#the majority of this post is quotes probably and I'm not sorry

[lurking-latinist]

re: these tags

THAT'S SO COOL AHHHH!! good for you aubreyad community stays winning

[introducing this with a disclaimer in case i'm wrong about everything: i am only halfway through the series rn (just about to finish 10) and also am but a mere undergrad classics major who has yet to even declare said major and I probably don't have the right to be yapping about propertius. nevertheless i shall.]

anyway i have been growing persistently more insane about diana's proximity to a Lot of classical imagery, like how her first appearance in post captain is literally during a fox hunt + all the gender stuff she has going, obviously linking her to mythological diana (and artemis if we're going to conflate the two) but your take has sent me in a whole new direction with that-- because she doesn't actually really embody the artemis archetype all too much overall (an emphasized character trait being that she's notably Not Chaste) EXCEPT in relation to stephen, w/ whom her relationship is much more brotherly than it is sensual i guess?

which would align very well with your idea of diana as elegiac puella-- sort of in a way being mythologized by stephen-- resulting in the reader actually being able to see two different manifestations of her character (one through the eyes of an omniscient prosaic narrator and one through the perspective of stephen as a "poet" figure). and i just think that's neat.

my latin class has also been looking at a few of propertius' love elegies and, at least to me, they read a lot like if stephen 1.) hated himself significantly less and 2.) were less indecisive in writing about his Feelings?? 1.8 (and all of the poems concerning cynthia moving/traveling away and propertius being all moody about it) is very reminiscent of the arc from post captain to the surgeon's mate imo. 1.12 is also Literally Him-- "cynthia prima fuit cynthia finis erit" can be compared to stephen's poetic catastrophizing about how his life is Literally Over and Love Is Dead when he believes to have fallen out of love with diana!?!? i'm going to lose my mind.

sorry for dumping all of this on you unprompted and also sorry for the fact that it probably does not make sense. peace and love

if undergrad classicists don't talk about propertius literally WHO WILL. (genuinely my currently-being-written phd dissertation chapter is based on an idea I had in the class I read propertius in freshman year. never feel like you're not a 'real scholar' or something yet, because you honestly never do become something different, you just keep reading and talking and this is what we do! there's nothing realer than this!)

oh wow that's really well put--we kind of get to see her from an omniscient-narrator perspective and through the eyes of her lover who is Not Being Normal About Her. very nice!

yeah I keep reading bits of propertius and being like "hmm is po'b going to quote this one I wonder." (he doesn't mostly but I keep thinking he should. because I want the aubreyad to be denser and less accessible I guess? :P) there's a lot of catullus woven in too of course - I associate Catullus 72 with the 'falling out of love' arc (my dude that is not what falling out of love looks like).

oh gosh yes 1.8 -- that was one of the things I was trying to describe to Distinguished Classicist, the way she's so -- what's the word I want? not volatile... she disappears. she's constantly Gone. you turn around and oops, she's eloped to Sweden. (honestly though if Cynthia and Propertius could manage to have *fake* revenge affairs that would actually be *great*, for them that would be an improvement.) Gareth Williams (in a chapter called, amazingly, "From Grave to Rave") describes Cynthia as "ever only elusively visible in the narratological mist" and I feel like that's a bit what's going on with Diana. For her there's a genre element as well--she's a woman in the Men Going to Sea books, and even though the Aubreyad gives way more time to women than the average Men Going to Sea book, the fact is the camera frequently simply isn't on her. We see far more of Stephen thinking about her, hearing rumors, etc. than we do of her actually being on the page. Now in elegy nobody seems to be quite fully on the page, we only get "fragments of story" as Genevieve Liveley and Patricia Salzmann-Mitchell say (excellent collection by that name btw, I recommend checking it out if you're at all interested in narrative and lyric/elegy). But Diana manages this while being in a novel, which is impressive to me.

yeah stephen as a character is a lot more... self-reflective? than propertius' speaker. for one thing he's in a novel, I think, so he can actually... have a series of contiguous experiences. he's also a compulsive diarist which is helpful for self-reflection I guess. and more mature, like, as a human being, than propertius' speaker, who apparently does nothing with his life except be in love and write poetry, he doesn't exist outside of as a poetic voice whereas, again, stephen benefits from a third-person narrator and has medicine and spying to do and so on. also he's Catholic.

I love the "Catullus-and-water" line, it's like O'Brian just put in a little wink to those of us who would notice this, like, "yes I am doing this on purpose." All in all I've pretty much defaulted to assuming that O'Brian is doing things on purpose. although he did forget Babbington's first name that one time and retconned it very awkwardly

[burningvelvet]

Hi! I was enchanted by your description of Byronic-ness, and really impressed with the wealth of knowledge you bring to bear on the topic. I'm re-listening to The Portrait of Dorian Gray, and I was wondering if Dorian would be Broadly Byronic, or Byronic-Orthodox? Conversely, how would Lord Henry stack up?

(for context, the post this ask is referring to, where I discuss my theory on the Byronic Hero, is here: https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/733557464082120704/some-thoughts-on-the-topic-of-byronism-byronic)

Thank you for the ask and sorry for the late reply. I wish I could give a more thorough answer, and although I've read Dorian at least three times, I haven't since my study of Byronism. Now I would like to read it again just to scan it for Byronic themes - but at the moment I can't justify spending time on a venture like this. But I could write essays about this topic, as many other people have.

In short, I believe Dorian would be more Broadly Byronic and Henry is also probably Broadly Byronic, but that Henry is much, much closer to being Orthodox Byronic if we see it as more of a spectrum than a binary, which would really be best, although I didn't really take that approach in my original post. Very few characters could be classified as Orthodox Byronic, so a spectrum really is most necessary.

In my original post, I included some quotes from top Byron scholar Peter Cochran writing about the Byronic Hero concept in his essay "Byron's 'Turkish Tales': An Introduction."

Cochran contrasts the Byronic Hero with the Shakespearean Tragic Hero by saying that the latter can be something of a witty conversationalist, whereas the former never is, being too dead inside (my words, not his). Henry is certainly a cunning conversationalist, and is actually a lot like Iago from Othello — a character who, ironically, Lord Byron loved so much that he put on a production of the play just so he could play him (as an aside, because I love this story: Mary Shelley played Desdemona and Percy directed, but one of Byron's mistresses forced the rehearsals to stop, supposedly because she was jealous of one of the actresses and felt left out because she couldn't speak English).

Anyway. Cochran also says that the prototypical Byronic Hero (what in my post I originally called the "Byronist's Byronic," but prefer to call "Orthodox Byronic" for clarity) never succeeds romantically, which is true. I don't know if this fully applies to Dorian or Henry. The former has several love affairs which aren't really genuine but which he does derive a sort of decadent satisfaction from. Dorian "wins over" Sybil Vane. Henry is married, and though not in love with his wife, he doesn't despise her like Heathcliff does his wife. Heathcliff is widely considered the greatest overall Byronic Hero, as he meets most of the criteria for both Orthodox Byronic and Broadly Byronic.

Cochran also says:

"The Byronic hero is a human dead-end."

Which does describe both Henry and Dorian. But in being companions, neither of them have the solitary nature which the Byronic necessitates, although they both come close (especially Dorian in the end) by being outsiders. And they are both hedonists, which isn't really Byronic, though people consider it as such, probably because of the cultural & literary confusion (as I explained in my original post) between the writings of Byron the Writer and the life of Byron the Man.

The Orthodox Byronic Hero, like Heathcliff, is mostly antisocial with few exceptions and basically has anhedonia the majority of the time. Dorian and Henry are a little anhedonic, especially Dorian in his infamously increasing pursuit of pleasure, but the Orthodox Byronic Hero is really too depressed to get it up for prostitutes or to go to an Opium den, and would never be caught dead at the kinds of dinner parties Dorian and Henry frequent.

But again, my overall opinion is that whild both of them have strong Byronic elements, they are more Broadly Byronic than Orthodox Byronic, which is a more rare character type.

[r0zzk1ll]

Hello bendy fandom Really fucking long rant/analysis abt me defending wally franks batim in a nutshell (and kind of basically making an au??.?. idk probably). enjoy if u want or don't idc 🎷🐇

i know this is a really stupid thing to be mad about, but the fact that wally isnt buddy boris has stuck with me ever since dctl was released. i found out through a fucking superhorrorbro video of all things all the way back in like 2018 i'm pretty sure 😭😭 i was so disappointed when i found out bc like WHAT DO U MEAN THE JANITOR/HANDYMAN OF JOEY DREW STUDIOS, EHO WAS GENERALLY A TRICKSTER AND A CLUTZ AND LIKED TO PISS PEOPLE OFF, ISN'T THE PERFECT BORIS CLONE. BUDDY BORIS FITS/HAD POTENTIAL TO FIT MOST TO ALL OF THAT CRITERIA.

and don't grt me wrong, i (kind of) like buddy as a character, BUT i really just don't think he fits the role (from what i've seen/read). like he could've been a different boris clone as a little easter egg/nod to what happened to him and how he died but as like. an important role in the game?? even though the books aren't even fucking canon apparently now so his subplot doesn't even make sense anymore?????.????... ooh bitchh

ALSO the "he (wally) got outta there that's why/he has a wife and kids" IS A WEAK ASS FUCKING ARGUMENT. THIS IS NOT A SHITS AND GIGGLES PLOTLINE U CAN JUST THROW AWAY. how come thomas grts to be tom (which makes somewhat sense with him also being a handyman type of guy), but wally can't also partake in the Main Character-ified Borisification to help henry traverse the studio. why can't that just be so easy to do. there could've been so many cool extra plotpoints and nods to what could've happened to him but Noooo Noooooooooo they just HAD to make a whole new character JUST for wally to NOT BE BORIS. ESPECIALLY WHEN THE BOOKS ARE NON CANON NOW BECAUSE THAT MAKES TOTAL SENSE. (/sarc)

and don't FUCKING quote me on batds bc i know SOMEBODU will be like "b-b-b-bbut b-b-buddy's whole s-s-side plot with collecting the scraps in batds makes him c-c-c-canon!!! 🥺🥺🥺💖😭😭💔💔💔🎀🎀✨✨ ur just mad bc it's not what was assumed by the fandom!! ;-; úwù heh..." FIRST OF ALL, BUDDY ISNT EVEN MENTIONED IN ANY OF THE CANON GAMES (besides the secret message in the safehouse but i don't think that rlly counts imo), NOR DOES HE HAVE ANY RELEVANCE IN THE STORY WHATSOEVER, WHICH MEANS HE IS STRICTLY BOOK-CANON. SECOND OF ALL, BATDS WAS KNOWN AS A SIDE/EXTRA GAME AT THE TIME OF IT'S RELEASE AND WASN'T EVEN CONFIRMED TO BE APART OF BATIM OR ANY OTHER PART OF THE FRANCHISE (ASIDE FROM A SIDE GAME TO PLAY WHILE BATDR WAS IN PRODUCTION) UNTIL BATDR WAS RELEASED AND CONFIRMED BATDS IS HAPPENING DURING IT (WHICH DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE EITHER)!!!

I DON'T CARE WHAT KIND OF OPINION COULD CHANGE MY MIND. WE GOT A PERFECTLY GOOD AND WELL-DEVELOPED CHARACTER (AND A [PERSONAL] FAN FAVORITE) AT THAT POINT FOR WHO BORIS COULD'VE BEEN, AND IT GOT TAKEN FOR SOME STUPID SEEMINGLY HALF-ASSED SUBPLOT THAT'S ONLY HALF-CANON NOW BECAUSE MIKE FUCKING D IS A GOD DAMN MORON IDIOT BASTARD ASS BITCH OHHH MY GOD IT MAKES ME SO ANGRY I'M GONNA PULL OUT ALL MY HAUR

sorry. almost lost my cool there guys.. ☝️😎 (/J)

soo with all that said, PERSONALLY this is what i think they should've done with buddy instead (under the cut so this post isn't 600 pages long)

first of all; scrap buddy's origin story completely and just make dtcl about the fact that he was simply another victim of the machine instead of making him such a major character (ex. a boris clone that was almost perfect but didn't quite make it like i said earlier)

on top of that, dctl could've just been insight on a single worker's process through working at the studio to being one of many victims of the machine, instead of turning him into such a titular important gary stu ass character with an in-depth backstory and Joey Drew Favoritism™ apparently that CLEARLY didn't need it + shouldn't be an mc if he's only in the books + the books aren't canon and the games are. so then it doesn't make it make any sense if he has such an important role and he isn't even fucking canon anyway and etc.

if he would've just stayed a minor inconvenient mc in a non-canon book it wouldn't have been detrimental to the lore as Mr. D Likes To Exaggerate (to me) + the books just seem like a fun one-off exclusive to the game series anyway, so it starts to kind of make sense why they aren't canon and leaves a lot of mysteries up to interpretation which is something i DO appreciate (to a CERTAIN extent)

here's what i think could've been done if wally was actually buddy boris and faced The Horrors™ like a normal main character should. an au, if you will (AND bc im VERY bias abt wally since He was my first ever og blorbo the first time i heard his audio log i literally owe him my Life💜💜💜💜)

wally could've started dropping hints in his audio logs that something funny was happening in the studio (specifically to him)/he could've been the last major victim to be sacrificed to the machine and therefore being one of the reasons of having the role of "the perfect boris" as malice said

-he also seems like the type of person to give into manipulation fairly easily, not knowing how truly bad something is before he gets involved yk

-a bit of a stretch BUT could also be a nod to susie's initial likeness towards wally pre-canon and vice versa (sourced from the special audio log wally has on the jds yt channel)

-him being the perfect boris also could allude to his personality/attributes and the way he talked abt the studio

and you can't forget the audio log of him and thomas bickering like COME ONNNN THERE COULD'VE BEEN A WHOOOLE SUB-SUBPLOT WHERE TOM AND BUDDY BORIS RECOGNIZE EACH OTHER SOMEHOW AT SOME POINT BUT THEY DON'T KNOW HOW

-TOM COULD'VE RECOGNIZED HIM EVEN AS BRUTE BORIS AFTER HENRY KILLS HIM and allison too but TOMMMMMMM😭😭😭😭😭CAN ANYONE HEAR MEEEEE

extra hints in the game like certain phrases and mannerisms of his (ink/glowing ink writings like his "i'm outta here!" written in certain locations or like. boris being clumsier as he walks/carrying around keys/scavenging for food [kind of like in the start of chapter 3], etc.)

-i also think that the connection that buddy boris (and just boris in general) has with food can connect with wally as well bc of the audio log where he's like "Omg 💖 Cake 💖just for me! Don't Tell Anyone Though. Our little secret. 😝" or the bit in the handbook where he finds some "churros" i Guess

there's also a LOT of potential for there to be a whole OTHER subplot where sammy could have found him one day and hadn't recognized him bc All The Boris Clones Look The Same, but buddy boris recognized sammy and there could be a whole conversation with henry and sammy abt him and dropping hints at it and blahblahblah etc etc.

-sammy probably could've mentioned him* at some point too even if he hadn't seen buddy boris as like a "hey.. i knew that fuckass guy.. wtf" (*and i know he mentions wally in the hot topic takeover thing on twitter from a while ago but i mean like in the actual game)

i think that the fact of boris being a Non-Verbal King™ would also be a funny contrast to how many god damn audio logs wally has. like Shut yuor mouth fucker /REF

the bit in chapter 3 where boris knows every nook and cranny of the studio and how to navigate the vent system could also lead to wally's nature of having a lot of knowledge of the layout to the building (due to being a janitor/running errands for people, similar to buddy) + he mentions staying in late to freshen up some offices so he might've explored more using that time as well because his personality shows he's a bit of a nosy guy

ALSO a stretch, but wally's first audio log in chapter one being fairly close to the first boris corpse displayed could've been a good foreshadow to his revival as buddy boris (and where the theory originated i'm pretty sure once ch2 came out)

the saferoom at the start of chapter 3 could've also been a great place to reference him (they could've put his hat from bendy royale in the shelf next to/on the hammock Can anyone hear me)

i also think that wally is supposed to be painted as an older guy?? so he probably already would've moved on from the studio due to leaving and starting his own business and having a family I Guess?????? idk but to me i think he'd be more of the college drop-out that thinks he's hot shit type of guy when in reality he doesn't know what a 2 + 2 is (ex. the audio log in batds where he's like "i was the best Student! Brickmore High! [tiktok bold emoji] These college bozos don't be knowin' shit!!"

-younger people are easier to manipulate like i talked abt earlier (especially someone like him that doesn't think before he Does Anything . boy has no thoughts)

wally also most likely would've known who henry was/was friendly with him while working there too at some point while henry was still at the studio pre-canon, so he probably recognized him throughout the cycle

i could ramble forever abt this bc it's such a strangely frustrating topic for me BUT in conclusion; i personally tbink that it would've been perfectly logical for wally to have been buddy boris (probably called somethig else), and buddy should've been a completely seperate character that would've done just as well on his own in the book instead of having a whole ass overarching plot for no reason?? and the "canonicity" of it is weirdly up for debate??? idk Watever thank you for coming to my tedtalk 😇😇Bye

⭐ !! bonus wally doodle dump since u made it this far !! seriously why r u Here ⭐

[joe9cool]

So Good-Joel Farabee-2

A/N: I do not know or associate with anyone on The Flyers, I only own my characters. Also you do not have permission to copy or post my stories anywhere. Thank you

December 2022.

“Atta boy guys! Way to battle and fight hard!” Joel cheered along with the locker room. They had beaten the Rangers at home. So far the season had been a bunch of ups and downs (mostly downs) but they were a rebuilding team. So there was hope for the future.

Upon exiting the locker room to the family area. He looked around to see the usual guys with their families. Sometimes parents flew in. He was fortunate that his family didn't live too far away and that they could drive Or fly to see major games.

“Hey Joel” He looked to his right to see Claire smiling at him. He had seen her at some games with Laurence and Ella. He had purposely avoided her since that night and had so far been successful. At the most he gave her a smile and a wave. Once the anger had worn down.

He had tried to push her into the back of his mind and that was the only way to successfully do that.

Until now.

“How have you been?” She asked.

Fuck she looked good. She must have just come from work and she dawned what he would say was ‘Professor Attire’ that she filled out perfectly, complete with square frames. Claire looked like every college kid's fantasy.

All of the sudden all of the memories from that August night came flooding back.

He was fucked.

“Joel?” He Realized he spaced out as Claire looked At him confused. “I'm sorry Claire, I spaced out. Happens often.” Fans didn't call him empty Headed for nothing.

“I asked if you were joining the team for Christmas at my family's house? My mom hosts some of the team And the families every year. I know you didn't come the past few times and then COVID happened. But its always a blast.”

“Umm I'm not sure.. I mean I still haven't finalized Plans with my family…” He trailed off, knowing That his parents or His brothers weren't able to come with the busy schedule.

“It's the 20th Joel.” and Morgan said you probably will be Attending with him.”

He made a mental note to murder Frosty. “Yeah I guess I'll show up for a few hours.”

She smiled. “Great! You don't need to bring anything. My family is making Everything.”

“That's a ton of food.” She laughed. “My mom owns a restaurant, remember? She is accustomed to the Chaos”

“True.” They smiled at each other, and Joel's heart skipped a beat. 

“Well I'll see you at my house for Christmas. You know where Danny lives in Haddonfield right?”

He nodded, thinking of the former player turned assistant GM. “Yeah I have been to his place a few times.”

“Then my mom’s house is literally next door. Its obnoxiously decorated so you cannot miss it. Think of the Griswold’s house in Christmas Vacation.

Joel laughed.. “Nothing wrong with that, that’s my favorite Christmas movie. Her smile brightened. “Mine too! I’ve annoyed everyone around me by quoting the movie. 

“Hey Claire, we’re heading out.” She turned back towards Sean and Laurence.  “Oh they are my ride. I’ll see you on Christmas, and good luck against the Hurricanes!” They had one more game in Carolina before they could enjoy Christmas break. As he watched her retreating figure his heart did another flip confirming what he already knew

He. Was. Totally. Fucked.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just as Claire said, her mother's home was the most decorated on the block. As he pulled up he took a deep breath. Even on the plane ride back he was lost in his own world. He wondered if her boyfriend Luke would be there. Then chastised himself for thinking that he wouldn't. It was still a family event, and it was Christmas.

The past couple of days he felt his hand hovering over the follow request on her Instagram. She was private, but had a ton of followers, practically the entire team and their wives or girlfriends. Past and present members even had some friends in common, no doubt cause of hockey. He looked at Laurence's photos to see if maybe Claire was posted with Luke. No such luck. Not even wedding photos were she was a bridesmaid.

Taking another deep breath, he got out of his car and saw Travis Sanheim and his girl right Behind him. After exchanging Pleasantries they walked up together. The door opened right away to see a middle aged woman who resembled Claire and no doubt that was her mother. 

“Hello everyone! Merry Christmas!”

“Hi Vero.” She hugged the couple before her eyes were on Joel. Feeling awkward he waved. “Hi I'm Joel. I'm on the team.”

She laughed before pulling him into a hug. “I know who you are! I'm Canadian and have lived here for over ten years. We bleed black and orange. I'm Veronique, But call me Vero. I'm so glad you could come.” She gestured them inside, and once again Joel handed her a bottle of wine. It was becoming his thing. “I'm sorry I know Claire said no gifts, but I can't come empty handed.”

The older woman laughed. “Oh that's so sweet. I raised my daughters the same way. He went to find some of his team in The massive living room, however his Eyes were surveying the room and he very quickly Found who he was looking for.

He smiled brightly when his eyes came across her. She looked beautiful, her dark hair styled to perfection. Her red dress looked cozy and festive. 

However his smile went away fast when he took in her facial expressions. She wasn't happy. In fact, she looked ready to cry.

Then he saw the person next to her and stiffened. 

A tall blonde-haired guy. Was standing next to her, his back angled towards Joel so he couldn't see his face. This had to be Luke.

And based on what he saw, He could already tell this guy was a major prick.

He was luckily distracted by Kevin and his wife coming up to greet him. It was a good distraction as it got him mingling with other teammates and his mind was off Claire. 

Until dinner was ready. As he took his seat at the long decorated table Claire and Luke sat diagonally Across from him. 

“Joel! I didn't see you. I'm glad you made it.” She smiled and he returned it. “Oh and I'm sorry this is Luke, my boyfriend.” 

He tried to refrain from making a grimace as he leaned over the table to reciprocate The handshake the other guy was holding out. “I'm Joel Farabee.”

“Luke Cross. Nice To meet you.” He sat down and took a sip of his wine. “So are you a hockey player like everyone else?”

He didn't miss the tone in Luke's voice when he said ‘hockey players.’ “Yes I'm with the Flyers.”

The blonde shook his head. “I don't know how you do it. I mean, I'm sure the money is nice. But is it worth nearly killing yourself for a hunk of Metal?”

The room seemed to be silent with the Last comment. Luke looked Around and laughed. “I'm sorry. I meant “The Cup.”

“It's more than a ‘Cup’.” York interjected and Sean shook his head. “I've tried to explain it to him”

Luke laughed. “I just don't get sports. I mean I feel like it's not necessary. You're not contributing to anything.”

Joel wanted to take the bowl of mashed potatoes in his hand and aim right towards his smug face. The fact that he was so comfortable trashing someone’s passion in front of his own girlfriend, who was Canadian and a hockey player herself. He didn’t want to imagine what went on in private 

Vero, who Was trying to keep the peace, changed the subject to focus on her other daughter Alexandra and her husband. While Alex was a lawyer, her husband Noah was a tattoo artist who ran his own shop in Philadelphia. “Do you mind showing me some of your work?” Owen asked. Noah was more than thrilled to show off his art, which Joel had to admit, was really good. “How did you and Alex meet?”He asked Noah in a separate side conversation. As it was any more possible, Noah’s smile got even bigger as he was about to talk about his favorite subject, even more so than tattooing 

“Last year Claire came in to get a tattoo, and Alex came with. We got to talking, and I just..” He trailed off and stared down his plate. “I just knew.”

“You guys just met last year and you’re married?” Tyson asked, not being able to comprehend such a short timeline. Noah laughed and began playing with the black band on his inked finger. “Yeah. We spent all of Claire’s session talking and began seeing each other immediately. Asked her to move in six months later, and then bought the ring two weeks later.” Alex now joined the conversation. “We were both cynical, as we have had our hearts broken, but it just felt right. When he asked, I said yes and we practically ran to city hall.”

Claire smiled. “We were all a bit shocked, but they are perfect together, and hey I get free tattoos now.”

Of course, the moment had to be ruined by Luke. “That’s crazy. Getting married so quick. Marriage is a serious commitment not to be taken lightly. You got to take your time. Get your life together first.”

Joel observed both sisters. Alex looked ready to rip his head off, while Claire looked dejected. “Yeah, but things are falling into place now. I just got my masters and I start my PhD program next fall.”

“Oh my god.” Luke interrupted. “Sean I got to show you what I just ordered.” He whipped out his phone and after a couple scrolls he turned the phone to face the group. “Its coming next month, my new toy.”

It was a picture of a truck, with an obnoxious shade of yellow. Sean’s jaw dropped.  “Dude you got a damn Hummer?”

Joel didn’t miss the way Claire stiffened. 

“Yep! Paid cash and customized it. Its got all of the features-” Claire excused herself to get more wine, while Alex followed her. If Joel had to guess, it wasn’t to fill up her wine glass, or maybe it was to down an entire bottle.

He chimed in on the conversation, trying to make his silence obvious, however not one person seemed to notice the sisters absence, so Joel told Travis he was going to get more water from the kitchen hoping that was where the girls were. 

The house was huge, so when he stepped into the kitchen he was confused, until he heard voices. Walking towards them, he stopped in front of the clear glass door when he saw they were in the wine cellar, Claire on the verge of tears while Alex was speaking. They looked at him and he realized he was probably looking like a massive creep. Alex opened the door.  “Are you lost Joel?”

He shook his head.  “Um no. I uh- just wanted to see if Claire was okay.”

“Alex, he can come in.” 

The door opened, and Joel came in. “I saw your reaction to his comment.” He couldn’t say his name. She sniffled.  “He didn’t tell me he bought a Hummer. I mean he mentioned it, but I didn’t think…” She trailed off..  “God this probably sounds soo stupid. We’re not married, and its his money, he can do what he wants with it. So I don’t know why I am upset.

Because he’d rather buy a sixty thousand dollar car than a ring. Joel thought but he didn’t dare say it. “Look I know I don’t have much experience with relationships, but if it upsets you you need to talk about it. Isn’t communication important or something like that?”

Claire laughed. “Oh Joel, you’re so young, but wise. Some girl is gonna be very lucky One day.”

that stung. “Yeah well. I'm not focusing on that.”

She smiled. “Let's go. I'm sure everyone is wondering where we went.” The group lect the huge cellar with a bottle of wine so it didn't look suspicious.

“Where did you go?” Laurence asked. Claire shrugged. “We all ran into each other trying to find another bottle of wine.”

“Darling. Not too much, don't want to be drunk.” Luke chimed in with a smile. Unaware that his own girlfriend was in tears over him. Claire ignored him.

Despite that hiccup, the rest of the night went off perfectly, and Joel found himself forgetting about Luke. He also couldn't help but notice Claire being drawn to him more.

However it none of that mattered as at the end of the night, Claire and Luke left together to go back to their life and Joel was going back to his condo alone.. well he had Morgan and Tyson. 

A.N. I am posting this quickly while I work on Chapter 3. Let me know if you guys are feeling this story.

[spacefinch]

Pokemon Incorrect Quotes: Unova Edition

Hugh: *handing out smiley balloons* I have no soul. Have a nice day!

Colress: I don't have one either.

Drayden: Let me see what you have!

Iris: A knife!

Drayden: NO!

Cilan: Fun fact! Blueberries are the only fruit named after a color.

Iris: Star fruit?

Cilan: ♥️ So close! That is a shape ♥️

Colresss: Welcome to physics!

*science project explodes*

*screaming*

Hilda: 🎶 ANNIE ARE YOU OKAY, ANNIE ARE YOU OKAY, ANNIE 🎶

Hilbert: *banging pots and pans*

Hilda: 🎶 ANNIE ARE YOU OKAY, WILL YOU TELL US THAT YOU’RE OKAY 🎶

Teacher: Uh, Cheren, can you read number 23 for the class, please?

Cheren: No, I cannot. What up, I’m Cheren, I’m 19, and I never fricking learned how to read.

Chili: Hi, welcome to Chili's.

Elesa: Hey, I’m lesbian.

Emmet: I thought you were Unovan.

Clay: I wanna be a cowboy, baby!

Alder: Hell yeah!

Clay:  I wanna be a cowboy, baby!

Hilbert: TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN

Cheren: Why are you guys reblogging this in December?

Hilda: TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN

Rosa: TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN

Cheren: It is February, you ANIMALS

Nate: TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN

Emmet: "Average person eats 8 spiders a year" factoid, actually statistical error. Average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave and eats over 10,000 every day, is an outlier and should not have been counted.

Chili: Oh sorry, I fell asleep while I was waiting on you to make me a sandwich.

Cress: Go back to sleep AND STARVE.

Ingo: Perhaps it is the context in which words are spoken that gives them the power of meaning. *yelling* I LOVE YOU, JOLTIK!

Emmet, banging on pots and pans: I DON'T GET NO SLEEP 'CAUSE OF YOU! Y'ALL NOT GONNA GET NO SLEEP 'CAUSE OF ME!

Hilda: Would you like something to drink? *opens fridge* We have water, milk, juice, Joltiks, Dr. Pepper…

Cheren: Joltiks?

Hilda: Joltiks it is, then.

Cheren: Wait, that’s not what I meant—

But she was already pouring him a brimming glass of Joltiks.

Ingo and Emmet: *in the middle of an intense Pokemon battle*

Hilbert: Can I get a waffle? Can I PLEASE get a waffle?

After said battle:

Hilbert, pointing at the losing Pokemon: He need some milk

Ingo: Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does!

Rosa (pointing at a flock of Swanna): Look at all those chickens!

Ingo: *filming in selfie mode*

Emmet: (in background) Bop it! Twist it! Pull it!

Colress (grinning): I'M GOING TO JAIL!

Cheren: Tumblr is just talking to yourself but with an audience.

Cilan: That’s called a soliloquy.

Cheren: Found the theater kid. Get em boys.

Iris: Hey OP, how do we know you’re not a theater kid?

Cheren: I’M AN ENGLISH LIT MAJOR, YOUR HONOR

Cilan: Eating chips with chopsticks is unironically galaxy brain. Your fingers don’t get greasy and it lasts for longer.

Chili: Fork

Cilan: Oh, yeah, I’m going to stab my crunchy foods and make them fall apart like an absolute absentminded dunce, fool, clown, jester, like a monstrous moron, an idiot of Shakespearean proportions, a cretin.

Cress: Um, you seem to forget that ‘chips’ can also mean fries. And that’s probably what he was talking about, haha

Cilan: I did not forget anything. I purposely ignore the idea of using British vocabulary to do my part in helping it die out.

Cilan: KNOWLEDGE is knowing that a tomato is technically a fruit.

Cress: WISDOM is not putting it in a fruit salad.

Chili: PHILOSOPHY is wondering if a tomato is a fruit, does that make ketchup a smoothie?

Cheren: COMMON SENSE is knowing that ketchup isn't a smoothie.

Ingo: I went to the store and bought Quick Oats. The next day, my brother came back with Instant Oats. I will not be humiliated like this. I must now find an even sooner oat.

Hilbert: I hope nobody is evil

Ghetsis: >:)

Hilbert: Oh no

Elesa: Don’t post your negativity on a positive post.

Volkner: Electrons

Elesa: I should kick your ass.

Cilan: Being alive is great because there are so many different vegetables you can sauté. But then there are also the horrors.

Cheren: People who say ‘oof’ and people who say ‘bruh’ contribute nothing to a conversation.

Nate: OOF

Hilbert: BRUH

Ingo: Early to bed, early to rise, Burger King burger with Burger King fries

Skyla: Later to rise, later to bed, Burger King burger on Burger King bread

Elesa: Eat at morning, eat at night, I participate in a Burger King fight

Emmet: I slap my knees, I slap my thighs, tonight is the night that Burger King dies

Cheren: I currently have seven empty notebooks and I have no clue what to put in them.

Cilan: Put spaghetti in it.

Cheren: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone except you.

Bianca: Put spaghetti in it.

Cheren: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone except you two.

Nate: Put spaghetti in it.

Cheren: I am no longer taking suggestions.

Roxie: *playing guitar*

*suspicious crashing noises in distance*

Roxie: *plays guitar louder*

Hilbert: Big mood.

Emmet: What does that mean?

Hilbert: Well… it means, me too, I guess.

*the next day*

Ingo: I'm worried about Team Rocket using our subway system.

Emmet: Big mood, brother. Big mood.

Ingo: HILBERT WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

Hilbert: Z is just a sideways N

N: Please stop it

Hilbert: Zo

Elesa: I can't find my earbuds and Target is closed. This is a nightmare.

Burgh: Put a Durant in each ear and they will sing to you.

Elesa: Not a half-bad idea actually.

Emmet: I go to Home Depot

Emmet: I eat the tools

Ingo: Stop it

Emmet: Crumch

Roxie: Is it cheating to teach Toxic to every member of my Pokemon team?

Elesa: Not at all, I'd love to hear them sing it.

Clay: None of y’all know what propaganda actually is, do you?

Hilda: It’s when a British person takes a good look at something.

Elesa: What are you guys going to be for Halloween?

Ingo: Sad

Burgh: Gay

Skyla: Sexy

Emmet: Goblin

Ingo: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds

Emmet: My arms are strong, I would catch you and hug you

Clay: Children, this is dirt.

Nate, Rosa, and Hugh: dirt? dirt? dirt? dirt? dirt?

Hilda: Shoutout to all the people who started saying “same” as a joke once in a while but now use it for the most random things like a car honking their horn at another car.

Cheren: Yesterday a book fell off my desk but instead of picking it up, I just looked at it for a second and said “same”

Hilbert: LOL same

Bianca: Why are we like this?

Cheren: Is there anything better than pussy?

Cheren: Yes, a really good book

Cheren: *plays the keyboard*

Hilbert: Who’s the hottest Uber driver you’ve ever had?

N: Ummm… I never went to Oovoo Javer.

*HAS NEVER WENT TO OOVOO JAVER*

Looker: Where’s the best place to buy fireworks?

Hugh: Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?

Looker: Where are your parents? Kid’s sketchy, back to you.

Emmet: *screams into jar and then screws on the lid* Everything’s fine.

Cilan: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire?

Nate: Microwave for 40 minutes

Cilan: Why were you microwaving a lemon??

Nate: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges), but I didn’t own any pots.

Cilan: Did you burn an orange too? How??

Nate: Microwave for 40 minutes

Classroom: *silence*

One of the students: turgle turgle

Cheren: WHO TURGLED

Hilda: Hey everyone, today my brother pushed me, so I'm starting a Kickstarter to put him down. Benefits of killing him would be that I get pushed way less—

Cheren: I get that you're angry, but killing Hilbert is not the solution.

Hilbert: When will Ted himself finally show up to the talk?

Bianca: The final boss

Cheren: Guys, you do realize that TED stands for Technology, Entertainment, and Design, right?

Hilda: I will not let Ted hide behind these lies any longer.

Cheren: I love the word methinks. It’s accurate. Me does think. Thinketh me do.

Hilbert: Methinks therefore me am.

Nate (bragging.): I know every digit of pi.

Nate: I don't know what order.

N: He doesn't know what order.

"Hey besties friendly reminder to drink water, feed your lab Rattata, turn off your evil nuclear generator, change out of your dirty lab coat, go for a walk, and take care of yourself!"

“@evilscientist13”

“@evilscientist13”

“@evilscientist13”

“COLRESS WAKE UP”

“@evilscientist13”

“@evilscientist13”

“@evilscientist13”

“COLRESS THE REACTOR”

(during a game of Uno)

Ingo: Brother, please, no.

Emmet: I’m sorry. I have to.

Ingo: Please, I’m begging you, after all we’ve been through?

Emmet: I’m sorry. [places a draw 4 card] Uno.

N: Any questions before I move on?

Porygon: *garbled electric noises*

N: ... Great. I really understood that well.

Elesa: This is camp.

Ingo: What does camp mean?

Emmet: Like when something is so yass and slay

Emmet: Do you think Joltiks take fall damage?

Ingo: Emmet, what the heck?

*at Drayden’s home in Opelucid City*

The Pokemon streaming service profiles read as follows:

Drayden: “Person who pays for the account”

Iris: “Granddaughter (Free pass)”

Ingo: “Parasite 1”

Emmet: “Parasite 2”

Cheren: How long does someone have to be dead before it's considered archaeology and not grave robbing?

Lenora: As an archaeologist, I find this a VERY AWKWARD QUESTION.

Cheren: Answer the question, grave robber.

Elesa: Carpe diem— seize the day

Skyla: Carpe noctem— seize the night

Emmet: Carpe natem— seize the ass

Ingo: Seriously, if you guys don't stop reblogging this, I am going to carpe someone's neck and break it.

Grimsley: Carpe collum— seize the neck

Cheren: Not all math puns are bad.

Cheren: Just sum of them.

Roxie: There is so much panic right now and not nearly enough disco.

Elesa: Where do bad rainbows go?

Skyla: …

Elesa: Prism. It's a light sentence.

Skyla: *groan*

Hilda: If you don't know the difference between "their," "they're", and "there", your a idiot.

Cheren: Well, this is awkward.

Hilbert: I was born ready!

Hilda: You were born in Nuvema Town.

Hilbert: When I was your age… (tells Hilda something he did a few minutes ago)

Nate: A theif

Cheren: Thief?

Nate: Theif

Cheren: I before e, except after c

Nate: Thceif

Cheren: No

Hilda: (singing) A potato flew around my room before you came—

Hilda, Hilbert, Cheren, and Bianca: AAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Hilbert: I'm nuts about these nuts. But you know what I'm also nuts about? My close good friends!

Hilbert: *gestures to Hilda, Cheren, Bianca, Nata, Rosa, Hugh, and N* My close good friends!

Ghetsis: Remember one time I liked you?

N: No.

Ghetsis: Good, because IT NEVER HAPPENED! *evil laugh*

Cilan: Would anyone like some stew? Would anyone like some stew? Would anyone like some stew?

[ellecdc]

Hi elle i was the anon whose results were supposed to come out today. well, my average fell by two grades. i'm not happy, my parents are not happy. I passed barely with decent scores. I'm going to a mediocre business school this fall (if they even want me) yay i guess. that's it for the update im going to go jump off a cliff now

should i just stop my education? anyways my stupidity and mental health doesn't allow it guess the futures not very bright after all

I'm sorry that it's taken me a few days to respond to this; I will admit I've been having a difficult time myself and didn't feel I had it in me to give this ask the response it deserves.

instead of babbling off motivational quotes about how "it'll all be alright in the end; if it's not alright then it is not yet the end" etc etc, I will tell you a story.

my best friend growing up [and one of my dearest friends still to this day] failed her written drivers test seven times [I don't think either of us really remember the actual number because every time we tell the story, the number grows more and more lol, but it was certainly at least 4-5 times]. Today? She's driving around and we laugh and laugh whenever we tell the story.

my first degree was in psychology. when I was 17-21, my mental health was at an all time low, particularly in my first and second year, and by the third [and then my fourth] I was so unbelievably tired of school... I failed. I failed a lot of classes. I failed a sociology class, I failed my first year intro to psychology! [basically psych 101 - as a psych major], and a few statistics/math courses!

in fact, in my second year I decided to take one class online while my other four were all in person. I submitted the first quiz in that online class and then nothing else for the rest of the semester. I never logged on again, never dropped the course, and by the time I realized what I'd done [or bothered to consider the consequences of putting this class 'out of sight, out of mind'] it was during exam season, and I knew I hadn't learned a single thing in that course and was going to fail, so I never even showed up to the final exam.

you know what I finished that class with? 8%.

on my university transcript, I have an 8%. I didn't just fail, I FAILED.

and you know what else? I got my degree anyway

I have a degree hanging in my office; a degree that saw a lot of tears, a lot of pain, a lot of failures, and a lot of doubts. sometimes I still wonder if I even deserved the degree, seeing as how I was anything but studious or invested in my academics. I graduated, and it was not with honours nor anywhere near top of my class, but I graduated

I even worked for two years in the field immediately post graduation. not only did I get the degree, I also got the job

and then....I took my transcript from my first university - that same transcript that has an 8% on it - and applied to another university....and got accepted

and remember that friend I mentioned? the same one who failed her drivers test an 'obscene' amount of times? she went to nursing school, and did really well. she's a devoted care taker and if anything ever happened to me [or any of my loved ones], I would absolutely want her in charge of my care.

well, she failed her nursing exam. she was devastated; this was all she'd ever wanted to do, the only career she ever saw herself in, and she'd devoted so many years trying to get here

so I reminded her about the drivers test. and I said "sweets, what are we doing right now?" and she was like "...talking?" and I was like "no shut up; right now we are sitting in your car in a McDonald's parking lot that you drove us to...with your license that you got. So yeah, maybe you failed your nurses exam, but you also failed your drivers test, yet here you are almost seven years later having driven an incalculable number of kilometres. you failed your test and it probably sucked at the time, but today we laugh about it and it's nothing but a moment in time. you will nurse one day, and this will be merely a moment in time that you may not even fully remember."

so.......all this to say; tests are sometimes meant to be failed. that's not a comforting thought, and I'm sorry, but you either pass or you fail [or you pass but aren't please with your marks]. and right now this feels big, and right now it feels heavy, but one day this moment and these feelings will only be a memory or a moment in time. I've never been anything but a mediocre student until I went back to college in 2020 [I was twenty four at the time!], and yet I still graduated high school, got accepted to university, failed classes, graduated university, and got accepted to university again.

my friend failed her drivers test numerous times yet owns her own car and drives everyday. she failed her nursing exam yet still tends to patients in hospitals and nursing homes today.

don't stop your education, don't jump off a cliff, and don't be too hard on yourself - it's a moment in time, you're building your lore, and you will be okay.

xx

[anime-villian-irl]

@simeon-lovergirl you're a fucking moron. Hobie's age is up to interpretation and he's a black teen. We look older than we actually are it's part of the territory.

I just saw this comment you left in the post.

Ok firstly. Why the fuck are you insulting them? In which moment did they spoke bad to someone?

2nd No. Hobie's age is NOT up to interpretation he is literally and officially confirmed to be 19-20.

3rd Wow, you can see that he is black!

4th just read Simeon's comments on that matter.

Here, I'll quote them for you:

@medovzs LMAO the skin color of a teen doesn't define or has anything to do with how that teen acts. If you are talking about those situations of racism which forges their character, then surprise! I am POC myself so i know what does it feels like. I know how any normal teenager behaves, and i know how adolescents who have been marginalized behave, especially for racist causes. And Hobie is seen to be mature, he doesn't act like a teen. 1

2 i get that can happen by a lot of reasons, i also got that "you're mature for your age" but if you check the fandom, they all collectively agree/got from the movie that he's like 19🤷🏻‍♀️

They are also POC. They know what it is to go through racism, and what this racism entails in the personality and maturity of the person who suffers it.

Apart from personal maturity. Let's talk about physical maturity. The fact that you say that all black people look much older than they are is wrong. Why? because you generalize to a group of people, a racialized group on that matter. And that can perpetuate some stereotypes of your own people.

Hi anon

Im sorry for what I said. What I should have said was that we look older than we actually are most of the time not all of the time.

Speaking from personal experience I myself have been mistaken for an adult since I was twelve.

Also just because most of the fandom got something doesn't mean there right. Majority does not equal correctness.

And for hobie not acting like a teen.

He did.

In the way he interacted with pav, his friendship with Gwen , his disrespect for authority, his jokes. That's a fucking teen.

Teens can be mature Babycakes there not all brooding teenagers who don't know shit.

Hobie is traumatized, formally homeless, and killed the president as well as probably several cops. He has been Spiderman Wich is basically being the writers punching bag for three fucking years. He isn't going to act like a normal teenager.

I am not saying anything that has to do with racism so I don't know where the fuck they got that from so I'm jot going to touch that.

I don't care that they are also poc. I don't care if there even black. They are wrong and I am correcting them. And if you dearest anon aren't black don't. Fucking. Comment. On how I talk about my own community thank you doll.

In conclusion.

Hobie browns age is up to interpretation. And it's okay if you anon or Simon or whatever the fuck their name was. Thinks there an adult. Good for you! Just stop shitting on those who don't think the same as you.

[stellae-de-baphometis]

Hello! I'm curious, do you know any good online sources for researching demonolatry? I'm pretty new to all this and I'm just trying to find some good information; if you don't have any that's ok, dw about it.

Thanks and have a great day :]

Hi there! I recently answered a similar question to this one if you would like to check that post out. It has a lot of good information on there, with resources listed too. But I do have a few ancient grimoires to provide as well! :) They can be a good start.

So sorry for taking so long to answer this btw!

↓ : Full Post Will Be Under The Cut : ↓

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A lot of the ancient original daemonolatry grimoires are available to read for free online, if you know where to look. I've linked them down below. Also just a heads up, most of them are in PDF format and might automatically download once you click on the hyperlinks, depending on your browser settings lol.

༺ The Ars Goetia ༻ . . . The Goetian Daemons are probably the most well-known infernal spirits in Daemonolatry, and a majority of them are very good to work with for beginners. . . . But something very important to note here; Please do not use Solomonic methods to conjure daemons. This will seriously piss them off! Solomonic conjuration methods involve binding, controlling, demanding, threatening, and manipulating daemons against their will, and it is very disrespectful to the Infernal Divine to treat them in such a way. If you respect the Infernal Divine, they will respect you. 🖤 . . . Some beginner-friendly Goetian Daemons I would recommend working with are; Asmodeus/Asmoday, Bael, Zagan, Paimon Agares, Zepar, Dantalion, Bune, Astaroth, Vassago, Stolas, Orobas, Ipos, Naberius, Forneus, Phenex, Buer, Marbas, Foras, and Valac. However if none of these resonate with you, that's okay! Personally, I think it's best to trust your intuition and reach out to whatever daemons/daemonesses you're drawn towards the most. .

༺ The Dictionnaire Infernal ༻ . . . The Dictionnaire Infernal is a Daemonology scripture that was written way back in the 1800s. I believe the Dictionnaire Infernal may have been inspired by the Ars Goetia. In fact, it's where a lot of the Goetian daemon illustrations originate from (drawn by Louis Le Breton, respectfully). This grimoire includes Christian and Biblical daemons, as well as "demonized" deities and daemonic spirits from other belief systems. . . . It has a few obscure infernal deities and spirits that aren't seen in many other grimoires, so I recommend it if you're into that! :) .

༺ The Pseudomonarchia Daemonum ༻ . . . The Pseudomonarchia Daemonum is what later inspired the Ars Goetia, and has much of the same information with a few key differences worth noting. . . . Prince Vassago, Prince(ss) Seere, Duke Dantalion, and Count Andromalius were not listed in the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, but rather made their first appearance in the Ars Goetia. However, Prince/Duke Pruflas made their first appearance in the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, but were not added into the Ars Goetia. There has been speculation that Pruflas is the same daemon as King Purson, though this has never been confirmed. .

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Also I touched on this in the similar ask I linked at the top of this post, but I'll copy and paste it here just to make sure you don't miss this! I think this is very important to keep note of:

~ Quote [ . . . Please educate yourself on closed practices and steer clear of cultural appropriation in your personal practises. There are a group of people in the Daemonolatry community who appropriate the heck out of Jewish daemons, especially Lilith. Judaism is a closed practise and therefore it's only respectful to not incorporate Judaism into your personal practises. Appropriating Judaism is actually a form of anti-Semitism, so please be mindful and respectful of these things! 🖤 . . . I'm ashamed to admit this but I actually used to think it was completely fine to appropriate Jewish daemons last year, thanks to subreddits like r/DemonlatryPractices who would constantly try to push propaganda about Lilith being a "MeSoPoTaMiAn PaGaN GoDdEsS" and other excuses for appropriating her. That same subreddit decided to attack me when I merely mentioned (on a completely different subreddit, mind you) that I disagreed with them appropriating Lilith, and in turn I got witch-hunted so that's great lmao. 🤡 . . . Please avoid that subreddit at all costs, it's an absolute cesspit of cultural appropriation and passive anti-Semitism, and honestly they exhibit cult-like behaviour if you do so much as simply disagree with the appropriation of Jewish daemons. It's pretty disturbing... But yeah anyways sorry for rambling lol. . . . I'd also recommend avoiding people and organisations such as S. Connolly, V.K. Jehannum, Satan & Suns/Sons, BlackWitchCoven, The BecomeALivingGod Forum, The Satanic Temple, Joy Of Satan Ministries, The Order Of Nine Angles, scarletarosa (a user that literally exists here on Tumblr... yikes), etc. They engage in Jewish appropriation, and some of them even have ties to Nazism, racism, and other forms of bigotry too. . . . Some other Jewish daemons/spirits that you should avoid appropriating alongside Lilith are; Naamah, Agrat Bat Mahalath, Eisheth Zenunim, Samael, Abyzou, Shamdon, and The Grigori / Watcher Angels. . . . There are many other closed practices too, but if you'd like to do further research I can leave that up to you. ^.^ . . . Okay sorry about that huge ramble lmao, just thought I would get that out of the way before getting into the main post because I think it's an important point to make and I don't want you to fall down a cultural appropriation apologist pipeline like I did at the beginning of my practise lol. Xx . . . ] End Quote ~

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So that's pretty much it! I'm sorry if I couldn't provide much, but I hope this answer was helpful nonetheless!

~❀~ Baphometic Blessings ~❀~

-Kody

[pangolin-404]

Im honestly really worried for ranboo. Most people that get this big on the internet either get desensitized to stuff and become a bit of an asshole (or a full asshole) or get destroyed because of how much they care. Ranboo seems to be heading towards the second category and I wish for them to be okay

[post]

I really have no idea where I see Ranboo going from here. There are plenty of big creators who do good (Jacksepticeye's Thankmas, MCC charity events) and to me, the Particles for Palestine event was like that. A big creator utilizing their platform to raise awareness and charity. I... genuinely I don't see how people are so upset with Ranboo over . what? Not doing more? Not coming out with in-depth, nuanced reactions to global events? When they probably knew as much as you or I did.

Yes he broke promises, he is not a guiltless victim; he kept playing TLOU2 even after told of its inspiration, he didn't do as much charity as he said he would, and it's good he's acknowledging that, but this visceral reaction to him runs deeper than that, it looks like? I feel like he should stop raising peoples' expectations and over-promising; he's one guy, he's young.

I know it's probably mostly in Twitter--in the Tumblr tags, the worst I saw was a couple people calling them spineless (sorry Ranboo, but good lird, he is a little bit spineless for not telling people to stop idolizing him). But I can't wrap my head around the logic behind people going after his ankles.

Now, I personally can't think of anyone fitting the "get destroyed" option you claim has happened, Anon. So I'll be honest I think it's a little bit overdramatic, but I agree with you in that I'm also worried for Ranboo.

I worry that a whole nonprofit will be too much for them. That is a whole organization, and even if they have others working with them, that is a lifelong commitment. This is something he cannot back out of (or he will be making another empty promise) or give to someone else to handle (he said he would be active in it).

Ranboo has Generation Loss/Chronicle 0, White Noise, The Sorry Boys (if that still exists. please it's been months,), his usual streams and YouTube videos, and his own personal life and self to tend to. Genuinely, I worry a whole entire nonprofit organization that intends to address very heavy topics will break the camel's back. I don't know what that will look like, but I doubt it'd be great for his mental health and anxiety (and I worry talking too much about that, lest I get parasocial, if I haven't already!).

(I'll be honest, I don't expect the organization to go anywhere past its first few months of existence; if it does, it will be without their major role in it, or they'd be stretched too thin. I feel bad for saying that.)

All due respect to him, of course, but he is a variety gamer on twitch dot teevee, and I do not understand why people demand more and more charity and apology from him when his job is to play video games and make people laugh.

I get why people want him to state his stances, to be assured he supports Palestine. To be vocal about a tragedy happening. I get why people expect a charity stream during pride month, or an eventual donation to somewhere to help during a disaster. What I do not understand is how this isn't enough for some people.

to quote something I said when talking to a friend about this: I think he should tweet "yall need to respect me as a regular everyday person and stop seeing me as a paragon" and delete twitter and turn off the internet in his house

[appalachianapologies]

okay so I was tagged by @lailuhhh and @rosieblogstuff and I think one other person (i am so sorry i forgor) many days ago and i am finally doing the first sentence of ten works thing. I guess the general consensus is no one knows whether or not this is for WIPs or posted things so like many others I'll just do a combo of both :D

From a wip that is uhhhh 22k and counting long, titled in my google docs as simply "fuck it desi lore," starting off strong with a sentence that I don't think is actually grammatically correct but you know what sometimes the vibes matter more than grammar and you can quote me on that: Later, Desi will feel guilty for it.

From chapter one of Remittent Distress, we have a line that sounds like it's going to be macriley WHICH IT IS NOT- (PS she's just out on a little mini mission she's not dead or anything) During the three days that Riley has been gone, Mac's been coping poorly.

Another chapter one first sentence, we have the first line of what's shaping up to be my next book! Cue the school intercom noise... "Good morning Ravens, happy Tuesday, and happy first day of school!"

Next we have chapter one (not the prologue) of False Dawn, which is a WIP that keeps me up at night and makes me feel far too many emotions at once: Bozer has a strange affinity for sending physical letters.

We have a bit of a secret fic that's up next- set in Tender Mercies universe, except this is set approximately 10 years in the future from Aground, the most recent fic in the series. Mac makes it a single step into the visitation cell before freezing on the spot.

Next up we have the first line of one of my favorite fics of mine, where we get some Sam Cage! (sam my beloved). Get ready for the first sentence of Episteme! Samantha Cage, despite her evergrowing want to be out of the life she threw herself into, isn’t exactly sure how to stay out of it.

Okay so this is the first line at the moment, but might not be if/when I finally get around to writing the vast majority of this fic. After drafting out an entire fic on a plane ride about a year ago, I only actually fully wrote out a few paragraphs. Here's the beginning of it as of right now: “Arriving in forty-five minutes,” comes the eventual answer through Mac’s earpiece. 

Now we have the first line from Past + Fire + Present, purely because I think it's a fabulous addition to the whole point of this post (and also this does happen to be a fic that i am quite happy about how it came out). The first sentence is a little bit lack-luster though... Hands.

Changing things up a bit, this next sentence is from my 95% finished The Martian fic that has been 95% finished for over a year at this point. I really just need to write two more paragraphs and post it at this point, but here's the start! Sneaking out of Beck's quarters as soon as he stepped out to talk to the rest of the crew was probably not the brightest of plans, but I can’t take it back now.

And to end things off, we're going to hop back to Remittent Distress, but this time in the form of the first sentence for chapter three! (Currently working on it, fear not) It’s to be expected.

I'm fairly certain that at this point everyone that I know has been tagged in this (and I'm also like a week or two late at this point), so if you see this, assume you're being tagged! (and also if you write your own please tag me somewhere in it so I can read your sentences :D)

[screechthemighty]

Parts of this have been in my head since LAST YEAR, I literally posted an excerpt of this ages ago, I'm SO hyped to have this posted. Hope you enjoy!

the unknowable tomorrow | a tristamp fanfic part sixteen: wolfwood and meryl

content warnings: animal death, suffocation, body horror, suicide mention, childhood trauma (wolfwood's), self harm.

works cited: this chapter quotes <i>watership down</i> by richard adams, a reference that others in the fandom inspired me to make.

patch notes: switched out names in one paragraph because i wrote the wrong one (thank you to fabro on ao3 for pointing that out), and added a bit onto the last part to establish that wolfwood is still giving vash the lighter.

.

The sun was half-cloaked by the last dregs of a sandstorm. Wolfwood instinctively pulled his new coat over his mouth. “See anything?” he asked Meryl.

“No, I…” She looked around. “I don’t think there’s much of anything.”

That wasn’t from the sandstorm, either. As the air kept getting clearer, Wolfwood could see that they were in the middle of damn nowhere. No major landmarks, roads, nothing but sand and unimpressive rocks. “Well,” he said, “that’s just peachy.”

“Vash can’t be far, right?”

“He hasn’t been yet. Maybe there’s a big enough rock for shelter somewhere…wind’s blowing that way so he’d want to be on this side of anything…”

Meryl was already on the move. She might’ve been a city girl, but pretty much everyone on No Man’s Land knew how to survive a sandstorm. They probably didn’t let her behind the wheel on that truck without a refresher course. “Vash?” Meryl called. “Vash, we’re here…can you hear us?”

Wolfwood trailed after her, scanning the rocks carefully. Vash would probably hear them, unless he’d fallen asleep somehow. Falling asleep during a storm like this sounded like something Vash would do. To be fair, nothing much else you could do in a storm; if you had the chance to catch some shut-eye safely, might as well take it…

“Wolfwood!” Meryl cried.

That wasn’t a triumphant yell. She was scared. Wolfwood took off towards her so fast he nearly tripped over the loose sand. Meryl was kneeling by a large rock, digging sand off a large, feathery body: a thomas, unmoving, didn’t even look like it was breathing. Wolfwood could just make out the curve of a red-clad shoulder and a puff of blond hair poking out between the thomas’s body and the rock they’d taken shelter behind.

Vash wasn’t moving, either.

Shit, shit. He joined Meryl in moving aside the sand that had piled up along either side of the bodies. The thomas definitely wasn’t breathing. Not good. “Vash?”  Wolfwood said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Hey, Blondie, get up.” Vash’s hand clenched into a tighter fist, but he didn’t move. His face was buried in the thomas’s side, as if he’d just sat down for a break and fallen into a deep sleep. “Kid, can you hear me?”

Vash shrank more closely against the thomas’s body, but didn’t reply. Wolfwood almost tried shaking him, but only barely managed to stop himself at the memory of Vash’s brief touch aversion last time. Freaking him out wouldn’t help, and Wolfwood didn’t want to get even non-fatally shot.

But what do I do?

“Vash,” Meryl said gently. “It’s really us. We’re back. I’m sorry it took so long.” She pulled out her canteen and unscrewed the cap. Her voice stayed calm despite the tremor in her hands. “Here, look. This is real.”

She carefully let a trickle of water fall onto Vash’s head. After a second, he tilted his face towards the stream. He didn’t look as physically damaged as he had in the aquifer town, but there was a hazy confusion in his eyes that Wolfwood didn’t like. It was the kind of expression you usually saw on folks who’d been left to die in the wastes but managed to claw their way back to civilization. That much time out there with nothing but the sand and worms for company did things to a guy.

Please don’t let him be too badly scrambled.

“…wh…” Vash blinked at them in confusion. “’eryl? Nico?”

“Two for two,” Wolfwood said. Good. He recognizes us. “Are you hurt?”

Vash kept staring at them like he couldn’t believe they were real. He moved away from the thomas enough to reach out to both of them, resting his hands on their shoulders and squeezing slightly. “It’s really us,” Meryl repeated. She reached towards him carefully. “I promise.”

Vash rested his cheek against Meryl’s hand, and didn’t protest when Wolfwood carefully cradled the back of his head in one hand. His undercut was over-grown, and he even had the start of a beard growing. “Going for the scruffy look?” Wolfwood asked.

Vash laughed, a hoarse and relieved sound, before pulling both of them into a hug. Wolfwood hugged him back. Meryl’s hand bumped against his and she rubbed Vash’s back and started humming Vash’s tune. Vash leaned into the embrace more as he hummed along with her.

Wolfwood joined it. He felt clumsy, out of place doing so, but it seemed to provide Vash some desperately-needed comfort. He must have been alone a long time. At least the thomas’s corpse didn’t seem too decayed. He hadn’t been lying there with a rotting body for too long.

The sky cleared. Wolfwood could see the sun was setting, the moons starting to take over lighting the sky. “We should set up camp soon,” he said gently. “Figure out what we’re doing next. Do you want to help?” He could do it all on his own, easily, but the movement might do Vash some good.

Vash sniffed quietly and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.” He lifted his head; he was still smiling, but there were some tear tracks on his face. “I can help.”

Wolfwood kept an eye on Vash as they set up camp. He moved a bit stiffly at first, but loosened up as he moved around, so it was probably just from being in that hunched-over position for so long. He kept glancing at the two of them as if making sure they were still there. Meryl must have noticed; she would carefully touch his arm whenever they were close. Wolfwood picked up the gesture too, bumping into Vash as they touched each other. Every touch seemed to bring Vash back to reality, and his eyes were a lot clearer by the time they settled down to eat.

“Feel better?” Meryl asked when Vash was done with his soup.

Vash nodded. “Lots. Thank you,” he said. He still sat close, but didn’t seem to need physical contact quite as badly. “I, uhm…I’m in a bit of a pickle.”

“Really? Didn’t notice.” Wolfwood checked the sky. He could make a rough guess where they were based on the constellations, but he needed something specific. “Where are we, anyway?”

“That’s part of the pickle. I…I don’t actually know.” His shoulders slumped. “I was having some technical issues with the equipment they gave me from Ship Three. On my way to get it fixed, I…” He glanced at Wolfwood sheepishly. “…might’ve stuck my nose in someone else’s conflict…”

Wolfwood tried not to roll his eyes. “’Course you did.”

Meryl thumped him in the chest before turning her attention back to Vash. “What happened?”

“They were shaking someone down for protection money. I thought it was just something I could talk them down from, but when the debt collectors realized who I was, they tried to kidnap me? And when I ran, they just kept chasing me. I was trying to lose them and it didn’t matter where I ran, they kept coming after me…” He looked around. “And by the time I was able to lose them, I was out in the middle of nowhere. Couldn’t find my way back anywhere, especially with my equipment running. I don’t know if Helen had caught something already and all the running just made it worse or if she got something along the way, but she just kept getting worse and worse…” He glanced guiltily at the thomas’ body. “I did everything I could for her, but…”

A few tears slipped down his face. Meryl leaned against him immediately. “I’m sure she knows that,” she said gently. “It wasn’t your fault, Vash.”

Vash sniffed. His spoon tapped an anxious drumbeat against the rim of his bowl. “I thought I felt one of my sisters,” he continued, “but whenever I tried to go to her, she just kept moving further and further away. I don’t even know if she was real or I was just imagining her. I may have just wasted our time…”

Something clicked in Wolfwood’s mind. “Which way?”

“Uhm…south, I think?” Vash had to think about it. “Yeah, we’ve been going south.”

Wolfwood double-checked the stars. They were familiar, and if the Plant was going south… “Sand steamer. Has to be. We’re probably near a route. All we have to do is find the tracks if they’re still there, and hello, civilization.” He shrugged. “Not sure how long it’ll take, but it’ll be better than walking in circles.”

Vash visibly perked up at the suggestion. Meryl gave him a one-armed hug and grinned at him. “When did you feel her last?” she asked.

“Yesterday. It was pretty faint, but if I could still…”

“Then it can’t be too far, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That’s good, then. We’ll get you back home in no time.”

 Vash looked like he might start crying again, at least time from relief. Wolfwood leaned over to tousle his hair. “Just leave it to us,” he added.

“Thanks, guys.” Vash smiled at them shakily. “Thank you.”

So that was it. Another hike across the sands. Hopefully it would be boring, and all Vash would need was some company.

Hopefully.

.

Meryl woke up the next morning to something tickling her face.

She jerked away instinctively, bracing herself to see an inquisitive worm right by her bedside. What she saw instead was Vash, curled up a lot closer than he had been when they’d all fallen asleep. He was facing her; what she’d felt had been a few strands of his hair drifting into her face. One of his hands reached back to grip Wolfwood’s jacket tightly, as if he were holding into a favorite toy. Wolfwood had fallen asleep with his hand resting over Vash’s.

Poor Vash, she thought. He must have still been worried they’d vanish on him. She’d heard stories of how badly the long isolation of being lost could affect someone mentally. Add his broken equipment and the death of his thomas on top of that…

He definitely needs us.

Meryl started making a mental list as she crawled out of her improvised sleeping arrangement—shared blanket underneath, individual blanket on top, her backpack as a pillow—and started setting up the camping stove to cook breakfast. They would need to make sure Vash kept eating, that he wasn’t too quiet and trapped in his head, and that he was back in civilization as soon as possible. They’d get him in contact with Ship Three somehow, then maybe, hopefully, he'd be safe. Or safe as he could get out here.

Something told her things were about to get a lot less safe for Vash in general. Legends about him went back years; the larger bounty July City had placed on his head was a more recent development, but there had been smaller bounties before. Depending on what year it was, maybe Vash had one of those smaller bounties already. It would explain why he’d been chased so far and for so long.

Well, if he does, we’ll figure that out as we go.

“Do you reckon we’ll have to force feed him?” Wolfwood asked.

When Meryl glanced his way, he’d lifted his head up to squint at her against the rising sun. “I hope not.” Meryl peeled open a tin of meat. “Do you think we have enough supplies to get him somewhere safe?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll have to make do one way or another.” Wolfwood started so sit up, but was kept in place as Vash moved closer to him. “Oi. Vash. I’ve got to take a leak.”

“Mmph?” Vash mumbled.

“Bathroom. I’ll be back in a second.” Wolfwood carefully started peeling Vash’s hand off his jacket. “Meryl’s right over there. You’re okay.”

Vash still looked half-asleep when he rolled over to look at Meryl. She took one of his hands and squeezed it gently. Vash squeezed back, slowly looking more awake as he did. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Meryl replied with a smile. “Want to help me with breakfast?” Keeping him busy seemed to help his mood, which was a good thing. They’d have a lot to do before this was all over.

By the time Wolfwood was back, they had the meat cooking and some kind of rough bread sliced and ready to go. They all ate in silence, huddled together in the shade of their makeshift tarp tent. Vash, thankfully, ate every bite.

“So,” Wolfwood said when the last bites were cleared away. “We find the sand steamer route, pick a direction, and pray. We’ll hit something eventually, it’s just a matter of when. Food won’t be an issue. I’m fine to hunt. Water…” He shrugged. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“I’m not opposed to hitchhiking,” Vash said quietly. “I know it’s a risk, but I think it will be worth it. And I’m fine with stowing away on a sand steamer if we have to. I’ve done it before.”

“That’s the spirit. Any objections, Meryl?”

Meryl couldn’t help making a face. She usually tried to follow the rules, and a lot of sand steamers were not kind to stowaways…but this was an extraordinary circumstance. “As long as we don’t get caught,” she said finally.

Wolfwood grinned at her, then at Vash. “We’re bringing Fancy College Girl down to our level,” he said in a mock whisper. “We’ll make a survivalist out of her, yet.”

Meryl raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want to do that? I might actually start running people over for real if you pull me down too far.”

Wolfwood let out a bark of startled laughter, which set Vash off in giggles. Even Meryl couldn’t help laughing. “You’re so full of shit,” Wolfwood said. “You’re too good to go that far.”

He sounded like he meant it. There was an edge of something else in his voice—sadness, perhaps—but he moved on before Meryl could read into it too much. “Better get moving. We’ll want to cover as much ground as we can while the sun’s still low.”

He wasn’t wrong. That didn’t make his sudden push to action feel any less like a deflection, though. Meryl made note of it and moved on, not wanting to start the day off with a fight.

Besides, Wolfwood was right. Whenever they were with Vash, he needed them to be a united front. Supportive. Normal. Analyzing Wolfwood would just have to wait a bit longer.

.

Wolfwood might not have been super attached to the thomas chicks they’d raised in Hopeland, but he always did his best for them. Always felt the sting of failure and disappointment if one died. Those memories kept him from rushing Vash as he stripped his dead thomas of her gear and stood over her body with a regretful look on his face.

“I’m sure she knows you tried,” Wolfwood said. “They’re smarter than they look.”

Vash nodded. “I think she did, too,” he said quietly, “but that’s…almost worse, in a way. Is that strange? That I’d rather people be angry with me and blame me than say they don’t?”

Strange? Probably. But Wolfwood understood that, too, so he didn’t say anything. He just bumped his shoulder against Vash’s and looked down at the body, too.

We’ll get him back, Wolfwood promised, but couldn’t you have at least died from something that would let us eat you? Vash guessed it was some kind of infection, so it wasn’t worth the risk when there were perfectly healthy worms out there. Still annoying, not that he’d ever voice that thought aloud to Vash. It may have been a practical thought, but practicality and grief didn’t always mix.

The first chunk of their trip was dead silent for the most part. Wolfwood tried not to worry about it too much. Vash didn’t look too bad, despite his silence, so he was probably just saving his energy. He would open up a bit when they stopped for water and food—chat a little, eat what he was given, even smile—and he’d stopped looking at them like he expected them to vanish into thin air. That was the important part.

Still didn’t hurt to check in.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asked during one of their pit stops.

Vash shook his head. “Tired, mostly,” he said. “In my head, not just my body.”

“You want to take a nap?”

“I want to be out of here more.”

“Fair.” Wolfwood tousled Vash’s hair and left his head on Vash’s head. “Just be sure you get some sleep tonight. I can carry you, but I don’t need your ego bruised along with everything else.”

“What if I like being carried?”

“Well, you’re gonna owe me some cigarettes in that case. I don’t give rides for free.”

Vash laughed quietly as he leaned into Wolfwood’s touch. “Okay. That’s fair.”

He didn’t end up directly being asked to be carried, though it was hard to tell if he’d taken Wolfwood seriously. He did start actively looking around as the day went on, slowly scanning their surroundings as if checking for signs of life. “Is anything starting to feel familiar?” Meryl asked.

“No, it’s…sorry to say this, but I think there’s a lot of worms somewhere. I can hear them singing.” Wolfwood started scanning the ground. He saw Meryl check the sky instead, one hand reaching for her derringer. “I don’t think they’re a threat. It feels like they’re resting, or…maybe nesting? We should be fine as long as we avoid the nest.”

“I mean,” Wolfwood said, glancing Meryl’s way, “unless there’s any grubs that are easy pickings…”

Credit to her: she didn’t even turn to glare this time. Her focus stayed on Vash. “Will you be able to tell where it is?”

“Yeah, I can figure it out. We’ll be okay.”

At first, they just spotted a few worms flying overhead. They were still going to avoid the main nest, but they all agreed to follow them from a safe distance, just to see if they’d nested near an easily accessible water source. They followed the worms up an incline and to a ridge that overlooked…

It wasn’t the aquifer town. The sudden, overwhelming sense of déjà vu that hit him when he saw what was below made him check for other familiar signs, but there were no cliffs, none of the other sights he remembered from that jump. But the town below had been leveled in almost exactly the same way. Flattened down into rubble, save for one y-shaped post that stood tall in the center. The damage was older, a lot of the stones worm smooth by sandstorms, but even with that wear and tear and even from a distance, Wolfwood could tell.

Only one thing could ruin a town like this. Correction: only one person.

Vash knew it, too, from the way his face fell. Between their reactions and Wolfwood’s recounting of the aquifer town, Meryl must’ve put two and two together. She stepped closer to Vash and carefully took his hand. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

Vash didn’t say anything.

Wolfwood almost joined Meryl in comforting Vash, but something about this situation bothered him. He could feel that sense of déjà vu still tugging insistently on his mind. He knew this place. It wasn’t just the similarities to the aquifer town; he really knew it. But how?

He started intently at the Y-shaped beam, at the worms crawling among the rubble. He stepped back a few yarz and glanced to the right. Saw a rock with a flat surface, perfect for sitting and smoking.

Wolfwood’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

He was surprised it had taken him so long to remember. Then again, maybe his brain had been trying to spare him by forgetting. It hadn’t been the worst day of his life, but it had been one of the most painfully uncomfortable.

He’d thought the Eye vehicle pulling up alongside him and offering him a lift had been a blessing after days of walking. Then he realized he’d be sharing space with Legato Bluesummers and Chapel. In the same truck. It had almost been enough to make him jump back out, but there wasn’t a way to leave without causing a scene. He’d crammed himself in the back and hoped no one said anything to him.

No one did, but the tension in the truck had made him feel sick. It had been something of a relief when Legato had suddenly ordered them to stop the truck. That had given him a chance to get out and smoke. He remembered hearing the irate buzzing of worms and the sound debris moving. When he’d looked over the ridge, Bluesummers had been moving rocks with his brain, uncovering worm nests as he did. They buzzed and swarmed around him, but never got too close. Zazie’s influence, if Wolfwood had to guess.

None of my business, he’d decided, and gone back to smoking. It would’ve just been a weird footnote in an awkward, shitty day if Chapel hadn’t opened his mouth.

“The pup is still chasing ghosts, I see. Shameful…”

He’d hit the ground before he could finish the word.

Wolfwood wasn’t sure what had spooked him more: the way Chapel had just dropped, his body practically bending in half, or the way that Bluesummers seemed to just appear. His eyes had stayed fixed on Chapel, pale blue, pupils dilated, angrier than Wolfwood had ever seen them. He was trapped between two of the most powerful people in the Eye of Michael, two men who infamously did not like each other, and one of them had decided to draw first blood. It had been enough to freeze Wolfwood in place, heart racing, ready to run but not sure where he could run to.

“Another word,” Bluesummers had said, “and I’ll rip out your tongue. Are we perfectly clear?”

Seconds and hours passed before Chapel clumsily nodded. Bluesummers had let him go with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Let’s go.”

Wolfwood had never been a more perfect model of obedience than he was in that moment. And he hadn’t felt like he could breathe properly until…

“Nico?”

Until we made it to the sand steamer depot.

“Is something wrong?”

Wolfwood looked at Vash and smiled. “Something’s right,” he said. “I know exactly where we are.”

.

The town had been out of sight for a few hours, but all Meryl could think about was Jeneora Rock.

She couldn’t help going through the list of towns and settlements that had gone missing during the history of No Man’s Land. Jeneora Rock, the aquifer town, the place they’d left behind: all would just be footnotes one day. Places that had succumbed to poor luck, the elements, losing their Plant. How many of those places, she wondered, had actually been destroyed by Millions Knives? How many people had he killed?

And why? What had these people done? Had they done anything at all?

Vash must have been wondering the same thing. His silence had taken a more sorrowful feeling, or at least Meryl thought so. He had stopped walking with purpose. He just mutely went in the direction that Wolfwood had indicated, his eyes sad and distant.

Wolfwood saw it, too. He’d been in good spirits when they first started walking, clearly pleased with himself for remembering the way, but looked more and more concerned the more they walked. Meryl caught his eye and mouthed, “What do we do?” Trying to talk about Nai seemed risky, especially when Vash was so quiet. It seemed to her that he’d be just as likely to shut them out as he would open up.

There has to be something.

“Hold this,” Wolfwood said suddenly. He passed Meryl his rifle and picked up the pace to catch up with Vash. “Ho, ro, the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o…” Vash didn’t react. Wolfwood pressed on, as if prodding Vash to see how he’d respond. “Ho, ro, the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o!”

Still nothing. He wasn’t even responding in an attempt to make Wolfwood feel better. Wolfwood wasn’t deterred. He kept jogging until he was right behind Vash. “Well, in the bog there was a hole, a rare hole, a rattlin' hole…”

And scooped Vash up in one smooth motion, throwing him across his shoulders as if he barely weighed a thing. Vash yelped. “Nico!”

“Hole in the bog, and the bog down in the valley-o…everybody! Ho, ro, the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o…” Wolfwood somehow managed to spin as he walked, giving Meryl a glimpse of Vash’s face. He looked startled, clinging to Wolfwood for dear life, but there was a hint of a smile starting to appear on his face. “Ho, ro, the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o!”

Somewhere on the other side of Wolfwood’s boisterous singing, she thought she heard Vash laugh. He made it through another verse before thumping Wolfwood on the back. “All right, I yield!” he said.

“Yield how?” Wolfwood said, spinning around again.

“No more sulking, I promise.”

“Good.” Wolfwood put Vash back down. Vash was still smiling, but there was a wobbliness to it that said he was on the verge of tears, too. “We’re not gonna let your idiot brother ruin our stupid trip, right?”

“No.”

“Atta boy.” Wolfwood pulled Vash into a one-armed hug. “What’s done is done and you can’t undo it. It’s not your fault.”

Vash nodded against Wolfwood’s shoulders. He sniffed slightly, a few tears slipping loose. Meryl took that as her cue to run forward and join the group hug. “He’s right,” she said gently. “But I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Vash’s free hand gripped her shoulder tightly. He wasn’t full-on sobbing, but she could hear some tears in his voice as he spoke: “’s not just him. This has just…it’s been a rough few weeks. Less a straw that broke the thomas’s back and more a boulder, you know?”

“I understand. That makes total sense.”

“I’m really tired.”

“You can rest as much as you want once we get you back into a town,” Wolfwood said gently. “I think this station had an inn, so we can always get a room…”

Vash suddenly tensed. She heard an inhale as Wolfwood started to ask him something, but Wolfwood suddenly went quiet. And just as Meryl was about to ask what was wrong…

“You guys hear that too, right?” Vash asked.

She did hear it. There was a truck somewhere nearby.

They broke off from the hug and took off towards the sound. There were a few sand dunes in their way; Vash probably would’ve cleared them first if he hadn’t tripped. Wolfwood slowed enough to make sure Vash was okay before scrambling to the top. “Are you okay?” Meryl gasped as she caught up to Vash.

“Fine!” Vash flopped over onto his stomach and scrambled to his feet. “Nico, can you see them?!”

“They’re heading our way! We can catch them!” Wolfwood called back. The declaration gave Meryl and Vash enough energy to clear the dune and start down the other side. There was definitely a truck coming, following a trail of densely compacted sand created by years of sand steamers taking the same route.

It did occur to Meryl that they must have looked insane as they stood alongside the route, waving their arms, yelling themselves hoarse. She was a little surprised the truck stopped, but extremely grateful it did. “What are you three doing out here on foot?” asked the driver, an older man with leathery skin and short-cropped gray hair.

“Thomas didn’t make it,” Vash gasped. “Long story…can we get a lift? I have money…”

The driver looked at the three of them, then at his companion (an equally tanned woman about the same age). She regarded them with a look that was critical with Wolfwood, then softened when it passed Meryl and Vash. “You any good with those guns?” she asked.

Wolfwood patted Vash’s shoulder. “I’ve seen him do things with one bullet that you wouldn’t believe,” he said.

It was true, but Meryl understood why the driver looked skeptical. Vash didn’t exactly look threatening at the moment. Still, they shared a glance and nodded. “All right, you three can be on worm duty, then. There’s room in the back.”

Vash looked like he might start crying again, but Meryl knew this time they would be happy tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re both lifesavers.”

His obvious gratitude thawed the driver and his companion a lot more, probably because it made them seem a lot more desperate than sinister. They even got out of the car to help them move around some of the cargo in the truck’s open back. It was mostly bags of thomas feed. They introduced themselves as Connor and Samantha Moore. They did small cargo hauls to local areas. Usually, they would travel with a sand steamer convoy, but there was a delay with some of their products. “Bit of a pain in the ass, but that’s life, isn’t it?” Connor said as he moved one last bag aside. “We’ll be driving straight through the night, so you might want to sleep in shifts.”

“We can do that. Where are we going?” Vash asked.

“Hopeland. It’s not too big, but you should be able to get other places from there. They breed thoma locally, so you can probably get a new ride if you want.”

“We can work with that. Thank you again.”

Hopeland, Hopeland…why did that sound familiar? Meryl glanced at Wolfwood. The look on his face—eyes distant, shoulders suddenly tense—clued her in immediately. That was the place that the sand steamer had nearly crashed into. The place that Wolfwood had been so desperate to save.

He said he’d been raised in an orphanage. He specifically mentioned an orphanage in Hopeland. Putting two and two together was easy. Seeing how last time they’d been one year out from Meryl being born, she could easily see how this could get messy, and Wolfwood must have known it, too.

But when Wolfwood was in Vash’s line of sight, he went right back to being cheerful. He helped Vash up onto the truck, took his rifle back, and settled in without saying anything. Fortunately, Vash lay down for a nap almost immediately, giving Meryl a chance to ask.

“Will this be okay?” she whispered. “Do you think…”

Wolfwood wouldn’t look directly at her. “It’ll be fine. We just have to make sure Vash is safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. We probably won’t be around too long once he’s settled in anyway.” It sounded to Meryl like he was trying to convince himself. “We’ll be fine.”

She didn’t think he believed that, and she wasn’t sure she did, either. But Wolfwood was right: they had to get Vash back to safety. If this was the best way to do it, she guessed they’d just have to roll with whatever came in Hopeland.

Including, if she had to be honest, her ever growing desire for answers.

.

He dreamed about being suffocated again. Not by hands this time. Something sprouted somewhere in his chest and started growing out his throat. It tasted like acid, like the vials and blood. He coughed up thomas feathers and potato flower petals. Every cough made his body shake like the ringing of a church bell, and every vibration seemed to stretch him out and warp him into something…

Nico?

A thousand stars stared down at him when he opened his eyes. The first deep breath he took almost hurt from how cold and dry the air was, but at least he could breathe. Vash was crouched nearby, hovering just out of arm’s reach.

“’m fine,” Wolfwood said out of instinct. He scanned his surroundings. Truck bed. Thomas feed. Meryl curled up in a corner, staring at him, too. Right. He remembered where he was now. “Dream…’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

Meryl, thankfully, didn’t need to be told twice. That left Vash, who was supposed to be on watch for bugs and bandits. He seemed a lot more interested in Wolfwood, though. “That sounded like a pretty bad dream,” he said softly. “Do you need anything?”

Nothing you can give me. But that wasn’t the answer Vash would want, so Wolfwood tried to think of anything for him to do, just to keep the kid happy. He was so wrapped up in his own brain that he almost missed Vash holding his hand out to him, a questioning look on his face.

Wolfwood first took it to stall for time, but when Vash carefully rested his prosthetic over their clasped hands, he suddenly didn’t want to let go. He felt so small and vulnerable, like the little kid who’d turned up in Hopeland with a bullet in his side.

Hopeland.

He was going home. Not as the child he’d once been, not even as a wounded innocent in need of help. Instead, he was…this. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, herding the real innocent to safety against his baser instincts.

He just hoped he wasn’t there long enough to ruin anything.

Vash’s thumb grazed over battered knuckles, picked down cuticles, nails stained with blood, and didn’t seem to notice any of it. “Have you heard the one about the rabbit prince?” he asked.

The hardened part of Wolfwood wanted to lie, to pull his hand away and make sure Vash got back to watch. But he still felt so small, and he suddenly understood why Livio would reach out to him in the dark and ask for a story. Much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t think he could make it through the night without some kind of comfort. “Don’t think so,” he said. “Tell me.”

The stars passed overhead, the car kept driving towards sunrise, and Vash softly told the story of El-ahrairah, Prince with a Thousand Enemies. Whenever they catch you, they will kill you, but first they must catch you. Be cunning and full of tricks, and your people shall never be destroyed.

The moons set. The sun rose.

Wolfwood finally felt like he’d stopped shaking.

.

They acted like the previous night hadn’t happened, but Meryl couldn’t get it out of her head. She may have been half-awake for most of it, but she still remembered the quiet, pained sounds Wolfwood had made, the way he muffled them with his jacket even in sleep. Something had him wound up, and it wasn’t hard to guess what.

Maybe going there is a mistake. Maybe we should get off sooner. But there was nothing around for iles. A glimpse of the Moores’ map during a stop to recharge and stretch confirmed that. Stopping there overnight at least would be the best move for Vash’s health.

But would Wolfwood be able to hold up?

She wanted to ask, but he stuck too close to Vash for her to have a private conversation with him. Maybe he was doing it on purpose, trying to avoid talking about it with her, or maybe whatever he’d dreamed about was making him overprotective. It was hard to say.

Vash didn’t seem to mind the proximity, though he was more restless that day. She thought at first his constant shifting and fidgeting was him being anxious to get to safety. She didn’t realize something might be physically wrong until they hit an especially bumpy patch of road and she saw him grimace. “Are you okay?” Meryl asked.

“I…” Vash glanced over his shoulder before dropping his voice to a whisper. “…can’t believe I’m saying this, but if you dunked me in a Plant tank right now, I wouldn’t even complain.”

“That dirty?”

“Every scar itches. No…” He held out a hand as Wolfwood started to grab his canteen. “No, we need to drink that more. I just wish…”

Vash trailed off and stared down at his hands. Meryl glanced at Wolfwood, but he looked just as confused as she did. “He made water once,” Vash said finally. “I know he can do it. I wish I could…”

His hands clenched into fists. Meryl immediately scooted closer and rested a hand on one of his fists. He sighed, relaxed his grip, and took her hand. “Not letting him ruin the trip,” Vash promised, “it just isn’t fun being hyperspecialized.”

“Maybe we can reprogram you in one of those things,” Wolfwood said jokingly. Then, after a pause, “Could we…?”

“No idea. We’ve never tried. I’ve only gotten into a tank to help the others. They nearly dropped me into a quarantine tank once when I got a bad case of food poisoning, but it cleared up before they had to go that far.”

Wolfwood gave a low whistle. “Damn. Surprised we didn’t show up for that.”

“I was too, at first, but I don’t think you could’ve done much. I had good care, and half the kids on the kickball team were keeping me company the whole time.” Vash smiled fondly. “All adults now. Can you believe that?”

She couldn’t, actually. It was another reminder of how old Vash really was, how differently time passed for him.

“Point is,” Vash continued, “I’ll live. But I’m gonna need dibs on the shower.”

“Of course!” Meryl said.

“I’ll fight you for it,” Wolfwood said.

Meryl glared at him, but Vash just laughed. “Whatever you say, Nico.”

Meryl couldn’t tell if Vash was confident Wolfwood was joking or confident that he’d win. Either way, it was good to hear him laughing.

The conversation seemed to cheer Vash up a bit. He still winced whenever his scars were jostled by the rough drive, but there was a spark of determination that lit up his eyes—as if he knew now the pain was temporary, that all he had to do was hold on a little longer. Meryl still held his hand, trying to bolster Vash’s strength. Wolfwood had to keep both hands on his rifle, but let Vash hold onto his jacket.

They drove. Stopped once for lunch. Kept driving.

Hopeland appeared on the horizon at sunset.

Most of Hopeland sat at the base of a mesa with ship wreckage at the top. Some man-made roads and buildings lined the sides, but the buildings looked unoccupied, so the roads only lead to one place. Hopeland Orphanage, according to a sign they drove past. Wolfwood refused to look at it. Vash’s gaze lingered on it, just for a second.

Has he guessed? Maybe. Vash wasn’t stupid. He didn’t say anything, perhaps sensing how tense Wolfwood was, or maybe more focused on the promise of a shower and rest.

It was too late for the Moores to drop off their cargo, so they drove to the local hotel instead. Despite Vash’s attempts, they refused to take any money from him. “If you want to repay us,” said Samantha, “you can meet up with his in the morning to help unload. We’re just happy we could help.”

Vash looked like he might start crying again, but Meryl didn’t blame him. She was grateful for the kindness, and she hadn’t even been trapped alone in the wastes for days and days. “Thank you,” he said. “It’s nice to know there’s good folks out here.”

Isn’t that the truth?

The hotel had open rooms, and a small selection of food available to purchase. Wolfwood focused on getting food, which meant there was not even a half-hearted fight between him and Vash for the shower. Meryl tidied up the space as Vash got clean: checking the beds, adjusting pillows, dusting away a bit of sand that had leaked onto the windowsill. Wolfwood came up during this with a basket of food and an electric kettle. “They said we could use this as long as we get it back to them in the morning,” he said. “How’s Vash?”

Meryl stopped to listen. The shower wasn’t running anymore, so she was pretty sure he hadn’t fallen asleep in there. “Okay, I think,” she said. “Probably a lot better now that he’s back in town. What about you?”

“Peachy.” Wolfwood stepped past her to knock on the bathroom door. “Everything good in there?”

Vash cracked the door open. His hair was still damp and sticking almost straight up, and she could guess he hadn’t gotten dressed yet from the way he angled his body away from the door. “Uhm, actually…do you think you could give me a hand with something? I’ve got some spots I can’t reach.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wolfwood passed the food off to Meryl before stepping inside. “Is it bad?”

“No, everything looks good. It’s just salve. Helps with the irritation.” Vash peeked Meryl’s way one more time, gave her a quick wink, then fully shut the door. Someone turned the water back on, obscuring the sounds of their voices down to an unintelligible murmur.

Maybe he was talking to Wolfwood about what had happened last night. The attempts at giving them some privacy were obvious, but for just a moment, Meryl’s mind raced with ways to circumvent them. The floor hadn’t felt too squeaky, so she could probably sneak to the door, and the water would only be able to mask so much…

Wait. What am I doing?

Yes, she wanted answers. Yes, to a degree, she felt like she deserved some after all the lies Wolfwood had told her. But did she deserve to know about this? About the reason he’d looked so scared and vulnerable the night before? About the place atop the mesa that haunted him so badly? Or was she just letting her nosiness turn her into a voyeur of someone’s pain?

Was the cost of truth always worth it?

She remembered the younger Roberto, and the Roberto she would one day watch die. Shame suddenly stabbed through her. Meryl turned away from the door and started focusing on their supplies. She took stock of what they had and what they might need. She forced the muffled sounds of conversation into a background drone.

She reminded herself, over and over, that this was none of her business. That the cost may not be as lethal as it had been with Roberto, but there was no way it was worth it now.

.

Wolfwood knew what was going on the second Vash turned on the sink. The only thing that stopped him from smacking the kid was seeing how beat up he was already. “Is this an intervention or do you actually need my help?” Wolfwood asked.

Vash smiled sheepishly and held out a tin with some kind of ointment inside. “I do need help,” he said, “but…it’s a little bit an intervention.”

Wolfwood rolled his eyes. “Sit down,” he grumbled. Vash did as he was told. He was still clad in only a towel, giving Wolfwood a good look at every scar he’d collected so far. His vision swam when he tried to focus on a few of them, superimposing hazy half-memories from the dimly lit tunnel over scars that were, the longer he looked at them, less severe. A few were nonexistent, making the headache Wolfwood got from the conflicting memories worth it. “I’m guessing I just put it on the ones that aren’t oily?” he said.

“Yeah,” Vash said. “Hey, are you okay?”

Wolfwood ignored the question at first. He focused on applying a thin layer of the salve over a stretch of uneven skin. Burn wound, if he had to guess. He could’ve sworn he saw Plant markings glowing among the bumps and divots, but it was hard to tell. “You don’t have to give me any details, just…is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

Next scar. A long, thin slash, possibly a knife wound. The scar had almost a sheen to it, more silvery than any scar he’d seen before.

“Nico?”

Next one. Bullet wound. Of course there was a bullet wound.

“Nico, do you want to leave?”

Yes, part of him screamed. Yes, yes, get me away from here. I can’t go back. I’ll only make things worse. I can’t have Miss Melanie see what I’ve turned into. Can’t risk that some of the littles are still there, that they’ll know me. I can’t.

And yet, another part of him wanted to drop the tin and run up that path, sneak into the building, curl up in his bed and sleep. Sleep and wake up and see that this was all just a bad dream. He’d still be twelve and safe and everything would be okay. He’d wanted to come back so badly, and here he was. Under the strangest possible circumstances.

Of course.

“I’m fine,” Wolfwood said. He finished applying the ointment over the bullet wound and started on the next one. Some kind of puncture wound around the ribs, didn’t look like a bullet wound, though. Same odd coloring to the scar as the knife wound. Maybe it was a Plant thing. “It’s safest here. We need to sleep. Figure things out in the morning before we run off half-assed.” He carefully examined Vash’s stump. It was a tangle of sensors and scar tissue from the surgery. The Plant marks he remembered from before were still there, though they were dimmer now. “Don’t want to run off on Connor and Sam, either. Wouldn’t be polite.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy. What can I say?” Wolfwood started on another patch of even skin on Vash’s shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about last night, if that’s what this is about. I’m over it.”

He wasn’t over it. He could still taste blood and chemicals. But explaining it to Vash would break him.

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Vash reached over and turned off the sink. “Okay.”

He tended to the last of the scars in silence, trying not to let his thoughts wander off. He caught sight of himself in the mirror as he straightened up. “I think we both need a haircut,” he grumbled. He’d been able to shave on Ship Three, but he’d been scruffy by the time they reached July and all the time traveling hadn’t helped any. “You got scissors?”

“In my bag.” Vash ran his hand over his overgrown undercut, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Do you think you could help with that, too? If I look at least halfway put together when I get back to the ship, everyone will worry a little less.”

“You’ll want Meryl’s help with that. I’m garbage with haircuts.” He’d been scolded for his scruffy appearance more than once, and started caring even less out of spite. The dead men he left in his wake didn’t care one way or another what he looked like. Why should the Eye?

But there was no way he’d be able to bring that up, so the first thing he said when he poked his head out the bathroom door was, “Hey, Stryfe, you up for giving haircuts?”

Meryl looked up from her notebook. She was on the other side of the room with all their supplies spread out on the floor in front of her. She didn’t look like she’d scampered back over to avoid being caught eavesdropping; more like she had been trying to avoid eavesdropping.

He was a little surprised she’d taken the hint. Surprised, and grateful.

“I’ll do what I can,” she said hesitantly. “I mean…if you don’t mind an imperfect cut.”

“Listen, I’m already a lost cause. You can’t make me any worse.”

“It’ll be better than whenever I’ve tried to do it myself,” Vash added. Wolfwood stepped out and shut the door to give him some privacy, muffling but not completely obscuring Vash’s final words: “Thanks, Meryl!”

Meryl smiled sheepishly, even though Vash couldn’t see her. Her voice dropped to a whisper as Wolfwood sat down near her: “Is he okay?”

“Little more beat up than last time, but better than I remember.” And the headache that disconnect caused was getting less and less every time he thought about it, fading along with the old memory. “He’s gonna sleep like the dead, that’s for sure.”

“I think we all are.” Meryl stretched out her arms. “It was nice to get off my feet, but sleeping in the back of a moving truck is not restful.”

Wolfwood grunted in agreement.

Haircuts ended up waiting; everyone came to an unspoken, mutual agreement that eating was more important. Vash rummaged through his bag as Wolfwood started distributing the instant noodles. “I don’t know if this is necessarily the correct pairing,” he said as he pulled a bottle from the bag, “but I did remember.”

The great worm exoskeleton on the front clued Wolfwood in. “Geez, I didn’t think you meant that,” he said. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Of course I did.” Vash grinned brightly as he set the bottle down in the middle of them. “I went back for two bottles. The other one’s for when Brad and Luida wake up.”

“That’s one way to welcome them back.” They didn’t have whiskey glasses, so they had to settle for beat up old coffee mugs. Again, not that Wolfwood was complaining. He did notice Meryl only took a little, and poured him and Vash some extra to make up for that. “Cheers.”

Meryl nodded as she held up her mug. “To safety,” she said.

“To old friends,” Vash added as he held up his.

To coming home, whispered a traitorous voice in the back of Wolfwood’s head. He shook it off as he raised his mug. “To an actual bed and eight hours of sleep,” he said.

Hopefully, the alcohol would knock him out enough to let him enjoy that sleep.

They ate, they drank. Vash barely made it through one serving of whiskey and his noodles before he started nodding off. It was a miracle he made it to bed on his own power. Meryl went to bed not long after. Wolfwood poured himself a bit more and sat at the window, staring out over town. He drank slowly.

He tried not to think too hard about what lay above him.

.

Meryl slept straight through the night. It looked like Vash did, too, from how cheery he was the next morning. Wolfwood…it was hard to say. He was still closed off and cagey, but that might have been a carryover from the day before. He went to help the Moores unload their truck without any real complaint, but that didn’t make Meryl feel much better.

“After this, we get restocked and figure out our next moves, yeah?” Wolfwood said as he grabbed one of the feed bags. “Don’t know what you need to get your doohickeys fixed, but they might have it around.”

“They’re thingamabobs, actually,” Vash said with a cheerful smile, “but yeah, sounds good to me.”

Wolfwood rolled his eyes and started hauling the bag inside. The smile dropped off Vash’s face and he leaned closer to Meryl. “Keep an eye on him, okay? I’m worried about him.”

Meryl nodded. Even if Wolfwood hadn’t had another nightmare, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still feeling the effects of being back in Hopeland. She remembered how rough seeing Roberto had been; it must have been the same kind of feeling for Wolfwood.

We’ll figure it out, she thought. As long as we stay together, we can figure it out.

She started picking up one of the smaller boxes. It wasn’t heavy, but it was a bit cumbersome, and it started to slip from her grasp. “Shit!”

Something caught one corner, stopping the box just in time. When Meryl looked down, she saw a boy, maybe ten or so, just barely holding up the corner. “Oh!” Meryl adjusted her grip on the box, taking the weight off the kid. “Thank you!”

The child smiled shyly in response. He had a mop of white hair and big, golden hazel eyes. Something about him looked familiar, but Meryl couldn’t put her finger on it until…

“Oi! Livio!”

The boy made a soft eep noise and ran off. That name…Meryl knew that name. Right?

She turned around in time to see Vash and Wolfwood peering out from the doorway. Vash looked confused.

Wolfwood looked ready to throw up.

“Uhm, why are we hiding?” Vash whispered.

Wolfwood didn’t reply. He kept staring in the direction the kid had gone. When he finally moved, it was to go back into the store. Vash followed; so did Meryl. She set the box down as quickly as possible so she could join the boys in peering through the door into the main part of the store. Inside, the Moores were negotiating payment with the shop owner, a woman with dark brown hair consulted a shopping list, and a handful of kids surveyed the shop’s offerings.

“Nico!” called a young girl’s voice. “Nico, I can’t reach!”

One of the children turned around. If the name didn’t identify him, seeing his face did it. That was Wolfwood, all right. He may have been younger, but there was no mistaking that face. “Hang on,” he said. He walked over to one of the kids, a little blond girl, and crouched down to let her on his shoulders. “Remember, we just need one.”

“Got it.” The girl plucked a can off the shelf before being lowered back down again. “Miss Melanie! Miss Melanie!”

The younger Wolfwood shook his head with the quiet bemusement of someone much older before following. The white-haired boy from before—Livio—rounded a corner and immediately fell in step next to Wolfwood, grabbing tightly onto his arm.

Wolfwood and Livio. One of them dead in the future by his own hand. The other…

Meryl glanced towards the boys. Vash was still there, watching the scene outside with a kind of quiet, delighted awe. But Wolfwood was nowhere to be seen, and the back door of the storeroom was wide open.

“Vash!” Meryl hissed.

Vash looked at her, then at the door when she pointed to it, then at the empty space where Wolfwood should’ve been. Immediately, he ran for the door, Meryl close behind. She didn’t stay close for long. She wasn’t a weakling by any stretch, but she was only as athletic as her job demanded. Meanwhile, Vash had over 100 years of daily morning pushups on his side, and Wolfwood had been experimented on. She could be a star athlete and they’d still be faster than her. Fortunately, Vash noticed her lagging behind before she lost him entirely. “Are you okay?” he called.

Not really. She had to stop to gasp for air. “You go after him!” she called. “I think…I may know where he’s going…if we split up, one of us will get him.” She pointed to the main road up to the top of the mesa. “I’ll go that way!”

“Okay!” Vash took off, trailing his red coat behind him like the tail of a shooting star. Meryl stopped to catch her breath before turning around and heading up the main road.

She hoped splitting up was a good call.

She hoped whatever was happening here, they could handle it.

.

He remembered the weight of the other kid on his shoulders like it was yesterday.

He remembered Livio hovering close to him, nervous at being out in town but excited, too. They didn’t get to get out too often.

He remembered.

He wished he didn’t.

What he didn’t remember was how he’d ended up here. It was like he’d seen that mop of pale hair and been teleported somewhere else, out of the back room of the general store and to a building with a half-collapsed roof and dirt floors. The ache in his legs said he’d run, but he didn’t remember doing that at all.

He knew the place, at least. That was something.

If anything bad ever happens and we have to run, we’ll meet here. It was a promise he’d made Livio when they were little. The kid had developed a weird, weeks-long burst of fear that the orphanage would be raided by some outlaw group. It wasn’t the most overblown fear in the world, Wolfwood had to admit. It never hurt to have a contingency plan, and the abandoned houses along the side of the mesa had been theirs. Whoever had planned to live here never moved in; now the only people that came to this carved-out neighborhood were the worms and the kids who sometimes wandered down there to play.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d taken that plan seriously—how much he’d come to consider those ruined buildings safe. But here he was, huddled up in one like a frightened child, fingers digging into the shin on his bruise, trying to breathe through waves of panic.

“Nico?” called a voice. It wasn’t one of the littles…well, he wasn’t a little anymore, Wolfwood guessed. “Nico, where are you?”

Vash. Vash had followed him. Probably Meryl, too. Wolfwood pulled his legs closer to himself, instinctively trying to make himself smaller.

It didn’t do him any good. He heard footsteps getting closer, the creak of a door opening. Had he left footprints? Rookie move, he knew better. He could hear Vash’s footsteps slow, then stop just outside the room Wolfwood was in. “Can I come in?” Vash called.

No. Go away. He couldn’t let Vash see him like this. Wolfwood wiped at his face—when had he started crying?—but only succeeded in getting himself dirty. A memory of Miss Melanie scrubbing at his face with a damp washcloth flashed through his mind. He felt sick all over again.

“I’m right outside the door, okay?” Vash said. Wolfwood could hear him settling down. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

He’d be waiting a long time, then. Wolfwood couldn’t move. Even if he wanted to, he was stuck. Moving meant going back outside, facing reality, facing the fact that he remembered that day, that morning, he remembered because…

Because…

“Where’s Meryl?” Wolfwood managed to mumble. He hadn’t heard her yet. He was a little surprised she wasn’t bursting her way in right now.

“She went up to the orphanage, I think. She thought you might go that way.”

The words hit him like a punch to the face. Meryl was up there. Meryl might see…Wolfwood forced himself to his feet, so suddenly that he felt dizzy. He stood there for a moment, head nearly hitting the roof, swaying in place. Trying to breathe. Vash peered inside the room, his face immediately turning worried.

“Nico?”

I can’t let her see that. I can’t let them…

His feet carried him forward, one step in front of another. He walked right past Vash and out the door. Vash scrambled to his feet and followed. “Hey, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I wanna go,” Wolfwood mumbled. He sounded like a damn child, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t have them be there, either. “I wanna go.”

“Okay. Okay, we’ll grab Meryl and we’ll go.” Vash hovered at his side. “Uhm, the way up is that way…”

A way up was that way. Wolfwood knew this place like the back of his hand, though, and he knew a faster way up. He kept moving, one foot after another, along winding paths he hadn’t taken since he was small. One hand traced the red-brown stone of the mesa as he went. Stone he’d touched once, long ago.

Long ago for him. Recently for the little boy ahead of him.

Vash followed in silence. With each step, Wolfwood prayed that he was wrong, that he was misremembering, that when they reached the top they wouldn’t see what he thought they’d see. That he wouldn’t have to relive the day everything changed for him.

They reached the top of the path. As they did, Wolfwood heard the sound of a truck approaching. A sound he remembered, deep down in his bones.

Again, moving on instinct, he stepped back, grabbing Vash and dragging him with him. He held completely still until the truck sounds stopped. He could make out distant voices, just barely. “What is that?” Vash whispered. “Is Meryl in trouble?”

Wolfwood couldn’t even think about Meryl. All he could do was remember.

Instinct guided him again. He followed the path up, but stuck to the sides of the wreckage that housed the orphanage. There were ways up if you were stupid or brave enough to take them; Wolfwood wasn’t sure which one he was then, but the handholds were a lot easier to traverse now that he was older. He was on the roof before he knew it. Vash joined him, one hand on his gun.

Not that it would do him any good.

The scene in the courtyard below was exactly what he’d expected to see. The truck. The men in suits and masks. Littles watched from the windows, from the shadows of the thomas pens. No sign of him, but he’d probably been ushered inside to gather up the few possessions he’d been allowed to bring. If he searched, perhaps he’d see…

Yes. There it was. Two figures in a window. Dark hair and light hair. Too far away to hear, but he remembered how the conversation had gone.

“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m the Child of Blessing. I have to.”

“Nico, please…”

“Livio, listen.” He’d pressed a wooden box against Livio’s chest and looked him in his tear-stained, golden eyes. “Hold onto this for me until I get back, okay? Keep it safe.”

The wooden box with a few papers in it—pictures and odds and ends and a string of beads that was all he’d had left of his parents. He hadn’t opened it in years, not since Miss Melanie helped him tape one of the pictures back together and carefully placed it in the box, but he’d guarded it against curious eyes all that time. It was the only thing of value he really had. He couldn’t bring it with him. He knew, even then, that he’d never see it again if he did.

“This is really important. I’m counting on you.”

He’d meant it as a promise, but it was a promise he’d ended up breaking. He’d never come back for that box. And Livio…

“And look after the others for me, okay? You’re one of the big kids now. You have to be brave.”

Livio hadn’t felt like one of the big kids when he’d clung to him. One last hug in private before he’d hidden under the covers, clutching the box to his chest. Nico had stopped to pull them aside, to smile at him reassuringly, and then he’d walked away. Down the stairs. Out back into the courtyard, where the other kids had watched him leave. Miss Melanie hadn’t been crying, but he knew she would soon. He knew…

Wolfwood heard a sharp intake of breath as his smaller self was led to the truck. The sound of Vash putting two and two together.

The sound of Vash about to do something really stupid.

“No - !”

All Vash did was move into a crouch, but Wolfwood panicked. He tackled him back to the ground, trying to drag him away from the edge of the roof, out of sight, far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to stop them. Vash struggled against the grip, eyes confused. “What are you…?!”

“Don’t!” Wolfwood hissed. Vash managed to break away from the grip; Wolfwood grabbed him again, this time holding him tightly. “Don’t, don’t you dare, don’t!”

(Something flashed through his mind, a detail he hadn’t remembered until just then. A new detail. Behind the sounds of the kids saying goodbye, he’d heard something. A scuffle, like a fight, somewhere nearby but out of sight. For just a second, he’d wondered what it was, prayed that it was some kind of distraction, something that would take the masked men’s eyes off of him long enough that he could turn and run and run and run…)

“It has to be me!”

(…but that didn’t happen. There was no saving him from this.)

“It has to be me…it has to be me…” He held Vash tightly. He wasn’t sure if the heartbeat hammering at his ribs was his or Vash’s, but he didn’t let go. “It has to be me, it has to be me, I want it to be me…”

Vash stopped struggling. His breathing came in quick bursts, horrified bursts, as those words sunk in. Wolfwood still didn’t let him go. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, please, please…”

Just let it be me. No one else. Just let them leave.

He heard the truck start up and drive away, taking Nico with them. The sound grew more and more distant before fading away entirely. It was quiet.

Nico was gone.

He’d be dead in a few days.

Wolfwood felt his body go weak, boneless. He slumped to the roof, trembling. Vash pulled away. Wolfwood half-expected him to go running after the truck, but he didn’t. He just stared at Wolfwood with confused eyes, terrified eyes. Wolfwood looked away from him in time to see another set of eyes staring at him, just as confused and afraid.

Meryl. When had she gotten here? How much had she seen?

“…Nico…”

Wolfwood flinched away from Vash’s touch. He got up and headed to the edge of the wreckage without a word. His hands shook so badly, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to climb back down. But he had to try.

He had to get away from this place before things got worse.

.

She did her best to stay out of sight on her way up. Meryl had to duck to cover once as a truck drove up the road—probably the one carrying the kids, from the glimpse Meryl caught of it—and immediately hid among the ship ruins when she reached the top. It gave her the chance to catch her breath. Even at a slowed-down pace, it had been a tough trek up to the top.

All of that just to not see any sign of them. Was I wrong? Maybe Wolfwood had gone somewhere else. He knew this town better than she did. Maybe he’d gone somewhere else to hide. She wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking.

I should stay put anyway. Vash knew she’d come here, and Meryl was sure he’d come for her eventually. She would just stay put, and no matter what happened, she absolutely would not snoop.

The rumbling of another approaching truck made her duck deeper behind cover. She risked peeking out as the sound grew closer. This truck was bigger than the one she’d dodged on the road, better-maintained…and it had the mark of the Eye of Michael on its side.

Meryl ducked back down, her heart racing. What were they doing here? Pieces fell together as her mind raced through the possibilities. The kind of people Conrad said they worked with. The fact that Wolfwood was one of his creations. Wolfwood’s reaction to seeing the kids. Maybe it hadn’t been the sight of his younger self, but the memory of what his younger self had been doing that day.

Or something that would happen that day.

Her resolution not to snoop flew out the window. Meryl moved as quickly as she could without being seen, darting from the corner she’d wedged herself in and to the now-closed gate that separated her and the orphanage. She could just barely hear over the wall.

“Congratulations, child of blessing.”

The sentence—muffled by what Meryl could only assume was a gas mask—was followed by applause. It didn’t last long, and the silence that followed it was oppressive as a heat wave. The voice that broke it was quiet, dull.

“Can I bring my stuff?”

That was Wolfwood, the younger Wolfwood. Meryl suddenly understood why he’d run from the store, charging off as if he were being chased by something.

Today is the day they take him.

There had to be something she could do. Meryl ran to the truck and pulled at the door handles. All of them were locked. She wasn’t sure why she’d bothered; she’d only be able to move the truck if the keys were still in the ignition, and what was the plan even if she got it moving? Just start driving and hope they gave up when they couldn’t catch her?

Think, Meryl!

She’d have an easier time planning if she could see what was going on. She’d noticed worn spots along the side of the wreck; a second look confirmed they formed a path up to the top. Handholds and footholds formed over a long period of time, and by children if she had to guess. All of them were within easy reach for her.

I can do this. I have to do this.

Despite how much her legs ached, she started climbing.

By the time she reached the top, her hands hurt and her legs felt like they were going to fall off. Her descent onto the orphanage’s roof was a barely controlled flop, but she’d made it. Meryl dragged herself to the edge of the roof and carefully peered over. A crowd of kids had gathered on the front steps of the orphanage, all waving goodbye to a lone figure walking across the courtyard. Wolfwood looked so small, so fragile. It made her heart ache.

I have to do something, fast.

The sound of a scuffle caught her attention. She thought it was falling debris at first, but when she turned to look, she saw a tangle of limbs and a distinctive red coat. Vash! He’d know what to do.

When she reached him, it quickly became clear that something was wrong. Wolfwood had Vash in a tight grapple, and while Vash wasn’t fighting it, he did look confused, even a little afraid. Wolfwood, meanwhile, looked frantic in a way Meryl couldn’t remember seeing before. The closest she could remember was the look in his eyes when they’d been trying to stop the sand steamer, but this was more emotionally raw.

“It has to be me,” he said. The words sounded like they were being ripped out of him. “I want it to be me!”

Meryl froze.

Tears streaked Wolfwood’s face, a face that was already smudged with dust and mud. Meryl felt guilty seeing him, like she was looking at something she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. “Please,” Wolfwood whispered. He shut his eyes tightly. Meryl couldn’t tell anymore if he was holding on to Vash to keep him from getting up or out of a desperate need to hold on to something. “Please, please, please…”

He kept whispering it until the sound of the truck faded into nothingness. It was only then that he let Vash go, his body slumping to the roof. Meryl wanted to run to his side, to see if there was anything she could do, but she couldn’t make herself move. Even Vash looked lost. If he didn’t know, how could she even begin to figure it out?

There was a dull look in Wolfwood’s eyes when he finally lifted his head. It was almost the same dullness she’d seen in Vash’s eyes when they’d found him out in the desert, but more hopeless. Wolfwood got up stiffly and started walking away. Vash stared after him before staring in the direction the truck had gone. Meryl stumbled to his side, just managing to make it before her legs finally gave out. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Where are they taking him?” Vash whispered back. His eyes met hers, his gaze desperate and helpless. “Meryl, what are they doing with him?”

Meryl thought about the blood-stained table, the way the chemical vials smelled. About how agitated Wolfwood was after going back to July, how he’d encouraged everyone to walk away when Roberto asked about the Eye of Michael.

About the Wolfwood who would eventually betray Vash, and the one who had seemingly been fighting to save him ever since.

“…we should go,” Meryl said finally. She tried to stand, but her legs quickly buckled. Vash had to help her back up. “I don’t want him to get too far ahead.”

Vash nodded in agreement.

He helped her down off the roof, and even offered to carry her when they reached the bottom. Meryl took him up on the offer; she probably could’ve made it, but her legs did hurt, and she didn’t want to risk tripping and falling. Besides, she needed to think without the distraction of navigating down the trails.

Wolfwood hadn’t gone very fast, and they could see him slumping his way down the trail. Vash didn’t get too close, which was probably for the best. It was clear even from behind how closed-off his body language was, and he smoked the entire time. They probably could’ve followed him down the trail by the smoke alone.

What can I say to him? It was hard to grasp a situation so unusual, so unfair. The closest she could think of was seeing the younger Roberto again. What would I have wanted him to say to me that night?

It was a tough question to answer when she’d spent that crying session half-hoping she wouldn’t be heard. She didn’t really have an answer by the time they arrived back in town. She just knew she had to try.

“Hey, Vash?” Meryl whispered. “Why don’t you go get the things you need to fix your equipment? I’ll try talking to him.” She felt Vash’s shoulders go tense. “I know you probably don’t want to leave him, but he might open up to me a bit more. I’ll find you if anything goes wrong, I promise.”

“…okay,” Vash said hesitantly.

“It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you, he just…”

“Doesn’t want to burden me?” There was a slightly frantic laugh to Vash’s voice. “He’d yell at me for doing the same thing.”

“Yeah, he’s annoying like that.” And hopefully he didn’t hear that. “Keep an eye out, okay? I don’t want anyone to try and grab you again.”

“I’ll keep my head down.” They stopped in front of the hotel, and Vash carefully let her down. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I’ll definitely need it.

She made her way clumsily up the stairs and to their room. Wolfwood, thankfully, was still there, parked by the window with a new cigarette in his mouth. He’d stripped off the new coat Vash had given him and put back on his old one. Meryl found herself staring at the stiches along the shoulders, along the place where his gun would rest. Reinforcement to keep it from tearing, probably. He’d need it with how heavy it was.

“…I’m sorry you had to see that,” Meryl said. It was the only thing she could think to say; she wasn’t surprised that Wolfwood didn’t respond to it. His gaze stayed fixed outside. “Vash has gone for now, if there’s anything you want to talk about.”

Wolfwood huffed harshly, bitterly. “What’s there to talk about?” he said. “You saw what happened.”

“True. But I don’t really have all the details.” Meryl risked pulling another chair over to sit next to him at the window. Wolfwood glanced her way briefly before pointedly fixing his gaze back out the window. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, Wolfwood, but I want to. I want to understand. Extenuating circumstances and all.”

She really expected him to tell her to fuck off–he’d be within his rights to, all things considered. But instead…

“The chemicals rebuild your body on a cellular level,” Wolfwood said, “if you’re lucky. If you’re unlucky, they kill you. I tested highly compatible, S+, so…they took me away.” Wolfwood drew one leg up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee as he did. “I don’t remember a lot of the early days clearly. Lot of injections. Surgeries. Accelerated puberty was fun, but at least I got it over with.”

“Accelerated…how old were you?”

“Twelve.” He said it as casually as if he were telling her his eyes were brown. “Hit full physical maturity in record time. Under a year, I think. Sucks being exceptional.”

The mental image of Wolfwood, still a child in the body of a chained-up adult, made her feel sick. A second realization didn’t help. “How old are you now?”

He laughed bitterly. “Relax. I’m twenty-two. I think. Could be twenty-three by now.”

But I’m twenty-three. It wasn’t that he didn’t look it (she’d guessed he was older than her, but not by much). She just couldn’t comprehend going through everything he’d been through in the same amount of time. She’d just started getting interested in journalism when she was around that age. She interviewed her neighbors and took blurry photographs of stray dogs that were a public health threat. She was a late bloomer compared to her friends; in hindsight, avoiding the discomfort, the stares, the alien feeling of her body changing without her asking it to for a few more years was a blessing. She couldn’t imagine having that forced on her, compressed into a short year alongside whatever else they’d done to him. Did he even recognize himself in the mirror anymore?

Wolfwood either ignored or didn’t notice her stricken stare. “Anyway, I tried to escape eventually, but they caught me. Told me I could join the Eye of Michael or…” His voice caught on those words, but he pressed on, reaching into his pockets to hand something to her. It was a piece of wrinkled paper that had been folded into a tight square. “Here”

Meryl opened it carefully. The large symbol with a red smear in the center caught her attention first. “Is that blood?”

“It’s mine, don’t worry about it.”

That made her worry a lot more, but she decided to look past it and read the actual text. “Pastor’s Contract,” she read aloud. “The Eye of Michael and Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Pastor of St. Michael’s Church…pastor?”

“Just on paper. Keep reading.”

“...faithfully perform all duties as commanded in the Eye if Michael….receive immortal glory from the Priest William through the Suffering of the Holy Angels…” One section caught her attention: a hand-written caveat in the bottom corner. “If the work is approved, the Hopeland Orphanage and the surrounding areas will be excluded from the pilgrimage site.”

It has to be me. I want it to be me.

“They threatened to take another kid?” she asked quietly.

Wolfwood nodded. He gripped his shin tightly as he spoke: “I was one of the oldest kids there. They were my responsibility. I could handle it, so I’ve handled it. Did their dirty work, whatever they wanted, as long as it kept them away from the kids. And that included making sure Vash the Stampede made it to July City. Knives wanted him there without him getting sidetracked. It was him or the kids.” His fingers dug into his shin more tightly. “I made a choice and I chose them.”

She’d kicked him in that shin. Right where he was pushing against it, hard enough to keep it bruised.

“...Wolfwood…”

“You know what’s really messing with me?” He interrupted. He’d been calm up until that point, or at least matter of fact. Now, his voice was breaking again. “All that shit he said on the road…how he could see it in my eyes that I’m not…” He pushed harder. “...all that bullshit. I can’t stop thinking that it’s because of all this. That I tricked him into thinking I’m a good person and now he’s going to follow me into hell without question. Can’t even do my fucking penance right.”

“Is that what you think this is? Penance?”

“What else could it be? After what I did? And don’t give me the you had no choice bullshit. Doesn’t matter why. I’m a backstabbing piece of shit no matter how you slice it.” He hissed suddenly, his hand jerking away from the injury. “Damn it…”

Meryl caught his hand. She was worried he’d start poking at it again if she didn’t. “It’s not that simple.”

“Really? Because you didn’t seem to think so when you decked me.” Wolfwood took a deep breath and deflated almost immediately. “That wasn’t fair.”

“No, no, you’re right. I was harsh on you. And I do agree, what you did was awful. But that doesn’t mean…” Why was this so hard? She was a journalist. She knew how to put together a sentence…or she thought she did. “People aren’t caricatures like that. Some people are more bad than good, but I don’t think you’re one of them. You’re…”

She struggled to think of the right words. She was suddenly very aware of Wolfwood’s hand in hers. He had calluses from carrying around that cross, rough skin, cigarette stains on the tips. Frayed cuticles, picked down almost to the point of bleeding.

“I know you think Vash is too trusting,” she said finally, “and you’re probably right. So take it from me when I say that you have been…really good with him. Kind. I don’t think a bad person could be that kind.”

“...even out of guilt?”

“Especially out of guilt. They don’t feel that at all.” She squeezed his hand gently. “And even if you made the wrong choice, you were in an impossible situation and made the decision out of love. Not anger or hate. That matters, Wolfwood. They didn’t make a monster out of you. I promise.”

Wolfwood wouldn’t look her way. He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t pull his hand away, either. In fact, his fingers started to loosely curl around hers, like he wanted to hold her hand but wasn’t sure how to anymore. What she could see of his eyes looked hesitant, reserved, young. Like the little boy he’d maybe never stopped being.

“You’re not alone anymore, either,” Meryl added. “Let us help. Let me help, at least, if you don’t want to put it on Vash. I’m stronger than I look.”

“…you think I don’t know that?” Wolfwood actually smiled. His hand finally fully gripped hers. “You’ve hit me two times.”

“Three times, if you include the truck.”

The first giggles to escape Wolfwood were like the first pebbles of an avalanche. Next thing Meryl knew, he was hunched over, either laughing or crying, she couldn’t tell which, gripping her hand so tightly it ached. She let him hold onto her, used her free hand to rub his shoulder. His jacket may have been too big for him, but she could still almost feel his shoulders straining at the seams, trying to break free of the uniform they’d forced on him. The fabric was rough and frayed on the shoulder where his gun most commonly rested.

She wished she could wipe it smooth.

“Sorry,” Wolfwood said suddenly. He sat up and pulled away from her, rubbing his eyes fiercely. “I’m sorry for what happened with the worm. They thought you two would slow him down. I was supposed to leave you, but Vash wouldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”

Oh. Meryl honestly hadn’t expected an apology for that. “I forgive you,” she said. “Only because you did cut it in half for us in the end.”

“And I’m sorry about what happened to Roberto.”

Meryl almost flinched at the words. “That…wasn’t your fault,” she said. She really believed that. Zazie had been the one to want them in July, and anyway if Meryl hadn’t…

“And it was more Elendira’s fault than it was yours,” Wolfwood said quietly. “You didn’t know it would go down that way. And he was a grown man. You didn’t drag him into anything.” He pulled something else out of his pocket. The cigarette box was flattened out and a bit beaten up, but she recognized it as one of Roberto’s. “Don’t blame yourself for it too much. Extenuating circumstances, yeah?”

Meryl took the box with suddenly shaking hands. The design grew blurry the longer she stared at it. A tear landed on the worm logo’s wing. “Sorry I didn’t say that last time,” Wolfwood added.

A sob escaped her lips. She held the box close to her chest. “You asshole,” she said through tears. “This is supposed to be about you.”

“Hey, only one of us is in a job that does absolution,” Wolfwood pointed out. “I mean…technically. They’re not very big on absolution, but I can give it a shot.” He tousled her hair. “Don’t cry too hard. Vash is gonna wonder what happened.”

He had a point. Meryl took a deep breath and wiped the tears away. “Speaking of, what are you going to tell him?” she said. “He’ll want to know something. He’s been worried about you since you had that nightmare. I’m surprised I was able to convince him to give you some space.”

Wolfwood’s mouth opened, then closed again. He stared out the window with a tight jaw. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t…want him thinking this is something he can fix. Even if I did want him to, trying would just put him back in Knives’ sight. It’s better if he doesn’t go digging.”

He had a point. The problem was, between the fungus heist in July and what happened today, a lot of cats had been let out of the bag. They couldn’t be put back, and Vash wasn’t the kind of person to just let them run off without comment. Or without connecting a few dots. “He’ll respect your choice if you let him know that much, at least,” Meryl said. “You’ll just have to figure out how much to tell him.”

“Yeah.” Wolfwood sighed heavily. “Yeah. I’ll…think of something.” He stopped to rub his eyes. “I’ll figure it out.”

They were silent after that. It felt like everything they needed to be said had to, and the exhausted look on Wolfwood’s eyes said he didn’t have it in him to say more. He didn’t light another cigarette, at least; just stared at the remnants of his last one, watching the smoke drift lazily out of the cracked window. Meryl got up long enough to get her notebook, and carefully tucked the empty cigarette box between the pages.

I wonder what he’d think of all this. What he’d would do if he was left alone with a younger Vash. Roberto would find a way to help him, Meryl was sure. He’d probably have done a better job of getting Vash to be selfish than she and Wolfwood would.

How would he have felt about seeing his past self?

Meryl shivered. “Just to be clear,” she said, “I don’t have anything serious in my history, but…we’re staying away from December if we can.”

Wolfwood barked with laughter. “Yeah, this would be a shitshow even if we hadn’t showed up today. Just lucky none of them saw me.” He straightened up slightly, the smile falling off his face. “Vash is coming.”

Sure enough, when Meryl looked out the window, she could see the bright red of Vash’s jacket as he walked towards the hotel. Even from this distance, she could see the worried frown on his face. She braced herself for him to start asking questions the second he entered the room, but he didn’t. He looked between the two of them nervously before settling on Wolfwood. “Is…everything good?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’m okay,” Wolfwood said. He still looked tired, so Meryl wasn’t sure if Vash bought it. But he did at least look better than he had on the roof. “Just…bad memories there. We can talk about it if…”

Vash shook his head. “Not now. It’s okay. You shouldn’t overdo it.” He smiled reassuringly as he set down his bag and started rummaging through it. “I should be able to fix my gear…enough. At the very least, now that I’m here, I can hitch a ride somewhere and see if any of the away teams are out.”

“That’s good.” Meryl glanced Wolfwood’s way. He’d sunk back into his chair and started chewing on his cuticles. He looked deep in thought; it was hard to tell if he was relieved by the reprieve, or still too raw to feel one way or another. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“You can pass me the thingamabobs if that’s okay.” Vash produced a carefully wrapped sandwich from one of the bags and offered it to Wolfwood. “Here.”

It took Wolfwood a second to respond to the offered sandwich. Meryl thought for a moment that he wouldn’t take it, but seeing food right in front of him seemed to wake up something in him. Wolfwood took the sandwich and started eating. Bite by bite, slow and steady, but he was eating.

It was a strange relief to see.

.

Meryl was nuts in the exact same way Vash was. Of course she’d say what she had. Of course she’d grant him any kind of forgiveness. Wolfwood tried to remind himself of that, he really did.

But he couldn’t get what she’d said out of his head.

That matters, Wolfwood. I promise it does.

Because she may have been a lot like Vash, shared a lot of his beliefs, but she’d also struck him as more…grounded, for lack of a better word. She wasn’t over a century old, standing above humanity, strong and unaging, strange even when he was a fragile and gangly child. She was just a person. She bled same as Wolfwood once did, and even if she was brash, she had to put a few more half-seconds of thought into her decisions than Vash did. Not doing so would definitely kill her.

And yet, she’d chosen to listen to him. To forgive him. To look at him and see something other than a blood-soaked monster.

He couldn’t fully chalk that up to her being like Vash. Much as he tried to, much as he wanted to, his mind clung to the memory of her hand holding his and refused to let it go. Refused to see it as anything other than proof that maybe those two were right about him. Maybe…

Wolfwood glanced at the other two again. Vash was sitting on the floor, carefully fiddling with one of his pieces of lost tech, only occasionally breaking the silence by asking Meryl to pass him something. Meryl watched what he was doing intently. She’d probably memorized how to fix the damn thing and would have it logged in shorthand in her notebook before the night was out. Something about the scene was so mundane that it made his chest ache.

They’d had a lot of moments like that on the road to July. Moments where, despite their various quirks, they were indistinguishable from any other set of travelers. Wolfwood had almost managed to forget himself those times, forget why he was there and what he was going to do to Vash. He wished he could sink into that normalcy now. It felt like the circle was open to him. But he couldn’t quite make himself join, and not just because of his reservations about whether or not he deserved it. He wasn’t able to make himself move away from the window at all. It felt like he was on a watch he was too afraid to break, listening for the sound of heavy trucks heading up to the orphanage again.

There’s no way they came for him so soon. He hadn’t aged that much by the time you saw him and you’d been in there for…months, right? Shit, he wasn’t sure. It had felt like an eternity for him. Couldn’t have been longer than a year, if the comments he half-remembered about his progress were any indication.

He has time.

But knowing that didn’t make him feel any better. Instead of being relieved by the reprieve, Wolfwood just felt like he was watching Livio walk down the long road to the gallows. Knowing there was an execution coming for him at the end of that year…

It’s not too late for him.

But what could Wolfwood do?

“Did you still want a haircut?” Meryl asked suddenly.

It took Wolfwood a second to realize she was talking to him. “Uh, yeah. Sure. If you’re up for it.” He forced himself to stretch. He’d been sitting in that chair a bit too long; his back ached like a bitch. “How’s your, uh, your thing?”

“The communicator’s turning on, but I can’t tell if I’m getting a signal. I might have to go up to the roof and try.” Vash carefully turned it over in his hands. “I might just have to get a new one when I go back. It might just be too old. The sand wears everything down eventually.” He attached an earpiece to the device and stood up carefully. “I’m going to try and make that call. You can get the haircut first, Nico.”

They ended up trading places, Wolfwood moving to sit next to Meryl while Vash sat in the chair by the window. He pushed the window open and leaned out of it as he fiddled with the device. “Don’t worry,” Meryl said as she picked up the scissors. “I’m better with these than I am with my steering.”

The comment startled a laugh out of Wolfwood. “Hey, you brought it up, not me.” He scratched his scalp briefly. “Don’t worry about how I look. I’ll be fine as long as I can see.”

Meryl nodded, glanced Vash’s way in concern one more time, and started on Wolfwood’s hair. Vash kept fiddling with the thing, an intense frown on his face, occasionally letting out a questioning, “Hello?” Wolfwood started picking at his cuticles as he watched him.

C’mon, let it go through, he’s been through enough, there has to be something You can do…

“I used to cut my own hair in college,” Meryl said suddenly. She sounded nervous, like she was chatting to fill the silence. “And my mom cut my hair before that. I think I got my first professional haircut when I got the Bernadelli job.”

“Your mom probably did a better job than half the places I went to,” Wolfwood said. “They just let anyone hold a pair of scissors out there.” He watched as bits of his hair fell down onto the floor.  “You need yours done?”

“At this point, I may as well just let it grow out. It’s not like I have to look professional anymore.”

Yeah, and aren’t you technically wanted by July MP back in the future? He was pretty sure he’d heard the phrase “person of interest” get thrown around more than once. It made convincing them to hide from people in authority easy, but it was probably going to bite her in the ass when she got back. Wolfwood winced at the thought. Maybe we should all just grow our hair out. Hide from the law and all…

“Hello? Yeah…” Vash leaned further out the window, making it hard to see his face. It was easy to catch the note of excitement as he kept speaking. “Can you hear me? Can…Mark, hi!” Vash laughed, bright and relieved. The sound made Wolfwood’s shoulders untense; from the way Meryl sighed, that same burden was gone from her, too. “Yeah, it’s…it’s a long story, I don’t know if this thing is going to work long enough…I’m safe, I am, I promise, I’m in this town near the Sand Sea. Hopeland? Do we have anyone near here?”

Wolfwood couldn’t hear the reply, but Vash didn’t seem to mind whatever answer he was given. He even kept chatting despite his comment about the device dying on him, asking how everyone was doing, if he’d missed anything important. News about Ship Three seemed just as important to him as water and shelter. Not knowing must have been driving him as crazy as everything else.

Wolfwood knew a thing or two about that feeling.

A sense of relief settled over Wolfwood as Vash kept talking. Relief that they’d been able to get him to safety. Relief that, from the sound of things, someone was coming for him. Wolfwood still wasn’t 100% sure he trusted everyone on Ship Three, not after what had happened, but…

It was something. Something even more than Vash had before. That was good.

Vash moved away from the window and sat down in front of Wolfwood with a solid oomph. “Someone should be here by tomorrow,” he said with a bright smile. “I’ll be able to sort things out from there.”

“That’s good!” Meryl paused in cutting Wolfwood’s hair; it was easy to hear the smile in her voice. “You’re lucky someone was close by.”

Vash nodded, his smile growing soft as he looked at them. “I’m lucky in a lot of ways.”

Wolfwood braced himself for the questions Vash was sure to have. They didn’t come; instead, Vash held out his hands. Wolfwood took them hesitantly. Vash’s hands were both surprisingly cool. For the first time, Wolfwood noticed a slight pitted texture to the palms of his prosthetics, almost like callouses. He wondered if that was from natural wear and tear, or if it was something they’d added to help with his grip.

They would’ve had to care a lot to do that.

Vash kept holding his hands, even when Meryl finished Wolfwood’s hair and moved on to his. He chatted on about goings-on at Ship Three, people he was looking forward to seeing again, and he didn’t let go of Wolfwood’s hands for a second. He kept him in that circle of warmth.

Wolfwood let him, because he knew it wouldn’t last one way or another. He played along for the rest of the evening, told himself it was for Vash’s benefit even though he knew that was a lie. He tried to keep the thoughts of Livio out of his mind.

They came rushing back as the night settled in with no sign of a portal. It would be coming tomorrow, if Wolfwood had to guess, around the time Vash’s ride showed up. That meant Wolfwood had until the next day to…what? What he could he possibly do without risking making things worse? Some things had changed for Vash, but they hadn’t stopped anything big, far as he could tell. Vash was still down half an arm, still had a shithead of a brother running around, and whenever Wolfwood thought about it, his memories of July hadn’t changed all that much. If he hadn’t been able to fix any of that…

“Nico?”

Wolfwood rolled over on his bed. Vash was staring at him intensely. “Meryl’s asleep,” he said quietly. “Do you…do you mind if we talk?”

Good question.

Wolfwood’s gaze drifted to Vash’s shoulder, to one of the scars there. He thought about his other scars, and how many of them had come from him fighting like hell for other people. People that he cared about, even if they didn’t deserve it.

Don’t you have someone you care about more than anything?

There is a way.

Wolfwood had done so much in the name of protecting his family. What was one more thing?

“Do you have something I can write with?” Wolfwood asked.

He wrote two notes. One he left on Meryl’s pillow, just in case she woke up. The other stayed clutched in his hand as they left the hotel and started back up the mesa. “The orphanage is run by the people I stole from in July,” Wolfwood said about halfway up. “Their…clergy if you want to call them that, usually come from people like me. Orphans, the destitute…and they have to pass certain tests to quality. I passed, so…” He shrugged. “Well, you saw.”

Vash considered this for a moment. “And…you said it has to be you. Because if it wasn’t you, it would be one of the other kids?”

Wolfwood nodded. “I told you I choose them every time. I don’t want them to take anyone else. I don’t mind if it’s me.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He did mind, he hated the whole damn thing. But he couldn’t make the Eye stop existing, couldn’t reverse everything that Millions Knives had done, couldn’t erase everything that had lead to him being pulled onto that truck. Only make sure he was Hopeland’s last victim. Or one of its last.

“Is there…anything I can do?” Vash asked. “This isn’t…”

“There’s nothing you can do.” Wolfwood took a deep breath. This would be the hard part, he knew. “They’re dangerous. You think people like the Broderick Gang are bad? These people are on an entirely different level. They have their roots in July and…” No, that’s too much, too close. “I don’t want you hurt for me, either. Got it?” Wolfwood stopped talking and turned around to face him. “You staying safe will do more for me than anything. I mean that.”

Vash’s eyes were so deeply sad that Wolfwood couldn’t look at them for long. Don’t waste that sadness on me. I’m not worth it. “Okay,” Vash whispered. “Okay.” He started to reach for Wolfwood, but jerked his hand back. “So…where are we going?”

“There’s something I’ve gotta do before I go. Don’t know if it will accomplish anything, but I have to try.”

Vash nodded, and didn’t say another word.

It was a gut feeling that made him detour to the abandoned buildings. Livio had only done this one other time, but that had been under equally rough circumstances. If he wasn’t at the orphanage, he’d be here.

Wolfwood was right: Livio was in the second building they checked, curled up so tightly in a corner that you’d miss him if you didn’t know where to look. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a backpack clutched in his arms. He wasn’t actively crying anymore, but Wolfwood could see tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Ah, geez, crybaby,” Wolfwood whispered. “Don’t wear yourself out on my account.” He knelt next to him carefully and started humming. That had always kept Livio calm and asleep when they were kids, and it worked now. Livio didn’t stir as Wolfwood reached out to him, carefully slipping the second note into his hand.

Livio wrote himself notes all the time. He said his imaginary friend did it. Wasn’t too out of the norm in terms of imaginary friend stuff, and it worked to Wolfwood’s advantage now. He wasn’t sure if the handwriting matched, but hopefully Livio would still take what it said seriously.

If the men from the Eye come back, run. They’ll lie to you about Nico. Don’t trust them.

It was all he could think to do.

Livio’s fingers caught Wolfwood’s for a moment as he pulled his hand back. Wolfwood let the touch linger for a moment, watched how it smoothed the remaining worry creases from Livio’s forehead. He’d always been smaller than Wolfwood, but that smallness was so much more obvious now. He felt as light and fragile as the chicks they tended to at the orphanage.

He doesn’t deserve what’s coming. Please, God…

Even asking for a promise from God felt too much, so he let the thought trail off. He pulled his hand away, carefully and gently, and stepped back. He thought about picking Livio up and carrying him to the orphanage, but he didn’t want to risk waking him.

But I can’t leave him alone.

Wolfwood gestured for Vash to step outside. Once they were out of earshot, he whispered, “I’m gonna stay up here until he wakes up. You head back. Don’t want to worry Meryl.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be all right.”

Vash hesitated and looked over Wolfwood’s shoulder. “He’s important to you,” he said. “What’s his name?”

“…Livio.”

Vash nodded and looked back and Wolfwood. Before he could speak, Wolfwood cut him, off. “Don’t. Don’t make me any promises right now. Not about this. Okay?”

I’ll believe you if you do. I’ll believe you and when it doesn’t work out, it will kill me. I can’t put my faith in anyone like that. Not with him.

“For your sake…no promises. Forget you ever saw him, if that’s what it takes for you not to do something stupid. Just…” Wolfwood took a deep breath. “I can’t ask anything of you. I won’t.”

Vash looked him over carefully, then nodded. “Okay,” he said calmly.

And just like that, the matter was dropped. Vash turned around and started back down the trail.

Wolfwood hadn’t asked anything of Vash. He hadn’t planned on it, hadn’t planned on anything but his wild leap of faith with the note. But he couldn’t escape the feeling Vash’s okay had been a different kind of agreement.

One he couldn’t bring himself to fight Vash on.

He couldn’t think about it for too long either, though, so he shoved the thought aside, picked a spot that was out of sight while still giving him a clear view of Livio’s makeshift shelter, and waited. His worried thoughts didn’t plague him as much as he thought they would, but then again, he was keeping watch.

Keeping Livio safe was the most important thing.

It was sunrise when Livio stumbled out of the house, his backpack dragging the ground, the note clutched in his fist. He stopped in a patch of sunlight to read it. The frown that appeared on his face went from concentrated to worried quickly. He glanced down at his shadow as if he expected it to talk to him before digging a shallow hole and burying the note in it.

Atta boy, Liv.

Livio took one last look at the wastes around them before he started up the path. Wolfwood gave him plenty of head start before following. It wasn’t until he reached the top and saw Livio make his way safely onto the roof that he turned around and started back into town.

He tried not to think about it too hard. Not to pray. Not to hope.

He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded.

.

Meryl’s panic at Wolfwood’s absence lasted all of five seconds. Vash had barely finished saying he could explain before the door swung open. Wolfwood was there, casual as if he’d just stepped out for breakfast. “What?” he said.

Meryl would’ve throttled him if she wasn’t so relieved. He looked tired—she doubted he’d slept. wherever it was he’d gone—but there was something different about it. He’d aged back into his skin overnight, as if he had finally dragged himself out of his memories and into the present.

It was good to see, of course, but she was still a bit peeved that he’d just vanished like that on her. Meryl thumped her fist against Wolfwood’s chest. “Don’t scare me like that!” she said. “I thought…”

Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I’m not the one here who needs constant monitoring. You two are the ones who run to danger like it’s candy.” He turned to Vash. “No sign of a portal yet, I’m guessing…guess that gives us time for breakfast?”

Vash had been staring intensely at Wolfwood, as if gauging his state. Whatever he’d seen, he must’ve decided it warranted some cheer first and foremost. He smiled brightly at them. “Breakfast sounds great.”

So, they had breakfast. They were normal, or as normal as they could be, until the meal was over. The portal appeared as they were finishing up checking over everyone’s supplies. “Our timing is getting better,” Wolfwood noted.

“Still feels too soon,” Meryl admitted quietly.

“I’ll be okay,” Vash said immediately. “Someone’s definitely coming.” He hugged her tightly. “And I’ll see you again soon.”

Something passed between him and Wolfwood when they faced each other after the lighter exchanged hands. Meryl wasn’t sure what, but from the way Wolfwood’s jaw clenched, he hadn’t been the only one to wander off while they were asleep, and whatever they’d talked about had been pretty serious. He hugged Vash tightly. “Nothing stupid, remember?” he said quietly.

“I never do anything stupid,” Vash replied.

“I’m being serious.”

“Okay. Nothing stupid.”

Meryl was immediately curious what that was all about, but the look in Wolfwood’s eyes as he pulled away from the hug told her she would never ask. She caught a glimpse of raw pain behind those sunglasses, hope struggling to free itself from that pain. Vash’s smile was downright serene in comparison, a promise that everything would be okay. She didn’t think Wolfwood believed that, though.

She’d never know what had passed between them last night, and she would just have to content herself with that.

She let Wolfwood go through first, and glanced over her shoulder at Vash as she went. He wasn’t looking after them; instead, he was staring out the window, his expression thoughtful. She hoped whatever decision he was making wasn’t one he was making rashly.

Nothing stupid. That was a bit of an ask for Vash, she had to admit.

When she emerged on the other side, Wolfwood was drawing his rifle. She immediately reached for her derringer. “Trouble?” she asked.

“Don’t like that we’re inside,” he said. He was right: they were in some kind of warehouse, surrounded by boxes. They had a lot of different city-symbols stamped onto them, so she couldn’t place exactly where they were. “Good chance we’re someplace we’re not supposed to be.”

“We’d better find him and get out, then. Are you okay?”

Wolfwood grunted and shrugged. “Okay as I can be.” His weight shifted as he went to rub the back of his heel against his shin. “I’ll keep my head on straight. Promise…”

His eyes widened and his foot dropped back to the floor. He looked at his shin, then at Meryl. “…you seeing this?”

The bruise was gone. Aside from the cuts on his ankle from the worm bite, he was completely unhurt. Immediately, Meryl tried to bring up the memory of what had happened in July. She had run into Wolfwood, he’d made some smart comments, tried to get around her, she’d had enough and kicked him…

But no. That wasn’t what had happened. Was it?

When she thought about it a second time, she remembered running into him. Asking where Vash had gone. She remembered Wolfwood staring past her, eyes distant, face ashen and drawn. His hand gripped the strap of his weapon as if letting go would make him drift away. And when she’d asked him where Vash was…he’d been the one to lead her to the tank.

“Wolfwood?” Meryl said quietly.

He stared at her, gripping his rifle as tightly as he gripped the strap in her new memory. He must have noticed it, too. July had changed. But why? What had changed Wolfwood’s mind, even partially?

The sound of shouts and a gunshot jarred them both back to the present. They ran towards the sound without another word. Vash needed them. Whatever had or hadn’t happened anymore in July would have to wait.

But she would have to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.

[icouldntfindquiet]

there's been so many weird rumours over the last few weeks saying that Van's in rehab or now he's in jail but I'm 99% sure it's him on the instagram account and he wouldn't have a phone or Internet if he was in either of them places. He's probably just been at home this whole time

I just looked back at when his Instagram location switched back to the UK and it was 2nd October which is around the time he advertised Manchester Heaton Park. I’m 99% sure it’s him on Instagram too because of the full link and how they have a history of posting links. 😂 Van’s personal Instagram location switches back to the UK when something major happens like The Balcony 10 Year Anniversary is released and when Manchester Heaton Park presale tickets went on sale so he is online. 👀

The rumors are wild and I just feel so sorry for the guy. 😢 I wish he’d say something and clear things up but he doesn’t which lets these things happen. I swear some people have way too much time on their hands. I don’t think they realize how harmful these rumors are, especially when they’re about you. 😭

^ He didn’t really say “when will you stop torturing me.” Someone added that text I think but don’t quote me. 😂

[feelingpure]

Fellow Travelers Rewatch Party | You're Wonderful

Favourite moment(s) or scene(s) of the episode

It's still the whole chicken noodle soup scenario, from Hawk's entrance up until the radio gets brought up. I like how it sets up their starting dynamic. And to link with that, the whole dynamic filp when “I wanna go to the party” happens. Tim's hones his seductress powers, and we get to see Hawk be the flustered one caught off guard for once.

I also really like the opening scenes 🥹 and the election night meeting and the 1st time at the Cozy Corner and and and–

Favourite quote/dialogue

There's so many too choose from 😭 I'm gonna list a few;

For funsies:

“I'm your boy, right?” - I mean, it's the blog title for a reason - the moment the tables turn. (I made an edit of this moment as a bit of episode appreciation, as suggested in the master series rewatch post 🫶)

“I'll spend the afternoon picturing you kneeling in prayer.”

For feelsies:

“When I committed this sin, I felt pure. More pure than I felt in my entire life. So how can I be sorry for it?”

“I want to hold you tonight. If you'll let me.” - it's just so 🥺

Something new you noticed after the rewatch

Joe Alsop is talking about turtle soup that smells like feet (but taste great) at his party. 👀 And Tim's just stood there, then the camera goes back and settles on Hawk in the background talking to Lucy and someone else. Tim's smile fades at first for a lil bit, but then he has this like sneaky smile when it goes back to him. Given what happened in the previous scene, it's very... 😈

And just some more of this bit, Tim then goes to grab a drink for Mary and as he's walking away we see Hawk tracking him with his eyes (and of course he then follows him). I knew the major beats at this party, but there were certain little things that I definitely did not pick up on before. 😆 (Probably too brrrrrrrr from the previous scene)

The MVP of the episode

I think I'm gonna have to go with 80s Tim, even though we only catch a glimpse of him. It's the decision he makes, to allow Hawk back in, that makes the rest of the 80s timeline possible. 🥲

You general thoughts on the episode

It just perfectly sets everything up for the rest of the series. There's so many bits of dialogue that calls back to things later on, or is just more interesting with them in mind. Also all the anticipation at the end, even when you already know the while story, some bits still had me holding my breath like an idiot hahah.

My main feelings coming out of episode 1 is just always wanting to protect 50s Tim at all costs. Though after seeing the whole show and softening on Hawk, I also wanna protect him; from himself. But yeah - screaming crying etc.

Thoughts on soundtrack of the episode

I'll spare you the essay about when each part the score comes up in the episode and how it makes me feel (😭), but it's just brilliant. Hawk's main theme at the election party, and Pull Them Off at Tim's apartment being notable.

The Waiting for Tim theme especially is just. 😚🤌 He's waiting for his call back at that cafe/diner in the 80s, while he was also waiting outside his apartment in the 50s, and it's just full of anticipation. 🥺

While you're here, go listen to the composer talk about this particular piece.

[ilovejoel-andjavi]

hi everyone! this is my first post, and these are some of my fav pedro’s replies on reddit!

Fav fruit: any kinds of berries, quote on quote “I would say that my favorite fruit, I like berries. I like any kind of berry, blueberries or raspberries or blackberries or strawberries.”

fav animal: elephant, quote on quote “Elephant. I'm just completely transfixed when I see one on television or at a zoo. I find them sort of magnificent, and humorous, and intelligent, and gentle, and dangerous, and I just think that they are incredible.”

His Fav Chilean Wine: “Chile has very, very good Merlot. And I would say that, hmm, there's one called the Alma Viva, it's a Cabernet, and that's very good.”

His opinion on microwaved pizza “I have the same problem. I eat out a lot. I unfortunately don't really know how to cook for myself. I try to find good things to eat, but sadly am often on the go, and a microwaveable pizza finds its way into my situation more often than not.”

Fav sock color to wear: “I'd say the easiest socks to wear would be black socks. And the most fun socks would be some sort of, you know, odd pattern of purple, aqua and green.”

His opinion on Dogs or cats: “Well, I LOVE Dogs like there's no tomorrow. And unfortunately I have an allergy to cats, although I find them to be beautiful creatures.”

Role model: “I had a lot of different role models. My dad took me to the movies my whole life, he was a big movie buff, and me and my sister would go with him to the movies a few times a week. So I had so many heroes, like all of the major actors. I would have to say one of my favorite actors is probably Gene Hackman, but that's a really hard question to answer because I've had so many heroes that I've admired, filmmakers that i have loved, I remember seeing Steven Soderbergh's first movie when I was really young and then seeing every movie he did after that. I was a very book reading, television and movie watching geek. So it makes it endless in terms of the amount of people that I have admired.”

Fav superhero: “Sorry for not picking an ACTUAL superhero, but one of my favorite characters that was a superhero to me was Beatrix Kiddo in the Kill Bill movies, played by Uma Thurman in the Kill Bill Movies 1 & 2. For me she is one of the fiercest movie characters of all time.”

Does he like hummus? “I love hummus. I was eating hummus this morning.”

Someone asked “Prince Oberyn, what undergarments are present under your tunic?” his response on reddit was “Um, well, I've got some pants on and under that... skin.”

Someone asked “How long would you last in a zombie apocalypse? Cheers for the AmA, and I hope to see you in more stuff soon <33” He replied, “One of my favorite movies is 28 Days Later, and I used to think about this a lot after I watched that movie because I feel like it's such a terrifyingly realistic possible circumstance, that a virus would turn these people into rabid zombies, so I kind of wondered often how i would survive. I remember that I had a dog at the time, and I knew that i would have to keep her alive at all costs. I don't know exactly how well I would do, but I would probably do everything to keep myself and my friends safe. I might not last that long because I would probably sacrifice myself to save a family member or something like that. I'd like to think so anyway. I would say that so far I've been pretty lucky because my mom has good genes, and that's gotten me by, I am capable of watching more hours of television than I am doing exercise in a week, so it would really depend. I actually get out of breath really easily, so I think in a zombie apocalypse I would have to rely a bit more on my brain rather than my body.”

Fav sci-fi film: “GOOD QUESTION! OOOOH I have so many favorite science fiction films. I would say Alien and Aliens are two of my favorite scifi films. Also Children of Men would be one of my favorite science fiction films. I love the original Solaris and the remake. And even though it wasn't a film, the series Battlestar Galactica was one of my favorite TV shows.”

Fav disney film: “Even though it's associated more with Pixar, I would say Wall-E. And the Incredibles. Those are two of my favorite films of all time. And then as far as Disney, more of the classic animations, I would say my favorite Disney film is Dumbo. I like to cry, what can I say?”

Someone said, “Hi Pedro, thanks for doing this!

Just curious, Oberyn seems like a very calm and relaxed character most of the time in the show. Are you like that most days as well? If so, how do you manage to keep cool and stress free?”

he replied, “I unfortunately am not a stress-free person. I am so happy that Oberyn is coming across that way. I would love to be able to move through life with the ease with which he does. But that is not the case in my reality. I guess I relax with any opportunity to jump in the water, that is a good one, and of course i also watch a lot of TV. But I am not as cool and collected as Oberyn, unfortunately.”

Someone asked, “If you weren't an actor, what profession would you like to pursue? (Assuming skills aren't an issue!) Love your portrayal of Prince Oberyn, and I can't wait until next week's episode! <3”

he replied “If I wasn't an actor, hmm. It would be my fantasy to be a war journalist. Or teaching literature, maybe?”

part 2 soon!!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

More replies~ Not a lot today…

Anonymous asked:

In that vegan powers fanart, i really thought the corn was something else,,,

Don’t worry, Anon, I’m sure that that corn (and all the other vegetables in Todd’s super vegan form) are multifunctional!

Anonymous asked:

“Ortho is a top because he is MEEEEEEEEE and I want to fuck Idia hence he is a bottom” this made me think how i often wonder if i kin Idia because i relate to him in many things, but especially and more often on how i think his brother is hot

(the quote is from this post, and it sounds absolutely batshit insane out of context omfg 😭)

Anon!! I didn’t expect that punchline LOL preach!! The most relatable thing about the Shrouds is how crazy they are for each other, I agree. Absolutely shameless.

In all honesty, the role of relatability (for the characters in general or the feelings they have for other characters) plays a role in shipping, even though a lot of times it’s a subconscious thing. It’s not always the case, of course.

Anonymous asked:

Baby by Charli XCX gives major Azul vibes, just saying…

I always knew Azul was a dangerous femme fatale…

Anonymous asked:

After I played book 6 of twisted wonderland, I was listening to Self-Love by Coi Leray on repeat to torment myself. Are there any song that you relate to Idia?

What a way to torment yourself, that’s too emotionally cruel :( Sad post-book-6 vibes…

I don’t really have any specific song that I strongly relate to him, but I catch myself thinking “heh it’s Idia” sometimes. One example of a song with this type of association would be “Ghosts” from the game Night in the Woods.

You're still here

I think I'm fine

I found the stars

But I lost my mind

Where do we go

If we're not together?

Everything sucks

Forever. 💪😔

Anonymous asked:

If post chapter 5 Epel was sent back to the beginning of the school year, do you think he would try and mess with Vil a bit?

“Mess” as in “hint on what’s going to happen”? I’m not sure if I understood you correctly, sorry.

It depends on whether or not Epel knows the rules of the time travel and that even a minor change could affect the events of the future in a very drastic way; and knowing Epel, he probably doesn’t lol So I think it depends on whether he feels like being a little brat that day. He’d still get his ass kicked, though.

Anonymous asked:

Here's a pairing I stumbled across while looking for fics to read - Crewel x Vil's dad. Thoughts? Opinions?

You know what? It could be possible; I can picture Crewel knowing some high profile people, so he could meet Eric at some event. They could have nice potential. But since we don’t really know much about Vil’s dad, I can’t really dive any deeper into that.

But Eric intrigues me very much, it’s a shame we haven’t seen a lot of him :(

Anonymous asked:

I could see Phoenix and crew expecting Riddle to be condescending towards Trucy since he does real magic while Trucy does stage magic, but instead he really enjoys Trucy's shows. If Ace is part of the Wright Anything Agency,  he'll be like "Oh yeah, we were in the same dorm in school and he acted just like this whenever I did simple card tricks for him. 😈" which results in Ace getting collared.

(this is related to the idea of Riddle being an Ace Attorney Prosecutor and Ace being an attorney in the same au)

Don’t ruin his stoic unbreakable image, Ace!! Well, I guess it was already ruined by Riddle loving Trucy’s magic tricks lol This is honestly very sweet. I really like this side of Riddle, and of course it would be Trucy’s tricks that would make it show. Wait, doesn’t she have some underwear tricks? I’m not sure if Riddle is ready for these ones.

+ Damn, Riddle can collar people in this universe too? That shouldn’t be surprising to be honest… Considering all the other mystical and magical stuff this franchise has…

[amtrak12]

I left 300+ comments on fics in 3 days

So the Seasons of Drabbles fic exchange just wrapped up its summer round, and I had a blast with it! I plan on making a wrap-up post about my experience as both a writer and a reader, but first I want to talk about how I read and commented on 338 drabbles (aka everything posted as of the day authors were revealed) in one weekend. 👀

Why

First of all, why the fuck did I read and comment on sooooo many drabbles? For multiple reasons:

I haven't received many comments on my most recent fic updates which has left me pretty bummed out

If I'm going to claim "Even a simple heart emoji goes a long way!" then I should practice what I preach

I was so excited/impatient for fic reveals that I skimmed through past rounds for fandoms I like and found a fic that didn't have any comments even 5 months later, not even from the giftee :(

So yeah, I was determined that every single fic posted to the summer round was getting a heart emoji and a kudos from me BARE MINIMUM! And if I'm kudos-ing and commenting, then I might as well read the fic too. What if it's really good? What if it's really sad and a heart emoji doesn't fit the tone? I need to know these things!

Methodology

I made a game plan. My baseline comment was a purple heart 💜 because that's my go to color. If I found something to quote, I quoted it. If it was angsty (or seemed angsty), I might do an 'Ooph!' before the heart, or even a broken heart emoji paired with a 'Good job!'. If someone did a series of drabbles and split the drabbles up into their own chapters, I switched up the color of the hearts for each chapter -- and yes I did comment on each chapter! As an author, I LOVE when I get comments along the way and not just at the end. And as a reader, it gave me extra space to quote or add commentary, if I had it (and sometimes I did!). Commenting on every chapter is 👍👍👍 Do recommend.

But did I actually READ every single one of these fics, you ask? Yes. Like 99% of them. There were a couple where I knew enough about the fandom to know I wanted nothing to do with that or where the series of drabbles was so long, that I was like "oh bestie, I can't do it. I'm so sorry :(" But I still skimmed those enough to grasp the tone of the fic so I could modify my heart emoji comment as needed.

Results

OMG it was so frickin fun! I mean, did my eyes start to bleed? Did I have to take breaks from reading because I caught myself skimming too much? Yes, of course. IT WAS 338 DRABBLES IN THREE DAYS! And not all of them were 100-300 words long. Some of those were 1-2k words! I should've taken more breaks than I did, but I really wanted to get all/the majority done before author reveals for arbitrary reasons only my brain knows (it won't even tell me you guys 😜) But even still, it was super super fun to see the huge variety of fics out there!

It's also been a blast to see the author replies roll in. Some replied before author reveals so they still showed anonymous. Most waited until after the reveals and I got to learn that WHOA, so-and-so wrote like 7 of those drabbles! *applauds* Sometimes they replied with a thank you, sometimes it was their own preferred heart emoji. It's so cute seeing how other people like to say thank you, because I know I've definitely settled into a 'style' when I reply to comments on my fics. 💜

Would I do it again?

I honestly don't know. It was exhausting burning through all those fics in such a short amount of time. Now this particular fic exchange is smaller and only runs four times a year, so give me three months and I can probably do it again no problem. But right now, I definitely need a break lol No regrets though!!

Highlights of my reading:

I learned Object and Concept Anthropomorphism is a category on AO3. 😲 Which on the one hand, shouldn't surprise me because I KNOW I read crack fic with anthropomorphism back on LiveJournal. But it still delighted me to see it pop up in this fic exchange. XD

On that note Chess Pieces (Anthropomorphic) is apparently popular enough to warrant it's own, individual, fandom tag. Incredible information to know!! I love that!

There's a user named DanceWithOrangutans and they seem to only request or write orangutan fiction or maybe Planet of the Apes fic if they feel like branching out. Truly an icon to end all icons! 🌟 They're my new favorite person and I look forward to reading lots of orangutan flash fiction in future rounds ����

I have absolutely no idea what was going on in any of the anime fics but some of them were super adorable and fluffy 🥰

My absolute favorite thing was when people who actually know that fandom commented before me, so when I left my little heart, I would get to read them squeeing and crying and freaking out over how good the drabble was. :') They'd be like 'IT WAS SO IN CHARACTER!!! 😭' and I'd be like 'oh cool, the author nailed it! 😄' 10/10 experience

And to wrap things up...

Seasons of Drabbles: Summer Round Superlatives

Best Author's Note:

satisfy the desire of the afflicted by yesthisisnarumi (Dungeon Meshi, M, 300 words)

Hysterical author's note. Absolutely loved it. 😂

Most Baller Line:

birds of a feather by embraidery (Stardew Valley, T, 1100 words)

CAN IMAGINE WHERE A SMILE MIGHT GO???????? Are you fucking kidding me right now???????????? Brilliant work! A++ I'm still losing my mind about it!

I Don't Go Here But Holy Shit That's Good Writing:

recoil by Fleetling (The Man From U.N.C.L.E, T, 300 words)

The use of gun imagery to describe their relationship -- which from the one viewing of the trailer I saw years ago, seems pretty fitting for the movie -- just blew my mind. "voice cracking like gunfire" in the next paragraph? -- GOOD GOD! Again, don't even remotely go here, but damn this fic was really well written!

Best Username:

ECwrotethisforyou

You know what, yeah. You did write that, buddy! And you should remind everyone reading your fics that these are gifts! In or outside of a fic exchange. I approve! 👏

Best Story Structure:

If Comfy, Warm, and My Size, Why No Sit: A Meta-analysis of Research into the Warm Flat Rectangle by Dr Fluffy Jones by finerandbonnier (Original Work, G, 300 words)

YOU GUYS!!!!!!! If you have ever read a scientific paper for school or for funsies, you need to read this fic! It has FOOTNOTES! It has a BIBLIOGRAPHY in the end author's note! IT'S A FUCKING WORK OF GENIUS!!!!!!!!!!! 12/10 All the applause 🎉👏👏👏🌟