned his head side-to-side, looking for a nearby worker, but found none. The only person in this aisle was him. He frowned a little before the sound of a sigh passing behind him made him jump. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see a woman standing behind him, staring at a list in hand. He couldn’t help but wonder when you had gotten there and how long you had been standing behind him before your sigh alerted Spencer to the presence of another life form in this aisle. 

Your head tilted slowly, your eyes met his, and Spencer felt his mouth drying. He wasn’t charming around beautiful women like Derek; most of all, he hadn’t expected to run into one at the grocery store. Your eyes stayed on Spencer for a second before they moved towards the cans in front of them. Spencer felt like a warmth had just been pulled away from him in the absence of your gaze. 

He shuffles out of your eyeline as you scan the cans with a soft smile. “Thank you,” your voice was light and airy, carrying a softness that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing. Your body is closer to his as you walk toward the cans and carefully reach up on your tiptoes to grab a can of sauce on the highest shelf. 

Spencer gets the idea stupidly slow: He should get it for you. He clears his throat and maneuvers his body to avoid touching the beautiful stranger beside him. He slides the sauce can off the shelf and hands it to you. 

He’s greeted with a dazzling smile, dimples on your cheeks, and eyes shining bright under the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. “Thank you,” you repeat before you stare at him expectantly. 

Spencer can’t help but feel like his IQ is taking slashes as he stares at that smile, “Spencer,” 

You gave him a gentle nod as you walked the sauce over to your cart, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m Y/N.” You say as you look over your shoulder at him, hair falling into your face. For the first time in a long time, Spencer can feel the ends of his fingers twitching with anticipation at the idea of offering to brush the hair out of your face for you. He gives you a soft smile instead, his eyes trailing back to the list in his hands in an attempt to stop himself from staring. 

Your voice near him almost makes him let out a yelp of surprise as you say, “Are you looking for something? I don’t work here, but I cook a lot.” You say matter-of-factly, suggesting that your cooking hobby somehow made you an expert in the grocery store layout. 

Spencer felt like handing you his list and following you around like a puppy dog for the rest of his grocery shopping if it meant you’d keep standing this close to him. “Yeah, uhm, this brand of chili beans.” 

“Oh, you haven’t looked low enough.” You barely even glance at his list before bending your knees and crouching down to the lower shelf to grab it. You look up from the ground, holding the can of beans for him to take with a bright smile before you say, “You’re so tall you must have forgotten about the lower shelves.” A laugh escapes your lips as Spencer carefully grabs the can from your hand. 

You stand up with a gentle sigh. He can tell that you’re about to say something else when a man’s voice interrupts you. Your eyes grow brighter at the sound, and your head quickly turns toward the sound at the far left end of the aisle. “I got the cheese.” As he approaches, the man shoots the shredded cheese into the cart with a grin. 

You mouth a soft ‘yay’ as the man’s arm quickly wraps around your waist. “Josh, this is Spencer. I was just helping him look for a can of beans. Spencer, this is Josh.” 

Spencer feels his lips draw into a tight-lipped smile as he waves his free hand, “Nice to meet you,” He says with a slight nod. 

“She’s always talking to strangers, I swear. Stop making friends everywhere you go, you little angel.”  Josh says as he pinches your side, earning a melodious laugh from you. Spencer feels a little nauseous.

“Hey, gross.” You chuckle lightly as you pull Josh’s hand off your side, “Anyways, it was nice to meet you, Spencer. See you around.” You grab the handle of your cart with a beautiful smile before rolling the cart out of the aisle with Josh in tow. 

Spencer watches you until you take a right and disappear from his view, and now he can only look at the can of beans in his hand. He sighs at his luck, smiling a little with amusement at the fact that you have a boyfriend. His short interaction made it clear to him that you were easy to get along with. Beautiful, kind, easygoing, of course, you had a boyfriend. 

Spencer silently resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never see you or Josh again as he continued with his unneeded list.

Now, he felt like the fabled gods of fate were laughing down at him as he made the last trip to his car. He was closing the trunk of his car when he heard a familiar voice yell out his name from across the parking lot. “Spencer!” You yelled with bags in hand, panting lightly as you approached him with a light jog. “How funny is this?” 

A sarcastically bitter voice was in his head. Only the Ancient Greeks would find this funny. “Do you live in this building?” he asked as his eyes scanned the parking lot for Josh. His shoulders relaxed as he realized that it was just you. 

“Yeah, third floor.” You say as you readjust the bags in your hands. Spencer gave you an amused smile as he slid his last two bags on one arm, extending his free arm toward you. 

“Need some help?” He offers in a soft voice. You give him a grateful look as you nod, handing him a slightly heavy bag. Typically, you wouldn’t have accepted help from a perfect stranger, but almost everything about Spencer screamed non-threatening, so you let yourself be a little trusting. 

“Can’t believe that we’re neighbors. I'm glad I talked to you at the store; I made a neighbor friend!” Your speaking speed almost matches his when he is going on his excited ramblings. 

Spencer pushes a door open with his back, holding it open for you with his foot as he laughs. “I guess it's plausible, being that the grocery store is as close as it is.” He’s quick to move to the next door, repeating the motion. 

You smile gently as Spencer opens another door for you, this one leading the two of you to the stairwell. “Oh, you’re probably one of those people who doesn’t believe in fate, aren’t you, Spencer?” 

“I would have to say that I absolutely fall within the twenty-nine percent of Americans who do not believe in fate. Nothing is predetermined.” 

“Maybe you’re predetermined to believe that,” Is your quick remark as you walk in front of him on the stairs. 

“Not likely,” 

“So, what? You’re a cynic?” 

Spencer smiles wide at the question, “How does my not believing in fate make me a cynic?” 

You grin, tossing a skeptical look over your shoulder, before speaking again. “Not believing in fate is such a cynical thing to do,” 

“And what does that make you?” 

“Stupid and optimistically in love.” 

Spencer shakes his head, his eyes glancing at the door that leads to the second floor, but he continues to follow you up another flight of stairs without complaint. “I would label myself as a realist.” And a profiler, but he was careful to leave that part out. The cases over the years proved one thing to him: nothing was predetermined. There was an opportunity for change everywhere. 

“Okay, Mr. Realist, what about luck?” You asked as the two of you approached the door marked for floor three. 

He thought for a moment as you held the door open for him, “Maybe,” was all he could say as the memory of when he was struggling with his aim came to mind: killing an UnSub with a shot to the head when he had been aiming for his leg. 

“So you do believe in fate.” You turned your body to walk backward down the hallway with a satisfied, winning smile as you looked at him before slowing to a stop in front of your apartment door. 

“Fate and luck are not the same thing. Luck is usually used to describe an outcome; it’s a notion. It’s circumstantial.  Fate defies logic, science really.” He said as he handed you your bag carefully. His eyes glanced at the number on your door: thirty-seven. “You live with your boyfriend?” Spencer asks before he can stop himself, silently screaming at himself for being a creep. 

The question barely phases you as you reach into your pocket, searching for your keys. “Yeah, moved in six months ago.” 

“Oh, that’s nice.” Spencer hated small talk. Actually, he secretly hated the fact that the first person he found attractive, after months of failed dates, was taken. He also hated that you were living a floor above him for six months, and he hadn’t known about it– hadn’t known about you. Above all, he hated that he enjoyed your company already, especially having only known you for more than a few hours at best. “How long have the two of you been together?” 

“A year and eleven months,” you answer with a soft smile, your eyes giving way to soft emotion as you open your door. “What floor do you live on again?” 

Spencer wants to say that you never asked, but he didn’t want to seem rude. He was sure you couldn’t be rude if you tried, that sweet smile of yours not capable of the act. “Second floor,” he answers as he readjusts his bags timidly. 

With a soft gasp, you set down a bag or two, “Oh! I’m sorry.” You apologize softly as you look up at him, your eyes beautiful and tender. Spencer can’t remember if he is mad when he looks into those eyes. 

Spencer let out a meek and barely audible “It’s okay,” He decides it truly is.

You bite your bottom lip and smile at him, “Well, thanks for your help, Spencer. I really appreciated it. Come up some time and say hi!” As you beam at him, you move a stray hair out of your face. 

Spencer nods slowly, swallowing thickly, and manages a soft smile. His feet move his body back to the stairwell slowly. “Okay, I’ll do that.” 

Day Forty-Two 

You’re laughing over something Josh said. Spencer doesn’t really get it, but you seem to think it is the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. Punchlines usually went over his head, but he was always happy to nod along with a smile on his face. 

Spencer honestly didn’t want to come up and visit you and Josh a month ago. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Perhaps he just didn’t have it in himself to stay away from your electric personality—why he visited you and Josh three Saturdays ago was still a mystery to him.

As Josh walks away with a smug smile, you turn to Spencer. He watches as you lean towards him, eyes tracking Josh until he’s out of sight. Your amused smile falls from your face as you whisper a soft, “Did you get that?” 

Spencer is taken aback at the question. You laughed at Josh’s joke; how did you not get it? Why did you laugh so hard if you didn’t get it? He wonders until he’s whispering that same question to you, “If you didn’t get it, why did you laugh?” 

You smile a little cheekily and only slightly embarrassed, “I didn’t want him to know I didn’t find it funny. Sometimes, he falls short of witty humor.” 

Spencer smiles at that, shaking his head as he stares over at the area where Josh disappeared. “Why don’t you just tell him that you didn’t find it funny?” 

“Because,” Your voice sounds offended, but the amused look in your eyes tells him differently, “I’m his girlfriend of two years, and I’m nice. Unlike some people.” You give him a side-eyed glare, making Spencer gasp in mock defense. 

“I’m nice!” He hisses out in a defensive whisper. He briefly falters at your incredulous look before slowly nodding in defeat, “Okay, I’m a little mean sometimes.” 

You smile again and face him, your hands moving as you talk, “Which is funny because you’re perfectly nice when you’re around me.” 

Spencer didn’t have an answer to that one either. After being friendly with the couple for a little over a month, he just could not be friends with Josh. His jokes flew over Spencer’s head, he talked over you (and sometimes him), and he never seemed to take your interests seriously. 

Last Monday after work, you called Spencer, asking him if he wanted to go to the movies with you to see a tragic Italian film. He was quick to say yes, partially because of the excellent movie selection and because he wanted to be around you more. 

When he asked why Josh wasn’t joining them, you simply said that it wasn’t Josh’s thing. That didn’t sit right with him, but he let it go. Then, the day after, you called him again, asking him if he’d be willing to go with you to one of those paint-and-sip places around town that weekend. 

His answer was another resounding yes, and he didn’t even drink. Then the question came again during the class, and you responded with the same thing– it wasn’t Josh’s thing. 

Josh’s thing was going off to work all day and then coming home to ignore you for a good two hours before dinner. Then he was all yours again. At least, that’s what Spencer saw. He understood that everyone needed their alone time and that he was being a little petty and a little jealous toward Josh. 

He wanted to be the bigger person, honestly. It was just so hard when your boyfriend made it so easy for Spencer to hate him. He’d never say that to you, of course. You looked at Josh like he had hung the moon yesterday and then created the stars today. You never missed a chance to talk about Josh around… well, anyone—the precursor to Spencer’s current dilemma. 

Deep down inside, he knew that his inappropriate crush on you couldn’t possibly get worse. So he thought, What’s the harm in becoming close friends with you? If anything, it was likely that seeing more of your personality would pull his rose-colored glasses off his face and force him to see you in a normal, less love-sick light. After all, he had gotten over his embarrassing crush on JJ and saw her almost daily at work.

When Josh walks back into the room, he’s on his phone. He barely glances up from the text as he speaks to you, “Hey, babe, would it be okay with you if I head out for the night?” 

Your eyebrows furrow with confusion, “But Spencer is here, and we were going to finish the movie, remember?” 

“Right, but I already know what happens. I mean, it’s a tragedy, right? Spencer and you always have more fun together doing your nerd stuff. No offense, Spencer. The guys just want me to go out with them.” 

A realization dawns on your face as you realize he’s not asking so much as telling you he’s leaving. You nod slowly, letting Josh kiss your forehead before he grabs his keys and leaves. You look over at Spencer, who is trying to be polite by not watching the scene, looking down at the television remote with a deep interest. 

You smile slowly, sadly, and turn your body a little on the couch facing the television. The rest of the night is spent in your living room with Spencer, sitting next to each other and watching a movie before ending with your head on his shoulder and the soft tone of someone saying they “Liked the movie.” 

Day Ninety-Three

You could feel something starting to slip. It was a familiar feeling; something in the ground was shaking. It shook you, at least. You always noticed it first—a crack in the ship's hull.  You were always the first to address it, too. 

With Josh, it used to be customary for him to apologize for any indiscretion and try to fix the damage. But false promises are like duct tape in the ship’s hull, slipping and sliding against wet wood, water pouring in until the whole ship goes down. 

It wasn’t always like this. Him coming home and ignoring you for hours, only to acknowledge you late into the evening. It was relatively new to your relationship. Well, if you consider nine months new. By now, you could only label it as consistent. Before you lived with your loving boyfriend, he would carve out time in the evenings just to talk with you for hours or take you on dates that sometimes lasted for days on the weekends. 

You knew that living together would take some of that away– everyone deserved to have their private time, and you weren’t going to start demanding day-long dates anytime soon. You just missed the effort he used to put in, the time when he would make days for the two of you– hours for just the two of you. 

A year ago, Josh would have jumped to see that weird new Hungarian horror movie with subtitles for you if you had asked. He would have attempted to stay awake during it, hold your hand during the parts that scared you, something lovely. 

The first crack started when you moved in with him. One evening, you had gotten home from work early and occupied the living room for a few hours, watching some random French movie that had been recommended to you by your best friend. She didn’t like this kind of thing but knew you did, so you were grateful that she had thought of you. 

When he came home from work a little later than usual, he saw you on the couch with a plate of pasta, watching the movie intently. You turned your head towards the door and smiled wide at him. “Hey! I made spaghetti, grab a plate and watch this movie with me? I’ll restart it.” Your hands were already reaching for the remote when a heavy, annoyed sigh cut through the air. You looked over at him again and gave him a gentle, empathic smile, “Hey… did you have a hard day? We don’t have to watch anything we could–”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to do anything with you right after I get off work?” Josh hissed out as he threw his keys onto the wooden kitchen table. 

You felt your head reel back a little at the question, and you laughed a little, pushing yourself up to sit on your knees on the couch. “I’m sorry?” 

“Have you ever thought I might want to come home after work and not talk to you for a few hours? I mean, I thought that after living here for two months, you would have caught on, but clearly you haven’t. I come home, and you’re right there, ready to talk. Prepared to force me to sit down and watch some… foreign language film that has some profound meaning that you’ll blabber about for thirty minutes before bed tonight.” 

You blinked a little at his harsh words, which were unlike him. He never seemed annoyed by your passions, hobbies, or ramblings. In fact, he always seemed to encourage them. You tried your best to give him a genuine smile, “Love, you’ve had a long day. Let’s just take a second and get some food in you, and then we can d–” 

“You’re not getting it,” he laughed bitterly, a sound that caused a sick knot to grow in your throat. “Sometimes, I’m tired of it being we, we, we, we. I’m always doing things with you: Cooking with you, reading with you, watching movies with you, sleeping with you, going on dates with you. Ever since you moved in, it's like it's always an ‘us’ task or a ‘we’ task.” His voice was rising in volume, and you felt your breathing becoming shaky. “I feel like you're always on top of me. It’s suffocating! Maybe I just want to be alone for a few hours. Maybe I don’t want to watch your stupid, fucking, symbolic foreign films.” 

“I... I didn’t know that’s how you felt.” You breathed out as you slowly turned the television off and got up with your plate. You wanted him to apologize, you wanted him to soften those brown eyes and start telling you that he didn’t mean it. You wanted him to tell you that work was brutal that day, and he had accidentally lashed out at you. But he just stared at you, panting a little. “I’ll leave you alone some more. I, uhm, I’ll watch this alone in our room.” 

And that was that. You had convinced yourself that you were a problem. You were too clingy, always in his space, always trying to force him to like your hobbies, always trying to share too much of yourself with him, always too much. So you decided that maybe what you wanted to do wasn’t his thing anymore. 

Besides, you had plenty of friends that liked the same things as you did… maybe. Molly didn’t like foreign films, but Alex enjoyed them enough. Molly did like to paint, but her schedule always conflicted with yours. Sabrina was also a fan of painting but had moved to Boston last month. The list of her friends with crazy work schedules could go on and on, as could the list of friends who moved. You had thought about reaching out to some of them, but Josh’s words rattled you to your core, and suddenly, you felt like a burden for wanting to spend time with your loved ones. 

Then, after six months of living with Josh, you met a man in a grocery store—a tall, hazel-eyed, intelligent man. Spencer Reid was unlike any man you had ever met in your life, a rare friend. He was transparent, often going into long, passionate tangents that always had you learning something new. So when he randomly mentioned a foreign film he wanted to see that weekend in one of your conversations, you felt comfortable asking him to come to the movies with you.

Then again, to the paint-and-sip place where the two of you failed to partake in any wine and managed to paint two terrible renditions of sunflowers. Spencer Reid was becoming a friend that you didn’t think you’d burden. Your other friends were quick to explain that you weren’t too much. Still, maybe it was because he had helped you carry your groceries up to the apartment the first day you met him or the way he was so happy to listen to your stories and thoughts. Something about Spencer Reid made you believe him when he said that you weren’t a burden. 

And he was nice to be around. Then, there was the pesky fact of Spencer being attractive. At first, it was more of a passing thought. The way he wore his glasses late at night, how his hair fell to one side, the way his fingers were so gentle with books. He was a good-looking man in a nerdy way. Mix that with sweet, caring, and accomplished; he was a threat. 

A threat to anyone but your loving boyfriend of two years. Sabrina was laughing over something you had said over the phone, her giggles rising in volume as she tried to speak between them, “He’s a.” Giggling. “An adonis of th–” Cackling. “The mind!” She managed before asking, “What does that even mean?” 

“It means he’s a very smart-minded, attractive person.” 

“Oh, so you’re like… crushing on the hot mind guy and fighting with Josh. Got it.” 

“I’m not fighting with Josh, and we talked about it last month. We’re okay now.” 

“Still ignoring you when he comes home?” 

You pause before you let out a slow sigh, “Yeah.” 

“What’s his record?” 

“Four hours and fifteen minutes. He said he will try to be more attentive throughout the week, but he just keeps…” You trail off. You can imagine Sabrina shaking her head on the other side of the line. 

“What about the weekends?” 

“Going out with his friends more, he visited his mom’s last weekend. Nary a date night in sight, not since our second anniversary at least, and that was..” 

“Yeah..” There was rustling, chips maybe, on her side of the line. “Maybe he’s planning something big. Maybe a trip? I don’t know, maybe you should bring it up again.” 

You nod a little, your hands typing away gently on your work computer. “Maybe. The last time I mentioned missing our date nights, he just said, ‘We have dinner dates every night at home.’ That was an incredible feeling.” 

“Something about weaponized ignorance is coming to mind.” 

“Don’t,” 

“Josh has been lacking in good boyfriend points since that stunt with the cake on your birthday,” 

“He got a little icing on my nose!” 

“Don’t,” She dragged out the ‘t’ sound, “Care! The disrespect! Your dress! Ugh, I’m going to get worked up. Talk to me about Dr. Genius.” 

“What about him?” 

“Does he ever, maybe, do something you wish Josh would start doing?” 

You laugh, “What? No…” 

“So you don’t wish that Josh would know the symbolism behind The Red Shoes and go into how… what did he say?” 

“That art was worth dying for, and that Hans Christian Andersen's original story surrounded a sense of morality and religious–” 

“Ah, Ah, Ah, so you don’t want Josh to know that?” 

“He doesn’t need to know that,” your fingers falter in their typing, “Two people can have similar interests and not be in love.” 

“Right, it just seems like lately, you’ve been…” You hate the awkward silence that follows Sabrina before she carefully speaks again, “Maybe replacing Josh with Spencer in your hobbies. I know Josh lashed out and was wrong, too, but this Spencer guy… he clicks with you– your hobbies, at least. And your witty humor, too. It seems he matches your intellectualism and your passion for learning,  exceeds it even, but Josh is steps below you. Josh, he… just always seems so tolerant of your hobbies.” 

“So what are you saying?” 

“Nothing,” a voice calls her name, “Look, I gotta go. Josh is great, and I’m just being silly. Maybe I just have a grudge against him or something. I love you.” 

“I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” You reply quickly before she ends the call. 

You shake your head a little at her words, still swimming in your mind as you go back to charting something on your computer. What did that even mean? Josh is steps below you. He wasn’t dumb. He just lacked… that dry humor you had with Spencer sometimes. A quick, witty remark that had one of you smiling in seconds. Besides, that notion was ridiculous, given you had only known Spencer for three months. Josh made up for it in love… and you did love him. 

All couples went through rough patches, but you were sure that if you raised your concerns again with Josh, things would change. You nod a little at the thought as you sigh, shifting in your chair slightly as you readied yourself to be engulfed in your work. 

Day One Hundred and Forty-Six 

Spencer could feel the bass of some pop song thumping in his chest. It had been a pleasant and slow week at the BAU. While he would have loved to go home and sit down with some book of his choosing, he allowed Penelope and Derek to convince him to go out with them. 

The bar wasn’t too far from his apartment complex, so he didn’t mind. Penelope was twirling her drink's tiny umbrella between her fingers as she pointed towards a pretty red-head dancing in a dark green dress. “What about her?” 

They have been playing this game for ten minutes now. By they, he means Garcia and Morgan. The game is ‘Who does Spencer find pretty at the bar?’ 

“Babygirl, you have a great eye,” Derek says as he points the woman out to Spencer, but before he can say anything else, Spencer decides they’ve played this game past the point of amusement. 

“Why can’t we accept that I don’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, again?” 

Penelope frowned a little, giving Spencer a pleading look. “You said that the last time we took you to the bar, you were willing to participate next time. It’s next time, Reid.” 

Spencer remembers the conversation and groans softly as he sips on his water. He hated disappointing them with his lack of effortless charm. It had improved through the years, but he still struggled to find the right words to say in front of someone he found attractive. 

“Come on, Pretty Boy. Are you going to back out of your promise?” Derek’s voice is teasing as he smiles at Spencer. Spencer can’t help but feel a sense of newfound obligation. He knew what was holding him back and hated himself for it. 

His inappropriate crush on you had grown to be near debilitating, and even though Spencer had told himself that it’d never happen, he kept holding out hope that one day it would. He had gone on dates in the near five months he had known you, but he always ended up comparing his dates to you. They never laughed as sweet as you. They came up with the same academically related jokes you did. They never– they just weren’t you, simple as that. 

“Fine, but someone else. She’s pretty, but I think that girl is her girlfriend.” He pleaded softly, watching as a taller brunette woman spun around the pretty redhead to the beat. 

Penelope clapped and set down her drink, “This next one has to be perfect.” 

“Pretty boy’s future bride,”

Spencer felt his cheeks flush at that, and he nudged Derek with a nervous laugh. Penelope was still scanning the crowd. The bar wasn’t empty or devoid of beautiful women or men for her to choose from, but no one screamed Spencer Reid material. Derek was scanning the crowd with her, always happy to see her passionate about something, even if it was Reid’s love life. 

A gasp slipped past Penelope’s lips as she grabbed Derek’s arm tight, her index pointing toward someone by the speakers. Derek’s eyes landed on who she was pointing at, and he smiled wide, nodding quickly, “Future Mrs. Reid material,” 

Spencer can barely see where they are pointing as he tries to look toward the area that Garcia is pointing at. Then he sees her. It’s you, and his heart drops. He wants to tell his friends he knows that isn’t ‘Future Mrs. Reid’ at all, but Derek and Penelope are already pushing him into the crowd. He glares back at them and stubbles with his footing for a second before walking toward you. 

You’re wearing a beautiful black dress, hugging your curves. In the flashing lights, Spencer thinks that you’re shining. Your hips sway lightly to the beat as you stand near the speakers, alone. 

Spencer gently taps you on your shoulder, and when you turn around, you have a glare on your face before you see it's him. He almost laughs at how you gasp and loudly scream, “Spencer!” Your hands fly out to his shoulders, shaking him gently as you giggle. “Hi!” You’re so drunk. 

Spencer is sure that Penelope and Derek are watching the scene unfold with confused expressions as he laughs softly, your hands on his shoulders gently shaking his body side-to-side. “Hey, where’s Josh?” He yells over the music. 

“Getting drinks!” You yell back in an excited tone. 

He smiles wide and shakes his head a little; he usually doesn’t find drunk people endearing. But right now, in the flashing lights of the bar, your rosy-cheek face and tipsy giddiness have him feeling a little more enamored than usual. 

“Who are you here with?” You ask loudly, your hands falling away from his shoulders. 

“Uh, my friends, coworkers!” he replies as he stands beside you to point out the confused-looking pair staring at them. 

“Can I say hi?” He could tell that your friendly disposition continued even when intoxicated, and he found himself adoring the consistency. He nods gently, and you’re smiling so much. Spencer wonders how someone could be so excited about meeting someone else’s friends. 

He leads you over, your fingers grabbing the back of his button-up as he carefully leads you through the crowd. The gentle pull of your fingers gripping his shirt makes his cheeks burn as he stops in front of Derek and Penelope. “Y/N, Derek, and Penelope. Penelope and Derek, Y/N.” 

You let go of the back of his button-up quickly as you extend a giddy hand, “Hi, I haven’t met any friends of Spencer's yet.” 

Derek looks amused as he shakes your hand, his eyes flicking between you and Spencer, “How do you know the boy genius?” 

“I found him looking lost in the grocery store. We’re neighbors! Well, almost,” You let go of Derek’s hand to point towards the roof, “I’m on top of him.” 

Spencer can feel the breath knocked out of his lungs as he quickly corrects you, “She lives on the floor above me.” He explains before either of them can make a joke. 

Penelope matches your happy attitude as she shakes your hand, “We had no idea that Spencer had a friend in his apartment complex! How long have the two of you been friends?” 

“Almost five months,” You say with a little giggle, leaning toward Penelope slightly. “Spencer comes over to discuss movies with me or books, or we went to a poetry reading last weekend.” 

“He comes over often, huh?” Derek’s voice asks playfully, and you nod quickly. 

“The mothership is always beckoning,” You joke, laughing harder than you should at your own joke. 

Penelope slowly drops your hand, tilting her head, and her flower earrings sway slightly. “And... your roommate is okay with that?” she asks carefully, and Spencer wants to ask why she doesn’t simply ask if you have a boyfriend. 

“Oh, no. Josh doesn’t care. He’s my boyfriend of two years. Nothing can break that security, I’m sure.” You look towards the bar for him and catch his eye. You wave high and wide for him, and he smiles, shaking his head at you as he waits for the drinks.

“So, Pretty Boy here is just a friend.” 

You giggle a little at the nickname and try to cover your smile with your hand, looking at Spencer. “Pretty Boy?” You giggle out. Spencer frowns a little and goes to defend himself, but you’re already nodding, “He is a pretty boy. That’s fitting.” Then, he feels like his body is on fire. 

Derek is about to say something when Josh slides behind you with two drinks. “Always with Spencer,” he teases softly, kissing your cheek before handing you your drink. 

“Josh, these are Spencer’s friends, Penelope and Derek.” You say, taking the drink and happily taking a small sip. 

Josh holds out his hand for them to shake, a charming smile on his face, “I thought Spencer’s only friend was my girlfriend.” 

Penelope doesn’t laugh, but she still manages a polite smile and shakes his hand before Derek does the same thing. Spencer fidgets a little, still beside you. You turn your head up toward him, and you mouth a soft, ‘He’s drunk’ as a way to excuse Josh’s behavior. 

However, recently, Josh has been acting like that sober. He would demand to join the two of you at the movies while complaining about the movie selection. He’d sit between the two of you if the opportunity arose, which wasn’t strange. What was weird was how he’d become more physically affectionate with you in front of Spencer. Spencer hated that– hated looking at it.

Josh quickly grabs your shoulders and says, “We should let you all get back to your night.” It sounds like a suggestion, but he’s already leading you away. You gasp as he guides you away from the three of them, and you quickly smile, wave, and yell out a quick, ‘It was nice to meet you’ before you walk further away with Josh. 

Penelope sips on her drink as a way to stop herself from talking, but Derek breaks the silence first. “So he’s jealous of you.” 

Spencer wants to deny it, but even he can’t deny the facts. “Not at first, but now… I don’t know if I’m not nice enough or if I did something, but yeah, lately, he’s been like that.” 

Penelope sighed and looked toward where you and Josh had walked off to, “She seems sweet,” 

“Yeah, Reid’s head over heels for her too.” 

“Wait, Spencer, are you?” 

His cheeks are flushed, and he’s shaking his head a little, a lame attempt to try and hide his feelings. Derek lays it on thick, “Come on, he doesn’t let just anyone touch him. Did you see how he looked at her when he approached her earlier? Like a lovesick dog with a bone in his mouth.” 

Spencer raises his hands and scoffs, “Okay, I’m working on it, alright. She’s just easy to be around. I’m getting over it.” 

Penelope is swooning over the information, “A forbidden romance,” 

“Her gatekeeper boyfriend and you, the pretty boy genius from downstairs,” Derek adds. 

Spencer sighs, annoyed with their teasing, “Alright, let’s drop it.” The pair gives him a look, and he adds a soft, “Please.” Seeing their friend’s annoyance didn’t usually deter them, but the way he shifted from one foot to the other as he begged them to stop had Penelope and Derek sharing a look before letting all their silent jokes go. Spencer was grateful that evening had returned to normal, his nervous thoughts slowly slipping away with easy conversation. 

Day One Hundred and Eighty-Three 

You’re sure Josh is mad at you for something. You just can't get it out of him. A few weeks ago, he had been nothing but sincere. Soft again, sweet again, him from a little over a year ago. It was beautiful, and it felt like he had finally listened. It felt like he had come back around and somehow repaired the hull. 

Then he started ignoring you again. You had been careful, so careful, not to suffocate him like he mentioned. You make sure that you go out with Spencer on weekends. You distance yourself just enough for Josh to miss spending time with you. Spending time with Spencer was also good for you; he helps keep your spirits high.

He kept you feeling lighter than air. He would text you sometimes on cases with the team when he was out of town. Little reminders, little jokes, and sometimes… It felt nice. You didn’t know how to describe it. Thrilling, calming, extraordinary, and tumultuous all that once. It confused you, pulled at the heartstrings, softly tugging at something deep within you. It unsettled you and made you ache when you looked at Josh in bed next to you. 

But his sweetness distracted you. Erased longing and replaced it with familiar love. You knew his steps, and he knew yours. 

And now, he was angry with you. You didn’t want to ask, and you didn’t want to be a pest to the man you loved. You hoped he would just come right out and say it. You hoped that his cup of secret rage would overflow and spill over.

The sound of heavy footsteps disrupts your stagnant reading. Your eyes kept reading the same sentence. Every time you tried to continue with the following sentence, you found yourself unable to do so. You set the book face down on the bed and smiled a little at Josh as he stood in the doorway. It was Friday night, and Spencer was on a case. Molly was busy, Christina was busy, and everyone was busy. So you stayed home, attempting to read. 

He was drunk, no drunk didn’t even cover it. He looked like death, pale with red eyes and muttering incoherent things to himself. “Josh… are you okay?” Your smile quickly faded, and you moved to the edge of the bed, watching him sway against the door frame. 

He didn’t answer and just laughed a little, which turned into a groan and then a sigh. You push yourself off the bed and walk to him, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek, but before your fingers can touch him, he smacks your hands away with a deep frown. “Josh!” You gasp as you pull your hand away, rubbing at the slightly pink skin. 

“Not right,” he mutters, and you shake your head as you try to understand what he’s talking about. 

“What’s not right? Josh, are you okay?”

He stumbles as he pushes past you, his shoulder roughly bumping into yours as he sits on the bed. You stay by the door. “This. Us, not right anymore.” He roughly puts it together. 

You can feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach as you turn around to face him, “What are you talking about?” 

“Not right anymore,” his drunk hands are dramatically waving between the two of you, “You’re not,” he motions to his chest lamely, “Here anymore.” 

You can feel the tears threatening to rise in your eyes, your breathing becoming fast as you shake your head. “I’m here, you’re here.” You point your index into your chest, just above your heart. “What are you saying?” 

“Not here,” He repeats loudly. 

“I am here!” you yell back as you walk to him. “I don’t know what happened tonight, but we can discuss it, Josh. We can fix things.” You can feel the weight of the world crashing down on your chest, its weight making it difficult to breathe clearly. 

“No,” 

You’re quick to talk over him, “Yes, we can,” 

“No, we can’t,”

“Whatever it is, it’s okay, we can–” 

“No–” 

“It’s okay, I won’t be mad–”

“I’m in love with someone else,” He yells, his spit hitting your cheek. Your hands twitch slightly at the feeling, but you can’t move. All you can do is stare at him with a gaping mouth, opening and closing repeatedly like a fish. You couldn’t form the words, and your mind was blank. “Don’t give me that.” 

You feel like someone else’s voice is speaking, “Give you what? Shock? Disgust? You’re in love with someone else. How else am I supposed to react? Do you want me to be happy? Oh, Josh, I’m so happy for you and your mistress! I’m so glad that you’re fucking her and me at the same time! I’m so happy, so happy!” 

“I’m not fucking Estelle, she and I,” 

“Your coworker, are fucking you kidding me?” 

“Oh, shut up with the pity party!” He looks sober suddenly, his face red and twisted with rage as he stands up from the bed. Your footing slips a little before you catch yourself walking back from him. “You think these past six months I’ve enjoyed having him over here all the time? Giggling with you in the living room over some intellectual private joke that I don’t get, o-or how about when you disappear with him every weekend you can? Introducing you to his friends in bars, going to movies with you, you didn’t try hiding it from me!” 

“Him? Who are you talking about?” Then it dawned on you, and Josh could tell from how your back straightened and how you looked at him with unsure eyes. “Spencer? You think I’m cheating on you with Spencer?” 

“Not physically, but yes.” 

“Josh, what are you even saying right now? I made a friend who likes the same things I do. I mean… a year ago, you told me that I was suffocating. You told me that you didn’t enjoy my hobbies. Did you just expect me to stop them? How did I cheat on you? Spencer and I we’ve never–”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve never fucked, or-or kissed him! Emotionally, you gave up on us. You’re only emotionally available for him. He gets you, all your jokes, your kindness, everything. He has it all. You’re always running into his arms!”  

“Running into his arms? Josh, you push me to him. I don’t love Spencer; we are just friends. He’s there for me because he is my friend! What are you going to say now? Th-that I forced you to Estelle, who, by the way, I saw last month at that Holiday party for the office. Are you going to tell me that me being by your side all while having a friend with the same interest as me was too much for you?” You can barely breathe. 

“You know it's more than that, don’t play victim. I can see the way you look at him. You used to look at me like that, and then six months ago, you met him. You didn’t even try.” 

“I didn’t try.” You repeat back before you’re scoffing a little, pacing the room quickly. “You shut me out. You stopped talking to me for months. If anyone has the right to play the victim here, it’s me. I don’t see you for hours. We had the day off for our second anniversary, and you didn’t talk to me until noon. When I moved in with you, did you even want me to be a person? Or did you want a perfectly still doll, interesting only when you want her to be interesting, talkative only when you want to listen, ready for the taking when it was good for you? Go ahead, treat me like a fucking doll.” 

Josh is shaking his head now, his breathing ragged as he slowly runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t,” He pauses, his eyes looking at a photo of the two of you from two years ago framed on the bedside table. “It doesn’t matter anymore? I don’t love you anymore. You can make me the villain. I don’t care. I want you out.” 

You swallow hard at his words and laugh a little, “Where am I supposed to go?” 

“I,” He looks at you, and you see how tired he looks. The part of you that still loves him feels crushed; the other just feels angry. “My name is on the lease. Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I’ll let you pack a bag, but I want you,” he motions towards the apartment, and you assume he means your presence in the apartment and your things. “Gone.” And he doesn’t let you say anything back, walking out into the living room. 

You stand still; you feel frozen. You don’t know if you want to start crying, start packing, or just call people to see if you can crash at theirs. That feeling, the feeling that he planted in you rises inside you. You’ll be a burden, suffocating, and miserable. But you need a place to sleep for the night. 

Your shaky hands reach for your phone on the bed, randomly calling people. Alex is out of town, you know. Christina just moved and doesn’t even have a couch yet. You call Molly, but she doesn’t answer. You wish you lived in Boston so you could call Sabrina, but that’s unrealistic. You keep scrolling through the contacts and try to think.

As you reach the next contact, your fingers falter, and your mouth feels dry. You hesitate multiple times before hitting the call button. You wait with bated breath as you bring your phone to your ear. 

Ring. 

You should hang up. This is a bad idea. 

Ring. 

Doesn’t this just prove Josh’s point? 

Ring. 

You don’t even know if he’s back in town or when he’ll be back. You should hang up before he answers; call someone else. 

The third ring is cut short as Spencer picks up the phone. Your hands shake as he says a gentle, tired, “Hello?” 

“He-hey.. Uh, are you still in Illinois?” 

“No, we’re an hour out. Are you okay? You sound like you’re upset.” 

You lick your lips quickly as you debate, telling him everything: the fight, how Josh is kicking you out. Instead, you settle for, “I just need a place to crash for the night, and I know it's a big ask, and you’re getting home from a case, but–” 

“Yes, yeah, you can stay at mine.” You let out a slow breath and nod a little, a sense of temporary relief settling over you. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. I… I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be at yours in an hour?” 

“See you soon,” Spencer says before you hang up the phone. You get to work as fast as you can, grabbing luggage from the closet and packing like a mad woman. Anything you can fit into the case, you carefully fold or roll up and stuff inside. 

An hour comes around, and you’re packed enough for a week at the very least. You grab the only thing on the bed that’s yours, a dark green blanket, before slowly rolling the suitcase into the living room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re not in your body anymore, watching the scene from the ceiling. 

Josh turns, a phone against his ear, and you only catch the ends of an ‘I love you’ before he hangs up. He draws his lips in a tight line before asking, “Where you headed?” 

You feel like he knows the answer, “Spencer’s.” 

His lips turn upwards, and he laughs; he laughs so hard that he’s gripping his side. “Ye-Yeah, that's right. Prove me right. Run straight to Doctor Reid. Fucking rich.” He snips at you as you finally feel the tears start to well up in your eyes. “You know what let him have my sloppy seconds.” 

You gasp softly, the comment like a punch in the gut. “Have fun fucking her in our bed. Make sure to put the pictures face down before you give her the most underwhelming four minutes of her life. I’ll be back tomorrow to start packing.” You say as you start stepping through the front door, slamming it behind you. You’re panting lightly in the empty hallway, your mind numb as tears stream down your face. You don’t remember lugging your stuff to the second floor or getting to Spencer’s door. 

The only thing you remember is the sound of your name and gentle hands grabbing your chin and tilting your head up with care. You remember sobbing, hyperventilating out the events of the past evening to him as he helps you inside. And the eventual call of sleep that reaches you on Spencer’s couch. 

Day One Hundred and Ninety

Spencer could hear the soft sounds of your computer playing something in the living room. Last Friday… Well, technically, early Saturday morning, you had your head on your knees outside his apartment door. The sound of sobs had him dropping his dirty go-bag and grabbing your chin to soothe you. 

He listened to everything: how Josh thought that you were emotionally cheating on him with Spencer, how Josh had fallen in love with a coworker, and how he kicked you out. You said you would have stayed, but the lease was in his name. It was a stupid decision of the past catching up with you– your words, not Spencer’s. 

You had told him that it would only be for one night, but Spencer wasn’t going to make you couch surf all week. He insisted that you stay with him until you found an apartment. He let you stuff your boxes of things in his study and was happy to do it. 

The worst part about this arrangement was seeing you like this, seeing you so heartbroken. You went to work a little later than him, came home later than him, ate, slept, and repeated the cycle. He kept catching you with a dissociative look on your face. Too scared to ask you if you were okay, he would awkwardly attempt to cheer you up with your shared hobbies. But that only worked for so long until you were ending the night with that numb look on your face again. 

He lays in bed, wondering if he should go into the living room to check on you. He barely thinks it through before he throws his covers off and slips out of bed. He has plaid pajama pants on with an old CalTech shirt, and when he walks into the living room, he can see you pause what you’re watching on your computer and smile at him. 

“Hey,” you whisper, even though it's just the two of you in the apartment. 

“Hey,” Spencer whispers back before sighing and walking toward the back of the couch. “Can’t sleep?” 

You look up at him before returning to the dimly lit computer screen, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” His quick reply has you nodding a little. You shift a little, pushing yourself up to make room on the couch for him. He takes the unspoken invitation and sits down next to you.”What are we watching?” 

You lick your lips nervously, “Romcom. When Harry Met Sally.”  

Spencer glances at you before he admits, “Never seen it.” 

You gasp softly, and that playful light returns in your eyes for a second. He hasn’t seen that light in a week. “Spencer Reid, you haven’t lived.” 

Spencer takes the opportunity to joke around with you, making a buzzer sound with his mouth. “Wrong. I’ve been alive for many years.” 

This gets a weak smile from you, but still a smile nonetheless. “You want to watch it with me? I know it's late, but… maybe it’ll lure you to sleep if you find it boring.” 

Spencer grins, glancing at the clock to see how late it is. He shakes his head a little, “Maybe we could just talk for a second? I’ve barely seen you this week.” He suggests. You’re quick to nod, shutting your laptop. You lean back on the sofa and bring your legs up to sit crisscrossed. He watches you. Your eyes are no longer red or puffy, but the skin on your cheeks still seems pale, lacking their natural rosiness. 

“I found a great apartment, but I can’t move in until the end of this month.” You break the silence first, hands folding awkwardly in your lap. 

Spencer nods, resisting the urge to hold one of your hands as he speaks. “That’s fine, and I’m not kicking you out anytime soon. You’re stuck with me for three more weeks.” 

You chuckle a little at that, “Ever the gentleman,” You say softly, but your eyes don’t have that light anymore. You seem distracted, your eyes lingering on him briefly before staring at your hands. “Spencer,” 

“Yeah?” 

“What do you do when everything feels like too much?” 

Your voice cracks softly as you ask the question, and Spencer is scared you’ll start crying again. He always feels useless whenever you cry, a genius without answers. He swallows the nervous lump in his throat: “I read, or sometimes I force myself to go out. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, I end up at the public library. Or sometimes, if I have the day, I go to the Smithsonian. But... it’s been a while.” 

You seem to perk up a little at the mention of the Smithsonian, and you give him a playfully little side glance, “Air and Space?” You guess with a small smile. 

He smiles and shrugs, “Sometimes,” he returns the playful sideways glance. “Portrait Gallery?” 

You’re laughing a little as you nod. Spencer feels relieved to hear its soft melody. “Portrait Gallery.” You confirm your pick with a soft sigh. 

Spencer lets warm silence spread for a second, his eyes occasionally flickering over to your serene expression. “What about you? What do you do when you’re overwhelmed?” 

Your eyes meet his as he asks the question, and for a second, you seem a little surprised that he is asking you anything. He wonders if you expected him to keep talking or ignore the tension in the air around you. 

“Well, reading is lovely. Museums, movies,” you pause for a second, and your expression softens. “Music. I love music when I’m feeling overwhelmed, sad, or happy. It’s a universal fix, music.” 

“What kind of music?” He has heard you talk about music before, how you didn’t understand people who hated it. Music helped him escape to childhood memories, the good ones at least. He wondered if it had the same effect on you. 

“Everything. Pop, country, indie, anything that moves me. I like classical too, but only sometimes.” 

“Why only sometimes?” 

“I like it in ballets, plays, movies. I like the visual representation that accompanies it.” Your eyes leave his slowly, “Like a music box with a ballerina inside.” 

Spencer finds that this version of you, the melancholy version, is blunt. You don’t people-please or avoid questions; instead, you would directly state something. He liked how you directly stated your musical likes and how honest they were. He finds himself wanting every version of yourself that you have shown him lately, and he feels a little guilty for it. 

A soft gasp from your lips stops him from overthinking, “Oh shoot,” You mutter as you pull out your phone, looking at the calendar before you curse softly. 

“What’s wrong?’ 

“I, uhm,” You swallow hard and set your phone down, “I just remembered that Josh and I were going to celebrate our third anniversary a little early this year. Our second wasn’t the best, and he promised we would do something I wanted to do. We had tickets to see Swan Lake.” You chew on your bottom lip slowly, getting lost in the thought before you say, “That’s next month. I gotta cancel.” 

Spencer can see how you slump at the thought and how sad it makes you to cancel the plans. He feels himself saying the words before he can even process them: “I can go with you.” 

You turn to him with a soft laugh of disbelief, “What?” 

“We could go together. Make the most of it. I mean, I like Swan Lake.” 

“Spencer, it would be wrong to spend what would be my third anniversary with you. I mean–”

“It wouldn’t be the exact day. You said it was a couple of months early, so it would just be us…going to see Swan Lake. Just friends, seeing a ballet, and getting dinner or something. A night on the town. Something to keep your mind off things,” 

He hopes you’ll agree to the offer, his heart beating loudly in his chest as you stare into his eyes. Your eyes dart back and forth, rapidly looking into his eyes and then at his face. The silence is killing him, a knife in his back as he tries his best to breathe normally. 

Then you’re giving him a slow smile, a little shy at first, before you beam at the suggestion, “Okay,” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, let’s go to the ballet together. I mean, I would do it with or without Josh anyway. Now I’ll be able to go with someone who will actually enjoy it, even better.” Your eyes meet his hazel ones again, and you place a tentative hand over his. “Thank you, Spence.” Your voice is sincere, and Spencer feels his body relax when you touch him. 

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my evening two months from now.” He whispers in the air between you before he slips his hand away from yours and stands. He yawns softly, “Now… let’s get some sleep.” 

You nod, a small smile still on your face as you lay on the couch. “Night.” You whisper as you close your eyes. 

Spencer stands and stares down at you a little longer than he should before he takes a step toward his bedroom. “Goodnight,” he says as he walks into his bedroom. He’s thinking about your genuine smile for another hour before he even closes his eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[galedekarios]

I think the reason some Galemancers think the astral scene is the “lesser choice” is because you get 5 extra approval points if you choose the bed scene. Both are good! But that’s what I would think. Also, I believe the astral scene pushes him towards the crown more vs the bed.

thank you for your message, anon, and for trying to explain!

however, i think there's some confusion and (unintentionally, i'm sure) false information here that i'd like very, very much to clear up:

a) approval points

both choices have the exact same approval points attached to them: five in both cases.

astral sea scene:

Player: I'll remind you we're newly acquainted, not newlyweds. Gale: Then we'll start writing the prequel. Gale: What do you say? Player: I think that sounds delightful - but I don't see a bed. ['Gale 5']

old ways scene:

Player: I don't need illusions. I want the Gale standing right in front of me. Gale: Are you sure...? I could conjure up any sight that you could dream of, and a few you could not. I could use the Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning. I could do more than woo you. I could wow you. Player: You don't need to impress me, Gale. I'm no goddess., FEMALE ['Gale 5'] Player: You don't need to impress me, Gale. I'm no god., MALE ['Gale 5'] Player: You don't need to impress me, Gale. I'm no deity. ['Gale 5']

you can net five approval points in the last night alive scene in other ways too:

telling gale you love him:

Player: I'm in love with you too. ['Gale 5']

2. leaning in for a kiss:

Player: Lean in for a kiss. ['Gale 5']

3. gale also doesn't mind if you change your mind during the astral sea scene and want to return to the 'real' world:

Player: It's beautiful, but it's you I want to be with. The man, not the illusion. ['Gale 5'] - Player: I want to be with the real Gale - the man, not the fantasy. ['Gale 5']

these are NOT extra points. you will ONLY get these if you didn't choose the "Player: I think that sounds delightful - but I don't see a bed. ['Gale 5']" option in the same dialogue tree i listed above to follow through to the astral sea scene, but instead return to the "old ways" scene (gale snaps his fingers and the illusion of waterdeep disappears).

4. the friendship version of the scene also allows the player to not five approval points if the player chooses to stay with gale under the stars:

Gale: Yes... but there is so much to live for, and so few moments in which to house it all.Approval_AtLeast_30_For_Sp6 Gale: Damn you. Damn you for giving me so much to care about. Our friends, our adventures... this would have been so much easier if it was just me. But it isn't. Gale: If there is a way - any way - to save all that's grown dear to me, I want to seize it. I just cannot fathom what that might be, other than to fail Mystra and condemn the world. Gale: Stay with me, will you? I don't want to think of it any more, but I don't want to be alone either. Player: Stay with him and watch the stars in silence. ['Gale 5']

the second part i want to address because that is (again, i'm sure it's completely unintentional so no worries, anon, and/or a misconception/misunderstanding) false information:

b) choosing the astral sea scene pushes gale towards the crown

that is completely factually wrong and i felt it was important to clear that up. there is not a singular flag in the entirety of the scene's files that determines pushing gale away or towards godhood, away or towards the crown.

not one.

which makes sense because at that point in time, neither gale nor the protag even know about the crown. it's only at the end of act 2 that you find out about it, and it triggers gale's act 3 choice to pursue the crown (and godhood) or not to.

the only flags set in gale's act 2 romance scene is if you push him towards sacrificing himself or making him understand that he doesn't have to do that and that you'll find another way with him.

i've detailed that in a meta post about those flags.

if you would like to check the file for youself, you need to open "CAMP_GalesLastNightAlive_SD_ROM", which contains gale's act 2 romance scene.

the only other flags that appear in this scene are the following:

ORI_State_Partnered = False / True

ORI_State_DatingGale

CAMP_GalesLastNightAlive_SD_ROM_Event_CollateralDamage = False / True

ORI_Gale_Event_PushTowardsDeath

ORI_Gale_Event_PushAwayFromDeath

as well as the flags for approval (to determine which scene variation you get -> low approval, friendship, romance) and for karlach, as she has special dialogue in this romance scene with gale, depending on whatever or not she got the second upgrade that allows her to be able to touch.

again, my goal here is just to clear up misinformation about the scene. none of the two versions have a disparity in approval or have a 'negative' consequence attached to them in terms of flags.

what i, personally, find interesting and what i would like to add at the end of this post are the devnotes. we don't have that many in this scene, however, gale makes it clear that if you pick the 'old ways' scene - which is, in and of itself, a perfectly valid choice to make btw depending on how you rp your character, and i have two characters myself who have different ways of doing this scene - the devnote makes it very clear that gale is bowing to the player's preference.

it's not his wish. it's the player's wish.

and it's a wish that he respects to the utmost:

Player: It's beautiful, but its you I want to be with. The man, not the illusion. Gale: The old ways then. If that is what you wish, so be it. devnote: Tactful, bowing to the player's desires Gale: A small gesture towards your comfort.

all in all, i think personal preference is something else entirely, but i do think - looking at everything i've laid out here - it's very sad to see one scene painted as the 'lesser' for reasons that are factually wrong.

if ppl are interested to read a post taking on a more favourable reading of the astral sea version of gale's act 2 romance scene and want to understand why some people might prefer it, i'd greatly recommend this meta by @clericofgale. i've also talked about my own feelings (this is my personal opinion) in the tags of this post:

#i've spoken about this already but the amount of times i had to read derisive takes on the astral sea scene #because people think that making gale understand that he is more than his magic #is the same as separating him entirely from it #it does him a great disservice when it's such a great part of his life #you are romancing a wizard and a wizard comes with magic #i think it's also important to note that gale believes this is his quite possibly last night #the scene is literally titled that in the files: 'last night alive' #it's not a show it's love and acceptance and vulnerability #he is trying to share what he can and as much as he can with the person he loves in what little time may be left to him #he shows you his home and bares his soul to you in hopes you'll accept him in his entirety for who he is and the things he holds dear #when you deny him he acquiesces but he is doing so on your wishes and your comfort alone - not for his

again, thank you for your message, anon! 🖤

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

illicit affairs

the one where Joel doesn't call

Summary: After making peace with Joel's decision not to get in touch with you, you move on with your life and meet your new neighbour and his friends.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, angst, fluff, some heartbreak

A/N: Pick your own ending part two. feat Frankie Morales

illicit affairs master list // Pedro Masterlist

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If was three weeks after you were back from Austin that you realised that Joel would not call. That he did not want to be there for you and most importantly for his daughter. You were talking almost daily to your brother and mother. 

So you knew that he had broken up with your mother and gone Mia almost immediately. 

More than once your finger hovered over the call button over the number your best friend had found online of his construction company. 

You were dying to just yell at him. 

Yell at him for breaking your heart. 

Yell at him for breaking your mothers heart.

Yell at him for being a coward and leaving you without a word. 

Yell at him for leaving you to carry all the consequences of one weekend full of sex.

Because that was what this was to him, wasn’t it? 

But what good would that do?

It wouldn’t help you in the end. And frankly you were scared of how he would react if you cornered him. If you got him on the phone in the first place. 

He obviously did not see you that more than a nice fuck, so you let yourself wallow in your heartbreak for some days more before you decided that it was time to move on with your life. 

Your life would change in a matter of months and you were nowhere close to being prepared. 

All your friends in Seattle cleared their whole weekend when you finally found your dream apartment. You spend the whole day painting and building the nursery with your best friend while all your other friend carried your furniture and emptied your boxes full of belongings. 

It was when you took a snack break and sat down on your new sofa to eat that you noticed a couple of faces you hadn’t seen before, helping to set up your new dining table.

It was the day you met Frankie.

——

„Are you sure they are not gonna be mad?“ Frankie’s arm was wrapped around your waist as you walked down the aisle, searching for ice cream. 

„That’s what the ice cream is for,“ you teased and he chuckled before he kissed you. 

A squeal came from your daughter who was in her seat in the shopping cart. Her wide brown eyes looking around in wonder. 

Frankie tickled her belly and she laughed loudly, a couple of people turning their heads towards her joyful laugh.

She was already so big at only seven months old. 

Frankie smiled at you and it still was like your breath hitched every time you looked at him. 

After you moved into your new apartment right across from Frankie’s you started hanging out together. You were both new to the neighbourhood, and while you still had your friends near by, Frankie’s friends (who had been the other three guys in your apartment, helping to set things up) had left his place and Seattle shortly after to get back to their lives. 

It started with you inviting yourself over to dinner when you were positively drooling at the scents coming from his apartment on a daily basis. 

He would tell you about his mother teaching him how to cook when he grew up. 

You went to get groceries together weekly, him helping you carry them, insisting that you had to take it easy, your belly getting bigger by day. 

He was there at night, when you couldn’t sleep because your back hurt. 

He had been there, when your baby moved for the first time. 

He had been there when you were so horny after he kissed you for the first time, you had spend all night desperately seeking pleasure only he could gave you in the end.

And slowly over the months leading up to your due date, you fell in love with each other. 

He had been there with you when your water broke, held your hand while you were in labour, witnessed your daughters first breath and cry, tears in his eyes. 

He was the father to her, you had only dreamed about. 

Your mother absolutely adored him and your brother was jealous. Mostly because Frankie was straight and he was absolutely in love with you. 

You visited Austin regularly. 

And you never told your mother the full story of how you ended up pregnant.

Your mother still asked you occasionally if you’re sure you did not want to move back, but Seattle was now home. Frankie’s best friend Santiago would move to Seattle in the next year and Frankie and you had just bought your first house. It was a fixer upper. It would take some time for it to be finished, but you were absolutely in love with the vision Frankie had for the place. 

You caught the ring on his finger, the ring you put there last week. 

It had been a small wedding. Just your closest friends and a dinner after at your favourite Pizza place. 

He had asked you to marry him on the anniversary of your first meeting and you had said yes without one doubt in your mind. 

That you found an open date at the courthouse for the week after, after jokingly checking for the next date had been a pure accident. 

You both made the decision to just take the date. 

You wanted to be married to him. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. 

At the courthouse you also filed the documents for him to officially adopt your daughter. 

He was the dad you always imagined for her in everything but paper.

But that was only a matter of time now. 

Frankie caught you looking at his ring, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he smiled. He took your hand, his thumb rubbing over your finger before he leaned down and kissed you softly. 

You were in Austin to tell your family in person that you eloped and were married, hoping they wouldn’t be too annoyed with not being invited.

You wanted to shout it from the rooftops, you were so disgustingly happy and in love. 

When you parted from his lips you smiled as you turned your head, looking for the favourite flavour of your mothers ice cream. 

You saw him then. 

Out of the corner from your eyes. 

Joel.

He was starring at you, surprise written clear on his face. 

Frankie was back to entertaining your daughter and Joel’s eyes dropped to the baby giggling up at your husband. 

You could not read Joel’s expression, but when he made an attempt to come closer you shook your head at him. He blinked, stopping right away. 

„We gotta get ice cream for grandma, so she doesn’t kill your dada because he married your mama without telling her,“ Frankie said in a baby voice and you broke away from Joel’s gaze looking at your daughter. She was grabbing Frankie’s finger, her tongue out, a wide smile on her face. 

„No one is killing anyone,“ you said, closing your eyes and letting your head drop against Frankie’s shoulder. 

„You okay?“ He asked. He looked in the direction Joel was still standing, meeting the man’s eyes, having noticed you tense up. 

You took his hand, nodding your head and Frankie looked back at you, checking in. 

„I’m perfectly okay,“ you said with a smile before you kissed him softly, letting him pull you away to look for the ice cream you came here for in the first place. 

[presidentofthelipglossclub]

GUESS WHO'S BIRTHDAY IT IS!!

in honor of my birthday here are some more rescue bots headcanons!!

they (as in constructed rescue bots) have extra color receptors which allows them to see more types of light than other bots, as well as advanced hearing (they’re also the only bots with noses so they have an extra sense)

all of them have outliers (its a requirement to be a rescue bot)

blurr changed his paint job (post s4, before he showed up in rid15) because heatwave and blades basically bullied him into it

the academy where they studied was on a moon of cybertron’s, and they actually spent very little time on cybertron itself. it was sorta like a field trip spot, and they went very infrequently

quickshadow was the academy's champion shot, and she won a bunch of competitions

the rescue bots all had specialties outside of what they actually did (heatwave was a history nerd, boulder studied xenobiology, blades took journalism, chase did psychology, quickshadow was a data analyst, hightide took astronomy)

hightide was actually friends with both orion pax and megatronus separately before they realized they all knew each other

in that same vein, servo and lazerbeak were longtime friends because they grew up together

optimus is so ridiculously tolerant towards whatever the rescue bots do that they actually have a running bet on how much they can get away with before optimus gets angry (he never once has)

blurr's reputation as most annoying bot ever has been intact since way before the war when he was a racer

blades got his name through an awkward mishap at an armory that heatwave never let him live down

related to that, all the rescue bots' "names" are really more of nicknames. their names are listed on documents but their primary identification is through serial numbers because they're cold constructs

boulder had a practically bullet proof reputation at the academy as the perfect student so whenever the others wanted to get away with something they always involved him

when salvage heard about DIY's he got super into them and started making tons of pointless stuff. he never even followed the good channels, only stuff like troom troom

chase succumbs to peer pressure ridiculously easy

heatwave gives really good advice but only on accident

quickshadow and hightide like to hang out and trash talk optimus whenever he does something they don't like

blades only has field medicine training, he's not cleared for any actual treatment outside of an emergency (he can do first aid and EMT stuff but can't, like, prescribe things or do surgery). this has not stopped him from trying things though.

salvage is actually from one of cybertron's colony worlds, but he grew up on cybertron

ok here's a fun little surprise in honor of my birthday: the humans are also included in headcanons!!

kade was actually very good at gymnastics, he just got bored of it

chief burns needs glasses but he prefers to wear contacts

dani had a very extreme scene core phase, and her hairstyle is a remnant of that

frankie has super high government security clearance as a super genius and daughter of one of the world's best scientists, so she knows all kinds of military secrets

doc greene and chief burns met in childhood, doc's family moved away, and then when he got older he moved back to griffin rock and reunited with the chief

graham is the biggest night owl because of college. sometimes, when he has trouble falling asleep, the bots invite him to movie night and they all watch reruns of old movies or shows

building off that, there are two kinds of movie night: the first is with the whole burns family, rescue team, and sometimes others such as optimus or the greenes. the second is less of a movie night and more of a "we need something to do while the humans are sleeping, let's watch trashy tv all night." this kind of movie night is really just the bots (minus whoever has night shift)

professor baranova actually used to be pretty upbeat, although she was a bit misunderstood because she's neurodivergent (i also headcanon that after the whole living underwater for 28 years thing she developed DID and multiple alters to cope with the loneliness, so she's now a system)

woodrow and optimus are in a qpr. optimus refers to him as his amica, and also privately thinks of him as his human partner

doc greene at some point developed a working synthetic energon formula completely independently. when ratchet first met him (post war, probably right before he was hired to work at the rescue academy) and learned about this he lost his shit

bumblebee and dani race together all the time when he visits

this is where i'm gonna stop this post, because it's pretty late for me lol. it was my birthday today, so happy birthday to me!!

also y'all PLEASE talk to me abt any of these headcanons i will be thrilled to elaborate!

[ozmatippetarius]

I've been seeing various misinformation regarding the ages of The Secret History characters, so thought it was worth a post clarifying.

Ages and school years are as follows, with citations from the text listed under the cut.

Bunny: Third year, 24 at death (not clear if he was 24 at start of year or turned 24 during the school year)

Henry: Third year, 20/21 (birthday before Bunny's death)

Francis: Third year, 20/21 (birthday before Bunny's death)

Richard: Third year, 20/21 (birthday is after Bunny's death, specifically February)

Charles and Camilla: Second year, 19/20 (birthday before Bunny's death)

Also, just an interesting point, but the American drinking age was changed from 18 to 21 in 1984, so if the story were set just a few years later things might have played out differently- at least they wouldn't be getting blasted quite so publicly.

Evidence:

Richard studies pre-med in his hometown for two years before transferring. This means he is in his third year of college when he transfers. This is stated in the very first chapter.

After high school I went to a small college in my home town (my parents were opposed, as it had been made very plain that I was expected to help my father run his business, one of the many reasons I was in such an agony to escape) and, during my two years there, I studied ancient Greek. This was due to no love for the language but because I was majoring in pre-med (money, you see, was the only way to improve my fortunes, doctors make a lot of money, quod erat demonstrandum) and my counselor had suggested I take a language to fulfill the humanities requirement; and, since the Greek classes happened to meet in the afternoon, I took Greek so I could sleep late on Mondays.

At the time of Bunny's death, the character's ages are stated to be as follows.

“Twenty-four?” I said, startled. The twins and I were twenty years old, and Henry and Francis were twenty-one.

The twins are stated to be a year below Francis.

He said, after a pause: “It hasn’t happened often. Three or four times. The first time when I was a sophomore and he was a freshman.

Henry's birthday passes before Bunny's death.

What should I tell you? About the Saturday in December that Bunny ran around the house at five in the morning, yelling “First snow!” and pouncing on our beds? Or the time Camilla tried to teach me the box step; or the time Bunny turned the boat over—with Henry and Francis in it—because he thought he saw a water snake? About Henry’s birthday party, or about the two instances when Francis’s mother—all red hair and alligator pumps and emeralds—turned up on her way to New York, trailing the Yorkshire terrier and the second husband?

Francis isn't a fourth-year, as he was expecting to come back to school for another year before everything fell apart.

Francis didn’t come back to school that fall.

Richard's birthday is in February.

In February, a card on my birthday—conspicuously lacking in news of Charles.

[meimi-haneoka]

༻✦༺ Welcome! ༻✦༺

Last update January 1st, 2025

Hello and welcome to my main blog, my little home where I share my love for Cardcaptor Sakura and CLAMP works to the world! ✨

I'm Cinzia, she/her, Italian. Aged in a barrel of hyperfixations and daydreams. You might wonder, why this blog url if this is mainly a CCS blog? Well, when I opened this blog more than 10 years ago I was heavily focused on Kaitou Saint Tail, but when I started posting more and more about CCS, at some point I realized it was too late to change url or all the links to the posts I had shared around would become broken.

Regardless! I have closely followed the serialization of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card ever since it began and my monthly commentary became something more when I realized the official English translation wasn't doing justice (to use an euphemism) to the original Japanese version. My friends and other fans in general were left confused and misguided by the countless translation mistakes (some to the point of changing the plot), so I started pointing them out in my monthly posts.

I also post other kind of stuff, like reports of CLAMP Spaces when they talk about CCS, or long time ago I posted summaries of interviews with the staff of the Clear Card anime. I plan to eventually translate those fully, considering my skills with Japanese language improved since then. But please remember that "English is not my first language" etc etc., so if some sentences sound weird, you already know why. Now that the manga is over, I post with irregular schedule some in-depth analysis and trivia about the story, examining one topic at a time. Despite being a CLAMP fan and loving other stories as well, I chose to focus on and dedicate myself to CCS in particular, due to time and limited mental resources. Thinking about following me? That's great, thank you! ✨ But if there's an idiom I love, it's "good fences make good neighbours", so please make sure to understand what kind of blog you're about to follow. I consider this my fandom home so additionally to those posts I mentioned above, I also unapologetically post about the ships I love. I love to analyze, I like to theorize. I don't disguise, I don't tiptoe.

I am a CCS fan born in SyaoSaku, and reborn with YunaAki, with currently a preference for the latter ones. If you're curious to know what my POV on this pairing is, you can get a very clear idea looking at my #yunaaki and #cosmos & crystals hashtags . If for any reason that's not ok with you, you're absolutely free to unfollow or even block me. In fact, I encourage you to do so. I'm here on this site to enjoy what I like, not to make anyone miserable. Unkind asks will be ignored; attempts to "lecture me" about what is acceptable and what not, what I can like and what not will probably be laughed at (I'm old for this stuff, it doesn't work with me). On the contrary, if you like YunaAki too, you'll be more than welcome here! Send me a message to share our headcanons! ✨

Now that we've cleared that up, here you can find the real reason why I wanted to make this new introductory pinned post: a convenient list with links to all my relevant posts, organized by category! I will update this list as I add new posts, so always check the date at the top for new additions! 👍

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card: commentary + translation differences

(started at chapter 41 because that's when I got access to ENG scans) Collected under the hashtag #translation differences . The first posts might be a bit overzealous, as I was getting the hang of it. TBA: I have a bigger project for this in the works, an easier way to browse through all the relevant translation differences, divided by chapters and volumes, starting by chapter 1 (even marked by severity).

41 || 42 || 43 || 44 || 45 || 46 || 47 || 48 || 49 || 50 || 51 || 52 || 53 || 54 || 55 || 56 || 57 || 58 || 59 || 60 || 61 || 62 || 63 || 64 || 65 || 66 || 67 || 68 || 69 || 70 || 71 || 72 || 73 || 74 || 75 || 76 || 77 || 78 || 79 || 80 || Epilogue || Short stories 01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05 ||

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Trivia series

All about Clear Card, from the most mundane trivia to the deepest thematics presented in it. Collected under the hashtag #clear card trivia .

Clear Card Trivia 1 ~ Literary and musical references/mentions in Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card

Clear Card Trivia 2 ~ Alice in Clockland and its meaning in Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card

Clear Card Trivia 3 ~ Sakura's journey of growth and self-understanding throughout Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card

Clear Card Trivia 4 ~ The most ancient Magicians of Europe, the Magic Association and their role in Clear Card

Clear Card Trivia 5 ~ Real life models of buildings featured in Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Timeline

An easy-to-read timeline of the events and facts depicted in Clear Card, placed correctly in chronological order inside the bigger Cardcaptor Sakura story.

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Timeline

English translations of short stories and Drama CDs

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card BD vol. 8 one shot

Card Captor Sakura Clear Card Arc - Drama CD part 1

Card Captor Sakura Clear Card Arc - Drama CD part 2

Clear Card manga volume 10 Special Edition bonus - Mini Book

Sakura & Syaoran parallels in CCS and TRC

Discontinued, even though I know there are more. Who knows, maybe one day I'll continue it! Collected under the hashtag #syaosaku parallels .

1 ~Hands~ || 2 ~Pinky Promises~ || 3 ~Hugs~ || 4 ~”Tell me”~ || 5 ~Desperate hug~ || 6 ~Scream and shout~

CLAMP Space & Kanbukai reports

Reports and in some cases translation of entire chunks of conversation from CLAMP Spaces on Twitter and from their official podcast ("CLAMP's Board of Directors"). These are all the bits relative to CCS/Clear Card and there's lots of insights/production process tidbits on Clear Card.

July 30th, 2021 || September 5th, 2021 || March 27th, 2022 || April 4th, 2022 || August 7th, 2022 || October 24th, 2022 || November 8th, 2022 || December 28th, 2022 || January 4th, 2023 || May 5th, 2023 || January 8th, 2024 || January 30th, 2024 || April 1st, 2024 || December 31st, 2024 🆕||

Interviews with the Clear Card anime staff and cast

Highlights and recaps of the interviews released during the period of broadcasting of the Clear Card anime. If you want to know what kind of feelings and ideas Clear Card was made with, as well as the origin of the 25th anniversary project (which turned into Clear Card), check these out. I plan to translate these entirely, so this list is only temporary, waiting for the complete interviews.

Interview with CCS Clear Card producer Chiyo Kawazoe in Animage 12/2017

Morio Asaka x Sakura Tange interview in Newtype 05/2018

Highlights of Morio Asaka’s interview in the Starter Book

Interview with Yukana (Meiling’s VA) in Animage 06/2018

Interview with Sakura Tange and Motoko Kumai in Animage 07/2018

Interview with Sho Saito (Nakayoshi editor) and Nozomi Matsuura (CCS copyrights manager) in Animedia 07/2023 (full interview)

Other random stuff collected under hashtags:

My fanarts

My fics for YunaAki (on my new blog)

Enjoy your stay! ✨

[booksandabeer]

Stucky Recs: Road Trips!

Well, well, well. Look at that! After only three months of constant whining about having no time to do it, I've finally managed to put together a new rec list! Yay.

The theme of this list was requested by multiple people and really, who doesn't love a good road trip story, right? And let me tell you, there are so many good ones, this post could've been twice as long. I'm actually already hoarding fics in my little folder to do a part two later this year.

But for now, please enjoy my effusive ramblings about the following 10 Road Trip fics + 1 Rail Trip fic:

🚗 you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all by biblionerd07 | T, 15K

Author's summary: Steve and Bucky aren't really much of a Steve and Bucky anymore these days. Steve's sure it's because Bucky doesn't see himself as the same guy who used to love Steve. In a desperate attempt to prove him wrong, Steve begs Bucky to go on a road trip together, the way they used to dream about, and does his best to remind Bucky of who he is.

A post-CW canon divergent fic that's in a lot of ways very soft, but with just enough of an edge to keep things interesting and the reader uncertain as to how everything will play out in it. This starts with a somewhat disaffected Bucky who has not (yet) regained all of his memories and a Steve who, in his desperation to reconnect with him, tries so hard but ends up saying and doing all the wrong things. As they travel around the country, they both find ways to let go and to unlearn and relearn each other. Features moments of heart melting yet tongue-in-cheek sappiness (so the absolute best kind of sappiness) and a fun background Sam/T'Challa pairing.

🚗 a black sky prickled with small lights by emilywithoutY | M, 26K

Author's summary: There's this: The July heat. A wide open road. An obnoxious country song on the radio. Bucky in the driver’s seat.

Or: Two hundred-year-old men and their Great American Road Trip

The ultimate, unashamed Steve-and-Bucky-visit-the-Grand-Canyon wish-fulfillment fantasy—and I mean that in the best possible way. The summer road trip vibes are impeccable. This is technically the third part in the Litanies series, but it absolutely works as a standalone. However, if you ask me whether you should read the entire series, the answer is obviously a resounding yes. It's not only one of the best EG-Fix-Its I've read but also comes with an additional fun and sexy twist on how to get these two to finally get their heads out of their asses. Anyway, in this installment, they have already done that and now they get to enjoy the road, their freedom, and most of all, each other. Includes: healing along the way, long overdue conversations, and the attempt to reconcile the joy of finally having all that time with the bittersweet reality of having all that time.

🚗 Blue Moon by what_alchemy | E, 15K

Author's summary: "Now are you gonna run away with me or not, Rogers?”

God, this story (this author, really)! I’ve read this fic so many times I’ve lost count. It features one of my favorite post-WS characterizations of Bucky. One where he's still—somehow after everything—a romantic at heart, but also clear-eyed and unsentimental enough about certain things to not shy away from laying out some uncomfortable truths for Steve and the reader alike (there’s one line in particular that is seared into my brain and every time I read it I personally feel so called out). Steve may be a bit more cautious and softer about it, but oh, he gives back just as good. Nobody is handling anyone with kid gloves here. A story about learning how to be together (again), defining one's very own version of 'Happy Ever After', and about being very much in love, and also very horny for each other.

🚗 Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) by dorian_burberrycanary | E, 20K

Author's summary: Steve has never felt right running away from a fight, even if the fight is with unanswered questions. But it’s not running if it’s a road trip and the oldest, thorniest unanswered question is along for the ride.

If you follow my blog you will probably already know that I am head over heels in love with this entire EG-Fix-It Series. This third story is finished, but Steve & Bucky's road trip continues in part 4, which is currently being posted (updates weekly). I believe this fic can be read as a standalone but, really, why would you deprive yourself of even a single word of this absolutely magnificent series? Every word, every detail, every narrative choice feels deliberate and well thought out. It's a masterclass in subtle storytelling and yet so rich in its themes, characterizations and descriptions of people, places, and food. This fic will make you hungry in so many different ways. A lot happens between the lines which may require some patience at times, but when the emotional payoff hits—it really, really hits. I cannot recommend this enough. Spectacular all around.

🚗 where the days are longer by endofadream | E, 13K

Author's summary: And maybe that’s what they’re running from. Those ghosts. That minefield. The suffocating pressure to live up to who they used to be when who they used to be has now become stale, recycled words in textbooks and museums and clickbait online articles.

They fuck off to the coast, trying to put as many miles between them and D.C. as possible. New York is loud and claustrophobic at the best of times, but California has the open skies and roads that make Steve ease a little more into his skin.

I have such an immense fondness for this story. There are some very minor problems with shifting POV in the first chapter, but please don't let this deter you from giving this story a chance—it's got so much heart. This is a slow and meandering piece that can be best summed up as: Steve and Bucky being so very much in love. Set in some undefined period post-CATWS, in a world where the events of Civil War never happened, Steve and Bucky decide they’re tired of fighting and conforming to what everyone else wants them to be and just get in a car and drive all the way to California. There, they start figuring out how to live in the future while also accepting that they can never quite leave the past behind, and that time, indifferent to the tragedies of (not quite) mortal men, will inevitably keep marching on—whether they want it to or not. To quote directly from the story itself: They’re both men out of time, so they make their own.

🚗 Lightning in a Bottle by odetteandodile | E, 63K

Author's summary: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking.The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction…

Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride. It gets more complicated from there. 

This AU offers an intriguing twist on the The Road Trip as a genre, Shrunkyclunks as a trope, and modern!Bucky as a character—it's an electric ride from start to finish—in more ways than one… *wiggles eyebrows* ...yeah ok, I’ll see myself out. It was either this or something about 'chasing all kinds of storms together' and I just couldn’t resist. Anyway, this story is a clever and unique take on canon events (not just limited to the CA movies!) and I don’t really want to give too much away and spoil all the fun, so I’ll just say this: If you are in the mood for a thrilling sci-fi/adventure/romance hybrid-story with beautiful evocative writing, characters that actually act like the smart, competent grown-ups they supposedly are, sex scenes that are both hot and emotional, and a touch of spy/mission fic to go along with a free crash course in weather phenomena—this is the fic for you!  

🚗 The Only Familiar Thing by brideofquiet | E, 39K

Author's summary: Steve takes a breath, steels himself, and asks, “Where are we going, Buck?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one driving, Steve.”

And before Steve can protest, Bucky gives him that broad, toothy grin again. The worry pitted in his stomach ebbs, and he decides—what the hell? Why not? Steve pulls his helmet on and swings a leg over the bike. Bucky settles in behind him, and he cranks the engine to life.

A Post-CATWS fic, in which Bucky has returned to Steve after being on the run for a while. They are together, share an apartment in Brooklyn, and Bucky has regained most of his memories—so yay! All good, right? Well, things are going…uh...let's say they're going. See, Steve and Bucky are still very much in love—the thing is, they're pretty good at the being in love part but pretty awful at the talking about it (and everything else that matters) part. So much so that they accidentally on purpose non-communicate and out-stubborn each other into going on a road trip, where things will eventually—inevitably—come to a head. Throughout the trip, the tension between them builds and builds until finally they have to admit that sometimes being partners, lovers, best friends, and knowing someone better than anybody else in the world, still doesn't mean that you can *actually* read their mind. Sometimes you gotta use your words. The author skillfully manages to create a story that treats its characters and their conflict seriously, while also infusing it with a healthy dose of humor and romance to always keep the readers on the right side of 'frustrated' (i. e. invested, not irritated).

🚗 old college try by kafkian | E, 19K

Author's summary: Bucky wonders if it’ll ever stop feeling like stealing: Steve Rogers, Captain America, the hope of a nation tucked into Bucky’s right hand. It’s the heist of the century.

In which Bucky Barnes remembers himself, Steve, and what it means to be selfish – not necessarily in that order.

Another old favorite of mine. Set post-CACW, this fic starts with a recently defrosted Bucky and a somewhat unmoored Steve in Wakanda, as they try to figure out what to do next: Keep fighting the never-ending wars of other people or run away, see the world, and retire to a quiet life? Well, since this is a road trip fic, I think you can guess which option they go for. It's a beautifully written story about Steve and Bucky's journey across continents and decades, and their ultimate arrival in a life that they never dared to hope they could have one day. This was written in 2016, so right between the fanfic avalanche caused by TWS and the frenzy of EG-Fix-Its. Re-reading this for the first time in quite a while made me realize that—aside from being a fantastic story in its own right—it's also an interesting commentary on popular Stucky fics that came before it (you can see clear influences but also some gentle rebuttals to popular fanon of the time) as well as very much a product of its time. And I don't mean that in a negative or disrespectful way at all, but simply, that it also serves as a fandom artifact; a text that reveals and reacts to certain trends, shifting attitudes, and developments in Stucky fanfiction over the years. Either way it's definitely well worth a read.

🚗 The Long Way: A Stucky Fancomic by BeaArthurPendragon, LittleWolf82 | T

Authors' summary: After Thanos is defeated, Steve doesn't stay in the past. This is the story of where he and Bucky go next.

A little something different here: a road trip fancomic! And oh, it's only one of my favorite fic writers teaming up with one of my favorite artists—what's not to love? This is an EG-Fix-It that simply ignores the last five minutes that Ruined It All and instead tells the story of what could've or should've happened to Steve and Bucky after EG. A story that is infinitely kinder and truer to these characters. Sweetly told and beautifully drawn—an absolutely wonderful collaboration.

🚗 i need a forest fire by tomorrowsrain | T, 65K

Author's summary: In which Tony Stark makes a reckless decision, becomes a wanted fugitive, goes on the run with the former Winter Soldier, and learns how to forgive. For his part, Bucky Barnes is just trying to hold himself together. AU, post-Civil War.

This is the only fic on this rec list that does not have Bucky and Steve going on a journey but instead it's Bucky and...Tony. WAIT! Hey, come back! I know that for a lot of Steve and/or Bucky fans the idea of reading a 65K fic that heavily features Tony Stark does not really sound like an enticing prospect. BUT! Hear me out. This is a fic that runs with one of the core concepts of fix-it fanfiction, which is: What if these characters actually talked to each other for a change? And yes, it gets messy and complicated and often painful—nothing is glossed over and no one is let off the hook easy. What you get here is a fantastically written story that is simultaneously an intimate & slow character study of both Bucky and Tony, a grand sweeping road trip fic with a thrilling plot that will have you on the edge of your seat (there is a moment in this where I really thought it was all over), AND a decade spanning tale of epic love. If you're worried that there is too little Stucky or Steve in this, don't be. Even before he shows up around the halfway mark of the fic, Steve is very much present the entire time. It's incredible what the author pulls off here. This is one of my all-time favorite fics. I love it a totally not normal amount.

🚂 Will There be Any Freight Trains in Heaven? by phoenixflight | E, 56K

Author's summary: It's summer of 1934, a quarter of all Americans are unemployed, and record numbers of migrant workers are hopping freight trains to seek their fortune out west. What are two boys from Brooklyn to do?

Or, Steve and Bucky ride the rails, become socialists, and fall in love, in no particular order.

This story is a bit of an outlier on this list because not only is it the only fic that's set in the pre-war period, it's also not strictly a road trip fic, but a rail trip fic. Usually the road trips in these stories are either (1) a last ditch effort at saving a friendship/relationship, (2) a way of finding oneself and/or making peace with one's past, or (3) the 'we survived all this and here we are together in the future, so let's go and actually see some of that world we fought so hard to save' victory lap. The impetus for travel in this fic, however, is born out of sheer necessity. It's the height of the Great Depression and Steve and Bucky are really poor and really desperate—so desperate even that they're willing to leave behind Brooklyn, their families, and their lives as they know it to go look for work in the West. This is not a fic that's always easy to read, circumstances are dire, attitudes are, ahem, authentic to the period, and the nostalgia-tinted glasses about the good old days before the war will get firmly knocked off your face. It's also a story that will show you time and time again that sometimes you will find kindness, love and almost overwhelming humanity in the places you least expect it. And listen, if period accuracy and a very political Steve Rogers do not convince you, let me tell you that there's also a lot of pining in this. So. Much. Pining.

Ok. This was fun.

Next up: Short fics under 10K

[plusultraetc]

Fic Writer Interview

Thank you so much @starlightbelle for tagging me!! If there are any One Piece fans following this blog, I highly recommend Belle's fics!

-- How many works do you have on AO3?

Officially I have 18, but it's 19 if you include the Star Wars au (my beloved). I haven't taken it out of the anonymous collection yet because I promised myself I would only do so when I posted the second chapter, but I still count it in my head!

-- What's your total AO3 word count?

95,613 :') I know that's nothing compared to some writers, but I am unreasonably pleased with it. I'm wondering if I should do something fun when I break 100k, which should hopefully be soon with chapter 2 of 'now i'm glad i get forever' 🤞

-- What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

there's no good tricks but old ones

i'll take what i can get, i'll take what i am given

you've got no fear of the underdog

write me a list of how it is

every battle, every day

-- Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!! I'm a smidge behind on literally everything this month, but I eventually respond to them all <3 I really do appreciate every single comment, they literally make my entire week and sometimes it takes me so long to reply because I am editing my response four hundred times to take out all of the !!!s.

(I also love getting to talk to others in the fandom, even if it's just for a single exchange--MHA is actually the Most Involved I've ever been in a fandom, and I've met so many really cool people by commenting and replying to comments on fics!! Thank you ao3 comments section, I love you ao3 comments section.)

-- What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm this is tough bc I don't write a lot of angsty endings, and most of my fics are canon compliant anyway so the angst is relative? With this in mind, it's probably 'there's no good tricks but old ones'--it's one of my only fics where there isn't some kind of emotional breakthrough or connection reached (or even the start of one) and it's pre-Paranormal Liberation War arc so we all know Hawks is headed for A Really Bad Time 😬

-- What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

All of them,, but I did write about Shinsou finding out he'd been accepted into the hero course in 'every battle, every day' which might take the cake (Brian from TAZ voice I'm so proud of them etc)

-- Do you write crossovers?

Do crossovers have to include characters from another media? Bc I've written aus set in other universes, but none of the characters from them appear 🤔

-- Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully no! I did once receive a comment that was just like. A Statement with no tonal indicators, In All Caps, but I'm 99% sure it was meant to be taken positively. okay 98% sure.

-- Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope! (I also don't read E-rated fics even though I get so many interesting looking recommendations with that rating 😭 If you've ever recommended me an E-rated fic and I just never brought it up again I'M SORRY)

-- Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of?

-- Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also no!

-- Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I think it would be fun :D

-- What's your all-time favorite ship?

It feels like cheating to say erasermic on the MHA blog, but like. I'm going to say erasermic on the MHA blog. I don't think I'd ever written anything for a ship in my life before them. To be loved is to be changed but to have a ship is also to be changed.

-- What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Never say never but rip time travel fic lol.

-- What are your writing strengths?

IF I SAY SOMETHING YOU DISAGREE WITH LOOK AWAY. But. I think I write good dialogue, especially banter, and that I am occasionally funny. I also think I'm pretty good at describing places, but only if I have a clear mental image of them, so I feel like you can always tell when I'm not sure what a room looks like (which is most of the time).

-- What are your writing weaknesses?

Second-guessing and self-doubting myself into genuine writing paralysis. Also internal monologue/narration, like a character thinking about and articulating their feelings :')

-- What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm a little confused about this question?? But I also only speak one language fluently so I can't do this anyway 😭

-- What was the first fandom you wrote for?

When my sister and I were kids we used to pick our favorite characters from a bunch of different movies/books/shows and tell stories about them all going on some kind of gigantic crossover adventure, so it was probably something along the lines of 'Scooby-Doo, Batman, and Jedidiah from Night at the Museum vs Firelord Ozai'

-- What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I have a few Demon Slayer WIPs I'd love to figure out one day!

-- What's your favorite fic you've written?

This question is so hard bc like. Does it mean my favorite fic while I was working on it, or my favorite result? The fic that was easiest to write, or most difficult but most worth it?? The fic I've reread the most, or the fic I'm afraid to reread in case it doesn't live up to the memory I have of it??? Can I do a top 3????

This was so much fun!! (even though it did give me several small crises staring at my stats page--run 'i'll take what i can get, i'll take what i am given,' 'there's no good tricks but old ones' is right behind you!!) No-pressure tagging @machiroads @blinkeasy @kyurilin @karliahs @poppy5991 @ifyougoillfollow and anyone else who sees this & wants to participate!! I was scrolling through my following tab but omg it's a long list so I def missed some writers 😭

[mekachu04]

12. Love Language

Kidd - 6! | Killer - 9

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Kidd grew up speaking Gàidhlig

Killer understood som but didn't speak it often

Killer never knew Kidd's name

it's has been forgotten by now

there was coup in the area last summer/fall

Kidd used to have a family

they will come back up later

Kidd turns 6

they've known each other over a year by now

dropping in some Scottish traditions in because I can

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

The charm Killer had as a small child - the one that set adults at ease and gave him sympathy candies or coins - hadn't followed him into the reign of the newest City Boss. The men and woman who'd fed him if he gave them sad looks and batted his eye lashes were rotting in the bottom of the bay, and the ones who did give him a second glance these days had hands that lingered too long. Worse - those men seemed to want him to bring the kid around too and Killer would do a lot for a hot meal, but not at the kid's expense.

Killer had tried to do right by the kid - tried to take him to the adults for care, but no one wanted another little boy - another mouth to feed and still too small to do work in compensation. Killer knew that rejection intimately, tried not to let Eustass' sunshine boy see him crying hot bitter tears at the unfairness of the whole ordeal. The factories would scoop up the little girls, tuck them away in their brick boarding houses... but no one wanted the boys. Not until they were big enough and old enough to fight and bleed for them.

Killer had finally gotten big enough to belong to that, but with his last Boss and his men slaughtered, he had to keep his head down and stay quiet unless someone realized he was missed in the coup. This last turf war had him starting back over a square one again, only this time with the responsibility of someone else. And Killer couldn't bring himself to leave the boy behind; he'd been a part of the wooden port side of the city as long as he could remember. The dock men his only family, the innkeepers for the transients the only parental care he'd known. Eustass had been a hard-ass, but his old lady and the cook had regularly welcomed him in on cold and stormy nights, even when he didn't have a coin to his name. Even before he had a name!

Last winter, 10 days after First-Foot, Eustass himself had cornered Killer at the docks, handed him a soft ball wrapped in shiny paper, and told him under no uncertain terms was he to open it, and instead bring it to the Tavern right at sundown. At that point, Killer had been delivering all sorts of things he wasn't allowed to look at to all sorts of people he wasn't allow to talk to, and had held his free hand out demanding coin for the job. Eustass had smacked him upside the head and told him not to be greedy.

Well - Killer knew where to find the miserable old man if he didn't pay up in the end at least.

10 days into the new year, Killer entered Eustass' Tavern & Inn through the front door for the first time. Payday was 4 nights ago (9 more until the next one) and the Tavern was quiet, a sign posted on the door that he couldn't actually read - he wasn't a strong reader to start with, and it was far too long for him to puzzle out, but he did know that one of the words meant closed - which just confused him further. But Eustass had given him clear instructions, and the door had not been locked, so Killer let himself in.

He was expecting some kind of nefarious Boss meeting - he'd delivered to those quite a few times, Killer just didn't know Eustass was involved in that scene. Instead, he found the lights mostly dimmed, voices chatting away towards the kitchen.

Before he could call out, Mòr Mhàthair, the Matron of the business herself, peaked around the corner. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone brighten so much at seeing him of all people, and he turned to make sure someone else hadn't followed him in. No.. No the woman was smiling at him. She must have been waiting for the delivery.

"Wee barra!" she beckoned him over, and he dutifully held out the package once he reached her side. Instead, she'd gently corralled him in to where the staff and their children set up at a little table in the kitchen, "Chan eil, thoir dha a bhobain e."

Sunshine boy was sat at the place of honour, happily munching on black bun, a small stack of 6 shiny coins next to his plate. Killer looked back to the adults to make sure he was fulfilling the request correctly, surprised to see Eustass smirking at him from the back corner next to the oven. The old man nodded for him to go on, and Killer held out the wrapped package to the boy.

"Là breith sona dhuit!" Everyone chorused as the child tore into the paper, revealing small little stuffed toy of a boar. Killer froze, caught off guard as the words sunk in.

"Did Killer get you a little friend?" the cook asked, and the child held it up for all to see, a smile as bright as the sun across his face.

"Innis do Killer 'tapadh leibh.'" Eustass said, and the birthday boy turned to Killer with that thousand watt smile.

"Thank you Killer!"

Then they'd sat Killer down with the other children at the table of the birthday boy, fed him rich fruit cake and lamb cabbage rolls and when it had gotten late and time for all good boys to be in bed, the cook had tucked him already half asleep into one of the booths closest to the kitchen where the oven kept everything warm. He'd woken the next morning to fresh bread and a few coins for his trouble.

How could he ever abandon the kid after that, the only piece left to any of the good people who had the misfortune of being remembered by him alone.

First-Foot this year was more muted than Killer could ever remember; he'd always spend that night in the Heaps - he knew better than to risk someone's whole year on the likes of him - but there's always been such grandeur leading up to it. Festivals of fire and music and foot. Winter's were harsh, and everyone reveled in a chance to find some warmth and joy. But this last winter had been cold and grey and bitter. And no fanfare to banish the old in favor of new.

Still, dutifully, he counted the days - he'd always been very good at keeping track of things like that, and once the kid was set up on his little corner for begging, Killer slipped away. Usually, he stuck nearby, pilfering pockets. But he had a plan today that involved something else. He'd been skimping on the food he'd been buying for himself, trying to save up a few more coins for today especially.

Fruit might be expensive in the winter, but meat was in steady supply even if a lot was imported these days. Killer also knew for a fact that at least one tavern had gotten in some winter cabbage and he could easily get there and back before the kid missed him.

Days where short this time of year, and Killer got back just as the sun slipped behind the buildings and the temperatures started to drop. Little coin could be made this late - most people rushing to get home while any warmth remained, and Killer and the kid where no different. They picked their way quickly back to the hovel they had built for themselves in the Heaps this winter.

Once Killer - the larger of the two - crawled in, they drug the large scrap of sheet metal over the entrance until there was just enough room for the smaller boy to slip in. There was no one in the Heaps smaller than him and no one knew just how big the shelter was once inside, so they where left unbothered.

Killer moved a second smaller sheet over the gap from the inside as the kid carefully lit the little lamp they had. The piece would block the light and would help block the wind even if it was still quite drafty. "So where's you disappear to today?" the boy asked him, looking a little accusatory.

"Got a surprise for ya, Sunshine!" Killer help up the two packages he'd produced over the day. The first one was set out on their 'table,' freshly made and still hot cabbage rolls, stuffed with beef. More than enough to fill the stomach of any child.

The second was a little bag he tossed at his friend.

"I hate that name," the boy grumbled, even as he opened the little drawstring bag with a crudely stitched skull and crossbones on the outside. Seven coins spilled out on his palm, one for each year and another for luck. Killer had saved the cleanest newest coins he could find, and then buffed them to a brilliant shine - they'd be spent quickly, but in the mean time they shined like new.

"Sorry, Sorry, wont use it again," Regardless, Killer had grinned amiably through his apology, "Happy Birthday, kiddo."

The 6 year old marveled at the coins, before Killer's word caught up to him, "Tch! That's even worse than sunshine!"

[nateconnolly]

I made a Patreon lol.

Here's the free sample post:

THE CREATION MYTH OF KILL 6 BILLION DEMONS

INTRODUCTION

I love fantasy religions. I love it when fictional humans try to understand worlds like Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere and Tolkein’s Middle Earth through a religious lens—especially because in those books and in many others, the fantasy religions are somewhat true, and somewhat false. It’s really fun to look at a fictional universe through the eyes of a character who might not see things objectively. Religion usually plays a role in that. But, if I’m being honest, a lot of fantasy religions are just Christianity wearing a fun hat. Don’t get me wrong, I am fascinated by Chrisitianity, and I really enjoy a lot of fantasy versions of Christianity. But it’s a great special treat when a fantasy story goes the extra mile and portrays another concept of the divine. That’s one of many reasons that I love the webcomic Kill 6 Billion Demons. The webcomic’s fictional religion Atru has parallels to Taoism, Gnosticism, Advaita Vedanta, theothanatology, Biblical divine nomenclature, the list goes on. I just threw a lot of big scary words at you, but I promise, this is a beginner level essay. I’ll break everything down into bite-sized pieces. I just wanted to list out some of K6BD’s religious influences to show that they are complicated, and diverse.

This is specifically a essay about the creation narratives. K6BD is an amazing comic—later on, it tackles questions about time, free will, and optimistic nihilism, but I won’t dig into that stuff here. Those things would require their own essays. Here, I’m going to try to explain how the seven-part world came to be. More specifically, I’ll examine the stories that White Chain, Cio, Michael, and the old devil’s tale tell us; then I’ll look at fictional holy texts found in the Concordance.

I’ll also compare and contrast with a lot of real world religion and philosophy. I want to be clear that the creator Abaddon and I have never spoken. I don’t know where he got most of his inspiration. I’m not revealing any information that wasn’t already available, I’m just compiling it and offering my own thoughts. Unless I specifically quote Abaddon, assume that I’m not even talking about his inspirations. I’m drawing parallels because it’s fun, even though it probably won’t give us new insight into how the text was created.

I promise I’m not trying to convert you! I genuinely don’t want to make other people believe the religion that I believe—or any religion at all. I’m just trying to show you how understanding some real world religious and philosophical concepts can deepen your appreciation of K6BD. Obviously, there will be tons of spoilers, so go read the webcomic if you haven’t already. It’s absolutely genius.

Lastly, I want to say I will discuss suicide and murder.

Ok, let’s get started.

PART ONE: THE FIRST AND GREATEST DIVISION

Let There Be No Genesis

White Chain begins the history of the universe with the words, “Let there be no Genesis,” closely echoing the in-universe fictional Psalm I. “For indeed, there was [no Genesis]. God has always existed and has never existed.” As White Chain tells her story, we are shown the god YISUN. This figure is sometimes described with it/its or she/her pronouns, but for the sake of simplicity, I’m going to follow the example of the fictional Psalm I, and use he/him. I might call him “YISUN” or “God” with a capital G depending on the context.

YISUN was eternal, and the “undisputed master of the entire omniverse.” He predates everything else, and without him, nothing would exist.

YISUN has at least twelve bodies, probably more. Some are smiling, some look mad; some resemble insects or animals; most hold weapons; and all are different colors. The central white body has four arms. Abaddon has said that YISUN’s appearance is directly inspired by the Hindu god Vishvarupa.  Hindu gods are frequently depicted with multiple body parts, an artistic tradition that Doris Srinivasan calls “the multiplicity convention.” She explains some of the religious and artistic reasons that many Indian gods have multiple body parts in her book “Many Heads, Arms, and Eyes: Origin, Meaning, and Form of Multiplicity in Indian Art.” The tradition of Hinduism is long, and diverse, so the multiple limbs in one text can mean something very different from the multiple limbs elsewhere. Srinivasan closely examines a vast expanse of Indian history, and I don’t have time to present all her ideas. I would like to specifically focus on the interpretation that multiple limbs represent the manifestations of a singular godhead.

Srinivasan writes that “Multiple versions of a myth are facilitated by the idea that there exists multiple aspects or manifestations of a godhead.” Think of the difference between Greek and Hindu goddesses. Bruno Snell suggests “that these four women signalize the four aspects of all womanhood,” but Srinivasan qualifies his interpretation. The Olympian women “are not multiple forms of [one] Divine Woman, as is the case in Hinduism.” Artemis and Athena are different people who are both women, plural. Parvati, Sati, and Uma together are Woman, singular. Zeus, Demeter, and Poseidon are gods, plural. Shiva, Vishnu, and Krishna are God, singular. That’s not how all Hindus see things, but it is one Hindu perspective that I find especially comparable to K6BD.

Similarly, the multiple bodies are only manifestations of a single God: YISUN. All of his bodies are a single person. In Hinduism, the plurality of the divine can be seen as empowering and liberating. Multiple body parts signify that the god is a well-rounded entity. But Abaddon makes it look like a curse. He turns the artistic convention around. Using the same symbolism and metaphysics, he tells a radically different story. As White Chain says, “Being was only circular.” “YISUN had no equal… It was a wretched life, without meaning or perception. Imagine infinite stories to tell… and nobody to tell them to.” Perfection is lonely. At this point, YISUN is the only thing that exists, and that can’t be fun. All those arms and heads cannot satisfy YISUN’s need for companionship. It’s fascinating to me that when White Chain says YISUN had no one to whom it could tell its stories, Abaddon chose to illustrate multiple heads right next to each other. Even if those heads told each other stories, the speaker and the listener would still be the same person. Dissatisfaction with isolation is why YISUN created the world.

Although not all Hindus follow the school of Advaita Vedanta, in this case, I think it will be helpful to compare and contrast with Advaita. As Ram Shanker Misra writes in “The Integral Advaitism of Sri Aurobindo,” “Brahman [ is] perfect, absolute, infinite, need[s] nothing, [and] desir[es] nothing…” Brahman is full of all perfections. And to say that Brahman has some purpose in creating the world will mean that [Brahman] wants to attain through the process of creation something which it has not. And that is impossible.”

But that’s exactly why YISUN created this world. He wants to gain something that he does not have: companionship.The universe is God’s escape from himself. There was no Genesis, but there was “the first and greatest division: division of self”: “God committed holy suicide.”

2. The Divine Suicide

White Chain’s story is similar to Friedrich Nietzsche’s famous claim that “God is dead,” but Nietzsche did not mean God was a real entity that had literally died. He meant that intellectually, it was impossible to continue believing in God, and that all intellectual achievements founded on belief in Him had to be abandoned. Nietzsche’s claim is a famous example of a philosophical school of thought called death of God theology, also called “theothanatology,” which means “the study of God’s death” in Greek.

“Death” can mean a lot of different things in this context. Sometimes it’s metaphorical, sometimes it’s literal, and usually, it’s a very confusing mixture of both.

Nietzsche proposed the death of God as a social claim about humans. He’s talking about what we can believe, what we should do, and what we need to accept. God never really existed, but as religion loses followers and influence, even the idea of God has begun to “die” because it no longer has power over the real world.

“Death” can also mean God exists, but in a way radically different from what people usually mean when they say “God.” The Rabbi and philosopher Richard L. Rubenstein thought God exists as a “ground of being,” but not as a supernatural entity that made a covenant with Abraham. Rubenstein proposed the death of God as an intellectual change in what humans think the word “God” means.

And, finally, “death” can just literally mean “death.” The Protestant theologian Thomas J.J. Altizer wrote “we shall understand the death of God as an historical event: God has died in our time, in

our history, in our existence.” This isn’t a social claim about humans—it’s a metaphysical claim about God.

Death of God theologians usually mean more than one thing when they say God is dead. Nietzsche wasn’t just trying to convince Christians to become atheists; he was also trying to convince many atheists that they disbelieved in God in the wrong way. Altizer had radical thoughts about what human beings are able to believe.

White Chain means that God is dead in the literal sense. She is proposing a metaphysical belief that God, as a historical figure, chose to actually kill himself. White Chain is not rejecting or critiquing religion—she’s asserting that her religion, in which God has died, is fact.

You can see slight parallels to Nietzsche, Rubenstein, Altizer, Hegel, Zizek, and Blake in White Chain’s version of the fictional religion Atru. But there is no better comparison than the king of sad philosophers Philipp Mainlander.

Mainlander was an atheist—but not in the sense that people usually mean when they say “atheist.” Mainlander believed that there was a God at some time, but that time is now over. There isn’t a God anymore. Mainlander is pretty unique among death of God theologians because he explicitly describes God’s death as a suicide. Whittaker explains that Mainlander thought “[a]ll things have their origin in what may be called… the ‘will’ of the absolute being… to annihilate itself.” Essentially, the cause of the universe is God’s suicidal desires.

God was a “real unity,” but his death caused a “collective unity”—that’s the universe where we live now. God had been a total and undivided One, but now the universe is made of distinct parts. God cut himself apart into the pieces of the universe. God created the world by becoming it, and he became the world by dying.

Mainlander said “the knowledge that life is worthless is the flower of all human knowledge.” He thought suicide was desirable, and ultimately, he put his money where his mouth was. The biggest difference between Mainlander and White Chain is that she doesn’t seem to think ordinary people such as herself should follow God’s suicidal example. Even beyond the views of a specific character, the story of Kill 6 Billion Demons reads as an affirmation of life’s beauty and value.

But the webcomic clearly argues that making a better world is a bloody project. So it should come as no surprise that making the world itself involved bloodshed. First and foremost, the blood of God. What’s so interesting to me is that both White Chain and Mainlander equate God’s suicide to the creation of the world. Our life comes from God’s death. Creation and destruction aren’t opposites—they’re different ways of looking at the same process. At the end of Book 2, Allison destroys Mottom’s evil tree and a lot of her palace—but this destruction is also part of the creation of a more just and free world.

So, what did God’s destruction create? What came after YISUN?

3. The Duality of Un and Yis

The destruction of the total unity creates duality. I know that’s a little confusing because YISUN had many faces, but remember that behind all of those faces was one God, and only one. Not anymore. “From division was birthed duality. White Un, Lord of empty and still places, master of all that is not. Black Yis, infinite mother of the rampant flame. Master of all that is''

I cannot avoid comparing the White and Black gods to the Yin and Yang—a spinning black and white symbol usually associated with the religion Taoism. Yin and Yang represent a cosmic duality. Yin is associated with femininity, darkness, passivity, and even numbers, among other things. Yang is associated with masculinity, light, activity, and odd numbers, among other things. Mainstream Taoist philosophy asserts that the universe can be understood through duality. So, why are these pairs important? And why do things get paired together in the first place?

As is written in the foundational Taoist text the Tao Te Ching, “Being and non-being create each other. Difficult and easy support each other. Long and short define each other. High and low depend on each other. Before and after follow each other.” What’s so interesting about the pairs is they “create,” “support,” “define,” and “depend on” each other. Black can’t exist without white, and white cannot exist without black.

As the Encyclopedia of Philosophy puts it, “...yinyang is emblematic of valuational equality rooted in the unified, dynamic, and harmonized structure of the cosmos. As such, it has served as a heuristic mechanism for formulating a coherent view of the world…” Essentially, neither of these opposites are “dominant” or “truer.” Choosing one side won’t help you understand the universe because the universe is their partnership. Their equality gives “structure to the cosmos.” That structure is order, not chaos, but it is differentiated. There are two different things: Yin and Yang. They contradict each other, but at the same time, they make the universe. Yin and Yang are a productive paradox.

I’d like to return to the notion that “being and non-being create each other.” At this stage of creation in K6BD, UN and YIS could not exist without each other. Their very existence is the fact that they are not a unity. If there was only one of them, then there wouldn’t have been a division—and they are nothing more than the product of division. Just like how being and non-being create each other, the Master of All That Is and the Master of All That Is Not create each other. YISUN was characterized by his totality—he was the total sum of the omniverse, there was nothing else. After the division, Un and Yis experience otherness. The first otherness in the omniverse. It’s difficult for them to find balance—in fact, they immediately went to war for seven years. At the end of their seven-year war, Un and Yis made love for seven days.

I want to be very clear that this is not a depiction of actual Taoism. Yin and Yang are not gods with faces and minds. Notably, the Tao Te Ching asserts that yin and yang are “older than God.” so make of that what you will. But I think Taoism is thematically relevant to this era. Two opposites have to come into balance with each other. The whole universe is a duality of interconnected forces.

K6BD repeatedly emphasizes the need for community. As Allison says at the end of King of Swords, “I couldn’t have done this without any of you… We make mistakes. We learn from each other. We all still have so much to learn. Once I saw that as a weakness, now I’m certain it’s not. Someone who lives still thinking like that… struggling to do everything themselves… I can’t help but think how alone they must be.”

YISUN had to do everything all by himself, and we saw that Allison was right—isolation was a struggle, even for God. But the struggle is over, and in its place is duality. Partnership. The first community.

These are the first four parts of a fourteen-part critical essay. You can read the rest here.

Bibliography is on the free Patreon post.

[inafieldofdaisies]

Happy Halloween from Calahan who is taking over the cult indefinitely (a.k.a. WIP Wednesday bcs I'm late, kinda) | "Sinners Welcome" Drabble

I had this idea floating around about doing an edit of Cal cosplaying as Joseph for Halloween, so here y'all go. I'm just so proud of it. I went as far as designing his tattoos myself as graphics to use. Below we got the story that goes with the edit, I will be posting it on AO3 soon, too. It gets nsfw towards the end because John do be sinnin'.

"Donovan.", Whitehorse called out as soon as Sabrina walked in through the door, a part of her feeling glad he was saving her from the compulsory morning small talk with Nancy. "Morning, Sheriff.", she sent him a small smile, noting the deep frown he wore for such an early hour. "Walk with me." He didn't wait for her to reply, heading towards the small kitchen in the Sheriff's Department. Silence took over as he waited for the coffee machine to grant him, if she had to guess, not his first dose of caffeine for the day. "Is everything okay?" "You're with Rookie today.", he mumbled as he took a sip from his mug, "Pratt called in sick, and I need someone to keep an eye on him." She nodded, "Fine by me." "Good, good.", his voice lowered, "To be frank, Hudson refused after hearing where they'd be headed." "Jesus, boss… you're making it sound like me and Gray are about to go to war.", Calahan poked his head into the room, lips twisting into a cheeky smile. Whitehorse's eyes narrowed as he smoothed down his mustache, "I'm more worried about you starting a war, Rookie." A snort left the younger Deputy, "Not on my to-do list, no worries." "I've heard that before.", he turned to Sabrina, "Donovan, just… try to keep him in check, will ya? Make sure he doesn't kill anyone." Calahan sent her a 'can you believe this guy' look over their boss' shoulder, "Will do." Whitehorse sighed, "The last thing I need is John Seed showing up out front, and makin' demands again. Am I clear, Rookie? Stay out of trouble." "As clear as this fine morning, sir.", the words were paired with a dramatic salute. "It's fucking overcast today, Rookie."

Sabrina bit back a laugh as he made a hasty escape before Calahan could raise his blood presure even more than he already had. "Kid." "What?", to an outsider the innocent look in Hartley's eyes would have been convincing enough, but by then she knew better, especially with the overall satisfied demeanor he had going on even after being prematurely scolded by Whitehorse. "Where are we going?" The smile that took over his face promised trouble, "Payin' good old Joe a visit." It's all he provided as an explanation before he spun on his heel and gestured for her to follow him. "I didn't get a coffee." There was an extra bounce to his step, strange giddiness, and he didn't even bother to stop when he muttered, "Already on it, Gray. It's waiting for you in the car. Chop-chop."

Minutes later, they were pulling at Joseph's Compound, the music Calahan had playing in the cruiser drawing the attention of the two Eden's Gate members manning the front gates to it. The fact they rested their hands on their holsters as he shut off the ignition wasn't lost on Sabrina. "Cal?" By the looks of it, he wasn't sharing her concerns about things going sideways on trigger-happy Peggie territory, "Yeah?" "Try not to make them angry… for me?" He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair before nodding quickly, "I will try my best, partner." She knew it was all she could really get from him as a promise, especially considering his previous run-ins with Joseph's men. There was a reason why Hudson had refused to tag along with him for the day - avoiding paperwork or having to talk him down from the edge. Chances were, their routine visit could result in a fight breaking out, punches being thrown or worse. Sabrina exited the car, following Hartley towards the entrance of the Compound as he strutted like he had no care in the world, headed straight for the cultists.

"Joseph called us in.", he announced and crossed his hands over his chest, regarding both men with a bored expression. "Morning.", she added, refusing to buckle under the scrutiny that somehow had ended up on her instead of Calahan. "Ask for Mercy.", one of the bearded men grumbled out, dark eyes revealing little as he extended his hand to point down the road behind him. "Well, that didn't sound menacing at all.", Sabrina remarked under her breath as she and Hartley followed the muddy path surrounded by fences on both sides on foot, and judging by how trodden it was, large processions from and to sermons weren't uncommon. The observation was just another awful reminder of how big of an influence the cult had, how many it had sucked in with its practices and empty promises. "Fucking weirdos. There better be a woman named Mercy waitin' or I'm-"

"You promised to stay calm.", she reminded him, gaze trained ahead in anticipation of anything malicious after the man's cryptic words, "I take it that you don't know who we're looking for?" Calahan snorted, "Not like I and Joseph's many wives hang out at the same spots. Hell, most of them don't even dare to look me in the eye, let alone come near me, like I'd seduce them just by breathing in their vicinity." "Rubbin' off your sin on them?", she asked jokingly. "Sins. Plural. I contain multitudes, Gray." Sabrina could feel everyone staring as two advanced ahead, a couple of houses and other small buildings coming into view, with a church towering over in the distance. There was a decent crowd around the spacious property despite the early hour. Men and women all dressed alike - in worn-out clothes bearing the symbol of their leader, the red Eden's Gate cross in stark contrast with their muted appearances. In the sea of beige and wary faces something captured her attention - a woman in a white vintage looking dress moved with conviction, but instead of coming to them and sparing them the hassle of looking for 'Mercy', she aimed for a redheaded man Sabrina had only seen on printed materials of the cult.

"That one, I know,", Calahan nodded towards him, coming to an abrupt stop and leaning in to whisper, "Jacob Seed, grumpy son of a bitch. Last person, I'd ask for directions, though." Without doubt, the oldest Seed did have a serious, over-disciplined aura about him, far different from the easy-going, dangerously charming act John put on in his attempts at recruiting new people for his brother's Project. Sabrina bit her lip as the woman with curly blonde hair tilted her head to look up at the man towering several inches over her, her demeanor relaxed in spite of the way Jacob was regarding her - like he wanted nothing to do with the interaction. As if he could sense the two sets of eyes watching them, his icy stare shifted from her to the Deputies standing a couple of feet away before he said something quietly and nodded in their direction. "Good morning, Jakey.", Calahan raised his hand in a mock wave, and the Seed brother sent him a frown before heading off the way the woman had come from without returning his greeting.

At the same time, she progressed forward, a friendly grin brightening her features as she came to a halt in front of Hartley, definitely not keeping a purposeful distance like the rest of Joseph's followers, "Deputies." He appeared completely taken aback by the bold move, especially with her deep brown eyes set on him. In ways she couldn't fault him, he had a weak spot for women, even more when he became their sole focus. Sabrina was the first to speak, "We were told to ask for Mercy." "That would be me. Mercedes Sibley. If you would follow me…", she spun around with that, uttering quiet hellos to people and leading them past the church where a house resided spaced out from the rest marked with phrases in latin. Sins, to be exact. Nothing was written above the doorway of this one, Sabrina realized. Mercedes pushed the door to the house open with her and Hartley close on her heels.

She wasn't sure what to expect from what she deemed as the home of a cult leader - somehow the plain walls in need of repaint adorned by a couple of portraits and newspaper clippings felt mundane, too normal. The short hallway led into an ordinary looking living room, where Mercedes made a right turn towards one of the open doorways, announcing in a far gentler voice as she reached it and moved aside so they can pass through first, "The Deputies are here, Father." Joseph Seed, the man that had built a giant statue of himself and pronounced himself as God's mouthpiece, sat in one of the chairs at that small kitchen table while his older brother stood nearby as if on guard duty. The gun and knife holster strapped to his tight certainly hinted at that. "Good morning, my name is Deputy Donovan, my colleague and I are here on a call.", Sabrina explained while Calahan remained silent, an unreadable expression coming over his features when his blue eyes set on the 'Father'.

"Shouldn't we call John, let him handle things?", Jacob grunted out, pretending like they weren't even in the room as Mercedes moved past him and resumed a position behind his brother. To Calahan's credit, he made none of the expected remarks, his serious demeanor beginning to worry Sabrina to an extent. "Somebody broke in, brother.", Mercedes glanced in the oldest Seed's direction, his gaze narrowing at the last word she had said in a sickly sweet tone, "Does it make sense to call in an attorney for that?" Joseph's eyes bounced between the Deputies, finally coming to rest on Hartley's, "Sit, Mercy, my child. There's no need to call John at the moment." Mercedes complied by slipping into the chair next to his, silently hinting for Sabrina to do the same. She cleared her throat, settling into her seat across from the woman before pulling out her report notebook and laying it down on the table, "How about we start from the beginning then?"

Calahan loomed behind her, hand grasping the back of her chair, standing watch just like Jacob was for his brother. Joseph pushed his sunglasses up his nose before leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him, "I went to bed last night, and nothing was out of place. After waking up this morning, I noticed a couple of things were missing." Sabrina noted his words down, tapping her pen on the page, trying to avoid any unnecessary eye contact, "Things as in?" She couldn't imagine how stuffy the room would feel if John had been there too to make demands, possess the conversation. How fully outnumbered they'd be then. "Personal belongings.", Jacob cut in. "We would need a list of anything that's been taken, Mr. Seed.", Sabrina sent him a quick glance, just in time to catch his eyes darting to Mercedes. Interesting. "My old Bible,", Joseph began, lips pursed in disdain, "an engraved belt, a black custom blazer and… my rosary. I believe that's all."

"Okay.", it was a strange list of items to be stolen, but Sabrina didn't say anything as she jotted down each item, "Any sign of forced entry, or better yet, can we take a look around ourselves?" "I still think we should call John.", Jacob grumbled out again, making Mercedes sigh quietly. "He doesn't lock any of the doors.", she said eventually. Calahan snorted at that, whatever energy for acting decent running its course, "So, the perp just… entered?" "Which is still a crime, is it not?", Mercedes asked slowly. "Technically, yes.", he chuckled, "But, Father here is making it a hundred times easier on thieves. So frankly, anyone living on the property could be a suspect. He's lucky nobody has done other serious crimes upon his person while he sleeps. A slit throat for example." "I trust my children, they would never steal from me, let alone hurt me.", Joseph argued. "Do you, now?", Calahan's voice took an edge, "Can they say the same about you, Father?"

"So much darkness,", the Father's eyes rose up to look over Sabrina's shoulder, "is trapped within you, child, looking for a way out. My family could help you, set you free from it." "I'd take no help from a man that doesn't even know how to protect his own home. If I were you, I'd worry more about the thief lurking amongst your people instead of my poor blackened soul… after all, stealing is a sin, is it not?" Jacob came closer, "It was an outsider, we are certain of it. So just do your job and find them." Sabrina nodded as she closed her notebook, "We will take a look around then." Mercedes rose up with that, "I can show you two-" "Sit down, Mercedes.", annoyance seeped into the command as Jacob strode past the table and out of the kitchen, calling out for Sabrina to follow him. He pointed at each door that led outside, the old floorboards groaning beneath his feet at almost every step he took. Calahan stayed behind in the kitchen doorway as she took notes, leaving her to ask questions and navigate the hostile waters.

"Your brother sleeps where?" His chin lifted up towards a doorway that led out of the living room, "Down that hall." "Heavy or light sleeper?" Jacob crossed his hands over his chest, impatience oozing from his body language, "How is this relevant?" "Considering I'm trying to determine most likely point of entry… it would be helpful. If you have better things to do, Mr. Seed, I'm sure Ms. Sibley won't mind taking it from here." His jaw ticked at the suggestion, "Light." Sabrina focus zeroed on the backdoor, and she walked back and forth a couple of times while scanning for any potential evidence the thief might have left behind, "Would you mind…" "I mind." It took a lot of willpower for her to not roll her eyes, reminding herself the quicker they wrap up the report, the sooner her and Calahan would be rid of dealing with the Seeds.

"It would be helpful if somebody with different stature-" Jacob repeated her movements before she could finish her sentence, then turned back to her with a 'are you happy now?' expression. "Thank you.", she lifted her attention from her notebook, making sure to pick her next words carefully, "Your brother claims the perp entered the house during the night while he was asleep." At his nod she continued, "And his floors aren't exactly-" His icy blue gaze narrowed at that, "What's your point, Deputy Donovan?" "I assume the items were in the room where he sleeps?" "Yes.", a hand scratched his bearded cheek. "And he didn't hear anything?" "Are you accusing my brother of lying?" It was at that point she began to wonder if John in fact had been around, he would have been easier to deal with, or he would have ended up avoiding answering her questions even more, especially with how cagey Jacob acted, like she wasn't there to help, but rather arrest Joseph.

"I'm not accusing Mr. Seed of anything. In an investigation every bit of information is useful, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. You called us, I'm just trying to do my job here." "Mercedes called you. I had nothing to do with this.", he corrected her coldly. Sabrina spared a quick look in Calahan's direction, finding him watching the two silently with a dark smirk from his previous spot, before she pulled the door leading out of the back of the house open. Her eyes remained casted downward, and she could feel Jacob standing close as he peeked over her shoulder at what had captured her interest. "Do many visitors use this door usually?" "No." At his confirmation, she crouched down, taking a picture of a fresh footprint left in the mud and measuring it with her hand roughly, she hushed the part of her telling her the size of the shoes the thief wore seemed to match Calahan's.

"So this is the point of entry?", he inquired for once as she got back up. "It would seem so.", she pocketed her notebook, "Anything of significance back there?" "That way leads off the property." Sabrina carefully avoided stepping over the only evidence left behind, her sights set on examining the path the perp had most likely took after snatching Joseph's belongings. "I will need to take a look then.", she didn't expect for the oldest Seed to follow, but he did, the crunch of leaves and twigs signaling his steady pace behind her. The silence only broken by the occasional chirping of birds around them was unnerving, even more paired with the fact she was being shadowed by an armed individual who wasn't exactly keen on her and Calahan's presence at his brother's Compound. Yet she refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was making her uncomfortable, she had no doubt he would enjoy every second of it.

"I haven't seen you around before.", Jacob mumbled in an even tone as she advanced forward, watching her every step carefully as the path pretty much disappeared into an overgrown grass. If it was anyone else, his attempt at small talk would have made her smile, she'd probably would have tried to ease the person's unease at it, instead she kept her answer as short as possible, the same way he had before, "You folks don't exactly have a habit of asking for our help." A noise of agreement left him at the same time her boot caught on what she guessed was an exposed tree root, making her trip as she navigated the terrain soaked by the rain from the night prior. The dreaded faceplant never came thanks to the hand that wrapped around her upper arm and steadied her, followed by a dark chuckle. "Careful now, Sabrina." The fact he knew her first name despite remarking how he'd never seen her before was a red flag on its own and confirmed he knew more than he let on, the choice of using it at that exact moment though, was what gave her pause.

She held his stare in defiance before shaking off his hold, "I can handle myself." The bored expression swooped back in place as he lifted his shoulder, "Be my guest." Sabrina covered the remaining distance to the property line in a rush, worrying about what would await her upon returning to the house, if Calahan would have managed to keep his cool as promised. To her relief Jacob settled for keeping any further comments to himself, trekking a few feet away behind her until they reached the fence that was meant to keep intruders out. Or members trying to flee, in… A well-thought cut in the chainlink greeted them. The sought after point of entry and escape. "You're better at this than expected.", he remarked quietly, pulling at the fence as his face scrunched up into a frown. Sabrina pursed her lips at the offhand compliment before snapping a couple of pictures, "Not sure if I should say thank you or feel insulted."

All she got as reply was an unreadable look before he let go of the mesh the thief had snipped at to gain entry on the cult's land. "So perp goes through all this trouble, risks getting caught by your brother… for a belt, blazer and old bible?" "Locals have been know to do far stranger things to Eden's Gate property." "Still… are you certain nothing else is missing? Anything beside your patience, that is.", the last part she uttered out in a low voice, but judging by his reaction he heard it. All she could describe him as was appearing insulted at the bold but very true observation, "I'm absolutely patient." She raised an eyebrow and set off towards the way they came from, "Sure." "Far more patient than your partner back there.", the 'partner' part he said as an insult, clearly thinking as highly of Calahan as the young Deputy did of him. Just when she was convinced he would slip back into avoiding conversation, he spoke up again, hesitation lurking behind his words, "Do you think he was lying?"

It was quite obvious who he meant, still she settled for a simple, "Who?" "Joseph." "About which part?" The idea anyone, let alone someone so close to the Father was questioning something he claimed had happened, was certainly an unexpected outcome. By then Jacob had caught up, falling into step beside her, "Being asleep. Considering you were a detective…" "You read my records or something, Mr. Seed?" "Something like that." Sabrina sneaked a fleeting glance in his direction, "You actually want my professional opinion or is this some tactic you picked up from John?" "I want the truth." A sigh broke free as her eyes came to rest on the house that was drawing closer and closer, "Well, do you think your brother would sleep through a person entering his home, no, worse, his bedroom… rummaging through the space in the dark for the items while leaving no traces behind?"

"It was a compliment.", he muttered when they reached the backyard and he pushed his way inside first, his stony demeanor returning at once. Whatever doubts were plaguing him were none of her business, her sole focus as she followed in his wake was making sure Hartley was okay and staying true to his promise of peace. "Cal." Calahan had hardly moved from where she had left him and he gave her a puzzled look before asking, "We done here?" "I need like 5 minutes.", her smile was forced when she entered the kitchen where only Mercedes was still seated, while Joseph and Jacob were nowhere to be found. "He won't be pressing any charges…" Sabrina shifted in place, "We haven't established any suspects yet, Ms. Sibley." "I'm just saving you time, Deputy.", the blonde got up with that, smoothing down her dress, "John has decided to take it from here, figure out who's done it and make sure the incident doesn't repeat."

"You heard her, Gray.", Calahan added behind her, "We're off then, miss." He sent Mercedes one of his signature winks before storming out of the house, and to her credit she appeared completely unfazed in comparison to the usual response he got from women, "I will see you out." Sabrina nodded and set out after her, meeting up with Hartley who was waiting for her outside by the entrance. With a final wave from the woman, the two were off on their way back to their cruiser, quickly becoming the center of attention once more. A couple of feet down the dirt path she spotted another familiar face that stared at her anytime she would turn on her TV or drive through town. The man that had decided to take over the 'investigation', believing he was more capable. John was engaged in a hushed conversation with Jacob, pausing whatever he was saying to steal a look at her.

"I feel like we're animals in a zoo." Calahan let out a chuckle, "Sadly no petting, though. Speaking off…" To her horror, his voice rose as they passed the two Seed brothers, drawing in even more eyes to them. "Anyone feelin' like sinnin' tonight?", he hollered cheerfully, "Halloween party at the Spread Eagle. Girls, I'd even buy you a drink. Dancing's on the menu, too, followed by other activities if you're lucky." The dark expression that came over John's face was enough for her hands to wrap around his arm and squeeze his bicep in a warning as she whispered under her breath, "You promised to behave." "I behaved plenty.", his smirk was full of pride, "Plus, look at Johnny, I'm pretty certain I saw a vein in his forehead pop, I need to get closer to see-" She ushered him along, knowing things were bound to end well if he and John were to butt heads right then and there, "Follow the path, kid." To the youngest Seed credit, he refrained from giving them a piece of his mind, and Sabrina wasn't sure if it was thanks to the crows and his brother watching his every move or because he was planning another appearance in front of the Sheriff's and making Whitehorse's day hell.

"Do you think I'd get lots of candy, Rin-Rin?", Savannah asked with an excited smile as she peeked over the back of the couch. Sabrina sank in the empty space next to her, and her sister snuggled into her embrace, "Even if you don't.", her voice lowered like she was about to share a little secret, "I hid a stash for you someplace in the house." Excitement shone in her green eyes, "My favorite candy?" "Of course, pumpkin." "You know, bats use echolocation to find their food?" Sabrina released a chuckle,  "Then it's even more fitting." A knock sounded, making her rise up from her seat, curiosity swooping at who was stopping by when Ms. Darcy wasn't meant to be there for a good couple of hours. She swung the door open, finding Calahan leaning against the doorframe with one of his usual grins, a black duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, a familiar pair of yellow tinted shades covering his eyes.

"Hey." "Kid?, she gave him a confused look as he pushed his way inside, "I thought we were meeting at the bar?" "Tiny!", he greeted Savannah, and before he could blink, a blur of red curls was rushing at him, and he scooped her sister up like she weighted nothing. "Uncle Cal,", small hands came to rest on his shoulders, as her mood brightened even more at the surprise visit, "did you come to see my costume?" "Of course, Sav. You're going to be the cutest bat." He lowered her back onto the ground, turning to Sabrina with a determined expression, "Speaking of costumes, Gray…" There was twinkle in his baby blues as he regarded her, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was just as excited for the holiday as Savannah. "You're yet to tell me what you're even going as.", she raised an eyebrow in a question, having no idea what he would actually pick. His lips twisted into a smirk, "A beloved character, if you will."

"Oh?" "And I kind of need your help… seeing how you're the one with artistic skills, especially compared to little old me." Sabrina nodded, "What are we talking?" Calahan's response was to chuck the duffel bag at her, and she caught it swiftly before dropping it on the floor and unzipping it to see what he had brought along as materials. Her hands lifted a pair of dark gray jeans that laid on top, covering the rest of the items inside, and she needed a moment to process what she was staring at. A belt engraved with the Eden's Gate cross. A black blazer. A well-worn bible that looked like it was close to falling apart. No, not a bible, rather than a Joseph's version of it. A rosary was at the bottom, confirming her suspicions further. "Calahan.", Sabrina muttered in disbelief as her gaze rose up to his, registering the sheepish expression he wore at the discovery.

"Yeah?" "It was you." "No comment." "I-", she shook her head, "I have no idea what to say." "Say you will help me by drawing a couple of tattoos for me?", he paired the words with puppy dog eyes for good measure. "Jesus, Cal." "You're in troubleeee.", Savannah giggled behind him, completely oblivious to the fact her beloved uncle had committed a crime, broke the law when he was supposed to enforce it. "Pretty, please?", his voice dipped, "I went through so much s-", he stopped himself before a curse slipped out, "stuff to get them… I'd draw the tats myself, but well… angles aren't exactly friend, and I feel like this look deserves more, you know?" "And Whitehorse?" "You heard Mercy, there's no case for us to worry about. Joseph can, uh, fluff off." Sabrina sighed, "I can't believe this."

He shimmied towards her to pick up the bag, "That a yes?" "I-" "Say yes. I knoooow, wrong brother.", he tried mimicking John's usual tone from his broadcasts, successfully making her laugh as her frown melted away. "You're going to owe me one." Calahan made a cross over his heart, "Goes without sayin'." She took a deep breath before pointing at the hallway that led upstairs, "Bedroom then, I will be right up." "Not something I expected to hear from you.", he wiggled his eyebrows before disappearing up the stairs. "Sav, I will help uncle Cal with his costume for the party, I won't be long, okay?" Her sister nodded excitedly, a rush coursing through her system like she had already gone through the candy reserve hidden for her, "I can't wait to see his." Sabrina winced at the idea Calahan most likely planned on going shirtless that evening and showing off as much as he could, "Behave while I'm gone, okay? If you need anything, just holler." "Okay.", Savannah's attention shifted back to the TV, and Sabrina rushed out of the living room and towards her bedroom.

Hartley had made himself at home in one of her armchairs, jumping to his feet as soon as she came into view. "Ready?" Sabrina rubbed her forehead as she rummaged through the drawer that held all body paints she had left from previous Halloweens, "Don't expect miracles." "Want to see my sharpie rendition of Joe's tattoos? Then we can talk about failures.", he asked before lifting his shirt over his head, "I showered before coming over, by the way." Sabrina gestured to the chair in front of her vanity as she selected what brushes she might need, "You're a lot, you know that?" "Just try not to fall in love.", Hartley added jokingly as he shuffled over, muscles flexing as he sat down in his designated spot. "That won't be an issue." Her disbelief made him laugh out loud before he muttered, "It's a thing. Like for real." "Then maybe Mary May would tonight?"

"Doubtful.", his tone became sober for a second, regret swooping in, then another grin erased his scowl, "I found you pictures." Sabrina released a dramatic sigh of relief, "Good, because it ain't like I've seen Joseph naked, so you'd be getting generic tattoos without references. You're lucky you're not getting prison ones, consider you committed a crime last night." "Pfft, he has extras of everything I took. The only reason he called us in was because he couldn't believe someone had the guts to enter his actual house." She didn't bother to point out the bible looked treasured, somewhat irreplaceable based on its state. The fact Joseph might value the items wasn't going to change Hartley's mind and make him return what he stole, not even because of the risk he might get into trouble with Whitehorse, but simply for the idea he refused to bow down to any of the Seeds. He pulled out his phone, presenting a couple of shots from sermons the Project no doubt used to promote themselves.

"You know, for a cult that hates technology and sinning, they sure are relying hard on both to lure people in…", Sabrina uttered out, beginning with a crudely done, faded reddish tattoo on his right clavicle, spelling 'Sloth'. Calahan snorted, "Have you seen John? Fucker is the very definition of honey trap, then you have Faith… Hell, the little lady from this morning certainly was one too." "Both brothers were acting strange around her." "Jacob?", he huffed at the idea, "Ain't no way. John, I can picture being frustrated as fuck and losing his mind at the fact his brother banned sex." "Whatever you say." "All that talk of sin, like come on.", he argued, "Folks are talkin' about him and his life before the Project…" "I suspect I don't wanna know." His grin remained in place, fully fueled by the fact he was getting what he wanted while gossiping about the family that was a thorn in the County's side, "Oakley and I made a bet after hearin' some interesting things from Addie. $50 says he has a sex room at the ranch Joe knows nothing about."

"And how exactly would you confirm that?", Sabrina's next step was painting a black-and-white crown adorned by the cult's cross and to Calahan's credit, even with all the unleashed energy within him, he remained seated without fidgeting too much. "No clue.", he began slowly, sounding like he was actually considering the idea, "I ain't takin' one for the team, that's for sure. No idea who would and how successful they'd be, either." "That would be a sacrifice." Hartley groaned at that, "He most definitely chants 'Yes' over and over as he comes. Guaranteed. Can you imagine it? I can't picture sentencing anyone to that torture." "I'd rather not. Sit still,", she warned as she began working on another tattoo, "Can we change the subject?" "What? Johnny fuckin' ain't your cup of tea? Because I have more thoughts on the matter." "You're on thin ice, kid." "Fine, fine.", he rolled his eyes, "He stopped by the station, you know… To his shit luck, Whitehorse had left already, almost caused him to have a meltdown before his actual scheduled meltdown."

"What about?" A laugh rumbled his chest despite her previous warning, gaze filling with a prideful gleam, "Me inviting his precious members to party at Mary May's. How I was spreadin' my sinful ideas without any shame. Told him, I'd be spreading more than ideas tonight and flipped him off before I left." "Jesus." "He's probably complaining to him still. 'That sinner, how dare he! And why can't I have some, too, God?'", he went for another attempt at imitating John's way of speaking. The next tattoo that spelled 'Lust' had quite the unfortunate placement, making Sabrina back away to examine her work up until that point. "Abs are next. It might be too far, even for us." He didn't appear bothered by the idea at all when he rose up to give her better access, "Yes, m'am. Paint me like your local cult leader, not one of your french girls."

"Hilarious.", she shook her head at his amusement, "When I woke up today, the last thing I imagined having to get close and personal with your lower regions." "Oh, come on. There are worse views. Plus, I'm wearing pants, you ain't even getting the full Hartley tour." "I guess that's true.", a real tattoo above his left hip drew her attention despite trying to remain focused on her task, and a giggle broke free as she made out what it said in a convoluted font, "Cal?" "Gray?", he mimicked her intonation, eyes meeting hers. "Does this spell what I think it does?" "Oh, yeah." It took a lot for her to keep her balance or her hand steady as another laugh made it past her lips, "But, but… why?" He shrugged, "Because it's the truth. And fyi, this isn't what I usually get from girls, you're kinda bruising my ego." "I mean, it does match Joseph's 'Lust', if nothing else."

"Fucking hypocrite.", he muttered out loud as Sabrina made a sign for him to spin around with her finger and sit down again as she moved onto his back. "I did get a feeling he wasn't being truthful about his whereabouts when 'the thief' broke in." "Entered, all that was missing was a 'Welcome, come on in, Cal' sign'.", he corrected her, "It was the middle of the night, and the house was empty, Gray. He was lying through his teeth to you, and to his brother." "I figured as much." "Speaking of…", another sin that in the reference image looked like it was inked on by a child adorned Calahan's skin, "How was trekking on your own with Jacob? Not many would dare go off with him." "Not like I asked him to come.", she explained slowly, her mind drifting back to their interaction, his cryptic words, and strange behavior. The fact she was avoiding answering the question wasn't lost on him, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Like pulling teeth, no idea why he even volunteered to tag along when the whole time he was rushing to get me out of his hair as soon as possible." Calahan scratched at his stubble, "I can make a good guess, but you won't like my theory." "I suspect as much." "I will keep it to myself then." "A first." "You're welcome, it physically hurts me to hold in my jokes sometimes." A couple of minutes later, most of the simple tattoos she could copy to bring Calahan's planned look together were done. "Damn.", he exlaimed as he examined himself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom, twisting as much as he could so he could see his back as well, "I knew I shouldn't have attempted to do these myself." Sabrina laughed, "That would have been a look." "Thank you, Gray.", Hartley gave her a half-hug, staying mindful of smudging his temporary ink, "Now Whitehorse's inevitable lecture would be worth it, truly."

"I'm honestly surprised you didn't steal Joseph's underwear, commit to the bit all the way through." A snort left him, "Please, I have my limits. Glasses are a little gift from Addie and exhibit A to him not telling the truth, because I so would have snatched his sunnies, too. The jeans are mine.", a shudder racked his body, "For all I know Joe likes going commando." "Thanks for the visual." Calahan feigned a bow, "I live to serve. Or to scar people, depending on the occasion." "I need to help Sav get into her costume, I promised to take her trick-or-treating before the party." "Ah, man, I'm tempted to tag along. Think people will give me candy?", he plopped down onto her bed with a dreamy sigh. "Considering your persistence and charm, I'd guess yes. But…" "But what?" Sabrina pursed her lips, "It might be best to stay back, minimize how many people would see you before it's even showtime. Word's bound to get to John or Joseph himself."

"True.", he nodded, "Mind if I stick around, then we can leave together?" "Of course. And if you're good, you might even get some candy from Sav's reserve. Relive your childhood to the fullest before getting the adult version of Halloween." His eyes lit up at that, "You got yourself a deal." "Just avoid making Ms. Darcy shoot you by mistake if she gets here while we're gone."

After taking Savannah out to show off her bat costume she had personally worked on in making what she called 'more realistic' and returning with enough candy that her back-up stash had become unnecessary and was gifted to Calahan, Sabrina bid her and Ms. Darcy goodbye for the evening. The latter had joked how she wouldn't mind Eden's Gate if the younger Deputy was in charge. "First thing, Darce asked me was if I had forgotten my shirt,", Hartley smoothed down the stolen blazer that no doubt would come off eventually and was the only thing he wore to cover his bare chest, "and how at least I had something on to not catch my death in the cold." "She's too cute sometimes.", Sabrina retorted as she got into her Bronco and buckled in. "Yeah, reminds me of my Nana, but…", he wiggled his eyebrows, dropping Joseph's bible and rosary in his lap before he leaned back into his seat and added, "then she told me how the ladies would sure appreciate the view."

Their laughter filled the truck as she pulled out of her driveway, an advertisement about the party at the Spread Eagle coming on the local radio station she usually had playing. "Sinners welcome." closed the message, and Calahan gave Sabrina a wink when she snuck a quick look in his direction. "Yes, it was my idea. A little fuck you to John." "Mary May's paying you for those gems or?" He chuckled, "I suggested she could also use me as a model, do some shots with my renditions of the Seed brothers." "Oh my god." "She shot the idea down, sadly. Maybe next Halloween.", he drummed his hands on the dashboard, "Good news is I'm getting free drinks tonight as a thank you for helping her decorate and set shit up." "You plan on finally doing something about your crush tonight?" "What crush?" "Very funny." "Speaking of getting laid… want me to be your wingman?" Her nose wrinkled at the offer, "I'd pass on that."

"I'm like the best wingman you can have, just saying." She pulled into one of the empty parking spots across the Spread Eagle, "I'm not sleeping with anyone tonight, Calahan." Hartley jumped off the truck, bible in one hand, while the other had the rosary wrapped around his palm a couple of times. He leaned against the door, thankfully lowering his voice so the other patrons that were pilling to go inside the bar wouldn't overhear him, "If you do change your mind, just say the word. I'm going to find you someone worthy. A stallion to ride." She let out a groan as she rested her forehead against the steering wheel, "Please don't ever say that again." His laughter followed her as she got out too and locked her doors, his arm swinging over her shoulders as the two walked towards the entrance of the Spread Eagle. Loud music and chatter filled the space as the Deputies pushed their way inside. Mary May was practically swimming in drink orders to a point she didn't even notice Calahan sneaking behind the bar to envelop her in a bear hug.

The blonde's confusion quickly dissipated as she shook off his hold, still not taking a good look at his costume, "Rookie, keep that up and you will be stuck behind the bar the whole night. Helpin', not partying." "You're no fun.", Calahan complained as he heaved himself over the counter instead of taking the long route, winning another curse from Mary May followed by her eyes widening when she finally noticed his attire. He leaned against the bar counter as she slid a drink his way, "Do you like my costume, gorgeous?" "Where the fuck did you even find…", she shook her head, but a smile played across her lips. "I plead the fifth." "Brin,", her attention shifted to Sabrina, slipping back into bartender mode, "What are you drinkin'?" "I'm his DD tonight." "So nothing new?" She shrugged as Calahan downed his first glass for the night. "I'm gonna make you something delicious." "Thank you, M."

He shuffled closer, whispering in her ear over the music, "I will be right back, have to greet my Pyrobros. Do some rounds, recruit people for my newly founded cult." Before she could even respond, he strutted over to Hurk, Sharky, and a couple of other locals that were standing around one of the tables at the far end of the bar. "So, if Rookie's Joseph…", Mary May returned to her after serving a couple of newcomers, "I guess you're going for John? If you do need a Jacob-" Sabrina's confused frown cut her off, "I'm not wearing a costume, I thought those were optional." "No?" Blue eyes ran over her blue button-up she had left mostly unbottoned after leaving her jacket in her car. "Nope. Does it look like it?" "I mean, paired with him,", Mary May's head cocked in Calahan's direction, "I'd say yes. No pun intended." A drink was placed in front of her, and she took a sip, sweetness hitting her taste buds, "I love this one."

"Yeah?", pride shone in the blonde's gaze before it shifted to the far end of the counter to a figure sitting next to the wall, bathed in shadows, "Anyways, I was gonna suggest Lizzie over there being your Jacob." It was rare anyone called Oakley Moore Lizzie, most folks weren't bold enough to engage in a conversation with the woman, let alone use a nickname she considered forbidden. "Oaks.", Mary May called out to her, gesturing for her to come closer. Seconds ticked by before Oakley switched seats, shoulders bumping with Sabrina's as her pale gaze settled on her. It's what she considered a proper greeting that was usually confused with her being hostile and granted, most of the time, she wasn't one for tolerating small talk. "Brin." "How's Betty?" Warmth melted away the iciness in her eyes at the mention of her grandmother, "You know Nana, refuses to sit down. And is now forcing me to socialize after Cal mentioned the goddamned party. I was planning on going hunting."

Cheers and whistling drowned out her response as Calahan did a victory spin for the crowd gathered inside, spreading his hands in the air the same way Joseph did and exclaiming, "The Father? I prefer Daddy, my children. Sin tonight… make me proud!" "He's something else.", Oakley commented with a smirk as she downed her whiskey, nodding past Sabrina, "Did he actually go through with 'borrowing JoeJoe's things'?" "Unfortunately. We got a call about it this morning." The news ripped a laugh out of Moore, another rarety, "Even his ratty bible?" The stolen bible lay discarded next to Sabrina, and she moved it out of the way of whoever wanted to occupy the empty chair to her left, mindlessly flipping through it until something caught her eye. A picture was nestled between the pages, its corners frayed like it had been touched many times. "What the-", the question drew Mary May's attention, and she leaned over to peek at what she was holding. "Ask for Mercy." The woman they had met that morning stared back at her in the photograph, smiling, wearing another similar white dress. "Well, fuck me.", Oakley uttered under her breath as she too huddled closer to examine the find, "JoeJoe has a dirty little secret?"

"Ah, man, you nailed the Joe-bro look, I swear.", Hurk raised his beer to Calahan for a toast just as a slender hand came to rest on his elbow. "Hello.", a petite blonde dressed as a fairy he hadn't seen around before greeted him with a shy smile, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks while she ogled his bare chest that was covered in temporary tattoos. The ladies sure appreciate it. Thanks, Gray. "Calahan.", he reached out his hand, giving her one of his signature grins, "And you are, beautiful?" A giggle left her as her palm touched his, "Cheyenne, but friends call me Cherry." "Cherries are my favorite.", he replied as he leaned in closer and straightened the dainty wings she had strapped around her shoulders, "You gonna dance with me, Cherry?" "I'd love to."

A song faded into another with Cheyenne melting further into him, her flowery perfume invading his senses while he wished he was dancing with somebody else. The same somebody that was currently not so secretly shooting daggers in his direction. Mary May was certainly not appreciating the view as she poured a drink to Grace Armstrong and then moved onto another customer. "You want a drink or something, baby?", Cherry's voice pulled him out of his staring, and he forced his attention back to her, offering her a carefree smile. "I have everything I need right here." Her hands traced his pecks before encircling his neck, her body moving to the rhythm as she pressed it closer to his on the small dancefloor. His head dipped at the telltale signs while she rose on the tiptoes to meet him halfway, their lips locking and for a second, he could pretend he wasn't kissing a stranger he just met.

It was even easier when they were blondes, yet those nights stung even more afterward. A coy smile took over Cheyenne when she leaned back, her lipstick smudged slightly, "Feelin' like going someplace more private?" Before he had a chance to respond, the door to the Spread Eagle flew open with such force it banged into the wall. The noise cut through the music and murmurs of the crowd, followed by a booming voice. Or what John considered booming voice that Calahan rather described as irritated child on the verge of a meltdown. "CALAHAN HARTLEY." The grin on his face didn't melt away at his name being called, instead, he pretended nothing had happened, forcing John to strain his vocal chords some more. Even his own mother hadn't ever called his name that way, no matter how much trouble he had been in. By the youngest Seed's tone, Calahan could guess he had somehow seen one of the many pictures and videos patrons had taken with him in Joseph's attire.

"I will be right back, beautiful.", he assured Cherry before sneaking out of her embrace and facing John with a wide smile, mimicking the pose his brother loved so much. "JOHNNYYY!", he hollered back, his night getting even better when the man's face twisted in rage at the sight of him, "I knew you would be tempted to come."

Sabrina spun around in her chair as a loud bang cut through the usual chatter around them, horror gripping her as John Seed marched through the entrance of the bar like he owned the place. His voice, or rather the way he screamed Calahan's name, promised trouble, especially since he had always been mostly calm during what others categorized as 'meltdowns'. "That damned bastard, having the guts to show up here.", Mary May, slammed a glass on the counter with way too much force, the liquid inside spilling over the edges as she regarded the man that viewed her business as something that needed to be shut down. Oakley had sneaked out minutes prior, saying how she needed a smoke if she was to sit through the night and since then hadn't returned. "JOHNNYYY! I knew you would be tempted to come.", Hartley yelled back, full of glee. Before she could think twice, Sabrina was out of her chair, cutting through the crowd that had grown silent as bargoers, including Joey and Pratt, watched the scene unfolding that was bound to end in disaster.

"Brin. Fuck.", Mary May called after her, but she pushed forward while Calahan himself advanced in John's direction, raising a hand adorned by his brother's rosary in the air. "I'd buy you a drink, Johnny, but don't think you're my type." "How dare you…you-", John barely managed to get any words out when he took in the Deputy's outfit, "Is my brother A JOKE to you?!" "Why, YES. YES. YES.", Hartley screamed back, "You love that word dontcha, Johnny? He is a JOKE. And let's face it, I'm wearing the look BETTER." Sabrina made it into the space that people had cleared out in anticipation of a fight breaking out, gliding between the two swiftly, knowing well enough that either men were close to unraveling and doing something drastic. "Kid.", she warned, feet planted firmly while feeling John's approach behind her, "Don't." Her gut told her she had a bigger chance at reasoning with him since Whitehorse was the one who always dealt with Eden's Gate's ruthless lawyer.

"Move, Gray.", his blue eyes were clear, signaling he wasn't nowhere near his boiling point as his fingers wrapped around her upper arm, ready to move her aside in sign of danger. Like hell I will move. "You came on OUR LAND. BROKE-" "FUCKING LEAVE MY BAR.", Mary May cut in, drawing everyone's eyes to herself, to the shotgun gripped in her hands, "RIGHT FUCKING NOW." "You…sinner.", John's rage switched target for a breath, "You've learned nothing, have you, Mary May?" "OUT.", her blue eyes narrowed, "Before I create more holes into your body since you seem to love those." "Look at you. All of you.", Calahan let out a dark laugh as John continued his speech, "Spreading the sin. Turning your backs on Eden. When the Collapse is on our doorstep."

A cacophony of curses echoed back from the crowd, furious stares zeroing behind Sabrina, and all she could imagine was the confrontation turning into a real bloodbath and how Whitehorse would chastise all of them for failing to stop it. With her thoughts getting darker by the second, she spun around, a pair of angry blue eyes settling on hers, "Mr. Seed." Something flew past her head, crashing into the wall and making her duck down on instinct. A bottle smashed into pieces, aimed at John. "How DARE-", he yelled again, but only managed to get two words out before she was cupping a hand over his mouth and pushing him out of the bar, door slamming shut behind her as the chilly air hit her at once. "Please, just leave.", she removed her palm off his face and placed herself between him and the entrance, the exterior lights of the bar dancing across his skin.

"You-", John stopped himself, a shaky breath leaving him as he regarded her, "Do you even know what he did?" "Is it worth getting hurt over? That bottle was just the beginning." He advanced forward again, expecting her to budge, allow him entry. She did none of that, unwavering while he drew near enough she could smell him - an expensive cologne drifting off him, stark contrast to most of the Project's members odors. "Go home, Mr. Seed." John shook his head, set on taking things too far, "He broke into my brother's home, took his belongings, and is wearing his clothes as a costume. They're all drunk and mocking him, and all he stands for on social media." "And you're sober and can be the bigger man by walking away." His eyes ran over her face, silence taking over as the party inside the bar continued like nothing had even happened.

"Are you wearing me as a costume, too?" "It's just a shirt, costumes are optional." "Good, because I'm not a-" "Go home.", she tried again, gentler that time around, nodding towards the truck he hadn't even bothered to park, instead stopping it in the middle of the road in his angry spell. "I'm not leaving without Joseph's bible." Sabrina nodded, "I will be right back, don't do anything, okay?" She didn't wait for him to respond, rushing back into the bar where the celebration was back in full swing with Hartley grinding against a blonde in a fairy costume. Laughter carried around her as she reached the bar and grabbed the bible, ignoring Mary May's string of questions with her mind set on solving the issue, ensuring the night didn't end in disaster. "Here.", she announced the second she was back outside, exchanging the worn copy of Joseph's Word to John. "I won't let him get away with this. Hartley should be upholding the law.", he gritted out and spun around, striding off back to his vehicle as she finally released the breath she had been holding.

Whatever relief she experienced began dissipating when seconds ticked by and he didn't drive off, instead rounding his truck in the dark, a faint light bouncing around as he examined something. "Somebody slashed my tires, Deputy. All four.", his voice carried over the quiet night. "What?" In a couple of steps, she was standing by his truck, his phone illuminating a jaded cut in the front tire. He huffed, "Leave, you say? Leave? They won't let me." "I'm-" "Sorry? Are you really, Deputy?" "You can call someone to pick you up…", she wrapped her arms around herself, the cold finally getting through her thin shirt. John shoved his phone back into his jeans pocket, "Absolutely not." "I don't know what to say, Mr. Seed." Reality was she had allowed herself a night to go out and have fun, and now she was stuck placating a hostile individual who in ways had every reason to feel bereaved.

His gaze casted behind her, aimed at the bar, making her worry he was contemplating having another go at Calahan and hunting down whoever had deflated his tires. "I can drive you home.", the words came out in a rush, her willingness to help getting her in trouble not for the first time. All she got was silence, his expression hard to read in the dark, so she pointed behind him, "My truck is over there." "That's how every horror movie starts.", he muttered back. "I thought your c-", she shook her head to dismiss what he would have no doubt taken as an insult, "Never mind." "What?" "Nothing, Mr. Seed. Would you like me to drive you home?" She took his nod as an 'Yes' and quickly moved past his truck, headed for her own as she sneaked a glance over her shoulder to assure he was following. Sabrina was the first to climb in, reaching over to unlock the passenger side door for him, but John stood frozen next it, a look of suspicion washing over his features.

"This feels like a trap." She gritted her teeth before forcing a smile his way, "You're welcome to walk home then, Mr. Seed. Some fresh air won't hurt ya.", then leaned back into her seat as she waited for him to make his choice. At the end, his pride won, and he got in reluctantly, clutching his brother's bible between his fingers as he slammed the door shut. "I carry a knife on me.", he warned as she started the Bronco, pulling out of the parking spot just as a person emerged from the shadows from the side of the Spread Eagle, the twinkling lights picking up their light blonde hair. Oakley. With her hatred of John, chances were she was the one that had struck while he was too busy inside the bar. "I do, too.", Sabrina retorted while he reached out and changed the radio station to the one Eden's Gate owned and used for propaganda.

Most of the drive to his house passed in silence, only disturbed by the way-too-cheerful choral songs. Every once in a while, she'd spare a quick look in his direction, catching him staring at her, too, while the tension in the small space only grew. The next time she did it, she found him flipping through the bible like she had done, his hands freezing when he got to the picture. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as he plucked the photograph and examined it. There was no shocked exclamation, no cursing in surprise like Oakley had done. John remained stoic while he stared at the picture his brother clearly valued enough to use as a bookmark in what looked like a well-read paperback. The picture was of a woman. A member of his cult. The one that was worried about his wellbeing and had enough influence over him to convince Joseph to call the police. There was a reason why both Mary May and Oakley eyed the hidden photograph with interest, why they spent a while speculating over the story surrounding Mercy.

Sabrina rolled to a stop in the driveway of the ranch, fully expecting John to jump out of her truck as soon as it wasn't moving with how extremely quiet he'd been. Instead, he remained seated, staring at his brother's bible, his features twisted into a frown. "Have yourself a good night.", she muttered, hoping it would be enough to pull him out of whatever stupor had taken over him and get him out of her vehicle. "Joseph keeps that bible on his bedside table.", he whispered, thumb brushing over the worn-out cover, "And he had the picture-" His words died down abruptly as if he suddenly remembered himself, then returned to looking out through the windshield into the darkness outside of the car, only disrupted by the Bronco's headlights. "It's none of my-" "Did you feel it, too?", John interrupted her, blue eyes moving to hers, "Even now."

A part of her warned her to mind her business, but curiosity won over it, "Felt what?" "That pull. The electricity." She said nothing, knowing her opinion were to either lie or admit he was somewhat right, which no doubt would be an ego boost to him. Truth was, something obscure, palpable hung between them, charging the air, growing stronger the closer he'd been. It doesn't matter. "Goodnight.", Sabrina repeated again and leaned over to open the door for him and make her stance crystal clear. The move was a mistake on its own because she hesitated, hand coming to rest on the door handle as his scent invaded her senses once more. "You want me to go?", he asked, watching her closely. "Yes."

Yet her fingers refused to obey, to swing the door open, prompt him to leave. Tattooed hand wrapped around hers to lift it between them, the interior light of her truck illuminating the top of his palm. The black ink that covered it. She was convinced she had stopped breathing when she pulled his arm closer, making sure she wasn't imagining things. That the tattoo her fingers were tracing was the same. That it was real, what she'd seen again and again. "Sabrina?", confusion swooped into his tone, mirroring hers. "I feel it.", her confession was barely audible, but clearly enough for him to make a choice, "It changes nothing." His eyes darkened, darting to her lips before he cupped her cheek with his free hand, "No matter. I'm still going to kiss you." No part of what he had said was a question, but she nodded anyway despite her better judgment as he leaned in, mouth covering hers.

His lips moved over her own slowly, a tingle climbing up her spine at the contact while her rational side screamed for her to push him away, no matter who he might be in her visions. It's him. Her hand braced against his chest, moving up on its own before grasping the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. It was then that she returned the kiss fully, lips parting as his own tongue darted out, a groan leaving him at the granted access. His taste took over her system while he set out on exploring her mouth, fingers intertwining with hers. A muffled tud broke the spell between them, making John pull back, staring at her intently with hunger written all over his face. "I should go. Be good." She nodded, but his hold of her hand only tightened, signaling he was torn, not exactly feeling the words. "Thing is… I don't want to.", he confirmed, licking his lips and making her wonder if he was tasting her.

"I don't, either." His gaze shifted to his feet, where Joseph's book had tumbled down onto the floor of her car before returning back to hers. "This is probably going to come back to bite me.", he uttered out, "Most definitely actually, Deputy. But… I'm asking you to come inside. See where this takes us." Her eyebrow rose up at his bold invitation, "I must have misheard you." "You didn't." Sabrina forced a laugh, "Don't you people have a rule about this?" "We do, quite frankly.", he nodded quickly, "I'm doing this despite it." "What would your brother think?", she pushed further, expecting him to fold, remember himself, and the doctrine forced upon each member. One, he clearly didn't respect enough. "What would Whitehorse think about Deputy Hartley committing a crime on private property last night?" It was the lawyer in him, the negotiator set on getting what he wanted, peeking through.

Her gaze narrowed, "What are you implying?" "We're both facing a dilemma, Deputy, toeing a line, you're keeping Hartley's secrets, covering for him. But there's a simple question - what do you want?" To head home and not get involved in a messy situation, especially after how you acted at the bar. "For you to kiss me again.", a satisfied smirk came over him at her answer, and he let go of her hand, only so he could open his door. "Come then.", he called out as he jumped down onto the gravel, gesturing for her to follow suit. His door slammed shut as she turned off the Bronco's engine and exited, rounding the truck where he met her halfway and took hold of her arm again. "One rule.", she muttered at his back as he pulled her along towards the ranch's main entrance, the overhead light coming on to life at their approach.

"What?" "You won't make a fuss about Calahan's indiscretion." He sighed like it physically pained him to let Hartley off the hook, "Fine. But this would be the first and last time." A small victorious smile danced across her lips as his hand wrapped around the doorknob and pushed his front door open, causing her to blink in shock, "You don't lock your doors, either? Of course, it runs in the family." Darkness ruled over the house aside from a dim light spilling out from the room ahead of them. "I wasn't exactly in the best mindset when I left.", John explained, leading her forward past a dining table and a lit stone fireplace that was providing the aforementioned illumination and separated the large open space in two. He spun around when he reached the other side of it, hand landing on her waist to drag her into him, "We're doing this?"

Her nod was all he needed to fulfill her previous wish, lips descending over hers as he took a couple of steps backward until he was lined with the couch that faced the fireplace and he lowered his body onto the leather surface, bringing her down with him. She straddled his lap on instinct, sinking further into the kiss while his fingers traveled beneath her shirt, coming to rest just at the edge of her bra. Like he had done before, he broke their liplock, leaning back to regard her as his hand made it past the lace garment, cupping her breast. "Look at you,", she said before lowering her mouth to his and whispering, "sinning." He pinched her nipple in warning, "Haven't even begun." A surprised yelp left her when John shifted until he was lying on top of her, undoing her jeans as he held her gaze and dragged them down her legs enough to have better access. "You want to stop, you tell me.", he instructed before he stole another kiss, hand moving from her waist down her abdomen and beneath her underwear.

One finger pushed inside her, swiveling into her wetness, more pooling at his touch and the satisfied growl that broke free from him. "More.", Sabrina ordered, buckling against his palm to get more friction to her clit before he complied, adding another digit to the mix as he began pumping in and out of her heat. "You're dripping for me." "Yes.", the word made it past her lips before she could think better of it, a grin appearing on his face as he repeated the movement again. Slowly that time, tantalizing her, hinting at his plan. "John.", she groaned in annoyance, "Don't you dare go there." He shook his head, "Say it again." "No." "Again and you're getting another finger." "He was right. You are weird during sex." "Who?", his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as his hand halted inside her. She rolled her eyes, "Calahan."

"Why am I not surprised the pest was talking about me." He resumed the previous infuriating pace, prolonging giving her what she wanted. "Say it, Deputy.", John repeated, and when she shook her head in defiance, he added, "I'd sweeten the deal." "How?", she moaned out when his thumb brushed against her clit, adding pressure before retreating. "Another finger.", he dropped a kiss across her lips, "My mouth. And then…" She hated how his talking alone had an effect on her, turning her on. "Then what?" He took his time considering the question before whispering, "You get to ride me." "And if I don't?" "Mmm..", his mouth lowered to her neck, sucking on the tender skin as his fingers kept the same slow pace, while her arousal grew, dripping down his hand, "I take my time. Wear you down. And, be assured, I'd enjoy every minute of it, Sabrina."

"Once." "Hm?" "I'd only say it once, don't be pulling any dirty tricks on me, Seed." "Deal.", he muttered and halted his teasing altogether, waiting for her to follow through with her part of the agreement. A shuddered breath left her when his thumb circled her clit again as encouragement, "Yes." "Such a freeing word.", John rose up, clutching her panties and pulling them down past her knees. His lips lowered to her belly, kissing a path over it while his hands spread her thighs apart, positioning her the way he wanted her. "No games." He tsk-tsked, "Where would be the fun then?" Her protests were cut short when his mouth found her center, tongue licking away at her arousal and drawing more out of it as result. "You taste so sweet. To think I almost walked away.", he remarked, peeking at her from between her legs, before diving back in for more.

Her noises urged him on as she climbed towards a powerful climax, three fingers entering her like he had promised, lips wrapping around her clit and adding much needed pressure. She rocked against his hand, sinking further into the pleasure, almost forgetting who was delivering it to her, how they had ended up there in the first place. His name ripped off her lips as she came, his thrusts picking up and only heightening the sensation. "That's it. Give in. Let it all pour out for me.", she ignored how close he sounded to his preachings in the cursed broadcasts, "There's more where that came from." He moved up her body, little tremors still coursing through her limbs as he kissed her, giving her a taste of herself. "Can you handle more?", he challenged, rising up on his heels while his hands worked on undoing his belt and jeans to leave him down to his underwear, his erection's outline pressing against the material, begging for release.

"You tryin' to trick me?" He smirked, "Nothing of sorts." "You haven't delivered on everything yet.", Sabrina reminded him as she got up too, fingers grasping the waistband of his boxers, and pulling them down. "Protection.", he mumbled to himself, "I don't-" "What… you don't do this a lot?" His look of disbelief made her chuckle, "Absolutely not." "I'm on the pill." Her hand wrapped around him, stroking his cock a couple of times as he contemplated the idea. "Yes.", he answered finally, sitting back down onto the couch, still mostly clothed aside from his nether regions. Sabrina stripped off her boots, pants, and underwear completely to ensure nothing would obstruct her mobility, his eyes following her the whole time, tongue darting out to lick his lips. With her clothes out of the way, she threw her leg over his hip, straddling him as her hand lined his tip with her entrance.

She sank down onto him slowly, relishing every inch, judging by his measured breathing and how his features twisted in concentration, he was doing the same. Trying to maintain his control. "So tight.", he gritted out, "You gonna move for me, Deputy?" She rocked against him slowly, her sleakness making her glide up and down his shaft with ease, the sounds of pleasure filling the darkened room paired with the crackling of the fire. "You're killing me here.", he whined against her lips, fingers gripping her hips to dictate the pace. "Riding you. It's what you said." "Yes." "So, let me do that. Have patience." "Deputy…" She grasped his hands, moving them to her chest, "If you want something to hold, the girls are feeling a bit ignored." "We can't have that.", John caught up quick, unbuttoning her shirt while she resumed riding him.

Her bra came undone next as he made work of the front clasp in a blink, baring her completely to him. "I will rectify the situation.", he vowed in a serious tone, his mouth swooping down to her chest, paying attention to each breast individually. His compliance caused her to move faster, arousal coating his length as she squeezed her muscles around him in attempts to coax his orgasm out. "You feel so good for a Seed. Who could have known…", she teased and let out a yelp when his teeth grazed her nipple at the jab. It wasn't long before she stumbled over the edge, her walls clenching around him and drawing his own climax, making him let go with a groan. Her name fell from his lips as he spilled inside her. "Oh, John.", she muttered quietly against his neck, euphoria overwhelming her system. "Bold and brave?", he chuckled, "It seems somebody's been listening to our radio station." A hand swatted at his chest, "You're totally ruining the moment."

He hummed in disapproval, arms encircling her body as she snuggled into him more, "Sleepy?" "A little bit." "My bed awaits." "You're asking me to actually stay over?" A series of kisses covered her collarbone, tracing her butterflies tattoo, "I'm far from done with you." She broke out of his embrace, an emptiness settling between her legs as she rose up, convincing herself she couldn't allow him to take things even further than he already had. "Deputy.", he called out, still seated on the couch, watching her while she gathered her clothes from the ground and huffed at his release running down her thigh and making it impossible to get dressed without creating a mess. His gaze met hers, shadows and light dancing across his features and partly obsecuring his expression, "What?" "You're not going to need them.", she opened her mouth to speak, but he waved her off, getting up too and snatching her clothes from her to drop them on the couch, "We're going to my bedroom."

"John.", his name was paired with a sigh at his tone that left no room for arguments. He made quick work of taking off his own boots, jeans, and boxers, pulling her in by her waist as his lips hovered over hers, "Go. Run. And you can keep thinking back to this moment, wishing you made a different choice, or you could be honest about what you want… How much you want it." His hand grasped her backside, and she could feel him hardening between them again while he kissed her, coming for breath only to add, "I'd like to fuck you on an actual bed instead of having my sweaty skin sticking onto old leather… might as well be comfortable seeing how I broke so many rules already." The idea he actually cursed out loud made her snort, "Fuck me?" "That's the plan. Just say 'Yes'. Are you staying?" Of course you're fishing for your favorite word again. Silence settled around them, heavy with possibility, with the realization he was infuriatingly correct she'd regret it.

He brushed her hair out of her face, "Your eyes are so expressive, you know that? I could basically see the battle within. Which option is winning?" Her hands traveled up his chest, locking around his neck, "Yes. Happy?" What she got as reply was a triumphant grin before he hoisted her up, legs wrapping around his waist as he rounded the couch, moving with determination with her in his arms. "Someone's in a rush. How long has it been?", she joked while he took the stairs two at a time, getting to the second floor of the ranch in couple of beats. "Way too long, Deputy." Darkness engulfed them as he headed down a hallway, pushing a door open with his free hand that wasn't holding onto her. It was where he finally dropped her to her feet, the coldness of the hardwood floors meeting as it shut with a click behind them. John was on the move again, his footsteps being her only indicator in the pitch black, then a table lamp next to his bed came to life, illuminating the space and his nearing form with faint glow.

Her eyes took in her surrounding, bouncing from his bed, sheer curtains and wooden interiors of the room, to the ordinary furniture and two doors leading who knew where before they settled on his chest as he discarded his shirt and reached out for her again. A combination of scars and tattoos marred his skin. A small old key hanging around his neck. "Not what you expected?", he asked when his hand found her cheek, caressing her skin gently. Your bedroom or the fact you're someone I've been seeing for years? "I don't know what I expected." He nodded and moved onto her own shirt, pushing it down her arms until it pooled at her feet, her lace bra following in its wake. "Definitely weren't dressed as me, eh, Deputy?" She gave him a pointed look, "I told you-" "You'd look good in my shirt. I wouldn't mind you stealing that." Her laugh was a surprised one, "Careful what you wish for… I might be planning my costume for next year already."

"Beautiful.", he whispered as his eyes ran over her naked body, thumb breezing over her bottom lip and slipping into her mouth, eyes darkening when she sucked on it, "Patience. Remind me of that, in case I forget." Sabrina nodded, releasing his digit with a pop, and he pushed her backward, mouth clashing into hers when her legs met the edge of his bed. The soft matress engulfed her body as he settled over her, hand coming to rest beside her head to keep his weight off her while the other traveled down her stomach and slipped inside her for a brief moment before retreating. Her palms braced against his chest, running over the hard planes as her thighs fell open more, urging him to act. Anticipation swam within her when his fingers grasped his lenght, his tip brushing across her wetness a couple of times before finally pushing in slowly despite how wet she was and the desire she could see in his eyes.

A stray piece of hair had fallen over his forehead, and she smoothed them away, muttering, "Fill me up already." "I'm trying to be patient here. Not embarrass myself.", his expression was focused, like he refused to fully give in, act on his urges, let his composure slip. "Fuck patient. Better yet, fuck me as promised." He blinked, considering her words before thrusting all the way in and ripping a moan out of her as her walls enveloped him, and more followed when he began to move. "I'm starting to think going after the Deputy tonight wasn't the worst idea I've had to date.", he groaned against her mouth while at the same time he threw her leg over his shoulder, sinking in deeper into her at the new angle. "He sure would die laughing if he knew how the night unfolded after I broke you two apart." "He'd be obnoxious about, wouldn't he?", he chimed in, "Probably claim it was what he had planned all along to get me back for the previous time."

She couldn't help but smile at his annoyance, "Possibly." "Most definitely.", John insisted, pairing his next words with a hard thrust, "I couldn't stop thinking about you today." "Yeah?" She did her hardest to match his movements as a climax began to build within her, and her legs parted to take more of him. "Yes.", he gritted out, a giggle escaping her at the memory of Calahan's theory about his habits in bed, "Something amusing, Sabrina?" "No." There was doubt in his gaze, but he let her answer slip, emphasizing each word with a rock of his hips, "First time I saw you up close… I imagined it so many times." Her eyes widened at the bold confession and idea he had been thinking of her to begin with, "For how long?" "Since you moved here, but I had to be good, telling myself I wasn't missing anything."

In ways Hartley had been right about the signs and his theories about John's frustration. Regret slipped over his features, prompting her to cup his bearded cheek, "I'm here now." "That you are, and I plan on making up for that lost time.", he said with conviction, slowing his pace as his hand slipped between them to rub her clit. With a couple of flicks across it paired with his thrusts, the release she could feel twisting and twirling inside her came to a crescendo. His name rolled off her tongue, causing him to smirk while he continued to move, head dipping down to whisper in her ear and sending a shiver all over her body while her hands fisted the satin sheets beneath her, "Think you can come again before I do?"

Minutes later she found herself completely spent, laying snuggled in the crook of his arm while her fingers traced a lazy pattern across his chest. "Three times.", he noted with pride, hand running down her back under the soft covers, "I'm thinking we can break that record next time." Next time? Sabrina ignored the off-hand comment, assuming he hadn't meant anything by it, that he was just still basking in his own climax after demonstrating how dead set he was on holding off until he couldn't physically anymore. "Should I expect you to show up at the Sheriff's tomorrow?" "Today.", he corrected her, "And no, Deputy. I promised, didn't I? Hartley is off the hook until whatever he does next comes back to bite him." Her grin was concealed against his neck and she placed a kiss on his skin, "Thank you."

"Does that mean you're due to work in few hours?" "Mhm.", she hummed absently, "Why?" "I might pay you a visit instead.", his caress was slowly lulling her to sleep, especially with how relaxed she felt as she laid in the embrace of someone considered enemy of the County. When she said nothing, he took her silence as agreeance to his idea, adding, "We could see that the theft case gets closed." Her fingers froze against his chest as it was toying with the metal key nestled between his pecks, eyes lifting up to meet his baby blues, "I never opened one, you wanted to handle things yourself, remember? Play detective." "I will think of something else.", he said nonchalantly, "Like my truck's slashed tires… All four of them, a serious enough offense." "John." "Yes?" "This…", she paused, wondering what she had gotten herself into, "it can't happen again."

It was then that she got her first confirmation he had been serious upon mentioning 'a next time', coming in the form of a determined look he gave her before uttering out, "We shall see about that, Deputy." The same one he wore each time he argued with Whitehorse, refusing to back down no matter how much the Sheriff tried to placate him. If how impossible to shake off he had proven to be when it came to Calahan, she didn't dare think what it would take for him to give up after their night together. A part of her didn't know if she wanted him to, no matter how disastrous the consequences promised to be.

Tagging, @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @onehornedbeast @theelderhazelnut @cassietrn @madparadoxum @voidika @corvosattano @unholymilf @purplehairsecretlair @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @florbelles @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @the-silver-chronicles @nightbloodbix @clicheantagonist @wrathfulrook @harmonyowl @jillvalentinesday @shegetsburned @sstewyhosseini and anyone with something to share <3

[snugglesquiggle]

I have a question, how do you structure your stories? like Hostile Takeover for example. What is your technique on plotting?

there are two answers to this question. “do as i say”, and “do as i actually do”

here’s the most direct and unhelpful to this question: to plot stories i think really hard about what would be cool to happen in the next chapter. then i write five chapters and now journey and destination are both unrecognizable and my crops are dying

for all that it doesn’t much matter, Hostile Takeover actually has the unique distinction of being the first story i’ve both outlined and polished. while i have a lot of stories that are written like stories rather than summaries, and while i also have a lot of outlines, usually i end up with one or the other

on 2023-10-31, not long after reading Tessaract, i had a thought about how to structure a J/Uzi dynamic. (it was your classic ‘what if Uzi reminded J of Tessa?’ idea, but back in 2023, i didn’t see anyone else thinking of that yet)

i noodled on the thought some, ended up crossbreeding this idea with an old V/Uzi idea that didn’t pan out, and the pieces started clicking together

now, to be clear, at this point i still had no plans to write this. i wasn’t a fanfiction writer. instead, i pulled open up a brainstorming channel on discord and starting typing. i didn’t stop typing till long after it had grown far, far too long to post on discord

i wrote 10k words that day, in fact. if you’ve been following me for a while, you’ll know this is a pretty common pattern. i think of a story idea, lock into hyperfocus, and yap a whole novella trying to explain why the story idea is so cool

if you dig around on my site, you can find a few example of outlines written in this fashion. the fact that i went on to flesh out that outline with actual prose is what seems most miraculous about hostile takeover — without exception, this is the step that has killed every other outline

but i’m really getting off track here. you asked about how to structure stories, so circling back to talk about my outline process rather than my fleshing-out process seems prudent. (but put a pin here, we’ll come back to this later because there’s a big caveat to mention)

also i should probably put a read more thingy here for the people scrolling past this

there’s a difficulty in me talking honestly about outlining, because i barely structure my stories, at least consciously. i first notice an idea is really cool, and i think about who in my friends list i’m going to subject to my bullshit explain it to, and it naturally adopts an “okay, but before i can get to that, you first need to hear about this so that everything hits just right” and on and on until i’m starting off ten pages away from the actual point.

but i guess there is a structure even in that, because i’m not consciously thinking about these sentences i’m writing either, yet that’s not because i don’t know how to structure nouns and verbs, it’s that i’ve spent so long thinking about them that i don’t need to anymore.

there’s something deceptively, lede-buryingly coy about me acting like i have any difficulty talking about outlining. i think my tumblr audience largely doesn’t know, but i’ve been writing essays about how to write for years. outlining might be the thing i’ve written about the most!

the three most relevant are, “Ur-Development”, “Outlines as Temporarily Embarrassed Drafts”, and to a lesser extent, “Pacing is Madness”

Embarrassed Drafts is the one i’d suggest you read, if you’re going to read one, because it’s specifically my response to a friend asking me a very similar question (i.e. “how does one start plotting a story”)

Ur-Dev is an old essay, written two years ago a this point, and i’m not linking it because it’s a bad essay. mediocrely written, and i don’t fully agree with its prescriptions as much as i once did, but it was still a major turning point in how i thought about stories. it’s essentially my take on the hero’s journey (part of why i dislike it)

but the outlining essay was written before i wrote hostile takeover, so i have about a year’s more experience now. so here’s how i would boil it down in 2024

telling a story is just raising then answering a question using drama and detail. now, drama comes down to how you write characters, detail comes down to how you write prose (or render images) — but the questions themselves? that’s what plot is

vaguest of all, this is questions like “what happens next” or “how does it end?”

but these questions suck because they ask you to draw the rest of the owl. the really good questions are ones like “how does this happen” or “why is she like that” — they’re directly prompts for you to explain

now, i don’t think think in terms of questions. like i said, i think of cool stuff first

if you read or watch videos about how to write, you’ll quickly run into the idea of “plotters” and “pantsers”, and i think the essence of this distinction is whether the answers or the questions come first

and how best to answer this ask depends on which you are — do you have a premise that you want to explore and find a story in, or do you have a payoff that you want to lead the reader to appreciate?

i’m ambidextrous myself, i’ve gotten good results from either approach, but i identify as a planner just because i can never feel comfortable starting paragraph unless i already know what the last word is.

but both kinds of writers are producing the same thing in different orders. the structure that arises when you raise and answer questions has three steps: presentation, transition, and conclusion. (or if you prefer, beginning, middle and end)

to make this all less abstract, let’s sketch out an example. i have a whole vault of juzi fic ideas i dont have time to write but one of them is based on a simple idea: what if Uzi pointed her gun a little lower when she fires the first shot in the pilot, taking out N’s core?

and since i’m the one writing it, this will lead back to juzi somehow. that already gives us two tentpoles to structure a story around

my first piece of advice for the presentating the beginning is that stories should start in a state of ambiguity or falsehood. what every the story is about, whatever the big question might be, in the beginningwe must not know the final answer.

to see what it looks like if you don’t do this, imagine we wrote the fic like this. Uzi kills N. she goes “holy hell” and does a fistbump, and walks back to the outpost high on her accomplishment. she tells her dad and her classmates about how she killed a murder drone, and they’re all impressed. she goes to bed feeling super cool. the end.

now in fairness, it’s all about the execution. this could very well be a good fic! (i think there’s a nice oneshot to be written in the sheer novelty of uzi actually doing what she planned to in the pilot and winning her dad’s respect and stuff). but i think a good fic would only be good by virtue of adding stuff that’s not there in this short summary.

this summary isn’t a good story (arguably not a story at all), and there can exist one-paragraph ideas that are good and story-shaped

the problem is that all those scenes of uzi walking back and talking to other drones don’t add or explore anything that wasn’t presented at the start with her killing N. it doesn’t inform the audience of anything or transform the ideas, it’s just a repetition of the “Uzi killed N” core idea

here’s an improvement. it goes mostly the same — Uzi’s thrilled, the whole colony is proud of her, everything seems great, but then that night when she goes to sleep, there’s a tremor of unease. she’s remembering the battle without the thrill of digital adrenaline, and did she see that yellow cross flicker to fear a frame before the end? that night, she has nightmares, witnessing silver hair and yellow eyes torn apart as she watches.

this is would be a pretty cliche story, but i do think it’s a story, and it illustrates what i’m talking about. here, we’ve decided the core question is “how does Uzi feel about killing N?” and the this fic starts with a false answer to that question (“she’d think it’s awesome”), and builds to the real answer (“she’d actually feel a bit guilty about it”)

but here’s another angle. uzi killed N the same way she canonically killed J at the end of the pilot — this implies that after Uzi leaves, we’ll wind up with eldritch N worming it up. we know that material collection starts off pretty stealthy, so we might imagine that when J and V return, N’s corpse has already skittered off.

J could be thrilled to be rid of a synergistic liability (or maybe she knows he has backups), but V would be shattered. her whole reason for playing along with killing workers was to protect N. maybe she spends night after night searching for sign of him, or sinking into a depression, but either way J immediately grow frustrated with her tanking productivity.

meanwhile in the outpost, there’s celebrations at Uzi’s accomplishments — but one drone is giving her a very significant look. for once, Lizzy and Doll aren’t laughing at Uzi. Lizzy’s smiling with all the rest of them, of course, but Doll has a calculating stare. that night, when Uzi goes to her room, Doll’s waiting for her, red eyes shining the dark, a cheerleader jumpscare.

Doll has a question. she watched her parents be killed by murder drones. but her father managed to snap a picture of it. she shows that to Uzi, asking if the goth killed that drone. she hadn’t. Uzi expected disappointment, but Doll smiles. excellent, she says. i’m going to kill this one — you may assist me. Uzi’s indignant — assist her? excuse me? she’s the hero here! Doll doesn’t respond, simply stating to meet in the locker room after cheer practice if she’s interesting.

i’m getting carried away here, so let me stop before i outline a whole fic. the point here was to illustrate the other way to draw a proper story out of a premise.

more complex than correcting a false answer to the question, you can extrapolate a chain of answers. characters react and make plans and new scenarios arise as a consequence of what happened before.

what happens when j & v arrive to an empty nest? what happens when Doll and Uzi work together to take down V? in order to answer these questions, you have to go step by step

now, there’s hidden magic even in this tutorial. i could have written this scenario any number of ways — i chose to have Uzi make it home, instead of encountering V and J in the spire, or along the way back. i chose to have J and V react in a way that pit them against each other. i chose to have Doll want to recruit Uzi rather than be jealous, and i specifically chose to have her appear all creepy-like in Uzi’s room.

part of plotting stories is coming up with these ideas and making these choices as to how events progress. some of these choices make for better stories, but it’s hard to give much specific advice for learning how to generate and evaluate these idea-seeds — “keep reading and writing stories” will get you there, though

i do want to highlight how i already i can see neat beats to steer this nascent story towards. for instance, what does Doll and Uzi’s partnership look like on the every day level? wouldn’t it be interesting if, riding on the wave of fame and appreciate Uzi gains from her heroics, Lizzy and Doll tried to integrate the goth into their clique — genuinely preparing her to be popular?

but ideas are honestly cheap. the beginning of the story is all about presenting interesting questions to the reader. the middle of the story is all about exploring, developing, and working out the answers to that question.

the word i used earlier is transition, but transition to what? you can’t really understand middles or what their purpose is until you understand endings.

many centuries ago, the greek philosopher aristotle said something i love to repeat. the conclusion to a story should be surprising, yet inevitable. (i think there’s a single word that captures this spirit: ingenious. or perhaps even just creative)

this is why i insisted that a story should start in a state of ambiguity or outright falsehood regarding its core question. the final answer can’t be any surprise if it’s something we already knew, so we should be uncertain or falsely sure until the very end.

that can’t be all of it. after all, “Uzi kills N. will she go home or stay in the spire?” is a question we start off unsure about. but this can’t be a core question, because there’s nothing surprising nor inevitable her choice either way. it’s filler worth eliding over, as i did in my summaries above.

except we can make it a more interesting question. what if Uzi wanted to scavenge more than the railgun macguffin from the murder drones lair — what if the murder drones had tons of useful supplies that she could bring back to the outpost. …but her railgun is in cooldown and as she looks around the base, she sees clear signs there are other murder drones.

so, is Uzi the type to risk it, or play it safe? posed that way, suddenly it not only seems like she would stick around in the spire, but it also feels like it’s satisfying writing to resolve the dilemma this way.

…except, remember that she nearly died in her fight with N. remember that he stuck her hand with his nanite acid, and this time he’s not around to kiss it better. uzi can barely hold her railgun, let alone scavenge for supplies.

(her return to the outpost will play out differently, won’t it? instead of celebrations the next morning, she’d probably stagger in, exhausted from pain and oil loss, wake up in the repair bay with her concerned father giving her a stern talking to.)

but i digress again. you might notice that i’ve incidentally been demonstrating what it takes to craft a middle here. story transitions are all about drawing out the reasons why a plot point ought to go one way or the other, pitting them against each other and crowning the victor.

payoff needs to be earned; transitions are about building toward the conclusion. if stories about about answering a core question, why not just write out the question and the answer? “what happens if Uzi kills N? she’d feel guilty about it. the end.” that’s lame as fuck. you need the triumph and celebration, to see Uzi getting the recognition she always craved, so that when she lays down and feels that one atom of guilted unease tug at her, it lands like a poignant gutpunch in miniture.

middles are so hard because they serve two contradictory purposes. you have to convince the audience that this is all building toward the final conclusion, and you have the convince the audience that it’s not gonna turn out that way at all ;]

surprising, yet inevitable. too inevitable, and the audience loses interest in the predictable slog. too suprising, and the audience starts to think you’ve lost the plot and forgotten what the story is supposed to be about.

there’s another stumbling block for endings. remember worm N? what was i cooking with that? there’s a very similar version of this post where i never mentioned or thought of material collection at all, and just said Uzi kills N like she killed J in the pilot and continued plotting out the rest.

i can already tell you, i have ideas for where that story goes from there, and right now worm N doesn’t factor into any of them.

it’s a loose plot thread. sometimes, in the process of trying to answer one question, you raise another that you have no interest in answering. but the audience has no way of reading your intent, so they could be following along expecting a synthesized "Giggle." and never getting it.

really, there’s a whole host of missteps i probably should have brought up before now. sometimes, you try to raise a question and the readers dont catch it, or they don’t care for it. it’s not enough to ask “what if Uzi kills N?” (though fanfiction has the definite advantage that, because we’re murder drones superfans, we already care enough about these characters to be piqued by that alone). you have to convince the audience that this is a really interesting question, and they need to see where you’re going with this.

but i dont know how much of that is a question of plot stucture vs writing well generally.

so let’s start wrapping up this essay

you can explain a lot of otherwise finnicky writer-speak through this lens.

what is a hook? it’s the core question the story aims to resolve. it’s the protagonist’s goal, it’s the mystery, it’s the crazy what if scenario.

what are stakes? it’s the possible answers to the question presented early on, especially ones that that would be bad for the characters we’re invested in.

what is setup? it’s plot points and exposition that give the reader the pieces that’ll eventually click together into the final answer.

what is tension? it’s pieces that don’t fit; it’s setup for one of the bad ends specified by the stakes.

what is payoff? it’s when all the build up finally arrives, in spite of all the tension, at the answer promised by the hook.

so, what is my technique for plotting a story? start with the hook or the payoff. whichever one comes first, i know that the other has to be different, inverted via a surprising twist. then figure out what faultline of conflict runs between those two points. what interacting plotlines must collide to transform one to the other?

after that comes the detailed work of crafting lines of logic that follows that flow.

and this, finally is where i pull out the pin in that big caveat i mentioned thousands of words ago — this is where i finally start talking about Hostile Takeover.

i mentioned that i outlined Hostile Takeover from start to finish in one day, producing a 10k word first draft. but in a meaningful sense, that outline was not hostile takeover (on my computer, i now have it saved as “Lethal Acquisition”)

Hostile Takeover is 186k words, and barely covers the first thousand words of the outline. here’s what that looks like

Chapter 1

j&v are out hunting drones. v’s making a mess as usual, and j’s a bit annoyed at her splashing oil all over her. then, on the visor of one dead drone, the absolv glyph flashes. v gets super spooked and it leaves her off balance for the rest of the hunt and j ends up calling it early

back at the spire, j’s trying to do a debrief or postmortem of their last hunt but v is all of out of sorts, unresponsive. (she’s having flashbacks to cyn). this keeps going until j’s about to do something invasive — reboot her? mess with her configuration? — but n steps in to protect her, saying he’ll talk to her and get her back to normal without hacking her. j rolls her eyes, but leaves them to it.

j’s mad, and copes in a private room while straightening her hair. she rants to herself about their quota and how at this rate they’ll never make best team. n’ll fail, he usually does, and when he does then j can reformat v, but till then she’s stuck with two synergistic liabilities. fuck it, j will just go on a hunt on her own. she’s better than them anyway. she’ll fill their quota singlehandedly if she has to.

Chapter 2

j is interviewing the new disassembly drone. at first, she’s relieved at her team getting an extra hand, but it quickly becomes clear this drone is even more defective than v or n. in fact… a lot of this isn’t adding up. she’s missing the last few hours of her memory, one of her sensors is offline — this isn’t a disassembly drone, is it? j requests some data transfer so she can confirm the drone’s identity. uzi of course refuses, starts to run — but j easily overpowers her. with her sensors offline she cant be sure she didn’t just attack one of the company’s drones for no reason, so she checks uzi’s memory.

it’s becomes obvious this isn’t a murder drone, but she plays back her fight with the drone from another pov. she sees uzi’s shock at seeeing a murder drone. but her first thought was: pigtails? why does it have hair? why does it look so… immaculate? j’s laughs. because she’s just that great. but then her eye is caught by something else: the sick as hell—, excuse me, highly effective magnetically amplified blah blah

j steps out of uzi’s memories and sighs. with uzi pinned, she sighs and starts monologuing. uzi struggles to get up, but it’s ultimately in vain, so she has to suffer through it. uzi says, “i can’t believe i lost to the one murder drone on copper-9 who monologues. j’s like, you should feel honored, toaster. do you think i monologue for anyone? i’ve killed thirteen drones today. do you know how they died? she presses a claw to uzi’s throat.”snip, sip. i’m not v. i don’t make messes." “so why?” she holds up the railgun. “this. it’s a remarkably effective weapon. shoddy, unreliable, but the concept? if it were manufactured to jcjenson’s standard of quality… well. do you think your colony’s walls could withstand this?” uzi’s eyes hollow, then she’s like, “ha, outpost three has the finest doors in all of copper-9. my dad made them. do you think i’d create something that could destroy them?” “oh well, it doesn’t matter anyway. all of this is tragic preamble. it never mattered. because you’re a worker drone, and my orders are clear. you would have made a good disassembler.” “is that a compliment? just fucking bite me. i’m nothing like you.” “are we really so different? ha, what am i saying, of course we are.” j stabs uzi and it’s over.

Chapter 3

j’s dragging uzi’s body back to the corpse spire, so she notices when the absolv glyph flashes on her screen. “oh uzi, even in death you’re interesting.” instead of placing uzi with the other corpses, she stows her away in her room.

the next day, j’s flipping through the schematics she stole from uzi’s memories, trying to reproduce them and failing, growing increasingly frustrated. that worker drone wasn’t better than me. n stumbles across her like this, and he smiles. oh j, have you taken in interest in human technology? she snaps at him, then regrets it a moment later. say n… she contemplates giving him to specs to puzzle it out, then stops. nevermind. she doesn’t want to share uzi’s schematics. why?

v hasn’t had her fill of oil in a while now, and is getting hungry. she checks the spire’s corpses for dregs, most of them cold and congealed, or empty, but there’s one fresh, warm one, brimming with oil. did someone forget to drain this one? v doesn’t question her luck, tears off a limp and eagerly feed.

j walks in on this.

Chapter 4

seeing v feed on uzi, j attacks v. (in the course of the battle, she bites v and feels that familiar sour taste of another disassembler) j says “that was mine.” “ugh, someone’s stingy. aren’t we teammates?” “aren’t we disassembly drones? you wouldn���t be so hungry if you were doing your job. did n talk sense into you yet?” “you have no idea what you’re talking about. you think you’re in charge, but you don’t understand anything.” “i understand that i’ve given you an order. this drone is mine, and you are not to feed on it. am I clear? by disciplinary code 31c, insubordination will result in—” “i get it. i’m sure overheating is just what i need to get back to hunting. your drone tastes like shit anyway.” j glares at her, and v glares back. then she leaves.

j watches uzi’s corpse. the absolv symbol is faint, flickering. despite being dead, claw right through the motherboard, there’s still electricity humming through her. her oil is still warm. even in death. “oh uzi, uzi, uzi.”

n is bouncing a ball towards v while v occasionally, carelessly, knocks it back. despite her apparent disinterest, n is consistently able to catch it, and he whoops in joy. v sticks a knife through the ball when j shows up. “j”. “that’s captain j to you, serial designation v.” she rolls her eyes. “am i going to get flagged insubordinate for reminding you of something?” “why, it is foundational to jcjenson’s philosophy to maintain and open and receptive relationship between employ—” “that’s corporatespeak for no, right? i was thinking about what you said, j. we’re disassembly drones. so it seems odd to me that you haven’t disassembled that drone you keep in your room. you know that’s the whole point, right?” j lunges at v. (n watches on with concern.) “while we strive to remain open and receptive, I can’t but feel your reminder isn’t more than a dressed up personal attack on my intelligence and capability. and that—” “—is insubordination, yeah yeah. whatever j, that’s not the point and you know it. disassemble it. you know what happens if we don’t.” “what happens, v?” she asks sweetly. “you don’t know. neither of you know. neither of you remember. ugh. can you trust me, j?” “i trust results, v. there was a time, not too long ago, when i thought i could trust you. maybe we’ll go back to that.” “i’m not playing games, j. if you take too long it might be too late.” j grins. “that sounds like a lot of employee incentive, doesn’t it? get back to work, v.”

back in her room, j is calming her nerves by fixing her hair. she glances at uzi. she fixes uzi’s hair too. then, she connects to her system, and checks to see how her abberent processes are handling the lack of motherboard. she pings and gets a response. she’s excited (why? shouldn’t she disassemble uzi?), and queries the system for a log of activity and errors. and that’s when she finds op codes that are very familiar from diagnosing herself and her teammates, and never any worker drones. it’s repairing itself. it’s draining its oil reserves. just like us. “we really aren’t so different, are we? maybe jcjenson did send me a new teammate”. J feeds uzi some of her spare oil, piles on the parts of discarded drones hope it’s enough mass for repairs to commence.

what you’ll notice about this outline is that it’s mid as hell. all of the most interesting parts of HT aren’t here. now, some of the drafting process involved repurposing later beats earlier than expected (the first tessa flashback was at the start of chapter 6, acting as a sort of bridge between “act one” and “act two”; and N and V’s hunt together repurposes some ideas i planned to introduce in battle among a field of windmills) but that can’t explain all that bloat and sprawl.

it would be a understatement to say HT grew in the telling. it’s not so much outlined as loosely inspired by the outline.

i say that in the tone of a joke, but this represents my new outlook on what outlines are for. it’s not like guidelines in a sketch layer, where subsequent inking and rendering might refine bits of anatomy and tweak the pose while being defined traced over what came before. it’s a musician improvising new melodies and chords while playing an old standard.

the outline is the prototype, the test run. it’s a route from A (the hook) to B (the payoff), but it’s just one route through the landscape. it lets you get familiar with the terrain, spot some of the landmarks and hazards, but it’s a birds eye view; when you’re traveling on foot, you’re going to have to diverge, and you’re going to stop and smell the flowers.

the embellishments that define what HT really is are nonetheless the result of applying these principles at the lower level, though.

the outline called for an AS glyph to flash on a random drone’s screen just because. wouldn’t it be more of a payoff if it’s hidden in the catacombs beneath a church the squad has to battle to penetrate? and if there’s a whole spooky solver cult, that definitely suggests other plot developments, and this is how things compound and snarl

this post has gotten long. maybe, just maybe, i managed to convey a thing or two about how i plot stories.

thank you for the ask and for sitting through all that; i hope it wasn’t too long and rambling.

[aintnothinglikeadikrat]

And since I’m on the topic of the Black Altars and how they seem to allow the Lords in Black to manifest in the physical world, let me give my explanations for which Lord rules over which Altar.

(Keep in mind I personally don’t believe anything that started being influenced AFTER Miss Holloway got the Black Book would be one of the five listed in there. The Black Book is super old and it’s possible some of the old Black Altars fell out of use or got replaced)

!!SPOILERS FOR ALL OF HATCHETFIELD!!

WIGGLY: Lakeside Mall

This is self explanatory. It’s explicitly stated to be a Black Altar and it’s where he attempted to be born.

NIBBLY: the Old Waylon Place

I went over this in my last post about Black Altars. However it IS entirely possible that at some point the Waylon place fell out of use and there’s a new Black Altar not listed in the book.

TINKY: CCRP Headquarters

I’m not 100% on this, because the only reason it’s got the time travel properties in the first place is because of people trying to harness Tinky’s power in in the FoA/Time Bastard timeline, but it seems to me like that wouldn’t be possible if it wasn’t already an Altar (unless they somehow had the Black Book). I’m assuming it was built on someplace that used to be a Black Altar.

POKEY: The Starlight Theatre

We don’t know WHERE the Apotheosis comet landed in the NMT2 timeline but since that’s where it began in the TGWDLM timeline this is the best guess I can make. I’m presuming in both timelines it landed in the Theatre because:

A). Pokey presumably couldn’t just manifest without using the Altar if they’re so important

B). It fits with his whole Musical Theatre deal.

I 100% believe the Roller-Rama isn’t his altar. He was already manifested in the world when Otho was brought to the Roller-Rama and that place had no other supernatural properties besides him.

BLINKY: Hatchetfield High

I’m aware this is somewhat of a stretch but it’s the only Altar we know of that doesn’t have a clear link to a Lord in Black. Blinky’s whole deal is that he’s a voyeur, and the whole point of Watcher World is peer pressure and the constant feeling of observation. I’m not saying it’s perfect but it’s the best link I can make.

Important Sidenote: I wholeheartedly believe Watcher World isn’t his Black Altar and he only created it in a timeline after he manifested. We’ve seen him physically in Watcher World so it’s safe to assume he’s already been brought into the real world in that timeline.

Also, I’m like 99% sure Watcher World was supposed to be located somewhere in the Witchwoods (???) and the woods absolutely CANNOT be a Black Altar; they’re maintained by the Hatchetmen, the only real opposition to the followers of the Lords in Black, and all the psychic energy there is a result of their interference, presumably nothing to do with the Lords.

The caveat I have to this is it’s entirely possible that Watcher World is a Black Altar created after the book was written and Blinkys followers moved out of Hatchetfield High and into the Witchwoods without being noticed by the Hatchetmen. I still believe if that’s the case then Watcher World itself wasn’t built until Blinky’s actual manifestation. I don’t think he’s interested in bringing about the apocalypse; that doesn’t seem like his style. I think Watcher World’s timeline is one where Blinky’s already won, and this is his end goal; creating somewhere he can watch people suffer.

WEBBY: The Witchwoods

There’s really no evidence to suggest Webby even has a White Altar so this is just an addendum to the theory, but the fact that it’s made out of the bodies of children who could presumably see her and is used for rituals against the Lords in the same way the Lords followers used their own Black Altars for them makes me see some sort of connection.

It’s also pretty notable to me that Willabella and Webby both have access to Hannah’s mind and Willabella is called the Witch in the Web. It really feels like there’s a connection there.

Okay thanks for reading bye ! <333