#the last several days were so merged for me

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[horizon-verizon]

On this here day, GRRM wrote an entry clarifying several things about the dragon lore in his novels, and it vindicates so many Dany stans/Daenerys as the Azor Ahai:

Saying dragon "mysteries", in-world, will be revealed in the last two books AND Septon Barth got a lot right. I'm taking that to mean that dragons change sex (Viserion, here you come, baby!), like two particular Twitter mutes I have (danylanzhou and Branwynwitch). It also seems like he's confirming that dragons and the first 40 Valyrian families (which include the Targs, then and now) mixed dragon blood with their own in some long past ancient event AND that only these families, therefore, can bond with dragons to rides them safely or befriend them.

Which means Nettles is definitely of Valyrian/Targ-descent, which really should have been obvious. One of my mutuals also asserted that this makes the idea of Nettles-Sheepstealer/Rhaena-Morning being interchangeable for their supposed HotD merging GRRM-disapproved bc he makes a point to say that dragons don't tend to move far from their lairs that are usually very high up in mountains and volcanos. Sheepstealer can't be going to the Vale while having a lair in Dragonstone:

As for the thought of Sunfyre flying miles to get to Dragonstone...this is where he/they were born and where the real magic that sustains dragons is coalesced from hundred of years. It makes sense for him/them to fly to this castle even if Aegon weren't there after he had been bodied by Meleys/Meleys & Vhagar, looking for recovery. This is where the Targs get most of their eggs/dragons and it is near where most dragons in Westeros make their lairs.

Note that he says, in the very last paragraph, how:

Fantasy needs to be grounded.  It is not simply a license to do anything you like. Smaug and Toothless may both be dragons, but they should never be confused. Ignore canon, and the world you’ve created comes apart like tissue paper.

It appears he is VERY not happy about something to do with dragons in the show's second season, how they bond in the show, how a certain dragon is "explained" to have traveled a too-long distance for a certain pale-locked young girl who has been trying to hatch her own dragon for years...I see you GRRM, fighting for Nettles AND Rhaena I see.

Oh, and just bc he said he liked epi 2, doesn't mean that he cannot critique anything about HotD ever again...he is the writer and creator of this universe that they are capitalizing on. As long as a writer of any genre stays logically consistent and relatively undiscriminatory in their original writing, they definitely can tell any of us readers what is real and not real or possible in their own creations! That this is even up for debate is a travesty to logic.

Mind you, this is the same man who said the show and the book are two separate canons AND that adaptations "nowadays" tend to fail bc the adapters think they can make the story "better" and ignore critical lore details. And in his latest commentary on HotD's S2 first two episodes, he says, and I quote:

“Rhaenyra the Cruel” has been getting great reviews, for the most part.   A lot of the fans are proclaiming it the best episode of HotD, and some are even ranking it higher than the best episodes of GAME OF THRONES.   I can hardly be objective about these things, but I would certainly say it deserves to be in contention.   The only part of the show that is drawing criticism is the conclusion of the Blood and Cheese storyline.   Which ending was powerful, I thought… a gut punch, especially for viewers who had never read FIRE & BLOOD.   For those who had read the book, however… Well, there’s  a lot of be said about that, but this is not the place for me to say it.   The issues are too complicated.   Somewhere down the line, I will do a separate post about all the issues raised by Blood and Cheese… and Maelor the Missing.  There’s a lot to say.

Note that the latest post was about epi4 and this one I just linked is only abt epi 1 &2....so where are his thoughts for the hated/comedic epi3?! (we see each other, George). (BTW, I gave my thoughts on his thoughts about 1 & 2, HERE.)

I'll say it once again: though GRRM praised the portrayal of grief, defended Cheese being lost, and loved the dog (the last I don't fault anyone for, I also loved them) in the Blood & Cheese episode, he also expressly talks AROUND how Blood & Cheese and Helaena actually interacted and comments on the Maelor-lessness (therefore the lack of Sophie's Choice) that many people--inclu myself--have been saying was a huge problem.

Now we have two different sources that seem to support the ideas of:

GRRM both not being as "involved" with the actual writing of this show for a bit AND not approving of a lot of critical changes

HotD's writers cannot create anything truly "canon" or "real/true" for this universe, it only can make any sort of "sense" if it also retrieves information from the original tale, which is not really just F&B but THE ENTIRE SET OF AVAILABLE BOOKS!

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Back for More

Written for @steddieangstyaugust - days 9 (Upside Down) and 11 (Temporary Character Death). They just happened to merge and I didn't stop them.

It was eerily quiet in the Upside Down. The rustling of demobat wings had died down, black tendrils lied still as their master fled to God knows where to lick his wounds. Only the constant storm that would never bring rain loomed over them.

Steve's vision was still blurry after the near strangulation at the Creel house, and Eddie? Well. Eddie was dying.

"Wait here until we can find help," they'd said. "Keep him safe. Keep him alive and talking." Robin and Nancy dragged Dustin away, screaming, crying, and Steve made a reckless promise to make sure that his favorite twerp of the twerp troupe (also known as the Party, the most annoying kids known to mankind) was out of danger. Or at least as much as one could be when the world was ending.

So, the promise? Keep Eddie from dying.

That was easier said than done. Demobats made Eddie their free buffet - Steve hated himself for thinking that, but maybe he could blame it on the dizziness - and now Eddie was even more full of holes than a golf course. Minus the flags.

Yeah, maybe Steve was panicking a little. But hey, who wasn't?

"Come on, man," he muttered as Eddie's hand dropped, letting go of the blood soaked cloth. "Keep it on the wound. I'm not an octopus, I can't plug in all of these, uh…"

Eddie laughed, but it made such a horrendous gurgling sound that Steve hoped he hadn't done that. "New entrances to the temple that is my body, Harrington?"

Steve's brow furrowed in disgust. Which was funny because, you know, they were covered in blood and grime, so this shouldn't have even fazed him. It still did. "Ew. Don't…just don't."

He still reached out and repositioned Eddie's hand to cover the less severe wounds. Which really weren't less severe, all were gnarly and jagged, but at least Eddie could reach them. Steve's hand didn't leave the most dangerous looking one on his neck, pressing down and slowing down the bleeding.

"Aww. Harrington is shy," whispered Eddie, but obediently used the last of his strength to cover the wound on his side.

"Am not. Your innuendos just suck. Where did you get those, in a history class?"

Eddie's mouth twitched into another smile. "Nah. In front of the mirror, like all proper men. Which might be…why they don't work. On other men."

Other men. Huh. Steve had never suspected anything.

His eyes were starting to close, his breathing more shallow, and yep, this was the moment that Steve would normally get up, get punched, get in the harm's way so the others could escape. But this time it wouldn't work. It was just him and Eddie and so much blood that just wouldn't stay on the inside where it belonged.

Keep him talking. That's what he promised to do.

He nudged Eddie with his knee. "Hey. Hey, Munson! Now I'm curious. How do you know they don't work? Have you tested them?"

Eddie groaned, but one of his eyes opened again. "Jesus H Christ, Harrington. Can I just die from blood loss and not embarrassment?"

"Nope. No dying either way. Tell me."

Another groan, another gurgle. "Didn't test anything, man. This is Hawkins. I never even told anyone. Shit, I didn't even want to tell you, but I'm feeling kinda lightheaded…"

Not good. Not fucking good at all. "It's fine, we're bonding, right?" But Eddie didn't respond, and Steve didn't have a third hand to slap him awake, so he just went for the conversational jugular. "I mean. I kinda get it. I saw a lot of stuff in the locker rooms and I've always thought Tommy has some nice shoulders and back. And…below."

That got Eddie's attention. His eyes opened again, and the bloodied grin he showed Steve was worth the mortifying admission. "Well well well. Who would have thought we have the same taste in men, King Steve? Type, I mean. Hagan's an asshole. But jocks…hmmm. Good for you to…have such a nice view."

Now he was talking too much, and his breath was getting even more shallow. Shit. "You'll get it too, man. Not all places are Hawkins. So stay awake, keep pressure on your…ugh, fine…new entrances to the temple of Munson, and I swear that when you're all healed up, I'll drive you to wherever you feel more comfortable, and we'll get you a jock to smooch or admire. Or both."

"Sounds nice," whispered Eddie. Then, after a pause: "being smooched, I mean. It's so lame, dying without being kissed. Ever."

Look, Steve was running out of options. There was no sound, no indication of help coming, and he had to keep his promise. The world was ending anyway. "Would you like not to?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I mean," said Steve and even attempted his signature hair flip, which earned him a weak chuckle from Eddie. "I know I look like shit now, but I was a jock. And I'm pretty sure I'm a better kisser than Tommy."

"…have better ass too…"

Steve burst out laughing, and perhaps he managed to hide the slowly rising wave of hysteria. "Yes, thank you! I knew someone would eventually have good taste and say it out loud. But seriously, uh…I'm offering. I mean, as far as first kisses go, this whole scenario will be pretty memorable."

Eddie smiled at him from the ground, and it was so sad that Steve wanted to punch Hawkins, his younger self and everyone who made Munson look this self-deprecating. "You don't have to, Steve. Pity isn't a good look on you."

"It's not," he said quickly, with more force than he'd intended. "Seriously, Eddie. It's not. It's…curiosity for me too. And maybe I also need to take my mind off things, because this whole week has been so incredibly shitty, more for you than me, but still, and it's not like we have anything better to do anyways. So I'm asking again, a bit more tactfully this time - may I kiss you before you change your mind and stop liking jocks?"

"Not gonna happen," whispered Eddie, but his smile was wider now. There was a strange sheen to his eyes, but Steve was only focused on buying just a bit more time, a few more minutes, even seconds. "Come on, big boy. Deflower my lips. Or something."

"You just had to make it weird."

Steve leaned down and inspected Eddie's face. It was covered in drying blood, so were his lips, but it didn't matter. He moved even further, still maintaining the pressure on Eddie's neck wound, and pressed their lips together.

It wasn't much, he was careful not to obstruct Eddie's breathing, but it felt nice. He imagined what it might have been like under different circumstances - Eddie's stubble against his chin, maybe taste of his cigarettes instead of blood, hand in his wild hair and around his slender waist. He winced as Eddie's tongue darted out and licked the cut in Steve's lip, but he met him halfway without hesitation.

As he started pulling away to give Eddie more space to breathe, Steve had a sudden realization. Despite his loudness and abrasive behavior, Eddie deserved the gentleness, the caution. Steve wondered if he could have given it to him in another time, another life.

"So," he asked, still hovering over Eddie, "was that everything you dreamed of?"

Eddie's voice was barely more than a sigh now. "Bit…less blood in my dreams. But…yeah. I really wish…"

The hand on his wound was slipping again. Steve moved it back. "Yeah?"

"I really wish I could have come back for more."

His hand dropped again, and this time, no matter how much Steve threatened, argued or pleaded, it wouldn't rise again.

"Eddie." Steve nudged him again, but his body was still. "Hey, Eddie. Wake up. You can come back for more anytime you want. Just…just hold on, get better and then you can have as many kisses as you want. Come on. Don't…"

When Nancy and Robin finally made it back with supplies, they found Steve still covering Eddie's wounds, not leaving his side. When they tried to move him, to make him let go of Eddie's body, Steve could only say one thing - "I made a promise."

..

Two weeks passed. The world was still ending, Max was in a coma, and Eddie was gone. It felt wrong, being able to summarize so much pain in such few words. Steve couldn't look Dustin in the eye, grateful for the return of the California crew so that Dustin had someone to support him apart from Lucas. He broke two promises in the same day, probably the most important ones he'd ever made.

His body functioned on autopilot. Donations, disaster relief, he did it all to keep busy. He slept very little, but when he did, he no longer had the intense, terrifying nightmares. Instead, he dreamt of Eddie, alive and well, meeting him in a bar, at Skull Rock, kissing him again and again.

Every day he woke up, had a blissful moment when reality was hazy, and then it hit. Eddie would never kiss him again.

It was yet another night full of tossing and turning in his bed. When Steve finally fell asleep, he was in a familiar dream. Sweet and soft kisses, Eddie's hair tickling his face. But this time, his lips felt more rough, and there was sharp pressure on his lower lip.

When he woke up, he thought he was still dreaming. His head was gently cradled by slender hands, long hair was tickling his face…and Eddie was in his bed.

He was dirty, covered in crusts of dried blood. His clothes were torn and the unnatural sheen in his eyes that Steve had noticed back in the Upside Down made it seem like the whites of his eyes were glowing. His nails were sharp, his canines were peeking out from under his upper lip, but it was him, in flesh. In scarred but miraculously healed flesh. 

"Eddie?"

"You said," he whispered, and it sounded raspy, rough. "You said I could come back for more."

It might have been a dream - or maybe not, Steve would find traces of mud and a familiar looking bandana in his bed the next day. But Steve didn't know that yet. What he knew was this - even if it was a dream, even if he was about to have yet another painful realization the next day, he'd take it. Because Eddie was worth every single second of that pain.

He wrapped his arms around the dream visitor's neck and pulled him back into his bed. "I did say that. And I'm a man of my word."

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #209

1. Hi hi! I’m looking for this fic I read a good while back. It’s basically a retelling of good omens where after hundreds of thousands of years, the universe restarts and aziraphale becomes a demon instead. And I can’t remember if Crowley owned the bookshop or if he had a flower shop or something. And at the end of the fic it starts over again and reverses the roles back to normal in a nice full circle moment. - anon

2. Hello! I’ve exhausted all of my own resources looking for this sucker so I’m coming to you guys now for help. The little bit I can remember is that Crowley is either having a bad pain day or a PTSD episode or something similar, and the narration goes something along the lines of “Crowley would gladly get on hands and knees and kiss at Aziraphale’s feet for putting up with him, but it’s the hallmark of their relationship that Aziraphale never would, and Crowley would never expect him to.” I know it was completed, less than 7000 words at most. It may have been smut but I’m not certain. Thank you so much! - @honey-sunsets

3. Hi, I’m looking for a fic that went through various points in history with Aziraphale and Crowley. One specific scene I remember is Aziraphale placing flowers in Crowley’s hair. I think it was flowers from where they were sitting, maybe blue forget-me-nots. This scene took place quite a few centuries back if I remember. I think it was a longer fic or even several parts. thank you! - @stardust-art

4. Hi mods! I was wondering if you knew a supernatural crossover fic that involves Castiel being Aziraphale’s child/brother/angelic relation (he gets told off by Azi like a parent at one point), and there’s an April fools chapter near the end? They also swap bodies to outsmart Hastur (I think?) Thanks and take care!! - @techiekittie

5. Hallo :) I have been looking for a fic I read after S2 came out (but not related to it) that I loved, but I can't find it again (believe me, I LOOKED) and was hoping you might be able to help me. I'd be much obliged. It was probably M or E rated, I believe more experienced Aziraphale in angelic mating matters. The specific point was that there is some merging (I think of essences, definitely bodies) going on resulting in Aziraphale giving Crowley a kind of tattoo that Crowley is very surprised about. Crowley doesn't remember how to initiate that at first, but then remembers and gives Aziraphale a matching one. I can see the "smirk" the last few lines evoked clearly in my mind, what I cannot remember is the damned title (T_T) I hope you might be able to work your fic-finding miracle and thank you in advance <3 - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2024 Day 17

Use the ghost of a dead character

This was actually the first entry I wrote for the event. It was like I got possessed by something. You could even say I was possessed by the ghost of someone. Just kidding.

Anyway, for day 17 you get more Toki trauma. Can be sort of read as a follow-up of yesterday's entry though it's not necessary to read that one beforehand.

Toki opened his eyes and he was in that goddamn basement again. He couldn’t count the days he had been stuck in there. At some point, they had started merging into each other. It was like it was one, huge, never-ending day. 

And he was chained, and he was bleeding. And his whole body hurt so much but Magnus’ words hurt even more.

“Nobody is coming for you. Nobody cares about you, Toki.”

“Dat amsnt true!” Toki protested and the glint of Magnus’ eyes was so scary that he could only look down. 

“Dethklok isn’t coming because they don’t love you, they never did. They just used you because it was convenient. You’re just like me, Toki.”

“No, dey ams my brothers! Dey loves me!”

“That’s what you’ve been telling yourself this whole time. That’s what you wanted to believe. But they’re selfish assholes that only think about themselves.”

“Noes!”

“Accept it, Toki! Nobody has ever wanted you, not even your parents! You’re gonna die alone…” Suddenly, the skin of Magnus’ face melted away, revealing the bones of his rotting skull. “You’re gonna die like me!”

“Noes! Noes!” Toki shut his eyes…

And opened them in his room. “Noes!” He screamed again, struggling with a chain that wasn’t there anymore.

“Toki!” Skwisgaar’s voice came into his auditory field and he was wrapped between slim yet firm arms. “Ams you okeys?”

He was gasping for air and he could feel his heart pounding on his ear. “It ams…he says…”

“Shhh…” Skwisgaar rubbed the side of his face against the top of Toki’s head. “It amsn’t real. Just a dumb, dildoes, nights mairs.”

Toki’s eyes welled with tears, well-aware that was only half of the truth. “He says dats to me…all de times…” He sniffed softly. “Whens I…”

“...Ja?”

“He says dats…nobodies loves me…” As he talked, the sob was creeping up his throat. “Dats I…woulds dies alones…dats you didnts…”

The grasp Skwisgaar had on him suddenly released and Toki looked up in fear, only to be faced with Skwisgaar’s deep blue eyes. “You ams not deres anymores. You ams here.” After a pause, he added. “Wif mes.”

Toki’s breath hitched, fighting the urge not to sob, but when Skwisgaar’s arms wrapped around his waist, his soft golden mane nuzzling against Toki’s jaw so gently, the tears started to flow. He gazed at his warmly-lit room, the plane model that he had been teaching Skwisgaar to build earlier, the guitar resting against his night stand. And the sob inside him started to soothe.

Skwisgaar pulled back a little and watched his face. He had that severe look in his face, the same one he directed to him when he didn’t practice, but instead he leaned in and kissed Toki’s forehead. So sweetly, that Toki could’ve started crying again. 

Or, he could cup Skwisgaar’s face and kiss him on the lips. So, that’s what he did. And when Skwisgaar kissed him back, he couldn’t help shedding one last tear. 

Except this one was of happiness.

“Thank yous.” He whispered against Skwisgaar’s mouth. 

“Pfft, this amsn’t no charities.” Skwisgaar said, with his usual arrogant tone, though when their eyes met, he smiled. “Feels bettors now?”

Toki nodded and nestled against him on the bed. They just stared at each other for a really long time.

It was hard to believe sometimes. Even though it’s what he had always wanted. Growing up in a loveless family made him feel like maybe he didn’t deserve any type of love. That even though he had done nothing wrong, maybe he shouldn’t have been born. That he’d die as lonely as he felt every single day he spent in that cold and cruel house. And so many things that happened to him after he escaped did nothing but reconfirm that fear. 

If he were to be honest, Toki wasn’t even sure anymore if Magnus had actually told him those things, or if it was just his deepest fears talking back to him while he was on the brink of death.  

He stretched his hand to stroke Skwisgaar’s cheek. And Skwisgaar leaned into the touch, like a cat welcoming his owner back home. “Whats you thinkingks?” He asked.

Toki smiled. “Nothings.”

It was really hard to believe sometimes. 

That he wasn’t alone anymore. 

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Consequences | Epilogue

Word Count: 1.6k~

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading this story! The interactions with you all have been great and the comments, likes, reblogs, the insight you all have into this story, it gives me flutters, so thank you all so much. I hope this Aemond dies in a hole 😙

Series Masterlist 

They say Harrenhal was haunted.

 A most wretched, cavernous place. Said to have been built brick by brick with human blood mixed into the mortar.

 Originally, Aemond would have thought these the tales of lowly peasants, with nothing better to do with themselves than to incite fear amongst one another in the pursuit of something exciting. Something to fill their dull, miserable short lives with a sense of adventure and a morbid curiosity.

 It was true, the hallways had whispers, seemingly without anyone there. A thousand different voices, all merged into one distant, unintelligible breath. Calling out to whatever living soul had even dared to step within its walls.

 It was utterly maddening.

 Aemond knew better than to believe in ghosts and deathly whispers.

 The only whispers he listened to were those of Alys Rivers, they seemed to hold the only slither of truth, as vague as they were.

 Harrenhal had been abandoned when he arrived, and it was no wonder. If he knew, sitting right where he was now before the fireplace, what this place could do to a person, he would never have come.

 But he could not have stayed there, at the Keep.

 She was there. With her scathing, judgemental stare. As if she had any right to judge him, Aemond thought, the lowborn cunt.

 He wanted to wrangle her pathetic neck for the way she spoke to him. She was older, and more sure about her words than the other maidservants and was not afraid to show her disgust for him on her face at all times. Several times she spoke above her station and Aemond was wound tight, about to snap at any moment.

 And his mother…

 She was distant. Had been since the day she had stormed into Aegon’s chambers. Not only form her eldest but from him as well.

 Her distaste for Aegon’s actions was always apparent, though she loved him, she showed it with her hand and tongue. Several times Aemond had witnessed her strike him across the face, before he was King anyway.

 But with Aemond, she employed silence as her means to show her distaste for his actions, although she had made no obvious indication that she knew what he’d done.

 It was like being a child again. Aemond hated that.

 He was a man grown and yet here he was, being chastised by women wherever he went.

 Getting out of the Keep meant getting away from not only her and his mother. But from the memories and regrets that lived there.

 The memories of her life.

 The many, many regrets.

 He had hoped that amongst her possessions, she might at least have kept a diary. So that he might at least have known her thoughts and feelings, imagining her reading them to him in her sweet, soft voice. Only to be hit with the realisation that she, amongst a lot of other maidservants, could not read nor write. So he was further doomed into the awareness of just how far up in this hierarchy Aemond really was, compared to these meek, feeble women, who would toil for their betters ‘til their last breath.

 He would even have settled for a lock of her hair. Perhaps that one that was always free of her braids at the side of her face, curly and unbending to the will of the rest of it. All he had were the memories of reaching out and touching its soft strands, running his fingers through her tresses to her skin, warm and alive.

 Gods, he missed her voice.

 Sometimes, when he was alone, staring at the flames of the fireplace as he so often was, he would think of how she had referred to him.

 Your grace.

 Only once had she called him by his name. Clearly that is. The second time he had the poor girl underneath him, thrusting up into her. Even now, he remembered her desperate whines. But she’d said it with his title in front of it. Tainted by it.

 He so desperately wanted to hear his name from her lips, without prompting her, as if it was as natural as saying her own. All the times she had, she had been forced or obliged to.

 He missed her flesh. And how utterly perfect she felt, inside and out.

 But with her passing came another realisation. That beside her position as a maidservant, he knew nothing about her. And with how much time had passed between her passing to now, he was forgetting what she looked like, her mannerisms, her scent.

 Aemond tried so desperately not to forget her face. It was like watching someone drown. Looking down into the depths of the water at their face as they sank, until the water swallowed their features in its murky void. Until there was nothing left.

 He willed it into existence.

 But it also meant having to remember what he did.

It is a small mercy she died in her sleep. In peace. So that she did not have to look upon your face. That’s what Hedi had said once.

 He thought guilt would come to him, or perhaps a form of karma. Knowing perhaps that if this war had to end, perhaps he’d have to fight or die to end it.

 He’d done his part, as his King had requested, in slaughtering House Strong and taking Harrenhal for himself. There was but one survivor of House Strong, one he found multiple uses for since sparing her life. Alys Rivers.

 As well as using her as a vessel for his desires, he often sought her ability to see visions of the future. He hoped he could tell him what his fate might be and what would await him the longer this war carried on, but his tempers were starting to flare once more when she said she could only see obscurity. Her visions were dim, without real substance nor real clarity.

 It was like being stuck in the middle of a story, without the decency to have the plot to complete it.

 The maids came and went into his chambers, knowing not to speak to him and instead doing their various duties with caution in their step. Ser Criston had said he would deal with the staff, which could only have meant one thing.

 These girls were new to the job, having been rushed to employment from their various hometowns to start their positions, but ultimately having no choice but to be accustomed to it. They were quiet at least, went about their business with a softness in their fear of the One-Eyed Prince.

 They needn’t have bothered with their fear, he thought.

 He was long disinterested.

 Since her.

 He was vaguely aware of the maidservant in his periphery, adding more logs to the fire in front of him. It was a small victory that they did not try to speak to him. Aemond twirled the written and wax-sealed scroll in his hand, between his fingers, addresses to the King on what he had done.

 Once the maidservant was finished, she stood and brushed her sooty fingers on her apron. Her hair was braided loosely down her back which spoke to just how green the staff were, that prim and proper style adopted by the Keep was clearly not something that was adhered to in other regions of Westeros.

 He opened his mouth, holding the scroll out for her to take to the messenger, until she turned around.

 Your grace.

 Those eyes.

 Those lips.

 Her hair.

 His heart was beating fast in his chest, hot whips of panic making him break out into a sweat. And before he knew it he had retreated a few paces, the chair loudly scraping against the flagstone floor, his breathing laboured and tight against his leather doublet, insides fit to burst with utter dread.

 His eye quickly flew about her face, trying to make sense of this horror that had filled his stomach. Bile started to rise in his throat. Limbs felt as if they were not his own.

 Your grace.

 She had not said a thing and only stared at the prince with shock, wondering what she had done, the surprise of him reacting the way he did made her breathe heavier.

 Every time he blinked, behind his eye, he saw what he’d seen in his nightmares.

 But it was not her.

 But someone who looked so alike to her that it terrified him all the same. The only difference was her eyes and young face, still plump with her youth and her form which was smaller and not yet that of a grown woman.

 Aemond.

 “Your grace?” the young woman had said in a quiet, fearful voice.

He wanted to vomit. Those voices that carried down the hallways of this wretched castle had all formed into her voice. All he could see was her form, drenched in her blood as he imagined she was when she had died. The blood that he could not deny was on his hands.

 No. He couldn't face it.

It cannot be.

 “Get out”

 He was not sure who he was talking to.

 This girl.

 Or her.

 She did not move. Too paralysed by his flighty reaction. Flashes of her face and the other took his vision.

 “Get. Out”

 She eventually found her courage, almost tripping over herself to scramble to the doors. Doing as he had ordered and left.

 Aemond never saw her again.

 The shame, guilt, anger was all renewed. The flames had been fanned, and he was on the pyre. Burning alongside her.

 His hands gripped at Vhagar’s reins tightly, as if all his power and control on her would fade if he were to let go.

 He thought that by doing what he did, some of that power would come back. That perhaps some of that control would be restored to him as it slipped so effortlessly out of his grasp.

 Everything was fire.

 Fire and Blood.

 There was not a speck of green that Aemond had not burned.

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles  @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr   @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx  @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid @thedamewithabook @hiatuswhore @apollonshootafar @ladymarg0t @hopeless-addiction-love @leeleebabe101 @babyblue711 @croatianprincess @what-is-your-wish @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @garnetbutterflysblog @queenmizuki @tempt-ress @ithoughtulikedme @babyblue11 @qyburnsghost​ @heavenly1927​ @madislayyy​ @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @eddiemunsonsgroupie @iloveallmyboys @malynn​ @qorirah

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

[tomorrowsgardennc]

market update // september 14th

drop off versus set up. i get to the market super early, even though setting up takes me 15 minutes, tops. i prefer to avoid the traffic of other vendors setting up, and i like to volunteer around the market before it opens. it's around 50 vendors at this market during the main season (april until december), so it can get busy super quick right before the market opens with everyone coming in at the last minute. not worth the stress when i can just come in early and help others out.

today blew me away. literally. had gusts of wind that were so bad a power pole fell down right outside the parking lot. that means the road that's the main traffic for the market was closed after 30 minutes of being open. that killed sales for *everyone*, including the big bois that sell out every week. coffee barrista vendor said their sales were down to 1/3rd their normal amount because of this. but the die hards willing to brave traffic and walking 2 blocks from parking to the market still made it out.

tue big bois were panicing over sales, but a horrific day in sales for me here still beat a great day of sales at other markets in previous years. no panicing from me, for once. if the road wasn't closed but sales were the same as today THEN i would panic. c'est la vie and all.

my top sellers were the ground cherry produce and the mini flower vases. none of those sales were my normal customers but rather the die-hards just browsing since they weren't eager to get back into traffic. so i met some new faces today, that's good. top reactions to people trying out the ground cherries go to a 3yo trying one, then shaking their head vigorously and then hiding in their mothers hair. another 6yo tried one and then just quickly started eating a whole bunch more. the mom paid for it, blushing, but i thought it was cute.

so imma share a secret with you, tumblr. for me to pass the time, i always wave to the kids who stare at me and tally up how many wave back. my record is 5 in one day. today was only 1. will try and wave better next week.

with it being an unsually slow day, i did end up going home with more than what i came with. but today is also my birthday so that's ok. ton of bread from my favorite bread baker in all the charlotte area, plus bagels, apples, cookies... got 2 large flower bouquets - one for a colleague who passed away this week, and another for me because birthday. thinking about merging all the large flowers together and take them to the place where he worked tomorrow, and keep the small ones for me. idk, i just love smaller bouquets spread around the house instead of one big one.

i didn't take an after-market shot because there was almost no difference at all due to lack of traffic. i did try and get photos throughout the day to share here and i hope that this new series of posts help inspire those who want to or are beginning their business vending journey. i've been vending at several markets and too many events over the past 5 years, so i got a lot of pointers and stories to share. please enjoy.

[super-unpredictable98]

The Eighth Child (~TUA AU~) - Season 4

Chapter 3: Next Stop at The End of Time

Warning: Strong language, mild sexual content, death, talk of addiction

(The Eighth Child Masterlist)

Victoria was scared to walk inside. Partially because the place was condemned and could crumble on them just like when Viktor started having a fit back in the day, but also because she didn't know what to expect. Ben was there and Five said it was her Ben, but what if it wasn't? Last time she had any contact with him, they were fighting for their lives, right before he disappeared forever. It was hard to believe he would simply waltz back into their lives.

All of the doubt and the nerves disappeared the moment she laid eyes on him and realized that was her brother. It wasn't the same as looking at the knockoff Sparrow version, it was a bond that survived time, death, and several ends of the world.

"Ben!" She screamed when the door opened and she ran into his arms crying. "Bennie Boo, I missed you so much, oh my... where have you been?"

"Another timeline," he chuckled and hugged his sister. "Someone told me you married Klaus! How insane is that?"

"I know, I know... it's crazy, but you'll get used to it," she laughed, drying her tears. "You need to meet my daughter, her name is Fortune. We gave her the middle name Bennie."

"That's so sweet... ugh too sweet, you're gonna make me emotional! I didn't think you'd ever forgive me after I made Klaus kiss Jill," he sighed.

"Oh, that? That was a billion years ago, I swear I don't resent you at all for that. It was your chance and you took it, I would've done the same. You need to visit my bakery! The Ben special on my menu is your favorite, torta holandesa."

"With Calipso cookies on the rim?" he chuckled.

"Of course, it's not torta holandesa without Calipso cookies on the rim!" She squeezed him tighter and covered his cheek in kisses. "And when our youngest is born, you have to be there! We'll know very soon if it's a boy or a girl! I have so much to tell you, just... so much."

"Are they always so gross? Good thing she hates me," Sparrow Ben scoffed. "Helloooo, we're all in danger?"

"Oh fuck, yeah," Victoria swallowed nervously, trying to catch her breath. Okay, so what I know is that Abigail, Dad's wife, somehow disguised herself as Sy Grossman and gave us the marigold hoping we'd take it. You're very welcome for that, by the way, we'd be very screwed if I let you do that. Then her plan was that we'd look for Jennifer, who has some sort of anti-marigold in her called durango. Once those two substances interact, horrible things happen... the cleanse. Which from what she said is just killing everyone."

"If it's so dangerous for marigold and durango to interact, that's why Dad locked Jennifer away, which means he didn't know about his wife's plan," Five said.

"He didn't, she said she was doing that because she didn't ask to be brought back to life and blah blah blah," Victoria rolled her eyes. "She created these elements and she wants them to stop existing via the cleanse. In a way, Ben saved all of humanity when his tentacles killed Jennifer and himself that night, this reaction had already started. I remember the glowing rash on his arm, of course he couldn't just leave an innocent girl to be destroyed even though that's what Dad told us to do."

"Good thing I died that once then," Ben tilted his head, thinking. "So the cleanse would be like... a monster that carries the seeds of its own destruction? Kills everyone and then itself?"

"Exactly. Maybe if we got Jennifer to drink some marigold, the cleanse would happen in a contained environment and end this nightmare," Victoria suggested.

"I don't think there is containing the monster, don't you remember what happened the first time?" Luther murmured, giving Ben a look.

"I guess we should first figure out how to get the timelines to merge and leave us with one," Five pinched the bridge of his nose. He was definitely too old to be dealing with that sort of stress.

"Oh easy then," Lila joked.

"There are portals all over the place, we could go down there and try to decode the map. Find a way to shut down the train, anything," Ben said.

"He might be right, we should go down there and see who's in command of the train," Diego nodded. "Let's go."

"Hey guys... I sort of can't," Victoria murmured. "I need to look for Klaus, I think he might have relapsed. We had a big fight and... I need to get him back."

"Can't this wait?" Sparrow Ben grunted.

"No, it actually can't. My husband might be in danger and I don't care if he's a junkie or a germophobe, I love him. I should've never said that him getting clean was the worst thing that happened to me."

"That's harsh..." Allison mumbled.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm already very sad!"

"Alright, we'll go and meet here again ASAP, once we're all together, we fix this shit," Five walked to the door, but Vicky stopped him.

"I need your gun."

"What?"

"I need it, if Klaus is with some sort of dealer or gang member, I need the gun to protect myself and him."

"Unbelievable," he handed her the revolver. "Bring it back without a scratch, that's company property."

**

"I see a huge change in your future, it seems a few people who are holding you down will finally be out of your way... it'll hurt, but you need to let go to make way for your new and improved life," Klaus looked at the tarot cards.

"Should I start the new business then?" The lady in front of him asked.

"Definitely, I see hard times in the beginning, but look," he picked up one of the cards. "Prosperity in the future if you persist."

"Thank you so much," she gave him the payment for the session.

"No, thank you, my dear," he smiled, counting the money.

The lady left and Quinn came in followed by another woman, a beautiful woman in a skimpy outfit.

"Moneeeey!" Klaus cheered. "Here, now you know I intend on paying my debt, so please let me go home. My daughter is waiting, my wife must be worried sick..."

"Nice try, but you're not leaving until the 40k is paid," Quinn grabbed the money. "This is for food, rent, supplies, the stuff you took last night... now you choose, my little star."

He held up ten bucks or a little packet with a couple of pills.

Klaus sighed defeated and took the pills before looking at the woman by the door. "Come on in, let's start your reading, yeah?"

"She's not here for a reading," Quinn chuckled and tossed a strip of condoms at him. "She's here for your other services. Five hundred an hour."

"Wait no no no! I have a wife, I can't do this! I have a family! No offense to this beautiful lady, but..."

"You'll do your job until your debt is paid!"

"Don't worry, you'll like it," the woman placed her hand on Klaus' chest. "I love feminine men, you're so cute."

"So does my wife! I'm sorry, I can't! I can't!" Klaus pleaded while she tried to take his clothes off.

"That's just too damn bad, isn't it?" Quinn huffed while closing the door.

"Too damn bad indeed, too bad you can't take no for an answer," Victoria pointed the gun at him. She had seen that place before, she knew that's where Klaus came to get drugs.

"Who are you?" He raised his hands.

"The wife. Now you can let my husband go or you can go ahead and meet your maker."

"That's cute... do you even know how to shoot? You're some dumb housewife with her daddy's gun."

It had been a while since Victoria experienced that intoxicating feeling, being underestimated because she looked so delicate and docile when she knew she had the power to end that person's life.

"You wanna take the chance?" She smirked.

"You haven't killed a roach in your life, Freckles..."

"Yeah, I haven't," she faked defeat. "But I have killed dozens of people."

Without waiting, she shot him in the head and immediately reached into his pocket to get his gun so he wouldn't try to retaliate in his last moments.

"Piece of shit... girls! You can all go!" She screamed at the young ladies in tiny rooms, probably just as helpless as her husband.

She then opened the door with both guns ready to shoot. The woman, who was still trying to grind against Klaus, let out a yelp and backed away.

"Never touch my man again or I'll put a bullet in your fucking head too! Scram!"

"Victoria!" Klaus was crying tears of happiness, relief, and guilt. "Victoria, my Liebling, my baby! I'm so sorry..."

He ran into her arms and she embraced him too. He felt like a failure for relapsing, but she was ready to help.

"No, no I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that stuff, I should've helped you get over your fear, I should've been more empathetic."

"I should've tried harder, looked for therapy. I also said a bunch of shit I didn't mean, I'm sorry. I yelled at Fortune, I'm such a shit dad..."

"No you're not, you're the best dad ever, you just need help," she smiled sadly. "Tunnie is okay, she's with Claire and Ray."

"So you still love me?"

"Of course I do, I looked for you all night and just killed a man because I love you."

"Help me get clean again? Help me be a better Klaus that you can be attracted to again?"

"Of course," she kissed him softly. "We need to meet the others, there's a whole timeline bullshit going on, I'll explain on the way... but hey! Ben is back! Our Ben!"

"Really? Oh my..." Klaus grinned. "We'll go, we'll go. There's just a place I need to go first."

**

Victoria drove Klaus to the nearest AA meeting. He really wanted to do things right this time.

The moment he entered the room, there was nobody there except for the chairwoman, who was already gathering her things.

"The meeting is canceled," she said. "Nobody's here."

"I'm here," Klaus shrugged.

"Take a pamphlet..."

"What's your name?"

"Stephanie."

"Stephanie, listen, I've been to enough court-ordered rehab to know that if one person shows up, it's a meeting. You might make a motion to adjourn, but I'm not seconding and I've had one hell of a slip, and I'm not leaving until I get my one day chip."

"Fine... sit," Stephanie shook her head, pulling out a binder.

"Well, my name is Klaus-"

"Ah ah, no. If we're gonna stick to the rules, we'll stick to the rules," she started reading from the binder. "Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of people who share their experience, strengths..."

"It's very important, I know, and you've said it a thousand times. I've heard it a thousand times, can we get to the part where we share?"

"The floor is now open for sharing," she tried not to laugh. "You have two minutes! No more than that."

"Wonderful!" Klaus clapped and raised his hand.

"Alright, how about you?"

"Moi?" She faked surprise. "Thank you Steph, I can call you Steph, right?"

"No."

"Okay... powerlessness... it's all there on the first step, little words on the page, but I never knew what it really meant until I screamed at my pregnant wife, screamed at my child, and took her Barbie cash to only then be forcefully pimped out by a psycho who I owed money to..." He sat down. "Before that, I had three years clean, three whole years. The problem was I was trying to do it all by myself. Staying in my safe little bubble, scared of death, scared of life... scared of life and taking it out on the people who love me the most, one of whom is sitting outside by the way."

"Hey!" Victoria waved through the door. "You go, Babe!"

"That's my wife slash sister," he whispered.

"I'm not gonna ask," Stephanie breathed.

"So I'm saying it for the first time in my life without irony..." he took a deep breath. "That my name is Klaus and I'm an alcoholic. I'm also a complete drug addict. And while we're at it, I'm probably also addicted to love, and sex. Which has been tough cause I haven't gotten laid much since I went totally nuts and my wife stopped being attracted to me because I became insanely boring. I don't even know how I got her pregnant again..."

"Hey, I'm so sorry to interrupt," Victoria opened the door again. "Can he get his chip? We really need to go right now! Claire just said she just got visited by a woman claiming to be Grandma who took Fortune away when she wasn't looking. I already called Five, we're going to see Dad."

"Shit, my daughter!" Klaus took the one day chip and ran off. "Thanks for the help, Steph!"

Tag List: @jozstankovich @firstpersonnarrator @salvador-daley

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 19.1 - cover me

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (angst, language, violence, sexual content)

Word Count: 2100

A/N: we are nearing the end of book one. are you ready? also, this chapter is nothing but DRAMA.

☾

The times are tough now, just getting tougher This old world is rough, it's just getting rougher Cover me, come on baby, cover me Well, I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me

☾

May 19, 1984 - junior year

Richard Buckley was quite relieved when his boss told him they had finished the out-of-town job ahead of schedule, a day early to be exact. He missed his home, his recliner, his bed.

And if he was brutally honest, the idea of leaving his two daughters alone for an entire weekend made his neck hurt. 

He was sure that Robin could be trusted. But as of recently, he didn't trust you as far as he could throw you. Especially with that Munson gremlin and the hold he had on you. 

Richard had already engaged in several discussions with his ex-wife about moving you to Indianapolis to set you on a better path. The last thing his family's reputation needed was his eldest daughter hanging around a drug dealer's son, or worse, getting impregnated by one.

Richard's eye twitched violently as he wondered if the Munson boy had set foot in his home while he was gone the night before.

This became a mild paranoia turned reality as Richard merged onto his street, only to find an unusual amount of cars in front of his house. Young adults roamed amongst the vehicles, some of them on his front porch. 

"What on God's green earth…" he grumbled to himself, already feeling his blood beginning to boil. 

Parking his work truck in front of the neighbors' house - as his well-manicured driveway was full of cars - Richard Buckley stormed down the sidewalk towards his home. It was quite obvious that there was a party of some sort being held. 

He passed teenagers, but couldn't tell exactly who they were in the dim light of the street lamps. Richard caught some of their wretched conversations as he passed by. 

…did you see the look on his face?... hell of a party, man… Carol is so drunk!

Not even ten minutes earlier, Richard was content. He was calm, he was ready to relax after spending most of his day on the road.

And now he was about to have an aneurysm at the sight of a crowd of strangers in his home. Most of them were clearly drunk, laughing and yelling to each other obnoxiously. Music blasted throughout the rooms. No one seemed to notice the sudden appearance of an irate adult.

Another thing he did not expect to find was a banner hanging from the kitchen cabinets. The brightly painted paper held cartoonish flames with the words "CONGRATS PYROMANIAC!" spread over them. 

Edward. Munson. 

Robin was nowhere to be found. Richard roamed room to room, finding no one he recognized and neither of his two daughters. Did you take him for this much of a fool?

Heading upstairs, he barged into your bedroom, which was the closest door to the top of the stairs. 

Empty. 

So he moved onto Robin's.

His youngest daughter was inside, placing a shiny black record onto her record player. One of her girl friends laid casually on the bed, flipping through a magazine. But Richard couldn't find anger in him towards Robin.

The thing that truly angered him was that you were still missing, and the look on Robin's face when she saw her father told him that all of this was indeed your doing. Robin was merely a bystander. Most likely manipulated by her toxic older sister.

"Dad? You're back early." Panic spread across her freckled features. She failed miserably at concealing the beer bottles behind her.

Richard gripped the doorknob, knuckles white. "Would you mind telling me where your sister is? I need to have a word with her."

"Uh… no, I haven't seen her in a long time. Maybe she's in the kitchen?"

"I was just in the kitchen. Robin Buckley, you tell me where she is. Right now." 

Richard could feel his face reddening more, if that was even possible. He would need to visit the cardiologist after this.

He remained firmly in the doorway, blocking Robin from trying to leave and give her sister a head's up. 

Stuttering a response, Robin waved her hands frantically. "I-I… the front porch?!"

"I've looked everywhere besides…" and then he knew. 

The basement.

Ignoring Robin chasing him down the stairs, and then further down the basement stairs, Richard was the bull in a cheap china shop. Fury flooded his senses and he could barely hear Robin's pleas to stop.

Of all the things that occurred that fateful night, the last thing Richard Buckley wanted to see in his home, in his laundry room, was this.

You were bent over the dryer, your dress pushed up past your hips. Eddie Munson stood behind you with his pants visibly undone, mid-thrust.

It was the final straw for Richard Buckley.

☾

Now, promise me baby, you won't let them find us Hold me in your arms, let's let our love blind us Cover me, shut the door and cover me Well, I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me

☾

Eddie was approximately eight beers deep when a balding, red-faced man literally caught him with his pants down.

Prior to the rude interruption, the brown-eyed boy was having the time of his life. 

The surprise party was a mixture of some of his favorite things: irony, his best friends, beer, and the best of all… you did it for him. Even though he had been kicked out of school not even a week before. 

The sarcastic paper banner congratulating him for setting Higgin's car on fire was the best part, and not even the presence of some unsavory members of the popular crowd *cough* Harrington *cough* could ruin Eddie Munson's high that night.

All good things must come to an end, though, which Eddie knew all too well. 

And the one thing that could surely ruin his high was your father walking in on him railing his daughter from behind against a fucking dryer.

And then Eddie's high was completely obliterated when he felt a sucker punch collide with his jaw, sending him backwards against the concrete basement floor. All he could do was scramble to get his pants up, protecting his bits and pieces from the insane man.

You were screaming something, but Eddie could barely hear you over the shouts coming from your father and then the tearful appearance of Robin in the doorway.

His vision was spinning from the hit to his head, mixed with shock and the alcohol in his system. Richard Buckley came at him again.

"You motherfucking piece of trash, Munson! I'll have you arrested-"

"Eddie, no!"

But Eddie was never one to make good decisions.

He swung a sharp left hook at Richard Buckley's face, knocking him out immediately. And then Eddie pushed past the distraught sisters, spitting blood from his mouth onto the pretty pastel yellow wall before bolting up the stairs two at a time.

...he ran, because Eddie had never thought of himself as much of a hero.

You caught up with him as he approached his van. "Eddie, please!"

"Your pop's a real fucking gem, you know that, Buckley?"

Tears ran down your blushing face, your eyes blurry from crying and the multiple shots of cheap vodka you had. One of the straps on your dress had fallen off your shoulder. Eddie wanted to fix it, to touch you, but the coppery taste of blood in his mouth reminded him of how fucking pissed he was.

"H-he wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow night. I had no idea he would come home early!"

"No shit, Sherlock!" Eddie hissed, not caring how mean he sounded. "Obviously you didn't know. Give me a damn minute to cool off, will you? My jaw is fucking killing me." 

Spitting more blood onto the sidewalk, you flinched at his crude behavior. For a second, Eddie felt ashamed at how selfish he was being. 

Sure, he got punched in the mouth. He got caught with his dick out by his girlfriend's holy roller father. He had to abandon the party that was thrown for him.

But what about you? What kind of consequences would you face after this? You had to live with the psychotic Buckley man, for Christ's sake.

The sudden shouting of said psycho made you and Eddie jump. Richard Buckley was standing by the front door, arms outstretched, screaming for everyone to vacate the premises. 

"Listen, I'm getting the hell outta here before he calls Hopper. I don't need any more heat on me this week."

You reached towards him, your eyes pleading. "I'll leave with you. Let me come with you."

Eddie's temper softened at your drunken desperation, unable to hold any kind of ill feelings towards you for very long. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it, realizing then just how much his knuckles hurt from hitting the older man. 

"Call me tomorrow. I'll come pick you up then, alright? But you can't just leave Robin in there by herself tonight."

"Are you sure?" 

Chuckling, Eddie used the short sleeve of his white t-shirt to wipe more blood from his swollen lips. "Sunshine, don't you worry about me one bit. I can take a punch, unlike your dear ol' daddy."

This made you smile, albeit a nervous smile. "Do you have your gift? Did you leave it in the house?"

Eddie gestured towards his glove box. "I got it."

"And remember, don't open-"

"Yeah, yeah. I won't open it 'til tomorrow."

You kissed him roughly before running back towards the house. He watched as the skirt of your dress flowed behind you. 

Eddie drove off, never thinking for a second that it would be over a year until he would see those beautiful eyes again.

☾

Outside's the rain, the driving snow I can hear the wild wind blowing Turn out the light, bolt the door I ain't going out there no more

☾

"I've already spoken to your mother. As a matter of fact, I called her a few days ago regarding this matter. My decision is final."

You felt your world collapsing around you.

Head pounding from your hangover and an unreasonable amount of stress, you almost couldn't believe what you were hearing.

Robin spoke quietly from the doorway. "Dad, we shouldn't be making rash-"

"Go to your room, Robin! This does not concern you." Richard slammed a hand down on the kitchen counter, glaring at his youngest daughter as she scampered away like a scared puppy.

Turning back towards you, his face was emotionless. "Go pack your things. Your mother will be here soon. She left Indianapolis early this morning, called off work, to deal with this."

So you were facing exile. Complete banishment.

Before you even had a chance to call Eddie that day, your father disconnected the phone in your room. You were no longer welcome in the Buckley home. Your mother would be taking you to Indianapolis for the summer. You would complete your senior year of high school away from Hawkins.

Your options were pathetic and sparse. You weren't eighteen yet - your father had already threatened to report you as a runaway if you fought against it. Richard Buckley also had the balls to say he would report Eddie, who was eighteen already, for taking his underage daughter. 

You laughed bitterly when he said this. "Could you be more dramatic?"

But your father was hellbent. "Your actions recently have been nothing but a path of destruction. Your behavior last night was repulsive and a slap in the face of God. I can't have you continuing this. And I can't have you dragging your sister down with you."

"Excuse me? Has the whole situation with Kate been swept under the rug?" You only dug your grave deeper, fueled by frustration. "Maybe it's better if Robin came with me. I don't think either of us need to be here anymore."

"Are you really going to take your little sister away from her friends? From her future with the marching band?"

Your father knew how to hit you exactly where it hurt.

You felt nauseated suddenly, and stepped towards the phone on the kitchen wall. 

"I disconnected all of the phones when you woke up. Now, go pack your things."

"Let me call Eddie," you spat, your hands trembling in fists at your sides.

Richard scowled at you. "To say what? He's a doomed individual. If you keep letting him chase after you, he will never focus on his own future, and you'll only condemn him further."

A car honking outside yanked you from the impulse to scream obscenities at the man before you.

"Upstairs. Now. Don't make your mother wait too long."

About thirty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of your mother's car, watching Hawkins pass by with teary eyes like it was some kind of distant memory.

☾

This whole world is out there just trying to score I've seen enough, I ain't gonna see any more Cover me, wrap your arms around me, cover me

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Cover Me" by Bruce Springsteen)

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[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Home is Where You Are

A/N: This is an alternate universe where Rafael made it to Brazil and the attack never happened. I've always HC'd that my MC would tell Raf he would always be welcome to stay with him if he needed. So this is what happens when Brazil doesn't work out for Rafael and he decides he needs to be back home in Boston...to the place he knows will be open for him.

It was hot in the office. Rafael sat amongst a small group of people with his back to the window, beads of sweat dotted the back of his neck. November brought the beginning of summer to Brazil, where he had been living for about a year now. The move from Boston, Massachusetts hadn’t been easy by any means – not least because he was leaving his grandmother behind – but it had been what he’d needed to do at the time.

He’d been growing restless and unhappy, though his family had been as supportive as they could, and eventually he’d decided to return to his roots; back to the country where his mother had grown up, and where a lot of her family still lived. They had welcomed him with open arms and he’d spent three months on his cousins couch before he’d managed to rent a room.

It wasn’t the height of luxury. He lived with a middle-aged woman and a recent college graduate in a slightly neglected apartment that was prone to power failures, but it was affordable. He had juggled several jobs from takeout delivery to bartending, but then he had landed a position at a small law firm that specialised in vulnerable clients: support for the elderly or traumatically injured, and providing guidance to their families. With a higher salary and the promise of a career that could help people, things were definitely looking up now.

Rafael adjusted the tie that was growing uncomfortable around his neck as one of his colleagues opened another window. Their boss walked into the conference room as soon as she sat down.

“Good morning,” he greeted them, speaking Portuguese. “Thank you for meeting me today. I don’t intend to take up too much of your time.

“As you know, my family started up this firm with the intent of helping people who needed it most. We wanted to ensure people could put their full trust in us to take care of their loved ones without handing over their life savings at the same time. We have always sought to keep our fees to the client as low as possible, however this doesn’t come without a challenge. Certainly last year, it was very touch and go.”

A few colleagues murmured in agreement, but Rafael hadn’t been part of this.

“I am delighted to announce that we will be merging with a firm specialising in family law. The merger will make both our teams stronger in the long term and we hope our employees will benefit from the additional, eventual rewards. However…” the boss trailed off, growing serious.

“As often happens with mergers, we have had to make some sacrifices, the main one being that there will be staff lay-offs. And I regret to inform all of you that you will be made redundant in twenty-eight days.”

There was a seconds pause, and then sounds of shock and protest filled the room. To the man’s credit, the boss looked genuinely sad to have to give the news as he took questions about redundancy payments, contracts and references.

Rafael, however, had just gone numb, not even noticing the damp sweat on his neck anymore. That was it. The new life he was trying to find, had started to build since starting the firm three months ago…it was over. He would have to go back to several low paid jobs at once if he wanted to keep his room. Cheap rooms tended to be cheap for a reason, and he couldn’t put the burden on his cousin again.

His tie was too tight. The room was too hot. And he was all alone with nowhere to go.

****

In the Northern hemisphere, November brought the dark days of winter and Boston was no exception. The excitement of Halloween had passed, although Thanksgiving and Christmas were still on the horizon for people to look forward to.

Matthew Valentine didn’t care. Not that he didn’t like the holidays, but being a doctor in the best hospital in America meant the holidays brought longer working hours. Besides, it had been a rough couple of years and the fresh start of January sounded more appealing for once.

He checked his phone for messages but there were none. Nothing from the person he’d had dinner with three nights ago, and was starting to accept they wouldn’t see each other again. It wasn’t a disappointment as such – the conversation had felt a little forced – but it was difficult not to compare it to the man he had so comfortably clicked with, who had left him behind to live on the south side of the continent. The best things  would always be out of reach.

A cold wind bit his hands – he had forgotten his gloves -  as he went to open his apartment mailbox but there was nothing new. A few takeout flyers for places his friends would look at and agree to try sometime but probably never would.

“Anyone home?” he called out as he entered the living room, but no one was. He just changed out of his work clothes and started preparing a stew.

The methodical chopping of vegetables and the sound of simmering broth was soothing, when a sudden, frantic knock on the door broke through the quiet. Matthew frowned as he walked over, fully prepared to tell some religious weirdos not to bother, but he was completely unprepared for the person who was actually stood on his doorstep.

“…The hell?!”

Rafael was looking back at him, bedraggled and windswept. He had a small suitcase beside him and didn’t quite seem to believe it either.

“Hey,” he said weakly. “I, um, kind of convinced myself you didn’t live here anymore and…I don’t really know what else to say.”

There were lots of things he could have said – ‘sorry’ being one of them – and Rafael realised he hadn’t chosen the best words when he noticed Matthew’s eyes tightening by just a tiny amount.

“Please,” he said quickly, before Matthew could slam the door in his face. “Let me explain. I’ll…I’ll tell you everything.”

Matthew’s hand tightened on the door knob, but he nodded once and stepped aside to let Rafael in.

“No one else is home yet,” he said, closing the door after them.

“Good. I mean…not that it’s good, I just…I hoped I could see you first.” Raf scratched the back of his neck, glancing at Matthew who was looking away again. Seeing Rafael so lost and out of place in Matthew’s apartment was deeply surreal, and Matthew turned back to the stove to occupy himself. It was a big portion; these days he liked to make sure he’d have plenty of leftovers for the day after. He glanced back at Rafael, then sighed wearily.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not since the plane…”

“Do you want some of this?”

“Um…yes please.”

Matthew took two bowls out of the cupboard and ladled out two portions. Rafael hesitated by the table as Matthew paused. It was concerning how on edge Rafael appeared to be.

“Look, I don’t know when the others will be home…or what they’ll say,” he said. “If you’d prefer privacy we can go into my room.”

Rafael nodded, looking relieved, as he took his suitcase into Matthew’s room, however the enclosed space seemed to amplify the awkward silence as they ate. Not helped that Rafael sat on the edge of the bed and Matthew sat at the desk with his back to him.

Finally, even the clinking of the silverware fell silent. Rafael cautiously placed his empty bowl on the bedside table. Matthew didn’t turn around. He wasn’t going to be the one making the first move.

“I know you weren’t expecting to see me at your doorstep,” Rafael said cautiously. “But truthfully I was barely thinking straight. I just…I felt like I needed to get back to Boston and…all I could think about was when we were saying goodbye and you said I’d always have a place to stay with you.”

Matthew remembered the softly spoken promise he’d made during the goodbye that had shattered his heart. He’d never really believe Rafael would come straight back to him when he had his whole family waiting, and yet here he was. And he had no intention of breaking that promise now. Rafael notice his posture soften slightly.

“So…what happened to make you come back so suddenly?” Matthew asked. “Did you…did someone hurt you, or…?”

“No, nothing like that.” Rafael scratched the back of his neck. “What tipped me over the edge was…I got made redundant. I had been grinding several jobs once I got to Brazil, then I got a job in vulnerable client law and thought I’d be able to make that work. But then the firm announced they were merging with another and a bunch of jobs would be cut.”

“Including yours,” Matthew said. He finally turned around to look at him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Was there a way to stay in Brazil?”

“I would have had to go back to my cousin’s one room apartment, or work multiple jobs again. And my cousin is great, and so helpful, but I didn’t want to impose. And the jobs…I was exhausted already. I almost couldn’t bear to look at who was hiring. The fall from having my next steps planned out to having to starting over again was almost overwhelming.”

“So…you came back to the American Dream?” Matthew said dryly.

“I came back to the city I knew best.”

“You came back to me,” Matthew said flatly. “I just don’t understand why you’d turn up to my apartment first, of all places. Does Sora even know you’re back?”

“Oh…we broke up a couple months after I moved,” Rafael explained, and Matthew’s tension returned. “The distance…I think it just exposed that we weren’t right for each other anymore. It’s been a long time since high school…” He bit his lip. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I put you through so much…”

“And you think ‘sorry’ is just going to make it better?!” Matthew burst out. He had tried to accept it was Sora, not he, who was meant for Rafael and had tried to support and encourage Raf’s move without revealing his own hurt, but now he couldn’t stop the frustration from coming tumbling out. “I didn’t think you were the type to chop and change. You dropped me pretty quickly, hopped on a plane to Brazil, did the same to Sora, and then decided to pick up where you left off?”

“That’s not fair,” Rafael said coldly. “None of those decisions were taken lightly, I’ve always tried to do what’s right by everyone.”

“Calling me one random night to tell me you were choosing the other guy?”

“Hey! I said I would come to you to talk in person, you told me to tell you then and there!”

“I figured it didn’t matter since the end result would be the same,” Matthew growled, turning away from Rafael again and pushing a hand through his hair. “Did you think I’d just fall at your feet and forgive you?”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness, I just…I…”

“Dammit, Raf, why the hell did you just show up at my apartment?!” Matthew snapped, slamming his hand on the desk as he turned back round.

“Because I still like you, OK?” Raf groaned. “I do still like you and I screwed everything up at every turn and maybe I thought to come back here because I missed you!”

“So what did you want—”

“I don’t know what I thought, or what I wanted to happen! I honestly wasn’t thinking of anything except what I was doing in the moment.” He scratched the back of his neck, then rubbed his face. “Honestly I think I just wanted to see that you were OK. And happy.”

There was a pause after that and Rafael eventually looked up to see Matthew was glaring at him, not just in anger but with deep hurt. The knuckles gripping the back of his desk chair were white and his lips were pressed together…and tears were welling in his eyes.

“Matthew…”

“I’m not,” Matthew said, shortly. “And you’re not the only one who can pack up and leave.”

“What do you mean?”

Matthew stood and pulled a handful of notes from a binder on his desk and chucked them onto the bed. Raf quickly scanned the first page: New York Pres Matthew had scrawled Pros: east coast, high standards of diagnostics, patient satisfaction…

“I’ve been thinking about leaving Boston after my residency; it’s probably easier to move on with your life in a city that someone didn’t live in all their life. And I actually did start feeling better when I was researching other hospitals, and now you’ve reappeared and made everything complicated again…” The tears started falling before he could stop. “I never stopped liking you, and god I tried. Recently I’ve been more hopeful than I had been for months and you being here is just…god, if there was a chance…” his voice trailed off and he turned away, wiping his eyes as the memories came back.

It had taken him by surprise when he’d started falling for Raf, having never really had strong feelings for anyone. He hadn’t realised how much his mind would wander, thinking about Raf in the middle of a work shift, but it had always been lovely when they met up after work and Raf was equally happy to see him as he was to see Raf. Raf had brought magic to the mundane: even if they were just going to go home to watch TV and sleep, it was exciting. Because they were together and that was all that mattered.

And then it was gone in one afternoon, with a single phone call, and now the surprise was how the break up had been almost physically painful like Raf had torn it in two with his bare hands. And suddenly nothing was interesting anymore, as if the world had lost it’s colour. The potential future – travelling together, meeting the others family and friends – had gone up in smoke, with nothing taking it’s place. Raf had a new partner, and then a new country, and Matthew was left adrift. He had started putting together the steps to leave Boston by himself, and his dear friends had done their best to keep his head above water…and here was Raf, unexpectedly trampling on it yet again.

“Why do you keep doing this? You just show up and…change the trajectory of my life and…it’s like I can’t be at peace.”

He cringed inwardly, wondering why the hell he’d got so corny all of a sudden, but Raf didn’t seem to notice. He stood up slowly.

“I’m so truly sorry for everything,” he whispered. “I wish…well, I wish I could undo a lot of things. But…if you want me to leave, I’ll go. If you never want to see me again, I understand.”

“I…”

The sensible thing to do would have been just that, to see Raf out the door, block his number and put Boston behind him. But…

“I don’t want you to go,” he muttered. “At least, not now. I just…god, I don’t know. This is just insane. I thought I’d be coming home to eat, research and then go to bed. Not this.”

“I’m sorry for this too,” Raf said, seeming almost desperate. “Matthew, please…whatever you need to say, just say it.”

I love you. The words were on his tongue and had been ever since Raf had been injured during a call out to a subway derailment two years ago. He’d avoided saying it then for fear of it being too early, then refused to say it when Raf left for Boston for fear of being selfish and disrupting his life plans. He’d regretted both accounts…but somehow he couldn’t say it now. Not yet.

He looked up at Raf with narrowed eyes.

“You hurt me.”

“I know. I’m sor—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. You keep saying that…but you haven’t said why you broke up with me in the first place.”

Raf spluttered, glancing away nervously and then back at Matthew as he tried to straighten his words out.

“Well…long story short…I convinced myself I wouldn’t be enough for you.”

“What?!”

“Because you’re cool and clever with an amazing career ahead of you. I didn’t think I could have anything to offer in return. And…part of the reason I decided to move to Brazil was that, on a subconscious level, I was running away from the unresolved feelings. It wasn’t fair on you, or Sora.”

Raf was doing his best to hide his tears but Matthew’s eyes were glistening and it was getting harder and harder to retain control.

“You say that…did you ever ask?” Matthew groaned. He stepped closer. “Did you know that I could have talked to you about everything? You were so important to me…I thought I was so lucky, we had it so good…”

Matthew’s tears started to fall and Rafael couldn’t hold back anymore. He let out a choked sob and, with a trembling hand, he ever so gently cupped Matthew’s face and brushed away one o his tears.

“We did,” he choked. “And you did nothing wrong. I screwed everything up, please don’t think you were to blame for anything.”

Matthew leaned into Raf’s touch, closing his eyes for a minute. Their foreheads rested together, enough for him to feel Raf’s trembling breath. His touch was making Matthew’s skin tingle. He gazed at Raf’s lips, remembering how soft they were…

He leaned forward and kissed Rafael. Raf tensed, but before Matthew could pull away, he wrapped his arms around him and returned his kiss. Soft and gentle, like Matthew remembered, but it was also like he was afraid Matthew might break.

“Stay,” Matthew whispered against his lips, and Raf kissed him again, gentle and sweet.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Their kisses continued, just soft and gentle, nothing feverish or demanding. It was as if they were afraid of scaring the other if they moved too fast. Matthew wondered if he was dreaming…and he was in no hurry to wake up.

The sound of the front door and voices in the living room drew them apart. Matthew’s roommates were home; it was now very difficult for Raf to leave without being spotted.

“Maybe I could climb through your window?” Raf suggested, wondering if the window would even open wide enough, but Matthew snorted.

“What are we, high schoolers? Look, it’s been a long day, especially for you. Just…stay here for a night. You can come up with a plan in the morning.”

“Thank you. I’ll sleep on the floor if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

Matthew supressed the urge to roll his eyes as he sat down on the bed. Raf hesitated for a second before cautiously sitting beside him.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you tonight,” Matthew said gently. “Y’know, about you chopping and changing.”

“Well, I probably deserved that,” Raf sighed. “Like you said, I hurt you. I don’t blame you for being angry.”

“It’s that kind of grace that makes you one of the best people I know,” Matthew sighed. “How could you think you weren’t enough? I’ve never felt safer than I did with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Even though I said I’d be at peace if you had stayed away. That’s not true.” He clasped his hands in his lap, looking down at them. “I’ve been a little bit lost without you.”

Raf carefully edged closer.

“I meant everything I said tonight,” He said. “I meant every apology and I meant it when I said I still like you. And if there were even the slightest chance of us being able to start over, I would take it without hesitation. But…if you’re serious about leaving Boston, I won’t stand in your way.”

“I…don’t know,” Matthew sighed. “About leaving Boston, I mean. There are reasons beside you for me to stay.”

“Like your friends? The diagnostics team?”

“Yeah, partly. But also we were bought out by this tech billionaire last year. So much money was thrown at the hospital and everyone got a big raise. I did the math…if I’m careful, I could pay off most if not all of my med school debt in five years.”

“That’s big. From what I know of med school debt, if you can pay it off soon that’s not to be sniffed at.”

“Exactly. I’m not gonna lie, that’s probably my biggest reason for staying in Boston for now.”

There was a brief pause. They could hear the sounds of Elijah’s video game from the living room.

“When I said I’d never stopped liking you and wanted you to stay, I meant that,” Matthew said. “But…I don’t think we should make any decisions right now. I need to properly consider my options for after my residency. And…well, don’t take this the wrong way but you need to sort your life out.”

Matthew smiled at him nervously and Raf laughed.

“You’re not wrong,” he said softly, and for the first time that evening they had relaxed. Matthew sat back and stretched out on his bed, giving Raf an easy smile that made his pulse quicken as he returned it. But the stress of the day and the flight were taking it’s toll, and Raf yawned.

“Do you mind if I get some sleep? I can set up on the floor…”

“Raf, you’re not sleeping on the floor. If you’ll be more comfortable on the bed, take it.”

“Thank you,” Raf murmured.

Matthew waited for Raf to settle down and get comfortable, turning off the main light and keeping the bedside lamp on. He planned to read to get sleepy, but he couldn’t resist lying down for a minute and sliding his hand through his.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you, too.”

****

Matthew woke a few minutes before his alarm, which seemed to be a regular occurrence these days. He could sense Rafael sleeping beside him even before he’d opened his eyes. It was hard to believe last night had really happened. Now…where to go from here?

He remained still, not wanting to wake him, just watching the rise and fall of his chest until the alarm went off, and Raf stirred and groaned.

“I have to get ready for work,” Matthew murmured. Raf might have said something in response as he climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom, coming back a few minutes later freshly scrubbed.

He put on a pale green shirt and dark green sweater with dark trousers, drawing in a deep breath as he drew in his Dr Valentine persona. Raf had barely moved.

“Raf? I can leave you the key if you need to sleep longer…”

“No, that’s OK,” Raf groaned, though he sat up with great reluctance. “I…should probably go back to my family sooner rather than later.”

“So…um…if you don’t sneak out now, you’ll likely run into my roommates,” Matthew said awkwardly. “Which is fine, but…to be honest, Jackie in particular…well, you’re not her favourite person at the moment.”

“That’s OK. It’s a bit early to explain everything now anyway.” Rafael sighed. He stood up and straightened his clothes. “What about…you and me?”

“I’m not promising to stay in Boston,” Matthew warned.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Good. But…I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in where this might go.”

Rafael’s expression lifted with hope as he scratched the back of his neck.

“In that case…when things are more settled, could I take you on a date?”

Matthew did his best to hide a small smile.

“Ask me again when things are more settled.”

****

Although he’d been wearing the same clothes for more than a day, Raf went into a small café for breakfast to give his family some more time to wake up. He was a little anxious at the reception he might get after turning up out of the blue, but it turned out he needn’t have worried. Juliana shrieked in delight and embraced him in a huge hug before he’d even said hello. His parents reacted similar once they’d gotten over the shock and all of them promised Raf he could stay rent-free with them for as long as he needed.

After careful consideration, Raf decided he would start training as an occupational therapist. A medical administrator position was open at Edenbrook which he applied for and got, which would keep him going during his applications and training (Matthew had been right about the exponential pay rise). Everyone at Edenbrook seemed happy to see him back, even his old friends.

Jackie was tricky to win over. Although Matthew had discouraged everyone from taking sides, Jackie had sided with Matthew and turned noticeably colder to Rafael. She wasn’t too pleased about his sudden return to Boston, determined to make sure he wasn’t using it as a romantic gesture to win Matthew back over.

Matthew himself took a little while to relax, which Rafael had somewhat expected. After the night in Matthew’s bedroom, they didn’t spend time together alone for nearly a month, instead meeting up for drinks at Donahue’s or games at the apartment with the whole group. But Raf noticed over the weeks, Matthew relaxed when they sat next to each other, his gaze grew soft, and the jokes came easier. Once Rafael was confirmed to start his new admin job, he asked Matthew on a date as promised.

He decided to take them somewhere they hadn’t been to together before. Although the street markets were great and their favourites were favourites for a reason, they were starting anew. And what better way to start afresh than by introducing Matthew to a new haunt?

Matthew hugely enjoyed the pop-up brasserie Rafael decided to take them to. The stroganoff he ordered was delicious, the vanilla souffle even more so. But best of all was how the time had flown by as conversation between he and Rafael ran without pause, and they talked and laughed as if nothing else had changed. When they were done eating they slowly wandered through the city; Raf had wanted to walk Matthew home and Matthew was happy to keep the night going.

“Thanks for walking me home,” he said…then carefully cupped Rafael’s face in his hand and stepped closer to kiss him. Raf responded in kind, as gentle and sweet as he always had been.

“Does this mean I can take you out again?” He asked, resting his forehead against Matthew’s.

“Maybe I want to take you out first,” Matthew teased, kissing Raf again.

He wanted to tell Raf that he loved him, but he continued to make himself wait. This honeymoon period would pass, and then he’d know for sure it was real.

Months later, Raf would be staying overnight. They would be lying together in the early hours of the morning, not asleep but not quite awake, when Raf would pull him close. Matthew would lie with his head against Raf’s chest and brush his fingertips against Raf’s warm skin.

“I love you.”

He said it quietly, quiet enough that Raf could pretend he hadn’t heard. Instead Raf held him closer.

“I love you too.”

And some years after that, they would whisper those words to each other again, as they stood hand-in-hand, in front of their cheering family and friends, their eyes blurred with happy tears as they sealed their marriage vows.

[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 19: the whump morning after! @whumperless-whump-event

tending to injuries / domestic hurt comfort / “let's check the bandages, okay?”

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Simon

whumpee: Archie

guys. it's here. i can't explain why but i think this is my favorite simon and archie fic i've written and i literally wrote it the week after i made them so PLS ENJOY!!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“Ow ow ow! Fuck!”

“Easy, easy! Jeez Archie, relax, would you? Are you trying to run a marathon or something?”

“I have to pee!”

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed.

“We’ll take it slow. The last thing we need is you popping a stitch because you're rushing it. That cut was a pain in the ass to suture.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just help me? Please?”

Simon sighed.

Patrol nights were always rough on Archie. At least during the fights, he was always too hopped up on adrenaline to notice how injured he really was, and he usually conked out before Simon finished patching him up.

The mornings, however, were unrelenting. 

Every ache, bruise, slash and sprain from the night before now made itself very apparent, and Archie wasn’t able to ignore it.

As for this particular night, it had been a pretty rough fight between Archie and some lackies from a well-known drug operation he had been trying to dismantle. They were dosed on strength enhancers that rivaled Archie’s own abilities, and while he came out on top, it definitely wasn’t an easy fight.

Now, he was sporting a black eye, several broken ribs, a knife wound to the gut, a sprained ankle, a mild concussion, and a mosaic of bruises all over his body.

Rough night indeed.

“Alright, let’s get you up then,” Simon bent down and wrapped his arm under Archie’s. Archie braced as Simon started to guide him up, grunting sharply when they started to move from the couch.

“Go slower.”

“And here I thought you were about to piss yourself.”

“Just go!”

He grit his teeth against the all-consuming jolt of pain that overtook his body. God, the morning after really did suck.

“Alright alright, almost there..” Simon soothed, taking a bit more of his weight. “Just a little more..”

After a ridiculous amount of time, they were both finally standing. Archie was heavily favoring his left ankle as he began his hobble to the bathroom door with Simon’s help. Every step was agony.

“Alright, I’ll be fine from here,” He stated with a wince. He waved Simon away from the hallway, but Simon.. didn’t move.

“Nuh uh. No way. The last time I left you on your own, you fell and cracked your head on the bathtub. I’m waiting right here in the hall.”

“Ew, no! That’s weird! Go away!”

“It’s only weird because you’re making it weird. You forget I’m literally in school to do this for a living. This is strictly professional.”

“Whatever. Weirdo.”

“Strictly. Professional.”

Archie shot Simon a weak scowl as he shut the restroom door behind him.

Simon waited awkwardly for a few moments before he heard a zip, a flush, and the whoosh of the faucet. 

Archie merged from the bathroom, looking absolutely unsteady on his wobbling legs. He was just about to pitch forward when Simon closed the distance between them, slipping an arm around Archie’s waist. “Alright. Back to the couch we go.”

It took another eternity, but finally, Archie was lying down again, significantly paler than when he had started. 

“This sucks.” He whined, breathing deeply through his nose as the aftershocks of pain reverberated through his bones.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should think about that before you try to take on six guys that are three times your size,” Simon retorted, replacing the ice pack on Archie’s ribs. “That was the most stupid thing I’ve seen you do in a while, and I’ve seen you do some pretty stupid things.”

Archie would have crossed his arms indignantly if he could.

“You should have seen the other guys..” He muttered under his breath, rather childishly.

Still, despite his banter, the way sweat was beading on Archie’s brow and the way his face was void of all color was not lost on Simon.

“Hey, let’s check those bandages, okay? I think you might have popped a stitch after all.”

“I did not. I would know.”

“You absolutely wouldn’t. Lift your shirt.”

Archie rolled his eyes and slowly lifted the fabric to reveal… a bright red stain on the gauze.

He didn’t have to look at Simon to know the kind of smirk he was sporting.

Simon made quick work of replacing the suture and re-wrapping the wound. His hands worked deftly and with a practiced manner that Archie found himself feeling.. saddened by. He couldn’t quite explain it. It was more of the realization that Simon had been doing this for a while, enough that it was second nature, and Archie had done.. well, nearly nothing for him. He had yet to repay him for his undying generosity.

“Simon..” He began. His voice faltered the slightest bit. “Do you.. ever get tired of.. this.” He motioned vaguely to himself.

At the sudden change in conversation, a mixture of anger, hurt, and surprise flashed across Simon’s face. 

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean.. well..” Archie swallowed the lump in his throat and averted his gaze. “This can’t be fun for you. You come back from classes, from work, probably exhausted, and have to deal with me. I just.. I don’t want you to think you have to do it. I’ll be fine on my own if you don't want to. You’ve taught me enough that I--”

“Archie. Look at me.”

Archie drew his gaze up and met Simon’s unwavering eyes. 

“Listen to me. I don’t ever want you to think I am just dealing with you. I do this because I genuinely want to. Nobody is forcing me, I’m doing it because you deserve it. Archie, I know I don’t say it a lot, but you do so much to help others,” He said breathlessly, taking Archie hand and holding it tightly. “You deserve someone that will do the same for you.”

Suddenly, Archie found himself scrubbing viciously at traitorous tears that spilled over. Before he could say anything else, Simon pulled him into an embrace. It was the kind of hug that cradles every part of your soul, every part of your being.

He wept openly in Simon’s arms.

“You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not,” He hummed, rubbing Archie’s back and pulling away slowly.

“So you’d better start learning how to dodge.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Fic Snippet: In Buccleuch Docks

I have a snippet from a Nobby WIP that actually touches upon the topics of my last two asks, so... for anyone interested!...

This was a fic toying with inventing a Nobby visit to Barrow (specifically to be displayed in the docks for a week) in the early '60s, mostly as an excuse for me to have him see the steelworks engines and Edward again, for the first time since 1941. Not sure if this is going to be "canon" or not, but it was fun to draft.

1964, maybe

There was a pause, as both watched the great yellow-and-black hammerhead crane slowly swing a piece of container freight. Coppernob was impassive as ever, but Edward was smiling.

It was the blue engine who next spoke. "Town has never been the same without you… I expect you’re getting a good many visitors here?"

"By the train-load," said Coppernob, matter-of-factly. "They really ought to have put me at the new station. Me being here is a disruption to dock operations."

"They may move you, yet. Have you seen the new station?"

"No. But you needn't wrack your smokebox thinking how to break the news gently. I know very well how ugly it is."

Edward smiled again, tamping down a nostalgic sadness that he knew Coppernob wouldn't appreciate. (Or that he would appreciate, but would take aim at anyway, by reflex.) "Gordon complained about the new station every night for two years."

"He left off complaining too soon." Coppernob eyed the younger engine, committing several mechanical alterations to memory. "Are those new frames?"

"No?"

"Don't take that tone with me. Well, if they're the same old, then that paint is doing wonders. New boiler?"

"No."

"Then why did they raise it?"

"They did swap out for a new one, while mine was in repairs, and that one required these braces. It seems they liked the look. I'm still not so sure."

"No one cares what you think, son," said Coppernob dryly. "If you please your directors, it's all that matters."

"Thanks, Nobby. Can always count on you."

"Always. You're still taking main line trains, then?"

"Not often." Edward grew quite animated. "My friend BoCo usually takes this train. He offered it to me for a day so that I could come see you. He's a class 28 — you've seen them, haven't you? The main line diesel-electrics that are stabled here. Do you know, they were built by the company that merged with Vickers?"

"All right, son." Coppernob eyed him askance. Not exactly reproving, but bemused. "I didn't need your friend's life story." A faint blush began to grow on the Seagull's smokebox. "So what do you do these days, when you're not swapping jobs with dodgy diesels?"

"He's not dodgy..."

[averygayplant]

Ninjago hcs because I'm gay and sad-

Post-Seabound hc! Jay spent a few months alone as a sailor following vague sightings and leads on Nya as the water dragon. After his first and last close call in a storm that threw him overboard (in which he's secretly convinced a ✨certain somebody✨ intervened in his near demise), Jay woke up alive somehow on the shore of the lighthouse island and decided there and then that he was done looking.

^As an add on to this, when they went looking for him in crystallized, they had to track down Ronin, as he was the last person to have radio contact with Jay. They teamed up to find Nya because Ronin is a morally grey, personally driven man of ambiguity who respected Nya quite a bit and Jay was fully desperate enough to take him on his word. (Shh, I know he was in prison okay, he totally got himself out within a few days, he's slippery)

Lloyd had to redistinguish his own fears and reflexes after Morro. For a while, he'd flinch at the sound of sloshing water or if anything splashed on him without him expecting it and nearly walked off of tall places without thinking several times- gave the others a heart attack every time he did.

A lot of Lloyd's underlying Oni traits manifested after Crystalized- including the capability to purr, which now happens any time someone runs their fingers through his hair long enough.

United hc- Jay started a Sonic Underground style musical glamrock rebellion against Imperium oppression after getting flung in the merge, and has been rock and rolling ever since (if you want to be nice to our poor boys Cole got flung with him and now they rock and roll together)

I've said this one before but idc I'm fucking right; Zane has a collection of onsies, most of them being snow based animals. His favorite is the snow leopard one (he lets Pixal borrow them frequently)

Jay is genderqueer, so while he/him pronouns are generally preferred, occasionally being referred to with she/her and as 'Nya's wife' is extremely validating.

I've said this one before too but you can fight me, I'm still right- Kai hates large bodies of water, but he loves the rain, and has gotten himself deathly ill frolicking autistically in it on multiple occasions.

When Pixal started dreaming, she was quite confused, and went to Zane, slightly concerned that her memory had been corrupted some how. After a little investigation he realized she'd had her first dream and got more excited than a puppy at the prospect of walkies- accidentally forgetting to explain what was so exciting to Pixal for another twenty minutes.

Lloyd and FSM had a much longer conversation than what we were shown in canon, okay? They sat in the grass and had tea that didn't exist a second ago and talked about life and death and humans and the very first elemental masters and whatever else an infinitely wise being an a traumatized 15yo talk about. Their conversation lasted several days.

Mystake was functionally a godmother to the FSM bloodline and absolutely babysat for Wu when Morro was still a little boy.

idk, i had more but I'm tired of writing-

[freyasilverbough]

The Cave Bear and the White Wolf - Warrior of the Moon

A merging of previously posted parts, slightly rewritten. My OC acting insane based on a run I did where I aggroed Moonrise and didn’t have my party with me (I’ve been Baldur’s bored lately after 1500+ hours combined between console and pc lmao I wanted to see if I could 💀).

Read on AO3 here

Cw for blood, death, canon typical violence, slightly explicit towards the end. Some fluff and hurt/comfort. Vague mention of a suicide (?) in reference to Kar’niss being convinced to drop the lantern and walk into the curse.

Word count: 4,061

“Fucking hells.”

Halsin’s eyes snapped open at Freya’s voice, still hoarse from all she’d endured the day before. He had discovered what was wrong with Thaniel while Freya slept and though he wanted so badly to put his plan into action, he knew that Freya would have his balls if he went without her. 

She was, of course, already trying to sit up on her own. Halsin moved from his chair to perch on the edge of her bed and used one hand to push her back down gently. 

“How do you feel?” He asked her. 

“Oh, all-powerful archdruid, I’m in such pain. Put me from my misery, I beg you,” she retorted with a dramatic eye roll. Her sense of humor had returned, at least. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his chest as he lightly flicked her nose and she snapped her teeth at him. “Honestly, Halsin, I’m fine. I’ll die of boredom if you don’t let me up, and then everyone’s efforts will be wasted.”

Damn stubborn woman, he thought as he slid his arm under her shoulders and helped her sit up. Freya winced slightly as her sore muscles adjusted to the movement, and when she was sitting upright she started testing her injured shoulder. 

She did not behave like a woman who had just been at death’s door the previous day, that much was certain. 

Freya looked down at the leg that had been sliced open to find it clad in clean black cotton pants. She shot Halsin a glare, apparently thinking he got her naked while she was unconscious or something. Not that he didn’t want to get her naked. 

“Not me,” he said quickly. “Shadowheart brought clothes for you last night since your others were shredded.” She ran a hand through her hair, finding it unbraided and clean. “That was me, I’m afraid. I figured if you wanted red hair, you’d dye it on purpose, and the blood was starting to stain.”

Freya huffed a small laugh. “Perhaps it would be easier if I did dye it. Silver is so inconvenient.”

They sat there next to each other in silence for several moments. 

“I know you’re not one for sentimentality, but I need you to hear this. I thought you were going to die yesterday. You are, perhaps, the strongest person I’ve ever met, and without a doubt the fiercest warrior. No one here doubts your skills or your strength,” Halsin started. 

“My brother always said that anything before the word ‘but’ is bullshit,” Freya answered. It was the first time Halsin had heard her say a word about her family, and he didn’t even think she realized she said it. 

“But,” he continued. “Even you cannot face everything alone. I am here to be your ear as you bear your burdens and the arms that protect you when you can shoulder them no more. If you aren’t ready to share your mind with me, at least let me mend your body when it comes back to me bleeding and bruised.”

Freya let his words sink in for a long moment, her blue eyes lining with silver as she took a deep breath. “Az would’ve loved you,” she whispered. “He would’ve smacked me upside the head and called me a stubborn brat.” She swiped at her eyes and let out a sad laugh. “Where I’m from, every favor has a price. There’s only ever been one person I could really trust to watch my flank, and he’s been gone a long time. I couldn’t protect my brother, but I can protect all of you.” She stood, gingerly testing her weight on her bad leg, and faced Halsin. Without any of her armor on, and missing her sword and shield, she was just a woman with the weight of the world on her slender shoulders. 

She was choosing to be vulnerable with him, to share some pieces of herself that she had kept locked away for Silvanus knew how long. He took both of her hands in his and let blue light flow from his palms to hers to soothe her lingering aches.

“My friend, you rescued a bear from a cage and certain death without knowing if it would kill you. You saved my grove and showed Kagha the errors of her ways. You held the line and almost lost your life to help me find my oldest friend. If you believe that my aid comes with a debt, consider it paid a hundred times over.”

Freya brushed her thumb over Halsin’s knuckles and gave him a quick nod. For her to share with him that small bit about her past, he knew, took greater courage than anything else she’d faced since he joined her camp. That knowledge made his heart nearly burst. 

“Let’s get Thaniel back to camp,” she said, breaking the tension. “He’ll be safest with us.” She let go of Halsin’s hands and looked around the room. “Where in the sweet hells is my armor?” 

Halsin laughed. “I gave it to Dammon for repairs. Wait here, I’ll go see if he’s finished.” Freya backed up a step so he could stand, dwarfing the paladin as he did. 

“You know, you’re quite large for an elf,” she blurted. 

“I am? You don’t say!” Playful sarcasm laced his tone as he laughed once more. “Trust me, it’s been said. You’ve shown more restraint than most in avoiding the subject until now.” Indeed, with them standing so close to each other, he noticed how tall he was in comparison to her. The top of her head barely reached his chest. He still had no doubt she could obliterate him in a fight if she wished. 

She shoved at his shoulder. “Whatever, old man. Go make sure Dammon hasn’t ruined my armor.”

As Halsin left the room and closed the door behind him, Jaheira caught his eye and raised her wine glass in his direction. Her eyes twinkled in amusement as she gave him a knowing look. 

It seemed the woman did know everything that happened in her inn, after all.

-------

“Hey, Dammon,” Halsin called as he approached the blacksmith. 

“Hey, how is she?” Dammon asked as he turned to the larger man, clasping Halsin’s forearm in greeting. 

“She’s awake. Wants her armor back.” Dammon chuckled and nodded to where her suit lay on his workbench, polished and free of all the dents that adorned it after the battle the day before. “You do work fast, impressive.”

“I added some extra reinforcements to the plate. It’s a good set, but there are too many gaps in it for someone who takes as many hits as Freya does.” 

“Actually, I wondered if you might be able to make something,” Halsin said as he pulled the sketchbook he kept from his pocket and handed it to the smith. 

Dammon looked the sketches over for a long moment, his brows creasing as he mapped his new project in his head. “Yeah, I think I can manage it. Give me a moment to measure the other set, I have plenty of steel and scraps of scalemail thanks to Talli. Should take me about a week or so.” 

Halsin thanked the tiefling as he gathered Freya’s armor and turned back to the inn. “Oh, Dammon?” He called over his shoulder. “Keep it quiet, would you?” 

--------

They were heading for Moonrise that day. Freya was a ball of nerves, wound so tight that he was sure any minor inconvenience would cause her to snap. She was worried that Ketheric might recognize her, and therefore put her newfound friends at risk, so she insisted that everyone wait outside while she went in and “tested the waters.” 

Halsin didn’t like it one bit. There were too many things that could go wrong in there, and while he didn’t doubt Freya’s abilities, he also wouldn’t underestimate Ketheric Thorm. 

“Take Astarion inside with you at the very least,” he tried to reason with her. She just glared in response. “He knows how to stay hidden and he can back you up if something goes wrong.”

“Remember how you insisted that you were the only one who could enter the Shadowfell? This is like that,” she snapped. “If Ketheric recognizes me, it’s all over. The rest of you have an advantage, he’s got no clue who you are and if I fall, you can still infiltrate the tower. If you’re with me, and things go sideways, he’ll behead you for association before you even know what’s happening. I won’t put anyone here at risk because I apparently failed to kill him a hundred years ago.”

She’d removed her headband and earrings that marked her as a follower of Selûne. Instead of her plated armor, she sported black leather and wore a hood to cover her silver hair. She had striped her face with black kohl to hide the scar over the bridge of her nose. She looked more like an assassin than a paladin. 

Halsin ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. The archdruid in him wanted to command her to stay behind, to let the others scout the tower if she was so worried about being recognized. He knew that such a command would just piss her off, that she would never ask another to do something she herself wasn’t willing to do. 

The plan was that he would wait just outside the moonshield with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart. With the pixie’s blessing, they’d be protected from the curse while the cultists were forced to stay in the light. If Ketheric recognized Freya and she somehow made it out of the tower, Astarion would pick off the cultists with his bow and Gale would open a portal to Last Light, while Shadowheart and Halsin would make sure they all survived. 

If Freya made it out. He’d never admit to her that the thought she may not make it made his bones run cold and his heart sink to his gut. He wanted to go with her, to protect her, to stand between the oathbreaker and the faithful and give her a chance to flee. 

Freya stepped closer to him and looked into his eyes, a cold determination hardening the blue. “If I fall, be assured that I plan on taking every damned cultist I can down with me.”

“You once told me your brother always said that anything before the word ‘but’ is bullshit,” Halsin echoed her words from the week before. 

“But,” a smirk lifted her perfect lips. “I have no intention of dying today. By my oath, I will do everything in my power to see justice come to Ketheric Thorm.”

When she invoked her oath, Halsin knew that there was no more arguing to be done. She stood firm in her choice. All he could do was pray to Silvanus and every other god that would listen that she would return to him. 

“Let’s get this over with, then,” he said, clapping her shoulder as he strode to meet the others before departure.

--------

Halsin paced just outside the moonshield, watching the huge oak doors of the tower as if he could see through them and glimpse what was happening. 

“Would you settle down? You’re making us dizzy,” Astarion whined from the stump he perched on, carving new arrows with his knife. 

Halsin ignored him and carried on as he was. 

“Don’t be an ass, Astarion. It’s giving you wrinkles,” Shadowheart quipped. 

“Honestly, I doubt there’s anything to be that worried about. We watched our favorite paladin sweet-talk a drider into killing himself.” 

Halsin stopped his pacing when bells sounded from the tower and he heard the faint shouts of the guards. His breath caught in his throat as he stopped just in front of the moonshield. 

He strained his ears, hearing the faint clashing of swords from inside the tower. 

Freya. 

If there was fighting, she was alive. Halsin breathed a sigh of relief before that relief quickly turned to panic. Who was she fighting? What was she doing? Freya was formidable, to be sure, but one soldier against an entire stronghold? She’d either had no choice, or she was completely mad. 

The oak doors at the tower’s entrance blew open with an explosion of silver moonfire, and out poured a host of gnomes, tieflings, and…

Was that Minthara? 

Freya followed close behind, covered once again in blood and glowing with the rush of battle. Her hood had fallen and her braids swung wildly behind her. She pulled something from her pocket and launched it toward Astarion as the gnomes and tieflings ran across the bridge. 

“Tell the pixie to protect the prisoners from the curse! HURRY!” She screamed as he caught it. Halsin vaguely registered Astarion following her order, but his focus was on her. Minthara stood with her as the prisoners fled from the battle. The drow had no weapon, but she had a paladin’s magic and was using it to compel foes to halt, flee, drop their weapons as Freya struck them down. 

Gale muttered incantations under his breath as purple magic began to swirl around him. A portal appeared, and Shadowheart ushered the prisoners through to safety. Astarion drew his bow and fired as Freya and Minthara sprinted across the bridge. One of the guards dodged Astarion’s arrow at the last second and reached out to grab Freya by the braids, and Halsin decided he’d had enough. 

He let the earth guide him as he shifted, fur and claws erupting where there were once skin and hands. He leaped over the two women and tore out the guard’s throat, letting loose a roar of fury. When the drow crossed the portal, Freya slid to a stop and approached to stand at Halsin’s side. 

“Well. I may have started a bit of a fight,” she said as more guards poured through the doors. “We should probably go.” Halsin shifted back to his elven form and grabbed Freya’s hand, the two of them sprinting through Gale’s portal. 

Halsin stumbled as his feet touched the ground outside Last Light, and Freya landed on her hands and knees. Reunions and celebrations were happening all around them, but he couldn’t bring himself to gaze at anything but Freya. She sat back on her heels, tilted her face to the sky, and laughed. Cackled like a godsdamned madwoman, covered in her enemies’ blood and viscera. Perhaps she’d taken a pommel to the head. 

“Fucking hells, that felt good,” she said between her laughs, trying and failing to catch her breath. Halsin leveled a glare in her direction. “Oh come on now, they were taking Minthara to the cells to erase her mind. I was on a time crunch,” she said to him. 

“Yeah, that’s another thing we’re going to talk about. Minthara, Freya? I thought she was dead!” Halsin tried to keep his voice level, but his anger raised the volume. 

“I thought she was too, turns out she’s tougher than I thought.” Freya got to her feet and crossed her arms in defiance as if she hadn’t just saved the drow who’d threatened his grove not two months before. 

“She’s an oathbreaker, Freya. She’ll slit your throat in your sleep now that you’ve set her free. What in all the Nine Hells were you thinking?!”

“They’re arguing about me, aren’t they?” He heard the drow ask someone behind him. It took every ounce of will he possessed to keep from turning his wrath on her. 

“Don’t worry, Freya always wins him over. She has a thing for taking in strays,” Astarion responded. 

“She’s an oathbreaker, yes, but you’ll make one of me if you ask me to send her back to the shadows. She was controlled by the tadpole when she planned to take the grove, a fate I would’ve faced myself were it not for blind, stupid luck. Who knows what they would’ve made me do, had the prism not intervened? Minthara is a valuable asset whose goals align with our own, for now. If she turns on us, I’ll cut her down myself.” Freya’s tone quickly turned from exuberant to commanding as she spoke, returning Halsin’s glare and spreading her stance. 

“You would die in the attempt, but it’s a noble thought,” Minthara retorted. Halsin whipped around to face the drow and Freya circled him so she stood between them, gripping her sword as she did. 

“I don’t like her either, Halsin, but I must hold to the tenets of my oath and I must accept every sword I am offered in this fight.” Freya’s gaze softened just a fraction and Halsin knew she was right. Fuck, but she could talk him into biting off his own hand if she wanted. 

He looked over Freya’s shoulder to the drow. “The first sign of trouble, and you’re gone,” he said to her. 

“Oh, I intend to cause plenty, but only for our enemies.”

--------

Back at camp, Halsin’s whittling turned into a pile of slivers in his frustration. He was still so angry with Freya, she was only meant to “test the waters,” as she had said. Instead, the woman took it upon herself to tackle an entire stronghold on her own.

He knew she would do it all over again to save those prisoners, and he couldn’t exactly fault her for it. He didn’t know the exact words of her oath, but he knew that most paladins were bound to defend the innocent. The tenets of her oath would always come above her own safety, and something about that fact aggravated him to no end. Did she just not value her own life the way she valued others? 

She materialized before him as if she could read his thoughts. She leaned on a tree and bit down on an apple, without a care in the world. She wore a sleeveless cotton top that accentuated every curve and muscle of her lithe torso and dipped low into her cleavage. Her moonlight hair was unbound and she’d washed the black from her face. 

She looked like a godsdamned angel, and that just made Halsin angrier. 

“You’re upset,” she stated, taking another bite of her apple. 

Halsin took a deep breath, willing his centuries of training in patience to kick in and chase the rage from his bones. “Yes,” he responded. 

“Look, I made a call in the moment. I’ve spoken with Minthara, and I believe she’ll stand with us against the Absolute. They scarred her mind, and she wants vengeance. If you talked with her yourself, you’d believe her, too.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Minthara.”

“Then why the fuck are you sulking in the farthest corner of camp?” Halsin stood, stalking toward Freya like she was his prey. She pushed off of her tree and straightened, crossing her arms and widening her stance. The movement made her biceps ripple and her breasts pushed together slightly. Halsin pretended that his cock didn’t twitch at the sight. 

He didn’t stop until he was inches away from her. “I’m sulking because you asked - no, demanded - that everyone else stay behind while you went on a fucking suicide mission, Freya. You put yourself at risk again and I cannot figure out how someone with such high regard for others can care for her own life so little. It was stupid, and you know it. I thought we were past this recklessness, that you would finally ask me for help, and then you go and pull this nonsense without a thought for how your friends would feel having to burn your body.”

“Don’t you dare act as if you were there. You didn’t see what they were doing in that prison, Halsin.”

“I didn’t see because you forced me to stay behind!” he yelled. “I wasn’t there because you always insist on standing alone!”

“What would you have me fucking do?! I am somehow responsible for each of the lives in this camp, for each of the souls in Last Light. I’ve been fighting for well over two hundred years, I trust in my own strength even if-“

Halsin couldn’t help it. He took her face in both hands and crashed his lips to hers. She stiffened in his grip for a moment, then melted into his kiss, molding herself to his body. She was a perfect fit. She put both of her small, calloused hands on his chest as one of his own traveled to her waist. He gripped her side as he groaned slightly into her full lips, feeling the ridges of her scars under her shirt. She opened her mouth for him, and their tongues danced in a battle for dominance. 

It was not a sweet kiss, nor a gentle one. He wound the hand that had been cupping her cheek into her long hair, wrapping it around his fist. He moved her back against the tree and the hand on her side inched up to her breast as she moaned into his mouth. It was the sweetest godsdamned sound Halsin had ever heard. 

All reason and restraint had left his body in that moment. As he kissed Freya against that tree, there was no Shadow Curse, no invulnerable general, no tadpole swimming in her skull. There was only her. 

That fierce, kind, compassionate, reckless woman whose loyalty had no match, whose strength could challenge gods and rattle the stars. He’d taken many lovers, always held that his heart roamed as nature willed it, but he knew without a doubt as he held her that she was it for him. Whether she would have him or not, there would never be another. 

Reluctantly, he broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, staring into her bright blue eyes. Both of them were breathless, and he could smell her arousal as his cock stretched the leather of his pants. 

“I wish you could see yourself as I do,” he whispered, before gripping her thighs and hoisting her up to his height. She wrapped her legs around his hips and bared her neck for him in a rare show of vulnerability as his lips wrapped around her soft flesh. His teeth moved their way up to her delicate pointed ear and she ground herself into him with a loud sigh of pleasure. 

He was ready to burst in his pants like an adolescent when a call from Astarion interrupted them. “Freya! Quit fucking the bear, there’s a devil in our camp again, and it’s not Minthara.” 

She broke away from him, panting and thoroughly flushed. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” she murmured. Halsin chuckled and nipped at her throat before releasing his hold on her. He smoothed her hair with his hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She smelled like rosemary and thunderstorms, he realized, as he took a deep inhale. 

“Next time I risk my own hide in an epic act of heroism, I expect to be thoroughly fucked, druid,” she said in a sing-song voice as she turned to hurry back to where an alleged devil waited to meet with her. 

He chuckled to himself as he adjusted his breeches, and jogged to catch up with her. He was in such deep shit.

--------

The devil in question was Wyll’s patron, Mizora. She’d appeared to inform Wyll that he needed to rescue one of Zariel’s assets from Moonrise. Freya agreed on Wyll’s behalf, stating that they’d do it only if Mizora freed her warlock from his pact. 

The damn woman would argue with a devil. She sat with Minthara on a log, handing her the weapons they’d gathered from their travels for inspection. The flaming sword she’d picked up on the nautiloid was too big, the mace from under the creche too small, and the shortsword from the goblin camp downright insulting. 

Freya smirked as she passed the drow a Menzoberranzan blade she’d looted from a drider. Minthara stood, gripping the hilt with finesse and testing its balance. “Finally, good drow steel. This will do,” she said. Freya retrieved her own sword and started sharpening it with her whetstone. Halsin watched as the two women fell into an easy camaraderie, honing their weapons and talking of battles won, foes vanquished. 

May all the gods above have mercy on Ketheric Thorm, for the elf and the drow would not.

[jonquilyst]

Day 14 - Elimination Ceremony

Cowplants... It's not a happy day for you, nor is it happy ending for your team. You've had several great victories under your belt, but in the end, it was the Screaming Llamas that fared better. Now, you must eliminate one more person.

Although whoever gets out will have a chance to rejoin the game, nevertheless one of you will not be getting a spot in the merge. Let's see who that is.

Voting Results:

The following contestants are safe and will have a place in the merge:

Logan and Dahlia

Alexis, Anika. I think it was pretty expected you two would be on the hot seat tonight, but there was one thing that was... unexpected: the votes between you two were tied, meaning someone from the alliance voted for Anika... Hmm 🤔

The random number generator was deployed and has chosen an (un)lucky loser. The final result is under the cut:

The contestant eliminated from Total Drama Sims is...

Alexis Youngblood

Today's Confessional: Alexis Youngblood

This girl had a lot to say about her unfortunate fate, so I allowed her to have one last confessional! Here's Alexis:

"This is an outrage! It should have been Anika! She was the one that lost the race! Why is it ME?! I was a team player through and through! Ugh! This game is so rigged, and if I get back in, those 3 Killer Cowplant losers are gonna PAY! You all better hope this isn't the last of me!"

@comfyinn @akitasimblr @thebramblewood @ashubii

[detective-inspector-her]

ValSkug Merge Incorrect Quotes Part 2

Ghastly : Valkyrie, what did you just do!?

Valkyrie : I took your advice. I stopped running from the problem and I tackled it head on.

Ghastly : I meant try emotional honesty, not murder!!

Skulduggery's house is on fire, but they don't know it

Ghastly : Damn, it's hot in here.

Valkyrie: I know, it's so hot there's smoke coming out of the vent!

Ghastly :

Ghastly : First of all, I'm assuming you have no idea what the problem with that statement is.

Valkyrie: What?

Ghastly : Second of all, we need to get the fuck out of here, NOW.

Ghastly : Yes, I'm adopting Valkyrie and you cowards can't tell me no!

Ghastly : Valkyrie, we tried things your way.

Valkyrie: No, we didn't.

Ghastly : I did it in my head and it didn't work.

Valkyrie: Standing next to sunflowers always makes me feel weak like ‘look at this fucking flower. This flower is taller than I am. This flower is winning and I’m losing.’

Solomon: Wow, you are not ready to hear about trees.

Valkyrie: Eat shit and die, Solomon!!!

Solomon: Eat shit and live, Valkyrie.

Valkyrie: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner.

Solomon: Valkyrie, It’s 1:15 am, what the fuck.

Valkyrie: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not.

Solomon: Well, I mean yeah.

Valkyrie: So come downstairs while they’re still hot.

Solomon: Wait, you just made them?

Valkyrie: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets.

Solomon: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time Valkyrie.

Valkyrie: Isn't it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

Skulduggery: It's certainly a miracle.

China, about to leave the house: Don’t spend all day watching YouTube, okay?

Valkyrie: I FORGE MY OWN PATH!!

Valkyrie: No, I don't want to talk about physics! I don't know anything about the laws of physics because they are hard and boring. I simply would like them to behave in a way that is most convenient to ME and MY LIFE! Is that really asking too much?

China: Yes, as a matter of fact, it is!

Valkyrie: Well, guess what? Science is stupid bullshit!!

China: You take that back!!!

Valkyrie: No. Magic is awesome. Science blows. The end.

China: You need to stop swearing so much.

Valkyrie: Shut the fuck up.

China: Yeah, that's not how you do it.

Valkyrie: Alright sorry. It's just that it's hard not to swear. The words just creep up on me when I least expect it.

China: Now now, don't be like that. Just replace the swear words with 'beep' and you'll be fine.

Valkyrie: Shit the beep up.

China:

Valkyrie: SHUT, DAMMIT! I MEANT SHUT!

Valkyrie: Hello China, made anyone cry today?

China: Sadly, no. But it’s only 4:30.

China: You don’t deserve me.

Valkyrie: At your worst or your best?

China: I don’t have a worst.

Valkyrie: Because you’re already at your worst?

Fletcher: So… what would you do if you were in bed with me?

Valkyrie: Depends. Is your bed comfortable?

Fletcher: Yes.

Valkyrie: I'd sleep.

Valkyrie: Remember, Fletcher, don't do anything I wouldn't do.

Fletcher: I think I crossed that line when I got a date.

Valkyrie: Hey, about that love letter you sent me-

Fletcher: blushes What are your thoughts?

Valkyrie: The fourth sentence-

Fletcher: Yeah, that’s where I got really emotional and I-

Valkyrie: It’s “you’re” not “your”.

Valkyrie: Did you know you remind me of all 26 letters of the alphabet?

Fletcher: What? Like J F K W S Q X-

Valkyrie: No, like, U R A Q T.

Fletcher: Awwww!

Valkyrie: I fell—

Fletcher: From heaven?

Valkyrie: No, I literally fell—

Fletcher: In love with me the moment you saw me?

Valkyrie: MY ARM IS BROKEN!

Fletcher: Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

Valkyrie: I love you.

Fletcher, not paying attention: What was that?

Valkyrie: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

Valkyrie: If I didn't know better, Fletcher, I'd say you were scared.

Fletcher: Heh, scared?

absolute silence

Fletcher: DID YOU HEAR THAT?!

Valkyrie: Ok so, apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

Fletcher: When's the last time you slept?

Valkyrie: Uh… a few days ago, I think.

Fletcher: A few- how many?!

Valkyrie: Uh… starts counting on fingers I need more fingers…

Fletcher: What you need is sleep!

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, I don’t think I can handle any more of your tomfuckery.

Valkyrie: Oh yeah? Well I can keep going until you’re all tomfuckered out!

Skulduggery: Your future self is talking shit about you right now.

Valkyrie: Jokes on them. I'll ruin their fucking life.

Skulduggery: Come on, Valkyrie! How any times do I have to apologize?

Valkyrie: Once!

Skulduggery: …No.

Skulduggery: May luck (and this picture of Valkyrie eating shredded cheese at 3 in the morning) be with you.

Valkyrie: I want to grow up and be like Skulduggery!

Skulduggery: That is called Acquiring Depression.

Valkyrie: I'm going to get myself some soup.

Skulduggery: Be careful not to burn yourself, it's hot.

Valkyrie: Pfft, I won't burn myself.

30 seconds later

Valkyrie, entering the room: I burned myself.

Valkyrie: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Skulduggery: Sure!

Skulduggery: Whats your favorite color?

Valkyrie, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you like men?

Darquesse, bursting into the room: You two are having sex!

Nefarian, not looking up from their book: Really? Skulduggery, why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.

Skulduggery: is wearing silk pants How does this look?

Nefarian: Like its slips on and off really easily.

Skulduggery:

Nefarian: No, I didn't mean it like that-

Valkyrie: We know what you meant.

Darquesse: How do you tell someone that you wanna have sex with them in a polite way?

Skulduggery: Excuse me Mx. Would you give me the honours of indulging in sexual activities with you?

Valkyrie: What the fuck is wrong with you two?

Valkyrie: Who would you swipe right for? Nefarian or Skulduggery?

Darquesse: I would delete the app.

Valkyrie: Hey, Skulduggery, remember how I had to go to the pharmacy to pick up my ADHD meds?

Skulduggery: Yes?

Valkyrie: Well, it turns out they're all out for the next five days.

Skulduggery: Fuck.

Valkyrie: It's gonna be a fun week!

Skulduggery: I'm going to ask Darquesse to destroy my soul.

Valkyrie: Nuh-uh. Through sickness and health, motherfucker.

Valkyrie: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning.

Fletcher: This is a lie.

Fletcher: I'm literally dating them. This is a lie.

Fletcher: THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS.

Nefarian: Look, I know you think my judgement's clouded because I like #### a little bit.

Valkyrie, holding Nefarian's notepad: You doodled your wedding invitation.

Nefarian: No, that's our joint tombstone.

Valkyrie: My mistake.

Valkyrie: If I see a bug, I simply leave the room elegantly and require someone else do something about it.

Valkyrie: If no one fulfills my wish, I simply never go back in there.

Nefarian: I only have 6 weeks left to live.

Darquesse: Oh my god, really?!

Nefarian: It's just a guesstimate based on the choices I've made.

Valkyrie: Hi, I'm Nefarian's emergency contact.

Counter Woman: You're here to pick him up?

Valkyrie: I'm here to remove myself as his emergency contact.

Skulduggery: Do you ever get pre-annoyed? Like you already know someone is going to piss you off?

Darquesse: What? No, I—

Nefarian: enters room

Skulduggery: jaw clenches

Skulduggery: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?