#then you see her having to translate herself to other people's expectations when she's outside of the empire

[gideonisms]

I can't read the aj book reviews on goodreads though because I feel like people collectively did not get that the gender thing was A) in service to her other themes not the entire point of the book B) not a girlboss everyone's a woman now thing either

[beansprean]

WHAT WE CLUE IN THE SHADOWS: A FINALE CONSPIRACY BOARD

So. WWDITS may have the actual balls to do this to us. and I for one am INCREDIBLY excited for the possibility. If you're a WWDITS fan and haven't seen Clue (1985), I highly recommend taking 95 minutes to do so before the finale. Just in case.

Clue is my favorite movie, I have probably seen it upwards of 100 times for real, and I can recite it from memory with 90% accuracy. I also have the pleasure of owning and playing the WWDITS-themed Clue game, which is centered around finding out who stole the witch's skin hat and where in the house they hid it. I don't know if that will play into the finale at all, but it's something to think about.

The thing about Clue (the film), if you aren't aware, is that there are three different endings. On the vhs/dvd, you see all three in a row between 'that's how it could have happened, but what about this?' title cards. In theaters, there were three versions of the movie (labeled A, B, and C) that were dispersed to different theaters, so depending on where and when you went to see it you would see one of 3 endings. (It's kinda unclear which letter corresponded to which originally, so my labels will be assuming a 1:1 comparison between the order of the home version of Clue and the airing order of the WWDITS episodes.) The Clue endings are not all made equal, and on the home version, the final ending is announced as 'what really happened.'

So allow me to take a moment to talk about how the different endings work in context to each other and the film, and how that could translate to three different endings for WWDITS.

CLUE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT (for real, go watch it)

(last chance to watch Clue go)

Ending#1: "Communism is just a red herring"

In this ending, the first one that plays in the home version, Miss Scarlet is revealed to be the murderer. She is a snarky, sarcastic madam who runs a "hotel and telephone service to provide men with the company of a young lady for a short while" and has policemen on her payroll. This is what I would consider the expected ending, the one that makes sense for most viewers. It's not shocking, but it's funny and well acted and it makes the most sense. Miss Scarlet has the right personality for murder, was in the most convenient area of the house to commit them, and had Yvette (the maid, formerly one of Miss Scarlet's call girls) committing some of the murders at her direction, so she had enough alibis to not make her too obvious. Many people watching this movie for the first time will have her high on their suspect list.

This ending also dismisses the idea of 'dangerous communism' that had been a thread throughout the film (as it is set in 1953 during the second Red Scare) as a misdirection. Miss Scarlet isn't stealing government secrets to betray the US; she's doing it to make money. The real danger all along was capitalism, something that s6 of WWDITS has said repeatedly.

So, to recap, this is the Standard Ending. The Second Best ending. Version B.

Ending #2: "Mrs. Peacock did it all."

This one, played second in the home version, is in my opinion the weakest ending. It reveals Mrs. Peacock, the neurotic, hysterical, and allegedly politically corrupt wife of a senator, as the murderer. She's hilarious and fantastic to watch throughout the whole film and I love her, but this charm drops after the reveal and she becomes cold and drab as she threatens her way to safety. She committed all the murders herself, which would be very difficult to achieve with the tight timing and her position in the basement during the search.

She ends up being caught outside the house by a police inspector, who had earlier shown up disguised as an evangelist telling her to "repent, the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Interestingly, they originally filmed him immediately shooting her dead without provocation, but they thought that was too dark and edited it into an arrest instead (which is why there is such a quick cut after he pulls his gun, and we only hear her rather than see her after that). This is the 'repent for your sins' ending. You do bad things, bad things happen to you.

The obligatory "it's always who you least expect" ending. The Still-Good-But-Not-The-Best Ending. Version C.

Ending #3: "You're Mr. Boddy!"

This is "how it really happened" - the twist ending! The hero was the villain, the villain was just a pawn, and everyone committed a murder in the house to cover their own asses. Prof Plum killed the fake Mr. Boddy, Miss Scarlet killed the cop, Mrs. Peacock killed Mrs. Ho (the cook), Mrs. White killed Yvette, Colonel Mustard killed the motorist, and Wadsworth/Mr. Boddy killed the singing telegram girl.

Mr. Green, who reveals he works for the FBI, kills Wadsworth/Mr. Boddy and arrests the rest of the cast. Understandably the best and most exciting ending (though not without some plot holes) that everyone loves. We get a surprising reveal from two of our main characters that not only changes the context with how you view them, but informs aspects of their character that have been there throughout the film! Now we understand why Wadsworth retained control of the house and the timeline of events, why he was so familiar with the house, and why this entire thing was orchestrated in the first place. We also understand why the cowardly and clumsy Mr. Green was consistently the first to jump to help and defend the other characters, even when it meant putting himself if physical danger. Unfortunately this ending also suggests that he was only pretending to be gay (wouldn't that be a twist for Guillermo lol), but he could also just be in a lavender marriage which is what I choose to believe.

This ending also has the iconic 'flames on the side of my face' scene and repeats 'communism is a red herring', this time in the context of Mr. Boddy's intention to continue blackmailing them all now that they have taken care of anyone who could have pointed the finger at him.

This is the True Ending. The twist you didn't expect but are delighted to find. The 'nothing was as it seemed' endng. The ending that is the most intentional and complete, where everyone gets to shine. Version A.

So what will we be doing in those shadows?

We can assume that e11 will not revolve around finding a murderer, but it does, from what we've seen in the trailer, revolve around making a wife for the monster. Do we get three different wives? Three different actors to play her? Three different superhero identities for Nandor and Guillermo? Three different levels of nandermo: one with a handshake, one with a hug, one with a kiss? Three different explanations for the origin and/or purpose of the documentary? (this is my personal favorite) Or is each ending entirely divorced from the other? Only time will tell.

What I'm leaning toward is that each episode will come up to the same turning point - a decision, a reveal, etc. The first two versions will have reasonable possibilities, the first less surprising but more enjoyable than the second, and the third... The third will be what really happened, and pull a twist no one saw coming. Perhaps even a character will reveal a hidden identity. Maybe, just maybe...we get Simon the Devious.

I only hope the order of the episodes doesn't change between channels or time zones because that will make things very confusing when liveblogging it in the group chat lmao.

[writerslittlelibrary]

So, I'm not a prisoner?

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 extra

summary: you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you…

pairing: Natasha x Red Room teen reader

warnings: fighting, weapons, stabbing, blood, implied sexual abuse

genre: fluff, angst

words: 3073

a/n: I wanted to do a fic like this for so long!!!! anyway, I just kept scouting tumblr trying to find fics like this, so I figured I’d finally write one myself :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

A quick in and out. That was your mission. How on earth did you manage to screw it up so bad. In and out. Assassinate the traitor and come right back. 

Dreykov would’ve been so proud. 

But that didn’t happen. No. Every single aspect about that night failed to go according to plan. You snuck into the event Stark had hosted, was able to blend in with the other party goers, and you were able to hide when most of the people started to leave. 

Once it was just the Avengers left, you stayed in your hiding spot, observing them. You were here to kill Natasha Romanoff, and Natasha Romanoff only. 

You could not afford any casualties, so you had it all planned out. 

You’d wait until the Avengers would leave, and you’d take Natasha out before she could make it to her living quarters. You knew that once she made it to the living space of the Avengers tower, getting to her would be a lot harder. 

However, against all odds, Natasha excused herself from the group quite early, saying she wanted to get a good nights sleep. 

You internally cursed yourself, hating that this wasn’t something that you had planned for. 

Around the couches were still some Avengers sat. You recognised all of them. Clint Barton shouldn’t be too much trouble. He was only a guy who���s good with a bow. For Maria Hill could be said the same thing, except she’s very skilled with a gun.

No, you were worried about the other Avengers still seated. Tony Stark could call upon his armour in mere seconds. Thor had the power of thunder for god’s sake. Wanda Maximoff has exceptional powers, and therefor, if you were to attack with her still in the room, you’d be immobilised in an instant. 

You were fairly certain you didn’t need to worry much about Bruce Banner. Sure, he could turn into the Hulk, but he didn’t turn often, and lately, the Hulk hasn’t been spotted in the battlefield, meaning he probably had many trouble turning into him. 

Pietro Maximoff shouldn’t bring you a lot of trouble either. 

Your main concern were Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. One Super Soldier you could handle, but two? While fighting the rest of the Avengers? That wasn’t going to work. 

Lucky for you, Wanda Maximoff had excused herself from the gathering a while ago. If you didn’t make to much noise, she wouldn’t be much of a problem. You could be outside before she’d even make it to the party deck. 

Your original plan was to just wait. Natasha Romanoff would have usually sat through a party until far into the evening. You’d know, you’ve been watching her for weeks. 

However, now that Romanoff has announced she was returning to her bedroom, a slight panic ran through your body. 

Dreykov gave your 5 weeks to finish this assignment. That’s longer than any assignment you’d ever been on. You could not disappoint him with this. You had to kill the traitor. 

You figured now was your only chance, and so, as Natasha Romanoff made her way towards the elevator, you followed her. 

However, not even to your surprise, she stopped in the middle of the hallway. 

“You know I’m an assassin, too? You’re good, but you’re not un noticeable,” she states, calmly turning around, being met with a gun to your face. The moment she stopped, you were wise enough to draw your gun, holding her at gunpoint for any sudden movements. 

You could see a slight surprise appear on her face, before her face returned to her poker face once again. 

“You’re just a child…” Natasha spoke slowly, seeming almost disappointed. 

“You’re a traitor,” you spoke, loading the gun, taking a step closer. Natasha simply shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she spoke, before leaping towards you. You shot your gun, but Natasha was too fast, avoiding your gunfire as she ran past you, back to the other Avengers. 

How on earth could you have missed that shot? She was right there.

Pathetic. 

You don’t hesitate to run after her, determined to finish this tonight. 

Very much not to your surprise, the moment you run back into the party hall, the Avengers are already standing up and ready. Ready to fight you.

You don’t hesitate to move forwards, and after fighting Clint Barton for mere seconds, you quickly realise they have no intention of hurting you. You could use that to your advantage, and you do.

You kick Barton hard, leaving him on the floor, heaving for air as you move forward, taking on Maria. 

However, the moment you get close to Maria, two strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you back. They’re holding you tightly, and it doesn’t feel like they’re planning to let go. 

You struggle in the hold, fighting against who ever is holding you as you try to break free. A small panic runs through your body. The fear of being captured by the Avengers taking place in your mind. You do not fear the Avengers, but the thought of being seen as a traitor by Dreykov hurts your heart more than words could describe. 

“Stop struggling. We can help you,” you hear a voice behind you speak, and you soon come to realise the person you’re fighting is Captain America himself. 

No wonder you couldn’t get loose. 

Knowing it’s a Super Soldier, you’re quick to outsmart him, making him think you’re getting tired, relaxing your body is his hold. Because of this, the Captain lightens his grip a bit, giving you enough room to wiggle your arm free, moving it backwards to hit him in the face with your elbow. 

Because of the surprise, he lets you go, allowing you to stand again. 

The moment your feet hit the ground, you dash forward, holding up your knife as you use everyone’s shock to your advantage. 

Everyone is surprised by your capability of escaping Steve’s grasp, not realising your already moving towards Natasha again. You reach her quickly, stabbing your knife into her stomach as far as it can go. 

Natasha gasps, and you pull the knife out, watching as all the blood starts to seep from her stomach. 

Slowly, Natasha sinks to the ground, Maria catching her, helping her down. 

You move towards Natasha again, determined to get the job finished, but are quickly stopped by another pair of arms wrapping around your waist. You immediately recognise the metal arm, knowing that the Winter Soldier holds you in his grasp. You can’t escape him. You never have. 

He pulls you backwards, pushing you to the ground as he tries to punch you. However, you regain yourself quickly, rolling away from under him and kicking him in the face. 

Suddenly, you’re moved across the room. You forgot the damn speedster…

You raise your knife quickly, stabbing him before he has a chance to make another move. 

“PIETRO!” you hear a voice yell, and you turn your head to the right. Shit. Wanda Maximoff must have heard the commotion and went down to take a look. You have to get out of there. You will never win a fight with her.

You move quickly, running towards the stairs. However, before you could reach them, you felt a stabbing pain in your left shoulder, the sound of a gun shot following soon after. You had been shot. Bucky Barnes had shot you in an attempt to slow you down. 

But you didn’t let it. 

Instead, you went towards the stairs a little quicker, dashing down the hundreds of flights of stairs to get to the main floor. 

Of course, all SHIELD agents on the main floor were already expecting you, and you were followed by Steve Rogers, but you were quicker than him. You knew that. 

You dashed past all the SHIELD agents, avoiding their gun fire as you made it towards an emergency exit. 

The moment you stepped outside, you started your escape route. You already planned it, knowing exactly which way to go, no matter which way you would exit. 

Steve followed you outside, but the moment he set foot outside the door, you were gone. You had disappeared into the night, leaving no trace. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Back in the Avengers tower, the team was recovering from your attack. Natasha was in bad shape. Your strike had been an attempt to murder her, and you didn’t miss any organs as you pierced your blade through her abdomen. 

Pietro was much better. He was back on his feet quickly, seeing as though you stabbing him hadn’t been a murder attempt. You merely wanted to distract him. 

It didn’t take long for Natasha to get back on her feet either, even though she was advised to stay on bed rest after the surgery. 

Natasha was determined to find you, and she quickly got to work. 

Even though you had made it out of the Avengers tower quickly, you were still hurt, and some of you blood had fallen on the floor as you made your escape towards the stairs. Clint and Maria had collected that blood, running multiple tests, only to find out you were not registered anywhere. 

There was no record of your existence. Were you just another ghost story?

What they did find were traces of the Super Soldier serum. However, they were modified, almost as if they were genetically a part of your system. 

Did that mean you were just another Hydra experiment? Natasha did hear you calling her a traitor. That had to mean you knew Dreykov, right? Who else viewed her as a traitor. I would make sense. Sending a modified teenage assassin after her, knowing Natasha was above killing children. 

Even in the Red Room, she always hesitated when sparring against the younger students. 

Dreykov must have had a lot of faith in you to send you after her. Natasha can only hope you’re not a graduate yet…

-------------------------------------------------------------

After the incident in the Avengers tower, you had fled to Germany. You figured it was best to leave the United States completely. And why would they ever search for you in Germany? 

You had rented an apartment, loving the small town you had chosen. Dreykov had given you 5 weeks to finish the assignment, and now, you had only 1 week left. There is now way that you’re going to succeed in killing Natasha within the week. 

They know you are after her now, and they will be prepared for you to make a return. You screwed it up.

Sloppy. 

Right now, you were just heading back to your apartment. You had taken a walk, deciding to make the most out of the freedom you had in the moment. The week would be over soon, and the moment Dreykov would send for your return you are certain you will not be seeing daylight any time soon. 

After you arrived in the apartment building, you instantly felt watched. 

Had the Avengers found you?

You made your way up to your apartment, pushing the key into the lock and walking through the small hallway. Someone was in here, you could feel it. 

You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, keeping your back towards the living room. 

“There are not a lot of places to hide in this apartment,” you spoke aloud into the emptiness of the apartment. Soon you heard a set of footsteps, and you felt another presence enter the room. 

“You’re very skilled for your age,” you heard a voice behind you say, and you immediately recognised it as Natasha’s. 

“And you are stronger than you look. I mean, even for you, I didn’t expect you to be on your feet so quickly,” you stated, turning around slowly. Natasha wasn’t holding a weapon in your face, something you were definitely expecting. 

You scanned her quickly, seeing the weapons she held on her belt. 

She didn’t come unarmed. Good. She’d be stupid to. 

“I don’t mean you any harm,” Natasha said, taking a small step forward as she held her hands in the air, showing you her every movement. 

You didn’t look impressed, instead just staring at her as she moved. 

“Then you are a fool,” you told her, and you spotted a small smirk flashing over Natasha’s face. “And you are very full of yourself,” she said, moving towards the kitchen island, leaning on it. 

“I can’t say I blame you. You took on a lot of the Avengers on your own. Even two Super Soldiers. That’s impressive,” she stated, giving you a small smile. You didn’t return it. 

“What? Jealous someone better took your place when you betrayed us,” you asked Natasha, determined to get on her nerves.

Natasha’s smile dropped quickly. 

“Quite the opposite, actually. I hoped no one would ever have to go through it again,” she told you, a hint of regret almost identifiable in her expression. Now it was your time to give her a small smile. 

“You think you’re so important that everything should’ve ended with you?” you asked her, moving towards the kitchen island as well, setting your glass down, still holding onto it. 

Natasha shook her head.

“What I am curious about, however, is the genetic Super Soldier serum that runs through your DNA,” Natasha paused, adjusting her stance before speaking again. “Tell me, was your dad a Super Soldier?” 

You let out a huff of amusement, surprising Natasha. 

“You think I believe you’re just here for a conversation? There are SHIELD agents placed on every corner of every street. Don’t think I didn’t notice it. The lovely young couple, drinking coffee at the restaurant downstairs? Amazing disguise, if you were trying to trick nine year olds,” you stated, finishing your glass of water. 

Natasha smiles, clearly impressed with your observations. 

“You’re right. I’m not here for just a conversation, although I do hope we can prevent violence,” Natasha started, but before she could continue you interrupted her. 

“You’re here to bring me in.” 

Natasha nodded, and the look on her face was almost apologetic. 

“No one needs to get hurt. If you just come with me, there’s a big chance you could avoid confinement,” Natasha explained, yet you just scoffed and shook your head. 

“Avoid confinement? Yeah right. There is no way, that after what I have done, your people won’t lock me away.” 

“I can be very persuasive,” Natasha simply replied. 

There was a small silence. Natasha knew you were debating your options. You didn’t seem like a brainwashed sheep. She knew that you knew better than trusting Dreykov’s lies. Sure, you still believed she was a traitor, but there is no way that you didn’t see that what Dreykov is doing is wrong. 

“You know going back after a failed mission will result in punishment,” Natasha started, trying to get through to you. Trying to give you that little push you needed to go with her. “If you go with me, you’ll never be punished like that ever again,” she finished. 

You looked up, deep in thought.

“How could you be so sure?” you asked her, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to respond. 

“We can keep you safe-”

“I found you. I nearly killed you. Who’s to say some other Widow won’t come after me as well?” you replied, and Natasha gave you another small smile. 

“I escaped the Red Room when I was 20,” Natasha started. “It took him 12 years to send someone after me. We will make sure we’ll take him down before he even has the chance to come after you.” 

“How many times, did you try to kill him, exactly? Because I believe you attempted his murder twice already, both of which you failed. You blew him up in Budapest, and then another time when you took the air facility down. Do you honestly think you’ll succeed now?”

Natasha shook her head, seemingly recollecting her thoughts. 

“I failed twice, and that was sloppy, but both times I didn’t have the Avengers on my side. You ran the moment you saw Wanda. You know what she is capable of. Taking down the Red Room for good shouldn’t be too difficult with the Avengers on our side,” Natasha explained, yet you just shook your head. 

“I’m not like you,” you told her, yet Natasha just looked at you in confusion. 

“I’m not some disposable widow like you were. I’m more important,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a sad smile.

“Everyone is just a disposable widow to him,” she started, but you interrupted her. 

“I’m not. You tested my blood. You know I carry the Super Soldier serum. I’m not just some girl he picked up from the streets,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a small nod, encouraging to keep going. 

“I can’t explain it, but he won’t just let me walk. He put too much time in my creation. He would never just let it go to waste,” you finished, looking down, avoiding Natasha’s gaze as you turned around, putting your glass by the sink. 

“We’ll help you. I know that we can,” Natasha tried. 

“Is it worth the risk? My life is not great, but it’s not terrible either. Dreykov values me, and I am not treated like a piece of meat, unlike you might suspect.” 

“So the punishment is worth it, then? Knowing that in three days time, Dreykov will have you be recollected, and once you return to the Red Room, you’ll be punished severely for a failed mission,” Natasha paused, allowing you to let her words sink in. 

“Or, in three days time, you could know you can go to bed without worrying about someone joining. You could know you can be safe, and sleep through the night without anyone disrupting you. Knowing that, is the choice really that hard?” Natasha finished, and you were almost at your breaking point. 

Was it worth it? Was going back the best decision? Dreykov would hurt you, you knew that, but you deserved it. Didn’t you? 

“Please, just come with me. We can help,” Natasha spoke, nearly begged. 

You sighed deeply. 

“Fine, but if you put me in a cell, I will go on a murder streak,” you told her, and Natasha let out a chuckle, before seeing your facial expression, and realising you were dead serious. 

“Duly noted,” Natasha said, before motioning you towards the door. 

What had you done…

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey

[metamorphesque]

Short Story: "Why do flowers die so soon?", Vardges Petrosyan

(translated from Armenian by Tathev Simonyan)

…I remember the last days of my life, which were unlike any that had come before. To the world, I seemed so happy: I had brothers, a sister, a family, a child who was a bell and a brook’s murmur. What else could one need for happiness? And yet, something was missing, for I was not happy. And then, out of nowhere, she poured into my life.

Has it ever happened that, on a hot summer day, while you’re standing there, dazed by the sun and dreams, someone playfully poured cold water on your neck? At first, you might startle, maybe even scold the one who did it, but then you suddenly feel that’s exactly what you’d been standing in the sun for, perhaps you’d been standing your whole life just for that.

That’s how she poured into my life—wild and astounding, asking for nothing, careless as could be. Now I can’t even recall if she was beautiful. In her eyes, there was an inquisitive sadness, a sliver of sky, and a bit of rustling. It felt as though those eyes were always gazing at life, asking, “Why...?” She came uninvited, wrapped herself around my days like a grapevine curling up its wooden stakes, offering me all the clusters of her youth—everything she had. And she asked for nothing. Nothing at all. Until the very end, I couldn’t convince her that I loved her too. Perhaps I didn’t truly believe it then, for I kept reminding myself every moment: I have no right to love her. And maybe that’s why, when she laid her whole life at my feet, I kept glancing at my watch; she brought me the full nakedness of her youth, while I closed the curtains and turned off the light. I never went out in public with her, and the world never found out that I was finally happy. Our love was akin to a fire we tried to cover with our hands, though the flame was scorching and uncontainable.

I’m afraid my beginning is dragging on too long.

I was ill before I died. All day long, my mother, my brothers, and my wife—sorrowful and pale—remained by my side, though in those last days, we no longer understood or recognized one another. Only she was missing, the one I waited for and loved most. She couldn’t come to our house. My brothers knew I would die; the doctor had told them so. They believed it, perhaps even expected it—sad and resigned. Only my mother didn’t believe it, though not because she was unaware of what the doctor had said…

Perhaps it’s best if I tell you about my last day. By then, I already knew I would die that very day. That’s why I wanted to laugh when the doctor tried to give me an injection, examined my stomach, and then prescribed some medicine: “Give him this twice a day for a week.” I didn’t blame him—this calm, warm-handed man; he just didn’t understand me, and no doctor understands that people only die when they’re truly exhausted. Someone might grow tired at eighteen, and another at seventy. I was tired. But I wasn’t sad. My bookshelf was in front of me, though I didn’t think about the fact that my fingers would no longer touch those books. I knew that other fingers would, and for books, it makes no difference. Books are a bit like gossipers—they reveal their secrets to anyone, so I knew that they’d share them with someone else, too. With sadness I only looked at the acacia tree rustling below my window and at the sky in the distance. I wished I could take with me, to that place beneath the ground, just a bit of that rustling and a sliver of sky. But I knew it was impossible.

“I’ll go grab some cigarettes,” I suddenly heard my older brother say, even though I knew he didn’t smoke. He was either heading out to send a telegram to our relatives or he simply didn’t want to see me pass. I understood and said goodbye with a glance, knowing we would never meet again in this world. He left. I asked my wife to take our child outside for some fresh air. “I’ll take him,” she replied, not realizing she’d never hear my voice again. I also said something to my mother, but she didn’t leave. This saddened me deeply, and I slowly closed my eyes. I don’t know how much time passed, only that I suddenly heard my mother’s gut-wrenching scream and knew I had already died. Through my closed eyelids, I saw everyone come rushing in, saw them carry my mother out—the first to sense my death, though the only one who hadn’t believed it was near.

After that, everything unfolded as it always does.

For two days, people gathered around me, and I saw many familiar faces I hadn’t seen in years. They cried or stood somber and silent, then left. Sometimes, those sounds or that silence wore me out, and I wanted to ask them to talk or be quiet. But there was such calm within me that I didn’t dare to open my eyes. With a strange sense of wonder I began to observe people—many of whom I thought I knew well. Not knowing I was watching, they felt no need to pretend. I recalled what I used to think of them when I was alive, and, truthfully, at times, I felt embarrassed by those old thoughts and judgments. But that wasn’t what preoccupied me the most; every day, I searched for the one who never came. I knew she couldn’t simply come and stand quietly by my side like the others. I knew that as soon as she entered, everyone would know. My heart ached with longing; I missed her deeply, even thought of asking my mother to call her, but I was too worn out to open my eyes. I was so tired, and for the first time, I could think of her in peace, knowing no one would interrupt—not with a phone call, nor a glance, nor love, nor hate. I thought of her even when they carried me down my street, the street where I’d grown up, loved, and grown weary.

The street was full of sunlight, but for the first time, I didn’t feel hot; instead, I wanted even more of the sun, bigger and warmer. I looked at my street: trams, cars, people stood with a kind of sadness that wore my heart out. I didn’t want to be the reason behind anyone’s sadness; thus, I didn’t feel bad at all when I saw a boy and girl under a tree, holding hands and smiling into each other’s eyes. At first, I thought they hadn’t noticed the procession, but then the girl looked directly at me and smiled again. The boy looked too, with kind and happy eyes. I wanted to smile back, maybe even wave, but I was too tired, and besides, if I lifted my hand, the flowers would fall.

Then we walked into the cemetery, and that’s when I saw her. I saw her and smiled—or rather, that smile had been there on my face the whole time because I’d been thinking of her in my final moments. For two days, through my closed eyelids, I saw that no one understood that smile; some even looked at it strangely and confused. But at the graveside, she understood; I even saw her smile back at me. Then her figure was obscured from my view by my relatives, my loved ones, and I remembered our last night together…

We were walking through the darkness. Only in darkness could we love each other freely in the open world, which is why we despised not just electric lights but even the stars when they shone too brightly. We were walking through the dark, and she wanted me to say that she was the one I loved most in the world. I was silent, perhaps already sensing that I was too tired of keeping that sentence unsaid, one I longed to cry out through all the speakers of the world. I was tired—tired of this darkness, of the lights, of everything—yet she waited. And later, under the ground, I deeply regretted that I hadn’t said those words meant only for her, belonging only to her, but it was already too late.

As I reminisced about our last night together, they started to lower me into the ground. I caught a final glimpse of her between my relatives' feet and heard her gaze. "Should I come with you?" she asked. "Should I?" That’s how I used to hear her voice through the receiver back then. In that final moment, I realized that if I just nodded, she would come, but she was only twenty-one, so I replied, "Stay." She heard my gaze, heard silently, just as she always had. Soon, she was obscured from view, and I realized I was already beneath the ground. After that, I heard the familiar sounds of stones and soil. And then, nothing more; only the thick fragrance of flowers lingered, frozen between me and the earth, then, thinking of her, I grew numb: I tried to recall the date and the day, but could only keep track of the calendar for a week or two.

Thus, days turned into months, and perhaps years went by. And I remember the words I never said to her, to the world, which is why I began to murmur this belated confession from beneath the earth. I began to exist through those unsaid words. Each day, I tried to remember how long our love lasted. A few... months? days? years?…

One day, I looked up and saw the sky once more; they had torn down our cemetery and replaced it with a garden of grasses and flowers. I had become a flower. I looked around in excitement, eager to find her and give her the words that were meant for her, belonged only to her... But she was not there; all around me were unfamiliar flowers that I did not recognize. I realized I must have been beneath the earth for perhaps an entire century, and she, too, might now be a flower, a blade of grass, or a handful of grain—who knows where in all the fields of the world... I was ready to search the globe for her, but I was just a flower, and I died as soon as I tried to lift my feet from the soil. I died for the last time. When I once more turned into soil, only then did I understand why flowers die so soon: all flowers might once have been people who rose from the earth in search of that someone, only to not find them and wither away, dying one last time. I realized that nothing in this world can be found twice, and I longed to cry out with all my floral voice, “Don’t let go, people, don’t lose what you have!”

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 4)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count : 1.2k

Warnings: a lot of angst, reader says demeaning things about herself, language, not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

“It’s alright I’m his fiancée.” Y/n really wanted to scoff at the woman’s claim but then her gaze fell to the woman’s left hand. Her ring finger was adorned with a ring, a single sapphire gleamed at the center, encased by tiny diamonds. That was the kind of ring she’d seen in Mrs. Winchester’s finger. That was same kind of ring that she’s seen in Sam’s fiancée, Jess’ finger on multiple occasions. It was the Winchester family’s traditional heirloom, passed down through generations, a symbol of their legacy. She then looked at her own and realised that any one would believe this woman over her, if she ever claimed to be Dean’s fiancée. Y/n felt a lump forming in her throat but she took a deep breath and cleared her throat before speaking,

“I understand, however I can’t let you go in without permission, it’ll risk my job.” She forced a smile. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” She added gesturing to the door and to her relief the woman nodded in agreement.

Y/n knocked on the door while the woman sat on the waiting couch, Dean’s voice was heard from behind the door as he gave permission to enter. She went inside the room and Dean looked delighted to see her, but his smile faltered when he noticed her expression.

“Mr Winchester, there’s someone waiting for you outside but she doesn’t have an appointment. Shall I send her in?” She said monotonously and he furrowed his brow.

“Who is it?” Dean asked curiously.

“Your fiancée.” She said calmly and his eyes widened in surprise. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times unable to form a coherent reply. He understood the look on her face when she first entered the room. When he didn’t reply for a few minutes she added, “I’ll send her in.” With that, she left.

Dean was quick on his feet and followed her out the room and his gaze landed on the woman sitting on the couch. The woman stood up and swiftly made her way towards him.

“Dean!!” She exclaimed happily throwing her arms around his neck.

“Rachel? What are you doing here?” He asked and Y/n watched the scene unfold in front of her eyes. So he did know her. She wanted to look away from them but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the couple and she desperately wished she did when she saw Rachel peck his lips. She grimaced before turning back to the computer screen holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.

"I thought we could get lunch together," she said, her voice soft with a hint of hope.

“I’m busy!” Dean replied tersely. He didn’t want to have lunch with her, he wanted her to leave as soon as possible so he could explain to Y/n. So he could gather her in his arms and tell her she’s the only one and this a misunderstanding.

“Some other time?” Rachel asked and Dean nodded not wanting to create a scene. He was expecting her to throw a fit and demand his attention but he was surprised that she agreed so easily. Rachel turned to leave but then she stopped at Y/n’s desk, “Oh, you’re engaged too?” She said to Y/n excitedly pointing to her ring her. “Congratulations.” She smiled.

“Oh this?” Y/n replied showing her hand to her, “I’m not engaged.” She said softly and Rachel’s face turned to one of confusion. “I deal with businessmen on a daily basis and rich men think they can make me their mistress because I’m just a secretary. So this keeps them away.” She explained, glancing at Dean who was seething beside Rachel. Hah take that Winchester.

“That’s so inappropriate and just unacceptable. Dean, You shouldn’t do business with such people.” Rachel told Dean and he nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “I’ll get going but—” She looked at name plate on her desk, “Y/n, don’t hesitate to tell Dean if anyone does it again.”

“I won’t. Thank you.” She smiled at the redhead. Y/n wished this woman was a cunning bitch, it would’ve been easy to hate her. But at this moment this moment the only person she hates is someone she swore to Love for the rest of her life. Rachel reciprocated the gesture and kissed Dean on the cheek before taking her leave.

“Inside. Now.” Dean growled at Y/n and turned on his heels to go back to his office. Y/n rolled her eyes before following him inside. She watched him pace back and forth, his jaw clenched. “What the fuck was that?” He asked in a dangerously low tone.

“She’s beautiful. Perfectly matches with you.” Y/n commented.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you behaving like this?” Dean snapped.

“I’ve never been a mistress before. I don’t know how they act.” She replied crossing her arms and Dean was sure he’d have steam coming out of his ears. He was fuming. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.

“Call yourself that one more time and I’m not sure what I’ll do.” He challenged making her scoff.

“Drop the act Dean. I can’t believe you went this far to keep the ruse.” She said gesturing to the ring on her finger. She went to remove it from her finger but he pulled her hand away.

“Don’t you dare.” Dean growled. “She’s not my fiancée, you are.” He yelled not caring if anyone heard.

“Really? And who knows that except you and me?” She asked rhetorically and Dean didn’t have an answer because she was right. “One look at the ring on her finger and anyone could tell she’s a Winchester woman.” She exclaimed.

“That’s.. it’s complicated.” Dean looked away breathing heavily. He didn’t want her to find out this way. He had hoped to handle the mess before she found out, but here he was now, in an even deeper disaster. She glared at him and moved past him to leave but he stopped her. “Baby please don’t do this.” He said softly.

“You have a meeting in five, Mr. Winchester.” Was all she said before she left.

Y/n beelined towards the women’s room and broke down finally. She leaned against the sink, her reflection distorted by the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her usually immaculate appearance was in disarray; her blouse was wrinkled, and her carefully styled hair was now a tangled mess. Her eyes, red and swollen, stared vacantly at the mirror as if trying to make sense of the shattered image before her.

Her breath hitched as she tried to steady herself. She clenched and unclenched her fists, the sharp edge of her engagement ring digging into her palm, a small distraction from the overwhelming hurt, but a stinging reminder at the same time. She quickly removed it from her hand and pocketed the ring. She really wanted to flush it down the toilet but it was expensive and she wanted to return it to Dean. She’d decided that she’d only talk to him if he comes clean about the situation or it’s the end of whatever they had.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01

[missmarveledsblog]

Not just a flower child huh? ( logan howlett x reader ) part 3

summary : y/n finding her past haunting her more and more , people are starting to notice the way logan is with the new resident. when she gets upset she find she may have another gift to which leads to needing answers to what the lab done to her facing her fear of being tested on while her brother decides to make food from their childhood .

warnings : nightmare , flash backs, slow burnish , angst and fluff , google translated russian ( feel free to correct me ) , grammatical errors ( sorry )

( previous part)

Two months she was free  of the lab and yet she was still so out of place, she could talk to the kids and her brother mainly in russian as speaking english sometimes was bit exhausting . she did do the hangout thing with rogue both sitting in rogues room reading  but mostly in silence, short conversations but no more than a few sentences . she also would do same with people in the mansion unsure of how to socialize much, she also tied scott up couple more times although each time the vine got looser to point he was able to get himself out. She did love how more open the kids where lia and ana seemed love the attention of the other little girls and luka and henry loved the rough play with the other boys .  she couldn’t ask more than that , the kids actually getting to be kids . it was easier to talk to the younger residents , the older one though she could tell they were patient and it wasn’t them it was just hard concept of having people around . the greenhouse was her favorite place by far being able to have that quiet time and still watch the world around her it was best of both situations . she was even able to bring produce to the kitchen she learned to let it grow slower when they found themselves overstocked at one point but still it felt nice being able to contribute. 

The night though they never change each night she still would wake in a tear filled , panting and sweaty state . the screams were still as loud , the images still vibrant and vivid. Tonight she didn’t even bother trying to go back asleep . tiredly she dragged herself to the kitchen what she wasn’t expecting was her tea already on the counter made along with a blanket placed beside it and the back door open . wrapping the fuzzy soft material around her shoulder she took the mug in her hand and headed out only to smell that familiar scent. 

“ though you might enjoy looking at the stars without the glass in the way” logan turned to see her furrowed brow soften even a hint of a smile on her lips . 

“ don’t you ever sleep” she asked coming to his side as her eyes looked up at the sparkling stars . 

“ could ask you the same thing but i’m guessing your in the same boat” he turned back to look up at the sky. 

“ is sleep supposed to haunt you” she asked . 

“ i guess for us it does but it shouldn’t” he nodded . 

“ is the sky always like this ?” she asked again almost like a whisper. 

“ like what?” 

“ dark yet beautiful , i never seen anything like this in such alone time i used to think of it but it never was like this” . 

“ did you never get to see the outside world while you where there?” he asked chancing his arm on getting her to open up . 

“ not the sky no only a small window that would show if it was night or day” she mused. 

“ you made it not as bad for those kids , i mean without you they would of been well worse” he said looking at her seeing her eyes go glassy . 

“ i didn’t want them to feel like i did , i grew up in with those people , i know what that was like and i tried to make sure they didn’t” she sniffled looking up . “ i failed though” she added. 

“ you need to stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over”. 

“ it was my fault i tried to escape , i tried to leave and if i wasn’t knocked out i could of saved the others” she finally said running off back into the house . 

Morning finally came but she didn’t sleep not one bit , the past played in her head on loop almost like it was her own form of torture and she couldn’t get it out of her head nothing not even the stories she read could stop it . she walked down to the kitchen eyes filled with exhaustion , filled with sorrow and sadness as she got a cup of coffee hoping that it would help. It wasn’t missed on the other her mood as anything plant like around her either crumpled to dust or began to rot. Leaving the with her cup she headed to the living room the plant in the hall wilting and withering in her trail as she passed by the professor and storm . 

“ hey you ok” storm asked. 

“ tired is all “ she nodded leaving to the living room . 

“ you go see that the kids have eaten” professor gave sad smile as he turned to the living room watching her head hang low almost hiding her face from anyone who might pass by. 

“ you know dear i don’t need to look in your mind to know something is wrong” he called making her look up . 

“ you look in my mind and you will change how you feel about me” she sniffled . 

“ i have seen, your thoughts are loud and it does not change a thing , you are not the monster you think you are” he came closer as she moved back into the sofa. 

“ i think you are wrong on this one , i could of just stayed if i didn’t move they would of been here too” she looked down at the book . 

“ how do you know that?” .

“ because i would of been able to protect them , stopped the bastards getting near” . 

“ you tried to save them all , you risked your own life time and time again that is not action of a monster” he told her. 

“ and yet they are dead and i am not” 

“  four of them are here , thriving because of you” 

“ and the scream of five haunt my every waking moment “ she looked him in the eyes showing him what it was that haunted her , showing him it all .

“ this changes nothing it just shows you been through more than you should of ever been and that blame you hold on yourself is misplaced” he shook his head. 

“ i don’t think this is something that we will ever agree on” she laughed dryly . 

“ you poor thing” jean gasped as she looked up seeing them all standing there .

“ please spare me your pity all off you i am a monster” her voice raise as the lights flickered around her even taking her by surprise. “ great something new” she huffed. 

“ how many powers do you have” scott asked absent mindedly .

“ that is one question i do not know the answer to, i’ve been with them almost two decades and they pumped every concoction into my veins , the mind stuff and elemental was what the rest is them” she sighed. 

“ we can run some test and see , it wont be like the lab it will be pain free and you can stop anytime or even say no” jean said to her. 

“ anytime?” she asked considering it needing to know herself. 

“ anytime” the redhead confirmed. 

“ when?” she asked 

“ now or anytime you want you are in control with this here and it always your choice” . 

“ is this in his book” she finally asked a small smile on her face. 

“ is it working?” jean smirked as y/n nodded. “ well then no it not” . 

“ you should take notes gold retriever… lets do this i need to know” she stood wiping the tears from her face. 

“She really haunted by her past huh ?” scott asked as they walked into the kitchen. 

“ very much so it’s not pretty and she blames herself for it” professor solemnly spoke. 

“ what happened ?” piotr  spoke up yet he didn’t know if he was truly ready to hear the extent of the horror his little sister face. 

“ it’s not my story to tell , maybe when she is ready she might share it but now we just have to let her deal with her feelings let her know she is not a monster she believes herself to be” . 

“ i have a idea it not much and its not going to heal her but i can make something she love as a child , our grandmothers stew no matter what  we need to get new vegetables and other things though” piotr looked around the room . 

“ logan and scott could you get what he needs?” storm asked . 

“ of course he will .. and me too” scott smirked . 

“ whats that suppose to mean”. 

“ meaning you follow her around like  the loyal what she call you again doberman” he chuckled. 

“ oh fuck off” logan rolled his eyes as the other tried hiding their knowing smirks.  “ let just get this shit” he huffed walking out the door. 

“ i don’t know how i feel about this” Piotr brows furrowed. 

“ you’ll get used to it” storm patted his shoulder. 

She sat on the metal bed looking around the lab nervously it was nothing like the ones she used to be in but still it made nervous regardless . 

“ we don’t have to do this now we can wait til you're feeling better” jean told her softly feeling the girl nervous state radiate off of her.  

“ it just the first lab i’ve been in i’ll be ok” she shook her head. 

“ if you want to stop anytime let me know ok remember this is all your choice” the redhead reminded her. 

“ lets just get started” . 

“ ok i’m going to take a blood sample if that’s ok..  Hey let me get your brother or the professor maybe logan?” she didn't miss the smile on the redheads mouth at the last one. 

“ my brother will do” she blushed. 

“ what is going on with you and logan?” .

“ nothing really he’s there at night guess he has nightmares too” she shrugged as jean smile grew wider. 

“ i don’t think thats it , logan stopped having those a while ago  not completely gone but he rarely has them “ .

“ then why does he come to the kitchen?” her head tilted . 

“ that’s one you’ll have to figure out yourself “ jean winked. “ i’ll go get your brother” . 

“ no just do it , can i hold your hand on your coat” she asked nervously yet her mind was no working over time at the new information . 

 “ of course i’ll be quick and it will only be a little pinch and done ready” she asked as y/n nodded . she winced feeling the little sting as she grabbed the womans coat only to feel the hand replace the fabric . “ there we are done that part now i’m going to scan you and put these on you it won’t hurt one bit and but remember we can stop anytime” . 

“ i’m ok i’m not scared anymore” y/n smiled . 

“ scotts right your smile is pretty” jean winked as she went to put the vile of her blood in the analysis machine . 

“ your boyfriend is not as annoying but don’t tell him i said that” y/n huffed out with a laugh. 

“ my lips are sealed , you ready for next part” . 

“ born ready” she nodded. 

It was nearly dinner time when they emerge from the lab when the scent hit her nose . one that brought her back into the past this time it was a happier time . suddenly she was the little girl who spent her days on  the rural farm lands of russia  the smell of her grandmothers stew would signal the womans arrival making her run as fast as her little legs would take her into the small farm house.  She would almost knock her grandmother over as she jumped into her arms . when she was there it meant her parent weren’t cruel  , they wouldn’t be so hard and harsh on her and her big brother in the presence of the elderly woman .  she also would get spoiled rotten with treats and toys , pretty dresses . it was her most cherished times one she would use to keep her going when she felt like giving up . if it wasn’t for her brother and grandmother well she didn’t know how she would of been in the world, now she could smell that memory in real time one . 

“ он пахнет ее. ( it smells like hers) “ she walked in seeing her brother standing at the stove stirring the pot. 

“я пытался довести это до совершенства.

 ( i tried to make it to perfection) “he chuckled as he pulled  the big pot off bringing it into the dinning room . she couldn’t help but almost float following after and she couldn’t help the tears that fell down her cheeks she was surprise she still had some left. 

“ я сделал хуже?

 ( did i make it worse?)” piotr asked worriedly . 

“ нет, это прекрасно, это слезы счастья.

 ( no it’s perfect , these are happy tears)” she wiped her face. “ happy tears” she said in english as they all looked at her. 

“ smells good” scott stood as he handed her the ladle and piotr handed her a bowl. 

She got herself a generous helping sitting as they all filled their own. The moment it hit her taste buds she moaned happily .

“ taste  like hers” she smiled once more. 

“ what is this , so good “ rogue asked as others hummed their agreement . 

“ Solyanka but our grandmothers version” piotr explained as y/n was too busy wolfing it down . 

“ taste like home” she said grabbing more  as Piotr sat a little taller with pride . 

“ do you remember any of her other dishes” storm asked. 

“ i have her recipe book” piotr said softly . 

“ wait you have it” y/n almost dived over table excitedly. 

“ yes in my room she sent it too me so i wouldn’t forget the good food” he chuckled. 

“ that means we can make her Borodinsky” she gasped animatedly probably the first some of them seen her so excited, so happy . 

“ yeah i can give it to you later” piotr smiled happily .

part 4

taglist : @oscarissac2099 @ayamenimthiriel

[vethbrenatto]

TLOVM Season 3 Retrospective

I am not a campaign plot purist. The concept of fitting a meandering D&D campaign into a 12-episode season of television is, by all accounts, ridiculous. TLOVM is based on the campaign, not a blanket retelling, and we've all known that from the start. In fact, that's why I'm not particularly worried about the comments about the M9 series that CR has released, how the plot will change vastly. D&D, especially in worlds DMed by Matt Mercer, is extremely sand-boxy and will not one-to-one translate to the time allotted in TV and movies. VM is actually the campaign that I think translates the best to the medium without much modification as it has very clear arcs and corresponding antagonists (Briarwoods, Chroma Conclave, Vecna).

That said, the core behind plot changes is that the narrative heart should remain. The character beats, the character arcs. And I do think Season 3 dropped the ball with this.

Let's start with those that I think were handled better- Vex and Percy. Percy's relationship with both Ripley and Vex, I think was handled excellently. We see Percy's journey to move beyond vengeance and try to grasp something real beyond it, the start of the man who just wants to be a clockmaker. Vex struggles to be loved and deal with her fear that's she's a curse to those she loves and then her reluctance to do it while Percy was still alive, thinking she's missed her shot.

Vax and Keyleth have an odd role switch in this season, with Kiki (initially) hopping into the Vaxleth relationship while Vax feels it's too risky to get involved? This just feels weird to me, as a lot of Vax's characterization is so centered around still pulling for love in the face of death and adversity. Outside of Vax, Kiki gets a late season arc about believing in herself and coming into her own as a leader, but I felt this was somehow both redundant and underplayed. Keyleth's fire plain aramente in Season 2 felt reminiscent of her E10/11 scenes in Season 3, so I got a bit of deja vu. But also the stem of her belief in herself in this season, her instinct about Raishan is so underwhelming. Keyleth's moral compass and instict is a pivotal character beat for her, she's the only one who clocked Raishan and that matters. The others disregarded her opinion and that matters. And yes, it got brought up, but the take away ends up being just tying back to Vax and "You have ties to this world. Don't be afraid to let people in." ?? These are two separate issues, my guy. (On this point, I feel I must point out that while plot changes are necessary, Keyleth spent an episode and a half doing a scrying spell. Could she not have been better utilized exploring her emotional connection and friendship with Percy in the Vax/Vex chasing down Ripley plotline?)

Grog is absolutely shafted in this season. I can't say it's shocking- Grog is a simple guy (Likes ale, fighting, loves his friends) and I don't expect him to reach the character depths others do. But he had a very clear place he could’ve soared this season- yes, the Scanlan stuff. Not only is the “fix him” character beat a muffled whimper, but he’s left to comedically hold Scanlan’s limp body while Pike goes off to save him (by finding Kaylie). Grog could’ve easily slid into that side story, Kaylie could’ve heard not only from Pike about Scanlan and why he’s important and good and worth saving, but also from Grog, a man who cares about very few people in the world, but so very deeply when he does and Scanlan is one of those people he cares about.

I enjoyed the amount of Pike content this season (that’s my girl!!!) and I won’t get super into because I already made a post about it, but I just didn’t really get the crisis of faith arc for her. She’s already experienced a crisis of faith in a prior season and it’s not something I feel like campaign!Pike would’ve gone through, even IF Ashley was full time at the table. It weirdly almost feels like ground building for the current Bells Hells/Downfall/Calamity takes on the Critical Role gods as opposed to how Pike would feel about her deity, specifically. I did enjoy her relationship to Scanlan in the season and her support of Scanlan building a relationship with his daughter, it felt like a nice connection to Scanlan asking Pike to be Kaylie’s person if he died during the campaign.

And Scanlan. Oh, Scanlan. Just… confused, is all I can say. The show has had Bard’s Lament seeds for multiple seasons, including in S3 itself, and then just doesn’t go through with it. I simply don’t agree that it couldn’t work in the medium- what it feels like is that this is the more palatable story to tell. The resentment is so important to his character development. The show makes this all about Kaylie and fatherhood, which is of course a huge part of ABL, but the lament is also about Scanlan himself (in fact, I'd argue that Kaylie is more of a loose factor in it; his promise to kaylie [another egregious cut in the story] being a spur of the scene and Percy calling him out changing the trajectory of what Scanlan leaving actually was. it's about Kaylie, but it's kind of not). It's about feeling neglected or undervalued. There are scenes in TLOVM throughout alluding to this (a couple with Vex in particular I can think of in 1, 2, AND 3) but then no payoff? That part of the character development is completely swept under the rug for both Scanlan AND those around him. Pivotal moments in the campaign have been honored in TLOVM, even with shifts in them (the arrows in Ripley's heart and mouth, Keyleth stands up to Raishan, "My heart is yours"), but when the defining campaign moment is Scanlan's, it's completely changed. I simply think this is too far outside of the original intent and character beat to pretend it's honoring the moment.

So, yeah, I really don’t care if Scanlan just goes down instead of gets fully resurrected. Or that the fire plain and the trek to the city of Dis is combined into one journey. Those are just plot points.

What gets me is that these character beats, the meat and heart of the story, are getting shifted dramatically and not in ways that I feel are aiding the narrative.

ALL THAT SAID, this is going to sound a lot more negative and hatery than I really feel. This post is mostly of summation of criticisms, when there were of course, many highlights in the season. TLOVM continues to be a beautiful, well done show and would not keep getting renewed if it was a flop. But there are certainly things that I think could be done better.

[its-time-to-write]

Hi y’all! This is my last unprompted angsty fic for a little! Gonna go back to our usually scheduled hijinks that are sitting in my request pile, I wanted to do this one first. I write all these as a way to deal with things that happen in my own life, whether it’s stressing about school and work, stupid romance, great romance, family, health, whatever, and I wanted to say (yet again) thank you for all the support. Sometimes I still can’t believe that you all like what I write but hey, there ya go

It’s funny, because my most popular fics are the ones that have been written directly out of my actual life. The ones that start out hard-to-deal-with, or with real, palpable heartbreak. The endings are often different because real life isn’t guaranteed a happy ending, but I’m allowed to take the past and see what it would be like if things went differently.

My characterization of Jamie is based on the only person I’ve ever really loved, which is why I can write his voice so clearly. I first watched Ted Lasso and was surprised at how similar they were, stupid hair and all. A lot of these fics are my way of archiving our story and immortalizing parts of it, as well as reminding myself that the love was there. It didn’t last and it wasn’t supposed to, but it was there.

Now, what’s real and what’s fiction? I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I will say that it’s more than you might think and less than you might hope for.

So if you read this current fic and think, “huh, that was a really specific premise,” well I got news for you! It is. I’m in the first part of my journey on this, the early stages, and this story is not the way I want things to go for me. But I’m hoping that by creating a good ending out of a rough beginning, I can better face whatever lies ahead for me whether I approach it on my own two feet or with the assistance of some really sick wheels.

Anyway, enjoy this or skip it, it won’t hurt my feelings!

how to love being alive

Jamie’s at training when he gets the call. He barely registers the words on the other side when he’s cursing something awful, enough to make Roy Kent blush, and saying something about an emergency before speeding out the door. He pauses for a moment to look up an address in his phone, then he’s tearing out of the parking lot in a manner that puts Colin to shame. 

To summarize, he’s not acting like himself. 

He pulls up to a chiropractor of all places and the girl at the front desk must be able to tell who he’s here for because she just points to a door down the hall. Jamie’s pretty sure he’s never moved this quick in his life and wonders if this could translate to the pitch. Sure he’s fast, but he could always be faster. 

He bursts through the door to see you borderline catatonic, staring at the floor while a doctor pats your arm. She looks at Jamie and says, “Let’s chat for a minute outside,” before he has a chance to say a single thing. Jamie can’t tear his eyes away from you as the doctor leads him out and shuts the door. 

“Thought emergency contacts were for like, hospitals and shit,” he says. 

The chiropractor shakes her head. Jamie notes that her name tag says “Dr. Hadley,” and has a vague memory of you mentioning her a few months ago. 

God, it feels like a lifetime ago. 

“We’re not confident she’s in a fit state to get herself home,” Dr. Hadley says. “Her headspace is a little messed up, which is to be expected. Usually people come to these types of appointments with some moral support.”

Jamie asks, “What kinds of appointments?” and Dr. Hadley tilts her head at him. 

“You are Mr. Tartt, aren’t you?” she asks and Jamie just scoffs because he can’t decide between responding obviously, or telling her no, he’s not Mr. Tartt, that’s his father. He’s just Jamie. 

Dr. Hadley knows who he is because she doesn’t live in a hole in the ground, so she doesn’t ask for identification. She takes his scoff as permission to keep talking, so she says, “She’s here for her MRI results. We’ve been in the process of treating a protrusion on her spine.”

Jamie is positive everyone in this office must think he’s on drugs because Dr. Hadley is talking like he’s supposed to know this, but for the life of him he knows you’d never said a thing. 

“Your girlfriend has been in a severe amount of pain over the last few months, and we’ve finally been able to see the extent of the problem. Apparently she thought it would just go away, but it never did. So now she’s here with us.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie says automatically. Because it’s true, innit? You’re not. You’ve been broken up for a month because he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take the irritation at attending his matches and the tossing and turning in bed at night and the fact that you were wound so tight that you’d snap at the most minor offenses. 

You hadn’t been surprised when Jamie said he couldn’t do it anymore, it’s over, and at the time he had wished that you’d shown just a tiny sliver of emotion. After all, a year and two months is a long time to be with someone for you to coldly slide him his key and then turn away as though he were a stranger. 

He could have sworn there was a glimmer of tears in your eyes, but they’d looked that way for a bit now so maybe it was just allergies. There’s no reason for you to have been in the verge of tears for the entire month before the breakup, right?

Right. 

But he can’t think about that now because Dr. Hadley is frowning at him in a way that so comically reminds him of Roy’s sister that he has to bite back a laugh. 

Everything’s all twisted. 

“I certainly hope your split was amicable,” Dr. Hadley says. “You’re the only one listed as her emergency contact. She needs someone to get her home safely.”

“Right,” says Jamie. “Yes. Fuck. Right. Um, what exactly is wrong with her?” 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head. “That’s her personal information to share with you at her prerogative. And we should probably go see her, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be alone for long.”

Jamie snorts at that. This doctor doesn’t know you at all. If you’ve received any type of bad news the last thing you want is people hanging around. 

Jamie used to pride himself on being the only one you’d let into the bad-new bubble. 

You don’t count with those other people, you’d said once while wrapped around Jamie so tight he thought he’d have to call Ted to bring a crowbar. You said, I don’t have to pretend around you. I don’t ever get tired of you.

Jamie bitterly thinks that that statement turned out to be a lie, but he shakes it off because you’ve only been separated a month, and apparently he’s still your emergency contact for a doctor he didn’t know you had been seeing and fuck if you didn’t look like the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen. He’ll pretend it’s ok for as long as it takes to get you home and comfortable, and then he’s calling this office to get his number switched off. 

So he follows Dr. Hadley back into the room as she softly says your name in order to break whatever trance has you studying the carpet like your final exam is in ten minutes. 

You can barely look at her as she whispers something about going home and being gentle, to which you nod and finally look at Jamie. 

He wonders if you recognize him, because the stare you have is so vacant that you might as well be looking at a stranger. 

“Is she on drugs?” he asks because it looks like you’re on drugs. 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head and holds out her arm to help you up. “No, she’s just in a lot of pain. And emotional distress. It’s a killer combo, and she’ll need extra gentle handling for a while. No sitting for too long, no bending, no lifting. There’s a back support at the front desk for you to take.”

Jamie thinks he hears something pointed in the way Dr. Hadley says, extra gentle. What, like he doesn’t know how bad an injury can take you out? He’s in the Premier League for fuck’s sake. He knows how to deal with a strained muscle. 

Dr. Hadley transfers your arm over to Jamie’s so smoothly that he barely understands what’s happening as she ushers you both out the door, thrusting a small foam roll into Jamie’s free hand. 

“For lumbar support,” she says. “Won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Jamie’s pretty sure he’s said thanks as you climb in the car and then he’s in the drivers seat and it’s dead quiet. 

“Right,” he says to the silence. “What the fuck.”

You’re picking at your nails something fierce. Jamie has to fight the urge to take your hand in his. A month of separation is not long enough for this shit. 

“Can you just drive?” you ask in a broken voice. “I don’t want to be sitting for longer than I have to.”

There’s a new pitch in your voice, one Jamie’s never heard before, so he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t turn on the radio or a playlist or a podcast or anything, just drives in silence. He knows if it’s quiet long enough, you’ll talk. 

He’s the opposite. He doesn’t need time to crack wide open, just a kind touch or a soft glance and he’s an open book. He was always shocked how early into your relationship you’d figured that out. A soft, “What’s on your mind, Jaim?” and he was unloading about whatever stress or fear he had. 

He’s two minutes away from your flat when you break the silence. “I have gradual onset paralysis,” you say in a voice devoid of emotion. “‘Gradual onset’ means it happens over time. Paralysis means, well…paralysis.”

Jamie can hear what you’re saying and he understands it, but what catches him is the way you’re like nothing more than a hollow body. Not cracking a joke, not picking a fight. Just- empty. 

Jamie says a long and drawn out “Fuuuckk,” because what else can you say? It’s not really his business to comfort you or to pry, except he’s the one the doctor called, so he allows himself one question. 

“How did it happen?”

Last he knew, you were healthy as a horse. 

“Two disks in my spine popped,” you reply, still in that same awful emotionless voice. “They’re not really sure how, could’ve been any number of things. Anyway, it got into my nerves. And my spinal cord. And it’s messing things up and it’s only going to get worse. The scans were to see if they could operate, because sometimes you can remove the shards. Or whatever it is. But I guess they can’t, because if they tried I’d definitely be paralyzed. So all I can do now is be in pain and wait for my legs to shut down.”

Jamie doesn’t know how to respond to any of that but he’s saved from thinking of an adequate response because he’s at your flat. 

It was smart of you not to sell it when you’d moved in with Jamie. He wonders if you knew the breakup was inevitable. 

He hops out and opens the door like a gentleman, offering his hand like he’s some Mr. Darcy-type shit, except you had both agreed that Roy was Mr. Darcy and he was Bingley. So it doesn’t fit at all except as soon as you’re done clutching his hand so you can get out without unnecessary pain, his hand flexes itself like he’s in that damn movie. 

It wasn’t even a conscious choice, just a thing his hand decided to do, and he definitely thinks he’s going to have to talk to Ted about this. Or maybe Sam. Sam knows shit and is good at empathy. Maybe he’ll know what to say when your ex-girlfriend tells you she’s not going to walk ever again. 

Jamie follows you to the door as you fiddle with the lock and push it open with a sigh. For a moment he doesn’t know if he should go inside, but it smells like honey and cinnamon because it’s the beginning of fall and he thinks that he should at least make sure you’ll be alright. 

He notices you’re moving weird. All stiff, like. You’re trying to get an icepack out of the freezer but you can’t maneuver in a way that’s comfortable so Jamie grabs it and hands it to you. 

You mumble, “Thanks,” and Jamie catches a glimpse of the perpetual glimmer in your eye. 

“D’you need me to call someone?” he asks. “I can get Keeley down here. Or fucking… Ted. Or Colin.” He doesn’t say Sam, because he needs Sam. He can’t talk to Sam if he’s here with you. 

You shake your head. Jamie wonders if it hurts to talk, but he remembers how much you hate the sound of your voice when you’re crying. 

You take a slow, shallow breath to collect yourself. “I’m ok,” you finally say. “Not much anyone can do, and you’ve got training. I- I didn’t know they’d call you. I still have to switch your number with someone else. I’m probably going to ask Keeley since my family’s still far away.”

“Right,” Jamie says. Not much else to say. Except- 

“You were seeing that bone doctor when we were together, and you didn’t fucking say anything?”

It’s accusatory and he knows it, but he can’t for the life of him say it kinder. Ted’s always on about communication and shit, and that is not communication. 

You shuffle over to the couch and use it to help you lay face down in the floor. The icepack is precariously balanced on the small of your back. 

“Didn’t know how to tell you,” comes your muffled voice. “Least, I figured out how to tell you too late. What was I gonna say, ‘Sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you for four weeks, I’ve got shit floating around in my spine that makes me hurt so bad I want to die?’ Sounds fucking stupid.”

Jamie wants to say, Swear jar because it’s a long-standing joke, but he catches the words right before they reach the tip of his tongue. 

“You could’ve said something,” he replies instead. “Chronic pain’s shit. It’s really shit and it makes you act like shit to the people you care about. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason.” As the words are coming out of his mouth, Jamie is reminded of a time when the roles were reversed, and you were giving him the “excuse versus reason,” speech. 

You’d said, You’re dad’s an abusive prick, Jamie. Makes sense that you’d have a lot of negative emotions. 

Fuck, if only you’d said something sooner. Maybe this would be something that you’d be cracking jokes about, or Jamie would be holding your hand, or he’d be laying right next to you as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

But your muscles spasm so that thought gets banished as you bite on your forearm in an effort not to yell. 

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says. “I don’t think you’re sorted on your own. I’m calling Ted.”

He walks to the other room so he can pretend he can’t hear your protests. 

—

Ted leaves training to Roy, Beard, and Nate. What’s the point in having four coaches if one of ‘em can’t leave for family emergencies?

Sure, you’re not actually family, but that’s Ted for you. He doesn’t do casual friendships. 

Jamie is out the door like a shot as soon as Ted knocks with a “Sorry, coach,” that Ted barely has a chance to wave off. 

Ted doesn’t say much once he’s inside, just rambles on about training and Kansas and Henry. He’s clattering around in your kitchen and you can’t find it in yourself to care what he’s doing so you just keep laying on the floor, willing your back to stop hurting. 

Finally, he comes over and sets down a smoothie in a short glass with a straw. 

“It’s so you can drink it without moving,” he explains. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say more to the couch legs than to Ted.

He sighs from where he’s crouched down next to you. “You don’t really have a choice, darlin’. You have to do this. The question is, are you gonna go through it alone?”

You shrug as best as you’re able. 

“Wrong answer,” says Ted, standing up. “You’ve got a whole crew of people here who are gonna root for you and support you with whatever you need. All you got to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Ah, fuck, you’re crying again and Ted can definitely tell because your shoulders are shaking. He’s pretty sure you’d want to save face so he stands up and says, “Beard’s coming over after training. Says he wants to figure out how to modify your house for a wheelchair or something. Thought I’d make us all dinner so we’re not so hangry when he mentions taking an ax to anything.”

The mental image of Coach Beard chopping down your stairs is enough to make you smile a little through your tears.

—

Waiting is really shitty. Like, really shitty. Every day is the same thing: tingly legs, shooting pains, phantom cramps. The worst was when Dani and Richard were over and you stood up to get something from the fridge, and your legs decided at that moment to lose feeling. You panicked with your arms held out for balance as you swayed back and forth for a moment, willing your feet to fucking move. They did, but not before Dani and Richard were on you in a flash, ready to catch you if you fell.

“Well that was weird,” you joke in an effort to cut the tension. They laugh, but you still catch their worried glance.

“You do not have to put on a brave face for us,” Dani says. “If you want to joke, we will joke. But if you want to cry, we will cry too.”

“You can cry,” Richard says, “I will just pour more wine.”

You laugh. There’s been a steady stream of Greyhounds at your flat for the last week and a half. Everyone and their mother (quite literally) has come by to see you. Your own parents were coming in a week to stay indefinitely while you sorted things out.

You wonder if it’s easier to lose control of your legs slowly or all at once? On the one hand, you at least have notice. But on the other hand, the long, drawn-out waiting feels like slow torture. Every day you wake up from restless sleep and experimentally wiggle your toes. Every day, you check off one more box on your mental calendar as you count down to a date that doesn’t even properly exist.

The only person who hasn’t visited is Jamie. You don’t blame him, though. Keeley’s come round almost every single day and has been successfully switched to your emergency contact. She’s the one you’re calling as soon as you discover you can’t move.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer. Your legs fall asleep more frequently and things are all numb. It’s like you know you’re in pain, but it’s not quite registering with your nerves.

It fucking sucks.

—

You don’t believe in intuition like spirits and all that, but you believe in it in that your brain can pick up things that you couldn’t if you were actually trying.

That’s why you’re pretty sure this is it.

Walking is pretty much a no-go right now, so you stiff-leg yourself to the couch and sprawl out as comfortably as you can.

You call Keeley, and she’s over in no time.

“Hi babes,” she says as soon as she’s through the door, “Can I call Rebecca for girls’s night?”

“Sure,” you say, “Might as well live it up.”

Keeley replies, “Great! She’ll be here in ten minutes,” and you laugh, really actually laugh, because of course Keeley’s already called her.

Rebecca swoops in all smiles and no sympathy which is great because if one more person pushes their lower lip out at you, you’re going to scream. She’s brought drinks and Keeley’s pulling out snacks and you’re going to talk and giggle until you fall asleep, ready for what the morning has.

“Is Shandy making a move on that one player?” Rebecca asks Keeley from the couch. 

“Nah,” Keeley calls back, “He said he wasn’t interested right now. Still hung up, I think.”

“What player?”  you ask. You know what Shandy’s like, and you feel for the poor guy.

Rebecca and Keeley are silent before Keeley says, “You wouldn’t know him.”

“Bullshit,” you reply. “I know everyone on that team and I know you haven’t signed anyone new recently. Is it Colin?” 

Rebecca shakes her head and gives Keeley a look. Keeley shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, babes.”

Rebecca turns to you. “It’s Jamie,” she says. “She’s been trying to bag him ever since Zava showed up.”

You shake your head. “She’s not right for him. He deserves someone better than that.”

Keeley’s back from the kitchen and scrutinizing your expression. “And what exactly do you mean by better?” she asks.

You laugh. “Oh no, not me. I wasn’t talking about me. No, I’m not- he needs someone different. Like, I don’t know, Roy’s sister, maybe? She’s great and a doctor to boot. Very caring too.”

“You’re caring,” Keeley says slowly, “And anyway, Molly doesn’t like him like that. They’re just friends.”

“Hang on, are you putting yourself in the same bracket as Shandy?” Rebecca interjects.

You shrug. “I was a complete bitch the last month we were together. There’s no excuse for it. I’m just surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“You were in fucking pain!” Keeley exclaims. “You said you weren’t sleeping and everything fucking hurt and you couldn’t even think straight.”

You grab a handful of candy from a bowl. “Keels, I appreciate the sentiment, but I majorly fucked it. Like, there’s no going back. So he can date whoever he wants as long as it’s not fucking Shandy. Can we please, please move on?”

Rebecca’s eyes are narrowed but they both acquiesce. “Keeley, what about your love life? I’m sure it’s boring as usual.”

Keeley shrieks and smacks her with a pillow. “Fuck off,” she replies. “I’ll have you know it’s going very well…”

—

You were right. You wake up still on the couch tangled in Keeley’s arms, and the standard toe-wiggle just… doesn’t happen. It’s quiet, the early morning type, the kind where the sunlight isn’t so harsh and birds are chirping softly and all of Richmond hasn’t quite got up to begin their day. 

As you look at your unmoving toes, the first thing you feel is a rush of relief. The waiting’s over, you think. 

You look over to the wheelchair that’s been leaning patiently against the wall all this time. Here’s the first day of forever. You’re in no rush for it to start, so you let Keeley’s little snores and Rebecca’s heavy breathing lull you back to sleep. 

—

It’s definitely a learning curve. And it’s frustrating. And if one more person catches you crying out of sheer rage, you’re going to start throwing things. But like Ted said, you don’t really have a choice. 

Your mom said, “The only way out is through,” then grinned at the murderous glare you shot her way. She opened her phone and pulled up a picture of you, age three. “Same lovely expression as always,” she remarks cheerfully. That cracks your frown. You always were a funny kid. 

It takes a while to figure out how to get places. Keeley (the absolute angel) volunteered, but she’s busy with the PR firm and quite frankly, a little too delicate to help you into a car. You made the mistake of saying this exactly one time and because subject to a rant about how she’s “not weak, just PETITE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”

Roy had punctuated her argument with a couple “That’s fucking right, babe"s all while rolling his eyes behind her back. It made you giggle. 

The general consensus was that at any given reasonable hour (or unreasonable if you’re Richard or Bumbercatch) a Greyhound or coach would be able to get you where you’re needed. And today, that place is Nelson Road. 

“How often does Jamie come visit?” Jan Maas asks, straightforward as ever. 

“Um, never,” you reply. “We broke up, remember?”

“Right,” agrees Jan Maas. “We all know that, I just assumed you had gotten back together.”

You laugh. How absurd. “And why on earth would you assume that?”

“Because he talks about you all the time,” comes his prompt reply. 

Huh. That’s interesting. You haven’t received so much as a single emoji from Jamie, but hadn’t thought a thing of it. But this, this is strange. This does not fit into your idea of how broken up people act. 

“Weird,” you say. “Wonder what the fuck that’s about.”

Jan Maas shrugs and moves to lift you from the car. 

—

It’s weird to be at Nelson Road, number one because it’s been FOREVER, number two because you’re eye-level with all sorts of things you’d never noticed before (ahem, part of the wall Roy kicked that no one cared to patch up), and number three because the last time you were here, it was as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend. 

Jan holds open the door as you roll in, ready to face whatever lies in wait. 

It turns out whatever is a very excited Ted and Beard as well as a neutral Roy who present you a coaching jacket and a whistle. 

“You’re coaching with us today because that little rat bastard Nate went to the dark side,” Beard says. 

You remark, “Tell us how you really feel,” earning a snort from Roy and a chuckle from Trent Crimm. 

“Oh yeah,” Ted says, “this is Trent. He’s writing a book.”

“Cool,” you say, “but you do know I know jack shit about coaching?”

Beard shrugs. “Neither do we. Worked out pretty well so far.” That earns another snort from Roy. 

“Right,” you say. “Well, I guess I’m up for anything.”

“You mean ‘down,’” says Ted. “Oh I’m sorry, is it too soon?”

“Never,” you reply. “It’s never too soon to make trauma-related puns and this world, it’s either laugh or cry. So fuck it, I’m going to laugh.”

“Fuck yes,” grunts Roy before turning on his heel to yell at the team to GET THE FUCK ON THE PITCH YOU LITTLE PRICKS!

—

You don’t do much except sit there and watch as the coaches yell and point and run drills. It’s a chore to remind yourself not to check out Jamie’s butt as he runs by so you start thinking not yours, not yours, like a mental mantra. 

He’s not looking at you so you won’t look at him and you’re sure it won’t be a problem because there are so many people to look at and talk to, except lunch rolls around (haha) and you sit at the head of a table and Jamie’s on the bench right next to you. So. There goes the no eye-contact plan. 

You take exactly two bites of your sandwich before thinking fuck this and pushing yourself back so you can roll away. You can just take the elevator to see Becca. 

You’ve made it a good way down the hall when you hear Jamie calling your name while saying, “Wait,” so you move a little faster. 

But it’s still new and you’re painfully reminded that arms are not legs so he catches you with ease. 

 “The fuck are you running away for?” he asks, and you want to point out that technically, you weren’t running. Metaphorically though, he’d be right. 

“I’m not running,” you reply. “I was just going to see Rebecca.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “I know you, and that was running. Is it because of me?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how much you’ve been looking up today. Your fucking neck needs a break so you rub it and look straight ahead, past Jamie at a life-size decal of O’Brien on the opposite wall. 

“Why would I be running away from you? You’re not- I’m the shitty ex in this situation. I’m the one who fucked things up, Jamie, so… you don’t have to like, pretend that it’s your problem. I actually think it would be better if you were just mad and avoided me instead of whatever the hell is currently happening.”

Jamie rubs his jaw. He should be exasperated, he should, but instead the gears in his mind are turning. A few words stick out to him and then it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place. 

“Hang on,” he says slowly. “Hold the fuck up. Did you mess things up on purpose?”

The moment the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back and apologize, because there’s no way they’re actually true, except you have a look on your face that can only be described as guilty. 

“Fuuckkk,” Jamie breathes out and you hurriedly interject, “It wasn’t intentional! At least, not at first. It started because I was irritable because I hurt a lot, and then I convinced myself that I was faking it so I got mad at myself for being a little liar. And then I couldn’t sleep because I hurt so bad and everything was making me uncomfortable so I started snapping at you. I noticed it pretty quick so I figured I’d get the pain checked out and sorted because I didn’t think pulled muscles were supposed to last this long. And it turned out that it wasn’t a pulled muscle but some of my disks were all weird, and then one day in between physical therapy and the chiropractor, I fell on my back and jostled everything wrong and it fucking popped.”

Jamie thinks he knows exactly when that was. He remembers you saying something about falling while walking to your car after work and him asking if you needed ice. It was at the tail end of things, and he’d taken your stiffness figuratively as opposed to literally. Like, you were acting all cold because you hated him, not because you couldn’t move. 

“So,” you continue, “I just leaned into it. I mean, Dr. Hadley was only one of my doctors, but she’s the one who told me I- you know, could end up like this. She said if things popped and it got into my spinal cord or fluid or whatever and they couldn’t get it out, it was only a matter of time before it messed everything up. They only way to stop it at that point would be to not move so either way, I end up stuck.” 

You half-sob, half-laugh. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I could tell you were already annoyed with me so I just decided to let it happen. You’re better off without me, anyway. I hate asking for help and I hate when people give me empathetic looks or what-fucking-ever, and I was going to have to ask you for a lot of help. You don’t even fucking have time for that, Jamie.”

Jamie is at a loss for words, and you’ve run out of things to say. 

You stare at each other in the hallway by the elevator, breathing heavily. You’ve both triggered each other’s fight-or-flight response, and it seems you’re both down for a fight.

“Right,” Jamie says finally, “ok, yeah, ok. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to have to deal with this?”

You nod. 

“Right,” he says again. “That’s fucked up.”

You don’t respond and he looks at you closely. “You know that’s fucked up, yeah?”

You shrug. 

“Jesus, babe.” Jamie runs his hands through his hair. He’s going to have to fix his headbands. “Alright,” he says yet again, “look. Dr. Sharon and me- we talk. And, you’re supposed to be able to talk to people about shit like this. Like, me playing football isn’t supposed to mean I don’t have time for the people I love. And if you’re feeling that way or if you’re hurting, you have to tell me so I don’t think you’re being all pissed off because you hate me. That’s the whole point of love, babe. You take care of each other’s shit.”

“Jamie, I can’t get places easily anymore. I can’t drive and I can’t go up steps. I will never be able to storm the pitch to kiss you or walk with you in Brazil. I get mad really easily because everything’s so fucking frustrating and I just want to punch something.” You shake your head. “You don’t deserve any of that. You need someone who can be there for you and isn’t a total pill to be around.”

“Are you fucking trying to push me away?” he asks.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Obviously!”

“Well fucking don’t. You almost had me the first time, but good luck getting rid of me now.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“For fuck’s sake, just kiss,” groans Will, walking by with an armful of laundry. 

“Fuck off, William!” you both say in unison and then Jamie’s on one knee, eye-level with you and brushing a thumb across your chin. 

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathes. “You have to remember that you can talk to me, yeah? Just promise you’ll remember.”

You nod, unable to speak. 

“Good,” he says. “We’re giving this another go. And if you can’t kiss me on the pitch, might as well do it here, yeah?”

[dnalt-d2]

Christ alive can anyone get a break right now??

(Ahem)

Update time, once again!

Also once again, it is a mixed bag

So to start off with, as most everyone knows, Pomme and Dapper's admins have resigned from their positions. This is incredibly unfortunate, and I honestly don't know what it's gonna mean for the French Creators who said they wouldn't stay on QSMP if Pomme's Admin was fired. Since she technically left of her own volition, I really don't know what they're gonna do

(Edit: I talk about Quackity's stream here but I don't speak Spanish so I can't personally say what was said exactly. Thankfully, it looks like someone JUST POSTED an English Translation so I'm just gonna drop the link here for anyone who wants to read it)

On another note: Quackity has finally given a slight update. For obvious reasons, he can't say anything specific, and I wouldn't have expected him to. But according to the translations I've seen so far, basically said that he can't update because the leaks that happened are creating added complications in the restructuring process. I'm assuming his reason for that is that he simply doesn't want anymore information to be leaked out, but unfortunately, that's just counterproductive to the miscommunication problem

AND SPEAKING OF MISCOMMUNICATION???

So as you all know, I've been in support of the French Union getting involved with this. As I've stated a dozen times now, Unions are meant to be resources, people who inform employees of their rights and do what they can to help them get those rights. As far as I know, one of the main things they do is mediate between the employees and the employers. But APPARENTLY the Union has not attempted to reach out to Quackity outside of Twitter. Which REALLY isn't all that professional. Twitter is a NETWORKING site. Meant to START building connections. Afterwards, people typically move onto email or even discord, which are way better equipped for the long-form communication that's about to have to happen

So even if Quackity WAS active on Twitter, which he isn't. And even if the Union DIDN'T know that, which they do. This isn't the right route to communicate. They have stated that he "has their email" and has to "reach out to them." They are apparently working on the logic that SOMEONE would have had to pass on the information to him by this point, which isn't a fair assumption at all, considering that we know there were Admins ALREADY hiding information from him before all this

They're acting like Quackity is the CEO of a major corporation, with COUNTLESS RESOURCES on-hand. Yeah he's the CEO of this business, but he's also a 23-year-old Twitch Streamer who in all likelihood is learning a LOT about running a business for the first time AS WE SPEAK. I'll tell you right now, when I was 23, I didn't know jack-shit, and I'd still say I don't most of the time. And the only reason I LEARNED jack-shit was because someone would actually TELL me about it. When someone makes mistakes, it REALLY helps them learn when someone is able to not just point out the mistake, but also HOW to fix it. I don't know how they're expecting him to grow from his miscommunication mistakes when they aren't willing to give him the chance to

And yes, there are MANY problems that need to be fixed, as I've said before. But Quackity did outright confirm some of the other things I've said too. That things ARE happening, and we aren't hearing about it. That we aren't GOING to hear about it. Which is fine. It makes sense. We aren't the people who need to know every step of the process. But he is going to have to figure out a better system for talking to the Admins. It's a real problem when he's communicating with people like Aypierre that Pomme's Admin has her job still, but didn't tell the Admin herself

There's still lots of problems, and I know it sounds like I'm just repeating myself, saying to wait and see, but in reality, there isn't much else we CAN do besides that and voice our support

This might be the last time I make a post on this for a bit, because this has been a little draining on me. Which I would normally be able to handle SUPER easy, I'm pretty good at handling stuff like this well enough. But now I've also got real-life stuff reminding me that no matter how much better things SEEM to be getting for me, something's gonna come smack me in the back of the head to remind me that actually things suck, and I just should've known better! And unfortunately that stuff requires my focus more than this. I'll still be here, watching everything, maybe commenting on stuff, but I might not be quite as vocal as I have been

Once again, I remind you all, take care of yourselves first and foremost. Whether it's physical, emotional, or mental, or whatever else. You matter more than the events taking place here right now. My support goes out to all of you, as well as the Admins who VERY WELL COULD BE SEEING THIS APPARENTLY. So I guess this message goes out to them as well lol. You guys rock and I've enjoyed all the contributions you've made

Anyways, see you all later

[cultofdixon]

Knowing Enough for Him

Rick Grimes [ROMANTIC] | Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • Mute!Reader | Daryl’s Little Sister!Reader • PART 2 to “Knowing Enough for Her” • Alexandria brought a lot out of the group. The good and the bad. Making their time there an eventful one. Little did you know something good would happen to you…even if the honeymoon feeling was cut short • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - implied sex • TW: Scars / Injuries / Canon Violence / Past Abuse / Trauma / Nightmares / Self Harm Scars / Abuse / PTSD

Requested by: Anon

PREV

Daryl kept close to his sister the entire welcome into this community and because he’d have to translate for some of the people. Especially Deanna.

“Would you be willing to teach us? We have an ASL book in our library”

This place really has it all huh Y/N signs with her good hand to Daryl as he shrugs for the most part. She nods to Deanna’s asking as Deanna smiles warmly.

“Great! We can arrange such tomorrow but as for a job for you…we’ll still have to discuss such. We have a surgeon in our community that would be more than happy to take a look at that for you” Deanna refers to Y/N’s broken fingers from the time with the claimers watching her cover them with her other hand. She didn’t want to be reminded of them, even if there’s a reminder living on her.

Deanna took note that Daryl was protective of Y/N just from their interviews. No shit they are siblings. But she knew that if she messed with one, she was messing with the other…and worse.

“Where’s your sister go?” Rick asks Daryl about to enter their new residence when he noticed the archer skinning the possum he found outside the gates.

“Inside. She’s checking everything to make sure nothing surprises us”

“By herself?”

“You don’t want to see her when she’s in pain”

“She’s in pain?” Rick frowns thinking one of the Alexandrians must have hurt her further than what she has already endured.

“Yeah, but it’s her hand. We both know it’s bound to hurt. Just. The boss lady made her go get checked out by the doc…Y/N didn’t let me go with her, next thing yknow the doc popped one of her fingers back in place” Daryl rips the skin off tossing it on the railing to the house. “She’s scary when she’s in pain. Has been since…yeah. Anyway, if she tosses somethin’ at yea. I told you so”

Rick took what Daryl said with caution as he enters the house not finding Y/N immediately. He checked the place out himself finding some of the groups’ belongings in the living room and additional stuff provided by Alexandria for new comers. He half expected for Y/N to come out and smack him for the unexpected entrance but when he turned into the living room he saw her knelt down by the floor vent.

“Y/N, you feeling alright?” Rick frowns walking over to her seeing her give a thumbs up with her good hand. “Alright…then what are you doing?”

Y/N moved out of the way to reveal that the wooden panel can open along with the vent lid. In case they needed to hide anything and that’s when Rick knew he could trust her with his suspicions on this place.

The first couple nights everybody was settling into the one house just for the beginning. Daryl kept to the window next to the crib that was given to them for Judith watching Y/N check on her every now and then.

“I’m gonna sleep outside. In case of anythin’”

Take the sleeping bag from the closet, I’ll get the lantern I found in the garage Y/N took her time to sign such to her brother even if all she wanted to do was scream at how frustrating it was to not be able to use her other hand.

Daryl wasn’t going to argue with the others and frankly, Y/N wasn’t going to let them argue with him either. It’s a new community and they had their fair share of fucked ones that no one can blame him for wanting to keep watch outside.

As the Dixons were getting settled or more so Y/N helping Daryl get settled outside. Everyone else was getting settled in the living room and finally turning in for the night.

“You look cozy” Carol smiles stepping out of the house seeing Daryl lay out his sleeping bag while Y/N turned the lantern off for those starting to go to bed inside given they turned the lights off. “How long are you going to sleep outside?”

“Until I better understand this place” Daryl took out one of his homemade cigarettes and before he found his lighter, Y/N had lit hers the second she saw him take a cig out. “Thanks”

“Smart that you’re doing such. But what we really need is our guns back” Carol states right as Rick stepped out in a whole new/old look that part of him doesn’t really like anymore. “Well hello there officer”

You clean up nice Y/N smiles signing to Rick watching him nervously rub the back of his neck trying his best to contain his happiness when she said such.

“Thanks…” Rick almost forgot why he stepped out to begin with and cleared his throat to bring himself back. “Thinkin’ we can start sleeping in our own homes”

“I’ll be holding the Dixons or at least Y/N while her brother camps outside” Carol laughs quietly in mind for the other residences. “But we need to get our guns back”

“I agree”

It won’t be that difficult Y/N chimes in being met with confused expressions. Deanna gave me a job in the pantry. Firmly believes she thinks since I don’t talk that that job would be less communicative on my end. People come in. Check out stuff. Don’t really need me to talk back

“This will be easier than I thought”

It was Daryl’s idea to continue this plan outside the walls of Alexandria the next day. To avoid anyone overhearing what they are saying. Rick left the community with Y/N given she took care of Judith in the morning and part of him didn’t want to miss any moment.

“Y/N doesn’t have to risk her position in its entirety. All she has to do is leave the latch open to the window and I’ll go in and out” Carol starts with. “Then she can remove their existence in the record to avoid suspicions”

“They’ll instantly go after Y/N if shit goes south”

I can take care of myself, D

“I don’t care. They’re ignorant and it takes a while to learn sign. Hell…Deanna might even think you’re faking if anyone gets caught”

“I won’t let that happen” Rick interrupts resting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder reassuringly. “Promise”

Oh she can’t help the butterflies just from a small touch.

Y/N beams when he did such and reassured her of her safety, but she can take care of herself when it gets too far. Even might cross her own boundaries for such. She brought her hand to rest on top of his squeezing it before letting it slide off as she left first to go do the job she was asked to do.

The next day was the party and not everyone wanted to go. Daryl of course didn’t and when he brought it up to Y/N, he half expected her to try and convince him. Instead she remained silent.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to” Daryl frowns nudging Y/N for her attention as she brushes him off. “Y/N…what happened—-“

I’m late for my shift. I have to go Y/N signs before finishing tying her boots and heading straight to the pantry.

Something was off…Daryl at first thought it would’ve been because of the plan regarding the pantry. Then went to the uncertainty of Alexandria…before he even thought about delving into the more personal.

“Carol” Daryl quickly stops her before she got far from the house. “Yea ever run into Y/N check on her for me, alright?”

Her face instantly went from happy into worry when he said that. “Why? What happened?”

“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me just. If it’s anythin’ let me know” Daryl sighs going inside the house leaving Carol to ponder on such while he decided to investigate her room of anything.

Daryl jumps the gun when it comes to these moments but why was it happening now? The last time was when Merle died.

The pantry is almost always quiet even with two people, but that’s mainly because only Y/N’s group knows how to sign to her while the rest of the Alexandrians just talk at her. She was given a notepad from Deanna’s husband Reg after she told him about their new special resident.

Guess she doesn’t even want to try…at first

“Y/N, I’m going to go for a couple of hours to help some of the older folk then I’ll relieve yea” Olivia smiles watching her nod as she flips through one of the books she brought from the house they were given. “Just holler if you need any-….Uhm.” She caught herself and it wasn’t the first time Y/N’s heard that or let alone witness someone become awkward immediately. “Just. I’ll be back in a few”

Y/N watches Olivia leave the pantry and immediately went to open the latch to the window but more specifically break it apparently. These houses may have not been used but that doesn’t mean they don’t wear out. She didn’t mean to and knew if someone caught on that they would pin it to a new comer. But this meant they can come and go freely during the night.

“Hey, Y/N”

The poor Dixon flinched to the words before turning to be met with the sheriff’s worried expression.

“Sorry I didn’t…you alright?”

Just jumpy. I’m fine Y/N frowns tossing the latch to the window into the bin as Rick noticed her hand with the broken fingers were now just taped together instead of a splint. He’s a bit relieved that she’s healing finally after their encounter with the claimers. Did you need something? She signed after snapping to get his eyes back to hers.

“Right. Uhm. Are you going to this thing tonight?”

Still thinking about it

“Right…well, I hope you do. I would—-The group would really appreciate it. As much as some of us still don’t trust this place, others are tryin’…”

After years of not speaking you tend to read body language more than what an average person would do and Y/N could just tell he wants her there…even if it’s not together. Just. There. But something was constricting Y/N’s thoughts and the pain she’s been feeling wanted to strike her down.

“You don’t have to…I know your brother ain’t going and it’s okay if—-“

I’ll go, but I don’t want to be alone Y/N admits as that sparked a smile on Rick’s face taking it as an opportunity even if the man is out of practice.

“We can go together…Yeah. I mean. You me…and Judith…and Carl”

A quiet giggle escaped Y/N as she smiles up at Rick couldn’t help the butterfly feelings.

I will meet you at yours before the party

Rick nods with a smile before leaving. He felt like he won a million dollars but also could’ve been a bit less awkward about it.

The moment Olivia returns to the pantry she noticed Y/N examining a few things as she thought the worse at first but then noticed she written a list on her notepad.

“I can help you find something” Olivia smiles extending her hand for Y/N to give her the notepad.

It was still a few hours before the party and Y/N made her way back to the house carrying a few things that caught her brother’s attention but he knew Carol was inside and he thought she wouldn’t want to be stressed even further by his million of questions.

Even if Carol had plenty of her own but she didn’t question since Y/N entered already asking things of her own.

Mixing bowl?

“Yeah, a small one?”

Y/N nods setting the supplies she took down on the counter as Carol set the bowl down for her seeing the variety.

“You making a salve? What happened?”

Nothing that hasn’t already happened Y/N frowns putting a little bit of everything in the bowl, being handed a spoon shortly.

“You know you can trust me with whatever this is for right? Kind of already made you leave the window open risking your position, the least I can do is keep a secret”

It’s not a secret from Daryl, and won’t be to others once I go to the party. I just. I don’t like looking at it She frowns finishing mixing the salve together as she used to have something in the old world that helped with the inflammation and the itching pain…

“You want help?”

Y/N looks up with a bit of a pleading look.

Carol waited patiently with the salve on her bed as Y/N got dressed in something to make it easier for her friend to see. That thing to be seen was the huge scar on Y/N’s chest when she finally stepped out of the bathroom after putting a tank top on.

“Woah…” Carol suddenly blurts out as she realizes how off putting that could’ve been quickly apologizing after. “Sorry. I’ve..seen my scars just. Wow I have questions.”

It’s not new news that each Dixon child has their fair share of physical abuse by someone that should’ve protected them since the second they were born. But the running trend of when one sibling leaves the abuse goes on the next...just continued.

Only thing was when they lost their mother to a house fire, they almost lost Y/N in the process.

If one asked Merle, he always thought Y/N became mute because of that trauma. Being trapped in the fire under a fallen dresser that crushed her chest cavity is the reason for the scar. But Merle is only half right about her muteness. Screaming for a while to no one coming until the fire department came will always be the running nightmare.

But if one asked Daryl how he thinks Y/N became mute. He’s the right one. Mental trauma manifests differently in people who’ve experienced something traumatic. The fire was the start of Y/N Dixon’s downward spiral. Next of kin was the father, who has a criminal record. This leads to the next Merle, who also has a criminal record. Then left Daryl but he was also just a kid. So social services took Y/N after her accident and she didn’t go back to her brothers until she was twelve. That time apart lead her to close in on herself. She didn’t talk to anybody and that became normal. It frustrated Merle and confused Daryl but they both were just happy to have their sister back once Merle got some of his shit together to take care of both his younger siblings. Y/N used to either write to communicate with her brothers or be physical with the punching or pointing. It was actually Daryl that suggested and found an ASL book in the city library. Y/N was the smartest Dixon and taught herself pretty quickly that lead to her helping Daryl learn. It was like teaching a brick anything when teaching Merle but he learned enough, besides Daryl translates for her when she signed to anyone who didn’t know.

The scar on her chest though, will always remind her of how this all started. Her vocal cords were scarred but she hasn’t spoken since forever.

She doesn’t know if she still has a voice.

“You don’t have to go to the party, Y/N” Carol frowns a few minutes before the party as Y/N signs to her that she promised Deanna and that she was going with Rick and his family. She won’t be alone. Just uncomfortable given Deanna picked her outfit being a dress with a low enough cut to show her scar. Least she’s wearing a cardigan over it to close it over.

“You come find me if anything alright?” Daryl was last to chime in one more thing before Y/N headed over to Rick’s next door as he couldn’t help but worry about what others gotta say.

I will. You know I will Y/N gave him a smile while leaving to find Rick waiting at the end of the steps with Judith in hand. Someone’s excited she smiles instantly covering her chest with her cardigan as she made it to his level.

“Guess I am.” Rick smiles watching as Judith leaned toward Y/N wanting her to hold her. “Think she is to but not for the party”

Y/N instantly takes Judith into her embrace smiling even more when holding the little one. Judith instantly lays against her getting comfortable which lead to the two finally going to the party and right off this random women came up to them mainly to swoon over the baby but to also plant some seeds…or water them.

How old is your daughter?

You two make a lovely couple

She looks so much like you

You look fantastic for someone who’s had a baby

The little one is very lucky to have you two as parents

Your wife is gorgeous

Y/N couldn’t correct them, and Rick didn’t seem to want to. She couldn’t help the blush to form on her cheeks as she went to sit next to Maggie while still holding the baby. The time apart lead to Y/N watching Rick talk with one of the Alexandrians. More specifically Jessie with her son Sam with her who gave him a stamp.

“They seem to be hitting it off, but nothing compared to what I’ve been hearing about you and Rick” Maggie smiles elbowing Y/N watching her try and hide her blush. “What? You both aren’t correcting people and he hasn’t stopped smiling since he came here with you…what’s stopping you from doing anything?”

I don’t want to replace…anyone Y/N admits as she held Judith thinking about Lori and Maggie knew exactly what she meant.

“But life goes on…you’re allowed to be happy”

It’s not too soon…? She frowns at Maggie who was going to ease her concerns when the two heard Sasha lash out. Which felt more like a reality check.

The silence grew in the room as Sasha stood there anxiously that Y/N handed Judith off to Maggie before going to her friend and leaving the party with her. It didn’t resume right away, and some part of Y/N didn’t want to leave…but her priority was always to take care of her family.

It wasn’t until much later that Rick went to check on Y/N and ask about how Sasha was doing. He half expected her to be asleep and inside but Y/N sat on the porch swing in comfortable clothing smiling warmly when Rick approached her.

“Shouldn’t have left yea at the party”

What do you mean?

“I don’t know. Seemed like I gave yea Judith so I could talk to people…”

Judith is great company. I’m never complaining Y/N smiles scooting over for Rick to join her on the swing. Besides. I haven’t been feeling that great all day…Sasha was my out with that party and I stayed with her until she was well enough to get some sleep

“I didn’t…make you feel like you had to go right? You didn’t have to” He frowns feeling he stepped over a line of some sorts but she knew she was going to go regardless. The only thing that made it easier to go was going with him.

The retired sheriff relaxed when he felt her hand gently take his. Rick squeezes her hand bringing back that smile of his.

“Can I admit somethin’?” Rick asks watching her nod as he brought his entire self to turn toward her. “I…Uh…fucking hell…I don’t think I can ever live without yea”

It was subtle at first

The way he looks at her waiting for her to look at him and give him that beautiful smile of hers

How she’s perfect with Judith and caring to Carl

The power she had to her always amazed him

Especially her smarts to help not only her but their family

Y/N is perfect to him, and always has been even when reality takes them all down most days.

He couldn’t help but close the space between the two, pressing his lips firmly against hers. Half expecting her to pull away but Y/N held his shirt for a moment keeping the kiss intact before parting.

“I hope that wasn’t too far…even if there’s much more I wanna do”

The smile that graces her features after such leads to her standing from the porch swing extending her hand for him to take.

Don’t wake anyone Y/N smiles even more making him smile just as much before following her inside the house.

As the next morning came…Y/N stretches her body sighing as she turns to the other side of her bed finding a note but no sheriff.

Had to check on Judith and go on rounds. I’ll be back later darling - R <3

The warm feeling in her chest grew as she held the note for a moment longer before getting dressed for the day.

The day led to a small crowd surrounding Rick in his enraged state over how blind the Alexandrians were. He was becoming too much and Y/N watched as Michonne drew closer and she stopped her quickly.

Let me

“If he hurts you, I’m taking over”

Deal Y/N frowns pushing past a few people and bringing herself closer to Rick who aimlessly waved his gun around.

Right before Rick could say anything more, he tensed to the hand resting on his shoulder as he turned to be met with Y/N’s beautiful E/C eyes. Her worried expression never faltered as she didn’t sign anything and he didn’t say a word. Something switched in him that when she held her hand out, he didn’t hesitate to hand over the gun and before he knew it. He was out cold. Y/N had done the same thing she did to Daryl when they first met and he was causing a ruckus. She pinched a nerve that knocked him out cold and pulled away letting Glenn and Michonne take care of the rest.

After being confronted by Michonne and Carol, Rick left the cell to go back to the house before the bonfire later that determines his residency in Alexandria. He stopped at the steps finding Y/N leaning against the railing.

“You’re mad aren’t you?”

No

Rick looks at her confused as he brought himself to stand beside her. Why not? He signs wanting this to be more private.

You did what you did for a reason. But what the Alexandrians don’t know is that there’s a much bigger threat than Rick Grimes who’s just trying to show that to them. Y/N frowns rubbing the back of her neck. Even if he did risk his position here

You knocked me out, didn’t you? Before it got worse

Yes, and before Michonne gave you a shiner She laughs sadly crossing her arms as Rick brought himself closer.

They might banish me

Going to have to go through me to enforce that and we both know what will happen if I’m crossed Y/N scoffs smacking his chest getting a smile out of him before leaving to talk to Maggie about the bonfire.

She’s sure of it.

[madisonmccoy]

Mathea on new episodes of Rykter and Synnøve’s role in season 3

Translated for y’all below!

https://www.bomlo-nytt.no/kultur/i/4BOkVV/mathea-19-klar-med-tredje-sesong-av-norsk-ungdomsserie

Mathea (19) is currently on the third season of the Norwegian youth series.

The girl from Bømlo, Mathea Onarheim Grønnevik (19), is back in the role of Synnøve in the NRK series "Rykter".

By: Pål Solli Paulsen (Journalist)

The youth series on NRK, "Rykter" is out with a new season.

This is the third season in a row and those from Bømlo are back in their given roles from the previous seasons, where the series’ first season first premiered in fall 2022, followed by the second season early the following year.

One of the young people in the series is played by the young actor Mathea Onarheim Grønnevik, who is back in the role of Synnøve.

- Now you have finished the third season of Rykter. How does it feel?

- It feels very strange and sad. It has been a fantastic experience that has given me so many wonderful people and memories to last a lifetime. There will never be a guarantee that I will get additional seasons, so it feels sad that this might be the end, but you can still hope for more then, says Grønnevik.

Grønnevik is one of two actors from Bømlo who play in the series. Heine Totland also plays the role of Olav. He is a salmon farmer and the father of Mathias, one of the main characters in the series.

MORE DRAMA: The third season of "Rykter" offers more western youth drama. Mathea Onarheim Grønnevik (middle) will be central in the role of Synnøve. The third season is now on screen and premiered with two episodes on 19 August. Photo: Mothership

Can expect the unexpected

"Rykter" continues to be seen on the fictional island of Vesterøy, where the series has initially taken on themes of what it’s like to be young in a place where everyone knows everyone in western surroundings and everyone speaks the authentic western dialect.

Now the action takes place at an upper secondary school, where the young people in the series have become more mature since last time.

Grønnevik says that the recording process has been a great joy for both her and the gang.

- It has been absolutely fantastic. This time we’ve all been more confident in each other, in front of the camera and in ourselves. This is also something you can see on the screen. The chemistry between the gang has been absolutely fantastic, she says.

A PLEASURE: Mathea Onarheim Grønnevik says that playing Synnøve together with the gang has been fantastic. She herself thinks that Synnøve has been a character that has been a bit demanding to play. Photo: Mothership

- What can the audience expect in this season?

- The audience can expect the unexpected. There will be new characters, friendships and "plot twists, which you hadn’t imagined." At the same time, a lot of love and heartache, says the 19-year-old.

She adds that the role of Synnøve has been a demanding role for her.

- Synnøve has been a somewhat difficult role to play. She often has moments when you get the feeling of "Why didn't you do this?" or "Why didn't you say this?", but at the same time this is a character who takes on important and serious topics. So it's nice to be able to represent it, says Grønnevik.

EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED: The audience can expect a lot of the unexpected in season 3 of "Rykter". Photo: Mothership

Addresses sexuality and identity

In the new season, Synnøve will change as a person from the previous seasons.

- Synnøve is a new person at VGS (upper secondary school). She sees graduation as a new start. She has new habits and a small fling, but she continues to work at the cafe.

- As a young girl from Bømlo, in what way do you relate to the many issues this series addresses? That is, being young in a village in today's world?

- In season 3, you can see the effect of going outside the norms in a small rural community, where everyone knows everyone. Feeling that everyone thinks they know everything about you is something I think most people can relate to, regardless of gender and age, she says.

Grønnevik further explains that this season addresses sexuality and identity, together with friendship and love. It also addresses topics such as ostracism, bullying, and drug problems.

DIFFERENT TOPICS: Mathea Onarheim Grønnevik (here as Synnøve), says that in the third season you will see the effect of going outside the norms in a small rural community. The season also takes on various themes, with a focus on sexuality and identity. Photo: Mothership

Enjoying study life

Grønnevik herself has just finished upper secondary school and has become a student in Bergen, where she studies "comparative politics".

- Right now I'm studying at the University of Bergen and enjoying myself there very much. I have spent some time in Bergen in recent years because of Rykter and I have really fallen for the city, she says.

The 19-year-old has spent much of her life in the theater scene.

- Theater is something I have been doing since I was six to seven years old. For me, it has been a safe arena to be myself. My former theater group, and especially my former theater teacher Marco Thomas, created an enormously social and open environment within our theater group with a safe framework. Marco has really been fantastic and cheered on every single one of us, says Grønnevik.

She has kept the recording of the series "Rykter” on the side since she was 16 years old.

- A lot of upper secondary school has thus gone by during it. I have experienced enormous support from my former contact teacher (primary teacher, contact between the school and a student’s parents) and other teachers and staff at Stord VGS to get this going. It has been difficult at times, but all in all it has definitely been worth it.

IN THE CAFE: Mathea Onarheim Grønnevik enters the cafe as Synnøve in style. Photo: Mothership

- It was a dream come true

- Is being an actor and playing in series something you want to pursue in the future? Or do you have other goals in mind?

- It is really something I wish to continue with in life, but I do understand that it is a difficult industry that many people wish to enter. That is why I want to have an education on the side, both to experience student life, but also to have something to lean on if I were to change my mind about acting, Grønnevik underlines.

Grønnevik is also privileged to have had the opportunity to play in the series.

- It has been a dream come true. It has been something I have wanted since I was little. It has given me an incredible number of good friendships and relationships. I will forever be grateful to have experienced something like this. Now "Rykter" is also going viral in several countries around the world. Something that is completely surreal, but so much fun! It's nice to see the enthusiasm for Rykter growing!

FUN: There have been many nice moments together with the cast and crew for Mathea Onarheim Grønnevik (right). Photo: Sondre Mogård Løvheim / Mothership

Here she had to go through several rounds of auditions to join the cast.

- There were an incredible number of applicants to Rykter, so the fact that I was able to take part in it is one of the things I am most proud of, she adds.

Now the young girl from Bømlo plans to focus on her studies, but is open to several new possibilities. She also hopes for several seasons of the youth series.

- Right now the plans are to focus on my studies, but I always like to think outside the box and look at other possibilities. One can hope that we will get several seasons, but it is something that needs to be looked at in the future. In any case, I am open to participating if there were to be more, concludes Grønnevik.

LOOKING AHEAD: Mathea Onarheim Grønnevik looks forward to her studies and hopes that new doors will open for her in the future as an actor. Photo: Mothership

Published: Saturday 24 August 2024 at 10:00

[mari-lair]

It’s wild when I see people say Aoi is written only to be Akane’s love interest, cause Akane never hid that he is her boy.

He goes the extra mile just for a hint of her attention and had given the classic childhood friend heroine speech of "I’ll love my crush even if they never look my way."

It's framed as a joke but he is genuinely happy as long as Aoi exist, he can enjoy his life and look forward to all his days no matter how shitty they are (Teru bullies him, the clock keepers work him dry, he gets rejected constantly, and so on,) as long as Aoi is alive and happy.

He is ridiculously easy to please when it comes to Aoi.

And while Aoi does loves Akane, visibly being affected by him: As seen by her possessive attitude, her wish to be closer to him, and the way his hard work influenced her, she doesn’t try or want her world to revolve around him.

Yes, she will cry and crumble if he doesn’t like her because she cares deeply, their relationship is a solid part of her character, but she has plenty of hobbies and plans without him, most of her problems are caused by herself or society's views and expectations of her, she wouldn’t do what Akane asks of her or change for him, not unless he is asking for something she also wants for herself.

Let’s compare how they talk about each other for a bit.

The only time Aoi talks about her feelings for Akane is in chapter 84, which is very far into the manga.

And this exposition shows her envious and insecure side, how she admires kindness and wishes she was as lovable: It shows a conflict that says as much about Aoi’s character as it does about Akane’s character.

Meanwhile, Akane consistently talks about her, and most of his expositions don’t offer any substance to his character, other than “he is in love”.

The only exposition that says as much about himself as it does about Aoi is the one in chapter 24, which shows he stalks her, and Aoi encourages it, since she trusts him, and unfortunately, she have been in need of constant protection from a young age:

Even when Akane explicitly says he’ll talk about himself.

He doesn’t.

He  proceeds to spend the whole chapter talking about Aoi.

The only thing he says about himself in that entire rant is “I hate that part of you”, which he later admits was a lie, something that he used to have her stay and listen.

He isn’t just her boy, he has a life outside her, a very busy life.

As Aoi put it, “He works hard and is dutiful.” which mostly translates to ‘helpful and trust worthy’, so he is constantly seen giving other characters advise that works or making them snap out of their bullshit: He is the reliable one.

His classmates respect him , Teru trusts his judgement, and hell even Kou, who barely interacted with Akane had called him and not a close friend like Nene, when he felt powerless and needed help.

But no matter how seriously he may take his duties or want to help people, Akane has decided he was born to love and protect Aoi.

That’s his priority, always.

His only long term goals involve Aoi, he devoted all his heart and soul to her.

If she wanted Akane to change his style to clothes he would never wear on his own, or make him get into new hobbies, or tell him to score lower than her, he would do it right away: He is comfortable being her boy, he’ll throw his pride away with no hesitation for her and do anything to make her happy to an extreme even most ‘heroines’ I see wouldn’t cross.

The one thing Aoi made VERY clear despite never saying out loud is “Keep your eyes on me. Don’t flirt with anyone else.” and that’s a wish that Akane took to heart, to the point that he is the only character that stays ‘loyal’ to his love interest even on silly extra events, like the ‘kiss day’ arts.

Everyone else send a kiss, no matter if they have a love interest or not, since is just a fun little bonus.

Akane only starts to touch her when he is confident Aoi likes him too: When he assumes she wants him, before that he always kept a certain distance, understanding he ain’t entitled to shit just because they are childhood friends.

Akane is far from perfect, he can be selfish and self centered, his approach to help usually tactless, but at his core, he always seek to do what Aoi wants, no questions asked.

His devotion is extreme to the point of being unhealthy, but he isn’t lying or trying to please Aoi here: As long as she is alive, and enjoying life, he will be delighted doing any of the things she wants. Her best hairstyle in his eyes is always the one she chose to style, the best clothes are always the ones she wants to wear.

There is nothing he likes more than her. Or to make her happy.

Even what Akane loves to do the most, which is to gush about Aoi nonstop until he looks batshit insane, is something that she had encouraged and never complained, no matter how much it escalated, so he was convinced she loved the attention.

Once she is honest and admits she doesn’t like it, he immediately tries to drop it.

He still has an ‘I was born to love you’ mentally, he just stop putting on a show, or trying to make her heart flutter. Most of his displays of worry, affection, or ‘ill protect you’ became either quiet or casual.

...Still.

He can’t help but show his love loudly from time to time, he is cringe at heart, truly hopeless, but he is trying his best.

In short: Aoi is in desperate need for more character focus, but the one determined to make their life revolve around their love interest is clearly Akane.

[rorykillmore]

if you have been as intrigued as i am by oz perkins' LONGLEGS (2024), here is a very preliminary shot by shot breakdown of its teaser trailer! will we discover anything profound? probably not, but there are some spoilers and speculation/potential spoilers under the cut, so if you want to go in completely blind, be mindful

maika monroe herself in our opening shot, standing in front of her crime board. which seems to mostly feature a cipher (one of what appears to be several that this movie and its marketing are using).

are we to assume that something Bad is happening in this car? probably.

next shot is cut as though this little girl is reacting to whatever is happening outside. i was squinting at whatever is on her desk because i have a feeling it may be important (for reasons mentioned later) but it is difficult to tell.

someone (maika monroe?) is doing research on what appears to be demonology or something related to it. titles of the books are 'a guide to the nine circles of hell' and 'the dark lord's hand' (both books were presumably created for the movie as they don't come up in any searches). beneath the books are notebooks in which she seems to be attempting to decode that cipher (maybe the killer is leaving our protagonist coded hints)

this opening of the book is intercut with a shot i did not include (to save space/because i had little to say about it individually) of the investigators opening a door to a dark room (murder scene?), which is a cool thematic thing. it also precedes...

also this shot is more heavily featured in this teaser with a cipher that when translated reads "hail satan" (check out the decoding work this person has done). well! if we had any doubt that these killings have some kind of religious motivation.

this is the 'guide to the nine circles of hell' book, but i can't make out the text with any clarity. to the right, perhaps another decoding effort is happening -- but i actually think this is maika trying to figure something out about the victims here. the order in which they're going to die, maybe? their locations/how they are chosen? there's a list of people's names beside a field of numbers, and she's drawing a line through some of the numbers.

starting to notice something odd with the aspect ratio - pay attention to how it swaps between standard widescreen and this more voyeuristic type of shot (you also saw this earlier, in the winter shots of the car and the girl), and we'll see if there seems to be any logic to that.

our first look at nic cage! is it scenes involving him/related to him specifically which are shot differently? maybe to induce said voyeuristic quality surrounding him and his kills? regardless: he's busy in his little workshop here. there's a nic cage interview floating around that seems to indicate that his character kills via creating cursed dolls or puppets which drive families insane in a sinister-esque fashion, which would check out here

something wicked is afoot in this hardware store (?) (i can't actually tell what is being sold here)

in presumably the same store, we see an unknown figure offer this girl some kind of small figurine (???). possibly nic cage planting one of his dolls (this is also why i was paying attention to the other girl's desk in the earlier shots, to see if she had anything similar). does he work here? (worth noting however that this is shot in the regular widescreen aspect ratio)

maika is finished with her triangle recreation.... but perhaps she is not alone

few interesting things to note here. 1) woman is getting hit in the back with an axe (in her own home, seemingly not expecting it, lending credence to the killer's MO). her murderer (husband? unsure) appears to be covered in blood. 2) she bears a resemblance to this woman, from a promotional poster and the setting looks as though it's the same one from this teaser. (cipher reads: "stood upon the sand of the sea", referring to a quote from the book of revelation describing a HYDRA, hmm)

3) a change of aspect ratio again, which immediately intercuts with....

maika flinching backwards as though bearing witness to this. could be just some misleading trailer editing, but the implication here is that she is 'seeing' these murders take place somehow. actually, maybe THAT explains the change of aspect ratio? it happens when we're seeing her "visions"?

gonna cover these quicker shots a few at a time: a shadow stumbling/dragging itself through a house as though wounded (not sure if it's the axe-in-the-back woman, because the house looks a little more modern, plus - different aspect ratio), an eerie figure in the woods (feels strangely out of place), another shot of nic cage in his workshop(?) (again with the aspect ratio switch - so if we follow the theory that these are maika monroe's visions, she definitely has some kind of direct connection TO him and not just a voyeuristic connection to his victims).

a person (i initially thought a woman, but that could actually very well be nic cage with his long, scraggly hair) slamming their head into a desk. the shot has interrogation room vibes (to me) but is too bare bones to make out for sure. maika is either... watching/interviewing (that's a camera beside her?) or this is another intercut reaction shot implying their connection.

(i didn't capture it but these shots are also intercut with images of red, gurgling blood, which seems a bit more deliberate than just an edgy choice - if there is a ritualistic element to these murders, perhaps it has something to do with blood)

i think this is nic cage again, but why is he upside down? interesting. unless i AM wrong, they actually show him a lot more in this trailer than initially assumed.

we're in maika-vision (calling it that until further notice) here again, this time to look at some kind of demonic entity (the same one we saw in that earlier shot of the woods?). this calls into question the objectivity of this voyeurism-whatever-it-is, although... obviously this film does have very clear supernatural elements, so hell, maybe nic cage IS being instructed by a demon.

another very clear intercut between maika and nic cage. is that nic cage?! it REALLY does not look like him from this profile angle, but it is possible that they've done some prosthetic work on his face (which they have been very careful not to show in full quite yet - nor do i think they should, since he is such a well known guy. you don't want your audience getting comfortable with him in this role before they actually see him.)

but i digress: another moment where the editing is implying an important connection or parallel (maika seems to be losing it a little - which i would too if i could no longer separate my identity from a killer's and/or their victims)

going forward i would pay attention to how promotional material for this movie is edited In General because they are using it as a very deliberate communicative tool at least in this teaser!

another couple of notable shots. in the first one, a woman (a nun? she seems to be wearing a habit, similar to another woman we will see later) fires a rifle into what seems to be an already blood-splattered car. then (which i didn't include) we see Maika With A Gun (hi maika), and what appears to be a car chase.

in maika-vision again, a man who has seemingly just got done slaughtering all of his cows. probably safe to call an animal harm content warning for this one, pals

ah! that WAS nic cage in the car paralleled to maika -- look at how he's dressed here. yet again they are deliberately hiding his face (also note the background - it would seem that yes, he is working at some kind of paint/hardware store).

two more maika vision shots. the first is the woman we see featured in this poster. the second is a small child who is closing a door to avoid watching whatever they're looking at. neither is having a good day!

there is a targeted amount of religious violence here, which makes sense if our killer is demonically motivated

and last but not least, nic cage murdering a guy (gender neutral) (interesting though because i hadn't assumed him to be the hands-on type given his rather indirect MO).

anyway: that's the longlegs trailer! the most telling takeaway here, in my opinion, is: how much it does actually focus on this sort of duality between maika monroe and nicolas cage and some apparent connection between them. my instinct is that that's going to be the meat of the story (although there is clearly a deeper mythology to explore too -- the cipher, the demon, the nature of the kilings).

one more thing to note: this movie seems to take place over the span of several decades. the teaser posters/captions released by neon are dated by year and reflect as much, and if you're looking for it you can see the aesthetics shift around a bit in the trailer as well.

send me your theories/observations! eager to see if anyone puts some pieces together that i might have missed.

[heyftinally]

Swifties do love setting Taylor up.

Just what I saw on Twitter Yesterday:

1989 is a pop Bible that everybody knows. - Well if it's trash maybe.

Reputation is hip hop ??? - What?

Reputation is goth Rock ?? - Lol

That Reputation is also supposed to be R&nB - like where?? wtf?

And her new album the Treacherous Dead Poets Default is an album with a new sound.

Or this yt lady on tt that was claiming that no other artists has transcended genres as successfully as taylor did. 😭 And she mentions Rock? Girl where? And literally there are tons of artists who did it way better than her.

Or that one video which they have now deleted bc taylor was getting dragged. It was a video of her just walking on stage and singing (not live) and the caption was like: I can't believe she was doing that for the first time. ' - Some small part of me does feel sorry for these delusional fanbase. Cause she has the highest grossing tour right now. Big emphasis on right now cause that record is not forever. Anyways they can not post much about her performance anywhere without people using it to drag her. Cause let's face it. She can't perform. She's not serving. She's giving nothing. Her dancers slay more than she does.

Pffffft Taylor went from pop country to pop and never changed again. Slightly different vibes? Sure. Still pop. She wouldn't know rock if it smacked her in the head.

Missy Elliott is hip hop. Early P!nk (ie Most Girls) is R&B. Sumo Cyco is goth rock (+ others, but still). Taylor Swift wouldn't touch any of those genres with a 10ft pole, and quite frankly she'd suck at them if she tried lol.

She doesn't "transcend genres", and considering she can't even make different versions of pop sound good, I think we know why.

And no, she can't perform. Let me flex my expertise here: I'm a trained dancer. Specifically with 26 years of training in tap, jazz, ballet, theater, and contemporary, with additional training in commercial/street jazz (aka music video and tour choreography) and various other styles in sporadic classes. I've literally been choreographing since I was about seven years old, and have been analyzing commercial choreography since I was 15.

That said,

Her performances are not only weak, but they show me that her tour choreographer either

Doesn't exist and she created all of her own "dancing" herself

Doesn't know how to adapt choreography for someone with virtually no dance technique

Actively has something out for Taylor and is trying to make her look bad

I'm going to reference "Look What You Made Me Do" from the Eras tour, because that's the most recent and clearest to illustrate my point

A video of the performance in question, for reference.

Okay, first off, right off the bat, her hand floating on her hip looks awkward and uncomfortable. It's giving "over-excited 8yo at recital". For someone with as much experience as she has performing, I'd expect her to look more settled in her beginning pose. She looks like she's overthinking, and thus it looks under rehearsed.

Then we have that flexed hand - yes it's a nit pick, but that pose belongs very few places outside of a 6yo's tap dance.

Movibg on, her robotic movements look messy as fuck. Sharp isolations like that are HARD. A lot of dancers with years of training struggle with getting the kind of sharpness you would expect to see from that choreography. And on the scale of a stadium like she's in, everything is amplified. If it's messy, it's going to look five times as messy as it might on a smaller scale, because the further away the audience is, the more detail gets lost. So you're movements need to be SHARP in order to translate to the audience. Add to that that this is clearly filmed professionally/intentionally, and it really just looks unprofessional/poorly planned.

Meanwhile the things like the "don't like you" scolding (besides looking childish) are so small that you wouldn't see them beyond the front row. When you're choreographing even for a normal stage, the #1 rule is make everything BIG and intentional. If you're kicking, you're hitting AT LEAST a 45° angle, and with the force of trying to kick the winning soccer (football) goal. Taylor doesn't do that. Those movements are small, sad, and weak, and it honestly looks lazy. I know a 10yo currently doing a competitive dance solo to this song, and I shit you not that 10yo is 50x more interesting to watch perform than Taylor.

So yeah, her music has been one note since Fearless one note (uninspired pop), and her "stage presence" is about on par with an 8yo who doesn't want to be here.

[paperandsong]

Le Casseu’ de Bois

From Légendes rustiques, illustrated by Maurice Sand, written by George Sand, 1858

Original French at Project Gutenberg

English translation:

Woe to the wood harvester who meets the red iron man in her path! Ravaging the trees of the forest, he does not allow humans to profit from his damage.

Maurice SAND

The poor peasant is sometimes a charming poet, see this fable in which he jokes about his own misery with such sweet melancholy:

“In the month of April, the ruiche (robin) and the roi-Berthault (goldcrest) met in the woods and each asked about the other:

“It is going well, thank God,” said the ruiche. “I have had a good winter.”

“As have I,” said the roi-Berthault. “I spent the winter at the woodcutter’s house and I was devilishly warm! Those people know how to make a fire, if you only knew, my dear! They burn logs as big as my leg!”

“Really?” said the ruiche, amazed. “Well, I ate my fill at the ploughman’s house! He had wheat in his loft, oh, such wheat! Standing on the floor, it was all the way up to my belly!”

The hallucinations of peasants which, along with their traditions, often give rise to various beliefs and legends, prove that while they usually lack a sense of clairvoyance, they do have the extraordinary poetic ability to manifest things and to grasp the marvellous. The fiery reflections of the sunset beneath long shadows gave birth to the man of fire or the red iron man, or simply the man of the vergne wood [12], who runs from stem to stem, breaking them or setting them ablaze. It is he who lights these terrible fires at night, devouring whole forests and the cause of which, all too often attributed to malice, remains quite mysterious. Let us say, in passing, that falling aerolites can explain many things and these days, peasants are beginning to realise that. Last year, a woman from Berthenoux was knitting outside her door when she saw a blinding light and heard a deafening sound. In a minute, her house was on fire; she had only enough time to bring out her sleeping child, and saw her poor house burn with prodigious speed. She said, “It was not a fire like any other; I saw something fall from heaven, but it was not the ordinary fire from heaven; the air was still, and there was no storm at all.” The event was observed by many witnesses and no one dreamt of accusing the poor woman of having sworn herself to the devil or of having incurred in the wrath of the sky. A hundred years ago, things would have been different. The unfortunate woman would have been cursed and shunned by all, or else her neighbours would have been accused of witchcraft. Two hundred years ago, someone would certainly have been burned for this, either the victim of the fire or the first passerby to sneeze the wrong way at the time of the disaster.

The man of fire is also called the casseu' de bois (breaker of wood). He takes on a variety of appearances and roles, depending on the place. He is not always flamboyant or incendiary and he is heard more often than he is seen. On misty nights, he beats the trees repeatedly, and the forest guards, convinced they are dealing with brazen wood thieves, run towards the sound and sometimes catch a glimpse of the pale flash of his mighty axe. But, strangely enough, those large trees which were heard crying beneath his blade, and which one would expect to be deeply cut, did not bear the slightest trace of damage. Le casseu’, or le coupeu’, or le batteu’, because the ghost bears all these names, is sometimes the protective spirit of the forest for which he feels affection. One must not touch the trees he has struck as warning of his predilection. 

We know that rotting trunks sometimes give off a phosphorescent glow. This glow, very real and very visible, has given rise to a number of alleged apparitions. I saw one of the most beautiful aspect, and the peasant who accompanied me told me the following story:

A good priest, who was not afraid of anything, would often cross the woods in the evening on his way back from a nearby parish where he would have supper and play cards with his confrère.

He always saw, in the same place, a white glow to which he did not pay much attention, though each time, his horse swerved a little and raised his ears as if he had seen or felt something out of the ordinary.

One evening, when the light appeared brighter than usual and his horse seemed more restless, the priest decided to get to the heart of the matter and wanted to enter the woods on the side where the light appeared; but his horse defended himself so well that he gave it up and resolved to come back in the daylight and see if there was some badly covered coal mine that threatened to set fire to the forest.

So he went there the next morning, and found no coal mine, neither lit nor extinguished, no hut, no trace of fire, or light, more than a quarter of a league round about. He didn’t think about it anymore.

But a week later, passing by at midnight, he saw a great circle of white light blazing across his path, and his horse reared up and absolutely refused to go any further.

The priest set his foot on the ground, took his animal by the bridle and walked resolutely to the middle of the fire, which not only did not burn him, but did not give off any heat.

He was so astonished that, when he reached the middle of the circle, he could not help laughing at it and exclaiming, “Ah, by all the devils, this is the first time in my life that I have ever  met a cold fire.”

This good priest, who had formerly served in the army, had the bad habit of mixing a few swears with his words, but without any ill thought.

He had no sooner let go of this imprudent reflection than he heard a voice hissing like grease sizzling in a pan, and that voice, which seemed to come from beneath the earth, said, “If you want a hot fire, it shall be given to you.”

At that moment, the priest felt fear running through his hair; but he did not lose his head and replied very aptly: “Thank you, my comrade downstairs, I don’t need anything.”

The fire suddenly ceased, and the voice seemed to sink into the ground, murmuring: “Coward of a priest, go to bed, go, you coward of a priest!”

This challenge irritated the former regiment chaplain. “Coward of a priest!” he said in his loudest voice, “Coward of a priest! Well, come looking for trouble, are you, handsome man of fire who hides in the earth?” And with the end of his stick, he made a great circle around himself where he had seen the circle of white fire, all the while laughing, saying, “You see, I’m not coming out of here, I will wait for you here and stand firm, man or devil!”

And as nothing appeared or moved, he wore himself out with his stick, striking before him, to the right, to the left, behind, everywhere; and every time he struck, he heard howling and crying, as if thirty invisible devils had received the good wallop which he had given them.

But as this game satisfied his courageous mood, he developed a taste and a rage for it, and beat the devil for an hour, until the crying and wailing, which were steadily diminishing, gave way to faint sighs, and finally to the deepest silence. Then the priest, who had broken into a sweat, left the circle and went back to his horse, who had not gone far.

When he had wiped his forehead and gotten back in the saddle, he returned to his presbytery and never saw the light in the woods again.

But on the eve of the Feast of the Dead that year, he heard a knock at his door around midnight. He called his sacristan, who served as his servant, and said to him, “Someone is knocking downstairs, my boy. Go and see what is happening!”

The sacristan went to open the door and came back, saying, “Have faith, Father, you were dreaming, there is no one at the door. ”

The priest fell asleep again, but hearing a knock for the second time, he awoke. He called his valet again, who was just getting back into bed and who swore to him that he was wrong. For his part, he had heard nothing.

The priest was returning to his own bed when there was another knock. “Jean,” he said, “have you gone deaf or is that a noise in my ears?”

“You have one in your head at least, Father,” replied Jean. “I hear nothing but the church clock going tic-toc, and the owl going hoot hoot from the bell tower.”

The priest figured it was perhaps a warning from heaven that he would have to put himself in a state of grace before he died. But, as he was a man who wanted to be sure of his facts, he lit a lantern and went down to open the door himself. “Good evening, Father,” said a familiar voice, though he saw no one.

“Good evening, Father Cadet,” replied the priest without feeling unsettled, and he closed his door, wondering to himself, for he had lowered Father Cadet into the earth about a year ago.

He was on his way up the stairs to his room when there was another knock. “Well,” he said, “this poor dead man will have forgotten to ask me for prayers; he must not be refused; and he opened the door, saying, “Is it you again, Father Cadet?”

“No, Father, it’s me,” said a woman’s voice; “I have come to wish you a good night.”

“The same to you, Mother Guite,” he replied, closing his door. Mother Guite had been given a Christian burial about six months before.

But there was another knock, and this time the priest heard a gentle young voice saying to him: “It is I, the little child of Jeanne Bonnine, whom you baptised and buried on the same day last summer. I’ve come to wish you good night, Father.”

“By my faith,” said the priest, “you will wish it for me so much that it will be a sleepless night. If you could be forthright with me, can’t you just all come together? It will be over sooner!”

Immediately the priest saw clearly at his door a dozen people whom he had buried during the year, men, women, old and young: Father Chaudy, who had died during the harvest and was still holding his sickle; Jeanne Bonnine, who had died in childbirth and was holding her poor infant in her arms; and so on with the others, see old Guite, who died of great fear after having seen the man of red fire reproaching and threatening her one evening when she was gathering firewood.

“Well, my dear parishioners,” said the brave priest, “I am glad to see you standing; are you all in paradise, my good souls?”

“We are on our way, Father,” replied Jeanne. “We were in pain and suffering for our sins, under  the watch of an evil spirit who made us dance every night under the trees; but you beat us so well in the Chassin woods that our bill has been paid. Ah, how you did strike hard, Father! May God provide for you, for the good you have done to our souls!”

“Very well, my children,” answered the priest, “Have a good journey and pray for me!”

“He went to sleep and he never slept so well,” the narrator concluded.

George SAND

[muuum-am-i-adohhhpted]

Let Me Be Your Light (Empires SMP)

Summary: Twin orphans, Gem and fWhip, are the newest hires at Circo de Fantasia, a travelling circus filled with performers who have various magical abilities. However, the Mad King has been following the circus around for decades to steal the powers of various performers to take for himself. Recently, fWhip has been the most recent victim. Gem, who was born without powers and who only joined the circus to be with her brother, consoles fWhip while also realizing she may be integral to defeating the Mad King and getting everyone's abilities back.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 6797

Thank you to @mcytblraufest for hosting the event! Also absolutely huge shout-outs to my incredible artists @yoshiintheweb (art link)and @pidgedee (art here)!! The pieces look amazing!

~~~

Chapter 1

The Circo de Fantasia was a whirl of activity an hour before sundown—the time when the circus would officially open to the random city they had chosen. They were planning to stay for a week; it gave people living outside city limits time to travel to see the circus, but not too long that the performers got restless.

Multi-coloured striped tents littered the flat plot of land in organized chaos. The red-and-white big top, where the trapeze and tightrope apparatuses were set up, sat in the heart of the circus; all paths ended up there.

Gem hefted up her box of popcorn kernels further up her hip to keep it from slipping. She was heading in the opposite direction of the big top, towards the front entrance where the snack tent stood. Katherine, the strong woman, passed by with two large metal poles balanced on her shoulders like double fishing rods.

The snack tent was hard to miss. It was built to catch the eyes of anybody who passed through the main gates. The glass display was already filled with cookies, cupcakes, cotton candy, and slices of cake of all kinds of flavours. The choices were so vast that options had to be switched in and out on different days of the circus. Tonight there were oatmeal cookies, strawberry cupcakes, blueberry cotton candy, and carrot cake. The latter Gem had to be careful with—she was allergic to carrots.

There were other more exotic treats baked by the witch, Shelby: gum that, once chewed, made the consumer’s tongue a random, glowing colour; ice cream that made steam come out of a person’s ears and nose, the cone able to act like a goat horn to make various loud noises; and brownies that caused the person’s hair to float as if there were no gravity.

As Gem was putting the box of kernels away in the back as extra, Sausage appeared at the other end of the display case, Mittens the large boa constrictor twirling around his neck. The ostrich named Pippy was to his left.

Mittens let out a hiss, her tongue flicking out. Her triangular head bobbed in Gem’s direction.

“Mittens says you should check on fWhip,” Sausage translated, pursing his lips. Then, after a pause, “Tell him that, if he wants, he can help me out with my acts. I could always use more hands.”

“Thanks.” Gem gave a curt nod as Sausage continued on his way. She finished straightening out the snack tent before heading in the direction of the personal tents, way in the back of the circus.

The personal tents were much smaller and made of black material as they only had to house a bed, a dresser, and maybe a couple pieces of belongings. fWhip’s tent was right next to her own.

“fWhip,” she called out to her brother as she stood just outside his tent. “Can I come in?”

There was a muffled grunt from the other side that Gem took to be a “yes,” and so she entered.

The tent was sparsely decorated, which was to be expected. She and fWhip had only arrived at the circus two months prior, a little after their fourteenth birthdays, and they had been orphans living on the street. Not many personal belongings to spruce up the tent with. Gem’s only possession was a family picture of herself, fWhip, and their parents from Before.

fWhip himself was curled up in his bed, his red hair pointing in all directions. His face wasn’t nearly as pale as it had been a week ago at their last city, so Gem supposed that was one positive. Still, fWhip had been unusually quiet on their trip here. Gem couldn’t really blame him though—he was going through a lot.

“How are you feeling?” Gem asked quietly, sitting at the end of fWhip’s bed.

fWhip grunted again and dug his head into his pillow even more. He had mostly stayed in bed all day and the Ringmaster allowed it, saying that fWhip was grieving and needed a little more time to get back on his feet.

“Sausage told me that you could help him during his acts,” Gem said. “I know you like helping him care for the boars.” She tried to keep her voice as soothing as possible.

fWhip rolled over onto his back and his eyebrows were drawn down. “I don’t want another act,” he snapped. “I want my own one back.”

“Well, sleight of hand—”

fWhip grimaced. “I do not do sleight of hand—I mean did.” He stumbled over his words, the past tense clearly paining him to say. “There ought to be a way to get my magic back.”

Gem decided not to engage with more talk about the Mad King. Instead, she pivoted. “Just look at everybody who's lost their powers. Katherine might not be inhumanly strong anymore, but she’s worked out so much that she can still lift more than the average person can. False used to be able to fly, but now she does the trapeze. Jimmy could adjust his height at will, now he’s our contortionist.”

“But that’s the thing,” fWhip said. “Everyone already had those talents before the Mad King stole their powers. Katherine consistently exercised even when she could single handedly lift an elephant, False already swung around the forest like a monkey, Jimmy’s limbs were always freakishly flexible. Martyn didn’t grow up afraid of fire, so he can do non-magical fire acts. And Joel didn’t have to change much out of his act—just had to go on a tightrope without electricity pulsing through the rope.”

Gem had been wracking her head for an exception then finally landed on one. “Joey! He used to be able to control water and now he throws knives.”

“I don’t want to learn a new skill. I want my old one back.” fWhip finally sat up and he frowned, his eyes blazing. “You don’t understand, Gem. The magic that was inside of me, it was always there ever since I was born. I could always replace things with other objects, could always pull a pen out of someone’s pockets, put a coin in someone else’s. And now it’s just gone. You don’t have powers so you don’t understand.”

Gem blinked rapidly, not expecting her brother’s words to hurt as much as they did. Her lack of powers had been something she’d grappled with when their parents had still been alive; fWhip could do literal magic, she couldn’t. As they got older, the difference hurt less and less. Regardless, the bruise was still there.

Gem’s hands turned to fists in her skirts and she rapidly stood up. “Fine. I’ll just leave then. I’m trying to be nice and offer you some ideas on other acts you can do without your magic. And sure, I might not understand what it’s like to lose your powers, but I sure do understand what it’s like to be powerless.” Her nose crinkled as she grimaced. She yanked open the flap of fWhip’s tent. “It’s not so bad, you know, but you make it seem like the Mad King stole your life rather than your magic.”

Gem stomped away.

Chapter 2

By the time Gem changed out of her regular clothes and into her wizard’s costume (it was Circo de Fantasia; fantasy was in their name and the Ringmaster took it very seriously), the circus was about to open.

Above, dark clouds threatened to rain. Gem hoped it would hold off, at least until the end of the circus. However, despite the lack of natural light from the moon, the circus was properly lit up. Fire torches and electric lamps and fairy lights decorated the paths and tents. There was no shadowy area within the circus grounds, not even among the personal tents—especially among the personal tents.

Even though everything was well-lit (probably too lit for a night-time circus), Gem was still on edge. What if the Mad King found them again? Although he usually showed up one every two or three cities, the Ringmaster said the king was becoming more powerful due to all the magic he was stealing from people.

Scott, who was able to see a person’s magical aura due to his magical eye, said he could feel the power radiating from the King. When the Mad King had arrived last, stealing fWhip’s power, Scott had said the king’s flame burned bright and large—unnaturally strong. When Gem had questioned Scott about this when she’d just arrived at the circus, she’d asked him how it had all worked.

“It’s as if everyone has a candle inside them,” Scott had replied, looking at her with his blue eye and yellow crystal one. It had creeped her out at first; his yellow eye reminded her of a cat’s. Now, Gem was pretty used to his heterochromia. “Most people have regular flames. You know, tiny drops of fire that flicker every so often. However, others have a brighter flame, more immoveable. It’s hard to describe the difference, but those are the people with magical abilities. Those who have these abilities can train to make their fire within them stronger, but there’s a natural stopping point when it can’t get any bigger or more radiant.” Scott had shrugged.

Martyn, who had been previously rocking in his rocking chair, spoke up. His grey hair poked around his cowboy hat. He was the oldest performer at the circus by a long shot and his wrinkles grew deeper as he smiled. “Not me, though.”

“No, not Martyn,” Scott admitted. “Martyn used to be able to create and wield fire. But fire is alive and has a mind of its own. Without care, it can catch and grow out of hand. It actively fights against anything or anybody trying to control it. And, because of that, Martyn’s inner flame was much weaker since a part of his magic was fighting against the nature of fire.”

Martyn had laughed. “Now I just have to be extra careful when wielding fire; I’m not automatically fireproof nor can I douse fire with my mind!”

Returning back to the present, Gem sighed as she put in a bunch of popcorn kernels into the bright red popcorn machine behind the display of foods. Already, popcorn smell was wafting around the tent, all thanks to Shelby’s popcorn-smelling potion being released around the circus’ grounds.

The light jingle of bells announced Oli’s arrival, wearing a multi-coloured jester hat decorated with mini bells. His ukulele (dressed as a lute) was strung behind his back and multiple other instruments were hanging off his person. Trailing behind him was seven-year-old Hermes on a unicycle and wearing a similar court jester’s outfit.

“Gem!” Oli greeted with a kind smile and wave. He was a year older than Gem and that probably was one of the reasons why they got along well. “Ready for another night?”

“Of course,” Gem smiled, just as the popcorn began popping. She poured out a small cup and gave it to Hermes who took it eagerly.

Oli then became a little more serious. “And how’s fWhip doing?”

Pursing her lips, Gem responded, “Not exactly well. He’s missing his powers quite a bit. Lashing out.” She decided not to get into the details and what exact words were said.

“Dad was angry when the Mad King stole his powers,” Hermes said. “He tried to hide it from me, but I could tell it really upset him that he couldn’t do his usual tricks on the tightrope. He couldn’t clear the storms that could close the circus for the night.” The young boy frowned. “He’s happier now, I think.”

Oli patted Hermes on the back before pulling his ukulele around. He strummed out a chord and hummed along with it. He began picking at the strings, creating lyrics on the spot. Something about losing a part of yourself and never really being the same afterwards.

Tears pricked in the corner of Gem’s eyes and she sniffed violently to stop them from falling. She swatted Oli’s hat. “Stop that! You’re going to make everyone who steps inside the circus burst into tears.”

Oli placed his hands along the four strings of the ukulele to stop their vibrations before starting up a new song, much more upbeat than the last. A grin spread on Gem’s face as she felt the tune raise her spirits, joy rushing through her body.

“I wish the emotions you created stayed after you stopped your music,” Gem said with a sigh. fWhip could use some happiness in his life right now, even if it was fabricated and would evaporate as soon as Oli stopped singing or playing.

Oli shrugged, just as the first people entered the circus. “I’m only really good at temporarily changing emotions. It wouldn’t be healthy if it was permanent.”

“You’re probably right,” Gem said, readying her hands to fill bags of popcorn and hand out food for most of the night.

It wasn’t too bad, really. She liked seeing the people who entered the circus and, on the nights where they were opened multiple times in a single city, she enjoyed recognizing the people who came again and again.

People of all ages walked through the gate. A lot of the people entered were families with younger children, but older folks and adult couples oftentimes came too.

And it wasn’t as if Gem would be behind the snack tent forever. False was teaching her some trapeze moves and soon they could be a double act, flinging each other around in the sky. Gem wasn’t quite there yet, but it was exciting having future plans that weren’t just popcorn girl.

Abruptly, every light and flame in the circus went out. A dark fog appeared, making it so that the city’s light pollution was completely gone as well. There was only blackness. The brownie in Gem’s hand she was about to give to a child dropped to the ground.

Gem’s knees went weak and her mind began to race. Somewhere nearby, a kid began crying. Gem’s heart thumped, suddenly thrown back into her childhood where monsters lived in her closet and under the bed, and she had to sleep with a little light plugged in to ward away anything evil.

Panicking, she felt around until she was out of the snack tent. Light, she needed light. Blood was rushing in her ears and Gem began to run, hands out in front of her. She knew it was dangerous, that she could possibly run into someone or even a pole holding up a tent, but Gem couldn’t think straight; the only thing repeating in her mind was light. She was a moth frantically searching for a lamp.

Heat built up inside of her chest and Gem fell to her knees, gripping at her heart. Pain burned through her body, tears forcing their way out of her eyes. Was this what a heart attack felt like? Was she going to die here, in the unnatural darkness? Then, all of a sudden, there was a bright burst of golden light and Gem passed out.

Chapter 3

When Gem opened her eyes, fWhip was peering down at her, his nose practically touching her own.

She jumped, nearly smacking heads with her brother in the process. “fWhip!” she exclaimed, her voice slightly hoarse.

fWhip stood back, slightly sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered, and Gem realized they were in her tent. “I wanted to see if you were still breathing.”

Gem squinted around the tent, in search of her clock. She finally found it, the hands telling her it was early morning. “What—what happened?” she asked. She remembered the darkness, the fear, and then the bright light.

There were footsteps outside her tent. “May Scott and I come in?” the Ringmaster said. “I can answer a few of your questions.”

“Sure,” Gem said, and waited until the Ringmaster and Scott entered.

“Are you feeling better?” the Ringmaster asked.

“Tell me what happened, please,” Gem said.

The Ringmaster sighed. “The Mad King has clearly grown stronger. He must have planned for a mass theft of magic last night. Douse all lights, steal the rest of our magic.” The Ringmaster worried his bottom lip and dark circles ran under his eyes.

Gem remembered her and fWhip’s first time at Circo de Fantasia, listening intently when the Ringmaster explained the circus’ purpose: to be a safe haven to those possessing magic.

“While having multiple magic wielders in the same space might not be ideal, the circus keeps us up at night, when the Mad King is the strongest,” the Ringmaster had told them.

“How does he find them?” Gem had asked. “How does he know who to steal from and who not to?”

The Ringmaster hadn’t said anything for a long moment. His eyes had gone far off, to a place Gem didn’t know, before finally responding by saying, “A type of hunting. Watching for inhuman abilities. Our witch, Shelby, casts a protective spell that follows the circus around and lasts a varying amount of time. She never knows when it fades away and, while she does try to reinforce it, the magic drains her a fair amount.”

Gem had furrowed her eyebrows, finding a rather large hole in the Ringmaster’s plan. “Then why are you placing yourselves all together? The Mad King has all of you in one place.”

“The Mad King steals powers easiest when his victim is asleep or unconscious—the magic flows freely then. In a circus, we’re up the whole night. Not only that, but he’s the most powerful at night when he can travel and manipulate the shadows. By day, we’re asleep and under Shelby’s magical protection.”

This conversation ran through Gem’s mind as she stared at the Ringmaster. Her eyes travelled over to Scott for a split second who was looking at her strangely and then to her brother who seemed to have decided that they were on good terms once again, their argument on the previous night forgotten.

“Okay, and? What was the bright light?”

“You,” Scott said, his eyes fixated on Gem. “Your candle’s flame is stronger. It doesn't flicker like it used to.”

Gem and fWhip instantly met each other’s gazes before Gem broke away to look at Scott. “Wait, what? Does that mean I unlocked a magical ability? Is that even possible?” The world spun; she felt like her tent was a ship’s cabin and she was seasick.

“Her power is light?” fWhip exclaimed, and Gem could hear hints of jealousy and awe in his voice.

The Ringmaster glanced over at fWhip and shook his head slowly. “Not just light. The sun.”

At this, Gem chuckled a little. “The sun?” she repeated. “It was nighttime when the bright light occurred. The sun had been down for hours.”

“The moon only shines because the sun’s rays reflect off of it,” the Ringmaster said.

Scott’s blue eye was frantic as he said, “you could be the key to defeating the Mad King. His original power is darkness and shadow, right?” He turned to the Ringmaster. “This could be a turning point. We wouldn’t have to worry about him stealing our powers.”

“If the Mad King dies, will I get my ability back?” fWhip said, his eyes lighting up; Gem hadn’t seen such hope on his face in weeks.

There was a slight lull in the conversation and Gem watched Scott’s yellow eye flick over to her once again.

“It’s possible,” the Ringmaster said slowly, turning to fWhip, clearly not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “But it’s also entirely possible that, once defeated, everyone’s powers die with him.”

The light in fWhip’s eyes suddenly dimmed and his mouth drew down in a frown. Gem wanted to say something to make him feel better, but what was there to say? He had recently lost his power and was now learning that his twin sister did have one when he’d previously thought otherwise. And, even if the Mad King was defeated, there was still no guarantee of getting his own ability back.

“At this point, the best we can hope for in killing the King is that no one else’s abilities are stolen,” Scott said. “We’ll have to get you training right away. You’re lucky False has been training you in the trapeze—being physically strong will help immensely. But Martyn might also be useful; he knows what it’s like to fight against the nature of fire. For you, Gem, you’re fighting against the nature of the sun.”

The Ringmaster rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If you could somehow focus a light blast similar to last night’s, aiming directly at the Mad King…that could be the end. Your light might be able to be the killing blow against his darkness.”

“This is perfect,” Scott said, and his voice sped up as he continued. “The Mad King has been able to extinguish any kind of light, fire and electricity, but with Gem’s power—he can’t take out the sun—we might actually have a chance of not running for our lives for an eternity.”

“There’s only one problem,” fWhip said blandly from the corner of the tent. Both the Ringmaster and Scott swivelled their heads to look at fWhip as he pointed to a bottle on the bedside table Gem had had Shelby create to glow for three hours after being shaken. “Gem’s afraid of the dark.”

Chapter 4

Gem truly thought she had grown out of that particular fear. When she thought about being scared of the dark, she remembered padding out to her parents bedroom until they bought her a mini nightlight and, even then, she’d keep her curtains open so the light emanating from the nearby buildings would keep the imaginary monsters at bay.

To be fair, Gem was no longer scared of monsters with horns and sharp teeth and one eye; it was the fact that she couldn’t see. She was completely vulnerable in the dark, unable to do anything about a hypothetical danger. Like a power-hungry king, for example.

When her and fWhip’s parents died and they were orphans on the street, Gem had just assumed the trauma of losing them overrode her fear of the dark.

Now, looking back, Gem just realized that, living on the streets, she was never truly in darkness. No matter how dark the alleyway was, there was always a streetlamp, or a building whose light was still on, or the moon and stars. Even if it was mostly dark, she was never in true darkness.

The next afternoon, Gem visited Shelby’s work tent where strange herbs and ingredients on tables were lined up in bottles and a handful of brewing stands were bubbling and steaming away.

“Do you think you could make a night-vision potion for me?” Gem asked, watching as Shelby ground up a pink flower. She was wearing a green apron with multiple pockets in the front, holding various tools and other ingredient bottles.

Shelby winced, brushing the pink dust into an empty glass bottle on the table in front of her. “It’s not going to be able to help you see when the Mad King comes back.”

Gem sighed—this was what the Ringmaster had told her earlier that day. “Still, it might give me some peace of mind, you know?”

With one hand, Shelby reached into her apron’s pocket for a bottle of mushrooms, with the other she flipped open a heavy book. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” Her eyes ran through the words on the page as she unstoppered the bottle in her hands. “I have all the ingredients, nether wart…golden carrot—”

A lump formed in Gem’s throat. “Carrot? Like, an actual carrot?”

Shelby nodded offhandedly before realization dawned on her face. Her hands stopped moving and she placed all her attention on Gem. “Wait, you’re allergic to carrots, aren’t you?”

~~~

“Were you ever afraid of anything?” Gem asked False as they stretched below the trapeze equipment. “And did you get over your fear?” Gem didn’t think False could be afraid of anything—not when she flipped and spun around in the air without a net and her power of flight stolen from her.

False thought about this for a moment, her legs straight out in front of her, her body bent forwards so that her head was touching her knees. “I used to be afraid of cats.” She turned to look at Gem with a wry smile. “If I thought I saw one out of the corner of my eye, I’d run the other way.”

Gem’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked. “And you’re no longer afraid of them? How’d you do that?”

“It took me a long time to get over that fear,” False said, then must have noticed Gem’s pinched face. “Fears don’t go away easy. You have to work at them constantly. And, even now, sometimes a cat catches me by surprise and I find myself taking steps backwards.”

Gem flopped down on her back and sighed. “Then how am I supposed to get over my fear? The Mad King could be here tonight and I need to be there to defeat him.”

False pursed her lips and put a comforting hand on Gem’s arm. “You aren’t alone in this fight. When the Mad King comes, everyone will be there. My advice for you? Go talk to Lizzie; she might be able to help. She did for me, and not just because she has cat characteristics.”

Gem still wasn’t sure. “How? Even if fortune telling could help me, she’s not actually a real one.”

“I know, but she gives solid advice. I think she might be helpful.”

“Well, if you say so.” If False said Lizzie could help, Gem would take her word for it. Clearly something had worked if False got over her fear of cats with Lizzie, a woman who was like a cat.

Gem and False then spent the next hour flying on the trapeze, letting go and catching each other in mid-air. She could feel the wind in her hair, her stomach dropping when she let go of the bar of a split second, then the satisfaction of connecting with False’s hands. It was nice to get her mind off of something that wasn’t related to the Mad King.

~~~

On her way to Lizzie’s tent, Gem passed the Ringmaster, hurrying in the opposite direction. When Gem turned the corner and walked a couple more steps, Sausage and the Ringmaster were speaking together in low tones, head bent together. While Gem didn’t know the specifics of the Ringmaster’s power, perhaps it was teleportation? Although, she had never seen this happen before.

Deep in thought, she almost bumped into fWhip.

“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” fWhip asked. While her brother’s complexion was a little less sickly, there were still dark circles under his eyes.

Gem desperately wanted to go to Lizzie’s as soon as possible, but she couldn’t find it in herself to brush off her brother. She was so in her head about her own issues, but fWhip was also going through difficulties. “I’m heading to Lizzie’s for advice. Wanna come?”

fWhip looked just as skeptical as Gem felt, but shrugged. “I suppose. Nothing else better to do.”

As they walked shoulder-to-shoulder, Gem asked, “so, did you take up Sausage’s offer?” She felt like she knew the answer, but she hoped nonetheless.

fWhip snorted. “No.”

Gem sighed, but didn’t push further. She didn’t want to get in another fight. She needed her brother to be here with her, just like she knew fWhip needed her as well (despite thinking otherwise).

Lizzie’s tent was an elaborate deep pink and, during the nights, a fine fog emanated from it (curtesy of one of Shelby’s potions). Out front, “Mystic Mary’s Fortune Telling” was written on a sign.

Inside, there was a little table filled with strange objects, a glass ball, and a stack of cards. Lizzie herself was curled up in the back, in a nest of blankets. As soon as Gem and fWhip entered, her eyes shot open, showing off her vertical pupils.

“Oh, it’s just you two,” Lizzie said, and she unfurled herself so she could stand. She was shorter than both Gem and fWhip. “I assume you aren’t here for a reading.”

“False told me you helped her get over her fear of cats,” Gem explained as Lizzie sat down on a stool behind the table. Gem decided to take the other chair, leaving fWhip standing. “She said you might be able to give me advice about my current...issue. You see, I’m scared of the dark. I don’t think I’m going to be strong enough to handle being completely in the dark and focus a blast powerful enough to kill the King.”

Idly, Lizzie picked up the stack of tarot cards, beginning to shuffle them. Gem could see how people thought Lizzie was a legitimately skilled fortune teller. “Well, that’s easy.”

“It is?” fWhip said, and Gem turned her head slightly to see that her brother’s eyes were focussed entirely on Lizzie’s hands, moving the cards around. Yearning was clear in his gaze.

“Well,” Lizzie amended, “it’s quite difficult to get over fears quickly. There’s not exactly a way to shortcut those kinds of things.”

Gem deflated.

“But that’s not what I’m talking about,” Lizzie continued. “The Mad King is the strongest at night, right? So just don’t fight him then. Lure him out and then when it’s day—when you’re the most powerful—land the final blow.”

Chapter 5

Gem didn’t have to wait long for the Mad King to strike. In the two weeks leading up to it, her days consisted of being with False and becoming physically stronger, and being with Martyn to become mentally stronger and able to create balls of light between her hands.

“You’ve got to believe in yourself,” Martyn had told Gem, out in the back field behind the circus one afternoon. “You’re fighting against the sun; you’re taking light for yourself. Even using a miniscule amount needs willpower.”

Gem who, at that point, hadn’t been able to conjure more than foggy beams of light since that night she realized her powers was close to quitting for the day. “Why can’t this be easier? Why can’t the sun just let me take some of its light?”

“The sun ain’t exactly listening to your prayers,” Martyn had replied with, and he’d adjusted his cowboy hat on his head that he wore, even outside of his fire performance. “It’s a game of tug o’ war and you have to come out victorious.”

“Well, what did you do in the beginning to create fire and control it?” Gem had asked. “How did you even start?”

Martyn had given Gem a wry grin. “Anger. I focussed all the emotion I felt about being supplanted in my town into the palms of my hands. Fire really reacted to it; it crackled and popped so much so that I burned down a forest. But it was a start.”

Gem had frowned. “Doesn’t exactly seem very healthy.”

“Well of course it wasn’t. But it was the match strike I needed. Now I just think about the adrenaline I feel during each of my performances.”

It had taken a moment to search for anger, something to latch on to. Gem wasn’t a naturally angry person. fWhip had come to mind and the fact that all he wanted to do was wallow, but that really wasn’t fair. Gem wanted what was best for her brother and she couldn’t expect him to just get over it.

Finally, Gem had found something. The Mad King. The man who had taken so many people’s powers—probably too many to count now. Who had stolen from so many good people; who had taken from her brother. Who would continue taking until he had consumed all of it. And, if it ever got to that point, would the Mad King even be satisfied?

That had been the turning point. A great ball of light formed above her open palms.

~~~

Everyone knew distracting the Mad King until daylight would be difficult, but they all had a plan.

And so, when the circus descended into darkness, everyone was ready. All the patrons ran off once they realized it wasn’t a part of the show, afraid out of their wits. Lizzie, with her uncanny sense of who was around her, led half of the performers with powers away from the King while Scott, whose eye gave him the ability to see everyone’s flames—shrouded by darkness or not—took the other half.

Everyone else was on distraction duty.

The only exception to this rule was the Ringmaster and Sausage, who asked help from bats so they could navigate without seeing. The two of them went off on their own and Gem didn’t question it at the time, although now she was wondering if it was safe to do so.

Gem had tried to persuade the Ringmaster to have fWhip be with her; she didn’t know what she’d do with herself if something happened to him. But the Ringmaster assured her that fWhip was in good hands. Katherine’s hands to be exact.

Somewhere to Gem’s left, she could hear Oli humming a song under his breath, her anxiety about being thrust into the darkness once again lessening.

“Shhh,” Lizzie hissed, and Oli instantly stopped and Gem felt the hairs on her neck rising, her heartbeat speeding up. She gripped onto Hermes’ hand as tightly as he was holding hers.

Suddenly, there was a lot of jostling as people tripped over each other’s feet and, over the slight din of the nearby city, Lizzie said, “quickly. Turn left.”

Gem followed the group as best she could, feeling everyone around her adjust to Lizzie’s instructions. That was when she heard fWhip’s voice nearby. Gem couldn’t exactly make out what he was saying, but her body went stock still when she heard the next voice.

“You’re the little boy who I stole from last time at this wretched circus, aren’t you?” The voice was gravelly and deep.

Instantly, Gem yanked herself from Hermes’ grip and ran blindly towards the Mad King and her brother. She knew this wasn’t a part of the plan; the plan was to keep moving around the empty field and outskirts of town until the sun broke through the horizon. But the Mad King did not mention Katherine, and Gem needed to be there with fWhip if Katherine wasn’t.

Gem kept the layout of the circus in mind, forcing herself to take quiet breaths and knowing she was coming upon a turn. Slowly, she crept forward with her arms outstretched until she felt the smooth material of the side of Oli and Hermes’ clown tent.

“I see,” the Mad King said once again. “The silent treatment.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” fWhip’s voice came out hard and almost annoyed. “Haven’t you ravaged this circus enough? Aren’t you powerful enough?”

The Mad King laughed—and Gem stopped in her tracks. His laugh was terrifyingly confident, as if he already knew what would happen. That he would consume Gem’s power and he’d be able to steal people’s abilities for an eternity. “Boy, there’s never enough. There will never be enough powers to take. Nothing will ever be enough for me. Just how nothing will ever be enough to satiate the space in you that was previously filled by your powers.” There was a pause. “But I can make you a deal.”

Gem felt rooted to her spot, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of fear. It was dark, the Mad King was just over there, and he was speaking to fWhip, one-on-one. She could barely hear her own tumbling and twisting thoughts.

The Mad King continued. “I can give you any power you want, however many you want. Your old powers back, telekinesis, super strength, shapeshifting…” Another pause. “All you have to do is bring me your sister.”

Gem’s heart dropped to her feet. fWhip wouldn’t…would he? Ever since her brother’s powers were stolen, just how many times had he complained? How many times had he told her that he wanted his powers back?

“Any power I want?” fWhip’s voice was suddenly meek.

Gem’s mouth felt impossibly dry.

“Your wish is my command.”

There was a third painstakingly long pause before fWhip replied with a snort. “Yeah, no thanks. I’ll get over my lack of ability, but I could never forgive myself for giving Gem up to you.”

The Mad King didn’t seem all that upset. “Plan B, I suppose. A lot less dramatic, but it’ll have to do.” And there was a snapping sound.

The darkness dropped away. One moment, Gem was surrounded by nothingness. The next, the beautiful sky, stars, and moon, and the tents of Circo de Fantasia.

Gem, who had been at the edge of the tent, suddenly came face to face with the Mad King, floating a couple of feet off the ground. He was wearing all-black armour and only his mouth was visible. It curled into a satisfied grin. “Hello Gem.”

fWhip’s head spun around and his eyes widened. “Gem!” he exclaimed, and ran towards her.

Gem came to the too-late realization that the Mad King had wanted her to overhear him. If fWhip agreed to the King’s terms, Gem would have been beside herself and therefore an easy target. And, if fWhip hadn’t, Gem would still be within distance.

Like she was right now.

The Mad King still wasn’t moving, although his smile was more than a little unnerving. “It’s time for me to snuff out your light,” he said.

“Oh no you don’t,” the Ringmaster’s voice said, coming out from the tent Gem was standing next to. And he let out an ear-piercing whistle.

Another Ringmaster came out of the tent to Gem’s right, and the other tents lining the pathway. Sausage’s llamas came bounding around a corner, Sausage himself riding one with a sort of wooden staff in his hands, a cyan gem between the curved top.

Gem rubbed her eyes as a dozen Ringmasters appeared.

The Mad King looked at them all thoughtfully. “Do you like each time I consume a Pixlriffs’ power, my time travelling ability will grow stronger—?”

Sausage raised his staff and a blue light shot directly at the Mad King’s back, immobilizing him.

The Ringmaster closest to Gem turned to her as the rest of the Ringmasters began to surround the slowly descending King. “The Staff of Sanctuary, an old relic from Sausage’s past, won’t last long against him—he’s consumed too many powers. I know we wanted to wait until day, but it’s just not possible anymore. You must defeat him now.”

Gem shuddered and glanced up before looking over at fWhip who looked just as bewildered as Gem felt. He gave her a thumbs up. Gem returned it with a strained smile.

She was grateful the King’s darkness was no longer a factor. She was surrounded by friends—multiples of friends—and her brother. She was standing within circus grounds, with its comforting light and brightly coloured tents. This was her home.

Gem took a deep breath, feeling her palms grow hot. Instead of finding anger within herself to unlock her light, she found something else. Something harder to find, but stronger.

Hope.

She could do this. Even if it was dark, Gem had a feeling she could conjure light even then. Her brother would never betray her, despite being at first doubtful. But she never should have been skeptical of him.

Gem felt her eyes flutter closed. She didn’t see the light, but she felt it as it blasted out of her hands and into the Mad King. Her eyelids flashed a bright orange.

When she re-opened them, Ringmasters were gently fading into mist. Gem’s head pounded, her hands felt raw and dry.

“What’s happening to them?” fWhip asked to no one in particular.

The Ringmaster closest to Gem replied, “going home. They’ve been stuck here for years. Every time I’ve tried to see past the moment the Mad King tries to bribe you, I couldn’t see. It fogs up. Stuck in this moment.” He smiles. “Now everything’s changed.”

“And everyone’s powers?” Gem asked, feeling a yawn coming on.

fWhip grinned and Gem suddenly felt a heavy rock appear in her pocket. “Guess,” he said.

Gem smiled back, letting out her yawn.

“Alright let’s get to bed,” fWhip said, and the rock disappeared from Gem’s pocket. He steered her shoulders in the direction of her tent. “You should definitely rest.”

And, as Gem closed her tent’s flap to collapse into bed, the sun began to rise.